#why only 7 students per class?

[mitsies]

❊ miss americana & the heartbreak prince - itoshi sae . . from one formal to the next, everything works out one way or another

your first junior high dance is in the company of your best friend, itoshi sae.

you had to try hard to convince him to go. really, really try to convince him. and you had to get his mom in on it, too, that's how hard you had to try. he was content to stay at home in those stupid little red basketball shorts that he either 1), never washed or 2), had 7 pairs of, binging sports highlights and discussing things you don't care all that much about on the couch.

but this night was special, you'd insisted. it was the very first dance of the very first year as official junior high students. you were both 11, practically ancient, and how boring would it be to stay home when there were adventures to be had? and besides, you had a plan. tonight, you were going to tell your best friend since diapers that you had a super-uber-mega crush on him, and maybe give him a hug after (if you were feeling bold.)

you have it all planned out. after finally managing to convince him to come to the dance with you, you'll steal him away from your friend group and take him to the hallway next to your maths class, where no one ever goes. and then, you'd tell him about how mieko told you that mai told her that akane told her that keiko told her that she thinks he likes you back, and then you'd ask if it was true. and then he'd say, 'oh my gosh, yes, i love you,' and then high-five you, and then you'd be boyfriend and girlfriend. because that's how it works, right?

well, you made it halfway-ish. and to say that is just to say you managed to force him to the dance and sneak him off into the side hallway. oh, he looks cute. he's shorter than you but that's fine because he'll get taller before you guys get married. and his hair is gel-slicked and looks kind of silly, and you know it's his mom's doing. his suit is frumpy and ill-fitting and he's wearing cleats instead of dress shoes because that's just how junior high boys are.

he's been grumpy all day, as per usual. but you keep catching him staring at you. and he keeps doing that little tiny smile-ish thing that he does, where he smiles a little but not a lot so he just looks constipated instead. and oh, you're in bad luck, because as soon as you're in that maths hallway and the music from the dance goes muffled and it's just him, and it's just you, you seem to forget everything you've planned to say.

"what did you want to tell me?" uh-oh. uh-oh, this is bad. oh, it's so bad. your best friend since diapers, your future husband, the one person you could never get sick of, was going to think you were an absolute idiot. how embarrassing! how embarrassing, oh no.

"uh," you can't meet his eyes, and choose to fiddle with your fingers instead, pulling at your sloppily painted nails (green to match his eyes, like asami had insisted), "well— um, i actually— i just— to.. um."

wow, this was lame. you're 11 now, where is your class? where is your wisdom? oh, how humiliating. "i just—"

"you like me."

you pause. you stare. he stares back, and his expression goes from that same old neutral to that silly little stupid kinda-smile. and then, panic sets in.

"oh, haha! i do? who told you that? who? no seriously, who? or, or, what made you think that? why do you think that? i— i don't like— or, well, i don't not— no, stop, stop, actually. who told you? was it akane? oh, i knew akane was a snitch! ignore her. ignore this. i mean, unless you— but. hey, it's—"

"so you do, or don't?"

this was sae. this was itoshi sae, and this was how he's always been. no-nonsense, straight-froward, abrasive, blunt. all hard around the edges but so, so soft at the center like those really good cookies they sell at the cafeteria. only for you, usually, and his baby brother, and that was pretty much is.

sometimes you forget just how much you like him. it's a lot, you like him a lot. so, so much. he's the same boy who meets you on the side of the curb when you call him crying from the home phone, because your parents are angry again. he's the boy who will spend forever with you working on your maths homework when you're having a hard time understanding. he's the boy who will split a cafe cookie with you after he sees you in the stands of one of his games. oh, he's that boy. he's the boy you super-mega-ultra liked, and maybe-kinda-sorta loved a little teensy tiny bit. you exhale.

"i do."

your voice is small. your hands twist together anxiously and you can't do anything but stare at the floor. and in your peripheral vision, you see little red cleats take a hesitant step closer, and closer, and then— a hand lands on top of yours.

oh, it's sae's. oh, he's holding your hand.

well, not really. but it's close enough, and you look up and his cheeks are rosy and he looks like an angel, oh lord, he's so cute you might be sick. all he says is, "good. me too, or something."

the very first middle school dance of the year is where itoshi sae stops being just your best friend, and becomes your boyfriend. and that word changes meaning over time— years go by. somewhere in that mess, there's a tentative kiss, and a whole lot of 'i love you's' and a dozen more firsts, all with each other, all with a world of love. awkward pre-teens go to teenagers. how lucky you are, that mieko told you that mai told her that akane told her that keiko told her that she thinks he likes you back. because she was right after all.

it's your boyfriend who asks you to prom. and you’re mad at him, but you say yes anyways.

it’s the first time you’ve seen him in weeks. prom night is the same night he flies back in from spain for the holidays, and coincidentally, the first time he’s talked to you for more than 20 minutes. you pick him up from the airport in your dress, and he’s in his suit. you’ve already missed your dinner reservations— you’re trying not to care. but this was your senior year. and you were so, so excited. the restaurant was his favourite kind of food, and it was in an aquarium, and reservations were hard to get, and he had caused you to miss them because his flight was delayed.

you know it's selfish. you know, because how could you not know? how was it his fault that the weather in spain was so poor that he was forced to wait at the airport longer than expected? how was it his fault that it just so happened to rain? but the evil, burning, and bitter side of your heart replies: it's his fault he was gone in the first place. it's his fault he was in spain and not by your side, to begin with.

normal 18-year-old couples don't have to take a 16-hour flight just to see each other, your anger says. and you know it's right.

when itoshi sae, at 13, told you he was going to be a star, you hardly believed him. actually, you recall your own incredulous laugh, and that cute way the space at the corner of his eyes wrinkle when he's annoyed. you didn't believe him, but then less than a year later he was gone to spain hellbent on becoming the best.

he used to call you every night for hours. as often as he could, he'd call or text. and he'd talk to you in the way that he only talked to you. with a softness. with a tender kind of love. the infinite kind. and whenever he got the chance to fly back, he would, to spend time with you and rin and his parents, but mostly you (as he'd tell you after he made you swear not to snitch). he used to love you, and act like it.

but as years blurred past, and he got taller (not by much) and you both grew older (not by a lot), things shifted. changed. spun in a circle and landed facing the opposite direction. he called you less. sometimes, when you called him, he'd not pick up even though you knew he was free. and he visited less, and he stopped talking to rin but wouldn't say why. sometimes when you'd visit his mother, you'd see rin stealing glances at you from the curves and corners of the house. he stopped saying hi to you a while ago, too.

you drive to your senior prom in near silence. there's some music playing on the radio— nothing either of you had put on, just the default top hits of 2017— and no one says anything and you think that might be better. because you're thinking about the way he used to buy him and his little brother ice cream on really hot days with his very own pocket money, and you think if you hear his voice you might start ugly crying and ruin your makeup. and then you think about how it's your senior prom, and you're about to cry, and your boyfriend can't even look at you, and oh, you're holding back tears all over again.

the first thing he says to you that night is, "i was about to do that," when you open the car door by yourself. you are so, so angry. but you just smile like you're not, because it's not his fault you resent his leaving. it's not his fault you miss his mom and brother but can't visit anymore without it being awkward. it's not his fault he's gone, and it's not his fault he acts like he hates you. it's not his fault but you despise him so, so much.

he puts a hand on your waist as he walks you towards the venue— some stupid country club kind of thing, you didn't care enough to read anything but the address. his touch feels wrong— it didn't always. but these hands are rough, and you don't recognise them. you stop walking.

all around you, everyone keeps moving. there are girls in frills and pretty, glittery, long dresses. suits and ties, and the smell of cologne, and the floral perfume. it's dark out, now. and the people aren't walking into the building— they're leaving. you catch someone's watch out of the corner of your eye. you've missed your senior prom.

"what's wrong?" sae's voice hardly registers. you feel the tears fall.

"we missed it."

"hm?"

you turn to him. he looks like he couldn't care less. and you abhor him.

"we missed the dance."

sae blinks. his eyes are blank— maybe they've always been. maybe when you were 11, you were too dumb to see. maybe he's always hated you, you think, because he replies, "oh. back to the car?"

and you're really crying now, because he doesn't even care.

you can't manage words, not until he speaks for you. "don't cry. it was just some stupid school dance."

you wonder what this looks like to people. a boy, looking like he couldn't care less. and you, makeup streaked with tears, like your world just collapsed.

"did you really care that much?"

"did i care?" your voice comes out mangled, "did i care?"

he looks startled at your reaction, the most emotion he's shown tonight. you continue:

"of course i cared that much. of course i did. because how long ago was our last date? the last time we did anything together? the last time you could look me in the eyes? of course i care. not about this stupid dance," you're out of breath, but you continue, "i care about you. you, i care about you."

he looks the same amount of placid, and the same amount of blank. and you'd cry harder if it didn't hurt so bad. he says nothing so all there's left to ask is, "but do you even care about me? do you care anymore?"

his face betrays nothing. and you're taken back to juvenile days, and ice cream and sun, and soccer practice after school, and annoying little brothers and love notes in lockers. and you think that this is not the same boy you loved. and you don't know where that boy went, but he's not here, he's not the one standing in front of you staring instead of holding you while you cry.

and he doesn't look the least bit sorry.

you knew the answer to his question before it even came out of your mouth. maybe you've known for years. maybe you just had blind faith in him, and your aquarium-restaurant reservations, and a stupid, cheesy, lame high school dance that you couldn't care less about to prove that there was still a tiny bit of hope. but it'd just shown you that there was nothing left.

you feel like a set of bones beneath a dress. you feel like a ghost in a crowd of people. you feel like a spectacle, you feel insane. you must look it, too. maybe you are. there is a coldness to sae's voice when he finally speaks. a coldness that is new. that you haven't heard before. you're scared.

"are you done yet?"

you're not crying anymore. you're just feeling strange.

you hate how you care about how sae's going to get home when you leave him standing there and walk back to your car. your shoes— bought just for today— tap on the pavement. the shoes and your heartbeat. your car's engine. the doors slamming shut. people laughing outside. the radio's top hits of 2017. that's all you hear, that's all. and when you get home and turn your car off, you sit in the driver's seat and cry.

you can hear all your thoughts. you can hear the ugly desperate cries clawing your throat raw like an animal. mascara-stained teardrops land on your dress and trickle down your chin, and burn your eyes. you don't know when you lost him. was it when he'd first went to spain? was it when he'd first cancelled a visit back, or hung up the phone? or was it before then? has he ever liked you, or did he only hold your hand back at that middle school dance because he felt like he had to? and your tears taste like melted ice cream and memories, or maybe you're just crazy.

you loved him. did he ever love you?

angry tears. sad ones, too. your hands need to destroy something so they pull and clench and squeeze your legs through the fabric of your dress as you dry-heave. the ache is not empty. it hurts, it burns. your lungs burn. your heart is heavy and hot and disgusting. how you feel is wrong. everything feels wrong.

everything feels wrong, and now you're single on prom night.

what's even left for you, now?

being 21 is weird.

you're all grown up, now. you've got friends, and you have just recently landed a job at a big journalism company while you wrap up university. and today's your first day going out to a company event instead of sitting at a desk all day, and you're so excited.

the event is some kind of gala. you've been told it's to celebrate the opening of a new sports thing that your employers have invested in that you don't really know too much about. and it's not quite your specialty but you'd never miss out on an opportunity to dress up and get a free fancy dinner as a representative for your company, who were big investors. you wonder who'll be there. who are some sports people? actually, what kind of a stadium was this? a baseball field? is that even a stadium?

why were you even invited? you don't have the slightest clue about this investment. but that doesn't matter, because you're there now, stepping out of your company car in a pretty dress that you'd chosen for yourself. you wonder when the last time you've been this dressed up was. maybe your cousin's wedding, when you were 17? or, you think with a twinge of something bitter in your chest, was it your senior prom at 18?

whatever. it doesn't matter. you don't care about that anymore— it was only the night your boyfriend of 7 years essentially told you he didn't love you anymore. no big deal. you were 21 now, and you could do cool things and work, and stuff. how cool is that? how cool are you? too cool to be still caring about your ex-boyfriend. your very handsome, attractive, professional football player ex-boyfriend, who was on the cover of every sports magazine, and the headline of every news channel. you wonder, as you walk in, how many of the people under the roof of the venue know his name. how many who'd probably kill for a signature. you wonder what they'd think if they knew you used to be the one to love him.

pause. why were you thinking about this? you don't care, you definitely don't. you're done caring when he's probably already forgotten your name. god, you're supposed to be 21. you're 21, and you still feel like you're 18. you're 21, and you still feel like you're 11. at what point are you meant to grow up and get over it all?

you shake your head and your older colleague ms. sato gives you an amused look. "something wrong, dear?"

"nothing," you smile at her awkwardly, "just a little nervous. i've never been out on a company event before. who else is going to be here?"

ms. sato tsks and thrums her fingers against the wrinkled skin of her other hand. she's wearing a conservative green velvet dress. you think she looks pretty. "i think more sponsors will be there. and i'm sure they've got some sports folk, too."

you purse your lips. the venue is big, and ornate, you see as you open the door for ms. sato and walk in behind her. red and gold walls, chandeliers, a regal display of wealth that you most definitely could not live up to if you were here on your own dime. and the dining hall is no different. tables with nameplates written in some fancy scrawl that you can barely read spell out your name and ms. sato's name across from each other towards the front of the hall. out of curiosity, your eyes flicker to the seat to your right.

and your heart stops in its chest.

in that same hardly legible font, reads a name that is all too familiar. it's nearly the same as the name you'd scrawled on love letters in junior high, and nearly the same name as the contact you used to text every single day and every night. it's nearly the same name you'd call out at airports, looking, always looking, forever longing to be around him. the name on the nameplate reads 'itoshi rin.'

"are you sure nothing's wrong? you look pale." ms. sato's voice cuts through your thoughts, you clear your throat. "of course. it's nothing, ms. sato."

you pull her chair out for her before taking a seat in your own, as the room starts filling in and someone says something about a prepared meal being served at 8 on the dot, and announcements starting soon after that. you feel frozen in your seat as you fidget with your hands in your lap. you're paralysed with fear, too scared to check if the name next to rin's is sae's. it couldn't be, right? because they fell out. just like you and sae fell out. they wouldn't attend the same event. plus, sae's always thought that events were boring. fancy dances, fancy dinners, they were all the same— all wastes of time. he wouldn't be here.

it hits 8. you think you could maybe handle rin— but he doesn't show. dinner is served, and the two seats to your right remain empty. and you are so, so relieved internally because who are you kidding, you couldn't deal with rin, let alone sae.

you see his face everywhere, and that's enough. magazines, underwear ads, video edits, all of it. his fans are everywhere. like he's some kind of hero, and you guess he is when it comes to football. you wonder who he's kissed since you. unless what was a weird thing to think about your exes. in that case, you don't wonder that at all. and you never have, not for a second.

it's 8:05. still, no one has shown. at 8:10, the owners of the stadium give some speech about investments, and blah blah blah, are you meant to know or care about any of this? because you don't know, and you don't really care. you're much too focused on the food, and the stress, and all that. 8:20, speech is over. 8:30, people start socialising. 8:35, drinks are brought out with a second course. 8:40, with a little champagne in your system, you're feeling pretty good, actually. less nervous, for sure. if rin hasn't shown yet, he isn't going to. and sae? that was basically fully off the table now.

8:45. you feel better than fine, now. 4 champagne flutes down (because ms. sato doesn't drink, but felt bad saying no when they were offered, and she thinks you'd be a funny drunk) and you wonder why you've ever felt nervous in your life, ever. stress was a thing of the past. ms. sato laughs at you when you make a face at something someone annoying and snotty says, and she slaps your back and tells you she's going to the restroom and to make sure you don't die while she's gone.

8:50. the door to the banquet hall must've opened at some point, but you didn't notice until the chair to your right slides out. your heart sinks before you even see him. because itoshi rin, in the flesh, takes the chair next to you.

you haven't seen him in years. not since your 18th birthday, you think— because his mother had made you a cake and forced him to tag along to drop it off for you. he'd told you happy birthday, and you'd teased him about how you remember he used to have big cheesy smiles and bigger cheesier dimples when he was just a little baby, and he'd scowled and told you that he's 15, not some kid. how old was he now? if sae was 21, then rin would be 18. you've seen him places too, on advertisements for some football program, on sellouts for cologne and such. he's made a name for himself. for himself, not his brother and himself. you'd find it in yourself to be proud if you weren't a little drunk and a lot sad.

maybe he catches you staring from the corner of your eye after he sits, because he glances over and does a double take before looking straight ahead like he's in the army and his commanding sergeant's just told him to look alive. you worry at your lip with your teeth. you'll regret this in the morning. "rin? 's that you?"

he stiffens. you try not to giggle, and you think you fail. "yeah."

"i hope this isn't weird. do you remember me?" it's more of a question to yourself than anything. but he answers, because it was said out loud so he probably thought you were talking to him and not to your own brain. hm. maybe you're drunker than you thought.

"yeah." his response is terse and awkward. but then he says your name. and you remember his little voice a hundred times higher, and you remember tears in his big toddler eyes webbing his lashes as he cried your name about a scraped knee. you soften. "i've missed seeing you. how've you been?"

he looks nervous. does he look nervous? or do you just think he looks nervous? he opens his mouth, then closes it, then replies, "good. i didn't know you'd be here."

you smile amicably. oh, you love this boy, love him like he's your sweet little brother even now. "i'm representing my company. they— or, we— are investors. i'm here as my mentor's rubbish bin for food and drinks she doesn't want, basically."

rin snorts. you want to pinch his cheeks. would he be mad if you did? probably. "well, i—"

the seat next to rin's slides out. another full champagne flute is placed in front of you and instead of thanking the waiter, you feel sick to your stomach. junior high dance sick. senior year prom sick. you're sick.

itoshi sae sits one seat away from you.

you're sick, to your stomach. you're silent and stiff and stupid, so stupid, because you thought you were over him. but this is the first time you've seen him in person since the year 2017, when he flew out to be your date to your school's prom, and then flew away that same night and never came back. you down the champagne and close your eyes. you're 21, not 18, not 11, you're 21.

you're 21 and itoshi sae's still got you acting like a fool.

the rest of the dinner is awkward and silent, at least for you. ms. sato shows up and strikes up a conversation with anyone who would listen, and rin listens, and you can't look at sae so you don't know what he's doing. but you can imagine him sitting there, bored. why was he there? rin and him don't talk anymore. or do they? it's been years, after all. you guess they've made up. your stomach churns. ms. sato notices but doesn't say anything, not until after the dinner ends and you practically race out to the company car without another word to rin, just a quick, tight, smile. over his shoulder, before you leave, you see a mess of reddish-brown hair. you think you might be sick. you hope there are barf bags in the car.

"now, dear, what is wrong with you?" a patent red leather handbag slaps your lower back as you wait outside for the driver to show. ms. sato gives you a look.

you blink a few times. "did you just hit me? that hurt, i think."

"answer the question, child."

you wince. "the boy next to me was like, my, like, brother-in-law but not actually."

ms. sato raises a brow. "itoshi rin? the professional football player?"

you nod fervently. "yes. him."

"so.. you used to date itoshi sae?"

you look at her blankly. "how did you know?"

"they're famous, dear."

"oh," you wrinkle your nose, "right."

ms. sato chuckles. "well, we've got time to talk. tell me the story."

and you tell her. you tell her everything, and a little more. about ice cream, and your 18th birthday cake, and his mom, and his hands, and the way he used to love you and the way he just stopped one day. normally, you wouldn't run your mouth like this, you'd like to think. you're more refined. but the drinks you've had are working hard, and your emotions are working harder, and oh, you're a mess. at least you don't look like one tonight.

ms. sato listens patiently. or maybe she's just doing this to laugh at you about it later. but she listens either way. she smiles at some parts and frowns at others. but when you're done vomiting up all your words and all your feelings, she just sighs. "7 years is a long time."

you blink. "yeah. i guess so, yeah."

"and so is 18."

"excuse me?"

ms. sato chuckles. "you said you've known him since you were babies. it ended when you were 18. you said you loved him until you were 18."

"oh. i did. yeah."

"and 21 years is even longer."

now, you're really confused. "21?"

"21. because you've loved him since you were babies, and it never really ended."

oh. oh, okay. you don't know how you feel, not in the slightest. you're confused and you're nervous, and you shouldn't have eaten all that food because now you might actually throw up instead of just feeling like you're going to throw up.

and then someone calls your name from behind you.

the voice is familiar, and you turn without thinking, of instinct. because you'd always go to him, no matter what. and that scares you, and you're even more scared because you haven't seen eyes that blue in forever.

"sae." you try to keep your voice curt and calm. he's in a suit. it's a good one. tailored. and he still looks young, and handsome, and like your lips would fit perfectly against his, and like your hand could feel right holding his, and all that. and you're so, so scared.

ms. sato excuses herself in the background somewhere, and all this is eerily familiar. people in dresses and suits, leaving. cards driving away. your heartbeat in your ears. it's all familiar.

he takes a step closer. you take one back. he stops, stares, and says, "how've you been?"

you know him well. you know this man far, far too well. you recognise the clench of his jaw and the set of his brows. something like determination paints his face. you'd be more confused if you weren't so nauseous.

"good," you test your voice, continuing when you hear it hold steady, "i'm good. and you?"

he opens his mouth to reply. but you open your mouth again. because you can't seem to do anything but run your mouth today, it seems. "actually, i was hoping you wouldn't be here. really, really hoping. because," you laugh, "i did not want to see you today. or ever again, really."

sae's expression would be unreadable to anyone but you. but you can see it. he's hurt. and you laugh again because god, what does he have to be hurt about? you continue, "i was fine with just seeing the magazines, and ads with you half-naked, and all that. and i was fine with hating you for hating me. but now you're here and it's all different and wrong, and i'm so mad at you right now, and i was fine an hour ago before i even knew you were going to be here. i was so fine."

he blinks. "are you drunk?"

snorting laughter, you turn your head. you can't look at him. you can't tell how you're feeling anymore. "sure i am. the drinks were free."

his eye creases in a tiny smile and you'd swoon if he wasn't the same person who'd broken your heart after he'd held it in the palm of his hand.

you wonder what he's going to say. would he tell you you're being dramatic and making a scene? that one was likely. would he sue you?maybe. maybe he'd kick you. maybe you'd throw up on him. maybe he'd cry. you smile a little— you'd like that, actually. would be funny. you'd enjoy it.

"i'm sorry."

you must be making a face. you must look confused, or disgusted, or disgruntled, because he explains, "for vanishing."

itoshi sae apologising was not on your list of possible responses. you are at a loss for words. but you find them after a beat of silence, "you're sorry?"

he shifts uncomfortably. "i am."

scoffing, you roll your eyes. "funny."

"i'm serious." sae steps forward again. you don't back away. you can't, and he continues:

"i left you. and that was," he pauses and breathes, "the worst thing i've ever done. every day since then, i've missed you."

sae really hasn't changed, because that's all he says. so blunt, so forward, so harsh. never any room for detail, or explanation. never any time. you're silent so you think he might take that as a cue to keep going.

"i fixed things with rin, too," he says, "and i wish i could say it was out of the kindness of my heart but it was because you always told me i should. you've always made me better. and i—"

"you couldn't stand that." you're so angry. at him, for coming back and apologising like it was all a small deal. you're angry at ms. sato for getting you drunk. you're mad at yourself, for loving him so much even though it's a weak excuse of an apology. "oh, you couldn't stand that i was making you kinder, or better. you never wanted to be good. you've been horrible, always, probably."

and then you stop. "no. no, no, i'm sorry. i don't— i don't think that—"

"it's okay. however you feel about me.. it's okay. you can hate me. it's okay."

and your resolve crumbles.

"i could never hate you," you whisper, "because i love you so much. always have, for so many years and however many days, and i've loved you when you were good or bad or both, or neither, and i'm so mad at you because i never stopped, even when you hurt me. even then."

sae is silent. you are too. people move all around you. they're not listening, they have places to be. because you're 21, and they're all older too. and they have things to do.

"you still love me?"

he sounds quiet, almost. meek, maybe, if that was a thing that he was capable of being. you are doing your best to hold in tears.

"yeah," you say, "yeah, i do."

sae looks at you. "i've never stopped. i never could. i tried. but i never stopped loving you. and i've never been good at showing it, but it's the truth. and i'll be sorry forever, if you'll let me."

this is so unlike him. but people change, and you suppose you've been too separated to know anything as of late. your heart aches. his eyes are still the same. his voice is a little deeper. his shoulders look more broad. you think you're in love again. you think you never stopped being in love. you know it.

"so show me."

and sae kisses you. you hadn't forgotten how good a kisser he is but you think he's gotten better, as his hands find your back and yours take his jaw. maybe he's kissed other people since you. now you're mad again so you kiss him harder, and deeper, and you would usually have more decorum but it's sae and he's famous so if he doesn't care, why should you?

there is so much left unsaid. a hundred things. a million, maybe, a billion. he will spend his life making this up to you. you know he will. but for now, there's no hurt. for now, there is just love that has been cut off for far too long. for the first time in years, you're alive at this moment. you're 11, and 18, and 21, and you're everything that he's loved, and you're everything he's touched, and you are everything to him and you feel it. you deserve this. your blood runs hot, his tongue is in your mouth, you need this. and you love him. you love him to death.

this kiss is the summary of years waiting, and years longing. it's the summative point of ice cream and bike rides, and late night car rides and study dates, and running mascara and lonely nights. this kiss— it's been a long time coming.

flowers chosen: pink camellia & lilac . . longing & joy of youth

❊ send a request! ❊ 5k masterlist ❊ event info ❊

#blue lock x reader #itoshi sae x reader #bllk x reader #bllk sae #blue lock sae #blue lock #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #sae x reader #itoshi sae #reader insert #sorry if this is incorrect im not american LOL ik theyre in japan but i kno american school better than japanese system so!! #but im saying football and not soccer and i will die on this hill sorry. #mitsies 5k

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is his own warning in and of itself. Cussing, obsession, masterbation (m & f), p in v (alluded to), Dark!Coriolanus, Young Politician!Coriolanus, Secretary!Reader

This one got away from me so it's a bit long. Whoops...

You're at your desk, logging into your computer to start the day whenever the door to the office opens and in walks your boss. Senator Coriolanus Snow. One of the youngest Head Gamemakers and Senators in the history of Panem. He's only 24 years old and he's already so successful.

Crazy, right?

Your older brother was in the same graduating class as him at the Academy. Rein was a slacker that wasn't in the top 24 while Coryo- uh Coriolanus- was the top student, won the Plinth prize, and even did a short stint as a Peacekeeper to serve the greater good of the country (like his father General Crassus Snow did before him) before attending the University as a double major in Political Science and Military Strategies. Oh and while attending the University he interned under Dr. Gaul, became an Assistant Gamemaker, and even became the Head Gamemaker himself when Dr. Gaul died in a tragic lab accident involving her mutts.

And he did all of that by age 20.

Age 20!

After graduating from the Academy, Rein was shoved into the Peacekeepers by your father, retired Colonel Javanis Halvir. Your brother was sent to 8 and he complained in all of his letters about it. Once he was eligible to take the Officer's Aptitude Exam, your father had ordered him to sign up. So, Rein took the test and became an officer. He got assigned to PK Base D-12.

And that's what your older brother accomplished by 20. Oh and he also knocked up a local barmaid from the Hobb, causing your father to have a stroke. Your mother found it very comical.

And then both of your parents told you that you needed to redeem the family name, blah blah blah, and pushed you to be the top student in the Academy. So, of course you ended up in the top 24. And you mentored a tribute, a 17 year old boy from 7, that won. He was very proficient with an ax. You didn't have to do too much mentoring, he basically just hacked everybody to bits…

But you still won the Plinth Prize anyways. And during the ceremony for the prize, instead of Strabo Plinth handing you over the Plinth Prize it was his heir instead.

Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow.

After handing you the prize he had asked you to have a glass of posca with him, causing your mother to glare angrily at the interaction. Your father on the other hand was ecstatic that Coryo-uh Coriolanus- wanted to talk to you. He served under General Snow in 12; thought that Coriolanus was a man cut from the same cloth as his father.

Anyways, once you and Coriolanus Snow got to talking he admitted that he was going into politics and would need a personal secretary; an assistant per say to help him with his day to day tasks such as scheduling meetings, etc. and much to your surprise, he offered you the job.

That was a couple of years ago.

So, yes, that's how you got your job. And you really liked your job. It wasn't that hard to do plus it made you feel important that such an accomplished and powerful man trusted you to manage his life.

If you only knew that Coriolanus, who's been insisting that you call him Coryo for roughly a year now, has been lusting after you since he saw you in a cute dress that hugged your body just right when he presented you the Plinth Prize 2 years ago. Also, your boss is a dark soul. A cold man. But he does have a soft spot for you.

And only for you.

Which is why he greets you with a wide, manic smile that makes the corners of his baby blues crinkle. “Good morning, Y/N.” The platinum blonde senator says while crossing the room, heading to your desk.

“Good morning, Senator Snow.” You politely smile, pulling up the excel document in order to print out the day's schedule for your boss. And talk about your boss, he's holding a bouquet of white roses in one hand and a tray of coffee along with a pastry bag in the other as he stops at your desk.

Coriolanus sets everything down, only to grab the vase on the corner of your desk and bring it over to the trash. All the while saying, “I brought you some fresh roses, courtesy of Grandma’am’s rooftop garden, to replace the wilted ones on your desk.”

The blonde politician did that every Monday for you. He brought fresh flowers for your office vase. A vase he gifted you for your one year work anniversary last year.

Dumping the contents of the vase out in the trash can, Coriolanus gestured to the coffees and brown paper bag on your desk, only to explain, “The barista at the coffee shop got my order wrong, so I had to do a second order, but since I already paid for the wrong order I figured I'd give it to you.”

“Oh, thank you, Coriolanus, Sir.” You simply smiled, grateful for the free coffee. You were going to put a pot on in the break room as soon as you printed out Snow's schedule, but getting an unexpected cup of coffee’s always nice.

Perhaps you'll pay it forward and treat him to coffee tomorrow. The gods know that you have his coffee order memorized.

It's black, just like his soul, with a couple of sugar packets. Not Splenda, not Sweet ‘n’ Low, not Truvia, but real sugar made from sugar cane grown down in 11. Oh and he always has a chocolate filled croissant too.

You also know his afternoon tea order by heart along with his dinner orders from a handful of takeout places he prefers. Hell, you even know his liquor order for after hours meetings. But it's your duty to know those things since, after all, you're his personal secretary.

Literally his right hand woman.

“Darling, how many times have I told you to, please, call me Coryo.” Your boss shook his head at you while bringing the empty vase to the nearby bathroom to fill up with water.

It must've been at least a hundred times by now, maybe more. But it felt weird to you calling your boss such a personal sounding nickname. You're both professional adults, if you call him by his name it should be Coriolanus. If not then you'll just refer to him as his title, since he's your boss.

“You know I can't call you Coryo, Coriolanus. It's not proper; you're my boss.” You remind the senator, who's dressed to the nines today in a perfectly tailored three piece black suit- complete with a white dress shirt and striped tie, as he walks out of the bathroom and back into your foyer office with the filled up vase in hand.

A vase that looked dwarfed by his large grip. “We've known each other for a couple of years now, darling. I'd like to think of us as being on friendly terms, wouldn't you?” Coriolanus asked, placing the vase down on your desk and arranging the flowers in them for you.

You clicked the print button on your computer, only to swivel your chair around to reach the ink jet printer behind you. “Yes, we're friendly, but you're still my boss.”

“And as your boss I'm now ordering you to call me Coryo.” He told you, pulling out the coffee that was yours, due to error, and setting it on your desk while you watched the printer spit out the paper with his daily schedule on it.

“Fine, I'll call you Coryo.” You gave in, grabbing the paper and swiveling back around to face your him.

“I got two croissants since I had to get my order remade, so it looks like you'll be getting one this morning, darling.” Coryo told you, opening up the paper bag and pulling out a pastry. He grabbed a napkin that was stuffed into the drink carrier and put it on your desk, next to your coffee, before depositing your croissant on it.

“Thank you.” You simply smile. Handing him over his schedule, you announce, “Here's your schedule for today.”

The platinum blonde gives you a closed lip smile and nods before stretching his hand out for the paper. “You've got a dinner meeting tonight at 7 o’clock sharp with a political sponsor.” You reminded him, your fingertips brushing, while he grabs the outstretched paper from you.

Briefly glancing over the paper in his hand, he asked, “Would you like to go with me?”

“What?”

“Dinner at 7 o’clock sharp. Would you like to go with me?”

Shaking your head, you politely decline his offer. “Oh no, I'm sorry, Coryo, Sir, but I can't go.”

“Why not? Got a boyfriend or something occupying your time?” The senator sharply asks, his baritone heavy with a tingle of jealousy.

Coriolanus prayed to every God he never believed in that you're single. If not, well he's going to go whack some unlucky bastard to free you up to be his girl. He's decided that he's tired of pinning over you; stalking you.

Coryo's ready to take things to the next level. He's ready to fucking corrupt you; make you his forever. He's going to be announcing his bid for the presidential runoff, the first step in becoming one of two candidates to face off for the presidency, and it's time for him to get into a relationship.

A public relationship.

And you're perfect for that. Coriolanus knows, without a doubt, that you'll make a perfect First Lady. That your beauty and slight innocence will be the perfect contrast to his cold, stoic, but regal stature. That you're a perfect fit for him.

Plus he's getting tired of paying for whores. Whores that he has to keep disposing of so that they can't blackmail him about his sexual appetite. Coriolanus prides himself of being from one of the founding families of Panem, from the Old Guard. He even runs on the Old Guard ticket; he can't have some disgruntled whore tarnishing his reputation.

It'd be much cheaper and easier to just get you into bed; fuck you in all the ways that he likes.

But he also has a soft spot for you. Coryo likes you. Okay, that's a lie. He's obsessed with you in such a dark, sick way that if he sees a man smile at you or get too close to you then he's killing that man. Yea, Senator Snow’s in love with you, or at least in his head he's in love with you.

It's more like an obsession.

“No.” You shook your head. “I don't have a boyfriend.” Well, you had an on-again, off-again thing going on with your neighbor across the hall from you, but since it's currently off Coryo doesn't need to know about that.

Coriolanus swore that he heard the heavens singing hymns upon hearing that you're single. Yes, now’s the perfect time for him to make you his.

“Then I'll have my driver pick you up for dinner tonight. Wear something nice.”

Once again, you decline him invitation. “You're my boss, I'm sorry, but I can't go with you tonight.”

Usually Coriolanus appreciates your professionalism and dedication to your job, but right now he loathes it. Why can't you just accept that he's taking you to his dinner meeting tonight. That he's showing you off on his arm for the entire Capitol to see.

Leaning against your desk, he gives you a piercing look with his icy eyes and tells you, “It's a very important business dinner with a political sponsor, Y/N, and you're my assistant.” A calculating look crosses the politician's face as he adds in, “It's actually, you might say, very vital that you attend dinner with me tonight.”

Well…

When he puts it that way.

“Okay, I'll go to dinner with you tonight.” You relent, causing a smug grin to appear on Coryo's face.

“Good.” Coryo grins, making his face light up like sunshine, as he grabs his coffee and pastry bag. “Since dinner's at 7, I'll have my driver pick you up at 6:45. That'll leave a 15 minute window to get to the restaurant.” The platinum blonde told you the plan before pivoting on his heel and striding over to his office. Pausing at his door, with his large hand hovering over the knob, he looked over his shoulder and told you, “Wear either a red or black dress, but preferably red.”, before opening up the door and disappearing inside of his office.

Oh, how did you get into this mess?

Coriolanus sat at his mahogany desk, going over documents for various bills that he could either sponsor or just straight up deny. Honestly, most of the shit that got dumped on his desk he denied. If it didn't pertain to the Capitol and the Capitolites then he just shoved the document in his shredder and made a note to vote no, well in the Senate it was ‘nah’, on it.

And Senator Snow was notorious for voting nah on everything.

As he sat in his office going over mindless matters, he couldn't help but wonder about what you'd look like all dolled up for dinner tonight. He knew that you had a few nice cocktail dresses to pick from, but the mystery of whether you'd listen to him and wear something black or preferably red versus another color altogether made his head spin a mile a minute. He hopes that you're a good little secretary and listen to him about the dress.

But what he really can't help fantasizing about is what you'll be wearing underneath your dress. He can't help picturing you in a bra and panty set that hugs your body in the right ways. The senator's daydreaming about delicate lace molded against your most private parts, that are hidden away only for your lover to see.

And just thinking about becoming your lover, stripping you out of not just your dress, but your soft, delicate lingerie has his pants growing tighter. So tight, in fact, that it was downright uncomfortable.

Letting out a barely audible groan, the platinum blonde stood up from his desk and went over to his door. For just a moment, he leaned his forehead against it and debated on whether or not to call you into his office; have you on your knees underneath his desk for him. But then he decided against it; locked his door instead and went over to his desk chair to take care of himself.

You're not some district whore, you deserve to be properly wined and dined first before he has you on your knees for him- choking on his cock with tears and mascara messily running down your cheeks.

Oh, just the thought of you with your pretty mouth around his large cock had said cock twitching in his pants.

Quickly, Coriolanus makes his way over to the small sofa that's in the corner of his office. He makes quick work of undoing his belt, only to tug his pants and boxer briefs down just enough for his cock to spring free before sitting on the sofa. Spitting in his hand, he leans back into the sofa and wraps his large hand around his cock.

He feels his dick throbbing angrily in his cold hand while sliding his thumb over his tip’s leaky slit. The platinum blonde bites back a moan, and closes his eyes- pretending that it's your hand wrapped around his shaft and your thumb teasing his cockhead. Fuck, how he craves your touch. Using his thumb to spread precum over his tip and down the length of his dick, he started to move his fist up and down in measured glides.

Coriolanus knows he should just rub one out as quick as possible since he's at work, but the fact that you- the object of all his fantasies- is right outside won't let him. Being in such close proximity to you feeds his fantasies and he has to have a proper handjob session.

Coriolanus has to indulge in the make believe notion that you're the one pumping his cock up and down, twisting your wrist slightly every now and then. That it's you playing with his cum heavy balls, making his toes curl in his socks and black floor shines, as the fist around his cock starts to slightly pick up pace.

Gods, he's getting lost in his fantasy of you pleasuring him with your hands, hell even your mouth- that he's sure will be aching from his cock unhinging your jaw when you suck him off- that the loud ringing of his office phone startles him.

“Goddamnit! Can't I fuck my fist in peace?” Coriolanus grumbled.

He's angry that his fantasy was broken; that he has to fist his cock faster than he wanted to.

The phone continued to ring off the hook as he furiously moved his hand up and down his dick. He bit his lip and bucked his hips, spurting his cum into his left hand. The one that he was using on his balls before the damn phone started ringing like crazy.

Letting out an aggravated sigh, he grabbed a few tissues from the box on the side table next to him and wiped off his hand. Standing up to right his boxer briefs and pants, he heard your heels echo down the hall. Great, just great, now you're on your way to his office because the phone’s ringing off the hook.

Quickly, Coriolanus tosses the tissues into the wastebin. Rushing to his desk, he grabs the phone, only to slam it down. Hard.

Hey, he made the excessive ringing stop. Whoever called should just stick to the after 3 rings, hang up and try again later rule. Coriolanus has more important things to do than listen to a phone ring endlessly.

More important things: like jacking off to daydreams and fantasies about his secretary.

His secretary that's knocking on his door and asking him if he's alright.

“I'm fine, my darling.” Coriolanus called out to you while crossing his office. He unlocked his door and opened it, only to give you a manipulative smile while feeding you the bullshit lie of, “I just zoned out reading a grant proposal and didn't realize the phone was ringing.”

“Are you sure you're alright?” You asked, only to follow it up with the offer of, “I can always read some of those grant proposals and take notes on them for you, if you want. That way you won't get so bored to death reading them that you miss important phone calls.”

“You'd do that, for me?” Coriolanus asked, feeling a bit touched by your offer. Oh, how he thinks you're an absolute sweetheart.

A perfect angel sent to him from the Lord above. And he's your golden angel too.

Lucifer, that is.

“Of course, Coryo. It's my job to help you with paperwork.”

And before another word could be shared between you two, his phone started ringing. Again.

“Oh, I'll leave you to your call. Just put whatever you want me to read for you on my desk later.”

“I will, darling.” Coriolanus smiles at you, watching you walk away before closing his door.

Storming over to his phone, he sees that the video option light is blinking. Sitting down, he answered the phone and pressed the button to turn on his video call screen. As soon as the face of the half-assed idiot that was one of the Junior Gamemakers appeared on the screen he immediately felt a migraine coming on.

“Senator Snow, are you neglecting Head Gamemaker duties in favor of politics? You never answered my call.” The redhead man with a bad combover had the audacity to tell his boss via the phone screen.

Poor soul must not value his life…

“There’s 3 fucking months before the games, that I'm designing, so there's no damn reason for you to call me and let the phone ring off the hook. Are you incompetent? If you had the common sense that God gave a mule the. You'd know I was busy with other matters and couldn't answer your ridiculous call.” Coriolanus seethed in a long winded rant. His veins were protruding from his pale neck; a red vein was angrily popping in his forehead too. But it was his eyes that held so much hate in their icy orbs.

The man on the phone screen, despite being a few years older then Senator Snow, was a complete incompetent idiot in Coriolanus' opinion. Age certainly didn't make him any wiser.

“I'm a very busy man; next time you pester me I'll have you thrown into a tank full of rabid mutts.” Coriolanus promised the Junior Gamemaker before hanging up, hard, on him.

Coriolanus pinches the bridge of his nose and slumps into his overstuffed leather office chair. Letting out a heavy sigh, he rubs his temples and tries to calm down by daydreaming about dinner with you tonight.

Your day went on as it usually does. You took calls and made appointments for Senator Snow. You also read and typed up some cliff notes for a few bills that Coryo left for you before he took off for lunch. He didn't say where he was going and you didn't ask.

When he came back from a power lunch, you knew he went somewhere for drinks cause you could smell a hint of whiskey radiating from his pores, he greeted you with a simple thin lipped smile and placed a container of food on your desk. He didn't tell you to take your lunch break, but the way he wordlessly moved his baby blues between you and the doggie bag he just dumped on your desk was more than enough to give you a hint that he wanted you to eat. So, you simply thanked him, before handing him some notes and taking the food he got you to the break room.

After lunch, the remainder of your day was mundane. Or at least it was until Coryo emerged from his office and strutted over to your desk. You didn't pay him any mind, figuring that he prolly just wanted the other bills back along with the notes you just finished up on them. So, when he perches himself on the corner of your desk, all the while suggesting, “Darling, why don't you leave early. You can pamper yourself with, say, a rosewater bubble bath before tonight's dinner. Yea?”, you're taken aback.

You're in total shock.

Your nose scrunched up, reminding Coriolanus of a little bunny rabbit, as you asked incredulously, “Excuse me, Senator Snow? You're sending me home early?” Softly, you trailed off, “To take a bubble bath…”, while tilting up a baffled arched eyebrow.

“A rosewater bubble bath.” The regal platinum man corrected with a long finger high up in the air. Leaning slightly, so that he towers over you as you sit behind your desk (and gets a nice little peek down your v-neck blouse at your modest cleavage), he tells you, “You're such a dedicated employee; I think you deserve to go home early and pamper yourself before I drag you out to a dinner with my potential political sponsor.”

And what he wasn't telling you was that Mr. Feathersworth was bringing his mistress along. Oh yea… So, technically, it's a couples dinner.

Really? He wants you to relax and pamper yourself before a dinner full of political talk? Wow. You weren't expecting that from your boss.

“My bath and beauty products are actually rose-vanilla scented, Coryo, not rosewater.” You told him, before you could even think better of it.

A smirk appears on Coryo's face and desire briefly flashed in his cerulean eyes. The imposing man favored roses; in fact it was his signature, so that fact that you used rose-vanilla scented bath and beauty products had his cold, black heart beating with warmth, life, and daresay love for you.

“Darling, you deserve to pamper yourself in that rose-vanilla bubble bath. We'll be in for quite a long evening; you don't want to be tense beforehand, now so you?”

Well…

When he puts it that way.

Sighing slightly, you gave in with, “Fine, I'll leave early and pamper myself with a bubble bath.”

“Rose-vanilla bubble bath.” Coriolanus corrected with a ghost of a smile tracing his lush lips. Patting your cheek, he tells you, “Go ahead and go, darling. I'll be fine here for a few more hours.”, before pushing himself off of your desk.

“Thank you. I'll see you later for that political dinner.” You genuinely smiled, grabbing your bag out from under your desk and shouldering it before standing up.

“Remember, my driver will be by at 6:45 sharp.”

“Oh, that's right. You need-” You began, intending to give Senator Snow your address, only to be cut off by a raised hand. “I have your address in my employee files, Y/N.” His baritone hung thickly in the air like honey stuck on a honeycomb; slowly dripping down, as he ordered, “Go home and pamper yourself; get all dolled up in something red, my darling rose.”

As you sat neck deep in your tub, surrounded by bubbles, thoughts of your boss floated around your head. You never really thought much about him, or at least you didn't til now. Yes, you always thought that he was easy on the eyes- platinum hair (you always secretly wondered if the carpet matches the drapes), striking crystal blue eyes, a prominent nose, sharp jawline, tall and lanky build. But you never truly fixated your attention on his looks, or at least until now that is.

You can't explain it, but the interaction you had with him before leaving the office had your blood racing. You're flustered with dirty thoughts. Things that you've never truly let yourself imagine about Senator Coriolanus Snow.

But now…

Well, now you find yourself closing your eyes and thinking about your boss while relaxing in your bath; trailing hand over your breasts while your other hand’s rubbing your clit; dipping two fingers in and out of your pussy.

It's best to get this out of your system now, before you're stuck going to dinner with him tonight.

“Coriolanus, I was expecting your driver to pick me up.” You gasp, hand tightly gripping the doorknob of your open door, as you're shocked by the sight of the tall platinum blonde standing in front of you- dressed impeccably in a deep crimson suit with a single red rose in his hand.

“Bentley drove me here.” Coriolanus informed you. “Now, what sort of gentleman would I be if I didn't walk up to your door to get you our dinner date?” He smirks, offering you the rose.

Your eyes widen at his words. “Dinner date…but I thought this was a professional dinner with a potential political backer, Senator Snow.” You tell him as you shakily take the offered rose from his large, outstretched hand.

“Yes, well, my darling, Mr. Feathersworth informed me that he's bringing along his mistress to Mizuna’s so I don't see why we can't mix some business with pleasure as well.”

Before you could utter a word, the door right across the hall and behind Coriolanus opened; out walked your on-off neighbor ex. Bastard was dressed like he's going out somewhere (or going out with someone). His sea-green eyes look over at you and lock Coriolanus back a bit curiously: portraying that he can't believe you're all dolled up and going out with someone so regal looking.

Deciding that you didn't like the look on your ex’s face, you put your hand on Coriolanus' label and press a quick kiss to his lips before telling him, “Let me put up this rose, Coryo, and then you can take me on our date.”

Coryo grabbed your face in one of his hands and kissed you again, this time his lips searing and hungry, before running his hand over your cheekbone and darkly smirking, “You can just take it along with us, darling. I'm taking you home with me tonight; it'd be such a shame for you to leave your rose alone on a side table all night.”

“You're taking me home with you?” You asked, finding this information entirely new to you.

At least your bronze haired ex wasn't standing behind Coryo; gawking at you anymore.

Pulling you out of your apartment and locking your doorknob, only to slam the door shut, he bluntly tells you, “I’d be a fool not to, Y/N, and, frankly, I'm anything, but a fool.” Coryo smoothly tell you while leading you down the hallway; towards the elevator bank.

And of course when you reach the elevator your ex is just stepping into it. Great, now you're going to be riding in an elevator with your on-off neighbor ex and your boss/sudden new fling.

Oh boy…

“After you, darling.” Coryo sweetly tells you, guiding you into the metal box while following right behind you.

You feel your ex’s eyes on you, burning a hole into the side of your face, as Coriolanus hits the buttons to both close the door and go to the lobby.

“Should've known you'd be cozy with Senator Snow, considering you're his personal secretary.” Flew out of your ex’s mouth as soon as he saw Coryo's large hand come to rest on the small of your back.

“Odysseus…” You chastise, nearly hissing at him.

Coriolanus snapped his head around so fast, it was as if it was going to spin off exorcist style, and narrowed his eyes at the bronze haired man next to you. “I can have you turned into an Avox for slander against Miss Y/N, so I’d mind that useless tongue of yours if I were you.”

“Coryo, calm down. My neighbor-”

“Ex” Odysseus supplied at the same time you uttered the word neighbor, causing Coriolanus’ face to turn into hardened stone.

“She doesn't belong to you anymore, Odysseus. My darling seems to have gotten tired of settling for beans and has upgraded to the filet mignon.” The senator told your ex in a smooth, but eerily cold tone. “You ought to consider yourself lucky that I won't be calling for your tongue, but I'm sure I'm we can agree to you not bothering my sweet girl anymore, can't we, Mister-”

“Odair. Name's Odysseus Odair, Senator Snow.” Your ex shot out, his voice fake and sugary, as he played with fire.

Snow melts, but fish fry. And unfortunately for Odysseus Odair he'd learn that the hard way after Senator Coriolanus Snow gets him exhiled to District 4 for the crimes of slander. Coriolanus' cold ass gives Poseidon Odair, Odysseus’ father, an ultimatum- either sign over his assets, investments, and company over to him and go into exhiled on 4 with his son or his son would be turned into an Avox for slander against you, the senator's personal secretary and girlfriend.

Coriolanus Snow was a cold ass to everyone except for you. Something that you'd come to discover in time. But right now it's not important.

No, right now what's important is keeping the senator from tearing your ex apart limb by limb.

Sensing that Coryo was starting to unravel (something that you've never seen and, frankly, didn't want to) you rubbed his shoulder while telling him, “Coryo, please, just let it go. You don't want to be in a bad mood before dinner with your political backer, do you?”

Coriolanus’ jaw twitched for a moment before he gave you a slight smile, “Of course, darling.”

Odysseus found Senator Snow's demanear changing into sweet and loving for you at the drop of a hat very alarming. Honestly, he thought it was downright scary that Snow went from menacing one minute to practically cooing at you the next.

As soon as the elevator came to a stop and the doors dinged open, your ex practically ran out of them. It made Coryo chuckle.

You and Coryo walked out of the elevator together, only to cross the lobby and head out of the building towards his car. His driver, Bentley, was standing by the black luxury sedan that was parked in front of the curb. Upon seeing you with the senator, he quickly opened the back door. You thanked him and let Coryo help you into the backseat.

“Oh, darling, I'm so sorry for not telling you earlier, but you look truly beautiful in your red dress.” Coryo told you, once he was settled in the back seat next to you.

“Thank you, Coryo. You look handsome yourself.” You replied with a smile as the driver took his place behind the wheel and pull the car away from your building.

“And tonight we'll make quite the debate as a stunning political couple.” The platinum blonde confidently told you as you rode to the high end restaurant the meeting with major political endorser Mr. Feathersworth, and his mistress, was taking place at.

Tonight is only the first of many spent at Coryo's side. It's safe to say that you're Senator Snow's darling sectary; that he has a soft spot for you. After all, he charmed you into becoming his girlfriend with the guise of attending a political dinner with him for work related purposes.

But you'd accept that dinner invitation again and again no matter what universe you're in because that dinner ended with Coryo fucking you in the backseat of his car. The poor driver nearly drove the car off a bridge and into the opposite lane of traffic he was so startled by what his boss and you were doing. Yes, the two of you still were clothed (for the most part) but Bentley knew that if he looked into the rearview mirror and saw something he wasn't supposed to then Snow would have his eyeballs pickled in a jar (literally!). And after fucking in the backseat of his car, a life was created with Coryo and you never left his side.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #thg #coryo snow #tbosas fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow smut #politican!coriolanus snow #politician!coryo x secretary!reader #coryo snow smut #coryo smut #coriolanus snow x you #coryo snow fanfiction #coryo snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth smut #tbosas fic #thg fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coryo snow x you #coryo x reader #coriolanus x reader

[luvangelbreak]

Deprived

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 matthew sturniolo x layla venita (female!oc) summary: everyone knows the story of the bad boy and the good girl but what happens when the school's most popular boy, Matthew Sturniolo, and the girl who notoriously is never there, Layla Venita, cross paths. warnings: none? word count: 1.2k a/n: hi!! this is my first fanfic on here so im still getting used to the tumbler format but this will be a series. pls lmk ur thoughts or feelings or concerns or all of the above <3

pov: third person

Layla walked down the busy hallway, making a B-line for her locker that was further away than she needed it to be. She didn't want to be at school any more than she had to. The only reason she still went was to ensure she didn't get expelled for her attendance or lack thereof. Her shoulders were slouched as she pushed through the busy narrow hallway, her peers rushing to their classes.

The bleached blonde girl didn't care if she was late to her English class, it was the easiest class for her to pass even if she wasn't there. As the hallway started to filter out, she reached her locker and quickly punched in the numbers on her padlock. She swung the door open lazily, regretting her choice of rolling out of bed already but knew she might as well follow through with her choice now that she was here.

After throwing her bag into the locker, sliding her phone into the pocket of her black sweatpants that matched the black hoodie she wore. As she always did, she had her black leather jacket over the top since the cold Boston air seeped into her hoodie easily. She left her headphone in, grabbing her books for English even though she knew she would barely use them. She slammed her locker closed, easily heading to her English class now that no one was in the hallways.

She reached the closed door that was her class, swinging the door open and instantly felt the eyes of her peers bore into her. She closed the door, her teacher giving her an unsatisfied look but clearly not surprised.

"Layla, you're late," her teacher stated the obvious and Layla resisted the urge to roll her eyes, hearing that sentence at least twice a day.

"I'm aware," she replied blandly, earning a scowl from her teacher.

"Take a seat," Miss Piler demanded and Layla didn't respond as she slid through the students, eyes pouring into her. She brushed their looks off, being used to it by now, "And take your hood off."

Miss P glared at Layla as she sat down in the back left of the classroom. With a sigh, she slid the hood off of her head, her hair still covering the headphone that was playing music at full volume in her ear. The lesson continued as per usual but Layla could feel someone looking at her as she stared at the wall blankly.

She turned her head to the right to see a pair of blue eyes staring at her from across the room. She instantly recognised the cocky smirk that was plastered on the brown-haired boy's face, rolling her eyes as she looked back to the wall in front of her.

"What are you looking at dude?" Chris whispered to his brother who was looking to his left before he spun around to face Chris again.

"What?" Matt whispered back and Chris leaned back, looking over his brother's shoulder at what he was looking at, realising he was looking at Layla.

"Why were you staring at her?" Chris questioned, keeping his voice low so that the teacher wouldn't scold them. Matt shrugged, a smirk still on his face as he looked back to whatever the teacher was writing on the whiteboard, hardly paying attention.

"Was just looking," Matt mumbled back, giving a vague answer. He heard all the rumours about Layla, how much bad news she was. He also heard all the rumours about himself, all of the lies that people conjured up to make him seem better than he was. He wondered if it was the same situation with Layla, if the rumours about her were lies people made up to make her seem worse than she was.

The rest of the class, his mind wandered to all the things he had heard about her, realising that he never paid much mind to her. That wasn't unusual for him, he never paid much mind to most people except his immediate friend group.

Layla sat in the corner, drumming her fingers against her desk to the beat of the songs that played in her ears as she scribbled random doodles on her paper. Since English was the one subject she found came to her easily, she spent it daydreaming. She wondered why Matt was staring at her, he had never paid any mind to her before.

She didn't want to let it bother her, people stared at her all the time at school. But for the most loved guy in the school to be staring at her, it felt weird. He only paid attention to his friends on his hockey team and the cheerleaders that were always neat and tidy with their hair and makeup done pristinely, their outfits put together and a tad bit revealing but never enough to get dress coded.

Before she knew it the bell rang loudly through the school, interrupting her thoughts and students lept out of their chairs, desperate to talk to their friends in the hallway before their next class. Layla followed behind her peers, always being the last one to leave the room and the last one to enter.

After doing her routine of trudging her way back to her locker, grabbing more books she needed for her next class and being told she was late, again, she realised she would have to continue this cycle until her lunch break which was at 5th period.

+++

Layla had finally made it to her lunch break without leaving the school and she decided that she would give up on her last classes of the day, her brain already half-fried from the math and social studies classes she had just endured. She pulled her bag out from her locker, throwing the heaping pile of math books back into her locker with a groan. She suddenly felt a presence next to her and she looked to her left to see none other than Matthew Sturniolo.

"Hi," he beamed at her, leaning against the locker beside hers as he crossed his arms, his letterman jacket rustling as he did so, "I'm Matt."

"I know," she blandly replied as she started placing the books that she needed to take home into her bag.

"You're Layla, right?" he asked, earning nothing but a quick glance at him from her deep brown eyes, "I don't think we've ever actually talked."

"I wonder why," she mumbled sarcastically, only driving Matt to talk to her more. She observed him from her peripheral vision, taking note of his brand new blue jeans and white air forces.

"What class do you have after this?" he asked, clearly wanting to keep the one-sided conversation going that she had no interest in. She slid the bag onto her shoulder, sliding her hood back on.

"None," the quick reply from her didn't stop the dark-haired boy's attempts to talk to her further.

"What do you mean?" he asked, pure confusion on his face as she slammed her locker closed, turning to face him with a deadpan look.

"As in, I'm leaving," she spoke slowly as if she were speaking to a child and Matt nodded, biting his lip so he could think of something to say before she left.

"Mind if I come with?" he asked hopefully and she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

Not thinking he was serious, she replied with, "Knock yourself out."

She began walking down the hallway, hearing the rattle of lockers behind her as she walked towards the exit with her squeaky old white high-top converses. By the time she reached the door, she heard a pair of footsteps jogging down the hallway and she turned around to see Matt holding his backpack on one shoulder with a smile still on his face. With a roll of her eyes, she opened the door and he followed behind her shortly.

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo

[honeyspawn]

Silly Assorted Hatchetfield headcannons part 2.

Brooke and Trevor are best friends, and Brooke's family is Rudolph's host family.

Alice and Grace used to have play dates when they were younger, but it was more because their parents were friends, and they didn't really hang out other than that.

Sycamore is a Catholic school. They are very small, with an average of around 40-60 students per graduating class.

Paul delivered pizzas (canon) for 6 whole years. He started when he was 16, almost right after getting his driver's license, and continued through college. He started working for CCRP almost right out of college.

Even though their coffee is bad, Beanie's hot chocolate is surprisingly good (aside from the fact that they spit in it).

Bill got really into stress baking after the divorce. He has a sour dough starter he's really proud of.

Bill's ex-wife is a fairly successful freelance programmer. The fact that she makes more money than Bill was a big contributing factor to their custody arrangement.

When Peter was 7, the Spankoffski's were having a family beach day, and Ted tried to scare him by telling him there were sharks in the lake. Pete proceeded to go into detail about why it is scientifically impossible for there to be sharks in Lake Michigan and why he's an idiot for even suggesting such a thing.

The ages of Linda's kids (at the time of Honey Queen): Trent- 13, Seaton- 12, Jordan- 8, and River- 6 (canon)

Steph has been playing the bass since she was 15. She only really plays for herself, though.

Because Steph was born in October (canon), she has a big costume party for her birthday. It's the biggest Halloween party of the year.

#starkid #team starkid #hatchetfield #tgwdlm #black friday #npmd #nightmare time #alice woodward #grace chasity #paul matthews #bill woodward #peter spankoffski #ted spankoffski #linda monroe #stephanie lauter

[inkblot22]

Truss

Woohoo Malleus woohoo! I'm making the trigger list a bit bigger because I keep thinking about how people will totally skip reading it if it's too small and then blame the writer for their own mistake. That shit is clown behavior but I don't want to be held responsible for someone else's case of stupid, so sorry to those of you who think this looks clunky. Line divider found here: @/cafekitsune. This is also a fic that is wildly self-indulgent, in that I mean that while writing I visualized my own physical form and quirks.

That being said, this fic is written with afab (assigned female at birth) readers in mind. No pronouns other than you are used for the reader, but the reader does possess a womb. Reader's chest is not described in the least, just the lower bits, and even then it's not at length. Malleus also refers to the reader as "beauty," but masculine people can be beautiful too so idk but here's a warning anyways.

This fic is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. TW for noncon, fae interaction rules used for said noncon, slight bullying if you squint, one (1) mention of blood (I'm beginning to think I have a problem.) Stay safe while reading. Possible OOC Malleus, I haven't read any of book 7 and if you spoil it I'll block you temporarily.

This is absolutely not your fault, and you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. It’s awful. Crewel was for sure his namesake, because this whole thing was a steaming pile of-

Alright, from the top, just to organize your thoughts: you are the only non-magic student in a school of mages. The teachers are mages. Your best friend/roommate/monster friend is a mage. The plants here can do magic, but you? No. Thanks homeworld. Love the gift of nothing.

Thus, the faculty have seemingly created a game of “how to piss off and challenge the magicless student,” in which they give you various tasks to just make you lose sleep. Vargas had you running laps until your legs felt like jelly, doing pushups until your shoulders started sounding like glowsticks. Trein had you learning completely off the wall trivia, such as what type of fabric the Queen of Heart’s favorite bathrobe was made of and why it made her more powerful. That’s nothing, it’s easy because you apparently have so much free time in their eyes. But Crewel? Fuck that man. 

When you got the assignment, it sounded fun and exciting. He gave you seeds for a fast-growing rose thing. Honestly you weren’t paying attention to the name of it, but you retained what you needed to know. The plant only grew in moonlight, so you needed to cover it before you went inside at night. It needed a minimum of two hours of moonlight to grow per night. If the basket was overturned and it was exposed to the sun, then the plants would die. Moderate watering, no fertilizer, the usual.

Once the plants bloomed, you were supposed to take the flowers and make some kind of glamour potion, so here you are, failing at doing so. You only had four flowers, and you’re down to the last one. You wasted three tries and you still have no idea what the hell you’re doing wrong and it’s due next alchemy class and you’re breaking curfew on top of all of it. You glare into your cauldron with your latest failed attempt and hunker down to shoulder against the side so you can dump it out and try again. 

“Oh, it’s you.”

The voice makes you jump out of your skin. You turn around and you almost want to cry tears of joy, because if anyone can help you, it’s him.

“When I saw a little head duck down, I thought that something strange was happening. A crime, perhaps.” Malleus smiles, and it’s not a kind smile, but you’ll take anything remotely positive at this point, “What are you doing on the floor, child of man?”

“Oh, I have to empty the cauldron.” You puff out, still trying to throw your weight to push the cauldron. You did it twice earlier, so this must be the effects of mental and physical fatigue.

“Oh, that’s right. Allow me.” Rather than waving a hand or anything, Malleus strolls on over and uncrosses his arms, taking one hand and pressing his fingertips against the lip of the cauldron. The whole damn thing tips, the failed mixture pouring out into the nearby drain. With the same ease, he tilts it back and turns to you.

When he looks at you, it’s… weird. You know he’s lizard-like, as dragons evidently are, but even Sebek’s eyes aren’t this jarring. They aren’t soulless or cold or unfeeling, but it feels like he is looking through you. His emotions don’t reflect in his eyes properly. That’s what it feels like. They reflect, but it’s wrong. Fractured. His lips quirk into a smile and you blink.

“Uh… wait, what are you doing out here, Tsunotaro?” You ask, turning to gather more materials, following the transcript of your recording from class.

His smile grows, “Just on a walk. Will you tell me what you’re trying to make?”

“Uh, yeah. This glamour potion? I don’t know. Remember how I was growing those flowers?”

“Of course. And what happened to the rest?”

“I… uh… I messed up the other potions. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong here.”

“No?”

“No. Do… do you think you could maybe… help me?”

“Of course.” Malleus plucks the flower up, twirling it thoughtfully, “Why don’t you gather the other ingredients?”

That was simple enough. Petals from your tediously grown blooms, some kind of floral oil with tiny white flowers inked on the label, a ball of clay no bigger than a pea, something that really resembled a severed finger, something that was hopefully just someone’s baby tooth, a handful of crystals in a rainbow of colors, and water. Lots of water. Malleus watches as you put all your ingredients on the nearby table and hums thoughtfully before dimming the lights and turning back to you.

“And where did you hear that you needed these things?” He asks. It’s not something that he says with any indication that you’re right or wrong. The tone is bland but the words say enough. 

He has essentially told you before that he believes you inept, a babe in the woods when it comes to this sort of thing, but it doesn’t stop you from looking as hurt as you feel, “The headmage visited class and gave me some pointers?”

“You personally or the entire class? I don’t personally recall concocting anything like this when I was in your grade.” He says.

You suppose you’re grateful that he’s so blunt, but his flat tone makes the sting of your failure that much sharper. You thought he’d be nicer, since you two are sort of friends, and Lilia has told you that Malleus is fond of you, but it also makes just as much sense for him to refrain from easing up in his flatness because he supposedly thinks so much of you. He thinks you’re an idiot, but he’s not willing to treat you as such.

“The whole class. And no one else in my grade is doing this.” You mutter, staring at your assortment of items on the table.

He approaches the table and plucks up the beaker of water, twisting it in his hand, “Did you distill this?”

“What?”

“Tap water often has various minerals in it. If you haven’t been using distilled water, you’ve been adding an extra ingredient. Typically, most potions are much more forgiving and you can use tap water with little issue, but this particular potion is known to be disagreeable.” He murmurs, crossing the room with your beaker of water and setting it up to distill with a practiced ease. “That’s why it’s typically saved for fourth year students’ aptitude testing.”

The revelation hit you like a ton of bricks. You’d like to protest but it unfortunately makes sense. Malleus looks over at you, somewhat blandly, then turns around to face you, looking half concerned.

You answer his question before he can ask, “I didn’t… know that. I guess it’s my fault for being from a different world…”

His lips twitch into a smile, and for a moment you can see amusement in his eyes, fractured with the underlying coldness, “Oh, it isn’t. It may be your fault for failing to ask questions, but having someone who is unused to this type of work take on an advanced project is cruel.”

“You think so?” You ask, voice lilting with hope.

“Of course I do. Why you’re expected to make a potion of this caliber is beyond me.” Malleus states blankly.

“Uh, yeah. I- I don’t know either. But thank you for helping me!”

His expression flinches. It lasts for less than a second before it smooths into an odd grin. You’re not quite sure what that means, but you’re too happy to stop and think about it. The water finishes distilling and you carefully begin crafting, using the tips Malleus occasionally mumbles towards you. Don’t put that ingredient in yet, stir clockwise, you need to grind that up with the oil, don’t rush you have time, et cetera, et cetera, and then you have a gorgeous violet mixture, glimmering with a pearlescent golden sheen.

Your jaw drops. Somehow the few ingredients you threw together is enough to fill several bottles. Malleus is making a smug face as you rush to the shelves of empty bottles and choose several fluted bottles, quickly using a ladle to deposit the final, successful potion into the bottles. You’re so giddy with your success that you hardly notice as Malleus walks towards the door and locks it. But only hardly.

“What was that for?” You ask, not actually caring. You’re too happy to be worried.

“Oh, we’ll need privacy.” He responds.

That part confuses you enough into caring. You turn around from where you’ve safely wrapped the bottles and slipped them into your bag and shoot Malleus a frown, “Privacy? For what?”

Malleus doesn’t say anything. He walks over to the table and you feel your body stand up, void of your control, and stagger over to stand in front of him. If you were concerned before, you’re frightened now. Malleus looks down at you with his strange gaze and folds his arms.

“Wh-what’s happening?! Why can’t I move?”

“You really don’t know?” He asks. Something about his tone sounds mocking, but you’re certain he doesn’t mean it to be. It’s his version of sarcasm, he’s spoken to you like this before.

Your body hops up on the table, taking a seat, and Malleus turns to stand before you, looking down at you with a soft smile. You shift your hips- what the fuck is going on- and Malleus very gently hooks his hands in the pants of your dorm uniform.

Your dorm uniform is legit whatever the hell you want it to be, so it would change on the daily. Today it was a pair of jeans and a hooded jacket. He kneels to remove your shoes and stands back up, leaning close as he tilts your chin up. His breath fans over your lips.

“You didn’t tell me that you were so lovely beneath your clothes.” His hand on your chin shifted to your cheek, and his other hand laid flat on the table. “And… your smell is much stronger. Are you aroused?”

“You can’t just ask me that! I don’t know what you did but you’ve got to let me go.”

“I didn’t do anything. This is your doing.” He retorts, pecking your lips very chastely. 

“What are you talking about?” When he didn’t respond, instead pressing the tips of his hand that was on the table against your exposed sex, your heart jumps but your body doesn’t move. You can’t, “Don’t do that!”

“Lilia informed me that making someone climax is similar to binding someone to you.” He mumbles, kissing you again as his fingers slowly slip inside. “It makes them fall in love with you. Isn’t that the most binding contract of all?”

You don’t know why he isn’t listening, but even less than that, you don’t know why he thought you could handle two fingers, much larger than your own, penetrating you. You squeal, but your body is incapable of tensing. Malleus pulls back, looking at you in a soft confusion.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“With me? What’s wrong with you? That’s too many- it’s uncomfortable!”

He blinks at you and withdraws a finger, which feels much better. You sigh. If you’re going to be forced to do this, you may as well not get hurt in the process. You close your eyes and Malleus hums.

“Is this better? You’ll have to forgive me. I haven’t had a dalliance with a human before.”

“I- I don’t think I’ll be able to… to forgive you for this.”

“No?” You can hear his smirk and the squelching noise as he pumps his finger gets louder. He slips the second finger in again and the burn isn’t so bad as last time, “Well, maybe you can decide that for certain after the wedding.”

“The wedd-” You have to bite your tongue to keep from moaning. Your body leans back, laying on the table, and your gentle assailant curls his fingers, leaning forward to mouth at your neck, “There’s not gonna be a motherfucking wedding. You’re-”

You can hear his horn scraping against the table, “Hmm. I didn’t think you were so entitled. You’re squeezing around my fingers. Are you close?”

“No!” You’re a liar. A ragged gasp leaves your throat and you feel the drop in the pit of your stomach, the burst of euphoria traveling up your spine as his thumb presses against your clit.

Malleus laughs, then leans up off of you. The sound of clothing hitting the ground is the first and only warning you get, but you can’t move, so it might as well have been silent. You feel something on your stomach, coming up about a half inch below your belly button. It’s… almost cool to the touch. You would think it would be warmer, but it’s not. Your eyes round as you stare at the ceiling, and Malleus’s face leans into view, his eyes boring into yours as though he’s reading your thoughts.

“You’re very warm. I’ve always thought this. You must be boiling inside.”

“I- what?”

He doesn’t respond, leaning back up. You feel the velvety head of his cock press against your entrance and as much as you want to jolt away, you can’t move your body. You can’t even look down to see what he’s doing. Your lashes flutter as the stretch sets in, the pressure worse than his two fingers. It burns, especially along the bottom, where his weight lays heavy thanks to gravity. You’re capable of wincing and letting out a whine, but nothing else.

“H-hey, that- that hurts.” You babble.

“Does it? You are squeezing me like a vice. I’ll stay still for a moment so you can relax some. Let me know when it stops hurting.” It’s very peculiar. Although he speaks with an animated tone, his voice is often detached. You would think he’d have more emotion since he’s inside of you.

You blink rapidly and decide that now is as good a time as any to ask, “What the hell is happening?”

“Must you tease me so?” He responds, his voice tense.

“What? I’m not teasing you. I can’t move!”

“Of course you can’t. You only just bound yourself to my will.”

“I what?” You shout.

“What, did you think I enslaved you? I could have, when we first met. You’re too free, giving people your name, thanking them, taking gifts freely… it drives me mad.” You feel a flash of heat, something warm rolling against your skin, like standing too close to a gas stove, “And now I find that you didn’t even know? I didn’t think you were such a fool.”

“That’s just called being polite!” You protest. “Oh my god-”

“I suppose I can’t blame you, really. Relax, lest I harm you.” He murmurs, rolling his hips further as though he can slide in deeper. 

You squeak, “N-no, that’s-”

“Too much, yes. Tell me, in your world, do faefolk exist?”

“I- I mean, if they do, most people don’t believe in them.” The oddity of the situation felt like a blanket. Having a semi-conversation while your friend- not after this- used you as a dick holster. It was almost comforting. “I don’t- I don’t understand.”

His voice was deeper than normal, an underlying rasp to his voice, as though it was coming from somewhere deep in his throat, “I will explain. I’ll tell you anything you’d like to know. But after I explain, I will begin to move.”

“H-hey, no-”

His voice sounded choked, half strangled as he stifled a groan, “I apologize for not being clear earlier. Among the fae, verbal contracts are common and binding. You do not give someone your name. You wonder why I never directly gave you mine? It is a way to bind someone to your will. You do not accept gifts. Invitations are fine, but a gift is a sign that you owe someone something. My help- a boon- is a gift. Typically it is repaid with another kind turn. And, most importantly, you do not thank someone without the sufficient power to break their hold.” 

You felt him draw back, that wave of heat rolling over you again, and then he slammed forward. The slick noise and dull smack were muffled by your squeal, his cockhead punching your cervix like it stole from him.

“Foolish little thing. I suppose it makes you cute.” He sneers, and your body sits up, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

The angle makes his motion a bit less painful. He’s no longer bumping against your cervix, thank the Seven, but the stretch remains. Your eyes flinch shut and Malleus tilts your chin up to kiss you again.

“St-stop- stop!” You whimper, “You’re hurting me!”

“If you would relax, beauty, that would not be a problem.” His chuckle is dark, the squelching from your coupling making a wicked duet that makes you feel dizzy, “And you said it to me so easily as well. Thank me again.”

“Wh-” One of his hands slipped under your hips, holding your bottom just under the split in your cheeks, and nipped your neck as a flat thumping echoed from where your bodies met, your legs bouncing with the motion. His member had gone back to bullying your cervix, and you wailed in the hopes that he would stop, “Thank you!”

“Heh… it escapes your lips so freely. Tell me, beauty-” He cut himself off with a grunt, panting against the column of your throat. “Tell me, what is it that you’d like? I would give you the world on a platter, should you want it.”

“I- ow! Y-you’re hurting me!”

There was a possibility that he was getting off on the pain he was causing you, just as much as there was a possibility of him not understanding that he was hurting you. With every motion of his hips against yours, despite the wicked pain, you felt that ever evil tug in your gut, like a stone growing heavier and heavier. 

You tried again, because if this had to happen, if you were under his control now, you may as well not get injured. You would not be pissing blood if you could help it, “It’s too deep!”

He listened. It was odd, but he listened, his voice warming as he slid back a bit and continued ramming into you, but no longer beating the hell out of your internal organs.

“I didn’t realize. Is that better?” His voice sounded warmer, echoey against your shoulder. His teeth grazed over your skin again when you didn’t respond. He choked out your name and you sort of came back to yourself.

“U-uh- I guess?”

“Wonderful.” He mumbled, his free hand reaching between your bodies and slicked with your sweat, to tweak your clit.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly you reached your height. Whoever he had been with in the past couldn’t have been so sensitive, since you felt his body jerk against you, an uncontrolled undercurrent to his motions. You let out a quiet, squealing moan and barely even felt the break when Malleus bit you to muffle his own groan. You didn’t feel him climaxing inside of you. You felt the control return to your body and flopped backward onto the table, your hoodie damp with sweat. Malleus took a step back, then carefully redressed you, then himself. You looked up at him and saw nothing but adoration in his eyes, not the fractured appearance of such. It was like he was actually looking at you.

When he spoke to you, leaning forward to cup your cheek, his voice was warm, warmer than ever, “Now, let’s start planning for the wedding, my beauty.”

#twisted wonderland #tw: dark content #disney twst #tw: dark themes #tw: yandere #twst #malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia x reader #tw noncon #tw bullying #fair folk #tw blood #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #yandere male x reader #cervix bruising #you cannot convince me that getting your cervix penetrated doesn't hurt like hell #Because getting it touched is just about the worst feeling i can think of next to getting stabbed #equal pain my friend

[linonyang]

BF!SKZ WHEN YOU ARE IN STUDY MODE [maknae line]

read hyung line version here

pairings: maknae line x gender-neutral!reader (written separately per member)

genre: fluff, college au

warning: none

word count: 1.6k words (390-400 words per member)

tag list: @awooghan​​ @hwangsify​​ @xiaoderrrr​ @cosmic-railwayxo​​​ (join the tag list here! :D)

© linonyang - all rights reserved. please do not copy, translate, modify, repost, or claim as yours.

☆ JISUNG

he's very clingy, and he misses you very much despite being a busy student like you…

what will he do?

bring you to a 24/7 cafe and stay there overnight :>

so he can have you and coffee—two of his essentials to stay up the whole night

he gets to spend some time with the love of his life and consume the black liquid that will always make his eyes open for several hours

he'd say it's the best combination ngl :ppp 

when you have to memorize something, you can read the same line on your laptop repeatedly while leaning on jisung's chest

you get less tension in your body because your senses are overwhelmed with jisung's arms around your torso, his scent, the smile on his face, and his voice whenever he has to read his own paper or help you remember some terms

jisung will find ways to make you remember and understand concepts, such as making acronyms, melodies, or anything that can help you get them into your mind in an instant <33

if he could pull a joke with the term you’re trying to remember, he’d do it!!! he’ll definitely use some of his remaining brain cells to give your mind some room for more concepts to familiarize yourself!

his support and presence comfort you so much that you forget the pressure that has been building up inside you for the past week

he will be wonderfully sustaining this energy until you finish all of your deadlines and exams in the next few days

you guys will continuously do the same routine: meet up after class, head straight to the cafe, study together, and go back home

it may sound simple, but the specifics within all of those have been the best and the most effective for your peace of mind

and it’s all because jisung’s with you all the way <3

he may hop into your apartment and eat some dinner with you if you’re feeling lazy to go to the cafe

and look after you once in a while if you need any help, just like what you two do whenever you’re in the cafe <33

he’d stay over with you when it’s very late and plan out your meals for the next day so you’ll have a big boost!!! so you can be productive!!!

inarguably the best bf to be with imo :D

☆ FELIX

felix can’t keep thinking of anything else if he wants to be with you when you study

you’re his only focus!!!

and he’ll never stop until you successfully finish all of your tasks

(hence why sometimes felix tells you he kinda messed up some recitations in his classes :’< tell him to prioritize his studies too please)

right after his own class, he’ll rush to wherever you are and treat you like royalty as usual!

the only difference here is that he’s physically ready always when you need some company

whenever he has nothing to do, he really finds you and stays by your side until he has to leave once again for a group meeting or attend another class

he thinks there should be someone accompanying you so you wouldn’t trap yourself in any negative thoughts

that’s why he’s also your cheerleader

he has been very optimistic even if you’re on the verge of breaking down

and honestly, it helps you face all of your fears in academics

if you feel you’re gonna miss a task, you always try to remember felix’s words on how much work you did for your assignments and you can pass whatever you did

because, at the end of the day, you did what you can do!!! and that’s what matters!!!

if you got to catch up, good for you!! a cheerful felix is still by your side and applauding your effort!!!

(and he’ll definitely do the same if you passed your work unfinished :D don’t worry, he’s still very proud of you!!)

whenever he’s with you, you convince him to do his own work

but he’s very stubborn </3

as i mentioned earlier, he can’t think of anything else if you’re intensely studying for your exams!

consider him as your coach of some sort… he’ll always be there so you can be comfortably consistent at your own pace :>

maybe when he gets a lot of things on his plate, he’d still accompany you because “i always have the time to do my work :p” (a.k.a. pulling an all-nighter in his apartment)

you’ll look after him next when you’re done with your tasks.

he also needs some of your coaching </3

but that will end up felix getting distracted though because you are with him when he has to study. 

good luck :’D he probably wasn’t kidding when he said you’re his focus

☆ SEUNGMIN

seungmin will move in the background when he realizes that you have a lot on your plate

he works in the morning so he doesn’t do too much of studying under the moonlight

but you do the opposite

what seungmin will do is organize some things around you

he wouldn’t mind sorting out some things you weren’t able to clean up on the other side of the table

especially that stack of papers you’ve been reading for the last two weeks

your whiteboard, filled with your list of deadlines, will also be updated by seungmin!

“are you done with that one quiz last week?” “yep, i’m done” and there goes seungmin erasing that one written on the whiteboard

this is one random thought, but seungmin will definitely sort out some food in your fridge while you’re busy on your desk

you let him munch on whatever he’ll find in your fridge

he’ll throw out food that has been stocked in there for a long time

if he finds something for you to eat, he would bring it to you and will push it near you on your desk if you decline his love for you (a.k.a. silently giving food haha)

“c’mon, go eat!!! :<” “let me finish this bit?” *seungmin pushes the orange juice and already-heated chicken pie near you* “no, take a sip and a bite first!!!”

and he’d finish his adventure in your fridge once you take that sip and bite lmao

he’ll come back with his stomach full, with more food for you to eat

there is a high chance that he’ll scold you if he comes back after an hour and you haven’t finished that small portion of food he gave you :<

watch out for a very caring seungmin

he will not hesitate to feed you while you’re reviewing your books!

once your stomach’s full because of the food seungmin fed you and your mind’s overwhelmed because of information overload, seungmin will accompany you through your routine until you go to bed

he’s sooo willing to prepare your pajamas while you’re in the shower

he will also volunteer to do your skin routine if you do that

you wouldn’t be surprised when you’ll finally lie down in bed and you’re immediately wrapped with your blanket (that’s all seungmin’s doing :p)

you’ll have a refreshing morning with seungmin wrapped around you too :’>

☆ JEONGIN

if you’re in his room at the dorms (so he can look after you occasionally haha), he wouldn’t mind giving you the privacy and peace you need so you can focus on studying

because he can’t trust you being alone in your room :< you might get distracted if you’re alone in your dorm!

unless you ask him to stay with you :D 

he’s just one call away! he’ll be with the boys, playing mario kart with felix for a few hours

he will also scold the boys if any of them have the audacity to make noise

“keep quiet changbin!!!!” because the man shouted when he lost against chan in tekken 7 :((( 

he’s just… he wants some bit of silence in the dorm since the walls are quite thin and you can hear almost any sound outside of his room lol

then you’ll hear the boys squeal and tease him at how sweet he has been to you 

rip jeongin’s ears

since he’s outside of his room, you wouldn’t notice whether or not he went out of the dorm

don’t be surprised if he leaves you some coffee or muffins after buying his americano outside with the boys

he drops it off very quick! you weren’t even able to say thank you to him :<<

but you did find a cute note attached to the food he gave to you :DD 

“i love u :* such a hardworking baby :< always know that you did your best to prepare for your exams, whether the results are good or bad! mwah <3”

you value that so much :((( 

he leaves you motivating notes a lot until the point you have kept a box full of them from jeongin!

he’s so strict about your studying, so he really doesn’t get in his room unless you say so

but of course, you know this is not your home so you still let him in any time, especially at night 

you can trust him to not distract you

you still go to bed together :p he can’t survive without you in his arms

unfortunately, he’s so stubborn about this fact^ sigh

that’s why when the exams week is over, he greets you with a tight hug and tons of kisses

such a clingy baby after a week of barely any physical affection for you

“can we have a date now?”

“right away?”

“heh… yes?”

#kflixnet #celesteves #districtninewriters #k-labels #neverendingdreams #straykidsland #wkcnet #Hiraya-M #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #stray kids fluff #han jisung imagines #han jisung x reader #han jisung fluff #felix imagines #felix x reader #felix fluff #seungmin imagines #seungmin x reader #seungmin fluff #jeongin imagines #jeongin x reader #jeongin fluff #skz fanfic #skz fluff

[apricityxoxo]

Uncertainty II

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

hello yall this is pt 2 of this!

Din Djarin x fem!Reader

wc: 3,090

Summary: You are confused, you're always confused around him. He's always on your mind and you don't know why. You hate it. You always put a bit more effort around him. You want to impress him and you don't know why. Maybe it is because he's so irritating.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Info/Warning: angst, fluff, suggestive material (teeny tiny part not a lot), argument, an oc makes an appearance. lmk if I forgot anything. remember when i write i always have poc in mind, especially black women.

enjoy

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

So, he’s amazing…that’s all you have to say. He’s absolutely perfect and it doesn’t get any better. You know that absolute perfection is basically impossible but if anyone is perfect, it's him, you want him to be here forever. 

His big eyes and green face are the most adorable things created by the Maker. Even though he has wrinkles and the fact that he has hair but is bald at the same time, he’s still cute. You feel like during these two weeks something changed in you because you immediately wanted to keep him forever.   

If this child was a flower, he would have bloomed overnight. You watch as he makes himself comfortable in your home, making a fort with pillows to sleep on the floor. You watched as he played with the trinkets you had lying around. He tried to bring live frogs into your home, which gave you a mini heart attack from reacting quickly to get the slimy amphibian from your home, as gross as that was at least he was comfortable to try. 

Not only did he grow comfortable with you, but with your other students and kids that you taught. You told the Mandalorian during the day the child would accompany you to the school. He would sit in on the classes where you would teach him with the other children and pack him lunches so that he could eat during breaks.

The Mandalorian dared to disagree with you, to suggest that you cancel two weeks of school so you can focus entirely on the kid. “First of all, you’re not the only one with responsibilities, my students are also my responsibility. Second, I’ve taken care of children since I was still merely a child and it might do him some good to spend time with other kids.” You told the Mandalorian, now extremely irritated, he didn’t trust you and now he’s trying to tell you what to do.

You’re glad the Mandalorian reluctantly agreed because per usual, you were right. He made friends immediately; all of your students loved him. The child became more talkative, even though no one could understand him, he was a social butterfly. He made friends and played with them, ate with them, and learned with them. 

When you woke, you were excited. Today was the day the Mandalorian will return, and you’re buzzing with excitement. Definitely not because you want to see him, you’re just excited to share with him how well his son did, how much he grew in two weeks. You want to tell him, suggest to him that while he’s on Nevarro the child should be enrolled in school. 

You get up from your small bed and start your morning routine. This morning is different, this morning you put in a bit more effort and you don’t know why. Why do look at your face a little more closely this morning? It's definitely not because of that feeling you get whenever you are around him. 

You think back to the day when he dropped off the child.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Thank you for watching him…” he says in an uncertain tone. That irritated you, you feel like he thinks you’re incompetent. He’s always given off those “vibes”. Maybe he hates you? Maybe he thinks, you’re not skilled enough to watch his son? He’s always sent you these mixed signals. 

“It’s not a problem,” you said annoyed.

“Remember to watch him, don’t let him put anything in his mouth, don’t let strangers near him, and if anything goes wrong call me, my transceiver is always on. My transceiver code is 7 -”

“-75292MRC?” you cut him off, he’s told you all this at least four times, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. 

“Um yes that’s right…” he’s said followed by an awkward silence. 

“And um…thank you, I’ve never left him alone this long before so I apologize if I’ve been… irritating.” He says, sounding shy.

You feel bad now, what’s wrong with you? Of course, he’s skeptical of you, you would be the exact same way if you had to leave your child alone with someone you barely knew for so long. You’re about to apologize but then he takes both of your hands and you go mute.

“Thank you… sincerely. I know you do a lot for the children here so I’m so grateful you agreed to watch my son.”

You’re stunned and all you can do is nod to him. Before he lets go of your hands, he gives them a gentle squeeze. He walks over to his son and talks to him with a stern tone before giving him a hug, probably telling him to behave. He picks up his son and walks back to you and you feel your heart racing. He hands you his son and you jut out your hip to carry him on your side. 

Even though you can’t see his eyes, you feel like he looks you up and down. He stares at you for a second before he finally says goodbye to you, and you’ve never felt so warm from someone just saying your name. And you stare as he walks off.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You put more effort this morning, you do your makeup with a little bit more focus. You try to accentuate your features, like your lips. You add a nice dark outline to them, adding a nice neutral color to the middle. You add a little color to your eyes, making them darker with a bit of brown pigment, you feel you look natural but different. You unwrap the scarf you put on your head last night. You were excited, so excited that you prepped your hair to be styled in the morning. You spend the rest of your morning styling your hair, taking your time instead of just wrapping your hair in a scarf and calling it a day.

You put on a brown wrap dress that was the color of Caf. The dress had a low-cut V-neck, definitely lower than you're used to wearing. It has long flowy sleeves that are wide at the end. The dress is long and you pair it with some boots. You add some jewelry and finish by admiring yourself in the mirror. 

You even go as far as wanting to spray a bit of perfume. You look at your perfumes “Which would he like?” you ask yourself. You internally cringe because who cares which he would like, you for sure don’t. You settle on your favorite, a warm and mature perfume that you haven’t worn in a while. You usually spray this perfume when you go out with your friends or on special occasions, today feels like a special occasion. 

When you finish spraying, the baby monitor goes off. The child is up and whining, he's definitely hungry. You need to make him some breakfast and soon, if you learned anything in the couple of weeks it's that this child can eat. You prepare a full breakfast, a traditional breakfast from your home planet Lah’mu. 

You get sentimental while cooking food from your home. You make a traditional grain and you top it with an assortment of vegetables that look like the ones you grew on your family farm. You top it off with three large eggs. 

You talk to the kid while you cook, and ask if he’s excited to see his dad. You tell him about the food you’re making, you tell him the origin. You tell him what ingredients to use like which vegetables are necessary, which rice grain is best, and which seasoning must be added. You know he can’t understand you but it’s nice to have someone to talk to. You finish his food and serve it to him. 

“Enjoy cutie, should I make more for your da-” Before you can finish you are cut off by a deep groaning sound coming from your kitchen sink. You rush over to inspect the sink and open the bottom cabinet to look at the pipes. You have a leak. Now you’re irritated. Irritated by the problems you get from owning an old home. The creaky floors that make it impossible to sneak up on anyone, the outdated appliances that require older parts when being fixed, the uneven stair steps inside and out of the house, and now a leaking kitchen sink pipe. 

“Kriff!” you curse to yourself, looking for a bucket to place under the sink. When you place the bucket under your sink you search for your transceiver. You start to dial the

number by memory but before you hit ‘Enter’ you hesitate, it takes you a second but if you want this to be fixed you need to call.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

 “Thank you for coming, I know it's short notice and you usually need to make an appointment so I'm sorr-”

“Don’t worry about it Mama” he cuts off your rambling with a wink and a cocky smile.

Mazian Xorsson, you’ve known him for a long time now, he’s definitely…interesting. He’s around your age. He’s very tall and you always see his physique under the tight black shirts he always wears. He has short buzzed hair that is a nice golden blond color and light skin. He had dark deep brown eyes and you’ve always had a thing for deep brown eyes. 

He’s nice to you at least, he's a bit cocky and a big flirt however he's very considerate and funny. He was one of the first people you met when you moved to Nevarro. He helped you move and spent time with you when you felt lonely. When you first met, you asked what he did for work, he told you a little bit of anything, he was a handyman and plumber, and he even knew a good amount about fixing ships. Those were good jobs but that never explained why he always seemed to have money. He made you nervous in a good way, but not the same the Mandalorian made you feel. 

 You internally want to beat yourself up because why are you thinking about the Mandalorian right now. You literally have a tall and handsome man in your house right now. 

 “How much do I owe you?” You ask going to get your wallet.

 “C’mon, you know you don’t owe me anything,” he says with a smile

 “Pleaseeeee Maz, I didn’t pay you when you fixed the fresher! Let me pay you” you whined

 “You can pay me with a kiss,” he says with a wink and turns his cheek to you.

You roll your eyes and begin to walk away, not before saying “You're such a flirt” You go to the kitchen and see that the baby has finished his food already and he looks at you with a giggle. You pick him up and take him out to the family room walking past Maz as he walks into the kitchen with all his tools. 

You sit and you wait for the Mandalorian, your knee is bouncing and you don’t know why. The kid is in your lap playing with the belt of your wrap dress as you zone out waiting for the Mandalorian. 

You jolt when you hear a knock at the door and run to the door with the baby in your arms. You check the peephole and see a ‘T’ shaped visor looking around your front porch. You give yourself a second to try and catch your breath but you open the door when you see he is going to knock again

 “Hi,” you say breathlessly.

“Good morning,” he says back.

 “Come in,” you say and move to the side so he can step in. He goes to sit down on the deep armchair you have that’s facing the couch. He sits down and adjusts himself by spreading his legs, wide. You look at his thick armored thighs and you feel like you're being disrespectful. You shake those thoughts out of your mind and walk close to him to hand him his adorable son. 

“He did such a wonderful job, you have such a great baby,” you tell him with a big and bright smile on your face. You tell him how he made friends and how talkative he has become even though you can't understand him. You tell him about the things you tried to teach him and how well of a learner he is. You told him how good he ate and all the new foods he tried, for some reason, he’s not a fan of poultry but a big fan of red meats and eggs. He's an angel and you made sure to remind Mando of such. 

“Maybe when you’re here… he can come over or visit the school?” you say quite shyly.

“Yeah maybe, I think he'd like that…” he replies

You try to suppress your smile, excited not only to spend time with the kid but also to see the infamous Mandalorian more often.

“Alright, I’m all done but I’m still waiting for that ki-… oh I didn’t realize you’re having guests,” Maz says as he enters the room and sees the Mandalorian. You and Mando both stand but the Mandalorian stays and watches as you walk over to the man.         

You walk over to your purse and find your wallet to give him the credits. “Here, this is all I have but I should have more by the end of the month”.

“It’s all good, don’t worry about it” Maz replied

You both went back and forth for a few minutes and you could feel the Mandalorian staring at you. You finally give up and thank Maz for his work, you see him out and give him a hug before he leaves.

Awkward. That’s how you felt, that’s how the room felt.

“Anyway, how wa-”

“Who was that?” he said, his voice stern and serious. He said it like he knew the answer.

“My friend, Maz… my sink broke so I called him to fix it.” You said and you hated that you sounded so nervous.

“I thought I told you, no strangers. “He said, he took a step closer to you.

“You did, he’s not a stranger”

“He’s a stranger to me”

“Everyone’s a stranger to you, he’s my friend and I trust him,” You told him with an attitude, ‘why is he always questioning you like a child’ you thought to yourself. 

“I asked you to watch my son and you can’t follow some simple rules”

You’re pissed. You’re mad and you feel disrespected. “Why are you treating me like a child, I followed your rules and I would never let a stranger near your child, let alone in my damn house. I’m not an idiot so stop treating me like one.”

“Stop acting like one. Why can’t you follow some simple rules?  Do you think I’ll ever let you watch my kid again?” He argued.

That broke your heart. You only spent two weeks with the kid and now you are already attached. Fine. 

“Fine, you’re right. I’m an idiot, I’m a idiot. So, you’re right, you happy?” You ask, you’re so upset.

“Yeah”. He says, he sounds cocky and you hate it.

“Get out.” You’re done, he crossed the line and now you're pissed off. You go to get all of the child stuff. You shove everything in a bag. You’re angry and when you’re done you throw the bag at the Mandalorian feet. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t me-”

“I don’t care, get out. Now.” You say and you watch as the Mandalorian grabs the bag and walks out the front door. He turns around like he’s about to say something but you shut the door.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You ignore him. You can possibly seem to understand why he keeps trying to talk to you. He’s made his point clear, and you’ve accepted it. He’s dropped off the kid to the school for a couple of hours but you know he’s close by. Every time he comes to pick the child up, he tries to talk and you ignore him. 

Maybe you’re petty, it has been a whole week and you can’t stop thinking about it. You’re currently wrapping your hair, trying to complete the final step of your nightly routine but you’re distracted.

Every time you do think about the incident your mind wanders. First, you think about the times he tried to talk to you after the incident. Then you think about the time he asked you to watch his son and he held your hands, or the time he helped you down the steps of your home and held your hand. 

Your mind wanders even more, you think about when he came to pick up the child. He sat down and spread his legs. You think about that a lot, late and night, and imagine his gloved hands on your body. You imagine sitting between his spread legs.

There’s a knock at the door, and your thoughts and routine are interrupted as you pause. You listen to make sure you heard that right. You finish wrapping your hair quick and you go to the front door. 

You rush to the front door and look out the peephole. There is no one there, not even on the street below and you are now on edge. Maybe today is the day you get kidnapped and die and with that thought in mind, you open the door. You look out and no one is there but before you close the door something on the floor catches your eye.

Flowers.

Your favorite flowers to be more specific. Skeleton flowers in a dark green vase with a red ribbon attached to it. You take the flowers inside and set them on the small dining room table. There’s a note attached to the vase and you’re surprised that you're a little excited to open it. You open the note and all it reads is:

I’m sorry, forgive me.

-M

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

next part will be mando's pov lol

#roma’s works ❀ #fanfic #fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin #x fem!reader #x reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #star wars x reader #pedro pascal #pedrohub

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

One thing about how Hogwarts is run that always confused me is why is there only one teacher per subject. I mean, the teachers have to teach students from years 1 to 7, with 5 being OWL year and 6 and 7 being NEWT years. That is a massive workload, not to mention the other duties they have as well.

Frankly, I can only assume the Wizarding World doesn't have strikes or teacher's unions, because that is bonkers.

Ideally, there would a teacher per year for each subject. Or, one teacher for years 1-to-4, a teacher for OWL year and a teacher for NEWT years.

The Doylist answer is that Rowling didn't really think about that and only wanted the DADA teacher to change from year to year, but that's boring.

Well, I think a few things are going on.

Hogwarts is a Very Prestigious Position

Being a Hogwarts professor seems to be a very coveted position in much the way that being a professor at a university is. If you get the spot, you're not only guaranteed a job for decades, but an entire generation will know and respect you as a learned master of your field.

Given there are only so many slots, no one's going to risk that with whacky Muggle ideas like, "I won't work for X weeks until someone pays me more". What happens then is Albus says, "Alright, Quirrell gets your post".

This Explains Why the Curriculum Never Changes

Also helping is that the curriculum seems to be pretty set in stone/"open your textbooks and read page 4". We don't see students getting one on one help, they generally are left to struggle on the same exercise for weeks neverminding who gets it and who doesn't, and a lot of Harry's classes are "open your textbook" or "alright, go do some spells now, kids".

There's a lot of essays to grade but we don't know if some upper year detentions are actually "surprise, you're a TA now, grade, bitch". I imagine there's also a lot of, "Can't read essay: T" and in Hermione's case, "Ugh, too long: O"

It just seems to be the culture, man.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #hogwarts #the wizarding world #meta #headcanon #opinion

[vancehopperenthusiast]

Maybe I'm your soulmate || Robin Arellano || Part three

summary- you reschedule your library time with Robin to go on a date with Bruce, maybe it wasn't a game of oreo after all

tags- rain, someone is a huge dick, once again jealous robin teehee,, minimal Finney and Gwen content ):, I fucking hate oreo

CWS - cussing per use

Robin rushed inside the school, avoiding as many people as he could. The rage he felt inside of him was fucking crazy. He didn’t know why exactly he felt this way, but it was horrible. Less than a day ago you guys hated each other. Maybe it was because you were friends with Finney. Robin cares about all of Finney's friends. If Finn holds something dear to him, so does robin. It just works that way. He saw bruce on his way to class and almost exploded right then and there. He thought about saying something, but what if he just embarrassed himself? He shrugged the thoughts off and walked into class and slouched in his seat.

The bell had rung almost thirty seconds ago and you rushed into class, your hair was wrecked and your face was flushed. Robin looked at you curiously and waved you over. You took notice and walked over beaming. “Hey, what happened?” the rather tall boy asked as he sat up. 

You looked away bashfully, “All I'm gonna say is bruce met me in the student bathroom.” Robin was confused for a second, but then it all clicked, holy shit. A deep pit in his stomach hurt him, a lump in his throat formed, and a very strong hatred for bruce Yamada formed.

He scoffed and directed his attention to the teacher who was talking about something he didn’t care about too much. As much as he tried to focus on the subject but the only thing he could think about is how Bruce was all over you less than an hour ago. It made him so angry for no apparent reason, maybe he was just upset because ya know, it was a game of oreo or something.

Right yeah, that makes hella sense. When the bell finally rang you turned to him quickly, “Hey uh wanna meet up around 7?” he looked at you confusedly, “Why not five?” 

“Yeah me and bruce are going to the bowling alley to hang out at five, so see ya then?”

“Yeah sure see ya then.” he rolled his eyes and walked off. Of course, you were going on a date with him that made sense. Bruce was the “it boy” every girl was head over heels for him, hell he even knew a few guys who were. It's unimaginable how many people would kill for a chance like that. 

After school, he didn’t even bother waiting for you and the Blakes. You were probably gonna walk home with bruce so not like that mattered.

Once he got home his mother stopped him, “mijo, I thought you were going to the library right after school, what happened?” 

“Sorry mama, I’m going later she’s busy with her boyfriend” robin huffed shrugging his backpack back onto his shoulder, looking off into the distance. His mother looked confused, she grabbed his shoulder and looked into his eyes, “ma what’re you doing?” the brunette barely had time to process what was happening before he was engulfed in a hug. 

“Oh amor, I’m so sorry, there will be others” robin was confused, pushing his mom away he shook his head, “no mama it’s not like that! We’re barely even friends. I just wish she would have told me sooner so I didn’t have to reschedule so much.”

His mother laughed, “you don’t do anything after school. Reschedule my ass. It’s okay to be jealous over your crushes boyfriend”

“Mami she’s not my crush I don't like her!!” anybody with a brain could see how robin was denying his feelings. He didn’t know what his feelings were. The only person he’s ever dated was tabby Gibson in second grade and she moved away because everyone said she had cooties.

“Sure dear okay.” his mother ruffled his hair and walked off into the kitchen.

It was about an hour before seven, robin had sat there since he got home from school. Just rotting away in his bed. Thinking of nothing in particular.

He was about to get up and get ready, maybe comb his hair a bit and put on s’more deodorant, but his mother's voice rang through the house, “Robin! Someone is on the phone for you. Says it's important.” 

Robin walked down the steps, turning the corner to the kitchen slowly, he took the phone from his mother, slowly and gently putting it up to his ear. “Hello?” 

“Hey Robin, can I come over?” your voice was dry and you were sniffling. “It’s raining, you can’t walk over here”

“Please rob, please,” you begged, although the words could barely make it out your throat. His heart fluttered at the nickname, he figured it was important, “sure yeah okay. The address is 7741 on second street okay” he mumbled,” okay thanks so much’ you sniffled through the phone before hanging up.

It was probably about the project if it was really important you would’ve gone to Finney or better yet Gwen. She gave the better advice out of the two. It had been about ten minutes before you showed up, robin swung open the door.

And there you stood, looking like a wet dog, eyes glossy, nose running, and hugging yourself. He was stunned, why would you come here if you were upset? ‘Hey come on in.” he moved out of the way for you to walk in and swiftly shut the door when you did. “I’ll get you a towel. Stay here’’ he rushed off into the bathroom, and there you sat, dripping wet. “ Hey, here you go. I brought some clothes for when you dry off if you don’t wanna just sit in wet clothes all night.” he handed you the towel and sat the clothes on the head of the couch waving you over. 

You sat on his couch and for the first time in a minute you spoke up. “It was a game of oreo.” your voice shook as you spoke and robin immediately knew what you were talking about. He sighed and hugged you gently, “I'm so sorry N/N”

“It’s fine, I'm gonna go change real quick and we can I dunno, talk or something.” you smiled and walked to his bathroom, towel still wrapped around you as you shivered. it was a pair of unopened boxers and a huge ass black teeshirt. You threw the clothes on and put the towel in the laundry hamper.

“Rob, what do I do with my other clothes?” he looked over and blanked for a minute, you were wearing his clothes. Not like he hadn’t given them to you but still. “Oh you can put them in the laundry hamper  in,y room, upstairs then you take a left and it’s the first door.”

You pretended to understand the directions and walked upstairs. Once you found it, it was a lot cleaner than expected. Some action figures were side by side on a bookshelf, full of horror novels. Some comic books however were sprawled across a corner where a bean bag resided. His bed was messy like he had been laying in it not too long ago. You tossed your clothes into the hamper and walked back downstairs. 

“Do you have a blanket I can use?” 

“Yeah you can use this one.” he grabbed the blanket he was previously using and tossed it over to you. “We can share?” you scooted closer to him, practically laying on his chest. His face was flushed, “yeah sure” he tried to say calmly but a voice crack proved him wrong, you giggled wrapping the blanket around you two.

“So why’d you call me instead of Finney or Gwen?” 

“You were already on my mind, so why not.”

His face once again flushed. “Right, so what happened.” 

“Well we went to my place after school, and we hung out for a little. He was normal the entire time, but when we got to the bowling alley, his friends were there and he was like “ha got ya bitch, it was a dare” you sniffled, your nose still running from the rain and crying for hours before.

“What a dick.” robins jaw tensed, “yeah but whatever. Anyways how was your day?” he couldn’t tell you that he had laid in bed all day sulking, “yeah I just read” 

You snorted, “nerd” reaching up to his face to push up some imaginary glasses. he rolled his eyes, ‘shut up” a few

 moments of silence passed

He was gonna say something but just as he opened his mouth, only, you wouldn't hear him because you had fallen asleep. Soft snores escaped your mouth unwillingly, he grinned, looking up at the ceiling he sighed. Relaxing and trying his hardest to fall asleep too.

TAG LIST

frogtits1

@subjecta13-thefangirl

stupidratboii

karacaroldanvers

(IDK how to do a tag list forgive me if it doesn't work baes )

#robin arellano x reader #finney blake #griffin stagg #paperboy #robin arellano #vance hopper #the black phone #pinball vance #tbp #bruce yamada #oreo game

[jinnyxxn]

academic rivals to lovers - kim gyuvin

genre: i sorry i forgot (idk wht to name it, maybe fluff)

warnings: mentions of some idols

pairing: gyuvin zb1 x gn! reader

Monday, 20:44 - After Course.

you didn't go to the same tutoring as gyuvin went, except, the tutoring opened a free course from your school, and the top-ranked 5 students must join.

the course is divided into sessions at different times, but you and your bestie went on an earlier session than his scheduled session. so, your course was dismissed earlier and went home earlier too.

"girl"

"yeah?"

"are you asleep?"

"no."

your 9PM conversation with your bestie, sullyoon. you can't help it seeing your best friend was heartbroken. you turned on the lights, you grab a marker from the side table and you took sullyoon's hand. opened her injured palm and draw a rainbow.

"when i was little, there was a person who drew on my hand. that person says that there's a psychological trick when you're sad, we must draw a rainbow." you turned off the lights and positioned your head on the pillow, talking in the dark with sullyoon.

"that time i don't believe it, for me, a rainbow doesn't solve a problem. a scar on your hands would never change anything. but now, i realized. it's not the rainbow that would solve your problem, but hope appears when you realize that a rainbow only appears after a rain. that means when you want to see a rainbow... you must wait for the rain to stop." you said.

"cool." she praised you.

"who's the first person who drew a rainbow on your hand?"

you giggled, "who do you think?"

sullyoon guessed. "gyuvin..?"

you snorted indignantly which makes the answer correct.

"he was there."

"at my lowest point."

"hey, do you have feelings for him?" a random question pops out from sullyoon.

"your kidding! me and gyuvin are friends since the last 18 years ago! we're neighbors too!" it's giving a bombastic side eye to her.

she giggled, "but that's it! i feel, there won't be a girl who can be friends with gyuvin for 18 years and doesn't has feelings for him!"

"why? because he's handsome, a genius, ranked 1st, and a basketball player? or because he's nice and sweet to everyone?" you replied.

sullyoon turned her head to face you and hoped to read your emotion.

"everyone... every girl who has a crush on him... will never know what gyuvin has gone through, or how hard he tried—"

you stopped, "i was there."

"but he never saw me."

your vocal sounds weak, like it can break anytime, it's like you're confessing your biggest secret.

"i thought i'll be okay. but when I see how he looks at wonyoung in the hall, in class— i realized, gyuvin will never look at me the same way he did to wonyoung" turns out you're heartbroken too.

"so what?! if gyuvin doesn't see you the same way as he sees wonyoung, that doesn't mean you are not worthless—! maybe he isn't the right person for you! maybe—"

"but i don't want the right person, sullyoon." your words are spoken without second thoughts.

"if it's not him... then it's not anyone." blank stare to your ceiling, you're hopeless.

"it's kinda dumb and stupid, but for me, a boy in this world is just one. only gyuvin." and your sleepy as you're done speaking.

and maybe there's one thing that those girlies don't realize which is a careful step back from behind the bedroom door, lowered fingers, and aborted intention of knocking.

someone who chose to go home to number 7 after overhearing a conversation he wasn't supposed to hear.

Tuesday, 22:00 PM - Late Studying

you're studying. everyday studying. the top-ranked 5 students will get a guaranteed scholarship to any school, and free school fees.

top-ranked 5 on March:

1st rank: jang wonyoung

2st rank: kim gyuvin

3rd rank: y/n

4th rank: seoll yoon-a (sullyoon)

5th rank: watanabe haruto

the original parallel ranks per tryout if wonyoung didn't suddenly move in and haruto wasn't absent on the tryout day were actually:

parallel ranks per tryout from grade 10 until grade 12 (right now):

1st rank: watanabe haruto

2st rank: kim gyuvin

3rd rank: y/n

4th rank: seoll yoon-a (sullyoon)

5th rank: han jihyo (jihan)

but since it's June, the structure of the parallel ranks on tryout was destroyed.

top-ranked 5 on June:

1st rank: watanabe haruto

2st rank: jang wonyoung

3rd rank: kim gyuvin

4th rank: y/n

5th rank: seol yoon-a (sullyoon)

it was never a healthy competition, last year, alumni got sabotaged, poisoned, and even got encephalitis (inflammation of the brain). but this year, your very last year to graduate, the school has been tense.

you're done studying and you start to clean your books. picking up some books one by one and finding a strange book. blue leather cover book. you opened the book and it's filled with formulas handwritten neatly.

you immediately knew the handwriting, it was gyuvin's. you escape your house and you went to house number 7, knowing that his parents aren't home because on duty.

you knocked on his door so loud and fast, until the owner of the room opens the door.

"what are you doing this late going to my room?" he questioned you, leaning on his door.

"you left your book idiot" you shoved his book into his hand.

"oops, sorry i forgot" he replied to you, giggling.

"whatever—"

"can you come in? i'm struggling with things and i wanted to share some things with you.."

"sure?"

you went into his room, tidy and clean, just some opened books on his desk. you sit on the edge of his bed, and the owner follows too.

"you know the new student? wonyoung?" he asked so suddenly, you raised you eyebrows and slightly narrowed your eyes. "yeah?"

"you know what's the difference between her and you?"

"no?"

he smiled and slightly tilt his head, "when i look at her or I'm nearby her, i'm amazed because she's tough and she managed to change the structure of the parallel ranks. but the thing is, no matter how pretty she is, or how smart she is, she can't make me feel like how i felt when i'm with you."

you froze in silence, processing his sentence, and speak, "what do you mean?"

he smiled, leaned closer to your face, "i have feelings for you y/n."

"but i don't have feelings for you.." you replied, slowly you moved your head further from him.

"oh yeah? then, what about your conversation yesterday night with sullyoon?" he raised his eyebrows and smirked.

"NO, YOU DID NOT HEAR IT!"

"But i do hear it, love"

"GYUVIN STOP!"

"okay darling"

"STOP!"

"okay okayy.." he laughed while you were trying to hide your blushing face.

that night, you will never forget that night. pulchritudinous night

it's my first time doing this and english aren't my first language so sorry for grammar mistakes! — jinnyxxn

#zb1 #kim gyuvin #zerobaseone #gyuvin #zb1 gyuvin #zerobaseone gyuvin #pov #fluff #zb1 fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfics #zb1 fluff #jinnyxxn

[xaykwolf]

Why I was gone for like...two months:

So as some of y'all know, as part of my psych doc program, I have to do several year-long trainings without pay as exposure experience. Well, last July not only did I move apartments in one of the most stressful times of my life, I also started a training site at a behavioral health hospital for peds and adolescents.

Over the course of the last 7 months, I witnessed and had to hold space for some of the most severely-ill kids that our society is only happy to continue neglecting. During that time, I was expected to help them find hope and some behavioral changes with very little support from the organization (and, up until half a month ago, from my supervisor as well). I lost my appetite completely and somehow still managed to gain weight, I now have gray hairs when I didn't even grow them under my emotionally abusive supervisor during my intermediate training year, and I began making far too many serious jokes about suicide and homicide. I already don't get enough sleep, but I got even worse somehow, and took up a coffee brand with the highest caffeine content I could find. I obviously dropped off the face of the Earth here, and I stopped being able to engage in pretty much every other thing that brings me joy in life. Our caseloads climbed to extreme just before the winter holidays, but we were assured that it would dwindle again after we got back from the week. They did not. We lost two therapy students, one for health reasons, and one for bureaucratic bullshit during that first week back, and so those of us who were left behind were left holding the bag. We were then informed that major structural changes were going to be made to the partial hospitalization program we have, with little control over how it would affect us and very little notice as to when the changes would be made. To make matters worse, as an advanced student I had also taken on some diagnostic duties. That meant I was working with a practically full caseload and doing testing alongside it with insane deadlines for reports. I tried to let my supervisor know that I needed these dropped or at least reduced, then we got 23 referrals for testing in a single week. The diagnostic students went from 1-3 cases to 3-4 at a time, which is not viable in the slightest, and I knew things were gonna get even worse. And then, the heart palpitations started. I'd wake up with squeezing chest pains, especially on practicum days, and they no longer went away throughout the course of the day. I already know my genetic destiny is a cardiovascular nightmare, so I knew something had to give. I talked to my school, and they decided that I would be pulled from the site BUT because I couldn't finish out the school semester, I will have to redo my entire advanced training year. They may have me set up to go to a private practice site that aligns much more closely with my philosophy and needs, but as of right now I'm waiting to see if I scored an interview. If not, it's back to round 2 of applications for next year YET AGAIN.

All that to say, now that I'm finally officially out of my position at the hospital site, I'll have more time for things like Tunglr. It may take quite a while before I recover, all things considered. Tuesday is the first day I would usually be back at prac for the week, so that may be when my soul can finally acknowledge that it's over and I'm not going back. I've learned quite a bit about myself personally and about how I work as a therapist, so I can't say I regret my time at the hospital per se, but I know things will be much easier if I can score a position at this private practice for next year. In the meantime, I'm choosing to try and push it out of my mind. I've got my last two regular classes to finish, and I've got time to devote to catching up on my dissertation. I reconnected with a buddy with intention, and he and I are doing the parallel play of working on recreational skills we want to learn while talking over vidchat. (I've finally started on a Bee AMV that I've been wanting to make for years now!) I've got video games, and maybe streaming(?), to get back into.

I've made the decision to choose my heart, both physically and metaphysically, over an expedited academic path, which is not the choice I would've made a few years ago. So I don't know how long it'll take for things to go back to "normal" here, but I'm at least back on the right track for myself. Progress and all that. 💙

#Xayk Yaps #Suicidal Ideation TW #I've Got So Much More To Say But I've Gotta Crash For Class Later This Morning :B #Send Good Juju My Way For The Interview PLZ ;w;

[novankenn]

Holding Back

Chapter One (6/7) (843 Words)

/== Chapter List ===/

“JAUNE!” Yang and Pyrrha yelled as they made a grab for him as Jaune dashed forward. They both stumbled, falling to their knees and scrambling to get back to their feet as they watched Cardin take a classic boxer's stance, grinning stupidly as Jaune raced at him head on. 

“Just as eas...” Cardin didn't get to finish as Jaune went airborne; planting a foot in the centre of his chest, followed by a twist of his entire body and slamming his other foot into Cardin's jaw. Cardin was thrown sideways and stumbled straight into the far wall of the corridor as those who had poked their heads out of their own dorms watched as the weakest first year land on his hands and with a seamless push of his arms vaulted up and to his feet.

“JAUNE!” Pyrrha and Yang shouted as they grabbed hold of him, pulling him back as Sky and Dove rushed out of CDRL's dorm to check on their leader, who was laying on the floor of the hallway, breathing shallowly. “Calm down! Calm down!”

“I dedicate this battle to my ancestors...” Jaune snarled as he pulled against the combined strength of the two strongest first years of Beacon. “May they judge me worthy to walk the path of God.”

Try as they might, Yang and Pyrrha could barely hold onto the squirming form of Jaune. With no metal upon him, Pyrrha was at a disadvantage, unable to use her semblance to hold him fast. Not that Yang was having a much better time. Jaune's slim form belying the pure strength contained with in him. Jaune's feet touched the floor, and he pushed off, twisting his body about, loosening Pyrrha and Yang's grip. Feeling Jaune slipping free, Yang did the only thing she could think of. Twisting her own body about as hard as she could, she threw herself backwards as she brought both her knees-up hard. Jaune was yanked free from Pyrrha's grasp and yanked out of his midair twist, colliding gut first with Yang's knees.

Seeing the breath getting knocked out of him, Pyrrha moved. Pulling the wheezing boy up, she grabbed him in a full nelson, before also falling backwards while locking her legs about his waist. Pyrrha ignored everything around her, and just focused on holding Jaune and whispering in his ear. Soothing, calming words. Words from her heart and soul. Jaune went completely stiff, and inhaled sharply at one particular statement.

/=/

The three of them found them seated in Professor Goodwitch's office. Jaune having pulled his seat away from Pyrhha and Yang. They sat in silence as the waited for the combat Professor to return. The trio looked up when the door opened, and she walked in. Without a word, she moved past her students and took a seat upon the edge of her desk, arms folded across her chest.

“Just so you are aware, Jaune.” Professor Goodwitch gave him a very disappointed glare. “Mr Winchester suffer a dislocated jaw because of your actions; and he has decided to challenge you in our next class. A challenge I have decided to allow.”

“Why would...”

“Ms Nikos, as much as I feel Mr Winchester deserved his fate, due to his constant actions against members of our student body, the fact remains Mr Arc attacked him. Violently, causing bodily harm.” Professor Goodwitch uncrossed her arms and pushed up her glasses, “We are a combat school, and physical altercations are expected; however those are only overlooked if restraint is shown. From eyewitness accounts, and Mr Winchester condition... Mr Arc showed no restraint.”

“So you are letting that bastard, challenge Jaune just because he got his ego stomped?” Yang asked.

“Language, Ms Xiao Long; but yes, as per school policy. Mr Winchester has the right, as do anyone of you, if a disagreement cannot be resolved through alternate means.”

“I refuse.” Jaune commented without looking up.

“You can not. You must attend the match... though if you choose to actually partake is completely up to you. We can not force you to fight, only attend.”

“How does that help? Cardin will just attack and try and hurt...”

“No he won't. Mr Winchester has the right to issue the challenge, and Mr Arc must show up for it; however, if Mr Arc openly and publicly apologizes for his actions, the staff present will step in and declare the disagreement resolved.”

“This is barbaric!” Pyrrha snapped, “It's like the gladiatorial fights slaves were forced into!”

“Ms Nikos?”

“I even bet that this policy has clauses to punish Jaune if he decided not to show!”

“It does.” Professor Goodwitch confirmed.

“What? You're going to beat him or whip him for his disobedience? ”

“No such thing!” Professor Goodwitch exclaimed more than a little insulted at the Champion's insinuation. “He would be suspended, which we all know considering his overall performance would put him even further behind his peers.”

“So he has no choice.” Yang muttered.

“He has no choice in regard to attending the match. As for participating... that is up to him.”

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #saphron cotta arc #shadow skill - anime #jaune's got skills #holding back

[nizar-dreams]

If Only You Believe in Miracles So Would I Summary

"The Department of Magical Education has twisted Albus Dumbledore's arm and have required the Headmaster to get a second teacher for each core subjects at Hogwarts. Severus Snape almost weeps with relief at the news. But the school year is not without other far interesting events. With young Harry Potter starting his first year at Hogwarts, new (surprisingly competent) teachers, a suspicious Albus, and a rare and powerful artifact hidden inside the school, Severus wonders if he ends up trading less homework for even more stresses in his life."

Okay listen, this story was birthed for many reasons. My continued obsession with Severus Snape, my anger at Albus fucking Dumbledore, and the incompetency of (Wizarding) Government. But the biggest one, which bamboozles me the most, is the lack of teachers for Hogwarts.

Think. About. It.

If you have gone to a school of around 400 students, you and I are aware that at this many students, you still have at least two to three teachers per core subject. Why? Because it is a foolish notion to believe that 1 (one) teacher can even handle teaching all 400 students in one week without seriously sacrificing student education and how much you actually teach them and what they have to self study. Which, as someone who's already graduated high school nearly two years ago, self study was not my strongest suits at all unless I liked the class and teacher.

As someone who observed my own teachers and how they handled various class sizes (choir was the easiest to see as Jazz was the smallest, but we'd easily have 25+ students for regular choir and that was... ridiculous for my teacher to handle somedays.) I can confidently say, that teaching two Hogwart Houses that are easily 20-30 students per house, which means a classroom of 40-60 students, is absolutely bat shit insane.

And then you have to be a Head of House as well? Or if you're McGonagall, you're also Deputy Headmistress and having to cover for Albus bloody Dumbledore because the Headmaster has a second job as a politician and the current Minister Of Magic is an idiot? I would be sobbing and burnt out by the end of the first month. I would need a Time-Turner just to have some sleep and me time.

Or if you're Snape, you're trying to save a child from getting himself killed, while playing spy, while playing evil teacher who favours his snakes, while also having to deal with children trying to blow themselves or their classmates up in his classroom. Because potions is a dangerous art, and children, especially the first and second years, are idiots. And especially whoever decided that Gryffindors and Slytherins get to spend potions in the same classroom. Together.

Whoever makes that schedule is an idiot, or horribly optimisitc.

But as you can see that is such a ridiculous amount of pressure to put on a single teacher that teaches the core subjects at Hogwarts for virtually all 7 years. So. This story was created. The Department of Magical Education finally got the memo and were like "wow are kids are kinda... fucking stupid compared to Ilvermorny, Beauxbaton, and Durmstrang... that's mad embarassing" and told Albus that he had to get more teachers and that was not negotiable. Except for history. They don't exactly care about history it seems. (I also lowkey forgot about it, but I think it makes sense that they already have a 'nonpayed' teacher so why bother with an actual one? Don't worry some parent will make a fuss about it or something, and a good portion of the teachers are good with history anyway so its all finnneee)

Well. Here we are. I have thus 'hired' 6 additional teachers besides Quirrel. 6 competent adults who take their jobs pretty seriously. I actually love all of them, they have their quirks, and I tried diversifying the staff as much as I could without it being forced.

For instance, our new transfiguration teacher is an older gentleman, 61 years old, who studied at Beauxbaton, and from Denmark. Our Herbology teacher is a young Scottish woman, barely 28 with a boyish charm, and is subtley bisexual. Our charms teacher is 35, and they use neutral pronouns and have an otherworldly appearance with big eyes and bronzed skin. My main character, our additional potions teacher, is 41, Salvadoran-American, and gay. Our astronomy teacher is a striking Irish woman who learned at Ireland's school, Erehnoll. And lastly our other DADA teacher is a woman born in El Salvador, 37, and has lived a very interesting life since.

We're branching out, alright. Like yeah I could branch further, but already some of the canon characters who could be considered as simply 'British White' will probs not be just that. And this is just the first year with new teachers. Maybe another year if results are good, I could introduce more. (It's so many characters to jugle but I think I am doing admirably. But I think for now, the current cast is already better then years prior. If I do add more teachers, it'll be for history for sure.)

For now, this is why I made this story. That it was absurd to leave the 6 out of 7 of the core subjects to a singular teacher. I would be in tears, really. I do go more in details on the ridiculousness of this all in the story, but here I am giving you a sneak preview at a lot of my thoughts on the subject that get dramatic and also distorted through character POVs. I think it'll be fun to read it from one of the characters, it makes me smile. They seem the type to be sarcastic and dramatic in their thoughts while exasperated to the 10th power.

I can't wait for Janurary 1st. I'm so excited for you all to see the chaos.

#ao3 writer #fanfic got out of hand #harry potter fanfic #writers #magical world #world building #work in progress #i’m suffering it’s okay #obsessed with my story #sanityisforlosers #how big of a story is too big? #literally don’t know how i got here #harry potter world building #expanding worlds #researching gone wild #writing fanfic #fanfic #canon can fight me #If Only You Believe In Miracles So Would I #IOYBIMSWI #Yeah i made my own tag for my story #what about it

[fulgurbugs]

ok at this point i just need to explain. how fucking insane this stupid semester long assignment has been to yall.

So basically, over the semester in addition to the textbook, there have been extra readings we've had to read and over the class students have been leading in-class discussions on them. pretty standard stuff and everything.

the problem comes with this. each one we had to write a 600 word summary and reflection to go with each one. we had to turn in half at midterms, and im handing the second half the last regular class of the semester (tomorrow) she took one reading out so this was 17 readings total, 9 by midterm, 7 at final

as you can imagine, that sounds really not like the worst thing in the world but quickly spirals as you realized how fucking long this actually is printed out and formatted. this was the first half of the assignment

(note. literally 20 pages. big ass fucking packet when stapled together)

now, because this assignment is so long, AND this professor is a notoriously slow grader, I actually haven't been handed back this full assignment yet. last class, she handed back everyone a PARTIAL graded section of the first half of the assignment.

I received the first 4 pages of my 20 page paper back. and then, I also realized I had received a very low grade on it (like 68 I think?) which was weird, because she had said she wasn't going to be grading these very harshly like she normally does.

so i check the notes and its like this

ok, so basically she took off 1/3 of my points per entry for missing citation! what the fuck! because as you'll note,

obviously there are fucking in text citations. you can even see one of them next to the writing in the first image. clearly there are citations, but she's graded me like there aren't full citations in a bibliography at the end. but there are! every pdf assigned has a full bibliography entry at the end of the paper. like obviously, these are just the in-text citations for specific information i've pulled from the text.

but anyways. I bring this up with her in class, to make sure im not gonna be losing 1/3 of my grade for this, and it turns out what she's been doing is literally going through each paper, reading the first entry for the first reading, then reading the next paper's first entry only, and so on, and then going through every paper and reading the second entry, instead of grading each paper all the way through at once.

so since she was doing this, she never checked that I had actually provided citations by flipping to the end of my paper and seeing my 9 citations of every reading, as requested? whatever. what the hell. she said I'd get the points back so whatever, ill keep an eye on my grade to make sure she remembers to bring them back. (im not expecting to get full grades on the citations anyways, i've had this professor for two semesters and i've literally never fucking gotten them fully correct once somehow) I just want to not have a 0/4 on citations.

but anyways, I put off reading a bunch of the articles til right before it was due (not anyones fault but mine, im causing my own pain for this one lol) and im just speedrunning this, putting my citations before each entry so theres no fucking way she can miss them, and this thing is still

14 pages long.

so she hasn't graded 16/20 pages of the first one yet, and now everyone's gonna be handing her 14-16 more pages of writing for her to grade tomorrow. its never gonna get graded on time. I havent received my midterm test grade back yet. why does she do this. why did she need 34 pages of writing summary on these readings. why couldn't she make it 300 words per article. truly baffling stuff

but the paper is written, shitass garbage style and i am free.

#hopefully i get this grade back sometime this century i doubt it tho #she actually cancelled one of our 3 essays off the syllabus because she was so behind on grading. #maam i can see why. you have hundreds of pages of shitty article reflection because theres like 20 people in this class. #why would you do this to us and yourself. #the state of the art history department at my school. this isnt even close to how bad my other art history professor was though.

[xknivesandpensx]

Like Pieces of a Puzzle

Chapter 7

Summary: What if Harry wasn't the only extra student called upon to participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Far from the most popular candidate, Draco not only has to take on the trials but also deal with his unexpected feelings for Hermione. Will he be able to face the challenges as well as follow his heart?

Chapter length will vary. I'll be referencing both the books and movie versions. Some things from what I've previously written will be mentioned, all of which you can find here.

And for those who asked to be tagged: @dayane245love

When Hermione entered the common room, Harry and Ron were finishing their Divination homework. Two volumes of Unfogging the Future laid open on the table as they spoke back and forth to one another, rattling off random unfortunate events. Only a few students remained hanging around, including Fred and George, who disappeared upstairs upon her arrival.

Crookshanks jumped from Harry’s lap and rushed over to rub against her leg. Hermione greeted him, lowering down to brush her hand over his ginger fur, causing a loud purr to be heard. He took off soon after, deciding to curl up near the fireplace.

Hermione peered over Ron’s chart. Her lips pressed together upon skimming over his work. “Not going to have a very good month, are you? You seem to be drowning twice. Don’t you think it’s a bit obvious you’ve made these up? Then again, Professor Trelawney isn’t very creditable. She’d likely believe you.”

Harry shrugged, silently agreeing per the latter. “She already told me; ‘I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass.’ I suppose I prefer that over her predicting my death all year. I think this one is a nice touch, considering.”

She read the answer, raising a brow. “Decapitation? It’s barely better than Ron getting trampled by a rampaging Hippogriff.”

“It’s not easy coming up with good ways to die,” Ron defended as she took a seat next to him. “Besides, we all know she’s a bit of a nutter. If it’s not downright devastating, she’ll think we haven’t tried hard enough.”

“It’s beyond me why the two of you are wasting your time in her class. Everything she says is rubbish,” Hermione mentioned, attempting to maintain her usual self, despite feeling quite the opposite. “You should’ve taken Arithmancy. Professor Vector is strict, but she really gives us a challenge.”

“Well, bully for her,” Ron muttered in return, picking up his quill to write more.

During a lapse of silence, Hermione put the box she carried on the far end of the table. She wanted to talk about S.P.E.W. but the urge of excitement dwindled. For some reason, a sudden awkward feeling buried itself in her stomach. And what for? A single, civil conversation?

She shook her head, as if the motion alone possessed the ability to shake Draco from her thoughts. 

Hermione noticed Harry’s slight tensing, how he hesitated to move his hand to his forehead. She ducked down, speaking in a whisper. “Your scar’s bothering you again, isn’t it?”

“It’s nothing.” He wished she didn’t look at him quite like that, with concern pooling in her brown eyes, her features softening by worry.

Somehow, Hermione was the only one who ever noticed.

Ron lifted his gaze after she spoke, now questionably regarding him too, however, where Hermione held apprehension, he took on a puzzled expression.

Harry felt suddenly uncomfortable by their stares and turned his attention elsewhere. “What’s in the box?” he asked, moving to get a better view of the contents. He took out a badge and flipped it over, merely to be interrupted before he could say anything.

Although wise to his tactics, Hermione went along almost automatically. “Before you ask, S.P.E.W. stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status, but it wouldn’t fit. After much consideration, I decided to take a practical approach. With both of you helping, think of what we can do for them. Of course, we’ll need more than three members.”

“This again, really? It’s all you ever go on about,” Ron complained. He believed the house-elves were content, happy even, doing as they always have.

She glared at him but otherwise ignored the comment. “I’ve done loads of research. Obviously, we’ll need money. Two Sickles to join seems right to me. You’re treasurer, Ron. Harry, you can be the secretary, so you might want to write everything down I’m about to say.”

As if he’d know the important details to keep track of. He maybe even regretted asking, if not for the fact of it stealing the notice from himself. Harry took another from the box. “What happened to this one?”

“Oh, I forgot to fix it.” Hermione drew her wand out. “I banged into Malfoy on my way here. He stepped on it. I think by accident. Reparo.” It came together in an instant, now identical to the rest.

She started to wonder how he’d be next time they saw one another. To Hermione, at least, she thought something changed or perhaps it was all in her head. Draco being nice didn’t quite mean anything. But in regards to her? Who could say for sure.

She still felt the impression his hand left, how the tingling sensation raced across her skin. To think a single touch had the power to inflict such a sensation. Hermione knew if she vocally indulged in the matter to them, they’d think her as mad as Professor Trelawney.

Possibly, she’d agree given who she often caught herself daydreaming about him. And while a part of her thought it wrong to keep secrets from her friends, crushes were simply excluded from any of their discussions. Although, Harry’s interest in Cho appeared obvious, once picking up on it. His whole face lit up upon seeing her. He forgot how to speak and embarrassed himself on more than one occasion.

Ron, on the other hand, she didn’t see his interest latch onto anyone (because even he hadn’t caught onto his growing feeling for Hermione yet).

“Malfoy again? Strange for him to be roaming the halls, isn’t it?” Harry asked, figuring he may as well take out a blank piece of paper. He smoothed it out by using his forearm, struggling not to wince after he felt another dull sting.

Hermione forced a steady voice, restraining from answering too quickly. “Hardly. He just left Professor Moody’s classroom. Anyway there’s something – ”

“Does that mean he got in trouble?” Ron interjected, his mood lightening. “He deserved it in any case, on the account of Neville, of course. Hasn’t been right ever since.”

She took the badge from Harry and tossed it in with the others. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you? I’m sure Neville isn’t upset anymore. And you needn’t look so happy about it either. Points taken away would be the direct approach, not detention.”

She refrained from disclosing the details of Draco’s punishment, considering they’d only see Moody in a higher regard, lacking the true brutality of the ordeal. Telling them greatly differed from seeing the results in person.

“Defending him now?” Rom came across affronted, his gaze quick to find hers. “He did laugh after Pansy pushed you in the mud. Not to mention everything else he’s done over the years.”

“Thanks, Ron. I nearly forgot about that highly mortifying moment.” Hermione turned to the window where a snowy white owl could be spotted, any further words lost. Hedwig tapped her beak on the glass, waiting for entrance.

Harry quickly crossed the room, letting her inside before untying the parchment attached to her leg. His eyes scanned the letter Sirius sent. Both Ron and Hermione moved into the corner, away from the few students who’d possibly overhear them.

“Not now,” Harry remarked to Hedwig, who hooted for attention. He kept his summarily to the overall point. “He’s coming back because he thinks I’m in trouble.” Disbelief clung to his hushed tone. “But there’s nothing wrong, nothing worth him taking the risk.”

Hermione moved to put her hand on his shoulder in hopes of providing comfort. She instantly felt the strain pulling along his muscles. “He cares about you and it is concerning. Of course, he’d want to be closer. Your scar just bothered you.”

“For a few seconds,” Harry snapped, shrugging her off. Her pacifying voice irritated him, yet the negative emotion vanished in a flash after he caught sight of the hurt look on her face. “Sorry… I can’t lose him too.” He grabbed a piece of paper, writing a hurried reply.

Hermione trailed after him, taking it upon herself to read as he wrote. “You’re lying, you didn’t imagine it. He’ll know exactly what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. He’s probably already on his way.”

Harry disregarded her and went back to Hedwig.

“Might as well not bother,” Ron said. He returned to the table, in which Hermione followed, still casting a worried glance. “I get it, though. It has to be hard. Wanting him near but needing him off someplace else.”

Hermione nodded, aware Harry desired nothing more than to leave the Dursley’s and live with Sirius. He talked to her about it in length once, describing how connected they became in a small amount of time.

She watched as Hedwig gave Harry a rather hard nip on the fingers for having to be sent out again, despite complying. Before she managed another sentence, Harry retreated upstairs, muttering about being tired, leaving her to slump in her seat, attempting to sort through her thoughts as Ron quietly went back to his homework.

Hermione managed to talk to Ginny the next day. They left lunch early so she could send a letter to her parents, borrowing Hedwig, for Sirius responded and his answer came that morning, urging his godson to use other owls due to her bright color. And he, as she expected, knew of Harry’s attempts to downplay the pain.

The walk to and from the owlery provided enough privacy to explain the conversation she and Draco shared. A warm breeze swept past as they trailed the bridge, passing Cedric along the way, who gave a nod and light smile in their direction, having met them during summer.

“I mean, you find it odd too, right?” Hermione asked as soon as they were out of earshot. Uncertainty wormed its way inside. She fought to find a rational conclusion in means of putting her heart aside. “I think I’m making nothing into so much more.”

Ginny kept her gaze on her feet, taking a few steps to consider an answer. “Why not simply try talking to him again? Get things sorted out?”

The suggestion came off rather tempting, however, risky. “Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t get the chance. We have Potions together but only for a half hour today on account of the other schools arriving.”

The excitement over the tournament took over the school in full. Almost every student went on earnestly about the possible competitors and challenges. Hermione, alternatively, possessed no ability to concentrate on the competition.

“It’d be pretty awkward asking to speak to him directly, especially since he’s always around the other Slytherins.” Although Ginny still found her friend’s affection towards him to be surprising, she figured at least one of them deserved a chance.

“I can’t fathom a single thing to say anyway,” Hermione mentioned. “For all my logic, I’m simply lost when it comes to talking to a boy I’m interested in. And given his foul behavior, I’m better off keeping things as they are. I used to handle myself better, whereas now I’m harrowed by the very thought of seeing him again.”

He drove her crazy. Draco came off arrogant, yet it seemed to be more than that, like he was uniquely talented at getting under her skin. (Not excluding the fact of his proficiency at annoying Harry and Ron too).

Sometimes she thought herself too hard on him, given he was no different than any other teenager, blood status aside, and perhaps she didn’t hate his company if caught in a tolerable mood. Then he tended to prove her positive assumptions wrong by keeping to his typical condescending attitude.

“I’m not one to give advice on the subject, but I believe the correct thing to do is to decide. Either take the risk or let your feelings go.” Ginny stated it simply in spite of personally knowing the difficulties of confronting the choice.

“I can’t keep going back and forth, that much I know.” She dug herself too deep already. Hermione started to grow tired of the unknown, wishing to gain freedom from the conflict. “I just need to think it over, is all.”

Once more gratitude for their friendship made itself known. Confiding in Ginny proved beneficial. Plus, their discussions about either of their crushes led them to additional topics. She loved spending time with Harry and Ron, nevertheless she greatly appreciated the company of another girl.

After getting back inside they agreed to head back to the Great Hall so Hermione could walk to her next class alongside her two friends as per usual. Their topic of discussion drifted to a lighter note along the way.

Not only to preserve the privacy of the subject matter in whole, but also to the point of providing Hermione the space she required without rehashing the problem.

They turned the corner and dé·jà vu hit, having run into Draco again. All three of them came to a quick halt. His eyes met Hermione’s surprised, flushed face. A prolonged stare (which sped up her heartbeat so rapidly it fervently thumped against her chest) followed a swift continuation of strides. He walking around like they were invisible to him. His expression appeared unreadable, almost indifferent.

She turned around, losing sight of him along the corridor. He vanished amid a group of students.

“What am I supposed to make of that?” Hermione questioned, perplexed by Draco’s reaction or lack thereof.

“I’m not entirely sure.” Ginny grabbed hold of her arm, forcing her to keep moving. “If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss them. But I must say, he is acting strange.”

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #harry potter #the goblet of fire #this chapter took longer to write than i thought it would XD #probably because the holiday weekend #and hitting days when i just couldn't write #anyway here's chapter seven #nice comments are always appreciated #sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes

[elfboyeros]

Bridgehid Characters

All of them, This long ass post, is full of Character Information :) *I listed them the way they show up in the story for the most part that's way I'll the kiddos aren't together @jj-pines @lerenee @meowthefluffy **Ask me questions if you want, and if you want an extensive list of likes, dislikes, and hobbies, you'll have to ask, I'm just trying to get the basics in the post. ***Will be making a more in-depth post later about the world, Although for right now I have just listed a few details.

Bridgehid Details:

Bridgehid College of Magic and Alchemy is an institution located on Marquis Island, in the middle of the North Sea, which is why most of the characters are European.

The class is labeled by gemstones instead of years, and well-to-do families are also symbolized with the same system, although a class name and family gemstone will never be the same.

Alchemists and Mages don't hate one another, per se, but often don't get along

Rowan King

16, Origins: Marquis Island, Pronouns: Them/they, nonbinary, human, 5'4 1/2", Queer, Birthday: January 22nd

Rowan once lived at Oceanside Orphanage, with no memory of life beyond age 7, now with a melancholy appearance they are being forced to enroll in the mystical Bridgehid college, for whatever reason, leaving their life at Oceanside to live with new foster parents Indigo and Calvin, a mage professor and blacksmith-healer at Bridgehid college. Despite the apprehension of the adults around them, they want to enroll in college, desperately hoping to find the answers to their questions about their childhood, lost memories, and their deceased mother, Esma.

Facts

Their hair is cut in a style that resembles a jellyfish

They are quick to make friends when enrolling at the college, although they don't understand why

They enjoy gardening

They have yet to think about what they want to study, secretly wanting to learn it all.

They are quite smart, graduating from primary school a few years early, and as valedictorian.

They had known of Indigo and Calvin for many years and met them many times before being placed in their care.

They disliked living in the orphanage because of all the people

Indigo Bookstone-Corals

25, Origins: France, Pronouns: She/her, Cisgender female, nonhuman, 5'2", Bisexual, Birthday: November 25th

Indigo is not only the best friend of Rown's mother but an archmage and Magical fundamentals and history professor. She is the head of the magics department of the college but a reckless French woman who is not to mess with. Asked by Esma to take care of her children if anything happened to her, Indigo now feels inadequate to do so. Although having the help of her loving husband Calvin assists her at her darkest moments. Although the talented woman secretly dreams of a reality where nothing bad can ever happen and she is never bothered, only with her husband, just the two of them all alone.

Facts

Where Indigo enjoys her life as a professor she hates the dean of the college.

She has a familiar, a black cat named Hecate

She was injured in an exam right before graduation which caused scars on her face.

she has "paper thin" skin

She attended college from the age of 10 to the age of 14, although was not meant to graduate at 14, although did give her intelligence and skill in the mage craft.

She has several degrees in English, History, and the magical arts

She was not a normal student while attending the college, only attending classes taught by an older Professor named Neon as she was his appetence while she was in school.

Neon and Indigo have a strand relationship

Calvin is the only man she has ever loved

She also knows witchcraft like her father and aunt.

Indigo has never taken an appetence because she has reserved that place for Rowan

Duke and Her do not get along and she never wished to work under him

She has the goal of "Dethroning" Duke

Calvin Bookstone-Corals

27, Origin: Luxemburg, Pronouns: He/him, Cisgender Male, human, 6'0", pansexual, Birthday: April 30th

Calvin is the college's resident blacksmith and one of the few healers. He's Indigo's husband and acts almost like a big brother or father to the students that he meets. Where he seems like he would be violent and aggressive, he is gentle and kind-hearted. He has had issues with his mother, older sister, and an ex-fiance, which is why he left Luxemburg and chose to travel and live in Marquis. His true concerns lay with Indigo, and where she may not always be in the right he will always be on her side.

Facts

He was attacked the same night Rowan's mother was killed, and he has a large chest scar from the attack

He was in fencing classes when he was younger and enjoys using a fencing sword as a weapon

He is not a mage, although he does know healing magic

He and Indigo got married after knowing each other for 3 months

He also had no intention to get into a relationship when arriving at Marquis Island although his heart had other plans.

He is a pacifist for the most part although if something were to happen to Indigo he would obviously lose his shit.

He made his and Indigo's wedding rings, as well as "promise" rings that register the other's heartbeat

He and Indigo are symbolized by Oynx

He will only take up apprentices for healing magic because he believes that the college needs more healers

Esma King

Deceased, Origin: Ireland, Pronouns: She/her, Cisgender Female, human, 5'6", bisexual, Birthday: October 31st

Before death, Esma was a friend to all, but also an incredible fighter. Studying in natural studies. She was proficient in using magic and alchemy weapons and enlisted to capture and/or kill all of the curse and corrupted creatures on Marquis Island. The night of her death is covered in mystery, all that anyone knows is that she was attack and left behind her child Rowan after asking Indigo a few weeks prior to take care of the child if anything happened.

Facts

The exam Indigo got injured in Esma also took but came out basically unharmed.

Esma had Rowan at a young age

Rowan's father passed away from an unknown illness when they were little, which left Esma devastated as the two of them had dreams of getting married

Esma suspected Duke of something before her death, yet told no one what it could be and believed if she did it would cause her death.

She found alchemy and magic interesting but never wanted to be strictly a mage or an alchemist

She loved Rowan deeply and did everything she could to give them the best childhood. She never had

Duke

???, Origin: ???, Pronouns: he/him, Cisgender Male, ???, 6'1, Gay, Birthday: ???

He is a mysterious man who doesn't get out of his office much and has been the Dean of Bridgehid for years. He seems to but up a happy front, often lying through his teeth and dodging questions. He is hated by both Indigo and Sloan, given the fact that Esma died on his watch.

Facts

He chose Sloan, Percy, and Indigo to become professors at young ages because he admired their skill and intelligence.

He spends most of his time in his office, with Neon

He chooses to make this difficult for others because he finds joy in it

He is symbolized by Moldavite

He and Maverick are related.

Sloan Night

28, Origin: Jamaica, Pronouns: He/him, Cisgender male, human, 6'2", Gay, Birthday: July 7th

Sloan is an alchemy chemist with a gun and the head of the alchemy studies department. He has very few friends and is disliked by his alchemist peers because of course, he's not like the other alchemist. He has his mind on teaching great generations of talented alchemists and keeping an eye on Duke, as an act of revenge for Esma's death as he (and Indigo) deeply believe that Duke had something to do with it He worries about the future a lot and hopes that his friends won't leave him anytime soon.

Facts

Despite, seemingly acting as if he doesn't care about others, he is a big softy

Rather than fight with Duke on everything they disagree on he chooses to hate Duke in silence.

He calls in Indigo love, to show he cares (it's not romantic, he's very gay)

He has only ever had one apprentice, Nemo because those in the past that have tried to be his apprentice have not been fond of Casper being around.

He smokes a pipe (and shares it with Casper)

He got injured in the same exam Indigo did, in which he lost his left eye and gained a large facial scar.

Indigo, Esma, and himself were in the same graduating class the Parisite Class.

Casper Night

35, Origin: Scotland, Pronouns: He/him, Genderfluid, Brownie, 5'11", Gay, Birthday: March 20th

Casper is often simply just Sloan's husband, although is an honorary staff member at the college as he works in the greenhouse, cafeteria, and/or infirmary given his connection to plant and healing magic. He is quiet, choosing to use sign language instead of speaking, although on rare occasions he speaks, although only to Sloan. He is most likely on the arm of his husband as his husband is his safe place.

Facts

He is a household spirit, making him have an extreme want to keep things neat and clean.

He is disliked by most of Sloan's alchemist peers

He gets along with Indigo and Calvin, also much so that they besides his own husband are his favorite people.

He enjoys playing pranks on his friends

His favorite place to sit is by a fireplace, in Sloan's lap, with a cup of cream in his hand.

Georgia Nozadze

16, Origin: Georiga, Pronouns: She/her, Transgender Female, human/Seer, 5'1", Asexual/Aromantic, Birthday: May 7th

Georiga seems to be as golden as the sun, being very cheerful, creative, friendly, and extroverted. She will talk to anyone and everyone about anything! She is from a large and long family line of seers. Although her powers are different from a normal seer's as she can see the past of those she touches and not the future. She wants to become a mage that is on the same level as Indigo but desperately wants to travel the world, wishing to take her grandmother back home to Georgia.

Facts:

She has many older and younger siblings, she has 12 siblings and at home, she has seventeen family members in total.

She doesn't touch people without asking first so as to not see their past, but sometimes it can be helped.

She wanted to become friends with Rowan because she taught they looked cool.

She enjoys painting and is in the art club with Maverick

Georgia and Maverick went to the same primary school and became quick friends

She wants to be Indigo's apprentice but always gets told no

her golden eye pendant was given to her by her grandmother

Elias Hoedemaker

17, Origin: Marquis Island, Pronouns: He/him, Cisgender male, human, 5'10", Omnisexual, Birthday: August 24th

Elias is an inspiring magus clothing seamstress, following in the family's footsteps of making magical equipment. Favored over his twin brother Geronimo, Elias is seen as the golden child, the firstborn son after two daughters, and is actively continuing the family legacy of making magical equipment. Although he is choosing to do what he was, picking fashion, instead of making bullets.

Facts:

He is aware of Nemo's reservations about their relationship with each other given how their parents are and makes an attempt to keep his distance while also always being there for Nemo.

He enjoys photography, always has his camera, and is on the Bridgehid yearbook committee.

He overthinks always, and worries about everyone he cares about.

He is in the Natural studies pathway

He and Nemo's family is symbolism by pearls, which is why everyone in the family has pearl necklaces

He may or may not develop a crush on Rowan right after getting to know them for the first time.

he is seeming very popular but keeps to his small friend group of Georiga, Nemo, Maverick, and now Rowan

Geronimo "Nemo" Hoedemaker

17, Origin: Marquis Island, Pronouns: He/him, Cisgender male, human, 5'10", Gay, Birthday: August 24th

Call him Nemo, never call him Geronimo! The youngest Hoedemaker twin, he is angry, not at the world, but at his family. His birth was a shock, his mother had no clue she would have twins. So his parents have cast him aside, and yet he is expected to hold up the family name. His overarching goals is to run as far way from his family legacy and become one of the best alchemist he can be to be a positive rolemodel for his baby sister.

Facts:

Despite resenting his brother, he deeply cares for him

He wears the pearl (which symbolizes his family as stated earlier) as more of a fuck you to his parents, it's his way of saying I'm here and part of this whether you like it or not

He is Sloan's appearance

He taught himself how to play piano

He started going by Nemo when he told Maverick one day that he hated his name, so Maverick, out of respect started calling him Nemo. (That's also when he realized he was in love with Maverick)

He is not in any clubs but is a ghost member of the music club, and is often found in the music and art room playing the piano when he is not training.

Maverick Hansen

18, Origin: Marquis Island, Pronouns: He/they, Transgender male, 5'6" Fae, Gay, Birthday: September 3rd

Maverick is a troubled soul. Coming from a long line of excellent mages, although he doesn't want to be a mage. Maverick wishes to be a healer and help others. Although the fact that he doesn't want o to follow in the family's footsteps has caused extreme tension within his family. Lucky for him, he is living in the dorms giving him an easier way to not associate with a large name of his family members.

Facts:

He is Calvin's apprentice.

His family is symbolized by an Opal, yet he does not associate with the opal

He is in the new semester graduating class, the Emerald Class

He is enrolled in the natural studies pathway

He is in the art club and enjoys using pencils and chorocals

Georgia was his first friend and is now his best friend.

Maverick met Nemo when Nemo kept getting sent to the infirmary

Percy Kowalski

27, Origin: Poland, Pronoun: She/they, Agender, human, but corrupted but alchemy and magic, 5'7", Demisexual, Birthday: May 3rd

Percy is the head of the Natural Studies department of the college. Often seen as rude, and said to be very no-nonsense, Percy is just tired. Used as a human experience when she was young permanently cursed her with octopus tentacles instead of legs. Which one is extremely close to them, Percy does care about those around them, especially their students, and will get involved when something is not right.

Facts:

Percy and Indigo have a love-hate relationship with each other that is based on concern and intrigue.

They teach Biology and Chemistry.

They see no point in taking on apprentices

She is a talented alchemist

She does think of Calvin, Casper, Sloan, and even Indigo as good friends.

Neon

Immortal, Origins: England, Pronouns: Any and All, Masculine/Male presenting, nonhuman, 5'9", Gay, Birthday: February 29th.

Neon is a man that chooses to stay hidden. Once a magics professor that had all of his students wanting to be his apprentice during the semester is now a distant legend. Although he shows up every once and a while either entering the dean's office or at social events, oddly enough beside Duke.

Facts:

Indigo was his last apprentice, and he considers her one of his most talented students.

He only really cares about himself and is on the side that best serves him, he is not evil but not good either.

He's a bottom

He knows both Alchemy and Magic but enjoys being a mage over an alchemist.

He is a necromancer

He is symbolized by a black diamond

Amethea, Antoinette, and Finnian Corals

Amethea: 45, Origins: Korea, Pronouns: She/Her, Cisgender Female, nonhuman, 5'3", Bisexual, Birthday: June 27th Antoinette: 47, Origins: France, Pronouns: She/her, Cisgender female, nonhuman, 5'11", Lesbian, Birthday: March 18th Finnian: 47, Origins: France, Pronouns: he/him, Cisgender male, nonhuman, 5'11", Omnisexual, Birthday: March 18th

When it comes to these three there is no reason not to have them together. Indigo's parents and aunt are incredibly minor characters within the story of Bridgehid. Amethea and Finnian always help out around the College, and Antoinette is the resident librarian.

Amethea often works within the college's greenhouse and infirmary as a botanist and herbalist, often keeping herself away from danger do to her delicacy. She is a woman who acts to keep herself from harm, acting as if she is oblivious and a bit of an airhead, which makes her seem unintelligent. Yet, Amethea is a smart and observant woman and often hears a ton of gossip within the college walls.

Antoinette is an extremely playful and sassy Frenchwoman, who not only has a talent for witchcraft but a talent for clothes-making. She of course is the college's librarian and causes mischief not only on her brother, niece, and sister-in-law but on some of the students as well.

Finnian is a man in love with architecture and talent witch, often assists the college with building projects and repairs. He is the smiling face in a room full of frowns and is a loving and caring romantic. His true concerns will always lay on the side of his family as center rumors paint the whole of the Corals family in a horrible light.

Facts:

Amethea curse herself (and made herself extremely sick) when she was younger when using magic and then witchcraft for the first time, which caused her hands to turn a purple death color which is why she always wears gloves, in public.

Antoinette is in love with Amethea, although is perfectly fine with her being with Finnian because if Amethea was not with Finnian, Indigo would not exist.

Finnian and Antoinette are hotheaded.

Finnian hates being lied to, and the person that has lied to him has been Amethea

The Corals family is presented by the Ruby gemstone

Amethea dislikes most alchemists because "they smell like industry" although she adores Sloan and moreover Casper.

#ocs #bridgehid #bridgehid secrets #original characters #orginal work #character information