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pheonixgrave · 9 months

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Softer Now (18+)

Ahh! You guys seem to be really enjoying these. I realized I was just writing the same Tav so there's that

Warnings: Soft smut, definite voyeurism, a decent amount of blood drinking, Soft!Astarion, pre-Act III, post-Act II

“Aren’t you just a little jealous?” Karlach asked, joining Astarion near the stash of wine they found.

“Why would I be jealous of the walking encyclopedia?” He smirked, watching a certain elf interact with a certain wizard.

“Oh c’mon! He’s flirting with her and you two are a thing, right?”

“I find it rather charming, actually,” he took a swig of the awful wine in his hand.

The Tiefling looked from the vampire spawn to the pair looking over some old tome whose name no one else could pronounce. “Charming?”

“Let me tell you what I see,” he set the bottle down to face the barbarian. “To you and I, Gale is obviously flirting. In a very clumsy manner, but flirting all the same. Our fearless leader, however, has no idea. To her, he is as much of a friend as Wyll or Shadowheart. Yet, he keeps trying because he has no clue that she simply isn’t flirting back.”

“That doesn’t make you angry?”

“Of course not!” He laughed, “I can barely believe he managed to bed a goddess with how he flirts.”

“It does seem pretty out there, as far as stories go,” Karlach crossed her arms and continued to watch the pair.

“Anyways, I know there’s no competition.”

She smirked, “You do sound a teensy bit jealous.”

“My dear, I do not get jealous.” The more he thought about it, the more pause it gave him. Their resident wizard does try to hold her attention more often than he should. But Tav’s time was her own. He knew he had nothing to worry about. After everything they’ve been through, he couldn’t imagine her changing her mind at the last moment. Right?

Tav, on the other hand, was enjoying pouring over the old tome they had found. It gave some interesting insight into Illithids and their reasonings. Unfortunately, she was unable to read the language it was written in. She was thankful for Gale in that sense. Who knew he spoke Deep Speech? Granted it was written in Espruar but the script itself was odd. The wizard had helped her decipher a few pages about psionic energy and how they have mastered it. It truly was fascinating.

“This is nice,” Gale spoke from next to her. He was holding the dusty tome in his hands with the bard sitting near him, using her mage hand to scribble any notes she’s taken.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, “I suppose it is! I’m very happy we found this book.”

“It truly is remarkable,” he swallowed, “It’s also a nice excuse to spend more time together in the midst of all this madness.”

“Oh! I suppose it is nice to sit with everyone.” She didn’t fail to notice him scoot slightly closer. Just a hair between them now.

Gale closed the book and turned to look at the elf next to him. “I’m afraid I must ask you something.”

Something in Tav’s mind warned her to walk away. But she was still getting used to that voice, so she elected not to listen to it. This was Gale. This was her friend. “What’s on your mind?”

He grabbed her hands in his, “I have noticed you and Astarion getting rather close recently.”

Tav wasn’t sure how to react. She was already flustered by the sudden turn of the conversation. She was more than happy to keep speaking of the Illithid empire. “Where are you going with this, Gale?”

Gale’s eyes never left hers. It was like he was trying far too hard to bear into her soul and she simply…didn’t want him to. “I told myself it was casual, not a matter of the heart but…clearly I was wrong and it looks like I am the last to know. I know how close you two have gotten, I just thought you would show me the respect of telling me first.”

The Elf’s jaw dropped, “Tell you? Tell you what?”

“But you can tell me now. Who is it to be? Me or him?” The look in Gale’s eyes was nearly as serious as when he was told he’d have to become a bomb.

“What exactly am I choosing here?” Tav blinked, glancing down at the wizard’s hands that completely enveloped hers. It took her a moment before her brain caught up. “Oh! Oh, Gale! I had no idea you felt this strongly.”

A glimmer of a smile reached his face, “Well, perhaps I should have done more. Been more charming, more flattering, harder to reach…but I was only myself. Sometimes that just isn’t enough.” His face dropped looking at hers, “Whatever your decision is, I will respect it. But you must choose. You cannot have us both.”

Tav made a choked sound in the back of her throat before clearing it. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I think it’s for the best that we aren’t involved like that. I want to be with Astarion.”

“I see. I suppose he does have a certain charm about him, if you’re into that sort of thing.” He sighed, “I’ll just put my feelings to one side. I think that’s best for everyone. It’s certainly the best thing for me. I won’t leave, unless you want me to. Or until fate forces my hand, your friendship is all we have. And I will be happy to have it, eventually.”

Tav’s heart broke for the man. It must be quite painful to not have those feelings returned. For a moment, she thought about what she would do if Astarion ever stops feeling the things he says he feels for her. And the thought almost brought tears to her eyes. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she couldn’t hide the crack in her voice. But Gale was never going to be the cause of it.

“Worry not. I carry my regrets wherever I go and I am used to their weight. One more will not break my back.” He gripped her hands one final time before she pulled away.

She gave him a sad smile before walking over to where Karlach and Astarion stood. Grabbing the bottle from Astarion’s hands, she drank deep for a moment. They both glanced at each other before turning back towards the Elf. She handed the bottle back to him before smiling at Karlach, “Is there anything you have to admit to me? Any deep romantic feelings or attachment?”

Karlach laughed, “What? No, soldier!” She put her still warm hand on the much smaller elf’s shoulder. “You’re a dear friend. More than that, you’re family.”

Tav’s shoulders dropped, “Oh thank the Gods.” She turned to Astarion who was watching her with raised eyebrows, “Bed?”

The moment they were inside his tent, she buried her face in his chest with her arms wrapped so tightly around his waist. “Darling, what’s wrong? Did the mean mage say something he shouldn’t have?”

She didn’t want to pull far enough away to answer him. She didn’t want him to see her start to cry. She just shook her head and held him as close as she could. She wasn’t sure how to process these feelings. The vampire spawn just wrapped his arms around her trembling form.

“You don’t have to say anything, just nod your head. Did Gale hurt you in any way?” She could hear the growl in his voice. It sounded more dangerous than normal.

She pulled away with a deep inhale. She looked up at him with tears already streaming down her face. With a sniffle she whispered, “Gale admitted he had feelings for me, yes. But then I thought about how miserable life would be without you in it.”

Astarion froze, his body tensed. “So let me get this straight,” he swallowed, more nervous than he’s ever really been before. “You told Gale you’re not interested just to be with me? I do come with my complications, my love.”

She let out a breathy laugh, “I told Gale I’m not interested because I’m simply not interested.” Her hand reached up to stroke his cheek, “I just don’t ever want to imagine a life without you again. A world where you’re not with me. Because you’ve always been near, even if I didn’t know it.”

He remembers the night he told her about Cazador. The night he told her about the Szarr palace was also the same night she had told her about her tower. And how she could see the palace from her desk. It was true, they really have always been close in one way or another. “And you got that worked up because…?”

“I wouldn’t even know what I was missing,” she smiled at him, eyes still full of emotion. “You’ve been all of my firsts. First kiss, first night together. Hells, the first time I’ve held someone's hand was with you. This is all still very new to me. And the moment I thought about you not being with me I-” she let out a choked sob before gripping his shirt in her fists and burying her face in his chest once again.

For a moment, the vampire spawn didn’t react. It still takes him a moment to return affection but he managed to wrap his arms around the trembling bard. He swallowed before gently rubbing the small of her back. The thought of someone wanting him this badly was…daunting, to say the least. He knew if they had met before the nautiloid, he’d mark her as a victim. She was pretty and just naive enough to fall for him. Hells, he had even known her parents. Cazador loved having the city’s nobility over, but never her.

She was always the princess in the tower. Always there but never seen. Even Cazador had thought she was a mere rumor and nothing else.

For a while, he just held her while she cried. He wasn’t sure what else he could do besides hold her. Nothing he could say would comfort her. They weren’t even sure if they would survive this mess. So he pulled her closer. The rest of the night passed as they were wrapped in each other’s embrace. Soft, whispered words of a future sprinkled with hope. For the first time in his unlife, he had more than just hope.

The next couple of days passed uneventfully. They were only traveling, plain and simple. Onwards to Baldur’s Gate. Where all of their dooms or salvations lay. In the gloom of it all, Tav wanted some fun. She had gone to Shadowheart and pilfered some of her extra blankets with promises to replace them once they reached the city. As they set up camp yet again, she made her way towards the lake side. She laid out all of the blankets in a large square before finding the extra food she had squirreled away. And pulled out the best wine she could find. It was an obviously aged bottle still covered in a thick layer of dust, but the label looked fancy. She truly knew nothing about wine so she prayed to whomever was listening that it wasn’t swill. She then adjusted her bustier in an awkward manner before smiling to herself and searching for the vampire spawn.

He wasn’t hard to find. No one heard what she whispered in his ear. But they certainly noticed the fond smile and raised eyebrows as she dragged him away from the camp. Astarion looked at the little picnic she had put together, his hand in hers before kissing the top of her head. “And what’s the special occasion, darling?”

She smiled up at him, unabashed emotion in her eyes with a grin on her face. She was truly divine in the moonlight. She shrugged, “I just wanted to do something nice for you. We reach Baldur’s Gate in a couple days and we have to hit the ground running soon. I just wanted to take a moment, just for us.” She picked up the bottle of wine she had found, “I hope it’s okay. I know it’s old but I don’t know if it’s good.”

He smiled and pulled her close. “Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing?”

The tips of her ears flushed as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. And then they sat and talked and ate and drank. They spoke about the Gauntlet of Shar, about the monastery, about the Moonrise Towers. And the conversation drifted to their party as Tav slowly became more and more tipsy. She talked about Wyll and his obvious daddy issues. Shadowheart and her love for more adult literature. And Astarion was all too happy to sit and listen to her. It’s one of the things that drew him to her, after all. She could read people like they were a book she was all too happy to read.

As the evening turned into night, the pair ended up against a nearby rock. Tav sitting on his lap as he peppered her neck with kisses. And as Tav’s giggles turned into soft moans as his hands started to travel to her waist. “You should keep quiet, my sweet, we wouldn’t want to wake the entire camp up. Would we?” He whispered before nipping at the base of her neck.

“I-I think you’d like that far too much,” she managed to gasp out as he helped her rock her hips back and forth against him.

He chuckled against her neck, leaving trails of almost bites with his fangs. “What ever makes you say that?”

“Astarion!” She moaned, grabbing the back of his head as he finally sank his teeth into her neck. She gripped his curls in one hand and dug her nails into his shoulder with the other. Her hips moved on their own as he slowly drank from her. His arms wrapped around her waist as he held her up. Between the wine and him drinking from her, she felt lightheaded. But that made the friction between them feel all the more intense.

“You always taste just so perfect, my love.” He slowly released her neck before slamming his lips against hers. He knew he was being needy but he craved her. As his lips melded against hers his nimble fingers went to work on the knots of her bustier. It never took him long to get her out of her clothes and tonight was no exception.

She grabbed his hands before he could fully remove her bustier, cradling his hands in hers. “Are you sure you want to do this? We really don’t have to. I’m happy to just sit here with you.” Her voice was barely a whisper, something meant just for him.

He smiled at her before kissing her again, “Darling, if I didn’t wish to have you, I wouldn’t have you half dressed sitting on my lap.”

She smiled and let go of his hands and let him return to practically tearing off her clothing. He wasn’t satisfied until she was sat on his lap in nothing but her underwear. His face buried in her breasts, leaving small little nicks with his teeth as he made his way back up to her lips. Her hands gripped his shoulder as he snaked his hand down her body. He made sure to feel all the softness that was still on her body, never failing to trace her curves.

Tav was small but years in a tower had made her body gentle. Her hands were rough from her instruments, yes, and she did have a lot of skill with a blade. But she was in no way muscular. And Astarion enjoyed that more than he could say. He enjoyed being able to almost see the tremors in her thighs before he felt it. Gods, he needed her.

It only took him a moment to find her clit and draw slow, gentle circles around it. Never quite touching it directly. “Darling, you’re already shaking. Did you miss me that much?”

“Yes!” She cried into his ear. “Y-you’re teasing me.” Her head fell against his shoulder as her body trembled against him.

“Oh, I’d never do such a thing,” He smiled and buried his hand in her hair. “I simply want to take my time enjoying you.” The vampire spawn slowly filled her cunt with his fingers, his palm grinding against her clit.

She tried hard to keep quiet. Really she did. But when his fingers curled inside of her? She couldn’t help but cry out his name. How was he so patient? All she wanted was to have him inside her. He pumped his fingers in and out of her cunt so painfully slowly.

Now, Tav may have been too focused on the rogue’s hands to notice anything else. But Astarion wasn’t. He knew Halsin and Gale were keeping watch tonight. He also knew it was far too late for anyone else to be awake. Which is why his hands didn’t stop when he noticed the bushes across from them moved. It was so subtle that he almost missed it.

Almost.

Someone was watching them. And he had an inkling he knew exactly who it was. The thought made him grin against Tav’s bloodsoaked neck. He sped up his fingers, holding her as she writhed against him. “That’s it, love, don’t hold a single thing back.” She came with a cry of his name. She was still trembling as he made a show of licking his own fingers clean. “I do so enjoy how you taste, my love.” He didn’t whisper this time. He wanted the wizard in the bushes to hear.

With shaking hands she went to untie the knots on his trousers. He leaned back against the rock, letting her take his length in her hands. “M-may I?” Her neck was stained just as red as the flush on her cheeks. Her big blue eyes wide in anticipation.

“May you what?” His hand went to her throat and he felt her breath catch.

“M-may I ride you?” It really was endearing how she asked. Her voice was breathless and her chest was heaving. He had never been overly rough with her. But with a voyeur in the bushes? He was more than tempted to lay claim to the nearly virgin in his lap.

He pouted at her, “I’m not quite sure what you mean, darling.”

Her eyes went wider than before. “W-what?”

She was so innocent. So pure, he had never even heard her swear before. “What is it exactly that you would like to do?” He purred, his forehead meeting hers. “Don’t play coy with me now.”

She swallowed, the tips of her ears matching the rest of her face. “Astarion,” she whined.

“If you use your words, love, I’ll be happy to give you anything you want.”

She whined again when the grip around her throat tightened ever so slightly. “I-I want-” another swallow, “I want to ride your cock.”

He smiled, “See? Now was that so hard? You did so well,” he whispered against her lips. She adjusted herself over him, still holding him in one hand while the other braced herself on his shoulder. His hand still held her throat, not quite squeezing just letting her know he was there. The bard lowered herself onto him. He groaned as she sank down. “Perfect.”

Her other hand flew up to his chest while she gripped his blouse so tightly that her knuckles were whiter than before. Her head spun while the wine loosened her tongue. “Gods, Astarion.”

“Use your words, darling,” he moaned against her neck, his eyes keeping an eye on the bush yet again. He wanted the wizard to see how good he could make her feel. He wanted him to see that he wasn’t even a thought on her mind. He wanted him to see that she wanted him and not Gale.

She sat for a moment, adjusting to his size before rocking her hips back and forth. Astarion’s hands flew to her hips to help guide her movements. “Feels so good,” she whimpered, still clutching at his blouse.

“That’s it, pet. You can take it, I know you can.” Her movements were entirely her own. She gradually went from rocking to bouncing. His body told him to throw his head back but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Maybe now Gale would realize she was his. Maybe he had more of a possessive streak than he thought.

“Your hand, put it back!” She used his chest as leverage for her movements. He could feel her getting close and who was he to deny her? He instinctively put his hand back around her throat and squeezed. He had never felt her tighten around him harder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He let her sit like that for a moment as she started to relax once again.

Whoever was in the bushes was gone now. Either too riled up to stay or too heartbroken to watch. Either way, Astarion found it satisfying. Satisfying enough to toss Tav on her back and put her ankles on his shoulder. It was something about knowing Tav not only trusted him but chose him, drove him wild. Far more than any lover he’s had in the past. Even through her half opened eyes and her mind filled with wine and pleasure, her eyes were still filled with that emotion. That feeling that he wouldn’t dare put words to yet.

She was his. And he was equally hers.

Her moans and whimpers filled the air but he felt so far away from her. Too far. She grabbed his hands and pulled him closer, lacing her hands with his. “Beautiful,” was all she could whisper before she clenched around him. This time, he wasn’t far behind her. They laid like that for a while. Him on top of her, her tracing small patterns on his back. The scars were a reminder of what awaited them in Baldur’s Gate. But it could wait for now. For now they had each other.

“Did you see who was in the bushes?”

He immediately met her eyes, “You knew?”

“I’m naive, not stupid.” She giggled, rolling over to her side.

“I believe we just gave the magic eater quite the eyeful.”

#astarion #astarion smut #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #fem!tav #cucking Gale #not my gif

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neil-gaiman · 10 months

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Hi Mr. Gaiman,

As an accomplished author with several books under his belt, how do you know that a story is a dud for lack of a better word? I have a million ideas bouncing around inside my head at all times, and while I consider them good ideas worth pursuing, how am I sure they will make a good story?

I ask this because I have been dwelling on something one of my professors said last semester. He held a seminar on poetry and got to the topic of fiction writing, where he stated that he had just recently finished a story he had rewritten several times over the course of multiple years. Now I myself write as a hobby with a faint imagining that someone might see it in the future, and I have written a dud or two, where the plot was poorly formed and the ideas behind it just had a flaw somewhere in the base concept. Perhaps this is my youth and amateurity speaking, but I was under the impression that given enough time and care, any story could recover from that stage so long as it had not been completed yet. Ideas would need to be reworked, concepts retooled, characters redrawn, but the very basic idea could still survive in a different format.

My professor disagreed, stating that he has destroyed 400-500 page novels that he has written before upon realizing said fatal flaw. He stated that the story was in a state that it could not recover from, and that many authors encounter ideas that seem good at the time, but stink later on to such a degree that the basic premise must be thrown out. This seems like a tremendous loss of work to me. As writing is an art form, it feels somewhat similar to destroying practice sketches and 'meh' oil paintings that showcase the artist's progress. An idea that stinks today might be able to work from a different angle later on in my opinion.

I suppose after rambling my question is now this: are some ideas and concepts just not worth pursuing? Are some story concepts flawed from the get-go and impossible to save, and is there a way to tell that before writing the whole thing? Is it even possible to waste that time as you're getting in practice for the next tale?This isn't something I ever really thought about before being told in sure tones that this is how things work by someone with a degree is this, so I figured I'd ask the professional author for a second opinion. Apologies for the length of the message, especially if this is one you've received before.

I have things that have stalled and a few stories that, when they were done, went to the box in the attic rather than to anyone who could publish them (there's a whole novel there I wrote when I was 21). But mostly because I was writing serial comics, failure was not an option, and if something did fail it had done it in public for everyone to see. And I learned that some things I thought were failures had actually worked really well.

Some people are afraid of failure. Some people are afraid of success, which can also be a good reason for junking books and never showing them to anyone. As long as you pronounce them irretrievably flawed and show them to nobody, you will never be judged for them or have to deal with either success or failure.

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forthegothicheroine · 1 year

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Do you have any gothic novels that you can recommend off the top of your head? Especially to people who want to try their hand at the genre? I've hit a wall in my project and I need to get some fresh inspiration, but I don't know where to start and the book side of tumblr failed me the last time I tried asking them for recs

Hell yeah! I made some old posts for this a while back, but it's good to look at it again with my more recent taste! Let's see...

Classic Gothics

Dracula: The one, the only. Often imitated, never equalled.

Frankenstein: Short, sad and world changing! Can get a little slow at parts, but definitely worth it. (True story, my parents read this to me as a fetus to calm my kicking, so it's part of my personal mythology!)

The Case of Charles Dexter Ward: The most gothic of Lovecraft's work, and possibly my favorite. Novella length, usually found in collections.

The Picture of Dorian Gray: Sinister, sexy, philosophical, with a main character I want to punch in the face!

Carmilla: Another novella, about as lush and swooning as vampire stories get.

The Hound of the Baskervilles: A very readable gothic mystery.

Confessions of a Justified Sinner: This one isn't as action packed, but if you have big religious issues like me, it's incredibly haunting.

The Monk: Like the above, but sleazier and crazier!

Northanger Abbey: A gentle parody of early gothics, starring an adorable proto-goth girl.

The Italian: I'll be honest, I find Anne Radcliffe kind of a slog, but if you liked Northanger Abbey and want to read what Catherine Morland reads, this is probably the most accessible.

A Long Fatal Love Chase: This starts as campy and then takes a plunge into gut-wrenchingly intense. The book Jo March was always trying to write!

The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde: Another novella, and Stevenson is one of the best writers out there for excitement!

The Werewolf of Paris: Gothic monster as serial killer, still scary today.

Rebecca: The foundation of all gothic romance to come afterwards. A ghost story without a ghost, with an ending that's still debated as happy or sad!

Jane Eyre: The other foundation of all gothic romance to come afterwards. I bounced off the child abuse-heavy beginning a few times, but I'm very glad I finally read to the good stuff!

The Castle of Otranto: Considered the first gothic novel, a goofy b-movie in written form.

Modern-ish Gothics (post-1950 or so)

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein: Fuck the haters, I love this book.

Mexican Gothic: Genuinely scary, genuinely romantic, genuinely creative. A favorite.

Blackwater: A southern gothic saga of a family in a flooded town, whose scion marries a woman who isn't quite human. A whirlwind ride!

A Bloodsmoor Romance: Another family saga, this one northern gothic, with sisters whose lives all go off the rails in different supernatural ways. Give this a try before writing Joyce Carol Oates off entirely!

The Silver Devil: A nasty, problematic bodice ripper where you'll cheer for the heroine to bring the hero down low!

Interview with the Vampire: To be honest again, I'm not super into Anne Rice, but this is a page-turner, and every vampire book that has come after it has had to respond to it in one way or another. Read the next two Vampire Chronicles books if you like it!

A Taste of Blood Wine: My own preferred sexy vampire romance!

The Bloody Chamber: The ultimate dark sexy fairy tale work, accept no substitutes.

Haunted Castles: Contains the brilliant novella Sardonicus, as well as some other campy gothic stories!

A Great and Terrible Beauty: Many millennials were introduced to the gothic genre via this, Fear Street Sagas, or A Series of Unfortunate Events. This is my favorite of the three, though the sequels are a bit of a letdown.

Gormenghast: This series is a throwback to the pseudo-medieval, Otranto-style gothic, but much better. Don't read Titus Alone.

#books #gothic literature

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x-ethan-lxndry-l0v3r-x · 9 months

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Sorries and Cupcakes

Ethan Landry x apologetic!baker!kinda bimbo! reader,

Summary: Reader needs help with a subject she’s failing, so her professor asked smart boi Ethan to tutor her, hopefully nothing too hardcore, and yeah I can make a part 2 or something, and I can take requests. :))

“I don’t get this Ethan, just let me fail this stupid class.” She groaned in frustration, tapping the pink pen she held in her hand on the wooden table of the library desk.

“I can’t let you do that Y/n.” He responded with a slight frown upon his face, “This part is very easy, you’re just not trying.” He moved the book closer to her, “Just read this chapter and then I’ll help you take notes.”

She huffed lightly, before looking into the book reading the words on the first chapter, her pink tinted glossed lips touching with each word she spoke from the book, “There, I did it, can I go now??”

“No Y/n, you have to take notes now.” He responded taking her textbook and opening it to a blank page, “You have to write a summary of the chapter you just read.”

She cocked her head to the side a little bit, “Huh?”

He explained it to her again, she still didn’t get it, “What?”

He let out an annoyed sigh, before explaining it once more, “You have to read the important bits of the text and put them together in a paragraph for your summary.” He spoke his voice laced with annoyance and slight frustration.

She bit her glossy bottom lip slightly, “I’m sorry Ethan.” She sounded like a kicked puppy.

She struggled with picking out the important bits, trying her best, but poor girl isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed :((, as she tapped her pink pen against the paper, trying to figure out how to write the summary she had for her notes.

“It’s fine Y/n.” He sighed, “No it’s not I’ve just wasted your time.” She stood up, gathering her things, “I’ll make it up to you Ethan I promise.”

She walked out of the library with a plan set in her mind on how to make it up to him, yes! She knew exactly what she was going to give him, in the hopes he would like it.

He couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty, she sounded very upset by what had happened, he decided that he would try and explain to her that it was okay, and that he should’ve been more patient with her.

The next day when they had met for another tutoring session in the library, Y/n had a little something to give him as an apology in the hopes he would like it, she sat down on the padded chair waiting for him to enter the library when she saw him, walking over to their usual tutoring spot.

“You’re here early.” His eyebrows furrowed, “Is something wrong?” He asked her.

“No nothing’s wrong Ethan, I just wanted to give you something to tell you that I’m really sorry.” She spoke her voice slightly sounding nervous.

His mind raced to what she might give him to say sorry, was she going to give him something inappropriate? In the library?? His cheeks flushed red at the thought, he cleared his throat, “So what uh is it you want to give to me?” He asked.

She opened her bag, and gave him a small container that held four decently sized cupcakes inside, “I made you these last night, I just really wanted to say I’m sorry for making you annoyed.” Her pink tinted glossy lips curving upwards into a weak smile.

“Honestly Y/n believe me, it’s absolutely fine, I should’ve been more patient with you.” He admitted,

“Well I also did that paragraph last night, I don’t think it’s very good, but it’s the thought that counts?” She spoke slightly unsure if she did the summary correct, taking her notebook from her bag opening to the page she had written the summary on.

It’s wasn’t very good, but he knew that she tried and that he could always help her rewrite it, but bless her heart this girl worried so much about this she even made him cupcakes over a small thing.

“It needs fixing doesn’t it? I’ll do it better again this time, or at least try to do it better.” She sighed about to take the notebook back.

He placed his hand over the book to stop her from pulling it away, “No, no,no, it’s good! It’s good, it just needs a little more work.” He lied a bit about it being good, but if it meant he got to see her a little less stressed about it, plus he could change it himself at anytime, but for now he was just going to enjoy this 1 on 1 time he got with her.

“Really?” Her eyes lit up slightly with excitement.

“Yeah, it’s great, you just need to restructure some of your sentences but I’m here so I can help you with that.” He smiled warmly.

“Thank you Ethan.” She spoke happily planting a soft kiss on his cheek. Before returning back to her notebook.

He was not expecting that, his cheek warm from where she had kissed him, and he just stopped properly computing, he Ethan Landry, just got kissed on the cheek by the most prettiest girl he had ever seen Y/n L/n.

“Uh-urm, y’you’re welcome.” He had sputtered out a response

She gave him a small soft smile, before looking back down at her notebook.

It was in that moment that they both realised, there could be more than just tutoring between the two of them.

- Love you guys hope you enjoyed my first Ethan Landry fanfic, I think it’s okay. 🩷

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x reader fluff #ethan kirsch #scream 6 #ethan landry x bimbo!reader

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 2 months

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Words Fail

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell Summary: On one of the most difficult days of his life, Maverick finds support in an unexpected place. Word Count: 568 TW: Canon Character Death, Funeral, Grief Notes: Written for day 14 of @whumpthemusical's event for "Words Fail" from Dear Evan Hansen. Thank you to @green-socks for beta reading and being my TG fact-checker 😘

Maverick opened his mouth, but he was unable to speak.

He had stayed up all night working on what he was going to say today. He had gone through draft after draft until the morning light began to creep across his papers and his hand cramped painfully. However, he had thought he had finally settled on something he could be proud of.

Yet, as he stood next to the portrait of the man who had been closer than a brother to him for over three decades and stared down at the shiny mahogany box in front of him, those perfectly crafted words failed him.

He knew his elegy would give Ice the farewell he deserved, however, it still wasn’t good enough. How do you condense 30 years of loyal friendship down to a few lines on a page? How can you recall every laugh, every tear, every moment of support or encouragement in just a few minutes? How can you say a final goodbye to the person who was always there?

Maverick opened his mouth again but the words refused to come out. They remained lodged in his throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe. He tried to swallow, but it just made it worse. Tears threatened to slip from his eyes and wondered what everyone else saw as they stared expectantly at him.

Scanning the crowd full of friends old and new, his eyes were drawn to one person in particular. He hadn’t consciously sought him out—he hadn’t even known where he would be standing—but when Maverick locked eyes with his godson, he paused.

For a moment, they held each other’s gaze, almost daring the other to make the first move. Bradley looked stoic and strong as he held his head high, but even despite their years of separation, Maverick knew him well enough to see the clenching of his jaw and the tightness in his shoulders. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one struggling to keep his composure.

Then, so slightly that Maverick almost wondered if he imagined it, Bradley nodded his head.

The gesture was so small, yet so meaningful, that Maverick’s knees almost gave out as a wave of relief and calm washed over him. The last time he and Bradley had talked was back on the base when Bradley finally confronted him about pulling his papers. Maverick had always known when that moment came, it would be painful but he never expected to hear Bradley say the things he said that night. If Warlock hadn’t interrupted with the news of Ice’s death, he could only imagine what else his godson would have thrown furiously in his face.

And yet, at this moment, when Maverick needed it more than he ever had before, Bradley gave him an olive branch. It might be small and it might be fueled by the loss of someone who meant the world to both of them, but it was a sign that there still might be hope for them after all.

Glancing down at the casket before him, a smile slowly spread across Maverick’s face. Even in death, Ice had found a way to help him one last time. They might have always disagreed about who was the better pilot even until the very end, but there was never a doubt about who the better wingman was.

Clearing his throat, Maverick opened his mouth and began to speak.

Taglist: @green-socks, @lorecraft, @heart-0n-fire, @mayhem24-7forever @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @airhogger, @piscesvancouverite, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @callsign-phoenix, @shanimallina87, @forever-sleepy-sloth, @blue-aconite, @notroosterbradshaw, @dezthegeek, @blessupblessup, @cherrycola27, @phoenix1389, @nicangelinee, @smells-like-perfect-senses, @boringusername3, @petlaufeyson, @cycbaby, @topguncortez, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @writercole, @onebigfangirlworld, @wkndwlff, @ravenmoore14, @roosterforme, @clancycucumber230, @mamachasesmayhem, @slightly-psycho-multifan, @kmc1989, @ohtobeleah, @deppresseddyslexic, @horneybeach1, @mandylove1000, @aczhang777

#fic #whump: the musical #pete maverick mitchell #maverick #pete mitchell #tom cruise #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #iceman #tom iceman kazansky #tom kazansky #angst #hurt/comfort #hurt & comfort #canon character death tw #funeral tw #grief tw

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shai-manahan · 1 year

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Hollowed Minds Progress Update 5/08/23

Hi! I know I failed at making a progress update last month, so first of all, apologies for that! Things have just been busy tbh and life has been too stressful that at some points I just couldn't write. It's why I've been a bit inactive here as well, and why I've been barely answering the asks I've been receiving.

I cannot report yet how many words I've written for the update so far because I haven't really taken a look at it myself, but I will do so at the end of the month if there's still no confirmed schedule by then. My eye health has just been very consistent at making my life harder as well until recently, and here's hoping I'll at least be able to function properly for a whole month🤞

Some things that will be in the next update:

For Chapter 2's Part 2:

Everything still goes as planned, except now both routes are expected to be fast-paced and action-oriented, though one is still more intense than the other.

This will be a massive one, not because of the word count but because of the variations that will play out. There won't be much issues in arranging the transitions to Chapter 3, so there's at least that, but your choices will matter a lot. So you might have to be careful with them.

One of the routes gets Alonzo actively involved, but please be assured that this doesn't mean you have to romance them. I actually encourage you all to check out both routes once they come because you'll gain more discoveries that way. 👀

Alonzo's route will be so memeworthy, I have to admit. Please try it.

There's an info dump in Chapter 2's Part 1 that I'm not really a fan of, so I'll be moving some of those to this part instead if needed.

For the overall IF:

Alex will now have a set skin tone if a lighter one is chosen for the Ripper. I will discuss this in detail soon, but I just wanted to emphasize that Alex and Ripper's mother are canonically PoC.

You will have options for your Ripper to wear contacts or glasses (or neither ofc).

You'll be able to bring a weapon with you in Chapter 2 depending on your choices so far.

You might remember a section of Chapter 1 where you can choose what your Ripper had been doing for the duration of the five months. I might reduce it to a few, just so I could have them properly recognized in the story.

There will be a couple of changes in the character descriptions in the game's stats page, with plans to make them shorter, too, for easier readability.

I will make sure you'll have saves at the end of this. So please don't be surprised if there'll be more page breaks in the future, as well as more choices (that are still as meaningful.)

In connection to above, I also plan to make the in-game descriptions snappier and easier to read while still maintaining the quality they should have. Your feedback will be very important for this, and this also applies to the beta testers (sorry I've been so silent. I swear I'll get back to you all soon lmao)

Not really too related here, but I also plan to be more consistent with my updates in the future. It's just that my irl schedule is still a huge mess, and it's very hard to be consistent when that happens.

Just a last piece of my mind. Some anons have been very aggressive with harassment the past few months, and I really have no interest for more drama right now. So if you have issues, if you think you can back your own words, send them through a DM or at least turn off anon so we could have a proper conversation.

It's honestly tiring. Being an Asian in this community can already be so tiring, so I am begging people to be mature and responsible with their words. After all, I've repeatedly said that you can always come to me with your concerns or whatever you have against me. As long as we can actually talk about it.

Anyway, that's all, and I hope the week will be good for everyone :) I have a few more things to post on Patreon tomorrow, so if you're a current patron, do look forward to that!

#hollowed minds series #interactive fiction #hollowed minds #wip #writing #hollowed minds book one #if wip #interactive novel #hollowed minds progress update #progress update #interactive game #if game #cyoa

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bettsfic · 11 months

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I feel like I need to write faster so that I can one day be published. Like, I need to have already written x amount of books to improve my craft. Now I can work on a big project that I can hopefully query later. But I’m still at the practice stages and it feels like I’m being too slow to get to my dream. And I truly hate calling my “practice” projects practice projects because it feels like they aren’t valid when I do. But it has been recommended to me to start off practicing before I do my more complex story ideas. I’m trying not to rush my writing but it feels like that’s the only way to reach my goal. I truly feel like the slowest writer: spending months on outlining and over a year on first drafts. How can I be a professional one day if this is my process?

i answered a similar question about feeling the pressure to write a lot in this post, where i offer my own publishing timeline.

the thing is, there's no such thing as practice projects. the concept of practice implies an eventual performance. a performance is temporal. it can only happen in the moment, like a sport or a concert. it can be recorded for posterity, but the actual reality of it happens in a present that can't be recreated.

poetry, prose, and art are all eternal things. when words are printed to paper, they become a tangible object. there is no single moment you're working toward. and because of that, there's no practice. there's only drafting and revision. that's all writing is and can ever be. no one gets better at writing. you can only get more patient with your process, and find more familiarity in the agony of the unknown.

getting a book published isn't the birth of your story; it's the death of it. it's its final resting place. the life of a story happens while you're writing it. everyone who reads it thereafter is only experiencing what is to you a memory.

so publishing is wildly overrated. just last year i won a grant with a story that hasn't been, and will probably never be, published. two weeks ago i got accepted into a prestigious residency with an excerpt of a story that wasn't (at the time of applying) published. i got accepted into a PhD program on a writing sample that was published, but the publication folded and now no one can access that story anymore. i signed an agent with a short story collection that got a lot of interest but nobody wanted to pick it up.

i just finished a novel i'm pretty confident will sell sometime in the next decade, but that's not what i set out to do with it. i set out to experiment with something, not thinking i'd ever publish it and so the stakes were very low. all i did was follow a small idea around and ask it questions like an annoying kid whose curiosity can never be satisfied. and around the 75k mark i thought: oh, this is the thing.

but the 6ish novels before that will never see the light of day. those weren't practice novels. they're novels that either have no place in the current market for whatever reason, or they're novels that aren't yet doing the work i want them to do, and i don't know how to tackle a revision. i've had to write 3 million words to get to the 30k or so words i've formally published. those 3 million words weren't practice projects. they were the real deal. but sometimes the resting place of a story is a locked drawer.

that can be sad. devastating. but you're allowed to be sad about work that doesn't reach your initial ambitions. there are no practice projects, but you can practice coping with all the complicated and uncomfortable emotions of the creative process. you can practice facing your fear of failure, which over time will get smaller and smaller as you continue to set goals and fail to reach them. eventually you'll succeed, but that success probably won't look like what you think it does.

honor your interests, your process, the next page, next sentence, next word. pursue what's right in front of you and forget the rest.

#writing advice #process

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taleasnewastime · 2 years

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Dating advice | Part Seven

Summary: It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: fluff; angst; smut

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, low self-esteem, mentions of misogyny, awkwardness.

Authors Note: Here is it. THE date! I hope you enjoy it.

Previous | Next | Series masterlist

“You have legs.”

Yoongi frowns even as his lips pull back to show his teeth. His eyes flick down to his legs and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s checking you’re right or because he’s become bashful by your comment.

You don’t know why you said it. You’ve seen his legs before, it just felt like a good thing to say, something funny to break the nerves bubbling in you. Now you’re wondering why you didn’t just say hi.

“You know, because there’s normally a bar blocking them from where I’m stood,” you explain, the enthusiasm that was previously in your voice has seeped away slightly.

“I think they say if you have to explain a joke it’s not very good,” Yoongi scrunches his nose at you, cute but you think supposed to be a way to show he’s teasing you.

“Well, they’re nice,” you say lamely, trying and failing to salvage whatever this is. “Your legs that is. As in, you look nice. Your outfit. Because I normally see you in work stuff and this is different. Nice.”

You watch Yoongi’s smile go from small to large over the course of your catastrophic monologue. He doesn’t even reply when you finish, at least not in the few seconds you give him and decide to just carry on.

“I’m guessing this is all going to get written up in my report?” He cocks his head to the side in question, smile still widely on his face. “You know, the ten-page essay you’re going to write about all the things I do wrong tonight so I can improve and find the love of my life?”

He chuckles. “The rambling was cute. Definitely not a flaw.”

He doesn’t give you time to react to the comment, just twists and nods his head at the restaurant.

“Making me wait for food though, possibly write-up worthy. Come on.”

You don’t speak as you catch up and then walk beside him. Don’t think it’s possible to speak you’re so flustered. The words that you’d hoped would break your nerves have only increased them. Yoongi doesn’t seem so bothered, just coolly strides to the restaurant and holds the door open for you to walk through. You give him an awkward nod as you walk past him and are met with a different smiling man.

“Oh,” you say, mind scrambled.

“It’s under Min,” Yoongi says as he comes to stand by your side.

“Table for two?” Yoongi nods at the man. “Follow me.”

You do as told, Yoongi once again dropping his step so he’s behind you.

It’s weird. You’ve been on a few dates now, have felt nervous for them all and all of them have felt awkward at the start, but this somehow feels different. Maybe because you actually care about this one, at least care more about it, have so many more feelings attached to begin with.

It’s stupid, because this isn’t even real.

You take a seat by the window, Yoongi easily sliding into the one opposite. The waiter lays down two menus as you both take your jackets off in synchronised motions. Your eyes dart around the room as Yoongi picks up the wine menu. It feels hot in here.

“This place is fancy,” you whisper, eyes going back to Yoongi and then end up saying the next words louder and unfortunately squeakier. “Come here often?”

The corners of Yoongi’s lips curl up even as his eyes stay on the menu. He’s already so amused by your antics. It’s not a good sign. Definitely because he’s now realising why you’re single and have no dating prospects. This was definitely a bad idea and you’re never going to be able to show your face in his pub again.

“Never been before,” he says easily, but you hardly hear, your mind spiralling into a steady panic.

“Is it too late to call this off? Because I really think –”

“Red or white?” Yoongi cuts you off.

“What?”

“Wine. Do you prefer red or white?”

You take a second to think. “Whatever’s strongest.”

Yoongi closes the menu, the smile clear on his face as his attention goes wholly to you. Your stomach does some weird thing you attribute to nerves.

“Good choice.”

“Thanks?”

“I own a pub,” he says and you almost go to remind him that you already know, but he carries on. “It’s not a job synonymous with being able to come to places like this. I don’t get many nights off.”

“Is that why you’re single?” The words slip out, but Yoongi doesn’t look phased by them.

“That and I guess I’ve never met anyone I want to date.”

“Right,” you say, eyes glancing down at your menu just to avoid his gaze.

“And what about you?” You look back up at him. “Why are you single?”

Much like him you don’t take any offense by the words, maybe you would if someone else had said the words so plainly.

“I guess the same as you. Never met anyone I wanted to date.”

It’s half a truth and you can tell Yoongi knows you’re not telling him everything by the way he cocks his head slightly to the side. You could tell him that it’s because you’ve never felt confident to put yourself out there, never wanted to feel judged, never felt like you were good enough for anyone but also like there was never anyone that ticked all your impossible to fill boxes. Maybe your expectations have been too high, maybe you need more self-confidence, it’s a lot of things, none you think are things you should start to break down with Yoongi right now.

“Can I get either of you a drink?”

Both your eyes shoot to the waiter, stood looking down at you with a smile and a notepad.

“We’ll have a bottle of Chablis, please.”

He nods his head, pen moving across his pad. “And food?”

“Can we get a few more minutes?”

“Of course, I’ll get the wine and let you consider”

Yoongi’s eyes drift back to you as the waiter disappears and you offer him a small smile.

“So, you know what I do, but I realise I know little about you. What do you do?”

“As a job?” You ask dumbly, the shift in conversation grating in your mind.

Yoongi nods, shuffling in his seat as if to get comfy.

You pause, consider, and then say, “I’m an engineer.”

You watch Yoongi’s eyes widen and before he even speaks you’re rolling your eyes.

“What?” For once the word doesn’t leave your mouth.

“I get it. An engineer and yet I’m a woman. They’re not normally two things that people consider together, and yet here I am.”

“What? No – I – That isn’t what I was going to say.”

You stare at him, your look challenging him to say whatever is going through his mind. He seems to blanch and while you think maybe you’re being a bit harsh, you also get it so much that you can’t help it, it’s become an almost natural reaction by now, defensive. At least with your other dates they found out over messages and had time to form a response. Yoongi’s on the spot and with your sensitivity, he was never going to win. This has become your normal reaction to people when they ask about your job. No matter what they say, you’re defensive off the bat.

“Ok,” he almost sighs the words, doesn’t quite hold his hands up but you can see the sincerity in his eyes, the sorriness. “It was a shitty reaction. I’m just impressed is all. Not surprised. Just … I don’t know I’ve never worked anywhere other than a pub and that doesn’t require much brain.”

You shrug, become embarrassed by your reaction, look down at the open menu in front of you. Try to reign in your emotions. You won’t apologise, but you can back down, not be so defensive.

“I’m not so sure about that,” you mumble.

“I am,” he says firmly.

You fall into silence, both of you browsing your menus but you can feel the tension in the air. All because of you. This is one disaster after another. This is why you’re single.

“Can you see why I hate dating now?” You ask.

You look up to see Yoongi already looking at you. You have a small, sorry smile on your face, apologetic. He still has that look in his eyes, though it seems to have shifted now. Not quite pity but something else. Before you can try and read into it though, you’re interrupted.

“Here’s your wine. And are you ready to order food?”

You look up faster than Yoongi, the waiter is opening up the bottle of wine and you watch as he pours into two glasses. You hadn’t quite expected him back this soon, or maybe you’ve been talking too much with Yoongi. You don’t know what you want to order. You’ve looked at the menu before coming here and yet you thought you’d have enough time to reconsider your options now.

“Oh,” you look back at Yoongi to find him still looking at you, that small smile back on his face.

“I can give you another five minutes if you need?” The waiter offers.

Yoongi waits. The waiter waits. You feel the pressure.

“Urm,” you look down at your menu, seeing the words but not taking any of them in.

Yoongi’s soothing tone cuts across your brain. “What would you recommend?”

You look up again. At this point feel a bit like a nodding dog. Yoongi’s focus is now on the waiter, listening as he talks him through their different dishes and which he thinks are the best. He seems to catch your movement out of the corner of his eye and turns enough to smile and nod his head at the menu in front of you.

He’s buying you time. You could have just asked for a minute or two to think about it, but he saw your panic and is doing this instead.

You use it, properly read your menu and settle on something just as Yoongi is finishing up. He has something with lamb, you get something with pasta. The waiter smiles and leaves. You look at Yoongi. The awkward silence continues.

“So,” you say. “Your surnames Min?”

His lips curl in that manner that you’re growing to enjoy. “It is.”

“And you own a pub?”

“I do,” his smile continues to grow as his voice remains smooth.

“And it’s called The Old Rectifying House?”

“That is correct.”

You fall silent. You have nothing left to say. Were kind of hoping Yoongi would latch onto one of those statements and steer you onto a long and rambling story that would take this thing off the ground.

“Do you normally list everything you know about your date to them?”

You flush. Stumble over your words when you reply. “No. Not really. No. I don’t know.”

“Maybe you should ask questions you don’t know the answer to.”

Is he mocking you? Almost definitely. At least it’s obviously done with amusement, no form of malice in his tone. Still, you flush.

“What do you do for fun?” You ask lamely.

Yoongi’s smile widens, the glint in his eye seems to shine.

“Y/N,” your name sounds amazing leaving his lips. “It’s just me. Relax.”

Relax. It sounds easier said than done. This non-date with a man you actually care about, that you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of; sure doesn’t sound very relaxing to you.

Still, you take his advice. Take a breath before taking a sip of your wine. He made a good choice.

You feel the need to start again. You’ve made so many mistakes, said things you wish you hadn’t, even if Yoongi would disagree. You think about how he opened up to you about his dad, even if it was small, he trusted you enough with that. You don’t normally talk about it, but you feel like if there is anyone you can tell, it’s Yoongi.

“I realised I wanted to be an engineer when I was in high school and watched a documentary and they interviewed a woman who just seemed amazing. So intelligent and put together and everything my mind pictured as success. I remember going into school and talking to my science teacher about it and you know what the first thing he said was?”

Yoongi shakes his head, his shoulders lifting slightly in a shrug, eyes showing he’s fully engaged. You smile despite the next words, more in irony than anything.

“He started telling me about how hard it would be. How good my grades would have to be. How long it would take to achieve. He never once encouraged me and told me that I could do it or that it was a good decision. He never explicitly said I couldn’t, but he tried to build me down with his words.”

Yoongi shakes his head lightly, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“I don’t know. I’ve always had it in some form or another and in some ways I think it’s helped motivate me to actually do it, to prove to them I can do it. Anyway, it’s why I always get defensive when people, especially men, ask about my job. I was one of the only females in my cohort, all my lecturers were men, most of my colleagues now are men and it’s hard. I love it, but it’s hard.”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it. I can’t pretend that I can relate because I’ve never been judged because of my gender. But you did it. And I’m happy that you enjoy the job, that you proved them all wrong, that you realised you can do anything you want.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, fingers fiddle with the napkin placed in front of you.

“It’s impressive,” he continues to affirm.

You take a breath. This has already gotten way deeper than any of the dates you’ve been on so before. There’s something about Yoongi that seems to draw it out of you. Because though this isn’t really a first date, though you’ve spoken a lot before, these are things that you hardly open up about. Things that are so personal to you and hard to admit. And yet here you are having an open conversation with Yoongi about it.

“I think it’s why I came to the pub on my own that first time,” you carry on. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to do but never had the courage. And going on dates. I’ve always been way too scared to set up dating profiles even though I like the idea of being with someone. My friend has this saying. She’s always like MCE. Main Character Energy. And I thought sod it. If I want to do these things I should just do it.”

“I like that,” Yoongi smiles back at you. “MCE.”

You nod. You knew he wouldn’t mock you, but his gentle affirmation and the way you can he’s being genuine really does something to your heart. The way it’s currently flip flopping in your chest can’t be healthy. So you decide to move onto safer ground.

“Anyway, enough about that boring shit,” you laugh lightly, take a gulp of wine as you push away the emotions. “Let’s get onto the important stuff. Dream holiday?”

A laugh escapes his lips, his eyes crinkling closed and his gums showing. Ok, maybe not safer ground with the way your stomach is now tying itself in knots.

“The important questions, huh? Guess I better really think about this then.”

And just like that you slip into your easy, lightly teasing chat. You hardly notice your food arriving, don’t get self-conscious about the way you eat. Time just slips away.

You both order dessert, try to elongate the night as much as you can, have a happy buzz running through, not just from the wine. At the end Yoongi offers to pay, but you’d seen a glimpse of the total and even if it wasn’t astronomical, you’d have offered to pay half. But because it’s a fancy restaurant, meaning the price is that much higher, you don’t take no as an answer. Luckily Yoongi only pushes so much, in the end lets you pay your share.

You both put your jackets on and while you��re unsure how Yoongi felt about the night, you had such a great time that, for once, you don’t worry about it.

You both pause on the street when you get out, only walk a few paces so you’re not blocking anyone before stopping and turning to each other.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight,” you say.

“Of course,” is all he replies.

You linger. It’s the part you hate the most in dates, find it really awkward to say goodbye, but find it the hardest tonight, mainly because you don’t want to go. But you have to.

“So,” you elongate the word. “I guess I’ll see you at the pub?”

“You not getting a taxi?” He ignores the question, his eyes flashing with worry.

“I only live round the corner.”

“Round the corner?” His head dips to the side. “Then I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.”

“But surely you want to get home.”

“I’m sure it’s not far out of the way.”

“Well, where do you live?”

He raises an eyebrow this time. “At the pub.”

“You live in the pub?” You say flatly, eyes scrunching as if trying to work out what the joke is.

“Not in the pub,” Yoongi’s lip curls. “Above the pub. In a flat.”

“Oh. Right. That makes more sense.”

“So are you going to lead the way?”

“You really don’t have to.”

“As you said.”

“It’s literally just around the corner.”

“You mentioned.”

“I thought you said I shouldn’t invite people back to mine after a first date.”

He smiles, eyes flicking around your face and when he speaks his voice comes out low and husky. “I did say that, huh?”

The look he’s giving you, the silence that has fallen over you, it stirs something inside you, so much so that you almost break.

“I was only offering to walk you to your door though,” he chuckles the words, a low deep noise that reverberates through you.

You want to break and say yes. Want him to fight a bit harder and insist. But you know what will happen if he walks you home, you’ll end up inviting him in, only for a coffee or a drink, and he might say yes and then he’ll be in your house. And that might be it. The night might end there with nothing else. But you don’t want to ruin this. You like going to the pub too much. Like talking to Yoongi too much. Like Yoongi too much.

“Let me at least get your number,” his tone is back to normal, his face no longer showing any mischief. He looks serious, as if he’s read your mind and doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. “So you can let me know when you get home.”

“Ok,” you say lightly, hand going to your pocket to retrieve your phone. His long fingers grasp your phone and you watch in disbelief as he taps away. How have you managed to swindle his number?

He hands the phone back. “Get home safe then.”

You nod, give him a small smile as you linger. “Thanks again,” you repeat and then turn and walk away before you can say or do anything stupid.

You glance back one last time to see Yoongi where you left him, watching you walk until the last possible point.

#yoongi fic #Yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #suga fic #suga fanfic #yoongi fluff #suga fluff #yoongi imagine #yoongi series #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fan fiction #yoongi angst

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melkstudio · 7 days

Text

Announcement

Hello everyone!

I’ve been away for a long time, trying to write but feeling discouraged because of… a lot of things really. Lately my writing feels so inadequate, like I try to be emotional but it comes out overly dramatic instead (which is funny because I cried with most of those scenes, I, the one writing, felt emotional, so theoretically it should work but it feels hollow now). This last part of the chapter is an emotional one but I keep failing at finding a way to portray it well. It’s a combination of hitting the wall of my current skill, an overall dissatisfaction with life and my (nonexistent) career as a writer, and a disconnect with the story.

I don’t know what to do, even now. I know that if I want to overcome this obstacle the only solution is to keep writing, but I feel really lost on how, and everything seems more appealing than facing a difficult task. Still, I will try.

I unlaunched my patreon page, too. I don’t have the time or the energy to dedicate to such an endeavor, specially when I find it hard to write regularly. Since a long time ago writing oneshots became a chore and it felt like I should have been writing the main story instead.

I may offer the extras and interactive extra as a one-time purchase, but I don’t know when I will write consistently enough to find the effort worthwhile. Right now, I feel like it’s better to try and find a rhythm that works for me, to write for fun and hope for the best.

Now mind you, I’m not the type of person that easily gives up, I have content written that I could release, but I’m not happy with it (mostly just Hazuki’s part and what comes after). Also, releasing a new update means time spent coding and I would rather try and get into the habit of writing first. But when this last segment of the chapter is done, I’m going to release it all. Don’t know when though, I would rather not think of the end just yet, getting to finish a scene without cringing is enough.

I keep thinking about this other story I have. I really want to write it, but it’s also very emotional, so I might use it to practice writing emotional scenes.

Anyway, I know it’s not the update you guys want, it’s not the one I want to give you. I’ll just… try not to think of the future and just write when I can.

Here’s a small sneak peek into chapter 2 (I have so many documents now… I don’t know what I will do when I finally have to code everything together), from Masa’s solo:

"Well, I need an explanation. At this point, I'm willing to entertain possession. Maybe you were dead this whole time, I don't know!"

(Possession would have been a cool idea, I’ll write it for next time)

#if i manage to get a rhythm going finishing this chapter shouldn't take long #there's not much left though I do have to edit and code #interactive fiction

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batrachised · 9 months

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Hi! I'm so excited that there's a Blue Castle book club happening, it's one of my favorite L. M. Montgomery books and also one of my favorite books of all time and seeing all the posts have made me so happy! I'm planning to reread Blue Castle via audiobook so I can catch up soon! :D

Also, I would love to know your thoughts on Jane of Lantern Hill - I love Jane, and the ending where her parents get back together always makes me cry 💜

I also loved your Blythe kids ranking post, my favorite is Rilla but Walter is a close second, and I have such a soft spot for Rilla/Kenneth.

Anyway, thanks for listening to my rambling, your blog is amazing and I'm thrilled to see more l m montgomery/blue castle fans come out of the woodwork because of the book club!

Oh my gosh...someone asking me my opinion of Jane of Lantern Hill? Giving me an opportunity to talk about my FAVORITE LM Montgomery book??? A GIFT

First of all, about the blue castle book club: WELCOME!! I'm excited to read your thoughts as we approach these next chapters!! It is also one of my favorite LM Montgomery books and favorite books of all time, so I'd like to commend you on your taste. 😌 Rilla and Walter absolutely deserve the top two spots in the Blythe kid ranking as well!

I've written a post about Jane before, but I'll happily repeat some of my thoughts here.

I think Jane of Lantern Hill was one of the last LM Montgomery books I read. After reading so many, you develop expectations about who the main character of an LM Montgomery novel is. Without fail - Anne, Emily, the Story Girl, Rilla, Pat, Valancy Stirling- all of them are dreamy, sensitive, and poetic. This definitely ranges - Valancy is more acerbic than Anne, who is gentler than Emily, who is less ditzy than Rilla - but I think it's safe to say these are the hallmarks of an LM Montgomery main character (excluding short stories - never forget alexander abraham).

Jane is a wee bit of an outlier in this respect. While Valancy pores over John Foster, and Emily and Anne write poetry, and the Story Girl keeps audiences spellbound--Jane is noted to be brilliant in math. She definitely possesses many of the hallmarks listed above, from hating ugly houses to having a flair for reciting, but Jane has a hard practicality that isn't quite as present in the others. Unlike Anne, for example, Jane is very down to earth. That's why she's probably (okay this changes like every day but still) my favorite LM Montgomery heroine; I find her competence and sense appealing.

Now that I think about it, the book shares a lot in common with the Blue Castle. Much like Valancy, Jane is miserable at the beginning of her book, and much like Valancy, the book focuses on her finding a safe space and making it her own in a way. However, if The Blue Castle is romantic, Jane of Lantern Hill is cozy. It is extremely re-readable to me because it is the epitome of cozy. Jane also has to learn to stand on her own two feet and gain her own autonomy, but on its on a homier scale than Valancy's is.

Andrew Stuart is also one of my favorite male characters LM Montgomery has ever written. He holds strong in the top three with Walter and Barney every time. He's technically (on the most technical of technicalities) a romantic interest, but the lens of the book is Jane, and so the lens on Andrew is as a father - and this, this is where the book really shines.

Also, as I've written before, Jane of Lantern Hill is about father-daughter relationships in the most heartwarming way. Jane of Lantern Hill is a love story, but it's the love between a father and his daughter. Andrew Stuart, for all his flaws, is an exceedingly likeable character. Jane--and through Jane, the reader--feels safe with him, and it comes through on almost every page. I think this is what makes the book so cozy. It's the story of a little girl who lives a very cold and lonely life, only to find someone who loves her very much and in that someone, a home.

#also the grandmother is one of the best villains lm montgomery has ever written #jane of lantern hill #lm montgomery

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romerona · 1 year

Text

1-2-3 She's out.

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ꜰɪɴᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ɪᴛ ꜰɪɴᴅꜱ ʏᴏᴜ. ꜰᴏʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴇᴍᴇʀꜱᴏɴ, ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ꜰɪɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ, ɪᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ꜱᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴏꜰꜰ ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴇᴇᴛ… ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ.

Harry James Potter x OC

Marauders alive. Wolfstar.

Masterlist.

---------------------------

The Library of Hogwarts, a pinnacle of knowledge for all witches and wizards, a testament to the knowledge that the older generation entrusted to the new ones through their studies, experiments, adventures, and experiences of their own written down on blank pages for all to learn from them, a place for all those that sought out the unknown.

Love inhales selfishly the smell of old pages, bound in leather and pressed parchment, a comforting, familiar scent that she loved since her early life as golden light shining through the glass windows, casting the final light of the day over the worn-out books she was trying to read over but unfortunately failing in doing so, all thanks to the one and only Draco Malfoy, who had taken it upon himself to criticize every little thing about their new professor, Remus Lupin and occasionally taking hits at Hagrid too.

"I can't understand for the life of me what was going through Dumbledore's old skull when he decided to hire such people to teach us," He scoffs, leaning back against his chair, his green robe has been discarded once he arrived at their meeting spot. "One of greatest wizards of all time, yeah right. Shame he was allowed to return last year, he should keep away from Hogwarts in my opinion, we are better off without him–"

"Stop leaning against your chair before you fall and give yourself another injury." Love drawls from her book glancing at his bound-up right arms before turning back to read the same paragraph once again. "Thought I hardly call that an injury."

Draco narrow his eyes at her, Love could feel the heated glare but she continued to read unbothered by it. "It is a serious injury and I didn't cause it to myself, Love, it was that bloody half-breed's and his stupid bird's fault."

"Debatable, very debatable." Love mumbles, glancing at the parchment next to her and then at the books comparing texts before it was abruptly snapped shut and out of her reach, making her look up at the Slytherin boy with a glare who was still glaring back, what Draco just did was one of her biggest pet peeves and he knew that. "Really?"

"It's impolite to not look when someone is speaking to you." He shrugged with an air of indifference.

"Draco, I'm close to finishing my Kappa's essay," Love said, trying to keep her nerves settled "I promise once I'm done you'll have my undivided attention since you so much need it, so just give me the book."

He rolled his eyes, scoffing once again taking the book out of her hold when she tried to reach for it. "I wouldn't worry so much about it, Lupin hardly looks like someone who can read,"

Love purses her lips, closes her eyes and sighs, she just wants to finish the bloody essay so she can start with her Herbology work and Draco was making it very hard for her to do so, normally he was a... tolerable study partner but today she couldn't stand him, and the fastest way to get him to give her the book back was if she gives him her attention.

"Alright, what is it?" She said, opening her eyes to look at the boy in front of her.

Draco smirked triumphantly, still holding the book. "I want you to admit my injuries are severe and that the half-breed it's at fault."

She should just admit it to get Draco to give her the book back, to just give him what he wants per usual because in his mind he was always right, it was easy and quick but she couldn't.

"Why would I do that?" Love asks crossing her arms, looking at the way a frown was making its way to his pale face.

"Because it's the truth, look at my arm, Love"

"Draco, be reasonable right now." Love gave him a deadpan look. "There's nothing wrong with your arm now, Madam Pomfrey fixed it up for you, and the instructions–"

"Why are you siding with that filthy half-breed?" Draco sneered at her.

Love sighs again, getting tired of hearing the same story. "I'm just saying both of you are at fault, he shouldn't have brought such dangerous creatures to class but you didn't follow instructions, which were relatively easy."

"Are you daring to call me stupid?" He drawls, silver colour eyes hardening towards the girl.

"That's not what I–"

"The only one stupid here is you, Love." Draco cuts her off, his voice sharp enough to cut deeply. "You can't even see how people walk all over you, so I'm not surprised you can't understand that I'm right on this situation, but what am I expecting from a muggle-born?"

Love gritted her teeth looking away from him. It did hurt a bit, but she was used to harsh words from him every once in a while, whenever he loses his cool demeanour he tends to let his tongue have a mind of its own, though, she often wonders if there was some truth behind what he says. Anger brings out hidden feelings, after all.

"Screw you, Draco." Love said, gathering her belongings angrily. To shit with her essay, she couldn't be near him when he was like this.

"Right, be mad at me for telling you the truth," Hisses the boy, throwing the book on the table. "Go run to your precious Half-breed in his last days in Hogwarts."

Love ignored him, she quickly stood up from the table, not wanting to stay longer - or just enough to put her things in her bag- and stomped away, huffing angrily as she left the library to her Common Room.

He was wrong, Love would know if anyone was walking over her. Sure, she might be a bit nicer than necessary but she liked helping her classmates whenever she could, she was thought since she was a little girl to help people who needed it.

But then again, it could be true, maybe she wasn't noticing it but people around her did, an outside point of view could see it all and they don't say anything because it benefited them for her not to know, to keep her in the dark, maybe she was being walked all over, and the only one who told her the truth was Draco... But her friends, Padma and Emma wouldn't let that happen, right? They would at least tell her something, right?

Yes, they would. She trusts her friends with her life, they would never let people take advantage of her kindness. She knows they wouldn't, just as she would never let anyone take advantage of them in any way, shape or form, and Love shouldn't doubt that for a second.

She was just overthinking, per usual. Her head had been a real mess lately, it had been weeks and she still hasn't found her journal, no matter how many times she has searched for it, how many times she had turned upside down her room, her common room, the damn school, it hadn't appeared. Love even went as far as to ask Filch if he had seen her book, but he only laughed in her face and told her to lose hope, he said and quote, 'All that gets lost, Hogwarts takes away.'Creepy but as much as hated to admit it, she was starting to believe it was true.

That was the main crisis in her life, the main stress, plus, since the day of the Boggart, Snape has been very sensitive about that topic and he had his students suffer for it, though she heard the Gryffindors had it the worst, and Neville was getting bullied even worst now. Poor boy, it wasn't his fault, if anything the guilty for that boggart was Snape's himself. He was the one who likes to violate the boy just because he could, hence why Neville was terrified of him, it was common sense.

A gasp broke out of her when she felt the stairs shuffle making her collide with someone, and sending her things flying to the ground. Just Great. She closed her eyes and sighs not wanting to acknowledge anything yet.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said an unfamiliar voice as the stairs stop moving.

Love opened her eyes to catch an oddly familiar pair of green ones, which for some reason widened as if surprised.

Looking at the person better, Love came to the realization it was the famous Harry Potter, she sighs waving her hand dismissively. "It's not your fault."

She kneeled to pick up her books, and other trinkets when the Gryffindor boy mirrored her actions quickly, a little too quickly and with a bit of force making Love wonder for a moment if had fractured his knees from the impact.

"It's okay, really," Love gazes at him but his eyes were firmly on the scattered books.

He shook his head nervously, black hair swaying at the movement. "N-No, I- it's my fault, let me help you."

"It's not, it's the damn moving stairs," Love lets him help, as he picks up a couple of parchments off the floor. She giggles softly, "They are a bloody menace if you ask me, it's a miracle I haven't fallen off them."

"Well, I wasn't paying attention where I was walking, so, I guess I have some fault too," Harry said, glancing at her quickly.

"With that logic, it would be both of our faults since I wasn't paying attention either," Love said, picking up the last of her books, her hand clashing with Harry's for a second making both of them pull back awkwardly, "Sorry," Love stood up as Harry grabbed it quickly before standing up as well.

"But to be fair," Love continues with her previous statement. "These stairs have little room to move around, so it's not our fault but the founder's for making such small, tricky stairs." A grin made its way to Love's face as the boy frowns looking at the large stairs, then at her, once he glance at her and quickly realized what she was meaning.

He chuckles softly, his eyes catching hers again "Right, they should have been more considered about the students who daze away from their trail."

"It would have only been the right thing to do."

She smiles at him, and an awkward silence stretches as he continues to stare at her. Love cleared her throat looking at his hands which were still holding her books. "So, uhm- can you pass my books before the staircase moves again and this time actually sends me flying off of them?" She joked.

"I would catch you." Harry blurred, taking Love by surprise.

She blinked, bemused and confused. "What?"

"I- erm," he clear his throat, his cheeks turning a shade of soft crimson as he looked away. "I would catch you, if- if you fall."

Love couldn't help but smile, holding back a chuckle. "For those people who say chivalry is dead, they have yet to meet Harry Potter, do you often offer to catch people falling from the stairs?"

Harry glanced back at her, his own mouth parting in a smile, his cheeks still as pink as they were moments before. "Not really, just—

He was cut off by the movement beneath them, once again the stairs move. Love threw her hand to hold onto the handrail as the sudden change caused her to stumble a bit, she kind of hated the stairs when they move.

Finally, when they stopped moving, Love decided she had enough of them, she turned to the emerald gazed boy. "Okay, this would be my stop."

That snapped him out, and he quickly nodded and gave her the book he was holding tight to. "Oh, right, sorry."

Love quickly shoved them into her bag as Harry Potter grabbed something from the ground again, his broom, that's when Love finally noticed he was in his quidditch uniform, which was wet and covered in mud.

"Thanks for the help." Love gave Harry one last smile.

"No, thank you—"

Love frowns lightly at his words, they didn't make any sense and by the looks of it, Harry had realized that as well as he turned a deeper shade of pink. Love finally giggle, his facial expression was too funny not to.

"What I meant was— erm, you know—"

"No problem, Potter," She chuckled again, before continuing her route to her common room. "I'll see you around,"

"Yeah, brilliant, I'll- I'll definitely see you around."

Love chose to ignore his last statement and continue to climb up the stairs, yet a smile formed on her face. He was really nervous for some reason, it was kind of funny.

'What can you break, even if you never pick it up or touch it?'

Love breathes out the answer tiredly after walking up the stairs, that is the one thing she didn't like about her common room, the number of stairs she had to climb to get there.

The bronze eagle flaps its wings once and the door opens without another second to waste, letting the girl inside. Looking around, Love noticed Emma sitting alone at one table and moves towards him, letting herself fall onto one of the sofas with a tired sigh.

"Shut up, I'm trying to read," Emma mumbles, not even bothering to look up knowing that the only persons who would dare to sit at the same table as he was would be Love or Padma.

"Is it a good book?" Love asks, glancing at the cover. Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. C. S. Lewis.

"I'm trying to figure that out, but annoying twats keep interrupting me."

Love rolled her eyes, and she stayed quiet for a few seconds, granting Emma his wish before she spoke again. "Where's Padma?"

"Do I look like her bodyguard?" Emma huffs annoyed, putting his book down to look at Love. "Why would I know?"

"Because when I left you were with her?" Love gave him a hard look which was borderline amused.

Emmanuel rolls his eyes and shrugs. "I don't know, I think Anthony Goldstein came to tell her something about Rogers needing her."

"So, she's in a Quidditch meeting," Love concludes, she leans back into her chair, letting her gaze travel to the nearby window, looking at the night sky, her mind went back to the nights she spend in Shanghai, how she and her family would stargaze every night without fail.

She should send them a letter soon.

"Hogsmeade is the 31, by the way."

At his voice, Love turns to her friend frowning. "What?"

"The trip to Hogsmeade," Emma didn't glance up from his book but nudged his head in the direction of the bulletin board where a couple of people hanged about. "Clearwater posted the bulletin a few hours ago."

Love's eyes shinned as she perked up from her seat, looking at the board and then at Emma. "Oh, that's great, I can't wait to visit Honeyduks."

"I'm more interested in the shrieking shack, I overheard that one could still hear the shrieks coming from it if you get close enough." Emma shared, slightly excited.

"And you want to hear them?" Love questions, suspiciously.

Emma shrugged, but a small smirk made its way to his face before he could answer, Padma slumped down next to Love and groaned.

"At Six in the bloody morning. Roger wants us to train at six in the morning," Padma grumbles, running a hand over her face. "Not even the sodding ghosts are awake at that time."

"Reckon ghosts don't sleep," Emma mumbles.

Padma rolled her eyes and kick his leg with her foot. "Shut up, you know what I meant, besides, it's just insane, who in their right mind would set practice at that hour?"

"All of this is for you to train so we can win the cup this year," Emma asked, frowning at his friend's lack of professionalism. "Or are you telling me you don't want to win the cup?"

"Don't be stupid, of course, I do, don't get me wrong I obviously want to win but this just seems a bit extreme."

"Well, on the bright side it's better than the Gryffindors," Love told her, making Padma glance at her. "I just passed Harry Potter in his uniform all wet and covered in mud from the field, at least it won't rain at six in the morning, I hope."

"I take rain any day over get up early." Padma huffed, placing her arm over her eyes.

Love places a hand on the girl's forehead affectionately. "Work hard now and be proud later,"

"Yeah, yeah, easy for you to say when you're not the one who has to wake up at six in the bloody morning."

"Emerson, is this yours?" A feminine voice called from behind her.

Love turned to see an older Ravenclaw girl holding a very familiar green amphibious in her hands making her gape at it. "Hoppy, how–?"

"I found him near the entrance," said the older Ravenclaw as she gave her the toad who croak when he settled on her hand. "Looks like he got lost or maybe he was trying to make a run for it."

Love frowns glancing down at her croaking toad."I hope not, anyways thank you for giving him back."

"No problem."

With that, the girl walks away leaving the trio and the amphibious behind. Love holds Hoppy in her palm, inspecting the toad for any harm that might come to him when he was on his little adventure.

"You were sleeping on my bed this afternoon, how did you get from there to here?" Love mumbles looking at his blinking yellow eyes.

"Maybe he's going through a rebellious phase?" Padma offers, returning to her self-pity after a moment. "Y'know running away from home and all that."

Love hums looking down at her toad, "Maybe, but don't go turning into Trevor now."

"I kind of want to get a pet," Emmanuel told them, placing his book down.

"What do you have in mind?" Love asks as she places Hoppy on her shoulder. "A cat perhaps?"

"An owl?" Padma added, looking up at the starry ceiling.

"It's not like I have many options." Emma purses his lips and shrugged. "Anyways, it's just a thought, I might not be ready for the responsibility yet."

"Fair..."

🤍

"What do you think you're doing, Mr Salazar?" Snape's cold voice drawls around the potions classroom as he stands in front of Emmanuel, who tensed up at the professor's words.

Emma glance at him before looking down at his potion, they were working on Anti-Paralysis Potion, and it was an extensive potion, they could use all the help they could get. "What you told us to, sir."

"Is your stature affecting your hearing?" The professor sneers, staring down his hooked nose at Emmanuel. "I did not tell you to mix the Mandrakes roots with the lacewing flies yet, that is after you blend the ginger with the water, which you are not doing."

Love shared a look with Padma before glancing at her other friend who was turning a deep shade of pink. From under the table, she grabbed his hand which was turning white at how tight he was clenching it and tried to smooth it open.

"Professor, but the book says–" Padma tried to speak but she was cut off by the older man.

"You do what I told you to," Professor Snape sends Padma a sharp look, "And when I tell you to do what the book says you do it which I did not today. Back to your potions, those who don't get it done today will have to make an essay on it for the next class."

"Throw that away and do it again," Snape continued, he tap his wand on the corner of Emmanuel's cauldron and in the next instant, its blue colour changed to bright yellow, not at all how it was supposed to go.

"It's going to take me all class," Emma mumbled, his eyes meeting Snape's for a short moment.

"Then we should learn how to listen and follow instructions." With one last look of disdain, he turn on his heel to scrutinize a couple of Hufflepuffs potions who stiffened when the professor approached them.

Finally managing to hold the boy's hand, Love to tighten her hold three times in return he holds her hand tightly before having to stand up to throw the potion away.

Love turns back to her potion, which in her opinion, it was the hardest potion she ever made so far. Beds of sweat dripped down her forehead as she grinds the bitterroot - which to her feels like they are made out of diamond– to a fine powder so she could add it to the potion and let it seemer.

She grinded with all her strength in hopes to accelerate the process, she didn't want to do another essay this week, alas she usually enjoys doing potion homework but this week has been a bit shit, so she rather not get any work for the weekend.

After what felt like a lifetime, the bell rang, and mostly no one got to the potion right, Love was thankful that she was not one of them, but her friends were not that lucky.

"I just don't get why he has to be such a massive cunt," Emmanuel huffs angrily as they sat on the edge of the fountain in the middle of the courtyard.

It was a nice day, one of the last to have sunlight and warmth which was rare in October. So, the trio decided to spend their free period outside before charms.

"Professor Dumbledore should revise his staff more often because Snape could use some examination." Love mumbles, head looking up at the sky, eyes closed as she let the sunlight fall on her face.

"Snape needs to be sacked, he does," Padma grunted, from next to Love, whilst doing her Astronomy chart homework she had forgotten about.

"You got that right," Emma said angrily, crossing his arms and shaking his head vexingly. "He even deserves more than to be sacked. He should go to prison, I don't understand what it is about me that he enjoys harassing.— Padma, if you answer I swear to Merlin."

"Hey, I wasn't going to say anything, that you thought I would it's your own mind coming up with answers." Padma snickers, earning a nasty glare and a slap on the arm from the boy. "Sorry, Sorry, I promise Emma the only one who has deep problems here is snape,"

Love hummed in agreement, "It's him, not you."

"... Thanks," Emma mumbled bashfully.

"Anyway, in another piece of news guess what Parvati told me– uh, why is Harry Potter coming this way?"

Opening her eyes, Love watches in confusion as the boy nervously walked towards them.

🤍

The night the September 1 of 1991 was a very memorable evening for Harry Potter, because not only it was his first time in Hogwarts, the place his parents and uncles talk about so much and with so much nostalgia and fondness, the place he had been counting the days to go since he could remember, the place he was meant to make a home out of. He also met her.

Harry Potter often likes to remember the first time he met Love Emerson. He could remember every little detail of his interaction with her.

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron Weasley, who had been a friend of Harry's for the longest time whispered. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Harry didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment, not to mention, he wanted– no, he needed to be in Gryffindor, like his whole family had been because regardless of what his mum and father says, that all houses are great and that they'll be proud of him wherever he gets sorted, he knew that deep down they were hoping he gets sorted in their former house, so it was making it all feel a bit worse.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause --

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all, he'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot.

He was starting to feel definitely sick now. He didn't want to disappoint his family, what if Ron gets into Gryffindor and he doesn't? Or worst what if he gets sorted into Slytherin? His father and uncle Sirius would love that.

His train of thought, or more like the nervous recked that was going on in his head was cut off short when he felt something softly bumping his arm making his head turn in that direction. It was a blonde girl, about his height, with bright blue eyes and pink cheeks.

"Sorry." She mumbled lowly and gave him an awkward smile. "The crowd's a bit crazy on my side, I couldn't count the many times someone had to dig their elbow in my ribs."

"It's alright." Harry smiled back at her dismissively, he thought that might have been the end of their conversation but it wasn't.

"This is awfully nerve-racking, isn't it?" The girl bit her lip as another student was called. "What house do you want to be sorted into?"

Harry turned to her again, meeting her nervous blue eyes which he was sure to mirror his own. "I hope I get into Gryffindor, my entire family has been sorted there."

"Ah, so you already knew about all of this?" The blonde girl quickly waves her hand motioning the hall.

"Not really," He thought for a second, he, of course, knew plenty of Hogwarts but not all as his parents and uncles wanted to keep a few parts a secret from him so he can experience them for the first time like the sorting, "Not all anyways, I thought we were going to do a spell or fight a troll."

"Now, that would have been quite tragic, to die before experiencing what the school was to offer would have definitely ruined my night but... it would have been a unique death, no doubt." She giggles making Harry smile a bit, he could help it, her laugh was contagious but his smile disappeared when he saw her eyes glance at his forehead.

He knew what was coming, It had occurred too many times for Harry not to know what was next. He brace himself for the unavoidable question to be thrown at him like it had a plethora of times before, for the question he hated for all the meaning behind it, for its–

"Has anyone ever told you that you have very lovely eyebrows?"

Harry blinked. "I– what?"

"They have a nice arch and they're the right amount of bushy," She told him, glancing at them. "My sister would be jealous of them–"

"Emerson, Love," McGonagall called making the girl's eyes widen.

She let out a nervous breath before walking away from him, leaving him more confused than ever. He watches as she sends the professor a nervous smile before sitting on the stool, – what did she mean by his eyebrows? Were they actually nice?-- the hat was placed on her head which cover half of her face, and it hummed — Nice arch? The right amount of bushy? What a weird girl– It took the hat a moment before he spoke.

"RAVENCLAW!!!"

When the hat was removed from her head, the girl was sporting the biggest smile, there was no more nervousness or awkwardness or anything other than excitement, her eyes gleaming as she sat down at the cheering table next to Terry Boot who was quick to offer her a handshake.

Harry didn't even notice he was staring until she looked back at him and send him a smile and a quick thumbs up before looking away when someone started to talk to her. Really, really weird girl.

He got sorted into Gryffindor, much to his relief, the hat attempted to get him into Slytherin but he would rather not talk about it now or ever, he'll take that secret to the grave. On better news, he couldn't wait to tell his parents, though he might be a bit worried about his father and uncles sending him a howler or something else more embarrassing but it's a risk he's willing to take.

Sitting on the red and golden table, chatting with Ron and his other peers about their families and trying the delicious treacle tart- which was just as good as his mother had told him it was if not better- he couldn't help as his eyes travel to the Ravenclaw table.

The weird girl was happily eating a chocolate pudding, laughing at something someone said before adding something of her own. It seems right for the hat to have sorted her in Ravenclaw, he didn't know much of the bunch other than they were the smart ones, and he didn't know the girl at all other than the little conversation they had, but for some reason, it made sense to him that she was in the blue and bronze house. Thought, for a single second he felt disappointed they weren't sorted in the same house but the thought went as quickly as it came.

She was still weird, he would probably never speak to her again a fact he should be pleased for.

But after that night, Harry's green eyes seemed to have a mind of their own for wherever he went he searched for the weird girl with charming blue eyes who told him he had lovely eyebrows, his brain betraying him as it memorize every class he had with the girl whose soft hair looks like honey, eventually his heart joined the rebellion against him and threatened to beat out of his chest whenever he saw the soft dimples on her cheeks when a laugh breaks out of her pretty pink lips.

Whenever the girl was around he couldn't work properly.

It took him a bit to realize what all that meant, he even considered sending a letter to his father but he then thought about it better and decided against it, so, he settle for Ron who was just as clueless, the third option was talking to Fred and George who after teasing him were very helpful and help him conclude that well, he fancied the weird Ravenclaw girl.

Harry Potter fancied Love Emerson.

"I know you enjoy gazing but stop staring at her before she catches you and thinks you're insane, mate." Ron's voice cut through his thoughts. "Then you'll really have zero chances with her."

"I'm not staring," Harry mumbles, looking away from the girl to the book in his hands trying to hide his crimson cheeks.

Ron scoffs as he leans on the pillar, he and Harry had been standing by for the past ten minutes in hopes that Harry gather enough courage to walk up to her. "You always do, it's a bloody miracle she hadn't caught you yet."

Harry didn't bother answering, he only sends his friend an annoyed look making him hold his arms up in defence.

"Come on, Harry, talk to her!" Ron encourages, placing a hand on his shoulder and sending him a grin. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Before Harry could muster a word, another voice beat him to it, a very familiar voice much to his dismay.

"Talk to who?"

"Dad, what are doing here?" Harry exclaimed turning to face his father and uncles who he had noticed were coming behind his father.

James gave him a cheery smile. "I told you I and Sirius would be making rounds a few days a week, did you forget after all the fun we have when we're here?"

"No, no I didn't. I couldn't even if I wanted to." Harry mutters, remembering a few embarrassing moments his father and uncle had made him go through in the past weeks.

"Good, I was starting to worry you had." James sends him a cheeky smile, not innocent at all before turning to Ron's eyebrows wiggling. "Ron, who is my son supposed to talk to? A boy? A girl perhaps?"

"Harry's talking with a girl?" Sirius's voice broke through as he came up to them, and next to him, Remus Lupin grinning at the boys. "And I'm the last one to know?"

"I'm not," Harry exclaimed, trying to keep his cheeks from heating up.

Ron scoffs loudly making Harry nudge him on the ribs with a sharp look.

"So, it is a girl?" James exclaimed eyes going wide, a smile forming on his face. "Who is she?"

Harry's eyes momentarily glance at Remus who was smiling knowingly having known about his nephew's crush since the first week of classes, he had called out Harry in class for staring but he hadn't specified who he was staring at, he just likes to startle him from time to time. Remus also tried to talk to him about it whenever Harry came by for a cuppa but he always avoided the subject like a plague, which was a bit of contrast with his father who always used to jump at every opportunity to talk about his crush on Lily.

Ron went to open his mouth but Harry clasped a hand over it. "No one, can we just go now?"

"Is it Ginny?" Sirius asks, eyes roaming about to try and find the ginger Gryffindor.

"What?" Ron shrieked, looking at Sirius with a frown similar to Harry's, both wondering how the man could have come to that conclusion. "No, Harry does not fancy my sister and never will, he fancies–"

Harry lunges towards him, the boys struggle against each other to keep the other from doing something, and then Remus spoke up making Harry freeze.

"Could the mystery girl be Love Emerson?"

Harry sends Remus a glare of betrayal which he exchanges with a borderline mischievous grin.

"Yes, that's her, sitting on the fountain." Ron panted, pointing at the courtyard.

Sirius, James and Remus turn in the direction the ginger boy was pointing, his father and uncle more eager than his uncle Remus.

"Is it the blonde?" Asked Sirius, tilting his head to get a better look.

Harry pursed his lips, sighing knowing there was no way he could avoid this any longer nor the heat from raising to his face and nodded. "....Yes, that's her."

His father turns to him, and his eyes seem to sparkle with humour and mischief.

"Love, eh? That's a pretty name. What's she like?" James said making Harry's blush spread down his neck

"He's never actually talked to her. He just stares." Ron answers for him, earning the attention of the adults. "He was raving about how he spoke to her the other day but I hardly believe it was an actual conversation."

"Ron," Harry sends him a glare, not wanting to turn to the waiting eyes of his family.

Ron sends him an apologetic look in return "Sorry, mate, but it's the truth, we've been sitting here for the past fifteen minutes waiting for you to give her her book back."

"What book?" Sirius asks, turning back to Harry in expectation.

"Reckon is the book he's clutching, Pads," Remus mumbles pointing at the leather journal in the boy's hands.

Sirius frowns. "Well, why haven't you?"

"It's just not that simple."

"What do you mean is not that simple?" James quizzes, sending his son an amused grin as he points at the object in his hands. "This is the perfect opportunity to chat with her, son, the perfect excuse to show her the Potter charisma."

"But... what do I tell her? Hey, here's your book, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me?" Harry huffs, shaking his head.

James nods eagerly. "I used to ask your out mum that way, look where it got me."

"Right, Lily rejected you until the seventh year and even then it was a stretch." Sirius scoffs a barking laugh.

"Well, it work in the end, didn't it?"

"Don't trust your father, Harry," Remus told the boy earning an outraged 'Oi' from the man. "Just go there, tell her you found the book laying around and wanted to give it back, then later when you see her again, try and talk to her about Hogsmeade, and if all goes right all will happen in due time."

"Yeah, go on Harry." Ron encourages once again.

Harry looked back at where the girl was taking the sun, he took a silent deep breath, his ears catching the comment of reassurance from his father and uncle as he walked forward. By how nervous he felt it might seem like he was going off to war or something like that, it was even worse knowing that his father, uncles and friend were witnessing this.

But Ron was right. What's the worst that could happen? He already spoke with her once– well twice if you count the first year– it went fine, dare he even say it went fantastic, she even touch his face, she laughed with him and smile at him, so Harry has high hopes that today could also go brilliant.

Before he knew it, he was standing right in front of Love, her eyes gazing up at him in confusion, he would have noticed the odd look her friends gave to each other if he hadn't been too immersed in Love.

"Yes?" She asks, sending him a puzzled grin.

"I–" He gulps before clearing his throat, glancing down at the object in his hands. "I- I wanted to give this back to you."

"Is that my journal?" Love asks eyes going wide as she spotted the leather-bound book.

"I believe so unless there's another Love Emerson around." Harry chuckles nervously as he attempts to joke.

"Not that I know of," Love stood up, eyes going between the book and the boy as she gave him a dazzling smile. "I've gone mad from looking for it for weeks... where did you find it?"

"Uh, y-you know, around."

Love laughs softly, shaking her head and walking a bit closer to him. "Of course, I've been breaking my head searching for it but Harry Potter finds it easily."

Now, Harry would never use the term feeling butterflies in his stomach, he didn't believe it was real, sure, he feels his nervous system failing him whenever Love was around and how thinks he might have a heart attack when she looks his general direction, yet he doesn't think he ever felt the said butterflies, but now, having her so close– she smells like coconut and expensive perfume– and her saying his name did something new to him.

His brain froze, which cause him to drop the journal to Love's feet hardly making her wince.

Feeling his whole face heating up, Harry quickly bent over to pick it up muttering a few sorry's while at the same time, Love did the same which he hadn't noticed until he bent back up and felt something hard hit the back of his head.

"Oww." Love groaned.

Harry's eyes widen and his mouth went dry when he saw Love holding her nose between her hands while Padma Patil and her other friend stood up to look at the girl.

"Holy– are you okay?" Padma asked, glancing at Harry and then back at Love.

The girl muttered something which no one could understand due to the hands that were covering part of her mouth.

The short boy grabbed her wrist in an attempt to free them from her nose. "Let me see."

Love winced as she drop her hands. Harry felt his stomach drop dramatically down to his feet, though he felt something heavier falling too he didn't look down to check, he didn't care, he couldn't, not when he saw the blood on her nose, which was dripping to her white shirt, staining it. "Is it bad?"

For Godrics sake, this is all going horribly, when did things take this turn? His head didn't even hurt that bad.

"Love, I-I'm so sorry–" He took a step towards Love while making a nervous attempt to apologize for causing her a broken nose when his foot slid with something making him stumble forward, in Love's direction, the force in which his body stumbled against her pushed the girl backwards, the back of her knees colliding with the side of the fountain forcing her to drop down into the water with a gasp but not before her head hit the statue of an odd looking bird that was in the middle of the fountain.

"Love!!" Both her friends cried, quickly moving into action.

Padma entered the water to grab the girl and the boy helped her to pull Love out of the water. She had a bit of blood running down her head making Harry feel slightly dizzy.

"She's out."The boy said worriedly as Padma got out of the fountain.

"Let's take her to Madam Pomfrey." Remus was quick to arrive, he swiftly gather Love into his arms, not worried about getting wet one bit and picked her up, "Come on."

Love's friends quickly gather all of their things including the damn journal which was for some reason back on the floor and followed Remus inside the castle, the commotion had gathered a few spectators, but Harry couldn't be bothered, he froze, he felt his soul leave his body, he was close to weeping, he wanted to die right then and there, he wanted to go up to the astronomy tower and throw himself off, he wanted to—-

"Harry, come on, son." He felt his father grab him by the shoulders and take him away from where he was standing, back to where it all began.

Sirius let out a breath from his nose, looking at his nephew— who was still in shock—with a hand covering his mouth. "Well, that went...." he didn't finish, he couldn't he only let out a sigh.

"Awful?" Ron mumbled, cringing a bit.

"It'll be okay, Harry." James send his son a sympathetic look as he hesitated. "I'm sure she'll forgive you, y'know, once she wakes up."

Harry, finally snapping out of it, groaned loudly, both hands covering his face in shame, embarrassment, distress, anger, too many emotions to count but one thing was undeniably true, he fucked up.

A/N: Hope you enjoy it. Tell me what you think about it.

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berryunho · 2 years

Text

THE ANSWER: XIX

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 7,878

As usual, you wake up with the morning bell.

It takes you a moment to remember where you are. Once you do, you spring up, jumping to your feet in Hongjoong’s living room.

“Good morning, princess.” You startle and wheel around to see Seonghwa standing in the kitchen area of the apartment. “Sleep well?” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

You bring a hand up to rub at your eyes, feeling them burn as you do so. You most certainly did not sleep well last night. Your entire body is sore and aching, though whether from your adventure last night or from sleeping on a couch, you’re not entirely sure.

You take in more of the room, trying to get your bearings. “Where’s Hongjoong?” You question, turning back toward Seonghwa.

“Getting ready for service, as you should too.” Seonghwa gives you a once over. “Christ, you’re filthy. You slept like that? On Hongjoong’s couch?”

You scoff. “When would I have had time to shower, genius?”

“It’s only been, I don’t know,” Seonghwa makes a show of pulling his sleeve back to look at his watch, “five hours since we got back. Maybe somewhere in there?”

You guess he has a point with that one, but you don’t even remember falling asleep. You were way too tired to care about showering. Apparently Hongjoong was, too, or he probably wouldn’t have let you sleep on his couch.

“The bathroom is in the bedroom, go shower before we have to go.” Seonghwa says, pointing to a closed door to his right. “I’ll get someone to bring you clean clothes.” He gives you another once over, not hiding the shudder that passes over him.

Your mind fails to produce a snarky remark, so you opt to shoot Seonghwa a look as you pass by him to reach the closed door. You grab the handle and twist, pushing the door open easily.

You step into the room, taking in all that you can. You don’t exactly know what you were expecting Hongjoong’s bedroom to look like, but it wasn’t this. You’re not sure if the room always looks like a tornado blew through it, but that’s certainly what it looks like now, as you stand in the doorway.

There’s loose paper all over the floor, reminding you of your university’s end-of-semester tradition of throwing schoolwork down the hallways like confetti. Ignoring the mess, the room looks mostly normal. There are more bookshelves in here, a desk, a bed, a dresser, and… that’s about it. You spot what must be the door to the bathroom on the right wall, but you hesitate before walking further.

You slowly squat to the floor, your thighs searing with the motion. You ignore the pain, however, in favor of reaching for the piece of paper closest to you. It’s a piece of lined notebook paper, the frilly edges still attached, with a single line written in the middle of the page, along with the date.

11/17/18 I found her.

Before even a thought is able to cross your mind about the sentence, a hand is on your shoulder. “Do you have any respect for anyone?” Seonghwa’s voice comes from over you, his free hand reaching around to pluck the piece of paper out of your hands. He pulls you up by your shirt, making you stand as he drops the paper to another area of the floor. “Seriously, can you follow a single direction? Do I need to help you bathe? Are you that incompetent?”

You jerk your shoulder, pulling your shirt out of Seonghwa’s grasp. “You’re such a creep.” You straighten your shirt with your hands as you look to the floor, carefully stepping over other loose papers scattered about. You open the door to the bathroom, glad to see a very plain, average bathroom.

You move to shut the door behind you, but Seonghwa quickly stops you with his tone. “Don’t shut the door.”

“Are you serious?” You ask, turning to face Seonghwa, who is still standing by the entrance of the bedroom.

Seonghwa shrugs, “Can’t have any funny business going on, princess.”

You squint at Seonghwa. “What are you implying, exactly?”

His face contorts into a half-disgusted, half-disappointed face, “I meant I can’t have you trying to kill yourself, but if that’s the place your mind went…” He trails off before shaking his head, making his expression blank again. “Just leave the door cracked.”

You huff as you turn back into the bathroom, closing the door as much as possible without actually shutting it. You take a glance in the mirror, not really wanting to see how bad you assume you look. In just a quick look, you can see a smattering of dirt on your face and clothes, your hair looking equally as unkempt and messy.

You peek into the shower, thankful that the knob is one that you understand how to work. Having to ask Seonghwa how to turn on the shower would truly be the last embarrassment you could take today, and the day has hardly begun.

Turning the shower on, you speedily undress and hop in, thankful that the water had gotten warm already. You go about your business, scrubbing your body and washing your hair. To your relief, Hongjoong has both shampoo and conditioner, which you have come to understand is a big ask for some men.

About half way through rinsing your hair, a gentle hand knocks a couple times against the door. You freeze, unsure if you should peek your head out of the opaque curtain or even acknowledge the tapping.

“Uh, (Y/n)?” You’re surprised to hear San’s voice come through the opening of the door. “Sorry to interrupt, uh, really sorry. But I brought you clean clothes?” He states the sentence like a question. “I, um, yeah, sorry, uh, I’m going to come in so I can set these in here for you, okay?”

“Okay.” You raise your voice a bit so that you can hopefully be heard over the running water.

The door hinge squeaks slightly as it opens, “I’m coming in…” San trails as you hear a couple footsteps come into the room. “Okay, they’re just sitting on the vanity, and, uh, I brought towels, too. I’ll leave now.” His sentence is punctuated by the sound of the door hitting the frame, but still not closing all of the way.

You finish up your shower, feeling very much refreshed as you reach for the towels San brought you. You quickly dry off and get dressed, assessing yourself in the mirror now that you’re feeling better.

The shower definitely helped your appearance, though you still don’t look the greatest you’ve ever looked. Gee, wonder why? You roll your eyes, examining the outfit that San had brought you. It’s the usual work pants and button up, the Sign of the Answer pinned to the collar that you hadn’t fully buttoned. You stare at the symbol in the mirror, the lights of the bathroom glinting off of the metal. It’s almost mesmerizing, but you pry your eyes away, opting to leave the bathroom.

To your surprise, San is sitting at the desk in the corner of the bedroom, awkwardly playing with his fingers. The papers had been picked up off of the floor and are now stacked neatly in front of San, though he pays them no mind. His head turns at your movement, and he quickly hops out of the chair when he realizes that you’re there. “Sorry for sitting here all creepily, Seonghwa had to leave and told me to wait for you. Right here.”

You nod, believing his explanation well enough. The two of you stand in silence, and you take the time to take in San’s appearance. He’s dressed similarly to yourself, though he has suspenders wrapped around his shoulders and jewelry adorning his neck. It’s the first time you’ve seen San since you were in the infirmary, and you’re not exactly displeased that it had been him sent to get your clothes.

Though you still don’t fully trust him, considering he was your first point of contact with this place, and essentially the very reason you’re trapped here, you can’t deny that there’s… something about him. Probably the way his face looks like it was personally sculpted by the hands of God.

He takes a few steps closer to you, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, “Listen, (Y/n)... Are you okay?”

That question again. You shrug in response, not sure what to say.

San takes another step toward you, little space remaining between the two of you anymore. He looks down at you, his hand coming up to hover over your shoulder. “Can I touch you?” He asks quietly, placing his hand down onto you once you nod in approval. “I mean this seriously. Are you okay? Are you going to hurt yourself?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. This is the second time someone’s said something of that nature. “I don’t plan on it.” You state, genuinely meaning it. Killing yourself would accomplish exactly none of your goals at the moment. “Why?”

San blinks. “It’s happened a couple times.”

Your eyes widen as you realize what San is telling you. So there have been others like you, then? People that refused to get sucked into… whatever this is.

“Promise that you’ll come to me,” San starts, still wearing a serious expression, “if you ever get that desperate. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Okay?” You agree, though you’re not sure why San would think that he would be someone that you would want to go to in that situation. “Thanks, San.” You add as an afterthought, appreciating the offer at least.

“I mean it. It should never get to that point.” He squeezes your shoulder. “Other than that, are you okay? Any cuts or bruises or…” San’s eyes trail down your exposed arms, assessing for any damage.

You shake your head, extending your arms to show that they’re intact.

“Great,” San smiles, his eyes crinkling with the expression. “If you’re ready, we should probably head to the chapel?”

He drops his hand from your shoulder once you nod, confirming that you’re ready. If there is such a thing as being “ready” for whatever you’re about to hear Hongjoong rattle on about.

The two of you make your way out of the apartment, heading down the stairs. It seems that the majority of the crowd has already made it downstairs or outside, as you two are left alone in your journey.

You pause on one of the landings, a question bubbling to the forefront of your mind. “Um, San,” you start, getting the man’s attention. He stops as well, turning his head to face you. “Does everyone… know?”

Not that you’re really that concerned about the other Followers knowing about your escape attempt, really… if not for Mingi.

The thought of Mingi knowing about your attempted escape is, honestly, kind of embarrassing. If he knew that you tried to leave, how would that make him feel? Would he feel like you betrayed him by trying to leave him behind? Surely he would understand that you would’ve come back for him, right? Or would he feel betrayed to find that you don’t believe in the Answer, whatever that even entails? Would he be sad? Angry?

San shakes his head at you. “No, don’t worry. Just us bigwigs. Hongjoong doesn’t like sharing these stories, just in case they, well, you know, inspire the others.”

“Ahhh,” you let your voice trail off to silence as San resumes walking down the stairs, with you following. You suppose that settles one of your concerns, but there is another issue beginning to weigh on your mind.

Surely, there must be a punishment for your actions in store. What will it be? How serious will it be? If Hongjoong meant to kill you for the transgression, he would’ve had it happen last night, he made that clear enough. But what other punishment could there be? You vaguely remember Seonghwa telling you something about him beating even women for Hongjoong, but whether that was just a threat or the honest truth still remains a mystery.

There’s no way Hongjoong would have you beaten. Absolutely no way. Right? If he cares about you so much…

Speaking of which, what the hell was that dream last night? Was that a dream? It must’ve been, there’s no other explanation. Hongjoong, murderer and cult leader, crying over you? Pleading with you to forgive him? That is simply not the reality of the situation that you are in. If anything, the mere thought that it was a dream warrants some serious soul-searching on your own part. Why are you dreaming about cuddling with Hongjoong, huh?

None of last night really makes any sense at all. In all honesty, the entire night feels like a dream, not just when you arrived back to the compound. Already, the memories are gaining a hazy glow about them, like the events happened so long ago that they are becoming hard to recall. You can probably attribute that to the exhaustion you were feeling at the time, and the fact that it happened so late at night… but it’s still a bit odd, nevertheless.

But that really isn’t relevant. What is relevant, however, is what the hell is supposed to happen now. What will your punishment be? What will your next plan be? When is the next time that you will be able to act? Will there be another opportunity?

… Of course there will be, it will just be a matter of time.

Before you know it, San and yourself are stepping out the front door and headed toward the chapel. Now that you’re outside, you catch a few glimpses of fellow stragglers still headed to service, though it does seem that the two of you will be the last to join.

When you reach the steps, San scales them quickly, offering his hand to you to guide you up the couple steps. You take it lightly, though pull back as soon as you’re up the steps. As attractive as San might be, you have to keep your wits about you. Like he said, he’s a ‘bigwig.’ He is ultimately responsible for you being stuck here…

As per usual, the doors are being held open by a couple people that you can’t recall meeting before. You still offer a small smile as you pass by, not entirely forgetting the manners that you were raised with despite the uncomfortableness of the situation. To be fair, those two people are probably just as innocent as you are. They don’t deserve a cold shoulder or an attitude.

San ducks into the chapel first, leading the way up the rows. To your dismay, he walks all the way to the front, turning back to smile at you and gesture for you to slide onto the pew first. You quickly glance around, trying to find another person that you could excuse yourself to sit with.

While you are able to spot Mingi and Yunho sitting together, their row is entirely full. Yunho gives you a small wave when he notices you looking, and you have to resist the urge to squint at him. Though you haven’t confirmed that Yunho was the one that snitched on you, really, who else could it have been?

You look to the other side of the room and find Nayeon and Seungmin, though, again, their pew is already full of other worshippers.

Welp, that decides it for you.

Sighing, you turn back to San and take his offer, sliding onto the first pew. You scootch until you’re sitting within a few inches of the next person on the bench, who turns to glare at you as soon as he can.

“Have fun last night?” Jongho whispers to you in a tone that is much less than kind. “You better have, because you destroyed rows upon rows of corn.”

Not sure how to respond, you quickly turn away, trying your best to not incur any more of his wrath.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Jongho demands, his voice still not raising above a whisper.

Your whip back to face him once more, having not expected him to say anything more. “Sorry?”

“You better be,” Jongho sneers, “I’ve told Hongjoong this already, but let me make it clear to you as well. If I find you in my fields— no, if I even hear about you in my fields again— it won’t end as nicely as it did last night. Got it?”

You do your best to keep your expression neutral, though that is quite a task when your life is being threatened. Again unsure of how to respond, you simply nod at Jongho, your eyes wide.

Jongho tuts as he turns away from you, crossing his arms over his chest.

You do the same, though you place your hands on your thighs in an attempt to stealthily wipe the nervous sweat off of your palms. Seriously, what is Jongho’s problem with you? You glance over at San, wondering if he had just been witness to that exchange, but you find that he’s engrossed in conversation with Wooyoung on his other side.

Not even a minute passes before you hear the doors creaking shut behind you, the room slowly plunging into darkness that is broken only by the two windows by the entrance. At the back of the chapel, their light hardly reaches you.

In the time that you had had between your release from the infirmary and your escape attempt, you had grown used to the pattern of these services. Hongjoong would come in, make some grand statement, spout some bullshit, make announcements, and get on with his day. You memorized the motions of the crowd, the responses to make, the way to behave… but you still refused to follow them.

Nothing has changed. You don’t duck your head as you hear Hongjoong’s footsteps coming down the aisle of the chapel. You turn to face him instead, watching as he struts his way to the stage in front of you.

As usual, he smiles at your small rebellion.

Today, he’s wearing his normal clothes, the work clothes that blend in with everyone else. Seonghwa trails behind Hongjoong in his typical, oddly military fashion. And, as usual with Seonghwa, he’s glaring at you.

You smile just to provoke Seonghwa, raising your hand to wiggle your fingers at him in a mock wave.

If you’re already going to feel their wrath, might as well have a little fun with it.

When they reach the stage, Seonghwa sits on the same pew as yourself, albeit on the other side of Yeosang, who sat next to Wooyoung, who sat next to San, who sat next to you. Hongjoong takes his seat on his chair-throne-hybrid, giving you one last tight-lipped smile before starting. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” The crowd answers, their heads hanging toward their laps.

“Rise.” Hongjoong commands, the heads quickly following.

And thus begins Hongjoong’s normal shenanigans. You find yourself lapsing in attention, your eyelids heavy despite having just woken up. You half-way drowse through the service, struggling to keep yourself awake. Hongjoong’s voice is honestly a bit relaxing when he’s on his tangents, his way of speaking generally being quite soft.

Hearing your name snaps you out of your daze.

“(Y/n) and San will be living together, from now on. I have given them my blessing, and I hope you all will follow suit.”

You quickly look up at Hongjoong, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. He looks like he’s resisting the urge to laugh, a particular glint in his gaze daring you to say something. You opt to look over at San instead, only to see him looking just as surprised as yourself.

“As a community, we must encourage dependability and foster connections where we can. San and (Y/n) are fated to have a connection in Universe One, and thus they must have one here. Hence,” Hongjoong clears his throat, obviously stifling a laugh, “they will be brought together in this way.”

You look back over to San, who is still looking just as shocked as you feel. He turns to look at you, as if trying to ask if you knew about this. You do your best to convey that you also had no idea, though there is really only so much you can do through an expression. You gently shrug your shoulders.

Hongjoong continues on with his sermon, though you do not continue paying attention. Instead, you worry about what exactly Hongjoong means by ‘living together.’ As in, living together in one of those small rooms? Does San have a nicer room than you? Or will you get an apartment, like the married couples? No, hold on, because you will not be getting married— even spiritually— to anyone here, especially not San. What is Hongjoong’s goal with this?

Once he wraps up his announcements for the day, Hongjoong stands. As per usual, everyone else remains sitting, waiting for their leader to excuse himself before rising to their feet.

Instead of walking straight out of the chapel, however, Hongjoong motions to you and San, beckoning the two of you to follow with him.

You both obey, stumbling to your feet in shock to follow Hongjoong, hopeful for an explanation. Seonghwa follows after you, falling in line.

Hongjoong swings the door open, the morning sunlight instantly pouring into the chapel and nearly blinding you. How he is able to do that so easily, you will never know. You blink quickly in an attempt to adjust to the light as you follow behind Hongjoong as he leads your small group back to the main building.

Once you arrive, he heads straight for the stairs, scaling them without checking to make sure that his posse is still with him. Your group walks in silence up the stairs to the final level of the compound.

Now that it’s not the middle of the night, the lights are on and you can take in much more of the hallway than you had been able to last night. There are more doors than you had realized, though definitely not as many as on the lower floors. Hongjoong leads you about halfway down the hall before stopping in front of a door, resting his hand on the knob.

He finally turns to look at the three of you, a grin that can truly only be described as cheeky spreading across his features. “Welcome to your new apartment,” he twists the handle, pushing the door inward. “Let’s talk.” He gestures for you to enter the apartment first, his hand resting flat against the door to keep it open.

San follows the direction first, resting a gentle hand on your back as he slides past you. Seonghwa is not as gentle, opting to shoulder you out of his way to get into the apartment. Hongjoong (who is still smiling), gestures again for you to enter, and you finally heed.

Stepping inside, you find that the apartment is quite similar to the one that Hongjoong occupies, even down to the furniture. Although lacking any personal effects, there are the same bookshelves, the same coffee table, and the same couch. The layout of the apartment is relatively similar as well, with the kitchenette off to your right and a door leading to another room on the adjacent wall.

Seonghwa makes himself at home, pulling out a stool from under the small counter and dragging it to the living room. San awkwardly stands in the space between the couch and the coffee table, staring behind you to watch Hongjoong.

Hongjoong closes the door to the apartment behind himself, walking up behind you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Despite planting your feet to the ground below you, he is still able to drag you with him as he walks further inside, releasing his grip once you’re standing at San’s side. “Sit.” He motions to the couch.

San sits first, shuffling to the far left side of the couch. You follow his lead, scooching to the far right side as Hongjoong plants himself on the coffee table. You blink at him, already a bit offended that he would use your coffee table as a seat.

“What the fuck is going on?” You spit, not taking your eyes off of Hongjoong’s face. His smile never falters, unfortunately.

Hongjoong chuckles. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

You tilt your head, squinting your eyes at Hongjoong as sarcastically as you can.

“I don’t want to call this your punishment, per se, but I’m sure you can imagine why you can no longer be trusted to live alone.” He holds his palms up in front of him as if asking ‘what can I do?’

“So you’re making me live with San?” You look over at San, feeling only a little guilty about the tone that you speak his name in. “Why him?” Though you're not pleased by the thought of suddenly having to live with anyone, the thought of it being San in particular comes off as strange.

Hongjoong turns his attention toward the man in question, his smile faulting slightly. “San was the natural choice, seeing as the others don’t particularly like you, and I couldn’t pair you with just anyone.” Hongjoong glances back over to you. “And San is a devoted Follower. I’m hoping he’ll rub off on you.”

San clears his throat from his side of the couch, garnering the attention of yourself and the other two men. “So, what you said in the service, about (Y/n) and I being fated in Universe One… Is that a true prophecy or just an excuse for the others?”

Hongjoong scoffs, though he tries to play it off as a cough. “A little of both. You’re fated because I’m making it so. There isn’t any need for either of you to read into the impacts this will have on the Clones.” He waves his hand in front of him. “(Y/n) has something much bigger fated than a simple living arrangement.”

“Such as?” You lead, hoping that Hongjoong would afford you the single luxury of a little foresight.

Hongjoong simply shakes his head. “Be patient. I can’t tell you just yet.” He looks over to Seonghwa, who is still sitting silently. “Seonghwa is going to be your next door neighbor, from now on.”

You look over at Seonghwa, who simply glares back at you.

“San,” Hongjoong’s tone is firm as he gets the man’s attention. “Let me make one thing very clear to you. You will not touch (Y/n). She is not yours.”

Your gaze flits to San, who is staring at Hongjoong with wide eyes. “I would n-”

Hongjoong doesn’t let him finish his sentence. “And that goes for you as well, (Y/n). The walls are thin. We’ll know if your ‘punishment’ becomes something it isn’t supposed to be.” He’s no longer smiling.

In turn, you smile. “Seriously? You think you can tell me to not have sex?” You ask the question in more of a ‘fuck you’ than anything else, and you hope that San doesn’t read into it. Truly, you don’t want to have sex with San, but who is Hongjoong to tell you that you couldn’t if you did?

Seonghwa scoffs. “Poor little princess has to keep it in her pants. How ever will she survive, Hongjoong? I’m sure she had just the craziest sex life right up until this moment.” His voice drips sarcasm, and the desire to punch him has never been stronger.

Hongjoong ignores Seonghwa. “I’m not saying you can’t have sex, (Y/n). I’m saying you can’t have sex with San.” Hongjoong clears his throat, clearly feeling uncomfortable despite the very bold implications he’s making. Ew. “Think of it as part of your punishment— Which, by the way, has more to it.”

He stands up from the coffee table, walking over to the bookshelves against the wall. You follow him with your eyes, watching as he reaches to the shelf in front of him and grabs the only book available. You don’t have to be a genius to guess what the book is.

Hongjoong holds it in front of him, as if admiring the tome. “I know you haven’t read The Answer. That is going to change.” He walks back to the coffee table, sitting down on its wooden surface once more. He not so gently drops the book onto your lap, stinging your thighs through the material of your pants. “You will have daily reading sessions with either myself or Seonghwa until you finish the book, starting tomorrow.”

You look from the book in your lap to the man sitting in front of you. There is no way in hell you’re reading that damn book. Hongjoong must sense the defiance in you already. “Might I remind you, (Y/n), how lucky you are to be alive? That you begged for your life at my feet?” Hongjoong stands, towering over you from your spot on the couch. “That you promised you would make it up to me if I let you live?” He leans forward, resting his hands on your shoulders, pushing you back into the pillows. “You will prove your worth to me, or I will kill you. It would be wise to not forget.” He whispers.

With Hongjoong entirely too close to your face and his grip unpleasantly tight on your shoulders, you can’t do anything but nod. Though you don’t want to remember last night, and you obviously said those things only to escape with your life, you have to agree. As much as you hate to admit it, Hongjoong is right. He can kill you whenever he wants. There’s no one coming to save you; you are entirely at his mercy.

Any sense of rebellion that you had had, even for a fleeting second, is gone. Hongjoong must see the light leave your eyes, as he finally breaks into a smile while still holding you tight.

“That’s my good girl.” It doesn’t sound much like a compliment. He quickly dips closer to you, pressing his lips to your forehead before you have the opportunity to jerk away.

The kiss is chaste, and he lets go of you to stand straight once again very soon after you even comprehend what he’s done. “Well, we’ll leave the two of you alone, then. San, you’ll continue working as usual, though you’ll do it from here to keep an eye on her. (Y/n), I’ve told Wooyoung to halt your schedule to accommodate our lessons, so no need to go to the kitchens for the next few days.”

Seonghwa rises from his spot as Hongjoong starts to make his way toward the door, following his leader.

“One more thing, San. You are not to let her out of your sight. Feel free to live your lives as normal, but it must be together. Do not leave her alone with anyone unless it is myself or Seonghwa, okay?” Hongjoong pauses in the entryway, looking expectantly at San.

San nods, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong must be satisfied, as he finally opens the door and exits the apartment. Seonghwa offers no goodbye, simply following Hongjoong out into the hallway and shutting the door behind himself.

The apartment is plunged into an awkward silence. What are you supposed to say to San? After he just agreed to be Hongjoong’s personal watchdog? Now that you’re being forced to live together?

“(Y/n)?” San says your name like a question. You look over at him before he starts speaking once more. “I want you to know that I genuinely had no idea that he was planning this. I’m sorry.”

You nod, offering a small smile to San even though you’re not quite sure if you believe him. Why would Hongjoong not tell him? Unless he had planned this whole idea entirely last minute, it doesn’t make sense that San wouldn’t be in on it.

Unless San had done something to piss Hongjoong off? And this was a sort of punishment for him as well? That could be a possibility, you suppose. But what could San have done that would warrant something like this? Something like a test of loyalty?

Does Hongjoong trust San implicitly, and that’s why he was given this job? Or does he question San’s loyalty; is he wondering just how deep it lies, and this is a test for him as much as it is for you?

“And, also, I won’t come onto you. Even if Hongjoong hadn’t said anything, I would never touch you,” San glances at you quickly before averting his eyes, “without your permission.” He quickly clears his throat, standing up. “You can take the bedroom, there’s probably only one bed. I can sleep out here just fine.”

“Wouldn’t that be letting me out of your sight?” You mean to say it as a joke, but San takes your question more seriously.

He ponders for a second, frowning a bit. “I don’t think he meant it that literally, do you?” He tilts his head to look over at the bedroom, though the door is still closed. “If you think he did, then I suppose we can share the bed. It wouldn’t bother me if it wouldn’t bother you.” He pauses, “But I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I don’t mind either way, really.” He rushes the sentence out, jumbling the words together.

In a way, San’s desire to make you comfortable is almost touching. Since getting to this place, had there been a single person who really tried? Mingi, that first night? Nayeon, when she was taking care of you? When was the last time you had experienced genuine kindness? You couldn’t say for sure.

Though it is very well possible that San could have ulterior motives, the gesture is still touching to you. Despite what you hold against San, you almost feel grateful to him for the simple kindness he’s extending to you now. He doesn’t have to treat you gently or fondly, and yet he does.

And, really, is San responsible for this? For you being stuck here? Just because he took your phone? Can you blame him for doing his job? How could you fault him for being just as loyal to Hongjoong as everyone else here? It’s not as if you knew him before and could expect any more from him.

“Thank you, San,” you find yourself saying. “For being respectful.”

San looks at you sadly. “Its the least I could do.”

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

You spend the rest of your day awkwardly glued to San’s hip. Try as you might to get him to leave you alone for even a few minutes, he stays loyal to his promise to Hongjoong.

The two of you had ventured down to San’s office to grab some of his work supplies, and you were a bit shocked to see that he had a laptop sitting on his desk. That was the first piece of technology that you had seen since he took your phone, and it was startling.

What San’s reasons are for having a laptop, you’re not sure. You’re also not sure if there was even a WiFi router in his office, so whether or not the laptop is connected to the internet is an entirely different mystery. One that is very intriguing.

If there is some connection to the outside world, even a small one, you would have to try and take advantage of it. If that laptop is connected to the internet somehow, it could very well be the key to your escape…

But San had completely ignored the laptop, opting to instead grab a few ledgers and files from a filing cabinet. He had rushed to grab his things, seemingly uncomfortable with you standing there and watching him. Honestly, you were too caught up staring at the laptop to even bother looking for anything else around the room, which might have been a mistake. If San really was uncomfortable with you in his office, there must be a reason (or reasons, plural?), other than the item that had been so plainly left on his desk.

The rest of your day had proceeded as normal, except you didn’t work in the kitchens at all and you had San with you the entire time (so, really, not normal at all). When you weren’t eating, the two of you kept to yourselves within the new apartment. You honestly have no idea what you’re supposed to say to him, or how you’re supposed to interact with him.

The two of you hadn’t exactly gotten close, and the last time you had really spoken to him was on the day of your arrival. You’re not sure of his personality or his behaviors, which puts you a little on edge. What if the two of you start to interact and absolutely cannot get along?

Or what if you become fast friends? What if you find yourself enjoying the company?

While you don’t want to spend… however long Hongjoong plans on making the two of you live together in complete awkwardness, you’re not sure if you would prefer getting close to San. It would probably make everything a whole lot more bearable, but is getting attached to people the right thing to do in this situation? Is there even a right thing to do?

You honestly have no idea. The thought of remaining distant from San is equally as concerning as the thought of getting close with him. Both possibilities have their own pros and cons, and it will be hard to pick one of them. Though you suppose that San will also play a determining factor in your decision. If he refuses to speak to you, you won’t be able to befriend him very easily.

Not that he is refusing to speak to you, of course. The lack of conversation seems much more attributable to the looming tension between the two of you; the stiffness of your interactions due to the simple lack of knowledge about each other.

Had Hongjoong thought this far ahead? Picked the person that would make you just perfectly uncomfortable? Speaking of what Hongjoong had said— didn’t he say that the ‘others’ didn’t like you? What the hell was that? Obviously, Hongjoong wouldn’t have you live with himself or Seonghwa. That leaves Jongho, Yeosang, Wooyoung, and San. You know that Jongho doesn’t like you (for what reason, you still have no idea), but what about Yeosang and Wooyoung? What was the reason for not picking either of them? Did they have an issue with you that you were unaware of?

You try to think of your last interaction with your boss. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. Wooyoung has always been perfectly pleasant with you… so maybe that was part of it? Hongjoong didn’t want someone that actually liked your presence to be the one to watch you, maybe?

But what about Yeosang, the mechanic? The last thing you remember saying to him was your question about the vehicles around the farm. Besides that, you really hadn’t interacted with him very much. Was there something that you did to him?

It could be another Jongho situation, you suppose. Maybe he just doesn’t like new people. That could very well be it. But that leaves you to wonder if there is a deeper reason behind Jongho’s attitude toward you. He treats you like he has a personal vendetta against you, like you have personally offended him on multiple levels. What the hell you had ever done to him, you have absolutely no clue. Jongho was callous to you the first time that you ever met him, already hostile toward you even before you knew what you had gotten yourself into.

This place really doesn’t make any sense. The place itself, the people, their behaviors, none of it.

Though it might be a bit soon to begin planning for your next escape attempt, you know that it must start eventually. You refuse to remain in this place for a second longer than you must. You will not be kept here for the rest of your life, so long as you can help it.

The beginnings of a plan swirl through your mind, but you cannot think of anything concrete.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

You can’t speak for San, but, by the time you return to your new room after dinner, you’re exhausted. It seems almost impossible to think that you had been in the corn fields less than 24 hours ago, that you had slept on Hongjoong’s couch just last night, that you had been served your punishment just this morning.

You hadn’t had the chance to talk to anyone else today, though you were holding that you would be able to talk to Mingi. You are mildly worried that, despite what San said, he might’ve gotten wind of what happened last night. Not to mention that you’re curious to know how he feels about your new living arrangement.

Though you’re not sure what you hope for. You realize that you wouldn’t like it if Mingi is happy for you, so what is it that you want?

Isn’t that just the question? What do you want from Mingi? Why had you come here in the first place? To catch up with Mingi. Could the plan have potentially gone more awry? You had wanted to find Mingi, to reconnect with him, and now you’re here. Probably less than 500 feet from him, and you’ve hardly interacted with him at all.

Not that you could if you wanted to, of course. Hongjoong has made it clear that it will be abundantly difficult for you to have a private conversation with anyone. His design is to isolate you from the one person that you could have any sway over, and it is clever enough that you’re not sure how you can work around it.

Maybe, with time, San will trust you more and become more lenient with the rules that Hongjoong had set. That’s all you can really hope for.

San sits on the couch, a copy of The Answer open in his lap. It must be his personal copy, as it looks quite beat up from your perspective. You sit on one of the kitchen stools, a few feet away from him. You can hear his breathing and the occasional flip of a page, and you find that you are curious as to what he’s reading. Are there stories in the book, like there are stories in the Bible? Is it just a collection of Hongjoong’s thoughts? His rules? His ideas? You honestly don’t know.

You very easily could find out for yourself, a pristine copy of The Answer resting on the coffee table in front of San…

No. You aren’t curious. You don’t care. The last thing you want to do right now is voluntarily read cult propaganda. Besides, it’s not like you won’t find out soon enough, with your ‘lessons’ starting tomorrow.

You’re startled out of your thoughts by the sound of San’s book hitting the coffee table. You turn yourself on the stool as you hear him stand, prepared for him to address you.

“So,” he starts, taking a step toward you, but still keeping a fair distance, “how do you think we should… sleep?"

You rub your eyes with the bases of your palms. You had kind of been ignoring thinking about it on purpose. You obviously don't want to share a bed with San, but you also feel bad making him sleep on the couch. You have no idea how long this arrangement will last, and making someone sleep on a couch for an indefinite amount of time feels cruel. With that being said, you don't want to be the one sleeping on the couch, either.

Assuming the bedroom is similar to Hongjoong's, the bed should be big enough to easily accommodate two people. It wouldn't be that uncomfortable to share the bed (if you ignore the fact that you hardly know each other).

"If you're comfortable with it, we can share the bed. It’s fine with me." You suggest the idea before you think any further on it.

San hesitates. "You're sure?" He points at the couch behind him, "I can definitely make myself comfortable out here."

"Yeah, it's, it's fine, San. I don't want to make you sleep on a couch when there's a perfectly fine bed in the next room."

San gives you a crooked smile. "You wouldn't be 'making' me do anything, you know; I'm offering purely out of my gentlemanly heart." He emphasizes his last words as if he's joking, but you sense that he isn't. He really wouldn't care, no matter what decision you make.

You find yourself chuckling anyhow. “I appreciate your gallantry, San,” you play along, “but, really, I don’t mind.”

“If you insist, my lady.” San giggles with you. “But don’t be surprised if you change your mind after tonight, I’m kind of a blanket hog.”

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. The two of you get ready for bed, each taking turns changing into your pajamas in your new bathroom. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed not having to use a communal bathroom, but it is now obvious that the privacy of a single bathroom had been desperately missing from your life.

You brush your teeth side by side, though you attempt to look absolutely anywhere but San’s reflection in the mirror. In doing so, you take in more details of the bathroom. The large bathtub/shower combination, the cold white tiles of the floor, the plain beige walls, the silver fixtures, the large vanity and mirror panels that take up half of the damn wall. It’s just about as average of a bathroom as you can imagine, if not a little bit fancier in some regards. You certainly didn’t have such large mirrors in your apartment, your real one. For a second, you wonder if the apartment is still as you left it. Had you missed rent yet? Is your landlord spamming your phone, asking where his money is?

Hopefully he’s not such an asshole that he would get rid of your stuff, but you wouldn’t put it past him. Not that you have anything too valuable anyhow, but it would really blow to have all of your stuff gone if you ever get out of here.

When. When you get out of here.

You slide into bed first, claiming the left side as your own. You keep to the edge of the bed, trying to take up as little space as possible. When San joins you, he does the same. The blanket strains in the middle with the weight of both of you pulling it as far as it wants to go in either direction, but you both choose to ignore this fact.

San clicks off the bedside lamp on his side and you follow suit. “Goodnight, (Y/n).” San whispers, flipping over onto his side.

“Goodnight, San.”

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#ateez #ateez ff #ateez angst #ateez series #ateez x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #park seonghwa x reader #jeong yunho x reader #kang yeosang x reader #choi san x reader #song mingi x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #choi jongho x reader #the answer #update

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