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wasabito-reblogs · 4 years

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here’s my entry for the konoha simps server collab :) check out the rest of the entries here or at @bakubabes-hatake’s page!

prompt: occasions

word count: 2.5k

tags&warnings: established relationship, domestic fluff, hints of spiciness at the end (nothing major)

summary: In which you and Aizawa rediscover your synergy

❤︎

There was a sudden click at the front door, following telltale sounds of a key being jimmied into the lock. Both were enough to break the still quietude and have Aizawa cracking open a bloodshot eye, his sleepy, hooded gaze darting around the room until he finally spotted the sudden intrusion.

You stood at the foyer, slipping off your work shoes, with a look of mild concern on your face. Your lips held a slight frown that looked misplaced, especially when directed at him. He knew immediately that he’d fucked up.

A damning, half-empty cup of coffee sitting innocently on top of your old Heroics in Society textbook drew your attention first, before any of the other things. In your shared living room, the state of disarray all pointed to the simple fact that your boyfriend had come home and gone straight to grading.

Aizawa coughed and sat up straighter on the sofa. Though his body moved in slow motion, his mind raced to find some logical reasoning to explain why he was, once again, neglecting his health in favor of work.

Stuck to his chest was the exam sheet he had been eye-balling before succumbing to fatigue. Even after a somewhat restful nap, Aizawa could scarcely make out what hieroglyphics Kaminari had written on his paper.

You came and leaned into the back of the chair to read over Aizawa’s shoulder. Pointing to the true and false section of the exam, you wondered aloud, “Why do the T’s and F’s look so similar? I can barely tell which is which.”

He snorted lightly with a roll of his eyes, “That’s probably the point.” He said, but considering he had just woken up, it sounded more like grumbled nonsense.

Your noncommittal hum in response was all he got before you plucked the sheet from his hands. He watched as you came around and stacked up his papers, making sure to separate graded works from the ones he had yet to look at. How many times had you caught him like this? Passed out on the living room couch with class 1A’s assignments scattered every which way.

“You really gotta take better care of yourself, Shou.”

“I know,” he tugged on your hand, bringing the back of it to his lips. “I’m sorry.”

Your gaze softened at his words and the sleepy expression on his face. It was almost too endearing. “Yeah, okay, you say that now, but I’m sure you’ll be back to it again tomorrow.”

Aizawa couldn’t even deny your claim. He was a workaholic through and through. Most of his time was spent doing some form of work, whether it be in managing his class as a U.A teacher or patrolling the city as a pro-hero.

No one understood the toll it took on him better than you. You were a quirk counselor at Ketsubutsu Academy, after all, so it was your job to make sure that both students and staff were taking care of their physical and mental health. A lot of your work tended to trickle into the home, usually in the form of fussing over your boyfriend and making sure he was taking breaks and getting proper rest.

“You’re home early,” he commented. He kept your hand in his lap to fiddle idly with your fingers. “Something happen? … You look nervous.”

Even half-asleep, Shouta was astute as ever.

“Ah, not really. There’s this thing at work tonight, but I think I might skip it.”

His brows furrowed as he considered your words, “A work thing? Tonight?”

“Yeah, just a little ceremony for the staff, no biggie.”

“Sounds important. Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

“I—” you fumbled; how could you forget this man could read you like a book? Whenever you were dodgy or evasive, he knew just where to press until you were honest with him. “It’s actually an award ceremony. I’m being honored for my work at the school.”

Aizawa smiled, showing off a row of teeth in a way that made your heart skip a beat. You nearly missed his next words.

“I’m proud of you, kitten. Seriously, you deserve the recognition.” His long fingers threaded into yours, and you felt centered in the feeling of his firm grip like you were finally on solid footing. It definitely helped ease the tension off your shoulders.

“Thanks, Shou.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “So, what time is this thing, because I’m not letting you sit at home and miss it. And before you argue, consider the logic in remaining home when you know you’re being honored for something like this.” He stood from the sofa, stretching, and then cracking his neck. “It just isn’t rational.”

“So...you’re coming with me?”

You couldn’t hold back the surprise in your voice. It seemed almost too good to be true, you and Shouta going out together and to an event, no less. Usually, it took being dragged out of the house by his coworkers for him to enjoy a Friday night off.

Not to mention, no one knew of your relationship. His friends probably had their own assumptions but no one on your end knew a thing. This would be your first public outing as a couple.

“Of course I’m coming with you.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You smiled, realizing it was.

❤︎

An hour later, you stood behind a seated Aizawa in the middle of your bathroom with a towel looped around your body, still dripping from your recent shower.

“You have to hold still, baby, or else it’s gonna hurt,” you mumble while adjusting your grip on the hairbrush.

He had asked you to help him out with his hair, but the task proved quite tricky. Its length and thickness gave you no other choice but to work in smaller sections, which you had no issues with. If only your fingers in Shouta’s hair didn’t put him straight to sleep again. This was the third time he’d nodded off and caused the brush to snag at his roots.

With a sigh, you attempted to run the brush gingerly through his hair once more. In the past, you’d seen pictures of your boyfriend as a child, always with his hair looking unkempt and so obviously unattended to; at least before he grew old enough to do it himself. Funnily enough, it was like you finally understood the reason why.

After a few more minutes of careful ministrations, you patted his shoulder and smiled. “All done!”

Aizawa looked up bleary-eyed, then shook his hair out and ran his fingers through it. “Nice, thank you.” He leaned over and pecked your forehead before standing to his feet. “Want me to do you?”

You snorted at the subtle implications of his words. “Go get dressed already. I can ‘do’ myself.”

“Oh, can you?”

You were tempted to play along with his little joke, but it was getting late and neither of you were dressed yet. Regrettably, you shooed him away so that you could continue to prepare on your own without him being a distraction

Following another thirty or so minutes, you dressed up and met Aizawa at the door. He had put on a crisp button up shirt and a pair of dark, tailored pants that fit him so well, you had to resist the urge to pinch his ass.

When you approached, he was standing at the mirror in the hall, tying his hair into a bun. You could tell he had given up on fussing with his tie just by the way it hung loose around his neck.

“Here, let me,” with deft fingers you undid the knot, sliding the tie off and then promptly tossed it onto the couch. You also unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, smiling to yourself at the lidded stare Aizawa was pinning you with.

“You want me to go out like this?”

“I thought I’d let you off the hook,” you laughed. “No tie tonight.”

Closing the gap between you two, Aizawa planted a kiss at the corner of your mouth, as a silent thank you.

❤︎

From what you understood, the ceremony wasn’t supposed to be a large one, still a good bit of Ketsubutsu staff and student body were present.

Already you could tell that Aizawa was a little put off by the amount of people, especially those who kept staring at you two. Though, it just couldn’t be helped. Not many knew that either of you were in a relationship. Dressed as he was, you wouldn't be surprised if most simply didn't recognize him as the pro-hero, Eraserhead.

Even you had to admit that your boyfriend cleaned up nicely, a stark contrast from his usual ‘rolled out of bed’ appearance.

“Hey! You made it!” Emi Fukukado, otherwise known as Ms. Joke, called to you over the crowd. You were just about to go over to greet her and the others when Aizawa cleared his throat.

“I’m gonna get you a drink.” he gave your hand a light squeeze and excused himself before you could respond.

“Hey, hey!! I’m so glad you’re here.” Your coworker had waltzed over and scooped you into a tight hug.

“S-Same,” you wheezed. “Mind letting go?”

“Oh whoops!” Emi laughed sheepishly. When she finally released you, you couldn't help but notice her looking around. “Weren’t you just with someone? I didn’t get a good look but I’m positive—”

“Oh yeah,” you looked around for Aizawa but couldn’t see him anywhere “I um...didn’t come alone. I came with my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?! Since when?!!”

“Ah! Well…”

Thankfully before you could delve into explaining anything, you were saved by the proverbial bell.

Over the intercom, the principal announced for all attendees to proceed towards the auditorium where the ceremony would be held. Although you followed Emi without question, you still silently searched for Aizawa in the crowd but to no avail.

You were escorted to a seat in the front row with all the others who were also being recognized. Still you couldn’t help wondering where the hell Shouta had gone. You could barely focus during the entire opening speech, your attention having been snatched by worry. If not for Emi subtly tapping your arm, you might’ve even missed your name being called.

You stood up and walked across the stage, willing your legs to move forward. The principal shook your hand and presented to you a plaque with your name engraved in gold lettering. Several others on stage, some heroes and staff, also commended you with handshakes and warm hugs. You murmured thank yous all the way to your seat, but still you wondered about your boyfriend.

“Hey, Emi.” You said as you handed her your award. “I’ll be right back, could you watch this for me? I’m going to the washroom.”

Emi seemed a little concerned by your tone but agreed. “Got it!”

Quietly you exited the auditorium and headed in the direction of the reception hall where you’d last seen Shouta, but it was empty save for a few students milling about the snack table. You were tempted to ask if they had seen Eraserhead, but decided against it, you could find him on your own.

After about ten minutes of searching you went to one of the balconies overlooking the sports field. To your immediate surprise, there stood Aizawa, though he seemed preoccupied. There was a cell phone wedged between his ear and shoulder. He noticed you not a second later, and concluded his call quickly.

“Shou, what are you doing out here?”

He frowned. “I got caught up in a work call, I’m sorry. Has it started?”

“It’s more than started, it's almost over.”

Your boyfriend looked stunned for just a moment before he let out a sigh, “I’m really sorry I missed it kitten,” he came to loop his arms around you.

“Like I said, it was no biggie,” you mumbled.

“You okay?… You’re shaking.” he whispered, lips pressed against your hair.

“I’m fine,” you responded. “Just cold.”

At that, Aizawa pulled you closer into his chest, his arms acting as a shield against the evening chill.

Something had been on your mind since the beginning of the night. It was an intrusive thought and although you knew better than to entertain it, it was also proving to be hard to ignore. Shouta had been acting strange since arriving here. You thought it was because of the crowd but he wouldn't have missed the ceremony for something as minute as that. You breathed in his scent, slowly gathering the courage to ask what had been rattling in your brain for a while now.

“Be honest with me, Shou, are you afraid of us going public?”

You felt him stiffen and pull back slowly to see your face fully. He didn’t ask you to repeat yourself, so you knew he had heard you loud and clear.

“What makes you say that?”

You looked away from him, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, “I don’t know… it’s just a thought.”

Aizawa didn’t speak for a long while. He still held you close, almost protectively, but he remained silent like he was trying to find the right words to say.

“Yeah...I guess you could say that.” He sighed, “but it’s not what you’re thinking. I’m not afraid of what people will think when they see us, far from it. But the thought of you getting hurt because of your association to me...makes me...hesitant.”

You blinked up at him. The way his jaw was set as he spoke became proof enough that he wasn’t as unaffected by things as he appeared. Always so cool and collected, and yet he was possibly the most capable of emotion. You pressed your forehead against his chest as you considered your next words.

“I get that. But that doesn't give you an excuse to run off!” You pinched his arm lightly as if it emphasized your point.

“You’re right kitten, although it was an important call.” his lips spread into a wide smile. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Hm, I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Aizawa huffed and rolled his eyes at you, then bent to capture your lips in kiss. It was heavy and comforting in a way mere words simply failed to be. And for a moment, you allowed yourself to get lost in that feeling. His hand drifted lower down your back until he was nearly cupping your ass.

“Mmmm, Shou.” You pulled back, feeling the heat in your cheeks. Aizawa said nothing, instead he smirked like he had something planned. He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away a stray lash.

“Shall we take this home?”

❤︎

(Part 2 in the works, stay tuned!!)

#shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #sabi.writes

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

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The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Eight: Heat/Ice

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Playing hooky leads to more delicious food (Sy cooks! Swoon!), some deep conversation, and new revelations about Shane’s past.

What? You’re behind? Don’t worry! CLICK ME to catch up before reading this chapter!

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, mature themes, more food sluttiness, shameless nerd speak, unfettered and shameless sappiness.

Author’s Note: So, guys, I’m sorry. I really wanted to get this chapter to you Sunday. Life has just been a bit disheartening of late. Between being upset over some personal turmoil some friends are going through (two of my oldest friends are getting a divorce!) and coming home from work utterly exhausted on all possible levels, it’s been hard to write about lovey dovey things. As I said in my recent reblog of my masterlist, though, I’m working on some prologues, one for each character. I don’t plan on them being terribly long, but I want you guys to have some more back story.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

It was hard to feel guilty for calling out of work for the afternoon under false pretenses when she was curled up on the sectional in Sy’s “nerd lair” with his head in her lap as they watched John Wick on the massive TV he had down there.

“You mean to tell me we watched the entire Bourne franchise upstairs on that…that iPod Touch, by comparison, when we could have watched down here on this majestic monolith!? In what is essentially a theater!?” She’d asked immediately, derailing the grand tour of the museum of things she would soon find amazing.

“Hey, I haven’t been coming down here a whole lot since I hurt my knee. Stairs haven't exactly been easy or, ya know, possible. I had my gaming computer down here for weeks, too, couldn't do a damn thing about it, because I didn't trust a'one of my buddies or my neighbors to haul her up the stairs for me. Leia's a custom machine worth thousands a' dollars. If she's getting' broke, it's all gonna be on me."

"You named your gaming computer? Leia?" So many emotions were flooding her. Adoration, sympathy, lust, and just a sheer need to squeeze the bejeezus out of him.

"Yeah, it's a common thing. And…not to be that guy, but…you do know who Leia is, right?

"If by Leia, you mean Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan, true daughter of Darth Vader, adopted by Bail Organa at birth, sister of Luke Skywalker, hero of the Rebellion against the Empire?"

"Hey, I thought you wanted to take things slow, sunshine." he pulled her close, flush with his body. "Then you go talkin' all sexy to me like that." he lingered at her cheek with light kisses.

"Well, you did the same with your baseball talk the other night." she moaned into the contact with relish.

"I can't help it if certain sports terms have made their way into everyday speech. Your…exposition there, about my boyhood crush was intentional."

"You had a crush on Leia?" he nodded, shyly. "I had a crush on Han! Heck with Cap and Widow, THERE'S our couple's costume for next Halloween!" she said, excitedly!

"Oh, I didn't know you were talking about costumes for public use." he said, a naughty smirk in his eye.

"Stop it, you. Finish your tour. I want that soup on the stove." she said, patting her tummy.

He showed her the various memorabilia he'd procured over the years. Posters from a few of her favorites, and a few others that she recognized but wasn't as excited about. Die Cast models of several famous film vessels and vehicles, and a "life size" LEGO R2-D2 which would have had her salivating even if she hadn't been hungry. Apparently it took him almost a month to assemble the droid, but he did it all by himself.

"Aww…I wish I could have helped." she lamented.

"Maybe I'll pick up the Death Star and we can do that one together."

She nodded excitedly, eyes wide, rubbing her hands together in front of her chin with greed.

"Okay, little mouse." he chuckled. "Let's fill that belly and start this movie."

They filled massive bowls with generous portions and took the crackers down stairs so they could start the marathon. If they wanted to get through all three films tonight, they'd best get started.

They were both fairly quick eaters out of habit given her often truncated lunch breaks and his typical ten minutes in the mess hall. Even savoring the delicious creamy, cheesy concoction, as she tried to do, it was hard to slow down on. It did give her something to focus on during the first, emotionally devastating part of the film though. Once she finished, she expressed a final groan of delight and thanked Sy, kissing him on his cheek as she held the other. She felt the smile bloom across his face as she prolonged the contact.

They were about halfway through the movie, a big fight scene in a night club, when something dark and grim hit Shane in the chest. Watching Keanu Reeves pretend to beat up and kill all of these actors and stunt men, it occurred to her that the man with his head resting gently on her lap, long body taking up the rest of that side of the sectional, had fought and killed. The man letting her play her fingers through his hair and beard had shot and blown up people. He was told to do it. Ordered to do it. But even though he was doing it lawfully and by military order, as far as she knew, it was still his job…at least some of the time. She knew that was an oversimplification of the function of the armed forces, but…sometimes, it was an apt description.

She had never thought of Sy like that before. Someone other than the strong but gentle teddy bear that had come to be such a comforting presence in her life. She needed that, after all she'd been through…she tried not to think about the hurt of her last relationship. She hadn't discussed it with Sy. It was history. Ancient history. But she was, after all, a believer in the fact that those who knew nothing of the past were doomed to repeat it. She'd tell him…one day. Everything that Elliott had done to her…had put her through. But not tonight. Suddenly, she thought being on the arm of a soldier, someone who'd lived the kind of life that Captain Logan Syverson had lived, might make her feel more safe than she had in ages.

"You're awful quiet, sunshine." he said, cracking a beer open and handing it to her before doing the same for himself and sitting down with his thick arm around her.

"Just…trying to be respectful of the movie experience. You know." she smirked at him as the menu music to the second movie played.

"It ain't that. I know this is still new, what we're doin', but I've watched enough movies with ya over the last few weeks to know that you don't keep quiet for a full length feature." Shane worried the tab on her cold Miller Lite. She wasn't sure how to bring this forward. "Spill it, sweetheart. What's eatin' ya?"

"What…what do you think about when you're watching movies like this, Sy?"

"Guess, same as anybody. How awesome the fighting and driving is. Wondering when Keanu got to be a badass. And if there's really an underground society of assassins. Why, hon?"

"I, umm, I only wondered if it…it doesn't make you miss…your job?"

The smile he gave her was both bemused and amused. "Come 'ere." he prompted her to lean her head into him, and sat his beer down on the buffet behind the couch so he could better hold her. "Do we need to go over the function of a captain of the Army of These United States? Because as flattered as I am that you think so highly of me, I'm no John Wick, nor do I know anyone like John Wick. Or five guys that would make one John Wick. Ten guys. Maybe twenty."

"The fighting doesn't bring anything back?" she smoothed the creases in his shorts as she tried not to act like she was over thinking his past.

"That fightin’s…it's like dancing. It's choreographed, precise, and the outcome is predetermined. Real fights are the exact opposite. They're chaos, unpredictable, and the right guys don't always win. Trust me, I've seen a lot of them go south in a big way." they both let a moment of silence pass before Sy broke it. "What’re ya really askin’, Shane?"

She wanted to ask so many things. The questions seemed to clog the ventricles of her brain like leaves in a rain gutter. Bottlenecked traffic.

"I just…couldn't help but think…about things you must have had to do when…when you were active, and I just…if you need to talk about anything, I'm here." She imagined that taking someone's life, no matter how personal or impersonal the act itself seemed on the surface, would create some level of emotional scarring.

“Oh, sweetheart." he kissed the top of her head, making her feel as warm and cozy as the soup had…perhaps more so. "You are important to me for so many reasons. You've shown me how to smile again. Laugh. Real, genuine happiness. No sarcastic shit like I had to use on my men in my squad. But although I'd feel comfortable talkin' to ya 'bout near anything, there's a counselor on the base who's specifically trained to help guys like me. Who've seen what I've seen and been through…similar situations. He makes sure I don't feel like less of a man for what happened to me. You make me feel…like more than a man…something stronger than I thought possible."

She was straining hard to corral the tears within her waterline, but they broke free when he squeezed her tightly to him with both of his massive arms.

"So…that HEP I gave you is working?" she laughed, knowing full well that his home exercise program had no bearing on the strength he meant.

"Come on, Shane." he raised an eyebrow at her, challenging her to see herself the way he saw her. "Them handouts you give me don't mean a hill o' beans in this conversation and you know it. The way you hold yourself, speak to others. There is so much quiet strength in your kindness that comes right out of your beautiful little heart. Some days I'll see you working with kids, if I get in early, and I know they annoy you and freak you out, but you never let that show." He looked into her eyes, misty from emotion, and he wiped away the tears from her cheeks. "I'll never be able to explain it right, the way you inspire me to be a better and stronger man. And my heart just breaks to hear you put yourself down. And don't say you're just kidding, because I know you think you are, but behind every one of those jokes is a truth, at least as you see it." He'd seen her make to argue and knew her tactic before she had attempted it. "Give yourself some credit, Shane."

"I'm too busy blaming myself for the bad stuff to give myself credit for anything good." she sniffed. "You're the first guy I've…I've been involved with that's acted like I was worth anything more than a meal ticket. Someone who was only suitable for enough sex to make it an official relationship just so they could have a place to live, and do whatever quasi-job was a thing. First serious boyfriend was a freelance writer, but he never seemed to be writing. Then there was the guy with the internet start-up…but he could never tell me in a satisfactory way what the company actually did…so that was brief."

He seemed to know she was bracing for something big. Something difficult. He gave her silence and stroked her shoulder in encouragement to continue. She took one of her deepest ever breaths.

"Then came Elliott. Elliott Thomas. My last boyfriend. The worst of them all. Most useless and greatest offender. I ignored all of the signs, of course. He had a YouTube channel and an Instagram that he was trying to gain followers on and become a so-called "influencer." she rolled her eyes. "He had no life skills. He had a bit of an eye for photography and he could find humor in uncommon places, which he thought made him insta-famous and vlog-worthy."

"I hate him already." Sy growled.

"Well, maybe I shouldn't tell you the rest, then." he asked her to go on. "He always seemed to find these ways to cheat on me and lie to me that I couldn't quite prove, but I was just certain of. But I just…I didn't want to believe it. I wanted THAT one to work. Well. I came home one night after work, and he had another girl in our bedroom. I told him he had until the next day when I got home to leave. Things got a little physical, but I can hold my own." she said, proudly, "and I bolted with my purse. I stayed with Heather, our evening secretary, and we hashed it out, and got a little blitzed on moscato, and cried together."

"Wow."

"He was gone the next day. All I heard from my landlord was, 'you shouldn't be hearing from him anytime soon.' so I guess he had his cop buddies send him a message. He blocked me on all social media and I haven't heard a peep from him since. That was five years ago."

"What a scum bag." he stated, obviously.

"Yeah, I haven't been able to really think about a relationship since then…until…" she let the word hang there, knowing they both knew what the end of the sentence was. "Until I met you." Drifting unsaid in the ether of the unspoken.

"It's been a long time for me too. I mean…I haven't quite been a monk, but I haven't…I haven't cared for a girl since…actually, I've never felt this way about anyone."

"I didn't mean to unpack all of that tonight when we're only a third of the way through our marathon. I really wasn't even going to bring it up at all. It's just…been on my mind. Ya know. I once heard a very poignant parable about keeping your mouth shut if you're warm and happy. I was attempting to do that." she chuckled.

"Yeah, but we need to be able to open up to people in this life. Keeping a bottle stopped under pressure ain't no good for the bottle. Or what's inside."

"Such wisdom. You know just what to say to me." she grinned into him.

"Just seen what keeping yourself closed off can do to a person. And the people they love."

Love…there was that word in the air. Not officially said, but felt in all ways. They held each other close as the opening to the second movie played.

Up Next: Chapter Nine-Group Therapy

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #sigh for sy

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gerberbabey · 4 years

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debut | one | pope heyward w/ filipina!reader

the idea of the pogues in a high school setting is actual so fun so i kinda got carried away. i rlly hav a thing for writing the character pining for the reader rather than the other way around.

im basing this off of how my high school was cus idk shit about any other high schools lmao. also excuse volleyball terminology, i also very much miss volleyball

masterlist | previous | next

warnings: cursing, like terrible writing, just filler stuff

one - ♫ I THINK by Tyler, The Creator ♫

It was already two weeks into your senior year and you were settling in nicely. At two weeks people were still switching around their classes making sure they wouldn’t regret the class they decided to settle into. You were satisfied with your schedule considering you only had 3 actual academic classes.

For your last year you’d opted out of taking one least year of math or another year of science. You were a good student sure but you’d never been the best at maths or sciences. To the Pogues’ surprise Pope had a similar schedule, yet the only reason he wasn’t packed with AP classes was because he was signed up for dual enrollment with online college courses.

“Dual enrollment helps clear GEs better than AP classes. I’m not saying I wouldn’t pass those AP tests but this way is easier,” Pope explained to JJ as they walked through the crowded halls of Kildare County High. Kooks and Pogues alike littered the hallways, separated in their own little groups and yet standing amongst one another.

“Whatever you say Pope,” JJ shook his head. He and Pope had one class together this year and that was Intro to Drawing in the very beginning of the day.

“Heeeey guys,” Kie greeted as she walked up to them, hiking her bag up her shoulder. Kie had opted out of a backpack this last year and had instead started using a tote bag which was only filled with her laptop, a single notebook, her pencil case, and other small personal belongings that had nothing to do with school.

“You guys going to the game on Friday?” Kie questioned and Pope cringed as JJ groaned.

“No Kie, we are not going to the football game this Friday-”

“Guys come one, first game of the season! Plus the environmental club is planning to work snack bar. All the money goes toward the Turtle Habitats and the Save the Ocean Foundation,” Kie plead.

“As much as I love the turtles Kie,” the group stopped at Pope’s locker, “Our football team is garbage. Why would I subject myself to that?”

“Ok I know that, but don’t go for the team,” Kie raised her eyebrows at the two of them, “Go for the turtles!”

JJ shot her an “eeeh” sort of look and Kie huffed in annoyance.

“Come on, if you could give me a whole other way to fundraise then please do,” Kie crossed her arms as Pope shuffled around the belongings in his locker.

“You need help fundraising Kie?”

The three teens turned in the direction of your voice and you grinned as you walked up to them, your teammate and other best friend Isabelle walking with you. Isabelle was tall, one of the tallest girls at school actually, and though they saw you two together frequently it was still kind of amusing to see one of the tallest people they new walking around with one of the shortest people they knew.

“Yeah well, my club’s planning to do the football game snack bar but nobody goes to the game’s anyway so,” Kie shrugged.

“You could fundraise at the volleyball game,” Isabelle suggested giving Kie a smile. Kie smiled back sheepishly as she shifted on her spot.

“Are you serious?” she questioned, turning to you and you shrugged.

“Well, why not? Wouldn’t hurt to ask our coach,” you stated and Kie watched as Pope closed his locker and turned as your hands reached up to fix the collar of the button up he’d worn over his t-shirt.

“We have a game tomorrow, and then there’s a workshop on Saturday. If your club wants to try and fundraise during those, we can try and figure something out,” Isabelle spoke to Kie and Kie flushed for a moment before she nodded frantically and began talking over a few ideas that were already coming to mind.

“And people are guaranteed to show up to the girls volleyball games,” JJ wiggled his eyebrows at you and Pope and you laughed as Pope reached up to whack JJ in the chest. You couldn’t help but note how weird JJ looked without one of his usual hats on. You figured it was because the teachers lost their minds over hats being worn inside the building.

“So (Y/N),” Pope started and you and JJ looked at him.

“So Pope?” you smiled and missed how JJ glanced between the two of you with a knowing look in his eye.

“Am I gonna see your dress anytime soon?” Pope questioned and you rolled your eyes.

“Pope I literally already told you that no one’s allowed to see it until my party,” you leaned against Pope as he shook his head.

“But I’m not just anyone,” he insisted and you laughed as the first bell of the day rang overhead.

“Ok whatever dude,” you shoved at Pope and he playfully slapped at your arms, “Me and Isa have to go, I’ll see you guys later,” you bid and you gave Pope a hug and a kiss on the cheek before you waved goodbye to JJ and Kie. The three of them watched you two join the sea of students and JJ turned to Kie and Pope.

“Was I seriously just fifth wheeling?” he scoffed and Pope glared at him as Kie flushed at his insinuation.

__________

“Ok can I just get like...the color? Oh my-you never even told me the color!” Pope stared at you with wide eyes and you shook your head as you covered your mouth to try and keep your laugh from coming out. The two of you were in your second to last class of the day (You were both TA’s for the Intro to Film teacher and that usually meant goofing around in the back as the class watched movies all day), and Pope had not let the topic of your dress drop.

In fact he had asked you about it for the past three weeks.

“I can’t ruin it,” you whined and Pope leaned forward and groaned into your shoulder.

“Telling me the color won’t ruin it,” he mumbled and you reached up to rub his back.

“Yes it will,” you whispered back playfully and Pope groaned again as you laughed, “Oh by the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you...”

Pope sat up and motioned for you to continue.

“I don’t need to have an escort or anything, but I was actually wondering if you’d like to be my escort? For my party?” you weren’t sure why you were so nervous but you couldn’t get yourself to look Pope in the eye. You watched as your fingers played with the end of his shirt.

“(Y/N).”

You looked up at Pope through your lashes and he flashed you a wide grin.

“I would literally be honored,” Pope pulled you into a tight hug before pulling back, “Also I would’ve been extremely offended if you didn’t ask me and I probably would’ve just been your escort anyway.”

You laughed and quickly brought a hand up to cover it up as a few of the students in the room shot the two of you looks.

“I wouldn’t even go through with the party without you,” you told him softly and Pope could feel his heart skip a beat. Sometimes he wondered what it would’ve been like if he had gathered up the courage to ask you out ages ago. Despite the bullshit he told his friends he knew that he was in love with you. He would always love you, but being in love with you was different. It meant so much more.

“So that means I get to know the color of your dress right?” Pope whispered and your mouth dropped open in shock as a wide grin stretched across his face. You tried to stop yourself from smiling as you reached up to whack him on the shoulder.

“No!” you whisper-yelled.

“But how am I gonna coordinate with you-”

“Drop it Pope,” you laughed as the bell rang to indicate the end of class.

________

“Where’s Kie?” John B questioned as JJ and Pope walked up to him. Today was the first girl’s volleyball game of the year and they had planned on going to watch together. They only really did it out of support toward you but that obviously didn’t stop JJ from his usual flirting.

“Her club’s doing snack bar or something, to help fundraise for turtles. Did she not tell you?” Pope asked as they walked into the gym together. There was music playing through the gym’s speakers and there was chatter and noise from every point. There was the sound of shoes squeaking against the gym floor and the sounds of volleyballs coming into contact with the floor, hands, the walls, etc.

“Nah, I didn’t see her that much yesterday or even today.”

“Yeah, where the hell were you anyway?” JJ questioned as he led the way up the bleachers. It was definitely crowded but the boys weren’t at all surprised, Kildare County High’s volleyball team was actually good, meaning they usually garnered a large audience of spectators.

“I was at the counselor’s like all day trying to figure out how I’m gonna get enough credits to graduate,” John B sighed and JJ and Pope cringed. After John B’s dad disappeared in their sophomore year, the boy had taken a half a step back from his academic responsibilities to try and keep himself together and afloat. Then after Big John’s body was found at the beginning of their Junior year, John B had considered dropping out entirely. He missed a majority of that school year as a result of his grief, deciding that he felt there was no point for school any longer.

Yet with the surprising help of Sheriff Peterkin he had pushed himself back into finishing school. The school understood of course, but that didn’t mean it didn’t take a toll on his academic record.

“I’m sure it’ll work out in the end,” Pope encouraged and JJ nodded, before the blonde clapped and looked around, eager to get John B’s mind off the matter.

“Oh shit look there’s Quincy,” JJ pointed out and the trio made their way over the where a large group of other Pogues who had gathered up on one side of the bleachers. While some schools may have had senior sections or something of the like, their gym was separated by Kooks, Pogues, parents, and then any visitors from the opposing school.

“Hey JJ what’s up man?”

JJ dapped up Quincy and the two of them began talking about something or another as John B and Pope were greeted by the people around them.

“Yeah (Y/N)!!” someone near them yelled, “You dig those balls!”

The three boys turned to the court and watched as you shook your head and laughed but kept your focus on the court. You squatted down low once more and they watched as you warmed up, passing dimes for your setter to set.

“Woooh (Y/N)!” JJ’s hands were cupped around his mouth as he yelled.

“Yeeeahhh!” John B yelled and was followed up by the student section of their gym, Pogues and Kooks alike, cheering for their team despite it only being in warm ups.

Soon enough people had settled into the bleachers as the Varsity game came to a start. (Pope, JJ, and John B had yelled their hearts out at your introduction - “Number 10, Libero: (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!”. And JJ had pointed out where Kie was bustling over at the snack bar, charming people into buying whatever she pointed out to them).

“Oh shit hey, I’m gonna go say hi to (Y/N)’s parents. I totally forgot,” Pope told his friends and the two nodded, waving him off. Pope mumbled “excuse me’s” as he maneuvered his way by people’s legs and tried not to knee anybody in the back of the head. He jogged down the steps of the bleacher and made his way to where the parents were all situated, watching the game intently. There was a bout of cheering and Pope glanced over to the court to watch you jump up in excitement as your team scored another point.

“Hey Pope!” Pope looked up at that and smiled as your mom waved him over to where she was sitting with your dad.

“Hi!” he greeted, and leaned over as your mom stretched her arms up to give him a hug in greeting.

“Your parents not here tonight?” your dad questioned and Pope shook his head.

“Nah they couldn’t leave the store. They really wanted to come though. (Y/N)’s last first game and all.”

“Ah well that’s alright, plenty of games after this one.”

“Of course. Uh Mrs. (Y/L/N) how’s the party planning?” your mom rolled her eyes though he could tell there was no ill intent.

“Stressful. All (Y/N) focused on was her dress and her guest list. Finding a place to even have the party was almost impossible,” your mom explained and Pope chuckled.

“(Y/N) won’t even let me know what the dress looks like,” Pope told them and your mom laughed as your dad nodded.

“She’s hid it from her dad too.”

“Won’t be able to see it ‘till the party,” your dad shook his head at that as Pope let out a surprised chuckle.

“You ate that (Y/N)!” someone yelled and Pope and your parents glanced over at the game and watched you get picked up by Isabelle as your team cheered over winning the first set of the match.

“Well I’m gonna head back to my friends,” Pope pointed over to where John B and JJ were sitting, now with the addition of Kie.

“Of course, of course. We’ll be seeing you at our house later?” your mom teased and Pope shrugged as he laughed.

He waved your parents goodbye and by the time he’d gotten back to his friends Kildare was already ahead in the second set.

“Not working anymore Kie?” Pope questioned as he took a seat beside her leaving her between him and JJ.

“Yeah we made shifts so it’s Marco’s turn,” Kie explained pointing over to the snack bar.

“Was our volleyball team always this good?” JJ questioned and Pope scoffed.

“Yeah you were just too busy staring at their asses to watch them play,” he reached around Kie to shove at the blonde and JJ batted his arms away.

“Hey, you can’t exactly blame me!”

“Gross JJ,” Kie rolled her eyes and the boy looked at Kie with an offended look before turning to John B as if to say, ‘are you hearing this?’. John B only shook his head at his best friend. The 3 Pogues chuckled at JJ’s expense before they turned back to the game. It was your turn to serve now and as you waited for the referee to blow his whistle John B reached up and cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Do it for Pope, (Y/N)!!”

Pope whipped his head over to John B as the students around them “oooh’d!” some of them shoving at Pope playfully. From the court he missed how you glanced up at where they were sitting, a grin on your face as the referee finally blew the whistle to let you serve.

“Shut up John B!” Pope hissed and the brunette only laughed it off as Kie mentioned how Pope should’ve been used to this by now and JJ yelled.

“For Poooope!!!!” JJ yelled as you served the ball.

The Kildare supporters all cheered as you aced your serve and Pope flushed in embarrassment as you turned and pointed to him, riling up the crowd of students as those closest to him shoved at him once more.

“Yes King!” someone yelled at Pope and he couldn’t help but grin as he pointed back at you.

#Outer Banks #outer banks fic #outer banks x reader #outer banks imagine #pope x reader #pope heyward #pope heyward x reader #poc!reader #filipina!reader #obx #obx fic #obx fanfiction #the pogues have a normal high school life au

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tcheschirewrites · 3 years

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Hhhhhh and because I am In A Good Place right now, let’s have a little bonus short. You want to know what Justin and Jen have been up to, those two wiliest of snakes, while RC and Dick have been in Japane? Well, let’s find out!

(Considering the length - I accidentally 1.7k - and technically it’s plot-advancing, I guess we can consider this chapter 20.5? lol)

The dim lighting of so many of the gastropubs in the city gave him a headache. Like, sure. He understood the ambiance, along with the pulsing music at just a few decibels shy of a migraine, and yes, all right, he had spent his fair share of time in joints with far lower lighting and beats with far deeper bass, but in his regular day to day, the need to hobknob frustrated him.

Justin adjusted his tie, tugging it further away from his Adam’s apple.

From her seat across the table, texting Richard or checking her emails or scrolling Instagram or whatever it was she was doing when she was pretending she wasn’t paying attention, Jennifer scowled at him. She reached over to him, fussing lightly with his lapels, the creases of his shirt against his slouched posture.

“Stop doing that,” she chided, sliding the knot of the tie back to its position against his throat. “Can you seriously not keep still for two hours? You’re incredible.”

“This is what happens when I don’t have you to take care of me Jen,” he groused, discreetly loosening his tie just slightly when she looked away for half a moment.

“Can it,” she replied, sipping neatly from her water. “I think I see him coming.”

Out of reflex, Justin tightened his tie, running a hand over his hair. “You’re sure we’ve got everything we need this time?”

Jen glanced back at him over her shoulder, her eyes aglow in the low lighting of the restaurant, reminding him so very much of the Jennifer he had met during university, and his chest ached. “Oh yeah,” she said, and her tone was so self-assured he allowed himself a glimmer of a real smile.

His father strode up to the table, seating himself without waiting for a greeting. “I’ve spoken with Mr. Kaiba. His terms are outstanding. I hope you’ve decided as one that this acquisition is well within business interests?”

Justin was practiced at swallowing the dark bile of his father’s reptilian cruelty – Jen less so, though her tenure as a legal counselor had left her well equipped to don the proper mask for the situation. “You know, pops, we have. We’ve spoken with Dick Grant and our Chief Marketing Officer, and we all agreed that a total sale at these terms was an offer we couldn’t refuse.”

“Justin, you know I don’t abide movie references.”

Raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, mostly to field Jennifer leaping across the table to strangle his father, Justin allowed himself a chuckle. “I know, old man, but I think you’ll find it’s appropriate, considering the situation. We nailed that Japanese bastard hook, line, and sinker.”

“That’s wonderful news. I’ve read the proposal, and the extra numbers packet you provided me earlier. Third Star stands to make quite a bit of money from the sale of the market shares.”

“Fuck yeah, they do.” Justin’s lips curled into a grin at the furrow in his father’s brow. He knew exactly what was going through the scaly fucker’s mind – Justin had never been so crass in his presence before, never stooped so low as to be anything but formal in front of James. “As my C Suite are majority shareholders, I’m real happy for the decision they made. Gonna net them a shitload of a nest egg. And you know what? They earned it.”

There was an intense silence, obstructed only briefly by the server swinging by the table to gather a drink order from James only to be met with a brusque wave of his hand; he did not take his eyes off of his son’s face.

The silence lasted a beat longer, then; “You mean you earned it. Second-person plural. As CEO of the company, you’ve invested in the largest amount of shares – “

“Ahhh, yeah,” Justin cut him off smoothly, leaning back against the booth and threading his fingers to a basket behind his head. “About that.”

Jennifer stepped in here, digging into her bag for a brief moment before retrieving a manila folder. “I’m sorry to say, Mr. Carriger, sir, but Justin is actually no longer eligible to his rights as a shareholder in the event of a buyout.”

James did not take his eyes from Justin’s face. “You don’t say.”

“Mm.” She flicked open the folder expertly, spreading a couple of key documents over the table before situating herself back into her chair, taking another dainty sip of her water. “In the company bylaws, section thirteen article D, in the event of a buyout, any shareholder who has brought direct hard to an employee must forfeit the market value of those shares.”

The disgust in James’ eyes was palpable, and here he finally turned away from his son with a curl of his lip, rounding his attention to Jennifer. “I think you must be forgetting section sixteen, article B, that any executive who has lost their shares in the event of an accident will cede the market value of those shares to their next of kin.”

“Accident?” Jennifer batted her lashes at him, playing coy, playing dumb in a way that Justin knew she had learned in her years at law school and had only heard about second-hand. “Which accident are we talking about, sir?”

Verging on the edge of his patience, James replied, “The train accident – now, Justin is not directly responsible for the accident on the KaibaCorporation bullet train, but it can be acknowledged that his decisions as Chief Executive Officer are what led to your fiancé and that poor woman’s injuries. It’s my understanding they did not seek extraordinary compensation, and their dedication to the company is to be acknowledged, but – “

Jennifer let out a cooing laugh, grating and pretty and eminently false. “Oh, no, sir. To my understanding, neither party involved in the train accident in Domino were seeking punitive damages for their injuries. But that has absolutely no bearing on the sexual assault your son was involved in earlier this week with his subordinate, the Chief Marketing Officer of Third Star Gaming.”

Justin had to hand it to her: he had never seen his father so speechless, and even from his position as an observer, he had to crack a smile.

“He what.”

The smile plastered on Jennifer’s face widened, all glimmering teeth and threatening promise. “Oh yes, sir. It was reported to me only hours after it occurred, and I confirmed it with the victim shortly thereafter. Her statement is here, if you care to read it. I had it transcribed this afternoon for your convenience.”

From the mutinous look on James’ usually cool face, he did not care to read it. His cheeks began to spot with red, and Justin thought he saw his father’s pulse jump in his neck.

He retained his composure, though, turning back to his son, who raised his brows and shoulders in a gesture of feigned helplessness. “I find it difficult to believe that you would be so careless as to let your libido get the better of you, Justin. At such a critical juncture.”

The accusation was plain, and Justin said nothing, nodding briefly at Jen.

“Now, as you are aware, sir, pursuant to article 13 section D is the following addendum – “ She cleared her throat before continuing; “’If any executive person or persons from party A – that is, Third Star, as specified in line two of the company bylaws – bring egregious bodily harm or otherwise inflict considerable pain and suffering, then during the event of a complete corporate acquisition those shares would not transfer to next of kin (see: article ten, section K et al), but would instead be split amongst the remaining executives of party A.”

Jennifer smiled prettily at his father, and Justin had to admire the irony of the picture. “Now, I’m sure you’d agree that a confessed sexual assault falls into the category of both bodily harm and pain and suffering, but – “ She paused here to dig into her purse for another manila folder, this time much thicker, and slapped it onto the table in front of James with such force that the silverware rattled. “Even if you don’t agree, it’s all right, because we’ve checked with insurance and HR.”

James did not move, instead staring at the thick folder before him with such intensity that Justin thought it might catch fire. Finally, he raised his sharp blue eyes to his son’s face, and Justin had to wonder at the electricity in those eyes – eyes he had so long been spellbound by, locked into place by some wretched sense of duty.

“You son of a bitch.”

Under any other circumstances, Justin would have seized the other man by his collar, throttled him, laid him out with a cold cock to the nose – but considering the situation, he could only laugh. “Hey, now, I don’t think it’s right to speak that way about the dead. I dunno about Irish culture, but I know for sure mom’s people wouldn’t like you talking about her that way.”

“I’m not talking about her, you raving buffoon. I’m talking about you. You absolutely incompetent monkey. What on earth were you thinking?”

What was he thinking? He’d had a primer on the bylaws when his father had installed him as CEO of this venture, but after the train accident in the spring, Jennifer had sat him down and gone over them with him in depth, and he realized how stupid everything was. How so little was dictated by fate, and how if he wanted to have any say, he would have to seize control of what little he had. There was no evidence to support his deepest of thoughts, of course, the suspicions and conspiracies he’d concocted in the middle of the night when only his bottle of cheap tequila was there to keep him company.

But he’d had a gut feeling like this before.

And this time, he would not allow someone he loved to die for it.

“What can I say dad?” he finally said, spreading his hands wide into a shrug, his grin turning sharp. “I never was good with your money.”

#culture shock #ch: justin #ch: jennifer #i've said it before and i'll say it over and over until i am hoarse:#i love justin's backstory #i could write an entire story just for him #there are some Hints that i am dropping here #that we will go further into in arc three #but i just wanted to get this out and posted

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sophiexwrites · 4 years

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A Gift from the Ghost King

Inspired by this awesome headcanon from @give-nico-a-gun, thanks a ton for the inspo! It’s come to be a long-ish one, 2.2k words.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Christianity and needles, but not in the medical context... it’s really just harmless and sweet.

Setting: General Riordanverse/PJOVerse with canon/established Solangelo.

Mentioned couples Christmas sweaters from the shop (link).

Note: because most people recognise American-English more than normal English, I’ve decided to go American this time, like dropping the u when I have to and using ‘sweater’ instead of jumper so that no-one gets confused (fingers crossed I do it properly).

Nico and Will, for all their opposites, had one major thing in common: they were raised Christian. Neither were quite sure why, since their mothers were well aware of the Greek pantheon of gods rather than a monotheistic one, but they supposed their childhood communities wouldn’t have taken sweetly to the change.

Which meant the emo teen wasn’t focusing on Halloween this October, but on Christmas. Already. What do you get someone who claims to have it all?

Talking to his friends didn’t help much. Most of them suggested medical equipment or a simple day off; there were even a few jokes about sunscreen that Nico didn’t quite understand. Those of them who knew Will better said they were buying him new arrows, notebooks or trinkets to fit his sunny-surfer-dude aesthetic - those were great ideas but Nico couldn’t copy them. Will knew him well enough to tell whether it was Nico’s idea or not. The pale teen scowled, wondering why he even asked. He was completely stumped.

Until early November, that is, when Will began to drop hints. Nico only realised it when when his boyfriend convinced him into a store just to look at their collection of couples Christmas sweaters, covered with sickeningly sweet messages and nicknames.

"Aww. look Neeks - this one says ‘Don't go bacon my heart’!" Will laughed a laugh that turned Nico's cheeks to bright red, pointing at the sweater closest to them. It was attached to another one, reading ‘I couldn’t if I fried’, along with a drawing of a fried egg reaching out toward the other’s bacon.

The hints came a few more times before Nico swallowed his pride and decided to learn how to make one from scratch. Why DIY? Because everything Will did for Nico was done himself: from writing and playing his own music (nevermind how Will’s voice was definitely not winning X-Factor material), to the fake Mythomagic set full of realistic depictions of the gods, or the admittedly adorable summertime picnics with more food and baked goods than Nico could ever eat. Nico felt it was time to return the favor, and step one was learning how to knit.

It started clumsy and full of holes. Nico seemed to have a talent for dropping stitches. The section he was working on started too tight, then so loose that it was almost falling apart. After two weeks of constant secret practice, however, along with more YouTube tutorials and undone rows than he was willing to admit, Nico made something basically shaped like clothing.

But it was just regular, boring clothing. Of course, Nico knew Will would be overjoyed at just that, but this was the first Christmas the couple planned to spend together, at camp. It was time to go big or go home.

Long story short, Nico swallowed his pride again: this time, to ask his step-mother how to embroider. He was met with suspicious glances and wary questions before Persephone began cooing in delight.

“Oh, that’s the cutest thing! Who knew you could be so soft?” She giggled, already rushing around for threads, test fabrics and needles. “Though I suppose you take after your father, he’s secretly a big softie, y’know - now, are we doing patches, appliques, or diving in the deep end and sewing right onto the yarn?” Nico had a rule not to dive into anything, but with Christmas soon approaching he had to learn fast. Somehow, too, he had to keep it a secret from Will. By December 10th, he’d pretended the wide-eyed needles poking out of his cabin floorboards were totally a prank from Cecile, and Hazel definitely left behind the scrap of paper filled with wobbly cursive last time she visited... Will simply hadn’t noticed. Nico was just glad his boyfriend didn’t have time to read what was on the paper before he snatched it away; that would have ruined it all.

Christmas came quickly, fronted by sleepless nights of embroidery and fingers full of pinpricks for Nico. But he was glad to have it done by Christmas Eve, all wrapped and stashed under the black tree in the Hades Cabin. Usually, he would be spending the night alone, but tonight a warm Will-shaped bundle of joy hugged him while they slept. Nico could only hope he would be as happy the next morning.

“Is this one from you?” Will asked, voice quiet with hidden excitement. Nico nodded, too nervous to speak, pulling at his plain hoodie. The wrapping fell away as Will teared and tugged, soon left left cradling a lump of fabric. “This is... beautiful, Nico!” The nervous boy’s chest sagged in relief, smile stealing onto his face as Will threw off the sweater he was wearing and donned the new creation, spinning around in his rush to the nearest mirror.

“Do you like it?”

“Oh Gods, Nico, of course! Did you make this? Thank you so much!” Will held it up before putting it on, gifting Nico with a laugh like soft rain pattering down on a warm summers day as he read the words out loud. “Significant Annoyance? That’s perfect!” Nico laughed with him, glad the nickname was still well-received, as the teen slipped it on.

He was the greatest model Nico could have asked for. A narrow frame showed off the fabric well: a stunning blue, deep and bright at the same time. Nico thought he’d chosen it because it was cheap, but when Will put it on he realised it’s because it matched the doctor's eyes perfectly. The body of it fit well, even if the arms were a little loose, which made Nico glad he hadn’t painstakingly added rows upon rows of purled stitching for a cute pattern or edge. It wouldn’t have been worth the struggle - the embroidered words were centerpiece enough. They spilled across Will’s chest in a haze of silver, grey and white; threads mixed and blended in the way Persephone had learn from Athena herself. The 20 letters had taken ages to get right, but to see them coupled with Will’s pure joy and excitement as he studied them in his reflection made all the effort worth it.

Needless to say, it beat Will’s gift to Nico that Christmas... which may or may not have been a good thing, because Will’s competitive nature soon swarmed up, and he was already making a gift of his own by the New Year.

“Kayla!” He rushed, panting, into the Apollo cabin from the infirmary. “Please tell me you know where I left my other needle?” Will held a lonely knitting needle in his right hand, pointing it at his half-sister.

“Laundry pile.” She replied, waving behind her towards said pile. It was mainly full of denim and orange cotton, but Will managed to extract the pale wooden tool after some digging. “Why, are you making something again?” It had been years since Will had done any knitting, having been taught by Malcolm Pace of the Athena Cabin during Will’s first few weeks at camp, so Kayla had every reason to be curious.

“Yep.” Will fell onto his bed, after fishing out a ball of yarn from under it. “You know the sweater Nico made me?”

Kayla laughed, sitting up straight. “The one you’ve been wearing almost every day since?”

“Yeah, I want to make him one too.”

“What, for Christmas next year or something? Are you just going to hand it to him now?” His head was bent too far over his busy fingers to see as she raised an eyebrow at him, but he knew her sass too well.

“Oh, totally. You know me, just can’t wait to be organised and do everything in advance.” He grinned down at his work, shaking his head slightly with concentration. He didn’t want to drop a stitch, after all. “It’s his birthday on the 28th, I’m going to give it to him then.”

His sister aww-ed in delight, deciding (for once) to leave him be so that he could get it done on time. Will appreciated that, because he had a lot of work to do in the coming month - or, rather, 27 days.

Will certainly worked hard in those four weeks. Between shifts at the infirmary, general camp stuff and counselor responsibilities, he barely had time to himself let alone keep spending enough time with his boyfriend to make everything seem normal and knit him a sweater. Much like Nico had, he considered just buying one ready-made or getting someone else to help him, but he was eager to do it properly. So, it was a relief after sleepless nights and busy days that Will was finally finished with the sweater three days early; only the embroidery left. But Will was tired and had already misspelt half the terms on his latest patient file, so he had to keep it simple.

GHOST KING 👻 He finished, snipping the end of the silver-white thread. Will held it up to Kayla and the light, dusting off any last threads. “What do you think?”

“Ghost King...” Kayla read, a small smile on her face. “With a tiny ghost, too! That’s adorable, Will.” She wandered a little closer, inspecting the gift in the light cast from the sunrise. “You used a template, right? Because you can’t draw, and your handwriting has never been that good.”

“Geez, Kayla, no need to be so harsh.” Will smiled, clearly joking. “Of course I did, it’s got to be perfect for tonight.” It was already Nico’s birthday; Will stayed up all night to finish on time. Kayla knew this and sighed, deciding to make her brother get some rest.

“I’m covering your shift today, you need to sleep before you have your date tonight.” She decided, swinging Will’s bag over her own shoulder and giving his weary face a last look. “Seriously, sleep. I’ll make up some worthy excuse and tell Nico, he’ll understand.” Will protested for only a moment before yawning, and flopping down onto his bunk. A sleep couldn’t hurt...

He woke up near sunset that day, almost time to meet Nico. It was a rush for him to get ready and properly awake, but he made it to the woods just as the sun disappeared below the horizon.

“Will!” Nico waved from the edge, a small look of worry on his face. “I was, um... beginning to think you wouldn’t come.” He admitted, and Will felt his face burn in shame for making his boyfriend worry, even a little.

“Of course I’d come, I just slept in all day. Sorry.” He said, and they wandered a little deeper into the woods, searching for the clearing. Nico insisted it was no problem, which made Will feel more at ease. He was still excited, however, to show Nico what he made (the gift was hidden in his bag, with food for the birthday picnic).

The two made their way into the clearing in content silence, Will secretly itching to see Nico’s reaction to his gift. But he remained as patient as he could, happy to enjoy Nico’s smiles, quiet laughs and stories, enjoying his birthday together in the peaceful way Nico loved. In fact, Will (and Kayla, but she was sworn to secrecy) was the only demigod at camp who knew it was the Italian boy’s birthday - all Nico’s other friends were off in New Rome or the mortal world, after all. It made for far less stress on Nico’s half: he didn’t want random people wishing him a happy birthday all day. No, Nico di Angelo was perfectly joyful to spend the night with his Significant Annoyance under the stars, especially when he surprised him with a gift.

“Here you go.” Will said, presenting a soft package wrapped in black paper with tiny ghosts. The Son of Apollo bought it specially for that, and the remaining roll would stay unused in his cabin except from wrapping Nico’s other gifts: so he was relived to see the other boy smile ever so slightly.

“Thanks, Will.”

“Don’t thank me yet, you haven’t opened it!”

“Okay, okay!” He almost laughed, ripping the paper to reveal an equally dark sweater. “Wow, did you make this?” Will hummed in excited agreement, watching Nico unfold and hold it up to the moonlight.

“Oh my Gods.” He read the words and for a moment Will thought he was going to hate it. But then Nico laughed - no, giggled - a clear, pure sound cutting through the crisp air like a knife through cake. “It’s pretty cool, thanks Will.” The compliment wouldn’t seem like much to an outsider, but Will knew it meant a lot. Nico turned to look at the blond with his dark brown eyes, plain and simple in a way Will could get lost in forever. They were creased at the sides as he smiled, a true smile with his eyes that Will enjoyed so much. He looked good, too, with the well-fitting black sweater on, small letters and tiny illustration embroidered on the neckline.

“Stop staring.” Nico suppressed a smile, going red as his boyfriend shook his head slightly before looking Nico in the eye again.

“Aww, but you look so cute!”

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kisskissbanggang · 4 years

Text

Prowl pt. 2

[30+Min. Read/12.1K Words – Mystery Member👀 x Female Reader, Bang Chan x Female Reader, – Monsters!AU, Mostly Plot, NSFW/Smut – Vampires & Werewolves, Heists, Mysteries, Suspense, Blood, Questionable Coping]

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The cold, salt air tickled your nose as you watched the sun finally complete its journey beneath the horizon. You arose from your seat by the window, taking a sip from your first steaming cup of coffee for the night. However, maybe you didn't need to stay inside and hoard your aunt's coffee maker again. Maybe it was finally time to explore the town.

It'd only been about a week since that night at the library. The cops came roughly fifteen minutes after you punched the silent alarm, surprised and bewildered by the bloody and bruised girl sitting in an exhausted heap on the office floor. The paramedics arrived before you could protest, already feeling antsy about the time persistently crawling towards daybreak. A medic cleaned you up while the police looked around the library, scraping under your nails and pulling errant strands of hair that had clung to your sweater. It was difficult to feel present, to truly grasp if anything had actually happened that night. Really, it all sounded ridiculous and that only helped everything feel more surreal. The woman tending to you looked puzzled as none of the blood she meticulously wiped up revealed anything more than minor scratches underneath. A man in a suit excused her and pulled up a chair. He asked for your name, what you do at the library, did you know see anything recognizable about the perpetrators. You were almost no help, having seen no one’s faces, except…

“Well,” you carefully paused, “one of them helped me make it out alive. They were talking about taking me or maybe even… I don't want to think about what, but one of them helped me.”

The detective sat up, alert with pencil in hand and poised to go.

“Chan,” you said quietly, looking up from your shoes long enough to see the detective's eyes widen for just a second, “he said he saw me at the bar earlier. He can't be much older than me. Has a scar on his nose. He convinced the others to leave me here.”

“Do you think this ‘Chan’ had ulterior motives in keeping you alive?”

“I think he’s just a good guy working with a bad crowd,” you shrugged, eyeing the detective cautiously, “I just wish I could see him again. Ask him some questions of my own. Let him know how thankful I am.”

The detective had nodded knowingly, penciling in a couple notes and snapping his notebook shut. “Well, miss, that about settles my needs,” he said as he got up and smoothed out his suit jacket, “I understand that situations like this can take a toll on a person. I would consider seeing the school's mental health counselor… Maybe take a trip to the coast.”

“Wouldn't you want me to stay in town for questioning?” You asked curiously.

“No need. We have your phone number. Besides, there’s plenty of us around, even out there. We can find you if we need to. Or you can find us just as easily, for that matter.”

And, with that, the detective had nodded his thanks and left you alone in the office, just as Chan had not long before.

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So you went to the coast. Leaving school wasn't difficult; the counselor may as well have packed your bags for you when you explained what happened. Your aunt had lived here for years now, keeping residence in a quaint A-frame that overlooked the beach from where it sat up in the forested hills. You remembered dreamy summers spent here when you were younger, wondering what it was like to live in a sleepy town that had an off-season. You'd never been here when the leaves changed color, and you suspected that was the most exciting thing that happened the rest of the year. It was easy to hide out, telling your aunt you had a hard time sleeping at night after the incident and that you'd rather sleep during the day when you felt safer. Lying felt bad, heavy in your gut, but no one in your family knew about your condition yet. It wasn't time. You weren't sure if it would ever be.

Your aunt kept the keys for her dumpy pickup hanging by the door. She offered that you could use it to get around town while she slept, even if not many things were open late in the off-season. Her only caveat had been that you had to be careful — apparently “hooligans” had been a problem around town. However, you felt restless and you knew for a fact that the diner at the end of the main street was open, having passed it on your bus ride into town your first night here. The diner was hard to miss, sitting next to a storefront with a line of fluorescent tape barring the entrance.

The diner was lively and warm as you walked in despite the scarce patrons. The truck’s heater was shot, so you had bundled up in a coat with your bandana up over your nose. The bandana still smelled thickly of Chan, having tucked it into the pocket of your skirt before the police came that night. Even after washing it repeatedly to rid it of all the blood, it still smelled perfectly like him. It was almost a totem, shielding you and keeping you feeling safe. Even though you still had your doubts, you held onto this idea of him. As long as that smell was surrounding you, he was always near and you could face anything.

You let the bandana drop around your neck and hung your jacket on the back of a chair at the bar. The staff was sparse, only two old men who were friendly enough to make up for their speed. Apparently, these were Bill and Fred.

“Well then,” Bill smiled, “a stranger at this time of year? Who do you belong to?”

You smiled and thumbed over your shoulder to the truck parked outside and both men erupted into boisterous laughter, more than happy to share anecdotes about your aunt from over the years.

“So, young lady,” Fred asked as they finally brought you your cup of coffee, “what do you do when you’re not escaping to the beach?”

“Oh,” you stumbled over your tongue as you sipped at the hot brew, “I'm an assistant with the rare books section of the university’s library.”

“Fancy that,” Bill beamed, “you must have one hell of a head on your shoulders.”

“In fact, you probably would've loved the old bookstore next door, before—” Fred shushed himself instantly as Bill waved frantically for him to stop. However, you perked up.

“Yeah! I wanted to ask about that. What happened there?”

The two men looked warily at each other.

“You don't want to hear about that, young one,” Bill attempted. You shook your head.

“I really do. I can handle it.”

Not taking the bait, Bill folded his arms as Fred leaned in.

“We've been having a lot of vandalism going on in town this season,” he said quietly, “even some petty theft. But this is the first time in ten years someone was killed. And certainly the first time anything like this has happened. These punks—”

“They're not just some punks,” a voice behind you spoke up. A young man, barely younger than yourself, stood up from the booth he had been sitting at. He was handsome, lithe in the area’s requisite flannel shirt and a denim jacket that was probably older than he was.

“You keep saying that,” Bill shook his head, “but I—”

“I know, I know,” the stranger sighed, “nothing ever happens here. But Mr. Shepherd wasn't just robbed, he was murdered.”

“Sure,” Fred shrugged helplessly, “but where did they go? They could be down the coast by now.”

“Or they're still here,” the stranger insisted, stepping forward and pressing his hands down on the bar. “I've been noticing something weird on my way home each night. Smoke out past the trailhead. But I never find any camps or fires.”

“Then tell the police,” Bill said simply.

“You're right,” the stranger replied flatly, “why am I even bothering telling you.” He dug his wallet out from his pocket and flipped a couple of bills onto the counter. “Thank you for the coffee as always. Hers, too.”

You almost felt bad for the old proprietors of the diner, but you understood where this stranger was coming from. You had questions, just like he apparently did. From everything you understood about the business, thieves hardly ever stole books. And — considering the possibility that you were right and the detective had pointed you in the direction of Chan — then these same wolves had stolen more. Why books? Why here? Why kill the bookshop owner and not you? Chan’s voice rang through your mind, “I care about innocent people getting hurt, they don't.” Something had to have happened but you couldn't figure out what.

“Poor kid,” Bill grumbled as he topped off your coffee, “he's been working at Adam Shepherd’s place next door for a few years or so now. Even rents a room in his house. He's been taking it real hard. Hasn't had it in him to open the shop back up.”

“Can't say I blame him,” you commiserated. Fred and Bill nodded in solemn agreeance as you took a hearty gulp of your coffee. You stayed, asking about the trailhead and where it was even though you know you shouldn't, that you were only inviting yourself into a rabbit hole. But if Chan was out there and he could tell you why this was happening and maybe even help you steal back the college’s property, then maybe it was worth it. You had to admit you felt a bit humiliated, that you could let your guard down to a handsome face and electric personality long enough to be robbed blind, but something about Chan had ignited something primal in you — something that felt entirely foreign, but at the same time something you could vaguely understand the shape of.

You had to at least see for yourself. Bill and Fred were sad to see you leave for the night, but eagerly professed their excitement to have you back during your stay. You still left a generous tip on the counter despite the stranger paying for your coffee. In searching the dilapidated pickup, you found a utility knife and a hefty flashlight as far as anything useful went. However, useful was useful and at least there was anything at all. You drove up to the trailhead, making note of landmarks along the way.

As you stepped out, you pulled your handkerchief back over your chilly nose and warily observed a compact motorbike parked next to the trail map. The outlined path twisted up the hill, around the creek, and down to the beach — just as the duo at the diner had described. You gripped your flashlight and set off.

The hiking trail was well-kept, clear and fortunately illuminated by a moon in waxing gibbous hanging heavy in the sky. The ground was firm beneath your feet and gave way to sandier terrain as you neared the creek. Sure enough, there was smoke high in the forest, far off the trail. The best plan of action appeared to be to hike the trail as close as you could before venturing through the woods and brush.

A chill coursed through your shoulders and spine as you heard a branch snap in the distance behind you. You turned, refusing to click on the flashlight in your hands in case you might spook whatever had spooked you first. You burrowed deeper into your coat to shield you from the draping cold of the night and blazed ahead.

Another snap behind you stopped you in your tracks, only for a moment as you realized the sound was closer this time. You looked up ahead. Despite the supplied moonlight, you still had to squint to make out that the trail curved around to follow the creek up ahead. If you cut through the woods you could probably make it to the other side and back onto the path.

The footsteps grew faster as yours did, leaves crunching underfoot as you scrambled into the brush. You yanked your handkerchief down to breathe, to grab lungfuls of air when you smelled it. An overwhelming breeze of veal and sweat flooded your nose. Not to mention that somewhere, a some point, the rugged scent of woodsy beach fires had been here. Was your mind playing tricks on you, or was Chan nearby?

The creek came into view. It was a good bet that the trail came out somewhere on the other side, but it was a bet nonetheless. As the panting steps behind you began catching up, you vaulted over the creek, not wanting to risk falling into the cold water when you were on the run. You silently cheered yourself on as you caught a lucky break, a cursing splash erupting behind you to let you know you lost your pursuer. You sprinted ahead, dashing over rocks and felled branches and dodging low foliage when you caught sight of a figure ahead of you. The only difference was they were going the same direction you were: away from whatever was behind you. Still, one in front, one and who knew how many more behind you. Beyond the figure the trail came back into sight, with a shack and driveway attached nearby. A dumpy outpost to sell bait by the creek and beach, assumedly. You must've been nearing the road again.

You hazarded a look behind you as you ran up to the shack. Turning back to the front, the figure in front of you had disappeared. Sure enough, a modest shop sign hung above the door, and another hung in front reading “Happy fishing! See you next summer!” The season was wrong for buying bait, but it was perfect for hiding out. You ran around the rear of the modest shop and found the back door. You jimmied the flimsy screen door’s lock easily enough but the wooden door beyond proved to be more of a challenge. Thankfully, you guessed just how safe the town thought it was as you spied a coffee can sitting on the crowded porch. You kicked it over, picking up the spare key and letting yourself in.

The first step to securing a hiding spot for now was to lock both doors behind you. Next, you clicked on your flashlight. A chair was parked under a desk in the tiny back room and you grabbed it, dragging it over and jamming it under the doorknob. Now your biggest concern was getting out of here before sunrise, the clock on the wall agreeing with the time on your phone that it was getting dangerously close to sun-up. You just had to make sure you were alone so you could escape to the truck. You checked the store proper, looking between cluttered shelves in the tiny shop to check for anyone hiding when a noise startled you in the dark. You clicked the flashlight back off and considered your options. Going out the way you came seemed too easily cumbersome. The fastest option was to hide. You ducked into the back room once again and crawled under the desk. You sat as still as you could, steadying your breath to be slow and quiet when the front door crashed open with a hushed curse, the bell over the door jamb ringing the intruder’s arrival. Whoever it was breathed hard, heavy with adrenaline and fear. No scent of veal, no more than Chan’s scent hanging around your neck, but something new — something like seared venison, almost. Venison and buttercups. The figure also checked around the shop, looking around and soon enough making it into the back room. You clapped a hand over your mouth, nervous as a pair of shoes confronted you under the desk. What was the best move? You could wait, but your fellow intruder would probably check under the desk if they were smart. Then you would be cornered with nowhere to go. No, the best plan was to fight your way out now and get back to the truck. You mustered all the patience and energy and fearlessness that you could before grabbing at the ankles in front of you. The intruder cried out, falling over as you pulled on his legs. He crashed to the floor, getting his arms up to protect his face as you scrambled out in an attempt to crawl over and away from him. Your arm was snatched, pulling you down and rolling you onto your back as the figure cursed and struggled with you on the floor. One of your wrists was clutched down onto the hardwood floor in a desperate hold. Gripping your flashlight, you smacked him hard once, twice on the back, and your assailant let go of you long enough to try and snatch it out of your hand. You dug a knee into his hip, kicking him off and away from you. You clicked on the flashlight, pointing the beam right at his face.

“Hey! A bit late for a hike, isn’t it?” You breathlessly accused as you were faced with the young man from the diner. He held up a hand to shield himself from the light and you turned it back off. Even just by the light of the moon, his large eyes still shined wildly in the dark.

“A bit late to be chasing and attacking strangers, isn’t it?” He bit back as he massaged the arm he fell onto.

“I wasn't chasing you,” you defended, “I was being chased myself.”

“By who?”

“By wolves.”

You got back up and onto your feet, offering the man your hand to help him up. He looked at you cautiously enough that you could make it out in the meager moonlight streaming in through the streaked windows. Nevertheless, he took your hand, getting up and dusting himself off.

“Were you trying to find your stolen books?” The man asked. You straightened up a bit, on edge.

“I didn’t mention being robbed back at the diner,” you replied carefully.

“No, but unlike a lot of people here, I watch the news. Only thing is, the news didn’t mention anyone present at the university robbery other than the thieves themselves. But you mentioned back there that you work for the library. And if you’re here now, then you must be looking for them, too.”

You sighed heavily as you took a step closer. He took one step back. “No, it was an honest coincidence. My aunt really does live here.”

You weren't sure why you were lying, or even if it really was lying at all for that matter. You took one more step closer. He took another step back. “Quit it,” you soothed, “I hit you really hard. I want to see if you're okay.”

The man eyed you warily as you gently took his hand again and led him to sit on the desk. You gingerly slid one arm out of the sleeve of his jacket before you softly lifted his shirt to check on his back. The bruises that had erupted on his skin were just starting to darken. You lightly touched the marks, feeling for anything broken or loose. The pulse of blood rushing through him made your heart skip a beat. Suddenly, you were painfully aware of how tired and hungry you were. How long had it been since you properly fed? The man winced and groaned as you thoroughly checked him, but you admired how he beared it.

“Hey,” you quietly offered, wanting to help distract him from the pain, “I’m sorry to hear about Mr. Shepherd. You were close?”

He nodded solemnly. “We were close. I was a teenager. My foster parents moved us around a lot growing up, and one day I just realized… I didn’t need to be there. They weren’t doing anything for me that I couldn't do myself. So I waited for them to try and move us again. We took a quick stop on the road here, and I just ran. I ended up at the bookshop. I had no family, no money, no manners, and he treated me like a person. He was my first real friend.”

Your heart sank. It was difficult to imagine not only losing someone so close to you, but to also have the thing you shared get destroyed and ravaged? You squeezed his shoulder sympathetically, jumping as the alarm on your phone buzzed. Sunrise was coming. You shook off your odd rush of sentimentality and focused.

“Well, thanks for not being a murderer — what was your name? I never caught it.”

“Jisung,” he supplied with a small smile.

“Alright Jisung,” you smiled back, “I'm glad to diagnose you as bruised but otherwise fine, but I have to go. I’d offer you a lift but—”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” he waved you off, “I rode here. Are you sure I can't walk you back to your truck?”

“No, I—” your heart raced, making you trip over your words as you noticed the sun peeking over the horizon. You were so tired all of a sudden.

“Hey,” Jisung perked up, hopping off the desk as your stance wavered, “are you alright?” He followed your glance out the window and looked back at you, eyebrows raised dubiously.

“Yeah,” you smiled weakly, “I guess I just wore myself out tonight.”

You attempted to steady yourself on the edge of the desk as your vision faded. Jisung took one step closer. You took one step back, teetering as you finally fell asleep in the growing daybreak.

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It was alarming to wake up in your own bed back at your aunt's house. This still took getting used to occasionally, waking up as if no time had passed. You pulled open the curtain — your aunt's truck was parked in front of the house as if nothing had happened. How did you get back? The heavy flashlight you’d held onto all night was laying next to you in bed.

A quick shower helped soothe your worried mind, the hot water massaging your sore limbs and helping you think. You bundled up in some fresh clothes and jumped into the truck again, flashlight in hand. Your mind began winding up even more as you drove into town. Jisung’s motorbike wasn't parked anywhere near the diner or the bookshop, so you ducked in to see the old proprietors of the coffee shop.

“Hey,” you smiled, trying to look casual as you walked up to the counter.

“Nothing better than someone who’s consistent,” Bill smirked. “Nice to see you again. Coffee?”

“No, thank you,” you grinned, “do either of you know where Jisung is?”

“Ah,” Fred waggled his eyebrows at you, “so you caught up with him last night?”

“Oh, uh,” you stumbled, “I had some books I wanted to lend him.”

“Sure,” Bill laughed, supposedly knowingly, “well, if you have books to lend him, of course. If he’s not at the shop, then he should be home. It’s tricky getting up there, though; hardly any street signs out that way.”

The men were nice enough to give you directions once they were done ribbing you, and you promptly thanked them and trotted back out to the truck, all the while hoping the growing wind chill masked the blush spread across your face.

You drove back up the main street, up towards the cliffs at the top of the town's skyline. The woods grew more dense, crowding the road as the streetlights became more scarce. The truck wound its way up a woody drive, the trees finally peeling away to a clearing that revealed an immaculate, old Victorian. You found yourself gawking at the spires and weathervanes decorating the roof as you approached the porch. For some implacable reason, you felt a bit dumb ringing the doorbell of this perfect stranger in the middle of nowhere late at night. A ray of light hit the lawn from the upper level of the house as a curtain was pulled open. It took a couple of excruciating minutes for the figure in the window to warily approach the door, and then you were confronted with Jisung sizing you up on the threshold, surprised and looking much cozier than the other night dressed in a pullover and sweats.

“What’re you—”

“How did I get home last night?”

Jisung bit his in-progress retort to a pause and sighed. He stepped aside and presented the entryway to you. “It’s freezing out there. You can come inside and I'll explain.”

You thought about it, fingers fidgeting as you weighed the options. You stepped across the threshold. Jisung led you into the foyer. You spied a sitting room gathering dust just off the entryway. Jisung started up the staircase, pausing halfway to check if you were following. Cautiously, you stepped up the creaky stairs after him, finding yourself walking into another sitting room up here. Stacks of books surrounded a few pillows sitting on the hearth of the fireplace, across from a plush couch and chaise lounge. Jisung held a hand out, motioning for you to take a seat on the couch while he plopped down on the lounge. You found yourself still taking in the room. A four-poster bed sat in the corner of the sizable space. Jisung caught your attention, watching him watching you observing the room.

“So,” you prodded, “downstairs—”

“It’s in progress,” Jisung replied coolly, “there's a lot to clean up... Now that Mr. Shepherd isn’t using it. Besides, my room’s the warmest in the house right now. Didn't you want to know how you got home?”

You nodded. “All I know is I was talking to you, and then I woke up at my aunt’s house.”

Jisung simply shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal. You fainted and I carried you back to the truck. We weren't far from the road. I just loaded my bike in the back and found the keys in your pocket. So I drove you back and put you in bed. Your aunt actually passed me on her way to work. She didn’t look like she had any idea, so I figured everything was fine.”

You watched him stiffly. Why did this feel hazardous, like you were crossing a rotting bridge? “Well,” you said carefully, “thank you. I appreciate it. Last night wasn't too fun.”

“It's alright,” Jisung smiled softly, “Mr. Shepherd had fainting spells, too.”

“Oh yeah?” You eyed him pointedly.

“Yeah,” he nodded soberly, “During the daytime. He was sensitive to the sun.” Jisung’s hard gaze matched yours, sizing each other up again. Were you both aware of what neither of you were saying?

“Then I'm extra glad it was you that broke into the store.”

“I passed it when we were being chased but I got cut off in the woods again. So I turned back and there you were. And I'm glad it was you and not someone else.” Jisung’s cryptic expression made the hair on the back of your neck raise, the shadows cast by the fireplace giving any nuance in his face a mysterious edge to it. The heat of the room exaggerated the smell of venison, of sun-kissed buttercups. You shook off whatever oddly inviting sensation this was and got up from the couch and swiftly turned to leave.

“Alright then, now that we cleared up what happened last night, I can get going. Thank—”

“When was the last time you fed?”

You paused, frozen despite the warmth of the fire. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know why you’re hiding,” Jisung got up as well. He took one step closer. You took one step further away. “Again, when was the last time you fed? You went down too fast and too hard for it to have been recently.”

“Why do you care?”

“Look, I'll level with you. I've been a blood bag for years now, running errands for Mr. Shepherd during the day and keeping him fed.”

You watched as he lifted his pullover and the shirt underneath. Illuminated by the fire, you could see where under the line of his ribs, right above the definition of his smooth stomach, laid a thick scar.

“You’re a familiar?” You asked quietly, unbelieving. You'd heard about familiars, but only in books. They were hardly ever purported to still be around. Nevertheless, Jisung nodded as he dropped his shirt back down.

“I mean, if you want to get formal about it, sure. But what I really was, was his friend. He took care of me. I would've done anything for him.”

This made sense, now that you thought about it. An offbeat working relationship and friendship like any other, just with this added element to it.

“Alright. So I'm reading you correctly. You’re offering—”

“I’m offering to help you.”

Your fingers twitched at the thought. You’d been getting increasingly hungrier since you came to town, but with that sensation came unease. This condition had brought you nothing but trouble. “Then tell me why you want to help me?”

“Because I want your help in return.”

The answer was so simple but nowhere near satisfying. You scoffed before you could stop yourself. “Oh, so a trade? And why should I help you?”

Jisung pushed a hand back through his hair. “You’ve dealt with these guys before. You’re smart. You can help me figure out what they’re doing and why.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Look,” Jisung said quietly. He took one step closer. You stood your ground. “I've lost my best friend. Our business is in shambles. I have a chance to fix that, but I still can’t fix everything. This is all I have, trying to get back what’s rightfully mine and finding out why Mr. Shepherd had to die the way he did. It wasn’t humane. It wasn’t fair.”

The look in Jisung’s eyes nearly made your heart crumble. He truly was broken over this, and you couldn't blame him one bit. He took another step closer. You still held your ground. You could hear the waver in both of your breathing.

“My whole life has been turned on its head,” he continued, “I'm sure you can relate. Helping Mr. Shepherd was part of my routine, my consistency, and that included feeding. And now it’s gone. Now I just live in a house that's too big and the walls are full of ghosts. Let me help you. If not for getting back what we lost, then to help me regain some control over my life.”

Jisung took another step closer. You took two steps back. This felt unfair to ask of you. It felt too big, too serious. You suddenly felt like a giant fool for coming out here. Not just to this house, but to the coast. Figure you did find Chan, what could he do? Would he really just tell you everything you wanted to know? This was dumb and reckless.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured, turning heel and rushing down the stairs, leaving Jisung in your wake as you ran to the truck. You refused to look back as you caught him in your peripheral, watching you from the porch as you swung the truck back around and went flying down the drive.

Back at the house, you sat on the bed by the window, watching the sun just begin to rise as you pensively sipped the last of some tea. You crawled under the covers, deep in thought. Did you want to let sleeping dogs lie?

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Waking up the following night was much more graceful, considering you laid down for a rest before sun-up. Following this method, you've found you could maintain a sort of sleep schedule that felt like your old life. You were still horribly preoccupied. You were almost a ghost, drifting around the house and aimlessly distracting yourself from your growing hunger and the constant stream of thoughts running through your head. Could you take Jisung up on his offer? Would that be any good for you, or him for that matter? Should you just go back to school? Did you even want to find Chan anymore?

One of these questions were answered as you sipped your first cup of coffee in bed, attempting to read and feel productive. You were startled as you heard a sound you hadn't heard since high school: a pebble bouncing off your window. Your fingers nervously peeled back the curtain, uncertain that you were really seeing what you were seeing.

Chan.

You crashed around the room, throwing on some jeans under your comfy flannel shirt and pulled on your coat. You ran downstairs as quietly as you could, tugging on your boots all the way. As you stepped out on the lawn, he looked so natural, just sitting on the rear bumper of the truck. You paused, taking in the sight of each other in the cold silence of the night before he rose to his feet.

“I knew you’d be here,” he smiled breathlessly. He took one step closer; the only signal you needed. You closed the short distance in an instant, your arms flung around his neck in moments. He held you tight, his nose buried in the crook of your neck and breathing you in before you took his face in your hands. A new scar had appeared under his eye, moving in next door to the one still healing on the bridge of his nose. Even though you had imagined this moment over and over, you never expected Chan to take your face in his hands as well and eagerly press a chaste kiss to your lips. The sensation made your heart leap in your chest but you excused it, refusing to get too excited over what was probably just an impulse.

You led him over to the porch swing and sat him down. His grabby hands reached back for you and pulled you down onto his lap. His fingers wandered your thighs and hips as he looked up at you expectantly. He didn’t look as if he could tell you had almost too many questions. In fact, he looked more like this was just a fun date. Well, you figured, if you wanted answers, you’d have to start somewhere. “What do you mean, you knew I'd be here?”

Chan looked down, absently focusing on his hands on your waist. “Me and the others split up around town to lay low. We move camps every two or three nights. We were right out there—” he explained, pointing out towards the dense woods flanking the property to the east, “when I saw you come home with your aunt that first night. But I didn't feel safe. I wasn't sure if you wanted to see me after what happened at the library.”

It was your turn to get lost in your staring, this time at his pulse beating in his neck. You shook yourself out of it. “For a second there, I was thinking the same thing.”

Chan nearly cooed for how gently he poked you in the ribs. “Oh, come on now. After what we did that night, how could I not want to see you?” Your spine went rigid despite the set of hips under yours teasingly bucking up against you. Chan was oblivious, instead taking notice of his bandana poking out of the pocket of your coat. “Wait, is that mine?” He marveled. “What the hell? That’s so cute. You’re so cu—”

“What do you mean, after what we did that night?”

Chan scoffed lightheartedly despite your hard lean away. “Awh, come on, I'm just joking.”

You rose with a start, making him jump. “You’re joking? I’m not,” you said briskly. “I come here on some wild chance that I'll find you and, if not, at least try to get over that night back at the library. I want some closure and you just want to relive a good lay.”

“Come on,” Chan rolled his eyes, “that’s hardly what I meant. Besides, it wasn’t even the sex I was referring to. It was the feeding.”

“Fine,” you crossed your arms impatiently, “Let’s talk about the feeding. Namely, what the others were doing while it happened.”

Chan shifted uncomfortably on the swing. “I don't know.”

You laughed out loud, getting Chan to jump again. “Oh bullshit you don't know. Why the library? What did you steal?”

“I don't know. It doesn't matter.” His gaze hardened, watching you cautiously as his fists clenched and unclenched.

“If it doesn't matter, then help me steal it back.”

“Excuse me?” Chan stood now, glaring down at you. Maybe he realized how reckless he was being, getting caught up in you like this. You stepped closer to him.

“Don't act offended. You dragged me into this by letting me live,” you laughed meanly, stabbing a finger into his chest, “I feel used and lost and my pride is hurt, and I want to do what's right. Help me steal it back, whatever it is.”

Chan exhaled hard. “I honestly don’t know. The others won’t tell me. And I'm not going to help you steal it back.”

“Why not?” You asked rigidly.

“Because this is critical. I want to take these guys down. You want that, too, don’t you? Then I have to let them get away with it for a bit.”

“Fine,” you sighed, “then why prove to me that you’re here? I'm sure you figured I'd want some answers.”

“I—” Chan looked away, suddenly nervous, “I meant it about the feeding. I've been thinking about it ever since. It’d never happened to me before, but it definitely never sounded like that when people described it to me, and the closer to the full moon we get, the crazier I get about it. I feel like I'm fucking mad about it, mad about you.”

You cursed your gut for igniting at the sight of how much you could see Chan meant it. Your hunger alone almost made you fall for it, let alone everything that attracted you to him that first night. However, you tried to remain focused, instead trying to see the almost pathetic desperation, the cloying affection masking his near-addiction. If he wanted you as anything more than that, you were confident he wouldn't even know for himself unless you gave in to him first. And you didn't want to give in to him.

“Come on,” Chan pleaded, “please.” He took your hand, leading it to cradle his face again. His fingers guided yours back, back around to his hair at the nape of his neck where he led you to grip him roughly. “Help me,” he begged, “you can be in charge. I'll do whatever you want.”

“Then get out of here,” you said, trying your hardest to sound firm.

“Baby, please—” Chan whined.

“No. I'm not your baby. And if you're not helping me then I'm not helping you. Now leave, or I will.”

“Don't leave,” Chan ordered desperately, changing tactics as he grabbed your wrist. You wrenched it away and stepped off the porch.

“Fine,” you snapped, “you get one more chance. Ready?”

Chan looked at you expectantly, eyes practically glistening at the prospect.

“If you won't tell me what those assholes stole from the library, tell me what they stole from the bookstore. Tell me what they stole from Mr. Shepherd.”

And the shine in Chan’s eyes was gone. “So now you're caught up in that, too?”

You laughed again, now too impatient to care how mean you sounded. “Caught up in that? It’s not the latest town gossip or something. There’s a literal crime scene down on main street. He’s dead, Chan, and that doesn’t just affect him. People cared about him, and good people at that. Tell me what you stole.”

Chan’s fists clenched firmly by his sides. “I can’t tell you,” he said quietly.

“Alright then. Come back when you want to help me,” you affirmed. Chan watched helplessly as you climbed into the truck and started it. He vanished in your rearview as you tore off down the drive. You drove furiously, unsure of what to do and what to expect from him now.

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

You pulled the truck down the alley behind the bookshop, stomping the brake and squinting in the dark for any sign of Jisung’s bike. The alley was empty and quiet, devoid of the motorbike as you searched around. You tested the doorknob at the rear entrance for the bookshop, momentarily surprised as it softly clicked open. Fair enough, you supposed, makes sense. What’s the worst that could happen? The store could get robbed all over again?

The door creaked as you cautiously let yourself in, gently shutting it behind you and taking in the shop’s backroom. The space was crowded, cozy, with spare stock lining the floor and shelves surrounding a small roll-top desk with accounting ledgers and notebooks on it. A single lamp barely illuminated the space in here. You leaned in to inspect the desk when a small sound in a minor breeze caught your attention. You turned your head to the source: a broken line of caution tape at the door that lead to the shop proper.

Stepping inside, you were immediately taken with the smell of aged books, but not without a faintly menacing hint of blood. The shop was surprisingly stuffed considering its wares and how small the space appeared to be. There could be books spanning centuries in here but it would still take you weeks — maybe even months — to figure that out for yourself. The store was truly intimate, a winding maze of shelves that gave way to a comfortable couch and some easy chairs gathered around a coffee table at the back of the floor. Like any good place to read a book, it felt like you could escape and unwind here. That is, before the place had been trashed.

The destruction was mostly contained at the center of the shop floor, but that still encompassed multiple shelves of books. Ripped pages and bindings joined ravaged books on the floor, some still dotted with errant specks of blood. You carefully stepped around the mess and found yourself at the counter. The rest of the lights were off in the store, save for one lonely floor lamp standing guard over the register, the thick shade casting just enough light over the countertop and wall behind it. A framed photo hanging there quickly caught your attention and you stooped in to inspect: a tiny, jolly old man, his crinkled eyes turned up in a smile as he had an arm slung around Jisung’s shoulders right where you stood. The caption penned in the corner of the photo in pointy script read, “J’s first day as partner.” You were suddenly incredibly curious as to how old this vampire had been. Really, Mr. Shepherd looked old enough to be Jisung’s natural grandfather, which made your chest ache. What had happened for him to turn at such an old age? More photos sat on the shelf beneath the picture frame. Jisung posing with his new motorbike, Jisung by himself pointing at their new sign that proudly proclaimed reinstated daytime hours, Mr. Shepherd smiling next to a new computer and a load of new books he never thought he could get from all over the world. A memo pad sat next to the photos, right under the phone hanging on the wall. You picked it up as you noticed the last date was fairly recent, and held it close to read in the dim store. Scrawled on top, indented with the ghosts of previous notes that had been written before, was Jisung’s chaotically neat print.

Shep,

Forgot to grab the mail today. I'll be right back to do inventory with you.

-J

“You know, that was the first time I ever forgot to grab the mail,” came a sullen laugh behind you. You whirled around, catching Jisung standing down the aisle in the doorway to the backroom. He was back in his worn denim jacket, this time over a well-used hoodie. The sudden panic in your chest dulled. “It’s weird,” he continued pensively, “how tiny things can have these giant consequences. I slept in, so I was running late, so I didn’t go to the post office, so I had to get the mail that night when I remembered... so I wasn't here. I should've been here.”

“Jisung…” You started, but you had no idea how to continue. Jisung took a tentative step over the threshold onto the shop floor.

“It's just bizarre, you know?” He continued, half-heartedly caressing spines of books as he passed. “You live this normal enough life, and something happens because of the tiniest thing and you feel like you'll never be the same again.”

“I get that,” you empathized, kneeling down to a scattered pile of books on the floor and picking them up. He watched, almost shocked that anyone could even begin to clean this mess he'd been avoiding. “You go on the wrong date,” you continued, “and the rest of your life changes and you never get to experience noon again. You swing back by the office to grab something you forgot, and you almost get whisked away by a pack of wolves.”

Jisung finally stopped watching, now squatting down next to you to help make the smallest dent in the carnage of the store. “So even after they robbed you, they almost took you?” He shook his head in muted anger. “Sounds about right.”

The hair on the back of your neck bristled. That sentiment sounded familiar. “They’re not all bad. They’re just as lost as we are. One of them convinced the rest to leave me behind. I was sort of hoping I'd find him out here. He was a good guy.”

“Well he must've moved on. One of them killed Mr. Shepherd. The rest watched. No good guys to be seen.”

You pictured the shadow of the wolf that had finally ordered the rest of the pack to leave you that night at the library. The book in your hand slipped from your fingertips, the thud on the floor making you jump. “I thought you weren't here.”

“I wasn’t. By the time I got here, he was already practically... dead.” He struggled with the words, the quiver in his quiet voice not helping much. “I got here in time to watch him die. So I may as well have not been here at all.”

You stacked the rest of the books that had sat in your arm, alphabetically by author’s last name by your feet on the floor. You hadn’t thought to ask Jisung how the store was organized, instead just doing what made sense at the moment to get things a little less chaotic. Books were easy. People, as a general rule, weren't. You found yourself unsure of how to help make Jisung a little less chaotic himself. What felt right was to gently place your hand on his between picking up books. He paused, just experiencing the sensation for a moment.

“How long have you been like this?” He asked thoughtfully.

“Only a couple of years,” you shrugged.

“Really?” Jisung’s eyes brightened with a surprised smile. “You’re practically a newborn!”

You'd laughed about it, your hand still lingering on his as you both moved to sit and relax on the floor now that there was a little more room.

“Was it hard to adjust? Mr. Shepherd would tell me he didn’t remember what it was like starting out.” Jisung still held onto your hand, now absently playing with your fingers. To be honest, you didn’t mind it.

You thought back. It felt like decades had passed since that first night. “I cried a lot,” you smirked darkly, “I grieved, you know? And you know the worst part?”

“What?”

“That asshole never called me back like he said he would.”

That did it. Jisung relaxed, letting out a hearty laugh that you hadn't heard yet. Now that you heard it, you just wanted to hear it again.

“Don't get me started,” you continued with a grin, “I hadn't even thought about those growing pains again until just now, and for good reason, apparently. The first time I fed was a disaster.”

“Oh god,” Jisung chuckled, “did you have anyone to help you learn the ropes?”

“Not yet,” you admitted, breathless as Jisung’s laughter pulled more from you as well until he paused. The shift in his focus was stark. You were taken aback as Jisung pulled your hand to turn you more towards him where you both sat on the floor. He lifted a hand to your face, softly cupping your cheek. The scent of venison and spring buttercups flooded your senses and you almost felt dizzy taking him in. You observed him curiously as he gently pulled at your cheek to look at your eyes.

“What are you—”

“Look how glazed over your eyes are,” he noted casually, now gingerly turning your chin to get a better look, “You still haven't fed since I last saw you.”

“Well, I— I mean that I— No. Not I haven't,” you admitted sheepishly, painfully embarrassed as you already felt the points of your canines threatening to emerge at the mere mention of feeding.

“Come on,” Jisung nudged you. “Let me help.”

“Jisung—” you began warily.

“Trust me. Please?”

The last time a guy asked you to trust them, you’d fallen down this entire rabbit hole. However, Jisung felt genuine to you. You nodded, nearly smitten with how his eyes lit up before you leaned in closer. Your breath barely ghosted over his jugular when he jumped.

“Wait— what are you doing?”

You leaned away fast, terrified that you may have scared him. “What do you mean, what am I doing?”

“You mean,” Jisung babbled, “you really do… That?” Eyes wide, he vaguely gestured towards his neck.

Now you were just confused. “Alright, Mr. Blood Bag, how did Mr. Shepherd do it?”

“Well, I mean, he didn’t want to make it weird for me. I showed you what he did.”

Recalling the other night, you brazenly reached for the bottom of Jisung’s shirt, startling him into falling back against the bookshelf. You rose back to your knees in hopes of getting a better look. He watched curiously as you inspected and pored over the scar before setting his shirt back down.

“So, you've never had it any other way?” You asked, almost unbelieving. Jisung simply shook his head, still observing you. “I’m trusting you. Do you trust me?” At this he nodded. You inhaled deep through your nose to balance out your breath, catching the pulse in Jisung’s throat hinting that he was trying to do the same. If he'd never had it this way, you figured, then he deserved a nice first time. You leaned forward, between his spread knees where he leaned back on the floor so that you were right back where you started, your breath hot on his throat. Jisung shivered as the tips of your canines grazed over his skin and you placed a soft hand on the other side of his neck to hold him steady. “Inhale,” you quietly instructed in his ear, wanting to do whatever you could to make this good for both of you. Jisung nodded intrepidly and you waited to hear, to feel him take in a good lungful of air before you sank your extended teeth into his skin.

His first gasp nearly set you on fire, finding it endearing as he clutched your arm for support in his shock. You were energized by such a positive sign, and even more so as he failed to bite back a low groan. The first layer of blood on your tongue hit you harder than you predicted, an uncontrollable moan from your craving escaping you and making Jisung freeze against you. In just that instant, both yours and his hands reached, grabbing onto each other as you gained more firm purchase over the skin of his neck. You weren’t seeing stars like you had with Chan, but something about the near innocence of your embrace invigorated you.

Growing dizzy in the high that blood this fresh always gave you, you felt emboldened as you crawled into his lap on the floor of the bookshop. You pulled away from Jisung’s neck, practically coming up for air. He looked up at you with something akin to impressed adoration, his own glazed eyes mirroring your own now. Swept up in all this spontaneity, you found yourself leaning in, following some force that was pulling you together — that is, until the distinct sound of a sniffle and a shaky breath perked your ears up.

“Jisung?” You asked quietly, trying to get him to look at you. “Are you al-”

“What, am I alright?” Jisung chuckled flippantly, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

You slid off of his lap, watching as he turned away. He roughly pulled the sleeve of his jacket across his face.

“Jisung—” you lightly chided, surprised as he got to his feet. He paced the floor, pushing a hand through his hair and trying to calm himself down.

“I'm fine,” he insisted with a grin. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and sigh, getting to your feet as well and following him as his pacing carried him down the aisle. You gently grabbed his hand and turned him around, pulling your handkerchief out of your coat pocket and blotting up some of the blood still wet on his neck. He stiffly pulled away like a kid from their mother when they try to pat down a cowlick.

“You’re not fine; you’re upset.” You lamented, trying not to get distracted by how appealing the congealing blood on his neck looked.

“I'm not upset, I'm angry,” he grumbled.

“Maybe you should be upset. You can't just be angry.”

Jisung batted your hand away with an exhausted laugh. “It’s not that easy.”

“What, confronting your feelings? It’s not supposed to be all the time. That’s why it’s called a confrontation.”

He side-eyed you, apparently relieved that you could keep up with him. His shoulders softened as he let out a deep sigh. Swiftly, he pulled away from you once more. He paced a few more steps to the end of the aisle, head hanging, before he stopped. You could see as he defeatedly shook his head from behind.

“I guess I haven't let myself admit that I'm really fucking lonely now,” he let out a tired chuckle, “I never realized how spending so much time around someone really affects you until they're gone. So with you around, and doing this… I guess it’s a little overwhelming.”

“Jisung,” you light-heartedly admonished as you gently took his hand again and pulled him around to look at you, “if I had realized sooner then we could've stopped. I got greedy. You gave me more than enough to get me through. I just, sort of — I dunno, I like being around you; I feel like you understand where I'm coming from, and I got carried away, and —” You let out a muffled squeak, your rambling cut short by Jisung’s hands cupping your face and his lips finding yours in the dark. You reactively pressed your hands to his chest and pushed him back. Jisung stared, embarrassed and just a bit confused.

“Oh,” he blinked, “I'm sorry. I was just — like a minute ago when you were feeding, I thought — I mean I was going to —”

You couldn’t help but grin, content enough with Jisung's apparently innocent intentions to match your own. You didn't need a soulmate or a boyfriend, you just needed someone to be close to for a bit, something you felt like Jisung understood despite his shock as you grabbed onto the collar of his jacket and yanked him close, kissing him with vigor as you fell back against the bookshelf. Jisung’s arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you close to him as he stepped back.

“Come on,” he urged against your lips, “you don’t have to cut yourself off; I can do more.”

He stepped back again, tripping back onto the couch in the reading nook at the back of the store and pulling you down on top of him as you kissed.

“Jisung,” you countered nervously, “I really think I'm fine, it’s enough for now--”

You were interrupted once again as Jisung scratched at the drying wound on his neck, getting it exposed again and dipping a thumb into it.

“Come on,” he pleaded again, “don’t lie to me. You need it. I need it.”

Before you could protest, his fingers delicately but firmly cupped your face, his thumb tracing the line of your bottom lip and smudging a drop of blood along it. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. The sensation raged through you and you could practically feel your eyes dilate as your lips closed around his thumb, sucking it dry before releasing. Reluctantly, you pushed yourself away and sat up on his lap, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. His hands reached after you, holding onto your thighs as if he were afraid you were going to run away.

“Sorry,” he breathed, “I need it so badly. I need you so badly.”

“I know,” you empathized, “I just don’t want to get carried away.”

“You won’t.”

“And if I do?” You insisted.

“Then I'll stop you. It’ll be fine.”

You chewed on your lip, weighing the consequences. Your eyes wandered over Jisung, his chest rising and falling with each shaking, desperate breath. He looked up at you, eyes pleading and adoring and so, so needy. The unmistakable feeling of a developing erection pressed up against you where your hips met, and it only served to cloud your judgement further. Your eyes darted from the wound on his neck, leaking down onto his hoodie, to his lips slightly parted with each bated breath, to his eyes anxiously waiting for you to decide. And you decided.

You were still hungry.

Your fingers delicately brushed his fringe out of his eyes, caressing his face before stroking your fingers back into his hair and roughly gripping him. He grunted as you guided his head to the side, opening up the access you had to the expanse of his neck. His breathing almost stopped entirely as your teeth grazed his skin, his hands clutching tight onto your waist. When you finally pierced through him for only the second time of the night, you both moaned, grabbing onto each other and practically shivering in pleasure. Blood washed warm over your tongue, nearly making you whimper from finally satisfying your hunger. And, thankfully, you didn't feel yourself overdoing it. For as much as you eagerly scratched and languidly lapped at Jisung’s neck, you thankfully found the bloodlust in your gut die down. And, for as much as you worked him over, he let you do it. He held fast onto you, groaning and hissing through the intermittent pain. His hips rolled up against yours as you fed, a response you figured he was just as surprised with himself. Something sparked in the back of your mind, making up for the lack of stars you’d seen when you'd fed on Chan, a ghost, a shadow loosely resembling affection for the man moaning under you. It was odd to feel connected like this, to be so comfortable with someone you hardly knew, but you wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

Jisung’s hands stayed firmly around your waist until you guided them to the buttons of your flannel shirt. “Wait,” he chuckled nervously, “are you sure--”

“We’re not done yet. This is still open,” you explained as you playfully poked him in the open wound on his neck, making him jump and curse, “and besides. I want it. I want you.”

He couldn’t resist, just as you couldn't before, and he slid your coat off of you before he resumed what you had led him to do with your shirt. Jisung carefully unbuttoned your shirt and slipped it off of you, immediately taking notice of your skin raising in goosebumps as he admired you. A basket sat on the floor by the couch and he quickly excused himself for just a moment to lean over and rummage through it and grab a blanket to drape over your shoulders before he unzipped his hoodie. He shimmied out of his jacket underneath you and worked off his shirt, these joining the growing pile of clothes on the floor as you both kicked off your boots. You huddled under the blanket with him, the warmth of his breath on your neck mirroring yours as you nuzzled against him. Your fingers danced along his collarbones and down his smooth chest.

“How many other girls get to enjoy this blanket?” You teased, giggling against his neck with him as you lazily licked up the rest of the blood you'd let out for yourself.

“Excuse you,” he laughed, “I happen to like reading on this couch when there's no customers, and I like to be comfy while doing so, thank you very much.”

“And how often are there no customers?”

“We sell used and rare books in a tourist town on the beach. When are there ever customers? Why do you think I can afford to take my time cleaning up around here?” You shared a laugh together before you pulled his lips to yours again, your tongues mingling in a way that made him moan deep. When you finally pulled back, the blood that you'd smeared against his mouth contrasted against his skin in the prettiest way.

“Well then,” you offered, the lilt in your voice hinting at things to come, “maybe once we’re done here we can work on cleaning up some more.”

“I’d really like that,” he replied breathlessly, gasping as he felt your hand search under the blanket for his hard-on. “You seem like you know what you’re doing,” he smirked.

“It’s useful to know what you’re doing when you're trying to get what you want.” You sat back, now further down on his thighs as you worked his belt and jeans open. Your hands traveled up the lines of his taut stomach, making you both wince as your fingers brushed over the thick scar on his ribs. “Are you alright?” You asked softly.

He nodded heavily, almost like he was refusing to get emotional again in a moment like this. “Yeah. I'm fine. I'm just really glad you're here. Helps me stay focused.” Just as you were about to question what exactly he was focused on, Jisung’s hands suddenly found purchase on the waistband of your jeans, pushing them down and apparently trying to remember to breathe as he came across your panties underneath. You backed up off of his lap, shrugging off the blanket for a moment as you shuffled off your jeans onto the floor as well. A muffled exclamation sprang from him as you laid back on the couch, pulling him on top of you with another kiss. Once he pulled the warm blanket back over the both of you, his hands joined yours in pulling your dampening panties off and dropping them to the floor. Just as he went to push his briefs and jeans further down, you stopped him.

“Both of us don’t have to freeze to do this,” you smirked, “now keep me warm.”

Jisung grinned as he nodded and kissed you again, one of his hands traveling between your bodies to see just how wet you were getting for him. Pleased, he tested his hard length in his grip before you felt it nudge up against your entrance. You gasped as he smoothly slid inside you, Jisung’s warm hands all over you as he slowly, almost lovingly thrust into you. Your hands wrapped around him, your nails occasionally digging into his back when he thrust a little more roughly.

“Jisung,” you pleaded, “fuck me.”

“Anything,” he reassured you, “anything you want.”

“Awh,” you cooed, “anything?”

“Anything,” he reaffirmed, “you’re a fucking princess for how much I'd give you.”

Jisung was nearly too lost in his rough thrusts against you, but he still noticed the small grimace you made at the pet name. His hips slowed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you grinned after shaking yourself out of it, “I’m just glad you’re here. You keep me focused, too.”

Jisung nodded, his smile matching yours as he tipped your chin up to kiss him again. He pulled you up against him, sitting back on the couch and setting you on his lap. You held him tight, one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hair as you rocked your hips against his. Your pert nipples caught his attention from where you sat on his lap, his arms wrapped tight around your waist as he closed his lips on your breast. A shiver ran up your spine at the apparently intimate gesture. You almost felt light-headed, the first hints of an orgasm coming to mind when Jisung leaned you back enough just to press a thumb to your clit as you rode him.

“Mmph, Jisung,” you whined for him, “you think you can cum with me?”

“No, no, wait,” he breathed, “bite me again--”

“Again?” You asked, grabbing onto his shoulders to help even out your quickened pace on his warm cock.

“Yeah,” he nodded desperately, “it felt amazing. It hurts in the best way.”

You sighed, considering if you even really wanted to say no before nodding and kissing his forehead. You leaned back, the cool fabric of the old couch meeting your back once more as you pulled him back down on top of you. Jisung kissed your hungrily, his hips bucking hard against yours as he continued massaging your clit. This time, as he moved his head aside, his lips found your neck and you simpered, loving the way he so gently pressed kisses to your pulse and grazed his teeth over your skin.

One of your ankles hooked back over his hip, your other leg spread wide so he could keep rubbing you closer to orgasm as you caressed his head to the side. Your hunger satiated, your teeth wouldn’t extend much by just willing them to, but you were still able to sink enough of the tips into his fresh wound. The sensation alone moved you to the precipice of your climax, the way Jisung tensed against you enough to push you over the edge. You pulled him to you for another brutal kiss, the copper taste of blood smearing against both your tongues as you whined into your orgasm. His hips faltered, his hand clutching tight onto you as he came along with you. Jisung’s cum flowed hot into you while he held you close, gasping for breath and whispering thanks and gratitude and sweet nothings in your ear until his hips finally stilled.

The both of you stayed like that, holding each other close until Jisung slowly eased out of you. He kissed your lips, your cheeks, your nose, your forehead -- everywhere as you smiled and took it.

“Did we really take that long?” He asked incredulously, peering out at the tall windows peeking out over the tops of the shelves at the front of the store. Over the thick valances, the first hints of orange were starting to streak in through the window.

“Oh, shit,” you grumbled, “do I have time to get home?”

Jisung rummaged around in the pile of clothes on the floor to find his phone and checked to make sure. He shook his head as he found your phone as well and handed it to you. Sure enough, you didn’t hear your phone buzzing on silent as the alarm went off.

“What do I do?” You lamented.

Jisung leapt to his feet as he began pulling his clothes back on. “You can crash here,” he gladly offered. “I'll do the same thing I did the other night and sneak the truck back to your aunt’s. If the truck is there she’ll probably just assume you’re in your room anyhow.” He shrugged on his hoodie and jacket before you stopped him.

“Wait,” you laughed, “you’re a damn mess.” You spied a scarf on the coat rack by the counter and grabbed it before wrapping it around his neck to cover the bites and blood. “So,” you prodded, “I crash here and you get the truck back… Then what?”

“Then I'll take care of my usual errands and get a head start on cleaning the shop before nightfall. Besides, maybe once I get some inventory done in here I can finally figure out what all was stolen.”

“Yeah,” you nodded with a smile, “that actually sounds great. I'd really like that.”

Jisung grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders before rummaging through your coat on the floor for the keys. “I’d better hurry; I want to get back to the diner and get some coffee before the day waitress comes.” And, with that, he kissed your cheek before rushing out the backdoor.

You bundled up in the blanket, contemplating how much you wanted to get dressed again before falling asleep as the sun slowly crept through the window. Outside, the truck rattled to life and slowly sputtered down the alley, not getting enough time to warm up. The blanket smelled thick with Jisung’s scent, making that oddly affectionate tug in your gut feel stronger. The cozy space of the bookshop felt that much cozier at dawn, welcoming the warm surroundings as you sat back on the couch when you heard a clatter in the back room. You sprang to your feet, the tiredness already starting to weigh you down as you stepped closer to see what must have fallen over. That is, if whatever fell over happened to smell like veal, like mahogany and fires on the beach.

“Well, it sure smells like you've been here--” Came a voice from the back room. You stiffened, hand tight on your phone.

Chan stepped into the shop. You took two steps back.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked, eyes narrowed.

“The better question,” Chan laughed, “is who leaves the back door unlocked? I was grabbing a bite to eat and remembered you mentioned the old man and the bookstore, so I thought I'd look for you here. Sure enough, the back door is open and all I smell is you.” He circled closer, eyeing you up and down in your blanket. “And you’ve been busy, I see,” he pouted, “is that why you wouldn’t give it to me?”

“That’s none of your business,” you spat, lacking the proper strength at the moment to struggle as he grabbed onto you and pulled you close.

“Princess,” he cooed, “baby, please, just feed on me and I'll be good.”

“I'm all full, but thanks anyways,” you glared at him. He leaned back, stunned and disgusted.

“Who the fuck--”

“Hey!” Came Jisung’s voice from the front door, the bell at the front signaling an arrival. You struggled against Chan now, who just stood his ground and clamped a hand over your mouth. Sleep threatened to take hold any moment now. “You know, locking the back door might be a good idea now that there’s someon--”

Jisung froze at the end of the aisle. The two men stared each other down before Chan finally let you go. You stumbled back a step.

“The shopkeeper’s lackey?!” He laughed boisterously, “You won't give it to me all of a sudden, but you’ll give it to him?”

Chan let out another mean laugh before Jisung suddenly drove forward the few steps it took to tackle into Chan’s chest. Both men fell to the floor as you sank down onto the couch, exhausted and fading fast. Jisung had the upper hand in making the first move, pinning Chan under him and landing blow after blow on him. Chan cursed wildly and attempted to fight him off.

“You goddamn son of a bitch,” Jisung roared, “you fucking murderer!”

You sprang to your feet, desperate to help, but both men only turned to notice in time for you to collapse.

You slept.

[To be continued.]

#mystery member #oh my god what even is this what have i done #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids smut #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #bang chan #bang chan breakdown #SPOILERS AHEAD #han jisung

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revrevrew-writblr · 3 years

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Angels and War

Content Warning: Some themes of abuse, betrayal, and death.

Against all odds King remained an idealist. He had only recently been called upon to make the more difficult decisions of war, the ones that made him doubt his beliefs. His doubts grew insurmountable at times, especially when his counselors brought up ‘necessary sacrifices.’ Surely there was a way to win the war without deliberately sacrificing a fourth of his armies.

If it wasn’t for that damned royal no one would have to die at all.

It had been three years since the nice of the angelic queen had spurned him and ignited this war. If she had gone through with the alliance and married him, like she had promised this war would not have happened.

It was fortunate neighboring kingdoms had taken his side in the debacle, otherwise his kingdom would already be under the rule of the Angelic empire.

Now if he could only get his nobles on his side, he would be golden.

Nobel Archer knelt before King and rose before King acknowledged them; the boldness of that action spoke volumes. The Nobel was at fault for the deaths of many of his soldiers and King had already decided their punishment.

“My King, you’ve summoned, and I am here.” A sly smile played on Nobel Archers face, his shoulders were back, his chest out, and his chin high.

King leaned forward, arms resting on his stone thrown. “Nobel Archer, are you aware of the crimes brought against you?”

The Nobles' smile faltered, “Crimes? My King surely you misspoke, perhaps news of my recent successes has not reached you?” He sounded doubtful.

King’s jaw clenched, his head slightly shaking, “If you call sacrificing a third of your soldiers, three ships, and our good name among the north alliances a success then yes I’ve been debriefed.” King gave a tight smile.

“My King… They were only commoners, they are... easily replaced. What is not easily replaced is our strong defenses around the marina.” A nervous laugh bubbled out of Nobel Archer.

“Just commoners?” A bitter taste filled King's mouth; his lip curled in disgust. It was true that the Marina had to be defended at all necessary costs, but Noble Archer had sacrificed more than was necessary. The most damning part being that the North alliances testified that Noble Archer had a less costly plan described to him but had shot it down, in favor of his own plan.

If Noble Archer had spoken kindlier of the common guards, King might have written the fault off to a hasty judgment made in the heat of battle. He would have removed Archer from his station and placed him somewhere less trying, but the way Noble Archer justified it, the way he came in expecting praise, betrayed Noble Archer’s true character.

“I think you will find, Archer, that nobles are just as replaceable. I am stripping you of your title, and sending you to the front lines,” to die.

“My King, please, don’t be hasty.” Archer knelt gingerly on the ground, as if meaning to keep his fancy suit clean. King rolled his eyes and leaned back, covering his mouth with his hand. “I understand your frustrations but perhaps I can change your mind. I’ve bought you a gift.”

It was rather pointless to ‘give’ King what would soon be his, but he entertained the pleading man. Sometimes a gift was more than to give, but rather to show. In this case Archer was showing off his connections. As if saying ‘if you throw me away, you also throw away what I can do for you.’

King gave a nod, and Archer stood leaving for a few moments, presumably to yell at someone to retrieve the ‘gift.’

When Archer returned it was with two guards dragging an angelic slave behind them. The guards deposited the drugged angel on the floor; she collapsed to her knees and swayed forward. The angel’s clipped wings sagged around her in a partial cocoon. Dazed, she lifted her head to survey the room.

It took King a few seconds of hard staring before he placed the face, it was hard to tell it was them without her layers of makeup.

What the hell is my ex, catalyst to a war, doing in my throne room. She had made it quite clear last time she saw me that she wanted nowhere near me.

Archer was still speaking when King cut Archer off, “Where did you get her?” His brows furrowed, his fists clenched, he barely glanced at Archer. He was watching Angel intently.

“Excuse me?”

“Where. Did. You. Get. Them?” King glared at Archer, his tone clipped and irritated.

“From a slaver in the south section of the city.”

“Wonderful.” King spat the word out, his lip curling. King could see the moment when Angel recognized him. His name forming silently on her lips. “This changes nothing Archer. Report to the front lines in the morning.” King waved them off. When Archer stood there stunned, King gave an irritated glance in his direction and signaled for the guards to escort him out.

King dismissed everyone else except Angel.

“Angel…” The word came out soft and full of past longing, though it was meant more as a curse. His hands shook as he grasped his knife, he felt every inch the spellbound boy he had been three years ago. Except this time, he would end it.

He stood on wobbly knees and began advancing on her.

Angel looked up at him with wet eyes, she started to tremble, hugging her torso. “King, I… You… what day is it?” Her voice wavered and was sluggish.

King paused at that, “It’s the third day in the year of Orioniah.”

Angel let out a long sigh, and her eyes fluttered closed for a second, a peaceful smile on her lips, “You have three days. Three days’ time before my aunt attacks over the deadly pass.”

King drew closer, using his knife to drive Angel’s chin upwards, exposing her throat. “Why should I believe a word you say?” Spittle flew from King's mouth.

Angel spoke softly and with her mouth mostly closed, careful to avoid the tip of the knife, “Because you know it’s true.”

King gasped at that; she knew his secret. No one knew, not since his parents died.

“I’ve known since the day I met you. I’m sorry I lied to you, but it wasn’t my fault.”

Like hell it wasn’t!

“We just established I can feel it when you lie to me, so I don’t know why you try.” King spoke through clenched teeth, pressing the knife closer to Angel's neck.

“Just because I don’t believe it, doesn’t mean it’s not true.” The knife scraped her throat when she spoke, blood dribbled down her neck. Guilt shot through King, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t feel guilty about a little blood spilt when he was about to spill all of it.

Said the torturer to his victims.

King eased the knife slightly back.

Magic wasn’t an exact science, King was more of a lie detector, which with a great deal of concentration, or ignorance of the actual facts, he could be deceived.

“So, I should just trust you?” King sneered.

“I never said that. We both know you can get answers. Or you could just kill me, at this point,” her chin trembled, and tears traced down her face as she looked to her clipped wings, “I don’t think I care either way.”

King moved his knife hand back and placed his other hand around her neck, his thumb resting in her blood.

He was thrust into the past and into Angel’s memories.

~~~

Angel knelt for long minutes, prostrated on the floor, gritting her teeth and took a few calming breaths, trying to hide her frustration. Her aunt had called her and was making her wait. Angel needed this time to prepare for her team's next deployment, instead she was wasting time catering to the demands of a power-hungry dictator.

Finally, the queen spoke, “I’m cancelling your next deployment. I have a more important job for you.”

Finally acknowledged she could look at the queen, she sat up on her knees and feet. Watching the queen intently.

“I need you to procure a marriage alliance with King. I need you to woo him.”

Angel was going to be sick, “To what end?” The question boarded on insolence.

“Leave me.”

Angel left as quickly as possible.

SNAP. A new memory replaced the old.

Angel was breathing erratically as her aunt shoved her way into her rooms, the smell of strong drink on her breath. Terror crowded Angel’s view, this memory was hazy, her aunt looming over Angel as she reared back to kick Angel in the gut. Angel curled protective over her stomach.

I can’t fight back. I won’t fight back. I can’t… Angel coughed up a splatter of blood.

After some time, her aunt disappeared from her vision, and her cousin Alexa filled her view. Her tears fell on Angel’s cheeks.

“Why don’t you ever fight back?!” Her voice hitched on a sob, “Dammit!”

Angel reached up to her cheek, “If I do…” She’ll turn on you. You may not be a child anymore, but you are no warrior. You are not familiar with the pains of battle, and the strategic losses that one must take. This is my strategic loss. If I fight back, she’ll come to your rooms when she’s drunk. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

I love you.

Snap.

Angel dipping into heavy makeup and reaching for a long-sleeved turtleneck dress.

Snap.

Then memories of her and him, laughing, smiling, the feeling of love blossoming in her chest. She shied away from his touch in every memory, a fear lining her features for just a moment. How had he never noticed before?

Snap.

Angel was peering from behind a curtain, her aunt speaking in a hushed tone to her advisor. “You’ll have the cook line Angel’s cup with this, and I’ll insist that King pours the wine. We’ll pin the murder on King, maintain the good opinion of our alliances, and take over their kingdom while its rulers’ blood is still wet on the marble floors.”

Snap.

Angel confronted him the night before the banquette, during a minor ball before the engagement. She approached hastily, he smiled at her, his eyes sparkling with humor. He opened his mouth, ready to share what was so funny.

Angel hated herself for slapping the smile off his face. Her hand stung; she had prepared for this all day. “How dare you sleep with Carmen Jaxon! I deserve much better than cheating scum! I should have known. You’re only human after all.” Angel clenched her jaw, refusing to look at him. “You should leave, and never come back.”

King gave Angel an incredulous look, his hand flying to his face, a gasp escaping him. “Y- you’re not making any sense!” Angel turned to leave; he grasped her arm to halt her. He looked into her watered eyes; her gaze unable to meet his. “What is going on!?”

Angel jerked out of his grip, “Just Leave! The engagement is off! I don’t want you here, I’m not going to marry you. I’m disgusted by proceeding any further.”

Truth.

He had departed that night; his parents were to follow tomorrow.

Snap.

Angel watching as King's parents were cut down where they stood.

Snap.

Angel battling on the front lines.

Snap.

Angel screaming at the crack of a whip.

Snap.

Long days in prison.

Snap.

Alexa opening Angel’s cage in the dead of night,

“Hurry, hurry!” She beckoned Angel. “You must warn King!” They were running through the battlefield, praying they wouldn’t be caught and cut down where they stood, not even a crown princess could escape the queen’s justice.

“Mother is going to wage war through the deadly pass in two weeks' time.”

“She figured out the spell?!” The quickest path between the angelic kingdom and King’s kingdom was through the deadly pass, if you could avoid the thunderstorms, hurricanes, and whirlpools. Everyone who sailed in, had to fly out and many had drowned due to the long distance back.

A worried look filled Alexa’s eyes as she spoke, “yes.”

They were outside when Angel stopped them behind a tent, hidden in the darkness of night. “I have only ever stayed to protect you. The queen will know you freed me; she’ll kill you if I leave. What are you planning?”

Alexa teared up, “I have people, we’ll gather intel, and if the opportunity presents itself, we’ll throw a coup.”

Alexa pulled her in for a fierce hug, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Angel cried into Alex’s shoulder, “be safe.” Angel pulled back, grasping Alexa’s shoulder in a reassuring grip, “You’ve grown so much, your dad would be proud.”

Tears spilled over Alexa’s eyes, “Leave, while you still have a chance.”

SNAP.

King stumbled backwards shocked, the battle to come would be gruesome, and he was weeks behind. Angel passed out, falling forwards. King Henry dropped his knife and caught her. “I’m sorry,” he said ashamed now of how he acted, “and thank you.”

#56788765 #Short Stories #This is something that I've edited a couple of times #I really enjoyed writing it #Kings and Angels #Angels and War #original work #original content #Content Warning #Themes of abuse #death #betrayal #Mine

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circe-poetica · 4 years

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Mercury trines Chiron today 9/8/20

This quality of time will help you to develop a deeper understanding of those psychological areas that are connected with the experience of pain, suffering and rejection. This influence is especially well suited to so deepening the understanding of these interrelations that the first inklings of how to carry out a healing can be perceived. During this phase it is important to talk to other people who are interested in this theme. This time is well suited to penetrating the complicated connections and dependencies between human behavior, the psyche and early injuries – to differentiate between cause and effect -, whether for yourself or for someone who has confided in you.

Mercury trines Chiron Your communication skills are at peak performance today. You can masterfully clarify your haziest thoughts. Express yourself; what seems obvious to you can be a revelation for someone else.

Mercury trine or sextile Chiron You find it easy to understand and communicate spiritual realities and experiences outside of linear time, as well as holistic healing concepts and the mind/body connection. Your mind is a very effective tool for self-healing, and as you use it to advantage for yourself, you discover keys that you can communicate and share with others.

CHIRON IN ASPECT TO MERCURY

Chiron in aspect to Mercury balances right and left brain perceptual skill and quickens the deeper levels of the mind. This native has potentially great intuitive skills if he or she can begin to trust the thought processes, and this native can read minds easily. He or she knows what to say and how to respond to people without knowing much about them and therefore can become an adept at communication skills. The Virgo rulership of Chiron is very stabilizing to the thought processes, and this native has the potential to be very precise and still be intuitive at the same time. Chiron trine Mercury brings in powerful occult and healing skills. These natives are naturally in tune with the ancient times, and they remember the old healing skills whether they ever actualize them or not; these natives are wise old souls. If they do not discipline

themselves and actuate the trine, they will only remain very much in tune with ancient cultures and healing arts and no more. This intuitive knowing will be a source of pleasure for them. These natives love books about Atlantis and Egypt, for example. If they actuate the trine by disciplining them-selves as healers, and occultists, then great skills will manifest with training. Chart 29 is an interesting case with Chiron at the top of a T-square, the opposition between the Moon in the eighth and Jupiter in the second, with Chiron forming the trine with Mercury quincunxing the Moon. He has done well financially, but he came to me shortly after Uranus opposite Uranus because he felt depressed and empty, and his life was meaningless. Due to the power of Chiron in the fifth in Cancer at the top of the T-square, and Pluto retrograde in Leo in the sixth house of healing, I felt he needed to be initiated into one of the healing orders. The appropriate one was Weighing the Heart of the Soul, and now he is a wonderful AIDS counselor, helping suffering gays who are dying. His whole life has meaning now. Mercury/Chiron Aspects Pain associated with speaking, writing or other forms of communication. Extreme sensitivity to communication – what people say, how they say it and when they say it. Words most definitely can hurt you. Learning how to use voice, thoughts and language for healing purposes. Feeling pain from not having your voice heard. Using words and language to heal yourself. Using storytelling as a way to heal yourself and others. The journey of getting in touch with your unique voice. Learning to open up and talk about your problems. The need to talk about your “pain point.” Talking is painful. Expressing your thoughts through words is painful. Guiding others with your words and thoughts. Playing with language. Tricksters. Court jesters. Deliverers of messages that others may not want to hear. You act as an antidote to self-importance – your own and others’. Puncturing egos with words. Facility with non-rational logic. Maverick communications. Sticking your foot in your mouth. The ability to embrace paradox. The ability to synthesize conflicting information and perceptions. The ability to reconcile opposites. No need to choose either/or. He (Mercury) loves to see pride come before a fall, and is a natural antidote to the self-importance, pretensions and inflations encountered in the quest for consciousness and integration. The more we endeavor to reach our highest, to become godlike, to actualize our potential, the more this figure constellates quietly underneath ready to trip us up at any point should we dare to forget the chaotic origins of our hard-won sense of order, personal integration and consciousness. ~ Melanie Reinhart, Chiron and the Healing Journey Siblings with disabilities or illness. The need to heal relationships with siblings. Pain associated with siblings. Feeling wounded by a sibling. Pain experienced by being the brother or sister of someone else. Flawed education. Feeling that your education was missing something. Needing more non-rational learning opportunities. Synthesizing all information in a learning environment. The ability to present information in a variety of formats. Seeing no conflict in differing learning styles. Letting your way of learning take you on a journey. Embarking on a self-healing journey through words and language. Telling a story of pain. A healing journey through information and learning. Embracing a self-informed learning style. Self-taught. Taking responsibility for your own education. Creating the information that you need. Realizing that there are gaps in the available information, or in the way it is presented. Taking it upon yourself to fill in gaps in learning and education. Searching for the missing links and connections to make information come together. A sudden epiphany – and then you get it. It is the most delightful thing that ever happens to me, when I hear something coming out of my guitar and out of my mouth that wasn’t there before. James Taylor I believe musicians have a duty, a responsibility to reach out, to share your love or pain with others. James Taylor Synchronized timing with remarks and jokes. Saying the right thing at the right time. Saying the exact wrong thing at the wrong time. Subtle communication powers. The ability to pay attention to information that others miss. Learning by tripping yourself up. Having a knack for sticking your foot in your mouth. Being forced to think differently about the affairs of Mercury and Chiron’s house. Non-verbal assimilation of information. Knowing that a piece of the puzzle is missing. The ability to find a loophole in any logical thought pattern. The ability to learn through multiple channels. The way you think is somehow flawed according to convention. Your mental processes are not “normal.” You have the ability to open doorways of thinking that others would never have considered. You have unique perception. You have a way of putting information together that is wholly your own. You find opportunities in misses and near misses. It makes me believe in fate. In most cases, the readings where I’ve been really bad have usually been the ones where I got the part. Robin Wright Penn The fragmented mind. Sectioning and compartmentalizing experience and perceptions. Lack of awareness of the greater whole. Learning to heal your fragmented perception of the world. Learning to bring all of your thoughts together. Bringing your various learning experiences together into a cohesive whole. Creating new learning disciplines and paradigms. Reclaiming missing memories. Extreme nervous energy and over-sensitivity to what people say. Inability to get over upsetting thoughts and concepts. The key to healing is reconciling your differing perceptions. The key to healing is reclaiming missing and fragmented observations, memories and connections. The key to healing is talking about what gives you pain. The key to healing is finding an outlet for nervous mental energy. The key to healing is learning how to relax your mind. The key to healing is resisting the urge to cut off from unwanted observations and thoughts. The key to healing is to recognizing and accepting all of your thoughts as part you. The key to healing is practicing mindfulness. Share this:

#mercury chiron #aspects #mercury #chiron #current astrology #9/8/2020 #mercury trine chiron

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jaehyun-eclipsed · 4 years

Text

Before I Met You | Six

Updates: Sundays, 8 PM EST

Pairing: NCT (Jaehyun, Lucas…) X Reader/OC

Genre: Romance, Angst, Coming of Age

Summary: Four. There were four people before I fell in love with you… Here are their stories.

Warnings: Contains some swearing

Before I Met You Masterlist

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After several weeks of constant stress and endless studying, high school was finally coming to an end. I was never one to take many photos, but I knew there were people that I’d likely never see again. So on the last day of class, I decided to ask some of them to take a picture. My first and only class with Lucas was biology.

“Hey,” I say to Lucas, Seulgi, and Yang Yang. “Take a picture with me.”

“Okay!” Lucas responds.

“Oh, so you’ll take a picture for Y/N but not for me?” Seulgi snaps.

Oh shit.

Lucas doesn’t say anything, but I decide to put my foot in my mouth. “I’m just special,” I say with a smile.

Seulgi doesn’t respond, her face attempting to smile in order to hide the bitterness she actually felt.

Oh my God, Y/N. You’re such an idiot.

“Let’s take the picture!” Lucas says. “Yang Yang, you take it!”

Graduation came and went. It was weird. It hadn’t really hit me yet that I had graduated from high school. The ceremony was rather uneventful. Doyoung, Taeyeon, Hyojin, Hana, and I were all being honored as part of the top twenty in our class. This meant that we were set to walk the stage first and then after that, we sat in the audience, glancing back at the crowd every so often to see how many more rows of students had to walk. Quite honestly, we were bored.

The ceremonial cap tossing was followed by many hugs, selfies, and promises to hang out during the summer before truly needing to say goodbye to those who would be leaving for college. For a moment, it felt like time stopped. Bright lights shone down on everyone, providing a spotlight as if it was our last moment on stage.

“Y/N! We’re done!” Lucas shouts as he runs towards me, picking me up and spinning me around as confetti falls around us.

“Congratulations, Lucas!”

His eyes are sparkling when he sets me down, his hands still holding onto my arms. We smile at each other for a moment before he realizes he’s still holding me.

“Oh!” he remarks, dropping his hands and nervously rubbing one of them behind his neck. “Good luck at Berkeley, Y/N. Make sure you come back and visit.”

“Thank you, I definitely will.”

“Maybe we can hang out this summer?”

My heart jumps at the suggestion and the naïve thought of a first date and first kiss during my last summer before college. The fantasy was a heartbreaking cliché with the word ‘BAD’ written all over it in capital letters. There was something so appealing about it. The summer fling with the boy from high school; falling in love too fast after a passionate kiss at the beach; an emotional goodbye and shattering heartbreak as one had to leave because real life got in the way. This kind of situation never ends well. It’s indulging in the forbidden fruit only to realize it was poisoned from the very beginning.

“Yeah.” I smile. “I’d like that.”

I was quick to learn of Lucas’s new job at a clothing store at the mall. He was notorious for posting every little thing he did on social media and had a poor habit of posting on Snapchat while he was driving. It made it easy to figure out where he was all the time. Plus, the store he worked at was a place I often shopped at already.

“When did you start working here?”

Lucas folds a shirt, placing it on the shelf before turning around to face me. “Right after school got out. I like the clothes here.”

“Yeah, I do too.”

“If you want anything, just let me know. They give me forty percent off everything except clearance,” he says. “I’ll buy it for you and you can pay me back. Like, I just bought a bunch of jewelry for Sooyoung.”

Well that’s nice of him.

“Thanks!” I hold up a beige scarf. “I think I’m going to buy this, but it’s on clearance.”

He smiles. “It looks nice. Let me know when you’re ready to check out!”

“Oh, I’m ready now. This is all I’m getting today.”

He nods and leads me over to the cash register. I hand him the scarf and he begins to palm through it to look for any security tags.

“Hey, so we should hang out.” He keeps his gaze on the scarf. “Maybe grab lunch or something?”

The temptation to take a bite into the fruit returns. Yes, we were just getting lunch, but it was still something. He wants to hang out one-on-one. Who says this can’t turn into something more after that?

“Yeah! That would be great!” I say with a wide grin.

He taps several keys on the register before telling me to swipe my card. “Okay, you can just text me and we’ll hang out!”

An alarm sounds off in my head. It’s brief, but nevertheless, it’s still there. Why do I have to text you if you want to go? Maybe this is an open-ended thing so that I can ask him if I actually want to go and it’s not a full blown rejection if he asks and I say ‘no’.

I force a smile before my perplexed feeling can be expressed on my face. “Okay… Maybe next week because I’m supposed to go to orientation for school this weekend.”

“Yeah! That sounds good!”

I look up at the clock tower as my orientation group walks by. Wouldn’t it be nice for Lucas to come visit me and we could take walks around campus? The sun is about to set, glowing a blazing gold and orange over the horizon. A new beginning. This is where I’m going to spend the next four years of my life, supposedly making new friends and memories to last a lifetime.

“It’s going to be completely different.”

“You’re going to have so much fun.”

“You’re going to meet so many smart and interesting people!”

“You’re going to meet someone much better than Lucas.”

“You’re going to love it!”

This was the collage of phrases I’d heard over the past few months since I had chosen a school. I had good faith it would be true. I liked the people I had met in my orientation group; we all had the same goal and everyone was relatively nice with the exception of one of my roommates for the night. She was tall and blonde and seemed to be rather arrogant. From the way she looked at me, I took it that she just thought I was a typical nerd. Fortunately, I didn’t have to spend much time with her since she wasn’t in my orientation group. If I wasn’t with my group, I was exploring on my own.

“Hey! Let’s all take a picture on the steps!”

But being here… actually being here… terrified me to no end. Aside from coming here to tour the campus and make some initial contacts, we were supposed to meet with college counselors and select our first semester classes.

I discovered that selecting the classes you needed to take wasn’t even the hard part; it was signing up for the classes that was a challenge. My orientation date was in the middle, so by the time I was able to sign up, the sections I had wanted were already full.

I felt like I didn’t know what I was doing. Prior to arriving, we were instructed to fill out a questionnaire to determine what classes we would need to take for our intended majors. You didn’t have to declare a major until sophomore year, but you at least had to start working towards it so that you could graduate on time. It’s a terrible system. At eighteen, you’re expected to have an idea of what you supposedly want to commit to for the rest of your life. The system even lets you determine that you’re responsible enough to make a decision that can cost hundreds of thousands of dollars.

And now, even while taking a commemorative photo with the sun suggesting a brighter future, all I wanted to do was cry. I’m not ready for college. I’m not ready to leave home. I’m just not ready. And suddenly, I’m left wondering if this whole time, my perceived independence and confidence, was just me pretending…

After returning from orientation, I was trying to find ways to distract myself from my inevitable future that I wasn’t ready for. I had made attempts to find things I enjoyed as I realized this may be the only summer for the next several years that would be completely free of responsibility. No summer homework, no internship – I was free to be self-indulgent. So I spent a lot of my time doing things I didn’t allow myself to have time for while in high school. I’d read, watch movies, and take walks at the mall. I’d even go to parties held by my former high school classmates. But of course, I also spent a lot of that time thinking about Lucas.

Maybe I’ll ask him today. It’s been a week since I’ve seen him… That seems like enough time.

Me to Lucas [4:15 PM] Hey! You busy tomorrow? Wanna get lunch?

I place my phone down, twiddling with my thumbs and waiting for my phone screen to light up.

He’s definitely going to want to go. And then we’ll get to have lunch and maybe we can hang out some more before I have to leave! And maybe… just maybe, he’ll tell me he likes me!

I smile at the thought. It’s a last hurrah before having to leave everything. I’d get my happy, sad summer ending.

But of course, that thought quickly drifts out of reach again as time creeps by. Fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, an hour…

It was my birthday and biology all over again. When Hana invited him to go to my birthday dinner, he took hours to respond, never directly saying he couldn’t come, just that he was preoccupied. He did the same thing with our biology project, never directly saying he hadn’t finished it, just that he was busy with something else that apparently took precedent.

Lucas [5:45 PM] I have work tomorrow

I roll my eyes. He’s lying again. And you just had so much hope that you would get your chance even though you knew. I only had one word for him.

Me [6:00 PM] Okay.

This is a pattern.

This is a trait.

And I was dumb enough to fall for it three times.

Later that night, while festering in my annoyance, I receive a text from Siwoo.

Siwoo [8:09 PM] I overheard Lucas talking about you

My eyes widen. Lucas was talking about me?

Me [8:15 PM] What? Where?

Siwoo [8:17 PM] At the mall. Sicheng and Yang Yang were waiting for him to get off work and I was in the store looking at something

Me [8:18 PM] What did they say?

Siwoo [8:21 PM] Sicheng asked Lucas if he was still thinking about asking you out and Lucas didn’t say anything. So Sicheng guessed that Lucas already did and Lucas was like “I asked her to get lunch but I have to work tomorrow.” Then Sicheng was like “I thought you said you didn’t have to go to work tomorrow? You should just go with Y/N. Who cares about Seulgi?”

Wow, so he was lying. And he has absolutely no idea that I have people looking out for me to give me confirmation about these things.

It definitely pays to have friends in all circles. I can have eyes everywhere.

Me [8:22 PM] So he was lying! Wtf. What does Seulgi have to do with this?

Me [8:23 PM] What did they say after that?

Siwoo [8:24 PM] Lying? About what?

Me [8:26 PM] I asked him to get lunch tomorrow and he just said he had to work. No rescheduling, no nothing

Siwoo [8:27 PM] Jackass. I guess Seulgi doesn’t want Lucas dating you

Siwoo [8:29 PM] Yang Yang said that Seulgi would get really pissed and then asked if he really wanted to go. Lucas said he did but also was afraid because Seulgi would get mad because she’s jealous of you and he’s been friends with her longer

Seulgi… always getting in the way.

Me [8:32 PM] Jfc. She won’t date him and when he wants to go after someone else, she gets mad. What does she want??

Siwoo [8:34 PM] Idk... that’s all I heard

One of my favorite things to do is have late night chats. There’s something so intoxicating about the night – it brings out honesty despite its purpose of making everything dark… hidden… mysterious. The comfort of the night allows us to reveal our deepest secrets in confidence. It gives a false sense of safety. You trade your ability to hide your body language, thinking that’s what you need to keep secret when voluntarily speaking words you’d thought you’d never say aloud.

The night is an oxymoron.

Yet, it is when I thrive. My best thinking is done at night. My best conversations occur at night.

I had a habit of keeping my dad up at late hours into the night, pitching my ideas, revealing my thoughts, running through an endless list of scenarios. I could’ve chosen any other time of day to do this, but night was always my preferred time. That’s when I was the best at being honest to myself about Lucas. There were fewer distractions and I could kick more sense into myself when the temptation was unusually strong.

“How come he said he wanted to hang out and then when I ask him, he lies and says he has to work?” I ask angrily, pacing in my dad’s room.

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s scared,” my dad responds. “But you know, he appears to have a habit of doing this.”

“So he’s just flakey,” I say, making more of a statement than asking a question.

“Yes.”

“He didn’t even say ‘no’! He just said he had to work and didn’t say anything about rescheduling.” I frown. “Does that mean he doesn’t actually want to go?”

“You mentioned earlier that Siwoo overheard him talking about Seulgi?”

“Yeah?”

“I do think Seulgi is jealous of you.”

I stop pacing and huff, putting my hands on my hips. “That’s ridiculous! She has all of these guys all over her! She gets way more attention than I do! Why would she ever be jealous of me?!”

“People don’t like it when others do better than they do,” he says. “I’m sure she thinks you’re a lot smarter than her. And even if she doesn’t think you’re prettier than she is, she can’t deny that you’re not attractive.”

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I contemplate what he tells me. It is possible, but I can’t imagine anyone feeling that way about me. I’m the quiet one that no one pays attention to except when they want answers on their homework. That’s not entirely true, but I honestly thought that no one really cared about what I did. I just did my schoolwork and minded my own business. The most people would ever really talk to me about was college. Long story short, my conclusion was that everyone thought I was boring. Granted, Siwoo did mention all of those other comments from Ara and Yunji. I guess I had more confirmation of some of these statements than I would have liked to admit or was able to believe.

“So if I go to the mall and see him again, he’s probably going to bring up hanging out again.” My face sours, disgusted at how easily Lucas could say things he doesn’t mean over and over again. “What should I say to him?”

“What you should do, is next time you see him, make him pick the time and date. Just tell him, ‘If you’re so busy, then why don’t you pick the time and the date? Then let me know.’ Flip it back onto him.”

Even though I knew any attempts to hang out with Lucas were probably nonexistent – and definitely nonexistent if I flipped the decision back onto him – I didn’t want to give up like that. But the rational part of me knew this would be the best thing to do. Summer was more than half gone already. What could we possibly do in that time even if we did hang out once or twice? I was onto bigger and better things with completely different people. Who cares about some idiot from high school?

This shirt looks nice. I pull the hanger from the rack, admiring the red, sleeveless blouse. It would be nicely paired with some blue denim shorts.

“Hey!”

When I hear Lucas’s voice, something kicks in… likely my rationality because suddenly, I’m angry.

I glance over my shoulder, seeing him leaning against a wall next to me. “Hey.”

“So school starts soon, huh?”

I continue admiring the blouse, holding it up to my body to estimate the fit. “Yeah, I’m leaving in a few weeks.”

“Oh! We should hang out before then!”

Here we go…

I internally roll my eyes, completely exasperated as I had mentally prepared myself for this moment. I was not going to give in again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times, I’m an idiot. Fool me four times? Yeah, not going to happen.

“I think you tried to hit me up, right?” he continues, crossing one foot over the other and pulling his phone out. “But I think I was busy that week.”

Yeah, you were “working”.

“Yeah, well, since you’re so busy,” I say. “How about you decide?” I cross my arms. “Pick the date, pick the time, let me know.”

He keeps his gaze on his phone, scrolling with his thumb, probably pretending to filter through his “completely booked” calendar.

“Okay,” he agrees. “So just text you?”

I can feel the sharpness of my tongue as I respond, “Yep.”

“When are you leaving?”

“On the fifteenth.”

He smiles at me, uncrossing his legs and placing his phone back in his pocket. “All right, well, my shift is over so I’ll hit you up later.”

Right… I’m sure you will.

A couple days later, I opted to go to a coffee shop that my high school classmates would frequent after class. I had brought a book along with me and was going to spend the next hour or so reading while sipping on a lavender latte before going to meet Hana for dinner.

“Y/N?”

I lift my head from my book and turn in the direction of the voice.

“Oh, hey Sicheng!”

Sicheng and I weren’t really friends, but we could always have conversations. We were acquaintances at best, but he was best friends with Lucas and Kibum. And all throughout high school, he was always kind and respectful towards me. Despite him becoming ‘one of the guys’ when he was around his friends, he was one of the nicer ones of the group and he knew how to flip off that switch when he would talk to anyone else outside of his posse.

He smiles at me and walks over to my table. “Just reading?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d get a lavender latte before meeting Hana for dinner.”

“Oh nice.”

I look at his hand that’s gripping onto the backpack slung over his shoulder. “Are you here to work on something?”

“Hm?” He follows my gaze to his backpack. “Oh, yeah, I have some scholarship essays I need to work on. When are you leaving for school?”

“In a couple weeks.”

“Congratulations, Y/N! That’s really exciting!”

“Thanks! I’m excited… though, I’m quite nervous too.”

“Yeah, I bet…” he trails off.

He looks down at my book, continuing to linger at my table. His mouth opens slightly and he smiles, like he’s contemplating on saying something. I raise an eyebrow up at him, silently asking what’s on his mind.

Suddenly, he says something that’s somewhat out of left field. “Hey, do you talk to Lucas?”

My eyes narrow. “I see him at the mall sometimes,” I say. “I buy a lot of my clothes at the store he works at. Why?”

“Oh, uh, I was just wondering if you guys hang out…”

What are you fishing for?

“Did he say something?”

“No… no, not really.” Sicheng presses his lips together. “Did he ask you out?”

Well that was forward.

I swallow and narrow my eyes again, wondering what on earth Sicheng could be getting at. “Like, on a date?”

“Yeah.”

“No, he did ask me to hang out though…” I shake my head, trying to dismiss all of the fluff. Sicheng just needs to get to the point. “Why are you asking?”

He sighs in frustration. “Okay, to tell you the truth, he likes you.”

I raise an eyebrow, questioning both the truth of the statement and his reasons for telling me. “Really…” I say skeptically. “It doesn’t seem like it.”

“He wants to go out with you, Y/N.”

“What?” I ask, incredulity lacing my tone. “I – I don’t understand. Why are you even telling me this?”

He clicks his tongue. “Look, I –” He sighs again, shifting his gaze to a far corner of the room before turning to look back at me. “Lucas is my best friend and I’m just tryin’ to help him out because – as much as I like Seulgi, she’s being a bitch.”

Of all the things for Sicheng to do, I never thought he would do this. He’s always been nice, but why would he ever confess that Lucas likes me? Why would he out his best friend?

My expression is perplexed, confused at his confession. I don’t say anything and let him continue.

“She knows Lucas likes you, but she doesn’t even like, want him to talk to you.” His face turns sour. “So, I’m just – I’m just seeing how you feel because he’s my friend and Seulgi’s just being…” he trails off, waving his hand in dismissal.

I shrug, making a gesture with my hands to express frustration. At this point, telling him the truth doesn’t really seem to make any difference. “Well, I’d go out with him if he asked, but –”

“Yeah, I know…” he interjects, offering me a small smile. “I know you’re leaving soon, but I don’t know… I just thought I’d see what’s up with you and try to help Lucas out before then.”

This was a strange revelation. I never expected Sicheng to do this. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel all giddy inside having confirmation that Lucas did like me. Unfortunately, my opinion of Seulgi had deteriorated even further and gave me confirmation that what she did at Winter Ball was, in fact, on purpose. She couldn’t stand having a different girl having (in her eyes, steal) Lucas’s attention. That was too great of a hit to her ego. On the other hand, all this told me was that Lucas had little to no backbone. He was easily influenced by someone that wasn’t good for him and would never fully return his affections. Yet, he couldn’t stand not having her in his life even if all she would end up doing is crushing him. I guess we both have something else in common – at least for the next few weeks.

I was a fool. The temptation to bite into the forbidden fruit was too great and the truth of the matter was that I didn’t even get to bite into it. It was always within reach, on a branch that was just a smidge too high. But then a gust of wind blew and the fruit fell and hit me in the head.

Lucas never did text me.

And I never heard from him after that.

Perhaps the first dance really was the last.

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Before I Met You Masterlist Masterlist

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #wayv #cznnet #jung jaehyun #nct jaehyun #nct lucas #lucas wong #wong yukhei #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct angst #before i met you

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teacherimagines · 4 years

Text

My Tc Diary

Hey y’all. This is my tc diary from 2018 and I decided to post this now in 2020 since I don’t think my identity will be revealed from anyone I know possibly reading this. It was sooooo weird rereading this, seeing what my thought process used to be, and the silly things I thought were important. So much has changed in my life since this phase of my life, but I hope you enjoy!

M/N stands for my name. I am not gender specific in the anecdotes. I am bisexual, and I talk about having three different tcs in here. I just use they/them to talk about them. And when I refer to ‘my tc’ I am talking about my first tc (the one I am crushing on the most). The other two I only talk about in one divided section for each.

*ONE FINAL VERY IMPORTANT NOTE* My teacher crushes were always professional when I was around them, they did absolutely nothing to suggest that they liked me as anything more than just a student. I started writing this because I was crushing on them badly, and I needed a way that I could share the times I was around them that made me happy. I hold a very high respect for my teachers, and I am so grateful that I got to have them in class. I never did/would never try to do anything that would harm/intrude on their careers, relationships, happiness, and personal lives. My relationships with teachers are the way they should be, the fact that I was crushing on them did not get in the way of that.

My Masterlist

I was walking out of school today, and my tc was walking behind me. I heard footsteps but I didn’t know it was them! Anyway I walked out the door, and held the door for them, and they thanked me. Their ‘thank you’ sounded so genuine and nice, I nearly had a heart attack.

I had my first class with my tc at the beginning of the semester. During the first week of class my tc had to shout out names for attendance because they didn’t know everyone yet. But they knew me. They never said my name during attendance. It just felt good, to have them remember me after meeting them only a couple of times before. Especially because I’m crushing on them super hard.

My tc got really excited today in class omg. We are doing a project and we get to pick our topics. So my tc comes up to me like “What is your topic?” And then I told them, my tc got so excited. Their eyes widened a little, and they went into this little rant about how fascinating my topic was. I like to see them being so passionate about something.

Someone in my class has a pet snail, and they keep it in a jar and bring it to school. So they go and ask my tc if they want to hold the snail. My tc (seriously) asks ‘does it bite?’ I WAS LIKE ARE YOU FOR REAL RN? I think it was cute because it was such a little snail.

My tc helped me write an essay today. They were super helpful, like, I was stuggling so bad, and they just helped me without making me feel like a complete idiot :)

OKAY IM SORRY OKAY TEMPTATIONS. I watched my tc put on chapstick today. Trust me, I wouldn’t watch it if they were looking directly at me. They were just staring off into space. *Note from future, I watch them do this quite often lol.

My tc said “good morning, M/N.” today! I said good morning back and was really happy. My tc also made a lot of eye contact with me today :o

I walk into my classroom today, and there were only two other students sitting at the desks. The class has about twenty students in it, and the bell was about to ring. One of the people in the room says “ooh, there’s a third one.” as I walk in. And my tc laughed and smiled and looked at me.

My tc was passing back papers and their arm accidentally bumped mine. Lol I’m dying inside.

When my tc lectures, they are very active with and linger their eye contact with every student. And I mean like that’s a good thing, but it makes me nervous when they look at me lol. OKAY BUT LIKE EYE CONTACT IS NOT OKAY. It is okay. But it makes me not okay. Especially when I’m trying to concentrate on the lesson, I just keep thinking back to five minutes ago when their eyes met mine and I felt all gooey in my tummy.

Got a paper back and on the top it said ‘good work M/N!’ in my tc’s handwriting. Felt good lol. I literally stared at my name written in their handwriting for like ten minutes. I need to stop. *not from future- I kept ALL of the papers from their class.

My tc will always ask the class something opinionated, and they will always make sure that everyone answers the question. And if it is regarding something that has to do with us being comfortable (ex: someone making a joke that is slightly controversial), they just make sure that everyone is really okay, no bs. OMG I FOUND A TEACHER WHO ACTUALLY CARES ABOUT THEIR STUDENTS WELL BEINGS. And I may or may not have a massively obvious crush on them.

I saw someone (a student) flirting with my tc today. This person is a MAJOR flirt. I know that they would never actually date my tc so I am not really worried about it. But they interrupt class a lot and flirt with them. IT IS SO OBVIOUS OMG.

I was walking in the hall today, and I saw my tc. They looked at me really quickly but as they walked closer they just stared at the floor lol. They do that a lot. Also, on another day, I was standing in the hall talking with my friend and my tc walked passed us. I know they looked at me- even if it was only for a second- I could feel it.

How can someone be so alert, friendly, and attractive at the beginning of the school day?

Today I was sitting doing my work and my tc comes over to my desk. They ask me how I am doing on the assignment and I said I’m doing okay. They stand by my desk, looking at my paper for what felt like a minute. I felt so awkward so I looked up at them with a face that said ‘need something’? Then they nodded and walked away. Like okayyyyyyy I’m not okay.

Every damn time I say ‘thank you’ to my tc they say ‘of course ‘my name.’ AND I AM LITERALLY MELTING RN MELTING

My tc learned a few fun facts about me today! Also, almost no one in my class believes in sasquatches (even me), but my tc does. And they got so frustrated because they said that sasquatches are ‘tangible’. Plus, they asked me where I see myself in ten years and I said I have no clue, and they were like ‘okay so you have like what, two years left to figure the rest of your life out?’ THANKS TC THANKS A LOT

My tc asked me if I had anything to share with the class today, and I said no lol. They asked another student and they said no too. Lol. Then my tc said ‘I shouldn’t let you all say no to me.’ Haha I’m dead.

I saw my tc with their significant other today. I feel really sad, and I really do care about my tc’s happiness, it just makes me sad that I can’t be that kind of special to them.

I saw my tc run today. I feel so blessed.

My tc said I did really good on writing my essays, and thanked me for handing them in. also—MY TC SMILED AT ME TODAY AND THEY ARE SO CUTE AND THEIR SMILE IS SO CUTE IMMMM DEADDDDD. Their smile was literally like this :)) They don’t usually smile at me, Idk why, but like I am also wondering what put them in such a good mood.

My tc gave me a letter today. At first I was like- woah?. Then they told me it was an invitation (from another teacher) for taking a AP course in their subject next school year. I was like ‘ah thank you’ but inside I was screeching (THE LETTER WASNT EVEN PERSONALLY FROM THEM WHY AM I FREAKING OUT??). Even though they won’t be teaching the course (they are moving schools), I want to make them remember me as someone who wants to excel in their subject (so I will take the course, plus I was planning on it already with my guidance counselor). Also, this means that they had a conversation with another teacher about me. So they probably thought of me recommended for me to take AP? This makes me happyyyy :)

So today my tc asked me if I read the letter they gave me. I said yes. They asked if I signed up for AP and I said yes. They got so happy omg- I was like trying to be chill (so were they). They said “that is so good ‘M/N’, you would make a really good fit in that class.” Then they kept smiling at me- I couldn’t concentrate! IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY THAT MY HARD WORK IS STARTING TO PAY OFF, AND MY TC IS RECOGNIZING THAT.

My tc gave my class a free work period and I was caught up on my work. Usually every night I try to read at least one news article before I go to bed, so I stay up to date on things (ya know, like nerds do). I didn’t get to read last night so I read some news in class. My tc comes over to see what I am doing and asks me “M/N, are you reading the news?” I nodded. Then they said “that is a very good use of your time.” Lol I wasn’t even doing the work they assigned. Then they come over later in class and ask me if I read from The Atlantic. I told them no, and they were like “I think you’d like them, they have very in depth articles. There’s this one a teacher showed me this morning about Donald Trump, and how he won the election, it was really good. You can let me know later if you’re interested in reading it.” I was like OKAY with a big splash of happiness. I want to read the article they suggested, but I was like hesitant to ask them for it, so I am just going to try and find it on my own lol. *NOTE from future, I read this website a lot now because it makes me think of them and it’s like, what if they read this article too?

MY TC SNEEZED TODAY AND I WAS LIKE AHHHH

I saw my tc in the hallway this morning and they said “good morning M/N.” They were carrying a cup of coffee, and that’s when I got to see how they drink their coffee-with a lot of creamer.

OKAY WHAT IS GOING ON? There’s this other teacher I have. My friend says she likes them. I thought I didn’t like them that much, and I expressed that to her. BUT THEN they start giving me this eye contact, and joking during class. And one day they try helping me on an assignment and LITERALLY THEIR ARM WAS TOUCHING MINE. I didn’t want to be rude and move it, and THEY JUST LEFT IT THERE. I have little physical contact with humans- I’m weird like that- I don’t usually like it when people touch me, there’s really no reason for it besides it is what it is. But I was fine in this situation. They also make a lot of conversation with me. Then I saw them in the library and they looked at me and smiled- they are gorgeous. I DONT KNOW WHAT TO THINK ABOUT LIFE ANYMORE. I thought I was only crushing on my original tc, but that’s changing now?¿ I think I take simple situations and go crazy with them, but STILL. So much more has happened between me and this teacher than me and my tc, but I still like my first tc more. ALSO, they bite their lip when they are concentrating on something difficult- I am swooning. *NOTE- I had a dream (rated R) about this teacher. WHATWHATWHAT? Today, I walked passed this tc and it LITERALLY felt like slow motion- and they kept eye contact with me as they walked by.

I’m hormonal. There’s this other tc I might have now. They are a different gender than my other two tcs. I like them a lot and I had them in a class before but I never thought of them like this. I realized that I have a lil crush on them today when I passed them in the hall and had some small talk. I thought wow, they’re a good person, they teach really good, they just talked to me like a normal person, and they’re attractive. MY BRAIN IS EXPLODING I HAVE LIKE THREE TCS NOW AND NO ONE IN MY LIFE KNOWS?

Today was my last day with my tc :(( it was kind of bittersweet though. They never really gave anyone a formal goodbye, but we did have a good conversation (which is the longest one I have ever had with them). I was on the computer doing a research project for a vacation to Italy. I was exploring around on google maps and they come over and ask me ‘where are you looking at?’ And I say Venice. So I zoom out and show them Italy from a map view, they talked about Italy, and just Europe in general. I then told them that I have been to Paris and London before, and they thought it was cool. Then they told me about their significant other who has traveled to London for a semester at college. Then they told me about their dream vacation to southern France, to see the lilac fields. They said ‘That would be my picturesque vacation.’ I WAS LIKE AWWWW (internally lol). I like flowers a lot, and I am pretty sure my tc knows that bc I wear clothes that have flower print, my backpack and pencil case is flower print too. And now that they told me that they like flowers too- I am just so happy! I have a lot in common with this tc, and it saddens me that this was our last interaction :((

#tc imagine #imagine #crush imagine #tc community #tcc #tcc imagine #teacher imagine #tcc blog #teacher crush #teacher crush imagine #imagines #crush

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movienotesbyzawmer · 4 years

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October 23: Friday The 13th - A New Beginning

(previous notes: Friday the 13th - The Final Chapter)

In case you're just joining us, I have committed myself to the task of watching each of the eight Friday the 13th movies that came out in the 80s, taking notes as I watch them, then posting those notes. I'm about to watch the fifth movie.

And hey, is it time to just recap the "story" so far? I mean… sure, I guess. It all started in 1958, when a little boy named Jason drowned at Camp Crystal Lake. Supposedly the camp counselors responsible for keeping an eye on him were distracted with their recreational boinking. That's how the story goes… however, what we see in 1958 is two camp counselors boinking and then getting murdered by someone with ostensibly no related drowning event. Anyway, Twenty years later Jason's mom stalks some camp counselors that are at that camp and kills them very violently. She gets beheaded before she can kill the last counselor, but then that counselor gets pulled into the water by ghoulboy Jason; she survives this only to be murdered by him in her house at a later date.

Meanwhile another facility down the shore from Camp Crystal Lake (and I might add that the actual eponymous lake doesn't appear to be any bigger than the apparel section of a Target) has some new counselor trainees on a retreat of some kind. Jason has quickly matured from a swampy child-monster to a hooded, but otherwise sharply-dressed psychopath who doesn't say anything. He kills everyone at this retreat except for one girl who seems to kind of get him. Also maybe her boyfriend survives, we never really get an answer on that, but she is familiarly hauled away by an ambulance and forgotten about. Jason keeps his killing spree going quite indiscriminately, but focusing on another group of young people that are hanging out at a nearby ranch. He kills everyone there, plus some other people he found, except for one girl who survives long enough to get pulled into the water by a ghoul that is probably a Jason's Mom Thing. We don't know what happens to her, but she definitely did not stay dry.

The hospital where that last batch of victims ended up got a little bit murdered up. Jason was in there because he was thought of as one of the victims somehow, maybe a deliberate playing-dead trick because he does like to do stuff like that. He heads back to the woodsy area around Crystal Lake and decides to pick on the residents of two area houses. He does lots of killings but a brother and sister from one of those houses stab him so many times that he just can't get up an murder them. But in the process of that, the brother might have caught some evil. Is this the final chapter. Will there be a new beginning. Soon the contents of Disc 5 will reveal all.

(I have not seen this movie btw)

It opens very differently from the others… someone on a raincoat is walking urgently through the woods during a nighttime storm. It's Corey Feldman! He approaches Jason's grave in the woods! Like totally a grave with a headstone that says Jason Voorhees. But also two hooligans were on their way to that grave; they want to dig Jason up! CF is hiding and watching that; the hooligans don't know about him. They want to see Jason's body, and when they succeed with that, it stabs them to death because Jason was buried with a bunch of his favorite weapons. Plus also wearing the hockey mask. He's about to kill CF when whoever was dreaming this dream wakes up in a van that appears to be for crazy people of some kind. I don't recognize anyone, but maybe the dreaming person is grown-up CF? Probably that. Not played by CF, though.

His name is Tommy. I think that was CF's character's name so yeah it's him. I wonder if he's still into video games. He's being delivered to an institute of mental health. A nice couple is in charge, a Nice Woman and a Nice Man who make it sound like it will be Nice there.

Tommy looks wistfully at a picture of his mom and sister. The sister survived the last movie ostensibly so what is the deal with her.

Reggie the Reckless is a character that introduces himself to Tommy quite confrontationally. He is only about 11 and he likes to scare people; he clearly thinks he's going to totally pwn Tommy with pranks, but Tommy is apparently still into monster masks so he responds in a horror-mask way that earns some cred with Reggie the Reckless.

We get a glimpse at the motley cast of teens and young adults that populates this youth mental facility slash work farm place… and then two old killjoys show up to scold everyone for being crazy. These two killjoy characters are the most broadly performed caricatures we've seen since the "you're all doomed" old guy. Their acting is the kind of acting you see at the Renaissance festival, except without the half-assed English accents.

One of the kids at the institute is just a well-meaning dork with chocolate smears on his face that everyone hates… one guy hates him so much that he murders him! With an axe! Chocolate Smear was trying to strike up a conversation with a man who was angrily chopping wood, and bothered him so much that he axes him right there in front of others and in broad daylight! This story I tell you, it is a veritable New Beginning.

New characters. Leather Jacket Assholes, are talking about the murder at the nuthouse. They are in the woods nearby and one of them goes to take a leak while the other tries to fix something wrong with the car. They both get some kind of killed! The first one, the killer shoves a lit flare in his mouth, and the other one gets his throat slashed while he's acting very cocky and charismatic in the front seat of the car. Lit flare death is better even though it looks very fake.

But now we're back at the workhouse institute place and they're all mournful because of that odd and traumatic axe murder. Someone tries to be playfully scary with a monster mask and Tommy flips out and beats him up! This is a drama about the dysfunctional relationships between the involuntary residents of a workhouse.

Ugh, now we're back on the Killjoy characters. They are extremely unpleasant to behold. I hope Jason really is still killing people and that he takes care of those two irritants.

New characters, a waitress at a café and a hot doggin' yuppie in a muscle car trying to impress her, It seems like it's always important in these movies to have loud asshole characters, but there are really a lot of them in this one. If it's because they think we want to see assholes get killed… they have a point.

Hot Dog was doing some coke lines in his car waiting for the waitress when he very abruptly, but not unpredictably got axed right in his bald spot! Then the waitress comes out to find him and gets axed in the sternum. Those two, and the leather jacket dudes, don't have any ostensible relationship to the workhouse kids, although the leather dudes mentioned hearing about the murder there. Are we supposed to suspect that Jason is following Tommy and killing randos in the area surrounding where he is?

So there's this couple, a frisky, playful couple that are, I think, residents at the mental health facility, but they smolder with the carefree lust of what can only be described as camp counselors. They sneak off into the woods to get naked and fool around! An old man is watching them! The old man gets knifed in the gut! Then the girl of the couple gets sheared to death while the guy is taking a break somewhere. But he returns to find what happened to her - we see that he sheared her right in the eyes, it's gross! Then he gets a very good death; the killer secures him to a tree with a leather strap, which he tightens and tightens and tightens with his makeshift branch-crank until his skull is crushed! This consistent ingenuity of homicide methodology can only come from the one, the only, the master, Jason Voorhees.

New character alert… I kind of like this part! So Reggie the Reckless is given a ride to visit his big brother at the trailer park where he lives. Reggie and Big Brother are really happy to see each other! They get along very, very well! Big Brother even offers Reggie an enchilada! We don't see the enchilada! They're in a van, not even a trailer, and the dialogue plainly tells us that Big Brother has an enchilada next to him that he makes available to Reggie! Reggie does not accept the proffered enchilada! It is funny that we do not see what the enchilada looks like! What does an enchilada in a van look like!

Meanwhile Tommy gets into big trouble because someone nearby with this movie's requisite asshole level notices him waiting around near the trailer park, and correctly surmises that he is from the nearby mental health facility. This asshole starts a fight and Tommy has incredible martial arts skills so he beats up the asshole. Why does he have those skills.

Big Brother had to go to the outhouse immediately for enchilada-related reasons after Reggie left. He and his girlfriend have a cute exchange while he's in there, and just when I think that I like it when this movie's assholes die and plus I also like Big Brother, he and the girlfriend get killed. Big Brother gets perforated with metal spikes that are shoved at him through the walls of the outhouse. I am disappoint. This is probably this series' version of the first ten minutes of Up.

Oh, so the Killjoy characters… one of them was the guy that Tommy beat up, and the other one is his mom. Yeah, they hate the mental health facility, so it make some sense that he would pick a fight with Tommy so rashly. He returns home on his motorcycle but he's so mad about getting beat up that he just rides around outside his house, raging loudly about getting thumped and demanding that his mom do something about it! But he gets beheaded by a knife that takes advantage of his perpetual motorcycle operation. Then a butcher knife comes through the window at his mom and she's dead, face down in some soup cauldron she'd been obsessing over.

A word about the character with the speech impediment. One of the workhouse kids stutters. Inclusion! He just had some awkward interactions with the couple of ladies in the house and then turned around and saw a raised butcher knife. No more stuttering guy.

I should mention, the glimpses we've gotten of the killer are very, very unrevealing. The movie is making sure we don't have enough information to conclude for sure that it is Jason, although sometimes Tommy has visions of Jason standing somewhere and looking at him.

Another character died that's in that house. A girl gets naked and goes to bed, sees the body of the stuttering guy that has been placed there to frighten her, and then gets macheted through the mattress.

Then another killing. This character who has been vividly characterized throughout as "girl who is only always ever listening to music that she is clearly super into so much that no one is able to talk to her", she's being like that in her room and the killer just goes in and stabs her in the gut.

Reggie and the Nice Woman find those last three bodies stacked on a bed, and they run away, but on their way out of the house, Jason, total actual Jason, bursts through a door at them! He has great posture and wears a clean jumpsuit. They run away into the nearby woods and see an old-fashioned station-wagon ambulance. They open a door of it and a body is in it! I don't recognize the victim but there have been a lot lately. But also look.. Jason! Nearby! They run away.

The two get separated and Nice Woman comes upon Nice Man spiked through the head into a tree, so very dead! I don't remember what we last saw of him.

She runs back to the main house, and the cook, who is Reggie's grandfather, is thrown through the window at her! He has been murdered! Murdered I tell you! She runs away.

Jason is slowly chasing her with his machete as she stumbles through the mud. He is about to kill her but then he is distracted by a tractor coming at him, operated by Reggie! Reggie actually runs him down with the tractor! It's actually a bulldozer. He bulldozed Jason!

He looks dead but then he grabs her leg. And then they run away.

A very exciting confrontation ensues in the nearby barn where they run. Jason slowly pursues them in there, and the woman comes at him with a chainsaw. They sort of swordfight but with chainsaw and machete.

Tommy, who has been we-don't-know-where, arrives and the dynamic changes because of the strange connection Jason and Tommy have. Or at least Tommy thinks they have a connection… Jason just walks up to him and slashes him with the machete.

Everyone moves up to the loft of the barn. Tommy looks very badly laid out, so between Reggie and the woman a big struggle happens. But it ends with Jason getting his hand chopped off by Tommy, and Jason falling onto the ground which has this odd grid of metal spikes that kill him just fine.

But! The mask comes off, and it isn't Jason! Isn't Jason at all! It's one of the men we've seen around, I forget who.

Oh, the next scene explains it all. It was "Roy". Roy was one of the cops, or paramedics (?), who responded to the weird axe murder of the Chocolate Smear kid. It turns out that he is the father of Chocolate Smear, and he did all the murders as a very unstable response to that. And The news clippings he was carrying out explain that he decided to make it look like a Jason murder spree.

The movie ends with Tommy having a dream about murdering the woman, waking up in a hospital room and having a Jason phantom vision, then looking at a hockey mask that is in a drawer of his hospital room's dresser! Then there is a quick final couple of shots that suggest that he has insanely put the hockey mask on and is gonna knife the woman when she enters the room to visit him. The credits roll as he's about to probably stab her.

So this was kind of hard to get through. I mean, they are all bad movies, and objectively it seems like number 4 was worse than this one. But I was less inclined than normal to fight through the disinterest. It's worth noting that they were clearly trying for some semblance of a "new beginning", and they even managed to make it that while also explaining how this is a continuation of the Jason story. And there was all the grisly death you could want, which is what we're here for in the first place. But none of the scares were good or memorable, and they're making no effort to one-up the earlier movies in terms of gore effects. And I really lost track of the characters. Except for the ones I hated.

(next: Friday the 13th Part VI - Jason Lives)

#friday the 13th

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