#it's going to be dramatic and dark and frustrating and sad and that's the fun of it!

[waverlyyhaught]

Favorite Marta and Fina Moments - Part 105 Sueños de Libertad, Ep. 203

[fadedpiink]

stay one-shot

best friend usopp x gn!reader

synopsis: something shifts between them, and nothing feels the same

contains: best friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, soft angst, emotional comfort, first kiss, confession, sunshine x anxious romantic, 1.3k word count

author's note: ilove usopp so much guysOMGG

you weren’t sure when it started. maybe it was the night he sat beside you during a storm, both of you pretending you weren’t scared — him of the thunder, you of the dark. or maybe it was always there, tucked between the laughter and the long conversations, hiding in plain sight.

either way, it lingered.

tonight, the crew had gone to sleep early. dinner had turned into storytelling — luffy loud, nami sharp, sanji floating somewhere between flirting and frustration. usopp had stolen a little extra time, like he always did, just for you.

you sat side by side on the deck, backs against the railing, knees brushing. the ocean was quiet, just soft waves against the sunny's side. he was rambling about a sea king he'd “totally defeated” once, hands moving wildly, eyes catching the lanternlight.

you smiled, chin on your arms. “you really gonna keep telling that story like it wasn’t a crab the size of a barrel?”

“hey!” he shot back, offended but not. “you weren’t there, you don’t know what kind of monster i had to face. besides, it was biting me.”

“it nibbled your boot.”

“semantics.”

you laughed, breathy and warm, and his smile softened like it always did when he got that sound out of you.

“you always do this,” you said quietly after a beat.

he glanced over. “do what?”

“make everything feel… okay. even when it’s not.”

his eyes lingered on you, searching for something. “well… you do that for me too.”

you nodded once, not trusting yourself to speak.

because the truth was — you didn’t know when being around him had stopped feeling like just fun, and started feeling like safety. like home. like something you weren’t supposed to need but somehow did, deep in your chest, behind your ribs where the big feelings go to hide.

“you ever think about what happens after all this?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

he tilted his head. “you mean… after the one piece?”

“yeah. like… where we go. who we’ll be. who’ll still… stay.”

usopp was quiet for a moment. not in a way that made you nervous — in a way that told you he was really thinking.

“i think…” he started, voice slow, “i think i want to build something. a home. maybe a workshop. something that’s mine.”

you turned to him, surprised. “really?”

he nodded, eyes on the stars now. “yeah. i think i’m tired of proving myself. i just wanna be. y’know?”

you did.

you really did.

“and…” he continued, more careful now, “i think i’d want people i care about to be close. people who’ve always been there.”

your heart skipped.

not in a romantic, sweeping way — in a quiet, maybe this is a turning point kind of way.

he turned to look at you again, and this time he didn’t look away.

“would you stay?” he asked.

the question wrapped itself around your chest. not desperate. not dramatic. just… real.

“if you asked,” you said, “i would.”

a beat passed. maybe two. he looked like he was about to say something, lips parting — but then he just smiled, soft and a little sad.

“cool,” he whispered. “cool.”

you leaned your head onto his shoulder, and he didn’t flinch or freeze like you half expected. he just leaned a little closer too.

the moment settled.

you sat like that for a while, the night pressing gentle against your skin, like the world didn’t need to move if you didn’t.

but then, right before you both stood to go back inside, he said it — just loud enough to be real, just soft enough to pretend it wasn’t.

“i think i love you. but i’m scared to ruin everything.”

you didn’t answer right away. just looked at him, eyes wide, breath caught somewhere halfway.

and then, almost too quiet for the sea to hear: “me too.”

he nodded, once.

you smiled. it trembled.

he reached out and took your hand anyway.

and for tonight, that was enough.

the days after blurred together, soft and strange and a little bittersweet.

it didn’t happen right away.

after that night on the deck — after the trembling “me too” and the warm press of his hand — you both fell back into a rhythm. one that still carried the same laughter, the same late-night talks, the same easy closeness.

but now… there was weight.

like every shared glance had something unsaid behind it. like every shoulder touch lingered just half a second too long. and usopp… usopp didn’t hide it well. he never had.

you’d catch him staring sometimes. looking at you like he was memorizing you for a goodbye he hadn’t spoken yet. like he was still deciding if he was brave enough to have you fully — or if having you halfway was safer. easier.

and you didn’t push. not because you didn’t want to. but because you understood.

you’d seen the way he doubted himself.

you knew the stories he told weren’t just entertainment — they were armor. carefully spun shields against a world that had tried too many times to convince him he wasn’t enough.

so you waited. because loving him meant knowing when to hold on quietly.

but tonight… something was different.

the ship had docked for supplies. most of the crew had gone into town — luffy dragging zoro toward food, nami muttering something about needing more tangerines. you and usopp had stayed behind, both of you pretending it was coincidence.

the sun was just starting to set, sky bleeding gold over the water. you were sitting at the top of the crow’s nest, legs swinging over the edge. you heard his footsteps before you saw him. careful. steady.

“thought you might be up here,” he said, settling beside you.

you smiled. “you always find me.”

he didn’t answer right away. just let the silence stretch, the wind lifting pieces of his hair.

“i haven’t stopped thinking about it,” he said finally. voice low. like if he said it too loud, it’d break.

you didn’t ask what “it” was. you already knew.

“me either.”

he looked down at his hands, like they held the answers.

“i keep playing it over. that night. the way you looked at me.” he glanced at you then. “the way it felt like i could breathe again and not at the same time.”

you laughed — soft and sad. “yeah. it kind of wrecked me a little.”

his head tipped toward you, eyes wide. “really?”

you nodded. “in a good way. but yeah.”

he exhaled slowly.

 then:

“can i tell you something?”

you turned to face him fully. “always.”

he fidgeted for a second — nervous, but determined. then he said:

“i don’t want to be afraid anymore. not of this. not of you.”

and then… quietly…

“i want to kiss you.”

your heart cracked open.

not from shock. not even from the tenderness. but from the relief.

like every minute you’d waited — every slow burn second of holding back — had finally found its reason.

you leaned forward, forehead brushing his.

“then do it,” you whispered.

he didn’t move at first. like he wanted to memorize the permission. then — gently, almost reverent — his hand came up to cup your jaw. calloused fingers, warm and shaking just slightly.

and then he kissed you.

not perfectly. not like the stories. his nose bumped yours. your teeth clicked.

but it was real. soft and steady and full of everything he hadn’t been able to say.

he pulled back first, eyes searching yours like he was scared he’d broken something.

but you just smiled. and leaned in again. because he hadn’t broken anything — he’d finally let it begin.

the second kiss was better. less careful. more yours.

when it broke, you didn’t move far. just stayed tucked against him, legs tangled, hands resting over his heartbeat.

“what now?” he asked into your hair.

you sighed, content.

“now we keep going. same as always. but this time… you don’t have to pretend you don’t want to hold my hand.”

he laughed, light and warm and real.

“deal.”

and right there, with the sea whispering below and the sky burning above, something shifted.

best friends, still. but no more pretending.

no more almosts.

just you and usopp, choosing each other

masterlist hope you enjoyed! please like + reblog to show support, and feel free to leave feedback and comments through rb tags, anon messages, or dms!

© fadedpiink 2025

[crimsoncold]

WHAT IT FEELS LIKE IN THE HOTD FANDOM RIGHT now as someone who is disappointed in the show's handling of team green and really just critical the show's writing in general

Team Green Stans and/or HOTD critics:

"I know I'm going to get a barrage of criticism or even hate/harassment for saying this but...

HOTD's writing is rather biased and strays from the source material in ways that are frequently ridiculous, fails to actually improve the story, and totally ignores the anti-war and the general targ/ruling class critical tone of GRRM's writing.

Yes villain or dark character centric shows can be really good even when the purpose of the story isn't to condemn their actions- BUT purposefully changing an adaptation of a story so that it no longer contains the original message/themes that did criticize the characters and their actions is at the very least a questionable writing choice.

The characterization and the messages of the show are inconsistent in a way that doesn't feel intentional or in order to make a point- instead it just doesn't make sense. ALL characters suffer due to the choices of the writers/showrunners- including team black- but team green is obviously getting the worst of it (seriously its cartoonishly bad). It's all so nonsensical and frustrating that it's getting harder and harder to watch- really at this point its no longer even a fun bad! show that can still manage to be entertaining even when the story itself sucks.

Much like with d&d with the later seasons of GOT it's disappointing to see the poor quality of work coming from paid professional writers, this could have been a show about a tragic and dramatic conflict between characters who are mostly bad people yet are still compelling or sympathetic and instead we got ...well...this."

Some Team Black Stans:

"Come on people HoTD is an adaptation so of course things will differ from the books but the show still stays true to the heart of the book, the changes were not a big deal- in fact some were good choices by the showrunners making more disturbing and violent aspects of the book more palatable for the audience without lessening their emotional impact... B&C was toned down not to whitewash team black but because no one should want to see the multiple child homicides from the book take place on screen...and the violence here really isn't as important to the plot as it was for say GOT's red wedding... toning the violent or horrific nature of these deaths down and having it occur off screen is the right thing to do! It's still sad- and this way we didn't need to traumatize the actors OR the audience!

Really people just stop complaining... both sides of the conflict are presented as EQUALLY culpable and in the wrong as the other side, team green stans are just missing the subtle points being made in the show and are exaggerating when they criticize the writing or supposed inconsistent characterization and accuse the showrunner's of being biased.

These TG stans are just being so mean and should stop criticizing the writers/showrunners-who are just doing their job!- and even if they feel they have to criticize the writing it's really just so inappropriate to ever specifically name the writers/showrunners when doing so! It's one thing for fandom to anonymously criticize other fans- especially since TG Stan's takes are so misguided that they obviously need someone to explain to them how they are misinterpreting things- but criticizing the professional writers and showrunners through tumblr posts is out of line! Its not the writer's fault that Alicent and TG are hypocritical or less likable than TB- that may just be how they are in canon- to say that the storytellers are purposefully changing things to make TG less sympathetic or competent than they were in the books and to set them up as the unlikeable antagonistic opposite to the now more tragic and heroic TB is a ridiculous accusation!"

Other Team Black Stans:

"Daemyra is just the best ship, they have loved eachother since she was a teenager and now after years of pining and being kept apart they are finally free to be together, you never see supportive or healthy relationships like this in asoiaf, we stan a man who will do literally anything and kill anyone for his niece wife.

Lucerys was just an innocent baby when he sliced up Aemond's face, he was just protecting his big brother, it only happened because he was afraid for their lives! Viserys made the right choice not to punish anyone since the team black kids only attacked Aemond after he stole Rhaena's dragon and Lucerys was only using self defense when he used a knife on Aemond. Most especially Lucerys and his mother didn't deserve to be attacked by that bitch Alic*nt. And Rheanyra trying to have Aemond tortured for calling her sons bastards was just her being a rightfully protective mother! Team Green means her family harm and no way will a bamf like Rhaenyra let that slide... this is what a good mother does not like that terrible Alic*nt! Lucerys' death was so tragic can't wait to see a grieving mother get her revenge... TG believes in an eye for an eye don't they? Well how will they like a son for a son?

TG stans keep saying that Rhaenyra is just as violent entitled and problematic as anyone else on hotd! They are so wrong! They are just delusional haters that can't stand to see a woman have sexual freedom and be in a position of power! She is the better daughter/wife/mother and the only people she hates are the ones who deserve it!

See she isn't evil like the Hightowers- B&C was an accident and the book description was exaggerated to be used as propaganda against Rhaenyra- she didn't even know it was happening. It wasn't even team blacks intent to kill little Jaehaerys only to kill Aemond- but he's a kinslayer so them sending someone to assassinate their nephew/brother is totally in the right and not something any character in canon would judge them for!... Rhaenyra is just too good of a person to wish harm on any of her innocent family members. Everything that happened to Rhaenyra, Rhaenys, and Meleys is just so tragic... they are the only true queens in this series ...god i wish all of their pain was only experienced by team green lol.

You know what ...are TG stans children or something? Why do they keep complaining that team green is being unfairly villainized to make team black look better? Don't they know they can just watch a show where the characters are flawed/bad people without needing the story to spoon feed the audience the message that bad people need to be condemned? Why do they take things so seriously? Why is this their whole personality? Get a life and stop overthinking a book/tv show -not everything needs to be deep you know so just shut up and enjoy watching the dragons destroy things.

But for real how can you people stan misogynistic women haters like team green or a trad wife/women for trump like Alic*nt? Like yikes what does your fictional character preferences say about you as a person. Hey EVERYBODY look these weirdos are really out here defending and woobifying violent predatory and sexist characters like team green! This fandom is the worse i swear lmfao."

Meanwhile...

Showrunners/Writers:

"What if the civil war, brutal violence, and tragic kinslaying that happened in the dance of dragons was really just a series of accidents and misunderstandings?

What if Rhaenyra and Alicent were friends who never really hated one another, and Alicent was pining for Rhaenyra's friendship and acceptance for the last 20 years, what if neither of them even wanted to go to war?

Who cares about house stark or the pact of ice and fire, or Jace's interactions with Cregan or Sara? You know what Sara Snow doesn't even exist, Jon i mean Jace would never betray his betrothal/loyalty/vows to his dragonrider soulmate and future wife for some stark girl! This whole stark side plot isn't important lets just go back to the dragons!

What if Rhaenyra wanted the throne because she knew that from her descendants the prophesied saviour/prince that was promised would be born? What if instead of her surviving son Aegon being so traumatized by the horrors of this meaningless war that he actually hated and feared dragons afterward- and supposedly was even responsible for killing the last one- it is Rhaenyra who was actually responsible for saving Daenerys' future dragon eggs- and thus she the one who ensured the return of dragons to Westeros! It will be Rhaenyra through her choices and her descendants that will be responsible for saving the entire realm and defeating the others with dragon fire!

What if Alicent pushing her son to be crowned was all because she was a fool who misunderstood the words of her dying husband NOT because she felt her son was unfairly robbed of his birthright by his father?

What happened with Daenerys in the later seasons of GOT was so unfair- just terrible writing -she NEVER should have been made out to be a mad queen and i bet Rhaenyra wasn't actually a cruel or violent ruler either! I bet it was the men who slandered her, and the men who were pushing for war and violence while all the women were actually trying to keep the peace.

Wait...wait.... What if everything in the book that criticized Rhaenyra was actually propaganda made by her enemies to ruin her reputation!?!!? Yeah B&C and team black arranging the horrific murder of a child? That story was TOTALLY team green exaggerating the violent murder of their child/grandchild. Daenerys I mean Rhaenyra deserved so much better... and all the injustices that happened to her will be the most impactful and tragic element of this show.

What if TG didnt actually have strong bonds with their dragon or spend much time riding them?... just more propaganda! Yes! CGI is expensive so this also means we dont really have to show their dragons unless they are fighting the blacks. Team Black's bond with their dragons is much more powerful and important though so we should still show them spending time together and riding them.

What if the book description of the respect and loyalty team green had to one another and the terrible grief they felt at the loss of their family members was ALSO just team green propaganda? What if Alicent only ever struggled as a mother and failed to connect with her kids and actually didn't even like or respect her children? How many kids did she have anyway? Three? Yeah that sounds right. Oh wait! Wait! What if none of TG got along with or trusted one other? No...no...What if they actually hated and betrayed each other? YESSSS!!!!!!!

Team black and their descendants are the true Targaryens, no one is really interested in the boring team green anyways so at least these changes will make them more interesting and better foils for team black! This type of story is exactly what people want I just know they are going to love it."

NOTE: (because i know idiots will be lurking in the anti tags to complain or harass people)

this is mostly meant to be very critical of the showrunners and somewhat critical of a specific type of stanning behaviour and the weird criticism or harassment that gets directed at people who like team green or who criticize hotd - sure i may be exaggerating slightly for effect but l'm STILL pulling from real posts/comments/opinions that I see from TB stans ...Like sure they aren't putting ALL of this in a single post but collectively this is definitely the type of attitude and language many TB stans have

Fandom is just about enjoying a special interest - I dont actually care about or want to police who you stan or ship. I DO care that some of you purposefully and directly harass real people because you disagree with their opinion on fictional characters and that some of you leave uncharitable, ignorant, critical, or unpleasant comments on properly tagged Team Green/anti or TB critical/or hotd critical posts.

Most of all i just find it really funny the juxtaposition there is between how underwhelming and juvenile the show's storytelling choices are compared to how eloquently, persistently, or vehemently fans will write up either criticism or defense pieces for these characters, this objectively bad show, and it's deeply unimpressive writing... like sure some fans put more effort into understanding the source material and comparing it to the show and some put more effort into criticizing or defending the show,the writing, or specific characters but collectively nearly all of us are putting in more time, effort, and thought into hotd than ANY of the showrunners/writers.

In conclusion Guys just like or dislike whatever show/characters you want...you don't have to justify the things you like by being willfully in denial about what canon sources say/the nature of certain characters/or the quality of the show's writing. You definitely don't need to be disrespectful or attack people on behalf of fictional characters or the well paid hbo showrunners/writers.

[somewherewithouttaxes]

Lavender Haze pt. 1

Summary: In which Gambit has been your best friend for years, but you can't handle his jealousy without commitment anymore. The shameless flirting and possession could only go so far.

pt. 1/?

Author's notes:

~ solid angst, but part two's angst is so high that I actually got so sad writing it that I had to close the computer for a few minutes and take a walk

~ AFAB reader.

~ the Cajun accent is not strong with this one. I didn't have enough patience.

~ reason for the title? Because of purple and alcohol idk.

~ if you see a mistake with the reader's pronouns (I instead of you), that's because I originally wrote it in first person perspective before realizing that I wanted to be more omniscient lol

~ fun fact: your club outfit is an actual outfit I have. It's cute as crap.

~ okay I'm done now. Enjoy!

You two were going out clubbing that night - or rather, you were, and invited him to tag along. "I thought I would go out in sweats and a hoodie," you winked at him through the mirror.

"What're you gon' wear?" Gambit leaned against your open bathroom doorway as you finished your face wash routine.

He rolled his eyes and feigned offense. "Come on. What're ya wearin'?"

"Something." Your eyes twinkled.

Gambit groaned and threw his head back dramatically. "Damn it, cher, ya really gon' make me beg for an answer?"

"You'll see!" You packed away your face wash supplies and turned to shove him out of the bathroom. "Unless you want to see me naked, skidaddle!"

Just as you grabbed the door handle to swing it shut, a cocky grin formed on Gambit's face. You held up one finger, poked him square in the chest, and slammed the door in his face.

"Don't keep me waitin' too long, darlin'!" He shouted through the door. "I'm gettin' impatient."

You didn't keep him waiting too. Only a minute later you unlocked the door, revealing the grand outfit for the evening. The top was of a sheer and mesh dark purple and black thread. The fabric clung to every major curve of your torso with reverence. The sleeves fit snugly along your entire arms until the wrist, where it cascaded into a drip of fabric - similar to a moth's wings.

Under the see-through purple cloth was a black tank piece, specifically designed only to cover the bra zone. The purple shirt was already hemmed to end right at the high-waisted belt line, but any movement of your arms above shoulder length sent the top rising an inch. Complimenting the purple, illustrious top was a simple pair of black shorts and would be your favorite leather black booties.

You may or may not have chosen the outfit for him.

"What do you think?" You offered, giving an excited spin. "I'm gonna have gold bangles, too."

He was speechless as he watched you come out of the bathroom, completely stunned by your appearance. Every inch of you was on full, tantalizing display, and he felt his mouth go dry as his eyes roamed over you.

Finally, he managed to find his voice.

"Sweet... Jesus," he muttered, his voice low and rough with desire. "Damn, darlin'... you look gorgeous. Absolutely goddamn gorgeous."

"Like what you see?" You laughed, playfully kicking your leg back.

"Like it? Chere, I love what I see," he said, his eyes still drinking you in. "Damn, I... I don't think I'm gonna be able to keep my hands off you tonight."

"You need to allow me at least two dances with strangers." You scolded him with a finger. "I need to grind on at least two strangers to get free booze."

You never danced with other men when you did go out, which was a rarity, and always with the other women. This was your first time going with Gambit, and if you were telling yourself the truth, you had no idea why you were lying. The free alcohol came without effort.

He groaned at your comment, feeling a possessive pang of jealousy course through him at the thought of other men dancing with you.

"Cher..." he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Two goddamn dances? Ain't that a bit excessive?"

"I plan on getting shit-faced. Are you gonna buy all my booze?" You cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't think so."

He couldn't help but laugh at your retort, begrudgingly admitting that you had a point. Still, his possessive nature was rearing its ugly head.

"Ugh... alright, alright. Two dances with strangers. But that's it," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "And don' ya dare get too... friendly with any of those men, ya hear me?"

"What are you gonna do if I get a little friendly?" You scoffed as you began the plunge into your makeup bag.

He narrowed his eyes at you as you began digging through your makeup bag. He walked over and stood behind you, his chest pressed against your back. He leaned down and spoke in a low, warning tone.

"You don't wanna know what I'll do if you get too friendly, mon ami," he said, his hand sliding around to your waist. "But trust me, you won't like it."

You hummed and leaned over the counter to be closer to the mirror to apply the eyeliner and mascara. "A girlie has needs, Mr. LeBeau. Sometimes, that need is a pity-fuck."

His grip tightened on your waist. His temper was flaring up at the mention of you being with another man, despite his brain knowing that you were probably just trying to piss him off.

"Damn it, darlin', you know exactly how to push my buttons, don't ya?" He said, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you can just throw that kinda talk out there and expect me to be fine with it?"

You leaned back slowly, turning my body only halfway to look at him. "I'm not yours to be fine for, Gambit."

His expression darkened at your words, the possessive urge rising in him even more. He couldn't stand the thought of you being with other men. It drove him crazy.

"Oh yeah? Then who the hell do you belong to, Chere?" He snapped, his red eyes locking with yours. "Cause you sure as hell don't belong to any of those other men. You're mine, goddammit."

"Take a step back," you ordered calmly. Too calmly. Ice cold.

Gambit hesitated for a moment, his muscles tensing at your commanding tone, but he took a slow, reluctant step back, his hard eyes still locked on yours.

You glared into his eyes. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that again.”

He stood there, taken aback by your sudden shift in attitude. It was rare to see you lose your cool like this.

"I'm... I'm sorry, cher," he said, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I shouldn'ta said that. It was possessive and... controlling. I didn't mean to-"

"Mhm." You turned back to the mirror, returning to the mascara.

Gambit stayed silent for a moment, watching as you returned to your mascara. A mixture of guilt and shame coursed through him.

After a while, he spoke up in a quieter tone. "I'm sorry, darlin'. I don't know what came over me. I just get so jealous and... and possessive, and I can't stand the thought of you with another man. But I know I have no right to act that way... I'm sorry."

"No, you do not." You blinked your one dolled-up eye. "If you really wanted to have a right to talk like that, you wouldn't be off fucking other women every other week."

He flinched at your words, guilt washing over him once more. He knew he had no defense against your accusation - it was true, after all. He had been with endless other women since he met you, and now here he was, getting angry at the thought of you doing the same thing.

"I... I know," Gambit sighed heavily. "I know I don't have the right to be possessive like that. It's just... it's hard. It's hard to watch you with other men, especially when they're eyein' you up like pieces of meat."

"If I'm allowing them to eye me like a piece of meat, that's my own business."

He clenched his jaw, hating how right you were. He knew he had no right to dictate how you behaved or who you talked to. But damn it, he couldn't help the jealousy that gnawed at him every time he saw another man looking at you.

"I know, I know," he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "It's just... it drives me crazy when they're lookin' at you like that, touchin' you. I just want to knock 'em out every goddamn time."

"Then don't come with me. But I'm going."

He let out an exasperated sigh, knowing that he wasn't going to win this argument. "Alright, alright," he said finally, relenting. "I'll come with you. But I'm not gonna be happy about it, darlin'."

You nodded curtly, blinking your eyelashes. "Gold eyeshadow, do you think? To match the bangles?" You offered, pivoting the conversation.

He let out a small sigh as you expertly changed the subject, grateful for the distraction from the tension.

"Yeah, gold eyeshadow sounds like a good idea, darlin'," he said, leaning against the wall again. "It'll go well with your top and jewelry. And..."

He couldn't help but let his eyes wander over your top, taking in your curves yet again.

"It'll look good on you either way, cher."

You smiled and rummaged for the metallic palette.

He watched as you dug through your makeup bag, his eyes still roaming over you involuntarily.

"You almost done, darlin'?" he asked, his voice low and a little strained. "We gotta get going soon."

"We have all damn night!"

He rolled his eyes at your words, fighting off the urge to grab you and pin you up against the counter right then and there. You were making things harder for him - in every sense of the word.

"You're the one who's taking so damn long," he said, his voice ragged with desire. "I'm getting real impatient over here."

"You're going in that?" You asked, pointing your eyeshadow brush at his clothes. "Nothing wrong with them. But a girl has to doll herself all up like she's going on a red carpet. Then you have the men out in jeans and dirty boots." You considered this before laughing. "But I suppose it is an even payoff."

Gambit looked down at his clothes, realizing that you were right - he wasn't exactly dressed to the nines for the night. But then again, men didn't need to dress up as much as women were expected to.

"You got a point, doll," he said, running a hand through his hair. "But you, on the other hand..." His eyes roamed over you once more, taking in every inch of your body.

"You look absolutely goddamn stunning."

You flipped your hair dramatically over your shoulder, ignoring the heat rising to your neck.

He couldn't help but chuckle at your dramatic flair, thoroughly enjoying every second of your performance. But the heat rising to your neck did not escape his notice.

"Don't get all shy on me now," Gambit teased, stepping closer to you. "I know ya love it when I compliment you."

"Who wouldn't?" You swooped the golden powder across your eyelids with expert precision.

He let out a low whistle of appreciation as he watched. "Damn, cher, you're a regular artist with that brush," he said, his eyes roaming over your face. "But you'd look even better without it."

"Now you're just lying."

Gambit laughed and shook his head, taking another step closer to you.

"No, darlin', I'm definitely not lying," he said, his eyes locked with yours. "You always look beautiful, makeup or no makeup. But there's just something about how you look up close and without all that stuff on..."

He leaned in even closer, his body mere inches away from yours.

"I can't get enough of it."

You ducked your face, humbly smiling and continuing the last steps of the makeup.

"See? There it is," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "That adorable little bashful smile. You're a puzzle, darlin' - confident and sexy one minute, then shy the next."

"Women have layers, Remy," you deadpanned, though smiled.

He chuckled at your deadpan comment, thoroughly amused by your wit.

"Oh, I know all about women and their layers, darlin'," he said, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. "That's what makes you guys so damn intriguing."

He studied your face for a moment, admiring the way the golden eyeshadow made your eyes pop. Your eyes flitted minutely to his through the mirror, choosing to ignore the flutters in your stomach and heart.

He dared to bring one hand up to gently pinch your hip. You giggled and smacked his hand away. "You're moaning and bitching about me taking so long, but you're here distracting me!"

Gambit laughed at your retort, reluctantly conceding to your point.

"Alright, alright," he said, taking a step back and holding his hands up in surrender yet again. He gave you one last lingering gaze, unable to resist eyeing you up yet again, before turning and walking out of the bathroom.

You selected the most medium-sexy lip gloss in your arsenal. A deep pink, barely edging into red territory, but still dull enough to not contrast against the metallic golden accents of the eyes and wrists.

You emerged from the bathroom not five minutes later after slipping on the leather boots, giving him one last spin to show the finished product.

Gambit's jaw dropped as he took in the sight of you in your completed outfit. The top, the shorts, the makeup, the boots - all of it together was an absolute sight to behold. He couldn't help but let out a low whistle of appreciation.

"Mon ami..." he breathed out, his eyes roaming over you hungrily. "You look like a goddess."

"Just what I like to hear." There was no suppressing the blush this time, but that was okay.

He smiled as he noticed the blush spreading over your cheeks, finding it endlessly endearing. You were still trying to maintain your confident demeanor, but he could see the cracks in the armor.

"Damn right you like hearing it," he said, rising to his feet and sauntering over to you. "But then you already know how good you look, don't you, chere?"

"Shush your face." You grabbed your purse and walked out the door without another word.

Gambit rolled his eyes at your flippant response, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. You were stubborn as hell, and he loved it. He watched as you walked out the door, his eyes glued to your hips in those damn shorts.

He caught up with you near the garage. You were approaching his car, not yours.

You winked. "You're driving home."

He chuckled at your wink and nodded in agreement. "Fair enough, darlin'," he said, fishing the car keys out of his pocket. "Just try not to distract me too much while I'm driving."

He opened the car door for you, unable to resist giving you one more quick once-over as you climbed into the passenger seat. His eyes lingered on your legs, those damn shorts already driving him wild.

"Careful," Gambit warned, shutting the door behind you. "Keep looking like that and I won't be able to keep my eyes on the road."

You laughed out loud and covered your lap with your purse, which only covered about 50% space. "You big baby."

He shot you a mock-glare, trying to ignore the way your smirk was making him feel.

"You're so damn cocky sometimes, darlin'," he said, starting the car and pulling out of the garage. "You know exactly what you're doing to me in those shorts, don't you?"

Your heart settled in your throat, not able to tell if his flirtations were genuine or womanizing. As always.

"They're not for you." You stared out the window, watching the mansion's beautiful property scenery pass us by.

He scoffed at your words, the jealousy burning in him at the thought of other men eyeing you up in those shorts.

"Then who the hell are they for?" He asked, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "You tryin' to catch someone else's eye?"

"They're for booze, my dude. They are for booze." You picked at your purse's zipper. "And can't I sometimes just want to show off my God-given body?"

Gambit gritted his teeth at your nonchalant response, trying to quash the possessive instincts that were rearing their ugly head once more.

"Sure, darlin'," he said, his voice tight with irritation. "I understand that. But damn it, it's hard to watch other men droolin' over you like meat."

"Oh my god..." You propped your chin up with your elbow against the door. "I cannot keep having this same conversation over and over!"

He let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that you were right. The same old argument played out every time you went out.

"I know, I know," he said, his temper slowly cooling down. "I just... I just can't help it, darlin'. I can' stand the thought of other men oglin' you and touchin' you."

"You don't hear me bitching about the other women that are gonna be jumping on you."

Gambit grumbled at your comment, knowing that you had a point. He had been hit on plenty of times in the past, and it didn't bother him as much as thinking about other men touching you. Other men thinking they had a claim on you.

"Yeah, well... that's different," he said, his jaw clenching slightly. "I can handle myself with those women. But... you're different."

"Excuse me?" You exclaimed incredulously.

He let out a frustrated huff, trying to find the right words to explain himself.

"You're just... you're special, darlin'," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "The thought of other men even looking at you that way just drives me crazy. I can't stand it."

"What if I told you that I can't stand when other women look at you?" You shot back.

Never before had you fought such like this. Your comments about other men were mostly jokes, but knowing - and personally seeing - his reputation, there was no reason why both of you had to be sad and lonely that night. His hypocrisy had never bothered you such like that evening.

You had to take several deep breaths not to demand he pull over the car right there.

He sat in stunned silence for a moment, taken aback by your response. He had never considered that you might feel the same way about other women looking at him as he did about men looking at you.

"You... you mean that, cher?" He asked, his voice cracking with surprise and just a hint of vulnerability.

Your head snapped to the left, eying him for any humor or gripe. At the sheer study of his expression and tense hand on the wheel, your eyes lowered and your head trailed back to stare out the window.

"No," was all you could whisper as you buried your mouth in your hand.

He let out a heavy sigh, the tension in the car palpable as you both sat in awkward silence. He knew that you were feeling just as frustrated and possessive as he was, even if you didn't want to admit it.

"Look, darlin'," Gambit said finally, his voice low and gravelly. "I know it's not fair. But can you blame me for being jealous? You're..." He paused, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the words.

"What?" Your eyes barely craned to the left, your head not moving.

He took a deep breath, his grip on the steering wheel tightening yet again.

"You're... you're mine, darlin'," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "And I don't wanna share you with anyone else. I want you all to myself."

One couldn't cut the tension with the world's strongest shears. You bit your lips in on themselves, likely ruining the perfect lip color and the perfect face and the perfect facade.

"No, I'm not," your whisper was harsh. But the harshness was directly internally, not externally.

His heart clenched at your words, the pain in your whisper cutting him deep. He had never heard you sound so upset before, and it shook him to his core.

"Darlin'..." he started, but his voice trailed off, his throat suddenly dry. He had never been good at expressing his feelings, but he felt like he was losing you with every word you said.

"Just stop, Remy. Please."

He closed his mouth with a snap, silenced again by the pain in your voice. He didn't know what to say, what to do to fix this. All he knew was that your words had shaken him to the core, and he needed to find a way to make things right between you.

He took a shaky breath before speaking, his voice rough and vulnerable.

"I'm sorry, darlin'. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just... I just can't stand the thought of losin' you."

The car was downtown now, just pulling onto the first busy business street of the nightlife district. You gripped your purse tight with one hand and grabbed the door handle with the other. "Let me out here."

Gambit's eyes widened in disbelief, panic seizing his chest as he realized what was happening. He slammed on the brakes, the car jerking to a stop.

"What? No, chere," he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. "Please, don't do this. We can talk about this, we can figure it out."

You said nothing before yanking on the handle, stepping out, and making a very conscious effort not to slam the car door behind you. You took off a steady pace down the sidewalk before the next breath could cross your lungs.

He watched in horror as you walked away, his heart racing with panic. He couldn't believe this was happening, that you were leaving him like this. He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and jumped out of the car, running after you.

"Y/N, wait!" Gambit called out, his voice strangled with anxiety. "Please, we need to talk about this!"

You walked into the first club your eyes could land on - conveniently only five doors down.

Gambit followed closely behind you, barely resisting the urge to grab your arm and force you to stop. He followed you into the club, a look of desperation on his face. He didn't care about the music, the people, the lights, nothing except getting you to stop and talk to him.

"Y/N, please, stop for a minute," he pleaded, his voice rising over the club's music. "Can we just talk about this? We don't have to end things like this!"

"We're not ending things. I'm getting a drink," you stated to the entire room, not knowing or caring if he heard you.

"Y/N, just listen to me for a minute," Gambit said, grabbing your arm and pulling you to a quiet corner of the bar. "We can work this out, I swear. Just don't do this."

"Get your fucking hands off me!" You yanked your arm away.

He recoiled at your angry response, hurt and confusion etched across his face.

"Darlin', I just... I just wanted to talk to you," he stuttered, his eyes scanning your face, searching for any hint of forgiveness. "Please, can we just talk?"

"I am getting a drink." The words barely made it past the hurdle that was the lump in your throat. You swiftly dipped past his body, letting yourself get absorbed in the mob.

[hmshermitcraft]

The dungeon is alive, a well known face about tangos creation.

How it came to be that way is where fact falls away to fiction.

Some say that tango made a foolhardy deal with some greater entity so that his game could flourish and now the restless spirit of the servants of the damned walk the halls and breathe sighs of death through the maze of terrible beauty

Some say that the deep dark is inherently haunted by something so distinctly Other that it'd be a disgrace to call the citadel anything but truly alive.

But, for all the traps and murder, the dungeon breathes nothing but love.

Tango puts everything he has into that place out of love for his hermits. Decked out is safe, it's safe for everyone who enters it's halls because tango felt nothing but adoration as he built it from the ground up.

Ravagers know when to play their roles, when to be unyielding killing machines and when to be the overgrown puppies they are. Gem was once having a hard day and wanted to do some runs to let off some steam but was having an especially hard time with keys. The ravagers cornered her and instead of killing her like she thought, they laid down around her and comforted her until tango came by with a key, a kiss, and a promise to give a once over to the rng that dispenses the keys.

Etho once had his fear of the dark overwhelm him while deep in level three, frozen in panic as the heartbeat of decked out continued to quicken. Tango tried to make his way to him fast enough so the wardens didn't tear him apart and make a bad situation worse. Luckily he didn't really need to worry, one of the wardens sat close to Etho, allowing him to rest his face against its glowing horns.

The mobs act this way, protective and careful, because tango unknowingly rewrote the code of the world. There is so much love in this project, this living thing he made from the ground up, that the very laws of the world have been rewritten to show it. Under the frozen exterior and murderous intent, the dungeon is nothing but a decoration of affection.

Tldr, tango loves his friends and partners so much that it rubbed off on decked out's sentience.

-s

Past the posturing of death, the dungeon wants its players to have a fun game. Month after month, Tango built the dungeon with thoughts of his partners running through it and enjoying themselves. It was always his goal. Sure, he likes to be dramatic about wanting players to die and lose, but that's the real mission.

He's only slightly jealous that the dungeon can read his hermits better than he can. It seems know intrinsically when frustration or sadness or fear crosses the threshold into genuine, and it'll silently adjust accordingly. Mobs turning the other way or the right drop appearing at the right time. Tango laughs and jokingly chides it about going easy on them, but he's grateful he's not the only one looking out for his hermits.

Decked Out looks after her master as well. It's not uncommon for Tango to fall asleep down in the wiring, bundled up in his cloak. What is becoming more common is that he'll wake in somebody's cubby instead, carefully tucked in. Sometimes the hermit will still be there, cuddling him. He should be upset they're looking at the redstone but...

He trusts his dungeon. He knows it won't do him wrong.

[bell-of-indecision]

✨I ranked all the indian stuff I watched in 2023✨

For context, this July I finally gave in to my decade-old urge and dove head first into indian culture. It's been nothing short of phenomenal. The more people I meet, the more foods I try, the more music I listen to, the more Hindi I learn, the more I fall in love with India.

Although I became more of a TV serial person, eventually, I gave in to the movies as well.

So here's everything I watched, ranked from worst to best.

(I'm sorry in advance)

10. Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani

This movie is useless, I'm so sorry. Somehow, it fooled me into thinking Naina was the main character, then the whole thing became about Bunny and I was so confused, who was I supposed to care about anyway? Can't complain though, Naina is a boring and uncharismatic cliché, I couldn't care less about her, had she disappeared midway into the story, I would've been thankful. Avi, Bunny, and Aditi, on the other hand, are loveable characters that deserved to be in a better movie — especially Aditi, I liked her so much. Too bad the movie seems to be about absolutely nothing. There was a message, I think, but it felt so shallow it didn't even matter to me, there was no actual relevance, no lesson, no impact, nothing. Maybe I'm stupid, but this movie is a drag. And the soundtrack SUCKS, Ilahi is the only good song in it.

2.8/10

9. Bhool Bhulaiyaa 2

The very first Bollywood movie I've ever watched. I wanted to like it so bad, it makes me sad that I didn't. Is it a comedy? A horror story? A dramatic murder mystery? Somehow, it's all of these and none at the same time, it can't decide on a tone to save its life, not even the humor can decide on what exactly it wants to be (most of it is just bad). The main couple has negative chemistry, their romance is so bland it's almost funny. Ruhan carries the whole movie on his back and is the only character with enough charisma to make me care, I honestly love this guy. His scene where he pretends to be possessed is incredible, and Tabu as Anjulika was great too. The plot twist was really nice, possibly the only good thing about the whole story, but then the movie ends so abruptly and on such a heavy note that it almost made me sick when the upbeat theme song started playing immediately after. This movie could not read the room, everything about it throws me off.

4/10

8. Jab We Met

Aditya is a dream, Geet is kind of a nightmare. I have nothing against characters that are lively, optimistic, and cheery, but they have to be bearable, she was just way too much for me. I loved Aditya's character development, it was fun and endearing to watch. The movie itself is not bad, just overrated. Nagada Nagada slaps though.

6/10

7. War

I wanted to love this movie just as much as it wanted to have a good twist. We both failed. Underestimating the audience's intelligence is one thing, but toying with us and making us feel like fools for the sake of a “big reveal” is something else. And no, it wasn't worth it. It wanted to be surprising, but it was just frustrating, shocking for all the wrong reasons. The action was fire though, no complaints there, and I loved the relationship dynamic between Kabir and Khalid, I would watch 11 seasons of those two going on missions with their team and fighting together, their chemistry is so good, I enjoyed every second of their scenes.

6.4/10

6. Arjun: The Warrior Prince

As a Mahabharat fan, I had hopes, but that's on me. Loved the way the story was presented to the audience, simple but brilliant. Shaheer Sheikh's Brihannala altered my brain chemistry, and I was elated to see her again. The animation was gorgeous, that goes without saying. I just hated how it ended right before the war, right where Arjun has some of his best moments, and hated even more how they practically erased Krishna from the story. At least they made him dark skinned this time.

6.7/10

5. My Name is Khan

Had this been based on a true story, I would've been the biggest fan of this movie to ever exist, I am a sucker for movies based on real life stories. Still, despite the disappointment of finding out this whole thing — as good as it was — was fictional, I see it as a touching, lovely, honest, and relevant story that kept me interested and broadened my horizons. Say whatever you want about allistic actors playing autistic characters, Shah Rukh Khan sold the heck out of this character and I bought it like the big neurodivergent fool that I am. I see a neurodivergent character onscreen, I am immediately on-board and loving them despite all their scripted flaws because “they're just like me fr”. "Marry me", indeed.

7/10

4. Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani

Is it innovative and groundbreaking? No, but it is so much fun. It's deep and honest enough, charismatic and funny enough, it's just good entertainment with a good message. I expected nothing to be honest, either way, the story just kept getting better? The dynamics kept getting deeper and more complex? Wait a minute, this was actually good! I went in for the soundtrack — I'm obssessed with Dhindhora Baje Re — but I stayed for everything else. I laughed out loud many times, I shed some tears, I rooted, man, this movie made me feel actual things! What a lovely surprise.

7.9/10

3. The Railway Men

I went into it with such high hopes. Some of them were met, but part of me was left unsatisfied. As I said before, real stories are my favorite, but the way this show was presented feels too much like fiction. Good fiction, but still. And I know it’s not fiction. I am aware that many creative liberties were taken, and I'm not against them, at all, but the thing is: I could see them, I knew they were there. When I watched HBO’s Chernobyl, I was fully convinced that everything that was presented in the show was reality, exactly how it had happened, and I doubted nothing. I was shocked when they revealed that Ulana Khomyuk was a character created to represent many scientists that were involved in the incident. I had eaten her up, and I still can't believe she wasn't a real person. The Railway Men feels like the opposite of this, most of it feels like a creative liberty, very little reads as a real event, a real interaction, or a real person. I doubted a lot of what I saw, and had to do some research to fully understand what exactly had been real. But like I said, it was still good. I found myself caring deeply for each and every character, no matter how minor, I deeply empathized with their pain, rooted for them, cried with them, cried for them. It's heartbreaking, gut wrenching, revolting, yet it still manages to be inspiring. Why I never learned about Bhopal before watching this show is beyond me, but at any rate, I will be recommending this show to everyone I know.

8.1/10

2. Brahmāstra: Part One – Shiva 

I will defend this movie's honor, I don't even care. I loved it so much that I made my mom watch it with me the next day, and she loved it. The dialogue is cringy, yes, unbearably so, some lines make my skin crawl. But COME ON, the plot is great, the concept is creative, the visual effects are wonderful, the soundtrack is divine —Mohan is dreamy— hear me out, I was hooked, on board, immersed, you name it. This movie made me feel so excited, I felt like a 7-year-old watching a super hero movie and wanting to have cool powers just like those, I honestly can't remember the last time a movie made me feel this energetic. Do I understand why Shiva and Isha were so deeply in love despite having met each other a week ago? No, but I was still rooting for them. Do I understand why sometimes people yell out the Astra’s powers in order to activate them like the Power Rangers? No, neither do I vibe with it, but do you think it mattered? The next moments were so freaking cool that I completely forgot what I wanted to complain about. (Oh, and Saurav Gurjar was in it! I gasped so loud when I saw him on screen, and playing a villain no less!) I was genuinely sad when it ended, I would've watched three more hours of that, despite the terribly written lines. I will fight for this movie and forgive every bad line of dialogue if it kills me.

8.7/10

1. Mahabharat (2013)

In case you haven't noticed, I am absolutely obssessed with Mahabharat. Initially, I’d decided to face the 267 episodes of this show because watching stuff in your target language is a good way to learn (also, that Krishna guy was very easy on the eyes, looking at him a bit more surely wouldn't hurt). It took me a few episodes to really get into the story, but once I did, oh boy, I was so hooked on the plot I even forgot about the language (although I did learn some words from it). The thing about this show, other than the freaking superb plot and phenomenal cast, are the characters. They all made me feel something. And that's the thing with characters, I believe, they don't necessarily have to be good or bad, morally speaking, they have to be well-written and entertaining, they have to make you feel things, positive or negative. Shakuni, a villain, was freaking great because of how good he was at being bad. And the good guys, like the Pandavas, weren't just good, that'd be boring, they were also charismatic, unique, funny, inspiring, and sometimes morally grey, which made them even more interesting, even more human. Watching them get in conflict with their morals when things got dark was insane. Even when they messed up —I'm looking at you Dharmraj— I still wanted to see them win. They felt like family, I watched them grow, I felt so close to them that their struggles and victories felt like my own. “My boys”, I call them. Mahabharat is my Roman Empire, man, I could talk about this show for HOURS. Anyway, this became my favorite show of all time and I'm so glad I didn't let the number of episodes scare me away. (And yes, I am still very much in love with Saurabh Raaj’s Krishna, he is probably one of my favorite characters ever, my heart raced when I first saw him and it still does to this day, BYE)

9/10

Oh, this ended up being a Top 10. Nice.

I both thank you and applaud you for reaching the end of this ramble that is ultimately just a result of my obsession with making lists and ranking literally everything. And also my admiration for indian culture.

I would've included Porus and Chandragupta Maurya but I'm not yet finished watching them, but I thought I should say: I am liking them a lot.

What do you people think I should watch next year? Recommendations are welcome!

✨🇮🇳 ✨

[ursaribbon]

What Modern Pokemon Means to Me

I've felt this way for so long, and I can't just not talk about it anymore. I'm hoping to find more people who feel this way, and I think Tumblr is the best place to do so. (cw: su/c/de)

In elementary school, I was cheerful and loud all the time, and people thought I was weird for it. I had been told my whole life that I was so unique and special, and since I only got that validation from adults, I would do everything in my power to get more validation by doing whatever adults told me to do and valuing whatever they told me to value. I was almost blindly obedient, and I sought academic validation. I started masking my ADHD. I was so stiff on the outside that I rarely cried anymore, especially at things other people would cry over. I felt like there was something wrong with me, or that I really was emotionless.

When puberty started and genetic mental illnesses came into play, I became a husk. I never displayed emotion, and people called me a zombie. I was frustrated. What did they want from me if I couldn't be loud or quiet? Classmates would ask me unprompted if I was depressed, exchange an amused look with their friends if they were paired with me for a group project, and whisper about me when they thought I couldn't hear.

Since I was a preteen, I would continually push away the people in my life because I had mental health issues that made it draining to talk to people. I wanted to spend all my time alone because I wanted to rest--I constantly wanted to be left alone in silence because everything going through my head was already too stimulating. My younger brother, my biggest supporter, would try asking me to play with him or try to talk to me about something he was excited about, and I pushed him away every time. He thought it was because I was tired and lazy all the time, because that was what I told him. He began to resent me for always leaving him alone, and even though I never tried explaining myself or even going to him for support, I thoroughly believed it was my fault for leaving him behind.

People who make fun of "teenage angst" are just making fun of themselves for what they see as "dramatic" looking back. It's easy to forget that regardless of what hormones generate them, feelings of depression are real and harmful. It felt like no matter where I turned, there was no light to overcome the darkness.

Gens 7 and 8 of Pokemon have gotten me through the worst of my teenage and pre-teen years. I had been following the Gen 6 anime by the time it was ending, and I was so excited for the next chapter of Ash's journey. I remember going around school telling everyone, "ASH LEAVES KALOS ON THURSDAY! NOVEMBER 17!!!" Not many people wanted to hear it, but for what felt like the first time in forever, I didn't care. I was already known as a zombie at school, and there weren't many things I unapologetically loved so much.

I was in middle school when covid hit. During online school, I felt lonely, scared, and sad. I had the rest and lack of stimulation I had always wanted, but I didn't realize how much it helped to be at school where I was forced to interact with other people. When I was really alone with my thoughts, I couldn't find a reason to live anymore. I was having s//c/d/l thoughts. One day during my lunch time, as I nibbled at my sandwich with my head down on the desk, I decided I may as well catch up on the latest episodes of Pokemon Journeys.

The Beautifly episode was playing, but I was only half paying attention, barely able to focus on anything. Ash had misheard and thought they were going to watch Beautifly hydrate, and Goh had a short fantasy about a Beautifly laying on the beach with a cup of juice before realizing the mistake.

He phrased it something like:

"Yeah, they look so peaceful when theY HYDRA-HOLD ON!!!!"

And I just died laughing.

I knew the joke wasn't funny. The funny part was Zeno Robinson's delivery. I must have replayed it ten times. It was the first time in months that I'd felt like everything was okay.

I even showed the scene to my brother. We both laughed at it for at least ten minutes. It was so nice to share something with him.

I became a bigger fan of the show, and started shipping Ash and Goh. It wasn't because Goh was flamboyant, although I won't deny that many fans assert him to be a certain sexuality based on how he presents himself, which is stereotyping at best and homophobic fetishization at worst. I ship the characters because I think they're compatible and are just cute together. That was when I found the Satogou Discord server.

I had never really had online friends like the ones I had on that server. For what felt like the first time, I had found people I could talk about anything with for hours. While progress wasn't a straight line, I was beginning to have s//c/d/al thoughts less and less because the people and media in my life filled me with light to overcome that darkness.

And then episode 62 aired.

In that episode, Goh's Sobble evolves into Drizzile. It was so excited to be an Inteleon that it didn't realize there was a middle stage in between. It couldn't even use Water Gun properly anymore, and other Pokemon made fun of it for that. It began isolating itself, and when Cinderace forced it to come out of its cave, it ran away in tears.

When Goh finds Drizzile, he tells it about his own childhood, when he was pointed out as being different for reasons even he didn't fully understand. When he asked himself "Why?" he only felt frustrated. This is what he tells Drizzile:

"I don't understand, but that's okay. And I don't need immediate answers, either. ... I'm fine if you just want to be who you are. ... If it helps you to nest, just do it. And if at some point you feel like being with a friend..."

"...I'll be there whenever you need me."

I didn't cry. I almost cried, but I didn't. And I didn't need a reason why anymore. Anyone else may have cried. I might have been a zombie or a husk for not crying.

...Maybe it was because I wasn't overwhelmed by what was going through my head anymore. It made me remember what I had been through, but the way these characters reached out to me was so much more meaningful than anything that came before.

The media that allowed me to laugh and to live and to make friends with ease once again provided light to me, not blinding me, but providing for me a moment of clarity.

I know not everyone likes the newer seasons of Pokemon. It doesn't fit the formula that provided light to those who have been fans for a longer time, and believe me, I understand how important these things are, but goddamnit, it's one thing to dislike a piece of media and an entirely different thing to continue arguing when you find out it means something to someone else. I respect those who don't like the newer seasons, and I won't tell you they're better than the ones that came before because, at least to me, they simply can't be compared to each other.

I know not everyone likes Goh, but I miss him so much for what he represented, and I can't thank the creators of Pokemon 2019 enough for what they went through to make what they did.

[booksandchainmail]

Hugo Award Nominees Thoughts

Best Novel:

The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty

The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera

Some Desperate Glory by Emily Tesh

Starter Villain by John Scalzi

Translation State by Ann Leckie

Witch King by Martha Wells

Largely makes sense to me: Saint and Glory were my nominees as well, and probably the strongest on my short list. Witch and Translation were on my longlist, both good and unsurprising nominees. Adventures I haven't read but have heard good things about, I wasn't a fan of the author's early work so I hadn't picked it up but it sounds fun. Villain I don't know about but I'm willing to try.

I'm not surprised that my other nominees didn't make it: Chain-Gang All-Stars I think was billed more as literary fiction than sci-fi, He Who Drowned the World I thought might be on the list but I imagine missed the cut, and Furious Heaven was never going to make it (second book in a series, less-known author, lengthy military sci-fi)

Best Novella:

“Life Does Not Allow Us to Meet”, He Xi / 人生不相见, 何夕, translated by Alex Woodend

Mammoths at the Gates by Nghi Vo

The Mimicking of Known Successes by Malka Older

Rose/House by Arkady Martine

“Seeds of Mercury”, Wang Jinkang / 水星播种, 王晋康, translated by Alex Woodend

Thornhedge by T. Kingfisher

Thornhedge, Mammoths, and Mimicking were all on my longlist. Rose/House has been on my "want to read" list for a while, but is bafflingly unavailable at the library. Seeds and Life I don't know, but am excited for.

None of my nominees made it in, which I'm sad about. Keeper's Six, The Twice-Drowned Saint, The Narrow Road Between Desires, and Lost in a Moment and Found were all excellent. I nominated less than my total number of slots in an effort to avoid just filling my ballot with everything good that was eligible in a category I don't read much in.

Best Novelette, Best Short Story: I have read none of these, though many of the authors are familiar

Best Series:

The Final Architecture by Adrian Tchaikovsky

Imperial Radch by Ann Leckie

The Last Binding by Freya Marske

The Laundry Files by Charles Stross

October Daye by Seanan McGuire

The Universe of Xuya by Aliette de Bodard

Last Binding was one of my nominees, glad to see it made it. I'd completely forgotten that Imperial Radch would be eligible again, happy that others remembered. October Daye is a perennial favorite, though not a nominee of mine this year. Xuya is a personal pet-peeve: every book of it sounds amazing, and they never work for me, and I keep reading them and being frustrated. Architecture I haven't read, but I've loved everything of Tchaikovsky's I've read. Laundry I'm dubious about, given how hard I bounced of his other series.

My other nominees were the Craft series, which I'd love to see get more attention, Unconquerable Sun, which is my personal darling blorbo books that I desperately want people read and love, and Kushiel's Legacy, which was newly re-eligible thanks to the publication of a companion novel, and never got the critical sff attention it deserved.

Best Graphic Story, Best Related Work: haven't read any of these, but it looks like interesting nominees

Best Dramatic Presentations: I don't really care about these

Best Game or Interactive Work:

Alan Wake 2

Baldur’s Gate 3

Chants of Sennaar

DREDGE

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom

Star Wars Jedi: Survivor

New category! I don't know enough about games of 2023 to speak on these nominees, but it looks good at a glance? and it's clearly better than the steam awards at least

Best Editors, Zines, Artists, Writers, and Casts: I don't follow these fields enough to have opinions

Lodestar (not a Hugo):

Abeni’s Song by P. Djèlí Clark

Liberty’s Daughter by Naomi Kritzer

Promises Stronger than Darkness by Charlie Jane Anders

The Sinister Booksellers of Bath by Garth Nix

To Shape a Dragon’s Breath by Moniquill Blackgoose

Unraveller by Frances Hardinge

Shape was one of my nominees, one of my favorite books of the year all over. Very glad to see it here. Since it was published and marketed aimed at adults, even though it's about teenagers at magic school, I imagine we'll see a repeat of the Scholomance eligibility discourse. Booksellers was... fine? But nothing particularly noteworthy to me. Abeni and Liberty I don't know, but like the authors. Unraveller I don't know, but have heard good things about the author. Promises I am going to preemptively not read given how much I disliked (and DNFed) the first two.

I'm sad to see my other two nominees, The Shape of Drowning and The Spirit Bares Its Teeth not on here. Drowning reminded me very sharply of Diana Wynne Jones, and Spirit was one of my best books of the year, with an excellent narrative voice. Maybe teen horror isn't doing that strongly now?

Astounding (not a Hugo):

Moniquill Blackgoose (1st year of eligibility)

Sunyi Dean (2nd year of eligibility)

Ai Jiang (2nd year of eligibility)

Hannah Kaner (1st year of eligibility)

Em X. Liu (1st year of eligibility)

Xiran Jay Zhao (eligibility extended at request of Dell Magazines)

So can we just go ahead and call this one for Xiran Jay Zhao already? Even leaving aside that they are a strong nominee, I can't imagine voters not using this as a protest against last year's scandal. Of those I've read, Blackgoose is my favorite, and was one of my nominees. Kaner and Liu both had good first novels/ellas and are solid nominees, though not my picks. Dean and Jiang I don't know.

My other nominees were Isabel J. Kim, Maya Deane, Vajra Chandrasekera, and C. E. McGill.

Overall:

This is a very reassuring ballot, after last year. Nothing here is deeply surprising, nothing is deeply surprising to be missing. The announcement also included an explanation of nominees that declined (Martha Wells continues to be classy in declining further nominations for Murderbot) or were ineligible, and why.

I have ~15 fiction books to read for voting, which is very manageable. In particular, already having read 4/6 of the series is a major help.

[noorpersona]

Tensions (Pt. 1)

The sun had been beating down rays of heat all day, but with it now being noon, the heat was at its strongest.

Being that it was the thick of summer, it was a dry day; with the wind that usually downplayed the rising temperature to be nowhere in sight. The rays hit Fushiguro hard, only amplified by the dark jumper he decided to wear that day. Why he had chosen to wear it now of all days is currently lost on him.

He feels beads of sweat roll down the side of his face. Fushiguro swipes his hair out of his field of view, doing his best to ignore the tiring weather conditions, and keep his eye on his opponent.

Him and Itadori had yet to move. They were in a stare down, waiting to see who would make the first attack. And in the three years they’ve been sparing, they both knew that Itadori would move first; Fushiguro was simply waiting.

The wisps that he swiped away had re-entered his view. Fushiguro quickly moves them away, eyes lasering on focus as Itadori decides to start the spar, making quicks strides to him. Itadori goes for a right hook, Fushiguro blocks it easily. Like clockwork he grabs Itadori’s arm and tries to flip him over. Itadori easily breaks free with an attempted kick to his shin, causing Fushiguro to jump back, putting space between them again. Fushiguro goes to a strike his jaw, for Itadori to dodge and attempt to hit him back.

It goes on for some time, with them going back and forth. To be completely honest, the black- hair sorcerer knew that in hand-to-hand combat, Itadori had the upper hand. However, in the time that had passed going from 15 to now 18 years of age, he could say with some confidence he could hold his ground against him.

After a failed punch, Fushiguro had Itadori in a vulnerable position. He could basically see the victory.

“You boys having fun?”

Her light, playful, teasing voice breaks through the cicadas, the heat and more importantly, Fushiguro’s focus. His head whips to see her causally leaning against one of the many trees, one of her legs bent, using the base as leverage. He drinks in her entire form. Arms crossed pushing up her breasts, extenuating the curves and contours of the rest of her body. His eyes trail to how her skirt had slid up the tiniest bit, legs bare since tights were now a hinderance instead of a benefit.

Then just like that, he’s on the dirt trying to breath in the air that suddenly had escaped him, all the while cursing his unconscious ogling.

He just couldn’t help himself. And that’s what frustrated him.

“Ha! I win!” Itadori’s voice is gleeful, before turning to the absolute bane of Fushiguro’s existence.

Kuramoto Sumiko.

He watches the two exchange greetings, causal conversation flowing as though Fushiguro wasn’t on the floor basically cooking in the sun. He sits up and grits his teeth, his annoyance in himself projecting onto her.

“Could you not interrupt us when we’re sparing? You made me lose focus.” He spits, glaring at her. He watches in agitation as Kuramoto’s smile grows condescending. It causes his blood to boil.

“So cold, Fushiguro-kun,” He knew she only used the honorific to piss him off. And God did it work.

“Just because you’re frustrated that you lost, yet again might I add, doesn’t mean you need to take it out on me.” He tsks, ignoring her words. Itadori ignores Kuramoto’s passive aggressive statement, offering a hand to help Fushiguro up. He begrudgingly takes it, before unwillingly moving his focus back to her.

In the end it always goes back to her. Whether he liked it or not. (Though it was usually not)

“What are you doing here anyways?” Kuramoto pouts, mocking a sad expression. Fushiguro stops himself from looking at her lips. He refocuses when he hears her dramatic huff.

“You make it seem as though you don’t want to be around me.” Kuramoto’s voice is overly babyish, turning her body to the side and looking away as if what he said actually hurt her. Fushiguro knows better than that though.

It’s because I don’t. The sorcerer thinks bitterly.

You drive me insane. With almost everything you do.

He cuts off his thoughts, almost shaking his head in real time as he watches with pure distaste when her mock sadness turns extremely dramatic with the flip of a switch. Kuramotos’ slightly manic behaviour wasn’t surprising to neither Fushiguro nor Itadori. She’d always been like this; in fact, he’d predicted her personality in the beginning moments of meeting her. Prideful, selfish, loud and a little bit crazy. All perfect traits for a life in sorcery.

Everything Fushiguro wasn’t.

He could say with full confidence that they two were total foils of each other. Like water and oil, the two just didn’t mix.

He thought about it more then he cared to admit.

She places her hand on her heart, making a pained expression. “Oh, how you wound me.” Kuramoto’s closed eyes peek open to view the two boys who were clearly not amused. Well, Itadori was a little; He had always found her antics a little funny.

The had two always got along better than her and Fushiguro for sure. He would be lying if he said he’s never gotten slightly jealous.

Fushiguro sighs tiredly, waiting for the real reason she had come and interrupted their spar. One look at his expression and she smiles.

“Tough crowd.” He only rolls his eyes. “Gojo sent me to get Yuuji. Something about a mission, I think.” Itadori makes a noise of recollection, then one of stress. Kuramoto and Fushiguro, well her more openly, watch in amusement as Itadori’s face shifts through the levels of stress.

“Ah, I completely forgot! ‘Kay, I gotta go! I’ll you see guys later!” He runs off instantly, not even waiting for goodbyes, and she laughs a little. There’s a beat of silence as they watch Itadori become smaller and smaller. It goes once, twice, until they both reach the same thought.

They were left alone with each other.

It doesn’t take long before Kuramoto gets that teasing look in her eye. The look he absolutely despised.

“And then there were two.” He raised his brow, ignoring the feeling of his blood pressure rising and incoming headache.

If he had any say about it, he wouldn’t be staying too long.

“I have to train, so I can’t stay. Excuse me.” Fushiguro starts to walk away when her laugh stops him.

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

The question makes him pause. Mostly because he already knew the answer.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He came off more aggressive and irritated then he wanted to, but to be fair, it was her.

He just couldn’t control himself.

Kuramoto hums, walking towards him, her steps light and bouncy as she circles around him. Fushiguro’s eyes never leave hers; Just like hers never leave his.

“Well, its just that you’d think after three years, you’d tolerate being around me more.” Fushiguro knew what she were referring to. Over the years he could count the times he’d been alone with her on one hand, and even then, it wasn’t very long.

He didn’t know what’d he’d do if he was given the chance.

Fushiguro doesn’t respond, trying to ignore the growing tension that came from his silence.

The tension that they both knew were there but refused to acknowledge.

Kuramoto laughs lowly, cutting the silence in half as she begin to walk away. His eyes trail her form. “Just some food for thought, Megumi-kun.” His name rolls off her tongue so smoothly, it sends shivers down his spine. He glares at her hard, keeping silent.

“Also, maybe a haircut would improve your chances at sparing. But don’t expect any miracles, okay?” She yells over her shoulder as she exits, and Fushiguro clenches his fists. He doesn’t respond; Then again, he never does.

Because he’s too busy willing his body to not chase after her.

~~~

“She drives me insane.” Fushiguro rants, pacing back and forth the floors of Itadori’s dorm, while the aforementioned watches in concealed amusement.

“C’mon man, she’s not that bad,” Itadori reasons. Fushiguro stops to look at him. “Of course, you would say that; She doesn’t put all her energy into tormenting you.” The pink-haired sorcerer sighs a little.

“Or maybe, you just give her too much to play off of.” Itadori mumbles, and Fushiguro stops.

“What?”

“I’m just saying, you do act a little strongly with her. Downplay it, and she might lay off.” Fushiguro scoffs. As if he hasn’t thought of that before.

He didn’t have the nerve to say he had no control of his emotions around her.

“What part of ‘she drives me insane’ do you not understand?” He watches Itadori sigh again, rubbing the back of his neck as he sets his drink down on the floor.

“Look dude I get it; Having that kind of tension with someone would drive anyone nuts-” Fushiguro almost chokes, effectively cutting off his best friend. That struck a nerve.

“I’m sorry, ‘that kind of tension’? What’s that supposed to mean?” Fushiguro asks, immediately on the offensive. Itadori looks at his best friend blankly. “Uh… The sexual tension you guys have? It’s so thick you could cut it with a knife.” The simple manner in which he says it, causes Fushiguro to spiral even more.

“What?! That’s not even close to what’s going on! She drives me insane because she’s rash, selfish, crazy, annoyingly-”

“Fuckable?” The boys both turn to the source of the crass comment. Kugisaki leaning against the doorframe, her face completely serious. Fushiguro grits his teeth, his ears burning in embarrassment and anger knowing that there was no escape from the subject now.

“Couldn’t help but overhear. Honestly, Fushiguro, you want to screw her so bad it makes you look stupid.” He watches his other best friend, debatable at the moment however, walk into the room and open the mini fridge to get herself a drink. Fushiguro tsks at the comment, looking away from his friends prying eyes.

“Again, the concept of me and her is ridiculous. Never once have I ever thought of her that way.” He hears Kugisaki snort loudly.

“Please. There’s a thin line between love and hate, and you’ve been ready fuck over it since the day you met. You guys should just get it over with. Three years is long enough.” He watches his two friends, clearly amused with his suffering, infuriated. He can’t stop the irritated sound that comes from his throat. Itadori, perhaps feeling pity, gives Fushiguro a sympathetic smile.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Get your mind off things?” Itadori suggests. Fushiguro sighs, but doesn’t disagree. He had been working hard enough as it is, and a day off didn’t sound too bad…

“And there’s my entrance.” The three third years freeze to sound of Kuramoto’s voice. Fushiguro’s heart suddenly began to pound so hard he could feel it in his ears. If she had heard anything, he would never hear the end of it. And if that happened, he truly believed he would snap.

“Kuramoto! Were you outside long?” Itadori asks, standing up to greet you, clearly trying to gage how much you heard the previous conversation. The three anxiously awaited your answer.

“Just got here. I overheard that Megumi-kun,” She makes a point of using his first name in an overly smug but light voice to irritate him. Fushiguro glares but doesn’t say anything.

“Was thinking of a day off?” Itadori and Kugisaki go silent as they watch Fushiguro’s face form a deeper frown then once thought imaginable.

“I fail to see how that involves you in any way.” He says sharply. She only gives a light shrug, smile still plastered on her face. “It’s just that it really messes up my schedule.” Fushiguro’s eyebrows burrow deeper in confusion.

“What?”

“With the mission Gojo-sensei gave us. We leave tonight.” The information bounces around Fushiguro’s head and he still doesn’t process it completely.

“Huh? Gojo never said anything about a mission, though.” Kugisaki finally speaks, and Itadori agrees with a couple nods of his head. Kuramotos’ smile widens.

“It was assigned to just me and Megumi-kun. Something about our styles aligning.” She hums in thought, and all words dry up in Fushiguro’s mouth.

A solo mission… with her…

“Anyways! Make sure to pack the essentials Megumi-kun! It’s supposed to be a few days at the least!” Kuramoto laughs before saying a childish* ‘bye-bye’ *and leaving. It took several minutes and hand waving to get Fushiguro up to speed.

This. This was his own worst nightmare.

~~~

“Do you want to explain yourself?” Fushiguro barges into his office, catching Gojo mid tea sip. He could see his teacher’s smile widening, as he continues drinking his tea, purposefully not sensing Fushiguro’s tone of urgency and anger.

“About what, Megumi? I do a lot of things that need explaining. Depending on what it is, I might give you an answer.” Gojo sets his tea down gently, looking at his student with a grin so wide it was extremely difficult for Fushiguro to not punch him.

Still, he remained calm. Well, enough at least.

“The mission you apparently assigned me and Kuramoto. Why the two of us? You have lots of different sorcerers at your disposal.” Gojo made a sound of surprise.

“Am I hearing tones of resentment? I never thought I’d see the day where the team player doesn’t want to cooperate with someone. Scary.” Fushiguro grits his teeth.

“I- We just don’t work well together.”

“You guys do well enough in group settings. What’s the difference?” The answer dies in Fushiguro’s throat.

The difference is less time actually spent alone. He couldn’t imagine the possibilities of what could happen if there were alone for long periods of time. It was practically unheard of.

And Fushiguro wasn’t keen on experimenting.

“Plus, your techniques compliment each other. You guys theoretically would make a great team, so I put you together. Now you can drop out if you’d like, but I’ve already told the higher ups and the principal you guys were going. That’s not gonna look good for you.” Fushiguro rubs the bridge of his nose.

Why did you tell them I’d go without asking me first? Is the only question on his mind before holding his head up, swallowing his pent-up frustrations with an easy breath. Just like so many times before in his life.

“Where are we going?”

“A small town on the outskirts of Tokyo bordering Kanagawa.” He nods, before taking his leave and going to his dorm to pack his stuff. He fails to see Gojo’s mischievous grin as he takes another sip of his tea.

[the-bug-carnival]

irls skip please :]

i hate seasonal depression so much. it’s so incredibly life ruining, and it makes having fun so hard. like yeah, sorry, im gonna not be able to do things for the next three months because it’s raining and dark out. sorry yeah i couldn’t clean my room because the sun set before 6pm.

and i feel so bad because all my friends are totally fine and i haven’t told them anything so they still expect me to be able to stuff when i can’t. and i always have a shit ton of trouble in school in the winter because i feel unmotivated exhausted and hopeless beyond measure.

and it feels so dramatic too!!! like oh my god you’re not actually going to be sad forever!!! you need to absorb some sunlight!!!! why does it feel my mental health depends entirely on how much sun i get?????

anyways it’s been raining for like three months straight here and i’m so unbelievably frustrated about it. PLEASE i wanna be able to DO STUFF

[learnyouabiology]

Fun Fact: Hognose snakes are dramatic lil guys!

I am particularly fond of the snakes known as hognose snakes, and my reasons are both understandable and correct.

This is a hognose snake:

(They received their name by having the sweetest lil snoot to ever require a boop – image source)

They use these adorable snoots to burrow under sandy soil using a sort of nuzzle-y motion. They then use these burrows as a place to sleep at night, hibernate in the winter, and lay their eggs. 

(you could say they’re into... the Underground Scene! ...ok yeah i’ll show myself out – image source)

Plus, they come in a variety of delightful colours!

We've got brown! Beige! Yellow! Black! Red! Orange! Tan! Kinda greenish! Orange again!

(pretty sneks! – Here’s all the image sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9)

And, to be clear, the snakes pictured above are wild snakes. No selective breeding by humans in these noodly bois! At least, not in these specific individuals. probably. I guess a few of them could be escapees... 

But most importantly: These snakes know the true meaning of DRAMA

Hognose snakes are actors, first and foremost. When they feel threatened, the first thing they do is puff out their neck into a hood. 

(like cobras, this hood is made by FLEXING THEIR NECK RIBS. which: gross – image source x)

This superficially makes them look like a cobra, but what they’re actually trying to do is make themselves seem bigger, and therefore scarier. Possibly those dark spots on their neck helps with that! 

Any resemblance to real-life Eurasian cobras, real or fictional, is purely coincidental

Also, it makes its mouth do this:

(Snakes that SCREAAAAAAAM. – image source)

honestly, if I didn’t already know that hognose snakes were harmless, this would ABSOLUTELY make me leave it the hell alone 

But if all of that^ is unsuccessful at scaring away the predator, the hognose snake pulls its signature move: playing dead

If you think that is a lame signature move, then you are wrong, because hognose snakes put EVERYTHING into their performance and I love them for it.

(they’re serious, they’ll do it!  – image source)

((I’m actually going to stick the rest of this under a read-more, bc the pictures of the alive-and-physically-fine hognose snakes do kind of look like a legitimately-dead hognose snake, if you don’t know what to look for. 

So, uh: cw for a snake being too good at pretending to be dead))

Behold: a series of completely healthy, unharmed snakes!!!

(to help with their self-esteem, we ask that you at least pretend to believe that they are dead – image sources 1, 2, 3, 4)

Honestly, the photos don’t do it justice. Here’s my favourite video of the whole wonderous performance: 

But to review:

There's writhing! There's dramatic noises! There's flipping onto their back and opening their mouth wide and letting their tongue hang out! There's excreting a combination of  intentionally smelly substances!!! Truly a master of the art of being left the hell alone (*^▽^*)

(yep. deeeeefinitely dead. not just faking it. nothing worth eating here! – image source)

Personally, my favourite part of this is how they insist on rolling onto their back, even when they are rolled back onto their stomach. 

Seriously, if you try to roll them right-side-up, they will flip back over. It's as though they believe that a good, proper dead snek MUST be on its back, obviously.

(truly fearsome – image source)

Sadly, the hognose snake may have made itself too scary, according to humans.

Out of fear, these snakes are commonly killed on sight 😔. I once heard someone proudly brag about how they’d killed a dozen cobras! In southern Ontario! Where cobras do not live! This is both extremely frustrating and deeply sad.

(safe enough to hold! although maybe don’t, just because this snake IS probably experiencing mortal fear, which is not a good feeling – image source © Dean Stavrides)

So just to highlight: hognose snakes are completely harmless. They’re just pretending to be fearsome!

(not that people should be killing venomous snakes either, imo. Let the danger noodles LIVE THEIR LIVES)

(i is baybee, pls do not hurt me – image source)

And now some bonus facts to help raise us out of that downer:

Hognose snakes are toad specialists! Their favourite food is toads, which is unusual, because toads are poisonous. Hognose snakes deal with this by force of will and also, at least two amino acid substitutions, maybe (Mohammadi et al. 2016). Possibly a few other things help with this, also (Feldman et al. 2016).

(is snek eat toad? or does toad wearing cape of snek? impossible to tell, really – image source)

Also, I have a confession: hognose snakes... are venomous. Technically.

(itty bitty little fangs at the veeeeery back of their mouth!  – image source)

They are known as rear-fanged snakes, which means they have fangs aaaall the way at the back of their mouth. The venom they produce seems to be toad-specific, and is considered to be harmless to humans unless you happen to have an allergy but that's the exception rather than the rule

(the two hognose species. They are both baybee, but in different ways actually there might be more than two species but these are the two i’ve actually learned about so ALL WELL   – image source)

Also, hognose snakes are big cowards NOT aggressive and I've never even heard of anyone getting bit by a one (outside of one feeding mishap, which we can all agree was an ACCIDENT). 

The series of events that would need to occur for you to be envenomated are so unlikely and bizarre that I assume you would have to be TRYING to get bit.

This has been Fun Fact Friday, bringing you the forbidden noodly boys to try and keep them a little more safe!

.....................................................................

Sources, because I know me and SO DO YOU:

Averill-Murray, R. C. (2006). Natural history of the western hog-nosed snake (Heterodon nasicus) with notes on envenomation. Sonoran Herpetologist, 19(9), 98-101.

Buchanan, Scott W.; Timm, Brad C.; Cook, Robert P.; Couse, Richard; Hazard, Lisa C. (2017). Spatial ecology and habitat selection of eastern hognose snakes. The Journal of Wildlife Management, 81(3), 509–520. doi:10.1002/jwmg.21218 

CHS: Canadian Herpetological Society https://canadianherpetology.ca/species/species_page.html?cname=Eastern%20Hog-nosed%20Snake

COSEWIC. 2021. COSEWIC assessment and status report on the Eastern Hog-nosed Snake Heterodon platirhinos in Canada. Committee on the Status of Endangered Wildlife in Canada. Ottawa. xi + 45 pp.  https://www.canada.ca/en/environment-climate-change/services/species-risk-public-registry/cosewic-assessments-status-reports/eastern-hog-nosed-snake-2021.html

Cunnington, G. M., & Cebek, J. E. (2005). Mating and nesting behavior of the eastern hognose snake (Heterodon platirhinos) in the northern portion of its range. The American midland naturalist, 154(2), 474-478.

Feldman, C. R., Durso, A. M., Hanifin, C. T., Pfrender, M. E., Ducey, P. K., Stokes, A. N., ... & Brodie Jr, E. D. (2016). Is there more than one way to skin a newt? Convergent toxin resistance in snakes is not due to a common genetic mechanism. Heredity, 116(1), 84-91. 

 Jared, C., Luiz Mailho‐Fontana, P., & Maria Antoniazzi, M. (2021). Differences between poison and venom: An attempt at an integrative biological approach. Acta Zoologica, 102(4), 337-350.

Liu, C., Chen, Y., Zheng, Y., Bo, J., Yang, C., Xu, S., & Zhang, S. (2022). Wear Resistance Improvement of Keeled Structure and Overlapped Distribution of Snake Scales. Journal of Bionic Engineering, 1-11. Citing abstract.

Mohammadi, S., Gompert, Z., Gonzalez, J., Takeuchi, H., Mori, A., & Savitzky, A. H. (2016). Toxin-resistant isoforms of Na+/K+-ATPase in snakes do not closely track dietary specialization on toads. Proceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, 283(1842), 20162111. 

 Nature Conservancy of Canada: https://www.natureconservancy.ca/en/what-we-do/resource-centre/featured-species/reptiles-and-amphibians/eastern-hog-nosed-snake.html

Plummer, M. V., & Mills, N. E. (1996). Observations on trailing and mating behaviors in hognose snakes (Heterodon platirhinos). Journal of Herpetology, 30(1), 80-82.

Rouse, Jeremy D.; Willson, Robert J.; Black, Ron; Brooks, Ronald J.  (2011). Movement and Spatial Dispersion of Sistrurus catenatus and Heterodon platirhinos: Implications for Interactions with Roads. Copeia, 2011(3), 443–456. doi:10.1643/ce-09-036     

Seburn, D. 2008. Recovery Strategy for the Eastern Hog-nosed Snake (Heterodon platirhinos) in Canada. Species at Risk Act Recovery Strategy Series. Parks Canada Agency, Ottawa. vi + 24pp.

Schwartz, V. & D. Golden (2002). Field Guide to Reptiles and Amphibians of New Jersey. New Jersey Division of Fish and Wildlife

VHS: Virginia herpetological society http://www.virginiaherpetologicalsociety.com/reptiles/snakes/eastern-hog-nosed-snake/eastern_hognose_snake.php#:~:text=Heterodon%20is%20derived%20from%20the%20Greek%20words%20heteros,meaning%20%22broad%20or%20flat%22%20and%20rhinos%20meaning%20%22snout%22

Young, R. A. (1992). Effects of Duvernoy's gland secretions from the eastern hognose snake, Heterodon platirhinos, on smooth muscle and neuromuscular junction. Toxicon, 30(7), 775-779. https://doi.org/10.1016/0041-0101(92)90013-U

Young, B. A., & Morain, M. (2003). Vertical burrowing in the Saharan sand vipers (Cerastes). Copeia, 2003(1), 131-137.

SARA: threatened https://www.canada.ca/en/environment-climate-change/services/species-risk-public-registry.html

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin Introduces his Jedi Babies (and Himself)

Context:  Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Warnings for: canon-typical dismemberment, unfortunately-aimed puppy crushes

Word count: 5,839

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

The first time a Jedi meets a Skywalker, it’s on Bandomeer.

The planet is close to Mandalorian space. Finding someone associated with Mandalore is, technically, not that surprising. There are even Mandalorian operations on the planet.

What is surprising is the fact that the person from Mandalorian space is an unfamiliar Jedi Knight who is utterly unstoppable.

(Obi-Wan Kenobi has no way of knowing how similar his experiences are to what might have been, on this planet. Mandalore has been interfering in operations here ever since Ylliben Skywalker started reporting visions about the coming catastrophe. Where that interference has helped or hurt... well. There’s no way to know.)

(Is there?)

When Xanatos shows up and starts taunting Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, there’s a giggle from the doorway.

All three have to turn to look at the individual in question.

Mid-twenties, leaning against the doorframe, slim but strong, covered in dark fabric and half a set of armor. A scar by one eye, well-kept hair, and a smirk that could burn the longest fuse. A lightsaber, unlit, in one gloved hand.

This man is... very attractive, Obi-Wan thinks. This is not an appropriate thought for the situation. Obi-Wan thinks he can maybe blame it on the exhaustion.

“No, no, keep going,” the stranger says, sounding like there’s a laugh stuck in his throat. He waves dismissively. “Let’s, ah, let’s hear the master plan. Good ranting voice, maybe a six out of ten on the ‘I’m better than you’ and a four on the actual intimidation. You can do better.”

“Excuse me?” Xanatos hisses, sounding incredibly malicious to Obi-Wan’s ears. “Just who do you think you are?”

“And now you’re overselling it,” the stranger sighs. “Are you new at this? You seem new at this.”

“I would... also like to know who you are,” Master Jinn admits, shifting uncertainly as he tries to keep both du Crion and the stranger in his sights.

“I’m just your friendly neighborhood Jedi Knight, here to fight darksiders because... that’s my life, apparently,” the man says, looking down at his arm for some reason. He shakes his head and looks up at them with a bright grin. “Do you need some help, Master Jinn?”

“You still haven’t told us your name.”

“This is true,” the knight says. “That said, I’ve been told by my boss to explicitly avoid naming myself while on this mission for a variety of reasons.”

“Your... boss,” du Crion drawls. “Not the Council, then.”

“Current supervisor,” the stranger offers as correction, completely unconcerned. “It’s a complicated situation, don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t worry about nonentities.”

The man purses his lips like he’s trying very, very hard not to laugh again. It’s very mocking. “Sure, kid.”

Xanatos has had his lightsaber out ever since Obi-Wan and Master Jinn entered the room, but he does one of those fancy, meant-to-be-intimidating one-handed saber twirls as he turns to face the Knight.

The man’s smirk widens. “You do realize you’re going to lose, right? C’mon, kid--”

“I’m older than you!”

“I did like zero research on you as a person, just your many and varied crimes; how old are you?”

Du Crion’s face goes pinched. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Ah, yeah, no, I’m older,” the knight says. “Only a few years, but I’m also a delightfully obnoxious little bastard who ages real slow for, uh, reasons--”

Obi-Wan is fascinated. This man is very strange. And very pretty.

Obi-Wan may be light-headed. Is he bleeding? Blood loss would explain this.

Obi-Wan isn’t bleeding. Damn.

“--anyway, I’m sure I’ve got a more interesting life with more mature experiences than you,” the knight says. “So even if I wasn’t older in body, I’d be older in spirit.”

The knight’s entire sense of being carries such an air of banthashit that Obi-Wan can barely believe it. It’s almost impressive. Obi-Wan wonders how often this man just opens his mouth and immediately gets punched in the face.

“You talk a lot for a man in someone else’s domain.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” the knight says. “At least I’m not flirting with you. That’s what my master did with almost every darksider we met except his grandmaster.”

Du Crion pauses.

Obi-Wan has the distinct feeling that he and Master Jinn have lost any control they might have, at any point, had over this situation. They hadn’t had much control in the first place, but anything they did have is squarely in the stranger’s court right now. The silver lining to that is that du Crion is thoroughly distracted and has also lost some control of the situation.

“Besides,” the man continues, completely ignoring the very red lightsaber that is being very obviously readied for his death. “This is not that big of an advantage for you. I mean, hey, the fancy central console that can only be reached by skinny walkways with no railings are a nice touch, all chromed metal and minimal lighting, very dramatic, but there’s no lava. I’m not, like, chained to a rock in the middle of an arena for a public execution at the hands of starving animals the size of a fighter ship. You’re threatening to kill me personally instead of standing in the most expensive box of the theater, sipping your wine and congratulating yourself on step one of a plan that has another fifty-thousand steps and no end in sight. You--”

“Is there a point to this?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been in worse situations by better darksiders than you. This is sad. You’re sad. Try harder.”

Obi-Wan makes a little noise in the back of his throat. Nobody seems to notice, but Master Jinn does put a hand on his shoulder. That’s nice.

“I don’t have any interest in setting up a public execution.”

“What kind of a Sith wannabe are you?” the knight asks, tilting his head. Obi-Wan distantly notes that his hair is longer than initially assumed; it’s just held back and curled. “Public executions are a whole thing. It’s like you’re not even trying. Tell me you’ve at least got vague plans to hand me off to a pirates instead of killing me so you can make some comment about me not even being worth the effort.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” du Crion asks, his voice the kind of forced casual level nonsense that shows he’s actually very, very frustrated. Obi-Wan could almost believe that du Crion is as uninterested as he’s pretending to be.

“If I was trying to get myself killed, I’d... pick a fight with the Trade Federation, maybe? I mean, I survived that when I was nine but they’d probably take me more seriously this time.” The knight taps at his chin. “I don’t even know where the actual Sith is, but--”

“There are no more Sith,” du Crion scoffs.

Oh, the knight looks pitying now. Obi-Wan likes that much more than he should. It just really suits the man’s face.

Quin’s going to make so much fun of him later.

“I have fought multiple Sith,” the man says, slowly and clearly, as though explaining something to a child. “My master fought more than that. I lost my arm to a Sith when I was nineteen. You can say they’re gone, but I don’t trust like that.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” du Crion says, rolling his eyes. “It has been a thousand years since the Sith were wiped out. Much as I’d like them to still be around, I’m not going to--”

“Oh!” the knight exclaims. “You’re lying! You do think they’re back, this whole mess is you auditioning.”

Du Crion stares at the man as though he’s lost what few marbles he had. “Excuse me?”

“You want to be the next Sith Apprentice,” the man says, cheerfully unconcerned by the mounting tension in the air. “That’s adorable. Well, no, actually, it’s very bad, both for you and for everyone else, and now it means I can’t just kill you in battle like I was planning because the Jedi are going to need you for information. Blast.”

Du Crion’s eyes widen. It is not in fear, but in incredulity. Obi-Wan thinks that it’s all in the eyebrows and the tight, befuddled smile. “You were planning to kill me, Jedi?”

“I mean... yeah, kinda,” the knight says, shrugging. “Quick and clean option, that.”

This time, Master Jinn is the one that makes a disbelieving noise that both of the bitchy twenty-somethings ignore.

“You’re a Jedi,” du Crion points out, entirely pleasant.

“...yes,” the man says, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Technically.”

Du Crion is very much distracted by this. “Technically?”

The man wiggles a hand. “Arguments can be made. I certainly was trained as a Jedi and consider myself to be one. My knighting was according to protocol, and at the Temple. Technically.”

“...but?” Master Jinn prompts.

The knight smiles like he’s got something very spicy in his mouth and is unwilling to admit it’s too much for him. “But nothing! Don’t worry about it. There’s a fight to be had with a Sith wannabe who doesn’t realize he’s not going to measure up.”

“Arrogant,” du Crion accuses.

“No,” the knight immediately says. “You just don’t fight a galactic war without learning which opponents are actually going to kill you.”

Obi-Wan leans into Master Jinn’s side, his legs feeling a little too much like jelly. He whispers, “I have so many questions.”

“As do I, Padawan,” Master Jinn mutters back, and something in Obi-Wan’s heart twists. He’s a padawan! Master Jinn’s actually going to go through with it!

The fight does actually happen, at that point. The knight lights his saber and leaps forward, flashing through Djem So movements without a moment’s hesitation. For all the trash talk and boasting, the fight isn’t actually over very quickly. Du Crion is good, even without having had a chance to spar against a real person since he left the Order. Power flows around him, dark and heavy and sharp in ways that the Force usually isn’t, and the red saber snaps through the air with a speed Obi-Wan can barely track. Xanatos du Crion is, without question, danger incarnate in this moment.

The unknown knight is better.

There are attempts at banter, mostly by the stranger. Du Crion is too focused on the fight to bother responding. Obi-Wan just clings to Master Jinn, trying to stay awake and aware. It’s difficult, given the past few days, and even with help from the Force, he’s flagging.

The way the knight moves is... captivating, though.

(Quinlan’s going to laugh at the top of his lungs, later. Obi-Wan’s going to blush and stutter and bury his face in a pillow, and Bant’s going to pat his back like the amazing friend she is, and Quin’s just going to laugh, like an asshole.)

The fight doesn’t end cleanly. The knight cuts du Crion’s saber in half and, in the same movement, cuts the man’s hand off.

Obi-Wan’s seen too much blood in the last few days for it to shock him, but the smell is... unpleasant.

“I don’t suppose either of you carries Force-nullifying cuffs?” the knight asks, holding his saber to du Crion’s neck with an expression that is amused and satisfied in equal measure.

“No,” Master Jinn says. He seems... very bothered. Well, du Crion was his student once. Obi-Wan can’t imagine he’d be very calm if he had a student that went dark and started killing children. “Was cutting off his hand really necessary?”

“I feel like half my fights end with either someone dying or someone losing a limb,” the knight muses. “Sometimes that limb is my own, even!”

Obi-Wan isn’t sure if the man is manic or just trying to throw them off their rhythm. It probably doesn’t matter.

“Okay, I have Force-nullifying cuffs of my own,” the man says. “But these things are expensive as hell, and they weren’t paid for by the Order, so just giving them to you isn’t really on the table. That said... my ship kind of got shot down on the way here. If you could give me a ride off-planet--”

“Our ship was also shot down.”

The knight blinks at him, and then kicks du Crion in the hamstring. It’s not a very hard kick, but du Crion shoots him a look of offense that’s probably justified. Getting kicked when one is already down is never a great feeling.

“Stop shooting people,” the knight scolds.

Obi-Wan feels vaguely like he’s having a fever dream.

“Okay, new plan,” the man says. “What kind of ship did you come in?”

“KYL-3400 small transport,” Master Jinn says, with not a little hesitation. “Why?”

The knight grins. “I’m going to cannibalize it for parts.”

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

Jango has known Anakin Skywalker for six years. Many of those years have been spent being yanked into babysitting for the man. For reasons Jango doesn’t feel like examining, this will likely continue.

“You’re late,” he says, as the man in question stumbles out of a battered ship that looks only barely like the one that left three months ago. “I thought you said Bandomeer was a quick fix.”

“Ship got shot down, had to help some Jedi, ran into fucking Onaka on the way back,” Skywalker grouses. “I feel like shit. Where are my kids?”

“Buir says you have to go to medical.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. My kids, Jango.”

“They can visit you in medical.”

“And, what, Mereel’s gonna go there for a debrief?”

“Your debrief is going through me,” Jango says, and doesn’t let himself flinch when Skywalker makes a face. “He’ll check in later.”

“Yeah, no,” Skywalker says, taking a step forward and then swaying with a curse. “Listen, this actually does need to go to Mand’alor direct, not just the Alor-in-training--”

“Please don’t do that with my language,” Jango immediately says. “That’s not--no. ‘Alor-in-training’ isn’t a thing. Don’t do that.”

Skywalker turns on his heel with a frustrated snarl, and Jango’s eyes widen as the stupid tunics the man wears flare out.

“Is that a blaster wound?”

“No.”

“Yes it--for fuck’s sake, Skywalker!” Jango growls and just goes over to grab the taller man by the shoulders and march him to medical. “I’m calling your sister.”

“Don’t tell Shmi, she’s got enough to--”

“I’m calling your sister,” Jango snaps. “And you’re going to deal with it. Ka’ra, do you even think? Is there a brain in that head of yours?”

“I’ve been told my braincell is lonely.”

“I’m going to shove you in a trash compactor, dikut’la jetii,” Jango mutters. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“If I say yes, will you let me go deal with it on my own?”

Jango strangles his own scream and shoves Skywalker into the nearest examination room. “Fix him!”

The medic looks up, raises a brow, and turns to Skywalker. “What did you do?”

“What didn’t I do?” Skywalker shoots back, grinning like they’re sharing battle stories over a drink in a cantina.

The medic--Mirka’lu, he thinks--crosses her arms. “General.”

Oh man, the medics must be angry with him already if they’re already jumping titles like that.

“I’m just a knight--”

“General Skywalker.”

The man in question grimaces. “I maybe got shot during an altercation with some pirates.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And... I maybe--maybe--picked a fight with some Hutt enforcers.”

Jango’s going to wring his neck.

Right after he calls Shmi.

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

Komari does her level best to not shift nervously under the judgmental eyes of the man they’re pretty sure is the Mand’alor. Her master’s got the situation under control. She’s just there to observe. They’ve got an entire team--

“Is that your way of telling me that your Order did minimal research on the situation before coming to intervene, and the only reason you bothered to reach out is because one of my men, weeks ago, let you know that Death Watch is setting traps for both my people and yours?”

Komari feels the flare of annoyance from Master Dooku. She doesn’t react, but she can hear the tension when her Master speaks.

“I assure we would not have attacked on Galidraan unless attacked first, or if we’d found solid evidence of the actions we were informed of,” Master Dooku says, quiet and even. “All your messenger did was save us all a little time.”

Mereel smiles thinly. “Saved us all some lives, more like it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Ah, jetiise aren’t the only ones with Force-Sensitives,” the Mand’alor says. “I’ve more than a few under my command. Visions aren’t foolproof, I’m aware, but I’ll be damned if such a warning goes completely ignored.”

Master Dooku makes a low humming noise. “Be that as it may, I’m unsure of what it is that you’re expecting out of our... presence. We are not here to help you claim your presumed throne. We are only here to stop the killings we were told about.”

“I don’t need your help to reunite my people.” Mereel waves a hand, batting the mere suggestion away. “But I’d appreciate the help with taking out the terrorist group that’s actually going out and murdering the helpless, this planet’s farmers and doctors and children. Kyr’tsad isn’t just a thorn in my side, Master Jedi.”

“And what proof do I have that you aren’t just the same kind of monster as you claim they are?” Master Dooku challenges.

It’s a little brazen, considering how dicey these negotiations are. For all that Komari herself doesn’t wince, someone behind her outright hisses in dismay. She agrees with the sentiment.

Mereel just laughs at them. He catches the eye of one of the armored individuals along the wall, human or close to it, and nods to himself.

“Right,” the man says. “Well, we have our own Jedi. Would you like to meet him?”

Master Dooku is immobile, as if carved from stone. The rest of the group is... not.

“I suppose that would be acceptable,” Master Dooku says, and Komari feels the tension in him wind further through the training bond. There are a million questions to be had here. None of them can be answered without the supposed Jedi.

“Great,” the Mand’alor says. He leans back in his seat and turns to the door. With the press of a button, the door slides open. “Ben!”

A child darts into the room, stops, and bounces on their feet. Probably male, Komari thinks, and very anxious. The child’s eyes dart about the room, taking in every single Jedi in sight. When that gaze lands on Master Dooku, there’s a flash of recognition and... not hate, but distaste. Confused and distant dismay, maybe. The child turns back to Mereel.

“Mand’alor,” the child greets, still bouncing. “Am I needed?”

“Thought I told you this meeting was for grown-ups,” the Mand’alor says.

Ben shrugs. “I wanted to listen in.”

“That door is soundproofed and you know it.”

“So?”

The Mand’alor grins. “Do me a favor and go fetch your dad.”

“Buir’s still sleeping,” Ben says, grave as dirt. It’s a strange expression for such a small child. He can’t be older than eight, and Komari’s pretty sure even that’s a stretch. “Shmi’s gonna be mad if he has to wake up before the bacta’s done.”

“I just need him for negotiations,” Mereel assures the child.

“Aggressive negotiations with a lightsaber?” Ben asks, and Komari nearly chokes.

“No, just regular ones.”

Ben nods sharply, and then turns and runs out.

“That boy...” Mereel mutters, but it’s fond. “Anywa--”

“BUIR!” Ben’s voice echoes from the hall, faint but audible, along with some very loud banging on what is presumably a door. “DAD! WAKE UP, THE COUNT IS HERE!”

The Count? Komari wonders. Even Master Dooku seems surprised.

The question is clearly on more minds than just her own. Mereel raises a brow at Master Dooku and gestures vaguely. “Didn’t know any of you were nobility. You a Count, Master Jedi?”

“No,” Master Dooku says, and before the Mand’alor can press further, he adds, “but if I were to retire from the Order, the title would be mine to inherit. As I have no intentions of retiring, I am not and will not be a Count, but I assume that is what the child is referring to.”

“Ben,” the Mand’alor corrects. He seems pleased with the reasonable answer. “Ylliben Skywalker. I suggest you refer to him by name.”

“You have a fondness for him,” Master Dooku notes.

Mereel shrugs. “No more than any other child, objectively, but his father is one of my more effective allies, and he gets antsy about things. Saying ‘your child’ won’t be a problem, but ‘the child’ is... well.”

The smirk is a challenge that Komari doesn’t feel ready to meet. She’s glad it’s not hers to handle.

“Why do you ‘have’ a Jedi?” Master Dooku asks, pushing the conversation back to the point Komari’s sure he was initially aiming for.

“Found him in a snowstorm, brought him inside,” Mereel says, grinning. “And then he refused to leave, the shabuir. Troublesome man, like you wouldn’t believe, but useful.”

“Like a feral tooka,” someone behind Komari mutters. She feels a part of her soul die.

You can’t just say that in front of the Mand’alor! she screeches in the depths of her mind, despairing.

“Exactly,” Mereel agrees with a laugh. “Skywalker’s a feral tooka.”

Komari dies a little more.

“Talkin’ shit about me, Mereel?”

...oh no.

This one’s pretty.

The man is tall, dressed almost entirely in black, and looks like shit.

“You look like you got run over by a herd of bantha,” the Mand’alor notes.

“I got back less than a day ago,” Skywalker growls out. He leans against the wall behind the Mand’alor’s desk. He folds his arms. He glowers around the room. “The kriff is Count Dooku doing here?”

“Master Dooku,” the man in question says, a little pained. “As I informed Mand’alor Mereel, I may technically have claim to that title, but I am a Jedi. So long as I remain a Jedi, the title isn’t actually mine.”

Skywalker makes a face, and then shakes his head. “Fine. Whatever. Jaster, what the hell do you need from me?”

“Well, some manners would be nice.”

“I got shot and am putting myself in a position to get yelled at by baar’ur Mirka’lu for coming here when I’m supposed to be on bed rest,” Skywalker growls out. He kicks Mereel’s chair, glaring at the back of the man’s head. “You’re lucky I put on pants.”

Mereel seems unbothered by this statement or treatment.

Komari thinks her eyes may currently be the size of dinner plates.

“You’re the one from Bandomeer.”

Skywalker’s head snaps up to focus his gaze on Master Dooku. “Say what?”

“You’re the one my former Padawan encountered on Bandomeer,” Master Dooku says, something satisfied in his tone. “He said you refused to give a name, but the physical description does match.”

“Oh, lovely, Jinn’s been gossiping,” Skywalker mutters. “That’s just--”

“General Skywalker,” Mereel says, voice finally slipping to something more stern than amused. “If you could please focus.”

Skywalker rolls his eyes and mutters something about painkillers.

“Buir?”

Skywalker’s head tilts to the side, and he holds one arm out to the side. The kid from before--Ben--darts in to cling to the man’s side. A slightly taller Togruta follows in and ducks in under his other arm. Both children keep a wary gaze fixed on the same person, and their adult...

Every look from this man is a new challenge to Master Dooku.

“They’re yours?”

That is the exact question Komari was hoping her master wouldn’t ask.

“We’re in Mandalorian territory,” Skywalker says. “They’re Force-Sensitive orphans with an incredible amount of potential. If I didn’t claim them, someone else would have.”

It’s not an airtight justification--the man could have just sent them to the Temple--but the air around him is roiling with aggression. This man does not like Master Dooku, and is more than a shade protective of these--his--children. Komari shifts her weight and worries as the pregnant silence grows heavier.

“As you say,” Master Dooku allows, and some of the bowstring-tight tension in the room loosens, drains away like foul bathwater. “If I may... I was unaware you were a General, nor that Mandalore had a standing army large enough for such a position.”

“He’s not,” Mereel says. “Used to be, won’t tell me where. It’s not my business, or yours. Title’s a holdover from whatever war he was fighting before we got him.”

Komari is not the only person whose heart drops as Master Dooku says, “Qui-Gon claimed that the rogue knight he’d met on Bandomeer mentioned a galactic war against the Sith.”

Mereel blinks, and then turns his seat around to look at Skywalker. The other Mandalorians look at Skywalker. Every single Jedi also looks at Skywalker.

The Togruta child sticks her tongue out at Master Dooku.

“I did say that,” Skywalker says. “What of it?”

“You know, when I said I didn’t care what fight you were running that turned you into a soldier, I kind of assumed it was something on the level of, say, a system-wide civil war,” Mereel drawls. “Not galactic Force nonsense.”

Skywalker shrugs. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“Because you’ll lie?”

“No, I’m just going to be really annoying about it,” Skywalker tells him. The Togruta giggles and shoves her face into his side. “Or, hell, I’ll let Ben do it. We both know he can talk circles around basically everyone in this room.”

“Skywalker.”

“Mereel.”

The two hold gazes for a moment that lasts just a little too long, and then Mereel breaks it off. “We’re talking about this later.”

“Of course, Mand’alor,” Skywalker says, with a grim sort of smile. “Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Mereel doesn’t seem particularly impressed by that.

Komari wonders if anyone else remembers that Skywalker was supposed to be here to make negotiations easier.

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

Yan Dooku is having a Day.

He’s not entirely sure whom to blame for this mess. Perhaps Yoda, for suggesting he handle this mission. Perhaps the governor of Galidraan, who decided collaborating with terrorists for his own gain was a good idea. Perhaps Jaster Mereel, whose influence and power is enough that Yan needs to tread carefully. Perhaps Qui-Gon, for giving him just enough information about Skywalker to cause some drama.

Perhaps Skywalker for being a recalcitrant, ornery bastard who delights in Yan’s suffering.

(One of the Mandalorians calls him that to his face, and Skywalker informs the man that “my mother always told me I didn’t have a father,” and stares until the Mando stammers out an apology and turns on his heel.)

(The smirk on Skywalker’s face is certainly informative.)

“Hi.”

Yan looks up from the datapad he’s been using to try and punch out a report, for all that he can’t find the words he needs, and sees the Togruta youngling from Skywalker’s side hanging upside-down from a ventilation grate.

He blinks evenly at her. “Good afternoon. Is that your normal manner of traversing the building?”

“Yeah, when Jan-Jan isn’t yelling at me about it,” she says, and drops from the ceiling. Seemingly without paying attention, she directs the grate itself back into place with the Force, screws reattaching themselves with only the slightest whisper. She’s done this many, many times.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who that is.”

“Jango Fett,” she clarifies. “Ad be Mand’alor.”

Child of the king.

He does remember that much from the briefing.

“I see,” Yan says, rather than try to tackle whatever the usage of such a nickname implies. “I’m afraid nobody’s seen fit to introduce you, youngling.”

“I’m Sokanth Skywalker, but most people call me Soka,” she says, with a bouncing, shallow bow. Full of energy, this one. “I’m eight.”

“The General is your father, then?”

“Mm-hm! He adopted me when I was almost two,” she says, and climbs up onto the bench. She wraps her arms around her knees and beams up. “Ben was still a baby, and we didn’t go get Shmi until a few months later when Skyguy could afford it.”

“Skyguy?” Yan prompts.

“My dad,” she explains, head tilting a little as she studies his reaction. “I... I’ve always called him Skyguy. He took care of me before he adopted me, for at least a year. He says I called him Skyguy when I first started talking, back then, and then he didn’t make me stop when he adopted me.”

“I see,” Yan says. “Does your father know you’re speaking with me?”

“Probably.”

“And would he approve?” Yan hints as heavily as he can. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“That’s because we’ve all seen what you could be,” she says. “But you’re not the Count yet, so it’s okay.”

Information. “Ah. Visions, then. That would explain some things.”

“Ben gets them the most,” she keeps talking. “But it’s not just that. It’s like... patterns. The Sith are going to target you, because they’re going to think you’re worth corrupting.”

“And you’ve seen enough Sith to know that?”

“Yeah.”

“Visions are not foolproof,” he says, trying to keep his tone gentle. He’s not used to interacting with children of this age, and this one comes with a father in the Mand’alor’s confidence, someone he can’t afford to irritate by making a daughter cry. “I have a friend who is very prone to visions, and some come true, some don’t, and others--”

“Are self-fulfilling,” Sokanth finishes for him. “I know that. But my dad’s actually fought Sith, y’know. The guy who cut off my dad’s arm used to be a Jedi Master, like you, and he was all fancy-schmancy and a history nerd for Sith stuff, and didn’t like the Council or their decisions very much. Like you.”

That’s... very personal.

“A surface-level similarity is not enough to make the claim that I am to become a Sith,” he says.

She blinks at him, eyes too large for a face that’s so near to human in bone-structure. It’s unnerving. “Whether or not you Fall is your choice, Count. All I can tell you is that you are the kind of person they look to groom... if only as a pawn.”

The words are too old for a girl her size.

“You speak as if you’ve faced the Sith yourself,” Yan says, well aware now that he needs to tread carefully, but... “You’re too young to go out into the field. I can’t imagine your father would allow a child like yourself to go up against someone that dangerous.”

She blinks those too large eyes, and tilts her head in the other direction, and then smiles. “You care. That’s good. Keep that compassion, Count.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I feel like you’re evading the question.”

Sokanth giggles. “Maybe. Buir doesn’t like us talking about it much. It makes him sad, ‘cuz he can’t help us not hurt, and a lot of it is really scary. It’s like... my memories are too big for my head. I don’t get a lot of visions, but I get a lot of dreams of things that happened that I’m not alive for. And buir does remember those things happening, so it’s true, and it happened, but I only... sort of remember it, and when I think about it too hard, it hurts my head. Or I get nightmares about it, and I don’t like those. Ben’s got it worse, though. He has more to fight.”

It’s a lot of information.

It’s confusing information.

It’s... possibly information that the General has asked her to feed him for reasons he can’t even begin to guess at.

“In this war your father fought,” Yan asks, “were you a soldier as well?”

“Commander,” she corrects, voice soft. “That’s what the dreams call me, before they start screaming.”

“How old are you really?” He asks, before he can quite stop himself.

She laughs, suddenly bright again. “I’m as old as I look. I’m eight. Just because the Force gives me memories I shouldn’t have doesn’t mean that my brain isn’t a kid. Sometimes Ben tries to act older than he is ‘cuz of the memories, y’know. Buir gets sad whenever he does that, ‘cuz he thinks we deserve to be kids before the galaxy goes to hell again.”

“He’s sure of such a thing?”

“It always does,” she says, with the air of someone who isn’t sure how their conversation partner could be quite that dense. Her voice takes on a sing-song cadence, like she’s telling a fable instead of a philosophy. “War always comes eventually. Not every sentient is selfish, but enough are, and they tend to be the ones that claw their way to the top. The rich and powerful will take and take and take, and then, when there’s nothing left, they will use their living stepping stones to tear each other apart. All we can do is be ready to end it as quickly as possible once it comes.”

Yan lets the claim sit for a long, quiet minute. “Did your father tell you that?”

“No,” she says. “Ben did.”

The six-year-old.

“He has a way with words,” Yan manages.

“Sometimes he uses his stuffed animals to host courtroom dramas,” she says. “He makes me look up the right laws so it can be procedurally accurate, ‘cuz he’s a nerd but so am I, and it makes Skyguy happy when he sees us playing like that instead of just doing saber forms and stuff.”

Yan has... no idea what to do with that. “I wouldn’t normally call courtroom dramas a normal children’s activity.”

“Yeah, but Ben’s a nerd,” she says, as if that’s all that needs to be said. Maybe, for her, it is. “And there’s only so much time I’m allowed to spend hunting.”

Right. Togruta.

“And what was your father doing at that age?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about that,” she says immediately. “Because it’s very private and he and Shmi get upset if we bring it up, ‘cuz of trauma and stuff.”

Shmi. The... sister, he thinks. People seem to be unclear on that. He’s heard a few refer to the teenager as just “one of Skywalker’s,” so that’s something to consider. She’s near-perfectly halfway between the children and the General, in terms of age, so it’s a little ambiguous where she fits.

That said, he’s been in a lot of places in his time as a Jedi Master. It’s taken him a little longer than it should have to realize, but he thinks he’s got at least part of the puzzle.

Skywalker’s a slave name. Tatooine, specifically.

It’s not confirmation, really, but...

Well. He thinks it’s better he doesn’t dig, on that subject.

“Hey,” Sokanth says, tugging at his sleeve. “Can I ask ya something?”

“I cannot promise an answer, but you may ask.”

“Can you spar with Skyguy? I wanna see who wins.”

[ariespluto]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾  moon signs based on observations  ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

here are the moon signs based on my knowledge and the people i’ve seen and met from observations!

aries moon: play time, needs spontaneity. feels emotions intensely but too much stuffiness and theyll feel put off. funny and kinda aggressively jokes sometimes, independent on the inside. strong people.

taurus moon: COMFORT!! so cute. lives on comfy and pretty clothes, daydreams of romantic endeavours, very sweet and kind lovely people, and very loyal and committed romantic partners. but stubborn and gets frustrated easily- dont argue with them, very set on their ideas.

gemini moon: nErVoUS. overthinking. but also rlly cool. loves to ask questions, curious people, fun playful childlike energy, need to journal or needs to get out words and thoughts they internalise or else theyll explode. have cool style. many different interests. intellectual ppl.

cancer moon: empaths. the cliche crybaby i hate to admit it (unless afflicted by saturn), all ive known have been crybabies. stuck on the past, remembers everything. emotionally available, and bc of that sometimes gives their heart to the wrong people. just be nice to them pls. very nurturing homely energy around these people. wants children.

leo moon: give them compliments and affection please, they must be protected. needs recognition. kinda dramatic and fussy but its funny at the same time. funny people. have so much love, loves physical touch and affection, BIG hearted people. VERY generous.

virgo moon: very careful and articulated with thoughts or words. perfectionists and realists. gentle but can nitpick at details too much or become pessimistic if their criticism turns inwards and eventually spreads outward. witty and and a laid-back, lowkey energy, cool people and can be initially introverted. friends come to you for advice.

libra moon: yall pretty istg. indecisive, flirty or at least having multiple crushes on people, hopeless romantic and creative people. charming and knows how to charm people with words. people pleasing, pretty belongings, clothes, aesthetic is important to you.

scorpio moon: s e c r e t i v e emotions, or either oversharing. can be misunderstood by others and seen as intimidating. or just rlly intense and can feel consumed or overwhelmed with emotions but tries hides it with a cool face. going thru it the most. but very powerful people also, hold alot of power within them. just remember to not get too caught up in seeing only the negatives.

sagittarius moon: wants to travel and just go out explore. very funny, good at bouncing back from hard times, keeping things light, independent but sociable at same time. positivity! but also has a habit of hiding their sadness away with a happy face or by joking around to keep the mood light. doesnt really open up too much about dark shit too quick.

capricorn moon: honestly the sweetest ever once they trust you. holds alot of responsibility to an extent, always earning or has income of some sort, nags friends to go work. very stable friends for the long term and dependable and caring. so mature at a young age it kinda scares me.

aquarius moon: dissociation and detaching from people from time to time, but also really cool people, unique creative artists or musician type people. unique and interesting tastes + great minds. quiet and detached on the outside but actually very sweet and fond people on the inside. intellectual, progressive and humanitarian caring minds.

pisces moon: such a vibe goddamn, great music taste, and clothing taste. emotionally nurturing and understanding friends, so empathetic and emotional. always giving, spiritually in touch minded people, really creatively talented, biggest softies and probably talks to their plushies. but also ESCAPISM!! gets addicted to fantasy be careful of illusions/substances.

[vanillelace]

Stole Your Car.

⟡ ⠀warnings : swearing

⠀

⟡ ⠀pairings : park jisung x female reader, kind of some snippets of haechan x female reader

⠀

⟡ ⠀genres : fluff, a bit of comedy if possible, and a few sad moments, not many though. some of it is based on ‘stole your car’ by charlotte lawrence.

⠀

⟡ ⠀theme : college!au, ft. dance major!park jisung, music major!reader, friends to lovers!au.

⠀

⟡ ⠀word count : 8,543 words!!

⠀

⟡ ⠀synopsis : your ex broke up with you, and boy, it wasn’t pretty. you decide to take revenge on him by stealing his CAR. turns out, you get caught by park jisung, a shy at first ambivert. being kind at the moment, he assists you, but then blackmails you into tutoring him in his least favorite subject, english. what happens when you start going from acquaintances to friends to lovers? FEATURES OTHER MEMBERS OF NCT — WAYV, 127, DREAM + MORE GROUPS & IDOLS!

⠀

⟡ ⠀playlist (i.e. what i listened to whilst writing this) : https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6U8EP7w2Xef4bYFuHwpZos?si=nOig1UfYT12M2dYQGPhrAQ

⠀

⟡ ⠀a small note : the header used isn’t mine, and i couldn’t find the credits </3 i’ve tried to make the college theme as good as possible since i do not go to college right now. also the beginning seems a bit ten and haechan fixated but i swear it isn’t, i just want a backstory lol. have fun reading!

⠀

⟡ ⠀taglist : @aehyei @moonsclover <3

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→﹒look at what you started, now you can't blame this on me . . .

YOU knew it. eventually this day would come.

the day you would end up broken.

broken because of YOUR BOYFRIEND’S CUTENESS!

WHY WAS HE SO CUTE IT HURT?

you could go on and on, rambling about your boyfriend, ten lee. he was the most sought after boy in your college, Eros University.

now, your college name was not, in fact, named after the greek god of love. oh, no, no, no, the founder wanted to name it after asteroid 433. as wikipedia states, “asteroid 433, discovered in 1898, which comes at times nearer to the earth than any celestial body except the moon.” you would be the most taunted students if you went to a uni named after love. it’s a shuddering thought.

back to your boyfriend. he was thai, but he changed his name from chittaphon leechaiyapornkul to ten lee, which, as he said, “was easier to pronounce and more minimalistic”. he had this really pretty grey-black hair, mainly a VERY dark shade of grey, which just made you want to run your hands through it. he had pretty and bright, dancing phoenix eyes in a shade of hazel, and thin, pink lips. he had multiple piercings along his ear, thereby increasing his attractiveness. you never knew when he had the guts to ask you out, but he did, and now, you had been dating for 7 months.

at some point, you knew the relationship wasn’t going well, but you kept moving anyway. you loved him, he loved you, that’s all that matters, right?

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you shook yourself awake from your dream when you heard the doorbell of your dorm ring. you opened it, the gap small enough for you to peep out and see who disturbed your thoughts. you had an assignment given by your music teacher, and eventually one or the other way you ended up thinking about ten.

a voice rang out behind the door in an opera-like voice, shaking you, once again, from your thoughts. you instantly recognized the voice. “HYUCK!” you yelled, happy to see your best friend. “wait a second, i’ll unlock my door,” you muttered, frustrated with your doorknob. it kept getting stuck, and you were sooner or later going to complain to the head of dorms.

you just needed the guts to do it.

“Y/N!” lee donghyuck, known on campus as haechan, yelled back. “stop flexing your vocals on me, we all know you’re the top of our batch, so shut the fuck up.”

donghyuck clutched a hand over where his heart would be, and dramatically began, “hey! that hurts. i’m not flexing, just proving i deserve the role at top,” and sat down on a barstool chair in your kitchen-slash-dining area, pretending to faint of agony that you didn’t believe in his modesty. “not flexing MY FOOT. you should’ve taken drama, that would’ve made it easier for me to move up one place to the first rank. and you would’ve excelled anyway.”

“ding, ding, ding! guess who gave an extremely accurate answer.” you rolled your eyes at his words, and walked over to the kitchen counter to make him his usual favorite — mixed fruit jam and CHEESE. “i still don’t get how you like this shit.” you said, and haechan grinned. “what? in my defence, i’m weird too.”

“can’t argue with that.” you told him, and he punched you playfully. you guys had been best friends before coming to Eros, and met in high school. you shared a love for music and a hatred for science, so you got along pretty well. you teased and insulted each other, but you also had each other’s backs.

he was handsome, to say the least. full, crimson lips, round eyes, short, caramel hair, and a baby face. he had his own group of friends, but still he loved your company as you did his. he was famous in the school and knew it.

you handed him his sandwich, and grabbed a m&m’s chocolate bar from the big box of chocolates your parents sent you from where they were traveling. according to their recent letter, it was uae — united arab emirates. after you went off to university, they decided to visit a list of places they had seen with you before, in what you believed to be an attempt to reminisce what had been before you decided to pursue your dreams of being a singer-songwriter, but they said that it was because they “wanted to see what they missed the last time”.

to be honest to yourself, you hoped they were lying about it, and that you were right. you missed them, but you knew that if you wanted to do what you really wanna, you had to make sacrifices.

at least you were lucky enough to have a friend, a best friend at that.

“heeeeeellllooooooooooooooo??”

haechan’s voice snapped you out of your messed up feelings. “sorry, i zoned out a bit. want a bit of my chocolate?” you offered haechan, who promptly broke a piece out of yours. he laughed, the sound a beautiful melody to your ears. you smiled, the right side of your lips turning upwards, as they always did when you genuinely smiled.

you spent the rest of the evening talking about the most recent gossip and scandals of uni, and waved as he left.

ah, how you enjoyed his company.

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you lived in your dorm room alone, since you had opted for a room for a single person. you liked what you had done with the place. it had a coat of paint in the shade of beige, and looked vintage, yet cozy. everyone knew you to be a natural at decorating and styling. everyone was jealous about your sense of style, and always asked you for tips on their own rooms and aesthetics.

you began on your night routine for your skin, carefully washing your face. once the 30 minutes long drill was complete, you threw yourself on your bed, a gorgeous shade of peacock blue. opening your phone, you went through your messages. ten had sent you a text 15 minutes ago, asking if you were free at the moment.

you immediately responded, because he had punctuated his sentence correctly. as far as you knew, ten NEVER EVER did that.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀Ten 😸🤍

Hi Y/n, are you free right now?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀yes, i am. what’s up?

So.. I want to break up.

you looked up, staring blankly at your wall, where a framed picture of you and ten rested. you sighed, and knew that this was it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀Ten 😸🤍

Hi Y/n, are you free right now?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀yes, i am. what’s up?

So.. I want to break up.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ok

That’s.. it?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀yea

Wait, fr?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀mhm

What the fuck is up?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀this wouldve happened anyway whats the point

Oh

Can we stay friends?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ok

No, seriously, are you okay?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀Yes

Since when are you this dry?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀since the breakup, duh u dumbass

I’m…

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀i doubt a friendship will work out but sure let’s be besties‼️

ok gn y/n

you changed the contact name from Ten 😸🤍 to Ten 💀

you played your playlist on spotify, tears running on your face, leaving wet streaks behind. no. you wouldn’t cry. you knew this would happen, then why did it hurt so much?

you blindly dialed haechan’s number, and he picked up immediately.

“hello? y/n?”

you sobbed in reply, and he exhaled on the other end of the call.

“i’m on my way, i’ll get you some popcorn, tissues, some more chocolates, the sad shirt, and a movie.”

he disconnected the call, and you smiled through your tears. he always knew you, and you had never been more happier to call him your best friend.

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haechan sighed. no matter how strong you pretended to be, he saw through it, because he liked you, like, REALLY liked you, but you could never take a hint. he got his hopes up, but they crashed down around him. he grabbed the things he promised from the store on campus, and the sad shirt. he ran over to your dorm, ringing the bell. he watched footsteps come closer underneath the door, where a small amount of light showed the shadow of your small, fur-slippers covered feet. he patiently waited for you to unlock your door, staring at you when you did.

you always looked pretty, and this time wasn’t an exception. your brown curls with honey blonde highlights looked even messier than usual. although your face was streaked with dried tears, your usual pink cheeks remained. haechan grimaced at your pained state, and walked in, closing the door behind him.

“thanks, hyuck. what movie did you bring?” you asked, managing a watery smile at him. his grimace increased, if it were possible. “welllllll… i brought my laptop, so we can watch netflix? some series for teenagers that’s sure to make you cringe? or i don’t know, laugh..?” he replied, and you smiled. “alexa and katie!”

he laughed, opening netflix on his laptop, offering you the chocolates and sad shirt that he brought over simultaneously. alexa and katie had always been your favorite. haechan left you with the laptop, going to the kitchen to pop some popcorn. slipping the sad shirt over your head, you grabbed a few of the tissues, rubbing your face til the dried lines of tears were cleaned up, and sat in thought.

“haechan, what if i stole his car?”

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“NOW WAIT A DAMN MINUTE— WHAT? WHOSE CAR? WHAT’S GOING ON??”

haechan screamed in fear, running into the living room with oven mittens on, and a cooker full of just-popped popcorn. “can we like, explain what happened before we do something we regret?” haechan spoke, as though he was explaining how 1+1=2 to a cranky 3 year old.

you knew it made 3 though — 1+1=3. no one could change your mind on THAT.

“well, ten broke up with me over text,” you began, and haechan’s eyes began to light up. ‘NO. SHE WAS BROKEN UP WITH, YOU DON’T FEEL HAPPY, YOU FEEL SAD. YOU DUMBASS.’ he mused to himself, and you continued, “so now maybe i should steal his car. you see, i was listening to this one song by charlotte lawrence, and the lyrics GOT to me. you know?”

haechan blinked at you several times. “okay. firstly. you don’t get inspired by songs. you listen to them, and then enjoy it.” “even if it’s ‘dreams come true’??” “yes.” he replied, and continued. “next. THAT FUCKING DICKWAD BROKE UP WITH YOU OVER TEXT?” you started snickering.

“DICKWAD? SERIOUSLY, HYUCK?”

you doubled up with laughter, giggling til donghyuck was sure you had completely lost it. “MY POINT,” he began again, “IS THAT YOU ARE MOST DEFINITELY NOT GOING TO STEAL ANYONE’S CAR, EVEN IF THAT COMPLETE PIECE OF SHIT BROKE UP WITH YOU OVER THE FUCKING PHONE.”

“hey! don’t insult him, he may be a jerk, but he was a nice jerk anyway.” you scolded him, and hyuck rolled his eyes again. “i- did you not comprehend the subject of my numerous sentences?” “stop acting like you’re a scholar in english, we all know you barely scrape through. and yes, i did, but i choose to ignore them. i feel RECKLESS. it’s like the breakup has granted me FREEDOM, you know? i can do whatever the fuck i want without having to think about what ten will think. he was nice, but i was getting stressed out about his reputation. we shall see who had the real post-breakup makeover.”

“THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS A POST-BREAKUP MAKEOVER THOU-“

you held up a hand, and he rolled his eyes. “I MADE IT UP, OKAY? back to the point, we shall go out and steal his car NOW.”

he ran a hand through his hair, then realized he was still wearing his oven mitts. his frustration slowly turned into surprise, and his face followed the same transition. you bit back a laugh, looking at his horrified state as he noticed he still held a hand over the cooker filled with buttery popcorn, whose scent was tantalizing.

“it’s okay, you can laugh.” he said in annoyance, and you giggled like a 6 year old who just got an ice cream. he smiled at your happiness, satisfied to be the cause of it.

damn, was he whipped.

“fine, we’ll steal a car tonight. but first, please, just please, let’s watch alexa and katie with the popcorn i spent a lot of time making?” he pleaded, and you grinned, nodding.

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after watching two episodes of alexa and katie as promised, you unhesitatingly jumped up to get ready. haechan unwillingly left your room to get ready in his own dorm. you put on a black full-sleeved turtleneck along with black trackpants, and black sports shoes.

okay, maybe you were being overdramatic, but it’s FINE.

you met haechan at his dorm, where he too had matched with you. you blinked at each other, and then laughed at the same time. “can’t believe we’re matching AGAIN.” he said, still clutching the stitch that occurred due to laughter. you beamed, and beckoned to him to follow.

you walked to the parking lot, where you saw ten’s love of his life.

the most beautiful jeep you had ever seen in your life.

you smirked at haechan, whose eyes widened. “look, wait- Y/N!” he raised his voice a bit, and you shushed him, stopping in your tracks. “what?” “we should think about this, you could go to fucking jail.” “…your point?” “jail, you dumbass, JAIL.” he said, irritated by your casual behavior. you rolled your eyes, and you continued moving ahead, haechan right beside you, each trying to prove their point.

“FUCK-“

three voices rang through the night, and those three knew — they had screwed up.

big time.

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footsteps could be heard, coming ever closer. nursing your injured ankle, you pulled the other two, one being haechan, and one being an unknown human.

“wait, i can convince them about what you idiots were doing. just don’t be so sketchy.” the stranger whispered as lights flashed on the three of you, throwing some brightness on the person’s face, whom you recognized to be a friend of haechan’s.

park jisung.

“JISUNG? HAECHAN? Y/N? what the actual fuck is going on?” a classmate of yours, also a part of haechan’s group of buddies, na jaemin, enquired, an eyebrow raised.

“i was walking, but then ran into these two blind idiots. i swear to god, if i’ve broken something, i will be eliminating someone.” jisung said angrily, and your eyes widened. damn, this guy’s good.

“oh. well. you guys should get back. luckily it was me who found you and not any of the seniors. they’d have you guys grounded or some immature shit.” jaemin muttered, and smiled apologetically. “sorry for being so panicky, i was just worried, i heard a sound of pain. you guys alright?” he asked, and you three winced, and nodded. “alright, good night. i’m off to my dorm.”

jaemin waved, and you smiled back, waving. immediately after he was out of sight, jisung turned to face you and haechan.

“care to explain what you had been doing?”

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after a sip of hot chocolate, you began explaining everything to jisung, who haechan assured could be trusted. jisung was a wonderful audience, reacting to your dramatic retelling with all the right responses, gasping in the right places, rolling his eyes in the right places, wiping pretend tears from his eyes too. after you explained why he found you and donghyuck attempting to steal a car, jisung calmly placed his mug aside.

with a straight face, he asked, “well, nice story. beautiful, really. the rollercoaster of emotions i just went on,” — he clutched a hand to his heart — “painful. anyways, i’d like something in return for my silence. what are you willing to sacrifice?”

you blinked at haechan accusingly.

“BITCH? YOU SAID HE CAN BE TRUSTED —“ you began, picking up your own half-filled mug of steaming hot chocolate, fully intending to throw it at his face. alarmed, he ducked, and jisung just sipped air.

you then proceeded to scream at haechan, who raised his hands protectively in front of his face. “I’M TOO YOUNG TO LOSE MY ATTRACTIVENESS!” he yelled at you, and jisung began grinning ear to ear. this had been the best k-drama he had ever seen, and HE was a part of their group of pals, nct dream.

“FUCK YOUR ATTRACTIVENESS, BITCH, YOU BETRAAAAAAYED ME, AND I KNOW YOU’LL NEVER FEEL SORRYYYYYYYY…”

“STOP BRINGING MUSIC INTO THIS.. I NEVER SAID HE WOULDN’T OFFER A FEE OR SOMETHING.”

you both turned to jisung, and he pointed to himself. “why are you looking at me like i’m an imposter or some shit?” he muttered, backing away. you turned to haechan, just as he turned to you.

“GET HIM!” you shouted in chorus.

“STOP BEING SO IMMATURE! MY FEE IS THAT Y/N TUTORS ME IN ENGLISH!” jisung yelled, just as you both jumped at him, only to begin tickling him. “STOP THAT HURTS HAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHA-“ jisung began crying with laughter, and you and haechan retreated to stare at him.

“so.. you were this dramatic to get me to tutor you?” you asked in a deadly undertone. jisung’s eyes grew slowly wider in fear, and haechan put a hand over his mouth, a pure act of drama. you grimly smiled, and said, “STOP GETTING SO SCARED, I’M NOT THE ONE WHO SPEAKS FLUENT DRAMA.”

jisung gave you a true look of ‘i’m-about-to-commit-a-crime’ and rolled his eyes. “do you agree, or not?”

you and donghyuck began discussing in whispers, as though you were planning something fatal. “we’re hyping this up for no reason, aren’t we?” hyuck asked you, and you nodded. “we need some advantages since it’s our secret and my fault we ended up here, besides it’s just a tutorship, what could go wrong?”

oh, a lot could go wrong.

but we don’t talk about that.

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your classes began at 9 AM. since you lived on-campus, you had a variety of on-campus dining options. however, you always grabbed a coffee with haechan’s friends, who called themselves nct 127, at the café, where haechan, and mark, one of the members of nct 127, worked after college.

your usual schedule was café at 8:30 AM, where you’d meet 127 squad, class from 9 AM to 12:45 PM, after which you had your lunch at the restaurant at Eros, classes again from 1:15 PM to 3 PM, and then homework from 3:30 PM to 5 PM. however, what with your tutoring, you had to move around your homework schedule. so you ended up holding the tutorials at 3:30 to 4:30 PM, and homework from 5 to 6:30 PM, leaving a bit of time for your dinner.

life just got a hundred times more confusing.

“what coffee do you want, y/n?” mark asked you, and you jumped. “oh- errr… maybe… a vanilla and caramel latte?” mark looked at you as though you were the weirdest person he’d ever seen (which was, most probably, true) and enquired, concerned, “what? you sure?” you nodded, “very sure.” and went to sit at the 127’s table.

“hey y/n!” the fake youngest waved enthusiastically, moon taeil. “hii taeil! how are you?” “we’re all fine, are you though? i know about it.”

your eyes immediately grew to the size of plates, and you turned around to haechan, who shrugged. “i have no idea what they’re talking about,” he said. you fake smiled at him, and turned back to taeil, asking, “know about what?”

“the breakup, dumbo.”

oh.

OH.

“OH. yeah i’m fine, i already knew it would’ve happened anyway.” taeyong nodded approvingly, and smiled at you, the smile reaching his eyes. “that’s the super-strong y/n we know and love!” you grinned, and you 9 began chattering about everything and nothing until mark brought over your orders.

after slurping down the coffee, you reached the main building, a beautiful place, inspired by ancient greek architecture. yes, Eros didn’t use the idea of the greek god, but many people believed the founder was bluffing when they said they named it after an ASTEROID.

there were intricate engravings into the pillars that stood tall, and they were painted in different shades of elegant colors, with the etches outlined in bright, glittering gold paint. even though it had been months since you first saw them, they always instilled a feeling of awe in everyone who saw the prettiness of the place. shaking your head to remember what you come here for, you walked off in the direction of your first lecture that morning — maths, one of your best and favorite subjects.

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after a delicious lunch of rice with a side of stir-friend vegetables, and a chocolate lava cake washed down with a glass of grape juice, you were stuck in your last lecture of the day. science.

why did you take science? good question, something even you can’t answer yourself.

you rolled your eyes at the teacher, a 46 year old misery. no offense to her, but you, for one, were getting sick of her monotonous voice. you knew that if this went on for another 15 more minutes you’d be fast asleep. you couldn’t do that though, you had barely been passing science with a B+, if you fell asleep in class your teacher would NEVER let you get off the hook. she may as well give you a F and let you enjoy your last days at Eros Uni.

lost deep in thoughts, you didn’t realize that the old woman had been calling your name MANY times. “MS. Y/L/N! ARE YOU UNABLE TO HEAR, MY DEAR? OR MORE LIKELY DROOLING OVER BOYS. DETENTION. 3 TO 4. UNDERSTOOD?” you groaned audibly, and if it were possible, the teacher looked even madder. “yes, ma’am,” you hastily replied, before you could get in more trouble.

there goes your perfect schedule.

you followed the teacher after class to the detention room. this wasn’t your first time in this room, you had been caught writing down song lyrics, daydreaming, texting in class, and a lot of other stuff. and it was mainly the science lecturer who gave you detention, and you were, to be honest, getting tired of it.

after you had taken your seat, she said, “look, we both know you will end up sneaking in something to keep you from getting too bored. so save us the drama, and do what you want. as long as it’s appropriate, i’m fine with it. i’d give you an essay, but we’re bored of that too, so,”

you cringed at her words. is that what she really thought of you?

“nope, i’ll do the essay. what’s the topic?”

the teacher smiled — something you hadn’t seen till now. it mesmerized you, the way she suddenly transformed into someone 20 years younger.

“write an essay on your personality. no word limit, just express yourself.”

you grinned at her, getting out your pencil. essays were a piece of cake to you — this one shouldn’t be any tougher.

although you were the top in english, you found yourself genuinely thinking as you looked at the blank sheet of paper. you realized it was difficult to write about yourself on the spot. did you even know yourself, like you claimed to?

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after the invigorating discovery that you didn’t really know yourself, your science teacher had helped you out with what she saw you as. her answers surprised you. it wasn’t until you had finally reached your dorm after mending your relationship with your teacher that you realized it.

YOUR TUTORING SESSION. WITH JISUNG. suddenly realizing that it was 4:30 PM already, you hurriedly unlocked your dorm room.

you screamed.

jisung and haechan were standing in your kitchen, and screamed when they saw you.

the three of you screamed till you had the sense to stop. they weren’t burglars after all. they were JUST the two dunderheads jisung and haechan, who decided it was a good idea to enter your dormitory without letting you know about it first. you gave them a fake smile, grabbing the nearest broomstick. you ran after haechan, who kept screaming “extra keys for what” and “i didn’t know you weren’t here”, and began whacking him with the broomstick.

jisung began giggling, enjoying the scenes as always. “MOMMYY I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” haechan cried, and you rolled your eyes. “okay, fine, i’ll stop,” you said reluctantly, and placed the broomstick where it belonged. “anyways, i got detention, sorry, we can have the tuition now, i guess,” you muttered, throwing your backpack on the barstool, removing the homework you had gotten.

you groaned in annoyance. you had literal STACKS of homework to be done, not to mention dinner. haechan and jisung stared at your homework, and haechan grinned. “happy to not have taken science!” he cheered, and helped himself to a coke from your fridge, settling on a barstool across you. you sighed, knowing you brought this on yourself.

“i can help you with your science work, then we can do the tutoring. i don’t mind really, i just need to pass english to go ahead with my dancing,” jisung offered, and you looked at him as though he were an angel from heaven.

haechan didn’t like it one bit. “i’ll do your math homework!” haechan excitedly offered, and you raised an eyebrow at him. “you, excited, to do math? woah. consider my mind officially blown,” you told him, sarcasm dripping through your words. haechan’s determination to prove to you he waa equally helpful now reached the peak of his patience. “watch me,” he said, and began furiously reading through the homework. grabbing your math textbook, he proceeded to surprise both you and jisung by scribbling down multiple formulas.

you and jisung blinked at each other, and got down to work.

by the time it was 5, you three had finished off everything except the computer sciences homework. surprisingly, it was simple enough for you to finish in 15 minutes. once you set the pen down, you let out a breath of relief. “thank you guys, i’d have most definitely struggled if i hadn’t had your help, so thanks. now, as per our deal, let’s do this tuition!” you pumped your fist in the air, and the boys winced in second-hand embarrassment.

“what?” you asked, pouting, and they cringed even more. “FINE. I GET IT, LET’S MOVE ON, haechan you can leave now, thanks for proving that you indeed are good at math, and that you are just lazy, and so won’t work hard enough on it.” you told him, and he looked at you blankly. “am i not allowed to be here? i swear, i won’t do anything. i’m gonna sit in your living room! okay bye!” he said in one breath, and ran at top speed to the couch.

you sighed, and turned to jisung. “fine, what do you have a problem in understanding?” “well, i don’t get vocabulary, mainly, like, i confuse homophones and homonyms, i misspell words, and i don’t find the right words either.”

and so your tutoring officially began, featuring haechan steaming with jealousy.

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eventually haechan gave up on sabotaging your tuitions, and he grew grumpy. every time you tried to talk to him about it, he always shook you off.

“just put us all out of our misery and admit it already. you like her.” jaehyun confronted haechan at the usual 127 meeting. “no i don’t.” haechan folded his arms. “you’re in denial.“ yuta offered, “i am not in denial!” haechan exclaimed.

“sure..” yuta narrowed his eyes, and doyoung rolled his eyes. “look. you like her? TELL HER. even an idiot can tell you like her, so we aren’t stupid,” he said, and haechan sighed. “jisung and her are getting all buddy-buddy, and i don’t like it.”

“so you’re willing to sacrifice y/n’s happiness for your own?” jungwoo questioned, in the midst of eating his favorite, super-hot, super-spicy bowl of noodles. everyone’s jaws dropped. since when did jungwoo begin to actually use the talent he had in making such deep, meaningful lines?

“what? don’t look so shocked to see i actually use my brain, alright?” he stated, exasperated. “anyways, think about it haechan,” johnny said, and haechan realized he had never actually thought about it that way. was he really hurting y/n by attempting to ruin her tuitions?

he loved seeing you happy, and he never wanted to be the cause of your unhappiness.

“i guess i’ll have to think of a way to show her my love for her,” he said.

‘or maybe i should just move on,’ he thought privately. no one would ever know, anyway.

and so he did. he got together with a girl, yoo jimin, known on campus as karina. she was popular, along with her group of friends, aespa. your friendship with them blossomed, and soon you were well-known all over campus, even more than you already were.

haechan still facepalmed internally every time you friendzoned him, but he couldn’t blame you anymore.

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meanwhile, things were going BRILLIANT with you and jisung, unpredictably. you weren’t friends yet, but were getting to know each other. you held your tuitions at the café, and you had never noticed how charming and cozy the café actually was.

the tempting aroma of fresh coffee was distracting, and so was the constant opening and closing of doors. the coffee was a welcome diversion nonetheless, after all, you were tutoring an attractive boy. the staff at the café constantly called out other students’ names every time their order was ready, causing your teaching to be interrupted. whispered conversations went on around you, ranging from the coffee to how you were hanging with so many of the most sought-after boys around university, and you rolled your eyes at the latter. to be honest, you had had enough of it, but it wasn’t like you could particularly tell them off for it. gossip is gossip after all.

nevertheless, jisung could tell the frequent whispers were getting on your last nerve. “hey, i know they annoy you, but we need to put up with it. i’m quite frankly tired of it too, i don’t want to be called “most sought-after” anyway. i’m so sorry that my association with you is leading to this gossip, y/n,” he told you, hugging you one especially tiring day, and you sighed, smiling exhaustedly. “well, jisung, i guess so. it’s not your fault you’re cute anyways,” “wait— did you just call me cute?” he smirked at you, breaking the hug, and you rolled your eyes. how cliché, the girl lets slip she finds the boy attractive.

“yes, i did, got a problem?” you replied, still reeling over the sudden hug. he laughed, and you had never noticed how deep his voice was. like damn, boy, you literally turned 19 some time ago—

these days, you had been noticing the littlest things about him. the way he looked down and gave a small smile every time you complimented him, how his hair kept bouncing every time he had a spring in his step and made you want to ruffle it, how he rolled his eyes and the sides of his lips turned down when he was annoyed, how he pouted when he was sad, how his eyes smiled when he genuinely was happy, and a lot more stuff you could probably write an essay about.

do you like him? yes, yes you did.

did he like you back? probably not, but what did it matter?

you liked him, so maybe one day you’d make a move.

maybe.

one day.

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you were scanning through three books at the same time when jisung found you, and he blinked. what were you doing with three, old, thick books?

light reading.

light reading to write a song.

light reading to write a song for your assignment.

you usually had a lot of creativity, but what with your struggle to teach (which, by the way, you would not have been able to do before the deal was made,) and to catch up with homework, you were struggling. jisung helped you as much as he could, but haechan had been avoiding you. that was a problem for another time, you decided.

it hurt, but it was fine, right?

anyway, jisung studied your figure, bent over the books, sipping coffee every two pages in the three books. one which he recognized to be a dictionary, one that looked strangely like one of the books from the harry potter series, and one which, again, seemed to be ANOTHER dictionary. now, he was no genius, but he for sure knew you didn’t require two dictionaries to do anything.

or was he just stupid?

yeah, he probably wasn’t, he concluded, you were just probably showing off or being yourself. he walked over to where you were seated, and thumped the table. when you didn’t show any signs of noticing, he decided to thump your back.

that, he later thought, was the moment he’d travel back in time and kick himself in the fucking face.

just as his hand hit your back, you took a huge gulp of coffee. the only bright side was that the books were safely out of the way. you spontaneously began choking on the super-hot coffee, and he panicked. he thwacked your back even more violently, and you held a hand up to stop him. “j-jisung, stOP.” you managed to speak, and he obeyed. after about 5 minutes of the whole library looking at you, not bothered to help, you finally calmed down.

“jisung, did you seriously have to do that? you could’ve just called my name,” you muttered through tears of pain and humiliation. “oh, sorry. didn’t think of that,” he replied guiltily. “it’s fine, i’ll just clean the table up, and get myself a glass of water.”

he waited patiently for you to get back, and once you had done all that you mentioned, he sat you down on the chair. “what were you even doing with those books?” “oh, me! i have a simply delightful project — write a song based on anything,” you replied, going back to the books. “look, just look around you. you’ll get the perfect idea, and if you know that idea well, you’ll get the right words too.” he suggested, and you looked at him in a whole new light.

“damn, jisung, thanks,” you told him, surprised, but thankful. “anyways, any reason in specific you were here?” you asked him, and he nodded, saying, “oh yeah, you know how haechan has been avoiding you? well, i think i have a reasonable explanation for that.” he told you, and you gestured him to go on.

“i suspect he likes you.”

you again spit out your coffee, which this time succeeded in burning your tongue. “fuck, i’ll go clean the table and get you some water,” jisung mumbled, running at full speed to do what he offered. meanwhile, you processed what he had just told you.

no way.

right?

‘well, i mean, he had dropped subtle hints, but i guess i dismissed them?’ you wondered, and asked jisung about it. “well, i’m sure he likes you. just talk to him, i’m sure you’ll have resolved everything soon!” he gave you a thumbs up, and you smiled at him.

“wanna be friends?” you asked him, and he nodded. “yep, let’s be friends, y/n y/l/n.”

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with jisung’s encouragement, you slowly built up courage to talk to haechan. it had been one week since the iconic conversation at the library, and you were currently standing outside haechan’s dorm. you knocked, waiting for donghyuck to open the door. you bounced on the balls of your feet, biting your lip in nervousness, when you heard the door open — finally.

“what do you wa- oh. hi, y/n.” he said, and you smiled. here goes nothing.

“look, do you have a crush on me?” you asked, and he looked at you weirdly. “i did, but it was time to move on, y/n,” he said wearily, “you didn’t like me back, so what was the point? don’t worry, i’m over it, i swear,” he added, and you grinned. “okay then, tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“i didn’t know what to tell you, y/n. i’m sorry.”

“well, you don’t need to. hang out soon?”

“OF COURSE, BITCH. no need to get sentimental, i’ll get ready right now. where to?” he asked, and you smiled smugly.

“meet me at the café, i’ll tell you more there.”

after haechan got there, you smiled innocently at him and said, “let’s go ice skating!”

he looked at you unfazed. “and what made you think i’d be super scared to go ICE skating?”

“because where i’m taking you is absolute hell.”

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by the time you reached the place you were describing, haechan was wailing like a baby, screaming at you to back off and not take him, that he would do anything you wished for except this.

it was none other than the rink owned by his parents.

“y/n, please, i will do whatever you tell me to, but please, PLEASE, NOT THIS PLACE, I WILL CRY.” he pleaded, and you smiled. “cry then. this is what you deserve for ignoring me for WEEKS.”

dragging him out of the car, you met up with some of your friends, known on-campus as wayv. “hey guys! help me with this moron,” you grunted, and they smirked at haechan. kun and yangyang lifted him up, whilst you went to meet up with haechan’s mom.

“hey, mrs. lee! you should have fun with your son!” you said, hugging her. she laughed, and walked off towards where her son and wayv were arguing about some nonsense, which you definitely didn’t want any part in.

sighing with relief at having your best friend back, you turned to your next problem. solving your feelings for jisung.

to speak of the devil, you saw jisung hanging out by the corner of the rink awkwardly. you smiled, looking at him ruffling his hair as though he was trying to look coolly bored. biting back a laugh, you skated your way to him. “spying on me, huh?” you laughed, and his eyes grew wide. “wh- what? no..” he said, cringing at himself.

“you don’t know how to skate, do you?” you asked him, and he nodded in reply. pulling him by the arms, you said, “then i take it upon myself to teach you.”

he opened his mouth to speak, and indecisively shut it, his awkwardness slowly turning into fear. “Y/N,” he began, but it was too late — you had already pushed him away from yourself, and his arms flailed in an attempt to maintain some composure.

it failed.

he flopped on to his back, and groaned in pain. you skated your way to him, and helped him up. he rolled his eyes at you in irritation and became determined to perfect this activity. you found joy in the way he was trying his best to learn by himself, but he was not faring well. your eyes narrowed at his terrible posture, and you put your arms on your waist, skidding to a stop before him.

after about 15 falls and 40 minutes of skating, jisung was beginning to get the hang of it. you watched him as he skated about the enormous rink, and smiled in self-contentment. you couldn’t take credit, but you at least rolled the dice to help jisung start learning ice-skating.

as you were humming contentedly to yourself, out of nowhere, jisung attacked you from behind with a hug. “thank you, y/n,” he murmured to you, and you went pink at the sudden contact. “uhm, you’re welcome!” you said, smiling at him, and continued, “wanna challenge me to a match of elegance?”

“sure!” he said confidently.

off you two went, and you spun around gracefully on the ice. you had been taught by none other than sunghoon, a true legend in your university when it came to ice-skating. he took classes for you and his friends, enhypen.

meanwhile, jisung managed a typical backflip, and landed on his feet perfectly. “what? don’t look so surprised, hey!” he grumbled, and you laughed, continuing to turn a beautiful pirouette. he rolled his eyes at you and continued struggling — that is, coming up — with different moves.

in the end, you won anyway. but it was worth it, jisung believed.

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your tutoring was going to end in a week, because tests were the next thing on your school schedule. the next and almost-final objective to pass. all the students in your uni were stressed out, and you were too. but you cheered yourself up, so that you were as relaxed as possible.

jisung, on the other hand, was more calmer than you expected him to be, especially in english. it was suspicious, but who were you to question it?

you, you decided, were y/n l/n. and you would most definitely question it.

when he arrived at your dorm for the tuition, you let him in, allowing him to settle himself comfortably on the couch. narrowing your eyes at him, you asked, “can i ask you two things?” “sure, but i hope the first question was a part of the two questions you are gonna ask me,” he said, drawing double quotation marks around ‘two questions’. you smiled, nodding, and continued, “why are you so relaxed about the tests? especially english?”

you watched as his eyebrows furrowed, and he put a finger to his head. “well, i figured the best way to battle stress would be to stay calm, right? plus, you’re the one who’s teaching me english. you, the legendary music, math, english student, y/n l/n.” he said, and your cheeks heated up. was that what everyone thought of you?

a legend?

“anyways, let’s begin.” you said, proceeding to explain the excerpt from Hamlet, by William Shakespeare, which, your english lecturer said, had a 90% possibility of being in your tests.

“hey y/n, do you know what’s william shakespeare in the past tense?” he asked, and you smirked, replying, “william shookspeare.” with a hundred percent confidence.

“you’re wrong,” he began, and continued, “wouldiwas shookspeared.”

“oh my god, jisung, no.”

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it was the day.

the beginning of your tests.

the first one was music, which you were sure you were gonna do well in. you had worked hard all year, and it paid off. next came science, and luckily you seemed to be prepared. you wrote and wrote, and decided you had done the paper justice. each assessment passed by, and finally came math.

you decided you weren’t gonna make your usual mistakes, and so thoroughly checked your paper four times. concluding you couldn’t possibly find more mistakes, you handed it in.

the examiner smiled at you, gesturing you to leave the hall. grabbing your bag, you sat at the café in-uni. it was time for your one week break, before the valentine’s dance, and before classes began again. waiting for the rest of your friends to arrive, you scrolled through your phone.

after about 10 to 15 minutes of waiting, you heard a loud noise. without looking up, you shifted to the side to let the whole of nct to get seats. jisung sat beside you, and you looked at him expectantly. “well?” you asked him, and he looked pensive. “sorry y/n.” he said, and your eyes broadened in disappointment. “but maybe i’ll come in the top 10 at least, for the english test,” he finished, laughing.

you hugged him impulsively, proud of your only student. he hugged you back, squishing you in his embrace. the rest of nct raised an eyebrow at you both, and you two raised your eyebrows at them back. “what?” you chorused, and laughed.

ordering coffees, you guys chatted about everything and nothing. one week of freedom, one week of peace.

or you hoped it’d be peaceful.

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you and jisung spent a lot of time together, touring around the university, going to amusement parks, horror houses, and a lot more. you wouldn’t call it dates, but even jisung had to admit sometimes, they felt like dates sometimes.

you and jisung were slowly falling in love with each other, but both didn’t want to ruin the relationship you had going. what if one rejected the other? would you still stay friends? those were the worries hoing on in both your heads.

slowly, the vacation passed. it was sunday, the day of the valentine’s dance. it was mandatory for all students, although you had no idea why. you guys all knew it was stupid to make it a compulsion. the teachers, on the other hand, said it would “level up your social skills” and “teach you how to make friends”. you called it bullshit.

however, you had no option, so why not eliminate the competition by dressing up ravishingly, you thought.

after getting ready, you looked at the mirror, satisfied. you had slipped on a sequined, sparkling wine-red dress that reached just below your knees, hugging your figure comfortably. to honor valentine’s day, you put on long, dangling earrings that showed cupid on one, and an arrow of love on the other. you put on your watch, and put on a bit of makeup, that is, red lipstick, and a choice of a smokey shade of eyeshadow.

pulling on your black pencil heels, you inhaled deeply, grabbing a bite of chocolate to calm yourself. you had no idea why you were this nervous, it wasn’t like you had a date.

right?

you heard a rap on your door, and you opened it. you were met with an awe-struck jisung, who stared at you up and down. “y/n.” he said, and it sounded more like a question than a statement. you grinned questioningly, and asked, “what are you doing here?” “i don’t know, haechan told me to meet him at your room… oh.” you turned your eyes up to the ceiling, facepalming yourself. of course, he’s shipping you two.

“well.. do you wanna come with me to the dance?” he asked, and you nodded, getting a bit shy. “sure, jisung. let’s go!” you said, grabbing your phone and dorm keys. he waited for you to lock your door, and making sure it was locked well, he guided you to his car. it was a dark green jeep, not unlike ten’s, but jisung’s was built for rough, bumpy roads.

as he started the vehicle, after opening the door for you, you looked at him closely. he was wearing a black suit, which unsurprisingly complimented his light brown — grayish hair. the jeep didn’t suit his outfit however.

the ride to the venue of the dance was filled with small talk, and you never realized how easy it was to talk around him. after parking his jeep, he helped you out of his car, opening the door for you. helping you get off, he locked his jeep, following you into the small hall that had been rented out for the dance.

you both headed straight for the food, you heading for the desserts, and him heading for the savory stuff. you didn’t want to dance, but he did. he didn’t want to dance with just anyone. he wanted to dance with you. he pouted at his thoughts, chewing broodingly on his mini-sandwich, because he knew you didn’t like dancing much. he didn’t want to seem selfish.

after 5 minutes of staring at you, looking zoned out, he decided to ask you to dance. he marched up to you meaningfully, and said, “y/n! dance with me!”

he meant it to come out tough, but it sounded more like a request. it worked, though, because you snapped out of your thoughts and hummed. “oh… sure, jisung.”

internally punching the air with joy, he took your hand, clapping at the dj to play a slow song. you put a hand on his shoulder, as he put his own on your waist, your other hand grasping his. slowly swaying to the music, you closed your eyes. you couldn’t have hoped for this in your dreams, but here you were, dancing with jisung with romantic music on.

“you know, i was nervous to ask you out on a date before.” he said suddenly, as though he had been in serious thought about it, “but.. do you maybe wanna go on a date?”

“yes, jisung, i’d LOVE it,” you replied, and you looked at him, his eyes sparkling. you two leaned in to kiss, your lips meeting in a soft touch. jisung smiled in the kiss, and you smiled back. you couldn’t have imagined this to happen at all. you felt like you could fly, you felt so light. his kiss felt like a pretty sunset, the rainbow that came just after the storm ended. it felt like that feeling you get when you go on rollercoasters, and you have that swooping feeling in your stomach. it reminded you of some of the most happiest memories you had, evoking sweet nostalgia in you. you reminded jisung of cotton candy. you were the wind to his sea. you were like the sun falling on his face, a blast of warmth from when the day began. he had the iconic shyness he rarely felt, making the moment a hundred times more remarkable.

finally breaking apart, you gripped his hands, your fingers twirling around his. “so.. when’s that date?” you asked him softly, and the rest of nct wolf-whistled around you. “well, i won’t take credit, but i KNEW this was going to happen!” ten said, and you rolled your eyes at him. you two were back to being friends, so that history was OVER, thankfully.

haechan smirked at you, throwing you a thumbs-up. you shook your head at him, smirking back. “how about tomorrow?” jisung asked you, and the sides of your lips turned up, “yes, jisung, i’ll look forward to it,” you said.

and that was how you got your happily ever after.

› › › › › › › › › › › › 🖇 ‹ ‹ ‹ ‹ ‹ ‹ ‹ ‹ ‹ ‹ ‹ ‹

THE END.

[mythicandco]

She isn’t sure why she says it.

Maybe out of pure curiosity - because it’s just the first name that pops into her head, for some reason.

But a name pierces the eerie quiet of the strange in-between dimension, a place that looks like a Demon Realm-style fun house on steroids. Dark liquid lapping against the wildly-twisting, greenish walls is the only sound here other than a human girl’s breathing.

“Philip Wittebane.”

The moment the name leaves her tongue Luz Noceda realizes she should probably check on her mother. Wasn’t that the whole point of this in the first place? But before she gets a chance to correct herself, a cube slowly floats out of the dark liquid around her, as though simply appearing for her is a difficult task. For a few moments it simply hovers there, it’s sides dripping black goo.

Then the side closest to her turns shiny and gold. Her heart rate increasing, the girl moves forward to take it - and then stops. What if it’s just his coffin, or something? Certainly Philip Wittebane would be long dead by now if he’d written his journal back in the 1600s.

But curiosity once again triumphs over doubt and Luz takes the cube in her hands. The worst that could happen is I see a skeleton, she thinks. Big deal. I’ve seen skeletons before.

Unlike the cube that showed her King, Eda, and Hooty, it takes a moment of her holding it for the thing to flash white and transfer her into a reflection. She finds herself holding her breath, and when the cube finally responds to her touch, the girl is caught off-guard and nearly drops it, severing the connection.

Luz is able to hold on, however, and she blinks as things come into focus around her. She is in the reflection of a glass picture frame. It’s holding up some painting of a black spider and a little red bird, she thinks, but her face is so close to the parchment she can’t tell for sure.

She turns her attention to the room around her, and chokes back a gasp at the most notable feature - a large, circular ring with white-and-gold wings splayed at its sides. It vaguely resembles Hunter’s staff, but that isn’t the most worrying part - it’s being constructed around the portal door, which was supposed to be destroyed. Worst of all, it looks nearly completed.

Luz covers her mouth and ducks to the bottom of the reflection as something moves in the dark - an old man with dirty blonde hair, dull blue eyes, and a dark green scar on his face. He’s wearing robes typical of the Emperor’s Coven, but she doesn’t recognize him-

Wait.

Is that Emperor Belos? Without his mask? Luz never thought she’d actually see him like this. He looks... like a sad old man. The girl frowns, but then the impact of what this means hits her full-force and her eyes widen in pure shock. She had said Philip’s name.

“NO,” she says aloud. “NO WAY.”

Belos stiffens and spins around, his eyes narrowing. They dart to his mask, which is laying next to a closed book a few feet away from him. “Who’s there?” he demands. “Spying on the emperor is an offense punishable by death.”

Luz drops the cube out of pure reflex, severing her connection to the castle. It begins to sink back into the goo, but she lets out a yelp and grabs it again.

“No, bad cube,” she scolds. “I still need your help.” Luz loosens her hold on it, but it doesn’t light up again. “Hey, come on, go back to the castle,” she says. “Please?”

The cube doesn’t respond. She shakes it. Still nothing. “Let me see Emperor Belos again! Come on, cube!” But the cube doesn’t listen. Luz grunts in frustration.

“You’re on a mission, Luz. Focus.” Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, the girl does just that.

“Show me Philip Wittebane.”

It still kind of shocks her that it works; but it does, and Luz finds herself in the reflection of the eye on the door. Staring straight at Emperor Belos.

Both sides let out identical exclamations of surprise, and for the fourth time in the past half an hour, Luz almost drops the godforsaken cube. She hisses “mierda” under her breath before she can stop herself, and is surprised to hear Belos use a profanity of his own that she easily recognizes as from the Human Realm.

The two stare at each other for a moment, and Luz takes another few moments to look at Belos’s face. He really does seem like a sad, old man, even more so up close. His blue eyes have no shine in them, and his hair is in desperate need of a good combing through. She can only see one of his ears, but it’s noticeably smaller than any other witches’ she’s seen so far and has a nick in it, and a disturbing thought occurs to her that she quickly pushes aside.

Heavy bags under his eyes - even more noticeable than the Golden Guard’s - are also present, but the most horrifying part of his face is the strange green scar. Luz doesn’t know what it’s from, but it doesn’t look like anything from the Human Realm.

“Surprised?” she asks, summoning up every ounce of strength that she can. Belos can’t hurt her where she is right now, she’s pretty sure. Even if he destroyed the reflection, it would be destroying the door, and she’s fairly certain that that would only sever the connection again, not actually kill her. He takes a step back with a grimace.

“The Owl Lady’s human pet,” the emperor practically snarls, and Luz flinches. “Guess it was only a matter of time before you tapped into this as well.”

Luz has no idea what he means, but she holds her ground. “Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier when your notes are helping me with it,” she replies. “You are Philip Wittebane, aren’t you?” Her voice trembles for some reason. Now is not the time to get excited about a potentially very dramatic backstory, she mentally tells herself.

Even if you really, really, really want to hear everything about it and take notes.

It’s Belos’ turn to wince, and he reaches for his mask. “You got ahold of my journal?” he asks in a voice that sounds more surprised than resentful.

“It was in the library for a reason,” Luz neglects to mention the paper dragon and the Forbidden Stacks and Amity-

No, Luz. Focus. “But, um, yes.”

A dry laugh escapes the emperor’s throat. “I assumed no one was going to let a human into the Forbidden Stacks.”

Luz blinks, the puzzle pieces in her mind still not quite fitting together. “But if you’re Philip Wittebane, then doesn’t that make you human, too?” She is pretty sure that was right, but with her brain still kind of frazzled by the fact that Philip and Belos were the same person, she might’ve forgotten how the laws of nature worked.

Belos chuckles again, this more sharp and harsh. Luz backs up, but with holding the cube in her hands she doesn’t get any further away from him. He puts the mask on and turns away. “I’m hardly human anymore.”

This is an interesting development. “Ooh, is this like from the Henry Pottery books? If you drink unicorn blood, you’re immortal, but also-”

“This is nothing like that.”

“Oh.” Luz frowns. “Could you tell me what it actually is, then?”

Belos whirls around, uncomfortably close to the door’s reflection. “No.”

Luz let’s out a yelp and the cube shatters in her hands. “Crap,” she says, trying to take the pieces and put them back together. Apparently he did get mad enough to break the door. With a deep inhale, the girl tries to steady herself.

Remember, Luz, she tells herself mentally. You’re on a mission to contact your mom. Worry about what just happened once you tell her what’s going on. She’s still freaking out a little, but the girl breathes a few times and promises herself she’ll look into the Philip-Belos mystery once this is over and taken care of. She opens her eyes again.

“Camila Noceda.”

[teasty]

irresistible || h.hj (m)

a/n: yess fuck boy hyunjin ftw ngl,,,,i’m so in love with that idea,, especially with his long hair (i actually got into skz cuz of hyunjin’s hair lol i love longish hair on men)

● pairing: hwang hyunjin x (fem) reader

● genre: angsty n smutty (mdi!) | crack lol | enemies to lovers!au | college!au | nonidol!au

● warnings: hyunjin and reader hate each other at first :( | fighting | profanity | name calling | suggestive dialogue | fuckboy!hyunjin | snarky/goodgirl!reader | unprotected sex | hair pulling | cunnilingus | degradation + hints of praise | hyunjin is just an insecure baby underneath a tough guy exterior ;-; | virgin!reader | hyunjin keeps switching between fuck boy and sad boy |

● requested? yes!

● words: 9k

● summary: You despise Hwang Hyunjin with a passion. And he just hates you right back. You’re a good, moral student while he fucks around with everybody. He likes to pull at heartstrings while you like to pull at his palm tree hairdo. There’s nothing that makes you like the other, but when you wind up at the old art room with him and things get heated up, you see a softer, truer and more broken side to him.

Is falling in love with someone you've hated for years in the span of one night even possible? Apparently so...

i miss him so much don't @ me

“You’re too irresistible not to fuck until you're screaming my name and begging for more.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Hyunjin, or I’ll tear your stupid hair out of your head,” you threaten darkly. The ever so proud Hyunjin only scoffs, laughing mockingly at you as he shoves his hands into his pockets. He crouched down to be at eye level with you. Despite you being much smaller than him, you still stood your group, even tripped over on the floor, your once organized papers sprawled out on the floor.

“I’d like to see you try, princess,” Hyunjin’s brow raises, and your lips downturn into even more of a frown. You would never, ever dare to start a physical fight with Hyunjin, but boy you can talk. Sometimes, your mouth might even be a little bit too big for your own liking. The words just flow out so naturally, and you don’t even realize it to actually stop it from flowing off of your tongue.

It was your dumb mouth that started this whole mess, anyways. Back in the last few years of high school, your best friend (who, in the end, turned out to be the fakest bitch you’ve ever met) had gotten with a boy. A boy you had no clue even went to the school. And, that’s when you met Hwang Hyunjin at lunch that day. In all his short - haired glory. At first, he seemed pretty decent, but you knew something was off about him from the start. Sure, he had a bright smile that could make any girl with a brain filled with boys faint, but he just didn’t sit too right with you. The way he acted around your friend (at the time) and the way he’d talk to her and other girls.

At first, you didn’t think he was a fuckboy, but it was when he tried to get in your pants after you called him a fuckboy after school one day when it hit you. That was the first and only day you really punched him in the face. Giving him a black and blue bruise on his cheekbone from the impact when he tried to take your clothes off, not caring whether or not you said it was alright or not. Of course, he got mad at you, but didn’t lay a hand on you, like you thought he would. You remember bracing your body for some sort of punch, kick or push, but nothing came other than Hyunjin’s loud voice screaming curses at you and calling you all - too vulgar and hurtful names.

You would have apologized if you weren’t so upset with the fact that he tried to be your first fuck. Your virginity isn’t the most precious thing to you, but you promised yourself you wouldn’t allow yourself to lose it to Hwang Hyunjin. Especially not after that day he actually tried to fuck you behind the school. You went running to your friend afterwards. Who, to your surprise, got mad at you for trying to make her boyfriend cheat on her with you. You couldn’t believe her, and you dropped her right there.

It was actually Hyunjin who broke up with her, having her come running to you with tears in her eyes about how upset she is that Hyunjin broke up with her. Of course, you didn’t react and only ignored her for… the rest of her life so far. She eventually gave up on trying to be friends with you, and went her own direction. However, Hyunjin didn’t leave you alone.

You can swear that he’s vowed to make your life living hell after you rejected him with your fist. At first, it was just teasing. Calling you names. Making fun of stupid mistakes. Sometimes even flirting with you just to make you mad. And no matter how many times you seemed to reject, verbally or physically, he never gave. Maybe he doesn’t try to get in your pants anymore, but he won’t stop calling you stupid nicknames when he’s being a dick to you… like “princess, baby, babygirl, darling, honey, sweetheart.” Stupid, meaningless nicknames to call you just to pull at both your heartstrings and your thin line of patience.

You weren’t so friendly to call him bittersweet names like that. You decided to go with a more aggressive route of, “dickhead, motherfucker, bitch, asshole, asshat, shithead” and other conjugations of any curse word you could think of. Of course, none of it fazed him one bit. In fact, it all seemed to amuse him. Like your anger was his entertainment, and that idea pissed you off.

You’ve had friends tell you to “Just not give him the attention since that’s what he wants!” But, that was the most difficult thing to do when Hyunjin was always following behind you, yet always a step ahead. Everywhere you end up, he’s somehow ironically there, too. Everywhere you plan to go, he’s somehow, ironically, planning to go there, too. Sometimes you debate if he’s stalking, but you don’t have much social media (nor do you post anything if you did) and you made sure to always keep away from the name Hyunjin just in case it’s the Hyunjin.

But, now, you’re sitting on your ass like an idiot, papers flown around you as Hyunjin crouches down in front of you. Almost as if peering down at his prey. His judgemental eyes scan your trembling figure, shaking from the pent up anger, up and down as he smirks like the little devil he is.

You’d been running back to your classroom, having to collect papers for your professor from the teacher’s lounge. She specifically asked for them to be organized by date, and you spent a few well - focused and frustrating minutes organizing the papers. Of course, as you were running through the supposedly empty hall, looking down at your phone to check the time to make sure you’ll have enough time before the end of the class period, you slammed face first into Hyunjin’s chest. Knocking him off of his balance, but catching himself on the wall, and sending you flying back and the papers to fly out of your arms, all your hard work scattered around you as you glare up at him with a deadly look in your eyes.

“Oh…” Hyunjin smiles down at you, leaning against the wall. His brows creasing up in a fake worry, his bottom lip jutting out in a mocking pout, staining his handsome face with the pathetic expression, “Poor baby… Do you need help picking up your papers?” He asks in a high pitched voice, and you try to hold back the urge to kick him right in the balls.

“Don’t fuck with me, Hyunjin,” you growl out darkly, and Hyunjin’s eyes widen and his fake, bitter smile widens in a pathetic imitation of shock and hurt, “Or I’ll tear your stupid hair out of your head.” You shamelessly threaten, both of you knowing you’re probably not going to even try to rip Hyunjin’s gorgeous hair for his scalp.

Hyunjin gets up off of the wall and walks over to you, you sitting on your ass with a glare that could spew daggers, and he crouches in front of you. His elbows on his knees, and he peers down at you like a predator stalking over its prey, ready to pounce at any second. He scans you, his half lidded, judgemental eyes peering over your body, heavily hidden by your black leggings and dark blue hoodie that was two sizes too big.

“I’d like to see you try, princess,” Hyunjin cocks a brow at you, his eyes finally landing on your dark ones.

“Don’t call me that, dickhead,” you spit right back, but he only chuckles darkly, his head falling briefly before he lifts his head up again. Shaking it slightly as he critically smiles at you, his mocking laugh making you feel small and weak.

“That’s a no - can - do. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, alright? Princess?” Hyunjin’s face dips down, nearing yours. You do the first thing you think of, grabbing a handful of papers, wrinkling them and throwing them with full force at Hyunjin’s face. He flinches back and stands up, swatting away the papers quickly. “Fucking hell! You scared me for a second there.”

“Good, now piss off. I have places to be. And shouldn’t you be in class?” You grumble as you collect the papers, trying your best to get them as organized as possible in your arms, making sure to keep a tight grip on them in case Hyunjin tried to do anything.

“Aw, do you suddenly care for me?” He places a hand over his chest, sighing dramatically, “I’m touched.”

“In your dreams, dipshit. Leave me alone,” you snap out, already getting a headache from this as you walk around on your knees to try and collect the papers, cursing to yourself when you find a wrinkled one, trying to smooth it out. Hyunjin watches you with a stoic expression, leaning against the wall. You don’t even bother saying another thing to him before you gather up the last of the papers and dash away, trying to organize the papers best you could before you reach your class.

Thankfully, Hyunjin didn’t follow you like he usually did. You let out a breath of air you didn’t know you were holding as you neared the classroom, your hands moving quickly to organise the papers. You open the door, somewhat out of breath as you hand them to the professor. Letting her know that you dropped them on your way here and they got a bit disorganized, but you tried your best to organize them again. She dismissed you and thanked you, sending you back to your seat to pack up (since it’s the end of the class, which is why you were hurrying).

Thankfully, your last class period is a study hall, so you take this time to run down to the library to work on assignments that are due soon. You prefer the library since it’s a calm and quiet place, and you know the librarian quite well, since you’re usually there during study hall. If you’re not there, you’re somewhere with a friend, and that’s usually not in the comfort of the library since you get pretty loud and unfiltered when you’re with friends. So, in the end, you’ll get booted out by the librarian.

When you get there, there’s already quite a few students sitting around, listening to music and typing vigorously on their laptops. You bow briefly to the librarian, who gives you a warm smile before you take a seat at a table in the corner of the library, far from the others. You take out your laptop and phone, plugging your earbuds into the earphone jack in your phone to play music into your ears.

You spend a good fifteen minutes writing an essay for your English Literature class. Focused in on the task at hand while soft lofi flows into your ears, letting your mind relax, but focus on what you’re doing.

So, it’s totally normal that you let out a short scream when your earbuds are painfully ripped out of your ears, your hands flying up to cup your ears. People glare at you, but turn back when they see who’s looming over your desk. Your earbuds and phone in his hand, and you could faintly hear the sound of the lofi that once calmed your mind. He stood there with a proud smile, and he raised a finger to his lips.

“Shh… quiet in the library,” Hyunjin says just above a whisper, and your lip twitches from holding back from strangling him in front of everyone. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? He’s always made a note to let you know how annoying you can be or how much he hates you, so why doesn’t he just leave you alone? He knows how much he upsets you, but it seems to make him happy. He already wears a stupid smile all the time. You’ve seen him upset before, plenty of times. But when he’s teasing you or doing things to make you miserable, he wears that same devilish smirk.

“I… Fuck you, Hwang Hyunjin. Give me my phone back.” You stand up, reaching for the phone, but his hand yanks back away from you. Giving you a sarcastic smile as he looks down at you.

“Beg for it,” Hyunjin giggles darkly. Looking at something on your phone and even pressing a few buttons. Your eyes widen.

“Fuck no, just give it back!” You whisper - yell, reaching for it again, leaning over the table to grab for it.

Hyunjin shakes his head, “I said to beg for it…~” he sings - songs in a hushed tone, and your hands tense, his neck lookingly plenty good to just strangle. You don’t say anything, and you fold your arms over your chest. Raising a brow at you. “You think that’s gonna change my mind, hon? I still want you to beg for it.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn, it’s annoying,” you grumble, and shut your laptop close and push it into your backpack. You start walking out, shoving past Hyunjin and fighting against frustrated tears. You don’t even bother to bow to the librarian as you walk out, on fist gripping the sleeve of your backpack and the other clenched tightly at your side.

You walk out of the library, into the court of the university. There’s not many people there, since it’s the last class period of the day and everyone was getting ready to go home for the weekend. You stood underneath a tree, and turned, cocking a brow at Hyunjin who followed behind you slowly. You frown at him, and his brow raises.

“So? You’re gonna get ‘em or no? You know I’m not giving them if you just frown at me, (Y/N),” Hyunjin smiles snarkily, and you visibly roll your eyes at him. You sigh softly.

“Hyunjin. Give them to me. I’m being serious, now, no fuckin’ around,” You hold your hand out, finally speaking in a normal, harsh tone now that you’re out of the library.

“Hm… Nah. You still have to beg for it like a bitch. Or else they’re mine,” Hyunjin gives you a pitifully fake smile, and your eyes close, trying to ease the rising rage inside you.

“Hyunjin. I’m not begging for it,” You take a step closer to him, but he doesn’t back down. Your headphones still clutch in his hand as he holds them away from you. When Hyunjin doesn’t respond, you finally act. Dropping your backpack and letting it slip off your shoulder and onto the grass, propping itself against the tree. Hyunjin’s smile finally drops when you grip his wrist, pulling it towards you harshly. But, on instinct, Hyunjin pulls himself away, pulling you towards him.

So, you push him down onto the grass, not caring for onlookers as you straddle Hyunjin’s waist before he could even try getting up. One of your hands reaches up to press against his chest, but Hyunjin doesn’t struggle. Not one bit. In fact, he doesn’t even smirk anymore. He’s just staring at you as you reach for his hand.

“(Y/N),” Hyunjin’s dark voice pipes up, and you shoot him a glare.

“Shut up,” you snap, and you pry open his fingers, which was much easier than you though. His hands are hot and sweaty, and you almost laugh at it. Is he nervous that you’re straddling him let alone touching him in the first place? You will admit, it’s an intimate position, but you only got on top of him like that to prevent him from moving so you could grab your earbuds and phone out of his hands and stuff them into your pocket.

You smirk down at him, your hair falling past your face. It feels good to be the one in control, and now that Hyunjin’s vulnerable, you utter out, “And you almost got me to beg. Boohoo. Better luck next time, dipshit.” You finally get off of him, and the moment you’re off of him, he gets up and dusts himself off.

“(Y/N),” He calls out your name as he watches you grab your backpack.

“Shut up and don’t talk to me,” You snap, and Hyunjin’s lip clamp shut. He looks conflicted, and you would feel bad if it weren’t Hyunjin. The same Hwang Hyunjin who’s decided to make your every day a living headache.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch me like that again,” Hyunjin’s hand snatches your wrist, but you pull yourself away swiftly, “If you do that ever, and I mean ever again, I will not hesitate to stuff your face in the dirt.” Hyunjin gets dangerously close to you, and you back away. You’re brows creasing. Sure, Hyunjin is a huge dick to you, but he’s not this much of a dick. So, it took you by surprise, but you felt proud. It’s obvious that forcing Hyunjin into such a vulnerable position both mentally and physically set him off, and you were proud of yourself for that. He’s always been the one trapping you, making you feel small and tugging at your strings of patience, and sometimes your heartstrings, too.

“Oh, fuck off, Hyunjin.” You groan out, your hands falling to your side as you sling your backpack over your shoulder, “You do that shit to me all the time. What’s it if I do it to you?”

“Just don’t do it a - fuckin’ - gain, (Y/N). Don’t, unless you don’t wanna walk straight the next day.” Hyunjin threatens, and your brows furrow.

“And what the fuck does that mean?” You scoff as Hyunjin shakes his head, turning to walk away. “Hyunjin!” You yell after him, but he thrusts up his hand, his slim middle finger in your direction. You scoff, surprised by such behavior from a guy like him, who’s usually the one doing the teasing instead of the flipping off.

You try your best to ignore him and head back to the dorm to your shared one with your friend. You were able to settle down for a bit, especially since your roommate wasn’t there yet. You finished up your work. Working on assignments that you couldn’t get to finish because of a certain someone who decided to snag your phone.

Speaking of your phone, about two hours after you get back to the dorm, your friend comes walking in.

“Hey Yeona,” You pipe up, acknowledging her presence as she peels off her flats from her feet. Yeona waves briefly before plopping on her bed.

“Hey (Y/N). How was it going today?”

“Terrible.” You admit, Hyunjin being the only thing coursing through your head.

“Terrible? Lemme guess,” Yeona sits up, glaring at you, “it’s that one Hwang guy you keep ranting about?” You nod slowly, “Ah. Well, sorry about that. Actually, that reminds me. Someone was asking for you. A boy… A really, really cute boy.”

“Oh? Who?” Your brow raises.

Yeona shrugs, “No clue. Couldn’t catch his name; he seemed like he was in a rush. He wants you to meet him in the old art room. The one they use for storage, you know? He said to take your time, but he seemed desperate as hell.”

“The old art room? Don’t people go there to fuck because the camera’s are busted at the school’s too lazy to replace ‘em?” your brow raises, a bitter smile etching your lip.

“That’s the one. Hey, you might get some dick tonight. At least he’s cute,” she wiggles her brows, and you laugh. “Go one. Call me if anything happens.”

“Yes, ma’am,” You jokingly salute, and Yeona does it right back. You stuff your phone in your back pocket, and give her a playful smile before you leave.

The old art room is at the very core of the school, and you know exactly where it is. Everybody does. It’s not exactly something that just goes unnoticed by the students. Since it’s old, the camera’s are very much out of date and therefore can’t hook up to the ‘new and improved’ security system. Usually people snuck there to fuck during passing hall, since no teacher went in there. Only special people on special occasions use it for storage.

You were somewhat excited. You still have your v - card, whether you like it or not. You originally planned to save it for someone special. But, at this point, you’re too stressed to care about who’s taking your virginity and who’s not. At this point, you’d get on your knees for anyone willing.

Except for Hwang Hyunjin. Of fucking course. You know so many people who would literally beg to be fucked by none other than Hwang Hyunjin. You were not one of those people. You weren’t one of Hyunjin’s toys, even though he treated you like one. You would never let him get to your head, though. You know that you shouldn’t listen to Hyunjin even if your life depended on it. He might mean those things, those vulgar things he says to you, but you choose not to believe them.

You were trembling by the time we were standing in front of the old art room. The rusty door is slightly ajar, signifying that someone’s inside. Of course there is, but it’s still weird that they didn’t shut the door in case any teacher got concerned and checked in. Whoever’s inside must be stupid, but you’re not one to ghost someone like that, especially if Yeona said that they seemed desperate. Someone desperate for you? You had no clue who. No one ever stared at you in class. No one ever teased you. Tried to constantly get your attention.

Actually, that’s a lie. That’s a bitter lie.

Hwang Hyunjin fit into every aspect of someone who’d be desperate for your attention. That’s when it hit you that Hyunjin’s only trying to gain your attention in the worst way.

And, he did. Because he’s standing right in front of you.

You turned to leave, but Hyunjin’s hand slammed against the closed door, making you flinch at the close proximity between the two of you, and you turned to look at Hyunjin. He’s not smiling like he usually is when he first sees you. In fact, you can’t tell what expression laces his godly face.

“Hyunjin? Was it you that told my friend to bring me here?” You ask, not so much a harsh tone, but trying to make things clear despite the answer being (literally) right in front of your face. There’s no one else in the old art room but empty boxes, old art tables and storage boxes littered here and there. “This isn’t funny, Hyunjin. I’m leaving.” You turn back around to grip the doorknob, but Hyunjin’s warm, shaking hand grips your wrist firmly, yet oddly gently.

“Don’t,” he utters out. His voice was strangely small. Nimble, even. Weak. “Don’t go. I need to talk to you.”

“Since when do you wanna talk to me?” You snap, and Hyunjin dodges your intense glare. His confidence seeps to be depleting by the minute.

“I just need to. I need to get things figured out,” Hyunjin grumbles out, letting go of your wrist. He steps away from you and sits on one of the old art tables, manspreading, stretching the tight fabric of his jeans.

“Get what figured out? Tell me,” you demand, now stepping away from the door and sitting across from Hyunjin on another table. Before Hyunjin could speak, though, you raise a hand, a thought coming to mind, “Wait, no. Why did you not just come to my dorm like a normal person? Why the art room? Do you know how many people have fucked in here, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, sighing softly, “Yes, I do. It’s just the only place we could truly be alone.”

“Wait… you’re not gonna do what I think you're gonna do, right?” You back up, reaching for your phone.

Hyunjin shakes his head, “No, I’m not. I’m not a stupid sixteen year old anymore, (Y/N). And neither are you.” You sigh, relaxing, “I’m just going to get straight to the point. I can’t take this anymore, (Y/N). I’m so lost without you.”

Your eyes snap up to meet his, looking for any sign of mischief or joke in his eyes. But, no. Instead, they’re genuine. Your brows furrow, confusion crashing over you.

“I don’t want to live with the thought that I make every day for you living hell,” Hyunjin looks away, ashamed.

“Then why do you taunt me in the first place?” You nearly yell, and Hyunjin’s eyes flicker closed. You get off of the table, standing in front of him, “Why do you work so hard to just get me pissed off for the rest of the day, huh? Why do you want my attention so bad? Why can’t you just leave me alone, then, if you don’t want to make my college life a living hell, huh?”

“Because I’m in love with you.”

So blunt. So stoic. So true.

You’re silenced by his words, shock overcoming you. Overwhelmingly dominating your anger as your eyes widen slowly. He doesn’t break eye contact, this time. He doesn’t bother looking away. He’s standing his ground. He’s telling the truth.

You shake your head, “No your not.”

“You don’t decide that,” Hyunjin says almost directly after your voice drifts off.

“You can’t be in love with me, Hyunjin. You can’t,” You shake your head, backing away.

“It’s not my fault!” Hyunjin finally raises his voice, getting off of the table and taking an intimidating step towards you. Making you falter and scramble back, your lower back hitting the old art table. “I can’t help it. I can’t help, (Y/N). I’ve tried everything. I’ve been with so many girls, even guys. Trying to get out of my mind but nothing, nothing works. It’s always been you. Ever since high school.”

“Even when you were dating her…?”

“Even when I was dating her. The only reason I dated your fucking friend was to try and get close to you,” Hyunjin admits, and your mouth falls open. You lost a friend just because he wanted to get close to you? Your anger was slowly gaining back it’s superiority over your shock, “I tried to talk to you, but every time I did it just came out as mean. You viewed me as a fuckboy, and I fulfilled that role. Only to try and get you out of my fucking head.” He spits out through gritted teeth. “I’ve tried to make myself hate you, despise you. And, don’t get me wrong, hon, a small part of me hates you’re short, annoying ass. But everything else is incomplete without you.”

“Why didn’t you just confront me? If you didn’t decide to date my friend then we wouldn’t be here right now!” You yell, pressing a finger to his chest.

“I was sixteen, (Y/N)! Sixteen. Everything that I did ended in my misfortune,” Hyunjin yells right back.

“And was that my fault? Huh?”

“Yes! It is! Yes, it fuckin’ is!”

“How in the fuck is it ever my fault with you?!” You shove him away.

“Because it was. All. For. You. Get that through your thick fucking skull!” Hyunjin yells so loudly, so aggressively that it brought you to tears. But, you didn’t show any sign of fear. You weren’t backing down from this.

After his yelling, things quieted. You’re too nervous to talk, afraid your voice would pathetically crack from the painful lump growing in your throat. Hyunjin stared at you, as if waiting for you to say something, anything. But, you couldn’t utter a word. Only a few pathetic tears slipping from your eyes. His brows crease up when he watches the quick, warm tears fall over your cheek and down your neck. His bottom lip becomes trapped between his teeth, and he looks down for a bit.

You’re tired of the silence. You simply can’t take it anymore. It’s driving you mad how tense and uncomfortable the silence between you and Hyunjin is.

“Hyunjin, I-“

You’re not able to finish before a pair of soft lips press themselves to yours. Your mind goes blank, and your body stiffens as you stare into Hyunjin’s closed eyes. Your hands gripping the table behind you for balance as Hyunjin’s trembling hands creep up to grip your face. He’s kissing you.

Hwang fucking Hyunjin is kissing you.

That’s a first.

You want to push him away, but no matter how much you tell yourself to, you only relax more and more. The feeling of his lips against yours was supposed to repulse you, give you the push you need to slam a fist into Hyunjin’s face. But, with how delicately he kisses you and how his gentle, trembling fingers caress your warm cheeks, you can’t bear even clenching your fist in the need to hurt him or to get him away from you.

You couldn’t bear to admit it, but you were slowly melting into the kiss. It was as though Hyunjin was casting some sort of spell on you. Your eyes relax. Going from a dim half - lidded until they flutter shut. Your hands let go of the table. You’re shaking, ever so slightly. Your hands guide themselves as they bring themselves up to press against Hyunjin’s collarbone. At first, you believe you’re trying to push him away. But, your own hands deceive you when they slowly trail up to run your hands through his long grown hair.

You finally let your lips move, and you finally kiss him back.

Hyunjin’s reaction to it is one to die for. His back stiffens when he feels your lips part and move with his. One of his hands moves to caress your jaw, his thumb running across the bone, his hands a bit more firm as the kiss gets passionate.

You want to hate yourself for kissing him back. For succumbing to him and letting yourself fall weak underneath him. But, you just couldn’t help yourself. Hyunjin’s lips pulled you in and didn’t seem to plan on letting you go anytime soon.

It seems like a flash when your tongue presses flush against Hyunjin’s. The feelings send your back stiff and you tightly grip his hair, as if you were going to break apart from the feeling. Hyunjin’s experienced lips guided your inexperienced ones, despite him obviously being nervous.

You try to breath through your nose like Hyunjin does when things start getting more and more intense, and Hyunjin’s hands slowly start to creep away from your face. Tongues clash, and instead of fighting for dominance over one another, you both move in sync. Your torso pressed against his as Hyunjin traps you in between him and the table.

One of Hyunjin’s hands falls down your arm, gently caressing your side before picking up your thigh to push you to sit on the table. He pushes you back.

“Hyunjin - ah… We can’t…” You mumble out breathily as he kisses the sides of your lips. His lips instantly connect back with yours.

“And here… I thought… you were standing so strong and proud,” Hyunjin chuckles darkly, whispering out the words in between wet kisses. His usual self coming back, and your brows furrow. “But… no. You’re letting me… do this… without fight.”

Your head cranes back as Hyunjin’s lips drag down to your neck. Licking wet strips up and down your neck, suckling on the sensitive skin and pressing wet, sloppy kisses to your skin. You bite back a moan.

“You said you wouldn’t do anything…” You whimper out, and Hyunjin chuckles against your neck.

“Maybe, but you’ve passed the point of no return when you kissed back. And here I thought you’d punch me in the face,” Hyunjin laughs against your skin, moving you so your legs are spread for him to press more and more against you.

“Maybe I should’ve,” you whisper out in one breath.

“Mmh, but you know you like it, baby,” Hyunjin smirks.

“What happened to you wanting to talk?” You breath out, your breath moans getting louder, and you bite your lip to hold your voice back.

“You ruined it,” Hyunjin grumbles, nibbling on your skin briefly.

“Fuck you…” you grumble, your arms wrapping around his neck unconsciously.

“Already, hmm? Impatient, are we?”

“Fuck off…!” You groan at his dumb joke, and Hyunjin laughs against you. “But… seriously, Hyunjin… Wait… I’m still a virgin.”

Hyunjin’s head snaps up, his brows furrowed. “You’re a what, again?”

“A virgin, dumbass.”

“Are you saying you want to have sex-..”

“Hyunjin! Don’t take this so lightly. I’ve never done it with anyone before, and I definitely wasn’t planning on someone like you being my first,” you admit, and Hyunjin cocks a brow at you.

“You’ll regret those words. I’ll make sure this is a night for you to remember,” Hyunjin snaps, his words dark, and you swallow. “But, I need you to let me know that you want me, too.”

“Goddamn it, Hyunjin,” you groan, and your hand grips a lock of his hair, pulling his back so he can look clearly at you, “I want you to fuck me, Hyun - ah…”

A smirk creeps up on his lips, and you watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows his spit, and you let go of his hair, and his head dives back into your neck. Not exactly going back to kissing you, but resting his lips there. He mumbles out, “I never thought I’d hear those words come out of your pretty mouth.” And neither did you. You tried to deny it, telling yourself that it’s a spur of the moment idea. But, right now, again, you can’t push Hyunjin away. Your body won't let you.

Fuck it, your mind screams, and you let your legs wrap around Hyunjin’s waist. His hands find themselves caressing your thighs, your waist and back as his lips start moving again over your neck. The sensation sending constant chills up and down your spine, causing your back to stiffen and arch at the new feeling erupting in your core. You’ve masturbated before, that’s not the issue. But, being in the control of somebody gave you a whole new stimulation with even having to be touched too much. A new spark of intensity.

Hyunjin’s hands are rough, yet cautious. Trying not to go too far, but obviously trying not to pull away himself.

He eventually pushed your shoulders lightly, but with enough force to push your back flat against the old art table. He’s still standing, but he’s leaning over you, his hands on either side of your head and his pelvis nearly pressed against yours, standing in between your legs.

His warm hands move slowly underneath your shirt. Your back lifts at the feeling of his hands meeting your untouched skin, and you let out a hoarse breath as Hyunjin sucks on the skin below your jaw. Your head tilting to the side to give him the access he needed. Your neck craning, and your eyes flutter shut from the bliss. Your lips parting in a silent moan. Too embarrassed to actually make too much noise. Hyunjin’s hands move up the sides of your bare waist, carrying your shirt and hoodie with it. He parts from your neck to look up at you, his hands coming to a sudden halt.

You only glare over to him before you take your shirt and hoodie yourself, peeling it quickly off and over your head and tossing them to the side, trying to make it onto another table, but it landed on the floor. You could care less. Hyunjin’s eyes immediately dart down to stare at your semi - exposed torso. You bite your bottom as Hyunjin’s hand eases up, poking at the wire of your cherry pink bra. “Pink? Cute.”

“Shut up,” you mumble out, and Hyunjin’s eyes flicker up to meet yours.

“Hmm, that’s not gonna happen and you know that.” Hyunjin winks at you, and you roll your eyes before your head falls back again. Hyunjin’s wet lips come back to your neck, but this time, he starts pressing slow, wet kisses down your neck. Over your collarbone and chest before over the bump of your breasts. You watch him with nervous eyes as Hyunjin presses wet kisses over the skin of your breasts. The feeling of the sensitive, untouched skin being no longer untouched is euphoric. However, he doesn’t take off your bra, most likely since you’re in the old art room and being completely nude would be a bit too overbearing and overwhelming for both of your likings.

You thought Hyunjin was going to stop there, but no. He kept on kissing down, now going over your stomach. Your heartbeat got louder and louder as he kept going down. His warm mouth pressing warm kisses to you before moving down, the area before being shadowed by the cold air.

Your breath got caught in your throat when Hyunjin’s fingers loop around the loose hem of your jeans. His eyes darting up to look at you briefly. But, this time, he doesn’t wait for you to take them off. One finger undoes the first button before he swiftly moves out of the way to pull them down. Your legs try to clamp shut, but Hyunjin’s knee jerks up, stopping them from closing. Your panties don’t match your bra, since they’re black and not as fancy. However, Hyunjin doesn’t seem to care at all.

Your pink face watches as Hyunjin tosses your jeans to the side, with the rest of your clothes.

“Hyunjin - ah…” You utter out, and Hyunjin’s eyes flicker up to meet yours, one brow raising in question.

“I’m going to eat you out,” Hyunjin gives you a sarcastic smile, and you don’t have the willpower to roll your eyes. Your pussy is already sopping wet, and you hold back the urge to throw yourself on top of him. You’re not surprised by how blunt he is, but it’s still nerve wracking for you. “Don’t be scared. You’ll be perfectly fine.” He reassures, and you know you’re fine. That you’re safe, but, as said before, you were so nervous.

You watch as Hyunjin dips between your legs, getting on his knees on the floor, perfectly level with you. He looks from your wet panties to you for a moment before he presses a firm kiss to your clothed cunt. Your hips jut up from the sensitivity of it, your legs trying to clamp shut, but Hyunjin’s hand is quicker. His hand flush against your thigh. He smirks against you, pressing another feather light kiss to your clothes pussy once more before he licks up it, firmly pressing his tongue against you, sending your hand to your mouth to hide your choked moans.

However, Hyunjin’s hand flies up to pull your arm down, grumbling out, “Don’t be fucking quiet this time, (Y/N).”

“We’re in a fucking classroom, Hyunjin, I have to be!” You let out a throaty groan as Hyunjin licks another long, slow strip over your panties.

“All the teachers are gone. God, relax,” Hyunjin laughs bitterly, and you shoot him a confused look.

“You planned this didn’t you?” You snarl, propping yourself, and Hyunjin cocks a brow, his long fingers hooking around the hem of your pantines. You tried to close your legs, but they’re blocked by Hyunjin’s hands. Hyunjin only shoots you glare before pulling down your panties, and you gasp when your sopping pussy meets the cold air of the old art room.

“Ha,” Hyunjin scoffs, one of his fingers moving up to grace itself over the smooth, all too stimulative and sensitive skin around you, making your hips jutter, “No matter how mad you try to make yourself, you’re still dripping wet like a bitch in heat. Didn’t know I turned you on so much, sweetheart.”

“I’ll kill you,” you snap, but your hand goes to grip the edge of the table.

“You’ll love me after this,” Hyunjin winks at you again.

“I doubt it,” you backfire, and Hyunjin’s brow raises. A challenging smile on his face as his lips near your throbbing womanhood. So close, you could feel his breath fanning you. Hyunjin holds eye contact with you as his lips make contact with your warm, wet cunt. Your head falls back when you feel Hyunjin’s tongue against your clit. You let out a breathy moan and your hand flies down to tug at Hyunjin’s hair.

Hyunjin doesn’t go slow. He’s already teasing your hole with his middle finger as he licks and suckes around your pussy. His lips and tongue working wonders no toy you’ve ever owned ever could. The explicit sounds he makes turn you on even more, his eyes fluttering shut to focus on his mouth’s movement more than your face, which is tilted back. Your back arches from the pleasure, and you let out delicate moans as Hyunjin’s lips satisfy your throbbing pussy, giving it the attention it’s been craving.

Hyunjin slowly eases one finger into you, and your hips buck onto it. Hyunjin chuckles against you at your movement and raises a hand to press against your gut, pushing you down and holding you there as he lapped up your flowing juices while his finger inserts inside you. His knuckles soon flush against you, slowly twisting his hand inside you as you push yourself against him. Chills running through your body as Hyunjin’s tongue presses against your sensitive clit.

“Oh, god, Hyunjin…!” You moan out when he presses another finger into you. Your eyes squeezing shut as your trembling hands grip Hyunjin’s hair, your legs resting over his shoulders as he begins to thrust his fingers into you at a decently fast pace. His long fingers penetrate your tight, virgin hole. Pumping them in and out quickly, and you clench around him.

Your hands that grip Hyunjin’s hair pulls him further towards you, trying to get more and more of his tongue on you. Your hips grinding down on his fingers as your mind fogs from the pleasure. Now, you don’t care that it’s Hwang Hyunjin, you’re just loving the pleasure he’s providing you. You neck cranes, almost as if trying to pull away from how sensitive you were and how Hyunjin was abusing that.

However, when he enters a third finger, stretching you out, you feel your orgasm nearing. You clench around his fingers, your moans getting louder. Now, the thought of a teacher overhearing your explicit moans clearing from your head, your mind relaxing on the thought. All you can think of is how high you’re getting from the pleasure.

“Hyunjin… Hyunjin, I’m gonna cum soon… Hyunjin - ah, mmh,” one hand reaching up, the back of your hand pressing against your lips. Hyunjin doesn’t slow down. His hands move faster, and his mouth sucks at your clit. Your back begins to arch, your climax dangerously close.

But, it doesn’t come.

Hyunjin’s hands pull out of your pussy and he stands up when your back twitches, about to throw itself up when your climax hits. You look at Hyunjin with wide, glossy eyes. Sweat dripping down your forehead. Your legs twitch from the lost orgasm.

“What the fuck, Hyunjin?” You snap, and Hyunjin wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, giving you a raised brow and a smirk.

“You don’t get to cum, yet,” Hyunjin climbs over you again, trapping you down underneath his arms as he pushes himself in between your legs, and you could feel how hard he was just by a small brush of his bulge against your thigh. “Now, be good for me and take my cock like a good slut.” Your back stiffens from the vulgar slur, but it only makes your oversensitive pussy even wetter.

Hyunjin is quick when he lets his pants drop down with his boxers, and his dick springs free. His achingly red cock pressing against his stomach. As you look from his cock to his eyes, you feel waves of fear spring over you. However, Hyunjin’s soft touch on your face calms your nerves. His other hand pumps his member a few times before the tip it teases against your folds.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn wet,” Hyunjin groans, and you don’t answer, watching as Hyunjin slowly pushes himself into you, raw. Your head falls from the feeling, and Hyunjin’s mouth falls open, letting out a breathy groan as he eased himself into you. Your throbbing womanhood getting used to such a feeling. Once his pelvis bone is pressed against your ass, he stays there like that for a moment, and you get used to his size.

After a few moments of the sounds of both of your loud breaths, Hyunjin’s face nears yours, and your eyes flicker open to stare into his dark eyes. “I’m gonna start movin’, (Y/N),” he warns, and you nod.

“Please…” You grumble, and Hyunjin’s lip rises in a smirk.

“Please?”

“Move… Fuck me hard, Hyunjinnie. I can’t take it anymore. It’s about time you stopped fucking teasing me, huh?” You growl out, irritated.

Hyunjin’s smirk drops to a frown, and his hand grips your cheeks harshly, “Watch your tone with me, (Y/N). You can be so fucking proud, and that’s one of the reasons I wanna hate you. But, you’re too irresistable not to fuck until you’re screaming my name and begging for more.” And, after that, he ever so slowly pulls out of you before ramming himself back into you. So harshly and aggressively, it moves the whole table enough to where it creaks on it’s old legs. You let out a loud, inevitable moan that forces its way out of your lips.

Hyunjin does that a few times, and he throws his head back because of the pleasure. His face drowned in lust, and you clung to the table. A new burning sensation in your core as Hyunjin’s dick rams into your pure walls, deriving them from their innocence. You’re heat clenches around him as he pulls himself in and out of you. Slowly driving himself out before ramming into you.

But, he doesn’t do that for long when he starts to find a fast rhythm. One hand gripping your thigh while the other holds himself up on the table. He’ll sometimes let out breathy grunts or groans, but you’re on the verge of screaming out from how fast he was going. His cock burning your walls, sending a new sensation through you. It’s painful, but you’re loving it so much. You’re loving the burn, the penetration, everything.

Your eyes are closed, pure ecstasy running through you as your hands move up to wrap your arms around Hyunjin’s neck, pulling him close to you and into a kiss. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back. Both of your mouths open to crash your tongues together in bliss as your legs wrap around Hyunjin loosely. His hips stay consistent, but your hips twitch and stutter. Your back stiffening and twitching, pressing tight against Hyunjin’s clothed torso as he kisses you. One of his hands guiding up to harshly caress your cheek, jaw and neck. His long fingers tugging lightly at your hair as your hands screwed with Hyunjin’s hair. Running through it, gripping it, even tugging it sometimes.

“Oh my fucking god, (Y/N),” He moans against your lips, moving away to rest his lips against your neck as he groans, his hips stuttering slightly, throwing him off his rhythm, “You’re pussy’s so fuckin’ good. Feels so fuckin’ good.” You moan out in response, too lost in desire, lust and euphoric, blissful pleasure to form something as simple as a response. Your mind so blank, nothing running through your mind other than how Hyunjin’s cock makes your pussy feel so fucking good. How he makes you feel so fucking good. The way it’s overstimulated and edged on, it’s almost overwhelming to the point you want to cry from the stimulation.

You begin to moan, nearly screaming out Hyunjin’s name as you feel your climax nearing, clenching helplessly around his cock. “Hyunjin… Hyunjin! Oh, fuck, Hyunjin - ah, I’m gonna cum! Please, oh god, please, I wanna cum so… ah! - so fuckin’ bad…” Your words are slurred, but enough for Hyunjin to make out.

“Mmh… Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock, baby girl,” your back arches, flush against Hyunjin’s body as your gut erupts with a new feeling. Your neck cranes as your eyes open, rolling into the back of your head as your mouth opens in a silent scream. Cumming all over Hyunjin’s cock as he stops his thrusts, deep inside you to let you cum. Your mind hazing as you let out a string of high - pitched moans. Your body twitches and your knuckles turn white from gripping Hyunjin’s tee shirt.

Once you’re halfway through your climax, nearing the part where your whole body relaxes, Hyunjin quickly pulls out. Getting up from you, and your arms drop to your side as you breath heavily, coming down from your high. Hyunjin pumps his cock fast in his hands. Not slowing down whatsoever as his eyes squeeze shut. You watch his face as his mouth opens, moaning loudly as he cums over your stomach.

Once he is down from his climax, he breathes heavily. Sweat dripping down the side of his forehead. Your head falls back, your eyes closing as exhaustion then waves over your body. Catching your breath.

You didn’t even notice Hyunjin leaving shortly to grab an old cup from the counter and fill it with water before coming back. Dipping his fingers in the water to wipe his cum off of you. You jump at the sensation, but relax when you see Hyunjin’s distant, wistful smile. You watch as he wipes it off, making sure it’s clean before dumping the cup in the sink. Your heart quickens as Hyunjin puts on his clothes before he walks over to grab your clothes and silently help you put them on. He doesn’t really make eye contact with you, but it’s a comfortable silence. The first ever comfortable silence you’ve had with him.

It’s then, as he helped wipe you clean, dress you and make sure you were already by wiping the sweat off of your face with the back of his hand that Hyunjin wasn’t who you thought he was. Everything’s not as it seems. The way he smiles so adoringly at you as he brushes the back of his hand against your cheekbone ever so lovingly makes you feel conflicted with feelings.

At some point, Hyunjin lays down next to you on the art table. It’s quiet for a few minutes, both of your just staring at the ceiling, shoulders and legs touching.

“I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” He whispers, and you finally look over to him. He wears a delicate smile, and a tear trickles down the side of his face, “I really shouldn’t. I really don’t know why, but I do.” His voice cracks at the end of his sentence, and you swear your heart shattered right there. “I… I shouldn’t have had sex with you. It’s only making everything worse for me. It’s making everything hurt so much more.”

He sits up, wiping his face, turning his back from you. He sniffs softly, letting out sharp breaths as his back trembled from his hoarse breathing.

You sit up, too. Reaching over to put your hand on his shoulder, but you hesitate.

No. If Hyunjin isn’t really who you thought he was, you want, you need to get to know the real him.

So, you make up your mind.

You get off of the table to move in front of him, and he tries to move away, his hands covering his red face. You gently grip his hands, pulling them away from his face. And it’s a sight you thought you’d never have to see. His eyes are red, his face wet and pink from the tears staining his face. It’s such a pitiful look on him, and you thought you’d never, ever see him so vulnerable. He keeps him looking down, trying to pull his hands away, but you have a tight grip on them.

“Look at me, Hyunjin.” You demand in a soft, yet firm voice. Hyunjin doesn’t for a moment, and you were about to repeat yourself, but Hyunjin’s eyes lock with yours. You give him a soft sigh and smile, “Hyunjin. You’ve proved to me that you’re not the person I thought you were. And… if you’re really not the douchebag, fuckboy and absolute asshate that I know, then… then I’ll stay by your side. Alright?”

Your heart hammers against your chest as Hyunjin’s eyes widen slightly, another tear slowly dripping down his face. You let go of one of his hands to gently rub it away with your thumb. Just below his eye. Hyunjin stares at you with wide, doubtful eyes. His lips slightly ajar as his hand trembles in yours.

So, to ease the silence, you press a gentle kiss to his lips. With no tongue, it’s an innocent kiss. He doesn’t kiss back at first, but he does after a moment.

And, the rest of that night was spent in that old art room. Either talking to each other, kissing each other or holding each other that night. You learned a lot about Hyunjin. About why he likes to fuck around, why he thinks he’s in love with you and other things about his life. You also told him a lot about you, about why you didn’t feel right about him at first.

And, by the end of that night, you could easily conclude that you’re in love with Hwang Hyunjin, and that it’s possible to fall in love with someone in the span of one night after years and years of hating each other.