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iznsfw · 1 year

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Fic idea: Mommy contest eunbi vs irene

Predator & Prey

Part Four of Dulce Periculum | Previous Part | Next Chapter

Red Velvet's Bae Joohyun (Irene) x IZ*ONE's Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader Smut

7,994 words

Categories | principal!Irene x (jealous)girlfriend!Eunbi x student!You, mommy kink, cunnilingus, oral double blowjob, snowballing, cumswap, degradation, female cucking

Surprise, it was a spoiler! Had to move the time to avoid posting in the night lol So... this is dedicated to @subfortwice, who ignites the Dulce Periculum universe, @idevian whose tutor Eunbi ask started it all, to my birthday twin @eunbisrabbit who had the idea of the collarbone thing, and to best boi @sinswithpleasure. I appreciate everything and every one of you guys! And again, sorry for the usual self-indulgent style that the whole Dulce Periculum series is based on XD and the barely edited fic. Eunrene just drive me crazy

“You little brat.”

That’s the first thing you say the next time you see Eunbi at school. Not even a “hi” or a “how are you,” but when she’s set you up to fuck her teacher and led you into a trap, it’s definitely a nice way to open your little story. This tiny little thing of a story going down, down, down the rabbit hole.

(Holes.)

It’s all her fault. She’s conveniently fended off your questioning of the incident at the Kwon household. Now, however, with her parents nowhere to save her from your schemes, you’ve got your eyes on her. Soon, your hands will be, too. She can’t escape now.

Eunbi squeals in fear and excitement when you run after her. Alright, so maybe she can escape. That’s fair. You bump through masses of walking students, trying to find her in the crowd. It's impossible to not identify her when her glasses and wavy hair give her away, so your eyes remain locked on her like a sniper. Your hands just itch to get on her.

Students pass you weird and amused looks. You and Eunbi, after all, are always on some dumb shit. However, you care not for it especially if ignoring them leads you to finally cornering your girlfriend in the backyard school garden. It's a dead end—no windows or doors are here for her to attract help. She's laughing, too, and screaming a little as you pin her to the high school building wall.

"Mmm, oppa," she giggles between her squirms and struggles, "stop—"

"You think you were slick, Eunbi?" you ask. Your fist keeps her wrists above her head. What a pretty little twist of fate—if she lured you into the trap that's Kim Taeyeon, now you're the one tying her up into your makeshift trap. It's more satisfying than seeing Jo Yuri get scolded. "For whoring me out to that teacher you're so obsessed with?"

She nods mindlessly. "Yesss."

"Brat." Kiss her. She giggles. Of course, that prompts several other kisses. "That's what you are, you know. A little fucking brat."

Your chest fills with happiness at how she smiles and laughs despite your teasing words. She knows you'd never do anything to hurt her. It's all a little fun play of words. A little skit, to be more truthful.

Speaking of, there's some factualness to your words, too, and she knows it. Eunbi's crushed on Taeyeon for too long and sees her as an actual mommy that she isn't jealous of your little getaway with her at all. She's probably prouder than you'd assume of her idea.

But of course, she denies it. Denies it with every inch of her annoyingly gorgeous body.

"Can you please forgive me, oppa?" Eunbi's eyes gleam. "I promise I won't slut you out to mommy again, I pinky promise!"

She's wearing the uniform Taeyeon borrowed, and thinking of how there's still some of your teacher on it, that there's a good amount of your cum embedded into its fabric, makes you more turned on than you should. Eunbi with her arms up in her tiny uniform is an added factor.

But then there's also a few more classes to attend. You can't fuck her here. You'd love to more than anything, yet Eunbi has her priorities, and you don't want to hold her back.

Release her hands. "One day I'll get back at you," you warn. "You're really gonna get it."

You let her off with a warning. You can be the cop here—you'd cuff her hands with your fingers, tack them to a wall or mattress, teach her a lesson. Tear that cheeky smile off her face and replace it with the lewdest expression. But you're a good cop, or at least, as good as one can get. You know it's what she wants: to be punished incessantly, so you're not giving it to her. It would be putting out fire with fire.

You turn her heel to leave. Like so, you leave her unfulfilled and needy, which is exactly how you want her to be.

"Oppa!" whines Eunbi. She runs after you. "I'm sorry!"

You shut your eyes and laugh. In hindsight, you really shouldn't have. It would have shown you a dash of a shadow mooring and watching, and prepared you for what will happen later on.

Let's just say later on a letter is written. You and Eunbi don't know it yet, but there is a letter—it's written in rehearsed formality, sent to the principal's office, and given by a person who's got more control than they should have.

So, again, just for context: there's real parchment sent to her that ties this whole story together. There's a dual meeting, and a whole lot of evidence. Keep that in mind.

It's one giant teenage hell in the classroom.

The boys are gaming on their phones with the Filipino exchange student, who introduced them to League of Legends. The girls have flocked to the bathrooms arm in arm, while the others stay behind to braid some of their classmates’ hair. There’s messy chalked writing on the blackboard, some too explicit to even be allowed (“Wan-pipty for wan subo," courtesy of the Filipino student, of course, and although you don’t understand his language, you have a good idea of what it means), and others promoting their favorite K-pop groups (“stan BLACKPINK, you uncultured fucks!!!!!”, to which someone has replied: “Doesn’t everyone?”).

But what else can you expect from a batch of eighteen-year-olds, especially when it’s vacant time?

That's right: exactly this.

Either-which-way, it’s a complete mess, is what you’re saying. There's no one around to keep the noisy mess contained, not even Eunbi, who's trying to vent her frustration through doodling on her notebook. She’s already drawn several plotless comics and a rabbit named Bi, but the noise still gets to her. It irks her soul so much that her hands squeeze up and loosen too much of a grasp on her pen.

Click. It bounces back up. You catch it with one swoop of your hand. You could be Spiderman in another life. Watch out, Tom Holland, or whatever.

“God,” she says, looking up from her notebook with a frustrated, sarcastic smile, “do these people ever shut up?”

You chuckle. You’re an open fan of Eunbi breaking her kind, forgiving character and just growing tired of everyone’s bullshit. It’s an occurrence rarer than thunder coming before lightning, a once-in-a-lifetime show only a select few are allowed to see. She’s too kind, really, that although she's the lead role, she bails out of it often.

Gesture to the messy classroom and say, in a matter-of-fact voice: “Welcome to senior year.”

“Can you tell them to be quiet?” she asks.

“Miss Myoui said only you can.” Quote her: “‘You’re the president, right? You go tell ‘em.’”

Right, Eunbi says to herself. She’s been wrapped up in too many responsibilities—captain of the volleyball team, president of every school club you can think of, plus end-of-the-year valedictorian just to name a few—that she forgets that these positions even hold meaning. It’s the norm for her to be given the highest positions in each category that it’s quite tiring, if she were to be honest. But she has her mother to please, along with herself. She can’t let either of them down.

Sighing, she leans back into her chair. “I just wish everything would, like, stop for a moment.” She closes her eyes, as if to dream of that being possible. Unfortunately, the world goes on with or without the fantasizing. “I wish I could get a break.”

“Hey.” You pat her thigh and caress it above her short school skirt. “Cheer up. You don’t have to be so excellent all the time. You can just,” wring a hand in the air for emphasis, “you know, be okay. Average.”

“But my mom…”

Sigh. You realize it’s easier said than done. While your parents are lenient and have gotten used to your low grades, your girlfriend’s aren’t that nice. You know that from your visits to the Kwon household. Her mother and father try to be subtle about the pressure, but there’s something in the air that passes and tenses that tells you there’s a lot more to the situation than you think. Whatever it is, it's clear that being a Kwon isn't that fun.

Sometimes you wish you could trade places with Eunbi and withstand her problems for her. You hate seeing her like this.

“Your mom?” a menacing new voice asks. “Or would you rather say… mommy?”

Eunbi’s eyes open suddenly and enlarge. She recognizes that word, and unfortunately, she remembers using it on someone she shouldn't have been with. So do you, for which you turn your gaze upwards.

Of course it’s Jo Yuri. She’s your mortal enemy dressed in deceiving innocent school uniform. She’s wearing a knowing smile on her face. It always means bad news, and right now, the main topic of it is you.

What does she know? Most importantly: why did she say that?

In your anxiety, you can’t even defend yourself or your girlfriend.

“Y-Yuri—” stammers Eunbi, the look in her eyes being one of a deer caught in headlights. She’s a terrible liar at heart, so even if she were able to finish her sentence, it would have come out oddly. Probably even add up to proof of her guilt.

Yuri smirks proudly. “I know all about your dirty little secret, Eunbi,” she says. “About what you did with professor Kim while everyone was at the Intrams… about what you called her…”

Every step she takes rounding your cluster spells trouble, and you can’t say you didn’t bring it upon yourself. However, you're still scared to death.

“Cut it,” you say. Even for a troublemaker, your voice trembles. Not a good look… er, sound, rather. “We don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Your head races with anxious thoughts and distress. How did Yuri know about that little session you had with Taeyeon? Were you guys that loud? Perhaps she had a source or spy nearby? You've no idea which one it is, and that's what scares you more than the consequences.

Eunbi's silent, refusing to speak. She looks anywhere but Yuri's eyes. Her ears are red and it's impossible to denote anything from the two of you but obvious guilt.

“Oh, is that so?” Yuri pouts mockingly. "Guess you'll have no reason to talk to principal Bae right"—she checks her watch, then smiles widely—"now."

The speaker attached to the wall of your classroom buzzes, catches the attention of everyone and says: "Will miss Kwon from 12-A and her boyfriend please come down to the principal's office?"

Okay, so maybe you are scared of the consequences just as much as you're scared of how Yuri found out.

Everyone's looking at you now. How could you feel so cold yet so hot at the same time? Everybody's eyes are burning holes in your skin, and your spine's undergone several chills that you feel numb already.

Are you even alive?

Your breaths are bated and Eunbi's shifting in her seat nervously. You should have seen this happening. Yuri's had a vendetta against the two of you ever since you and Eunbi got together. She's haughty, she's proud, she's rich—and for that, she's got her sources everywhere, can even manipulate official school results through pure influence. You hate yourself for being a terrible boyfriend and letting this happen to Eunbi.

Yuri smiles as you and Eunbi rise from your seats. She waves goodbye at you coyly, and leaves everyone in the room confused. Each one of them, even the boys gaming at the back, are wondering the same thing word-for-word: what happened?

You don't speak while taking the stairs with her, and neither does she. You don't tell her that you're dizzy from the curving paths and she doesn't say how cold her hands are. However, you both know so, since you're both reluctant and afraid to meet the principal and didn't expect it to reach this point. It's your fault and hers, equally split, the modern day Adam and Eve. Could Yuri be the snake? Would God banish you?

Probably, but you had it coming.

The steps you take are slow. You're afraid of what might come. But you suppose nobody's more afraid than Eunbi. She's the face of the school for the honors she's achieved. Everything can go wrong with one wrong move, and that's what this is. She put everything on the line, not expecting anything to happen, only for it to be taken all away.

Once you reach the ground floor, Eunbi suddenly grabs your wrist. Her small hand can only wrap around half of it, but her hold is tight. It carries meaning in its tightness, urging you to look at her.

"Oppa, j-just want to say…" She looks down at her school shoes in shame. "I'm sorry for pulling you into this."

You're not mad at her. You can never be. You're just… regretful. If you hadn't let lust propel your actions, maybe there wouldn't be reason for the two of you to be down here. You've been sent to the principal's office countless times, but this is the first time you're actually scared. What more when it's with Eunbi? She's never gotten in trouble before.

"Don't be," is all you say. "Let's just get it over with, okay? Together?"

Mold your hand to fit hers, and she's smiling again, in spite of what's about to come.

You make the first move to knock. Eunbi nearly cries as she watches your knuckles meet wood. You wrap an arm around her and enter.

Long time, no see. Bae Irene's office is as grand as ever. Seems like this is where the tuition fees go: grand marble floors, a statue of a naked Greek goddess, and a fine desk that sits in the center of the room. Certificates, awards, and medals stack the shelves and walls that put even Eunbi's achievements to shame. Perhaps they're what intimidate her more than the woman standing in front of the desk.

"Good afternoon, miss Bae," you say.

In certain angles, the principal looks just like Eunbi. Or maybe it's the other way around? The glasses don't help differentiate them. That makes you understand why people have a theory that there's a kind of narcissism in Irene that made her put Eunbi as the face of the school.

What else can you expect from Irene, anyway? She's older, wiser, and tougher. The last one bears repeating. That by itself should be good enough justification as to why you shouldn't have fucked Taeyeon, why you shouldn't be such a troublemaker. God knows she's tired of seeing your face in here. She’d expect Eunbi would have a good influence on you, but instead, you've turned your poor girlfriend into a nymphomaniac.

Maybe everything about this is your fault after all.

Irene knows this. "You've turned your girlfriend into one of yours, hm?" she asks. Rhetorical question or not, all three of you know the answer. "First time seeing you here, miss Kwon."

"Miss Bae," says Eunbi timidly. She's trying a diplomatic approach here—it's all she knows in navigating life. Unfortunately, it won’t work here. "We're sorry. It won't happen again."

She smiles condescendingly. "So you know why you're here."

Irene's peaceful yet scary tone is exactly the reason for her English name, derived from the goddess of peace. She looks the part, too. Her pale skin can be the marble used to carve her most holy altar, and her sharp gaze can be replicated in it. She's like an older and more intimidating counterpart of Eunbi. She's smart as well, but not afraid to show it.

"I—I’m sorry," Eunbi says, realizing she's cornered into confession. It's as if all her speaking skills have evaporated in this room. It makes her nervous; you know so because her hand’s almost deathly cold in your touch. "We'll do anything to make it right."

Irene clicks her tongue. "It doesn't work that way, miss Kwon. You two had sexual relations with a teacher. It isn't something that can be resolved with community service."

How did she know? You think and think, and all your suspicions, though they jump from Taeyeon (she's in the wrong here, too, so why should she be suspected when she's at as much risk in getting trouble?) to Minju (why the angel, out of all people?) to anybody else, all lead to one person:

Jo Yuri. Of course it was her. But how?

You suppose that doesn't matter now that you're in Irene's office again. What's worse is that you brought Eunbi with you, the one person you swore you wouldn't toss into all your trouble. It feels like betraying her and everything your relationship has promised.

"Look," you say, taking a step forward, "we're sorry. Really. But please just let me take the blame. Suspend me or something. Just please don't hurt professor Kim or Eunbi, miss Bae."

"How touching, Kim Taeyeon's got you head over heels for her. I wonder what made you like her that much."

"Nothing, miss Bae. It was… just a one-time thing."

"I see, so the word 'mommy' doesn’t ring a bell?"

You stiffen. So does Eunbi, suddenly losing grip of your hand and losing her balance a little. In conclusion: yea, that word rings not only a bell, but a whole fucking gong in your mind.

Of course, Irene sees through this and rolls her eyes to heaven, as if she were making fun of you telepathically to an unknown deity. "Oh, so it does, huh?" she says, lifting her hands in the air. It's obvious, really, and she should have expected it. "Of course. One woman treats you like shit during sex and you drool for her. Of-fucking-course."

Your professional principal daring to curse in front of her students catches you off guard. But you know that, despite this, she's right. There are a lot of deeply internalized issues in you and Eunbi that would have reserved the right to be connected to the fling. These issues are the reason you like Taeyeon after all, but justifying the situation using them won't help your case at all. Irene doesn't take kindly to beggars of pity.

She walks over to the two of you. You subconsciously back away. It's instinctive, and you really should have gone through with what your gut tells you when the woman continues.

"I wonder how you ended up with miss Kwon then, if that's your type." Irene approaches her lookalike and laughs a little. "This little girl can't even get on top without begging for your dick five seconds later."

"That's not true," Eunbi stutters. She tenses up when the older woman strokes her shoulders. "I, I take control all the time, miss Bae. You can't just assume…"

If whatever's going on weren't putting your life at stake, you'd let out the biggest laugh to ever be heard by man. It's just insanely untrue. Eunbi's the most passive girl you've had the blessing to be with. It's just not in her to dominate in the bedroom. Debates and civil arguments in school are all things she tops, but when it comes to you, it's just out of the question.

"Then show me," Irene says. Massaging the girl's shoulders, her smirk creates a new punishment for you to abide by. "Show me how you control your bad little boyfriend."

The anxious, whimpering Eunbi has no time to think about how fucked up this is. She grabs your shoulders and pushes you to Irene's desk. She kisses you clumsily, tearing your uniform with shaking hands.

Her lips create a path downwards your chest. She unbuckles your belt and drops to her knees. You breathe through your teeth when her mouth works itself on your cock. Down, up, down, up, and a sweet little kiss at the tip. Perfect for you, but not for your principal, who has higher standards, apparently.

Irene smirks, shaking her head pitifully. "Darling," she says before she kneels before you, too, "you really don't know how to do this, do you?"

Eunbi shakes her head. The fact that she's ashamed is, unlike her claim earlier, not a lie.

"Ah." In a sudden affectionate and motherly act, Irene rubs the student's thigh. "You're better off being a good little girl, is that it?"

"Mmm. Yes."

“You’d rather be your oppa’s submissive little doll? Do anything he wants?”

“Y-yes, miss Bae.”

"That won't do here. You have to pay for what you've done, or else it wouldn't be fair."

Eunbi whines. Is it in protest or pleasure? Irene's fingers have crept under her skirt and to regions they're supposed to be restricted from. The cause is probably a mix of both, but you can guess what they're doing when you see Eunbi grinding down on your principal's hidden hand.

"How about this?" Irene offers to you. "Miss Kwon and I will take turns on you. We test out who can dominate you better, and whoever does gets to do whatever they want to the rest."

"Miss Bae—"

Irene pulls her fingers out of Eunbi and spanks her. Your girlfriend gasps and her hips flinch. Yeah, apparently, there's no way to back out of this. "Close the door, slut. Lock it. You, shut the blinds. I don't want to get in trouble for fucking you spoiled brats."

There's truly no resistant bone in Eunbi's body with how quickly she scampers to the door. You can't say you're any better. You and your girlfriend obey the principal's orders like you're her pets, and perhaps that's a little true. Maybe this is the beginning of something new. Something a little screwed up, yeah, but new.

Whatever this is, you hope it'll get you out of getting your life royally fucked over. You used to not give a damn if that ever happened, but when Eunbi's on your side, you become more cautious.

(If you were in a better state of mind, you’d recognize how having sex with your principal can and will contribute to your cautiousness going to no avail, but you’ve got two gorgeous women kneeling in front of you. What else is better than this?)

"Sit down." Irene pushes you down her swivel chair. "We're gonna have fun with you first. Call this a little," she winks, "practice session."

Your heart almost stops. You're thrust down even more into the cushion, and the foreign feeling of the principal's tongue provides an aching rush of blood to your cock. Meanwhile, Eunbi attends to your heavy balls, licking and sucking at the sensitive flesh.

Your skin is on fire. The two beautiful women smear their salivas on your erection. Their tongues collide at times, making Eunbi recoil in shock at times, but not for too long that your penis is devoid of attention. Irene doesn’t mind at all. She’s fine with the occasional dab of her tongue on Eunbi’s mouth, and coating the sheen of saliva she’s left with more. No inch is left needy—while Irene teases your base with sharp licks between smirks, the other girl sloppily makes out with your dickhead.

"Stop. You don't want your boyfriend here to think he can do anything he wants to you.” Irene’s rough fist stiffens the mast of your erection, and although it's pleasurable, it's also painful. Her speed is too much for a start to the show. "You need to put him in his place. Do it because you want to feel good about it, not him."

"B-but…"

"I'll show you."

Eunbi departs from your crotch and Irene does… well, nowhere near leaving, that's for sure. It's like your cock was just liquid streaming down her throat with how fast she takes you in. Her mouth is small, but she swallows it all expertly. Her hands tie your thighs down to the chair.

Being in Irene's mouth is a wet dream. Literally. Her slick tongue and cheeks rub your tip. They're just appetizers for the main course: her delectable throat that's thin and tight on you. She's almost forcing you to deal with her relentless blowing, betting her career that you can't withstand it. She doesn't need innocent, Bambi eyes to make it appealing when she has that goddess-like face, yet you have to prove her wrong.

But then she wraps her soft, jutted lips around your base and elegantly slides them up with puckered suction. She's not even fucking your rod with her throat anymore and you automatically say something you shouldn't have:

"Mommy, please."

Irene stops and smiles at Eunbi. "See what I'm saying?" she says with overflowing satisfaction. "It just comes naturally to him, doesn't it? Now it's your turn. Make me proud."

The pupil obeys. When has she ever done anything but that? You aren't complaining, though; her pretty mouth ranks up in their competition.

The two women are so different in so many different ways. Eunbi's gentle blowing, her eyes glimmering with broken innocence that always dart to your face to see if you're enjoying, is far from Irene's harsh one. She bluntly licks at your tip, sparking precum to drip into her mouth, before she slowly takes it all in. Again, widely different compared to Irene's experienced swallow, but who's keeping note? You sure aren't; you're just glad to have the best of both worlds.

"That's a good girl," Irene says. She gathers Eunbi's hair into a makeshift ponytail to help her out. "Don't be afraid to go a little crazy. If you do a good job I might just play with your cute little pussy."

Eunbi shuts her eyes and moans. Your breath is long gone with how her soft, pleasured sounds vibrate on your cock. If that weren't enough, she's lifting her head up and down with a pace that's a little quicker than before, nudging your cock deep inside her mouth. It's past that, actually; your cockhead slips down the end and bears the overwhelming feeling of her airway blocked by your girth.

"M-mmmph!"

"Aw, poor girl's choking," Irene remarks mockingly. "What's the matter, miss Kwon? Can't take it?"

Eunbi tries to surprise her by taking it all down. Unfortunately, it’s too much for her. Instead, she whimpers and chokes.

While she gags, you moan without shame. "I'm gonna cum, baby," you announce. Your cock feels like it's going to burst with her throat spasming around it.

Her lips tighten around your tip. It successfully manages to flow your cum directly into her mouth. Irene jacks you off to help out. The younger girl's mouth is soon flooded with the natural waterfall of your cum. It could turn into a natural disaster; Eunbi’s already struggling to save all your load.

"Don't swallow it. Come here."

Irene forces Eunbi's face to hers and kisses her deeply. Your girlfriend's hands are frozen in the air as they share your cum. The older woman’s hand imprisons her jaw in place so she can greedily collect your cum from the passive mouth. You see the shimmer of your semen as it’s passed from one tongue to another, hear the breathy moan of your girlfriend, feel your cock become more solid.

Irene swallows whatever she's gotten and, as an end to the makeout session, licks the other girl's plump, cumstained lips. "Ah, you’re really delicious," she says. "And your girlfriend's so cute. No wonder professor Kim likes you two so much."

You’re still in shock at the sight, but the mention of your professor gets you to make another comparison with said woman. She and Irene are alike, too, but differ so much as well. They’re both violent, but at least Taeyeon has a nice streak in her; she attended to you after the violent copulation in the classroom. Irene's gentle gestures are done only to please her will. But even with those contrasting traits set in the Venn diagram, you can't choose between the two of them: the dominant principal or the quietly pretty professor?

Irene pulls Eunbi's hair mercilessly, yanking her head backwards and exposing her beautiful neck. "It's just too bad that she's terrible at being a mommy," she murmurs. Her fingers trace the large tits threatening to burst out of the buttoned fabric. "Such a perfect body for it, but completely useless."

"Oppa, that's not true, right?" asks Eunbi, squirming. "I'm good at being your girl, aren't I?"

"Who was a better mommy, baby boy? Me or her?"

It's not even a question. As much as your heart is biased towards the girl who owns it, it's obviously—

"You, mommy."

"Oppa!" Eunbi protests. She looks genuinely hurt. It's the first time she's ever been second place in anything, and it hits her right where it's already sore.

Irene's grin is smug. It's beautiful, but actually terrifying. It's a sign that everything will only go downhill from here. "What should I do with you two now, hm?"

"Please,” says Eunbi. Struggling to compose herself now that the principal is playing with her breasts, she fights to say anything without moaning. “Please give me one more chance, mom– miss Bae… please, I'll be good—oh, I'll be so good—"

Your principal drags Eunbi up by her hair. "Stand over there if you're so good, mommy." One swift push sends her stumbling to the edge of her desk.

Eunbi, sniffling through her tears, awaits her next order. There's something in her face aside from the wet tears; it's a tale of how much she wants to be as good as Irene at using you that competes with her desire to please her. She's been a people-pleaser all her life, and it's hard to break its shackles, especially when Irene orders her to grind herself down the end of her desk, with one rule:

“Don’t cum until I say so.”

The panties slip off her plentiful thighs. She closes her eyes as she settles her nub over the edge of the wooden desk. Slowly, she starts to move.

"F-fuck." Eunbi places a shaking palm over her mouth.

"Exactly what your boyfriend's going to do to me," quips Irene. "See, this is how you put a man in his place."

She tears her pencil skirt apart with no hesitation. After, she confidently sits on your lap, filling her cunt to the hilt. You tense up; her round ass on your lap is a blessing alone, but when it comes to her cunt, it’s a whole heavenly reward. Although Irene speaks and acts with nothing other than confidence, if not arrogance, her pussy is too tight for your cock to even pulse. When it barely does, her textured velvety walls cease it with a firm clench.

“Holy shit, mommy. You’re so”—between gritted teeth, you groan and rest your hands on Irene’s ant waist—“fucking tight.”

“I know,” says Irene. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

The whole situation is sinful. Watching your girlfriend having nothing to do but touch herself on the inanimate object and helplessly watch the two of you fuck is one thing, but Irene’s perfect ass on your lap is in another world. Galaxy might be more accurate. The melody of their moans causes you to struggle in keeping yourself from cumming too fast, but it’s already a challenge with Irene’s pussy fucking itself on you. She’s as tight as she looks, and probably would have been the ruinable type if she weren’t the way she is.

She leans back into your chest and caresses the side of your face with a surprisingly gentle hand. With timed movements, she lifts herself off and on your erection. Her folds splay apart to welcome you inside, into a whole, slick world. “I guess he’s all mine now, yeah?” she asks Eunbi. “He seems to like mommy better, Eunbi-ya.”

When she’s fingered and forced the girl to sexually stimulate herself on her table, there’s no need for even the polite formalities. There’s not even a chance for it to resurface when Eunbi’s already tearing up.

“Oppa likes me, too,” she says. The jealousy brewing like a potion cauldron inside her drives her gyrations on the desk to go faster. It’s a fucked up coping mechanism for the sight in front of her. “You still like me best, don’t you, oppa?”

“Of course… fuck”—forget what you’re saying when Irene grinds her hips in circles and bounces her ass cheeks into your lap—“of course I do.”

She certainly knows her way around a dick. Her seductive rounds on your crotch and the measured riding just tell you that she’s had way more than enough experience in this realm, which, in terms of that, places her first. Eunbi’s a sore loser who doesn’t like that fact, but you can’t rig her a place anyway.

“But listen to how he’s moaning, babygirl,” Irene points out. You really don’t intend to moan again in order to avoid hurting Eunbi’s feelings, but Irene keeps a consistent squeeze of her vaginal walls on you and makes all go awry. “He loves my pussy. He loves it when I use him. I presume it’s not the same when it’s with you?”

Try to shut her up by rubbing her clit, but she only murmurs a series of “yes”’s. Besides, the damage, although fired from simple words, is already done; Eunbi’s quivering bottom lip is as clear as day.

“He loves me,” she whines. She squeezes the table tighter, as if the vicinity of the wood can help magick up a proper way to get her to become the mommy she just isn’t. “Hnn. He, he likes me because I’m a good girl.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Irene says, her sarcastically rolled eyes unimpressed. “You’re young. You should know being good is outdated. If he likes it, then he shouldn’t be fucking me right now.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” you say. You stop thrusting upwards into Irene, but she keeps bouncing. The stimulation remains constant.

You really can’t find your way out of this. Irene’s weight, though light, keeps you on the chair and void of anything to do to break it all up. Your legs already feel weak at her pace. It’s as if she’s completely unaware of how tight and wet she is and therefore subjects you to it, thinking that you can handle it. But of course, she’s an intelligent, self-aware woman—she knows her effect on you, and she isn’t hesitant to exploit it.

Eunbi sobs as she grinds down the edge of the table harder. She can’t take watching you and Irene fuck anymore. "Mommy, please.”

"’Mommy’? Not putting up a fight anymore, are you, pretty little girl?" Irene asks. She pouts mockingly. "Gonna give up?"

Eunbi shakes her head. "No…"

"Alright, if you aren’t, use me. Use your boyfriend. We’ll see what happens."

Your girlfriend bursts into tears. It’s no mere tear sliding down her cheek anymore. It’s a whole fiasco of whiny crying and childish protests. Of course, it’s not in her to fight Irene. She’s remained a diplomatic civil debater, not a physical one. At times she doesn’t even counter an argument, similar to now, when she weakly replies, "B-but I don’t know how.”

“Come on. You’re smart, aren’t you? You can win over me.”

“Mmm, please just let me cum, mommy. Please."

"Do it. I dare you."

"Mommy—"

"Do it."

"I—I can't!" Eunbi says this in a tone that’s nearly a scream as she struggles to keep herself standing. "Please don't take him away from me, I'm a good girl, I swear, I swear!"

“Oh, look at her, baby.” Irene strengthens the force of her riding. It draws you nearer to an orgasm. “She wants you so bad. She wants to be your mommy so bad.”

Eunbi’s explicit moans and Irene’s soft gasps contribute equally with the silken pussy in draining you. You fill Irene up to the brim. As she stands, white drips down her naked legs.

“You want to be a mommy so bad?”

Irene slips her fingers inside herself, scooping out white liquid, then walks over to the quaking valedictorian. Under the guise of the skirt, she sticks the cum-stained fingers into the needy little hole.

“Then fucking be one.”

“Mommy!”

Eunbi screams when Irene stuffs her cunt and fingers her violently. Her legs close together, and suddenly she’s creaming all over the fingers moving unabashedly inside her. Wetness is wrung out repeatedly, and strings of arousal connect and disconnect between the joined fingers.

“Mommy, miss Bae, hnnn…” mumbles Eunbi, mind fogged with pleasure, “mommy—”

“Shhh, that’s a girl, miss Kwon,” Irene says as she offers the nectar-coated fingers to the girl’s mouth. Eunbi gladly accepts.

To your surprise, Irene seems gentle this time. She pats your girlfriend’s back firmly, even wiping the drool on her lips. Maybe it’s the satisfaction of making both a girl and a boy orgasm. That’s all you can guess.

“You haven’t fucked me like you did mommy,” Eunbi protests. “I want you, too, please?”

“You heard the girl,” Irene says. She’s all for another go. She seems to be the only one not tired between the three of you. Her arrogant smile has not once lost its shine. “She wants to be fucked. Or do you not like her little pussy the same way you love mine?”

That triggers Eunbi to look up with tearful eyes. “Oppa, do you…?”

“Of course not. You can have me all you like.”

“Darlings,” pipes in Irene, “you seem to be forgetting someone here. That isn’t part of the deal.”

Of course. You’re still under the invisible contract she set. As the obvious winner of the battle of wills and domination, she gets to have the nicer end of the deal: to do anything she wants with the two of you. Whatever happens here has to involve her. No one’s going to be left out here.

How should it go?

“I want that mouth on my pussy, miss Kwon,” decides Irene, sitting on her throne (AKA as the swivel chair.) “And I want you to fuck her. Really fuck her. I want to see her break.”

So that’s how it goes, since Eunbi’s too kind to propose another way. She crawls between Irene’s legs, greedily eating the cum out of her, while you pound her from behind.

Eunbi’s wide hips are just irresistible. They fit right into your hands and serve as anchors to pull you in and out of her. The skirt, instead of infuriating you with how much it blocks your view of her ass and grippy pussy, drives you more insane.

And when you look up, there’s Irene, with her legs spread wide for Eunbi to stay. It’s nice of the deities to create a world where there are so many beautiful women, and for two to be right by your side currently. Maybe you gotta thank the Greek statue that’s privy to the whole thing—you’re pretty sure she’s part of the whole god gang. Whatever.

Irene’s hands aren’t sedentary. They tug onto the wavy hair for its owner to tongue her core more. The pussy-eating thing is an act of jealousy from Eunbi, really—part of the reason she agreed to eat her out is so she can drink your cum straight from where you deposited it. Safe to say it’s a win-win situation.

“Fuck, you’ve got a good mouth, miss Kwon,” says Irene. She bites her lip, and hisses. “Just like that.”

Even with all she’s done to her, Eunbi mewls in appreciation. Or maybe it’s your cock causing that. Yeah, definitely your cock. You make it a purpose to stretch her out and keep her pretty cunt stuffed. Gently stimulate her bundle of nerves for her skirted ass to reverse back into your crotch.

“Oppa—” Eunbi says, her voice reaching another high pitch due to the pleasure.

“I didn’t say you could stop,” Irene sharply reminds her. “Don’t stop or he won’t fuck you anymore.”

Eunbi gets back to work, moaning after you penetrate her again. You may have fucked Irene, but she still remains in control here. She just solidifies her place in the little contest she and Eunbi had. Your girlfriend, ever the grumpy loser, vents her frustration in eating her principal out, evoking broken gasps from her.

“Aw, don’t be too jealous, Eun,” you say to Eunbi. Her tight pussy is an everyday heaven you, a sinner, are given a free pass to relish in. “You’re still my good girl.”

You can feel her cunt tighten at your words. Eunbi closes her eyes and whimpers while she sucks on Irene’s clit. Her nose presses against the older woman’s flat stomach.

“She really likes being called that, huh?” chuckles Irene, ruffling Eunbi’s hair.

“She does.” Thrust into her particularly hard. “She’s a sweet girl.”

Eunbi’s body trembles. Unable to deal with the flood of praises, she tonguefucks Irene’s hole harshly, suppressing her heavy breaths in the pink flesh.

“Is that what you want to be, miss Kwon?” Irene allows Eunbi to take a breather and lifts her chin up, but renders her breathless anyway with the next set of words. “Mommy and daddy’s sweet little girl?”

The girl’s walls twitch around you, and you hear her whine again. She’s always like that, the poor thing, but now, it’s urgent—it goes on, prolonged with need and desire, that you have to pull her into your lap, cock still lodged inside her, and say: “Use your words, baby.”

She’s a little taken aback, but she’s nodding. Breathing through her mouth in shaky little exhales, Eunbi nods. “Y-yes, please,” she says, as if in a trance. “Mommy. Daddy.”

You and Irene don’t get along too well due to your history of troubles, but you immediately understand each other when you gaze into each other’s eyes. You don’t say a word, but there’s no need for any when her lips are already on Eunbi’s.

It’s a quick change of positions. You bring her over to the desk again. This time, she’s not merely here to watch, but to indulge in the pleasure of having the two of you at the same time. Buttons fly in the air as Irene rips the school blouse apart. She bares the bouncing tits of any bra then immediately goes to worshiping them. Eunbi’s nipple ends up in her mouth and hardens at the suckles. It was as if she were determined to draw out milk from them.

“Look at you,” she says. Irene admires the round, full bosom before her, tracing a hand along the flesh. “Walking around with a body like this shouldn’t be allowed.”

“Mommy,” says Eunbi. She shivers when you fill her up. “Daddy, please. I’m yours.”

“Oh, you are.” Irene plays with the perfect collarbone for a while before edging her hand up to her throat. There, she squeezes tight. “Trust me.”

You squeeze Eunbi’s breasts and kiss them. You don’t think there would ever be a time you wouldn’t appreciate her beautiful tits. Irene seems to have discovered their beauty, too, for the two of you start to worship them. Irene takes left, you go right. Each one provides more than a supple amount of softness that with each bite, squeeze and suck makes Eunbi clamp down on your cock more.

“Baby boy,” Irene whispers. She’s never looked this motherly, yet so seductive. “Remember when I said I wanted you to break her? I still expect you to do it.”

“I’d want nothing more,” you reply.

“Daddy, mommy, w-what are you going to do to me?”

“Bend over, miss Kwon,” instructs Irene, “we’re going to give you what you want.”

Eunbi happily does, and thanks her by slipping her fingers inside her. They immediately set a quick pace to keep her on her toes.

“God, fuck her,” Irene says. “She’s earned it.”

Your girlfriend’s never been so glad to hear something from the principal. The praise earlier is a close competitor, but when these words are the cause of your cock to begin thrusting again, she still prefers these.

“Fuck, daddy!”

You match the pace of her fingers in Irene’s pussy. You choose to go brutally, putting her out of her long misery by filling her over and over again.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, please!” Her eyes are shut, and her body is still except for the movements driven by your thrusts, but her fingers still fuck Irene’s waiting pussy. She’s a true multi-tasker, this girl.

How many times has she begged like this today? You don’t know, but it’s the first time that she’s calling you the name. It surprises even yourself that it turns you on. It drives a forbidden feeling deep in your chest that’s exactly what fuels your thrusts.

She’s finally fulfilled after being kept at the side for practically the whole time, so her screams are also of relief. She squirts so goddamned easily that each thrust is slick and messy. Her folds spare not a second of releasing your cock. No, it holds on, and it’s all too messy. Sinful. Incredibly immoral.

“That’s it, take my cock, Eunbi,” you groan. The words just come naturally to you, because when she’s absolutely writhing underneath you and her pussy is that tight, you become a philosopher with a way with words. You can write several doctrines about how fucking ruinable she is, how her body’s just fit for your cock, how her thin whines are strung out so deliciously that you could never think of stopping.

After everything that’s happened, she’s still your girl. She’s still the one you want to take to bed. She’s just that good.

“Daddy, mommy, fuck—me!” she screams. Eunbi’s tears come flowing back. They pour down her pretty face and onto the desk. If there was paperwork getting done on this desk, they’re replaced by Eunbi.

You think she’s gone crazy. Her voice is strained and her fingers almost painfully shove themselves in Irene, like they’re machine-controlled. All different sounds are extracted from her sore throat: moans, screams, and gasps—you think you’ve broken her.

You guess that’s enough payment for Irene.

Irene’s groans and cries are loud; her legs squeeze around Eunbi’s wrist. “D-don’t fucking stop,” she warns. You sense that there’d be more than what punishment is if the girl dares to halt. Eunbi knows better than to, anyway. She continues fingering Irene, exploring the cave of her tight hole and pressing down on her G-spot.

Eunbi closes her eyes as Irene’s cum sprays her. Now she really looks ruined. She’s already covered in her tears and drool. You guess that soon, she’d be covered in you.

You slip out to flick your cock against her clit.

“Ahhh, daddy!”

“That’s right. Cum for daddy, baby.”

“Y-yes, yes, yes, fuck, daddy! Keep rubbing my clit like that, it feels so good… it feels so warm, please don’t stop!”

“Cum for me.”

“Daddy!” wails Eunbi.

Everything is a mess of moans and squirting. Eunbi screams in pleasure, shaking as her folds remain determined to swallow every inch of your cock even after her orgasm, and Irene’s to your left riding her digits, crying out as if she were in a war. And you guess that yea, maybe it is a war—a war of good and evil, a war of the overachievers (that brings a chuckle out of you), a war of sex.

But in the end, in a feat that no one’s ever seen, everybody wins.

Dear Ms. Jo,

This is regarding your recent concern about Ms. Kwon Eunbi.

I find that the evidence you provided to me is altered and has been tampered with. After further questioning with teachers and staff, I can conclude that your concern is dismissed and shall only subject you to disciplinary action.

It is strictly prohibited to spread harmful falsehood about your fellow schoolmates. Please see me after class tomorrow.

Sincerely,

Principal Bae Irene/Joohyun

#kpop smut #idol x reader #red velvet smut #irene smut #red velvet irene smut #bae joohyun smut #joohyun smut #izone smut #kwon eunbi smut #eunbi smut #izone eunbi smut #male reader #reader insert #pov smut #request #girl group smut #idol x male reader

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119riize · 1 month

Text

HEARTS BETRAYAL - S. EUNSEOK

SYNOPSIS .・゜゜・ you and song eunseok are known for being academic rivals, it was no secret. the whole school knew you guys always fought for the number 1 spot, which also led to the public assuming you both hated each others guts. but, did you guys really hate each other?

PAIRING .・゜゜・ eunseok x fem! reader

GENRE .・゜゜・ school au, fluff

TROPE .・゜゜・ academic rivals to lovers

START - END .・゜゜・ 03.31.24 - ongoing

TAGLIST .・゜゜・ feel free to ask!

03. HE’S NOT THAT BAD

you were stunned after hearing the other and all he did was smile at you like you misunderstood him. “did i say something wrong?” eunseok asks you as you just looked at him shockingly. was he really acting dumb right now? you didn’t even bother bringing it up and just moved on.

“anyways…what do you wanna know about me?” you ask him and watched as he sat in thought for a bit before responding. “what’s your favorite…everything?”

“my favorite color depends on my mood, it changes everyday…im not picky with foods, but i do prefer salty over sweet. my favorite hobby is obviously studying, my parents have high expectations of me so i don’t really have a choice.” you tell him and he listened to you intently.

“your parents?”

you nodded, “yeah, do your parents have any expectations of you?” eunseok shook his head no.

“i study because i want to get into a good college, that’s it.” he says softly, and you could tell on his face something was wrong, but you didn’t wanna question anything too soon.

“really? to be honest, i hate studying. i’ve never really enjoyed it, i only try my best in school so i can make my parents proud. they’ll never notice my existence if i don’t put effort into school.” you saw eunseok whose face was filled with sadness, though it was very subtle.

you tried to keep the atmosphere calm, but it was hard when your academic rival looked off. you brought up the courage to finally ask, “are you okay?”

suddenly, the boy got up from his seat, “mhm, the bells about to ring.” he spoke while grabbing his bag and soon leaving the library. you were left there, confused. once again. however, he wasn’t wrong. the bell in fact did ring a few minutes after he had left.

you sigh and grab your bag before leaving the library. as you walked to class, you couldn’t stop thinking about the look on eunseok’s face. the moment you brought up your parents, the whole atmosphere just changed, let alone he himself looked sick. “i didn’t say anything wrong, right?” you thought to yourself as you walked down the halls.

“hey, y/n!” someone shouted for you through the crowded halls and you turned around to see one of your great friends, yeji, trying to catch up to you.

“oh my gosh, yeji?! how have you been? i haven’t seen you in ages!” you exclaim as you run up to hug her.

“i just came back from my trip last night, what did i miss while i was gone?” she asks you and you looked at her before laughing a bit.

“you missed one of the exams. it was a bad idea to go traveling while its exam season yeji.” you laughed looking at her face, it seemed like she completely forgot the year was ending soon, and wasn’t paying attention to the fact there are exams left and right.

“wait…when’s the finale?!”

“after this next exam. you have this week to study because it’ll be next week and then the finale will be two weeks after.” you couldn’t help but laugh at yeji’s shocked face.

“don’t worry, i’ll help you study if you need.”

yeji let out a sigh of relief, “my house after school, we can’t fool around!”

༉‧₊˚.

as told, you went to yeji’s house after school to help her catch up and study for the upcoming exam.

“these are all the notes that you need to review for the exam, you should copy them down.” you tell yeji and she grabbed out a sheet of paper.

“are these the unit 10 notes?” she asks you and you nodded your head. “how’d you know?”

“they look familiar. but our teacher never informed us to take down notes for this unit, how’d you get them?”

“oh…uh, eunseok gave them—”

“eunseok?! you mean, song eunseok!?” yeji had cut you off right then and there. she got up from her seat immediately after hearing the said name. “he gave the notes to you?!”

“well…yeah, i guess.”

“but aren’t you guys like…rivals? why would he give you his notes?”

you laughed at yeji’s shocked face, “i don’t know, do i look like eunseok to you? go ask him these questions, not me! i’m just trying to help you here.”

“oh, right. i’ll ask him tomorrow! but hey, since we’re talking about him, has your perspective changed ever since he gave you his notes to copy? or do you still think he’s a loser..”

you looked at your friend like she wasn’t being serious, but her face said otherwise. “what kind of question is this? focus on copying down the notes yeji!” you scolded but she wanted an answer from you.

“i just wanna know if you still think he’s a sore loser who only wants to top first to annoy you or if your thoughts changed about him!” yeji said, and you let out a sigh.

“HE’S NOT THAT BAD…”

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taglist. @starwonb1n @kyusqult @teddywook @renjuneoo @lecheugo @seunghancore @sunwoosberrie @b-riize @ilovechanhee @yyangj3lly @07yujin

#hearts betrayal #riize #riize fics #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize fluff #riize x reader #riize eunseok #eunseok x reader #song eunseok #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop fluff #kpop fics #academic rivals #lovers

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pumpkzsafeplace · 10 months

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so sorry to keep venting and being upset about this but im just so scared.

TW - this is just overall pretty rough, vomit mention, mention of blood

ive been so anxious this week that i keep throwing up which has not been helping with how gross i feel cause of that other person and what they did to me. its gotten to the point where i spent over an hour scrubbing my hands over and over and they started bleeding at one point and thats how i realized i had been just standing washing my hands for an hour because of how gross i felt. and on top of that theres this coworker i have who has been treating me so bad but i need this job and i have to pretend i dont mind her constantly saying im dumb and its taking a toll.

i dont know if i can take all of this, i just feel so bad all the time and i now never feel safe. i spent so much time working on getting over that feeling and all the progress is gone after 2 days. i feel like i cant do anything and it just seems like all i do is bother and upset everyone. im just stupid and ruin everything. and now im here probably making a bunch of people uncomfortable and upset because thats all i do, sorry pumpkin, im sorry im always bugging you and being upset. ill try harder to be happy and not bug you.

sorry again, you don't need to respond to this if its too much of a bother or just overall too much. i dont want to upset you, please let me know if you dont want me to talk about this kinda stuff or if you are upset with me. im not trying to be annoying or upsetting and will stop as soon as you ask.

sorry -🧵

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

hihi lil bug’ 🌼

love, i'm seriously getting worried now.

i know that you don't want to lose your six years of work, but if this is the reaction you'll have to experience for a year then it's not worth it. can you not describe what's happening to a teacher? or get your parents/guardian to go in for you and talk on your behalf, maybe they'll listen more to an angry adult- because this is not healthy my love.

maybe consider talking to the doctors too? maybe try and get some help- possibly a therapist? i know it helped me a lot when it came to dicussing and processing horrible and traumatic things that happened to me. they can help push you in heathlier ways of dealing and processing your emotions, instead of resulting to self harm.

with your coworker- can't you talk to your boss? or even take it further than your boss and dicuss it with HR? bullying isn't allowed in workforces- they are really strict with that & things will be done and put in place. the nasty co-worker could even get fired <3.

i know you don't want to burden people, but you need to speak up about what's going on love. i know it's scary but this is really starting to take a toll on you & i'm worried. please talk to someone about what's going on- so they can help you <3.

we are all here supporting you, i promise <3.

big big big big big hugs from me & i hope things can turn around for you soon <3.

-🍰

#askpumpkin #🧵pumpkinasks #sfw age regression #safe agere #sfw agere #agere community #age regression #sfw little blog #sfw little post #sfw little community #agere blog #agere little

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i-spaced-sorry · 11 months

Text

Lookie here! A new fanfic based off 2 headcanons I had this morning! 1. Jay went to summer school as a kid & 2. Jay has a learning disability!

Title: To Help you Succeed

"what took you so long, I thought with it being the last week of school you'd be itching to get out" stated Will when he finally noticed his brother walking down the steps of their middle school.

All Jay responded with was handing Will an envelope.

"What's this?" Asked the 13 year old.

Jay just shrugged, "Ms. Wilson says I have to give it to mom and dad. She didn't tell me what was in the envelope"

The boys began their walk home in silence. After a block of silence, Will spoke, "dad's not going to be happy with whatever is in this"

Looking in his brother's eyes, Jay pleaded, "can't you open it? Maybe knowing what's inside will soften the blow"

Will shook his head, "sorry"

Once home, Jay walked into the kitchen to see his mother happily turning the strawberries they picked the weekend before into jam.

"Ma," said Jay while taking a seat at the table.

"Jay!" She exclaimed while turning around. "How was the last full week of school?" She added while walking to the table after turning the stove to a simmer.

"Good!" Smiled Jay.

Before his mom could ask anything else her oldest walked in, "Jay I forgot to give this back to you" stated Will, while setting it on the table and hugging his mother. "Hi Ma"

"Will, how was the last full week of school?" She asked after her son finished hugging her.

"Good! Mr. Johnson gave me the Freshman year summer reading list! He thinks if I read some of the books on it by September that I'll be ready to take the honors English test and I'll be able to skip Freshman English!" Will beamed. With the joy that filled Will and his mother's eyes, neither of them noticed 11yr old Jay was sulking in his chair. He had been sitting and flipping ideas of what the letter inside the envelope could contain and he now has a good hypothesis.

Will quickly bounded out of the room to go hang out with some of his friends from school and Mary Halstead turned back to her youngest.

"That's for you" Jay glumly stated while pushing the envelope in her direction.

"Well, let's see what it says" she smiled while beginning to tear the envelope open.

Once the letter was released from its compound, Jay could read the beginning words as the light showed through the back.

"Jayson Alexander Halstead! Summer school?!? Really?"

"I'm sorry Ma, I did the work, honest! You can even ask Will, he would check over my homework sometimes. But the tests always were bad. And popcorn reading in class is the worst!" Explained Jay while sitting up in his seat, trying his best to defend himself.

Mary stared at her son for another second and then continued reading down the letter.

When she was done skimming, she looked up and said, "well it looks like your teacher wants you in summer school so they can help you with getting caught up for 6th grade. And while you're there, they want to test you for a learning disability"

"A what" shot up a bewildered Jay!

"I'm not dumb! I don't need special classes"

"Honey, no one thinks you're dumb, they just want to help you succeed. If you do have a learning disability, then they will give you tips to help you and you'll get extra time on tests and depending on the disability you might get to have someone read you the test out loud"

The reason Mary knew all this was she went to school for special education teaching but was only a special Ed teacher for a few years before she got pregnant with Will and decided to be a stay at home mom.

"Okay" replied a defeated Jay.

Present day

"Earth to Jay, yo. Halstead!" Shouted Adam, while waving his hand in his colleagues face.

Snapping back into reality, Jay shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut

"Huh" he asked when he finally opened them again.

"I asked, did you ever get summer school as a kid? Mac has Kim all freaked out because they want her to go, something about prepping her to succeed"

Sighing, Jay replied, "Yea, I went in the summer of 6th grade. Honestly it was the best thing my school could have done for me. Don't look at it bad man, like you said they want to prep her to succeed. And succeed she will"

#jay halstead imagine #jay Halstead fic #adam ruzek #jay halstead #chicago pd fic #chicago pd imagine #will halstead imagine #halstead brothers

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delphoxqueen · 2 years

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Frankie Stein’s Diary- Wave 2 (2011)

{Scroll to the bottom for the actual diary page images!}

This Diary Belongs to: Frankie Stein

I still get a charge out of documenting my life!

Name: Frankie Stein

School: Monster High

The 15th day of September

Watzit got into big trouble today while I was at school. Somehow he got into dad’s lab and snuck out with a part from one of dad’s projects. Good thing mom was looking out the window and saw Watzit trying to bury it. Dad was still pretty amped up by the time I got home. “That animal is too smart for its own good- I’ve got a good mind to replace its brain with a sheep’s or one from a soft sciences professor.” I think Watzit just misses me when I’m at school so I’m going to start getting up extra early to take him for a longer walk before I leave. Hopefully that will help- otherwise I’m going to have to kennel him during the day :(

The 24th day of September

I used to think that being the “new girl” was the hardest thing about going to school but now I’m thinking that being the “not so new girl” is kinda hard too. When I was the new girl and I did something dumb everybody just said, “You’re new- don’t be so hard on yourself- you’ll get the hang of it.” My friends have also done a lot of things for me, which is good and bad. Good because it kept me from embarrassing myself, and bad because there are some things I didn’t learn to do on my own and now everybody expects me to know those things and when I mess something up I should know it’s like really, really, really embarrassing. Like I never really paid much attention to where my classrooms were when I started at MH- total brain short on my part I know- but it was just easier to follow Draculaura or Clawdeen and because they always insisted on showing me around I didn’t really learn the layout of the school. So yesterday we were on our way to class when I totally got caught up in a zombie flash mob and when I finally got away I was in a part of the school I didn’t recognize and totally lost. I thought if I peeked into one of the classrooms that maybe a teacher could help me. I saw this big iron door and was about to open it when somebody behind me said, “That wouldn’t be a good idea.” I nearly jumped out of my stitches. It was Spectra Vondergeist. She said, “Oh, it looks like I frightened you… good.” Then she pointed to a sign above the door that read, Basement Levels, “Now unless you have a ball of twine or a Minotaur in your pocket you probably don’t want to go down there- follow me.” I followed her down the hallways listening to her stories about MH. They were all interesting but they kind of all were starring her. She did get me back to class though which was really nice of her.

Of course I was really late and the teacher wanted to know where I had been- I said I got lost, the whole class laughed and I got detention because the teacher thought I was giving her attitude. After class Ghoulia showed me how to GPS all my classes with my iCoffin so it wouldn’t happen again- oh well, just another lesson for the “not so new girl anymore.”

The 25th day of September

I went to breakfast with my dad this morning, which was scary fun although I didn’t think it was going to be at first. See, he goes to the same die-net every Saturday morning and has breakfast with the same group of monsters and mad scientists. Mom said he’s been doing it for years. I asked her if she ever went and she just laughed. “I don’t take your father with me to shop for shoes and he doesn’t take me when he gets together with his friends to solve all of the world’s problems.” “Why not?” I asked. Mom gave me a hug and said, “Because my love, there are times when practical advice can just take all of the fun out of life.” Then from behind us I hear dad say, “Unless it comes from your parents and then it is to be heeded at all costs.” Then Dad rushed us out the door because he wanted to make sure we got there before the banana scary pancakes ran out. I said, “I’m not a little girl dad, I can eat grown up food you know.” “Of course you can my dear, but who said I was thinking about you?” Dad’s friends turned out to be really nice and pretty funny for a bunch of monster geeks especially when they started telling stories about dad ; ). I could see that they all really liked him though and since my dad had a very self-decapitating sense of humor it made the time totally fun. I don’t think I’d want to get up early every Saturday morning but I’m glad I got to see that my dad can be a regular monster too. Hey, who knew? Oh, and the banana scary pancakes? Definitely worth getting there early for.

The 1st day of October

My stitches are still coming loose at exactly the wrong time. Dad ordered some special monstertanium thread that he said was stronger than dragon’s breath and would totally fix the problem. Yeah- not so much. I was standing on a ladder in the gym helping Draculaura hang up a banner for this week’s pep rally when Clawd and some of the football team walked through wearing their game day jerseys. One of the guys on the team is a gargoyle from Scotland who had the dreamiest accent and the most scary handsome crystal grey eyes. I just said hi to everybody by name but when I got to him I totally blanked. I just stood there absolutely motalfied and finally called him by his jersey number… “7”… lame I know… but then the rest of the guys started teasing him and I got so anxious that my arm fell and then the rest of me fell too. I don’t know how he did it but somehow “7” caught both my arm and me. All the guys started clapping and Clawd said, “How come you don’t catch like that at practice?” “7” was talking to Clawd but looking at me when he said, “If the passes Ye threw were as pretty as this lass, I’d nay drop another.” At least that’s what Draculaura said he said. I don’t remember anything after I fell off the ladder except strong arms and crystal grey eyes.

The 7th day of October

Fear Squad practice was terrible today. Cleo was totally impossible to please and we started and stopped several times before she finally just cancelled practice altogether. Then at lunch Purrrsephone, Meowlody and Toralei were all saying that it was because of the blowup that Clawd had with Spectra and the rumor was that Cleo was going to break up with Deuce, Deuce was going to start dating Operetta and Clawd was definitely back in the picture with Cleo. I was really bummed cause they’re all my friends and I didn’t want to have to take sides. I saw Lagoona later and asked her what she thought about the rumors. She asked me who was spreading them and when I told her she just laughed and said, “Not every seagull that yabbers he’s found a fish.” Coming from Lagoona that somehow made me feel better, confused but better.

The 12th day of October

Monster Heritage Essay by Frankie Stein

That’s all I’ve written so far but I’m really excited about the assignment cause I’m going to get to learn so much scary cool stuff about my classmates. I thought that for part of my heritage research I would read that book that was written about my parents but I couldn’t find a copy of it in the house. I asked mom why and she said the author had taken, “certain liberties with the truth” but if I wanted to check out a copy from the library she would be happy to answer any questions I had. When I asked dad about the book, he used an expression I’d never heard before but I guess mom had because she made that noise in the back of her throat that means some monster is in trouble. Dad hung his head and looked kind of creepish for a bit until mom stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. I don’t need a book to find out about my monster heritage. I get to see it every day- how scary cool is that?

The 16th day of October

I had the strangest dream last night. I dreamed we were planning to have the scary best dance ever until an evil teacher cancelled it and we had to have the dance in a secret location under the school. Everything was going as planned when this strange monster in a shiny suit with lots of hair appeared and started yelling that this was his dream and we were going to start over. I totally jumped into another dream but the only thing I remember from that one was the feeling of being a stranger. It must have been stress-ful though cause when I woke up I was upside down and one of my arms had fallen off. No more ghost chili pizza for me before bed.

The 24th day of October

I met a new ghoul today! At least new to me : ) Her name is Abbey Bominable and I think she’s really sweet even if she does take a bit to warm up to. Anyway we were waiting in line together at the creepateria and she was asking the lurch ladies to explain what was in the food. The line started to back up and some monsters were yelling at her to hurry up. I think she was starting to get frustrated so I told her to go with the screechza since it was pretty easy to recognize most of the stuff they put on it. She gave me a look so serious that I thought I had said something I shouldn’t have but then she smiled and thanked me. We sat together and I learned that she lives in the mountains above the school, loves to snowboard and that her first language is Yetish. She said she could under-stand what was being said most of the time but that the slang kept tripping her up because it was hard not to take everything literally. I told her that sometimes I still did the same thing. Then I told her that I would help her with slang if she would teach me how to snowboard. She thought for a moment and then said, “I think that would be the cool that is scary.” Hehe I bet she learns slang faster than I learn to snowboard :).

About Me

Name: Frankie Stein

Age: How many days has it been now?

Monster Parent: Frankenstein and his bride.

Killer Style: My friends say I have the perfect figure for fashion. I’m not really sure what that means yet, but they’ve taken me shopping for scary cute clothes that are absolutely to die for.

Freaky Flaw: Sometimes my stitches come loose at the worst possible moments. Yes, it’s still happening.

Pet: Watzit I’m not sure of all the things he’s made from but Watzit’s pet license is 10 pages long.

Favorite Activity: Anything I get to with my friends

Biggest Pet Peeve: Every morning when I come upstairs my father insists on grinning and shouting, “It’s Alive!” He still thinks it’s funny.

Favorite School Subject: History. It’s great because it helps me to understand where my friends are coming from.

Least Favorite School Subject: Swimming. I tend to short out and say silly things when I’m wet.

Favorite Color: Black and white stripes.

Favorite Food: HOw can I choose when there are still so many things to try?

BFF’s: Draculaura & Clawdeen Wolf

#monster high #monsterhigh #monster high dolls #mhdiaries #frankie stein #monster high frankie #abbey bominable #monster high abbey #lagoona blue #monster high lagoona

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soundwave1982-blog · 1 year

Text

Real Amazing Spider-Man #3

Stark villa

A green portal opens, and a five-year-old Valeria Richards exits the portal dragging two suitcases to find Peter Parker and Mary Jane Parker cuddled together, watching a Netflix original film while Annie continues playing her Nintendo Switch.

“Special delivery for My Best Science-buddy friend forever and her excellent mom, your luggage direct from Germany,” said Valeria

“Thanks, Val,” said Annie as she ran over to Valeria, hugged her, collected her suitcase, and headed to her temporary bedroom.

“Thanks, Val. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble,” asked Mary Jane Parker,

“Not at all, Mrs Parker; it’s a pleasure for all the time you babysat me and my dumb brother Franklin and lets us double mint chocolate chip ice cream,” said Mary Jane collecting her suitcase

“So where is my suitcase,” asked Peter

“Sorry, I only have two arms, Mister Parker. But, I have to keep my BSFF happy so we can get another A+ on our science projects, and MJ always lets me have an extra helping of double mints ice cream and is wicked when it comes to Pictionary game night,” said Valeria.

“No, seriously, where is my bag,” asked Peter as MJ took her suitcase to their temporary bedroom

“I’ll go and get it for you, but the teleport device needs six to eight hours to recharge before I can sneak into the unclaimed baggage area,” said Valeria.

“six to eight hours you just wanted to hang out with your friend in Hawaii,” asked Peter

“I have left a message for Uncle Johnny to tell him where I am; Mum said I could stay over at a friend’s house if I wanted as long as I told a responsible adult, seeing they left Uncle Johnny in charge, which I did I left him a note,” said Valeria.

“I think your mum meant to stay in New York with us, not while we are house-sitting in Hawaii,” said Peter.

“Technically, I am sure you could call Mum and Dad to come and get me, mister Parker, but they are doing something in the Negative Zone, so where is your phone,” asked Valeria.

“You knew my cellphone was in my bag, didn’t you? So you left it on purpose so you could work on a science project with Annie,” asked Peter

“That’s the problem, mister Parker you can’t prove its word against mine; if you let me stay, I will upgrade your web shooters free of charge,” said Valeria

“You are an evil mastermind who taught blackmail,” said Peter laughing

Annie then comes out of her bedroom carrying her teddy bear, Wolverine.

“I thought I was never going mister whiskers again; I owe you one, Val,” said Annie.

“Happy to help, my BSFF. Are you ready to work on our science project? I’m sure some tech we can borrow from Tony’s workshop,” asked Valeria.

“Of course, I was already planning to sneak into Tony Stark workshop,” said Annie

“What? You already cracked his workshop password; not fair. I’m the code breaker in this team,” said Valeria,

“Please, there’s no real challenge in hacking into Stark system; a one-year-old could do it,” said Annie

“So it’s IamIronman39 isn’t it,” said Valeria.

“No, it’s IamIronman08 this time. I tried a few other passcodes to access the workshop. I need some to upgrade my switch battery life from three to six with some junk from the workshop,” said Annie.

“We really need to talk about hacking into other people’s systems,” said Peter.

“Says the guy who went into the lab before me to borrow parts to create some web-shooters,” said Annie

I thought you had organic web shooters, Mister Parker,” asked Valeria.

“I do these web-shooters to help focus my shots and to use impact webbing and some kinky stuff you do not need to know till you are in high school,” said Peter

“Oh, he’s talking about Sex; I already had read six biology books before I was four, Uncle Peter. I know about the birds and bees and all the LGBT stuff that they are only two genders, XX and XY, no matter how deluded the biology teacher is with her saying they are 32 different genders crap,” said Valeria.

“Yeah, I gathered that, Val. I think dad trying to avoid have tell me where babies come from; he’s trying to convince me the stork brought me,” said Annie

“Don’t you have a science project to work on,” asked Peter.

Annie and Valeria walk off towards Tony’s workshop. After they entered the workshop, they started work on their science project.

“So what are we doing for our science this time? Because I don’t know how we top the teleportation device we created last year,” asked Annie.

“I know those ungrateful science fair judges gave us a damn C I still can’t believe we lost to a baking soda volcano,” said Valeria

“We are competing with other four-year-olds, but that was completely ridiculous. Mind you, we created a working teleporter out of a couple of radio and retro games consoles at four-year-old without adult help,” said Annie.

“Let’s just build a Lemon power clock or go with the classic Baking soda volcano, but we both know those are below our intelligence and a waste of time and effort. I got a wicked idea; not sure you would be a willing test subject,” said Valeria

“Tell me your idea, first science buddy,” asked Annie

“What about creating a device that allows a wearer to mimic the superpower of anyone who wears a similar pairing device,” replied Valeria

“You just want to try web swing for yourself, don’t you,” asked Annie.

“What’s so wrong about a swing through the city without a care in the world,” said Valeria

“Trust Val, it’s not all fun trying to wash your secret costume without mum or dad, who both have similar powers to finding out your powers are already activated and that you are sneaking out to fight criminals with a super genius tech support girl in the chair,” said Annie.

“Yeah, I know the feeling, Annie. When Mom, Dad, Uncle Johnny and Uncle Ben go on great adventures together and leave Dufus and me behind with Aunt Alice to babysit us. I’m sure she’s not blind. Sometimes she always catches trying to sneak out,” said Valeria

“She must be a mutant with heightened senses,” said Annie.

“It’s not that; she’s just super wise to all tricks; so shall do that create a power friendship synch bracelets,” asked Valeria

“Okay, let’s do that, partner,” said Annie.

"right behind you BSFF," said Valeria

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renatedagmarmilada · 1 year

Text

HOW IT IS DONE..

a phone call this Sunday morning from a Mrs Kahn Pakistani ofcourse whose eight year old daughter I teach

I don't want you to come for nothing then over the sound We have been torturing you..and... ..that is an Alice sound..

(Alice, have more Phrases from her Alice uses all my writing in stories the lab sorts for her they said she was an uninspired twat so the lab raised her for using my work for them)

since returning from Leipzig Fasching the punishment has been savage the lab Pakis inflicting it can barely write and have no medical training outside of their own penis

they were health toilet cleaners and health workers before and you will know ofcourse that the Health service is collapsing encouraged- use her beyond anything that has been done before with this technology totally and absolutely outlawed in the States

and everywhere else in the world, come to England to use- if you complain some quack writes: too sensitive and a jewish quack at that, yes, we had saved them back then we should say about their past, too sensitive as they do about us..

at the bus stop yesterday and yes, I even lived in Pakistan teaching there and actually had a lot of laughs there unfortunately our family always believed that all peoples are decent and try to do our best

'the lab Pakistanis will be punished..no, they work for me' (that would be Anna of the lab St Barths Behavioural Science, some science, KGB) they ask regularly: how many atrocities now? Brownie point each

over the tv Gamal lab Pakistani, smirking I will take from your bank account again I have a lot of debits, each Pakistani rolls off what he wants this has gone on for two decades endlessly

do you know what is funny the Pakistanis all tell me how corrupt Pakistan is I am not often speechless but that is enough to dumb you but now these lab lot are beginning to say, we never thought here...

this is government Health Ministry business killing off skilled people I have found over the years since the lab took them on the lab Pakistanis love those two things the most robbery for their own gain from my account as a hard working teacher

and savage use of the remote technology and I mean savage.. (they all use different intensities) to cause real pain, I think because I am a teacher infact because I teach their kids..they said over tv we'll retard you oddly, I don't sex, smoke or drink as per their laws

yesterday at the bus stop, one ran by shouting loudly, we have put such crap on the file now the Somalis can sort it out for the Blacks I teach many Somalis and find them a jolly bunch (they take turns to torture, rob and destroy us)

oddly...I go into Pakistani homes and help their children really doing my best for decades now advicing their women about health, give references, write letters so don't imagine you are their friend for one moment as did I

they will stab you in the back for twopence as they do to their own people here for MI5 and others and just as they did in India to neighbours for the British Army which I had also thought was nonsense before

we'll put on the report before we pass her over: (no wonder the way they bashed and still bash my skull...) we have found her to have brain damage and that savagery doesn't hurt the water heads

I am not a water head I am sixty two year old lady teacher painter, and rather small for a European with a gentle disposition and rather skilled, I am afraid

England is on a killing spree, killing its best at the moment and has found the perfect answer for this from its brutes its Pakistanis.....doing the dirty work yet again just as they did in India for the British Army

and we thought they were only paying them the massive child allowances to the Pakistanis for cannon fodder for its boys in future wars as India had stated never to fight for the Brits again

Here, our city has a small farm for city school children to visit to show the city kids a little of country farm animals a group of Pakistani young men slaughtered and mutilated the pigs at that little school farm in a horrid way - I have my doubts of their loyalty...

most top Brits think England will go under this total corruption will sink the country even top, top brits have told me this The rabble rules Engand at the moment....

and they tell me this sort of thing happens to top people all the while! I am not a top person I am a painter-teacher who writes stuff, which all gets copied by the lab rats and cheats.....

THE VIENESSE

let the viennese lab have her now give her a pounding for our lies give them the file of lies we made up send them the mucky film we created which they think she modelled for and guess what, she got caught in bed in her own house with her own husband

Lauren the lab operative from Redbridge wife of the sadistic axe man daughter of Fay who copies my paintings congregant of the Liberal Synagogue south London who wrote up my refugee stories as jewish stories to Woman's World can 'be the Austrian' and create the Vienesse virtual reality world

called illegal intervention into private citizens lives, which is either costly for the Ministry or if the citizens are unaware as has been the case in Engand costly for the citizens especially costly for this little family we spend millions and all our and their lives destroying

order every thing must be robbed constantly everything must be changed constantly they even stopped my menstruation and metabolic rate (lab Pakistanis - hate white women especially when they are 'poor' and better behaved than their own and when the white woman knows all their shananigans)

I'll do the torture effects from over here they paid with Haider It goes like this they get them in there have been several like that We all cheered when they put Livingstone in (we don't care if he drinks he got in, that is all that matters) then they find all their faults to disgrace them

Early on the lab did it to a very famous jewish german politician too they thought I was part jewish previously as my name is both jewish and hungarian tell you the history of that sometime later and so indeed did I and my mother too (fifty percent of grandfather's home was jewish) which is the lie these quacks claim I told though I did tell the Rabbi Rothchild not a word of that but told him that my father was a german soldier and he accepted that with absolute calm nor that my father had deserted the Army sat there under the Nazi noses at his father in laws oh and my problems with accepting this jewish Jesus god person..sorted now.

The list is quite endless now of political lab interventions and manipulations but I am a painter/teacher not a politician and care not a jot for lies and politics

but it is the fox and hounds so beloved a game by the british so the list is enormous of 'people we don't like' getting into power to be watched and chopped permanently never to rise again, is the point of it all. In Austria the mother of my life long friend Christian, ofcourse contracted their cancer when the lab played there last upon a visit of mine

The cancer list is also quite endless now too and and I lost my lifelong friend now a Maths Tutor at Wolf Passing that is another thing they do all life friendships terminated remote which have endured camps and you name it are destroyed by the lab

they ''link'' people not one link THEY created has lasted above a week or two it began that they separated my husband of twenty five years in our very happy family which is what they always do and did to the dear Princess too and then they 'link' then they played all sorts of tricks with various men to make me think they were interested in me

Like, they destroyed my nursing job ninety seven percent no less as I was obviously going to be good in it then played that trick with the Head of Health there Soon, I learnt the Nazis and Communists used that one too so have remained steadily celibate since then

It is a sad an lonely life but I try to make it interesting its ok the lab says they even lie about yes, she permits us and you to destroy them (siganture on a nursing job form) and use a doctor's name which was not the doctor who had contacted them because I had stress headaches for them to destory us (he was a very dirty minded G.P)

She/me had such a lousy life before as a refugee and all that and they are so vulnerable D.Ps and all that no one will notice and do you know what they don't.. except the nuns have realised that the refugee always laughed and smiled and now she is sad and downcast

anyway, Vienna can now read the file of lies why Vienna, you will ask yourself why not Germany where she came as a child why not Slovakia where she was born in the Capital why not Hungary which is her ethnicity they are all in it fear not these people are paid a grand a week to wreck totally the British KGB no less for the highest to the lowest..

My grandma was the daughter of farmers from the Wachau in Austrai, the farmer Thuringer who died and the widow married the farm manager Radak... so now they will inensify the already bad torture so the lies fit the victim for the Viennese which is what it is all partially about

they lied to america for the money and they lied to america for the technology now they have to try to twist us so the lies agree with the persons as they have dragged the american technology around the world and given it away with cash to cover themselves from their crimes.. though they wipe us out constantly little bubbles peep through It is no longer the jewish Ministers compensation which he doesn't want to pay that we didn't know they owed us anyway it is absolute gross negligence, manslaughter gross misconduct and much more and the more are in this murderous slaughter the more innocent they can seem....

I thank God for world of poets my only voice in all the world as they wipe out and change all folders and pages on my computer which one of their whizz kids attached to the lab computer they say (prove it said Selwyn the Tory) so they control all on my computer too and even wipe out Drafts or have them never reach the page...

It will sweep the land said Lee (which Lee, General Lee) but the deaths someone protested kill of the weak, no problem Hitler said that too you know.

MACHINE OPERATORS VIZ BRAINS

then next stage along the path for humanity appears to be obvious

the machine operators will destroy and rob the clever and talented

many stages have happened this one has been predicted time and again

and now the lab takeover is here secretly, savagely, spitefully tightly controlled by the semi-literates

as these sort of things always are those cleverer than I by far have already said it

it is finally the descend of the human race with this new development

while they have total power we have no chances they think a few thefts

will bring them to our level whilst three-quarters of the world cannot get beyond their personal physical functions

YOURS – OURS

the lab sit and listen all day and all night

the lab St Barths do that thing with satelite which goes onto their screen all day and all night

the lab St Barths Human Research then take off the C.D. and off the screen anything and everything they want from our days and nights

and use everything we have said, done or thought everything we have written, painted whilst administering constant torture which they call tests and experiments just like the same system did at Auschwitz to train all the system's staff and their nasty sadists cause really painful torture

the staff then having taken everything and anything off the screen and off the C.D take what they feel like out of our bank accounts out of our home out of sites to use as our own exchange our tiny bills for english peoples large ones giving them our tiny ones

the lab gives the first names of all their thieves most of the time some now actually call themselves writers and designers (of my work) Even famous folk robbed and rob- there is no mention of crimes though the government knows well it's ok they had terrible lives she's used to it (if only I were jewish I could sue!) the government goes to the lab to be put onto the machine after an internal disaster they are promised artificial success directed by the machine and all the lab staff knows all about them to know

this is the democracy we came to with such high hopes and admiration.... excuse me while I laugh or I would die crying..... if I don't die from the continued remote shocks and presses on my ribs and organs.. die laughing at such a joke democracy?

as the chinese said call it a therapy call it a test and suddenly it is no longer torture though they press my chest and ribs constantly to simulate hard labour and bad life style suddenly it is no longer theft against the innocents

every so often I have to remove myself to China or Russia where being left in peace restores me to health of sorts we - the refugees from communism whose father was sued for libel three times by the Moscow Embassy had got away from communism not knowing that murder and theft is absolutely legal here and known as long as it is done under cover with certificates and lies don't even bother to ask why the crime rates are so high in the west I know the answers now though they are hard to believe

(they called it slaughter of the lambs) British cunning British democracy

but I am a nearly Pom brought up over here speak as they do sound as they do look as they do but without the evil cunning of them they said in New Zealand and I bring scores of adoring students to this rotting little island with my glorious teachings about it in my very successful classrooms...

talk about pain..........

ETON TOO..

The great phase out so that you have every problem to deal with in which you are supposed to lose everything besides the manslaughters, assaults and crimes we commit

even the Russian Rula and Ukrainian from the Daily Mail whose dad and mum where introduced by my mum and dad we took your experiences and made them ours to cover the jewish junior Health Minister for the lab

(he wrote my family life as his own) odd how corrupt people will be for guaranteed success and guys I forgot to tell you all Eton picked up the illegal beaming too

I am not sure if only the first real lot of secret beaming or whether they also picked up the dud beaming made by the second rate porn model Lindsey I imagine the first one along with Buckingham Palace

so instead of punishing the lab which had already been done for gross misconduct in the past they allowed the lab to make so much misery that the end of the war was a good time in comparison

and oh Anna bossess one of your girls says stop messing around with boys then you won't have to pay their silence with the work of helpless teachers like our poetess

Christopher, former Oxford Grad is now on book three and four ALL of it MY work now, not just bits as were book one and two

guaranteed sales ofcourse by the lab and Lucinda thinks she's wonderful money and exhibitions from my work oh there is no point in listing them all

what ever did we do this country to deserve worse treatment than Hitler gave jews we worked very hard, harder than you can imagine and lived in poverty to rebuild them

that's what we did in this country which poached our services from Ausie where we were due to go but anyway, Eton was in it too................

ILLEGAL LEGALLY

and today so sayeth the lead of the Isle returned back to England they are reality games which cripple and kill

Onwards with the television all her memories will go onto the box total processing is not permitted nothing anywhere of hers will remain untouched by us

you were given the Royal secrets and the secrets of other top people in exchange they were for you to publicise but we know you won't do that

who refuses to press her organs get rid of them and now never mind 'enough of this' it is not the students but illiterate Pakistanis

their achievement, totally healthy we have aged her rapidly (said Europe: anyone can do that it is normal with torture!)

keep pressing that spine of hers though she never had backache except when in labour forty years ago they seek out older women to cripple

don't stop until she is crippled we need her in our care she refuses to see a doctor we tune too we'll try out on her then

and the pain she suffers who cares just tell everyone they are all volunteers, their whole family!

INTERNATIONAL WORLD NET

so for yesterday´s poetic efforts I got a real pasting all night

it depends on who is in the lab how bad the pasting is

the girls say that the lab Pakistanis are scared and are reacting against me to keep their new wealth from the lab

They use these people for all extreme things we thought they were at least international killers

not writers, poets, painters, violinists, and interpreters that was Erfurt now it is the turn of Berlin, God help us

it will create a world crisis no, because the whole world is in it, nearly

it might just be a crisis for England however they wouldn´t pay compensation

it was a showcase for the world now you can mend these poor people from the phase out

also negative as we gave England as practice ground though the yanks regret the group they gave it to

It is impossible to heal that it is only possible to beat them to death now

destroying the good raising the evil to even higher

we used a bit of it too here in Germany but nothing like as brutally as they have in England

Why doesn´t the Prince come over because we hoodwinked him, he didn´t really know what it was

you should read what they wrote about you the Pakistanis are over inventive and the quacks

that is why we called it ´the slaughter´from the start why did the English want to commit suicide

they were promised full protection by a certain Military what do we need this rubbish for

your lab pakistanis are now your KGB we don´t need that again

but it is too late some are verbally violent to her poetry

but others know the truth when they read it as was always the case

and they have lived through this so often in Europe they know how it goes

as the lab said the government should stop us we only do what people let us do so what they deserve.

HIT THAT VEIN

Isolate simulate separate

son number three very lively from tiny played his fiddle in all the county

they procure their choice wives for all those on their wicked programme believe me, it is true for their psychi play

as indeed they also separate as well the dear Princess found too late and we too and famous newspaper owners and others

but the wives they procure are not suitable it is for the lab to ´play´behavioural games

I realised after a while what they were at but said nothing man we had all that crap in old Europe

with stupid sex camps and all that exactly what these criminals are doing so Prime Ministers wives lost pregnancies

lost their babies for tests and the rest it is not my place to say and it is not the first time this has been played through

daughter being a College Principal is beyond them in a way son number one works for the Americans so fairly safe only the younger sons were at home for their 'sibling tests'

(remember their system tests by destruction the system which ran the experimental camps of Hitler and the Gulags too from which my dad escaped)

so son number three was got a their choice wife heavily into heroine as you will guess to see what would be with this musical altar server

finally clear of both we began anew after many years under my eye but I had forgotten the new advances

so the lab Pakis, son number three being white each put on the programme hit that vein, hit that vein, one and all

and put on the sound: he´s dead anyway which is their usual excuse for us all

since the lab decided that our family beng Displaced Persons from the East were vulnerable enough not to be able to fight back

now his leg is wider than his torso all because the lab had been asked by a dirty Quack check this person out and had not asked

they´d sent pictures beaming over the pond of my torso for all to see which looped all over the place and set of Santa Monica

for which in the end they got to write the death programme on the dear Princess she too was on the helpless end of all these things

and like me realised all of it too late I can tell you what their advances can do but I can´t tell you how the machine works using displaced energy

but the lousiest, lowest muslim toilet cleaners asian health workers can as it is given to them as a toy and I know the russians have it nearly all worked out

so folks watch out today they destroyed us tomorrow who knows it might be you

they can just as easily write on your false file you were S. S. and all those other things they write and don´t imagine they don´t know at the top

tell your friends and all whom you know that is the only weapon we have left from the dumbest to the top are on the computer now!

before they programmed ´'hit that vein´ we all did that they say we are all first degree murderers as three passed by the bus stop he was doing very well though he had been used as a child by the lab... for myself, I hide in the comfort of the lessons I give time tables and mathematical rules are still the same

grammar and spelling rules don´t change and perusing the Roman Empire provides welcome relief from trying to not watch them hit that vein!

and I often wonder in the dark of sleepless nights if Israeli Abraham or Rabbi Rothchild of Leeds Reform Synagague would recognise this suffering young man

the same as that tall, blonde jocular person he gave a lift to when he was in his very healthy teens they would blanch if they saw the slow murder involved..

GAMAL AND DEVA

It is easy being gifted: so says Allisia Devah-married girlfriend of a lab Pakistani I have just copied all these drawings and it is very easy copying!

The drawings given her by Gamal Gamal works at St Barths Human Research They torturing the people of England by remote and help the Pakistanis of England by remote

Each one of these thieves and murderers is given my account numbers and details so they sit and spin out my hard earned wages Gamal took six hundred pounds for himself

actually only the Indian subcontinent people robbed our bank accounts- though my grandson is part Indian of my mother of ninety one mine too then robbed our house wholesale

the english wanted to see what they do I have no idea how often Gamal used torture remote it used to be just nights with quacks to confuse me Gamal did take a quarter of my written work to reuse as his

for this act he had to introduce someone else they all have to continue crimes with crimes so he gave young Allisia Devah my drawings (guaranteed) that would cover the other thieves too you see

Now NATO said they had to tell me so at four am on sound throwers I was told all this as the quacks have used this method since nineteen eighty four

they despise me for my good memory they hoped it would all pass by like a nightmare in the night all would be forgotten with no blame passed

for a long time I was silent I couldn´t believe this was happening for a long time I sat listening day and night watching as they slowly destroyed our lives around us

uncertain what or that it could be this was just like what we had known before incidentally it is not, secret, silent and spiteful it is much, much worse

the other Pakistani lab members each spun one thousand for themselves from the sale of my house as we know we have to leave

so St Barths continues its endless crimes torturing me and hoping for my early death and killing and destroying on its path and ANNA lab bossess is now a mass murderess (not my words by the way) but it is true, sort of virtual reality death games as our Government sits and watches

incase some one realises who we really are we had saved jews from the same and it is they who are running this.

UNO AND NATO PERMITTED

It was all permitted by NATO now they say UNO says you may use the International World Net without telling anyone some clerk signed there which was not as stated as we sighed

St Barths Human Research was given permission to de-stabilize the State and kill a princess or two

and as they kill one young white guy all Brits, after another no fears only artists and such

they call it suicide accidents and illnesses the lab are experts at that covering suicides, illnesses and accidents

the chosen lab pakistanis making all the pakistanis they play with rich (that is the real american way for those used

not what they do to us for being used) and helping them on in this Isle before your all start yelling, I am not racist or that I lived and taught in Pakistan too

these trials however are not to be opened or discovered till all the mighty, ministers and the rest in this game are dead and gone next generation forgotten make horrific so no one wants to, so will not believe it anyway

NATO gave the permission did it... destroy all these whites with core experiments use mental nurses for this sophisticated machine practice all that is STRICTLY FORBIDDEN (all put away into folders over the pond)

this to cover the labs negligence in the first place decades ago and their manslaughters with continued internal crimes no one bothered to check at the Health Ministry

as Anna the bossess was lover to them Many have died all I know of whites many Pakistanis have come high and within the media many of the labs friends raised to the Arts

As I don´t drink or smoke the lab continues to try to destroy my health how long will she talk they wonder carefully picking what I tell now

Germany is in this attrocity too having spent one year at University here everywhere where I went paid to join in the international slaughter

taking a week out here in east Germany they meekly add in unbelieving tones: it was just the same here before unity so nothing has changed only the names

all to save three corrupt doctors of a corrupt lab with corrupt staff a lab so rotten it would take a lifetime to list its sins and now added to

long long ago we called another fiend a devil the whole world lauded him gave in to his demands and shook his hand now shudder at what they did trying to deny

the secrets are just the same have those past experiences turned everyone deaf and blind open prisons are not such a new concept..

C.I.A.

american students copied the lab said it is the american way of destroying the lab said we had orders from america the lab said

she wrote to the C.I.A. for help they took her letters to the C.I.A. then the lab sent their own report to the C.I.A.

now the C.I.A. have a special report out on her and they are not reports one wants to get on

even though the report sent from St Barths has no truth as such in it they are believed and is no more than spin, spin, spin.

ROGUE LAB ROGUE PRACTITIONER

a long, long time ago in a beautiful village in gorgeous Bavaria St Nicholas told a little girl she would have to go a long way away

the little girl had been hiding under the table in the far wall, in fear St Nicholas told the little girl, but always stay as good as you are

it did nothing to make the fear go away. Her pals, the boys of the children's home, told her as they ran

to school: when you get to England, the people there are seven foot tall and wear red coats and ride big horses

they will chase you into a corner with their big horses and you will have to run and run and run!

I was small then and didn't believe them and came to meet my mother on this rainy isle, and a new father

'Why do you press her lungs and rib cage daily and hammer her Blood pressure Dulcie?

I wanted her to have collapsed lungs and die so each member of the family dies bit by bit from tests

and Lucy thought that hammering blood pressure what we did to kill Tony Banks, is a treatment

we tortured her dad extensively so we had to simulate some scarey illness

we discuss how we are going to torture with the quacks like, take it to the level where she will scream with pain

and did her dad die of cancer no, like Montezuma we ripped out his heart

and gave him a german machine heart because at the end of the war

the germans threatened them all death or put on our uniform so all of them did and walked to Italy for the last battle

where they were taken prisoner He regained his health so we continued torture tests

so, we put a slit into his his wind pipe They just go in and out of hospital with no causes found

we also took his heart out we let his daughter hear his strong heart beat before

and the weaker one with the machine afterwards when she visited her sons up north

we put them over the television black out Then we put expire on to the machine

so his life just gave out.. we had the doctors argue whether it was cancer or not

just to cover our backs here at St Barths and the death cert was stolen from daugher's house

We have put a death programme over for her trip tomorrow to her old uni in Germany

she's messed it up again we thought she would fly, she's booked bus!

we'll get her if she flies to the States or something We've hit son hard again

he is barely alive and suffering terribly his crime, violin genius as child and we used them as kids

along with the students who lived there all the classes of student she taught and all around her

it is called 'surrounding' them since 'eighty four the crimes are accidents which have happened repeated.

We were promised decent treatment when we came to work here in England after the war

rebuilding their country for them with our hard work. -and so it has been, they chase us, chase us and chase us!

and often at night as I wake from the daily batterings I think of that day, as we ran over the meadows

over to the village and the boys laughed and teased me you will have to run and run and run!

The dear nuns just sighed and hoped God would protect me. and oddly, the lab doctor Jack once put over the tv sound:

'it is just fox and hounds, that is all.' -Every rubbish is coming over here so let them have it..

we were enemy aliens, we were poached to come here we were given no benefits and told to work in heavy industry

British agents toured the refugees of Europe going to Ausie We did not ask to come here, we were asked if we would come!

BENEFICIARY OF HIS VICTIM

Set a standard for weights and measures.. they eased the Prince's itch they gave the Princess an itch it's called a the frustrator and countless women have suffered on it for several decades now including my mother of over eighty when they expired her husband

most women do not want to talk of such things are scared of such thing these evil men of this nasty system use that and their spiteful women They use it at full intensity against other women make them sick or kill them with these rays and lasers I was at College when they used it at full intensity and it is so painful it sends some women mad then they take them away they call it loosening them or seasoning them (this is because lab Anna has had over fifty gentlemen)

now I don't care what the hell they do but they shouldn't put their ways onto others

They try to kill me off because the lab bossess Anna sent films - they have new ways of doing that too so don't you think you are safe sitting in your house I could tell you a thing or two about that too and one day I will though the powers to be lie constantly their excuse, it would frighten the population, leak slowly how satelite and such roving searches used by them calling themselves scientists

but Anna only sends the most intimate films because the americans over there were also in her underwear and it is to amuse them for this pleasure. They think differently to us some of the men of their system tell me that this is common in Science women! The one Anna sent of us looped strong receivers picked it up everywhere it set off the alarms at Santa Monica (the lab had been warned before for gross misconduct that is who the Prince chose to 'treat' him and the dear Princess!) We used to be Royal servants at home but I don't think ours were as grotty as that They wouldn't, didn't survive if they were...

Amongst all the stuff they have done to try to destroy us this one really takes the cake Having made a porn film with someone called Lindsey who got a grand for it and is a second rate starlet suplanting my head on it they show it to all their students to learn?

Whilst I was visiting in Budapest they didn't tell Budapest that lab people had had us robbed there but then as they were jews and brits the Huns would probably have dropped on the ground to lick the floor in front of them One day as I was sitting at the window in Semelweis Uc looking over the scenery thinking: I like my ancestral home to death

they put over the sound We have fetched out wives into the lab shown them our dirty film in case you ever go to law about it and told them it was you!

Now ladies, if my ex had taken me to a lab to show me a dirty film of a Patient they called me a PATIENT!!! I would have wondered what they were at and I doubt I would have believed my old man though he was my sun and moon and stars till Miller or Green or what ever their axe man's name is from Redbridge and the Liberal Synagogue separated us as they separated the Royal Couple you know like farmers do heffers...

Match the task to capabilities but then later these wives took my work to print publicly as theirs took the money their men syphoned from our account one small woman with starving kids and ancient grandparents knowing they have absolute power from their lab and the jewish Lords who it appears have the greatest shame of all these criminals. He sins doubly who blames others for his own sins you know.

DEAR FELLOW POETS

why do I bother YOU with my thoughts and mind

because any book I send to the printers does not get there if it gets there the words are changed even the pictures drawingsand names omitted and the bill goes up double often

it appears I am told that in December 1999 our Prince banned my work

I can't think why as at that time I was silent now I have found as the black girls too found if you are silent it is seen as a sign of weakness the only way is to yell

however yelling is blocked yes, this is true yelling is blocked and a Jew at research L.A. advising the Brits how to get out of their International crimes after setting off the alarms at Santa Monica and much more internal ones too of such enormity you would be shocked ordered that all my work drawn of written must be copied to shut me up further

'we copy everything she says we copy everything she does she won't be able to say a thing'

my dear fellow poets I hold you all in high esteem and when driven far away read your every word but I had a problem once I wrote beautiful words and lyrical poems and thoughts so Martin was given them for ads

the lab St Barths is all powerful I can't stop them helping themselves to my money to my work which is in my house it is a tiny little two up two down not a fortress we are on a machine with many others but we are watched constantly so they watch all bank account numbers login numbers, addresses and the rest as they owe us millions and millions in compensation for our lives and if I claim there are a whole mass of people out there who would also claim especially one family also without a father of seven children to whom they have also done unspeakable things this time Pakistanis called Khan all lost in the muddle of mess the lab creates done to them by Pakistanis working for the lab who have been told they will be the leaders of the future community (dear God, help me to get out of here before that happens)

so then I had to think of a way of writing which -yea man- let them copy let them write the truth about themselves I had to turn the tables back on them and let me tell you fellow poets they are making me pay for it but they will not have I will refuse to let them have the flowing thoughts in my mind they can go to hell all these sponsored by this evil lab who are failures so Anna the bossess calls it an experiment copying and reusing my work en masse.. but sadly it is not nice to read

this is shocking when you remember my grandparents had stood alone for their jews against the Nazis and could have been shot anyday

so they syphon my work rob it from my house syphon my bank account (a little of what Nixon got that is called) I never knew Nixon was seen as a threat did you?

so dear poet friend bear with me though some of you hate me because I tell it as it is here for me and tell me to write sweet nothings and nice things when I don't experience a lot of these nice things as I tell you little bit by little bit in little bits and can I tell you I still smile at the sun laugh at corny jokes and find a lot funny though it is beginning to be something akin to black humour but I wonder how those with souls as black as hell can also laugh at times

so you see dear poets my nuns were wrong that is not the measure of life good does not conquer evil!

THE SEVENTH HUNDREDTH PERCENT

It is written for some then it is rewritten for some and then new additions for some and then rewritten and that is how we change facts without anyone noticing them

was it last year or more son rang from Aussie an underground blast has moved the earth's orbit I think it was nought point nought seven percent or something like that

a nothing he's an underground engineer builds and mends underground train places so he knows these things what shifts water and earth

me I don't listen anymore I don't want to know about the laser driven deep into the earth in India or that they were paid for it

or all the other simulated disasters for the perfect world they will create I have had a belly full lies to cover what they have done and do with counterparts my mind is closed

I am experienced at that as a child refugee I spent much time mute just listening to a new tongue and now how to listen to babble

the only sad thing is my nuns had taught to me this fact or so I thought good will always conquer evil

now wise and old myself I doubt this opinion.... I think we will all pay again and again for these criminal acts..

LORD PALMERSTON LIVES ON

The british politicians have become monsters with this toy from their hoyden in their hands

Right..... the writer of the programme on the machine against the helpless population including our family and the Royal one is guilty of first degree murder

the 'girls' women of the labs of Homerton, Barths and other labs who enforce the programme against the helpless population including our family and the Royal one are guilty of second degree murder

how the former are like the S.S. Commanders who actually give the commands and take pleasure in sadistic acts

the latter the camp guards who administer the kicks so Clare, Jane, Imogen and the rest there are no excuses

there is no word for the jewish lab quacks who tortured and tormented and gave the orders EVEN WHEN I WAS AT JEWISH GATHERINGS and who now help REAL FORMER NAZIS to become raised and destroy those who helped them

Maureen Lipman, who did a copy on t.v. which even I saw on a P.E. lesson I had written out when I was in Teacher training at Netherthorpe School in Sheffield were Sheffield University made her a honourary what? copier of stolen work as indeed Friedlander and the rest took every word I have written and every line I have drawn and painted which is now being robbed sheet by sheet from my home.. using muslims!

-the british pirates were ever just pirates and have not changed-

and my jewish cousins (I repeat..the majority of it has been run by jews robbing them and destroying them) now you know why all of Europe and Russia hated you

as the Muslims will tell you let a jew into your house and he will destroy it eat with a jew

but do not let him sleep in your house he will stab you in the back in the night! we just wouldn't belive it... That was hard for me

that was really hard for me! They try to say it was public property so why are they doing it all secretly and sending thieves into my house

The british have become monsters so all in britain are also becoming monsters It is worse than what we left.

political forces reign supreme!

B.B.C. AND GRANDSON JOSEF

'There are no fairy tales like these' she's written, me to you! Anna lab bossess of St Barths checked her super power computer 'take and use them all and send to the B.B.C.'

The stories written on my returns back there by me Now I know it is out of fashion but I for one loved my nuns of my children's homes and my kids loved their nuns so much that daughter became an R.E. teacher and son pays private for grandsons to go to nuns' schools

so I visit my nuns when I can- for a long time I couldn't everyone wanted to wipe this past out my mother for shame that she had left me there and might never have fetched me but for nun-prodding (the only thing the saintly ladies ever did wrong to me) and ex as it was part of my me!

both dumped me so I was free to be and off I go to see the nuns now and then now a school, when ever I can and send them cards and letters from where ever I can which the lab snaffles and razzles The first time I visited though ancient one of my Sisters from my childhood was still in the bed upstairs

now you might say what sort of people put on a small child's school report born in Poszon Hungary if you had seen Germany then you would have understood and that Vera the teacher was young and inexperienced with kids or refugee kids and wore blood red nailvarnish at the school had nothing to do with the nuns

and when I go I stay at a hostel and sometimes a hotel run by Croatians as my austrian Gran was croatian too and Hungarians hoteliers I found too there in far off Furstenzell

and as I go I write about what I see weaving it into intricate plots of then and now of Bishops at the three rivers in Passau where I remember being left with a family and dreamt the water was crashing through the walls of spies and spivs and japanese (there were lots of Japs on the pleasure boat) as we pass the Bishop's palace I see him skipping over the mountains

guys let me tell you why as a child, though we were alone my life there was one long story the big girls told stories to us little ones we sat shelling peas which the nuns had grown and the girls told stories to the chirping crickets we lay under the cool trees by the hospital and the girls told stories and I remember them still and sometimes write them

and when I came to England I painted and painted pink hued mountains and cried when I saw the G.I waiting for his german girl under the mountains to the music of the mouth organs there was no school shifted from place to place often too sick to learn anything often misunderstood refugee complaints are not really known but always there were stories

and when I went to St Petersburg friend sofie made me well with yellow flowers dried from the forests and good plain bread and butter in a couple of months when it was thought the stress was cancer I wrote and wrote and wrote in the bossom of these friends

and these stories were for my grandson Josef Josef is much loved but his parents are at the top and they have no time for stories so I sent him stories and hand made rugs from deepest Russia that an old Babushka pulled all through the long dark winter of red riding hood and a wolf

and the nasty lab took my grandsons stories recrafted them and sent them to the B.B.C robbing the copies from my house now what rotters you all are over here.

just another line about a funny walking along by the river in Passau I threw crumbs to the pigeon I was having a chat with picking his way along the side of the river he turned his beak up at the bread after a quick sniff: well you fussy bird said I even birds are super clean over here has it got too dirty for you me dropping it onto the floor I should have put it on the stone ledge The bird looked me straight in the eye cawed and flew off in disgust! and it was winter there was little about to eat in the snow and ice.

BELIEVE IT, IT’S TRUE

''we will take everything from her house all work she has ever done all paintings she has ever painted besides taking off letters from her computer and poems from her poetry sites

from the time we took over their lives when she was thirty nine, now sixty two she has worked incessantly having nothing else to keep her sane

since which time we have driven her from pillar to post terrorised her out of homes terrorised her out of Universities terrorised her out of relaxations taken the small moneys they had these lone women and children

no one must know what we do we have destroyed her children but they have persevered we have used new technology to change the way her children think then tried to blame her family for it

we, the lab, have killed as we have done for many years though we had a warning even before we set of the alarms at Santa Monica no one ever bothers to check us we are the playthings of the Ministries

if everything is taken from her house by the girls of the lab who are infact much crueller than the women of the past camps and do not have their guilt challenged in any way as they use remote lasers and rays killing the population bit by bit some years ago they said that each lab member had at least ten deaths to their credit

(Tory, go ahead, we have a surfeit of population) only those not affected with by the rays survive no, this is no longer a Christian country The theory is that all will be forgotten as all the prove will have been taken and we will never talk after greasing so many palms those who remain will sing our praises the new gods of England..

oh you evil, evil lab. at St Barths Jessops hospital in Sheffield which beamed to be knocked down St Barths to be moved we learnt that from the Americans to ensure our future destroy anywhere with files you are worthy of any Gulag or concentration camp except that it was that same system which ran Camp Five Auschwitz anyway

Ordinary her whilst you torture and rob this runs parallel with another programme ask Stan at the lab about that one..

you will not recognise her work but she will as Anna sits at the computer playing day in day out trying to change everything round she was popular and successful now put she was unpopular and bad all of the people used on their screen changing work to give away even Reuters as they had picked up the beams from the lab to the Big Apple a danger

so media bosses came in for treatment and their small fry for given work paula of the Mirror and the rest for a grand a week and the thefts from my house continue and continue and continue turning young and coloured into thieves yes, it is all computer run but you havn't heard about it yet and it is denied by nations but it is being used constantly....

we are watched day and night since nineteen eighty three as have many, many others but I know, that is the big difference and every single word I ever say or write or line I paint is repeated in a dozen different ways and every thought and topic comes onto the television as someone elses since some years ago when I heard our family jokes repeated

here I quote ''all to clear three corrupt quacks and a rotten lab'' so bad the stink is round the world.

All debasement the lab Pakistanis and others wrote will be wiped off the computer though it will stay in your head till you die Britain will not be blamed

a Priest having been called into the lab Mass and Services used for debasement and the Church attacked several times from there (they attack Muslims and Synagogues too the lab is now god in every form on the face of the earth)

the Church now received its presents from the lab ''that was a fantastic sermon I gave'' and a chosen christian girl received my designs sadly not inspired by God or goodness but by an evil lab trying out the depth of its evil.

the head hammerings continue because your mother was wacked over the head by two russian officers when pregnant with you two weeks before birth

she could not hold her head she held her tummy and a bone is splintered in her head the headaches she bore for life afterwards made the G.P. Leech of Scunthorope town

(worst doctor in the town for the eastern refugees) she is a hypochondriac and the rest I prefer not to say though Dr Steiner from our home town there also before disappearing to Canada

had already said what the cause of the headaches was Dr Meyer put everyone's file onto mine as he had sat night after night watching me illegally to cover himself, hence they still attack my brain and skull.

latest postscript from tv: we hammer her head to stop her finding a partner 'she could be cheap by now.' what- from being celebate?

HEAR OH ISRAEL

hear, o Israel including Kissinger and Kaspar who gave the lab St Barths these toys and permission to use in any way they wanted on us 'rubbish' people

Often I heard these words in Synagogue and at the Manor in North London-- (my daughter, now a College Principal, a theology student student at Heathrop paid for a birthday present for me to spend a week there on a course)

thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children and thou shalt speak of them when thou sittest in thy house and when thou walkest by the way when thou liest down and when thou risest up

and thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thy hand and they shall be as frontlets between thine eyes and thou shalt write them upon the doorposts of thy house and upon thy gates...

as Dr Meyer and Dr Green and all those also heard these words and they know to what I refer they are also therefore aware of how the human works they cannot say they are not as their services tell them each and every time with only the smallest ampount of reflection they must understand as did I when I used to listen and think of it all-

remember we too shall talk speak of you to our children as you try to blind them remember one great jew who was blinded and what happened from that..

do they not listen or do they only listen to the evil in themselves?

I too write onto my doorposts all that you have done and are doing in this horror of cowardice and attrocities so as the Ethiopian saying goes you know, I know and God knows three of us know and those I tell little scraps to on this poetry sites and you say nobody knows before you said no one will believe her it is changing bash and rob away No one listens...yet!

The pain level has been put up to a new intensity pressing skull chest and back till even I take it easier Dr Meyer said on the lab file against you I wrote: She complains at every pain (a lie as my doctor's report would prove) let her explain away the constant pain

In the stolen books you kept writing about 'us' as the horror house so we had to have them all stolen the letters you wrote to your husband whom we had taken from you by the lab and all the rest of the poems and stories we are not to be found out

I wrote on the secret file 'she romances' so that all who follow and there are many as we use the file of lies to train all our staff in evil and pain for ever and ever so therefore I have branded you a liar for ever though it is not true

this means the lab students and staff must disregard everything you say every accusation will become a lie

but the shame of it all is that our family had given all to save the People under the noses of Hitler!

ah yes, I remember now, years ago ''we are not believing people'' So why is one of you at the Liberal Synagogue why not just go to a Bingo Club Mrs Green and your Delilah of Redbridge.

and now another female tv star has gone to the lab St Barths. and thanks me for my work given to her!

'put: it is a classic case the technology will not be released yet they say at the end of the century so her knowledge of what we do is meaningless so we have the sway in the future someone will know what we did but we will be long dead by then.'

She must be moved to Europe I can control it and her in Europe but I am not so sure about America or elsewhere! so sayeth the lab.

TESTING THEIR ELBOWS

not me: I never voice my suspicions and never have we don't as a family where ever we have been

we leave the dirt to those with dirty minds I just repeat some of it to try to make sense of what gives

'it's a slow poison -which tricks are possible- world wars come from games like this the circle continues'

Kinnock is a fine man you don't get it? Kinnock, like Banks was another of my former life

His niece Margaret was one of my best friends at school I wrote to his wife for advice about the lab the centre from which some of this radiates

I didn't believe it but someone else had already worked it out and put it over this morning I am amazed that the B.B.C. who must know

arn't ashamed one can't expect governments to feel shame The lab has been 'virtual reality playing' Russia for about two weeks now!

Tanya, Tatania, Vladimir and the rest suddenly walked all about me here in Pagehell but guys, I am so used to it and know it is 'made' by the lab

so am become blind and dumb, which is not new we had the same under Hitler and Stalin you close your ears and eyes and go quietly on your way though it is harder now with this media playing along

I just don't listen though it is sad what these ruthless barbarians do with this new power and try to read biblical and ethical stuff in the face of these new lunatics and maniacs

who control things at the moment.

0 notes

boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

36 Questions to Fall in Love

Summary: When Derek bets Spencer that he cant make someone fall in love with him in a week, he doesn’t expect Spencer to marry the girl the next day

warnings: strangers to lovers, blind dates, betting, talks of: drug use, drug addiction, abusive marriages, rape, sexual assault, abuse, attempted murder, mass shootings, parental death, love confessions, elopements, opposite of slow burn

word count: 8K

A/N: this is based on a request I received a while back about this article

Derek was a betting man, to say the least. He knew Spencer was from Vegas, he also knew Emily couldn’t say no to a challenge and that Rossi had enough money to burn. Betting at work was the best way to have fun when he worked there, and now he can’t stop.

“I’m not saying con a woman into loving you, I’m saying let us find a girl and let’s see if she can fall in love with you, take a week off from work and just spend time wooing her, and in a week, me or Emily will hit on her, if she turns us down for you, then you’ve won.”

Derek explained it like it was simple, and yet the mere thought of being set up with someone was horrifyingly nerve-wracking. But he got Spencer to agree… unbeknown to him that he had another bet going on the side.

You see earlier that day he was invited to Penelope’s apartment, her younger sister was moving in for a little while and they needed a big strong man to help move the boxes. And like Penelope, Y/N was really chatty and overly friendly really fast. It was like he’s always known Y/N Garcia.

She explained to Derek how hard it was in California to find good men who want someone to love them, she’s tired of guys thinking she comes on too fast, she wants someone who wants to settle and have kids and be a dad. Not a Vain narcissist who only cares about what the city can offer him.

“The last guy I went on a date with literally ran when I mentioned I read a New York Times article about 36 questions to make you fall in love… I just want a person to love? Is that really so hard?”

A lightbulb goes off in Derek’s mind, and Penelope almost reads it.

“Spencer.” They both reply with the same cheeky grin.

“I bet you, you could be as insane as you say you are and he’d still be in love with you by the end of the week.” Derek teases, and the way she smiles shows just how interested she is.

—

Woo her.

The words have rattled around in his brain every second of every moment since Derek said he found a girl for him.

She was free on Saturday, all Spencer had to do was tell Derek where she should meet him and all Penelope had to do was not mention to Spencer that she had a sister, it was up to Y/N when Spencer learned that fact.

She’s already there at the restaurant when he arrives, he’s not sure what he was expecting when Derek said he found the perfect girl but it wasn’t this. He was thinking it was going to be a joke, that either no one would show or Derek was hooking him up with some hot blonde who was way out of his league.

She was beautiful in a nice dress, her makeup was stunning and she looked so content sitting there, waiting for him. Starring her ice water with a straw, she wasn’t paying any attention to the room, she barely knew he was there.

“Hi?” He said softly, not wanting to startle her.

“Hi,” she beamed up at him, that same unsure look on her face. Neither of them was expecting anything from the other, but they were pleasantly surprised.

“Spencer Reid,” he says, actually extending a hand to shake her’s because it’s the chivalrous thing to do.

She reaches out her hand, watching him take it and kiss her knuckle softly, she’s so surprised. “Oh, um, Y/N Garcia,” she whispers the name and his eyes go wide.

“Garcia?” He panics a little, sitting down in the booth and facing her as her face drops at his reaction.

“Did he not tell you I’m Penelope’s sister? I knew Derek was up to something,” she looked like it was all too good to be true, upset almost.

“He didn’t, he probably wanted you to tell me, I mean this all so we can get to know each other,” Spencer shrugs it off, interested in seeing why Derek picked her of all people.

“I guess,” she smiled again, “so what do you do?”

“I work with Penelope, I specialize more in psycho-linguistics and geographical profiling.”

She nods in approval, “I’m a high school English teacher.”

Spencer laughs lightly, “what’s that like?”

“Interesting to say the least, especially in California. Every kid there wants to be on TikTok, no one cares about reading any of the books I ask them too,” she just shakes her head. “I’m worried about the next generation.”

“Me too, it’s almost alarming how many kids are unsubs,” he agrees. She’s so easy to talk to, he’s suddenly not nervous anymore and the waiter is coming to take their order.

He never even opened the menu, “what looks good?” He asks Y/N, nervous and she can tell.

“I think I’m going to have the lobster, let’s go all out?” She shrugged again, both of them feeling more adventurous than normal.

“I’ll have that as well,” Spencer smiled, keeping eye contact with only her as she handed the menus back to him.

They ordered sides and appetizers, stuffed mushrooms and fresh bread, it was amazing. They traded small facts about each other, Spencer noticed a lot of Penelope’s quirks in her, she was very friendly and kind and funny. She loved to tease him and make him laugh, his stomach hurt by the time their lobsters came out.

“I’ve never done this before,” she admits, putting on her bib and holding the claw cracker in one hand.

“Neither have I, but I think it’s fairly simple you just need to apply the correct amount of pressure,” he demonstrates by picking up the crustacean and cracking it at its weakest point before twisting it open.

He’s surprised he did it, so is she as she copies is movements and struggles a bit. “You got it, come on,” he encourages her as she squeezed so hard her hands shake but the shell does eventually crack.

She smiles like she just won the science fair, overly proud as they stare at each other. Enamoured already by just how cute the other was.

“So, what do you do for fun outside being a fed?” She teases between bites.

“I like to spend my time finding new things, I tend to go to the same spots often but I’m always looking for new places. I like the theatre, the old cemetery is nice, I’m excited for the new phantasmagoria to open this fall,” he explains all his interests as he cracks away at his dinner. “I just like to try and appreciate what’s out there, after everything I see.”

“That’s really nice, I’ve always wanted to go to a phantasmagoria actually, science magic is the best kind of magic,” she says it like it’s nothing, almost embarrassed by the interest.

“Me too, I love magic,” Spencer lights up, “I can actually do some magic, hold on.”

He digs his NA chip out of his pocket, showing it to her quickly before making it disappear and reappear behind her ear and she was so smitten, “how the heck?” She asked as she reached for her own ear, shocked at the fact he could do it.

“Do you always keep a coin on you for that?”

He thinks about it for a second, not knowing if he should tell her or not. “No, I keep this on me for support.”

He places it on the table, she picks it up instead and inspects it carefully, “2 years is a really long time, I’m really proud of you.”

He feels like he falls in love with her in that moment, she places the chip back in his hand and smiles, “it’s not easy to admit nor recover from, it’s something you should be really proud of Spencer.”

“Thank you,” he blushes, “um, is there anything else you want to know about me?”

She bites the inside of her lip as she thinks, “actually I was reading an article the other day that said there are a list of personal questions you can ask someone and by the end of all of them you should be in love with the person.”

He thought it was a good opportunity to take a sip of water, upon hearing the word love he realizes it was a mistake. He chokes lightly, coughing as he puts the glass back down and apologizes.

“Love?” He repeats the word.

“I’m going to be real honest here Spencer, I don’t date to get my heartbroken, I date to find my life partner so if you’re not interested in marriage or kids one day tell me now,” she’s very stern about it and he can tell she’s gotten her hopes up and heart broken before.

“I want that too, I just didn’t expect you to be so upfront about it,” he’s honest, because clearly that’s what she wants from him. “What was on the question list?”

“Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?” She asks, remembering the questions easily.

“Wow,” he takes a moment to think about it, “alive or dead?”

“Sure, why not,” she shrugs.

“Probably biological Eve,” he comes to the decision rather quickly. “I’ve always been fascinated with the fact all humans can be traced back to one single women. I’m sure she was amazing, it must have been so interesting being the first women on earth.”

“That is the coolest answer anyone has ever given me,” she smiles, “I think I’d be boring and have dinner with Julia Roberts.”

“She’s a very talented actress,” he smiles, recognizing the name from Penelope’s movie nights. “Um, I have an eidetic memory, do you have the list I can just read it once and then we can spit it back and forth easily.”

She looks at him with wide eyes and a growing smile, “yeah hold on.” She takes out her cellphone and pulls up the article before handing it to him.

He reads it quickly and then hands it right back, she was amazed, surely it was a joke? “Would I like to be famous?” He repeats the next question to himself.

“No,” he’s very certain. “I’ve had some encounters with psychopaths who think they are my biggest fans, perfect match or my only rival, and it’s not fun. I’m sure being adored is lovely, but I don’t like the attention if it’s not from a good place.”

“So you want praise but you don’t want a stalker?” She dumbs it down slightly with a smile, “I definitely don’t want to be famous because I don’t like other peoples opinions about me.”

“That’s incredibly fair.”

“Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say?” She asks the next one.

“If it’s for work or my mother, yes,” he answers it completely honestly. “I prefer not to make phone calls, so when I have to make them I typically spend the day before panicking.”

She smiles, “well, if you ever need someone to call tech support and pretend to be you, I am really good on the phone.”

“Like Penelope?”

She nods, “we spent a lot of time talking on the phone when she moved to Virginia for your team.”

“That must have been really hard, I’m surprised she hasn’t mentioned you yet?”

“I’m not really her sister,” she smiles, “I wish I was. I met her during a really abusive relationship and I didn’t feel close to my parents anymore, so my old name didn’t feel right either. Penelope and her brothers were the closest thing I had to family, so I took their name after my divorce.”

“That’s beautiful,” his smile is so soft, she wonders if he feels the same about Penelope.

“What do you consider a perfect day?” She moves on before she can pry into his personal life further, just to pry into his personal life further— in another direction.

“Nobody dies.”

“Even the bad guys?” She squints as she asks it, wondering if that was an appropriate topic for the first date.

“I’m not a fan of the prison system, and I’m really not a very big fan of suicide by cop, let alone lethal injection,” he explained. “Just because you’re a murderer or a psychopath doesn’t mean you have to die too, there is rehabilitation and a way to keep them sane and alive while keeping people safe. I just hate when people die.”

“Me too,” her smile is sad, “my perfect day would be having my parents back, I’d like to show them my degree and go out for ice cream and give them another hug.”

“We should have our perfect days back to back,” his voice is low, he was nervous to say it. “Cause then once you bring them back, I stop people from dying and they can stay forever.”

He sees her heartbreak as the tears well in her eyes, “that would be nice.”

“Um,” he clears his throat and then takes a sip of water. “When was the last time you sang to yourself, or someone else?”

“I was singing in the car on the way here,” she smiles with a sniffle, “I sing a lot actually. I’m always humming or tapping as well, if my mind is wandering then it has to make some kind of noise.”

“What is your favourite thing to hum?” He can’t stop himself from asking it, “I personally do the muppets, duh duh nanana, manamanah.”

She laughs again, and a tear slips out as her eyes close. She hurries to wipe it away, “I often find myself doing the teletubbies song, you know; ‘Tinky-Winky, Dipsy,’” she sings the words before humming the tune to match.

“That’s a good one too,” Spencer is really enthusiastic suddenly, the way he would be with Penelope. He was really comfortable. “If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?”

“Mind, because that’s how you keep a good body. If I can keep the strength and willpower to get up in the mornings and go to work and remember why I love being alive, I’ll be young forever,” she answers like it’s rehearsed.

“I was going to say I’d want my mind too, but the way you said it is a lot more elegant,” he teases. “My mom has Alzheimer's, you were honest about wanting kids and you should know that's genetic. I can also pass on schizophrenia and any other mental illness, like depression, bipolar disorder and most definitely anxiety—

“Spencer,” she reaches across the table for his hand, “breathe, that’s not scary to me. My grandma had it too, I’m not optimal gene-wise either.”

He takes a deep breath, “Sorry.”

“It makes you real to react like that, I don’t mind seeing that side of you. Fake strong men and men who compensate are the worst, in my opinion.”

“Mine too,” he agrees. “I am an anxious worrier, I barely sleep, I’m terrified of the dark, I have PTSD nightmares about my short stay in prison, and I cry a lot when I’m alone.”

“It was a mistake clearly? The prison stay, that is.”

“Yeah,” he nods, moving to the next question. “Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?”

She laughs through her nose at the switch topic change, “well until I was 19 I thought my husband was going to kill me, then I thought maybe it would be myself, now I’m content dying in my sleep when I'm old.”

“It is ever-changing,” he agrees. “I have died before.”

“What did it feel like?”

She doesn’t ask how, she knows he was sober, she knows he’s been to prison, she knows he’s an agent. It wasn’t a surprise. Penelope even almost died once before, it was an unfortunate part of the job.

“Warm.”

“Like soothing warm, like drinking a hot chocolate, or that uncomfortable warm like being in a hot car?”

“Like a hug.”

Her lips purse, she hums a bit. “Yeah, my answer stays the same.”

“Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.”

“You like to learn,” she smiles again. “You enjoy the mysteries and the horribleness of the world because it keeps you grounded. You love your mom.”

“We love Penelope, our hearts have similar scars, life has been mean to us for no reason,” he adds 3 more for good measure.

“What are you grateful for in life?” She asks the next question.

“I’ve never said this before,” he prefaces, “but found family. If it wasn’t for my team, no matter who was coming and going over the years, anyone who has had my back. Anyone who loves me in any capacity. That’s what I’m grateful for.”

“We’re not even through the first set of questions and I can see why everyone loves you,” she admits. Moving far too fast, doing exactly what Derek wanted from her.

To scare him and see if he still stays.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Spencer stops the questions, “I can’t continue if I can’t tell you this.”

“Yeah, what’s wrong?”

“Derek and Emily bet me $20 that I couldn’t get someone to fall in love with me, he wanted to set this up and then hit on you in a week and see if you picked me over him, and it feels like a really shitty thing to do to you. It’s making me feel like you’re an object more than a person and I feel really bad about it.”

She just laughs and he has no idea why. “He bet me that I could be as insane as I am with most of my dates and you’d still want to stay with me after a week.”

“You’re not mad?” He worries, by passing her words and the implications of it all.

“No, did you truly mean how you feel?”

“Yes…”

“Then I accept your apology, you’re really kind Spencer. I believe you when you speak, I trust you,” she explains her reasoning and he settles once more. “You’re the most real man I’ve ever met, I think.”

“Thank you,” he smiles again, reaching out for her hand once more, “do you want to finish these questions?”

“Not really,” she smirks, “I think they were wrong about all 35 of them making you fall in love with someone.”

“How so?”

“It only took me 9.”

It’s so absurd they start to laugh, making eye contact, they feel delirious. His hand in hers, she squeezes it lightly and he never wants to let it go.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“Sure, did you drive?” She asks.

“No, I walked over.”

She gets up from the table and takes his hand once more, “well, are we going to mine or yours?”

“Are you living with Penelope?”

“Yours it is then,” she teases, bumping his shoulder. This was going to be fun.

Spencer pays for their meal and meets her out front, he gets in her passenger seat and gives her the directions. “Do you want to finish the questions on the drive?” He asks.

“Hmm, well, 11 is a long one, if you want to start telling me your life story in graphic detail? Or we can jump to 12 and you can tell me what super ability you’d like to wake up with?”

“Have you ever watched star trek?”

She’s not expecting that, it makes her take a double-take, she laughs lightly, “Yeah, why?”

“Deanna Troi can sense peoples emotions, I think that would really help with my job,” he explains it easily. “And in times like this.”

“I can just tell you,” she offers, pulling into his apartment complex, she can tell why he walked.

“You don’t have to yet, let it simmer,” he smiles softly, he’s not ready for her to make a decision like loving him when she really doesn’t know everything yet. “Come inside?”

She nods, getting out and taking his hand again for the walk inside. His house is green, and it makes sense. There are door wooden bookshelves and the distant smell of old books and spilled coffee, it’s dusty and old and very Spencer.

“Can I tell you some of my story?” She asks as she kicks her shoes off.

“Absolutely,” he follows her lead, “do you want anything, wine, water?”

“Wine would be nice,” she smiles, following him to the kitchen, “you know my favourite place to talk to someone is in the kitchen.”

“Why?”

“It's the heart of the house,” she smiles slightly, “that's what my mom used to say. This is where all the love happens.”

He loves her and he knows it already, she makes him happy and calm and if she’s in the heart of his house she might as well know all of his own heart.

“I was born in Vegas,” Spencer admits, pushing his life story past his lips before she can stop him or else he wouldn’t.

“My mom was a professor, my dad is an attorney, I have always been really smart and not so athletic, I enjoy chess and reading and I had big thick glasses as a child. My mom participated in a murder and my dad covered it up and that ruined their marriage but they blamed it on her schizophrenia when he left. And then I was left to raise her when she was supposed to be raising me. I cared for her until I turned 13, I left her during the weeks and my aunt would make sure she was okay and I would travel back and forth from CalTech and Vegas on the weekends.”

She can see the exhaustion on his face at just remembering it.

“I got my licence at 16, and then I took her car and it was easier. When I was 18 I put her in a sanatarium and sold her house and took a road trip with my friend to Virginia to go to the academy. He didn’t like it after a week and asked me to go with him to New Orleans and I didn’t— I met my mentor and joined the BAU instead. I was kidnapped and drugged by a man with DID… I died and then his personality switched and Tobias brought me back. I had an addiction to Dilaudid for a few months after, then I got sober after visiting Ethan in New Orleans.”

“Was he good to you?”

“Wonderful,” he smiles, “he was my shoulder to cry on for a long time and I didn’t realize how much I needed him in my recovery until we got a case and I had a reason to see him. I missed a plane and ignored my friends to just be with him. He’s the reason I got clean, not anything else… he told me that I was too special to hate myself, and he was right.”

“He was,” she smiles. “He sounds lovely.”

“And then, the first time I saw my mom after putting her in the sanatarium was because she told parts of our case to a man who lost his daughter, and he did a lot of messed up stuff… like he shot my co-worker. She was another special person to me—“

“I’m so sorry.”

He smiles, “she lived, don’t worry. I loved Elle, she was amazing but the bureau didn’t see that. She was a broken toy to them, we all become one eventually. I miss her a lot.”

She walks into his space and wraps her arms around him, giving him a hug as he rests against the counter, she makes no attempt to move back. Holding him in the heart of the house, close to her own. He holds her back just as tight.

“Maeve, she was another person I loved who got shot, she died. I see her sometimes when I sleep, she visits me when I’m in the most need. I’ll always love her, but she’s gone. The only other woman who claims to have loved me was a psychopath who is dead now too, she framed me for murder, had me drugged, kidnapped my mother and the list goes on and it’s not pretty. In prison she had a lot of bad things happen to me, I have scars that will never heal and a part of me was lost but I’m okay now.”

They have a moment of silence in the middle of their stories, she absorbs it while preparing her own, rubbing his back as her cheek stays pressed to his chest.

“I was born in California, my parents were high school sweethearts, they made me at prom. Learned that from the scrapbooks,” she laughs against his chest, “they were great and then they died when I was 14, it was a mass shooting at a mall, and I went to a foster home. I married the oldest son in the home after he groomed me for a few years… I met Penelope when I was 20 and she helped me get divorced and back on my feet and her brothers protected me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry you relate to loss.”

“It's the one thing that unites us all, really,” Spencer’s voice is barely a whisper. “When you think about it, we’re all born and we all die, the only difference is how we fill the middle.”

They never get to that bottle of wine he mentioned, she pulls back and asks the next question as she drags him to his bedroom. “If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future, or anything else, what would you want to know?”

“If I get to have kids.”

She drags him into the room and closes the door, “that was going to be my answer.”

“Is there something that you've dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it?” He asks as she starts to take her clothes off.

“Sleep beside the love of my life.”

“I’ve never woken up beside the love of my life,” he replies with a soft smile and follows suit, getting undressed down to their underwear before climbing in bed.

“Greatest accomplishment?” She asks as they settle in, laying her cheek on his chest once more.

He takes a moment to think of everything he’s done that has been good, and one really stands out. “there was a case a few years back, we found a bunch of kids who went missing and returned them to their families and gave answers to the families of children who didn’t make it. Days like that feel like a reward.”

“Getting divorced,” she pushes the words out quickly.

“Most valued friendship?” He asks, knowing she doesn’t need to explain herself.

“Penelope.”

“Derek.”

“Most treasured memory?”

“When JJ placed her son in my arms and told me I was his godfather,” his voice is hushed and she knows it’s because he doesn’t want to cry. “It's the closest I’ve gotten to being a father so far.”

“I got an end of the year present when I was first starting out, this girl told me that I was the reason she enjoyed reading again and it was the reason I started teaching, I’ll never forget her. Tammy Brownlee, she graduated in 2009 and we’ve been Facebook friends ever since.”

“Most terrible memory?”

“My parents dying.”

“You’d think mine would be dying right?” He asked, she nodded against his chest, “it was actually being held down by 3 men, getting a sock shoved in my mouth while they beat me.”

She kissed his chest softly, “I’m sorry, I know that feeling. Mind you, he was only 1 man, it’s not a good feeling.”

“If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?”

“If it’s definite; not like a chance or a cancer statistic, if it’s like this is the day you die no ifs and's or butts, then I’d just continue as normal and have 1 really awesome day right before,” she smiles against him. “Make the most of it all.”

“If I was dying a year today, I’d ask you to marry me.”

“Already?” She laughs, thinking he’s kidding.

“You want a nice husband and a kid? I will be good for you as long as I know you, and I’ll have as many kids as you want me to help you make.”

She’s silent as she thinks about it. “What does friendship mean to you?”

“Someone who is there for you even when they don’t want to be, even when it’s hard,” Spencer whispers, thinking about his friends.

“It means hacking the government and voiding a marriage and changing someone's name so they can escape,” Y/N whispers. “don’t tell the feds she did that too.”

“What roles do love and affection play in your life?”

“I crave it and hardly receive it, but I give it out like it’s a sample at costco,” she snickers at the example she gave. “It’s something that people have always admired about me and yet it’s also the thing that scares people away. When I love, I love hard and it’s full and annoying and you will feel suffocated sometimes, but just tell me when and I’ll back off.”

“I don’t know how to ask for what I need,” Spencer whispers. “But I need someone to love me like that.”

“The next one is to alternate 5 good things about each other,” she rests her chin on her hand as she looks up at his face in the darkness, “soft.”

He pauses for a moment, bypassing the easiest one and saying pretty, instead, he says; “you’re honest.”

“You’re very caring,” she replies.

“You see beauty in the world still.”

She smiles at that one, “you make the world beautiful.”

“You are beautiful.”

“And you’re handsome, that’s my 4th,” she keeps track in her head.

“You’re true, to your heart, your promises, everything.”

“And you’re real, you see the world for what it is and you don’t try to change it for the better. You want to make it manageable,” her explanation is the longest one yet. “Was your childhood happy, and do you feel close with your family still?”

“I write to my mom every single day and I drop the notes off weekly, and no,” he doesn’t want to cry, but he feels like he might again. “It was liveable, I made it.”

“Mine was happy until I was 14, then I was alone, I have 1 living aunt and she is strange but I get a card from her every Christmas,” Y/N adds. “I’d like to think your lack of love and my need to fill the world with what I miss from my parents will make a really good family dynamic.”

“Me too.”

“How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?” She asks, “I think I know already, but it’s the next one.”

“She hit me a few years ago because I made her take some medicine, she hit me once when I was a kid too…” he whispers them so that they stay a secret, if they can’t be heard else where then they don’t exist in his mind. “She was a wonderful mother but the worst memories stick out the most now. She’s forgetting everything and all I can remember is how hard it’s been on me, like a bad son.”

“My mom was my best friend, and I still talk to her every day, I bring her and my dad around with me in my necklace,” she pulls the chain on her neck and shows him the little jar. “Mom, Dad, this is Spencer. Spencer, this is my mom and dad.”

He holds it in his hand and tips it gently, “nice to meet you.”

“The next one is weird,” she changed the topic again.

“Make three true "we" statements each. For instance, "We are both in this room feeling…" Spencer says it verbatim. “We are both feeling understood.”

“We are both hopeful.”

“We are both falling in love,” Spencer ends the feelings with the most prominent one.

“We are,” she agrees with another smile.

“Finish this,” he insists on moving forward, “I wish I had someone I could share…”

“The rest of my life with,” she whispers this time. “If we become besties, what’s something I should know?”

“I think I’ve told you all the important stuff so far,” Spencer thinks hard, pausing for a moment. “My butt is ticklish?”

It makes her giggle, “that is a good one. My sides and the bottom of my feet are ticklish too.”

“Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you've just met,” Spencer reads the question back from memory, “don’t be afraid to be too honest.”

“I like that you know how I feel but I hate that you’ve been hurt. I like how you listen to me, and I really like how comfortable you make me feel. I’m almost naked in your bed right now and I know you’d never, ever hurt me, and I haven’t felt that in a really long time.”

“I like that you are indulging me in the dream of becoming a husband and a dad one day… most people say it’ll happen but they never picture it. No one has ever said yeah id have your kids. I like that you know what you want and you’re actively looking for it.”

She moves up so she can hold his face in her hands, “only 7 more. Is it working?”

He nods, “my most embarrassing moment is the time I had a wet dream on the work jet.”

She laughs and then covers her mouth in panic, “I’m sorry that’s not funny.”

“It is, it’s fine,” he smiles. “I was dreaming about kissing this actress we helped, she actually did kiss me in the pool, so I guess it was bound to happen.”

She leans in and presses her lips against his, holding his cheeks in her hands his wrap around her waist as he holds her there. She peppers smaller kisses to his lips before pulling back, “we both cried in front of each other already today, so next question.”

“Tell me what you like about me already?”

Her hands trail his chest and down towards his boxers, he’s hard again from just kissing and she smirks, “this is promising.”

His hand on her back unclips her bra, “I love boobs, not even going to lie. They are my weakness.”

She pushes the straps down and tosses her bra aside, pressing her naked chest against his, she moves on. “What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?”

“Being called insane, saying I'm seeing things, or acting crazy, those are things I don’t like to be told because they make my anxiety worse.”

“Noted,” she smiles. “I talk to myself a lot so get ready for that.”

“Okay,” he smiles, she’s way too easy to be real.

“I don’t want to mention my last husband from here on out, I think if I get married again I will never tell anyone I have a first husband,” she’s firm in her words.

“Technically, Y/N Garcia has never had a husband,” he reminds her.

Her face lights up at the realization, “you’re right.”

“If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven't you told them yet?” Spencer asks.

“I regret not screaming at my ex before I disappeared but I wanted to live.”

He hums, understanding how it feels. “There isn’t anyone in specific I’ve wanted to tell this to, but I wanted to kill people when I was in prison. It made me really angry being in there and I let myself dream about killing people who hurt me and then I almost did kill someone.”

“Remember what you said about bad guys?” She whispers a helpful tip, “even the worst people deserve to have a chance at life. And you’re not hardly as bad as the worst people you’ve met.”

“You’re right,” he agrees. “Thank you.”

“This place burns down, what’s one thing you’d run back inside for? Outside of people and animals…” she asks the 3rd last question.

“The book Maeve gave me.”

“The girlfriend who died?” She confirms, and he nods. “If my place with Penelope burned down, I just want my necklace and I don’t take it off that often.”

“The next question is interesting,” Spencer thinks about it, “Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing, and why?”

“I’m glad I wasn’t at the mall with my parents, if I saw them get shot it would hurt more,” she whispers. “I’m sorry you had to see Maeve die like that.”

“In a way, I’m glad I saw Maeve get shot, otherwise I wouldn’t have believed it. She never felt real to me and then she was dead…”

She just hums, “Share a personal problem and ask your partner's advice on how he or she might handle it,” she whispers the last question.

“Also, ask your partner to reflect to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen,” Spencer adds in the second half.

“I need to find a place to stay now that I’m here, I don’t want to keep living with Penelope. As much as I love her, I want my own place,” Y/N admits.

“I think I’m in love with this girl that I just met and I don’t know if it’s too soon to ask her to look for a house with me?” Spencer pretends to sigh, “she’s super cool and I think we’d make some nice kids. I would love some advice.”

“Has she told you she loves you yet?” She teases.

Spencer shakes his head. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too, Spencer,” she replies, leaning in one more time to kiss him.

It’s deeper this time, she breathes him in and rests her forehead against his as she breathes between them.

“How did that work?” She whispers, truly amazed at how easy it was.

He shrugs, “it’s a good questionnaire.”

“You were really honest, your heart is really pure and I would like to get to know you more, but I feel like I know everything?” She shakes her head while she talks, overthinking all the things she has learned, “I don’t even know what could be left?”

“My birthday is October 28th?” He whispers, “we have a lot to discover yet.”

—

When she doesn’t come home in the morning, Penelope knows she’s at Reid’s house. She just doesn’t expect to walk in and find them naked in Reid’s bed, out cold and cuddled together with their clothes all over the room.

It looks like something happened. If only she knew the truth.

“Oh my god?” Penelope’s voice wakes them up and Spencer scrambles to make sure they are covered by his blankets.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N shouts as she wakes up.

“I came to see if you were okay. I expected one of you to be on the couch, I didn’t think it went this good?”

“We just slept in the same bed, I promise,” Spencer turned bright red as he panicked, “we just got to know each other and talked all night, in what we normally sleep in.”

“Uh-huh,” Penelope smirks, “so I take it the 36 questions worked?”

“Perhaps,” Y/N smirks back at her sister.

“Do you use it on many people?”

“No one has made it past the first question,” she smiles at him instead, kissing his cheek as Penelope watches.

“That’s my queue to go, um… yeah, wow, I didn’t see this happening so fast,” Penelope is shocked but in the best way.

She leaves just as fast as she arrived and Y/N settles back into Spencer the second she closes the bedroom door. “You know, if she’s not going to believe us we might as well do it? If you accidentally get me pregnant then we can move fast and no one will question it.”

He laughs, “accidentally, is the key word there.”

“My parents made me at prom after crushing on each other for 2 years… I think knowing each other for 2 days isn’t the weirdest way to start a family?”

“Honestly,” Spencer lets out a sigh and her happy mood drops to a more serious one. “I was a little worried that we’d wake up this morning and you’d change your mind.”

“Why?”

“In the heat of the moment, learning everything about each other and saying I love you was really exhilarating, but I have a hard time believing it,” he admits, “not many people mean it, or stay around after they tell me they love me.”

She cuddles back into the crook of his neck and holds him as tightly as possible, wrapping a leg around him for optimal coverage, “I am staying right here, because I love you, Spencer.”

“Okay,” he whispers. Sounding like he still doesn’t believe it.

“I love you because you’re honest, you want what I want and you’re truly kind. You’re friends with my sister, you’re smart, you would make a great dad, you won't hurt me, you are really nice to cuddle with, and I know you mean it when you say you love me because it’s not a word you use lightly.”

“Are you my girlfriend now?” He wonders aloud, “cause if you really want to have a kid, I have my mom's old wedding ring in my closet, and I would rather be married to you before we do that?”

“Okay,” she whispers, tears welling in her eyes as she hides her face in his neck, “the courthouse is literally just down the road?”

“We can get breakfast together after?” Spencer adds, rubbing her back as they plan, he wasn’t scared anymore.

“Penelope will kill me if she’s not there, can we have her as our witness?” Y/N finally sits up to look at him, pulling away to sit on the bed, still shirtless.

His smile while he tries to keep eye contact with her is so funny, she giggles a little as she hides her nipples behind her palms and cups her boobs.

“I’m pretty sure she’s still in my living room,” Spencer giggles, “Penelope!?”

She comes back in then, “yes?”

“We’re going to the courthouse to get married, wanna come?” Y/N asks with an embarrassed smile.

“Yes!” She cheers, “I’ll go get you a dress!”

And then she’s off again, this time actually leaving Spencer’s apartment. “What if we don’t tell Derek, and let him hit on me next week anyway?

“Then you can say ‘sorry I have a husband,’ and he’ll body slam me to the floor,” Spencer laughs nervously, “the whole team is going to be so pissed they missed my wedding…”

She frowns, “send out a mass text, tell them to meet us at the court house, it’s their day off right?”

“You’re right,” he smiles.

This was going to be interesting.

—

Walking out of the courthouse, hand in hand, she’s in a white dress, he’s in a suit he’d probably wear to work, Penelope is crying and the whole team is waiting outside for them.

At the bottom of the courthouse steps, they all clap and cheer, throwing rice at them like an old movie, Spencer’s smiling so hard his cheeks are burning. Y/N introduces herself to everyone, hugged over and over by everyone she should have met 15 years ago.

Derek is tapping his foot, waiting for Spencer to come and hug him, “what the fuck?” He asks as Spencer steps into his space, wrapping his arms around him and shaking his back and forth.

“Nice try, I’ll give you $20 as a thank you,” Spencer teases as he pulls away. “She is perfect.”

JJ and Will are busy talking to Y/N when he turns around, Mike and Henry not far behind them. Spencer walks over and wraps Henry up in his arms, the kid was growing way too fast, Spencer loved him so much it hurt sometimes.

“Y/N, this is my godson,” Spencer introduces them, “Henry, this is Y/N.”

She gives him a big hug too, “do you have any cousins, Henry?”

“No, but I was 8 when Michael was born,” he smiles, “and I’m getting old enough to be a good babysitter?”

Spencer laughed, messing up Henry’s hair quickly with a smile, “I’m sure by the time you’re a cousin you’ll be great.”

They take a group photo outside, Spencer and Y/N in the middle, everyone was smiling. It was the first time all of them had been in a photo together, the entirety of Spencer’s found family. Now they were Y/N’s too.

She hyphenated her last name, Y/N Garcia-Reid, and their kids would share the same one. He was not only about became a father thanks to Y/N, but Penelope would also become an Aunt once more. It was like a gift that kept on giving, seeing Spencer and Y/N create a little family of their own.

—

She cried her eyes out when she met Diana. She wasn’t expecting to be so emotional, but then Diana was lucid and very welcoming and sweet.

“It’s going to be a pleasure having you as my daughter,” Diana smiles, thinking it was just a nice thing to say.

Y/N cries and holds her so tight Diana almost can’t breathe but she lets her hold her as long as she needs to, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome?”

“I haven’t had someone to call mom since I was 14,” Y/N whispers, “if that’s okay?”

Diana hugs her just a little too tight in response, “you can call me mom whenever you want.”

“Just until you become a grandma,” she whispers again as she pulls back and Diana’s attention snaps to Spencer.

“Are you trying?”

He nods, “we want kids, we’re not getting any younger.”

Diana wraps him up in a hug and he almost falls off his chair at the sheer force of it, she was so happy for him. She knew this was all he’s ever wanted; because he would be good at it, he had all this love in his heart, and he wanted to show his father how easy it is to stay.

“You’re going to be a great dad, Spencer,” she holds his cheeks as she pulls away, “I’m proud of you.”

He cried. It’s all he’s wanted from her, and now he has everything right here in this room.

—

When they find out they’re pregnant after the first try, it’s really funny to them. It was all working so well, it was a little too much for them at first. They were looking for a house, she was looking for a permanent teaching job but Spencer convinced her to wait until after the baby is born to go back.

They name her Morgan Garcia-Reid as a thank you for Derek’s little bet, and before she’s even 6 months old they’re pregnant again. By the time they have 4 kids under 5 they take a break and just enjoy their little family.

To think Derek gave them 7 days to fall in love… and then they lived happily ever after.

taglist: @g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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ahtsumu · 3 years

Text

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

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petruchio · 3 years

Text

the original percy jackson series is an indictment of the modern school system, and asks its readers, young children, to look beyond the structural limitations which it imposes on them.

from the start, percy’s relationship with school--whether that be public or private--is a central theme of the novels. in the first chapter of the entire series, he’s quite up front about how he cannot function within the current school system:

“I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again.”

and this is no accident!! especially knowing that rick riordan, prior to writing percy jackson, was a public school teacher. to know that he watched his own child struggle within this system, and wrote the books as a response to a system which made his son’s learning disabilities so extremely difficult to manage. that he then, in his books, invented a world in which rather than being framed as something detrimental, adhd and dyslexia are framed as beneficial. rather than being something that must be fixed by the system, they are something to be celebrated, even admired.

there’s one scene that always sticks out in my memory from the battle of the labyrinth as one of the scenes where i’ve always felt that riordan essentially gives up any pretense of metaphor and speaks directly to the reader: the scene with annabeth and the sphinx. (for context, annabeth is asked repeatedly to mark her answer down on a paper so it can be read by a machine, and the sphinx asks her various trivia facts)

“These aren’t riddles,” Annabeth said.

“What do you mean?” the sphinx snapped. “Of course they are. This test material is specially designed—”

“It’s just a bunch of dumb, random facts,” Annabeth insisted. “Riddles are supposed to make you think.”

“Think?” The Sphinx frowned. “How am I supposed to test whether you can think? That’s ridiculous! Now, how much force is required—”

“Stop!” Annabeth insisted. “This is a stupid test.”

i think it’s pretty obvious the point that he’s making in this scene! that standardized testing forces us to simply memorize facts rather than critically think, that teaching to a test is not teaching people how to learn, and that simply forcing people to accumulate a certain number of “correct” answers does little to actually help our students. and furthermore, that even students like annabeth, who can technically memorize the answers and do well on this test, are still being left behind because they aren’t being taught how to think. and others, who might not be able to perform within this standardized method, will be left behind.

but we can even draw this theme out farther within the novels. the gods themselves in a way serve as a broader metaphor for this broken system as well. the intensely stratified and codified system of the gods, along the refusal to recognize huge swaths of children who don’t fit into the prescribed hierarchy, seems a near perfect allegory to a lot of how much of the public school system functions. in a sense, you could make the argument that the various gods function as school subjects, as boxes to be put into, as particular talents that must be cultivated, and thus divided. it is only when they all finally come together that victory can be achieved. whether that victory is, in the literal sense of the novels, winning a war, or in a more metaphorical sense, critical thought, interdisciplinary learning, and teaching in a way that actually serves the various needs and backgrounds of all students.

the whole arc of the percy jackson series is about inclusion. it’s about disillusionment with a system that forces only a small number of people into particular boxes where they superficially appear to fit, and which leaves the rest behind. in the end, it’s about forcing the system to not only acknowledge, but to actively serve those it now tries to forget about.

what could be a more perfect indictment of our school system than the hermes cabin? pushing anyone who doesn’t fit into a neat box into an already overcrowded and resource strapped community which does little to help them or improve their learning. and to that end, what could be a more perfect solution to all of this than the one that percy proposes? the only solution to this system is one which demands that everyone be recognized, that everyone be offered a seat at the table, and that everyone be loved.

#caroline speaks #ive been saying i would write this essay for a while #and i could get more into it #but again!!!!!!!!!!!!! radical love!!!!!#long thoughts #pjo thoughts

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

The Seven Demon Lords’ Pet Human

So I’m quite fond of the idea that the lesser demons see MC as the brothers’ dumb pet human up until MC is revealed to be a five star badass who can control the brothers on a whim. But Himiko isn’t okay with being referred to as anyone’s “pet”, and after a very bad day, she’s going to let the brothers know that.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Genre: Half Crack Half Fluff

Warning: This story features my MC, who uses she/her pronouns, if that makes you uncomfortable no harm no foul, see you next time

“Just their pet human,”

“Aw, they let their cute widdle pet walk around all by herself~.”

“The brothers’ new pet looks so delicious…”

Himiko Nanami was not one for demeaning nicknames. She had told Luke over and over again that the reason people kept calling him a chihuahua was because he gave them a reaction, but she just couldn’t follow her own advice. A pet… the brothers’ pet… what complete and utter shit.

She had forged pacts with the seven lords of Hell. She had escaped death more times than she could count. On her first day at RAD, she had gouged out a demon’s eye with her headband for trying to eat her. She had walked Cerberus and survived. Himiko was no dainty little pet.

It was a tragedy that some of the demons that wandered the halls of RAD couldn’t see that. Not all the demons were irredeemable anti-human trash, some were quite sweet. But it only took one weird squishy grape to make Himiko refuse to eat the rest of the bowl. That’s how that saying goes, right?

It was supposed to be a good day, it was a Friday for Christ’s sake! But no, the world at large was conspiring to make Himiko’s forehead vein burst.

First period with Satan went normally for the most part, until the two paired up for an assignment and Himiko decided to give Satan a few pats on the head. A few snickers coming from a few rows behind her drew her attention, and right after Satan left to use the bathroom, that’s when she heard it. The first comment of the day.

“Aww, a pet petting her master, how sweet.”

When Satan returned, Himiko was holding a broken pencil.

To her credit, she didn’t dignify those idiots with a response, but their comment managed to burrow its way into her brain and settle there right when she snapped the pencil.

Second period shouldn’t have been so shitty, Himiko had friends in that class. Friends other than the brothers and the other exchange students, but no. Everything sucks in the Devildom.

Paimon had so sweetly offered to share some of his chips with her when he heard she had skipped breakfast. Himiko was in the middle of happily chowing down when some asshole decided to ruin the cute friendship moment.

“Geez Pai, I thought you’d be more responsible than that~.” A demoness a few rows ahead cooed. “Feeding other people’s pets without asking~.”

Paimon choked on the chip he was chewing on while Himiko gave the demoness a bone chilling glare.

“Sh-she’s not- I’m not-”

“How about you mind your own fucking business?”

The demoness only rolled her eyes and turned back to giggling with her friends. It was truly a shame that at least 60% of all the demon ladies in the school were incredibly mean and/or homicidal, a shame for Himiko because she’s a raging bisexual.

With her appetite lost, Himiko forfeited the rest of the chips to Paimon.

Lunch went by as normal as it could have gone. She sat with the brothers as usual and happily watched their antics. When she left the table to throw her trash away was when all hell broke loose.

“-Pet,”

“-Pet…”

“-Pet.”

“-Pet!”

All those damned whispers reached Himiko’s ears and if she had any less patience she would have pulled her hair out and screamed. When she got back to the table, she spent the rest of her lunch period in silence.

What’s worse was that her next class was with Solomon, and the only seat available was next to him. Great…

“Grouchy today, ms. Nanami?”

“Annoying today, mr. Wizard?”

Solomon let out a quiet and carefree laugh and rested his head on his hand. “Oh Himiko, you know I’m always up for being a little annoying.”

Himiko rolled her eyes and tried to pay attention to the teacher. “Whatever…”

Class went on, but Solomon didn’t let up on his quiet pestering.

“Himiiiiii, tell me what’s wrong, I won’t laugh.”

“Go to hell.”

“Poor choice of words, you’re there with me.”

“I hate you.”

“So mean, I’m just trying to help. Solomon the Wise is known for giving great advice!”

Himiko turned and looked at the immortal sorcerer next to her and saw his pitiful attempt at what looked like puppy dog eyes. She rolled her eyes again and turned back to her work.

“I thought you were known for ordering a baby to be sawed in half.”

“Hey!” Solomon huffed, crossing his arms. “The baby did not get sawed in half. The saner of the two women got to keep the baby, I was being smart.”

“Sure, sure.” Himiko couldn’t hold back a bit of a smile. To her own surprise, Himiko began to weigh the pros and cons of actually telling Solomon what was going on. Hm, on one hand, Solomon was the only other human that might possibly understand what Himiko was dealing with, on the other hand, Solomon was a known shifty bastard and could barely be counted as human at this point. In the end, human solidarity won out.

“Solomon,” Himiko began. “Have you ever gotten called a pet before? Like a demon’s pet..?”

Solomon thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Probably. I’ve been alive too long not to have been called every name under the sometimes lack of sun, but I’ve always been more widely known as someone who makes demons into his pets.”

“Mmm, sure.”

“But fret not Himiko, those closest to you know the truth. You’re no pet.”

Not exactly the heaps of comfort Himiko wanted, but at least Solomon answered truthfully and didn’t say anything that would get on her nerves-

“I don’t know why you’re so upset about that nickname though, you’d look amazing in a collar.”

For what happened to poor Solomon right after he said that, let’s just say a palm reader could read Himiko’s future off Solomon’s face.

In fourth period, Himiko had to hold herself back from bitchslapping someone else who decided it would be a good idea to test her. A quick word of advice to anyone in the Devildom who would like to survive an encounter with Himiko, never, ever, fuck with her headband.

“You fiendish demon!” Luke yapped, trying to help get Himiko’s headband back from the nasty awful no good demon who decided to pluck it off her head and hold it out of reach. “Give that back!”

“N’awwwwww, pet buddies!” The taller demon laughed and dangled the headband a little closer. “So cute! Someone get a picture for Devilgram-”

Luke slammed his foot directly into the demon’s kneecap. The demon practically shrieked and doubled over only to be met with Himiko’s knee in his gut. She daintily plucked the headband from his grasp and quickly pulled Luke out of the room.

“Are you okay?” The moment the two were far enough down the hall, Luke began to fuss over Himiko like a tiny nurse. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“No buddy, I’m fine.” Himiko held out her hand for a high five. “Up high,”

Whack!

“Down low,”

Woosh!

“Too slow.”

“Hey!” Luke whined. “No faaaaaiiiiir!”

———————

No one wants their human to be grumpy, especially not the brothers, so when Himiko spent the rest of the time until dinner holed up in her room, they were a tad concerned.

“My human’s all saaaaaaaaad,” Mammon rested his chin on the table and whined. The rest of the brothers sans Asmo were sitting at the table awaiting dinner. “Himiko said she didn’t wanna play the Game of Life, and it’s like, the one game she’s good at…”

“Yeah, she’s been pissy all day.” Belphie added before quietly yawning. “What’d you do, Mammon?”

“Me?!” Mammon sputtered, practically scrambling out of his seat and pointing an accusatory finger at his brothers. “I didn’t do shit! What about you idiots?!”

“Well, let’s look at what we know,” Satan said, waving off Mammon. “During first period we partnered up for a project, I left to use the restroom, then when I came back she looked upset. During lunch when she left, she came back and didn’t speak the rest of the lunch period. Any theories?”

Beel raised his hand, and Satan nodded to him. “Himiko has terrible separation anxiety now, she can’t go too long without us.”

Satan gave Beel a few nods, then turned to the others. “That’s one guess. Anyone else?”

Mammon raised his hand, and Satan promptly ignored him.

“Oi! Pay attention to me!” Mammon stuck his hand in the air and waved harder. “She’s angry because she’s failin’ a class! Every time we’re not distractin’ her, she remembers!”

“I would have heard if she was failing a class.” Lucifer finally piped up from the head of the table, his face was buried in RAD’s newspaper. “You on the other hand, Mammon, are failing three of your four classes this semester.”

Mammon slid back into his seat and scratched the back of his neck. “About thaaaaaat, I need money for uh… for new books n’ pencils n’ shit. That’s why I’m failin’, you’ll lend me money, won’t ya big bro?”

Lucifer didn’t get to respond as Asmo burst into the door of the dining room with a pot of pasta that was almost half his height. “DINNER IS SERVED~!”

As everyone settled in to eat, Himiko finally made her appearance and plopped herself down in her usual seat next to Mammon and helped herself to the pasta with rosé sauce.

“It’s good! It’s good right?” Asmo peppered the group with questions about the food and how good he did. Himiko had to admit, this was damn good pasta. Smooth, creamy, cheesy, all that was missing was garlic bread. In a matter of minutes Himiko had cleared her first bowl and was going in for seconds.

“So Himiko,” Satan said as Himiko continued to shovel pasta into her face at a pace that could rival Beel. “We’ve noticed you’ve been looking a little upset today, care to satiate our curiosity?”

Himiko paused mid bite, which wasn’t doing wonders for her appearance considering she had sauce on the tip of her nose. But still, how sweet of her boys to notice, it made her cold dead little heart swell with love.

“Oh you know, just idiots at school not worth my attention.”

“What have they been saying?” Asmo asked, his voice unusually stiff.

“They’ve been calling me you guys’ pet.” Himiko grumbled. “How ridiculous is that?”

The clattering of forks and the chewing of food halted as the boys went completely silent. Himiko shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she looked around. Had what those demons said been a greater insult to the boys than she-

“Pfff- HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Mammon erupted into laughter and the rest of the brothers followed suit.

“G-Geez,” Belphie snickered, feigning wiping a tear from his eye. “Humans are so sensitive.”

“Excuse me?!” Himiko gripped her fork so hard she was sure it would leave indents.

“I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, Himi,” Levi said between bouts of cackling. “But you are a teeny tiny little normie human surrounded by well… us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?! That I should just roll over and take it!?” Himiko immediately turned and pointed at Belphie. “Don’t you dare.”

Belphie’s mouth was open to make a comment about Himiko’s poor choice of words, but the pact activated and any words died in his throat. Belphie flipped her off and Himiko returned the gesture.

“Himiko,” Beel was sweet enough to not laugh at Himiko’s predicament. “It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, people love their pets.”

As sweet as Beel thought his words were being, Himiko really wanted to send him to bed without dinner.

“Yes, yes, Beel’s right.” Satan took a deep breath and collected himself after his laughing fit had finally ceased. “It’s nothing to worry about, Himiko. It shouldn’t be bothering you. Just don’t listen.”

Himiko somehow gripped her fork even tighter as she levelled her ice cold glare at Satan. “Thank you so much for demonsplaining how I should deal with and feel about the very human problem of people seeing me as some toy.”

The venom in her words seemed to snap the rest of the table out of their giggly stupor, and Mammon gave Himiko a few pats on the back.

“Ah don’t worry about it, Himiko. I’ll fight any bastard who says anythin’ like that.” Suddenly realizing he hadn’t been a tsundere for five whole minutes, Mammon went red and snatched his hand away. “Ya know, just because you’d probably use the pact and order me to anyway…”

“I’m not a dere~” Levi began to softly sing, Himiko perked up and grabbed Mammon’s cheek.

“A tsun-tsundere~”

“Not that song again!”

That should have been the end of that whole debacle. Himiko’s decent mood had been restored and all was well! The gang chatted amicably for the rest of dinner. Himiko made sure to heap loads of praise on Asmo for his amazing pasta. She felt a part of her die when she went in for fourths and the spoon scraped the bottom of the pot.

Too bad nothing ever goes smoothly in the Devildom.

Since it was Asmo’s night to cook, it was Himiko’s night to do dishes, so she got up and began to clear the table. As she began to collect the unused knives, Lucifer, not looking up from his newspaper, handed Himiko his plate.

“Thank you, pet, that’ll be all.”

Himiko stopped dead in her tracks and her grip on the plate tightened. “Repeat that, Lucifer?”

“Thank you, pet, that’ll be all.”

A tiny smirk spread across Lucifer’s face, which only served to make Himiko’s blood boil. If he thought he could make a joke about that while she was still mad he had another thing coming.

As quick as a flash, she had whipped the plate straight at the ground, shattering it into dozens of tiny pieces, before Lucifer even had a chance to say anything, Himiko was standing in front of him with a frigid glare on her face.

“Lucifer, put your hand flat on the table and spread your fingers. Keep quiet.”

With no choice but to obey, Lucifer slapped his hand down on the dining table, though, the glare he was giving her wasn’t any less murderous. Not caring, Himiko’s gaze remained cold and calculating, she turned to the other brothers, who were rooted in place from sheer shock. “Stay.”

“I’d just like to get something out there to you seven,” Himiko said calmly, holding one of the knives in her right hand and waving it around like it was the most casual thing in the universe. “I, am no one’s pet,”

Himiko turned and slammed the knife right between Lucifer’s middle and index fingers, imbedding it deep in the table.

“Arm candy,”

The second knife was slammed right in between Lucifer’s middle and pointer finger.

“Or accessory.”

The final knife went between his index and pinkie finger. Himiko’s next words were slow and deliberate as she stared the strongest of the brothers directly in the eyes.

“I am your friend, and equal, I won’t accept being anything less, whether it’s a joke, or not. You agreed to those terms the day we made our pact, didn’t we Lucifer? Have you changed your mind?”

It was so quiet you could hear Henry 2.0 swimming around in Levi’s room upstairs. No one dared to breathe as the seconds ticked past.

Finally, Lucifer responded, his voice tinged with exasperation. “No Himiko, I haven’t.”

“Good,” A small triumphant smile appeared on Himiko’s face as she removed the knives from the table and finished up cleaning the table. “That goes for the rest of you boys too, got it?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Mhm.”

“Yes…”

As Himiko walked into the kitchen to do everyone’s dishes, they quietly reminded themselves exactly who they were dealing with. Himiko Nanami was no dainty little human, no no no, she was the one master to rule them all, and by god was she going to make sure no one ever forgot.

——————

AAAAAAAA THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!!!! I really need to write more stuff with Himiko! Inspiration struck at like… 10 this morning and I just ran with it.

Now on one hand, I can see that people might think that Himiko overreacted to Lucifer’s little joke a tad. Buuuuuuuuuuut she’s gotta shut down that shit early, right? She doesn’t want “pet” to be the next “chihuahua”.

Lucifer’s probably trying to stick his nose back in his newspaper as he wonders whether he’s incredibly enraged or unbelievably turned on.

Hope you all enjoyed! Now back to the regularly scheduled shitposting.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #Obey me fic #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Satan #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Solomon #Obey me Luke #obey me OC

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Prompt~ hoping you'll like it ♥️

Things between the Nie brothers are not always nice and happy, they fight, just like any other pair of brothers, and sometimes things are said, sometimes these things are heavy and painful. Sometimes they're said in the wrong moment (maybe at the eve of a battle? Sunshot campaign?) and huaisang doesn't know what to do with the broken look his brother gives him before leaving the unclean realm. Because what if he doesn't return? What if the last thing he said to him was how much he hated the man he became?

Labyrinth - ao3

“But I didn’t mean to wish him away!” Nie Huaisang cried out.

“That’s really too bad,” the goblin king said, looking pleasant and humble and charming the way he always did, even in his cape of glittering gold and high-browed hat. “I wish there was something I could do for you, but the rules are the rules. You wished him away, and I took him.”

“Aren’t you supposed to only take babies?” Nie Huaisang demanded.

“Your brother’s enough of a crybaby to count, it’s close enough.”

“It is not!” Nie Huaisang wrung his hands. “You don’t understand, the last thing I said to him was that I hated him! Meng Yao, please!”

“It’s Jin Guangyao,” the goblin king corrected. His smile looked a bit strained. “Listen, do you think I’m happy about this? He’s my sworn brother! I’m only doing what I have to –”

“Oh, save it for Lan Xichen,” Nie Huaisang growled. “Show me the labyrinth already.”

“You’re going to face the labyrinth,” the goblin king said. His voice was very polite, and yet still expressed significant doubt. “You.”

“Yeah, me!”

“You remember that it goes ‘through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered’, right? Not ‘through a nice teacher and a forgiving grading system’?”

“Yeah, well, your father is a fragging aardvark. Let me at the labyrinth already!”

“You know what,” Nie Huaisang said thoughtfully. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

The life-sized animated puppet blinked at him. “You – don’t want my help?”

“Nope. I’m good.”

“You haven’t even gotten into the labyrinth yet!”

“It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t have a chance to get in,” Nie Huaisang said, patting around his sleeve and pulling out a fan. “So I’m just going to walk over and beat at the wall till something happens.”

The puppet followed him, staring blankly. Quite a change from his original apologetic ‘I’m sorry, I’m busy with my own things, I really can’t help you, also it’s too dangerous and you shouldn’t go’ response.

“You were blackmailing me to help you just a moment ago,” the puppet said after a little. “Don’t you need a guide?”

“Listen, I’m bad at memorizing things and I’m a little useless, but I’m not actually dumb,” Nie Huaisang said, fanning himself. “Jin Guangyao is a demon of the mind above all else, and the labyrinth is supposed to be ‘fair’ – which means, more than likely, that the labyrinth is a reflection of the subconscious, specially tailored to each person’s strengths and weaknesses. And that means that you, who sound exactly like Lan Xichen, are almost certainly a set-up sent by Jin Guangyao to ‘reluctantly’ aid me and then betray me.”

“Uh,” Lan Xichen-the-puppet said. “My name’s Hoggle, actually.”

“Whatever makes you feel better, er-ge…A-ha!” Nie Huaisang beamed at the gates that automatically opened. “Perfect!”

“Oh, don’t go that way,” the worm said. “Never go that way. And are you sure you don’t want to come in for a cup of tea?”

“No time,” Nie Huaisang said. “Thanks a lot – wait.”

The worm blinked at him.

“You’re a pretty attractive worm, in a slimy sort of way,” Nie Huaisang said, frowning at him.

The worm blinked again. “Why, thanks!”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Is your name Su She, by chance?”

“Definitely not!”

“Mm. Oddly vehement of you. Never mind. Just, quick, could you tell me exactly why do I not want to go that way?”

“I don’t suppose straight ahead is an option?”

The hands-faces stared at him.

“I’m just saying, I feel like most of my problems so far have come from the fact that I decided to accept the whole concept of turns. It seems like a mistake.”

“…it’s a labyrinth,” another set of the hands said. “You have to make turns!”

Nie Huaisang shook his head mournfully. “I should’ve brought Baxia or something and just – ZIP. Gone straight through. You know what I mean?”

“I’m dropping you in the oubliette regardless of your decision,” the first set of the hands said. It sounded a bit like Sect Leader Yao. “Just so you know.”

“My life is so hard,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “So hard! Do you know what it’s like to be overlooked by everyone? Do you know how hard I have to work at being this useless?”

“Drop him,” the set of hands that sounded like Sect Leader Ouyang said, and the set of hands that sounded like Sect Leader Yao said, “Yes. Now!”

Down Nie Huaisang went.

“I can take you back to the beginning of the labyrinth,” Lan Xichen offered.

“What, and waste all that time? I have a time limit, er-ge!”

“It’s better than being stuck in an oubliette. That’s where they put people to forget about them, you know.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes filled with tears. “You want to forget me, er-ge? You think I’m useless, don’t you? A good-for-nothing, who’ll never amount to anything –”

“Please don’t cry.”

“ER-GE! WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME!”

“Please stop crying!”

“So what’s the point of you?” Nie Huaisang asked the Wise Man with the Talking Hat.

“Not everyone exists to contribute to your storyline,” the Talking Hat snapped at him. “Some of us’ve got our own problems. Now hand over the candy!”

“Don’t be mean,” the Wise Man said. He had a white cloth over his eyes, and was smiling like he found the hat funny.

“Awww, but daozhang…!”

“Different plotline entirely, I guess,” Nie Huaisang decided. “Probably just here as a foil. Shall we keep going, er-ge?”

“I can’t believe you scammed me to get out of the oubliette,” Lan Xichen mumbled. “I can’t believe…”

“Oh, leave him alone, he’s just sensitive!” Nie Huaisang snapped.

“Am not!” the upside-down creature snarled, curled up on itself and trying to hide from all those that had been hitting him. Its fur was a vivid sort of purple. “Go away!”

“Don’t you have some sort of special power to help you here,” Nie Huaisang asked him as he tried to get him down before the goblins came back with weapons. “Rocks, maybe?”

“…lightning?”

“Well then get to it, will you?” Nie Huaisang frowned. “Wait. Lightning, constantly being tormented, terrible at communication, and purple? You’re Jiang Cheng, aren’t you?”

“…maybe.”

“Well then get down faster! I need to copy someone’s notes here!”

“Leave me aloooooooone!” Nie Huaisang howled, running away from the measuring snake.

“Wow,” Lan Xichen said, holding his cheek. “You kissed me.”

“You saved me from the snakes,” Nie Huaisang said. “Can we focus on how we’re in this awful stinking bog?”

“It’s not that bad!” a voice piped up. “I don’t smell anything!”

Nie Huaisang turned to stare, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course you don’t,” he said. “I bet the total absence of a sense of smell helps when you eat spicy food, Wei-xiong.”

“There’s nothing wrong with spicy food!”

“You’re short,” Nie Huaisang informed the small goblin-like creature with the big grin and the red ribbon in its hair. It looked vaguely fox-like, or possibly like certain large breeds of rabbit.

“Why you..!” Wei Wuxian crossed his furry little paws over his chest. “Just for that, I’m not going to help you.”

“Uh-huh,” Nie Huaisang said. “Really. That’s awful…oh no! A dog!”

Wei Wuxian jumped high into the air. “A dog?! Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! Save me!”

Much to Nie Huaisang’s surprise, a furry dog immediately darted out of nowhere – only Wei Wuxian didn’t seem afraid of it, but rather hid behind it, teeth chattering.

Truly, Nie Huaisang reflected, the eyes of love are blind.

“I think the ‘dog’ is gone now,” he said. “Your brave and noble Lan Wangji must’ve scared him away.”

Wei Wuxian’s head popped out from behind dog-Wangji. “Well, Lan Zhan is really cool…hey. Are you trying to manipulate me?”

“Is it working?”

“No!”

“So you won’t help me?”

“No!”

“Not even if it means you get to figure out a really tricky puzzle?”

“No – wait. A puzzle?”

“I can’t believe this is going to work,” Lan Xichen muttered from behind Nie Huaisang. “I mean, I can. But also…Wangji…I love you, but you could do so much better than this.”

“Ugh,” Nie Huaisang said. “I’m so thirsty.”

“Have some Emperor’s Smile,” Lan Xichen said, offering a jar.

“Amazing,” Nie Huaisang said, accepting it and taking a swing. “I had my doubts, you know, but you’re actually good for something after all, er-ge –”

The golden bird was Nie Huaisang’s favorite.

He’d worked so hard to bring it back to his aviary – it couldn’t be forced, he knew; it would play along at first but in the end it would turn on you and bite you. It had to be coaxed with gentleness and kindness, approached indirectly so as not to spook it, convince it that you really did mean well – that you were harmless, that it had no reason to fear you. It was arrogant, too, proud of its shining feathers and ashamed of the brown plumage of its chick days, which still remained visible on its tender underbelly. Ironically, that was Nie Huaisang’s favorite part of it, the soft and gentle part; it might not be as pretty as the gold, but it felt more genuine.

Nie Huaisang smiled as he brushed the beautiful feathers, and the golden bird allowed him. He felt cherished, treasured. So what if he had to hide all the sharp parts of himself to get this close?

It was fine. He didn’t like to be sharp.

He wanted to be soft. Soft and gentle, careless and free, relaxed and without effort, good for nothing –

Wait.

No!

“It’s all junk,” Nie Huaisang hissed at the pile of burning fans, tears in his eyes. “I want my da-ge!”

“You’re all right!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, helping pulled Nie Huaisang up.

“Huaisang-xiong,” Jiang Cheng said, looking relieved. “You’re back.”

“We have to go to the temple beyond the Goblin City,” Nie Huaisang said, teeth gritted together. “We have to. I won’t let that bastard…we’re going to go there and throw all his damned tricks right in his face!”

“Just us?” Wei Wuxian asked. “I mean, I’m awesome, Lan Zhan is fantastic, and of course Jiang Cheng is great, too, but…uh…there’s a lot of goblins in the city.”

“We’ll sneak in,” Nie Huaisang said. “He thinks he’s sidelined me entirely – he thinks I’m useless. He won’t be expecting me to get this far.”

“I can get help,” Jiang Cheng said. “I have friends.”

“…not to be rude, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said. “But – really?”

“You know what,” Nie Huaisang said, eyeing the pile of rocks following Jiang Cheng around, each one painted with a name. One of the names was yellow. Two were in white, with forehead ribbons. “This is fine. I feel like it says something really rude about my empathy for and interest in our junior generation, or lack thereof, but you know what? I don’t care. It’s fine.”

“You saved me,” Nie Huaisang said blankly, looking at Lan Xichen, who shrugged, abashed. The remains of the mechanical temple guard were scattered all over. “Over – him?”

“Huaisang –”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said, holding up his hands. “Don’t. Don’t…I don’t want to hear you talk.”

Lan Xichen’s head dropped down and he looked at the ground. “You knew from the beginning what I was like,” he murmured. “I never tried to hide it –”

“I forgive you for being what you are,” Nie Huaisang told him, and Lan Xichen looked up at him, startled and pleased. “I forgive you for not having the backbone to stand up against Jin Guangyao for me – or for da-ge. For being willfully blind for so long, for needing someone else’s proof of his ill-intentions, for always picking him first, for never trusting me…I forgive you, even if you’d never forgive me for the same.”

He dashed away the angry tears in his eyes.

“I just wish this wasn’t a fucking metaphor.”

Nie Huaisang left the fighting to the people who knew what to do – Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng, even the rock-juniors – and went to the temple at the center of the city alone.

Some things, he knew, needed to be done alone, even if it was the type of alone when you were surrounded by other people. Even when those other people stood by his side and made him promise that if he needed them, he would only need to call. Some things…

“I want my da-ge back,” he said to the maze of stairs.

“Then go and find him,” Jin Guangyao replied, looking smug, and Nie Huaisang had to go up and down all those fucking stairs, because Jin Guangyao was nothing if not predictable with his trauma, looking all over, looking for –

Looking for pieces.

“It’s just a metaphor,” he whispered to himself, ignoring how tears were streaming down his face. “It’s just – I need to put him back together, it’s fine. I’m not too late – I’m not too late –”

Jin Guangyao held Nie Mingjue’s head in his hands, blinded and gagged and bound with talismans, pulled out of whatever oubliette he'd shoved it into to forget about what he'd done. “Beware, Huaisang,” he said, still smiling. Always smiling. “I’ve been generous up until now, but I can be cruel.”

Nie Huaisang laughed, scoffing. “Generous? What have you done for me that’s generous?”

“Everything! Everything you’ve wanted, I’ve done – I cared for you, I gave you attention, I got you out of work, doing your schoolwork for you and coming up with excuses to get you out of saber training. I gave you presents, fans and pretty clothing, and when that brute of a brother of yours tried to take them from you, I rescued you. And then I even managed your sect for you, answered all of your questions, any time you had – Huaisang, I’m exhausted trying to live up to your expectations of me. Isn’t that generous?”

Nie Huaisang bared his teeth. “Half of those are burdens that only fell on me because of you. Why should it matter to me that cleaning up your own mess and satisfying your own guilt is hard? Why should I pay such a price when all I wanted was to be your friend? When all da-ge wanted was to be your friend? How dare you, Meng Yao!”

“Huaisang…” Jin Guangyao shook his head mournfully. “Huaisang, the last step here is to say the words to break the spell. But you were never good at memorization, were you?”

Nie Huaisang bit his lip until he drew blood.

“Through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered,” he said. “I have fought my way here to the temple beyond the goblin city –”

“Huaisang, stop! Look at what you’re risking here. You know how everyone loves me – do you think anyone will forgive you for taking me down, for tricking them all? You’ll be all alone!”

I already am, Nie Huaisang thought.

“My will is as strong as yours,” he said. “And my kingdom is as great…”

His voice trailed off.

“I ask for so little,” Jin Guangyao said beseechingly, convincingly, looking just like he always did, like the man who'd been their friend. “Just let me fool you, and you can have anything you want. No responsibilities, no stress, a life of your own. You can even have Lan Xichen, if that’s what you want…”

What’s the last line, Nie Huaisang thought, hating himself for being such a poor student, for cramming things into his mind without any order, for never being able to retain a single drop of it no matter how hard he tried. What is it? Why can’t I ever remember?

“It’d be so easy,” Jin Guangyao crooned. “Much easier than this. Just fear me, love me, believe me, and I’ll be your slave.”

Sharp teeth in a false smile.

Nie Huaisang shook in terror. He couldn’t – his da-ge needed him – he couldn’t be afraid, couldn’t be a coward, couldn’t be good-for-nothing – couldn’t let Jin Guangyao win – couldn’t let him –

That was it.

Nie Huaisang raised his head until his eyes met his enemy’s.

Sensing something wrong, Jin Guangyao’s eternal smile dimmed, and he began to step forward, reaching out, but it was too late.

“You have no power over me,” Nie Huaisang declared, and the world within a world collapsed.

Nie Huaisang opened his eyes.

Nie Huaisang sat in his desk in the Unclean Realm, trying to amuse himself by trying to figure out what exactly he’d eaten the night before that had given him such bizarre dreams. It was not successful, on account of him being alone.

Alone, just as he had been every night, and every day as well, since the success of his scheme at the Guanyin Temple.

Just as the dream-Jin Guangyao had threatened.

It wasn’t that Nie Huaisang regretted what he had done – the dream was clear enough about that; he’d do it all again in a heartbeat if he had to. But in the dream he’d been working alongside his former friends, with Lan Xichen betraying but then returning to him, with Wei Wuxian dragging Lan Wangji around, with stone-faced Jiang Cheng and the rather interchangeable junior squad behind him…and in his dream, in the end, they’d let him go to take his revenge, telling him that if he needed them for any reason, he could just call.

Just call, and they’d come back to him. Instead of turning from him in disgust, they’d stand by his side…

“Stupid subconscious,” Nie Huaisang mumbled to himself. “What do you expect? That I'd write to them and say ‘for no real reason at all, I find that I rather need you’?”

Silence answered him.

“Well, I do,” he said with a sigh, putting his chin on his hands. “Does that make you happy? I do need you.”

“You do?” Wei Wuxian’s voice rang out, and Nie Huaisang jumped nearly out of his skin. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Nie Huaisang turned, staring: it was Wei Wuxian at the door, the human version of him, and of course there was Lan Wangji right before him, and Jiang Cheng, and the (still mostly interchangeable) juniors, and – and even Lan Xichen, who Nie Huaisang was sure had gone into seclusion with no intent to leave.

“What are you doing here?” Nie Huaisang squeaked. And why hadn’t any of his sect disciples warned him?

“We just bullied our way though the door before anyone could stop us,” Wei Wuxian said cheerfully, answering the unspoken question first. “As for the rest – it turns out that I had the strangest dream the other night, really, truly bizarre, and obviously I had to tell Lan Zhan all about it, except it turned out he had a strange dream too.”

Nie Huaisang’s jaw dropped. “But –”

“I felt da-ge’s qi woven into the labyrinth,” Lan Xichen said quietly. “I thought it’d have long ago dissipated or been locked away, but – it was there, in every stone, in every turn. Every obstacle that didn’t really hurt you, every goblin that was more silly than scary…he was there. It was unmistakable.”

Nie Huaisang swallowed. The story of the labyrinth, baby-stealing wish-granting goblin king and all, had been one that Nie Mingjue had told him as a bedtime story, when he'd been a child in need of comfort; he hadn’t thought of it in years before last night. “But…why…?”

“Because Chifeng-zun has a demented sense of humor?” Jiang Cheng suggested, looking irritated.

“Jiujiu means that he hasn’t had that much fun in years, and also that you should throw a party,” Jin Ling said. “You are hosting all three of the sect leaders of all the other Great Sects. Also, why were we rocks?”

“Uh, no idea,” Nie Huaisang said. “Da-ge’s weird sense of humor, no doubt! Anyway, did you say party? I can do a party!”

He rushed out of the room, calling for his servants, calling for them to bring food and wine and tea, and as he did, he looked out of the window – a golden bird was flying away, looking hunted as if something was chasing it, and even as he watched, it crossed the borders of the Unclean Realm and suddenly dissolved into a fizzle of golden dust.

Nie Huaisang put his hand on the stone wall, and felt a familiar echo.

A very familiar echo.

“Oh,” he said, to his servants, feeling somehow simultaneously sheepish and filled with joy. “And while you’re at it, can you bring me my saber? I seem to have – misplaced it…”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #lan xichen #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #lan wangji #su she #sect leader yao #sect leader ouyang #xiao xingchen #xue yang #my fic #my fics #labyrinth

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teasty · 3 years

Text

irresistible || h.hj (m)

a/n: yess fuck boy hyunjin ftw ngl,,,,i’m so in love with that idea,, especially with his long hair (i actually got into skz cuz of hyunjin’s hair lol i love longish hair on men)

● pairing: hwang hyunjin x (fem) reader

● genre: angsty n smutty (mdi!) | crack lol | enemies to lovers!au | college!au | nonidol!au

�� requested? yes!

● words: 9k

● summary: You despise Hwang Hyunjin with a passion. And he just hates you right back. You’re a good, moral student while he fucks around with everybody. He likes to pull at heartstrings while you like to pull at his palm tree hairdo. There’s nothing that makes you like the other, but when you wind up at the old art room with him and things get heated up, you see a softer, truer and more broken side to him.

Is falling in love with someone you've hated for years in the span of one night even possible? Apparently so...

i miss him so much don't @ me

“You’re too irresistible not to fuck until you're screaming my name and begging for more.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Hyunjin, or I’ll tear your stupid hair out of your head,” you threaten darkly. The ever so proud Hyunjin only scoffs, laughing mockingly at you as he shoves his hands into his pockets. He crouched down to be at eye level with you. Despite you being much smaller than him, you still stood your group, even tripped over on the floor, your once organized papers sprawled out on the floor.

“I’d like to see you try, princess,” Hyunjin’s brow raises, and your lips downturn into even more of a frown. You would never, ever dare to start a physical fight with Hyunjin, but boy you can talk. Sometimes, your mouth might even be a little bit too big for your own liking. The words just flow out so naturally, and you don’t even realize it to actually stop it from flowing off of your tongue.

It was your dumb mouth that started this whole mess, anyways. Back in the last few years of high school, your best friend (who, in the end, turned out to be the fakest bitch you’ve ever met) had gotten with a boy. A boy you had no clue even went to the school. And, that’s when you met Hwang Hyunjin at lunch that day. In all his short - haired glory. At first, he seemed pretty decent, but you knew something was off about him from the start. Sure, he had a bright smile that could make any girl with a brain filled with boys faint, but he just didn’t sit too right with you. The way he acted around your friend (at the time) and the way he’d talk to her and other girls.

At first, you didn’t think he was a fuckboy, but it was when he tried to get in your pants after you called him a fuckboy after school one day when it hit you. That was the first and only day you really punched him in the face. Giving him a black and blue bruise on his cheekbone from the impact when he tried to take your clothes off, not caring whether or not you said it was alright or not. Of course, he got mad at you, but didn’t lay a hand on you, like you thought he would. You remember bracing your body for some sort of punch, kick or push, but nothing came other than Hyunjin’s loud voice screaming curses at you and calling you all - too vulgar and hurtful names.

You would have apologized if you weren’t so upset with the fact that he tried to be your first fuck. Your virginity isn’t the most precious thing to you, but you promised yourself you wouldn’t allow yourself to lose it to Hwang Hyunjin. Especially not after that day he actually tried to fuck you behind the school. You went running to your friend afterwards. Who, to your surprise, got mad at you for trying to make her boyfriend cheat on her with you. You couldn’t believe her, and you dropped her right there.

It was actually Hyunjin who broke up with her, having her come running to you with tears in her eyes about how upset she is that Hyunjin broke up with her. Of course, you didn’t react and only ignored her for… the rest of her life so far. She eventually gave up on trying to be friends with you, and went her own direction. However, Hyunjin didn’t leave you alone.

You can swear that he’s vowed to make your life living hell after you rejected him with your fist. At first, it was just teasing. Calling you names. Making fun of stupid mistakes. Sometimes even flirting with you just to make you mad. And no matter how many times you seemed to reject, verbally or physically, he never gave. Maybe he doesn’t try to get in your pants anymore, but he won’t stop calling you stupid nicknames when he’s being a dick to you… like “princess, baby, babygirl, darling, honey, sweetheart.” Stupid, meaningless nicknames to call you just to pull at both your heartstrings and your thin line of patience.

You weren’t so friendly to call him bittersweet names like that. You decided to go with a more aggressive route of, “dickhead, motherfucker, bitch, asshole, asshat, shithead” and other conjugations of any curse word you could think of. Of course, none of it fazed him one bit. In fact, it all seemed to amuse him. Like your anger was his entertainment, and that idea pissed you off.

You’ve had friends tell you to “Just not give him the attention since that’s what he wants!” But, that was the most difficult thing to do when Hyunjin was always following behind you, yet always a step ahead. Everywhere you end up, he’s somehow ironically there, too. Everywhere you plan to go, he’s somehow, ironically, planning to go there, too. Sometimes you debate if he’s stalking, but you don’t have much social media (nor do you post anything if you did) and you made sure to always keep away from the name Hyunjin just in case it’s the Hyunjin.

But, now, you’re sitting on your ass like an idiot, papers flown around you as Hyunjin crouches down in front of you. Almost as if peering down at his prey. His judgemental eyes scan your trembling figure, shaking from the pent up anger, up and down as he smirks like the little devil he is.

You’d been running back to your classroom, having to collect papers for your professor from the teacher’s lounge. She specifically asked for them to be organized by date, and you spent a few well - focused and frustrating minutes organizing the papers. Of course, as you were running through the supposedly empty hall, looking down at your phone to check the time to make sure you’ll have enough time before the end of the class period, you slammed face first into Hyunjin’s chest. Knocking him off of his balance, but catching himself on the wall, and sending you flying back and the papers to fly out of your arms, all your hard work scattered around you as you glare up at him with a deadly look in your eyes.

“Oh…” Hyunjin smiles down at you, leaning against the wall. His brows creasing up in a fake worry, his bottom lip jutting out in a mocking pout, staining his handsome face with the pathetic expression, “Poor baby… Do you need help picking up your papers?” He asks in a high pitched voice, and you try to hold back the urge to kick him right in the balls.

“Don’t fuck with me, Hyunjin,” you growl out darkly, and Hyunjin’s eyes widen and his fake, bitter smile widens in a pathetic imitation of shock and hurt, “Or I’ll tear your stupid hair out of your head.” You shamelessly threaten, both of you knowing you’re probably not going to even try to rip Hyunjin’s gorgeous hair for his scalp.

Hyunjin gets up off of the wall and walks over to you, you sitting on your ass with a glare that could spew daggers, and he crouches in front of you. His elbows on his knees, and he peers down at you like a predator stalking over its prey, ready to pounce at any second. He scans you, his half lidded, judgemental eyes peering over your body, heavily hidden by your black leggings and dark blue hoodie that was two sizes too big.

“I’d like to see you try, princess,” Hyunjin cocks a brow at you, his eyes finally landing on your dark ones.

“Don’t call me that, dickhead,” you spit right back, but he only chuckles darkly, his head falling briefly before he lifts his head up again. Shaking it slightly as he critically smiles at you, his mocking laugh making you feel small and weak.

“That’s a no - can - do. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, alright? Princess?” Hyunjin’s face dips down, nearing yours. You do the first thing you think of, grabbing a handful of papers, wrinkling them and throwing them with full force at Hyunjin’s face. He flinches back and stands up, swatting away the papers quickly. “Fucking hell! You scared me for a second there.”

“Good, now piss off. I have places to be. And shouldn’t you be in class?” You grumble as you collect the papers, trying your best to get them as organized as possible in your arms, making sure to keep a tight grip on them in case Hyunjin tried to do anything.

“Aw, do you suddenly care for me?” He places a hand over his chest, sighing dramatically, “I’m touched.”

“In your dreams, dipshit. Leave me alone,” you snap out, already getting a headache from this as you walk around on your knees to try and collect the papers, cursing to yourself when you find a wrinkled one, trying to smooth it out. Hyunjin watches you with a stoic expression, leaning against the wall. You don’t even bother saying another thing to him before you gather up the last of the papers and dash away, trying to organize the papers best you could before you reach your class.

Thankfully, Hyunjin didn’t follow you like he usually did. You let out a breath of air you didn’t know you were holding as you neared the classroom, your hands moving quickly to organise the papers. You open the door, somewhat out of breath as you hand them to the professor. Letting her know that you dropped them on your way here and they got a bit disorganized, but you tried your best to organize them again. She dismissed you and thanked you, sending you back to your seat to pack up (since it’s the end of the class, which is why you were hurrying).

Thankfully, your last class period is a study hall, so you take this time to run down to the library to work on assignments that are due soon. You prefer the library since it’s a calm and quiet place, and you know the librarian quite well, since you’re usually there during study hall. If you’re not there, you’re somewhere with a friend, and that’s usually not in the comfort of the library since you get pretty loud and unfiltered when you’re with friends. So, in the end, you’ll get booted out by the librarian.

When you get there, there’s already quite a few students sitting around, listening to music and typing vigorously on their laptops. You bow briefly to the librarian, who gives you a warm smile before you take a seat at a table in the corner of the library, far from the others. You take out your laptop and phone, plugging your earbuds into the earphone jack in your phone to play music into your ears.

You spend a good fifteen minutes writing an essay for your English Literature class. Focused in on the task at hand while soft lofi flows into your ears, letting your mind relax, but focus on what you’re doing.

So, it’s totally normal that you let out a short scream when your earbuds are painfully ripped out of your ears, your hands flying up to cup your ears. People glare at you, but turn back when they see who’s looming over your desk. Your earbuds and phone in his hand, and you could faintly hear the sound of the lofi that once calmed your mind. He stood there with a proud smile, and he raised a finger to his lips.

“Shh… quiet in the library,” Hyunjin says just above a whisper, and your lip twitches from holding back from strangling him in front of everyone. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? He’s always made a note to let you know how annoying you can be or how much he hates you, so why doesn’t he just leave you alone? He knows how much he upsets you, but it seems to make him happy. He already wears a stupid smile all the time. You’ve seen him upset before, plenty of times. But when he’s teasing you or doing things to make you miserable, he wears that same devilish smirk.

“I… Fuck you, Hwang Hyunjin. Give me my phone back.” You stand up, reaching for the phone, but his hand yanks back away from you. Giving you a sarcastic smile as he looks down at you.

“Beg for it,” Hyunjin giggles darkly. Looking at something on your phone and even pressing a few buttons. Your eyes widen.

“Fuck no, just give it back!” You whisper - yell, reaching for it again, leaning over the table to grab for it.

Hyunjin shakes his head, “I said to beg for it…~” he sings - songs in a hushed tone, and your hands tense, his neck lookingly plenty good to just strangle. You don’t say anything, and you fold your arms over your chest. Raising a brow at you. “You think that’s gonna change my mind, hon? I still want you to beg for it.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn, it’s annoying,” you grumble, and shut your laptop close and push it into your backpack. You start walking out, shoving past Hyunjin and fighting against frustrated tears. You don’t even bother to bow to the librarian as you walk out, on fist gripping the sleeve of your backpack and the other clenched tightly at your side.

You walk out of the library, into the court of the university. There’s not many people there, since it’s the last class period of the day and everyone was getting ready to go home for the weekend. You stood underneath a tree, and turned, cocking a brow at Hyunjin who followed behind you slowly. You frown at him, and his brow raises.

“So? You’re gonna get ‘em or no? You know I’m not giving them if you just frown at me, (Y/N),” Hyunjin smiles snarkily, and you visibly roll your eyes at him. You sigh softly.

“Hyunjin. Give them to me. I’m being serious, now, no fuckin’ around,” You hold your hand out, finally speaking in a normal, harsh tone now that you’re out of the library.

“Hm… Nah. You still have to beg for it like a bitch. Or else they’re mine,” Hyunjin gives you a pitifully fake smile, and your eyes close, trying to ease the rising rage inside you.

“Hyunjin. I’m not begging for it,” You take a step closer to him, but he doesn’t back down. Your headphones still clutch in his hand as he holds them away from you. When Hyunjin doesn’t respond, you finally act. Dropping your backpack and letting it slip off your shoulder and onto the grass, propping itself against the tree. Hyunjin’s smile finally drops when you grip his wrist, pulling it towards you harshly. But, on instinct, Hyunjin pulls himself away, pulling you towards him.

So, you push him down onto the grass, not caring for onlookers as you straddle Hyunjin’s waist before he could even try getting up. One of your hands reaches up to press against his chest, but Hyunjin doesn’t struggle. Not one bit. In fact, he doesn’t even smirk anymore. He’s just staring at you as you reach for his hand.

“(Y/N),” Hyunjin’s dark voice pipes up, and you shoot him a glare.

“Shut up,” you snap, and you pry open his fingers, which was much easier than you though. His hands are hot and sweaty, and you almost laugh at it. Is he nervous that you’re straddling him let alone touching him in the first place? You will admit, it’s an intimate position, but you only got on top of him like that to prevent him from moving so you could grab your earbuds and phone out of his hands and stuff them into your pocket.

You smirk down at him, your hair falling past your face. It feels good to be the one in control, and now that Hyunjin’s vulnerable, you utter out, “And you almost got me to beg. Boohoo. Better luck next time, dipshit.” You finally get off of him, and the moment you’re off of him, he gets up and dusts himself off.

“(Y/N),” He calls out your name as he watches you grab your backpack.

“Shut up and don’t talk to me,” You snap, and Hyunjin’s lip clamp shut. He looks conflicted, and you would feel bad if it weren’t Hyunjin. The same Hwang Hyunjin who’s decided to make your every day a living headache.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch me like that again,” Hyunjin’s hand snatches your wrist, but you pull yourself away swiftly, “If you do that ever, and I mean ever again, I will not hesitate to stuff your face in the dirt.” Hyunjin gets dangerously close to you, and you back away. You’re brows creasing. Sure, Hyunjin is a huge dick to you, but he’s not this much of a dick. So, it took you by surprise, but you felt proud. It’s obvious that forcing Hyunjin into such a vulnerable position both mentally and physically set him off, and you were proud of yourself for that. He’s always been the one trapping you, making you feel small and tugging at your strings of patience, and sometimes your heartstrings, too.

“Oh, fuck off, Hyunjin.” You groan out, your hands falling to your side as you sling your backpack over your shoulder, “You do that shit to me all the time. What’s it if I do it to you?”

“Just don’t do it a - fuckin’ - gain, (Y/N). Don’t, unless you don’t wanna walk straight the next day.” Hyunjin threatens, and your brows furrow.

“And what the fuck does that mean?” You scoff as Hyunjin shakes his head, turning to walk away. “Hyunjin!” You yell after him, but he thrusts up his hand, his slim middle finger in your direction. You scoff, surprised by such behavior from a guy like him, who’s usually the one doing the teasing instead of the flipping off.

You try your best to ignore him and head back to the dorm to your shared one with your friend. You were able to settle down for a bit, especially since your roommate wasn’t there yet. You finished up your work. Working on assignments that you couldn’t get to finish because of a certain someone who decided to snag your phone.

Speaking of your phone, about two hours after you get back to the dorm, your friend comes walking in.

“Hey Yeona,” You pipe up, acknowledging her presence as she peels off her flats from her feet. Yeona waves briefly before plopping on her bed.

“Hey (Y/N). How was it going today?”

“Terrible.” You admit, Hyunjin being the only thing coursing through your head.

“Terrible? Lemme guess,” Yeona sits up, glaring at you, “it’s that one Hwang guy you keep ranting about?” You nod slowly, “Ah. Well, sorry about that. Actually, that reminds me. Someone was asking for you. A boy… A really, really cute boy.”

“Oh? Who?” Your brow raises.

Yeona shrugs, “No clue. Couldn’t catch his name; he seemed like he was in a rush. He wants you to meet him in the old art room. The one they use for storage, you know? He said to take your time, but he seemed desperate as hell.”

“The old art room? Don’t people go there to fuck because the camera’s are busted at the school’s too lazy to replace ‘em?” your brow raises, a bitter smile etching your lip.

“That’s the one. Hey, you might get some dick tonight. At least he’s cute,” she wiggles her brows, and you laugh. “Go one. Call me if anything happens.”

“Yes, ma’am,” You jokingly salute, and Yeona does it right back. You stuff your phone in your back pocket, and give her a playful smile before you leave.

The old art room is at the very core of the school, and you know exactly where it is. Everybody does. It’s not exactly something that just goes unnoticed by the students. Since it’s old, the camera’s are very much out of date and therefore can’t hook up to the ‘new and improved’ security system. Usually people snuck there to fuck during passing hall, since no teacher went in there. Only special people on special occasions use it for storage.

You were somewhat excited. You still have your v - card, whether you like it or not. You originally planned to save it for someone special. But, at this point, you’re too stressed to care about who’s taking your virginity and who’s not. At this point, you’d get on your knees for anyone willing.

Except for Hwang Hyunjin. Of fucking course. You know so many people who would literally beg to be fucked by none other than Hwang Hyunjin. You were not one of those people. You weren’t one of Hyunjin’s toys, even though he treated you like one. You would never let him get to your head, though. You know that you shouldn’t listen to Hyunjin even if your life depended on it. He might mean those things, those vulgar things he says to you, but you choose not to believe them.

You were trembling by the time we were standing in front of the old art room. The rusty door is slightly ajar, signifying that someone’s inside. Of course there is, but it’s still weird that they didn’t shut the door in case any teacher got concerned and checked in. Whoever’s inside must be stupid, but you’re not one to ghost someone like that, especially if Yeona said that they seemed desperate. Someone desperate for you? You had no clue who. No one ever stared at you in class. No one ever teased you. Tried to constantly get your attention.

Actually, that’s a lie. That’s a bitter lie.

Hwang Hyunjin fit into every aspect of someone who’d be desperate for your attention. That’s when it hit you that Hyunjin’s only trying to gain your attention in the worst way.

And, he did. Because he’s standing right in front of you.

You turned to leave, but Hyunjin’s hand slammed against the closed door, making you flinch at the close proximity between the two of you, and you turned to look at Hyunjin. He’s not smiling like he usually is when he first sees you. In fact, you can’t tell what expression laces his godly face.

“Hyunjin? Was it you that told my friend to bring me here?” You ask, not so much a harsh tone, but trying to make things clear despite the answer being (literally) right in front of your face. There’s no one else in the old art room but empty boxes, old art tables and storage boxes littered here and there. “This isn’t funny, Hyunjin. I’m leaving.” You turn back around to grip the doorknob, but Hyunjin’s warm, shaking hand grips your wrist firmly, yet oddly gently.

“Don’t,” he utters out. His voice was strangely small. Nimble, even. Weak. “Don’t go. I need to talk to you.”

“Since when do you wanna talk to me?” You snap, and Hyunjin dodges your intense glare. His confidence seeps to be depleting by the minute.

“I just need to. I need to get things figured out,” Hyunjin grumbles out, letting go of your wrist. He steps away from you and sits on one of the old art tables, manspreading, stretching the tight fabric of his jeans.

“Get what figured out? Tell me,” you demand, now stepping away from the door and sitting across from Hyunjin on another table. Before Hyunjin could speak, though, you raise a hand, a thought coming to mind, “Wait, no. Why did you not just come to my dorm like a normal person? Why the art room? Do you know how many people have fucked in here, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, sighing softly, “Yes, I do. It’s just the only place we could truly be alone.”

“Wait… you’re not gonna do what I think you're gonna do, right?” You back up, reaching for your phone.

Hyunjin shakes his head, “No, I’m not. I’m not a stupid sixteen year old anymore, (Y/N). And neither are you.” You sigh, relaxing, “I’m just going to get straight to the point. I can’t take this anymore, (Y/N). I’m so lost without you.”

Your eyes snap up to meet his, looking for any sign of mischief or joke in his eyes. But, no. Instead, they’re genuine. Your brows furrow, confusion crashing over you.

“I don’t want to live with the thought that I make every day for you living hell,” Hyunjin looks away, ashamed.

“Then why do you taunt me in the first place?” You nearly yell, and Hyunjin’s eyes flicker closed. You get off of the table, standing in front of him, “Why do you work so hard to just get me pissed off for the rest of the day, huh? Why do you want my attention so bad? Why can’t you just leave me alone, then, if you don’t want to make my college life a living hell, huh?”

“Because I’m in love with you.”

So blunt. So stoic. So true.

You’re silenced by his words, shock overcoming you. Overwhelmingly dominating your anger as your eyes widen slowly. He doesn’t break eye contact, this time. He doesn’t bother looking away. He’s standing his ground. He’s telling the truth.

You shake your head, “No your not.”

“You don’t decide that,” Hyunjin says almost directly after your voice drifts off.

“You can’t be in love with me, Hyunjin. You can’t,” You shake your head, backing away.

“It’s not my fault!” Hyunjin finally raises his voice, getting off of the table and taking an intimidating step towards you. Making you falter and scramble back, your lower back hitting the old art table. “I can’t help it. I can’t help, (Y/N). I’ve tried everything. I’ve been with so many girls, even guys. Trying to get out of my mind but nothing, nothing works. It’s always been you. Ever since high school.”

“Even when you were dating her…?”

“Even when I was dating her. The only reason I dated your fucking friend was to try and get close to you,” Hyunjin admits, and your mouth falls open. You lost a friend just because he wanted to get close to you? Your anger was slowly gaining back it’s superiority over your shock, “I tried to talk to you, but every time I did it just came out as mean. You viewed me as a fuckboy, and I fulfilled that role. Only to try and get you out of my fucking head.” He spits out through gritted teeth. “I’ve tried to make myself hate you, despise you. And, don’t get me wrong, hon, a small part of me hates you’re short, annoying ass. But everything else is incomplete without you.”

“Why didn’t you just confront me? If you didn’t decide to date my friend then we wouldn’t be here right now!” You yell, pressing a finger to his chest.

“I was sixteen, (Y/N)! Sixteen. Everything that I did ended in my misfortune,” Hyunjin yells right back.

“And was that my fault? Huh?”

“Yes! It is! Yes, it fuckin’ is!”

“How in the fuck is it ever my fault with you?!” You shove him away.

“Because it was. All. For. You. Get that through your thick fucking skull!” Hyunjin yells so loudly, so aggressively that it brought you to tears. But, you didn’t show any sign of fear. You weren’t backing down from this.

After his yelling, things quieted. You’re too nervous to talk, afraid your voice would pathetically crack from the painful lump growing in your throat. Hyunjin stared at you, as if waiting for you to say something, anything. But, you couldn’t utter a word. Only a few pathetic tears slipping from your eyes. His brows crease up when he watches the quick, warm tears fall over your cheek and down your neck. His bottom lip becomes trapped between his teeth, and he looks down for a bit.

You’re tired of the silence. You simply can’t take it anymore. It’s driving you mad how tense and uncomfortable the silence between you and Hyunjin is.

“Hyunjin, I-“

You’re not able to finish before a pair of soft lips press themselves to yours. Your mind goes blank, and your body stiffens as you stare into Hyunjin’s closed eyes. Your hands gripping the table behind you for balance as Hyunjin’s trembling hands creep up to grip your face. He’s kissing you.

Hwang fucking Hyunjin is kissing you.

That’s a first.

You want to push him away, but no matter how much you tell yourself to, you only relax more and more. The feeling of his lips against yours was supposed to repulse you, give you the push you need to slam a fist into Hyunjin’s face. But, with how delicately he kisses you and how his gentle, trembling fingers caress your warm cheeks, you can’t bear even clenching your fist in the need to hurt him or to get him away from you.

You couldn’t bear to admit it, but you were slowly melting into the kiss. It was as though Hyunjin was casting some sort of spell on you. Your eyes relax. Going from a dim half - lidded until they flutter shut. Your hands let go of the table. You’re shaking, ever so slightly. Your hands guide themselves as they bring themselves up to press against Hyunjin’s collarbone. At first, you believe you’re trying to push him away. But, your own hands deceive you when they slowly trail up to run your hands through his long grown hair.

You finally let your lips move, and you finally kiss him back.

Hyunjin’s reaction to it is one to die for. His back stiffens when he feels your lips part and move with his. One of his hands moves to caress your jaw, his thumb running across the bone, his hands a bit more firm as the kiss gets passionate.

You want to hate yourself for kissing him back. For succumbing to him and letting yourself fall weak underneath him. But, you just couldn’t help yourself. Hyunjin’s lips pulled you in and didn’t seem to plan on letting you go anytime soon.

It seems like a flash when your tongue presses flush against Hyunjin’s. The feelings send your back stiff and you tightly grip his hair, as if you were going to break apart from the feeling. Hyunjin’s experienced lips guided your inexperienced ones, despite him obviously being nervous.

You try to breath through your nose like Hyunjin does when things start getting more and more intense, and Hyunjin’s hands slowly start to creep away from your face. Tongues clash, and instead of fighting for dominance over one another, you both move in sync. Your torso pressed against his as Hyunjin traps you in between him and the table.

One of Hyunjin’s hands falls down your arm, gently caressing your side before picking up your thigh to push you to sit on the table. He pushes you back.

“Hyunjin - ah… We can’t…” You mumble out breathily as he kisses the sides of your lips. His lips instantly connect back with yours.

“And here… I thought… you were standing so strong and proud,” Hyunjin chuckles darkly, whispering out the words in between wet kisses. His usual self coming back, and your brows furrow. “But… no. You’re letting me… do this… without fight.”

Your head cranes back as Hyunjin’s lips drag down to your neck. Licking wet strips up and down your neck, suckling on the sensitive skin and pressing wet, sloppy kisses to your skin. You bite back a moan.

“You said you wouldn’t do anything…” You whimper out, and Hyunjin chuckles against your neck.

“Maybe, but you’ve passed the point of no return when you kissed back. And here I thought you’d punch me in the face,” Hyunjin laughs against your skin, moving you so your legs are spread for him to press more and more against you.

“Maybe I should’ve,” you whisper out in one breath.

“Mmh, but you know you like it, baby,” Hyunjin smirks.

“What happened to you wanting to talk?” You breath out, your breath moans getting louder, and you bite your lip to hold your voice back.

“You ruined it,” Hyunjin grumbles, nibbling on your skin briefly.

“Fuck you…” you grumble, your arms wrapping around his neck unconsciously.

“Already, hmm? Impatient, are we?”

“Fuck off…!” You groan at his dumb joke, and Hyunjin laughs against you. “But… seriously, Hyunjin… Wait… I’m still a virgin.”

Hyunjin’s head snaps up, his brows furrowed. “You’re a what, again?”

“A virgin, dumbass.”

“Are you saying you want to have sex-..”

“Hyunjin! Don’t take this so lightly. I’ve never done it with anyone before, and I definitely wasn’t planning on someone like you being my first,” you admit, and Hyunjin cocks a brow at you.

“You’ll regret those words. I’ll make sure this is a night for you to remember,” Hyunjin snaps, his words dark, and you swallow. “But, I need you to let me know that you want me, too.”

“Goddamn it, Hyunjin,” you groan, and your hand grips a lock of his hair, pulling his back so he can look clearly at you, “I want you to fuck me, Hyun - ah…”

A smirk creeps up on his lips, and you watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows his spit, and you let go of his hair, and his head dives back into your neck. Not exactly going back to kissing you, but resting his lips there. He mumbles out, “I never thought I’d hear those words come out of your pretty mouth.” And neither did you. You tried to deny it, telling yourself that it’s a spur of the moment idea. But, right now, again, you can’t push Hyunjin away. Your body won't let you.

Fuck it, your mind screams, and you let your legs wrap around Hyunjin’s waist. His hands find themselves caressing your thighs, your waist and back as his lips start moving again over your neck. The sensation sending constant chills up and down your spine, causing your back to stiffen and arch at the new feeling erupting in your core. You’ve masturbated before, that’s not the issue. But, being in the control of somebody gave you a whole new stimulation with even having to be touched too much. A new spark of intensity.

Hyunjin’s hands are rough, yet cautious. Trying not to go too far, but obviously trying not to pull away himself.

He eventually pushed your shoulders lightly, but with enough force to push your back flat against the old art table. He’s still standing, but he’s leaning over you, his hands on either side of your head and his pelvis nearly pressed against yours, standing in between your legs.

His warm hands move slowly underneath your shirt. Your back lifts at the feeling of his hands meeting your untouched skin, and you let out a hoarse breath as Hyunjin sucks on the skin below your jaw. Your head tilting to the side to give him the access he needed. Your neck craning, and your eyes flutter shut from the bliss. Your lips parting in a silent moan. Too embarrassed to actually make too much noise. Hyunjin’s hands move up the sides of your bare waist, carrying your shirt and hoodie with it. He parts from your neck to look up at you, his hands coming to a sudden halt.

You only glare over to him before you take your shirt and hoodie yourself, peeling it quickly off and over your head and tossing them to the side, trying to make it onto another table, but it landed on the floor. You could care less. Hyunjin’s eyes immediately dart down to stare at your semi - exposed torso. You bite your bottom as Hyunjin’s hand eases up, poking at the wire of your cherry pink bra. “Pink? Cute.”

“Shut up,” you mumble out, and Hyunjin’s eyes flicker up to meet yours.

“Hmm, that’s not gonna happen and you know that.” Hyunjin winks at you, and you roll your eyes before your head falls back again. Hyunjin’s wet lips come back to your neck, but this time, he starts pressing slow, wet kisses down your neck. Over your collarbone and chest before over the bump of your breasts. You watch him with nervous eyes as Hyunjin presses wet kisses over the skin of your breasts. The feeling of the sensitive, untouched skin being no longer untouched is euphoric. However, he doesn’t take off your bra, most likely since you’re in the old art room and being completely nude would be a bit too overbearing and overwhelming for both of your likings.

You thought Hyunjin was going to stop there, but no. He kept on kissing down, now going over your stomach. Your heartbeat got louder and louder as he kept going down. His warm mouth pressing warm kisses to you before moving down, the area before being shadowed by the cold air.

Your breath got caught in your throat when Hyunjin’s fingers loop around the loose hem of your jeans. His eyes darting up to look at you briefly. But, this time, he doesn’t wait for you to take them off. One finger undoes the first button before he swiftly moves out of the way to pull them down. Your legs try to clamp shut, but Hyunjin’s knee jerks up, stopping them from closing. Your panties don’t match your bra, since they’re black and not as fancy. However, Hyunjin doesn’t seem to care at all.

Your pink face watches as Hyunjin tosses your jeans to the side, with the rest of your clothes.

“Hyunjin - ah…” You utter out, and Hyunjin’s eyes flicker up to meet yours, one brow raising in question.

“I’m going to eat you out,” Hyunjin gives you a sarcastic smile, and you don’t have the willpower to roll your eyes. Your pussy is already sopping wet, and you hold back the urge to throw yourself on top of him. You’re not surprised by how blunt he is, but it’s still nerve wracking for you. “Don’t be scared. You’ll be perfectly fine.” He reassures, and you know you’re fine. That you’re safe, but, as said before, you were so nervous.

You watch as Hyunjin dips between your legs, getting on his knees on the floor, perfectly level with you. He looks from your wet panties to you for a moment before he presses a firm kiss to your clothed cunt. Your hips jut up from the sensitivity of it, your legs trying to clamp shut, but Hyunjin’s hand is quicker. His hand flush against your thigh. He smirks against you, pressing another feather light kiss to your clothes pussy once more before he licks up it, firmly pressing his tongue against you, sending your hand to your mouth to hide your choked moans.

However, Hyunjin’s hand flies up to pull your arm down, grumbling out, “Don’t be fucking quiet this time, (Y/N).”

“We’re in a fucking classroom, Hyunjin, I have to be!” You let out a throaty groan as Hyunjin licks another long, slow strip over your panties.

“All the teachers are gone. God, relax,” Hyunjin laughs bitterly, and you shoot him a confused look.

“You planned this didn’t you?” You snarl, propping yourself, and Hyunjin cocks a brow, his long fingers hooking around the hem of your pantines. You tried to close your legs, but they’re blocked by Hyunjin’s hands. Hyunjin only shoots you glare before pulling down your panties, and you gasp when your sopping pussy meets the cold air of the old art room.

“Ha,” Hyunjin scoffs, one of his fingers moving up to grace itself over the smooth, all too stimulative and sensitive skin around you, making your hips jutter, “No matter how mad you try to make yourself, you’re still dripping wet like a bitch in heat. Didn’t know I turned you on so much, sweetheart.”

“I’ll kill you,” you snap, but your hand goes to grip the edge of the table.

“You’ll love me after this,” Hyunjin winks at you again.

“I doubt it,” you backfire, and Hyunjin’s brow raises. A challenging smile on his face as his lips near your throbbing womanhood. So close, you could feel his breath fanning you. Hyunjin holds eye contact with you as his lips make contact with your warm, wet cunt. Your head falls back when you feel Hyunjin’s tongue against your clit. You let out a breathy moan and your hand flies down to tug at Hyunjin’s hair.

Hyunjin doesn’t go slow. He’s already teasing your hole with his middle finger as he licks and suckes around your pussy. His lips and tongue working wonders no toy you’ve ever owned ever could. The explicit sounds he makes turn you on even more, his eyes fluttering shut to focus on his mouth’s movement more than your face, which is tilted back. Your back arches from the pleasure, and you let out delicate moans as Hyunjin’s lips satisfy your throbbing pussy, giving it the attention it’s been craving.

Hyunjin slowly eases one finger into you, and your hips buck onto it. Hyunjin chuckles against you at your movement and raises a hand to press against your gut, pushing you down and holding you there as he lapped up your flowing juices while his finger inserts inside you. His knuckles soon flush against you, slowly twisting his hand inside you as you push yourself against him. Chills running through your body as Hyunjin’s tongue presses against your sensitive clit.

“Oh, god, Hyunjin…!” You moan out when he presses another finger into you. Your eyes squeezing shut as your trembling hands grip Hyunjin’s hair, your legs resting over his shoulders as he begins to thrust his fingers into you at a decently fast pace. His long fingers penetrate your tight, virgin hole. Pumping them in and out quickly, and you clench around him.

Your hands that grip Hyunjin’s hair pulls him further towards you, trying to get more and more of his tongue on you. Your hips grinding down on his fingers as your mind fogs from the pleasure. Now, you don’t care that it’s Hwang Hyunjin, you’re just loving the pleasure he’s providing you. You neck cranes, almost as if trying to pull away from how sensitive you were and how Hyunjin was abusing that.

However, when he enters a third finger, stretching you out, you feel your orgasm nearing. You clench around his fingers, your moans getting louder. Now, the thought of a teacher overhearing your explicit moans clearing from your head, your mind relaxing on the thought. All you can think of is how high you’re getting from the pleasure.

“Hyunjin… Hyunjin, I’m gonna cum soon… Hyunjin - ah, mmh,” one hand reaching up, the back of your hand pressing against your lips. Hyunjin doesn’t slow down. His hands move faster, and his mouth sucks at your clit. Your back begins to arch, your climax dangerously close.

But, it doesn’t come.

Hyunjin’s hands pull out of your pussy and he stands up when your back twitches, about to throw itself up when your climax hits. You look at Hyunjin with wide, glossy eyes. Sweat dripping down your forehead. Your legs twitch from the lost orgasm.

“What the fuck, Hyunjin?” You snap, and Hyunjin wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, giving you a raised brow and a smirk.

“You don’t get to cum, yet,” Hyunjin climbs over you again, trapping you down underneath his arms as he pushes himself in between your legs, and you could feel how hard he was just by a small brush of his bulge against your thigh. “Now, be good for me and take my cock like a good slut.” Your back stiffens from the vulgar slur, but it only makes your oversensitive pussy even wetter.

Hyunjin is quick when he lets his pants drop down with his boxers, and his dick springs free. His achingly red cock pressing against his stomach. As you look from his cock to his eyes, you feel waves of fear spring over you. However, Hyunjin’s soft touch on your face calms your nerves. His other hand pumps his member a few times before the tip it teases against your folds.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn wet,” Hyunjin groans, and you don’t answer, watching as Hyunjin slowly pushes himself into you, raw. Your head falls from the feeling, and Hyunjin’s mouth falls open, letting out a breathy groan as he eased himself into you. Your throbbing womanhood getting used to such a feeling. Once his pelvis bone is pressed against your ass, he stays there like that for a moment, and you get used to his size.

After a few moments of the sounds of both of your loud breaths, Hyunjin’s face nears yours, and your eyes flicker open to stare into his dark eyes. “I’m gonna start movin’, (Y/N),” he warns, and you nod.

“Please…” You grumble, and Hyunjin’s lip rises in a smirk.

“Please?”

“Move… Fuck me hard, Hyunjinnie. I can’t take it anymore. It’s about time you stopped fucking teasing me, huh?” You growl out, irritated.

Hyunjin’s smirk drops to a frown, and his hand grips your cheeks harshly, “Watch your tone with me, (Y/N). You can be so fucking proud, and that’s one of the reasons I wanna hate you. But, you’re too irresistable not to fuck until you’re screaming my name and begging for more.” And, after that, he ever so slowly pulls out of you before ramming himself back into you. So harshly and aggressively, it moves the whole table enough to where it creaks on it’s old legs. You let out a loud, inevitable moan that forces its way out of your lips.

Hyunjin does that a few times, and he throws his head back because of the pleasure. His face drowned in lust, and you clung to the table. A new burning sensation in your core as Hyunjin’s dick rams into your pure walls, deriving them from their innocence. You’re heat clenches around him as he pulls himself in and out of you. Slowly driving himself out before ramming into you.

But, he doesn’t do that for long when he starts to find a fast rhythm. One hand gripping your thigh while the other holds himself up on the table. He’ll sometimes let out breathy grunts or groans, but you’re on the verge of screaming out from how fast he was going. His cock burning your walls, sending a new sensation through you. It’s painful, but you’re loving it so much. You’re loving the burn, the penetration, everything.

Your eyes are closed, pure ecstasy running through you as your hands move up to wrap your arms around Hyunjin’s neck, pulling him close to you and into a kiss. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back. Both of your mouths open to crash your tongues together in bliss as your legs wrap around Hyunjin loosely. His hips stay consistent, but your hips twitch and stutter. Your back stiffening and twitching, pressing tight against Hyunjin’s clothed torso as he kisses you. One of his hands guiding up to harshly caress your cheek, jaw and neck. His long fingers tugging lightly at your hair as your hands screwed with Hyunjin’s hair. Running through it, gripping it, even tugging it sometimes.

“Oh my fucking god, (Y/N),” He moans against your lips, moving away to rest his lips against your neck as he groans, his hips stuttering slightly, throwing him off his rhythm, “You’re pussy’s so fuckin’ good. Feels so fuckin’ good.” You moan out in response, too lost in desire, lust and euphoric, blissful pleasure to form something as simple as a response. Your mind so blank, nothing running through your mind other than how Hyunjin’s cock makes your pussy feel so fucking good. How he makes you feel so fucking good. The way it’s overstimulated and edged on, it’s almost overwhelming to the point you want to cry from the stimulation.

You begin to moan, nearly screaming out Hyunjin’s name as you feel your climax nearing, clenching helplessly around his cock. “Hyunjin… Hyunjin! Oh, fuck, Hyunjin - ah, I’m gonna cum! Please, oh god, please, I wanna cum so… ah! - so fuckin’ bad…” Your words are slurred, but enough for Hyunjin to make out.

“Mmh… Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock, baby girl,” your back arches, flush against Hyunjin’s body as your gut erupts with a new feeling. Your neck cranes as your eyes open, rolling into the back of your head as your mouth opens in a silent scream. Cumming all over Hyunjin’s cock as he stops his thrusts, deep inside you to let you cum. Your mind hazing as you let out a string of high - pitched moans. Your body twitches and your knuckles turn white from gripping Hyunjin’s tee shirt.

Once you’re halfway through your climax, nearing the part where your whole body relaxes, Hyunjin quickly pulls out. Getting up from you, and your arms drop to your side as you breath heavily, coming down from your high. Hyunjin pumps his cock fast in his hands. Not slowing down whatsoever as his eyes squeeze shut. You watch his face as his mouth opens, moaning loudly as he cums over your stomach.

Once he is down from his climax, he breathes heavily. Sweat dripping down the side of his forehead. Your head falls back, your eyes closing as exhaustion then waves over your body. Catching your breath.

You didn’t even notice Hyunjin leaving shortly to grab an old cup from the counter and fill it with water before coming back. Dipping his fingers in the water to wipe his cum off of you. You jump at the sensation, but relax when you see Hyunjin’s distant, wistful smile. You watch as he wipes it off, making sure it’s clean before dumping the cup in the sink. Your heart quickens as Hyunjin puts on his clothes before he walks over to grab your clothes and silently help you put them on. He doesn’t really make eye contact with you, but it’s a comfortable silence. The first ever comfortable silence you’ve had with him.

It’s then, as he helped wipe you clean, dress you and make sure you were already by wiping the sweat off of your face with the back of his hand that Hyunjin wasn’t who you thought he was. Everything’s not as it seems. The way he smiles so adoringly at you as he brushes the back of his hand against your cheekbone ever so lovingly makes you feel conflicted with feelings.

At some point, Hyunjin lays down next to you on the art table. It’s quiet for a few minutes, both of your just staring at the ceiling, shoulders and legs touching.

“I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” He whispers, and you finally look over to him. He wears a delicate smile, and a tear trickles down the side of his face, “I really shouldn’t. I really don’t know why, but I do.” His voice cracks at the end of his sentence, and you swear your heart shattered right there. “I… I shouldn’t have had sex with you. It’s only making everything worse for me. It’s making everything hurt so much more.”

He sits up, wiping his face, turning his back from you. He sniffs softly, letting out sharp breaths as his back trembled from his hoarse breathing.

You sit up, too. Reaching over to put your hand on his shoulder, but you hesitate.

No. If Hyunjin isn’t really who you thought he was, you want, you need to get to know the real him.

So, you make up your mind.

You get off of the table to move in front of him, and he tries to move away, his hands covering his red face. You gently grip his hands, pulling them away from his face. And it’s a sight you thought you’d never have to see. His eyes are red, his face wet and pink from the tears staining his face. It’s such a pitiful look on him, and you thought you’d never, ever see him so vulnerable. He keeps him looking down, trying to pull his hands away, but you have a tight grip on them.

“Look at me, Hyunjin.” You demand in a soft, yet firm voice. Hyunjin doesn’t for a moment, and you were about to repeat yourself, but Hyunjin’s eyes lock with yours. You give him a soft sigh and smile, “Hyunjin. You’ve proved to me that you’re not the person I thought you were. And… if you’re really not the douchebag, fuckboy and absolute asshate that I know, then… then I’ll stay by your side. Alright?”

Your heart hammers against your chest as Hyunjin’s eyes widen slightly, another tear slowly dripping down his face. You let go of one of his hands to gently rub it away with your thumb. Just below his eye. Hyunjin stares at you with wide, doubtful eyes. His lips slightly ajar as his hand trembles in yours.

So, to ease the silence, you press a gentle kiss to his lips. With no tongue, it’s an innocent kiss. He doesn’t kiss back at first, but he does after a moment.

And, the rest of that night was spent in that old art room. Either talking to each other, kissing each other or holding each other that night. You learned a lot about Hyunjin. About why he likes to fuck around, why he thinks he’s in love with you and other things about his life. You also told him a lot about you, about why you didn’t feel right about him at first.

And, by the end of that night, you could easily conclude that you’re in love with Hwang Hyunjin, and that it’s possible to fall in love with someone in the span of one night after years and years of hating each other.

786 notes · View notes

lebrookestore · 3 years

Text

four years, one night

Pairing: Ten Lee x female reader

Themes: SLOWBURN, best friends to lovers, player! ten, fuckboy! ten, fluff, humour, angst, sexual tension, college au, some talk about music

Warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of sex (?kinda), ten is kind of an asshole, reader calls herself a dumb bitch, bittersweet ending, three kisses, kissing, gets a little spicy in one scene but that’s about it, PG15

WC: 10.8k

Playlist: Dream Launch by Wayv, Never let you go by AleXa, Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift, Young again by Morgan Evans, Without You by NCT U, The Tempest by Beethoven (this looks so out of place eye-)

Taglist: @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu @1-800-seo @sweetlyjaem @badwithten @blueprint-han @chicksung

Summary: Ten was a fickle person, he jumped from one person to another, breaking hearts, and getting his own heart broken. The one person who had to pick it up every time? You, of course, and it was exhausting, especially when you had to watch.

day break [ extra piece based in this universe ]

A/n: hello! this fic is very much self indulgent, but i love it so much. I spent most of the last week working on it and half of it is me simping, and I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to @chicksung for beta reading and helping me throughout writing this. As always, feedback would be very much appreciated!

‘I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong’- Lemony Snicket

A loud slam of the door made you flinch, shutting your eyes in exasperation as you knew what was to come. The same thing over and over again, you were used to it. Honestly, it was nothing new, but his stupidity, the obvious was in front of him, but did he listen? Of course, he didn’t.

A figure walked into the room, a mop of messy black hair with brown highlights adorning his head. It was pretty long at this point, his bangs reaching his eyes. Those damning eyes, melting pools of chocolate brown that seemed to bore into your soul. Those eyes looked remorsefully at you now, as he plopped down next to you, wrapping his arms around your midriff and burying his face in your back.

You sighed. “Again?”, you asked, running your fingers through his hair as he hummed a response. “Again”, he repeated, confirming your suspicions. He looked up, his eyes meeting yours.

You hated his eyes.

He managed to make you do anything for him with just a look. They were undoubtedly your weakness, when they looked sad, or when they upturned into a smile, that instantly brightened your day.

“I can’t seem to get it right can I?”, he asked, searching your eyes as if you had all the answers to his turbulent love life. You scoffed, “You couldn’t have been serious about that chick, Ten, you met her three weeks ago, and she was simply a rebound for you” “Thanks for the support”

“I’m being real, not supportive”

He rolled his eyes, pouting. “But I liked her”, he whined. You gave him a pointed look, “Please, You just wanted someone to be with, if not to fu-” “Oh my god, shut up”

You smirked, turning your attention back to your laptop, where the essay you had been trying to write glared back at you.

“I just want someone who understands me”, Ten continued, still looking at you. You looked at him.

I understand you, you thought, I’m here

Ten had always been like this, he jumped from girl to girl, getting his heart broken several times because he was too forgiving with it. He wanted to love, he had always romanticized the idea. Honestly, you thought he needed love too, but he was going down all the wrong paths.

And you had to be there every single time to pick up the pieces.

“I know”, you said half-heartedly, biting your lower lip. He propped his chin upon his fist, observing you and your concentrated look. You typed away, desperately wanting to be done with this paper, one you had been working on for about three days.

“Do you think I’ll ever do something right?”, he asked. You froze, pushing down what you wanted to say. It was hard, having to deal with Ten's endeavors of the heart’ as he called them. The right term would be- doing random shit and breaking girls' hearts', but of course, he refused that catchy title. Sighing, you shut your laptop, knowing you wouldn’t get anything done now that he was in a mood.

“You haven’t done anything wrong” “Haven’t done anything right either”

You took his face in your hands, “You haven’t done anything wrong, you’re amazing, now stop moping, I’m ordering pizza”

He pulled away from you, sitting up properly. “Can I stay over?”, he asked hopefully. You clicked your tongue, looking at him with an annoyed expression. “Don’t you have your dorm?” “My roommate said he has a girl over, and I kinda want to sleep, thanks” You rolled your eyes, but nodded, picking up your phone and walking into the other room to order.

You heard laughter and looked back to see the boy laughing at something on his phone. Probably a cat meme, or something of the sort. You admired his side profile for a minute, the slope of his nose, the way his eyes shone. He was okay, you supposed, annoying, but okay. No matter how much he tried to justify it, he didn’t care for the girl who broke up with him. He was just fine right now, and had moved on from the topic pretty quickly, and was already smiling.

You also hated his smile. Infuriatingly adorable, one smile would make you want to smile back. You hated it with every ounce of your being, the effect he had on you.

You hated Ten Lee.

Scratch that, you didn’t hate the poor boy, you just, despised him?

Nope, you were close friends.

Ironic isn’t it? You had met Ten at a party, where the Dance major was having a lot of fun. You hadn’t seen him before but had heard of him. The boy who jumped from girl to girl as easy as one, two, three. You had no intention of even talking to him, you were content in a dark corner, with a drink.

Nothing ever goes your way.

The meeting was by chance, he was dared to ask you to dance, you declined, he persisted giving you those puppy eyes. After glaring at him, he sighed, explaining it was a dare, and that he didn’t want to make a fool of himself, and before you knew what was happening, you were awkwardly swaying along to the music with him.

He, regrettably, stuck with you for the rest of the evening, and you ending up liking his company, to the extent where you invited him over the next day for pizza.

The pizza situation turned out to be a thing between the two of you, a tradition of sorts. He would come over with candy, in an oversized sweatshirt looking illegally adorable, you would supply the blankets, and movie nights would begin.

He had a sweet smile and sparkly eyes, which made you question if this was the guy who broke hearts, who was a player. He was like a puppy, it confused you to no end.

“Miss L/n?”, your professor asked, raising an eyebrow at your spaced out figure. Startling, you blinked rapidly, cringing at the situation you had put yourself in. “Sorry”, you apologized, focusing back on the textbook in front of you. You were majoring in Psychology, and while you love the subject, the teacher didn’t like you very much, probably because you had been so distracted the past few weeks, and you hadn’t done particularly well in the midterms.

Needless to say, you were stressed.

The class got over quickly, and you walked out of the lecture hall, deciding to get some coffee before your next class. The cafe was a well-loved one visited by almost every student, and was famous for its chai-lattes, so much so that others also visited it, and not just the students.

Turning towards the on-campus cafe, you spotted Ten already there. His glasses sat at the edge of his nose, giving him an oddly studious look, which was almost laughable. He stood there, holding two cups of coffee, eyes lighting up as he spotted you.

Ten Lee was going to be the death of you.

You walked up to him, taking the coffee which he handed to you, “What do you want?”, you asked suspiciously, taking a sip of the bittersweet drink. You noted the fact he had gotten your favorite, which only worsened the feeling of butterflies in the pit of your stomach. He looked mock offended, and grinned at you, “Nothing!”, he said, “Just wanted to see you”

You rolled your eyes in an attempt to thwart your initial reaction, beginning to walk back to the main campus, for your psych class. Ten walked beside you, holding his sketchbook in his right hand, and coffee in the left.

“Okay, um actually-”

“You want something don’t you?” “I need a reference model”, he said, “So, Y/n, could you please-”

“Oh my god no”, you said, without even letting the poor boy finish, “Last time this happened it ended up with a pain fight and my sweater destroyed.”

“I said I was sorry!”, he semi shrieked, “And this time I need it for a project worth half my grade.”

Sighing, you but your lower lip, nodded tentatively, to which he let out an almost inhuman sound of appreciation, “When are you free?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Nah, I have a date”

You blinked in surprise, and he smiled sheepishly. “Eun-hae asked me out and I said yes so”

“Of course you did”, you muttered bitterly, “You broke up with that other one yesterday”

He seemingly chose to ignore you, “Sunday?”

You nodded and took another sip of the drink you held. He smiled, his eyes forming those endearing crescents that you loved, or hated, depending on what you were going for.

“Thank you, Love you”, he called out, jogging away to his class. You watched him run-walk away, almost dropping his sketchbook. Shaking your head in amusement, you smiled somewhat sadly.

“No”, you whispered, “You don't”

You didn’t know exactly when you fell for Ten, only that it happened suddenly and you couldn’t deny it. He was idiotic, on many levels, but he was sweet and was there for you when you needed it.

He was a dance major, and an art minor, talented in both these aspects. You had seen him dance, it seemed like his body moved with the music, it told a story every time. He would illustrate emotion with his dancing. He did that with his art too, each stroke equivalent to a sentence from a story.

Anyone could tell he loved both of them.

You let out a frustrated sound, bending down to pick up the pen you had dropped. You were in your apartment, trying to finish an essay that was due the next day. You longingly glanced at your keyboard, the one instrument that you loved.

Well actually, you loved the piano, but you couldn’t haul your piano from back home to your apartment that you had rented out for your college years, and so you settled for a keyboard. You had loved music ever since you were little, instruments making its way in and out of your house. Your jazz phase consisted of saxophones, and you played the guitar for a bit too. You even picked up the drums for a while, insisting that it made you cooler (because every thirteen year old needed that validation), but you settled back to piano eventually.

You took part in competitions and such, sometimes singing along with your playing as well.

But you couldn’t afford to even think about playing, until you finished your assignments, which were all marked. They were extensive projects that made you want to scream at times. You didn’t care what Shakespeare meant, nor did you want to conduct a survey about emotions.

Turning the page of your textbook, you switched tabs to your next resource, ready to jot down more notes for the essay, when you saw a notification at the bottom right of your laptop, which was an email. You clicked on it and let it open.

Your eyes widened, gaping slightly at the screen as you read the email.

To: y/[email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good morning/evening,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into The Royal School Of Music on a scholarship. We have received your application and are impressed by your talent and dedication. Please send us a follow-up email within a month's time to confirm your attendance at our institution.

TRSOM

You grabbed your phone, texting your mother about the scholarship, shaking in happiness. It had been your dream to get into the Royal school, but you had initially applied to it on a whim, not really expecting to get in.

You swiped through your contacts, ready to call Ten, who was regrettably your best friend, to inform him of the good news, until you realized-

The school was in another country altogether.

While you knew Ten would be ecstatic about the fact you got it, you had known each other for four years, the entirety of your college career, and leaving for the school would be a bit of a shock. It was definitely not the fact that telling the boy you loved you were potentially never going to see him again that was deterring you from telling him.

You placed your phone back down, telling yourself you would deal with that later, reminding yourself you had an essay to finish.

Ten tapped his finger impatiently on the table, trying to figure out a way to get out of this date. Initially, the girl he was out with, Eun Hae by name, seemed nice, but as time went on, it was clear she had no personality.

Now, Ten wasn’t one to judge immediately. He tried to give her a chance, smiling and indulging in the bland conversation, he smiled and complimented her, and was sweet. It was going fine for a first date until of course, she suggested they share a fruit salad.

There were about fifteen other salads on the godforsaken menu, but no, she had to choose a fruit salad, above everything else.

Ten was not having it.

He excused himself, muttering something about an assignment, and went to the restroom of the restaurant, pulling out his phone and searching for your contact, clicking on it.

[8:39 pm] 10: y/n

[8:39 pm]10: my precious friend

[8:39 pm] n/n : what now

[8:40 pm]10: I need help

[8:40 pm] n/n: I refuse

[8:40 pm] 10: I am ofFENDED

[8:40 pm]10: please my date is making me eat fruit

[8:40 pm] n/n: sounds like a you problem

[8:40 pm] 10: I am quivering in fear and this is how you react

[8:40 pm] n/n: I have three assignments to finish

[8:41 pm] 10: I’ll take you for ice cream

[8:41 pm] n/n: deal

[8:41 pm] 10: why has our friendship been reduced to bribery

[8:41 pm] n/n stfu or I won't come and save you

[8:41 pm] 10: I LOVE YOU

He quickly sent you his location and put his phone back, getting back to the table and smiling as realistically as he could at the girl opposite him, who was still going on about one of her friends and their doings, while he tried to look as interested as possible.

“So, should we order-”

Right at that moment, you walked in, hair tousled because of the wind and a disgruntled expression on your face. He made an attempt not to smile at your appearance, ignoring the warm feeling he got on seeing you.

You looked around spotting him and storming over, “Ten Lee, what the fuck are you doing here”, you asked, ignoring the girl that sat right opposite him, mock angrily. He caught on, staring at you in bewilderment, noting the hint of amusement in your eyes, “How dare you to do this to me!”

“I-”

“Um, who are you?”, the girl asked, seemingly offended that you had interrupted their date.

You scoffed, displaying all your acting abilities in their full potential, “Who am I? Who are you?”

She blinked in confusion, and Ten used every bit of willpower he had to prevent him from bursting out into laughter. “I’m his date?”

“Un-fucking-believable”, you said, “Ten Lee how could you?”

At this point, Ten was invested in whatever lie you had somehow come up with to get him out of this date. It seemed like you had an entire explanation for it, either that or you were taking the opportunity to scream at him. Both seemed valid.

“How dare you lead this poor girl on!”, you continued, taking a turn, making the girl look scared, “You didn’t tell her did you?” “Tell me what?”, she asked anxiously, leaning forward. You fought to keep your straight face on seeing Ten lean forward too, apparently interested in whatever abomination he committed.

“He’s gay”, you said with as straight a face as possible, which was hard considering the girl looked so embarrassed, you could see her face go red. Your best friend looked at you incredulously, almost as embarrassed as his ‘date’ was, and mildly amused.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’ll be taking him”, you stated, grabbing Ten’s hand and taking him along with you, out of the restaurant and onto the streets.

“You really-” “Ice cream”, you demanded, smirking at his obvious embarrassment. He gaped at your indignance, but nodded, “At least you got me out of there”

“I’m an actress”

“Fuck off”

“Finals are in two weeks, I still come help and this is how to repay me? Ungrateful”

The two of you took Ten’s car to the Ice cream shop, leaning on the hood as you ate your ice cream, with Ten occasionally stealing bites. You smacked his hand away, glaring at his as he tried to take another.

“I’m literally the one paying for it”, he argued.

“This is payment for saving your ass”, you retorted. He slung an arm around you, ignoring you and taking his phone out, scrolling through Instagram. You leaned into him, the scent of your shampoo making its way to him. There was that warm feeling again, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Deep down, he knew what it was, but he was too much of a coward to ever try, or even take a chance with it, because he wasn’t one for commitment, and even though he had thought about it, he was, as much as he hated to admit it, scared.

“So can I get another scoop?”

“You have assignments to finish”

THREE WEEKS TO GRADUATION

The lilting tune played through your apartment, your fingers running across the ivory keys in fervor. They clicked and clacked ever so often, which was the one thing you hated about keyboards. The keys weren’t as firm as an upright piano, giving the music an annoying clickity noise.

Most of the time, you could ignore it, but today you were tired, and this piece was particularly difficult. For some reason, you were having trouble playing the accessories, and keeping the piece in time. You played that part over and over again, but it wouldn’t work.

You switched off the metronome in annoyance, you stared at the music sheet in front of you, trying to figure out how the fuck you should play the piece. Your door clicked, and you did your best to curb your annoyance at the fact someone was interrupting your practise time, no matter how hard the piece was.

Like all keyboards, yours was smaller than an actual piano, and looked very out of place in your apartment, which was warmly decorated with all sorts of trinkets and such. One of Ten’s sweatshirts was thrown on the sofa, and for some unknown reason there were three candles sitting on your table.

It was confusion incarnate, to say the least.

You heard the door click, and a girl walked in, smiling at you. It was the only other person other than Ten who had the key to your apartment, Angie. She was shorter than you, but only by a little bit, had a fringe and brown eyes. She was pretty, and easy to talk to, which was probably what drew you to her in the first place.

“Hey”, she greeted, seeing you on your keyboard, “Whatcha playin?”

“An andante”, you groaned, “Why are you here?”

“I have nowhere else to be”, he said bluntly, “Renjun’s at Doyoung’s place or something”, she pulled out her phone, “I’m just here to chill dude, continue playing, I finished two projects and my brain in dead”

Renjun was her boyfriend, who was on the Dance Team with Ten. The two were ridiculously cute, but due to the fact she now had a boyfriend, the two of you spent less time together. You were okay with it though, you understood.

“Isn’t Doyoung with his girlfriend?”, you asked, and she shook her head, “No, she’s at her Chinese class”

You nodded, going back to your piece, placing your fingers on the correct notes when-

SLAM

Your door opened and closed again, and you closed your eyes, praying to whatever God existed that one day, you would get to practise without interruptions. Ten trudged through throwing himself on the couch, next to Angie, who paid him no attention. “Hi”, he greeted you, and you glared, causing him to give you a look of confusion.

“What did I do now?”

“Not your fault, sorry, I’m not getting this piece”

He perked up, walking over to where you were, “Can I help?”, he asked, gesturing for you to move to the side of the piano stool so he could sit next to you. He studied the notes, as you looked at him, admiring his side profile, wondering how someone could be so pretty. He placed his hand on the keys, playing it. He made a mistake but in the place you had gotten. He got the part you were struggling right.

“Here, do this”, he explained, “The notes are after the third but before the fourth count, so you have to play it quickly”

You nodded, trying to play it, not quite getting it but it was getting there. He smiled, his eyes turning into crescents as he grinned at you.

You hated his smile.

It was infuriating, the fact that he always helped you, he was always there. You kept finding yourself falling for him more and more, and you didn’t want to, because you knew how Ten was, and it was making the whole ‘telling him about the acceptance into the music school’ a lot harder.

You thanked him, pushing him off the stool playfully so you could finish your practice session before going back to studying. He made a mock offended look, retreating to the couch next to Angie, who was engrossed in texting someone, presumably her boyfriend.

His hair was messed up, sticking up in different directions making him look ridiculously adorable. You shut down the keyboard, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to practice anymore with the both of them around. You went to sit next to Angie, but Ten’s entire presence seemed to be in your way.

“Move”

“No, I’m comfortable” “Chittaphon Leechaiya-”

“Yeah I’d like some chai”, Angie said mindlessly, causing the two of you to look at her in mild astonishment. She seemingly didn’t notice your gaping looks, still scrolling through whatever she was looking at.

“Did you just reduce me to tea?”, Ten asked.

Angie looked at him, mystified. “It seems so”, you mused. A slow smirk stretched across his lips. He propped himself up on his elbows, his too-long hair falling over his eyes

“I’m flattered”

“What?”

“Tea is hot. I’m hot”, he drawled, waiting for the two of your reactions to his statement.

You smacked him.

It was your designated pizza day, which meant Ten was at your place. He was currently in the kitchen getting something to drink and ordering the pizza while you sat alone in your living room.

You looked up at your laptop screen, going over the draft of the email you were to send back the The Royal School of Music. Your parents had been extremely proud of you for getting in, and had called you the other night to congratulate you. You heard footsteps, quickly shutting your laptop down, looking up at Ten who walked into your living room from the kitchen.

“Pizza will arrive in a bit”, he said, handing you your drink and plopping down next to you, “Movie?”

“Uh Bridge to Terabithia”, you spouted, taking a sip. You were supposed to be looking for a movie while he was gone, but instead had begun writing the email, so you spouted the name of one of your childhood favorites, that never failed to make you cry. He nodded and you opened Netflix, quickly searching the movie and pressing play.

Ten wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as the two of you sat in silence. The movie played, and even though you had already watched it before, you still found yourself invested in it. Except you weren’t completely focusing. Ten was so close, his fingers brushing against your hips, his breath near your neck. It felt right, like you were supposed to be like this.

That was the thing, it never felt wrong when you were with Ten, it was like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. Except of course for the fact he wasn’t yours. You knew how Ten was, he was the heartbreaker, and you were the one who was always there to pick up the pieces. Still it was nice to pretend that he was yours, because that was all you could do.

Pretend.

He kept talking about how he wanted someone who understood him, who he could be with, not just some stupid fling. He kept repeating the same thing again and again, and it frustrated you to no end, because you understood him and you were right there, but he never saw you. He would flirt with you, he would do everything and yet, he would never even think of you.

You leaned into him subconsciously, biting your lower lip as you stared at the screen in anticipation. He started playing with your hair, twirling it around his fingers, his hot breath on your neck making hard for you to fully concentrate on the movie.

You hated the effect he had on you, he had barely even done anything, but had still managed to make you nervous. He pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Are you even watching?”, you asked, semi breathlessly, “Yes”, he responded, “But I want to cuddle.” You couldn’t argue with that logic, so you relaxed into his embrace, as much as you could. “You’re warm”, he murmured against your skin, looking back up at the screen and humming a random tune. “I’m hungry”

“I think I have some M&M’s on the counter”, you mused, “I’ll go get them”, you jumped at the chance to get up and get away from Ten, who was positively driving you crazy at this point. However, your grand plan was cut short when he refused, “I can go get it”, he made a move to get up.

“Sit down idiot-”, you said, pushing him off you, but accidentally tripped over yourself, falling back into his embrace. He laughed, hands falling to your waist to make sure you didn’t fall. “Graceful”, he snickered, and you glared at him. “I hate you”, you grumbled, “You love me”, he teased, making you almost fall again.

Except this time, his face was dangerously close to yours, and you just stared at him, your mind going blank. His arms were still around you, preventing you from falling. His eyes fluttered down to your lips for a second before he looked back up. He opened his mouth to say something but-

RING

The doorbell rang, startling the two of you out of your trance. You pulled away from Ten, shakily walking over to the door and opening it.

“Pizza?”, the guys asked, handing you the pizza box, “Yeah thanks”, you paid him and walked straight into your kitchen, not giving Ten another look, because you knew that you wouldn’t be able to.

You sighed, shutting your eyes, and trying to collect yourself, before grabbing the M&M’s and walking back into the living room, where Ten was sitting, eyes trained on the screen.

“You missed an entire scene”

“YOU DIDN’T PAUSE IT FOR ME-?”

The music echoed through the studio, its melody harsh and striking. It was dark, no lights were on, but the mirrors reflected the only person in the room-Ten.

His figure moved with the music, choosing to do whatever it pleased, trying to portray the beautiful piece to its fullest. The higher notes gave it a sort of hopeful effect, a guide. It lead you to believe that it was alright, it was fine.

The lower notes added depth to the melody, giving it a richer feel. The two played together made it a beautiful piece, with a sort of melancholic feel. He danced to it, telling a story with his body. Ten would do this sometimes, instead of choosing an upbeat song to dance to, he’d take a classical piece, something that he could feel.

There was something in this piece, the Tempest, that resounded within him. It reminded him of you, specifically your friendship with him if you could even call it that. He got that warm feeling again that day when you had almost fallen. He would’ve kissed you if not for the doorbell.

Ten wasn’t one for commitment, he wasn’t one for standing up first and telling people about his feelings. He played people, he played them like he painted a picture, or danced.

Speaking of which, the piece had suddenly taken a turn for the turbulent, faster-paced, anxious even. It resembled his feelings perfectly, the random urges to tell you, the anxiety for the outcome. He somehow managed to gracefully enact these feelings, making it look like art instead of the confusion he felt.

Maybe he chose this piece not only for himself but for you too.

It was one of your favorite ones to play, you could and would talk about it for days, especially when you had just mastered playing it. It wasn’t an easy piece, with all the nuances and timing changes, but you pulled it off. He could almost pretend it was you playing.

And then suddenly it mellowed down, the piece sounding hopeful as if there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and you could finally see it. A solution, a happy ending to the harsh waves of the storm, a merry end. His moves became lighter and almost joyful, as he twirled and jumped.

It was all an illusion.

A lie to make you believe the storm was over, there was no hope for this story. The harsh melody returned with vengeance, striking down the sliver of longing, any dream of making it out. Ten did his best to keep up with it, but the sudden change of emotions was startling even to him. It had changed so quickly, he didn’t even have time to comprehend it.

It ended on a triumphant note, like a proud win over an enemy, a victory that shone above everything. Ten ended the dance with a pirouette, panting as he tried calming himself down from the intense session. He couldn’t help feeling triumphant as well, the adrenaline of the piece getting to him, yet, he was skeptical.

Because he had a feeling it was the Tempest that had triumphed, and not him.

You’ll admit: you were not having fun with Psych. You had been studying all day, trying to absorb some of the stuff you had been taught throughout the year. Even though studying human behaviour had always intrigued and interested you, the reason you chose Psych, you couldn’t care less about oxytocin and how attraction worked, nor did you care about how human behaviour was affected by it.

But you had been at it for the past 6 hours, and was tired, so when Angie came along and expressed her disgust and sympathy about your studying endeavors, she hauled you up from the place you had been sitting at for most of the day and instructed you to change and get ready to go or a party.

So you found yourself at a frat party, Angie's arm hooked in yours and music blaring all around you. It was hot and dark, and you could barely see anything with the terrible lighting. You couldn’t tell what song was being played at such high volume, but awkwardly swayed to it anyways, wondering if staying at home at falling down the hole of ice cream and Netflix would have been a better alternative to this.

There were couples making out, and random beer cans everywhere. Everyone was half drunk, and you took this as an excuse to go get a drink. You turned to Angie who was looking the other way.

“Angie”, you whisper-screamed her name into her ear, causing her to jump, “I’m going to get a drink okay?”, you explained, to which she nodded. “I’m going to Renjun”, she said, walking away and leaving you alone.

Friendship.

You pushed through the crowd of sweaty adults, to get to the makeshift bar that was at the other end of the frat. You stopped occasionally to greet friends, or smile at a random cute boy, but finally made it to the kitchen. Johnny, one of your other friends stood there, inclining his head in a greeting. “Hey, what do you want?” “Are you in charge of the drinks or something?”, you asked, leaning on the island of the kitchen. He grinned at you, shaking his head, “No, but I’m so much I might as well be!”

You laughed, requesting for your drink of choice, which he went to fix for you. You licked your lips, scanning the area to find another friend to latch onto, since Angie had so kindly abandoned you.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here”, a very familiar voice said form behind you, and you turned to see none other than your best friend.

But he looked nothing like what you were used to.

Ten’s hair was slicked back instead of splayed out on his forehead like usual, his eyes seemed darker, probably due to the alcohol. He was wearing skinny jeans, and a blazer with most of the buttons undone, his chest in full view.

Ten looked hot.

“Uh-”, you started like the well read person you were, “Angie dragged me”

He smirked, “Of course she did”, he took a seat on one of the stools, legs spreading as he leaned back. You looked away, trying your hardest not to stare at the boy in front of you, who was making that mission increasingly harder with every little thing he did.

Johnny came back out, offering you a smile and your drink, which you took from him, returning his smile. He handed a glass of something you couldn’t make out to Ten, who took a sip, keeping it on the island. “You don’t seem to be having fun”, he observed, hands finding your waist and pulling you closer to him.

This was a normal thing, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t the same innocent gesture. “I just arrived idiot”, you scoffed. He smirked, “You can look at me you know”, he teased, and you could feel the heat rush to your face. You turned your gaze to him. Currently you were in between his legs, and your mind was a mess.

The first thing you noticed was his tattoo on his right arm which you had seen before. The next was one you hadn't seen before, and rightly so, since it was on his chest.

“Done staring at me?”, he said with a smirk, and your eyes snapped up to his, holding his gaze. If you hated the effect his eyes had on you before, you positively despised them now. He was staring at you through a half lidded gaze, licking his lips. Even without any alcohol in your system you felt dizzy, but not a sick way. Ten was driving you crazy, with his hands on your waist, eyes on you and just everything about him in the moment.

“You’re pretty”, he murmured, looking up at you, eyes falling to your lips, “Did you know that?”, his voice was deeper than usual, sending shivers down your spine. “I-”

“Hmm?”, he sounded absent minded, like he wasn’t even listening to you, which was great considering you didn’t even know what to say. He pushed you a little, standing up himself, now looking down.

“If you didn’t know, I think you are”, he said, face closer than any friend’s face should have been. You breath hitched in anticipation. “Ten?”, your voice was small, quivering almost under his gaze.

He was so close, painfully close. If anyone asked you how you got into this position in the first place, you wouldn’t be able to explain, not quite knowing yourself.

“Y/n, I need you for a second”, Angie appeared from nowhere, freezing when she saw the two of you in that position, “Um- I can leave-”

“Hey Ang”, Ten greeted, moving away from you. You missed the proximity, as much as you hated to admit it. You blinked hazily at your friend who had so conveniently interrupted whatever you had going on with Ten. You silently cursed yourself for getting so out of it. “Here, I think Arya is calling me anyways so”, he pushed his hands in his jeans pockets. He glanced at you, before walking away and out of the kitchen.

Would he have kissed you?

You looked over at your friend, who was still staring at you like she had seen a ghost. “Did I interrupt something?”, she asked, eyes wide. You felt embarrassed, taking a step back as if you were trying to walk out of the whole situation. “I’m not sure”, you said, “What do you need me for?”

“I need you to hold my drink, I need to go to the bathroom, Renjun is drunk as fuck and I trust you”, she explained, handing you her glass. You nodded, “And maybe can you watch my dumbass of a boyfriend please?”

You snorted, agreeing and walking to the main area of the party that was unfortunately the most crowded. You spotted Renjun on top of Donghyuck, practically choking the latter boy who was laughing for some reason. You could see why Angie went to you for her drink. Walking over, you tried to help Mark, another one of your friends, in separating Renjun and Donghyuck from initiating the 77th hunger games on a friday night.

After somewhat succeeding in pulling the two away from each other, Angie had arrived, choosing to ignore her wasted boyfriends antics and taking her glass back from you.

You remembered you had left your own drink back in the kitchen, and so you backtracked your steps to said place, when you saw it.

Ten was standing with a girl, her hands around his neck. He was saying something that made her giggle, throwing her head back in laughter as he grinned happily. You froze watching the scene unbeknownst to Ten. You didn’t know what you were feeling for an entire minute until it hit you.

You were hurt.

It was a pricking sort of feeling, like a rod prodding at your heart. It was like a warning, telling you to look away before it pierced your heart, but you couldn’t look away for some reason. It was like your mind was mocking you, telling you keep watching, to realize you never had the slightest chance with Ten.

You weren’t special, whatever flirting he did with you he did to everyone, anything that had remotely happened wasn’t even mentionable, because you were like every other girl in the crowd, and it fucking hurt. It hurt to see the boy you loved not give you a moment's thought, not even give you a chance.

That night you went back to your apartment alone, leaving Angie to deal with her boyfriend. You had never felt this horrible before, it had never escalated to this level of hurt. This type of hurt was different, a dull ache reminding you of what an idiot you were to have ever hoped for more.

You hated Ten for several things, his eyes, his smile, the way he could make you giddy by doing the simplest things. But in the moment, you hated yourself more.

You hated yourself for loving Ten Lee.

‘Don’t call me kid, Don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you’ve made me. You showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else’

You sat on a colourful rug, holding a book up, and surrounded by several other books. You were in a sort of greenhouse, the walls and roof were made completely off glass, and the light streamed through, giving the scene a sort of whimsical aura.

This was the place ten has chosen to paint you, standing behind his easel and and focusing on the canvas, occasionally looking up at you. There were flecks of white and pale blue paint on his face, and he looked whimsical in a way as well.

You sat there, ignoring the warnings in your mind that told you to stay away from Ten for yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You showed up to the venue right on time, and did your best to not seem any different. You spaced out, eyes focusing on a random word on a page. Ten had promised he was almost done with it, since the two of you had been at it for quite a while now.

His lower lip was caught between his teeth in concentration, hair messed up from the amount of times he had run his hand through it. He stepped back for a second, inspecting his work, a dorky smile stretching out on his lips.

“It’s done!”, he said, “Some fixing, but I can do that later, get your ass here!”

You get to your feet, placing the book on one of the piles of them around you and walking towards him, biting down your own smile at this enthusiasm. You walked behind the easel, your eyes falling on the painting.

It was gorgeous, the colours complimenting each other. The depiction of the light rays was so soft, yet it was there shining down on the main part of the picture- you. He had painted you so prettily, almost fairy like in the midst of the scene. You stared at the painting in awe, unable to think of words to describe it.

“So?”, he asked hopefully, his eyes searching yours for some sort of reaction. You looked at him, then at the painting, then back at him, wondering how he could’ve made it look so fanciful, something out of a disney movie.

“It’s beautiful”, you whispered, your voice not daring to go any louder. He smiled placing his palette down and standing next to you. “It’s not hard when the subject is beautiful”, he said nonchalantly. You froze, silently telling yourself to calm down, to not react to it, that it wasn’t anything to be noted. Yet something in you clicked, shifted into place.

You were angry.

You were furious at Ten, with his pretty smiles and wishful eyes. You hated it when he flirted with you, because he kept leading you on, you hated it when he looked at you like you were the world, because it was a lie, it was all a fucking lie.

“Don’t”, you said, voice shaky. He stared at you in confusion, which only irked you more.

“Don’t”, your voice betrayed you, breaking. He looked alarmed, reaching his hand out, “Hey, Are you okay-”

“No, I’m not okay”, you hissed, slapping his hand away, stepping back. Your mind was clouded with a feeling of helplessness, helplessness at not being able to tell him how you felt, how you hated what he did, how all you wanted was something you definitely couldn’t have. He looked bewildered at your seemingly sudden outburst.

“Stop fucking playing with me”, you said, “I’m not this”, you searched for the words, coming back with nothing, “Stop complimenting me, calling me sweet nothings, making me believe-”, you sucked in a breath, feeling the tears build up in your eyes, years of pent up frustration finally making their way out of you.

You looked up at him, he still seemed to not be following, “Y/n, I don’t-”

“I’m in love with you”, you choked out finally, the words seeming to tie you down, rather than set you free like you had once hoped. “I’m in love with you”, you repeated, Ten could hear the rage in your voice, washing down on him like the waves of the Tempest, harsh and real. “And I hate myself for it”

Your voice was softer, much more mellow now, like it was tired. A single tear trickled down your face, and you looked up to see a stunned Ten, eyes wide at your state. He said nothing, instead just looked at you, as if you were a different person all of a sudden. It wasn’t a pretty sight, you crying and him standing there like a statue, not a word escaping his lips.

The air seemed to be colder all of a sudden, biting into the exposed areas of your skin. There was that aching feeling again, that pricking of your heart, the silent ‘i told you so’, that your mind seemed to be playing on repeat. You brushed the tears away from your face furiously, feeling stupid all of a sudden.

“I’m going to go”, you muttered, grabbing your things and walking out, not caring if you looked idiotic, and not staying to listen to any pathetic response he gave you.

Ten watched you leave, cursing himself for being such an idiot to you. He didn’t mean to hurt you, he was in love with you himself, but he would never admit it. He hated himself for it, because he knew what he had done. He had flirted with you, had played you, but it was only because he thought the two of you never had a chance.

He hated himself because it was him, after all this time, who had destroyed that chance.

You sat in front of your computer, back at your apartment, trying not to cry again as you stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the send button. It hurt much worse than you expected it to, his silence had made everything all the worse. But you were tired of him going back and forth. You were tired of having to pick up the pieces every time when he broke another girls heart, or someone else broke his.

You had nothing to lose this time. So alone, in your room you pressed send, signing of your future, sending the email to The Royal School of Music.

Alone.

Finals week passed in a blur of stress crying, all nighters and excessive reading of things that you had read a million times before, and if they hadn’t already gotten into your head, they would never. Which prompted the stress crying.

It was a vicious cycle.

You barely stepped out of your apartment, other than to actually take the exam. All your time was taken up in studying, occasionally eating, and studying again. You also didn’t see Ten that much, other than a glimpse, but immediately swerved away, not in any mood to deal with that confrontation as of yet.

Somehow, you managed to make it to the end of the week, without completely going mad. You made it out of finals, and was technically done with your college career altogether, which was crazy to even think of. You had spent the last four years of your life in this hellhole to get to where you were, and you had made it.

So seeing yourself in front of the mirror a week later, donning your cape and cap over your clothes, you smiled for the first time in two weeks. It was the day you finally graduated and went out into the world as a person with a degree.

Granted, you were slightly pissed at the fact you had spent four years, and paid an enormous amount of money for a sheet of paper, but at the moment, you couldn’t get the fact that you were finally done with it out of your head. You were happy.

The ceremony started off slowly, the principal calling the names of the students in alphabetical order. You saw Ten walk up and take his degree, a broad smile on his lips. You saw Angie take hers, almost tripping over her cape, earning a laugh from the principal, and fond looks all about. You saw Renjun and Donghyuck hugging instead of at each other's throats for once, and Mark randomly beat boxing for no reason.

You went up on the stage, taking the degree and smiling, realizing that your vision was hazy. Tears of happiness had made their way to your eyes, and you blinked them back, thanking the principal and smiling at the crowd. You walked off, going to stand with your little group of friends.

Later on, Angie went off with her boyfriend for a celebratory date, Renjun and Donghyuck decided to crash at Marks place, and you? You decided to walk through the campus one last time, before you never returned. You were done with college and this place wasn’t yours anymore. It held a sort of nostalgic feel all of a sudden, walking under the arches and admiring the architecture one last time.

You were holding your cap in your hand, after finding it on the ground somewhere after the throwing of them. Your cape was folded and hung from your arm as you walked through, deciding to go get some coffee after you were done.

Lost in your own thoughts, you bumped into someone, dropping the cap., “Sorry-”, you begun you apologize for your absent mindedness, crouching to pick up your cap when you saw the person you had run into.

Ten.

You silently scowled, cursing whatever above that had thrown the two of you together at the very moment, and cleared your throat uncomfortably, looking away. “Hey”, he said breathlessly, looking you up and down. He looked great, he always did, you couldn’t deny the fact no matter how much you were trying to hate him.

“Hi”, you said curtly, “I have to go”

“Wait”, he reached out, grabbing your hand, “Can we talk?”, his voice was tilting towards the hopeful side. It reminded you of your own foolish hope, and you didn’t like it one bit. “No”, you said, “I have to go”, you repeated for words, crushing any hope.

“No- Wait, please, Y/n let me explain”, he pleaded his case, his eyes striking through yours, stirring up some sort of sympathy. Your mind was telling you to go, to get out as fast as possible, but your heart softened, as it always did with him.

“Explain what?”, you chuckled bitterly, “You’ve made it pretty clear how you feel Ten. I was stupid”, your words were hurting yourself, but hurting him too, because he knew it wasn’t your fault.

“No Y/n, you-”

“I what?”, you hissed in question. He spluttered, discouraged by your disinterest in whatever he was trying to tell you. You wanted nothing more to get away from him in that moment, but he seemed to want to stretch out your time together as much as possible. It annoyed you, and made you sad at the same time.

The more time you were with him, the more you could feel your heart break.

“I love you”, he said quietly, “I know I’m a terrible person for leading you on and not realizing earlier, but I love you.” You froze, standing there and staring at him. He looked back, not daring to break your gaze. Instead of joy, which was what you had expected to feel if he ever uttered those words, you felt angrier.

“Please Y/n”, he said, “Just give me a chance?”

You stayed silent, contemplating your choices. “How long have we been friends?”

“What-”

“How long have we known each other Ten?”

“Four years, but I don’t see-”

“We have been friends for four fucking years. I was there for every heartbreak, every date, every girl. I stood on the sidelines, I listened to you, I have you advice when you needed it, I comforted you when you cried. But you? You never gave me a chance!”, you exclaimed, “Not a second glance, not a single chance.”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, taking in your words and trying to think of something to justify them, but he couldn’t, he knew you were right.

“So yes”, you voice quivered, “You are an idiot. You’re an idiot for never realizing my feelings when i made it PAINFULLY obvious”, you took steps back, trying to calm yourself.

“I can't believe I”, you scoffed at yourself, your own idiocy, “I can’t believe that three out of four years I was in love with you, but I guess that’s what makes me the dumb bitch.” You looked away, the words you had wanted to say since forever finally out of your system. He stood there, just a few steps away from you. But then, why did it seem like he was miles away?

“I’m sorry”, he said weakly, “I hate myself for what I did, but Y/n I”, he paused, shutting his eyes in frustration, “I’m in love with you dammit, and I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I’ve put you through but, can we-”

“No”, you said, “We can’t”

“Y/n give us a chance, please”

“You don’t understand!”, you said almost feverishly, blinking back tears, “I can’t Ten”

“Why not?”, he asked, walking closer to you. You took a step back from him, looking at the boy you loved with remorseful eyes. “I’m leaving Ten. I’m leaving for a music school in another country.”

He blanched, any hope withering away, like a dead flower, dried with the summer heat, like a lone boat in the midst of a storm. You let out a pathetic sob, realizing that you couldn’t ever have Ten, no matter what.

“I’ll be gone before we could ever be”

The world was never fair. It came at you with things you wished never happened, you wished you could change, or would have handled better. Like a storm on an unsuspecting sailor, it’s waves crashed down on you, and you were unable to breathe.

Life was the tempest, with it’s harsh tremors, it’s sudden soft waves that lead you to believe things were going to be okay. It’s highs and it’s lows, the good times and the bad. You found it ironic, the fact you were playing your favorite piece of all time, and it reminded you of reality.

You had always viewed music as an escape from reality, but now you were starting to connect the two, using music to let both the worlds connect. Your fingers flew across the keys, the climactic melody thundering through your apartment.

Finishing the piece, you let out a sigh, taking the music sheets and placing them back in your folder. Shutting the keyboard down, you cleared up a bit, settling down on your couch. Cracking your knuckles, you pulled out your phone to mindlessly scroll through Instagram as one did to pass time.

You seemed to do that often, now that you were officially done with college and had a bit of time before you left for The Royal School of Music, approximately three weeks, you honestly had nothing else to do with your time.

And so, you indulged in the world of reels and other videos that didn’t necessarily add anything of worth to your being. Time seemed to trickle by slowly, much slower than you would have liked.

Your flight to the country in which the school was in had already been booked, your registration had been completed, and you had even found an apartment to rent over there. Some of your belongings had already been sent for shipping, leaving you with the bare minimum. You had even sold some stuff, because cross country shipping was expensive, and you had gathered quite a few things over your four years staying in your college area that you definitely didn’t need.

It seemed as if everything was set, you were ready to leave everything behind.

Your doorbell rang, it's obnoxious ringing sound making you wince out of annoyance. You got up from your spot on the couch reluctantly, and walked over to the door to open it.

You were met with a slightly disheveled looking Ten on the other side, hair slightly messy. It had been yet another week since you had seen him, not have been in contact since graduation day, and suddenly here he was at your doorstep. Before you could even say anything, he pushed his hand out, thrusting a pizza box in your face.

“I know you don’t want to see me, and I don’t blame you but”, he took a deep breath, “You’re going, and it sucks, but I’m happy for you, so i brought pizza, for old times sake?”

You blinked in surprise, your hands on their own accord and taking the box. As if he could sense you were skeptical, he rambled on, “Just a movie and pizza, then I’ll leave I promise.” Everything inside you screamed at you to say no, but the words left you before you could even comprehend your mind's thoughts.

“Okay”

You opened the door more, walking back into your apartment, opening the box and taking your laptop to search for a movie. He closed the door after himself, taking a seat beside you on the couch, but not touching you. It was like there was a wall in between the two of you, and you couldn’t break it down.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to.

“There’s a new season of His Dark Materials”, you thought aloud, “We could binge that.”

It was so easy, being with Ten. Like falling back into a routine you had missed, a habit that had been cultivated. It was natural, him by your side, eating pizza and searching for a movie or series to binge. It was a tradition for the two of you after all, and even though you had stayed away from Ten for your own heart, it felt so good to do this again. You had missed it.

“Sure”, he agreed, taking a slice of the pizza, the stringy cheese not breaking, “We may need plates.”

You shook your head at his comical state, placing your laptop down and walking into your kitchen, opening the topmost cupboard to get the plates down, when you realized you couldn’t reach it. Now usually, you would just get a stool or something to climb on top off, but that would mean going back out there and admitting to Ten that you were short.

That was not acceptable.

Of course any grand plans of somehow getting the plates down without Ten knowing had been thrown out the window when he himself walked into the kitchen, “Are you making the plates or something? What’s taking so long?”

He spotted you, hands stretching up, leaning over the counter. Ten smirked, walking over and taking the plates down himself, “Someone’s short”, he snickered, to which you glared, “You’re short too dumbass.”

“You’re shorter”, he teased, taking the second plate down. He was standing in front of you, directly facing you as he placed the second plate of the counter top. You stared indignantly at him, and he caught your gaze, holding it. It was the same Ten you had known since you entered your campus, the same Ten you met at that party.

The same Ten you were in love with.

His eyes shifted from yours to your lips, realizing how close the two of you were. His hand raised up to your face cupping it. You subconsciously leaned into his touch, eyes wide, waiting for him to do something, anything.

His eyes searched yours for an answer, some sort of indication that he could go ahead. You knew that nothing good would come from this, but you couldn't help but nod your head a little too fast, and fisting the end of his shirt in anticipation.

He kissed you.

His lips moved against yours softly, hesitantly, like they were scared you would disappear if he went any faster. It was nothing like you had ever imagined (believe me, you had imagined), but it was better. It was like a culmination of wanting had been poured into the kiss, and you didn’t want it to stop.

You could’ve sworn time had stopped when he kissed you, the world around you seeming to fade away. You could feel your knees going weak with the overwhelming feeling, the flutter in your stomach growing. If you hadn’t been holding onto the end of his shirt so hard, you would have collapsed into him.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered against your lips, pulling away, cupping your face, “I know I’m an idiot”, he confessed, and you resist the urge to agree, “I know I’m an idiot but,”, he stopped again, resting his forehead against yours. “One night”, he whispered, voice shaky now, “Will you be mine for just one night?”

There was something fragile in his voice, like he was afraid of your answer. You looked up, looking at those eyes you hated, but loved at the same time. You silently agreed, pressing your lips to his again, kissing him once more. His hands dropped down to your waist, your hands wrapped around his neck as you stole another long awaited kiss from him.

The plates were long forgotten about, instead the two of you stumbled back into the living room, hands not leaving each other. The back of his knees hit the couch, and he sat down, taking you with him. You sat on top of him, breathing heavily.

He pressed his lips to your forehead affectionately as you leaned into Ten, not ever wanting the moment to end. “I’m tired”, you whispered, all the years of pining and wishing he was yours suddenly weighing you down.

“I know”

“This isn’t going to end well is it?”

“I don’t know”, he mused, rubbing your back comfortingly. You looked at him once again, like you had done many times before, except this time he was yours, for how long? You didn’t know. You didn’t want the night to end, the prospect of losing him again already making your stomach pit.

“I love you”, he said, and you didn’t say it back. You didn’t have too, you had said it many times already, you had told him. Instead you kissed him again, getting drunk on him.

The rest of the night was spent this way,lazily kissing, cuddling, and eating pizza straight out of the box since neither of you wanted to get up again. Ten held you like you were the world, and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The two of you forgot about the serial you were supposed to binge as well, too caught up with each other to even care.

He told you about how he got scouted for dancing by an entertainment company, you filled him in about The Royal School of Music, about how you were so glad College was over even though you would miss it. He made you laugh with his stupid jokes, and it felt like it had always been. Somewhere along the line, the two of you fell asleep in the dead of the night, or almost morning, tangled up in each others arms, happy.

You woke up on your couch alone, your apartment lonely and silent. You looked around sleepily, your eyes catching a glimpse of the clock on your wall, which told you it was already noon. You pulled your knees to your chest, feeling out of place. Something was missing.

Ten.

Ten was gone, nowhere to be seen. You tried thinking back, wondering why he was gone, until you realized - one night was over. Like he had promised, he was gone, not yours anymore, and you weren’t his. You shivered, realizing that there wasn’t any blankets or anything on the couch, yet you couldn't seem to get up.

It hurt. You wanted to cry and scream, the realization that he was gone, before you could even fully have him sinking it. It felt so unfair, the fact that you could never really ever have Ten, someone you had loved for four fucking years, for more than a night.

You took in a shaky breath, looking to the end of the sofa, which is when you saw it. It was Ten’s painting, the one of you in the greenhouse, supposedly reading the books. On the top a sticky note read ‘The Tempest’. You brushed your finger over the painting, taking it in. He had left it here for you, and it was the one thing you had of him. At the bottom, it was signed in his handwriting.

‘10’.

“널 다시 만나면 네 손을 잡고 말해줄 텐데 I will never let you go”

fin.

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