#maybe a part of the reason is that His classmates have really no idea what Izuku is going through | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hooniblr · 1 month

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𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 (𝐘𝐄𝐓) 𝐈𝐈𝐈

PAIRING ▸ nishimura riki x female feader

WORD COUNT ▸ 4.4k

GENRE ▸ high school au, brother’s best friend au, fluff, angst

SYNOPSIS ▸ After spending the better part of your adolescent life crushing on your brother’s best friend, you finally decide to call it quits on your unrequited feelings when you come to the conclusion that’s all they will ever be—unrequited. The only problem is that getting rid of these feelings that have been lurking in your heart is much more difficult than you anticipated. Especially because the object of your affections keeps making it hard for you to move on.

Or the one where everyone ends up with emotional turmoil.

WARNINGS ▸ reader as sunoo’s twin sister, riki as sunoo’s bestie, feat. some of the newjeans members, misunderstandings, pining, slow burn, hurt feelings, mentions of claustrophobia, reader has a panic attack, hoonie is kind of mean in this one (sorry lol)

NOTE — if your user has a line through it that means you could not be tagged! please change your settings so i don’t remove you from the taglist! mdni banner made by @/benkeibear

Nishimura Riki was many things, but an unhelpful jerk was not one of them. Those close to him knew that he could never ignore a person in need. Every time he was asked for help, he would do just about anything in his power to do just that. It was near impossible for him to say no, and the situation he suddenly found himself in was no exception.

“Please?”

Song Yura’s clasped hands were resting under her chin prettily, her pleading eyes shining brilliantly like she was holding back tears. Riki’s expression softened because like most guys in his school, he couldn’t bear to say no to one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen. And while he didn’t immediately agree to her request, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t being swayed.

Okay, so the favor she needed was borderline unreasonable and downright toxic, but a large part of Riki didn’t care because it directly involved messing with Lee Heeseung.

“Can’t you just tell that idiot how you feel?” Riki’s tone was slightly rough. “Using me to make him jealous isn’t going to make him want you.”

Yura scowled at him. “How do you know? Jealousy is a powerful emotion.”

Riki’s jaw ticked. He knew that her stupid plan had a 95% chance of failing because anyone with eyes could tell that Heeseung was down bad for you. And as much as it killed him to witness it, he was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

“Whatever you say.” Riki scoffed. “I still think this is a terrible idea.”

His friend only blinked at him before a victorious smirk slowly spread on her lips. She didn’t hear a no. “But you’ll help me, right?”

Riki’s tongue poked the corner of his lips, narrowed eyes glaring at the shorter girl with resignation. Maybe he would come to regret his decision, but if he could help his friend while getting that jerk away from you, then so be it.

“Yeah. I will.”

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Sunghoon was usually not one to pay attention to rumors, but even he couldn’t avoid hearing that Nishimura Riki and Song Yura were talking. It’s not a rumor that particularly interested him since he didn’t really care about his cousin’s love life. However, it did break his heart for you. In spite of what you wanted him to believe, he knew you never really got over your crush on Riki.

That’s why he disregards reason and goes out to look for you when he heard some of his classmates talking about the new hot couple of the school. Maybe it was foolish of him to do so because he was the one to walk away from you in the first place, yet he couldn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be there should you be in need of comfort.

Except when he made it outside and saw you just a few feet away from the school’s entrance, he belatedly realized that you had already found a source of comfort in the form of Lee Heeseung.

The sight made Sunghoon feel sick. You seemed oblivious to the way the taller boy was staring at you with a stupid look on his face. It made his stomach turn with bitter jealousy. From the looks of it, he could tell that your involvement with Heeseung went beyond a simple friendship. It killed him to see just how brightly you smiled at Lee Heeseung. You claimed to not have any feelings for him, but maybe you were just in denial.

And now, Sunghoon could only watch with a crestfallen face as Heeseung handed you a cute little box. Your eyes lit up brightly to the point that it looked like they were nearly sparkling. It killed him to see how prettily you smiled when you opened the box and pulled out a star necklace.

Heeseung smiled softly. “Do you like it?”

“It’s so pretty.” You couldn’t keep the excitement out of your voice.

You gently place the necklace back in its box before throwing your arms around your friend. When he said he’d get you a prize for finally beating him in a match, you thought he was just going to treat you to a meal or something. “Thanks, Hee.”

Sunghoon refused to watch any further, turning on his heel and walking away from the sight that made him feel like someone punched him in the gut. Right then he decided that he was going to get to the bottom of your relationship with Lee Heeseung even if it was the last thing he did.

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You were going to kill Minji.

When you told her she could invite people to join you for karaoke, you didn’t think she would be stupid enough to invite Jungwon. It’s not like you had anything against him, but anywhere he went, your brother and Riki followed. This wouldn’t have been such a big problem had you not been avoiding Riki and if you hadn’t invited Heeseung to come along with you.

And to make matters worse, Heeseung brought along his friends which included resident puppy boy, Jake Sim. Much like Jungwon, you had nothing against Jake, but he happened to bring along your insufferable ex and his lovely cousin who he was apparently very close to.

“Should we get something to eat first?” Danielle wondered, trying to ease the obvious tension and discomfort that surrounded the group.

“There’s a chicken restaurant by the karaoke place.” Sunoo said cheerfully. “Let’s go there.”

A chorus of agreements paired with Jay and Jake’s enthusiastic cheers broke some of the lingering animosity, but not completely. As everyone walked in the direction of the restaurant, you quickly pulled Heeseung aside. Your eyes were wide with anger, and it wasn’t just because of the fact that Sunghoon kept staring at you.

“What the fuck, Heeseung?” You hissed, slapping your friend’s arm. “Why would you let Jake bring him?”

“Why did you let Minji bring Nishimura?” Heeseung countered, feeling like he was about to pop a vein.

“I didn’t know she invited them! I don’t want to see him with Yura any more than you do.”

It wasn’t like they were making out in front of you or anything, but they were giggling and whispering to each other like they were in their own little world. Also, Riki had casually slung one of his long arms across Yura’s shoulders, keeping her close to him as they walked. Just seeing them all hugged up was enough for you to consider ending your night early.

“I’m sorry.” Heeseung sighed, knowing that now you were not only forced to see your crush with someone else, but also forced to tolerate your idiot of an ex. “You think they’ll notice if we leave?”

Hearing you laugh was a relief. Maybe the night could be salvaged after all.

“I told you your plan wouldn’t work.” Riki whispered through gritted teeth. “Your little boyfriend could care less that you’re here.”

Yura pouted, chancing a glance back to where she could hear the sound of a cute laugh. It was true. Heeseung was so engrossed with watching you giggle that he didn’t seem to notice how close her and Riki had gotten. Not that she could blame him. You were especially pretty when you laughed.

With a huff, Yura looked straight ahead. “Whatever. The night isn’t over yet.”

Riki looked back. His eyes landed on a sullen Sunghoon who hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since he and Yura arrived. It’s not like Riki felt bad for him or anything. He saw firsthand how devastating your breakup with him had been. However, in that moment Riki almost felt like he understood exactly how Sunghoon was feeling.

Seeing you laugh happily with Lee Heeseung made Riki physically sick. Especially after you sent him a text asking him to just let it go this once since you technically couldn’t avoid Heeseung at this point. It made him more upset than he thought was possible.

Dinner went by in a forgettable blur which you were grateful for. So far, you and Heeseung had done a decent job at hiding how devastating it was to see Yura and Riki together. It wasn’t until the group was going into the karaoke place that your night started to sour.

“Y/N.” Sunghoon’s voice was soft as he gently pulled on the sleeve of your jacket. “Can we talk?”

Unfortunately, Heeseung was the first one inside since he was eager to out-sing everyone which meant you would have to deal with Sunghoon alone. You let the group go ahead, giving Danielle and Minji a small nod so they wouldn’t feel bad about leaving you alone.

A frown lined your lips as you faced Sunghoon. “What do you want?”

Your voice was cold and distant, and Sunghoon felt himself deflate. “I want us to go back to the way we used to be. Before… everything, we used to be friends. Now, you can barely even look at me, and I hate it.”

His unreasonable request made you scoff. You’re not sure why he thought you two could ever be friends or anything close to that again. There was a building tightness in your throat as you tried not to unleash all of your stifled emotions.

“That’s not going to happen. I got over what happened between us, but that doesn’t mean I want you around.”

“Why?” Sunghoon demanded. “Because of Heeseung?”

He was overstepping, but you somehow managed to keep your emotions in check long enough to answer him. “So what if it is?”

“Does he know how you feel about Riki?” It was a low blow, but Sunghoon was too upset to take his words back.

Your icy gaze got colder, and it was taking everything in you not to hit Sunghoon like you wanted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Now it was Sunghoon who scoffed. “Yeah, right. You’ve always liked him. Even when we were together, you had feelings for him. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

You swallowed thickly. While his words were not untrue, Sunghoon didn’t realize he was the only guy who had ever moved your heart to the point where you started to forget about Riki. Not that it mattered anymore.

“What do you care who I do or don’t like? Just mind your own business.”

“I may not be friends with Heeseung anymore, but he doesn’t deserve only half of your heart.” Sunghoon’s voice trembled, and he knew that once everything was said and done he was going to regret his harsh words. But right now he could only vent his sadness and anger on you even though you didn’t deserve it. “It’s not right for you to make him your back burner just because Riki doesn’t like you.”

The second he spoke those harsh words, he regretted it. Your face crumbled, steely gaze twisting into one of hurt and shock. The sight alone made Sunghoon feel like someone struck him in the chest. “Y/N, I—”

“You don’t know anything.” You told him through gritted teeth, barely holding back angry tears. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Heeseung and I aren’t like that.”

Sunghoon grew indignant again. “Oh yeah? Then why did he give you that necklace you’re wearing?”

You were at a breaking point, but you weren’t willing to let him of all people see you at your worst. So you didn’t answer, but your silence didn’t deter him.

“That’s what I thought.” Sunghoon frowned, not liking the turn the conversation took. “You have to be honest with him so he doesn’t get hurt—”

“Why do you care so much about us, anyway?” You snapped, sick of him acting like he knew what was going on. “Stop acting like you’re doing this because of Heeseung when all you care about is hurting me.”

Us? The word had Sunghoon clenching his jaw. Had he been right all along? Did you and Heeseung have something more than just a simple friendship? “I don’t want to hurt you. Believe it or not, that’s something I never wanted to do.”

You let out a breath that sounded like a mixture of a scoff and a laugh, knowing you had to get ahold of yourself before going inside. But the hurtful emotions wouldn’t stop growing. They only got worse with each passing moment. “That’s funny because that’s all you do, Sunghoon.”

“Y/N.”

You looked back to see Riki glaring at Sunghoon. At that moment you felt your heart drop into your stomach. How long had he been listening? Riki’s angry stare didn’t falter even as he walked over to where you were. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you away from your ex.

“Come on.” Riki finally took his glaring eyes off of Sunghoon, only to look at you softly. “The others are waiting.”

Normally, you would avoid being dragged anywhere by your crush, but Riki’s appearance came like a blessing to you. The last thing you wanted was to spend another minute with the boy who only insisted on adding to your misery. So you followed him, hoping with all your might that he didn’t know about your feelings for him.

Sunghoon watched with a raised eyebrow as Riki guided you away from him. Interesting. He had doubted that the thing with his cousin and Riki was real, and by the looks of it, he was right. The gag of it all was that your little unrequited crush didn’t seem to be so unrequited after all.

“Did you hear everything?” You wondered quietly as Riki guided you to the room everyone was in.

He looked over at you, frowning when he saw how embarrassed you looked. In all honesty, he’d only heard the last part where you said all Sunghoon did was hurt you. But since it seemed like you were completely mortified, he decided to lie a little. “No. I just know you didn’t want to be out there with him so I came and got you.”

You visibly relaxed. “Thanks, Riki.”

It was easier than expected to pretend like you hadn’t just been through the emotional ringer. The rest of the night proceeded without any further incident, and you thought it would end smoothly with you putting it behind you. As always, you weren’t so fortunate.

You went outside to see Heeseung staring at the street, or rather, the two people by it. Riki and Yura were standing closely, talking and laughing like they had been doing all night. His gaze became colder the longer he looked at them. If jealousy could be personified, you imagined that it would look something like Heeseung did at the moment.

“Don’t be a masochist.” You tried to keep your tone light, but it sounded resigned and miserable. “Giving them the evil eye won’t change anything.”

Heeseung let out a sigh as he followed you into the street, doing his best to keep his eyes off of his crush and the guy he hated more than anyone.

“Are you guys leaving?”

Yura’s friendly question was tempting to ignore, but you couldn’t. After all, she couldn’t be blamed for Riki’s lack of attraction toward you.

“Yeah.” You gave her what you hoped looked like a genuine smile. “See you guys later.”

With that, you and Heeseung left the pair behind, not realizing that you dropped the necklace your friend had given you.

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Just because you were avoiding Riki, it didn’t mean you were extending that same treatment to his family. Over the years, you had grown close to his little sister. You were really fond of her, and since her birthday was coming up, you decided to go to the mall to pick out her present. It was supposed to be a quick thing, but that all changed when you ran into Heeseung.

The unexpected run in wasn’t unpleasant since he was your friend after all, but there was something off about his demeanor. His expression wasn’t as cheerful, and you could see that there was this muted anger in his expression that wouldn’t go away. You decided not to comment on it since he clearly didn’t want to walk about what was bothering him.

Everything took a turn for the worse when Heeseung asked you to follow him. There was a moment where you thought following your perturbed friend would only lead to trouble, but it was fleeting. He was probably ready to leave and so were you since she hadn’t found the shoes Riki’s sister mentioned that she wanted. Even as you two ended up where the elevators were, you didn’t think anything was out of the ordinary.

Until he guided you toward the shutting elevator, that is.

Heeseung surprised you by sticking his hand out to prevent it from closing. You could only stare with wide eyes, unable to understand why he felt the need to act so irrationally when there were plenty of other elevators you could take. Your shocked confusion didn’t last long. The doors opened fully to reveal none other than Riki and Song Yura.

They seemed as surprised as you felt.

The entire situation would’ve been comedic had it not been for the animosity that was quickly closing in. You spent half a second contemplating on running in the opposite direction until something caught your attention. Your gaze settled on the cute little shopping bag in Riki’s grasp. It was a bag from his sister’s favorite clothing store. Your heart jerked painfully when you realized what was going on.

Ever since you got close to Riki, he had enlisted your help to buy his sisters (his younger one in particular) the perfect gifts. It was practically a tradition at this point. Seeing that he had asked for Yura’s help instead of yours felt like the equivalent of someone punching you in the chest.

You didn’t get any time to focus on your hurt feelings because from the looks that were exchanged between the two boys, you knew that you had just been dropped in the middle of a crossfire.

Heeseung grabbed you and pulled you inside the elevator without any hesitation. You gave him an incredulous glare. It was obvious that he had some poorly-crafted plan to wedge himself between Riki and Yura, but you didn’t understand why he felt the need to involve you. At this point, all you wanted to do was run back home and have a good cry.

“Hey!” Riki’s death stare was piercing he looked at Heeseung. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“What about you?” Heeseung countered. “What are you doing?”

During this brief exchange, you made eye contact with Yura. Her eyes drifted down to where Heeseung was still holding onto your wrist. The disillusion on her face probably resembled the look on your own face. Although, you were too busy trying to process the crazy turn of events to make sense of Yura’s disappointed expression.

“Hee.” You whispered the plea while attempting to free yourself from his hold. “Let’s get off.”

Using all your strength, you managed to get to the edge of the elevator (right between the doors), but Heeseung’s iron-like grip prevented you from leaving. Riki pressed one of the buttons to keep the door from closing without taking his glaring eyes off of Heeseung. By now, your heartbeat seemed to be ringing in your ears as the two boys kept exchanging words you couldn’t make out. You were vaguely aware that they kept pushing the buttons sporadically, but only came back to reality when the door jammed and nearly crushed you.

With a startled yelp, you were pulled back into the elevator by Heeseung—who was now questioning Yura on what she was doing shopping with Riki. The words spoken still sounded muffled and indistinguishable.

You could feel your heartbeat skip a beat when the elevator came to a sluggish stop. Immediately, you became aware of the fact that you were now trapped. No. No no no no no, no. Not here. Not now. Trying to stop yourself from panicking was futile. Your hands began to clam up and you could feel your chest tighten with anxiety. The tremors always started out faint, but it never took long for them to worsen. The shortness of breath always followed, and you only hoped the others wouldn’t notice.

Shutting your eyes never helped, but you did it every time. The back of your eyelids were painted with horrible thoughts of being trapped in a confined space. You had been working through your phobia slowly, and you naively thought that you had finally made some real progress. None of that seemed to be true now that you could feel yourself trembling like a leaf.

“Y/N! Kim Y/N!”

Your eyes flew open. At some point, you had lost the feeling in your legs and fallen to the floor. Riki was crouched down in front of you, eyes full of panic and worry. His hands gently cradled your face as he delicately wiped the tears you didn’t realize were falling from your eyes. “Y/N, look at me. It’s okay. Breathe. Just breathe.”

Sunoo had told Riki all about his twin’s claustrophobia. He was vague when he said it was because of something traumatic that had happened to you as a child, but he mentioned that you would get horrible panic attacks because of it. That’s why you didn’t like taking taxis or even buses. Riki couldn’t stand seeing the horrified look on your face. The sheer terror in your eyes killed him.

“Wh-What’s wrong with her?” Yura asked, feeling her own heart start to race.

“She’s having a panic attack.” Heeseung said, the raw emotion in his voice peeking through. He didn’t try to hide the horror on his face. This was all his fault.

“R-Riki.” You wheezed out. “I-I can’t– I can’t bre—”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence, the tightness in your chest hindering you from going on. Everything seemed to be closing in, and you didn’t know what to do. All you wanted was your brother.

“You can do it.” Riki reassured you. “It’s going to be okay. Count with me.”

And you did. Slowly and feebly, but you did it. Your breathing was nearly back to normal when the doors of the elevator were pulled open. The four of you looked up at the point of escape, wanting nothing more than to get out. With all your rational thoughts pushed to the side, you recoiled from Riki’s touch.

“Y/N—!”

You ignored Riki’s heartbroken voice and quickly scrambled out of the elevator, feeling more mortified than ever.

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Riki stood outside of your house, awkwardly shifting on his feet. In all the years he had been friends with you and Sunoo, he never hesitated to knock on your door (even when he came by unannounced). But this was time different. After the way you ran off at the mall, he wasn’t so sure that you wanted to see him.

Even so, he needed to know that you were okay.

Just as he walked up your driveway, the front door opened. Riki’s eyes narrowed instinctively when he saw a familiar face come through the door. “What are you doing here?”

Heeseung blinked once, clearly irritated. “I came to make sure Y/N is okay.”

Riki clenched his jaw. He had no right to be as angry as he was since seeing the boy you liked would no doubt make you feel better, but he couldn’t stand Lee Heeseung assuming a role that wasn’t meant for him.

“That’s funny considering you’re the reason she wasn’t fine.” Riki spat, not caring that he sounded harsh.

Heeseung was very conscious that he was (partially) at fault, but he didn’t need to hear that from Nishimura Riki of all people. “You’re one to talk. Aren’t you too busy with Song Yura to care about what’s going on with Y/N?”

It’s weird that he brought up Yura, and it was even more strange that he was bringing up the fact that you two haven’t been as close lately. Now he knows for sure Heeseung was the reason you seemed to want nothing to do with him anymore. But he still couldn’t figure out how Yura played a part in all this. Had her crazy plan actually worked?

“What happens between Yura and I has nothing to do with Y/N.” Riki’s steely gaze slowly morphed into an amused one. “And it has nothing to do with you either.”

Based on the way Heeseung’s face scrunched up in anger, Riki could tell there was definitely something there. It made his stomach turn with disgust because how could he be stringing you along while also feeling something for Yura?

“You can keep following Yura like a lost puppy, but don’t bring Y/N into it. I won’t let you mess with her feelings."

Heeseung raised his eyebrow with a loud scoff. “I’m not the one who’s messing with her feelings.”

His brazen attitude made Riki explode just a tiny bit. “Don’t act fucking stupid. I can tell you like Yura, so why the hell do you keep hanging around Y/N and acting like you like her?”

“The only one who’s acting that way is you.”

Heeseung words were biting, and for the first time in a long time, Riki was at a loss for words. The statement itself was so absurd that he nearly choked on his own spit after hearing that moron say those words. Riki wanted to tell him that the only thing he was acting like was a good friend. For some reason the words couldn’t come out.

“I know where I stand with my feelings.” Heeseung said in a way that sounded like he was accusing his former friend of something. “Do you?”

Riki didn’t say anything even when Heeseung walked away from him. Those asinine words were bouncing back and forth in his mind until he really digested them and the implications they came with. His heart was pounding as he stared at the Kim household. Could that idiot be right? Was it possible that these protective feelings stemmed from something more intense that he wasn’t ready to acknowledge?

No. It was impossible. There was no way he would ever betray his best friend by liking his sister.

Although, the longer he thought about it, the bigger the discomfort in his chest grew.

#hooniblr.doc #niki x reader #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #niki fanfic #enhypen x you #enha angst #niki x you #enhypen angst #niki imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enha au #enha imagines #enhypen fic #niki angst #enha scenarios #enhypen au

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silent-stories · 1 year

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 - 𝟐

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: Eddie finally works up the courage to talk to you again and he's not disappointed.

Part 1

"I'm sorry, I won't." You repeated for about the hundredth time as you placed some brushes in a jar and then on a shelf.

The lesson had been over for a few minutes and your classmates were getting ready to finally leave.

Aaron rolled his eyes as he washed his hands at the sink located in the corner of the art classroom, watching the water wash the red paint off his hands, coloring the liquid as it descended.

It almost looked like blood.

"Your parents won't be home for two days. Two fucking days, Y/N. And you don't want to have a party?" He turned to you with his usual smile he used when trying to get someone to do what he wanted.

It was not going to work with you.

"Well, I'm sorry. I'm not really one for parties." You shrugged.

Aaron had spent all of class trying to get you to throw a party on Saturday night since your parents were away for the weekend, your house was big, and you had a pool.

Aaron insisted. "But it will be fun. We can invite your friends, Jason and his team and-"

"Aaron, c'mon. Even if I had this stupid party, I wouldn't invite those people."

They were the last people you wanted to see at school, let alone invite them to a party.

"What's wrong with Jason? He's been one of the first people I've talked to since I moved here, besides you, and he's a really cool guy."

You liked Aaron, you had met him a week ago when he asked if you knew where the art class was and you had accompanied him, saying you were going there too, but sometimes he would say things that would skyrocket your want to slap him.

Over the next few days you'd gotten closer and closer and you'd noticed how most of the girls – and even some of the boys – watched Aaron at school.

He was new and that equaled interesting, he was blond and green-eyed, which for many cheerleaders equaled cute.

You also suspected that many of them were jealous that he was spending so much time with you instead of them.

Anyway, you didn't like him that way, of course you had to admit that he respected the canons of beauty to which people paid attention, but there were things more important than how symmetrical someone's face was.

"Cool? Do you want me to make you a list of all the reasons why I don't like that asshoke? He's selfish, obnoxious, vain, a bully....should I go on?" You crossed your arms over your chest.

"Nah, I'd like to listen to all your reasons but I have to go, honey. I'm going out with Jason and his friends later." He said running his fingers through his blond curls.

You raised your eyebrows, still hoping you misunderstood what he said.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I told you, they're cool guys."

"Like a stick up your ass."

Aaron burst out laughing. "Y/N, c'mon!"

"What? It's true!"

Aaron shook his head before grabbing his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, okay?"

He smiled at you as he usually did, showing his perfect white teeth and rested a hand on your arm for a few seconds.

His smile was sometimes frighteningly reminiscent of Billy Hargrove's.

One thing you couldn't stand was the way he was always touching you. One arm around your shoulders, one hand on yours or your arm.

It always seemed like something too intimate, like the way he called you "honey" all the time, but you thought maybe it was your problem.

"Yeah, bye." You placed the last rags covered in color stains in their appropriate drawer.

"And think about the party!" He yelled before walking out the door, leaving you alone in the classroom.

"I won't!"

Eddie lingered in front of art class, watching some students leave after the last bell of the day rang and wondering why he suddenly had no idea how to start a conversation.

The last one to leave the class was the boy he had seen you with the day before, the one Dustin said was Aaron and that he wasn't your boyfriend.

As he walked out of the classroom, his gaze briefly met Eddie's, who was leaning back against the wall thinking about what he could do or what he could talk about with you.

And that look, it was definitely not the look of the nice guy next door who brings you cake as soon as he moves next to your house and offers to mow your lawn.

It was Jason's same look, it was the look of everyone who looked at Eddie as if he were trash.

It was the look of everyone who was sure Eddie was the leader of a satanic cult that no one would want anything to do with.

It was the same look as everyone who referred to him as a "freak."

Just the thought of you spending your time with that guy made Eddie think he had no chance with you and that he'd better go home and try to get over you. As if it was possible.

Suddenly, Eddie found himself alone in the hallway and for a moment he thought that you too had left the classroom and that he, too immersed in his thoughts, hadn't even noticed.

But no, it wasn't possible, he always noticed you.

He reached the threshold of the door and finally saw you, intent on moving a canvas in the corner of the room, on your hands there were still some traces of color that not even the water had managed to sweep away.

"Need a hand?" Eddie asked, surprising even himself.

You whirled on him, probably startled by the sudden voice but when you saw him, you smiled and Eddie almost forgot how to breathe.

"No, it's okay. I'm done. What are you doing here?" You asked as you grabbed a book off a table and stuffed it into your bag, before slinging it over your shoulder and walking towards him.

What was he doing there?

He wanted to see you, he wanted to hear the sound of your laugh and talk to you about any topic that crossed your mind because he was undoubtedly in love with you but too cowardly to tell you.

"Henderson told me you were here and I thought I'd come by and say hi."

He hoped it didn't sound stupid.

"Well, hi." You laughed as you walked out of the classroom, closing the door behind you.

Eddie watched you take a few steps ahead of you in the hallway before you turned to him.

"Are you coming or not?"

"Yeah, sure." He hastened to catch up with you.

"Today I'm walking home. This morning I woke up earlier than usual and it was sunny so I didn't use my car. Would you like to... walk me home?"

Eddie glanced at you to meet your sincere, hopeful expression.

"I don't live very far from here, don't worry." You added.

"Yeah, yes. Of course." He answered quickly, already kicking himself for letting you think that he didn’t want to go with you. He would have wanted even if you lived on the other side of the world.

You felt good spending time with Eddie.

You didn't quite know what it was but you felt the same sensation you felt when you sat in front of a fireplace in winter with a blanket on your legs and a book in your hands.

It was a feeling of calm and tranquility. You felt like you were really being listened to when you talked about the things you liked, that you weren't judged and you simply felt safe when you were with him.

It wasn't the same feeling you had when you were with Aaron. It was not even close.

Before you rounded the corner in the hallway, Eddie heard voices talking to each other.

"Wait, um-" Eddie didn't know how to say it. "There's someone. It's okay if you don't want to be seen with me."

It was like a reflex, a habit. No one wanted to be seen with him other than the Hellfire kids and his friends in his band.

His words hit you like a knife and your heart started bleeding for that sweet boy you barely knew.

All those years he'd spent being treated like he didn't deserve to, like no one would ever deserve, like a freak, had made him think that no one would want to be seen even to talk to him.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair for all of Hawkings to judge a person they didn't even know for who he really were.

"It's okay, Eddie." You you reassured him as you rounded the corner, finding two cheerleaders talking to each other.

And Eddie, hearing your simple words, for a moment really thought that everything was okay. That there was no social barrier to divide you, that you were really friends and that he had the possibility to become something more for you one day.

He also liked the way his name sounded when you said it.

As you walked down the hallway, Eddie suddenly felt your fingers brush his and when he realized it wasn't by mistake, your hand had already met his and you intertwined your fingers with his.

Strangely, Eddie didn't catch his breath or start sweating like he did whenever you were even near him.

He wasn't even nervous anymore. But he smiled.

He felt as if someone had lifted a weight off his chest and now he could breathe easier, as if with your hand in his everything could really be fine.

When you passed the cheerleaders your hand was still holding his, stready, secure, not letting go.

When you got out of school you kept talking all the way home and every time Eddie heard the sound of your laugh he wished he could record it so he could listen to it whenever he wanted as if it was his favorite song.

You only let go of his hand when you arrived in front of your house.

"And then I told my uncle that I'd found a job, but I actually sat on the sidewalk every day downtown and played my guitar with a hat on the ground hoping someone would leave me a dollar." Eddie finished, noting that he was talking to you about personal facts that few other people knew about.

"If I had known, I would have come and left you a few bucks, you know." You commented.

"I was twelve, Y/N. So you were ten. I don't think you had much money to waste at that time." He laughed.

"When I was a kid I had ice cream almost every day. I could have given you my ice cream money."

Eddie smiled. "Would you have given up your daily ice cream for me?"

"For you, that and more" You chuckled as you opened the gate to your house. "Thanks for walking me home." You added.

"Anytime, I like hanging out with you." Eddie still didn't understand where he had found all that courage.

One corner of your mouth curled up. "I like it too."

"See you at school, then?" He asked.

"See you at school, Eddie." You repead before disappearing behind the door of your house.

He stood there for a few more moments, even getting a glare from your neighbor watering the flowers in her garden.

When he said 1986 was going to be his year, maybe he'd been right.

Part 3

I thought I'd write a part 2 and stop but... I kinda like this. Maybe a little series will come out of this?

Who asked to be tagged in the second part will also be tagged in all the other parts so if you want to be removed, let me know <3

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat

Love you from afar tags: @capitanostella @enam3l @saramelaniemoon @ang3lb44by @einkitty @themorriganisamonster @esme-viridian @daisyridleyyyy @whenshelanded @eggo-segual @comfortcharactercraze @callmeyn @expiredcum21 @unholyyylita @squidscottjeans @twilight-love-nochu-main @idkatee

#eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

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smileysuh · 6 months

Text

send in the clowns - TEASER

🌙 staring. Hyuck & Mark & Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “She’s not the reason we’re dressed as clowns,” Hyuck is quick to insist. He’s such a good liar. Jungwoo would almost believe it, if you hadn’t told him your Halloween clown plan. It’s no secret to you that your three frat friends all have crushes on you, so you’d decided to tell Jaehyun about wanting to fuck a clown, just to see who would actually follow through with the costume. You’d expected one, maybe two- but here are all three men, dressed as exactly what they are: clowns. And it’s obvious to Jungwoo that they think this is their own idea. As if you’re not the puppeteer behind this all. God, Jungwoo loves having you as a best friend, even if your bucket list includes a frat clown Halloween orgy with three of his best friends.

tw/cw. clown kink? orgy, foursome, unprotected sex, semi-inexperienced reader, oral, blow jobs, pussy eating, cum eating, squirting, fingering, masturbation, guided masturbation, spanking, choking, spit-roasting/Eiffel tower, cum/filling kink, praise, dirty talk, first time anal, cock warming, double penetration, triple penetration, multiple reader orgasms, dacryphilia, overstimulation, deep throating, face grinding, etc… I pet names: (hers) barbie, babe, baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 10.6k

🍭 aus. Halloween, frat au, friends to lovers, Joker!Jae, Buggy!Mark, Pennywise!Hyuck, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I'm not sure I can even explain this one tbh

“How long…” Mark leans close again, and his lips brush over your ear, “How long have you known we’re all into you.”

“You’re not great at hiding it, Mark,” you laugh.

“And you really don’t have a favorite?” he asks, pulling away to look you deep in your eyes.

“Do I seem like I have a favorite?” you counter.

“It’s obviously me,” Hyuck says loudly, pulling you back even tighter. “I’m everyone’s favourite.”

Mark ignores Hyuck, his gaze dipping down to your lips then back up. Even in a sea of bodies, with Hyuck rubbing against your ass, something about being pressed to Mark’s chest while he stares at you like this feels intimate. He’s so pretty, especially with the clown makeup and the blue hair- it gives him this dangerous edge, but below the layers of red, white and blue, this is still Mark, one of the softest men you’ve ever met.

You can’t help yourself, you lean forward, reaching for Mark’s shoulders-

He practically smashes his mouth against yours, and you realize how eager he is by the way his tongue immediately swipes a lick at your lower lip. His fingers dig into your hips, tugging you closer and away from Hyuck-

A second mouth finds your skin, with Hyuck groaning against your throat. The sensation makes a shiver run through you, and you part your lips for Mark, who dips his tongue inside.

You truly can’t believe your luck tonight. As you cling tighter to Mark, enjoying Hyuck’s rough hands on your body, you almost forget about Jaehyun- but as soon as he pops in your mind, you pull away from the roommates, turning to look for your Joker.

He’s no longer standing by the dance floor, he’s walking away, and your heart lurches in your chest.

“Jae-” you say, tugging away from Mark and Hyuck to chase after your favorite classmate. If you’re being really honest with yourself- you’d told Jae about wanting to fuck a clown because out of all three, he’s the one you could see yourself really going the distance with.

Jaehyun has two years on Mark, and three on Hyuck- he’s the most mature of the three karaoke fratboys you’ve been thirsting over. There’s something about him that’s always made you feel calm- in contrast to the chaos Hyuck brings, and the warm fuzzies Mark gives you.

You like them all in different ways, you suppose, and you can’t stand the idea of losing even one of them from your hook tonight.

“Jae!” you call again, louder this time as you follow him- catching up just as he makes it to the stairwell door. He turns to look at you, and you blink. “Where are you going?”

“Needed a stronger drink,” he muses, scanning your face. “You’ve got a little something, here-” he reaches, cupping your chin and brushing his thumb over your lips, “And here,” his fingers smooth across your neck.

“Oh-” you go to wipe at your skin, only to find white and red makeup on your hand.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 3.5k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

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topguncortez · 20 days

Text

Slap Shot || Chapter 1

A Jake Seresin Hockey AU

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: You arrive at your new job in North Island, and are hit with memories that you'd much rather leave behind. Jake faces the repercussions of his fight on the ice with his teammate

word count: 2.9k

warnings: grief, mentions of sexism, injuries, losing a parent, locker room talk, hockey inaccuracies, mentions of cheating, workplace harassment, mentions of sex

When you were about five years old, your kindergarten teacher asked you what you wanted to be when you grew up. Most of your classmates gave answers such as “teacher” or “doctor” or “superman”. You, on the other hand, stood in front of the packed gym on the night of your kindergarten graduation, your head held high as you gave your answer.

“A Stanley Cup Winner.”

Of course at the time, you didn’t understand that women could not win the Stanley Cup (you figured that out at age 8 and it caused the meltdown of all epic meltdowns). The closest thing women could get to the Stanley Cup was a gold medal at the Olympics. You worked your ass off from the time you could successfully skate without falling, to your senior year of highschool. Every waking moment you had was spent at the rink, running drills from sunup to sun down. You lived and breathed hockey, and as the daughter of the late great Michael L/N, you had big shoes to fill.

You just never imagined the moment it would all come crashing down.

It was a dumb idea, in hindsight. It was a really dumb idea. Weeks from the US Olympic team tryouts, you agreed to joining your friends at the lake. A place you liked to avoid like the plague. It wasn’t that your parents and coach kept you away from having any fun in your life, you simply chose to ignore the dangerous stunts your friends like to partake in. But for some reason, you decided to take a chance and take a break from the grueling training schedule your coach had created. It was a hot summer day in the middle of July, and a day out on the boat sounded like heaven.

You should’ve said no to trying to wakeboard. You should’ve just stayed on the boat, watching the epic wipeouts by your friends. It would’ve been the smart choice to make. . . but you never were that smart. One bad landing into the wake created by the boat, had you breaking the surface with a horrible scream. Your friends reacted quickly, jumping into the water to help you stay afloat as you screamed in pain, your collar bone protruding awkwardly under your skin. They got you to the hospital quickly where you were told you had broken your collarbone and torn your ACL in your knee. The physical pain wasn’t even as bad as the emotional pain that came a few weeks later.

“I’m sorry, but you will never play hockey at the level you are playing it now. I suggest. . . quitting altogether if you want to avoid having a shoulder replacement before you’re 30.”

A bullet to the chest would’ve hurt less.

At first, you laughed at the doctor’s suggestion, all but telling him to fuck off and asking to see his credentials. Your parents had tried to talk some sense into you, telling you that maybe heeding the doctor’s advice could be beneficial. Your dad knew guys from the league who had shoulder or knee injuries, and it never ended up in their favor. Years of pain and suffering, turning to questionable methods of dealing with the pain, missing out on crucial time with their families or significant others. But you were stubborn, and didn’t want to quit playing when you were about to try-out for the biggest moment of your life.

But you never made it that far. In fact, you never finished your senior season. From the first puck drop, everything was shit. You weren’t as strong as you had been, having lost muscle in both your arms and legs. You felt off balance, and were cautious of every move you made on the ice. You knew the statistics, you were at a higher risk of tearing another ligament in your knee after tearing the first one. Your collar bone, even though it had healed without having to have surgery, clicked and popped anytime you tried to make a slapshot. You were making mistakes you hadn’t made since peewee hockey. Your teammates were growing increasingly annoyed, your coaches were becoming exasperated, and your dreams of making it on the US Olympic team had slowly drifted away. It was a hard choice, but in the middle of your senior year, you decided to hang up your skates for the last time.

Even though you weren’t actively playing, your love for the sport didn’t die along with your Olympic dream. In fact, you found a new way to get involved with the sport, deciding that you were going to major in public relations and team management. Your goal had shifted, and now you wanted to be the first female Hockey manager.

But like most goals, that was easier said than done.

It was 2024, and even with the establishment of the Profession Women’s Hockey League and the US Women’s Hockey team winning numerous gold medals on the world stage, women in the league still weren’t taken seriously. You were told all through college, as you sat in your team management class to choose a different sport like swimming or volleyball or gymnastics. More “women friendly sports”. You weren’t going to throw in the towel and give up on your dream, no matter how many teams had denied you.

When you were hired by the North Island Daggers, you weren’t sure what to expect. They were known as the joke team of the NHL. Always finishing last every season, being most teams shoe-in win when they played against one another. Having gone from working as a PR rep for the Dallas Stars, you felt as though this was a demotion, a punishment for a freelance article you had written about how women were being treated in the NHL. You knew the article was going to be risky when you sat down and wrote it. You just didn’t expect to get a call an hour after the article was published telling you that you were being sent to work with the Daggers.

“We’re happy to have you here,” Beau Simpson, spoke as your heels clicked down the long hallway behind him, “As you can see, we need a little PR help.”

“Yeah, I saw that fight between Holloway and Seresin the other night.” The whole NHL fan base saw the fight, but you weren’t about to tell Simpson something he was probably painfully aware of, “Interesting decision to bench him before going against Endmonton though. He’s your strongest player.”

“Can’t let him get away with bad behavior,” Simpson shrugged, stopping outside a large conference room with glass walls and a large oval table in the middle, “Hey, I’m sorry about your dad. I got the honor of playing against him my rookie year. Hell of a player. Terrible thing, cancer is.”

“Yeah, thanks,” It had been months since your dad died from cancer, shocking the world of hockey. You thought by now you would have been used to hearing condolences from strangers, but they still made your ears burn and your face flush.

Simpson nodded courtly, opening the door to the conference room where two sharply dressed men and a woman sat.

“Gentlemen, this is Y/N L/N, the new PR rep for the North Island Daggers,” Simpson introduced you as the two men stood up, and you immediately knew who they were.

“Pete Mitchell and Tom Kazansky, co-owners of the North Island Daggers,” You answered, shaking both of their hands, “An honor to meet you, both.”

“The honor is all ours, Miss Hamilton,” Pete smiled at you as he sat down.

You wanted to correct him, but decided not to. Sometimes, it was easier to let people call you by your father’s last name, than try and explain why you dropped it and took up your mother’s maiden name. The world of sports was a game of who you know and who you belong to. If your last name was that of a hall of famer, you were almost guaranteed anything and everything you wanted, and you hated that. When you were vying for the spot on Team USA, you wanted it because you were skilled, not because of who your dad was. The same stood now, as you were trying to work your way up in the hockey world. You wanted this job because you were good at it, not because your dad was hockey royalty.

“I’m Mrs. Wright, the executive public relations and human resource officer,” The woman, who’s blonde hair was slicked back in an impressive bun, held her hand out to you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Wright,” You smiled at her, trying hard to not gawk at the huge diamond ring that sat on her finger.

“We’re glad you could join us on such short notice,” Tom spoke, “We know that you just got let go from the Stars for a shit reason if you ask me.”

“Thanks,” You muttered, clasping your hands on the conference table in front of you, “I am happy to be picked up by the Daggers though. My dad really enjoyed his time here as a rookie.”

“Damn, we missed him when he left,” Pete shook his head, as if he were remembering the “good ol’ days” as your father referred to him during his rookie season.

“The reason we hired you, Miss Hamilton,” Mrs. Wright spoke up, breaking up the reminiscing, “Is because we are in the middle of a PR storm. We have a player who has caused quite the controversy lately and is in danger of losing his sponsors. From our research, we know that you do fantastic work with building player profiles, turning rookies into known players, making the bad guys look like the good boys. We need you to do that.”

“Okay,” You nodded, “So am I taking over the social media accounts like I did in Dallas, or-”

Mrs. Wright looked apprehensively at Pete and Tom, who sat up a bit in their seats.

“Not necessarily,” Pete cleared his throat, “You will be paired one on one with one of our problematic players.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, before realization struck you, “Wait. . .” You held your finger up, “You hired me to be a glorified babysitter?”

— — —

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

Jake grunted as he set the barbell back on the rack above him. His gray workout t-shirt was drenched in sweat as he sat up, looking both his agent and trainer in the eye, “I’m fine on my own.”

“You got in a fight,” His agent, Steven, deadpanned.

“Everyone gets in fights, its hockey,” Jake shrugged as Javy handed him his water bottle.

“With your own teammate.”

Jake glanced over to the other side of the workout room, where Wren Holloway was working out with Bradley Bradshaw, still supporting a black eye from the fight that broke out a couple of days ago on the ice. The fight, which was being dubbed “The Dagger Civil War,” was definitely not a highlight Jake liked to have hanging over him. But in the game of hockey, sometimes the tension runs high, and in that particular game, Jake had gone out looking for a fight from the moment the puck first dropped. It was just unfortunate that his opponent was his teammate.

“Look,” Steven shifted on his feet, crossing his arms across his chest, “The fight is the least of our issues right now. We have sponsorships ready to pull out on you because you’ve been labeled the “hot head” and the “problematic child”. And what is this that I hear about an affair with the coach’s wife?”

Jake groaned, standing up from the workout bench, and taking the sweat towel from Javy’s hand. Both of them followed Jake through the weight room. The Daggers might’ve been the worst team in the NHL, having a history of one play-off appearance in the 70 years since they’ve been a team, they sure did have one of the nicest facilities Jake had ever been in. State of the art work-out and physical therapy rooms. Rehabilitation pools, and an indoor track. In-house chefs that served breakfast, lunch and dinner, plus tons of snack shops throughout the building. And the best part, two full sized practice rinks.

Jake walked over to the smoothie shack, where a bright-eyed hopeful girl sat down his regular smoothie order, his name with a heart around it.

“Here you go, Jake,” She batted her eyes as Jake took the smoothie, making a clear display of taking off the sticky note with her number on it and setting it back on the counter.

“Not interested, but thanks,” He nodded, turning back to Javy and Steven, who glared at him, “What?”

“You sleep with her too?” Steven asked and Javy snickered. Jake was going to shake his head no, but had to double check who it was behind the counter, before shaking his head. Steven rolled his eyes as Jake walked towards one of the rehab rooms.

The moment Jake laid down on the exam table, Javy got right to work. Javy and Jake were like a well oiled machine, they knew one another since they were kids, growing up next door to one another. They played on the same youth hockey team, until it became too expensive for Javy’s family to afford. It broke the young boy’s heart to have to give up the sport he loved, and Jake had begged his parents to help Javy be able to play. Even though the Seresins insisted on paying for Javy’s fees and equipment, the boy didn’t have the same passion for the sport as Jake did, and he thought it would be a waste. Instead, Javy found another way to be on the bench next to Jake, working as the team equipment manager, to athletic training assistant, to athletic trainer for the Daggers.

“Shoulder still bothering you?” Javy asked, grabbing Jake’s arm and moving it in a variety of ways.

“Yeah,” Jake grimaced, “Still has that whole clicking thing going on. Guess that hit from Svec was harder than I thought.”

Javy snickered, remembering the hit Jake suffered a few weeks ago, “He laid you out flat, man.”

“Shut up,” Jake grumbled.

“Mhm,” Steven cleared his throat, directing Jake’s attention back to him, “We weren’t done talking yet.” Jake rolled his eyes, which only seemed to infuriate his manager, “This is serious, Jake,” Steven sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Simpson wants you out, wants you so far gone from the Daggers, hell, probably even the National Hockey League.”

Jake scoffed, “I’m the best on the team."

“You haven’t been for weeks.”

Jake huffed again, knowing that Steven was right. He has been off his game for the past couple of weeks. Missing key plays and open teammates. Almost all his shots were deflected or totally missing the net. Not to mention, he felt like his skating had modeled that of a newborn calf, shaky and off balance. The hit from Svec several weeks ago, was just the tip of the iceberg of the list of injuries Jake seemed to have racked up in the past couple of weeks.

“Look, your spot is in danger.”

That got Jake’s attention, making him sit up from his laid back position, “What are you talking about?”

“There’s a kid down on the juniors that is amazing. He’s either been breaking or matching all your records. They are calling him the next you.”

Jake’s eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t really pay attention to any other league but the one he was currently in. Of course, he kept his eye out for any information about the national team. It had been his dream since he got to the NHL to play for Team USA and make it to the olympics. Playing on the junior team had been one of his greatest memories, and when he felt for the first time, he could actually make it in this sport.

How could he have ignored that there was someone breaking all his records?

“Who is this kid?” Jake asked.

“Drake Silvia. He’s signed to UMich, but also a projected first round draft pick,” Steven clenched his jaw, “They want him. And they will have him. . . at your expense.”

Jake felt like his heart dropped to his ass. He had never felt the feeling of fear for his spot on a team before. He’s always been the best. Always been the hot commodity that every team wants, that every coach would roll out the red carpet to get him to visit their team. Before he decided to go straight to the drafts, he had nearly every single college in the country and some in Canada, begging for an ounce of his attention.

“However,” Steven looked around the empty rehab room before leaning in close, “Henderson signed his retirement forms this morning.”

“What?!” Jake spat out, “He’s retiring?”

“No announcement will be made until the season is over,” Steven nodded, “But Henderson is done after this year. . . and the captain spot will be open. It could be yours.”

Besides making Team USA, being named captain has also been on the list of dreams for Jake. All the hockey greats have been captains. Gretzky, Crosby, Hamilton. Jake’s childhood bedroom had their jerseys hanging up in frames. To Jake, no one remembered you unless you were the captain, or won a Stanley Cup. And Jake wanted both. He wanted both as badly as he needed oxygen to live.

Jake sighed, knowing what the answer to his question was going to be, “So what do I have to do?”

A smirk arose on Steven’s cheeks, “If you want to stay on this team, and make captain, you need to abide by the rules. And that means having a babysit-” He shook his head correcting himself, “A personal PR rep.”

“Fine, I’ll take the babysitter.”

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yuellii · 8 months

Text

summer's in the air, heaven's in your eyes

𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐀 memory from innocent times; or, in which they fell in love with you prior to becoming a fatuus

feat. childe, la signora, scaramouche, dottore

note. reader’s gender unspecified, ajax & reader are kids in his part only ( he was 14 when he fell into the abyss )

CHILDE. ajax

Whether it was summer or winter, spring or fall, you could never tell from your surroundings alone.

Hailing from Natlan meant you were so used to the heat all the time, and your classmate Ajax always called you “the sun” for standing out so much in the snow. You were the only one who shivered, the only one who wore such thick coats; and yet, he’d still argue that you were warm like the sun itself.

On your twelfth birthday, he gave you a scarf. “It’s red and warm, just like the sun, just like you!”—that was what he said with the toothiest of grins, and perhaps you teased him about the color of his hair in return.

But he was right; it certainly was warm, and now the red tint on his face made him feel like he would always match you. He, with his bright orange hair; and you, with your bright red scarf. Maybe it was the preteen years that still have him a childlike joy, but if the sight of you wearing the scarf kept giving him this fluttering feeling, then he’ll take it.

Although , for some reason, the days seemed a little brighter now whenever your face was buried in your scarf during school days. Mornings seemed a little warmer when you offered to share your scarf with him. Afternoons seemed a little sunnier when you walked with him home from school.

Maybe, this was what your hometown in Natlan felt like. Or, maybe, everything was so cold without his sun to melt his young heart into a puddle by your shoes.

And now, looking back, with the ends of this red fabric all worn and stretched around his neck—he still thinks it looks just like you.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

LA SIGNORA. rosalyne

Perhaps it was an over-speculation on her part.

Perhaps, you weren’t as bad as she initially thought under this lovely morning light, or with your sweet perfume clashing well with the withering books of the akademiya library. And perhaps, maybe you weren’t a rival in her thesis if your hand felt so nice atop her own ( even though you were reaching for the same exact book ).

“You’re also researching liquid flame?” you perked up, sending her the most nonchalant of glances that made her flustered you even remembered her. The question implied you had no idea she was writing the same topic as you were for her thesis—it implied that you really had no malicious attempt against her at all. Suddenly, she thinks she doesn’t hate you at all, with your hand still over hers on the book, even after the nights she spent obsessively studying to finish her paper before you do.

“Yes,” she says, and there’s quite the chance she forgets how to speak properly. But her senses spike the moment you smile in such a supportive way, completely void of any rivalry to writing the same paper.

Then out of nowhere, she finds herself at a table with you, hunched over this singular book—and perhaps this is the first time she struggles to focus on the words on the page. Because you’re so smart, and somehow even more attractive than she formerly realized, she may think she’s diseased with an admiration she had not even researched before.

The feeling is akin to what she’s read in romance books, but she never had time for it back in Mondstadt or even here in the akademiya. It’s a bit sickening, but it makes her feel so light in the head in this lovey-dovey way she wishes would stay forever. Being so close to her, hunched over a book like this—she can’t wait to see you at your next class together.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

SCARAMOUCHE. kunikuzushi

“So many lavender melons!” he laughed wholeheartedly once he saw the pile of the purple fruit on the floor.

And he laughed with his whole chest, smiling with his whole face—so full of joy that he could trick anyone into thinking he was born with a heart. When he knelt down in front of you, too, the human excitement on his face was ever-so present and clear as day, even as the fabric of his hood fell over his eyes.

“You know, my hair was made from lavender melons,” he eagerly shared, nothing but everlasting enthusiasm in his gaze when he tilted his head back up to look at you.

Show him even the slightest bit of interest, and he’ll ramble on for days. So you simply asked, “Your hair?”

“Not my hair specifically,” he began to explain, “but the color—the dye!” And when he pulled his hood back, you couldn’t help but stare. He looked just like your archon, even the same length of her hair. How could a doll so perfectly made still act so human? “At Konda village, there’s a traditional art to turn the fruit skin into dye. My mother used it for my head,” he almost smiled to himself.

It’s pretty, you could always tell him that again. But of course a man-made set of hair was pretty, for he was more perfect than human. So you bit your tongue, instead moving across the lavender melon pile to sit next to him and grab a few strands of his hair. It was so long, so smooth… “Have you ever thought of cutting it?”

“Huh?” he perked up. A sudden look fear stuck onto his face for just a moment, and you worried you might’ve said something wrong. “Cutting it…? Like, short?”

You only hummed in affirmation.

He stayed silent for a moment, but you didn’t know if he was pondering or close to crying. “Will it… make me look less like a girl?” You were quick to understand the true meaning of this.

‘Will it make me look less like my mom?’

“Yes,” you smiled. He practically threw himself into your arms in excitement.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

DOTTORE. zandik

Intelligence was so attractive.

And intelligence in mechanics was even more attractive.

That was his standard, at least. The name Zandik was already widespread and known throughout the akademiya as the one to avoid, as he is on the brink of suspension. It was kind of annoying, being well into his studies here but still being threatened with getting expelled before he could even achieve his massive breakthrough.

And you were there, too. You, who he somehow secured a date with tonight. It was odd, really, how you accepted his proposal so easily. Well, to him it wasn’t odd—but to the rest of the student community it surely was, simply because he’s the weird kid.

But regardless, he took pride in this. And he was going to take you to his most favorite place in all of his home nation: The gigantic ruin guard robot sitting at the mountains south of Sumeru.

He was a type of person that didn’t realize he rambled on too much, but he was also someone that didn’t like being shut up, either. It took a certain type of patience just to not throw him off—and unbeknownst, you either had that patience, or maybe he just liked you enough to look past it.

But it was odd, it really was. How he caught himself staring at you as you were so deeply etched into your work at the akademiya’s mechanical lab. He swears he’s never seen you before, and that’s how his obsessive, hyperfixated researching leads him to find that you’re a new student who doesn’t even know of his name or his deeds at this school.

And though he’s never cared for reputation, it somehow feels so relieving, like for once in his life he cared about someone else’s thoughts on him. And, ah, it was almost time to pick you up. He hoped you liked robot gears in the shape of flowers.

pre-fatui harbingers will always have my heart 💓

#childe x reader #scaramouche x reader #la signora x reader #dottore x reader #wanderer x reader #tartaglia x reader #signora x reader #ajax x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x gender neutral reader

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chiiyuuvv · 5 months

Text

wc; 974

Thinking about classmate!eunseok, who you aren't necessarily friends with, but was someone that was always friendly. You decided to sit next to each other in your college course, agreeing to help the other out.

But recently eunseoks been really tired, stay up late since a new game just dropped last week, and hes been at it with seunghan ever since. The professor's droning voice along with the slightly chilly room sends him in a daze, his eyes getting heavier and heavier until they finally shut, his head leaning until they hit your shoulder.

You were a little shocked at first, having to erase your now messed up letters as you look over at him with a chuckle. Struggling to get your jacket, you place it over his sleeping figure, then continue taking notes.

You didnt mind the first time, or the second time, or the third time.. until it became a habit. Eunseok would come to class saying how he wasnt going to fall asleep but 10 minutes in and hes tapped out, his chair closer to yours so he can rest comfortably against you, his soft hair rubbing against your neck and his pink lips parted that it sends a ping to your heart. But you look away; you didnt want to invade his privacy (even if he was laying on you) and you had to take notes for you to study, and so you could teach eunseok.

It happens so much to the point that random students approach your small corner by the window daily, asking you and a sleeping eunseok if you were together, but you always shook your head no with a laugh.

Maybe this was something reserved for boyfriends and girlfriends? You hadnt put much thought into it, just thinking of doing a favor for a friend.

There's was one day when eunseok was half asleep, his eyes closed and snoring, when another student pops up to ask the same question. He couldnt pick up everything, but he could faintly hear the 'youre so cute together!! Are you dating??' and it wakes him up faster than his alarm. His eyes doesnt shoot open though, and he doesnt sit up as he was too comfortable, so he gets a bold idea.

His crossed arms begin to unravel and wrap around your waist, now side hugging you as it gets your attention quickly, causing your sentence of telling the girls no to halt, your head snapping at his direction.

Youre not too sure what came over yourself as your hand comes up to lightly ruffle his fluffy hair, tucking some of it behind his ear. The girls coo before realiizing their interrupting something, running back to their seats to watch the drama unfold. Eunseoks eyes finally open at your touch, realiizing how close you were, your breath lightly fanning his face. The familiar ping in your heart comes back at the sight of his big boba eyes boring into yours, his lips still parted and looking so kissable, but you shake that thought off and send him your usual smile.

As well as your usual question, "how was your sleep?" You notice how quickly eunseok sits up, his warmth leaving you as he clears his throat, running his hand through his messy hair and avoiding your gaze. "G-good?" The was the first time you ever heard him stutter, along with finding the tip of his ears red.

"Oh." Was all you could say before the bell rings, signaling the long and hard day was over, gathering up your stuff and throwing your bag over your shoulder. "Lemme help you.." you hear him mutter as he puts some of your notebooks in your bag and zipping it up, patting it to show hes done.

"Such a gentlemen." You joke, a low chuckle leaving his lips as you finally stand up from your chair, stretching your legs with a sigh.

Its been an unspoken rule that eunseok walks you home ever since hes been sleeping on you, leading you out of the university and to the grass sidewalk. "Hey.. can we talk..?" His hands were stuffed into his pockets as he stops walking, his big boba eyes looking up at you again as your heart begins to race. For two reasons actually, cute!! and oh no, whats wrong?

"What's up?" You try to hide your nervousness as you watch eunseok take a step closer to you, his shyness making the air a little heavy. "Thank you." He says breathlessly, a smile forming as your eye brows raise.

"For?" You gesture him to continue.

"For.. everything, really. For letting me sleep on you, for taking notes for me.. and teaching me. You teach way better than the professor by the way."

You share a chuckle, before eunseok looks at you seriously again.

"I feel like ive been taking advantage of you, so whenever you're feeling tired, you can lay on me. O-or if you need anyone to talk to..!! Im right here!" He finishes the last part shyly, his hand coming up to rub his nape.

"Eunseok.." was all you could mutter as you acknowledge his kindness. He looks up with a little grin before his eyes widen as you hug him, his strong arms coming to wrap around your waist, holding you tightly.

The next day, eunseok decides to go to bed a bit early, coming into the university with more energy than hes ever had. Sitting down next to you and jotting down notes, his doesnt fail to notice how you've been yawning ever since the professor came into the class.

"What, no, eunse-"

"Nope." He chuckles, softly pushing your head to his shoulder so you can rest comfortably, his arm coming to encirle your waist while the other is busy writing. "You rest, I'll take notes for the both of us." ♡

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peterparkouryo · 3 months

Text

rebound iv | ✧.*

✧.*

prompt; You had been in a relationship with Peter for months until he broke up with you. It was tough at first, but over time you began to move on and eventually found someone new. However, Peter couldn't handle seeing you with someone else and it was clear he was still harbouring feelings for you.

warnings: one-sided pining, angst (cuz you love it), guilty peter, very bad person peter, arguments, and maybe fluff idk

word count: 8.0k

a/n: ITS HEREEE!!!! tysm for the love on this series and sorry part four took so so so long to publish! THIS IS THE LAST PART DON'T ASK FOR MORE, PLEASE!! i'm so glad to be back, but if i'm honest? this last part is trash and rushed lol.

part one part two part three

"You should consider Ned."

Betty shows a smile, one to only be described as sarcastic before shrugging, digging through more clothes in her closet.

"Yeah, sure, maybe, but I'm more of a committee kinda girl." She offers, pulling out a black plaid skirt, turning to face you.

You accept the skirt from her hold, scanning the fabric curiously before giving her a nod in approval, to which she claps her hands together in excitement to.

"When's prom anyway?" You wonder, putting the black plaid skirt in your bag with the many other donated clothing your friend had gave you.

"Like couple weeks?" The blonde shrugs, closing her closet door before spinning toward you and made her way to the edge of her bed.

Betty had invited you over her house so she could "put you in something" nice for an upcoming date you had with a boy you had been dating for well over a few weeks now.

It was safe to say that asking her for an outfit recommendation wasn't the smartest of ideas, but it's not like you had many other girl friends to ask.

And your blonde friend was definitely the more expert of boys than you were (obviously), despite her having the lesser advance of dating when it came to them.

"What's his name again?" Betty asks, sitting next to you as she sorts through your clothes and folds them neatly.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at her motherly habit.

"Miles." You answer.

"The junior?!" Betty gasp, you can see eyes light up in excitement and can't help but nod and smile widely.

"Yeah." You confirm.

Miles was the better half of you, probably the best version if you were being honest. He wasn't toxic, a sweet boy, and always knew what the right thing to say was at the most inconvenient times. Of course, he was a nerd, or what you'd call a dork (guess you had a type).

It took you a while to come to terms with the fact that the boy had a crush on you, for...well, many reasons, but once the sun came down and reality settled in, you slowly found yourself noticing him more than just a quiet classmate in your physiology class.

Though it took awhile for you to come to terms with those feelings given the fact you had just gotten out of a relationship at the time, but you deserved to be happy, not wanting to dawn too much on your trouble passed.

"He's been asking you out for like, ever." The blonde points out and you laugh as you give her a nod.

"Right, like I felt bad when I kept saying no, and it's only because I was fresh out of a relationship." You explain as Betty nods, reorganizing the closet she messed up on behalf of you.

Miles tried one last time to ask you out on a date, and you finally gave in, though you weren't full healed from your previous relationship, but you figured you weren't the type of person to lead someone on and deserved to be happy with someone who you knew would give what you craved for.

Miles was the perfect example of providing happiness, even if he himself didn't really know that.

When you said yes, you were your nervous self and immediately asked Betty, who was more than thrilled to help.

"And he's so cute." You sigh dreamily.

Betty laughs, closing her closet before turning back around and made her way to you once again.

"You think he's gonna ask you to prom?" She wonders, and you give her a look of confusion.

Honestly, you had little to no thoughts about prom given the fact that who you thought you were originally going to go with wasn't an option anymore. After the past couple of months, you had not given prom a single thought, because by default, there was truly no point in thinking you were going unless your blonde friend forced you against your will to go.

Had you known you'd be dating someone else as the deadline got closer, you'd given it much more thought, but neither you or Miles had voiced your opinion on it, so you automatically assumed he didn't want to go or just didn't have the right courage to ask you.

"I dunno, not something we really talk about." You say with a shrug.

"You should ask him, you're the senior."

You give Betty a look one would describe as if she suggested something completely outrageous.

"No, no that's not a good idea. I think we'll just see how this goes, and if it comes up I'll see how he feels about it." You quickly explain, Betty only shrugs.

"And if he doesn't wanna go I'll take you." She smirks.

"I figured."

You both let out a laugh.

You knew being the ex of a superhero would eventually come back to bite you in the ass.

It wasn't like you could avoid him forever, he was your Queens hero, so yes, you were aware that you did have to hear high praise about him from time to time.

But it being from Miles, the guy you were seeing was weird.

Of course he didn't know of Spider-Man's true identity, but it was eery having to hear your current boyfriend sing praises to your ex boyfriend.

You weren't a mean person either, so you let him.

"And when he beat up those muggers," Miles reenacts most of the accurate actions Spider-Man does. "It was really cool." He smiles from ear to ear at you and all you do is force one back.

"Yeah, well, that's Spider-Man for you." You begin to pick at your food, wanting more than anything to have this conversation come to an end.

Miles being no idiot, notices your lack of interest into the subject of Spider-Man.

"Oh, am I being annoying? I'm sorry." He deflates and you're quick to stop picking at your food to look at him.

"No, no it's not that you're being annoying, I swear. I just...." You trail off.

You were wondering exactly what would happen if you told him you dated Spider-Man. It probably would end up being more questions than jealousy.

And you were in no mood for either.

"I have a friend who works for the Daily Bugle, so you can imagine how much I have to hear about him." You lie and Miles lets out a small chuckle at your sentence.

"Right, I'll make sure to only mention him when completely necessary."

All you really can do is smile at him. Miles was too good to be true, you really had no idea what you could have done to earn such a perfect boy.

Minus the here and there mentions of your ex boyfriend, you'd like to think the date was going well.

You were so nervous as the days went by, getting closer to this well anticipated date and the butterflies never really left when the day became real.

Miles was no surprise a gentleman, bringing your favourite flowers to you and compliments fell from his lips the minute he saw you. He made you feel good.

You two decided on a pasta date only because you expressed how much you loved Italian food and he was more than happy to take you to his favourite Italian spot with its thankfully cheap food.

After the date, he offers to walk you home, and you accept it a bit too eagerly, hoping he wasn't so observant to notice.

You decide to fill the comfortable silence with a question.

"Got any plans for the summer?"

Miles gives you a look as he holds your hand, absentmindedly swinging it back and forth before deciding to answer your question.

"Hm, not really. I just do whatever my parents have in mind." He shrugs.

You nod, giving his hand a small squeeze.

"I mean, we can do stuff?" You suggest awkwardly, your free hand fiddling with the necklace around your neck.

The boy's eyes light up at your suggestion and you can't help but smile at his look of happiness, and he starts nodding before he speaks up.

"I'd love that, totally." He grins and you look ahead of you as you watch your building become more into view.

You both continue your walk, chatting about anything that came in mind and the more you talked, the more you come to realize how much you two have in common.

It was like fate was falling into your hands, and you couldn't be more than happy. It was all too good to be true and you made the mistake of trusting fate in your previous relationship, only to be severely traumatized and heartbroken.

You prayed to any god above Miles was nothing like Peter, if anything, better.

Peter. It had been a long time since you said that name, let alone thought it.

Your train of thoughts are broken when you reach the entrance of your apartment building and you smile at Miles, watching him return it with his gorgeous white teeth.

"I'll see you at school?" Miles slowly drops your hand as you give him a nod.

"Yeah, today was really fun." You tell him honestly and his smile never really goes away.

Before the boy even has a chance to respond, you lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

You two never had any sort of intimate moment, even anything as small as this, so you were a blushing mess when you pull away to watch his reaction, noticing his adorable brown eyes dilated and if you pay closer attention, you could almost see the heat rising to his face.

"That good?" He quips and you playfully roll your eyes.

"Bye Miles." You wave as he gives reciprocates it, turning around with a bounce to his step (which you can't help smile at his dorkiness), walking more and more out of view.

You smile to yourself as you make your way to your apartment, and you only wish you knew this'd be your last time at feeling even remotely happy.

You were starting to believe someone was out to get you. Maybe fate wasn't actually falling in your hands and you just had this habit of attracting bad things whenever something good came your way.

This time around, it was not your fault for the bad things happening to you, it was Peter's.

You thought you two had this silent agreement that after you found your closure, you'd never have to talk to each other again, which was going well for the past few months, avoiding each other like the plague or just simply pretending either or did not exist.

For some reason though, the boy couldn't take the hint and it was bringing back old nightmares you didn't want to relive.

Peter had this habit of sticking to you like a bug (no pun intended) and you were worried it had something to do with the still lingering feelings he clearly still had for you, which is something you did not know until you started seeing Miles.

When you said you hadn't thought about Peter in a very long time, you meant it as three days sober without the boy trying to ruin your life. You really had no idea why it was a problem for Peter to be happy for you when you were more than supportive for his now ex relationship with MJ.

Michelle wasn't too keen on telling. you the details of why they broke up after two months of dating, but you had this feeling it had something to do with you, which is so selfish, but Peter being Peter can't help but make the obvious, well, obvious.

Every conversation you have with him ends in an argument, a petty one at most.

So, when he approached your locker, you were prepared for the worst.

"Are you still coming to the decathlon meeting?" Is the first thing he asks you, and it's not like you're expecting an 'hi, how are you?', most of your conversations nowadays are usually straight to the point.

"Why?"

"Because, you never go anymore? Like, what type of question is that..." Peter mumbles the last bit, but you hear it, and you take a deep breath in to not say anything back.

"We'll see, I might hang out with Miles after school." You shrug as you close your locker and you see Peter roll his eyes from the corner of your eye.

"If you're gonna keep ditching, what's the point in being on the team?" Peter questions almost hypocritically.

"You're one to talk." You argue.

"That's different. I have a reason to, you? Not so much." He shrugs and you let out a scoff and turn to walk away, not wanting to be predictable and provoke an oncoming argument.

And as also predicted, Peter follows you like a lost puppy.

"Do you always have to hang out with him after school?" He quizzes, and you stop in your tracks, to give him a questionable look.

"Well yeah, that's what boyfriend and girlfriends do Peter. Once upon a time, we use to do that exact thing." You narrow your eyes at the boy as he looks anywhere but at you.

Again, you're not the smartest person alive, but it was painfully obvious Peter for some reason still harboured feelings for you and you were all sorts of confused as it was him who broke up with you in the first place.

You just wanted him to leave you alone, you've been through so much because of him, but yet, he can't take the hint no matter what you do.

"I know, and I still feel bad about breaking up with you." Peter sighs and you shake your head quickly.

"No, please Peter, stop while you're at it." You warn, watching the boys face visibly deflate at your rejection.

Peter was not stupid (most of the time), so you knew that he knows just how good he was at being a manipulator. His favourite technique was obviously guilt-tripping and being the best at putting the blame on others because he's "been through so much". You learned that the hard way, and now you were glad you could point out the red flags whenever he tried to do exactly that.

"What? I'm not doing anything." He shrugs innocently and you roll your eyes at his faux innocence.

Before you could voice your comeback, the bell rings and you let an all too familiar feeling settle in your stomach.

You decide to keep the silence in between you both, turning around to walk to your class and dare you even try to look back at Peter.

You both knew this was not the end of it, if anything, only the beginning of something worst.

It had been a week since that encountrment with Peter, and of course things have gotten progressively worst for you. All because of him.

Quite frankly, you had no idea why your ex boyfriend was so obsessed with you. Yeah, most exes are and normally it'd be the other way around but when you two were together he never made such an effort as he was trying to make now.

It was painfully annoying and you keep wishing he'd leave you alone, but its almost as clear as day that he will not do that until you rekindle whatever relationship you had to begin with.

Miles is thankfully unaware of Peter's obsession and he has been the best boyfriend (dare you say you've ever had), and unknowingly helping you keep your mind off of things Peter related or not.

"What if we don't go to the movies and just watch one at my place?" Miles suggested, placing a fry in his mouth after he finishes his sentence.

You look up from your shake and tilt your head for a moment to think about his not so subtle suggestion.

"Y'know most movie watchings at home with your significant other leads to a make out session?" You shrug just as Miles eyes widen at your words.

You were kidding of course but you didn't want to tell him that because his reaction was just so adorable.

"Is that a known statistic or...?"

You shrug again and drink your milkshake.

Miles continues to stare at you, digesting your suggestion slowly before nodding his head rather out of habit or he started to consider what you had said.

"I mean, sure why not?" He smiles and you wipe the whipped cream from the corner of your mouth and retort his smile.

It was rare for you and Miles to have any alone time because you both were just so awkward, more awkward than your previous ex boyfriend but you guess it was justifiable considering Miles was a year younger than you and from what you know, barely had knowledge of how girls worked.

You weren't any better, but you at least had some understanding ono how to have a boyfriend and it wasn't anything to be taken seriously because you two were having fun.

On the plus side, you had a plan to ask him to prom (after the whole make out session), and there was this strange feeling that made you have hope because even to a blind person anyone could see how smitten he was with you.

"Are you saying 'sure, why not' to making out with me?"

Miles blinks rapidly before shrugging. "Yeah?"

You nod and play with a fry, the door's bell ringing indicating someone has entered, but you pay no mind to it.

"So are we gonna like...watch the movie first or y'know, make out..first, I mean." Miles clears his throat as you look up, tilting your head.

"Well its not like a thing planned out so, we can just see what happens." You answer unsurely. Honestly, most of half your movie watching with Peter always lead to make outs on some level, but you never really understood how they happen.

But, this thankfully is not about Peter, who broke your heart because he was in love with someone else, Peter who is your Queens superhero, Spider-Man, and Peter, who was walking toward you?

You blink a few times to make sure your head isn't playing tricks on you and once you have time to think, you realize that, yes he is walking toward you, and you have no time to run or hide.

"Do you think we could do that first?" Miles asks with a small smile and you look away from the approaching Peter back to your boyfriend way too quickly for your liking.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" You furrow your eyebrows and show what you hope was an apologetic smile and not a nervous one.

"Hey guys." The tortuous voice you had no option but facing greets and you watch Miles and only Miles as he looks away from you to show a friendly smile towards Peter, who you are surely becoming more loathing towards.

"Oh, hey Peter," Miles spares you a glance as you shake your head.

One thing about Peter is that he's the kind of guy to set his mind on a goal and make it his mission to achieve it, so whatever it was that he had planned that involved you, you knew that all your interactions so far was merely just the beginning, and it scared you.

"Didn't know you two would be here." Peter presses his lips together, something he did when he was either nervous or lying, and you had a feeling it was the latter.

You remain silent, which evidently did not help with the awkwardness, but you weren't going to give into Peter's satisfaction and talk to him when you were here to enjoy your date with Miles and not acknowledge the boy who broke your heart.

You could feel your heartbeat speed up, and not in a good way. It was the kind of anxiety someone experience when something unpropitious lingered, like a bad taste in your mouth.

You wanted to get up, take Miles' hand and drag him and yourself out of the diner, but you didn't want to come off as rude and have your poor boyfriend question the sudden departure from the establishment, but deep down you knew that it was either that or suffer through the presence of Peter Parker.

"You wanna join us?" Miles offers, gesturing towards the table with a friendly smile, you only frown at your plate of fries.

"Oh no thanks, I'm already meeting a friend." Peter declines, shrugging his shoulders with a small smile.

Mentally, you thank god for the boy declining Miles offer, because frankly, things are already awkward enough. You can feel the tension growing more uncomfortable with each passing second, and you're wishing the waitress hurried up with the bill.

Your boyfriend mumbles a small 'oh', and nods his head before glancing at you, probably wondering why you're suddenly so quiet.

Theres another deafening silence that dawdles in the air and you press your lips together to withhold the grimace forming on your face, because you can't stand any sort of undetermined traction.

Peter lets out a nervous laugh and clears his throat. "I should go, nice seeing you Miles." He doesn't spare you a glance (not that you care) and leaves you and your boyfriend alone, finally.

You look up as Miles watch Peter walk to a far booth away from the both of you, shortly after he's done staring down the boy he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows.

"Does he hate you or something? A blind person could point out the tension." He says with a small frown of confusion.

You shrug and play with a fry. You could keep the truth to yourself or just give Miles the honest answer, which could just make things even more awkward. There's a small debate in your head for five more seconds before you sigh.

"I mean, we dated for awhile a couple months ago." You mumble, keeping your gaze on your half empty plate.

"You dated him?" Miles gasps as you nod silently.

"That makes sense,"

You give him a look as he shrugs.

"He seems like he still has some feelings for you if the tension was that awkward." Miles explains as the waitress finally comes to the table with your bill.

You grab the receipt as you replay his words in your brain. The signs couldn't be more clearer, even if you evidently tried to ignore the fact that Peter still had feelings, it was almost pointless to remain oblivious if even your new boyfriend could see how your old one felt.

"Yeah, well its in the past." You shrug as you stand up from the booth. Miles does the same and holds out his hand for you to take and you smile and accept his offer.

As the two of you make your way out of the diner, you feel a pair of eyes on you but you don't have the energy to turn and scan every single face just to find the culprit who's staring you down. Plus it certainly doesn't take a rocket scientist to know exactly who that culprit is.

A comfortable tranquility takes over when you and Miles walk hand in hand, the warmth flowing from his touch is a solace to the chaotic life that is yours and your mind is temporarily at peace when you're with him.

Fall was leisurely making its way into winter as you felt the freezing air ruminate your skin, the comfortable yet small sweater doing almost nothing to shield you from the chilly air.

You're thankful Miles' hand in yours keeps you from completely freezing to death. His fingers were more of a heater than the thin layer you dare called a sweater.

"Why'd you two breakup, if you don't mind me asking?" Miles' voice is soft as he asks a question you'd much rather not ask since the wound of that scar has yet to heal, but you're not going to hold the curiosity of your boyfriend against him.

"Um," You search for the best way to explain the words stuck in your brain. "He kind of just, fell for someone else." You grimace at the memories climbing its way to your mind and you spare no glance at Miles.

There's a sensitive silence that looms in the air and you assume its because Miles takes the time to digest your words.

"Oh,"

"Yeah, but I'm over it so don't feel bad." You reassure and you look over to the boy with a small smile and he unsurely smiles back with a nod.

"Hey, so I was thinking..." He starts and looks down at the pavement the two of you were walking on. You raise an eyebrow, gazing at him as you patiently wait for him to continue with whatever it was he was willing to open up to you.

"I know you're a senior, and I'm a junior but I really think you and I should go to prom." Miles blurts and looks at you just as quickly as you look at him, both of your eyes widen.

"Prom?"

You couldn't help but smile at his suggestion, because you were itching to ask him ever since Betty brought the idea to your head. You just didn't know how to go about asking him, and you did plan to make it all romantic like, since it would've counted as a 'promposal'. Miles most likely asked you because the deadline was just two weeks away, and that gave you no time whatsoever to find a prom dress.

"Yeah, if you wanna go with me, I'd really like that. My mom already bought the tickets so..." He trails off and you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

Now you couldn't say no, not that you had any thoughts to reject his proposal. Never even haven met Miles' parents, or mother, and she was already so eager to see her son and his new girlfriend she had no face but a name to, to go to prom together. Your smile that never really went away extends into a grin.

"I think you stole the words straight from my mouth." You nod as your boyfriend grins from ear to ear and you two stop walking, awhile ago you notice.

Miles pulls you into a hug and you laugh whole-heartedly at his embrace, hugging him back as the comfort embeds through your body.

"Thank you." He mumbles before pulling away slightly to stare at you as if you hung the stars in the sky, which makes you blush and smile with a soft hum.

"You're welcome."

You flinch when your blonde friend tightens the string of the prom dress and you glare at her through the mirror as she mutters a apology.

"This hugs your body so nice, I'll buy it for you." She promises for the 100th time and you roll your eyes and take a step back to observe the dress in your reflection.

If you were as confident as you desired to be, you'd say that this dress had been the one from all the other ninety-nine others your friend had made you tried on.

The dress was your colour, it fit you nicely the way you wanted it to, and you felt beautiful in it. Since dresses weren't really your thing you opted to wear a suit to which your blonde friend gasps in horror as if the option was completely ludicrous and off the table. She told you it was fruitless to wear such a thing to a ball because Miles most definitely would already be wearing a nice tux and it'd be corny to have you in one as well.

You agreed to let her put you in dresses and such like a barbie and you went to your local dress store where she had only made you try on a gazillion outfits until you found the one you were currently wearing, making you absentmindedly check yourself out in the mirror in front of you.

"You look like a twenty-five year old model that Leonardo DiCaprio would go for!" Betty squeals and claps her hands together. You shake your head at her weirdly sweet but yet more disturbing compliment.

"Thanks?" You furrow your eyebrows and turn to look at her.

Betty twirls you around like a princess, observing your fit from head to toe. Almost like an artist critiquing its art.

"I think you'll have Miles speechless." She grins and you smile hopefully. "Really?" Betty nods.

The mirror made you look almost angel like as you stare back at it. You really did feel gorgeous in the gown and you really wanted it to make yourself feel good, and you knew anytime of dress, or even a garbage bag would look good to your boyfriend because he really is that perfect.

"'M gonna go see if I can find any shoes," You hear Betty's voice and you nod as you look at the corset of the dress, tracing your fingers across the fabric slowly.

You continue to check yourself out in the mirror and a person behind you clears her throat and you turn around swiftly, surprised to see Michelle standing there with a shopping bag and an almost glare had you paid close attention to the glare.

Your hand fiddles with the necklace around your neck and she looks you over and your self-consciousness arises with her gaze.

Michelle had not been the nicest person, to anyone really since she broke up with Peter and the quiet girl went MIA from school and the decathlon team. You felt terrible for the poor girl, because there were the obvious reasons and maybe even reasons you didn't know about as of why her and Peter broke up.

"Your dress is gorgeous on you." She hums and you look at her with an unwavering blank stare. The confusion must had been evident on your face because MJ shakes her head with a sigh.

The tension consumed the vibe of both your presence. You speak up in a calm manner.

"Look, I don't know if you hate me or something but I'm really sorry, you deserve so much better MJ." You look at her with an empathetic gaze.

"Michelle." She corrects.

Your nose scrunches up in a small grimace.

"Right, Michelle. Sorry." You nod in understanding.

"I don't blame you for the break up, but we both know." Michelle gives you a look, the only thing you can do is nod once again. Your head gazes at her converses with a defeated sigh, nothing coming to your mind to say to her because yes, you do know.

The tension fades away when the bubbly girl who is your friend, Betty returns with shoes that match your dress with a happy grin and holds them up to you.

"Cute, right?" She shows you her pearly whites and you give her a thumbs up, watching Michelle walk past the two of you and Betty catches the back of the girl's head and looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

You shake your head quickly, not wanting to talk about it.

After the whole short but definite straining conversation with Michelle you try to take your mind off it, changing into your regular clothes and both you and Betty buy the dress you're satisfied with as well as the shoes and you suggest ice cream for lunch and she agrees without hesitation.

"Divina!" Mrs. Morales exclaims and takes another picture. You try to keep your smile prominent for the maybe millionth picture? You lost count.

When you arrived at the Morales household, Miles' mother was the one to answer and she had gave your mother a look of disbelief, small praising spanish words fell from her lips with a smile. You were already feeling hopeful and just to hear the praising words from your boyfriend's mother who you did officially meet for the first time, was rewarding to say the least.

Miles came down from the stairs, looking quite handsome in his tux and the way his jaw dropped when he saw you standing there with your mother, looking around his apartment aimlessly had been an out of body experience for you, because no one had ever looked at you the way he did, not even Peter.

"Mama, por favor!" He groans from next to you and you laugh as your mother does as well.

Mrs. Morales finally stops taking pictures, placing her camera on the counter nearby.

"Sorry, sorry. You two just look so good together." She smiles and turns to your mother, showing her the pictures she had took.

You turn your attention to Miles, who now takes the time to hold up the container of which had your corsage in it up to you, a silent question and you nod as an answer.

The boy slowly and yet so carefully opens the container, taking out the corsage and slipping it around your wrist, taking ahold of your hand after he finishes, looking from your wrist to your eyes that had already been staring at him.

"You look really pretty, beautiful even." Miles whispers, but before you can say anything there's a flash and the both of you tear your gazes away from each other, to the culprit at hand, Mrs. Morales and your mother both have their phones in their hands with ear to ear grins as they capture the memory of your little moment.

The two of you groan in annoyance at the ruined gravity of peace.

The dance was like anything you could had ever imagined, from the sequence sparkling chandelier lights dangling from the ceiling, illuminating the gym with an almost elegance aura, to the blue and white decorations to represent your school colours made you feel like you were at a ball rather than the prom.

"This can't be the same gym as our school's." Miles hand was in yours as the two of you enter the gymnasium, and you giggle at his words, watching many bodies chatter or dance with each other.

He was right, the gym you were used to always had a weird smell and it unquestionably had no qualities to hold students for a senior prom, yet you were proven other wise.

The two of you make your way further into the dance and you see Betty with Ned, which you find ironic since she had sung a tune in your ear that she would much rather be helping set up the prom and keep it well done than ever consider having Ned take her as a date. You tilt your head at the girl with a knowing look, her only retort is rolling her eyes.

The night was bound to be full of surprises, you suspect.

"You look great guys!" Ned smiles and fist pumps Miles, an adorable thing the two of them did whenever they ran into each other, and you hug Betty as well as Ned.

"Thank you."

Your gaze scan the dance once again, your anxiety rises when you catch a familiar set of brown eyes walking towards your group.

Never in a million years would you had ever thought Peter Parker to attend a dance without a date. It was a out of character thing to observe, but it was true since every year from the ninth grade, stopping at last year, you two attended every single dance together, even making a promise that if you were to break up before prom that neither of you would participate in said dance.

Times had changed of course, given you now had a new boyfriend, attending with him instead of Peter, but the brown haired boy had no date and that is what you truly found weird. But you had no room to judge him, ultimately, it was none of your business, nor did you care why he was even here.

The way he looked at you as he made his way towards you made you nervous for a multitude of possibilities. He had never made the effort to give you such attention before, but there was something in his eyes that gave you an unsettling feeling, a feeling that you were growing accustomed to since he broke up with you all those months ago.

The gut feeling as if something bad foretold in the air.

Once Peter had successfully made it over to the four of you, his gaze never actually left yours and you had to subtly hide behind Miles to inaudibly declare your uncomfortable state, though sadly it went unnoticed as your boyfriend converses with Ned.

"Peter, you look very handsome." Betty voices, causing the two boys to stop their chatter and look over to the boy who broke his gaze away from you (finally), clearing his throat, giving your blonde friend a small tight-lipped smile and greeted Ned with their signature handshake.

Miles gives Peter a nod and he reciprocates it. You look down at your heels, that were a pain to walk in, avoiding eye contact with the brown haired boy.

Thanking the gods from above, Miles takes your hand with a smile and you look up at him with your own, ignoring, shutting out, whatever you want to call it, Peter's gaze that you sensed form into a glare.

"Let's go dance." Betty quickly drags Ned away, being little to no help with the eye-twitching obvious tension between you, Miles and Peter.

Why had Peter made it his mission to give you an anxiety inducing, gut wrenching run for your money every time you two interacted? You wish you knew, you really did.

You fiddle with the necklace and Peter takes notice of it and speaks his mind, and you wish he hadn't.

"I like your necklace." He nods and you stop your fidgeting to glare at him, watching the boy smile innocently. This, of course draws the attention of your boyfriend.

"Oh yeah, cool spider necklace." He smiles.

Peter could careless if you were glaring at him, and you felt your anger boil through your entire body, ready to attack him had he have the audacity to say something sly from his mouth once again.

You both knew that Peter was the one to had given you the very necklace you wore around your neck, almost everyday and the reason you didn't take it off was unclear, but you knew deep down it had nothing to do with Peter, or maybe it did but it was not like you still had the feelings for him you once had before.

It was a shame that the boy took pride in the gloating fact you still wore it, but it wasn't for him. More so, for you.

"Miles, do you wanna dance?" You look over to your boyfriend with a smile and he quickly nods like you had just offered him candy, Peter frowns and you glance at him before walking off to the dance floor.

The two of you make your way to the centre of the gym, most students still danced or talked nearby, but you paid no mind to it as you wrap your arms around Miles' neck, he was unsure where to put his hands and you smile at his awkwardness.

With pleasure, you guide his hand to your waist, he understands with ease. His hands on your waist was a comforting experience for both you and him. As if on time, the music switched from a Taylor Swift song you briefly recognized to a slow song, an Elvis Presley one at that.

You can't help but notice the way he was looking at you with a small smile, but his eyes held adoration in them, and it was the same look he always gave you, but his longing stare was more amplified than per usual, it made your heart speed up and you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

Your neck begin to itch with anxiety, but it was the good kind and you were so happy that you were able to feel easiness that you had been looking for in the past year.

Miles was the person you were meant to be with, and you felt like nothing could get in the way between you both. No matter how hard Peter tried to slither his way back into your life, the better person will always be Miles.

The solace is beautiful, the two of you holding each other as 'Can't help falling in love with you' (ironic), played in the background, other classmates were dancing as well, but they disappeared from your mind. Everyone but your boyfriend blocked out from your brain, the both of you looked at each other with such protection and warmth that you failed to notice which one of you even leaned closer.

The kiss was short, sure but it was confounding and so very soft. You pulled away with a, looking down as Miles laughed at your behaviour.

"That was nice." He nods and you look back at him with raised eyebrows. "Yeah."

"Thirsty?"

You nod as the slow song comes to an end, pulling away from him, but still close enough to feel his residence.

"I'll be quick." Miles promises and gives your cheek a kiss, turning his back to you and walks toward the punch table, that was more of a buffet if anything, given the unnaturally amount of food and desserts decorating the furniture piece.

You gnaw slightly at the bottom of your lip with a smile, and your fingers trace the spider trinket of the necklace around your neck, a voice interrupts your dreamy thoughts from behind you and you turn around.

"Can we talk? I know I say that a lot for the past three chapters of our conversations, but...please." Peter walks closer to you and you take a step back when he does, your hand falls to your side with a frown.

"Not now, or maybe ever." You scoff, attempting to walk away from him but he gently steps in your way.

This was going to take a turn for the worst, that much you could tell.

"Please!" He gives you puppy dog eyes, and looks at you as if this was the last thing he will ever get the chance to do. You groan before giving in.

"Make it quick."

Peter nods and lets go of your arm, trailing his eyes from your necklace down to your dress, the words spill from his mouth before you could even comprehend them.

"I love you." He breathes, and your heart drops to your stomach.

"Stop."

You try to walk away again, because your head was starting to hurt and you didn't have it in you to deal with Peter's bullshit.

"No, listen to me, just listen." Peter quickly shakes his head and steps in your way once more and you notice his heartbroken stare.

"I get that you hate me, I understand that you want nothing to do with me and you're with Miles, but I love you. It took me way too long to realize that, but I--I do." The brown haired boy runs a hand through his hair in frustration, you keep quiet to let him speak his mind.

You were long gone out of love with Peter Parker, the same boy who broke your heart on your birthday, because he was in love with someone else. He for some reason thinks it'd be a good idea to express his feelings at a school dance that you had gone with, with your boyfriend, that was not him.

The deju vu was eating through your body, you were wondering where the hell Miles was with that punch.

"It's too late to even tell you this, but thats why MJ broke up with me, not because I told her but I mean she's a perspective girl so...y'know." Peter shrugs in defeat as you nod slowly, your head still trying to digest his words.

"Peter, you're so stupid." You finally say and he blinks in utter confusion, but you continue anyway.

"You have no right to tell me you love me, months later and I mean months later. Because its unfair and it's selfish, you put me through hell and back, only to do it again once I find a little ounce of happiness." You ramble in anger, not knowing what else to say as you try to put all your thoughts into one simple breakdown for him.

"I know--"

"No, you don't." You cut him off quickly and held up a finger in his face. "Because if you knew like you claimed, you wouldn't had made it your life's mission to seek out attention from me or whatever the hell it is you're trying to do. I was happy for you and MJ, I grew to accept that, so why can't you do the same for me?"

Peter's face switch from confusion and hurt to a glaring look within seconds, and you almost regret your words.

"You told me you loved me while I was trying to meet ends with MJ, and now you're telling me I can't do the same? To the person who's wearing a birthday gift I gave her, around her boyfriend." He argues and sadly, he does have a point.

You were lost for words for a brief moment and Peter scoffs at your silence.

"That's not fair."

"No, if you throw the ball at me, I'm going to throw it back harder. You claim to not love me anymore but you wouldn't still be wearing that necklace if your feelings changed." Peter takes a step closer to you.

You're paralyzed, not having the energy to fight back as his words sink into your brain. He was so painfully right, you knew deep down no matter how hard you deluded yourself that there was still feelings there, and Peter was your first love, so you can't just completely shut him out of your life, no matter what the boy did or how bad he hurt you.

"I know that...but Peter I'm with someone else. Had you told me this before months ago, maybe things would be different, but you need to stop trying." You're sure these words hurt him more than they hurt you, but you were so sick and tired of the one feeling the rougher end of the stick.

Peter needed a taste of his own medicine anyway.

"Please, stop trying."

He nods his head in a silent bob, the tension simmering down from the screaming steam that loomed around the two of you.

Peter looked like a kicked dog, which kind of made you frown, but you knew better than anything to try and comfort him in the way he hoped you would.

"Okay."

"Okay?" You furrow your eyebrows at the one word after a few uncomfortable seconds of silence.

"Okay, I'll stop. I want you to be happy, and I shouldn't be the reason you're not." Peter slides his hand into yours and you feel the unsettling consolation within his touch, biting your bottom lip as you watch him sigh with a deflated smile.

"Just know that I do love you, even if you don't feel the same way anymore, I know deep down you do."

You didn't think you'd cry on prom night, but the tears had made an unannounced approach, you were just thankful that the mascara you had on was waterproof.

Quickly, you wipe your tears and nod your head with a clear of your throat and take a step back.

"I should go look for Miles." You gesture your thumb behind you to nowhere in particular, Peter's hand slip from yours for the very last time. He tilts his head and looks around the gym.

"Alright."

You had no idea of what to do, so you just stare at Peter for a moment as he stares at you.

This boy was truly the love of your life, you did everything together but sometimes not everyone is meant to be.

When he broke your heart on your birthday, you thought you would never find the kind of connection the two of you had again, and it ate at your heart. Peter had ripped it out, and held it in his hand, maliciously squeezing at it but not intending to, because he was as lost as you were, truly.

The two of you didn't know how to love, and that was evident. He thought he loved someone else, but he was wrong. Karma some might say, but you'd call it a life lesson for him. You on the other hand, didn't have any idea what you were doing. Miles wasn't a rebound from Peter, he was a saviour from him. Though not put so nicely, but Peter was an experience to learn from, to grow from and that's what you did.

From the break up, the who kissed who, and the lingering feelings he had for you, you all but hoped Peter would find someone who wasn't you, someone who loved him for him as he could love them for who they were.

You knew it wouldn't be you, and you were glad. Peter deserves happiness as much as you did.

Even if the two of you wouldn't end up hand in hand.

taglist: @clairebearfr @ietss

#peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you

237 notes · View notes

229zmi · 4 months

Text

ACADEMIC WEAPON

PAIRING: Bokuto Kōtarō/Reader

CONTENT: 4+1 things (4 times bokuto failed a quiz + the 1 time he passed), reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, reader tutors bokuto, bokuto requests the reader to shut the window on his head at one point, overuse of silly metaphors and similes #Sorry

WORD COUNT: 5.0k

(I.)

Bokuto was many things, but an academic weapon was certainly not one of them. Perhaps, he thought, an academic victim would be more fitting.

After all, marked by a large 7/100 circled in red pen for his surrounding deskmates to see (Thanks a lot, Mrs. Ishida!, he sulked), things were looking bleak for him. It was only a few days into the new term, yet he had already failed his first quiz; and honestly, he wasn’t sure if Akaashi’s biweekly tutoring sessions would be enough to pull him through the rest of the school year with a passing grade, especially with the volleyball summer camp coming up — it was all he could think about as of lately.

He needed a plan. Desperately.

“Desperately?”

Bokuto jolted in his seat. Ah, he must’ve let his internal monologue slip out again. That tended to happen a lot whenever he got too carried away in his pondering— got too in his head about something. Pouting for no particular reason, he hastened to answer Akaashi’s question with a nod before an idea suddenly materialised in his brain.

“Change your tutoring sessions to be weekly! Pretty please?” he added somewhat sheepishly, twiddling his fingers for the effect of what was supposed to be humbleness.

“Weekly?” Akaashi stared at him with a slow blink, taking a bite of his apple. He seemed to be thinking about it, which kindled a small flame of hope within Bokuto.

“Yeah! Or— or how about twice a week? Three times a week? Four—“

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for that,” he cut in with a dead expression, but at least his tone sounded sort of apologetic. But it was true: he was in the volleyball club and the literature club at school, and being a part of two clubs did take a considerable chunk of what would’ve been free time after school, hence why his tutoring sessions were scheduled so sparsely.

His eyes lingered on Bokuto’s hair, which was beginning to look deflated, and he was sure his best friend was about to enter one of his moods if he didn’t find some way to cheer him up.

“Bokuto-san,” he started, pausing for a moment to think again, “I know someone from literature club who might be willing to tutor you.”

Bokuto lifted the side of his head from off the table. A newfound hope miraculously found him and bled through his expression as he smiled and propelled himself closer to the black-haired boy as if he was listening in on some juicy yet confidential gossip, hitting the palms of his hands against the table with an embarrassingly loud slap that rang throughout the classroom.

“Really?!”

Akaashi nodded. “[L/n] [Y/n] from class 3-6 is one of the smartest people I know, and I heard they’ve been looking to make some money so—“

“I gotta go,” Bokuto quickly said. Watching him rush out the classroom, Akaashi had a feeling it wasn’t to the bathroom.

(i.)

Bokuto was many things. Shameless was one of them.

“I am looking for [Y/n]!”

Heads turned toward him, including yours, although your reaction was paired with creased eyebrows and a warmth in your face that felt a lot like embarrassment. You weren’t sure who he was to be shouting out your name like that in front of everyone, but whoever he was, you were livid. Even more so after hearing your classmates whisper among themselves, questioning if that strong-looking, handsome guy was your boyfriend and adding on that you didn’t seem like type to date.

“Is there a [Y/n] in this class?” No one spoke up, so he stepped back outside the classroom for a moment, checking the sign above the door to make sure this was the right class. Class 3-6, it read. He frowned. Maybe you had decided to spend your lunch period elsewhere.

Before he started to walk back to his classroom so he could complain to Akaashi about this unfortunate outcome, however, he felt a sharp yank against the collar of his shirt, pulling him backward and then up against the wall. He blinked, and a humourless face came into vision. Unsure of where to look, he settled for staring hard at the space in between the face’s furrowed eyebrows, wondering if this stranger was about to ask for his lunchbox or something like the bullies in stereotypical American high school movies.

“Name,” you demanded. Stunned by how you were acting like some kind of military drill sergeant, Bokuto could only keep staring. Eventually, he noticed the name tag on your blazer— [L/n] [Y/n], class 3-6!

He smiled. Just the person he was looking for.

You were growing impatient. Why was he smiling? Did he find your embarrassment funny? Tensely, you repeated, “What’s your name? Hellooo?”

“Bokuto Kōtarō, a friend of Akaashi Keiji!” he blurted out. “You know him, right? Black hair, blue eyes—“

“I know who that is.”

“Great! I have a favour to ask you.”

Awkwardly, he gestured for you to back up. You did so, albeit eyeing him sceptically as he proceeded to bow down, low enough to the point where the tips of his hair met the tiled floor. It was just your luck that a few of your classmates decided to leave the classroom at this moment, stopping when they noticed the scene before shuffling away. You heard them giggling to themselves yet again, probably ecstatic at having found another topic to gossip about.

“Get up, what the hell are you doing.” Gripping onto his broad shoulders, you frantically tried pulling him up to a normal standing position before any other witnesses could walk in on you and add on to your humiliation, but he didn’t budge.

“Hold on— please tutor me!”

“That wasn’t asking me a favour. Now, stand. Up.”

“I’m failing most of my classes, and the ones that I’m not, I’m barely passing by like a couple points! I’ll pay you and everything, just please— I really need someone to tutor me, and Akaashi said you were super duper smart and nice and cool and everything!”

“Get up. Please.” You couldn’t help sounding desperate by this point. “People are staring.”

Much to your annoyance, your words went through one of Bokuto’s ears and out the other, as if there was nothing in between.

“Can you tutor me? Please?”

“Alright, fine. But only if you stop bowing down to me.” You sighed and then stuck your hand out, holding your phone. “Give me your number. I’ll text you the dates and times I’ll be available.”

He shot right up and visibly brightened, his hair sticking up even more than before, like he’d just stuck a fork into an electrical outlet. You weren’t sure how that was logically possible, but whatever. “Of course! Here.”

After letting him type in his number, you added it as a contact.

“What’s your name again?” you asked.

“Bokuto Kōtarō.”

“Spell it for me.”

“Okay! B as in Bokuto. O as in Okuto. K as in Kuto…“

You shut your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose.

(II.)

bok:

hey……………..

ahaha

[image]

The image showed Bokuto’s most recent calculus quiz, tear-stained and appearing as if it was crumpled up but then flattened back out out of guilt. A red 7/100 was marked at the top.

[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor:

i am available after school tomorrow

we can meet up at the library if that’s ok

bok:

YIPPEE!!!!!!!!!!!!! thanks [y/n] :p

(ii.)

Bokuto was certain now as he stared aimlessly out the window that the universe was against him in some way and that time had purposely slowed down just to spite him. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful for your help — he couldn’t be more appreciative of the fact that you were taking the time out of your day to tutor him despite the two of you being strangers until recently — but after just an hour and a half of going over notes and countless practice worksheets, he was ready to stop, drop, and roll into bed.

Even Akaashi, as monotonous as he was, wasn’t this bad during tutoring. Plus, his sessions were biweekly, whereas and Bokuto had agreed on twice a week: Wednesdays and Fridays. This was only the third tutoring session with you.

“Hey,” your voice cut through his thoughts, and with a start, he realised you’d finally returned from your brief excursion to the restroom, “did you finish the homework?”

Like a giraffe or a particularly nosy next-door neighbour, you craned your neck over the table that separated you and the boy with the two-toned hair. With the backs of his ears stained vermillion, Bokuto immediately slammed his folded arms onto the table, shielding the contents of the paper from your line of sight.

“Yes,” he said stiffly. “I am— I did finish. The homework.”

Bokuto was many things. A good liar was not one of them.

You blinked, dumbfounded. “The fuck was that for?”

He roleplayed confusion by inclining his head to the side. His words came out light and airy, sounding as though he’d just sucked in helium. “What ever do you mean?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Perchance.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, no I don’t! I’ve got no clue what you’re saying.”

Your eyebrows pinched together as your eyes flitted between his mock-innocent expression and the worksheet peeking out from underneath his toned forearms, before lunging forward and grabbing onto the piece of paper when he least expected it.

However, Bokuto was a little quicker. With fast reflexes, he pressed down on the paper even more, now using more of his body weight to keep you from taking it away from him. You were suddenly reminded that the guy in front of you was not just some clown who was very bad at both integrals and remembering to bring a pencil, but a better-than-average athlete at the very least.

“The element of surprise,” he stated through a tight-lipped smile, “you’re good at that.”

“Let go,” you commanded, still trying to pry it from his arms.

“Why?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, I need to see it so I can check your answers and see how much progress you’ve made.” You paused for a moment. “And also ‘cause I don’t believe you. You were only on question two when I left, there’s no way you’re done.”

Bokuto gasped with a dramatic drop of his jaw. “After all we’ve been through?!”

He may as well have sounded an airhorn into a microphone, then proceeded to throw the microphone out a window. You rushed to shush him, placing an index finger on your lips with a look of disapproval across your features. “Quiet down. This is a library.”

He stuck his tongue out. “Bossy-pants.”

Your face soured like a pair of wet socks. What kind of playground insult was that?

“I am not,” you told him. “That was a perfectly reasonable request, not just for me but also for the other people around you, who would probably appreciate some peace and quiet around here.”

He laughed in your face. You swore you were going to pop a blood vessel at this rate.

“Wow, you would make a great librarian. Ever thought about working here?” Teasingly, he kicked your foot from under the table.

“Don’t do that.” You physically recoiled at the smug grin that settled on his face. Not knowing how else to retaliate, you settled for a simple, “Shut up,” which really wasn’t any better, but once more, you’d realised that too late after the words fully left your mouth.

“I didn’t say anything!” Bokuto protested.

“I don’t care. Now, let go of the paper.”

“Only if you say pretty please.” He tilted his chin up defiantly in a way that, although perhaps unintentional for the most part, effectively grated on your nerves. You glowered at him, but before you could say anything else, you first heard a faint rip, and after one more particularly harsh tug, you found yourself flung backwards into your chair all of a sudden, which then tipped over and toppled onto the ground along with you.

You winced, feeling the immediate stinging pain subside to a dull ache in your back.

“Oh,” Bokuto said, before tentatively creeping over to you. All humour in his voice and face vanished without a trace. “You okay?”

Your face felt hot, though you weren’t sure if it was from frustration or embarrassment or a secret third thing as you stared up at his hand that was outstretched to you. Ignoring it, you pushed yourself up and then stared down at the paper in your hand— or rather, the half that was still there. The other half laid on the table. Crumpled up.

You sucked in a huge breath of air. Of course, only two out of ten problems on the homework assignment was done, and the rest were left blank. You’d be less upset if he had at least tried. Was he even taking this seriously?

“I think we are done for today.”

(III.)

“Oh, he hates me for sure. I just know it.”

Akaashi couldn’t see the point of this conversation.

“You’re telling me this because…?”

With restrained effort, you whacked the back of his head with a rolled up notebook, yet he barely even appeared fazed, like this was a normal occurrence in your friendship. (It was.)

“‘Cause you’re, like, his best friend in the whole wide world, and I need your advice, dingus,” you complained. “He even introduced himself as Bokuto, a friend of Akaashi Keiji.”

“Of course he did,” Akaashi muttered, somewhat amused by your poorly done impression of his best friend’s voice. He placed a hand on his chin to contemplate. “If you really want to know what I think about you and him, I don’t believe last Friday was as horrible as you think it was. He called me and told me all about it on his way home.”

Suddenly, you grabbed him by the shoulders. Taken aback, he stared up at you with the typical unsettling, blue-eyed gaze, just a little more wide-eyed than usual.

“What did he say?” This was serious business — you had to know.

“Nothing too bad,” he quickly answered, patting your arm as if you were some wild animal to be tamed. “Said you were kind of boring and went through some of the topics too fast, but he appreciated your efforts. He also felt bad for lying to you and for calling you bossy, even though you were— his words, not mine.”

“I am not bossy,” you said haughtily.

Akaashi rolled his eyes, then smiled. “That’s some defense you got there.”

“No, really. He’s totally being dramatic!”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that. Or, even better, you talk to him yourself.”

“No way!” You buried your face into your hands.

“I already told you, Bokuto doesn’t hate you at all. Just… try being a little more understanding next time you see him.” He motioned his hands vaguely, trying to further explain his point. “Nicer, you know? But” — you sensed that what came next would be a big but — “still be yourself. Don’t want you frying your brain over trying to act like someone else. Okay?”

You dismissed his advice with a wave of your hand. Now he sounded too much like a school counsellor for your liking. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

Just as the teacher walked in and Akaashi left to return to his classroom, your phone pinged. You glanced down to see what it was.

No surprise it was a text from Bokuto.

bok:

[image]

failed my calc quiz :(( again :(((

There was a circled 3/100 in red ink in the upper right corner of the paper.

Unable to contain a scoff of disbelief, you weren’t even sure how it was possible. Nonetheless, you began to type out a response, something along the lines of a dry ‘ok’ followed by a specific time for you to meet up, but then Akaashi’s wise words of wisdom rang through your mind.

[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor:

does 5pm this wednesday work for u?! ^-^

Typing that almost physically hurt you, but you persisted regardless like the brave soldier you were.

bok:

??? YEAHHH

[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor:

alright!!!! see u then!!!! :))))

[bok liked your message.]

(iii.)

There was something off about you. Bokuto could tell, though he couldn’t quite place a finger on it.

He thought maybe it was the stress of the upcoming volleyball summer camp that was making him see things he wasn’t actually seeing. Or maybe you had changed up your appearance a bit today. But as he observed you while you were explaining a homework problem he was particularly stuck on, you looked the same. Still you, except… brighter? You looked like you were in a better mood today and, actually, this past week now that he thought about it, recalling your texts.

You were nicer, that’s what it was. Or it was more that you seemed more engaged in today’s tutoring session than you had in all three of the previous ones. From the start, you’d sat down next to him, instead of across from him on the opposite side of the table. You went through each topic much more thoroughly, refusing to move on until he fully understood the material, which you made sure of by asking him questions every now and then. And, he swore, you were even smiling a little whenever he got an answer correct on his own.

It was almost uncanny, he mused to himself.

“What is?”

He snapped back to reality. “Huh?”

“You said something was ‘almost uncanny,’” you told him, eyeing him strangely.

Shit, he had spoken his internal monologue out loud yet again. And he’d been staring at you like a mindless animal for an exceedingly long time now without realising.

“Oh, don’t worry, I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Okay.”

Shaking his head at himself, he slouched over the table in an attempt to focus on his homework. After a beat, he scribbled something down, then pursed his lips as he slid his paper over to you, indicating to you that there was one thing he was either stuck on or unsure about. “Is this right?”

Wordlessly, you glanced down at his answer, and after scanning through his work to make sure it wasn’t a thing of luck, you nodded. Bokuto fist-pumped the air, although his ecstasy wasn’t just because he had gotten the answer right yet again (he was currently on a streak of six-in-a-row— the highest yet!). Rather, he found himself looking to you in the corner of his eye with hopes to catch your reaction, and there it was again: both outer edges of your mouth curled to form what he could confidently say was a smile. A small one, but it was there nevertheless.

Then, you did something else, another thing he wasn’t expecting at all: you began to grovel to him for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry for being kind of mean to you,” you mumbled.

Okay. Maybe, that was an exaggeration (a really, really extreme one). But the effect it had on him was still as explosive as if you actually were grovelling at his feet for forgiveness.

“WHAAAAT?”

A scowl made its way to your face for the first time today. “Can you not act so surprised?”

“It’s not acting if I really am surprised,” he said with a defensive tone, placing a hand on his chest. “Plus, I’d never lie to you like that… except maybe that one time. Sorry.”

“I don’t think you need to apologise for that. You weren’t very convincing anyway.”

“What do you mean? I totally had you fooled!”

“You did not.”

“I did!” Somewhere else in the library, the librarian shushed the both of you, sending weak glares in your direction. Mindful of their warning, Bokuto quieted to a stage-whisper. “If that paper hadn’t ripped, you would’ve never found out the truth.”

“Ha! In your dreams, yeah.” You rolled your eyes before begrudgingly admitting, “But while we’re still on the topic of apologies, I guess I am also sorry for being kind of overbearing. I will work on that bad habit in the future.”

“Kind of?” he echoed. There was a hint of amusement in his voice. “You sure?”

“Yes.” You shot him a glare, and he put his hands up in mock-defense.

“Hey, hey, hey, I was just asking. I forgive you and all. But for the record,” Bokuto grinned, sharp canines poking out a bit, “I like that about you anyways.”

(IV.)

bokuto:

FAILED AGAIN

BUT!!!!!!

[image]

46!!!!!! DOUBLE DIGITS!!!!!!

[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor:

revolutionary

see u tomorrow

bokuto:

CAN’T WAIT :D

(iv.)

Bokuto was dreading this next exam. It was a big one, for sure, as it was the last opportunity he had to raise his currently failing grade up to passing standard before summer break, which was slowly yet surely inching its way toward the present. With the volleyball summer camp just a week and a half away, his odds weren’t looking very high, and he wasn’t sure if even yours and Akaashi’s combined tutoring efforts would be able to save him.

“I can’t do this.” He dropped his pencil on the table and groaned in frustration, leaning back in his chair with a dejected expression directed toward the ceiling. Nothing was making sense anymore. “Can you please open the window?”

Puzzled, you furrowed your eyebrows. “Why? Do you need some fresh air?”

“No, I’m gonna stick my big, stupid head out the window, and then you can do me a favour and close it.”

“Oh! Okay.”

Logically, you decided not to do that. Instead, you grabbed one of the soft-cover workbooks laid across the table, rolled it up as Bokuto watched you curiously, and—

Thwack!

Rubbing the back of his head, Bokuto sat up straight. If you placed his back and a ruler next to each other, you wouldn’t know the difference. “What’d you do that for?”

“Did that hurt?”

“Not really.” His gaze averted between you and the book and then you again and the book again, bewildered. “But what’d you do that for? Fun?”

“No, it was because you sound totally lame right now and it’s pissing me off. Get a fucking grip on yourself. You’re not stupid, so don’t say that you are. You’re gonna ace this test and you’re gonna ace whatever sports thing you got coming up.”

“Volleyball summer camp,” he said wistfully. There were stars sparkling in his eyes now, a stark contrast to his lifeless look seconds prior, leading you to believe that you’ll have a chance at becoming a motivational speaker or something of the like in the near future.

“Yeah, that. You— you can do this. You got this. Go you or whatever.” Yeah, scratch that option. Suddenly feeling awkward, you grimaced. Maybe it was time you just stop talking. “Never mind. Keep studying.”

“Okay.” He picked up the pencil but not before sparing you one last glance and blinking rapidly for a few seconds, wondering if he was seeing things when pink hearts started to hover around your face with a dream-like, white vignette and a romantic tune began flooding his ears. “Yeah, I think I am gonna ace this test.”

(V.)

“They whacked me with a book, Akaashi.”

Akaashi couldn’t see the point of this conversation. He tended to feel that way a lot, actually, but it was a phenomenon occurring more than usual as of lately, and he had a feeling it had something to do with two of his friends spending more time with each other over these past couple of weeks. Huh, he wondered why.

“Yeah, they do that,” he said, turning the page as his eyes glided over the words. This was like a kindergartener tattling to their teacher about something a classmate did to offend them, at least in the eyes of Akaashi. Certainly, he felt like an under-compensated, stressed-out adult at the moment.

“So how do you not fall in love every time?”

Akaashi froze. Was he hearing things right?

Before he could process his upperclassman’s words, however, a sense of déjà vu washed over him as Bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders all of a sudden, donning a serious look now.

“I’m going to ask you one thing. A favour as one of my best friends in the whole wide world.”

He shut the book he was reading and set it to the side, seeing how important this seemed to Bokuto. “Okay. What is it?”

“Don’t tell [Y/n] I passed my exam. They have to think that I failed.”

With an arch in one of his eyebrows, Akaashi attempted to not sound so shocked. “You passed your test?”

“I did. 72 out of 100!” A wide grin spread across Bokuto’s face.

“That’s great news,” Akaashi replied. “Why wouldn’t you want [Y/n] to know about that? Surely, they’d be happy for you.”

“Because. If they find out I did well on my test, then that means I won’t need their help anymore and I won’t get to spend time with them anymore. And I don’t want that to happen ‘cause I like spending time with them.”

Oh, jeez. “That’s not that how that works.”

“Okay, Mr. Smart Guy, tell me how it works then.”

“No.” Akaashi reopened his book as if to seem disinterested in the topic at hand, even though he actually was and he wasn’t really reading at all by this point. “Just ask them to hang out instead asking me to lie to their face on your behalf.”

“I’m not asking you to lie, I’m just. Well. I don’t know,” Bokuto finally admitted sheepishly, fiddling with the end of his sleeve as he pouted. After several moments of well-needed silence, he pondered out loud, “Should I text them?”

“Yes.”

Pulling out his phone from his pocket, Bokuto smiled. “You’re a great friend, Akaashi. Thanks for the advice!”

bokuto:

hey! let’s hang out this weekend!!!!

i meannnnnn at the library

at our usual time not the weekend ahahah

sorry

typo

that first text was a typo

[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor:

you failed your test?

bokuto:

yYeahhhhhh

[[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor reacted ‘?’ to your message.]

(v.)

“You seem.” You observed his face suspiciously as you pulled out a notebook from your backpack. “Happy.”

“Aren’t I always happy?” For proof, he gave you the largest smile you’d ever seen in your life and leaned in close until your noses were touching. “See? This is my resting face like all the time.”

With how close he was, you settled on staring at a faint freckle above his left eyebrow, hoping that didn’t make you look cross-eyed. “Yeah, you’re just a bundle of joy. But I assumed you would be a little down considering you recently failed not just a quiz but a big exam. You won’t be able to go to that summer camp. Wasn’t that the whole point of me tutoring you?”

He shrugged, pulling himself away. “Life happens. Things happen. But I am a changed man, and I will no longer let such minister things disappoint me.”

“Minuscule things.”

“I said that. Mini-stool.”

You shook your head. Some things, you’d learned, were better to just leave as is.

But then there was a certain point where you couldn’t just not pester him about it. That point came after noticing he was answering all your questions right and breezing through the review sheets with ease. You couldn’t understand how he had failed his last exam when he was doing so well right now, same topics and everything.

A frown seeped into your expression as you stared at his work. “You… you already know everything. What if your teacher graded your test wrong? Or misplaced it with someone else’s. Because there’s no way you—”

“No, I don’t think so,” he interrupted you with a nervous laugh, sounding strained while looking everywhere but you. You side-eyed him upon being interrupted but continuing doing so as he wasn’t really acting like his usual self, as much as he wanted to insist otherwise. Weird. “I bombed that test. Trust me. Maybe you’re just my lucky charm or something.”

“What.”

He ignored your skepticism, seemingly too caught up in his head. “Maybe you should spend time with me more often so then maybe your luck can rub off on me. Maybe you should start coming to my volleyball practices. Maybe we should start hanging out over the weekends. Summer break is almost here, maybe we—“

“Bokuto Kōtarō.”

He glanced over at you — crossing your arms over your chest and clearly not believing him — and immediately threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “Okay, I lied. I passed with a 72%.”

“I figured.”

“You knew all along?!”

“No. But I could tell you weren’t telling the truth ‘cause you’re a horrible liar,” you explained as he pouted. “It gives me second-hand embarrassment seeing you look all constipated like that whenever you try to lie. Please never do that again.”

“I’m sorry. I just thought you wouldn’t wanna tutor me anymore if I told you,” he admitted. “I like hanging out with you, even if it’s just to do schoolwork. I don’t want that to end since we never really talk outside of these tutoring sessions.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you said definitively.

“So cruel of you to say only that after I poured my heart out to you!”

Despite you hovering a hand over your mouth to conceal it, your laughter still saturated the air; Bokuto took in every ounce.

“I wouldn’t toss you to the curb like that,” you reassured him. “These tutoring sessions can continue until we graduate for all I care. And if you want, over summer break whenever you’re free, we can go to the movies or a café or wherever, really.”

He perked up at this. “Really?”

“Really.” You picked at the dead skin around your fingernails offhandedly. “And honestly? I like spending time with you, too, so it doesn’t matter what it is that we do. You are paying, though, if we go to a place that wants our money, since you promised to pay me back when you first asked me to tutor you.”

Bokuto was okay with that. Your presence alone was enough to make him feel over the moon like a billionaire anyway.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #bokuto x reader #bokuto fluff #bokuto x y/n #229ZMI

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koorminii · 2 years

Text

COLLEGESLUTS.COM — IDEA 686 | HHJ

Part one of the CSC series. You can find this series’ masterpost here. This can be read as a stand-alone, but you may have questions that will be answered in future installations. Keep in mind this is the intro.

There are three things you hate more than anything: 1. Your english Lit. professor, 2. Frat parties, and last but most definitely not least, 3. CollegeSluts.com and their founders. There are three things Hyunjin hates more than anything: 1. College, 2. Back alley blowjobs, and 3. The frustrating desire to fuck you silly.

PAIRING: hyunjin x f!reader

GENRE: enemies to lovers; smut; crack; angst; college au

WC: 17k…. fear me! (also broke my record!!)

WARNINGS: reader is going through it and will continue to go through it. there’s no development for them at all in this installment i apologize (😭) reader calls skz sex-crazed demons, she’s very confused but not irrational, there’s not many warnings besides for the smut— profanity, alcohol consumption, mentions of alcoholism, annoying characters, insanely inexperienced reader, bet making, one-sided hatred, hyunjin wants to figure you out & thank god for that otherwise this series wouldn’t exist, sexual tension bottled up as hate bc yn is stupid. virgin/corruption kink, loss of virginity, overstimulation, dirty talking, unprotected sex…, creampie, fingering, pussy eating, teasing, breast play, and i think that’s it…

A/N: hi angels, i finished this in three days somehow and even though i didn’t plan on this being my post for 400, we hit it recently so this is it! and it’s fitting since a lot of people are waiting for this series <3 I hope you enjoy the first installment, feel free to share your thoughts in the comments, my ask box, or in a reblog! & lmk if you want to be added to the taglist for this fic or my permanent one which is linked below! i hate writing the introduction to a fic and if you feel like this entire one-shot is pointless i promise it’s not 😭 there’s a lot of drama to come soon but i had to establish some things first!

i managed to make a playlist for this series! please enjoy 👩🏾‍💻

mlist; taglist; navi; | ⇦ previous | next ⇨

There are three things you hate more than anything.

Your english lit. professor

Frat parties

last, but most definitely not least, collegesluts. com and it’s founders.

It’s the literal bane of your existence, the reason why it’s so hard for you to sleep at night, and the one thing that makes your skin itch even more than the fuzzy sweaters your grandma knits every winter season.

Maybe if the creator of the site wasn’t such a douchebag, and maybe if the site users weren’t even worse, you wouldn’t abhor it as much as you did. But that’s a lot of maybes— ones that create a reality much different than your own and don’t make you feel much better.

You were first introduced to the hellsite in your second year of college— only made a year before. After you found out, age twenty hanging high over your head and no longer a fresh face in the school system, you’d tried and failed to get it shut down. Multiple times.

Happy, carefree people, would just ignore its existence— get on with their life, allow people to be college sluts in peace, but you couldn’t do that. Only you saw it for what it was, right? A sex site for college-goers to ruin their lives before it even started. Everyone else was too blissed out, a hand shoved in their pants every night as they watched their classmates fuck each other without fail. Only you could really see—

“Hello, can you hear!?”

Your eyebrows furrow at the voice behind you and your shoulders tighten when a finger pokes harshly at your skin.

“What?” You groan, rubbing the section of your arm that was unjustly abused. “Can you just be nice like a normal person?”

“Well, you’re an asshole so why would I be nice to you?”

“Fuck off Seungmin. What do you want?”

The only thing that betrays the fact that he heard you at all is the laugh that echoes behind you. Your chest tightens in response, and you fold your arms over your chest.

Kim Seungmin. A close fourth on your list of things you hate more than anything else. He was one of the users on the-site-that-must-not-be-named. A platinum member actually, a fact that always made your skin burn even in the coldest of weather. He was even friends with the site creators, and you wouldn’t doubt he had a hand in making it completely. He’d never been shy in supporting his use of the site, because nowadays regular cam sites were somehow uncool. He even had shirts with the college sluts logo in big, bold, letters. He was a part of one of the things you couldn’t stand. A big part of it even, but you ignored all that so you could call him your best— and one of your only— friends.

Kim Seungmin is first on the things you love, and that automatically removes him from the list of things you hate. When an arm slings itself across your shoulders you barely react, simply steering you both in the direction of your first class. It’s too early to deal with your best friend, and especially his toothy remarks and sarcasm, but you don’t say so and simply allow him to talk your ear off while you concern yourself with more important things.

Things like Hwang Hyunjin and Christopher Bang. The admins of College Sluts and the cause of the twitch in your brow. Sometimes the amount of hatred you felt for the two amazed you. To others, they were college boys— hotter than most, smart, talented, promiscuous. They had a good personality, a future, and were people a lot of other people got along with (and their other friends but you won’t get into that lest you pop a vessel).

To you, it’s agree to disagree. In short, they’ve got everyone totally fooled. Only sex-crazed low lifes actually managed to create a porn site. It’s one thing to think of it, sprawled around their dorm rooms knocked off their ass and barely sober, but it’s another thing to actually do it— work hard on it, execute such ideas— it’s completely baffling to you. How can no one see how perverted that is? You don’t even know what to call it, but the fire that erupts in your gut is enough to tell you that it’s bad.

There’s a bunch of girls and guys crowding around them, laughing and hugging and touching. Touching as if they were in the privacy of their home and not outside where others could see. It makes your chest heat up, and makes weird maggots swallow up your stomach, leaving a tingly feeling in its wake. You hate it. They’re demons. Sex-crazed demons.

“God, I’m starting to think you’re like anti-sex or something.”

You grunt.

“Literally we’re just walking by and you look like you’re contemplating murder.”

You hum.

“Jesus,” Seungmin sighs, shaking his head before waving over at his friends. More like his sinner acquaintances. Don’t get it wrong, you’re not overly religious or particularly shameful— despite how you might seem— but it’s something about that entire group (Seungmin sometimes included) that makes you feel like breaking something. Choking something? Crying? Screaming? You’re not sure anymore.

When you catch Hyunjin’s eye he smirks and you frown. Just the sight of him is enough to make your head hurt and your knees weak. At least, that makes sense to you. The rest of the student body? Not so much.

You hoist your bag up on your shoulder and tear your gaze away from him. Your building isn’t much farther and if you squint really hard you can pretend you don’t see Hyunjin approaching from the corner of your eye. It’s a hot day and when he sidles up to you, shoulders almost touching, it gets much hotter.

“Hey,” he greets, slapping palms with Seungmin and holding one down low for you. Your hand hesitates, almost greeting him in return before you slap his arm and send a glare his way.

“Bye,” you grit, turning your head away from him and grabbing at Seungmin’s arm. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Loosen up!” He calls, his long legs easily catching up to your fast pace. “I just wanted to say hi to my favorite girl.”

Your breath stutters the tiniest bit but you ignore it, not bothering to grant that remark an answer. Hyunjin is flirty. Too flirty. Stupid flirty. The kind of flirty that gets girls like you all riled up even when you’re supposed to be hating him, even when you’re supposed to curse the very ground he walks on, and it just makes the dreadful maggots in your system start up their annoying fluttering.

Seungmin doesn’t say anything, even when your grip on his arm tightens at a painful rate. You will your heart to stop beating so damn hard and for your entire body to stop reacting so easily to him. You don’t even know him so why does he hold so much influence over you? Someone like him? Someone who spends their time and their intelligence on a haphazard college porn site? No. No way.

“What do you want, Hyunjin?”

The devil with the long brown hair, and soft cheeks, and cute dimples takes the chance to lean close to your ear, making sure you hear whatever it is he has to say.

“Don’t be too mad at me, bug. I just wanted to tell you that you look gorgeous today.” Hyunjin pats your cheek, smiling before he leans away, turning back the way he came.

“See you later.”

And that’s that. The sex demon comes to set your cheeks ablaze and leaves once he’s done, letting you deal with your muddled feelings on your own. Once you start walking again, ignoring the stare boring into your cheeks and the confusing pounding of your heart, there’s only three words on your mind.

Fuck Hwang Hyunjin.

There are three things Hyunjin hates more than anything:

1. College

2. Back alley blowjobs

3. The frustratingly clear desire he has to fuck you silly.

Hyunjin isn’t sure when he realized it exactly. He doesn’t even know why he reacts to you so strongly. If you were anyone else he probably wouldn’t give you a second glance. He’s sure of it. Maybe it’s the desire to want something you can’t have, or the fact that you aren’t groveling at his feet.

It’s not like Hyunjin has any idea of why exactly you’re so hellbent on hating his guts, nor does he really care all that much. So you don’t like College Sluts, that’s your right as is anyone else’s, but it’s not like he’s shoving the damn shit in your face. He minds his business, manages his porn site, and does it all with a smile on his face. You, though? It’s a miracle he’s seen you smile once. And that was when he wasn’t paying attention and knocked into someone carrying a full tray of food.

Chan laughs at him all the time and so does Minho, wondering if he has some weird kink for wanting people who clearly don’t want him back, but more and more he’s thinking that isn’t the case. He’s always been bold, always been a bit flirty even when he wasn’t trying, and he knows he’s easy on the eyes. It’s not a secret, but your reaction to him isn’t one of disdain or clear attraction, but rather confusion, and that confuses him.

He flips the mic in his hands, switching between cradling it and flinging it every which way. The speakers of the karaoke system effectively drag him from his thoughts as the music gets louder and Jisung spins Felix around on their makeshift stage. Whoops and hollers echo from around them, the rest of their friends cheering at the performance in front of them. Hyunjin can’t bring himself to laugh even as a smile threatens to take hold of his features.

“Yo, what’s up with you?” Jisung plops down beside him, slinging an arm around Hyunjin's shoulders as puffs of breath leave his lips. “You’ve been sitting here brooding. What’s going on?”

“I don’t brood,” Hyunjin argues, though he maneuvers his body so he can tell Jisung exactly what has him brooding. “It’s just— I’m still thinking about Y/n.”

“Bro.”

“It doesn’t seem weird to you?”

“Weird that she’s just not interested? This is a new low, Hyunjin. Not everyone is gonna be attracted to you—”

“I know, but that’s not what I’m saying. Doesn’t her whole attitude towards us seem a bit excessive? All over a website.”

“It’s not your typical website.”

“Sung, it’s probably one of the safest porn sites out there because of how exclusive it is. No one but students here can get on it.”

“Does she know that?”

“That’s my point,” Hyunjin sighs, running a hand through his hair before starting again. “If she doesn’t even know the full details of the site, how can she possibly hate it? Hate us?”

Jisung pauses, looking back towards the stage. It’s true that all eight of them have thought about this at least once. They know there’s people who hate the website, who steer clear of it in all instances, but none who have made petitions and gone to the superintendent requesting an audience about it. No one who’s actively been so hateful to them specifically, refusing to look in their direction unless it’s to send a glare their way.

“Maybe there's another reason?” Jisung offers, sending Hyunjin a sideways glance. “I mean, maybe she just hates porn.”

Hyunjin snorts at that. How can anyone hate porn?

“You’re laughing but I’m dead serious. Has she ever even had a partner?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“You think about her 24/7. I wouldn't be surprised if you knew what she ate for breakfast.”

“Not fucking funny.”

Jisung barks out a laugh, falling over into Hyunjin’s space. “Don’t worry, you’ll get over it soon.”

Hyunjin isn’t so sure but he nods anyway, allowing Jisung to go back to the stage for the next song. Hyunjin knocks back his drink, throat constricting barely at the bitter taste. He doesn’t care. He really doesn’t, but there’s something weird about your behavior and he’s more than determined to figure it out. Maybe he needs to just mind his business but fuck that, he thinks, no one is gonna hate him for no reason. Maybe he’s a little too riled up at that, maybe Jisung is right and this is a new low. Maybe he just really can’t deal with rejection well. Maybe.

Minho’s screeching into the mic does it’s hardest to ruin Hyunjin’s night, but the way the rest of his friends tackle him and attempt to steal the mic just makes him laugh, leaving a warm feeling in his chest. This is all he needs— his friends and a good drink to put a smile on his face. And the college porn site he worked very hard on, of course.

The group only gets through a few more songs before they decide to leave, deciding to ignore the fact that some of them have classes in six hours or that they’ll be nursing a bad headache for the entirety of it. Hyunjin is one of them. He laughs along with his friends as they walk, and he watches them from where he stands in the back.

Jisung has his phone out and is making a concerned face, typing furiously on the device. Either they’re having technical issues or his girlfriend is getting on his ass once again. Minho has an arm slung around his shoulders, laughing at whatever it is he’s typing and whoever it is that’s typing back. Next to them Felix and Jeongin have joined hands and Felix swings them back and forth, giggling as he does. Jeongin pretends he doesn’t like it, like usual, but Hyunjin notices the hint of a smile on his face. He always notices.

Chan and Changbin are quiet on either side of him, walking in the tranquil quiet that’s always rare for their group. It feels incomplete— Hyunjin wishes Seungmin could’ve come. He doesn’t know how the boy manages to be friends with the creators of the CSC and also be friends with its #1 hater. Maybe he’s selling secrets, telling you everything about the site, all its loopholes and glitches. Maybe he’s working against them now, coming up with a plan to shut them down once and for all, though Hyunjin doesn’t know if that’s possible.

Right after those thoughts trickle into his mind, he thinks about Seungmin wearing the handmade “merch” for the site, and doesn’t entertain them any longer. It would be ridiculous— even for him— to think that someone who repped college sluts like it was their brand would ever work even harder to tear it away.

The knot in his throat that’s been squeezing at his airways since earlier that night relaxes just a little. He’s never actually said this to anyone, but just as much as he thinks about why you hate him, he thinks about whether Seungmin will hate him too; about if he’ll lose a friend due to reasons he’s not even sure of. As much as he thinks about why you hate him so badly, he thinks about why he doesn’t hate you right back. He wonders why he— instead of wanting nothing to do with you— wants to know everything about you. Why he wants to understand you when you’ve made no effort to understand him, or worse, made up your own mind about who he is without even attempting to entertain the idea that maybe you’re wrong.

Hyunjin has lived his whole life suffering from other people's ideas of him, from their expectations that they held with no prior consultation with him, from the perfect picture of him in their minds that didn’t correlate with the real Hyunjin. He’s had his fair share of wondering, thinking, wanting. And it’s disappointing to see how even after all this time, since childhood, nothing has changed. He’s always wanted what he’s not allowed to have, but it’s not for lack of trying.

They don’t arrive at their frat house quick enough. As soon as the door opens into the building Hyunjin feels like falling asleep on the couch. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he’s also not sure what last happened on that couch. Between spilled drinks and sex that was too rushed to even make it to a bedroom he’d rather take his chances on an actual bed. Chan doesn’t bother to turn the lights on when he comes in, and the seven of them shuffle around each other, spilling into the living room or into the kitchen to grab drinks and snacks as if they didn’t just come back from eating.

Hyunjin knows he’s been distant all night but he can’t be bothered to care as he sends a quick good night his friends’ way and makes his way upstairs. The house holds eight other boys besides them and he’s surprised none of them are downstairs or hanging around even at the late hour. Though, Hyunjin reasons, most of them have girlfriends and the few others that don’t are seniors and probably pull all-nighters in the library or some shit.

Hyunjin doesn’t want to think about that. The year only started back up again a few months ago, he doesn’t need to be thinking about work anymore than he already does. He makes a good living even without a real job, so he’s taking shit day by day. It’s not like anyone else is much different. Most of his seniors are cramming because they were so carefree. Hyunjin doesn’t think about the implications of that either.

The softness of his bed is long overdue and his body sinks into the plush bedding. He strips off his shirt and pants, not bothering to make his way to a shower or put pajamas on or do anything really. He has five hours before he needs to wake back up and this is nothing if not a power nap that won’t help him get through any lectures the next day. Or, later that day rather.

Hyunjin doesn’t concern himself with that though, because there’s only one thing that’s on his mind when he falls asleep and when he wakes up, and that’s what he’s going to say to you tomorrow morning in the first class of the day.

The first thing you manage to think of when you wake up is how best you’re going to ignore Hyunjin today. You’ve been brainstorming, wondering which response will humble him the best, maybe make him speechless for long enough that you can get away. If only those getaways could last forever, you sigh, pulling a fitted tee over your head. It’s low-cut, makes your cleavage pop just a little bit more, and you add a necklace for that exact reason.

You’re not the sex-crazed demon that the CSC most definitely are, but you do like a little attention every now and again even if you don’t get that much action. Or any, really, and you’re just fine with that. It’s one of the reasons why you don’t like the CSC. There’s no reason to sexify everything, and that’s exactly what they do. People can get by just fine without it.

Just fine? Seungmin would probably jab, but he’s not here right now and he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You are just fine, but the mention of the-site-that-must-not-be-named just fills your stomach with stones and ignites your nerves like nothing else does. To you, that’s more than enough proof that it’s the CSC’s fault— not yours.

Anyway, today is the day you have to see Hyunjin bright and early, which always manages to set your day off to a bad start. No one should have to deal with him at this time of day, or any time of day, and you pity the ones that do. Seeing Chan isn’t rare, but he doesn’t talk to you like Hyunjin does. He stares every now and again, gives you a lazy smirk, and is generally sexy as much as it pains you to admit it, but he doesn’t bother you. Though you know he probably talks about you. His stares are too knowing, way too insightful even when you don’t really know each other.

The rest of the boys you’ve talked to on a few occasions. They aren’t as insufferable, but they are associated with Hyunjin and Chan and are, in fact, involved in the upkeep of the-site-that-must-not-be-named. To you, that’s more than enough reason to at the least dislike them. You don’t hold soft spots for any of them, except maybe Felix who seems way too sweet to be a sex demon, but then again, it’s always the nice ones.

Besides, it doesn’t matter what they say to you or don’t say, or if they look at you or not, or if they even know you exist. It really doesn’t matter. You shake the thoughts from your head vigorously, ashamed at the fact that you spent the first hour of your morning on them. It’s unbecoming of you. It’s good to remind yourself not to actively concern yourself with any of them, and simply fight for the site’s demolition like you’ve been doing.

Seungmin says you have no life, but Seungmin also wears T-shirts with cartoonish, glittery pink boobs and the site’s name in glittery cursive letters. You don’t think Seungmin should have an opinion.

The last time you attempted to do anything about the site was roughly two months ago, a month after school started back. You took your time to settle in, fall into a routine, and get your work and classes in order before resuming your mission. It was arduous, brainstorming and juggling school work, but it was your responsibility since no one else would work hard enough.

A quick shuffle through any of your things would tell people you were a perfectionist— articulate in your placement of items and the way you did things. Even taking the time to plan certain outings to a T, determined to make sure everything goes well. It’s not a secret how obsessive you get over things and how uncomfortable or incomplete you feel when things don’t go your way, when you have to follow someone else’s idea of how things should work. It’s the reason why most people don’t get along with you because to them you’re too controlling, too compulsive and dominating.

When you were a child that fact had bothered you. It was confusing— that was just your nature, and you wouldn’t have survived your childhood without it based on the way your parents lived. When kids would shun you, treat you like something sticky at the bottom of their shoe, it hurt your young heart. You felt apologetic simply for acting the way you always felt like you should act, for doing the things that left you satisfied after. Now, in college, no one demands classmates to get along, no one can shun you in the cafeteria and force you to eat in the library. If they don’t like you it’s fine with you, frankly it doesn’t matter. You have one goal and one goal only, and once that’s over with you can move on.

When you step out of your dorm the sun is blinding, shining down with unforgiving rays of light. All you can do is squint, tilt your head down a little and wish you had a hat. The walk to the Art’s building is long, but feels longer with how warm it is. The heat shimmies its way under your clothes and into your skin, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes.

The scenery on the walk there is always breathtaking though, the pavement that makes up the pathway to the building is closed in by blades of grass that have been cut and trimmed to perfection. Rocks make up the border between them— large smooth stones that vary in size but are more or less the same oval shape. There’s an entire garden full of all types of flowers, Gardenias, Lilies, Irises, Tulips, and even some you can’t name. At the entrance of the building there are bright lights that illuminate at least 25 feet in front of it at night, and wide hedges that have been designed to look like swans, their necks curved in a way that if they were moved next to each other they’d be forming a heart. White flowers grow inside the hedges serving to make the entire scene look more beautiful, and as much as you hate walking there, the view is unmatched.

The Art building has always been your safe haven, Art in general being your home away from home. It took a long time for you to feel comfortable studying it— always caught up in the what if. What if you can’t make a living from it? What if you end up not liking it as you grow older? What if it’s not a sustainable career? Questions that still plague you often, and stop you from putting as much of your heart in it as you’d wish. These classes are somewhat self-indulgent. A way for you to escape from the hectic mess that is your life, away from the stress of work, from the anxiety of what comes next, and from the infuriating instances that continue without your control— away from the things you can’t control so you can run to things you can. So imagine your horror when you found out Hwang Hyunjin was in the same class as you. At the same time. Doing the same thing.

It felt like your escape wasn’t yours anymore, and that the stress from your day followed you everywhere you went. It wasn’t enough for Hyunjin to pester you often— he had to be everywhere you were too.

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves, setting your shoulders and regain the poise you take pride in– carrying yourself with the confidence you wish you had. It doesn’t take long for you to make your way to the entrance of the building, as you walk, having been kissed by the scorching light of the sun and brushed against by dewy blades of grass. It feels surreal and staggering to be outside alone so early in the morning, yet peaceful, for you know that it will be long before you get this chance again.

“Bug!”

Oh no. no no no. You walk faster, hoping to make it inside before Hyunjin can catch up to you. Hyunjin is never this early. He either comes right on time or late to the frustration of your teachers and peers although no one would ever say it to his face. You can hear his feet against the pavement louder and louder as he comes closer to you, catching up just when you take the first step up the stairs to the entrance.

“You didn’t hear me, bug?”

“Stop calling me bug.”

“Sorry, bug,” Hyunjin laughs, putting a heavy arm over your shoulders and bringing you closer.

You roll your eyes so hard it feels like they’re gonna stick. Maybe they should so you don’t ever have to see Hyunjin again. Maybe he’d think you look scary like that, your eyes rolled up forever. Maybe then he’d leave you alone.

Hyunjin is annoying. He always acts like you’re his friend, but you know it’s fake because why would he want to be friends with you, someone who hates everything he works hard on and hates him as well to an extent. It seems overly fake and forced to you, so you don’t ever entertain it. The last thing you need is to fall for it and then be made out to look like an idiot when he eventually embarrasses you.

“It’s too early.”

“It’s never too early, pretty.”

“It’s always too early to be dealing with you,” You groan, wrenching his arm away from where it laid over your shoulders. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Why not?” Hyunjin asks, seemingly unaffected by your attitude towards him. He shoves his hands in his pockets, his shoulders raised up to his chin in a shrug. “I like talking to you.”

You snort, looking up at him with eyebrows raised, “You like talking to me, the one person— possibly in this world— who absolutely hates you, and barely spares you the time of day?” You ask, tilting your head in mock confusion. “I’m sure this is the longest we’ve ever had a conversation, but nice try.” You squeeze his cheeks, hard, and when he swats your hand away you can’t help the giggle that you let out. If his cheeks felt like dough under your fingers you’re choosing to ignore that, wiping a hand on your jeans with way more intensity than needed.

“But see,” Hyunjin starts again, “We’re having a conversation right now and neither of us wanna choke each other.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m barely resisting the urge to punt your head like a baseball.”

It’s silent for a moment before you both burst out into a fit of giggles. Hyunjin braces himself against his knees as he laughs, his hair falling over his face as he does, and you’re not much better— staggering where you stand to laugh with him. It only takes a few seconds for you both to calm down, and slowly the reality of what happened catches up to you.

“Do you even punt baseballs?” Hyunjin snorts, and you just laugh harder.

“I don’t know, Hyunjin, if you haven’t noticed I’m at the arts building not sports.” You wheeze, fighting through another laugh. “Now I’m just imagining your head flying over the gardens.”

Hyunjin lets out another chuckle but shivers a bit at the thought. He waits for you to calm down, your giggles turning into small huffs. A hint of a smile still remains on your cheeks, and the sun shines down so strongly on your features it feels like he’s seeing an angel— like divinity right in front of his eyes. When you straighten up, he can see every movement. The way you position your bag upright, the way a bit of your gums poke out from your lips. Your lips, soft, glossy, and look the most perfect in a smile. He can see the way your eyebrows lose the tension from your laughing fit, the way the crinkle of your eyes lessen as your face relaxes. He can see everything, so he can also see when your lips fall back into a firm line, when your eyebrows go back to that angry stance they always hold when you’re around him. The way your shoulders stiffen, and the grip on your bag tightens. He can see everything, and he reminds himself the only time you laugh is when he’s the butt of the joke.

“I’m going to class,” You murmur, walking the rest of the way up the stairs and into the building without looking back or waiting for him to respond. Though Hyunjin wonders what he would’ve even said.

I’ll come with you.

We can sit together.

No, you both can’t do anything together, and more and more Hyunjin wonders why he even wants to.

“You were laughing with Hwang Hyunjin? The sex demon??” Your friend hisses from next to you, stringing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You?”

“Yes, me, Jieun.” You huff. “I can barely believe it either. What did he do to me? I hate him, I can’t show weakness by laughing around him.”

“Honey,” Jieun laughs, leaning towards you, “You can laugh. Honestly the fact that you ran away after is hilarious.”

“I didn’t run away.”

“You ran away.”

“I didn’t run.”

Jieun settles on you with a heavy stare, face slack, and you roll your eyes. “Fine, I walked away.”

“I don’t know how either of you take each other seriously.”

“I don’t take him seriously.”

“Yeah you do, babe. You refuse to laugh around him. That’s very serious.”

You snort.

“And the fact that he gives you the time of day when this is the dumbest feud possible… I just don’t understand it.”

“It’s not dumb.” You sputter, smoothing your hand over the glossy wooden desk of the classroom. “It’s…” You trail off, staring into the large windows at the side of the room. You cock your head and lean forward, jaw slack when the sex demon himself waves outside. “Oh what a stalker.” You growl, throwing up the middle finger in his direction. “He’s got his little posse following him too.”

When Jieun makes to wave back you smack the back of her head and groan when she gives you an affronted look.

“What was that for?” Jieun exclaims, bringing a hand up to rub against the back of her head.

“Don’t fraternize with the enemy,” You hiss, folding your arms over your chest and staring back at your professor.

“Are you gonna explain the feud—”

“No.”

In your opinion, class doesn’t end quickly enough. You split with Jieun at the entrance, the both of you going in opposite directions, and attempt to reorder your frazzled mind. So you laughed. A lot of people laugh at people they hate. Plus, he laughed too— so why should you be overthinking it? You’ve laughed before, in situations you weren’t supposed to, and this is no different. Now you just need to make sure it never happens again. You nod to yourself as you walk, pulling out your phone to make sure Seungmin is already at the meeting spot.

The sun is still just as ruthless as it was earlier, but a light breeze grazes your skin and rustles the trees along the sidewalk and in the field in front of you. There’s a bunch of picnic tables, some occupied and some of them not. There’s groups of friends sitting under trees, some couples, some of them alone; reading or completing assignments in the nice weather. You spot Seungmin a few tables down, a brown sweater over a collared shirt and cute glasses perched upon his nose.

You take your time walking to the table, letting your skin soak in the warmth and tranquil peace of nature. When Seungmin spots you he shuffles over, giving you some space to sit next to him and you do, mumbling a small hey before knocking your head against the table.

“You’re going to a party with me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Seungmin… Hi, how are you? How was your day? No, I’m not.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“Well, unless you’re going to drag me, no I’m not.”

“I just might,” Seungmin sighs, “Why are you so difficult?”

“Difficult? You’re the one being difficult. I don’t want to go and you’re telling me it’s not a choice.”

“Because it’s not.”

You let out a groan, a long torturous one that has people turning their head to a straight faced Seungmin and you who’s head is still knocked against the table. When people think it’s stopped it starts all over again, a guttural groan filled with displeasure and frustration that loosens your chest when it’s done.

“Are you done?”

“Leave me alone.”

“It’s on Saturday. I can pick you up.” Seungmin says instead of arguing.

“Today’s Thursday.” You whine, just stopping yourself from letting out another groan— one that wouldn’t ever stop for as long as you have to deal with Kim Seungmin and his annoying, snarky, bossy self.

“…. I’m aware.” Seungmin says, and you don’t even have to look at him to know he’s making a face like and so what?

“I can’t stand you, I hope you know that. No type of warning, no preparation… I don’t party. I need at least two weeks to mentally prepare myself and another two weeks to get an outfit.”

“Damn.” Seungmin says, but he rubs a hand against your back, lightly pushing you to lift your head from the table. “Listen, I’ll help you. And it’s being thrown by people I know so you don’t have to worry. I don’t think many people throw college parties a month in advance but I’ll keep that in mind.”

All you can do is nod, waiting patiently as Seungmin finishes whatever assignment he’s working on. You’ve already completed the ones you have, the pro of not having much else to do and being on top of things always. Everyday you both meet up here, either at a table or under one of the trees and talk. Read, finish assignments, or even eat snacks. There have been some times where you meet there and then go somewhere else together, rarely off campus but it happens, and you get something to eat or go on a mini adventure. It’s the highlight of your day and you’re sure it is for Seungmin too, but you’d never admit that to each other. You don’t have to, though, because you’re both always on the same wavelength especially when it counts the most.

Though now he’s given you something else to worry about, that being this sudden party. It’s no doubt being held by a frat house, and you have an inkling which house it is. You haven’t asked, trying not to pop the bubble of secureness that surrounds you. You can go to a party being held by the CSC. You can, and you will, and if it isn’t being held by them then that’s even better. You try to convince yourself you really don’t care at all, but the thought remains. Can you really enjoy yourself at a party being held by them? You don’t know why it bothers you so much or why you feel so uncomfortable having a good time around them, but you just keep repeating the same thing to yourself over and over. It doesn’t matter.

“Jieun told me what happened this morning.”

“Of course she did.” You sigh, staring ahead at the group of squirrels running up a tree. The people under it startle when leaves start to fall over their heads. “We just left each other, how did she find the time to text you all that?”

“She called me,” Seungmin cackles, braces on full display as he scribbles furiously into his notebook. “Every story I hear about you and Hyunjin is against my will.”

“Every interaction between me and Hyunjin is against my will,” You counter, shifting so that you face him. “What did she say?”

“That you laughed with him and it embarrassed you. That you’re confused about your feelings towards him.”

“So are you two my therapists now? I’m not confused. I don’t like the things he does— I don’t like his carefree attitude, how he has no problem talking to me like we’re friends. I don’t like- No, I hate the fact that so many people fucking praise him because he created some crude porn site.”

Your heart rate picks up, your hand gripping at your jeans as a poor attempt to conceal your growing frustration. “I don’t like the fact that no one else sees what’s wrong with it. We shouldn’t have a fucking porn site for college students? I don’t think we should know what we all look like under our clothes and I’m tired of everyone acting like I'm the crazy one. He’s the perverted one, the weird one. Who the fuck thinks of something like that? It’s not just him, it’s all of them.”

Seungmin ponders your words, the grip on his pen tightening ever so slightly. “Hyunjin is a good guy. All of them are, and if that’s how you feel then why do you talk to me? I use the site, I'm their friend, I’ve helped them out when making it. Aren’t I weird and perverted too?”

You sigh, “Seungmin…”

“Help me understand. Because if you can stand to be around me, then why can’t you be around them? Or try.”

“It isn’t the same and you know it. It’s easy to ignore it when it’s you. That’s them. They are the CSC to me. A reminder of everything I hate, what I want to get rid of.”

“But why the hell does it matter? People want to use the site and that’s why they do. No one is fucking forcing it.”

“You guys just don’t understand it. None of you do. It’s like you’re blinded by it or something.”

“We’re grown adults, Y/N,” Seungmin growls, “We don’t need you to be a guardian fucking angel.”

“Don’t make me out to be the bad guy, just because all you fucking care about is sex or some college sluts, like can you actually be that shallow?”

“Why is it so hard for you to see reason? Do you see how angry you’re getting at me for asking a simple question? You asked me what Jieun said and I told you.” Seungmin spits, shutting his book with a slam.

“Stop asking me about that site. Stop making me seem like some confused hateful person just because you’re too dense to understand where I’m coming from. I’m not confused, I know exactly how I feel. I try not to bring it up because you like the damn thing so much, and you can’t seem to hold the same courtesy for me.” You stand from the seat, settling a dark glare at Seungmin’s angered form.

“Fuck your friends, fuck that site. Stop talking about me like I need guidance.”

You’re not irrational. You’re not. You have every right to be angry. Seungmin is your friend. Jieun is your friend. They’re supposed to be there for you, not gang up on you. You feel alone, so alone in everything you fight for, in everything you aim to conquer— as if the things you stand for don’t matter. It reminds you of middle school all over again, of high school— having people look at you like you were something from another planet. Someone people had always failed to understand. It’s lonely. You’re not irrational.

You didn’t blow up. You’re not angry. You’re frustrated, yes, but you don’t blow up. You don’t get mad. You aren’t irrational. Anyone else in your position would feel the same, right? Anyone else would be upset because it feels like your friends always take the side of the people you despise more than anyone else. Why aren’t they on your side? Why don’t they believe you? Why don’t they understand? It makes you feel stupid. It makes you feel like you have no right to feel the way you do. It’s lonely.

You’ve never been irrational. You’ve always had a good grip on your feelings. Always. And when it feels like the grip loosens it’s always the cause of something relating to the CSC. It’s proof that it’s what the root of your problems is. It’s proof that the CSC needs to be gone so you can finally go back to normal. So you don’t feel like the odd one out. So you don’t have to feel so upset. Because you’re not irrational. You have every right to feel this way. You don’t get mad. You’re not angry. You don’t blow up.

You control everything, you control your actions, your emotions, and you make sure to hold control over your environment— of how things play out for every second of your life. This feels like it’s running out of control. That the CSC brings havoc in your life no matter what— even when you try to ignore it, it comes running back to fuck you over even further. You’re not irrational. You’re not confused. You don’t get mad. You don’t. You don’t blow up. You control everything.

The sun hides right when you need it. You pretend tears don’t blur your vision, you pretend that the suddenly gloomy environment doesn’t affect you the way it does. You pretend that the once comforting breeze doesn’t feel sharp against your exposed skin. You pretend because when things run out of control that’s all you can do. Pretend you’ve got it handled, pretend that you still have a grip on things, pretend that you understand. You’re not irrational. You have every right to feel this way.

You never argue with Seungmin. Playful bickering from time to time or you two being rude to each other but always playfully. You’ve never cursed at him so maliciously, spoken to him like he was someone random, as if he wasn’t your best friend. You’ve never done those things— but you do when the CSC is involved. You never get pissed at Jieun, even when she’s annoying, even when she acts like the only thing important in life is the new boy she’s talking to— You don’t get mad. You’re not mad now, but you’re something. Something fiery, and everything always goes back to the CSC. You’re not irrational. You’re just the only one who understands.

Right when you see the blurry form of your dorm building it gets blocked by a large body and you slam right into its chest. You can barely see in front of you and you know your face is screwed up into the worst form imaginable, tears falling with no control. Without your control.

“Sorry, excuse me,” You laugh wetly, sidestepping whoever is blocking your way and running up the steps to your dorm. The sooner you fall into your bed and cry this out, the sooner you can forget about it. The sooner you can apologize and move past this weird limbo of feelings. It feels like purgatory, stuck in the in between, not sure which direction you’ll end up going in. It’s full of unsureness, of frustration. It feels like a loss of control. It angers you, makes you feel like nothing is going right.

But you don’t get angry. You’re not irrational. You don’t get mad. You pretend, because that’s all you can do.

Hyunjin is confused.

The last thing he expected to see this morning was you laughing, but now, he realizes the last thing he ever expected to see was you crying. Eyes glossy with tears, a nose rubbed raw, face screwed up into something pitiful.

Hyunjin doesn’t know a lot of things. He doesn’t expect a lot of things, but most of all he doesn’t know how to continue after seeing it. He doesn’t expect to care so much, not after the way you’ve regarded him. After the way you’ve both regarded each other. He doesn’t know why he can’t walk away and say nothing when he knows he should. If he brings it up you’ll get defensive, be embarrassed, be angry. He shouldn’t say anything.

He keeps walking, frowning slightly at the gloomy clouds. It was so sunny less than an hour ago. Things change so quickly, it doesn’t make any sense. He thinks back to earlier that morning, the light that shone on your face with every laugh you let out. He thinks back to just a few seconds ago. How dark shadows fell over your face as tears ran down your cheeks.

The walk is more automatic than anything else. He doesn’t take the time to stare at the scenery, he doesn’t look at the people around him. He barely sees the ground in front of him as he walks, his mind not registering what’s right in front of his face. He’s too caught up in you. Like usual, wondering why you do the things you do, why you feel the way you feel, wanting to understand. What did he do? What can he do to make you feel better? How can he make you hate him any less? He wants to understand, he wants to listen, to talk to you, to be near you. It confuses him.

His phone vibrates, pulling him from his thoughts. It’s chan, texting about the party on Saturday, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He’s so tired, tired of running around for parties, tired of attending to the site, tired of waking up early for classes. He just wants a second to sit down and relax, to not worry about you ruining the one thing he’s worked hard for, to not worry about what class he’s flunking, about what party he’s expected to attend, to not worry about why you were crying in the middle of the afternoon. He just wants a moment to collect his thoughts and free his mind.

HJ: I got it

BC: alr cool, put it in the cabinet with the lock, you know how Hyunjoon gets

HJ: Fuck, is it that bad?

BC: he’s an alcoholic bud, it’s that bad.

Hyunjin laughs a little, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. He wonders if Seungmin told you about the party yet and grimaces, wondering if that’s the reason why you were crying. If it is, he’s not sure who needs to get a grip. You, for hating him so bad, or him for continuing to try and get you not to. It takes a lot of effort for him to continue the power walk back to the frat, but he arrives sooner than later, stuffing the bag of drinks inside the cabinet and locking it shut. He thinks it’s a bit ridiculous that they have to lock the alcohol up as if they have small kids running around, and also wonders the effectiveness when Hyunjoon lives in a frat house and is an adult who can buy his own alcohol.

It’s Thursday afternoon but he finds that he’s not as excited for a party as he should be. Usually, he’d be bouncing on his heels, counting down the hours for it to start, and realizing he’s so caught up in everything else going around he doesn’t feel that normal excitement that he so often does. He makes sure to fix that, shaking the unnecessary thoughts from his head, pushing responsibilities to later. He has a party to prepare for and he's gonna act like it.

The rest of the boys don’t get back till later— they’d given Hyunjin the responsibility of buying cups and drinks and shitty snacks while they went off somewhere else. Hyunjin can’t keep track of what they do especially if he’s not joining, so he focuses on doing what he’s supposed to in order to make this the best party of the year so far. His frat has always held the record of best parties— has always held their winnings in high regard as well, and he’ll be damned if he gets the cold shoulder if he’s the reason the party isn’t as good as it should be. Most of all, he’s thinking about what he’s gonna do during it.

Hyunjin is not shy on having sex— never has been, never will be, and more often than not he’s having it. Sure, that may be expected since he made a literal porn site, but Jisung also had a hand in it and he has a girlfriend. Felix doesn’t have one-night stands often, nor does Seungmin. It’s different for all of them.

He knows there’s a few girls that have been actively trying to get in his pants, knows that he’s been trying to get into theirs, but he can only hope he can focus on them for long enough to do so without thinking about you. If you come, he knows that there’s no chance he’ll think of anything else, and he’ll probably spend the entire night just getting you to laugh again. To get you to explain to him why. why why why. It’s confusing, but he pretends it doesn’t matter.

Thursday comes and goes too quickly, and Friday does as well. The day isn’t over yet, it’s only the afternoon, but the implications of that make you anxious. Make your nerves ignite far more than they should.

Seungmin didn’t answer your calls for the rest of that Thursday. Didn’t read or respond to a single text until you decided to leave him alone. Jieun called, but you didn’t answer. You think the way you felt towards her is the way Seungmin felt towards you. Maybe something worse, so you gave him space and took some for yourself, a moment to really think about what made you react the way you did. You don’t think you’re in the wrong, you still don’t think you could’ve reacted any other way and you’re not sure what that says about you.

You take another bite of your sandwich as you walk down the street from the Art store, your phone cradled in your other hand and a drink poking out from the opening in your bag. It’s hard to mentally prepare for things that you don’t know anything about. You don’t know where the party is, who’s hosting it, how long you’re expected to stay. Thought that’s if you’re even still going. You want to take Seungmin’s silence as an answer that no, you aren’t, but you also don’t want to assume that and then he shows up at your door and you’re not ready.

You don’t want to go, not at all, but if it made Seungmin happy then you would. If he didn’t come to pick you up you briefly entertained finding your own way to the party and cornering him, forcing him to hear your apology before leaving and soaking your pillow with tears. But you don’t know where the party is. You also briefly entertained the idea of calling Jieun and asking her, but you’re not interested in the lecture that would come from that. You still don’t appreciate her words about you to Seungmin and the implication of them. Seungmin is your friend, you can tell him what happened all by yourself. You don't need Jieun to play messenger.

You swallow the last of your lunch and throw the wrapper in the nearest trash can. You want to start a new painting, one that can unleash the frustrations of your life as it is right now, and you can only do that by getting some new supplies. You save up constantly for this exact reason— for the ability to buy whatever your heart desires whenever it desires it. You dip your toes into whatever interests you, and all concepts of Art satisfies you more than anything. Writing whatever you desire, taking pictures of the things you find beautiful, painting whatever you want— it gives you the control that fuels you more than anything else.

The art shop by your university is quaint, always quiet and never very full, yet always filled with high quality supplies and fully stocked. You’ve made friends with the old lady who owns it and her daughter, constantly going there just to buy something in order to catch up with them on whatever has happened since your last visit. They’re like the mother and sister you never had, people who feel more like family than your own. It’s partly for that reason that you’ve made the trek there, hoping to get some advice for the things you’ve been feeling before going to the party that’s undoubtedly being held by the one group of people you despise.

The bells above the door jingle when you step in, and you let the smell of paint, chalk, crayons, pens, and faint air freshener soothe you. It’s just as cluttered as it’s always been— stacks upon stacks of sketchbooks and canvases on one side situated next to the easels and small desks. The paints have a section of their own, oil, watercolor, acrylic, matte, and more— on the opposite side there’s pens and crayons, colored pencils, oil pastels, and sharpeners of all shapes and sizes.

The walls are covered in paint as if before bringing in all the items they’d had fun splattering the walls in color. It’s messy, unruly, cluttered, and barely organized— so it doesn’t make sense to you why it comforts you so much. When you see a small form hobble out from behind a stack of books a smile forms unbiddenly on your face, and the small old lady smiles back.

“I missed you, dear,” She scolds, wrapping you up in a hug. “It’s been too long since you’ve come to visit.”

“I know, I’ve just been busy Ms. Yang. I missed you.” You sigh, rubbing your nose in the soft fabric of her sweater. She smells like paint and flowers— she smells like home.

“Sam will be here soon, she’d love to see you.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice. I need to talk to her too.”

“I can tell, child. You look stressed.” She sighs, shuffling behind the counter and sitting on one of the other seats behind it. “Get what you’re looking for,” She says waving a hand dismissively towards you.” I won’t make you explain it twice.”

You huff lightheartedly, making your way over to the canvases and picking one of medium proportions. You’re still not sure what it is you want to paint, but you know whatever you’re feeling is strong enough that you grab Oil paint, needing something rich and vibrant and something sharper to contrast the muddled and cloudy image of your mind.

It’s before long that you settle on a brand you normally buy, and the set of bells signal someone’s arrival into the shop. You turn your head, expecting to see Sam and her long curly hair, beautiful in its volume and her tawny brown skin, but instead you’re greeted with the sight of straight brown hair, swept behind the ears of a tall man, a mole under his eye and the reason for all your problems. You don’t know why you react the way you do, but with your items cradled in your hand you sprint behind a large stack of sketchbooks and hold your breath, staring with wide eyes at the cans of paint at your feet.

What the fuck is Hwang Hyunjin doing at your shop? This is your safe place— your safe haven. A part of you curses the ground he walks on, hopes that the store is too messy and cluttered for his liking, prays that he proves he’s as shallow as the company he keeps and that he leaves and doesn’t come back. Another part of you hates yourself for being so ridiculous. For letting your personal feelings about him delve so far that you’d think something like that. Sam and Mrs.Yang deserve the business, deserve the money, deserve the customers. You shouldn’t hope for anything different— but it still amazes you how he never fails to intrude on the things you hold dear. To intrude on the things you want to keep to yourself.

You don’t move from the spot you’re in. It could’ve been ten minutes, an hour, even, or maybe it was only thirty seconds, but you only peek out when you hear Sam’s voice ring through the shop. You survey the room, stepping out from your hiding spot when you confirm that Hyunjin is nowhere to be found. Though, you don’t think you could’ve hid regardless by the way Sam calls your name.

“Hi, Sammy,” You smile, coming up to pull her into a hug. She grips you tightly, her kinky hair tickling your cheek and her clothes smelling faintly of vanilla and roses. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, hun,” Sam smiles, albeit a little sadly as she looks over your face. “What’s wrong?”

“Hey, don’t leave a poor old lady out,” Mrs. Yang huffs, “Come over here and tell us both about it.”

Without even saying anything they’ve already cheered you up, your steps feeling lighter as you make your way behind the counter and sit on one of the three seats. You sit between them both, their eyes set patiently but concerningly on you.

“I don’t know, really,” You start, and then, you tell them. About your argument with Seungmin, about how lonely it is feeling like you’re the only one feeling this way, about how much the site angers you— how it makes you feel. You tell them about Hyunjin, about how he doesn’t stop bothering you no matter how much you make it obvious you don’t want his company. How much that frustrates you, as well, and about how the lack of control over the entire situation, and over the CSC’s place in your life makes you uncomfortable, and about how the CSC itself makes you feel things you’ve never felt before and how much that scares you. You can barely describe the way it does, and who else can you blame besides its creators.

When you’re done it feels like you’ve vented a lifelong event, it makes a heavy weight lift itself off your shoulders and the heavy silence that remains doesn’t feel like judging, but rather them trying to understand— soaking up the meaning of every word you said in an attempt to place themselves in your shoes.

“I think,” Sam starts, “That your cluelessness about your feelings towards the site in general turns into anger, and the fact that the boy,”

“Hyunjin”, You offer.

“Yes, I think his attempts at speaking to you only worsen it somehow, like you’re being cornered by this weird feeling that you don’t understand and it makes you even angrier.”

“You said your friend is a part of it?” Mrs.Yang interjects, a wrinkly hand kneading your shoulder.

“Yeah,” You murmur, “He’s good friends with the group and he loves the website.”

“That probably doesn’t help then,” She continues, “If you’re surrounded by people who know what they like or enjoy something you don’t like or don’t understand, of course you’re going to feel angry. You feel like the odd one out.”

“I think more than anything you need to figure out if it’s really anger you’re feeling, and if the only reason why you hate this website is not because of its purpose but because of your lack of control over it.” Sam finishes.

“I can’t say I agree with it either,” Mrs.Yang grunts, “It’s not something I think college students need to be worrying about. Things like that stick with you, but it’s their choice to indulge in it, Y/n, you can’t control that.”

You sigh. You guess so, but you still feel like you need to get rid of it. You’ve been slacking, not paying attention to it as much as you should because of all the chaos it’s creating. It’s been a while since you’ve done a petition or made a list of ideas as an attempt to shut it down, but for now it seems like enough to just hate it. They can’t change your mind. Not Seungmin, not Sam, not Jieun, not Mrs.Yang, not Chan or Changbin or Minho— not any of them, and especially not Hyunjin. You just want to be hateful in peace and you don’t know why you don’t seem to be allowed to do that.

You leave the shop feeling lighter, but also like you didn’t actually get any good advice. Sure they validated your feelings, but that’s it. You’ve been trying to figure out your feelings. You know why you’re frustrated, and even though it felt good to be validated it also felt like a waste. You hold the bag of art supplies closer to you as you walk. The sun is setting, painting the sky reds, and oranges, and purples— and you think maybe you’ll paint that. To represent the end of the turmoil that surrounds you, as something hopeful.

You relish in the soft slope of your shoulders, in the relaxation you so rarely feel nowadays, and walk briskly to your dorm so you can fall into your bed and try to forget about the fact that there’s a party you’re supposed to be at tomorrow.

And as if the thought brought it on, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out quicker than you’d ever admit and a relieved smile pulls on your lips when you see it’s from Seungmin.

pup: be ready by 9

you: ok!!!!!

you: i miss you

There’s no more responses but you don’t let that dampen your mood. He still wants you to go with him and that says enough. You do feel terrible about the way you acted— the way you’ve been acting— but you know it’s justified. You’re not irrational. Not at all.

If you collapse at the foot of your bed, art supplies sitting on the floor by your feet, and a paper by your head titled #686, no one has to know.

This Saturday has not been a day of relaxation for you. You didn’t have any plans, though instead of enjoying the peace you so rarely received, the day consisted of you running around your room with a frazzled energy following behind like a ghost. At first you contemplated showing up in a sweater and jeans; no makeup, no jewelry, just you and a lazy fit— but realized that would only bring you even more stares than if you dressed as slutily as possible.

It’s with a black leather mini skirt and a black, lacy, low cut long sleeve tucked inside that you finally allow yourself to relax. You’re probably dressed way too flashily for a college party, but you can’t entertain any thoughts like that or you’ll spend the next three hours obsessing over it— and that’s three hours that you don’t have. Knee length boots stare at you from the door and it’s with a sigh that you walk to the door and put them on.

There’s more reasons to be nervous than just the party, between the inevitable walk with Seungmin to the encounter you’re most definitely going to have with the CSC and all of its users, you’re out of your element. There’s not enough deep breaths to make you calm down, there’s no method available to help clear your mind. Your heart races much more than should be healthy. It feels like hell, even, and all you can do is let this plethora of nerves run its course.

When your phone buzzes with Seungmin’s ‘I’m outside’ text, it almost feels like your heart stops. Fuck, Seungmin’s gonna ask who you’re all dressed up for, gonna ask why you’re so nervous. Why are you all dressed up? Why are you even going? It’s too much, too much of not knowing, not understanding, not feeling right. What will it take to get you to feel right? Like in freshman year when your biggest worry was whether or not you were passing your classes, now it feels like that's a lifetime ago. Like you’ve encountered way too much to even consider anything like that— not that you need to worry about it anyway. It was supposed to be a carefree year for you. You’re always on top of your responsibilities, always prepared, and nothing ever changed that until you went on that site for the first and last time.

You stop, relax your shoulders, take a deep breath that’s otherwise pointless, and step out the door. You curse the day you ever went on that website. It’s why everything is all messed up now, but you rid those thoughts from your mind. You’re determined to have fun tonight no matter what, and no matter who’s there.

Seungmin waits at the door, A button-down hanging off his shoulders and jeans. His hair is combed back and he’s ditched the glasses.

“Hey.” It comes out meeker than you’d like, a little too timid for what your relationship with Seungmin is.

“Hey,” he smiles, the braces you love so much on full display. Your best friend is beautiful, and it’s with a pang to your chest, it’s with seeing him now— so welcoming and so normal with you— that a small part of you realizes maybe you have been being irrational. Maybe you have been acting too strongly, but then you remind yourself that you’ve never been irrational. Never.

“So I’m guessing we’re going to the CSC’s dorm?”

“You’ll fit right in,” Seungmin laughs, starting to walk. You struggle to catch up to him; it’s been so long since you last wore heels that it’s hard to get used to. You don’t grace his comment with an answer, simply relishing in the soft nightly breeze and the shine of the moon. The stars glitter from above you, light years away yet so visible. So sure of their stance in life. You don’t think stars blow up at their best friends, or feel confused, or feel lonely.

You arrive at the party all too soon. From a block away you could see people drunk, staggering in the same direction, and from down the street you could hear the bass of the music, but the warning signs weren’t nearly enough to prepare you for the actual sight of it. It’s like the typical house parties you’d see on TV, but louder and more nerve-wracking. People hang out in front, the music loud enough for them to enjoy even from outside the building. Lights flash from behind the window, an array of purples, greens, reds, and blues. You can see people's shadows from behind the curtains over the front windows, and you feel like you’re about to throw up.

“Oh god,” You mumble, taking a few shaky steps inside. You can't do this. You’re gonna freak out and embarrass yourself. You can almost feel the anxiety seeping from your pores, and the word no repeats over and over in your head like a mantra.

No no no no no.

You can’t do this, but you do it anyway. Stepping inside the party is a feat in itself, and you can’t tell if your hands are shaking from the strong bass of the music or because of pure anxiety. The music knocks into your body so strongly that your knees buckle, barely able to hold you upright. At any moment you feel like you might collapse.

You can’t do it but you do it anyway, taking one step and then another, and when the door closes behind you, you resist the urge to turn back and run away. The party is full of people— so full that it’s impossible to walk anywhere without bumping into someone, and despite your best efforts you do get stares. Whether it’s because of what you’re wearing or if it’s because it’s you at a party being held by the CSC… you’re not entirely sure. You don’t think it makes a difference. You try to ignore it, act unbothered, and it must work because after a while they look away, murmuring something or the other about what you’re doing there.

Seungmin drags you away from the door and to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge and cabinets like it’s his home. You take in the somewhat chill vibe of the kitchen compared to everywhere else. It’s not nearly as full, but there are couples at opposite ends acting as if it isn’t a place where food is kept.

You take a few deep breaths, reassure yourself that you can do this, and even if you can’t you’ll do it anyway. Seungmin doesn’t say anything, just pours you something sweet and fruity in a red cup and hands it over with a raise of his eyebrows. You drink it way too quickly and you know you’re gonna regret it later, but you need the effect it’ll bring. The faux calmness that’ll help you get through the night. Though with how full the party is you think that you won’t be able to see the hosts anytime soon if at all, and that’s enough to bring your heart to a stuttering stop before it resumes its beating in a much more slow paced manner. You’re still not calm, but you’re doing your best.

“Try to relax,” Seungmin chides, his gaze heavy where it bores into you. “Everything will be just fine.”

You nod, taking a more calculated sip of your drink this time. You let the music relax you instead of startle you— focusing on the beats and the melody— on the lyrics, instead of the volume and how it makes your body tremble. You can do this.

When you finally feel like you’re able to relax, Seungmin parts from you, saying there’s some people he has to see. You’re an adult, so you can handle being alone for a few minutes. Eventually, though, the few minutes turn into something longer. You wonder if maybe Seungmin is still upset with you— you didn’t speak much about it on the walk like you thought you would. Honestly, it was mostly silence, and you didn’t think much of it before but you are now. You hold your drink close to your chest, dubbing it your life line for the night.

You last all of thirty minutes before you feel like you’re getting too hot— the building only gets even more stuffy as more people arrive, all of you packaged like a can of sardines. You take the fleeting burst of confidence to leave the kitchen and go to the backyard, hoping that it’ll be a bit more peaceful (as peaceful as possible considering the music blasting), and allow the fresh air to graze your skin like a soft blanket. You sit down on one of the benches in the backyard, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. What will it take to feel at peace? Maybe there’s nothing you can do. And it’s with these thoughts that you do exactly what you shouldn’t do at a party, wallowing in self pity and confusion. You’re so caught up in these thoughts that you don’t notice when someone else joins you.

“Hey, bug.”

Your head whips up faster than what’s comfortable, and you barely hide the wince that struggles to leave your lips. Hyunjin speaks again before you can respond.

“Don’t leave, alright. Please?” He asks, sitting down beside you and smoothing his hands over his pants. “Can we talk?”

“About?”

“About us? About you? I’m tired of running in circles and I want to know why you hate me— the CSC so much.”

You’re silent for a moment, contemplating, thinking. You should get up, leave the backyard and this party altogether. You should ignore whatever it is Hyunjin has to say because he’s the reason for all this, right? Why is he always pretending he doesn’t know; acting like he wants to get to know you? Acting like it really matters how you feel. Everyone wants to understand, everyone wants to know why, but you don’t even know— but you’ll never admit it outright. You’ll never say the one thing that’s been your driven principle for the past year is something you’re unsure about. All you know is that it’s bad, that it’s made you feel ways that were foreign to you, and in order to regain control you need to get rid of it. No matter how anyone else feels about it, no matter who gets upset with you along the way. You need to do it.

Your voice is soft, but not meek. For once, you’re gonna get this entire experience off your chest. “When I first went on the site in the beginning of freshman year I was curious,” You start, glancing at Hyunjin and feeling the tightness in your chest return when you realize he’s already looking at you. “At first, I was curious, and then I was confused. I clicked on a few videos— I scrolled for a while— and I started to get this weird feeling. The more I watched the videos, the more I scrolled through pictures and posts, the feeling got stronger.”

You feel so stupid, but you continue. If Hyunjin makes fun of you he’s just proving your assumptions correct. “I’d never felt that way before and honestly, it kinda scared me, and it was annoying that I didn’t understand it. I didn’t do anything after that. I ignored how fast my heart was beating, how my body was reacting, and never went on that site again. Slowly, that confusion turned into anger— it’s not normal. The way I felt wasn’t normal, and that’s why I think that site needs to get shut down.”

“Bug…” Hyunjin laughs a little and you want to be offended, but you can tell it’s more shock than amusement. “Bug have you ever had sex? Or.. touched yourself at all?”

Your mouth opens and closes comically, but Hyunjin is patient, waiting and watching carefully for you to speak. “Is that what’s important?” You finally say, your eyebrows furrowed and you’re ready to defend yourself if need be. “No, I haven’t.”

“God, bug this is…” Hyunjin squints at you, “I think you were aroused.”

You splutter, feeling your heart rate spike in embarrassment. “What!? No. No.”

“That weird feeling? That heat in your gut,” Hyunjin says, and to punctuate he lays a large, warm, hand over your stomach. “You were horny.” This time, Hyunjin’s laugh is one of amusement, but you're too distracted by how big his hand is, splayed over your stomach and so warm it feels like it’s burning through your clothes.

“Hyunjin, the feeling— no, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Bug, if you’ve never ever been aroused before somehow, of course it felt weird. Holy shit.”

You don’t say anything, but Hyunjin continues before you can get a grip on your thoughts.

“I can’t believe this is the reason why you’ve hated us for so long, I honestly can’t believe it.”

“Hyunjin… that feeling wasn’t pleasurable. Control is pleasurable. I didn’t have a grip on anything that day and barely regained it on the days following. You can’t convince me that getting rid of the CSC won’t bring back a sense of normalcy. You can’t, and even if you’re right, I think that morally, the site is still wrong, and I’m not going to stop trying to shut it down.”

“There’s so much about the CSC you don’t know about, and there’s so much more to pleasure than control.” Hyunjin sighs, clearly more at ease now that he realizes you’re just confused. You don’t know, really, why you hate them. That’s clear. You’re stubborn though, he can tell, and even if this idea he has works— he’s not sure you’ll stop until you get what you want.

Earlier that day the CSC received an email from the dean, threatening that they’ll start looking into all that their site entails because of how often you keep badgering them about it. It’s starting to create a murmur between staff, and they’re growing increasingly frustrated. All that means to Hyunjin is you’re finally breaking through their resolve, running them down enough for them to consider shutting it down or supervising more intensely. Hyunjin can’t have that. None of them can. When Hyunjin approached you tonight he expected to have to beg— to have to plead with you to stop meddling. The site is bigger than you know, more important than some college stupidity. It rakes in a lot of cash, and he can’t have such petty reasoning stop that flow.

Hyunjin’s voice is husky as he continues and his words send an undeniable shiver down your spine “I can show you that the site, and sex by association aren’t bad at all. Mentally, you’re confused and physically, you’re pent up. We can’t have that can we, pretty girl?”

“No, we can’t.”

Wait. What? Yes, we can. Yes you can. You’ve been doing just fine right? You don’t need Hyunjin’s help. He’s not gonna change your mind because your mind doesn’t need changing.

“You can try to shut us down, but at the same time let us help you.”

“Us?” You murmur, attempting to understand what exactly is happening.

“All of us, the CSC can help you figure out what you’re feeling, right? We can help you decide what to do.”

“…You can help me?”

Hyunjin hums, removing his hand from your waist and trailing his finger along the skin just above the hem of your shirt. His fingers dip over your cleavage, tug at your necklace, up and up until your chin is in his hand, and he turns you to face him as his lips brush your cheek. “I want to see who will succeed first, so let me show you that there’s more to pleasure than control.”

He can help you. Out of all the people who ask you why, who say they want to understand but don’t try, he’s the one who’s offering a solution. As annoying as he’s always been to you, as much as he’s always embodied something you hate— the person who’s embedded such foreign feelings in your mind— he wants to help you. He wants to try, and he’s not telling you to stop your goal either. He’s not telling you it’s stupid, he’s not getting angry. He doesn’t make you feel irrational. You’re not irrational. You have a goal and it’s one you’re gonna complete, but… it doesn’t hurt to try, right? And if you succeed, if you shut them down and Hyunjin fails— if the CSC fails you’ll win. You’ll win and prove that you were right all along.

“Go easy on me.”

“Of course, bug.”

You keep your eyes downcast in embarrassment as Hyunjin whispers against your skin, his fingers gently turning your chin up and over to the point of focus. His lips. Pouty, sinfully crimson, curving upwards so surely, like they themselves know their effect on people. They look so soft, so wet. You want to feel them, and it’s as if Hyunjin’s read your mind because his lips are on yours before you can even blink.

“You just kissed me,” Your voice is airy, breathless, and usually you’d be embarrassed.

“Can I do it again?”

There’s a simmering, boiling tension both of you have been ignoring but you’ve lost the will to care about hating Hyunjin or Chan or the CSC. Momentarily, you’ve lost the will to feel much at all but a burning desire to take away any negative emotion you feel. You’re sick of it, sick of feeling confused. Last night you’d dealt with it by crying your eyes out, before that you’d dealt with it by having a screaming match with your best friend, and now you’re ready to look for something to fix it. This just might be the best way to start.

“Not outside.” You whisper, your hands clutching the fabric of Hyunjin’s shirt with such an intensity you’re afraid it’ll rip off then and there.

The trip inside and upstairs is a blur. You’re sure if anyone saw you they stared, wondering what you two were doing together, wondering what you were going upstairs for. It’s a blur, nothing is clear but what you’re going to do at this moment, and with Hwang Hyunjin of all people. Of what you’re going to do in the future, with the CSC of all people, what you’re gonna do to them— what you’re gonna allow them to do to you— that’s the only thing on the forefront of your mind. Not about who’s watching, not about who wants to know. It’s about you. You’re the one in control, you’re the one who gets to decide. You’re the one who needs to know.

Warm. You feel warm all over, pressed against Hyunjin with his thighs spreading yours open, warm in his tight embrace. Your hands are clutching at his clothes, at his arms— It’s so hot, yet somehow the constant cool air of the room makes you shiver.

“W-what do I do?”

Hyunjin chuckles, his voice the softest you’ve ever heard it. “You don’t have to do anything, pretty. Let me handle it.”

Letting Hyunjin handle anything doesn’t sound like a very good idea to you in any instance, but in this case you let him. You’re otherwise clueless in this area and frankly, if you want his help you’re going to have to accept it when it’s given. His mouth lands back on yours, a certain kind of desire running through the kiss. His hands are all over you. Trying to grab at every inch he can, and you try your best to kiss him back with equal intensity— to move your lips against his with the same fervor.

Your heart kicks up an irritating notch when Hyunjin slides a warm hand up your shirt. You can feel the way his fingers ghost over your skin with an unnatural intensity, as if his touch is amplified tenfold. And if Hyunjin had imagined this during late nights, cock shamelessly fisted in his hand as he dreamt of you pushing your panties to the side for him to enter your tight hole, no one has to know.

“Look at me, pretty,” Hyunjin growls, your eyes opening at his command against your better judgement. His pupils are dilated, staring down at you with a foreign intensity. The way he looks at you is an awakening, and with a small burst of confidence, you bury your fingers into the collar of his shirt, bringing him down for another kiss. It’s a little awkward with your inexperience, all teeth and clumsy movements until he takes the lead. His lips feel like heaven and you want them everywhere, want to kiss him forever. You want to sink his soft groans into your skin, keep the taste of him on your tongue for the rest of your days as he licks into your mouth, coaxing feelings out of you you've never felt before— kissing you into blissful dizziness.

"I wonder why you're so pretty, hm? Been torturing me for months, sweet thing," Hyunjin teases, pressing your thighs farther apart, tongue pushing against yours, his lips cherry red. You want to kiss him again. "I don’t think you really hate me, bug.”

Your breath hitches when his hands move to your skirt, slipping under the hem and holding the fabric tightly. God, you feel so bare. Like Hyunjin is looking at you from the inside out. When he pulls your skirt down slowly, so slowly it feels like time stands still, all that’s on your mind is him. His breathing, his touch, his warmth. When your pink, lacy panties come into view the chuckle Hyunjin lets out is so deep it feels like a heavy blanket over your mind, soothing you yet igniting something in you that you didn’t know existed. God, you’re in the demon's bed but you feel like you’ve gotten a taste of heaven, and when those soft, cherry red lips ghost over your skin, trailing over your pelvis, leaving light kisses along your skin, all you can do is jerk in his hold. You’re so sensitive. So, so sensitive.

His hands grip your waist tightly and his lips trail upwards, the bridge of his nose pushing your shirt up until it’s so high your breasts threaten to fall, smothering Hyunjin’s face underneath them. You shiver at the thought, those sinful lips pressing kisses against the skin of your breasts; what would it feel like? Would it feel like this? This feeling that you’re still so unfamiliar with?

"Pretty girls deserve to know what it feels like to have me right here,” Hyunjin starts, leaning down to press a trail of kisses to your inner thigh. He bites and marks along the fleshiest parts, chuckling at your quiet whimpers and yelps. You didn’t know you could make sounds like that. He slides a hand up between your thighs and rubs between your folds, still covered by your lacy panties. “Did you come to impress someone tonight?” Hyunjin murmurs, before splitting them to rub your clit through the fabric. You feel like falling as he circles between your thighs, a gasp hiccupping at the base of your throat before it gets stuck— you can’t make a sound.

You faintly hear the rustle of clothing and the absence of Hyunjin’s touch, opening your eyes to see him pulling his shirt off, biceps flexing as he does. He’s so big, and fuck, his whole body could cover your own if he really wanted. He towers over you, caging you in and surrounding you from all sides. When his shirt is off and thrown somewhere to the floor, he looms over you, his hands pressing into the bedding at either side of your head, and all you can do is gasp— your eyes widening at his proximity.

“You okay?” He whispers, and you nod.

“Yes.”

It’s breathless. It’s not you. It’s not the person who wanted nothing to do with Hyunjin only a day ago, but you want answers. You want clarity. And right now, you want this.

Hyunjin wastes no time after your confirmation, his fingers slipping under your panties and ghosting over your skin. He lets out a harsh breath at the feeling where you’re otherwise silent, trusting that he knows what to do. When a rush of cool air blows over you though, your legs close instinctively, and Hyunjin hums, “Stay with me, bug.”

“I’m here,” You respond, slowly spreading your legs back wide and allowing him to pull your underwear down until they’re hanging off ur ankle, your arousal sticks to the fabric, but with a flick of his wrist they’re gone. They’re gone. Oh god. You’re really doing this. You take a deep breath, and when a warm hand comes to cradle your cheek you lean into the warmth. It’s okay. You’re okay.

Soft lips press against your skin, tainting the unmarked flesh with bites and bruises. He paints your neck purple and blue, fingers ghosting between your thighs, tracing and playing with the obvious wetness coating your arousal. His mouth travels upwards, pressing against your own as he claims your lips in a devouring kiss. Everything is on fire, hot and burning as lust begins to entirely consume you for the first time.

A small moan slips past your lips as he dips a finger into your slick, warm cunt, and you clench around the digit almost immediately as instinct. The cool air and your nerves make your thighs tremble, but it doesn’t seem to affect Hyunjin— not at all— if the way he keeps eye contact with you while he fingers you slowly is any indicator. Painfully slow. You don’t know if this is to help you or torture you, and you can’t help the way your thighs tense under his ministrations.

The man before you reaches his other hand towards the hem of your top to pinch the edge of it between an index finger and thumb, and pulls the cloth away from your skin.

His eyes bore into yours: “This okay?”

“Fuck, the more you ask me the more nervous I get.”

“Okay, okay. I don’t wanna make you nervous.”

“Just… be nice to me, Hyunjin. Okay?”

Hyunjin smiles, and you exhale, relaxing into Hyunjin’s sheets and letting his musky cologne consume your senses as his touch roams everywhere else.

And then finally— yet all too quickly— the shirt is tugged away from your breasts and they fall freely as Hyunjin eagerly leans closer. His nose presses against one of your hardened nipples, and you watch his pupils dilate quicker than you thought was possible. He’s barely holding back the urge to fuck you dumb, and the finger that still thrusts slowly into your cunt stutters in its movements.

Look at you. His eyes roam over the look on your face, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, bright eyes glazed over and hooded in a bliss that’s otherwise foreign to you, a particular ease directed towards him. Then he shamelessly let his eyes drop down to your thighs that tremble even harsher under his gaze. The action only forces his mind to run wild. He can’t help but wonder how you do it— looking all innocent— being all innocent but acting like you’re not. Like you’re so sure. You’re confused, god, you don’t know what real pleasure is— and it’s Hyunjin’s job to teach you. Fuck, did he want to be under you, gazing up at your through half lidded eyes, hungrily eating up the sight of you bouncing on his cock like the slut you could be.

He dipped his head down, holding your breast in his large hand and rubbing over your nipples with his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud. Your hands automatically perched themselves on his shoulders, and he grins, moving the finger thrusting into your cunt harsher, faster.

“Oh, god,” You moan, loud, your grip on his bare shoulders tightening ever so slight. His skin was warm under your fingers— soft and smooth and fuck if it didn’t feel good.

He groans, cock stiffening more than it already had. At this rate he was probably going to cum in his pants untouched, but he held himself back. He wanted to do this right— show you all that pleasure could be. He moved his mouth from your nipple to slip lower, down lower and lower still until he came face to face with your arousal.

“Fuck. You’re driving me crazy.”

“Oh- oh Hyunjin help me, please,” You pleaded, his shoulders too far to grip onto; your hands instead finding his hair, running your fingers through and pulling when he nosed at your clit, groaning heartily when your wetness clinged to his skin.

It’s with a lick to your clit that you wail, your thighs threatening to close, and they would have if Hyunjin’s hands hadn’t reached out to force them down, pushing further and sticking his face into your arousal with more fervor, licking and sucking with such vigor that it felt as if he was trying to devour you. Your thighs trembled with every movement of his tongue, poking and prodding at every inch of your cunt, his nose dug against your clit and for a moment it felt like you were seeing stars. Your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth letting out uncontrollable moans.

You didn’t think it’d feel this good. But, you remind yourself, control feels better. You can’t let him change that— he won’t change that.

The obscene sounds that came from his actions should’ve embarrassed you, but nothing like that came to mind. Hyunjin was relentless, and you couldn’t even think of anything more than the feeling of his hair between your fingers and his tongue slurping at your cunt.

You tried to quiet your moans by clamping a hand over your mouth, but sitting up and watching the way he sucked and licked at your arousal made your head spin. He made the action so nasty. So filthy. He was wild yet careful. But what did you know? All you knew was that it was driving you insane and you didn’t know anything could feel this good.

Besides control, of course. And you assume, the eradication of the CSC would, also.

Suddenly, your stomach tenses, your body locking up, and you quickly cream all over his tongue, shaky moans slipping through your pretty lips. Your thighs shook from the aftershock, trying to come down from this feeling. Afterwards, Hyunjin’s actions felt too harsh. He didn’t change pace at all, but it felt like your body was going to arch its way into oblivion. Unable to ignore the sensitivity of your body any longer, you pushed against his head until he stopped, attempting to catch your breath.

“You okay?”

You hum, begging the beating of your heart to soften, though as soon as it finally did you looked back at Hyunjin and saw his pants sliding down his legs. His toned, muscular legs, and it started its harsh beating once again. That wasn’t it? Of course, that’s wasn’t it, but fuck. You don’t know if you can handle anything more.

The headboard of his bed knocks against the wall as he climbs back up on the bed, moving his body closer this time and instead of only his chest hovering over you, this time his legs cage you in, one on either side, as your heart pounds itself into oblivion.

One hand supported his weight on the pillow by your head while the other was preoccupied, curled around his cock as he stared down at you— something akin to a beast in his gaze. Tip reddened and precum oozing from the slit while he groaned. The tingly feeling in your groin was coming back, similar to the fluttering you always felt whenever Hyunjin would come bother you. It intensifies when Hyunjin wraps your legs around his waist and pulls you closer to him, your body dragging the bedding from under you and you yelp.

He rubs the tip of his cock against your twitching folds, teasing actions feeling more like torture before he finally sinks in. Slowly, deliberately, but you still tense. It’s scary, having something stick itself inside of you.

“Relax,” Hyunjin murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Stay with me.”

You do your best, forcing your body to relax, as he sinks deeper and deeper still. Hyunjin grunts softly when you clench down on him, and he sighs as you blink dazedly up at him.

Pretty eyes are locked intensely on your cunt, Hyunjin watching the slide of his cock as he thrusts inside. His hair is plastered along his sweat slicken forehead, and he sinks back into your slick walls with another languid roll of his hips.

“Fuck you’re so tight, baby.”

You moan, high and light, your eyes fluttering closed in bliss while Hyunjin’s chest expands with a shaky breath. He rolls his hips into yours— sinking his cock into your virgin cunt saying the filthiest words you’ve ever known before his words break off into a moan, his tone lower and deeper than his playful one. Tonight you’re seeing a whole new side of him— a new persona. This isn’t the annoying Hwang Hyunjin who bothers you and calls you ‘bug’, this is the Hwang Hyunjin everyone else knows. The one you hadn’t met yet.

“Oh, please don’t stop— be nice to me,” You babble, your hands grabbing at whatever you can— his shoulders, his back, his hair; and that’s all it takes before he suddenly takes up a pace that’s a little faster, rougher as your pussy squelches, wet and messy while your arousal smears along your thighs and the sheets.

Your body jolts with each thrust, pussy clenching around him as Hyunjin moans—every twitch and squeeze of your pussy leaving him breathless. “Come on, baby,” He pleads, and you don’t know what to do. You’re too lost in the haze of pleasure that’s taken over you— you can’t hear past the slap of your skin and Hyunjin’s groans in your ear. You know you’re moaning, but you can barely hear yourself. It’s all Hyunjin. Him all over you, surrounding you, making you feel good.

He grunts as you clench down on him with another roll of his hips, sinking deeper into you with each thrust. “That’s it, pretty,” he grunts, “Taking me so well, fuck. So greedy for me.” And again, you feel that strange feeling before tensing up, your body convulsing and arching up as Hyunjin’s thrusts grow more frantic— harsher and harsher as he groans gutturally in your ear with one last thrust long and deep, and when something shoots deep inside, you shiver one last time before your body sinks into the mattress and Hyunjin’s weight cases you in.

You feel boneless, lethargic with your movement. You feel when Hyunjin gets off you, when he closes your legs after slipping your underwater back on. You hear it when he sighs, something light and satisfied, and you barely manage to answer when he asks you how you feel. You can’t do much more than sigh, but it seems like enough for him— like that was the exact answer he was looking for. You succumb to blissful sleep right before the door shuts behind Hyunjin.

“Hear me out,” Hyunjin sighs, a lazy smile on his features even still. You’re no joke even if you might not know it yet. “I think it could really work.”

“You want us to convince Y/n to what? Leave us alone or..?” Jeongin says, leaning against the table in the kitchen.

The party has long been over, there’s a mess everywhere but it’s empty except for the eight boys and you knocked out in Hyunjin’s bed. Jisung sits sprawled on the couch, head twisted ever so slightly to betray that he’s listening to the conversation, Jeongin leans against the table and Chan has his arms folded where he leans against the wall serving as the entrance between the kitchen and the living room.

Minho downs a bottle of water by the sink, and Changbin leans against the fridge, leveling Hyunjin with an intense look. Felix and Seungmin sit on the couch opposite Jisung where they have a full view of everything and everyone.

“She barely even knows what porn is, so I said I could convince her the site isn’t that bad— and is something she could grow to like, if not love.” Hyunjin explains, his eyebrows raising in wait for the retaliation that’s sure to come.

“Why should we?” Minho asks, with a swallow, “If she doesn’t like it, honestly what does it matter.” Heads nod in agreement.

“Listen, they’re starting to consider whatever the fuck she’s selling them at those little meetings, and I got an email about investigation if this keeps up. If we fail to change her mind, we can at least distract her enough for the heat to lessen a little.”

Chan nods, “I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” He shrugs, looking over at everyone in the kitchen. “We change her mind, then we got one less problem to deal with.”

“And if we don't?” Changbin asks, tilting his head at both Hyunjin and Chan. “And if this is just a waste of time?”

“It isn’t,” Hyunjin assures, “Trust me.”

The rest of them don’t argue, but Hyunjin feels Seungmin’s gaze boring into him from the couch, feels his questions burning at the tip of his tongue, begging to be let out, so he leaves before they can succeed.

“We can talk about it more later, but I think it’ll work. It’s a good deed, and I know how much you guys love those.” Some scoffs and laughs fill the room, but Hyunjin is already halfway up the stairs, a plan forming in his mind and a pleasant smile growing on his face.

a note from iris: this chapter was late because of that long ass smut scene so i hope it was enjoyable and that this wasn’t 17k worth of a snoozefest 😭 i’m sorry it’s late!! so sorry but it’s still friday even if it’s 11 pm <3<3 not beta read not nothin so pls.. spare me.. and i hope you liked it !!!

not-so-mini taglist (there’s so many of y’all !!???): @chrisbahng @seonghwatoothless @bubblelixie @199719932000 @imsuchasimp00 @hyu-hl @oddinaryfelix @raspbinniecreme @fa3body @kittykatkrissa @andreaswrld @hattorihaechan @lachinitaaaaa @j-0ne25 @bangchanbabygirlx @ni-sh @green-orangeade @sincerely-skz @exclusivej3ss @elizalabs3 @lili-kims-blog @curiousgworge @midsoulz @sawadabegum @reighlee-greaves @lotus-dly @blcar @impossiblewritingrebel @yourhwngness @idek-at-this-point-lol @multihoe-net @hyun-bun @hwan-g @ughbehavior @rindomo @awesomelycoolworld @springdeity @todolyn @meowminhosblog @hyunelixies @emotionalwreckkk-blog @seungschacco @avyskai @cvfechan @jeyelleohe @vvsmydiamonds127 @chriscentric @simpforpunzngl @be-a-spacequeen @svintsandghosts @myjisung @hanjiesgf

*** if your tag didn’t work make sure your blog is visible! if i somehow missed you when tagging i offer a sincere apology <3

#hyunjin scenarios #skz smut #skz scenarios #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x female reader #hyunjin smut #hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #skz x reader

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back2bluesidex · 1 year

Text

Like Crazy - A lightning Sequel - PJM (18+)

Pairing: Heartthrob!Jimin X Fem!Reader

Word count: 1855

Summary: Jimin wants to make you his and he will get in done tonight.

Theme: PWIP (porn with a little plot), SMUT (MDNI!)

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, panty stuffing, panty sniffing, sex on a car bonnet, Jimin is horney, mentions of betting, unprotected sex (don't try this at home), creampie.

Part 1: Lightning

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

It all started as a bet.

One lazy afternoon, when Jimin and his friends were casually hanging out in the cafeteria and whining about lack of entertainment in their lives, that's when Jungkook piped in with an idea.

"Let's bet." Jungkook had said.

"Bet on what?" Taehyung enquired.

"Jimin hyung's charms" Jungkook smirked.

"What do you want now?" Jimin whined.

"The first girl that walks in through the door within the next hour, you have to fuck her. Within a month." Jungkook said, "If you manage to do so, the next summer vacation will be on me."

Taehyung groans as if he is very much disappointed with the younger's advances, "Jungkook, are you a dick head? Is that even a reasonable bet? Jimin can fuck her tomorrow if he wants." Now it's the time when Jimin smirks.

"Don't be so impairment. There's a condition." Jungkook defended himself.

"What condition?" Jimin asked.

"You can't approach the girl. She has to approach you and ask you to fuck her." Jungkook placed the condition.

"As if that's any harder." Jimin smirked again.

"Let's see…" Taehyung trailed off, "your one hour starts now."

The next five minutes were quiet. Nobody came into the cafeteria given the fact that lunch time ended an hour ago and most of the students had classes now. But then they heard the glass door of the cafeteria being pushed. That's when you came to their view, to Jimin's view.

You were nothing extraordinary, a pair of baggy jeans with a hoodie, that's all. But Jimin swore under his breath that you're one of the prettiest girls he has ever laid his eyes on. How come he never saw you on campus before? If he really gets to win this bet, it will be a win-win situation for him.

"Jimin likes her." Taehyung commented observing that Jimin's eyes had been stuck on the mystery girl for more than usual.

"She's pretty but the question is… is she easy?" Jimin said scanning your appearance for once. You suddenly looked up from your laptop and your eyes met with him.

Jimin is usually very polite, maybe he is spoiled but he has basic decency. He would always smile or bow when his eyes met with his peers or classmates or anyone for that matter. But something happened when your eyes locked with his. He couldn't smile. He only steared. It's impossible to fathom down the depth of your eyes as you two were sitting quite far away from each other, but for some reason he knew, your eyes were captivating. And then you looked away. And the game began.

For the next twenty days Jimin kept on following you everywhere you went. He totally enjoyed the shocked expression your face would produce every single time you crossed paths with him. He kept on waiting for you to approach him, finally confront him but you did nothing. You seemed to shake it off every time. For the first couple of days, Jimin was scared of being embarrassed in front of his friends. What would they say if they knew a girl from nowhere had been shaking off Park Jimin's advances. But for the rest of the days, Jimin was intrigued.

You clearly know your place. You know you're no match for heartthrob Park Jimin. And Jimin hasn't met a single person who seemed to know how not to cross the line. That's what keeps pulling Jimin towards you again and again.

A month went away within a blink and you still didn't approach him but Jimin has fucked the bet for a long time now. Now he wants you. He wants to know you. He wants to know why you never gave up to him.

Tonight seems to be the perfect chance for the same. You look fucking sexy in your little black dress. And not to mention, you look quite annoyed with the guy that's been flirting with you. So Jimin doesn't miss the chance when you try to get away from the annoying guy. He somehow managed to pull you to the dance floor as well thoroughly enjoying the expression on your face.

As soon as your bodies touch, he got to inhale your scent and fuck you smell spicy. He is sick of floral and fruity scents that girls always wear. You're definitely different and he likes it.

But what he likes more is the taste of your juices. God! How come he couldn't get you under him all these times? Jimin swears, he will make you his tonight and won't stop until the sun comes up.

"I'll drop you home" Jimin pulls you towards the exit. Hands linked with each other, steps matching, heels clicking, everything feels agonizingly exciting to Jimin. He can't help but wonder if you feel the same too.

Fuck! He wants you like crazy!

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

Jimin harshly pulls you towards the parking lot of the club. You stumble upon your heels two times already but you don't care. You have been waiting for this for a long time now and you didn't even know that you were actually waiting for it. It was a daydream but seeing it taking the shape of reality is completely different.

You keep on staring at his back and don't even realize when you reach Jimin's sleek black car. Jimin turns towards you and pulls you flash towards him, "fuck it! I can't wait anymore!"

That's all you hear before you feel Jimin's plump lips on yours. His kisses are nothing sort of soft, it's harsh, full of longing and hunger. You kiss him back without wasting any time. He keeps on backing you off until the back of your knees touch the cold metal body of Jimin's car.

Jimin pushes his body more onto yours. Once again you feel his bulge on your stomach.

He sucks your lower lip as his fingers push the hem of your dress higher. His cold fingers are still sticky with your arousal earlier. He runs the fingertip of his index finger through your fold once, you shudder with the touch as if he is touching you for the first time all over again.

Jimin parts your folds with his index finger and thumb. And then press on to your clit with the pad of his thumb.

You bite on his lower lip, as a result and he breaks the kiss, "you're so responsive, I love it." Jimin murmurs, connecting his forehead with yours. Two of his fingers effortlessly pump onto you while he turns your body towards the car.

Placing a palm on your back he pushes your upper body down on the bonnet of his car, "as much as I would love to fuck you on my bed, but I just can't wait anymore. I need you now. Will you let me fuck you here in the parking lot against my car, baby?"

You muffled a yes somehow against the car metal. Jimin pushes the hem of your dress higher and he gets the exclusive view of your plump ass. He curses under his breath because of the delicious view. He slides his fingers out of your leaking cunt. Placing both of his hands on the back of your thighs, Jimin parts your legs and gets a view of your cunt, leaking juices.

"You would taste delicious. But that's for the later part of the night." Jimin says. He pulls out your discarded panty from the back of his pants and smells it once. You see it all from the corner of your eyes and your core leaks more because of the obscene scene.

"Open your mouth baby" Jimin orders. You obey him without a word. He stuffs your panty in your mouth and grabs you by your neck.

"We don't want people to hear us, yeah?" He asks, you nod. And then you hear belts shuffling, zip opening. You try your best to tilt your head to get a view but he holds you tight in your place.

"Later, I promise. Right now I need to be inside you or I will burst." Jimin says in a low register. And then you feel the tip of his dick brushing through your fold. Your breath gets stuck in your throat. Your moans get muffled because of the material of your undergarment.

Jimin lines his cock on your entrance and pushes only the tip inside. He waits for a moment so that you can permit him to go. You take the cue and nod a little. Within a second he pushes his entire length inside. You let out another loud muffled moan.

"You okay?" Jimin asks, voice a little soft. You nod again and he takes it as the cue to move faster.

He starts thrusting slowly but then takes up a quicker pace.

"I have been waiting to ruin you from the first time my eyes landed on you." Jimin says between the thrusts.

"Tell me what do you have huh? Why do you keep pulling me towards you?" His thrusts find a rhythmic pace.

"Fucking hell! You're so goddamn tight! But you take me so fucking well! Your hungry cunt eats my cock so good, baby. As if this cunt was made for me." He hits your g-spot and you arch your back because of the pleasure Park Jimin is providing you with.

Jimin feels so good, his thick cock stretching you out, is a different level of pleasure. You would do anything to get this again and again.

Jimin's pelvis hits your ass and that lewd sound works as a catalyst to the entire scenario.

"This pussy! Oh god! This pussy is mine! All mine!" Jimin's voice is husky now and those words coming out of his mouth make you clench around his cock. Jimin feels it too.

"You gonna cum already?" He asks, you nod while letting another muffled moan out.

"Cum on me. Cream my cock Y/N" it sounds like an order and you can't help the coil from bursting anymore. You cum on his cock as his breath becomes uneven. His dick twitches inside you signaling that he is close too.

The thrusts lose their rhythm and become more and more rigid. You know he is gonna cum and he needs to cum because you're gonna faint with this much overstimulation.

Within a few moments Jimin cums too, shooting rope of cum inside you. With one last thrust he pushes his seed in your cunt and then pulls his softening dick out.

You breathe heavily. Your limbs are about to give up. You would have fallen down if it wasn't for the car. Your chest hurts for being pressed down for too long. You try to remove the panty from your mouth but before you can do so, Jimin does it. He takes your panty and uses that to clean his cum running down your thigh and his dick.

And then he pulls you up, directly to his chest. His softened dick touches your belly.

"Let's continue at my place. What do you say?"

Now who are you to deny Park Jimin?

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

A/N: Am I thinking of making a part 3? Maybe... Maybe not... Maybe if you guys want it...

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @lovelysneer @screamertannie @alleycatmimi @minijagiya @dontcallmeelle @whatthefsposts @chimmy-licious @whipwhoop

#bts smut #jimin smut #jimin x reader #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin x you #bts scenario

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pakhnokh · 1 year

Text

Wei Wuxian not knowing about the Lan Forehead Ribbon in "House of Gentians"

What LWJ says in this part is the HoG-verse assumption regarding WWX not knowing the meaning of the forehead ribbon. The idea/opinion is mine, it's how I see it based on my reading, so it might not be true! But this is the setting for HoG nonetheless.

Please take into consideration that this is me explaining the technical behind the scenes of my thought process to make these pages. I base my work on the novel and what is written there only. This is not me trying to explain the novel, but only what I, as a creator of an AU, thought that I can use for it to work.

So please, read till the end and if you have your own insights to share, do it!

So what is the explanation for Wei Wuxian not knowing the meaning of the ribbon and finding it out in canon? We have 2 versions.

Novel version (also Manhua and audio drama): WWX doesn’t know the meaning of the forehead ribbon, and the cause is unknown. He learns about it from the Lan juniors in his second life.

Donghua version: The source of information about the ribbon is the Lan rule book, and WWX copied that part wrong. Only in his second life, when he flipped through LWJ’s notes, he found the mistake and the correct meaning written by LWJ.

I believe donghua had its own reasons to bend the plot this way (especially since censorship laws would forbid presenting the meaning of the ribbon so straightforwardly fearing the possibility of hinting on wangxian relationship, so showing it as one second shot of a notebook with tons of text was a good choice on their part to both deal with the censorship and still maintain the main idea).

HoG-verse follows the novel, therefore it does not assume that WWX knew, or could know the meaning of the ribbon from the Lan rules. We don’t even know if it’s IN the Lan rules. According to the novel, WWX had to copy about four fifths of the entire Lan rule book, see here:

And we do know that WWX remembered quite a lot of the rules, as he says to Jin Ling in the temple:

(In fact WWX is shown as someone with good memory, especially of things he read. He excels in his class in CR showing that he knows a lot of stuff compared to his classmates, he remembered phrases he read once from Wen Mao’s book,and he remembers the Lan rules he copied many times).

I also don’t think he has “selective memory” cause the only times WWX was shown as forgetting something (as far as I recall) is the times he was feverish (Tulu Xuanwu cave, forgetting the song the LWJ played to him) and devastated/not caring about what’s going on around him (after the massacre on Nightless City, after his Shijie died, didn’t remember LWJ saving him and confessing to him).

In both cases, he eventually remembers. He remembers by himself the song LWJ played in the end of the novel, and about the events of Nightless City, when LXC tells him about what happened, he admits that his memory is clouded:

Meaning he eventually recalls the things he forgot. This is opposed to his reaction when he finds out about the Lan ribbon from the Lan juniors. It’s really something he hears for the first time. If WWX really copied this from the rule book and forgot, he should’ve remembered it at this point, but he’s too surprised, excited and embarrassed.

PLUS, if WWX had copied the meaning of the forehead ribbon from the Lan rule book, I don’t think he would forget it. He always thought the Lans to be strict, boring and uptight, so such a “juicy” piece of information would by no means go unnoticed by him. He’d use this info to tease the hell out of young LWJ hahaha…notice how he is surprised that the Lans could have a romantic side:

ANYWAYS this is just to show that the donghua version isn’t exactly possible in novel-verse.

In fact, in the novel, WWX does know only one meaning of the forehead ribbon, or maybe its purpose:

Maybe THIS was what he read in the Lan Rule book, but it’s still not as in the donghua, where he eventually came to know that the ribbon is supposed to be given to one’s fated other. If this knowledge about the ribbon being a tool for self-regulation was what he learned from the Lan book, then he is still left in the dark because he suspects there is another meaning to the ribbon and he just doesn’t know it:

According to these parts, it doesn’t seem that WWX knew and forgot, but that he really didn’t know the whole story behind the ribbon. Again, his reaction is very strong:

Again, this is different from him realizing that his memory was clouded after the events of Nightless City. This is REALLY something he NEVER knew. Anyways back to the conversation with the juniors, where WWX finds the truth, LSZ tells that:

Apparently this meaning of the ribbon is something that was passed down the generations. We don’t know if it was passed down by script or orally, or both, but it is something that has turned into a custom for the Lans.

And since it is a major custom in such a major sect such as theirs, I believe that it was known among other sects too.

There’s the opinion that this meaning of the forehead ribbon was known to Lans only, but I personally don’t think so, because the Lans themselves had no problem of telling about it to outsiders.

Recall the text I added before where JL says to WWX that he learned its meaning:

And also, LSZ and LJY have no problem revealing it to WWX, who they still think is Mo Xuanyu at this point.

Also, in his first life, back on Phoenix Mountain, it seems that LXC was willing to tell WWX the meaning:

(ok this is personally my head canon but I think that LWJ stopped LXC from revealing the meaning of the ribbon because he kinda lowkey wanted WWX to continue touching/asking to touch it, and was afraid that by learning what the ribbon means, WWX would feel ashamed and stop. I mean, if I was LWJ and my crush would constantly touch or ask to touch the object that is supposed to be given to my fated other I’D DEVELOP HOPES AND THINK WHAT IF THIS IS FATE??? And eventually I’d want it to become true. :’) )

Anyways back to the matter at hand, the Lans seem to have no problem telling others what’s the meaning of the ribbon is. I also don’t think that taking one’s ribbon off has an immediate sexual association. IT CAN HAVE, AND IT IS, but it’s not the main idea of it, in my opinion. It’s an object that’s supposed to be given only to the other’s beloved no matter in which situation. Meaning, that the moment they are together, or wed, the moment they know they love each other, then it gives the fated person the validity to touch the ribbon. If it had a solely sexual association then I guess this scene wouldn’t happen:

LWJ enters a wine shop without his forehead ribbon, and WWX plays with it. You can say that this is them acting SUPERRRR shamelessly, but I really believe there’s nothing so scandalizing about it. LWJ feels comfortable giving him the ribbon because they are finally together. WWX accepted his feelings, and therefore, LWJ can take it off and give it to him, and (correct me if I’m wrong) nowhere is it mentioned that it’s something that’s supposed to be done only at the couple’s private chambers.

(That’s also why I felt confident enough to have LWJ remove his ribbon and tie it on WWX in front of everyone at the inn, even though it DID have a strong meaning of letting go of self regulation, but in my eyes this was possible also because WWX is his beloved one, even though his feelings aren’t returned yet.)

ANYWAYS it seems that the Lans have no problem telling about the meaning to outsiders, because (in my eyes) there’s really nothing TOO sensitive about the fact that the meaning of the ribbon is that you can give it only to your loved one. I don’t think it’s THAT grave to be kept a secret from the world. On the contrary, in a world such as theirs, which is built on honor and respect to customs and traditions, I guess it’s important for others to know about such a custom, if only so that they’d know not to touch the ribbon accidentally or on purpose, to avoid offending the Lan member. (I don’t know if it’s true but in my eyes the Lans make this ceremony of giving their ribbon to their loved one on their wedding hehehe so yeah, I do imagine that if outsiders attended a Lan wedding, they’d see this custom happening).

And as I believe happened in all periods of our real world, that there were books and records written about history, cultures and traditions of peoples, the same exists in MDZS verse. I believe that there would exist books and records about the history and customs of different sects, and I think that it's not impossible that the meaning of the Lan forehead ribbon is also mentioned briefly somewhere in a book about the Lan Clan/Sect, or elsewhere.

And this finally brings me to this page of HoG that LWJ asks Wei Wuxian this question. WWX wants to know the meaning of the ribbon for the first time, after so many times of touching or wanting to touch it.

I think that younger LWJ didn’t even KNOW that WWX doesn’t know the meaning of the ribbon. Hell, in his eyes it could have been just another malicious prank done by this shameless boy who has no respect. Maybe only later did LWJ realize that WWX really didn’t know the meaning.

Hearing WWX’s question finally being asked, LWJ isn’t ready to answer him yet. He gave him the ribbon, yes, but it was something he did as a statement to his Shishu and others. As I mentioned before, he didn’t give WWX his ribbon during their wedding, nor after it. Because he knows that WWX doesn’t return his feelings and that this marriage isn’t really out of love.

That’s why he isn’t willing to answer his question right away. Instead, he just teases WWX by answering with a question of his own. And since WWX brought their past, with how he touched his ribbon and was rejected, LWJ also brings his perspective on the past - like, how could you do all that, and not even know what’s the meaning of what you do?

LWJ was a student with WWX in cloud recesses and heard how he answered all questions correctly and fast. WWX was outstanding compared to his classmates, showing that he did some reading. LOL as I was making this there was this picture of WWX’s room running on twitter, and I really loved that private library/study corner he had there with tons of books.

It was clear that WWX did read about the cultivation world, including random sects’ history, traditions etc. This is where I’m sure that such a book would exist about the Lan Sect too.

And LWJ asks him if he didn’t read anything about the Lans as he was reading about all other sects. What’s the answer to that? In HoG-verse, I guess WWX missed this information somehow. He really didn’t know the meaning of the ribbon from any source, and he still doesn’t know.

BUT HE’S GONNA FIND OUT I PROMISE HEHEHE SO….there you have it! This is HoG’s version of dealing with the forehead ribbon matter, where WWX stayed alive and dared raise the question before HGJ himself.

ANOTHER IMPORTANT NOTE

I need to clarify one more thing, guys. This isn't me stating an idea about the novel, this is me sharing my thought process in order to make my AU work. Let me explain:

Even if the info about the Lan ribbon is written in the rule book, I couldn't be sure about that because it isn't specified in a clear manner. The only certain source for that is the donghua, which, as I'm sure you can understand, I can't use since it made many changes to the original story. I couldn't be sure if the info about the ribbon in the Lan rule book is a canon possibility or a donghua way of dealing with the plot. So, I DO NOT OPPOSE the idea that the info is in the Lan rule book! But I just needed clear evidence to work with.

LWJ was not about to answer WWX's question in that instant. He wanted to ask him back - just how come he didn't know?

So imagine me having to think about the text (and believe me I put a lot of thinking hahaha), I couldn't make LWJ say "Didn't you copy it in the rules? How could you miss it?" because again, I couldn't be 100% sure it WAS in fact canon that it's written in the rules.

So I made the decision to make him require about WWX's studious character which does 2 things:

based on my assumption that some knowledge about the Lan ribbon was available to the public because it seems to me that the Lans themselves are surprised that WWX doesn't know. imagine that this is like others know not to offer alcohol to the Lans so to not offend them. I'm sure that some basic knowledge about the ribbon was available to the public too, again, from courtesy reasons.

LWJ asking WWX this is my way of making it show that his character DID notice and DOES acknowledge WWX's intelligence. their studying in Gusu days was a chaos of LWJ avoiding WWX or giving him the cold shoulder. >This< LWJ however takes that unfortunate past experience and by this slight sarcastic reply shows WWX that he in fact noticed and appreciated WWX's smart and studious character.

So once again I stress out the fact that this is me creating this idea (which can be untrue!) out of technical reasons to make not only the AU in general work, but also THIS SPECIFIC moment of LWJ answering WWX without telling him the meaning.

#house of gentians #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #Lan Sect #Lan Forehead ribbon #LONG POST

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i-am-church-the-cat · 1 month

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logan's pov on the soulmate au? 👀🙏

😌🕶️🤏🏼😎

Logan had grown up dreading meeting his soulmate. His parents were soulmates and had gotten married less than a year after they met. Dalton didn't have a soulmark and his parents always treated it like it was some tragedy. They always told Logan that the day he met his soulmate would be the happiest of his life, that he would fall in love with her immediately and never want to be with anyone else.

That was a problem for two reasons. 1) he didn't think he liked girls enough to want to be around one all the time. And 2) he was always moving around and leaving for karting. Racing was his true love, he didn't have time for a soulmate on top of that.

Despite all of that, his parents hadn't been entirely wrong. Logan knew immediately when he met his soulmate (who was a boy and not a girl, just like he had told them) but he didn't feel any differently about him than he did any of his other friends.

As they got older and got closer, Logan realized how important Oscar really was to him. He'd never had anyone that he could count on to always be there for him. Oscar was that person for him, and he clung onto him like a lifeline. He's glad Oscar didn't seem to mind.

They got older though and Logan got a bit more independent. The day that his parents would claim to be the worst day of his life wasn't actually that bad.

"I think I want to ask Lily out," Oscar said, looking seriously into the phone screen.

"Lily Zneimer? Your classmate?" Logan asks, looking up from the homework they were doing. Though Oscar and Logan were close, Oscar went to a different school in a different town. It wouldn't take long to get there but since they saw each other most weekends anyway, they didn't bother. "That sounds good, dude, what's the issue?" He asks, cause he could feel that something was bothering Oscar.

"You wouldn't be mad?" The younger boy asked, looking worried.

Logan paused and thought about it. Everything his parents told him tells him he should be mad. But he isn't. If Oscar likes a girl, he should ask her out. Logan wants him to be happy. And the little place in the back of his head that is distinctly Oscar tells him that nothing would ever take the other boy away from him. Logan didn't have to worry about being left behind when it came to Oscar.

"Of course not. If you like her, go for it."

He felt and saw Oscar relax and the younger boy gave him a small smile through the screen. "You know, you can date someone, too, if you want."

"Yeah maybe," Logan says, shrugging the idea off. Over the last couple of years Logan has realized he doesn't have the desire to date and fall in love like the rest of his classmates do, like Oscar does. He wants to be loved and accepted by his friends and family, he wants to race and be the best that he can. He doesn't need another person to do that with, though.

Logan haltingly tries to explain this to Oscar but the boy stops him.

"I get it, mate, I can feel you, too, you know? If you don't ever want to date anybody, that's cool."

Logan gives his friend and soulmate a smile, falling into the easy acceptance that has always been a part of their relationship.

"Well, when you and Lily get married and have tons of kids, I'll be the fun uncle with 3 dogs and a yacht."

"Shut up, Logan," Oscar says, blushing bright red. Logan can't help but laugh at him.

"Logan can you get the bread out of the oven, please?" Lily asks as soon as she hears him walk through the door.

"Yes ma'am," Logan says, dropping a kiss on Lily's cheek as he walks by, grabbing the oven mitts where he knows they'll be. It's been a year since Lily and Oscar got this apartment together and between races and sleepovers, Logan feels like he's here more than his own apartment.

"You're late," Oscar says, coming in from the balcony where he was taking a call. Logan just smiles at him, the same smile Oscar always says makes him look like a puppy. Oscar shakes his head and leans down to kiss Lily before slapping Logan on the shoulder in greeting.

"How has your day been, Lo?" Lily asks, moving things around on the table to make space for the bread tray.

"It was good, Elias and I spent most of it training." Oscar shudders at the mention of physical exercise during the off-season and Logan laughs.

They sit down to eat, Oscar and Lily on one side and Logan on the other, and Logan listens as Lily talks about her newest project at work. Despite being around engineers all day, most of it goes over his head, and he can tell it goes over Oscar's too. Still, he's got experience at this point, and knows when to ask all the right questions.

After dinner, Oscar and Lily end up bickering over the dishes, Logan as a "guest" being relegated to the couch. He watches in amusement at the fight, the warm feeling of acceptance and domesticity washing over him.

His parents haven't stopped nagging him about getting a boyfriend and Dalton still tries to set him up every time he's in town. But really, this is all Logan needs.

#haha surprise aromantic logan!#that's right i'm self-projecting on the sweet blonde boy again surprise surprise #okay this is the final installment guys i think i am done with this series #sorry sorry #logan sargeant #oscar piastri #lily zneimer #there needs to be more fics where logan and lily are friends #oscar/lily #loscar #soulmate au #platonic soulmates #f1 rpf #my fic #my writing #anon ask

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pearl-star · 2 months

Text

It's Not My Job

I had written and had this story finished back in August of last year, but just never got around to posting it. I revisited it again yesterday and decided to just go ahead and post it. It's crossed posted to my AO3 if if you would prefer reading it there, here's the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54107548. (Also, fair warning, this fic is 10K words long. I didn't feel like dividing it up into different chapters so here it is in its entirely.

Summary: After becoming too stressed out from her class rep duties, Marinette talks to the other class reps about the work she’s been doing, hoping for some help. In a few moments, she discovers that none of the work she’s been assigned to do is what she should be doing as class rep. And when she goes to Miss Bustier only for her teacher to threaten her, her friends and family finally decide that enough is enough and take the issue to the higher ups.

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

Marinette was on her last legs. The swell of akumas over the past month was bad enough, but the extra work that came with it just made her life so much harder. On top of her regular school work and make-up work from missed classes, she had to handle her class rep duties as well. She had to be an example, help her classmates when Chloe acted up, check essays and homework, and do her other general class rep tasks.

Not only that, but she had to hatch out a whole plan for the class trip. Not just a general idea but the specifics of where they would stay, the exact activities they would do, how they would get there and travel around, and so on. She also had to plan out the fundraising activities, and had to do enough of them otherwise she would have to put in the rest of the money herself. Chloe had no issues with that in the past, but she was also rich. Marinette couldn’t exactly use her parent’s credit card to get it all situated.

Alya, by her sense of duty as both her friend and class deputy, tried helping her out but for some reason wasn’t allowed. She could help instruct people once the plans were made, but she couldn’t be a part of the planning process. Otherwise, according to Miss Bustier, the plans would have to be redone completely. The blogger had suggested working on it together secretly, but Marinette was hesitant. She didn’t want to risk Miss Bustier finding out and for her to demand that the plans had to be redone. So for now, the bluenette was working on her own.

Everyone in class had noticed the toll the extra work was doing on her. She barely made it to class on time and was always the last to leave. Her bookbag was stuffed with papers with notes and plans. She always had her shoulders slumped, like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, and her eye bags were barely being covered by her makeup. She never smiled unless Miss Bustier told her to be a better example, in which case she would stitch on a mechanical smile similar to that of Adrien’s model smile.

The model, for his part, was freaking out over the fact that the sweetest and most happy girl in class (besides Rose, who is just a sparkling ball of pink, glittery sunshine) was struggling. He went so far as to get her coffee order from Alya and made sure to bring one in daily, as well as leave a thermos of heavily sugared black tea on her desk after lunch. The fact that Marinette wasn’t reacting to Adrien’s actions with anything more than a thank you, with no stuttering or blush in sight, proved how tired she really was.

Marinette’s sole goal was to catch up with all of this work as fast as she could, otherwise she would get behind again and be stuck in this loop forever. So when she was asked to attend a lunch out with the other class reps, she hesitated. She didn’t really have time to do much of anything. Even patrols had been cut down, something her partner had insisted on when she almost fell off a building when she zoned out mid jump. Still, maybe they could help her.

Miss Bustier had said that planning the class trip and all that was only the job of the class rep, so her getting advice from the other class reps shouldn’t be against the rules. So Marinette found herself that Friday walking to the cafe where Aurora said to meet. Once she got there, the weather girl waved her over to an open chair next to her.

As she walked over, she looked at the group. Marinette knew who most of the class reps were, but never got the chance to talk to any of them. Some were in the art club with her, but they tended not to discuss class rep duties there.

“Sorry I’m late.” The bluenette apologized, sliding into the empty chair. “I had to show Miss Bustier my progress for the class trip.”

There was silence, and then.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, my plans for the class trip. I’ve narrowed it down to a place and found a hotel that we could stay at, but I still need to figure out travel plans and the exact activities.” Marinette looked at the confused faces around her. Then a thought came to mind. “Am I late on this too?! Miss Bustier only brought it up to me at the end of last month, so I thought that I had plenty of time still but-”

“No it’s not that.” Kimberly said, cutting Marinette off from her panic. “It’s just that… class reps don’t plan out their class trips.”

Marinette blinked at the news. She had been class rep for the past two years. The first year, she didn’t have to be as in depth with the class trip. She proposed a general trip idea, fundraising ideas, and helped coordinate the fundraisers, but this year Miss Bustier said that class reps had to be more hands-on with the trip. The teacher had even given her a packet on the new rules.

“What do you mean? Yes they do. It’s in the newest handbook.”

“What handbook?”

Marinette dug in her book bag before pulling out the packet and handing it to Claude. He flipped through the pages, scanning them while a few other class reps looked over his shoulders. As he read, his frown deepened.

“This isn’t right. The handbook has been updated last year, but not in this way. It actually had deputies taking on more of the load to help lessen the stress of class reps, as well as a newly added duty to help plan out relaxation days throughout the year to try and lessen the chance of akumas during testing weeks. Where did you get this from?”

“Miss Bustier gave it to me and explained it all. She did say how class reps were now responsible for helping to lower the class’s stress.”

All of the class reps looked at each other, before Aurora finally spoke up.

“Marinette… I don’t know why Miss Bustier gave this to you, but it isn’t right. I don’t have the handbook on me right now but there is one in Ms. Meedeveli’s classroom that I can show you once we get back to the school.”

Marinette paused, before nodding and thanking the weather girl. Slowly the conservation changed to something else, but the bluenette’s mind couldn’t stop from drifting. Why would Miss Bustier give her the wrong packet? Maybe the school had made this version and then changed it, but didn’t inform the teacher of the change. Marinette did become class rep for the first time last year, so it is possible that Miss Bustier went and asked for the newest handbook early so that she could have it at the start of her role.

The pigtailed girl was finally able to relax. That had to be it. Miss Bustier thought that this was the correct version and just didn’t know. Once she gets the new copy, they can figure out how planning for the school trip should really go.

After lunch she walked back to school with all of the reps, and then split off from the group as she followed Aurora to Ms. Meedeveli’s room. The science teacher was already in the room, working on writing something on the board for the lesson later on.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Meedeveli. Do you have a copy of the class rep handbook?”

“Good afternoon to you too, and yes I do. It’s over on the wall next to the classroom rules.”

“Do you think Marinette can borrow it for the afternoon? There was a bit of a mix-up with the handbook in her homeroom.”

The teacher stiffened at that, and Marinette was worried that she would say no. Instead, once the woman realized the bluenette’s eyes on her, she shook her head.

“Go ahead. And feel free to keep it in your homeroom, Marinette. I can pick up another copy later. Just let me know if you need anything else.”

Once Aurora handed her a packet, a by far smaller one than the previous one, Marinette nodded.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Meedeveli. I’ll see you later in class.”

She gave her thanks to the blonde as well before walking out of the room, looking over the packet. She was in such a rush that she didn’t notice the usually strict teacher give her a look of pity.

As Marinette read through the packet, she felt less and less stressed already. It was definitely much different than the one she was given, and would absolutely help her catch up on all her other activities. Without having to plan the class trip, she would have so much more freetime. All she would have to do is tell Miss Bustier of the mix up and then she’ll be good.

She decided to wait until after school though, since class was about to start and she didn’t want to be the reason they had more makeup work. However, once class was over and she talked to Miss Bustier, she got a rude surprise.

“What do you mean this packet is wrong? I got this from Ms. Meedeveli’s room. All the other class reps said that the handbook you gave me was the wrong one.”

“Yes, the other class reps have a different handbook, but you need to follow the one I gave you. You’re my star student, Marinette. You can handle more work.”

“I can’t though.” Marinette nearly cried, before composing herself. “I’m really struggling with just homework with all the akumas interrupting class time. And the handbook you gave me said that Alya can’t even help me with all of these extra duties. I’m gonna fall behind at this rate.”

“Now Marinette, that would be your own fault. You need to manage your time better. Also you do need to help prevent akumas. That thing in the other handbook we can include in ours. I want you to plan a destressing activity for the class to do by the end of next week. We can do a different one every week to keep things different.”

Upon hearing that more work was being put onto her, she opened her mouth to refuse before being silenced.

“I really wouldn’t want to have a talk with your parents about you becoming a problem to our classroom, so make sure to keep up your good job as class rep okay?”

Miss Bustier was… threatening her? The bluenette was so shocked that she could only nod, numbly leaving the classroom. As soon as she turned the corner, she bumped into Alya.

“Oh. Hi, Alya.”

“Marinette… did Miss Bustier really say that?”

It was then that Marinette realized how shaken up her friend was.

“What do you mean?”

“She really-” Alya started, before looking at the direction to the classroom door in contemplation. It seemed like she made a decision, as she pulled Marinette away.

“We’re telling your parents. I can’t believe she said that to you.”

The bluenette got a sense of dread with Alya’s suggestion, realizing that Alya had heard some if not all of the conversation she just had. The reminder of Miss Bustier’s earlier threat rang in her mind.

“No. Miss Bustier-”

“She’s forcing you to do more work. Quite frankly, I was about to ‘accidentally’ hide some of the work I’ve been doing for the class trip in with your notes so that you’d actually be able to get some sleep. But now? I can’t just sit by and let this happen to my best friend.”

“But my parents won’t believe me.”

“Don’t you have both packets? Show that to your parents. Besides, it's the entire class’s words against Miss Bustier. Your parents will believe us.”

Marinette still didn’t like the sound of it. She’d never gone against her teacher before. But Alya was hard to stop once she got an idea in her head, so the bluenette was dragged to the bakery.

Her mom was handling the counter, and was finishing up checking out a customer. Once they left, she finally noticed them.

“Good afternoon girls. Feel free to take a pastry on your way up.”

“Actually Mlle. Cheng, we need to speak to you about something.”

“What is it?”

Alya nudged Marinette forward, but when it was clear that she wasn’t going to talk, Alya took charge. She grabbed the two different class rep handbooks, walking forward and giving them to the women.

“Miss Bustier has been forcing Marinette to take on more work as class rep. When Marinette asked her about it, she threatened to call you two up and tell you that she’s causing issues.”

Sabine blinked at Alya’s words, before her confusion was swapped for a blank stare. Her eyes shifted from the packets in her hands to her daughter.

“Marinette, is this true?”

“We-Well I mean, I’m sure Miss Bustier didn’t really mean-”

“Marinette. Please tell me the truth.”

Yep. Her mom was definitely mad at her. She sighed and decided to just take the bullet.

“It’s true, but I-”

“What has she been making you do?”

Marinette flinched at the anger sounding clearly in her mother’s tone. She looked down at her hands. Alya kept a hand on her shoulder to try and calm her. When it was clear that the bluenette had no intention of speaking, the blogger took over.

“She’s been forced to plan the whole class trip by herself. Where we’re going, the hotel we’re staying in, activities we’re doing, the exact travel plans, fundraising, all of that. I wasn’t even allowed to do any of the planning process with her.”

“Anything else?”

“I had to help with grading some things.” Marinette finally added, sighing in defeat. “I also had to help when Chloe acted up.” She leaned back into Alya’s touch, causing the redhead to wrap her arm around her and give her a tight squeeze.

Sabine looked between the two girls and then back at the packets in her hands. She frowned in thought at the clear size difference between the two.

“I’d take it that this is the real one?” She asked, holding up the smaller packet.

“That’s the one that the other class reps use. I got it from Ms. Meedevelei this afternoon.”

“I’m gonna look these over during my break. That will be in… thirty minutes. For now I think you two should grab a treat and relax upstairs. Would you two be okay staying here in case I need to ask you something else?”

The two girls nodded, grabbing a pastry and heading back and up to the apartment. Marinette fiddled with the hem of her jacket, thinking about what had just happened. Alya sighed and pulled her towards the chaise.

“Don’t worry, let your parents handle this.”

“But what if I get in trouble in school? Miss Bustier could do to Principal Damcoles and say that I’m not cooperating and-”

“And then everyone will tell him off if he tries to punish you. Miss Bustier threatened you. That’s a whole other thing to consider, above her dumping a bunch of work onto you and making you do it by yourself.” Alya scowled. “I don’t understand that part. Why did she not want me to help with anything?”

Marinette didn’t have an answer to that. If Miss Bustier truly wanted her to do all of these things, then having Alya help her would have made life so much easier. Why not let someone else who was willing to help take some work off her shoulders do it? The redhead shrugged and reached in her bookbag.

“I guess it doesn’t matter right now. I know your mom said to relax, but I also know you can’t do physics for the life of you so let me help you out while I can.”

The bluenette felt tears prick up at the offer of receiving help, but she quickly wiped those away before her friend could notice. They were so distracted with the work that they didn’t hear the muffled shouts from below.

“That woman did what?!”

“She threatened our daughter. All because Marinette asked her why the manual she was given as class rep was different from every other class reps’ handbook.”

The two adults were hard to anger. Their life was full of simple joys, being able to live peaceful lives despite running a business and being in a time when a magical terrorist was in their city. But let it not be said that they could never get angry. Because right now, the only other thought in their minds besides concern for their daughter was the anger towards the girl’s teacher.

“I want to talk to Miss Bustier today. I know that Alya can be dramatic sometimes, but Marinette would never lie. Especially with something like this.”

“We can close the bakery. I want to be there as well.”

Sabine thought about it for a moment before shaking her head.

“No. I’m just gonna do a phone call for now. Besides, we can’t just close the bakery today. I’ll update you once I’m done talking to her.”

She thought that it would be a fifteen minute phone call max. Just her asking to confirm things and then asking for them to be changed to how they should be. She didn’t expect Miss Bustier to try and defend herself. Yes, Marinette was a bright kid and an excellent student, but that didn’t mean that she should be doing the work of her teacher. The more she tried to defend her daughter, the more the teacher defended her own actions. Sabine ended the call more frustrated than before, and she decided to instead talk to Mr. Damocles. Because surely he would be able to correct the teacher? After all, what Ms. Bustier was doing was an abuse of her power.

Alas, Sabine ended her night early. Both adults saw it best to just close the bakery early. Heaven forbid if that principal or teacher decided to pay them a visit. The cup of chamomile tea was not helping her to calm down in the slightest, and her husband paced around as he ranted. The woman herself, while not outwardly expressing her thoughts, did silently stew on the issue.

How dare those people do this to her child. It wasn’t a big deal? It absolutely was. Neither parent had missed the way Marinette was getting more sluggish and tired. It was part of the reason why they had stopped making her work in the bakery as of late. All that extra work was affecting her studies and normal life, and neither of those adults cared? It was an outrage! But who else could she turn to?

It was then that an idea struck her. Sabine grinned, leaving her half finished tea on the table and walking off.

“Calling them back is not going to do anything. I think we need to go in person and demand that they stop this.”

“Oh, I’m not calling them. I have a better idea.”

If those two wouldn’t listen to her, then she would have to get someone who would make them see the error of their ways. Sabine sat down at the computer, typing out a very detailed email before sending it off. She continued to check her inbox throughout the weekend, waiting for a response, but there wasn’t one. Not until Sunday afternoon.

Dear Madame Cheng,

We have reviewed your complaints regarding Madame Bustier and Mister Damocles, and have officially filed for an investigation to take place. We will begin the investigation starting tomorrow, Monday XX/XXXX, and will inform you of any updates as well as the results. If you are worried about any misaction towards your daughter by Madame Bustier because of this investigation, please let us know. We will be happy to make arrangements for her to be situated in a different homeroom both during and after the course of this investigation.

We ask that you and your husband be available during some point this week for a meeting to discuss the problem more in depth. We will try our best to be courteous and inform you ahead of time when we will be paying you a visit. If you have anything urgent to report before our meeting, please do not hesitate to reach out either through email or using the phone number listed below. We promise you that your concerns will be taken seriously, and the investigation will not end until a solution is made.

Jon Garnier, Dupont School Board Member

Sabine smiled at the email once she finished reading it. It was done. With the school board involved, Miss Bustier would be forced to take off the workload from her daughter. She sent a response email to him, thanking him and informing him that he could come to the bakery at any time and she would be sure to be available to talk to him.

There were some other things, some very concerning things, that Alya had filled her and Tom in on Friday before the girl went home, but Sabine didn’t add those in. As awful as they were, they could wait to be discussed once she was face to face with someone.

Marinette was told that things were being handled, but the girl still seemed worried. She was given a choice to switch homerooms temporarily or even just stay home for a day or two, but she rejected both. Not only was Marinette behind on classwork, but she still needed to continue her class rep duties, even if her parents didn’t seem happy when she said that. Reluctantly, her parents sent her off to school on Monday.

Alya made sure to pick her up, trying to offer her support and then try to distract her with little success. It was very clear to anyone that Marinette had not gotten any rest, despite the reassurance from her parents and Alya. She was told not to do any of the class rep work and instead just relax and focus on her other school work, but she wasn’t able to feel calm. Her anxiety at what would happen now that her parents had talked to Miss Bustier and Mr. Damcoles kept her from sleeping. So she worked on not just all the extra class work, but also her guardian work. Tikki was not happy with her, but there was only so much that the kwami could do to stop her.

The two girls slowed down a bit as they approached their friends by the steps. Both boys eyed the bluenette with great concern with one of them being… a bit more dramatic about it.

“Marientte! What happened? Why do you look more tired now?”

The blond fretted, handing the cup of coffee he had to Nino to hold as he examined the girl, holding onto her face with one hand as he lightly touched the bags until her eyes with his finger.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Couldn’t sleep? You look more tired than I do when I have a night and morning shoot back to back. Maybe you should go home and rest for the day?”

“I can’t. I’m already behind on all my work. Besides, as class president it’s my duty to show up.”

The pigtailed girl couldn’t say it with as much conviction as she once might have, due to how much energy that would have taken. Even talking was just wearing her out. How she would be able to handle Chole’s inevitable fits, she didn’t know, or really care about right now. None of the trio were happy to hear that, and even the students who fluttered around looked at the girl with a mix of concern and pity.

Adrien had always wanted to be able to have a straight conversation with the budding designer. One where she wouldn’t be so flustered that she would have to run off. But if she would have to be like this for him to get that? He would have never wished for it. For now he turned and took the coffee cup back from Nino to hand it to the girl.

“Here you go. If you refuse to go home then at least have this.”

The small smile she gave him was genuine, and Adrien only wished that it had come at a time when she wasn’t so tired.

“Thank you. I need to get some things done before class starts.” Before anyone could stop her, Marinette started her walk up the stairs. Alya was immediately on her trail.

“She’s wearing herself out. I want to be able to help her more but…” The blond murmured, wishing that he knew what was happening to her. He knew that she was stressed out, but surely there had to be something else he could do besides keeping her caffeinated. Nino patted his shoulder, still looking at where the girls disappeared off to.

“You’re doing what you can. Besides, Alya’s figured things out.”

“Figured what out? Marinette is still… like that.”

“She didn’t tell you? With the way Alya went off in the group chat and then to me, I thought for sure you would have known.”

Alya did what? Adrien had been on his phone, and he hadn’t noticed any messages coming in at all. Checking his texts, the last message from the class chat had been someone commenting on Marinette’s behavior, but it was just a message of concern from Rose. Nothing from Alya. Nino looked over his shoulder and let out an oh.

“You must not have been added to the chat. Here, let me do that real quick.”

In a few seconds, a request to join a group chat came in. Clicking accept, he quickly scrolled to the top of the conversation before pausing. He blinked once, twice, then screamed.

“She did WHAT to Marinette?!”

“Yeah, it happened on Friday. Alya overheard it and went to Marinette’s parents. They-” Nino went on, but Adrien drowned him out.

He couldn’t believe it. He knew that Marinette was stressed out about her class rep position and he saw how Miss Bustier treated Marinette sometimes, but this? That woman just decided to threaten her? A growl sounded out, and it barely registered in his mind that it came from him.

“That’s it. I don’t care what I have to do, I’m-”

“Adrien.” Nino said, grabbing onto his shoulders and snapping him out of his thoughts. “You need to calm down. Trust me, everyone is upset about this, but you can’t get akumatized.”

He tried to calm himself, but it was hard. This whole time this was happening without him knowing. He was a failure to his princess, his everyday Ladybug. Did his partner have something like this happening in her life and he was failing her too? He knew that she was more tired lately, due to having more work in her civilian life on top of guardian work but she didn’t give specifics. He had tried offering to do some of the guardian work too, but she had declined citing how it would be too dangerous to do it in the open and they had nowhere private to go. Maybe he should have pushed more?

“Dude, calm down.” He instructed again, once again jostling him from his thoughts. “Alya already told Marinette’s parents. They have things covered.”

The question of “how” popped into his mind, but before he could voice it he spotted two adults walking up the steps. Adults who he did not recognize, but felt like they held an air of authority to them.

“Trust me,” Nino said, and it was then that the blonde noticed his friend’s knowing look. “They have things covered.”

Adrien knew that there was something else to Nino’s words, but decided against asking exactly what. For now he would simply keep a closer eye on both Marinette and Miss Bustier. No one would be allowed to hurt his princess on his watch.

Inside the school, whispers had already begun. There had already been some talk about the bluenette before. With her being one of the only two people in the akuma class who hasn’t gotten akumatized yet, they figured that the noticeable stress she was under would due her in.

But now the whispers were revolving around the reason for the two adults who entered the building. A man and a woman, both dressed in business attire and wearing the same stern expression. They came in to get answers, and they would get just that.

Walking straight to Mr. Damocles' office, they gave a sharp knock before letting themselves in. The man, for his part, seemed confused by someone bursting into his office. His confusion quickly turned to concern as he recognized the people standing before him.

“We’re here from the school board. There’s been a recent complaint filed and we will be investigating it.” The woman’s tone left no room for an argument. “I’ll be discussing this issue with you while Mr. Garnier does an observation in one of your classrooms. Depending on what happens, we may have to pull some students out of class to ask them a few questions.”

Mr. Damocles only had enough time to realize what the recent complaint was before the man walked out. The woman sat down in the chair across his desk, setting a file in front of him.

“So, tell me about your response to the mistreatment of one Miss Marinette Dupain Cheng?”

There would be no use lying. As required with all staff members, their school issued phones recorded every phone call that took place on them. It was meant to protect them if a parent tries to deny something that they said over the call, but in this case it would be used against him. He cleared his throat, trying to figure out a way to save himself. He remembered that last time these people came in they said that then was his final warning, but surely he would be fine. He was an excellent principal, and this issue wasn’t big enough for him to be fired, surely. So he began his defense.

~~~~~~~~~~

Mr. Gariner walked through the hallway, trusting that Mrs. Monet would be able to handle things. She was slightly biased in this case, as she had a soft spot for the victims in cases like this, but she was a professional above all else so she should be able to prove well into finding out exactly what Mr. Damocles’ thoughts were.

Truthfully, they should have done an investigation at this school sooner. They had seen the news reports about the students in this class, but since Hawkmoth was a new thing they had waited. He took his victims by using their emotions against them, and since uncontrolled emotions tended to run higher among adolescents they didn’t push investigating directly as their top priority.

They had simply decided to send an email and request that something was done within the classrooms to allow for some form of relaxation or meditation to be done. That had gotten accepted without any issues, and they foolishly had allowed their attention to relax from the school. But now they noticed the repeated pattern of akumas forming from one specific class, and something had to be done.

Even without Madame Cheng’s email, they would have been investigating Miss Bustier and her class anyways. Of course, what was said in that email worried them. From what it sounded like, it seemed like Miss Bustier was fostering her work onto a student. That would be bad enough, but threatening said student to continue doing the work was an extra layer that they would have to address.

For now he tried to clear his thoughts, knocking once on the classroom door before walking in. The students were all whispering to themselves, but stopped once they saw his presence. He simply ignored them, turning to the confused teacher.

“My apologies for interrupting your classroom, Madame. The school board sent me to do your regular classroom observation.” It wasn’t true, but it would at least help to make her not mask her true behavior as much. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t be showing off her real behavior though. She seemed a bit flustered, but nodded nonetheless. “I’ll just be sitting in the back. Please just go on with your lessons as you normally would.”

Without another word, he walked up the stairs and took a seat in the very back. The woman eyed him wearily, but called the class to attention anyways. Throughout the morning, he noticed all the students at some point or another looking back at him.

The one that caught his attention though was one blonde student in the front. Not because he was looking at him, but because he was turning around to look at another student. Marinette Dupain Cheng, he had to presume. He did see her photo when looking into her file, but even without that he could tell that she was the student whose parents had made the complaint. The amount of papers that were on her desk, as well as how the other students occasionally looked over to her in concern was enough of an indicator.

There were no major issues that had popped up, but there were a few times when he noticed Miss Bustier looking at Marinette. The first came when another student (Chloe Bourgeois, he remembered her from numerous reports before) made an insult to the girl. Instead of calling the student out, Miss Bustier looked over to Marinette and waited. When nothing happened, she opened her mouth before looking back at him and closing it again. Whatever she was going to say was instead replaced with her continuing the lesson as if nothing had happened.

There were a few other times, when she mentioned the graded homework and a quiz and she looked over to the girl, only to quickly say that she would be passing them back tomorrow. He caught her looking back at him then too. It happened several other times, one notable one being when she mentioned the class’s end of the year trip. The way Marinette’s body stiffened when the teacher commented that all plans would be finished and presented on Friday was noticeable to everyone but the teacher.

Another thing he noticed was the same blonde boy from before making to stand up, only for his desk mate to pull him back down and shake his head. It was easy enough to tell why he did that when they both looked back at him. He didn’t know if it was out of fear that they would be punished or if they were hoping he would do something.

He was going to do something, of course, Mr. Gariner would never allow for this kind of treatment to continue past today, but he was required to wait until the students left before talking to Miss Bustier directly about these issues. Of course, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t doing anything right now.

A few quick emails and texts got sent out and exchanged. Another member of the school board would be coming to help with asking the students and other teachers some questions regarding both Miss Bustier and Mr. Damocles. The principal had been warned not even a few months ago that he needed to have better control on his students and staff members.

Those issues had all stemmed from one Miss Bourgeois who had caused issues and hurt students all while never facing any consequences. He was warned to not let a student get out of trouble by threatening to call her father. He was even told that if the mayor tried to actually follow through on the threats his daughter made, that he would be abusing his power and would be kicked out of his position.

They hadn’t received any complaints since then, but it was a wonder if students had been making them and they never got received. That thought was also troubling. Not all people would consider turning to the school board for issues, not at first anyways. Contacting the teacher or principal was what families were encouraged to do. The issue needed to first be, or at least, attempted to be, dealt with at the school level before going up to the school board after all.

It was meant to stop unneeded cases from clogging up and stopping them from being able to work on more pressing issues, but it could be possible that people didn’t bother trying to contact them. It could be that they were promised that everything would be settled, or even that the school board wouldn’t be able to help out anyways. Another thought was that they could have been threatened as well. If Miss Bustier made a threat to her one student without a second thought, was it possible that other students were coerced into keeping quiet?

Once the bell rang for lunch, all the students were packing up and Miss Bustier said one final thing.

“Marinette, please stay behind for a few minutes.”

Those words caused everyone in the class to stop what they were doing and look between the two. The tension was noticeable, and Mr. Gariner decided to settle things. Walking down the steps and towards the front, he addressed the teacher, not even having to raise his voice to be heard by the rest of the students in the pressing silence.

“Actually, Miss Bustier, I need to discuss some things with you.” When she opened her mouth to refute, he pressed on. “You can discuss whatever it is with your student later on.”

Seeing how he wasn’t going to budge, Miss Bustier nodded. Marinette quickly walked out, the rest of the students following right behind her. Closing the door after the last student walked out he waited a few moments just to make sure that no one else was going to come in before turning to address the teacher.

“Please take a seat. This will be a long discussion.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette was freaking out. Not only did she not get the chance to hand Miss Bustier the homework and quizzes she helped to grade and would be getting in trouble for that, but she also would need to finalize everything for the class trip before Friday. Even with all the work she did over the weekend, she still wasn’t close to done.

She hadn’t been able to book anything since she wasn’t an adult, and even if she could bug her parents to help she wouldn’t be able to since they wouldn’t be going on the trip and whoever booked things had to be in attendance.

That left the only choice being Miss Bustier. She debated sending her an email, but Tikki had actually been able to stop her from doing that, unplugging the computer and causing enough commotion that her parents came up and brought her downstairs to get away from the work laid out on her desk. Her hope was to ask the teacher before class but then she didn’t come into class until the start time. And she wasn’t able to meet with Miss Bustier during lunch since then the man from the school board needed to talk to her, so she would have to put it off until after school.

Right now Alya was dragging her off outside the school and towards her house. She didn’t register the conversation that Nino and Adrien were having behind them. It was when she almost stumbled and felt arms wrapping around her body to keep her upright, while she could see Alya bending down to pick up her dropped items, that she realized they were outside the bakery’s doors.

“Okay. You’re eating lunch and then you’re gonna relax. Maybe you should take a nap too.”

“Adrien?” She tried to turn to look at him, but his arms pulling her back to be flushed with his chest prevented her from being able to do more than glance at him from the corner of her vision.

“You need to let her go dude. Unless you want to carry her inside.”

There was a pause, and it seemed for a second like he was actually going to do it. As he was adjusting his arms, Alya stopped him.

“Let’s just let Marinette walk. We’re here anyway.”

Adrien did let her go enough for her to walk forward, but kept his hand ghosting her back. The four walked in and headed up into the main part of the house. Marinette was sat down on the couch, held down by Adrien when she tried to grab the papers Alya was still holding.

“I need to work on the rest of the arrangements for the class trip.”

“Nope. That’s not your job.” Alya said, leaving no room for argument. Before Marinette could try though, the blogger walked out of the room with Nino in tow.

“Everything will be okay.” She turned and blinked at Adrien, who was still holding her. “I won’t let Miss Bustier hurt you again. I promise.”

“What do you-”

“I heard about Miss Bustier threatening you. I don’t care how I do it, I promise you I won’t let her get away with that.”

Marinette turned to better face him. Half of her brain was trying to mentally arrange things for the class trip while the other half was too tired to fully comprehend what all was happening. It still hadn’t even processed the fact that Adrien was going to carry her earlier. Before she could even attempt to understand what he was telling her now and how he knew, Alya and Nino walked back in with a bunch of food.

“You’re going to eat then you’re gonna take a nap until lunch is over.”

“But I need to get back to school before lunch is over.” If she was lucky, Miss Bustier would be done talking to the man from the school board. Then she could try and get things figured out in time for Friday.

“Eat. Then sleep.”

Alya pushed the plate of food onto her lap. Deciding that she could just sneak out after she got done eating, Marinette began to eat the sandwich Alya had made. During the whole time they ate, their eyes kept drifting back to Marinette. As soon as she was done eating and made to stand, they acted.

Marinette’s brain was able to conjure up the question of if all her friends were physic or if they had discussed this plan in front of her and she just didn’t realize it, because they all acted in sync. Nino grabbed her plate and cup from her hands, moving out of the way while Adrien pulled her down to lay on the couch. Alya threw a blanket over her body and adjusted it as a pillow got placed under her head.

“Nap time.”

“But-”

“You will be stuck here until the end of lunch either way. You might as well just sleep.”

Marinette let out a huff, making to move only for a hand to press her down. She looked up at Adrien’s face as he loomed over her.

“I will lay on you if you try to resist Marinette.”

That reminded her of Chat Noir. Even though he had canceled group patrols, and he took over her solo ones, she had decided to go out for one last weekend. She couldn’t help herself. She was anxious and just wanted to go out for a little bit. Still, once he realized she was out and hadn’t slept at all, he ran off before returning with a pillow and blankets. Somehow she ended up wrapped up in what she could only refer to as a blanket burrito with a pillow under her head and Chat Noir laying on top of her. She had fallen asleep to the sound of his purring.

Of course there was no way that Adrien would do that. But he did. As soon as she tried to sit up again, he laid his chest on top of her’s. He was still kneeling on the ground, so it wasn’t all of his body on top of her, but it was enough weight that it kept her from moving.

“Sleep.” He said, turning his head to look at her. His breathing began to slow, and her body mimicked it without thinking. Soon she was out like a light. He didn’t want to move, but slowly lifted himself off her.

“How did you do that?” Nino asked, his voice in a whisper to keep the girl asleep.

“I read that if you are with someone you both subconsciously match your breathing to theirs.”

He didn’t say it, but he had specifically looked it up on the off chance that he would have to help Ladybug fall asleep without being transformed. His purring only happened in suit, after all. Before anything else could be said, Madame Cheng walked into the room. Adrien quickly leaned back, hoping that she didn’t notice him laying on top of her daughter. She opened her mouth to speak, but the three teens shushed her and waved her off. The woman smiled to see her daughter asleep, but the expression slowly dropped.

“You three are wanted downstairs.”

“For what?”

Adrien resisted the urge to lay back down on top of Marinette and hold onto her. She was finally sleeping, and he wasn’t about to let her have any chance of waking up from her nap too soon.

“There’s someone from the school board who is interviewing the students in your class. She was interviewing me and Tom, but when I mentioned the four of you being here she said she wanted to interview you all now.”

“At the same time?”

“No. Tom and I went separately, so I imagine it would be the same for you three.”

“You two go down. I’ll wait here until one of you gets done.”

Even if Adrien wasn’t the one to watch over Marinette the whole time, he could at least make sure she stayed asleep while Alya and Nino got interviewed. They nodded, and soon Adrien was left alone. He waited a few seconds before laying his head back onto the girl’s chest, smiling as he closed his eyes.

“Oh Plagg, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Marinette is just a very good friend.”

Adrien let out a huff before looking up and glaring at his kwami. He really didn’t want to argue today, so he tried to close his eyes and ignore the god.

“If you think that will stop me, kid, you’re wrong. I-” Whatever Plagg was about to say was cut off. Adrien opened his eyes and looked up, to see him sporting a look of worry. Slowly lifting his head off Marinette’s chest and turned to look off where the kwami was starring. Nothing was there.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, turning back around. What Adrien did not realize was that Tikki was floating right behind him, giving Plagg her signature death glare.

My bug has had no rest at all. Her eyes said. If you stop her from being able to sleep because you’re too busy teasing your kitten and wake her up then I won’t hesitate to end you.

“Nothing.” Plagg said out loud, not wanting to unleash Tikki’s wrath. He was concerned for her bug too, which was why he was trying to get his oblivious holder to realize his feelings so that she would be cared for on both sides of the mask. Of course, he could do that later when he wasn’t at risk of being destroyed.

Confused, but deciding not to question it, Adrien laid his head back down and shut his eyes, falling asleep to the sounds of her gentle breaths.

~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing that Marinette noticed when she woke up, was the voices drifting into the room. She sat up and looked around, confused as to what she was doing in her living room. She turned around and looked over the couch in time to see her papa coming into the room with another woman.

“I guess she woke up.” Her papa said, before addressing her. “Marinette, this is Mrs. Blanchet. She’s from the school board and is here to ask you some questions.”

Marinette was immediately confused and also worried. She noticed the woman’s professional attire and immediately went to smooth out her messy hair. Mrs. Blanchet didn’t seem to care though, as she walked over and took a seat on the chair across from the couch, not once giving any judgemental looks.

“Sorry about my appearance.” Marinette muttered.

“It’s quite alright. I’ve heard from your friends that you haven’t been able to rest, so it’s good that you got some sleep at least.”

She had spoken to her friends? The questions continued to build up. She knew that there was a man from the school board who was speaking to Miss Bustier, but that didn’t explain why there was this woman here and why she would speak to her friends. The answer finally snapped into place with the next thing she said.

“So, Ms. Dupain Cheng, please tell me about your experience with Mlle. Bustier. And please, be honest.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is she okay?”

“Relax, dude, her parents are with her.”

“But she should have been done by now.”

The trio had long finished their interviews with Mrs. Blanchet and were sent back to school. Miss Bustier wasn’t in class, but a sub was brought in to cover for her. Mr. Fournier was allowing them to work quietly together on the assignment, or really was just letting them have some time to discuss what was going on.

He knew that there would be whispering and notes being passed anyways, so it was better to simply let them go ahead with it so they could not feel so anxious about things. Besides, a few students were still out doing their interviews. It wouldn’t be fair to teach with several students missing due to the investigation.

“Should we call her?”

“Adrien, she is fine. We asked her parents to call us if something bad happens, remember?”

It was the only way they were able to get Adrien to leave the bakery. Even telling him that his father would be upset to find him skipping out on class didn’t get him moving. The two bespeckled teens tried to keep Adrien distracted with the worksheet they were giving, but his eyes kept snapping to the door each time it opened.

More students returned, none of them being Marinette, and Adrien was at the point of considering if he could run out of the room and to the bakery without being pulled back by Nino. So far the only three students out of the room were the bluenette, Chloe, and Sabrina.

But then Sabrina came back, and quietly explained to Mr. Fournier that Chloe wouldn’t be returning to class today. Adrien assumed that it was because Chloe didn’t want to bother returning to class, but if he was paying attention he might have noticed Sabrina’s wide eyes and flustered tone. As if she was just exposed to some harsh truth and still trying to comprehend it.

By the time the door came open again, Adrien was standing up to run to the bakery. As soon as he spotted the familiar pigtails, he got in front of the girl and hugged her as quickly as he could.

“Is everything okay? Are you feeling a bit better now?”

Marinette, for her part, did get enough rest to comprehend some things. Not enough for her to be flustered around Adrien yet, but enough to realize how he got to her so quickly.

“Did you just… jump over your desk?”

“Dude.” Nino muttered, head in his hands.

“Um… no?” It was more of a question, because Adrien truly didn’t know if he did that or not.

“Please sit down. I need to make an announcement to the class.”

It was then that Adrien realized that Marinette wasn’t walking in alone. Behind her was another woman, one who he hadn’t seen before. It also registered in his mind that if he really did jump over a desk, not only did this woman see it but the rest of the class also did. He quietly went back to his seat, but not before making sure Marinette got seated in hers.

“My name is Mrs. Monet and I am a member of the school board. As you know, we have been asking you questions regarding your teacher and your time here at Francoise Dupont. The school board doesn’t like to make rushed decisions, but we feel like this decision will be best for the students and other members of this school’s safety.” She took a pause before continuing. “Miss Bustier will no longer be your teacher.”

Before, if someone were to say that to the class, they would all be devastated and demand answers. However they had seen how she’s been to Marinette over the past couple weeks. Not just that, but once they heard about her threatening Marinette a lot of the love and respect they felt towards the teacher was burned out. Mrs. Monet had been expecting them not to be upset, and continued on with her speech.

“I am sure you might be confused as to what is happening, but I assure you that the school board makes all of its decisions with the school’s wellbeing in mind. We will be ensuring that this choice doesn’t harmfully impact your education. Mr. Fournier will be taking over as your sub for the rest of the school year. I do ask you to please be patient with getting answers to the questions that I’m sure all of you have.

“We cannot give out full details of an investigation without permission from several people, and that only can happen after the investigation is fully finished. Of course, if you do have questions you need answered you may contact me and any of the other two school board members who you’ve seen today with the emails we’ve provided you. We will be happy to answer your questions if we are able to.

“It is also decided that since the decision to remove Miss Bustier as a teacher here is affecting multiple classes, that tomorrow will be an optional school day. Students may come in to work on school work or just hang out. However you will be required to come within the first hour of school and stay the whole day if you do wish to come here. It is to ensure all of your safety. Your parents have already been notified and told that they will receive a call just to confirm that you aren’t coming to school. If you have any more questions regarding that, you can ask Mr. Fournier for more details.

“Another change that is taking place is that your principal is also being removed.” This caused whispers of confusion to sprout up, but they quickly died down when the woman raised her hand. “We unfortunately cannot say much about this other than he was breaking some rules and had to be terminated. An official announcement regarding that will be made once the investigation is finished. I wish you all a good rest of your day, and if you have anything else you need to ask or have to tell us please reach out to any of the members you have seen today.”

With that, Mrs. Monet walked out and allowed the class to finally speak what was on everyone’s mind.

“This is my fault.”

Well, clearly one student didn’t share the same thoughts as everyone else. All eyes immediately turned towards Marinette, who looked very upset at the current news. Which didn’t make sense given what had happened to her just last week.

“Marinette, no it’s not.”

“But, Miss Bustier-”

“Did you ask to have all that work dumped on you? To be threatened?” Adrien said, eye flashing with rage. A pat from within his pocket, unknown to anyone else in class, reminded him to take a deep breath and calm down.

“But what about the class trip? I still needed to get things booked.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Dupain Cheng. As your current homeroom teacher, I’ll be handling things. Everything will be fine. As for you, I think that it would be a good idea for you to take a break being class representative so that you can focus on your school work and your other activities. Your class deputy can take over for a few weeks, and can appoint someone to help her temporarily as well.”

In the back of her mind, Marinette knew that what the man was saying was supposed to lift a burden off her shoulders. After all, she had been wanting a break for weeks now. But right now it felt like all the work she had done up to this point was all for nothing.

“But, what about the plans I’ve already made? All that was left was to book things and get them approved?”

Mr. Fournier paused in consideration. It would be wrong to use work that a child was forced to do, but it was clear that it could cause the bluenette more distress if all of her work was for not.

“See me on Wednesday. I’ll have to reach out to the school board to ensure that it is okay, but if you wish we can take your plans and implement them without you having to do all of the work. For now you all can just finish up on the worksheet I gave you and then have quiet conversations. If you need anything feel free to ask.”

Alya handed Marinetted a worksheet but less for the reason of working on it and more just so she wouldn’t forget about grabbing one later. Right now she wanted to check in on her.

“Miss Bustier had this coming to her.” Alya didn’t let Marinette try and defend that woman. “She was the one who purposely dumped her work onto you. Not just that, but she refused to let anyone else help you out. Then she decided to threaten you whenever you were politely trying to figure out the truth. Whatever happens to her is on her.”

Adrien and Nino nodded, and the rest of the class would have agreed but were pretending that they weren’t eavesdropping to try and give her some privacy. Marinette didn’t seem so sure, and the rest of the class all came to the silent collective decision that they would make sure Marinette wasn’t hurt from this.

~~~~~~~~~~

Before the end of the week they found out that Chloe got expelled. Turns out all the threats she gave to both staff and students alike was enough to seal her fate. Her father tried to fight it, but there wasn’t a lot that could be done with all the evidence. In fact, he was too busy trying to save himself from being exposed of him abusing his power at the school to worry about abusing it even more.

Another two weeks passed before they found out why Mr. Damocles was fired. Besides just ignoring Chloe’s behavior and Miss Bustier’s abuse, he had also been stealing the school’s money. Turns out the pay of being a principal alone couldn’t afford him all the comic books and fancy gadgets he wanted to become The Owl.

It took a few weeks for Marinette to feel okay about things. Tikki adamantly went through, relaying out what responsibility meant for her to ensure that Marinette would take care of herself. Adrien, Alya, and Nino all distracted her when she got doubt that it was her fault more than Miss Bustier’s, and all made sure that she got plenty of rest.

With all the rest she was getting she was finally able to go on patrols again with Chat’s approval. That still didn’t mean that he didn’t wrap her up in a blanket and make her take a nap instead of patrolling some days, but Marinette found that falling asleep to his purrs made her feel more relaxed so she was okay with it.

It was two months after the whole debacle, when Marinette was made to nap before a study session with her three friends only to wake up to the purring coming from a different blonde boy, that she realized something else. A quick freak out, the two hiding in the bathroom whilst Alya and Nino looked at each other confused from their spots in the living room, and Adrien decided that he really wasn’t going to let Marinette go. Like, literally.

“Adrien.”

“No.”

Marinette sighed, deciding to just lean back into him. He immediately burrowed his face into the crook of her neck, and it was only due to her slowly slipping out her exhausted mindstate and being able to be calm around him during that time that she wasn’t a completely flustered mess. Oh, she was still blushing hardcore, but at least she wasn’t squealing like a kettle.

Alya and Nino could only stare at the two, who had emerged from the bathroom with Adrien carrying Marinette before the blond sat her down between his legs. After a few moments, Alya was able to speak.

“So… are you two dating now or?”

“Engaged, actually.”

“I don’t remember you proposing.”

“I would say married, but just because we act like a married couple doesn’t mean that we are legally married yet.”

“We’re fourteen.”

“... I can wait.”

#miraculous fanfiction #miraculous ladybug fanfic #mlb marinette #marinette dupain cheng #Ms. Bustier Salt #mlb salt #Alya sugar #protective adrien agreste

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