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prodagustd · 5 months

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the road not taken 02 | myg

Summary: You could count two times when you thought you got over Yoongi and then realized you were wrong (or maybe three times?)

part two: get up and fall again

< part one

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?)

—warnings/tags: slow burn,angst, fluff, eventual smut, angst, sexual tension? lmao, use of drugs (just weed), flashbacks, ANGST!! Btw english is not my first language !!

—words: 11k

—a/note: I took the longest time to write this but I'm back!! I'm so happy to finally post this !! fun fact: while I was writing this I listened to let the light in by lana del rey on loop!! and ofc, last night by the strokes !! hope you like it, as always, you're welcomed to discuss this part in my asks. 🥰

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Four years ago.

Three weeks before New Year's Eve.

Ever since you could remember you understood one thing that was going to define the first years of your life: you weren’t your brother. It wasn’t difficult to understand, but it was difficult to remember.

There was a four year gap between Simon and you, and an abyss between who he was and who you were that people didn’t seem to understand. Even if you had no interest in it, just the idea of competing with the image of your brother was completely pointless; he was the first son of a first daughter, the first grandson, the perfect portrait of your mother’s face, while you were the last granddaughter, the one who came at the wrong time, the one whose eyes could only resemble the sad ghost of your father.

You spent your preteen years witnessing how your aunts and your grandmother expected you to be the same, as if you were supposed to be as charming or as funny as him, despite the clear evidence that you were a completely different person. Maybe it was the dark clothes, or the black eyeliner you wore everyday, maybe your lack of social skills and the bad attitude in the mornings or just the desperate attempt to be different, while he was the cool sibling, you were seen as the weird one.

Maybe growing up with that label taped to your forehead would have made you resent him, you didn’t remember when or how, but you managed to separate him from all that bullshit. You loved Simon not just because you were attached to the hip since you were born, but because he was one of the few people who never expected anything from you but to be yourself. He always encouraged you to wear whatever clothes you wanted and listen to whatever screaming rock band you liked at the moment even if he didn’t understand any of it. And after all it wasn’t his fault that he was tall and handsome and good at basketball, it wasn’t his fault that you couldn’t and didn’t want to be a female version of him. You decided to embrace the difference. You weren’t your brother, and because of that you had to fight your way to find your own self.

When you found The Alley, or as Yoongi called it, the theater near the park with the weird fountains, you felt it clicked for you. It wasn’t just your theater classes, it was a place filled with people just like you, people who understood you. You didn’t have to explain your jokes there, you didn’t have to think twice before speaking, the image of your brother wasn’t hovering over you when people saw you, it was nice.

For the first time you were part of a community, you spent more time in The Alley than in your home, you knew all the bands who came to practice at the place, you knew the lady who cooked pizza for all the movie nights, you were friends with the guy who sold the tickets and the girl who worked at the bar. You spent all your summers volunteering with your friends, making popcorn, accommodating the seats, writing the plays you were going to perform when October came, it was part of you.

But when you had to leave for college you knew you had to leave everything behind. It’s been a long time since you outright refused to feel something remotely close to nostalgia. You refused to live evoking memories, to think that a fleeting good moment could make up for all the bad ones. It’s been a long time since you outright refused to live in the past, but tonight seemed to be an exception.

When your feet turned the corner of the park and your eyes found the Christmas Lights decorating the old theater on the other side of the street, you were hit by a wave of something you knew you shouldn’t feel, something close to relief. A feeling you always seemed to run away from.

“Should we buy popcorn?” Yoongi’s soft voice made you come out of your trance. You looked at him, waiting for the traffic light to turn red so you could cross the street.

“We need to get in line to secure our seats first.” You explained to him, feeling a rush of nervousness washing down your body. When you had your last day at The Alley you said goodbye to everyone and never made plans to come back, this was unexpected.

“But what if popcorn runs out?” He asked, as if that could be a possible scenario. “The line isn’t even that long.”

He pointed to the short line at the entrance, which was formed by just five people.

“Popcorn is not going to run out.” You rolled your eyes. “And even if the line is not long, we still need to get the best sets, they are not numbered.”

Yoongi stood in his place, understanding your logic, but at the same time wondering how did you know that the seats weren’t numbered in the first place.

He frowned “How did you know?” He asked. You turned to him, looking a bit confused, but then, a green light lit up his face, the traffic light allowing you to cross the street. You grabbed his hand, dragging him with you.

“Hurry up!” You exclaimed, quickly crossing the street to reach the end of the line.

Yoongi ran after you, but didn’t demand the answer of his question when you reached the end of the line. It was like both of you agreed not to disrupt one of those rare good moments when you didn’t have a frown on your face, it was so hard to grasp it that he decided to do whatever you said, he even let you make fun of him when you realized he was wearing a dress white shirt under his coat, just for the sake of keeping a smile on your face.

You touched the collar of his shirt, tugging from it just to annoy him.

“Ouch!” He complained, but didn’t do anything to pull away from you.

“My mom is probably thrilled that I’m hanging out with you.” You mentioned, fixing the collar and smoothing the fabric with your fingers like you weren’t the one who messed it up. “I bet she thinks that if I spend enough time with you, you’ll turn me into a lawyer like you.”

Yoongi scoffed, believing that impossible “I’m not a lawyer yet.” He said, and you knew that, but he wasn’t far from it. “But even if I was, I couldn’t turn you into one.”

“Of course not, we can’t both be lawyers.” You murmured, leaning on the wall behind you. “Besides, I couldn't be a lawyer… I’ve never learned to lie.” You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, waiting for his reaction, but he just rolled his eyes, sighing.

“You’re mean…” He hissed.

But Yoongi seemed to be fine with it, he took all your mean jokes about lawyers like a bullet, accepting his destiny, accepting how different both of you were.

In times like these, it hurt a bit to notice how kind he was, from the tip of his red nose to the palms of his rough hands, kindness was all he had to offer. The contrast of how hard you struggled to be nice to how easy it was for him was palpable, Yoongi smiled to the skinny teenage boy who checked your tickets and the girl who gave away flyers advertising the next movie night the following weekend and never forgot to say thank you, while you had to constantly remind yourself not to curse every person who crossed your way, at least not out loud.

Once you were inside the place you forced yourself to shake those thoughts off your head, determined to drag Yoongi across the principal hall in order to get your seats without looking back.

There were multiple kinds of chairs at the theater, it was one of the things that made it so special. The Alley was never built to be a theater, it was a big old house bought by a group of friends years and years ago. They tore up a few walls and built it to be a place to watch movies, paint, do theater, play music or write poetry. On movie nights they put together different chairs and a projector and it suddenly turned into a cinema.

You were sure Yoongi didn’t know any of this, it was the first time he put foot in this place, but you, who had plenty of experience, knew where the best seats were.

The best seats were located in the middle of the room, it was a couple of recycled red cinema chairs. You remembered that Sid, one of the owners of the place, told you that he got them at an auction and that they were vintage, but to you they just looked old and dusty at the time. Of course over time you realized that they were the best place to be, they were located just in the perfect place and they were the most comfortable, but they were only two sets of four chairs, so if you didn’t hurry up you would have ended up at the back of the room sitting on some bleachers.

Yoongi didn’t understand why you were in a rush to get there, but you were right, you got the best seats.

“Now, stay here.” You told him “I’m coming back with popcorn.”

You thought it was only right that if he bought the tickets, you were supposed to buy popcorn and drinks. But then again, you weren’t supposed to think of this as a date at all.

You rushed to the entry of the room, turning on the corner near the bar and saw the stand of popcorn. As you stood in the line, you realized you didn’t notice how cold it was outside until you felt how warm the place was inside. You guessed that the hurry to get to the seats didn’t give room to think about it at all.

Almost four years went by and it was like time didn’t pass at all inside these walls. Things in your hometown never changed, and sometimes you liked it that way, but most of the time it was the main reason why you wanted to run away from it. Your mom always said you were a creature of metamorphosis, always changing, and you accepted the title for a while, but now you were wondering if your need to morph just meant that you could never be truly happy with any of the paths that you chose for yourself.

In no time you bought the popcorn and came back to your seat, a little displeased with the thought, but glad that you didn’t find anyone who could recognize you. You were safe for now, perhaps you could watch the movie and come back home going unnoticed.

But of course things never worked in the way you wanted.

“Sorry, excuse me.” You murmured, managing to carry two cups filled with coke and a bucket of popcorn, you watched your step carefully, trying not to step on other people. You raised your gaze, focusing on reaching the empty seat next to Yoongi, who was looking at his phone.

You took a seat next to him, handing him the drink. He murmured a small ‘thank you’, but didn’t look at you. “What are you doing?” You asked him, burying a finger on the side of his torso, making him jump in surprise.

“I’m trying to prove you wrong, look…” He replied, showing the screen of his phone to you. You narrowed your eyes, trying to focus your gaze on whatever he was showing to you, a website filled with reviews of Home Alone 2. “It has good reviews.”

You snatched the phone off his hands, observing the preview photo and the poster of, what it seemed to be, Yoongi’s favorite movie. You scrolled for a couple seconds, checking if what he said was true. “Three stars' average reviews is not good.” You informed him, but now he looked offended.

“Three stars is good for a Christmas movie, what are you talking about?” He insisted.

“What are you talking about? The first one has five stars’ average reviews, if you settle for bad Christmas movies, that’s on you.” You teased him, giving him his phone back.

He shook his head, scoffing “I can’t believe you think Home Alone 2 is a bad Christmas movie, it has that scene with the pigeon lady!” He kept insisting.

“Which scene?” You asked, but by doing that, you gave yourself away.

“What do you mean which scene?” He asked, confused. You opened your mouth, wanting to defend yourself, but then he gasped. “God, Pinky. You have never watched Home Alone 2, haven’t you?

Your mouth hung open, starting to laugh “I-... I just-”

“No, I can’t believe it.” He laughed, shaking his head in disapproval “You never watched it.”

“I’ve watched the beginning, okay?” You tried to explain. “And I think it was enough for me to decide if it was a good movie or not.”

“Bullshit.” Yoongi said, now a bit offended that you talked shit about a movie that you didn’t even finish.“You can’t decide that if you didn’t even watch the scene with the pigeon lady.”

You laughed even harder, covering your mouth with the palm of your hand. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

He opened his eyes widely. “Of course you don’t, you didn’t watch the movie!” He exclaimed “You just have to stop pretending to be a film critic to enjoy some movies, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes. “C’mon, the fact that I’m here means that I’m willing to try.”

The fact that you were here meant you were irremediably in love with him, a voice in your head reminded you of that, and maybe it was the same thing.

“For me?” He teased you, making you close your eyes for a split second. That didn’t help at all.

You sank into your seat, “For you, I guess.”

And that could've been the beginning of the end of the night. You and Yoongi watching the movie and coming back home before it was too late and laying in bed remembering every word he said, like they meant something else, before falling asleep.

But nothing could ever be that simple.

“You!” A high pitched voice interrupted the silence. You raised your gaze, startled. Your eyes found a redhead girl turned around in the seat in front of you, pointing her finger at you with a big smile decorating her bright red lips. “I knew I recognized that voice from somewhere!”

You felt your stomach drop.

Minnie.

“Oh, God, Minnie.” You breathed out. “You scared me!”

Perhaps on the way here you prayed so hard not to see somebody you knew tonight that whoever that was up there in the sky heard you, but instead of helping you, decided to laugh at you in your face, because sitting directly in front of you was Minnie, one of your closest partners during your theater days.

And the only person who you ever told about Yoongi.

“Do I look that old?” She giggled, cupping her face in her palms “It’s only been a few years, but I feel like I haven’t seen you in decades!”

“Yes…I mean, no!” You pressed your lips together, crossing looks with Yoongi, who looked at you with curious eyes. “I just didn't expect to see you here.”

“Me?” Minnie scrunched her nose, laughing “I didn’t expect to see you, what are you doing here?”

“Me?” You nervously laughed. “I was in town and I- we came to see the movie…” You managed to explain, trying to act as normal as possible, but you were sure that your shaking eyes, jumping from Yoongi’s face to Minnie’s, were giving you away. “This is Yoongi, by the way. And this is Minnie, a friend.” You introduced both of them.

If any of them realized how nervous you were, they didn’t say a thing.

Minnie, as expressive as she was, opened her eyes wide open, surprised.

“Oh, Yoongi, Yoongi?” She asked, emphasizing every vowel of his name.

“Is there another Yoongi?” Yoongi laughed, turning his head to see you.

You wanted to vomit.

“Mmm, not that I know of!” She smiled, offering her hand for him to shake. “Nice to finally meet you, Yoongi-Yoongi.” Yoongi took her hand, shaking it three times right in front of your petrified face. “I heard a lot of things about you back in the day.”

Minnie winked at you in a very exaggerated manner, instantly making you freeze in your place. Now you were a hundred percent sure that you were about to vomit, but maybe that would be an amazing scenario for you, you would have to run away to the closest bathroom and wouldn’t have to be in the presence of this interaction.

“Oh, really?” Yoongi smiled, displaying his gummy smile. “What things?”

“You know, all kinds of things.” She raised her eyebrows, clearly amused with the look on your face, that begged her to please shut up.

“Me and Minnie- we used to come here a lot when we were in high school.” You intervened in the conversation, trying to change the subject as soon as you could without thinking much.

“That’s right, we were pretty close!” She reminisced “We were always paired up together.”

“Paired up in what?” Yoongi asked, naturally.

“Theater.” She explained without giving you much time to think about saying something else. “Didn’t you know that your girl had her beginnings here, at The Alley?”

You gulped, and Yoongi, for the first time during the night, seemed to read you just right. He tilted his head, surprised “Well, no. She didn’t say anything.”

“Really?” She frowned, not understanding why, but Yoongi immediately got it.

“It was a long time ago…” You trailed off, trying hard not to make it seem like a big deal, like it was just a hobby you had when you were a teenager, but Yoongi knew you. He could see it in your eyes, the same look you had when Simon caught you using his legos, when you had to tell your mom you got suspended for getting in a fight in high school, the same look you had when you were caught. It was clear to him that you didn’t want him to see that part of you, whatever it was.

“I mean, she’s always been pretty mysterious, hasn’t she?” Minnie said “It takes a while to figure her out, you’ll get there.”

“I think I’m close enough, aren’t I?” His answer was smooth, almost annoying you. He playfully squeezed your knee and you wished he hadn't done it, because your old friend was now looking at you with stars in her eyes full of excitement. It had been almost four years since you had a proper talk with Minnie, but despite the fact that little to nothing happened between you and the man next to you, you were sure she was convinced you were on a date right now.

And perhaps it was not just his hand on your knee, maybe it was the fond look on his eyes too, seeking complicity in his jokes, but you were not going to go down that route tonight. You scoffed. “Not one bit.” You said, out of bitterness, because Yoongi knew you as well as your brother, perhaps his only flaws were being dumb and blind, but that came with being a man anyway.

For your own good, the lights of the room flickered twice, meaning that the movie was about to start soon. “That means I should leave you alone, right?” Minnie sighed, “But it’s really nice to see you here after so long, sweetheart.”

You nodded, offering her a soft smile, but you couldn’t help but feel guilty. It was in Minnie’s nature to always offer love and kindness to everyone, but it was hard to hold her gaze when she called you by that name, knowing that you didn’t deserve it.

“It’s nice to see you, too.” Was all you could say, despite it being a lie.

In another universe you would’ve loved to see your old friend and feel something bigger than nostalgia, but you couldn’t, you felt obligated to reject the feeling. You couldn’t live in the fantasy of what could have been.

She was about to turn around, but before she could do it, she raised one of her fingers, like she just remembered something. “By the way… Are you still doing theater?” She inquired.

You shrugged, shaking your head “Ummm… Not really…”

She pouted, disappointed. “That’s a shame, because… I don’t know, it’s crazy that I’m seeing you tonight. I know of someone who’s looking for someone just like you, if you were interested.” Her words lingered in the air, but the lights flickered again. “But I’m guessing I should keep that for after the movie… And Yoongi!” She exclaimed, pointing at him “I’m glad that you finally stopped dating dumb girls, my friend right there was very popular around here. You’re very lucky.”

You almost gasped, immediately turning your head to Yoongi, who just scoffed amused. Before you could even breathe, your friend turned around exactly when the lights went off, starting the movie right away.

You held your breath for what felt to be an eternity, but in the darkness you saw a smirk tugging from Yoongi’s lips, being followed by an outburst of laughter. The sound of his quiet laugh made you freeze in your place, was he laughing at you?

You opened your mouth, trying to find an explanation for your friend’s comment, but he shook his head as if he was stopping you, clearly entertained by the shocking look on your face. “Oh, save it for later.” He whispered, brushing it off.

You pressed your lips together, sinking in your seat as you observed him focusing on the movie, and you were supposed to do the same, but you couldn’t think of anything else. The only thing you could hope for was that he couldn’t see how red your face was, because you sure as hell could feel it.

God, you wanted to die, but whoever put you through this whole thing knew that death could only be seen as kindness.

How come that after years of quitting theater you were still being this dramatic? You didn’t know, but tonight death felt like a greater destiny than the embarrassment you felt.

In situations like these, you remembered two specific times during the past seven years when you thought you got over Yoongi, but then you realized you failed miserably.

You evoked the memory of those two situations for a special reason, to teach you a lesson: you must not continue to engage with the man sitting next to you. There were three reasons for you to learn from this lesson, because otherwise:

It would hurt your mind.

It would hurt your heart.

It would hurt your soul.

These seemed three perfectly logical reasons to learn the lesson, but you were never the best student.

The first memory that always came to mind was the first time Yoongi and Simon came back home for Christmas after going to college. It had been six months since you decided to convince yourself that the last two years you spent being in love with him were just a fever, but when Yoongi walked in the room and you saw that he got a new haircut and pierced his ears, you thought that the plan “get over my brother’s best friend” would not work at all, at least not now. Maybe you could try the following year.

(Spoiler: the following year did not work either.)

The second time was last summer, a few months ago, when both of them came back for summer break and Yoongi invited you to some pool party. You were supposed to go with Simon, but at the last minute he ended up getting sick and told you two to go alone. There was a time when you believed that Simon worked as some kind of barrier between you and Yoongi, hanging out with them meant that now you were a group of three, it reminded you that the only reason you kept seeing Yoongi was because he was Simon’s best friend, nothing else. And when you and Yoongi were alone, well… It was different.

That night none of you were planning to get into the pool, it was a strange house full of strange people and it almost felt like you were crashing the party. You were wearing a black summer dress and Yoongi was wearing jeans, you only went for free alcohol and to check if someone had any weed, you thought you were safe. Of course every little effort you made trying not to think that way about him anymore was ruined when decided to take off his shirt, grab you by your hips and jump in the pool, dragging you with him.

Needless to say, you were furious. The only thought that crossed your mind was that neither of you had a change of clothes, but he didn’t care. When you got your head out of the water, you saw him laughing.

You gasped “Fuck you!” You punched his arm, not caring that everyone around you was observing you, laughing because he did something cute.

He kept laughing “I’m sorry, you looked hot!” He defended himself, grabbing your arms to pull you closer under the water.

“What!?” You shouted, fighting against his hold but wondering if you heard that right.

“You looked like you needed a dip!” He clarified, shouting back. His lips stretched widely, showing you a white smile. You wished you could punch that cheeky expression off his face, but you were too busy trying not to sink into the water as he firmly gripped your waist, crashing your body against his bare chest.

“You idiot, I can’t swim!” You whined, gripping his shoulders so you wouldn’t drown.

He snickered, hugging you closer. “It’s fine, Pinky, I wouldn’t let you die in front of all these people.”

The moment you realized you had not gotten over Yoongi was not then, it was not when he took off his shirt either, and it was not when you saw him running his fingers through his wet hair, nor when you saw the drops of water dripping down his wide back, no. Not even when he wrapped his strong arms around your body or when he gripped your hips and lifted you up to seat you on the edge of the pool. You realized that you were still in love with Yoongi when he sat next to you, and when he realized that you were not playing, that you were really angry, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed your forehead, whispering “I’m sorry.”

The heart clenching memory of the look on his face, the sound of his voice and the touch of his lips against your skin were enough to screw you up, but not enough to make you learn the lesson.

Now, sitting next to him, you began to think that you were finally losing your mind when you tried to focus on the movie for the first ten minutes, and then for the next thirty minutes, and the next fifty, but when an hour passed you found out, or you just remembered, that it was useless to focus on something else when Yoongi was by your side.

You often forgot how impossible it was for you to ignore Yoongi’s presence, even in the most packed and loudest rooms, but the confirmation that you finally drove yourself insane was when you noticed that you just couldn’t ignore his arm laying next to yours in the shared armrest, or your hands touching when you reached to grab popcorn, and you certainly couldn’t ignore his fingers when they reached to play with the fabric of the hem of your sleeve.

You carefully looked down to the arm rest, observing his fingers tugging the tiny piece of ruffle fabric at the end of your sleeve. He wasn’t trying to get your attention or to annoy you, it was something almost unconscious, a small gesture, very easy to miss, but it was enough for you to stop breathing for a moment. Now, it was impossible to ignore the warmth of his fingers slightly grazing over your wrist.

You sighed deeply, feeling the failure sinking in your bones once again. The line between what you were supposed to feel and what you were actually feeling was always blurry, but this time seemed to be completely erased, and once again, you were the one to blame for thinking that this time seeing Yoongi could be any different.

You were screwed up again.

You could say you enjoyed the last part of the movie, at least the parts where you were zoning out enough to quiet your mind, but when the lights were turned on you remembered that your brain hated you.

Your eyes swept the place, observing the people around you clapping as the credits rolled down.

“So?” His voice sneaked into the hustle and bustle of your head, making you turn to look at him, but your eyes focused on the almost empty bucket of popcorn on his lap. “Do you like it? I’ve never seen Home Alone on a big screen.”

You grabbed a handful of popcorn from the very bottom of the bucket. “I’ve seen it plenty of times on a big screen.” You said, stuffing your mouth with the food so you wouldn’t answer any of the questions you knew he was about to make, but the second those words left your mouth you realized you gave yourself away.

“Yeah, I imagine.” He scoffed, signaling with his head towards the empty seat where Minnie was sitting a few seconds ago. You were grateful that she disappeared the moment the movie ended so she wouldn’t hear this conversation. “I heard some of it just now.” You huffed, pretending to be tired of him and chewing long enough to prevent yourself from talking. “Is there anything else I should know? Apart from the fact that you have a secret twin who takes theater classes and has friends who are actually nice?”

The only thing that could come out of your mouth was something rude. “Oh, shut up.” You spat, looking at anything else except his face.

Yoongi shifted on his seat with a shameless smirk decorating his face, getting closer to you. “Don’t! Don’t shut me up.” He laughed, casually grabbing your face between his fingers so you wouldn’t run away from his gaze. “I want to know all about that, like, were you really talking shit about me during high school?”

You frowned, remembering what Minnie said about Yoongi dating dumb girls. Of all the conclusions he could have drawn from that, was that the one he came up with?”

“I wasn’t… talking shit about you.” You wanted to explain “Have you considered that I was just really into gossiping?”

He snorted, “It’s the same thing.”

“It’s not.” You denied.

“So you were gossiping about me?” He asked “About the girls I dated?”

“C’mon, what about it?” You tried to dismiss as quickly as possible “I was like fourteen, and in my defense, you never had good taste in girls.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes, a bit offended “Why? You really think the girls I dated were dumb?” You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress a laugh. “That’s not very feminist of you.”

You rolled your eyes “Oh shut up, what do you know about feminism?” You said. “Those were just… facts.”

“Yeah, I’m sure of that.” He scoffed “What I’m not so sure about is that thing your friend said… That I’m really lucky to be with you.”

“Ignore her.” You tried to cut him, looking away so he wouldn’t notice how embarrassed you were.

“No, why?” He smiled, poking fun at you. “She said you were really popular, but I don’t get it. I don’t know a man who could stand your behavior for more than two hours. Besides me, of course.”

You could be offended by that, but it was the truth.

“Well, they couldn't,” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “They just wanted me for my talent.”

“Let me doubt that.” He said “If you were so good, why did you never tell me?”

“Well, it was a secret” You confessed, there was no point in hiding now. “I didn’t want anyone to know, people would think it was dumb.”

“And when did you care about what other people think?”

You sighed. All the time, you wanted to say, but you kept that for yourself.

“I just... wanted it for myself, no one had to know.” You explained.

Yoongi waited a few seconds for you to say something else, but you weren’t willing to pour your heart to him just yet. Yes, when you found The Alley you discovered a part of yourself that was completely unique, but that didn’t mean you wanted to share it. It was for you only, and you were happy with that.

“Well, Pinky.” He sighed, squeezing your knee like he always did. “Even if it was a secret… I’m telling you, you were pretty obvious.”

“What do you mean?” You frowned, confused

“I mean, you always liked High School Musical a little bit too much.” He explained as a mocking smirk tugged from the corners of his lips. “At first I thought it was just Zac Efron, but now it makes sense.”

You nudged his shoulder before the frown in your face disappeared into laughter. “High School Musical is the best movie ever, to be obsessed with it was just logical.” You tried to excuse yourself “That and, of course, Zac Efron.”

“I never thought you would have a thing for basketball players.” He muttered, trying to play nonchalant as his eyes wandered towards the corner of the room, circling back to your gaze. You realized he was expecting an answer for that.

“Kind of.” You waved off, pretending to be laid back about it. “But only the ones who have this internal struggle about their father’s plans for their future and their unusual passion for musical comedy.”

He let out an amused snort. “Very specific, what a shame.”

You stared at him for a second, wondering what game he was trying to play now.

You tried so hard to keep your face straight, to try to show him that you weren’t phased by any of his stupid jokes. You wanted to remind him that you weren’t like any of those girls who were charmed just by the sight of his eyes, you weren’t like those girls he stopped in the hallways just to make them giggle when you were in high school, you wanted to make clear that you were different — except that, of course, you weren’t. The moment he displayed that specific smirk, you committed the unforgivable crime of blushing.

But he was quick to dismiss it, he always was.

And you were obligated to forget about it.

“So? Why did you leave it?” He inquired, “Were you that bad?” He ignored that the room was now almost empty. Maybe in another situation you would’ve taken advantage of that and told him it was time to go to avoid telling the truth, but why hide now? Maybe telling the truth wasn’t so bad.

You smirked, rolling your eyes. “I was the best one in my group, you don’t even know.”

“Yeah?” He moved closer to you with big eyes, showing you how curious he was.

“Of course, do you have any doubts?”

“Well, yes, a few.” He teased “I’d have to see it for myself.”

“Sure, when they clear the stage I’ll do a demonstration just for you.” You joked, successfully making him laugh.

“That would be an amazing way to avoid my question.” He pointed.

You felt your chest getting lighter, and if that hinted you that it meant something dangerous, you ignored it.

“I wasn’t doing that.” You tried to defend yourself.

“You do that all the time.” He reminded you, and he was right. You bit back a smile, darting him a look for exposing you.

“Fine, then. I’ll be honest.” You surrendered, maybe Yoongi could convince you to jump off a cliff if he looked at you with those eyes. “I left it when I was finishing high school, I was about to leave for college and… I had to grow up, you know? I grew too attached to this place but I knew I couldn’t cling onto these things forever.”

“Can’t you?” He questioned “Didn’t you like to do it?”

“I mean, yes, but-”

“Then, why drop it?” He interrupted.

You breathed in, wishing that you could find the words to say it in a way that made sense, because you weren’t sure what was right or wrong anymore.

“Maybe I was on an ego trip back then, I don’t know.” You admitted. “I thought I was genuinely good but I couldn’t do anything about it, like I was stuck here. I had to let it go, for me it’s all or nothing.”

Perhaps you weren’t talking only about theater now. Perhaps you were talking about everything, perhaps you were talking about him. And it was a bit harsh, but it was the truth, or what you decided to be the truth. Yoongi took one hard look at you, as if he was expecting you to realize how dumb that sounded, but you already knew that, otherwise you wouldn’t be there right now, at home before Christmas because you dropped out of college. You didn’t even know if when you left for college that excuse made sense, you just knew that you were bitter and angry and if you couldn't follow your dreams, you didn’t want them at all. And if you couldn’t be with Yoongi, you couldn’t see him at all.

You ripped the bandaid off, but three years later it exploded in your face.

“All or nothing?” He repeated, but you just nodded. “But did you try first? Because as far as I know you didn’t.”

You bitterly laughed,“Yeah, right” You got up from your seat, ready to leave “And who would’ve taken me seriously?”

He got up with you, blocking the way to stop you from getting out from the sea of chairs just yet. You raised your chin, finding his eyes. “I would have.” He casually mumbled, but his words echoed in your head, clenching your heart.

You tried to search in your brain for something snarky to say, but you froze under his gaze. “And If I wouldn’t have…” He continued “If I were a complete prick who doesn’t care about you, you should’ve done it anyway. Even if your mom puts on a bad face.”

You wanted to stop him, to shut him up. But he was right, even if you didn’t need to hear that tonight. You loved your mom and you knew she didn’t expect anything from you but to be happy, she was just worried, you knew that, but you hated that she had to see you trip with your own decisions.

“Have you ever tried to be wrong?” You asked him, pushing his chest with your palms. “Like, just once?” Walking past him, hearing his laugh behind you followed by his quick steps running after you.

“Don’t be mad ‘cause I’m right.” He teased.

“I’m not mad.” You said, walking towards the entrance, hearing music coming from the other room. “Just annoyed that you had to go to college and left me here making dumb decisions.”

He smiled, happy that you decided to show a glimpse of love for him. “Do I need to remind you that you’re just twenty one and your life is not over?”

“Yes, maybe.” You said “Several times a day, please.”

You stood in the hall, attempting to put your coat back on, but he stopped you, stealing the piece of clothing away from you. “What are you doing?” He asked, smiling. “Don’t you know that we have to dance now?”

You widely opened your eyes, almost completely forgetting that. When you bought the tickets for movie nights, you were also invited to the afterparty that was held right after the movie ended, hence the loud music playing in the next room, the biggest one of the place. You didn’t think Yoongi would be interested in staying.

“Do you want to dance?” You checked first. You didn’t know if you were interested in staying either.

“C’mon, I have plenty of experience from frat parties.” He bragged, taking a few steps back towards the room where the music came from.

You shook your head. “This isn’t like those parties you went to with Simon where they play Shape Of You every three songs”

“Why would it be different?” He said, slightly offended. Yoongi kinda liked Shape Of You…

You grabbed his hand, dragging him into the next room as you asked him something very important, “Yoongi, do you know who The Strokes are?”

After entering the room, Yoongi disappeared for a few moments to leave your coats in the cloakroom of the place, leaving you alone to collect your thoughts once again. When you first entered the place to watch the movie you couldn’t wait to leave, and now you were in a dark room under the red lights, feeling excited at the idea of dancing like you were a teenager again. It was time for you to understand that your life was already a mess, nothing was going to change if you stayed at The Alley dancing just for tonight.

When Yoongi came back you were quick to drag him towards the center of the dancefloor, right when the first chords of Last Nite by the Strokes began to resonate in the room, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of happiness running down your body. Yoongi looked at you funny, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. He didn’t expect that you, of all people, would be excited to dance.

It turned out that Yoongi didn’t live under a rock, he did know who The Strokes were, but barely. You knew that he always preferred hip hop and rap, but the lack of interest he had for other genres surprised you. “I don’t know the song!” He shouted over the music

“What about it?” You said, grabbing his hands to pull him closer. “You must dance anyway, or they’ll kick you out!”

The look of terror in Yoongi’s eyes made you laugh, but you didn’t pity him, he was the one who wanted to dance in the first place, even when both of you knew that he wasn’t the kind of person who dance at parties, he wasn’t the kind of person who danced at all.

“How!?” He asked, ignoring the mass of people jumping around him.

“Just do what I do!” You exclaimed, shaking your head side to side to the rhythm, making the strands of your hair hit your face, and his face too. Yoongi laughed, knowing then that if he didn’t dance he would look like an absolute loser. He was still hesitant to follow you, but when you began to jump, he slowly began to jump too, trying hard to shake his head the same way you were doing as he felt his ribcage shake from his laughter.

You nodded your head, happily tapping your feet against the ground to the loud rhythm of the drums “Oh, baby I feel so down, oh, it turn’ me off” You sang to him, but he shook his head, disappointed that he didn’t know the lyrics and couldn’t sing the words back to you, but you didn’t care, you were happy enough watching him trying to copy your moves.

You grabbed his hands, perhaps taking advantage of the situation to tangle his fingers with you, opening your arms with your hands still connected to his, shortening the distance. “I’m not a good dancer either.” You said, maybe way too close to his face.

Yoongi scrunched his nose, giving you a half twirl to make your back crush against his chest, trapping you between his arms. “Are you saying I’m not a good dancer?” You felt his lips brushing against your cheek, making you shiver.

You closed your eyes shut, trying to breathe in. “Not all!” You yelled, spinning out of his arms. “But no one’s watching.”

He took the liberty to slide his hands down your torso, gripping your waist and pulling you close to his body. “You are watching.” He said, like he was reminding you.

“Then, impress me.”

You were thankful that the sound of the music drowned the sound of your heart, who was threatening to run away from your chest in the exact moment he smiled at you, accepting the challenge.

You couldn’t count the amount of times Yoongi made you spin in the room, like you were dancing a waltz, before you realized that neither of you were wearing clothes made for dancing, you were wearing a black long sleeve shirt and Yoongi was wearing that ridiculous white dress shirt that made him look like he came out of one of your dreams when he rolled up his sleeves. As one song ended and another one started, he began to stop caring if he didn’t know the lyrics, it was fine as long as he followed you, but when your hands began to felt sweaty and you felt like you needed air, you decided it was time to leave, but not before you finished dancing Song 2 by Blur, because what other chance would you have to dance Song 2 by Blur with Yoongi? And what other chance would you have to watch him copy every move you made like you were an expert at dancing? And what other chance would you have to be alone with him without feeling like your heart was sinking? It was like the loud music didn’t allow you to feel anything else but joy, or maybe you were already high from all the people smoking weed around you, either way, you were happy.

You didn’t want to began feeling overwhelmed, the most exciting thing that happened today, before Yoongi, was finding out that your mom’s boyfriend gave her a teddy bear that sang All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey when you pressed its paw, you could blame —or just thank him— for taking you out of your house. Your heart didn’t feel as heavy as it did at the beginning of the night, but you knew it was time to leave.

As he waited at the door, you decided to look for your coats. There was a line of people waiting to leave theirs, when you were just trying to leave the place. You expected to get in line, wait a maximum of five minutes and then leave, but right at the end of the line you found, of course, Minnie, because it couldn’t be any other way.

She was alone, holding two purses and a big puffer jacket that was probably not hers. As soon as you stood behind her, she turned around, clearly she wasn’t expecting to see you again. “Oh, hi again!” She greeted you with the same big white smile you saw earlier tonight. “I had to leave when the movie ended, but I wanted to talk to you, where’s your boyfriend?”

You sighed, not wanting to remember what she said to Yoongi. “He’s not my boyfriend, Minnie.” You said. “He’s just… Yoongi.”

“Just Yoongi, huh?” She raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. “What are you doing on a date with Just Yoongi?”

“It’s not a date, he just invited me to watch the movie.” You tried to explain, but she wasn’t convinced.

“Sounds like a date to me.” She giggled, completely ignoring what you said. “I remember when you were like fifteen and cried because he kissed some ugly girl at the New Year’s party, and now you’re on a date!”

You shook your head, you didn't dare to acknowledge what she said. The memory of that night made you cringe, you remembered running to Minnie and telling everything about it while sobbing like somebody just died. She hugged you and told you that she was sure the girl was super ugly, which wasn’t the truth at all, but it was the version she decided to keep.

“But it’s not a date.” You reminded her.

“If you say so…” She winked at you, taking a step forward to advance in the line. “But anyway! Weren’t you still in college?”

Perhapsit was the rush of the dopamine in your body, or the fact that she spoke to you as if not a day had passed since the last time she saw you, but you told her the truth.

“Well, I’m supposed to be in college.” You said, “But I dropped out recently.”

“Oh, thank God.” She suddenly let out, almost by accident. You looked at her, amused that she dared to say that. “I mean, don’t get me wrong!” She rushed to say “It’s just, you know, it was about time for you to realize.”

You smiled, feeling your chest getting warm. When you told people you dropped out of college, most of the time they looked worried, like you made a mistake, but Minnie looked relieved, and that made you feel like it wasn’t such a horrible decision.

“I know, don’t remind me.” You huffed, looking at your feet.

“I can't help but do it.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest, thinking “I always thought I was going to see you on a big screen someday, I was disappointed when you left for college.”

How cheesy, you wanted to say, but you couldn’t, not when she was the one who believed in you in ways you never did.

“Well, I’m out of there now.” You just said.

“So, if you’re not in college and you’re not doing theater, what are you doing?”

You scoffed, feeling like you just got scolded “Rotting in bed until Christmas, I guess.”

“Okay, I can respect that, but what about after the holidays?” She continued to ask.

You shrugged, “I have to figure that out yet.”

“So… About what I was telling you before the movie started…”

“Yeah, I mean, about that…” You wanted to interrupt her, but she was quick to cut your sentence.

“Yeah, I know what you’re gonna say, you’re out the theater stuff too, I know.” She said, waving her hands in front of your face so you wouldn’t keep talking. “But I’ve got this friend in the city who’s a director, he is working on this project and is looking for a main character, I don’t know, for some reason it reminded me of you. And now you’re here, so it has to mean something, right?”

You furrowed your eyebrows “Why would it remind you of me?” You inquired. “We haven’t seen each other in years.”

“Crazy, isn’t it?” She laughed, “He pitched to me, it’s some gothic dramatic love story, he wanted to know if I knew of someone.”

Was this some kind of joke? You, realizing that you were never happy in college, coming back home, coming back to the theater where you used to dream to step on a stage someday, or Yoongi telling you all that stuff about not even trying to make your dreams come true, and now this? Something inside you moved, you didn’t know what, but you did know why you were home after all. You told Yoongi about this in your garage the other day, you dropped out of college for a reason, you weren’t built to have a nine to five job, but you also weren’t sure what is what you wanted.

You looked at Minnie like you were sorry to turn down her proposal “Minnie, I haven’t been on a play in years.” You told her, already anticipating the rejection of her offer.

“I know that, but I’ve always trusted your talent, otherwise I wouldn’t be talking about this.” She replied “Look, I’m not asking you to say yes right now, but if you want to know more you can give me your new number.” You kept quiet for a few seconds. Not knowing what to say, you began to nervously laugh, that sounded crazy to you. “C’mon, don’t laugh! If it's of any use, it's a very well paid job.”

Now you began to laugh for real. “What do you mean it's a very well paid job?” You asked, not believing her for one second. Most plays you used to be part of during your high school days never left a dime.

“It is!” She insisted “You don’t know my friend, he has rich parents, he doesn't do things for the love of art. I mean, he likes theater, but he also likes money.”

Well, that could’ve made you change your mind right away a four years ago, but still, a few hours ago you came to this place counting the seconds to leave, now you were debating if you should accept a job offer. You shook your head, realizing that the line moved far enough, it was Minnie’s turn to leave her coat.

She took a few seconds and then it was your turn. You quickly asked for Yoongi’s jacket and your coat and when you turned around, Minnie was still there, not willing to give up.

“What do I have to do to convince you to at least give me your new number?” She pleaded, looking for something in her mini bag. You observed her pulling a lighter and a joint and putting it between her lips to light it up.

“What are you willing to do?” You joked, or not.

“What do you have in mind?” Well, she knew you.

“I have an idea…” You insinuated, pointing at the joint.

She let out a cloud of smoke out of her mouth, suddenly frowning. “Really?” She said, trying not to sound annoyed, you nodded your head several times, almost excited. “You can’t be asking for the whole joint.”

“But I am.”

Minnie shook her head in denial. “I can let you smoke it once, I’m not giving it to you.” She offered instead, but you wanted to make it worth it. If you were going to even consider accepting the job, if you were going to even think about something like theater again, you wanted at least something in return.

“I’m giving you half my number, then.” You said “Try to guess the other half.”

She narrowed her eyes, hesitating. Your old friend knew that you weren’t joking at all, and for some reason she really wanted you to consider her offer. You knew you won when she rolled her eyes, giving in. “You never stopped being a little bitch, have you?” She hissed, reluctantly handed you the joint. You happily accepted, taking a long drag before it went out. Minnie sighed, sadly watching her perfectly rolled joint in the hands of someone else. “So? Your new number?”

A devilish smirk appeared in your face as you began to walk backwards, taking long steps towards the entrance as you enjoyed the confused expression on Minnie’s face. “I never changed my number.” You confessed.

Minnie’s mouth hung open in disbelief, but she made sure that the last thing you saw from her that night was her middle finger up, directed towards you.

It’s been a long time since you outright refused to feel something remotely close to nostalgia, to live evoking memories, to think that a fleeting good moment could make up for all the bad ones, but it was impossible not to. Instead, you were condemned to live wondering what it would be like to come back home someday and not feel this way, to come to The Alley and not feel like you left a part of you there, to look at Yoongi and not feel like you were going to miss him all your life.

And tonight wasn’t an exception, because when you came back to Yoongi and he offered what seemed to be the warmest smile in the coldest of winters, you knew it might haunt you forever.

But maybe, just for tonight, you didn’t care.

“Why are you making that face?” Yoongi asked, raising a brow as he grabbed his jacket from your hands.

“What face?” You asked back, innocently keeping your hands behind your back.

He opened his mouth to explain what he meant, but then shut it again, staying silent for a minute as he inspected your face. “Did you just… smoke weed?” He laughed, probably already smelling it.

A smile appeared on your face as you showed him your right hand. Yoongi observed the joint between your thumb and index finger, and wondering where you got that, he tried to take it from your hands.

You took a step back, moving your arm away from him so he wouldn’t steal it. “What? Is this not legal?” You chuckled.

“Who gave you that?” He asked, grabbing your wrist, but you raised your arm higher.

“Are you interrogating me?” You kept teasing him, fighting his hold. “I’m sorry Mr. Min, but I’m not a snitch.”

Yoongi let go of your wrist, quickly giving up. “Are you not sharing?” He asked, a little disappointed.

“I don’t know.” You pointed your finger at your chin, pretending to think about it “Are you allowed?”

You walked past him, heading towards the entrance to exit the place. “You’re so annoying.” You heard him say, already knowing he was following you.

Both of you knew that the night was coming to an end, as soon as you stepped foot on the street you could smell the dew on the grass and hear how loud were your footsteps on the empty street. You looked at him through your lashes, observing him lighting up the joint between your lips as with a lighter he found in his pockets. You held the smoke inside your mouth for a few seconds before blowing it on his face, but he just laughed, stealing from your lips.

You wondered what else you could do to make him stay a bit longer.

He crossed the desolate street, grabbing your hand to drag you into the poorly illuminated park. It was really cold and you could see your cold breath in the air. Everyone else in the world seemed to agree that it was time to sleep, but you didn’t dare to complain as he decided to take the long way home.

“How do you know when you’re high?” He curiously asked, eyes locking up with yours as he took another draw.

It was easy for you to tell, you could get high with only one puff. “I have this thing, I test if my teeth are heavy.” You told him, expecting him to understand right away.

He laughed, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Look, if you clench your jaw you can tell that your teeth touch each other.” You explained. Yoongi stopped dead in his tracks, standing in front of you to test it himself. “I know that I’m high when my top teeth are feeling heavy.”

Yoongi snorted, keeping his mouth closed to test it himself. “I don’t know if mine are heavy.” He said “Are yours?”

You already knew you’re high, but you tested it regardless. Closing your mouth, you pressed your teeth together to know “Yes, they are.” You laughed, feeling dizzy. “How do you know?”

It wasn’t the first time you saw Yoongi high, you remembered that time, you were woken up at three in the morning when your brother dragged him into your house after their graduation party because he smoked too much, and Yoongi’s mom couldn’t find out that her son almost died because he didn't know how to use a bong.

It was the first time that he made Simon look like the responsible friend. Yoongi was seeing shadows before leaving the party and when he arrived at your home was calmer, but still high. He was strangely afraid of going upstairs, so the three of you stayed in the living room watching very low quality episodes of Pinky and The Brain on YouTube. Simon let you stay under the condition of not telling your mom about Yoongi having a bad trip, so you did. The memory of Yoongi laughing at the screen and eating the cake your mom bought to celebrate was still very engraved in your mind.

This version was very different. Yoongi’s hooded eyes were crystallized and there was an awkward smile plastered on his face that wasn’t going away. You could tell he was high in the way he was walking, and especially in the way he was still holding your hand.

The silence lingered in the air for a second. He pressed his lips together, scanning your face. “I know I’m high when it’s hard for me to tell if I’m looking at one thing or the whole picture.” He tried to explain “Like, I can’t focus on more than one thing at once.”

Somehow, you understood. “What are you looking at right now?”

In that moment, Yoongi seemed to be asking himself that very same question in his head, but he already knew the answer.

“Your mouth.” He replied innocently.

Someone in the very back of your mind started to wave a big red flag, but on the surface, where an intoxicated version of yourself was laying under the moonlight, you could only laugh.

“Isn’t it a bit distracting?” You asked him, pulling him forward so he would start walking towards the exit of the park.

“Yes, very.” he guaranteed “But I don’t mind.”

Yoongi followed you out of the park, and in a team of two you remembered the way to your home. It was like both of your brains had turned off, the conversation didn’t have to mean anything, you didn’t have to wonder why he was there with you at all.

The clock on your phone said that it was three in the morning, but in your mind time had stopped forever, or at least until next morning. When you turned the corner and reached the end of the street, you knew it was time to say goodbye. But what if you didn’t want to?

You struggled to find your keys, maybe because you were high or maybe because you just didn’t want to remember where the keys were. And when you had to open the door, you leaned against the door frame to say your last words.

You looked at him with hooded eyes, his pink lips were slightly parted, like they were about to say something but they didn’t. In the haze of the moment you thought it looked just like an invitation to kiss him, but of course you wouldn’t. Of course you couldn’t.

What you could do, instead, was prevent him from leaving, at least for a while. Was that allowed? You weren’t in your right mind to answer that question.

You sighed, sleepy, touching the collar of his shirt. “I can’t let you go home like this.” You let out, faster than you could think.

Yoongi scrunched his nose. “It’s fine, it’s just a few blocks away.” He waved off your concern, but his feet were dug deeply on the wood floor of your porch.

“It’s not a few blocks away.” You argued “You live like ten blocks away, and you’re still high…”

“I can manage.” He smirked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear like it was nothing.

“C’mon, you can stay.” You offered. “My bed is big enough for both of us.”

Your voice came as a whisper, but your words are clearly heard by Yoongi. He scoffed, causing you to start laughing “I didn’t mean that.” You blurted out. trying to correct yourself, but he was already laughing at you.

“What did you mean?” He was curious.

You lightly punched his shoulder. “I meant that… You can stay.” You repeated “Besides… There’s still Simon’s old clothes you can wear to sleep.”

He raised his eyebrows, getting closer to your face, or not, you weren’t sure.

“What would your mom say?” He mumbled, still in denial.

“What?” You chuckled “I’ll tell her the truth. I’ll just say you were too drunk to come back home.”

“That’s not the truth.” He said, booping your nose, but you could barely feel the coldness of his touch.

“Do I really have to tell her that we were high?” You wondered, booping his nose back.

Yoongi smiled, knowing you were right. “I guess not.” He admitted.

“So?” You dared to insist.

“I’ll stay…” He said, putting a finger up. “Under one condition…”

“You want me to tuck you in bed?” You said, laughing at your own joke like it was the funniest thing you had ever said.

Yoongi snorted, covering your mouth with his hand so you wouldn’t keep making loud noises. “No, not that.” He shook his head. “You have to make me breakfast.”

You bit the palm of his hand, making him pull away with a groan. “Is that what your life is worth?” You teased “Breakfast?”

“I’m not gonna die walking ten blocks.”

“What if you enter a bad trip?” You joked “The streets are scary when it’s dark.”

“C’mon, don’t talk about bad trips.” He closed his eyes shut, like he was trying to picture flowers and kittens so he wouldn’t think of something bad.

“God, Yoongi. Are you staying or not?”

He sighed, opening his eyes to display his characteristic gummy smile. “Fine Pinky.” He gave in, “Show me how big your bed is.”

taglist: @kingofbodyrolls @tea4sykes @overtherainbow35 @namin13 @p34rluv @moonchild1 @oukya @yoongisoftface @namgihours @honsoolgloss @idkjustlovingbts @loviyunki @yoongisducky @bangtansmauyeondan @tarahardcore @wobblewobble822 @secfir @ot72025 @baechugff @hopeefulchick @heroinanne @mortal-body-timelesssoul @lizzm98 @hiii-priestess @wii-wii @jungkookies1002 @busanbby-jjk @acquiescence804

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rusmii · 2 months

Text

⌞ઇଓ⌝ ─── 𝓭𝓮𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 .ᐟ

when an artist from russia is hired to paint the portrait of the first daughter of [Surname], how will their relationship pan out as they start to get to know each other?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. painter!fyodor x fem!reader, fluff, reader is a rich girl, fyodor is a foreigner, founding father language, fyodor character exploration, renaissance au.. I think

𝐩𝐬. haihai special early valentines gift for @aureatchi <3 luv ya revrev. NOT edited/proofread. was supposed to be longer, but I got tired and cut it💔

wc: 1.4k

“From where?” A question sprung from her chest.

“From Rus’, my lady,” the butler of [Surname] answers for him. Though her outward expression told him enough, Fyodor took this initiative to smile in respect.

“Yes, sir is correct — I am indeed from Rus’. Nice to meet the fair lady of [Surname].”

In quick addition, Fyodor bows slightly as he takes your hand into his. The gentle kiss placed on top of your white laced gloves still didn't seem to sway your opinion on him, however. How unfortunate.

After acknowledging his confirmation, Fyodor is swept away by the butler as you were with the maidens of the mansion.

Outside of the mansion was absolutely breathtaking. Circling around the fountain and to the main entrance of the tea house, Fyodor admires the new freshness of warm spring flowers.

Akin to that of his homeland, the flowers here in your country serve to be much more beautiful — as beautifully breathtaking as you are.

No third party opinion can convince him otherwise, that's for sure.

But for now, Fyodor must focus on his main job at hand; to draw a portrait of you.

It wasn't a hard job, per say. No, it was very much easy if he said so himself. But what really composed the challenge was the subject of fine details.

When an artist paints, you can easily follow along the very first few blobs of wet paint — the muse being satisfied from just a few pecks of fine strokes and a little bit of color here and there to liven up the look.

But those large specks of blobs soon turn into smaller little blotches of paint that are scattered everywhere on the canvas the higher the muse is willing to pay.

A very fine example of that would be you. A very demanding lady who expects the finest of quality works to be subjected to you when you're the main attraction.

While some had something to say about your ridiculous demands, Fyodor liked to say the opposite.

Because in his eyes, what other artists lacked was the fundamentals of the person doing the art.

It wasn't just confident brush strokes or the signature style of a person's canvas.

No, it was patience.

What others lacked was what he had acquired since birth.

And to him, that was exactly why many artists weren't able to meet your expectations. Why you were so disappointed when you first saw the finished product of your portrait.

Every single pretty piece of you just wasn't you. It was of another girl sitting in your place with the more descriptive details of your face.

In short, he thinks every self-proclaimed artist in your kingdom should rot for even daring to pick up the brush.

Ugly, so ugly that it had become ridiculous. Every pass by on the street, did Fyodor run into these cheap street artists that did nothing but sketch the outline of your body and called it a day.

Every corner turned was a portrait shop in the periphery of his vision. Even then, the finished product looked absolutely hideous.

He now saw why he was desperately called upon from your maidens despite his absent leave.

If he was judgested from the displays of art this kingdom had to offer, then he could guess how horrible you were feeling when you found out that the arts were just disrespected inside the premise of this land.

“We've arrived. Please do try not to fight with each other.” Announcing the arrival of his company, Fyodor bows, and thanks the butler for escorting him. “Thank you for going out of your way to escort me here, sir.”

A smile made its way on the butler's face. ‘Seems as if he's not used to these praisments,’ Fyodor thinks before waving the butler off from sight.

Now that he was alone, he set his eyes on the double wooden door. Its gorgeous carved craft made him question why the artists just weren't up to par as other vapa professions in the area.

“Lovely for you to join me today, Dostoevsky,” the clink of your teacup very well matched your outfit. Seemed as if you were the stylish type.

Not that he minded. In fact, he very much appreciated you being the second most beautifully fitted piece he's laid his eyes on since stepping foot into this kingdom.

“Not at all, my lady,” Fyodor sips his tea, the plaid smile resting comfortably on his face. “Hm.. If I had known how polite you'd be, I'd very much have approached you with a far pleasant attitude.” Ah. Apology accepted, Miss [Surname].

“No, no. I do not condemn you for your misuse of tone towards me. I, too, would have been irritated had I known that the artists of the kingdom I was residing in were.. erm..” How should he put it without offending your nationalism pride?

“Horrid?” You finished the word for him. “Yes, horrid,” his smile grows as a response to you. A mutual smile following the lines of your face as well. Fyodor sets his cup aside, walking over to the art set, sitting next to the beautifully lined vines.

He inspects the canvas and quality paints rowed out into columns. “Do you guys usually have sets out sitting like this?” He asks.

“Just for the occasion.”

“Ah.”

For a few more seconds, Fyodor takes his time to admire the smooth wooden palette. Its edges looked as if it fit a comfortable vice and didn't retain any splinters.

He notices your eyes on him. Indirectly, the light of the teahouse mirrors his reflection.

Turning his attention back to you, Fyodor decides to muse you on your questions. “Care to chat about your questions, my lady?”

His perception almost caught you off guard. Almost.

Coughing up the air from your throat, you sit upright to fix your posture and re-cross your legs to sit in a mannered form while Fyodor sits timely across from you.

“Well, to start off…” Pausing to take a sip of your tea for dramatic effects, Fyodor waits patiently for your first question. “Why did you accept the offer to paint my portrait when you were on absence?”

Without skipping a beat, Fyodor responds with a quick that's a bit personal.

Which led to you choking up on your strings and having him lead the conversation.

Fyodor stirs his spoon inside the teacup. The sugar cube melting away from the light waved of bitterness.

The silence that was started by him now was broken by him. “How did you arrive at the teahouse so early, before me?” A simple question, but still something nonetheless.

“I had taken the short route whilst as I had him give you the scenic view the kingdom could not offer you." A somewhat apology from you on the behalf of the people. An empathic gesture that was not needed from you.

“I see…” Fyodor let out a short witted answer. His interest in this conversation dwindled as fast as the kingdom's normal artisan.

His faded expressions sent bells to your head. The commoners bore all too familiar with you.

Trying to find another topic that'll get him to stay, Fyodor abruptly stands up from his seat and stalks over to the set.

His never ending fixation.

“Get up and sit here. Bring your chair too,” he suddenly orders you — his demeanor all too serious from who you were just talking to a second ago.

“Agh. Blasphemous,” he hears you mutter your breath, but chose not to confront you on anything as you were complying with his demands.

“Sit, sit.” He ushers you into a spot under the direct sunlight where it shines the brightest.

You cross your arms, “Don't tell me what to do in my own teahouse.”

Ignoring your words, he grabs a hold of the paint brush lying in the tray. “Chin up, head straight. Posture fixed and don't move.”

Distraught with complaints, your expression sours as you zip your lips to refrain from spouting any irrationally nonsense.

“Loosen up your face,” he says, dipping the brush into the water as he picks up a nearby pencil to measure your outline.

You huff, “Why?”

His soft smile still adorned his face, “To capture your beauty in my memory.”

Memory? Dostoevsky wants to remember your beauty forever?

While thoughts skyrocket out of your head, Fyodor takes this opportunity to start sketching your aloof expression.

The graphite from his pencil marks every curve, dent, mark, and bump of your face to a t. Every color that his brush paints over color matches you perfectly.

Even if he couldn't deny your beauty, you were still a snot nosed brat who longed for praise and compliments at the end of the day.

Still, despite your huffing and puffing — he found you the prettiest when he could stare at your relaxed face.

hi first fyodor fluff fic🫣

taglist (comment on this post to be tagged in future works!): @luvan1 @bfdazai @asqmi @squigglewigglewoo @liviash @doonifox @ishqani @xxcandlelightxx

belongs to @rusmii 2024, don't steal >:((

#[ৎ୭ 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠]#hi hello #im vv tired #and sleepy #and tired #fyodor x reader #fyodor dodostoevsky x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor x y/n #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bungou stray dogs x you #bungou stray dogs x y/n

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art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament · 9 months

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Behold, a bracket!

Text form below the cut because trying to copy all the 256 into the alt text sounded.... horrifying. Warning for 128 matchups, seriously, this list is long, and so I've avoided adding the artists until the polls.

a note: the pinned post has started misbehaving, so only open polls will be directly linked. closed polls instead have the results page linked in the set header, all the polls are linked from there

Set 1

The Lament for Icarus (Miao He) vs The Lament for Icarus (Herbert Draper)

The angel came to me in a fever hallucination, perched upon my bed as I returned from the bathroom. vs Sweet Brown Snail

Figures vs A Philosopher Lecturing on the Orrery

Happy Shoppers vs Hubble Deep Field

Lovers Painting vs Bath Curtain

Dr. Helen Taussig vs Une Martyre

Orangoutang étranglant un sauvage de Bornéo (Orangutan strangling a Borneo savage) vs Can’t Help Myself

Rape vs Technicolor Hiroshima

Set 2

A Walk at Dusk vs Based on “Autoportrait with the Model” by Maria-Rayevska Ivanova

Diary Page vs Les Jours Gigantesques (The Titanic Days)

Dead of Night vs You Won't

Christina's World vs Bobby

Untitled (I’m Turning Into A Specter Before Your Very Eyes And I’m Going To Haunt You) vs Two Sisters (On the Terrace)

Sharecropper vs Lustmord

The Parca and the Angel of Death vs Untitled (Zdzisław Beksiński)

Stress vs The Fallen Angel

Set 3

Device to Root Out Evil vs Travelling Light

Diana vs Fifty Days at Iliam: The Fire that Consumes All before It

The Plains, from Memory vs Exotic Bodies

Doubting Thomas vs Self-Portrait in the Bathroom Mirror

Empty Nest vs Somebody Fell From Aloft

Anguish vs If I Died

Cat in Obsolete Bath vs You're Not Boring Anymore

Salvator Mundi (Savior of the World) vs Untitled (billboard of an empty unmade bed)

Set 4

There Will Be No Miracles Here vs Symphony of the Sixth Blast Furnace

Fox Hunt vs Tarpaulin

Khajuraho Group of Monuments vs Ranakpur Jain Temple

ปราสาทสัจธรรม (The Sanctuary of Truth) vs Grande Panorama de Lisboa

Heroic Head of Pierre de Wissant, One of the Burghers of Calais vs The Weather

The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit vs If this is art

Statue of Vincent and Theo van Gogh vs Jeanne d’Arc écoutant les voix (Joan of Arc listening to the Voices)

Fountain vs Judith Slaying Holofernes

Set 5

Cueva de las Manos (Cave of Hands) vs Cave of El Castillo

Chauvet Cave Bear vs Uffington White Horse

Laocoön and His Sons vs Winged Victory of Samothrace

Crouching Aphrodite vs Statue of Taweret

Guardian Figure vs Kūya-Shonin (Saint Kuya)

Ancient Greek doll vs Arena #7 (Bears)

Enbu (炎舞) (Dancing in the Flames) vs Yearning Shadows

Belfast to Byzantium vs Freedom

Set 6

The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayan vs Portraits

The Blood Mirror vs Nighthawks

Electric Fan (Feel it Motherfuckers): Only Unclaimed Item from the Stephen Earabino Estate vs "Untitled" (Portrait of Ross in L.A.)

Lady Agnew of Lochnaw vs Forgotten Dreams

Saint Bride vs Pixeles (a group of 9 works)

War Pieta vs The Sunset

The Handmaidens of Sivawara Preparing the Sacred Bull at Tanjore for a Festival vs Ajax and Cassandra

Nāve (Death) vs Abstraction

Set 7

Yes vs Meeting on the Turret Stair

Hacked to Death II vs Stańczyk

Closeness Lines Over Time vs Voice of Fire

The Maple Trees at Mama, the Tekona Shrine and Tsugihashi Bridge vs Portrait of Sir Thomas More

Survival Series: In a Dream You Saw a Way vs Takiyasha the Witch and the Skeleton Spectre

Death blowing bubbles vs The Kitchen Table Series

Painting 1946 vs In the Grip of Winter

Untitled (Black and Gray) vs NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt

Set 8

Blue Plate Special vs Red Cedar

Palace of Fine Arts vs Mosque–Cathedral of Córdoba

Le Château des Pyrénées (The Castle of the Pyrenees) vs Susanna and the Elders, Restored - X-Ray

Moby Dick vs Viva la Vida, Watermelons

Venus Envy Chapter One (Of the First Holy Communion Moments Before the End) vs how to look at art

St. Sebastian vs Untitled #12

Carroña vs The invincible one

Untitled (Two Dogs) vs The Dog

SECOND HALF

Set 9

David (Donatello) vs David (Michelangelo)

The Other Side vs The Temptation of St. Jerome

Seated Woman with Bent Knees vs Starry Night

Headdress - Shadae vs Untitled for the Image Flow's Queer Conscience exhibit

Woman with Dead Child (Frau mit totem Kind) vs Les Amants (The Lovers)

Siroče na majčinom grobu (Orphan on Mother's Grave) vs You Make My World a Better Place to Find

Fighting Against SARS Memorial Architectural Scene (弘揚抗疫精神建築景觀) vs Fallingwater

Resting vs The Hull

Set 10

Olive Trees vs Worship

Glow vs Wheatfield with Crows

Study after Velázquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent X vs Untitled (He Plays Very Badly)

D.I.Y. by John Wiswell vs The Tragedy

Judith and the Head of Holofernes vs Beethovenfries (Beethoven Frieze)

The Memory of Me (How Could I Forget) vs oh god i had a really big epiphany about love and personhood but i’m too drunk for words

I am happy because everyone loves me vs 瀕危形態 (Endangered Forms)

Three Scaffolders vs Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan

Set 11

San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk vs Water-Lilies, Reflection of a Weeping Willow

The Grief of the Pasha vs Monolith in Vigeland Sculpture Park

Passion vs Space Diner

Hamlet and Ophelia vs Two Earthlings

Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth vs Seer Bonnets

Photograph from "SNAP OSAKA" Collection vs Clytemnestra after the Murder

“Untitled” (Perfect Lovers) vs The Lovers (TIE)

Kedai Ubat Jenun vs Orange Store Front

Set 12

The Apotheosis of War vs Portrait of the Dancer Aleksandr Sakharov

Julie Manet vs Mouth

The Icebergs vs Kaleidoscope Cats III

Maman vs Caza Nocturna (Night Hunt)

The Book of Kells Folio 188r: Luke carpet page vs Ardagh Chalice

Yusuf and Zulaikha vs Dome of the Rock mosaics

Rowan Leaves and Hole vs Untitled (prisonhannibal)

Le Désespéré (The Desperate Man) vs The Dedication

Set 13

Deimos vs Dog and Bridge

The Mocking of Christ vs Prudence

The Broken Column vs Siberian Ice Maiden shoulder tattoo

Transi de René de Chalon (Cadaver Tomb of René of Chalon) vs Head of Christ

The Day vs Spirit of Haida Gwaii

Eleanor Boathouse at Park 571 vs Jatiya Sangsad Bhaban জাতীয় সংসদ ভবন (National Parliament House)

Juventud de Baco (Bacchus Youth) vs Barges on the Seine

Oath of the Horattii closeup vs Visit hos Excentrisk Dam (Visit to an eccentric lady)

Set 14

Christ Crucified (With Donor) vs St. Francis

Thunder Raining Poison vs Piazza d'Italia

The Grove vs Among the Waves

Pintura Mural de Alarcón vs Sagrada Família stained-glass windows

Noonday Heat vs La Dame à la licorne (The Lady and The Unicorn)

Matroser i Gröna Lund (Sailors in Gröna Lund) vs Gielda Plakatu

Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks vs The Garden of Earthly Delights

Kuoleman puutarha (The Garden of Death) vs Haavoittunut enkeli (The Wounded Angel)

Set 15

i've wasted a lifetime pretending to be me vs da oracle

minus #37 vs Panel from Fun Home

Excerpt from illustrated edition of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner vs La Mort de Marat (The Death of Marat)

The Veil vs Düsseldorf 4 (Museum Kunst Palast)

Capriccio vs Zodiac calendar for La Plume

The official imperial portrait of empress dowager Cixi vs José y Maria

Blooming Lilacs vs Lágrimas De Sangre (Tears of Blood)

An Interlude vs Boy Staring at an Apparition

Set 16

Mermer Waiskeder: Stories of the Moving Tide vs The Gran Hotel Ciudad de México Art Nouveau interior

Unfinished Painting vs To Arms!

Memorial to a Marriage vs The Island

Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn vs A Few Small Nips

Saturn Devouring His Son vs Guernica

Fairy Princesses vs Lamentation over the Dead Christ

Mummy with An Inserted Panel Portrait of a Youth vs Little Girl Looking Downstairs at Christmas Party

Agnus vs The Cup Of His Murders Is Flowing Over And In His Coat Shall Be Many Curses

#art that fucks you up tournament #announcement #links are in the read more!

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ventique18 · 1 year

Text

I hope Malmal's third bday vignette explains why tf he has a self portrait/sculpture of himself in his room.

I was thinking it's a self portrait because it was a trend amongst artists ages ago, but maybe it's his depiction of the thorn witch? Or maybe it's a gift from his grandma? Or maybe his mother was also a sculptor and this was her art of his father?

Anyway I think he's the type of madlad who'd sculpt you on marble so beautifully you'd look like a greek god fountain. The Diasomnia students had to fight hard to convince him not to place it in the middle of their garden.

#twisted wonderland #ventique rambles #malleus draconia #malleus x reader

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prosaic-dust-bunny · 1 year

Text

Envy and Jealousy Part 1

Genshin Vignettes

Genshin!men x Male reader

Characters featured: Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Cyno & Diluc;

Content: Fluff and a little suggestiveness in the Ayato one.

Discussion: Envy and Jealousy are hard to work through. It is possible to end up projecting your insecurities on the people surrounding you if you aren't self aware. However, all these things aren’t inherently linked to possessiveness and toxic relationship patterns. Why am I writing all this? As I’m making silly littles vignettes on envy and jealousy about 2D characters, I want to clarify that those feelings can be traced back to the values centered in our societies - namely individuality and ownership in a patriarchal and capitalist system. Traced back, not excused. All in all, we often confound acts driven by jealousy as proof of love. Jealousy in relationships is common, but I believe the way it is addressed - with open communication, is a testament to one's ability to love. In other words, if someone reflects on their jealousy and recognizes their possessiveness or need for control as issues they need to work on, that’s the real commitment towards the relationship. Jealousy can be endearing, but left unchecked it can lead quickly to a toxic relationship.

Albedo - Seated at a table near Good hunter you had your nose in a book and from time to time you glanced over at Albedo who was sketching something in front of you, probably an unsuspecting subject that had caught his eyes. You were truly grateful for those times spent in his company mostly because you had reached a point you didn’t feel the need to talk and could simply enjoy the time going by slowly in his company.

After some time, Timaeus, who was operating the alchemical crafting bench on the other side of the fountain plaza, approached and interrupted Albedo’s creative process to ask him some questions about the technicalities of the procedures he used to brew a certain potion. You didn’t make out the details, but took the opportunity to leave for the bathroom since you had been sipping on lemonade all afternoon.

When you returned you noticed how Albedo seemed somewhat displeased at answering the growing pile of questions from his colleague. When Albedo noticed your presence, he immediately excused himself away from Timaeus and pulled you by the hand in direction of the Headquarter of the Knights of Favonius. He mentioned not being able to finish your portrait because he was disturbed by the other man and wanting to make a new one somewhere you wouldn’t be bothered by anyone. Nobody encroaches on his time spent with you, those moments are yours and only yours. Leading you to his private quarters, he made sure you were the sole subject of his attention.

Alhaitham - On an early morning in Port Ormos, you and your partner made your way into a dusty library in a secondary alley of the marketplace. You were looking for a particular essay studying the theological implications of the Sefer Yetzirah or Book of Formation and the author was said to have a position that dissent from the many scholarly theories on the matter. Sadly the book itself didn’t have a lot of print and it didn’t seem like a new edition would be coming. You pushed the door of the library which made the little bell attached to it resound into the small room filled with books from floor to ceiling. You and Alhaitham went toward two different sections, browsing for the desired book from shelf to shelf.

You were soon joined by the library clerk who seemed about the same age as you. He came up to you and asked for what you were looking for. Hearing the title of the essay, he smiled and nodded, impressed that you were looking for a book about a quite controversial subject. He smiled and added that he knew as soon as he first laid eyes on you that you looked like trouble. He left momentarily to go fetch the book in question from the backstore and brought with him a piece of paper and a pen. He took a second to scribble on it and mentioned how the topic itself was quite complicated and how the essay involved advanced notions.

As he extended his arm to give you the book and the paper with his name and address on it, he offered to give you some pointers and maybe take you on a date afterwards. He was interrupted by Alhaitham, who came up from behind you. With daggers in his eyes, he said in a monotone voice that since you were a very capable researcher in the field of philosophy, early mysticism and occult traditions, you wouldn’t need him to coach you. He added that as for a date, it was something reserved for him only; his arm reaching for your waist to add weight to his words. You paid for the book with as few words exchanged as you could, not to make the transaction any more strained. Once out of the library you raised a quizzical eyebrow at your partner who still had his hand on the small of your back, seemingly pushing you the furthest away from the library clerk as possible. When it was time for you to open the book later that day, Alhatitham insisted for you to rest on him while you both read your respective publications. He also made it clear that he was available at any time for any question you could have. When you teased him about whether he was confident in your reading comprehension skills or not, you could see him try to hide the plink flush of his face behind the hardcover of Aristotle's Physics.

Ayato - Getting ready for formal events with Ayato couldn’t be considered easy. Knowing that you would be hooked on his arm during the reception or meeting related to his functions kinda instilled in his brain he had to make the most of it. You were currently putting on the exquisite kimono he had custom made for you at Ogura Textiles & Kimonos. The silk felt sumptuous to the touch and the patterns sewn into the fabric were elegant.

You emerged from behind the folding screen and Ayato placed himself a few feet in front of you to admire the view. The commissure of his lips stretched into a smile and his eyes reflected fondness and a hint of pride. He closed the distance to adjust the opening of your kimono, taking the opportunity to feel your pecs under the fabric. His forthright action caused a tremor to spread across your body. You pulled him into a kiss to which he answered with impetuosity. Soon you were left breathless, letting him explore your jaw and neck as he was leaving trails of kisses. In the haze you left your neck fully exposed allowing the Yashiro Commissioner to seal his lips on the sensitive skin at the base of your neck and suction forcefully. So that’s what he was after from the beginning.

You lightly push against him and turn your head to get in his way. He paused to calmly look at you. He then tentatively reached for one of your hands and brought it in front of his lips to kiss it tenderly before closing it in a way that allowed him to suckle on your index finger - maintaining eye contact at all times. You giggled at the sensation and with a whisper you asked him what he needed to say to have your assent. A simple «please» escaped his lips and you used your free hand to part the silky material in a way that made your neck even more accessible. Ayato released your hand, but waited for you to nod and seductively expose your neck for him. This time, Ayato took extra care to make you feel even better trailing his teeth across your neck. He once more sealed his lips near your collarbone and sucked the skin while adding little nimbles and swirling his tongue on the yet to be bruised area. In the end, the hickey was only visible if someone paid you close attention. In a way, if someone had the audacity to look at you for too long, it would be clear you had someone in your life, and that was the man’s goal.

Cyno - Who was that? Why were you walking with them in such a decontracted manner? Cyno knew your friends, but he had never met that man walking next to you. You were strolling down the streets of Port Ormos and often stopped at the various stalls along the way. He wasn’t really spying on you and he told himself repeatedly that you would never do something bad behind his back. Cyno had tailed you since he saw you in the distance with the other and couldn’t decide what was your relationship to him. Was he a former colleague? Someone you studied with? Maybe he was an ex of yours. That would explain your physical proximity and general openness. He saw you burst into laughter, not just laughter, you were cackling and needed to steady yourself by placing a hand on the unknown man's shoulder. He caught himself wishing you laughed like that to HIS jokes.

The General Mahamatra remained hidden for the rest of your stroll and watched you climb the stairs that lead to the higher floors of Port Ormos. Soon your destination was made evident, you were going directly to Shapur Hotel. A hotel of all places, the place of predilection for extra marital relationships. You weren’t married, but that wasn’t the point. You halted in front of the building and hugged the other man. Cyno knew he could trust you, but that was playing with fire at that point. You bid your goodbyes to the other and turned back.Cyno left his hiding spot and made it straight to your shared apartment.

Once he was home, he didn't have to wait long before you arrived. Cyno steeled himself in place; the interrogation was about to begin and he would have answers. As soon as he saw your face and even before you had the time to greet him properly he fell to his knees - panic stricken, and asked if you were seeing someone else. You looked at him in confusion, clueless at what would have prompted this until you put two and two together. You made him stand up and explain that you were previously with your cousin who was visiting Port Ormos and that you were showing him around. Cyno felt as relieved as he was embarrassed. He apologized and said that the outburst wasn’t really rational of him. You reassured him and hugged him tight, even though it was a misunderstanding you could feel that your lover was quite shaken about the idea of you leaving him.

Diluc - As part of the Mondstadt branch of the Adventurer Guild you had your fair share of commission and had gained a little bit of notoriety within the city of freedom. Even Katherine praised you for your versatility and hardwork. About one month ago after clearing some hillichurl camps, you took a commission from the Knights of Favonius for whom you had to make an inventory of the supplies and rations stocked at the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. You ended up being paired with Bernhard and the task took you most of your afternoon. Thankfully the knight was friendly and reliable and you were able to finish the inventory while making some arrangements to the procedures so that the inventory was systematically balanced based on consumption and replenishment of the stock. After that commission and for the following weeks Bernhard made sure that you would be asked personally to execute the Knights of Favonius commissions. Today you received one such commission from Katherine. You had to help Bernhard visit Mondstadters to raise awareness on the new evacuation measures in case of emergency in the city. The goal was to review the evacuation plan leading to the designated safety areas in case of fires or other natural disasters and what could be done for prevention and the different methods of control that minimize the damage and risks.

After all your hard work during the previous month, Bernhard wanted to emphasize that he was grateful for your help and gifted you with a basket of baked goods and sweets. You thanked the knight and left with the delicious reward to go meet your partner at Angel’s share. Diluc was already outside of the tavern and ready to go home to Dawn Winery with you. He gave you a chaste kiss as a greeting and led you towards the main gate. He noticed the basket you were holding and foraged into it trying to snag a snack for himself. You half slapped his hand saying those were gifted to you for your efforts and that if he wanted some he needed to ask for permission first. After he used the magic word you graciously offered him a flavourful moon pie.

Walking next to him you told him about your day and the commission you had taken and finally explained the gift was from Bernhard because you were the finest adventurer in all of Mondstadt. Since Diluc didn’t react at all to your playful boasting you elbowed him to get a reaction out of him. The red head apologized for lacking consideration and you continued the conversation thinking nothing of it. Your partner was probably tired after working all day. The next day you were woken up by Diluc bringing breakfast in bed. You asked what the occasion was and he answered he just felt like it. You were taking the day off so you had nothing planned and were able to enjoy the act of kindness. Your partner was a great chef and the grape juice was also a recognizable personal touch from the man you loved. In the afternoon, you were given a Cecilia bouquet most romantically and even if you tried to know what this was all about, Diluc deflected the question. In the following days you received many more gifts, little notes and it all culminated one evening when you received new gear for your adventuring duties and an invitation to spend the evening with him and a glass of apple cider.

Diluc brought you to the balcony adjacent to his room on the second floor of the manor. Once in the intimacy of his room, you stopped him in his tracks and demanded that he tell you why he was showering you with gifts. You liked everything he picked for you, but you stated you didn’t need all of it. Diluc took you in his arms and answered that he was reminded not so long ago that he had a wonderful boyfriend and it would be a shame if only some work colleagues were the ones to give him gifts. Not missing a beat Diluc suggested you both leave on the following day for a romantic getaway to Dornman Port where you could relax and spend time together without the pressure and responsibilities of Mondstadt.

#genshin impact x male reader #genshin x male reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin headcanons #genshin fanfics #genshin fanfic #genshin ff #genshin fluff #genshin impact queer #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #albedo x male reader #al haitham x male reader #ayato x male reader #cyno x male reader #diluc x male reader #genshin #原神 #genshin impact

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1000sassa1000 · 22 days

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“Self-portrait (Fountain)” of “I Miss You Already” by Shen Wei

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mirror-ralsei · 7 months

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PREDICTIONS: Ralsei

or, why this pile of rock is going to tear my heart out

Ralsei is a Titan.

"The unending pillar of darkness that gives my body form" dedication in Ralsei's manual matches Ralsei's description of Titans "tak[ing] form from the FOUNTAINS"

Ralsei's body completely disappears when downed

Ralsei was first completely shadowy and amorphous within his hooded cloak, then a bit more defined but still shadowy under his hat, before finally settling on a more visible form at the end of Chapter 1

Just before removing his hat, for a couple of frames Ralsei's sprite changes his paw color from black to white. As well, where Ralsei previously had black paws in various animations such as clapping or spell use, they are now white in Chapter 2. These suggest that Ralsei's shadowy appearance is not simply caused by the shade from his hat.

Ralsei's initial description is a somewhat ambiguous "Dark-World being"

Unlike normal Darkners, Ralsei does not turn to stone and can seemingly teleport between Dark Worlds at will

Ralsei is the sole denizen of Castle Town, an area seemingly abandoned or evacuated, where Titan-like eye marks and darkness covers the land

Ralsei knows a lot about the Roaring

"Do not be alarmed... I am not your enemy." is one of Ralsei's first words to Kris and Susie

Ralsei wants to redeem himself for participating in the last Roaring by stopping it from happening again.

Again: Ralsei is the sole denizen of Castle Town, an area seemingly abandoned or evacuated, where Titan-like eye marks and darkness covers the land

Ralsei’s portrait/sprite when talking about the Roaring seems haunted

Ralsei says “I...I’m sorry!!! I repent!!!” in the generally foreshadowy Poppup dialogue

However, Ralsei is an unwitting pawn in a greater villain's scheme.

Ralsei is characterized as overly keen to follow orders.

Poppup dialogue: “Ralsei moved to click on an ad with a bunny on it teaching you how to make friends... ...and accidentally clicked on an ad of a machine gun that appeared over it!” / “Ralsei tried to click on an ad with a castle on it... ...but it was actually an ad for a company that demolishes buildings with bazookas!”

Again: Poppup dialogue: “I... I didn’t mean to do it... I... I’m sorry!!! I repent!!!”

In order to fix his mistakes or save the world, Ralsei may sacrifice himself, perhaps becoming the Waterfall statue in Undertale.

Undyne states "That statue's been here forever... No one knows where it came from." This description seems similar to Gerson's explanation of the Delta Rune: "That emblem actually predates written history. The original meaning has been lost to time..."

The statue is greyscale and cracked, like Darkners such as Lancer when turned to stone

The statue has horns, like Ralsei (note that the direction of Ralsei's horns varies across sprites/portraits and concept art, sometimes being turned inward and other times outward)

The statue is associated with the song "Memory," which is associated with Asriel, who appears connected to Ralsei

The statue in Waterfall may have been part of the original Royal Memorial Fountain before Mettaton's statue replaced it

If so: Ralsei is associated with all three concepts of a "Royal Memorial Fountain," being a prince who is made from a Dark Fountain and, as "memory" is a prevalent theme in Deltarune and Ralsei sings its "Don't Forget" motif in battle, with remembrance as well

Other things:

Ralsei appears self-aware in the same way as Jevil and others.

"(SAVE and take a break anytime you want, OK?)"

"Even if it's not real, you can still have fun, right?"

"It seems like it was just a corrupted program."

There may be multiple "Ralsei"s in some way.

“They [two Ralsei plushes] are both correct. Both beautiful.” (Toby Fox on Ch 1 Livestream)

“Every Ralsei is equally beautiful.” (Toby Fox on Ch 1 Livestream)

“I just wonder what... being “Ralsei-like” even is...?”

Unknown: why does Queen not notice Ralsei?

“How Thoughtful You Two Have Come To Help Me / Kris, Susie / Which One Of You Wants To Be The New Knight”

“Hey Was There A Third Guy?????????”

“I Will Miss Each Of You / Noelle, Your Un-needed Honesty / Susie, Your Foolish Bravery / Kris, Your Chill Vibes / ... / B...Burghley?”

Unknown: why does Ralsei (seemingly) know about the ThornRing?

"..." if given

(screenshots: 1 2)

DISCLAIMER: this is a predictions post, just laying out the predictions that i have currently and my personal reasoning. eg. i am by no means the first or only person to consider titan ralsei rofl

#deltarune theory #ralsei deltarune #utdr theory #ralsei #deltarune #this is just me putting my chips down i can be wrong super hard #this is more for the express purposes of flipping a lid if i turn out to be right actually #<- mission statement of this blog. if im wrong it will be funny if im right it will be funnier #anyway the statue stuff is wishful thinking but i do genuinely feel ralsei will be an antagonist but not evil. hes just easy to manipulate #and im getting tragic ending vibes off him but it could just be setting up a subversion since we already went there with asriel #...oh also this wasn't clear but if the statue is ralsei i'd assume he gets statuefied from being cut off from deltarune entirely #since he seems immune to normal causes of statuefication. but being in an entirely different game could qualify as 'not fitting'#i like to think maybe he would stay behind in undertale or something knowing his fate for some heroic sacrifice but i have no idea lol #ETA forgot about the thorn ring

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identityquest · 22 hours

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fountain pen self portrait 🫰

#strato.txt #sketch #tempestuous #im at work and dont wanna be :/

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cydanite · 1 year

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I like to think of the different cultures that have interpreted Jimmy mezalea has the most charitable views of him they used to be Allies with the codlands so they would give him the benefit of the doubt so you said Jimmy in uncomfortable with the good interpretations but if he found something Joel specifically made would he believe because it was made by someone that actually knew him or would it make him feel more guilty then average and hit harder because it’s more personal

In Azelo City (Modern day Mezalea capital for this AU) there is a statue garden surrounding the Tree of Life (or where it once stood?). Every statue in this garden is said to have been sculpted by the old Mezalean King's hands. The clay they are made of is fragile, given their centuries-long lifespan, and they have worn and degraded over the years. Luckily the King's palace studio they were created and stored in remained intact and sheltered enough to save most of his works. Nowadays non-destructive and reversible enchantments keep their condition stable for the foreseeable future.

Amid these statues, a small majority of which are self-portraits, is a fountain, sculpted in clay and then cast in iron. Cod swarm up its side, spitting water in arcs. At its top stands a man in a cod-shaped helm, bursting gracefully out of metal waves with a school of cod at his side. The Cod King shares his spot in the park with its sister fountain, adorned in axolotl, surrounded by walking paths and picnic grounds.

The Mezalean King, amidst many things, was known for being a bit cheeky at times. And this cheekiness carried into his art. And so every hour on the hour the man and woman, beautiful and ephemeral atop their posts, spit once into the fountain for each hour that has passed. Park goers can listen for the sound of three consecutive splooshes and be safe in the knowledge that it is 3 o'clock.

As for Jimmy's reaction, I think I'd want to draw that later down the line. Keep an eye out for that c:

#nothing and no one will keep me from making everything about speculative world building #which remind me I need to ramble about my nether headcanons at some point #swamp duo au #empires smp au #empires au #esmp au #empires smp #mcyt #mcytblr #cydanasks #adina123

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katenepveu · 6 months

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Museum for Art in Wood (Part 5)

The last of my posts about the Museum for Art in Wood! This is the set of things that made me or my companion say, This ought to be a SFF book cover, or a story prompt, or some other speculative fiction type-thing.

For instance, every single thing on this shelf is a SFF story. By Fabrice Micha: 370, Sculpture and 632, Castle. By Michael Mode: 636, Akbar's Delight. By Michael Mocho, 505, Satinwood Hollow Form; 635, Box; and 467, Sentinel.

These two ought to be Yuletide fandoms: A Collection of Goblets, Chalices, and Spirit Vessels from the Seventeen Peoples of the Eight Inner Worlds by Stephen Mark Paulsen, which is incredibly hard to photograph but the official photo is hardly any better??

And Desert Winter on Marquard IV, and Twelve Sacred Objects Exposed by the Storm by the same artist; fortunately the official photo is pretty decent because mine is not worth looking at.

Self Portrait by Michelle Holzapfel. This one feels very like a book cover (and actually has an artist statement at the link!).

I was going to put this one in "Sculpture" and then I saw the title: Post Nuclear Vessel by Ron Kent.

Ditto except that it's The Shedding Skin of Evelyn Mind by Jay Heryet.

I was so enamored of the spiky nature of the one on the front left that I didn't notice it was matches until my companion pointed it out; I was thinking mouths or viruses. (It's called Art Object to be Destroyed by Hilary Pfeifer, Dennis Carr, and Neil Scobie.) And I think the one on the right is a spaceship, though the artist Rolly Munro calls it Oceanic Angel. (I don't know what the one in the back left is.)

Interactive by Andrew Potocnik made me think of if n-tailed foxes shed all their tails at once. (The components are arranged differently in the website picture, basically parallel.)

That sure is a Space Burger, by Hap Sakwa.

I'm delighted to say that my companion pointed out the picture on the left below as something from Star Wars. And it is actually titled Vader Box #3, by Stephen Hughes. (Just visible to the right is the gas giant it's flying around, Strata by Grant Vaughan.)

This is a Great Fairy Fountain, was my first thought. But it genuinely belongs in this section: it's titled Grapefruit to the Moon, by Steve Madsen, and it does open up (pictures at link).

This is somewhere between War of the Worlds and a beetle. (Dancing Tryclops by Michael Brolly.)

Finally, this is incredibly charming and I'm glad the website picture is decent because there wasn't room for me to get one: Time Standing Still by Po Shun Leong and Bob Stocksdale.

And now I'm finally done, woo!

#sculpture #woodworking #Museum for Art in Wood #Philadelphia #mine-ish #art

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coffeeandmagicaltales · 6 months

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The Auror&The Devil part 5

After Professor Fig's death, prof. Sharp was supposed to take on the role of Morana's mentor. First lesson with potion's master and first doubts- they can't be friends, can they?

A story born in my head, about my OC character Morana and prof. Aesop Sharp. Sorry for my english, I'm from Poland.

(FLUFF, Student-teacher relationship platonic (for now), mentioned trauma, mentioned death, extensive use of the word f*ck, make some coffee/tea and enjoy)

Sundays at Hogwarts always belonged to the laziest days of the week. At 9:40 in the morning, there was a solemn silence in the corridors, and even Peeves didn't seem to disturb it, tired from his "hard work" throughout the week. Golden sun rays streamed through the crystal stained glass windows and slowly crept across the stone floors, reaching the marble walls, irritating the sleepy portraits on the walls that wanted a little more sleep. Figures turned away from the light and settled in their seats or simply lay down where it was comfortable, snoring and murmuring softly in their sleep.

Mora walked through the corridor on tiptoes, quieter than in the middle of the night, eating a sandwich she had made in the house-elf kitchen. She had prepared another one for Professor Sharp, although she wasn't entirely sure what he liked to eat, so she packed it full of cheese, beets, spinach, and warmed it slightly in the oven to melt the cheese nicely. Finally, she added a dash of balsamic vinegar and seasoned it with salt and pepper. In any case, she liked this combination of flavors; it was rustic food, simple and from her background.

She hastened, not entirely sure if she would make it to the meeting, and climbed the stairs with just a few strides. He was already waiting for her, sitting next to the fountain, covered with the soft veil of the morning light seeping through the round stained glass window, which he gazed at thoughtfully. Mora approached him, and the first thing she noticed was a small package resting on the stone edge of the fountain right beside him.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"Hm, good morning, right on time, Miss Dimm," he mumbled and handed her the package, in which a still-warm muffin with jam was safely hidden. "I thought you might be hungry and deprived of breakfast..." he added with a hint of irony in his voice, and, to his surprise, a packed sandwich suddenly appeared in his hand. He chuckled softly, as if ironically, not admitting that this small gesture from Mora meant a lot to him and added quite seriously, "Well, perhaps next time, I'll beat Sirona to it, and we'll have a proper breakfast before we start work, because I'm not sure what might result from our culinary extravagances, and whether we both end up at Madam Blainey's..." Mora chuckled. Aesop, every time he elicited that charming, frisky laughter from her that sometimes turned into the chortling of a cheerful piglet, he felt satisfaction equivalent to discovering a new potion, and his self-confidence was revived from the dead.

"Come," he ordered, focusing all his thoughts on maintaining a serious demeanor, and began to limp toward the entrance to the library. Mora caught up with him, looking at him expectantly, and Sharp placed his hand on the door and turned to her before opening it. "Use the Disillusionment Charm and wait by the entrance to the Restricted Section. I overheard that the Old Buzzard complained to the headmaster recently that Sebastian Sallow broke in there not too long ago with someone, and the poor thing had to change the lock at her own expense. She won't let me in willingly because, you see, we don't necessarily get along..." His voice became a conspiratorial whisper, exciting Mora.

"The key should be on her desk," she whispered, and Sharp shook his head.

"Well, it was... I've used it more than once, but I've always been lucky enough to put it back in its place before Owl could realize it was missing. Mr. Sallow and his companion, unfortunately, were caught, and the whole thing went south. Now, she keeps it in the right pocket of her jacket, new key is resistant to spells... I checked."

Mora couldn't imagine how long Sharp had to spy on the librarian from hiding to gather all this information. She looked at him with pure admiration, and her eyes, fixed on him, made him uneasy. "Off you go," he ordered. Mora immediately hid under the Disillusionment Charm and slipped unnoticed between the rows of shelves, taking her position at the entrance to the Restricted Section. In the meantime, Sharp moved quickly towards one of the bookshelves and began to examine its contents. He listened for the sound of Mrs. Scribner's heels hitting the floor and slowly moved in that direction. Finally, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that she was collecting the books left by the students from one of the tables and was coming in his direction, carrying a stack of manuscripts. Discreetly, he waved his wand toward the floor.

"Glacius," he muttered under his breath and immediately concealed his wand. Scribner was getting closer, and every step she took caused a broader smile to appear on Sharp's face as he stood with his back to her, engrossed in his reading.

"OI, MERLIN!..." she shouted when her legs suddenly slipped, her body lost balance, and the books crashed to the floor with a loud noise. Suddenly, Aesop appeared next to her, gallantly preventing her from falling, as if she weighed nothing at all, and helped her to stand on her own.

„Don't want to strain yourself with all these books, do you, Professor?" he hissed through clenched teeth, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm. The woman snorted at him and dusted invisible specks from her clothing. Then she adjusted her glasses and, with a flick of her wand, made the books float behind her in the air. Sharp waited until she disappeared behind the shelves and quickly moved toward Mora. He took a golden key from his sleeve and slyly handed it to her.

"Your turn, Mora," he pointed to the entrance, feeling a thrill of excitement deep inside. His companion also seemed to be in her element, and after a few seconds, she hurried down the library stairs and searched for the right book. Aesop found a place for himself at a square table, opposite the centaur tapestries, and settled comfortably in his chair. "If any book tries to bite your hand off, stroke its back," he casually tossed toward Mora and breathed a sigh of satisfaction that their mission to break into the Restricted Section had gone smoothly. Then he summoned the Daily Prophet from his pocket and immersed himself in reading. Occasionally, he glanced at Mora, who diligently searched the shelves for information on Acromantulas; he liked how dedicated she was to her work and didn't settle for the first piece of information she found. Diligence and conscientiousness were qualities he highly valued in others, and, until he met Mora, he considered them as dying out. Their eyes met, and Mora sent him a warm smile, pleased with his company. It was a funny sight - he sat completely relaxed, reading the latest news amidst strange artifacts, stuffed creatures, and tools that made her uncomfortable. Whenever one of the chained books began to struggle more or emit groans, Sharp silenced it with a glare and a short, menacing sentence uttered through clenched teeth: "Shhh, my companion is working. you'd better not disturb her," then there was complete silence, in which Sharp's satisfied "hmm" resounded along with the rustling of turned pages from the Daily Prophet. Mora hadn't felt so comfortable with anyone in a long time. Not with Sebastian, not with Ominis, to whom she secretly had crush on, not even with her best friends Poppy and Sirona... It was a strange feeling... Sharp snorted after reading something that had annoyed him.

"Chief Constable Vincent Fromm" he began reading aloud, thinking that Mora might also be interested in this news. The woman placed a stack of selected books on the table and sat down in a nearby armchair, listening to what the article might be about. "The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the right hand of the Minister of Magic, Faris Spavin, assures that the recent threat from the leader of the rebellious goblin group, Ranrok, has been continuously monitored by an elite group of aurors. Thanks to the swift action of Hogwarts Director Phineas Nigellus Black, they were destroyed in the bud. 'The safety of students has always been, is, and will be our priority,' said V. Fromm in an interview. 'Goblins have never posed a threat to them, and parents, as well as teachers, can sleep peacefully, knowing that the children are well cared for. All the rebels have been captured and sentenced to death, setting an example for anyone who dares to interfere in wizardkind's affairs. Goblins must understand that everything has its limits.' The Ministry of Magic appeals to parents not to be afraid to send their children to the School of Magic and Wizardry. What do you think about this, Mora?"

Morana closed her mouth, which had opened involuntarily in disbelief as Sharp read the article. "It sounds a bit like... a threat. After all, not all goblins served Ranrok willingly..." Mora began to look around the room, panic setting in as she tried to collect her thoughts, and she looked at Sharp, seeking reassurance. His eyes darkened, and she knew what he wanted to tell her. "And so, without investigation, they were... murdered?"

Sharp hung his head. "Vincent Fromm is one of those aurors who started working with me and quickly climbed the ranks. He holds somewhat radical views and is friends with Headmaster Black. Times are changing, and many high-ranking individuals still hold rather primitive worldviews. Regardless of whether a wizard is rich or poor, less educated or more, there's a passionate aversion to goblins and Muggles among many of us... like a stack of dry wood, just waiting for a spark to set them on fire mindlessly, consuming everything around. My father would undoubtedly rush to the front lines if there were ever a war between wizards and Muggles, even in his pajamas and slippers..."

He joked, though it was more of a laugh through tears than a joyful reaction.

"Hmm..." Mora pondered and unknowingly placed her hand on Sharp's forearm, which elicited a pleasant warmth in his heart. "I've spent my entire life among Muggles, and honestly, apart from a few conveniences that wands provide, I don't see much of a difference. Both Muggles and wizards can be rich, poor, educated, or more focused on mundane work...” Aesop fell deep in thought, listening to her, nodding, and humming in agreement with her words. „I've heard that 'Muggles can't see,' that 'they would be aggressive toward what's foreign to them,' but... how can Muggles see when wizards keep hiding from them? How can they not be afraid when they lack the necessary knowledge? And wizards? Do they see more than 'the foreign' in goblins and other magical creatures? Do they want to learn their customs, magic? Are they welcoming, or do they sharpen their pitchforks, like my guardians?" Mora laughed lightly. "The Dimm family is very kind, they care about me, but Professor Fig, standing on their doorstep, had a bit of that attitude. He cared about me, but didn't necessarily want to understand Lyra and Marcus... If you had come after me back then, you definitely wouldn't have ended up with pitchforks in my backside, sir."

Sharp chuckled and unconsciously brushed his cold fingers against Mora's hand.

"That's a bold statement, Miss Dimm. First, if I'd gone on foot, I'd probably still be on the way. Second, the scar on my face and the expression I usually wear would have been precisely the reason why I'd end up like an olive on a cocktail stick."

Mora burst into laughter, and though Aesop wished this moment would last much longer, it was time to focus on their duties.

"What did you find, Dimm?" he asked, resting his head on his hand.

"Hmm, pretty much what I already knew," she sighed, scanning the old pages. "Acromantulas were bred by wizards, created for their purposes, mainly to serve them. They can be very intelligent, communicate, form well-functioning colonies, protect their young, and... OH..."

The "OH" that escaped her mouth was the sound of her realization, something she hadn't seen before. The sound Sharp had been waiting for.

"You have a lot of empathy, Mora," he began quietly to break the silence, his voice soft like velvet. "For strangers, friends... for me... But you lack it toward your enemies, and sometimes that's the only thing that separates us, wizards, from dark wizards."

"I never thought I was an intruder to them, a threat... Are there... any other ways to obtain spider venom? Ways to deal with them?"

"Well, you'll likely find everything in those books; you have a lot of reading ahead. Of course, I'll encourage you to use potions as often as possible, which will allow you to become invisible to the senses of Acromantulas and generally make your life easier with many less docile magical creatures. You don't have to throw away several tons of chomping cabbage, which you probably have an illegal plantation of somewhere, hopefully not at school..."

Aesop got up, wincing slightly from the pain in his injured leg, and watched as Morana quickly transcribed a list of rather complicated elixirs that could be useful.

"Class is dismissed," he declared. "You'll find the recipes for most of what you've written down in the textbook; please read when and how to use everything. And when you find something that suits you, you'll find me in the classroom. I'll help you prepare everything. It's time to go back."

Both of them casted the Disillusionment Charm on themselves and closed the door to the Restricted Section behind them. Aesop took the key from Morana's hands and began looking for the librarian. "She's over there," he whispered. Morana could only see the floating key in the air, but she knew that Sharp was trying to figure out how to return it to Scribner without arousing suspicion. The woman circled the library, peering into every corner; she knew that the key had disappeared. Placing it on the desk would suggest a break-in into the Restricted Section. They had to come up with something else.

"Expecto Patronum!" Aesop's melodic voice trembled in the air, and a beam of light shot from his wand, creating a silvery Niffler. He grabbed the key and galloped ahead as fast as his short legs and chubby belly allowed.

"OI! NIFFLER! COME HERE YOU LITTLE THIEF! HELP!" Scribner shouted and raced after the Patronus.

"Time to go," Aesop declared.

A few minutes later, they were both enjoying the lunch they had prepared in the deserted courtyard. Potions Master ate his sandwich with relish, practically finishing it in one bite, and admitted that he probably wouldn't end up in the Hospital Wing after eating it. Mora savored her cupcake, wanting to enjoy it a little longer.

"Why a Niffler, sir?" she asked unexpectedly.

"Hmm?"

"Your Patronus, sir, why a Niffler?"

"Oh, well," Aesop swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. With a gentle motion, he wiped a smear of jam from Mora's cheek and handed her a piece of fabric in case she needed it to wipe her lips, now tinted purple from the blueberry jam. Leaning against a tree and shifting some of the weight off his injured leg, Aesop continued. "The Niffler was involved in my first investigation. Shortly after my parents' divorce, I lived with my Mummy in the Highlands, not far from here. One day, her earrings, a gift from my grandmother Sapho, went missing. So, I decided to take action. Like any auror, I put on my best pajamas, attached a leaf with a safety pin on which I scribbled 'Aro,' took a stick because I had known that I needed a wand, and of course, a small bottle of juice in case I had to heal myself because I'd heard that's what my dad did at work. Then, I set off, following the Niffler's tracks until I found its stash and my mother's lost earrings."

"Wait a minute, how old were you then?" Mora caught herself, having left out the "sir," but Aesop didn't seem to notice and replied with a warm smile,

"Around five... Hmm... I think Mummy even took a picture of me; she was incredibly proud."

"SHARP!" the director's voice cut through Morana's warm laughter, who immediately fell silent and serious. Black approached them, and the same unpleasant grimace painted his face as always. "Good day, Director," they both said almost simultaneously, exchanging meaningful glances.

"I see you've already started working; good. I don't want the same kind of trouble I had with Fig!... But that's not the point," Black cleared his throat to gather his thoughts and after a moment of contemplation, he mumbled through gritted teeth. "I have a problem with a portrait in my office, Mr. Sharp."

"A portrait, Professor?" Sharp inquired, entirely seriously.

"It's the portrait of the former headmistress; she's been bothering me for three days now... I already have enough trouble teaching in place of Professor Fig, and she's been nagging me incessantly with riddles about 'bringing Professor Aesop Sharp' to, I quote: 'the place Miss Dimm knows.' You better handle it!" The director turned on his heel and continued his daily walk around the school, glaring at the students.

"I hope you know what place she's referring to?" Sharp asked, concerned.

"Yes, that's where I met the Keepers." Sharp didn't seem very pleased with that answer.

"Keepers, huh..." he mumbled, unable to hide his reluctance toward those who had put Mora in danger. "Lead the way; we wouldn't want the headmaster to get migraines because of us.”

Bloody stairs, he thought as he descended the steep, winding steps, following Morana, who illuminated the way with her wand. He could have easily followed the scent of her perfume, which drifted behind her in the air. The distinctive, sweet scent of herbs, which she probably had stuffed in her pockets, reminded him of the interior of Honeydukes and the candies for a sore throat, which he suddenly remembered and made a mental note to buy later. His joy at the sight of the round hall with columns filled with pale light didn't last long, and more stairs awaited him. He needed to take a moment to rest and drink a vial of Wiggenweld Potion because the pain in his knee was excruciating. He knew he had to ask Morana for help. In her eyes, he could see her eagerness to assist, but she took his words to heart and waited for his decision. Panic set in. Morana was a petite woman, and he was a big man. He felt that he should be helping her down the steep stairs, not the other way around.

"Miss Dimm, well... uh..." He cleared his throat, struggling to find the words. "Mora, could you..."

He extended his hand toward her and turned his head away in embarrassment. Her small hand grasped his fingers, and his arm suddenly rested on her delicate shoulders. She was surprisingly strong, much stronger than he had expected. Their movements were out of sync. Sharp had been nervous about it at first, but seeing Morana's wide smile, finding amusement in their stumbling descent, he felt relief. He even playfully leaned on her once, causing her to erupt in laughter, a cascade of giggles, the grunting of a happy little piglet, and bird-like sounds, which charmed him immensely. It was the most charming, terrible laughter he had ever heard, and he promised himself to elevate his rather dry sense of humor inherited from his father to hear her joy more often.

"Please... Please stop... or I'm going to pee myself," she said through tears of laughter as they stumbled down the last step.

"Thank you," Sharp whispered, setting her free from the weight of his arm, and Morana wiped away her tears, leading him further down the corridor. She still carried the scent of his clothes, which was a strange yet not unpleasant sensation. The boys her age she sometimes danced with at the fairs didn't particularly smell like anything special, or she didn't pay much attention to it. The same went for Sebastian and Ominis. Mr. Dimm usually smelled like the sweet beer he brewed or the perfumes that reminded her of the church-going grandfathers. Aesop Sharp, on the other hand, smelled stylish, elegant, and... intriguing. She resisted the temptation to examine the individual ingredients of his cologne by putting her nose to her sleeve, but her senses were tickled with oriental notes, predominantly sandalwood. It was a surprisingly pleasant blend, and even though she wasn't 'of age" only on paper, she was somewhat afraid of "adult" men. They weren't attractive to her; their facial hair felt prickly and unpleasant, their touch was rough, their voices too low, and their cologne irritating. She secretly glanced at Sharp and concluded that he was an exception to those rules. Everything about him was good, pleasant, and delicate.

"I don't know what they might want," she confessed, her voice trembling. "I was sure that if I completed the tasks, they'd stay in their portraits, and that would be it."

"They're more interested in me," Sharp said. "Maybe they have some trials prepared for me as well? Maybe tests are tailored to the person who has to perform them, so you had to fight golems, magical creatures, and ancient magic, while I'll have to deal with sorrel soup, stairs, and Professor Binns' lecture... I might as well hand in my wand right away and start growing carrots..."

Mora smiled lightly, but her mind was focused on the unknown that awaited them behind the ornate doors. Sharp gently patted her forearm to reassure her. He pushed the door open and let her enter first. Mora was accustomed to the sight of the hall, which didn't necessarily bring back pleasant memories, but she was happy that Sharp was fascinated by everything. He touched the decorations and examined the shimmering map under his feet. Four tall frames, once empty, now held the portraits of the four Keepers. Sharp felt a sense of unease, and though the painted figures didn't pose any real threat, he instinctively motioned for Morana to stay close. The figures whispered among themselves, observing him closely.

"He limps?" he caught from the barely audible sentences, and he frowned with annoyance.

"Professor Fitzgerald, Professor Rookwood, Professor Rackham, Professor Bakar," Morana greeted them one by one. Sharp silently acknowledged them with a slight nod of his head. "You asked me to introduce to you Professor Sharp."

"Yes," Professor Rackham spoke up. "We wanted to get to know the mentor of our young ward and ensure that her further education is in... capable hands. Professor Fig was irreplaceable, and we were saddened to hear about his passing. We hope that his successor will have an equally rich background, despite his young age..."

Sharp wasn't entirely sure if being called "young" was a compliment or quite the opposite.

He cleared his throat and spoke up, "First, I'd like to clarify that I am not Miss Dimm's 'mentor,' but rather a colleague, a partner. I graduated from Hogwarts with honors, and I have over fifteen years of experience working as an Auror. My specialization was the examination of dark magical artifacts, potions, and intelligence. I've been involved in over six hundred successful investigations, personally leading four hundred and fifty-two of them... I can assure you that Miss Dimm's safety is my top priority, far above any attempt to guide her future according to anyone else's wishes. Is that clear?" He spoke in a calm but firm tone, and his words echoed in the room, filling it with an eerie silence.

"Are you threatening us, Mr. Sharp?" Professor San Bakar asked, to which Sharp shook his head.

"I'm just informing you. As a Hogwarts teacher, I am fully responsible for the lives and well-being of my students, no matter the situation. Students are here to learn, foster friendships, cultivate interests, and explore the world, while any other matters are handled by my fellow professors and me."

Mora stared at him, not sure what to do. She felt a mix of embarrassment and the realization that he was undermining their authority, but at the same time, he was doing it out of genuine concern for her. For the first time in a long while, she didn't feel important to someone just because she possessed extraordinary power. She felt important because she was just Morana Dimm.

The Keepers dared not question what Sharp had said.

"Well, I think we have nothing more to add," Rackham began after a long pause, and the others exchanged glances. "If the need arises, we will be in touch with you, Mr. Sharp."

"Good." Sharp nodded. They understood his message very well. They were to stay away from Morana.

He inclined his head, signaling that the conversation was over. Mora followed in his footsteps as he headed toward the exit.

"They could have sent a bloody owl," he grumbled under his breath.

"You're very brave," Mora whispered, helping him up the stairs.

Aesop snorted with irritation at the reunion with the old professors.

"Nonsense, they are made of paint not flesh and blood. I've learned the story of Isidora. Fig wrote a brief account of it to Matilda, and she shared it with me. These are just old people who couldn't cope with their failure. They couldn't admit that their ignorance had led to a tragedy, so they swept it all under the rug... Quite fucking literally," he said, realizing that he should tone down the profanity that had been flowing from his mouth today. He immediately apologized to Morana.

In the meantime, Mora discreetly pulled his body closer to hers, almost embracing him. While they climbed stairs, she listened in silence to his silly grumbling and groaning leaving his mouth presumably just to lift her spirits. And it worked.

End of part 5, thanks for reading!

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