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heard-nsfw-is-back · 1 year

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Conveniently common kink fic. Steddie degradation fic. Because it's hot.

This is long as shit and just full of NSFW. It's 12am I need an EXORCISM.

Steve is always a little mean. He can't help it that sometimes his face moves faster than he can school it. His words come out colder and he can't wrestle with them to be nicer. His parents gave him shit for it but they were the masters of passive aggressive back handed compliments so it's not really his fault.

Eddie on the other hand loves to be made to feel small. Having to survive on next to nothing, having to grow up too quick, taking free therapy with ttrpgs. Wanting to not have to think, or do, anything. Too not want to mess us. He's good with words, better in his creativity, but sometimes he wants to be made in someone else's image.

When Steve is sarcastic with the kids it's a sweet sort of corrective comment. A "don't do that that's dumb" kind of thing like a "I know better don't think I don't" kind of way. And fuck if that's not the hottest thing ever. Pretty Steve with his kind eyes and wicked humor. A wicked tongue if Eddie was brave enough to think it. Steve looks at Eddie trying to plan the next outing and work on times when he blurts out "oh just sit there and be pretty and silent, let the adults make the actual plan".

And Steve regrets it immediately until something in Eddie's eyes spark and heat spreads out from his chest to the ends of his body. That's what he was waiting for. That reaction of pure blind obedience. Eddie sits back down swallowing a groan and waits patiently for the next thing Steve tells him.

Nothing happens for the next few days, but for lack of trying. Steve is carefully judging if what he saw was what he actually saw or what he wanted to see. The next time he sees Eddie he makes a note to try again just in case. They talk for a little before Steve glances at Eddie's hair. "You never properly brush this rat's nest if you're going to have it this ridiculously long the least you can do is take care of it." He runs his fingers through Eddie's hair making sure to tug at it. It's not rough or tangled, he knows that Eddie is just this side of vain to keep his hair well maintained. But Eddie blushes and tilts his head back, eyes almost glassy. Oh yeah he can work with this.

All his effort goes from being sort of bitchy to everyone to only being bitchy to Eddie. And having that attention on him does wonders for ego, before Steve rips it apart so well. Will comes up to him privately, concerned. "Steve has been really mean is everything ok? Did something happen or did you want me to say something?" Eddie smiled, touched that he would care. "I'm fine don't worry, I'm a big boy and if Steve has something to say he can say it." A double meaning if there ever was one. Will narrows his eyes, distrustful but relenting, and walks away with a nod.

Steve leans in one time and Eddie has to Work to not buckle under him. He goes on for a full minute about how he needs to get his house together. "You go through so much effort for a boardgame you can't even manage to find time to wipe a window sill? That's a bit pathetic don't you think." Eddie feels hot wonderful shame creep under his neck. It's true that his place has been neglected and that same time next week he cleaned the whole thing. Steve comes over with everyone and is impressed. He sees Eddie looking at him and refuses to make eye contact. "You actually know how to use a mop, that's almost impressive if it didn't take you so long to get it done." Eddie has to lean on the table next to him to stand up right.

"Ok that's enough! Steve what's wrong with you? You're being so nice to everyone but Eddie. What's your deal?" Dustin stands between him and Eddie and he feels sort of angry that such a sweet and hot reaction was being blocked. "He's fine. That right Munson? You're good?" A soft check in, but hopeful that he can continue. Eddie just shrugs. "I'm good. It did need to be done." Steve feels almost giddy. If he can keep making Eddie look at him and only him with those sweet eyes he'd be the happiest man in the world. Dustin rolls his eyes. "Whatever just back off." Steve nods, changing tactics. It wasn't fair to the group to be involved in the game he was playing with Eddie.

Later, when the kids leave to go home, he sticks around and plops down on the couch. Eddie stands and looks at him with those pretty eyes. "Can I help you?" Steve bites and Eddie plays with his lips. Steve stares and committed that image to memory. He's so cute, Steve thinks, and beckons him over. Eddie almost trips over himself to get closer. "No, on your knees. I'm a king isn't that right? Aren't you supposed to kneel for kings?" Eddie pauses and Steve is about to put that down as a hard limit before Eddie slowly lowers himself. A wide grin stretches Steve's face before Eddie crawls over to him. And THAT is an image he will never get over. Those hips, that back, those arms holding him up. Perfection honestly. Eddie kneels in front of Steve and he has him wait there for a moment.

Then he spreads his legs and pulls Eddie up to him, trapping him in his legs and in his arms. He can feel Eddie shaking and throbbing and he wants to be mean and laugh. So he does. "I haven't even done anything and you're so touch deprived you're already hard and aching. That was quick." Eddie's blush gets more red and he starts breathing a little heavier. "I wonder if I can make you cream these pants just talking like this. You're so cute I just want to break you in to pieces." Eddie ducks his head, a little overwhelmed. Steve grabs his jaw. "Don't. Keep your eyes on me."

Look at me, only at me. Forever. And Eddie understands, because of course he does. The need to be seen as a whole. Steve craves it, a hole in his soul and Eddie is determined to fill it. To be the center of his world. Eddie keeps eye contact and gently moves a little closer. The need to kiss Steve is an all consuming itch now. Steve pulls him close and finally, finally he's kissing Eddie. He tastes like a sandwich and soda but he doesn't care. Eddie's breathing air in to his heart and soul and he feels something in him get just a little smaller. A little more healed. A little more possessive.

He has barbed wire in his heart and he wants to keep Eddie trapped in it. He rolls Eddie under him and groans, he needs to be inside Eddie. Have Eddie in him. Anything Eddie wants he would make it happen if he would just stay there with him. Eddie pulls off their shirts and pushed his tongue in to Steve's mouth. A little air gets in and they moan together. Already in synch. Steve's rough with it and Eddie is giving slower, steady movements and Steve wants to cry. Sweet, caring Eddie. Eddie pulls away and Steve already misses the feeling of his mouth on his. "Do you want to? Y'know? I want you, I'm ok with just this." Eddie asks, pushing some of Steve's hair off his face. 'Just this' he says as if he hadn't been the source of his soul for a while.

Steve grins and grinds his hips down on Eddie, watching Eddie keen and buck under him. "I want this. I want you. I want you begging first, for mercy or more." He bites hard on Eddie's neck and the garbled moan he can feel in his mouth is a symphony made for him alone. Eddie traces the muscles of his back and when he bites and licks his neck a little further down, those hands dig in and this time Steve has to let out a deep groan. He reaches up a little and pulls Eddie's head back as far as the couch will allow.

Eddie is looking up and him and his face is red and his lips are swollen and his eyes are glassy and near tears. Steve gets a little more possessive and greedy. "I'm still not begging." Eddie retorted and Steve has to grin. "I thought I was the only one to be a bitch?" He traces the lines of Eddie's stomach, looking for more spots to bite and lick and suck. There's a spot just under Eddie's left ribcage that makes him arch slightly and Steve dives in. He's unrelenting in his attention and Eddie can't do much but hold on. Any witty comment or thought really practically skips out the window. He feels small and warm and safe and hot all at once and he knows that only Steve can do this. Can make him feel so minute but so vastly important and needed at the same time.

Eddie feels tugging at his pants waist and he picks up his hips to let Steve rip it off. It gets caught on his shoes and Steve looks up from the dip of his thigh. "Shoes indoors? Absolutely not. Filthy." Eddie's brain happily filed the reprimand as Truth. Steve sees him fall deeper and deeper in that glorious submission. Absolutely gorgeous. What a pretty thing Eddie is. No one could compare.

Steve sits up and pulls Eddie's boots off and carefully sits them down next to the couch. Maybe he could convince Eddie to pick them up with his teeth and carry them over to the door on his hands and knees. Yup, that delicious image had to be made real. He looks over at Eddie and he sees him stretched out, arms up gripping the couch as a life line to sanity. And suddenly the couch wasn't good enough. "I'm going to get up and go to your room. You're going to follow me." Eddie nodded, dazed.

Steve stands up and walks backwards making his way down the hall, stripping clothes off on his way. Eddie stands and looks over at Steve, a moment of debate and Steve is ready to do another check in before Eddie gets back on his hands and knees. A growl rips it's way up from Steve and Eddie grins. "Don't test me. I haven't been as mean as I want to be." Eddie waits and Steve mentally prays that he didn't make a mistake before Eddie crawls over, obediently following him. Steve's naked so he knows Eddie can see what that's doing to him and the little shit just preens.

Steve waits until Eddie is just close enough and gets a fistful of those amazing locks and pulls him up. Eddie whines and holds on to Steve's arms, pulling him closer. They're flush against each other and Steve sighs, blissful. Eddie feels amazing on him and if he had any more patience he would enjoy it but right now he needed to eat Eddie as torturously slow as he could. Eddie led them to his bed, meticulously made, and Steve just pulled Eddie's back against his chest. "Nice bed. It looks inviting. You weren't hoping for this were you my perfect slut?" Eddie pressed his ass against Steve and he dug his hands in to Eddie's sweet waist. "It looks like you were."

And so what if he did? What else could Eddie focus on except that voice, that body those hands? If he spent the past few months making an effort to make his brain explode from his dick, who was going to judge him? From the heat and throbbing of Steve's election against him, certainly not the other man. He tilted his head to the side, inviting Steve back on him. He was already covered in deep red bites but it would never be enough. He could still feel his thoughts threatening to distract him and he keened a little.

Steve gave a depreciating laugh and it hit just right. "What a pathetic little man you are. You need me that badly? You're so selfish, this isn't enough for you? So greedy pet." Eddie could only nod, dreamily. Steve pushed Eddie down on to the bed and made him arch his back. Any and all thoughts faded to blissful emptiness. It was only Steve. Steve was the only thing that mattered.

Eddie was so pretty like this. Back covered in freckles, skin soft and shoulders pink from Eddie's blush. Dimples of Venus that Steve knelt down a little to bite and suck on them. Eddie was just as soft and creamy as he looked. Steve groaned, completely addicted already. He would spend the next time just paying attention to this spot. Eddie wiggled, trying to get him a little lower and Steve grinned. So wonderfully impatient. Not that he had much patience left himself but he wanted Eddie begging, and he was still quiet.

"Use your words." He whispered into the cleft just above Eddie's ass. Eddie moaned and picked his hips up into Steve. A harsh bite to the apex of his ass made Eddie squeak and press back down in to the bed. "Your words Munson. I know you can. Are you so turned on you can't even speak? Maybe I just have you bark or meow instead since words are too hard for you." And that was Definitely going to be a thing. A pretty collar and bell around Eddie's neck. Maybe later he could convince Eddie to wear his name on the tag.

"Please, please, please." Eddie sighed and starting rocking on the mattress for some relief. Steve let him hump the bed for a full 10 seconds before pulling his hips up. "Please, what?" Eddie whined and felt tears prickling his eyes. "Need you. In me. Please please Steve." Steve cooked his head. He desperately wanted to eat Eddie out but maybe he shouldn't edge him just yet. Next time. "You have lube?" He asked and brushed his hands up and down Eddie's backside. Up to the middle of his back and down his thighs as best he could reach, trying to soothe him and keep them both grounded.

Eddie looked up, tears making his face glitter in the soft light of the window. God he was beautiful, and all Steve's. Eddie dug around the nightstand and pulled out the last of a bottle of lube. He meant to buy more but he was too busy recently. Steve just shook it a little. "Been lonely Eddie?" Eddie turned to look back, a blush painting his cheeks redder. "No." He answered honestly, and Steve felt the wires in his heart squeeze. He leant down and kissed Eddie again. He missed the air the other man breathed on his soul.

Steve fumbled blindly trying to figure out the cap and squeezed the last bits of lube on to his fingers. A second outside of Eddie's body was too long now. He rubbed the tip of his middle finger on to Eddie's hole and felt it clench. Eddie made a small sound of surprise and Steve melted just a little. He was so cute. Everything he did was adorable. He played on the outside just a little and when Eddie whined and bucked in to his hand Steve slowly pushed inside.

Eddie pulled away, needing air and Steve pressed their foreheads together. They were touching but still so far apart. If they weren't in each other's skin, they were too separate. Steve pushed until only the knuckle was left and he gently pumped in and out, trying to stretch him but also find that spot inside. Eddie tossed his head back, hair getting too hot to deal with and Steve used his other hand to grip as much as he could. He used that leverage to hold Eddie close, not that he had any plans to get away.

Steve pulled out and pressed two fingers in and started scissoring. Needing to drag it out and still find a way to torture Eddie. He twisted his fingers and Eddie almost screamed. "Thats it. There we go." Steve waited until Eddie caught his breath and went to town on his prostate. Every brush, every twist of his hand and fingers relentlessly pressed against it. Eddie was drooling a mess and could barely keep his eyes open, he was panting or pleading for "More please please fuck it feels so good."

Steve rushed a third finger, he wanted to torture Eddie but he forgot that Eddie was made for him and tested his patience so well. When Eddie was squeezing the blankets and his moans and whines got too quick, he figured Eddie was getting close. He pulled his fingers out and Eddie did start crying. "No please come back put it back." His eyes shined in the setting sun and Steve couldn't be mean if he tried. Instead he kissed Eddie's shoulder and pressed the head of his dick to him, trying to get as much of the leftover lube on himself.

Eddie shifted his weight and Steve just pushed him down. "Don't think, just take. No. That's not right. Accept. I'll give you what you need you just need to let me give it to you. Be a good boy and lay there for me." If Eddie could lift anything, clearly Steve wasn't doing it right. Trapping him against the bed, he presses slowly and carefully inside. Steve watched as Eddie's shoulders tense and his eyes rolled back. Fuck he was going to be quick if Eddie kept looking like a fucking angel. His hips pressed against Eddie's ass and he waited for the tension to leave Eddie's back.

A few minutes pass, and Eddie is pushing back, trying to rock some movement. Steve lays down fully. "What did I say? I said use your words, and don't move. Isn't that right?" Eddie whined, a sweet pathetic little noise, and nodded. Steve picks up one of Eddie's legs and lays it on the bed. The angle is perfect and Eddie can almost feel the head of Steve's dick press mercilessly on that spot. Stars, constellations a damn galaxy bursting in his vision. Steve hums, Eddie shakes in his orgasm and Steve tries not to let that go to his head. "What a whore. You came just from me inside you? What a mess. If you think I'll be nice, you're wrong. I'll wring out more from your spent little body."

Steve pulls back still careful to not hurt Eddie and keeps moving just as slowly until Eddie is arching under him and then he picks up the pace. Faster and faster he gets and tries not to let the hot tight feeling of finally being inside of his pretty little thing's body make him cum too quickly. He does some inane math, tries to name the states in alphabetical order, anything to keep him feeling this forever. God Eddie was so good around him. He looked down and watched as Eddie matched his breathing to the piston of Steve's hips.

Eddie was euphoric. He couldn't think, couldn't speak, just moaning and whining for more of Steve. He was oversensitive but fuck if that didn't make it better. The feeling of Steve's hands like vices on his hips and hair, of his dick rubbing so hard and so good inside. He could live like this. Be a sex toy for Steve if he wanted. A free use doll for anytime Steve felt the whim.

Steve couldn't hold on much longer, the sight and feeling of Eddie under him was slowly driving him crazy. He bent down, and bit into the crease of Eddie's neck and shoulder and Eddie swooned and screamed Steve's name. The heat around Steve's dick got tighter and hotter somehow and it was enough to push him over the edge.

When they finally caught their breath, Steve eased his way out, memorizing the sight of his cum dripping out of Eddie's hole. "Don't move I'll be right back." On shaking legs, Steve made his way to the bathroom and found a small hand towel, he got it warm under the hot water and wrung out the excess. He went back to Eddie who dutifully did not move an inch and he couldn't help but smile. What a good boy he was, and he told him as much.

He wiped down Eddie and tried to get the covers off to tuck him in. It was too covered in sweat and cum so he just picked Eddie up and leaned him against his side and ripped the blankets off. He could start laundry later. Gently he laid Eddie down who looked about 5 seconds from sleep. "You're so good to me. For me. My wonderful sweet boy. You did so good, took me so well." He murmured praises and Eddie sleepily responded. It was just sounds but Steve couldn't help but love it.

Eddie knocked out and Steve put on laundry and got a cup of water. He would make Eddie drink it when he woke up but for now he needed sleep. And Steve needed to hold him.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie

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the-hinky-panda · 7 months

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Strings: Part III

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Les Packer x Fem! Reader

Summary: You and Les had been high school sweethearts. You're going to be a music teacher, he's going to climb the ranks of the SAMDINO MC. The only thing that stands in your way is his mentally unstable brother, Isaac. Things fall apart and fifteen years later, your daughter calls Les for help when you're in a coma and she's trying to figure out how to stay out of foster care. Les is faced with figuring out if you daughter is his or possibly Isaac's. Either way, he can't walk away for a second time from you and your daughter.

“When was the last time you ate?”

Zoey covers her mouth with her hand as she chews the massive bite she just took out of a hamburger. Her eyes crinkle in the corners as she smiles behind her hand. “I’ve had a lot on my mind. Kinda killed my appetite.”

Les forces a smile at the comment, memories of shoving greasy bags of take out into Isaac’s room whenever “inspiration” took hold of him. Isaac would write, paint, sing, draw, whatever outlet of creativity happened to strike him at the moment. He would become obsessed with self-expression to the point that he would forget to eat or sleep. Les was once again shoved into the position of caring for his younger brother. The fact that Zoey shares in that temperament kills Les’ appetite and he slides his untouched burger over to her.

“So CPS is off your back and you’re feeling okay with that?”

She nods her head emphatically. “I was so scared of where I was going to end up. My friend, Tilda, her foster family actually made a request for me to live with them.”

Ah yes, the friend with the handsy foster father. “Tilda, that’s your friend who sleeps on the floor and takes care of the kids, and…”

Zoey grabs a fry and dips it in the small plastic cup of ketchup. “Yeah, that’s her.”

It infuriates him thinking about the possibility of Zoey being in that same situation. “What’s the family’s name?”

She looks up at him with those hopeful eyes. “You can get her out of there? Can she live with us?”

Les holds up his hand. “Slow down. First of all, I’m only here until your mama wakes up. So ‘us’ is very temporary. Second, I don’t know what to do about your friend but I’m willing to look into it. If something can be done, I’ll do it. But don’t go giving her false hope.”

Zoey nods in understanding. “I get it. Thank you, for whatever happens.”

He snags a fry off her plate. “Your mama got me into dipping these things in hot wing sauce whenever we would go to music festivals. If we couldn’t find that, we used bbq sauce.”

Zoey smiles and slides a couple of the ketchup cups towards him. They’re not filled with ketchup but bbq sauce. “She taught me that too. So is that how you two met? At a music festival?”

Les takes another fry from her plate. “No, it wasn’t a music festival. We met in high school.”

Isaac had been caught smoking a joint in the boys bathroom that afternoon. Thank God he had unloaded the crack he had brought to school that morning or else Les would have been waiting for him down at the police station and not at the high school. Their mother was on her way to the school but she had to finish her shift at the steakhouse before attending another sit down with the principal over her out of control son. Their father just flat out refused to even speak to the school anymore.

So Les has an hour to kill before Isaac is released into the frustrated hands of his parent and he ends up going where he always goes: the music room. No one knows he plays the guitar, that he started teaching himself at the age of ten. His father took him along to one of his motorcycle club’s parties and one of the guys had a guitar sitting in the garage with an inch of dust on it. Les had found a music book in the beaten up case and taught himself how to play jingle bells that night. It only progressed from there. He can now play by ear and has his own instrument stashed behind a stack of tires in the garage.

But as he approaches the door to the music room, he hears music already spilling out into the empty hallway of the high school. It’s a mix of guitar and percussion. He peers through the small window to see who is in the room but he only sees you. He watches as your fingers dance along the frets and strings, and then he sees you strike the body of the guitar with the heel of your hand. That creates the percussion sound. He doesn’t even realize he’s opened the door and stepped inside until silence replaces the music.

You stare up at him with wide, surprised eyes. He takes in a breath to say something but you jump to your feet. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”

He holds his hand up to stop you. “No, don’t go.”

“I don’t want any trouble. Please.”

Fucking Isaac and his reputation is starting to pull Les’ reputation under as well. Les is a senior, keeps his grades just above passing even though he could have straight A’s. He thought he was just playing it cool but perhaps his actions were listing him into degenerate space. He doesn’t like seeing the fear in your eyes, the tremble in your hands around the neck of the guitar.

“No trouble. Promise.”

He gives you a small smile and that seems to calm you somewhat. “Okay. Um, do you…do you play?”

He sticks his hands in his jeans pockets and shrugs. “A little, yeah. Not like you though.”

You duck your head in embarrassment and brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I was just messing around. It’s not exactly traditional skills. Mr. Elledge would kill me for hitting the body of the guitar like that.”

“I thought it was beautiful. Could you teach me?”

You think about it for a minute before nodding. “Okay. Sure.”

He remembers taking that guitar from you, the strings still warm from your hands. He remembers the scent of your shampoo, rosemary and thyme, as your hair fell over the both of them as you maneuvered his hands into the percussion positions. He remembers the warmth of your body pressed against his back. He remembers the desire that settled under his skin that prompted him to seek you out every day after that at school.

“My mom plays the guitar?”

The question wounds him. “She used to play all the time.”

“Huh.” Zoey sips at her soda. “I’ve heard her play the piano and a little on the cello, but never a guitar.”

He wonders what it was exactly that made you give up the guitar, the instrument that was constantly in your hands. He hopes he’s not the reason why you gave up the thing that brought the two of you together. That thought causes him to worry what your reaction will be when you wake up from the coma. “Well, when she comes to, you’ll have to ask her to play something for you.”

Zoey nods silently, taking his words as they were intended: hopeful.

#les packer x you #les packer x reader #les packer soa #les packer mayans #les packer fic #les packer imagine

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telomeke · 1 year

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MY SCHOOL PRESIDENT – SOME (RANDOM) THOUGHTS

My School President has hit the one-third, four episode mark, and this light little rom-com has got me *thinking* (a bit like Bad Buddy did in its time).

It's not all fluffy clouds and rainbows this one; there's a keen intelligence percolating behind the scenes that knows just what it's doing (and every now and then it will drop in a little nugget of greater significance to offset all the romantic sweetness, to remind us of who's in control).

I'm hopeful for more as the rest of the story unfolds, but am also hoping that they keep the balance right, because this has been (above all, so far) an enjoyably light high school BL romance.

MSP winks at Bad Buddy quite a bit – its team of writers and directors is approximately the same, although Khun Noppharnach has taken a step back into the producer role to allow Au Kornprom Niyomsil to take up directing duties, and only two of BBS's writers are on MSP. But the signs are there it's taking up the mantle BBS so expertly wove and deployed.

But at this time my thoughts on MSP are still random and unfocused; I can't tell where it's taking us just yet. Nonetheless, I remember it took me until BBS Ep.5 and 6 to start focusing my thoughts, so I'm waiting things out before looking at MSP more closely.

In the meantime I can't resist jotting down some random unlinked observations though (more for my own future reference than anything else). Whether or not they'll come together as part of a bigger picture I don't know, but time will tell.

By switching up the POVs in consecutive episodes, they've wrung out the seme/uke trope (just as BBS did, but the MSP treatment is not as heavy-handed). At first it looked like the taller, serious Tinn was going to be an archetypal seme, but then they showed us he's really a lovesick dork whose schemes to get closer to Gun get thwarted by circumstances all the time (and that Tinn for whatever reason fails miserably to rise above). And Gun the shorter sunshine boy is anything but a delicate flower vase, more than just an object of affection. I think @absolutebl has already written about this here (and much more coherently too) so I'll leave it at that.

Win and Sound are going to end up together (this one's pretty obvious, I think). Their exchange in the music room (when Win says to Sound about the pieces of meat being grilled: "I'll get a new one for you. Here. Take this one") at Ep.4 [4/4] 11.14 (as well as Phat and Por's reactions) is MSP winking at the "food = love" trope, not just Sound's acceptance into the friendship group. But with the ditching of the seme/uke trope that Thai BL seems intent on pursuing, I think the two blustery personalities getting together is another wink in that direction, that they're moving away from stereotyped roles in Thai BL couples as well.

There are also two nods that MSP does to socio-political realities outside of itself, that directly or indirectly have an impact on the production of Thai entertainment.

The first is at Ep.1 [1I4] 11.04 when Gun turns up for the presidential debate like this:

This is actually a reference to the current governor of Bangkok Chadchart Sittipunt, who, while serving as a minister in 2013 was photographed in much the same (casual) outfit barefoot and bearing alms at a Buddhist temple, concretizing his down-to-earth and solidly dependable image among Thai people:

MSP's nod here is a witty flex, but I've not quite worked out yet what they're getting at, beyond that it's a cute, chuckleworthy moment.

The second socio-political nod they've done is at Ep.4 [3I4] 0.27, and it's particularly barbed:

This is a direct reference to government intervention in the creative process, that is being done with a view to increasing Thailand's visibility and clout in the global entertainment scene.

You can read more about it here:

It's clear that there is pressure being applied for productions to go in certain directions (possibly with the dangling of financial carrots, that the money guys at profit-driven studios may be insisting individual shows have to snag, thus entailing modifications to the plot or portrayals for compliance with funding guidelines – but really I'm just guessing here).

Any sort of outside influence will always be a dampener on the creative process and I'm sure this is what's being critiqued here.

I have my own ideas about which directions are being strongly pushed (to increase marketability) but will save the details of that for a different post – for now I will say that I think Thai creatives are being pressured to emphasize Thailand's cultural links and overlaps with East Asia (especially with an eye on the gigantic Chinese market).

So climbing back into MSP from outside the fourth wall (and keeping with the randomness of it all), @respectthepetty has pointed out that Tinn and Gun may be represented by the colors blue and red, in this write-up linked here.

I'm keeping an open mind about this, but if it is true – take a look again at this photo of Tinn and Gun on the stairs:

There are red and blue arrows on the steps, with the red pointing up and the blue pointing down. I know these are the school's directional arrows for the students to follow when using the staircase, but even though the arrows are worn (and thus may be pre-existing and not intentional on the part of the MSP production team), part of me can't help wondering if they may be signaling future developments for Tinn and Gun too. 🤔 Why keep the shot so wide, if not to keep these arrows in view?

All eyes on you, My School President! 😍

#my school president

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turbulentscrawl · 5 months

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OMG HI I'M SO SORRY.

I just added some things to the match up and so I'll just copy paste what I sent, along with the updated things. I'm so sorry if this is a bother.

I'm 5'3 with mid length brown hair and bangs. I'm an ENFP-T if that matters lol. I'm also bisexual! I don't really have a preference for gender, nor for hunter/survivors. My favorite colours are green and yellow. I'm a Taurus and my fashion sense sort of. Is like, star-core / star aesthetic if that makes sense? I feel like my love language is to (receive) words of affirmation (give) quality time

Oh gosh, where to start haha!

In general, I'm sort of energetic, friendly and bouncy. I don't find it hard to socialise with people 94% of the time. I am very. Very. Passionate about my autistic special interests (high school Musical, art and general creative acts and such). I'm always on the move and have been described as a manic pixie dream girl at times haha. Despite that, there is always that 6% of the time where I sort of slip up.

I am not a flawless social butterfly, I will admit to that lol. I sometimes grow awkward and quiet, usually because I'm surrounded by people who I don't really know how to talk to or I struggle to mesh well with. This tends to get me excluded from most friend groups because, like, most people don't like loud, awkward messes. On top of that, I'm actually extremely paranoid. I'm terrified of the dark because I'm convinced someone is out to get me, it's kinda funny :3. The paranoia does get really bad, that I struggle to leave my room because like. Again, worried someone is out to get me.

Anyways, that's only 6% of the time!!

I'm insanely creative. I've always been so. I love to read, and write, and draw and paint. It's my special way of expressing myself. I plan on being an author, something I've dreamt of since I was like.. 2? Or something ^w^

I've been told I'm a bit of a rambler, once I get started on something it's difficult for me to stop. Especially when it's something I find fascinating. I love to research topics I like. I have spent an embarrassing amount of time researching early childhood trauma and the way a stressful event can effect a developing mind.

I love being in the spotlight and used to take drama classes because I loved having people's eyes on me. I hope that's not a red flag haha, I just like having attention on me sometimes!

I also used to take horse riding lessons. I was a horse girl as a kid. I'm sorry.

I listen to all kinds of music. Country, rap, pop, jazz. I love experiencing all different kinds of sensations!

I am always somehow moving. Whether that's talking to someone, rocking myself back and forward, I'm always some how on the move.

One of my BIGGEST flaws though is that I'm pretty socially unaware as well. I can come off as rude and insulting without meaning it to be, and unless someone tells me that I'm being insulting, I'll probably double down until someone makes me actually think about what I'm saying.

I think my ultimate deal breaker I'd someone with overly unhealthy attitudes to approaching a relationship. I'm really big with communication so someone who struggles to talk to me if they're feeling upset, or someone who lashes out at me for things I've genuinely never done. If you can't be mature and speak to me like a grown up, I won't want to be with you.

Im sorry!!

sorry for the wait on this! Hope you like <3

I ship you with Demi Bourbon!

-Demi is also a social butterfly who can get along with all sorts of people. She’s highly adaptable, understanding, and friendly, almost to a fault. She’d be just as open and welcoming to you as she is anyone else, regardless of whether you’re in a peak social mood or feeling a little more awkward that day, so meeting and getting to know one another is easy.

-Demi is a very “go with the flow” type in regards to conversation, and she is a fortunate mixture of intuitive and forgiving that means she’s not likely to suddenly fly off the handle if you happen to say something insensitive or insulting (or for any other reason, really.) She prefers to get you alone if she can, quietly let you know that she doesn’t super appreciate whatever was just done or said, and then try to explain why. And if you apologize, she accepts, and what’s done is done.

-On that note, she struggles with deeper communication a little, only because she’s not the most eloquent speaker and sometimes struggles to verbalize her feelings effectively. In this sense, she’s also a bit of a rambler. But as long as you’re a patient and active listener, she’ll get her point across eventually.

-She also loves all kinds of music, and takes interest in other people’s hobbies. She’s not likely to hop up on a horse on her own any time soon, but she thinks it’s neat that you do! And you can talk to her about literally anything—for hours even, as long as she has a drink to keep her hands busy—and she’s completely enthralled the entire time. She remembers just about everything people tell her, and gives Words of Affirmation and Gifts as her love languages, referencing older conversations with those as much as possible.

-Demi isn’t afraid of the dark, but she thinks it’s kinda cute that you are. She wouldn’t make fun of you for it, but she does use it as an excuse to hold your hand and coddle you a bit. I have this cute image of you two settling down for the evening, and Demi holding your hand and charging down the hallway with you the second the light is flipped off. She’s giggling the whole time, and makes sure you get into the next room before her. She’ll be your shield from the monsters ;)

Runner Up: Lucky Guy

#idv matchup #turbulentscrawl

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iisasarcasticlittleshite · 2 years

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Hi!

If you haven't noticed already 🙈 I'm a fan of your writing and i saw the request post you pinned...

First of all: the prompts are deliciously creative, they made me cackle (ugly and loud) and i would love to make a request if that's okay.

If it is, i would love to request something for Nanami with the prompt nr.9: “The day you make him laugh is the day whales walk on land.”

I mean... the man is a tough nut to crack and I don't think he normally would do more then quirk the corners of his mouth, so this prompt, i feel, is perfect for him and I'd love to read your take on it! If you're up for it ofcourse!!!

- Kali 🌻

Wanted to get this done quick for you because your support and the nice things you say just made me happy giggle 😊 still got carried away. Writing this made me smile, I hope you love it as much as I do ❤️

"The day you make him laugh is the day whales walk on land."

You send a pointed look at your former upperclassman, now your fellow sorcerer. You've known Gojo since both of you were infants, and thus have competed with him in all aspects ever since.

Being the only person in the world who could ever give him pause in a fight means something to a lot of people, but it means very little to you now you've grown and realized that even second best is too good to be anything but bored.

So, what do two, overpowered, bored sorcerers do when they've got time to kill? They make bets on poor, unsuspecting colleagues.

In this case, the victim is your boyfriend of several years: Nanami Kento.

'Beg pardon?' you declared, indignant. 'He's been my partner for two-and-a-half years! Of course I can make him laugh!'

You could, you know how too, but part of you wished you'd kept your big fat mouth shut; because the only way to make Kento laugh was utterly embarrassing for you.

But of course, you just can't do that, because you have to exist in this endless competition with your cousin.

Your family's are so far apart they need encyclopedia to prove that you're even related, but if course, they have them.

'Go do it then!' Cackles Gojo, so utterly sure that he's got you beaten at last. Outside of Jujutsu, he rarely ever trumps you at anything, you like to think it keeps him humble...but when had he ever been humble.

'No.' Pouting petulantly, you fold your arms. 'I don't do what you say.'

'Chicken!'

'Am not!' Childish? Absolutely. You blame Gojo, he brings it out of you.

The bickering begins in earnest and neither one of you grown ass adults is willing to back down, until the one source of mild sanity in your life rocks up to your office and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

'Good grief, will you two drop whatever nonsense you started? There's a class to teach at this school, Gojo.' Nanami drawls, resettling his glasses with those long, nimble fingers.

You lick your lips flirtatiously at your blonde prince. 'Good morning, handsome.'

He rolls his eyes, but the corner of his lips quirked up only slightly. 'Good morning, (Y/N).'

A giddy smile curls your lips at his use of your first name. You've always insisted that everyone stick to your middle name, the one sign of your family's European branch. The one thing that didn't make you a Gojo.

'Urgh, you two are gross.' Gojo sticks his tongue out exaggeratedly. 'I'm outta here, even Sukuna's better company.'

'Fuck you too, ya damn snowflake.'

Satoru flips you the finger, grinning playfully the entire way out of your office, which he hijacks regularly.

Nanami sighs yet again. 'If I didn't know you two, I'd think you hated each other.'

'Wait...Gojo doesn't hate me?' Aghast, you threw a hand to your chest. 'My dislike is unrequited? Whatever shall I do?!'

'I take it you skipped breakfast again?' Kento mused, making his way around your desk while you stood to greet him. 'Lack of baggels always seems to make you dramatic.'

'Love, you callin' me fat?' you jibed.

The second you're within reach, he snatches you up to his chest, silencing your jokes with a kiss, hands caressing your figure firmly, lovingly.

That's when that inevitable little noise happens, a quiet purr at the back of your throat. It doesn't happen every day, and you can't seem to control when it does, but when he touches you just right, he forces it out, and it always has him chuckling as he pulls away.

That smile is for your eyes only, his laugh is for your ears only, and losing to your idiot cousin is worth keeping that sacred sight to yourself as you lean in and kiss him again.

'I am calling you, perfect.' Kento whispered against your pretty lips. 'And if you're quite finished being adorable, I'm inviting you for breakfast. Seems to be the only way I can get you to eat at decent hours.'

Giggling, you throw your hands around his neck. 'Have I told you that I love you?'

'Not since you texted me at four in the morning.' Giving your rump a playful tap, he send you off toward the door. 'Off now, you can hang off me later.'

Pouting, you sneak in under his arm, knowing full well he doesn't mind the PDA so long as no students are around. It's inpropper, he says.

'You love me.'

'God help me, I do.'

#jjk fluff #nanami kento x reader #jjk hcs #gojo

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herstory5 · 1 year

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Shout out to: "Taja Lindley" for this beautiful, creative, captivating, visual imagery!!! This image speaks VOLUMES! Stay WOKE folks! https://www.tajalindley.com/thebagladymanifesta

“Bag Lady”

A song that is currently resonating in my mental space is by Erykah Badu, “Bag Lady”. There’s a section of the chorus that goes, “Bag lady, you gone hurt your back draggin’ all them bags like that.” Where oh where do I begin to unpack all of this mental and emotional baggage? Last week was the first week of my new African American studies course titled, “Sunken Place: Racism, Survival, and Black Horror Aesthetic.”

Films I've seen previously, like "Get Out," are being seen from a fresh perspective. The "rose-colored glasses" are no longer being worn. Professor Due gives us some insight on the origins of Black Horror, explaining that "it was a means to transfer real life traumas — fear and anger into a fictitious drama." I've always found it odd that I just cannot get enough of watching horror, even if it makes me cringe, squirm, increase my heartbeat, and stay awake at night with nightmares. Where does it come from? Professor Due made a statement claiming, "those who watch horror did better during the pandemic." As much as I'd want to, I just don't have time to fully unpack this statement. Yeah right, who am I am kidding, I can't wait to unpack this!

My mother abandoned my sister and me when I was just 5-years old. She left me and my sister in the care of our abusive, emotionally unstable, and often absentee father. My paternal grandmother took majority care of me and my sister until her health began to decline. She had adopted my father and his siblings from Germany, but that's a subject for another day. My sister and I were heading to school one day when we heard our grandmother's voice from a distance; upon turning around, we saw our disoriented and undressed grandmother (Nana) making her way up the street. Nana was exhibiting symptoms of dementia; I would learn later. When I was 11 years old, Nana passed. Those 6 years in-between the time of her death were very emotionally and mentally taxing on me and my sister. That was the beginning of the end for us. My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer in September 2019, less than a year before the pandemic. Fast forward to the pandemic, and my mother succumbs to cancer. I felt abandoned once again. I have endured much trauma in my life.

A major part of my childhood from a young age I recall watching horror and thrillers with my mother, father, paternal grandmother, cousins, siblings etc. Television shows and films like, The Twilight Zone, Alfred Hitchcock’s – The Birds, Psycho (all of them) and Rear Window, Rosemary’s Baby, The Exorcist, Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th, The Shinning, Poltergeist, many…many Stephen King films; Carrie, The Shining, It (I’m still freaked out by clowns), Christine, Pet Cemetery, Misery, Cujo and soooooo many more. Every person in my family I listed above had experienced trauma. Due to the brain's inability to differentiate between fiction and reality, when I watch a horror movie, a component of my mind believes that "Freddy Krueger (for example)" is after me in real life. So, how exactly can watching horror help you decompress? Specifically, those of us with anxiety and trauma. It makes me think of my ancestors and how they were able to survive such inhumanity, such brutality. Once the mind has gone through several traumatic experiences, it strengthens and realizes that it is capable of surviving. Regardless how it may seem, horror films inform us that fear is not fatal. Therefore, those who watch horror and/or have endured traumatic events may have done much better during the pandemic. Without this course, I highly doubt I would have been able to conceptualize this.

When so much of life seems out our control, horror may help us recover and get control over our feelings. Black men are being executed unjustly, and no one is being held accountable, eerily similar to the Jim Crow and Civil Rights eras. Women's rights to their bodies are being violated, with the overturn of Roe v. Wade. Black Horror is more than a cinematic feature; it is a daily lived reality for Blacks in AmeriKKKa.

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slickshoesareyoucrazy · 1 year

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Even More Real Parts

So my kid is in high school, and he got involved in something this year at school, which means J and I are spending more time at high school (especially me, because J works outside home and can't make it to every high school Thing our son needs to show up at/participate in). And I don't know if any of you other Gen X/Millennial folks have noticed this, but the 90s are somehow now the Nostalgic Throwback Fashion high school kids are recycling. It's fucking bizarre. Sometimes while I'm sitting in the school pick up lot, watching the children myself and my peers created walk out of school it's legit like I traveled back in time 20-30 years. One ginger kid walked out holding a trumpet case and wearing baggy basketball shorts and high tops with black short socks when it was under 50 degrees outside, and I almost texted A to ask him if there was an unknown heir up here somewhere in my son's school district. Or maybe I hadn't fallen into some crack in the space-time continuum. It was freakish and wild. (Seriously the kid looked just like A did 28 years ago standing there waiting on a ride, trumpet case and all).

Anyway, all this shit is a lead into me thinking almost involuntarily about high school, and that makes me think about my first boyfriend. I talk a whole bunch about J and he's the love of my life, and I consider him my first love, because I really didn't feel or understand romantic love until I met J (no shit), but I did get REAL lucky as a guilt-ridden, almost totally asexual, maybe on the autism spectrum, naive nerd with my first boyfriend in high school. He was (and still is) a gem. For serious. I could not have done better and he set the bar pretty fucking high for sequential relationships, and I'm damn glad he did. Because I know from even adult friendship experience, getting taken in by a shitbag in a romantic/dating setting could have been catastrophic. He gave me the gift of high standards. He gave me, 'G would never say that...do that...act like that with/for/to me, so you can go kick rocks, you dumb fucker...'

The way G let Shy and Oblivious Me know he was interested was so creative and sweet and brave. Truly very Knight in Shining Armor type shit. He did it in the 8th grade before we split up to go to different high schools, which was temporarily tragic because it takes me a while, even with very CLEAR expression to accept that a person could actually like me. But I eventually figured it out when we were attending those different high schools, and it (obviously temporarily, but importantly, I think) worked out. And G was my first kiss ever, and it was literary. Like it really happened in Sappy Rom/Com Style. And I wrote those things as they happened into my story, Admission. So there they are. I'd apologize for the length, but I'm not really sorry, honestly. Between A and G and J? I'm not sorry for being me all the time like I used to be.

With my son having a rough time of things at the beginning of the school year, I've found myself spending a lot of time searching for the good parts of high school, so I could highlight them for him. So I could share with my son what helped me survive. A and G were the best parts of high school for me, and there were times when they were the only good parts. I've never thought of G as anything other than a good part. I wish there was a way that people (especially men) would accept a sincere thank you for making your life better. G made my life better, even though we didn't grow up and get married. A makes my life better just being my friend. But it makes them feel weird if I directly tell them that, so I write them into fiction. In the beginning of Admission, the real parts are G.

#reliving high school with my kid has so far been the hardest and weirdest part of parenthood #there WERE good parts though

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mareastrorum · 1 year

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TF&TS

I'm gonna jot this down now and then probably edit and pin it later, but here's an explanation of what I've been working on.

TF&TS is a Critical Role fanfic I'm writing and plan to post to AO3. It's going to explore campaign 2 with the following caveats:

Molly survives the ambush on the Iron Shepherds.

Lucien pursues Molly as a spirit, similar to Azazel from Fallen (1998), as Matt described in the campaign wrap up.

There's a lot more detail to flesh that out, but to give a sense of why this grew into something big, this is how the fanfic came into being:

January 2022: I started watching Critical Role in order, beginning in campaign 1, including Talks Machina.

July 2022: I finished C2 and the campaign wrap up. Matt said that the initial plan had been for Lucien to be a lesser recurring villain as a spirit (like Azazel) that was trying to possess Molly's body and get rid of him. Lucien wasn't going to be a big villain until the Somnovem got revealed at some point.

I love that film. I love Azazel. I enjoyed Lucien as a villain. I got really excited at that idea and searched for fanfics that explored that. THERE WEREN'T ANY. Some fanfics explored Lucien as a more traditional ghost, or haunting dreams, and now there's a smidgen of short (usually 1 chapter) fics that address something similar to body-snatching. But not a full-on Azazel-style spirit pursuing Molly and trying to murder him to death throughout Campaign 2.

August 2022: Watched EXU Calamity. Damn, that was cool. Epic shit. Got me excited. Again searched for fanfics. Nope. It's only been a month, I don't know what I expected.

What would Lucien's spirit abilities even be? Ghosts are pretty lame in D&D. He can't just be one of Matt's old Lingering Souls because that class can be killed permanently, and it would be really easy for the M9 to do that. It wouldn't work for a recurring villain. He'd get Lorenzo'd. So Lucien would have to be something that was more challenging for a group, and he'd have to be something that could come back. Then I built a monster block for Lucien with Azazel style mechanics. I was like, cool, that was fun.

How would the combat play out? I got all the character sheets off CritRoleStats and played a combat scenario out. Lucien got curb stomped, so I modified his stat block and did it again, then again until I finished a stat block that was actually challenging. Cool, that was fun.

Wait, when would that even happen in the story? I looked up the timeline on the wiki to sort out when there would be an opportunity for (1) Lucien to come back as a spirit in the first place, and (2) when he would be able to reach the M9.

Well, shit, how does Lucien come back? If he's not a Lingering Soul, and he had to be repaired by the Somnovem, then he's somewhere in the Astral Sea. The Somnovem probably can't just fling a soul across the planes, so someone needs to summon him from the Astral Sea. Who would do it? The Tombtakers! But how? Only Cree and Otis have spells, so one of them. Otis can't use summoning spells like that, and there's no way for Otis to contact the Somnovem. But Cree can Commune! Cree has Legend Lore! But when would she use that? And so on and so on until I worked out a plausible way and time for him to come back. Cool, that was fun.

But then the question is: why did the Somnovem send Lucien as a spirit instead of just telling Cree to murder Molly? Matt might or might not have had an explanation for that plan, but regardless, it never came out in the campaign. And I never really came up with a reason for Molly to survive the Iron Shepherds. Would there be a reason for both? Shit, more brainstorming.

And then I had an idea.

I was like, no, I'm not gonna write that. That's too big. I've never written a fanfic. I've never done any creative writing outside of high school. But it's in my head and it wouldn't leave me alone. So I thought, I'll just get it out by making an outline, then once I get sick of it and don't write anymore, I won't be disappointed. I spent all of August writing an outline while I watched campaign 3. It wound up at 168 pages on Google Docs. Cool, that was fun.

I wasn't bored of it yet. So I brainstormed what I thought each individual Somnovem would be like. Oh, and some other themes for each of them. And tied them to specific sensory perceptions and schools of magic. I wrote a few key scenes with the Somnovem and Lucien because dreams are weird and the crazy wizard aberrations are cool. Then I wrote some scenes with Lucien and the Tombtakers. Then I wrote some scenes with Molly and the M9. Cool. Cool.

What if Molly learned about how to use his bloodhunter abilities through dreams about Lucien's past? Oh, that'd be great. So I wrote some scenes from Molly's POV where Lucien learned how to do bloodhunter stuff like that, then mapped out when they would have to take place based on when he hits certain levels. It was only going to be 5-6 dreams, and I thought that might be a lot. It's okay, I'll space them out.

Cool.

Fuck, I need to write it. I want to write it.

So I decided, sure, I'll write it after TNEOL comes out. That way I know Lucien's backstory and I can work that into the themes and plot lines.

I did not enjoy TNEOL. Almost any of it. Part of that is my fault, I had high expectations. But man, it missed every mark I had set.

I looked at the outline. Shit. Now I needed to add a backstory for any of this to make sense because it definitely does not work with TNEOL, and the readers will assume it applies. I NEED A HEADCANON. And I need to insert that backstory somehow. What if Molly had dreams of Lucien's past throughout the campaign? Sure! But why would Molly have dreams of Lucien's past so often after he survived the Iron Shepherds and none before?

Another idea.

All that brainstorming replaced the plan of having Molly learn abilities through dreams. So now I've written about 30 dreams. Yep. THIRTY. There's more that are in progress and not yet first drafts.

What if I made Lucien Irish as fuck? It's hard to hear accents while reading anyway, so adding a language would be fun. And dialects. And code-switching. Now I've woven in Irish. But wait, maybe that should be a D&D language.

What about Cree's holy symbol? The M9 never saw that necklace until Eiselcross, and it is kind of weird that Matt made such a big deal about seeing it then. How did she cast spells before then? What was her previous holy symbol? She had to have one to cast the resurrection spell that brought Lucien back. And what about how Lucien would have been able to read the book when it's written in Undercommon? Reminds me, how would an uneducated orphan learn how to speak so eloquently (and without copy/pasting anyone else's backstory like TNEOL did)? How can I represent the Pattern in writing? And then I methodically went through every single plot hole or gap in explanation that I could find in the campaign related to Molly, Lucien, the Tombtakers, Vess DeRogna, and the Somnovem.

Oh my god, all the fucking ideas.

I HAVE A HEADCANON.

And it just went on from there.

I bought Scrivener because Google Docs crashed whenever I opened it on mobile. Now TF&TS has about 235k words. Not a single chapter is complete.

Currently, the plan is to write as much buffer as possible before Molly's comic comes out in May, then work in whatever it has into the story (unless it's TNEOL-compliant, because no). Depending on how comfortable I am with the pacing, I'll either start posting one chapter weekly or bi-weekly in May, or perhaps on the anniversary of the last episode of C2.

That's what all my posts about fanfics and writing are about. This single fanfic. Just one. I've literally never written any fiction since high school. Zero.

But in about two years, I'll have finished one.

#TF&TS #critical role fanfiction #Azazel!Lucien

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eddie-gluskin-and-i · 2 years

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Daniel was wary- with good reason. He had "Stranger Danger" drilled into him from both family and school, and was fully aware that not everyone who claimed to know his parents, were friendly. Besides, his father had brought a few colleagues over for Dinner one time- and none of them looked like they had fallen out of a 1900s period drama. Nonetheless, caution didn't mean manners could be forgotten. "Do you know what he looks like, Eddie?" He asked, as politely as he possibly could, while slipping one hand into his pocket- where a vintage locket lay. It was part of a two piece set their mother had found at a flea market- and was the only piece of jewelry she always wore, besides her wedding ring.

If the tall man was unhappy in this request, his face - still shadowed- didn't show it. He did however, smile...and surprised Daniel with his description of his father. "...That's him, Mister! That's Daddy!" Jonathan interjected. Both brothers were polar opposites of each other, especially at that moment. While Daniel was considered a miniature version of Waylon, Jonathan was dark haired and blue eyed. He tried to shush his younger brother, who was treating this whole situation like a mini adventure, still beaming at Eddie. And yet, Daniel didn't wish to scare or upset Jonathan. "Th..that's him alright." He said, carefully placing the bat he had just picked up down again so that he could open up said locket. Daniel felt a chill as he showed Eddie the photos of both his parents, as if he had done something he shouldn't have. "That's him and Mum." The boy continued. "You said you knew our dad...how did you two meet? "Maybe we can find him in the last place you looked?" Piped up Jonathan, pleased to make a new friend. "Johnny....Dad's not an old sock! I remember he works with computers...." But there seemed to be not a computer in sight of this place that reminded them of a horror house for Halloween. Before either boy could say another word, the sound of heavier boots interrupted, followed by the clinking of chains. Until this moment, Daniel had still felt unsure about Eddie, even if he seemed charming and respected their boundaries. But the prospect of exploring this place alone wasn't just daunting. It was terrifying, far beyond what two boys could endure alone. "Little pig..." ((Your Move Eddie!)) #Wow I had a creative block #Sorry if its short #Can't wait to see how Eddie reacts to seeing Jonathan #Precious bean #Park Children #Eddie RP

A massive frame stood in the only doorway of the room. Its shoulders rose and fell with every heavy, ragged breath it took. There was no getting past it, that much Eddie knew.

He took hold of both boys’ hands and backed away slowly. There was a vent behind him just large enough for the children. The trick would be getting both up there before the disgusting monstrosity of a man could get to them.

“Don’t fret, my darlings,” he whispered as he lifted Daniel onto the table behind them. He swiftly knocked the vent grating open and helped the boy up just as the thing started growling and advancing. “You’ll be just fine. Now go.”

Jonathan, being the clever young boy he was, was already on the table and hauling himself into the vent just as the tall stranger man launched himself straight into the hulking thing.

“We can’t leave him behind!” Daniel cried, trying to crawl back out.

Jonathan stopped him and blocked the entrance with his arms. He took one last glance behind him at the stranger, who just barely dodged a crushing blow from the monster. His gut told him they had little time to flee. And his father always told him to trust his gut. He urged his little brother forward.

“We can’t go back now. It’s us. Always us, remember? Whatever happens, we have to stick together.”

Daniel sniffled, but didn’t protest any further. His big brother was always right.

A particularly loud crash spurred them both on their way through the darkness ahead. It wasn’t long before the frightening sounds of the fight became mere muffled echoes. Jonathan clutched the locket in his hand before continuing on, suddenly wishing that the stranger man was with them again.

#eddie gluskin #outlast whistleblower #ask blog #rp #story time

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duckprintspress · 2 years

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Solicited Brilliance

Hey everyone! This is Aria, one of the resident fandom olds here to bring you a guest blog post this week. The topic is near and dear to my heart, so let’s dive straight into talking about that ever-ominous thundercloud - Writing Advice!

Writing advice is a tricky subject for many authors - what works for one clearly doesn’t work for another, and what’s essential for one genre might not even apply to another genre . (Certain authors can pry adverbs from my cold, dead hands.) It doesn't matter who is offering it, where, or when: it is an industry truism that writing advice is as varied as writers themselves.

With that in mind, I asked ten different authors for writing advice, in the hope to highlight just how different we all are, even when approaching the same question.

The question I posed to everyone individually (so no one would get worried if they gave the same answer), was as follows: What is one piece of writing/writerly advice you hold as a Universal Constant? That no matter what you are writing or what you are working on still holds true?

As I hoped, the advice is as varied as the authors are!

@nottesilhouette:

Hmm I think for me, the Universal Constant is that [my writing has] got to make me feel good. Not necessarily happy, because I've definitely written through tears before, but it's got to make me feel...satisfied, or give me catharsis, or lead me towards a goal I'm passionate about (looking at you, med school essays!).

Even if [my writing is] for school, getting things done feels good, and for creative writing, I want to feel like I've stretched my writing brain or accomplished something cool -- if I'm not getting that feeling, it's time for a break and maybe a new plan of attack.

Hermit:

"You can't think your way out of a writer's block. Most of the time you need to write yourself out of a thinking block.” - John Rogers

When a story is fighting me this is often the solution. Either the scene is going against the characterization, the characters are lacking agency/being too passive, or I went wrong three sentences back; the answer to getting the story flowing is to write it differently and see how that feels. Rather than try to force an existing scene by coming up with better justification for an OOC (Out of Character) passage or diving into a new research rabbit hole.

Shadaras:

I don't know where this advice first came from (it's one of those things that just gets passed around until it's from the general writer mindscape, especially in fandom spaces), but this is the advice I tend to ground myself in: "Write what you want to read." What that means can vary depending on context, of course, but it gives a guiding point to return to when I'm stuck.

The thing I want to read could be a specific character dynamic, or leaning into descriptions of the environment, or a plot beat I really want to hit, or even (in a nonfiction context) just the clearest explanation of an event/rule I know how to give. Writing what I want to read means that I'm going to enjoy myself more, and that means that I'm going to be able to write much more easily, and that makes it more likely I'll finish stories and be able to share them with other people - and then I can find people who like the same things in stories I do, and we all win!

Annabeth Lynch:

The most constant advice that I really try to keep in mind is that sure, someone else may have written it, but not you. Everyone has unique experiences, and that makes your writing unique. No one can write something the exact way you would. It's my favorite advice I've ever gotten, and I feel that it's always relevant.

@ts-knight:

Writing by habit is often easier than waiting for the muse. When I feel out of practice in my writing, I find that starting again is an uphill climb, but setting a daily goal helps me get back into the flow. That goal could be just writing at all or a certain (achievable) number of words. That way, I know I've reached the goal not when I've hit a certain quality of writing, but when I sat down at the keys. Exercising my writing muscles (even when I'm afraid to) makes the creativity flow so much better than avoiding the ominous blank page!

@mad-madam-m:

[My writing advice is] that you have to finish. And I don't mean that you have to finish everything that you write; I've got easily a dozen stories or more that are either unfinished or never made it past the first draft. But if you're writing with the goal of sharing your stories with an audience, be that via fanfic or original fiction or what have you, I really think one of the best things you can do is learn to finish them. This quote about it in particular is one that I've held close to my heart for years:

“Finish. The difference between being a writer and being a person of talent is the discipline it takes to apply the seat of your pants to the seat of your chair and finish. Don’t talk about doing it. Do it. Finish.” — E. L. Konigsburg

Sanne Burg:

I think my universal constant is that I write because I want to write, and I create for myself. That means not caring what other people think of the topics I write [about], as long as I'm behind whatever it is I'm writing. (It also means that I know when I'm forcing it and that I need to stop when writing becomes a chore rather than something for fun or a hobby.)

@theleakypen:

I think the one [piece of writing advice] that has been truest for me, regardless of what I'm working on, is that if something isn't working [I should] step away from it for a bit and go work on something else. Usually if there's a problem, I need to let it percolate in the back of my head instead of banging my head against a wall.

ThePornFairy:

Focus on the feeling. If you can write the feeling so that it's filling you from the tips of your toes to the hair on your head, then you're on the right track. People don't care half as much about the setting and wording as they do about the feeling.

When people say "step inside your character", I think what they mean is "let your character feel and feel along with them until feelings come out on your page and stab your reader's eyeballs until they're feeling right along with you." Everything else can be edited later, as long as you capture and express the emotions.

@tryslora:

Fall in love with your characters. If you don't love them, no one else will. And yes, this includes the antagonists and every single side character. And while you're doing that, remember that every single character thinks they are the star of their own narrative, so let them tell you what it is, even if it's not the main storyline. Let them come alive.

Wonderfully said, everyone! I’m going to add my answer to the question as well, because sometimes, I’ve needed this reminder far more than I’ll admit!

@arialerendeair:

Don’t be afraid to write badly. Or poorly, or lazily. (Take that, Mr. Adverb-Hater.) There is a freedom I never realized before in allowing myself to write “badly:” to overuse certain words, phrases, and even styles as I write my rough draft. When I remember not to focus on the minutiae of a story, I can focus on the bigger problems, and fix the small ones later. Once the words are on the page, they can be fixed, but they have to be put on the page first. Write badly, edit, learn, get better, and write again.

Writing advice as a topic is a mix of controversial and contradictory; all advice should be applied in moderation rather than treated as an endless stream of syrup being poured over a stack of pancakes. (And now I want pancakes…) It’s always all right if advice doesn’t apply to you - but understanding why the advice is given is important. There are other authors out there who might need the advice that isn’t right for you.

When I set out to write this blog post, I had two goals. The first was I wanted to highlight how varied writing advice and tips can be. The second one was for everyone reading it to walk away with one piece of advice that they could hold to heart because it fit them. I accomplished the first, but the second is entirely up to every author reading this.

The one consistent theme through all of this advice comes down to two words: Keep Writing. Whether that’s daydreaming about your story or putting the words down on the page, write.

Keep writing.

Last, but not least, I’ll leave you all with the same question, because I know there are more answers out there that we all would love to hear:

What is one piece of writing/writerly advice you hold as a Universal Constant? That no matter what you are writing, what you are working on, still holds true.

Stay sassy, everyone!

#duck prints press #guest blogger #aria l. deair #guest blogger aria #original content #writing advice

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1-800-imagines · 3 years

Text

Summer Love |h.s|

no control part 1

tw: aggressive, douche bf (not harry)

Rowan was more excited for her second year of college at Dartmouth. She had a boyfriend and she was going to be a teaching assistant for English 1301. She had taken the course the year before and loved the professor. Dr. Montgomery had been impressed with Rowan that she had offered her a job for the next year and now Rowan basically was in charge of the class. She lectured, gave tests and quizzes, and graded papers. Dr. Montgomery was just there as a supervisor if Rowan had questions.

She was also excited for her classes because she was now able to take her major related courses. She adored English with her whole heart and now her schedule was full of English classes instead of just the basics. She had her classes that she was taking on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday's. And she taught two English 1301 classes on Tuesday and Thursday back to back.

Rowan was anxious about teaching. She was only 19. Her students would be the same age as her and might be in her other classes. It was the day before classes started and Rowan had moved into her apartment that day. It was a late start but her parents had wanted her home for as much as possible since she didn't come home much during the school year. Boston was only 2 hours away but Rowan didn't have a car.

Carter had helped Rowan move all her stuff in. Her parents had kissed her goodbye and left leaving the couple alone. Rowan flopped on her bed and laid back. She was exhausted from moving all the shit. She wanted a nap, but Carter was on her. "Not now, Cart," She mumbled with her eyes still closed.

"Come on, Ro. I helped you move all your heavy shit in and now you're gonna hold out on me," Carter said, his voice laced with guilt. Rowan sighed, but didn't move.

"No, I'm tired." She opened her eyes to look at him, "I'm sorry. Can't we nap and maybe after?" She asked him.

"God, you're such a bitch, Rowan." He snapped. His sweet attitude from earlier with his parents disappearing. He stood up from her bed and left with a huff, slamming the door. "Don't fucking text me." He yelled and the apartment door slammed again.

Rowan sighed again and shut her eyes. She honestly didn't care enough right now to deal with Carter and his antics. She was too tired. Their summer had been fun, but their relationship relied on sex and whenever Rowan didn't want to, he would get extremely mad and throw a fit. Rowan drifted into sleep without setting an alarm. It was only about 4:30.

——

When Rowan woke up, it was midnight. "Shit," She swore under her breath. She still had a LOT of stuff to do to prepare for classes and meeting with Dr. Montgomery tomorrow. On top of that, she probably wouldn't be able to sleep through the night. She sat up and looked around for her phone. When she turned it on she saw she had about 25 texts from Carter ranging from him being extremely angry to also saying he loved her and he was sorry. Rowan didn't want to deal with it. She plugged her phone into the charger and got up to finish dealing with her shit.

She was done prepping at 3am. And she had her first class at 9. She didn't have a car so she still had to walk to campus but she didn't live far. She was going to leave at 8 so she could pick up breakfast from the coffee stand. So in reality she needed to get up at 6:30 to shower. Rowan groaned thinking about everything and fell back in her bed. She set multiple alarms and fell back asleep.

At 6:30 sharp the alarm clock blared and she sprang out of bed, not wanting to be late. Her anxiety was always the worst on the first day. She actually had diagnosed anxiety and depression. She jumped into the shower to jolt herself awake. Mornings were always the hardest for Ro. She never wanted to get herself out of bed.

She let herself stay in the shower for 30 minutes and then get out and fully get ready. She dried her hair and put on some makeup. Her hair was generally pretty straight and currently was platinum blonde. She was a natural blonde but she liked it platinum best. She pulled on some ripped skinny jeans and a button up. It was 7:45 so she was good on time. She grabbed her vans and backpack and walked out the door, finally answering Carter. She simply just texted him, 'It's fine. See you after classes. R'

Before she shut the door, she yelled at her roommate, "Bye Ari!" Her best friend and roommate didn't have class till later but Rowan liked yelling at her start waking her up. Ari was even less of a morning person than Rowan.

Rowan made the trek to campus and to the coffee stand. She was in line, only kind of paying attention when it was her turn. "Hi, can I get a large double shot of espresso with cream and sugar? And then a bagel with butter?" The cashier nodded and she paid for her breakfast with her cash and change that was left from summer. She had a little bit of money from summer babysitting and knew she had to be careful about spending until the paychecks started rolling in.

Rowan turned on her foot to go wait for her order when she bumped into a very tall man, "Oh shit, I'm sorry." She said, dropping all her money on the floor, "Fuck." She had a major problem with swearing.

The man chuckled and bent down to help her pick up the money, "Don't worry about it, love." He had a thick british accent. He handed her the money and her heart skipped a beat. She realized she was staring and got a hold of herself.

"Thank you! Sorry again." She smiled and went over to wait for her coffee, slightly mortified. Rowan took out her phone to look down and texted Ari. 'I'm the biggest dumbass. I ran into this gorgeous man and dropped my fucking CHANGE at his feet and he picked it up for me and now I'm standing here looking like a fucking DORK'

She knew Ari wouldn't be awake yet, but it was a relief to tell someone even if they wouldn't read it till later.

The mysterious man walked over to wait next to Rowan and Rowan's heart was beating incredibly fast. How did someone have this effect on her? Carter sure didn't. "Rowan!" It snapped her out of her trance. She grabbed her order and awkwardly smiled at the man.

"Have a good day," The man said and Rowan nearly tripped.

"You too!" She said and ran off to try to avoid further embarrassing herself. "Jesus christ, get yourself together Rowan." She swore at herself and went to sit outside her class to eat.

Her first 4 classes went by quickly. She had biology, fiction & poetry, creative writing, and history all back to back. Then she had a break which overlapped with Ari. The two talked about Rowan's embarrassment of the day and Rowan saluted her and went to the class she was most excited about: Shakespeare's Greatest Works. It was taught by a new Professor.

She walked into class before it started and sat in the second row. She took out her notebook for that class and waited for class to start. On the dot of the hour, the door opened and Rowan gasped.

"Oh fuck me." She said a little bit too loudly. It caught the professor's attention and he smirked at her, giving her a little grin. It was the man from earlier.

"Alright class, I'm Professor Styles. Nice to meet you all." Rowan's heart nearly fell out of her chest.

#harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #harry styles #one direction au #one direction imagine #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction

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sweetestlamb · 3 years

Text

Unexpected

Summary: Accidental relationships are the worst.

Author's note: A silly little drabble(it's like 5k so idk if it's a drabble lol) I created based on an image @prodmina made for me, this is not related to BMTL at all-it's just a side dish I'm offering to my Junjin lovers. A few days ago we both noticed that these two don't really get much fluff without some angst(I'm guilty of this too so no judgement just an observation) Hence this was created, it's just a one-shot because this idea wouldn't leave my mind. This community is well fed but here's some more food for the hungry. And yes my page break this time is Sujin's sexy leg, I have no regrets.

They've been in the same school for as long as she can remember, her striving to be the best student only second to one and him seemingly showing up to drool on the nearest surface and give the female population heart palpitations. She's thankfully not one of his victims- having actual standards and a fully functional hippocampus; ergo while most girls are drawing hearts on their notebooks with Han Seojun opposite their name, she is turning her nose up at them judging them for their lack of foresight. A pretty face would only last for so long.

They stay out of each other's way, the only thing they have in common is Lee Suho- her childhood friend of many years and his best friends despite their varied differences. She and Suho haven't been spending much time together ever since she moved out with her mother, but he was still one of her oldest friend and someone she cared about. Long story short, they both spent years imprisoned with a monster and now they were free.

Her life was looking brighter, more technicolor and staying away from a thug like Han Seojun was only adding to its quality.

Which is why she's dumbfounded when they run into each other, at the most inopportune of time. She's walking home after her academy classes, being a pediatrician isn't going to be child's play and she has to take every possible advantage to make her dreams a reality. Without her father’s money backing her she has to accomplish this with her own merits, she is looking forward to proving him wrong.

Airpods in, she doesn't notice the group stalking her until it's too late. One by one they begin to surround her, leering at her body like she's a piece of meat on display- it makes the hairs on the nape of her neck raise in trepidation and disgust.

"Isn't it too late for a pretty girl like you to be wandering all alone outside?" The one she assumes is the leader croons, voice dripping in faux concern as he rubs his hands resembling a villian out of a 1940′s comic book.

She immediately begins to catalog how many of them there are, strategizing the best way to take them down. Fifteen of them. She can't fight them all, the best she can do is distract a few and make a run for it.

"Isn't it too early for vermin like you to be wandering the streets?" She replies snidely, rolling her eyes when they all whistle at her jab. This is such a pathetic end to her day, it's honestly beneath her.

"I'll make you regret that comment, you bitch!" Already with the name calling, this guy really was a cartoon villian and he couldn't even construct something creative to call her. instead choosing the most generic insult in the book. With a sigh she moves into a fighting position, fists raised guarding her face and legs apart.

"Let's just get this over with, you're sucking up all the air with that snout you call a nose." All she sees is his sneer and eyes huge in rage before he lunges at her, his movements are so predictable and she sidesteps kicking at the back of his knee swiftly. Then she grabs another arm that comes flying at her face cruelly twisting and flipping him over her body, his groan of pain music to her ears. She easily taking them out without breaking much of a sweat, she had been fighting since she was young and they were all clearly not trained fighters, just bumbling idiots playing gangster.

But then she hears the cold metallic click of a knife uncoiling. A shiver races down her spine. They really were low-lives, she hadn’t expected them to actually pull out a weapon.

"You need a knife to take on one girl? Can you even call yourself a gang?" The words are exactly the ones that are in her brain but she's not the one who utters them, a new voice has entered the fray. A familiar voice at that.

This day just keeps getting worst.

"Han Seojun, how about you mind your business we found her first she's ou--"

The rodent looking asshole never gets to finish his sentence as her leg comes flying at his face as she executes a perfect roundhouse kick, slicing through the air and landing devastating blow on his cheek sending him flying to the ground in a heap.

"Damn Sujin! And you call me a thug! I think you killed him." Seojun cries sputtering in disbelief motioning at the motionless body on the ground but she notes the impressed raise of his eyebrow. Like she needs him approval.

While the rest of the band of idiots are helping up their leader she realizes this is her chance, without a word to Seojun she takes off running. Easily jumping over one of her fallen attackers and stepping on his shoulder for momentum, he cries at her harsh treatment.

Turning back she sees Seojun deck a guy in the face knocking him out before he starts chasing after her, his long legs eating up the gap between them in no time, she's temporarily grateful that he's not the one chasing her the damn beanpole.

"Are you secretly a ninja or something?" She snorts at his terrified face, chucking when he keeps looking waiting for an answer as if he truly believes she might be. Nosy idiot.

"If I tell you, I'll have to kill you." She answers straight faced, watching as horror blossoms on his face and her musical laughter saturates the streets as she runs faster, he shakes his head at her smirking in reply.

It's the beginning of the end, but she had no idea.

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Somehow it becomes the catalyst they need to break the seal between them, she expects everything to go back to its rightful place- them ignoring the other’s presence as they've always done and only speaking when they had something rude to say, their normal. But as she's walking in the hallway she hears him shouting her name behind her, immediately all eyes in the hallway dart to them.

"Kang Sujin! Yah! I'm talking to you!" He garners the attention of everyone in the vicinity and she turns around, annoyance purposely all over her face. He needs to know that she is not amused with him.

"Yeah, people across town can hear you. What do you want?"

"Are you calling me loud?" He cries defiantly, obnoxiously even louder than before. The smirk on his face letting her know that it’s intentional, she aches to kick it off his face.

"Is the sky blue?" She sarcastically responds, waiting for him to catch up as they walk side by side.

"A better analogy to use would be is Han Seojun handsome?" She gags as he starts posing with a finger under his chin, in the distance she can hear high pitched squeals of his name.

She picks up her pace, regretting even giving him a moment of her time. She must have lost her mind for a moment, it wouldn’t happen again.

"No wonder you're single. Who could compete with your love for yourself? I have something to do so I'll leave first." She doesn't wait for his response, leaving to do nothing but that's none of his business.

But it doesn't end there, they just keep orbiting into each other. Their groups converging at lunch and when the boys are having a heated argument about who's the best character on Dragon Ball Z, they both passionately shout out "Vegeta!!" In unison making everyone turn to face them in shock that they've agreed on something. They stare at each other as flabbergasted before Seojun pushes his hand out, palm flat and expectant look on his face.

She simply stares back blankly, considering leaving him hanging just to see that stupid offended look he always gets around her but in the end she slaps her hand firmly against his, at least he was smart enough to know that Saiyan prince was the best.

Clap!

"Someone mark it on a calendar! Seojun and Sujin agreed on something!" Su-ah exclaims clapping her hands and smiling brightly, they both argue when several members at the table pull out their phones to commemorate the special occasion. She wrestles with Jukyeong, who's surprisingly strong and breaks free from her hold while sticking her tongue out.

"You're all so annoying!" They both explode again simultaneously, Seojun hanging off Chorong's arm as he tries to confiscate his phone, she glares at him for giving them another reason to laugh at them and Su-ah cheerily calls out, "Add that to the calendar too, they're so in sync!"

It's the worst lunch of her life, she kicks Seojun under the table. This was all his fault. Glaring when he kicks her back and they end up kicking each other until the period ends, oblivious to the stares around them.

At the end of the day she's eager to go home and do nothing, which is exactly when she feels someone tugging at her backpack forcefully dragging her backwards.

"Yah! Let go of me!" She cries out, slipping her arms out of her bag and turning around in a fighting position.

"At ease super soldier, it's just me." He replies as if that means anything, but she does lower her fists; marginally. To let him know she's ready to go at any minute.

"What do you want now?" She grumbles peering up at him and when he turns walking away with her backpack still in his arms, she chases after for that reason alone.

"I'm going to the arcade. They have the new Dragon Ball Z game."

She should go home and study, she promised herself she would review her notes from class today. She couldn't afford to slack off if she wanted a good life after all.

She opens her lips to say all of this, to remind him that they can't all be pretty boy models like him some of them actually had to work for a living but instead she hears, "Fine. You're buying me something to eat."

He begrudgingly agrees after complaining, "Aren't you rich? Why do I have to buy you food?" She skips off ignoring his rationale, only stopping when she sees his motorcycle parked in the lot. She's always wanted to ride a motorcycle.

"Let's take your bike." She says confidently, not leaving him any room to refuse.

He looks at her unimpressed before a cheeky smile spreads across his face, "You've always wanted to ride with me huh? Do you have dreams about it at night?" He teases her and she lazily watches him before walking up to him, looking directly into his eyes. He unconsciously takes a step back and she smirks, stepping closer again.

" Are you nervous? Scared I might really be having dreams about you?" She watches his Adam's apple bob apprehensively before smacking him quickly on his cheek, he jolts in surprise.

"You wish pretty boy. Now get the keys, I don't have all day."

He gulps before snapping back to reality, wordlessly starting his bike.

The entire school watches as they ride off together, her arms wrapped tight around his waist the wind whipping through her hair. She's never felt anything so exhilarating.

Their lives become entangled, it's the only way to describe it somewhat accurately. She goes to his house for weekly dinners and sometimes her mom comes too, his mom is a great cook while hers can barely boil water. It's a win-win scenario. They also study together, his grades aren't horrific but they could be better. There isn't much ceremony, he stomps over telling some boy he needs that seat and she watches as the poor kid scrambles, grabbing all his book and running away apologizing the entire way.

"You have good grades right?" He says matter-of-fact less of a question and more of a statement before he pulls out actual textbooks from his bag. She rolls her eyes before nodding and turning back to her own studies. They study every Tuesday and Wednesday, he's always on time and treats her to tteokbokki. so she allows this transgression.

She knows immediately why he asked for help when she sees his math test magnetized to his refrigerator door, big red A- circled. His mother brags about his score all throughout dinner, even cheering for her when Seojun informs her that she got an A+ on the same assignment. They both blush as she gushes about how smart they are.

When the nightmares get too realistic and she can’t handle it alone anymore, he drops her off to therapy sessions and brings her to the gym after so she can release all her anger on a punching bag. He never asks her what's wrong but he drops her home after and the silence is comfortable between them.

They both never mention their dads but she goes to the cemetery with him and stands quietly as he pays his respect and takes him to get ice cream after, the dinner with his family after is somber but she wouldn't rather be anywhere else.

They never discuss what exactly is going on between them, they're just there for each other and that's enough.

At least she thought it was.

It's stupid but ever since they became...closer he's been getting more confessions than usual even for him they pour down like rain. Multiple girls a day sometimes as if they took numbers and decided to go in order, she dodges them at every turn but there's always a tinge in her chest and she contemplates going to the nurse because there must be something medically wrong with her.

She can barely taste the fried pork as she watches another girl shuffle over to their table, giant red heart box pressed tight against her chest as she approaches Seojun. His friends all notice and are chanting his name, elbowing and shouldering him excitedly.

“Han Seojun! Han Seojun!”

Su-ah suddenly places a warm hand on her knee, she looks at her in shock. Fear gripping at her as the other girl stares at her with gentle comforting eyes. She pushes the hand away. She doesn’t need comfort, she is fine. Fine.

Her throat tightens as the confession starts.

"Han Seojun, I-I've liked you since last year. Willyougooutwithme?" This isn't new, they usually lose their nerve at the end sputtering out their feelings all over him. She never sticks around long enough to hear his answers, but this time she has no choice; if she leaves that would be suspicious. It would give people the wrong impression.

She swallows her blueberry milk, he'd tossed it at her this morning saying he bought the wrong one. Coincidentally that was her favorite. It taste like chalk now on her tongue.

"Sorry, I'm not interested." He answers truly sounding apologetic, she shifts in her seat, pointedly staring at her food. Stifling her smile by stuffing cold noodles into her mouth.

There is a long silence as the cafeteria watches, all waiting for the girl’s reaction. Usually there are tears, loud wailing cries and pleading for another chance, but sometimes they are silent as they walk off heartbroken, friends waiting to soothe them.

The girl sighs, but unlike the others who usually scurry away, she speaks again, "Can I ask why? Do you already like someone?"

A thrumming energy fills the room following her question, girls all looking around at each other, preening hopeful that they've captured the heart of the resident bad boy. She just wants this uncomfortable moment to end already, it's giving her indigestion.

"Yes. I like someone."

It feels like a sledgehammer to her chest, ignoring Su-ah's hand clutching at hers she stands up grabbing her tray. Nobody pays her any mind besides her two best friends, she weakly smiles at them, "I'm all done. I'm gonna head to the library I'll see you both later."

She tosses out her tray viciously, forcing herself not to look back.

Avoiding him isn't easy, he's always there waiting for her or texting her to ask why she isn't coming over for dinner because his mother made her favorite. She's never lied to him before but she finds herself doing just that, feigning illnesses and late night classes. Which only results in him offering to bring her soup and give her a ride to said classes. Like she said their lives were for lack of a better word, entangled.

But she sticks to it, keeping her distance from him as she tries to understand why exactly she's doing this. He's her friend she should be happy that he likes someone, he was an idiot but it was probable that the feeling was mutual. He would finally have a girlfriend, someone to fill the spot she had been temporarily occupying. Someone he could bring home for dinners and someone to accompany him at his father's grave. Someone to talk to late at nights when he had a nightmare about losing his family and couldn’t fall asleep. Someone, not her.

"I'm happy for him. I should be feeling sorry for the poor girl he likes." She whispers to herself, aimlessly scrolling on her phone. Instagram has been a great source of distraction lately. As soon as she opens the app she sees a red dot pop up, a notification. She taps it seeing that she's been tagged in a photo, then another notification pops up and another and another and they start coming in too quickly for her to keep up.

"What the hell?" She admonishes aloud, clicking randomly on one of the notifications ready to see what's causing such an uproar.

It's a picture of her.

She remembers the day clearly, Seojun had forced her to go with him to a new diner that specialized in American cuisine, all so he could stuff his face with pancakes. She had no clue he'd taken a picture of her. Something that feels butterflies flutters in her stomach as she reads his caption.

How do you get a princess to forgive you?

Was this some kind of joke? What the hell was he thinking? She bulks at all the likes and comments on the photo after only two hours, she'd never gotten that much attention on a photo but she rarely posted pictures of her face. There were a lot of creeps online.

Nervously she taps to view the comments, it's a mixed bag of reactions. Girls she's never met before cursing her very existence as if she's a threat to their imaginary relationship with him and the very same creeps that caused her not to post selfies on her page posting disgusting sexual comments.

She instinctively taps to reply to rip them to shreds before she realizes that Seojun has already replied to every comment from a guy, threatening them explicitly and a few comments are even accusing him of deleting comments. There are a few comments calling her pretty but those are few and far in between and usually they are attacked in their replies by other jealous fan girls.

Anger bubbles in her gut, what the fuck was he thinking posting a picture of her for all these vipers to see?

Impulsively she taps the screen harshly, fingers flying across her keyboard.

Delete this now. Are you insane? Who are you calling a princess?!

Almost immediately she regrets her rash decision as comments flood in.

How dare you talk to oppa like that?

Oppa see she doesn't deserve you!

Who is this snotty bitch?

You're not pretty enough to be this stuck up honestly, no offense.

You should be happy a hot guy is posting you, ungrateful.

She's tempted to reply to each comment, who did think they were talking to, she wasn't some pushover, let's see if they would have this much gall to say this to her face. She'd taken on a gang of would be thugs, she had no problem beating some sense into some bitches.

But they're not worth her time or energy.

Swiping the app close, she takes a calming breath. Counting to three. Then five. Then ten. Then twenty. When her anger is nothing but a low thrum beneath her skin, she opens her contacts going to get favorites and clicking his name, bringing her phone to her ears.

"Finished ignoring me princess?" He answers smoothly, sounding far too relaxed for all the trouble he's caused. She wants to wring his neck.

"Have you lost your mind?" She cuts to the chase, huffing angrily as her phone buzzes with more notification. "Han Seojun you better delete that picture right now!"

"You've been ignoring my calls and texts and pretending you don't see me at school. What else was I supposed to do?" She can hear the strain in his voice, but he doesn't sound angry, no that's his hurt voice.

"I've just been busy. You didn't need to do something this... extreme."

He scoffs, clearly not believing her excuse. It sounds weak to even her own ears, they'd gotten too close they made time for each other, doing the most mundane things together, he even helped her clean her house sometimes and she would regularly help him shop for groceries.

"Come open your door. I think we need to talk."

He hangs up after his statement, leaving her to stare at her phone in shock.

"That little piece of shit." She curses, running a hand through her hair before she hops out of bed, running to open her apartment door. She slows down as she nears the door, not wanting him to think her too eager. She's not.

Running her hand through her hair again, she slowly pulls open the door. A breath swooshes through her lips at the sight of him, she's been avoiding him so much it's overwhelming to be staring at him directly like this.

They stare at each other, the air unexpectedly charged between them as their gazes meet.

"It's rude to leave someone standing outside." He quips finally, pressing past her before she can reply to his complaint, she huffs in annoyance stepped aside to give him entry.

Familiarly he toes off his boots, putting on the slippers her mom had purchased for him after his presence became more constant. Then he strides across the small space of her living room, sitting on her couch and glancing at her expectantly. She closes her door with a sigh, walking over and sitting in the single love seat. He stares at her hard. She struggles to keep his gaze.

"What did I do? Whatever it is, I'm sorry. If you tell me what it is, I probably won't do it again."

She's so taken back by his immediate apology that she stupidly focuses on the least important word in the sentence, "Probably?"

He shrugs in reply, "I like pushing your buttons. You like it too. So I can’t make promises until I know what I did.”

She can't argue with his assessment, they did have a very unusual relationship built on mutual sarcasm and backhanded compliments. They both were masters of never truly saying what they were thinking or feeling, too scared of rejection to make the final jump of fate. So they just kept crashing into each other, prodding and poking without recognizing why.

"I'm not mad at you." She admits, she has no reason to be upset. He hadn't done anything besides like someone else, that wasn't a crime. Unless the judge was her heart and then he had committed the most heinous of crimes.

"Then why are you avoiding me?" The crux of it all, she was avoiding him because he forced her to acknowledge the secret she'd kept so hidden even she was unaware of it until it hit her over the head.

"Why do you care so much?" She counters defensively, feeling naked under his penetrating stare.

He laughs coldly, "Answering my question with a question. Never took you for a coward Kang Sujin."

She bristles at the snide remark, who was he to call her a coward?

"If I'm a coward why are you here? Why post my picture on your Instagram? Don't you like someone, why are you here bothering me!" She hisses at him, each word gradually increasing in volume until she's screaming at his blank face. Then he starts laughing, pure unhindered laughter from his belly that stings her ears. She made herself too obvious.

"Aren't you supposed to be smart?"

"What do you mean by tha-" He cuts her off before she can finish shouting, "How do you not know that I was talking about you?"

Her voice drains like water slipping down a sink as she hears the words he said, she blinks before her mouth falls open in shock.

"Was I really letting you tutor me? What was I thinking?" He laments to the ceiling, mocking her but she's too riled up now already climbing out of her seat and striding over to him. He jolts backwards as she places her hands on his shoulders, searching his face and delighting at his wide eyes before climbing into his lap. He wheezes but his hand immediately latch onto her hips. She stares at him closely, eyes trailing from his hypnotic eyes, down to his lifted pert nose and lingering on his full plush lips.

"You like me." She states, watching how his eyes flutter shut before landing on her own lips.

"I thought it was very clear. Who else could I have been talking about, I spend all my time with you."

He's right, they did spend a lot of time together prior to her self-preserving decision to avoid him like the plague. She hadn't realized when her feelings for him had changed, thinking they were simply friends the entire time. A friend that she thought about constantly, who she wanted to spend all her time with and sometimes she's idly imagine kissing or holding his hand. She certainly hasn't expected anything.

But here he was offering. She wasn’t a good enough person to turn it down.

"I'm going to kiss you. Stop me if you don't want that." She states boldly, now that she knows this is on the table, he's on the table she is practically starving and all her doubts have transformed into the desire, the desire to touch and be touched. He glances at her, his patented 'are you stupid?' stare and she laughs before smashing their lips together. It's hard and a little uncomfortable, with their lips just roughly pressed together and she wonders if they're doing it right before his hands stroke her cheeks, tilting her head as he slows down the kiss until it's sweeter and softer and oh, is that his tongue? He swipes at her sealed lips and she only hesitates for a moment before slowly opening and allowing him entrance.

This takes the kiss to another level, as her head swims at his flavor- something spicy and earthy irrevocably Seojun that she finds addicting and she eagerly sticks her tongue into his mouth, licking at his moist cavern. Wet smacks fill the air as they suck at each other's face, his large hands nearly circling her waist entirely she shivers at the touch, feeling small and delicate in his arms. He reaches up a hand to caress her hair and she mimics the move, pushing her hand through his thick hair tugging at the end of his mullet. When they break apart, panting into each other's mouths she feels like her soul has been set ablaze.

"Since you're so smart I guess I don't have to tell you how I feel." She says trying to regain her composure and her breath, her lungs feel winded like she's run a marathon.

"Of course not. Everyone likes me, you're no exception." He replies cockily and she groans in exaggerated disgust pushing him away and clamoring out of his lap, but he tightens his grip with a deep chuckle easily manhandling her until they are laying on her couch, her back to his front. His breath is hot on her neck.

"My mom will be home soon, we can't stay like this." She warns reaching back to move his arm which is digging into her back, dragging his arm over her waist and squirming until she's comfortable.

"I know. We still have an hour. She's working overtime tonight."

Of course he knows her mom's schedule, she tries to smother her smile. She fails but nobody seems so she'll take it as a partial victory.

He reaches over her, grabbing the remote before switching on Netflix and putting on a movie they'd started before but never finished because she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He had complained about her drooling on his favorite sweater the next day at school, as she shushed him and people looked over at the odd pair.

"You're gonna delete that picture right?" She asks, only barely focused on the movie too distracted by his warmth behind her. She has to smother a moan when he starts stroking aimlessly on her waist. His fingertips igniting her skin in a warm burn that travels to her heart and lower.

"Humph why can't I have a picture of my girlfriend on my page?"

She turns around immediately, "Girlfriend? Who said anything about that," she rebuttals watching his eyes narrow until they're barely slits. She doesn't hate that look on him.

"You kiss someone who isn't your boyfriend like that?" She blushes at him mentioning that, the kiss still very vivid in her mind, her lips still tingling.

"Shut up." She huffs punching him in the chest, but he catches her hand and yanks her close until they're chest to chest, noses almost touching, lips a hair's breadth apart.

"I'm going to kiss my girlfriend, stop me if you don't want it." He echoes her earlier words, gripping the back of her head as he stares at her a clear challenge, smirking when she doesn't move away before he devours her lips again. She groans around his tongue in her mouth, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as their lips slide wetly against each other.

When the jingle of keys sound several minutes later, she tumbles off the couch frantically as her mom pushes the door open. She wipes her lips, before looking up at Seojun; he looks wrecked- hair tussled and sticking up in different directions, his cheeks are burning red looking hot to the touch and his lips are sore and wet. Her heart does a somersault in her chest at the sight.

Fuck. That's my boyfriend.

She lets him keep the photo on his account in the end, it keeps the hungry fan girls away and guys leave her alone for the most apart. She ignores his smirk when he sees her comment under the photo.

To everyone who has something to say, Han Seojun is mine. If you have a problem with that, come say it to my face.

Nobody ever comes to say it to her face.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous princess.” He teases her, and she scoffs at him, “You’re one to talk, didn’t you almost get into a fist fight today because someone commented that they wanted to ‘tap that’?”

He growls at the memory of that, only the principal strolling in had stopped him.

“You guys are perfect for each other, both deadly and gorgeous.” Su-ah adds gleefully pushing her way between them and linking arms on both sides.

She pushes his hand away when he immediately reaches for her, “Yah! Give me back my girlfriend!” He whines desperately trying to circumvent Su-ah and grab her hand, whining loudly about third wheels and people trying to get in the way of true love.

She’ll never get tired of hearing that.

She was Han Seojun's girlfriend and he was her boyfriend, everyone could stay mad.

#true beauty #true beauty kdrama #han seojun #kang sujin #junjin #junjin superiority #the power they hold #I would kill for a season 2 focused on them #fluff #first kiss #park yoona #hwang inyeop #idiots to usdiots

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catzula · 4 years

Text

Don’t be late.

Warnings: Cursing, 4.5 k words, fluff in general, Bakugou being a dumbass, reader is always late.

a/n: I genuinely had fun writing this fic and I hope you guys have fun reading it!

Synopsis: you're a student at the support section and since Bakugou literally drove everyone else insane, you were the last person that would help him with his costume. Little did he know that you had a crush on this sparky sparky boom man.

Everybody in the support section just hated that one guy. That guy named Bakugou who would practically harass people until he got what he wanted. Well, okay, almost everyone who knew Bakugou hated him but people in the support section hated him in a whole new level.

He was a nightmare. Nobody could even stand him.

Well, nobody except for you. You thought of him as intriguing, as well as a pain in the ass. But even him being a pain in the ass could be justified in your eyes, you knew he was doing all this simply because he was a perfectionist. Of course he could tone it down a bit, but... That would.be very out of character, wouldn't it?

He thought of himself as the best and it shouldn't be a surprise, for him to want to have a hero costume that was also perfect. You could understand that, but it still didn't change the fact that he was the worst kind of customer anyone would ever have to work with.

He had never worked with you though, he was in class 1/A for gods sake, of course he didn't work with you... Well, that until he ran out of people that would help him willingly.

"You know what? I'm done. Go fuck yourself." Were the words that echoed in the room, suppressing even those deafening machine sounds. Your friend threw Bakugou's costume in his face harshly, still cursing under his breath.

"Tch, whatever! You're just some extra that can't even do what I asked for." You watched Bakugou as his upper lip curled threateningly, reminding you of a wolf, and boy did he look pissed. Like, really pissed. His crimson eyes glaring at the guy in front of him, who was packing his supplies and trying to get away from this angry dude as soon as possible.

"That's the thing, Bakugou! What you want doesn't exist! I don't have these miraculous powers that when I snap my fingers your costume just turns into something else. You have to give me details of what you're asking and you have to ask something that makes sense! Not just some dumb idea that popped into your mind!" Everybody knew that was a lie. Bakugou always had the most amazing ideas, so creative and so... Logical. It's just that they were too... Much. To much to execute, they were brilliant but not doable.

"First of all, it does make sense, it's you who can't understand! Second of-"

"Whatever, Bakugou. I'm done with this shit. Go find someone else to help you with your costume."

"Who the fuck are you to not let me fucking talk? I will fucking kill you-"

"That's enough Bakugou." A monotone voice that came from the door made Bakugou freeze. You knew this black haired guy, he was the Eraserhead! You saw him around the campus but never from up this close!

Bakugou looked at his teacher, never losing that wolfish expression on his face, and he exited the room without saying anything, which was a first for everyone in this room. Eraserhead also exited, looking like he was about to go in a coma.

The room was still silent, until it wasn't.

"Oh my God, what a fucking jerk."

"I can't even believe how you managed to put up with him that long."

"He's not even that good."

Lie. That was a big fat lie because Bakugou may not be a lot of things but he was that good. Still, you chose to stay silent, your eyes still glued to the door he just exited from.

He amazed you, really. You noticed him the first time he came to the support section, his aura screaming confidence. He started to come there frequently, making everyone else go crazy, but you just kept noticing small details about him every time he came there. He was an asshole, no one could deny that, but he was also amazing.

It was amazing how determined he was, even though it was a pain, his perfectionism also left you in awe, how smart he was, how confident he was, how strong he was...

You realized your big crush on him the day you saw him on that sport festival. The other people thought it was so unheroic of him to go that hard on Uraraka, which was so stupid. Didn't she also want to be a hero? Wasn't she going to the same school as him, going through the same trainings? It was only normal for him to beat her, because if he didn't, she would have beaten him. Would people tell her it was so rude of her to go that hard on him too? No, you thought he was astonishing to act the way he did.

Him being so proud, not accepting the first rank made your heart beat faster. He was just so strong, so proud, so vulnerable it made you want to hug him tightly and tell him that he was your hero.

Not that you would ever have the chance though, or so you thought.

He came back not even after a few days, making everyone groan in frustration. He went straight to the table that displayed the recent projects that were done. The table existed to give an idea of what anyone could do so they could choose along shit what they had in mind. So that meant, who's item he chose would have to work with him. All of you eyed him, waiting to see who was the very unlucky person.

He picked one invention of the table, looking somewhat intrigued, and looked around the room trying to guess who it belonged to. When he couldn't guess he went to the nearest person and shoved the invention in their face. "Who does this belong to?!"

The person he was holding eyed the object he was holding suspiciously, relief written on his face when he saw it didn't belong to him. "I think that's Y/N's."

You could hear the sighs of relief around the room. So did he, but he didn't seem to care. Instead he walked towards you, he was so close you could smell-

Why on earth did he smell like... Caramel?!

"Is this yours?" You felt the tingling sensation of excitement all over your body, giving you goosebumps. "It is." You answered, which made him narrow his eyes, looking at you suspiciously.

"Is it really yours? You did this?" Now that was straight up rude. "Yes, it's really mine, asshole. What kind of a question even is that?!"

He shrugged shit a smug grin on his face. His eyes wandered over you, looking at your (e/c) eyes, your face, your figure, and his grin grew wider.

"I haven't seen you around here before." Ah, the angry boy was back. His upper lip curled ever so slightly, looking at you like you were some lowly human. "Oh yeah? Well I have seen you quite a lot here. You know, while you were making everyone else go crazy."

Your answer turned his face red with anger but -a miracle- he was holding back! You could see it was really hard for him not to scream insults in your face but he was aware that you were his last chance. Oh didn't that just boost your ego. Now it was your turn to look at him with a smug grin on your face.

"Whatever." He mumbled pulling you to the nearest table. "What are you-" Before he even let you finish he shushed you and lay down the papers he was holding on the table. You looked at what's on the paper, it was a costume drawing, a really detailed one at that. As you got closer to the paper, inspecting it, he was watching your every move with narrowed eyes.

After you memorised everything on the paper you bir your lip, trying to hide your admiration. "Did you draw this? Are these all... Your ideas?"

The drawing wasn't amazing but it was neat, everything was calculated to the very core, the ideas were so clear on the paper, making you feel like you only had to follow these instructions and do nothing else. "Yes, of course I drew them! Everything you see there is mine." He said angrily but you could see he wasn't actually angry, just proud.

"Well, they're pretty good, if I'm going to be honest." You said trying to hide your excitement. You traced the drawing with your finger.

"I know they are. But can you do it?" His smug grin was back and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at him. Could you do it?

You smiled sweetly and surely enough he smiled back, already knowing your answer.

"Nope."

His smile dropped, leaving it's place to a furious look in his eyes. "You dumbass, then why the fuck are you wasting my fucking time?!" He screamed, people around you shot you a knowing look. He pulled the paper of the table harshly, about to leave when you held his wrist and made him stop.

"Can you stop for a fucking minute and listen?" His eyes widened when he heard you cursing, a big contrast to your sweet tone and face. "I can't do this, but neither can anyone else."

"What the fuck does that mean?" He screamed making you winch. "Can you just- shut up for a second? This is not possible, get that in your bigass head. But-" you stopped thinking for a second. You shuffled around the drawers in search of a pen. "But, I can do this instead. This would be much more possible, and it would give you what you were aiming for. Of course it wouldn't be the same but the end product will be helpful."

You said quickly sketching your idea on the paper, as quick as possible before you forget what you were thinking about.

When he saw what you drew his burrows furrowed and for a second you thought he was mad at you but instead he huffed. "Tch, not bad I guess." He said, but internally he was so impressed that you actually came up with this alternative in a few seconds of so.

"Wait, does that mean you'll work with me?" You said eyes open wide. Well the question was more as, would you work with him, but he didn't say that. "If you can do it, I will."

"That's amazing, now I finally have a worthy client!" You said excitedly and on of his burrows went up, sending you an questioning look. "Worthy of... You?"

You shot him a killing glare but stayed quiet. "Let's work on this idea a little more, what do you say?"

He shrugged. "It's too noisy in here. Lets go to the library." He said ready to pull you out of the room but you shot a glance at your phone, pouting. "Can't, I gotta finish this side project today. Meet me at the library tomorrow? How is 4pm?"

He wasn't really happy since you couldn't work on it immediately but he had to be a little nice to you, not just because you were the last person that would actually help him, but your idea was also pretty good. "Tch, whatever. Don't be late."

You smiled sweetly, making his heart beat a little faster. Why did his heart beat this fast? Was this your quirk or something?

"Bye Bakugou." You waved as you started to sketch something on a sheet of paper.

***

Bakugou was sitting in the library, shooting angry glances at the clock. When he saw you coming towards him with a big smile on your face, your hands full of papers, books and stuff, he felt his heart jump. This had to be your quirk.

"Hey! So I worked on this idea we talked about yesterday and-" Before you even sat next to him you started to talk without even stopping to breath. "You're late." He murmured with and angry look in his eyes, you looked at your watch and smiled apologetically. "Oops, sorry, I was with Shinsou about- well that's not important is it? It's 5 minutes anyway."

Bakugou had always been an angry individual but today he could practically feel his explosions itching for him to release them. You saw the look in his eyes and laughed, "Hey, chill out. I'm sorry, alright? I'll make it up to you with a coffee, how does that sound?"

Bakugou didn't even like coffee but he couldn't refuse this offer either. "If you get there in time."

You laughed once again, a sweet sound that made Bakugou feel proud, even though he didn't even know why he was proud. "Yes, yes, I'll be there on time. But let's discuss this now." You lay the papers down, showing a few new sketches.

You both worked on it for a long time, even though it felt like a few minutes at most. You sometimes felt his gaze on you, instead of the paper in front of you, which made your cheeks flush red.

"So um-" you said, not really sure what to even say. "This was nice."

He had never heard anyone from the support section say that working with him was nice, but he still took the compliment. "Meet me at the coffee place tomorrow? Since it's weekend we can meet a little earlier too."

His eyes narrowed as he looked at you. It was weird having someone who actually wanted to work with him and it felt odd. A good type of odd, if he had to confess.

"Don't be late." He said.

You laughed. "I won't."

***

You were late.

Bakugou was about to go crazy waiting at the coffee shop. He felt so stupid for waiting for you but felt even worse for not being able to leave. His mind kept making you excuses, every time the door opened he felt his heart jump and that made him so angry at himself.

He was about to leave when the door opened once again, this time it was actually you entering. His eyes widened when he saw you, you looked incredibly pretty without any dust smeared on your face, your (h/c) hair in a cute style that enhanced your beautiful face and was that... Make up? He wasn't sure, hell, he never even realized any of these things before. But he couldn't take his eyes off of you and felt his anger die inside him.

You saw him and your eyes shined in a way that made him want to smile too, a cute smile was on your face when you came to his table.

"You're late!"

"That can't be I'm actually-" you checked the time and pouted. "Oh, I'm late."

His eyebrows furrowed, so he wasn't even important enough for you to actually show up on time? He was about to say something mean but held his tongue when you giggled. "I actually left the dorm an hour early to be here before you..." You shrugged. "Apparently I'm incapable of actually arriving anywhere at the time we agreed on. I hear this all the time, I just can't get anywhere on time!"

He felt a little better knowing it wasn't only him, but still. He was Bakugou Katsuki for Gods sake! He wasn't just someone, he was the future number one hero. Still, he couldn't help but feel good knowing you intended to be here early.

"Whatever." He said not looking at you. "No, I'm actually sorry!" You said biting your lip.

"It's whatever. Let's just get some coffee and get this shit done with." You felt a sharp pain in your chest, he wasn't wrong, but it felt bad hearing that from your crush. You should have known he wasn't actually interested in you, he wouldn't have chosen you if you weren't his last chance.

You still didn't let that spoil your mood, at the very end you were here, drinking coffee with him, weren't you?

"Well, what would you like to drink?" You asked, taking your wallet out of your handbag. His eyes shined with anger when he saw what you were doing.

"Like hell I'll let you pay for it!" He said, stopping you.

"But this is for making you wait yesterday!" Feeling his hand holding you made your heart jump. "And well... Today too." You added.

"I don't care, I said I won't let you pay, and I won't."

"But-"

"Stop arguing for fucks sake!" You closed your mouth at that. "O-okay. Well I'll have (your favorite beverage)." You saw him smile at your answer and stood up.

You were trying to calm yourself while he was buying you coffee, didn't even realize someone was calling your name. "Y/N!"

A hand touched your shoulder, making you jump in surprise. It was a certain indigo haired boy who looked very much sleep deprived. "Oh, Shinsou!" You smiled sweetly. You have helped him a lot before, which ended with you guys being close friends.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, even though it was a stupid question, he was addicted to coffee. "Well, duh." He said, shaking the carton of coffee on his hand. You smiled at that. "But what are you doing here?" He looked around to see anyone familiar that you could be waiting for. He saw Bakugou ordering coffee, but it was such an impossible thing for both of you to be together so he didn't even think about it.

"Well I uh..." You didn't even have time to answer when an angry boy came close to your table. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

Shinsou's eyes widened ever so slightly looking at the angry boy, and then back at you. "You're here with him?"

"You got a problem with that?" Bakugou asked, taking his seat right across you.

"Well, we're working on his costume." You said sensing the tension.

Bakugou scoffed, apparently not happy with your answer. "Well, okay. I'll see you around?" Said Shinsou, you could understand why he was walking away, since his motto was stay out of drama. "Yeah, sure!" You smiled sweetly, feeling a little bad because you felt like you were dusting him away.

"Are we gonna start working or not?!" You flinched when you heard him scream, a sinking feeling reminding you once again, he wanted nothing to do with you other than working on his costume.

"Sorry." You mumbled. "So I um, worked on this a little more after you left and I think it would be much better if we changed this to this. Because otherwise it would be too heavy."

Bakugou scoffed. "Hah, I can handle heavy." You glanced at him, surprised by his unnecessary narcissism. "Yeah, I know. But still, wouldn't it be better if it were lighter?" He stayed still for a while then shrugged.

"Tch, whatever." Oh, you were starting to see a pattern here. Maybe it wasn't just unnecessary narcissism, but more like... Trying to impress you?

"Are you training today too?" You asked, just testing the waters. "Of course I am! If I'm going to be the number 1 hero, I gotta train every fucking day."

You tapped your chin with your finger. "That's true. Although I've seen you train before and it looked pretty intense." And that was true. He was training so hard it made you shudder just thinking about it.

"Oh, you were watching me?" Oh, shit. You tried to ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks. "Well I wasn't watching you specifically, but it was so... Extra so I may have looked your way once or twice." You tried to cover. But the smug grin on his face told you he didn't believe it a bit.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say."

"So, what do you think? Should I change this part? Oh and I thought it would be better if we did this too-" You stopped talking when you felt his eyes lingering on you, instead of the paper. "Bakugou?" You said smiling. "Why are you staring at me?"

"I'm not staring at you!" He shouted, your smile dropping almost instantly. "Why the fuck would I even stare at you?!" His hands were tight fists on the table, his red eyes reminding you of flames. Your eyes widened at his response and you forced a laugh.

"Well, ouch." You said with the same forceful laugh. "I- I wasn't implying anything, you know..." You mumbled.

"I- I..." This was the first time you have seen Bakugou in a loss of words. You shrugged. "Yeah, I know, you want to get this over with as soon as possible."

That was far from what he wanted to say but he accepted it nonetheless.

You both worked on it for hours, once again the time passed quickly, felt like it was a blink of an eye. "That was intense." You said while stretching a bit.

"Well, that was it. We finished the whole design and idea process and I'll take it from here."

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean by I'll take it from here?"

You shrugged. "I just have to actually do this now, so we don't really have to meet like this." Why did Bakugou feel that sting in his chest? For Gods sake, what the fuck was your quirk?

"Y/N." He said that made you stop stretching. Hearing your name from him made your heart beat faster. "What the hell is your quirk?"

"My quirk?" You asked, a little surprised at the sudden question.

"Yes!"

"Well it's not a big quirk. I can manipulate shadows." You shrugged. Your quirk had never came off as handy but it was fun to change the shapes of people's shadows and seeing their reactions.

Bakugou desperately tried to find a relation with your quirk and this weird sensation he felt every time you smiled but he couldn't find any.

"That's a dumb quirk." He said instead. You giggled, surprising him. "It is, but I don't really need a quirk to be special, I can work without it just fine."

His brow quirked up at your response. "If you say so."

***

Everyday for the next week, Bakugou had visited you in your workspace. "I want to see if you're doing a good fucking job." He said when you asked him why.

He stayed with you as long as he could, telling you about his day, about those damn extras in his class, with the exception of "Deku." He was talking about Deku like he wasn't even a part of the class. You knew he was talking about Izuku Midoriya, that green haired shy guy who broke a limb every time he used his quirk. Oh, Bakugou talked about him a lot, with great hatred too.

But even though he was just rambling, you loved to listen to him. And even though he never even implied it, you knew he liked watching you work too. It was probably because he was interested in how his costume was coming up but you still enjoyed it very much.

But the truth was that he had almost completely forgotten about his costume. He was coming to see you every day, every chance because you... You just understood him. But Bakugou was so foreign to these feelings, it made him feel scared and vulnerable.

You weren't aware of any of this, of the internal crisis he was having, so you were surprised when he suddenly stopped showing up.

You couldn't really work too, since your eyes were practically glued to the door, waiting to see a glimpse of the spiky blonde hair, but you never did.

The day you were done with the costume, you texted him. You tried to look as good as you could, cleaned the dust off of your face and your uniform, wore your best perfume only to see someone else who came instead of him to pick the costume up.

It was Kirishima, you had chatted with him before, he was a pretty cute guy, and you knew from your daily chats from Bakugou he liked him too. So just seeing him reminded you of Bakugou which made your mood even worse.

"Is... Is Bakugou okay?" You asked.

You saw the uncomfortable look on his face and you knew Bakugou was avoiding you. "He- he- he is okay... He's just-" You sighed but smiled nonetheless. "It's okay, I understand." His eyes widened. "You do?!"

You shrugged. "He's done with me, I see that. I had the same treatment from some other students too, although it's not very nice, is it? Still, say hi to him for me please."

"It's- it's not like that, he's just-" Kirishima looked a little embarrassed but mostly panicked and you couldn't help but giggle. "It's okay, I'm just happy I could help him."

When Kirishima went back to the dorms, only to find Bakugou on the couch looking at his phone, he was pissed.

"Dude you must be the dumbest person alive."

"Who the fuck are you calling dumb, shitty hair?!" Bakugou jumped from the couch, about to end Kirishima once and for all but Kirishima wasn't having it. "You! I'm calling you dumb! I took your costume from YN, the girl you have been avoiding like the plague, and I was embarrassed for you!"

Kirishima saw Bakugou stiffening as he mentioned your name and smiled knowingly. "Bakugou, if you don't go there and talk to her I will kick your ass."

"You can't kick my ass, idiot." Bakugou answered gruffly.

"Oh but I can. Go fucking talk to her dude! She asked about you, you know? What you're doing is so fucking unmanly." Kirishima gave Bakugou the costume he was holding and Bakugou could swear he could smell your scent on it.

"You call me unmanly one more fucking time and you won't have a tongue to call anyone unmanly. I am the definition of manly."

"Not with that attitude you're not."

"Who the fuck are you, my mother or something?" But Bakugou knew Kirishima was telling the truth, and he just couldn't get rid of this stupid feeling in his chest. Yet, he had thought that if he just stopped seeing you, he would never feel this way ever again. He was wrong. Oh, he had thought of you almost every second of the day, his heart feeling heavier with every second he didn't see you and it was more than he could bear.

He knew what he had to do, he just didn't have the courage before.

"I think- I have to go." He said practically running to the door. He passed the now entering Kaminari with such force and speed, Kaminari almost lost his balance. "Woah, where the fuck is he going?" He asked looking at the grinning Kirishima.

"You'll see." Was his answer.

***

You were about to leave the workshop, later than usual but you didn't really mind working a little longer, anything that would take your kind off of him, you accepted gratefully.

All of that until you heard his voice.

"YN!"

You jumped not expecting this at all. Your eyes widened when you saw the face you had longed to see for almost a week, and there he was, cheeks flushed like he had ran all the way here.

And you knew why he was here. You weren't stupid, the look in his eyes just gave it away. So a smile found its way on your lips, the sweetest smile he had ever seen that made him feel like he could die right than and there.

"Bakugou!" You said, walking towards him. "You're late."

#bnha scenarios #mha imagines #bakugou x reader #bnha x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou imagine #mha bakugou #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #katsukibakugou

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summonerscenarios · 3 years

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Ello! I can't get this out of my head but I like to imagine the protag loving to draw and doodle, and when they run out paper they draw using marker on their arms or legs and wanted to know how the rest of the summoners would react to seeing the protag show up to class one day with their arms covered up with random doodles they drew on themselves the night before out of boredom dksbsksns

Shiro knows about your doodling habits - during meetings he’s watched you doodle patterns on your fingers and hands as you listen to the latest news and updates, and just as often has watched you after said meetings having to viciously scrub it off over the safehouse sink because of the stains using markers and pens have left behind on the tables. It’s never been too much of an issue though, since you only resort to doodling on yourself when you’ve got no paper on hand, so Shiro’s been mindful of having a notebook or two stowed away at the safehouse for you to doodle on while you’re there. With that being said, that only accounts for the safehouse and not whenever you’re not there, so keeping up your paper supply in your room has always been your responsibility. So when you run out, on top of being bored in the late hours of the night, you end up drawing patterns on your fingers, then your palms, then the back of your hands, then your forearms...With class being on the next morning you’d had to rush out of your room before you’d had the chance to clean up your arms, so when the Summoners see you there’s a mixed bag or responses. Shiro just about topples out of his chair when he turns around as sees you enter the classroom, grinning as you offer the Summoners a wave and move to toss your bag onto your seat. Your arms are covered in drawings, all the way up from your hands to your elbows and disappearing under your shirt - he’s never seen you get so far up your arms with your doodlings before, and many of them are so neatly packed together you could almost say they looked like tattoo stencils. Most of the marks stick to one color, but there’s a couple that differ and those are the ones with more detail - clearly, you’d gotten carried away on them, but not in a bad way. Even though they’re only temporary, Shiro has a feeling that if one of the stricter teachers catches you, you’re going to end up getting an earful about the drawings and tells you that it might be a good idea to roll your sleeves down just in case one of them’s teaching this class. Sure enough, Mr.Triton comes in not a moment later and you drop your arms from your desk, tugging your sleeves back down to your wrists as you cast Shiro a sheepish grin at the close call.

Kengo has absolutely let you draw on him whenever you’ve run out of paper at the guild house - his arms are thick and broad giving you more than enough space to doodle just about anything you want. It’s gotten the two of you scolded more than once because he wouldn’t tell you to stop and you could quite easily doodle up to his elbows if left unsupervised, but of course this is mostly outside of school hours since you’ve got plenty of paper to doodle on when you’re in school or at your dorm. So that’s why Kengo does a double take when you come strolling into class covered right up to your elbows (and probably above if he’d have to guess) in just about every color marker that you possess. Kengo doesn’t even need to ask you why your arms are covered in scribbles, instead when you sit down Kengo shuffles his desk as close to yours as he can, asking if you’d brought any of those pens with you. In response you smirk, fish around in your pockets, and retrieve some metallic markers as you gesture for him to budge closer and uncap the gold stationary. It’s a miracle the two of you don’t get caught, considering you’re exchanging harsh whispers, with you biting back snickers as you chide him to keep still, and him trying to flex his arm because you’ve kept it pinned in one place for so long. You have to admit, the metallic markers look damn good on him, a mix of bronze, gold and silver making for some cool looking patterns against his skin by the time that you’re satisfied enough with your work to stop. You’re just thankful that the two of you don’t get called out on your arms, but you don’t stick around long enough to get stopped anyways, the two of you booking it the second that the bell rings and down the hall as Kengo brags about the new penwork you’ve given him.

Ryota loves to doodle with you! Whenever you’re drawing at guild meetings you’re quick to offer him one of your pens or markers and shuffle next to him so that the two of you can draw things together. He thinks you’re way more talented at it than he is, but he likes seeing how happy you get whenever you’re doodling, and he enjoys hearing you praising the drawings he makes by the time that the two of you have filled in just about every spot of the page. Sometimes he’ll see you drawing on your hands, but you never draw any higher than your wrist and he honestly thinks that your drawings look so pretty on your skin, especially the ones where you use bright colored ink! He just thinks it's sad you have to wash away all that hard work by the time you’re done, so you end up taking a picture of them whenever you make a new pattern on your hands. However, for what it’s worth he’s never seen you doodle on your hands in class, maybe because you could probably end up getting told off if you got caught doing it in lesson. That soon changes when you end up having to rush into class after staying up late doodling, not having the chance to clean up your arms by the time you have to leave to get in on time. You hadn’t even thought about rolling down your sleeves until you enter the room, and you can see Ryota’s expression light up at the sight of your arms when you drop down into the seat next to him, sleeves up to your elbows revealing a fraction of the doodles that now decorate your skin. He leans over to look at them, wondering how long it took you to finish drawing on your arms - everything looks so detailed! You must have been up for ages last night to get them all done! You nudge one of your arms against Ryota’s comparing your doodled arm to Ryota’s significantly less doodled one and hum in thought; then, you reach into your pocket and dig around for one of your pastel markers, pulling it out and showing it to him as you ask if he wants some. By the time the class is over Ryota’s got some pretty yet subtle new doodles thanks to you, fanning out across his palm, back and fingers ending just shy of his wrist; he’s happy as he admires them, and you can’t help but find yourself smiling at how good the patterns look on him as you fish out your phone, reaching out for his marker covered hand with your own and interlocking your hands as you snap a few pics to commemorate your newest doodles.

Toji nearly chokes when he sees your arms, not realizing that they’re drawings until you sit down and rest your arms on your desk, doodle covered fingers tapping on your desk as you wait for the class to start. Similar to Shiro, he’d say that it would probably be a good idea to cover up your drawings lest you want to get scolded by the teacher, only to watch you shrug and grin in response. Toji does allow his eyes to wander over some of your drawings, and for what it’s worth they are rather visually appealing; some of the markings are flowers, detailed lines to make up specific patterns, and others are scribbled words hidden between blocks of art close to the inside of your elbow. It’s clear you let your creativity run away with you when you were drawing, though he’s sure drawing them on paper would avoid the future hassle of trying to scrub them all off when the time came. You catch him staring and tug your sleeves up a little further, saying that if he thinks those are cool he should see the ones on your legs - you had a way bigger canvas to work on the little details on the images you drew. Toji gives you an incredulous look, searching for your bluff, but he realizes it’s not when you reach down you tug up your pant legs. He doesn’t get the chance to see the doodles in question when the teacher walks into the classroom, and at the sight of Mr. Triton you just about yank your sleeves down, flashing a convincing innocent smile as you greet the teacher like nothing’s out of place, catching Toji shaking his head out of the corner of your eye.

Moritaka has seen you draw on both your own skin as well as others whenever you’re bored and have no paper to use; however, he’s never seen you doodle anywhere past the wrist, sticking to just the palm of your hand or your fingers since you don’t always have time to sit down and focus when you’re not at school or at the dorm rooms. Which is precisely why he doesn’t expect you to come into class with pen markings up your arms, past your elbows, and even disappearing into your shit. When you take a seat next to him, Moritaka turns to greet you briefly, only just catching sight of your arms on your desk when he turns back to face the front. He looks again, then again, and by the third time his eyes are comically wide as he tears his gaze away to look at your face, brows raised as he looks into your face for some kind of explanation. Your only explanation is that you were almost late and didn’t have the time to scrub it all off before you had to get into lesson, though you take advantage of the opportunity to show him some of your favorite doodles. Leaning over to his desk you show him some of the things that you were able to draw the night before, still as vibrant as when you’d first drawn them; on one section there’s even a collection of flowers close to the center of your hand, with one of them being a peony that you can’t help but quip that it looks pretty close to Moritaka’s mark. You remark that you guys can match now and Moritaka finds himself chuckling a little at how proudly you show them off; though you unfortunately don’t have the time to show him much more than that, as being close to the front when the teacher walks in you drop your hands into your lap to hide the majority of marks, whispering to the therian that you can show him all the rest once class is over.

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