#and withdrew from the class i was taking this quarter so that i could give myself time to grieve | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emile-hides · 3 years

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H*lding H*nds Imagines

I am once again making content for me and me alone because I have an unhealthy obsession for BNHA blond boys

BNHA Blond Boys X GN!Reader h*nd h*lding moments

Characters: All Might, Present Mic, Fatgum, Twice, Aoyama, Ojiro, Kaminari, Bakugo, Honenuki, Monoma, Mirio

All Might

Knuckle brush

You handed him things before

Stacks of papers to grade, coffee after a long day, a napkin when he goes into a coughing fit

But something about this time turns his face a deep red

He withdrew quickly, in a jerking manner that dragged more attention than you’re sure he meant it to

He cleared this throat and thanked you quietly before shuffling off

It took a few moments to really set on you

You’d made contact

Such little contact you’d barely even felt it

He was cold, his skin rough and calloused, wrinkled and dry

How you managed to notice so much with such brief contact is astounding

And also incomparable to how much he noticed

He’s thinking about it all day, glancing at where the contact was made, shuffling, flushing to himself, holding his knuckles to his lips

Do it on purpose next time you hand him a stack of papers and he’ll drop them

Present Mic

In a crowd

It’s LOUD

You and Hizashi are trying to get home after a live show

The crowd is huge and still hyped from the concert

The quarters are tight, the space is limited, and without his towering hair spike it’s hard to keep track of your loud blond

Eventually a strong clasp from a hand horribly decorated in rings, fingerless gloves, and black nail polish claps on your wrist as your continued to be pulled though a crowd

When the world finally starts to calm and you have room to breath his hand slides to connect to your palm

Fingers intertwine with yours as a series of “Y’all good?”s start, followed quickly by an excited narration of the chaos that just ensued

He’d taken your hand so causally you barely even noticed

The two of you walked in a much calmer crowd, hand in hand, as Hizashi randomly picked bystanders out of his vocal range and made up their life stories to tell you

Fatgum

Big hands

You laid idly on the couch in Fatgum’s office, the interns long sense gone home

A pile of paperwork blocked your view of your hard working hero as he sat at his desk

You slumped and slid off the couch, boredom rising as you phone lie dead on the table nearby

A loud groan drives a “Just a bit longer, gumdrop” from behind the piles of unfinished work, a bit longer could be years for all you cared

Sliding across the hardwood floor on your back, you found yourself beside Taishiro’s desk, looking up at him from an angle you were rather use to

He was focused, with a smile still on his face as he worked, writing with one hand, the other causually turning Takoyaki in the grill built into his desk

You sat up, watching quietly. He was typically pretty observant, but he may not yet have noticed your approach

When his hand stopped turning and released, you took your chance

Both your hands snatched his wrist, sitting up a bit to rest yourself on his lap, you examined his large palm

He chuckled, “What’cha doin’, cupcake?”

His hand was massive in your own, enough to make anyone feel like a child. It could engulf you, hold half your torso and still have a pinkie to spare

You pressed on his palm, he hummed and returned to work, leaving you to admire as you pleased

His knuckles were scarred, several gashes and scrapes from punching at materials harder than even his fat could handle

Old burns from cooking, white spots on his finger tips from a time before he learned patients

You leaned back on him, holding his hand in your own, and watched him work

He seemed much more blissed from your company

Twice

Not enough hands

Jin’s a very physical person

He hangs off you every chance he can get, coddling and loving on you

He finds it annoying

So it’s not surprise as you two settled down for a movie night he was instantly on your lap like a cat

He lays over you like a blanket, limbs tangled every which way, head on your chest, looking at you more than the movie

One of your hands lay idly by your head, that one he has his own over, fingers tangled messily, almost uncomfortably

His other arm trapped under you, a hug from below, resting also uncomfortably against your spine

Leaving your free hand to tangle in his hair, a rare sight to have his mask off, though it probably wouldn’t last the whole movie, it should be cherished until then

When you notice his staring at you more than the screen, you choose to join him

You slide your hand from his hair to his cheek, he leans into it with the most lovestruck puppydog look a man his age could muster

He then starts to fidget around, moving like he’s stuck

It doesn’t take long from there for him to start getting frustrated with himself, splitting an argument for two between just him

You gently lift his head to regain eye contact and ask what’s wrong

He nearly starts crying

“I want to hold your cheek too but I don’t have enough hands!!”

He’s not willing to remove your hand from his hold or pull his other arm out from under you to compromise his own needs

He does eventually start crying over his lack of extra limbs to love you with

Aoyama

Standing ovation

Roaring applause rippled thought the auditorium

It wasn’t a big show, or a big stage, but it was your first written play, and seeing it go over so well was enough to bring a tear to your eyes

You joined the audience in standing to applause as the actors took the stage for the final bow

Only the lead, your star, wasn’t there with them

You blinked once, twice, three times before panic set in

There’s no way Yuga Aoyama would miss the chance to stand center stage in a spotlight. If he wasn’t on stage something must have happened

You tried your best not to look around too fervently, not wanting to startle anyone else

When a hand clasped yours

“And let’s not forget the playwright~✨”

Before you could question how he said that with his mouth, you were dragged onto the stage by your previously mentioned star, with his own mic in hand you don’t remember giving him

He held your arm up above his head as he runway walked his way along the stage, you closely in toe

You were going to go on stage eventually but you’d planned to be a lot more quiet about it, when more people had left early not wanting to sit though the applause

But instead, here you were, center stage, hand held high like you’d just won a boxing match by your own and only Aoyama

How he could stand being this bright all the time way beyond you

For now though, it was rather nice

Ojiro

Lost and found

You stepped out of your class stretching, ready for a well deserved lunch break when you heard your classmates muttering

“Isn’t he from the hero course?”

“What’s he doing?”

Being nosy wasn’t usually your strong suit, but the mutterings has peaked your interest

You followed the eyes of those speaking to find a blond boy sitting in the floor of the hall, knees pulled to his chest to keep his legs from disrupting the flow of traffic, with his tail resting over his feet to protect them from being stepped on

He smiled and gave a light wave to your class as the dispersed

You alone approached him, curiosity peaking. Why was he sitting out here in the hall?

When question he very sheepishly answered, “I, uh.. I got lost on my way to class”

There was several things wrong with that

Number one being, he’d been at this school half a year now. He has one classroom, a big classroom, in the hero course. It’s not easy to miss??

Number two, it was noon. Lunchtime. He has one classroom. How long had he been lost???

These questions had answers and he was, while slightly embarrassed, happy to share he had, in fact, been lost all morning. Not just in finding his class, but also in finding the exit to the building, any teachers he knew, or his phone to call for help

You began to feel sorry for the guy, as this seemed to be a common occurrence in his daily life

With a sigh, you offered your hand to help him up

It was lunch, for all courses, so surely he’d see his hero course classmates in the cafeteria. No one turns up Lunchrush’s food after all

He smiled and took your hand, lifting himself from the floor with a thankyou

“I’m Ojiro, by the way. You are...?”

He was rather polite to talk to the entire walk, his grip on your hand was soft, gentle, and his smile never seemed to waver

Kaminari

Swing yer partner round and round

“Oh this is my JAM!”

Mina excitedly turned up your shitty little radio before kicking herself up off the floor, grabbing Sero all in one quick motion

The two danced horribly off beat, you quickly guess Mina had never heard this song before in her life, just wanted to get moving

“Come on you two, it’s dance break time!”

You found yourself enraptured with her energy, already forgetting the homework you all were doing

Kaminari took your hand much like how Mina took Sero’s and began to dance just as off beat and spuratic as queen pinkie had

You laughed, stumbling with every step, same as the others, the giggling energy filling a previously silent room

Denki’s fingers dug into your knuckles as he smirked, suddenly spinning on his heel and dragging you with him

The two of you became a tornado in your tiny dorm room, barely keeping from knocking into your tea table as you spun like a couple of children

You could hear Mina cheer and laugh, a brief glanced told you Sero was recording this silly moment

You looked across the way at your dance partner

Spinning, laughing his head off like this was the most fun he’d ever had, eyes closed, caring not for his surroundings

You decided to let go

The momentum sent you both toppling, you safely into Mina, who was more then ready to catch you

Denki got the much less desirable aforementioned tea table, which sent him toppling backwards over the also aforementioned homework

If you all could have laughed any louder, you would

Bakugo

Sweaty hands

You always knew when Bakugo was going to hold your hand

He may think he’s smooth, wiping his hand on the pocket of his pants before reaching behind himself to grab at you

But you’d always notice

It was a good indicator you were walking too slow for his liking, or the area up ahead was crowed, or that he simply felt you were too far away

You couldn’t initiate holding hands, when he didn’t actively want to be in contact he’d keep his hands shoved deep in his pockets

So you just had to wait for him to wipe himself off and reach for you

You were free to wrap yourself around his arm whenever, though

He’ll look pissed, but won’t say a word

And if you move away, he’ll wipe his hand on his pants, and offer it to you, a silent plea for you to come back

Honenuki

Magic hands

You stretched out over the couch of the 1-B common room with a whine, the rest of your class in a similar state

Training was hell today, sparing with class 1-A was never a joke, and with Monoma egging the whole game up to be more than it should have been, it all just escalated to a point you all wish it hadn’t

“Alright, next.”

Honenuki, a godsend, your blessed angel, helped Tsuburaba off the second common room couch, his typically wide eyes closed and relaxed as he wobbled his way across the room

You happily took his place, stretching out on your stomach before your classmate with the magic powers of massage

His hands pressed into your back and you instantly relaxed, letting out a low hum as you snuggled the pillow under your chin

Honenuki returned your hum, his hands pressing into all your tenses spots, almost instantly releasing them from their knots

You’d probably have fallen asleep, if it wasn’t over so fast

He had the entire class to get though after all, though he hated to rush an art form

You took his hand as he helped you stand, the actual minute of his touch enough to wobble your legs

Kissing his knuckle and thanking him for sharing his magic, you found yourself plopped peacefully on the couch beside Tsuburaba

Honenuki chuckled at you as he called next, happy to be of service

Monoma

He’s showing off

You’d known for a while now Monoma didn’t know how to shut the fuck up

He’d brag about anything, over anyone, to everyone

He’d always loudly bragged about how much better his class was, how much stronger his friendships were, how absolutely amazing his partner was

You being said partner didn’t make said bragging less annoying

The two of you had been together less than an hour and he was already boasting about your perfection to all who would hear

Some genuine, loving, almost gaggingly sweet comments

Others just to rub it in the face of class 1-A as much as possible

A week into this relationship and people were starting to think you must be come kind of god with how Monoma spoke about you

You’d been on two dates with the guy

Now here you were, holding his hand on the walk to class, and regretting every step

As every single person who passed must take note of the fact you were holding his hand

And also must be aware how blessed he is to be holding your hand in return

And really you started to understand the concerned look Kendo gave you when you told her you’d agreed to date Neito Monoma

Still his words were genuine, no matter how they came across, and he truly had a million and one things to say about you

So you could hold though the embarrassment his overexcited bragging may cause

He just wants to show you off

Mirio

Quietly

You sat by his bed side, holding gently to his limp hand

Moments ago he was inconsolable, crying and screaming his lungs out

His quirk gone

His teacher gone

Everything he worked so hard for seemed to vanish in an instant

His grip, still so strong, had left your hand bruised, circulation cut off

It wasn’t a concern you really had

Sleeping, his pain was still so obvious

Bags under his eyes, dried streaks of tears still down his keeps

And your hand still tightly gripped in his

What would happen next, where he would go, who you all would become

They were all problems for the future

Tomorrow you could work on a solution

Tonight, you could hold his hand

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pillow-anime-talk · 3 years

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missed shot.

synopsis: Boys lose a point when they unexpectedly see you.

# tags: headcanons; current relationships & crush culture; comedy; fluff; a little bit of romance; boys are simps for you and you are a huge fan of them!; sfw

includes: female reader ft. taiga kagami, ryouta kise, tatsuya himuro, kotarou hayama, shouichi imayoshi & midorima shintarou {knb}

— TAIGA

↘ You are a bit late, but you arrived at the Seirin vs. Josei game safe and sound! You also took a seat upstairs to get a better view of the all players.

↘ You arrived just as Kiyoshi knocked the ball from his opponent’s hand and passed it to Izuki. You immediately crossed your fingers when the ball was passed to Kuroko and then to Kagami. You grinned when the tall basketball player jumped high to dunk.

↘ “Kagami-kun! Win it!” You screamed as loud as you could, waving your arms to cheer for him even better.

↘ Anyway, because of your voice echoing around the gym, Taiga lost his concentration for a moment and at the same time found you at the stands.

↘ His heart was beating much faster than it should, and a big smile appeared on his face, seeing that the girl with he is in love with came to support him.

↘ Unfortunately, his inattention resulted in hitting the hoop and losing the ball. Also a bit of laughter from you spread around the gym, making his cheeks as red as his hair and eyes.

↘ “S-Sorry!” He shouted to the rest of the team, then looked back at you. “The next throw will be successful! I p-promise!”

— RYOUTA

↘ You came on Kise’s matches almost always as his best and only female friend. Unfortunately, you had to go to the dentist that day, so you came a bit late for the Winter Cup match between Kaijou High and Fukuda Sougou Academy.

↘ Luckily, your friend kept you a free seat in the first stand until then, so you could watch the last quarter.

↘ “Ryouta! Don’t give up, you can win this game with the team!” Your scream reverberated between the quieter conversations that commented on the point difference between the players.

↘ Your happy and supporting voice immediately reached the blonde boy who was copying Aomine’s moves.

↘ However, as it is easy to guess, instead of dunk the ball, he withdrew his hands and once again he stopped on the floor looking for your figure.

↘ As soon as he found you, he waved his hand at you and then spun the ball on his finger, smiling widely. “This point is dedicated to you, Y/Ncchi! Just look at me and only me!”

↘ This time, Kise didn’t flinch from the perfect dunk that you cheered loudly at.

— TATSUYA

↘ Your super popular boyfriend has a basketball training with the rest of the Yosen team, and you, as a good girlfriend, came to support him and take him to sushi after training.

↘ You entered the gym very quietly, immediately walking up to trainer Araka and greeting her with soft smile. The woman nodded at you and asked if you finished class and if you came for Himuro. Of course, you confirmed her questions right away, laughing under your breath and saying that you would take him on a date after training. (Yosen coach had a relationship with you like a big sister and a little sister, so she was very eager to talk with you about random things.)

↘ “... Tatsuya!” You shouted to the jumping boy who was just taking his ‘mirage shot’ above another player. The seventeen-year-old glanced in your direction and you waved to him softly. “We’ll go on a date after your training, so you’d better kick everyone’s ass, Tatsu!” You added in an amused tone to which even Masako reacted with laughter.

↘ Of course, your presence, noticed by the black-haired student, made him throw the ball very imprecise so the consequence was didn’t score the desired three points.

↘ “Muro-chin, focus, please...” Murasakibara muttered at his friend and the other snorted under his breath.

↘ “I’ll get another one. Pass me the next ball.” He replied low, then looked at you again, waving you back.

— KOTAROU

↘ You just arrived at the sports hall to support your boyfriend during the match between Rakuzan and Shuutoku. Of course you had with you a cute banner in your boyfriend’s team colors and with his name, which you quickly took out of your black, leather bag.

↘ A few minutes passed before a foreign voice announced a ten-minute warm-up for both teams. You smiled warmly seeing your man bursting with energy.

↘ “Hey, Kotarou-kun!” You screamed, immediately meeting his insane gaze. “Give your best, baby!”

↘ “Of course, I will!” He answered you just as loudly. “Look at this, Y/N-chan!” He added with a big smile, preparing to throw...

↘ ... which he missed. Oof.

↘ Akashi looked at him with a raised eyebrow. The rest of the team and you too.

↘ “OHHHH, YES. I GET IT, BOYS. LOOK THIS TIME, Y/N-CHAN! IT’S FOR YOU. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!”

↘ This time he hit perfectly, which is why you held your banner high, laughing happily.

— SHOUICHI

↘ Imayoshi decided to stay a bit longer on training and practice the three-point shooting. The gym was empty, so he had time to himself.

↘ You, on the other hand, passed Ryou in the school corridor, whom you warmly greeted and asked where Shouichi was. The shy sixteen-year-old immediately squeaked that the shooter decided to stay in the hall longer than everyone else.

↘ That’s why you went to the mentioned place as quickly as possible and very quietly you entered the big building, watching the tall basketball player aim at the hoop.

↘ During the throw you coughed softly and smiled. “Shou-kun when you will done with practice, maybe we’ll come to our houses together?” You spoke tenderly, catching the brunet’s attention.

↘ A second later, the ball bounced off the ring after a while and fell to the ground without scoring a point. The captain hissed and looked at your figure again, sighing.

↘ “Y/N.” He grumble with a smile and you walk slowly towards him, adjusting the bag full of books. “Yes, I’d love to come back with you. Sit down and don’t bother me for another half hour, thanks.” He added gently, looking away from your cute, pouty face.

↘ “Are you blushing?” You asked, smiling. “Don’t worry Shouichi, I won’t tell anyone about this missed shot, I promise.” You added, showing thumbs up.

↘ The problem is that the boy didn’t blush because of a missed throw, but because you, his crush, saw it.

— SHINTAROU

↘ Your boyfriend was just during in the first match of the Winter Cup final, and of course you wanted to surprise him, although the green head forbade you to come.

↘ You took one of the few free seats in the nearest stand and starts looked for Midorima. The boy was just aiming for a basket from halfway the court, and you smiled at it.

↘ You rarely saw your boyfriend play the basketball, so you were counting on a good and fair game.

↘ Nevertheless, you wanted to let Shintarou know that you are here for him.

↘ “Honey! Win it! I love you so much!” You screamed out loud, in the middle of a throw who...

↘ ... barely fell into the basket, making the entire Shuutoku team inhale loudly into their lungs. Midorima felt a unpleasant chills run down his spine as he looked in your direction. You waved at him and he adjusted his glasses, sighing under his nose.

↘ The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile, and he nodded, taking the lead of 40 points for his team (and for you, cute) during the game.

↘ Then, of course, he scolded you, telling you not to come on his matches again because you distracted him, but you couldn’t promise that.

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carryonmywaywardcaptain · 3 years

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You Have My Word

Pairing: Prince!Dean x handmaiden!reader

Summary: As Lady Charlie’s handmaiden, Prince Dean would surely never be interested in you...right?

WC: ~2,050

Warnings: floof, mutual pining, smidge of angst (i.e. self-worth, social class, forbidden love)

Square filled: Going horse riding for @spnmixedbingo

A/N: This was supposed to be a quick drabble to get some of my medieval feels out, but here we are. I was getting impatient with the Knight!Dean oneshot I’m working on and I whipped this out in one go, so please be gentle! Gifs by @lightjenvlp and @saneves-fan

“Y/N!” Lady Charlie called.

You carefully placed the last of her garments in the wardrobe and hurried to her side.

“Yes, My Lady?”

She spotted you in the reflection of her mirror, fussing with her hair a moment longer before she turned on her seat to face you. She quirked an eyebrow and pressed her lips into a thin line. “Is that what you’ve chosen to wear today?”

You glanced at your attire and sheepishly met her eyes. “Are they not to your liking? I can gather something else from my quarters, if it would please you.”

“No, no—they will do.” She pursed her lips as she appraised you. “Just...a few small adjustments.”

Lady Charlie dragged you back toward her wardrobe, wearing a sly grin as she kneeled to rummage through the contents you had yet to organize. Before you could offer your help, she soon withdrew a bundle of fabric and rose to her feet again.

“Put this on.”

Your eyes grew wide, beholding the luxurious cloth she extended toward you. It was a forest green cloak, as rich and vibrant as foliage after a gentle summer rain. The velvet material was soft and elegant, unlike the coarse, tattered fabrics that comprised most of your clothes.

“I-I cannot wear this.”

“It is a gift that belongs to you. Surely you would not refuse an item, carefully hand-crafted by my request?”

“Of course not, Lady Charlie.”

Despite your qualms, you donned the garment as she had asked. The delicate material cascaded down your shoulders and over your figure, with the seam barely grazing the floor. It was the perfect length, and more breathtaking than anything you had ever owned.

After she adjusted your hair, she took a step back and regarded you with a manner of pride. “Lovely.”

“It is,” you answered softly, in awe of your appearance. “My Lady, I cannot accept this. It is much too—”

“Enough. You have been my trusted and devoted handmaiden for some time. It is the least I can do to demonstrate my thanks. Now, I need you to go to the stables and run my horse.”

“Your horse?”

“Off you go!”

Without another word, she guided you out of her chambers before promptly closing the door.

You began weaving your way through the maze of corridors, feeling slightly absurd in your new garments. Despite your loyalty to Lady Charlie over the years, you were simply fulfilling your duties. You didn’t dare reject such a generous gift, but you were certainly unfit to wear such a precious item—even if it was a beautiful token of gratitude.

Lost in your thoughts, you entered the stables and flinched back in surprise when you nearly collided with Prince Dean.

“My apologies, Your Highness! Please forgive my carelessness.”

Prince Dean bowed slightly and winked at you. He wore a white linen tunic, whose deep neckline revealed an enticing glimpse of his chest. The crow’s feet that framed his emerald eyes were further etched into his skin by his bright smile.

“You are, of course, already forgiven. Is that a new cloak?”

“It is, My Lord. A gift from Lady Charlie.”

“It suits you well.”

“T-thank you, My Lord.”

You could feel the warmth rising in your cheeks from his compliment, making you turn from his unwavering gaze. You admired everything about the Prince and, on most occasions, it was difficult to conceal how you felt about him.

Aside from being the most handsome man you had ever laid eyes upon, he was also noble, charming, and kind. A courageous warrior, yet a fair and just leader. He cared deeply for the people of his kingdom, and treated every individual with grace and respect, regardless of their social class. You were sure that, one day, he would be a great king.

Alas, the very qualities you admired about him were precisely why the two of you would never be together. Despite the adoring gleam you sometimes imagined when he looked at you, he was the future King of Lebanon, and you were nothing more than a meager servant.

“Are you ready?” he inquired.

“My Lord?”

As Prince Dean strode away, you noticed two horses already saddled and waiting. His breathtaking chestnut companion tossed its head and whinnied as he approached. You watched as he greeted the stallion with a low and soothing voice, gently stroking its neck before he gathered the reins from the stable boy. When the Prince began making his way back, you realized the other horse was the dapple gray mare you had been instructed to exercise.

“How did you know I was to run Lady Charlie’s horse?”

He shrugged, but a mischievous smile tugged at his lips. “I know my sister well.”

Keeping the horses steady, he helped you clumsily mount before he climbed onto his own steed. The two of you departed from the stables, chatting with one another and nodding at townspeople as you trotted through the cobblestone streets of the kingdom. A few of his trusted knights followed close behind—their presence making you consider how difficult it must be for the Royal Family never to have any privacy.

As you passed through the gates, entering the rolling meadows just beyond the castle walls, the Prince halted and addressed his men.

“Leave us and stick to the perimeter. We shall return in an hour.” Once the knights had dispersed, he turned to you with a smile that aroused a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. “Care for a little friendly competition?”

Without a word, you smirked and snapped the reins to send your Lady’s horse into a gallop. His faint laughter faded until it was masked by the sound of another thunderous pair of hooves quickly approaching. Your cloak billowed behind you, whipping in the wind, much like the banners of Lebanon during a storm.

The two of you raced through the pastures, laughing and taunting one another for some time before the Prince finally slowed his horse. Following his lead, you prompted the mare to trot alongside him until you reached a wooded area.

“What are you doing?” you asked as he dismounted.

“There is a small stream ahead, just off of the path. The horses will need a drink before I best my sister’s steed and rider again.”

You scoffed, shaking your head in amusement as you carefully slid from your saddle. “We must get you to the physician when we return to the castle, My Lord. It would seem you are not well, for it was your horse who was bested—anyone with eyes would have seen that.”

He chuckled, leading the way down a mild slope as you guided the animals to the edge of the stream. “Fortunately for us, it seems it is your word against mine. What ruling do you suppose the court would come to?”

“And here I believed you to be a man of integrity,” you teased. “How nice it must be to have everything you want handed to you.”

While admiring the landscape, brimming with trees and shrubbery that skirted the brook, you patted the mare’s neck. A pleasant silence settled over the two of you, though you had anticipated the Prince retaliating with a clever remark of his own. You peeked at him over your shoulder, noting that he seemed preoccupied as he stared at the ground. As if he could sense your curious eyes, he looked up at you with a meaningful expression.

“I would argue I am not awarded everything I want…”

He gazed at you intently, closing the distance until his face was mere inches from your own. He slowly raised his hand, hovering just out of reach as he gauged your reaction. When you did not object, he gently traced his fingertips along your jaw.

“I find that difficult to believe,” you whispered, letting your eyes flutter closed.

Feeling the warmth of his calloused hand against your cheek, you instinctively leaned into his touch. He began rubbing his thumb back and forth along your cheekbone, coaxing you to look at him again. You heeded his silent request, finding his emerald eyes full of such longing that they seemed to pierce your very soul. He stole a glance at your lips, tentatively watching for any sign of protest as he bowed his head. Unable to resist the spellbinding force luring you toward him, you leaned forward until your lips finally met.

For such a hardy and powerful man, his kiss was surprisingly tender. His lips molded to yours, soft and unhurried. Your hands, unwittingly anchored on his broad chest, rose as he drew in a deep breath. You sighed in return, giving him the opportunity to explore your mouth with his eager tongue. Just as you began to feel breathless and weak from his impassioned touch, you pushed away from him and stumbled backward when a sudden wave of conflicting emotions swelled inside of you.

Prince Dean’s hand chased after you, lingering in the space you had occupied mere seconds ago. “I… My apologies if I was too forward.”

“No, My Lord, the mistake was mine. I should not have come all the way out here. It was careless and I will see myself back to the castle at once.”

As you rushed toward the horses, he sidestepped and planted himself in your path. “If that is what you wish, then I will happily escort you back. But, I must confess…I wish that you would stay.”

You gaped at him, knowing someone like him would surely never enjoy the company of someone like you. But as you searched his face for any hint of deceit, all you could find was sincerity behind his words. In truth, he seemed disheartened by the thought of you leaving.

“I can assure you that you did not take advantage. But we should not be here. If anyone were to see us—”

“Then let them see.”

“You are a prince! Not just any prince—the Crown Prince. The rightful heir to the Throne of Lebanon. One day you will be King and...” You trailed off, noticing his halfhearted smile.

“Are you simply listing my titles, or is there reason behind your speech?”

“You are royalty, My Lord. I am only a servant.”

He grew serious as he cradled your face in his hands. “You say that as if it is something shameful. If my sister had not been graced with you as her handmaiden, I might have lived my entire life without ever knowing you.”

When your trembling hand sought his chest, he captured it eagerly and clutched it to his heart. His words steadily chipped away at your resolve, but you maintained your feeble argument, knowing there could be consequences for both of you.

“The King would never allow you to be with the likes of me.”

“My father may have rule over the Kingdom, but that does not mean his word dictates my actions.”

“Does it not? He may be your father, but he is also the King. You know better than anyone that his word is law.”

He smiled fondly at you and pressed his lips to your forehead. “Perhaps some laws are meant to be mended.”

“What would you have us do? Meet in secret?” you asked quietly.

“If that would make you comfortable, for the time being. Lady Charlie has already proven to be a worthy ally.”

“You mean to say she helped arrange this?” You tilted your head with a furrowed brow.

“Though I wish I could accept a portion of the credit, the entire outing was her doing. I believe the words ‘coward’ and ‘dollophead’ were tossed around when she told me of her plan. It seems she was irritated that I had not yet acted on my affections,” he chuckled.

“Well, I suppose if My Lady insists…”

The Prince grinned, tangling one hand in your hair as he moved the other to your waist. You circled your arms around his shoulders as he hugged you close and kissed you once more.

“I will find a way for us to be together,” he murmured against your lips. “You have my word.”

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dannineedsfriends · 4 years

Text

I'm so sorry for this - I originally wasn't going to post but I feel obligated to give some content, even if it isn't much. All I can say is that I tried and hopefully I'll get back on track soon.

Words: 1238

Trigger warning: sadness, sex euphemisms/innuendos

Waking up next to him never truly felt right.

It was cold, and even with his arms around her, Catherine felt so displaced, so out of her body. The place in his arms that she was filling was supposed to be occupied by another; anyone - anyone other than her so that she could stay alone in her room.

Her room felt better, with all of its pages and candles, the pale grey paper that lined the walls felt much more comfortable than stale cream of his ever did. When she craved touch, she returned to her desk, to continue her endless scrawl, her search, her letters for something just beyond her reach. Something too complex to fathom.

Love.

Was it truly love that she felt when she lusted to be in his bed? Was it love that drew her back to his quarters no matter how hard she willed herself not? Was it love at all? -or was it just sadness.

Perhaps it was the sadness that reeled her back to him, the leaching demon of her self expression lurking just past the doors of moving on, waiting to pounce and reduce her to the shell of a woman, of a girl, that she was once before. The sadness, her best friend, her worst enemy. The one that consoled her on the nights in cold sheets, the one to wrap its arms around her and let her cry until she could no more, her only company in her life spent lonely.

Catherine saw it in the shadows, even on the days with the brightest, scorching blaze of day whenever she withdrew to the shade, the irking doubt came waltzing in, taking her hand and dancing with her fragile hope until the break of dawn.

That was until she met the girl with the sun in her smile.

Anne Boleyn was a girl she met when she tumbled through the doors, 15 minutes after the lecture had started on the first day. She was rather petite, having thrown herself into the seat next to Catherine, hoping (and succeeding) in taking the notes that were within the taller girl's books.

It was a tradition that she was late, Parr was the find out. That was why she was never scolded, or reprimanded, because her consistent high grade compensated for her absence. And each day, one after the other, she sacrificed her notes to the feisty girl, watching her as she desperately paraphrased her sentences in an immaculate effort to catch up.

She had nice handwriting, too. It was strange - but Catherine would love to have as good a penmanship as she did. Though frantic, her letters and formation remained uniform, a constant through the distress.

Parr found herself confiding in this girl, exchanging contacts, sliding her post-its with soft grins.

The way Anne's pen formed her name made her stomach sink and her toes curl, and her voice when she had begun her expedition for permission to call her 'Cathy'.

Soon after granting her the title, the Cathy disappeared, and it was replaced with mon cœur, most often. Sometimes mon amour, ma chérie, if Anne was feeling nice.

That was what had brought her to Anne's flat, to where she lived alone, sustaining herself on microwaveable food, her studies and her art work.

One of the more prominent features of Anne's environment was that it was covered in art, paintings and sketches and intricate linings of silhouettes and figures. The coverings beneath didn't particularly matter because the walls were full of life: they told the story of Boleyn.

"What does this one mean?" Parr asks, one day, voice low and gentle, not wanting to rouse the other girl too much. There's a soft swish of air before she appears next to her, a grin peaking her lips. The painting was of a tree, large and bulky and streaking down the page. Strokes of paint are large and blotchy, though only the tree; the remaining scenery, the entire left side of the page, was completely made with the smallest brush. It was a sky of deep orange that blends to perfection to a fading yellow, and shaded with tinted clouds rolling alone a sole horizon. Water below it reflects the gorgeous golden hue of the vastness above. Though it was far from realistic, it was passionate, and the images seem so surreal but so familiar, so close but so far.

"I painted that after the first class of this year." Anne beams, peeling the paper upwards to reveal the flipside, showing a mess of swatches and the date it was made, plus the name of the piece. 'Her.'

"It was the first day I spoke to you!" She shakes her head, the stupid grin not quite leaving her cheeks. "I remember thinking something about how long your legs were- all good- don't worry- I'm not complaining- but- and then just how beautiful you were. You were so effortless and natural and you were just there. A goddess in the midst of people. A tree amongst the ocean."

"Strangely insightful." Catherine stoops, tilting her head towards the Boleyn girl. "Do all of your works have such deep meaning?"

"Nah. Most of 'em are just 'cause I got bored and inspired when no-one would give me attention."

"Still a story, nonetheless." She says with a shrug, eyes falling to the wall again. "Did I ever tell you how beautiful your drawings are? They look like they have been crafted to perfection by an angel."

"That's because they were, duh." She teases, taking Parr's sleeve between her index and her thumb, pulling her to the sofa, where she folds herself, allowing the taller girl to sit across from her.

Catherine's lips never waver from their smile. "Are we watching a film?"

"Mhm! Go ahead, mon amour, put whatever you want on." Without fail, every time Anne spoke a word of French a shiver slathered down her spine. The way her voice changed, her tone shifted to account for the foreign language- the way it rolled off of her tongue like it was natural for her. Still, Catherine manifested with the remote after she had bent to get it, flicking the TV on and scrolling through Netflix, finding a true-crime documentary and settling into the arm of the sofa.

While she was so infatuated with the screen, Anne took the time to pick up a pad of paper and a charcoal pencil, and in time, depicting the love of her life onto the paper, from her shoulder blades to the curls of her hair to her fingertips, resting against a leg. The straps of her shirt falling down her arm, resting. Catherine didn't have to pose for beauty, she didn't have to pose for her to be a muse. Catherine just had to be.

She had caught her, and had smiled and kissed her hands and her lips and her neck in a gift of thanks in the hours afterwards. Her Anne, whose hands were gifted with the talent of artistic expression (and many other things, she'd discover).

Waking up next to her felt so, very right.

It was warm, and she would wrap her arms around Anne after too long of who-knows-what. She felt a home around Anne: a place of belonging and occupancy, where they were neither themselves nor each other - just lovers, loving in the only way they knew how to.

Together.

#parrlyn if you squint #parrleyn #it could be parrlyn idk man #parrlyn #catherine parr x anne boleyn #anne boleyn #parr x boleyn #six the musical #boleyn x parr #six #six fanfiction #catherine parr #catherine x anne #anne x catherine

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af-answers · 4 years

Text

Four Times Artemis Tries to Convince Holly to go with him to Mars and the One Time he Didn’t

The First Time | The Second Time | The Third Time | The One Time he Didn’t

The Fourth Time

The fourth time was during their sting operation to find the Changeling Napper in the American West. Foaly’s e-mail had been the itinerary of a gnome named Rumi Mush, a fungus farmer on the south side of Haven. Agricultural workers received more topside passes than most other professions in the fairy world, because though Haven’s technology was great, there were some things (like fertilizer and new seeds) one had to get from the source. Mush had been to California a week before the kidnappings began, and the surveillance photos showed Mush bringing a large biohazard container topside. It wasn’t uncommon for his trade, but Mush himself didn’t work with biohazards like spores or bacteria. But that wasn’t the smoking gun.

Foaly had done a media sweep of the area. Two days ago, in the same little town where the A5 shoot let out in California, a human child had been abducted from its crib. A wood carving of a human child had been left in its place.

The LEP raided his house on the outskirts of the gnome district and found not only the four missing fairy babes crying in a locked closet, but the human child in a cage in the basement. There were more cages as well: apparently, Mush was putting together a menagerie.

When Holly put out a warrant for his arrest, Mush was on another surface run. They alerted border patrol, but he’d passed them hours before. Giving orders to detain him if he came back through, Commodore Short and a team of LEP Retrieval sprites suited up and took the fastest shuttle to the surface. The sprites complained the cramped quarters wrinkled her wings, and while Holly didn’t dignify them with an answer, she smiled to herself.

When they got to the surface, Mush hadn’t returned. To Holly, this meant either he knew somehow he’s been made and was on the lam, or he’d been caught in the act by humans. Both were worst case scenarios. Using intel about which babies lived nearest the fairy mound, the team split into three pairs, each taking a potential target.

“If you hear sirens, follow them,” she instructed over the comms.

She and her partner approached their assigned house downwind. Gnomes had excellent senses of smell; if their quarry caught a whiff of them, they were done. After all, he had the advantage of being magic-less and so could hide inside the house, not to mention the hostages he could take. She crept up to a window of the one-story brick house. All the windows were dark, but she looked in anyway, turning on her night vision.

“No movement,” she reported. “Check the other windows.”

Just then, a voice call alert flashed in the corner of her helmet, the icon ice blue.

“Not the time, Artemis,” she whispered, side-stepping a tipped over flower pot on the stoop of the porch.

“On the contrary, Commodore,” the Irish accent sounded even more pretentious over the phone, “you’ll want to hear what I have to say for once. The house you’re investigating is devoid of human occupants. Ms. Gregston won a all-expenses paid trip to the Bahamas this weekend, and she’s left her infant daughter with her parents.”

“How fortunate,” she snarked, straightening as the tension melted off her. “So I’m guessing Mush isn’t here either?”

“Oh,” she could practically hear his smirk stretch into a grin. “I wouldn’t say that. Look in the front window.”

Holly peeked over the cracking paint of the window sill into the front room. There, hog-tied inside a ring of candles, was Rumi Mush. Outside of the wax circle was a note, written in a woman’s hand,

“Come on in.”

“I’ll see you at the fairy mound,” Artemis said, then hung up the phone.

As her team escorted a handcuffed Mush into a police shuttle, Holly slipped into the woods to meet the hulking figure in the shadows.

“Hide and seek was never your game, eh big man?” she joked, tapping Butler on the thigh with her first.

“I was quite good at being ‘it’,” he said with a grin.

Holly turned her gaze on Artemis, who looked entirely too smug.

“What were you thinking, interfering with LEP business like this?”

The grin shrunk a few teeth. “If I hadn’t interfered, you would have had a hostage situation on your hands!”

“I’m not complaining,” she pointed out. “I’m asking what were you thinking. Why this case? Why now?” It had been less than forty-eight hours since their lunch conversation, but the boy— no, man— looked different now. Emotionally. Though he smiled and his shoulders were sloped back in a relaxed stance, her helmet sensors showed an elevated blood pressure and too-even breathing. Like he was regulating it manually.

She took off her helmet, tucking it under her arm before taking his hand. “What’s happened, Artemis?”

He looked up at his oldest friend, who coughed into one gargantuan fist. “I’ll go— wait by those trees. You know the ones.”

When he’d gone, Artemis sighed, his smile now tired. “I can’t beat Foaly’s sensors, can I?”

“Why would you try?” She activated her wings so she could hover at his eye level. “Does it have something to do with the space thing? Why are you so hung up on this Artemis? Why are you in such a hurry—“

“Hurry? I’ve been building this ship for four years!”

“And you can’t wait a little longer? You’re still young, your brothers are still young. If you leave now, you’ll miss most of their childhood.”

“All the more reason to leave now,” he joked.

“This all seems very reactionary for you, Arty. I’ve never known you to make such a big decision so flippantly.”

“Apparently I’m supposed to be flippant. Flippant is normal.”

Artemis ran his free hand through his hair— a rare gesture for him, as it mussed his quaff— and pursed his lips to keep himself from talking further (another rarity).

But that last word was all Holly needed. It was a word Artemis seldom used unless he talked about one specific person. “It’s your mother.”

Holly led him to the coffee house in the shuttle terminal. They got a lot of sideways glances, but Artemis had been on multiple Haven talk shows since his rebirth, so there was no outright alarm.

“It didn’t begin when I resurrected,” he said as she set a earthenware cup of hickory coffee in front of him. “It didn't even start after Hybras, it was well before then. I think Mother has considered herself a failure as a parent since Father’s return, and she’s been trying to rectify the problem— me— ever since.” He wrapped his hands around the cup, but didn’t lift it to drink. “First her behaviors were what I considered to be typical for a mother: buying me clothes I didn’t like, disapproving of my language, wanting me to socialize with people my own age. But when Myles showed signs of taking after me, it changed. Escalated.” He sighed deeply, and Holly realized this was hard for him, that he most likely had never voiced these thoughts aloud. She covered his hands with hers, but remained silent.

He took another breath, then went on. “She was already going to university for psychology and mental biology, so she took up some child psych classes. After her first class, she sent the twins to a private boarding school on the other side of Dublin. I know part of her reason was so the twins would be more socialized than I am. A noble goal to be sure.” He stared at their joined hands, a crease forming between his brows. “When the twins were suspended for criminal recklessness, I’ve never seen Mother so upset. Not only with the twins, but me as well. She would never accuse me of corrupting my brothers, of course, but after that she monitored me constantly. Every day she asked me probing questions, and I could feel her diagnosing me, trying to suss out how I was broken.” He pressed his eyes shut. “Do you know what it feels like, to have someone you love and admire try to change the fundamentals of who you are? To have someone make you question if you’re sensible or even real?”

Now Holly did speak. “Yes,” she said, squeezing his hands. When he opened his eyes to look at her, they were watery, the ice in his blue irises melting. “In my early days as an officer, Commander Root and my coworkers challenged every decision I made. If I showed emotion, I was acting like a girl. If I did something right, I was finally ‘thinking like a man.’”

“The commander said that to you?” Artemis asked, angry on her behalf.

She shrugged. “It was the way at the time. He apologized later, and no one on the force would dare make those comments now, but back then I was jeered at for acting like a woman, but rejected if I bucked gender roles. It was wrong of them to treat me as if my differences were flaws.” She said the next words gently, but firmly. “And it’s wrong of Angeline, too.”

He shook his head. “Your colleagues were prejudiced against your biology. I made horrible choices in the past, and Mother believes it’s her job to pick up the pieces.”

“You wearing Armani suits everyday and calling her ‘Mother’ doesn’t make you an evil dictator, Artemis,” she argued. “Your mother is upset because you are who you are independent of her influence. You took care of her when you were ten years old. You were saving the planet by fourteen. If she can’t see the amazing man you’ve become, it’s her who needs a shrink.”

The human blinked, then smiled, one side of his mouth pulling up higher than the other. “See? This is why I need you to come to Mars with me. Who else would put me in my place?”

She withdrew her hands and frowned. Her stomach fell like she’d eaten a meal of lead. “Wait. Was this all a ploy to convince me to go to Mars?”

He tilted his head at her, then laughed when he processed her question. “No, no it’s all sadly true. I must still have a way to go if you believe I’d tell such an egregious lie to trick you into running away with me. Or perhaps, you’re simply arrogant.”

Holly shared his laugh, her stomach light again. “Even though we shouldn’t change who we are to match someone else’s expectations, there's always room for personal growth.”

He finally took a drink of coffee, then winced when he found it was room temperature. “In all seriousness, the offer still stands. If there’s even a part of you that doubts, please think on it.” He produced a fairy credit chip to pay for their drinks, and Holly didn’t bother asking where he’d gotten it. He stood, still smiling sadly at her. The emotion was become a constant for him, and she didn’t like it. “The launch is scheduled for two weeks from tomorrow. Please let me know by then.”

She nodded numbly, her brain scrabbling to answer the unspoken question of whether she did doubt, when her thoughts finally snagged on two vital words.

“Two weeks?”

#mild spoilers #artemis fowl #holly short #angeline fowl #in which i work through some issues

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grimweaver · 4 years

Text

Druin and The Remnants of Oblivion: Part XVIII

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16969119/chapters/64492294

~*~

While the musicians were warming up and practicing in our suite, the rest of us returned to our designated seating arrangement at the court hall to partake in The Grand Celebration Feast. It was largely uneventful, at least compared to the trial LaChance had just been put through. Although the danger of it was well behind us, it was just one of at least three hurdles that had to be cleared. So, while we kept a watchful eye on the Arch-Mage, whom had returned to her seat upon the higher platform at the end of the room, a dense cloud of tension continued to loom over us—except Dorandil, that is. It seemed nothing could ever dampen his spirits or shut him up (at least, not for very long), which is why I did not allow him to come with us to the menagerie. He wouldn’t stop prodding us for more details of the viper story, even turning to other witnesses nearby for their accounts when Lucien refused to talk about it.

I think the only thing that kept me sane throughout the hour of listening to the tortuously dull prating of the high-class was the continuous inflow of divine food, in addition to the cloud of incense that even a steady breeze had not dispersed, which had again persuaded me to think less about our mission and more about the one tasty-looking item that I hungered for above everything else offered.

I leaned towards LaChance and said to him, “I could really go for that… hmm... Midnight Velvet right about now.”

LaChance gave this remark a soft and controlled reaction; a slight and smooth tilt of his head in my direction and one corner of his mouth curling up. “I understand that the current environment has made it difficult for you to take your mind off of your ‘thirst’. I too find myself struggling with the desire for… hmm... an equally tantalizing dish. But we must not lose focus on what should be in the forefront of our thoughts. We need to use this time to meditate upon the soon approaching… ‘performance’.”

“Yes… I know,” I sighed.

Just then, I was startled out of the dense euphoric fog when my shoulder was given a couple quick and hard pokes.

“AAAAH- WHAT?? ” I blasted, as I whirled around and glared up at the one the hand belonged to. It was Farwil.

There was a look of embarrassment on his face, and his eyes darted from one side of the room to the other. My outburst had momentarily drawn too much attention from the entire assembly. My whole body was flushed with embarrassment of my own, and I tried to recover, “Y… you’ve never once in your whole life had baklava?? That’s just not right! Go on and have some, dear!” I said, giving one of the honey-soaked, walnut-filled pastry squares to Farwil.

“Thank you, M’Lady,” Farwil said, taking a small bite. “Sorry I scared you.”

“And I’m sorry I yelled in your face,” I replied. “Just... quit poking me. If you have something to say just say it.”

“I just wanted to let you both know about the dogs over there,” he said, nodding towards the twelve patrol guards walking in, each with what appeared to be a mere dune-hound on a leash. “They did bring them after all.”

The message that Farwil was trying to give us was that the remnants had gone as far as summoning hell hounds to make sure Zalkir and the orb were protected, and they were also magically concealed. It has been said, by the few who have seen them and lived to describe them, that their sense of smell rivals that of sharks, and there was little doubt that they would be able to pick up our scent in the vents and alert their masters to it.

Lucien turned his attention to the dogs and studied them while he took in a deep breath, as if to sample the air for its betrayal of their true identities. “So they have,” he said, clearing his throat a little.

“The collars that the hounds are wearing—just like the necklaces around the necks of their masters—they really add a nice aesthetic touch, do they not?” Farwil asked.

Lucien nodded, understanding that Farwil was informing us that illusions were generated by these adornments.

“Dear gods,” Farwil gasped, trying to control the volume of his voice. “ They’re coming this way.”

“Calm yourself, Sreth,” Teinaava hissed. “We’re all aware that you have allergies , but there’s nothing we can do about it. You’ll just have to put up with it.”

The hounds seemed to gravitate heavily towards LaChance, whining and practically clawing the floor as they pulled their masters over to our table.

“What the hell is wrong with you all?” one of the remnants growled. He then examined us, wondering what it was about this area that had interested the hounds. There was some initial dread, expecting them to howl angrily and spit fireballs at us at any second…

... but no such thing happened.

“Perhaps I still smell like the viper,” Lucien chuckled, sitting perfectly still as he smiled at the one hound that inched closer and excitedly sniffed the back of his hand, which was resting on his knee. Much to everyone’s surprise, not only were they passive, they each licked the back of his hand. “Haha! Or perhaps it’s the roast beef on my hands!”

“But there’s food everywhere,” the remnant replied, giving their chains a firm tug, narrowing his eyes. “It must be something else. ”

Bremman cracked under pressure and spouted out an explanation that was not entirely aligned with any of the responses he was trained to give,“He’s got some kind of aura or something that animals are drawn to. That’s why he’s got so many strays at home. They keep showing up in his front yard! It’s very weird! It has never been explained, but we think maybe his father was a Ward—”

“That’s quite enough, Saxtus ,” Lucien rumbled low, then said to the hounds, “Go on now and don’t be trouble for your masters.”

Right at that instant, the hounds withdrew their attention and the remnant patrol no longer struggled to control them. There was astonished confusion on the faces of the remnants, and it looked as though one of them wanted to question Lucien about it, but they shrugged it off and continued marching on to their destination: Zalkir’s private quarters.

“Well… that was close,” Farwil sighed. “I uh… thought I’d start sneezing up a storm. That would’ve been embarrassing.” He then asked LaChance, “That thing you did in the viper pit… did you just do it again?”

Lucien simply grinned and finished his piece of baklava.

“Excuse me, Master Atterius... Lady Nelvani,” the voice of Ms. Ale’Ruje said, as she approached from our right, “but the time of your performance draws near—it is currently five minutes till. The musicians are already waiting for you at the Grand Pavilion.”

“Thank you, Ms. Ale’Ruje,” Lucien replied, then gracefully rose to his feet and said as he looked down at me, “We should get a move on, M’Lady.”

I nodded and stood up, with a bit of rigidness in my movements despite my trying to keep it as smooth and graceful as his, and asked Farwil, “would you kindly escort me this time, dear Rellintilys?”

Farwil’s face was lit with joy. “Yes,” he said, “It would be a most appreciated honor, Lady Nelvani.”

I hooked my left into Farwil’s right arm, while Lucien took Ocheeva’s left arm in the same manner. With the rest of the group following close behind us, we left the great hall and out into the massive courtyard. Off to our right, past several of the small pavilions we had walked by when we had entered the property, was a wide stone platform that was reserved for the show.

“Pfft! Wooden swords?? You cannot be serious!” Zalkir scoffed, as Ms. Ale’Ruje handed them to us.

“We would’ve used real ones, but we understand that weapons are not permitted on the premises,” Lucien replied.

“Oh! Haha! Right!” Zalkir turned to the two remnant guards at his side. “Give them your swords,” he ordered them.

The remnants hesitated and questioned this order with eyes filled with distrust darting back and forth, from him to us.

“Master... I don’t think that’s wise,” one of them warned.

“With all due respect, Zalkir, I will have to agree with him,” Surraiah said to Zalkir. “Consider the safety of the audience. Should someone get hit by a wooden sword that was accidentally launched from the stage, there may be a chance of them surviving it… but a metal greatsword—”

“Will do nothing but make the show more interesting!” Zalkir argued. “Come on, Arch-Mage!”

Surraiah really had no choice but to surrender to his will. She sank back into her seat, weighed down by the aggravation over his power over her and the inability to overcome it—she had only the power to fight the angry tears that threatened to surface again. She said nothing more, only gave a weak nod as she forced a regal smile. “Very well,” she sighed.

“That’s the spirit!” Zalkir laughed, taking the greatswords from the remnants and handing them over to us.

Lucien and I looked at each other. Though he gave no outward indication of it, I sensed that he shared my suspicions that Zalkir was not thoroughly convinced after all.

“To our starting positions, then,” he said to me in a low voice.

“Finally… the moment I’ve been looking forward to all evening,” I whispered back.

A wide grin emerged on Lucien’s face as we both, simultaneously, turned towards the steps and made our way up to the platform; around its horizontal center, we turned in opposite directions and walked several more paces before pivoting on on heels and assuming a ready stance.

Along with the arising thrill of entering this moment of action and artistry, I suppressed the acidic burn of anxiety by reflecting on what Lucien had sad to me at the very beginning of the first drill:

“You don’t just move to the music. You move as though you are the one making it. In doing so, you breathe life into the story that you are trying to tell the audience. We’re not actually dueling. It is a performance. Steady flow, fluid and harmonious movements with the rhythm must be applied.”

“And you think we’ll have this all down by Loredas??” I had asked him.

“I know we will, so long as you do not forfeit confidence in yourself.”

He was right. Confidence is all it really took. The body was able to move in almost every way that is possible for a humanoid, the mind was capable of learning at a fast rate, the spirit just needed to be convinced that the only thing that could hold me back from achieving what we set out to accomplish was self-doubt. Considering also the rate of my greatsword retraining, I constantly reminded myself that it took only eight weeks to achieve the desired level of athletic ability, knowledge, and skill of an imperial soldier. If that is possible for me, then I could master within four days a roughly five-minute ‘pretend’ sword fight, as well as learn every detail about the person that I was pretending to be.

I took in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds as I tried to clear my mind of all doubt. I released the air—a long, hard whistle through my teeth— and focused on steadying my breathing and shutting out all that threatened to shatter the sphere of focus. I fixed my eyes on Lucien, standing at the other end of the stage.

Don’t overthink this, I thought to myself. Get your mind off of all the eyes upon us… out of the fear of failure. Just breathe… and think about nothing but what you have to do.

The edges of my vision began to blacken as I forced myself to narrow my awareness to just LaChance and the music. The fear of failure was washed away by a cool wave of self-assurance, and I found myself energized all over by positive anticipation.

((CONTINUED...))

#Lucien LaChance #tes oblivion #elder scrolls stories #the elder scrolls

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camillemontespan · 5 years

Text

a kingdom divided [part fourteen: a world of colour]

Part Thirteen here if you want to catch up!

Chapter List

@jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @pug-bitch @drakesensworld @moonlightgem7 @dcbbw @notoriouscs @thecordoniandiaries @ifyouseekheart @thequeenofcronuts @tacohead13 @be-still-my-aching-heart @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore

**********************************************

'That fucking traitor.'

Olivia was the first one to speak after the long silence. Liam was sat at his desk with his head in his hands and he had gathered his circle of friends so he could tell them about Kiara and her betrayal.

'I can't believe it.. Are you sure it's her writing?' Hana asked, her eyes wide. Liam nodded silently.

Camille was clenching Drake's hand in shock. Bertrand had turned pale at the thought that Kiara was part of the club who had conspired to kill him. He felt sick to his stomach.

'This is treason,' Leo said fiercely. 'Liam, you have to do something.'

Liam looked at his brother with a distraught look in his brown eyes. 'What can I do? Imprison her? Sentence her to exile? If I play my cards too soon, the club will just find another way...'

'Liam, you imprison her. You have evidence that she is plotting against you, you have got to defend yourself!' Drake protested. 'It might stop them when they see you reacting. They might think twice about targeting again -'

'Drake, don't be so naive, it doesn't suit you,' Liam interrupted. Camille's eyes flashed. 'He is only trying to help,' she said. 'Let us help you.'

The King sighed. He felt so weary and bone tired. 'I can't be like Louis XIV,' he muttered. 'I refuse to lock anyone up unless it is necessary. Besides, if I act harshly, they will use that against me, as an example of why Cordonia is better off as a Republic, without tyrants ruling over them. No, I will continue my current plan which is to act like I know nothing while keeping an eye out. I need more evidence of the club. That means Kiara will think she is safe for now but I will be watching her.'

The others sighed. They clearly didn't agree with his plan but Liam was the King. It was his decision. Liam filed away the note for safekeeping. 'Be my eyes,' he told them. 'But most importantly, be safe.'

'That poor servant girl being threatened like that,' Hana said quietly.

Liam nodded. 'She's too scared to stay in the servants quarters. She's only seventeen, she's terrified.'

Camille looked at him. 'She could stay with us,' she suggested. 'I don't want a teenager to feel scared in her own space especially when it's my family history that has inspired this rebellion. I feel responsible.'

'What would she do at ours?' Drake asked. Camille smiled. 'She could just do what she does here! We have a small household anyway, she could do a bit of everything maybe? She’s seventeen, Drake. Someone has to look out for her.’

Drake smiled softly. 'You've gotten all maternal, haven't you?'

'I think that's a good idea. Plus if we carry it off like she has been fired for serving poisoned wine, the club might lose its suspicion,' Liam said.

He signalled that the meeting was over. Drake stayed behind as he was staying with Liam for the next appointment, which was with the new People’s Committee. As the Duke of Valtoria, he had to be there. Camille had been told by Drake to get home and rest.

The meeting was poor timing for Liam as he wanted to focus on what to do about Kiara but he had to keep this appointment. At least he would be making one group happy, as opposed to feeling like he was failing everyone.

*****************************************************

Olivia left Liam's study with the others behind her. When the rest of the group had gone their separate ways, Leo caught her by the wrist.

She reached out to hit him, her usual reaction whenever anyone touched her without permission. Leo grabbed her hand and chuckled. 'You're more fiery than usual today.'

Olivia rolled her eyes. 'I'm angry about Kiara. That little French weasel.'

'Perhaps I could take your mind off it..' Leo suggested cooly.

'No thank you. You've done enough,' she replied, twisting out of his grip. She began to stalk down the corridor with her head high. Leo followed until he was in step beside her, his hands in his pockets. 'So, did I make you forget?'

Olivia reddened. Of course he had. Liam's face didn't even come up once in her mind, which was a relief as he was really a constant presence in her head, and she had woken up this morning in Leo's bed. The sunlight had filtered in, turning his golden skin even more golden.

'You fulfilled your purpose,' she told him bluntly.

'Indeed I did. Three times if I recall.'

Olivia ignored the memory. They had fucked twice last night and once this morning. The way Leo looked in the morning sunlight had been enough to make her want him one last time before she went back to ignoring him.

'You didn't answer my question though. Did I make you forget?'

She stopped and looked at him, her eyes narrowed. 'Yes. You happy? Now go and fuck a maid.'

Leo burst out laughing. 'You sure you want me to? You won't get jealous?'

She continued striding down the corridor, ignoring him. God, she couldn't stand him.

Did she regret last night and this morning? Yes and no. No because she had needed it. Olivia needed a reminder that there were other men in the world aside from Liam. Shame she had to fuck his brother to do it but oh well.

'Well, I'm glad I could be of service,' he told her. 'And I hope you remember our time together fondly.' He was joking with her now, as always. Trying to rile her up. He was back to playing the fun loving, irresponsible role he had perfected. Listening to him, Olivia couldn't believe that he was the same man who set out ground rules before they slept together. He had made sure she felt safe and understood, giving her all the power in the situation. He had actually listened to her.

She wasn't going to succumb to it again. She couldn’t, no matter how good it had been.

'Try not to imagine having my babies,' he continued. 'Apparently some women do that.'

Olivia stopped and stared at him. 'Will you please just shut up?' she asked. 'God you're so annoying. Yes, you are great in bed but I'm not going to suddenly fall in love with you, I'm not like the other girls you've had! So just stop trying to rile me up! Get over yourself, we had sex, who gives a fuck? In all honesty, you were just convenient-'

She stopped ranting. Leo was staring at her. A wounded expression passed over his face. Olivia felt a stab of guilt but she pushed it down.

'Right then. I guess I'll go fuck a maid, to use your expression,' he said. He moved towards her and she stepped back. His gaze was intense. Gently, he stroked his finger along her jawline. His touch burned. ‘But I know where you live now, Nevrakis,’ he murmured. ‘It was you who initiated it. Three times. Not me. I helped you forget and now you have tasted it. You know what it’s like not to have him in your head and I was the reason. Might be good for you to remember that.’ He withdrew his finger and Olivia let out a haggered breath. Without a word, Leo sloped off and left her standing in the corridor.

***************************************************

The People’s Committee sat around the table in the meeting room. The group was varied with men and women, old and young. So far, Liam had listened to how the apples weren’t growing as well this year, tax was too high and fishing was the only sustainable industry. Liam had known this for some time, but it still hurt when he heard first hand accounts from his own people. He hadn’t realised how badly they had been affected; while many were working two jobs to make ends meet, he had been throwing balls in his glittering palace. He felt so ignorant of it all.

Drake had some Valtorians present at the meeting and he made special effort to get to know them. He wanted Valtoria to be a safe and happy place for his daughter and it was obvious to the Valtorians that he genuinely wanted to make the duchy better.

Liam agreed that the citizens could visit the palace once a month with petitions which he would consider. He promised that he would meet with his finance team and see if taxes could be lowered.

All in all, it was a successful meeting.

When the People's Committee were leaving the palace, happy and enthusiastic after the meeting, they passed a group of nobles. The silence that followed was so audible, it made Drake cringe.

'Who let the commoners in here?'

Drake closed his eyes. Why did Neville always have to be a world class dickhead?

The citizens, about five of them, turned to stare at Lord Neville who was looking at them down his nose, staying close to the wall, as far away as possible from them. Who knew why? To make a point it seemed.

'We've just had a meeting with the King actually,' one citizen replied. He was in his sixties and Drake remembered his name was Matthew. 'Very productive, I must say!' He grinned at Neville.

'Riiiight I'm sure it was', Neville sneered. 'Though you could just let the King govern and leave everything to us nobility. Just a thought. We have more understanding of these sort of things.'

Another man, James, strode forward. He was only twenty and he had a temper. 'How patronising are you?!' he said loudly. 'Who the fuck do you think you are?'

Drake stepped forward. 'Look, just ignore him, it's fine. Keep moving.'

Neville smirked. 'If course, Duke Walker is with the commoners. How typical. Even with your new title it seems you can't resist staying in the gutter.'

Drake forced down the urge to punch him. Camille had taught him how to rise above such insults and he wasn't going to disappoint her now.

Unfortunately, James hadn't been taught how to rise above it. He bolted forward and shoved Neville against the wall. 'Call us commoners one more time, Posh Boy,' he growled. Neville had turned pale, Drake could see.

'Please don't touch my waistcoat, it's one of a kind and very expensive, not that you would appreciate such things..' Neville said, shaking away his shock.

With a frustrated shout, James pulled back his fist to connect with Neville. 'James, don't!' Drake shouted, rushing forward to pull him back. But he was too late and James's fist connected with Neville's jaw. There was a resounding crack. Neville fell back against the wall, his eyes screwed up tightly. He let out a series of expletives which was not appropriate for a noble to say.

Drake pulled James back. 'James! Stop!'

James whipped around, his eyes flashing. 'Don't tell me you're defending this asshole? This creep who thinks he's better than us? I know you're a Duke now but I thought you still understood the common people! You used to be one of us!'

Drake reddened. 'Believe me, I am. It's just fighting will get you nowhere.'

James stared at Neville now. Neville, with such audacity, smirked. That set James off again. 'Fucking nobles! No wonder there's calls for a Republic if this who we have above us! ' he shouted. Suddenly, he rushed at Neville, intent to cause more damage. Drake grabbed him but instantly regretted it when James pulled back his arm, his elbow hitting Drake in the eye.

Drake stumbled back. His eye watered and everything around him seemed to fade out. He heard shouts and when he managed to regain his vision, he could see the security team had ascended on the group. James was dragged away from laying into Neville.

Drake wanted to get home. He was sick of court and everything it entailed.

***************************************

'What happened to you?!'

Drake grimaced. 'Neville and a citizen happened. Don't worry, I tried to stop it, I wasn't actually attacked.'

He slumped down onto the sofa and smiled weakly when Camille came over with a bag of frozen peas. She settled down on his lap and placed the bag over his eye. Gently, she kissed his forehead. 'Were you trying to be the hero again?' she asked wearily. This was not the first time they had had this conversation.

'Neville riled up a young guy,' Drake explained. 'I was trying to stop the guy from killing Neville.'

'Wow, you tried to help Neville? How times have changed..'

Drake chuckled. 'I've grown up, Camille.'

She looked at him, her eyes steady. 'You have, haven't you?'

'I had to,' he replied. 'It's not just me I have to look after anymore.'

He placed a hand on Camille's bump and she wrapped her arm around his shoulders. Drake was tempted to bring up the subject of leaving for Texas, but the way she was holding him and keeping him close to her.. he didn't want to ruin it. He would have to find the right moment.

*************************************

Hana examined her appearance in the mirror. She had settled on an outfit that she thought would be appropriate for crazy golf. She had chosen ripped blue mom jeans, espadrilles and a red camisole top. Relaxed but pretty.

Her phone buzzed with a text. It was Maxwell telling her he was outside. He had added a bunch of emojis in his excitement, one being of a dancing man, fireworks and an aubergine.

Grabbing her bag, Hana took a deep breath. It's just a date. Sure, your first ever date but it's with Maxwell, you've already slept with him so there should be no surprises..

She stepped out the front door of the palace and found Maxwell standing by a duck egg blue convertible. He was holding a bouquet of red roses.

Hana grinned, butterflies filling her stomach, and she raced down the steps towards him. He scooped her up into a cuddle and placed a kiss on her forehead. He handed her the roses. 'For you, my lady,' he smiled. Hana blushed. 'These are beautiful. '

'Heh. Just like you then,' he replied. He opened the passenger door for her and she stepped into the car.

'I didn't know you drove!' she said. Maxwell grinned. 'There's a lot you don't know about me yet, Hana!'

She smiled at him happily. 'I honestly can't wait to find out more.'

************************************************

It turned out that Hana loved crazy golf. She knocked the ball through a mini castle so it hit the dragon in the eye, which was the target.

She navigated the obstacle course with precision, hitting the golf ball through hoops and down little slides.

When she won the coveted Crazy Golf Crown, Maxwell placed it on her head and bowed.

There was a carnival next door. Still wearing her crown, Hana and Maxwell held hands as they entered the gates. 'Where to first?' Maxwell asked.

'Candyfloss?'

Maxwell broke into a grin and pulled her along to the candy floss stall. He ordered two and the vendor passed them both pink swirled candyfloss.

They wandered through the carnival. Maxwell's arm was slung over Hana's shoulder casually, as if this was how they always walked. Hana felt so at ease. Maxwell made her feel at ease.

He pointed out the rollarcoasters like he was a child at Disneyland. He picked her up and whirled her around, Hana laughing hysterically as they spun together under the rainbow lights of the carnival, the colors melting together creating a kaleidoscope of red, yellow, purple and pink. Hana wished that this world of colour could be theirs forever.

They came across a glass cabinet with stuffed toys inside and a giant claw above them. Maxwell squealed. 'Pikachu!'

Hana frowned. 'Sorry, what?'

'Pikachu,' Maxwell repeated. 'There's a toy of him in there, begging for me to take him home!'

Hana reddened. 'Um.. What's Pikachu?'

Maxwell dragged her to the cabinet. 'There! The yellow toy! Pikachu from Pokemon!' He suddenly broke into song. 'GOTTA CATCH THEM ALL!'

Hana was very confused. She had no idea what he was talking about. Yet again, she cursed her parents for her sheltered upbringing. She had never experienced things that made Maxwell - no, most people her age - fizz with excitement.

Patiently, Maxwell explained Pokemon and Pikachu. He promised he would sit get down and get her to watch the TV show with him.

Determined, Maxwell started to manoeuvre the claw down into the toys. He needed Pikachu. He was going to get Pikachu.

Three attempts later, he was practically weeping with frustration. He was rubbish at this game.

Sighing, Hana gently pushed him out the way and took over. Maxwell held his breath as he watched her move the claw. Already, she was getting closer to Pikachu.

'Oh my god, Hana! You've nearly got him!' Maxwell cried, jumping up and down. Hana bit her lip in concentration. Steadily, she moved the claw around until it touched Pikachu. Maxwell squealed. 'Nearly there!'

The claw gripped hold of Pikachu. Maxwell's mouth dropped open as he watched it carry his new toy. Hana dropped it into the slide so it came out of the cabinet.

'Hana you're amazing!' he cried picking it up. He stared at Pikachu.

'Maxwell.. Are you crying?'

He nodded slowly and let out a sniffle. 'I always wanted Pikachu..' he whispered. 'I had every other Pokemon but for some reason never Pikachu.'

Hana gave him a tight hug. Maxwell felt like all was right in the world and he knew it was because of Hana.

Later, Maxwell drove up to the palace. 'Tonight was amazing,' he told her. Hana blushed. Maxwell leaned over and kissed her softly, placing his hand behind her neck. The kiss grew more deep as their tongues met and Hana groaned, feeling her body react. Maxwell's fingers ran through her hair. He tasted of candyfloss.

Hana moved from her seat over to where Maxwell sat. She straddled him and they kissed more urgently. He pulled up her top and cast it to the backseat of the car. Hana felt his hands unclip her bra before making his way down to her jeans button. Hana reciprocated, pulling off his shirt and unbuckled his belt.

They did the best they could in the cramped space. It was dark outside and they were parked under a tree so they were well hidden. Their breaths came out harsh as they moved together, Hana riding him hard. They wanted each other desperately. Maxwell kissed her neck and focused on how she felt around him. She felt perfect.

Hana ground her hips harder and felt her body about to lose control. Maxwell groaned her name and that was all she needed. As her body jerked and she cried out, all she could see was their world of colour.

**************************************************

The next morning, Olivia wandered down Leo's corridor. She had been thinking and she wanted to apologise for her behaviour. She hadn't meant to say he was just convenient.

Before she reached his door, it opened. She stopped, preparing herself for what she was going to say, but her mind went blank when she saw a maid leave Leo's room. Her dark hair was dishevelled and her uniform crinkled. She was carrying her shoes.

Leo leaned against the doorway watching the maid leave. He was wearing trousers but nothing else. When he turned, his eyes caught Olivia's and he stared at her. Heat passed between them as his green eyes looked at her steadily. For a moment, he looked guilty.

Olivia's breath hitched.

Leo shook his head and the guilty expression vanished, replaced by a wolfish grin. Leo padded back into his room, shutting the door behind him. Throwing her shoulders back, Olivia strode along the corridor, past Leo's room. I am a Nevrakis. He is beneath me.

***************************************************

The court was gathered outside in the sunshine for brunch. It was a buffet, with macaroons, pain au chocolate, breakfast muffins, toast, coffee and jasmine tea.

Liam, Hana, Maxwell and Penelope were standing under a cherry blossom tree, talking. Maxwell had brought over a plate full of macaroons for him and Hana to share. So far, they both liked the cappuccino flavour one.

Penelope held a cup of jasmine tea in her hand. She was speaking to Liam about his meeting with the People's Committee. Many believed Penelope to be a little lost, always confused and could only be relied on to talk about poodles, but Liam felt she was underestimated. Whenever he had spoken to her, she showed great intellect and an interest in the country.

Maxwell found that every so often, he would reach out to take Hana's hand, but remembering they were in public, he had to stop himself. He hated having to stop himself. All he wanted was to kiss her and show her off, saying that she was with him. Instead, he sipped on his coffee and tried to ignore his feelings.

'You really must visit my family,' Penelope told Liam. 'My parents are so keen to host you again!'

She took a sip of her jasmine tea. 'They adore you. I keep saying they should come visit the palace for a weekend but they worry -'

Penelope began to cough. Liam frowned. 'Penelope, are you okay?'

She nodded but her coughing continued. Soon, she was spluttering and Liam noted with alarm that her face was turning purple. 'Oh god, Penelope -'

Hana reached out to her, clapping her on the back but it didn't help. Penelope continued coughing until the sound started to sound very much like she was choking.

She grabbed hold of Liam's arms tightly. Liam stared at her and his heart pounded when Penelope crumpled to the ground. 'Someone call an ambulance!' Liam ordered to the courtiers who were now surrounding them.

Her face had changed from purple to extremely red and froth was beginning to appear around the sides of her mouth. She choked and only Hana had the presence of mind to get down on the ground beside her and tilt her head so she wouldn't choke on the foam.

Liam was on his knees, holding Penelope's hands, trying to soothe her, even though his head was full of panic. He didn't know what to do. He felt helpless as he watched her cough some more, choking.

Her violet eyes looked up into his. Her terror reflected his own. 'I knew I shouldn't have left my poodles..' she whispered.

Her hand went slack.

Liam's vision blurred as tears escaped. He held Penelope close to him, trying to protect her from the world. This was his fault.

'An ambulance is here!' someone called out.

But it didn't matter now because Penelope was gone.

#the royal romance #a kingdom divided #drake walker #hana lee #olivia nevrakis #maxwell beaumont #liam rhys

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set-phasers-to-whump · 5 years

Text

whumptober day 11

prompt: stitches

whumpee: will riker (yet another one that like nobody else whumps sorry)

im so sorry this was late i was super busy yesterday and couldnt post it, also i will be posting today’s and tomorrow’s prompts both tomorrow and then i’ll be back on schedule i know nobody really cares but sorry anyway,,,this might be a lil wonky cos i didn’t edit it much

Data sat curled up in a chair in his quarters, carefully working on a needlepointed Enterprise. He had taken up the craft fairly recently, and frequently gifted his fellow Starfleet officers with various designs. They seemed to enjoy them, for the most part, so he devoted quite a bit of his free time to making them. Today’s was going to be a gift for the Captain.

He checked the time-he was due on shift in 7 minutes, 32.4 seconds. He tied off his most recent stitch and removed his thread from the needle, setting the thread onto a side table. He withdrew from his pocket a small case, into which he placed his needle. The case had been a gift from Geordi, who had been none too fond of the small bowl of needles which used to occupy the side table. Data slipped the case back into his pocket and headed to the bridge.

He arrived a few minutes early, but so had Lieutenant Worf, and the two had a conversation about the day’s activities as they waited for their shift to begin. Today, Commander Riker and an away team (which would doubtless include at least one of them) were beaming down to a previously-unvisited Class M planet. Although there had been no signs of life down on its surface, Starfleet headquarters had been curious, and had instructed the closest ship-the Enterprise-to stop by and take a few soil samples and such.

Despite the fact that there was nothing alive on the planet, Data still thought the mission to the surface would be interesting-you never knew what you were going to discover on a planet until you actually went down and investigated. There could be all sorts of fascinating things down there.

About two hours into the shift, the planet came into view. Within moments the Enterprise was in orbit, and Commander Riker was calling out the names of his away team-Worf, Data, a young ensign named Brown, who specialised in geology, and a lieutenant named Hardy, who specialised in meteorology.

The five of them beamed down to the planet. Its surface was desert-like, with rather large, coarse grains of sand and various spiked rock formations, ranging in size from perhaps two feet to vast mountains in the distance.

Everyone set to their jobs, analysing with tricorders, collecting samples, taking photos.

Ensign Brown examined one of the rock formations. “Looks like this area gets hit with sandstorms pretty frequently,” they said.

“More than that, this seems to be an area where they form,” added Lieutenant Hardy.

“There does not appear to be anything remarkable about this planet, Commander,” said Worf. “The sand and rocks are very similar in composition to those of Vulcan.”

“Agreed,” said Commander Riker, tapping his combadge to inform the Enterprise of this information.

“Riker to Picard.”

Silence.

“Riker to Picard. Can you hear me?”

Still more silence.

“Commander,” said Lieutenant Hardy.

“Yes?”

“We may have a problem.”

“What?”

She gestured behind the group. Clouds were forming around 200 meters away.

“Please don’t tell me that’s-”

“It’s a dust storm, sir.”

As she spoke, the wind whipped up around them, sending sand flying around their feet.

“It is coming this way,” Data observed. “At approximately 50 kilometers per hour. It should reach us in 14.4 seconds.”

“It’s interfering with our signal!” Hardy yelled, over the wind. “We have to find shelter! Now!”

Worf pointed to a tall rock formation not far from the group. “I believe there is a small cave within those rocks.”

At this, the five sprinted for the rocks, the wind rushing in their ears. They were nearly there when the storm overtook them. Brown, Hardy, and Worf managed to fling themselves into the cave. Data grabbed the edge of it with one hand, his other just barely holding on to Riker. He tried to pull the commander towards him, but the wind pulled him back.

Their hands suddenly slipped apart. Both of them shouted, “No!,” but it was too late. The storm pulled Riker back, his hands scrabbling at the ground, looking for something to hold on to.

Just before the sandstorm swallowed him up, he managed to grab hold of one of the smaller rock formations, not even noticing its sharp edges digging into his hands. Sand and rock flew around him, his body was lifted into the air, tethered only by his desperate grip on the rock.

Data immediately ran out after the commander-he was an android, after all, and far more resilient than a human. He struggled through the storm, ignoring his teammates, who were yelling for him to come back.

The storm sat still for a moment, and Data could suddenly see Commander Riker quite clearly, holding onto a rock for dear life. He raced to him and this time, got a firm hold of his hand, and pulled him away, sprinting back to the cave at superhuman speed, nearly dragging the commander behind him.

Data flung the pair down into the cave as the sandstorm began moving again. Sand whipped into the cave’s entrance as the storm sat directly atop them.

“Commander!” shouted the frantic voice of Ensign Brown. Data turned to Riker, and immediately saw the issue-he was leaning against the cave’s wall, a hand pressed to his side, which was rapidly turning red with blood. Smaller cuts and scrapes littered his face, product of his brief time in the storm.

“What has happened?” Worf asked.

“Piece of rock...lodged in my side...it came out, in the wind.” His voice was tight with pain.

Each of the crew members tried their combadges again, but to no avail.

“The storm has gotten larger,” Hardy observed. “It’s slowing down a bit. It’ll take a while for us to be completely away from it, for our signals to start working again.”

“So we’re stuck down here for sure?” asked Ensign Brown. “What do we do?”

“May I observe your injury, Commander?” Data asked. When Riker nodded, he gently moved the commander’s hands away from his side and removed his shirt. Blood pooled around the cut, which was deep and jagged and dirty.

“What do we do?” Brown asked again. “That’s a lot of blood, and who knows how long we’re gonna be stuck here!”

Data ran through his medical files and addressed the group. “We must prevent him from bleeding out,” he said. “In Sickbay, there are machines which could fix this very easily, however, we are going to have to use more primitive methods.”

He briefly explained what they were supposed to do-clean the wound, smooth out the edges, apply stitches.

“We should use an anaesthetic,” he said. “But we do not have any, nor do we have anything to disinfect the wound, or to clean up its edges. I have needles, and our uniforms can supply the thread.”

“Could we use a phaser?” Worf asked.

“Negative, Lieutenant,” Data replied. “If we do that, we run the risk of damaging his internal organs.”

“Then just...do these stitches,” Commander Riker said. Although he was now lying down, he felt dizzy, and everything around him was blurring in and out of focus.

“I must warn you, it will not be pleasant.” Data said.

“Do we have a choice?”

They did not. So Data set to work, having evidently been deemed this mission’s doctor. The first step was to clean out the wound-there were particles of sand and fabric from the uniform stuck inside, and these could cause infection.

Data had nothing to clean the wound out with, so he did what he could with his own shirt, turned inside-out to prevent the introduction of more sand into the wound. It didn’t do much, but anything would help.

The second step was to irrigate the wound, which would have to be skipped, as they did not have anything to do it with. The next step would also have to be skipped. It was important that the edges of the wound be made smooth for stitching, but again, they had no tools to do this, so Data moved on to the most important step-the stitches themselves.

He carefully ripped thread from the cuff of his shirt-it was not the ideal type of thread, but it would do. He then pulled out his needle case, which had been stowed safely in his pocket, and selected one which he had not used before.

“We should find a way to sterilise it,” Ensign Brown pointed out. “A phaser might be able to do that.”

Data followed their suggestion and set his phaser to the lowest possible setting, heating up the needle until Brown said they thought it was probably sterile.

As Data poised himself to begin stitching, Brown, Hardy, and Worf backed away, giving them some space.

“This will hurt, I am afraid, Commander,” Data said, as softly as he could.

“Doesn’t matter.”

So Data began the first stitch, pinching together the sides of the cut and poking through the commander’s skin as though it was one of his needlepoint canvases.

As the needle went into his skin, Riker instinctively curled up, jerking away from Data’s hands with a soft whimper.

Data had not heard the commander make this sound before, but he recognised it as a human sound of pain or distress, both of which he was certain the commander was feeling a lot of. He attempted some words of comfort. “It will be okay, it will be over soon,” he said. “But you must not move, or you may make the injury worse.”

Riker nodded and took a shuddering breath. Data began stitching once again.

It did not take many stitches to close the wound, but it did take a while, for although he tried, Riker was unable to completely stop moving, and still jerked slightly at each movement of the needle.

Finally, however, it was done. “I have finished,” Data said. “However, we must prevent you from going into shock. Your legs are meant to be raised, but there is nothing here to do that...just stay lying down, that should be sufficient.”

He gathered up the shirts of his fellow crew members and carefully laid them across Riker, in an effort to keep him warm until they could beam back up.

They stayed in the cave for nearly thirty minutes, unable to get a signal. Commander Riker’s face was growing steadily paler, and every few minutes Worf would have to tap his face to make sure he was still awake.

The away team sat in silence around the commander, none of them entirely sure what to do beyond try to keep their ‘patient’ awake.

Finally, finally, the dust storm passed, and suddenly Picard’s voice was coming through Riker’s combadge.

“Commander Riker, report! Do you hear me?”

Data grabbed Riker’s discarded, bloody shirt and took the combadge off of it. He tapped it. “Data to Picard,” he said. “Five to beam directly to sickbay.” It was only logical for all of them to go, they may have inhaled something dangerous during the storm.

Within seconds, they were all in sickbay, Riker still lying down, the rest of the team crouched around him.

Doctor Crusher ran to them immediately, taking in the pallor of the commander’s face and the crude stitches in his side, and noting the discarded shirts of the entire team.

“What happened? The Captain said there was a dust storm on the planet, but how in the world did you wind up giving Commander Riker stitches?”

Data explained their situation as best as he could, while around them members of the medical team lifted the commander onto a bed and began working on his wound.

“We did not have much of a choice,” he said. “We did not know how long we would be unable to contact the ship, and we could not have let the commander bleed out.”

“Well, we’ve got him now,” said Doctor Crusher. “And he’s going to be just fine, thanks to your quick thinking.”

Data found himself...not feeling anything, as he could not feel, but there was something there, something that was...different. His quick thinking-obviously he thought quick, he was an android, but it had been him to save the commander. He attempted a warm smile at the doctor, who smiled back. “Good job, Data.”

this ending SUCKS but oh well sorry

#i kinda dont like this kinda do #like i wrote most of it yesterday and that part is ok #the ending is kinda abrupt and i hate it but #whumptober2019 #no.11 #stitches #star trek tng #will riker #impaled #blood #my writing #i say things

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inyournightmares97 · 5 years

Text

My Youth (Chapter 4)

Broken and miserable, Park Jinyoung returns to his hometown to learn that no matter how hard he falls, there are still people who think he’s a hero.

Warnings: Mentions of suicide/depression, angst, slow build, maybe some language.(Please don’t ask when I’ll update. Wait until the series is finished to read if you’re impatient.)

Word Count: 5.2k+

(Can’t put links to the other parts here, please check my Masterlist/the reblog for the Prologue and Chapters 1, 2 and 3)

Jinyoung found you crying behind the playground.

You were sniffling, nose red and eyes puffy. You attempted to hide your tears from your friend the moment you saw him approaching but Jinyoung’s sharp eyes had already seen them. He kneeled in front of you; his small hand came to rest on your shoulder.

“Yah. What are you doing back here? I’ve been looking for you!” Jinyoung cried.

You looked up at six-year old Jinyoung and promptly hid your face in your arms. Your voice was muffled when you spoke. “I-I don’t want to talk. Leave me alone.”

Jinyoung withdrew his hand and stood up, placing his hands on his hips. You had always been a bit of a crybaby. One glance at the empty lunchbox next to you was enough for JInyoung to figure out the source of today’s tears. He sighed.

“Did Wooyoung-hyung steal the chocolate cookie your Mom packed you again?” Jinyoung demanded.

You simply let out another sniffle.

Jinyoung bit his pink lips and then sighed, sitting down next to you. He crossed his legs and tugged on your arm to force you to lift your head. When you looked up at him, he had a playful smile on his face.

“Wooyoung-hyung is a big jerk. But you don’t need to cry about him. I’m going to get my revenge on him. Want to know how?” Jinyoung asked cheerfully.

Despite your tears, you were curious.

“H-how?”

“When I grow up, I’m going to become really rich. Then I’m going to hire a bunch of big, muscular bodyguards and send them all to beat up Wooyoung-hyung if he ever tries to come near you. And I’ll buy you lots and lots of chocolate cookies,” Jinyoung promised. He was relieved when a small and shy smile appeared on your face through your drying tears.

“C-can your bodyguards steal his cookies too?” you asked.

Jinyoung beamed. “Of course! I’ll order them to steal all his cookies and bring them to you. You can have an enormous pile of cookies and we can eat them together while Wooyoung-hyung cries and begs us to share one with him.”

You giggled. “Okay.”

“Are you happy now?” Jinyoung asked hopefully, nudging your shoulder.

You pouted slightly and looked down at your empty lunchbox. You had been so excited about the big, homemade chocolate chip cookie your mother had packed as part of your lunch. “But my cookie is still gone,” you mumbled sadly.

“My Mom gave me a slice of cake in my lunchbox. I’ll share with you.”

Your eyes brightened. “Really? You’ll give me half?”

“What?” Jinyoung cried indignantly. “Half is too much. It’s MY cake. You can have maybe, a quarter.”

“What’s a quarter?” you asked innocently.

“It’s when you split something into four parts and then you take one of those four parts…” Jinyoung trailed off and narrowed his eyes at you. “Hey. Weren’t you listening in class when Mrs. Lee taught fractions last week? She explained that a quarter is one-fourth.”

You smiled sheepishly. “No.”

Jinyoung rolled his eyes.. “You’re useless. Come on, let’s go. I’ll even let you have one-fifth of my cake.”

“Wow. Is that more than one-fourth?”

“Sure it is. Five is a bigger number!”

---

Jinyoung wished he could stop hiding.

As he sat on the bench near the school playground and watched the excited children running out to meet their parents, he wondered what it would be like to be one of them.

Maybe it would be nice to be among the young ones: running instead of walking, delighted to be done with another day of school. It might even be nice to be one of the parents: picking up your son or daughter and smiling along with them as they told you about their day at school, feeling proud as they showed you a star or a certificate or some made-up award they’d earned.

Theirs is a small world, Jinyoung decided. A small but happy world.

He kept the hood up to cover his face as he watched all the children and the parents slowly trickle out of the school ground. Jinyoung flinched every time someone looked in his direction but their gaze never lingered on him for long; he felt like a ghost. Was he even visible? Did he even exist here? He wasn’t sure.

Within fifteen minutes, the school ground was soon entirely deserted except for one boy. A small six-year old was kicking around a worn out football on the grass. The kid struggled to make the ball go very far. His legs were small and his aim poor. Jinyoung watched him for a while. The boy’s kicks became more frustrated and one of them finally sent the ball spiraling in Jinyoung’s direction. It stopped a few feet away from the bench.

“Ahjussi!” the boy called out, looking nervous. “Can you kick the ball back over here?”

Jinyoung blinked. It was a simple request but for some reason, his body wouldn’t react. The small boy watched him for a few seconds before running over to collect the ball himself. He clutched the ball to his chest and then stood there for a long moment, staring at Jinyoung with his mouth slightly open.

“Ahjussi…” the boy began again, slowly. “Are you Batman?”

Jinyoung swallowed. “No,” he replied. He felt a little lost. How did one talk to a six-year old kid? He had spent so much time around adults that he didn’t quite know what to say to this mushroom-haired, open-mouthed child in front of him. Jinyoung clenched his fists. “I’m-uh… I’m not Batman. Do you like Batman?”

The boy nodded with a shy smile. “Yeah.”

“Why do you like Batman?”

The six-year old paused and blinked, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Because… Batman doesn’t have parents either. And he’s really rich.”

Jinyoung paused. He doesn’t have parents either? Was this young boy an orphan? He wondered how a child could say something like that so casually when an adult would have felt uncomfortable about it. Jinyoung folded his arms across his chest.

“Do you want to be rich?”

The boy nodded. “Yup!”

“Why?”

“So that I can buy people lots of presents and then everyone will like me!” he replied brightly. The little boy’s eyes shone at the thought. He shifted the worn-out football from one arm to another and then blinked. “My name is Ki-woo. What’s your name, ahjussi?”

“Jinyoung.”

The boy’s eyes widened at the sound of the name. He suddenly looked ecstatic; even more than he had when he’d assumed Jinyoung was Batman. He dropped the ball and came running over to Jinyoung in excitement. “Jinyoung? You mean… like Park Jinyoung? The one who went to this school? Are you Park Jinyoung? I thought he was older than you”

Jinyoung panicked. What? Did even the kids in this little town know who he was? Why did this six year old get so excited at the thought of a businessman? He swallowed nervously and frowned.

“How do you know who Park Jinyoung is?” he demanded.

“Park Jinyoung is my hero!” Ki-woo burst out. “I want to be just like him!”

Jinyoung felt a lump in his throat. No, you don’t, kid. You don’t want to be anything like me. He suddenly felt ashamed. How did this little kid think he was an appropriate role model for anything? Children shouldn’t be looking up to him. Nobody should be looking up to him. He didn’t deserve to be placed on that sort of a pedestal.

“Park Jinyoung’s not that great,” Jinyoung burst out suddenly. HIs tone was acidic. “He’s not a hero. He’s not even a particularly great human so why don’t you go find yourself a better hero? Stick to Batman or something. At least Batman could kill his enemies successfully.”

Ki-woo’s eyes began to brim with tears but he stared at Jinyoung defiantly. “Batman doesn’t even kill people! You don’t know anything ahjussi!” He yelled, upset. Jinyoung was startled when the small boy clutched the football to his chest and began to run away from him. His tiny legs carried him back to the school building just as you emerged from the door.

“Ki-woo?” you asked the red-faced boy in surprise. He was nearly in tears. “Isn’t anyone here to pick you up yet? Why are you…”

Ki-woo ignored you and went back into the school building. You made to follow him and then sighed, thinking better of it. Jackson Wang was in charge of looking after the kids until they got picked up by their parents today, he would handle the problems. You looked up and saw Jinyoung standing by the schoolyard and staring at you silently.

“Did you say something to Ki-woo?” you demanded as you approached him.

Jinyoung blinked at you, dazedly. “What?”

“Why is he crying?”

Jinyoung’s dark eyes went wide and he looked affronted. He folded his arms across his chest.

“What- I didn’t say anything! The kid started some nonsense about how I was his hero so I told him to stick to ordinary superheroes like Batman. Why the hell is a six--year old kid idolizing a businessman anyway? Even if my company used to make cars and electronics, it’s absurd!” he cried, annoyed. You stared at him in disbelief. Who even spoke to a six-year old kid like that? Didn’t Jinyoung have the slightest bit of common sense?

“You’re an idiot,” you told him firmly.

Jinyoung bristled. “Is that really something you want to say to me?”

“I don’t really have much to say to you at all. You’re the one who asked to meet me because you had something to talk about,” you reminded him. Jinyoung’s eyes were still wide and he suddenly lowered them to the ground, as though he was ashamed. He bit his plump lips carefully and you took a deep breath. No. You shouldn’t treat Jinyoung that way. Jaebum’s voice echoed in your head reminding you of the suicide note.

Let me try and be nice to Jinyoung today. It won’t kill me.

Jinyoung took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I wanted to tell you about certain things, I…”

“Do you want to take a walk?”

“Huh?”

“I’ve been sitting all day because I was working on report cards and stuff. I kind of want to stretch my legs.” You pointed down towards the green riverbank under the bridge. “Can we walk? I doubt anyone will see us there at this time of day.”

Jinyoung looked at you doubtfully. You were giving him a soft smile and even though it had been ten years, he recognized the look in your eyes. It was your sympathy look; the look you gave helpless things. It was the look you gave a little kitten before you wrapped it in a blanket. It was the look you gave a crying child before you offered him a lollipop.

It was the look that said don’t worry, I’m here to be strong for you. I’m here to help.

Jinyoung had never imagined he would be on the receiving end of that look. He had always thought he would be the one taking care of you.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Let’s take a walk.”

------

The weather was beautiful but Jinyoung couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to it.

This riverbank had seemed enormous when he was a child. You and Jinyoung had spent many summer breaks doing silly things here. Climbing trees, digging holes and finding worms. He remembered your favourite game in the second grade. Jinyoung had played the evil dragon that had would steal and hide the gold and you were the brave knight who would fight him and retrieve it. The pair of you had tried switching roles but you hadn’t been able to do the evil dragon voice quite the way Jinyoung did.

Even while playing pretend, you had never been able to be the bad person.

“This place used to be much bigger,” Jinyoung mumbled as he stepped over a tree root.

“No, it’s the same as it always was,” you told him dismissively. “You’ve just probably seen much bigger lawns and bigger rivers now so your perspective has changed.”

Jinyoung bit his lip. “Huh.”

“I see you’re still wearing this awful hoodie,” you commented, tilting your head in order to be able to see his face underneath it. At least Jinyoung had foregone the mask for today. His pink lips and soft skin were visible. “Do you even wash this thing or do you have multiple identical black hoodies? Is that a thing celebrities do?”

Jinyoung’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “It makes me feel safer.”

“It makes you feel safe to come to a school dressed in a black hoodie and looking like a kidnapper?” you replied with a raised eyebrow. “A few of the parents came inside today and told me there was a creepy man hanging around in the school yard. I convinced them you were a repairman waiting for all the kids to leave. You’re lucky nobody called the cops.”

Jinyoung flinched. “They’d call the cops just because I’m wearing a black hoodie?”

“The cops in this town don’t have very much to do.”

Jinyoung took a deep breath and tilted his head up towards the sky. He squinted at the bright sunlight and then parted his lips to let out a soft, tired sigh. “I guess I can’t hide from people in this town forever. Still, I want to enjoy this while it lasts.”

“You don’t seem like a guy that’s enjoying himself.”

Jinyoung glanced at you sharply. “Don’t I?”

“Not in the least.”

Jinyoung looked down at his hands and then stopped walking. The ground sloped down into a small, grassy hill and he sat down on it carefully while wrapping his arms around his knees. You paused and then sat beside him. The river rumbled softly.

“What did you want to talk about?” you asked him finally. You had hoped that giving Jinyoung a bit of time would prompt him into opening up but he hadn’t said anything significant until now. He leaned back and let out a dry laugh.

“Nothing you don’t already know,” Jinyoung said. His eyes squinted down at the river intently in order to avoid your gaze. “Jaebum probably told you already but I decided that I should preserve my last shred of dignity by telling people myself. The only thing worse than everyone finding out that I lost my entire life’s work is everyone finding out through the papers.”

You turned to face Jinyoung fully. His hands were trembling again, even though his face betrayed very little emotion. Fear.

“How did you lose everything?” you asked quietly.

Jinyoung laughed drily. “The same way most people in this country lose everything. I got fired.”

You stared at him in disbelief. That made no sense. “How the hell does someone get fired-”

“-from their own company?” Jinyoung asked. His tone was condescending. “Come on, you know better than that. I started the companies but I don’t own them. It was my intention to keep them private companies in order to retain a certain amount of control but… the possibility of expansion was too tempting. I wanted the investment too badly so I took a calculated risk. We went public three years ago.”

You blinked and nodded. The entire town had been delighted when the news of Jinyoung’s company going public had emerged. A couple of the townspeople had contributed money to invest in a small number of shares as a gesture of support.

Jinyoung probably had no idea they’d done that.

“I remember reading about GOT Tech going public. Your IPO was wildly successful. Everyone was desperate to buy the stocks of GOT Group companies because the predicted growth rates are always so high. That was when your company became big enough to compete at the international level,” you pointed out.

Jinyoung blinked at you in surprise. Did you keep up with things like that? He hadn’t expected you to. In fact, he rather hoped that you didn’t know much about what he did.

“When people give you money, they get a say in what your company does,” Jinyoung explained bitterly. “It stopped being my company when we went public. It became the shareholders’ company. And they don’t care about integrity and they don't care about long-term investments. They want quick profits. They want dividends that they can pocket. They want returns and they don’t want to wait for them. The Board of Directors are the same. Greedy bastards, every last one of them.”

“So they fired you?” you demanded.

Jinyoung sighed. “I fought against their proposals for taking over a bunch of other companies. It’s common industry knowledge that some of these companies are only making profits because they’re corrupt. Why should I bring those corrupt people and corrupt systems under my company and risk them messing up my business? I wanted to keep things clean. I didn’t want to expand just for the sake of expanding, I wanted my business to grow organically and steadily. The Board of Directors don’t agree and they decided that they wanted me out. In fact… they’re probably sitting in a meeting this very moment and passing the final resolution that will dismiss me.”

“That can’t be legal. Don’t you have evidence that they’re taking over corrupt companies?”

Jinyoung looked at you in disbelief. “Do you think those companies will just hand over the evidence because I ask nicely? I’ll only get access to records like that once we take them over. And by then they’ll be a part of our company so exposing them would only destroy us.”

“So they decided to fire you.”

“They fired me,” Jinyoung replied. His voice was trembling and he closed his eyes for a moment. “They took the companies I built from scratch over the last decade and they told me to get lost. They took my hard work and my name and my reputation and threw me out onto the streets.”

“And you’re sure this is legal-”

“You think I didn’t try to fight it?” Jinyoung snapped. His eyes were red as he glared at you and you could hear the anger in his voice. “I tried, I tried so much. Jaebum is one of the best corporate lawyers in the country. He looked over every single aspect but fuck, if the Board of Directors wants to fire someone then they can fire someone, okay? It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let those greedy men on the Board. I shouldn’t have gone public just to get more investment.”

“That’s not your fault,” you muttered. “They-”

“They’re going to organize a press meet tomorrow,” Jinyoung said quietly. “To announce that they decided to fire me. It’s probably going to say things like I was acting against the interests of the company and that my management abilities were sub-par. They’re going to take every chance they can to humiliate me and the press will drink it all up. The public will drink it all up.”

“But you did the right thing-”

“Nobody cares,” Jinyoung hissed. His hands were trembling harder than before and he turned to look at you. Jinyoung’s dark eyes suddenly revealed everything. You could see the pain and the vulnerability hidden behind his pride. How had he hidden that so well?

“Do you think people care what’s right and what’s wrong? They care about success. I’m a failure. I’m that stupid, young CEO that fizzled out too early. I’m the guy who rose up too quick and then got booted from his own company. I’m the guy who spent ten years building something and then had it taken from me like a piece of candy.”

“So you decided you had nothing left in this world and to kill yourself?”

Jinyoung flinched. “No.”

“Jaebum told me about the suicide note-”

“I was angry!” Jinyoung defended himself. He turned and looked at you. “I couldn’t bear the thought of letting them get away with it, of letting them profit from my hard work for the past ten years. I thought maybe if I killed myself then it would get them enough bad publicity to ruin the acquisitions.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “That is the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard anyone say. How could you even contemplate-”

“Relax,” Jinyoung cut you off, his voice growing quiet. “Turns out killing yourself isn’t exactly easy.”

You fell silent at that, not knowing how to respond. Part of you wanted to reach out and give him a hug. Another part of you was afraid that he would push you away. What would a hug do for a man who thought he had lost everything and returned to his hometown in disgrace? Jinyoung simply stared down at his hands and then suddenly let out a soft, low chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” you wondered.

“I guess it was harder to keep it all in than let it out,” Jinyoung admitted. He turned to you and suddenly, his eyes were softer. “I can’t tell the general public or the media why I opposed the acquisition. I don’t have any evidence so it’ll just be considered slander and they’ll sue me. Everyone’s going to think it’s my fault. I guess I just wanted a few people to know the truth before the articles come out and I’m ruined.”

“Who else have you told?” you asked. “Does your mother know?”

Jinyoung closed his eyes. “It’ll break her heart. She thinks her son is a successful businessman.”

“No. She thinks her son is happy.”

There was a long silence. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to comfort Jinyoung. You couldn’t help but feel that had this happened ten years ago then you would have known exactly what to say to your best friend. But now your mind was blank. You could only stare at the man who had dedicated his life to chasing success with sympathy.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jinyoung muttered. “I hate that look. That look of disappointment. Everybody’s going to give me that look from tomorrow onwards. Even that stupid- even that stupid kid at your school who think I’m his hero. How’s he going to feel when he finds out his hero is a failure?”

“You don’t know how Ki-woo is going to feel,” you replied quietly. “Because you don’t even know why you’re his hero.”

Jinyoung scoffed. “Because I’m rich and successful?”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No.”

“Then-” you paused because your cell phone rang. You checked the caller ID: Jackson Wang. You noticed Jinyoung peeking at your phone and answered quickly. “Hey, Mr. Gym Teacher. Is everything okay? Huh? Ki-woo? Still? Yeah, I’ll… I’ll take care of it. Sure. Tell him to wait in the schoolyard and I’ll send someone to walk him home. Yeah. Bye.”

You hung up and noticed Jinyoung watching you curiously. He averted his eyes when you looked at him.

“Can you do me a favour?” you asked Jinyoung lightly.

“Huh?”

“I need a favour. That kid from earlier, Ki-woo. He’s from the local foster home and the social workers can be careless sometimes, they forget to send someone to pick him up because they have so many other kids. Can you take him safely to the foster home?”

Jinyoung winced. “Me? I’m not good with kids. You do it.”

“I have a lot of other work to do,” you replied. “Besides, you owe me.”

“I owe you?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow is your Mom’s birthday. You forgot, didn’t you? Don’t worry. I ordered the cake and I arranged for all the food. Your Dad is going to grill the meat. We’re throwing a barbecue party at your house with all the neighbours,” you told Jinyoung simply.

His eyes widened in horror.

“You can’t invite all the neighbors over to my house! The news about my getting fired is coming out tomorrow, how can I face everybody after-”

“You can,” you told Jinyoung firmly, glaring at him. “And you will. You know why? Because you owe it to your mother to do something for her birthday besides reminding your secretary to buy her an expensive, luxury gift that she didn’t even want. I’ve seen those handbags and perfumes. She doesn’t want them. She just wants you to be there and I don’t care if I have to drag your dead body to the party, you will come. You don’t even have a job right now so I’m not taking your excuses.”

Jinyoung blinked at you. “Wow.”

“What?”

“I don’t remember you being this scary. Is it because you’re a teacher now?”

You smiled at him lightly. “Well. At least you’re not pretending to have forgotten me anymore.”

He frowned. “I wasn’t pretending to have forgotten you, I just-”

You waved him off quickly with a smile. You had made your decision. Park Jinyoung didn’t need a shoulder to cry on or somebody to pity him. He didn't need to be babied around or validated. What Jinyoung needed was someone who could show him that his priorities were messed up and that he needed to get his shit back together.

It appeared nobody was up for the job but you.

So be it.

“Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow at the party, then!” you replied, standing up and dusting off your pants. “I’m headed that way to the bus stop. Take good care of Ki-woo!”

“You’re not seriously expecting me to take the kid home-”

You nodded. “Of course I am. And while you’re at it, do yourself a favour. Ask him why Park Jinyoung is his hero.”

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

Jinyoung wondered why this little kid made him nervous.

He walked into boardroom meetings and international conferences without breaking a sweat but this small, six-year old kid who was standing alone in the schoolyard and waiting for someone to pick him up made Jinyoung’s hands tremble. He took a deep breath and walked up to Ki-woo.

“Hey, kid. Your teacher sent me to take you home.”

Ki-woo looked up at Jinyoung dully and nodded. “Okay.”

Jinyoung wondered if he should take the child’s hand but decided against it, keeping his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets while Ki-woo clutched his football and hurried to keep up with him. The boy stared at the ground as he walked, shuffling his feet. Jinyoung took a deep breath as he slowed down his pace.

“Hey, kid.”

Ki-woo looked up at Jinyoung silently.

“I’m, uh… I’m sorry about what I said earlier. About Park Jinyoung. You can pick whoever you want to be your hero,” Jinyoung muttered. He noticed how Ki-woo’s dull gaze softened and became a little more hopeful. “I just thought that Batman would be a cooler choice than Park Jinyoung, that’s all.”

Ki-woo blinked. “Are you really sorry?” he wondered.

“Yeah.”

“Adults don’t usually say they’re sorry,” he mumbled.

Jinyoung sighed, wondering what this poor little kid had been through to have never heard an adult apologize. “Yeah? Well, they should. Especially when they do something wrong. So I’m sorry.”

“I guess it’s okay, ahjussi. But I still want to be like Park Jinyoung someday. He’s really cool.”

“Why do you like Park Jinyoung?”

“Because he’s King of the Playground!” Ki-woo replied brightly. The light had returned to his eyes and it suddenly struck Jinyoung how easy it was to make a small child happy. Ki-woo bounced on his feet in an attempt to keep up with Jinyoung’s long strides. “Haven’t you heard the story of how Park Jinyoung became King of the Playground? Our teacher told it to us during storytime!”

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow. “She did, did she?”

“Yeah!”

“I’d love to hear it.”

Ki-woo bit his lip. “I’m not very good at telling stories. But I’ll try! So a long time ago, there was a little boy who went to this school and his name was Park Jinyoung,” Ki-woo began excitedly. “He was a really nice and smart little boy but he didn’t talk much and he didn’t have a lot of friends.”

Jinyoung couldn’t hold back a smile. “I’m sure he had at least one friend.”

“Well yeah, I think he had one friend but nobody else in the class really talked to him or his friend,” Kiwoo replied dismissively. “And sometimes the older kids would try and bully Park Jinyoung and his friend but Park Jinyoung could never stand up to them. But! Park Jinyoung had a super-power that nobody else knew about!”

“Did he now?”

“Yup! Park Jinyoung was really brave. So one day during recess, even though he’d never climbed a tree in his life, he decided to challenge the old oak tree. None of the older kids could climb the tree because they got too scared after a while. But Park Jinyoung really wanted to be named King of the Playground. So he just started climbing the tree and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed,” Ki-woo explained excitedly.

“Mmhm. Did he get very high?”

“He climbed so high that the other kids could barely see him!” Ki-woo cried. “So they started chanting his name to encourage him! And then Park Jinyoung finally reached the top of the tree and he wrote his name there!” Ki-woo cried. “He became King of the Playground!”

“So Park Jinyoung is your role model because he climbed a tree?” Jinyoung demanded with a laugh. He suddenly felt lighter; a soft laugh rumbled in his chest. Of course a child didn’t care about a businessman or his money. Theirs is a small world, Jinyoung remembered suddenly. “Do you want to become King of the Playground too, Ki-woo?”

Ki-woo nodded. “Our teacher says that after he became King of the Playground, a lot of kids wanted to be friends with Park Jinyoung. He had a lot of friends but he never stopped being best friends with the girl who was his friend before he climbed the tree.”

“That was nice of him,” Jinyoung mused.

“And you know the coolest part?” Ki-woo asked, eyes twinkling.

“What?”

“Nobody ever beat Park Jinyoung’s record after that! Our teacher says it’s been nearly twenty years but not a single kid could climb higher than Jinyoung. So he’s still the King of the Playground,” Ki-woo explained wistfully. “I wish I could be that cool. I wish I could have been King of the Playground for that long. I wish I could be King of the Playground even for one day.”

Jinyoung felt his stomach turn as he remembered how proud he’d been when he climbed the tree. If somebody had told Jinyoung when he was six years old that his record would remain unbeaten for twenty years then he would have cried in joy. And this small child, all these years later, admiring him for a feat that he had forgotten he’d ever accomplished.

“I think you can do it, Ki-woo,” Jinyoung told him quietly.

“Huh?”

“I think you’ll be able to beat Park Jinyoung’s record someday.”

Ki-woo smiled up at him hopefully. “Do you think the other kids will want to be friends with me, then? I wish I had more friends.”

“I can be your friend.”

Ki-woo blinked. “But ahjussi, you’re old.”

Jinyoung frowned. “Hey. How do you plan on making friends if you’re going to be that picky?”

Ki-woo looked thoughtful for a moment and then shrugged. “Okay. I guess we can be friends. Will you promise to share your cookies with me?”

“I promise.”

As Jinyoung listened to the little boy chatter on, and pictured you sitting with a classroom of six-year olds and telling them about Park Jinyoung, the King of the Playground, he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face and the warm feeling that exploded in his heart.

Maybe, in the thirty or so years that Park Jinyoung had spent on this earth, there were other achievements he’d left behind.

Small ones, yes.

But achievements all the same.

----

#got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 scenario #got7 angst #park jinyoung #got7 jinyoung #jinyoung scenarios #jinyoung scenario #jinyoung angst #got7 fanfiction #got7 drabbles #got7 series #got7 imagines #jinyoung my youth

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hurt-care · 5 years

Text

Back Home

It’s a Lupin-fic drop around here today. Here’s another old favourite

Set during Prisoner of Azkaban

It was three days after his transformation and still Remus Lupin felt terrible. While he was now able to avoid some of the less pleasant parts of the full moon with the Wolfsbane Potion brewed by Snape, his body still had to undergo the transformation that rearranged his bones and organs and left him exhausted and weak. The last thing he wanted was to miss more than his allotted two days of classes recovering, so on the third day he dragged himself out of bed despite a blossoming head cold and forced himself to shower and dress.

He was used to the concerned looks of students and fellow faculty alike after the full moon, but the looks on the faces of his first class told him that he looked worse than usual.

“Are you alright, Professor?” George Weasley asked when Remus had managed to clear his throat and speak loudly enough to settle down his class of fifth years.

“A touch of cold, that's all,” Remus replied and set the class working on counter-curse spells while he wandered up and down between their desks, adjusting wand positions and correcting pronunciations while struggling not to cough on anyone.

By the time his third class of the day filed into his room, he wasn't certain he could be on his feet much longer.

“Professor Lupin?”

“I'm fine, Hermione,” he said, looking up wearily from his spot hunched over his desk. “Just a cold.”

“Err, alright...I'm sorry...I just was going to ask how long you wanted the essay to be?” she said, rocking on her heels as she looked at him with an expression of growing concern.

“Oh...um....sixteen inches I believe I set it at.”

“Is it okay if I have twenty?” she asked, holding out a long piece of parchment as several students holding markedly shorter papers behind her groaned.

“That's fine,” Remus replied, taking the parchment and adding it to the pile of assignments on his desk. He cleared his throat and spoke as loud as he could, hoping the rest of the class could hear. “If the rest of you can turn in your assignments, we'll get started.”

The rest of the class deposited their papers on his desk while Remus tended to his dripping nose with a rather well-loved plaid handkerchief.

“Err...Professor?”

He looked up from behind the shield of soft cloth to see Neville Longbottom gazing shyly at him as he held out a fresh white handkerchief.

“Um...do you want an extra? My gran always packs too many in my trunk. I'm not very good at cleaning spells so she thinks I need about a dozen more than I really do. I mean, the house elves clean them if I need so...um....anyway...”

Remus lowered his own handkerchief and smiled wanly.

“Thank you, Neville,” he said, accepting the starched white square of fabric. “That's very kind of you.”

He tucked the handkerchief into his robe pocket for inevitable future use.

“Alright, everyone,” he said, standing and holding himself steady with a tight grip on the back of his desk chair. “Apologies...my voice is a bit off today so please keep it down so everyone can hear. We're going to start out with recognizing cursed objects. If you could please turn to page....hehh...”

He paused mid-sentence, lowering his red-tinged nose into the sleeve of his robe.

Hurhh-TSGHH!

The sneeze tore out of him with a thick, throaty sound and he coughed twice afterwards to regain his voice. A quiet chorus of blessings came from the students along with a few small snickers from (Remus suspected) Draco and his friends.

“Sorry,” he said with a sniffle. “Page thirty six. Read the chapter and then we'll discuss.”

He sank back down into his desk chair and flipped through his teaching notes while the students read. With his head propped up by a hand, he barely realized he'd started to doze off until a voice piped up from amoung the students.

“Um....Professor? I think we've all finished.”

“Mhm?” Remus muttered, blinking away fatigue. “Oh...right. Sorry. Alright, who can tell me three ways to check if an object is cursed?”

How he managed to keep the class going for another hour he wasn't sure but when he finally dismissed them they filed out into the hallway chattering and laughing. Harry turned in the door long enough to give Remus a small smile before he followed Hermione and Ron out.

Remus rose, joints cracking in protest, and gathering his papers into tattered briefcase. He had forty minutes before his next class and while the idea of popping up to his quarters for a quick kip was tempting he knew if he went back to bed he'd only find it harder to go return to work. Instead he headed for the Staff lounge with his case in hand.

He was nearly there when he ran into the school matron, Poppy Pomfrey. She'd been a new staff member when he'd started at Hogwarts as a boy and had been instrumental in making the arrangements to accommodate a werewolf at the school. They'd grown close during that time and she was one of the only people he'd kept in touch with during the many years since he'd graduated. Even during the years when he went silent, sending no word of his location or doings to Dumbledore, he'd managed to send word to Poppy that he was still alive and making do.

“Hello, Professor Lupin,” she said, looking him up and down with a calm expression.

“Hello, Madam Pomfrey,” he replied. “Just headed to the Lounge for a break. Care to join me for a cuppa or do you have to get back to the Infirmary?”

“I do have to get back, and I think you ought to come along.”

“Oh, no, I think I'll just see if Minerva is around.”

“Remus Lupin,” Pomfrey said, her voice gaining an icy edge to it. “The infirmary. Now.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Madam Pomfrey,” he said with a small smile. “I appreciate the concern but I'm perfectly fine. I've got a class in forty minutes so I really must be going so I have time for tea.”

“Mister Lupin,” she said, stepping in front of him to block his path towards the Lounge. “Now.”

He felt about fourteen years old again under her piercing gaze. He exhaled, breath wheezing from his lungs in an exasperated sigh.

“Fine,” he relented. “For some potion or whatever you recommend, but I've got to be back by two.”

He followed her down to the Infirmary and stepped inside the familiar ward, heading for the third door on the left. It was one of the private rooms reserved for teachers or students with contagious ailments. It had been his usual resting place after full-moons during his school days where he could be attended by the Matron without revealing his scars and wounds to other patients.

Madam Pomfrey followed him into the room and shut the door behind her.

“Robe and shirt up and off please,” she said, taking up a quill and parchment from a pocket on the back of the door. They floated beside her, ready to record an assessment.

Remus tugged his robe up and off so he sat on the edge of the hospital bed in his trousers and button-up.

“It's just a cold,” he said hoarsely.

“Shirt up,” she repeated. “I need to hear your lungs and heart.”

He sighed and pulled the shirt up and off. If he hadn't been listening for it, it would have been easy to miss the sharp intake of breath from the Matron when she saw his pale torso marred with more than double the number of scars than he'd had when she'd last examined him. The giant puckered brown gash on his side, inflicted the first moon after James and Lily's death, stood out particularly stark against his milky skin.

Circling behind him, Madam Pomfrey inserted a small device into her ear and pressed the tip of her wand to his back.

“Breathe in as deeply as you can,” she instructed. He could practically feel her eyes boring into the jagged scar on his lower back where he'd almost impaled himself on a stair railing in a wolfish rage one Halloween almost seven years ago.

He took a deep breath, feeling his lungs crackle and wheeze in protest. It came rushing back out with a sputtering cough and Madam Pomfrey withdrew her wand quickly.

“Temperato!” she said, touching her wand briefly to his brow as she came around to face him again. A small gold ribbon floated from the end of her wand, twisting into a number Remus couldn't clearly see. The tutting sound Madam Pomfrey made when she saw it told him enough.

“I'll send word to Dumbledore that he'll need to find someone to cover your last two classes today.”

“No,” Remus said, reaching for his shirt to put it back on.

“Yes,” Pomfrey retaliated. “Don't fight me on this, Remus, please.”

In an unexpected gesture, she reached out and smoothed the hair back off his forehead. It was a touch he hadn't felt in years...not since his mother had died...not since Sirius and James and Peter had met him in the mornings after the moon...

“I'll have a house elf bring down your pyjamas and dressing gown,” she said as the quill scribbled furiously on the parchment floating at her side. “I'll get you some potions to help with the congestion and the coughing and to bring down the fever. I think your body just got a bit worn out from the transformation. Nothing to be ashamed about, Mister Lupin. Your classes will be fine. I trust you have lesson plans?”

Remus nodded, swallowing hard to bury the growing lump in his throat.

“Good,” Pomfrey said. “I'll go send for you things, then. Shouldn't be long. Get your lesson plans from your case and I'll send them along to Dumbledore to arrange.”

“It's just a cold,” he reiterated as he pulled his lesson plans from his case and handed them over. “Couldn't I just rest in my room?”

“If you wish, but I'd rather have you here to keep an eye on you for a few hours. These potions shouldn't react with the Wolfsbane but I'd rather be safe and monitor things,” Madam Pomfrey replied, giving Remus' lesson plans to a House Elf who appeared with a 'crack!' at her summons.

“Bitsy, please bring these to the Headmaster and then go to Professor Lupin's room and fetch his pyjamas and dressing gown for me, please.”

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey,” the House Elf said eagerly, taking the papers and disappearing with another loud 'crack!'

“That's settled, then,” Poppy said to Remus, taking her parchment notes and tucking them back into the pocket on the back of the door. “Get changed and into bed when Bitsy returns and I'll be in shortly with the medicines.”

Remus nodded mutely and watched her go. The House Elf reappeared only a short while later with his favourite button-up flannel pyjamas and robe in hand. He pulled the pyjamas on and settled into the single hospital cot. It was weirdly like returning home to sleep in his childhood bed, he thought as he settled into the pillows.

Madam Pomfrey returned after a few minutes with a tray of potions and smiled as she saw him tucked up in the bed.

“This is a strangely familiar sight, Mister Lupin,” she said affectionately. Remus couldn't help but smile back.

“Yes, but I've got a few more grey hairs than—ehh........”

He paused, nose crinkling in anticipation of a sneeze. He took up his handkerchief from its place on the nightstand and tucked it over his nose to catch the outburst.

Ehh-TESGHHTT! Nghh-TSGHH!

With a thick sniffle he wiped his nose and finished his thought.

“I have a few more grey hairs than the last time I was here.”

“Bless you. Me too,” Poppy replied with a laugh as she set the tray down and began dosing out the potions, handing small cups over for Remus to drink. He swallowed each dutifully, putting on a brave face despite the unpleasant tastes.

“That's a good lad,” she said, gathering the tray back up and depositing a few lozenges on the nightstand along with a decanter of water and a glass. “Get some rest, Remus.”

He slid down under the covers obediently and watched her go, shutting the door as she went.

Sleep was quick and when he woke again, it was dark outside and he was coughing harshly. Tears blurred his eyes as he hacked, doubled over in bed with his knees tucked up as his chest heaved and strained to clear. A comforting hand was on his back, guiding him up to sit and putting a glass of water to his lips. In a moment of confusion, he tried to figure out who the soothing person was...his mum? Lily? He could feel the cool hand press to his forehead as the coughs calmed and he sat, leaning against the headboard panting and wheezing.

Ghhh-TSGHHH!

His head snapped forward and he sneezed freely towards his lap with a harsh explosion.

“Bless you!” the person said, putting the hand on his back again and rubbing a small circle. “Poor lad.”

His eyes finally opened and focused. Ahh...right. Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey.

“Sorry,” he croaked.

“Hush,” she said. “Lie back down. I'll get you another dose of Cough Ease.”

She disappeared momentarily and came back with a spoonful of thick liquid. She put it to his lips and he swallowed the bitter syrup.

“Are you warm enough?” she asked, adjusting the quilts across his legs. He gazed up at her through fever-added eyes and nodded. How long had it been since someone tucked him in? Brought him medicines? His eyes were drooping closed again and just as sleep took him once more he was sure he heard her sigh softly.

The next time he woke there was a bowl of soup on the nightstand kept warm with a charmed tray. He sat up and moved the tray to his lap, eating the hearty broth slowly and feeling the warm liquid loosen the congestion in his head.

When Madam Pomfrey came in to check on him, he was blowing his nose with strained, partly productive honks. She gave him a sympathetic smile and checked to see he'd eaten his soup.

“If you'd like to return to your own bed for the night, you're welcome to,” she said, pressing that same soothing hand to his brow to check that the fever was gone. “I'll send up some more potions for you before you go to sleep.”

He considered the option but shrugged and looked at her with a boyish smile.

“Do you mind if I stay here? I don't want to take up a bed but if it's okay...”

She looked secretly pleased by his decision.

“Of course!” she said. “Stay until you're well.”

He nodded gratefully, settling back down under the quilts. As he snuggled into the pillow, he felt her hand pat his back gently like she used to when he was a boy still frightened from the transformations and in too much pain to sleep. A swell of affection spread through his limbs at the touch.

“It's nice to have you back, dear,” she said as she moved to leave his room again.

He made a sound of agreement from his nest of blankets, unable to find the words to express how utterly grateful he was to be there. For so long he'd avoided visiting, fearing the castle would be too filled with the memories of his friends and forgetting that it still held people who cared for him. He nodded back to sleep filled with a feeling of love for the first time in a long, long while.

#dustyfic

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friday12econlive · 3 years

Text

Opportunity Cost of living on campus vs. home while classes are virtual

Student: Lily Tucker

ID 41832437

Background Information: In June of 2020, UCI announced it plans for the school year being that almost all undergraduate classes would be conducted virtually, with the exception of some graduate classes and labs taking place in person. While instructions were to be held online, UCI was allowing students to live on campus in single dorms. Unfortunately, with less available space for students to reside on campus, they were not able to provide housing guarantees to students.They were still committed to providing students with as normal of an on campus experience as possible, despite being in the midst of a pandemic. When the announcement of virtual learning and single dorms was made, many students withdrew their housing applications and decided to stay home for the year.

Opportunity Cost: In life when people make decisions they face trade offs. When considering what direction to go in, people tend to compare the cost of one action over another. This cost is not always a monetary cost and might take some thinking to figure out. The opportunity cost of a specific decision or item is what you give up to actually acquire that thing. When making decisions, it is important to look at the opportunity cost of taking each different option. Sometimes there isn't an obvious answer because you might benefit from both situations, so you have to take into consideration which route causes you to lose more than gain.

Opportunity cost of Living on Campus:

The income I would not receive having to quit my part time job which would be around 35 hours of work a week

To me going to work was pure enjoyment, so I would miss out on all the fun I had there

The experience and knowledge I could gain from an entire years worth of work

The time I would no longer be able to spend with friends and family back home

The 17,000 dollars I would spend towards my living expenses

Opportunity cost of Staying Home:

Missing out on any on campus experiences

Not having the ability to connect and make as many friends

Having less resources (educational perspective) available to me

Less time devoted to studying because I am working

The freedom I would have being away from my parents and the experience of having to navigate living alone

When making a decision there is a potential for seeing benefits from selecting one action, while also facing the losses from the other choice. In my case, the pandemic faced me with the choice of living on campus or staying at home. I had to consider the direct opportunity cost of each option to figure out which would best for me financially and mentally. If I decided to go on campus I would have to spend 17,000 dollars and also stop working. Not only that, covid allowed for the ability to attend school from wherever you are in the world, so I would lose the one time opportunity of gaining a year's worth of work situation experience by having to quit. When considering the opportunity cost of staying home, there were no obvious monetary losses, but rather missing out on certain encounters. Being home would make it difficult to make meaningful friendships as you are not seeing any of these people in person. Additionally, my focus would not solely be devoted to school as there are many more distractions staying home (working while attending school as well).

Each option I was faced with a cost. I would be giving up on certain benefits to experience the others. It was just up to me to decide which outcome had more significant opportunity costs.

Conclusion:

After contemplating both options and their opportunity costs, I decided to stay home for the 2020-2021 school year. I saw more benefits to my life by attending classes from my house. I valued the work experience higher than the friendships I would make this first year, knowing that I could just start my sophomore year of college. Additionally, I was understanding that I wouldn’t put work before school and if I ever did fall behind, I would make myself take some time off. The most obvious reason for my decision was that it was more financially smarter. Not only would I save the money spent on my housing but I would also get extra income from being able to work. Now that I am nearing the end of winter quarter, I firmly believe that I made the correct decision on my living situation for this school year.

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101scenes · 7 years

Text

CEO! AU Wanna One Park Ji Hoon

featuring: park jihoon, lee daehwi

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 1,700 words

summary: he found himself being allured by you, wanting to know more about you. he would always try to stop himself, but he was extremely captivated by your aura. it was soothing to him, extremely calming to his 5 senses.

suggested: yes!

you entered the doors of the same reputable school that everyone in the entire state talks about. shoremont business institution, is where you were at. it was the most prestigious school in the state, home to many sons and daughters of well-known business companies that would soon take the helm years later after graduating. even though you were the daughter and soon-to-be chief executive of a gigantic smart device company, you still felt inferior compared to everyone else. maybe it was because of park jihoon.

ah, park jihoon. one of the smartest, cutest, but most cunning boys in school. despite his adorable looks and innocent smiles that he gives to everyone, he was the complete opposite. being the oldest son of another famous smart device company known worldwide, he was destined to take over the throne. to think people would bash him to bits by now. he has the power to end ones reputation in a split second, destroying their company and most likely ruin their life. everyone was the puppets and he’s the puppeteer.

you rummaged through your locker to find your economics textbook. even though you were the daughter of a prestigious company, it didn’t mean you’re the most organised, or even the smartest. you were pretty average on every class you attended, though your father always instructs you to try harder and put in more effort. however, there was something that you had that many other students do not. you were pragmatic and sensible. you were not driven by greed or ambition, but rather for the good of everybody. you are a great listener and an amazing adviser, though many people don’t know that.

while walking to your first class, you waved and greeted many other students on the way there. you were quite popular in school, being the captain of the badminton team and secretary of the student council. everyone seemed to be on good terms with you, knowing you were someone they could trust and count on. everyone but park jihoon.

for some reason, he always had despised you. it was probably because your fathers were the owners of rival companies, both in the same industry. you didn’t seem to care much about that. you focused more on treating people the way you would like to be treated, and maintaining amazing friendships that you have fostered.

sliding open the door to your classroom, you were immediately greeted with a crude remark, right from park jihoon’s lips. “hey look, its y/n! nice costume, i didn’t know it was halloween yet,” jihoon exclaimed, grabbing the attention of the quarter-full classroom. there were a few giggles, but mostly just people looking at him in utter confusion. jihoon’s friend, lee daehwi, sighed. “sorry about that y/n, i think jihoon forgot to take his ‘stop being so rude’ pills this morning,” daehwi stated, rolling his eyes. jihoon turned to daehwi in disbelief. “tch, i’m not being rude, i’m being truthful. thank me later y/n,” jihoon scoffed, and headed out the door. “psht, it’s okay daehwi, i’m not affected by his remarks. thanks again,” you said with a smile, heading towards your designated seat.

your everyday routine included jihoon passing disparaging remarks about you, attending class, going for lunch to be teased by him again, class with him teasing you, then end of school. and since he lives in the same direction as you, you get some on the way home too.

despite all that, he’s a major flirt. there was a rumour that he had 6 different girlfriends at once, but no one could confirm that. he enjoyed making a girl flustered, to the point where he would make them fall for him, then easily throw them to the curb. everyone is wary of that, but girls seem to fall for him easier and easier.

the following week, you expected to enter economics class once again to face his scornful comments. maybe it’s about your hair, or your choice of clothing. he can probably pin-point anything and switch it into an insult. however, when you entered the classroom, jihoon was at his desk, talking to daehwi. while walking to your desk and saying hello to everyone, you take a glance at jihoon. he was staring right at you, took a quick wink, smiling straight after. he expected you to blush immediately or hide your face like the rest of the girls he had ever spoken to. but you stared right at him, and winked back. you had no idea why, you thought it was funny. placing down your books on your table, you took a glance around the room, then to jihoon. he looked a mix of confused and offended, with his ears fuming red. but you probably thought daehwi made him do “jeojang” again, so you took a look out of the window, waiting for class to start.

right after economics lesson, as you were heading out of the door, jihoon came over and flung his arm right around your shoulder. “hi y/n, how was your day?” jihoon asked, smiling. you didn’t think much of it, but it was probably another one of his games to make you crush on him. it worked on everyone, and the exception was you.

you looked at him, and grinned back in response. “i’m doing okay,” you said, matching your footsteps with his. it was a good silence for about 5 seconds before jihoon grabbed the stack of textbooks in your arms. “no i can-” “i insist,” jihoon says, plastering the same smile that all the girls love. you could see why girls love it, it was adorable. but nothing really sparked in you.

the next few weeks included jihoon following you around. he began walking you from class to class even though his lesson may not even be in the same block, and joining you while you do student leader patrols around the school. he would sit with you during lunch in the library, where he would play around while you would read new novels. he would also wait in school for 2 hours just for you to be dismissed from your student council meeting, then walk you home. you weren’t complaining, it was nice to have a friend accompanying you.

through the experience, you two would talk about anything and everything, sharing problems with one another. since you were such an amazing listener, jihoon found himself sharing more and more about himself, though it was not his original intentions. in turn, you shared about yourself too, and jihoon found himself being allured by you, wanting to know more about you. jihoon would always try to stop himself, but he was extremely captivated by your aura. it was soothing to him, calming to his 5 senses. steadily, he became attracted to you, though he did not want to admit it.

as another economics lesson rolls along, a project was assigned in groups of three. naturally, jihoon probed you to join him and daehwi, which you agreed to. you three decided to meet at jihoon’s house after school the next day to discuss about the project. it was the perfect time for jihoon to carry out his plan.

the next day, you arrived at his house in casual wear. since his parents were on a business trip, he thought it was okay to invite you over without starting a dispute with his parents over betrayal. it was a requirement to dress smartly when going to school, but jihoon found it refreshing to just see you in a hoodie and plain shorts. your hair was in a mess and you were bare-faced with a pair of glasses on. though you may find that a bit unglamorous, jihoon found it so enthralling just to see.

once you both took a seat upstairs in his room, you began waiting for daehwi to arrive. since you had finished a portion of the project, jihoon allowed you to rest while he caught up with the work he had to complete. taking the rest time to your full advantage, you decided to catch a nap as you had 4 hours of sleep the previous night. soon, you quickly fell asleep.

“hey, y/n, how’s your dad’s company doing?” jihoon asked with a hopeful tone, only to hear silence as a response. he took a peek over his laptop screen, seeing you fast asleep with your arms resting on the edge of his bed. jihoon couldn’t help but to smile. walking to sit beside you, he leaned his head right onto his bed as well, turning his head to see your face. jihoon thought your face looked really pleasant when sleeping, and he couldn’t help but to reach his hand out to touch your face. you didn’t seem to notice, which caused him to giggle in response. “oh y/n, what do i do with you,”

he sat in silence while you still continued resting, taking occasional glances at you. “y/n, the more i see you like this, the more i want to cry,” jihoon said, as tears welled up in his eyes. he looked at you and smiled even though he was hurting. he covered his eyes with his hand, allowing the boiling tears to flow down his cheeks. at this moment, you jolted awake.

“jihoon?! wait, why are you crying?” you asked, leaning closer to jihoon. “n-no..thing..” he trailed off, now covering his entire face. you removed his hands from his face, seeing his eyes swollen with crimson. you opened up your arms, and enveloped him into your embrace. you slowly pet his hair, calming his trembling breaths. “y/n, i’m sorry..” he whispered in between breaths.

you pat his back, telling him to explain the reason for crying. “y/n, please don’t hate me for this..” jihoon said, turning away, breaking the eye contact. you nodded in response, wrapping your arm around his shoulder and front, patting him occasionally for comfort. “i wanted to.. get closer to you so i could get information about your company,” he murmured. you withdrew yourself from his figure. “but after spending so much time with you, i..” he continued, turning to you and holding your hands.

“i think i have fallen in love with you.”

BFFFFF WHAT A CHEEZY ENDING

it’s not really as angsty as i thought :/ maybe im more of a fluff kinda person ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

>> requests are currently closed

#wanna one #wanna one scenarios #wanna one scenes #park jihoon #wanna one jihoon

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