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kpopchangedme · 5 years

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Saint-Agnès de Roma | Mark Tuan

A scholarship student like you has no business hanging out with the cool, filthy rich, teens of your private Academy... But somehow you still end up playing a naughty game with that one guy…

|| M.List || GOT7 ||

Protagonists: Mark Tuan & You

Word count: 8.2k

Lysandre’ note: FINALLY POSTING A NEW FIC. Trying to see if my shadowban is gone for ever and ever and ever. :’D I’m excited (can’t you tell?) and hope you like this.

Snippet: “You were kind of expecting the Reverend Mother to appear and throw the door open, yelling at you and Mark to get on your knees and recite Hail Mary any seconds now. He smiled, face glowing, illuminated only by the small rays of light coming through the door crack. Mark had a dangerous animalistic smile, one exposing canines and baring far too many teeth, often it made him look spooky. “Relax.” He commanded, hand climbing slowly on your side as his breathing neared your cheek. “I’m not gonna jump you. You were such a tease earlier. Is this really your first time?””

It was the long weekend of Thanksgiving, which for the rest of the students of the country, meant enjoying great food with their loving families. To the students of Saint-Agnès de Roma however, it was merely an opportunity to leave the dormitory and go wild for four days straight. If Jackson – the youngest son of the Wang family, and occasionally your best friend – was the one telling this story, he’d probably put it that way: Thanksgiving was the Saint-Agnès get-fucked Holiday. For all those ridiculously rich teenagers that long weekend meant; ski trips to the Rocky Mountains, manors deserted of any parental figures, countless parties and even shopping sprees to London or Paris.

You couldn’t care less about all that.

For you, every year, holidays only meant having the girl’s senior dormitory all to yourself. For a few nights only, you wouldn’t be woken up by your roommate’s grinding her teeth, your studies wouldn’t be delayed by some jock disrupting the peace and quiet of the library. Thankfully, they were only a few students that stayed over during the rare weekends of freedom: the ones with family issues so bad they’d rather be here than home, and the ones with an official school punishment.

You were neither; the exception, the scholarship peasant, there merely to make others feel better about themselves.

This year’s get-fucked Holiday however, you had agreed to do something quite unorthodoxy.

Soothing imaginary wrinkles on your skirt, you breathed in slowly to gather courage as you neared the Wang’s mansion. You were beginning to wonder why you accepted to come in the first place. You shouldn’t have given in to your best friend’s plea, him begging didn’t make you special in any way. Jackson had always been extra like that. He was a social butterfly and he was ‘close’ with everyone and their mothers. You guys were polar opposites and there were days where you were convinced Jackson believed himself to be the center of the universe, which was only partially right.

Still, even with his amazing social skills, sometimes it seemed that Jackson couldn’t understand the most basic things about humans in society: Birds of a feather flock together.

No matter how hard he’d try, his friends would never accept you.

It wasn’t true that finally joining one of his little ‘get-togethers’ would suddenly make you fit in with the cool crowd. Besides, it’s not like you even wanted those rich brats to like you. You’d gone through Middle School and most of High School invisible. You could endure what was left of Senior year being known as "that kid”. It wouldn’t kill you and you’d much rather spend your Friday night alone at the dorm, binging the latest tv show on Netflix, than with all of them.

Unfortunately, Jackson would never forgive you if you bailed out now. He freaked out when you tried to refuse his invitation for the hundredth time. He kept insisting tonight was going to be the ‘greatest night of your life’. Unfortunately, if all the invitations to his previous parties were anything to go by, you bet you’d still hear this argument to try to convince you to come to the next one too… And all the ones after that.

Jackson couldn’t stand the idea of people staying on the sidelines, and you knew why. He was just as righteous and idealistic as his father, Mr. Wang – probably the only billionaire in the world who always insisted to be called by his first name.

Ruiju Wang was one of the biggest benefactors of, not only the Middle School of Sacred Heart and its big sister’s Saint-Agnès de Roma Academy but also of the local orphanage. That was the only reason a kid like you got to meet a golden spoon heir like Jackson in the first place. You being a big bookworm and nerd was only coincidental, and Ruiju, seeing your potential, offered to the Sisters of the orphanage to sponsor your studies in the top schools of the area. You had always been thankful, graduating from Saint-Agnès Academy, despite your unfortunate background, guaranteed you’d get into one of the best universities of the world.

Thanks to the Wang’s gigantic fortune – mostly made in the late 70s by grandma Zhou, who Jackson once told you built a highly illegal traffic ring of tobacco and opium in British controlled Hong Kong – you now had a promising future. Perhaps that’s why you hated to disappoint your best friend. A future was a gift most orphans of the world would kill for.

Perhaps that’s also why you made it to his giant wooden front door, Friday of this Thanksgiving Holiday. Your finger hovered for a short second over the doorbell, still hesitating to join the party. But even so, your choice had already been made, you promised Jackson...

Seconds later, you were already following your very excited friend through the maze of corridors. It seemed you were heading to the East living room where you had already been countless times for the Wang’s charity events. It was an isolated part of the house, as opposed to where the rooms of the three living servants – but they called them employees – were. Ruiju and Sophia Wang had left for Australia to visit their eldest son and his family. Jackson opted out, favouring this little get together instead.

“I am sooooo glad you came y/n! You are not going to regret this!”

You could only lie through your teeth, this would be your first party ever and you didn’t belong here at all. If it was anything close to what you heard from rumours at school or seen in 90s teen movies, you’d flee without hesitation.

“TA-DAH!”

Jackson threw the doors of the living room open in front of you, spreading his arms widely. The small group of partygoers inside turned to stare at your entrance, as though you dramatically interrupted the most serious talk ever. He wasn’t kidding when he said it would be a small gathering, there was only around ten people, and you knew all of them from school.

“Wow, isn’t this a sight to behold.” Salome – head of the Senior’s Girl Dormitory, Captain of the Girl’s Lacrosse team and second-best student of Saint-Agnès – giggled, staring at you up and down. She was the devil incarnate and you threw an accusing glare at Jackson, who had conveniently not mentioned her being here. She hated you for always placing first despite lacking the help of expensive private tutors and made sure your life was hellish because of it. “How’d you manage to leave school y/n? I bet your convent strongly opposed.”

“I took the bus.” You answered sarcastically, choosing to ignore her last insinuation. You weren’t a nun, and you took the glass of colourful punch Jackson was already handing you as if to prove it.

You drank the cold alcoholized juice, walking closer to the group. It tasted like what you always imagined a vacation to the Caribbean would; sugary, with too much stuff going on, but overall enjoyable. Tonight would be your first time really drinking alcohol, but you were determined to try to blend in and that clearly meant boozing. A lot.

“I didn’t know public transportation served this neighbourhood,” Salome mused, frowning in disapproval.

It didn’t. You always had to walk 30 minutes after the nearest bus stop to make it to the Wang’s.

“Anyway, I’m glad you could join us.” A dangerous smile stretched her lips and you swear you saw Mark Tuan – descending of a long lineage of Saint Agnès alumnae and infamous serial-dater – squeeze her shoulder to ease her. It looked like these two were on again, his right arm was stretched to enclose her against his chest, as if afraid she’d dare breathe if he’d let go for a second.

“Everyone, this is my best friend y/n, she goes to Saint-Agnès too.” Jackson beamed as you carefully sat at the last empty spot of their circle. In front of you, Salome exchanged a long look with her friend Marissa – a total bitch from a new money family. The others all smiled and nodded, nonchalant at best. You had known most of them for years although you’d never spoken, and you were pretty sure they also already knew who you were. “Be nice, she’ll join our game! Where were we?”

“Katy was about to tell us about the weirdest place she has ever woken up in!” Salome laughed and Katy’s boyfriend Luis – the grandnephew of the Tsar of Bulgaria, or whatever – groaned, embarrassed for her.

“Come on, tell us!” Someone else’s pressed on, impatient. “It can’t be bad enough for you to strip.”

Immediately it clicked, and your gaze widened, staring at the pile of abandoned socks in the middle of the circle. Apparently, even filthy rich teenagers had nothing better to do than playing dumb games at parties. Still, you were glad their attention had left you completely.

Truth or Strip was sort of a legendary game at Saint-Agnès de Roma, and, as far as you knew, it was the first time an outsider was witnessing the closed circle of cool kids playing it for real. Maybe your luck just turned, this was a great behavioural observation opportunity.

“I once woke up in a…” Katy paused for effect and Luis tilted his head, frowning in anticipation. “... Gentlemen’s Club in Miami!”

“Boooo!” Marissa exclaimed as soon as the confession left her mouth. “Who hasn’t?”

You laughed as everyone did, certain 99,9% of the world’s population had never even set foot in that sort of exclusive place.

“BUT,” Katy raised a finger to defend herself, “the night actually started in Los Angeles!”

Impressed clapping followed, and you smiled in your glass as their sick oversharing game moved on. Apparently, you were as invisible here as you were in school, which was a relief, even if you promised Jackson to make friends. Everybody got drunker by the minute and almost an hour later, they were still playing the game.

Jinyoung Park – of Park Films, by far the largest movie production company in Asia – lost his shirt in a very gentlemanly manner, refusing to give away the name of his first conquest. Mark Tuan lost his too, refusing to share the weirdest place where he ever had sex. Chao-Xing – daughter of a Chinese real estate mogul, rumoured to own more than a third of Vancouver – took off her tights to keep the phone number of Justin Bieber her dirty little secret. Hyunwoo Son – of the South Korean ambassador’s family – gave up his (rather outdated) Ralph Lauren’ Polo to avoid spilling the tea on the craziest thing he used his diplomatic immunity for.

Everyone kept losing pieces of clothing except you, and you were starting to feel the dangerous buzz of the alcohol through your veins. So far it was all fun and games, perhaps it really was a great thing you’d come to this party.

Looking at them making fools of themselves felt surreal and oddly satisfying.

Studying these people in their own habitat could be great for your plan of pursuing an Anthropology Major. It made you feel like your very own Jane Goodall in the Kenya jungle, learning how to interact with primates.

“Jackson!” Jaebum Im – rumoured to be the secret love child of a top actress and one of Hyundai’s already married chairmen – slapped a hand on the built shoulder of your close friend, ready to get him to confess some horrible deeds. “Who’s your first love?” There was a collective roll of eyes at the easy question, but it caught your attention. “Truth or Strip!”

“Y/n,” Jackson answered immediately, not embarrassed the least by it and you blushed when everyone looked at you. Your friend was way too honest at this game, he only lost a single sock so far. He bluntly answered almost everything.

“What!?” Marissa – both of them infamously dated for a year during your time at Sacred Heart’ Middle School – sneered, staring dagger at you. “When?”

“My family sent me at least a day per week at her place when we were young, so we got really close.”

“Your parents sent you to... a-an orphanage?” Her mouth dropped, clearly horrified by the idea. “Is that even legal?”

“Yes.” You replied before Jackson could get offended for you, grinning at her unemotionally. “We used to play together every weekend since we were 8 years old.”

“Well well…” Salome, who seemed to have forgotten your existence until then, smiled diabolically. Perhaps she really had forgotten, everyone was pretty drunk by then. After all, the party was already going on a full swing when you joined. “Looks like we haven’t played with you yet… What should we ask y/n?”

“It’s not how the game works.” Youngjae Choi – golden son of one of the teachers, Mrs. Choi, and main soloist of the Saint-Agnès choir – cut in, trying to stop her. Half of an official nerd himself, he was already too familiar with her dirty shenanigans. Lord knows what he was doing here tonight, maybe your common friend forcefully dragged him too. “It’s Jackson’s turn to ask!”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes, miffed. “But it has to be y/n since she hasn’t played yet.”

“Y/n…” Jackson frowned, seemingly unable to think of a question invasive enough to satisfy the vultures, but still soft as to not make you regret you’d come. “Um…” Also, he already knew everything about you. Growing up in a Catholic orphanage wasn’t exactly the most propitious background for nurturing some dark and wild secret.

“Come on…” Another one sighed.

“Are you still a virgin?” Jaebum asked curious, earning himself a warning glare from the host.

“It’s too obvious she is,” Katy giggled, turning his more innocent question into something displeasing. As though being a virgin was nasty and shameful, you clenched your jaw. “Has she even ever been kissed to begin with?” From the corner of your eyes, you spotted Tuan straightening, probably ready to join in and make fun of you.

“Give me a second, I’ll think of something.” Jackson – your actual first kiss, by the way – ignored them, but you felt your face warm up.

Ultimately, the impending question didn’t matter, because you knew just the way to remain in control of their game, stay ahead and not give them the pleasure of embarrassing you. It’s the only advantage to being picked on often, you learn to understand the rules better than the ones making them. It’s like chess, if you’re always a move ahead, they can never truly get to you.

To survive tonight and fit it, you’d have to channel your inner Jane Goodall; think like a primate; become a primate.

It was a good thing you were done with your second drink. Already, your mind was numb in the most perfect way, you felt courageous and unbeatable. You were going to show them – those rich brats – show them you weren’t scared of anything. You could be fun. You could play and act dumb too. You could misbehave just like them.

Just as Jackson was opening his mouth to ask something, you started to pull at your dark t-shirt, riding it up and out of your suede skirt. The room automatically fell silent, everything stood still. The only thing you could hear was the sound of the stereo in the background, playing the dirty pop of the Hit 40. All the other girls only had stripped off their socks, tights or blazers so far, not wanting to take off anything more substantial, but you weren’t like others.

You’d rather expose yourself before they’d try to expose you.

After you threw your t-shirt on the pile of already stripped clothes, you sat there in silence as the boys cooed, highly conscious of your bra and mini skirt. Thank God you were tipsy enough to still act confident. Like another – primate you.

“What the heck?!” Jackson yelped, gaze crazy wide as he looked anywhere else but your exposed skin. “I haven’t asked my question!”

You shrugged, playing cool, “My answer is Strip.” Turning to Salome, you mimicked her earlier smirk. Right now, she looked like she had swallowed something nasty.

See? Virgins can be so much fun.

“Awesome...” Jaebum clicked his tongue, clearly entertained. “Looks like it’s your turn now, brainiac.” The boy’ Lacrosse captain handed you a third colourful drink, eyes dangerously lingering on the curve of your boobs.

By your standards, Im was the most handsome guy at the Academy, not that you’d ever tell anyone. He appeared out of nowhere at Saint-Agnès in 10th grade. According to the rumours, he earned himself this one-way trip by stealing his dad’s favourite sports car and crashing it into the Han River. His father was said to have sent him to Catholic boarding school only because his mother cried and begged for it not to be Military Academy. Jaebum was a ‘no comment’ type of guy, so nobody ever got to the bottom of his story. If it was true, you had to admit his mom horridly failed him. You were pretty sure Saint-Agnès’ Reverend Mother was scarier than any drill inspector could ever dream to be.

Accepting the drink, you blushed for everyone to see. It felt as though Jaebum’s eyes were fire on your neckline, as though it were his fingers and not simply his gaze that was on you. You didn’t feel exposed, you felt seen. Every single guy in the room – except Jackson – had his eyes glued to you and surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

“Let’s stop now.” The host gloomily stared away. You knew him enough to be aware he thought he was responsible for letting his schoolmates corrupt you.

“Yes, let’s play another game.” Salome agreed all too eager, having recovered from your little stunt. You smiled widely as you took another big sip of the tropical punch, aware she was fuming.

“The Knot?” Marissa suggested.

“Strip Pong,” Luis replied, running his hand up and down Katy’s thigh.

You rolled your eyes as the ideas kept coming, all games you had no clue how to play and clearly involving losing more clothes and dignity. Mark Tuan snorted at your dramatic gesture, catching your attention.

He was also childhood best friends with Jackson, but you never hung out together after you entered High School. Jackson was the only one who kept publicly addressing you, whereas that jerk played the other kids’ scheme, the invisibility one. Mark offered you one of his legendary lopsided grins as you held his gaze. You quirked a brow in distaste for him to see, a part of you wanted that almighty guy to know he had no effect on you whatsoever. Not anymore anyway, you were way past that naive 11 years old phase where you thought he was kinda cute. Nowadays you weren’t one of his fangirls, dying for him to notice her.

Coming from alumni and rich – you-have-no-idea-how-rich – kind of family, Mark Tuan stood at the very top of Saint-Agnès eligible bachelor hierarchy, the type you bet student’ parents slyly mentioned at family suppers: “Are you friend with the Tuan kid? I hear he’s as beautiful as his mother. She was a Miss Universe in the late 80s.”: “Isn’t the oldest son of the Tuans in your class? He’s old money, they left Mainland China many generations back.” or perhaps even: “He’s worth 20 billion at the very least. Please, do shag him and get knocked up”.

You, however, had no parents shoving you his way. Mark Tuan had been the quiet and hard to get close with type even in Middle School, and of course, it took a Jackson Wang to break down his walls. But he wasn’t the shy kid following you two around anymore. Now Mark had found his own species and returned to the wild. Like all of them, he was all about Gucci tees, yachts, drugs, fun and whatever. You definitely hadn’t seen him at Sunday mass in a while.

From what you heard, he had become as superficial as these other rich jerks, going through girls as models go through clothes. Curiously, Salome always seemed to find a way to pull him back somehow. Why even bother? These two started dating on and off between Middle and High School and never stopped. The same summer you and Jackson had a fling. Why did Tuan like the she-devil though? Even Jackson didn’t have any clue, nor could justify his friend taste for the dark side.

Filthy rich players like Tuan weren’t a ‘catch’, they were the poison of modern society. They thought they could get away with anything.

“Suck and Blow.” Salome decided on the game Authority herself, unaware her very shirtless boyfriend was still checking you out. And boy was that a sight, even you had to admit it. He might’ve grown up to be a piece of shit, but Mark had become one damn good looking turd.

Once everyone agreed, you all stood and – Thank God – got dressed. You picked up your own t-shirt from the pile to put it on, relieved. Sure, you were confident, but you didn’t want to chill with them half-naked all night either. Done, the party spread in a circle again and, sensing your confusion, Youngjae pulled you by the wrist to his right. He then leaned in to whisper in your ear, not as subtle as he intended to: “We just pass a card around with our mouths without dropping it. It’s about timing, the pair that drops it has to deal with a punishment.”

“Ew, that’s disgusting.” You grimaced and he shrugged, apparently already familiar with the game. You didn’t peg him for the type to come to these parties often, but perhaps you were wrong. Perhaps the choir sweetheart had a secret thing for booze and dirty games… How intriguing, you turned to consider him anew. “Are you good at this?”

“I...” Youngjae hesitated a second too long, doubt shading his features, “am really, really bad.” He confessed like a sin, making you laugh. He was cute in a ‘pure guy’ kind of way, you were familiar through Jackson and often shared a table to study quietly at the library. Youngjae was also in Saint-Agnès’ top 5 and didn’t come from a particularly wealthy family, thereby an ally. Jackson once told you that Youngjae attending the Academy was in his mother’s teaching contract. His financial background made him comfortable and relatable somehow. At least you had someone like him here with you tonight. Jackson was way too busy hosting to notice you didn’t know where to put yourself.

“What’s the punishment?”

“Well, obviously, there’s a risk you’ll… kiss, by accident.” He cleared his throat, accidentally adorable. They were far worse fates than sharing a kiss with him, you decided. “And if you drop the card, the usual pun-”

“Have you never played, y/n?” Tuan, who somehow had appeared to your own right chuckled, amused by how clueless you were. “Cute.” You gulped, staring in his almond eyes, he was about the same height as you now. In your Middle School friendship years, he’d been shorter by many centimetres, never managing to grow fast enough to catch up to you. “Don’t worry.” Mark plucked his lips your way and winked, gaze dropping in your neckline. “I’m good enough at this for us two.” If you were reminiscing of young innocent feelings, his douchebag attitude definitely brought you back down to the present.

Strong of your alcohol confidence, you feigned to look over your shoulder in confusion. “Are you talking to me?” You pressed your chest with both hands like honoured to be blessed by his recognition. “Can you really see me?” Tuan blinked, taken aback and Youngjae snorted to your left. He was always a great public, easygoing and always laughing at your stupid jokes.

“Of course, y/n. Your bra was kinda hard to miss earlier.”

Having recovered, Mark’s rude tongue darted through his parted lips to taunt you and your face warmed treacherously. It had been forever since you two last spoke or stood this close. The way Mark was looking at you now felt unsafe, predaceous. You almost took a step away instinctively, but that wouldn’t have been a very ‘primate y/n’ thing to do so you held back.

“Good girl gone bad... I’m all here for you.”

Instead, at that, you rolled your shoulders and exchanged a glance with Youngjae.

“Well, you must not know a lot of good girls, Mark… We’re the very best at being bad.”

Youngjae immediately coughed and the player’s brows shot up, a new glimmer in his eyes. What the fuck was primate y/n doing, flirting? Why would you ever say something like that? Jesus.

“Well, colour me intrigued.” Mark exhaled before taking a sip of his cup and you stared, trying not to hate yourself for saying shit like that aloud. “Then a good girl like you probably has a few bad tricks to teach me.”

You were about to reply with something – hopefully clever – for him to sod off, when Jackson announced the start of the game, standing on the other side of the circle. Your jaw dropped, realizing it meant you’d play between Youngjae and Mark. You’d sooner eat a live spider than kiss that jerk. Oblivious to your inner turmoil, Jackson winked at you, taking out a credit card from his wallet. (Lord knows where it had been!) Without wasting a second more, he put it on his mouth, sucked air and lowered to Salome to his right, passing her the card.

The game had started. Suck. Blow. Suck. Blow.

Pretty simple and self-explanatory. You tried to concentrate on watching the others play with ease to prepare yourself. If you mastered the technique, there was nothing to be afraid of. Still, you suspected it was a lot harder than it looked though and you peeked at Tuan, nervous. In a matter of seconds, it was your turn and Youngjae lowered himself above you, brows furrowed in concentration. You sucked the card successfully, disgusted at the sensation of wetness on your lips. Dreading the next exchange, you turned to the man to your right, not without a certain sense of responsibility. You were usually good at games and you could own this one too. Tuan’s face drew nearer, and you stilled, trying to make it easier for him. You passed the card without any difficulties. Thank God, you sighed, watching it make its way faster and faster around the circle.

You would get herpes because of this stupid party game. Ew.

You lacked time to dwell on that new disgusting realization before it was your turn again. Clearly, the unspoken rule was to accelerate to make things harder. No one had dropped the card yet. Youngjae chuckled gladly when he successfully passed it to you once more and you tried to ignore the dirty wetness from all the other players this time. This time, Mark wrapped his hand around your neck to stabilize himself when you turned to him. Other players had done it too and it made the exchange easier, so you tried not to think much of it. Like you did earlier, when you felt him suck, you blew to let the card go. Only this time, to your absolute horror…

The card fell.

You barely managed to retreat away from Mark’s plucked lips in a panic to avoid any skin contact. Drunkenly stumbling backwards, you hit Youngjae who held you up with strong hands. The small gathering collectively laughed at the fail and Mark winced, falsely apologetic.

“Gee!” He snapped his fingers like a 30s cartoon character who just made a blunder. You stared, bewildered as he bent to pick up the credit card, tossing it to Jackson under a thunder of woos. Mark lost on purpose. You were almost sure of it. Next, to the awfully serious host, Salome was livid, looking like she was about to murder you on the spot.

“Seven Minutes in Heaven!” Bambam – a 2nd generation heir from Thailand, newly transferred after being successively kicked out of his four previous boarding schools in Asia (and very proud of it) – announced your punishment.

Unfortunately, you knew how to play that game.

“W-What?!” You gasped in dismay, desperately turning to Youngjae for help as Mark shrugged at you, smirking.

Seven Minutes in Heaven?! More like: your own personal Hell.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Salome crossed her arms in front of her petite frame, head about to burst. “She obviously dropped it on purpose!” Your mouth opened in befuddlement. It was the stupidest accusation in the history of mankind. “Mark.” She warned, and the young man shrugged again, unbothered by her dirty glare.

“Rules are rules.” He said with a laugh.

“It’ll be the most boring seven minutes of your life, Mark!” She snapped, lacing venom in her words and the others self-conceited asstwats stifled their laughs.

“Excuse me?” Insulted, you narrowed your eyes at the brunette. Alcohol was apparently making you forget that these rich brats’ opinion of you couldn’t matter less. Boring? Why was she taking her anger out on you? You weren’t the one who failed the game and it’s not like you were trying to seduce her disgusting boyfriend.

“Please y/n, everyone knows you’re frigid.” Spiteful, Salome snickered, but no one found her funny this time. Jaebum even took an instinctive step between you two. Wait… Was she jealous, of you? The thought made you secretly ecstatic. Jeez, she should keep Mark Tuan on a leash if she cared that much. It’s not like he wasn’t running around giving it to anybody in the first place.

“Sally, don’t–” Even he tried to stop her, but she cut him off.

“I mean, isn’t she saving herself to take the veil or something?”

Your jaw clenched at that one last insult. You were aware of your prudish reputation, an overly Catholic childhood tends to stick to anyone, but you hated it. Salome regularly used that to publicly ridicule you. This time was different though, and she was either too drunk or stupid – or both – to realize that. She had just shown you her entire hand.

You smiled, she’d given you leverage, the upper hand, something invaluable you never had before. Now you knew her weakness.

“Jackson?” The summoned boy winced at your call, apparently dying a thousand deaths. It was too late now, you were worked up and he recognized that expression on your face. There was no point trying to stop you. “Where’s the closet?” You asked, as if there was some sort of unholy place specially dedicated to playing that game.

“W-What?” He couldn’t have looked more alarmed

“Tuan and I obviously need a heaven.” You pressed on, rolling your eyes. You should’ve stopped, but you were getting way too defiant.

“We do?” Mark whispered for only you to hear, slight panic now showing.

“Rules are rules.” Primate y/n replied to him sarcastically.

You wouldn’t have played Seven Minutes in Heaven with that asshole just to abide by the rules of this stupid party, but if it made Salome lose her mind... Then it was the only reason you needed to be willing. You’d do almost anything to give her a taste of her own medicine.

Youngjae pulled at your elbow, mouthing a very clear ‘don’t’ as a warning, probably thinking you had a death wish. There was no way she’d let you live when she got back to the dormitory after the Holidays. Too bad for her, the she-devil was already making your life a living Hell. You grinned at Tuan, trying to look convincing. You didn’t see him anymore, he wasn’t that former childhood friend nor the school’s hottest manwhore.

Now he was it, your own personal vendetta.

“A closet?” Jackson breathed out, mind completely blank. You bet if it was anyone else playing, he’d laugh and cheer, turning into his usual overdramatic bubbly self. Right now, he looked nothing but dejected.

“To show Tuan a not-so-boring time.” You enlightened, seriously exasperated. This time everyone else came alive to guide you two. Mark, who followed with heavy feet, clearly had a change of heart, but you didn’t care. He was the one who dropped the card. He didn’t have to do it for laughs, to bluff like that. What an ass.

‘We’re still young and they aren’t all that bad. You need to learn to have fun y/n!’

That’s what Jackson had said to convince you to come. I’m trying, you thought, I’m being; not boring. You bet now he was regretting ever inviting you.

You had to enter a guestroom to find an actual closet and it was empty and surely uncomfortable, like pretty much anything in the Wang’s gigantic mansion. Still, in a daze, you stepped it, followed closely by Mark. As soon as the door closed behind, you heard a chair being dragged to block it.

Now if either of you wanted to make a run for it, you couldn't. Great….

“Why’d you do that for?” You immediately ushered and hit his arm, freaking out at the dramatic shift of atmosphere. Before, you were sure he lost on purpose and he must have had intricate ulterior motives. There was no way one of the biggest playboys of the Academy did that just to earn himself seven minutes in the dark with your nerdy ass.

“Weren’t you begging for this to happen just now?” Mark drew nearer and you backed away until you couldn’t escape anymore. His arms found the wall on each side of your head. That proud asshole didn’t seem half as reluctant at the thought of you now that nobody could see him. This situation felt awfully intimate... Even though Salome was probably counting the seconds until she could open the doors.

“Besides, I haven’t done anything yet.” His whisper made you shiver as his breath fawned over your face.

You exhaled anxiously, staring back at him, oscillating. “Your girlfriend is going to kill me.” Perhaps you shouldn’t have drunk that much. Sure, you told Jackson you would try to fit in, but right now, with Mark, locked in this closet... It felt as though you had succeeded at becoming an entirely different person and you wondered if you’d find yourself back once the door reopened.

Jane Goodall did struggle after she left the primates to their jungle and returned to her own reality.

“Who?” He questioned innocently, “When I’ll date for real I won’t play around.” Mark’s right hand found your hip bone in the semi-darkness, thumb brushing your stomach through the fabric. You stilled, not knowing how to react to that. “Sally’s just a little intense,” he glanced down at your lips, “sorry she’s being hard on you.”

“That’s the understatement of the year.” The last world barely left your throat. From this close, this turd… He smelled kind of nice. Dammit.

“So… Are you really a good girl?” Mark hummed softly, leaning closer, voice deeper than the freaking Pacific ocean. Betraying goosebumps immediately spread on your skin. Right, you closed both eyes in defeat. That was why he made sure to lose the game. He knew it would turn out like this. “I bet it’s true...”

Mark's tongue darted out, catching the light and your eyes dropped on his lips. It was unfair. You weren’t prepared to face that kind of threat tonight. He was getting all predacious again and you were an easy prey. Sure, you hated the guy… When sober, collected, in control of yourself… Apparently, being pressed against a hot torso in the secrecy of a closet can change one’s perspective. You were almost trembling, blood boiling, body turned to stone; trapped.

“That you’re good at being bad.” Mark let out a weird small exhale, almost inaudible, tilting his head to the side.

Oh God, he was going to make this happen.

You had kissed boys before – OK fine, mostly Jackson and only when you were about twelve – but you had never made out in a dark closed space with anyone and surely that was bound to be sinful. Just being this close with Mark was surreal, electrifying, completely wrong. Did all guys smell like that? Jesus.

You were kind of expecting the Reverend Mother to appear and throw the door open, yelling at you and Mark to get on your knees and recite Hail Mary any seconds now.

His thumb pressed that spot on your hip and you inhaled sharply in apprehension, almost a purr. How humiliating, you’d never even made a sound like that. That jerk’s touch was more inhibiting than alcohol. Primate y/n was a traitor. Hopefully, you’d remember not to ever trust her again tomorrow morning, when you’d sobered up. Mark must have heard it because he smiled, face glowing, illuminated by the small rays of light coming through the door crack. He always had a dangerous animalistic smile, one exposing canines and baring far too many teeth, often it made him look spooky.

“Relax.” He commanded, hand climbing slowly on your side as his erratic breathing neared your cheek. “I’m not gonna jump you. You were such a tease earlier. Is this really your first time?”

Mark wasn’t that much of a talker in Middle School, this new him was the worst. He chuckled silently, unaware of your thoughts and a resolve birthed in your chest at his amusement. You weren’t about to let that guy boast later to the whole school about how inexperienced you were. Especially not to his bitchy non-girlfriend. Strong of determination and anticipation, you put your own hands around his hips, unsure where else they should go. You weren’t going to freak out. You weren’t going to be boring. You might as well go all out if primate you were about to do this to herself.

“No,” you lied, almost convincing your drunk self. “it’s not.”

“I’m gonna kiss you...” Mark announced with his alpha tone, not buying the lie. Although his statement should have sounded awkward, it made you shiver at the suspense. Through the tip of your fingers on his shirt, you felt his heart thump loudly in his chest. Was he nervous? Surely not, you bet he’d kissed a thousand girls in dark closets.

“Well…” You faked confidence again, acutely conscious of how hot he was now– in every possible way… Even if he was a disgusting manwhore. “Is it coming today or...”

Mark was still baring his toothy grin when your noses brushed. You’re the one who met his lips in the middle, surprisingly tilting your head to help.

He tasted of Caribbean punch, a mix between warm nights, fresh fruits and bonfire. It was addictive, not half-bad. Instantly, Mark’s kiss became insistent, his mouth opened against yours, adding pressure and you obeyed, too dazed to do anything or have second thoughts.

He was trapping you against the wall roughly, ravaging you. He had absolutely no mercy and you were pushing back with all your might to survive, hips, lips and hands all over. This wasn’t about the reality outside at all, any thought of the others completely vanished the second Mark slid his hand under your shirt. You let him do it, skin awaken by the touch, discovering a thousand new nerves on your body.

Yes, you had become another y/n.

That was the only explanation. A y/n that makes out in dark rooms with cool kids and grinds into them shamelessly, but just for seven minutes.

Seven extremely messy minutes.

Mark groaned in your mouth, skilled fingers caressing your stomach softly and you curved against him, craving more, possessed. Your skin was buzzing, like screaming, begging to feel him more. His left hand hiked up your body in a hurry, climbing under your t-shirt in your back and you prayed the door wouldn’t shed light on this scene. It would be terribly embarrassing; you were letting him put both of his hands up your shirt. Mark pressed his leg between yours that opened automatically, and your fingers entangled themselves in his hair, almost for support. He never broke the kiss. He too, probably knew better than to waste any second of whatever shared craziness this moment was.

“So good,” Mark grunted, words shaking to escape his throat and you opened your eyes in amazement, “but so bad.”

Shared hysteria. That was what this was.

You both weren’t done though. He adventured his left hand on the fabric of your bra and you froze briefly. Mark must have felt your hesitation because he kept it there. He didn’t push it further nor did he take it away and it felt weird. Like your heart was about to burst through your left breast for him to hold. Sometimes you dreamed of being touched like that, but it was even better than what you imagined, overpowering.

Even if it was by Mark Tuan, or perhaps even more frighteningly; because it was him. This was all Primate y/n’s doing, anyway, not yours.

The Reverend Mother would’ve had a heart attack if she knew where you were and with whom. Your head was spinning, imagination taking this even further. This deserved at least a thousand Hail Marys, a plethora of Rosaries.

“Fuck,” He whispered in your mouth, the sound like thunder. “Who knew.”

Not you.

You had no idea you were so easy, such a whore. He resumed kissing you as though this was perfectly normal, but perhaps he just couldn’t stop either. You could feel him through his pants, the bad boy wasn’t so unphased by you. This was so new, everything was exhilarating. Mark rocked between your legs, causing your eyes to roll back in your head. You were enjoying every second of this, you were right; Seven Minutes in Heaven with Mark Tuan was your own personal Hell. Whatever this was would haunt you later on for sure. The smell of his skin, the taste of his tongue, the touch of his hand. But you were shameless, you took it all. You didn’t have any second to waste before reality hit. Mark pushed against you again and you pressed closer involuntarily, wondering if he was doing it on purpose.

The direct friction on your tights and panties was going to make you lose your damn mind. You slid one of your own hands under his shirt to feel the abs you spotted earlier during the Strip or Truth game. You ran your nails on his body, and he moaned.

Mark Tuan, actually moaned while making out with you.

You stilled for a heartbeat, unsure if this was supposed to be good or not until he bit your lips, rolling it between his teeth. And you came alive again, because... Jesus. That was unexpected. And Lord, that felt like Heaven. Your hands slid to his back to pull him closer and Mark obliged, fingers caressing the curve of your boobs endlessly, every bit of skin not covered by your bra. In the moment, you wanted to ask him to touch you under the fabric, wanted to know if you would break, but your mouth was too busy being full of him.

As though he heard your thoughts, or unable to refrain from it anymore, Mark’s left hand finally slipped under your bra to touch your breast. He brushed your nipple, causing you to make another embarrassing inhuman sound, something low that he swallowed and kept to himself. Thankfully, Mark only became more eager after that. He used his other hand to press you harder on him through his pants, rolling his hips forward. Your whole body was ablaze, alive in a way it had never been before, and surprisingly Mark seemed as equally taken. His kisses were messy, his breathing on your face heavy as if he was running a marathon. According to your heart rate, you certainly were too.

Mark mumbled unintelligibly, something about his will failing and doing this sooner, as he slipped his free hand to where your thighs met. Before you could process what he said, he touched that forbidden place through your tights and panties, even just like that it felt overwhelming and dangerous. Instantly, you fidgeted and dug your nails in his skin. He hissed and stilled too, but you pulled at him, undecided on what you wanted to do next. Reality was still waiting outside that door.

“Mark…” He seemed to recognized the call for whatever it truly was, and his fingers started to move cautiously on the fabric.

“Shhh, don’t want them to hear, do we?” Mark’s head dropped in the crook of your neck to suck on your skin. Your whole body was humming at his touch, like wanting to be heard, to scream for the world to know.

Right. Reality. You covered your mouth with your hand, flustered. If you were still logical, sober and calm, you’d push him away, ask him to stop, but you didn’t want that. You wanted Mark to keep going, keep that up for an eternity, nothing else mattered. “Mark, this is s-so…”

Summoned, he grunted on your neck pleased you kept calling his name. “Good,” he asked, lips now brushing yours “being bad?”

Reprobate. Wrong. Lewd. Vile. Immoral. His fingers were still rubbing you, and you sighed, clinging to him, unable to say anything else. Perfect. Mind-blowing. Addictive. Perfectly right.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Hot.

“Me?” Hot. “Have you lost your mind?” You giggled and he joined, complicit.

“Yeah,” Mark’ hands abandoned their dirty deeds to cup your face, pulling you in for a deep kiss, “long ago.”

“When?” Seeing your frown, he grinned way too largely again. He was just about to answer when reality interrupted.

“ONE MINUTE!” Someone loud – very Bambam-esque – hit the door and you both jerked away, startled.

How many bases did you two run anyway? Suddenly, you wished you knew baseball enough to get the sexy metaphors. Was that only the first base? This felt like way more.

“Fuck,” Mark swore again, exhaling loudly. “Y/n, that was… so hot.” That word again. It was the first time someone used it to describe something about you. Then again, tonight felt like a night full of ‘firsts’. Mark reached for your skirt that had riled up your hips and pulled it downwards, hiding how far your game had gone. The fact that it was his first move gave away how accustomed he was to that kind of heated make-out sessions and you shook your head from side to side, remembering who you were with and why. Right. He was the player of Saint-Agnès de Roma, a manwhore… Surely that was why.

“Did you drop the card on purpose?” You asked hurriedly while he was making sure your t-shirt was back to its original place.

He blinked, staring at you for a long second like you were a dimwit. “Yes.”

“Why?” You were determined to leave this place with a clear answer.

“Well, y/n,” Mark murmured, pressing his lips on yours and running his tongue at the edge of them one last time, “I don’t think I could make myself any more obvious.”

“W-What?”

“TIME’S UP!” Someone yelled – yep, it was Bambam – letting the too cruel light shine on the scene inside the closet.

Thankfully, Mark was standing at a safe distance when the door opened. Still, he must have looked guilty somehow, because Jaebum applauded, impressed.

“Jesus Christ,” Jackson swore – a very rare occurrence – when he saw your ruffled hair and swollen lips.

Another day, you’d feel like hiding away, but, probably because of the rush of oxytocin and all that Caribbean Punch, tonight, primate you just shrugged it off. Your mind was caught up elsewhere, up in the clouds. No wonder that jerk was so popular with girls.

After those Seven Minutes in Heaven, you had learned three new things:

One, Mark Tuan could Jedi trick you into doing absolutely anything.

Two, you could make him lose his mind...

And three…

You sneaked a look his way while getting pulled by Jackson out of the (blessed) closet. Mark was strangely silent, letting his friends tease him without much reaction. He met your gaze and you misstepped, almost falling on the Wang’s luxurious carpet. Jackson caught you in extremis and your clumsiness made Mark snort, struggling to conceal his inhuman grin. There he was, making fun of you again.

And three... Tonight was obviously going to become a regular thing between you two.

And you weren’t the one making the rules.

|| M.List || GOT7 ||

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magicplanetanime · 5 years

Text

Let’s Watch HeartCatch Pretty Cure, Episode 1

I fully admit, I am a recent convert to the Pretty Cure cause. It’s not like I was never interested--I’ve loved magical girls since I first saw Sailor Moon as a kid--but it never quite seemed like the right time. I eventually picked up the currently airing Star Twinkle Precure at the start of its run, and I’ve been loving it! It’s a great series, and I highly recommend it.

It is also not what this blog is going to be about for the forseeable future. I’ve decided to take the plunge into the 49-episode Heartcatch Precure, and I will be using my blog over the coming weeks (and months?) to liveblog the experience.

I was interested in Heartcatch Precure for several reasons. Mostly the art style, and some whisperings I’d heard about one of the main characters. Nothing really prepared me for how the series starts though. To provide some context, Star Twinkle, the only Precure series I’m really familiar with, starts on a pretty lighthearted note. So I was really not expecting what I got out of the first scene here.

Because Heartcatch starts with someone dying.

Episode I - “I’ll Change! I’ll Show You I Can Change!!”

I took my first screencap 14 seconds into Heartcatch, and I say that without shame. The show looks absolutely gorgeous--even moreso in motion, I may end up forcing myself to figure out the arcane art of the gif recorder to fully convey what’s going on here visually. I expect this to drop off at some point, anime are often prettiest in their earliest and last episodes after all, but still, it’s one hell* of an introduction.

This introductory sequence captures a battle between the mysterious, beautiful Cure Moonlight, and what is presumably her evil counterpart. I knew nothing about any of these people watching this sequence and it was absolutely enthralling. The art strikes me as kind of Utena-influenced? I may be drawing off of a limited knowledge pool, though.

Moonlight is killed by her assailant, and the lone Precure’s last wish is that her fairies find successors worthy of succeeding where she failed.

No joke, this is a gutsy way to start a show aimed at kids. Children have capacity for the full spectrum of human emotion, and I do appreciate when a kid’s series treats them with the respect they deserve. Is it still for girls in gradeschool? Sure, but, right off the bat, Heartcatch seems genuinely interested in telling a story in the heroic tradition.

All this before we’re even introduced to our actual protagonist. Who was dreaming the scene we just saw.

I have a deep, genuine love of mahou shoujo protagonists. In my mind, none have ever done anything wrong. But this girl? This girl’s extra great, I can tell. Look at that character design! She’s so round!

Before we can learn much else, this girl (who we’ll shortly learn is named Tsubomi Hanasaki) arrives at the end of a roadtrip, and at her grandma’s house. Cut to OP.

The OP is very pretty as well, and seems to not-quite-spoil quite a few things. I want to give a nod to the fansubbers here (if you’re going to yell at me for piracy you should quick google “Precure, watch legally, English” and see how far you get) for the lovely subtitling done with the OP song.

Cut back to the episode and after a brief title card thanking the show’s sponsors (the only one I recognized was Yamaha, I suppose this was prior to the Precure brand’s partnership with McDonald’s) we get the long and short of Tsubomi’s backstory.

More importantly, we learn something that’s kind of surprising. I’ll let Tsubomi speak for herself here.

The general rule of thumb in magical girl series (including many of the other Precure shows), the character associated with colors like red, pink, and magenta is the brash, energetic one. Tsubomi being reserved is an interesting flip of that trope, she seems rather bookish, and is prone to embarassing herself. There’s a really funny bit just after this where she spots a 4-leaf clover in a flowerbed and asks it to grant her wish that she become more outgoing and friendly. Then she realizes she’s doing this in front of a bunch of people on her way to school, and, flustered, hurriedly scurries off.

Tsubomi introduces herself to her class. Trying to put on a bold face but failing, and then, after writing her name in a barely-legible size on the blackboard, this happens.

And that’ll be our second protagonist. This is Erika Kurumi, who is charming in her own way, and if I can confess, the main reason I became interested in this series, for reasons we won’t get to for several more episodes if I had to guess.

Tsubomi is a very relatable lead, but Erika even in these few introductory minutes, seems like a character a lot of young girls would identify with too. I know this was sometimes me as a young’n.

Random aside here, their teacher is quite nice too, and also pretty easy on the eyes in a soft butch sorta way. Is this how I know I’m getting old? Being attracted to anime characters’ teachers?

In any case, the (unintentional?) teasing leaves poor Tsubomi a little flustered. Though she quickly recovers when her class seem genuinely happy to get to know her.

Then it turns out that the only free seat in the classroom is next to Erika, to which Tsubomi’s reaction is, well, I’m not sure I could fish up an apt adjective for this particular splash screen.

The two have some lovely interactions during class. Including the shot that’s currently serving as my banner over on Anilist, but mostly, they banter, and the classic “clashing personalities” device is really put to good effect here. It’s almost a given that they’ll become close friends later on--possibly quite soon--but for now, you definitely get why they wouldn’t jive with each other.

10 minutes--goodness, we’re only that far in and I’ve already said so much--into the episode, we get to the main conflict. Namely, well, once again, a screencap summarizes it better than I could.

Erika is the last remaining member of the school’s fashion club, and needs someone else to join it. She attempts to recruit Tsubomi, who isn’t having it. Something of a rift having sprung between the two, they end up walking the same way home.

Like, all the same way home.

In a delightful convenience of plot, Erika and Tsubomi are neighbors.

A surprisingly pumpin’ pop-rock track swells in the soundtrack as Erika drags Tsubomi next door, promising to help her with the personal change she so desires. Erika’s the daughter of fashion designers, and it shows.

Still, despite her little smile here Tsubomi stands up for herself and tells Erika to basically cut it out. We’re also briefly introduced to Erika’s older sister Momo, who lightly scolds her younger sibling. As sisters do.

Erika, realizing she’s caused an issue, has something of a temper tantrum after Tsubomi leaves. All this miniature kid-drama, charming as it is, is enough to make you briefly forget that you’re watching a magical girl show, and a series as esteemed as Precure can’t have that, now can it?

Smash cut to these little ones.

These are the fairies that Cure Moonlight was beseeching in the intro. There’s no telling at this point how many years later on we are, but the evil Desert Apostles seem to still be at work, and the fairies seek out one Cure Flower, to alert her to their presence.

Below, Tsubomi is hanging out in a field, getting some fresh air after the earlier awkwardness and musing on the recurring dreams she has about Moonlight.

I think dear reader, that we all know the answer to that question.

The fairies, in distress and fleeing from the Desert Apostles, promptly do something they could not get away with on a similarly age-targeted show on American television, and hide by jumping down Tsubomi’s shirt. Which leads to a pretty dang weird segment where Tsubomi hides the fairies from this lady.

By….well, you can see the picture. This manages to be reasonably funny and only a little uncomfortably weird.

The Desert Apostle lady comes across Erika, sulking in a nearby park, and we get an immediate demonstration of how the whole “sad person-->monster for the protagonists to fight” flowchart works in Heartcatch. It is to the show’s credit that despite not really “showing” anything (remember: kids’ show), the transformation from person into a flower manages to look *incredibly* uncomfortable. Erika shouting her lungs out doesn’t help.

And about here, any even mildly-seasoned watcher of mahou shoujo series will know, is where things start to pop off.

To her credit, Tsubomi does try diplomacy.

But it doesn’t really take.

So we’ve got Tsubomi and the fairies being pursued by a vengeful, possessed, mustard-colored muppet doll. Something we learn is called a Desertian. Bonus points: being powered by Erika’s “flower of the heart” means that she yells half-coherent jealous nonsense about her sister.

As far as starter monsters go, this is a pretty effective one! It draws on an inner life of a character we already know a bit about, so the struggles that she faces that are reflected in the dolls ramblings make sense. There’s also some exposition here about heart flowers being separated from their hosts weakening the Great Heart Tree, the thing Cure Moonlight was defending in the opening scene.

Tsubomi promptly outdoes several anime airing at the time of this writing, and takes a brave stance against magically-induced slavery.

And then, the magic starts.

There’s some brief beating around the bush in a bit of the self-effacery that’s become common in the genre, but thankfully just enough to be charming and silly instead of over-the-top and forced.

But Tsubomi has the right idea.

And it’s here that I thank god for both youtube and the Pretty Cure fans that have gone before me, because there is nothing that needs to be seen in motion more than magical girl transformation sequences.

youtube

There is no one cooler than a magical girl who’s just transformed for the first time, and I firmly believe that in my maiden’s heart of hearts.

With Tsubomi’s first transformation into Cure Blossom, the episode ends, on quite the cliffhangar! I’m sure both Blossom and our pal Erika will be alright in the long run, but goodness, talk about a great first impression!

I didn’t really expect to devote this much text to just one episode but it was so impressive it was impossible not to. I’m really looking forward to the rest of the series.

I doubt all my posts will be this long, and I intend to combine multiple episodes into a single post in the future. Especially when we get to filler, since it’s hard to fill almost an entire day’s worth of video footage without putting in at least a few time-killers. Still, I’m loving this so far.

Tsubomi is a great protagonist. As someone who was also pretty shy and bookish in middle school, I really feel like a lot of girls must’ve really looked up to her. It’s a hard thing to measure, but I wonder just how many little girls she helped be just a bit more confident in their daily lives?

Such lofty musings aside, I’m excited to get to the next episode. Until then, you can peruse the promotionals after the final cut here. See you soon!

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If you enjoyed this post, you might enjoy my other anime-related writing. I have a weekly anime column at The Geek Girl Authority, and write occasional full-series reviews for Anilist.

If you wish to support my critical endeavors, you can support me on Patreon or Ko-Fi.

I can also be found on Twitter.

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*I don’t think many actual kids use tumblr, but I will attempt to keep swearing to a meaningful minimum, just in case~

#heartcatch #precure #pretty cure #heartcatch pretty cure #Heartcatch Precure

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