#write first two pages and the last two and then went ???? in the middle hopefully it makes sense

[trashbinbackyard]

in which my two faves interact

Navigating the streets of Nia Vasileos as a cat was easy. They were simply everywhere and generally nobody paid attention to them other than the occasional coo and scratch on the head. Walking the narrow alleyways and climbing the ladders to the rooftops were easy. Frankly the cat form offered a lot. Nia Vasileos was built on the bones of the old empire of Thani, not a place she was too familiar with even during the first age; she and Lucas preferred the wild lands of the south.

Maya was no stranger to the city, but every time she’s been here was undercover, either of darkness or an animal form. Lucien and Viessa had set up a base in the Pera district, a bunch of aristocrats and other rich people inhabited the area, and would not look kindly on her. On the hill at the very tip of the crescent that was the city, in their high homes they would look down upon the city, mere mud in their shoes.

It wasn’t so different from the grand cities of the first age. She never liked them, the great cities, too many people, too much noise. If she walked around without hiding herself, people would stare at her, the bright hair, out of place clothes and ears larger than those of an elf.

Her kind had gone all forgotten since the first age, and the feeling of loneliness during the second age was even more intense than it used to be. Sure she had Lucien and Viessa to turn to, but they had grown really close, and she felt like she was intruding more often than not. And then there was Dimos, who was more of a shadow than a man, and not great company. But she had a matter she needed Viessa’s aid on, so bothering her and Lucien it is.

She climbed a fire escape ladder to the very top of the house they lived in, dropping her cat form as she made it. Opening the latch on the skylight was much easier with opposable thumbs. It was very handy when she needed to get in unnoticed, in the middle of the night or when the Harrows were out doing their own thing. The house was theirs, but they had let her know she can come and go as she likes. Viessa had conjured up a whole room just for her so she could have her own spot and a place to keep most of her belongings when she doesn’t need them.

She opened the skylight just enough for her to slip through and drop herself on a stairway railing. Balancing on it she carefully let the skylight down so it wouldn’t break or make a noise. She stood on the railing and peeked down, still on the third floor, no new floors had appeared. She stayed still and listened for signs of anyone being home. No rustling of books or pens from Viessa’s library, no thumps or groans of Lucien working out. She did hear the pitter patter of the tressym that had invited itself to stay there.

With no one home, she hopped off the railing to the very first floor, gracefully breaking the fall with a roll. The metal clasps of her armor and the bag she carried with many trinkets inside jingled as she hit the marble floor. She took a step towards the hallway that led to her own room, where she could wait for either of the elves to come back. 

Seems like she wouldn’t need to wait long, as the hairs on her neck raised and she quickly took a step to the right.

A shimmering orange dagger made of pure energy flew past her ear as she narrowly dodged it. The blade was incorporeal in nature, and it disappeared from the air before hitting anything. A soulknife, not for cutting, but definitely for hurting.

“Sharp as always Maya”, she heard Lucien’s familiar voice behind her

“I wouldn’t have to be if you stopped chucking those things around”, she sneered, as she turned her head enough to meet his gaze. Still she couldn’t help but let the grin she was holding back appear on her face.

With a step backwards and fast high kick to the man’s chest, she made Lucien lose his balance, sending him stumbling down the hallway. It was all in good fun, they often smacked each other around. While Lucien was adept with most weapons he couldn’t keep up with Maya hand-to-hand.

“Oof, good one,” he breathed out as he reached out to the wall and steadied himself, “what brings you here this time?”

“Does it have to be something, as I remember it, you lot said I could come and go as I please. What if I’m just picking some stuff up and dropping some in return”, she shrugged her shoulders and resumed walking towards her room.

“Because you hate the city and wouldn’t venture here if you didn’t need something more specific.”

It was true. She would rather avoid the city if it was up to her. She’d be hibernating somewhere down south, away from the reach of mortals or immortals alike. But Lucas… or the being that once was Lucas needed her. Something about preventing some unfortunate soul from finding something of great value and great capacity for harm. She wasn’t sure where to look for it, so that’s where Viessa comes into the picture. She could get its location with even a vague description, or if she couldn’t, there was bound to be something in her library to point her to the right direction. It was their pact, they could call on her for aid and she could rely on them to help her out in turn.

“So what can we do?” Lucien continued as he followed her close behind, “Well what can I do, Viessa’s out for the whole day, she’ll be back gods know when”.

“Well, not much, I need Viessa. Unless you want to learn a completely new set of skills.” 

“You wound me.”

Maya pushed the door of her room open with her foot, hoisting her bag ready to dump all its contents to the floor. Her room looked like her, wild and messy. She had refused a bed in favor of a mattress on the floor where she could pile on pillows and blankets for a makeshift nest. Heavy earth toned curtains hung from the ceiling, giving the room some warmth and softness. The cabinet lining an entire wall was filled with little trinkets, bones, feathers, jewelry, anything she had found on her time away and found interesting enough to bring back here.

On the floor were rugs of woven fabrics and pelts, a couple stones and a spare set of armor she had left lying around. She turned her bag upside down and another batch of small curiosities dropped on the floor with a clatter. She gave the stuff a kick, enough to clear a path towards her bed. Being barefoot she would need to be careful stepping around, and she couldn’t be bothered to organize her haul just yet. But she did have something for Lucien. She picked up a small black bead from the pile.

“Last time I was here you said you had a necromancer getting a little too close to the truth of your nature, so I tracked them down and took care of it. They had a talisman they used to conjure undead to fight back, but I knew those things are better to destroy. But they also had this-” she presented the bead on the palm of her hand, “It somehow protected them, deflecting my blows until I managed to overpower them. Could be useful to you”.

“Well I won’t say no to that,” Luciens picked the bead from her hand and held it up to the window so the sun would shine through it. It was somewhat translucent, and inside was a cloud of dark smoke that swirled. Hollow obsidian, not rare by any means, and material very easily imbued with all sorts of magic. 

He continued: “Looks like a shadow pearl, I’ve heard of them. Can do much more than just protect when used to their full potential. This is a great find.”

“You can have it.”

He slipped the bead into his chest pocket and gave it a tap for good measure.

“I actually have something for you as well, came across it some weeks ago.”

“Oh?” She perked up, Lucien wasn’t often just handing things out without some ulterior motive.

He snapped his fingers and a dusty book appeared in his other hand. It wasn’t thick like most books she had seen lying around the place, the binding was loose and looked like it could unravel at any time. The pages were yellow and bent as the covers couldn’t press them neatly together. A layer of dirt on the front cover hid most of the text she recognised as Asayan, a language that hasn’t been spoken in many centuries.

She took the book from him and gave the cover a quick wipe to see the full title of the work. A brief history of the later Asayan kingdom. She carefully opened it, knowing full well these types of books were extremely fragile and they were more than likely to fall apart at the slightest mistouch.

She did a quick read of several pages and she flipped through it. Catching names and years and locations she recognized from her lived experience.

“This is about Ivor’s time.” She muttered quietly. Nayden’s son, considered to be the first king of the later half of Asaya’s existence. The book would make a mention of Nayden as well, and Ivor’s children, and their children, all whom she had met. Well, meet is a strong word for it, that would call for mutual recognition, she had seen them, was very familiar with them in fact. Aside from Ivor, none of them knew she even existed, never got to know she knew their ancestor. She was cast aside, from the people of her land and history itself.

“What is this supposed to mean? Remember the times you were nothing? Was part of nothing? When you were destined to be forever unknown to everyone around you?” She said in disbelief. The more she read, the more unwelcome feelings started to bubble in her chest. She was there for all of it, yet she was naught but a whisper in the wind.

She continued in a tone mocking him, as she grasped at the thought in her head: “Back when you were so special but no one could know of you. Back when you were just Lucas’ pup, abandoned by everyone else. Is that what you’re trying to tell me with this?”

He was perplexed by her sudden change in mood. He had thought the book would be something to reminisce over.

“You don’t like it?” He was genuinely trying to understand where she was coming from.

“I already know all this! I’ve lived it! I don’t need some text to remind me of all of it. I don’t want to know how insignificant I was, still am, to this world, where I’m supposed to be one of the most powerful beings out there that no one even knows of! What’s the point?!” her voice raised with every sentence.

She dropped the book on the floor and kicked it towards the door.

“I’ve already told you. We’re not meant to be remembered. Imagine the harm that could come our way if we were known. You’ve hunted down just as many bad and power hungry people who caught a whiff of some ancient power far beyond their understanding. We do it to protect them as well as ourselves.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t be remembered at all! They don’t need to know what we are to remember us!”

“Too many people are looking for threads to connect into wild theories already without us meddling in. It’s part of our duty to not let anyone know. What do you think would happen if people read about a pink haired girl of a race that no longer exists from different centuries? They would start connecting the dots really fast.”

It was his authoritative voice coming out. He’d had this conversation with everyone in their little group, Maya included. It was he who had come to the conclusion that in order to play their part, they needed to not make waves, not push anyone’s actions into a desirable direction. They could aid mortals in their quests, but never intervene should their choices backfire. It was like a game, they could cheer or comment from the sidelines, but the resolution is never theirs to choose. It was what Deanoh demanded of him. In order to play their parts, lest they become hunted for their power, is to stay hidden from the public, and that means no history would ever be written of them. They would be legends, folk stories, omens, but never anything concrete.

“I get my gesture is not what you wanted, but sometimes holding something physical from your life before can help you ground yourself,” he tried to explain.

“This is not what I came here for, an impromptu lecture on what we need to be or do. You and Viessa have each other, you do your thing as diligently as you want, coo about the things past as much as you want, because you got to experience it with someone you get to actually remember. I, on the other hand, will be somewhere far away, covered in a layer of dirt so I can forget this whole world exists, as the world forgets I exist, so I can be at peace for a little while before I’m called again to do some meaningless fetch job for an entity that is no longer the one I knew.”

“Maya, that’s not-”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.” She stood up on her toes, trying to close the height gap that made her feel even smaller in the moment. 

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up!” She snapped finally. Her eyes burning hot and piercing Lucien’s. 

She stepped away from him and collapsed on her bed. She brought her knees up to her chest, suddenly wanting to feel hidden.

She was not the type to put up a fight against her friends. For the longest time ever since she was a little girl from a nothing family, from a nothing island, she would just bow her head and do as she was told. She didn’t know any better back then, that she could make her own choices. She loved Nayden, and Sharni, Wane, Brianne, everyone, surely they wouldn’t lead her wrong. And they all left her when they had something better going on. It hurt of course, but she bore her sadness with a smile on her face. She met with them ever so often, but they had moved on from the life they shared with her.

Lucas was the only constant in her life since then. He was supposed to look after her. And in a way he did. It was the wrong way, but he tried. When he ended up bringing her back from the dead, she took to her new reality the only way she knew how to, graciously. But as the centuries went on and Lucas was called to other things, she came to realize that she shouldn’t have just accepted her new reality.

Lucien was older and smarter than her. He had fought the crippling loneliness and feelings of lacking purpose way before she was even born. He knew what he was talking about most of the time. So why did she feel like he was in the wrong now. He clearly appreciated thinking of the past, holding it close to his heart and making sure the people he knew won’t go forgotten like he did. He had made peace with it, and perhaps in a way it was comforting for him to think about all the things he’s lost.

She was lucky someone had gone through this before her. She would have no idea how to even begin to untangle the mess that is her thoughts. Lucien had gone through his own journey, on his own, and came to a conclusion that he was satisfied with, and he was just saying things that made sense to him. But she needed a different approach. She was sure he had gone over this with Viessa as well, but they were much closer, and he could guide her to something that made sense to her more easily.

For the first time they’ve known each other, Maya was sure Lucien was lost for words. The silence between them was heavy. As she sat, her eyes darted between Lucien and the book that now lay unceremoniously on the floor. It was uncomfortable. She wanted him gone for now, and he was thinking of a way to not leave this conversation on bad air.

He turned his back to her and took careful steps towards her cabinet where he picked up wolf tooth to fiddle with. He thought for a while how to verbally approach her. He kept his back turned to her to not come across as confrontational when he spoke up once more.

“I get that your circumstance is different from mine, and that you want a different meaning for it all, why you’re still here,” he started, inspecting the smooth surface of the large canine tooth, was it hers or Lucas’?

Maya huffed in response, acknowledging his point but offering no retort. 

“You were made immortal not because of desperation, nor for bargaining with a force far beyond your understanding. You were made immortal out of love. Lucas loved you so much he went against his own creed, the creed of the gods, just to share a few more moments with you.”

He was right, the thing that made Maya mad was how Lucien always noticed the details that matter. 

“And you want other people to know and remember you like Lucas does, to remember you as you were, the girl from the bay of Asaya, who traveled with their king, who brought great joy everywhere she went. But Lucas ruined it. By making you his, unintentionally or not, you’re bound to his will now, and his will is the same as the other gods’: never interfere, no one must know us.”

She stayed silent, her eyes never left her knees as the light from the window got blocked when Lucien kneeled down before her.

“And you’re supposed to be grateful, that someone so special cared for you that much, that you meant so much for him. It’s supposed to bring comfort right? But it doesn’t feel like it, does it?”

She shook her head, her eyes felt prickly from the tears threatening to gather. It had been a long, long time since she last fought with these thoughts. How she resented Lucas for what he did, despite also feeling blessed at times. It was tough, dealing with two contradicting feelings that both are ultimately true. She is supposed to feel blessed and grateful, Lucas did a great deed for her, but the same thing causes her so much pain. She had never felt more lonely.

She mustered up her strength and with a quivering voice she answered: “It doesn’t”

Lucien wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug. The gesture would’ve been unthinkable if it was during their own lifetimes, but circumstance had brought them together, and whether they like it or not, had intertwined their lives in a way only they understood.

She wrapped her own arms around and dug her nails into his back as she sobbed into his shoulder. The thick material of his coat absorbed her tears swiftly.

“Will it ever be okay?” She asked in a broken voice.

“I won’t lie, I have no idea”

#it's a biggin' #pushing nearly 8 pages #write first two pages and the last two and then went ???? in the middle hopefully it makes sense #in which they are both right and there are winners when your life is ruined by gods #maya to any older men that show even a hint compassion to her: i diagnose you with father figure #lucien to all the other dikaste: look guys. i cannot stress how much this fucking SUCKS #they have different ways of coping #some lore thing: the gods of the first age are different during the second age bc their essence got shredded into smaller deities #the nine god of the first age are now considered ur-gods #which are much less personified #armed asshats

[meimi-haneoka]

Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card Special Chapter: Comments and Analysis

WELCOME BACK, CCS FAAAAAAAAAAAANSSS!!!!!

Oh my god 3 months went already by from that December 1st and chapter 80, didn't they?? Feels like yesterday 🙈But we're finally here, finally ready for the release of the definitive, last SPECIAL CHAPTER of Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card!!!! After this, no more CCS for at least a while!!

Why do you see me so euphoric?? WELL, THERE IS MORE THAN ONE VERY GOOD REASON 😂 But let's not jump the gun and let's introduce this post properly: this time around, I won't be posting pictures to "illustrate" the analysis/commentary, because this special chapter was treated differently from the other ones. It didn't get, in fact, a free release on CLAMP's Youtube channel, in any language, and wasn't even uploaded for digital purchase on Comic Days like all the rest of the chapters. The only way to obtain it was via the April issue of Nakayoshi, either with the physical or digital version. Since it is clear to me their intention to keep this gem of a special chapter away from the internet jungle, and since lately I used only the screenshots from Youtube to illustrate my analysis, this time around I won't be posting anything (aside from the color page, which was released by the official account themselves).

AND! I won't be mixing analysis and summary, because I have already conveniently prepared some screenshots with a detailed summary of the chapter for the people who were curious to know, but didn't get to see the chapter yet or did see it but couldn't read Japanese. I have already posted these screenshots on my Twitter account, and I'll put them here too under the cut (please don't repost them around or in other social media), so you can immediately get a broad view on the content of the chapter (I don't have to point out translation mistakes, haha 😅), and then, afterwards, I'll write my commentary. And there is SO MUCH to say!!

But before starting, we can't break the tradition right at the LAST ROUND of our chapter commentaries, right?? So off we go, with the GIF OF THE MONTH!!

Yes, I think this is the GIF that can represent this chapter the most. 😂

The Color Page

This special chapter is composed of 33 pages, and of course I can't avoid starting my commentary precisely from the color page!!

I admit it, I hoped for a color spread with the four main characters of Clear Card (hence, including Kaito and Akiho too), but since the other two appeared with their own color page just in chapter 79, we'll gladly take this single color page with SyaoSaku too!! ❤️ The JP text reads "We've been together till now, and we will always be! Featuring a long-awaited special chapter!!" Syaosaku look absolutely adorable....and so, so happy!! Looking at us, from a wreath made of cherry blossoms, of course dressed in their image colors pink and green, in a "pair look"...I think their shiny smiles conquered the hearts of the entire fandom (saw many comments about it) and it is certainly a perfect introduction to a chapter that is, indeed, completely made of this happy, leisurely, warm atmosphere. I feel like it tastes even better, after all the anxiety they made us go through, right? I'm pretty sure that was CLAMP's goal all along, giving us this little reward after all the hard situations they've put their characters through. This color page looks like Sakura and Syaoran are saying "goodbye" to us, holding their hands in a lover's hold, but seeing them so cute and happy definitely soothes the sad feeling 🥲 Until we meet again...hopefully!

Letters From Around The World

But it's when the chapter starts that we get our first surprise: the time skip is of one entire year!!! We left our little heroes at the end of the first year of Tomoeda Middle school, ready to go in spring break and then start the second year...here, Sakura says she's in her spring break of the next year, ready to become a 9th grader!!! I almost couldn't believe they actually went that far, I knew from CLAMP's podcast that there was a timeskip, but I expected just some months! Although....I have to say the characters don't look that different, Mokona said she made them a tiny bit older and she kept true to that, because it's barely visible! 🤭 But if you compare them with how they looked at the middle of the story, of course the difference is visible.

I was so happy to see that the chapter started right away with a letter from Akiho: a letter or a videocall was definitely among the type of content I wanted to see in this chapter, because of course I still was quite preoccupied about the difficult journey Akiho and Kaito embarked on, so I wanted to see how they were faring. The amount of letters Sakura accumulated over the span of this year tells me that they moved around quite a lot, and she had always something to share with her "long-distance sister" 🤭 Kero praising Akiho's skills and even feeling some sort of "reverence" for her insane talent to find all the crazy and rare books was so funny and nice!! 😂Sakura is adorable, feeling all proud about the talent of her "sister" 🤭 Loved that they actually mentioned the place where Akiho and Kaito are currently at!! (cause they didn't reveal where they'd go first, in chapter 80, and I guess we'll never know). I appreciated SO SO much that they let us see that Akiho didn't drop, but actually continued to practice her sewing skills like she was doing before everything went down the drain with the Alice in Clockland play: moreover, finding out later that this skill is also helping her greatly with the true ambition of her life made me incredibly satisfied. How cute of her to send outfits for Kero and Suppy, even from far away??

I was quite surprised to find out that Akiho sends all the rare books to Eriol, and then laughed my as* off at Kero saying he's selling them off (the way Kero phrases it in JP makes it look a QUITE shady activity 😂). This shows there's a continued collaboration between the "group" in England and YunaAki, and it's very nice. They're not only "taking" support from Eriol, Akiho also does return the favor, providing Eriol with the books he needs.

And then....got really emotional to know that Kaito wrote a letter to Sakura, back when they left one year ago 🥲 I DID feel like some kind of acknowledgement or apology from Kaito to Sakura was missing from chapter 80 (but honestly, with everything they had to explain, where they could fit that?) and so this little mention completely fixed that sense of "he made a mess and barely managed to apologize to Akiho before leaving". Kaito isn't an ass*ole so of course he would've done something like that, and a letter seems perfect for an introvert boy of few words like him. I imagine the letter wasn't really long either. The little moon on the sealing wax...❤️The fact that Sakura is storing that single letter together with Akiho's letters in a specific box makes me almost cry. She cares for those two so, so much! 😭 Sakura wishes to receive more letters from Kaito and I really hope he will open up to her along the way, because he could benefit ENORMOUSLY from her advices and perspective! Also THANK YOU CLAMP for giving us a little "still" of those two next to eachother from the moment when they were leaving Tomoeda, with the suitcases and all 🥲that last faraway shot of all four of them together in chapter 80 was so great, but I wanted to see them like this too!

The SyaoSaku Date

Aaaaaand then we get to the long awaited, craved, coveted SYAOSAKU DATE!!! 🤣 I can't count how many people I've seen wishing for this....to be honest I was going to be ok with any kind of sweet moment between the two, but gotta admit that a carefree afternoon watching a stage play and then taking refreshment at a café gives this sense of normal, complete fun that was missing a bit for them. They are dressed in a very fancy way (loved that Sakura isn't wearing her usual long one-pieces but something different, with puff shorts! A sign of her growing up?) and even though they're not exactly wearing a "pair look" (too corny, maybe?), they are well matching eachother's outfits. And of course we find out that Tomoyo made Sakura's cute outfit and even the decorations on Syaoran's collar! The fact she was the one asking Syaoran to wear them at the date is kinda funny, like some sort of guidance into looking like a couple, thanks to the matching decorations! Tomoyo really takes care of everything....yes....everything. 🥲 The mention of Sakura's wedding dress of course made me go "OH MY GOD" and made me realize that if Tomoyo is already mentioning that.......we aren't *that* far away from that day (I always imagined SyaoSaku marrying early, since they're soulmates and got together so young!! 😆). Truly an emotional, sweet moment that was reinforced by Tomoyo's tender expression in the flashback. Her resolution to devote herself to learn to design even normal everyday outfits, or date outfits, everything that could accompany her dear Sakura everyday, reminded me that Tomoyo found her very own way to be with Sakura, and she's perfectly content with that. Tomoyo's happiness is seeing Sakura happy, and she will do anything to achieve that. ✨

Syaoran and Kaito's Friendship

And then my blushy blushy Sakura changes topic and suddenly throws me on the floor in a fit of laughter, because seeing Syaoran's confused look while he was trying to make sense of the pictures Kaito sent him on his phone WAS HONESTLY PRICELESS. 😆 My god, how long have I wished to see them like this? Moving their timid steps into a friendship (since their girlfriends are like sisters and Sakura literally saved Kaito's derriere), being their awkward dorky selves...they surprisingly get along so well and Syaoran doesn't seem to hold resentment towards him, which is GREAT for me!! He's learning from Sakura to just let go of hard feelings, when you've found out the person who acted in an oppositive way was just in a very desperate situation and had actually no ill intentions. And that makes me incredibly happy. Kaito needs all the support he can get, to make the right decisions in his life, and I can totally see him finding a particular connection with Syaoran, due to how they're both moon boys, who would give their life for the person they love. I think precisely for this, precisely because Syaoran can understand to a degree Kaito's situation and behavior, he wouldn't feel judged and would feel more free to establish a connection with him. I was k*lled with laughter and endearment when I saw that Syaoran felt confused, but still tried to understand Kaito's peculiar way of communicating with him 😂 And guess what? I think he doesn't realize it, but he's totally starting to get it! 😂The way our wolfie boy snaps that picture IMMEDIATELY as the cat passes by, and how he only framed the ear, really shows how in the end he's speaking "the same language" as Kaito 😂 Seeing Sakura so excitedly think to herself that the two became such good friends made me scream "SAME SAKURA-CHAN, SAME!!!" 😂 All in all, seeing these two having such a relaxed, comfortable date talking about their friends and stuff that happened lately made me completely feel that one year that elapsed, and now they act totally like a couple that's been dating for quite some time. 😊 Ooooh thank you sensei, really. Thank you so much for this scene. 🙏

The Moon Is Really Beautiful, Right?

BUT! The real reason why CLAMP will always have my heart and my gratitude is hidden in the next scene. 😂

Oh my god, the screams I've belted out when I saw them. And when I've read THAT. But let's go in order, let's go in order and not jump the gun! We're in Germany, Akiho and Kaito now seem to be living in an apartment in a nice building! They're still talking in keigo, and still calling eachother "Akiho-san" and "Kaito-san". 😊

Kaito SMILES genuinely at the picture Syaoran sent him!! And answers, to an observant Akiho, that he's having fun!! 😭HIM! The one who couldn't understand what was fun in interacting with others!!! He looks honestly so radiant and happy, a sign that his mental recovery is going strong. And that he's slowly expanding his "trusted people" network. 🥲🙏Also, he looks younger than ever!!! 😂

It made me INCREDIBLY HAPPY to see that Akiho didn't drop the "hobby" she had started in chapter 26 (ages ago!!), remember this scene?

I remember how much I loved to know she had started learning how to do this, because together with my friends, at the time, we all thought this could easily become her aspiration in life......and guess what?? CLAMP confirmed she wants to take on a job revolving around books and book repairing!! This is all canon!! T___T oh my happy tears.... There's a sense of pride in seeing that this journey for Akiho isn't only revolving around finding the cure for Kaito's shortened lifespan (which hurt his body terribly) and restarting his "stopped time", or finding Momo and the Alice in Clockland book, but she's also got the mental resolution to do something for herself, for what she wants to do in life, something that is completely disconnected from Kaito. Again, I cannot reiterate enough how this girl doesn't have an unhealthy codependent relationship with Kaito, and she's completely capable of thinking about her own future, aspirations and wishes. She wants him with her, and she could never live happily without him, but the love of her life isn't the only thing that exists for her. It is incredibly satisfying to see her working hard for her own future, where she'll be able to contribute (especially financially) to their livelihood. I can see Kaito helping her and assisting her with that. The other day I was dreaming away with my friends about Kaito and Akiho managing a "book cafè" together somewhere, how impossibly sweet that would be?

Seeing this volitive, ambitious, strong-willed Akiho once again filled my heart immensely. And I wasn't the only one, apparently.....

Oh god, you have no idea of the SHRIEKS I belted out when I saw Kaito saying "the moon is really beautiful, right?" in full daylight. Like. It is absolutely unmistakable at this point what kind of love he feels for her, and while I always knew, I'm sure the character took his own sweet time and personal introspection to reach that conclusion. If you remember, I've always said it and reiterated it at the end of chapter 80: Kaito won't understand things overnight, it will take a long time. And one year, at that age, is enough of a long time to come to terms with one's feelings and understanding what exactly they mean. They lived all that time together as two "equals", no more butler/boss bullsh*t, so they had even more opportunities to see eachother's true colors. And Kaito couldn't help but fall even more in love with Akiho, to the point that seeing her working so excitedly for her future made him gently overflow with that feeling....and said that sweet quote of Natsume Soseki that we all know, by now, what it means. I think the mere fact that what made his heart explode was seeing her so independent and strong, is a good sign that Kaito's love for her is the healthy and supportive kind, too. He doesn't love her and feels attracted to her soul because she's a weaker, younger, malleable being that he can dominate (as a toxic relationship would portray), but at the contrary, because she's free and strong and wonderful on her own. The more he sees her shining, the more that feeling grows. Throughout this scene, he looks at her and talks to her in such an intensely sweet way, you can totally see he's smitten with her.

The most popular reply to someone who confesses with "the moon is beautiful" is the equivalent of "I could die for you/I can die happy now", in Japanese. And Kaito had been unconsciously replying that way, with his actions, the whole damn time during the serialization of Clear Card. But since he took it way too literally, things were really heading to tragedy. Nobody wanted him to die for real, and yet, subconsciously, that was the only way he had found to give outlet to an enormous amount of feels that he couldn't express (because it wasn't appropriate, and nobody would ever love him, and he only caused her pain, and he had to let go of Akiho anyway at the end of it).

So considering all of THAT, this "I love you very much" he said now (he added とても, "very", like Akiho did ❤️) in this way, makes me think even more "yes, you finally understood what was the best way to convey it!" and therefore, it represents another character development for our moon boy. 🥲

There's debate over whether he had already understood what Akiho had meant, in chapter 48. I stand firmly by my convinction that, even if he was informed of the Japanese folklore tale around it, he quickly dismissed it as "no, she's meaning it literally for the moon", since he couldn't really believe that anyone would ever take interest in him, and was sure he would've always been alone. Otherwise, if he really understood and believed that Akiho was in love with him, I don't think he could've ever said that "I thought you didn't need me to be happy". It doesn't make sense. But everything that happened at the fake moon, and all her angry tears, and all her resolution to find a way to cure him, made him finally see that she really meant it in that way. ❤️So his own acceptance and introspection could finally start, and....it brought to this. ❤️ If you want to know more about the popular phrase "the moon is beautiful, right?", I invite you to check my first Clear Card Trivia post, focused on the literary and musical references portrayed throughout this story!

And LOL, I couldn't help but noticing several things in how this scene played out: first, he immediately "runs away" blabbering about the breakfast being ready, a very similar way to how he "ran away" in chapter 52 when Akiho could see right through him and was trying to express her support and feelings to him. This is definitely an indication (taking into consideration also how he acted when he was little) that the reason why Kaito walked away back then, slamming the door, had a sprinkle of embarrassment embedded in it, too. Yeah. I mean, look at the face he's making here, just before he notices, puzzled, that his hand is shaking:

He's smiling so tenderly, among the pain he's feeling because of his poor health. He even laughs! He's happy he heard that! But he just couldn't stay hearing any longer, back then. Now, in this scene of the special chapter, he literally throws "the bomb" and runs away without hearing her answer or reaction 😂😂😂this is definitely embarrassment, and I'd like to think there's even a hint of teasing streak that I've always seen between the lines in his personality. It came out particularly with Syaoran and Momo, but Akiho isn't excluded from this dynamic! 😂

And excuse me, but Akiho's reaction literally made me roll on the floor laughing!! 😂The poor girl is probably so used to live abroad, and Japanese folklore isn't probably coming up immediately in her mind anymore, despite it's a phrase SHE used HERSELF back then! 😂Or maybe it's because she didn't really expect it from him, and so she took a moment to connect the dots. Either way, it was extremely funny! And I can't absolutely avoid pointing out how our girl isn't blushing like mad anymore, but just slightly.... I mean. It must have been quite clear to her too, by now, that her feelings were in some kind "reciprocated", be it for what Sakura said back at the fake moon, his decision to go back to her, and his decision to reveal his true name, hence giving her his most vulnerable part of himself... This isn't a shock for her, and she probably waited patiently, patiently, for him to finally say something like this. So maybe, more than embarrassed, she's surprised that the day finally came! 🥲 Goodness. This really puts all my worries to rest, Akiho will truly be happy. And it makes total sense that CLAMP made him say this now, and not at the end of chapter 80. As I said, more time was needed. This entire scene leaves me with a sweet, soft, comfortable feeling, and it's totally how I've always imagined their relationship to be. Also....no more of that "he loves her as a daughter/sister" crap, not canon-wise at least. 😊

One last thing I have to point out about this scene, which curiously reconnects everything together, is that recently CLAMP have announced the themes to which their upcoming exhibition will revolve around: among them, there's LOVE (of course!), and among the decorations surrounding the featured character on the key visual (Sakura, for now, but there's at least another one coming!) there are a couple of birds too. Birds are, in this sense, a symbol of love in CLAMP's language. I couldn't really help but noticing all the birds flying outside the window next to Akiho, the moment Kaito says that "the moon is really beautiful, right?". Basically, CLAMP were trying to scream it all over the place, however they could. 😂

"Momo-san?!"

It was so nice to see Yukito and Kero-chan gossiping about Touya right in his face, with the complete intention to tease him 😂in that sense, Yukito really seems like a sweet and harmless character, but don't be fooled! His teasing power is over 9000!! 😂Touya's killing glare made me crack up! He's so done for, now that both Kero and Yukito can tease him in the open! 😂😂😂

But please, please, let me scream about MOMO!!! Oh my god I would've never accepted a special chapter that didn't feature her!! Aaaaahhh I'm so glad to see that she's fine 🥲 The conversation between her and Sakura made clear to me that she isn't that free to move how I imagined her to be. Certainly, she decides where to go and who the book stays with (and when to leave), but the impartiality imposed on her role doesn't allow her to act freely like she wants, unless she pays a price. And she decided to pay a price, not to see Akiho and Kaito, but to go and thank Sakura herself first. Because, as her "those kids" suggests, she of course still feels some kind of maternal instinct towards them, and as any mother would do, she wants to thank Sakura from the bottom of her heart for having helped and saved those two. Even her body language (the position of her hands) portrays that. And excuse me, but I A B S O L U T E L Y loved how CLAMP clarified once and for all, addressing directly the complaints of their own fandom, that Sakura wasn't forcingly dragged into a matter that wasn't related to her. Everything she did, she decided to do it because she felt it touched her personally. From the moment she became Akiho's friend and came to care for her, everything that happened and everything that she was involved with was related to her too. This wasn't "somebody else's business" anymore. Because Akiho is one of her most beloved friends, no matter how "fast" that happened. Some relationships bloom almost immediately, because the connection is just that strong. And so, this turned into just another expression of "your happiness is my happiness", with Sakura acting according to what her heart suggested. As Kaito is Akiho's most beloved person, Sakura couldn't help but care for him too, because doing so would've made her friend happy, in a wonderful "circulation of love".

Special mention for the scene with pregnant Lilie, oh my god I didn't really expect this either. How long ago I wrote that Tumblr post about cosmos flowers and the origin of Akiho's name? A couple of weeks ago? It's like CLAMP answered my curiosity, with this scene. I still keep my interpretation in my heart, but I also love the logic "it is a flower that keeps the same name in many countries". Of course. "Wherever you'll go, you'll always be your unique self". (And now I want to cry, mama's heart is so big😭) The way Lilie keeps her hands over her womb made me tear up. The ring isn't there anymore, a sign that she probably already gave it to Momo (understandably, since once Akiho would be born, she wouldn't really have much time left). The baby bump isn't that noticeable, probably because she's at the beginning of her pregnancy. Who knows if she kept seeing little Kaito while she was pregnant. 🥲Who knows if in the scene where she's telling him about how wonderful it is to have something you love, especially a person, she was already pregnant with Akiho. 🥲

Momo and Sakura's final words made me understand that Momo cannot go back to Akiho and Kaito till the circumstances and the moment is right. Whether it depends on Akiho's wish, or the right cosmic arrangement, it's surely not in the short term. Especially considering the limited scope of Momo's agency. It cannot come from Momo (unless she pays a huge price), it needs to come from them, strongly enough. I also want to think that, again as an acquired mother figure, Momo wants those two to find their own way, identity and figure out their relationship on their own, without her interference. I'm sure she's keeping an eye on them from faraway, though. 🥲Even though this still feels bittersweet because I wanted to see them reuniting in canon so badly, it gave me lots of hope for the future. Momo is just waiting for the right moment, and she'll be ready to embrace them when the time is right. Maybe, who knows, we'll see that reunion in another series or in a special publication in the future?

The End

And then....the final scene 🥲NOW it is finally clear what Ohkawa meant in that one Twitter Space, when she mentioned that there was a reason why they never featured Sakura's birthday!!! THEY NEEDED TO KEEP THE EXCLUSIVITY FOR THIS!! 😂 I'm so glad they did, really...it's so sweet to see her reaching 14 years old (the "standard age" of many shoujo heroines! 😂) and seeing Syaoran giving her a present, with that strikingly sweet smile full of love...but most importantly....the breathtaking final double spread 🥲🥲🥲🥲 The way she pulls his hand close to her chest, to her heart, while saying that Syaoran will be forever and ever her most important and special person.....really, this chapter is meant to k*ll us all with feels!🥲and I love how CLAMP keep finding ways to portray their physical displays of affection without resorting to the classic, most wanted (but also probably considered not appropriate yet) "kiss". The very final page is a direct parallel of a page from chapter one, where Sakura was going to school alone and looked back down the street to admire the cherry blossoms in full bloom.

Now, she's not alone anymore, but actually hugging the love of her life on her special day! Really, what a wonderful and fulfilling way to give the final touch to this amazing story! 🥲 Her very last line also contributed to this. Sakura leaves us again, 24 years after the first ending, with words of positivity for the future, and love for her important people. This wraps everything up nicely, but it still keeps things quite "open-ended", hopefully in the eventuality to return to this wonderful series in the future. Sakura is growing up, as CLAMP wished, and it might be possible to see her dealing with more "grown-up" situations, magic and non-magic wise. But one thing is for sure, her relationship with her loved ones will always take top priority. ❤️

Well well well, we came to the end of this looooooong commentary for this special chapter too. I can't help but thank once again all of you who followed my posts all these years, and commented with your POVs on the story.

As I've said multiple times, Cardcaptor Sakura gave me so much ever since I was a kid, and this sequel was no exception. This special chapter, in particular, overflowed with things I wanted to see, and I'm sure I'm not the only one thinking so. I once again want to congratulate CLAMP for wrapping everything up nicely, and thank them from the bottom of my heart for these almost 8 years of emotional journey. 🙏

See you around with my other tumblr posts, and let's look forward to the release of volume 16 on April 1st, and hopefully, news about the anime sequel of Clear Card!!

#cardcaptor sakura #card captor sakura #clear card arc #ccsakura #ccs spoilers #sakura kinomoto #syaoran li #akiho shinomoto #yuna d. kaito #syaosaku #yunaaki #special chapter #translation differences #how come this post is so freaking long even without translation differences? #well dammit I had A LOT TO SAY #and even some itches to scratch #aaaah the satisfaction #😊so happy

[karolinswritings]

Hi!! Could you do an Alphonse Elric X fem!reader that is an historian? Like, they meet during his travels and fell in love. You can choose what you want to write, like his courting, how they would work together, or him presenting reader to his family. I hope everything is ok. Thank you!!

Hi! Thank you very much for your request, I honestly like the idea a lot, as I myself am fond of history. Thank you for giving me so much freedom on what to write too! (I went all out on this one) I think it will be best if Alphonse is around 19/20 years old in this scenario though, assuming that Reader is over 18 to be a historian. Hopefully that is okay. Feel free to tell me if I assumed incorrectly.

Fullmetal Alchemist SFW Headcanons: Alphonse Elric X fem!Reader who is a historian

I can honestly see Alphonse and Reader meeting in one of two ways. Eighter he is doing research on the history of the records regarding the philosopher's stone and he goes straight to Reader's workplace to ask her about it personally, as she is a historian, or he goes into the local library and starts flipping through the pages of every book that might have information on the topic, and him and Reader meet there.

In the first scenario, assuming Reader works in an alchemist university/academy, he would probably feel quite shy and nervous about meeting up with her. Walking around the spacious halls of the academy, filled with top students and respected professors, he would definitely feel a little intimidated and out-of-place. Despite that, as soon as he notices Reader's name on her office door, he would take a deep breath and confidently knock - he came all the way here and he's come for important information too- so he can't back down now. He would take a deep breath, raise his head up and press on the door handle, gathering all of his confidence, filling his mind with positive thoughts:

"She is a historian, that's her job, so she must be pretty well-informed on the topic. I should be thankful I have the chance to meet her. She also sounded pretty nice on the phone yesterday. So I am sure she will be happy to answer my questions. I have no reason to be nervous. I am competent enough myself on the topic about the philosopher's stone, so I shouldn't be so anxious. I know what to say and what I want to know."

As soon as he enters her office though - mind blank. I will stick with Reader being a very well-put-together woman and respectively - her office would reflect that - tall, wooden bookshelves filled to the rim with thick, hard cover books, her sitting at her desk, positioned in the middle of the room, a cup of coffee on her left side, a pile of documens awaiting her signature on her right side, a black-ink pen in her hand and a concentrated expression on her face. Breathing in the scent of old books and hot coffee, as well as her elegant perfume, he would immidiently loose his cool and freeze in his spot, not knowing how to even introduce himself at that point. Nervousness would take the best of him. Despite that, I see the situation taking a turn - her letting go of her pen and moving the documemts to the side, signalling that her attention is now on him, and her welcoming gaze meeting his, along with a soft smile and the following words:

"You must be Alphonse Elric, correct? We had a phone call yesterday at noon. It's exactly 2 o'clock, you came right on time!"

Reader's welcoming demeanor and soft gaze would not only help him instantly relax and remember all that he wanted to say to her, but also cause a new thought pop up in his mind, the last thing he had tought he would think of her. Professional? Put-together? Elegant? Those were all words that popped up in his mind as soon as he walked in, and he was fine with them - they were all reasonable and he very much expected her to be like that. But that one, he suprised himself with:

"Oh wow, she's beautiful.."

Of course, he would ignore that last one immideately - he must focus on what he had originally come for - information on the philosopher's stone.

Despite that, her easy-going personality and friendly demeanour would be of too much help to him - not only is he relaxed enough to ask her all about the stone and its' origins, but to even ask her to meet informally - of course, not romanically (yet), but simply in a more informal setting - like a cafe.

And that is on how they meet according to my first scenario. Now, on the other hand, if they meet at a library, things would take a slightly different turn.

Now, on the second scenario, I can imagine it going eighter like this: Reader notcing that Alphonse is flipping through various books and is visibly struggling to find what he is looking for, and she respectively decides to help him out:

"Looking for something specific? I am familiar with the history section, let me help you."

Or the following: Alphonse noticing that Reader is in the same library section as him and is visibly well-oriented, so he decides to ask for her assistance:

"Excuse me, I appologise for the interruption, but could you please help me find books that might contain information on the philosopher's stone?"

In both scenarios, I see the thought "Oh wow, she's beautiful.." passing through his mind as soon as he lays his eyes on her.

From here on, regarding how he fell in love and his courting, I think after going out with her a few times and talking not only about the stone and alchemy but about various matters, he would fall in love with her pretty quickly - I see him as a love-at-first-sight type of person. But one thing that would make him fall even deeper would be her intelligence. I am sure he would be intimidated by it in the beginning, but would gradually become mesmrised and extremely attracted by how intelligent she is.

He would deffinitely take her out a few times to the same cafe, getting to know what she usually orders - what she likes and doesn't like, and would eventually ask her out on a date to a place he specifically picked out for her - for example a sweets shop if she has a sweet tooth, a specific type of resturant, a park or even on a picnic in the forest if she is into that. He would give his all on their first date.

About asking her out on a romantic date for the first time, he would definitely be nervous. He would be looking in her eyes with all the hope in the world, begging to hear the word "yes".

Now, as soon as they get together, I see him as someone who would let her take the lead. Generally I don't think he is a natural leader, but that doesn't mean he won't take the lead when needed - he willl put lots of effort into making suprises for her or taking her out to a new place, and all of that will be planned and arranged by him alone.

I am sure he would be into praise. Especially considering that Reader is a historian. If she praises his knowledge and the amount of effort him and Ed have put into their research on the stone, he would be jumping from happiness on the inside. On the outside though - keeping it lowkey, a simple "thank you" and a smile, maybe a pink blush.

I think he would become a regular to her office in the academy and his kind nature would make most of the students, professors and personal love him. Most would even start calling him Al.

Now, about presenting Reader to his family, that would mean Edward, Winrey and Winrey's grandma. I honestly see him as not telling Ed about Reader at all. Like, literally, not a word.

"Al, who's that woman you were with today? I saw you two earlier at the town square."

"Oh, she's a historian from the academy. Helps me with research."

Period. Maybe even switiching the topic to something that would catch Ed's attention to make him forget about Reader.

The reason for that is, I think Al would be worried that Edward might embarass him in front of Reader and that is not something he wants at all. Even though he knows she would accept him no matter what, he would want to look cool in front of her. So Edward would be the last to get to know about their relationship. (and would most likely be very suprised)

Winrey and grandma though? They would know every single detail. He would call Winrey at least once a day to ask her for advice on what to get Reader, where to take them and pretty much anything that comes up in his mind. He would want to be sure that he is doing everything right and there is nothing better than the opinion of another woman.

"She would know what Reader will like the most, I should call her."

#fma #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist headcanons #homunculus #fullmetal alchemist envy #anime headcanons #roy mustang #alphonse elric #headcanons #shonen anime #x reader #anime and manga #anime #manga #fem reader #taking requests #envy x reader #fma fanfiction #fanfic #fmab fanfiction #writing requests #reqs open #request

[tathrin]

Writing Year Wrapped (2023)

Ooh, thank you for the tag @sallysavestheday!

3 Favorite Fics You've Written This Year:

Of course we have to go with my current obsession, And In The Darkness To Unmake Them, an as-canon-compliant-as-possible Fellowship-AU that asks, what would happen if Celebrimbor got himself re-embodied and came back to Middle-earth to try and make up for his mistakes by helping to destroy the One Ring (and brought all his unhealed trauma with him)? Plus a slow-burn romance for Legolas and Gimli, a whole lot of delicious world-building for Mirkwood, and a more active role for Arwen too!

Five Times Gimli Died (and One Time He Didn't) is, I think, despite the simplistic and trope-y title, one of the most elegant things I've ever written, and I am very much in love with it. It's the story of Gimli and Legolas's romance, from beginning to end (well...not really end, because the joy of them is that they're a story that doesn't end—Gimli Immortality Agenda, you can't stop me!—but the story ends with the beginning of their happily-ever-after, which is a sort of end, no?), told in a series of scenes that takes place from Moria to the Undying Lands, and could almost slip right in between the pages of canon if you squint enough to overlook a little bit of meddling from Mahal on behalf of his new favorite dwarf (don't tell Durin).

To Live In Undying Lands is a series of snippets set in Aman after Legolas and Gimli cross the Sea, focused on both their new life there and that of our beloved Hobbits who went over before. And I went back and forth several times deciding whether to swap the placement of this one and Last Temptation... below, but I ultimately think that was a bit more of a stretch than this one, despite the fact that I Never Write Hobbits and am writing quite a lot of Hobbits for this one, and also I Never Write Snippets Without An Overarching Plot—and because I'm such a sucker for Gimleaf that if I have to pick a favorite between any two comparable stories, it's always going to be the one with them in it! (Also: Gimli Immortality Agenda, always!)

3 Fics That Stretched You the Most:

Dead Faces In The Water; Dead Faces Everywhere - I don't write present tense, I don't write modern AUs, and I don't write zombie stories...but here I am, writing all three at once! (Thanks, @katajainen! This story is 1/3 your fault, 1/3 @roselightfairy and @deheerkonijn's fault, and 1/3 Mira Grant's lol. And you were the inciting incident, so you get first blame!) And somehow having a great time doing it! (So much world building! I'm in paradise!)

The Last Temptation of Narvi of Khazad-dûm - probably one of the most overtly ambitious stories I've ever done. It's likewise in present-tense, although that's considerably less daunting now after almost forty chapters of zombies; but there were a lot of other balls to juggle on this story, including my first time properly writing both of the main characters as well as anything set in Ost-in-Edhil; and of skirting right up against the line of how close it came to all ending differently and making that (hopefully) feel almost like it could have gone differently and avoided all that tragedy in a way that, hopefully, both satisfies and distresses the reader.

And (I suppose this is a bit of a give-away, but it's not like I tried very hard to hide anyway; the anonymity is mainly designed to make people feel more comfortable offering con-crit, which I have no idea if it actually helped or not but I did get some lovely and helpful feedback on it, so I'm going to say the tactic has been a success) definitely Cliffside Revelations, which has the honor of being my very first explicit smut fic...even if most of the smut is an excuse for world building, which I'm sure shocks all of you lmao!

(And sneaking in an honorable mention of On The Far Side of the Sundering Sea, because my name isn't on the previous one so it probably doesn't technically count...which means I can slip in an extra story as a technicality, right? Right. Shhh, it's fine!)

3 Favorite Lines You've Written (loosely interpreting "lines" as sallysavestheday has cleverly demonstrated):

Oh this is difficult. Most of my best lines are only their best because of the context around them; and it's hard to remember them as distinct lines after their sections have been finished and posted. But this does at least save favorite and not best, so that helps; let's give it a try, then.

First, from Five Times Gimli Died (and One He Didn't) we have a moment of a revelation on Gimli's part, as he discovers that his heart might not be as alien to his Maker as he feared it was:

He stood in silence, staring at the unseen form of he who had made all Dwarves; of the Maker of stone and rock and mighty mountain. Mahal, who had made the Dwarves…Mahal, who loved the green.

This is one that definitely needs the context to make it work, so we're including the whole preceding paragraph from Blows Uncounted, a little AU-take on Helm's Deep where either the uruks are stronger or Gandalf is slower, and the battle has a darker ending.

For Legolas was not simply any elf: he was an elf of Mirkwood. Taur-ne-Fuin, the forest under nightshade; Taur-e-Ndaedelos, the forest of great fear. These orcs and uruks of Isengard, used to preying on earnest horse-lords and forthright farmers, had never met an elf of his sort before. Their northern kin could have told them stories of what befell orcs beneath the black boughs of Mirkwood…but orcs did not often come alive from those dark woods, not at least without Nazgûl to guard their travels.

And there were no Nazgûl here.

And taking a complete one-eighty in tone from the previous, I am quite inexcusably delighted with this one from Honeysuckle and Cider, and still giggle to myself whenever I re-read it:

"Uh," says Aragorn, son of Arathorn, King of Gondor, first of the House Telcontar.

(The line after it definitely qualifies as a runner-up, but I do think this one beats it out. Sorry, Faramir!)

Actually there's one other line I really wanted to put in here, even more than the one about the Nazgûl, but I'm not going to, because it's the very last line of the story it appears in, and reading it before you read that story would suck all the wind out of its sails, I think; so if you want to know what that is, you'll have to go read The Last Temptation of Narvi of Khazad-dûm for yourself.

3 Characters You Enjoyed Writing (that surprised you):

Anntar (Sauron), actually! I got to play with him as more than just a Menacing Presence in The Last Temptation of Narvi of Khazad-dûm and oh, he was so much fun! This was Sauron in full-on seducing-the-Gwaith-i-Mírdain mode, with maybe just a hint of how he actually wanted to be stopped, so that he could let the schemes for world-domination go and just be happy here with his smith-lovers...or maybe that was all wishful thinking on Narvi's part. Regardless, it was great fun to play with both failed and successful manipulations here, as well as to actually write something with my new favorite OT3.

Boromir may have come as even more of a shock to me, actually. I very quickly went from "distant fondness but very little interest" in Boromir to taking great delight in him, thanks in largest part to Dead Faces in the Water, Dead Faces Everywhere (and a little bit to Two Fell Into Shadow, although most of that was written or at least sketched-out earlier; but I'm counting it, because I don't think I realized how much fun he was fifteen years ago or so when I was writing it initially). Also, of course, his part in And In The Darkness To Unmake Them, although I haven't gotten to the point of posting any of his Grey Company chapters yet (shhh). He's such a wonderful sort of "I did not sign up for any of this; I have no idea what's happening; but I Am Participating Anyway!" sort of character, dragged out of his element commanding Minas Tirith's armies (where he's an extremely competent and confident fellow) and tossed into this baffling world of weirdness full of elves and magic and nonsense, for which he is so ill-equipped and ill-prepared. And yet he gamely goes along with it, because it needs doing! Whatever the fuck it is! He has no idea!

And last but certainly not least: Gimli, although this one may be less of a surprise; but it was a surprise to me how often I ended up writing from his perspective. I did not expect that, because I'm much more interested in elves (especially Mirkwood elves) than I am dwarves in general, and I've done a lot less world-building (a lot less) for Erebor than I have Mirkwood; but it's so much fun using Gimli as "the sensible perspective" (as well as an excuse to get really flowery with my wording sometimes, shhh!), not to mention an extremely astute and observant one, that he makes for a very addictive viewpoint character. I actually ended up having to make a conscious effort to switch to Legolas's pov sometimes, in fact, because it was so easy and charming to fall into Gimli's head and stay there! That was definitely a surprise to me.

3 Unexpected Inspirations:

This fucking dream! I still don't know what the hell happened to me that night, but it sure was unique and extremely unexpected!

And quite startling was the time where seeing the Legolas-always-looks-back-for-Gimli gif-post from the LotR movies cross my tumblr dash right to an Orpheus-and-Eurydice poll basically popped this whole-ass story fully formed into my head in one big rush of inspiration. Although the same thing happened with this post and And His Hands Ran With Gold and Shadow, so maybe I should stop thinking "random post on tumblr" is unexpected inspiration...

And uhhh....this XD

3 WIPs You're Excited About in the Upcoming Year:

And His Hands Ran With Gold and Shadow which I swear I will get back into working-on as soon as I get some of my other ongoing stuff finished, because I absolutely adore it! and I definitely want to write more on it! very much so! but the vibes required for writing it are so different from the other stuff that it's hard to switch back-and-forth between it and them (same goes for the zombie-fic).

An As-Yet-Untitled story set many, many, many years after the end of the War of the Ring in the Undying Lands, where our three beloved Hobbits (and one Dwarf) living on those timeless shores discuss their mortal lives, and decide when and whether to let them end.

The sequel to The Dark Reborn, because I am at some point going to drag my brain back into the galaxy far, far away enough to start reading and writing Star Wars fic again, and I fucking will finish this fucking awesome sequel trilogy fic I started, kriff it!!!

3 People Tagged to Share Theirs:

Tagging with zero pressure: @babybat98 @bifuriouswaterbender @katajainen

#if you've already done this and i just tagged you again forgive and ignore me #i haven't had a chance to look at my dash yet today (i was at work and then reading the new murderbot ahhhhhhhhhh so good!!!!) #or! if you'd like to take the opportunity to talk about even MORE stories! feel free to make a second post with the runner-up fics lol #writing year wrapped #my writing #my stuff #ask meme #lotr fanfiction #gigolas #gimleaf #silvergifting #legolas #gimli #celebrimbor x narvi #silverdoorsgifting #that's right i'm MAKING UP MY OWN SHIP NAME for this ot3 and NOBODY CAN STOP ME

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning!  I hope you slept well and feel rested?  Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day.

As predicted, my work hours yesterday were 7.00 am – 9.00 pm, with a walk and lunch in the middle.  I really got a lot done.  A very productive day! 

At one point, I paused for a few moments to check Twitter and saw a post from one of my favourite feeds, Fesshole.  A page on which people anonymously confess to things I would NEVER put out in public.  One of the common themes is actually, “I’m in a high-powered job, I don’t do a stroke of work and I get paid a fortune.”  I see versions of this confession quite often.  Here’s an actual example, “64, about to retire from well paid job. Everyone says I deserve it after working so hard for so long. I really haven't.”  Clearly, there are quite a few people in ‘cushy’ jobs, just blagging their way through their day!  Nice work, if you can get it!

I went out for my walk just before it turned grey and began spitting.  Good timing!  My step count is not going up quickly enough.  The Health app on my iPhone is laughing at me!  Got two PCNs last month, with another major fine (for going 24 in a 20) to come.  I only drive if I absolutely HAVE to!  I hate cars, I hate driving, and the roads in London hate drivers!  

On Tuesday, I went into campus and there was a new security guard on reception.  She looked Indian, about mid-fifties.  She’d never seen me before and was waiting for me to show her my ID.  “Are you a student?” she asked.  I got up close to her desk, so she could see me clearly.  “I’m 64!” I said to her.  “Do I look like a student?”  Secretly, I was very flattered.  Maybe it’s because I dress like a student?  She muttered something under her breath.  I showed her my ID and went through.    

Got down to some writing yesterday.  51,000 words and counting!  One of the most important things I did was re-arrange the structure.  Now, it has a much more logical flow.  Editing and re-editing is part of writing.

Have a throbbing and thrusting Thursday (with hopefully a few thrills through your thoroughfare?)  I love you all.

#mixcloud #mi soul #dj #music #new blog #lockdown #coronavirus #books #weekend #democracy

[phykios]

Five Times Percy Jackson Cheated At School (And One Time Someone Cheated Him) [read on ao3]

thank you as always to @darkmagyk for inspo and beta-ing 💙💙💙 and thank you to @arosnowflake for the homer idea!

1)

Percy squints at the paper prompt again, tilting his head, as if the new angle will extract some hidden information. It doesn’t change. The font is the special dyslexia-friendly one used by most departments at NRU, so he isn’t misreading it, either.

Your final will be an 8-10pp (TNR, 12pt, double-spaced) research paper expanding on one of the topics discussed in our class so far, or an alternate idea of your choosing, to be submitted in writing by May 7 with footnotes and bibliography. By 10am on the Wednesday before the Thursday class you will submit online a 750-word essay (word count does not include footnotes) on the research thread you have pursued that week (no written assignments due Week 6 or Week 12). 

Percy might hate college.

“Your neck bothering you again?” Annabeth asks, coming up behind him, her hands already on his shoulders. She’s sweaty, dressed in workout clothes, having just come back in from a jog. 

“My neck is fine,” he says. “Just preemptively freaking out over my Roman history final.”

He tilts his head back over the top of his chair, staring into the upside down, prettily frowning face of his girlfriend, and it does nothing to improve his mood.

“How bad is it?”

“Eight to ten pages,” Percy says, “not including footnotes.”

“Ouch.”

“And,” he grimaces, “it’s a topic of our choosing.”

Her mouth twists in sympathy. “Sucks.”

“Yep.”

“Anything I can do to help?” She squeezes his shoulders lightly, an open invitation. 

He shakes his head, stretching his arms back to grab her waist. “Promise not to break up with me when you catch me crying at 4AM over it.”

“Promise.” And she seals it with a kiss, bending down to reach him. “Dad wants to know if you’re free on the 16th.” 

“The 16th?” He wracks his brain. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t conflict with sailing, or Greek Club, or the monthly intra-pantheon relations council meeting that Chiron and Clarisse both guilted him into joining. “Pretty sure. Why?”

“Dinner--Charlotte’s out of town that weekend.”

“Sounds good.”

“Great, I’ll let him know. Now,” and she grins, “are you going to stare at that computer all day, or do you want to come and take a shower with me?”

Percy slams the computer shut. 

He doesn’t think about his paper topic for a while after that.

***

To his great dismay, Percy gets to her dad’s house first on the 16th. Drama in writing group 🙄 she texts him as he gets to the door, be there asap.

Great. Alone in the house with his girlfriend’s dad. Taking a deep breath, he knocks on the door. 

Not a minute later, Dr. Chase opens it. Last time they went to visit, Percy and Annabeth had ended up waiting outside for almost a quarter of an hour. “Oh, Percy,” he says, fumbling his flight helmet off his head. “Goodness, I thought I’d lost track of time again. Come in, come in.”

“Thanks,” Percy says, stepping inside and shedding his jacket. “Annabeth’s running late, but she said she’d be here soon.”

He frowns, looking so much like Annabeth that it throws Percy for several loops. “Well, that’s alright,” he says. “I’m sure we can entertain ourselves well enough until she gets here.”

“Yeah,” Percy chuckles, uneasy.

Several seconds pass. 

“Oh!” starts Dr. Chase. “Right, yes. Come in. Would you like something to drink?”

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t get much better.

A few minutes of staggered conversation later, it becomes eminently clear why they need Annabeth between them. It’s not the awkward small talk that doesn’t go anywhere (“How’s school going for you?” “It’s okay.” “Good, that’s good to hear.”) or the fact that Dr. Chase doesn’t really grasp how to relate to younger kids (“Have you heard of this website called ‘Vine’?”), but more that it’s just painfully obvious that the two of them don’t really know where they stand with each other. 

Now, he knows that Frederick Chase doesn’t hate him. Objectively, he’s aware of the fact that, if it weren’t for him, Annabeth never would have reconnected with her father in the first place, and he kind of owes him for that. Also, Percy knows that he’s a pretty chill guy--a little scatterbrained, but chill. 

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to make a good impression, though. Or that Dr. Chase thinks that Percy is smart enough for his daughter. Because, like, Percy isn’t smart enough for Annabeth--that much is obvious. Dr. Chase was courted by Athena. Percy barely made it out of high school calculus.

“Would you…” Dr. Chase hedges, plucking off his glasses and giving them a quick wipe with his shirtsleeve. “Would you like to see some of my current research?”

“Uh… sure. I’d love to.” 

At the very least, hopefully Dr. Chase will talk enough for the both of them, eating up time until Annabeth gets here.

A new spring in his step, Dr. Chase leads Percy to his study, where he’s got a setup worthy of Cabin Six: on his desk is a massive map of the Mediterranean, littered with miniatures of tanks, planes, and ships. Ringing the room are wall-hangings, depicting different types of planes, half of their structure in x-rays like people in an anatomy textbook, sandwiching the giant viking sword which hangs directly behind his chair. Every inch of floor space is occupied with a pile of books, some serving as additional desk space for mugs, notepads, spare toy soldiers, and, in one case, what looks like the leftovers of a handful of celestial bronze spearheads, melted down into shiny, useless nuggets. 

“You know I primarily study aviation,” Dr. Chase is saying, tidying up as he walks around the room, “but my colleagues and I are collaborating on an interdisciplinary re-evaluation of the entire North African theatre in World War II. It’s fascinating stuff; until very recently, they used to call it the ‘war without hate,’ given the lack of partisan roundups and, ah, ethnic clashes that you see in Europe--absolute garbage, of course. As if there weren’t civilians caught up in the fighting, too!” He chuckles, pleased at his own joke. Percy forces a laugh out of himself. “Anyway, with my prior experience studying the invasion of Sicily, I was brought on to assist in piecing the timeline together, working backwards from 1943.”

“Cool,” says Percy, filling the natural gap of conversation.

“Extremely! Operation Husky was a terrific endeavor of airborne, amphibious, and land-based combat.”

Percy nods. Amphibious? “Uh-huh.”

“Though, I must admit, I am having a little trouble retracing some of the ships.” Peering over his map, he leans down, fiddling with one of the ships. “You see this one here? The Palmer?”

Stepping up to the desk, Percy crouches down so the little toy ship is at eye level.

“Well, based on official records, the Palmer was supposed to have arrived at the rendezvous point at the same time as all the other ships, but ended up delayed by two days, and I can’t… quite…” He moves the ship again, frowning. “Figure out… why…” 

“Where were they sailing through?” Percy asks. 

Dr. Chase points to the map. “From Alexandria to Malta.” 

“They probably just hit a bad couple of currents,” Percy says, standing up. 

Tilting his head, Dr. Chase peers at him. “How do you mean?”

“If you’re going through the Cretan Passage, you’re going to hit all kinds of West-East currents which will push you backwards.” Snatching up a pencil from a nearby book stack, Percy lightly sketches on top of the map, tracing along the North African coast. “There are tons of overlapping currents in this area that push boats around in circles, especially around Sicily. That’s one of the reasons why so many historians figure that Homer was referring to the Strait of Messina when Odysseus goes through Scylla and Charybdis, here.” And he circles the strait, with a confident flourish.

When he pulls back, Dr. Chase is staring at him.

Percy blinks. “Um… sorry I drew on your map.”

“You--I have been trying to figure that out for weeks.”

He coughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry.”

But Dr. Chase just laughs. “You can make it up to me by helping me with these next.” Clearing crumbs off of southern France, he bends over, pencil in hand. “So, say you were trying to get from Marseilles to Tunis…” 

Forty-five minutes later, still embroiled in battle recreations of the Mediterranean theatre, they don’t hear Annabeth letting herself in with her key, not even registering her presence until Dr. Chase, grasping for a notebook, spots her leaning against the doorway. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“Oh, Annabeth, dear! I’m sorry,” says Dr. Chase, going over to give her a hug. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

“I can see that,” she says. “What are you guys doing?”

“Percy here has been assisting me with naval movements,” he says, proudly.

Lacing her fingers with his, Annabeth steps over to Percy, studying their battle map. “Really?”

“Oh yes, he’s been phenomenally helpful.”

She kisses his cheek, pleased. “Look at you, Mr. ‘Phenomenally Helpful.’”

“It was pretty fun,” he admits, warm all over.

“I’d bet. Although, I guess this means we should probably order in for dinner…?”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Dr. Chase smiles. “Yes, I suppose we should. Does pizza sound all right to you two?”

“Let me take care of it,” she says, slipping from Percy’s side. “You guys looked like you were in the middle of something. Extra olives, dad?”

“Don’t forget--”

“And anchovies, Percy, I know.” She rolls her eyes, taking out her phone.

Rather than the three of them move into the kitchen, Annabeth ends up bringing the pizza in with her, because of course she has opinions she’d like to share about the Allies’ naval movements. 

“You know, Percy,” says Dr. Chase, “I must say, you have a real knack for this kind of thing. Have you thought about what you might major in yet?”

Ah, the million drachmae question. “Not yet,” he says, fiddling with a pencil. “I figured I’d get through my gen eds first and then see which one I hated the least.” 

“I think you should consider majoring in history.”

Percy’s head snaps up. “History?”

“Specifically maritime history, I suppose. Your predisposition to sailing and ocean currents would be a huge asset to your research.”

“But--wouldn’t history have, like, a metric ton of required reading? I’m not really sure that’s my area.” He has a daughter with dyslexia and ADHD; surely he’d understand Percy’s hesitation.

But he just shakes his head. “Graduate programs these days are very favorable towards interdisciplinary methodology, I sincerely doubt you’d have to barricade yourself in the library. And recently there’s been a significant push to make the field more accessible to students with disabilities, including things like digitization, screen reading for people with vision impairments, and even restructuring programs all together so that students no longer have to memorize the Encyclopedia Britannica in order to pass their general exams.”

“That’s really nice of you to say, Dr. Chase,” Percy says, “But history class isn’t like talking over naval movements with you.” He thought back to the paper that had lowkey been haunting his dreams. “Like, in my classical history survey, I can’t just… talk about currents and battle plans. I have to come up with a topic on my own, and then write about that.” 

“Surely something involving Roman naval movements would be well within your skill set. You have a second sense about these things,” he chuckles, “clearly.”

Percy glances towards Annabeth, hoping she’ll back him up, but she looks thoughtful. Considering. Like she’s actually thinking about her dad’s proposal. “I can’t just choose something in naval history.”

“Why not?”

“Because… it's too easy?” 

If it was anything like his afternoon with Dr. Chase, it might even be fun. And school isn’t supposed to be fun. 

He repeats that thought to Annabeth as they drive home. “School isn’t supposed to be fun.” 

“No,” Annabeth agrees, “but I don’t know… I like my intro art history class way better than anything we ever did in high school because I actually care about it. Maybe if you write about stuff you’re good at, like my dad suggested, you’ll like it more.” 

The idea follows him all the way to bed, where he’s still mulling it over at 2 in the morning. Before he can chicken out, he grabs his phone, shooting off a quick email to his professor with his potential paper topic, then rolls over, eventually falling asleep.

By morning, he has a response. 

Sounds good! Looking forward to it.

***

With shaking hands, Percy calls his mom. “Yes?” 

“Hey mom.”

“Percy?” He hears her perk up, almost visualizing her sitting up in her chair. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Mom instincts. They can always tell when something is different. His heart throbs in his chest. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says, smiling stretching across his face. “It’s just--I got my paper back.” 

Percy had ended up writing his paper about the Roman navy movements in the Battle of the Aegates in 241 BC. It was probably the most fun he’s ever had on a school assignment, or at least the most fun he’d ever had writing a paper. 

“And?” She sounds expectant, hopeful. His mom has always had such faith in him, even with thirteen years of schooling to prove her otherwise. 

He looks back at his email, just to make sure he’s reading it right. “I got an A.”

She gasps. He can hear the scrape of the chair as she stands up. “Percy, that’s wonderful!” 

“Thank you.”

“An A!”

He smiles into his fist, inordinately pleased. “Thank you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I am so happy for you!”

“Thanks, mom.”

“I’m so proud of you, Percy.” Her voice is soft now, like twilights on the beach with blue marshmallows. “I know how hard you’ve worked for this. You should be very proud, too.”

“I am.” And he is, weirdly enough. “I just can’t believe it.”

“I can.” His mom must be grinning, her eyes sparkling. “I always knew you could do it.”

“Sally?” He hears in the background, muffled. “Is that Percy?”

“Paul, Percy got an A on his Roman history paper!”

A second voice crowds its way in, equally excited. “An A? That’s great, kiddo! Congratulations.”

Why can’t he stop smiling? “Thanks.”

“I bet that feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

“Well, it is very well-deserved,” says Paul. “That was some great work you did. I could tell how passionate you were about your topic just from your first sentence.”

“Thank you.” Maybe he should be worried about all this praise going to his head, but damn, is it nice. “Listen, I have to go get started on dinner, but I just wanted to give you a call.”

“Of course,” says his mom. “I want to hear from you more, okay? Tell me more good news! Like when are you and Annabeth going to--”

“I’m working on it, okay?” says Percy, smiling even more broadly. “I’ll keep you posted, promise.”

She laughs, tinny and happy. “You’d better. Congratulations again, sweetheart.”

“Thanks mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” 

And he hangs up, puts his phone down on the table, tilts his head back, and sighs, full, happy, a release. 

Maybe college won’t be so bad after all. 

2)

“You don’t have to do this,” Frank says, hushed. “All you have to do is walk away.”

Five Greek Fire bombs, cloudy yellow, are lined up on the table in front of him, neatly laid out in front of five twenties. From the side, Frank stares him down, surrounded by an army of morbidly curious Romans. Someone turned off the music and turned on the lights a while ago, stopping the party in its tracks, every eye on Percy and his opponent. Figures, his first college party all year and he causes a scene. 

Percy grips the edge of the table. “He insulted the Mets,” he says for the millionth time. “I can’t let that shit stand.”

Frank sighs. “Annabeth?” he asks, hoping to stop this nonsense.

Turning to his side, Percy sees his girlfriend, two drinks in, her cheeks lightly flushed, but solid as she stands beside him, supporting him. Her eyes are hard, fierce, the warrior gaze of Athena all but leaping out of her. “Do it,” she says. 

William, the sour-faced Roman legacy of Juventus, scowls. “A hundred bucks on the table. Sixty seconds. No throwing them back up.”

“Deal.”

“Frank,” Annabeth calls. “Start the clock.”

He sighs. “You guys are idiots.”

“Frank!”

“Okay, okay.” He holds out his phone, thumb primed, hovering over the screen. “On your marks, in three… two… one…” 

He hits zero, and Percy grabs a shot glass. Squeezing his eyes shut, he brings it to his lips, and throws it back.

It’s… not what he expected.

The tequila is awful--no getting around that. Even to Percy’s untrained taste buds, having really only ever had some of Gabe’s sour beer (under duress) and some of the Demeter cabin’s strawberry wine (on his eighteenth birthday, a celebration for actually getting to graduate high school), he can tell it’s cheap, rank, unrefined shit, like he’s drinking straight toilet cleaner. But the garum, the weird Roman condiment that the shot is mixed with, the one that Percy had never heard of before, it’s… it almost tastes like the fish sauce that comes with the pork and rice noodles from the Vietnamese place down the corner of his mom’s apartment, only less… fishy? Yeah. Less fishy.

It’s a weird taste. It’s not bad, by any means, it just--straight up, it just tastes like saltwater. Like the sea. 

And, well. Percy can handle the sea.

He looks at William, and grins. “You are so fucked.”

The assembled Romans cheer, spectators at a gladiator show, as Percy knocks back the rest of the Greek Fire bombs, one after another, clearing them all in under thirty seconds. Annabeth swipes up the cash, shrieking as she throws her arms around Percy. William wanders off, red-faced and glaring, as whoever turned the music off before flips it back on, the night, and the party, saved.

Silly Percy. He should have known what was coming next.

Thirty minutes later, he is well and truly wasted.

“You’re, like, really pretty,” he shouts at Annabeth over the loud music.

She snorts, grinning at him. “Thanks.”

“Seriously,” he slurs, tipping forward on his feet. “You could be a model.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Remember when we were fourteen,” he yells, bracing himself against the wall, “and you got kidnapped by that monster?” Slightly soberer but still a little flushed, she bites her lip, nodding. “Well, I followed the rescue party--I told you that, that I snuck out of camp to follow the rescue party? Right?” 

“You did.”

He takes a sip of water, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth. Feels goofy as fuck. “We got hijacked by Aphrodite halfway through, and when I saw her, I thought--I thought, ‘Holy shit, she looks a little like Annabeth.’”

Her brows shoot up, smile pulling at her lips. “Really?”

He nods. “Totally! But you’re way, way p--” 

Still smiling, she silences him with a kiss, the lingering taste of hard cider on her tongue. “I appreciate it,” she murmurs, grinning, “but you probably shouldn’t say that out loud.”

“Gross.”

From out of nowhere, like he always does, the weasley little shit, Nico di Angelo is suddenly in their space, looking surly and emo as ever, red solo cup in his left hand. “Nico!” Percy crows, grabbing for him and missing. “How’s my favorite cousin?!”

Ducking his wildly swinging limbs, Nico grimaces in the way that Percy has to come to recognize as his attempt at a smile. “Better’n you,” he says, a little wobbly. “What’s up with him?” he directs towards Annabeth.

“Greek Fire bombs. Five.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

“What!” Percy pouts. “He insulted the Mets.”

“Aren’t you s’posed to be, like…” Nico snaps his fingers, words momentarily escaping him. “A--representation… person? For the Greeks?”

Percy waves his hand, hitting the wall. “Fuck that. The Greeks can handle themselves. The Mets are sacred!”

“Are you with anyone?” Annabeth asks, momentarily taking up Percy’s usual role of concerned parent friend while he is drunk off his ass. Theoi, he loves this girl so much. 

Nico shakes his head. “No, but Will and I are staying with--”

A thought suddenly blooms in Percy’s tequila-soaked brain. “Nico!” He shouts.

“What?” he hisses, glaring.

Percy pushes himself off of the wall, outstretched arms managing to box Nico in, falling on his shoulders and trapping him. He’s still a short, skinny little shit, the fuck, when are his Big Three genes going to kick in? “I need to talk to you about the thing.”

“The what?”

“The thing! The--the,” then he leans in, scream-whispering over the pounding bassline. “The thing.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“You know, it’s…” Percy licks his lips, language escaping him for a hot second. “Round. Metal. Jewelry thing.”

A beat, then Nico’s eyes widen. “Oh, that thing.”

“Yes, that thing!” Pulling back, he pulls Nico towards him, slinging an arm over his shoulders in a half-headlock. Annabeth watches, bemused, lips pursed as she tries not to smile. “I need to borrow Nico for a sec,” he says, words spilling out of him. “Back soon. Later. Soon.”

Her eyes crinkle, grey sparkling. She’s so fucking pretty. “Drink your water.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Then together, like some three-legged beast, the two boys lurch away deeper into the party, Nico leading them towards the kitchen. “Where’re you taking me?” Percy slurs. “‘M I being kidnapped again?”

“If I’m helping you plan out this stupid proposal,” he grumbles, pouring himself more vodka, “then I need to be less sober.”

***

Some mistakes may have been made.

“Where’s Annabeth?” Percy mumbles, looking back towards the house. The party is still raging, someone’s muffled Spotify playlist making a real racket, the greatest hits of ABBA still bouncing around his skull.

“Simp.” Nico, swaying a little, tries to stand up from his kneeling position, only to fall heavily back down on his knees. “She’s right where you left her.”

Discussing Percy's proposal plan had led to more drinking. More drinking had led to the two of them discussing their shared preference for blondes. (“Malcolm is pretty cute,” Nico admitted, flushing, and Percy almost screamed, “Isn’t he?! Sometimes I think about Annabeth with short hair looking like Malcolm and I almost start crying because she’d be so cute!”) Which then led to even more drinking. Which then led to general bitching about their lives, about Percy's hard-ass classics professor Dr. Bauer who he actually really liked but just pushed him so hard and expected so much of him, and Nico's half-brother Zagreus who was causing some family drama by picking fights with Hades all the time and also hooking up with both Thanatos AND the fury Megaera, which, ew, which then led to Percy inhaling his drink, nearly choking to death on unspecified college punch, Nico laughing at him all the while, as he had the most incredible idea.

"Nico!" He shouted, crushing the red solo cup. "Can you resurrect Homer for me?"

Nico gaped, staring. "What."

"Seriously! I need to ask him something for my paper."

"Percy." Nico gazed at him, all the power of the Ghost King boring into his soul, deep and haunting. Percy stifled a burp. "You're a fucking genius."

Which is how they found themselves around a shallow hole they had dug in the backyard, a large bottle of Pepsi originally intended as a mixer pilfered from the kitchen along with two slices of pepperoni pizza dumped on the grass beside them.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," he says, uneasy even through his drunken haze.

"It was your idea!"

"I don't have good ideas."

“Fuck you, I’m doing it.” With all the force of a tiny, angry kitten, he snatches up the Pepsi bottle, wrestling with the twist cap for a good ten seconds. “I wanna give that bitch a piece of my mind for making me cry in school.”

Percy looks at him sideways. “Hector killing Patroclus got you, too?”

He snorts. “Fuck no. Achilles didn’t pay his dues to the dead.”

“Seriously?”

The cap pops off, and Nico tips the bottle over, dumping flat, lukewarm soda into the shallow hole. “It’s the ultimate dishonor!”

Freak. Percy would die for the kid.

“Let the dead taste again,” Nico mutters. “Let them rise and take this offering. Let them remember.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Says the guy who’s related to both horses and water.”

“I’m not related to water, I just control it.” 

The dirt turns black, dead soil mixed with sticky sugar water. Nico drops in the pizza, and begins to chant, that same ancient Greek that Percy heard in a dream once, talking of death and memories and returning from the grave or whatever. It’s still creepy as shit. 

Despite the warm California night, the air thickens with chilly fog. Silence, impenetrable, surrounds them, blocking out the noises of the party. From the earth, blueish, vaguely person-shaped figures begin to form, like thunderous clouds before a storm. “Which one is Homer?” he asks, hushed.

“Shh!” Nico hisses. 

Like little wells of gravity, the fog begins to coalesce. On one of them, Percy can almost make out, like, fingers. “Um, Mr. Homer? Sir?”

The figure doesn’t say anything. It lowers its mouth, drinking the soda out of the dirt. When it raises its head, Percy can see it more clearly, curly hair and milky white eyes and a straight nose. It--he?--seems a little more solid than your average run-of-the-mill ghost.

Nico frowns, eyes closed, concentrating. “What’s your name?” he mumbles. 

That mouth opens, soundlessly, jaw working on nothing.

“Speak.”

It--there’s a sound, like hissing, only it’s not coming from the mouth, Percy thinks. It sounds like it’s coming from the earth. “Nico?” he asks. “You good?”

The ghost opens its mouth again, moaning, raising its hands. Weakly, unsteadily, it stumbles forward on feeble legs, tripping over the shallow hole in the dirt.

“Nico?” he asks again, a little more forcefully. “What’s going on, dude?”

Nico blinks, slowly, mouth hanging open a little. “Uh.”

The… thing… raises itself up on its hands? He guesses, and knees, crawling its way over towards them.

Now, Percy may be drunk off his ass, but he has seen enough movies to know exactly what the fuck is up.

Moving with a speed he didn’t quite think was possible right about now, he grabs Nico’s wrist, and pulls him up, dragging him along as he lurches towards the house. “Percy…” Nico moans, stumbling over a rock. “I think I fucked up.”

“You think?” Percy wrenches the door open, tossing Nico inside, before following in after, throwing himself against the door. 

Nico groans, throwing his arms over his face. “Dio santo, my head.”

“Forget your head,” he says, “did we just raise a Homer zombie?!”

Panting, Nico stares up at him, sprawled on the floor of the house. “Oops.”

Percy thunks his head against the door. He does not have nearly enough mental capacity to deal with this right now.

But, he thinks ruefully, at least it’s just one. Even drunk, he’s pretty sure he can handle one zombie.

Nico’s eyes widen. 

Percy stares. “What.”

“I didn’t stop the ritual.”

His stomach goes cold.

Turning around slowly, he pulls aside the little curtain on the window. “What?” Nico asks. “What do you see?”

Percy can’t speak, mouth dry.

Slithering up behind, Nico peers over his shoulder. “That’s… not great.”

“Nico,” Percy says, eyeing the horde which slowly shambles closer, half-decayed bodies in togas bumping into each other, almost identical to the drunk college students inside, as the song changes, once again, to ‘Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight).’ “Please go get Frank and Annabeth.”

The following Monday, an announcement is sent out to the entire campus: Per new department guidelines, students may not utilize the ambassador of Pluto to interview the dead for academic purposes.

3)

Percy attempts to flatten his hair. He readjusts his shirt. He almost wipes his sweaty palms on his pants, before he realizes what he’s doing, and clenches them instead, nails digging into his palms. He turns to Annabeth. “Do I look okay?”

“Ooh, ‘Mapping Funerary Monuments in the Periphery of Imperial Rome.’”

“Annabeth.”

She looks up from her brochure. “Relax, seaweed brain, you look fine. You look better than most people here.”

“That’s because I bring down the average age of presenters by about thirty years,” he hisses, eyes darting about at the milling mass of attendees, all packed into the hotel ballroom. 

Dr. Bauer had alternately convinced/pressured/guilttripped him into attending this year’s annual conference for the Society of Classical Studies to talk about the research he’d been doing with her. This year, the conference was held in San Francisco, so at the very least Percy didn’t have to spend five hours stressing about his poster presentation while simultaneously up in the air. But now that he’s here, in the ballroom, surrounded by strangers who know way more about this subject than he does, who are actually smart and probably never nearly flunked out of school or got kicked out or--

“Hey.” Annabeth takes his hand. “I know that look. You deserve to be here just as much as any of them.”

“Do I? I feel like any moment someone is going to come over and throw me out for trespassing.” He vaguely recalls something similar happening to him as a kid after he had ducked into the lobby of a semi-nice hotel to dodge what he had thought, at the time, was just a weird stalker, but had later realized had only had one eye. In any case, the hotel security guard had practically picked him up by the scruff of his neck, tossing him back out into the street. 

“That’s just your imposter syndrome talking,” she reassures him. “No one is going to throw you out.”

He sure as shit hopes so. It would be a shame to have done all this work for nothing. 

Glancing back at his poster, Percy can’t help but feel… good. Accomplished. Proud. About a school assignment, of all things. 

His poster traces the development of the prow from the Greek penteconter, to the Roman liburna, and finally to the Byzantine dromon, looking at artistic depictions in history. Percy had picked the topic himself, spending hours in the library reading, writing, and hand-drawing cross-sections of the ships on the poster board when the images he had gotten from the Cambridge University library had been too small. It had been grueling, frustrating work, but fun, too. And not nearly as much reading as he had feared.

Dr. Chase proofread it for him. Dr. Bauer signed off on it. And Annabeth had taken one look at it, smiled, then kissed his cheek.

That was the best compliment he had gotten.

Though now he’s kind of torn between showing it off and hiding it away before one of these attendees figures out that he doesn’t belong.

He rocks back and forth and his feet, pursing his lips, randomly clicking his tongue. Annabeth nudges him. “Your ADHD is showing.”

That’s when, finally, one of the attendees steps up to his poster. He certainly has the look of a professor, in a black cable knit sweater with grey, curly hair and a receding hairline, thin, rimless glasses perched on his nose. He squints at Percy’s poster, rubbing his chin with one hand. “Interesting,” he murmurs, in a thick German accent. “Very interesting. This is yours?”

“Um.” He glances at Annabeth, who is frowning at the brochure, silently sounding out words that she can’t read. “Yep. All mine.”

“Very interesting.” He leans in closer, tilting his head. “So you agree with Pryor and Jeffreys about the skeleton-first construction, then?”

Percy blinks. Pryor and Jeffreys had written The Age of the Dromon, arguing that the ram, which had been a key feature of Roman liburnians, had gone away in ancient ship construction because of developments in how they built the hull. Right. “Yes,” he says. “The skeleton-first construction is a lot stronger than the, um,” shit, what was the name for this, Leo had only told him about a million times--oh! “Mortise-and-tenon!” He nearly shrieks. “The mortise-and-tenon method. It, um, it wears out a lot more quickly than the frame, so… yeah.” He clears his throat.

He nods. “Very interesting.” 

Percy stares. Can this guy say anything else? 

“This is very well done, young man.”

Oh. “Thank you,” he says. 

“Who are you working with?” 

“Um, June Bauer?” He winces at the accidental question. 

He frowns. “I’m not familiar with her work. Where does she teach?” 

What a loaded question. “Uh… New Rome University.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s--she used to teach at Northwestern, if that helps. Um, retired,” Percy says.

The frown stays, but at least he doesn’t ask any more questions. “Hmm. Well, this is excellent research, nonetheless. I look forward to reading your dissertation.” Then, distracted by something else, he wanders off, chin still attached to his hand. 

“Who was that?” Annabeth asks. 

Percy shrugs. “Beats me. Also, what’s a dissertation?”

“It’s like a senior thesis, but, like, five hundred pages long.”

Five hundred?! “Fuck me.” 

“Maybe later,” Annabeth smirks. “It looks like you’ve got company.”

Sure enough, a smallish group of four people are approaching, led by Dr. Chase, making a beeline straight for them. “Here we are,” Dr. Chase says, gesturing. “This is the project I was telling you about. Percy, would you mind going over your poster for us?”

“No problem, Dr. C,” says Percy, smiling his least-grimace-y smile. 

As one, the adults all turn to look at him, faces politely blank, expectant.

Percy swallows. “So,” he begins, “um, this research is about the development of ship construction in the Roman empire…”

He trips up on some of the words, and at one point, he sees Dr. Chase squint in the way that usually means that Percy is speaking too fast, but all in all, he doesn’t totally fall flat on his face. His audience looks engaged, nodding along as Percy moves from point to point, and no one accuses him of being a giant fraud, which is pretty nice. 

At one point, Percy turns to the poster to indicate a specific point on his ship diagrams. When he turns back, his audience has suddenly multiplied, four people turning into a whole goddamn crowd. Each person gives him their undivided attention almost unblinking.

His mouth goes dry. “Um…” 

Dr. Chase, bless him, saves his ass once again. “Would mind starting again from the beginning, Percy?” he asks, a little bemused himself at the amount of people that had suddenly appeared. 

Silence stretches on for a moment, the muffled noise of the rest of the conference like a dull roar in his ear. 

Annabeth, behind him, coughs. 

“S-sure. No problem.” 

Swallowing, he closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose. Why, oh why did he let Dr. Bauer talk him into doing this again?

He pictures the tides of Long Island Sound, gentle and rocking, unhurried and unbothered, tries to match his breathing to them. When he opens his eyes, unfortunately, the crowd hasn’t disappeared. Everyone is still staring at him. 

But Annabeth stands next to her dad, flashing him a big smile and two huge thumbs up.

Percy relaxes. He’s got this.

“Okay,” he says. “So, about the middle of the first millennium CE, ship construction went through a couple of major developments…”

This time goes much, much more smoothly. He’s not sure what it is--though it’s probably Annabeth, her face fixed in a gentle smile as she watches him speak. Gods, what did he do in a past life to deserve someone as amazing as his girlfriend? 

That’s the only reason he can do this. Hell, that’s the only reason he even thought to do this. If he didn’t have Annabeth there, encouraging him, cheering him on, he never would have had the confidence to put himself out there like this. She’s there to pick him up when he doubts himself, there to listen when he can’t explain himself, there to give him feedback when he needs to practice. 

She makes him feel so strong. She makes him feel like he can take on the world--or at the very least, that he can impress a handful of academics.

And they certainly seem impressed with his talk so far. 

“Excuse me,” says a nasally, pinched looking older British guy, face lined as though he lived his life in a state of perpetual squinting. “I find your conclusions to be suspect--wouldn’t the frame method be more susceptible to breaking than the mortise-and-tenon?”

Well, most of them, anyway.

Percy shakes his head. “You’d think, but no. If you look at the study by Steffy, you’ll see that the three-finned ram from the Athlit wreck was designed specifically to break the mortise-and-tenon hull by causing the planks to flex, so that they’d dislodge the joinerys right next to them. A blow like that can cause the wood to split right down the middle.” A blow like that had sunk Sherman Yang’s ship when they tested it out on the lake at camp last summer, the naiads practically hurling him out of the water so quickly Percy didn’t even have to dive in to save him.

“How were you able to do these strength tests?” asks another listener, an older woman with a thick Hungarian accent.

“Hands-on battle simulations,” Percy replies, easily. “We took our models and tested them in as accurate a simulation as we could make.”

“And how big were these models?” 

Percy holds his hands apart, a vague, entirely inaccurate estimate. “About thirty meters, give or take.”

Her eyes widen. “How on earth did you get your hands on such a large ship?”

Percy freezes. “Uh.”

Oh, shit.

He had forgotten--most people didn’t have dads who could summon shipwrecks from the bottom of the sea, dropping them off at Camp Half-Blood with nothing but a sand dollar and one or two exhausted, pissed off hippocampi who had had to drag them all the way there.

“Um,” he stammers, licking his lips, thinking fast--c’mon, Percy, think! “I…” He swallows, panicking. “I… b… built one.”

In the corner of his eye, Annabeth facepalms.

Simultaneously, every mouth in the crowd drops--in shock, outrage, and even excitement. “You built one?!” the woman yelps. 

Oops. “I had help,” Percy says, quickly. 

Annabeth adds a second hand to her facepalm.

“Where?” The first man asks, his bushy brows flying above the rim of his glasses.

“At my… summer camp…” 

Dr. Chase sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I mean,” Percy chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, trying not to sweat too obviously, “it was either that or lanyards, am I right?”

Dr. Chase, thank Athena, raises his hand, ready to step in. “What Percy means to say, I believe,” he says, attempting to draw their attention, “is that--”

“That’s amazing!” says another woman, probably a grad student attendee based on the fact that she’s wearing jeans. “Do you have pictures?”

Oh this is not good. “Um, not--not on me, but--”

“I do.” Annabeth takes out her phone, holding it up to the person next to her.

Percy blinks. “You do?” He doesn’t remember her taking any pictures.

She shoots him a look, two parts exasperated and one part “shut up and let me handle this,” with just a dash of fondness in the mix. Pointedly, she looks at him, eyebrows raised, indicating that he should continue.

Oh. She’s using Mist. And he needs to keep their attention on him so that they buy it. “Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Any more questions?” 

His audience placated for now, passing around Annabeth’s phone, he manages to finish up his presentation. After fielding a few more questions, people start to peel off, distracted by other posters and presenters in the ballroom. When everyone has finally wandered away, Dr. Chase comes up and pats Percy’s shoulder awkwardly. “Nice work,” he says, and he seems like he means it. “A little touch-and-go there for a while, hm?”

“A little.”

He chuckles. “Still, you should be proud. I don’t know how many undergraduates would be able to handle that kind of pressure.”

“I mean,” Percy says, shrugging a shoulder, “it’s about on par with leading an army. Maybe a little less.” Honestly, maybe even a little more stressful. If a monster had decided to attack the convention center and interrupt his presentation, he probably would have been relieved.

He’d been worried for a moment that he’d undone all those years of work in making Annabeth’s dad like him. And that he’d be charged with some sort of academic fraud, for the whole “I have a boat” thing without proof. Thank the gods for Annabeth, as always.

She’s looking at him now through narrowed eyes. She at least can’t be surprised--that was far from the dumbest thing she’s ever seen him do. At least his “I spent most of my time at magic greek mythology summer camp” covers are normally better than hers. As someone who spent his formative years in the real world, he’s usually pretty good at keeping the demigod thing under wraps. 

“Come on,” she says, grabbing his hand. She pulls him off, through the dispersing crowd, lacing their fingers together, sweet and intimate, out of the hall and then down another one, and through a smaller corridor. Bringing them up to a little door, with a shake of her wrist, she pulls out her Estruscan keyring bracelet. About several of the keys have found themselves used in various misadventures, vanishing once their purpose is fulfilled, but her favorite key is still there. And, just like a clever child of Hermes, it can pick just about any lock. 

Inside is just an empty room, a little staging area surrounded by tiered desks going up, no more or less remarkable than any of the other conference rooms they’d visited before. 

“What--?” His question is cut off by Annabeth’s mouth on his. 

Surprising, but definitely not unwelcome.

It's a while before they separate again. “You’re so good at this,” she tells him, unbuttoning his shirt.

He runs his hands along the lines of her flanks. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he grins. He’d practice kissing her all day long if he could. 

She smiles, shaking her head. “No, not this,” though she does lean in for another kiss, pulling at his lower lip with her teeth. “I know you’re good at this.” They break away, Percy pulling her shirt over her head, Annabeth shucking off his. “But history. Presenting.” She runs a finger over his chest, kissing his cheek, headed towards the sensitive spot on his jaw. “Gods, you’re so smart.” 

Something about the praise vibrates through his chest. She doesn’t sound surprised, or anything, just--turned on.

“You had all those crusty academics eating out of your hand. Just, so impressed by you, knowing you know way more than they do about naval history. When you were explaining the--” Her compliment is cut off with a moan, as he leans down and starts sucking on her throat. Her blouse has a high neck, so he feels no guilt for using his teeth.  

“Watching you today, gods.” Her breath is labored as his fingers play at the waistline of her skirt. “And then thinking of you defending your dissertation.” He bites at her jugular, and she lets out a long, deep moan. 

“I don’t know what that means.” Do academics fight each other? Like, with weapons? He’s pretty sure he can take most of the people he met today. 

“It means you get to show off how smart you are,” Annabeth says, grasping his shoulders, pulling him in for another kiss. “I was born the day my dad defended his. Gods, it's going to be amazing to watch you go.” She yanks his belt out of his pants, tossing it to the floor. 

They miss the panel on recent translation efforts. But Percy can’t say he minds one bit. 

And when Annabeth presents him with a positive pregnancy test two months later, Percy definitely knows he made the right decision. 

4) 

He almost doesn’t realize he’s having a dream-vision at first.

It has been literal years since he’s had a demigod dream. Hell, it’s been a long while since he’s had a dream, period--being a new dad to a one-and-a-half-year-old saps too much of his energy to even think about dreaming. Once Junie is put to bed, when he’s out, he is fucking out, and he does not have the brainpower to spare to manifest any messed up subconscious fears.

Which is why when he blinks open his eyes, taking in the too-bright colors of the Parthenon and the gleaming shine of the bronze statues which are somehow all looking at him--also, you know, how the Parthenon is complete, standing as it did thousands of years ago, and not crumbled into ruins--he knows, immediately, he is being contacted by a god.

And only one god in particular would bring him to Athens.

Without even checking, he heaves himself up off the ground, folding into a kneel. “My lady Athena,” he says, “can I ask for what quest you’ve brought me here?”

“Impertinent as ever, Percy Jackson,” rumbles the goddess, but Percy doesn’t think he can sense any ill will towards him. He hopes, anyway. “Perhaps I have summoned you here for a social visit.”

“Perhaps,” he says, choosing his next words as carefully as possible. “But I assume you have too much to worry about to randomly check up on your daughter’s boyfriend.”

He lifts his head, catching her expression--stoic as always, but maybe with just the barest hint of a smile. “You assume correctly. You have become, contrary to my initial expectations, very wise in the time that I have known you.”

“Thank you.” He knows better than to do anything but accept the compliment for what it is.

“I have observed your work as a scholar in recent years, and I must say that I am surprised, yet pleased, that you have chosen to pursue such a path. I had not thought you to be suited for a world of old men and dusty papers.”

He grits his teeth. Don’t rise to the bait, don’t rise to the bait, don’t rise to the bait--

“I understand, as well, that though you and my daughter have,” and here her careful composition cracks, just the slightest, the tiny lift of her lips falling, “made a child together.”

Percy swallows. He figured, you know, in the abstract, that Athena would know about Junie, but hearing her say it out loud is… well, he’s just glad that Dr. Chase has always liked him. “Yes, my lady.”

“It is customary in your time to marry prior to childbirth, is it not?”

“It is.” Oh, fuck, is she going to smite him for that? “I--that is to say, we, Annabeth and I, we, um, we definitely want to get married, but, Annabeth kind of…” 

He trails off. He can’t tell Athena, goddess of war, that his daughter pissed off the queen of heaven! And if he does, he definitely can’t imply that it was because she was being too stubborn!

“I know well of my daughter’s history with my father’s wife,” Athena says, smoothly. “I come to you now with an offer of peace.”

Percy straightens his back. Peace?

Raising one graceful arm, Athena turns, indicating the structure behind her. “Look upon my temple,” she intones. The white marble shines even more powerfully against the blue and red paint, intricate scenes and figures ringing the top of the columns. “In the time of Pericles, it was built to commemorate the victory of Hellas over the armies of Xerxes the Great. It was to be the shining beacon of our world, a triumph of our power and influence over the race of men.”

The race of men might have had something to say about that, he thinks to himself.

“But it was not to be,” Athena says, mournfully. “As our influence waned, so too did our temple, until its might was all but forgotten.” 

Before his eyes, the paint fades away, ceilings and columns collapsing, the destruction of the Parthenon playing out in front of him. 

“Some two hundred years ago,” she says, her voice taking on a darker, more dangerous tone, “a grave insult was paid to the ruins of my ancient sanctuary.” Like curtains falling on a stage, darkness swallowed up the structure, swift and impenetrable. “Many treasures were taken from my temple, stolen, by foolish, greedy men, spirited away far to the north, where they have languished in unworthy hands.”

He narrows his eyes. She can’t possibly be talking about--

Athena turns back to him, her eyes blazing, somehow twice as tall. “Retrieve my treasures,” she commands, war personified, “return the prizes of Athens to their rightful place, and I shall give you my support against my father’s wife.”

“You…” Percy leans back on his haunches, staring dumbfounded up at the goddess. “You don’t happen to mean the Parthenon Marbles, do you?”

“Yes.”

“The ones in the British Museum.”

“The same,” she says, imperious as ever.

Fantastic. “Welp,” Percy says, slapping his thighs, scrambling up. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to decline. Nice seeing you, by the way. I’ll tell Annabeth you stopped by.”

Her sharp gazes pierces him, full of fury. “You dare to refuse my support?”

He snorts. “When it means trying to get the UK to give the marbles back, absolutely. Do you know how stubborn they are about this?”

Lightning flashes behind her, nearly blinding him. “You will regret this,” Athena says, dark and foreboding. “You may have your father’s goodwill, but the queen of Olympus is clever and cunning, her displeasure swift and merciless.”

But Percy still shakes his head. “When Annabeth and I get married,” and it’s definitely a ‘when,’ it’s just a matter of when precisely, like after Junie can sleep through the night maybe, “I’d rather take my chances with Hera than try and untangle that particular can of olives.”

A growl, and a snap of her fingers, and Athena disappears.

With a start, Percy wakes up. Junie had gotten her chubby little hands around his nose, and had decided to pull.

“Ow, ow, Junie, hey,” he squawks, attempting to dislodge her grip from his face. “Hey, I’m awake, it’s okay.”

She laughs, illegally adorable, her grey eyes sparkling, squeezing harder. 

“Okay, okay,” he laughs along with her. “You got my nose, you win.”

As if she were waiting for him to admit defeat, she lets go, clapping her pudgy toddler hands together. 

“That’s right,” he picks her up, raising her above his head. “Barely sixteen months old and you already know how to take me down, don’t you? Just like your mommy.”

She smiles, waving her little fists.

Gods he loves this little monster.

Junie really is the best parts of both of them. She’s got her daddy’s hair but her mommy’s brain, quick and sharp and painfully adorable. She’s already learning to read Greek, Annabeth sitting her in her lap and sounding out vowels together, Annabeth taking her finger and tracing it over the letter shapes. This kid absorbs information like a sponge, which Percy can only assume is the natural conclusion of taking a son of Poseidon and a daughter of Athena and mixing their DNA together. 

Thinking about his dream, he frowns. “What do you think, Junie,” he asks his toddler. “Should I take her up on her offer?”

The baby says nothing.

“I mean,” he tilts his head, “Greece has been trying to get the marbles back for two hundred years. UNESCO has top lawyers on this. What does Athena think I can do?”

Junie blinks at him.

“On the other hand, I do really love your mom,” he admits, “and I really want to marry her. You’d like that, right? To have your parents be married?”

There’s no way she can understand what he’s saying, but she moves her head like she’s nodding. Or maybe she does understand. She is Annabeth’s daughter after all. 

Percy sighs. Dammit.

Time for a new project, he guesses.

***

Several months, a college graduation, and one relocation to Boston later, Percy growls, hurling his pencil at the wall. Mother fucker. Fuck the British Museum, fuck his tiny laptop screen, and fuck the Italian prick who decided to have the least ADHD-friendly handwriting of all time. 

Why the hell is he doing this again? Like, seriously. Why in all of Hades is he, an inexperienced, snot-nosed, first year master’s student deciding to tackle the return of the fucking Parthenon marbles of all things. Like, what is wrong with him? 

Roughly scrubbing his fingers through his hair, Percy stands up. He has to go for a walk, clear his head, or he might actually explode. 

Then he catches a glimpse of the photo pinned to the fridge.

Percy’s mom had taken it, a candid of Percy and Annabeth and Junie on a sunny day in Central Park. There, in perfect 1080p, Junie is laughing, at what he can’t even remember, her pudgy fists yanking on Percy’s hair, while her mother and the love of his life does nothing to extricate Percy from her grip, her face screwed up so hard she had tears in her eyes. 

Percy had talked a lot of shit to the goddess of war’s face, but truth be told… Hera still terrifies him a little. Which, he assumes, was her goal all along, but it would be nice to marry Annabeth without fear of something going terribly wrong--or, gods forbid, something happening to Junie. That simply was not a risk he was willing to take. Percy is content to spend the rest of his days as Annabeth’s life-partner and roommate, if it means that the queen of the heavens won’t have a reason to take out her issues on his children.

Even if the engagement ring in the back of the pantry is gathering dust. 

Sunlight, wan but warm, falls in from the window, landing perfectly on his pile of open books. “I know, I know,” he growls, speaking to the air, rubbing his face so it doesn’t get stuck in a permanent glare. “I just--I just need a few minutes, okay? Let me go down the block and get a coffee or something. Two minutes, Lady Athena.”

The light fades. Percy takes that as an acquiescence, angrily scribbling a note. He’s not sure when Annabeth and Junie will be back, but even angry as he is, he doesn’t want to worry them.

Snatching up his jacket, he slams the door shut, stomping out of his apartment building and down the streets of Boston. He must be accidentally doing his wolf stare, because people are practically flinging themselves out of his path as he hurtles down the sidewalk. Literally--some girl is walking her husky, and the poor dog actually whimpers, cowering as Percy rounds the corner. 

Coming to a stop, Percy slaps his hands over his face, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. 

He might be in over his head a little.

Sighing, he looks to his right. He’s standing outside of a Starbucks. 

Percy doesn’t drink coffee, Annabeth does. And he knows exactly how much of a coffee snob his girlfriend is. Starbucks? Overpriced, overrated, over-sweetened garbage.

He pushes the door open, sliding up to the counter. “I’ll take a… iced mocha, I guess,” he says. “Large.”

“No problem,” chirps the barista. “I’ll have that out for you in a minute.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

One thing Starbucks does have going for it, though, are really good napkins for doodling.

Slumping down in his uncomfortable metal chair, elbows resting on the hard, faux-wood table, Percy takes out his pen, and doodles aimlessly on the brown napkins. No, not that pen. Just because it can write doesn’t mean that Percy wants to risk slicing his face open every time he has a stray idea. Completely out of the blue, Annabeth had gotten him a nice set of pens, and ever since then, Percy always keeps one on him. Now, if he could just remember to use the little notebook she had gotten him, too.

Percy is not an artist by any stretch of the imagination. He doesn’t have an image in mind, just lets his pen move, drawing endless chains of triangles and stars, nebulous shapes which form themselves into Greek letters. After he catches himself writing γλαυκῶπις for the eighth time in a row, he sighs, dropping his pen, and picks up the cup, taking a sip.

Yuck. At least the chocolate outweighs the coffee taste a little.

Gods, and their cups are always, like, drenched from condensation--not that Percy can feel it, but there’s practically a whole other drink on the outside of the plastic, dripping all over Percy’s pile of doodle napkins. That must be why they give out so many.

Grumbling, he mops up the mess, ink smudged into a blue-brown slurry.

He stops. 

He squints at one of his doodles. 

Not that anyone else could tell, but Percy had apparently been trying to recreate the signature of Ottoman sultan Selim III, the guy who had supposedly authorized the Earl of Elgin to take the Parthenon Marbles. Percy had been staring at copies of his signature all damn day, trying to tell if it had been forged or copied, but classical Arabic was just so far beyond anything he could even begin to wrap his head around. It was gorgeous work, but even looking at it made Percy’s eyes swim.

This particular doodle is not his best attempt. It looks nothing like the signature. It’s smudged, blotchy, but in a way that’s… weirdly familiar. 

Snatching the napkin up, Percy bolts from the Starbucks, leaving his mocha behind.

Taking the steps of his apartment building two at a time, he bursts into his kitchen. His set up is exactly how he left it, books spread out all over the table, laptop shut and laid askew, the dry, half-eaten remains of his morning muffin on a plate on top of his encyclopedia of illuminated manuscripts--except for one book, the one on Ottoman history of the nineteenth century. It’s been opened, its pages facing the door, in the exact opposite direction of all the other books. 

“Hello?” he calls into the apartment. “Anyone home?”

No response. 

Percy approaches the table. 

From the pages, Selim III stares at him, his portrait rendered in black and white, sitting just above a figure of his signature, his tughra. 

Percy picks up the book, squinting. 

The signature is crisp, clean, a work of art all by itself. 

He looks at his napkin drawing. Blurry and smudged.

Opening his laptop, he pulls up the scans of the documents in the British museum, zooms in on the letter’s seal.

Blurry and smudged.

Percy stares. 

It… can’t be that simple, can it?

In a daze, he fires an email off to his new grad advisor. Hopefully he won’t mind Percy sticking his nose in where he doesn’t belong. Hey Dr. T--was looking at the Parthenon marbles docs in the BM (don’t ask) and I noticed this weird smudge on the tughra. Lazy scribe, maybe?

And he closes his computer.

Later that night, while he puts Junie to bed, he gets a response. not sure. sent it to a colleague for a closer look. 

He can’t even be bothered to really think about it though, not with Junie looking up at him with Annabeth’s eyes, and asking for another book. “Alright, kiddo,” he acquiesces, settling in beside her. All her story books are in ancient Greek, and at age two, she’s starting to recognize the letters. “Which one are you thinking?” 

“Daw-fins, daddy,” she says, smiling.

“Dolphins, eh? Getting Mr. D on your side early, I see. As smart as mommy.” He leans down and kisses her forehead before he starts to read her the story of the sailors and their sudden dolphin madness. 

***

“Huh,” Percy says to himself a few weeks later, as he and Annabeth are chilling on the couch, watching some Netflix.

His advisor has forwarded him an article from the BBC (New evidence suggests Elgin documents to be forgeries) with an accompanying note: Amazing catch! 

“What is it?” Annabeth asks, nudging him with her elbow--a feat, since she also has an armful of a squirmy Junie to deal with.

“Update in the Parthenon marbles thing.”

That gets her attention. Anything Parthenon-related does. “Really?”

He shows her his phone.

Her eyes go wide as saucers. “Damn.”

“Yep.” He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he feels his lips pulling at the sides of his mouth. 

“My mom is probably your biggest fan right now.”

He starts. “What did you say?”

Turning back to the TV, she still manages to cast him a weird look. “I said, my mom will probably love you for this.”

A beat, then Percy practically somersaults over the couch, darting into the kitchen. Wrenching open the pantry door, he shoves his hand behind their collection of flours, fingers grasping for--

“If you’re looking for any more sacrificial cookies,” Annabeth calls after him, “we burned them all when Junie got a cold.”

“Remind me to make some more,” says Percy, pulling out his prize. It’s a little dusty, streaks of flour clinging to the blue velvet. “I have a feeling we’ll need them.”

“Oh yeah?” She chuckles. “What, did Olympus put in a special order?” 

Percy slides back down next to her, ring hidden in his closed fist. “Can I have the baby for a sec?”

Eyes fixed to the screen, Annabeth passes her over. Junie’s hands automatically reach for his nose, ready to grab, but Percy places the ring in her grasp instead, kissing her forehead. “Hey, babe?” he asks Annabeth, handing her back. “I think our daughter has something for you.”

Annabeth takes her without a second glance. 

Then she does take a second glance.

Ring closed in her pudgy toddler fist, Junie holds it out to her.

Annabeth gapes. 

“So,” Percy says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, “quick confession: I wasn’t just working on the marbles for fun.”

Annabeth just stares. Junie babbles.

“Your mom told me that if I helped get the marbles back, she’d back us against Hera if we ever got married. So…” He trails off, waiting for her response. As close as he is, he can see the tears start to well up in her eyes--a good sign. “Shall we?” he prompts.

“Oh thank all the gods.” Annabeth is crying, because she's Annabeth. And because she's Annabeth, she also wastes no time in transferring Junie to her other side, and holding out her hand so Percy can slide the ring on her finger. “I was so worried I'd have to have Chase on my Masters’ diploma, too.”

5)

Percy is making sauce when his phone lights up. He hits speaker. “Hey.”

“Hey man,” comes the tinny voice of Magnus. “Sorry I missed your call earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Percy says, “I figured you were dying or something.”

Magnus’ eye roll is almost palpable. “Very funny. What’s up?”

Bringing the spoon to his lips, he blows on it, taking a taste, before reaching for the salt. Needs way more. “Do you happen to have any Varangian guards in Hotel Valhalla?”

“Varangian guards? Uh, maybe. Probably. Why?”

“I’m doing a thing on the attempted reconquest of Sicily,” he says, lowering the heat a little to a simmer, “and I’m having some trouble piecing together the Battle of Montemaggiore. Know anyone who was in it?” 

Magnus hums. “I’ll ask around. Anyone in particular you’re looking for?”

Rifling through their little spice cabinet, he makes a mental note to get a new thing of hot sauce, tipping the rest of it into the pot. “If you have anyone who fought under Harald Hardrada, that would be great.”

“Hardrada? I’m pretty sure he lives on the fifth floor.”

Percy nearly drops the bottle. “No shit?”

“Big dude, long mustache, writes poetry?”

“Yes!” He picks up the phone, grinning from ear to ear. “Do you think I could come up and talk to him sometime?”

“Sure, but I thought you were doing something on Homer’s identity?”

He groans. “Backburnered for now until she stops driving me crazy.” No matter how many times Percy tells her, he can’t just drop the “Homer was actually an Egyptian woman” bomb without some serious evidence backing that up. And forgery is not one of his strong suits. Hence the need for a different topic for the time being.

“Has everyone ever told you your life is weird?”

“No, why do you ask?”

His phone suddenly vibrates, shocking him so badly he nearly drops it into the saucepan. Almost home, texts the love of his life, a shot of serotonin directly into his bloodstream. V hungry

“Sorry, Magnus, but I gotta run. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. Say hi to my cousin for me.”

“Can do.”

“And make sure you pick a date soon! Sam needs to know so she can schedule her flight home.”

“Soon as I can.” You know, when his brain isn’t melting from grading undergrad papers. And making sure Annabeth and Junie are fed. And that Annabeth doesn’t lose herself in graduate school. And finding Junie a new preschool after she destroyed a classroom last month because of a monster. His toddler is a badass. But he’s a little worried she’s gonna follow Mommy and Daddy’s example as far as school goes. 

Sometimes, he thinks that their wedding just won’t ever happen. With Athena on board, he figured it would happen sooner or later, but time just… keeps getting away from them. Which isn’t the end of the world. A lifetime at Annabeth’s side is all he really needs, Mrs. Jackson or no. But he’s seen the silver fabric she weaved for her wedding dress. It would be a shame for all that hard work to go to waste.

And, yeah, he wants to see his little Junie dancing down the aisle flinging seaweed before her mother. He wants his mom to cry a little and he wants all his friends to be there to celebrate with them. Is that so much to ask? 

Speaking of his two favorite girls--”We’re home!” Annabeth calls from the hallway. “Junie, go say hi to daddy!”

Her bare feet slapping against the floor, his daughter comes toddling in, making a beeline for him. “Hey, kiddo,” Percy says, scooping her up. “How’s my best girl?”

“She’s just fine, thanks,” Annabeth says, setting her work bag down on the table. “Tell me I don’t have to wait for dinner--Margie kept me for the entirety of my lunch break, and I am starving.” 

“Just gotta make a salad and we should be good to go.” But he makes no move to finish chopping vegetables, entirely too enraptured with the way Junie smiles when Percy sticks his tongue out at her. “Let me guess,” he says. “Does my best girl want some olives?”

“Peas,” Junie says. 

“Oh, you want peas instead?”

She giggles, waving her arms. “Elaia, daddy!”

“Fine,” and he kisses her nose. “Extra olives for you.”

“Chip off the old block,” Annabeth says.

Handing her back to her mother, Percy sighs. “When am I going to get a kid who likes anchovies?”

“I’m doing my best here, okay?”

***

Hardrada is… not what he expected.

“Reputation isn’t that bad.” Hardrada is saying. “The production isn’t what it should be, but lots of her lyrics are still on point.” 

“The production ruins it,” Percy insists. “And as a follow up to 1989? It's just bad.” 

“And what about Lover?”

“What about Lover?”

“You can’t argue with the genius of that one.”

“It is terribly inconsistent,” Percy shoots back. “Yeah, ‘The Archer’ and ‘Daylight’ and ‘Miss Americana’ are sublime, but ‘ME!’? Come on!”

“Are you one of those people who thinks she peaked at Red?”

“Red is a bop from start to finish,” Percy fires back. “But she definitely peaked at folklore.”

“Thinking she peaked at folklore is just pedestrian when ‘tis the damn season’ exists!” Hardrada yells, drawing his axe, which is then promptly flung over Percy’s head. 

As the only mortal in a room full of armed, excitable, undead Taylor Swift stans, Percy beats a hasty exit, Magnus and Jason covering him as he flees, because they’re just so thoughtful like that. Percy’s pretty sure he saw Magnus take an arrow to the knee, going down in a heap, before he shuts the door to the hotel, finding himself in a Forever 21. 

Looking over his notes later as he gets back to his apartment in the North End, he frowns. They had spent… approximately twenty minutes talking about Sicily before getting solidly off track. Who knew an eleventh century viking would have such intense feelings about pop music? 

And now he’s singing “seven” to himself as he unlocks the apartment door, because it's a good song, and because it made him think of Annabeth. And he always wants to think of Annabeth. 

“Hey, babe,” he calls into the apartment, toeing off his shoes. “I’m back!”

He gets no response.

Percy looks up, confused. “Annabeth?”

“In the bathroom,” he hears, faintly. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yep! Totally fine!” she says, unconvincingly. 

“Alright,” he calls back. “Let me know if you need something.”

Moving Junie’s toys out of the way, he drops down onto the couch, grabbing his laptop. Hopefully he can make some sort of sense of the… notes… that he got from Hardrada. Though he’s probably going to have to trek out to Beacon Hill again, which, while not really out of his way, does mean he has to hike a bit from the Park Street station through the Commons, which makes him super sweaty and out of breath. It’s just embarrassing, walking into a hotel full of the greatest warriors of Valhalla, and Percy can barely handle a hill. 

However, he’s not so out of practice that he can’t sense Annabeth coming up behind him. “You good?”

“What do you think about getting married by the end of the month?”

“Sure,” he says, pecking at his computer. Damn autocorrect ruining all the Norse names. He keeps forgetting to download the right language package he needs. “But I thought you wanted to wait until after you turned in your portfolio?”

“Well… I might not be able to fit in my dress if we wait much longer.”

That gets his attention.

Percy turns around, slowly. Annabeth is grinning, holding a thin little piece of plastic with a circle on the end. She wiggles it. 

“Is that…?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

Her smile falls. “Are you mad?”

“What? No!” Percy slides his computer off his lap, twisting around to face her, up on his knees. “No, no, not at all. I’m not mad.” She slings her arms around his neck, pregnancy test warm against his skin. “I just…” 

Eyes warm, she looks into his, unafraid. “What is it?”

“It’s…” It’s silly, is what it is. But this is Annabeth. If he can’t tell her, who can he tell? “I just feel bad that I’ve gotten you pregnant twice before getting married.”

“Well, at least I’m not nineteen this time,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “But maybe we wouldn’t have this problem if you weren’t such a horndog.”

Percy snorts. “Me? What about you, Annabeth ‘3 AM anal before my first lecture’ Chase.”

“Jackson,” she corrects.

“Huh?”

“It’s Annabeth ‘3 AM anal before your first lecture’ Jackson.”

Grinning, he presses his mouth to hers. After all this time, she still smells like lemons, her lips soft and warm. “Not yet it’s not.”

“Then let’s make it happen.”

And, well, Percy can’t think of a better plan.

+1

Jamie hisses. “Fuuuuuck,” she whispers, the sound dropping like a stone in the dead lecture hall. “Goddamn shit fuck ass.”

And the worst part is, she’d actually spent a lot of time preparing for her Latin midterm. She’d made flashcards, she’d drilled noun endings, she’d even slept with the textbook under her pillow for fuck’s sake. 

Typical--the moment she sits down to take the test, it all goes out the window. 

“Legistne carmen longum de Troiano,” she reads under her breath, as though saying it out loud will unlock some hidden secrets of the cosmos. 

Nope. Nothing. The multiple choices remain as inscrutable as ever.

“Psst.” 

Jamie looks up. 

There’s a four year old staring at her. 

“Hi,” Jamie says. 

“Hi,” says the four year old. Junie, her name is, she thinks. 

Mr. Jackson, Jamie’s Latin TA, will bring his kids to class with him sometimes--his wife works full time, and Jamie guesses that they can’t afford a babysitter. She’s a cute kid, quiet, usually sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, drawing or even knitting, sometimes with her little sister playing with toy ships next to her. 

Now, she’s still staring at her. “What’s up?” Jamie asks.

“Bello,” says Junie.

Jamie blinks. “Sorry?”

“Legistne carmen longum de bello Troiano.” 

She squints down at her test sheet, attempting to visualize her flash cards. That’s… “Bello” is the right answer.

The fuck? The fucking four year old can speak Latin? “Thanks,” she whispers. 

Junie beams at her.

Darting her eyes to the front of the lecture hall, Jamie spies her professor, Buck, completely conked out at his desk, his chest rising and falling with his snores. Percy is nowhere to be seen, his laptop open at his chair. “What’s the next one?” Jamie turns her paper so that Junie can see better.

“Pluto Proserpinam infelicem cepit,” she announces, perfectly accented.

Jamie points to the one after that.

“Rex qui pontem fecit erat Ancus Martius.”

“Awesome.” 

The door to the lecture hall opens. Jamie whips around in her seat, startled, and sees her TA, walking down the steps. From the corner of her eye, Junie disappears, booking it to her dad, who scoops her up without missing a beat. “Hey kiddo,” he murmurs, smiling crookedly. “Were you bothering my students?” Then he glances at Jamie. “Sorry about that--hope she wasn’t too annoying.”

But Jamie shakes her head. “It’s fine.” Dammit. 

Still smiling, Percy makes his way back down to his seat. Junie grins at her over his shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around her dad’s neck.

At the beginning of the semester, Professor Buck had droned on and on about Mr. Jackson, about how he was one of the best up-and-coming classics scholars in the world, how he could have had his pick of PhD programs, and how NYU was lucky to have him. He got first pick of assistantships this semester, apparently, but had volunteered to teach Latin 1001, and they should all be grateful, because he had done some beautiful new translation of Virgil for his Master’s thesis, and they were all going to learn a lot from him. 

Turning back to her exam, Jamie snorts. Of course a guy like that would have a kid who could speak perfect Latin. 

She really should have just stuck with German instead. 

#my fic #pjo #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #perseannabeth #darkmagyk #percy should be a classics major and here's why #the percy major for the stem hating author #also i feel like i have to say: #1) classics conferences are not like that #2) if only it were that easy to get the bm to return looted antiquities 🙄 #pjo fic #percabeth fic #percy jackson

[holden-caulfield]

For a Draco x reader, I don’t know if this plot is good or not. But it is just an idea that I have and if you feel like writing it I would be very happy because I really do like your work. So maybe something like Draco and reader started to slowly become friends and then hang out more and more. Draco feels happy with her and fall for her. He writes a letter to his mother telling all about a girl he met and how happy she makes him. Then Narcissa writes a letter to the reader and thanking her for making her son happy and she really hope to meet her soon. Reader is just confused and then go and look for Draco. He later then just confess his feeling for her and she feels the same. Would love to if you also wrote when the reader actually met Draco’s family and they all liked her a lot.

I'm honored to know you like my work, thank you sweetheart! Hope you'll like this one too!! I'm not sure this is what you wanted but i liked the concept of the flashbacks so i went with that :)

Perfect For Each Other

↪︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

SUMMARY: reader is about to meet draco's parents while recalling how she ended up there in the first place.

WARNINGS: i'm pretty sure there's none, flashbacks are in cursive. also, i'm actually quite proud of this one?? yeah.

WORD COUNT: 1378

//

How it all started. You would have never expected it honestly, to find yourself in front of Malfoy Manor, wearing your best dress to make a good impression, waiting to finally meet the mysterious parents of your boyfriend.

Draco had talked about them countless times, but you hadn't met them yet. Perhaps it was the lack of time, perhaps it was the fear that made you decline invite after invite, but Draco wanted you to be sure and waited. For you.

He always did, he always waited for you. That's one of the things you loved about him.

He always waited for you after class, when everyone else had already run towards the great hall to eat. He stood near the entrance, lazily leaning on the wall outside with his bag hanging over his shoulder. A small grin always spreading on his face whenever you would join him to go to lunch together.

He hadn't always been like this however, it took sometime, but oh boy was it worth it. He slowly opened up to you until you knew more about him than himself. You started hanging out together after class and during, which wasn't very appreciated by all the professors who constantly reprimanded the both of you.

But you couldn't care less, not when you loved him so much. Love, how weird. Were you really in love with your friend? Or was it just friendship, a really strong and fierce friendship?

You knocked on the door of the great mansion, Draco beside you hugging your side gently, squeezing lightly to relieve your nerves. You appreciated the gesture, but it wasn't enough sadly.

The door revealed a beautiful woman, her eyes matching Draco's perfectly, displaying a certain affection you would have never expected from a stranger.

Draco wasn't known to be very open with anyone; he only spoke with you, but only when he deemed it utterly necessary. Only with you and that made you feel special, or so you thought.

You slackly woke up and took your sweet time getting ready, it was saturday after all and that meant only one thing: relax.

You descended the stairs to the common room, finding it unsurprisingly empty. Even if you slept in, you were one of the first to wake up. You made your way to the great hall and made yourself comfortable at your usual seat.

The morning post arrived and, even though you hadn't expected anything, you saw a big elegant owl approaching you with a white envelope in its beak.

You took it carefully and let the owl take some of your breakfast from your plate before taking off again. As you opened it, you noticed the refined lining and the faint smell of vanilla it emanated.

Dear y/n,

my dear Draco has told me a lot about you, my name is Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother. I'm so glad to know there is someone there so close to him, that can guide him and be there whenever he needs.

I want to formerly thank you and wish you two the best, hopefully Draco won't annoy you too much. I know how he can be at times, but from what i've heard, i know you two will be perfect for each other.

Please take care and take care of him for me,

Narcissa Malfoy

You read the tiny sophisticated handwriting with an ever-growing smile on your lips, until a thought dawned on you: 'perfect for each other'.

What did she mean by that? What had Draco told her that he hadn't told you? Too many thoughts were running freely in your head to notice the hall slowly filling up.

"Hey, good morning. What do you have there?" a voice suddenly brought you out of your trance and, almost instinctively, you folded the letter in your hands.

"Nothing, just mail." you said innocently. You weren't sure whether you should have told him or not. If he really did feel something for you other than friendly affection, he should have told you. When he was ready.

Maybe you had just misinterpreted it, or maybe Narcissa did, nevertheless you wouldn't certainly have told him anything about it.

He eyed the letter, unconvinced, but sat down next to you nevertheless. As he did that, you immediately sprang up, startling him and everyone else at the table.

"I'd better go, many things to do!" you excused yourself and walked, rather quickly, out of the hall, trying to block out all of the confused gazes on you.

Your feet kept a steady pace as you reached the grounds, looking for a silent spot where to really think about the letter you had just received.

You re-read the letter, your eyes always freezing on the same spot: 'perfect for each other'. You started pacing back and forth until you got interrupted, once more.

"Has something happened, y/n?"

Narcissa greeted you cheerily, a polite smile imprinted on her face as she hugged Draco and then you, with such warmth you felt instantly at home.

"It's such a pleasure to finally meet you, y/n. Last time I had heard of you was so long ago, although Draco still tells me everything about you." Draco smiled bashfully as Narcissa led the two of you in the living room, "Maybe i should have just written you, but after last time, I wasn't sure..."

You shook your head quickly as you gazed into his grey eyes, worry etched into them.

"What is that?" Draco pointed to the letter again and you hid it behind your back, keeping your eyes on him. "You can tell me, y/n, you know you can."

You weighed your choices and decided it was better to tell him the truth, whatever the consequences.

"It's... it's your mother, she has sent me a letter..." Draco's usually light eyes darkened as something you couldn't quite place took over in his face.

"What did she say? Did she threaten you? That doesn't sound like mother but-"

"What?! No! No, nothing of that sort!" you quickly reassured him, "It's... she said you told her about... me."

Draco relaxed immediately only to tense up again a second after.

"And what did she say?"

"I need to ask you something, Draco." Draco gulped but didn't stop looking at you, nodding for you to go on, "What are we?"

Draco furrowed his brows at the question, letting a small nervous chuckle escape his lips, "Friends, aren't we?"

"And what would you like us to be?"

He stiffened even more, not sure what his answer should have been, truthful and potentially fatal or a lie.

"I think- I know I love you, y/n. Possibly more than a friend." you tried to stifle a smile but it was impossible and ran into his arms, startling him for the second time that day.

He hugged you back almost instantly, happiness flooding his senses at your unexpected reaction.

"Thank merlin, because i think i do too, you know?"

That was the start of it all, everything thanks to Narcissa, the woman you were now following through the huge halls of the manor.

You now knew Draco loved you, but meeting his parents, knowing they could have disapproved, still made your heart beat faster than usual and your hands clench around Draco's.

You reached an enormous room, with an expensive-looking couch in the middle and a few armchairs surrounding it. One of them was occupied by a blond man, uncannily similar to the man whose hand you were currently holding onto for dear life.

"Good morning, you must be y/n." he greeted, standing up from the chair and taking a few steps forward, extending the hand that wasn't holding his cane.

"Good morning, it's a pleasure meeting you mr Malfoy!" you shook his hand, trying to hide your excitement and, most of all, your fear.

"Draco told us about you, i must say you are quite different from how he pictured you." Draco squeezed your hand and you felt slightly better despite the horrible first impression you had just made with his father, "You are certainly prettier than what he told us."

You giggled lightly as Narcissa offered to take the conversation to the dining room. Draco hugged your shoulders while making your way towards the table and one of the nicest evening you ever had.

Narcissa was indeed right, you were perfect for each other.

//

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#draco malfoy #fanfiction #harry potter #draco lucius malfoy #fanfic #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco x y/n #draco malfoy fluff #fluff #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you

[waitimcomingtoo]

The Proposal ~ T.H

chapter one: the proposal 

Series Masterlist

As editor in chief of the most renowned book publishing company in the UK, you had a lot on your plate. Lucky for you, you had an assistant who fulfilled your every need.

“Assistant?” You called from your desk. “Where’s my drink?”

“Right here, miss.” Tom hurried to put a Starbucks cup in your hand. He watched you nervously as you took a long sip.

“No eye contact.” You reminded him, and his eyes quickly fell to the floor. “Not unless I initiate it first.”

“Right.” He nodded. “Sorry.”

“Did you read the manuscript I sent you last night?” You asked once you seemed to approve of the drink.

“Yes, miss.”

“All of it?” You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Tom took a large stack of papers out of his bag and carefully placed them on your desk.

“I highlighted the weaker paragraphs and put tabs on the parts that drag.” He explained as you flipped through the stack.

“Color coded tabs?” You asked.

“Pink for parts that need editing and red for parts that can be cut all together.” He nodded. Your lips tugged into a smile as you stopped touching the pages.

“Good boy.” You said without looking at him. Tom gulped and looked up at the ceiling so you wouldn’t see how flustered that made him.

“Thank you, miss.” He said weakly.

That was how your relationship was. You were the boss, and he made sure you were happy at all times. You had fired 15 assistants before you found Tom. Most ran from you in fear, but Tom had been putting up with you for two years now. It was hard work, but he enjoyed it.

“What did you think of the writing?” You asked him. Tom swallowed a little before giving you his answer.

“His dialogue was strong but it got preachy towards the middle.” He began. “The scene between Genevieve and Edward sounded like he was rewriting a past experience with an ex.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” You smirked. “Nice work, assistant. You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you.” Tom bowed before turning to leave your part of the office.

“Wait.” You called, making him freeze.

“Yes, miss?” He asked nervously.

“Why does my cup say “Tom” on it?” You asked as you turned the cup around to show him where his name was written.

“Um, that was actually my cup.” He explained. “That’s why.”

“And what happened to my cup?” You tilted your head.

“I spilled it.” He admitted. “I’m sorry, miss. It won’t happen again.”

“So you drink a matcha latte with soy milk and foam?” You raised your eyebrow. “Because this is the same as my order.”

“I do.”

“I thought you drank tea.”

“I drink that too.” He nodded quickly. “I just like matcha in the morning.”

“Do you?” You laughed a little, but it came off as a scoff. You liked to you with Tom because of how easy he made it.

“Of course.” He said. “I don’t just drink the same drink as you in case I spill yours. That would be crazy.”

“No one suggested you did.” You said flatly, and Tom realized he was caught.

“I…um.”

“Right.” You waved your hand. “Get out of my office, assistant.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s a great idea.” Tom gave you a thumbs up and quickly ran to his part of the office. He sat down in his desk and snuck a glance at you as you read over his work from the night before.

“Did you need something else?” You asked without looking up at him. Tom flushed again when you caught him staring and cleared his throat.

“Yes, miss.” He began. “I was wondering if you received my request to take next week off. I was going to go home to see my family.”

“Oh, right.” You remembered reading his email. “Do you really need a whole week?”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I haven’t seen them in a long time and it’s my little brothers birthday.” Tom explained. “It would mean a lot to them if I was there.”

You let out a loud sigh as you continued to read the manuscript, never looking up at him.

“I also haven’t taken a vacation in two years.” He added quietly. “Just to remind you.”

You finally looked up at Tom, who was sitting meekly with his hands folded on his desk, and let out another sigh. He was a great assistant who never talked back or asked for anything. He deserved a little time off.

“Fine.” You agreed. “You can go home. But I want the revised edits of the My Girl manuscript by the time you get back.”

“Yes, miss.” He broke into a smile. “Of course.”

“Now stop staring.” You commanded, and he quickly looked away.

You and Tom worked in silence for the next hour until he got a phone call.

“Miss L/n’s office, how may I help you?” Tom cheerily answered the phone. You snuck a glance at him as he nodded along to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“Yes, sir. Right away.” He said before hanging up. “Miss?”

“What now?” You sighed.

“You have a call from upstairs.” Tom explained. “They want to see you right away.”

You rolled your eyes and sat back in your chair. A call from upstairs meant the head of the publishing company, Mr. Reynolds, wanted to see you.

“All right.” You stood up and smoothed your skirt. “You know the drill. Get me in ten minutes with a call from-“

“Mr. Paxton.” Tom finished your sentence with a smile. “I know what to do.”

“Good boy.” You nodded at him. “But don’t cut me off again. Or I’ll cut that pretty little paycheck I give you. Got it?”

“Yes, miss.” He answered as you walked out of the office. You made your way to the office upstairs and threw on a smile before opening the door.

“Good morning, sir.” You greeted. “How can I help you?”

“Good morning, Y/n.” Mr. Reynolds smiled tightly. “Look, there’s no way to sugar coat this. You’re being deported.”

“What?” Your smile fell. “Deported?”

“We got a call from the IRCC.” He sighed. “Your visa is expired.”

“But I put in a request for a renewal.” You explained as you tried not to panic.

“It was denied.” He told you. “Apparently you haven’t filled out your paperwork in months. You missed several deadlines.”

You let out a loud sigh and sat in the chair in front of his desk. Me. Reynolds watched you sympathetically as you rubbed your face.

“So what happens now?” You asked sadly.

“You stayed in the country past 30 days of your visa expiring. That means you’ll have to leave the country for a year and apply for citizenship.”

“A year?” You exclaimed but quickly collected yourself so you didn’t look frazzled.

“That’s...that’s not problem.” You forced a smile. I can work from home. Most of what I do is online anyway. It’ll be fine.”

“I wish it were that easy.” He sighed. “You’re the best editor in chief we’ve ever had and it would kill us to see you go. But if you’re deported, you can’t work for an UK company. It’s not allowed.”

Before you could answer, Tom knocked on the door and stepped into the office.

“Excuse me, I have a call waiting for Miss L/n.” He smiled. “It’s from Mr. Paxton and it’s urgent.”

“Not now, assistant.” You waved him away in annoyance while you tried to think of what to do. Tom didn’t understand that you didn’t need to be saved from this meeting, so he went on with the plan.

“I can see that you’re already engaged but when you have a minute, Mr. Paxton really needs to speak with you.” Tom continued. Your head snapped up at his choice of words and suddenly, you had an idea. Tom looked at your curiously as you got out of your chair and motioned for him to come over to you. He reluctantly walked over to you and kept his distance, but you immediately pulled him closer and wrapped your arm around his.

“Mr. Reynolds , you don’t have to worry about replacing me.” You said. “I can assure you, no one is getting deported anytime soon.”

“Why’s that?” He asked. Tom looked at you in confusion and you gave him a sweet smile in return. You slipped your hand into Tom’s and rested your head on his shoulder, making Tom’s entire body tense up.

“Because Tom and I are engaged.” You lied through a smile.

“You are?” Mr. Reynolds asked hopefully.

“We are?” Tom sputtered with wide eyes.

“We are.” You said through gritted teeth, never losing your smile. “We are getting married. To each other. Out of love. And passion. And stuff.”

“Yeah. What she said.” Tom faked a smile as well as he tried to understand what was happening.

“Wow. Congratulations.” Mr. Reynolds applauded you. “I had no idea you two were together.”

“Well, we are.” You squeezed Tom’s hand and beamed. “We’re so excited. I can’t wait to be Mrs....”

You trailed off and looked to Tom for help when you realized you didn’t know his last name.

“Holland.” He finished your sentence.

“Holland.” You nodded. “Mrs. Holland. That’s me. Soon to be, anyway.”

“Well this would certainly solve the deportation issue. Just make it official and you’re in the clear.” Mr. Reynolds told you.

“We will. Bye now.” You waved and pulled Tom out of the office by his hand. You quickly dropped his hand and your smile as you walked back to your office.

“What was the about?” Tom whispered. “What deportation?”

“Keep your mouth shut and keep walking.” You seized his arm and pulled him to your office. You pushed him inside and shut the door behind the two of you, letting out a loud groan once you were alone.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” He asked you.

“No.” You said simply as rubbed your face.

“No?” He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

You glared at Tom for a minute as you reminded yourself that he was your only hope. You hated being vulnerable in front of people, but you desperately needed his help. Knowing there was no other option, you hung your head in shame and got ready to tell him the truth.

“Look, I’m not a UK citizen.” You admitted. “I came here on a student visa and I got it extended once I started working here but the embassy denied my recent request for another extension.”

“Okay. Great.” Tom said sarcastically. “What does that have to do with my hand in marriage?”

“I can’t work here without citizenship or a visa. But I could stay here if I was married to a citizen, like you.” You said like it was obvious. “And watch it with the sarcasm. I’m still your boss.”

“Sorry, miss.” He slipped back into his submissive role. “But why would you have to marry me? Can’t you just apply for citizenship?”

“Do you have any idea how long that takes?” You sighed. “And I’d have to leave the country for at least a year because I overstayed.”

“Where are you being deported to exactly?” He wondered.

“Canada.” You mumbled sheepishly. His cheeks puffed up as he tried to hold back laughter. He knew it wasn’t funny, but he had never seen you so vulnerable before. Something about you needing his help made him want to laugh.

“Are you laughing?” You sternly raised your eyebrows at him.

“No.” He said quickly. “I’ve never laughed. Not once in my whole life.”

“This is serious.” You raised your voice at him. “It’s my job. And it’s your job too.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re my assistant.” You reminded him. “If I’m fired, so are you. That means all the work you’ve done to get to where you are will go out the window and you’ll have to start over.”

“I can’t start over.” Tom panicked. “I put my whole life into this job.”

“Then you know what you have to do.” You shrugged.

“But we can’t just get married.” He laughed at the ridiculous situation.

“Why not?” You said dismissively. “We can just sign the papers at city hall and get divorced when this is all solved.”

“Are you forgetting this is a felony?” He asked you. “We’d be committing fraud.”

“Then we’ll just have to be extremely convincing.” You gave him as tight smile.

“And what if we’re not?” He asked as he got closer to you. “I could go jail. Why would I risk that just so you could stay in the country?”

You put your hand on your hips and stared at him, realizing he had a good point. He had a lot to lose if he helped you, so you had to level the playing field.

“I’ll make you editor.” You decided.

“What?”

“Thats what you want, right?” You asked. “What you’ve been waiting for?”

“Yes. I want it very much.” He said quietly.

“Then I’ll make you a deal.” You proposed. “If you marry me, I will promote you to editor.”

“You will?” He asked hopefully.

“I will.” You promised. “You earned it. And you’d be doing me a huge favor.”

Tom stared at you for a long time as he decided what to do. He was risking at least five years in prison for committing fraud, but that was only if you got caught. If he could convict the IRCC that he was your husband, he could become the editor at his dream job.

“Please.” You said softly when you sensed his hesitation. “You’re my only hope. I need you.”

Tom’s lips twitched into a smile as he came to a conclusion.

“I want a proposal.” He decided.

“What?”

“If we’re getting married, then I want a proposal.” He shrugged. “From you. Right now.”

“I am not proposing to you.” You scoffed.

“Then you’ll have to find a new husband.” Tom said simply. He turned to go back to his desk but you grabbed his arm.

“Wait.” You looked at the ceiling in annoyance, knowing there was no way around this.

“Yes?” He asked sweetly.

“Will you marry me?” You asked through a tight smile.

“Uh uh.” He said. “That’s not a proposal.”

“What am I supposed to do?” You whined. “Get down on my knees?”

Tom tweaked an eyebrow up and you took it as a yes. With a loud sigh, you got down on both knees in front of him and took his hand.

“Tom Holland,” you forced a wide smile, “will you please marry me?”

“It’s a pretty sight.” He smirked. “You on your knees.”

“Is that a yes?” You raised an unamused eyebrow.

“Yes.” He smiled. “Yes, I will marry you.”

Tag list 🏷

@awesomebooklover17​ @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @weirdr-artiest​ @serendipitous-amor @dummiesshort

@foreverxholland​ @lavender-writer​ @michaela072796​ @whatareyouhidingpeter​ @takenbyheartstrings​ @ultrunning​ @imyourliquor-youremypoison​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @waiting-to-be-myself​ @letsloveimagines​ @peterparkoure​ @a-villain-vying-for-attention​ @justcallmehitgirl​ @jackiehollanderr​ @tiny-friggin-human @mara-twins​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @maryjanee23​ @geeksareunique​ @emmamarshmellow​ @unbelievableholland​ @flixndchill​ @sovereignparker​ @thisisthebiplace​ @spideydobrik​ @every-marveler-ever​ @undiadeestos​ @caelestii-e​ @eridanuswave​​ @itscaminow​​ @fiantomartell​ @solarxmoonchild​ @canyouevencauseicant​ @illwritetomorrow​ @thehappygrungelife​ @saysomethingspiderman​ @smilexcaptainx​ @quaksonhehe​ @kelieah @kickingn-ames​ @seasidecrowbar​ @lovelessdagger​ @love-sick-blues​ @electraheart-3174​ @unbelievableholland​ @yourtypicalhotmess​ @spideyanakin​ @horanxholland​ @thesuitelifeofafangirl​ @marshxx​ @heyheycharlatte​ @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie​ @tomshufflepuff​ @cookiemonstermusic258​

@maybemona​ @alexxcorona113​ @lethal-wisdom​ @xo-spidey​ @big-galaxy-chaos​ @pandaxnienke​ @theincredibledeadlyviper​  @thestylestour​  @officialsimppage​ @mrvelscaptains​ @peterbenjiparker​ @itsemohours​ @okkulta​ @parkerlovebot​ @jungkxxkk​ @friendlyneighborhood-mendes​ @whatthefuckimbisexual​ @olixerwxxd​ @starkbrain​ @creatorofthegalaxy​ @thatwilbursootsimp​ @ilovefrogs1000​ @itstaskeen​ @itmatteredatthetime​ @wrendermeuseless​ @amazinggracy​ @iprobablyshipit91​ @magicalxdaydream​ @whereismytelephone​ @theonly1outof-a-billion​ @leilanixx​ @namoreno​ @bi-lmg @dracoswhore007​ @tomhollandloml​ @avengers-hamiltrash​ @sunshinepeterparkr​ @gh0stgurl​ @so-very-asleep​ @veryholland​ @white-wolf1940​ @spideycheles​ @firwproof​ @fanficaddict13125​ @pinklxmonade​ @thebestqueenoftheworld​ @nowayhomeparker​ @willowestelle​ @imobsessedzs​ @spideyspeaches​ @bookfrog242​ @hihiweezing​ @mathletemadison​  @chipot-lol​ @mackenziejanine​ @dhtomholland​ @peterstommy​ @insomniac-nerd-posts-things​ @prancerrparkerr​ @aayaissaa​ @loudthoughts-softspoken​ @starknik22​ @hallecarey1​ @tom-holland-is-bae​

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfiction #Tom Holland fake dating #tom holland fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #marvel

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Live Stream Murderer (Part 2) | Spencer Reid x reader

Requested by @thatsonezesty13 / Summary: You’re kidnapped by the Live Stream Murderer, who is in search of his soulmate. He tortures the women for 36 hours and whoever lasts that long is in his eyes; his soulmate. Will you make it through the 36 hours of torture? 

| Part 1 | 

A/N: here is part 2! Thank you for all the attention on part 1! I love seeing all the likes, reblogs and comments, especially the ones asking to be tagged so they don’t miss the next part! <3 hopefully you all enjoy this one as much as part 1!! xx 

*possible trigger warning and could spoil the ending of part 2 for you; blood, talks of death, description of a bloody and headless person 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

Your head was pounding, and you could feel your body was weak from the torture. How long had you been passed out? The last thing you remembered was a hot poker penetrating your side. There sitting in front of you was the man who would probably haunt your nightmares for forever.

He wore a sickening smile, “Hi.. I was wondering when you would wake up.” He stood up and held a red straw to your lips.

“Fuck you.” You whispered weakly. There was no telling what was in that drink and you weren’t about to find out. 

He frowned, “But you’ve made it 28 hours.. only 8 more and you’ll be,” His fingers went to caress your cheek, but you revolted at his touch, “my soulmate.” He said the last word like he was in a loving haze. 

You’d made it through 28 hours with this psychopath? You watched as the man went to the storage closet and pulled out multiple instruments and set them on the table next to you. He clicked a button on a remote and the camera in front of you flashed a red button. You figured it was live streaming now and there was a chance the whole world was watching this freak torture you; including Spencer. 

Oh, Spencer. Your heart felt overwhelmed at the thought of him. He’d suffered the loss of Maeve and you worried he would never recover. This was probably bringing those terrible emotions back to the surface. 

“I have to see if you can withstand more pain.” His voice was behind you and then a knife cutting the ties off your left arm. If you weren’t weak, you’d try to fight him with one hand, but with your injuries suffered so far and the knife still in your leg, there wasn’t much to do. 

“I have to see if you’re my soulmate.” His fingers gripped your upper arm, “This might hurt.” 

Your breathing increased as you wondered what was next. Your eyes fixated on the camera in front of you and you tried to focus on the one thing that made you happy. The one thing you loved most in this world. Spencer Reid. 

~ 

It was a trick you’d been taught during your training. You were keeping your mind preoccupied by coming up with various scenes, happy scenes. Spencer’s face crossed your mind and suddenly you were transported to a library. You were sitting across Spencer, books in front of the both of you. You could see him peeking every once and a while to look at you. You knew because you were doing the same thing to him. 

 “If you keep staring at me, we aren’t ever going to get this finished.” 

His fingers continued to dance across the page as he read and he gave a small smile, “I’m not staring at you.” 

“Okay.” You shut your book, amused, “Tell me what you just read.” 

His fingers stopped and he knew he’d been caught. He finally looked up at you, “I have no idea what I just read.” 

You let out a laugh, “Spencer Reid!” You stood, “We have to finish this paper for Dr. Johnson’s class!” Grabbing the two books on the table, you headed toward a row of library books, “These don’t have what I need.” 

In this imaginary world you and Spencer were young, college students. It was a normal life with no danger. No BAU. No cases. Just you and Spencer living a normal life. 

“I’m sorry!” He chuckles, standing to follow you. He stops behind you as you put the two books back on the shelves, “how am I supposed to concentrate when I’m in front of the most beautiful girl in this universe?” 

You turned around and faced him, “Spencer Reid.” 

“y/n y/l/n.” He copied your tone, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, “I love you.” Those three words. You wanted to hear it again. 

“Say it again.” Your fingers wrapped around his wrist as he cupped your cheek.

His other hand cupped your other cheek and subconsciously caressed your cheek with his thumb, “I love you.” 

~ 

You let out a scream as the man pulled on your arm, dislocating your shoulder from it’s socket. No no.. take me back. Take me back to standing there with Spencer in that library where you heard the words you’d wished he’d confess. 

How much more of this could you take? How much more could anyone take? This was an insane amount of pain and all you wanted to do was sleep. You wanted to give up. 

You sobbed, finally breaking, “Please stop.. just please.” 

“I can’t.” He sighs, “36 hours.” He taps the watch on his wrist. 

You were fading, or at least you wanted to fade away. You’d been strong during all this because you knew you’d get to see Spencer again. He’d been the one to keep you going during this, but right now you don’t know how much more you could take. You wanted to make it through this just to be able to tell him how you felt. Your thoughts slowed and the darkness consumed you. 

~ 

As soon as the live stream was posted, Penelope began working her magic. However, it was still proven to be a challenge on pinpointing the location. 

He had to watch as the man pulled your arm out of it’s socket and listen to your screams of agony. He’d kill him. He knew if he’d ever see this man he’d kill him with his own bare hands for harming you in this way, such a public way. 

“Please.. please hang on just a bit longer.” He pleaded to the screen. 

More disappointment as the live stream cut off when your eyes went closed. You’d passed out from the overwhelming amount of pain and exhaustion. 

~ 

8 hours later there was another livestream, but this time there wasn’t anyone seated in the chair. You were gone and his mind went to worst. You’d lost the battle. 

“I’ve got it! I’ve got the location!” Penelope yelled through the comms, the location immediately sent to everyone’s phone. 

There wasn’t time to think as everyone rushed out the door and toward the known location. However, when they arrived, it was Hotch and JJ who went in first. As Spencer followed, Hotch immediately came back out stopping him at the door. 

“You don’t need to go in there.” 

Spencer was confused, “What? Why not?” He tried to push passed Hotch again and the look on JJ’s face told him everything he needed to know. “Let me see!” 

Hotch lost the grip on the determination of Spencer and he passed through the door way. Spencer skitted to a stop at the sight before him. No no no. 

His knees his the floor.  This wasn’t happening again, please no. He silently begged. “No! No no!” He couldn’t help the sobs that overcame his body. 

There in the middle of the room laying on a blanket where the chair had been was your headless body in a pool of blood. 

Criminal Minds tag list: @thelovelydreamer17​ , @la-vie-en-amour1​ , @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25​ , @astra-inclinant-sed-non-obligant (possibly: @astra-x-inclinant​)  , @bluerose512​ , @lolychu​ , @varsityalthete​ , @televisiondreamstomorrow​ , @harry-hollands​ , @lumineshawn​ , @lyss-xo​ , @rexorangecouny​ , @sassy-hades​ , @britishspidey​ , @ateez-star​

***i’ve added all the ones asked to be tagged in this story to my criminal minds tag list because I only have taglists by the shows and/or character I write for instead of specific stories. In the future if you’d like to be taken off the list, just shoot me a message! xx 

All my works tag list:  @blossomreed​ , @mggstyles  , @simonsbluee​ , @thewolf-and-thesheep​ , @obxrafejjwhore​ , @abbiesthings​ , @itstaskeen​ , @reniescarlett​

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x female!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #matthew gray gubler imagines #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler x you #matthew gray gubler x y/n

[amazingphilza]

maniac :: cc!tommy x reader

angst (?) , platonic (?) , gender neutral ! ib: conan gray’s maniac

this is satire & note that i write the reader to be a few months younger than tommy (besides that, i think it is fully inclusive !)

synopsis : you put all your hard work towards a useless crush. with no expectation for reciprocated feelings in the first place, it still all ends in a bittersweet slap to reality.

you grew up with minecraft and it was an understatement to say it was part of your childhood

even years later, you still maintained interested in the game

it wasn’t just a simple video game, the community inspired you to do many things

you aspired to be like the creators you watched at a young age like sky, dantdm, cupquake, stampy, and many more

making people happy and entertained was a dream

and when minecraft slowly began trending again in 2019, you started making your own content whenever you felt like it out of fun

you never got much views but it was an enjoyable experience nonetheless

but it wasn’t until the first minecraft monday you decided to push a bit more with your hobbies and worked hard to make it somewhere

however balancing your passions with school wasn’t the easiest

given, you were still only around 15 and your content wasn’t even that good

with not much of a goal or plan with your youtube channel, you fell out of interest eventually

you loved minecraft but you always a rocky relationship with it; getting back into it for a few months then pretending it never really existed for another few

besides the occasional videos you watched in your pass time, you didn’t stay that updated

then lockdown happened

it changed everything and even got you regressing back to old interests

soon enough you were back to minecraft

there was so much to catch up on

hermitcraft season 7 just started, there was minecraft championships, and smp earth and smp live, and so much more to look forward to watching

you were a bit late on both of the smps but your interest peaked specially towards smp earth and it didn’t stop you from watching the past videos

you first gravitated towards a certain youtuber’s videos first since you remember stumbling onto his videos before from your recommended page; wilbur soot

besides recognizing him from his you laugh you lose series and making parody-type of songs, you didn’t know much

however with a few clicks, you had binge watched his smp earth series effortlessly

you found yourself falling down the endless hole, finding more creators to watch through wilbur

one in particular caught your eye in an interesting way

tommyinnit

my god, how can someone be so annoying and pushy in these videos? like shut up already

and to find out he was barely months older than you frustrated you

you just wanted to be better in some way

if someone like him could be popular, why can’t you? yelling at others and causing problems didn’t seem that hard

and so you went back to working hard on your previously failed youtube channel but this time with a goal; be better than tommyinnit

it was a weird aspiration in your head but it worked

he was your age and successful, why need a better motivator?

tommy wasn’t the sole reason why you strive to make content since you truly did want to create videos to entertain people like the youtubers you originally grew up watching

and with the amount of free time you had, you thoroughly analyzed his content; what was the most popular, how he streamed, edited his videos, everything

you just completely studied the algorithm in general

along the way, tommy’s personality grew on you

tommy was undoubtedly a very loud and energetic person but you became fond of his ambitions

you understood why he was popular at such a young age; he was a natural entertainer

your spite towards the boy turned into a hope

a hope to be at par with him someday and even be mutuals

and it was like your dreams were suddenly manifested into existence

you gained a large following in the early months of lockdown and even was recognized to be apart of minecraft championships

it felt like yesterday that you were just watching your favorite youtubers livestream the same competition

and now you were situation in a team to play yourself for the first time instead of being a viewer for once

not to mention, with tommyinnit as a teammate

how did you manage to get so lucky?

under the excitement, you felt beyond never nervous waiting in the empty discord call for your team to join you to practice the mini-games

in the middle of gathering your thoughts together, you heard a sound from discord signaling someone joined the call

“uh, hello?”

you heard the familiar british accent you spent hours listening to from countless streams and videos

“h-hi! i’m y/n, how are you?”

you hoped tommy couldn’t hear the strain in your voice due to fighting your nerves, but you quietly celebrated that you didn’t freeze up altogether

“oh i’m good, thank you. and i’m tommy by the way, this is the first time we’re speaking, yeah?”

“yep! it’s nice to meet you”

“yeah, i’ve seen your name around the timeline a few times, you seem cool”

oh my god what?

“thanks! um i actually really enjoy your content not gonna lie”

“oh wow, good shit!”

and the conversation smoothly went on, bouncing back and forth between you two before your other two teammates joined the call

once everyone was situated, you decided to start streaming since it was your first mcc and you wanted a vod of you practicing to look at later on as a memory

your chat immediately noticed how much you were enjoying yourself, especially after all the short stories of talking about who inspired you in the past

the smile plastered on your face never left

after stream and your other teammates went offline, it was you and tommy left in the call once together again

“it was nice talking to you tommy! and the practice was really fun, i cant wait for the actual competition!”

“yeah definitely, we’ll for sure place high”

“hopefully. it’s my first time and i hope i don’t cost us the dub”

“nah, you think so? i mean rt and plumbella are also our team mates so you know, it’s all for fun in the end”

you knew tommy was implying the teamwork wasn’t going to be the best compared to the other teams but at least in the end you’ve both made a new friend

“yeah you’re right!”

“anyway it’s getting late imma hop off”

“okay tommy, talk to you soon?”

“yep!”

“alright byee”

“bye!”

the moment he left the call, you felt a sense of relief before a small wave of sadness took over

you wanted to continue talking to tommy but you knew you had other responsibilities to tend to

for the rest of the day, you couldn’t stop thinking of the call and mcc practice

the funny jokes, singing random songs, screaming for no reason, everything

it even kept you awake until the early morning

you buried your head in a pillow and screamed into it after realization hit

y/n no

no no no no no no no

you tried to recall anything that remotely related your other teammates which you remembered that didn’t include tommy

even if it was a few hours ago, you couldn’t pin point something specific

no

i must just be forgetful, right?

what the hell did rt and plumbella even say that whole call?

you vividly remembered everything with tommy and it was clear to you why

surely not

with putting a hand on your chest above your heart, you confirmed that you couldn’t lie to yourself based on the rapid speed

you liked tommy for a good while but it hadn’t clicked to you until now

eventually you fell asleep due to exhaustion but that’s to say you didn’t do so without imagining spending more time with tommy

ever since that day, time went by in a flash

your team didn’t do the best in mcc but it had been a while since then to have that as a concern

sadly you and tommy didn’t talk as often as you hoped but that didn’t make you have less feelings for him

on some days you felt bad since you thought you didn’t know enough about him to even be allowed to crush on him

it was a bit unprofessional but you were nearly 16, it’s normal to have these little crushes right?

eventually time came to rescue when tommy asked you if you wanted to accompany him in the dream smp

undoubtedly, you said yes

and for the few months during summer, it was where you two became even closer than before

however, once both of you two had to go back and attend school, it was harder to catch up with each other

even on calls together off stream, the occasional snapchat notification going off irked you in a way you couldn’t explain

only winter break was the small pause on your disappointment

but even then, it was a slow but steady hill of repressed sadness and frustration until early spring of the following year

you had hoped 2021 would be better than last year but after scrolling through twitter one day and seeing stans making rumors about how tommy had a crush on one of his classmates gave you the same pain you felt when school started last fall

you dreaded to look over at tommy’s most recent story time stream vod where all the gossip arose from; it was him stumbling over his words with the mention of a girl during a certain part

jealousy wasn’t the right word to describe the way you felt

you would never go out of your way to make tommy reciprocate the feelings you had for him

and if he liked someone else the way you saw him, you wouldn’t mind

having a crush is ecstatic, and if he has someone like that too, you should be happy

right?

you tried

what finally broke you was seeing a tiktok a few weeks later of tommy in college with eryn and another girl talking

you didn’t know how she looked like or anything but you wanted to sob

good for him

she didn’t even say much in the video and you dont know enough about tommy’s personal life to jump to conclusions like this

you knew you were acting irrational and you couldn’t be upset at tommy for something he couldn’t control

if anything, you never directly showed interest in him

you didn’t want to in the first place

it was a bad idea from the start

you looked back at the past year and all your intentions

what kind of sick fanfiction did you think you were living?

becoming a content creator, hoping to blow up, just to talk to a big youtuber you had a crush on?

oh my god

y/n what is wrong with you?

listen to yourself, y/n

you need to get some help

whether tommy was dating or even just had interest someone was none of your business

you had to move on no matter what it was and be good and supportive friend

it was dreadful to get over a stupid crush like this but after so much work you put in, you gave some sympathy for yourself

in a friend perspective, you were happy with whatever tommy did and was satisfied your friendship together, but you hadn’t realized how much you gambled from the beginning

and just for a crush?

you couldn’t comprehend how far you gone because you fancied someone

it wasn’t like anyone could get famous and become a popular content creator either

and now with you being on the dream smp along with a successful youtube channel at 16? you were grateful something pushed you enough to work this hard

but you’d never forget the fact everything that lead up to this point was a crush on no other than tommyinnit which first spurred from complete spite

“who’s the one better off now?” your thoughts mocked you from the complete irony

sigh

y/n, you maniac

#idk whether to actually call this platonic but it’s not exactly romance so #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x y/n #tommyinnit x you #tommyinnit fanfic #tommyinnit imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x you #mcyt fanfic #mcyt imagine

[ifmywishescametrue]

Hi!!! First of all, I am like🥺 such a fan of everything you write! And so I saw that you’re taking prompts and thought I’d try my luck. So, if you’re inspired of course, maybe you would do “I’m not leaving” or “I’m glad you’re here” (or literally any prompt from that list bc they’re all just🥺🥺) for Steve/Tony? Oh, and as a fellow Swiftie, I hope you’re ready for the Fearless re-release tomorrow !!!🤯 bc I’m looking forward to crying my way through this weekend🥲🥰🥺💖💞

hi!!! thank you so much, and I’m so sorry this took so long! but i also managed to put both prompts into it so hopefully that makes up for it lol. also the fearless re-recordings are so insanely good and the vault songs are god tier!!

Tony has a vision in his mind for the day he graduates from college. It’s been there since he was just a kid and the furthest ahead he could imagine for himself was that day. At the time it seemed like a hundred years away, and it carried an allure of freedom that was nearly unfathomable back then. 

He always thought Ana and Jarvis would be there, sitting next to his mom. Howard came and went from the vision, because sometimes Tony would dream that it would be the day he was finally proud of him and sometimes he would be out of Tony’s life completely by then. When Steve comes into his life in middle school, new to California from Brooklyn, he gets added to that vision, too. 

The reality ends up disappointing. 

It’s been a few months since Jarvis passed, a couple of years since his parents died, and even longer since Ana’s death, but it hurts a little more today. All of the empty seats make Tony’s chest ache. Steve’s absence makes it even worse, even if he understands it. It’s not the first time the army made him miss something big, and Tony knows it won’t be the last. At least he’d been apologetic on the phone. A little sad, even, which made Tony feel worse for it. 

After the ceremony ends, Rhodey slings his arm around his shoulder and Pepper walks on his other side. 

“Just once I wish they’d pick someone actually good to speak at these things,” Rhodey complains. “That was so cheesy.”

“You mean you aren’t excited for the first day of the rest of our lives?” Pepper teases. 

Tony laughs, “I thought the real low point was that joke he tried to make in the middle. Not too inspiring to imply that our degrees are essentially useless.”

“No, I love knowing that I’ve wasted the last four years.”

Rhodey hums, “Also wish he was a little more wrong about that.”

Rhodey’s family starts to call his name, waving enthusiastically from where the large group of them is huddled together. Pepper’s parents stand with them, looking so clearly like the odd ones out that it makes Tony grin. 

“I see your families are getting along just fine,” Tony says, watching Pepper’s mom bounce one of Rhodey’s cousins in her arms. 

“They’ve joined forces to nag us to death about getting married,” Pepper sighs, but there’s a fond smile on her face that betrays her. 

“Trying to get you to set a date?”

Rhodey grins, “Trying to get me to propose, actually.”

“You proposed last month,” Tony frowns and looks down at her left hand, which is surprisingly bare. “I didn’t hallucinate that, did I?”

Pepper pulls her necklace out from where it was hidden beneath her collar. The ring sits on a delicate silver chain, diamond glittering in the sunlight for just a moment before she tucks it away again. She puts her index finger to her lips to tell him to keep it quiet, and Tony laughs. 

“What did your innocent families do to deserve this?”

“There are no innocents in our families,” Rhodey says seriously. “We’re just buying ourselves some time until nagging me into proposing turns into everybody trying to plan our wedding for us.”

“My mother has terrible taste,” Pepper adds.

Waving from their families has turned into walking their way, and Tony gets sucked into the fold along with the two of them. He means to slip away after a few minutes, but no one lets that happen. Rhodey’s mom hugs him tightly and tells him he needs to eat more, followed immediately by how proud she is, and his cheeks turn pink under her attention. Somehow she wrangles him into joining them for the celebration dinner, but he can’t say that he minds much when he’s sitting with all of them. The laughter and stories take his mind off the melancholy feeling that’s been following him around lately, and it isn’t until he’s back in his quiet apartment much later in the day that he thinks about it again. 

His hand twists into the chain around his neck, dog tags clinking together. They’re the first ones Steve got, back when he was newly enlisted after high school, and the letters are worn down beneath Tony’s thumb as he traces the shape of Steve’s name. He remembers that first time Steve put them around his neck and told him to keep them safe while he was gone. It was a promise to come back, and on the worst nights they’re both a comfort and a curse. 

Leaning back against the closed door, he looks at the messy room in front of him. Finals week left him with little time for anything other than studying, and that coupled with his existing propensity for disorder, it looks a bit like a smaller tornado crossed through the apartment. Mugs stained with brown rings on the inside litter the coffee table, accompanied by pages of notes, pens, and uncapped highlighters. The blanket has fallen into a crumpled pile on the floor, and Tony is contemplating if he has the will to clean it all up when there’s a knock right behind his head. 

He assumes it’s Rhodey and Pepper, here to decompress after finally untangling themselves from their families, and he turns around to open the door with a light-hearted remark already on his lips. Whatever it was leaves his mind immediately at what he finds instead.

“Hey, baby,” Steve smiles. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Tony means to say something in return, but all that he actually manages is a choked out sob. He doesn’t fully realize he’s crying until Steve’s hands are on his cheeks to brush away the tears. 

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, and Tony clutches at every part of him that he can reach. He grips the rough fabric of the fatigues, clings to his arms and shoulders and back, and he can’t possibly get close enough. 

“You’re here,” Tony whispers when he eventually finds his breath again. “You’re here, you’re actually here.”

Steve’s hand strokes through his hair, and his other hand is holding on to Tony just as tight as Tony is holding on to him. “I’m here, baby.”

He isn’t sure how long they stand there like that, swaying slightly as they hang on to each other, but it must be quite a long while before he can let go again. Even then, though, he doesn’t let Steve go very far. They fall onto the couch in one tangled mess of limbs. Tony puts his chin on Steve’s chest to look at him, and Steve looks back with a soft smile that almost makes him want to cry again. There’s a small, faded scratch on Steve’s cheek that wasn’t there before, and Tony reaches out to trace it with the tip of his finger. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Tony says quietly, like if he speaks any louder, the lovely little bubble they’re in will break. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here earlier,” Steve says again. “I really tried, but -”

Tony interrupts him with a shake of his head, “It’s okay. You’re here now.”

“I’ll be here for a while, I promise.”

Tony smiles, but there’s a dull, familiar ache in his chest at the thought that it will eventually come to end anyway. “How long do I have you for?”

Instead of answering, Steve shuffles a bit beneath him, hand worming its way into his pocket. He pulls out a folded paper and hands it to Tony, expression unreadable. Tony sits up a little to read it, and by the time he’s finished reading every single line to make sure it’s real, his hand is shaking. 

“You - you’re - discharged?” Tony stammers out. “You’re done?”

Steve nods, grin slowly forming as he watches Tony process it. “Was sort of hoping that might make up for missing the ceremony this morning.”

Tony laughs, light and carefree in a way that he hasn’t felt in four years. He kisses Steve with everything he has, paper crinkling between them, and between one kiss and the next, Steve reassures, “I’m not leaving, sweetheart. Never leaving again.”

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #my writing #prompts #prompt fill #my fic

[cierrabiscuits]

Koutaro Bokuto x Fem Reader: Eligible Bachelor

 Summary: Some of the MSBY team are scheduled at a charity event and are auctioned off for dates, you being the manager go with them. The team is well aware of your crush on Bokuto and put a plan in motion. What’s the worst that can happen. 

 Words: 5.1K

 Warnings: Angst if squint, happy ending, MSBY 4 being sold as dates for Charity.

 Authors Note: Hello! This is my first time posting a fic so go easy on me, I hope you all enjoy it and get a good laugh out of it like I did! This is part of a collab with @ambershaydeoffical! Please support all the talented writes who participated. 

Update: I made a route for Sakusa! Find that here

Update: I made a route for Atsumu! Finda that here

Story

“Alrighty boys are you ready to go on in?” You said staring at the four well dressed men  behind you.

 “No, and I want to go home.” Sakusa adjusted his black facemask. He wasn’t keen on coming to this event whatsoever.

 “Sakusa I know, but I really need you! Besides what would you be doing anyway? It's Valentine's day and you're as single as single gets. Live a little. Maybe you will find your Mrs.Clean tonight! Ya never know!” You said as he rolled his eyes and scoffed.

 “Omi-Omi don't be that way. Our lovely manager here worked hard to get us this opportunity, and it's benefiting a charity you scrooge.” Atsumu smacked Sakusa’s back.”I think your just upset because you know all the ladies are going to bid on me.” The blond setter smirked at the very pissed Sakusa who just glared at him.

 “NOoO It's going to be me who gets all the bids. I still have my tan from Brazil and I’m alot cooler than all of you.” Hinata piped up, proudly adjusting his tie that had little volleyballs on it. 

 “Well if we don’t get our asses in that building, aint none of y’all getting any bids, besides I’m freezing to death,” You said rubbing your arms. The dress you wore done little to protect you from the cold night. 

 “Take this please, I don’t want to freeze to death. I like you warm and alive.” Bokuto, who's been oddly quiet, spoke up wrapping his grey tux jacket around your shoulders leaving him in his blue button up. You could smell his cologne on the jacket, you could drown in this and wouldn't complain. Your cheeks ran hot and you managed to let out a “thank you” through chattering teeth.

 “Okay let’s get going.” You said wrapping the jacket tighter around you as the boys followed you like baby ducks. Bokuto walked up beside you while the two boys bickered over who would have the most bids in the back, Sakusa wanted no part in it and stayed to himself. You look at Bokuto  who seemed nervous. You decided to hype him up a bit before he went into emo mode. “Bokuto you are going to have some gorgeous high profile women coming after you tonight, I’m jealous of them.” You didn't lie, you had the biggest crush on Bo, ever since you took the job as the MSBY manager. You never have a frown on your face next to him- until now. You knew he’d have a woman, that's not you, by his side tonight. You’d bid on him until your bank went in the negative but you don’t get paid like the women at this event do.

 “You wait and see, I’ll have the most beautiful one by time the night is out.” Bokuto said, smiling at you. You felt a pang of sadness creep on you, if he only knew. 

 The warm air of the ballroom felt nice against your cool body. You gave Bokuto his jacket back, you secretly wished you could keep it forever. You took in your surroundings, the ball room was filled with women in designer dresses and you could see the small stage in the middle of the room. 

 “Guys I have to find the event coordinator and see what time you guys need to get on stage. Please be on your best behavior, there are cameras everywhere. Atsumu keep the drinking to a minimum, Shoyo for the love of God go to the bathroom now, Omi keep these fools in line and you better be nice to people and last but never the least Bokuto, If you dance please be careful, I don’t want to take you to the ER again because you hit the Cha cha slide too hard. And with that I’m out. I’m counting on you guys.” You said giving them a thumbs up as you got lost into the sea of people to hunt the event coordinator. 

~

 “Thank you so much Y/N! Everyone is looking forward to the auction. We have some models and a couple pop stars who will be in the line up as well as a few volunteers . I want your boys to go at the end, as they say ‘always save the best for last’.” The coordinator spoke over the bustling crowd. She went over the rules and where they needed to go and what time to line up. You soaked in all the information the bubbly coordinator was giving you. “I have to go let the rest of the people know the game plan. Please have your guys here and lined up in half an hour. Thank you again!” And with that she disappeared into the crowd. Now here came the hard part.

You scanned the large ballroom to find your heathens. Sakusa would be the easiest to find because he is most likely on one of the four corners in the building. Hinata was most likely with Bokuto, and Atsumu was a wild card, he could be at the bar, maybe even on the dance floor trying to impress girls with his dance moves(That suck by the way). You recall the time you found him passed out in a bush drunk off ass at a gala last year. You make up a game plan, you would get Bo and Hinata first, then find a hopefully sober Tsumu and lastly get Sakusa (you figured it best not to drag him around the ballroom) You spot Bokuto’s tall figure next to a snack bar, and as you figured Hinata was with him. They were both stuffing their mouths with meat kebabs and other foods like wild animals, they sure love to eat you thought. 

 “Bokuto,Hinata, they are getting ready to line everyone up, wait for me over there.” You said pointing towards an area that was not  too terribly crowded.

 “HEY HEY HEY Y/N try one of these things, they are so freakin good.” He shoved a cake pop in front of your face. You took it from the gray haired boy.

 “Thank you Bo, but we really need to go.” You took a bite from the cake pop. “Wow that is really good.” You said finishing it in one bite. You heard some snickers from a group of girls, they made a smug comment about you eating it all at once. You normally would throw hands but you had an image to uphold. You shouldn't let it bother you but it did.

 “Hey don’t let that bother you, besides I like a girl that can eat.” Bokuto said, patting your head. He is literally the human version of sunshine. 

 “Thanks Bo. But really we need to get the move on, I still have to hunt Tsumu down. Can you and Hinata wait for me over there.” You said pointing to the area again.

 “Roger that.” They said unison. 

  “I’ll be right back.” You said going back into the crowd. You checked the dancefloor first and he wasn't there(You were relieved he was not.). You made your way to the bar and found him surrounded by women who were mesmerized by his thick accent. You waved him down and he nodded and turned his attention back to the group he had attracted.

 “It looks like It's time fer’ me to go, make sure you all bid for me. I’ll be a waitin’” He said getting up and following you. The women he had been entertaining giggled as he walked away.

 “Look at you being a player. I didn’t expect that from a man who yells at girls when they cheer for him.” You leaned into him so he could hear you over the crowd.

 “I’m just tryin’ to raise some money, it's strictly business. My heart belongs to volleyball for the most part.”He said winking at you. He truly is just a fool in love with the sport. 

You led Atsumu to the group and went to retrieve poor  Sakusa. You looked around for a few minutes and felt a tug at the back of your shirt. You turn around and see Sakusa towering over you. 

 “This is new, I’m used to finding you sulking in a corner.” You said staring into his black eyes. 

 “I watched you gather everyone up, I figured I would come on over to make it easier for you.” He began to walk towards the rest of the group.

 “I guess being 6’4 has its perks huh Omi? You're like a watchtower.” You said looking up at the tall spiker.

 “Yeah, guess so.”He said playing with one of his dark curls.

~~

 “Okay we have everyone, so you guys are going last, I’ll leave who goes first to you guys. Now let's go get lined up.” You lead them to the stage and let them line up. Atsumu insisted on going first, Hinata would go after him, then Sakusa and lastly Bokuto. 

 “You owe me some umeboshi after this.” Sakusa said, taking his mask off and putting it in the pocket of his tux.

 “Sure thing. I'll even throw in a thing of nice smelling hand sanitizer for the trouble.” You crossed your arms and smirked at him.

 “I’ll hold you to that.” He said, filing behind Hinata.

 You looked at Bokuto who appeared to be a nervous wreck. He had a small layer of sweat on his forehead and his hands were shaking slightly. “Hey it's going to be okay, I’ll be right here.” You said pulling out your handkerchief and dabbing the sweat off his forehead. “You're amazing and dare I say you're the best looking one.” You said making him blush.

 “Ummm HEY.” Atsumu said glaring at you, obviously butt hurt from your comment. Sakusa was unamused and took it upon himself to kick Atsumu. That gave you the opportunity to turn your attention back to the nervous male beside you. Before you could comfort him the loud speaker cut you off.

 “Ladies and gentleman, would you please give your attention to the center stage, the date auction will begin momentarily.” The coordinator announced causing everyone to tense up a bit.

 “Come on guys loosen up a bit, I’m going to be in the front taking pictures for our instagram page. So show off a little! Show them you are proud to be a part of such an awesome volleyball team!” You hyped them up one last team. “With that being said I want a group picture so bring it in guys.” You said pulling the camera and ushering the athletes into the frame. “Say cheese.” Atsumu wrapped his arm around Sakusa who didn’t have the chance to push him off, Bokuto gave Hinata bunny ears. It was a chaotic photo, but It caught their true essence. 

 “I want a picture with you before you go Y/N. Pleaseee.” Bokuto gave you puppy dogs eyes and you couldn't deny him.

 “Sure Bo. Atsumu here.” You handed him the camera and got beside Bokuto. He wrapped an arm around your waist and held you close to him. You could feel his muscles through the tux that fit just a little too good. 

 “Aww you look like a cute couple.” Atsumu teased as he brought the camera up to snap a picture. You couldn't make a comeback as embarrassment washed over you. You looked up at Bokuto who had a blush adorning his handsome face.

 “Y/N I’m going to do something, don’t get mad.” Bokuto said, picking you up bridal style before you could even protest.

 “That’s what I’m talking about!” Atsumu said, snapping more pictures. 

 “Bokuto put me down, I'm heavy!” You shriked  gripping onto his tux.

 “No you're not. I could carry you around all night like this if you wanted me to!” He smiled down at you! You felt your face light up like a Christmas tree. No matter how big or small you were, Bokuto always made you feel like a princess. 

 “As much as I’d love you to, we gotta get this ball rolling.” You said as he gently placed you back on your feet. “I’ll be taking that.” You said snatching the camera from Atsumu who was smirking. He seemed to be hiding something from the way he was acting. He is definitely sus you thought. You waved the boys goodbye and made you way to the front of the crowd. You got the camera ready as the spotlight of the stage flickered on. 

 “Thank you all for coming out tonight! We hope you are ready to see the heartthrobs we have lined up for you!!” The announcer said setting the tone. “Valentine's day is all about love and being with one another. So if your single, ladies, pull those yen out and let’s get to business!” The crowd cheered and applauded as the auction began.

You didn’t pay much attention to the men coming on stage, your only worry was the last 4. You scrolled through the camera to see the pictures Atsumu took of you and Bokuto. Bokuto had such a wide smile on his face in the pictures, your smile was just as big, even though your face was full of panic in the one where he effortlessly picked you up. You’re pulled from your day dream when you heard the announcer’s voice.

 “We have some special guests tonight from the MSBY volleyball team! We’ll start first with Miya Atsumu!” The announcer said as Atsumu walked on the stage like he owned it. He flipped his hair and looked at the group of women he serenaded earlier and blew them a kiss. You got lucky and snapped a picture of it, he may be annoying as hell but he knows how to get women. He had about ten women fighting over him, his bids kept going up and up. After a cutthroat battle he was sold for roughly  200,000 yen. He smirked and walked off the stage. You couldn’t help but chuckled to yourself, he’d be one of a kind if he didn’t have a twin. 

 “Up next we have Hinata Shoyo!” She said as the tangerine headed boy shly walked on stage. He looked confident for the most part and he thankfully went to the bathroom before this. He had on one of his classic charming but cute smiles. You could hear girls behind you talk about how cute he was. His skin was glowing under the spotlight thanks to the Brazilian sun. His bids went up high, he ended up being sold for 120,000 yen. He waved at the audience and bounced off the stage.

 “Let’s welcome our next bachelor who just so happens to be the tallest one tonight, Sakusa Kiyoomi!” You watched on edge as Sakusa walked out, he didn’t seem nervous but he wasn’t all that interested either, he stood in the middle of the stage like a statue. To make matters worse he wasn’t smiling. You grabbed his attention for a moment and smiled as wide as you could and pointed at your face, you felt like one of the psychotic moms from toddlers and tiaras but you had to do something or he wasn't going to get any bids. You mouthed the words “Smile please” at him and he finally took the hint. He had an awkward but cute smile on his face finally. You relaxed a little and resumed taking pictures. His bids began to go up and quick. Sakusa looked at the exit of the stage and smirked at someone and turned his attention back to the crowd. You could only guess he was looking at Atsumu who was probably pissed at how high Sakusa’s bids were. Sakusa was sold for a whopping 500,000 yen. You know Tsumu’s ego was damaged beyond repair right now. Sakusa bowed and left the stage. 

 “Now let’s end this night right! We have one more contest so let’s welcome Bokuto Koutarou to the stage!” You felt your heart drop and the announcer said his name. You had to watch someone you loved dearly be bid off to some rich girl who would probably steal him away. You tried to knock away negative thoughts but you couldn’t help it. He looked sinfully good when he walked on stage. What nervousness he felt was gone and now it’s nothing but his overwhelming confidence. He carefully watched one specific area of the crowd. You snapped pictures of him (a lot of them being for your personal collection) as he walked around the stage flexing and showing off. His eyes met yours a lot and he seemed to be smirking at you. But his attention always went back to the one area of the crowd. You heard his bids go up, one particular girl was bidding for him like her life depended on having him. Her voice came from the direction he kept starting at. He looked nervous when anyone but her called out a bid. You began to get ate up with pure jealousy, you wish you could take him off the stage and run away with him right then and there. The bids kept going up and up and the girl that kept bidding on him got him for 150,000 yen. He looked ecstatic. He looked at you and smiled before he went off stage. Your heart dropped and you wanted to leave, but you still have work to do. 

 “That concludes the auction tonight! If you won you can meet up with your bachelor over here on the left.” The announcer pointed towards the group of men. You made your way to find the guys so you can take more pictures and let them know where you’ll be when they get done.

 “You guys did awesome!” You said running up to them. They gave you a soft smile. You notice Bokuto was MIA. “Umm guys, where is Bo?” They hesitated for a second but your conversation was cut short as the boys dates for the evening came up.

 “Sakusa was it?” A well dressed man walked up to the tall volleyball player. You noticed a small girl clutching his dress shirt. She couldn’t be any older than 8. “This is my daughter, she wanted someone to dance with her but in all honesty I’m trying to make some business deals while I’m here, keep her company for me.” The man patted his shoulder and slipped some extra money in Sakusa’s shirt pocket, leaving him slacked jawed. 

  “All the umeboshi your heart desires, a big box of the nice face masks you like, and whatever else you want, just please be nice to this poor girl. She looks sad.” You whispered into Omi’s ear trying to persuade him a little more.

 “I didn’t come here to babysit, but I guess I can.” He said low enough that the girl couldn’t hear. Omi peered down at the small girl, she actually had moles on her face kinda like he does but on the opposite side.

 “Umm hi.” She said looking up at the tall man. She seemed nervous. You nugged Omi in the side to get him to say anything.

 “When was the last time you washed your hands?” He asked the girl and you could have choked him. The girl giggled at his statement.

 “I wash my hands all the time! Look my mom even bought me this!” She pulled out a small key chain with a rabbit on it, attached was a small bottle of hand sanitizer. “Would you like some?” She said opening the cap. Sakusa held his hand as the small girl poured some into his hands and she gave herself some as well.

 “Good.” Sakusa said, pulling his mask from his pocket to put it back on. The little girl grabbed his hand and dragged him to the dance floor. You knew this was way out of his comfort zone, but he was still doing it. 

 “Omg your hair is so cute! Can I touch it?” You whipped your head around to see a young bubbly girl talking to Hinata. 

 “Umm s—s sure.” He said nervously as the girl ran and hand through his hair. You couldn’t help but laugh a little. The poor baby seemed so embarrassed. The dance floor was filled with couples and the girl dragged Hinata to the dance floor before he could even get her name. You turned to Atsumu who looked like he had seen a ghost.

 “Young man I’m getting my money's worth tonight so let's go dance.” An old lady who you thought resemble Baba Yaga from spirited away stood in front of poor Atsumu. 

 “Yes ma’am.” He said, forcing a smile.  He looked at you pleasing eyes that screamed “please save me Y/N”. You shook your head at him.

 “Pay attention to me boy, I paid good money for you.” The old lady said whacking Atsumu with the cane she carried.

 “Yes ma’am, sorry ma’am.” He said walking with the old woman to the dance floor. You had to turn your head and laugh, between Sakusa getting stuck babysitting a kid and Atsumu being stuck with a senior citizen after talking all that smack, it was priceless. You guess them ladies Atsumu talked to must not have liked him that much.

You searched around for Bokuto to make sure he got his date for the night, you were also curious who she was and how pretty she was. You felt that jealousy creep back on you. This was going to be a long night. You finally spot Bokuto talking to a drop dead beautiful girl, she looked familiar but you couldn’t quite place her. She and Bokuto seemed to be having a good time, she was laughing at something he had said. Your heart shattered. You look back up to see Bo making eye contact with you. All you could do was smile and get lost in the crowd before he could see the stray tear falling down your cheek. You needed to get outside for a bit, you felt like you were suffocating. You fought the crowd and finally made your way to the exit. You pushed the metal door open. The cold night felt good against your hot skin. You walked down a path in front of the building and tried to collect yourself. 

 “Another year alone and single.” You blurted out to yourself. You find a small bench and decide to sit down for a bit. The night sky brought a sort of comfort to you. The stars twinkled and the moon casted a peaceful light. The cold was getting to you but you were afraid to go back in. You mentally couldn’t handle it. 

 “PARKOUR.” You felt your soul leave your body as you saw a shadow jump over the bench you were sitting on. You flinched back ready to fight off the attacker only to be met with Bokuto standing in front.

 “BO you scared me to death!” You said inhaling a deep breath and clutching your chest.

 “I’m sorry my parkour was so awesome it scared you.” He said, taking his jacket off and draping it yet again around your cold body. Your nose flooded again with the scent of his cologne. It’s calmed you down in a bittersweet way. “But angel what are you doing out here, you’ll get sick if you're not careful.” He kneeled down a bit and pulled the jacket around your cold body more. 

 “I could ask you the same things Mr. Parkour, you have a beautiful woman in there waiting on you, so stop wasting your time on me.” You said trying to hold it together.

 “Well I’m more concerned with the real beautiful one sitting right in front of me.” He said grabbing your shaking hands. Your eyes went wide with what he said.

 “Bo I’m confused?” You said looking into his golden eyes.

 “Well that woman you saw me with is not really my date, yes she did bid on me, but she was never my real date. She is actually the guy who owns our gym's daughter! She agreed to bid on me, but in return she wanted a date with Atsumu’s brother and he agreed to do it! The team helped me do this so I could be with you tonight, but I guess it didn’t go as smoothly as I planned. I’m sorry I made you sad.” Bokuto sat beside you on the bench,

 “Bokuto are you low key confessing to me?” You looked over at him and he smiled and shook his head. 

 “Yes and let me do this properly.” He cleared his throat and held his hand out for you to grab, which you gladly accepted. “Y/N please let me be your date tonight and from here on out please!”  

 “So like boyfriend and girlfriend Bo?” You said wanting to make sure you got the message right.

 “Yes Y/N, please be my girlfriend. All that flexin on the stage was for you baby!” He stood up and flexed again making you laugh. “But in all seriousness, I freakin love you. So what do you say Y/N?” 

 “Yes. I would love nothing mo-“ Bokuto cut you off by lifting your body into his strong arms. You giggled as he swung you both in circles. He slowed down and seen you finally smile again

 “Now that’s a pretty sight, you're not going to be sad on my watch anymore. Now we better get back inside before we freeze to death!” Bokuto wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you two began to walk back. “Wait I have something for you!” He dug through his pockets and pulled out a small jewelry box and handed it to you. You opened it and there was a necklace with a small owl charm and a “B” charm next to it.

 “Bo this is so cute! Can you help me put it on!” You said handing him the necklace. He struggled to get it on but finally got it. The silver was cold on your skin, but you didn’t mind at all.

 “Omi actually helped me pick it out, believe it or not. He said if I would have went alone I would have got something stupid.” Bokuto said, sliding the jewelry box back into his coat pocket. You hate to admit it but Sakusa going was probably a good thing. 

 “Bo I really love it, thank you.” You said leaving up and kissing his cheek. “Now let’s go back, I’ve got to check in on everyone.” You walked into the ballroom with your arm hooked around Bokuto’s bicep. 

You scanned the room to see if you could find any of the guys and the only one you could see was Hinata laughing with his date. They seemed to be hitting it off pretty good. “Bokuto let’s go get something to drink.” You both walked towards the bar, you see that girl who bid on Bokuto sitting next to Osamu. They both seemed to be having a good time.

 “Thank you again! The planned worked Y/N is my girlfriend now!” Bokuto walked up to them and showed you off. 

 “I’m so glad!” The girl said, clasping her hands together. “You are a cute couple.” 

 “Speaking of a cute couple.” Osamu chimed in and pointed towards his brother Atsumu who was being dragged around by that old lady. “I may have given her some free Onigiri vouchers and a few hundred yen to bid on him.” The twin laughed at his brother's despair. 

 “Your evil, but I like it.” The girl said as they clinked their drinks together. 

 “You guys enjoy it, we still have to hunt for Omi.” You bowed and clung back on to Bokuto. 

After circulating the ballroom a few times you finally find Sakusa and the little girl sitting at a table. Sakusa looked dead tired and the little girl was stuffing her face with cake

 “Omi you look like a tired dad.” Bokuto said bursting out laughing at his teammate. 

 “I see your plan worked.” Sakusa said, looking at the necklace through tired eyes. 

 “Yes it did now this cutie is all mine.” Bokuto said peppering your cheek with kisses.

 “How disgusting, when you grow up don’t date idiots like him.” Sakusa looked at the child who just nodded her head. It was hilarious to see Omi so out of his element. “That was directed at you Bokuto not Y/N.” 

 “Omi, he is a idiot but he is my idiot.” You patted Bokuto's back. 

 “Omi-Omi let’s go dance some more. I like this song.” The little girl tugged on his jacket. 

 “Fine.” Omi sighed and followed her dance floor.

 “Now that we know everyone (for the most part) is okay let’s dance!” You said leading Bokuto to the dance floor.

 You danced to every single song and Bo didn’t break anything when the cha cha slide came on. He swung you around all night without a care in the world. 

 “Let’s end the night with something nice and slow.” The Dj said putting on (Insert your favorite slow song)

  “May I have this dance pretty girl?” Bokuto asked, holding his hand out to pull you closer to him.

 “The Macarena may have wore me out, but I guess I have enough wind in me for one last song.” You teased wrapping your arms around his neck. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and began to slowly dance you around the room. 

 You see that little girl struggling to keep up with Omi’s big steps as he attempted to dance with her, he was at least trying you thought. Hinata was slow dancing with his date of the night, they both seemed comfortable and content with each other. Atsumu was still with that granny but he seemed to have accepted defeat as he danced around with her. Osamu danced with the gym owner's daughter and made it a mission to kick his brother when they got close enough, he even messed him up enough to cause the old to hit him with the cane again. You felt Bokuto's grip tighten and he dipped you down enough to finally kiss you on the lips. He pulled away and brought you back up to continue dancing. 

“ I love you Y/N.” Bokuto spoke softly in your ear. 

 “I love you too.” You said as the song faded out.

   “And one more thing Y/N” Bokuto said, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “I told you I would have the most beautiful girl here.”

Fin

#Bokuto X Reader #MSBY X Reader #Haikyuu Fluff #Bokuto Fluff #Bokuto Angst #Haikyuu Angst #kotaro bokuto x reader #Koutarou X Reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x female reader #bokuto x y/n

[moondustis]

remember when (m)

pairing: jaehyun + reader genre: angst, smut, soulmate!au, rich kid!au, convenience marriage!au, hurt/comfort, college!au (more details + warnings after read more)  word count: 12,7k summary: A story about vulnerability and the lines we draw to avoid it. About soulmates, desires, setting yourself free. And, of course, a story about love and discovering exactly what it is. song recs: skin by mac miller and pure love by hayley williams 

warnings: there are some mentions of drug use, brief mention of mental issues, bad parenting. just overall some subjects that might not be comfortable to read like i usually put on my fics but it's nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing graphics happens!  disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. none of the events described are real or are an accurate representation of the people and brands named. 

a/n: i would like to thank mary (neostains) for requesting this fic and cami (caiuscassiuss) for helping me with some informations about how ivy leagues work lol. this is my longest work so far, i think, and it’s a very special one. i hope you guys enjoy it! 

✶

There was a time in your childhood where you remember being obsessed with princess movies. Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, name a fairytale and you would have probably watched it a couple of times, entranced by the images playing on the newest television your father had bought.

Isn’t it fucked up that young girls are always fed this stereotypical image of love? It’s like a woman is not good for anything but to love someone, to be a half until she found the other and became whole. At 8 you ate that up like no one else.

At 11 your mother hires someone to give you a talk, about how the world worked and about the weird name that would appear in your arm once you turned 18. It feels like a lecture, the woman telling you about perfect matches, the probabilities of love and soulmates in a flat tone that didn’t make you feel as excited as you did watching the fairytales you used to like. When you tell your friends at school about it, they act surprised at the way you were told and instead, tell you about the stories about meeting your true love their own parents had shared.

At 15, your mother enrolls you in preparatory school, with full theatricals about intellects and getting into the best college possible so you can do your duty as heir of your father’s company when it becomes necessary.

It takes you a while, but you realize finally that love is nothing compared to money when you see for the first time that the name on your mother's wrist is not your fathers. Not long after that, you find out that for the sake of the company, you would be marrying Jung Jaehyun, heir of the second biggest automobilistic company in the country.

At 18 you think romance and love are trivial things.

⋄

NOVEMBER, 2013

It’s a harsh winter, one that makes your hands tremble and your head hurt more than usual.

You rub at your temples as you make your way down the hallway as students pass by you at the same pace as yours to get to their next class. A dreading routine, one that is so busy it leaves you with no time to think of anything else but the essay you have to write, or the grade you have been waiting to receive.

Today, though, your headache is so intense that your mind is filled with nothing but a black void.

Despite that, you walk in small steps to your literature lecture. Your bag feels as heavy as your head and the thick wool sweater you have on is barely enough to keep you warm, legs shivering from the stupid skirt they made you wear. Knee length, of course, but still a bother to sit and move.

Fuck boarding school, is what you think as you pass a group of boys talking loudly. One of them has a Harvard pin on his cardigan, you notice in the back of your mind. It only makes you feel sicker.

The first bell rings and you realize how slow you have been really walking. A faster pace, a muttered curse and then the second bells makes you feel like your ears are melting, headache increasing. Now you’re late, a rare occurrence that will probably not affect your records in any way, but still, makes you walk faster.

It all happens very fast. You turn into the corridor that leads to your classroom but not a second later you’re bumping straight into someone, books in your hand scattering to the floor and head spinning from the impact. It’s hard keeping your balance, but the harsh grip on your forearms helps and then you’re opening your eyes, that you didn't notice you had squeezed shut in the first place.

“Fuck, I’m really sorry.” The voice is familiar but the curse feels alien on your ears. Jung Jaehyun never curses, he has manners better than that. “I’m running late and walking too fast.”

He mumbles and you almost snort at the obviousness of it all. At the fact you were literally doing the same thing. “It’s okay. I should’ve been paying more attention.” There’s no reason for either of you to be apologizing, is what you think about as your hand immediately moves to your temple again in hopes pressing on it will cease the pain.

He’s looking right at you when you finally meet his eyes. His face is painted with embarrassment, the red hue on his ears a dead giveaway. He doesn’t keep eye contact for more than five second, instead moving to pick up your books for you. “Still, I’m very sorry.” He sounds polite, as always. The curse from before is still fresh on your mind.

You had met Jung Jaehyun at the age of 9, not that you remember exactly how it went. Some random brunch where you and him sat side by side as your mothers talked about whatever was happening seven years ago. You remember your old nanny being there, and how she asked sweetly if you would like more juice. You remember missing her when she got fired three weeks later for unrelated matters that were never told to you. And that’s about it.

After that, the years passed with Jaehyun being a weird presence in your life. The rich kids ran in the same circles, that didn’t take you a long time to realize and wherever you went he was there too.

German classes at 11, the birthday party of the daughter of someone you didn't know at 12, etiquette classes at 13. An event for your father's company at 14, one of his fathers at 15 and now at 16, attending the same boarding school and having to meet each other like this, with awkward smiles and polite conversation. Because navigating a relationship you didn't know the other very well, but too well at the same time was a weird thing to do.

Jung Jaehyun was like you, but at the same time he wasn't. You were friends but at the same time merely acquaintances.

But this you remember vividly: him asking you random things at german classes and making you laugh with his awkward pronunciation. Him eating cake by your side at the birthday party, covering his lips before he asked you if you like chocolate or vanilla more. Him making fun of you quietly for dropping down your fork loudly in the middle of etiquette class. Him standing awkwardly by your side while you got reprimanded by your mother during the event, for not properly remembering the name of a lady that came to greet you, your head down as you forced yourself not to cry in front of him.

And then, his father clapping yours on the back after they talked about how lovely it would be if someday the two of you got married to join economic forces. No, not someday. When you two got married.

You, pretending he didn't exist after that day, because you realized that this too you wouldn't get to decide.

Jaehyun clears his throat, hands you your books. “How is your father?” He asks, a stupid question to ask when you're both late. A stupid question to ask, period.

You try not to grimace. “He's okay. Alive.” And then he’s chuckling lowly, awkwardly.

“That’s good, no company to run at 16 then.” He tries to joke and it's amusing, in a way that for someone else might not be. But you two are the same, at least when it comes to this.

“And hopefully never.” A stupid thing to hope for, but still he smiles at you.

Then the moment is over, the third alarm sounds and both your eyes shoot open and you’re muttering goodbyes before heading to your classes.

Your head still hurts, but you don’t feel as cold anymore.

⋄

2015

Anticipation, isn’t that just a fancier word to describe the gut feeling that something is going to happen? Worst yet when you know exactly what it is, but have no possible ways of knowing the possible outcome.

There’s a window behind your advisor, with a view to the field where the lacrosse team practices. You watch it with a lack of interest as the older lady flips through pages and more pages of what is possibly your future.

No, not possibly. Definitely your future. Because at least to this, you knew the only outcome possible.

It’s a pretty day, one that shouldn’t be spent inside a room with wood furniture and shelves and more shelves of books, that are almost as many as the certificates on the wall. Not when it also happens to be your birthday.

“This is a really good essay, ___. You have a talent with words.” Your advisor breaks the silence in a flat voice despite it being a compliment. It makes your eyes immediately refocus on her but she gives you no time yet to reply. “I am sure the admission team will read it with interest.”

“Thank you.” A polite smile reaches your lips. She was never much of a praiser, not that she needed to be. Your last name carried all the confidence you needed to have for a thing like this.

And, perhaps the interest they would be having would be exactly about that. What does the only heir of the biggest automotive company in the country have to offer for Stanford? Probably a lot, with a weight that heavy on her shoulders.

“You have started applications to only two schools, are you sure you would not like to add more?” Now she says it in a weirdly soft tone. Persuasion, because it would look good for the school that one of their best students accepted to all the ivy leagues. Your GPA would make sure of that, but that's not all.

“I don’t see the point. Stanford has always been my only choice.” You say it as nicely as possible because this is an old conversation.

“I see, well. This is it then, there's a few other students interested in attending Stanford too." She smiles bitterly, gathering the papers and putting it back on their respective folders. "But the chances of you getting in are very good. I'm sure all your hard work will pay off.”

You go to thank her but at that moment there's a pinch on your arm that leaves you distracted. It's followed by a weird burning sensation that doesn't cease when you grip it underneath the table as gently as possible. If anything, the fabric of your cardigan only makes it worse.

She bids you your goodbyes, with pleasantries exchanged but when you reach the door to leave she interrupts. “Oh, I almost forgot. Happy birthday, ____.” She smiles when you turn to thank her. “Please enjoy the rest of the day, turning 18 is very special.”

With a small bitter smile and promise to do so, you leave the room.

You reach your dorm room in no time, a stoic face on but with quick steps. And you try not to think about it, but the burning sensation on your arms continues.

It goes like this:

You close the door behind you gently, dropping your things down and immediately crumbling as you slide to the floor, unable to stand still anymore. You cry, for the second time today because birthdays were just not good. For about 10 minutes that's all that happens, your silent sobs and complete silence filling the room.

The burning in your arms stays there as a painful reminder and it tempts you to look, even though you know that the outcome didn't matter, not for you. Because behind blurry teary eyes you can see perfectly the image of your own mother's arm and the name of someone you didn't know, that she probably also didn't.

Because you are now 18 and you think romance and love are trivial things, that's all they could be.

You are now 18, and when you can't stand not knowing for another minute, you raise the sleeve of your cardigan and the name Jung Jaehyun is there on your wrist.

An ugly, incredulous laugh leaves your lips and soon turns into a sob. Of course it had to be him, you and Jung Jaehyun were tied to each other for a reason that was beyond fate.

You squeeze your eyes at the same time your hands squeeze your thighs, trying to get a grip. You calm yourself down, deep breaths in and out, your mind providing the good and the bad. No matter how you looked at it, it seemed like a trick the universe was playing on you. One, it would be worse if another name appeared, a name that you would have to pretend didn't exist, because this was just another thing you didn't have a say in. This was supposed to happen anyway, maybe it was better this way.

Then your mind provides another thought that makes your mind swirl. Jung Jaehyun had turned 18 in February, your name had appeared on his arms months ago and he didn't say a word about it to you, or to anyone for all you know. Maybe he was pretending too, maybe he wanted more time thinking that at least this he would get to choose.

Well, whatever fairytale that had been created inside stupid minds, was gone now.

⋄

The whole thing is announced two weeks later, in a gossip magazine with information from an inside source. Information that is carefully crafted from a marketing team the moment you reveal the result.

A result, like a test had been applied and you got Jung Jaehyun for whatever reason.

You exchange pleasantries the next time you see him, no trace of being too young to know the rest of your lives already. You just look at each other in maybe defeat, while your families make a toast to celebrate a wedding to take place in a few years from now. A wedding that held meaning beyond the marks that tied the two of you. Destiny just helped a little bit, it was just a good excuse to justify a marriage that had been arranged ages ago.

A month later you get accepted to Stanford, of course you do. And your mother's smile is a loud reminder of every single time she called you and inquired about every grade, every step you made to make sure this happened and that it all happened accordingly.

It doesn't take you long to find out Jaehyun got accepted there too.

⋄

AUGUST 2016

The heels of your Miu Miu boots make small stomping noises on the wood floor sounds as you walk through shelves and shelves filled with books. It’s not a loud sound, probably only perceived by your own ears, and you let it distract you as you navigate the big corridors of the Green Library.

Stanford had made your eyes shine during your first visit and then for the first months of your freshman year. The thrill of finally experiencing something new and yet undiscovered carried on until it gave space to normalcy, another routine. But this time, a feeling blossomed inside your stomach with wanting to eat it up.

A feeling that died and resurrected every now and then, but you played it safe. Navigating it with baby steps with fear of what could happen if you strained a little too far from the line. And what could that be? A magazine spread on how a famous philanthropic's daughter parties too hard in college, with pictures of you doing a line on marble countertops?  A class failed and the disappointment on your mother's voice when she called you? A scandal about your night escapades? You didn’t want to find out just yet.

So you settle for your new routine, of going out every now and then with the roommates that you were about to consider friends. Pondering if it’s worth it to join another club, just to feel like there's something else that makes you feel excited. Coming to the library, studying to keep your mind busy because your thoughts were never up to no good.

And it's so easy, being busy like you always managed to, with assignments, and volunteering and maintaining a perfect GPA.

It's also easy to ignore Jung Jaehyun’s existence. Because this time, unlike in boarding school, the task is much simpler, since classes are filled with so many people that on the ones you shared with him you barely get a glance of his eyes. Because he ran around in circles that had nothing to do with yours.

It was always clear to you, since youth, that Jaehyun was a social butterfly that just needed a little pushing, and he was nice enough that people always wanted him near. A high contrast to your quietness and introverted ways, staying in small circles and almost never allowing people to get too close.

It's weird thinking about him, putting a face to the name that was forever marked on your skin as a reminder of your future. It was weird thinking that it was easy to ignore this feeling too, like all the other ones that you have kept away in your small little box. The feelings that came out at least once a year when it all became too much, and you would sit in a duvet to spill all the dead butterflies inside your stomach out on the floor of a therapy clinic.

But even like this, weirdness doesn't begin to cover the way sometimes you catch yourself thinking of a memory that involves him, random and unexpected. A moment shared before the two of you discovered what expected you, before destiny was revealed. And you don't pretend that it's not real, that you don't feel the longing and need to be close, that your skin doesn't tingle when you see him around campus. You were long past pretending now, because there was no reason to play dumb when sometimes all you had were your own thoughts to rot your brain.

What you were good at, though, was concealing it all.

Was Jaehyun good at that too? Now that's something that you think about more than you would like. It didn't help that sometimes you would bump into him out of nowhere.

You enter the marketing aisle, eyes fixed on the small numbers taped to each section in hopes that the book you need was still here. It takes you awhile to realize that there's someone else with you, only moving your head up when you hear the footsteps approaching.  

“Hi.” Jaehyun says, a small smile on his lips that is as gentle as every other thing about his looks. He stands close, but not too much. A safe distance for you to run your eyes through his body one time, eyes stopping at the big ‘S’ on his sweatshirt.

You clear your throat before greeting him back. “Hello.” Your voice is low, thoughtful of your surroundings, but you match his smile in a silent agreement of politeness.

His eyes run through your face the same way yours does his. Curiosity, or maybe the longing feeling you try to not think about. The unspoken space in between the two of you is intact for now.  

He has changed so much in a year, is what you always think about when you two get to see each other up close. It always made you feel a weird nostalgia, seeing a face you had known for so long but now feels a little out of reach because of your own stubbornness. Your own fears.

“What book are you looking for?” He asks after some time, making small talk.

You turn your eyes to the books, him following. “Uhm, Kotler.”

“Oh, of course. How is marketing going?” You almost laugh at his attempt to make conversation, a skill well acquired during etiquette class.

“It’s okay. Not regretting it yet.” A half lie. Maybe another thing you were keeping locked deep down, your dislike for your major. But thinking about that while having a conversation with your soulmate was far from something you wanted to do.

He hums amused, eyes still fixed on the shelf. “That's good.”

You finally find the book, leaning down to get it and hugging it to your chest as your mind searches for something to offer for your own piece of ice breaker. Then you remember seeing his face last week printed on a glossy paper, an intricate article on consumerism tendencies online besides it.

“Congrats on the publication.” You say, facing him again. It’s genuine, because you knew how things like that really mattered. Small things that were nowhere near the accomplishments expected of the two of you, but still something to be proud of.

He laughs lowly, with bashful manners of looking down to his feet and with ears turning red. “It’s just a campus magazine.” Because of course he would be humble, amongst all the other qualities you were well acquainted with. Deep down you know that it's just a reflection of the high expectations that have been set the moment he was born.

“Still, it was very well written. And everyone said it was impressive for a freshman.” Everyone being the friend that showed you the magazine, but you'll pretend for him that it was something more. To try and erase the feeling of not deserving something that probably runs through his mind.

You would crush it beneath your boots if you could, it's the weird thought that runs through yours.

He huffs. “Well, it’s Stanford. Hard to know what's gonna be impressive and what is just expected of you.”

“Good thing we are all promising young adults that don't need their egos to be fed, right?” You joke back and it makes him laugh a little too loudly, quickly stopping himself as you two exchange awkward but familiar glances with tiny smiles on your lips.

A moment of silence settles next, one that lasts only long enough for you to shift the weight from one leg to another. Then he's asking. “Are you… Are you doing something this weekend?”

“I’m expected at a company party.” You reply flatly, blinking twice but not really pondering the reasons for his curiosity. You two stare at each other for a second that passes quickly.

“The HSBC event?” He asks and you nod, expecting the words he says next. “Oh, I'll attend it as well.”

“Boring, huh?” An attempt to continue a conversation that should've ended by now.

“Yeah.” He looks at you, and then away, and then back at you. “I was thinking that we could have din-“

Footsteps interrupt his words and you look behind your shoulder to see who the newcomer is. A tall man, taller than Jaehyun even, smiles at you guiltily before he’s looking at Jaehyun and raising his brows. “We are late, dude.” He deadpans as you look between the two of them.

“Shit, I didn’t realize.” Jaehyun says in a groan, bringing his big watch to his face,  and you have to contain a smile at the curse. Then he turns to you. “Sorry, I gotta go.”

“It’s fine.” You mumble, the book still held tight against your chest.

He waves awkwardly as the other man throws you another smile. You watch them leave with trembling fingers.

⋄

DECEMBER 2017

December always made you feel a little weird. Blame it on the cold and the days spent in bed trying to get the warmth you craved. Or on the impending approach of winter break and having to deal with your parents and your obligations for the month to follow.

But you try not to think about that just yet, when the time comes you'll deal with it. That's what you always do. For now you let your bed swallow you as you scroll down mindless through your instagram feed, double tapping publications of past boarding school acquaintances smiling with the Harvard location attached to each picture, just like the brand names are attached to their clothes. It's a little pathetic to you that your own account looks the same, with pictures carefully picked with a marketing tactic in mind.

Your little distraction is interrupted when the door to your room opens and your roommate, Ela, walks in, clearly shivering from the cold even underneath her thick dark grey coat. “God, it's fucking freezing outside.” She mumbles as a greeting, removing her boots and setting it close to the door before draping her coat on her chair.

“How was the meeting?” You ask from under your blankets, laughing a little as she drops her things on her own bed. The question makes her sigh loudly.

“That dude is still an asshole.” The dude in question being her partner to a never ending project of rebranding that sometimes stressed even you, from how much she talked about it. “But we are almost done with it now.”

“That's good.”

She plops on her bed, across from yours and a comfortable silence settles for a moment as she probably tries to have a moment of calmness.

Ela was an old face on your life, having attended the same school but never really getting closer than knowing each other's name. Still, it was good that you got paired to dorm with her. A familiar face that became a friend of sorts, as the two of you built a relationship on things in common and the want to have someone you could trust in a new place. And she was different than you, more outgoing, had a liking for socializing that you could never match, but still understood you.

“Hey, did you finish that essay already?” She asks, turning her face to you.

“Yes, it was bitch to write.”

“And Kotler is super boring to read.” A sigh escapes her lips and you agree loudly because she's right. Sometimes, when you allowed yourself a moment of wishful thinking, you would wonder what it would be like to have a major that you didn't feel like your brain was melting from boredom when reading about.

“I'm really tired.” You reply, just to say something back.

“Same. Are you doing something for winter break?”

In your mind you know exactly what you'll be doing, a schedule even ready on your mind, but  instead you say “Not really, are you?”

She hums, voice tired but still excited as she goes on about how she wants to go to Europe again, visit Amsterdam because that was one of her favorite travel destinations. When you ask how it was, she describes in perfect detail, how the streets looked and how it felt very welcoming, telling you that you absolutely had to go there someday.

You promise to go and in the back of your mind you wish you could. Maybe you can if you can do more week hours on your internship and ask for a free week.

You shake your head at that though.

“Oh, I got this little get together today. At that bar downtown.. .Do you want to go?” You know she’s asking out of politeness, not because she didn't want you there but because you rarely said yes to her invitations.

But there’s a tiny spark on your chest, one that resembles the restless feeling you would get when you stayed too long laying down. It's not a motivation as much as it is boredom and the wish to feel something other than half emptiness. Other than the want to escape.

“Ok.” You say, shrugging slightly.

“Really?”

The raise of her brow makes you laugh. “Yeah, we are getting home next week. That's the last time I get to do this for a while.”

⋄

The bar is a little crowded, with winter break approaching and no one really daring step outside for a smoke because of how cold it is. The owners took great advantage of that by offering a ‘buy two get one free’ deal, that if you take a closer look at is really just a scam considering the price. But it's enough to fool college students that are excited about being away from this place for a while.

That’s what you think about after you down the remnants of the third drink you and your roommate shared. It’s not that kind of night, of getting wasted and not remembering anything the next day. It’s more of a little get together, for your roommate's club members and you are here merely as an intruder.

You feel just a little tipsy as you listen to her friends talk, some of them you knew from afar and some were just strangers that were nice enough to make you laugh every now and then. Still, you feel detached from the conversation, smiling and nodding when needing but not really taking part.

“What about you, ___?” A girl with round cheeks and pretty eyes asks you regarding your vacation plans. “You gotta invite us if you are throwing a party.”

You scoff before you can catch yourself. Alcohol always drops your inhibitions a little, but still you are quick to cover it up. You laugh along with the others, promising to invite everyone even though you are not throwing any parties, most likely never.

You roommate looks at you from the corner of her eye, smiling sympathetically because she knows you, and knows how stupid her friends are, but it's fine. You just wish you could just take it easily, the interest, the wanting to get close so they too will appear in a gossip magazine and live the life they think you do, without wanting to tell them to get a fucking life already, because this is just pathetic.

You smile back at her, wishing for another drink as your thigh highs start to roll a little uncomfortably. Shifting from leg to leg does nothing to help it, so you try to push the little annoyance to the back of your mind.

The small groups divide in different topics over the time, and you find yourself talking to some guy you had never seen before, that goes on and on about his amazing business ideas and how successful it's going to be when he finds the right stakeholders. You nod and try to focus through the whole thing.

The rest of the night goes like that. Fake laughter, loud music and conversation that gets more boring as the clock ticks, so you find an escape excusing yourself to go to the bathroom, not because you need to but to get away for a second.

In retrospect maybe it would've been better to endure another discussion about LA clubs and entrepreneurship.

The bar is so crowded that you have to excuse yourself at least five times, and on the sixth one you end up bumping into someone.

“Oh.” Is the clever thing you say when your eyes are met with Jaehyun already looking at you, his eyes lower than usual from probably taking advantage of the drink deal like you had.

He looks relaxed, hair parted in a way that shows his forehead and an all black outfit that doesn’t look as expensive as it probably is, but he makes it work so well that you do a double look while in your hazy state. If he notices, he doesn’t show it by the way he keeps his smile unfazed at you.

“We gotta stop seeing each other by accident,” he says, laughing a little.

“Yeah.” His words take a little to digest so you keep looking at him for a beat of a second. It’s a first, seeing him in a place like this. Where you can see just how well he really can adjust to any setting. He fits right in with the low lights and the relaxed atmosphere.

“This is Johnny.” He gestures for the guy besides him, who turns his attention to you and smiles in a way that’s a little familiar. Then you realize he’s the guy from the library over a year ago, and the friend Jaehyun posted pictures every now and then on his instagram page.

“Hey, It’s nice to meet you.” Johnny says, same smile from before still on and you return it. “Have heard a lot about you.”

That makes you laugh, a mixture of confusion and excitement and politeness that confuses even yourself. “Good things I hope.”

He tilts his head playfully. “Only the best things you can hear in place like this.”

The three of you share smiles, the interaction then turning into a conversation promoted by a question you ask, both from wanting to have something to say and out of curiosity. Johnny does most of the talking, explaining how he and Jaehyun had been friends for a while but only got closer now that they are attending the same university. They share a story of something that happened, them buying each other the same thing for christmas and you listen to the whole thing entranced.

It’s weird in some way how you can learn so much from your own soulmate from someone else. And it's weird how you react with joy, perhaps, to the teasing Johnny does to Jaehyun so naturally.

When the conversation settles down, Johnny looks between the two of you for a few seconds before he’s excusing himself to find an unnamed person. It was predictable he would do that, with the way he kept aiming the conversation to make it about Jaehyun, as if he somehow had to wing his friend to you.

You stare at your shoes, unsure of what to say now and maybe too worn out from the whole night to come up with something to talk about. But you don’t have to, because soon he’s asking  “Are you here alone?”

You look up, a tiny smile on your lips. “No, I came with my roommate. But she's with her friends.”

“Oh, I’ll keep you company then.” He offers and you nod, following him to the bar where it's more illuminated and you can both lean a little on the counter.

Jaehyun is good at making people feel comfortable, you had noticed that many times before and it's no surprise when he asks you about your roommate, about what songs you have been listening to lately. He tries to keep a conversation with ease, even if it stays in the usual surface you two are used to.

If you weren't so distracted by everything, your mind would probably offer that it feels a lot like when you were kids and standing in the corner of a ballroom in uncomfortable clothes, talking about things that didn't matter.

“Have you ever been to Amsterdam?” You ask him suddenly when the past topic dies down.

“Yeah, it's really nice there.”

You hum, remembering your roommate's words. “That’s cool, I really want to go there someday.”

Out of nowhere he starts laughing a little, as if you had said something funny. When you inquire about it, he shakes his head clearly amused by the way his eyes squint a little from his smile. “It's just… Don’t you think it's weird that we have known each other for all these years, and all we do is do this weird small talk?”

You laugh too, speaking before you can stop yourself. “And still for some reason I feel like I know you.”

His eyebrows raise for a second but his smile is unfaltering, your statement not bothering him.  “You know me.” He says, as a matter of fact. “And I know you.”

Now this makes you freeze, blinking slowly but it doesn't last long until you are covering your surprise by chuckling. Your eyes meet his and it strikes you that it's true, you know him and he knows you. Not everything, but what would be the fun in that.

Maybe that's why the two of you kept doing this small talk, to get to know each other better even in the smallest things. That's what getting to know someone is, after all. Not the business interviews and networking you grew up with.

You shake your thoughts away, leaning on the counter with one elbow and then resting your face on your palm. “What is your favorite thing about me then?” It's what you ask, in a playful tone to keep the conversation going. Or because you actually want to know, out of curiosity or vanity.

He chuckles, bringing his hand to his face as if in deep thought, before he replies. “I like that you are smart.”

The simplicity of it makes you snort. “Please, that's a cliche thing to say in a place like this.” You say, mimicking the words his friend had said to you earlier. “What does that even mean?”

“I don't know.” He shrugs while laughing, “Johnny just says things like that sometimes.”

You nod then, making an amused sound while you turn on the counter to stare forward. Your roommate is on the opposite side of yours, leaning against a wall while talking to a girl taller than her but just as pretty. The view makes a tiny smile settle on your lips, the beginning of a spark on your chest.

It always amazed you how people who didn't know their soulmate yet continued to live on, simply letting the universe do its thing naturally. In your young mind you had always thought that love was supposed to be a yearning that you couldn't control, that you would have to be with the person you love no matter what, and do anything to find them. That had changed now.

You turn to Jaehyun again. “What would you say is your favorite thing about me then, if we didn't know each other already?” You ask. It's a weird question because it makes him raise one eyebrow at you, but there's still not a trace of annoyance on his face.

“Isn't that also cliche to say?” He huffs. “That you are the prettiest girl I have ever seen?”

You can't help the embarrassed laugh that leaves your parted lips in shock. “Are you flirting with me?”

His ear gets an incredible red shade and you find it extremely charming. “It's just the truth.” He defends himself and it only makes you giggle more.

You thank him, tell him that you think he’s pretty too and correct it to handsome when he raises one eyebrow again. It makes a nice atmosphere settle and you feel comfortable enough to ask “So... if we didn't know each other you would flirt with me at a random party? Buy me a drink and all that?”

He smiles, dimples showing while he brushes his hair back. It's not the first time, of course, but you find yourself a little in awe at how pretty he actually is. Pretty in a way that makes you feel a little out of it, stunned by the way his lips start forming his next words.  

“What do you like to drink?” He asks casually.

Now it's your turn to raise one eyebrow. “Hmm, I like Moscow Mules.”

You watch as he turns to the bar, calling the waiter over and ordering two drinks of your said preference. The mixture of feelings on your chest make you feel drunker than you did before and you wish you could put a name to it. Excitement, amusement, whatever it is only increases when he looks at you again.

“I’m Jung Jaehyun, by the way.” He offers, smiling sweetly and you match it when you realize what he's playing at

“I’m _____. It's nice to meet you.”

⋄

Playing pretend with him is easy, even more when the drinks make your inhibitions fall completely. Jaehyun tells a joke and you lean forward a little. Then you talk about something and he comes closer as if to hear better. Another drink and plenty of silly conversation later, he's completely invading your space in a way that you don't feel slightly bothered by.  

Not even when leans to whisper in your ear. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You leave the bar giggling like the two mildly drunk people you are, basking in the joy of it and of the little fantasy you two have created. Jaehyun keeps you close, your hands linked and it's such a nice feeling that you get even more overwhelmed in a good way. The two of you walk almost glued to each other basically skipping and muttering playfully things just to say something.

When you are near the dorm complex, he stops abruptly and when you turn to him, his hands find your cheeks and his eyes search yours for a brief moment before he’s bringing your face closer to his.

It's a sweet kiss, contrary to what you thought it would be when you allowed yourself to think about this. You had always imagined desperation, not being able to endure not doing it anymore. But the reality is that Jaehyun kisses you with delicacy and  even if there is desperation to it, it's not in a way that overpowers anything else. But in a way that makes you moan lowly, makes you press him even closer by grabbing his shirt as he moves his lips slowly against yours.

There are no fireworks, no deep realization that you are kissing the person you are meant to be with for the rest of your life. But it's good, makes you want more, makes you want to bring him closer than possible, and maybe that's proof enough.

You reach his dorm in a blink after that, him having a bit of a hard time opening the door but when he does it takes no time for you to be pressed to it.

For a moment he just looks at you, eyes hazy and shining. They run through your face the same way yours does his, with longing that is finally allowed. You try to quiet the way your heart beats by leaning forward and kissing him.

The kiss is hungry but never too fast, with his hands moving to your hips and you pulling on his lips. When you moan a little at the feel, he opens his mouth a little, sliding his tongue against yours and you swear at yourself for waiting so long. Swear that you will never get enough of this.

Your lips move together in a way that is proof enough to you that this is something else even in your drunk state. His lips are soft, tongue moving with yours as if he wants to take his time and when your hands move from his shoulders to his neck he  shudders, parting from you with a wet sound.

“W-We should...” He murmurs against your lip and you nod before he even finishes, letting him lead you to his bed. It feels a lot like yours, and the rest of the room is just as familiar but you pay no attention to that when he lays you on it gently.

It’s no surprise that Jaehyun is a giving lover and you figure that out when he kisses you like he wants to find out exactly what you like. Exactly how to make you fall apart in his hands.

He does everything with an expertise that maybe should make you feel jealous, but out of all things you are, a hypocrite is not one of them. So he shows you what he has learn from other people, and you show him what you have

And he doesn't settle for anything less than kissing all over your body after the two of you get undressed. For less than telling you in whispered words that he has dreamed about this before so many times and immediately swallowing with his tongue the words you would never be able to let out.

That you had dreamed about this too.  Dreamed about coming on his tongue as he eats you out, your hands grabbing at his hair and seeing stars. A giving lover, of the best kind,  Even more when he asks, with his mouth shining with your arousal. “How do you want it?”

You blink as your mind spins with the endless possibilities, but the ultimate realization that you would have him any way.  You decide on the one that gives you more control. “I… I want to ride you.”

He bites his lips, ears burning red again. “Yeah,” His words come out mumbles as he just looks at you for a second before moving to lay on his back. “Yeah, ok. Fuck.”

You straddle his hips after he rolls down the condom, his eyes looking up at you in what you think is adoration, pure desire. And then you kiss him again, all tongue but still slow. So deep that you think you’ll never forget what he tastes like.

He lets you sink down at your own pace, palms on your ass when you move slowly, feeling him stretch you with every inch you sit on. He hums, hands tracing your skin delicately and it only makes it so much worse.

You move, a grind at first testing the water and immediately crying out lowly from the friction and you look for support with nails grabbing at his chest. He doesn't seem to mind.

“Good?” A stupid question to ask with the way you are so wet around him that the room is filled with a squelching sound when you move up and down with all the patience in the world.

Still, you nod. “You feel - Fuck - really good.”

He looks down at where you’re connected, biting his lips to suppress the noises you want him to let out so you move your hips with purpose, eyes roaming his face to watch it contort in pleasure as he lets out the prettiest moan you have ever heard. Low and deep.

His hands move further down then, gripping your hips and moving you in a grind that feels too good. So good that you have to drop your arms to his chest for leverage as he moves you to his liking, pushing your hips back and forth.

You come with your back arching, long moan of his name as your entire body shakes and tingles and you have to grip at the sheets beside you for support. You try to keep moving as your orgasm washes over you but its too much and your walls clenching around his cock  makes him grip your ass even tighter, the action sending a thrill down your body as you fall forward on his chest with a wail.

Your mind swims in the gooey feeling of pleasure and all you can think about is him. Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun.

He waits for a second, hand moving to your back as your body trembles, drawing calming circles on it. When you have calmed down, he plants his feet on the bed and starts moving his hips up slowly and patiently but with deep strokes that make you bite your lip with oversensitivity.

And when you can, you move your head up, balancing yourself on your arms and looking at him. He wastes no time in kissing you, not deep because he parts his lips in a groan during a particular stroke, speeding his movements and grunting when you try to meet them back.

It’s when he has had enough, that he pulls out only to turn you on your back so he can enter you more easily, his hips now meeting yours in a pace that tells you that he’s close.

“Jae, oh… oh my god.” You sigh dreamily yet broken enough that it makes him smile when a sharp thrust makes your hips raise a little. He looks proud of being able to get you like this.

He hums as if agreeing with a very thorough statement, moving his arms so he can press his chest to yours as he fucks into you with calculated thrusts . You can barely move with his weight on top of you, with how he seems to lock you in place with his hips and it’s enough for another broken sob to fall from your lips.

“Deep?” He asks in a groan and with a nice slide of his cock inside of you to punctuate the question. You nod frantically because he’s as deep as he can get, knows this very well, and the feeling is something that makes you flutter around him in the desperate need to come.

He kisses your cheek then, two sweet but filthy enough with his heavy exhales against it. His pace never gets too fast, just hinting at it but he maintains a speed that leaves you in the brink of another orgasm. But, you only reach it when he pinches your clit with his fingers, circling it until your lips part in a silent scream and you’re coming again, stars behind your eyelids.

And the sounds he makes when your walls squeeze just a little more than he can handle are something else. A deep groan and a pained little sob that you find extremely endearing and hot at the same time, his face contorting as he quickened his pace just enough to push him over the edge, finally releasing inside the condom.    

He pulls out, breath heavy as he smiles at you falling putty on the bed and watching as he removes the condom and disposes it only to come quickly to the bed quickly.

He hovers over you, kissing you sweetly. Your arms find his shoulders easily as the two of you bask in the afterglow of it.

Then he kisses you again, tongues dancing together and you don’t mind when his hand starts to wander again, sending goosebumps to your body. His fingers find your clit with ease, circling it slowly before applying more pressure as your lips part and your hand grip his arm, for support and not to cut the actions.

You come again, not as strong as your first one but still enough to have you shaking a little and screaming silently. His finger stays at your clit, hovering until he asks again in a whisper. “Another?”

You nod, and he resumes his actions slowly, until you are seeing starts and he swallows your moans with kisses and stops your trembling with soft hands grounding you.

When you recover your breath, an incredulous laughter leaves your lips. “You’re insane.” He just smiles, nose brushing against yours.  “God, I...I gotta clean up now.”

He moves to get up. “Yeah sure, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

You end up cleaning together, a shower that doesn't take you long, even if it's hard to keep your hands to yourselves but you are both tired, feeling a little drained after the glow has gone away.

⋄

Afterwards, you are laying on his bed side by side, surrounded by the smell of his body wash and wearing the big t-shirt and sweatpants he offered you.

Your mind starts wandering lazily with the remnants of your high, that's why the words escape your mouth without much thought. “Isn't it weird that even if we have someone in the world meant for us we can still feel lonely?” You are not lonely right now, not really. Maybe it's just the sadness of winter speaking, or maybe you're still a little drunk.

He takes a second to reply, voice low when he does. “Yeah. But you don't have to.” He says.“ Feel lonely, I mean. You don't have to.”

It's a little funny how he feels the need to explain himself to you, as if you don't quite understand him when the reality it's both very far from that and exactly it at the same time.

“I don't think thats how it works. It's not up to me.” If it was, wouldn't you have stopped being lonely by now? Wouldn't you have finally succumbed to the desperate need of wanting someone, something, when late night hit and the mark in your arm would burn just as your eyes as you fought back tears?

Still, he says simply. “I think it is.”

You smile sadly then, turning to him a little and watching as he kept his gaze on the ceiling. He looked relaxed, as if this setting was soothing his mind and it makes a familiar feeling blossom on your chest.  “What did you feel when the mark showed up on your arm?” A question that you had wanted to ask the moment you found out it was him, but instead had failed miserably to guess the answer to.

“Relief.” He says without thinking, a truthful and genuine reply.

“That you wouldn't have to end up marrying someone that wasn't your soulmate?” You ask. All these years you had thought that this must've been it, what you felt that day.

“No. I was relieved that it was you anyway.” Is his reply, body turning and eyes meeting yours. For a second you’re frozen, blinking because it’s strange to have someone put their feelings out so easily.

“Is… Is that what love is, then?” You ask softly. “Relief that you have at least one person that makes you feel held?”

Maybe this is not really what he meant,  and more so wishful thinking of your part than anything else, but still he nods.

“I think it’s that. And other things.” His voice is soft when he says this. “I'm not sure what it is, but I want to find out.”

You can’t help as you examine his face after his confession. Is this what being soulmates is, then? Having someone that it's worth taking the risk of finding out? Or maybe it’s having someone that will show you exactly what it is.

Does all that explain the way you can't look away from him?

“Me neither.” You reply in the same quiet voice because it’s true. You tend to act like you know everything, and that you know what love is. You know love it’s pathetic and that it gets in the way of things, but is it really that bad? So you ask “Is it bad that I think you'll only love me because the mark on your arm tells you to?”

He laughs briefly. “No, it makes sense.” His eyes find yours again. “But you know it’s not, don't you?”

“I do.” At least you do now.

Maybe that's why you fall asleep so easily

⋄

2014 (flashback)

It’s the last day before summer break and Jaehyun is tired.

The other four guys he shared a room with are all packing their things for a nice vacation somewhere in Europe or one of the paradisiac beaches they all like to talk about. Jaehyun just wants to get home, not think about college applications for two months and maybe go somewhere he can be alone for a while.

“Sooyoung is kinda hot, huh?”  Yugyeom says out of nowhere and the room settles in a unison hum of agreement. He joins in too.

There’s a loud creak noise as another one of his roommates slumps into the bed but he doesn't bother checking who it is, mind somewhere else as he stares at the ceiling.

“True. But I would die if Ela gave me her number.” Jungkook sighs dreamily and Jaehyun can't help the snort that escapes his lips. Just yesterday they had a conversation exactly like this one, but not quite as innocent. Trust a group of men that have no idea who their roommates are to act like this.

Even though Doyoung, the only one of them that already knew, still acted the same when it came to this. His soulmate isn't someone he knew already, so what was the point in waiting. That's why he asks the next question. “Jaehyun, you know ___, right? Does she stick to the whole ‘waiting’ thing?”

Jaehyun blinks, shifts almost unnoticeable. “I don't know her like that.” Is what he says, which is a half true. He knows her, probably things no one else knows but that’s what happens when you grow up in the same circles, he guesses. Right now though, he feels like he doesn’t know her anymore, not with the distance she had put between them after the wedding was announced by your parents.

Then, he starts thinking about himself. Is he waiting for his soulmate? He has kissed some girls, but it never went beyond that. But now he remembers coming home from german class one day and his mother making soft cake as she told him about the name that would appear on his wrist.

He remembers that he had said loudly that he wished ____ would be his name, because then they could be better friends for some reason as silly as playing around together.

Sicheng interrupts his thoughts by snorting loudly. “Are you really trying to hit?” He asks Doyoung. “Gonna end up in the cover of a magazine for trying to corrupt the nation’s good girl.”

The room erupts in laughter and comments after that. He drowns it with his mind going somewhere else.

That night he dreams about her.

⋄

10, FEBRUARY 2018

Winter break goes by quickly with one too many end of the year celebration and wishing people you had never seen before a happy new year.

You spend your days fulfilling your internship at the company you would one day own, following around the superiors for the Marketing team and playing nice when they try to flatter you.

So busy that you can barely think about it, but you still do. You think about him so often that you think you have lost your mind.  And you see Jung Jaehyun too, here and there at parties, between whiskey glasses, tuxedos and unspoken words. Because, as you always thought, keeping it all unsaid is easier. At least for now.

Perhaps he knows it all, in a different way than you. So the two of you kept it lowkey, for the duration of those two months that are now gone with the wind. Two months of not a single magazine spread on your escapades, or you parents mentioning anything that is out of the ordinary.

It's as if the two of you have a secret, that some may assume, but still don't know for sure. What you and Jaehyun did that night is kept inside a locked box, one that you share with him and that every moment until now seems to fit in. What you don't know is if he too keeps the box as sacred as you do.

What you don't know is if the thought of it being opened by prying eyes scares him too.

Being back to campus is, ironically, a breath of fresh air. No more business meetings disguised as family celebrations, or stupid networking, or smiling for a camera to say that the company has never been better. No more internship and lack of time for something else.

February comes and it's just you, your dorm bed and the roommate you will miss when it's time. Just the lectures and keeping busy and trying not to think about things only to fail miserably.

But then, there are the phone calls, never ending and always the same. Or almost always.

The phone lights up, stupid ringtone, and your heart starts beating a little faster. How could someone ever guess what a phone call is about?  Not having control made you antsy.

Your mother greets you as always, stern words, asking how you have been out of politeness. You spend the entire phone call waiting for her to just say what she wants to already.

She mentions being busy, good opportunities, of an article you should read and something that sounds like a threat if you let yourself slip and get a scandal, even though she has said all this not long ago after gifting you another piece of jewelry you’ll keep stored deep in your drawer.

At least this time it doesn't take long for her to finally say what she wants. “Jaehyun’s birthday is soon. Don't forget to greet him.”

“I won't.” You reply simply but she’s quick to cut you off.

“Publicly. Maybe sending flowers would be good, or buying something that can get attention from the press.” It’s obvious this is not about you and your soulmate, it’s about you and your future. As everything is.

“Ok.”

“Just because he's your soulmate doesn't mean people will connect you two together forever.” She continues, never knowing when to stop. “You have to remind them of that.”

“I know that.” Because you do. There was no guarantee that your marriage with Jaehyun would be good publicity if the two of you weren’t liked or even popular.

You fear that when the time comes, people will realize something you yourself already has. That maybe you don’t really deserve Jaehyun, not because he’s better than you, but because you are not sure you can give him the love he deserves.

What you don't know clearly yet, is that you’re selfish and want him anyway.

“Good.” Your mother says and then the line cuts.

One time a therapist told you that maybe your mother was jealous. Because you would get to experience something she didn't, being with your soulmate, and that it was normal. It didn't mean she was evil and hated you. Another one said that that was the reason she was so stern, she wanted to keep you in line to prevent you from failure so as to not hurt you. That, behind the lack of affection, was a wish for your happiness.

Maybe there will be a time you understand that plenty. Maybe some things can never be truly fixed, only forgotten.

Four days days after that, you text Jaehyun a simple happy birthday with a heart at the end of it. You also get a chocolate cake sent to his place from a bakery you like, and when he calls to thank you, you tell him to not post it anywhere.

He laughs and tells you that it's a good idea.

⋄

2007 (flashback)

It was another late afternoon party, for another thing that you couldn’t remember or care about because things like this shouldn't really matter when you are only ten years old. Still, you had watched the other kids play with each other as their parents talked business and laughed, drunk from the bubbly drinks they downed glass after glass of.

For a moment you felt like reaching out and playing with them too, but it died soon and you stayed unmoving on the chair you had been placed in, while your parents did the same as the others somewhere in the distance.

It had been a pretty day, you remember, the sun was about to set and it made the shiny fabric on the tablecloths that were spread around the individual tables set outside, sparkle just the tiniest bit. You played with it to have something to distract yourself with.

You remember too, that Jung Jaehyun and his family were at the table right in front of yours, your parents greeting each other and talking briefly. Later on the party you had watched as he listened to something his mother said to him. She was beautiful, like your own mother, and you had heard her voice before so it had been easy to imagine in what tone she was speaking. Soft and low, how warmth felt like. As to the content of her words you would never know, but it had clearly been something nice because it made her son laugh as she patted his head.

You didn’t know back then that this moment would stick with you for the years to come, for a reason that at ten years old you were just beginning to understand. But still, the weird twist in your stomach, as you started to realize that something was wrong, would be felt many more times. As you realized that your family dynamics were not as warm as the others appeared to be.

⋄

25, FEBRUARY 2018

What you and Jaehyun have turns into something hard to describe.

The line you had so clearly put between the two of you, to avoid your future, had been replaced now by acceptance and the weird feeling of navigating a relationship that It’s still a new thing, but it’s also nice enough. Especially when he sends you a silly text and jokes about something, later on commenting the same thing on one of your instagram posts. It makes you feel giddy, that you have a shared secret.

Even more when he gives you a small knowing smile across the table while your father is non stop talking about the new model the company is about to release.

It’s a small dinner to celebrate Jaehyun’s birthday, or at least as small it can be in a restaurant like this, where the waiter will look you up and down if you are not wearing your prettiest silk dress and stiletto heels.

The whole thing had been rescheduled twice, because of busy schedules and whatnot, and now that both your parents had been able to fly here, you all sit underneath lowlights and drink expensive wine that is accompanied by a conversation that is so boring that you have trouble keeping up with it.

He finds you on the rooftop, hair blowing a little as he walks to you and in the back of your mind you think it’s a crime that he looks this good in a suit. That’s probably all the wine you had talking.

“Sorry I left you alone there.” You mutter with a sympathetic smile thrown his way when he reaches you, but you both know you are not sorry at all for escaping the stupid conversation your parents were having.

He chuckles. “You leaving was just a reason for me to escape too.”

The two of you turn to look at the city, the illuminated buildings looking minuscule from here but the tiny lights from each of them make for a breathtaking view. Jaehyun stands so close to you that your arms touch. You don’t mind.

“Looking at the city like that makes me feel really small.” You whisper, without really thinking.

“That’s because we are.” You hear his voice clearly, warm like honey and you don’t try to help the smile that forms in your lips.

“How do you do it?” The question makes him look at you, raising one eyebrow. “I mean, you always sound like you got it all figured out. While I just say the most random stuff because I don’t know who I am.”

You know you are the heritage left to you, the face of your father's company, a good student, smart. One of the few socialites that have never stepped a foot out of line, according to the magazines. But take all that and what’s left?

“I don't.” He says simply, “I’m just good at pretending, like you are.”

That makes you laugh. “Good to know we are both good at playing our roles.” You say, as a joke, because you are sure the two of you are beyond the acting now.

And It’s always funny to you how the masks the both of you put on fall completely when you are alone. That’s what it means to be friends, you had realized, and that’s what you decide to call your relationship for now. Friends, from a long time, that happened to be tied together for other reasons.

And Jaehyun is a friend that sometimes makes you feel like you deserve the love you crave.

“Hey. You are ____.” He says after a second, for good measure. “That's enough, you don't have to be anything else.”

“Is it enough for you?” You ask without really thinking.

He smiles, dimples showing and your heart grows warmer. “Yeah, and we can figure it out together. Who we are and all that.”

You share a smile, both staring forward at the view and shivering a little from the night wind.

“I’m sorry for getting you into these deep conversations.”

He laughs deeply at that, with his whole body. “It’s good, don’t worry. I want you to trust me, even if you won't let me get to know you.” And you do, you want to desperately trust him and let him in. ”Because you are scared I can't handle your daddy issues or something.”

A scoff mixed with laughter leaves your lips. It’s been a long time since you were able to joke about this with someone. “It’s mommy issues, please get it right.”

He turns to you with a silly smile on his lips. “Is it because she made you take those piano classes?” He jokes and you laugh before tilting your head.

“Wait, how did you know I played the piano?” That was ages ago, finally a hobby that you enjoyed amongst the numerous other classes your mother had enrolled you in. You played it for a long time before you stopped completely for whatever reason.

“You told me, when we had to introduce ourselves and talk about things we liked in german class.” He explains. “You said you liked it, even though your mother forced you to go.”

You turn to him now as it strikes you that Jung Jaehyun remembered you from his childhood the same way you remembered him. Not the same things, but still memories. The thought is so comforting that you can’t hold the way your cheeks move up in a smile.

“What about you?” You question. “What things did you say you liked?”

“Hmm, I don't really remember.” Is what he says with a shrug.

You two share a look, perhaps meaningful but maybe that's the wine making you feel on cloud 9 under his gaze.  “What do you like now?”

He chuckles as if your interest is amusing. “I like… music, getting coffee with friends. That kind of thing.”

“Not cars?” You joke, making him laugh. You decide then that you like making him do it.

“I mean, a little.” He replies playfully, and it’s very easy to be comfortable like this.

It’s good to know after all this time Jaehyun was like you, even if you felt alone in the world sometimes. That’s what a soulmate must be after all, not the missing piece to make you whole but someone that makes you realize exactly that you don't have to be.

“We should get coffee together sometime.” You offer after some time, a gentle smile being shared between you two in laziness, at the thought of soon having to return to the restaurant and popping out of the bubble you have started creating for yourself.

“We should.” He says, and the bubble stays afloat a little longer.

⋄

JULY 2019

It’s another charity Gala, with sparkly lights, champagne, fake smiles and a dress too tight. Everything is the way it always had been, except for you.

And Jaehyun, whose hand stays on your waist as he guides you through a slow song. He had wanted to dance, said he always thought it was nice when lovers did it in movies.

Lovers. The mere use of the word had made your heart somersault in your chest, but you kept it down. Instead, you move with him with soft smiles adorning both of your faces.

Your hand finds his cheeks. Nothing could describe the look you give him in the light but pure admiration. And you don’t care if anyone sees it,  you don’t care if it ends up in a magazine spread. Because even if everybody knew about it, this is yours.

The way he brings his hand on top of yours, and how his eyes match the exact look on yours. Every little detail about it makes you know that this right here belongs to the two of you and nothing can change it.

“Jaehyun?” Your voice is low, almost inaudible underneath the music and conversation echoing through the ballroom. “I don't want to be here anymore.”

His eyebrows raise at your confession, steps faltering for a second as he loses the rhythm “What? We can leave right now if you want.” He offers. “I came with my own car, so we can-“

Your soft laughter interrupts his words. “No, I don't mean right now.” You explain, swallowing around your next words. “I meant.. I don't want to keep playing a role, I want to go somewhere with you where no one knows us.”

A smile grows on his lips, one that tells you that he understands exactly what you mean. And you don’t have to guess anymore, there are no more maybes. You know.

“Okay, we can do that.”

He pulls you closer, dance now long forgotten as you just move in complete muscle memory.

“I want to find out.” You confess in a whisper. A secret between the two of you that no one else would ever know.  “I want to go somewhere with you and find out.”

You wonder if he already found the answer to it, to what love is. But you also don't need to know right now, because you will know when you have to. Either way you want to find out  and it's not for you to guess.

He smiles genuinely at you, with his dimples showing, like he always smiles at you.

You smile back, heart aching from something that can only be only be explained by years of shared stories, and in your mind, deeper connections that go beyond what everything and everyone inside this ballroom would understand.

You smile back, in the exact way you have always smiled at him.

⋄

APRIL 2020

A ray of sun peeks from the half closed curtains and set right above your eyes, getting you to wake up lazily and slowly. It takes you a while to come to it, the sheets on the bed just now starting to feel truly familiar with the warmth left on the bed, from someone that had probably gotten up just a little before from you.

You blink once and twice before your eyes are completely open, vision still unfocused but it slowly comes back as you stare at the bedside table. A lip balm is the first thing you see, then your phone and lastly a picture framed of you and Jaehyun hugging in front of the sunflower field at the Van Gogh museum. He’s laughing, at something said by the kind fellow tourist that had offered to take your picture, and you have the beginning of a smile on your own lips. One that you mimic perfectly now as you remember that day.

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the door opening and Jaehyun walks in the bedroom, holding a bowl. His eyes are still drowsy and his hair a mess but you  think he looks right at home. Because he is.

“Morning, baby.” His voice is low and raspy, but enough to make you melt even more on the sheets.

“Good morning.” The smile settles fully on your lips now.

He sits on the bed next to you then, almost drowning inside his large t-shirt and hair plopping cutely when he tries moving even closer to place the bowl with sliced fruits on your lap. “We gotta add apples to the shopping list.” Is all he says and you nod while picking a slice of melon and chewing it leisurely as you bask on the hazy feeling of still being half asleep

Jaehyun stays by your side, head weirdly pressed to your chest, and asking silently for you to feed him apple slices every now and then with just his mouth opening.

Your mind wanders as you eat and then you’re having one of those moments where realization dawns on you finally. A silly small thing that makes you smile and your chest grow warm. “Jaehyun?” You call out softly, fighting back the bubble of happiness that forms on your chest because old habits are hard to die.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you, eyes blinking at you in the same way he always does, but this time it makes you want to cry a little bit.

You lean down, press a quick peck to his lips that make you both smile and then the words are out of your mouth.

“This is what love is.”

#here she is! #cant wait to hear what you guys think about it #works #commission #neowritingsnet #nct smut #nct scenarios #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenario

[zukump3]

fixated ✰ s. aizawa

aizawa takes interest after you, but he doesn’t really know how to go about it.

genre: fluff, some smut in the second part! fem!reader

warnings: two parter!! aizawa has a CRUSHHHH, he pins after you heavily, counselor!reader. zawa used to have a thing with ms joke, black!reader

a/n: this idea was super cute so i had to write it. i hope you guys like it!!

requested: yes!!

part 2 (coming soon)

Aizawa has never been one for dating. Honestly, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had a relationship.

Back in high school, when he sat in the very desks his students sat in, he was often teased at by Mic about getting a partner. The hero tried to set him up on dates, give random people his number and all types of other methods, but Aizawa was just never interested. No one really caught his attention that way... until Fukukado came along.

She was everything he despised. She was loud, she talked too much, and she never took anything serious. But somehow she made her way into his cold heart and he indulged in her.

He enjoyed his time with her. Underneath all that goofiness she was a sweet woman who cared deeply for her job and her students. Aizawa felt emotions he had never felt with her, and was a bit peeved when they split. However, they remained friends. Since then, he hasn’t bothered dating with anyone.

“Have you seen the new counselor?!” Aizawa opened one eye to see Kaminari and Sero gushing as they entered the class. “She’s sooo hot. And she’s foreign!”

“Doesn’t she speak English and Japanese fluently though? She’s smart and attractive, jeez.” Sero huffed, and Aizawa furrowed his brow, zipping down his zipper on his yellow sleeping bag.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Miss L/N!” They both yelled, making Aizawa blink. “She’s our new counselor. She said parents were complaining that the students mental health wasn’t being cared about enough, so U.A hired her. She’s from America too.”

“America.” Aizawa groaned. He already had an image in his own eyes—a stereotypically one, but oh well. You probably had blonde hair and blue eyes. There was probably nothing special about you at all. His students weren’t as used to foreigners, so of course they would find you attractive.

Throughout the entire day he kept hearing his students chatter about you. About how kind you were, how pretty your voice sounded, how you looked so unique. He was getting peeved—why was everyone so hung up on you?

He carried the thought with him until the end of the day, when he headed down the hall to what seemed to be your room, just as you were leaving.

And—wow. He really understood why everyone was talking about you.

You weren’t blonde haired, blue eyed at all. Your hair was in a fluffy afro, like Mina’s but kinkier. You had the most supple brown skin and dark eyes that lit up when they caught his. His eyes widened a bit at just how radiating you seemed, your multi colored lips raising into a smile.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Aizawa! I’m L/N,” you spoke, your hand pushing out to shake his. He shook your hand silently, noting at how warm your palm was against his cold one. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your students!”

“You’ve met them?” he asked, voice deep with shock.

“Ahh, well, they kind of pranked me earlier,” you said sheepishly. “They came banging on my door and said there was a fire, and that I needed to leave as soon as I could. But then they said they were just joking when I was about to jump out my window,” you laughed, shaking your head. “They’re pretty goofy huh?”

Aizawa couldn’t help but note at how good your Japanese was. He knew English and Japanese were two different languages—you must’ve been pretty smart and hardworking to learn it.

“Well, I have to go do paperwork at my apartment-hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” you smiled once again. Aizawa only nodded and then you were off, with his eyes burning into your back.

His fists clenched. You were much more attractive than he originally imagined. But he wasn’t going to indulge—he knew that would only end badly.

Right?

The next day, Aizawa heard the same chatter about you. And the next. And the next. He didn’t see you again until about a week later, when he saw you chatting with Midnight and Mic in the lunch line. He cringed—the two were notorious for gossiping and he really hoped they weren’t telling you anything stupid.

“And then I—aye yo, Zawa! Good afternoon! Have you met L/N?!” Mic screamed, and Aizawa’s eyes went to meet yours ago. Your hair was styled differently to the point where he could see your eyes better, and it framed your face so nicely. You waved at him and he smiled sheepishly.

“We were just talking about our high school days~” Midnight’s voice rang out. “American high school is reaaaally different from Japanese high school, according to L/N.”

“The students here are really well behaved, especially in Aizawa’s class,” you smiled at him. “You’re doing a damn good job with them. They’re some of the most charming students I’ve seen! The ones in American high school can be really rude and nasty... I haven’t experienced any of that here. It’s nice.”

Aizawa breathed shakily. Thank god his students weren’t embarrassing him.

“L/N here’s got a degree in psychology and all that mental stuff!” Mic yelled once again as you all moved down the lunch line. “She understands da brain! We really needed someone like her here, with all the breakdowns our students have!”

Aizawa huffed. Teachers, too.

“I’m here for everyone,” you spoke. “Students, teachers, even the Recovery Girl if she’s got a lot on her mind. I’m just here to help everybody as much as I can.”

“Aizawa needs some of that help fo sure!” Mic yelled, smiling so hard all of his long, white teeth showed. “Motherheffa never talks to anyone about his feelings, keeps em balled up! That’s not healthy!”

Aizawa’s ears turned red. “No, I don’t need-“

“I’ll help ya!” you offered, moving so your body was right next to his. He couldn’t help but inhale your scent—it was strong and sweet, something he’d never smelled before. “Don’t worry—whatever we discuss in my room stays in my room. It’s something I pledged to do when I became a therapist.”

Aizawa laughed nervously, shaking his head. “I really don’t-“

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna have a session immediately, no worries,” you shrugged. “But I’m here whenever you need me. I have more work to do later, but I’ll see you guys later!”

And then you were off, with Aizawa’s eyes still on your back.

“You’re staring pretty hard Aizawa,” Midnight raised perfectly done eyebrows. “She’s pretty—I would stare too.”

“Be quiet.” He spluttered, his ears still red as he made his way back to his classroom to eat.

Another week had passed of Aizawa admiring you from afar. You always came into work with a smile on your face, greeting students with handshakes and hugs—the hugs threw him off a bit, but Kaminari told him it was an “American thing.” He didn’t know how much he would daydream about it until he started to long for hugs from you, thinking of how your arms would wrap around his middle before class.

He wasn’t obsessed with you, no, but rather infatuated. You were intelligent and easy to approach, and your appearance matched your personality. He was attracted to you but due to him not having a relationship in years and also not having the best social skills, he had no idea how to approach you. He didn’t even know much about you. His students knew you more than he did and you were his age! It made no sense.

Time after time during the third week of you being here he tried to talk to you. During lunch, when Midnight and Mic would force you all to sit together, he would want to open his mouth but he couldn’t. He’d come by your room to start conversations after school but the most he’d say was “have a good evening, L/N.” and leave you alone. He even found your social media and took a quick look through your pictures—leaving your page when he saw you in a bikini, his cheeks red.

By the time the fourth week came around, his students and his work buddies were noticing his changes in behavior. He was getting distracted much more than before and whenever someone would mention your name he’d go scarily silent and look deep in thought. It wasn’t until Mina chatted with the rest of the Bakusquad that his students actually began to do something about it.

“Miss L/N!” you heard Jirou’s voice rang out from your doorway, with some other students from Class 1-A coming in behind you. “Good evening~”

“Good evening Jirou! Hey everyone,” you smiled warmly at the students that were entering your classroom, confused as how many of them were coming in. “What’s up...?”

You had formed a pretty close relationship with the class of 1-A during your short time here. You had sessions with most of them and got to know their personalities and feelings pretty well—even Bakugo, who was closed up and rude at first, but eventually shed a few tears in your room.

“Mr. Aizawa said he needed your help with planning lessons today—he said he’s asked everyone else and they’re all busy,” Mina told you, and your brows furrowed in confusion. Aizawa needs help from... you? That was odd. “He needs you to come by as soon as possible!”

“Oh! Well, alright,” you laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck as you stood up and grabbed your phone. “Thanks for telling me—you all get to your dorms and don’t cause too much noise okay?”

You heard rings of “yes, miss l/n’s” as everyone left your room and you locked it behind you. You started to make your way to Aizawa’s classroom, your palms a little sweaty against your notebook. You hadn’t talked to Aizawa in a while and it was weird that he had requested your help, but you didn’t mind getting closer to him. Truthfully, he had been on your mind a lot the past few days—you found him pretty attractive despite his quiet demeanor. Although, you were a new teacher, and didn’t want to be involved with anyone too early in your school year.

Aizawa jumps a bit when he hears sudden loud knocks on your door, and sees your face come into view. “Good evening, Aizawa. You needed my help?”

“Huh?” Aizawa asked, his face twisted in confusion.

“Jirou and Mina came by and said you needed my help with lesson planning—I’m not the best with planning stuff to teach but I don’t mind offering my assistance,” you offered him your normal, gentle smile. “So where do we start?”

Mina and Jirou? Ugh. Of course they would tell you that.

“Um-um-well,” he stuttered, his face already starting to heat up. “I just need a new quirk training game... yeah. That’s why I need help with.” Fuck. He hoped that sounded believable.

“Okay!” you nodded, suddenly taking a seat that was in the corner of the room and sitting right. Next. To. Him. He had to clench his fists to keep his cool, not used to such an attractive woman being so close to him at all. “Where should we start?”

He spent two hours with you discussing new games to play with his students that would also train their quirks, and those were some of the best two hours of his life.

He so enjoyed the time he spent with you. You were so easygoing and natural to talk to—he didn’t feel awkward or nervous talking to you which is what he feared he would feel in the first place. He cracked more smiles with you in the span of two hours than he did the whole week.

“You can’t just make them play dodgeball with their quirks! They’ll get hurt!”

“We have a Recovery Girl for a reason.” Aizawa rolled his eyes, smirking at the glare he got from you.

“Still! You know some of them—Bakugo—are going to take out their anger on other students,” you huffed.

“But it’ll be fun to watch?”

You were quiet for a moment, but inevitably started smirking along with him. “...you’re right. It will be.”

Together, the both of you planned for Class 1-A dodgeball, with you and Aizawa as the referees. You two even planned to go by the outfits together—and now he was out at a sporting store with you, looking for a fucking black and white striped shirt. He couldn’t believe this.

“I’ve never worn one of these before—you think I’ll look cute in it?” you asked him, raising your eyebrows repeatedly and he couldn’t help but chuckle gently at your antics. “I’m serious!”

“I’m sure you will F/N,” he told you, not even noticing his slip up until a few moments later. “I—I meant-“

“So we’re on second base huhhhh? Don’t worry, I’ve accidentally called you Shota a few times to Mic and Midnight. I’m not used to calling people by their last names, we don’t do that in America.”

“You talk about me?” Aizawa couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the fact.

“What?! Of course not, no.” you quickly shook your head, and he grinned at the flustered look on your face. “The only thing I tell them about is how you need more sleep. Your brain doesn’t function correctly on a small amount of sleep.”

“My brain doesn’t function correctly at all.”

“Wrong. You’re pretty smart, Aizawa. Pretty understanding too,” you hummed, you two walking through the aisles so you could get whistles. “Your students are always telling me how much you care about them, even though you don’t show it. They really appreciate you you know?”

He was expressionless, but his heart did warm a little bit at your words. “I know.”

You two bought the items and soon enough you were back at the school. You got out of his car, sending him a wave and a quick goodbye before heading to your own car, and Aizawa let out the longest sigh of his life.

“Shit.”

#bnha x poc!reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fluff #bnha #bnha fluff #mha fic #bnha fic #aizawa #shoto aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa x black!reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa fic #aizawa fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #aizawa fluff

[immortalecstasy-blog]

The Man From Willow Creek - PART ONE Pairing: Mountain Man! Dean/Author! Reader

Y/N isn't in a good headspace, so her publisher sends her off to a remote cabin in the mountains in an attempt to rid her of all distractions and produce the highly anticipated first draft of her last book. But as she battles with snow, word counts, and surprise visitors, she learns that not every battle needs to be won, and that happy endings aren't always what we'd think.

WC ≈ 35,000 Total A/N: Thank you to@redweddingsandbowties for helping me to churn out over 25,000 words in a week and filtering out my typing fails. Warnings: Violence, Recreational Drug Use, 18+ Smut, Pet Death

Read on AO3 or...

“Miss, your total is $426.54. Miss?”

Y/N blinked and looked up at the cashier before taking her credit card out and handing it over.

“Are you stocking up for the end of the world?” The cashier asks as he runs her card. Y/N glances at the trolley loaded with a months’ worth of non-perishables and a dozen crates of beer.

“Something like that.” She tells him as she scribbles her signature on the store receipt.

The trolley is a bit on the heavy side as she heaves it across the car park towards her truck, but she manages it. When she’s got everything all loaded up beside the bags and bags of logs she’s worked up a sweat and has to unzip her coat as she climbs up into the driver’s seat. The truck feels empty without her little border terrier, and she finds herself wishing Harley could have been with her for this new adventure.

It had been her publisher’s idea to go on this little escapade, to get her out of the city, away from all the distractions. He cared more about the lack of pages than her deteriorating mental health, but for the sake of her sanity she had agreed that a month-long retreat into the mountains might do more for her writer’s block than being in her too quiet apartment. Her creative juices had bit the dust around the same time she’d had to make the heart-breaking decision to have Harley put to sleep.

His other idea had been to get a new dog. She’d used some extraordinarily strong language at that suggestion, so… mountains.

She feels fairly well prepared. Provisioned. Whatever. The cabin her publisher had found had been empty for a few years, and she had been warned that it may take a bit of work to get the generator working, and that there would be no mobile signal out there either. But she had been equipped with a satellite phone and the publisher had done some technological whizz-bang magic that meant she would be able to send and receive emails via satellite. She’d also done her own extensive research, which hopefully meant that once she arrived, she wouldn’t have to make the drive back to civilisation until her month was up and her first draft was on its way. She had churned out three books a year at some points, she could manage this.

She reaches over to the passenger seat to pick up one of her many notebooks, this one was her ‘survival plan’. “Snow tyres, check. Firewood, yes. Socks, hundreds…” She went down the whole list, covering everything from dry shampoo to copious amounts of candy and snacks. She’d even found a repair manual for the generator online, and had both printed and laminated it, just to be thorough.

“Okay, let’s do this.” She says aloud, still not used to Harley’s absence. The truck’s engine whines a little as it starts up, and she takes a moment to put the map (also laminated) on top of the paperwork piled up on the passenger seat. She still had a few hours until noon, plenty of time to get to the cabin while it was still light and make some sort of order out of it before dark.

The first two hours of her journey went as expected. She didn’t even miss the hairpin turn she had been dreading, but as the bare trees began to curl over the road and block the sun, she felt a prickle of unease. Wishing again for Harley. What was she thinking? A woman, on her own, hiding out in a run-down cabin in the middle of nowhere, all for a book she was contracted to write but had no heart for.

The last four years of her career had been dedicated to her high fantasy trilogy, the world, its characters, its mysteries. Mystery solved and arcs resolved, her baby was done. Before that she had spent years churning out a crappy serial romance saga before a well-earned break funded by selling the rights to turn them into a television series. That was until the inspiration for The Fallen had hit her. But of course, the publishers were keen to squeeze out more profit, and had coerced her into signing another book deal. They wanted a revival of the romance saga, but after over twelve years of being free from churning out two or three contentless books a year, it wasn’t something she wanted to revisit. Besides, it felt ridiculous to be in her early thirties, and turning back to something she started when she was only seventeen. Something different. She didn’t know how to write different. She had planned to save the existential breakdown until she’d arrived and at least got a fire going, but apparently her brain hadn’t got the memo, and she had to pull over to stumble from the truck and put her head between her knees. She focused on her breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose… “C’mon, you can do this.” … out through the mouth.

As she climbed back into the truck sometime later, she heard an engine and slammed her door shut just in time to see beaten up chevy truck thundering past, black smoke sputtering from its exhaust. The driver beeped their horn at her, and her panic was replaced with annoyance. She’d picked a safe place to pull over, she wasn’t blocking the road. Hell, that dick didn’t even have to move positions from the centre of the road.

Apart from the short break at the side of the road, and a five-minute detour down the wrong lane, Y/N was making good time. The only problem came when the cabin was actually in sight. A tree was blocking the drive, and nowhere on the map could she pick out any way to go around. The cabin looked to be only a ten-minute walk away, but everything was blanketed in thick snow, and she had a months’ worth of wood, food, water…not to mention all her writing stuff, clothes, blankets… beers. It would take an insane number of trips and eat into her daylight. But the tree was huge, and even if she had a chain or ropes to try and pull it out of the way, she had no idea how she’d do so safely. That wasn’t something she had researched how to do.

She climbed out and her legs disappeared up to her knees in the thick snow. Not to be put off by the first hurdle, she found the keys for the cabin, gathered up the only valuable things in the truck (namely her laptop and the satellite phone), and locked the truck behind her. The tree had a tangle of roots, so it seemed to have fallen naturally. Not that she really knew what she was looking at. She skirted around the edge and stomped through the snow towards the cabin, which was bigger than she had imagined. The ‘ten minute’ walk took closer to fifteen minutes, hampered by the snow, and then there was the issue of trying to get the door open. The wood seemed to have swelled, and she had to throw her shoulder against it several times before it burst open in a cloud of dust.

It stank. It had that unlived in smell, like stagnant water, and she kept the door open – not just for the light – but for the fresh air.

It was much as she expected really, a small kitchenette (which really was just a log stove and a cobweb infested sink with a single section of worktop) with a small dining table and four chairs. A mismatched armchair and leather sofa tucked close to a log burner. Two doors stood off the one side, presumably to a bedroom and a bathroom. “Right.” She said, setting her laptop bag down and wondering what to do first.

The owners hadn’t been sure that the water supply would still work, which is why she had lugged her own plastic barrels up here, but if it was working, she wouldn’t have to carry so many.

The pumped the lever over the sink a few times, still flushed from the hard walk. After a few tries, the tap sputtered out a dead spider and rust coloured liquid, followed a moment later by clear, precious water. The initial horror at the colour of the stuff still had her deciding to get some water from the truck, however.

“Okay.” She said to herself, stepping back. “Water, oil, logs, clothes for the night, bedding, cleaning stuff. Food.” She ran through her list again and then nodded, satisfied. On her way out of the door she spotted a big old wooden sled propped up under the window. “Perfect.”

Her second trip took longer than the first, fighting the sled the entire way and almost losing the barrel of water. It slid off the sled and looked for a moment like it might roll clean of the mountain, but the packed snow stopped it in its tracks.

Catching her breath for the next trip, she checked the other side of the two doors. Discovering to her horror that both led to bedrooms, then – to her relief – that the master bedroom had a rather basic en suite. It contained one of those giant clawfoot baths you only ever saw in movies, though this one was an old-fashioned green colour and a bit rusty around the plug. She hoped she could get the generator running to enjoy a soak at some point.

She tested the double bed in the master bedroom, and then checked both the twin beds, testing which of the three was the most comfortable, and therefore the one she would be using. The other bedroom, she would use as storage for all her supplies. The big bed in the room with the en suite was fortunately the comfiest, which meant she could pile all her stuff into the room with the twin beds.

She found an old oil lamp in the kitchen cupboards and a little paraffin heater in the cupboard under the sink. It was the ancient kind with no warning labels. Though common sense filled in the unwritten ‘use in a well-ventilated space or you will suffocate’. She set it up, just to take the edge of until she could get a fire going and put the lamp on the dining table next to her laptop, deciding there and then that this evening would be electricity free. She didn’t want to have to deal with the frustrations of the generator, and it seemed encompassing of her new mountain persona to forgo some of the basic necessities.

Two trips later and her hands are blistered from the friction of the sled rope, even through her gloves. Her legs are screaming at her, and despite the three thick pairs of socks, she would put all her royalties betting on frost bite setting in. There’s one last trip to make sure she has everything she’ll need for the night and most of the next day, and then she covers the flatbed of her truck with its waterproof cover and makes sure it’s stupidly tight. None of her things will enjoy a night in the freezing cold, but as long as nothing gets too damp, everything will be fine.

The door had been open all this time, so the cabin is now just as chilled as outside, but at least it smells fresher now. Her phone – devoid of all signal – becomes a glorified sound system. The oil heater starts to inject a little warmth, and as soon as it’s warm enough to abandon her coat and gloves, she gets to work on making the place fit for habitation.

“…As long as my heart's beating, and these old lungs keep breathing, the highs and the lows, yes and the no’s…” She sings loudly as she sweeps out the log stove of half burnt longs and powdery grey ash.

By the time the sun is setting, the whole cabin is as dust free as it can be without a hoover, the log fire is roaring, the bed is made, and the only lingering issue is the draft from the front door, which – having been forced to open – is now refusing to close properly. Having decided that the back and forth from the truck was enough work for one day, Y/N simply snacks instead of making a dinner and then sits by the fire with her notebook and pen. The flannel patterned throw she’d bought from home depot thrown over her legs.

Nothing comes. Not even a silly doodle in the margin. True, she usually wrote on her laptop. But the charge wouldn’t last long, and she’d been prepared to write this book by hand.

Even with the fire and the blanket there seems to be a wickedly cool draft, and she makes a note to put a makeshift draft excluder together in the morning. Finished with her bag of chips, she stands to select another snack and grab a beer, missing Harley weaving between her legs. She twists the cap of the beer bottle and walks back to the sofa and freezes in surprise.

On the sofa, is a pleased looking black Labrador.

The beer bottle slips from her fingers and shatters on the floor. The dilemma of broken glass and soft paws snapping her out of her shock.

“Hello…” She says slowly, answered by a thumping tail on brown leather. “You stay there. Okay?”

thump thump thump

“Okay, good boy… girl… good dog. Stay.”

Fortunately all the cleaning supplies are in easy reach. Y/N focuses on sweeping up the broken glass as a priority, ignoring the beer sloshing around the stone floor and seeping into the rope rug. Glass sorted; she gets a cloth to wipe the beer up. The front door in ajar, which explains how the dog got in. But it doesn’t explain what they’re doing out here in the middle of nowhere. They seem happy enough, well fed, shiny coat, wet nose. So they’re obviously being cared for by someone.

“Okay, it’s safe.” She tells the Labrador from the floor once she’s sure all the glass is up. They seem to be a pro at broken bottles, because with the all-clear, they jump from the sofa and come greet her properly.

“Oh, yes, hello. Nice to meet you too.” She tells them, trying to shove their face away as their tongue makes a beeline for her mouth. She giggles, giving their neck a good scratch. There’s a chain collar, but no tags. “Where are you from, huh?” She asks, attempting to stand, her knees protesting against the stone floor.

There’s a tremendous bang and the front door flies open. Halfway to her feet, Y/N loses her balance and topples onto her back, staring up into the doorway.

Where a bearded man in a Stetson and a heavy coat is pointing a shotgun at her.

PART TWO

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean/reader #mountain man dean #dean winchester likes dogs

[lokis-little-kitten]

Teaching Assistant 3

Title: Teaching Assistant Writer: Lokis-Little-Kitten Pairing: LokixReader Rating: Mid Warning: spankings, mentioning of masturbation, ED, college, teacherxstudent Summary: You get a job as a teaching assistant for you professor Loki Laufeyson. Quickly the relationship takes a turn when Loki offers to teach you the robes of BDSM.

Good girl. 

Those two simple words make your core fire up with need. Never was anyone able to do that with just two little words. 

Loki his hand creeps up until it's in your hair. He pulls making your head fly back so you can look at him. ‘’Rule number two, always say please and thank you.’’ ‘’Yes master,’’ you whisper again. 

‘’Three, always obey master.’’ ‘’I understand.’’ He lets go of you and takes a step back. ‘’Well then, kneel before me.’’ Slowly you get up from your chair not completely sure of what to do. You walk towards him and lower to your knees. 

Loki lowers himself to your level and looks at your attempt. Knees close together and your palms on them. Not bad, but not good either. 

‘’This is what I mean, little one. Part your knees and lay the back of your hands on your knees.’’ You do as he says while staring at the ground. Hopefully, you did well this time. ‘’Better,’’ he mumbles while straightening up. 

Loki walks towards his computer and looks some things up until you suddenly hear the printer again. ‘’You have clearly never heard of a contract in this industry so I guess I will have to teach you that as well.’’ He takes it from the white machine and walks towards a chair. He sits down and asks you to come to him. 

He hands you the few papers. You take a quick look but Loki already takes up the attention. ‘’Sit down and read through it carefully. Everything you don’t accept, cross it out. This will make sure you are safe, understood?’’ ‘’Yes… master.’’ ‘’Good. Go then.’’ 

Quickly you rush to the chair you just sat in and start reading. Most things sound fine- thrilling even- to you but there were one or two things that went too far for your liking so you took a Sharpie and crossed it out as Loki said. When you are done you return it to Loki. 

‘’Good,’’ he mumbles as he looks at what you got rid off. He walks to his desk again and commands you to sit down again. The whole time you just stare at him with large eyes. Loki also crosses some things out and then goes to the final page. He writes his own full name and then yours. A signature is required afterwards. He puts down his and then gives you the pen. 

You put down the simple signature before returning the professor his pen. ‘’Thank you,’’ he sighs putting it away. ‘’This will be binding then. You are my submissive and will do as I say. Understand that if you leak any of this I will go to the dean and make sure you are ruined, understood?’’ ‘’Yes of course,’’ you quickly reply bowing your head. 

‘’Good girl. You can go to your class now. I do expect you after class,’’ he groans putting away the contract in a safe space. ‘’Yes, I will.’’ Loki gives you an expecting look. ‘’Yes who?’’ 

‘’Yes master,’’ you quickly adjust your answer, ‘’I will.’’ ‘’Within these walls I am your master unless I tell you otherwise. Now go!’’ You nod again and rush out of the room. 

Well, that was an experience! 

You rush to your class where you find Dimitri waiting with your coffee. ‘’Oh my God, where have you been,’’ he whispers since the class has already started. ‘’Professor Laufeyson needed me.’’ Dimitri frowns deeply at your answer. 

‘’Why?’’ You bite your lip and look at your desk. ‘’I forgot to disconnect my laptop from his printer so I accidentally printed out a shit load of papers…’’ He chuckles a bit and gives you the latté that must be almost cold now. ‘’Of course, that happens to you. I assume he wasn’t happy about it?’’ You let out a fake laugh. ‘’Not really…’’

The day goes slow and fast at the same time. The classes seem to pass you in a haze but you can’t wait for this day to be over. Second seem like hours at a time but eventually, there it is… The end of the day. 

 You knock on the hard wooden door that leads to Professor Laufeysons office. ‘’Come in,’’ you hear him call. You clutch the papers you started grading for him to your chest as you open the door. You walk in and close the door behind you. 

‘’Lock it, pet,’’ Loki speaks without looking up. You do as he asks and walk to his desk. ‘’I got these for you…’’ You lay the papers down for him and then take a step back for me. ‘’I don’t react without proper adressmend,’’ he mumbles while reading a letter.

You take a deep breath before speaking again. ‘’Master, I have the papers you asked for.’’ You bite your lip while waiting for his answer. ‘’Good girl,’’ he speaks putting away his things. ‘’Come here.’’ He holds out his hand for you with an intense stare. 

With shaking knees you walk around the desk towards him. Gently you lay your hand into his. Loki is swift to pull you closer to in between his knees. ‘’Kneel, little one.’’ Quickly you obey and drop to your knees not taking your eyes off of him. 

‘’I need you to relax around me,’’ he gently speaks while laying his fingers around your chin, ‘’do you trust me?’’ ‘’Yes, master.’’ ‘’Well then, I’ve noticed that you are nervous around me. Why is that, my pet?’’ You take a deep breath before answering. 

‘’I’m scared to do something wrong, master.’’ He runs his other hand through your hair and pulls up his brows. ‘’No need for that. If you do something wrong I’ll let you know and give you time to redo it or adjust. It is, however, a good thing that you want to please me, isn’t it.’’ ‘’Yes master.’’ 

He smiles. 

The first time you ever saw him smile! You give him one in return while staring up at him. He keeps petting your head to relax you and soon it starts to work. ‘’We need to make sure you feel comfortable around me, pet,’’ he mumbles and gets up. 

He walks towards his fireplace and takes the spirit that is placed on top of it. The professor takes a quick sip without offering you. ‘’Come here,’’ he commands again. You bey him once more being quiet. 

Loki closes in on you and lays his hands on your hips. Your breath stops for just a second. He never touched you there before… His hands travel to the seem of your shirt and start to pull it off. ‘’Arms up.’’ When you do he completely pulls the shirt off of you leaving you in your bra. 

His arm snakes around your waist to unclasp your bra. He slowly lets it slide down your arms and your breast. The clothing article is dropped to the floor as well. Loki his hand grazes your collarbone while studying your half-naked body. 

Loki then lowers himself to one knee and starts to open your trousers. You swallow thickly feeling nervous. You only had one or two relationships before of which one included nudity- usually in the dark. 

He pulls the fabric down your legs. Your muscles tense up at the contact as you try to hide yourself a little with your arms. Loki his right-hand slithers around your ankle and lifts your foot. He pulls the last bit of fabric from your legs and straightens up again. You are only wearing pants now and slightly hope to keep those. 

‘’There.’’ He takes your wrist and pulls your hands your body. ‘’Don’t hide, little one, not for master.’’ A wave of excitement goes down your body straight to your core. ‘’Yes, master.’’ He smirks a bit at you and lays his hand on your cheek. ‘’Good girl.’’ He kisses your forehead and then leads you towards the fireplace. ‘’We don’t want you to get cold now, do we.’’ He lets you sit on the warm carpet and even gives you a book to read. 

No blanket or clothes to cover up, however. 

You honestly try to concentrate on reading the book but Loki is just too big a distraction. Add the nervous and excitement of the whole situation and it results in you being a wreck. You put the book away biting your lip unsure of what to do. Should you just ask for something to do?

You suppose so? 

‘’Master,’’ you breathe out. ‘’Yes, pet.’’ ‘’I can’t concentrate…’’ He looks up at you and grins a bit. ‘’What do you suppose I do about that?’’ Tickly you swallow and shrug. ‘’I don’t know… I’m sorry.’’ He stands up and rushes towards you. 

‘’Don’t be. How are you feeling? Comfortable?’’ Shorty you nod. After being naked in front of him for such a long time your barely notice it any more ‘’Yes.’’ ‘’Good girl.’’ He takes your hand and has you stand up. 

He takes his coat and wraps it around your shoulders. ‘’Back to your duties then.’’ He then just has you grade papers and other things. Eventually makes you get dressed again and leave. 

When you get home you sit down on your bed. What just happened? He barely touched you but you feel like you’re on fire. You pull your knees up and then simply lay down… thinking. 

All kinds of things fly your head until your phone buzzes. You take a look and see that it’s a text from professor Laufeyson. Quickly you open it to find a simple question. 

Professor Laufeyson. Have you eaten dinner yet? 

You. No, I haven’t

Professor Laufeyson. No, master. Make sure you do before eight!

You look at the clock. Seven thirty already! You have been home for an hour? You hadn’t even noticed. The professor had occupied your mind so much the time had slipped from you. 

You.

I try my best, master.’’ 

Professor Laufeyson. Don’t try. Do it. I expect a photo before eight.

You jump up and run to your kitchen. When your right in the middle of getting pots and pans your phone buzzes once again. You grab your phone and look. 

Professor Laufeuson. It better be healthy, little one! 

Your eyes widen at his demand. Is he really asking a broke college student to make a healthy meal within half an hour? Is he joking? What is he going to do if you don’t? You scoff and put all of your stuff away again. 

You eat breakfast, you promise yourself and then go to watch a movie again. It is too late in the evening to still cook or eat! At precisely eight your damned mobile phone buzzes again.

Professor Laufeyson. Times up. What are you eating?

You don’t react. You’ll just say your phone died or something. He can’t force you to eat! 

Professor Laufeyson Pet?

Answer me!

You’ll pay for it if you don’t obey!

That’s it, chances are up.

The messages flood in every few minutes until you turn your phone off. Geez, this guy is intense… Something about it gives a pleasant tingle deep in your chest but your head tells you to ignore it. So you do. 

The next day you turn your phone back on and see that Loki send you some more angry messages. You ignore it again but start to feel a little nervous about seeing him this afternoon. 

You go to your classes and slightly hind behind your large best friend when walking in. He frowns deeply when he notices. ‘’You okay,’’ Dimitri asks heaving his bag a little more onto his shoulder. ‘’Yeah, fine.’’ 

‘’Is the professor getting too much for you already,’’ he chuckles after passing the stern man. You did notice his angry glare at you but then again, his face is always angry… ‘’I might have pissed him off a little. I didn’t finish some work even though I had the whole weekend.’’ He laughs loudly at you. ‘’I’m sorry, babe,’’ he screeches when he arrives at your seats in the back. 

‘’It isn’t funny! He’s going to kill me after class.’’ You lean against his arm and bury your face in his sleeve. ‘’What are you doing this afternoon,’’ you ask, ‘’wanna meet up?’’ ‘’Oh no,’’ he calls out with a smirk, ‘’you are not using me to escape his wrath! Even if I wanted to do that, I have football practice.’’ You groan and cuddle up close with him. He wraps his arm around you and gives you a smile. 

You love Dimitri. He is your best friend of four years now and if anyone saw you that didn't know you they would swear you’re a couple. You’re not, however, just very close and touchy. Probably because the both of you have been touch starved all your life and now try to make up for that. 

‘’Just remember that he isn’t allowed to touch you, okay?’’ ‘’Yeah.’’ Yeah… No. 

‘’Miss Y/L/N,’’ Professor Laufeyson then suddenly calls out. ‘’Would you like to join me on the first row, please? Maybe you can pay attention to me then instead of your boyfriend.’’ Your eyes widen when he asks that. Oh no…

You sit up and look at the front row that is- as usual- empty. You grab your bag onto your shoulder and walk up to the front row at- of course- the middle seat. You quickly obey before you get into even more trouble. ‘’He’s not my boyfriend,’’ you mumble while sitting down. ‘’I certainly don’t hope so,’’ Loki whispers back and then finally starts his class. 

At some point, you manage to get your phone out and in front of your book so you hope Loki won’t see it.

You. Help me! He stares at me the whole time!

Dimitri. You really pissed him off, didn’t you? Sorry that I can’t help you. Maybe he’ll go easy on you from now on?

The moment you want to start typing again a large hand grabs your phone. ‘’Miss Y/L/N, can I conduct from this that my classes are so boring your last option is a mobile phone? No note making or reading can keep you suited?’’ You bite your lip again and quickly apologize. ‘’You get this one back when you go home.’’ He puts it in his back pocket and then continues his lesson. 

You’re so screwed… 

#loki #lokilaufeyson #loki layfeyson x reader #loki fanfic #lokifanfic #loki fandom #lokixreader smut #lokixreader #lokixstudent #lokiodinson #marvel #loki god of mischief