#(laughs in the first time i ever did a real one i won a student award. idk how. but i DID and i won the pro category this year <3)

[spinoff-antithesis]

[@distinguished-turtle-enjoyer ]

i actually have not stopped thinkin bout your bb!edit like,,,, its so good and scratches my brain right

how long have you been doin edits for? do have any tips for someone, who hypothetically, wants to start doin edits too? what programs do you use? how did you do the cool animated bits?

im so sorry for all the qustions 😭😭 i just think youre very talented and inspirational and i hope you have a good day ^_^

hi firstly oh my gosh you're literally so sweet i am gently shaking you i love you so much /p. secondly, i apologize for the long answer! (it's all under the cut. this got away from me. i'm so sorry apparently i have a lot to say.) (also you're so good about the questions i would constantly be asking one of my professors questions during class to the point where she said i didn't have to go "i have a question" every time i approached her)

i've been editing since 2016! around march/april, i think? loved it so much i went into film & video production in college as a major so i could do editing for a living. (i have done more motion graphics for my classmates than i have done edits outside of class assignments, BUT!)

the program i use is after effects - i started learning it when covid first hit the united states because i had nothing better to do with my time (other than music theory but i failed that bc my professor focused more on the history aspects than the actual theory soooo) and my ipad kept giving me the "no more storage" whenever i tried to use videostar lmao. (vs has, apparently, gotten a LOT of good updates, so if you're looking to start editing and have an ios system, i'd look into it! only downside is you have to pay for some of the cool stuff).

also the program i use for masking (i think i explain this later dwdw) is superimpose. i've been using it since 2014 and it's SO nice bc i can use my fingers to erase backgrounds & stuff instead of hoping i can get it to work correctly in ae or photoshop (photoshop my DETESTED i'll use it but i'll complain the entire time).

for people who want to start editing: tutorials on how your program works and how to do specific transitions are gonna be your best friend when you're first figuring things out! i forced a friend to literally walk me through how after effects worked when i was first figuring it out, and when i had swapped to videostar back in 2017/2018(?) i had watched a Lot of tutorials. that and played around a lot and figured things out on my own - which is also always a good way to start!! it's also totally valid to look at other people's edits for inspiration - most editors don't really care, as long as you don't flat-out remake their edit (some people don't like that!). i have a style insp folder on instagram where i save edits that i like so if i need transition ideas or i'm doing a different style, i can look there for inspiration. at the end of the day, as long as you're having fun with it that's all that matters!

also, starting simple is always okay!! my edits for a year were just me slapping gifs & video segments together on a timeline in cute cut pro bc imovie didn't load them lol & it'd crash every time i breathed. ++ it never hurts to ask people for feedback/constructive(!!!) criticism/etc! (also not to sound like everyone else but practice? good. it's so good. if i showed my 14/15y/o self some of the edits i can make now they would've passed out on the spot bc i was still trying to figure out transitions back then. programs can also sometimes make a difference in edits, but usually it's not super noticeable until you start getting to the Complicated Shit.)

a lot of popular programs i've seen are ones like video star (ios only), alight motion (android only), after effects (i recommend 🏴‍☠️ing it tbh, i only use it legally bc i had to use adobe programs for school), capcut, and i think some people still use sony vegas pro & maybe cute cut pro (i've heard it may have actually gotten better since i last used it in 2018)? i have no idea. programs also depend on whatever device you're using to edit on! since i've been using my laptop, i'm able to use after effects (it's computer-only), but when i used my phone/ipad to edit i used ccp & vs.

for the animation - it's a lot of cutting up the image and masking! more complex animations, like the one i had of leo walking down that red 'hallway' have several different layers that have been masked. (i removed the background & filled in the spot where leo originally was in two different apps - superimpose (taking leo out) & photoshop (filling in the bg)) in after effects, the way i've done this was mask out the specific thing i wanted to move (like an eye) and then put that mask on what i've called a "base" (not animated), and then stick a solid behind the base to match the color of the object. (some of my layers are not named appropriately; base 2 is the left arm & the four "SIX_[...]" layers are the mask/bandana tails)

an example of this would be for any of the eye blink animations i did! this (above) is the same shot, with and without the eye - since it's masked out and i have the background solid behind it, it doesn't look too unnatural/have a black outline/mass where his eye should be.

what it looks like without the solid layer behind it ^ (the red lines are from the null layers - ignore that)

this is what my timeline looks like if it's a more simplistic animation - the only five things being animated here are leo & raph's eyes. (there's only this many layers bc it's two characters in one shot & i was also animating their pupils - typically, an eye-blink animation is about 4-6 layers for me (solid, base, mask, & null to animate with, 6 if i'm animating both eyes & 4 if just one))

in after effects, there's this really cool tool called the puppet pin that one of my friends (lovingly) yelled at me for not knowing about - which. yeah fair she wasn't wrong it's SUPER useful in animating, provided you chop up your image first. if you don't it's a mess.

(separated by layer vs i should've really put the mask tails & leo's head on separate layers and didn't bc that was the 2nd to last animation i had to do and i was losing my mind bc i wanted to be done with the edit lmao)

the way people animate depends all on their style (there's two common ways to do blinking animation - having the anchor point at the bottom of the eye, or the middle of it) and the program they use. it's been a while, but i could probably tell you how to do some basic animations on videostar still even though i've been doing them in after effects for about 2-3years now. ALSO the best way to have an animation be noticeable is to over-exaggerate it/make them Big - which, yes, can mean 'breaking bones' and having the limbs be a little wonky at the start. (if you want it to be realistic though go Just to the point where it looks uncomfortable lmao)

uhm. again i am so sorry that this is so long i THINK this is everything? if not: my inbox/dms are always open if you ever want to ask more questions, wanna follow up on something, etc etc!! (also if you ever start editing please send me your edits!!! i'd love to see them <3)

#this got away from me im SO sorry (just put this in google docs out of curiosity. 1255 words. i am so sorry for the essay.) #uhm. ANYWAY YES like i said if you have any other questions feel free to reach out!!! i am always alway willing to help people out #with stuff like this!!! i can talk your ear off though if this wasn't enough proof of that /j #if nothing makes sense it's bc i'm responding to this at like. 5am my time. so. my bad if there's typos i'm so sorry #like i think i saw this ask at 4:40ish am and i'm still making sure i've got everything covered and its like 5:32am LMAO #me when i dont sleep bc i have no routine now #ask box pals #art creds in the screenshots to trubblegumm !! <- tagging to be safe #still in shock at the amount of positive feedback im getting from my bb!leo edit like oh my god you guys are incredible ilysm /p #sorry i discovered in the middle of typing out my tags that you can edit them now after you've hit enter where am i. #also this is offtopic so its down here but i am Not complaining about doing more motion graphics than actual editing. #a bitch has won two awards for their motion graphics at festivals and i've been doing them for a YEAR #(laughs in the first time i ever did a real one i won a student award. idk how. but i DID and i won the pro category this year <3) #it would be nice tho to do more editing for short films tho :( had a professor tell me i was good at it. #i should rly start using my camera and shoot my own stuff and edit it huh. maybe i will eventually i have a few ideas. #anyway. i need to stop rambling abt my experience as a film student and go to bed i apparently need to be up in the morning but idk WHEN

[minastras]

iii. breaking up is hard to do

prev • masterlist • next

words: 4.8k

warnings: none

——————————

You and Kai still hadn’t kissed since Yeonjun’s party months ago, when you were two weeks into your fake relationship.

That thought crossed your mind from time to time, and it crossed your mind again while you sat in the bleachers with Aeri and Yizhuo, watching your school’s soccer team go up against their rivals from AG High. It was the final match of the season, AG were the defending champions, and you were losing.

Until Kai scored a goal, putting both teams neck-in-neck. Even amidst the chaos of all his teammates huddling around him, cheering, and ruffling up his hair, his eyes found yours instantly. You beamed.

Throughout the game he’d missed every goal he attempted, and you could tell he was getting frustrated. His brows were low and his jaw was clenched, and he barely glanced in your direction. Now, he was glowing so bright you’d think they’d already won the championship.

“Did you see how Kai looked straight at you?” Aeri whispered to you, a wicked grin on her face.

“Shut up,” you whispered back.

They did win the championship, and Kai scored the winning goal.

All around you, the students in the bleachers erupted into cheers. Kai’s captain tackled him to the ground and his teammates piled on top of him, yelling and laughing. You let them celebrate on their own for a while, but when the other players’ friends and partners started making their way down to the field, you had to follow them.

The second he saw you he pushed past his teammates and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly. He was sweaty and out of breath, but you didn’t care.

“The MVP of the championship finals doesn’t even get a kiss?” Yizhuo teased.

Pointedly, you cupped Kai’s face in your hands and gave him a peck on the lips.

“Well, hello there,” he grinned, kissing the tip of your nose. His eyes shone with pride, and he couldn’t stop smiling as he basked in the glory of their win.

“That’s it?” Aeri baited, egging you on with a mischievous smirk.

“Damn. I remember when you couldn’t walk down a school corridor without finding Kai making out with someone inside an empty classroom,” Yeonjun joked.

You tensed up, praying Kai hadn’t noticed. You didn’t know if your heart could handle having to kiss him again properly. It took you two full weeks to get over the first one.

“Y/N’s different,” Kai said calmly, his hands still on your waist, speaking to the group but looking only at you.

The justification you’d both been giving all this time for the lack of PDA in your relationship, as opposed to all his previous flings, was that you were shy. And it was true. Sure, you flirted with people a lot, but you weren’t ever one to kiss and tell, and people knew that.

He had felt you tense up after all. You could tell from his eyes, sweet and worried and reassuring. Maybe it would’ve been less painful to just kiss him instead of having to listen to him call you different while he looked at you like that, knowing it was a lie.

——————————

You kissed (for real) the very next week.

For the first time that weekend, you were going to spend the afternoon at Kai’s house instead of him coming over to yours. You vaguely remembered visiting his house before, most likely for a party a couple of years back, but it didn’t look all that familiar to you when you arrived.

His parents were out of town, and you had expected him to seize the opportunity to throw a wild party because of it. But all he wanted to do was order fast food and have you over for a movie night, and you weren’t complaining. He had promised you that movie projector system in his basement all those months ago, right?

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Kai said, opening the front door and inviting you in. He realised the insensitivity of his words the second he said them, wincing slightly and giving you an apologetic look. You shrugged it off.

There was nothing humble about his abode. You were fairly sure his foyer alone, large and cavernous and grand, dwarfed your entire house. The long driveway bracketed by gorgeous flowered hedges and the front garden complete with a koi pond and waterfall feature had already rendered you speechless long before you stepped over the threshold.

You found such ostentatious displays of wealth gaudy as all hell, and you felt the same way about Azeri and Yizhuo’s houses. It was a wonder any of them, let alone all three of them, could turn out as normal as they did.

“Do you want a house tour, or-” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. He’d shrunken into himself, eyes glued to the floor and his broad shoulders rolled inwards, somehow appearing small despite his height and impressive stature. Awkwardness was a new look on him, at least as far as you knew.

“That’s alright,” you said. You actually did want a house tour (and to see his infamous basement, complete with movie projector system, retro arcade games, and mini bowling lane) but that seemed like the last thing he wanted to do. “Let’s just go to your room.”

So he led you up a coiling marble staircase with dark wood handrails, sturdy and polished, down a long corridor with more rooms than you could count. More rooms than were in your entire block of flats, it appeared. He looked embarrassed, almost ashamed, as you arrived at his bedroom.

When he finally pushed open the door and let you in, he couldn’t stop watching your expression. You knew this because you could feel his piercing gaze as you glanced around his room.

It was massive, more than thrice the size of yours, with an attached en-suite bathroom, walk-in wardrobe, and private balcony. He had a king-sized bed, a small sofa by the wide windows, and a large desk complete with a full gaming PC setup. Half of his bed was covered in stuffed animals.

“I like your plushies,” you said, before you noticed the wall above his desk.

Like he’d mentioned to you all those months ago, he had put up a collage of pictures of him and his friends, notes, letters, and the like. But there were pieces of memorabilia that were very familiar to you.

The first one to catch your eye was the photo you took of him at the botanical gardens, the one with the red leaf over his face as he stared mysteriously at the camera from behind it.

The second one was of you, also from the botanical gardens, except you weren’t aware it existed. You were facing away from the camera, a broad smile just barely visible in your side profile, your eyes wide while you admired the autumn leaves. When had he taken that?

You looked closer.

The receipt from Stackies, where he had paid for you and refused to let you pay him back. A recipe for crepes you’d scrawled on the back of a napkin for him one night while you cooked together for your little brothers. A polaroid of you and him taken on the field after his championship game, with your hands cupping his face and his hands on your waist. You were both looking at each other, paying no mind to the camera.

When he said you were different.

“This is a cute picture,” you complimented casually, trying to sound like your heart wasn’t aching. “Can I have it?”

“No! That’s my copy,” he refused. Ah, the perils of non-digital photography. He reached over your shoulder and pulled a different polaroid off of his wall, handing it to you. “Here, you can have this one.”

The polaroid was from Yizhuo’s party a while back, after most of the guests had gone home and you were helping with the clean-up. Kai was preoccupied with gathering used cups into a bin bag and you were trying to get his attention. You had on Kai’s student athlete jacket and were tugging on his sleeve.

It took a while, but you eventually remembered why: you had found an unbelievably embarrassing love note in one of the cups, perhaps written as a drunken confession. The folded piece of paper, a torn receipt stained with whatever had previously occupied the cup, was pinned between your fingers.

The photo captured the exact moment he turned around to look at you, his eyes falling to the sight of his jacket on your shoulders. The smile on his face was soft while yours was excited, wanting so urgently to make him laugh. Was that really how you looked at each other?

“Thank you,” you said, still studying the picture, running your thumb over its glossy surface. Finally, you turned back to Kai, who now seemed even more embarrassed than he was earlier.

“Yeah, don’t mention it. What do you want for dinner?”

——————————

You were drowning. In a mountain of stuffed animals.

“Can we move some of these to the floor?” you asked, moving a blue shark plush aside so you could lean back against the pillow behind you.

“No, they’re my children,” Kai said. “Why are we watching Ratatouille, again?”

“It’s a good film,” you answered, hugging one of his many teddy bears to your chest.

He laughed. “Okay, I guess I just thought we’d watch something more ro- conventional.”

You expected to be nervous, but you weren’t. It felt surprisingly familiar, lying on Kai’s bed with him as rain battered his closed windows. When he first hit play on his laptop, you two were barely touching. By the time the film ended, his arm was around your shoulder and your head was on his chest.

“That was a good film,” he admitted, somewhat begrudgingly.

“See? I told you.”

He was about to respond when a loud crack of thunder ripped through the room, scaring you half to death. You jolted at the noise. Somehow, neither of you noticed just how much heavier the rain had gotten. It was storming now, with howling winds and lightning repeatedly flashing across the dark sky, even though it was still early in the evening.

How were you going to get home now?

You pulled yourself out of the bed — which was difficult to do given the rocky terrain of stuffed animals on which you struggled to find purchase — and over to the window. Kai was right behind you, drawing his heavy cream curtains back with the push of a button. Automated curtains, you mused. Both interesting and wholly unnecessary.

“Maybe you should spend the night here,” he suggested, frowning at the way the rain fell in thick heavy sheets and the way the wind whipped so ferociously that even the biggest trees wobbled.

“I can’t leave my brothers by themselves,” you said, shaking your head, your fingers curled tightly around his windowsill. “The power in our building always goes out during storms and they get scared.”

Kai paused to think. “It’s still early,” he began calmly, trying to soothe you. “Let’s wait and see if the storm lightens up.”

He tried to distract you for the next hour, even offering you the house tour he so desperately wanted to avoid giving earlier in a bid to take your mind off the storm, but nothing worked. You weren’t really listening to him the entire time, constantly fidgeting with your phone and glancing out the window.

“It’s calmer now,” you mumbled to him, biting your nails. That was a bad habit from your childhood you’d mostly gotten over. Mostly.

The winds were nowhere near as ferocious as before, and the lightning and thunder had stopped. The rain was still heavy, however, and the storm was only going to worsen later that evening according to the forecasts.

“How are your brothers?” Kai asked quietly, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his side to comfort you.

“Scared. The power’s coming and going,” you replied, your phone pressed to your ear. If you weren’t so anxious, his gesture would’ve given you butterflies.

“I’ll send for a car while the road conditions are good,” he offered, half looking at you and half watching the rain outside. “They can spend the night here.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. Daeseong, the elder of the two, was only seven. “They’re kids. They’ve never taken a taxi without me before.”

“Not a taxi. I’ll call my driver,” he answered immediately, without a hint of hesitation.

You were speechless as he took out his own phone and began tapping away at it, only snapping back into action a full ten seconds later to call your brothers again.

Too anxious to talk, you passed the time helping Kai work on his current Lego project while he sang excerpts of songs you both liked to keep your mind off of the storm. As much as he could, anyway. He could see it in your eyes even when you tried to hide it from him.

Your brothers both arrived in one piece just as the storm began to pick up again. You fed them the leftover pizza for dinner while Kai set up the guest room, even changing the bedsheets for them.

He returned from upstairs once he was done and you were just finished with the dishes. “We can put them to bed now,” he said.

We? We? WE?

You ushered the two boys upstairs, with Kai staying silent as they squealed at the size of the house and how fancy all the furniture was. He watched on with amusement as you ordered them into the bathroom to change into their pyjamas and wrangled them into bed.

“This bed is softer than mine at home,” Daehyun whined. “I want this one.”

You shoved one of Kai’s stuffed animals into his arms so you wouldn’t have to explain the economics of quality mattresses to a four-year-old. He’d been complaining incessantly earlier about how much bigger Kai’s kitchen was compared to your own.

“I packed Daehyun’s bag for him. He’s too young to do it himself,” Daeseong told Kai proudly, eager to be complimented. You stifled a laugh, watching them from afar.

“You did? Good job, little man,” Kai praised, ruffling the boy’s hair. He was always so sweet with them.

The second your brothers were asleep and you were back in Kai’s room, you threw yourself at him with enough force that he stumbled back momentarily.

“Woah. Everything okay?” he asked with a light laugh, hugging you back.

“Yeah. Thank you,” you mumbled into the front of his hoodie before letting him go. Looking up at him, too exhausted to feel embarrassed, your gaze shifted down to his lips. “I want to kiss you, Kai.”

Again, just like at Yeonjun’s party nearly three months ago, he didn’t bat an eyelid. He placed a hand on your lower back and pulled you towards him. “Me too.”

You kissed him gently, tangling your fingers in his hoodie strings just to give your hands something to do. You remembered why you needed two weeks to get over the last kiss now; he was addictive, everything about him.

It was a bad idea to kiss him for any reason other than to add credibility to your fake relationship in front of witnesses — you knew that logically. That’s why you’d refused him the very first day he’d come over to your house. Then again, if logic was your strong suit you wouldn’t have been in a fake relationship with him to begin with.

When he pulled you back in for another, you didn’t stop him. His lips were so soft, his hands were so warm, and his cologne was just strong enough to be pleasant without being overpowering.

Like before, the way he kissed was slow and patient, not a shred of urgency detectable in his motions. He tilted your head back to deepen the kiss with a low hum, reaching under the hem of your jumper.

Not for the first time, you clammed up, splaying your fingers across his chest and pushing him away.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“I- I haven’t-” you were too nervous to finish your sentence, settling for gesturing vaguely to his bed instead despite knowing he was the last person who would make fun of you over something so trivial.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to,” he said. His ears were red.

By the time both of you wound down, the storm had eased up considerably. The drumming of the rain was still heavy enough to be audible through his closed windows and heavy button-operated curtains, but in the absence of vicious thunder or wind it was more soothing than frightening.

With Kai next you, though, you didn’t think you would be scared even if those were present. He had offered to sleep downstairs in the living room like the gracious host he was, but you’d wrapped your fingers around his wrist and asked him to stay.

And he did, turning off the lights and joining you under his duvet.

“Thanks for letting us stay over,” you whispered for the fourth or fifth time that night, resting your head on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady against your ear, above the backdrop of the rhythmic rainfall.

He kissed the crown of your head. “Of course.”

——————————

Kai didn’t understand how he went two and a half months without kissing you, because now that he had (and not for show this time) it was all he wanted to do. Every time he met you at your front door so you could walk to school together he was filled with an overwhelming urge to feel your lips against his.

“Daeseong and Daehyun love the plushies,” you told him on Monday morning. He’d let both of them pick their favourites from his collection and take them home the night of the storm. As you were showing him pictures of your brothers with their new toys, he caught a glimpse of the polaroid he gave you in your phone case.

His friends had asked him more than once why he never invited you over before then, or why the two of you were so much less physical than he normally was with other people. He usually just brushed it off with a comment about commute times or your shyness and left it at that, as unbothered and nonchalant as ever.

But when another soccer player in the year above him asked him if you were as good in bed as you were at flirting, Kai punched him in the face and got sent home early. No one ever mentioned the subject again.

“What’s with 53? Why does he keep glaring at me?” you asked Taehyun one day when he came to the bleachers for a water break.

Taehyun turned around. “Who, Hangil? Kai almost broke his nose. Didn’t he tell you?”

“What? No. Why?” you asked. Kai didn’t have a violent bone in his body; he hardly ever raised his voice, let alone a hand. Taehyun just grinned cryptically and returned to the field.

For the last two weeks, Kai hadn’t been able to get that night out of his head. The way you’d rushed to hug him after your brothers fell asleep, the sleepiness in your voice when you declared you wanted to kiss him, how naturally you nestled into his side as you slept.

If someone had told him a year ago that he’d be perfectly happy to go three months without getting laid just because of a fake relationship with someone he barely knew, he would never have believed them.

You continued coming to his soccer practices when you could, spending your afternoons doing homework by the field until you absolutely had to leave, and he continued coming over to your house for dinner to hang out with you and your brothers.

But something had changed, and you were acting differently.

He realised that when he kissed you in the bleachers after his practice on Friday. You were kissing him back, your hands in his hair like you didn’t mind his after-practice grossness (you never did), but he could tell you were distracted.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling away and reaching for your hands.

“You need to stop kissing me like that, Kai,” you sighed, staring down at your intertwined hands, at his thumb running soothingly over your knuckles. “I can’t- I can’t keep doing this.”

His heart sank. He stayed silent, not knowing what to say.

“I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore. You say this is just for your friends, but you put my brothers to bed and have photos of us up on your bedroom wall,” you mumbled, your voice so soft he could barely hear you. “I know I shouldn’t have kissed you that night, but at least at the start I could tell when you were pretending. I can’t anymore, and if we keep going like this I’ll break my own heart.”

His thumb stopped. “I- I like spending time with you,” he said hesitantly, his heart pounding in his chest.

That was the understatement of the century and he fucking knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to say what he refused to admit was true.

“That’s not an answer, Kai. Either we date for real or we break it off. I won’t be mad no matter what you choose,” you promised, shaking your head and pulling your hands out of his grasp. Your fingers were trembling. “But not knowing hurts too much. I’m sorry.”

The thought of you hurting, hurting because of him, sent a stab of pain through his heart. He didn’t know either. He didn’t even know what you were apologising for.

“Can we at least get to our 100 day anniversary?” he asked, his face twisting at his own demand before he’d finished his sentence like he was already aware he was being selfish. You stayed silent and reached for your bag.

His friends were right; he was immature. He wasn’t ready for this. He wanted nothing more than to grab you, hug you, and tell you he loved you. But he couldn’t.

What he ended up saying was, “Can I walk you home, please?”

An agonising few seconds passed of you looking at him without saying a word. He couldn’t read your expression, but it was the same one you’d had on at his championship game when he chose not to kiss you.

Finally, you spoke. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

He walked you home in silence. Your hands kept brushing accidentally as you walked side-by-side on the narrow pavement, neither of you daring to hold the other’s. Normally when you reached your house he’d give you a kiss goodbye. This time, you headed inside without even so much as a glance in his direction.

——————————

That was just about the last conversation Kai wanted to have with his friends before he talked to you.

After your fight (it felt wrong to call it a fight when neither of you had even raised your voices, but he didn’t know how else to describe it) on Friday, he hadn’t spoken to you at all over the weekend.

But he still picked you up from your front door on Monday and you both showed up at school together as if nothing had happened. In front of your friends he still wrapped his arm around your waist, and you still laughed at all of his jokes.

He pulled you aside at the earliest possible opportunity.

“Can we talk? Please?” he asked in a whisper, half-expecting you to just walk away.

You didn’t. “When?”

“After my practice today.”

Although you agreed then, you didn’t show up after school. He kept glancing over at the bleachers searching for you, trying to spot your trademark Rick Astley QR code laptop sticker throughout his practice. Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t playing very well.

“Kai! Get your act together or get off the field!” his captain shouted the second their third practice game ended as everyone else scattered for a quick break.

Kai gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut to keep his sweat from dripping into them, and bowed in apology before scurrying away.

“Why are you so out of it today?” Taehyun asked, frowning as he handed Kai his water bottle.

“I have a stitch,” Kai lied, pretending to double over in pain.

His captain’s call-out worked. Once he was convinced you weren’t going to come, he stayed focused enough on the game to not be singled out again. He wasn’t looking over at the bleachers at all, fighting every urge in his being not to think about you.

So he didn’t notice you when you turned up right when his practice ended until Beomgyu pointed you out.

“Where’s your stuff?” Kai asked as he jogged over to you. Really? That was the riveting question he was opening with?

“I went home first to get dinner ready,” you replied, explaining your lack of school bag and binder.

You had left and come all the way back to school just for him. For some reason, that made him feel worse. He sat down beside you, dabbing at the sweat on his forehead, still breathing heavily from practice. He couldn’t tell if you were angry or not.

“Uh- wait.”

He fumbled for his phone and opened his Notes app, looking for the two paragraph-long sappy idiotic stream of consciousness he’d written the previous night. His eyes glossed over it, and he understood then why his teachers were always yelling at him for not proofreading his essays.

“Kai,” you called, watching him stare at his phone screen. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

“Fuck. Yeah. I-” he looked at your face, then back at his phone. You didn’t seem angry or nervous or upset, just calm. Your hands were folded patiently in your lap, not fidgeting at all. He wanted to hold them.

I feel the same way. Why was that so hard for him to spit out?

“You’re right,” he forced out instead through gritted teeth. “Let’s break things off.”

You closed your eyes and turned away. I take it back, he screamed at you in his head.

“Why were you so nice to me?” you asked after a few seconds of silence, your voice starting to shake. “You did things you didn’t have to, things no one else was privy to. What was the point of all of that?”

Down on the field, his teammates were all packing up their things and getting ready to head home. Beomgyu stood around watching you and Kai talk, but Taehyun eventually managed to drag him away.

He glanced back down at your hands, now curled into loose fists in your lap, so he wouldn’t have to look at your expression.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N, but I’m not sure what else you expected out of this,” he said, his heart beating so fast he felt physically ill. “I hope we can still be friends.”

All he could think about was the pancake doodles on your calendar. When you took that photo of him at the botanical gardens. How you hummed quietly under your breath as you washed dishes together. Like you’d said, things no one else was privy to. The moments belonged only to you and him.

“I really liked you, you know,” you mumbled, picking at your nails and trying not to cry. “Before all of this started.”

It hit him like a freight train. You liked him? More worryingly, did he on some level know that in his subconscious? Had that been the reason he’d chosen to ask you, of all people, to pretend to date him? Had he used you?

“What-”

“I spent the last three months trying to figure out if you felt the same,” you told him, turning your phone over in your hand and unintentionally flashing him the polaroid in your phone case. He made the mistake of glancing down at it, at the smile on your face immortalised in the flimsy frame. How you looked at him with stars in your eyes.

“I guess I don’t have to wonder anymore,” you muttered.

It wasn’t like him to be speechless, but for all the words he was screaming at you in his head, he couldn’t get his vocal cords to cooperate.

He watched in silence as you strode across the field, taking long, brisk steps like you couldn’t get away from him fast enough. It was a cold night and you were just in your school uniform, and he wanted nothing more than to give you his jacket.

You had granted him a second chance and he tore it apart right in front of you. Why? All because he was too afraid to admit he liked you back?

——————————

thanks for reading!

-minastras <3

#txt #tomorrow x together #hueningkai #kai kamal huening #hueningkai x reader #hueningkai fluff #hueningkai angst #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt angst #txt series

[joka13]

FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 4

WARNINGS: unconsented kissing

"It's not that big of a deal," Maddy says as you walk with her down the hall to your next class.

"Oh, you're just saying that to make me feel better about it," you sigh. Detention, and on the first day of school! You can hardly believe it.

"Yes, I am," Maddy admits with a blunt laugh. "But at least you'll be having it with the twins, right?"

"I'm not so sure that's a good thing..." you mutter under your breath as Maddy is now distracted by another friend.

You're beginning to think that the Weasley twins are (surprise, surprise) a bad influence. Sure, you've had your share of naughty days before — you are a Slytherin after all —, but they were only ever for your own sake. And you've never been caught. That's the important thing. Today you took a risk trying to help someone other than yourself, and you got caught. At the time, breaking the rules with Fred and George felt simply natural, but now you can't remember what had possessed you to do it in the first place. You rack your brain for a reason. It's not like you know the twins personally. This morning's incident was your first real interaction with them. Still, some part of you wonders if maybe you did it for the twins rather than just with them. But in what way had you hoped it would benefit you? You aren't sure. Perhaps you truly are just desperate for some excitement in your life...

You've arrived at your next class: Divination with Professor Trelawny. You and Maddy sit yourselves down at a table in the back.

Amongst the students filing into the classroom after you is Malfoy. You grow nervous as he scans the room casually, and his eyes light up when they land on you. He smirks and starts toward you.

Your heartbeat quickens with anxiety. You silently pray with all your might that the open table next to yours gets taken before he can reach it. Fortunately, a couple of Hufflepuffs claim it, and you thank the heavens as Malfoy stops to turn and walk away with a disappointed look on his face.

You are able to relax for the rest of the class. Divination is the one subject that you don't fully understand — though you don't think most people truly can, even Trelawny if you're being honest —, so you usually enjoy it more than others. There's still more for you to learn, still some intriging mystery to it. Time flies by, and the class is over all too soon.

You and Maddy have lunch together. You munch on a sandwich and read over The Daily Prophet, along with some of The Quibbler. Not to your surprise, most of the gossip is still about last year's eventful Triwizard Tournament. You'd been lucky enough to witness the contest by simply showing up for school. The tournament by itself is worthy of discussing in the paper, but this time no one cares about who won or lost. You aren't exactly sure who or what you should believe, but many claim that He-Who-Must- Not-Be-Named made an appearance towards the end of the contest.

"Can you believe this rubbish?" Maddy scoffs, slapping her own copy of The Daily Prophet on the table. "The Ministry is doing a fine job of making a fool out of themselves. They seem so desperate against Dumbledore."

"Do you believe what Professor Dumbledore is saying?" you ask.

"I believe that You-Know-Who is back..." Maddy glances down at her wrist watch. "We had better get going. Class will start in about five minutes."

You gather your things together, and you and Maddy part ways outside the Great Hall's entrance. You head for Professor Snape's classroom.

You've just descended the stairs when Malfoy seems to appear out of thin air. He blocks your path, leaning against the brick wall coolly.

"Hi, y/n."

"Malfoy," you reply, nodding once, then try to move around him, but he moves with you.

"Please, call me Draco," he says. He gives you a smile that would seem friendly on anyone else, but you know he's up to something.

"Would you mind getting out of my way? Class will be starting soon."

"Potions I presume?" Malfoy turns his head to look back at Snape's door, which is about three yards down the hall. "Me too. Don't worry about it. Snape won't care if we're a bit tardy, him being head of Slytherin and all." He takes a step toward you. You grow fidgety as you realize that you and Malfoy are the only people left in the long, dark hallway.

"Well, I care if I'm tardy. So would you please—"

In one quick movement, Malfoy suddenly has you cornered, backed up against the wall with his hands on either side of you. You are trapped in front of him.

"I've missed you, y/n," Malfoy says quietly. Your heartbeat quickens. Your face is only mere inches from his. He looks down at your mouth.

"You don't even know m—!" Malfoy's kiss cuts you off.

You try to push him away, but he doesn't budge. You squirm and squirm to escape his grasp, but he holds you in place. You want to scream, but he kisses you again and again, and you soon find yourself giving up. You don't kiss him back, but you don't fight him either as he makes out with your unwilling lips. You hope that if you don't respond that he will eventually stop.

But he doesn't stop, so you pretend to enjoy it and kiss him back. Malfoy pulls you away from the wall and closer to him when you wrap your arms around his neck, his kisses growing in intensity. He moans softly as you weave your fingers through his pretty, blonde hair. You grasp a handful of it, and then you yank down as hard as you can.

Malfoy cries out in pain and backs away from you. You make a dash for Snape's classroom. Snape himself emerges from behind the door before you even reach for the knob.

"I heard a ruckus," Snape grumbles. A now greatly disheveled Malfoy comes trotting up behind you.

"She assaulted me, sir!" he says, pointing an accusing finger at you with one hand and massaging his head exaggeratedly with the other.

"No, he assaulted me!" You're practically shaking with furry. "So I hurt him in self defense!"

Professor Snape pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs heavily, as if to say that Slytherin house has never suffered greater embarrassment. "Come see me after class, Malfoy. Y/l/n, take it to the Headmaster." And with that, Malfoy follows Snape into the classroom and you are left alone out in the hall.

"I will, thank you very much," you huff, then start for Dumbledore's office.

#weasley twins x reader #george weasley #fred weasley #george weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader #weasley twins #fred and george weasley #fred and george #draco malfoy #wizarding world #reader pov #pov #fanfiction #fanfic

[forlorn-kumquat]

betrayal

also here on ao3

----------

“Miss Teagues, Miss Teagues! Mya called me a loser!”

Janine’s first instinct is to reply that what happens on the playground needs to be solved on the playground - it’s the one rule that’s consistent among all the classrooms, and the most reliable way of keeping recess grudges from following kids all around school. But then she looks at Emily’s face, at the tears streaking down her cheeks and the heartbroken expression she’s wearing, and she can’t just let this go.

“We’ll go talk to Miss Schemmenti at dismissal and get those whole thing straightened out,” she promises. “I’m sure Mya will be happy to apologize once she realizes that she hurt you.”

----------

Mya is not happy to apologize.

“But you are a loser!” she cries, glaring at Emily, while her former best friend glares back. “Miss Schemmenti said so!”

This is news to Janine and, from the startled look on Melissa’s face, news to her, too.

“Mya, I never said that,” she protests.

“You did, too!” Mya says, whirling on Melissa with a betrayed look on her face. “After the read-a-thon.”

Janine fights back a grimace at the mention of the read-a-thon. Melissa’s been bragging nonstop for the past three days and Janine is getting sick of having her last-minute defeat rubbed in her face.

Melissa grimaces, too, but for a different reason. “Oh, that,” she says, ruefully. “Mya, honey, remember when I said not to mention that to anyone?”

Mya shrugs, unconcerned. “I forgot.”

“Wait,” Janine says, slowly, “are you saying that you actually called one of my students a loser?” She can’t believe it; that’s not the Melissa she knows.

“No, of course not,” Melissa says, and Janine lets out a sigh of relief because that’s more like it. “I didn’t seriously call anyone a loser; I was just joking around.”

“Joking around, how?” Janine demands.

“You’re gonna laugh,” Melissa says, which Janine has heard too many times to count, and is pretty much a guarantee that she won’t. “Okay, so my kids were pretty bummed when they thought we’d lost the read-a-thon, and they were upset that your class won, and I said ‘If you're in Miss Teague's class, are you really a winner?’” Melissa shoots her a grin. “Funny, right?”

Janine is pretty sure she misheard that. Or she’s hallucinating. Because there’s no way that Melissa just said what she thinks she just heard.

“You said that?” Janine asks, just to be sure. “You actually said that about my class? About me?”

It hurts, more than she thought it could. She’s had crueler things said about her her entire life, by friends, by strangers, by her own mother and sister. But this feels like a knife in the heart.

“I was joking,” Melissa says, insistently, which really just twists the knife and makes everything worse. And Janine’s heard that one too many times to count, too.

“I’m not laughing,” she retorts, flatly.

Melissa heaves a sigh. “I’m sorry, okay,” she says. She sounds regretful, and for a moment Janine almost believes her. Then: “You weren’t even supposed to find out that I said that.”

That feels like a slap to the face. Melissa isn’t sorry about what she said; she’s just sorry she got caught. And if a lifetime of experience has taught her anything, Janine’s not going to get a real apology any time soon.

“I’m sorry, too,” she finally says. “Sorry I ever thought we were friends.”

#abbott elementary #kumquat writes

[iturbide]

Iturbide (Itu?) I cant stop thinking about this Agarthan!Claude AU ever since it got brought up IT ALL LINES UP?? SO WELL??? And could genuinely be such an interesting story, especially if you combine it with pissed Byleth AU Golden Attempt

Because? Whats gonna happen when/if Byleth succeeds and frees Claude? If Byleth is recruited on a Golden Wildfire route? It'd be so interesting to see how familiar Byleth acts and is with every other student...only to see how cold they become in comparison with Agarthan!Claude. Maybe even despite Agarthan!Claude's efforts, wanting to also gain the power of the Fell Star on the side of the Agarthans.

IT ALL REALLY DOES WORK SO WELL TOGETHER IT'S UNCANNY and also it gives me something to actually embrace about a route that otherwise looks pretty grim to me

Also please forgive how late this is, I hope that this is worth the wait

=====

Byleth had not meant to wind time back so far during the battle in Enbarr.  Even now they could not be certain why it had happened.  They recalled, with terrible clarity, Claude’s final moments, his parting words to them, the air around them going cold and still as time froze…and then the lurch as it wound backward, the flow too swift to parse -- until they bolted upright in their bedroll, gasping for breath in the sweltering dark and trying to get their bearings.

They had not immediately recognized the rustling beside them.  But they knew the voice that called out to them immediately, and felt their heart tighten as they turned to see their father rousing from his own rest to check on them. 

Their father, who had died almost six years prior. 

He seemed surprised when they embraced him.  He returned it, though, laughing gently and offering an easy joke about whether the girl in their dreams had finally managed to give them a fright.  And Byleth had agreed, if only because they had no idea what else to say or how to explain the truth.  Their father had returned to sleep.  And they had lain awake, staring into the dark until the sky lightened and morning finally arrived. 

They struggled for the first few days, trying to fit back into a life at odds with the one they’d been living in another time.  Their father worried, but seemed willing enough to accept that they’d simply had a nightmare that left them unsettled.  They’d never been prone to nightmares before, after all.  And every night, staring up at the canvas of their tent, they wondered what had happened.  Their best guess, in the end, was that the shock of Claude’s death had sent the goddess’ power spiraling out of their control, and in trying to undo a single attack, they instead undid everything: Edelgard’s war, the merge with Sothis, their father’s death…all of it, gone like a nightmare, leaving them to awaken disoriented and unsure of what was real. 

It was all real, though.  They were sure of that. 

Because Sothis remained.  

And she remembered. 

When they were able to steal moments to themselves, they talked with her in hopes that she might be able to fix their mistake.  But she only shook her head: time’s flow, she said, was like an endlessly branching river, and while her power could wind them back along the course once taken, it could not guarantee the same way forward once released.  They would simply have to live again, through all the events that had brought them to Enbarr in that looming future. 

So Byleth lived.  

There was a strangeness to reliving those long-forgotten days, fighting battles that they’d already won, clashing with enemies they had met once before and left either dead or defeated.  The purple-haired mercenary stirred no memory, but certainly caught their interest now when they summoned an unsettlingly familiar power to turn the tides of battle in their favor.  But they did not look or act like one of Solon’s cohorts, so Byleth chose to let them be, looking ahead to the day when they would pass through a quiet village called Remire and meet the students of Garreg Mach Officer’s Academy for the first time in this new life. 

But though their journey carried them to Remire, the night remained perfectly still.  The young Lords never appeared, and come morning their mercenary band set off toward their next job in the Kingdom. 

Sothis had warned them that there was no guarantee time would follow the same course.  And yet they had not expected the fight with Kostas to change.  Perhaps they should have, given how far back they had come. 

Still, they chose to wait and see what this new future might hold.  Perhaps they would go to Leicester once the war broke out -- the Alliance would certainly have need of mercenaries, when that time came -- and help him to chase his dream again.  Perhaps this time they would be able to block that fatal blow, push the Emperor back, and put a stop to her bloody conquest.  Perhaps they would have a chance to see what the world looked like after Enbarr, their allies and friends battered but standing ready to face the new day all the same. 

The war began, rumors and hearsay heard in snatches of conversation in towns they passed through on the way to other jobs.  Strange to think they had once ignored this, or never thought to wonder what was meant by talk of Seiros and the Goddess.  But the Archbishop did not go missing this time: instead the fall of Garreg Mach forced her and her closest allies to flee north to the Kingdom, taking refuge with King Dimitri of Faerghus.  And soon enough, the Empire called on them to take up arms against Adrestia’s foes, directing them toward the Great Bridge of Myrddin. 

Byleth had been sure, then, that they would soon meet their old friend.  He looked little different when they glimpsed him across the field: a change of clothes, a few younger than they recalled, but otherwise he cut the same figure they remembered astride a brown wyvern.  They felt a pang, hearing him order his forces to attack and kill them…but they reminded themselves that he did not know them in this life.  He had no reason to stay his hand. 

Three times they clashed.  The first, Alliance forces pushed them back, led by the purple-haired mercenary who had joined their fold; the second, the Alliance retreated, escaping only by virtue of that same sell-sword; and the third, the mercenary offered them a chance to join forces -- which they accepted outright. 

Once the conflict ended and the confusion stirred by their mid-battle alliance settled, they sought Claude out, eager in spite of everything to reach out to their old friend once more.  They greeted him in the way they always had, beginning in their days at Garreg Mach -- a warm sign, a ‘happy to see you’ and a hope that he was well. 

And he only stared at them without comprehension. 

The Creststone in their chest iced over along with their heart, the cold weight sinking down into their stomach. 

It was not Claude.  For all that it looked like him, sounded like him, seemed like him, it was not the man they had known, but someone wearing his face…just as Kronya had worn Monica’s to infiltrate the Academy. 

They spent the following days avoiding the imposter at all costs.  The sight of him made their blood burn with a fury they’d barely known themselves capable of.  They spent their time instead with other friends they’d known in that other life -- Lysithea, Marianne, Ignatz -- reminding themselves time and again that these were not the same people, in hopes that it would temper their familiarity somewhat.  It did not work as well as they might have hoped, judging by some of the strange looks their new allies gave them.  But it was not enough to scare them away, either.

No, the only thing that drove them apart was the appearance of the fake in their midst, attempting to insinuate himself into their company.  Byleth excused themselves the moment they heard his voice beside them, without sparing him so much as a glance. 

The rest of the former Deer seemed puzzled by that reaction.  But Byleth could not tell them the truth and expect to be believed, either. 

Through those friends from their other life, they learned what the imposter had done with his position of power.  The Alliance was gone, replaced by a Federation with Claude as its king.  He had allied with Edelgard before setting his sights on Faerghus, and even now sought the downfall of both Church and Kingdom alike without once questioning the Adrestian Emperor’s claims about either. 

It came to a head at Garreg Mach monastery, when the Leicester forces marched to reinforce the Empire’s position and push back the joint forces of the Kingdom and Church of Seiros.  In the aftermath, as Shez prepared to pursue Dimitri and Rhea north, Byleth moved to inform Claude and Edelgard…and overheard their plans for the future of Fódlan.  For Rhea’s death. 

They might have little love for Rhea, themselves, but Sothis was another matter.  Their sword was in their hand and covered with blood in the blink of an eye -- and as the Leicester and Adrestian forces descended upon them, time froze and wound back once more. 

They tried again. 

The mercenaries passed through Remire again without encountering the Garreg Mach House leaders.  The war came again, and when they met Claude on the battlefield, they held nothing back. 

Their father died by Shez’ blade while they sought the imposter’s head.

They tried again. 

Though it made their blood boil, they agreed to an alliance with Shez once again -- and at the first opportunity, grabbed the imposter, threatening him for information on where the real Claude was being held, every word ripped from their throat by the sheer force of their rage.  The stranger wearing their friend’s face only sneered, despite the sword at his throat.  “So the Ashen Demon does speak.  Here I thought killing was your only language.”

The pain of death did not convince him to speak.  In the end, it was blood rather than secrets he spilled at their feet. 

They tried again. 

When Shez called for a truce, Byleth agreed.  Rather than plan their attack, they dogged his steps instead, waiting for him to slip and reveal something that might point them in the right direction.  They shadowed his every conference with Edelgard, his every private moment, wondering when he would slink away to meet with Solon and his ilk…but he gave nothing away, even as Fódlan burned.

They tried again.

And again. 

And each time, the outcome remained the same. 

Once, desperate for something to change, they tried to wind time back beyond Remire, to where they first woke after the battle in Enbarr.  But Sothis stopped them, gently, because their power had limits: the fact that their first jump had not unraveled the timeline completely was a frank miracle to her -- but they could not expect such a miracle to grace them twice. 

They hated the words, even if they were true. 

The next time they found themselves in Remire, they told their father they had something to do.  He seemed surprised, and perhaps a bit worried when they told him they needed to leave the company for a while…but he let them go, all the same, only cautioning them to avoid a place called Garreg Mach. 

They smiled and promised him they would return as soon as they could. 

And now, after countless failures, they turned their steps toward Gronder Field, measuring their stride to Claude’s limping gait. 

They had finally accomplished what they set out to do. 

It was time to return home. 

#answered #anonymous #fanfiction #golden attempt #claude got bodyswapped by an agarthan #and byleth is pissed about it #fire emblem warriors: three hopes #fewth spoilers #kind of #i keep thinking about this okay #it has consumed my thoughts #and continues to do so #my writing output is just really slow #anon and ga!anon i hope you enjoy this belated though it is #snippets

[bmntgirl]

New Beginnings?

So this story is inspired by gglitch1dd’s post about Small town My Hero Academia. Honestly go read her story Sweet-bee if you like Kiribaku x reader; it’s amazing! I’ve reread it so many times.

So my story is loosely inspired (I made some changes but barely) and involves an OC. After reading her post and remembering the first season of Once upon a Time, I couldn’t get the idea out of my head and decided to write it. Very much just for fun and considering continuing it; I just don’t have the ending figured out.

Mostly fluff. Let me know if there is anything; triggers or errors.

Italics are thoughts.

Enjoy!

Summary: an unknown quirk sends all of UA and some others to a small town... in an alternate reality! No memories of their real lives and no quirks. A calm, peaceful life where everything is perfect. A bit too perfect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 A new life?

Lizelle holds Eri close under the desk as a villain rant and raves through the school’s PA system. The red feather necklace around Lizelle’s neck shake as Hawks sends his feathers throughout the building to find the villain.

Class 1A and 1B had gathered for a joint training session with most of their mentors also there to see the progress. Lizelle was there to keep watch over the students’ emotional states as they go through the course because of her quirk ‘Colourful Emotions’.

While she is Hawks’ personal assistant, she is a family friend of Present Mic and had been living with him and Aizawa since she was a teenager until she was old enough to care for herself. She had become close to the 1A class and Eri. And ever since working with Hawks, Mirko had become a good friend.

Everybody had gathered for the training session when something shook the building and a bunch of goons invaded the premises. Lizelle had grabbed Eri who was sitting with her and took cover under Present Mic’s desk while he went down from the presenter booth to join the fight. Then who they assume is the main boss started making threats over the announcement system.

Lizelle focused on the villain’s voice to hear the last part of his speech. He chuckled darkly:

“Aren’t you heroes tired of it all? Don’t you wanna live a normal life…?”

Lizelle gasped as she noticed a strange mist filling the room and everywhere else.

“… and leave the rest of us alone?”

Lizelle peeked over the over desk to notice all the heroes starting to faint. Her necklace stills and she knows it got to Hawks as well. She coughed trying to get the mist out. She heard Eri cough as well.

“Eri-berry, hold your breath.”

Both she and Eri hold their breaths but then a blinding light fills everybody’s vision before it went pitch black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lizelle groaned as she slowly opened her eyes. She looked around the bedroom while reaching for her phone to shut off her alarm. She yawns, stretches and runs a brush through her long golden blonde hair before making her way out, down the stairs and into the kitchen where Hizashi Yamada otherwise known by his radio show personality, Present Mic is busy cooking breakfast.

“Morning Uncle Zashi.”

“Morning Lizzy. How did you sleep?”

“Pretty well. One thing is for sure. The bed was not the reason for Shinso’s insomnia.”

Hizashi chuckled: “Glad to hear it’s not that at least.”

She smiled as she sat down.

“Thanks for letting me stay in Hitoshi’s old room for now.”

Hizashi smiled at her from the stove: “No problem. You know you are like my own daughter. I’ll always help.”

Lizelle smiled: “Why couldn’t you be my real dad?”

“Then I would to have had you when I was 9.”

“Well you were a flirt since you were young if Aunt Nem is to be believed.”

The two laugh at that.

“Yet I met my soulmate in high school and won him over,” He pressed a hand to his heart.

“More like you didn’t leave me alone.”

The two turn to see Shouta Aizawa walk into the kitchen carrying a very sleepy Eri.

“You didn’t exactly try to get rid of me. C’mon admit it, deep down you liked me.”

Aizawa shakes his head at his husband. He put Eri adjacent to Lizelle’s left before walking to kiss Hizashi.

“Zashi, the pancakes.”

Hizashi looked over to see the pancakes starting to look a little too brown. He quickly moved the finished pancake to a plate. Lizelle smiled at the cute scene before turning her head to the tired girl rubbing her eyes.

She gave a quick tickle to the little girl’s sides: “Morning Eri-berry.”

Eri gave a small shriek of laughter. Lizelle giggled.

“Morning Uncle Shou.”

“Morning Lizzy,” he sits down adjacent to Lizelle’s right.

Hizashi places the food down and greets his daughter with a kiss to her head.

“So what is your plan for today?” Aizawa asks Lizelle as they start to eat.

Lizelle shrugs: “Explore the town, look at living places, look for a job, maybe even visit Shinso on his break.”

“Y’know, if you can’t find anything, you are more than welcome to come help me or Shouta at our jobs.”

“Thanks Uncle Zashi but I don’t see how much help I’ll be at the Sheriff or Radio station. Thanks for the offer; I’ll definitely keep it as a back up.”

“Daddy, Papa, can I show Lizzy around town?” Eri asks with her mouth full pancakes.

“Eri, swallow before you talk,” Aizawa gently said while Hizashi jokingly presses her chin up, “I don’t know.”

“Oh come one Dadzawa,” Lizelle grinned, “Eri knows the town better than me and I can keep her safe.”

Aizawa sighed but looked doubtful.

“Babe this whole town knows Eri is the sheriff’s daughter and not to mess with her. Eri will actually keep Lizelle safe, especially if the League decide to be annoying today. They know not to mess with your family,” Hizashi reasons, “Besides Lizelle is right. Eri knows the town better and this way Lizelle won’t get lost.”

Aizawa sighs again, knowing Hizashi is right and that he is fighting a losing battle.

“Fine, you can show Lizzy around.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep each other safe,” Lizelle gave the little girl a side squeeze.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eri kisses and hugs her dads goodbye.

“See you two later.” Hizashi waves.

“Be safe,” Aizawa calls after them.

“We will,” Eri giggles.

“Bye Dadzawa. Bye Papa Mic.”

“Bye girls.”

The two girls set off down the street to the right in the direction of what looked like a school. Currently mostly empty since it was Saturday. Maybe some overtime teachers or sport teams, other than that a ghost place.

“That’s my school!” Eri excitedly points.

“Oh really? Remind me what grade are you in?”

“Grade 2. Mr. Togata is my teacher.”

“Wow you’re getting big,” Lizelle squeezes Eri’s left hand.

As they turn the corner, Eri spots something that makes her squeal. Lizelle tightens her grips when she feels the little girl wants to run. Standing outside the gates are two men who turn in their direction upon hearing Eri. Seeing Eri, the two men wave. Lizelle makes sure they get safely across the street. Only then does she let the little girl run to them.

“Hi Eri!”

The tall blond picks up the girl as she happily squeals.

“Hi Mr. Togata! Hi Mr. Deku!”

The green haired man next to them gently pats Eri on the head: “Hi Eri.”

The man Eri calls Deku turns to Lizelle. He greets her with small nervous smile.

“Hi I’m Izuku Midoriya, understudy to Mayor All Might.”

Lizelle shakes his hand.

“So Deku?” She asks curiously.

He shrugged: “A mean nickname I was given when I was younger. I’m trying to put a more positive spin on it.”

Lizelle nodded in understanding: “I get that.”

The taller blond shook her hand: “Hi My name is Mirio Togata. I’m Eri’s teacher.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Lizelle. I’m a family friend of Hizashi Yamada. I just moved to town and I’m staying with them till I find a job and my own place. Eri is busy showing me around town.”

“Well welcome to Yuuie,” Mirio says with smile.

“And if you’re looking for a job just to keep busy, there is always the Midnight and Fatgum diner/bar and B&B and the library are always looking for volunteers,” Izuku suggest, “If it’s more a specific profession, Yuuie has a lot of businesses. Sure you’ll find something.”

Lizelle nods gratefully: “Thank you. I shall look into those places,” she looks to Eri, “C’mon sweetie we still got a lot to see. Maybe we can even go visit your brother if we are there on his break.”

“Yay!” Mirio gently puts her down.

She grabs Lizelle’s hand again and they continue walking down the street waving goodbye to Mirio and Izuku.

Walking across the street they pass a park and start passing some houses. About halfway Eri points out the Mayor’s House with trees surrounding it. They cross the street and tree line into the second main street where by the looks of it, is the most action. People walk up and down, doorbells constantly clinging as people enter and leave.

Eri quickly tugs Lizelle to cross to the right of the street while throwing slightly nervous looks to the biggest building on the corner of the left block.

“Everything okay Eri-berry?”

“Daddy always says to avoid that place and be careful here.”

Lizelle looks at the building. Two shops occupy it; Shigaraki’s bar and Dabi’s tattoo parlour. It’s a little rundown but otherwise okay. Lizelle can’t help the negative feeling that reaches her, making her feel on edge. The place definitely looks like trouble. Or at least definitely not the place for a little girl to be.

A man walks out of the parlour. He leans against the outside wall and lights a cigarette. She can only see the tattoos under his eyes, jaw, neck and wrists but Lizelle is positive he is probably covered in them as well as multiple piercings.

Was the flame from his lighter blue?

He pulls the cigarette from his mouth and releases a puff of smoke. Through the smoke he catches Lizelle’s eye. He looks her up and down with his piercing blue eyes before giving a nod. Lizelle gives friendly smile in return and then focuses back on helping Eri across the street.

“New plaything?” a female voice asks from the door.

Dabi turns his head to the blond girl: “Nah that Aizawa brat was with her. Unless we want the Sheriff to strangle us we better not mess with what’s his.”

“Aw, not fair,” Toga complains. Dabi simply shakes his head.

At the corner Eri points to a building on the left block behind the building on the street.

“There’s Dadzawa’s work…”

Then she points to the slightly L-shaped building diagonally in front of the Sheriff’s Station.

“… and there’s Papa Mic’s.”

Lizelle nods.

They past the Post Office, an apartment building behind a small park and past another building they reach the Midnight and Fatgum diner/bar.

“Wanna a milkshake, Eri-berry?”

Eri’s eyes sparkle as she looks up at her: “Can we?”

“Sure. C’mon let’s go in.”

The bell rings as the two enter. They walk up to the counter and Lizelle helps Eri up. A beautiful girl with long blue hair comes walking out from behind.

“Nejire!”

“There’s my little berry. Your daddy called and said I’m off babysitting duty today,” the girl turned to Lizelle, “Hi, I’m Neijre Hado, waitress and the occasional babysitter for this little angel.”

“She is also the town’s resident beauty queen,” a large man comes walking out from the kitchen, almost squatting to get through the doorways.

“And this is Taishiro Toyomitsu otherwise known as Fatgum, best cook in Yuuie,” Nejire giggled, tapping the man’s belly, “And he knows it.”

The man gives a jolly laugh.

Lizelle smiled, enjoying the wholesome energy in this place.

“I’m Lizelle, I’m new and a family friend of this little one’s family.”

“Welcome to Yuuie Miss. We hope you enjoy your stay here,” Fatgum smiles warmly.

“Thank you,” she smiles back. He feels like an uncle.

“So what can we get for you?”

“I’d like a chocolate milkshake and some fries. You Eri?”

“An apple pie and strawberry milkshake please.”

Nejire winked at the two: “You got it.”

Fatgum moves back into kitchen and Nejire cuts out a slice of apple pie for Eri. She then hands a small A6 card to Lizelle, full of numbers.

Upon Lizelle’s confused look, Nejire explains: “Numbers of the business around here. If you are ever in need of a handyman the mechanics shop is the place to call and ask for Eijiro Kirishima. That mountain of man can fix anything.”

Lizelle smirked: “Mountain, huh?”

“Well he is Fatgum’s nephew.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

Nejire giggled: “He works at the shop with his cousin Tetsutetsu and it is owned by Mei Hatsume. That girl is genius with machines and Tetsu seems like he bend steel, almost has if…”

“He is steel himself,” Lizelle gets a weird look on her face before shaking her head. She lifts the page, “The others?”

“Right. The mechanics is behind the sheriff station by the way. Right next to us is the vet/pet shelter run by Tsuyu Asui and Koji Koda. Then across from us is Ojiro’s dojo and next to that we have our Electrician Denki Kaminari. He’s good but don’t worry if he shocks himself. It happens from time to time.”

At Lizelle concerned look Nejire quickly adds: “He’s fine. He is practically Pikachu by now.”

“As long as he is not Pichu,” Lizelle shakes her head.

Nejire laughs, tipping her head: “Well…”

Shaking her head, she continues: “I’m assuming you walked past the school? And of course where the sheriff and radio station is?”

Lizelle nods: “Eri also pointed out the Mayor’s house to me. And the bar and tattoo parlour I was warned from.”

Lizelle gently pats Eri on the head.

Nejire nodded with a tight mouth: “Yeah the league… aren’t bad but they are trouble. So best to try stay away as much as you can.”

Lizelle raises and eyebrow: “The League?”

“The League of Delinquents.”

“I saw a man with tattoos and piercings smoking outside the tattoo place.”

“That’s Dabi. He seems chill, but you don’t want to piss him off. He has an affinity for arson. The one you really have to careful around is Shigaraki. He runs that place and the league. Also Toga; she’s a blonde girl with sharp teeth. She has a weird fascination for blood and sometimes gets a little stab happy. So just be careful.”

“And Shigaraki?”

Nejire shudders a little: “Trust me you’ll know. He just seems dangerous.”

Lizelle nods. Geez you guys go on about these guys like their villains.

Nejire puts back on her smile: “Anyways, we also have Rikido Sato’s bakery, Hanta Sero’s restaurant, Tamaki Amajiki’s flower shop; that’s Fatgum’s adopted son and Mirio’s Boyfriend.”

Lizelle raises her eyebrow with a smile: “Ok cute.”

Nejire giggled: “And both are my boyfriends.”

Lizelle gasped: “Lucky you! Kinda jealous. Of you and them.”

They both laugh.

“You?” Nejire bends her hand at the wrist in a silent question.

“I’m…” Lizelle snaps her fingers into a finger gun/thumbs up and peace signs.

“Ah,” Nejire nods in understanding, “Ok then there are the builders (that are behind Denki and Ojiro’s places), the library’s number, if you want to shop wood personally the lumberjack office; ask for Rumi. She is the boss and she is one the people who knows the woods the best. Mina Ashido’s hair salon, Yuga Aoyama’s Twinkling Styling Palace; it’s mostly a clothing shop but Mina, Toru Hagukure and Aoyama together are a styling dream team. They helped me with the beauty pageants. We also have the Yaoyorozu’s Properties, the gym, the Bank of Iida, the Todoroki Supermarket, and Yuuie Hospital and of course the town hall.”

Nejire juts her thumb to Eri: “Your little tour guide here knows where everything is.”

Lizelle smirks at Eri: “And why do you know everything?”

Eri giggled, finishing up her milkshake.

Nejire smiled: “Sheriff Aizawa wanted to make sure if anything happened, Eri knows all the safe places to go to.”

Lizelle nods with a small smile: “That sounds like Dadzawa.”

As the two finishes up, Lizelle pulls out her wallet. Fatgum quickly pops through the window.

“Uh uh, It’s on the house.”

“You sure?”

“Of course, especially for my favourite customer,” He winks at Eri with broad grin.

Lizelle grins: “Thanks for everything. The food was delicious. And thanks for all the info Nejire.”

The blue haired waitress waves at her as they exit.

Eri points out Ojiro’s dojo and Denki’s Electrics across the street and the vet next door to the diner. They cross the town square over to the library with a clock tower on top of the corner of the building. Across the street at the corner was Sato’s Bakery and next to it Sero’s Restaurant. Next to them was Mina’s hair salon and connected to it Aoyama’s Twinkling Styling Palace.

Lizelle giggled at the name.

Next to the library was Yaoyorozu’s Properties and on the corner Amajiki’s Flower shop.

“Wanna stop by the library real quick? I want to ask the librarian something.”

Eri nodded and the two headed in. Lizelle sighed in relief at coolness compared to beating sun outside. There was a little dark haired girl with purple eyes a few years older than Eri sitting in a dark corner reading by a low light. A dark haired man with Goth makeup came from the office behind the desk. Eri waved to him.

She gave a whispered greeting: “Hi Tokoyami.”

“Hi Eri,” He whispered back in a pretty deep voice.

Huh this man’s makeup makes him look like crow or raven. Cool.

“Hi, I’m Fumikage Tokoyami, how can I help?”

“Oh hi! I’m Lizelle, I’m new to town. I was wondering with there are any positions open here.”

Tokoyami shook his head: “Not at the moment, but if you don’t mind working part time, we always accept volunteers. On certain days we are busier, especially when exam season comes.”

Lizelle nods with a smile: “Yeah I don’t mind.”

Lizelle gives Tokoyami her contact information. Lizelle waves Eri over for them to leave. Lunch is soon if they want to make it on time for Shinso’s break. Tokoyami hands Eri an apple with small smile. The two wave goodbye. As they leave they hear Tokoyami talk to the other girl:

“Shadow, do not read by such a low light. It is not good for your eyes.”

“But I don’t like the bright light!”

Lizelle smiled as the door closes. Must be brother and sister.

Lizelle and Eri continue down the street. They stop outside Tamaki’s flower shop to smell some of the flowers outside. Lizelle looked at bouquet of white and red roses with a smile on her face. She always liked the beauty more than the smell. Mostly flowers smell like plants to her. There are very few flowers’ smells she actually likes.

Lizelle looks from smiling at Eri to through the window when she spots movement from her peripheral vision. Just in time to see an indigo haired man duck out of sight. Lizelle tilts her head to side. He peaks around but ducks back upon noticing she is still looking. Lizelle gives a small smile at the man’s shyness. She offers him small wave before ushering Eri along.

They turn right to the main street. Then a turn left to walk to the hospital. Walking in, up to the front desk, Lizelle asks if Dr. Hitoshi Shinso is on his break. The woman about to ask the reason why she wants to see him, spots Eri. She smiles and waves the two on ahead while giving directions to his office. Eri leads the way.

Knocking on the door, Lizelle hears Shinso’s tired: “Come in.”

“Hey doc, got time for lunch?”

Shinso looks up and smirks: “Hey Lizzy. Hey Eri!”

Eri runs up to him and he easily picks her.

“Yeah sure lunch. We can do that.”

The three sit down in the cafeteria.

“So you enjoying your time here so far?” Shinso asks around the bad cup of coffee.

“Oh yeah this place is great. Everyone is so friendly. Well mostly everybody.”

Shinso frowns, confused before he asks concerned: “You didn’t run in to the league did you? Dadzawa would have their heads.”

Lizelle shakes her head: “Not really. Just saw one of the members. Nothing happened.”

“Ok good. How’s the living situation?”

“Pretty good. Thanks for okaying the use of your room.”

“Sure.”

“Other than that, it is nice. But I would like my own place.”

Shinso gets a thoughtful look: “And a roommate?”

“I wouldn’t mind a roommate. Helps with rent and stuff.”

“How about...” Shinso puts down his cup, “You move in with me?”

“At your apartment?”

“Yeah the apartment building next to the Post office. I have a spare room/ loft. Also I’m barely home because of the hours at the hospital. It will be more like your apartment and I crash there.”

Lizelle giggles: “I know you can’t help it but you should stop overworking yourself.”

He shrugs: “So what do you say? Once you get a job you can start helping with rent if you want to, but you don’t need to. I make more than enough with a doctor salary. Besides I can’t help much cleaning wise and stuff, so the least I can do is pay the rent.”

Lizelle sighs: “Hitoshi I can’t expect you...”

Shinso holds up his hand: “I want to. I have no problem paying the rent but it’s going to waste because I’m barely there. So whaddya say?”

Lizelle thinks about: “I mean free place, not too far from Eri-them, nearby possible work place...”

Shinso smiled and sat up to reach into his pocket.

Lizelle looks up as she makes her decision: “Ok sure I would love to. Oh!”

She backs a little when she found keys in front of her face.

“Here are the keys to the apartment building and my flat. Go take a look at it. If your decision is completely final we can go make you a copy.”

Lizelle takes the keys and smiles gratefully at Shinso: “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

Shinso just smirks: “It’s not a problem. You’re family. If we switched places you would have done the same.”

Lizelle nods: “True.”

When his break was over, Lizelle and Eri say goodbye and head back. They stop by the park for a bit while Eri plays with some of her friends.

Lizelle stands at the edge to watch Eri when a siren rings through the air. Lizelle jumps and looks behind her to see Aizawa climb out of the sheriff car.

“What’s with the siren?”

“Easy way to get your attention.”

Lizelle smirks: “Well you got it. Here to arrest me officer?”

Aizawa chuckles: “So how is everything?”

“Great. Eri showed me around, I have places for possible jobs and I have a place to live.”

Aizawa raises an eyebrow.

“Shinso offered me his flat because he is barely there because of his hours and the rent is technically going to waste.”

Aizawa sighs and shakes his head: “That boy works hard. Too hard sometimes. I told him he is more than welcome to stay at home. He didn’t listen.”

“Sometimes people gotta learn by bumping their own heads even when you wanna protect them.”

“Unfortunately. So his apartment?”

“Mhm. He gave me the keys to go check it out. Then we will make my own copy.”

Aizawa nods: “Alright. I can take Eri off your hands if you want.”

Lizelle shakes her head: “Nah that’s okay. I’m good with taking care of Eri for the rest of day.”

“You sure?”

Lizelle nods.

“Ok. Well I got to get back to work. Eri!”

Eri runs over with excitement. The two hug.

“I’ll see you two later tonight.”

“Bye Daddy!” “Bye Dadzawa!”

Lizelle let’s Eri play for a little while longer before they head for the apartment.

Outside parked on the street was a gold motorcycle with red wings and the words ‘Fierce Wings’ on the side. Lizelle nodded impressed before opening up the front door and letting Eri through.

At the mailboxes in the wall stand a man a couple inches taller than Lizelle with feathery blond hair. He wore a tan jacket with two red wings printed on the back, continuing onto the sleeves. Considering he was putting packages and letters into the mailboxes with a big bag slung across his body, Lizelle assumed he is the mailman and that the bike outside is his.

Lizelle started up the stairs.

“Hi Mr. Hawks,” Eri greets the man.

He turns slightly to greet her, only slightly seeing Lizelle before she disappears up the stairs.

Hawks blinks slightly before shrugging.

Eri joins Lizelle as they go to the third floor. 3A, here it is.

She unlocks the door and lets Eri in first. It was small but decently sized with a lot of woodwork. Lizelle snorted. This is very cottage-core. Too much for you, Shinso. But the rest of the apartment was more Shinso. Minimally decorated with just the basic essentials aka – does anybody even actually live here? Oh and coffee.

The place was in good condition from just a brief look, just a bit dusty and dirty, Lizelle noted. Eri showed her around while Lizelle smiled at how cute Eri was. Up the stairs were the loft and the other bedroom. Once again minimally decorated and mostly empty.

“Are you gonna stay with Toshi from now on?”

“Uh yeah, I think I am,” Lizelle sits next to her on the bed, noticing a slight twinge of sadness from Eri even though her face doesn’t say anything.

Lizelle slightly bumps shoulders: “Don’t worry; I’m still going to see you all the time. Who do you think is gonna babysit you?”

She nuzzles her nose against Eri’s playfully, grinning at Eri’s giggle, sadness gone.

The two lock up and leave, bring Shinso’s keys back for him and head home.

Seeing nobody else home yet she decides to get head start on dinner. She hears Eri watching TV and by the sound of it, it was some superhero anime. Lizelle smiles as Eri cheers for the heroes. Considering the back story of Eri, it’s no wonder she has a great love for heroes. Lizelle growled slightly, thinking of Eri’s past. If I ever get my hands on that abusive foster father of hers... Thank goodness Mirio had noticed the signs of something wrong at her house; first the wounds on her arms, explained away by saying she’s reckless and clumsy even though Eri was the gentlest and most careful of all the kids in his class; and second Eri’s hesitancy to go home. Mirio got Izuku involved and using his high position in town along with some others’ help including the Deputy Mayor Mirai Sasaki, they were able to save Eri.

Lizelle had heard the story from Shinso and Mic. She was happy to meet two of Eri’s saviours today, but didn’t want to say anything in front of Eri in case of trauma triggers. Lizelle quickly focuses back on the food to avoid burning it. She giggles as she is reminded of this morning with Mic and the pancakes. No wonder people who don’t know us think we are related.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After dinner and telling Mic and Aizawa about their day, Lizelle helps Mic wash up as Aizawa takes Eri upstairs to get her ready for bed.

“So which job do you think of going after?” Mic asks as he dries the plates.

“Well Tokoyami from the library has my contact details if he ever needs my help, but I am thinking of maybe doing some part-time at the diner and maybe somewhere else as well. At least like secretary or cashier considering I don’t have the skills to help at the other aspects of the businesses here.”

Mic nods: “Well, that sounds good. After all you won’t have to worry too much about money with the rent being Shinso’s responsibility and you do need the time to work on your real career. But hey...”

Mic puts a gentle hand on Lizelle’s shoulder so she focuses on him.

“... Don’t go throwing yourself out there and stressing yourself out too much. I know you and I know that’s what you’ll do. You are away from your family. You have no one to prove yourself to here and us to support you. And don’t listen to those negative little voices inside your head because you know those are your family’s words and thoughts, not your own.”

Lizelle smiles and gives Mic a hug: “Thanks Papa Mic.”

The two finish up and retire for the night. Everything here is perfect...

A little too perfect.

#mha #bnha #small town au #erasermic #mha aizawa #mha present mic #mha hawks #mha fatgum #mha midnight #mha mirko #mha eri #mha tamaki #mha mirio #mha midoriya #mha bakugou #mha todoroki #mha kirishima #mha kaminari #mha shinso #mha iida #mha uraraka #mha asui #mha sero #mha mina #mha momo #mha jirou #mha hagakure #mha ojiro #mha shoji #mha tokoyami

[1950-hatter-critiques]

Protagonist-Centered Morality is a trope in which the protagonist of a story is portrayed as inherently good and deserving of success, regardless of their actions or the consequences of those actions. Even if they haven't tried, or someone might be more deserving, the protagonist will succeed anyways, because Good Guys Always Win, & this trope says that the protagonists are good guys.

Now, the reason I bring this up is because I loved Totally Spies when I was growing up. My favorite was Clover, & I wanted to be her so much. I loved when things worked out for them in their personal lives. But, now that I'm older, I realize that it's unrealistic & that other people were probably far more deserving of the success that was just handed to The Girls, & I'd be super frustrated if I was them. Note: Sam, Clover, & Alex shall henceforth be collectively referred to as The Girls.

Season 1

Model Citizens: My problems in this episode start with the beauty pageant. First, it should have required a lot more than just writing your first name on a sign-up sheet to be officially entered in the pageant. They should have at least required a last name. Second, Clover shouldn't have even been a finalist, let alone the winner. I, personally, think Clover shouldn't have been officially entered. The pageant provided a photographer, which implies that having that photographer take your picture is an important part of the pageant. Since Clover left immediately after signing up & didn't stick around to get her picture taken, she should not have been considered to be officially entered in the beauty pageant. She doesn't even return to Beverly Hills until the pageant's over. There is no way a real beauty pageant would have picked her as the winner. It's just an insult to people who actually put work into beauty pageants & modeling.

Silicon Valley Girls: Clover is replaced by Mandy as Student Court Judge. Student Court is a system at Beverly Hills High that decides punishments for students caught violating the dress code. Clover was fired for being too lenient, especially with Sam & Alex. Supposedly, Mandy was abusing her power & failing to actually enforce the school dress code. This lead to her being removed as judge & forced to pick up trash as The Girls watch & laugh. But, when we see her after The Girls' mission, she's getting on Clover for having the middle button on her shirt undone, (Clover was wearing a cropped button-up that only had 3 buttons), which would violate any dress code I've ever been subjected to. Threatening to sentence them to pick up trash for 6 weeks is a little harsh, but it's probably not the first time Clover's violated the dress code, and Sam & Alex would probably make a scene about Mandy being unfair.

Queen for a Day: I consider this to be an example because, even though Clover had to date Arnold for a day, she still won Homecoming Queen, even though everyone liked Mandy better at the beginning. Plus, her reign as Homecoming Queen will last a lot longer than the one day she had to date Arnold, so it's hardly an issue. Clover can still rub her victory in Mandy's face every other day, which is a big win.

Wild Style: My only problem with this episode is that Max saw Clover's face right before she knocked him out, but didn't recognize her as the one who knocked him out. That's usually something that sticks in your mind. I mean, he did get to look at her before she knocked him out. I can understand Max not wanting to date tall girls now, but he also shouldn't have been wanting to date Clover as she's the one who knocked him out. This is a situation where it shouldn't have worked out for Clover or Mandy, with Mandy rightfully blaming Clover.

Do You Believe in Magic?: I do have a problem with The Girls accusing Mandy of sabotage, but I'll discuss that in a different post. Onto the relevant problem: The Girls' light-damaged photos shouldn't have won. While it is interesting to emphasize flaws instead of hiding them, the light damage makes it hard to see details, even in the close-ups of The Girls' faces. A photography contest should award people with actual skill or talent in photography. The judges admit that Mandy's photos are technically marvelous, & likely would've awarded her first place if Word of God didn't require that The Girls have good things happen to them as much as possible. Also, it's not fair to call Mandy's photos "commonplace" when she's clearly making use of props & outfits that the other contestants just don't have.

Season 2

Starstruck: Clover & Mandy both want the same modeling gig. I consider this an example because even though Clover didn't get the modeling job, the ad was super humiliating, which made Clover glad she didn't get it.

I Want My Mummy: Clover may not have won the contest, but she did get to see Mandy's victory get stripped away in front of an audience, which is definitely a win for Clover. Having Mandy's ring turn out to be fake was clearly just a way to make sure she didn't win, & also unrealistic considering there's no way Mandy wouldn't have had her ring verified.

Here Comes the Sun: David had already finished painting Mandy when Clover finally got back, & it's not that easy to cover up an entire portrait. Also, if he wanted to paint frustration, Mandy could've definitely been frustrated. She's apparently very good at posing, as seen in 'Model Citizens'.

Season 4

Alex Gets Schooled: I find it hard to believe that Mandy could get all F's. Her mom seems pretty strict about her grades. Plus, Mandy is often determined to prove that she's the best at, well, lots of things. Someone that determined to be the best wouldn't allow herself to have such horrible grades. Also, report cards usually have the student's name on them, so Alex & her parent's should've noticed the mixup right away. I'm considering this an example because they got to revel in Mandy's misfortune.

Mani-Maniac Much?: There is no way Clover could've won the modeling contest without a Mega Mani Mania manicure. The salon could be opening themselves up to a false advertising lawsuit if they're not able to provide the exact same manicure the model has. Not to mention, her nails were, like, two feet long. Who wants nails so long that you can't use your hands? I'm not saying Mandy should've won, but Clover definitely shouldn't have.

Season 5

Evil Professor: It's not fair for The Girls to be possessive of jobs they didn't want & think are lame. Also, I'm pretty sure that a decent manager wouldn't fire employees that are actually working & are happy to be there in order to re-hire employees that complain, left early on their first day, & called out on their second. I don't care if they gave him a giant bean, he should've stuck with the employees that are actually working.

Ho-ho-ho-no!: When the snow floods the dorm & Mandy's presents get washed away, exactly how far are they going? Why isn't she going after them? We've seen what she'll do for designer clothes, there's no reason she wouldn't be running down the stairs to go get them. This is an example because The Girls got to see Mandy cry & the presents the gave her in the rigged Secret Santa exchange got washed away.

Season 6

Dog Show Showdown: There's no way anyone would be fooled by Oinky acting like a dog. He is clearly a pig, & no amount of training is going to change how he looks. The Deans are very smart, they should've seen right through that. I mean, Oinky has hooves.

Inferior Designer: I already made a post about this episode, but I'll summarize. Clover is terrible at fashion design & should NOT have gotten an 'A'. She also should've been dropped from the class a long time ago. Sam, Alex, & Mandy are all better at fashion design than Clover & should've gotten the best grades.

Clowning Around: I don't think it was fair of them to use the evil clown makeup on Mandy. Also, I think the Deans should've at least looked at her proof. I mean, they asked her to spy on them, they should look at what she found. It's not fair for the Deans to refuse to look at what Mandy found just because she's made up like a clown.

Phew! Sorry about the long post, I just have a lot to say. I would like to point out that I don't hate Totally Spies or The Girls, I just don't think it's good writing to have your protagonists come out on top just because Word of God says so. Your protagonists should have good things happen to them because they worked for them, not because "good guys always win." That's just lazy & unrealistic.

#totally spies #clover #sam #alex #mandy #arnold #meta

[greyeyedmonster-18]

Good Sportsmanship

"Good game, Potter," Marlene said, approaching James at a run as they made their way towards the locker room, her hand colliding sharply with James's arse. "We won!"

"Did you just--" James looked at her in shock, only seeing blurry blonde hair having taken his glasses off, his goggles resting on top of his head, "smack my bum?"

"Yeah," she grinned broadly, "Saw a muggle rugby match and thought I'd give one of their things a go."

"Muggles are so weird," James told her, "But also right. That was oddly comforting and supportive. Like a real team."

"Well, now you just made it weird, you really need to have a shag, babes."

"I do not!" Marlene gave him a look, "Okay, well, that's beside the point! We're making this our tradition," James matched her grin and reached down to smack Marlene on the arse, loud laughter echoing through the locker rooms. "Good game, McKinnon!" James shouted before moving to his keeper who was already out of his Quidditch robes and heading towards the showers, smacking him lightly on the bum, "Good game, Fawley!"

"What the hell, Potter?"

"It's our new tradition!" James exclaimed, Marlene, laughing wildly in the background, before also hitting Fawley on the arse and moving to different members of the team herself.

"Good game!"

"Good game!"

--

"Mr. Potter, what is going on!" Professor McGonagall shouted, her voice shrill as she walked quickly across the pitch, looking out of place without Quidditch attire on. James and the rest of the Gryffindor team had lined up next to Hufflepuff, and he--as Quidditch Captain- initiated the first-ever line of butt-slaps on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. The Hufflepuff team wasn't sure what was going on, confused as the line started, but the enthusiasm was contagious, the rotation continuing for longer all of the players going twice, the stands filling with raucous cheers. "Stop this foolishness!"

"We won, professor!" explained James, breaking away from the line, "We're being good sports!"

"I fail to see how this has anything to do with good sportsmanship, Potter."

"The muggles do it! I didn't get it at first either, but it's really something you have to experience, you're welcome to join, Professor if--"

"Are you propositioning me, Potter?"

"No, I'm just suggesting that you...get...your arse..smacked by other students--see now that I'm hearing it a second time, I get it. Uhm, so I'm free...Monday? For detention?"

"Off the pitch."

"Good game, though, right?"

"Good game, Potter."

--

Sirius waited for the perfect moment to talk to James. Thursday because that was his favorite day of the week, and they had Shephard's Pie for dinner, which was really just opportune timing. Thursday they had Charms last, which was James's favorite subject, and it was also the day Quidditch practice went a touch longer. On Thursdays, James was the last to arrive back to the dorm, and Sirius planned to be waiting for him in bed.

And he was, as soon as James got out of the shower, he flopped onto Sirius' bed, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Did you have a good day?" asked Sirius, mimicking the position and rolling to his side. He could hear Remus snort from his four-poster before muttering something about going to shower to get away from this bullocks.

"The best day," James responded, diving into the details of his day from the personal best on his cool-down lap around the pitch to the letter he got from Mum at breakfast, and are we going home for Easter break or staying? and Lily sat next to me at lunch hour today, did you see? She didn't even hex me, and I think she laughed at one of my jokes.

Pillowtalk wasn't necessarily out of the ordinary. More often than not, Sirius and James shared a bed--usually Sirius's because James couldn't bother to make his-- and always ended every day of the week talking bout their days. Sunday nights were the longest, by far, usually involving stolen snacks from the kitchen and trying to convince Remus and Peter to join in.

Padfoot, you take up most of the bed, where would you like me and Peter to sit.

Today, however, pillow talk was a tactic and Sirius would apologize for it later. Because he knew how to get what he wanted from James Potter.

"So I've been thinking," Sirius started and James nodded intently, "We've been spending less and less time together. You know, with sixth year and our class schedules don't align as well--"

"Tell me about it. Mondays and Wednesdays are terrible when you're in Arithmancy and Astronomy. What am I supposed to do during my free period?"

"Too right, and Tuesday for me during Care of Magical Creatures? Bloody awful."

"We should petition."

"Or, you know, I was thinking...because a lot of your free time is spent playing Quidditch that...maybe I could join? You're always saying I'd be a good beater, and I know the teams full but it doesn't hurt to have a backup and--"

"Are you having me on?!"

"No, I'm so serious, mate. And just think of all the time we'd get to spend together. I'm more than happy to uhm...sit out during games because the--"

"Are you kidding me? I'll bench Dawson in a heartbeat, he's got shit aim and put you in. You'd have to try out of course, I don't want to be accused of favoritism--"

"Of course not."

"But you're on the team!" James sat up excitedly, leaning to kiss Sirius on the side of the face and Sirius immediately shoved him a little, "This is officially the best day ever, I'm going to write Mum and--" but James paused, "Hold on. I've been asking you to try out for years."

"You know I take time to come around to things," Sirius offered easily.

"Yeah, but you always say that you don't like playing and," James gasped, "Is this because of the butt-slapping?" he asked and Sirius bit back a smile, "It is, isn't it! You want in!" James punched him on the shoulder and Sirius laughed, "Tosser!"

"Obviously it's because of this weird arse-smacking thing!" Sirius told him and sat up, putting his hands on his best friend's shoulders, "I need this."

"I can't just let you on the team because you want to grab at other people--"

"Mostly Turpin from Ravenclaw, but sure," Sirius shrugged, "Who cares why I want to play. Point is, I do and are you really going to turn down this opportunity," Sirius gestured to himself, "To use me for my body--"

"I value you, for the record. You're more than your body."

"Thank you, love," Sirius continued without skipping a beat, "because of a technicality? Because I might be interested for the wrong reasons?"

James sighed, "No, I'm not, and you knew that."

"I did."

"Arsehole."

Sirius grinned, "I love you, so much."

"You still have to try out."

"Of course." Sirius nodded and James scowled at him.

"That was rude of you. I really thought you wanted to spend more time with me."

"Mate, we share a bed most nights. I don't know how much more time I could spend with you without us actually physically being stuck together."

"We cou--"

"No."

--

Remus had absolutely no interest in playing Quidditch. He barely had an interest in the sport in general, until he was enlightened towards the end of sixth year when his boyfriend (though he wasn't his boyfriend then, but now was what mattered) started playing and suddenly there was something sort of mystifying about thick thighs and well-toned calves in tight pants; something enchanting about broad shoulders in a jersey and seeing Sirius send a bludger across the pitch like it was simply a pillow in their dorm room.

There was also something to be said about the Quidditch locker rooms that also made the sport appealing but that was neither here nor there. Remus still had no interest in playing.

Except he did. Because James had started the oddest tradition for the Gryffindor team, and no matter how many Professors tried to intervene, it had matriculated throughout Hogwarts and hell or high water at the end of every game, two lines would form and the teams would take turns squeezing and slapping each other don't arse, choruses of "good game!" resounding from the pitch.

It was a spectacle.

And was the whole reason Sirius had joined the team in the first place. It was the whole reason Remus had decided to stop beating around the bush and move towards pursuing Sirius. Because he wanted a big hand on his arse. Not someone else's.

And he was successful. All summer long.

But there was the problem now of Sirius still wanting to play, despite having access to his very own personal butt to grab at any time of day.

Well don't tell James this, but I think I actually kind of like it now?

Remus didn't have it in him to tell Sirius no on this particular thing, and instead had swallowed his pride and showed up to try-outs when they were announced.

"Moony..." James looked at him softly, "I..."

"I need to be on the team, James."

"You hate Quidditch."

"Yes."

James laughed, "You hate flying. This...sport involves flying."

"Wa..water..boy? I could hand out water?"

"Why?"

"Because you get thirsty?"

"Who does...where did you get that? We take water breaks, we have bottles and--"

"Who makes some weird tradition involving smacking and--"

Sirius slung his arm around James's shoulder, overhearing the conversation from where he had been talking with Marlene. More people gathering on the pitch with their brooms hoping to try out. He gave Remus a smile and wiggled his eyebrows "Moony, wants his arse smacked."

"Shut it," Remus told him, despite the flush to his face.

"Didn't need to hear that," James said, looking between both of them, "You're welcome to watch tryout, Remus. But there's only one slot and...it's..not...for you."

Remus narrowed his eyes, before reaching forward and grabbing Sirius by the hand pulling him slightly.

"Don't worry, baby, I'm not interested in anyone else's bum anymore. Well...probably still McKinnon and James but that'd just be impolite if I didn't. She's my partner and he's my best friend so," Sirius shrugged and gave Remus a smile, "Alright?"

"I'm not worried about you, I'm worried about everyone else. They touch your butt, and their hand is mine."

"Oh," Sirius said connecting the dots in front of him, "I just won't go in the line. Why didn't you just say that? About to get your arse on a broomstick to fight for my honor? You'd be in the hospital wing more than normal."

"Wow, you really know how to flatter a bloke." Sirius grinned again before leaning forward and whispering into Remus's ear; words causing his heart rate to speed up and the flush that was lingering from earlier to spread once more. "I...take that back. Let's go."

Something was to be said about Quidditch locker rooms.

--

The first game of the season had been won by Gryffindor, the last first game James was ever going to have, and he stood on the pitch as some of the cheers and chaos died down to take it in. Most of his team had matriculated back towards the locker rooms to change and shower, after the line of arse grabbing had finished. Ravenclaw was always the best team to do it with, matching the Gryffindors with unbridled enthusiasm for a strange ritual.

"Rumor has it there's going to be a party tonight after the win..." a voice said and James turned around to see Lily standing on the pitch behind him. She had a burgundy t-shirt on, tucked into a black skirt, her hair tied up in a gold scarf. All the colors of a sunset in a girl. James's heart thundered in his chest and he stopped himself from reaching a hand up to run through his hair.

"Gossip is...mental sometimes," James grinned softly. The rumor was far from untrue, Marlene loudly proclaiming about the bottle of rum she had under her bed and it was time to christen the common room for the first time this year. "As...Head Boy I'm planning on going without my glasses so I can...say I didn't see a thing."

Lily laughed a little, "I don't think McGonagall will buy it."

"She'll buy it as long as we don't wake her up this time. And I know someone who casts a great silencing charm."

"Sirius?"

"Him too. Uh...will...you be there?"

"Where do you think Marlene got the rum?"

James gasped, "Evans! That's not very Head Girl."

"I conveniently lost my badge for the evening..." Lily smiled again and looked up at him after a bit of silence, "So...I have to ask."

"Yeah?"

"What's....with the smacking?"

"Oh uhm...it's...Marlene showed me last year? She went to a rugby game and I...started it after. I know it probably seems ridiculous--"

"No it definitely is, even in the muggle world."

"It's more just fun now. And also for...good sportsmanship. Even if Gryffindor never loses."

"How could they when you play so well?"

"Wait, what?" James balked at the slight, unsure of what to say. But Lily just shrugged before reaching behind and smacking James lightly on the bum.

"Good game, Potter."

#this is now a butt smacking blog #drabble #this is the stupidest thing i have ever written #and i love it #james potter #and his rag tag crew of butt enthusiasts

[yandere-sins]

Stares

Horrortober Day 5: Disturbance “Nothing can interrupt us now.”

I will admit I wrote this one way too late into the night. I should go to sleep yikes :’D Enjoy!

Warnings: Yandere, Body Horror, Kidnapping, Molestation, Harrassment, Sexual Innuendos/Actions Characters: Sukuna x Reader

It was rare to see the King of Curses calm and even a little approachable.

Not that you liked seeing him at all, but you preferred it this way than any other. Ever so often, he peeked out of Itadori Yuji’s face, taunting you, belittling his host. However, you were just glad to get through with your work that day, teaching the boy the necessary theory he had to learn. You’d be gone before you had to deal with the host or the curse inside of him, just like every day. Routine, that’s what Nanami called it. Routine would benefit all of you, but you still hadn’t come around to like what you were forced to do.

Morally, it was wrong to call the boy a curse. He ate something cursed, and now he was beyond screwed, but still… Whenever you saw him, pure survival instinct ran through your veins. You wanted to defeat him, end this miserable life, but you weren’t allowed. Sorcerers weren’t supposed to teach curses, just kill. But you were torn between your orders and duty, looking at what was sitting in front of you.

Asking other sorcerers for their opinion on the matter, and you were faced with the same responses. The same struggle and conflict you were facing, except, maybe, Gojo, who seemed to be unbothered by what he dragged into your holy halls. However, the most unnerving thing that came up in conversation was how often Sukuna showed himself in your class… but not in the others. Given, they did see the casual third or fourth eye, or one mouth too many. Still, even if the others were unnerved, they chose to ignore, while you were the only one to actually have spoken to the king—though it was no honor.

“Brat, the teacher’s staring.” Instantly, Yuji’s attention shifted to the extra mouth on his cheek and then to you, expecting you to say something. You quickly caught your composure, not having realized you’ve been staring - probably in disgust - at him, almost feeling bad. Clearing your throat, you picked up your book again, shaking your head in denial before continuing to monotonously read the text inside of it out loud. Sorcerer history hadn’t been your favorite subject either, but you were stuck with it, unfortunately. Yuji was diligent enough, but even while you read, you couldn’t get your mind off the threat in front of you.

Especially not when long, clawed fingers gripped your book by the spine, lowering it with surprising force.

“No, you’ve been staring. There’s no denying it, Sorcerer, spit it out,” Sukuna grinned at you cheekily, having temporarily taken over your real student.

“I was trying not to vomit looking at you,” you snarled back, slapping his hand away that he retracted in fake hurt. “Bad liar,” he called you before the marks suddenly faded, Yuji going back to being himself.

“Ah, sorry about that,” he muttered apologetically like so many times before. And you sighed, assuring him it wasn’t his fault.

»»————————

It wasn’t his fault either when Sukuna cornered you in one of the hallways around the school. Being cornered by strong two arms did not give you the butterflies that all these novels always tried to sell. Granted, you flinched pretty hard, but once you were face to face with him, your anger far outweighed your fear. He was scary, no question asked. Sukuna could destroy you with a flick of his finger. But somehow, naively so, you didn’t believe he would. Something about ‘he could have, but he hasn’t’ made you bold apparently. Stupidly so.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you hissed, and he rolled his eyes. Yuji’s body looked stupidly wasted on him, the boy being such a ray of sunshine in contrast to his evil counterpart. Sukuna didn’t become him. His attitude didn’t.

“You’ve been staring at me,” he repeated. Why was the topic so important to him?

“So what? What is it to you?” you returned snidely. Lips curling into a grin, you felt like you had actually humored him. Not the direction you wanted to go with the King. “Well, I wanted a good look at you…” he mumbled, his eyes driving from the shirt on your collarbones to the shoes you were wearing slowly, noticeably, and… lusty.

“...too,” he finished his sentence before licking his lips.

“Disgusting,” you whispered dryly, staring at him perturbed, and Sukuna chuckled at your obvious rejection.

“Well, I have what I wanted.”

Before you could repeat, he disappeared, leaving behind a slumping student of yours, and you cursed the King of Curses quietly, dropping everything to had in your arms to support Yuji. “Asshole,” you mumbled, and for a brief moment, you thought you heard him chuckle again, but you couldn’t be sure.

»»————————

It was him. He was planning something all along, and you knew it.

But no one could see it since this plan almost exclusively involved you.

“Shrivel and die,” you told him through gritted teeth, pushing at his chest as hard as you could. Sukuna was undeterred, pressing you against the old chalkboard and nibbling on your earlobe. Why did no one believe you when you swore up and down that he wasn’t just a quiet bystander? That he indeed was trying to do something—or someone?

“I do love a filthy mouth,” he sighed, making you want to throw up just from the implications alone. Even with your elbow between you, there was no movement. The other sorcerers had told you about Yuji’s strength, but you didn’t think you couldn’t handle it. Apparently, however, you couldn’t, and it was infuriating. While Sukuna was doing as he pleased, you decided on a different approach, opening your mouth to scream.

Finally, it caused some reaction in him, his head recoiling at the jarring sound, but before long, your lips were captured with his, a fight breaking out between your mouths. He was trying to silence you efficiently with his tongue in your throat, the mere thought of kissing a student repulsing you, and you were biting at his lips which didn’t seem to bother Sukuna at all.

“Someone will come,” you reminded him fiercely as he broke away to give you some air.

“Silly,” he only commented before kissing you again. You were hammering at his chest, trying to make your disapproval evident, but it was to no avail. Sukuna wouldn’t budge. Only when he, mercifully, allowed another breath, you screamed again, using your palms to defend from his face closing in to shut you up. The weight of his body was pressing you into the wall painfully, but realizing your powers simply wouldn’t show no matter how hard you tried was even worse. Did he have some kind of ability that stole your energy from you? Was it fear that blocked you from using it? Were you afraid?

You were. 

It was indeed silly, even if it was painful to agree with Sukuna. You never feared for your life, taking every day and mission as it came. But you were scared now because of the monster in front of you. You had been right: you should have killed him when you could. Stupid! Absolutely stupid to keep around!

Even you understood that it wasn’t death you feared. You feared Sukuna’s presence and the effects it had on you. How defenseless you were suddenly and how, even though he always disappeared in the end after annoying you, he just didn’t seem to let go of you now. 

“Scream some more,” he taunted, and you weren’t going to object. Immediately, you put up the fight again, feeling your lungs clench when you robbed them of all the air to get some help. But nothing happened. “I like it when they struggle,” Sukuna laughed, crazy, madly, victoriously. As if he won a war you didn’t know about.

“Come, open your eyes! Look where you are!” he encouraged you, grinning from ear to ear. Confused, you looked around, seeing the same old classroom that you always had when teaching Yuji. The sight slowly began to shift, fog collecting at your feet and the walls moving unnaturally under your gaze. You’ve been scared before, but it was nothing compared to what you felt as everything shifted. 

You hadn’t realized it. 

Not for one moment did you know he activated his domain, something no one had been able to explore until now. It was different from what you expected, much more vast and deadly. But you also saw the remainders of the classroom, and you wondered how much of it was taking up the actual reality. Horrified, you looked around, now knowing your screams wouldn’t echo for no one but you two here. You always thought you were a decent sorcerer but maybe… maybe you were nothing at all. At least not in the eyes of Sukuna.

“Finally,” Sukuna sighed, satisfied and seemingly exhausted by effort you didn’t know he was making. “Nothing can interrupt us now. I just needed you to lower your guard.”

“You…” Your mumble was met with deafening silence. Not even Sukuna’s breathing made a sound in this space, and you immediately felt claustrophobic in the pitch black that encased the realm. His realm.

“I was nice. I waited. Those… manga said it was proper in these times, though, I don’t care for them. But you kept staring at me as if you were trying to kill me. Do you know how hard it was to wait? A king shouldn’t have to wait-no. I shouldn’t have to wait for you when you are coming on to me.”

Blinking a few times, you looked back at him. Perhaps, for the first time, you were truly meeting his gaze, always finding a reason to not look at him directly before. But not anymore. Now you were indeed looking at him, not remembering those times he said you stared when this was the first and only time you really saw him. “It’s been too long that I had company. How nice of you to offer yourself up to me~”

“I never did-” you tried to argue, but you were swept into another kiss, flailing in his arms as you feared falling. Endlessly. You could no longer discern where the realm started and ended. “You’re mine now,” he growled, unhinged.

“I will devour you, Looker. It’s punishment for not welcoming me sooner. There’s a lot to make up for.”

You’ve never seen Sukuna calm before. Because if what you had witnessed was what you called calm, it had been because he was waiting for the right moment. The right moment to pounce, and to your misery, it was now. Stares could kill, people said. It was true, you found out, as you killed yourself with it by making the King of Curses recognize you. Though, you wished you were dead.

You merely killed your freedom with your actions, as there was no way Sukuna would let you have that ever again after you piqued his interest unwillingly.

#Sukuna #ryomen sukuna #Sukuna jjk #yandere sukuna #yandere!sukuna #Jujutsu Kaisen #JJK #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere!jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere!jjk #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #horrortoberchallenge2021

[blouisparadise]

We frequently get asked what our members favorite fics are, so for today’s rec list, we asked each member of BLP to choose FIVE favorite fics for this list - no repeats allowed. Please keep in mind that this is not a complete list of our favorites - there are so many amazing BL fics out there that we all have a lot more than this! Still, we hope you enjoy. Happy reading!

1) Take Off Your Business Suit | Explicit | 3082 words

“Yes, let me get another chair.” Louis said, leaning up off of the desk. He stood up but before he could leave the office to get another chair, Harry was grabbing his hand.

The words that came out of Harry’s mouth made Louis’ knees weak and heart beat quicken. “Just sit on my lap.” Harry said. Whatever he said afterwards didn’t make it into Louis’ ears as he was moving quickly over to Harry and placing himself on Harry’s lap.

Louis would take anything Harry wanted to give him; hand touching, lap sitting, all of it. Louis hadn't realized he was holding his breath until it came out in a quiet sigh. “Okay so th-this one will be slightly different right?” He asked as he pointed at the sheet of paper in front of him.

2) Quietly Our Hearts Beat | Explicit | 7539 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis and Harry in the universe of ‘A Quiet Place’.

3) A Love Reaction | Explicit | 9968 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis’s staring up at him, head tilted slightly back, and his blue eyes are glassy, locked with Harry’s in an unblinking and gentle gaze. He looks ready to do whatever Harry says, to please him whatever way.

4) To Love Without Reason | Explicit | 8854 words

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind.

Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic.

“I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.”

Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

5) No Good Unless It’s Real | Explicit | 17021 words

Louis is a very busy farmer who’s just trying to make it to his next nap and Harry’s the new hot vet that’s determined to infiltrate every area of his life.

6) A Springtime’s Wilt, An Autumn’s Bloom | Explicit | 20593 words

Harry is Louis' personal chauffeur, and although he hides his feelings for his boss behind a wall of rigid professionalism, Louis still manages to squeeze through the cracks.

7) Ready To Fall | Explicit | 21220 words

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?”

“I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth –

“A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!”

“To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

8) Written In The Stars (That’s You And Me) | Explicit | 22632 words

Louis pushes himself up on one elbow and stretches enough to just barely trace his fingertips over Harry’s jawline. Harry’s eyes drop to track his movements as he does it again. “D’you feel that?” he whispers.

To him, it feels like all of the universe’s magic lives just beneath his skin when he touches Harry with intent. It feels like something special. Louis watches Harry’s lips part and wants to touch that too. He almost does, but then Harry shakes his head. “Feel what?”

9) Middle Ground | Explicit | 23561 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry moves to a new town for work where he meets the enigma that is Louis Tomlinson.

10) England Has My Bones | Explicit | 24087 words

The next time Harry thinks about calling, it’s 4.14 in the morning on a Parisian hotel balcony.

11) Like A Siren In The Night | Explicit | 24868 words

“There is an infestation in my home,” Louis hisses, righting himself quickly and pushing his way past Harry, heading directly for the kitchen. He’s rather haphazardly dressed himself, a coat thrown on over a loose flannel shirt and black pants, slippers on his feet.

Harry resists the urge to sigh, closing the door and trailing behind him slowly. “What kind of infestation?”

For all he knows, Louis is going to claim that there’s a ghost infestation. Harry has no idea what the end game is here – all he knows is that Louis has found at least three complaints a week to bring up since he’s been living on Harry’s property, and he’s been living here for six months.

It’s way too many fucking complaints, is what Harry is saying. Especially when most of them are ridiculous to start with.

12) Hold Onto This Heaven (Of Yours) | Explicit | 25213 words

An ode to being too young, too sad, and too in love.

13) The Devil’s In The Details | Explicit | 25372 words

He squeals when Harry smacks his bum as he bends over to pick up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. Harry smiles smugly at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “When are you going to start calling me professor?” He asks.

“When you actually are one,” Louis says with his hand on the doorknob. He cocks his head to the side in curiosity. “Isn’t that how words work? You did study English, right?”

Louis’ quick to slip out the door before Harry can smack him again, his laugh echoing through the hallways as he makes his way to his next class with flushed cheeks and a bright smile.

14) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27086 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

15) You Fit In My Poems (Like A Perfect Rhyme) | Explicit | 27598 words

The one where Harry works in an old bookshop and Louis is the pretty stranger that ends up stranded there in the middle of a storm.

16) Where The Lights Are Beautiful | Mature | 31170 words | Sequel

The accidental bonding A/B/O fic.

17) Once Upon A Dream | Explicit | 33319 words | Sequel

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

18) Stuck On You | Explicit | 33983 words

Louis’ life revolves around his stickers. Harry’s life revolves around his job. The universe has decided their worlds should revolve around each other.

19) Coeur De Pirate | Explicit | 34207 words

He tilts his chin up as the Captain strides across the deck, his footfalls falling loudly against the planks. The crew watches them from afar.

Stepping into his space, the Captain wraps an arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him in. He lowers his head to breathe his words against Louis’ cheeks. “I won,” he whispers, “I’ve come to claim my prize.”

20) What This World Is About | Explicit | 34472 words

An eighties American high school AU; there are first times, football games, and feelings.

Alternatively titled: the beginning.

21) Close To Nowhere | Explicit | 34589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

22) Before We Knew | Explicit | 39830 words

Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed onto his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

23) The Space Between | Explicit | 39917 words

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

24) The Sweetest Incantation | Explicit | 40580 words

Harry is a witch who's still working on developing his powers and Louis is a werecat who falls into his life and turns it upside down.

25) Worth Dying For | Explicit | 44906 words

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. In the center of the table, a set of three glossy photos stares up at him, mocking him.

“A security detail is non-negotiable, Louis, you know this,” his mum reminds him, tapping the middle photo with two fingers.

Louis doesn’t look back down at the pictures, gesturing towards them wildly, over-dramatically. “This is not a security detail!” he protests. “This is a lanky college student. In what world do you hire someone like this kid to protect me?”

26) Tastes Like Summer, Smiles Like May | Explicit | 47519 words

A cold prince, an alpha with nothing left to lose and a kingdom with a secret.

27) Love’s Truest Language | Explicit | 48195 words

The first part was meant as a joke. He didn't really expect Harry to buy anything. It was just Louis’ way of softening the ‘get the fuck out’ blow.

“Where's your order forms, then?”

“I don't want your flowers.” Louis chided before directing all of his attention to the arrangement in front of him.

Harry laughed under his breath as he stood to his full height, “Who said anything about them being for you, love?”

28) Through The Wheatfields And The Coastlines | Explicit | 52855 words

The one where Louis needs inspiration, and a certain cowboy and his lamb are the perfect distraction.

29) Latibule | Mature | 54322 words

A Spirited Away AU of sorts where Louis just wants to heal and be left alone, only for all his plans to be destroyed by the hands of an infuriating British God.

30) Warming Up To You | Explicit | 56227 words

Prompt 111: Louis and Harry are strangers that somehow got stranded during a blizzard. They find themselves in an abandoned cabin and have to cuddle for warmth. Cuddling leads to much more.

31) Feeling Borrowed, Always Blue | Explicit | 68214 words

Louis has been dreaming of his wedding since he was young - he just never expected it to happen like this.

32) Curly Bun Man | Not Rated | 68597 words

I just paid for these Doritos but they're stuck in the vending machine and I know you've been waiting but I am not going to let you buy something until you help me. AU.

33) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76584 words | Sequel

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

34) Through Struggles, To The Stars | Explicit | 80582 words

Louis is a Starfleet captain trying to find his place in the universe. Harry is a prince just trying to do what's right.

35) I Want You So Much (But I Hate Your Guts) | Mature | 83648 words

AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream.

That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.

36) Where You Lay | Explicit | 86038 words

When Louis's upcoming heat threatens his success at his new dream job, he asks the best (and only) person he can think of to help him through it: his best mates' best mate, Harry Styles.  Harry reluctantly accepts, and together the two navigate a strange friends with benefits relationship that quickly turns complicated.

37) And Down The Long And Silent Street | Mature | 86090 words

Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

38) Swim In The Smoke | Explicit | 101778 words

“What about this, Captain?” Liam asks, nudging the boy kneeling between their feet with the toe of his boot. The boy hisses and swipes at him, slurring out something unintelligible around the makeshift gag Niall had to stuff in his mouth. He misses by a mile and tries again, just as ineffectively.

Harry looks down at him, at the way the sun streams over his face and shoulders, at the way the gag stretches his mouth, lips pink and chapped. He’s lithe and pretty, smudged all over with dirt. They had found him tied up below deck, mostly unconscious, next to a barrel full of gold. He’s clearly a prisoner, but there’s something familiar about him, something that niggles at Harry’s brain. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Put him in my cabin,” Harry decides, turning back to deal with the rest of the loot. The boys screams out jumbled curse words at Harry’s back, muffled by the gag, and Harry can’t understand any of it.

39) The Galaxy’s Edge | Explicit | 113921 words

Things never quite go as they are planned during a simple rescue job.

40) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices | Explicit | 126057 words | Sequel (WIP)

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#fic recs #blp fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #larry

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing xvi.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: jk and oc :(

words: 5, 820

summary: a series of drabbles where you’re confused and jungkook’s confusing

a/n:

at the end of the chap!!!

“Babe, you better close your lips,” Yena nudges your shoulders when the two of you approach the football field with treats of your own.

“I’m not … drooling,” you reply lamely, fingers clutching the bag of food and refreshments tightly in your grasp as if it would run away.

“I wasn’t talking about your mouth,” she smirks.

Your head snaps towards her in a flush, ears immediately turning red when she resorts to snickering at your scandalised expression. You thwack her on her shoulder, flustered at the cackles she’s releasing. The food in your hands remains unscathed, purely because you spent a good amount of time preparing it for the boys—knowing that they were entering an important season for their football games.

From where the two of you were walking from, you had a decent view of the football team sprawled across the field, likely resting from one of their many intensive practices. You weren’t concerned with anyone else, and given Jungkook’s flashy hair colour—it was only natural that your eyes immediately fell onto his figure. It also just so happened that Jungkook decided to take his break—shirtless.

You shake your head to snap out of your daydream, fully aware of the way that Yena shoots you a knowing smirk.

“Okay, shut up before you blow my cover,” you hiss.

“You’re telling me that when your face screams I want to lick the sweat of Jungkook’s pectorals—!”

You’re about to drop the food aside, fully ready to attack Yena who looks all too pleased with her teasing, but another voice interjects before you can do any real harm to your friend.

“Is Yena harassing you?”

Yena snaps her head to the source of the voice and immediately narrows her eyes at the smirking figure.

“Oh shut the fuck up, Min,” she snaps.

“Was I talking to you?” He rolls his eyes before turning over to give you a smile, “Hey, ____. Here to feed the dogs?”

You snort, casting a sideways glance to Yena who’s equal parts fuming and red—and you’re definitely sure that it wasn’t because of her apparent anger. The lingering glance that Yoongi rests on her figure with a fond smile tells you enough, and you hide the grin that threatens to appear on your face as you return a kind one to Yoongi.

“Spot on. You’re here to cover their practices?” You make small talk as the three of you make your way towards the football team, most of them too immersed in whatever Namjoon was saying to take note of your approaching figures.

He lets out a deep sigh before nodding, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“You wanted coverage for next months paper, didn’t you?” He teasingly accuses.

You duck your head in embarrassment, remembering the meeting you had with the student reporter union and your exact words. You did need an article written on the football team’s practices for publicity purposes, and you briefly remembered Yoongi and Yena bumping heads on multiple occasions on who was to cover it. Clearly, Yoongi won—or more appropriately, Yena surrendered due to his ‘irritating’ personality.

“I did,” you smile apologetically, “Hopefully it isn’t that bad.”

“All he does is complain,” Yena mutters under her breath.

Yoongi raises a brow with an amused smirk on his face.

“I would’ve been complaining less if I had someone accompanying me,” he says pointedly.

You briefly note the flush on Yena’s cheeks before she grumbles something incoherent under her breath, shoving a fist into Yoongi’s arm in retaliation as he snickers at her reaction. You smile to yourself, eyes turning fond when you realise that Yoongi doesn’t back away even as she bites. All he does is let her have her way, patiently sticking by her side while he placates her growls.

You reach the circle where the footballers were gathered as you quietly tiptoed your way towards the bleachers, setting the food down and taking them out so they could dig in right after they were done. You brought enough for the entire team—but you were still worried since they were male athletes who definitely had an appetite for victory and your sandwiches. You hoped it’d suffice.

Just as you’ve settled down, Jimin spots you when his head snaps up, offering you a wide grin along with nudges to Namjoon and Taehyung’s shoulder. The rest of the team follow the direction of his eyes, and you turn red at the sudden attention of all the men on you as you offer a meek wave, avoiding any real eye contact.

“You came!” Jimin hops towards you, immediately dragging you into a hug as he nuzzles his sweaty forehead into your neck.

You grimace and push him away, scrunching your face at the wetness that sticks to your skin at his contact.

“Ew, you stink,” you whine.

He rolls his eyes before he digs through the food, showing his true intentions on why he came over in the first place.

“And you are an angel,” he coos, pinching your cheeks while you smacked his hand away.

“How was practice?” You hum for the sake of conversation while you watch the boy scarf down your sandwiches like a starved man.

He looks up with stuffed cheeks, pausing in his chomps, “Brufal.”

You offer him a sympathetic smile before squeezing his shoulder.

“All in good time, right?”

He swallows, rolling his eyes in response.

“Said every optimist ever. I just want this season to be over so I can go back to pigging out.”

You snort but you don’t deny his statement. You watch him while he continues to munch on his meal. Something was fulfilling about watching him enjoy your preparations, and you were definitely the type to enjoy taking care of your friends. You were usually the friend that provided advice and comforted people whenever they were faced with a particularly difficult time, and you’ve heard on several occasions from both Jimin, Taehyung—and even Jungkook; that you somehow knew what to do, and say, whenever they were faced with a problem.

It’s nice, to see Jimin happy, and you note to visit more during their practices with food.

“You’re too nice, do you know?” A voice interjects.

You look up from Jimin to see Namjoon walking towards you, with Jungkook and Taehyung trailing behind him. You flush ever so slightly because you briefly remember the last time you saw Jungkook and what happened. It’s been busy for the both of you so you weren’t able to see him much on campus either.

“Stop saying that,” you scowl, “And eat up before Jimin shovels everything down this throat.”

You thrust a wrapped sandwich into his chest that he receives with a dimpled grin. Namjoon wraps a loose arm around your shoulder as thanks and you still grimace at the sweat that lingers on your skin—but you realise that it’s an inevitable part of the role you took, so you sigh and accept it.

“Let’s get married if we both don’t by 35,” Taehyung suggests the moment he’s handed a sandwich of his own as you raise a brow at his proposition.

“So I can make you sandwiches?”

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Sounds pretty misogynistic to me,” you snort, “Make your own damn sandwiches.”

“But they’re not the same,” he whines, “It’s your essence that makes it taste so much better!”

You laugh at his desperate explanation and the wiggle of his eyebrows at his insinuation. You’re thankful he doesn’t smother you with his sweat and only grants you a grateful mumble of appreciation before he’s joining his other brain cell on the bleachers, immediately bickering away about whatever topic they decided on for the day.

When Jungkook comes up for his turn, you can’t keep eye contact. Especially when he’s still in his shirtless glory while he looks at you with those eyes of his, paired with his cheeky grin. He knows exactly what he’s doing and you hate him for it.

“Where’s my sandwich?” He asks, propping himself right in front of you, leaving you no space to breathe or to move away from him.

“There,” you point to the bag rather than handing him one like you did with the rest, “Help yourself.”

Jungkook pouts, tilting his head to the side as he chases your expression to search for your eyes. You’re still avoiding his gaze, and you feel like you’re beginning to perspire at the way he’s blatant with his ogling. The two of you were in public, and your friends have sat a few metres away from you with the rest of his football team lingering nearby and somehow the idea of people seeing the two of you so close gives you anxiety.

“You’re not going to give me one?” He asks.

“You have perfectly usable hands,” you gesture, and you immediately regret it because when you turn to look at him—his arms flex under the ministration when he cages you in with his body.

You let out a yelp, head immediately darting to the side to see whether or not anyone else was paying attention. But your friends are still caught in their own conversation, except Yena who somehow has a sixth sense for your embarrassment—and shoots the two of you a sleazy wink before tonguing the inside of her cheek.

Jungkook catches this, and you’re mortified to see the way his eyebrow raises at Yena’s gesture.

“You gossiping about me to your friend?” He teases.

You know exactly what he’s referring to. You scowl in response, sticking your nose up while you glance in the other direction; away from his smirk.

“Gossiping entails that whatever I said was negative. So, do what you want with that information,” you shrug.

Jungkook tuts, shaking his head before he lets out an amused chuckle.

“Always so bratty,” he sighs, “That smart mouth of yours loves to run itself, hm?” The shift to a much huskier tone stuns you into silence because he’s suddenly much closer, more insinuative and daring with the way he leans his face closer to yours until you’re finding it hard to breathe.

“We’re in public, Jeon,” you hiss.

He snickers, “No one cares except for you.”

“I’m not about to give everyone a free show,” you saw pointedly.

Jungkook smirks, “Who said anything about a show? Can’t I just have you close to me without it meaning anything else?”

You freeze. You know Jungkook doesn’t mean it that way, but you suppose it’s the remnants of insecurity that lingers deep in the back of your mind that makes your heart drop ever so slightly. You know how he feels; how his words are meant to be a light jibe towards you. But your collateral mind can only ask, what if?

As if Jungkook’s picked up on the reason for your silence, or perhaps he was just that good at reading you and your body language, he frowns—immediately reaching a hand to your shoulder and squeezing it to get your attention.

“Hey,” he says softly, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You feel bad that he has to clarify himself when you yourself wanted to have faith in him—you did. It was more so that you lacked that same faith in yourself. To be that someone to Jungkook even when he’s made it clear to you about he felt. But you knew Jungkook to be the type that jumped from one interest to another like he was flipping through a brochure, and you didn’t mean it maliciously either.

Jungkook just liked a lot of things and could do well in a lot of things too once his mind is set. You were just terrified if that’s all you were to him. A phase that he’s got to experience in his life because it was interesting to him now.

“Sorry,” you whisper, eyes darting to your feet, “I … I know. It’s just—I’m just overthinking. It’s dumb.”

He frowns, “If it’s bothering you it’s not dumb.”

You sigh.

“No, it is,” you emphasise, balling your fist by your side as he looks at you attentively. You hate yourself a little more for being so unsure. “I know you didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that my mind just—it just thinks the worst of every situation. I’m sorry.”

Jungkook doesn’t seem to appreciate the way you’re continuously apologising or avoiding his gaze, so he takes it up himself to reach out his hands to tilt your chin upwards so that you’re looking at him. He’s always loved looking at you, whether you were studying, driving, or even just daydreaming—he loved your eyes and he’d spend most of his days just staring at you.

“I want you. I always want you,” he says and it both takes your breath away and makes your heart pound rapidly against your ribcage, “Everything that I do with you means the world to me. You mean the world to me and I don’t want to fuck this up. I fucked up once and I—I don’t want to mess this up either. So please, if you’re bothered—tell me. I want to know. I want to ease any of your worries now because I wasn’t able to do that before.”

Jungkook speaks so softly that you may have missed the sincerity and desperation laced in his tone, the hushed utterance of his truth that only you were meant to hear. He looks at you so tenderly, so authentically that you feel your heart constrict both in want and guilt. The reassuring grasp of one hand on your hip while the other rests under your chin forces you to acknowledge his sincerity—his want, and most importantly; him.

He notices it before you do, and his thumb wipes under your eyes when you feel the first teardrop. Your face morphs into a wide-eyed expression when you quickly swipe under your eyes to erase the evidence of your heart worn on your face. But Jungkook doesn’t allow you to get far, and he uses his strength to stop your wrists—forcing you to peer up at him with red-rimmed and freshly-swollen eyes.

“Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs.

“Jungkook—” you protest, pushing his hands away but it only makes him clutch you tighter.

“Don’t,” he says firmly, “It’s okay. Just cry if you have to.”

Your face crumbles because Jungkook can be both strict but earnest at the same time. It was conflicting for you not because you didn’t know how you felt but because you cared too much about the prying eyes of others. Even now, when Jungkook only looks at you—your mind strays to the people that talk, to the people that stare and wonder. And you hate it.

“We’re in public, Jungkook,” you say softly through a shaky breath.

You put some distance between the two of you by taking a step back, and Jungkook notices. Of course, he does, especially when space he once felt warmth turns cold. He frowns because he would rather hold you close—show the world and everyone that he loved you. But your eyes stray away, darting everywhere but his face.

“I don’t care,” he huffs, “I want you.”

And no matter how many times he says it, the pessimistic side of you nags at your heart to keep it safe. To keep things under wraps so that you could avoid wandering or curious gaze; especially when anyone could see or say anything.

“I know,” you tell him.

Jungkook scoffs and your eyes shoot up when you realise that Jungkook’s annoyed. The tick in his jaw tells you enough, especially when he takes a step back—placing that distance between the two of you. It sucks when you’re on the receiving end of such coldness and you can’t imagine how Jungkook felt when you pushed him away.

“Do you?” He exasperates, “I’m patient. I am. I’ll wait for you; I told you that and I meant it,” he frowns, “But I just want to hold you. I wanted this for the longest of times and I don’t care where we are in this world because that’ll never make me stop wanting you. I want you when we’re apart, I want you when we’re together and I want you now. When will that be enough?”

Jungkook takes your breath away again, but for different reasons. This time, he sounds tired—desperate, almost. He rubs his hands across his face in frustration and you can tell he’s trying his best to level his breathing. You stand there silent, lips pursed as you mull over his words.

“It is enough,” you tell him, eyes peering up on your own; but this time Jungkook isn’t looking at you and it makes your heart clench. His eyebrows are furrowed and the only thing you can catch a glimpse of is the side of his face. “I just … people talk, Jungkook. I know you’re used to that but I’m not. I don’t like it when people are in my business.”

He scoffs, “And now it’s other people that are standing in between us?” Your eyes narrow at him but the clench of his jaw tells you that he’s not stepping down either, “I am, I’m used to people talking about me whether it be good or bad. And I know you don’t like it—I know,” he exasperates, “But when will we just be enough of a reason for you to take that leap of faith?”

“It’s not that easy—”

“Of course it isn’t!” He exclaims, “I’m not saying it is. I know I fucked up and it made things more complicated than they should be but I’m here now and I’m trying. I’m trying so hard to wait for you because I want to prove myself to you. But if all it takes is just people’s words to get in between us then I don’t know if it even matters anymore.”

You recoil at his words, eyes widening when he finally looks down at you. Jungkook doesn’t look angry. He looks tired, and he sounds tired. Your heart hurts because you don’t know how he feels when all this while you were within arms reaches but not quite. You had the reassurance from Jungkook and your friends that he wanted you—but somehow you couldn’t quite believe it. Was it your fault that you felt this way? Why did you feel this way?

“Jungkook …” you reach out to grab his arm, and he doesn’t push you away. But he doesn’t make an effort to hold your hand like he usually would and it made your stomach drop.

“I love you,” he whispers, “I can shout it on rooftops and announce it to the world if that’ll make you believe me. But when will my love be enough?”

“I want you too, Jungkook,” you reply, squeezing his arm tighter.

“Do you?” He sighs, “It’s hard for me too,” he says as his eyes flutter shut, “I can wait. But it hurts. It hurts because if you really wanted me then that’s all that should matter.”

“Wait, Jungkook—” you reach out to him when he pulls away from you and you feel your heart drop when he doesn’t look at you.

Maybe it was an act of desperation, or your mind telling you to not lose a good thing due to your rumination—but you use all the strength you have to tug him back to you because you couldn’t have Jungkook walk away from you. Not now, when your heart tells you to stop being afraid, to stop being stubborn.

“I need—” he begins with a sigh, but your eyebrows are furrowed in determination when you loop your arms around his neck to tug him down to your level.

And you kiss him.

You think it’s the first time that you’ve initiated a kiss, even when the two of you were messing around. It’d always been Jungkook who took the first step, an exception was your last interaction at your apartment. But if you looked harder, even through the hurt, Jungkook reached out first. Granted, it was never in the way that you wanted—but he always took the first leap, for you and the both of you.

When you kiss him, you feel him freeze under your hold, even when you press your lips harder against his. You don’t think about the consequences, you don’t think about your friends who are likely witnessing your first public display of affection with Jungkook, and you definitely don’t think about the way that the rest of his football teammates gawk at the two of you.

It feels scary—but right. And that’s all that should’ve mattered.

When you pull away, you’re breathing heavy, peering your eyes up to Jungkook who’s stunned to silence with a gape in his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt.

You briefly see from the corner of your eye the way that Yena is squeezing Yoongi’s arm who looks as surprised as the boy in front of you. You even see Namjoon, with a hint of a smile on his face even as he looks away. Your heart clenches in guilt, but you’ve spent far too long hurting yourself and Jungkook.

“I didn’t mean to pressure you into this,” Jungkook whispers, brushing a thumb over your cheek.

“You … you didn’t,” you assure him with a small smile before you nibble on your lips. “You’re right. This—us—it should’ve been enough for me.” You tell him as he observes you with gentle eyes, “And it is. It’s always been but I’ve always been afraid and honestly? I still am. I’m terrified because this is new for me and I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“I know,” he murmurs, pulling you closer as your arms still rest loosely around his neck, “I’m scared too. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

You turn a pretty shade of red when you duck your head to avoid his fond gaze. He chuckles when you do so, endeared by your embarrassment even if you were the one that reached out first—to proclaim your affection with your kiss.

But some moments don’t last forever, and they’re not meant to. So when a third party interjects and snaps you out of your little bubble with Jungkook, you freeze.

“You sure she isn’t a two-timer, Jeon?” Jeonghan, who you briefly remember seeing at some of the football games, interjects with a raised brow as he leans on the railings of the bleachers.

You still, immediately loosening your grip around Jungkook’s neck and he realises your hesitancy—sees the fear that erupts just when you found the courage to take that first step.

“What?” You whisper.

Jungkook shoots his teammate a blazing glare that you don’t catch because you’re too busy avoiding his gaze, the attention causing the heat to rise on your cheeks and the sweat to accumulate by your hairline and on your body.

“Dude—it’s not worth it,” he snorts, “What next? She sleeps her way through the entire team?”

Your face drops, and Jungkook finally lets go of you. Your eyes widen because you think for a second that he believes his teammate, that Jeonghan has managed to somehow lure his way into the depths of Jungkook’s mind to plant that seed of doubt within his already muddled mind.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Jungkook asks with a menacing glare.

You’re frozen, but Namjoon is quickly at your side—concern etched on his face after Yena noticed the tension arising from your corner. Jimin and Taehyung are right behind him, observing the situation as they see Jungkook’s chest heaving when he stares his teammate down.

“I’m just saying,” Jeonghan shrugs, shooting you a knowing glance, “Wasn’t she fucking captain?”

“Jeonghan,” Namjoon intervenes, voice stern.

“What?” He raises his hand in defence, “Weren’t you about to ask her out?”

You hate this. You hate the attention and hate how he speaks about you as if you weren’t standing there—mortified. You especially hate the way that the rest of the team filters where the tension begins to escalate. They’re curious, for sure—at how their captain and their best player is suddenly caught in this dilemma with Jeonghan as the instigator.

“That has nothing to do with you,” Namjoon narrows his eyes at him in response.

Jeonghan snorts, “Um. It kind of does. You bailed on us for her,” Jeonghan states pointedly, “And now she’s locking lips with the golden boy here. She played you, man.”

Before Namjoon can respond, Jungkook takes a threatening step towards Jeonghan as he basically towers over him. Your hair stands on your arms as you can more or less tell where this is going, especially with the way that Jungkook’s fists clench by his sides.

“Jungkook—” you squeak, hands reaching out to rest on his shoulder.

You snap out of it, purely because you know that Jungkook’s pissed. His ears are red and his jaw is clenched, and you don’t want to know what’ll happen if you remained stagnant any longer.

“Stay out of this,” he snaps.

You blink, and even Namjoon looks taken aback. Jimin has concern written all over his features as he steps forward, likely attempting to mitigate the situation.

“Jungkook, don’t be stupid,” Jimin berates.

Jungkook turns around and all you see behind his usual doe-eyed gaze is now a fire that burns and is threatening to blaze anything in its way. And right now, Jungkook’s glaring at Jimin like he’s a rock in his journey.

“You’re going to let him say that shit about her?” Jungkook snaps.

“What’s fighting him going to do?” Jimin exasperates, eyebrows furrowed, “Don’t dig yourself a deeper hole and calm the fuck down. We have a game in two weeks and starting something now won’t do any of us good.” He raises his voice towards the end as he glares at every single person who has so happened to crowd around the lot of you to see what was happening, “Did you not hear what I said? Mind your own fucking business!”

The rest of the team murmurs amongst themselves, not before shooting you a disparaging glance that makes you feel uneasy. You look away because that’s the best you could do, fingers resting limply by your sides while you shift behind Jimin as if he was able to protect you from the wandering stares.

It was your exact fear, and somehow fate seems to hate you with the way your dream-like state with Jungkook is immediately ruined with your fears being proven.

Taehyung and Yena are by your side, looking at you with worry as you avoid their gaze. Your mind is louder, though you catch the lecture that Jungkook’s getting from Jimin for almost fighting Jeonghan. Even if nothing happened—the indents of Jungkook’s fingernails on his palm proves enough of what could happen if it weren’t for Jimin, or Namjoon, intervening.

“God, he’s such a fucking asshole,” Yena grumbles, pulling you to her side as she rubs your shoulder soothingly.

You say nothing, and you briefly see Yoongi walking over; offering you an apologetic glance that you mildly acknowledge.

“You okay?” Taehyung asks softly.

You sigh, fiddling with your fingers as you look over your shoulders to see Jungkook already staring at you.

“I want to be,” you reply, “But I fucked things up.”

Yena frowns, “Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true,” you exasperate, “If I hadn’t led Namjoon on or—if I just didn’t … if I just didn’t feel the way I did for Jungkook then—”

“And then what?” Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of your rambling as you turn around to see him furrowing his brows at you.

“Jungkook—” you reach out to him, again. He only flinches in response.

“If you didn’t feel the way you did for me and then what?” He whispers voice frustrated, “Then you’d get to protect yourself?”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung says sternly, eyes warning.

He pays him no mind, however, as you continue to blink up at him.

“That’s not what I meant,” you defend.

“What do you mean, then?” Jungkook snaps, “Because five minutes ago we had this exact same conversation—and then you kissed me—and now it’s like we’re back to square one. So what do you actually mean because I can’t keep trying to come up with my own answers!”

“That’s what I mean, Jungkook!” you frown, gesturing your arms wildly towards the team who’s all grouped together a good distance from where you were, “That. People talking. God, I want you too but I can’t live with the constant hypotheticals of people wondering how the fuck you could ever be with someone that apparently slept with your captain.”

“I don’t care about what people say!” He says vehemently, stepping closer to you.

The rest of your friends observe silently as they all exchange looks, shifting away to give you some privacy. You were so confused, and tired—and you didn’t even care if you were in public anymore and that people could see the argument brewing between you and Jungkook.

“I know you don’t,” you snap, “But not everything is about how you feel, Jungkook. You can live your life because everyone’s going to be pointing figures at me. Not you. It’s because it’s my name that’s being thrown around like I’m some—like I’m some whore who can’t keep her legs closed and—”

“Don’t fucking say that,” Jungkook snarls.

“—it’s what people are saying!” You cry, “Jungkook. Just a month ago you were with Jennie and I was somehow with Namjoon. What … what will people think?”

“So that’s what you’re afraid of?” He laughs dryly.

“What—?”

“You’re afraid because of what other people may think?” He repeats your words back to you, standing closer as you shift back, eyes avoiding his heavy gaze.

“I’m scared of a lot of things, Jungkook,” you say softly.

“I want to be there for you,” he tells you, voice softer than the previous harsh tone he took, “Me risking my position on this team just now? Yeah, that’s what I would do to protect you. I know people will talk and I know it sucks because your name is thrown in the loop—but you have me. You have Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung and Yena. We all would do anything to protect you so why are you still so afraid?”

Jungkook’s beginning to sound more desperate, especially with the way he’s somehow clutching on your elbows as if you’d slip away.

“I”—what were you afraid of? You seemed to have all the answers earlier, and even after Jungkook’s pleas, you find yourself hesitating. The anxiety of people looking at the two of you and wondering how the hell could it work—or whether or not you were set on breaking Jungkook’s heart; and vice versa. You remember the names of people who’s ever questioned your friendship and if there was something more. You remember Sana, harmlessly saying that it seemed impossible for the two of you to be together.

The entire time, fear plagues your mind, and you can’t give Jungkook an answer because it’s more than just people. It was you. It was you being terrified that you weren’t enough and that he’d see how imperfect you were compared to the girl he thinks he loves. You weren’t the smart, independent girl that participated in every club on campus. You were … small. You were fragile and weak, and insecure.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he says defeatedly, resting his forehead on the crown of your head.

Your heart drops.

“Please don’t say that,” you croak.

You feel the lump in your throat grow, and when you look up—you see a pained expression painting Jungkook’s face.

“I don’t want to say that,” he whispers right before he reaches up to clutch your face in his hands, “But I think I need to.”

“You don’t!” You cry, your own arms reaching out to clutch at the collar of the fresh shirt he’s managed to throw on.

“This doesn’t change the fact that I love you,” he reminds you gently.

You hate that you’re crying. The hot, wet tears that flow down your cheeks is a reminder of your vulnerability. Of how much control Jungkook has over your feelings.

“Why does it sound like you’re breaking up with me,” you cry.

He smiles, soft and half-hearted as he pulls you into a hug.

“We aren’t together,” he reminds you. Your heart clenches because you could’ve been.

“I …” you want to say that you could be. You want to tell him that you want him. And you do. But your mouth doesn’t move when all you can hear is sobs escaping you.

“Think about it, okay?” He murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face so that you wouldn’t end up crying all over the strands of hair uncomfortably, “If you … if you’re still afraid. That’s okay. We can be friends, and I can pretend like this never happened. I’ll always respect your decision.”

“But …”

He shushes you gently, wiping at your tears.

“I told you. I’ll wait for you—but I can only do that if you want me to,” he says sadly, “I love you. I do. I spent the past seven years of my life loving you, but I need to know if you feel the same.”

“I do!” You immediately respond, eyes wide.

He shakes his head with a small laugh, “You may love me. But love isn’t always enough.”

His words are heartbreaking, and you feel yourself crumble all over again. But your mind isn’t clear and you’re overwhelmed with emotion. Jungkook’s still looking at you gently like he always had. But it seems different.

“Let me take you home first, yeah?” He whispers.

You stop his movements when he reaches out to pick at your belongings as you grab a hold of his hand.

He turns to look at you with a raised brow and you notice how tired and sunken his eyes look. Your heart clenches for the millionth time and you just want to—

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s funny that you’re the one asking that question. When weeks ago it was him in that same position. You realise how vulnerable Jungkook must’ve felt when he posed you with the same question because you feel the exact same. You feel like your heart is on the floor, exposed to everyone as they examine the ins and outs of your feelings.

Jungkook looks at you softly, before pulling you to his chest and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

And like always, Jungkook can’t say no to you.

a/n:

hi babes!!!! new chapter is up and oc and jk are :-(

im sorry for the angst!!!!! but things aren't always great between the two 🥺

i hope you enjoyed this chapter even tho yall may be cursing at me rn 🤣 but i do hope that you see oc's internal struggles with accepting everything and pursuing a potential relationship w jk despite her 'obvious' feelings towards him

as always, let me know what you think in my asks!!! love you all - and have a lovely day ahead of you ❤️

#bad boy good thing #bbgt #bts #bts fics #bts series #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook series

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: Instead of shattering Dad Nie's saber to kill his pride, he shatters Baxia - and thus Nie Mingjue. What better way to punish a man who dared to think anything of his could rival Wen Ruohan? Only, Nie Mingjue survives... and Baxia does too. Of course, sharing Nie Mingjue's body, neither of them is quite the same...

Curse-breaker (Chapter 1/4)

- ao3 -

"I see," Wen Ruohan said, his teeth slightly gritted, his irritation plain and obvious for all to see. "Indeed, I must concede that Sect Leader Nie's saber is finer than the one I own; it is undeniable. Lao Nie, your saber."

He offered it back, plainclothes-wrapped hilt first.

"You do my sect honor," Sect Leader Nie said with a wide grin, accepting the saber. "Our sabers are indeed the finest – and more than that, they get better with each generation. To tell you the truth, my friend: this one isn't mine, but my son's!"

He revealed the hilt, not anything like his own, and laughed, delighted by the joke he had played.

Wen Ruohan’s face contorted, growing pale in what everyone assumed was rage.

It was only later that Lao Nie, at least, recognized that it had been horror.

-

Nie Mingjue was screaming, and had not stopped screaming.

His throat was rent all to pieces, his fingers bloody from clawing at his own flesh, his eyes rolling around in his head as if by some inescapable fit -

"It's a qi deviation," one of the elders said. "Induced by the breaking of his saber. We should take him to the tombs."

"Fuck off," Lao Nie told them, as if saying the words would deny the truth. "He's too young!"

He put himself between them and his son.

"You shouldn't have let him take up the saber so young," the elder persisted, as if it had been Nie Mingjue’s fault that his son’s saber had been shattered by a man a century older than him, and all because of a dispute that had nothing to do with him. "You shouldn't have shown it to others, left it unguarded -"

"Do you think I don't know that?!" Lao Nie roared, abruptly pushed beyond his limits. "Do you think that I don't already regret...!"

He regretted. Oh, how he regretted!

He had not regretted a single thing in his life since the day his father had told him that he would one day die, and how. Even back then, he had swallowed down the regret without choking on it: he had accepted it, understood it, and resolved to live the life he had left to him to the utmost. What good, he had reasoned, would regret do? Would it win him a single additional day of life? Would it wring out a single ounce of additional joy from the days he did have?

There was no point in regret.

Whether that was the right decision or not, he didn’t know, but it was the one he made, and he stuck with it.

His whole life, Lao Nie had been reckless and carefree even by the already low standards of his family. He was always indulging in familiar pleasures and searching for new experiences, doing whatever he could to excite a palate already starting to grow jaded. He broke hearts as easily as he won them, and had what even he admitted was the worst taste in partners imaginable, attracted as he was to danger and death as if to an old and much-beloved friend. He laughed at the idea of risk or consequences, taking care only for his sect, which he loved; everything else was negotiable, or so he'd thought. He'd scared the wits out of most of his family time and time again, and - perhaps as recompense - had grown his first grey hair dozens of years too early. To this day, he still didn't know whether the reason everyone called him Lao Nie so often that even he thought of himself that way was because they were genuinely fond of him, because of the premature black-and-white mix of his hair, or perhaps just as some unspoken prayer that he finally get over himself and grow up.

If it was the last, it hadn’t worked. Even as he’d gotten older, he hadn’t changed one bit.

The only thing that had changed was that he’d finally found something he loved more than his sect.

He loved his children.

He loved his children, whether the righteous and too-serious Mingjue with his secret penchant for tears or the flippant and carefree Huaisang who was lazier than a slug in the sun. He loved them and he, unlike his father before him, did not burden them over-early with knowledge that would only be an itch under their skin that slowly drove them mad.

He loved them.

And now one of them was dying – because of him.

"You should take him to the tombs," the elder said, and ignored the crash of the chair Lao Nie threw at their head. "You let him become a man of our sect, Lao Nie. Do him the honor of letting him die as one.”

“You…!”

“Or do you think you are being kind, leaving him like this?"

Lao Nie looked down at his son, his Mingjue, the baby he’d held in his arms and the toddler he’d taught to walk and the child he’d chased and the teenager he’d taught the saber. His boy, who was thrashing wildly on the bed, spitting up foam along with blood and weeping uncontrollably.

"A-die," Nie Mingjue whimpered, just as he had when he'd been younger and caught in the throes of fever or breaking a bone through his own misadventures. Tears streamed endlessly down his eyes, his brave little boy who was not-so-secretly a bit of a crybaby. "A-die, a-die, it hurts..."

Lao Nie closed his eyes in pain.

He regretted.

But it was too late now to regret.

"We'll take him to the tombs," he finally conceded, and for the first time in his life he truly felt old. "Just let me say goodbye."

-

If you go to the tombs, you will not come out.

Nie Mingjue might only be a child, thirteen or fourteen years old – he couldn’t remember clearly any longer which it was – but he had been a good student before that, reading faithfully through his sect’s histories and listening to his teachers. He knew enough to read between the lines, to reckon the subtle indications and the not-so-subtle hints: he knew, even before he’d been officially told, what it was that he faced down at the end of the road that his ancestors had built for him to walk.

The early death – the painful death – the silent tombs –

There had been so many whispers when he’d taken up his Baxia too early. How could he not know?

His father hadn’t wanted him to know, though. So he hadn’t said anything, and pretended he didn’t.

(Huaisang could be ignorant for real, he’d thought to himself. It’d be okay if he didn’t know.)

If you go to the tombs, you will not come out. You cannot go to the tombs!

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes.

He no longer screamed, even though the spiritual energy that had once felt rich and nourishing and strong now felt like corrosive acid scouring his veins, burning him from the inside out – it wasn’t that he didn’t want to, wasn’t still compelled too; it was only that he had screamed too much, wearing out his voice down to nothingness from overuse.

If I go to the tombs, I will not come out, he thought, dimly aware that something wasn’t right. Thinking was hard, and grew ever harder: the qi deviation, for that was what it was, was worsening, not getting better.

Would not ever get better.

His Baxia, his loyal saber filled to the brim with resentful energy, had shattered. Shattered, and now all that resentful energy that she had collected for herself had flooded back into him, drowning his brain in rage and madness.

Flooding him with – Baxia.

I cannot go to the tombs.

You cannot go to the tombs, Baxia agreed – at least, he thought it was Baxia. It might be himself: he could no longer tell the difference.

She’d shattered, and he’d shattered, too. His mind and his body and his meridians and his golden core: everything was in pieces. His spiritual energy was running the wrong way, twisting him up inside, hurting instead of helping – the rage and resentful energy wasn’t going into Baxia but coming back into him, and it was poison.

There was no fixing it. His ancestors had tried everything they could: brought in the finest physicians with their needles and their clever ideas, sought out mysterious techniques and strange geniuses that played games even with their golden cores, even tried out demonic cultivation to see if it would help – with their lives and their children’s lives at stake, was there anything they wouldn’t do?

As if it would be that easy.

As if the road to death taken time and time again over the generations could be so easily evaded.

Nie Mingjue was a Nie. He had had a qi deviation. He was going to die.

But he was young, too.

Too young.

They all said that’d he formed his core at an extraordinary young age, and he had, too, verifiable evidence of his unusual genius for cultivating – only a golden core formed too early wasn’t quite the same as one done in the usual way at the usual time. It’d formed all right, all the spiritual liquid flowing through his meridians condensing into a shining solid sphere in his dantian, but it was still a little gummy in comparison to the normal ones. It had to be. He’d formed the core before he’d reached adolescence, without any of the necessary hormones running through his body; if his golden core was as fully solid as most adults, he’d be stuck at the age and size he was at when the core was first formed.

Normally, all this meant was that his foundation would be a little unstable for the first few years, just until he got old enough, and only when he was finally at his proper age would it truly settle into place along with his body, growing firm and solid and far more powerful than all the rest.

But he’d never gotten the chance to grow that old.

Nie Mingjue’s core had cracked when his saber that had been fundamentally tied to it had shattered, but unlike the steel of the saber it was still more fluid than solid. Even as the corrosive resentful energy burned him, even as the spiritual energy rioted within him, his old instincts were still there, that subconscious genius for cultivating already at work, trying to force the spiritual energy to run through him, trying to put those broken pieces back together. For any normal Nie, the greater his talent, the faster he’d be driven mad, but for Nie Mingjue, those gummy pieces of his core, sticky and still fluid, were instead being soldered together using spiritual energy and resentful energy both, and unlike the stiff and brittle solidity of the golden core of adulthood, they were still flexible enough to stick together – to coalesce into a whole once more.

Only –

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes.

He’d already opened them once, and now he opened them again. The world as he had always recognized it, he saw through his left eye – but through his right, there was a whole new world.

It was a world of black and white, of good and evil, a world of kinetic movement, of steel and rage incarnate…the world through the perception of a saber spirit. A saber spirit who had shattered when her steel was shattered, shattered when her master’s core was shattered, and whose pieces were even now integrating interchangeably with her master’s pieces into a single indissoluble whole.

If we go to the tombs, they thought, and now that was it, that was right, we will not come out.

Well, that was simple enough to fix.

They just wouldn’t go to the tombs.

-

“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Nie Huaisang’s father hissed. “He can’t be – he wasn’t in any state – he couldn’t have just gotten up and run away – no, stop, let’s go. I don’t want Huaisang hearing.”

Nie Huaisang hated it when his father remembered to be discreet around him.

His da-ge was never discreet, he thought, pouting. If anything, that was something his father often complained about, even if he would be chuckling all the while: that Nie Mingjue had all the tact of a lady boar in full charge, riled up in defense of her children, and with about as much care for anything that did not meet his stringent expectations of justice and fairness – which was rather a lot.

Where was his da-ge, anyway? Nie Huaisang hadn’t seen him in days, not since he went out on that night hunt with their father. He’d asked his nurse about it, because it was unusual for his brother not to come play with him once he’d returned, and she’d said that he’d gotten sick and couldn’t come to see him just yet. But surely it was long enough that he’d be better already!

Nothing could keep his big brother down for long.

Decided, Nie Huaisang hopped up and headed outside, planning to go find his brother. His brother would explain what was going on, simplifying things down until even a little kid like him could get it, and he wouldn’t make Nie Huaisang feel stupid for needing that simplification.

His brother thought Nie Huaisang was smart.

Nie Huaisang walked along the railing next to his window, teetering back and forth with his hands outstretched for balance – his brother had showed him this pathway long ago, telling him that he could use it when he wanted to sneak out go play or look at birds, or even just come to find him whenever he had nightmares.

His brother wasn’t in his rooms, though.

Nie Huaisang sighed. Maybe he was in the study, or the training field, or something like that, but if Nie Huaisang tried to go there, he’d be dragged into lessons or training as well, and he didn’t want that.

He decided to go look at birds instead.

His brother had come up with a secret path to the outside that only they knew, the two of them, one that led them all the way out into the forest where the really interesting birds were. It was close enough to home that it was still safe, still within the bounds of the Unclean Realm’s protective arrays, but far enough to feel unburdened by the presence of their elders.

Nie Huaisang went to look at birds, but it wasn’t birds he found.

“…who’s there?” he asked, seeing movement in the bushes – something too large to be a bird, too small to be a bear, too two-legged to be a boar or a dog. Whoever it was, they were breathing hard, as if they’d run too far, interspersed with little whines of pain, like they were hurt. “Who are…”

The figure in the bush moved forward.

“…da-ge?”

Nie Huaisang’s big brother didn’t look right. He was crouched down, carrying his body low as if he were trying to support himself and protect his middle at the same time, his fingers digging into the ground for balance – his lips were peeled back from his teeth in something caught between a grimace and a growl. His left eye was normal, but his right was horribly red, shot through with pulsing veins that seemed to bleed into the iris, the color of which had faded from warm golden brown to something more like a slate or steel grey.

He sounded like he was in pain.

His brother was in pain.

Nie Huaisang took a step towards him, deeply concerned, and Nie Mingjue backed away.

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang whispered, terrified. “Da-ge, it’s me, it’s Huaisang – I won’t hurt you!”

Nie Mingjue whined, a sound deep in the back of his throat, but this time, when Nie Huaisang stepped forward, he didn’t run. He waited until Nie Huaisang was close before darting forward and nuzzling Nie Huaisang’s hand with his cheek, ducking his head down and letting him touch his hair as if he were a dog.

His brother wasn’t just sick, Nie Huaisang realized. He was reallysick.

“What happened?” he asked, and his brother just looked sad. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

His brother nodded. A short jerking motion, barely recognizable, and yet – a nod.

“…do you have to?”

Another nod.

Nie Huaisang’s lip quivered. “Will you be all right?”

His brother nuzzled his palm again. It wasn’t an answer.

Nie Huaisang took a deep breath. “I won’t tell anyone.”

His brother seemed almost to smile.

And then he was gone.

Walking all the way back inside before bursting into tears was the hardest thing Nie Huaisang had ever done in his life, but the worst part was knowing that this was only the beginning.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #sect leader nie #nie huaisang #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #curse-breaker

[teklarn]

I NEED A PART TWO FOR BAUKGOU’S AWKWARD CONFESSION!!

𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 𝓹𝓽. 2

character(s): katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

a/n: k the first one kinda blew up and i've been on tumblr for like a week and it made me rly happy receiving the requests ty <33 thank u for all the reblogs too !! this is a bit later than i hoped it would come out b/c half of the original fic was deleted by accident, but i’m on summer break until sept 5 so hopefully i’ll still update frequently. 

𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕!

summary: bakugou finds he’s rejecting his feelings for you in fear of becoming weak, however he just can’t seem to ignore you. 

genre: lil angsty, fluffy at the end

warnings: cursing, one-sided pining, gave reader a quirk, the fighting scene is bs i cannot write action scenes at all im so sorry lol,  second hand embarrassment for our dearest dynamight :(

word count: 2507

pls don't mind any typos! i try to edit to the best of my ability but i tend to type fast and i might miss a few or a lot of things. 

- - -

read part one here my loves !!

you found yourself bored, cheeks puffing out as you swirled around the drink in your glass cup, sitting across from midoriya. he was muttering again, which you’d always found cute, however you weren’t listening this time at all. 

part of the reason you’d rejected bakugou was due to the fact midoriya had requested your attention first, and not as friends. if you’d told bakugou that, it would just wound his delicate ego on top of the fact that you truly had no interest in him whatsoever. 

at the moment, though, he was the only thing on your mind. there was no sudden spark of attraction you’d felt when he’d confessed. of course, anyone would find it flattering that the katsuki bakugou found you attractive. his standards were higher than the clouds. 

at the moment, it felt like something was blocking your chest from feeling something for him, however you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. 

“—it was amazing, right, y/n? y/n?” 

your eyes flickered up to meet the emerald, wide-eyed eyes of your friend. you contemplated lying, but it was no use. shaking your head softly and pursing your lips, you set your drink down. “i’m sorry, midoriya. i’m just kind of...out of it, i guess you could say?” 

he cocked his head to the side. “’out of it’?” he repeated. 

“yeah,” you sighed, head pounding. 

“is everything alright? maybe today isn’t the best time for this.” 

“yeah,” you agreed. “maybe.” 

“do you want to go back to the dorms?” 

you nodded, massaging your temples. “yeah, yeah let’s go home.” 

midoriya let out a soft chuckle through his nose, smiling. “alright.” he offered his hand, and you gladly let him heave you up. 

“i’m sorry about this. honestly, midoriya, i enjoy your company, i really do. but i never assumed you’d catch feelings for me too—” 

“too?” he blinked. the two of you continued on your way back to Heights Alliance. 

you gulped. “yeah, there’s—” 

“are you saying you caught feelings for me, as well?”

your eyes fell blank, lips parting in question. “no, uh. you know what? never mind.” you giggled gently in hopes the two of you would laugh it off without another thought. perhaps you should keep you and bakugou’s quiet interaction to yourself. midoriya and bakugou were already rivals enough. 

- 

the following week was agonizing in many ways. sitting beside bakugou guaranteed that you would get strange, judgmental looks. it never guaranteed his stolen glances. when you’d catch him staring, his cheeks would flare up, and you swore he had smoke puffing out his ears. 

each time, he looked as if he would explode. what can you expect from a guy like him? 

it was easy to assume you’d just pissed him off, though. you weren’t the type of person to tell everyone you’d been asked out, but you needed to speak to someone about it. the thought had been nagging you, stuck at the back of your mind but just on the tip of your tongue. 

you even found that you were distancing yourself from midoriya, who, after asking you out, had insisted you begin calling him izuku. over everyone else, you’d choose him to speak to about the matter, but ever since you’d discovered he had feelings all along, it was strange being around him. 

you viewed him differently. he shot you glimmering smiles and blushed softly when you said his first name. 

“y/n?” 

you twisted around to see mina rocking on her heels behind you. “yes?” 

“are you okay? you seem...how do i put this.” she tapped a pink finger against her lips. “off. you seem off. is everything alright?” 

your brows raised. “oh, yeah. i’m good. thanks for checking in.” 

“is there anything you want to talk about?” she adjusted her hero costume. you and the rest of the girls were currently changing for another training exercise. 

yaoyorozu fixed her hero costume. “i don’t mean to impose on anything, but i have to agree with mina, y/n. of course, there’s no pressure to tell us anything. you’re under no obligation to unless you need and want to talk to someone, but we’re here if you need us, okay?” 

you nodded, smiling softly. “thanks you guys.” 

- 

it was the same training as before, however you were able to select a partner of your own. being that there were 21 students in the class, there was always ought to be a group of three, or one person left out. you’d come into yuuei out of pure luck, as some like to put it. 

you’d found it offensive they’d assumed it was that and not your own pure skill. it’d taken a while to re-convince yourself that you were worthy of being in the class, even if you were usually the odd one out. 

most students had already bonded by the time you arrived here, so finding a partner wasn’t always easy. once you and midoriya had gotten close, you two did most things together, however at the moment, you weren’t quite feeling it. 

surprisingly, your eyes caught bakugou standing alone, eyes scanning the room for a partner. kirishima must have partnered up with another friend, then. it was always them together. 

unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough to avoid either of them. bakugou was already trotting up to you, eyes locked on your figure just as midoriya began jogging to your side. 

in perfect unison, they asked, “be my partner?” (in two very different tones, of course.) 

you blinked between them, about to answer when aizawa came up behind you three. 

“are you guys in the group of three?” your teacher deadpanned. 

your shoulders slumped. “yeah, i guess so.” 

“get to work. you’ve already wasted five minutes standing around.” 

you nodded politely. “yes, sensei.” 

you swallowed. bakugou’s crimson gaze was pinning you in your spot, and midoriya’s lips thinned with a lack of enthusiasm when bakugou looked back at him. 

“get to work, you three,” aizawa repeated, walking away. 

“i can take on both of you.” bakugou cracked his knuckles. 

you clenched your fists. “we already know you’re at the top of the class, bakugou. there’s no need to rub it in our faces.” 

he averted his eyes, cheeks flushing red. it was like a sad, silly way of letting you know you won this fight. 

“i’ll go against you two,” you said, adjusting your hero costume. 

midoriya’s eyes widened. “what? y/n, but—” 

“but i’m not strong enough?” you finished for him. you knew where they ranked in strength, and while yours was just as powerful, if you let one thing slip, your arrows would disappear and you’d be dust. “that’s exactly my point, you two are practically at the top of the class with your quirks.” 

“tch, don’t hold back,” bakugou said, readying himself. 

“don’t go easy on me,” you mocked. 

“y/n, do you really think this is a good idea—” before izuku could finish, you and bakugou launched yourselves at one another. 

you charged forwards. an arrow flew from your hand, twisting its way right through the smoke of an explosion. when it cleared, bakugou was nowhere to be seen. 

a gasp fell from your lips as you turned around just a little too late. your ears rang terribly as your back collided with the ground. 

izuku cried out. green lightning flashed, and he was at your side in a moment. “kacchan!”

you groaned, sitting up. bakugou cut through the smoke with an arm. “fight me, damned nerd. there aren’t any pauses in a real fight.” 

you wriggled yourself away from midoriya. “midoriya, you’re my enemy in this.” 

“bu—” 

“no buts. fight me. and don’t hold back.” 

midoriya noted the determination in your eyes and stood, giving you a sure nod. you were back on your feet in a second. bakugou flew in the air and came crashing down just as fast as he conjured a blast in his right hand. 

attacking wasn’t your best option right now. you were smart enough to know that. an arrow appeared flat at your back and pulled you from where bakugou was targeting. 

cement flew into the air. 

that blast could have wounded you badly. possibly killed you, if he’d hit the right spots. 

in the air, you examined their zealous features. midoriya’s brows were furrowed in that determined smolder. 

bakugou, as always, looked angry. as expected, he charged first, shooting himself into the air. his foot nearly collided with your face, missing my barely an inch. you took your shot, revealing the arrow you’d hidden behind your back. the tip collided with his chest. 

you left the arrow to complete its command and stick your blonde opponent to the wall and trap him there while you went after midoriya. 

while he bested you in strength, you did the same to him when it came to speed. you dodged his punches like they were weak attempts at hitting a ball in a park. 

you grinned. in a battle of strength and speed, whoever landed the first hit would win. there was no question. 

twisting in the air, you allowed the ball of your foot to shove midoriya to the ground. he cried out as his face was crushed into the cement. 

it was perfect timing, as bakugou ripped free of your hold, the arrow keeping him in one spot dissolving into air as soon as its purpose was lost. 

your head whipped around to see him charging for you. 

your fingers curled. the headache pounding at your temples was beginning to get hard to ignore. 

bakugou launched himself at you, spinning in the air like a missile. he really wasn’t going to howitzer you...right? 

when he didn’t slow down, you threw your body to the right, the attack just barely missing your leg. it scorched a bit of your thigh. a groan fell from your lips as you cupped the area around the burn, shuddering with pain. 

bakugou’s chest was puffed proudly as he marched up to you, hands cracking with excited explosions. 

he pulled back his right arm, ready to spark up another fight as midoriya recollected himself. you bit your lip to hide the fact you were quivering. 

it was sudden, but bakugou paused when he saw your hand fly up. 

“give me a minute...” you gasped out, skin still sizzling. 

“y/n! are you alright?” 

you didn’t respond. midoriya smacked his friend’s arm. “kacchan! what’re you thinking?”

“midoriya, i’m fine. don’t stress over it.” you limped to your feet, rejecting the extended hand from your green-haired friend. “i’ll just go see recovery girl.” 

“do you need—” 

you smacked midoriya’s hand away, a little bit more rude than you intended it to be. “i’ll be...fine.” you offered a weak smile to hopefully make up for your tiny outburst. 

although you could see in his eyes he wanted to help, midoriya nodded and stood by, hand falling back to his side. you clutched around the patch of burned skin. the sting had faded a bit, however there was a soreness to the wound that felt like a constant stabbing to your leg. 

you swallowed the pain down, marching towards the exit with determination and a bit of a limp.

you looked back to see midoriya had gone off to tell mr. aizawa what was going on. your teacher nodded, understandingly. 

there were a few worried glances and offers for help in the hall, but you’d neglected them all and found yourself relieved to see recovery girl in her office, typing away. 

she turned as the door opened. “please knock beforehand next time—oh, dear. y/n? are you alright?” 

you gave a tense nod. “mhm. just got a bit banged up in training today.” 

the old woman pursed her lips, smile lines becoming evident. “i see.” she led you to the small cot reserved for patients such as yourself and directed you to sit down. 

she examined the bruise. “it’s fairly bad. what happened?” 

you made a gesture to the door. “i was brawling with bakugou and things got...intense.” 

“that boy has quite an extreme side to him, as i’ve come to notice.” 

“mhm,” you agreed. 

“unfortunately, y/n, i have no ointments to be able to treat this properly.” 

you nodded sheepishly before the old woman smooched your cheek. a soft green glow radiated around you. 

when she pulled back, she said, “now, your body will be trying to catch up on the healing process. that’s what my quirk does. speed up recoveries. since it’s sped up, you’ll require some rest, preferably sleep. i’ll make sure your teachers know you’re excused for the rest of the day, sound good?” 

“yes, thank you recovery girl.” 

she pushed herself out of her rolling chair and left the room, smiling at you.

your eyes fluttered shut not long after that. 

- 

the sun was gone when you woke up, the hallway light flickering off. 

“good, you’re awake.” 

you looked to the left. you cried out, gathering the white sheets around yourself despite being completely clothed. “bakugou! what the hell? you stalker! you creep!” 

bakugou took the slap you gave him on his arm. it was light, and didn’t do much damage. 

“what...what do you want?” 

even in the dark, you could tell bakugou’s cheeks were burning red. “about...about the other day. i wanted to talk to you about it.” 

your chest fluttered in unwanted hope. “there’s nothing to talk about.” 

“dammit, y/n, i wish there wasn’t anything to talk about. you’re insufferable and annoying and i can’t stand being around you because no matter what’s going on, you make my chest feel all funny. it’s stupid, and i can’t take my eyes off of you.” 

heat rushed to your cheeks. “i’m flattered, really. but i-” 

“i’m not asking you to reciprocate my shitty feelings. if anything, it’s better if you don’t.” 

“bakugou, i wasn’t...” you paused. 

“you what?” he snapped, voice soft despite his tone. 

“i was going to say that ever since you...ever since you asked me out, i’ve been conflicted about my own feelings.” 

“the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“i’m not sure if i like you back or not, bakugou. but hearing you say all this...makes me want to give it a shot. sort of. also, why the hell are you watching me sleep?” 

bakugou swept hair from his eyes. “don’t go and try to change the subject on me, dumbass.” 

you gulped. 

“so what’re you saying?” 

“i’m saying,” you started, “i’m saying that maybe i want to go out on that date with you.” 

“say it again.” 

“what?” you looked up, his eyes boring into yours. 

“i said i want you to say it again. tell me you want to go out on a date with me.” 

it startled you how sure he was when he knew what you wanted, too. this was unlike the last attempt to ask you out. 

“katsuki bakugou, i want to go on a date with you.” 

he grinned. “where to?”

#boku no hero bakugou #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst #bakugou katsuki #bnha #mha #yn #deku #fanfiction #fanfic #mina ashido #kaminari #denki kaminari #denki #izuku midoriya

[sundaysundaes]

Before Our Story Began

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff | 7.4k | College AU Summary: The popular new kid at your campus has this habit of raising his eyebrows when he flirts and you just realized that maybe you have a kink for it.

It has the same setting as my previous Mark Lee X Reader’s stories (Our First Time and Drunk Antics) but if you’re not into Mark (I’m not judging but what is wrong with you) you can just skip those two because this story can be read separately. 

Before dating the socially-awkward, yet utterly adorable Mark Lee, you have had your fair share of relationships that are now reduced into the form of awkward friendships. Your last boyfriend was Lee Donghyuck—who also publicly known as Haechan—and that fact does not sit well with Mark, because well, they were the best of friends. They still are, but it feels like they’re walking on thin ice whenever you’re in the picture so you try your best to stay away from your ex just to make sure everything is all right with the three of you.

Which is quite weird, knowing how close you were with Haechan before.

It was weird in the beginning, but fate really did play a major role in your relationship. You were in your second year of college and you’d managed to pull yourself together by that time, though you hadn’t really made any real friends yet. You weren’t aware of Mark’s existence either at that point, though he probably had with him being your long-time secret admirer after all. You were too busy trying to adapt to the new college and dormitory life, as well as trying to keep your grades up, that you could barely spend some time socializing with people. Project partners and study buddies were really as far as you could go with the term of friendship during your first year.

Your relationship didn’t exactly start as friends with Lee Donghyuck. Even though he had made tons of friends since his orientation days in college, you were certainly not one of them. You didn’t even know he existed in your world, and neither did he. Younger than both you and Mark, Haechan shone like the sun almost in every aspect of his life and unlike you, people had surely noticed that because he was academically smart, physically good-looking, very social and adventurously funny. It didn’t take long before he became popular at your campus. So popular, in fact, that you heard chatters of his name when you walked down the campus’ hallway with your textbooks in your arms. You had only known his name but not his face, so you didn’t really feel nervous or overly excited like any other girls would’ve probably had when you accidentally sat next to him during public speaking class and saw that he had a silly note stuck on his back, pressed against his black hoodie.

“Hey,” you called, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough so the people around you wouldn’t notice. “You’ve got something on your back.”

The boy was young, and he had the smoothest golden skin you’d ever seen on a boy. You would probably kill to have his perfect sun-kissed skin. He had slightly chubby cheeks and a mop of dark brown hair with bangs falling over his eyes. He was slouching forward in his seat with his arms draped over his table, staring lifelessly at the board. His lower lip was jutting out in boredom and slight annoyance, reminding you of a five-year-old boy missing his favorite cartoon. He threw a glance to the side, looking at you with big, chocolate brown eyes, and his eyebrows raised in question.

“What?” He asked and you pointed to the back of his hoodie with your pen.

“I won’t judge if it’s the kind of thing you’re into,” you said, “but I don’t think placing a note behind your back with the words Spank Me, Mama, written on it is the best way to actually, you know, get it.”

He blushed and he blushed so hard that it made you think huh, he’s kinda cute, but you buried the thought right away. You had promised yourself to focus better that year. Falling head over heels for a fellow student on the first day of your new term was not the right way to do it.

“Right, thanks.” He struggled with the note, reaching behind his back as if his skin was on fire. You were about to help when he finally snatched the paper and read the words under his breath, eyes widening in shock.

“I assume that’s not your handwriting?” You were amused but tried your best not to tease him so much.

He did this pout that actually kind of fit his face, probably because he still had that baby face going on. Most of the guys you knew would look immensely disgusting if they pulled that kind of pout. Take your brother, Johnny, for example. Even the thought of him doing that already made you feel like punching your fist against a wall.

“I would weep myself to sleep if my handwriting was this bad,” he grumbled and you smiled secretly to yourself. He turned to you, an awkward grin painting his face. “Sorry, my friends are assholes. Do you happen to know a swamp nearby where I can dump dead bodies without being found out?”

You nod. “I know a place but it’s no longer free, though. They charge you, like, ten thousand won per body. Which is why I’m broke.”

His timid grin grew into a bright smile, probably feeling quite elated that somebody shared the same type of dumb humor as him. “I’m Lee Donghyuck.” He sneaked a hand under a table and you took it for a handshake, answering him with your name. “Thanks for saving my life.”

“Most welcome. You can save me back later when I have the words spank me, daddy, glued to my back.”

“So your friends are assholes too?”

“It’s what people have in common these days, I suppose.”

But when your professor spoke louder to make sure he didn’t any other noise in the room except his own, you had to cut your conversation short and only threw small grins at him every now and then.

When the class ended, you both parted ways with nothing more than a small wave of a hand and a casual, “Well, I guess, I’ll see you later.” You thought it would be too weird to get even friendlier than that, and he probably did too. You admitted that he was cute, but not cute enough for you to ditch your next class and make out with him in the nearest parking lot. You thought you were going to see him again soon anyway, probably the next week when the same class started.

And you were right, but you wished you weren’t because Donghyuck came back to your class the following week looking like a full-course meal.

Donghyuck probably had his hair cut short somewhere on the weekend and it looked absolutely fucking perfect on his head. His bangs were no longer hiding his eyes, and it was clear to you then that Donghyuck with his forehead seen, combined with those thick beautiful eyebrows and mesmerizing round eyes, were really something to behold.

He didn’t notice you were already in the class when he walked in, with his bag slinging on one shoulder. Some rowdy boys were shouting at the back of the room, “Haechan-ah, over here! Saved you a seat!” And Donghyuck grinned at them, waving his hand before he walked toward their seats and you thought Lee Donghyuck is Haechan?! That Haechan?! And mentally slapped yourself on the face when the flashback hit you. You had the chance to talk to one of the most popular boys in school and you talked about swamp and dead bodies.

Absolutely fucking perfect.

After you managed to collect yourself, you couldn’t hold back this urge to sneak a few glances to the back of the class, trying to catch a glimpse of that beautiful forehead of his—which you realized by then that you had some kind of a kink for it—without having him notice you.

But he did. He did notice every time you tried to secretly stare and he reciprocated each time with a smile, raising one of his eyebrows almost dangerously seductive at you and you thought goddamn if that wasn’t the sexiest thing I’ve seen in my twenty years of living I don’t know what is.

You offered your best effort to stay fucking calm despite everything that had been going on in your head, waving one hand at him with a small—hopefully not creepy—smile on your face. You immediately turned around right after, swallowing your breath, and tried not to vomit because your stomach felt like it was about to lurch out of your mouth. It wasn’t really an unpleasant feeling; it was just kind of new to you and you loathed the way your heart was slamming against your ribcages.

Okay, you mentally calmed yourself, get a hold of yourself. No need to panic. He’s just another cute boy, with a cute haircut, and a cute smirk, and a cute forehead and—

You really didn’t like where it was going.

When the class ended—and you didn’t learn a thing about it—you shoved your iPad back into your bag and let out the loudest sigh you had ever made in your sorry life.

“Bad day?”

Haechan’s voice was next to your ear and though you only jerked slightly on the outside, most of your soul had actually gone to heaven—or hell, from all those dirty thoughts you had about him during the last two hours of that lecture.

“Yeah,” you cooly replied. Thank God, your voice didn’t betray you. “My swamp is full again. I have to start looking for a new place.”

AM I SERIOUSLY TALKING ABOUT ANOTHER FUCKING SWAMP—

But Haechan was laughing about it, not too much but the amusement on his face was genuine. “It’s cute that you remember our previous conversation.”

“It’s cute that you do too.”

“Well, actually, that’s what I’ve been thinking about for the last week,” he told you with a smirk on his face. You dared to bet on your life that he was flirting with you and you were about to scream out of joy but you reminded yourself to play it cool.

“I don’t think it’s a conversation worth remembering,” you commented nonchalantly.

“Not if I had it with anyone else.”

You almost fell from your seat. “On second thought, it was a pretty interesting conversation, what with the—”

“Noona.” He suddenly leaned close, laying one hand on your desk to prop his weight. There was that smirk again—the one with his eyebrow raised. “I’m trying to flirt with you and ask you out on a date, if you haven’t noticed.”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears at that point. You had thought about it—about him asking you out—but your imagination did not do justice on how smooth and confident or how goddamn attractive he looked in real life. “Oh.”

“Oh.” He imitated, smirking a bit wider and you were dazed with how bright he shone. “So, can I take you out for lunch? Not anywhere close to swamps full of dead bodies, I swear.” Then after a small pause, he added, “Unless, that’s what you’re into.”

“Shut up,” you retorted, standing up and gathering all your belongings into your arms. “You’re paying.”

He laughed softly to himself, trailing after you with a cheeky grin on his face. “This swamp thing could be our thing, though.”

“Shut up.”

***

Haechan was not one to take it slow, you remember, which is way different from how Mark does things with you.

It wasn’t like Haechan was overly aggressive—as far as boys go, he was pretty normal about the whole dating and sex thing—but he really just head straight to the point whenever he had something in mind, whether it was by a sudden change of topic in your conversation, or acting it out directly with his body.

While Mark tends to plan things, Haechan just did everything out on a whim. You could be talking about science fiction movies at a cafe at one point, and ended up with having your clothes soaked with water by the next few hours because he suddenly felt like the day was too hot and jumping into the campus pool fully clothed was a good idea. You weren’t sure why you’d said yes to all of that when you just barely knew him but Haechan could be very persuasive. So dangerously so, that you would probably say yes to anything.

It was on your third date when he suddenly bent his head down and cut you in the middle of your sentence with a kiss. It was only a small peck, a quick pressing of his plump lips against yours, but it still managed to literally stop you from breathing for a good couple of seconds.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling away with his eyes still staring at your lips. “I was… distracted.”

You knew it was lust in his eyes and you were familiar with yourself enough to know that you usually preferred to have your first kiss after you knew the guy for a certain amount of time. But Haechan—the way he sometimes stared at your lips for a millisecond while you were talking, or hugged you for a few seconds too long before you parted ways—really made you feel special. Made you feel… wanted. And it had been a long time since someone made you feel that way.

So it really didn’t come too much of a surprise that when he dipped his head down to kiss you again, you responded with as much passion as he emitted. You didn’t care that both of you were still standing in the middle of your co-ed dorm’s hallway, though it was empty from how late it was. You had your fingers tangled in his hair as you tiptoed and leaned your entire weight to his body, making him inhale sharply and curl his fingers around the fabric of your dress.

“Again,” he breathed when you pulled away for a split second and immediately brought you back to him again. Haechan had one arm around your waist and another one holding your face, angling your head to the side so he could kiss you deeper.

Haechan was a good kisser—so frighteningly so that it made you feel conscious of how inexperienced you were compared to him. And with the way his hands were moving around your body, you could tell that things were going a bit too fast.

“Haechan—”

The hand that you laid on his chest to give you both some space, was brought over your head as he pressed your body against the door of your room. He kissed you harder, almost knocking your head against the wooden surface, and you could taste the flavor of the lollipop he had on his way back to your dorm. His scent was intoxicating in the best way possible, numbing your mind from thinking how this could probably end up in a bad decision.

“Haechan-ah, wait,” you gasped against his mouth, and when he did, pulling away from you for a few inches to catch his own breath, you noticed that even if you managed to stop him, you probably wouldn’t sound very convincing.

It was really fortunate that although Haechan was a man of passion, he still had the patience to make your consent his priority. “Too fast?” He asked, warm breath fanning against your lips and you really wanted to just close those few inches between you and be smothered with his kisses again.

So you did, and you could feel him smirking into the kiss. The way he slipped his tongue between your mouth made your knees buckle underneath your weight so you clutched onto him as if you were hanging to dear life. Haechan formed this low grunt at the back of his throat that made your skin tingle in delight, knowing that you had that kind of effect on him.

But really, something still didn’t feel right.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, noticing how you fidgeted uncomfortably under his touch. He looked like stopping at this point would be the last thing he wanted to do but he still gave you the space you needed.

You nodded your head slowly at his question. Haechan looked like he had to put his best effort to gain control of his body and move away from you, and you could totally relate at that point, actually. You weren’t really sure why did you even stop him before. It just felt like the right thing to do but at the same time, it was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Haechannie—"

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step away from you and releasing you from his hold. You were surprised by the fact that you almost fell down to the floor when he wasn’t holding you.

“No, don’t be—it was, umm,” You cleared your throat. The collar of your knitted sweater suddenly felt too tight. “It was good.”

“Good?” Haechan asked, smirking as he raised an eyebrow and you thought fuck there’s that look again and you cursed inwardly a few more times for feeling so whipped for his little, seductive eyebrow raise. “I thought that was more than good, Noona.”

“Probably for you,” you wanted to tease but you could hear your voice crack at the end.

“Oh, really?”

And he kissed you again because he never wanted to lose his game. He knew he already had you wrapped under his fingers; he just wanted to make you succumb to him. To have you say how amazing his touches really felt on your skin because he was just that kind of a guy.

And he was winning. Your reaction was exactly the way he wanted you to be, arching your back under his touch, pressing your chest against his, tongue darting out to taste the inside of his mouth better and longer.

“No, wait, timeout.” You pushed him away again and you noticed that his hair was a mess from the work of your fingers and weirdly enough, it only made him ten thousand times hotter.

“Noona, you’re torturing me.” He whined against your shoulder, playfully biting the skin over your clothes. “Do you want me to stop or not?”

Haechan had the habit of whining when things didn’t go his way. It was immature and it would probably look childishly annoying on someone else, but it only made him  that much more adorable. Still annoying most of the time, but always adorable.

“I’m sorry.” You were torn between feeling bad or laughing about it because my God, look at that pout. “Maybe a five-minute break? I could make you some coffee. My roommate is away for the weekend.”

He sighed, the pout on his lips grew even more apparent. “You’re inviting me to your room? At this hour? After this?”

“I’m not going to have sex with you tonight, Lee Donghyuck, just to be clear.”

“Which is the more reason why you shouldn’t be inviting me over then!”

You laughed because his voice was becoming quite high-pitched. “Are you so incapable of using your brain instead of your dick?”

“Noonaaaaa~” He threw his head back in exasperation, which gave you the chance to ogle at the column of his throat. “Seriously, is torturing guys at the end of a date your sick hobby or something?”

“Look, if you stay over, we can still make-out.” You throw a smirk at him, unlocked your door and pushed it wide open. “And I make the most amazing coffee, trust me.”

“Fine,” he exhaled, walking into your room with a suppressed smile on his face. “And I’m only here for coffee, nothing more. Making-out with you is just a bonus.” And you found yourself giggling like a child as he cradled you into his arms and pushed you down to your bed because you both knew, it was the other way around.

***

About a month later, a similar situation happened again and there was no getting out of it.

It started with Haechan coming over to your room on a Sunday afternoon. Your roommate was staying over at her boyfriend’s place again for the weekend, so you had the room to yourself for the entire day. Haechan came unplanned and he’d brought his MacBook with him because, “I know myself well enough that I’d end up playing Overwatch instead of working on my assignment, so could you please be a responsible adult and force me to do my work even if I start crying at your feet?”

Haechan was always the dramatic one in your relationship but you nodded your head and let him in. You brought over some snacks and made him coffee like usual—which he always replied with, “Noona, I don’t want to sound like an ungrateful boyfriend but this coffee tastes like shi—” but was always finished with a pillow smacked to his face, a form of your courtesy.

You were working on your own papers too, sitting on the carpeted floor with your back pressed against the foot of your bed and a MacBook resting on your lap. Your textbooks were sprawled all over the place, and Haechan was lying down on your bed, head falling over the edge. He was looking at his phone, his thumb running up and down the screen.

“Noona?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m bored.”

“Aren’t you supposed to work on your assignment?”

“Finished it already.”

You threw a look over your shoulder, glancing to see him lounging on your bed as if it was his own. Haechan already had his MacBook closed, and was looking at you upside down with a completely bored look on his face. You knew he was smart, but you didn’t know he was that smart when he really put his mind to it.

“Well, that was fast,” you commented.

“No, you’re just doing it painfully slow.”

“Well, sorry for not being as smart as you,” you mumbled, even though you weren’t really annoyed about it. Haechan  huffed and walked closer, sitting closely right behind you, and trapping you between his legs.

“You’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met, though,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist. “What are you working on exactly?”

“I don’t even know, honestly,” you sighed, leaning against his chest, dropping your head on his shoulder. “You wanna order some take-out?”

“Can I eat you for dinner instead?”

“Was that a sex joke, Lee Donghyuck?”

“Could be, if you’re interested.” You could see him wiggling his eyebrows from his reflection on your standing mirror. Both of you looked adorable, if you could say so yourself, wearing a matching white shirt (though not on purpose) and enjoying each other’s warmth with Haechan’s arms wrapped protectively around your figure. You sighed as you admired the sight of Haechan’s features in the mirror.

“Have I told you how sexy you look with your hair pushed back like this?” You asked, reaching out to touch some of his strands and he followed your gaze, looking at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Huh.” He seemed surprised. “It’s the first time you said that actually. What else do you think is sexy about me?”

“Promise you won’t get cocky about it if I tell you?”

“Can’t. You know how I am.”

You sighed but you succumbed to his wish. He praised you from time to time, it was only fair for you to do the same. “The way you dance.”

“You saw me dance?”

“Hm-hmm.”

“When?”

“That time when we went to Jaemin’s party. You were dancing to Billy Jean.”

“You saw that?!” He was flustered, scarlet painting his cheeks and ears. “That was—I thought you were in the bathroom!”

“Well, I was going to but then I saw you and kinda had to stop and stare for a little. You dance more with your hips than with your hands, do you know that? It was kinda hot.”

And just like that, the flabbergasted look on his face was immediately replaced with that Godforsaken cocky smirk again. “Were you turned on back then because of me?”

“A little. Or maybe I just really had to pee.”

“You should’ve said something, you know.”

“And then what? Have sex with you in Jaemin’s room? No freaking way.”

“We could’ve used my car. My hips could do so much more than just dancing, you know.”

“You’re disgusting.” You elbowed him slightly on the stomach to stop him from giggling, before you focused back on your MacBook. “Now, shoo, my boy. Mommy’s gotta work.”

Haechan had his chin on one of your shoulders. “But Noona~”

“I’m studying.”

“I’m bored~” He whined like the baby that he was, nuzzling his nose against the crook of your neck and you flinched slightly when his breath tickled your skin. “Can we make-out? Please pretty pleaseeeee~”

“Give me half an hour to finish this real quick—”

“Noonaaaaaaa~”

“What?” You were trapped between laughing and acting annoyed about it. “I seriously need to study. Didn’t you tell me to be a responsible adult for today?”

“You could also be a responsible adult by making-out with me though.” He chuckled to himself. “We could do adult things if you—”

“No,” you firmly stated though your smile kept on appearing on your face. You pushed a palm against his cheek, playfully shoving him away. “Now, go away, Dongsookie, I really have to study.”

“Fine,” he exhaled loudly against your shoulder and you could practically feel his pout growing on his face. He didn’t let you go, though. He kind of just sat there behind you, still circling his arms around your waist as he lazily stared at the words you were typing on the keyboard. You had trouble concentrating with the way you could feel every time he took in a breath from how close his chest was pressed against your spine but eventually you got the hang of it.

You were already working on your third page when Haechan suddenly had his lips on the side of your neck, lazily suckling on the skin until you could no longer ignore him.

“Haechannie.”

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m playing a game,” he murmured against your skin, licking at the soft skin before he nibbled at it with his teeth. “It’s called how fast can I distract my girlfriend from working over a stupid assignment instead of spending time with me.”

“But I am spending time with you, though.”

“You know what I mean.”

And you had to bite your lip because he had a certain kind of pressure on his words that made your skin tingle in anticipation. His lips were soft but scorching hot as he drew bruises on your skin and it felt so good and dangerous at the same time. It was like standing on a bridge made of glass, both exciting and terrifying.

“You know what I think is sexy about you?” He quietly asked, one hand running down your body, slipping under your shirt and hovering dangerously close to your bra. “The way you say my name when we kiss,” he continued, adding a soft moan when he latched his lips around your earlobe.

You shivered, feeling heat growing on your cheeks. “Haechannie—”

“Yes, like that,” he chuckled, his voice suddenly became deeper. “You’re so sexy, you’re driving me insane.”

You tried your best to ignore him, you really did. But the second he had his warm mouth against your lips, his fingers grabbing your face almost forcefully to turn towards him, you just lost it and you found yourself crawling into his lap, tangling your legs around his waist and moaning against his mouth as he was against yours.

“Noona,” he sighed when you kissed down his neck, as if your every touch was a gift that he craved more and more. He shuddered slightly when you had your hand under his shirt and as if you just pushed the wrong button, he suddenly picked you up by the waist, shoved your textbooks away with one swipe of the back of his hand, and laid you down on the carpeted floor in one swift motion.

“If you keep doing that,” he breathed out heavily, eyes glazed as he stared at your kiss swollen lips. “I won’t be able to stop, even if you beg me to.”

You weren’t sure what came over you but you found yourself hooking your fingers around his necklace and brought his face down, whispering, “Then don’t stop,” directly against his lips.

It was all rush and passion and Haechan was not wasting even a second away before he began to undress you, removing each clothing very easily and you secretly wondered just how many times had he done this before from how smooth he unclasped your bra with one flick of his finger.

He pulled his shirt over his head, his silver necklace hanging loosely around his neck. “Tell me if I’m being too fast,” he said, before he climbed on top of you, throwing the piece of clothing away without a care. Your heart jumped at the sight of him, knowing how this could lead to something more but couldn’t really stop him. Not with the way he had his hands reaching down from the valley of your breasts, down to your stomach, his fingers brushing above the hem of your jeans.

His kiss was always breathtaking, to say the least, but it was a bit different this time because it felt like he was losing control of himself. His kiss was almost forceful, his teeth roughly nibbling at your lower lip before he moved down your chin and found his place in the crook of your neck again. His hand was on your chest, cupping you fully with his palm and let out this sexy groan when he felt you gasping his name against his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re just doing that on purpose now, aren’t you?” He hissed, eyes clouded with lust. He peppered kisses down your chest, lips hovering above your nipple when he said, “You’re being cruel, Noona.” You were tugging at his dark locks when he placed it between his lips, sucking at the sensitive spot, and you tried to hold back your moan but failing every time.

Haechan was giggling to himself, his tongue flicking around the bud. “The way you’re reacting to me is so cute. I didn’t know you were this sensitive.” He ran his tongue across his lower lip, staring at you like he wanted to ravish every part of you, which he probably did. “You’re so goddamn cute.”

“Haechannie.”

“Yeah?”

“I won’t be needing that kind of commentary ever again in the future, thanks,” you uttered, trying your best to focus on his touch and not his words because Haechan could be annoyingly talkative sometimes.

He chuckled again, moving along to land a few kisses on your stomach. “If you’re that sensitive here, how sensitive will you be if I touch you right over…” He trailed a finger down from your belly button to the edge of your underwear. His eyes twinkled gleefully before he rubbed your clit over your underwear. “…here?”

You gave your best strength to stay sane but Haechan’s giggle over your reaction only tortured you even further. “Stop playing around,” you hissed under your breath, pretty sure that you were blushing from ear to ear.

“Playing?” Haechan grinned tauntingly, “I’m being pretty serious, though.” He spread your legs, kissing the inner part of your trembling thigh before he hovered dangerously close to the point you could feel his breath down there. You couldn’t help but gulp in anticipation and Haechan knew that. He knew how much you wanted him to take off your underwear and eat you out like it’s his last meal.

But of course, being the little fucking devil that he was, Haechan only threw you his usual smirk and said, “You know I’d do anything for you, right, Noona? You just gotta beg for it.”

“No way.”

“Otherwise, I wouldn’t know.” He faked a pout. “I’m younger than you, you know. I need you to teach me these things.”

You reciprocated by kicking him right on his abs because as desperate as you were, there was no way in hell you were going to grovel at his feet, begging for him to please you. “All right, all right, I’m sorry, geez!” Haechan said, laughing as he successfully dodged two of your first kicks. Soon after, he grabbed your moving legs, carefully placed them on his sides and ran his hands slowly from your legs to your thighs. He took a long glance at your body, sighing like it was some kind of beautiful torture for him to take. “You don’t even realize how hot you are, do you?” He leaned closer and grabbed you by your chin, locking both of your gazes together. “Do you even know how hard I am right now because of you?”

It was a rhetorical question, clearly, because you could definitely tell how hard and hot he was pressing against you, even if his jeans and your underwear were still on the way.

“God, just—” you gasped when he slipped a knee between your legs, pressing it against your core. “Just stop being a fucking tease and fuck me already, Donghyuck.”

And he grinned against your skin. “Fucking finally.” You heard him say under his breath, before he carried you in his arms and moved you to the bed. It felt somewhat scary, how fast he was being, because you had only experienced sex once and it was the painfully awkward kind of sex with your high school boyfriend and you didn’t really have the chance to practice it with anyone else while it seemed to you, at this point, was clearly not the case for him.

Haechan had his eyes on you, all half-lidded with lust and passion, as he unbuckled the belt of his jeans and you had to gulp at the sight. He didn’t really have six-pack abs like Jaehyun—considering your boyfriend was quite an athlete during his senior days—but his shoulders were broad, his chest was toned, his stomach was lean and his skin, as it glistened slightly with sweat, was just absolutely breathtaking.

“Enjoying the view?” He asked, and you knew how he’d always been cocky in his entire life, but he’d never been this cocky. “You’re practically drooling.”

“I am not,” you retorted but you lacked confidence. Haechan grabbed a condom from the pocket of his jeans before he climbed back into the bed with his jeans unbuttoned.

“Why do you already have a condom with you?”

“Because I came prepared.”

“I thought you said you wanted to study.”

“Among other things,” he grinned against your lips and shushed down your next protest. “I will be studying your body, if you give me the chance.”

“That was so lame.” But even your insult couldn’t mask how nervous you sounded, especially when Haechan was settling himself between your legs again, fingers hooking around your underwear.

“Final chance if you want me to stop, Noona,” he said though it felt like it was almost impossible for him to stop. “I’m serious. After this, I won’t stop even if you cry.”

You swallowed your breath, heart thrumming loud against your chest. “Just do whatever you want,” you answered, almost too quiet for even your ears to hear but Haechan’s eyes gleamed in anticipation.

“That’s my girl,” he said, grabbing your thighs and spreading your legs apart before he leaned in to taste your mouth again. “I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.”

You realized you were holding your breath when Haechan wrapped the condom around his length and he had his eyes on you before he pushed in, asking with an unexpected low voice of his, “Ready?”

But he did not wait for an answer and you found yourself hissing when he pushed in, slowly at first and suddenly all at once. You twisted your fingers against the bed sheet, biting your lower lip because it hurt trying to adjust to his size and Haechan was a little bit lost in his own thoughts, muttering, “Fuck, you’re so tight,” under his breath, slightly throwing his head back out of pleasure. “Noona, you’re so fucking tight. Do you know that?”

He leaned closer to you, chest pressing against your breasts as he mouthed against the skin of your shoulder and slowly began to move his hips. “You all right?” He asked, making eye contact after a while and you shakily nodded your head, though the pain was still there. “Then I’ll move faster.”

You almost hit your head against your headboard when he suddenly picked up the pace, thrusting into you hard and deep; it knocked the breath out of your lungs. “Haecha—” you could barely speak at that point, arms clutching tight to his back, nails raking against his spine.

“Fuck,” he uttered between heavy breaths as he sat on his knees, holding both of your legs in the air, almost splitting your body in half and pushed deeper. “How the fuck do you feel this good, I—” he ended his sentence short, kissing your ankle instead, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wanna keep you—you’re so pretty like this, Noona—so fucking pretty—”

Haechan was always good with his words but at that time, he was making incoherent noises at the back of his throat, jumping from one sentence to another as if he was thinking about several things at once and he was running out of time.

“Haechan, wait—s-slow down—” You placed a hand on his shoulder, tears forming in your eyes. “You’re moving too fast—It hurts—”

Haechan was unfocused, but the last two words that slipped from your mouth brought him back to reality. He stopped almost immediately, looking at you with eyes searching your face. “Does it hurt?” He asked and you nodded, your body shaking a little bit. His gaze softened, cupping your cheek in his hand before he slowly pulled out of you. “I’m sorry, come here.” He cradled you into his arms, sitting down on the bed and helped you climb into his lap. “Maybe if we do it this way,” he said, wiping a tear from your eye with his thumb, “You’ll feel better?”

You could feel him twitching below you, the tip of his cock pressing against your folds. Haechan stayed true to his promise, he wasn’t going to stop even if you cried and that’s fine because you didn’t want him to.

“Take your time,” Haechan said, smiling gently in a way that was so not him that it made you feel weird. You could tell that he was trying to keep himself calm and composed even when all he wanted to do was to fuck you senselessly.

He pushed inside again, but let you take control of the pace this time. You slid down slowly, wincing slightly at the friction but it no longer hurt as much. Haechan was staring at you the entire time, unconsciously licking his lower lip when you slowly began to bounce on his lap.

“Kiss me,” he demanded and you did, sharing his breath and his moans, and tangling your hands in his hair. When he felt your body relaxing against him, he grabbed you by the waist and suddenly thrust forward, making you gasp and clenched your legs together.

“Fuck,” he moaned under his breath, hissing at how perfect you felt around him. “Noona, you can be mad at me as much as you want after this but for now let me just—” he groaned, furrowing his eyebrows at the feeling of him sliding in and out of you. “Just let me fuck you the way I want.”

And you found yourself thrown back to the bed with him thrusting into you deep and raw, faster and much more forceful than before. His nails were sinking into your skin from how hard he was holding you by your hips, keeping you still as he rocked his hips forward as hard and as fast as he liked. Expletives were falling from his lips between his low grunts and breathy moans and you couldn’t help but sob a little at how strong he was going. It felt painfully amazing, and you knew your body wasn’t making any sense, and it surprised you when your orgasm hit you like a wave, just a few seconds before he reached his. You honestly never thought that something so painful could also bring this much pleasure and you wanted to be mad at him but you couldn’t even find the energy to keep yourself up.

You fell down to the bed with Haechan toppling on top of you almost immediately, chest heaving fast as he tried to bring back some air into his lungs.

“Holy fucking hell,” he said, breathing heavily at the juncture of your neck. “That was so good. This is probably the first time I—”

“Haechannie.”

“Oh right, shit!” He immediately jumped away, giving you some space and gently placed his palm on the side of your face, checking your condition. “Are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere? Noona, I’m so sor—Yah!“

You pinched him by the nose, glowering at him with the little strength you have left and you didn’t let go even if he was tapping frantically against the back of your hand, asking for time-outs before you broke his bones.

Well, he said you could be mad at him all you want. It was time for him to face your wrath and it was not going to be pretty.

***

It wasn’t long until your name became a famous topic to discuss around the hallway too and it felt weird yet exciting at the same time, because it was true. You were dating Lee Haechan. And no matter how many times you had to convince yourself that it wasn’t solely your imagination, it still felt unreal.

Because Haechan was shining like the sun, and you couldn’t really shine as bright.

It suddenly felt like high school all over again when you’d once dated the Prom King, Jung Jaehyun, where people always talked behind your back, making comments about your face, or your body, or your attitude and how every aspect of your life did not fit the legendary high school prince that was Jung Jaehyun. It had gotten so much into your head that you had to break up with him, and hating yourself for over a year on how weak you’d become.

Dating Haechan was similar but different in the way he treated you. Jaehyun was too kind, not really saying anything back to anyone who said awful things about you and instead, just told you to not pay any mind about it. Haechan was much braver in saying the things that came to mind, so whenever he heard people talking trash about you, he would come up to them with words laced with venom. It was kind of childish, the way he got worked up rather easily, and even more childish when he continued to pout and fume about it even after a whole day had passed.

“Seriously, I said I’m fine,” you once said to him, entering his Hyundai after he opened the door for you.

“Well, I’m pissed off,” he said, unconsciously closing the door a bit too hard, making you flinch slightly. He walked to the other side of the car, sinking to his seat behind the wheel and exhaled loudly.

“Haechannie.”

“What?” His tone was still a bit harsh, but you knew he didn’t mean to shout at you.

“Thank you for defending me,” you softly said, reaching out for his hand. “But at this point, you’re gonna be mad with literally everyone and anger does not look pretty on you.”

“But aren’t you pissed, though? They literally have no business whatsoever to—”

“I know.” You squeezed his hand. “Look if it gets worse, we can always plan out something. There’s this perfect swamp I know outside of town.”

And Haechan couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he was right, that swamp thing could really be your thing. “You and your stupid swamp,” he muttered, shaking his head in amusement as he grabbed your face for a kiss. “Can we have sex at your place today?”

You sighed. It was always like this when it came to him.  “Sure, why not.”

Because certainly, you weren’t complaining.

***

#lee donghyuck #lee haechan #haechan #nct haechan #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #mark lee #haechan smut #lee haechan smut #nct fanfic #haechan imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #mark lee smut #haechan x reader #donghyuck x you #nct dream haechan #haechan x you #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #haechan scenarios #nct #mine #sundaysundaes

[spooky-z]

FACT CHECK

3.6K

Maribat by @ozmav

Of all the investigations Alya had done in the name of journalism, finding out that Chloe Bourgeois and Marinette Dupain-Cheng were dating had been... disheartening.

Lila had told her she noticed the strange behavior of Chloe and Marinette, suspecting that the two were together, but Alya dismissed the idea because Chloe and Marinette dating? This could only be a joke.

But it was when Alya also noticed the behavior of the two girls and decided to investigate, that the truth came out.

Lila was right. She would never doubt her best friend again.

Knowing that the Queen of Hearts and Gremhilde were in a relationship came as a shock to Alya, but knowing the reason for that relationship was indeed sad.

Because fake a relationship to get Adrien's attention? That was beyond pathetic.

Alya knew that Marinette was jealous of Lila for being close to Adrien, and possibly was dating the model in secret - the Italian was being difficult to drop the word, despite the continuous blush being all the confirmation that the journalist needed -, which she feels sorry for the designer.

She also knew that Chloe did not love Adrien, but she was unhappy with the fact that the boy was no longer her private toy and that he had despised her in favor of true friends.

But setting up a crazy plan to get the boy's attention was a new level of insanity for both girls. They needed to understand that no meant no.

It was no surprise to Alya that Chloe acted in retaliation, but Marinette with Chloe? Alya felt sorry for her ex best friend.

Alya hadn't told the class yet because she didn't want to humiliate Marinette in front of everyone, but she told Lila, because she deserved to know the truth.

She was sitting in her place in the classroom, next to Nino and behind Adrien and Lila. Mlle. Bustier had given them free time, as long as they didn't leave their seats and keep the conversation low.

Chloe's snorting laughter echoed through the room from moment to moment, Marinette trying to control the blonde and Sabrina looking like she wanted to fall into a fit of laughter. The three problems of the Mlle. Bustier’s class together.

"It's sad, you know?" Lila sighed at her. She and Adrien facing Alya and Nino's table so they can talk. "They force themselves to act like they're happy just to get attention."

"What do you mean, dudete?" Nino questioned confused.

"It's kind of obvious that they keep doing these things to get their attention." Lila had a sad look in her eyes. "If they weren't so mean to me, I wouldn't mind being friends with them."

Alya felt her heart ache for her best friend. She suffered so much at the hands of the three and yet there she was, wanting to make friends with her bullies.

"You don't have to feel guilty, girl." She squeezed Lila's hand on the table. "They don't deserve your friendship, do they, Adrien?"

The boy had a complicated expression on his face, but he nodded cautiously. "Sure..."

Alya did not understand certain behaviors that Adrien had. Of course, the boy lived for years trapped in the ivory tower that was the Agreste mansion, but she thought that after hanging out with them for so long, he would have come out of his shell, but it looked like she was wrong.

At least, from what Lila said, he was much more open to her when they were alone. She hoped that this would soon change in relation to her friends.

▫▪▪

The next day, she was casually checking her blog, noting the decline in her popularity, before checking OTS-OnTheSpot. The blog that had debuted in the news world, being the rival of Ladyblog.

Alya was increasingly irritated by Ladybug's clear preference for the new blog over Ladyblog. Of course, the person - because nobody knew who it was and Max was unable to track the IP - obviously had better equipment than Alya, who only worked with the phone, but for Ladybug to betray her like that, it had been a slap in the face.

Somehow OTS got the best photos, the best videos, the best interviews, but no one ever got a glimpse of who the journalist was. Not even Chat Noir - she had asked - knew who the person behind the blog was, since he had never been interviewed before.

That was the other problem she had with OTS.

The person clearly focused on all miraculous and non-miraculous heroes, except Chat Noir. In fact, the times the blog touched on the cat hero's name, it was to mock his behavior in the middle of the battle. Not to mention, they were clearly a RoBug shipper - Robin and Ladybug - which, in Alya's opinion, was an insult to the black dots hero.

Everyone knew that LadyNoir was the real couple there. Chat Noir had confirmed in the last interview that Alya got of the hero.

She was wallowing in self-pity when Lila hurried into the classroom, drawing everyone's attention. All but Chloe who was messing with the phone, Nathaniel who drew on the tablet and Sabrina, who wrote something on a notepad. Marinette as always, late.

"Alya!" Lila ran to her. "You will not believe what I just saw."

The girl rose quickly from her chair, her journalistic senses on alert.

“What was that girl? Is it an akuma?”

With that, both Chloe and Adrien turned to the two.

The Italian shook her head in denial.

"No. It's Marinette.” She takes a deep breath, catching her breath. "Marinette was kissing a very scary guy in front of the school."

"WHAT?!" Alya shouted. "Are you sure it was her?"

Lila nodded frantically. "Absolutely sure. When they walked away, I saw her face and I also heard him call her name.”

Alya sat back in her chair in shock. Incredulous that Marinette would do something so dirty just to get attention.

"I think she realized that the plan with Chloe wouldn't work and tried to get attention in another way." Lila sighed. Only Nino and Adrien being able to hear their conversation.

The DJ frowned in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

Adrien was pale, but he didn't open his mouth to say anything.

"We found that-"

"MARIN!" Chloe squeaked in the background, running into Marinette's arms.

Alya and Lila were suddenly silent, watching the scene unfold. Alya had a sour taste in her mouth, disgusted by the way Marinette managed to act like nothing was happening. As if she weren't dirty.

"Hey, Coco." The brunette said, hugging Chloe. "Sorry for the delay, I had some things to resolve."

Chloe moved away from her; hands clasped together. "No problem." She smiled. It was rare for the class to see such a sincere smile coming from Chloe. "Come. I want to show you something that Timochi and I found earlier.” And he pulled the girl up the stairs, greeting Sabrina and Nathaniel on the way.

For a moment, Alya considered leaving this problem alone.

Sure, Marinette and Chloe deserved to be exposed to their friends, but technically neither was doing anything wrong. None attacked or did anything to harm Adrien, so no damage was done.

But then Alya remembered the smile that Chloe had shown when she saw Marinette.

This was not a fake or staged smile. That was a genuine and affectionate smile. Then Alya came to the conclusion that Chloe did indeed liked Marinette, while Marinette was only using the blonde as a springboard to reach Adrien.

The journalist might as well have ignored this discovery and let Chloe break her heart, as a vengeance for everything Bourgeois had done against them, but she failed. Alya was a fair girl. She couldn't sleep peacefully knowing that Marinette was playing with someone's feelings.

Even if that someone was Chloe Bourgeois.

She got up from the chair, facing the back of the room and Marinette. Lila had long since moved away to her chair beside Adrien.

Alya was furious.

“Marinette, aren't you ashamed of yourself? Act like nothing is wrong. I didn't know you could be that cold and calculating.” She caught everyone's attention again, especially Marinette.

Marinette sighed, her elbow resting on the table, she laid her head on her palm. There was an air of boredom around her. Chloe, Sabrina and Nathaniel with unimpressed looks on their faces.

“What did I do this time, Alya? I knocked Lila down the stairs? I hit Lila with a piece of wood? I stole Lila's ideas again?” The disinterested tone irritated the journalist even more.

"No, although all the statements are real, I am not talking about that." Alya spat. "I'm talking about you being a fake and dirty person, who's using Chloe in your sordid little game."

Everyone in the classroom began to whisper fervently, curious about the newest drama in the class.

"What?!" Chloe said without a voice. The expression on the blonde's face was pure disbelief.

Marinette raised an eyebrow, moving from her relaxed posture to a stiff one.

"What are you accusing me of this time, Alya?"

"I'm talking about you and Chloe dating and you cheating on her with someone in front of the school!" Alya shouted angrily.

Marinette whistled, unimpressed.

"I still don't know what you're talking about."

“I know everything, Marinette Dupain-Cheng! Don't you dare deny it!” The girl sidestepped Nino's hand, who was trying to calm his girlfriend. "I know about your silly plan to pretend to be dating Chloe just to get Adrien's attention and that Chloe likes you!"

Marinette stared at Alya without reaction and Alya celebrated it, believing she had won the argument.

That, of course, until Chloe, Marinette, Sabrina, and Nathaniel fell into a fit of violent laughter. Scaring all the students and leaving Alya surprised.

"What are you laughing at?!" Lila stood up to defend Alya. "It is true! We know everything!”

Sabrina was the first to compose herself, wiping away the tears that had escaped by the force of laughter. "Really? What else do you know?”

"I don't understand what you're laughing at!" Alya snarled, before turning to Chloe. “You should be thanking us for exposing Marinette. Hello, is she cheating on you!?”

"Alya, dear and innocent, Alya." Nathaniel sighed. Some laughter still escaping. "Where did you get that Chloe and Marinette are dating each other?"

Alya snorted indignantly at the mockery. "What are you talking about? Lila-“

“Oh, of course. Lila.” Chloe rolled her eyes. "The most reliable source of news you can find." The acidity in the words did not go unnoticed by anyone.

"Hey!" Coming from offended Lila.

"Sure, you're not wrong to assume that Chloe and I had something, since well, we dated for a while." Marinette started.

“Aha! So, you assume you were in a relationship!” Alya pointed.

Marinette raises an eyebrow. "Everyone here knows that, Alya." She sighed tiredly. "Chloe and I dated for a while at Collège, but we broke up before Lycée."

"What...?!" Alya murmured. "But you hated each other!"

"... They are telling the truth, Alya." Nino looked away, intimidated by Alya's anger. “You and Lila didn't know that because you entered Dupont at the Lycée, but the rest we did. I think Adrien, too, since Chloe and he are childhood friends.”

“Okay, so, you guys dated. But how do you explain this sudden approach now? You obviously hated each other.” Alya insisted.

Chloe snorted impatiently, maybe even a little irritated by Alya's attitude.

“It's called maturing, Alya. Do you know what is this?" The blonde crossed her arms. “Marin and I talked and came to the conclusion that we still like each other enough to become friends. That fighting wasn't getting us anywhere.”

“It still doesn't explain why you are so lovey-dovey. Let's be rational here, this love is at least suspect.” Lila pointed. There was a calculating air around her.

"Friendships are different for everyone, Liela." Marinette replied dryly. “I was never a person to curb my feelings whatever they are. I like to show my friends how much I appreciate them and they do the same for me because that's how friendship is. The support is mutual.”

"But waiting for you to understand this can be too much, since you probably don't know what it is like to have feelings other than pride, envy and dislike." Chloe waved her hand dismissively.

Lila's eyes flashed dangerously, before changing to a painful expression. The crocodile tears running down her cheeks.

“Why are you like that, Chloe? I tried my best to be friends with you, but you seem to hate me!” She sniffed and Alya was next to the girl, trying to comfort her. "If I were that bad, I would have already exposed your plan to get Adrien's attention, since you and Marinette are obsessed with him-" She brought her hands to her mouth, an expression of regret on her face. “I shouldn't have said that. I'm so sorry!" She went back to 'crying'.

Everyone in the room turned to look at Adrien's expression, who seemed lost. Eyes wide, mouth open. He looked in Marinette's direction as if trying to assemble a 500-piece puzzle.

Chloe murmured an 'oh please' tired of all the drama. Marinette didn't seem at all shaken by being exposed in front of the boy she loved. Nathaniel and Sabrina were just enjoying the show, while eating the macaroons that Marinette had brought.

"You don't have to apologize, Lila." Marinette replied calmly, making Lila swallow the fake tears and look at the girl. She realized that her attack had no desired effect. "My feelings for Adrien died the day he asked me to take the high road and let you lie." She looked at the model who looked chastened, before turning back to Lila. "I understood what he meant by that, but the fact that he prioritized your feelings over mine, killed any traces of love I had for him."

Alya gasped in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

Lila's eyes widened in panic. "Is nothing-"

"Oh, that's right." Marinette shook her head condescendingly. “You still believe that everything Lila says is true. Even the most absurd things.”

"Again with that story, Marinette?!" Kim complained angrily. "We know you made this up because you were jealous of Lila."

Nathaniel made a confused sound. "Why would Marinette be jealous of Lila?"

"Because Lila and Adrien are dating!" Alya screamed at the boy's lack of awareness.

“Alya! This was supposed to be a secret!” Lila hid her face with her hands.

"WHAT?!" Adrien got up from the chair surprised by the new information. "We aren’t-"

"... But Marin, haven't you been dating Damian since half of Lycée's first year?" Sabrina asked confused.

Marinette sighed at the whole situation.

"I am. But it seems that people still live in the past.”

"You don't have to lie to us just because you're ashamed, Marinette." Lila said sweetly. "We don't judge anyone here."

Chloe got up from her chair, clapping her hands on the table. "OK, that's it." She picked up the phone and dialed someone, everyone froze thinking she was calling the mayor. “Timo, please come and get us. I'm sick of having to share the same air as a bunch of imbeciles.” The person on the other end seemed to agree, because soon Chloe hung up and picked up her things from the table.

Marinette, Sabrina and Nathaniel soon following the blonde's example.

Sabrina had a thick folder in her hand, where it dropped heavily on Max's table. Chloe, on the other hand, left a pile of paper on Lila's and Nathaniel's on Alya's. Marinette came down the stairs in calm steps. Never failing to face the two girls.

“At Max's desk is a compilation of all Lila's lies. We managed to put this together in less than two hours, as her lies are not really good.” She started. Lila swallowing hard behind Alya. "At Lila's table and yours, orders to cease and desist on behalf of Prince Ali, Jagged, Clara, XY, Bruce Wayne, Style Queen and of course, Ladybug."

"WHAT?!" Lila and Alya shouted together.

Marinette didn't even blink at their reaction.

"I didn't intend to do anything against you, as we are in Lycée's senior year and I would finally be free of your mental games, Lila." She looked at the Italian. “But today you really pissed me off. Because in addition to accusing me of plotting to gain Adrien's attention, you accused me of being unfaithful and that is something I do not admit.”

"Dudete, don't you think you're being a little extreme?" Nino tried to ease the situation with Marinette.

The girl snorted in mockery, going back down the stairs, towards the door. And at the door, there was an unknown and scary-looking boy standing against the wood.

"Think on the bright side Nino: at least this way, your girlfriend will learn to check the facts first, before posting on her failed blog and Lila will learn to keep her lying tongue in her mouth."

Alya snarled in anger.

"And how do we know it is not a trick?"

Marinette stopped beside the boy, her hand resting on his broad chest and turned to Alya.

"Now Alya, just a search on google refutes all the bullshit that Lila has been spitting on you." She raised her eyebrow and the girl soon did as she was told, growing pale with every second she remained looking at the screen. “See how easy it is to check the facts? The internet nowadays, huh. Who knew?” She laughed as if she had told a very funny joke.

Adrien frowned at the girl's behavior, disappointed that she had done that. He thought they were in this together, but apparently, he was alone.

"Marinette-" The blonde tried to speak.

“Oh! I remembered something." She hit her fist against her open palm. "Lila, there are police and immigration agents waiting for you at the school door."

The entire class rose from their seats, still shaken by Marinette's revelations and Markov's confirmation that, yes, Lila was a dirty liar.

"... What?" Lila murmured weakly. It seemed that all the blood had left the Italian's body so pale she was.

"Did you think that willingly helping an emotional terrorist would not have consequences, Lila?" Marinette tilted her head innocently. "Wow. You are really deluded.” She hissed in shock.

The Italian fell without reaction to the floor. She had been defeated at her own game.

"Emotional terrorist...?" Adrien gasped. "Hawkmoth?! Was Lila helping Hawkmoth?”

“Yeap. We have evidence in videos, photos and audios. Not to mention that he admitted earlier today when the heroes invaded his operational base.” Marinette waved excitedly.

Adrien froze at the information. "But, but-"

"How do you know all this?!" Alya demanded.

“Didn't you know, Alya? I am OTS.” Marinette replied cynically, a bad smile on her face. "Ladybug gave an exclusive interview to my blog that must have aired two minutes ago."

Everyone was quick to pick up their tablets or phones to do what Marinette had said.

"You-you-" The journalist stuttered without knowing how to react.

“Now I have to go and let the law enforcement officers do their job. Bye!" She waved as she followed the boy from before, away from the classroom.

It was only when the officers entered the classroom to drag Lila out, that Alya realized what she had done and said.

She was a terrible journalist.

BONUS:

"... Cheers to the miraculous team, Robin, Red Robin, Super Boy and Spoiler!" The group of friends shouted, pounding the crystal glasses against each other.

“Another cheers for Lila Rossi having her ass delivered!” Chloe shouted excitedly, making friends laugh and accompany her.

"Today was a day of victory so let's celebrate as long as we can." Marc said snuggling up to Nathaniel who was almost dozing, despite all the noise.

"You had to see Alya's face when we threw the facts in her face." Sabrina hugged Stephanie, a little drunk on champagne.

"We saw it, Rina." The blonde replied, amused by the girl's behavior. "Timbers installed hidden cameras around the classroom for that purpose."

"What I thank my love for." Chloe told the boy, who was hugging her. "If it weren't for you, we would only relive that moment in memories."

"You're welcome Queenie." Tim kissed the girl's cheek affectionately.

"When are we going to visit Chat Noir, Hime?" Kagami asked Marinette. The two were curled together, with Damian on Marinette's back and Kagami between her legs.

"It would be a good idea for us to do this as soon as possible, so that he doesn't have time to use the ring for something bad." Damian kissed Marinette's head while his arms held Kagami against them. "Who knows what's going on in that boy's head."

Marinette sighed thoughtfully. Half melted between her lovers. "Tonight, we will approach Adrien Agreste."

"I hope he doesn't throw a tantrum." Jon groaned from where he was lying with Luka. "I don't have the patience to deal with him."

"I think he will be too distracted by his mother's return to react negatively." Luka murmured, another who was almost asleep. “Adrien may have a closed mind in some ways, but he is not a bad kid. He just needs someone to guide him on the right path.”

"I hope Emillie is that someone." Nathaniel replied sleepily.

All of them agreeing with the boy.

[tag list]

@saays-bitch @xxmdsxx @nicknnie @iamablinkmarvelarmy @damianette-is-life 

#maribat #kagadaminette #ml x dc #chlotim #luka x jon #stephanie x sabrina #ml salt #adrien salt #lila salt #lila bashing #alya salt #nathmarc