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struggling-with-time · 3 years

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How to spiral out of control [Simpbur x reader]

Pairing: c!Wilbur Soot x fem!reader (Simpbur x reader)

Summary: How simpbur became simpbur. And how you grew up and lived with him.

Warnings: Obsession, unhealthy obsession, stalking, murder, drugging, unhealthy relationship, and Simpbur being a creep.

Words: 5K

Masterlist: Wilbur’s Masterlist - Full Masterlist

A/N: Listen I had brainrot. And I don't know how to defend this. (Also requests are still open! Click here!) And it's unedited for now it's 5:12 am here I will edit later today

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Wilbur was a pretty insignificant child. The death of his mother being one of the most interesting things about his childhood. While he claimed not to blame his youngest brother for the loss of his mother. He certainly had a funny way of showing his youngest brother affection.

Wilbur is the middle child of three. A charming but quiet and well accomplished older brother, who seems to never have to end to his dedication neither success. And his youngest brother, a loud ball of sunshine that just seems to make everyone in a good mood. Truly good with people, something Wilbur never seemed to grasp.

His whole childhood tainted by that fact. Always living in the shadow of his brothers, the clear favourites of everyone who came near the family of four.

So his grades was just average, never good enough to get acknowledged, never bad enough to need extra attention. Just average, like the rest of him. He grew up lanky, not athletic neither unable to run. Wilbur was grey in a family of golden people. His father raised them alone for most of Wilbur’s life. His father that despite never saying it out loud had clear favourites in his brothers. It was always, oh and Wilbur too!

Never him, never just him.

So, Wilbur spent most of his childhood lonely, disregarded and weird. A pitiful child. A pathetic child.

The thing is there was one thing, that made Wilbur worth anyone’s time. One person. You.

His childhood best friend.

Well, that’s what anyone who only knew Wilbur would say. Because you were the only friend he had. However, it was different for you, although the two of you were good friends, you wouldn’t call him your best friend for years. That didn’t happen till you became teenagers.

You had always tried your best to include the weird kid in playdates, birthday parties, and playground games. But nobody else seemed to find him worth their time, with his weird and morbid comments. But you persisted that he wasn’t that weird, besides his older brother was really cool.

So, you stick around, you stick around as playdates become hangouts, as dolls become makeup, and homework goes from learning to read to writing essays.

While you had many friends, both come and go and stay, Wilbur had been there for as long as you could remember. A playground proposal documented on home video. And a remake of it on the day of your school dance. You had played along, but it was known to everyone that your childhood friend wanted to be more than friends. But you stayed, smiled for the camera and laughed it off.

Then the school dance was over, and the last exam had been taken. That’s when you moved a country over, and slowly you lost contact with the people you used to call friends, but Wilbur stayed. Wilbur always stayed.

He finally got the spot as the best friend in your mind too. A definite win in his book.

Wilbur had always been odd, a bit to the left of normal. But now, with distance and screens in between you, he only started to act more concerning. This was around the time he started talking about feeling depressed and useless.

Of course, you always told him you didn’t believe that, what else were you supposed to say? Your friendship turning more and more into therapy sessions once a week for Wilbur on your end. While for him it was the highlight of his week.

Clicking the call button beside your profile picture, an anime girl from one he had recommended to you himself. One he had stayed up an entire night to shift through different animes to find the perfect one to send your way. One he was guaranteed you would watch.

“Wilbur, I should really get off.”

“C’mon stay on just a bit later, please.”

The silence deafening over the video call, he watches you intensely as you pull your legs into your chest, your shitty webcam standing beside you on your bed.

Wilbur reached out for the energy drink beside him, a new habit he has picked up. The more hours spent on the computer, the more he seemed to consume.

“Fine, just half an hour more. But then it’s the last half hour.”

Wilbur smiles at that, you choosing him over everything else in the world. He likes that, he likes that a lot. You valuing him. Spending time with him, and only him. Your attention is his.

“We could always fall asleep on call, then we could keep talking.”

“Another day Wilbur, another day.”

That. That sentence he on the other hand didn’t like. Not one bit. A promise never kept. A promise left unspoken and unpromised from your side, but a broken and abandoned promise on his side.

Then there was the wall incident.

Wilbur wouldn’t have told you if it weren’t for you noticing the hole in his wall. One that matched his fist quite neatly. His father had taken his PS4 in punishment for Wilbur using so much the WiFi plan to call you. At least that’s what he told you.

In reality, he had gotten into a fight with his older brother, his brother had asked about you, how you were doing, and if he could say hi during a call. There was something about the words that had irked Wilbur, something that set him off, something about him that made his brother seem dangerous to Wilbur. So, he had decked his older brother in the face. Causing a blackeye to occur.

In return, Wilbur now sported a big black and blue spot from where he hit the floor. His brother having immediately tackled him.

And to Wilbur that had confirmed his thoughts. Other guys are dangerous, he’s the only one you should rely on.

The wall had taken the brunt of his rage that night, a screaming match with his dad that ended with his little brother getting sent to his friends' house, and his PS4 getting confiscated until Wilbur had gotten a job and was able to pay back the damages.

And he did get a job, much to your surprise. But you had encouraged him throughout it all. A dead-end cashier job that only seemed to make his world staler and more bothersome than before.

A time where he searched for every distraction possible, gaming, music, you.

You were proud of him when he got the hole in his wall fixed, and even more when he kept his job. And Wilbur doesn’t remember you ever giving him more praise than the day he told you he was starting to investigate going to university.

Naturally, you helped him, and along the way, Wilbur picked up a guitar. A new asset to his den of depression that his room had become, decked in led lights, and overpriced RGB gaming stuff.

The university acceptance came rather quick, and suddenly Wilbur was packing up his life and heading to university. Boxes filled with stuff he barely remembered owning, and kitchen appliances that would never see the light of the day.

And he can feel you starting to drift, already busy with your own life. But he clings to you.

He stays, Wilbur always stays in your life. Even when you drift.

Wilbur knows it’s affecting him. It’s not hidden from anyone. The longer that goes between the two of you talking, the sourer his mood gets. The longer you don’t respond to him, the more messages he sends. The more information he craves to know.

Who are you talking to?

Who are you seeing?

Who is so much more important than him?

Hadn’t he always been there for you?

Hadn’t he always stayed?

You owe him.

Wilbur grows bitter and resentful. But not to you, never to you. But for everyone around you. His biggest joys in life now coming from the ungodly amount of caffeine he drinks, and whenever you reach out first.

This is why the day you call him asking for help is forever a day that will bring him joy.

“Hey Will, you’re really good with tech, and I was wondering if you wanted to help me start streaming.”

He chokes on the energy drink. He chokes on his words. He chokes on the air. He drowns.

His heart aching. His anger festering. His-

“Sure.”

He hears himself respond before he can even process the thought.

It takes him 2 days of absence from university, and what feels like 2 even longer nights, before he’s an expert on how to stream. He reads everything he can find, he watched everything that gets suggested.

You asked him for help, so he will help.

But Wilbur, spends these hours conflicted. You want his help, not someone else’s, someone lesser than him. Him.

But at the same time. His mind keeps wandering, isn’t he enough any longer? Isn’t he good enough for you? Why isn’t he good enough for you? Why? Why?

And thus, he learns you how to use the software, and beings alongside you. He finds comfort in knowing most of your streams whenever possible is spent with him on a call with you.

Although that happens after hours of pestering, that doesn’t matter. He gets to talk to you, while the rest is limited to a measly chat.

You seem to find yourself comfortably in the gaming category, slowly growing. Slowly rising.

Wilbur’s own streams, on the other hand, feels more like incoherent rants interrupted by his guitar plays. And once in a blue moon, you are on call with him.

It doesn’t take long before he gives up, watching you grow. Finding more comfort in watching you, instead of being the watched. Not that anyone really did watch him besides for you.

Wilbur stays out of a camera, as you only seem to grow more comfortable being in front of one.

The first time you have someone on a call with you on stream, who isn’t Wilbur. He just can’t help but break his bedside lamp. It’s a guy nonetheless. A guy from the internet. The type of guy Wilbur has never been shy to tell you horror stories about.

And this is where another bad habit of his started to emerge. He just can’t help himself. But you’re laughing with someone else. You’re smiling for someone else. You’re his. Not anyone else’s. His. His. His.

Wilbur is quick to find the donating button he had helped you set up himself. At that time it had only been used a couple of times. Nothing big. But Wilbur wants big. He wants attention. He wants you.

He fumbles with his credit card as he keys in the numbers, he’s a bit too familiarised with them. Because anything he can get from the internet will be delivered that way.

And then the notification pops up on your screen. A donation number you had never expected. And you start crying. Right there. Right on stream. And Wilbur sucks it up. He sucks it right up that you’re crying for him, whiling praising him, and only him.

The match you were playing ruined, and Wilburs smile only grows as he hears the familiar tone of discord receiving a call.

That night. You had ditched the fellow streamer to thank Wilbur and hang out with him.

Something you never thought you would regret.

But oh, how you did. How you did.

It takes Wilbur around 2 months to get used to a large sum of money means special attention to him, and only him. For everyone to see.

And he can feel you pulling away, so each time he donates, it’s bigger. Larger. Grander.

He’s never on your stream without a donation anymore. Never on call for free. But Wilbur doesn’t mind, because everyone gets to see you’re his.

And he keeps increasing the amount as you keep growing until he hits a stalemate. He’s using half of his paycheck on you, while he doesn’t mind going hungry a couple of days. His bills won’t wait for him. And he has been living away from home for far too long to ever think about calling up his father and ask for money.

Not to mention his oldest brother would never. Then neither will Wilbur. Because Wilbur is better. Better than all of them.

The larger your stream grows, the closer graduation arrives, and then Wilbur is sitting in another apartment. Another dead-end job. Another grey life.

Another dull life passing him by. Your voice constantly on loop his apartment. Constantly filling his life. As it always has. But to you, Wilbur is barely a part of your everyday. Only really showing up when a donation comes in. As you once again tell him not to spend money on you.

But he seems to stay. Wilbur always stays.

He’s the first to like anything you post on social media. Always online never off. Always lurking. Never missing. Never absent. He’s always there.

Wilbur never misses a stream; he schedules his life around yours. Even if you’re a country away.

And then one day you’re not. You’re not a country away, you’re moving back. You’re moving closer. And suddenly you live an hour away by car. Instead of an airplane ride, and shitty trains.

Suddenly Wilbur can see himself get a foot in the door. No longer grasping onto his parasitic parasocial friendship with you. He can see himself being more than the childhood friend who has always been there. He can see himself as the partner that always is there.

Wilbur is giddy the entire car ride. He’s giddy as he feels his bag burn on his shoulder. And he’s giddy until the second you embrace him in a hug and welcome him into your new apartment.

It’s bigger than the one you’ve had since university.

And then his future crumbles. You start talking about a guy named Jared. Fucking Jared. Why did even his name have to leave a sour taste in his mouth? A guy you met over the internet. Not just any guy. No specifically the fucker from the first time Wilbur had donated.

Apparently, he wasn’t a streamer, but a friend you had made during your 2 years you lived at university but never told Wilbur about. Not a single mention of him, and suddenly he’s all you’re talking about.

How could Wilbur have known? You hadn’t even mentioned him on stream. Wilbur always listened so carefully, writing down everyone you mentioned. You had called him attentive once, and he would never want to disappoint you. Maybe if he was attentive enough you would look his way.

Instead, here you are talking about this Jared guy. And Wilbur knows what he has to do. A thought he has been toying with for around 3 years now. Ever since you went to Disneyland together. A trip he paid for, and a trip that was streamed, so everyone could see you were his. You were always his.

That was easily his favourite video.

In the week up to the vacation, Wilbur had done everything he could to learn about cameras so he could help you, and do the most for you. He had even helped you sort through some of the non-streamed videos he filmed too for a YouTube video for you.

Which is where he found the clip of you changing.

The camera had been resting on your hotel bed, the video having a clear Dutch angle, leaving the hotel room slandered. But there you were, right square and centre still. Changing. It takes you a minute to finish before you turn around and pick the camera up again. Mumbling something as you turn it to show off your hotel room, and then the clip cuts to black.

He never told you about it, instead just saving that specific clip on a USB stick. A piece of tech he valued more than his life. Not that his life had ever been worth much in comparison to his.

Wilbur rips his bag open, careful not to make a lot of noise. He removed his clothes, and then the fake bottom. And underneath it reveals small security cameras.

Wilbur has never been more thankful for you being a heavy sleeper and letting him sleep on a mattress on the floor of your bedroom. He quietly sets up two in your bedroom, before moving into the rest of your house. One in your office that has been converted to a streaming room. His own personal angle to your public life.

Two more in the living room, he skips the kitchen and hesitates at the door of your bathroom. For the first time, he hesitates. His hand hovers over the doorknob, the other holding the camera.

“Wilbur?”

You’re standing in the hallway, sleep evident on your face.

“Will why are you making so much noise?”

“No reason darling, go back to bed, just needed some water.”

His breath is stuck in his throat until he hears you close the bedroom door again.

That was the first time he hesitated. And his last. He couldn’t afford it. He couldn’t afford to lose you further.

The rest of the trip passes Wilbur by as you introduce him to Jared. The douchebag himself. The asshole. The guy who dares take away what is Wilbur’s. Even on the ride home. All Wilbur can see is Jared’s image etched into his mind. His god-awful fashion sense. The way everything, he wore around you, just seemed to be a size too small. Nobody wants to see that fuckers’ muscles. Wilbur’s knuckles turn white, as he grips the steering wheel.

Jared has to go.

He’s ruining everything. He’s not part of the dream you told Wilbur you had. Jared has never been part of that. Wilbur was supposed to be part of that. Even if the dream changed through the year. Even if the one you’re living now is the unimaginable future the two of you imagined up at seventeen. But one thing was sure. Jared wasn’t part of that. Wilbur was.

Wilbur easily finds himself a new normal at home. The trip giving him a refreshed sense of hope. A plan in the making. His daily routine now including watching you all hours of the day. Not just your streams any longer. Every single second he can wrench out of those cameras.

And suddenly his friendship seems to improve with you too. Because now he can see when you’re sad and in need of a friend. He reaches out at the perfect time. Abusing your vulnerable state. Because it’s the best to do. It’s for the betterment of your future.

The more Wilbur is there for you, the more he resents Jared. He deserved to be in your bed, not that asshole. He deserves to reap the rewards of his hard labour. He is the one that has always been there because Wilbur has always stayed.

A simple click is all it takes for Wilbur and the item has been placed in a cart. Mere keystrokes and it has been paid. A single click and Wilbur has truly gone insane, as a packet is shipped off. A packet containing a bottle of sleeping pills.

The next time you invite Wilbur down, you barely recognise him as you open the door. Eyebags so deep you’ve never seen before. His entire body slightly twitching, and that manic smile on his lips. Wilbur brushes your concerns off, claiming that’s just what happens in real workplaces. Not that you would know anything about that.

Wilbur hates the feeling of insulting you, but you had barely responded the entire week. You deserved to suffer for a moment. Before he caves and apologises for being rude. That’s the moment you can see the resembles of his normal being as he hangs his shoulders.

Jared comes over that night. Just as Wilbur had planned. And this time he won’t hesitate. He even bought a bigger car for this.

Wilbur offers to mix the drinks, claiming to have learnt a new recipe. Which isn’t a lie, he has learned how to perfect just the right cocktail thick enough that covers the chalky residue of the pills. And sweet enough to make the bitter taste disappear.

He serves them, keeping a watchful eye as the night drags on, and Jared never seems to shut up. But Wilbur can deal with it for one night. Just for one. And then he won’t ever have to worry about Jared again.

He serves another.

And then another drink.

And finally. Finally. You’re starting to get tired. Slowly leaning against Wilbur. And he takes pride in that. Great pride. You didn’t choose to lean against Jared, you’re leaning against Wilbur.

Wilbur sits still until Jared too is starting to fall asleep. Wilbur is ecstatic.

He gets up slowly, gently laying you down, a pillow underneath your face. A blanket over you. He kisses your forehead and smells your hair. Taking in the shampoo scent still lingering.

Then Wilbur gets moving, he has stuff to do. Plans to execute after all.

He does his best to get Jared’s left arm over his shoulders. But their awkward height difference makes it difficult, but he can make it work. It has to work. He only gets one shot.

Wilbur gets the front door open before he realises a fatal flaw in his plan. He has to drag Jared down 3 floors worth of stairs. He realises he can’t do it the way he is now. He has to drag him down by his armpits instead.

It takes him the first flight of stairs to realise Jared shoes are making too much noise. He has to abandon them, Wilbur awkwardly gets Jared leaned against the wall before he removes Jared’s polished black shoes. Wilbur leaves them there, making a mental note to remember them when he comes back.

The rest of the stairs, while difficult and definitely breathtaking for someone who has no muscle strength. He makes it work. Wilbur actually makes it work.

He made it work. It worked. Oh god. It’s working.

Wilbur repositions Jared once more, his arm once again over Wilbur’s shoulders. The night sky greeting him as he steps out of the apartment complex. With great difficulty, Wilbur gets the two of them over to his car, where he throws open the trunk. In the proceed shaking the car, setting off the car alarm. Wilbur is quick to drop Jared as he fumbles after his car keys. It takes him nearly a full minute to turn off the car alarm.

Wilbur curses under his breath.

Annoyed with the time loss. He finally gets the knocked-out Jared into his trunk, and he shuts it again. Just as a front door in the apartment complex opens. A man steps out. He raises a hand to Wilbur, before pulling out a smoke.

Wilbur shuffles on his feet before raising a hand. And then awkwardly gets into his car.

Okay. Okay. Okay.

He has a body in his trunk. Now he just has to get to the harbour. Wilbur starts the car and starts the ride to the harbour a town over.

Half an hour has gone past when Wilbur is pulling the handbrake, and taking the keys out. He’s quick to get out, and even quicker to get to Jared. Wilbur keeps thinking about you. Your smile. Your kindness. Your voice. Your beauty. Your grace. As his hands are securing zip ties around the wrists and ankles of an unconscious man.

He has to go.

Wilbur reminds himself.

A cloth is tied around Jared’s filthy mouth, and then Wilbur is back to dragging him. It’s both easier and harder. Easier before he’s just dragging him across the pebbles and over to the brink of the harbour. Both of his arms are under both of Jared’s.

But it’s harder because if someone sees him it’s going to get difficult to explain. But nobody does. As far as Wilbur is aware.

So a splash is made by a body, and Jared is unceremoniously sinking to the bottom of the ocean floor.

Wilbur takes one more breath of fresh air. Before turning around and getting back into his new car.

He’s quick to arrive at your apartment complex. The man was no longer there. Wilbur goes to grip the front door. It doesn’t bulge.

Oh yeah, it’s locked.

He fishes the copy he made of your house key from his keychain and lets himself into the building he doesn’t live in. An invited guest, that has turned out to be an uninvited one.

He can feel the tiredness setting in his bones, as he ascends the stairs. And the realisation that he just killed someone hasn’t dawned on him yet. Instead, all his muscles are aching, and his eyes barely staying open.

He stumbles into your apartment. Another kiss gets left on your forehead as he goes for your bed. The smell is so nice. It’s so obvious to him this is where you sleep. And he’s soaking in each moment until his eyes are giving out.

His night remaining dreamless, instead, he gets awoken rather rudely around noon. You’ve pulled the comforter off him and told him to get up, so the two of you can spend some timeacting together. and Wilbur happily does that.

Not at all acing like a man who purposely took another person’s life mere hours ago. You rush him to get into his clothes. As you have something planned for rest of the day out of the apartment. You’re talking his ears off as you descend the first flight stairs your personal puppy in tow.

When you stop dead in your tracks. Wilbur nearly stumbles into you.

“Will, is that Jared’s shoes?”

And right there is in fact Jared’s shoes. The pair Wilbur had forgotten all about. The pair he had left unintentionally.

“Are you sure about that? Thought he already left.” Wilbur lies, he may be awkward, but he has gotten pretty good at lying to you through the years.

“Yeah yeah, you’re right. Why would he leave his shoes?”

The question gets left unanswered, and the tension is thick until you get outside, and the sun is shining. It seems it knows too of how good this day is for Wilbur, a dawn of a new era. Where you will finally acknowledge him as the perfect one for you.

The man from the nightstand once again with a smoke and raises his hand to greet Wilbur, once again Wilbur shuffles on his feet before he raises a hand back. You look at him weirdly, and Wilbur shrugs it off.

The rest of the day happening without any mishaps or other incidents. But the shoes just can’t seem to leave your mind, despite how hard Wilbur is trying to distract you.

And then the afternoon passes, and the night, and the car ride, and Wilbur is once again home. And as soon as the door closes. He crumbles down on the floor.

Oh god.

He did it.

He actually fucking did it.

He isn’t useless.

He’s fucking Wilbur, and Wilbur stays in your life. Even when you make such stupid mistakes as falling for another person. There’s only one person for you and that’s him.

You’re actually the first one to call him this time, and the smile never leaves his lips. Even if the call is about Jared. And how worried you are about not having heard from him. Wilbur just tells you; you should have listened to him. Guys on the internet are just like that. And that you deserve better. Someone like him.

You laugh at this and thank him for calming you down.

Wilbur suddenly loves phone calls.

This bliss is perfect for Wilbur you’re talking to him more and more. And he watches, god he watches you. Every step you take in that apartment is filmed logged on his computer.

However, all good things must come to an end, and Wilbur has barely pulled off his tie after work when a group of loud knocks sounds at his door. He isn’t expecting guests.

A group of men in blue uniforms greets him.

“Wilbur Soot, you’re under the arrest for the Murder of Jared Yarrow.”

Wilbur barely registers what’s going on, before he’s in a holding cell. A psych evaluation under his belt. A phone call to his father asking him to help him out.

The days bleed together in the unchanging environment, and suddenly a defender is telling him to plead for insanity.

Then the defender comes back again days later with a court date, and all Wilbur can do is count the seconds.

Time for the first time since arriving slows down when the doors to the court open and Wilbur is lead into the courtroom. And there you are, looking beautiful as ever. Tears and despair clearly written on your face. You look away from him, and it makes him stumble for a moment. A quick look to the other side, confirms his fear. His father is here. Alongside his brothers.

The trial goes over what happened that night, the evidence, the sleeping medication, the car. Everything. Yet even when his sentence is received, even when he is told he won’t see the sun again for a long time. There is only one thing on his mind.

They never found the cameras.

And he just can’t help but smile at that as he’s getting lead away to rot.

Because Wilbur has always stayed by your side, Wilbur always stays. -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

#wilbur soot #Simpbur #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x reader #simpbur x you #c!wilbur soot x reader #simpbur x reader #c!wilbur #c: simpbur #c!wilbur x reader #c!wilbur fanfic #c!wilbur x you #c!wilbur soot x you #dsmp #mcyt #fanfic #female!reader #delias own writing

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gashinabts · 4 years

Text

Ask Me Out (m)

Words: 5k

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader, Idiots to lovers

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Mature

Summary: You and Taehyung get in a fight because you were allegedly cheating, the only problem is, who are you dating and who are you cheating on.

Warnings: Teasing, spitting, oral (f/receiving), fingering, DomTae, slapping, jealously sex

A/N: Just a small one shot, hope you enjoy!! This is my work no reposting this and my other works on any other platforms.

Holding the letter tight to your chest you breathe out a heavy sigh before giving the letter to Eunha. Taehyung texted her that he will meet with her across the administration building, instead here you are standing in front of her, counting the seconds of when this interaction will end. She opens the letter and you cringe at every second she reads it, you look off at a distance to see if Taehyung could be watching this scene unfold. “ What the hell is this Y/N? Where’s Taehyung?,” she crumbles the letter and there’s irritation evident on her angelic face.

The one con of being Taehyung’s friend is that you have to break up with his girlfriends since he doesn’t like confrontation, to see them yell at him or worst cry in front of them.

In middle school Taehyung told you to break up with Soojin for him on Valentine's day, that was the first time you got bitch slapped by someone at school. Taehyung went to visit you at the nurse office with a red rose. “ Where did you get that?,” you asked him as you pressed the ice pack closer to your cheek. “ I stole it from Jungkook’s valentine’s gift,” he says, as he hands you the rose and sits next to you. His hands gently take off the ice pack inspecting your pink slap mark. “ Ouch. This will be the last time I let you do this for me,” he gives you a boxy smile. Another con of being his friend, Taehyung could be quite the liar.

“ Well as it says on the letter, he wants to break up with you…” you trail off taking a centimeter back. You don’t think she’ll do anything crazy, Eunha was nice when she was with Taehyung, however break ups can change a person.

Eunha takes a step closer and takes the lid of her ice coffee and throws it on your sweatshirt. The cup is empty and the ice cold coffee makes you flinch, “ I knew you guys were sleeping behind my back. Tell him, ‘ The next time he wants to break up with someone, he should be a man and tell them in person,’” she bumps her shoulder against you hard as she walks past you. You groan at her comment and walk towards the center of the campus where the water fountain is, there are students who briefly look at your coffee stain white sweatshirt. “ Well she got you good?,” Taehyung bites his lip and you glare at him. He stands tall right next to you, with his neutral tone baggy pants and sweatshirt. “ Hey I’m sorry I didn’t know she’ll react that way. Take my sweater,” he pulls his already oversized sweater and hands it to you.

You pull off your soaked sweater, “ That’s what you always say Tae,” then you put on his ugly dark green sweater. “ When are you ever going to have the guts to ask the girls you like out and also break up with them?” There’s also another thing he has a problem with, he needs to have someone, you, to ask the girls he likes out. It’s always awkward for you to tell them that Taehyung, the guy that you have a slight crush on, likes them.

“ Y/N, I can’t do that! Just imagine if I ask someone out and they straight out reject me. I would be traumatized for my whole life,” he takes your dirty sweater and walks with you to the apartment.

“ Nope. I can’t possibly see that. You are attractive and funny so I don’t see how you’ll be rejected,” you smell yourself and groan at the scent of ice americano. “ Look, ask me out right now,” you joke around while laughing to yourself. The short laugh becomes a gasp when Taehyung pushes you against a wall with his arm caging you in. His face is close to yours, you could almost count all the long dark eyelashes. Time feels like it slows down because the wind started to lessen along with chirping sounds from the birds.

“ Y/N. Go out with me,” he looks at you dead in the eye, his black curls slightly cover them. Without thinking much you let out a small okay and he backs up giving you space.

His face returns back to his bubbly self smiling, “ Do you want to order fried chicken and beer or pizza?,” he asked you while adjusting the straps of his backpack. The question takes you back and you pinch yourself just to see if this is a dream or an alternative universel. “ Fried chicken and beer,” you tell him, walking alongside him. There is silence between you two as he orders the food on his phone, he gives you the phone so you can review the order, you smile as he orders an extra order of spicy chicken since you are the only one that likes it. “ Looks good,” you say while handing it back.

You and Taehyung are watching a movie while eating the fried chicken peacefully until Jungkook barges in the living room from the front door, “ BAHAHA...Y/N you’re like all over everyone's snapchat. I even saw this video on my fyp on tiktok. Look it almost has one million likes,” he hands his phone while sitting down on the couch. ‘It’s the cheating for me’ you groan as you read the description. “ What the hell? Did you at least comment and tell them that I wasn’t the other woman?,” you ask Jungkook, the video plays and Eunha throws the coffee at you and your face grimaces.

“Yeah but like my comment got lost through the thousands of comments that are there,” he grabs a beer from the table, “ just live through your fifteen minutes of fame,” he chugs the beer. “ Ohh spicy chicken, my favorite,” his hands grab your chicken eating it with gusto.

You toss the phone on the couch, “ Y/N-” you ignore Taehyung’s voice as you go to your room. You take solace in your warm comforter hugging your stuffed penguin and taking a nap. The feeling of Taehyung’s warm hands wakes you up, he’s spooning you, hugging you tightly against his chest. You are used to Taehyung's skin ship at home, he typically does this when he sees a scary movie and has nightmares so he crawls into your bed or when the apartment is too cold and he doesn’t want to spend money on the heater. “ Are you okay?,” he asked carefully.

“ Yeah, I just hate how people don’t know the real story but it’s whatever I have you to make me feel better,” you sigh as you hug your penguin tighter.

He laughs and grabs the stuffed animal, “ You still have this raggedy thing?”

“ I’m not gonna throw him away. It was a present,” you take it back in your arms. Yeah, it looks beaten down but it was something special you cherished.

“ Man, I still can’t believe you dated Jungkook in high school. Doesn’t it feel weird to have that since you guys are not dating?,” he hugs you closer to him, you feel his warm breath against your neck.

“ Nah, we are still good friends even if he is kind of an asshole,” one of your hands reaches back raking your fingers against his curls. He hums deeply, “ Are you jealous of Mr. Penguin?,” you teased him with the question.

“ Kind of,” he mutters and snuggles into your hair. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting but you ignore it going back to sleep.

---

You grab an ice coffee for Taehyung and add sugar but a light tap halts you, turning you see a girl holding a phone zooming onto your face, “ Is this you?,” she asked you, eyes peering for a reaction. It was that stupid video from tiktok.

You laugh lightly, “ No, that is my twin,” you lie eaisly, you ignore her calls as you continue walking. You wait outside Taehyung’s office since he is talking to one of his students. The student adorably bows multiple times and thanks him, as she exits his room. “ She’s cute,” you comment as you enter his office with his coffee. He has his glasses on, along with his usual comfy aesthetic, there are a bunch of papers on the desk, and he looks the part as professor but clearly isn’t because he is a TA.

“ You are cute,” his large hand holds your hand giving it a quick kiss, while grabbing the coffee with his other hand and starts to gulp it. Today you were far from cute, you had no makeup, and you feel bloated because you were on your period. “ There’s an essay due about the elements of Gothic architecture and she was having a hard time about what to write,” he moves his hand as he talks, he finally sits down on his desk.

“ That sounds fun,” you sarcastically state. Sitting down on the chair you look on his desk and there’s a picture of you and him at the Louvre, it was two years ago that you guys spontaneously took a trip to Paris.

“ Sorry you aren’t a fan of art history,” he nudges you with his leg, “ Anyways let’s go to this new hotpot restaurant,” he gets up putting his laptop away along with his papers. “ Should we invite Jungkook?,” you asked while putting your seatbelt on in Taehyung's car.

“ No. It’s Y/N and Taehyung time,” he firmly states but his sparkly teeth show as he smiles.

---

“ You guys look closer than ever, which is weird because how can you guys possibly get closer,” Jungkook comments as you wash the dishes. It’s obvious that he is talking about Taehyung. Taehyung had been more clingy with you, almost every night sleeping in your bed and taking you to random restaurants without Jungkook.

“ What do you mean? We are always like that, you are just jealous that we don’t take you out anymore and pay for you,” you finish washing the last plate, you put the gloves away to dry. Jungkook crosses his arms which cause his biceps to bulge and you throw your head back with a laugh, “ Is that supposed to intimidate me?,” you lean against the counter.

He walks closer, “ Kinda, I’ve been working out,” he flexes it more. You roll your eyes and he stands right in front of you, “ So friends just invade other people’s personal space?,” his face comes closer to you, making eye contact with you. He’s provoking you and you just want to slap his smirk off his face. Jungkook lays his head against your neck, rubbing his nose against your neck, his body is against yours. “ This kind of reminds me of our first time, we did it in my parent’s kitchen when they weren’t home,” his hands gripped your waist.

You decided to play at his game, your hands reach his nape pulling his hair, “ But then you came the minute you put it in,” you whisper against his ear. You laugh as his face flush with embarrassment, you push him against his chest so he can give you space.

“ C’mon Y/N that wasn’t nice,” he groans, he tugs his situation in his grey sweatpants to not make it obvious that he has a boner. You stop laughing when you see Taehyung standing near the entrance of the kitchen, he has a blank face and goes to the fridge. Jungkook turned around looking at Taehyung as he quietly grabbed a coke, “ Hey Hyung, have you eaten? Y/N made dinner.”

Taehyung looks at Jungkook, “ I’m good,” he doesn’t even acknowledge you, walking away from the kitchen and you hear his door shut.

It’s quiet as you eat dinner alone and it is even quieter when you go to sleep by yourself. The bed feels more bigger and you might think it’s more comfortable but it’s not since you don’t have Taehyung hugging you like a pillow. The next morning you wake up late, Taehyung usually wakes you up and cooks you burnt toast with a shitload of jam but this time he’s already gone.

After class, you get his favorite coffee drink, and go to his office, there is another cute student talking to him. You peer through the window and see how happily he exchanges words with her. You wait until their session is done and she thanks him and he waves goodbye, you walk into his office. He looks at you but quickly reverts his gaze back at his laptop screen typing mindlessly. Placing the coffee on his desk, “ She’s cute,” you comment.

“ Yeah,” he says and continues typing, your heart lurches not expecting him to agree with you. There’s so much tension you feel like you are walking on eggshells.

“ Umm...are you okay?,” you ask timidly. You aren’t sure if he heard you since a minute goes by and he looks through his paper and then again types. There is sweat coming off your hands and wipe them down against your jeans,“ Taehyung?,” you speak just a decibel louder.

He closes his laptop, packing up his papers, throwing them harpazidly in his backpack, throwing the ice coffee that he hasn’t even got a sip of into the trash. “ I’m meeting with someone,” he brushes past you trying to exit his office. You grab his wrist before he can leave, “ Tae, are you mad at me?,” is the only question you can think of.

This is the first time he looks at you, it’s the first time he has ever shown anger at you, he yanks his hand back to himself and the feeling of the subtle warmth is gone from the palms of your hand. “ I just didn’t think you were the type of girl to cheat and try to fuck their ex in the kitchen,” he says seriously.

Cheating? Who were you cheating on? “ I wasn’t- Jungkook and I-,” you try to explain yourself but he wasn’t hearing any of it. He interrupts you, “ I don’t care anymore...I don’t want to see your face,” he jabs at you with a disgusted face one last time before leaving. There’s tears coming out and you quickly wipe them but they still stream down your cheeks. This is the first time in your friendship that you had a fight with Taehyung and it looks like it will be the last time you grab the tissue of his desk blowing your nose. The picture of you and Taehyung gleefully smiling in Paris is mocking you, you grab the picture and take it with you before he can also throw it away as easily as he did with the ice coffee.

You usually don’t like going to your parent’s house but this time you accept their invitation, planning to stay with them for a week, you already submitted all the assignments for classes and you could always look at the podcast lectures. There’s not much clothes you have to pack up since you hardly buy any new clothes and you usually borrow Taehyung's infinite amount of clothes, well used to. “ I’ll see you in a week,” you hug Jungkook goodbye.

“ Make sure you get some rest,” he walks you to the car, you nod and smile at him, waving him goodbye.

This is the last time you will ever visit your family, they make you do chores and take care of your nephews and nieces. It doesn’t even feel like you got any rest, you found a box under your bed and it’s filled with pictures of you and Taehyung, some of Jungkook but mostly of Taehyung. The more you shuffle through the pictures it gets harder to hold your tears. You have the urge to call him but you are afraid that he has you blocked.

---

It feels and sounds quiet in the apartment, Taehyung thinks to himself. Jungkook isn’t even making noise either which is odd since he is loud. He hasn’t seen you in three days, he was sure that he was going to eventually bump into around the house while you cook or get out of the shower but nothing, he hasn’t even seen light peek out of your door. He hears the door opening expecting it was you but it was Jungkook. Jungkook goes straight to the kitchen taking out a pan and vegetables out of the fridge, “ You want some Kimchi fried rice?,” Jungkook asks as he cuts some kimchi.

“ No,” Taehyung shakes his head and scrolls down on his instagram.

Jungkook sighs loudly, “ Wow this is going to suck. I have to start learning how to cook better since Y/N moved out.”

Taehyung drops his phone on the ground, “ What?,” he asked while walking towards the kitchen to where Jungkook is at.

Jungkook puts oil in the pan and adds onions, “ Yeah she moved out three days ago. She looked really sad, took everything she had and left.” Taehyung doesn’t believe him and enters her room, the bed looks empty, there are no comforters or pillows, he opens your drawers and is met with nothing, there are some skincare products on the table but those can easily be left behind. However there are pictures of you and Taehyung on the dresser, and he easily spots the one that he kept in his office. He walks back out and Jungkook looks like he is almost done cooking. “ You could be a real asshole Taehyung. Y/N would never do anything with me since she already whipped for you. The things you make her do and how she always does it because your Taehyung,” Jungkook says and finally turns off the stove.

“ What are talking about?,” Taehyung asked with hesitance.

“ Ask Y/N, why does she break up with people for you despite the many times she gets hurt from it. Ask her why does she spend so much money on your dumb ice americano? Ask her why she broke up with me in high school?,” Jungkook didn’t mean for the last question to come out but he’s tired of his two best friends being idiots. “ I’m going to eat in my room,” he leaves with a plate of Kimchi fried rice.

Taehyung sits in silence in his room thinking about your last conversation with him, and how he didn’t let you explain. How he yelled at you, how he threw his coffee, and how you looked like you wanted to cry. He hugged his pillow tightly desperately wishing that it was you and maybe if he thought hard enough you would appear.

---

“ Are you sure you don’t want to stay the whole week?,” your Mom asked while she helped you put your suitcase in your car. It’s the fourth day, six in the morning, and you don’t think you can last another day with her yelling at you to stop taking naps and to go grocery shopping with her.

Getting in your small car you sigh,“ Yeah, I have to go back. I forgot to turn something in for class,” you make up a lie.

“ What? Are you serious? Why didn’t you do that before when you came here, that’s very irresponsible-” Maybe on another day you can take her lecturing but not today.

“ Okay, bye Mom. Love you!,” you close your door waving at her as you leave the driveway.

It is expected for the apartment to be quiet since it’s early in the morning, you drag the suitcase quietly hoping that you won’t wake them up. Opening the door slowly, you are shocked to see a sleeping figure in your bed, your hand let’s go of the suitcase and you yelp trying to get it but it comes down crashing loudly on the wooden floor. Taehyung's head pops up from his small blanket, looking at you with wide eyes. “ I umm- I’m sorry. I’ll leave right now,” you pathetically try to excuse yourself. Taehyung said he didn’t want to see your face anymore so you hurry to pick up your things. Your shaky hands try to grab your suitcase but you are tackled into a hug, Taehyung’s arms engulf you trying to make you part of his body.

“ You came...I was scared that you were gone forever,” he whispers. “ I’m sorry for what I said. I was an asshole and didn’t let you speak. I hurt you in many ways that I never expected. Then Jungkook said you moved out…” he trailed off you couldn’t clearly hear him since his voice muffled in your hair.

“ Taehyung, let’s sit down and talk, okay?,” you asked him and brushed some of the strands of hair out of his face. He nods and sits down beside you and your bed, “ I wasn’t going to move out, I just went to visit my parents hoping that would relax me but it didn’t so I came back early,” you smile at him. “ Okay good,” he smiles back and scoots closer to you. “ Taehyung, I need to ask you something?,” you look away nervously.

“ Ask me,” he encourages and grabs your chin to look at you.

You swallow nervously, “ Are we together? I mean were we together? Since you said I cheated on you and I was kind of confused…” you trail off playing with your fingers.

He grabs your hands gently squeezing them “ Of course we were together. I mean we still are. Remember when you told me to ask you out?,” he asked, you nodded remembering it vividly, “ Well since that day we’ve been dating.” You didn’t think that was serious but it did make sense because of all the skinship he was doing and the places he would take out to eat. He did take you to the Han river and had a picnic during the night which you found oddly romantic but you didn’t think much into it. “ Y/N, I’m sorry,” he asked, kissing your hands.

“ It’s okay there was a misunderstanding. Next time, let’s talk before we act out on our emotions,” you tell him softly, before pecking him on his cheek. Turning quickly away so he won’t see you blushing in the morning sun. “ Help me set up comforters,” you get up, grabbing the comforters off the floor. He helps you set it up while complaining about how he missed you while you were gone, crying in your bed until Jungkook told him to shut up. You place Mr. Penguin on the bed and lay down hugging it.

Taehyung turns your body easily around so you're facing him, “ I actually didn’t know we were dating, I thought we were joking around,” your hand caresses his sharp jawline.

“ Idiot. I would never joke around about dating you,” he scoffs and takes the hand you were caressing him with, bringing it to his lips, kissing it softly. His lips move to your wrist, trailing up your forearm, arising goosebumps and leaving a giggly response from you, making him smile. Taehyung scoots closer to your neck so he can leave kisses there and you hug him closer when he kisses a particular spot that makes you squirm. The kisses trail upwards to your jaw, going closer to the area you wanted. He looks at you seeking permission and you pull him to feel your lips against his. It’s soft as you expected and you sigh happily at the feeling of his warmth. He pulls aways looking at you, “ That was nice,” he says as he moves over to hover you.

“ Yeah, it was,” you pull him down for another kiss, this time it’s more needier. Lips smacking at each other can be heard along with some heavy breathing. Your hands leave his tousled hair and go under his baggy sleeping shirt, feeling his naked back. You never thought you could feel Taehyung this way, but here are lightly trailing your fingers up and down his back. His mouth leaves yours kissing your neck and leaving marks here and there, he pulls the collar of your shirt down trying to get more access but gets frustrated. Laughing at him, you pull your shirt off, laying back down so he can kiss wherever he desires. His eyes sparkle at the sight of the swell of your breast, immediately leaving open mouth kisses that make you shudder with excitement. His large hands pull the cups of bra and his mouth envelopes your nipple, sucking while his other fondles with your other breast. Your pants are being louder and you can’t take anymore of the teasing. Your hands pull his hair as he lightly bites your nipple leaving you with pleasure and pain, “ Touch me Taehyung,” moaning at the end of the sentence.

“ Baby, I am touching you,” his lips leave your abused nipple and go to the other one giving it the same treatment. It looks like he enjoys you getting impatient since he is smiling at your frustration as you try to grind against him. “ No no no, touch me somewhere else,” you tell him shyly, you are never this coy with your partners but Taehyung just screams out dominance. His eyes darken and his mouth leave your nipple along with a string of salvia, his hand wipes his spit all over your chest. He sits up pulling off his shirt, his eyebrow arched, “ Where does my baby want to be touched?,” he asked, looking down on you. Your hand trails down to the button of your jeans, slightly tugging at it, refusing to tell him in words. His index finger tugs at the belt loop, “ You want me to touch your pussy?” Blushing at his words you nod, he takes off your jeans and looks at your panties, smirking at your evident arousal. He bends down and kisses above the hem of your panties before tugging them down your legs.

“ Please Tae,” you whine as he teasingly kisses the inside of your thighs, Taehyung finally listens to your words and eats you out like his favorite dessert, his hands holding your thighs up trying to taste more of you. Crying out in pleasure, as his tongue pays special attention to your clit and his two fingers slowly inched his way into your seeping hole. Afraid that you are making too much noise, you moan into your palm, his head lifts up and you whine at the loss of his tongue. “ Who told you you can cover your pretty mouth?,” Taehyung slaps your cunt, making you moan louder. “ Sorry,” you meekly let out but you desperately want to be punished again. He chuckles at your apology, rubbing your cunt to soothe the pain, “ Do you want me to fuck this needy pussy?”

“ Yes, I want you so bad,” you drawl at your words, hips rising and riding his long fingers. His fingers withdraw from you, quickly taking off his sweats and boxers, as you finally discard your bra. “ Spit,” he commands, his hand is below your mouth. Following his command, his large hand wraps around his impressive dick and you can’t wait for it to stretch you. Reaching to your drawer, you give him a condom and he puts it on. Taehyung slowly enters you and you feel an immediate stretch, your nails scratch his back at the slight pain. He kisses you to relax you and smile at his encouraging words. Moaning at the slow thrusting, the pain is completely gone, wanting to feel him deeper you tell him to fuck you harder. His hips move at fast pace and you can feel him in your stomach, “ You’re so fucking tight, I’m gonna have to fuck you everyday,” he moans out. “ Gonna have to fuck you everywhere too, so Jungkook can no longer flirt with you,” he thrust deeper hitting that particular spot that makes your toes curl. Nodding deliriously you meet his thrust, eyes rolling back at the euphoric feeling of Taehyung fucking you good. Moaning his name louder, as he grabs your jaw forcing you to look at him, “ I’m the only one that makes you feel this good, right?,” he asked but he already knows the answer.

“ Only you, only Taehyung,” you scream out feeling his other hand rubbing your clit. “ No one else,” you confirm once more, pulling him down for a messy kiss. Your approach is coming, clenching around him harder, “ I’m gonna cum,” you claw his back more, “ Can I please cum?,” begging him.

Rubbing your clit faster, “ Yeah, fucking cum for me, scream out my name,” he gives your clit you couple smacks. Crying out his name you come loudly with your body shaking in pleasure. Taehyung's pace falters, groaning at your tight cunt swallowing him in, holding your body closer as he orgasms. Kissing you softly Taehyung pulls out, tossing the condom in the trash bin. “ How’s my baby?,” he asked while stroking your flush cheeks.

“ Good but kinda tired,” giving him a tired smile. “ Taehyung I like you so much,” you confess, holding his warm hand against your cheek. High school you would be so proud that you finally confessed to him.

Taehyung grabs your hand and kisses it, “ I like you so much more. I liked you since high school but I was afraid to tell you and then you started dating Jungkook. So I thought I can never be your type. But then you told me to ask you out, joke or not, I thought that was finally my chance to have you be my girl,” he softly speaks but there’s an underlying insecurity in voice. Your hands pull him close to your body causing him to squeal, his head is on top of your breast listening to your heartbeat, as one of your hands comb his hair.

“ I guess we are both idiots, I liked you since high school too. But here we are now in each other's arms, better late than never right?,” you sigh. His fingers trace shapes your stomach, “ Just gotta make up for the lost time,” he agrees and his hand trails down.

“ Yes but not now because I’m tired,” you grab his hand before it can go any further. He laughs and kisses your breast tenderly.

“ I’m just glad that Mr. Penguin got to see me fuck my girl,” he snuggles more into you with heavy eyelids.

You sleepy smile at his words, “ You are so weird.”

——————————————————————————

Do not repost, translate, or alternate my work in any way, onto any platform. I do not take plagiarism lightly.

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thirsthourdemon · 4 years

Text

Headcanon on their online platforms but mainly on Twitch, onlyfans stuff, patreon, tumblr

Includes: Demon bros + undateablesss

Genre: Crack, Fluff and slight smut

Warnings: NSFW mentions

||Lucifer

-He didn’t have a big online presence because he was active, no no

-He had an online presence cause everyone always sees him on Diavolo s pictures and such so for a time they shared an audience

-One time Diavolo and Barbatos were doing a thing where they read a book aloud for some sort of game

-Diavolo kind of recorded that for a little bit

-ASMR I TELL YOU

-People liked it so much they suggested for “the one with the deep cold voice”, luci, to do asmr on youtube or something

-He doesn’t know what an Onlyfans is however he does have a patreon.

-Diavolo was interested in the idea and discussed it with him

-HE BLEW UP CAUSE EVERYONE WAS FREAKING OUT OVER HOW AMAZING HIS VOICE WAS OF COURSE! 😡

-His fandom consists of either people who are interested in what he reads or...Horny people who get off at how proper and low his voice is

-His profile picture is a picture of him with his head cropped out where he’s fixing his gloves

-Luci isnt like super famous but he has a loyal fanbase that appreciates him a lot also lots of simps with daddy issues

-He was confused as to why someone would ask him to be their father

-He gets the daddy kink but why???

-Last post: A picture MC took where he’s holding a whip cause mammon fucked something up 🙂

||Mammon

-Bold of us to assume he didn’t already have one

-You already know why he’s on here.

-He has random content but he mainly got his audience since he kind of tried modeling thing for a while. It was for a big brand on their new jock type jackets

-Mammon really wanted cash at that time and he got the thing over and done with making him a couple more grims richer

-The photographers told him they could transfer the pictures though! So he just saved his pictures because “Who wouldn’t want a picture of THE mammon?”

-That gave him the idea

-His audience? Whoreknee

-They even accept the fact that his captions for some pictures are “You should be honored you get pictures of me”

-He posts that with a blushing face half of the time HAHAHAHA

-Levi found it and just laughed at the pictures

-Surprisingly enough the pictures were actually well taken because MC was forced into em

-His most popular picture was the one with him was actually a picture that the brothers took of him tucking in what appeared to be goldie on a seperate MINI BED WITH A SMALL TOY LAMP BESIDE IT

-He did a QnA for his followers to celebrate on his instagram

-PFFTT He got so many questions about Goldie

-Was dubbed “Goldie’s Daddy” after that

-Last post: A picture of him wearing the new Luxury brand jacket he got and his keys in front of his car with the caption “Daddy’s going for a ride”

||Leviathan

-I’ve always head canon that Levi knows how to draw digital emotes. Like he just picked it up cause he wanted to make fanart of him in henry together 😔

-Also has a red bubble or an etsy where he sells some prints and stickers of fanart 👀

-He went on twitch since there were so many TSL streamers there who just played games while they discussed theories as well

-Levi is an emote artist and while he draws he sometimes just discusses the theories with his fellow Yucky Otakus

-He’s the type to really interact with everyone even though he barely does that in real life

-Sometimes though when he gets packages that fans sent or ones that he ordered he’d stream unboxing them.

-He hates showing his face? Oh dont worry He’s wearing a facemask and all that

-His fandom is genuinely into him. Like they actually like him as a person but kinda once got into a scandal on gatekeeping

-He took a break for a bit but he kind of said sorry and everyone just forgave him because he isn’t really the type to do drama and it was just that one instance-

-Overall loved by the community due to how chill he is and how invested he is on fan theories

-He has a twitter btw and lemme tell you it’s just threads and threads of discussions

-Whenever he does stream unboxing videos though and he shows his shelves everyone freaks out how he has EVERY FUCKING VOLUME OF EVERY ANIME AND GAME

-People sometimes ask him personal questions and he tries his best to try to answer them but he shows a face where he looks uncomfy

-Everyone just bullies anyone who makes him uncomfy giving his fanbase a very protective reputation

-Last post: “Unboxing fanmail L8er @ 10pm LOL CYA GUYS XD”

||Satan

-He has a tumblr. You cant tell me he doesn’t have one.

-He had tumblr like back in the old day though like when porn was still available here.

-Get this...He’s known all through out the academia blogs. He INVENTED Academia

-Satan has 1 blog and that’s it. It’s his main blog and he just posts pictures of the book cover and does essays, reviews or sometimes he writes the ending he wanted to happen.

-Dont get me wrong he has a patreon but only because people loved getting more exclusive takes of stuff like his book notes on certain pages or sometimes his notes and thoughts on Artistic Erotica

-Probably has a Ko-Fi because he though he needed it after most of the blogs he followed had it

-He thinks it should be “Table of Content” and not “Masterlist” so he uses just that

-Profile picture is him wearing his signature washed out green grandma sweater while he has a book in hand and a cup of earl grey on his table

-People go to him falling in love with his aesthetic and Book reviews but they stay in love with him because he is big on one on one discussions actually

-He goes for one on one voice calls where he just...He talks to you about any book of your choosing

-Fans send him tea but he knows better than to eat something a stranger gives so he makes beel take a taste first sometimes but ultimately scolds the boy when he takes too much

-He wasn’t supposed to have merch but everyone liked the idea of small packages (More like letters) that really do look old and vintage

-He usually only give those to the people who pay for the top tier stuff

-It usually contains 1 type of tea, a letter he wrote for them himself and a bookmark with his name stamped on it

-He got the stamp custom made ❤️

-Last post: (Insert 5k word essay)

This is what I thought of Edgar Allan Poe’s “A cask of Amatillado”

Playlist: (Insert soft classic Music playlist on Spotify)

Tea: Black Currant

||Asmodeus

-ONLY FANS THROUGH AND THROUGH

-Is a brand influencer as well

-The brand ambassador of this pretty well known semi-luxury skin care brand

-His devilgram? Perfectly made by his PR team which is just him and solomon

-Before I move onto the NSFW stuff I want to emphasize how Beautiful his instagram is and his aesthetic

-His aesthetic is romantic/sexual tension/Unparalleled beauty

-Also a make up brand influencer and has his own make up line

-something along the lines of “The Devil’s box of charms 🖤”

-The type to DG live whenever he’s just showing off the make up look he did or the outfit he got

-The house of lamentation may have PR packages stacking up due to how most of them have an online influence but out of 10 boxes 7 of them would be for Asmo

-OKAY NOW ONTO NSFW STUFF

-Lemme tell you this...He has a specific drawer and space in his closet just for the sexy outfits he has.

-The demon’s onlyfans has pictures of him just teasing his audience where he’s wearing a black skintight get up and his bulge is showing

-Nudes are for mid and top tiers

-His fandom loves seeing in stocking and chokers

-“The choker is from etsy and here’s the link to their shop~”

-He doesnt completely show his body but...Him in suggestive clothing gets everyone pre cumming

-His fandom is just filled with simps 😔

-He loves them and blows a kiss towards the camera everytime he ends a live

-Probably has had a scandal or 4

-Posted an Ahegao once and everyone lost it

-Has been the face for Ahegaos ever since

-Belle delphine who?

-Definitely tik tok famous too 😎

-Has memorized all of Doja Cat’s songs

-Last post: “Hope you guys are ready for tonight’s session~ 😈” With a picture of him in an Fuchsia and black themed lingerie set. A collar with a bell on it.

-Bonus: One time Solomon summoned him while he was taking pictures and he was still in his lingerie set. 😛

||Beelzebub

-Was originally inspired by Mukbangs Channels so he did them on youtube too

-You get his Mukbangs on your recommended, You subscribe because of his cute and funny reactions whenever someone in the backgrounds is astounded to how much he’s eating

-Everyone knew beel as a cute guy who just does Mukbangs and loves to eat

-He once did a fridge raid and ended up eating everything in the fridge

-That was THE MOST CHAOTIC VIDEO on his channel cause you can just see luci and MC trying to make him stop

-He eventually got a patreon because mammon told him people will give him more money for food like that and to be honest he made a patreon but mammon takes care of it from time to time

-Oh you knew him as this sweet beautiful boy who just likes eating? hERe HavE sOmE WorKOUt pICs

-His body got everyone thirsty or may I say Starving

-S I M P S everywhere

-His patreon content is just him making small videos eating or pictures of him being all sweaty from the gym 😛💦

-“DADDY BWDONMXMSKC PLEASE FEED US”

-“Eh? You should feed me instead” *opens his mouth*

-Fans send him lots of boxes of weird food to see his reaction sometimes

-Did the fire noodle challenge a bit late but everyone is surprised to how he isn’t giving the reaction like they expected him

-Spice tolerance? Unmatched

-His fandom is either “UwU Beel please eat try this!” Or “Daddy Please FEED US WITH YOUR DELICIOUS THIGHS! 😩🥵💦💦💦”

-He does the service where he sends you his body building pictures except he isn’t sending them, Mammon is.

-Manager Mammon 😎 Gets a half of the profit

-Can I just...BeelProbablyHasnevergottenintoanyscandalbuthasalotofhaterssayingthefansonlylikehimforhishandsomefaceandgreatbodyandnicevoicebutlikewhatiswrongwithlikinghimbecauseofthosethings?Itisntbadtolikethatstuffatall

-Last post: “🍙 Thank you to @(Your Username) for the Onigiri! I finished the whole batch! Please send more food”

||Belphegor

-Sleep Guru

-Im sorry but I cant see him having any other social media aside from tumblr, twitter and Devilgram

-Belphie barely checks his phone but he has tumblr because apparently there’s a thing called the SandMan’s Box Community

-It’s like LootCrate, a subscription service that gives you stuff like Comfy Pillow sheets and tea for better sleeping

-This even gives you something like sleeping masks or ear muffs.

-The community is well...nocturnal

-His ask box is always full of his 100+ mutuals who just discuss stuff with him

-Whenever he actually does try to type online he makes articles about the best sleep positions or stuff like that

-His fandom is just loving mutuals who sleep and take care of each other

-They have a discord server where it just plays soft music to help everyone sleep

-Last post: “Humans aren’t so bad when they’re asleep”

||Luke and Simeon

-He has a big following on twitch where he just bakes sweets in his cute little hat and-

-Clearly you can tell I follow him on twitch

-The type of twitch streamer that no one hates on because why would you? He is literally just baking and cute comments

-Sometimes he streams with Simeon and everyone loves both of them

-When people give money they dont give “money” no no...they call donating headpats

-Luke is just so adorable that everyone just...

-“Angel Lulu’s Protection Squad⭐️”

-He got famous when he...He doesnt want to call it a collab but He made a lot of sweets and gave them to beel so everyone freaked out and thought

-THE SWEET BOY THAT EATS A LOT AND THE ANGELIC CHILD THAT MAKES SWEETS A LOT ARE FRIENDS?!

-He is now pissed that everyone thinks they’re friends 😠

-Basically his fans started making dishes and candy inspired by him

-Sometimes they send it in and Simeon has to confiscate some because

-“Im sorry, guys. You are all really sweet and I know that you mean well but Luke isn’t allowed much sweets yet”

-No one ever EVER lewds luke

-Fortunately Luke’s fandom has the least amount of pedophiles because everyone drives them away the moment they try something

-Whenever luke does fan mail/unboxing videos people just adore how Simeon places a glass of water at the table below the camera and the scissors or cutter he uses is child proof

-Even though Luke is the main person on his account everyone also notices Simeon.

-How couldn’t they? He looked like he wanted to make everyone in the audience live a better life

-Add that with luke’s wholesome baking and BOOM! You are now ready for a better life🌟

-Last post: It’s a picture of Luke shyly showing of his new batch of sun and moon shaped sugar cookies. “Sun and Moon. Tune in later at 3 pm to see how we made these!”

||Solomon

-He barely posts but he helps asmodeus with his stuff

-Too busy with anything else but helps out when things get interesting

-Proposes Ideas for Asmo sometimes when the demon doesn’t know what to wear for a live or a story

-Laughs at Asmo sometimes when he gets into scandals and drama

-Happy cameraman ❤️

-People follow him because 1.) He’s hot 2.) The fans ship him with Asmodeus

-Last Post: “When will you learn 🙂”

||Diavolo

-He is a vlogger~ Not a very active vlogger but a vlogger nonetheless

-He films anything he can but he’s more known on tik tok and devilgram rather than twitch or youtube

-People have been thirsting for him ever since and no one can convince me that they dont just shamelessly call him daddy whenever he goes on live

-Barbatos makes sure however that whenever it isnt appropriate anymore that he would tell diavolo to turn the camera off

-Wranggled Luci into his mess and now everyone knows the face of that one dude who just reads documents

-Everyone lowkey ships them

-Diavolo is the type to take a picture of a big meeting or a retreat out of instinct to just document his life

-He actually didnt know about vloggers before but he just liked the thought of documenting it

-Everyone picks up “Master” vibes as they say from him hehehe

-He doesnt have an Onlyfans or patreon 😔😔😔

-I honestly would have subscribed to his services

-Last post: “Barbatos made a delicious meal for us at the retreat today” Along with a picture of the Beautiful Demon Delicacy Spread in the table.

Taglist: No one yet (Please be part of the taglist for more content like this ☹️ It’s getting really discouraging)

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freckles-and-jalapeno · 3 years

Text

First Snow

Word count: about 5K 🎧: this Originally I posted it on AO3 in 2 languages, English and Russian. Check it out if you'd like! Other than that, I hope u enjoy! 🌟

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First snow...

No, we’re not talking about that pathetic, grey, mashed potato-like mud that makes your socks wet. It’s not those soggy pieces of cold white cotton wool, blown into the folds of your scarf by the wind. And it’s not that icy-cold frost that bites into your cheeks and ears, ruffles your hair and pierces the layers of your coat and sweaters. It’s that warm, pure December snow that quietly falls from the sky in soft flakes.

- What fine weekend weather we‘re having today! - happily said Tonks as she was crunching on her cheese toast. - Last week, you said exactly the same thing about the snowstorm - remarked Talbott, briefly looking up from his book "Transfiguration Tips for Young Wizards and Witches".

"What’s wrong with enjoying life?" Tonks would have answered, but since her mouth was still full of food, she only managed “Fffoosss wwonkk ittph eehooaaifff?”

Indeed, everyone at Hogwarts was in high spirits: the winter holidays were in full swing, half of the tables in the Great Hall were removed to accommodate beautiful Christmas trees, and students from different houses were allowed to sit together. Y/N, Tulip and Bill were the first ones to arrive for breakfast and attack the apple oatmeal; then Talbott and Tonks joined them. The air was full of joyful hubbub: the owls, who already delivered their morning parcels, were hooting and flapping their wings; students were rattling with their spoons and cups or loudly discussing the latest gossip from The Daily Prophet . And yet, there was one man in the castle who did not share the common joy.

Charlie has entered the Great Hall and tragically plopped down next to Tonks. - It’s a nightmare. I asked Francesca Wayne out on a date, and she agreed. - And... isn't that good news? - Bill gestured with his spoon of oatmeal towards his brother. Coincidentally, some oatmeal flew off the spoon, soared over the table and sludged right onto Barnaby’s shoulder.

- Her agreeing to go on a date with me was good. - Charlie said. - We were strolling around Hogsmeade, and everything was swell until some fifth-year Slytherin student unexpectedly jinxed me with the Tarantallegra charm. I began to tap-dance like a madman!.. And then it got worse. I was still dancing by the time Fitwick showed up. He did cast a counter-spell, but.. - Charlie covered his face with hands, and now was talking through his fingers. - ...by that time I had already managed to plummet into some mud nearby… I suspect it was porlock’s dung. It smelled all the same. Basically, I looked like a complete idiot ... oh, crickey!

Just at this moment they noticed a group of cute Hufflepuff girls passing by. For some mysterious reason, all girls had their hair gathered in a neat, long ponytail. The tallest gal from the gang stopped and waved in their direction.

- Hee-hee! Hiiiii Charlie! .. How are your legs doing today? ..

The feeling of shame caused Charlie’s face to take on a shade of beet.

- This is officially it. I quit girls. From now on, I will become a druid, go somewhere like Egypt and will only be dealing with dragons.

- Oh come on, Charlie! Don’t mind Francesca! - Y/N reassuringly patted her friend on the arm. - You know, I often see her in Potions class: she hides behind a cauldron and picks her nose, thinking that no one can see her.

- So true, - Tulip signed with her brows. - I bet she’s eating her boogers, too!

The whole company burst into loud laughter.

- But seriously though, - continued Tonks. - Let's forget everything about these bloody incidents and celebrate the weekend properly! Let's visit Hogsmeade, buy some butterbeer….

- Take a look at Zonko’s! ..

- Blimey, how could we forget about Zonkos’ for a split second?..

- Actually, this might be a good idea. I do need a new moke leather bag...

- I”ll get some sugar quills! ..

And so they agreed.

* * *

After shoving themselves into warm sweaters, hats, and mittens, they headed out of the Courtyard together. Bill, Charlie, and Tulip were walking in front, followed by Talbott, Y/N and Tonks. The group chatted about the upcoming semester and wondered which subject will have them writing most essays. Shortly thereafter, they met Professor Snape, grouchily making his way back to the castle, and they started proposing different versions of why he wasn’t around much these days and what mysterious business he was up to. Finally, they had an argument about what kind of festive pudding the elves would be making for the last day of holidays. Talbott betted galleons to Fizzing Whizzbees that the pudding will have strawberry flavor, Y/N voted for lemon, and Tonks - for cherry.

The road was gradually getting covered in white. Snow was sneaking into their boots, and the wind was merrily propelling them forward.

Suddenly, when friends were walking past a small brome grass field (now frozen and covered in snowdrifts), a large snowball glided through the air, furiously whistling all the while. It crashed directly into Tulip’s hood and majestically exploded with snowflake glitter.

- What the %#!*i9&! - angrily cursed the Ravenclaw as she turned around in search of the culprit.

Tonks was standing a little further away, now mockingly tossing another snowball up and down.

- Haha. One-zero, Karasu. C’mon you guys, we can't just walk away from this much snow.

Tulip shook her head to get the snow out her hair.

- Well, you're doomed, you little pink-haired witch! - she yelled and lunged herself at Tonks.

- Look at yourself, you tomato head! - metamorphine shouted in response and dashed away from her friend, laughing uncontrollably.

Unable to resist such good fun, the rest joined the battle, which was about to become the greatest strategic snowball battle in the history of Hogwarts.

They split into 2 teams. While one of his teammates was distracting the others, Talbott would conjure gigantic snowballs and avalanche them onto the heads of enemies via Wingardium Leviosa. Meanwhile, Tulip sneaked up on Charlie using a disillusionment charm; she grabbed his red hair and dipped him into a snowdrift right up to his neck. Bill, suddenly filled with brotherly instinct, jumped in front of Y/N and covered her from a charge of Tonks’ snowballs with his body. This sacrifice, however, turned out to be utterly useless, as the very next moment Charlie doubled the snow artillery in her direction; so much so that he knocked Y/N’s cap off.

At last, they tumbled in Madam Rosmerta's pub as one noisy lump of fun and laughter: cold, wobbly and covered with snow, but lively and carefree nonetheless.

- A table for six, please! - Tonks demanded in a jolly voice.

- For six? M’dears… - a low pitched, cackle-like noise came from a table at the very door.

It was professor Trelawney who tremulously perked up from underneath her thousand and one sherry-scented shawls.

- I think I heard I ... saw that you wanted a table for six? But did you know, m’dears, that the ancient scroll of prophecy specifically says NOT to sit down at a table on the sixth day of lunar December, if you are a group of six? The last one to sit down will lose a friend on the very same night ...

The group of friends exchanged puzzled glances. Of course, no one believed in Trelawney's predictions, but it was still very uncomfortable to hear things like that.

- Here, please. - Madam Rosmerta appeared in front of them before anyone had the time to reply to the terrible omen. She led the group up to a cozy table next to the fireplace.

- Blimey! What rubbish this old blind cat is saying this time? - Tonks hissed.

- Nonsense, like the usual. Every tea leaf class she’s now predicting a painful and a horrible death for just about everybody. Woo-o-o-o! Some dark forces are hovering over Hogwarts… - Y/N mimicked professor Trelawney’s voice and gestures. - But when aren’t they?

- Right. - nodded Talbott. - Besides, no one has died so far.

- Uh .. Well, who wants to sit down last? - Charlie asked hesitatingly.

- I’ll go! - volunteered Y/N.

- Suit yourself. - shrugged Charlie and hastily sat down.

- You don't believe those silly predictions, do you, Charlie? - Tulip settled down on a nearby chair. - Take a look, there are so many people around here sitting in groups of six. This doesn’t mean they will all lose a friend overnight ...

- Numerologically speaking, it is simply impossible, - added Bill and sat down, too.

Tonks sat down next to Bill. Talbott thoughtfully gazed at Y/N for a moment, and then he silently joined the others. Y/N was the last one to sit.

Without listening to friends’ endless squabble about Trelawney's competence, she stretched her legs towards fire, feeling blissfully warm and tired. Today was such a good day. And Madam Rosmerta is about to bring butterbeer for everybody! ..

- While we’re here, - Tulip cleaned her throat, - we need to make sure that there is enough of the wonderful drink for each one of us.

She took out her wand and pointed it at the glasses with beer.

- Engorgio!

The glasses had grown twice in size. They weren’t glasses anymore, really - they were jugs.

Bill raised his jug in the air:

- Let's drink to friendship! - To loyalty! - To honesty! - To dung bombs! - To holidays! - To Hogwarts!

Comfortably nestled at The Three Broomsticks, friends were clinking their glasses and drinking, and then some more, and a little bit more. At last, when everyone started to feel the soothing and flushing effects of the caramel liquid, Tulip grabbed a pack of Self-Shuffling playing cards from her coat.

- Alright, friends. How about we play some truth or dare? - she suggested.

- Since when does truth or dare require cards? - argued Charlie.

- Since today, you silly redhead. Highest card gets to ask. Lowest card gets to answer. I'll start, you chickens... Y/N, take one card, too.

Y/N stretched her hand forward and caught a card that jumped out of the deck. One moment later, the two girls smashed their cards onto the table. Charlie declared:

-Three of feathers and a phoenix. Hey, Tulip wins!

Tulip let out a wide mischievous grin.

- Y/N, tell us the truth then. Marry, flip, kill: Penny, Merula, Charlie.

Bill and Tonks immediately started to giggle and nudge each other with their elbows. Talbott and Charlie, on the other hand, straightened up in their chairs, leaned forward and stared at Y/N solemnly, without blinking.

After some thinking, Y/N tilted her head to one side and replied:

- Okay, I think I got it. I’d marry ... Charlie.

Tonks let out a loud whistle.

- I ... Uuhhh thanks I guess? - responded Charlie, blushing furiously.

- I would flip ... Merula. - continued Y/N.

- You mean you’d flip the greatest witch at Hogwarts? Ha-ha, that’s an interesting choice. - Tulip mightily slapped Y/N on the shoulder.

- Wow Tulip. - Talbott gingerly proceeded to remove Tulip’s hand from Y/N’s shoulder. - You pronounce “horrifying” differently than I do.

- Wait, so this means that you kill ... Penny? - Bill's jaw dropped in astonishment.

-Don’t get me wrong ... - explained Y/N. - She’s nice and all, but sometimes I get this feeling that she’s following me everywhere… and I mean everywhere. So yeah.

- Poor Penny. The sun-like creature who is always happy to see you. - Talbott chuckled. - And now, she has to DIE.

Their table shook from the loud cackling.

Brilliant! - Tulip clapped her hands. - The first round is over. Y/N, you won, now you get to choose who draws cards next..

Y/N chose Bill and Tonks.

- 7 of wands and 9 of stars! That was a close one, Bill. - Tonks’ face glowed up and her hair turned raspberry color. - So here is your dare, William...

- Oh no, no, no ... - Bill grabbed his red hair and started to crumple them.

- Don’t fret, dear Bill! I like you, so I will provide you with options... You can either ask Ismelda for a kiss or... you can kiss a garden gnome’s tummy!

Y/N and Talbott simultaneously snorted into their butterbeer glasses, almost choking on the drink. Bill, on the other hand, looked like someone had just asked him to drink a cup of newt’s goo.

- What bloody hell is this, Tonks ?? - he howled from annoyance and smashed his fists on the table. - There are NO gnomes in here!

- Most certainly there are. - Tonks replied calmly. - Take a peak at that table in the corner.

The table in the corner was taken up by Hagrid. He was quietly cooing with a small potato-like creature he had brought to the pub - apparently in secret from Rosmerta. At this very moment, he was feeding colorful Bertie Botts beans to the gnome.

- Merlin's saint underwear! - Y/N whispered reverently - It looks like Hagrid knitted a suit for him ...

And surely so, if one was to look closely, the gnome was dressed in a blue sweater and coarse-knit socks that were almost reaching the creature's thighs (if garden gnomes have thighs, of course). By some unknown coincidence, the gnome had no pants at all.

Bill looked at Tonks with the most touching expression Y/N had ever seen in his eyes.

- Can we play without the kisses?

- Hey, come on. I'm not asking you to kiss a Dementor, aren’t I? - Tonks just laughed in response.

(read here if you want Bill to kiss Ismelda)

I can't believe I'm doing this. - Bill shook his head. - I'll go out there and ask Ismelda for a kiss.

Charlie delightfully roared "Hallelujah!" and let a few green sparks out of the end of his wand. Tulip, Y/N and Tonks began to synchronously thump on the table and whisper: “Smooch! Smooch! Smooch! Smooch!”... Talbott threw his hands behind his head and settled himself more comfortably on the bench, getting ready for the spectacle.

... As a prisoner goes to be executed on a guillotine, that is how Bill Weasley was approaching Ismelda. The Slytherin gal was chatting with her fellow students at the bar.

- Check it out, it looks like she noticed him ... - Tulip started to comment on the action. - He’s telling her something ... great, they have contact! Come on, come on ....

- I almost feel sorry for him now - announced Charlie.

- Never let me forget this, ok? - Talbott smiled lazily.

Nobody else had the time to add anything because in the next second, the pub was filled with Ismelda’s shrilly wails, immediately followed by the ones of Bill. The girl, as one might expect, went absolutely berserk at Bill’s proposal and wacked him in the eye with all her mighty strength.

- Left hook! Fa-la-la…. A punch to the stomach! Fa-la-la ... And our hero returns ho-o- ome! .. - friends began chanting Bill's name merrily, with no tune or tempo whatsoever, which attracted even more attention to the oldest Weasley.

- Somebody please tell me why I became friends with a bunch of brainless doxies.. - Bill muttered under his breath as he was sitting down. He tried to say it with the most serious expression there is, but all the while his lips were quivering from a suppressed smile.

(read here if you want Bill to kiss the gnome)

- I can't believe I'm doing this. - Bill shook his head. - I choose to kiss Hagrid’s gnome.

- On the tummy! - abruptly corrected him Tonks. - Otherwise, you'll have to redo the dare!

- His tummy looks like pumice, did you know that? It’s crusty and hard and got some weird flakes falling off of it… And it smells just like my Great Aunt Tessie’s feet! - Bill exclaimed in anger.

- Stop whining! Just go already. While we sit here and enjoy ... - one could hear pure delight in Charlie’s voice as he was (for once) telling his older brother off.

Bill let out a sad sigh, got up from the table and started to make his way towards Hagrid. Apparently, the giant was not very happy to see him - the garden gnome would be considered quite a contraband for Madam Rosmerta, and she could forever ban Hagrid from The Three Broomsticks.

- Crickey, it's starting now! - excitedly squeaked Tulip.

The company stared at the show unfolding in front of them without blinking.

- Ah, it seems that the birds started chirping, can you hear? - Talbott said quietly.

- Fountains are sparkling, little hearts are flying in the air! - continued Y/N.

- Oh gosh, oh look! Oh, he’s kissing him!

As a matter of fact, it seemed like the angels themselves started crooning the moment Bill's lips softly touched the gnome’s belly button.

The friends doubled over with mirth. Tonks laughed so hard that butterbeer and snot started spewing from her nose.

But the gnome, as it occurred, did not like being distracted from his bean feast at all. The creature got even more upset as all the boundaries of his personal space were violated, and probably that’s why he suddenly growled and bit Bill’s nose. "Crunch!" - the sound echoed throughout the pub. Bill angrily yowled and burst out in obscenities. Now all the eyes in the pub were watching in his direction only.

- Yeh… What are yeh doing?! Stahp scaring the baby ... - Hagrid said gruffly and hid the gnome in his pocket. - Go back to yer’ friends, now, or he’ll start molting from stress .. And tis’ the worst, you know ...

Bill returned to their table, still rubbing his swollen nose in frustration.

- Oh, hey, Father Christmas! Did you bring us any gifts? - Charlie mused.

- I brought you a whipping, reptiloids... - Bill replied with the most serious face he could make, but his lips were quivering from a barely suppressed smile.

* * *

It was getting dark. While the group of friends was drinking and enjoying themselves at the pub, Hogsmeade was slowly being enveloped by velvet darkness. One after the other, the stars were lighting up. Here and there, windows of little shops and huts were blossoming in shades of orange. The garlands and wreaths, untouched after the holidays, were glittering with frost. Now there was cheerful music emerging from Madame Rosmerta's pub - those were the local musicians. They were playing flute, lute and tambone. One of the guests, who had a pig's snout instead of a nose, joined the musicians and started to grunt and beat on the drum. Many visitors picked up this joyous tune and began clapping and tapping to the beat - slowly at first, then faster and louder. One of the guests - a bubbly witch dressed in a lilac robe and a pointed hat - jumped from her chair, knocking over a mug of fiery whiskey, and began to dubstep dashingly with a goblin in a tweed jacket.

- Wowza, it's getting hot in here, - Bill said, wiping his beer mustache away. - Let's have the last round and head back. Talbott and Charlie, now it's your turn.

- My pleasure, - replied Talbott and drew a card.

Charlie drew a card with a higher suit.

- A perfect ending for a perfect day! As you can see, I'm a man of many talents, not only Quidditch. - Charlie boasted and gracefully ran his hand through his hair.

- Uh, yeah, except that quidditch sucks, - Talbott raised his eyebrows.

- You suck! - Charlie blurted.

- Mmm ... not as much as quidditch. - smirked Ravenclaw in response.

The young Weasley's cheeks turned so red that one could easily fry eggs on them if they wanted.

- Fine. Okay. If you do hate quidditch that much, maybe you’d care more for dancing? I dare you, Talbott Winger, to go out there and have the best time of your life on the dancefloor - yes, IN FRONT of the musicians! But of course I can’t let you suffer alone - sarcastically added Charlie. - Go ahead and invite someone to dance with you… if they agree to dance with a haircut like yours, that is.

Talbott squinted his eyes and examined Charlie’s face in disbelief.

- Uhhh ... I look cool.

- Pffft. Whatever you say. - the redhead let out a cheesy grin.

- I say I look cool. - Talbott replied calmly.

Tulip and Tonks audibly snorted.

- Now then… Who will be the lucky one to have the ultimate all-inclusive Talbott Winger experience? - asked Bill and started to tap his fingers on the table. The rest of the group picked on this beat and joined Bill, making the sound be a very accurate drum roll.

- Hmmm ... I know just who to take on this adventure. Y/N... would you like to dance with me? - asked Talbott and offered her a hand - I promise not to step on your toes more than three times.

- Oh? I thought you “fly solo”... - teased him Y/N as she was taking his hand and getting up from the table.

Talbott didn’t answer, just sighed and rolled his eyes at her.

The two entered the dance floor in an uncertain and shy manner. A new festive holiday song was just beginning. Another vocalist stepped onto the stage, bowed, and dimmed the pub lights with Nox . He then casually flicked his wand, created a few golden and silver wandering pellets of light, and then sent them floating around the pub. Soon, the music began to play, and the vocalist started singing in a heart-warming voice:

Last Christmas, I gave you my Hippogriff,

But the very next day, you gave it away...

Y/N felt that the majority of gazes were directed at her and Talbott - not at the singing wizard. What a strange feeling - to be in the spotlight. It got very hot; she felt a few sweat drops form and slide down her forehead. Talbott looked at Y/N with a weird expression on his face. He seemed to be slightly uncomfortable, too. Without changing his bewildered expression, he took Y/N's hands and placed them on his shoulders, then dropped his hands on her waist.

- Talbott ... I hope you know what you’re doing? - Y/N inquired quietly.

- What kind of question is this, of course I don’t know what I’m doing. - said Talbott with feigned confidence.

- Now I get it. You're winging it, Winger!

Both dancers burst out laughing. The tension was released. They began to move, jump and spin to the beat of the music. And even Merula's screams about how they looked like two prancing warty frogs could not spoil their mood. Maybe they weren't professionals and had no idea what they were doing, but they were having a lot of fun together.

The song ended. To Y/N’s great surprise, there was an applause from the audience! Someone from the crowd even threw them a bright, fragrant bouquet of orchids, freshly conjured from the air.

- For the record, I hate dancing. But it wasn’t all that horrible with you around. - Talbott said bashfully. - Maybe I should have gathered my courage and should have gone to the Celestial ... you know ...

Talbott and Y/N returned to the table, slightly out of breath after the dance and still holding hands. “Two brooos !! chilling at the Three Broomsticks! Five feet apart ‘cause they’re not friends!” - the others hollered and cheered and greeted the two back.

- Will you just shut up?.. - chuckled Y/N as she was letting Talbott's warm hand go.

* * *

It was time to return back to the castle. Friends were getting dressed in silence. All their wet clothes had almost dried up by the fire, and for those pieces that weren’t dry yet, they used their wands. Before leaving the pub, Y/N gave the bouquet to Madam Rosmerta. At the very exit, Trelawney's warnings came back to Y/N. It was so scary to think that on this night, according to the prophecy, she would lose a friend, and so she chased those thoughts away. As soon as the group stepped outside, contrast between the warm pub and icy cold air made them cough. Sniffing and cursing from freezing weather, they rushed towards Hogwarts down the snow-cleared path. This night was especially quiet: there was only the sound of snow creaking under their feet, and from time to time there came a bird’s distant cry.

- Bloody hell, we never bought anything, - Charlie complained in annoyance.

- Well… Let it burn, then. It will just be added to that list of four hundred things I have to do tomorrow ... or the day after ... or after.. or after .... - Tonks answered him with a loud yawn.

Friends were already approaching the doors of the castle when Talbott deliberately started to slow down. He stopped right in front of a path fork that was turning off the main road and leading to the owlery.

- Ummm... I need to send a letter to someone, - he said shyly, milling about the path. - Care to join me, Y/N?

“Hmm .. that’s a strange request, it’s practically nighttime... Something is fishy (pardon me, birdy) here.” - Y/N thought in her head, but out loud she only said:

- Uhh .. okay, sure. Let’s go.

After all, Talbott was her friend, and she had no reason to mistrust him.

The group of friends said their goodbyes and parted ways. Talbott and Y/N turned to the owlery. Tulip was waving at them a very long time after that, until their silhouettes blurred out, enclosed by the veil of snow.

Several minutes had passed since Talbott and Y/N were alone together. They were strolling down the path and talking about all sorts of things that happened during the past few days. The two of them were approaching the little towers of the Owlery rather quickly, and now only a small meadow was separating them from a brick staircase leading upstairs. In the summertime, the meadow was blooming with daisies and dandelions and was serving as a perfect playground for Puffskeins and Knarls. But now, the meadow seemed to have stopped in time: bare bushes were the only thing that was left from thick flowering plants; icy ground was tightly intertwined with fallen grass and wrapped in snowdrifts. Here and there, towered a few cedar pines, spruces, and chestnuts, but now they all were covered with white snow dust. For some reason, Talbott stopped walking towards the Owlery when they reached this meadow, and he began searching for something in his pockets. Finally, judging by the way his face lit up, he found what he was looking for. Aloof animagus beckoned Y/N closer. He was clutching something in his fist. As soon as Y/N approached, he opened his hand; there were two small luminous grains lying on his palm.

- What are these, Talbott? - said Y/N in quiet astonishment.

- These are midnight mint seeds, - he replied. - Professor Sprout gave them to me this Christmas.

- I have never heard of them…

- These are very rare. They can only be harvested once a year from underneath ash flowers. In places where you plant them, blood will never be shed again. - Talbott remarked in a lowered voice.

Y/N couldn’t stop staring at the grains. They seemed alive.

- Don't be afraid, touch them.

Y/N carefully raised her hand above the luminous grains and covered them with it.

- They’re warm! - not expecting that, Y/N let out a smile from ear to ear.

Talbott nodded. He looked straight into her eyes.

- I kept looking for an opportunity to plant them. Today seemed very special to me, and I decided to do it now. With you. If you want to.

- I ... of course I do! - Y/N’s cheeks and neck were rapidly getting covered with blush. - But aren't seeds planted in the fall?

- Not these. These should be planted in winter. They can only be planted under snow.

Y/N and Talbott knelt down and started preparing the soil for the seeds. They dug up a sufficient amount of snow, and then carefully placed glowing grains onto dead grass. They covered them with several layers of grey leaves and twigs, and then put a dense snow blanket above it all. But even through all these layers, the magic light of the seeds was shining through. Moreover, it seemed to have intensified and was now pulsating. For a brief instant, the pulsation stopped, and little blue stars began to emerge from under the snow, where the seeds were planted - similar to mini-fireworks. The stars took off and fell, crumbling and shattering into smaller pieces and dust. But the most spectacular thing that two friends were now hearing was... singing. It was a wonderful, calm and solemn melody without words. It was sung by the grains! Y/N had never heard such music before; she felt how her heart was opening up because of this melody. If someone had looked out of the Owlery window at that moment, then through the veil of a starting blizzard, they would have only distinguished a soft blue light illuminating two young faces floating above it.

The singing ceased; the blue light also faded away. Friends were silent for a minute, as if they were afraid to destroy the soothing feeling that the magical grains have produced within them. Finally, Talbott said in a hushed voice :

- You know, I didn’t actually need to send any letters. I just wanted to spend some time with you but without those dorks. So ... Thank you for being here with me.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he was smiling softly at Y/N.

- It was my pleasure, - she answered quietly.

Talbott rose and brushed the snow off his knees. He then reached out his palms towards Y/N to help her get up, but he did not let go of them after that.

- There was something else. Care for one more dance with me?

For the second time during that evening, Y/N and Talbott were dancing together. But this time it was so much different than it was in the pub!! Instead of all the noise and din of The Three Broomsticks, soft spruce paws were playing them a silent symphony of winter. It was a melody of silence, a melody of bright joy, a melody of snowflakes and wind. This melody cannot be heard unless one would actively try to listen to it. The snow was falling inaudibly. It was cascading from the sky in large flakes, performing a couple of waltz motions with the dancers, and then laying down on the ground and sparkling merrily under their feet. These instants were filled with a sense of miracle: without any magic or magic wands.

- You know, dancing like this is so much better than having to dance while hundreds of thousands of eyes are staring at you. - Y/N noted.

- Agreed.

Gradually, without noticing it themselves, two friends stopped dancing. They were now standing across each other, looking at individual snowflakes on their faces and hair. Every now and then, several small crystals would shiver and gravitate down, but they would never reach the ground as they would melt in a cloud of frosty haze from their mouths. It was very quiet now. Soft light was being reflected from snow and onto their cheeks, flushed from the cold.

- We might freeze this way. - said Talbot, slightly smiling.

Slowly and gently, he unwound his blue and silver scarf and wrapped it around his own neck first, and then around Y/N's neck; now their heads were even closer to each other, connected by knitted threads. Y/N could see his face much more clearly now. She could see glitter in his brown eyes, his every eye lash, every mole, she could smell the herbal scent of his shampoo ... she could even feel the warmth of his breath.

- What I actually wanted to tell you, Y/N, - Talbott said softly, - is that the longer I think about it, the more it seems to me that professor Trelawney was right about her prophecy.

- H-how do you mean? - stuttered Y/N.

- You’re about to lose a friend because I don't think ... I don't think that I can stay friends with you any longer ... I want to be much more than that, - Talbott whispered and leaned over toward Y/N's lips and kissed her.

It was a light, subtle kiss, but Y/N could clearly feel the warmth gently spreading among her skin. And then, another kiss followed … and one more ... and one more.

All the while, the snow was falling - soundlessly, tirelessly, tenderly.

* * *

Much later, after going back to her dorm in the Gryffindor Tower, Y/N had been sitting on a windowsill for a very, very long time. She was looking through a window, wreathed by frost: at the icy lake, at never-ending fields, covered with silver and at the...

First snow.

46 notes · View notes

seungmop · 5 years

Text

KTH - Timewarped

prompt : ( Taehyung x Reader ) You get lost while exploring the woods with a couple friends, this unknowingly leads to you going back in time and meeting the love of your life. The only problem is that, of course, you can’t stay.

genre : romance , angst , time travel au

word count : 5k

muse insp : Christina Perri - A Thousand Years ( spotify , youtube )

note : if you’ve seen this story before, it’s because it was on my previous blog, jungtookthejams. i’ve moved it to this one because i worked so hard on it.

disclaimer : i did my research for this fic, some of the information is true while some of it is made up for the sake of the plot.

---

It was a normal day for you, at first. You woke up in your queen sized bed, rolled around in the soft sheets and comfortable blankets for about an hour, then finally decided to get up and make some breakfast. You ate by yourself, then sat on your couch and watched some Korean dramas.

Just a normal Saturday.

Your friend, Mina, texted you, asking if you wanted to come with her and her boyfriend into the woods for a night. Her boyfriend was into supernatural stuff and the like, so this didn’t surprise you.

Y/N: yeah, whatever. As long as i don’t third wheel the whole damn time

Minass: lmao ok, meet us at the 7/11 at 7pm. We might stay the night

Y/N: wtaf

Minass: u’ll see! It’ll be fun!

Y/N: leave me be, peasant. I’ll be there

Minass: :D

She was really too much sometimes, but you loved her nonetheless. And so, you began to gather some belongings into a small bag to take with you. Your phone, its charger, a few articles of clothing, and your water bottle. With that, you sat back down and waited until it was time for you to get dressed and leave.

* * *

Mina was waving at you from her boyfriend’s car in the parking lot when you arrived. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you walked over to the black vehicle, welcoming yourself to sit in the back seat.

“Hey, Y/N,” The boy in the driver’s seat greeted you, flashing you a small grin in the mirror.

“Hi, Kennah,” You smiled back at him as you fasten your seat belt, getting comfy in the leather seats, “Thanks for letting me come.”

“No problem,” He responded as he began to drive down the road.

“Y/N,” Mina giggled, “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” You murmured, “Glad to have all my projects and essays done for midterms.”

“Ugh,” You friend groaned, “I still have to finish my essay on the Goryeo Dynasty. Can you go over it with me? You’re a history nerd!”

You sighed, “All right, I’ll quiz you on what I know off the top of my head. First of all, what year was the kingdom of Goryeo established?”

“Um,” Mina mumbled, “908 CE?”

Shaking your head, you sighed, “No, no, it was 918 CE. Who established it and was the first king?”

“Oh!” Mina smiled, “I know this one! It’s-”

“Taejo,” Kennah cut her off, smirking, “King Taejo.”

Mina pouted and stuck her tongue out at her boyfriend, making you chuckle, “Correct. Now, Mina, who were Taejo’s three sons?”

“Okay, um, Namjoon, Taehyung, and.. Seokjin?” The girl stuttered, seeming unsure of her answer.

“Yes!” You grinned at her, “Which one of the three was the crown prince, and later went on to become one of the greatest rulers in Korean history?” You smirked internally; it was a trick question.

“The crown prince was Kim Seokjin,” Mina explained, “However, he never became king because he was assassinated before he could, he was age twenty-five at the time. Instead, Kim Namjoon, the second oldest, went on to become king when he was twenty-nine, and he went on to become one of the greatest rulers in Korean history.”

You clapped excitedly as Kennah went to hold Mina’s hand while smiling at her.

“Well done!” You exclaimed happily, “Now what happened to the youngest, Taehyung?”

“Kim Taehyung was more interested in writing and art than politics. The books Professor Choi made me study actually said that he resented being a prince! So he preferred to stay low and work on his art. He was happy, at least, to not be the crown prince. He became a famous artist later in time, but during his own time, he was more of a loner. He still got married, an arranged marriage, but it was said that he wasn’t happy with the marriage and didn’t have kids at all. His art and literature became famous much after his passing.”

“Yes!” You giggled, giving her a high-five, “Who’s the nerd, now?”

“Still you,” She stuck her tongue out at you.

* * *

“All right,” Kennah chuckled, pulling into a section of dirt beside the forest, “We’re here.”

“Wonderful,” You mumbled, “We’ve been in that car forever. Where even are we?”

“Sorta near the border,” Mina responded, getting out of the car with you and Kennah following her, “The Manwoldae Palace, or what’s left of it, isn’t that far from here. Cool, right?”

“What,” You laughed, leaning against the car, “You think the ghosts of the royal family are here?”

“Maybe,” Kennah grinned, looking into the dark forest in front of you all, “Come on, let’s go.

“I regret this already,” You sighed, following the couple into the darkness. But within minutes of stepping foot in the woods, you lost sight of them.

“Hey, guys?” You called out, “Can you come back here? Mina, can I grab your sleeve? I can’t see shit.”

You, however, got no response.

“Guys?” You called out again, gripping your bag in a slight panic, “This isn’t funny!”

Absolute silence greeted you. Beginning to freak out, you pulled out your phone, only to realize that you had no signal. Groaning, you covered your eyes with your hand and sighed.

“Okay,” You mumbled, “If I just turn and go back the other way, I’ll get to the car and I can wait for them there.”

So, you set off the way you came, using your fully-charged phone (you’d kept it on the charger in the car) as a flashlight to guide your way out of the condensed, dark forest. Swiping branches out of your way, plants nipping your legs bare legs (you only wore a plain black shirt and combat shorts with a pair of boots), and getting smacked in the face by several leaves, you attempted to navigate yourself back to the car. After minutes of walking, you became uneasy as the trees seemed to become endless. Shouldn’t you be back at the car by now?

Suddenly, a thick fog rolled into your vision, making it even harder to see. Was it even supposed to be foggy tonight? Hell if you knew.

Squinting your eyes as an attempt to see through the mist, you staggered forward, when your foot caught on something and you were sent tumbling down onto the hard ground. Groaning in pain, you lifted your head and used your hand to blindly search for your phone. The second your fingertips touched the cool plastic of your mint coloured phone case, you took hold of it and used a nearby tree truck to pull yourself up and balance yourself on.

Huffing, you turned your focus back ahead of you and continued trekking, the light from the flashlight on your phone illuminating your path. Or, the fog in your path. The light was useless now, but better than walking in the pitch black dark. You continued to walk, silently cursing Mina for dragging you into this mess until something odd came into your scrutiny.

Was that a.. palace? An ancient Korean style palace?

There was no way, the remains of the ancient Goryeo palace may have been near where you and your friends decided to explore, but no one has built a recreation of the palace, especially not near the original location.

Deciding to shrug it off – who cared? Where there’s any type of palace, there are probably people who can get you out of here – you continued walking through the woods to get to the large structure. Around it were torches; real, on-fire torches. You had to give it to the reenactors, they went all out to make sure it was olden-like.

You turned off your phone’s light and stuck it back in your bag as you approached, there were two men dressed as ancient guards standing in front of the palace gates. One saw you walking towards them and seemed to do a double take before pointing the tip of his spear at your throat as you were about to speak, blood almost trickling down your throat.

The other guard glared harshly at your pathetic figure, “Halt. State your name and business, why are you at the Manwoldae Palace at this ungodly hour?”

Eyes slightly wide, you took in their appearance and words. The Manwoldae Palace was destroyed sometime in the fourteenth century, it was burned to the ground and there was no recreation of it as far as you knew. What were these men talking about?

You gulped, “Um, my friends and I were going to explore the woods a little, but I ended up getting lost. Our car shouldn’t be far from here-”

“What is this ‘car’ you speak of, outsider? Why are you at the palace gates? Do you wish to do harm to the royal family of Goryeo?” The guard with the spear to your throat pressed, shoving the sharp tip further into your skin.

“N- No!” You squeaked, “I- I am simply lost.”

“Lost?” The other guard narrowed his eyes, “Where are you from?”

“Seoul,” You said in response, “I came from Seoul.”

“There is no such place!” The first guard hissed, “I shall kill you.”

“P- Please,” You stuttered in fear, your eyes wide, “Please don’t hurt me!”

Before anything else could happen, a smooth, deep voice punctured the air, “That’s enough, men. I shall deal with the girl.”

You looked behind the guard to see a tall man, his attire obviously royal-like. He looked down at you with a soft smile.

“Yes, your Majesty,” Both guards responded, going back to their original posts. The princely figure made his way in front of you and gently took your hand, pressing a kiss to it, “Good evening, my lady. I am Prince Namjoon of the Goryeo region, under King Taejo’s rule.”

You blinked, your mind hazy. He looked exactly like the artwork done of Prince Namjoon. Was this some type of fucked up dream? Did you pass out in the forest?

He let go of your hand and slid it up to your shoulder, gently guiding you in front of him into the palace. You decided to play along, still not sure what was going on.

“I am L/N Y/N, your Majesty. I am sorry for intruding on your palace so late at night-”

“No worries, Ms Y/N. You are lost, yes? We will make sure you get home safely. Where are you from?” He coolly responded, smiling as you looked in awe around the palace.

Holy hell, you thought, the detail! They got every little intricate detail down about the palace’s structure and decor.

The gold, the candles and torches, the velvet carpets; they had it all.

“Seoul,” You mumbled, still dazed.

“Seoul? I have never heard of such a place.”

Whipping your head to look at him, your eyebrows furrowed, “It’s the capital city of South Korea.”

“South Korea? Where is that, exactly?” He seemed genuinely confused, his expression similar to yours.

“Here!” You had the urge to yell, however you swallowed that urge and licked your lips nervously, “It is far from here. I wish to not go back, I fled to escape my cruel family. If you allow me temporary hospitality, I will repay you with whatever I can get my hands on upon leaving to support myself on my own.”

“I see,” The prince nodded, seemingly deep in thought, “I will let my family know of your presence. For now, I shall lead you to a room to stay and.. Change,” He glanced down at your outfit, making you bite your tongue from shooting a snarky remark in response, instead looking down with an embarrassed blush on your face with a nod.

* * *

You sat on the large, plush bed and stared at your hands. What was happening? Were you really in the tenth century?

Were you ever going to see your friends and family again?

You sighed and slid your hands down your face, biting your lip. This was all too much to take in. Maybe if you sleep, you’ll wake up tomorrow in the woods. Or better, in the car.

Looking over at the nightgown on the dresser, you nodded, making a mental decision, and stood up to slip into it.

* * *

You never did get any sleep that night.

Now, it was a week later, and you sat in the private garden with the youngest prince, Taehyung, listening as he rambled about brush strokes.

“For outlines of things or thicker areas of colour, you use thicker, more bold strokes. Then, for detail, you use a smaller, thinner brush for lines of the same..”

You never thought the loneliest prince was so outgoing and a conversationalist. He was so fun to be around, by far your favourite of the three, and he was bubbly and cute. He didn’t seem like the type to be a prince, nevermind the prince of Goryeo!

Of all your studies of Goryeo, you never imagined it would be this beautiful and wonderful. The doctrines, recreations, and artwork really did the era no justice.

“Y/N? Are you even listening to me?”

You jumped out of your thoughts to turn your head to Taehyung with a sheepish smile, “No, I’m sorry.”

He sighed and chuckled at you, “Always in your own little world. I’m glad my father allowed you to stay with us. You’re different from other women.”

“Oh?” You mumbled, looking down a bit. He hummed and nodded, “Yeah. You’re more straight-forward and easier to talk to. It’s like you don’t care about gender, that just because I’m a man doesn’t mean we can’t sit and have a conversation. Especially despite my status.”

You bit your tongue from making a remark about how people are equal despite gender and that everyone’s human, that no one shouldn’t be able to not have a conversation with someone else because of their gender or status-

“I like having you around.”

Your head snapped up to look at the prince, who was grinning down at you, “You’re not uptight like my brothers or any others from my family. I feel like I actually have a friend.”

You gave him a soft smile and gently set your hand on his arm, “I’m so glad you think so. I think of you as a friend as well, I’m grateful to have you during this hectic time in my life,” You sighed.

The young man hummed, “What is your story? Namjoon didn’t tell me much.”

Sliding your small hand down his arm to set it back down on the stone bench the two of you were seated on, you sighed. Of course, you couldn’t tell him the truth – or could you?

No, not now. Maybe later on, if you stay long enough. Then again, it’s not like you knew anything about time travel to leave anytime soon anyway.

“I am the daughter of a nobleman. He had lots of riches, but he was cruel. Behind closed doors, he beat my mother and I. So, I took my mother and we ran. My mother died during our journey, but I didn’t stop. I stumbled upon your palace and a guard almost killed me, but Prince Namjoon came along and took me in before I could be killed.”

Taeyhung’s eyes were slightly wide, “I see. How awful... I’m sorry that happened to you.”

You gave him a pained smile, “No worries. What happened, happened; it cannot be undone.”

“That is true. Let’s change the subject, yeah? I’m of my twenty-first year, and you?”

It took you a second to realize that he was asking for your age. But once knowing that he was twenty-one, you also immediately calculated the year you were currently stuck in.

Taejo was born in 877, and founded Goryeo in 918, making him thirty-one years of age when he did so. He had his first son, Seokjin, when he was twenty-eight, and Namjoon when he was thirty. Then he had his youngest, Taehyung, when he was thirty-one. That meant that the current year was 939 CE. You bit your lip upon remembering that Taejo of Goryeo died in 943 at age sixty-six, and Kim Seokjin died in 940 at age twenty-five.

All the more reason not to get attached to anyone of the royal family, or anyone of this time. You were going to have to go home eventually.

“I am of my twentieth year,” You murmured.

* * *

You’ve been in Goryeo for a month now. You smoothed out your dress as you greeted Prince Taehyung at a bridge near the palace.

The youngest prince and yourself had grown very close in your time here. You didn’t like to think about it. Especially now that you were catching feelings for him.

“Y/N!” He called, a large smile on his face as he gently set his hands on your arms, “How are you? I just finished an inscription I’d love for you to read over for me!”

Taeyhung wanted to be an artist and a scribe. You saw that the doctrines and biographies of the prince that you’d read did not lie – this was truly his passion.

“I am well, Taehyung, and I’d love to read over your writing. I’m sure it’s just as amazing and beautiful as the last one I read.”

“You flatter me,” He giggled, taking your hand, “Come, I wish to show you something!”

You laughed as he tugged you along, blushing lightly from the contact.

He lead you to the stables, where he let go of your hand and held the reins of a horse instead. The majestic creature had been saddled and ready to go – he must’ve prepared this.

He grinned at you and you gave him a nervous smile in return. Namjoon had attempted to take you on a horse ride a couple weeks ago, and it did not end well. You had to scrub mud out of your hair for fifteen minutes straight.

Taehyung took you by your waist and lugged you on the horse, making you squeak and hold onto the saddle for dear life. He laughed at your uneasiness and hopped on behind you, taking the reins in his hands and gently willing the horse to begin walking forward.

“You’re cute,” The prince muttered, looking down to give you a cheeky smile.

You blushed lightly and puffed your cheeks, “Did Namjoon tell you what happened last time I was on a horse?”

“Yes,” He answered coolly, “And Namjoon can’t ride a horse to save his life. He’s very clumsy, the last person I’d trust to take me horse riding. Relax, I’ve got you.”

You sighed and nodded, leaning back into Taehyung’s chest and watching the scenery as the two of you rode down a path. The silence was not awkward, but comfortable. You felt the young man set his chin atop your head at a point in the ride, and smiled to yourself.

You were enjoying this too much.

Your smile turned bitter.

* * *

Three weeks later, you found yourself in the royal library, looking in the ancient books for anything that could help you get home.

You were starting to fall in love with this place, and you couldn’t allow yourself to do that. You had a family back home, and it would be wrong to leave them. It would be even more wrong to possibly alter history further than you already have.

Your biggest problem, one that you had to face, was that you’d fallen in love with Prince Taehyung.

While flipping through the pages of the olden literature, you found an old legend; a natural phenomenon that seemed to cause something not-so-natural.

It was said that the sun became too powerful for eyes to bear, causing anyone who looked right at it to go blind or have severe sight problems. It happened once in a blue moon, and once, during this strange occurrence, a woman dissipated into thin air while standing on a bridge. The very bridge you met the prince on a few weeks ago.

It didn’t take you long to figure out what this was; a solar eclipse. A partial solar eclipse.

Instead of the area getting dimmer, which it does in the slightest, the sun seems to become more powerful as staring into it can burn your retina and/or your cornea.

If you remembered correctly, this happened over Goryeo on the seventeenth of September in 939.

That was in two days.

Suddenly, you knew; this was most likely your way home.

* * *

Later that night, you called for Prince Taehyung to join you in your room. You paced back and forth until a soft knock rang out, causing you to take a deep breath before opening the door. There stood the prince in all his glory, his face seeming worried.

“Are you all right?” He asked frantically, looking at your appearance.

“Yes,” You responded, biting your lip, “Come in.”

You closed the door behind him when he walked inside and sighed, facing him, “I’ve been lying.”

“W- What?” He croaked, his eyes wide.

“I am not from a place far away. Well, I am but... I am not from this time, Taehyung. The city of Seoul is not that far from where this palace stands, but it is more than one thousand years in the future.” You explained, searching his eyes for any signs of hostility.

“Are you saying you’re from the future? Y/N, did you hit your head or something? Shall I take you to a doctor?” He moved to hold your hands, still worried.

“No, Taehyung. Here, I- I can prove it,” You pulled away from him to fish out your bag and old clothes from where you stashed them all that time ago under the bed, lying them on top of the mattress.

“That clothing, and that bag. They are not from this time. Have you ever seen anything like them?”

“I-” The prince stammered, shaking his head, “No, but it could be from another country. Not the future.”

You huffed and opened the bag, taking out the contents: more clothing from your time, your bright pink water bottle, your phone, and its charger.

“What are those?” Taehyung asked, leaning over them.

You took your phone and powered it on, causing the man to jump in place as he watched the Apple logo appear on the screen.

“This,” You said, “Is technology. It’s called a phone, specifically an iPhone. That rubber-like chord, there, gives it power. See? Tell me this isn’t futuristic.”

The ancient prince blinked, watching as the device powered on, “I.. cannot give any other explanation. I suppose it would also explain why you suddenly showed up at the palace... I believe you,” He turned his gaze to meet your eyes making you smile.

You set the phone down and gingerly wrapped the man in a hug, which he returned enthusiastically.

“Taehyung,” You mumbled into his chest, “I have to go home soon. I have to leave.”

He let go and held you by your shoulder, pushing you back only slightly, “Soon? H- How soon?”

“Two days,” You mumbled, looking down.

Taehyung’s face crumbled as he stared at you with pained eyes. He took his hands off of you and reached into the pocket of his silk robes, “I.. wanted to give you something. I was saving it for.. A little later on, but now I want our time left together to last.”

You snapped your scrutiny up at him, “What.. What is it?”

He fished something out of his pocket and held a ring between his fingertips, it was covered in emeralds, rubies, and other rare jewels. Your eyes widened as he smiled shyly, “This belonged to my mother. She told me to give it to the one I wished to marry. I want to marry you, Y/N.”

You blinked, attempting to register the situation. Of course, in this time, there wasn’t really courting; it was marriage. Usually arranged marriages, like the one Taehyung was supposed to get later in life.

“I’ve grown to be attached to you... And I want- wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. But now, I want you to accept the ring, not to marry me, but to take it back with you and... Remember me.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you nodded, stepping closer to him once again, “I’ve developed romantic feelings for you as well. I tried to push them away because of course, my departure is inevitable but I just.. Can’t.”

Taehyung stepped closer to you as well, so that your chests were touching, and gently slipped the ring on your finger while searching your eyes with his, “I’ll never forget you, okay? None of us will.”

“I’ll never forget you all either,” You sniffled, tears beginning to fall.

The prince gently shushed you, wiping your tears before cupping your face and planting a soft kiss on your lips.

You were going to miss him. You were going to miss Goryeo.

This was going to be harder than you imagined.

* * *

After looking into the books a bit more, you discovered the exact time and place you had to be to leave for good. And so, at high noon, you changed back into the clothes you arrived in and snuck out of the palace, knowing that anyone who saw you would order you to change immediately.

You let the king know the night before that you would be making your departure. You thanked him for the longer-than-planned hospitality and quickly scurried away, intimidated by the founder of Goryeo.

You asked Taehyung to meet you at the bridge before you had to leave, and as you arrived and saw no sign of him, you sighed. You couldn’t wait; it was now or never.

You stepped in the middle of the bridge and looked at the partial eclipse, the bright sun hurting your eyes. You watched as your fingertips began to disappear and bits of solar light surrounded your body.

This was it.

Suddenly, you heard a loud, deep voice call your name. An all too familiar voice.

Whipping your head in the direction of said voice, your eyes widened upon seeing your love running towards you, tears in his eyes.

“Taehyung,�� You mumbled as he hugged you, careful not to knock you out of the spot you had to be in to leave. He sobbed on your shoulder, you would’ve run your hands through his hair, but they, along with your arms, were disappearing.

“I don’t want you to leave. Please... Don’t leave me.”

“I have to,” You cooed, “I’m sorry.”

He released you from his death grip, watching as you dissipated before his very eyes.

“No,” He whimpered, capturing your lips in a needy, passionate kiss.

He let out another sob as he pulled away, watching as your crying figure continued to fade.

“I love you,” The prince whispered, watching you with helpless eyes.

“I love you too,” You gave him a soft smile through the tears.

And then, you were gone.

* * *

It’s been a year since you travelled to the time of the Goryeo Dynasty. You wrote a very successful book titled Through Time, There Was You. You’re currently at a signing event which includes a Q & A session, which is taking place right now.

“Ms L/N! Was there an inspiration for this book?” A woman asks.

You smile brightly and hold the microphone to your lips, “Yes, in fact, there was. A personal experience, followed by the painting done by Kim Taehyung of the Goryeo Dynasty. His most famous piece, of a maiden disappearing while standing on a bridge, surrounded by lights. The one titled ‘Her,’” You play with the jewelled ring on your finger as you wait for the next question, twisting it and running your opposite thumb over the emeralds.

A middle-aged man asks the next question, “You mention the Goryeo Dynasty a lot in Through Time, There Was You. Do you have a connection to it?”

“Ah,” You hum, thinking, “Not directly, no. But I have always been fascinated with it and any of my friends can tell you that I’ve always been a history nerd, especially when it comes to Goryeo. You could even say I went there once,” You grin cheekily.

“Okay,” The manager of the event says loudly, “We have time for one last question. You, young man with the blue jacket in the back.”

Said man makes his way to the front with a microphone in hand. Upon seeing him, you furrow your brows a bit. He looks awfully familiar, if only you could place it...

He has dyed dark brown hair that’s a bit long, like a mullet. Smooth, tan skin, and even lips that curl into a boxy smile. He’s wearing ripped jeans with a silk dress shirt, black Gucci shoes, and a blue Gucci jacket. You’ll hand it to him, he has style.

When his teary eyes meet yours and his voice rings throughout the library, your eyes go wide and you almost drop your own microphone as tears well in your eyes as well.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

You bite your lip as the two of you gaze at each other for a few seconds. You know then; it’s Taeyhung.

You then break out into a huge, dumb smile, and bring the microphone back to your lips, “I do now.”

---

masterlist / rulebook / request

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donatellalejandra · 6 years

Text

I just graduated and that means I literally survived.

Tw: Trauma, Suicide, Abuse, abuse by authority figures, depression, and violence.

School was hard. Like way too hard for anyone to deal with. It wasn’t a fun time for most of it, there were parts that were just me fooling around in a photo studio, but the other parts, in classrooms with teachers who didn’t understand depression episodes, didn’t understand anxiety, didn’t understand neurodivergent folks, teachers who deliberately used fear tactics in order to gain order in the classroom and cause long lasting trauma on children the ages of 7 to 12.

That was school for me. It wasn’t all about learning math, French, sciences, it wasn’t about the curriculum being assigned. It was about getting through the day without feeling like you were a burden, without feeling like you were insignificant, without feeling like you didn’t belong anywhere. That’s what school was like, that’s what school taught, how to survive trauma.

No one helped, I may have shown a side of me in art classes that would suggest I was suicidal in high school, and I most likely was, but when they saw the poems I wrote and put me on a watch list they met my depression and suicidal thoughts with anger and disappointment. The anger and disappointment was mostly from my parents, and the principal at the time had me come into her office to talk about it. I had to say that it was a love poem even though it had imagery of sadness and hopelessness. Had to say this is how I express love. Because that’s how it worked for me back then. I was still a tender nerve after elementary school.

I didn’t know how school worked when I first went into it as a young kid. I just thought you sat in a room and followed what the person at the front was saying. French classes in kindergarten weren’t like that. Mostly because I lived in a house of people who only spoke English and Tagalog, I didn’t know that many words in French. The teacher would say to me that I was to be punished for not knowing what she was saying. I was marked as the class clown for not understanding her. It kept happening as I grew up into the next grades. I’d cry in class asking why no one would help me understand what anything meant, and they would scorn me and tell me, “You should know this by now!! Why don’t you know this already?! Didn’t you learn anything?!”

It broke me. And I was only 8 years old. I was a child who didn’t know anything, but to not ask for help, and to try and get through everything without getting yelled at by someone. Sneak around, forge signatures if you have to, make them think you’re an actual good person. Because obviously if you’re a good student you’re a good person. And if you’re not, well it’s too bad then, you don’t respect or understanding, you just get yelled at.

Moving up through elementary school it didn’t stop, it got worse. Grade 5 and 6 were the points of extreme trauma. My grade 5 teacher would raise his hand at kids who couldn’t get the answer right. We were all scared of being hit by him. My grade 6 teacher was more nefarious with her technique. No matter what you did she would yell at you. If you got the wrong answer she would yell at you and scorn you for being dumb, and if you got the right answer she would scream at you because holy shit one of these dumbasses finally got it right! You would pray that the project was done well, otherwise she would call your name out as she was grading the papers in front of the class, look right in the eye, and rip the paper up 4 times before tossing it in the recycling bin. She didn’t scream at those people, she just gave them a scornful stare. We all broke in that class I believe. I broke too.

I had teachers in high school ask me why I was forging signatures, why I wouldn’t ask for help, why I was doing so poorly. I can only tell them that I couldn’t ask for help, that I would be punished if I ask for help. They would reassure me and tell me I could ask for help, but I knew that I couldn’t just do that. It was engraved in me the trauma of everything that happened before. And in junior high the environment became that of a prison yard. You had to toughen up, get into a few fights, show people you can take a punch, take a hit, and get up and hit back harder. I remember having my face stepped on and my glasses break, and then tripping that guy to the ground so hard the ground shook, and the air left his lungs. It was all in good fun though, right? Just learning to be a man in the school yard. Get bruised, and get scrapped, and get bullied, and turn that trauma into energy to get through the days.

I became toxic. It was a way for me to survive that point. If not, I surely wouldn’t have survived those days.

It was only in my 5th year of high school when it weighed heaviest on me. It was the darkest point in my whole high school experience. It was the time when I decided living was pain, and only pain. There was no hope, and no light, and I was lost. I hated myself, but loved everyone else, so I gave friends my lunch money, or bought them candy from the machine, or bought them lunch. I didn’t eat. I didn’t take care of myself. In gym class I would run the 5k test at top speed hoping my heart would burst, hoping I would just die running, just die in the middle of the suburbs where nobody knew me, and scoop me up and put me in a hole for me to rot. I was falling asleep in class a lot. I was isolating myself more. I just wanted to die, because nothing mattered, because the world only knew pain and how to be horrible. I wasn’t dying fast enough. I didn’t want to hang myself and I didn’t want to cut myself because that would be too sudden. If I was to die, I chose to die in the most pain I can possibly imagine, because it’s what I deserved, it’s what the world taught me. And everything I knew about the world is what I learned in school. The trauma had mounted, and it was the end, I hit bed rock, and there’s nothing more to do, but wait for the day, the day when I was finally gone.

I wasn’t dying fast enough. A voice came to my head and said that. I had to make a decision. Either stay at rock bottom and wait to die, or live a little. I didn’t have to do a lot, I just had to do something, anything, to live. So I decided to try that since I wasn’t going anywhere.

And then I learned to pick myself off the bed rock and claw my way out of my hole. I became part of the play, met one of the most amazing people in my life who I then I called my girlfriend, and now I call my best friend. I have friendships that lasted and ones that didn’t, and the voice in my head got me through it all.

CEGEP had its ups and downs, but it showed me that I had worth, because of the people there who would see me as a friend, and who would love me to the ends of the Earth, and remember me for days to come. My depression, and trauma led me down paths of being easily manipulated around that time. It put a hole in my side from surgery, and it left me understanding that some people just want to control people to their core. I would hit rock bottom again and again, but I would rise up again and again.

University wasn’t something I wanted. My whole school experience was something I didn’t want. My parents wanted me to get a bachelors degree in something rather than start a photography business based on my professional photography degree I worked really hard to get in my last three years in CEGEP. I was living with them at the time so what I wanted wasn’t going to happen. University had its points of feeling like I didn’t belong, very memorable feelings I felt at the start of my academic career. I did make friends, and we all got through it together, but academia showed it’s ugly head to me in those last years more than ever. Not in the form of trauma, but in the form not caring about that trauma. The way academia works makes it so that you have to follow a certain set of rules, and if you don’t, then you don’t understand the curriculum, and since the curriculum has to do with what’s happening in the world that means you don’t understand the world. I wasn’t a child anymore, I went through all that already and understood that what I learned in school was nothing compared to what I was going to learn out in the world. To academia it doesn’t matter if you’re depressed, if you neurodivergent, if you’re disabled, if you’re from another country, if you’re poor, if you’re sick, if you’re family is in trouble, all of it doesn’t matter to academia, because everyone is like everyone to academia, and if you don’t follow like everyone else does then obviously you don’t belong there, or anywhere for that matter. Because without a ‘proper education’ you don’t get a job, you don’t get a job you don’t get paid, you don’t get paid then you don’t get to live, and you’ll die because you don’t matter to academia, because you couldn’t hand in an essay on time, or write a critical summary according to a teachers convoluted outline, or you couldn’t get to class because the weight in your chest was keeping you in bed, or you couldn’t attend school because you had to spend money on trying to survive rather than pay for another semester. There are so many reasons. I know they’re valid, but academia doesn’t.

I graduated from university on Monday. There was a convocation, all us who met the requirements to graduate put on the designated robes, held our barcodes out to the scanner back stage, and once we scanned our way to the front of the stage we had our names called out, our hand shook, our diploma given to us, and a pin as a parting gift. I was happy to see the people getting their diploma, people who I met in different points of my life, who were either customers at my work, who I played basketball with on the weekends, or old classmates, people I used to know from high school or CEGEP. I was happy to see them. The ones who saw me were happy to see me.

They all cheered and say, “We did it!! We’re done!” And I didn’t do that much cheering. I was happy it was over. I held the envelope in my hand that held my diploma, and thought about what it meant to be holding it. It meant I was integrated enough to live in this world, supposedly. It meant that it promises me a good job, supposedly. What I think it could mean is not a congratulatory pat on the back that said, “Congratulations!! You’re future is bright and full of promise!!” It felt more like a receipt, or a document with words on it that meant nothing to me. I learned what I could, but what I learned most was how to survive my trauma that academia put on me. How to survive everything else too, from my parents to horrible people to myself.

This diploma is not a trophy, it’s not a pat on the back, it’s not a good job. It’s a cold, icy breath that groans at me, and tells me with an evil grin, “Congratulations. You didn’t die. Yet.”

#me #text #tw: abuse #tw: sucide mention #tw: violence #tw: negativity #tw: trauma #tw: suidice

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mawichandoodles · 6 years

Text

Beloved Rival (RusAme/AmeRus fanfiction)

My super late gift for @purplepatchwork in the RusAme Secret Santa2017 exchange.

This is my first fanfic EVER. And it’s longer than expected, almost 5k words. I’m a bit nervous, but know I wrote this with all the love. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Patch!

I mixed prompts number 2 and 3 :

“2. Al and Ivan as two rivalling teachers whom all the students secretly ship, whether they find out about this and/or their reaction to it is optional, just go wild.“

“3. Ivan confessing feelings to Alfred while being drunk, can be human or canonverse, Alfred’s reaction is entirely up to you.”

Note: I don't know much about the school system in other countries, so I'm going with what I was used to see during my high school years. I hope it doesn't end up clashing too much with other people's idea of high school.

Note2: English is not my native language, so regardless of research and editing, there may be some errors I’m unable to detect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's Friday afternoon, near the end of the Algebra class, but more importantly, it's the end of the semester. The group is only a few ticks of the clock away from winter break. The only sounds in the classroom come from numb-handed students scribbling on their notebooks, and the mellow humming of the one sitting at the old desk in the front corner.

They are writing a final essay about the content reviewed throughout the semester, what they learned, why it's important, why they liked it, and things like that. Alternatively, they could write a whole manifesto of hate to the teacher, to algebra, or the world in general, if they sowanted. The only things the teacher asked for was eight pages of text, and finished within the hundred minutes of class they had on Fridays, as designated by the group's schedule.

Raivis, sitting in the middle of the front row, looks up at the clock over the whiteboard, a drop of sweat runs down his forehead. He relaxes the grip on his pencil, cue the feel of pins and needles as he stretches his fingers.

"Five minutes," he mutters.

The teacher, seating on his desk in silence, stops humming, along with his calculation of the student's final grades.

"Five minutes!?" A voice echoes from across the room.

A collective gasp and muffled muttering fill the teacher's ears.

Raivis' sight is blocked by a towering figure standing in front of his desk. The figure leans closer, revealing the smiling face of the teacher, Ivan Braginsky.

"Are you done, Mr. Raivis?"

Chills run down the spine of the small student.

"I ju-just... two more left."

Mr. Braginsky kept smiling. He gently places a hand on Raivis' head, and looks him in the eyes.

"The clock doesn't care you're staring at it. Mind your own work, before time runs out, yes?"

Raivis bites his lower lip from the inside, and remains silent. He resumes writing his paper without looking up at the teacher again. Pleased, Mr. Braginsky pats his head and goes on to walk around the classroom, nonchalantly. He happily strokes his red and pink scarf as he walks, the part wrapped around his neck. Not one of Raivis' classmates dare turn their heads towards the teacher.

"Remember this is an optional task you can do, if you want (or need) extra points. Because I don't want failing students. This is my Christmas gift for you. That's why I will take no less than 10 pages of text, as a sign of your appreciation, yes?".

The glasses of the guy sitting left to Raivis fall off his face and on his notebook.

"You said nine!" Says, Toris, who sat in the right corner of the middle row.

"Oh, is that how you say 'eleven' in your native language?" Mr. Braginsky chuckles.

Everyone groans at Toris.

Mr. Braginsky takes the empty seat in the middle of the room, right among his students. He begins talking outloud, tapping his fingers on the desk. No one was sure if he was doing it to distract them away from the last precious minutes they had left or not. He could be testing their ability to focus, to work under pressure, he could just want to ruin their lives (as every teenager thinks about any teacher, ever). They were all too familiar with Mr. Braginsky's subtle "tests" of character. Although they share the sentiment expessed by Mr. Braginsky, they do their best to tune out his voice.

"Uff, it's getting suffocated here." He pulls on his scarf with two fingers. "Who though repurposing a storage room as a classroom was a good idea? Greedy people, trying to save money instead of making more buildings. No wonder you guys call it the 'the Rat Trap', huh?"

A rat trap indeed. Located, next to the chemistry lab, the two rooms were built together in a one-story building, separate but next to the main building for classrooms which blocked whatever sunlight could have gotten through. Thus the room tends to be low, yet suffocating at times. There was barely enough space for fifteen people, and had four 30cm x 30 cm stuck-closed windows on upper walls.

"And the other teachers said 'You should be fine, you have the smallest group'. I'm sure in the next semester, the room distribution will be a total bloodbath. Mr. Jones will fight for the same room I choose, I bet. Regardless I'll make sure we get a better place for us this spring... Yeah, I will be your teacher next year too, hehe." He continues rambling.

The echoes of the ringing bell penetrate the walls of the Rat Trap. As soon as they hear it, most people put their pencils down and start packing their belongings. Some people sight in relief, others from exhaustion. Others shake their hands in the air to relieve the numbness and someone in the back corner starts crying. Meanwhile, Mr. Braginsky gets up and returns to his desk, without sitting down.

"Time's up, turn in your papers. Leave them on my desk here. I'll have them graded by Monday, and I'll send the final grades to you all via e-mail in the evening of the same day."

No matter what face the kids are making at him, with a fatherly smile Mr. Braginsky wishes merry Christmas to each one of them as they leave. One by one, the youths place their essays on the desk, not before stapling the pages together with the teacher's stapler, as they usually did. He put it there for the students after all.

"Brother," mutters Natalya, as she stands in front of Mr. Braginsky, adjusting her white ribbon. "Thank you for your hard work."

She hands a thick bundle of pages to Mr. Braginsky. With a gesture, she insists on him receiving it with his hands, instead of leaving in on the desk. He raises an eyebrow.

"Natalya? You don't need extra points at all. You could have gone home already."

"I wrote you a letter. I don't want you to read anyone else's paper first, it must be that one, okay?"

"Merry Christmas?" Says Mr. Braginsky, patting her sister on the shoulder as she turns to leave.

And so as the teacher begins to pack his belongings too, he notices a girl with pink flowers adorning her head, sitting at the bottom left corner. It is Mei, the youngest sister of Mr. Wang, who also teaches algebra. Hoever she chose not to have a relative as her teacher.

Mr. Braginsky gives her a puzzled look and approaches her. Mei seems to be focused on her notebook, moving her pencil with meticulous dedication. A whole two minutes have passed. By the time Mei raises her head, Mr. Braginsky is sitting next to her, leaning on the desk as he stares at her work with clenched teeth, hidden by a lips-shut smile.

"Don't your eyes get tired of drawing in a place with such bad lighting?"

Mei jumps on her seat and slams her hands on the notebook.

"Mr. B.!" Mei she raises the corners of her mouth in a dubiously successful attempt to sound calm. "You're still here?"

"I am the one locking the classroom door today."

"I didn't mean to make you wait, Mr. B., I'll go home right away."

"Did you take on the final task?" He says, fingers fidgetting, focusing on Mei's small black spot near her chin, probably a pencil graphite stain.

"My grade is fine, as you told me, so I didn't write anything".

"Is it too cold outside or something? Why didn't you leave early, like your friend Lien? Maybe you like my class that much?"

Mei looks down, without moving her hands off the notebook. Several seconds of silence ensue.

"Alright, let me see it."

Mei's eyes widen. Her hands press even more on the notebook.

"But it's nothing," she stutters,

"Yes, so let me see it."

"But..."

Mei sighs, her face turns red and quietly slides her graphite-stained palms away from her work, revealing the semi-realistic unfinished image of two men, suspiciously similar to Mr. Braginsky and Mr. Jones, engaging in what looked like "adult activities". Mr. Braginsky slowly extends his arm to grab the notebook, looking Mei in the eye as if to ask for permission to take it. Mei remains silent. Mr. Braginsky then proceeds to inspect the drawing, now on his hands.

"I have to questions, Miss Wang."

An imaginary knot forms in her stomach. She closes her eyes and folds her arms around her abdomen, anticipating the scariest scolding of her life as if she was preparing to take a fist to the gut. And so she nods in silence.

"Number one: Is that Mr. Jones, tying me up with the candy cane-pattern scarf I got from my grandma?" He inquires, pointing at the goofy scarf he's wearing.

Mei nods again.

"Number two: Did you draw my nose smaller on purpose?"

Mei is unable to hold back her nervousness any longer.

"Mr. B. please the don't tell my brother about this, please don't show it to him! I'm really sorry, I'll accept my punishment but please don't-"

"Shhh Shhh... Can I keep it?" He interrupted.

"Eh?" Mei stopped cold. "Do you... actually like it?" She stuttered.

"Well, no, but I can't let you keep it, much less actually finish it."

"I'm really sorry."

Mr. Braginsky chuckled behind his hand.

"Making a fuzz about this would be a waste of time, right? Just go home and don't draw these things at school. That's my Christmas gift for you, what do you say?"

Mei placed her hand on her chest.

"So, my Christmas gift for you would be letting you keep it?"

Mr. Braginsky chokes on his own breath.

"The gift is not drawing these things at school anymore. Now go, shoo shoo." Mr. Braginsky gestures, still smiling.

"Thank you, thank you so much! Merry Christmas, Mr. B.!" Mei exclaimed. She masterfully ripped the drawing from the notebook without damaging it, handed it back to Mr. Braginsky and hurried to pack everything. She then runs away from the Rat Trap more happy than scared.

Mr. Braginsky is still in the desk next to where Mei was, staring at the confiscated drawing, with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. The rythmic tapping of his fingers echo across the room. Soon the image blurs as his minds simply wanders off.

"But why with Mr. Jones?" He thinks out loud.

It wasn't that Mr. Jones was a man, just like himself. It was that wether in public or in private, they were seldom "nice" to one another, if ever at all. How did so many kids get the idea that they could "love" each other? He didn't understand. Did Mr. Jones say something he was not aware of? Did they do it as a form of mockery? Could it be they noticed something?

"Because I'm the best teacher ever?"

Startled and holding his breath, Mr. Braginsky folds the sheet of paper with the drawing and places it on his lap to cover it under the desk. He looks up to where the voice came, only to see Mr. Alfred F. Jones, the physics teacher. standing just past the entrance of the room, staring back at him. Mr. Braginsky exhales and shakes his arm in a dismissive "go away" kind of motion.

"Ivan, how's it going? Found anything interesting? Said Mr. Jones, with an intentional, emphasized mispronounctiation of the "I" in "Ivan" as "eye".

"Alf," Ivan greeted him, referencing the extraterrestial protagonist of the eponymous 80's sitcom. "What do you want?"

Alfred goes to Ivan's desk and casually grabs the other's suitcase.

"Do you have, like, a stapler?"

Ivan puts Mei's drawing in the pocket of his coat and returns to his desk. He yanks the suitcase away from Alfred's hands.

"Not for you. Besides, I think I ran out of staples after my kids used it just now." Ivan replied with a dry tone. "And I don't want you to lose it or break it with your clumsy gorilla hands anyway."

Alfred smirks.

"So you're admitting I'm stronger, after all?"

"Clumsy." Ivan replies, walking to the door. Alfred follows him.

"Come on, I forgot mine at home. I need to staple my student's papers!" He begs. "And some other documents too," he mutters.

Ivan stops walking and turns to Alfred.

"Show me the papers and I'll staple them myself."

"Ivan, do you really think I'm gonna break it?"

No response.

"Man, the mug incident was an accident, I'm not asshole enough to break other people's stuff on purpose."

Ivan stepps out of the Rat Trap and closes the door behind him, with Alfred still inside.

"Oh you did break something of mine and it was not just a mug," Ivan replies, making noises with the keychain as to make Alfred think he's going to really lock the door and leave.

Alfred takes a deep breath and exhales. He rubs his temples then folds his arms.

"Then will you come with me to the teacher's lounge? I left them there. I have to present some of those papers real soon. I don't have time to drive home or look for one in a store, you know. I'll treat you to lunch if you want."

Ivan opened the door slowly, only enough to poke his head inside, like a shy little kid.

"I'll help, but I'll choose the meal. I don't want cheap trash-burgers get it?."

"F-- yes!" Alfred cheers and slams the door open. He runs outside, pulling a startled Ivan from the arm.

"Hey I have to lock the door!" Ivan complains. And so Alfred freezes on the spot, almost stumbling on his feet.

"Ah yeah, I forgot. Lock the door, then. It's just that I'm really short on time."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The lingering scent of cheap coffee floats in the air within the teachers lounge. The old coffee machine emmits a buzzing sound that everyone doubts is normal but no ones cares enough to actually check. Ivan and Alfred are sitting in the worn out but strangely comfortable couch next to the teachers' lockers.

Ivan had taken off his scarf, it was neatly folded and put on the couch, next to his lap. Under the beige coat he wears a wine-red turtleneck sweater, so his neck remains covered, as usual. Alfred had rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie for the sake of comfort.

They two of them were alone in the room as most other teachers usually tried to go home early at this time of the year. There was a small coffee table in front of the couch, where they placed a tall tower of paper sheets Alfred had been passing mini bunches of paper to Ivan, who carefully stapled them together and placed them in the opposite corner of the table. Within minutes they had picked a good rythm of work.

"So, how did your kids do this semester?" Alfred grabs the next bunch of paper sheets and hands it to Ivan after asking.

"Overall a few low grades but no failed students."

"Well my students didn't get anything lower than 80."

"In last week's meeting you complained that 'kids nowadays don't care about science,' I recall? You called them burger-flipping babies then."

"I was mad at the time," Alfred laughs. "And I meant just the neglectful ones... But okay, my kids got nothing lower than 70. There, I said it."

Alfred grabs a thick bunch of documents and sorts them out appropiately. As he inspects them he holds the documents in such a way that the contents can't be seen by Ivan. He gives the next batch to his helper and leaves the rest aside. A single sheet falls off from them and glides unceremoniously until it lands on Ivans feet. Alfred freezes. Ivan picks it up without thinking much of it until he flips the sheet and sees the other side of the page.

A drawing made with blue ink, maybe from a regular pen. The sheet has some tomato sauce stains, it seems. It features cutesy characters holding hands. A blushing, big-nosed character kisses a spectacled character on the cheek. The artstyle looks like what the quiet and mysterious school librarian would call "moe", as Ivan learned during their rare small talk. As "stylized" as the appearance of the characters is, he grimaces when he gets to figure out the character's identities and feels the earlier situation with Mei kind of repeat itself. All within the same hour.

Ivan glances at Alfred with a serious face, without saying anything, holding the cutesy drawing for Alfred to see. Alfred loosens his grip on the next batch of documents so much they fall to the floor. He immediately picks them up and rushes to take the drawing away from the other's hands.

"I confiscated that thing from a student who was not paying attention," he says after clearing his throat.

Ivan looks down on the mess of sheets on Alfred feet and notices at least three other similar drawings lying among the "normal" documents. After shaking his head from side to side, Ivan stands up and stretches his body.

"I'll get myself some coffee," he says, but when he tries to step away, his foot stumbles on the table's leg and the tower of unstapled sheets is collapses and is now everywhere. Alfred snarls and just throws the paper on his hands onto the table, blending in with the rest of the mess.

"Goddamn it, what a great help you turned out to be! Talk about clumsy!"

"It's your fault for being so disorganized!... And having weird things among important documents!"

"Weird things, you say? Well it's NOT my fault you're so delicate you get offended so easily. I bet you doodled things like this yourself when we were in high school."

"I bet you now wish I did!" Ivan raises his voice. He takes his suitcase and is about to rush out of the lounge, when Alfred talks back once more.

"Ivan."

And so he stops, but doesn't turn back to face him.

"Your stapler," Alfred says, holding the tool with a stretched arm, trying to get it to reach Ivan. Even though Ivan is not seeing, so he wouldn't know.

"It's yours now. Merry Fucking Christmas." Ivan grunts and storms out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The asshole forgot his dumb scarf," Alfred muttered to himself. "No way in hell I'm gonna go give it back to him."

More than an hour has passed since Ivan left the teacher's lounge. Alfred is sitting alone in the couch. Four neatly organized piles of documents were placed on the small table in front of him. The stapler sits on his lap as though and he pets it as though it was a living cat. Not too ago he had finished sorting out the last batch of documents, All of them now stapled together. He leans back and beholds the result of his efforts.

The first pile of paper corresponds to his final reports on the class and its members. The second and largest one corresponds to the planned content to review in the next semester. The third one is made of student's graded homework that he couldn't return to them on time. The last one is a collection of assorted documents and other non-school-related curiousities that had found their way into Alfred's current paperwork.

Alfred reached to the fourth pile. He grabbed it hole and placed it on his lap, not before putting his new stapler aside. The pile contained old tests, some postcards, wrinkly notes about past lessons, some letters from his students from years ago, some pictures, and, who would have though, more drawings like the one that sparked the short-lived argument an hour ago.

The cutesy drawing is the sixth drawing featuring him and his coworker that he confiscated during that semester alone. The first time he caught a student drawing or writing such material he was shocked, almost traumatized, he could have said at the time. However, somewhere along the way he began to find it amusing. Now he would only confiscate material and punish the student if it was being used as a distraction during class. Otherwise he'd even joke about it and keep the students guessing. It's not like other coworkers didn't make similar jokes about them from time to time.

Of course Alfred would have never let Ivan know about that guilty pleasure of his. Not after the things he had said in the past, and has come to regret now. But more on that comes later. Now as he beholds his secret collection he wonders, why is he even keeping those dumb doodles around? In his mind, most of them look like specimens of failed human experimentation, begging for the sweet release of death. And yet...

Alfred moves the fourth pile back to the table and rests his hand on the side. His hand lands on the still folded, abandoned candy cane scarf. He slaps it away and it comes undone on the floor. Alfred sighs lets his body collapse on his side onto the couch, like a ragdoll.

His stretched arm hangs from the couch. Before he knows it, he's grabbing the scarf again. He brings it back to himself and strokes the fabric. He starts to knead it back and forth with his fingers, similar to how cats do when they find a comfortable spot for a nap. The scarf is soft and way more fluffy than its appearance would indicate.

And so Alfred digs into his pocket and takes out his cell phone to start texting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A brief vibration comes from Ivan's pocket on his coat. He's at a grocery store, standing in front of a stack full of small potato sacks. He's looking for ingredients for tonight's dinner. The store is very crowded. He hopes the vibration of the phone is not something important enough for him to need to call back.

Ivan takes the phone out, it's just a notification from the app store, a pending update for one of those annoying preinstalled applications that he never uses.

"I thought I turned those off." Once he places his phone back on his pocked, he puts a potato sack in the shopping cart, next to the cabbage, the carrots, and the onions. He turns his head around, making sure there's nothing else around that he might want to take. He clutches his turtle neck, forgetting once again that he left his scarf back at the school. He had an habit of stroking it to keep his hands busy when he was nervous, anxious, or bored. Concluding the assessment of his surroundings, he moves on to the meat and fish section. It didn't take too long for him to find what he needed, but he now he has to wait in a very long queue just so he can pay for the groceries and go home.

So Ivan stands there, advancing mini steps each several minutes. All the while the speakers around the store are emit obnoxious Christmas carol remixes as dictated by modern tradition. In a way he thinks it's kind of nice. To be reminded that there are other things in life to be mad about, other than whatever spurs out of a dumb, old high school c...

"Hey, sir. Your turn for the cashier," Ivan hears someone behind him on the queue say.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alfred locked his car and made his way through the parking lot of the mall. Both hands are hidden on the pocket of his jacket to protect them from the cold. He is whistling the Ruldolph the red-nosed reindeer song. He was interrupted when someone called him from several meters behind him.

He turned back. It was almost 5pm and the sun had begun to set a while ago. The sunset glare hurts Alfreds eyes and obscures the figure of the person standing in front of it, calling Alfred. He can't quite make out the words the other person is shouting. As he approaches the figure gets clear enough for him to figure out it's just Ivan. He's next to his car, carrying a grocery bag on each hand. Now that Ivan too, has a clearer sight of Alfred, his neutral expression changes to that of disgust.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Ivan exclaimed.

"Excuse me?" Alfred was confused.

"Don't 'excuse me'. Why the fuck are you wearing my scarf?"

"Oh, that. Welp." Alfred shrugged. "It's warm."

The two of them stood in there for the longest ten seconds ever.

"Are you gonna give it back to me or...?"

Alfred clicked his tongue.

"Of course I will." He ripped the scarf off of himself and threw it at Ivan. "Take your gay-ass scarf."

Ivan catches the garment, making sure none of it is dragged on the ground. One of the bags almost falls off, but he holds them well. He doesn't put the scarf back on. Just keeps it under his arm.

"That says more about you than about me." He replies.

Alfred lowers his head, awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.

"Whatever. So uh, lunch is like, cancelled, I guess? Is dinner ok?"

"I'll cook dinner at home." Ivan says. he taps his foot as he waits for Alfred to leave. Now that he got back his personal property he can carry on with his evening.

"What are you gonna make?" Alfred is still there.

"Shchi."

Alfred squints, lips curled a little bit.

"It's cabbage soup, you uncultured swine."

"Eeew. You know, my pal's restaurant serves the best lasagna ever. He's from Italy, you know."

"Thanks, I know. I'll take my sisters there sometime soon."

Ivan opens his car. He shoves the grocery bags in the front passenger seat and gets inside.

"Okay then why the hell did you shout at me from across the damn parking lot if you are gonna be like this?" Alfred yells from the side of the car, knocking on the front glass.

Ivan lowers his window.

"I just wanted my scarf. Saw a red-pink dot in the distance. I more-less knew it was you. Wondered if you carried it with you, but didn't think you'd be actually wearing it. I may be messed up, but you're a total creep. Just go away."

Ivan turns the keys. The engine sounds like it's going to start but then dies off. Both men's eyes widen and turn their heads to the front of the car. Ivan tries to start the engine again to no avail. Alfred folds his arms, expectant, until Ivan gives up on the tenth failed attempt. Defeated, Ivan leans on the steering wheel, his head presses the honk button. Some bystanders a few cars away begin to direct their attention towards them, but Ivan doesn't care. Alfred leans on the car, laughing histerically.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "This is the kind of day that makes me regret being born." Ivan says as he chops fresh cabbage. The knife gets closer the fingers of his other hand and pokes the side of the thumb. Unsurprised, he leaves the knife and opens the nearest drawer to look for a band-aid.

"Look at it in a different way," says Alfred, who's turned back from him. "You got your scarf back, we managed to take your car for repair so you can have it back within the weekend. You don't need to drive to work for now anyway."

Alfred sniffs and grunts, trying to hold back the tears. "I even gave you a ride back to here, which is an hour away from where we were." He puts aside the onions he's chopping and rushes to get a napkin.

"I even volunteered to chop the onions you ungrateful piece of shit." He wipes his nose so the swearing gets muffled at the end.

"No one asked you to stay for dinner either." Ivan puts on a band-aid and resumes his tasks. "Besides, kids who complain about chores don't get dessert, you know," he jokes. He acknowledges Alfred has a point, though. His mood begins to lighten up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a while they managed to cook a decent cabbage soup. Alfred didn’t waste the opportunity to mock Ivan for eating "grandpa food", despite getting a second helping himself. Alfred was supposed to leave not long after dinner, but a couple of cookies and cups of sbiten later, the two of them are at Ivan's rooftop, simply chatting, gazing the sky at midnight. The roof was slightly angled, with blue flat roof tiles. And a thin layer of snow covered the surface, but none of that bothered them. It was also a one-story house, so they were not quite worried about falling off.

Alfred lies on his back. His arms are folded behind his head as a pillow. Sitting next to him is Ivan, hugging his knees with one arm, and hugging a two thirds-empty bottle of vodka with the other. Ivan tries to lie down on his back too, but is encumbered by another empty bottle behind him. He pushes it away with his free hand. When trying to lie down again. His head lands on the bottle, but he's a bit too drunk to care, he just stays like that. That's going to be his pillow. It is to be noted that while there are two open bottles, Alfred has abstained from taking a sip, knowing that he'll eventually have to drive home.

"You know, I kinda regret not studying Astronomy at all in university," Ivan said, biting the tip of the bottle. In the end he had gone for Computer Science.

"Me too," Alfred replied. "But a degree on Engineering for me wasn't bad at all. Not like I'm doing much with it, though."

Ivan reaches to Alfred and pulls his sleeve slightly to get his attention.

"Your telescope still works?"

"Pfft, that thing's been broken for years," Alfred replies. "I never got rid of it, though. I've been saying I'm 'fixing' it for years, but it's just gathering dust in my basement."

"Why cling onto old stuff, though." Ivan takes a sip of Vodka.

"It's not old stuff until it becomes irrelevant, right?" Alfred turns his body on its side to face Ivan. His head rests on one hand. "We still love space and stuff. Hell, we are gazing at it right now!"

"Yeah, even the other club members called us weird." Ivan gulps down the remaining contents of the bottle. "If you want, I could help you clean your basement after I leave the town."

"Oh that'd be... Wait what?" with furrowed brows, Alfred's eyes widen.

"What?" Ivan doesn't understand the reaction.

"What did you say?"

"I'd help you throw the trash." Ivan shruggs.

"What do you mean you're gonna move out of town?" Alfred drags his own body closer to Ivan.

"I'm thinking of it." Ivan plays with his hair, dodges his gaze. He clasps both hands together, doesn’t elaborate further.

"And your job?"

"Teaching has always been part-time stuff. I'm more established as a programmer now. I'm just waiting for a reply from any of the places I applied into."

"What the- Why didn't you tell me about it?"

Ivan turns his back on Alfred. He hugs the empty bottle of vodka like a teddy bear.

"That matters because...?"

"Then just... why?"

"I really want to get rid of the old stuff myself." Ivan replies with a hand his chest. "You know what I mean?"

Alfred stops making questions. He lies on his back again and sights. His breath is visible in the warm vapor escaping his mouth. His glasses become foggy so he takes them out. And so he finally notices that there's no moon to be seen anywhere in the firmament. But the stars were still there, still, beautful, The location of Ivan's home near the countryside made the precious stars even more visible on the darker environment. Even if visible, a full moon would not outshine them that night. He can almost hear them twinkle, if such a thing existed outside of cartoon sound effects. He turns to Ivan. He is seeing them too. They are reflected on his irises.

Alfred hadn't paid as much attention to space and the stars as he'd have liked after he started university. Even less so after his telescope broke down. It was the telescope Ivan gave him for his birthday, when they were on their high school's Astronomy club. Meeting Ivan again as a teacher in the same school gave both of them a chance to get back to those interests, after having to push them aside in favor of their new duties and obligations.

Though that came only recently. Right now they can to tolerate each other, yet at the time of their first encounter as teachers, after separation during university, Ivan wanted nothing to do with him. It was like their time as two territorial chimps posing as teenage nerds was the only relationship they ever had. As if they had never managed to become best friends before they had to part ways. And it was all his fault, he thought; for as early as that reencounter Alfred realized that just like the stars, Ivan too had become inaccessible after he smashed the telescope with his baseball bat.

"Dude, maybe you should go to bed, you know," Alfred sat up. "I should go home too, I guess."

"I'm not done with this vodka." Ivan declared, lifiting the bottle with force.

Alfred slaps the bottle out of Ivan's hands and it falls off the rooftop. The shrill sound of glass shattering offscreen leaves the state of the ground by the house's entrance to be imagined. Ivan glares at Alfred, a few veins seem to be popping out.

"It was empty anyway. Come on big boy, you drunk."

A grmbly Ivan lifts his arm towards Alfred. Alfred takes his hand and helps him sit up. Ivan stands up on his own, but as soon as he starts showing signs of dizziness Alfred holds him. He makes sure Ivan gets back inside in one piece. All the while Alfred is not even trying to hide that Ivan is a bit too heavy for him. But Alfred would rather place the blame on Ivan being "fat" instead of lack of strength or exhaustion due to the time.

At some point even before they left the rooftop Ivan's body decides without telling anyone that it will stop cooperating altogether. So Alfred has to carry him all the way back to his bedroom as well. Ivan's head and arms are perched onto Alfred's shoulder and the tip of his feet are being dragged on the floor.

"What the hell Ivan? You're effin' fat."

"I'm big boned," Ivan whispers.

"Big-boned my ass!"

Panting and grouching, Alfred grouches and throws Ivan on his bed. His legs are left hanging from the edge of the bed after he falls like the potato sack he bought earlier. He giggles from the slight bouncing on the mattress

"Really? I don't want to see and find out for myself," Ivan talks back and crawls his way into the center of the bed to fit his whole body in.

"Shut up. You're the fat one here."

"Don't worry, Alf. Softer bodies are cute too." Ivan makes squeezing motions with both hands.

"You say the weirdest things when you're wasted." Chuckling, Alfred slaps Ivan's hands then hides them on his pockets.

"Who's wasted?"

"You are wasted."

Ivan shakes his head left to right. Standing next to the bed, Alfred leans close to Ivan.

"Come on, big boy, take off your shoes and go to sleep already." He says, patting the other's large chest. "Let's hope you don't wake up all hung over. I'll lock the doors well and turn off the lights, so don't worry, okay? Good night.

Alfred walks out of the room and closes the door. But Ivan keeps talking, seemingly not realizing Alfred is not there anymore.

"Say, Alfred. We didn't use to be like this. Do you still want us to remain as rivals? Even now?"

The door of the room is thrown open. Alfred knows the best would have been to ignore the other's rambling and leave, but he is overcome by a an impulse even stronger than him. His excuse is that he is just making sure Ivan's really saying what he heard or that he's not asking for help for whatever reason. He just stops and keeps listening, though. He is yet to step back inside.

"When I said I regret not studying Astronomy, I meant it."

Ivan is now lying on his belly. His face rests against a pillow, so his words are muffled, but Alfred is able to make out most of what he's saying with little trouble.

"We've been so childish. And it's my fault we are like this."

Alfred is uncertain about the point Ivan is trying to get to. Maybe is just pointless drunken rambling, but he wants to listen still.

He adjusts his glasses and leans on the doorframe. Ivan turns his body again to face the window next to the bed and curls his body in a ball. Even his wide back begins to look small in Alfred eyes.

"I'm sorry for moving back to Russia instead of going for the University we wanted. I left you alone, and told you confusing, unwanted things too."

Alfred's heart becomes heavy inside his chest, his lips shut tight, curled downwards. He steps inside and returns to Ivan's side. He sits on his bed. Ivan face is still turned away from him.

"Since we met again I've been doing as you told me before I left. But it hurts, you know, going back to this after we got to become friends."

Alfred gets further in the bed and pulls Ivan's shoulder to face him. Ivan looks at him with squinty, glassy eyes. It is uncertain if alcohol is to blame for that.

"Don't touch me," Ivan whines. He languidly throws a pillow to alfred's face. "I'm sorry Alfred but what do you even want anymore? You rejected me then, but won't stop teasing me now."

"Hey Ivan I want to..."

"I don't want to like you anymore. You're too much."

Alfred's heart becomes even heavier. So much his body alone will be crushed under its weight. He allows himself to fall on top of Ivan to wrap his arms around him. His glasses fall off his face and on his hand, but he tosses them away. Ivan lifts both knees together. He wants to curl up again, but is unable to.

"I'm the one who's sorry," said Alfred.

He puts both hands on Alfred's sides, but is hesitant to return the gesture. Alfred buries his face in the gap between Ivan's neck and shoulder. Alfred's cold cheeks against the warmth of his body sends chills down Ivan's spine. The skin underneath his clothes get goosebumps. He closes his eyes.

"I shouldn't have reacted like that when you told me." Alfred muttered to the other's ear.

He clings tightly to Ivan's body. His resistance is waning, but Alfred hugs tighter and tigther as he continues.

"I was a stupid kid just like you. I was confused, and sad... and I got angry."

A knot swells inside Alfred's throat, he jitters, his arms and legs tremble, but he wouldn't stop.

"It was easier to hit you and call you disgusting and a traitor, instead of saying "goodbye" and accepting that maybe... I felt the same for you too."

Alfred's lungs run out of air after saying that. He makes a pause to breathe. Ivan doesn't respond. He opens his watery eyes to see Alfred, but everything is blurry in his eyes and hazy in his head. He can't tell if he's dreaming or not, so he too, wraps his arms tight around the other. He runs his hands back and forth on his back. He wants to confirm he's holding the real deal and not an alcohol-induced hallucination.

"Ivan, I didn't want you to leave... I don't want you to leave again now. I like you too."

And like that, the thoughts weighting down on Alfred's heart escape through the air he exhales. Ivan turns his face in and goes for a kiss. He misses and smooches the corner of the other's lips. Smiling, Alfred cups Ivan's face on one hand and joins their lips properly. And it was all great until Alfred noticed the smell and taste of Vodka and remembered that Ivan was drunk as f...

"Wait wait wait. Stop."

Alfred gets up. Suddenly he doesn't feel as heavy anymore. He picks his glasses from the floor and fixes his jacket.

"No good. Let's... try again when you're sober," He says after clearing his throat. However, Ivan was already passed out.

After realizing Ivan's done for the night, Alfred begins walking in circles around the room at a pace so fast he's almost hopping like a rabit. He feels so energized he might as well do it. He cover his mouth to muffle what would otherwise be uncontrollable squealing.

After the euphoria wears off the events that transpired moments ago sink in completely. In a single day did they just sort out years of buried feelings and childish grudges? Oh boy, no. But they sure had one hell of a start.

Now A stream of questions flooded Alfred's mind. With what had happened, does that mean they are lovers now? Will Ivan even remember what happened? If he doesn't remember, will he tell him and explain what happened? Would Ivan believe him and/or confirm his confession?

He doesn't know if he should feel happy or scared. More importantly, he's thinking whether or not he should stay over tonight. It's not like he doesn't want to go home. However, leaving a drunk person alone is always dangerous, even when they are asleep.

As carefully as he can, Alfred takes off Ivan's shoes and leaves them next to the bed. He turns Ivan's body on its side and puts him on a position to lessen the choking risk in case he gets nauseous; although so far Ivan doesn't show signs of sickness. His breath is calm and follows a normal pace too.

A bit hesitant, Alfred decides to check Ivan's pockets, only so he doesn't crush or damage anything under his weight or when rolling on bed. He takes out Ivan's phone and wallet out of his pants and leaves them on the night table. Ivan didn't seem to have anything on his jacket, but then Alfred pulls out a now wrinkly folded paper sheet. He opens it and the more he examines it the more flustered he becomes. Of all the weird erotic art of them two their students had made, that one was by far the most detailed and realistic-looking as of yet.

He could only wonder where did that thing come from. Leaving the drawing together with the other objects, Alfred goes to pull the thickest blanket he can find out of the closet and covers Ivan with it. He rushes out of the room to lock the house properly, makes a trip to the kitchen, and then returns to Ivan with a tall glass of water, just in case.

Alfred leans close to Ivan and kisses his forehead, an affectionate, loud smooch. He sits on the bed again, close to Ivan's legs. The wisest thing to do for now is to stay there and take care of his beloved rival. At least until he wakes up. Whatever comes next for them they will figure. After a day like that, It's not like he will be able to fall sleep anyway.

The End.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Final note:

Writing this was one hell of a ride. This is my first fanfic ever, and I'm not a very good writer when it comes to prose. But I gave it my best shot, and wrote this with lots of love. I'm sorry if the overall tone or mood is too bittersweet or if the humour is kinda sour. I also hope Ivan and Alfred’s backstory wasn’t too hard or confusing to piece totgether. I'd still say the ending is a happy one, even if there's an air of uncertainty for the future haha.

Thank you for reading and for your god-tier patience, Patch. I love your blog.

#rusame secret santa 2017 #laaaate #purplepatchwork #rusame #amerus #hetalia #aph russia #aph america #hetalia fanfic

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faultystart · 7 years

Text

sam’s guide to college apps

note: all of this is based on my experiences! i’m a soon-to-be college freshman who just went through the application process--i’m not an expert or anything! that being said, if you have questions for me about my application process or anything related, feel free to ask! also, this is super long, but i hope you find the advice in it very helpful :)

step one: figuring out which colleges to apply to

perhaps one of the most time consuming steps in the college application process is figuring out what schools you want to apply to! here are my tips from narrowing your potential college list from a few thousand to less than twenty (though i suggest you compile a list of around 7-10 schools to begin with)

- figure out what you want in a college! if you have absolutely no idea what you want in a college, i suggest you visit some close to your home. first compile a list of what objective things you like about a school (location, size, majors offered, etc). also make sure that you could afford the school (use net price calculators to get a rough estimate of how much financial aid a school may give you).

-hopefully, now you’ve narrowed your college list down to a more manageable list of schools! now that you have a list of schools that look good to you on the surface, it’s time to delve deeper. if your school has naviance or something similar, take a look at the stats for applicants. if your school doesn’t (or if you want another source for data), look up common data sets for the range to stats of accepted students. take note of the test scores and other numbers for accepted applicants.

-now it’s time to narrow your list further! ideally, you want to have a few schools you’re likely to get into, a bunch of schools you may or may not get into (around 50/50 chances), and some schools where you could possibly get into (but it’s a long shot).

-so now you have a list! i suggest you double/triple check the schools to make sure they offer your major, are financially feasible, etc.

step two: filling out the common app/applications, and other stuff

-for the most part, the common app (which you’ll probably be using), is easy to fill out. the common app website has answers to some frequently asked questions, so you can look there for clarification and help.

-something that i struggled with while filling the common app were the extracurricular descriptions. my advice: describe what you did! if you were club head, what tasks did you do as club head? what did you achieve? space is limited, so don’t be afraid to use choppy sentences, and a little wonky grammar (i omitted subjects and articles when i thought the meaning was clear).

-also: don’t feel obligated to fill up all the extracurricular spots. put the stuff that really matters to you. you can also put things that may not be traditionally considered extracurriculars (like some hobbies--training for a 5k, for example. you could also put down babysitting your siblings or something).

-there will be room in an additional information section where you can explain things! don’t use it as an additional essay space though! for example, you can use the additional info section to explain extenuating circumstances, elaborate on extracurriculars, explain an award, etc. i used the additional information section to clarify that i dropped an extracurricular halfway through the year.

-if you haven’t asked teachers for recommendations, ask them NOW!!! If you don’t know who to ask for recommendations, asking a humanities/social studies teacher and a stem teacher should be pretty good. but it’s ok if you don’t! you can ask two stem teachers or two humanities teachers--just check the requirements of the schools you’re applying to and double check there are no requirements on recommendations. (i learned that the hard way with georgetown when i needed to ask my spanish teacher for a last-minute teacher recommendation)

step three: essays

-in my honest opinion, essays (especially when your stats are slightly sub-par for a school, or when you’re applying to a top school) are much more important than you think!

-some of you can crank out essays in a flash, and some of you take a while to write an essay. that’s ok! college essays are very different than the essays you’re used to writing in school. you may have heard this before, but show, don’t tell! that doesn’t mean use purple prose, but don’t just say that something happened or you felt a certain way.

-generally, when you write a college essay, you want to start with an anecdote of sorts, something that is interesting enough you don’t lose the reader’s attention, yet still relevant to the topic. for example, i started an essay with “music is my time machine”, it was an essay about music and memory, and how listening to a certain song brings me back to when i was nine and listening to that song for the first time. (hope you guys didn’t mind me using my essays as examples)

-after your little anecdote, you want to get into the meat of the essay: answering the question. personally, i prefer to use one or two anecdotes to answer a personal essay question, but for ‘why school/major’ essays, it’s easier just to explain.

-after answering the question, if i have some word space left over, i’ll try to come back to the anecdote again! keep in mind though, you do not need to follow this structure i suggested here! college essays are a place to show who you are--don’t let someone else’s suggestions dictate what you say.

-that being said, you do want some other people to look over your essays. they may catch some funky grammar or weird sentences that you don’t see. i found i got the best feedback when my friends looked over my essays! as the college app season gets closer and people start writing essays, i may be willing to look over some people’s if they’d like me to ;)

-speaking of essays, the common app essay is a bit special. it’s super important, since it is sent to all your essays. since the prompts are so open ended, finding the topic/what you’ll write about can be really tricky. I suggest you think of one of two qualities you really want to shine through in your essay, and think of some anecdotes that showcase these character traits. (this is also good advice on brainstorming what to write about in general)

-sam’s special tip for writing a good essay that’s ‘you’: write out an essay without really thinking hard about what you say. i found the essays that best conveyed a passion or were the most ‘me’ were the essays that were almost a stream-of-consciousness. don’t worry about word count or grammar or word choice--first, just get your ideas on the page.

part 5: miscellaneous

-while websites like collegeconfidential and r/applyingtocollege can be kinda toxic and nasty (and make you feel insecure about your accomplishments--avoid the collegeconfidential ‘chance me’ forums), they are also great resources. on r/applyingtocollege, you can find bits of advice from admissions officers and people much more experienced on college admissions/applications than i am

-in the whirlwind of first semester senior year and college applications, take some time to relax!

-don’t procrastinate. don’t do it, please. you will regret it when it’s winter break and you’re scrambling to finish 5 essays in two days.

-know your deadlines!!! some people find it handy to keep all information in a google spreadsheet or something, but i preferred to keep dates in a physical one.

-send in test scores asap!!! check each college’s website to find out their act/sat code, make use of the free score reports you get after the sat, and triple check if that college requires you to send in all scores or not.

part 6: some last notes

-a bit about me, for reference: i’ll be attending nyu, but i was accepted to a total of 7 schools (accepted off the waitlist at one of them--a top 20 university). i was waitlisted then rejected at two other top 20 universities, and rejected at a lot of colleges (so i have a bunch of experience dealing with that).

-if you made it all the way through this overly long, somewhat rambling post, thank you so much for reading this!! like i mentioned up above, feel free to shoot me any questions you have about my college app experiences, applying to college, etc! i love to give advice to others :”)

#college #college apps #appblr #studyblr #my content #advice #masterpost #tips #college applications #warning: long post #i hope yall find it helpful bc i spent like 3 hours on this thing

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easiestwaytoloseweight · 5 years

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Book Reviews Part 2 Non-Fiction Audible books – Podcast 115

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | Android | Google Podcasts | Stitcher | RSS

Today I’m sharing 11 non-fiction books that are a very interesting mix. The list includes books that can be considered among the BEST ever written, interesting stories, sad ones and funny books! Something for everyone! And I’m trying this new thing – Review in 2! I’m going to review all the books in 2 minutes or less – each, not total! I have a lot!

Follow @RunEatRepeat for more and check out RunEatRepeat.com for the show notes and links to all the books mentioned.

Let’s start with a warm-up:

Updates…

I have the Samsung Galaxy Note phone… I love it because it’s big and I’ve always used an android. But… I wanted the apple ear buds… air pods… ear pods?

I was thinking about changing phones for that reason alone! But – I spotted the Samsung Galaxy Buds and my life has been better ever since (2 weeks ago).

I recommend them!

I recently updated RunEatRepeat to be easier to navigate – it seemed like it was hard to search on mobile. So I changed the homepage to break down the blog posts, recipes, podcast posts, training plans and discounts page.

Please let me know if it’s the worst. I’m open to constructive feedback and suggestions!

I’m supposed to ask you for a favor… can you give me a ride to the airport at 5am next Tuesday?

No? Oh, okay.

Well instead – Can you please leave a 5K review for the podcast in your podcast app. I use Stitcher so I only know how to walk you through that… but whatever you’re on right now – I’d appreciate it.

And be sure to subscribe to the show by adding it to your favorites or whatever so the episodes show up auto-magically and you never miss a beat! Thank you!!

Top Non-Fiction Books Review Podcast…

The review of a book shouldn’t be longer than the actual book, right? Right. So I’m going to try and keep it short by reviewing all of these books in 2 minutes. I call it a Review in 2!! As in 2 minutes. Because it rhymes. If ‘Review’ rhymed with 9 it would be a nine minute review…so thank Mr. Webster or whoever made up the word ‘review’ for that one.

You can see my previous podcast episode 114 with Fiction Book Reviews here.

Let’s go…

Book Review Scale… 1 to 5

1 = Didn’t like it. Didn’t want to finish it. Wouldn’t recommend.

2 = Assigned reading. Tedious.

3 = Okay. Either – good story w/ okay writing OR meh story w/ good writing.

4 = Good! Liked it. Would recommend.

5 = Great! Loved it. Will recommend/force on everyone I talk to for a week after reading it.

Non Fiction Books on Audible

Born a Crime: Stories from a South African childhood

by Trevor Noah

Rating: 4.5

Great. Loved this book. Loved that Noah read it – he was fun and animated. Love learning about his experience growing up in South Africa. Thought it was very interesting how he was treated differently because he was light skinned.

Becoming

By Michelle Obama

Rating: 5

Loved. Love that she read the book. Love the insights into behind the scenes of the White House. I can’t imagine! I want more of that. All the little things that completely changed – like taking her daughters to school and going out to dinner – so interesting!

Educated

by Tara Westover

Rating: 5

GREAT. Also – heartbreaking and horrible. Ugh. I got so mad. If I think about it I’ll be mad again. I’m really upset with her parents. I cannot believe her brother.

I’m going to give a spoiler: He adult brother KILLS his dog Diego. Stabs him to death. I hate it. It’s bullshit and he’s a violent person with an anger issue that’s a ticking time bomb.

The Glass Castle

by Jeannette Walls

Rating: 5

Heartbreaking and frustrating. The reader’s voice sounded like my mom’s friend so it was a little distracting though. There’s an interaction with her mom towards the end that’s super frustrating.

Small Fry

by Lisa Brennan-Jobs

Rating: 3.9 while reading it… but later 4.

Go-kay. While I was listening to it I didn’t really love it. I text my bookie friend and she said she liked it. So I decided to make a bigger effort to give benefit of the doubt. As the book went on I started to like her more.

Maybe You Should Talk to Someone

by Lori Gottlieb

Rating: 4.5

Great. So interesting to hear about a therapist going to therapy. BUT didn’t think it was super believable that she struggled over basic things like… does her therapist like her?…

I Might Regret This: Essays, Drawings, Vulnerabilities, and Other Stuff

by Abbi Jacobson

Rating: 4.3

Great. I loved it, but it was too short. If you’re a fan of Abbi Jacobson you’ll like this. It feels like you’re on a road trip with her just chatting. I wish there was more.

Man’s Search for Meaning

By Viktor E Frankl

Rating: 5

Amazing. Perspective yo.

Road to Jonestown

by Jeff Guinn

Rating: 3.4

Okay. Read this because I wanted to start a book club with my 1 friend and he was already reading it. I didn’t know anything about Jonestown before reading it – and I think that was a drawback. A lot of the book told the story about Jim Jones and how he built his church and following in the US. It wasn’t interesting. It was like a boring history lesson at times? And if I would have known this guy is going to lead a cult and kill a bunch of people… maybe in that context he’d be more interesting.

You’ll Never Blue Ball in This Town Again

by Heather McDonald

Rating: 4.3

Life is a Marathon

by Matt Fitzgerald

Rating: 4.8

Unexpected life story from a running coach sharing his life, relationships and running.

You can click here to check out all the books on this list and more on Amazon: Books – Reading or Listening on the Run.

Currently Listening to…

Big Little Lies – by Liane Moriarty

and Getting the Love You Want – by Dr. Harville Hendrix and Dr. Helen LaKelly Hunt

Want more reading or listening suggestions?

Podcast 114 – Fiction Book (Audible) Reviews

Podcast 111 – Reviewed Ladies Who Punch and Duped (both non-fiction)

What books should I read next?

If you have any book recommendations please share them!!

Comment on my IG post about this episode or DM me!! I like interesting non-fiction, light mysteries but nothing super violent, funny books, books that will change my life and make me a better person.

Awards:

Last place: Me.

If you have a question for me…

email [email protected] or

call the podcast voicemail 562 888 1644

Remember to tag @RunEatRepeat on instagram and let me know what you’re doing right now or what was the BEST part of your month so far.

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knockoutlives · 7 years

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Are You Ready To Wake Up?

It was okay to be a few minutes early but being this early was out right unfashionable. The room before him was completely empty. Oh well, he would survive this “faux pas”. In the academic setting he rarely worried about how he appeared to others. To be clear: he was always going to look nice. Today for example, he wore a medium washed pair of Saint Laurent jeans, a pale pink button up shirt courtesy of his mother’s new fashion line, and matching gray shoes and blazer both from a Michael Kors collection.

His hair was also purposely styled to show they he gave effort but not “too much” effort. Whatever that was. He would always give a large amount of weight to his physical appearance but his social appearance tended to take a back seat when he was in the world of writing or between the walls of a school building. Here he relaxed and let his work do all the talking.

Blaise took a seat towards the back of the room and set his brown leather satchel next to him. According to his phone, he still had about twenty minutes to kill before anyone showed up. He really should have stopped for a coffee before he came. In fact, he had enough time to enjoy a good pairing of espresso and biscotti. He rarely passed up the chance to munch on a pastry coffee combo and of course today just had to be one of those occasions.

Determined not to wallow in his awkwardly earliness, he rummaged through his satchel until he emerged with an eyeglass case and a book of The Best American Essays. This class was assigned the 2016 edition as one of its required reading texts but the one Blaise held in his hands was an older edition, a little worn, from the year in which he himself was a student in his class.

Back when he was undecided, his parents gunned for something practical like accounting or business but in his gut he knew those weren’t the right fit. It wasn’t until he thumbed through the pages of this essay book, highlighting and jotting little notes, did he realize that writing was the path he should take. It seemed fitting that on the day he turned from student to master that he would do so with this book in hand.

Blaise slid on his reading glasses and proceeded to dive into his book. The glasses were a fairly new bi-product of aging. He was not yet thirty but his near perfect vision insisted on decaying. In the back of an abandoned lecture hall, Blaise could afford to care more about the content of his book than how dorky he looked in his new spectacles. He managed to get through a whole essay before he a vibration from his cell phone pulled him back into the real world.

Adam Everett has uploaded a new photo to Facebook

Blaise smirked knowingly at the notification. His cousin Adam rarely posted on social media and when he did it was usually about his budding romance with a silver haired guy named Spencer. Although he teased his cousin relentlessly about being a hopeless romantic, Blaise himself could not help rooting for two people in true love. He clicked on the notification to see the latest “Spadam” adventure.

Once the notification was opened, several thumbnails of photos flooded the phone screen. The “new photo” of interest was actually a part of a photo set entitled “Hot Chocolate Rune Winter 5k” which contained about twelve photos. Scoff. Prior to Spencer, Adam was definitely not a photoset type of person. Still, Blaise continued down the rabbit hole of sappiness and clicked on the first picture of the set. It was a selfie of sweaty damp haired Adam and the flawless silvered haired Spencer just after Adam finished his race. The next photo was one of Adam by himself holding his racing number and the photo after showed him just as he was crossing the finish line. Most of the remaining photos alternated between the race itself and cute selfies of the happy couple. The second to last photo, however, featured a group picture with Adam and his friends including...Troi Bentley

Pining: An Interlude (Draft One)

ive feet away from me you stand. A goodbye on your lips you need not to utter because the remnants of the last goodbye still echo in my ears. Please stay right where you are so we can be suspended in a world in which I don’t have to watch you turn away. I don’t want to see your disappearing act again. Especially if this is the grand finale and you will never return to this stage. I do not know if I can bare to end this show. I do not know if I can bare to see you with a different leading man by your side...Five feet away from me you stand. You make it seem so far...

The words to an old piece of prose poured into Blaise’s head as he took in a picture of its muse. A refined draft of this piece appeared in his senior portfolio years ago, but the words embossed in his brain were from the original version. Blaise jotted down draft one after a particularly ominous evening with Troi Bentley. Somehow that night was not the complete end and they found themselves drifting back toward each other again and again.

This photo of Troi and Vinny emphasized there would be no return to Troi this time. Or ever. Blaise figured their permanent ending was ultimately for the best. After all, the pining boy needed to be set free and the disappearing boy needed to go back to the one person who could make him stay and remain visible. Blaise paused on the picture for a couple of more beats until he digested this odd feeling that was not quite jealousy.

“Mr. Monroe?” A familiar female voice called for Blaise’s attention. He looked up to see Ms. Elizabeth Martin standing a few feet away from him. The perfect subject on which to purge the words that still clouded his brain.

“Five feet away from me you stand…” Blaise started, “ Please stay right where you are. Let’s stay suspended in a world in which I don’t have to watch your eyes flicker away as they allude to your impending disappearance…” He stood and walked towards her as he recited what he remembered from a slightly newer draft of his prose. When made sure to finish bridging the gap between them just as his piece also came to an end.

Ms. Martin stared at him in contemplation until something clicked. “‘Pining: An interlude?” she asked.

“I knew you were in love with me,” Blaise smirked. “What kind of TA can hear random lines from a student’s work and still identify the piece years later?”

“One who has a substantial memory,” Ms. Martin retorted and turned to take her place at the podium in front of the room. Blaise went back to retrieve his items as well as to cast his reading glasses into hiding. With all his belongings properly organized, he claimed a new spot near Ms. Martin as other mentors and students began to come in.

“As I was saying, it is okay to admit you had a crush on me. You aren’t my TA anymore. I promise you won’t get in trouble.” Blaise’s teasing solicited a subtle eye roll from Ms. Martin. She was not particularly upset or annoyed as much as eye rolling felt like a perfectly natural response to Blaise’s nonsense. “C’mon Liz. You’re attractive, I’m attractive. You’re intelligent. I’m intelligent. We’ve both got the writing thing going on. It’s only natural. Let me take you out to dinner- lunch even. And if you can resist me by the end then fine we’ll still have our great working relationship.”

Ms. Martin, the multi-tasker, had been using the time during Blaise’s monologue to finalize the list of mentor/mentee pairings. She peered over at him from the list once his rambling had came to an end. “You know Mr. Monroe...I am seeing Larry.” She was sure mentioning Lawrence Fisher, a new professor within the English department with whom she went on numerous dates over the past couple of months, would force Blaise to take things down a notch. She should have known better.

“Larry, oh right. He can come too. You know I swing both ways,” he playfully winked at Ms. Martin.

“And that is my queue to get things started.” A somewhat embarrassed Ms. Martin turned her attention toward the classroom that now had full attendance. After a brief introduction and some further instructions she began to call out pairings. “Mr. Joshua Depola and Mr. Blaise Monroe…”

Blaise smiled and scanned the room for his match. Luckily, even without a raised hand, Joshua would have stood out. There were only a few male students taking the class and no one else had such a rich orange-red set of locks. He gave a nod to acknowledge the raised hand and Ms. Martin continued to call out the pairings. But wait, had she really said Joshua Depola or was it his discovery of the unsettling picture earlier that was warping his perception. He would find out soon enough. Either way, he would also make sure to approach the kid with an open mind. It was his duty as a mentor.

One all of the pairings were announced, Blaise collected his bag, thanked Ms. Martin for putting up with him, and headed over to where his mentee was sitting. Up close, the younger male was a little cuter than expected and had an aura of...broodiness maybe. Not to worry, Blaise encountered many broody types in his world of art and writing.

“Hi, I’m Blaise Monroe,” he introduced himself and extended his hand for a handshake. “Can I buy you a coffee? I have a good place in mind that is not too far from here.” Getting to know his mentee while sipping coffee at his favorite cafe seemed like a win-win.

#JoshDepola #BlaiseMonroe #Jaise #AreYouReadyToWakeUp?

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