#and we had to walk up So Many Stairs to get to the lecture theatre | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

watermelonsugarsigh · 2 years

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fraction of your heart ~ part one

summary: Y/N's math skills aren’t the best, but she thinks she has a pretty good judgement of character - and Peter Parker does not pass the test.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, sub-par math references

word count: 3.3k

A/N: I actually really like algebra but I also have not done a math course in seven years so pls don’t expect real technical terms in this fic lmao – I’ll try my best.

“Fucking hell.”

Y/N swore under her breath at the A4 sheet of paper in front of her, the letters and numbers printed in black ink swirling on the page and turning into a language she recognised but couldn’t quite understand. It wasn’t her fault that her roommate, Lauren, was snoring so loud last night she barely got any sleep. That’s definitely the only reason she could simply not solve for x at the present moment.

No, it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the late hours she had been putting in assisting at the library, helping Sarah reorganise the science fiction section for the umpteenth time this year. Seriously, how many sci-fi novels could come out in one year that would require the need for another shelf extension?

Y/N didn’t really like the genre anyway. She never understood the appeal of aliens and robots fighting each other for rule of planets that probably wouldn’t be capable of maintaining any life form if the science was actually correct. Her distaste for the genre was only exacerbated by the inaccuracies that were rampant in every single chapter. After disappearing for five years and returning three years ago, Y/N hated the authors who continued to write about fictional universes instead of trying to study the actual alien life that we had encountered. Could they really call any of this science fiction anymore? After all, the real stuff was way more interesting than any of the crap that K.L. Jones could vomit onto a page in less than three months.

Why are you thinking about this right now? The voice in her head willed her to focus back to the test in front of her. Even though she knew she was not in the right mindset to be thinking about algebra, she had to do well in this test to keep her GPA up. She took a deep breath and blinked to refocus her eyes back on the test.

If x and y satisfy both 9 x + 2 y = 8 and 7 x + 2 y = 4…

This was question one, supposedly the easiest question in the entire test. Why the fuck did they have to put letters in math?

Y/N sighed and put her pencil to the graph paper on her desk, slowly but surely working out what she hoped were the right answers. Math just didn’t come naturally to her, not like writing did. However, she still hadn’t decided what to major in, so she needed good grades in all of her classes to keep her options open for next year. Her leg began to bounce underneath her desk and her eyes glanced to the clock on the wall, signalling twenty minutes left of the class. Come on Y/N, she thought. Just get some answers down.

Five minutes passed and Y/N had finally gotten into a bit of a flow. While she couldn’t be positive her answers were right, she was at least remembering what equations and functions would assist her in getting closer to the answer. 2 and -10 replaced x and y, and the inky mess of letters and numbers began to sequent itself back into legible sentences, until the sound of a chair pulling out from under a desk shifted her attention.

When she glanced up her eyes narrowed at the lean figure passing her. She watched as Peter Parker walked – no, sauntered – down the stairs of the lecture theatre, completed paper in hand. Peter frustrated Y/N to no avail. He was rarely ever in class, always coming in late or skipping altogether. Despite being in almost every class together, he managed to avoid her quite well, as if he could sense that he annoyed her. Every time she had spoken to him his mind seemed worlds away, as if he didn’t want to talk to her either. He had never been rude, but there was just something that irked her about him, something she could never quite put her finger on. Even so, he was top of the class, friendly with majority of the student body and faculty, and obviously incredibly intelligent. How else would he always manage to finish everything early?

Y/N stared with pure curiosity as Peter whispered to Mr. Leven, the course coordinator. He handed his paper over and as soon as it had been firmly grasped in Mr. Leven’s hands, started animating wildly with his own. Y/N couldn’t help but watch his movements as he emphasised the words he was whispering; she couldn’t hear what he was saying, but deduced from his movements that he was asking to leave early since he was finished. Y/N chuckled under her breath and flicked her eyes back to the paper in front of her. Peter should know by now, nobody leaves until class is over, even if –

Her focus was once again shattered, this time by the heavy door at the front of the room being opened to the university courtyard. Bright light shone in from outside, temporarily creating a blind spot in the centre of Y/N’s vision. She blinked to try and get it to dissipate as she watched Peter slip through the door, almost tripping on the uneven pavement outside but catching himself with lightning reflexes. Y/N wasn’t sure she had actually seen him correctly, vision still partially concealed by the light, until Peter whipped his head around to look back into the lecture theatre. Eyes wide, he quickly scanned the room to see if anyone had noticed his save and did a double take when he saw Y/N glaring back at him. He bit his lip, lifting a hand as if he were going to gesture to her but stopped himself, closing his hand into a fist and letting it drop back to his side. The door swung shut as they maintained eye contact, Y/N’s eyes narrowing just before she heard the ‘click’ of the latch returning to its rightful place.

Y/N noticed he had left all his belongings in the room, signalling that he would be returning, which begged the question: where the hell was he going? More importantly, how did he always seem to get what he wanted? It was like the rules didn’t apply to him; he was free to come and go as he pleased, just because he smiled that smile where his eyes crinkle up and he bowed his head in bashfulness. Every time he did that, Y/N couldn’t decide whether she wanted to pinch his cheeks or punch him.

It would have been easier to hate him if he weren’t so polite, which was one of the reasons Y/N hated him even more. She had never heard him say a bad word about another person, and was always trying to justify someone’s actions, even if they were directly attacking him. She didn’t want to pay this much attention to him, but he made it difficult not to; his puppy-dog demeanour lit up every room he walked in, and everyone noticed it. Girls and boys alike fawned over him. As if she was trying to prove a point to herself, she allowed herself a quick glance at Tara Gray, who was sitting diagonally across from her. Tara’s head was down, but Y/N could tell her espresso-brown eyes were flitting from the page to the door Peter had just walked through, probably hoping he would return. He never seemed to notice the endless stream of people paying attention to him, which only made him more mysterious and alluring. What was his deal? Y/N chewed on her bottom lip and pulled her eyes away from Tara just as her heart began to twinge at the sight of her. Sighing, Y/N used the last five minutes of class to scrawl answers to the rest of the test on her page, hoping at least some of them were right.

“Time’s up, everyone!” Mr. Leven clapped, jolting the entire class out of their heads with the sudden noise. “Please drop your papers on my desk on your way out, and I’ll have them back to you on Friday.” Y/N gathered her things and shoved them into her backpack, pulling out her phone and turning it off ‘Do Not Disturb’. She quickly replied to a text from Lauren about dinner, stating she would be home in an hour or so to cook. Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, Y/N pulled the paper off the desk and fumbled with the sheets in line to the desk at the front of the class. Her thumb slid against a sheet the wrong way, causing a sharp sting to arise. She winced and jolted her hand away from the page, turning her hand over to assess. A small bead of blood was slowly pooling diagonally across the pad of her thumb. Y/N wrinkled her nose at it and placed it to her lips as she dropped her paper on top of the pile on Mr. Leven’s desk. She gently ran her tongue over the open wound, pushing the door open with her shoulder as the metallic taste began to envelop her mouth. She was not expecting to slam into a brick wall of a person, causing her to bite down hard on her thumb as the two stumbled backward after their collision.

“Fuck!” Y/N yelped as the heel of her boot clipped the same piece of pavement that Peter had tripped over less than half an hour ago. With pain shooting down her thumb, she didn’t have time to register that she was headed face-first to the ground, until an arm wrapped around her waist and caught her, allowing her to regain her balance. Heart racing, she planted both her feet solidly on the ground before the mysterious person released her from their grasp.

“Are you okay?” Y/N recognised the voice before her brain registered the face in front of her. Still shaking the pain away from her thumb, she tensed, shuffling backward to create space between her and Peter.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just bit my thumb. Are you?” Peter’s eyes flickered down to her hand and back up to her face. She couldn’t get a read on his expression, except for the flush that creeped his way up to the tip of his ears.

“Yep, totally fine,” Peter stammered. “Uh, how did you bite your thumb?”

Y/N lifted her hand, giving Peter a half-hearted thumbs-up as she displayed her wound.

“Paper cut. I was trying to stop the bleeding.”

“Oh – do you want a bandage for that?”

“No, no, it’s fine-“

“I have one right here.” Peter pulled a small package out of his pocket, tearing a bandage off the strip and handing it to her. Catching Y/N’s furrowed brow, he explained. “I get injured a lot- um, I mean, in a ‘trip and fall’ kind of way, not like in a weird way...” Peter’s sentence trailed off as he realised he was rambling.

“Um, thanks. And thanks for catching me.”

“Don’t mention it. Uh, I gotta go.” Peter pulled the door open and slipped inside, leaving Y/N to stand facing the courtyard in bewilderment. That was the longest conversation they had ever had. If Y/N didn’t understand Peter Parker beforehand, she certainly didn’t understand him any more now.

...

Y/N kept herself busy over the next few days, trying not to think about how fucked her GPA was going to be once she received her algebra test results back. Fortunately, she had plenty else to keep her brain active throughout the week. Between her other classes, shifts at the library, and catching up with people other than her roommate Lauren, Y/N barely had had time to herself.

Still, there was this lingering thought that crept into her subconscious just as she transitioned each night from lucidity to unconsciousness. Y/N found herself dreaming of honey-brown eyes, stuttered sentences…and falling. No matter what Y/N seemed to dream about lately, she was always tumbling, fast to the floor – and something, or someone, was always there to catch her just before she jolted awake.

Friday morning came faster than she had anticipated. The sense of dread continued to encompass more of Y/N’s mind with each step that she took toward Mr. Leven’s classroom. Peter would most likely get an A, without trying, which only riled Y/N up even more as she pushed the door open to the class.

The class was a blur. To say that Y/N wasn’t paying attention was an understatement. Scrolling through social media on her laptop passed the time while she waited for the inevitable. Five minutes before the class ended, the words she had been dreading all morning were spoken.

“I have your tests here,” Mr Leven waved a stack of papers above his head, earning some groans from the collective of students. “Some of you did brilliantly. Others,” Mr. Leven made brief eye contact with Y/N before scanning over the rest of the class, “will need to brush up on their algebraic knowledge before the final.�� Y/N sunk lower in her chair. “Please come retrieve your papers before you leave.”

Y/N slowly packed up her things off the tiny fold-out desk attached to the side of her chair. She took her time replying to a message from Lauren about their dinner plans for tonight, as the rest of the class grabbed their tests and filed out of the room. Once majority of the students had left, Y/N stood up and made her way over to Mr. Leven’s desk.

“Excellent work as always, Mr. Parker. And thank you for your help, in advance.” Mr. Leven handed the test over to him, a glowing 99/100 marked clearly at the top of the front page. Peter’s eyes flicked to meet Y/N’s, then quickly met the ground again. She heard a quick ‘thank you’ mumbled from under Peter’s breath as he swiftly grabbed the pages and strode out of the room. Y/N was now the only student in the classroom.

“Mr. Leven, I-“

“I must say, Miss Y/L/N,” Mr. Leven cut her sentence short as he handed her test back, now the only one in his hand. The numbers 52/100 shone like a red laser, the ink standing out in juxtaposition against the stark white sheet. “I expected much more from you.”

“I know,” she replied, eyes lowered to the floor. Tears threatened to prick in the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back before they had time to accumulate. “I don’t really have an excuse either. I just didn’t study enough.”

“You’re a smart woman, Y/N,” She forced a grim smile on her lips, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I know you’ll improve on this. Perhaps a tutor would help?”

Y/N pondered the question for a moment. Maybe a tutor would help. Half of her issue was that she never dedicated time to study; having time allocated each week would probably increase her grade exponentially. She’s sure she could ask Lauren for some help, or even –

“I’ve asked Mr. Parker to assist you in preparation for the final.”

He had to be fucking kidding.

Out of everyone in the class, and outside of it, it had to be Peter. She would have preferred to contact Einstein’s ghost with a Ouija board before having to try and converse with the one person who seemed to avoid her at all costs. Had Peter agreed to this? Y/N’s eye twitched, but she knew if she had any chance of her passing this class, she had to do everything that Mr. Leven said.

“Thanks,” Y/N said, attempting to be as enthusiastic as possible. “I really appreciate it.” She headed out of the building, stopping to pull her sunglasses out of her bag when the sunlight hit her face. She checked her watch, noting how much time she had before her next class. She sighed. Six more hours of classes and then she could finally go home and finish this day off with a shot of tequila and a self-prescribed bedtime of 9pm.

Ten hours and four tequila sunrises later, Y/N was relaxing on the couch, waiting for an appropriate time to head to bed. She had spent the last hour and a half complaining about her algebra class to Lauren, who was being less than helpful with her responses.

“Come on,” Lauren protested, moving to face Y/N, legs criss-crossing on top of one another on the couch. “Peter’s lovely. He’s in my calculus class and he’s so nice to everyone. Plus, that boy is a genius. If anyone can move you from a C to an A, he can.”

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with him too,” Y/N rolled her eyes as her thoughts trailed to Tara, how she sat up and tried to subtly fix her hair whenever he walked in. It was obvious she had a thing for him. Y/N would know, she did the same thing whenever Tara spoke to her. She finished the rest of her drink and set the empty cup down on the coffee table in front of her. The orange juice and cheap raspberry cordial (they were on a college budget and couldn’t afford proper grenadine) masked the bitter taste of the alcohol, although tequila was one of the few on the list of spirits that didn’t make Y/N’s stomach turn upside down. She could barely even look at a bottle of Midori without wanting to turn the exact same shade of green herself.

“What has he ever done to you?”

“Nothing. That’s the problem.” Y/N stole some corn chips from the bag in Lauren’s lap, earning a scoff from her roommate. Munching on them, she continued. “He avoids me like the plague. The other day, we bumped into each other, and it was like I had a contagious disease. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough.” Y/N omitted the part about him giving her a bandage for her finger, knowing Lauren would pounce on that information like a cat stalking prey. She looked down and examined the wound, now scabbed over and well on its way to healing. If she pressed down hard on her thumb it hurt, but other than that, she almost completely forgot it was there.

“He’s probably just shy. He seems pretty quiet in calculus.” Y/N let out a small ‘hmmph’ in protest, knowing she was not going to win this argument. “Just give him a chance.”

As if on cue, Y/N’s phone vibrated on the coffee table. She stood up and grabbed it, raising it to her face to unlock it.

Hey! It’s Peter Parker, I don’t know whether you still have my number saved. So Mr. Leven asked me to help you out with algebra. Just let me know when you’re free and I’ll make it work!

“Speak of the devil,” Y/N sighed. “Peter just messaged me. And I think on that note, I’m going to bed.”

Once Y/N had settled into her bed for the night, she decided to pull up the message from Peter again. She had been scouring her brain for the last five minutes trying to remember when she had given him her number, then eventually remembered that they had been in a group project last year. A project where Peter hadn’t spoken to her once. She decided to reply as cordially as possible.

Hi, yeah thanks for that. I’m free on Sunday if that works? We can meet in the library any time you want.

Before she had time to put her phone down, a reply had come through.

Okay, cool! I can meet you there at 11?

Sounds good, Y/N replied. See you then.

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eggjorp · 3 years

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Ch2 - Boxers or Briefs?

Main Masterlist

3AM Masterlist

Chapter 1 - Insomnia

Notes: swearing, angst, comedy, 3k

You end up drifting off at around six and wake up to both your alarm blaring at half past eight and your head throbbing with a similar kind of ring. You get out of bed, sighing as you trudge to the bathroom, getting ready for class.

You swap your pyjama bottoms for jeans and throw a hoodie on top, grabbing the bag you carefully packed the night before (one of your few good habits) and a banana you stuff into your mouth as you leave. Once you arrive in class you silently sit next to your group of friends and grab the closest source of caffeine.

“Black coffee? Are you fucking with me? You’re such an old man oh my god!” you exclaim after taking a big gulp of the stolen coffee.

“Yet you’re still happily drinking it? Fuck off that’s mine, you kept me up late I need it!” Doyoung retorts.

“I didn’t do shit actually. If I remember correctly you told me to shut the fuck up and you went to bed. And you ignored me! A lot! I told you, I’m sensitive!” you pout as you hand him back his coffee. During this interaction the rest of your friends sit there in confusion, you don’t bother trying to explain, not enough energy.

“Okay did y’all fuck or what?” Jaehyun asks pointedly, and Johnny tuts at him for his explicitness. Instead of replying you wink at Jaehyun and ignore Doyoung’s disapproving glare. Jaehyun gasps dramatically, “Oh my god y’all really fucked? I thought you guys were like archenemies, but FINALLY!” his words catch the attention of the people sitting around but it doesn’t last long as he offers them his signature charming smile as an apology.

“We didn’t fuck, they texted me at three am and five am, calling me a bum and a poopyhead? They’re actually so immature. How you’re at such a prestigious university I’ll never understand. Perhaps you paid your way in? Fucked the dean of admissions?” he turns to you, quirking his eyebrow.

You give him a smirk, “Darling, you don’t need to worry about how eventful my sex life is. If I were you I’d worry about yours.” you poke, knowing full well Doyoung prioritises his studies over relationships. It is something you admire but you would never tell him that, god no, you would never give him the satisfaction.

“Should I be envious that your grades resemble your sex life? Full of Ds?” he snaps back, and you purse your lips to stop a snort, as you reach down to pull your laptop out of your bag and hide your face.

Before the lecture starts you reach your hand over Jaehyun to grab Doyoung’s coffee once more, finishing it with a quick gulp before smiling sweetly and dropping it into the bin beside you at the end of the row.

“That was uncalled for.” Doyoung’s jaw tenses and he glares at you. If eyes could kill, you would be dead ten times over by now. Nothing new though, you’ve grown immune to his stare considering how many times you’ve fallen victim to it. Annoying Doyoung is the highlight of your day—no, week— and has become part of your routine.

“Guess what?” you lean over the desk and beckon Doyoung to lean over and meet you in the middle. He stares at you blankly, refusing to move, and you roll your eyes, “Your face was uncalled for.” you grin, once more, before returning to your seat and focusing your attention on the start of the lecture.

“For fucks sake, the stubble in my armpits keeps stabbing me. It's so uncomfortable!” you rub at them, hoping to soothe the skin. Johnny laughs and Doyoung rolls his eyes. “I don’t think that’s information we needed to know.”

“Your face isn’t information we needed to know.” you bite back, sticking your tongue out at him, watching his jaw tense and teeth grinding.

“You know, if you keep grinding your teeth like that, you’re gonna flatten them all. You’re gonna look like an old man with no teeth at the age of 25!” you snort, pointing your finger at him.

“I wouldn’t grind them if you didn’t stress me out so much!” he scoffs.

“I wouldn’t stress you out if you didn’t stress me out!” you immediately return. Johnny is laughing at you both for the entire duration of this conversation and inwardly you congratulate yourself for providing such brilliant entertainment.

“What the fuck do I do?” he asks as you three reach the McDonald’s, “You exist.” you deadpan, ignoring him as you walk past him to get into line. He rolls his eyes for about the twentieth time today and doesn’t respond. Doyoung decides it’s better to ignore you back.

“Johnny, Dongyoung, what do you guys want?” you ask.

“Umm, cheeseburger, fries, strawberry milkshake,” Johnny responds, followed by silence. You look expectantly at Doyoung.

“Hey? You big bum, what do you want?” you ask Doyoung, poking his side. He falters for a second, “Uh, Chicken nuggets, Large.”

You nod and turn to order, “But why?” you look back at him, confused, “Why are you ordering me food?”

This time it’s you who rolls their eyes, “Are you rejecting free food? Okay, I see how it is.”

“No, I’m not! Just wondering...” you ignore and order, telling them to sit down as you wait for your food. Once you return with the food you sit down, drinking your hot chocolate and munching on some chips.

“Yo, have you guys watched the new Pokémon movie yet?” Johnny asks. You shake your head.

“It’s probably gonna be shit. People go for the Pokémon, not the plot.” Doyoung pokes. “The plot is the Pokémon you dumbass,” you respond.

“Regardless of the plot or the Pokémon let’s go watch it!” Johnny suggests excitedly. Reluctantly you all make your way to the cinema, buying a large popcorn to share, and get your tickets for the movie.

“Hey, Doyoung?”

“What?”

“You’re an expired waffle.” The room may be dark, but you don’t need light to know that Doyoung was rolling his eyes.

“You’re a useless paperclip.” he retorts and at this, you gasp “Kim Dongyoung how fucking dare you.”

He smirks and feigns innocence, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You narrow your eyes at him and give his wrist a light slap, “You know exactly what I’m talking about! I used that insult and you said it was dumb and now you’re using it!”

Doyoung slaps your wrist back, “A dumb insult for a dumb person eh?” your mouth is wide open. You’re astounded that he dares give you this attitude, so you do what any normal person does— you grab a handful of popcorn and drop it down his shirt.

This, of course, causes Doyoung to yell and a little girl to stand up from her seat, turn around and say, “Excuse me can you please be quiet?” Doyoung grabs at your hand, still hovering over his shirt and you both politely apologise. Johnny is cracking up, as expected, and Doyoung is boiling with anger. You can practically see the steam tumbling out of his ears and the scowl across his face is clear in the light from the screen.

“You’re helping me get it off!” still with your hand in his grasp he stands up, pulling you along with him, and some popcorn falling to the floor with a crackle.

“What the fuck am I meant to do?” you whisper but he pays you no attention and urges you to walk down the stairs. The audible crunch of the stray popcorn under your feet after every step makes you wince and Doyoung’s grip on your wrist remains tight. Reluctantly you follow him out of the theatre doors.

“You’re such a fucking child! Now I have popcorn stuck in my boxers, Y/N, my BOXERS!” he frantically pulls on his shirt, trying to rid himself of the small kernels.

“You seem more of a briefs guy to me...” you respond with a cheeky smile, attempting to keep the mood light-hearted.

“You’re going to pay for this!”

“Hey, I bought you McDonald's, didn’t I?”

“That doesn’t give you a free pass to shove popcorn down my shirt! What is it with you, seriously!” his irritation only heightens with your responses, allowing for some harsh words to fall from his mouth.

“Do you have any common sense at all? We’re trying to watch a movie for god’s sake, and you’re just playing around like an immature child! Can you not be sensible for one fucking moment?” you furrow your eyebrows while listening to him berate you.

“Alright there, Mr Kim, maybe you wanna slow down for a second? Go clean yourself up and take a breath.” you try to be the sensible adult he doesn’t think you can be and hold back with further insults.

“Oh great, now I seem like the bad guy,” he says, giving up in trying to rid himself of the popcorn remains.

“Don’t worry, we know in this situation you’re the adult and I’m the child you get to lecture.” You cross your arms and squint at him, struggling to hold in your own irritation.

“Your passive-aggressiveness is really subtle you know!” you take a step closer and tilt your head with a sweet smile, “Well I learnt from the best!”.

His jaw tenses and your eyes quickly flit to it before returning to his, “Seriously, stop grinding your teeth— but you don’t need to take my advice! Who in their right mind would listen to an immature child, right?”

You try to walk past him to go back into the theatre but Doyoung lightly grasps your forearm. “I didn’t mean what I said...”

You turn to look back, faces only centimetres away but eyes filled with spite, “Yes, you did. In your eyes I’m nothing but an irritating child, but you’re right so it’s fine.” you yank your arm away and re-enter the theatre, returning to your seat.

“Everything okay?” Johnny asks.

“Yep. He just got really pissed.”

“Oh, because of the popcorn?” Johnny offers you a sympathetic smile.

“Because I’m apparently immature and dumb and can’t be sensible.” you scoff.

“I mean, you did chuck popcorn down his shirt...”

“And he’s slipped ice down the back of mine? It’s mutual. Or at least I thought it was.” you sigh, frustrated that the day had to turn sour so quickly for no good reason.

You and Johnny end the conversation there, even when Doyoung returns. The extent of any other conversations consisting of the occasional comment about the movie. The movie ends, and you take your time getting up, stretching your limbs and yawning.

“That was actually a decent movie.” Johnny expresses.

“Yeah, it was okay, but I feel like it was more plot twist than plot,” you joke, both boys chuckle and hum in agreement but you pay no attention to Doyoung.

“Let’s go get sushi?” Johnny suggests. You groan in response “I’m a broke bitch and I bought us all McDonald’s earlier! Only if you pay?” you give Johnny a sweet smile, but he responds with a look of pity, “Hoe, I’m broke too...”

After exchanging a knowing look for a few moments, you both turn to Doyoung with that same sweet smile, and he knows exactly what you want.

“Ugh fine, but there’s a cap on how much you can spend!” he groans and begins walking ahead while you and Johnny cheer together.

Johnny links his arms with yours as you follow Doyoung to the restaurant, the time filled with absentminded chatter.

“Alright fellas, I need to go to the toilet, don’t kill each other while I’m away!” both you and your frenemy roll your eyes and ignore him, continuing to eat your meals.

After about thirty seconds Doyoung breaks the silence, “I’m sorry about earlier.” and while you would love to snap back with something rude and witty, you swallow your anger and echo his short apology.

Johnny comes back and, although you still aren’t speaking, he can sense the tension has dissipated and is content with the progress. A few more jokes and beers later you all end up outside of the restaurant, Johnny insisting he’s fine even though he keeps mixing up his home address with a bar nearby and you send him home by taxi, opting for a train as you’re not sure your bank account could take another hit.

As you and Doyoung live relatively close you take the same train home and so are walking to the same train station.

“Uh, can we stop here for a second? I need to get some things.” he pauses outside of a convenience store and you give him a small nod. A few minutes later he remerges with a white carrier bag in his hands.

The pair of you continue walking, breathing in the cold air, and he pulls out an item from the carrier bag, grasping your hand and placing the item in your palm, before closing your fist and giving it a tight squeeze.

“Drink this tea before bed, it’ll make you sleepy, there’s no caffeine.” you chuckle quietly at his gesture and tuck it inside your backpack.

“Why did you get me this?”

“I didn’t want to wake up to your dumb messages calling me a poopyhead,” he complains of fake annoyance.

The corners of your lips turn up slightly and you utter a soft “Thank you,” but that’s all until you get to the train station and make your way onto the train.

The lights are bright compared to the dark sky presented behind the dusty window. A few people are scattered along the carriage, a man in formal wear, a few students, an older woman, and some young men.

A stop in you hear a whisper in your ear,

“Actually, I do wear briefs but they’re all in the wash so I had to resort to boxers,” at first it startles you, not expecting the warm breath, but you smile and turn to look at him. Doyoung tries to suppress a smile and look straight ahead but as you continue to stare at him, laughing quietly, he can’t help but let a few noises escape. He then quickly buries his face in his hands and you both melt into a pile of giggles.

“I can still feel the popcorn scratching my chest,” he says in-between snorts, “You deserved it, to be honest,” you counter,

“You always say I deserved it!”

“That’s because you do!”

Your loud laughter gains the attention of the few people in the carriage and you begin shushing each other, it doesn’t make it any better, but you continue regardless.

A few seconds later Doyoung grabs at your hand and pulls you up, “Our stop!” dragging you along and he runs off the train. It takes you a few seconds to realise what’s happening but you’re already off the train, hearing the beeping signifying the doors are closing only moments before you leapt out. Doyoung stops suddenly and you crash into his side, unprepared for it.

“Woah there!” you grab onto his arm for stability, “I can’t believe we almost missed our stop,”

Doyoung laughs and starts walking towards the exit, “See, I’m so reliable. Unlike someone...”

You roll your eyes, “I almost got smushed by those doors, less reliable more lucky!”

He looks at you with fake offence, a hand on his chest in a mock upset, “You’re just rude that's what you are.”

“You’re just rude, that's what you are.” you imitate him with a high pitched voice, and he narrows his eyes at you before shoving your hand off his arm and speeding his walking up.

“Nooo! Doyoung! Don’t be mad!” he continues to walk away silently, and you speed up to match his tempo. You get to the crossing where you go separate ways, he continues without you and so you get his attention the only way you can.

“WE’LL TAKE THE HIGHWAY TO HEAVEN AND I CAN’T WAIT TO LOVE YOU ALL ALONE—” he runs after you and slams his hands over your mouth to stop your screeching, taking a few steps backwards due to the force of colliding. He lowers his hand slightly to your shoulder and places his other hand on your back to stop you both from falling.

You hold onto his jacket and laugh, and his head hangs low in shame, “I can’t believe you I really can’t. You’re insane, you know that right?” you continue to giggle and just nod in response. He shakes his head, but you can see the corners of his lips turning up, “I should’ve left you on that train when I had the chance.”

“Nooo,” you whine, “You can’t leave ME! I’m your BEST FRIEND!” he gives you a dirty look and you shift your attention to the other students passing by in a group, “Guys! I’m his best friend!” they just chuckle, and one yells “That’s nice!”

You turn back to Doyoung, who is groaning and embarrassed, “You’re not my best friend! We’re enemies, remember?” he widens his eyes and shakes his head at you, “That’s not what you were saying last night...” you trail off. He narrows his eyes again, “Last night you called me a poopy head and I told you to go to sleep...”

“Didn’t say I was your enemy though!”

“Didn’t say you were my best friend though!” he offers you another dirty look and you pout in response.

“Hey, Kim Dongyoung, don’t be mean!”

“I’m not! I’m—”

“BABY YOU A BAD GIRL WATCH YOUR MOUTH—” he pulls at your jacket to try and drag you home, “Shut up you’re gonna wake everyone up!”

You let him drag you, reluctantly, “No I won’t, I’m not even that loud!”

“We’ll take the highway to heaven,” you finish with a sulk.

“I swear to god you’re such a child!” he groans.

“Yeah, but I’m your child.” you retort and he looks at you in confusion,

“I’m not your dad?” you wink in response, knowing full well you’re not making any sense, and he lets go of your jacket, shoving you away, the playful atmosphere quickly being replaced by a cold one. You finally feel the cool breeze of the wind and there’s a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Why do you always do this Doyoung?” you’ve both stopped on the side of the road.

“Do what?” he asks, his expression showing irritation.

“We’re having fun messing about and then you get all cold and icy. Just like at the cinema.” you finally spill what’s been on your mind for a while now.

“I don’t! You put popcorn down my shirt, of course I was gonna react like that— if anything you took it too far!”

“That’s just how we play around is it not? You’ve done plenty of similar things. I honestly thought we were friends who joke around that they hate each other, but I guess not. I guess you really do hate me and you’re just not able to tolerate my bullshit anymore.” he furrows his eyebrows and opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t give him the chance.

“Goodbye, Doyoung.” you say before walking away, leaving him standing in the cold.

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ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 4 years

Text

Day 23

Prompt: At a certain age you switch bodies with your soulmate for 24 hours.

Word Count: 2,076

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01, @spoopy-turtle, @lizluvscupcakes, @more-fandon-than-friends, @i-cant-find-a-good-username, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @justaqueercactus, @gayboopnoodle, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart, @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun, sirprplsnail

Soulmate taglist:(Send an ask to be added or removed!) @elizabutgayer, @melodiread, @tsshipmonth2020, @mikalya12, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart

CW: Food, implied abusive household, one (1) curse word.

Virgil rolled over, hand smacking to turn off an alarm he didn’t remember setting. Eyes opening, he found the world to be fuzzy and out of focus. He noticed the sheets surrounding him were softer than anything he’d ever felt before. Glancing at the side table, he noticed a white notecard sitting atop a black cylinder. Reaching forward, he picked up both items. The cylinder fell open and a pair of glasses tumbled to the sheets. Virgil picked them up and put them on, groaning in relief at being able to see, the eye strain he hadn’t even noticed disappearing.

Looking down at the notecard, he found neat handwriting on it. ‘Greetings! My name is Logan Croft. I am 20 years old. If you are reading this, that means you are my soulmate and have turned 18. You are free to eat anything that is in the kitchen however I must ask that you refrain from eating peanuts of any kind throughout the day as I am severely allergic. My schedule for the day is on the kitchen table. Happy birthday.’ Great, he thought. I thought I had another year until this.

Virgil rolled out of bed, moving to the mirror propped in the corner to look at the face he’d be wearing for the next twenty-four hours. His hair was slightly mussed from sleep and his night clothes hung from the tall and lanky frame. Lifting the shirt, he was surprised to find a muscular abdomen. He turned, sorting through the closet for something he could stand to wear for the day. It was filled with business casual to formal which made Virgil think he was a business major of some sort.

Thinking that he’d decide after breakfast, he walked to the kitchen and found the schedule. Picking it up, he found a loaf of bread and made some toast as he read over it. Glancing at the kitchen clock, he saw that the first class was in twenty minutes. He grabbed the toast and ran back to the bedroom, not wanting to be late for class. The class list seemed more in line with a marine biology major than a business one but he still put on a polo and jeans. He would have attempted the tie but he’d never been taught how. Then, with toast in his mouth and the schedule in hand, he quickly pulled up a navigation app and was out the front door.

~~~~~~

Logan woke to a loud and annoying song blaring near his ear. He sat straight up in bed, taking a second to notice that his vision wasn’t blurry before he turned to riffle under the pillow. He felt a rectangle and pulled it out, finding a phone that was quite a few years past its usefulness. He swiped it open and turned off the alarm, the music cutting off.

He slid off the bed, feet hitting a cold floor, before looking around the room. He found a clean, if bare, room with papers strewn across a desk in the corner and a purple hoodie tossed over the back of the desk chair. He moved over to the desk, picking up a paper to find math equations scrawled over them, the name Virgil Stern written neatly at the top.

“Hello, soulmate.” He whispered quietly to himself, the voice raspy with sleep. He glanced up, seeing his reflection in the cracked mirror covering the closet door. There were dark circles much larger than he knew was healthy under his eyes.

Before he could get a better look, a voice cut through the silence. “Virgil, if you don’t get down here soon you’re gonna be late and I’m not waiting for you!” The shout from outside the door was combined with pounding.

Logan took that as his cue to dress. Picking up the hoodie, he made his way to the closet and threw on a tattered looking shirt and some ripped black jeans. Slinging the hoodie over his shoulders, he snatched up the bag next to the chair. He found a list on the desk that seemed to contain what was needed for the day. Seeing the class schedule on the back, he shoved it into the bag.

He heard footsteps outside the door and tore out of the room, running down the stairs. “I’m coming!” He called.

“It’s about time!” The woman standing at the door exclaimed. Logan ducked his head, passing her on his way out. He stood uncertainly on the walk, not knowing what to do. The woman waited for five other teens to pass her before she closed the door. Logan silently followed the others to a minivan, sliding in with the ones who looked closest to Virgil’s age.

~~~~~~

Virgil got through the first class just fine, taking as detailed notes as he could. He had no idea what was going on or what his soulmate might need so he wrote down everything that seemed important, which meant he was one step away from writing down the whole lecture. He was on his way to the next class, searching the sides of buildings for names, when he heard someone call Logan’s name.

Turning, he saw someone running toward him so he slowed down slightly. When the person caught up with him, they looked like they were about to time travel to the past. Virgil couldn’t help but chuckle. “Is it dress like a pirate day and no one told me?” He immediately wished he hadn’t spoken.

The stranger just put their hands on their hips and laughed. “Logan, how have I not told you about the most recent play I’m in?”

Virgil just chuckled. “Uh, you might have at one point. I’m not myself today.”

The stranger laughed with him. “You could say that again. So, did you and your soulmate swap?”

Virgil sighed. “I have no idea how to act like Logan.”

The person laughed, sticking out a hand. “I’m Roman, his best friend. I go by they/them pronouns.”

Virgil smiled, shaking their hand. “Virgil; he/him.”

Roman smiled. “Cool. Logan also goes by he/him. Come on,” they began walking and Virgil fell in step, “We have classes near each other so we usually walk together anyways.”

Virgil smiled. “So, what’s your play about?” Roman launched into a detailed explanation of it while Virgil was just glad to not have to think or do anything besides walk and listen for a few minutes.

The peace was over as they arrived at the next class and Virgil once again had no idea what was going on. He followed along and took notes just short of being the transcription for the lecture, trying to get down everything. Luckily, it didn’t look like Logan had any classes after this so he was free to meet up with Roman and simply follow them around as needed. He ended up spending the rest of the day sitting in the theatre while Roman ran lines and did the costume practice. He even got the chance to meet Roman’s soulmate, Patton.

~~~~~~

Logan was in his own personal hell. He had to deal with so many rowdy people in one car, high school again, and people who obviously didn’t care about his soulmate. For goodness sake, none of them had even mentioned that it should be Virgil’s eighteenth birthday. They should have known it was coming, they should have asked about it, done something. Instead, he got a lecture in the car ride about needing better sleep habits.

When he got to the school, he was almost instantly attacked from behind. Muscle memory moved the body before he even thought, throwing the person over his shoulder and flat onto their back in front of him. Logan took the few seconds while the person was getting up to wonder why that was the first instinct.

“Hiya, Verb!” The person said, dusting the front of their clothes off.

Logan straightened his backpack and frowned. “Am I supposed to know you?”

The person laughed. “Wow, looks like your soulmate is a year older than you, Virge. Or, I guess I should use your name, Virgil’s soulmate?”

Logan began walking into the building and Virgil’s friend followed. “My name is Logan. I’m assuming Virgil’s eighteenth birthday is today as I’ve been twenty for almost five months.”

The person snapped, reaching a hand out to shake Logan’s. “Well, my name is Remus but Verb normally calls me Stinky. What should I call you?”

“Logan will suffice. I’m assuming we have the same classes? I don’t know this school’s layout.”

Remus nodded. “Yep! Just stick with me and you’ll be fine, friendo!”

They went through the rest of the day at each other’s sides. Logan took as detailed notes as he deemed necessary, the important things from what he remembered. At lunch, he was informed that Virgil and everyone around him thought that he was turning seventeen today instead of eighteen. When he asked about that, he was told that Virgil had been in the foster system for a while and had to repeat a grade due to bad home life disrupting his grades.

The end of the day came and he went back to the front of the school with Remus, having to pack himself into the van with the other kids. He sent a quick, “Bye, Stinky!” for show before the door closed. He spent the rest of the ride in silence but his thoughts were racing. His mind was made up as they arrived at home, Logan instantly going up the stairs to do Virgil’s homework for him. On a scrap piece of paper, he wrote his phone number down before pausing.

Carefully, he began writing in his neatest handwriting. ‘I don’t know you yet, but I want to. I want to know what your laugh sounds like when I’m the one making you laugh. I want to know what you think about late at night. I want to know you. I want you to know me, to know whatever you want about me, to know my darkest secret and know I give it willingly. I want to know you and be known by you. I can’t wait to meet you, no matter how long it takes. I hope you had a good birthday and that Roman took you out for ice cream or something. I hope you know you are loved and appreciated.’

He went about making the bed and neatening up the room as much as he could. If he couldn’t be there to wish his soulmate a happy birthday, he could at least give him a nice present. That present might not be an expensive item, but it could be finished homework, a clean room, and a good night’s rest.

~~~~~~

The end of the time came and they swapped back at midnight. Both soulmates’ best friend filled them in on the events of the day and everything their soulmate did. After all, it was a few years before they met again.

When they did, it was by complete chance, as most soul meetings went. It was outside an aquarium. Logan was just getting off his shift and Virgil was going to the donut shop across the street from it. Logan saw him and paused. “Virgil?” He called.

Virgil turned, trying to find the voice that had been his own for a day and still populated his dreams and evenings, the nightly calls coming to mind. His name was called again and he saw the figure standing across the street. He waved and watched as Logan came across to him, a smile on his face. “Logan, hi.”

Logan couldn’t help but reach forward, hand brushing Virgil’s in a silent ask for permission to hold it. Virgil’s smile grew as he turned his hand to take Logan’s. “You know,” Virgil began, “I was just about to grab a donut if you wanted to join me?”

Logan smiled. “I’d love to, soulmate.” The word was said as both an endearment and a promise. A promise of a life spent together, of days starting and ending with each other, of a shelter and a place to relax without having to hide any part of himself. An endearment of love, of someone worth loving, and that was all that Virgil needed. If he hadn’t been in love with his soulmate already, he would have fallen in that moment for that one word that held so much.

#tsshipmonth2020 #soulmate au #analogical #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #angst with some fluff thrown in for variety #ace writes

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vintage-squid · 4 years

Text

The Fruits of Love

Summary: "When we first met, you thought I was a pompous airhead and I thought you were nothing short of insufferable. If anyone had told me then I would one day spend my mornings waking up in your arms and kissing your illegally handsome face, I’d have told them to take a long walk off a short pier." Logan can't believe the wedding is finally happening, but even his nerves can't stop him from marrying the prince of his dreams.

Pairings: Logan/Roman, brotherly Virgil/Logan, background Virgil/Deceit/Patton

Rating: G Warnings: a whole heckin lotta fluff On AO3

I realized I never posted this to tumblr lol, so here yall go

-----

Logan exhaled deep and slow as he took one final look at himself in the full-length mirror. He smoothed his hands over the skirt of his dress, trying to focus on the sensation of smooth silk and textured ruffle rather than the clammy chill that had settled into his palms. The layers over his hips accented his low curves, holding him in an embrace as comforting as his fiance did each night. There was not a crinkle to be found in the fabric, nor a hair out of place from his wavy curls, and yet he felt as disheveled as the dressing room around him, which had been cleared of his half of their wedding party only moments before as they scrambled to get the finishing touches of their outfits in order before the ceremony.

Now, the groom-to-be was alone with his thoughts and a raising heart rate. He could do this, there was no reason for the flush of nervousness that sent a cool tingly sensation to the tips of his manicured fingers and toes (styled like miniature galaxies, of course, his brother was an exceptional artist, even with nail polish). There were less people out there than in any of his lectures, and all of the audience would be close friends and family, and yet...and yet…

He startled when someone softly knocked on the door, looking over his shoulder to see his brother, and best man, peeking in.

“You almost ready?” Virgil asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. With what was likely a pitiful expression, Logan turned and reached for his older brother. Virgil didn’t hesitate to step closer, gathering him close. He cupped Logan’s face, smoothing his thumbs over his brother’s cheeks and drawing him close to touch their foreheads together. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, LB. The love of your life is waiting for you out there, annoying as ever, but looking damn good too. Just don’t tell him I said that, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Logan huffed a small laugh, both at Virgil’s never-ending rivalry with his fiance, and the childhood nickname he would never shake - not that he wanted to. LB. Logan Baras. Little Brother. Logan Berries. Lotsa Binch. Really, it was getting ridiculous at this point, but it was an in-joke that had been evolving since they were in grade school. It was also part of the reason why Logan had asked to keep his last name, or hyphenate the two, after the wedding; he couldn’t bear to part with such an ingrained part of himself. Thankfully, Baras-Sanders rolled off the tongue quite nicely, in his opinion.

He raised his hands, mirroring his elder brother’s position to cradle Virgil’s face in turn. “I swear that will remain between you and I, else I will never hear the end of his gloating over your compliment either.” The pair chuckled before Logan trailed off with a sigh. “I .. I am…” A second shaky exhale. “I’m anxious, VB.” Virgil Baras. Very (Big) Brother. Vigilant Bro-tector. Vain Bastard. An eye for an eye, as they say. “I know our friends and family support our relationship, but many of them are unaware that I will be wearing a dress and make-up! Not to mention how unorthodox our choice of venue is - I can’t believe I let him talk me into hosting our wedding at his theater, and -”

“Hey!” Virgil’s low voice cut him off with a small shake of his head. “Hey... it’s my job to be the worry-wart here, remember? Deep breaths, okay? And stop chewing on your lip! Do you know how long it took me to get that ombre just right?”

Logan rolled his eyes, but obliged; he really didn’t want to sit through another session of his brother’s perfectionist fussing.

“Now, you look fucking amazing. Like damn gurl, slay it.” Virgil’s deadpanned drawl in a mockery of their mutual friend, Remy, had Logan snorting a giggle. “But seriously, LB, I can promise you that everyone out there is going to be stunned at how gorgeous this dress is, and how radiant you are… and no one more than that idiot you fell in love with. You’re gonna walk out there, and Za is gonna be with you to walk you down the aisle, and mom will be crying, and I’m gonna waiting on stage too, but you’re only gonna have eyes for the man you are marrying today.”

With a shaky smile and watery eyes, Logan lunged forward to wrap is older brother in a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of the other’s shoulder. “The proper pronunciation is ‘going to’, and I love you so goddamn much, VB.” Pulling back, he cycled a deep breath, and squeezed Virgil’s upper arms gently. “Thank you. Now, I believe we have a wedding to attend.”

Walking out of the dressing room arm-in-arm, the brothers snuck around the side doors so they could enter the theatre from the foyer with the rest of the wedding party. The assorted group of groomsmen, groomsladies, and friends of honour turned as they approached, the other best man breaking away to sweep Logan into a hug.

“Oh Lolo! You look stunning!” Patton pulled back, stars in his eyes as he looked over the whorls of colour covering the ballgown-style dress. “Wow…. This dress is absolutely perfect on you! And it matches your pretty make-up! Oh!! This is so wonderful!!” He fanned his face, trying to hold back the tears that were already threatening to fall. “I can’t believe you two are finally getting married!”

A blush graced Logan’s cheeks with a soft smile. “I cannot either; it feels like a dream come true.”

“Speaking of the wedding - we really need to get that started here, people!” A voice cut in, drawing the group’s attention to the ring-and-flower bearer of the ceremony. Denali approached the trio, slipping their hands into both Virgil and Patton’s. Their outfit was a delightful mix of both their genders: the tighter bodice giving way to a flared coattail-skirt with striped pants matched well with their colourful make-up - done on only one half of their face. The ensemble was completed with a wide-brimmed hat topped with an extravagantly flowing feather. “I love that you’re all being cutesy over here, I really do, but I don’t want to have to listen to Roman whine later that we left him standing at the altar. So-” They raised their voice, addressing the wedding party as a whole. “I need everyone to buddy up and line up! We have some gay nerds who need to get married!”

With a wave to cue the sound operator, the music began. A chuckle rippled through the crowd as they recognized the entrance music as a slowed version of the Lord of the Rings’ iconic theme. Virgil and Patton grinned at one another and planted a kiss on both of Denali’s cheeks simultaneously before linking arms and striding into the theater. Two by two, the rest of the wedding party followed, walking down the center aisle through the audience, and parting at the stage to walk up the stairs on each side. Their lines met once more to either side of Roman and the officiant, an array of suits and dresses in colours accenting the grooms’. Denali completed the proceeding on his own, tossing flower petals with a flourish so grand one would almost believe this was their wedding.

Then, the room faded into silence, and, as the opening notes of the original 1963 Doctor Who opening theme (stylized for a wedding procession, of course) played out, Logan rounded the corner. Arm linked with his Za, and a bouquet accented with peacock feathers held in his other hand, the groom looked ethereal in the spotlight. The blues and greys of his dress and make-up sparkled as he made his way past the most important people in his and Roman’s life, and if he had been able to look away from Roman’s eyes for a moment, he would have seen only love and awe radiating back from them.

Logan hugged his Za tightly as they stopped in front of the stage, smiling with tears in his eyes as his beloved parent tipped his head down to kiss his forehead. When Roman stepped down the stairs at center stage, his burgundy suit and silver filigree circlet lending him the regal air of royalty he had always hoped to achieve, his soon-to-be Za-in-law pulled him into a hug too. Ze guided the grooms’ hands together, squeezing them gently with a smile, and stepped back to sit with zir wife to watch as they officially welcomed another son into their lives.

Ever the gentleman, Roman helped his beloved up the steps, ensuring the skirt of his dress didn’t get caught under the practical blue flats Logan had chosen to wear. Thankfully, there was no train to wrangle, as it was an excess of fabric that Logan had no desire to waste or trip over. As they took their places, Virgil stepped forward to take the bouquet, letting the grooms hold both hands with matching smiles.

Clearing his throat, the officiant - and theater owner, and close friend of Roman’s - Thomas, began the ceremony.

“Mawage.” A smirk was tugging at his lips as both grooms’ jaws dropped. “Mawage is wot bwings us togeder today. Mawage, that bwessed awangement, that dweam wifin a dweam…” Slowly, Logan began to grin, Roman already biting his lip to muffle his giggles. “And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva..” Of course Thomas had chosen to quote the movie they had watched together on their first date. “So tweasure your wuv.”

The entire wedding party was giggling now, as well as a fair number in the audience. Thomas, looking far too pleased with himself, continued in his normal, exuberant tone. “I truly believe the pair standing before us today not only each embody the beautiful magic that blossoms in the heart when one has found true love, but they choose each and every day to work together to care for those precious gardens. They shared carefully tended clippings made from their vulnerabilities and strengths, their fears and their trust, and lovingly incorporated these parts of their partner into their hearts. At times, yes, there were weeds which needed to be pulled. Some just needed to be identified to deal with, while others required both of them pulling with all their might to remove. Those deep roots could have left holes in their gardens, but instead, our handsome grooms chose to fill in the spaces so new seedlings could begin to grow. The literal fruits of their labour have culminated here today, as they promise themselves to one another for the rest of their lives.”

Smiling widely, Thomas retrieved a ring box from the pocket of his suit and held it out. “Roman, I can tell you are absolutely bursting with the need to profess your love right now. We’ll let you say your vows first then.” A laugh rippled through the crowd, Logan snickering too as his betrothed shrugged with a sheepish smile but did not deny the claim.

With his fingers cupped under Logan’s, cradling and supporting them, Roman held up their joined hands and kissed his knuckles. “Hey nerd,” he began, drawing another laugh from their friends and family, and a smiling eye-roll from his beloved. “I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be the one standing up here with you today. When we first met, you thought I was a pompous airhead and I thought you were nothing short of insufferable. If anyone had told me then I would one day spend my mornings waking up in your arms and kissing your illegally handsome face, I’d have told them to take a long walk off a short pier. But, by Julie Andrews, here we are, and I couldn’t imagine my life without you by my side. You are my greatest joy, my strongest support, and my deepest love. I swear, with every fibre of my being, I will spend everyday striving to be the same for you. I swear to care for you through the good and the bad, to celebrate your victories like they were my own, and to provide for you safety from the noise of the world when all you need is someone on your side. I love you, Logan, this I swear to you.”

Delicately plucking a ring from its satin cushion in the box, Roman cradled Logan’s hand and slipped the band over his left finger. The silver band was inset with three small red stones set on a diagonal, mimicking Orion’s belt - the only constellation Roman could confidently identify for years, frequently and loudly, much to their joined amusement. Woven through the gemstones was a simple silver filigree, and all of which perfectly complemented the engagement ring already at home on Logan’s finger.

If at all possible, Thomas was smiling wider, eyes damp. “Logan? It’s your turn.”

With a sniffle, Logan looked from the wedding band up into the eyes of his love, determined to make it through the ceremony without ruining his make-up. Tenderly, he shifted Roman’s hands so both cradled Logan’s left, around his rings, around their promise. Right hand freed, Logan reached up to cradle Roman’s cheek and smooth his thumb over those sharp cheekbones, accented today with a glittering highlight.

“Roman,” he began, voice a little strained with emotion. “Gods above, Ro, only you and that ridiculously handsome smile of yours could make me forget every carefully planned out word I wanted to say.” The couple shared a chuckle, Roman’s hands tightening briefly around his. “You are every bit the royalty you claim to be. Even now, I cannot recall which one of us began to pursue the other, but I will surely never forget how patient you have been with me through every step of our relationship. Not once have you ever asked more from me than I was willing to share, and nor did you get angry or leave when I requested we slow down because I was scared of how quickly I found myself falling for you. I used to relish in my solitude, in the silence of my own company, but somehow you managed to worm your stubborn way over my walls. You have become a vital part of my life, and I find it unnervingly quiet when you are not around. I cannot even enjoy star-gazing alone anymore! Roman, I need you to know, I would never have it any other way. I swear to care for you through the good and the bad, to celebrate your victories like they were my own, and to provide for you safety from the noise of the world when all you need is someone on your side. I love you, Roman, you truly are the prince of my dreams.”

There was not a dry eye in the theater as Logan retrieved the matching ring to his own from the box and slid it delicately onto Roman’s finger. The equally silver band sat alongside Roman’s engagement ring like it were expressly created to be there. The filigree crept around another trio of gemstones in the same position as Logan’s, though these were coloured a deep blue.

Clutching a hand to his heart, Thomas wiped the tears from his eye. “Roman James Sanders, do you take Logan to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Unable to look away from his love, Roman nodded with a wide smile. “I do.”

“Logan Wilson Baras, do you take Roman to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Logan nodded and squeezed their rejoined hands. “I do.”

“Then by the powers vested in me by the province of British Columbia, I now pronounce you husband and husband! You may kiss the groom!”

Logan had only a moment’s notice at Roman’s shit-eating grin, before he was swung around into a dip, his husband’s - husband!! - knee supporting his back and arms around his shoulder and neck. “You are positively ridiculous,” he muttered, before tugging Roman by the tie to share their first kiss as a wedded couple. Cheers and applause erupted around them, including a wolf-whistle that could have just as easily been from any member of their wedding party.

Straightening, the couple leaned together, Roman’s arm around Logan’s back, hand resting comfortingly on his opposite hip. They grinned, their friends and family standing as Thomas’ voice rang out once more. “Guys, gals, and nonbinary pals, for the first time ever, I present to you Mr. and Mr. Baras-Sanders!”

As a second cheer arose, Virgil stepped over to hand Logan his bouquet again, pulling his brother into a tight hug. “Congrats LB,” he whispered, before standing back and applauding the newly weds.

‘Love you’, Logan mouthed in return, smiling at his brother before turning back to Roman to join their hands and take their first steps into the next adventure of their lives together.

#logince #platonic analogical #moxieceit #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #sanders sides #fanfiction #squid scribbles

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just-lost-inbetween-worlds · 4 years

Text

A Love to End All Wars

Part 1

Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Warnings: fluff? none that I know of (if you see something please let me know)

Word count: 1.7k

Important A/n: One- this was edited but very quickly so I would get it out on time, hopefully I’ll be able to come back and go over it again soon. Two- I don’t know when the next update of this series will be, my g-grandma isn’t doing well at all and it’s been really hard with that and just all of the other crap going on for my family and so I feel like I need to be there for them and for thier happiness and mental health, thank you for understanding.

You hadn’t been entirely sure you actually were going to be accepted due to the fact that you had an acute case of stage fright, which you felt had really shown, especially during your audition performance.

At the tender age of 16 you had started your first year at the world famous arts school.

That was 2 years ago. Over the years your fellow students have become acquaintances and friends. A few even became what you could consider to be rivals or enemies. Even fewer, more precisely a single soul, had become more than a friend.

Now, here you are sitting in your year thirteen theatre class, being lectured by one of your many favorite teachers at the school.

“Students, as you have known for nearly a week now, your final assessment for theatre, being in year 13, will be to choreograph and perform a 5 minute “Physical Theatre” performance with your assigned partner,” the teacher said, continuing to gain more and more of the students attention as she went on, talking about the very well known ‘physical theatre assignment of year 13’ (that have been known for often being passionate and even sometimes, in some cases, a bit intimate in nature, over the years).

“As I said last week, today is the day that your assigned partners will be revealed, and I want to remind you all once again, partners have been assigned very carefully in regards to the task you are to complete. Without further ado, your partners are Angela and Ricky, Tian and Jackson...” She goes on.

You start to tune her out knowing, or more so hoping, that it will catch your attention once she calls your name along with the name of your assigned partner.

Luckily for you, it did catch your attention, “...Y/n and Harrison,” she continues, not stopping after your names are called, just continuing on to call out the names of the assigned partners in the class that still remained unknown to everyone.

Luckily your attention did in fact return to what she was saying as soon as you had heard your name called.

Harrison. Your partner was Harrison Osterfield. He had been your crush pretty much ever since you started attending Brit, he was kind and funny, not to mention absolutely gorgeous, especially with his beautiful icy blue eyes and dirty blonde hair (He was of the most popular boys in school, he was best mates with some of the other most popular guys in the school, one of which included his VERY best mate, Tom Holland.)

Anxiousness filled you, you just weren’t sure if it was the good kind or the bad kind. You weren't upset or anything like that about the fact that your assigned partner was Harrison. Well maybe you were a tiny bit upset, but not about getting to be around Harrison so much to work on the project, but because now you knew you would stress about your guys’ entire project and performance assessment, and mess it up due to your, improving but still lingering stage fright.

You shake yourself out of your head and thoughts that aren’t helping anything.

The teacher announced, “The theme for this year's physical theatre performances are… the first world war.”

A few students audibly groaned in annoyance, while another half of the class gave each other looks, you included, varying from relative excitement, to eyerolls and people pretending to shoot themselves in the head.

You were fairly confident in your abilities, and pretty sure you would have at least one or two ideas about what you and Harrison could do for your performance storyline.

You walked to the back of the room, where Harrison had been seated just moments ago to find him no longer there.

“Hey Y/n” Harrisions says as he sneaks up behind you, startling you and causing you to jump.

“Sorry didn't mean to scare you.” he immediately apologies.

“Oh, no, that's alright, I was actually just coming to look for you to talk to you about our project and stuff. Plus, back home, I can hear my mom coming up the stairs and up to right outside my door, yet she still would manage to make me jump every time when she would open the door.” You and Harrison both laugh lightly at your ridiculous short story.

“I was trying to find you too actually” he commented, explaining why you had found his seat to be empty when you had started to look for him. You smile at eachother and he motions to the seat in front of you urging you to take it, taking the seat right beside it once you’ve sat down.

After everyone had found and took a seat next to their partners, the teacher continued, “Alright everyone, this is a big part of your final grade in theatre this year so I expect for you to take this seriously, but along with that we would also like your creativity to flow as much as possible, which is why you will all receive one week of excuses from your other classes to complete this project, and you are allowed to work on it anywhere as long as it is located on campus grounds. Do not slack off or take this to any unintended advantage, It will show in both your performance as well as in your final grade this grading period. Good luck, I can not wait to see what you all come up with. Dismissed.”

As soon as she said the word “dismissed” students began pouring out of the classroom in a jumble of pairs. You and Harrison being the only exception; both wanting to have at least somewhat of a plan before heading out to a place that you and Harrison had yet to decide on, to do what also had yet to be decided on.

You begin with a shy and timid voice, “So, I was thinking, um that maybe we could start out with a bit of WWI research, maybe get some ideas on what we could do?”

“Yeah good idea. So where do you want to go to work, well for today at least?” Harrison talks as his normal, slightly loud self, not in the slightest bit nervous, unlike you who still were seated right besides him.

You could hear and feel your heartbeat in your ears and head, it was pounding and at quite a fast rate, you just prayed that the gorgeous man who you were lucky to get assigned as a partner couldn’t hear it too.

“Oh um I really don't care, whatever you want is fine really.” You say really not wanting to be too controlling and annoying about the project, especially this early on in it.

“Well ok then, lets go to the library, so we can do some research. Sounds good?” Harrison asks.

“Yeah, sure.” You reply.

“Ok cool, so do you have any ideas so far on what our physical theatre should be about, I mean like wwi of course but any ideas in particular?” He questions.

“Haha” You chuckle nervously, “actually yeah, I was thinking that maybe we could do something about being soldiers on the front.”

He adds his input as well, mentioning, “Yeah I was thinking so too. Let’s have them be enemies, on opposing sides. I feel like that could make it a lot more interesting and give us more options and possibilities and ideas of what we could do with it.”

“Wow, did you come up with this like as soon as she told us the theme would be world war one or are you just that creative and come up with great ideas that instantly happen all the time.” You attempt to joke a little with him.

“I mean, I've got to be honest... it's the second one” we both laugh with each other once again. You are really looking forward to working with Harrison on this project for a while.

You take the short walk together from the classroom to the library, making small talk along the way. He opens one of the double doors and waves me in ahead of him, like a gentleman, which for some reason had been somewhat of a surprise to you, knowing that half of the female student body is after him. You walk into the building with walls lined with all different sizes of books.

“Follow me,” you signal your head in the correct direction, “I know where some books on the world wars are.”

“Um it could get pretty full in here, I’ll go get us a table.here, I can take your bag too” you're not sure if you should be upset and worried that he was trying to get away from you for a little bit, or if you should be happy that he offered to take your bag, once again like a complete gentleman.

It doesn't take long for you to find a few books that you think will be helpful in coming up with the “storyline” for your guys’ physical theatre performance.

When you get back to the table you set the 4 books you had grabbed down on the small little table in the corner of the library. Immediately, you opened up the largest book you had got on the allied powers and their components in WWI and began skimming the yellowed and aging pages.

Meanwhile Harrison starts to read a book on Germany’s part in the war.

He gets interrupted briefly by a notification going off from his cell phone, him feeling the need to check it and to clear the homescreen littered with a few different notifications from miscellaneous apps. It was a bad habit that he and MANY other people have, including you, to some extent at least, had.

About 30 minutes or so go by, reading in silence, and you secretly quite enjoy the newly found company that Harrison provided.

Throughout that thirty minutes, every once and awhile, one of you would look up from your book and in the direction of the other, and whoever’s gaze it was initially would soon be returned by the other, along with the exchange of soft small smiles.

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nicolewrites · 4 years

Text

We Stand, Fate-Tested - I

Alright friends. This is it, a long-haul. This idea came out of nowhere and blindsided me and now it’s a thing. I’m publishing it so that I can bully myself into needing to continue to write it, but it’s likely going to be a long endeavour. I want to set an upload schedule, but that will also depend on my academic schedule.

Additionally! I want your feedback - long (2-sectioned) chapters or 2 shorter chapters with more frequent uploads? This is the longer style to give you a feel for it, but if people prefer the shorter ones I will switch.

Rating: T+ Genre: Mystery, Friendship, Romance Characters: [Byleth/My Unit, Dimitri B.], [Byleth/My Unit, Claude R.] Words: 5,576

It is currently 732 AU, and Byleth Eisner is an archaeology TA who just wants to write her thesis in peace, but she can't stop thinking about why everyone at the University looks so familiar. / Unification Year. Peace after war is never easy or simple. Byleth wasn't made for politics.

AO3 | FFN

I - Garreg Mach

Garreg Mach University - 6 Horsebow Moon, 732 AU

“Seteth, you know I’m only doing this because you asked me in a moment of weakness, right?” Byleth said as she strode alongside her professor.

He gave a short laugh. “Yes, of course. And also because you’d be out a supervisor if you didn’t.”

Byleth frowned but she kept pace. “Why couldn’t you get one of your undergraduate students to do it?”

“Because, Miss Eisner, if I recall correctly, your area of study is a combined study between history and archaeology of the Unification Era of Fódlan, is it not?”

“Yes,” Byleth admitted. “But, my own studies are busy enough, why do you assume I can teach as well?”

Seteth finally stopped and turned to look at her. “Byleth, you are one of the brightest students I have ever taught. I brought you on as a TA for this class because it will be an excellent experience for you, especially if you one day hope to be a professor in our department.”

Byleth sighed and brushed some of her hair behind her ear. He made a good point. There was barely any archaeology funding anywhere so it was really in her best interest to commit to the faculty at Garreg Mach so they’d be more inclined to consider her for a permanent position in the future. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be a TA, but that she was more concerned with juggling her own workload along with the TA work.

Seteth seemed satisfied that he had made his point as he pivoted and continued walking down the hallway. He stepped into one of the smaller lecture halls and Byleth followed him in. The classroom could seat about 50 people in a typical lecture seating style–a small classroom by university standings, but appropriate for a third-year archaeology course. Seteth immediately headed for the podium at the front of the theatre, pulling out his laptop to pull up the syllabus and his lecture slides for the first class. Byleth paused at the front briefly before she decided to head to the back, taking a seat in the back row where she was still present, but incognito enough.

After a couple of minutes, students began to pour in, chattering amongst each other. Byleth observed them quietly from her position at the back. There was a girl with long, smooth black hair who took a seat directly in the front row and immediately pulled out a laptop. A pair of boys, one with dark green hair and the other with silver, took seats near the back of the classroom and the green-haired boy almost immediately rested his head against the fold-out desk and looked like he was falling asleep.

Byleth recognized a few of the faces briefly, having glimpsed them in her own electives or around the archaeology offices. It certainly seemed like a colourful group of students. As seats filled up, as they always did on the first day of classes, Byleth became acutely aware of the fact that a student would likely be sitting next to her.

She pulled up the course outline on her laptop and focused on that, determined to look as unassuming as possible. She scrolled through it blindly as she had reviewed it weeks ago when Seteth had asked her for her contact information. Louder chatter around her caused her to look up as a group of five students had filed into the seats around her. Byleth scanned them briefly: a blonde girl, a redheaded boy, a dark-haired boy, a tanned boy with silver-white hair, and a blonde boy.

Her gaze caught briefly on the blonde boy, the one seated closest to her. He seemed oddly familiar, but she tore her gaze away quickly before anyone noticed she had been staring. Thankfully, at this time, Seteth cleared his throat at the front of the room. The cough echoed through the room thanks to the microphone and the chatter settled down.

“Welcome students,” Seteth began. “This course, as I hope you’re all aware, is Archaeology 356, Unification Era Archaeology. Our syllabus is available to download online as I’m sure many of you have already looked it over. My name is Seteth Cichol and I am the head of the Archaeology department here at Garreg Mach. I am also a professor for the History department. My contact information and office hours are available in the syllabus.”

There was a brief pause as Seteth scrolled down the page to show his office hours. All through the classroom, there was the clicking of keyboards and the scratching of pens as students recorded the days and times. After a moment, Seteth was satisfied with the time he had given and he moved on.

“I’m also honoured to introduce our TA for this class, Miss Byleth Eisner.”

Byleth tensed at the sound of her name as Seteth pointed up at her. A sea of faces turned to look at her and there was a ripple of whispers across the room. Byleth smiled politely and waved. Seteth barely paused, continuing on to explain her own contact information and office hours before launching into the depth of the course outline. Almost all of the students turned their attention back to the front, but Byleth noticed that one student who was sitting three rows in front of her kept glancing back her way.

She made eye contact with him once, but there was a curious intensity in his deep green eyes that made her uncomfortable, so she looked away, trying to refocus on Seteth at the front of the room. There was something familiar about him too, and it unnerved her a bit. She couldn’t place exactly why she knew him, but his face was definitely familiar. She didn’t look back at him for the rest of the 50-minute lecture, but she could feel his gaze on her at times.

When Seteth dismissed class, Byleth closed her laptop and slid it back into her bag. The group of students in her row had filed out and were hovering awkwardly in the aisle as she stood to leave. Byleth gave them a polite smile and headed down the stairs to the front of the room. She paused at the podium where Seteth was speaking with the dark-haired girl that had been the first one into the classroom.

Seteth paused his conversation to give her a farewell nod and Byleth took that as permission to leave and she headed for the door. She had almost left the room when someone touched her arm to catch her attention. Byleth turned to her left sharply and saw the young man that had stared at her during the lecture.

“Hi,” he greeted with a casual grin. Up close, Byleth immediately noted the trickster-edge to his smile and the glint in his eyes. He was certainly attractive with mussed dark hair and the faintest line of scruff along his jaw, but he looked like trouble. “It’s Byleth, right?” he asked.

Byleth nodded and shifted her weight. She stepped to the side so she wasn’t blocking the doorway to the classroom to let other students out. The student stepped with her so they were still side-by-side. “Yes, that’s me,” she assented.

He held out a hand for her to shake. “I’m Claude Rahan.” She shook his hand and he continued. “Are you Dr. Cichol’s new grad student? In all my classes with the man, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around.”

“Yes,” Byleth admitted. “I’m starting my Masters this year.” Her mind caught on something he had mentioned. “You’ve taken Seteth’s classes before?”

Claude’s smile slipped into a smirk. “Yeah, I’ve taken a couple of archaeology courses to fill elective space. I’m a history major though, which is how I ended up taking those archaeology courses in the first place since I liked Dr. Cichol’s lecture style.”

Byleth nodded. As an undergrad, Seteth had been her favourite professor as well. His lectures were clear, well-organized and interesting. He had never been late, had marked fairly, and had been extremely helpful and knowledgeable both in class and in his office hours. It wasn’t hard to see why he was the head of the Archaeology department and a well-known prof in the history department as well.

“Claude!” a new voice called and both Byleth and Claude turned to see a young woman approaching them, her eyebrows knit suspiciously. “Are you bothering our TA?”

Claude sized up the young woman who had approached and laughed. “Come on Edel, I’m just making conversation. Getting a position as a grad student with Dr. Cichol can’t be easy, so I was just curious.”

The woman sighed and rolled her eyes. She turned to face Byleth and held out a slender hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Eisner. I am Edelgard von Hosch.”

Byleth shook her hand. Edelgard had interesting eyes as well. Where Claude’s were curious and playful, Edelgard’s violet eyes were sharp and assessing. She had ashy brown hair that was pulled back from her face and the sharp angles of her features were very familiar to Byleth. It took her a moment to connect the familiarity of Edelgard’s name as well as her face.

“You’re the Prime Minister’s daughter,” she replied dumbly.

Edelgard winced and Claude laughed. “She’s got you there, Edel,” Claude teased.

Edelgard shrugged. “Yes, though here at the university I’m just another political science major.”

Byleth’s brow furrowed. Claude was a history major who had some previous experience with archaeology, but she didn’t know why a political science major would be taking a third-year archaeology course. Edelgard seemed to recognize the confusion on Byleth’s face and she laughed lightly.

“As for why I’m venturing into other disciplines, that can be blamed on Dimitri’s sentimentality and Claude’s lack of flexibility with his schedule,” Edelgard explained.

“You see,” Claude continued, “when three people who have been running in the same social circles since we were children all end up at the same university, it’s natural for us to want to take a course together, but when I’m the one with very little flexibility in the courses I can take with my major and potential minor, I end up dragging a political science student as well as,” Claude paused and gestured to the student that Seteth was currently speaking with, the blonde that had sat near Byleth during the lecture, “a business major into an archaeology class.”

Byleth was still staring at the blonde boy when he finished his conversation with Seteth and turned towards her. They made eye contact and he gave her a warm smile. Byleth immediately broke eye contact and dropped her gaze back to Claude and Edelgard.

“That’s Dimitri,” Edelgard explained. “Dimitri Blethen. And while what Claude says is true, it’s not worth being late to my next class over.” She nodded politely to Byleth. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Eisner.”

Edelgard left, sweeping past them and out of the classroom. Claude didn’t move as he rocked back onto his heels, assessing her. Byleth raised an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t you have more classes to get to?”

“Nah, I’m done for the day.”

“Oh,” Byleth replied awkwardly. Claude’s smirk twitched at her reply and she fought off the urge to roll her eyes. “Well,” she glanced at her watch, “I have some papers that won’t read themselves so I should get going. I guess I’ll see you in Tutorial, Claude.”

He nodded. “You will.” Byleth turned to leave, but he called out one last comment to her. “You look like her, you know.”

Byleth froze and turned back to look at him. His chin was tipped to the side and he was giving her a lazy smile. Despite his nonchalance, Byleth easily caught the intelligent glint in his green eyes. She frowned at him.

“I look like who?”

“The Guardian of Order. Surely you’ve seen the tapestries, right? I mean, your Masters studies are on the mystery of her disappearance, so surely you’ve done your background research.”

Byleth’s frown deepened. He knew her area of interest which only could have meant that he had looked her up on the archaeology department’s list of ongoing projects during class. She was indeed studying the disappearance of the Guardian of Order in the years after the Unification Act and she had indeed seen the Almyran tapestries depicting the Guardian’s image. They had mostly faded after time, but thanks to the 101 AU Scorch of Garreg Mach, they were the only remaining physical depictions of the Guardian.

“It’s been mentioned before,” she said coolly and Claude’s grin widened.

Seteth was the one originally who had pointed out Byleth’s likeness in the portraits of the woman. Byleth tried to tell herself that it was just in the hair and eye colour–mint green–as well as the stature of confidence. Realistically, she saw many more comparisons between herself and the depictions, but it was more than likely that the tapestries showed more artistic freedom and liberty than the true appearance of the Guardian. It was for that reason that the Parliament of Fódlan had not requested their retrieval from Almyra to be added to the Royal Collection.

“It’s uncanny, if I do say so myself,” Claude added. With one last smile, he brushed past her and out of the classroom, leaving Byleth feeling unsettled and a little perplexed.

He was certainly a character.

- ~ -

Four hours later, when Byleth was working through a case on artifacts recovered near the old Fhirdiad capital, she was having trouble focusing. She was still stuck on Claude and the way he had so easily challenged her, having looked up her area of expertise. His familiarity was also still bothering her.

Byleth sighed and minimized the window containing the paper she was reading. She opened a new tab and stared blankly at the search bar. Fair is fair, she reasoned to herself and typed Claude’s name into the search bar. Almost immediately she returned almost 60 million search results and she blinked, shocked, as her eyes focused on the top profile.

It was a news article about Almyra-Fódlan relations that had a subheader that had caught the attention of her query. Most of the article was the typical description of Almyra and Fódlan’s contentious relationship, but part of it mentioned that the grandson of one of Almyra’s ambassadors was attending Garreg Mach University. There was a picture attached to the article as well and Byleth zeroed in on the three familiar figures in the shot.

It was a photo of Claude, Edelgard, and Dimitri. They looked a few years younger than they had in lecture earlier, and Byleth studied it curiously. The three of them were standing inside what looked like one of the Parliament buildings in Fhirdiad. Claude was grinning, Edelgard was frowning, and Dimitri looked exasperated. Byleth’s eyes drifted to the caption of the photo and she read it aloud.

“Claude Rahan, grandson to Almyran ambassador Oswald Rigaud, pictured with Edelgard von Hosch, daughter of Prime Minister Ionius von Hosch, and Dimitri Blethen, son of late Prime Minister Lambert Blethen.”

Byleth blinked at the screen. So while Edelgard was the daughter of the current Prime Minister of Fódlan, Claude was the grandson of an Almyran ambassador and Dimitri also had familial connections to Fódlan’s parliament. Byleth remembered the Disaster well enough. Four years ago, while on a diplomatic visit to the Duscur region, a vehicle crash had killed the Prime Minister at the time, Lambert Blethen, his wife, and the son of a cabinet minister while severely injuring the Prime Minister’s son.

If Dimitri, Edelgard, and Claude were all connected to the government of Fódlan, it would explain why she had found all of their faces so familiar. Still, doubt prickled in her mind because it felt like she knew them from somewhere else and not just because they had famous parents. Their voices, their faces, and their mannerisms were eerily familiar and even thinking about it was going to give her a headache.

She closed the article and pulled up the paper she had been skimming through again. The artifact she had been reading about was a ceramic piece that was thought to be from a collection in the royal palace in Fhirdiad that was recovered after the violence in 102 AU that had destroyed most of the belongings of the late Saviour King and the Guardian of Order. Apparently the piece was definitely not Fódlani in creation and it was speculated that it had been a gift from Almyra due to the remaining paint decals on it.

Byleth enlarged a photo of the piece and squinted at it. The designs were definitely not any that she recognized from her previous studies of formerly royal artifacts. It was difficult to tell based on the photo whether the speculation about their Almyran origins had any weight to it, but the argument read coherently enough that it could have been true.

She was about to save the image to her drive when the caption on it caught her attention again. She highlighted it and stared at it for a moment. She scrolled up to stare at the image again and exhaled sharply. Before she could do anything else, the lab door swung open and Byleth snapped her head up.

Seteth raised an eyebrow at her as he walked in, draping his jacket over the back of one of the chairs by the door. “Anything interesting today?”

Byleth shifted, rotating her monitor, and beckoned her supervisor over. “This piece, here, supposedly was a part of a royal collection in Fhirdiad, but it was recovered below Garreg Mach five years ago.”

Seteth leaned over her shoulder and studied the photo. “Five years ago would have been around the same time the last excavation to the underbelly of the old monastery was.”

Byleth looked up at the professor. “This wouldn’t, by chance, be related to that expedition you’ve been petitioning for this year, would it?”

Seteth hummed. “Certainly, if its recovery location is accurate, I believe we would have a reason to add you to my excavation team.”

Byleth smiled. “Really?”

“Really,” Seteth affirmed. “Since this connects so directly to your area of study, having your expertise on the expedition would be valuable. I’m sure that I can throw this to the board to get the funding to have you paid for it and everything.”

Byleth hugged Seteth. “Thank you!”

Seteth had been planning a new trip to the crypts below Garreg Mach for several years and Byleth had desperately wanted to be on the team that would do the fieldwork. As a new Masters student, she had originally not been included on the list as priority was given to the PhDs and Fellows above her. Byleth had been digging deep in her studies on the Guardian of Order to find something that would give Seteth a reason to invite her onto the expedition team, beyond the fact that he had been friends with her father and that she was one of his favourite students.

Seteth reached for her mouse and scrolled up, briefly skimming the rest of the article. “This is about the old royal collection?” he asked.

Byleth nodded. “Mostly about the pieces that were able to be recovered that are mostly intact. This one caught my eye mostly because it doesn’t look Fódlani.”

Seteth studied the image. “Well, hopefully, this is enough to get you that spot we’ve been hoping for.” He smiled at her and Byleth felt warm down to her core. “Well done, Byleth.”

- ~ - ~ - ~ -

Garreg Mach Monastery - 14 Horsebow Moon, Unification Year

After Enbarr, it had taken several days before everyone was fit for travel back to Garreg Mach. Gilbert and a few others had pushed for Dimitri to return immediately to Fhirdiad, but he ignored them and instead chose to see the Knights of Seiros and his companions back to Garreg Mach. Byleth had been glad for his company, especially because she still worried over the wound he received from Edelgard at the end of their confrontation.

Still, in the few days that they’d been back at the monastery, she had seen him in the goddess tower for a brief period of time before their chaotic duties had summoned them into a whirlwind of work again. As Byleth sat through a meeting with Seteth and some other church officials, she touched the ring Dimitri had given her distractedly.

The silver of it was cool against her skin and still felt foreign. She kept her hands below the table as a few of the higher up monks and knights relayed their reports for the day. Rhea was still resting to recover from her imprisonment in Enbarr, but it seemed like everyone already knew that Byleth was set to become the next archbishop. Additionally, it didn’t appear that there was going to be any delay in the shift of loyalty over to Byleth, a fact which made her slightly uncomfortable.

Seteth asked her something and Byleth blinked, realizing that her attention had drifted and she had lost the frame of the conversation entirely. She spun Dimitri’s ring on her finger and asked Seteth to repeat himself.

“Nevermind, Your Grace,” he said instead. “We’re all tired so we should resume this discussion tomorrow when we’ve all had some rest.”

Byleth tried not to slump in her seat in relief. There was some brief chatter as most of the monks and knights made their way out of the room, casting the occasional glance back in Byleth’s direction. Seteth and Flayn lingered and Byleth remained seated. She knew Seteth wanted to speak with her so there was no real use in avoiding him, especially considering she had just spent three days doing that.

“I’ll leave you two to talk, then,” Flayn said finally, once the rest of the room had emptied. She squeezed Seteth’s shoulder on her way out and swept out of the room.

Byleth watched her go. Flayn’s youth was startlingly preserved despite the five long years they’d been at war. It made her wonder about more than a few things.

“Byleth,” Seteth said, drawing her attention. “I know you were avoiding me and then today you were so distracted you might as well have been absent from these meetings. I know you’ve never been the most faithful, but the Church of Seiros will be instrumental in assisting His Majesty in the rebuilding and reunification of Fódlan.”

Byleth raised her hands and rubbed at her temples. “I know,” she admitted. “I’m sorry, Seteth, I know how much work you and Flayn have been doing for me. I appreciate it, I hope you know that.”

Seteth chuckled. “Your appreciation is noted, Byleth.” He sounded like he had more to say, but no words came forth so Byleth dropped her hands and looked at him. Seteth was staring at her with an expression on his face that was a mix of surprise and disbelief.

“Seteth?” Byleth ventured. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What?” she prompted after a moment when he didn’t reply.

Seteth blinked hard and let his brows draw his expression into a frown. “When did you start wearing that ring?”

The ring in question burned against her finger as she looked at it, surprised. Her response caught in her throat and she looked from the silver ring to Seteth’s still surprised and worried expression. When her tongue finally loosened, she was able to reply.

“Three days,” she admitted. It was exactly as long as she had been avoiding Seteth. Despite the fact that she and Dimitri had been wearing the rings out and about, they had yet to come right out and tell anyone though she knew that, at the very least, Mercedes, Dedue, Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid had all noticed that either Byleth or Dimitri was wearing a new piece of jewelry.

Seteth sat back down. He stroked his beard idly and let out a sigh. “Should I even have to ask?”

Byleth studied Seteth. Like Flayn, he looked like he hadn’t aged a day in the five years he spent rallying the knights in search of Rhea. Still, sitting next to her in the Cardinals’ Room at Garreg Mach he looked as tired as Byleth felt.

“Dimitri,” Byleth said finally.

Seteth nodded like he had guessed as much and ran a hand through his hair. “Congratulations,” he said gently.

Byleth smiled warily. She spun the ring again and studied it. “Seteth, if I asked you, would you be entirely honest with me?”

“I suppose,” he replied after a moment.

Byleth looked up and saw that he had knit his hands on the table. He looked more uncomfortable now than she had seen him in a long time.

“What did Rhea do to me?”

Her question caught him off guard and he visibly recoiled, his chair squeaking against the stone as it pushed back. He worked his jaw for a moment, trying to come up with a satisfactory reply to her question.

“You’re sure this question needs answering, are you?”

Byleth pursed her lips. “I am stepping up to lead Rhea’s former church. I am a unifying force on this continent that is still teetering on the knife’s edge. And,” she paused, looking pointedly at her hand, “I am no longer on my own.”

Seteth sighed heavily. “I understand,” he replied. “You deserve to know, but first I should tell you the truth of our origins–Rhea’s and mine and Flayn’s.”

Seteth told her of the Nabateans and the children of Sothis and the truth of Nemesis. He described the truth of Zanado and how Rhea–Seiros–had grieved the loss of her mother, the progenitor god. He explained Rhea’s efforts to revive her mother, including the attempt that resulted in Sitri, Byleth’s mother.

Byleth tensed at the name. It was unfamiliar to her as Jeralt never spoke of her mother, but it tugged on something deep in her chest regardless. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She felt a sudden and unwanted swell of emotions at the thought of the mother she never got to know.

Thankfully, Seteth ignored Byleth’s emotional response and continued his explanation, describing Jeralt’s relationship with Sitri and how it had resulted in a child. Byleth’s breath caught audibly as he then described, as he knew it, what Rhea had done in implanting Byleth with the Crest Stone of the Sword of the Creator to save her life.

Byleth’s palm flattened against her chest and she exhaled deeply. “Rhea didn’t want me. She didn’t want me to be alive. She just wanted Sothis back.”

Seteth pressed his lips together because he couldn’t truly argue with her statement. Byleth stood from her chair and paced towards the window. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and shook her head.

“Where is Rhea?” she asked, looking back at Seteth for a moment.

Before Seteth could reply, there was a knock at the door that drew their attention. Both soon-to-be-Archbishop and advisor turned to the door and took in the hulking frame of the now-King of Fódlan, Dimitri. His broad shoulders took up the entire doorway, even though he was without his heavy mantle. Byleth’s chest tugged in his direction as she took him in.

Dimitri seemed to note the tension in the room and looked between Byleth and Seteth uncomfortably. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I was hoping for a word with the Archbishop.”

Byleth almost sent him away so that she could get the rest of the story out of Seteth, but Seteth stood before she could say anything. She bit her tongue as her advisor made his way to the doorway. Next to Dimitri’s tall frame, Seteth looked small.

“Congratulations on your engagement, Your Majesty,” Seteth said before he slid past Dimitri and disappeared into the hallway.

Dimitri watched him go before turning to Byleth and raising the eyebrow over his good eye. “Beloved, I didn’t know you had told him.”

Byleth laughed lightly and crossed the room to stand in front of her fiancé. She looked up at him, pressing her palms against his chest. Dimitri’s hair was pulled back out of his face, leaving a few strands to fall over his forehead. It was a stylish, polished look that she had not seen him wear before. It suited him.

“Seteth is observant, my love,” she replied, tapping a fingertip against the ring on her left hand. Dimitri’s expression morphed into recognition. She reached up to brush at some of his hair. “This is new,” she commented.

Dimitri chuckled. “Yes, Felix said he was either going to fix it or cut it, so we settled on this.”

Byleth hummed appreciatively. One of her hands slid along Dimitri’s jaw and down over his neck until it rested on his shoulder and the other stayed on his chest over his heart. He lifted a hand and picked up the one over his heart, bringing it to his mouth and kissing her palm.

Byleth laughed and gently pulled her hand down, twisting it so they held hands instead. “Has Gilbert been after you today about returning to Fhirdiad?”

Dimitri huffed. “Unfortunately. Thankfully, Ingrid has come up with a new reason for me to stay for a while longer.”

“She has?”

Dimitri stepped back into the hallway, tugging her along with him by the hand. She followed, keeping pace, as they let their joined hands dangle between them.

“Apparently, it used to be a tradition that the rulers of Faerghus were crowned here at the monastery instead of in the capital. My great-grandfather changed that when he was crowned in Fhirdiad, but Ingrid pointed out that it may come across as a gesture of both tradition and unity if I was to be crowned, officially, here.”

Byleth was surprised. Truth be told, she did not know much about Faerghus customs, but she agreed with Ingrid’s logic: crowning the king at the monastery would be seen as a unifying gesture due to the importance of the church to the unification effort and the war. Plus, it gave her an excuse to spend more time with Dimitri before they were both pulled so completely into their work that it would consume them.

“So how long have you bought us?”

“Another month,” Dimitri said. “Possibly more if we choose to announce our engagement sometime in that time period since we will have the excuse of wedding planning.”

Byleth nodded. “I suppose we’ll be expected to have a big wedding, won’t we?”

Dimitri paused in his stride and looked down at her. “What would you prefer, Beloved?”

Byleth looked away a bit shyly. “I am not one for crowds as you know. I would be happy to have our Blue Lions and a few of our other close friends in a small ceremony. I know, however,” she added, “that that dream is unlikely considering both of our stations.” She shook her head ruefully. “I have not even ascended officially as Archbishop and already I feel as if everything has changed here.”

Dimitri dropped her hand to place his hands on either side of her waist. His hands were warm and comforting as he rubbed them up and down. Byleth leaned forward until her head rested against his chest. He shifted against her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I hope nothing between us has changed, at least,” he murmured gently.

“No,” Byleth assured. “Nothing will change between us as long as I have anything to say about it.”

Her left hand reached for his and she covered his with her own where it rested at the base of her ribcage. The rings they exchanged were touching and Byleth tried to convey everything she felt for Dimitri–love, adoration, pride, and trust–through the simple touch. With him here, solid and warm and alive, she had never felt more grateful for anything since she learned that each of her students had survived the final confrontation in Enbarr.

After a moment, Dimitri leaned away and lifted a hand to guide her chin up so she was looking into his eye. “What were you and Seteth speaking about when I interrupted?”

Byleth frowned unintentionally. “Rhea,” she admitted. “And,” she found his hand as she spoke, guiding it over her still chest, “this.”

Dimitri waited for a moment with his palm pressed against her shirt before his eye widened and his lips parted. “Beloved, why do you not have a heartbeat?”

Byleth exhaled slowly and closed her eyes. “Rhea,” she replied simply. Dimitri didn’t reply, but she knew he wasn’t satisfied with her explanation. She opened her eyes to acknowledge his questioning look. “I do not understand everything myself,” she admitted. “If I knew, you would know,” she assured him.

Dimitri relaxed a little and dropped his hand back to his side, hesitating before reaching for hers. Byleth tangled their fingers again and pulled him towards the dining hall. “Come now, love, we should find our way to the dining hall. It was Dedue’s turn to cook today so I’m sure whatever he made won’t last long.”

Dimitri chuckled, but let her pull him down the hallway in the monastery. The late afternoon sun warmed Byleth and with Dimitri’s hand in hers, she felt content and prepared to face the chaos that was sure to follow a five-year war.

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manggojooz · 5 years

Text

Take My Hands Now (Part 5)

pairing: Jungkook x reader

word count: 2,291

genre: drama

summary: You were born with a condition that allowed you to feel the pain someone else was going through when you touched them. Jungkook, on the other hand, looked like he could not be any less bothered with other people’s feelings and was a well known playboy of the school. One night, at a party, while he attempted to turn you into his toy for the night, he grabbed your hand and pain crashed through you, making you wonder whether behind the facade of this pleasure seeker, he could also be hiding something.

warnings: none

With an absolutely arbitrary deadline in mind, Jungkook dutifully headed to the bookstore the next afternoon. He bought you a caramel macchiato. “Last one”, he said as he left it on the counter for you.

You have started to get used to his wandering around the bookstore now. You still weren’t sure what kind of stunt he was trying to pull but you were fairly certain this will probably die down after a while, once he got bored or finds something better to do.

He sauntered around the children’s section and found the book he saw you perusing that first time he came here. "Pfft, Winnie-the-Pooh", he scoffed in a murmuring volume.

But he still ended up taking a copy and flipping through it. Jungkook was focusing more on the pictures than the words, eventually he landed on one page that looked similar to what he saw you reading that day:

“All I can tell you, Pooh and Piglet, is that right now I feel really rather Sad, and Alone, and Not Much Fun To Be Around At All.

Which is why I haven't bothered you. Because you wouldn't want to waste your time hanging out with someone who is Sad, and Alone, and Not Much Fun To Be Around At All, would you now."

Pooh looked at Piglet, and Piglet looked at Pooh, and they both sat down, one on either side of Eeyore in his stick house.

Eeyore looked at them in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"We're sitting here with you," said Pooh...”

---

Another day. Jungkook must have gotten tired of loitering in the bookstore, so he sat on the bench in the atrium of the mall facing the store, sipping on his iced chocolate while playing with his phone.

You knocked off from work and contemplated sneaking off without him noticing but somehow you felt that would be too mean. So, you walked over and said, “Are you not leaving?”

“I’m waiting for someone”, he replied matter-of-factly still looking at his phone.

Oh, he was? Guess you weren’t the reason why he stuck around then, you were mentally reprimanding yourself for assuming.

Just then, a low and refined voice came from behind you, “Why are you waiting here, you could have just waited at the restaurant”, the man who said this walked up to Jungkook. He was middle-aged, dressed in a bespoke suit and had a pleasant disposition.

“I was waiting for this one to finish her shift”, Jungkook pointed at you while replying. So, was he waiting for you or him? This is so confusing.

“Y/N, this is my dad. Dad, you wouldn’t mind if she joins us for dinner right?”, Jungkook said.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Jeon”, you blurted out, at the same time suppressing your urge to just run away.

“Nice to meet you too young lady. We are going to the hotel’s restaurant. Care to join us, Y/N? The chef we hired there is really good”, he asked as he gave you the friendliest smile you have seen from anyone of that stature. And wait, so they own the hotel annexed to the mall too?

Once you were seated at a corner table with a superb view of the city, the manager of the restaurant came over personally with the menu.

“What would the two of you like to have today?”, Jungkook’s dad said while turning the pages.

“Jungkook always gets the grilled steak here, Sir”, the manager said confidently, “medium rare again?”, he asked. Jungkook simply nodded his head without even opening the menu.

“Oh, does he? I’ll take the lamb chop instead, what about you, Y/N?”, Jungkook’s father added.

You ordered a pasta and his dad insisted on getting everyone a cup of coffee, although you really didn’t want one when it was already dinner time. The rest of the meal was cordial. A little too cordial.

His father seemed genuinely kind, gentlemanly, fatherly, but he was as much of those things to you as he was to Jungkook; it was almost as if he treated both of you with hospitality. Your dad will probably know your favourite dish at a restaurant or if you didn’t like a particular drink. But then again, this man looks like he carries half the world on his shoulders. Maybe rich families were just like that.

At the end of dinner Jungkook’s dad said the car was ready at the foyer, he reminded Jungkook to drop you off first at your hostel and excused himself to attend to a meeting.

Jungkook and you were taking the elevator down when it stopped at a random floor. The door opened and revealed a man and a woman waiting for it. The woman was clearly older but was very attractive and you couldn’t quite guess her age, the man had his arms around her waist.

The woman paused at the sight of Jungkook in the lift, and you could feel the intensity grow in the air surrounding him. The couple entered and the door closed.

“You came here to have dinner with him?”, the woman said after a while, her words cutting the awkward air, evidently aimed at Jungkook.

“Definitely not to see you”, he replied and you could almost feel him seething.

Who was she?

That was when the lift door finally opened at the ground floor, Jungkook contemplated dragging you out of there as quickly as possible but he stopped short of grabbing your wrist. He marched out past the two strangers and you were left to try to catch up to him.

“Jungkook, Jungkook!”, the woman shouted after him. “What time are you coming home tonight?”, her steps wobbled, which could be a result of the high heels she wore or could be something else.

When you caught up to Jungkook at the car, he shoved you in by the handle of your bag, and he got in hastily after you. The car drove off before she could make it through the lobby door.

Was she his mother?

---

Two days passed after that, and with each you felt like Jungkook was different from what you thought he was.

You slowly learnt a lot more about his father; he never spoke of his mother.

His father was the idol of his childhood. Even though everyone said his father married his mother for her riches, it never felt that way to him. His father would attend Jungkook’s school events, pick him up after classes and they would often hang out at an ice cream place after that. But then when Jungkook turned eight years old, his father became the CEO of the company one day and these things stopped. He hardly even saw his father around the house anymore after that.

“You don’t blame him for priotising his work over you?”, you remember asking Jungkook once.

He conveniently pulled out a Spiderman comic from the bookshelf next to where he was leaning against, “With great power comes great responsibility, Y/N. He's to me what Peter Parker is to Mary Jane, but to the company and all the people relying on him, he’s supposed to be Spiderman.”

Jungkook never blamed his father and he learnt that riches may bring some privileges but they also come with immense burdens.

---

You were heading to lecture with Namjoon one day, and Mirae came running up to the both of you in the middle of the stairs leading to the lecture theatre.

“Have you guys seen the news? Daebak…”, she whispered.

From your expressions she could tell that you both had zero idea what she was alluding to.

“There’s so many articles up now about Jungkook’s mom, only daughter of the BH group”, Mirae moved closer to the two of you, “She’s having affairs. And yes, it’s affairs, not just one. There was apparently a singer called Julian Yoo, a trainee from some big company, can’t quite remember his name, oh and also the actor Daniel Park. And this is just apparently the tip of the iceberg. What even? Come to think of it, maybe this is why Jungkook acts this way”, Mirae was rattling on and on until she could see the look in your eyes turning annoyed at that last sentence.

“We don’t know the full picture, and even if it’s true about his mother, should we really be dragging him into this?”, you questioned.

“Even if we don’t the others will still. Wonder if he’s gonna be coming to class today after all this”, Namjoon said objectively.

You sat in the lecture theatre constantly craning your neck to see if he was coming. Just a few minutes before the lecture was due to start, Jungkook strutted in in his usual posture. A backpack over one shoulder, hands in his pockets and looking as if the entire world can come at him but he wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

The murmurs in the lecture hall became discernible, Namjoon leaned towards you and said, “Got to admire him for that couldn’t-care-less attitude he has.” Meanwhile, you watched him with worry.

He glanced at you momentarily, registering your look of concern as he sat down at his usual spot at one of the rows below.

Jungkook was in fact indifferent to what had happened, it was about time anyway. If he had no qualms about everyone calling him a trashy playboy, why would he be any more bothered by them gossiping about her? He was her son after all; promiscuity must be genetic.

Regardless, he turned his head ever so slightly towards the back row where you were seated and thought to himself, “but what great timing for this news to break.”

---

He didn’t show up at the bookstore that afternoon. After the lecture, you saw him walk out, blending into the crowd of people, and that was it.

You tried to focus on your work. There was a new title that just came out and you were busy setting up the book display.

The people who looked the calmest may bear the strongest storms within them. What if he wasn’t as indifferent to the situation as he looked on the outside? You were so deep in thought that you didn’t even notice your finger bleeding from a paper cut caused by one of the freshly-minted book covers.

“You alright there?”, your store manager asked, eyes staring down at the droplets of blood pooling at your fingertips.

You looked down and thought for a moment, “no I’m not, actually”. You took your phone out from your jeans’ pocket and decided to message Jungkook.

“Where are you?”, you actually just wanted to know this one thing. Maybe he’s fine and out partying somewhere, you hoped.

Your phone buzzed.

“Why? You worried about me?”

At least he was alive.

“Not exactly”, you typed but then deleted the message before you could send it. You were still deciding what to reply when your phone buzzed again, another message from him.

“Last room, basement, arts faculty. Come if you want, it’s fine if you don’t.”

Arts faculty? Wasn’t he in business school? It didn’t really matter because there was a more pressing question – were you going to go?

---

The room was clearly different from the other practice rooms, for the reason that it no longer resembled anything close to a practice room. Jungkook was sitting alone in the dimly lit chamber, cans of beer were strewn across the table and the floor. You walked in like you were entering a dragon’s den for the first time, trying very hard to make sure not to cause the dragon to stir.

Your shoes brushed past a crushed can and the jarring clattering noises has Jungkook looking up at you. He exuded the same vibes as the first night you met him; eyes the usual shade of darkness, moat of nonchalance and arrogance surrounding him.

He stared at you intently, and he spoke challengingly.

“Are you going to ask if I’m alright again? I’m not. So, for the second time, what are you going to do about it?”

What were you supposed to do in a time like this? What could you do for him? You walked over and sat next to him quietly.

Jungkook watched your every move closely. Were you just pitying him? Or does this mean his plan is succeeding?

You two sat in silence for a very brief moment.

“You know, Y/N, you should really take a page out of the other girls’ books. No guy will want you to just sit next to him when he is feeling down. That was not what I had in mind when I asked you what you were going to do about this”, his elbow was anchored on the armrest of the couch but his hands were waving around as he uttered those words.

He always spoke with a tinge of frivolity, you wondered whether it was his defence mechanism.

“If you called me here for that sort of reason, then I’m sorry, you may have gotten the wrong person. And honestly, I don’t know what can actually make you feel better, Jungkook, really…”

It was the first time you said his name. He was surprised that he wasn’t even getting frustrated about you rejecting his advances.

“But, if I can’t comfort you… I can try to share your pain”, you said as you held out a hand.

A beat passes.

“If that will make you feel less lonely, then take my hand.”

All he could do was stare at the hand you had extended to him. He said nothing, because what you said felt like everything.

822 notes · View notes

gotatext · 5 years

Text

claws my way out of the dirt like the goblin i am ..... hello thots, its nora, once again bringing you a revamped version of a muse i played yonks ago n some of u may have even written against... here is her pinterest.....

this is margaret greta, she’s a whole can of trauma spaghetti plastered over with a toothy grin and a lot of dad jokes. the only reason she’s in gifford really is bcos shes been put there as part of a witness protection program cos lots of police r monitoring livingstone so its deemed relatively safe.... haha... anyway she changes major all the time. she started off doing fine art but since then she’s done modules in architecture, film, bio-chemistry and is now dabbling in medicine.

CIS-FEMALE — ever hear people say GRETA O’DRISCOLL looks a lot like DIANA SILVERS? I think SHE is about 21, so it doesn’t really work. The MEDICINE major is a SOPHOMORE that is from DEADWOOD, SOUTH DAKOTA. They can be +CHARMING, but they can also be -EVASIVE. I think GEE might be SHEEP. They are living in YATES. ( nora. 23. gmt. she/her )

this bitch is the most restless creature u ever seen. before she came to livingstone, she’d lived in 8 different cities in 3 years.

was adopted as an infant. had two foster moms and two older sisters so always surrounded by women. lived in a boarding house, very much like the one in 20th century women, with lodgers coming in and out all the time, mostly artsy young women because her gay moms were both high school teachers trying to set up their own arts collective. one of her moms left when she was 4, n she doesn’t really remember her.

while living with entirely women made her super into catlin moran and the guilty feminist, as a teenager she often let boys walk all over her bc she just craved male attention jst bcos she’d never really experienced it. saw it as something aspirational, like sitting in the back of chad’s second-hand truck while he drove you to macdonalds and offered you and his five friends with identical haircuts weed was the height of being cool to greta, she wanted to be their dream girl, even if it meant compromising her beliefs

bubbly bitch but also massive snake. metaphorically and literally, always shedding her skin. loyal to few, ruled by none, out for herself, babey!! every place she goes, she becomes a new character, someone who’s a figment of her imagination, as if each city is repertory theatre and she’s a character actress, so as a result som ppl think she’s called rita, some ppl know her as margot, she just flicks through identities like nobodies business.

goes through phases of being intensely feminist and tweeting “men are trash i don’t need them” before flipping into being lonely and needy n wanting male attention again. tends to gravitate towards men who are just pieces of shit tbh like her friends are always like hun.... pick a nice boy..... but no.... she’ll go for the boxer with several arrest records for gbh or the small-town drug dealer just trying to hook her onto pills for a little extra cash, or the reformed sinner who thinks he’s being protective by reading all her texts and always knowing where she is..... n she always finds a way to spin it so that they Just Care About Her and aren’t a p.o.s

left school at 18 n didn’t go to uni, moved in w her boyfriend of the time instead, but soon got bored, n then went backpacking around the states making money in the casinos by being a shot girl (yeehaw) and trying to make it as a mysterious 1920s widow with a smoky voice, a dark secret n a heart of gold, looking for love in the big city. all she found was producers and acting agents who’d promise her stardom n actually just fuck her in a motel n then ignore her calls.

TW domestic violence, TW gun, her watershed moment came when she met luke in sioux falls while she was playing bass for a country n blues band. he was a few years older and had a car, and they kind of went from seeing each other to being that super intense couple who are just necking all the time.

they got engaged like 3 months after they met n rented a flat together, much to her family’s annoyance but she was 19 so there wasn’t much they could do. their relationship was super super intense though, often really heightened and when they fought it could become quite violent, but she’d pass it off as just him being really passionate.

one of their fights got really heated and greta threatened him with the gun he kept in the glove box of his vauxhall corsa, but the safety was off and she accidentally shot him. she pleaded self defence in the trial n cos of the amount of times she’d been hospitalised for various concussions n things like ‘fallling down the stairs’ the police were like yea... pretty watertight evidence that he was a bastard who [chicago voice] had it coming..... also this happened in 2017, he was mixed race and greta is white so naturally the police totally took her side. she’s now under witness protection, rehoused in livingstone as a sports-scholarship student, due to the amount of police involvement in the area, it would mean should one of luke’s family members try to track her down, she’d be relatively safe

massive sports fanatic. plays tennis. on the cheer team. was a track superstar in her high school. honestly just that sporty bitch, you’ll see her doing lines at a party at half four and then on your way to your 9am lecture you see her running across the park like a fresh fucking daisy who is this bitch

pretty easy to get along with (provided you don’t anger, provoke or question her too much) because she WANTS your character to be enthralled by her and will do whatever it takes to win them over. she wants everyone to love her

is That Girl who always knows where the parties are, and is always there, on the sofa, talking about institutionalised racism and trying to coerce you into a game of beer pong that she’ll definitely win. doesn’t really have one solid group of friends, just kind of on good terms with everyone and social butterflies about

has changed her major so many times. decision? who is she. currently studying medicine, but doesn’t rlly enjoy it. she’s very unmotivated and lazy and probably wouldn’t ahve bothered going to uni if she hadn’t been placed in one by a witness protection program. will probably change on to history or gender studies soon n just make up the extra credits by volunteering

massive feminist. low key quite scared of powerful men bcos of her ex. wants to start a female only lesbian commune bc she misses her childhood in a south dakota boarding house and has endless support for women. honestly annoyed that she is attracted to men, would so be 100% gay if it was a choice. cuffs her jeans and can’t drive. is That bisexual. skateboards. wears backwards caps. i hate her

plays bass guitar, has a teal green fender and it is her BABY. it’s covered in stickers about saving the planet and ending fracking and going vegan. she’s in an all-female punk band w agnes (n mayb jade i think) n they play gigs every now n then in grotty club basements full of druggy sweaty college kids

PERSONALITY: easy-going, sociable, observant, blunt, amiable, nihilistic, self-serving, laid back, independent, unmotivated, charming, lazy, impulsive, alluring. ESTP and a leo

LIKES: art, music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy, cowboy chic culture, DC comics, arcade games, candyfloss, deep red lipstick, marijuana, dogs, karaoke, Kate Moss, late-night strolls, zip-lining, chemistry, suspenders, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, cold coffee, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, boiler house DJ sets, magnolias, decorative lamps, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

DISLIKES: bananas, coffee, Woody Allen, mental mathematics, children, Trump, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, Wes Anderson films, spoken word poetry, the general mentality of cheerleading squads (despite being on one)

aesthetics:

a bubble of pink gum on chapped lips, mom jeans, a beaten up pair of adidas, denim jackets, strawberry laces, knee-highs, chapped lips, peeling sticky plasters, split knuckles, bruises you try to cover with concealer, stick and poke tattoos, hot coffee, sleep caught in your eyes on a lazy afternoon, kissing girls, cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, leonine arch of your back and that stellar smile that says ‘you have no idea who you’re dealing with’, a rucksack permanently packed for the move, a streak of red across your lips, roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your mom wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, his name scrawled in rage across the pages of a diary, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

wanted plots: since greta literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships, and girls from the cheer team who she’s like, weirdly intimate with like the shower together but its not a Thing cos the other girls straight, and I want like, fellow medicine students who are like?? how is this bitch still passing?? i swear she goes out every night?? she works part time at a fast food restaurant, i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry. ppl she did a few modules with before changing course and somehow sort of remaining in touch with, like she did a few art modules, a bit of film, n some architecture before switching to medicine, though she’ll probs switch course again soon. ppl who she runs track with. someone she’s trying to make a zine with. here’s a list of plots on her old blog if u want any of them w her.

would love plots of any type, throw them all at me please, i cnt wait to interact w all of u. like this if u want me to message you about connections / plots! xo

full biography if u can be bothered

trigger warnings: drugs, domestic abuse, gun.

you never meant for it to happen. you’d heard the stories, of girls who let their man walk all over them, and thought to yourself “i’ll never be one of those girls…” the kind that eat low-fat yoghurt and drink slim fast to shred a few extra pounds because he said she was getting round in the tummy, or the ones who spent their evenings tied to a kitchen sink drinking wine while him and the boys played poker, wishing god, if only I could get out of here. not you, not you raised by strong women, four bright shining beacons. single mother with her hard-as-nails attitude and her stony glares, elder sisters (twins) one ginger, one blonde, one doctor, one lawyer, both determined to take a bullet to the brain and a hammer to the patriarchy before they let a man touch them without asking. you were always so inferior, so insecure and small, like a bird (like a sparrow) with blonde plaits down your back sucking tropicana whilst your busom buds sucked dick, their lips permanently ripe with stories of their sexual exploits, fake tan and glittered nails whilst you sat in the unbroken egg of virginity wondering what it was like to be loved. one day you found out.

lily milligan’s parents gone and a free house for the night, bottles of ouzo and tequila swiped from your mother’s liquor cabinet thinking she wouldn’t know (she always knew) your legs, hardened from pep squad, slut dropping on a kitchen table because the boys thought it would be fun to get the quiet girl drunk. you’d never had a sip before that night. band t-shirts, denim shorts and the split soles of rotten converse that you refuse to let go of, you still clutched with both hands to your youth, but in a tube top now (borrowed from alice carmichael who had a sister in college) and a short tennis skirt, your feet not in trainers but in thigh-high boots. uncomfy as hell but lily said you needed to look sexy. you didn’t know if you wanted to be sexy. you didn’t know what kind of girl you were, if you were even a girl at all. but robbie looked at you like he knew exactly who you were, like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and his lips had the pink cupid’s bow of a movie star, and his hair was dark locks, curling like a mane. his hands were soft, and suddenly on your waist, and after three more shots his lips were on yours and his name was the only sound in your head and on your lips as you lost it in lily’s college sister’s bedroom beneath the glare of a T-Pain poster. you bled for what seemed like hours, his hand still in yours, kissing on the sofa as truth tellers and dare devils continued to spin a bottle of unprecedented youth. you thought it was love. robbie was the one. he loved you, you knew it, how else could someone be so soft? but soon he grew bored, scrunched up your paper heart and set it alight. then came the tears, the hatred, the ‘fuck robbie, in fact, fuck all boys.’ and that you did.

you were known for being easy. any boy could be yours for a night, as long as he promised to love you for those few short breaths and pants before you cried yourself to sleep. you felt poisoned, but poisonous as well, as if by ensnaring these young boys you were gaining power over them, and not the other way around. soon it started to work. they’d want more, but you’d deny them it, sick of sucking off silly schoolboys, they’d call you a tease, a vixen. maybe you were, but you couldn’t help but want older men. you got the history teacher first time, him bending you over his desk to sneak a hand up your tennis skirt as the after-school clubs carried on next door, unawares. love didn’t exist, not for you. it was nothing but a game for pretty young girls to play, bubble gum in their canines and a hand tugging at the hem of their cheer skirt.

there was so much anger inside of your small body, ‘beware of boys and their hook-like words’. hockey helped. there was something formidable about the feeling of a stick like a weapon in your hands and the thwack it made against thighs in the heat of a scrum - “slipped, sorry!” - you’d utter with a snakeskin smile, millicent quinn knowing that you’d hit her on purpose because she shagged robbie at that party last week. she couldn’t prove it, cobbled acne on her forehead turning green with disgust. ben came into your life like a car crash. two years your senior, with a baseball jacket and shoulders like a god. he became your personal hero. on the pitch, he was lethal. together, you could bring anyone to their ruin. each day after last period he’d be waiting in his car. you’d leap into his arms like a girl-half starved, love me, love me, love me, your heated kisses the envy of every junior girl. he was yours for three blissful years, utterly yours, and you were his, his star-spangled girl, and he was your knight - you were both the same, playing games, always difficult to predict. it was a shock to all when he proposed, high-school sweethearts find love in south dakota.

the engagement was a bittersweet affair; three months – you barely out of your gingham print skirts and into a graduation gown, him, a surly quarterback towering above your sisters, cigarette at his lips and a scowl like a fart in a lift. they hated him. so did you. but you were eighteen and in love, and he fitted the cookie cutter mould. everyone wanted him, and you had him. you had him and you were happy, happy, happy, and he loved you. he said he’d give you the world, anything you wanted hand-picked and given to you. instead, he gave you a jack russell terrier and a flat you couldn’t swing a cat in, wallpaper peeling like the rotten bits inside of you, the bits that only he knew. and you got tireder and tireder of the sad excuse of a life he’d picked out for you, him out doing god knows what to pay the bills, and you dancing on tables to pave your way to stardom, and this was love, this was real, until the shine wore off and your fresh-faced, dimple-cheeked cheerleader facade faded and the ugliness started to reveal itself, the whining, the petulance, the sharp-tempered cruelty, the mind games, the need to always win, win, win. he was dull, he was boring, he was nothing like the boy the girls had said he was and no chiselled six pack could hide his lack of anything remotely interesting, your patience wearing thin until it snapped like rubber, a rucksack on your back, running shoes on your feet and the joint bank account emptied into your eighth grade birthday wallet.

you built your small fortunes working the casinos of sioux falls, a crimson dress and an attitude to match. bookish archie with his little dipper freckles was fun for a month, before he became just as dull and dreary as the rest. a three hour bus and you were in minneapolis, bright eyed and bushy tailed, fresh meat ready for the pickings. a hostel here, a friendly co-worker’s sofa there as you made what you could by taking off your clothes and shaking your ass like you were back in pep squad, doing what you did best. you met your fair share of creeps, and soon it was back on the road to escape a wide-eyed stalker and a restless itch for more. milwaukee, chicago, you made the roads your own. log cabins and lodgings, and the occasional motel, a beaten up pick up truck purchased at a scrap merchants – you got a few miles out of it before it bit the dust, and when you finally set it alight after nights spent lounging across the driver’s seat, a parka tucked over you as a duvet, you were sad to see it go. you’re nomadic by fault, never attaching to place, people or things, creating a new personality in every place you go like a character actress; each town is a different repertory theatre, and you’re the star. a compulsive liar, you even fib about your own name, to some you’re ellen, nineteen, bookish, a law student who likes smoking and cosmos. to someone else you’re rita, you’re twenty five and look young for your age, like smoking, comics and fucking in public places.

in the bright lights of michigan, you found charlie, sweet charlie, too good for you, though you let him spoil you while he thought you were the small town girl of his dreams. next came abigail, who was fun until the jealously kicked in, and then luke, gorgeous luke, dangerous, exciting, who despite his temper, despite the fights, despite bruises down your spine and your teeth marks on his arms, loved you with the strength of a wild fire. there was destruction in your wishbones, a savageness from the field, from the pitch and now somehow in his arms, you were godly. he was cruel, he was careless, and he refused to fall at your feet like so many other boys had, which only you made you want him all the more. you were rage incarnate. you hated him so fiercely you thought you might kill him, so he played the only card you wouldn’t predict; proposed.

the house you shared was a backstreet flat in detroit, you making your name as a downtown singer while he footed the bill with pills. they had a drug for anything these days, to dull the senses, to pick them up, to drive you to insanity or pull you out of the madness hole. the two of you lived like criminals on the run (you never told him that you were, living out your days as the enigma he wanted you to be), you with your voice like caramel and fishnet legs. you were his and his alone until his hand was at your throat and the gun was in your hands screaming at him to stop, stop, stop, until a bullet stoppered his brain, crimson staining linoleum as you cast yourself out like lucifer. self defence was decreed the moment they saw your violet neck, black tears and headlight eyes and mind screaming red, red, red like the pom-poms you shook so willingly in school and the insides of his skull. you were gone, and “you” was born, renamed “greta”, boxed, shipped-out, and next-day delivered to livingstone where under witness protection you were a student, blank slate, fresh-faced in a place where no one knew your name, doing what you always did and starting again.

#livingintro #this is such a long boi....... waht the fuck.... u dont need to read the bio the summary notes are long enough fuking hell

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awesomeestudies · 5 years

Text

07/02/19

I liked doing a ‘day in the uni life’ set so much on Monday, that I decided to do it again yesterday. Thankfully, I’m starting to get back into the swing of uni now, though I’m not impressed at how cold most of my lecture theatres were...

8:56 - Ready for my first lecture of the day. So many people came in late because we hadn’t been to that lecture theatre before (and because it’s a 9am, of course).

9:59 - Time for the second lecture. The view from the back of this lecture theatre is amazing, but probably not worth having to walk up a set of spiral stairs to have to look the other way the whole time.

10:54 - Walking through the prettiest place on campus (not bias at all because it’s my department building...)

11:28 - Found a new part of one of the libraries to study in. Good for quiet study, not for sneakily trying to eat a snack.

12:00 - Final lecture of the day (go Wednesday’s!)

14:09 - Writing up all my lectures for the day in the library. I tried some of the new sofa seats and I regret it; the size of the seat meant I couldn’t lean back at all while working and my whole upper body was aching by the end. :(

17:12 - Dancing! It’s refreshers week so the class was super busy, but I still had fun and met some new people who hadn’t been to any classes before.

#studyblr #studying #library #second year #university #lecture #lecture notes

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pastelpastryblog · 6 years

Text

It was an accident Chapter.1 (M)

Genre: Angst, romance, drama

Rated Mature: Strong language, sexual, violence

Main characters: Melissa (reader), One/Jae (Jaewon) & Dean

“JAE?! JAEWON?!”

“Yes babe? *chuckles*, why are you shouting? Chill out”

“Do you have everything you need? All your things packed up?”

“Yes babe, I think so”

“Okay then, hurry up, your mum and dad are in the car waiting for you”

“Okay I’m coming!”

“Alright, I will be waiting in the car with your parents then. Remember to lock the door behind you!”

My boyfriend of 4 years, Jaewon, is going abroad for a job internship in Paris for two years. Me, his mother and his father are driving him to Paris because it is easier for him rather than him paying for more than one trips back and forward across the English Channel with lots of luggage’s. I am so nervous for him, for me and for us because we have been together since we were 18 and I do not want a long-distance relationship with Jaewon. He is my first boyfriend, my first love, my first everything and we met at university. I majored in Fashion Marketing, while Jaewon majored in Advertising & Marketing at university of London. We both had one class together, which was ‘Marketing communications’.

Okay, so let’s go back 4 years ago.

(Reader’s POV/Melissa)

I have finally been accepted in my university and I moved in 2 weeks before lectures started. My 3 friends from school, Jenifer, Temi & Yerin got accepted to different universities in different cities, meaning that I had no friends at my current university, at all. I am both an extrovert and an introvert so making friends was hard but easy at the same time but mostly hard. Because I didn’t make any friends, I didn’t leave my dorm room to explore my campus at all.

Living on campus was lit for everyone but me. Parties every day for 2 weeks straight, People taking drugs, everybody is sleeping with everybody and people already getting into beef. I really just wanted to go home at this point. My university campus had 3 dorm buildings, one was an all-girls dorm called ‘Trinity block’, one was an all-boys which was called ‘Angus block’ and the other was a mixed/ co-ed dorm building that was called ‘united block’. I lived in the all-girls dorm building ‘Trinity block’ because the mixed dorm ‘united block’ was full and I wasn’t really that fussed with where I ended up living. As long as I lived on campus, it was okay for me. The mixed dorm ‘Angus block’ was the dorm that was in between the boys and the girl’s buildings. It was the littest building in the campus.

My roommates were living their full lives out here, but partying, clubbing, drinking and smoking weed everyday was not my thing. Sleeping around was not my thing either. It just didn’t interest me. The same gender buildings were stricter compared to the ‘united block’, the security guards would never let the opposite gender go into the same sex dorms, but my roommates snuck boys in during freshers. My roommates Amara, Shelley & Christine. They were cool, but they were not my friends. They were a little bit annoying and dirty but me and Christine got on very well because we both speak French and because our rooms were closest to each other, even though we were totally different from each other. She was crazy, loud, made a lot of friends and would sneak boys into our building. She knew when the security man was on his break and stuff. But besides all of that, she was cleanest one out of the rest

Anyways, university finally starts, and the parties were dying down. I didn’t get to explore my campus when I moved here so I was lost. I usually hate being too early or being too late. But since it is the first day of university, I should at least leave my dorm 20 minutes, early right? Since my campus is so big and I could get lost (which I did). I didn’t make any friends during fresher’s week because I am kind of shy, which meant I didn’t leave my room at all. I wanted to make a good first impression for myself, so I made sure that I looked really good. I did my makeup nice but subtle and natural looking so that I can be somebody’s potential friend and obviously, because fashion is one of my majors. It is the beginning of October so it’s kind of warm but really cold at the same time. I wore a basic black long sleeved v neck body suit, black leather skinny jeans, black and white Stan Smith sneakers, a white overcoat, black leather bucket bag and a red scarf so that I don’t look too ‘black and white’.

Because I left extremely early I still managed to get to my lecture theatre early. In fact, I was like 15 minutes early for this 9am lecture, meaning what? Meaning that I was the first person there, yay. Best, absolute, perfect! Because I was really early, I managed to go up the stairs and sit at the back rows instead of the front ones, just in case the lecturers ask me question while they teach.

(Jaewon’s POV)

I had performed at university events for the past 2 weeks and as much as I liked being a rapper, I got tired of doing not only being at events but attending parties every day for the past 2 weeks. Partying was lit, don’t get me wrong, but for 2 weeks straight? HECK NO! Also, my personality was too chill for parties. All I wanted to do was to perform my songs at events and keep it pushing but that clearly didn’t happen because I got popular too fast.

Thankfully, the university finally starts, and the parties were dying down, which meant that I didn’t have to be at the parties anymore. Monday, the first day of my lecture came. I didn’t feel the need to wake my friends up for lecture because if I did, I would have not been able to get there on time. So, I managed to wake up really early, even though I was still lowkey hung over from yesterday’s partying for fresher’s week. I hated being early to lectures but I figured out, if I wanted to sit at the back row, I would have to get there at least 10 minutes early. I just threw on a black hoody, black skinnies, a black backpack, a grey overcoat, my favourite black cap and some grey and orange yeezy boosts.

I finally get to the lecture theatre 10 minutes early and I notice this one girl sitting at the back row. I couldn’t see her clearly at first because the distance was big. But as I got closer, I saw her. She was beautiful. She had such a wonderful fashion style, her hair was perfect, her lips were perfect, everything about her was perfect. I can even smell her lovely perfume scent from 8 steps below the top seats. I know that I am giving off creepy vibes right now with the staring, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her which was a bad because I ended up tripping on the stairs and just laying on there. I was embarrassed that my face went red. I really wanted to look cool for her but instead I looked stupid.

“omg be careful! Are you okay?” she says

(Reader’s POV/Melissa)

I bought a fashion magazine to read and plugged in my ear phones while waiting for the lecture hall to fill in. my music was not on full blast, I wanted to be aware of when somebody came in the hall. I see the big lecture door open and I see this really good-looking guy walk in. As he came closer, I realised who it was. It was that cool, good looking rapper guy that my roommates were talking about. What was his name again? Own? O? Owl? One, I think. During the fresher’s week, my roommates went out to this club and they were excited to go because apparently this One guy was going to perform. He was popular amongst the university students because of his good looks, his rapping skills and chill personality. If it wasn’t for my roommates, I would have never heard of him, they played his songs so many times at these parties on campus, especially from ‘Angus block’ that I had even started to know the lyrics. It was kind of annoying. I wasn’t interested in him like that, so I never search for his music and stuff. I didn’t want to stare at him for too long because popular boys like him start to feel like they own the world. They are normally cocky and thinks every girl will sleep with them, so I went back to reading my magazine and minding my own business.

All of the sudden, I heard a loud thud, I look up and I don’t see him anymore, why? Because he was on the floor. His hat flew a few steps back as well. I was kind of worried for him but at the same time, I kind of had a feeling that the alcohol from yesterday’s partying was still in his system so there was no way that he was going to act normal. I tell him to be careful and I ask him if he was okay. He wasn’t replying so I rush down to see if he is okay.

To be continued……

Next - Chapter 2

Will post chapter 3 if chapter 1 & 2 gets 100+ notes

Thank you

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 6 years

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Candid Complex (Chapter One)

Title: Candid Complex Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G+ Pairing/s: sormik Summary: If Sorey could go back in time to warn his past self about anything, he’d tell him that awkward situations don’t end after high school. In fact, it seems that they only get worse.

Or maybe that’s just his luck.

Notes: I love fake dating AUs, and so I shamelessly wrote this. Please enjoy!

AO3 Link

If Sorey could go back in time to warn his past self about anything, he’d tell him that awkward situations don’t end after high school. In fact, it seems that they only get worse.

Or maybe that’s just his luck.

Right now, all he can feel is the weight of two incredulous gazes locked onto him, and his own embarrassment at words he let slip.

Of course, his past self has had his fair share of tongue-slippage: countless times has he called people the wrong name or gotten himself confused during important conversations. That’s not even to mention the disastrous situations which come out of any white lie which might cross his lips.

Today’s lie is no exception.

Moments ago, everything had been fine. With their lecture having come to a close, Sorey had been chatting with a new friend of his, a fellow student named Mikleo. He’s only known Mikleo a short while, but something about their conversations makes it feel like far longer. It helps that he shares a lot of his interests, such as both of them having The Celestial Record as their favourite book.

Even if he’s not known him long, there’s something about Mikleo that makes him think they’d get on like this regardless of whether they shared interests or not. With every debate they have, he gets to see more of Mikleo’s shell crack and crumble, revealing more of the amazing person hidden inside. He can’t help but feel privileged to be the one to whom Mikleo is willing to show this side of himself, though Sorey knows there’s even more to this boy than he’s discovered so far. He wants to learn more about him, whilst still appreciating what he already knows. Something as small as seeing the corners of Mikleo’s lips curl up as he hears Sorey’s theories can be a comfort to him.

That small smile fades the moment they hear a soft cough from behind them. Turning to the source of the sound, they find a girl standing at the end of their row of seats in the lecture hall. She twirls a lock of her hair around her finger, blue eyes flicking between them under heavy lashes before settling on Sorey. Though the people squeezing behind her on the stairs send her many a glare for blocking the path, she doesn’t seem at all perturbed.

“Hi, Sorey,” she says in a tone which Sorey would call cheerful, though others might call sickly-sweet. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sorey says, leaning back against the seats so he can pay full attention to both his conversation partners. “What’s up?”

The girl’s eyes dart to Mikleo and back, a small pout forming on glossy lips when he doesn’t move.

“Tonight, there’s a new movie on at the cinema,” she says, pulling her lips back into a smile. “We should go together.”

Past Sorey might have been too naive to understand what this girl is alluding to, but at least present Sorey has experienced enough awkward confessions to know that she’s flirting with him. Well, that’s if this can even be called flirting - she’s downright asking him out. It’s not like this girl is unappealing, of course - she looks nice, and she must be intelligent, to be in this History class.

Sorey just isn’t interested.

“Sorry, I have plans,” he says in a genuine apologetic tone. “Mikleo and I are meeting up to study tonight.”

“Oh, really?” The girl leans forward a little, her finger curling under her chin. “The two of you seem close. You’d think you were going out or something.”

He doesn’t know what makes him do it.

For some reason, it’s his natural reaction.

He nods.

She freezes, blinking a couple of times. “Wait, you mean you two are…?”

If he had any sense, this would be his chance to fix things.

Instead he says, “Yeah…?”

This is where the stares of incredulity come in. The girl’s eyes remain wide, rimmed by her eyeliner in a way which makes her shock even more evident than it would normally be.

“Wow, I wouldn’t have guessed it,” she says, letting her hair fall away from her hand. “I didn’t know you even swung that way.”

It is at this moment that Sorey truly realises his mistake. Not that he doesn’t swing that way - he’s never thought much about swinging in any particular direction, to be honest - but making such an implication was never something he intended to do.

He doesn’t let himself look back at Mikleo, instead opening his mouth to say something, anything to rectify the situation-

Mikleo gets there first.

“We try to keep it on the down-low.” The words roll off Mikleo’s tongue smoothly, as though they’ve been rehearsed. As though this entire mix-up had been planned. “It’s kind of new for both of us.”

“I see. That’s great.” Her voice is strained, and she gives them a half-wave before walking in an equally stilted fashion down the steps of the lecture hall to where her friends await her. Her group exits the theatre in a flurry of whispers.

As guilty as Sorey feels for deceiving her, it’s incomparable to his guilt over forcing this situation on Mikleo. He turns to his friend, ready to apologise, only to find him with his arms crossed, a mischievous smirk playing across his lips.

“I wasn’t aware we were dating, Sorey,” Mikleo says in a low tone. Not that being quiet really matters, when the lecture theatre is empty at this point, save for them. “You should have told me sooner.”

Sorey puts a hand to the back of his neck and lets out a nervous laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m as surprised about it as you are.”

Mikleo lets out an exasperated sigh, putting his hand to his forehead. “You act way too much on impulse. Guess we can’t correct her now, though.”

“Huh?”

“She already thinks we’re dating,” he says, moving to pick up his bag. As he speaks, he puts his notebooks inside of it and slings it over his shoulder. “We might as well pretend to date for a little while, right?”

“I-”

“It won’t be that long, don’t worry.” Mikleo squeezes past Sorey to get to the other end of the row of chairs, with Sorey following only after an idle moment of delayed surprise.

“But-”

“No buts. You’re the one who started this, so you need to take responsibility.”

Before Sorey can respond, Mikleo walks down the stairs and out of the lecture hall, leaving him bewildered.

If only his past self could see him now.

Even a couple of hours later, at lunchtime, Sorey can’t wrap his head around the situation.

The cafeteria is as busy as always, with students milling around at tables and complaining about the prices of the re-heated food being served. He’s lucky to have grabbed his usual table before anyone else stole it.

Not that he cares much about that, at the moment. He pushes his rice around his plate; even the allure of the glistening mabo curry sauce does not appeal to him right now.

It’s not like he’s against pretending to date Mikleo. The only part of it he’s really averse to, having thought about it for a while, is the lying aspect.

(…Which is what the entire situation is based on, but regardless, it still irks him.)

He can’t deny that he thinks Mikleo is attractive, what with his beautiful white hair (how he keeps it so neat is beyond him) and sophisticated violet eyes. But the idea of having forced Mikleo into this kind of situation is what makes him uncomfortable.

(Not that Mikleo couldn’t have refuted his claim instead of going along with it.)

In any case, there isn’t any point in thinking too much about it. He’s better off taking this time as it comes, and seeing what a relationship with Mikleo is really like.

“What’s with you?” a voice says. “Thinking about your boyfriend?”

He looks up to see his friend Rose falling into the seat across from him. As always, the glint in her eyes is dangerously inquisitive.

On impulse, he almost denies her accusation, but catches himself at the last second. “Er, yeah. Kind of.”

Rose pauses in unzipping her backpack, her mouth falling open in shock. “Wait, you’re not denying it. Did you actually ask nerd boy out?”

Sorey can’t help but wince at the nickname. Ever since he told her about his new friend from History class, she’s been calling Mikleo by that name, and teasing Sorey every time he mentions him.

“It’s complicated.”

Despite the cringe shivering up his spine at the memory of the awkward conversation, he relays it to Rose, who looks more and more amused by the second. When he finishes, she doesn’t hesitate in letting out a choked laugh.

“Only you could get your crush to pretend to date you!”

“He’s not my crush,” Sorey says half-heartedly.

“That’s because he’s your boyfriend,” Rose jokes. “Kind of.”

“Well, it’s not like I meant to agree with that girl. And he’s the one who went along with it.”

“True, but doesn’t that seem a little fishy to you?” Rose leans forward, pressing her lips together. “It doesn’t exactly sound like he was complaining about the prospect of dating you.”

“What?” Sorey frowns. The situation was an honest misunderstanding, so he doesn’t see how Mikleo’s behaviour is suspicious in any way. “I trust him. He was just being kind, to go along with it like that.”

“Most people wouldn’t date someone they’ve only talked to a few times.”

He opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again when he finds his own counterarguments failing on his tongue. It is true that Mikleo’s agreeing might seem strange to someone like Rose, who hasn’t met him before. Still, Sorey wants to trust him.

Besides, he’s equally at fault for this situation happening in the first place.

“It’ll be fine,” he says.

Seeing his stubbornness, Rose shakes her head, finally pulling her lunch from her bag, as if in defeat. “Just don’t let him hurt you, okay?”

“Thanks, Rose.”

It only takes a few bites of her food for Rose to perk back up again, looking up at him with a conspiratorial grin. “So, where are you gonna take him for your first date?”

Sorey pauses in his thoughts. “What do you mean?”

Her face goes blank. Slowly, she says, “Usually when you date someone, you go places with them, on dates.”

“Oh, I hadn’t even thought about that.” He wonders if Mikleo has thought this far into their relationship. Probably, given that he told Sorey to take responsibility, earlier.

“Well, luckily for you, I’m an expert in stuff like this!” Rose gestures to herself with a grin.

“Didn’t your last boyfriend end up being a psychopath?”

“We don’t talk about Konan.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s cool.” Rose takes a big bite of her food then speaks thickly through it. He barely understands when she says, “I still have more experience than you.”

She’s right there - this is Sorey’s first relationship, fake or otherwise. Thinking about that makes him feel a little anxious, to be honest. He doesn’t know what Mikleo expects of him, but he hopes whatever it is, it isn’t too much. Mikleo presents himself like the kind of guy who must have been on dates before, given his confidence. If he wants to make this relationship seem realistic, he’ll need to pull out all the stops.

As if she can read his thoughts, Rose stops him in his tracks. “Before you get sidetracked, dates don’t have to be huge romantic gestures, you know. Find somewhere you want to go with him and do it without thinking too much. You’re hanging out with him, that’s all.”

“I know,” Sorey says, even as more doubt floods into his mind.

“You’ll be fine, so long as you don’t over-think it.”

“I know.”

Rose frowns. Leaning over the table, she pokes the space between his furrowed brows. “You’re over-thinking it.”

Sorey smiles guiltily. “Maybe. Sorry.”

“Why don’t you go to that ice cream place you like?” she suggests. “I’m sure he must have a sweet tooth, if he has a taste for you.”

“What do you mean?” He waits a few seconds, but when Rose doesn’t answer, he gives up. “That sounds like a good plan, though. Thanks, Rose!”

“That’s what friends are for,” she grins. “Now eat your food already! It’s gotta be freezing by now!”

“Oh, shoot!”

Studying with Mikleo is something Sorey has enjoyed doing, since they became friends.

Usually, it’s not an eventful affair. They spend an hour or two poring over books in the library, often engaging in lengthy discussions about particular theories or events, both coming from different perspectives due to their differing degree subjects. This is accompanied by the librarian glaring at them whenever their voices get a little too loud, even though they’re in the group study section of the library. At the end of their session, they bid each other farewell and head their separate ways, no fuss.

Tonight, that is not quite the case.

Somehow, the news about Mikleo and Sorey being a couple seems to have spread a fair distance even in a few short hours. When Sorey walks into the library, the hush is unlike anything he’s experienced before, and the feeling of eyes on him is unnerving, to say the least. He navigates his way through the tables and bookshelves, trying to focus on finding Mikleo.

He finds Mikleo in their usual corner of the library with his head down, intently gazing at his book, possibly in an attempt to block out the staring and whispers of the people around them. Though this area is usually one of the quieter places, it seems that all of the tables here have suddenly become the more popular study spots. At the sound of his footsteps, Mikleo looks up and his expression relaxes.

“Hi,” Sorey says, moving toward his usual chair across from him. Before he can get there, however, Mikleo tugs at his sleeve, gesturing for him to take the seat next to him instead.

“There’s something I want to show you,” he says in lieu of an explanation. He waits for him to sit down before explaining in a low voice, “We need to act like a couple, remember?”

Feeling the weight of the people around them as he walked in is enough to make Sorey understand why something like this is important.

“Do couples always sit this close together, though?” he asks. It’s not like he doesn’t like sitting close to Mikleo - it’s actually nice, feeling the warmth of his arm pressing against his own through layers of fabric. He’s only surprised that this lack of space seems to be a prerequisite for a relationship.

Mikleo makes a noise of affirmation, closing his eyes as he runs a hand through his hair. Sorey can’t help but watch how his hand moves through white tresses, pushing his fringe away from tired violet eyes. It falls back in a slightly messier variant of its usual flicking style. “So much for keeping it on the down-low.”

“It’d be more of a problem if we didn’t already have this as a solution,” Sorey says. “Although I don’t really get why everyone is so interested in us all of a sudden.”

“A mystery even greater than the ruins of the past,” Mikleo says, a corner of his lips perking up. He pushes his book towards Sorey and points at something on the page. “Speaking of which, I found an interesting passage here…”

For the rest of their study session, they remain in close contact, their tones lower than usual. The whole time, their arms press against each other in a way which is far from uncomfortable. If he focuses, he can feel Mikleo’s heart beating through his skin, can hear each intake of breath between words, can see how his fringe brushes over his eyes when he bends down to examine the book more closely.

‘Is this why couples sit close together?’ he wonders each time he finds a new distraction in Mikleo.

“-and though the style imitates the Temperance of Avarost, I think it’s from a later period- Sorey? Are you listening?”

Flinching, he finds Mikleo frowning at him. “Ah, sorry. I kind of blanked for a second there.”

Mikleo puts his pen down, focusing his attention on him. “That’s not like you. Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine, I promise!” He smiles, hoping his words will comfort him even a little.

For a moment, Mikleo watches him, as though waiting for him to change his mind. When he doesn’t, though, Mikleo returns to his explanation, and this time, Sorey makes sure not to get so distracted.

He also doesn’t let himself get distracted later on, at the end of their study session. The feeling of the cool breeze gives him a sense of relief. Even after people stopped looking at them, the weight of their eyes lingered on him. Just being outside feels far more comfortable - almost cleansing.

As usual, they are still deep in debate when they get outside, though their words soon die down as they reach the point where they usually part ways. They stand at the intersection of their two streets, a tall tree marking the point where they separate.

“We should meet up again,” Mikleo says. “Outside of studying, I mean.”

“I’d like that!” After a pause, Sorey shifts his weight to his other foot. “Actually, I was wondering if you might want to go out with me tomorrow?”

Mikleo’s eyes widen a fraction before softening into a smile. “That sounds nice. Do you have something in mind?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know the details tomorrow.”

“It’s a date, then.”

Hearing the word come from Mikleo’s mouth makes the situation feel more real, even if it’s supposed to be fake. The smile on his lips feels genuine, too.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Mikleo’s smile is a gentle slope, combined with shimmering eyes and slightly pink cheeks. “Me too. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

By the time Sorey snaps out of his daze, Mikleo is already heading in the opposite direction. He barely manages to call a goodnight to him in enough time that it doesn’t seem weird to have replied so late in the conversation. He watches until Mikleo disappears around a corner, his heart fluttering in his chest.

(Note to younger self: Maybe not every awkward situation is destined to go badly. Sometimes it might even be worth going along with the ride, no matter what happens. The best things come from where you least expect them, after all.)

#sormik #tales of zestiria #toz #tales of zestiria fanfiction #fanfiction #phew it's finally here #i love this au so much but i just want to shove it out into the world now #it's been through four drafts it needs to be seen by someone who isn't me #fun fact: this is the second zestiria fic i ever planned!#back in march when i'd just finished the game i got the idea to write a fun fake dating au #and here we are now #it got out of hand lol

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ilyseok · 7 years

Text

The Assistant

Fandom: GOT7 Pairings: Choi Youngjae x Reader Genres: Fluff, college AU Rating: PG Words: 3.3k

Summary: Are you going to the cute TA’s office hours because you’re failing zoology, or are you failing zoology because you’re too distracted from going to see the cute TA?

AO3 Link

A/N: Happy birthday, sunshine <3 I loved writing this - the iguana that my college kept in our department makes an appearance in the fic. As does the professor Y/N hates so much... lol I had a lot of fun reliving old college memories after this. This is my submission for CYJ fic fest 2017 :) Enjoy!

Photo cr. bona5010 - Please do not take without credit.

"All available graduate assistants: please report to the second floor immediately."

The intercom dinged as the department chair hung up the phone, ending his announcement. You turned to your friend, Sooyoung, with a smirk and quirked an eyebrow.

"Chubbs escaped again, eh?" she said. You folded over in laughter as seven different research and teaching assistants bolted out of their offices and laboratories, each one quickly making their way to the stairwell at the end of the hallway.

"I thought the zoology club was going to build a bigger cage for him," you said. "One with a working lock."

You fought the urge to sneak upstairs to watch the drama unfold as Chubbs the Iguana had escaped from his cage for the fourth time this week.

"You going to watch?" Sooyoung asked, knowing how much you loved to observe the chaos among the department staff as the nineteen-pound lizard marched through the hallway like he owned the place, new students ducking out of his way while the juniors and seniors watched intently.

"No, I've got to go to the third floor," you sulked.

"Office hours? Again?" she said.

You nodded and pointed your feet in the opposite direction to head toward the stairs. "I'll see you after theatre lecture, Sooyoung," you said as you walked away. Sooyoung nodded and waved, then turned around to take the opposite stairwell to spectate the show on the second floor.

The third floor of Spellman Hall is perhaps the most relaxing place to be, for a life science building. Some of the laboratory doors were open, and you could hear music resonating through the empty halls. You could distinguish the reggae above the rest as it echoed from the lab belonging to Dr. Jacques. You walked quickly, wanting to get away from any reminders of your nightmare of a professor.

At the opposite end of the hallway, you navigated around several twists and turns to make your way to the graduate assistant offices, and then stopped in front of the door labeled "Choi Youngjae."

"Y/N, are you sure you're going to your TA's office hours because you're failing zoology, or are you failing zoology because you keep going to your cute TA's office hours? Which is it? The chicken or the egg?" You remember Sooyoung badgering you one afternoon before class, to which you promptly replied with "the egg" because if there's one thing you've learned in that godforsaken zoology course, it's that the egg came before the chicken.

Softly, you rapped on the door underneath his nameplate.

"Come in!" he said. Without even seeing his face first, you knew he had that big ol' grin plastered on his face by the tone of his voice.

You pushed open the door and poked your head through. "Hey, it's me. Got a minute?" you asked, breathless from the mere sound his voice and his smile.

"Y/N! My favorite student," he laughed. "What's up?"

"I have some questions about our last exam," you said sheepishly. "I don't understand what I've done wrong."

You pulled out your exam - marked with a big fat "F" - and laid it on his desk to examine. He pushed his thick-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and read for several minutes, flipping through the pages and making notes on some sticky notes. Your eyes scanned the wooden bookshelf behind him as you anxiously waited, making a note of the many pictures of a small, white Maltese dog and the stacks of textbooks he'd collected over his years as both an undergraduate and graduate student.

When he finished, he rolled his office chair to the other side of the desk, next to you with his left arm touching yours. "This problem right here - this is where you went wrong," he said. "This is a nine-part question, so you need to have the first answer correct to figure out the rest." His breath smelled like freshly baked sugar cookies - intoxicatingly sweet and tempting to just lean over and-

Your fantasies were dreadfully interrupted when a picture of Dr. Jacques' face flashed through your mind, with his green and yellow John Deer hat and the permanent scowl embedded in his features. You could even hear his gruff voice as you distinctly remembered his words from the first day of class. "It's 'Jakes,' not 'Zhock,' if you'll kindly learn to pronounce my name right. I'm not a famous French explorer."

Youngjae peered closely into your petrified face and waved a hand in front of your eyes. "Y/N? Hello?"

"Right! Yes. Sorry," you said and perked up in your seat, relieved the war flashbacks had ended but also embarrassed that you likely appeared to be completely uninterested in his explanations.

He frowned and pushed his glasses back up again, then took a red pen to your exam. "It'll be easier for you to take the next exam if you can keep the order of your classification hierarchies straight."

"Yes, I've been having a lot of trouble remembering how that goes," you admitted.

He was silent as he wrote the letters K, P, C, O, F, G, and S in a straight, vertical line on the side of the page. You watched him curiously out of the corner of your eyes as you took a sip out of the bottle of cola from your backpack as he filled in words next to each letter:

"King Phillip Cries Out For Great Sex"

The carbonation of the soft drink burned the back of your nasal passage as you choked and nearly sprayed soda through your nose. With great restraint, you were able to manage your coughing and took a few more sips to clear your throat. Thankfully, Youngjae was too busy writing the real meanings next to each word off to the side to notice.

"It's easier to remember the order when you use a mnemonic," he said, then finally looked up at you to make sure you understood. A smile instantly spread across his features, and he doubled over, clutching his stomach in a fit of laughter.

"Your face," he breathed between giggles, "it's so red."

You cursed your luck and desperately wished you wore an oversized sweatshirt to the office that day, to bury your nose into the soft fabric - anything to get the attention away from your face. "It's not my fault you give your students perverted mnemonics," you murmured.

He chuckled. "That is the one I use because most people seem to remember it the easiest," he said and leaned back in his chair. "Hey, at least there's no way you can forget that now, is there?"

A fair point.

"Yeah, thanks," you said with your chin tucked down and pulled your exam back from him. He rolled back to the other side of the desk as you shoved the packet of papers back in your bag and hauled the heavy pack over your shoulders. For a minute he clicked through the screen of his MacBook Pro, so you said your goodbyes and set out to get lunch before your last class, but by the time you rounded the corner, Youngjae called after you.

"Y/N!" He hurried out of his small office to catch up with you, a yellow flyer in hand.

“Yes?”

“The zoology club is planning a trip to the zoo for an end-of-the-semester celebration. We’re trying to get the university to pay for it as a school-funded activity, but we need at least one more person to justify asking for the reimbursement,” he said, holding out the flyer to you. “Would you like to go?”

Without skipping a beat or even a second thought, you enthusiastically nodded and took the sheet of paper from him. “Yes!”

He exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath, then rested his palms on his knees. “Thank goodness. They’ll be so happy to go,” he said. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“No, thank you,” you said. You checked your watch and panicked as you realized you were almost late for your next class. “Bye, Youngjae!” you scurried away, faintly waving to him.

He stared blankly at you as you ran away and managed to raise a hand to wave back weakly. “Bye!”

Lions, tigers, and bears - oh my.

The two youngest members of the zoology club led the group as you walked the length of the park as a group, occasionally stopping to take pictures of every exhibit and to upload videos of cute baby animals to Instagram. Yugyeom dragged Bambam by the wrist, then suddenly stopped when he noticed the giant vivarium in the center of the park. He pointed toward the lit sign that read “Monkey House,” and suddenly exclaimed, “We have to go!”

Poor Bambam had no warning before his friend broke into a run with his hand still tightly gripping his wrist, dragging him along for a brisk jog up the steep hill leading to the vivarium. Meanwhile, Jaebum, Mark, Jackson, and Jinyoung strolled along casually behind them. You laughed at the energetic kid and his enthusiasm, wishing that you could borrow some of that energy for yourself.

The hot sun bore down on you, making you regret your choice in long-sleeved shirts as you roasted like a chicken in the oven on Christmas day. Youngjae walked on beside you without saying much, but he seemed to be completely unaffected by the giant heat lamp in the sky.

This is what happens when the sun is outshined by star brighter than itself.

“Are you okay? You look like you could use a break,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

You didn’t want to complain before, but since he was offering, you admitted to it.

“Actually, I’m feeling kind of sick,” you said, rubbing your forehead. Youngjae pulled you to the side by your upper arm, and you stumbled, feeling an onset of nausea and the world spin around you. He sat you on a nearby bench in the shade and bent down to your eye level.

“Do you need some food? Anything to drink?” he frowned.

“Too warm,” you said, not sure if you were referring to the sun or his hand resting on yours.

“I’ll get you something to drink. Just wait here,” he said, jumping up from the ground and running off to the nearest vending machine. He returned a few moments later a can of lemonade and cracked it open.

“I’ve heard this brand was pretty good, so I thought you might like it,” he said, holding the can out to you. You welcomed the sour aftertaste of the drink and puckered your lips after the first sip.

He sat next to you on the bench and hunched over, folding his hands in his lap. "We can sit here as long as you like. Don't worry about the others - they can handle themselves."

You tipped your head back to chug more of the sweet drink, muttering a small "mhm" with a mouthful before you swallowed. "Is there anything you want to see today? You've been following around the other members until now."

He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. "Actually, I've always wanted to visit the aquarium, but I've never had the chance," he said.

"Well, why don't we visit it today? I don't mind walking around a building with air conditioning," you said after finishing your drink and tossing the can in the recycling bin next to you. You stood and stretched your arms and legs. "Thanks for that, by the way."

A grin spread across his face, clearly excited to visit the aquarium. "No problem."

The cold rush of air at the entrance of the aquarium building was a welcome reprieve from the humidity of the late spring day. Aside from the white and gray paint on the walls, the entire building glowed with a faint blue tint from the light emanating from the tanks.

Youngjae wandered through the maze of hallways and dead ends with his hand on the small of your back, watching the moving marine life with fascination and wonder. His favorite displays were the brilliantly colored saltwater tanks with their colorful foliage and bright, exotic fish. Your personal favorite was the manatee tunnel. Aquamarine hues of light surrounded you as you walked through the tunnel surrounded by glass and water on all sides, and you watched intently, straining your neck to follow the movement of the majestic sea cows. A small calf swam up to the tunnel window, nudging the glass. You could faintly hear a squeak from the other side of the glass display.

You tapped Youngjae's shoulder and pointed to the calf. "Look, Youngjae!"

"Aww, hey little guy! Where's your mother?" he spoke sweetly to the marine mammal. Just then a larger cow swam up to the window and cried out to the baby. "Ah, there she is."

The tunnel ran the length of the entire south wing of the building, so by the time you arrived on the other side, you saw the setting sun through the small windows of the exit doors. "We should go," you said.

"Yeah," he said calmly, looking back at the tunnel and some of the displays you saw earlier. "Thanks for coming."

When you opened the doors again, you were struck by the warm air, making you remember how nice you'd had it inside the aquarium. You scanned the area in front of you from the top of the stairs before you started your descent, hoping to find some of the other members as the park would close soon. Before you knew it, they were calling out to you from afar.

"Y/N!" Yugyeom called out as he sprinted over to you. "We finally found you! Where did Youngjae go?" He rested his palms on his knees, panting when he finally caught up to you.

You hadn't realized he'd slipped away so quickly until Yugyeom pointed it out. You shrugged. "Not sure. He was just here a minute ago."

"Hopefully he comes back soon. JB is getting cranky, and he's still our driver," Bambam said, casually walking up behind the youngest member. "We need to go home."

Attention, Seoul Grand Park Zoo will be closing in 15 minutes. Please note locker rentals and the park gift shops will be closing at this time, a voice announced over the park intercom system.

You whined, disappointed that the shops were closing so soon as you wanted a souvenir for yourself. "That's a shame. I wanted to check out the gift shop," you said with a sigh. "There's always next time, I guess. Let's go find Youngjae."

"I'm right here," a familiar honeyed yet deep voice spoke from behind you. You jumped when a soft object poked and tickled your back, and you looked over your shoulder at Youngjae who held out a small stuffed otter in his outstretched hand.

You couldn't contain the squeal that escaped your lips. "Oh my god - it's so cute!"

"You said otters were your favorite, right?" he said. Your face flushed - you couldn't believe he remembered something so small that you had only off-handedly mentioned once in his office.

You nodded and hesitantly took the plushie from his hands. "Yes, thank you. You didn't have to-"

"I wanted to," he said, flashing the most charming smile your way. The two of you were caught up in your world until Jaebum, who'd snuck up behind the younger members, cleared his throat loudly.

"Let's get this show on the road, kids," he said.

Youngjae looked at you fondly and placed his hand on the middle of your back to usher you forward. "Ready?"

"Mhm."

The members of the zoology club crashed for the majority of the car ride back. Their content, sleeping faces brought warmth to your heart and made you giggle as both Yugyeom and Bambam leaned on each other as they slept, mouths hanging wide open. Yugyeom stirred and wiped a trail of drool from his face before going back to sleep, resting his head against the window this time. You envied them. As tired as you were, there was no way you could sleep when you sat in the back of the university van with your entire right side up against Youngjae’s left. The two of you talked in depth about the biology department, his assistantship, and your upcoming final exam in two weeks’ time.

“Sorry I can’t be of much help. Dr. Jacques won’t even tell me what he’s putting in the final,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “If it were up to me, I’d give you a good score, but I don’t have a say in the matter. I can only grade your lab reports.”

You groaned. “Thanks for trying anyway.”

He patted your thigh and placed his hand on your knee, making you painfully aware of the warmth of his hand. You wished you could see his face in the darkness.

“Soon it will all be over. I can’t wait, to be honest.”

“You must be pretty happy to get rid of us undergraduates, right?” you laughed nervously and gave him a tender smile.

“No, no, it’s not that,” he waved off. “As much as I am looking forward to my break, I enjoy the time I spend with my students.” The sincerity of his smile pierced your heart like a ray of sunshine peeking through a clearing in the trees on a bright, sunny day. You fought the urge to squeal over the brightness reflected in his smile.

“What is it, then?” you asked.

A small hiccup of surprise escaped your lips, and your heart fluttered when Youngjae leaned in and cupped your ear with his hand, his breath tickling your ear and the back of your neck. His next few words left you speechless but in a good way.

He pulled away and searched your face for a reaction - preferably a positive one, but he supposed no reaction could also be considered a positive response. When he realized your struggle to form a coherent response, he reached into the front pocket of his backpack and pulled out a party-size Snicker’s bar and a sharpie. After writing a quick note, he carefully and subtly tucked it into the palm of your hand.

Your moment was interrupted when the street lights leading up to your driveway blinded you, and Jaebum spoke up from the front of the van.

“Do you want me to drive you to your front door, Y/N?” he said.

“No, you can just drop me off here. You won’t be able to get through the gate without my key card,” you said and gathered up your purse and your souvenir otter from Youngjae. Jaebum pulled up as far as he could and put the car in park to let you out.

“Thanks for the day out,” you said.

Youngjae squeezed your shoulder. “See you in class, Y/N.” He waved, and you ducked your head down once more to wave back before slamming the car door shut. You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to leave the boys because that meant the day was over and you’d be alone again. Your hesitation disappeared when Jaebum finally drove away.

Absent-mindedly fiddling with the wrapper of the candy bar in your hand, you took a shortcut across the lawn and through the garden back to your building. Your stomach growled, and suddenly you were thankful for the candy. It had been several hours since you last ate, after all. Just as you were about to tear into the wrapper, you noticed the note on the underside of the flap and held it close to your face to make out the words in the dark.

Call me after finals week. (XXX)-XXX-XXXX - Youngjae :)

Never have you looked forward to finals week, until now.

Youngjae leaned over to cup your ear, and his warm breath tickled your neck. His lips accidentally brushed your ear, earning another muffled squeak from you, and you sensed the smirk on his face, even in the dark. Your heart raced in your chest as he spoke.

“It’s because I can’t date my students.”

#kpoptrashtag #kreativewritersnet #cyjficfest2017 #noonanet #choi youngjae #cyj fic fest #got7 #got7 fanfic

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rhainontheshelves · 7 years

Text

Musical Theatre!Rocky

A/N: Please forgive me please!! You have a long-ass bullet scenario ahead of you if you choose to proceed because yo girl doesn't know how to condense rip This is dedicated to an awesome friend, @sanhatation! The feelings might be long past but I promised to write this for you. A short part 2 will be coming to describe the life under the stage lights. Happy Reading! - Rhin

Rocky originally wanted to go to school for dance

Why wouldn't he? He knows he's stellar

But, he also wanted to sing

Unfortunately, it wouldn't be possible for him to get a minor in vocal

Dance takes a lot of effort and practice hours

So he worried and thought about it a lot over his senior year of high school

One day, Sanha approached him with a poster

It was advertising auditions for the school spring play

Immediately, Rocky was interested; acting had always piqued his curiosity but he had never gotten a chance to try it

He accepted the offer

Cue many practice meets with Sanha (who was auditioning as well) to memorize the monologue required

He memorized it quickly, just like any step or note

Pretty soon he made it his own, reciting with sincerity and little hand motions

At one point Sanha wondered if it was even worth it to audition anymore because Rocky was killing it

Come audition day

The director and the people helping him judge were very impressed with this young man they only saw passing the theater to go to the practice rooms

By the end Rocky was virtually guaranteed a spot in the production

He walked out of there the proudest boy alive but also as the most internally dying and relieved it was over with

Because he will never admit it but the audition really stressed him out and he worried over miniscule details

About three days later the director approached Rocky

He wanted to talk about the role he was thinking of assigning to the boy

It was an important part, however it wasn't the lead

"It's your first time." Was the director's reason

This disappointed Rocky a bit but the director had come with a plan in mind

Rocky would also be assigned as the understudy for the lead

The director had some suspicions about the boy casted as the lead's loyalty to the show, so if he did leave Rocky would get the role he really deserved

This pleased both parties and the next day the cast list was posted

A month later, practices were in full swing after school

Rocky was well on his way to getting his part down word-perfect and memorizing the lead's lines

He liked the cast and had made some new friends

The vibe in this group was carefree and fun while still hard-working

That's Rocky in a nutshell so he fit in quite nicely

The only thing that he didn't like was the inactivity

There were plenty of stage directions, sure

places he needed to be and actions that needed to be carried out

but where was the variety?

he thought back to when he was a tot and his grandparents took him to a show

There was dancing and excitement and singing and emotion throughout the whole thing

he wondered what had changed since then

turns out nothing had

he was just in the wrong year

"We switch between musicals and plays every other year," giggled Doyeon, the girl who was casted as the female lead

"You just came a year too late. I'm sure you'll have a chance to do one sometime in the future."

Rocky sure hoped so

First show night couldn't have come fast enough

There were still parts that needed more work, which is normal in any production

But the director felt that this was the most prepared that any of his recent shows had been

certainly not because of how hard some had wanted work to catch up and surpass Rocky

The show went amazingly well but there are always the oopses

aka a couple of props falling apart in the user's hands

Improvisation is a wonderful thing

It seemed like bows came too soon

Rocky stood up at the front of the stage with the rest of the cast, smiling and waving a bit after their final bow

His heart was soaring

The only thing that compared was when he finished performing one of his own choreographed dances and he got a standing ovation

That's when he realized that this was what he wanted to with his life

Fast forward to the last part of 2nd quarter, freshman year of college

He had just finished his homework for a history class and headed down to the theater department to grab audition material for the spring musical

Gotta start early

He gets outside the professor's office and sees someone else is in there

So he hangs around and waits, because he can be patient

He ends up dancing for like ten minutes, waiting, because this meeting is taking a really long time??

The door finally opens and a really happy girl exits

Rocky swears that the hallway gets a bit brighter

She turns around to thank the professor one last time but sees Rocky and almost has a heart attack

She totally didn't notice him there

Now flustered, she rushes away without giving Rocky a chance to see if she was okay

Slightly confused, Rocky just watches her go

The professor is in the exact same boat Rocky is

So they let it go and have a small talk about what the auditions require

For the rest of the quarter Rocky sees the girl in a lot of his classes and comes to the conclusion that she has the same major he does

However, before he gets the chance to approach her Christmas Break rolls around and he's off on the road back home

3 weeks, one memorized song and dance routine later, 2nd semester starts

Musical auditions are at the end of the first week back

and that first week couldn't have seemed slower

Lectures stretched on forever and homework seemed to take twice as long as it usually did

Finally, the last class on Friday was dismissed and Rocky was out of there like lightning

his class ended about halfway through the audition hours r.i.p

He ran as fast as his dancer legs would carry him over to the auditorium

Luckily the line is semi-long so he has time to catch his breath

The line shortens to about half the length it was when another person sprints in

The thudding of tennis shoes makes Rocky look up from the sample script

lo and behold the girl that ran away that one day is bent over a couple of feet away from him

"Are auditions over?" she asks fearfully

"No, I'm the end of the line" he replies

"Okay, good" she comes over to stand next to him in line

Rocky wonders if she recognizes him

she barely got five seconds in before she dashed away so he figures probably not

silence settles

until she curses

"I forgot my music in my room" she hisses to herself, smacking her head

Rocky's mouth runs before she can

"You can borrow mine, I have it memorized anyway"

she stares at him in surprise

"Really?"

"Yeah, here"

"Thank you so much!" Her gloomy mood brightens and Rocky's world does too

"No problem"

By this time the next person is called, and Rocky is torn away from a perfect opportunity to talk to her.... again

The audition goes by fast as always

Rocky stays for the girl's audition

Now or never am i right

She does a great job

Dancing needs a bit of work but that comes with practice

He's still standing in the doorway when she comes up the aisle

she gives him a "why are you still here" look but quickly replaces it with a smile

"You did awesome!" she compliments

"Same to you," Rocky nods

"Nah, I was just average... Thanks again for letting me use your music, uh... what's your name?"

"Minhyuk, but you can call me Rocky if you want to."

Cue the Zelda "object acquired" music because a new friend has just been made: (Y/N)

Rocky walked (Y/N) back to her dorm and got to know her a bit

She indeed has the same major as him

Her dream was to be on Broadway someday

but she's going through a slump rn so things aren't going so hot

Rocky understands; that happened with him and dancing around 7th grade

He promises himself that he'll check up on her and make sure everything's going okay

so he acquires her number before she takes the stairs up to her floor

and proceeds to do just that over the rest of the semester

checking up becomes full-blown conversations complete with memes

and they became best friends

they both got into the production that year

which made them even closer ofc

Summer Break rolls around and (Y/N) and Rocky swear to not let distance separate them

it doesn't

and this friendship continues until Junior year....

when (Y/N) drops out

her parents can't continue to support her financially and she doesn't have enough to support herself

Rocky, of course, is devastated

Where will (Y/N) go? Will she be safe? What about her dream??

He dies inside while helping her move her stuff out of the dorms and into her car

He goes back to cry in his room when her car is finally out of sight

The rest of the day is spent reflecting on every single memory

especially the one where she finally remembered that he scared her that one day Freshman year

"That was yOU??????"

and Rocky realizes that his world is no longer as bright

they continue to message each other

but it teeters out after a few months bc (Y/N)'s working two jobs to pay off her debt

soon Rocky has lost all contact with his former best friend, although he never forgets her

Fast forward a few more years

Now Rocky's graduated with a Bachelors' in the Performing Arts

He just auditioned for a role in Newsies

It fits his skill set perfectly

Acrobatics?? Yas

He's feeling pretty confident until he steps out of the building and someone runs smack-dab into him

He's dazed for a bit but when he asks the person if they're okay, his brain goes on over drive

(Y/N)'s there staring back at him in shock, an audition packet in hand

Rocky grins and immediately encases (Y/N) in a hug, questions falling out of his mouth at a million miles an hour

All (Y/N) does is hug him back at first, but Rocky notices her hesitation so he lets go

"I'm so sorry, it's just been a long time and I've been worried? How are you?"

(Y/N) finally smiles and replies, "I'm just fine now."

the two catch up while (Y/N) waits in line for the female auditions

(Y/N) was on vacation and she overheard someone mention auditions

she had never forgotten her dream

and a small little voice told her that something good would happen there

now she knew what the good thing was

*nervous and awkward blushing from both parties*

(Y/N) was called in before she could say anything else, so Rocky waited for her outside

fifteen minutes later she comes out smiling

She has a really good feeling about it

About three hours later

(Y/ N) has to go back to her hotel so she can pack and catch her flight

Rocky is determined to never lose (Y/ N) again

Bc he realized over lunch with her that his world was bright again and he never wants that to end

So he walks her to the airport, insisting that he see her off

(Y/ N) pretends to mind, but she really doesn't

She really missed Rocky the second she got into her car Junior year

The exchange of cell phone numbers happens once again at the terminal

It takes Rocky a couple of minutes more to enter his new number into (Y/N)'s phone

When (Y/N) looks at his contact, she blushes

it reads: Minhyukkie 😘

it doesn't seem special, but it is bc Rocky was insistent that only his girlfriend could call him that

(Y/N) makes a mental note to ask him about it the next time she sees him

fast forward one last time to the phone call

(Y/N) and Rocky were both super excited when Rocky picked up his phone

They had just gotten phone calls saying that they had been accepted into the production

Their first reaction was to call each other

In fact Rocky was just about to hit the call button when (Y/ N)'s contact popped up

The first five minutes was just screaming tbh

Eventually proper congratulations were exchanged

But it got lost in all the excitement

They would see each other for the rest of their Newsies career

And that was possibly the best thing ever

#unfortunately this isn't very accurate to real life #I was already too far in when the info was released #Any way I hope you had fun at camp Riley!#remember the anon with a lot of questions?#yeah that was me #Bullet scenario #Rocky scenario #Astro Scenario #almost my brainchild #Rewrite (para)

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w0lfbr0thers · 7 years

Text

its a date - evak drabble

note: this is a uni drabble that no one asked for where isak and even live across from each other and even has a movie blaring at 3 am and isak cant sleep - you’re welcome

+2.5K+ Words +Ch. 1/1

Isak wasn't one for sleeping very well on a school night - and now that he's started uni, it hasn't exactly smoothed itself a perfect path. Of course he had his sleep meds, but did they ever work? No. So Isak gave up on the idea of sleeping pills a long ass time ago and just tried to cope with draping his duvet over his head and screwing his eyes shut until he had to wake for his first lecture three or four hours later. A natural pattern, of course, and his roommates tried to help out as much as they could with melatonin supplements or different types of herbal teas but nothing worked. Plus, uni wasn't so welcoming with all these loud ass parties happening somewhere around campus and Isak was dying to go but this wasn't high school - he had to keep his priorities straight.

One night in particular is what set him into this whirlwind of sleeping but yet not sleeping, kind of in a daze but all because of a some cute boy but it wasn't in the way he ever would want to meet any cute boy - ever. He had a big physics test coming up and he had been lying in bed ever since he got home from his last lecture but just at the stroke of midnight, he heard blaring coming from somewhere on his level of dorms. He groaned, rolling his eyes and he tried to drown it out but it was some weird, Shakespearean shit and all Isak could gather was 'this person has to be a fucking poetry fanatic'. It went on for a while, and it seemed to increase in volume every time Isak would shut his eyes which was completely agony.

'This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.'

Isak rolled his eyes as how grossly worded this movie was, and just as it hit 3 am, Isak couldn't take it. He pulled on sweats and a hoodie, stormed across the flat and he threw open the door, heading into the halls that were still brightly lit and he limited down the rooms one by one by how loud the movie was and he finally figured out it was the one right across from his own. He groaned, stepping up to the door and banged his fist on the wooden frame, his jaw clenched as he waited for the culprit to open his damn door and give him an explanation. He raises his fist one more time to knock, but just before his hand hit the door it swung open and there stood the most beautiful, outstanding boy Isak had ever laid eyes on. He coughed nervously, dropping his hand as his heartbeat began strumming annoying fast as the boy raises an eyebrow, a questioning look on his face.

"Can I help you?" The boy asked and Isak almost melted at how smooth his voice was and how it sounded like a song as it filled his ears. Isak was annoyingly mesmerized and he crossed his arms, managing to keep a straight and agitated face as he looked up at the boy who seemed only a few years older than him.

"Yeah, could you maybe turn down your movie volume? It's like, three am, pal. People need their sleep," Isak mumbles, his eyebrows knitting together.

Surprisingly, the boy grins, tilting his head to the side in the cutest way and Isak just can't ignore it, "Oh, sorry. I have a theatre class and I have to watch Romeo and Juliet as an assignment. I didn't realize it was loud."

"How could you not realize how loud it was?" Isak scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. "Why so fucking late to watch a damn movie when there's a book?"

The boy shrugs, "I've seen this movie probably a dozen times but I just enjoy it. The beautiful words - the story line - the tragic ending. It's beautiful. And, it's not really a book." He chuckles. "It's more of a collection of sonnets."

"A collection of what?" Isak asks, utterly confused.

"It's nothing. But, hey, you should join me to watch it sometime?" He offers, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips and Isak catches himself blushing as he looks down at his feet.

"Um. Maybe- I don't- maybe. Sounds nice and all, but I don't think I'm a big guy on- what did you call them? Sonnets. I'm more of a science guy."

"Makes sense, regarding your 'NASA' sweatshirt," the boy chuckles, the sound causing Isak to feel a fluttering sensation in his stomach.

"When's your last lecture today?" Isak asks quickly, a surge of confidence flowing through him as he stares at the cute boy who's standing in the door frame.

"16.35. You?"

"16.00," Isak allows himself a smile. "Meet me at kaffebrenneriet after and then we can head back here for the movie with coffee?"

"Sounds like a great plan," the boy says, extending a hand that Isak is more than willing to take into his own and shake it. "I'm Even."

"Isak."

"Isak, hm. Lovely name," Even comments and Isak feels his heart skip a few beats.

"Till tomorrow?"

Even nods, "Till tomorrow."

"Goodnight, just remember to keep the movie volume down?" Isak pokes one last time, turning to walk back to his own flat and just before he shuts the door behind him, he hears;

"Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow."

Isak allows himself a bittersweet smile as he closes his flat door, shuffling his way back into his bed and his body allows him a few extra special hours of sleep.

Isak flies through his physics test in a breeze, collecting a solid six on it which fills him with more happiness then what he was filled with when he woke up almost fully rested this morning due to the early morning events. He was about to go on an almost-date with the cutest guy he was sure was way out of his league but Isak was so willing to give it a try. As he said, he finished at 16.00 and pulled on his jacket, filled his school bag with his essentials he would need for his late night homework session, and headed to the coffee shop he and Even had agreed to meet at. He sat at a small table by the window, constantly looking up and down the street and was badgering by countless waitresses asking if he needed anything but he brushed him to the side, excusing that he was 'waiting for a friend' and the girls seemed to dwindle as the extra 35 minutes passed.

Finally, Isak's heart surges as he seems the familiar figure of the cute boy make his way down the street, and he instantly catches Isak's gaze and gives a wink as he passes the window, walking into the sweet and warm coffee shop, eagerly joining Isak at the table his eyes bright.

"You finally arrived, I began to worry you were going to ditch me," Isak pipes up, grinning as Even laughs and it's so warm that Isak's heart melts.

"I'm not that type of guy, no need to worry about that. Especially if I'm meeting up with a cute boy," Even grins. "Shall we get our coffee and head back to the dorms?"

Isak gives a small nod, getting up from the table and Even follows the notion, following him up to the counter where they both order a hot chocolate and head out into the bitter cold of November, the warm colors of fall surrounding them as they head back to the campus. They receive a few hellos and waves as they head up the stairs to the third floor of dorms and finally they made it to their section of the hallway. Even grinned, unlocking his flat door and they both entered, not speaking a word. They slipped off their shows in the small hallway and Isak followed Even through the rooms and they appeared to be alone which sent Isak into a panic - but in some sort of good way.

Even gestured to where they could lay their things, which was merely a chair but Isak didn't seem to mind. They shuffled through the flat and finally, Even opened the door to what Isak saw as some sort of paradise. He walked in, and was instantly welcomed with drawings plastering the walls and vinyl albums stacked all over, and a small acoustic guitar in the corner by the bed. Isak was in awe as he took in the surroundings and how just by Even's room how much it told him about him. Even watched him, his arms folded, as Isak made his way to the closet doors where dozens of drawings were taped askew across the doors.

"Did you draw these?" Isak asks after a while, unable to pull his eyes away from the magnificent artwork.

Even chuckles, walking further into the room, "I did. Do you like them?"

"They're amazing, wow," Isak admits, biting his lower lip. "You're a good artist."

"Tusen takk. I don't let many people see my drawings due to how personal they are to me, but-" Even shrugs, "-it's chill."

"Why are you letting me gawk at them, then?" Isak suddenly feels embarrassed as he turns to Even who is now setting up the movie on his TV.

"Because it's just you," Even shrugs. "I don't find you dangerous or anything. I find you sweet."

Isak's lips twitch up into a smile as he walks over to Even bed, "So, what should I expect with this movie?"

"Well, it is a tragedy so there might be some crying," Even tells him, smiling as he looks up at Isak's jumbled expression. "And it's the Leo DiCaprio version, which is the most beautiful."

"I doubt this movie will make me cry, but I guess we'll just have to see - and it's just Leonardo DiCaprio. Nothing special."

Even guffaws, "Leonardo DiCaprio is a man of artwork. And see we shall."

They situate themselves on Even's bed, and Isak being the shy boy he is leaves just a big of elbow space between them but he's aching to lean into Even and watch the movie while Even runs his hands through his hair and- no. Isak barely knows the guy, but he already seems half in love with him but then again he never gets the chance to see a cute boy and it's strange how he has never seen him around campus.

Isak gets drawn into the movie carefully, and Even can't help but glance at him from time to time to just see the lights from the TV dance in his beautiful, emerald green eyes and Even would give anything to just gaze into them for hours on end. The movie drones on, and Even barely pays attention to it and Isak can admit that even he stole a glance or two in Even's direction. Isak catches himself more into the movie than he thought and soon the ending credits are rolling and he finds himself turning tense as he feels Even's skin on his own, wiping away the warm tears that signify that he has been crying. Isak swallows, turning his head slowly in Even's hand to face him and he finds a soft, warm smile greeting him.

"Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes; being vex’d a sea nourish’d with lovers’ tears," is all Even says and Isak is speechless as Even wipes away his stray tears and he blinks once. Twice. No, this isn't a dream. This is all real life and Isak can't believe it. Even removes his hand, dropping it in his lap and Isak yearns for his touch to return.

"I can't believe this movie made me cry," Isak sighs and his voice his quiet, low like a whisper.

"Was it too loud for you?" Even jokes and Isak can't help but roll his eyes but in a fond-like way.

"No, it was fine," Isak sniffles. "The movie was perfect."

Isak raises up a hand to his cheek, wiping away a few more tears and Even speaks again, quoting the tragedy one more time in a quiet, soft voice, "See how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!"

Isak doesn't say a word as he eases his hand away from his face, bringing it to Even's and his touch lingers for a few minutes before grasping his hand, enveloping it in both his hands as he brings it up to his cheek, placing Even's hand against his skin which sends rippling waves of shock through him and his skin is burning as Isak locks his eyes with Even's and he sees just how deep and blue they are and it puts Isak in what seems like a trance.

"I'm really glad that I got up the courage to ask you to turn down your movie," Isak says after a few short moments of silence.

"Why not?" Even asks, a smile playing his lips as he runs his thumb against the soft skin of Isak's cheek and he tucks a small strand of curly, blonde hair behind his ear.

"Because it led me to such a beautiful, soft spoken and sweet guy who has a soft spot for cheesy romance movies," Isak laughs softly, leaning into Even's touch just a bit more.

"Cheesy? Hva? No fucking way, romantic movies are the best. Some of them could use some work, yeah, but Baz Luhrmann makes the best romantic movies," Even pouts and Isak just raises an eyebrow, licking his lips.

"Baz Luhrmann, really?"

"Yes, really! Romeo and Juliet isn't his only masterpiece."

"How many other 'masterpieces' does he have?" Isak asks, allowing himself to move a bit closer to Even.

"Tell you what, let's make all those other movies a date," Even winks, giving Isak a smug look.

"A date? Seriously? You want to watch more movies with me?"

Even shrugs, "Why not?"

Isak bites his lip, considering the offer and he swears that Even can hear how loud his heartbeat is, "Sure. It's a date."

"Ah, finally! I succeeded."

"Succeeded? Succeeded in what?"

"Getting a date with cute curly boy," Even beams, reaching up his other hand to place on Isak's other cheek so he knows holds his face in his hands. "A dream come true."

"Since when did you set this goal?" Isak asks nervously, a bubbly feeling rising in his stomach.

"Since the first day I saw you at orientation," Even winks, letting his hands drop from Isak's face.

Isak feels his cheeks heat up and he finds himself looking down at his lap, a smile tugging at his lips, "Seriously?"

"Absolutely."

"Then it is, 100%, a date."

"Coffee tomorrow and we can get started on the movie dates?" Even offers as Isak rises from the bed, readying himself to head back to his own flat.

"Of course," Isak smiles, grabbing his jacket.

"Perfect."

#my work #my writing #skam #skam writing #skam fic #skam drabble #evak #evak writing #evak fic #evak drabble #isak x even #isak valtersen #even bech næsheim #romeo + juliet #i wrote this at like 3 am this morning so there is probably a lot of mistakes #oh well #just let me know!!#honkettes

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 7 years

Text

Here Comes Your Man

Prompt: @imamotherfuckingstar-lord‘s song challenge - my song was ‘Here Comes Your Man’ by the Pixies. My character was Jim Kirk. I had SO much fun writing this. And listening to the Pixies. Word Count: 2111 Author’s Note: Oh Jim. You do make a girl’s heart go pitty-pat. I used the song lyrics as the section dividers - I think it kind of works thematically. You’ll have to believe me that I let the song lead the fic ;)

Outside there's a box car waiting, Outside the family stew

The wind rushed through your ears as you flew down the highway on the old PX70, headed away toward the shipyard. You were determined to make the shuttle leaving for the academy, hell or high water. You smoothed down your hair as you dismounted from the bike, and stowed your keys in your pocket. The security guy at the perimeter raised an eyebrow at you.

“Last person came gunning in here like that left me his keys,” he winked. You rolled your eyes.

“That’s an antique. Probably worth more than the shuttle. I’m not giving it to you. My dad’ll be by to pick it up this afternoon,” you shot back, skipping a stair as you bounded onto the shuttle. Once you were buckled in, you closed your eyes and relaxed.

Out by the fire breathing, Outside we wait 'til face turns blue

Jim Kirk. You remembered him, vaguely, from high school. He was that misunderstood genius delinquent that all the girls loved to get caught under the bleachers with. You’d fancied yourself interested at one point, but you’d never once caught his eye, and finally gave up, moving on to non-genius delinquents who were probably not as fun, but easily as much trouble. And really, two genius delinquents in one relationship was probably one too many anyhow.

After high school, you’d headed to university for engineering, and discovered your aptitude for mechanics. It had led to your hire at a shop that restored and updated old cars and motorcycles. When Christopher Pike had brought in an old motorcycle for a retrofit, he’d seen the way you worked and started the recruitment speech. He even went as far as to look you up, and throw your aptitude scoring back at you.

Which was how you wound up sitting behind Jim Kirk in a lecture of xenoanthropology in a command track class. All those repressed feelings from high school bubbled to the surface when you saw the line of his jaw, flexed with concentration. When the prof called on you to answer a complicated question about the Prime Directive, he turned and you saw a flash of recognition in those blue eyes. You smirked, somewhat lopsidedly, and winked at him before he turned back to his seat. You weren’t sure, but you thought his ears might be a bit redder.

I know the nervous walking, I know the dirty beard hangs

It wasn’t until hand-to-hand that you came face-to-face with him. He smiled and took in your stance, a lazy shrug of indifferent confidence sliding across his body like a sweater. He took you down easily, without a word, and winked before he pulled you to your feet.

“Again, or is once enough?” He asked. You raised your eyebrow and got back into ready stance, having already learned plenty from the quick takedown. You grappled for a few minutes, both of you grunting and sweating until his superior strength and size finally defeated you.

“Good,” you managed. He released you, and you felt your body relax beside him.

“We should catch up, Y/N, it’s been a few years.” He offered a hand to pull you to your feet. You weren’t sure if you felt breathless because of the fight or because he was asking to see you, but you nodded dumbly.

“Sure. Comm me,” you agreed.

Out by the box car waiting, Take me away to nowhere plains

He’d been hooking up with an Orion girl, which might have explained why he’d never had time to follow up on the offer to catch up. Who’d want to catch up with a human who wasn’t a sure thing if you already had an Orion waiting in the wings? That said, he’d sat beside you in xenoanthropology during your next class. He’d slipped in late, and saw the empty seat beside you, near the aisle. It wasn’t deliberate, as far as you could tell. You always sat near the doors, and always put your bag in the seat beside you to discourage people from sitting with you, as you hated the way the seats pinned you in so close to one another.

The first time it happened, you’d assumed it was because it was the first seat he saw. But as the weeks progressed, you realized he was deliberately choosing to sit with you, deliberately leaning into you to read over your shoulder at the notes you were taking, deliberately seeking you out in both the lecture theatre and lab. It was, at the same time, both comforting and unsettling. Comforting to have someone you knew beside you in class. Unsettling because all those feelings from high school just kept intensifying every time he would wink as he corrected something in your notes, or clap you on the back after good exam results were posted.

“Can you help me with the Kobayashi Maru?” The question came out of nowhere as you left class one afternoon.

“How?” Your brow furrowed.

“I need a crew. I’d like you to be the weapons tech,” he explained. You bit your lip as you thought. If you were going to put money on anyone passing the damned test, it would be Jim Kirk. It would be cool to witness it.

“Okay,” you shrugged. Little did you know what you were in for.

There is a wait so long, You'll never wait so long

“You must be Y/N from home.” A lanky, handsome man smiled at you. “Jim talks about you a lot. I’m Leonard McCoy.” He offered his hand.

You smiled and wracked your brain. “Bones?” You considered, not realizing you’d said it out loud. The man smiled.

“In the flesh,” he laughed weakly at his joke. You grinned. Jim talked about the man constantly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Leonard,” you offered. “I see you’ve been roped into this as well?” He nodded and found his position on the simulated bridge. And just like you expected, pretty soon it went to shit.

Big shake on the box car moving, Big shake to the land that's falling down

You’d been stunned when he was accused of cheating the test a few weeks later. But your surprise turned into anticipation as cadets were mustered to various ships to go investigate the reported attack on Vulcan. You were astonished to be assigned to the Enterprise. You’d wanted to be assigned to her, eventually. You just never dreamed it would happen for the maiden voyage of the ship. While you were still a student. As you boarded the shuttle bound for the ship, you were surprised to see Bones wrestling a very sick looking Jim aboard. He plopped down in the seats beside you and you leaned close.

“What the hell are you thinking? He’s grounded!” You hissed.

“He’s sick, Y/N. Eyes forward.” Leonard’s voice was strained but even. You raised an eyebrow.

“Bullshit.” But you didn’t press for more information.

Is a wind makes a palm stop blowing, A big, big stone fall and break my crown

“Attention crew of the Enterprise, this is James Kirk. Mister Spock has resigned commission and advanced me to Acting Captain. I know you were all expecting to regroup with fleet, but I'm ordering a pursuit course of the enemy ship to Earth. I want all departments at battle stations and ready in ten minutes.” The announcement echoed in your head and you looked up at the speaker in surprise before going back to the repairs you’d been pulled to engineering to take charge of.

There is a wait so long, You'll never wait so long

It was over before you’d had a chance to even get halfway through the extensive repairs you’d started, and it almost felt like you were back on the ground sooner than that. The flurry of exams and interviews and debriefings the Starfleet Academy administration and deans went through to get the third and fourth year students ready for their commissions was enough to set your head spinning, and you found yourself studying late with Jim often, as you struggled to keep on top of the knowledge you were required to spit back during oral exams that replaced the written ones. Jim pulled from your shared childhood to remind you that were every bit as clever as he was, and pushed you to your continued success. There was no way, he said, that he was going back into space without the entire crew that had been on the Enterprise. And that included you.

The first time you crashed in his dorm had been completely innocent. You’d been sprawled across the bed that had belonged to his roommate before the Narada incident, and had fallen asleep, face-down against your PADD. You’d wakened in the morning to the scent of fresh coffee and noticed he’d draped his favourite blanket over you in the night.

It hadn’t felt awkward or strange, and so when it continued to happen, you weren’t fussed. It didn’t even bother you that Jim had retrieved your toothbrush from your room one night while you slept. You didn’t notice the whispered voices in the cafeteria, until Bones pointed it out.

“There’s a whole table of girls over there running a pool on exactly which disease Jim is going to give you, Y/N,” he announced as he sat on the bench beside you. Jim choked on his coffee. “My money's on Gangorian Clap.” Jim glared and put down his coffee cup.

“Too common,” you countered around a mouthful of eggs. “I’d rather an old fashioned, cured in the 2060s case of chlamydia.” Jim choked again and Bones started laughing.

“Syphilis too old school, is it?” Bones asked, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“Excuse me, I’m right here,” Jim interrupted. You winked at him and went back to your breakfast. “People think we’re sleeping together?”

“She hardly leaves your room except for classes,” Bones countered. “Of course they do.” Jim looked at you thoughtfully and fell silent. You would have completely forgotten the incident, but Jim started acting strangely over the next few days, until finally you felt the need to confront him.

“What’s the issue?” You asked. He looked up from the other side of the room, startled. “Why are you being weird? You’ve been weird since Bones told you people thought we were hooking up.”

“But we aren’t,” Jim commented. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“We could both be doing considerably worse,” you shrugged. “So not really.”

Here comes your man

The first time you slept with Jim was after what felt like a disastrous chemistry exam. He found you sobbing in his room - your room, really, most of your things had made their way over soon after your toothbrush had. He pulled you into his arms, kissing the top of your head and murmuring soothing sounds. You melted into the warmth, letting him soothe you until your tears dried. When you looked up to thank him, something flashed across his eyes and he stopped, and took a deep breath before dipping his head and brushing his lips against yours.

Every inch of his body was warm, and solid, and felt so good against yours that you were surprised it had taken so long for you both to succumb to the pull that was there. The chemistry exam was forgotten in a tangle of sweaty sheets and the inarticulate sounds of body against body culminating in a climax that made you whisper one another’s names in prayer.

The delicious ache deep in your muscles woke you. Jim’s weight, pinning you to the mattress, reminded you of the previous night’s activities. You stretched against him, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. He pulled you closer, murmuring your name in his drowsy not-quite-awake voice, “Stay, Y/N.”

“I’ve gotta pee. I’ll come back.” You pushed against him again and he let you up. When you returned from the bathroom, he’d untangled the sheets, and fluffed your pillow.

“Took you long enough,” he winked. You furrowed your brow in confusion as you slipped back into bed beside him.

“I wasn’t that long in -”

“I meant last night. Ten years?” You could tell he was counting back in his head to when you’d first met in high school.

“Twelve,” you corrected. “You never saw me then.”

“I saw you. I just knew this would happen,” he explained. You shot him another confused look.

“You’re no stranger to a romp in the sheets, James Kirk,” you laughed. His cheeks turned pink, which you found wildly amusing.

“You aren’t just a romp in the sheets, Y/N. You’re the kind of woman a man likes to wake up to,” he admitted. “I’ve never done that before.”

“You’ve been waking up to me since the Narada,” you countered, slowly beginning to understand what he was saying.

“Waking up to a roommate is a little different than waking up to a lover,” he stumbled. You felt your cheeks flush.

“You’ve never stayed the night with a woman before?” You blurted it out before you realized exactly how invasive a question it was. He shook his head.

“No. But with you,” he paused. “I could get used to it.”

#ivonne's song challenge #star trek imagine #imagine star trek #jim kirk x reader #james t. kirk x reader

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punk-in-docs · 7 years

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You Were Always Mine, Chapter 13

AU Tom Hiddleston - Romantic, Historical Romance, Victorian Fic.  Based off the imagine; ‘Thomas spying on you after your divorce and doing anything to get you back. Including threatening your new beau.’ credits go to the lovely ladies at Tom-Hiddleston-Imagine.Tumblr.com. Link to the imagine here…. http://tom-hiddleston-imagines.tumblr.com/post/158156795440/gif-lokihiddleston-imagine-thomas-spying-on-you  Chapter number: Chapter 13 Author: Punk-in-docs Triggers/warnings: Angst. Abuse. Torture. Violence. Drugging. Henry’s a bastard.

However eerie the empty lecture hall was, even in the passing shadow of a dark, cloudy afternoon, it was doubly eerie at night. The empty, pine panelled halls echoed on for what felt like days. And when her workspace was lit only by the company of three oil lamps, it made her realise just how perilous the place seemed. In the flickering lowlight, she sits at her desk, opposite Dr. Harridens, going through today’s medical lecture notes. But as she heard the carriage clock on the mantel chime 1 in the morning. She takes off her spectacles and rubs her strained eyes.

She sighs. Thinking it was most probably adequate to take a break. The words on the paper now wriggled, squirmed and writhed like inky black worms on the journal pages. Her eyes were raw and tired, and her brain now rather runneth over with all the medical expertise she was cramming into her head. Ticking over with the prognosis for scrofula, recognising rheumatic fever that came along with with the diagnosis of scarlet fever, the ratio of carbolic rinse to dress wounds according to whether it was an abrasion or a laceration. She’d be lucky not to recite anatomy textbooks in her sleep. She shuts the book. Closing her eyes and rubbing her sore neck.

She leant back into the cradle of her creaking chair. The aches of being hunched over her desk flaring through her body. Squinting at the pages in the dim half light now taking it’s toll. She had relaxed her dress to the point of informality. Her white blouse was unbuttoned, just the top button. And she had rolled it up to her elbows, and loosened her russet coloured tie. Her heavy grey skirts were a thick wool, but even through the layers, in her black buttoned boots, her feet and legs are still cold. Freezing from the drafty floorboards under her feet.

She stands. Sighing, crossing over to her tiny female spec of vanity that she allowed herself to enjoy. A small, gilded mirror hung to the wall, near the fireplace. Over by the glass vase of crimson roses. Also her little indulgence. If Harriden could display his ugly, but scientific, jars of skulls, and various bones, housed in domes. Then she had told him he could atleast humour her a bunch of roses, as her something pretty to look at. He’d laughed so at that.

She gets to the mirror. Tutting at herself when she saw her reflection. She had a smudge of ink on her cheek, which she wiped away with the back of her hand. Her scalp was starting to ache with the tautness of her strict chignon. She withdrew the bite of her silver hair clip, and removed several pins slotted into her thick red hair. It tumbled down her back, and she sighed a moan with the release of it. The curls tumbled down to her shoulders. Not wanting to let all of it completely wild, she tames half of it back into a half up, half down arrangement. Scrutinising herself in the mirror. The pale skin that made her dark under eyes stand out starkly.

She takes one last survey of her tired face, before she walks across to the oil lamp over on the doctors desk. She dims it right down so it extinguishes. Back on her own desk, she reaches over and stacks up all the journals and text books she has to remember to take home with her, for more studying, and the medical-

A loud groan of a whining floorboard interrupted her internal reverie. It echoed across the dark lecture hall, rippling across the high, glass ceiling. That whine she knew. It was the familiar shriek of when someone opened the door, high up above, in the theatre.

She turned her head, her hands slowly putting her books back down as she looked up through the dark space. Unable to see anyone stood in the doorway in the darkness, her blood chills a little. She swallows in trepidation. Uneasiness ebbing in. Like the passing tide of a cool shadow washing over her on a sunny day. It makes the hair on the back of her neck prickle, standing up sharp.

“Hello? Is someone there?” She asks. The silence deafening, blaring back at her as a response. She almost didn’t recognise her pitchy voice when she spoke. It made her chest go tight, hearing the apprehension, and tumult she could recognise in her own voice.

Scanning round the room. She steps out into the rounded semicircle of the ‘anatomy pit’ as Harriden put it. The stage area where the rectangular cadaver slab stood. She glances over the seats. Her blood pricking when a masculine. disembodied, strident voice bellows out confidently. It’s speaker hidden in the shadows provided by the edge of the room.

“It’s Vianne James. Ain’t it?” Came the exclaim. The tones of confidence, twined with an unhealthy sounding curiosity in such a voice, makes her go rigid.

She doesn’t need to strain her eyes any longer, for the mystery speaker roams forth from his hiding place. He’d been here. The other day. Though she didn’t know it. He was just another face amongst the many. Sat in the audience. Amongst the students, the doctors and all others who attended the lecture. He wore a bowler hat, and dark, inconspicuous clothing. He was a man no one ever looked twice at. And that made his life a veritable stroll in the park.

He was too far away for her to make out the finer details of his facial features. But he was smiling. And it wasn’t a smile that looked genteel in it’s presentation. That smile scared her.

“Can I… Help you?” She asks with a frown. He smiles wider. Moving closer. His hands stuffed leisurely in his pockets. He walked along the back row of seats, coming to the stairs in the middle. Directly up above her, gazing down at her. His lack of an answer and continuing leer make her shrink back into the study doorway. Trying to make herself look as small and unappealing as was possible.

After she speaks. She realises how absurd her statement sounds. It was the small hours, and this man was cornering her in the dark, empty lecture theatre. And her etiquette is so heavily infused into the very marrow of her bones that, she asks the dangerous man, whom she was alone in a room with, if she can help him in any way… If she wasn’t so terrified, she’d have laughed at the illogicality of such a thing.

The door whines again. Like a third stranger shrieking in on their stark conversation. Her lips part and she pants in shaky fear when she sees two more men, pushing open the door from the other side. The both of them dressed as scruffily as the first assailant. The incoming two had the same level of dishonesty about them.

“You’re Henry St. Clair’s bird? Ain’t ya?” The first one asks. Slowly coming down the steps.

She let out an exhale of disbelief. Mixed with fear.

“No I am not…” She tells them. Shaking her head. “We.. Broke our engagement. We’re not…” She explains shakily. Swallowing in fear.

“Thing is…” The first one started, coming down the stairs. Standing still at the bottom. Moving slowly. Like a feral beast would toward it’s desired prey. Vianne clutched the doorframe behind her. Her knuckles white. Her nails dug into the wood. And her hands ached with the strain of how hard she clutched.

“That, regardless of how it stands b'tween you and him. He’s told us that we can get what’s due… He owes us. Owes us a hell of a debt. And he’s in quite a bit of trouble. He told us we could get what we wanted out of the red headed one, who works in the doctors office.” He explains.

Vianne frowned. “What does he owe you?” She asks with a furrowed brow. Henry had been find of drinking, certainly. Had that addiction to stupor extended to gambling too, now? All of it went to prove he really was no respectable gentleman. She knew that already. But she was just realising how much of a blackguard he truly was.

“A lot.” Bowler hat spoke. His eyes widening as he spoke. Still grinning. Now be was closer, just across the other side of the surgical table, she could see his yellowed teeth in his sneer, the big, rubbery lips that made up his menacing leer. His eyes were dark, and he had broad, stubby features. His eyes shone unnaturally bright though. Consumed with gleaming intimidation.

Now he was nearer, she could definitely make out his clothes. The swathing dark coat. Scuffed but expensive shoes, a tweed waistcoat and trousers getup, exorbitant clothing, that told her he was well paid. She didn’t even want to think or know about the minutia of his profession.

She shuffled back, as he took another step. His eyes wickedly devoured her. Relishing in the diagnosis of her fear.

“Why are you here? All of you, What do you want from me?” She asked tersely, her anger simmering. Her breathing ragged now. The two others, moved down the stairs behind him. Their stances just as intimidating as that of their associate.

“Payment.” Came the sneer from the first one. She whimpered, and then she acted.

She tore round the doorframe, throwing the door shut, he slammed into it, and she scrambled across the office, hearing the glass break. And his grunts as he rammed the door open to get her.

Her mind was stretched thin, jolting and scrabbling, trying to think what she could do. Reminding her this was terribly, horribly, real. Her scatterbrained mind, in the face of panic, remembered the surgical scalpels stored in her bag. She was on her knees now, breathing fast and heavy. Her hands struggling to reach it. Her fingers find the corner, and she tips it over, hearing it clatter and clang as the contents bashed together. Frenzied, she digs through with her bare hands looking for it. Her knees digging into the shards of broken glass from the door. She feels the hot pain and searing warmth that told her some shards had bitten into her skin, shredding her knees, drawing blood.

But she ignores it. She has to try and fight, fight to protect herself. It wasn’t as if it was a foreign notion to her. So far, she’d spent half her life doing so. She was no stranger to it.

With shaking, fumbling fingers, she managed to clutch the cold metal of the handle. But her assailant has other plans. She feels his thick fingers grab a fistful of her hair. She yells as it burns and sears agony through her scalp. He pulls her back, dragging her away from the overturned bag. She tried. She claws at the floor with her bare hands. Her fingernails scraping into the dirty wood.

That was before she felt a burst of dizzy blackness thud into the side of her head. She collapses to the floor, feeling the cold, daggering, jagged splinters of glass skitter under her bare hands, she felt sick, her head plucked apart by the agony that let’s her know he’d hit across the back of her head with something heavy, and blunt. Her whole mind drifts. She feels her breath leave her, and her head slumps to the floor. She tries to reach up to touch her tender head. Her eyes screwed shut.

Through her blurry eyesight she can see him look over her, someone behind, hands him a bottle. And he produces a rag from within the confines of his pocket. She tries to get away, groaning, writhing out of his grip. But she can’t. He shoves her shoulder back, pinning her down, and presses the cloth to cover her nose and mouth.

Her cries are muffled into the cloth that his hand forces down over her face. She tries to clutch at his arm. But she’s too weak. He bats her hands away. And the panic flares anew when she smells the familiar, sweet, cloying anaesthetic on the rag. It was strong. Strong enough to tell her it was a pure solution. A pure solution of Chloroform.

Her eyes go wide with fear, brimming with tears. But after two or three laboured breaths. Her eyes slowly blink, and then slide shut, her breathing grows shallower, and shallower. And all her fighting resolve is slowly, drained away and then it's gone.

She opens her eyes again, meeting the murky half light of the glass ceiling, high above her. She couldn’t see the stars up above in the heavens. There was too much smog clouding up the sky. And when everything comes flooding back, she frowned and moans.

The pain in her head made her damn sure it had been split in two, and her consciousness feels heavy. Still like it was suffocated under the heady intoxication of being drugged. She whines, trying to move her head, but when she tries to move her arms and legs, she wriggled harder as she found they were bound. She didn’t know why. But she soon found out.

She summoned her strength, and when she properly looked around, she saw her legs, and her arms were bound. And she was tied, tight, to the cadaver table.

“She’s awake, ‘Arry.” Came a gruff voice, she turned her aching head and saw one of them. Sat in the front row, watching over her with cruel eyes and a horrible smile.

She turned her head, and suddenly her breath came in starts as the bowler hat one strode over. He stalked right across to her, fisted his hand into her hair again, yanking tight. Causing her more undue pain. She keeps her eyes on his hand when she sees him hold a scalpel, that flashes a darting silver gleam in the half light, and when he presses the blade to her throat. She whimpers.

“Now…” He breathes calmly. “We’re gonna get they payment outta ya. One way. Or the other. And trust me sweetheart. None of 'em are pretty.” He pledges to her. Whispering harshly into her ear.

“I-I haven’t. I can’t…. Give you anything. I haven’t got much money…” She fibs. Resolutely hoping it would be enough. Trying to bargain with the madman who was currently pressing the sharpest medical tool available, to her throat.

“Your lyin’ darlin.’ I wouldn’t do that if I was you. We know how wealthy he is. And if he can’t see it in his interest to give us our money. Then we take it out on his lady.” He snarls down to her. His face was close to hers. Close enough for her to feel his hot breath on her skin. He smelled of ale, body odour, and stale smoke.

“Henry doesn’t care about me! We broke our engagement. We’re estranged. I’m not his lady!” She cries loudly in protest.

He sneers. And laughs. And a couple of the others chuckle too. “D'you hear that lads? She said St. Clair…” He asks cruelly. Where he’d straightened up, he grabbed her hair again and got close to speak to her. She winces again.

“I didn’t mean St. Clair. Darlin’ I meant that rich inventor who seems to have snagged ya. You see, Henry had you watched, he did. sweetheart, watched like an 'awk. He had you followed, even after he finished with ya. It seems that Sharpe bloke thinks the bloomin’ world o’ you. And he’d do any thin’ to protect you from being 'urt. And word is, that he’s rich as Croesus…”

Vianne felt rage and disgust overtake her body. Flooding from the pit of her stomach.

“St. Clair’s very certain that we could get money out of 'im…” He explains.

“Henry told you Thomas would pay up if you you tried to… Hurt me?” She asked. Needing the clarification. She gasps as he pressed the blade deeper.

“Oh. Clever girl you are? Ain’t ya?” He snarls, smiling, his lips tilting to her cheek. She tried hard to jerk her head away from his foul breath and lustful insinuation.

“Beautiful too. Such pale skin. I can see why Sharpes got you installed in his bed….” He flatters. His tone making her stomach curl up in dread.

“Damn Pity, that….” He finalises. Throwing her head away, and removing the scalpel. She breathed uneasily. Hearing his footsteps quieten as he went back into the office. She twisted round to see, watching as he crossed to the now roaring fireplace, and poked something to spear deep into the flames.

“I must say. It does hurt me to know I’ll be ruining such a pretty face. Sharpe definitely won’t be interested in you after were finished with ya’. St. Chair told us that’s no less than you deserve… Letting that ruinous wastrel in your boudoir.” Bowler hat spoke, walking back to Vianne. The long, black poker he held in his hand. And the tip was glowing. Red hot.

She squirmed anew at that. But even she knows her bonds are too tight to escape from.

He stepped closer. Slowly. Savouring the sight of her struggling. What kind of monsters were these men? Happily torturing her under Henry’s insistence that Thomas was her protector. The effrontery of her ex-fiancé to exclaim that Thomas would lay down money to them, if they ransomed her safety…She began to think there were no good men in the world, with honest intentions. Every man had some degree of monster, prowling deep within. Always lurking. Like an ugly, beast in captivity.

She couldn’t help her fear. They wanted to hurt her. And she couldn’t fight them. Thomas didn’t know where she was and what was happening to her now… That thought scares her most of all.

“He. He…doesn’t….Know I’m. He can’t give you anything if he doesn’t know you want to hurt me in exchange for money.” She bargains. Whimpering and panting with dread as he raised the poker and set it near her exposed arm, that was bound with rope, atop the table.

“Ere. Give her more of that drug. 'Arry. She’s bound to be screaming soon.” The second one chuckled. Bowler hat agreed, and the second one, stood out of sight behind her, presses that sickly, nauseating cloth to her mouth again. She fought hard against it. The fact they were hurting her was pain enough. But now they wanted to hurt her without her being awake enough to struggle.

She feels the cloth pulled away. And she is groggy and sedate once more. The scent clogged in her nose and mouth. Now she was barely conscious. But still enough so to hear their voices, and only just keep her eyes open.

“Come and hold her head steady, Stan. She’s gonna wriggle… I know it…” Bowler hat sneered down at her. She shouted. She begged, and fought, she thrashed and writhed in her bonds. Hot tears fell down her cheeks.

She felt another ones grubby, meaty hands clamped about her forehead. Holding her head still, tilted back to look at the one holding the poker stood before her. She’d no idea where the third was. Probably guarding the door.

“Where should we mark you then? Vianne James?” He asks her mockingly, knowing full well she couldn’t answer. She feels a brisk touch carved over her temple. One of them, stroking her hair in a sickeningly gentle touch, as her head lolled to the side, her consciousness swaying with the drug as it paralysed her sobriety.

She opened her groggy, terrified eyes long enough to see bowler hat tilt her chin all the way to the right, facing away from him. She sobs still, mumbling faint pleas for him not to mark her. Tears squeezed from her eyes all the more fluidly now. She could feel the steam, and white hot heat nearing her skin. It takes all her power to try and edge away. Her tired eyes take in, as wide as was possible with terror, in seeing bowler hats sneer as he was not millimetres away from burning her.

The door slamming open high above in the theatre gathers all their attention. Her two assailants look upwards, seeing the third knocked down the stairs, tumbling to a crumpled pile at the bottom of the steps. Landing on the floorboards, and staying there. His middle marred by a deep cut that was fatal.

Vianne didn’t see any of it. Her mind no more than a hazy whirl. She hears commotion, clattering. Fist on flesh, the male screams and grunting of physical, violent, interaction. She drifts in and out, not so groggy as to not feel the searing pain that suddenly flares through her arm, she writhes and cries, opening her blurry eyes to see a dark shape stood next to her. Bowler hat kept good to his promise. He had burned her after all. She could hear his voice mocking someone. The person who burst into the room. She cries aloud all the more when the burning ceases. Her bare arm in agony.

It is so potent, she realises she must have gone into shock, her pulse was rapid, and she was clammy. That tells her of the severity of her wound that her brain had otherwise lost. Or been un-privy too in it’s drugged stupor.

She wakes again when she feels her arms and wrists rattle. Her ankles are jerked, and her shoulder is being shaken by someone. She gasps, her head drooping to one side, but her face is cupped in cool, calloused hands. Truth be told, in Inventors hands.

“Vianne? Vianne? Oh. Please… Oh, god. Please… Vianne?” Thomas pants, lovingly holding her face.

Her eyes open, hooded and with tears springing gently down her cheeks. She barely has the energy to whisper his name. She cries all the harder. Her eyes falling shut once more. Thomas looks down at the raw, weeping red burn on her left forearm. How could such a monster do such a thing to an innocent woman? He tears off his clean cravat, and wraps her fresh wound in that. It was sterile and would do until he could get her somewhere safe, and dress it properly.

He rips her bonds off, and sits her up, sliding his hands up under her shoulders, and cradling her limp form up into his arms. Enclosing his hand to the back of her head. She whimpers, in pain, hazy and afraid. The sound of such breaks his heart.

“It’s ok. I’ve got you. My love. I’ve got you. Your safe now. I promise…” He pledges. His voice breaking. He stroked her hair. Holding her tight.

He gathers her up into his arms. Ignoring the three corpses that now littered the lecture theatre. When he saw what they’d tried to do to her. He saw red. He might have killed all of them, he can’t be sure. And nor does he care.

He tucks her firmly in his hold, in a fireman’s carry. Striding with her limp body up and out the theatre, bounding up the stairs as if she didn’t weigh a thing.

He gets out into the dark halls, and he thinks as he walked where they could go that would be safe. Not back to her townhouse, they obviously knew where she lived and worked. He would not risk leaving her in defended on a hospital ward in case more of them came back. But he knows she must see a doctor about that arm. If left untreated, infection could set in. He knew that was fatal…

He pants, carrying her down the stairs, and out into the empty courtyard, into the dark night. “Thomas…” He hears her gasp. Whining his name. In pain and confusion. He stops, kissing her head, ushering soft. Calming words to her. “I’m here. My love. I’m right here…” He tells her strongly.

“Don’t let them hurt me anymore.. Please… Don’t…” She cries in a plea.

He kisses her hair. Tears now falling from his eyes. Clutching her close. Smelling her hair as he kisses her again. That pale forehead clammy. He knows he has to get her safe and seen too. Soon. And he thinks he knew just the place to take her…

@frenchfrostpudding @heavymist @totallynotasmutblog

#tom hiddleston #victorian era #historical fiction #romance #angst #seperation #sadness #drugging #violence #burns #abuse #ransom #hostage

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