#nope doesn’t seem to already exist

[goblin-enjoyer]

Controversial TADC take but pomni should totally get to do flayed one stuff once a week for her mental health.

[heeology]

god, you're annoying | l.hs

synopsis → ever since you and heeseung have come into each others' lives, he has been asking you out and flirting with you nonstop. for years, the cycle of him confessing his feelings to you and you rejecting every single one of his advances seems as though it has gone on forever. being fed up, you develop a plan to pretend as though you already have a boyfriend (spoiler alert: it doesn’t end well). after years of continuously trying to get heeseung off of your radar, you just can’t seem to get rid of him and suddenly (to your surprise), you find yourself not being bothered as much by his presence.

feat. → yeonjun (txt), yunjin (le sserafim), beomgyu (txt), minjeong (aespa), jake (enhypen), sunghoon (enhypen), jay (enhypen)

genre → university AU, enemies to lovers, romance, smut

pairing → nonidol!heeseung x fem!reader

warnings → MDNI, kinda long but bear w me pls

w.c. → 9k

disclaimer!! → any other idols mentioned in this story (that I portray are dating) i do not ship irl; this story is a work of fiction a.k.a. something derived from my delusions and imagination, take this story lightly pls and thx.

!!DO NOT COPY OR REPOST!!

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-

Everyday you walk onto campus and make sure you avoid eye contact with a “certain someone” and even though the outcome always remains the same, you still hope that one day it will actually make a difference. Unfortunately for you, on your campus, there is only one way to get to your morning class which makes this “certain someone” rather happy to know that you practically have to see him everyday. Although you try your best, he never fails to call out your name, even if you try hiding behind other people; he can spot you from a mile away. This, you find to be annoying. He, however, looks forward to this moment every day because what other reason is there to get up early in the morning if it means he doesn’t get to see you?

You hear him call after you as you try to quickly make your way to your first class which, luckily for you, does not include him. You can hear his footsteps hurrying towards you making you break out into a light jog to your classroom door that is just ahead. You reach for the door handle and open it just enough to let yourself in and as you are about to close it behind you, a hand from the other side stops you, forcing it back open enough for you to be face-to-face with the one and only bane of your existence: Lee Heeseung.

He gives you a cocky smile receiving an eye roll from you as you can already hear his irritating voice begin to say a bunch of sentences and words that you couldn’t care any less about because you couldn’t care any less about him. Heeseung is fully aware about how you feel about him and although some most of his actions are–-yes, he’ll admit–-advertently creepy, he means no harm. You, of course, don’t see it that way, but that doesn’t stop him. 

“You didn’t hear me calling your name?” he asks, knowing that you did and also knowing that you ignored him, but he just wants to hear any snarky reply you have because that’s the only time when you actually acknowledge his presence. 

“Nope, must’ve missed it.” you say in a fake sympathetic tone. 

He lets out a “hmm” and you mock him. He smirks, leaning a little closer to you. You would move away, but then you figured he might take that as his chance to open the door more, so you decide to stay put. 

“I was just wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner with me. There is this restaurant that my family and I only go to on special occasions and I think you’ll really like it.”

There it is, him asking you to the same stupid restaurant that you have said no to many (and you mean many) times before. You know what restaurant he is talking about, some way overpriced place that only really rich people go to. You clenched your jaw as your hand gripped the edge of the door a little tighter. He smiled at you, which you thought was him being smug, but rather it was him anticipating your answer. He meant what he said and he just wants to be given a chance to show you how much he likes you. 

Him asking you out to this restaurant, always offering to buy your lunch, pay for your snacks, or buy you some other object just felt as him rubbing his money in your face, making all of his attempts seem as though they are a joke; that you are a joke. Ever since middle school, when you and Heeseung had first met, he made his “crush” on you apparent, which all of the other kids found to be funny and ridiculous. You know he doesn’t actually like you and you hate him for still acting like this even though you both are now grown adults and not eleven year old children who still ride in the car with their parent on their way to school everyday. 

“Well, if you think I’ll like it, then I’ll surely hate it.” you reply.

“You’re only saying that be-”

“No, Heeseung, I will not go out with you and for the last time: stop bothering me.” you say sternly.

You scowl at him and he can’t help but find you to be adorable. He knows you’re annoyed by him, but there isn’t anyone else he would rather spend his time with other than you, even if his only way to spend time with you is by pestering you constantly. 

“I’m just going to ask you again tomorrow.” he says with a smile.

You knew he wasn’t joking about that and that made your blood begin to boil. You hated having to be bothered by him, you hated feeling like a joke, you hated seeing his stupid face everyday, and you hated how it seems like he doesn't even care. You have to put a stop to this, you simply can’t take it anymore. But how? You’ve tried everything, what other way could there possibly be? Then it clicked. You stood up straighter, looking him directly in his eyes. He found himself a little taken aback by your sudden eye contact, but didn’t want to show it; to show how you make him flustered and blush just by simply looking at him.

“Heeseung, I have a boyfriend.” you say, trying not to smile.

You don’t know how you didn’t think of this before, but you’re overjoyed that the idea finally came. His smile drops–for a split second–as he felt the wind practically get knocked out of him like someone had just suckerpunched him in the gut. You were bluffing, you had to be…right?

“Pfft, I don’t believe you.” he says, letting go of the door, only to cross his arms and lean against the doorframe.

You feel your face become hot as you stand your ground, “And what exactly makes you say that?”

“I’ve never seen you with your “boyfriend”.” he says, making air quotes.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have one.”

“Well it surely doesn’t mean that you do.”

“I know you stalk me because you have nothing better to do with your life, but that doesn’t mean you know what I do every second of the day.”

He shrugs his shoulders, not buying a word that you are saying. He keeps telling himself that you are lying, but what if that small percentage of possibility actually means you are telling the truth? He doesn’t want to think about that, he has to believe that you are lying.

“Okay, what’s his name, then?” he asks, confident that you won’t have an answer.

Shit. How do you answer that? You try not to show your worry in your expression and quickly try to come up with an answer. You open your mouth to speak, hoping the words that do end up coming out make sense.

“Yeonjun.” you reply.

Well, you said a name and that’s all that counts. Sure, it’s the name of your best friend’s boyfriend, but she won’t mind if you use him for a lie…right? Now it’s Heeseung’s turn for him to clench his jaw. He scoffs, rolling his eyes before looking back at you.

“Then how come I’ve never seen you with him on campus?”

“Because he goes to another school, idiot.”

“How did you two meet?”

“Through my best friend; they go to school together.”

You could see him become more annoyed with your answers as you tried to say them with as much confidence as possible. 

“I still don’t believe you.” he says, less certain of what he is saying than before.

You’re so close and you know it, you just need to say something that will make him back-off once and for all.

“I’ll have him bring me to school tomorrow.” you said, now being the one to cross your arms as you smiled smugly.

Heeseung felt his blood run cold, terror now coursing through his veins. Were you actually telling the truth? He didn’t want to see you with some other guy, most definitely not someone who you are claiming to be your boyfriend. The thought made him both upset and annoyed. What do they have that he doesn’t? He’s the one who has been trying to show how much he likes you for years now and some rando comes in and sweeps you off of your feet? Over his dead body.

“Okay,” he says while standing up from leaning on the door, “I can’t wait to see you and a bunch of air walk into school tomorrow.”

“You still think I’m lying?”

He shrugs his shoulders, looking away before looking back at you.

“I just find it hard to believe.”

“That I have a boyfriend?”

“You could say that.”

Man, you couldn’t wait to prove him wrong (even though he is technically right). You fake laugh at his reply and stop as you grab his hand. He feels butterflies erupt in his stomach from your sudden contact and is so distracted that he isn’t even paying attention to what you are doing, which is putting his hand on the door frame. You plaster on a fake smile before quickly swinging the door shut. He snaps out of his daze and moves his hand out of the way just in time before it could have been smashed by the door. 

-

Beomgyu didn’t think to even hold back his laughter once the words left your mouth and although the music in the club was blaring through the speakers, you could still hear his piercing voice. The others, however, were a little more surprised to hear what you had said, especially Yunjin and Yeonjun. You had a guilty smile on your face as you exchanged glances between the two and then Yeonjun scoffed. He raised his glass in a ‘cheers’ manner and Yunjin slapped his shoulder.

“It’s honestly not that bad of a plan,” Minjeong says, trying to defuse the tension, “Yunjin, you know better than any of us here how badly this guy bothers her.”

Yunjin sighs before she chugs the rest of her drink from her cup. “You can borrow my boyfriend on one condition: it doesn’t go too far.” She says, pointing between you and Yeonjun. 

You both look at each other and cringe. Yeonjun puts his arm around Yunjin and she smiles. He kisses her temple, “As if that would ever happen.”

“So how exactly are you going to convince him?” Yunjin asks.

You chug the rest of your drink, wincing as the alcohol burns your throat. “Is it cool if Yeonjun takes me to school tomorrow? I was thinking all he has to do is walk me to my class and just essentially tell Heeseung to back off.”

“He’s not going to do it unless he believes it.” Beomgyu points out as he leans back into the booth.

“He’s right, him walking you into school isn’t going to be enough to convince him; he sounds persistent.” Minjeong agrees.

“The most he is allowed to do is kiss you on the cheek to make it believable, but that’s it.” Yunjin says looking at Yeonjun to make sure he understands.

“I don’t get a say in whether or not I agree to this?” Yeonjun asks, looking at everyone, but landing on you.

“No.” the rest of you say in unison.

He laughs before finishing his drink. “Okay. I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.”

-

Even as Yeonjun pulls his motorcycle to a stop in front of your campus, he can still feel your fingernails practically digging into his stomach. 

He lifts up the visor on his helmet, “Can you please stop trying to claw your way into my intestines?”

You let go of him all together and he lets out the breath that he has been holding in. 

“Sorry.” you say, it sounding muffled under the helmet. He smiles, taking off his helmet after getting off the bike. He sets his helmet down and holds out his hand for you to take. You take it, him helping you off, before he helps you take off the helmet. “Thanks.” you say and he shrugs his shoulders as a reply. 

He glances over his shoulder, noticing people looking at him and you, whispering. “So, which one is the stalker?” he asks, trying to be discreet.

You turn your head to look, not seeing Heeseung anywhere, oddly enough. You scoff, “The one day he isn’t here is the day that you bring me.” you roll your eyes and Yeonjun shrugs.

“Well, see you later.”

“Woah-wait. I still need you to walk me.” you say, grabbing one of his shoulders to stop him from leaving.

“What? Why? You just said he isn’t here.”

“That doesn’t mean that I don’t need reinforcements.”

Yeonjun groans, but turns back around to face your campus. You clear your throat before reaching to hold his hand. You intertwine your fingers, looking at each other through the corners of your eyes, confirming that you’re ready to go. You walk hesitantly at first, but the further you get, Yeonjun releases his hand from yours to put his arm around you. Low and behold, once you made your way to the front of your class, Heeseung was there waiting right beside the door.

He, of course, hadn’t been there the whole time. He was pacing back and forth in the bathroom before working up the courage to actually make his way to your class, a part of him hoping he had just missed you so he wouldn’t actually have to see you with someone else. Yet there you are, walking up to him (well, your class), with some dude who looked like he was trying too hard to be cool with his arm around you. He felt sick and the closer you came, the more he felt like vomiting. 

You smiled, stopping in front of your class door with Yeonjun. 

“Oh Heeseung, you’re actually here, I thought you chickened out.”

He smiles, annoyed. His gaze shifts over to Yeonjun and Yeonjun smirks.

“So this is Heeseung?” He asks, eyeing him up and down.

Heeseung pokes his tongue in the side of his cheek. He looks back at Yeonjun and eyes him up and down before crossing his arms. Although he currently feels sick to his stomach, he’s still a little suspicious. 

“Am I supposed to believe you’re her boyfriend?”

Yeonjun scoffs, crossing his arms, “You can believe what you want,” he steps closer to Heeseung, leaning close to his ear making Heeseung tense up, “but you better stop messing with her regardless.”

He pulls back, smiling at Heeseung and patting one of his shoulders. Heeseung scowls, wiping off his shoulder as Yeonjun turns to you. You smile at him, ignoring Heeseungs glares.

“Have a good day, babe.” he says before kissing you on your cheek. He glances back over his shoulder before snickering at Heeseung and walking away.

You smile proudly at Heeseung while he looks at you in complete and utter shock. Did he just see what he think he just saw? He couldn’t believe it, he didn’t want to believe it. 

“Well,” you say, making him snap out of his thoughts, “you heard him: stop bothering me.” you say before going into your class.

-

“I heard from some people that he has a motorcycle and he brought her on it today.” Jake says while taking some food off of Sunghoon’s tray, earning a glare from him.

Heeseung rolls his eyes, clenching his fork harder in his hand. “I don’t get it, he’s not even her type.”

Sunghoon laughs and Heeseung scowls at him. “How would you know? You’re not exactly close with her.”

“I think it’s time for you to just leave her alone, you’ve been bugging her since we were kids.” Jay comments.

Heeseung goes quiet. Should he give up? He reminisces about the time he first saw you, laughing with your friend, and the only thing he could think about was how pretty you look when you smile. He isn’t the type to hide how he feels and he thought you would be pleasantly surprised by how open he is about how he feels about you, but when you rejected him after he bought you your favorite drink, he was confused. He didn’t want to give up, though, because all he wanted was to be able to make you laugh just like when he first saw you.

“Jay’s right, the joke has gone on for long enough.” Jake adds.

Heeseung looks up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Joke? What are you talking about?”

Before Jake can answer, a girl walks up and takes a seat in one of the open chairs at the table. Everyone’s eyes go to her as she smiles.

“Hi,” she says shyly, “Heeseung, can I speak with you privately?”

“No, thanks.” he replies, continuing to eat his food.

Jake tries to suppress his laugh and Jay kicks him from under the table. Jake’s smile falls as he kicks Jay back.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.” Jay warns.

“You started it.” Jake mumbles.

“Well, I was just wondering,” everyone looks back at the girl, momentarily forgetting she was even there, “if you would like to get coffee with me after school.” she says, moving some of her hair behind her ear.

“No, thanks.” Heeseung says in the same uninterested tone as before, not bothering to spare her another glance as he continues eating.

She sits there, a little taken aback as an awkward silence settles. Sunghoon clears his throat before taking another bite of his food. The girl stands up and walks away, not bothering to push back in the chair; Jay and Jake watch her as she leaves.

“She was cute, why did you say no?” Jake asks.

“We know why.” Jay says, drinking some of his water.

“You’ve been turning down every girl that asks you out for years, don’t you want to at least try and date someone?” Jake asks.

Heeseung groans and sets down his fork. “What’s the point? No one else is worth the time.”

-

“You all should have seen his face.” Yeonjun beams as you and your friend group continue roaming throughout the mall.

“So, it worked?” Minjeong questioned and you nodded your head happily.

“I didn’t see him for the rest of the day and he didn’t say anything else once Yeonjun left.” you replied happily.

“And there was nothing more than a kiss on the cheek?” Yunjin questioned.

“Of course.” Yeonjun says, kissing her quickly.

You and the others groan as they both just smile at each other. 

“Oh!” Minjeong says, grabbing your hand. You look at her and then the store she was looking at, “They finally restocked the perfume I was telling you about.”

“I can’t afford that.”

She rolls her eyes, “You can’t, but I can, now come on.” she says, pulling you with her.

“I’d rather not be stuck with you two sickos, so I’m going to go with them.” Beomgyu states to Yunjin and Yeonjun before heading off to follow you and Minjeong. 

Yeonjun grimaces and mocks Beomgyu as he walks off and Yunjin laughs.

As much as Heeseung would rather have gone home straight after classes than come to the mall to help Jake pick out a new keyboard, he came anyway due to his friend’s consistent pestering. 

“You’re paying me back for gas money, I hope you know that.” Heeseung mumbles.

Jake scoffs, “You’re richer than I am, besides, friends carpool other friends.” Heeseung rolls his eyes as he and Jake make their way to the store. Heeseung opens his mouth to say something, but is caught off guard by loud giggling coming across from where he and Jake are. Both of them look in the direction of where the noise is coming from to see Yeonjun and Yunjin laughing, her hitting his shoulder playfully and him scattering kisses on her face. Heeseung stops dead in his tracks. Jake stops walking and looks between Heeseung and the couple. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

Heeseung could feel anger surging through his body. Isn’t that guy your boyfriend? Why was he so publicly flirting with this other girl? Is he cheating on you? Unknown to him, Heeseung was walking towards the two, blinded by rage. Jake tries to call after him, but it just sounded like static to Heeseung. Jake rushes to catch up to him, trying to figure out what he was going to do and why he was even doing something in the first place. Heeseung stands in front of Yeonjun, making both Yeonjun and Yunjin turn their attention towards him.

“Shit.” Yeonjun mumbles.

Heeseung didn’t have the patience to ask any questions, he knew he was right in the first place. This guy had some nerve to hurt you like this, so before anyone had another chance to say a word, Heeseung clenched his hand into a fist and punched Yeonjun in the face.

“What the hell!?” Yunjin exclaims, grabbing onto Yeonjun’s arm as he falls to the ground.

Heeseung didn’t pay any attention to the throbbing pain from his hand and raises his fist to punch him again, but Jake stops him. Yeonjun touches his face, blood dripping from his nose as he looks up at Heeseung, clenching his jaw in anger.

“You son of a b-”

“Don’t start with that, you’re the one cheating.”

Yunjin scoffs and stands up to slap Heeseung. “You have some nerve to punch my boyfriend, asshole.”

“What the hell is going on?” Beomgyu questions as you, him, and Minjeong come out from the store.

You look around to see the chaos that has ensued as well as people starting to crowd around all of you.

“This idiot punched my boyfriend because he thinks he’s cheating on you.” Yunjin says shooting you a glare as she helps Yeonjun off of the floor.

“You did what?” you turn to Heeseung.

“Isn’t he your boyfriend? Why aren’t you upset that he’s cheating on you?” Heeseung asks, confused and starting to feel the pain from his hand as the adrenaline and anger start to subside.

You open your mouth to say something, but Yunjin interrupts you. “Maybe because he isn’t actually her boyfriend.”

Heeseung looks between you and her, confused.

“Bu-”

“They only pretended to be dating because she wanted you to back off.” Yunjin seethed.

Heeseung wasn’t sure how to process all of this information, let alone, he wasn’t even sure if he was.

“Yunjin-” you try to apologize, but she pushes past you with Yeonjun. You try to grab her hand, but she pulls away and turns to you.

“It went too far.” she says, trying to control her temper before turning around to walk away with Yeonjun.

You turn to look at Minjeong and Beomgyu, but they both just look at each other awkwardly. 

“We should probably go with them.” Beomgyu says.

Minjeong nods her head, agreeing, but before they both walk past you, she stops, “I’m sure if you try talking to her tomorrow, she’ll forgive you.”

You bite the inner part of your cheek as they walk away. The crowd starts to disperse, still earning a few questioning glances from those passing by. You glare at Heeseung and begin to walk away.

“Look, I didn’t-” he tries to explain, but you cut him off by turning around, now face-to-face with him.

Tears sting as they begin to brim your eyes. There are so many things you could say to him right now, so many things to yell, but for once you find yourself to be at a loss. He too, is also at a loss for words. Seeing you look at him this way, tears in your eyes, he feels so ashamed and embarrassed. 

“Just leave me alone.” you say through shallow breaths, trying your hardest not to cry in front of him.

You knew to him this was all some sick joke, so you doubt he would actually listen to you, but you hoped there was some small part of him that would finally see you never found any of this to be funny and that he has finally taken it too far.

-

You have never dreaded walking to your class this morning more than you do at this very moment; you just don’t have the energy to put up with Heeseung now or even ever again. You tried texting Yunjin, but she never replied let alone even opened the messages. You were so wrapped up in your emotions you didn’t even realize you made it to your class in peace. Relieved was an understatement about how you were currently feeling, but you also felt oddly sick. 

Although you didn’t want him bothering you, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed at the fact that he didn’t even try to apologize once while you were on your way to class. It was the least he could do, afterall. He pretty much destroyed your friendships with your closest friends and now that he’s had his fun, he no longer felt the need to keep up the act? The more you thought about it, the more angry you became. You knew you hated him before, but you’ve never been this furious with him, not even at his attempts to rub his wealth in your face by buying you things. No, this was a new low, even for him, but you keep trying to tell yourself you should’ve seen it coming.

-

“Oh hell no.” Yunjin mumbles before standing up from the steps she and the others were sitting on. Heeseung approaches cautiously as he feels their eyes burning into him with their intensive stares. “You really are a stalker, how did you even know what university I go to?” she asks, crossing her arms defensively. 

“It’s in our high school yearbooks, everyone put where they were going.” he replied. Yunjin scowls, hoping he would get the idea and leave once and for all. “I came to apologize. I just-” he pauses, looking away while clenching his jaw before looking back at them. “I’m sorry I punched you.” he says to Yeonjun. 

Yeonjun looks at him, unimpressed. 

“You suck at apologizing.” Yunjin states.

“I thought he was cheating! I didn’t know-” he groans, becoming frustrated. He tries to calm down, running his hand through his hair before speaking again. “All I want to say is that I really am sorry, I was just trying to look out for your friend, okay? She deserves better and when I saw who I thought was her boyfriend kissing someone else, I just…handled things poorly.”

Yeonjun gets up to stand next to Yunjin, draping his arm around her shoulders. “I get it, you didn’t know.”

Yunjin scoffs, “You’ve officially taken this joke of yours too far, so stop acting like you care about her and just admit it already.”

“Why does everyone think I’m joking?” he asks, both frustrated and genuinely.

“Everyone in school knew you were joking. I thought you took it too far back when you bought her a pair of some new, expensive shoes.”

Is that really how everyone saw it? Is that really how you see it?

“I bought her the shoes because she had her old ones for years and had bandaids for the blisters she was clearly getting. I also bought her extra bandages, did you forget about that?”

Yunjin stops scowling, “So you aren’t just messing with her because she rejected you?”

“Of course not, I really care about her. I know I annoy her, but I never thought she would think I was doing all of this just to hurt her feelings.”

Yunjin stands there for a second, questioning whether or not she believes him. 

“You’re right,” she starts, making eye contact with Heeseung, “she deserves the best.” It falls quiet again for a moment, mainly because Yunjin is wondering whether or not she wants to give him a chance to prove himself to you. “We’re going to meet at the club downtown around ten, if you really mean what you say, you should come.”

Heeseung stands there, stunned. Does this mean she believes him? Does this mean they all believe him? Does this mean you’ll believe him? As they walk away from the steps, they all look at him, but not the same way they did when he first came over; skeptical. They all looked at him like they wanted what he said to be true and tonight is the night he is going to prove it.

-

You walked into the club, anxious, yet grateful that Yunjin finally responded to one of your messages. You wanted tonight to be like any other night that you all hang out here, like everything was back to normal; like it was before the whole debacle with Heeseung at the mall. You made your way past the crowds of people through the darkly lit club, over to the booth you all usually sit at. 

“Hey.” you say, trying not to sound awkward.

Yunjin sheepishly smiles, “Hey.” she says.

“Are you guys going to kiss and make up now?” Beomgyu asks, honestly over all of the drama.

Everyone laughs and Minjeong hands you your usual drink as you all make your way to the dance floor. From there, you move your body to the music, just wanting to let go of all the stress you’ve been under lately. Dancing along with your friends, having a good time, is all you care about at this very moment. You were enjoying yourself, feeling confident in the outfit you chose to wear paired along with the light buzz from the alcohol you were drinking. You closed your eyes as you soaked it all in; it felt like nothing could disrupt this feeling.

“Wow…” you hear someone say before they trail off.

You open your eyes and freeze. You know this voice a little all-too-well. Your grip on the glass you are holding in your hand becomes tighter as you slowly turn towards the person who was speaking. Your eyes lock with Heeseungs as he looks at you in awe. You look stunning and he felt like all of the air from his lungs had escaped the second he saw you; breathless. You walk closer to him, so he wouldn’t get any crazy ideas and try to do something else to your friends, but as you got closer to him you couldn’t help but think about how nice he smells. You shake the thought from your head as you look up at him, your eyes meeting once again. 

All thoughts you previously had were now gone; he made your mind go blank. Have his eyes always been this pretty? No…what the hell are you thinking? Pull yourself together.

“Do you take nothing I say seriously?” you manage to blurt out.

He smiles, happy that you’re talking to him (and just because he’s happy to see you in general).

“For all the years you’ve known me, you should know better than anyone else that I can’t stay away from you.” he replies before smirking.

That smug attitude thankfully snapped you out of whatever weird thoughts you were having earlier and brought you back to reality: he’s a prick. You roll your eyes and push yourself past him as you head to the bar to return your glass. You set the glass down a little harsher than you anticipated and Heeseung follows you as you make your way out of the club. He calls after you, but you ignore him. Nothing is going to change, apparently. But as you’ve said to yourself before: you really shouldn’t be surprised.

Heeseung stops calling after you and instead catches up to you, grabbing your hand gently so you would stop walking away from him. You turn to face him, looking down at your hands for a split second, feeling a different kind of buzz result from it. You try to shake his hand away, but he doesn’t budge. You meet his eyes, feeling your heart begin to race. As much as you tried to stop, something was happening, and you were certainly not a huge fan. 

“I spoke with your friends earlier and apologized.”

He did what? Wait…have you been hallucinating this whole time? That would explain why you suddenly feel this way because you know, not in any lifetime, would you possibly have feelings for Lee Heeseung. 

“How?” is all you could manage to say. 

Your mind was running a thousand miles a minute, not really in any shape to hold any kind of conversation, but especially not one with Heeseung.

“I made a mistake. I have a lot of things I want to apologize to you for.”

He spoke so gently and sweetly; it was like he was hypnotizing you. The streets were oddly quiet, not too many people, but you could still hear the music from the club. You found yourself staring at him in amazement. The fluorescent lights from the signs of stores nearby and the streetlights felt as though they were shining on the both of you, like you two were the only people who matter.

“What?” is all you can think to say.

“I’m sorry I’ve been bothering you to the point where you felt like you had no other choice but to lie.” he says, taking a step closer to you. “I’m sorry I made you and your friend fight.” he takes another step closer to you. You felt your breath hitch as your eyes traveled along his figure. Has he always looked this good in a black button up and black pants? It doesn’t help that his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and you find yourself staring at his arms.

He waits for you. He waits for you while he clearly sees you checking him out and it’s turning him on. God, you look so beautiful and the way you are looking at him, slowly taking in everything about him as if you are seeing him for the first time makes him want to kiss you; it makes him want to do a lot more. When your eyes meet his again, he takes this as an opportunity to step closer to you, placing his other hand on your cheek, gently cupping your face. He wants to be gentle because you are one of the most precious things to him. He leans close to your face, each others’ breath scattering lightly along one anothers face. 

“And I’m sorry,” he whispers as he rubs his thumb back and forth on your cheek, still looking into your eyes, “for making you feel like a joke.”

You feel yourself tense up. “Was it? All a joke…” you trail off, not necessarily sure what you want to happen next.

He continues looking into your eyes, never looking away because he wants you to know that he is being serious; that he means every word he says.

“Not for a second.” he replies.

You think back to everything he has done for you in a new perspective. How he would leave your favorite snack on your desk on test days, notes telling you how well you did after a presentation, volunteering to be your partner because he didn’t want you to feel alone or left out, buying you your favorite drink if you forgot to bring money for it, and asking you out to a restaurant that holds a special meaning to him and he only wants to share it with you. 

You want to kiss him, but you find yourself pulling away instead. He looks at you, confused, as you separate yourself from him, letting go of his hand. 

“I should get home. You know how early my morning class is.” you say while looking at the ground.

“Are you walking home? This late?”

You step back a little bit, finally looking back at him and you smile nervously. “I usually take the bus, but I think I missed the last one, so yeah, I guess I am.” you say kind of bunched together. Are you nervous?

“I can just drive you home.” he says, not really offering, more like telling.

You shake your head as your eyes shift to one of the cars in front of the club. You recognized it as his since he drives it to school everyday. A small, small part of you would love to ride in it, but you can walk home yourself (even if you also know it’s a bad idea).

“Yeah, I’m not letting you walk home alone this late.” he says, no longer wondering why you pulled away from him, but more concerned for your safety. He reaches for your hand and you let him take it, even if you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. You both walk over to his car and he opens the door for you to get in. You look at him and he looks back at you, not intending on budging from his offer. You roll your eyes playfully as you get into the car. He closes the door and walks over to get into the driver's seat. He gets in and closes the door before starting his engine. You sit there, a little surprised you were even in his car in the first place. “You kind of need to put on your seatbelt.” he says, nodding his head towards the seatbelt that you left untouched. 

You laugh nervously, but for some reason, you still don’t think to move to put it on. He sighs, smiling to himself at your cuteness, before leaning over to grab the seatbelt, slowly extending it over your body before clicking it into place. He looks at you, your faces inches apart, and you feel your breathing quicken once again. His heart begins to beat faster, but he can’t stop looking at you; you’re stunning. He manages to pull himself away, worried he might make you feel uncomfortable, before putting on his own seatbelt and putting the car in drive. 

“Do you want to tell me how to get to your house?” he asks as he pulls out of the parking spot.

Your eyes widen. Right, your house. A house that--you assume--is nowhere near as nice as his house. What if once he sees just how different you two are he will stop liking you? What if he was lying before and this was his final cruel attempt to make fun of you? You shake your head.

“I would rather not tell you.”

He steps on the brake, turning his head to look at you.

“You…don’t want to tell me?”

You shake your head, hoping he’ll give up and let you out of the car. You hear him let out a tut, making you turn your head to look at him.

“Would you rather I take you to my place?” he asks, trying not to sound nervous.

Not particularly, you kind of already planned on going to bed once you got back home, but you stayed quiet, leaving him to answer his own question. He sighs, releasing his foot off the brake.

-

Heeseung pulls up to a gate that guards a huge house behind it. Your mouth falls a little agape as you look at it, thinking about how the driveway is the size of your own home. He puts in the code, opening the gate, and driving up the huge driveway. He parks the car and turns off the engine, unbuckling his seatbelt before looking at you. 

“Do you need me to unbuckle it for you?” he asks while smirking.

You kind of want him to, but you opt for doing it yourself. You both get out of the car and he waits for you before he begins to lead the way. You can’t stop looking around as you two walk up the stairs leading to the (in your opinion) oversized doors, to which he opens and lets you walk in first. The house is even more luxurious on the inside than it is on the outside, which you honestly didn’t think could be possible. He shuts the door behind him and you both take off your shoes. You feel out of place, starting to feel insecure. The guy with all of this money to have this grand living room with a huge television, windows covering the walls and expensive furniture littered everywhere claims to like you? And has for years? You were starting to find it hard to believe again. 

“I hope this is okay.” he says, breaking the silence. 

You weren’t sure what he meant, but you assume he’s hoping it’s okay that he brought you here. He starts heading for the staircase and you follow behind, still taking in your surroundings. He leads you to his room, and you decide to stand by the doorframe. To you, it doesn’t seem like the downstairs even needs a living room since he already has a couch and t.v. in his room along with a big bed laying on a platform and more windows for walls. A beep is heard and the curtains for his windows start automatically covering them and the two lamps on his bedside tables turn on. He looks back at you, smiling at your expression that he finds to be adorable. 

“You can come in, you know.” he says as he rummages through some drawers.

You hesitantly walk into his room, somehow just noticing how nice it smells, and find the confidence to walk up the few steps to his bed to take a seat. You turn your head to look around some more and Heeseung looks up, stopping what he is doing upon seeing you on his bed. You are on his bed. Is he dreaming? He honestly never thought this day would come and he clears his throat to try and calm his nerves, making you look at him.

“What are you doing?” you finally ask.

He grabs what he came in for and walks over to you holding out the clothes he picked himself.

“The guest rooms don’t have any clothes in them, so you can borrow mine.”

Did he just say “rooms” as in plural, like multiple? 

“Right, naturally.” you tease.

He smiles and you stand to grab the clothes from him. You hold them as you look up at him, once again meeting his eyes. That feeling starts to form again, the one where you don’t want to stop looking at him and certainly don’t want him to stop looking at you.

“I forgive you.” you whisper.

He looks confused for a second before he understands what you mean. He smiles.

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.” 

You aren’t sure if it’s the atmosphere, the way he smells, the way he’s looking at you, or all three combined, but before you can even process what you are doing, you are tossing the clothes he handed you onto the floor and pulling him by the collar to kiss you.

Holy. Shit. You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him. One of your hands moves to hold the side of his neck while the other moves to the back of his hair as you start running your fingers through it, gripping it here and there. He moves his hands to hold your waist, squeezing them lightly from anticipation, as he kisses you back. He gains more confidence, pulling you as closely as possible to him, as he deepens the kiss. He is desperate for you, he is desperate to show you how he feels. He lifts you up and your legs wrap around his waist, him carefully carrying you and placing you onto his bed. He lays you down as you two continue to kiss, him pulling away from your lips and beginning to leave a trail of light, breathy, kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone. Your chest raises from the deep breath you take and he swears he is going to lose his mind from looking at you in your current state. The state he is currently leaving you in. 

His hands roam your body, wanting to feel every inch of you.

“Heeseung…” you say breathlessly, practically sending him over the edge.

He can feel his erection growing and you saying his name like that makes his cock ache harder. He pulls away from leaving hickeys along your chest, pulling you up by the waist so he can lift your dress off of you. He pulls it over your head and you help him, throwing the dress off to the side. He rests his forehead on yours, trying to calm his breathing and you begin to palm his erection. He whines, moving your hand away before laying you back down. His eyes scan your body, now realizing you were never wearing a bra. There you are, laying on his bed in nothing other than your underwear and he has to try and collect himself before he cums in his pants at just the mere sight of you. His right hand begins to travel up your leg, his fingers lightly running along your skin as he continues to look at you, look at every inch of you. His fingers travel past your hip up to your breasts where he cups one of them, earning a small gasp from you.

He bites the inner part of his cheek, trying to contain himself as he fondles your breast, playing with your nipple, watching how your face contorts in pleasure. He leans down to leave light kisses on your shoulder, looking at your face between each one, going down and stopping at your other breast before latching his mouth around your nipple. You bite your lip, one of your hands comes to grip his hair. He moans as he swirls his tongue around your nipple, occasionally flicking it. He felt drunk and so incredibly turned on. He stops fondling your other breast with his hand and lightly trails his fingers down to your underwear, sticking his hand inside. You gasp again, his fingers feeling a little cold as he runs them along your wet folds. 

Fuck he was making you feel good and you let out a moan, making him smirk. He sticks a finger in, making you grip his hair a little harder, and so he sticks in two. You moan again and he pulls away from your breast to kiss you as his fingers pump in and out of you. You’ve become so wet that you start to cover his hand in your wetness, the sound of his hand coming in constant contact with your pussy starting to fill the room. You feel yourself become close and your mouth falls agape. He stops kissing you and pulls back as well as pulling his fingers out of you. You open your eyes, the dim lights suddenly being so bright as you try to process what is happening.

He brings his fingers to his lips, licking off your arousal from them. His eyes close as he inhales deeply, consumed by the taste of you.

“Please, Heeseung…” you start to plead.

He opens his eyes and figures he can’t leave you without what you want. So, in honor of a fair trade since he feels intoxicated by your taste, he takes off your underwear and throws your legs over his shoulders as he positions his face in front of your pussy. You swallow harshly as you feel his breath on you before he licks a stripe along your core, causing your eyes to roll back a little bit and your back arch at the sudden contact. His hands grip the sides of your thighs as he indulges in you, licking up every last drop of you before making his way to your clit and sucking on it.

“Fuck, Heeseung…” you moan out breathlessly.

He’s too consumed by your taste to notice and he pulls you more into his face. He moans into you, one of his hands leaving your thigh as he starts to finger you again. He hears you moaning and gasping, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you. Just the sight of you causes him to pick up his pace, his fingers rapidly going in and out of you and the more you moan, the more turned on he gets. You feel yourself become closer, gripping the sheets as you call out his name. That mixed with the taste of you on his tongue makes him moan. You taste so good, you look so beautiful, he feels like the luckiest man alive to have you call out his name. He sucks harder and pumps faster as he moans into you, cumming in his pants. 

Your head falls deeper into the pillow you were laying on as you release yourself all over his fingers, mouth, and face. His movements begin to slow down as he calms down from his high and he pulls away, seeing your legs shaking a bit. He sits back, taking your legs off of his shoulders and you look at him. His face is flushed and shiny because of your cum, which he didn’t mind. He licked his fingers again, trying to catch his breath afterwards and you find the energy to sit up. 

You pull him in for a kiss and his hands land on your ass, squeezing it. You moan and reach your slightly shaky hands up to the buttons on his shirt, unbuttoning them. You pull away as you take the shirt off of him, throwing it to the side. This time, you leave a trail of kisses from his jaw to his neck, his mouth falling agape from pleasure. He was becoming hard again and so you started to undo his belt as well as the button and zipper on his pants. You can hear him let out shallow breaths, and he pulls you back to kiss him on the lips. You kiss each other with so much need, and as you start taking off his pants, he pulls away to take them off himself. 

You watch as he does, seeing his bulge through his underwear along with the cum stain from earlier. You smirk, which makes him feel a little shy.

“Come here.” you say, your eyes flicking back to meet his.

He listens, and you move each other so he is now the one laying back as you sit between his legs. He swallows harshly, completely turned on by the sight of your bare self looking at him in such a sinful way. Fuck, he wants you to ruin him. You keep eye contact with him as you lightly grab the edge of his boxers. His breath hitches as he becomes increasingly more nervous and he bites his lip as you run your pointer finger over his v-line. You smirk, slowly pulling his boxers off of him and finally letting his aching cock free. You cast aside his boxers, lightly running your fingers along his length, making him let out little moans, trying to decide what you want to do next. Seeing him like this, you decide you can’t wait any longer, so you position yourself over his cock, one hand holding onto his shoulder as the other guides it into your cunt. 

You both throw your heads back as you let out a moan in unison. You slowly sank onto his length and he watched in awe. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening and when you finally settled fully onto his cock, his mind felt fuzzy. You felt so fucking good and here you were, riding his dick with hickies all over your chest and neck made by him. Consumed by his thoughts, he gripped your hips a little bit harsher as he let out a stifled breath. You look at him, wondering what was happening, but feeling his cock twitch inside of you and him letting out a string of moans and apologies answered your question quickly as he came inside of you. 

His breathing settled after his release and he looks at you, eyes a little hazy, but full of pleasure; he looked so fucked out. 

“I’m so sorry.” he half whispers and half exclaims. 

He really meant it and to be honest, he was kind of embarrassed. You shake your head.

“Don’t be,” you say, starting to rock your hips, causing his eyes to roll back in pleasure, “it was hot.” You pick up your speed and call out his name from how good he is making you feel. “Shit…” you whine as you start to lose momentum from the pleasure. He notices and adjusts himself so he is laying a little bit lower to which he slings his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You let out a small yelp as he hoists his hips up, thrusting into you, fast and deep. “Fuck…” you call out into his ear, making him pick up his pace. 

Moans mixed with the sound of his cock rutting into you fills the room and you grip the sheets as you feel yourself clench around him.

“Fuck-” Heeseung starts, but is cut off by his own moans from being close to his climax.

He thrusts into you faster and you clench around him harsher, your legs shaking as you cum all over his dick. He grips your waist harsher and clenches his jaw, breathy moans still escaping through his teeth as he cums–once again–inside of you. He does a few more thrusts to ride out his high before pulling out of your throbbing cunt. You both lay there for a moment, you still on top of him, trying to catch your breath.

“So…” Heeseung starts. You lift your head slightly to look him in the eyes and he smiles sheepishly, “does this mean you’ll go on that date with me?” he asks, hopeful.

You roll your eyes, “God, you’re annoying.” you say before smiling.

[charliemwrites]

I had a BRAIN BLAST on the way home today. So!

In the category of Readers Who Get To Do What They Want:

(CW for dark Simon, johnny, and “reader” with unhealthy relationship dynamics, gaslighting - not from who you suspect - and threats of violence)

A pair of identical twins who are basically opposites from birth. Twin 1 is obviously favored by their parents for being the “easy” twin that tries to appease them and keep the peace. Twin 2 a little hellion from birth, they think this kid is basically broken. Try to test for psychopathy but nope, their own kid has just picked up on the accidental favoritism from birth and just seems to dislike their own parents. But they still love their twin.

The twins grow up as complete opposites. Different social circles, hobbies, interests, clothes, attitudes. They’re incredibly close, but twin 2 will (and has) gotten violent on twin 1’s behalf because their parents are raising them to be “well behaved”.

By teen years, twin 2 is being sent to the countryside most summers to be handled by the grandparents. (Jokes on them, farmlife is nice and the grandparents aren’t exactly strict - mostly because twin 2 actually likes them and doesn’t see much need to rebel).

Meanwhile twin 1 is doing summer programs and learning arts, developing this intense aversion to conflict and has trouble standing up for themself. Especially without twin 2 there to lean on.

Come university, their parents insist on twin 1 staying close by for uni, essentially make the choice for them. Twin 2 decides to ship out of the country and plans on breaking off all contact. (Maybe due to some sort of unforgivable drama at the grandparents’ funeral?)

Before leaving, twin 2 gives twin 1 a burner phone with one number programmed in. Promises that if twin 1 ever needs to disappear, to be free of it all, they can call and twin 2 will be there in a heartbeat with bolt cutters for those chains. And then they just sort of… disappear.

Twin 1 doesn’t see them for *years*. Never uses that phone but keeps it.

So twin 1 lives their quaint pre-determined life with their acceptable job and it’s all mostly okay. Not bad at all. Quiet, if lackluster.

And then Simon comes along. Simon, who takes one look at this little angel and decides they have to be his. Theyre too good, too soft, unable to take care of themselves properly in this big scary world. And after all he’s suffered, doesn’t he deserve something sweet to protect? And hell, Johnny could use a kind touch every now and then too.

So he “seduces” twin 1 (aka, the dark!Simon move of just deciding someone is his and acting like it whether they like it or not). Manipulates them into stepping right into their own collar and leash, with him at the other end.

It’s too late by the time Twin 1 realizes what they’ve become - this man’s pretty pet. An agreeable little doll for him and his teammate to play house with. It’s not always bad, but it’s suffocating and scary. They feel trapped; they are.

It takes months until they get enough privacy to dig the old phone out of the place they nearly forgot about it.

Twin 2 picks up on the third ring.

In the intervening years, twin 2 has gotten into all sorts of trouble and mayhem. Become the demon their parents always accused them of being. Has, somehow along the way, joined up with KorTac and gotten all their files scrubbed. “Twin 2” no longer exists to the world at large. Nothing that anyone, even Kate Laswell, could dig up.

They get the call from their twin and break their contract on the spot. Get on a flight within hours. Sneak their twin out of the homey prison they’ve been locked up in.

Take twin 1 to a sunny, public cafe and get the story through their sibling’s nervous stuttering. Gets angrier and angrier with the more they hear, eyes fixated on the thin leather collar around their twin’s throat.

“Please just… I know it’s selfish and I’m sorry, but-”

Twin 2 already has a plan. They have a quiet, cozy cabin with comfortable funds in a rural part of Canada. Twin 1 will go there, rest and recover and be free. Twin 2 will take their place with Simon and Johnny to throw off suspicion and searches.

The scars from living the life they have? No worries. twin 2 will stage a car accident, reopen some of them to make it seem legit. Lie about head trauma to account for any lapses in their twin 1 act.

It’s decided within three hours. Twin 2 sends their sibling off to the airport and sets everything into motion. They’ve been dying to do something like this for years, after all the times their sibling stuck by their side and tried to stick up to them, to no avail.

Twin 2 instantly hates that fucking collar. Lets Simon put it on but not without the most dark look at the wall, thinking of all the ways to break his hands. Fingers twitching by their side.

The boys sit them down to watch scary movies because they always think it’s fun to spook twin 1 and fuck them while they’re all tense and shivery and but twin 2 is just watching, almost bored. Makes a few attempts to fake jump but keeps forgetting because all their focus is on not slamming a hand into someone’s dick for grinding on them.

Pretends to be asleep in the big bed they’ve been herded into when they kick Johnny or Simon off in the middle of the night. Purposefully aims for soft spots and bruises.

They try to act like twin 1 for a bit but the persona is so difficult to keep up when every little condescending comment from Simon or Johnny makes them want to start stabbing. The inside of their mouth is all torn up from biting onto their cheek and running their tongue over their teeth to resists snarling and snapping.

One day they’re going to snap… and it’s going to be so good to see these bastards bleed.

[five-rivers]

Cracked Clay Cup

for @greatbigolhampuckjustforme

“Are you awake?”

Until he heard that question, the answer to it would have been a resounding no.  However, he was awake now, so he pried his eyes open to squint at whoever had interrupted his sleep.  

“Maybe,” he mumbled into a fluffy pillow.  

“Excellent.  Then we can start the questionnaire.”

In his opinion, it was far too early for a questionnaire.  On the other hand, the creeping feeling that something wasn't quite right was creeping its way up his spine.  He levered himself out of his blanket cocoon and into a sitting position.  Then he retrieved his blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders.  He wanted to be cozy.  

“Questionnaire?” he asked.  

“Indeed.  It’s not long.”

“Um, okay.  What are you doing in, um…”  This… wasn’t his bedroom.  He was pretty sure this wasn’t his bedroom.  Or any place he’d seen before.  

He also didn’t think he’d seen the ghost before, which added an air of surrealism to the whole situation.  

“Who are you?” he asked, looking the ghost up and down.  He was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in purple, with a hooded cloak thrown around his shoulders.  There was a rectangular hole in his chest, and in the hole was a pendulum and clock face.

“That is, in fact, one of the questions I have to ask you.”  The ghost showed him the back of a clipboard and produced a pen from thin air.

“Um, that, um.”  He frowned.  “Who am I, or who are you?”

“Yes,” said the ghost.  “But let us start at the beginning.  Do you know who you are?”

“Well, yeah, sure, I’m… Um.  I’m.  I…”  It should have been an easy question.  It should have been a question he didn’t even have to think about, which is why he didn’t.  But he didn’t even have the echo of an answer.

“I will mark that down as a no.”

“Wait, wait,” he said, “what’s going on, who am I?”

“I have to go through the whole questionnaire before I answer your questions, I’m afraid.  Those are the rules.”

“I… okay?”

“Do you recognize me in any capacity?”

“Nope.  Am I supposed to?”

“Excellent.  Next question, do you know where you are?”

He shook his head.  “Somewhere in the Ghost Zone, I think.”

“Do you know what year it is?”

“Um.  Two thousand five?  Or, uh, six?”  He shrugged.  Something like that.  It was a little blurry.  

“How old are you?”

“Teenage?”

“Can you describe yourself?”

“Um…  Forgetful?”

“Physically,” clarified the ghost.

He looked down.  He was covered in blankets and therefore unable to see so much as an inch of skin.  He crossed his eyes to look at his nose.  “White,” he said, finally.  “Probably.  And a guy.  Is that a physical thing?”

The ghost made a note on the clipboard.  “And how would you describe your parents?  Your family?”

“Uh.  They probably… exist.”

“Very good.  Favorite band?”

“Dumpty Humpty.  Why do I know that and not my name?”

“Please hold your questions until the end.  Favorite food?”

“Milkshake.  Kiwi fudge.  That’s weird.  That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“No weirder than a cheese puff and bacon milkshake.”

“Huh.  Is it weird that I want to try that now?”

“Somewhat, but not horribly so.”

He gazed at the ghost silently for several long seconds.  The ghost gazed back.  This was already an awkward situation, but it was getting worse by the second.  

“So… what’s the next question?”

“That was the last question. As you can doubtlessly tell, I am now answering your questions.”

He probably should have noticed that, actually.  He leaned forward, eager.  “Great, so, uh, what’s going on?  Why don’t I remember anything?”

“Your memory was removed in preparation for legal proceedings.”  Was it just him, or did the ghost seem… displeased about that?

“Uh… that seems sort of backwards, doesn’t it?  If I’m supposed to testify or defend myself, shouldn’t I at least remember what it is I’m doing?”

“That would be true if you were testifying or defending yourself.”

“Okay…  So…  What am I doing?”

“You are the subject of an extensive custody dispute.”

“And… that means I need to get my memory erased why?”

“We ghosts have a different method of settling custody disputes.  We prefer it if the child in question decides who to be with.”

“I kind of feel as if that’d also be easier with my memories.”

“On the contrary, memories can often lead to people choosing to stay in unpleasant situations.  For example, memories might create a sense of debt, sentiment, or honor that would prevent an objective decision based on current reality.”  The ghost said this as if he was reciting the phrase from rote memory.  

“That seems… wrong, somehow.  Like, there’s a missed assumption or something.”

“Be that as it may be, it is how we do things.”

“‘We’ being ghosts.”

“Correct.”

“Am I a ghost?”  This felt like another of those things he should just know, but, as before, he just didn't. 

“An unusual kind, but yes.”

“I'm dead?”  

“You died, yes.  Whether or not ghosts count as dead is a matter of scholarly debate.”

Well.  Okay, then.  He didn’t know what to say to that.  He sort of thought being dead would have more impact, but maybe it was hard to mourn for a life he didn't remember.  Or maybe he'd been dead for long enough that he'd already processed all the implications, and that had stuck around subconsciously.  Like the name of his favorite band.  

That was still weird.  

“So… What happens now?  Do you lead me out into the courtroom, see who I run to?  Do some kind of genetic test?  What are the rules here?”

“On the contrary, we have taken measures to keep your biological family from having an unfair advantage based on resemblance.  No.  What will happen is that, as a trial, you will spend a few days with each group that put themselves forward as potential guardians.  They have acquired housing appropriate for a young ghost, and have been… reviewed… to prevent abuses or other troubles.  You may leave their temporary guardianship whenever you choose.  However, once you leave, you will not be able to return to them until and unless you choose them at the end of these trials.  Between the potential guardians, you will stay here with me.”

There were so many troubling things in that explanation that he didn’t even know where to start.  

“So… the courtroom thing, but drawn out.”

“I suppose so, if you choose to look at it that way.”

“Right.  So, um.  What’s my name?”

“It’s Daniel.”

“Great.  Okay.  Cool.”  Daniel rubbed his eyes.  Despite all the heart-attack inducing things he was learning about today, he was still half-asleep.  Maybe it was a memory-wipe side-effect.  “You know, this is kind of messed up.  Some kind of weird reverse fairy tale kind of thing.  Like that story where someone has to pick the right girl when she’s been turned into a flower and there are two other flowers.  Why do I know that?”

“Unfortunately, I am not allowed to give you that information.  I am here to tell you the rules and make sure you are… able to do this.”

“To make sure you guys didn’t nuke my brain, you mean?”

“To some degree, yes.  But this is also frequently rather emotional, at least that is my understanding.  You are handling it remarkably well.”

“Oh, I’m just delaying my breakdown until after I see what I look like.  Better to have some idea of what my body is capable of in terms of punching walls and all that.”

“Wise,” said the ghost, with a small smile.  “There is a bathroom just through that door if you wish to examine yourself physically.”

“I’ll do that, in a bit.  But, first, um.  You keep saying we and us.  Who is that?  Who’s doing this?  I mean, ghosts, sure, but more specifically?”

“The legal system of the Ghost Zone.”

“Which is… Who?  Exactly?  The Observants?”

“You remember that.  Interesting.  But, yes, they are, for better or worse.”

“And you?  What's your position?”

“I am merely a neutral monitor selected by the Observants.”

“Monitor, huh?”

“I feel as though it would be misleading of me to call myself an observer under these circumstances.”

Daniel nodded.  “I can understand that.  I guess.  Is that, um, your usual job?  Taking care of kids like this?”

“I’m afraid not.  I work for the Observants in another capacity.”

“What capacity?”

“That would be one of the things I am not permitted to tell you.”

“Okay, and what’s up with that?  Why can’t you tell me things?”

“I am not allowed to give you information regarding your own past, including contextual information.”

Daniel frowned at the ghost.  “That sort of implies that I knew you, though, doesn’t it?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

“Cool,” said Daniel.  “That’s helpful.  You’re not in the running for my… whatever I should call this.  My guardianship?”

The ghost nodded.  “That is an acceptable term, but I must remind you that I am a neutral monitor.”

“Sure.  Right.”  There were other questions he could ask, other questions he should ask, but his brain felt fried.  Did he have a brain, being a ghost and all?  Or was he just, like… goo?

Yeah, no, he wasn’t going to ask that.  He was going to go do something more… concrete.  Bathroom time.  He was sure it would be just as harrowing, especially with the implication that his appearance had been changed somehow, but he could be brave.

He shuffled to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over.  He frowned at the cold floor and decided to take the blankets with him.  Then, he realized one of his questions had gone unanswered.

“Hey, um.  What’s your name? You never did say.”

“You can call me Clockwork.  And when you are done in the bathroom, I have breakfast waiting downstairs.”

Daniel heaved himself up and went to the bathroom, looking over his shoulder at Clockwork as he went.  

This was just… really weird.  Should he try to escape?  Like, even if Clockwork was telling the truth about everything, this wasn’t exactly what he would call a good situation.  But if this was the lie, then what was the truth?  The truth was always worse, when people were lying like that.

… Not that Daniel could come up with any specific examples of that.  It was more of a feeling.  

Soft lights came on in the bathroom as he stepped in.  It was… a bathroom.  He was sure he’d been in other bathrooms before.  This one had a purple-on-lavender color scheme and a large bathtub.  The fixtures were brass.  In other words, it resembled Clockwork to a surprisingly high degree.  Daniel wondered if he lived here normally, or if he’d just been the one to decorate.  Or if someone with a sense of irony had decorated it for him.  

Whichever.  Maybe he’d ask Clockwork about it and see if he answered.  It was harmless enough, compared to some of the questions he could ask.  

There was also a mirror.  He stared at it.  

His skin was a sort of tan pink, awash with freckles.  His hair was white.  His eyes were glowing and green.  His ears were long and pointed, curving up around the sides of his face to sit on the top of his head.  The blankets were also purple, funnily enough.  Huh.  

He leaned closer, squinting.  What kind of ears were those, anyway?  He had to assume he didn’t have them when he was alive and human.  Cat?  Dog?  Fox?  It wasn’t an automatic ghost thing, either, since Clockwork didn’t seem to have them, although that hood could likely hide a lot.  

If he had animal ears, did he have anything else?  Maybe some cool slit pupils?  He leaned even closer, over the counter.  Maybe?  They might be slitted?  He alternately blinked and widened his eyes, trying to make his pupils change sizes.  

Yes!  They were slitted!  Cool!

Which put better odds on this being a fox or cat thing than a dog thing.  Dogs had round pupils.  

Next question: did he have a tail?

He swung the blankets off his shoulders and folded them up so he could set them on the counter.  He was, surprise surprise, wearing purple pajamas.  But he also had a large, fluffy tail.  He petted it.  It was very fluffy.  

Excellent.  He’d always wanted a tail.  Well, he’d wanted one for the few minutes he’d been aware there was a possibility he could have one.  Very nice.  Good feeling.  Soft.  

It also seemed very unfamiliar.

Precautions.  

Right.  

The smile slid off his face.  Well.  On reflection, he didn’t think Clockwork was lying to him, but he really needed to know more about him to make a real determination.  Just like he needed to make a determination about his potential ‘guardians.’  

This was giving him real adoption scam vibes.  Which was weird, because he’d’ve thought that’d be one of the memories they’d erase if they wanted to do that.  Maybe memory erasure was just… really inexact.  That sounded like a possibility.  Maybe there was some other weird scam going on.  

Only one way to find out.  He washed up, then left the bathroom and navigated towards the stairs.  

The stairs were also purple.  

Daniel was definitely leaning towards this place being decorated by someone with a weird sense of humor.  A non-Clockwork someone.  There weren’t nearly enough clocks for this place to have been designed by someone named Clockwork.  You had to be really into clocks to name yourself Clockwork.  

“Welcome,” said Clockwork, smiling at Daniel from the center of the purple kitchen.  “There are pancakes.”  He gestured to the table.  “And the file next to them has the names of your potential guardians.  Why don’t you read through them and see who you might like to stay with first.”

“You want me gone so soon?” asked Daniel, sliding into his seat.  

“You are welcome to stay here for as long as you want, but then you won’t get your memories back.”

“I can get my memories back?” asked Daniel, looking up sharply.  

“Yes, they will be returned after you make your choice,” said Clockwork.  He turned back to the stove.  “Hashbrowns?  Eggs?  Sausage?”

“Um,” said Daniel, who was gradually realizing how hungry he was.  “All of them?”

“Of course.”

Daniel turned his attention back to the file folder, then flipped it open.  Time to see who he was being… adopted by?  Was that the right term here?  

The first page had seven groups of names, bullet pointed.  It was also done in calligraphy, which was certainly a contrast to the plain manila folder it was stored in.  

“Anyone catch your eye?” asked Clockwork, setting down a plate with eggs and sausage on it.  

“Does it matter which order I do this in?”

“Not at all.”

“So I could start at the end.”

“Indeed.”

“Great,” said Daniel.  “Then let’s start there.  After breakfast.”

[kindlingkeen]

not ‘baby jason was a sweet little cherub, way easier to deal with than his predecessor’ or ‘baby jason was an unhinged murderchild imitating the violence he viewed as normal due to his poverty’ but rather ‘baby jason was a snarky, clever, extremely eager to please kid and when he was triggered he fought with everything he had to protect himself and others’

🤨 Did you sneak a peak at the outline for my baby Blue Jay AU that I keep pretending doesn’t exist, anon? Seems like you and I are on the same wavelength. Baby jason was a snarky, clever, extremely eager to please kid and when he was triggered he fought with everything he had to protect himself and others is exactly how I think of the little guy.

Canon actually supports this version of him. In fandom, the tire theft origin story gets a lot of attention, but the canon details of what came after are so important. After Bruce gets his tires back, he makes a deal with Jason not to turn him over to the cops or social workers if he goes to stay at Ma Gunn’s School for Boys (Batman #410).

Turns out the school is a front for criminal activity.

Jason nopes right outta there and gets picked up by Bruce again for boosting tires (Batman #411).

Jason tells Batman about a plan to steal from the museum. Then Jason shows up to foil the crime himself because he didn’t think Batman believed him. It’s after this that Bruce takes him home.

Bruce likes to talk about how he tried to put Jason on the right path, but really Jason’s heart was already there to begin with.

[cherryslyce]

By NEWTS & Nott | Theodore Nott

Synopsis: The stress from studying for your NEWT level classes has you spiraling into confusion from burnout, and perhaps, simultaneously inspiring a certain slytherin to approach you. But it was all a coincidence, right?

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Gryffindor!Reader

Notes: Cursing, Affection (oh my goodness). I love Theo. Like my mind is constantly just <3 Theo <3.

The gloom that permeated through the air was unusually suffocating. The grey clouds that scattered across the almost equally dull sky left little room for enthusiasm to float about. Many students were beginning to fall into the pattern of procrastinating on their essays, the notorious wave of burnout that swept through the student body every year was at its most unforgiving. 

This year seemed almost worse than last year’s and you were sure it has already done a number on you. Hermione, ever the scholar, was amongst the very few who were managing fairly well for the most part. Your frizzy-haired friend was currently sitting across from you in the library, face buried in a book as she mumbled quietly, albeit furiously, about Harry’s sudden overwhelming success in Potions.

You yourself were quite impressed at Harry’s new penchant for the subject and you weren’t sure if his newfound success had anything to do with having a Potions professor who didn’t seem to loathe his existence or if he was suddenly gifted by mother magic with a potions mastery. 

NEWT level classes were definitely proving to be a challenge for you, and your head was pounding from trying to make sense of the Runes assignment in front of you. You weren’t Hermione by any means, but you would consider yourself to be another top student in your year, having a particular talent for Transfiguration. 

“‘Mione, maybe Harry just studied a little bit extra or something. Besides, it’s a great thing that he’s thriving, especially in potions. Merlin knows this spurn of success was needed given his previous record.” 

The girl’s head shoots up at your words, eyebrows drawn in frustration, “But Y/N, it just doesn’t make any sense! I followed the instructions exactly! Harry said he did as well, so why are all of my potions off?” 

Ah, ever the perfectionist. 

As she continued her tangent, her voice began to slowly rise in volume before her last words were bouncing around the bookshelves and causing other students to turn towards you. 

“Mione, please speak a little lower! And it doesn’t matter, you’re still the top student in a lot of the other classes anyway. Besides, Slughorn is still impressed with your work regardless, that Slug Club invitation is proof of it.” Your hushed whispers seemed to quell her and she nodded along, seeming to accept your encouragement. As if suddenly feeling the burning gazes being shot at the two of you, she quickly turned and apologized silently to everyone she disturbed. 

As she turned back to the book in front of her, you slowly looked around to rest your eyes. As your gaze flitted to the table next to yours, your eyes widened as you made eye contact with a familiar slytherin. 

Of course, it just happened to be him of all people. 

Theodore Nott happened to be one of the very few students in your year who could match Hermione’s academic prowess. You remembered starkly him beating out Draco and Hermione in Charms and Runes last year, shocking your friend group immensely– Hermione most of all. He was often seen walking with Draco and Daphne Greengrass, but he kept to himself for the most part. Despite his quieter disposition, you heard his name whispered often by girls who were longing to gain his attention and affection. 

And from the way he carried himself, it was obvious that Theodore Nott was an impressive wizard. 

He also just so happened to be staring at you at the current moment, no doubt having been disturbed by Hermione moments earlier. 

Slapping on an apologetic smile, you nod to him before turning back to your Runes assignment. 

Nope. Not awkward at all.

Your heart was beating furiously in your chest and you were beginning to fear that its quickened pace would either cause you to pass out or be loud enough for him to hear. You had never really talked to the boy, only being able to recall moments of fleeting nods and awkward eye contact between the two of you. 

Of course, that didn’t stop you from admiring his talents and his admittedly, above-average looks. You also appreciated his tendency to ignore people rather than berate and bully them like other slytherins in your year. 

You were sure that he at least knew of you, if not due to your involvement in Harry’s circle, then due to your consistent residency at the top of the academic hierarchy.

And a little part of you did hope that he took notice of you, not that you’d ever admit it aloud. 

–

The bags under your eyes could probably carry the weight of the troll you accidentally concussed in your first year, the unforgiving curriculum chipping away at the amount of rest you got every night. 

The library was unusually empty that evening, allowing you to peacefully sigh and slam your head into your books without looking like a complete maniac. Moving your head from side to side to try and relieve the tension in your neck, you move to slap your hands over your cheeks. 

After you were done waking yourself up, you drew your eyebrows together and began to tackle the large chunks of small text. 

‘Often mistaken for each other, the words ehwaz and eihwaz have different meanings, partnership and defense, respectively.’ 

You were definitely not making much progress with your Ancient Runes work, and you were growing increasingly anxious about the upcoming exam as you could slowly feel yourself slipping in the class. 

Feeling a prickle on your forehead, you shoot your gaze upwards and suppress a startled gasp as you lock eyes with an amused Theodore. 

When did he get here? Wait, did you get here after him? If so, how did you not notice him until now?

Perhaps, your sleep deprivation was beginning to interfere with how you function. Your lapses in memory were concerning enough for you to think of reining in your hours of daily study. As you slowly close the textbook in front of you, you watch as Theodore’s eyes dart to observe your sluggish movements. 

Clearly taking pity on your hunched form, he observes you for a few more moments before sliding over a sheet of parchment. Feeling your fingers twitch in suspicion, you carefully eye him before deciding that he wouldn’t try to blow you up or anything to that degree. 

As you read through the paper, you feel your mouth part in shock as you realize that it was an organized chart of notes on the words you were struggling with. Theodore Nott had just given you his notes like it was the most casual thing in the world–and they were his nice notes too. 

Feeling a smile pull at your lips, you shoot your head up to thank the boy, only to find the chair across from you vacant. Looking around your table, you’re only met with endless rows of bookshelves. You were left to your lonesome again, the paper in your hand being the only assurance that you hadn’t hallucinated your interaction with the quiet slytherin. 

Quickly packing up your notes and books, you carefully slide Theodore’s notes into your folder as you exit the library, parting with a quick farewell to Madam Pince. 

Briskly walking back to the Gryffindor common room, you shake off the strange interaction in favor of contemplating what a disaster your next Potions lesson is going to be. It was pretty formulaic by now with Harry finishing flawlessly, Hermione wandering out of the class with a lost look, Ron flying by the seat of his pants, and your constant thoughts of giving up and laying your head down. 

Potions had transformed from a tense, strict environment to one of the most entertaining in a matter of just a single year. You respected Snape’s intellect and proclivity in Potions, but his prejudices diminished any inkling of passion you had for the subject. 

–

You were correct in your assumption that the class would go exactly how it always went. Currently, Ron’s cauldron was smoking up a cloud that put Seamus’ usual catastrophes to shame. As you ran your finger along the list of directions for the umpteenth time, you realized that you were missing a stem of Baneberries. 

How you missed it, you could only ponder at another time. You were bustling about frantically, running on a couple hours of sleep, and feeling beside yourself. 

Eyeing your cauldron, you estimated that you could probably run to the storage closet and nick the stem quickly without causing too much havoc by leaving it unattended. Moving from around your table, you quickly weaved around frustrated Gryffindors and confused Slytherins and towards the high shelves of glass jars in the back of the room. 

You were getting dizzy from scanning the identical towers of jars, all the labels suddenly merging together. 

Baneberries would be near the top since all the ingredients were sorted alphabetically. Looking around for the ladder, you jump out of your skin as you nearly bump into a sturdy figure behind you. 

Holding your chest from the scare, you peer at the person only to be met with a familiar pair of amused eyes. 

Sucking in a short breath at your luck, you shoot a sheepish smile at the boy, “Nott. Hello. I didn’t notice you there. Sorry, I’m in a bit of a rush, I forgot one of my ingredients.” 

Theodore raises an eyebrow at you before partially sidestepping you, reaching up towards a shelf behind you. You gaped as you realized he was crowding you against him and the shelf, unable to wiggle around the small gap he left. 

Just as quickly as the awkward moment began, it ended, and Theodore was backing up and gingerly pushing a small stem of red and white berry clusters towards you. 

Eyes widening in shock, you carefully grab the thin stem, accidentally pinching his cold fingers in the process, “Oh, shoot. I’m sorry. Er…but thank you, Nott. I should really go though, I think my cauldron might explode if I delay any further.” 

Practically bouncing on the spot, you don’t wait to hear his response before you’re maneuvering around his figure and scurrying back to your table. Luckily, your potion was still boiling away and even looked salvageable. 

“It’s perfect! That bright pink is spot on, very good Harry, my boy.” Slughorn’s jubilant voice carries around the classroom and you could see many students suppressing their groans at Harry finishing first and flawlessly, once again. 

You purse your lips to contain your laughter as you see Hermione look more than mildly distressed before schooling her expression, shooting a small congratulatory smile at Harry. 

What a proper mess. 

Snorting quietly, you remove the stem from your berries and slowly add a few at a time, stirring the concoction three times counterclockwise. Unlike Harry’s tart pink potion, yours begins to melt into a magenta color, and you have half the mind to step back just as it gives a little rumble, a small puff of smoke shrouding over the circumference of the cauldron. 

Safe to say, that is not what’s meant to happen.

Unsure whether to mourn your failed potion (once again) or not take it too seriously, you opt to just do both, and drop your chin into your hands, laughing dryly at your fate. 

Quickly cleaning up around your work station, you risk a glance across the room and make eye contact with Theodore who looks vaguely entertained at your failed  potion. 

Later, Harry’s bottled potion is being presented by Slughorn at the front of the class, everybody gathering around in a semi-circle to see the result. As you shuffle from leg to leg, you feel a firm chest press lightly against your back. Before you could spin around on your heel, you sense their head moving towards your ear.  

“You forgot to turn down your flame and add the stem of your Angel’s Trumpet.” Theodore’s whisper sends shivers down your spine and you have to cross your arms in order to stop yourself from physically reacting. 

Turning your head slightly towards his face, you huff out in exasperation, “I’m not surprised, I was pretty much running around like a headless hippogriff.” 

You wryly smile, becoming accustomed to classroom failures. Luckily, it seemed that the wave of burnout was finally letting up for a few weeks before your NEWTS, so you could catch up on sleep beforehand. 

A breathy laugh leaves Theodore’s lips imperceptibly and you have to fight back the pleased grin threatening to pull at your face. 

Soon, Slughorn was dismissing class and you were all free to head to the dining hall for lunch. Spinning to head back to grab your book bag, you shoot a small smile at Theodore, “Nice chat, Nott. Thanks again.” 

Before you’re able to brush past him, he mutters a simple correction to you, “Theo.”

“Theo. See you around.”

– 

Your little exchange in potions doesn’t go unnoticed and before you could even stack up some potatoes on your plate, Hermione is dropping herself down next to you with a curious glint shining in her eyes. 

Raising an eyebrow at her enthused expression, you’re unsure if you’re walking into a trap as you respond, “What’s up, ‘Mione?”

Hermione leans a little towards you before quietly whispering to you as if she was sharing a heartfelt secret, “You know what. I saw you and Nott during Potions.” 

Craning your head back to look at her, you suppress the groan itching at your throat as you realize she had her mind set on getting information out of you. 

“It’s nothing of that sort, ‘Mione. He was just giving me tips on my brew is all, apparently I forgot a key ingredient. I’m a proper mess and it seems to be catching the attention of other houses.” You breathe out quietly, beginning to push your food around on your plate. 

Hermione grins like she knows something you don’t and replies with finality before scooping food onto her plate, “Well, he’s seated rather far away from us, don’t you agree? I wonder how he knew what you did wrong.” 

Her words have you pausing as you straighten up in your seat, shooting your wide eyes to her satisfied face. 

Sweet Merlin, she wasn’t called the brightest witch of your age for a half-hearted reason. In a way, you wanted to smack yourself for not realizing sooner despite how glaringly obvious it seems in hindsight. 

How did he know what you did wrong?

– 

It’s been a week since your potion incident with Theo, and you’ve been actively avoiding looking in his direction since that day. You absolutely would not focus on the boy, you couldn’t afford a crush, especially not one on one of the most eligible bachelors of your year. 

Plus, a crush would be detrimental to your grades, and you had barely just recovered from your chronic sleep deprivation. 

Unfortunately, your active avoidance of the boy only made him drift through your head more often. You even caught yourself writing his name mid-sentence while you were doing your Transfiguration essay. 

At the current moment, you were sitting with your friends in the common room, listening to Harry rant about Draco, once again. It was entertaining, but you could feel Hermione shooting small glances at you from time to time, still remembering your incident with Theodore. 

Crossing your arms, you finally speak up as Harry stops to catch his breath, “Harry, are you sure you’re not just interested in Malfoy? No one pays this much attention to someone without having a crush on them, I mean seriously, how do you even know how Draco likes his apples?” 

Harry gapes at your words, fishing around for a logical rebuttal, but you can see how his eyes widen in realization. Ron seems plenty amused by Harry’s flailing and leans back like a satisfied wingman, even though you were the one who did all the mental gymnastics for Harry. 

Hermione raises her eyebrows at your words, turning to face you before echoing your words quietly, “Yeah, no one pays that much attention to someone without it involving a crush.” 

Shaking your head, you dismiss her insinuation, “It was one lesson, ‘Mione. I doubt he’s looking to court me or anything.” 

Your words grab Harry and Ron’s attention and they suddenly lean over to you for an explanation. Raising your eyebrows in challenge, you successfully harden your resolve despite their puppy eyes. 

Realizing that you were going to remain tight-lipped, Hermione decides to enlighten them, “A certain slytherin has taken interest in Y/N.” 

“Oh please ‘Mione, I’m telling you that he’s just really observant and really good at potions.” Your last words catch a little in your throat. 

Hermione grins like cheshire cat, having successfully roped you in, “Sure, and him giving you his nice notes was just a casual ordeal as well.”

Ron and Harry swing their heads back and forth between the two of you, eyes brimming with anticipation. 

Ron seems to have reached the end of his patience and grabs hold of your forearms, shaking you playfully before exclaiming, “Well don’t just keep fighting, tell us who!” 

Huffing in defeat, you dart your attention to the fireplace as you satiate their curiosity, “Theodore Nott.” 

Harry falls back on the floor and releases a noise of surprise while Ron’s hands rip away from your arms and fly to his face. 

“What? Is it that surprising?” Honestly, you were mildly insulted.

Harry is the first to speak, shaking his head reassuringly, “No, no, it’s just, you’re not considering it are you?” 

Tilting your head, you’re quick to reply, “What do you mean? I mean I don’t consider it as a possibility, but what’s so wrong with Theo?” 

Ron gapes in shock, “Theo?” 

Hermione looks at the both of them sternly before turning to you, “I think what they’re trying to say is, Theodore might be bad news. I haven’t the faintest clue why they’d feel that way though.” 

Shaking your head firmly, you shoot down their apprehension, “No way, he’s probably the most tame out of that friend group.” 

The boys don’t look convinced, but Harry concedes with a quiet, “If you’re sure.” 

Tired of the conversation, you stand up from the sofa and stretch your arms above your head, “Enough about me, it’s about time for dinner. Let’s head to the dining hall and talk about Harry’s crush on Draco.” 

“It’s not a crush!” 

—

It’s the very next morning after your conversation in the common room when something bizarre happens to you again. You had successfully evaded Theodore for a little over a week, and sometimes you could feel a pointed stare aimed at you. 

As you’re pouring orange juice for yourself during breakfast, a letter drops in front of your plate as everyone gets their post. Confused by the envelope, you cast a charm to make sure it hasn’t been tampered with before picking it up. 

There wasn’t a sender address on the envelope, but as you neatly tear it open and unfold the paper inside, you realize that you knew exactly who it was from. 

The words were neatly written on the paper, and even without the letter’s content, you already recognized the penmanship. 

Meet me after dinner tonight? Astronomy Tower. 

Don’t worry, you’ll be back before curfew. 

P.S. Do you need my notes again?

Unable to stop yourself, your head shoots up and towards the direction of Draco’s friend group. Immediately, your eyes lock with Theodore’s and he sends you a small smile, tilting his head subtly to ask for your answer. 

Slowly nodding, you feel warmth flood your face as he breaks into a pleased grin and his eyes twinkle in victory. His expression catches the attention of his friends as they all immediately stop their conversation and follow Theodore’s gaze. 

Your eyebrows nearly shoot off your face as you’re suddenly under the scrutiny of the slytherin circle. Surprisingly, Draco doesn’t jeer at you but rather smirks at you ominously, but surprisingly not with malice. Blaise and Pansy look back at Theodore and whisper furiously, their words seemingly so obscene that it tears Theo’s gaze from you and to his smiling friends. 

You weren’t sure if you should be worried. Swallowing down your nervousness, you carefully fold the letter back up and tuck it away into your book bag, keeping your head down for the rest of the meal. 

– 

Your day seems to pass by in a blur, and soon enough you’re rising out of your seat during dinner, eyes trailing to glance at Theo, whose attention darts to your rising form. 

Harry raises his head to look at you in confusion, “You’re done eating already?” 

Nodding quickly, you plaster on a reassuring smile to settle your nerves, “Yeah, I’m just going to go take a walk. I’ll meet you guys in the common room before curfew.” 

Your friends bid you farewell and you pace out of the hall, seeing Theodore push his plate back out of the corner of your eye. Not ready to face him quite yet, you pick up the pace as you head towards the Astronomy Tower, head filled with racing thoughts. 

As you enter the top tier of the tower, you walk towards the ledge to look at the sky, deciding to just leave the door open for Theo. 

A few minutes pass before you hear footsteps approaching you, your shoulders tensing in anticipation. 

Theodore slowly makes his way to stand next to you, resting one arm on the stone ledge and maneuvering his body to face you. Unable to face him just yet, you opt to break the silence first, “So, why did you want to meet with me?” 

“I thought you would have figured it out by now. After all, you’re quite brilliant.” Amusement colors his tone, and you were sure he was smiling at you right now.

Feeling your brain lag at the sudden compliment, you turn your head and survey him with questioning eyes before finding your voice, “It’s not like you to do all this.” 

His lips tug a little at your attention, “Like what?” 

Turning your body to face him fully, you’re keenly aware of the warmth emanating from his body, “Like approaching people you’re unfamiliar with and giving them your notes. Asking them to meet up with you at night. Helping them with their potions. You’re not possessed are you?”

Theodore’s nose wrinkles in amusement as his smile seems to grow impossibly wider, “So you watch me too. But no, I’m not possessed. I think we both know what the deal is though.” 

Dropping your shoulders as your nerves seem to turn to jelly, you release a shaky sigh, “Then, you like me too?” 

Your eyes flit across his face quickly, watching his eyes widen slowly. Smiling at you in fondness, he carefully brings up his hand to cup your face, his cool rings soothing your burning cheek. 

His thumb slowly brushes across your cheek and he steps closer to your figure, leaning to close the distance between your faces, but leaving just enough room to have you wanting more. 

His gaze flickers between your lips and eyes, finally breaking through the silence that settled between the two of you, “Yes, I like you too. Have for a while.” 

You can’t fight your smile, and Theodore seems to be unable to wait any longer, ducking his head further towards yours, “Tell me to stop if you’re not ready.” 

Laughing breathlessly at his words, you bring your hands to rest behind his neck, tugging him closer to close the faint gap between your bodies, “Not a chance in hell.” 

Theodore brings a hand to wrap around your body, quickly connecting your lips. His firm grip on you has you melting against him, and you’re sure that the world completely stopped in that moment, nerves running like fireworks in your body. 

You both break apart for air, donning identical grins of bliss. Unwilling to let you stray too far, Theodore doesn’t loosen his hold and opts to softly nuzzle his nose against yours, occasionally planting kisses on your cheeks. 

Rubbing circles on the back of his neck, you softly laugh as you suddenly remember something, “Hermione was actually the one who helped me realize that you liked me.” 

Humming at your words, Theo only pauses briefly from kissing your face to answer, “Remind me to thank her.”

Smiling softly at his clinginess, you pull your head back to get a good look at him, “Didn’t realize you were the affectionate type.” 

His eyes are hazy from bliss, and he cranes his head forward to try and bring you back to him before answering, “Hm, well the last week has been rough with you avoiding me. ‘M making up for it.” 

Your laugh echoes around the room, urging Theodore to lean over to nip at your ear, “What’s so funny?” 

Carding your fingers through his soft lock, you have a fleeting thought about curfew before you brush it aside to answer him, “Nothing much. Just didn’t think you would get pouty about it.” 

Reeling back at your words, his mouth parts in playful shock, “I don’t pout, baby.” 

“That’s good since we should get going before the prefects head out.” Your words are met with a loud groan and Theodore does the exact opposite of your suggestion, deciding to instead bury his face in your neck and cling onto you. 

– 

“Oh bugger off! He was being the biggest baby of the century all week long, ‘I don’t pout’, my arse.” Draco’s crude words have you dropping your mouth into your hands to muffle your laughter as Theo was left to gape at his friend’s words. 

Pansy nods in agreement and grabs your free hand like a relieved mother, “Trust me, I don’t know what you see in him, but I’m so glad you’re here now.” 

You beam brightly at the girl, coming to realize that your previous anxiety about meeting Theo’s friends was just a waste of energy–they were nothing like your presumptions. 

“Happy to be here. I was honestly driving myself mad all week trying to avoid Theo.” You don’t miss the wounded look the boy throws at you as he begins to tug on your elbow to try and drag you away from his friends. 

“Theo? I remember when I tried to call him that once in third year and he nearly incinerated me.” Blaise raises his eyebrows teasingly at your deflated boyfriend, unable to resist poking fun at his usually stoic friend. 

Huffing a small laugh, you interlace your fingers with Theo’s before stepping back, “Dating privileges, Zabini. Now, it was nice talking with you guys, but Theo might die from embarrassment if we linger around.” 

You barely manage to say your farewells to the group, before Theo is steering you away by your shoulders, muttering up a storm about his friends. 

“Don’t be lax just yet, dear. You still have to talk with my friends, remember?” Your reminder has the boy straightening his posture, evidently unsure with how to approach making conversation with your capricious group.

“They’ll like me, right?” You nearly melt into a puddle at his words. 

“Hermione? Yes. Harry? Maybe. Ron? Not a chance. But I like you, and that’s all that matters. Besides, Ron is too scared to incur Hermione’s wrath to threaten you, so he won’t try to hex you or anything.” Patting his chest reassuringly, you begin to drag him through the castle, set on finding your friends. 

Smiling to yourself, you were sure that your sudden relationship with the slytherin would encourage your friends to confront their own crushes. 

“Oh, I think I see them! Theo, you can’t get out of this with your puppy eyes, now come on!” 

masterlist

[cookie-crumblr]

I miss professor reichsgraf

GN! Bad Student Reader x Professor OC!

Minors DNI

CW: GN! Reader, reader referred to as they/them, no body descriptions for reader, lots of swearing tbh lol, reader is RUDE (just because they’re sleepy! we still stan🥰) spanking, pet names for reader(good kitten, darling), Sub!Reader, reader has hair(not described just enough to grab), fingering (not specified which hole dw), nipple play, crying reader, tetro?, overstim, dubcon(no proper safeword), sado maso, p in hole, not proofread.

(IDK i hope it turned out okay, it doesn’t seem the way i want it, but i can’t tell rn if it’s just me T.T)

“You are, quite possibly the worst student i’ve ever had the misfortune of teaching.”

You mock him on the phone with your bestie.

“Stupid ass over qualified teacher.”

“Fur reaaaalll. my gods, what an asshole!” they respond.

“It’s too bad he’s so hot. What a waste.” You resume what you were doing and hold the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“I would tap, i wonder if he’s into that like teacher/student play…” they trail off.

“Ew. please don’t fantasize about my dickwad professor. At least with me around,” You feign gagging.

The next day in class you’re slouching, hoping to the gods that he just forgets you exist so that you can try and catch up on your assignments… But Fuck it’s so hard! You don’t have time for school work when you’re home, because you’re usually sleeping, after your two jobs. And all these pompous professors do is give homework!!! ALL OF THEM.

It’s the end of the ninety minute mark and you, along with everyone else, starts packing your things.

“Y/L/N. Stay behind a minute.” Professor Reichsgraf sighs, and tosses an empty cup into the trash can.

“Uuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhg!” You groan, thankfully the room is loud enough that he might not of even—

“Gods, you’d swear I told you that you’re going to jail,” He laughs. He’s sat behind the desk a little slouched like normal, head in a hand, elbow on a stack of papers (probably so it’s more comfortable) you tsk out loud at your thoughts, before pretending to yawn.

What a class A assho-

“Have a seat,” he asks.

“This will take that long??” You sigh out frustratedly.

“Gods, you young peop—”

“Oh don’t you ‘young people these days’ Me, mister!”

“It’s Doctor.”

“Oooo big dif. Fuck off” You cross your arms and roll your eyes.

He rolls his own, “Just sit.”

With a *plop*! into the seat, you do.

The professor stands, his hand lazily traces a knot in his desk as he rounds the table and approaches you slowly. “I don’t usually do this…”

“Woah, Um isn’t there like a rule against—”

“What!?” He furrows his brow then massages it quickly between his finger and thumb. “No, i’m offering to tutor you,” He sighs in annoyance.

“Oh really?” You would still really like to at least pass… “Okay fine.”

“What? really? no deals needed?” He looks you over.

shrugging, you say, “I mean what are you offering?”

“Nope, it’s a done deal, you already signed the dotted line crossed your t’s and all that.” He steps ever closer, and leans on the table you’re sat at.

“When do we start?”

~

You’ve had a few sessions with your professor but nothing seems to be working, the information just isn’t sticking until…

“Bend over.” Reichsgraf growls, head in his hand in frustration.

“Excuse me?” Your brows raise in shock.

“Bend over my knee, right now. You aren’t learning this way.”

You think at first he’s lying. Just trying to make you uncomfortable or something, maybe a bee flew into his coffee this morning so he’s taking it out on you. You don’t know. But you do it. You get down, lay over his lap and wait.

His hand massages your rump, “Now what’s the answer to number five?”

“A?”

A hand comes down onto your flesh with a *Smack!*

“Ow!” You yelp! “What the fuck!?”

“What is the answer to number five? Don’t just guess.”

“Is it not A?” You ask, it looks right… Right?

*SMACK!”

“OW!!” You yelp again, louder this time, it stings so much more the second time!

“You know the answer.”

“C!” You suddenly remember something he said about it yesterday, and he’s right, you did know the answer!

“Good job, I’m impressed.” He isn’t lying, he really is. Only two spanks on the first time? Maybe he had been hoping for more though, to be honest.

It’s a unique way to have to learn like this, but with you, he’s happy to oblige. All the time spent being frustrated that you couldn’t commit even the simplest knowledge to memory, he can finally get rid of…

“Okay now six.”

“Do we have to do the whole assignment like this?”

“Yes. Six.”

You shout, “A!”

*Smack!*

“Shit! I mean B!” You wince.

“You guessed again. Read the answer, and tell me why it’s correct.”

“Do i have to? I got it right that time.”

Suddenly the hand on your rear moves to your clothed sex, he presses down hard and trails along the divide. A gnawing heat starts to grow in your lower half quickly.

“Hey! wait-!”

“We don’t have the time. what is the answer to seven?”

“D!”

“Good Kitten,” His baritone seems even deeper somehow, as he rubs you harder, your jeans are getting too hot to bare. “We need these off.” He tugs on your back belt loop.

“Yeah…” You shock yourself when you agree so readily. You stand to unbutton them and get them off, but he slaps your hands away and takes your pants off for you.

Your body gets thrown around until your bent over the desk and the wood’s digging into your hip bones.

“Professor-!”

A growl escapes his throat. his hair is messier than usual when you turn back to look, before he grabs yours and steers you forward.

His fingers enter you first, already setting a fast pace, he curls them and scissors them; all while pistoning so fast you feel like you’re already teetering on the edge. “Such a good kitten, you’re doing so good for me,” He hums deeply in his throat.

You whine and wriggle, until he tenses his grip in your hair and on your hip. His hand fans out over your skin and gropes you the entire way up to your chest, pressing a traveling dent into your stomach and over your ribs. Your brows peak, and your mouth hangs open.

“Seven.”

“SERIOUSLY???” You stomp, way to take you out of it.

*SLAP!* Your ass was sore from the earlier abuse, to be slapped now stings so brutally!!!

“F-fuck!!” You shake.

“Seven. Now.” His hand is raised and prepped to hit you again.

You shimmy and jump, “No, no more please!!”

*SLAP!*

“AHH!” You screech! “ummm,” You read the question rapidly through bleary eyes, “D! D! It’s D!!!” You shout and writhe in his grasp.

“I’m so proud of you, I knew you could do this,” He rubs something cooling on your ass cheek and it feels so much better!

“Oh thank you thank you oh my gods.” you let out so much air you feel dizzy. His cock starts to rub against you, making your dizzy spell last longer. it’s so hot and hard and.. LONG! Holy shit it’s so long! You’re gonna be speared to death on that thing! You drool at the anticipation! “Fuck me.” You say it in a long groan as an expression but also mean it very much.

“You deserve it, you’ve been doing so good,” Holy shit, his words strike some heavenly chord that opens your pearly gates wide for him, and he enters without resistance, taking his time to really appreciate your interior.

“Holy shit!” You can’t help the obscenities, they just fall from your lips naturally, you’re so surprised at all of this, at yourself for willingly doing it, at your hot teacher for wanting you in the first place, at so many things…. Most of all at how HOT his dick is like molten lava inside you and it feels fucking DIVINE.

“You’re such a good kitten,” He rubs you as you take his length.

His movements are calculated, every single one. No matter how fast they hit your spots like a master martial artist targeting pressure points. You aren’t getting a break from his assaults every strike is a critical blow. Even when he slows down his spongey head sweetly kisses those spots igniting obscene fires that don’t have time to burn out before being reignited fully.

You’re getting close, so painfully close to a volcanic eruption, your bubbling!

“Cum for me, darling” He leans down over your back, to whisper into your ear, his voice gravely and so low.

“AHH!!!” You scream out and your whole body goes rigid and convulses, his own cum shoots inside you and you take all of it.

“So good for me, you took me so well, darling…” His eyes practically have hearts in them.

[pep-rambles]

Lucifer is a Swiftie headcanons because I kin this man so much I am projecting my other hyperfixations on him

But also I mean c'mon,

Look at him

yes there is RadioApple in this

-It probably started from Charlie. When she was in high school (post emo phase obviously) she may have enjoyed Taylor Swift (maybe Fearless got her through her senior year because I can't stop projecting) Lucifer started listening to try and have something to bond with his daughter about. But about the time Charlie kind of lost interest is about the time Lucifer doubled down on his obsession.

-He has been to basically almost every Eras concert, usually in really good seats because many a swiftie has offered to sell their soul for tickets. He said keep your soul just let him tag along.

-He is definitely an Evermore stan mostly because of relating too hard to the divorce narrative of it.

-Speaking of, Charlie has threatened to lock him out of his Spotify after catching him on the floor crying to “Champaign Problems” on repeat too many times. She never would but most definitely tried to ban him from listening to it for a month.

-She then caught him crying to “You’re Loosing Me”

-Angel Dust is most definitely  Beyhive (killer bee probably) and though initially joking that they are rivals the two men bond over their love for the two queens of pop, recommending songs and videos to each other.

-Angel is a Reputation Stan though 

-After one of Lucifer’s many tiffs with Alastor,  Charlie is expressing her frustration asking her dad why can’t they just get along and Lucifer explains that he doesn’t trust Alastor because “I think his ever-present grin is a little troubling” and is a little upset when she doesn’t get it 

-One day, Luci is sitting in the Lobby doing his work while listening to Taylor on shuffle. He’s casually minding his own business jamming out to one of her poppier love songs and Alastor wanders in commenting on the “Obnoxious trite little diddy” Lucifer doesn't even hesitate to take the bait

L: HOW DARE YOU! SHE IS A TALENTED GODDESS!! A DOWNRIGHT MUSICAL CHAMELEON! You are such a snob Alastor! Good music didn't stop getting made after your tiny little lifetime.

A: I never said it did but it's certainly not this frivolous noise!

L: Oh, you uninformed uncultured cur! She is a fucking poet!

He then proceeds to play examples for Alastor of her most creative and heart wrenching lyrics (he absolutely makes Al sit through all 10 minutes and 13 seconds of ATW) 

After all that though Lucifer will never get Alastor to admit that he finds T.S. musically talented (or that Lucifer did in fact catch Al tapping his foot a couple times)

        -Alastor does come to Lucifer, after a bit of research, admitting that though he does not find her music enjoyable, he respects her business cunning. Luci figures that's good enough. For now. 

-because I bet my non-existent Eras tour tickets that Lilith was a hater. I’ll leave it at that.

-OP works at Barnes & Noble and let me tell you there are about 80 different Taylor Swift magazines that even my swiftie ass thinks is excessive but Lucifer has every single one

-including the Taylor Swift paper dolls magazine (yes this is a real thing). He probably gets a few because he convinces Charlie to use them as a team building activity.

-He has at least 3 copies of each of the covers for the 2023 TIME Person of the Year magazine. 

-Also all cardigans. On a casual day he definitely lounges in them and has a set rotation of when to wear each one (and I am totally not gonna draw that nope)

-Well, it seems Lucifer is no longer crying to the depressing break-up songs on repeat but now he seems to be angrily listening to “Gorgeous” on repeat. Charlie asks him about it and he goes full denial mode “No no Charlie I'm not thinking of anyone specific, I've just been really into this song lately.” Everyone else in the hotel, besides Alastor, has already figured out what's going on

Alastor: If I have to hear that obnoxious noise one more time I will reduce that tiny maniac’s room to rubble as well as the abode of whatever sad sack is making him play it.

Angel: *knowing smirk* I'm gonna hold ya to that one, Antlers. 

-Al may very well hear it one more time if Lucifer uses it as his confession song (I don't fully commit to this headcanon, I just think it's funny) 

-Anyway boy’s probably in his Reputation stan Era b/c LWYMMD is like his long overdue big F-YOU to Heaven song 

btw this is NOT gonna end at these headcanons I am running with this idea like scissors.

@nunalastor

@julsiemagne

@nose-nippin-fun (I know you're not a swiftie but we talked about this so idk if you care I can un-tag you if you want)

[whalesforhands]

it exists only here

geto suguru holds onto your ghost in the trivial silence of the night.

HBD GETO SUGURU

“Geto-sama, you have an audience with an Amano Kiriko and her father in approximately 30 minutes.”

The cult leader doesn’t say a word, the stalk of pink carnation getting nicked a little too close to its petals for his comfort, his pruning shears threatening the beauty of the flora in his hand.

He thought he had it this time.

Now it’s too short. The osmanthus flowers he had spent so much time intricately placing together will go to waste… Dumb rocks and leaves that took way too long to work in harmony with each other. He sighs, frustration coursing through his tensed arms whilst staring down at the already ruined flower despite the beauty it still retained. It just didn’t fit in well with the image he had in mind. So beautiful, yet so useless now.

Should he just redo it? Amethyst orbs follow the stalk up to where it’s now currently being held up to the hanging lamp light, whiffs of its sweet scent reaching his nose as he glares. He ponders and ponders, his eyes closing to savour the fragrance.

So sweet.

“Tell Amaya-san we’re postponing. I’m busy.” Can’t you see how preoccupied he is with this? It obviously takes precedence over some worthless monkey.

A little more suffering won’t do them any harm.

The silence drags, yet Manami Suda does not break the tense stillness any further, does not even correct her superior on his mispronunciation. What use is there for him to remember a mere monkey’s name?

“Understood, Geto-sama. I will move your meeting back by 40 minutes.” She bows low, her gaze kept towards the ground before she turns on her heel and makes her way out, shiny hair bouncing with every step as she makes it a point to close the door behind her as gently, as silently possible.

It seems that her handsome boss is having one of those days again.

A quiet creak of his door and heel clicks that disappear with distance until they were no more.

It’s now that he realizes he’s alone again, silently staring down at the blush pink of the petals in his hand. He twirls the stalk over and over between his fingers as the silence stretches and stretches. It overwhelms him, his thoughts just a little too loud in the blaring quietude.

“Suguru, you don’t look well.” A warm hand against his forehead, your worried gaze and a soft voice. Touch shifting away and making him nearly chase after your comfort.

(Just for a little longer.)

“Have you been eating properly?” You’re sad, lips downturned into a frown that makes him regret ever looking so gaunt— So weak. He wants to placate you, wants to assure you.

“I’m fine—“

“Nope!” An interruption of an all too boisterous voice, lanky arms immediately hooking around both of you as you’re both pulled towards an all too excited Satoru. “So what say we go out and treat him some good ol’ soba?”

His head is starting to hurt again. A grit of his teeth and shears clattering onto the wooden table, frustrated sigh and slumping of his shoulders to ease this tension within his body. He doesn’t want to think, doesn’t want to feel so… Bad.

It’s only then that his hands reach for the book that was upon the chabudai he sat at, trembling fingers finally making contact with the old paper, the slightly frayed pages easing the stress in his mind, the roar in his ears.

His fingers would trace well-worn, yellowed pages of an all too old shoujo manga, familiar pages that had a noticeable dent in them from how beloved they were by the previous owner. It takes him back, makes his hands reach into traces of the past. Away from this headache inducing present, away from his pain.

“There you are. I bought those famous Kiyoken shumai—“ He freezes in his tracks, his eyes widening and eyebrows raising in shock and worry when he chanced upon your teary gaze, your expression akin to a deer caught in headlights as you look at him with shiny, gemlike eyes and tears that had already spilled, rolling down your embarrassed cheeks.

He takes only a moment to recover, only silently walking forward to plop the plastic bag onto the dining table, giving you a quick once-over before patting your head, as you squeak in stunned surprise, his hand combing down your hair gently before he turns on his heel, steps heavy, quick and a threatening smile upon his face. He starts cracking his knuckles for good measure, his aura flaring into one of intimidation as he gets ready to beat a certain someone up.

“I’ll kill him.”

“S-Suguru— Wait! It’s not Satoru’s fault!” You’re already up on your feet, running to intercept him and grabbing onto his arm, using all your strength to hold him back as you feel your socked feet start to drag across the floor, his strength uninhibited by your attempt.

An innocent, accusatory lilt of his voice as he stops, turning to face you. “Oh? I don’t feel very merciful today—“

“I was crying because of a manga!” Blurted out with a shameful, humiliated voice, your arms hugging his one to your chest even tighter. Your eyes are squeezed shut as your face burns and burns with growing mortification that makes you want to curl up and die and possibility cry even more.

And that calms him down in an instant.

That memory still makes him chuckle, a hand under his chin as his eyes blink at the imagery formed in his head. Mindless flipping of the pages causes him to land on a scene that’s been bookmarked far too many times. He knows this line by heart.

“Till the stars fall down and empty from the sky—“ You sniffle, cutting yourself off and letting Suguru dab the tears treading down your cheeks as you don’t even try to resist, or even pull away from his thoroughly amused self.

“I-It’s just so romantic, okay…?!”

“Hmm?” His smile only seems to grow wider as he leans forth, handkerchief is abandoned in favour of using his thumb, gently tapping at the tears forming again in the corner of your eyes to tease you. “I wouldn’t really know if you don’t finish, will I?”

“B-but I’ll just cry—“ You quickly press his abandoned handkerchief to your nose, a sorry attempt at trying to drag your expressions away to quell the burning shame of having to face him. “Way more, Suguru…!”

“Cry all you want then.” His hand goes to hold your cheek, settling your face in his hand and chuckling as he pats your head, smiling softly, gently, warmly at the way you’re starting to bawl even harder somehow. “I’ll be here to wipe your tears away for you.”

A lock of his hair flitters in front of him, breaking him out of his nostalgic trance as a breeze blows in, as if caressing the strands with tender curiosity. A hand reaches up to thoughtlessly twirl it, amaranth eyes finally opening to bring himself back to reality.

Should he cut his hair soon?

“Suguru, you cut it?!” Satoru holds the boy’s face in his hands, shaking him back and forth and whining his disappointment. “Whyyyyyy?! How could you do that to our beautiful hair?!”

“Our…? Satoru, last I checked it was attached to my scal—“

“No…”

You’re devastated as you sat behind him, fingers slotted inbetween smooth strands that have now been slashed into shortened locks, trampling on your dreamy imagery of his gorgeous hair, your arms hugging around his waist from behind as your face buries into his shoulder to weep for the loss of his beauty.

“Our pretty hair…”

“…aren’t you both being a little overdramatic?”

He feels his heart shake, an ache that yearned to be eased when he opens his eyes to realize that he’s all alone. No matter how far those memories seemed to be, whenever he closed his eyes… It always seemed to be filled with an image of those precious days.

Steadying himself with a sigh and getting up onto his socked feet, he stretches his arms and lets his joints pop.

He should stop thinking about these things.

——

It’s fun.

Geto Suguru is having fun. A stutter in his chest, a fleeting feel in his heart as he exchanged blows. Different from those other students, so similar to that certain someone. Dodging, parrying, summoning, running, bleeding.

So fast. So purposeful in every hit, so unnatural, so talented.

Okkotsu Yuuta was the perfect sorcerer. A curse technique with so much potential, an aura of budding, endless possibilities. Why, oh, why does he still stand with the lesser beings, the lesser race?

His wooden clogs skid across concrete as he stands his ground, a smirk of condemnation and displeasure evident as he spits out a mouthful of blood and metallic ire.

He’ll show him. Show this boy the disparity of their power, the difference in their leagues of playing field as he wipes the remnants of crimson off his mouth, the stinging bruise upon his cheek from where he was bunched pulsating with an urge to destroy. To conquer.

“Cursed Spirit Manipulation: Supreme Art,” A taunting point of his finger upwards, crazed grin upon his face. Bear witness to his overwhelming strength, to his irrepressible supremacy. He doesn’t need anything else when he’s drunk off of power. “Uzumaki.”

Swirling black and daunting shadows form at his fingertip, echos of screams and damned cries of the beasts he’s consumed billowing within.

“Okkotsu,” His face is in a state of a proud, manic insanity, shivers of lustful victory trembling his bones. “I’m glad I could kill you before you managed to fully wield Orimoto Rika.”

This is it. Geto Suguru’s victory, the beginning of the end for this Jujutsu Society. Once this boy dies, he will absorb the Queen of Curses, he will be strong enough to finally change this wretched world for the better.

Would he be satisfied then? Would he finally feel that he’s avenged—

Okkotsu Yuuta doesn’t say a word, a shining determination in his gaze as his back is turned to his enemy, a tentative hand upon the curse that followed him as he called her name. The name of the girl he had known, had loved all this time.

“Rika.” A small whisper into the cursed being’s supposed ear. “I’ll give you everything,” A breath is taken. “My body, my heart, my soul…”

Geto Suguru wants to feel disgusted at the sight.

“I love you, Rika.”

The light hits the silver of the young boy’s ring, metal glinting and catching the attention of the cult leader who was kind enough to let that poor kid say his final words.

“Thank you for always protecting me.” It’s odd, repulsive, Suguru thinks as his ears catch wind of those sugary sweet lines. How warm those words feel, how they’re said with such a bittersweet mirth, how it’s almost like it resembles your—

“Suguru.” Your voice is quiet, your presence a fading comfort as he barely feels it within this empty room.

He feels a phantom warmth, a non-existent touch lightly caressing his cold, gaunt face. A contact that he doesn’t want to let up as his hands reach up only to feel nothingness and an unbearable lurch of his throat.

An aftertaste weighs heavy on his tongue, like a rag that had been used to wipe up vomit. Ringing in his ears as his nose feels clogged, nigh unbreathable. Does it even matter if he doesn’t reply? Will it matter if he tries to will away that distorted voice of yours?

Geto Suguru sees red, sees looming metal doors, hears the thundering jeers of a cult, hears a scream of your name, feels the building terror and anguish of his heart in full.

Feels like he doesn’t know why you’re here now.

Think, Suguru. Why are you of all people appearing right in this crucial moment? What do you want? What are you trying to do? What are you trying to say?

If you had one thing to say to him right now, what would it be?

“Thank you for falling in love with me.”

A sharp intake of air to snap himself out of it, the odd chorus of Yuuta’s voice and yours mixing and mashing up in his head, his pupils dilating and finally focusing back into the battle at hand. It isn’t like him to lose his focus like this. Isn’t like him to get so distracted by a haunting thought.

“Aren’t you quite the player, Okkotsu Yuuta?” His words end on an annoyed growl, a building temper to supplement the forgotten rage in his heart.

But this is what he wants, isn’t it?

“That’s rude.” Okkotsu Yuuta is deadpan, his face set in a tone of utmost sincerity and seriousness.

“This is true love.”

And Geto Suguru wonders if that’s what went wrong as he gets swallowed by an explosion of pink and white.

——

Geto Suguru thought he would at least go out with more grace. A little more flair, in a burst of Hollow Purple or a deep Red.

But not like this.

Not with his back against an alleyway wall, slid down to the ground in pathetic defeat, not whilst he’s missing an arm, bleeding out and searingly painful.

Not while Gojo Satoru stares him down like that in his final moments.

“You’re late,” He just can’t help the smile on his face that forms as his voice traces those beloved words after far too long. “Satoru.”

An exchange of words, their conversation that took place. From the safety of Suguru’s newfound family, to the battle with Satoru’s students… Suguru realizes that what was once his cold, hardened heart was starting to stir with nostalgia, a flutter in his chest that makes him want to get lost in this conversation for just a bit longer; even if the expression on Satoru’s face was blank, empty.

Even if he never smiled at him anymore.

So he takes his time, drawing out each word and sentence and mindless thought that had been churned into a flitter in his stomach that makes him think that it isn’t so bad to be on the losing end.

That it isn’t so bad that this is his end.

And when all was said and done, it goes silent. Comfortingly so in this bitter atmosphere that makes him forget about the stale iron in his mouth and his defeated heart that had nothing left to hide.

It’s hard to say that Geto Suguru was satisfied just yet.

“Do you… Still think I’m a good person?” It’s sudden, a taboo scab nobody, not even Geto himself had wanted to pick at. A wound that never quite gelled over. But— It’s fine because it’s here. It’s fine because it’s right now. Because these trivial, meaningless conversations are what make him feel whole, make him find meaning amongst all his doubt.

“Yeah.” A pause as the honoured one takes in a breath, the squeezing of his palms into tight fists as his glowing eyes begin to soften to shimmery radiance. “I bet she would still think so too.”

That’s not true. Geto Suguru feels, knows it just cannot be, no matter how much his broken heart yearns to believe it. It’s for that reason that he finally lets out a laugh, eyes turning into crescents to match his satisfied smile.

“I killed tons of innocent people, you know?”

There’s no way you would ever look at him the same way.

“You can go and ask her personally, then.” Gojo Satoru sounds so steady, so confident and brazen with his threat; that it sounds like a consolation to Geto Suguru, that it leaves him in utter disbelief at the man’s faith in him, his belief that a damned person like him would ever get to reunite with the likes of you.

Though, it brings him peace in this moment.

“Maybe I will.” It’s his final reassurance, stemming from a hope that he gets to be together with you once more, a last solace for his painful, aching soul in the silence that follows after.

“It’s disappointing, Satoru.”

His eyes blink as he leans his head back against the grimy wall, letting out a breath to soothe the staggering gnawing at his conscience. “That I couldn’t wear a heartfelt smile in this world anymore.”

Not when it turned out like this.

A beat passes, and yet another as Suguru finally feels his body beginning to crumble, vision starting to blur as he starts to see brightness in his dimming eyes. It’s okay. It’s okay now because—

It’s over.

He sees his beloved squat down, coming down onto this pitiful level to meet eyes with him. What is he—

Sincere blue to fading purple, parting lips that start mouthing words that he didn’t think he deserved to hear. He knows that goodbyes are bitter, that he’ll never be ready enough to hear them.

That he’ll never be able to accept that you’re gone.

Yet, even as it reaches into his ears, he didn’t expect the weight, the pressure that makes the tiniest semblance of regret swirl in his heart, slowly realized into a wish that he could rewind time to hear Satoru’s voice that teeters upon a breaking sorrow once more. Just one more time.

“We’ll meet again, right?”

Geto Suguru can only laugh, letting amusement enshroud his expression as his neck cranes towards the light in which his one and only Gojo Satoru shrouded. It’s so stupid, so in character for someone like him.

“At least curse me a little at the end.”

This is how he wants to go. There’s nothing else he wants to long for now… Not the Queen of Curses, not the utter desire to destroy non-sorcerers, not the bloodthirsty revenge and grudge he held against the Jujutsu system— He just wants to feel at peace from the hands of his other half.

This is it.

“Take care of her until I get there.” Wherever you both end up, his final message and blessing from just Satoru to just Suguru. A responsibility given to him that Gojo hopes comes true. All because he hopes it’s peaceful where you both were, that it relieves you both of the hope that made you hurt more.

Suguru’s parting smile is bittersweet, a blush upon his face as enchanting purple finally hide away, finally put to rest with the last of his cursed energy dissipating. A ‘goodbye’ is something he’s no good at, a ‘see you later’ far too unfulfilling. He wishes he could find kinder words as he lets his heart speak his truth, breathed out in a whisper so tender.

“Don’t be late again, Satoru.”

previous next

Notes:

Pink carnations: I’ll never forget you.

Osmanthus flowers: True love.

‘Till the stars fall down and empty from the sky, if you’re with me then everything’s alright.’ - Everything’s Alright from To the Moon (nvy’s favourite game)

[illuminatedmysticc]

Girl it feel like nothing makes sense because all bloggers say different things??? So does this world exist?( What I am seeming with the eyes?) because some of y’all say no and others say yes. Then when asking if we can “achieve” certain things some of y’all say yes and others say no.

It just feels so discouraging to them ask only to be met with i) “go within” ii) “I am not talking about x stuff”

like we are asking because you all say different things?? And SOME OF US WANT TO GENUINELY KNOW??!!

It has made me completely go back to LOA because this (all of the misconceptions) just feels so.. sad

None of that is misconceptions or misinformation tho.

Yes and no are correct depending on what you already know, yes “ “ can achieve something and no not the person you think you are. The world exists and it doesn’t - all depending on what you know and with all due respect if you don’t know yet , don’t send asks like these because it’s a little embarrassing to blame everyone but your own understanding of YOURSELF -> advice from a anonymous friend

Don’t make the mistake of confusing “ “ / SELF with the person you think you are ( insert name) -> @clochettesworld

The person you think you are is not creating a false world Nope Agnes is not doing that

This is very simple to understand

The person you think you are is not “ “ / THAT / AWARENESS

Awareness is everything and nothing

Good luck on LOA I really hope the best for you 🫂

[tgmsunmontue]

Online & Anonymous 3/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

Odd year = Bradley's POV and Even year = Jake's POV

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005/2006 2007

2008 – Jake

                Flight school.

                Four years at USNA and now he’s back in Texas, the familiarity seeping into him like a homecoming and part of him cannot believe he made it into flight school. Not that he’ll let anyone else think he had any doubt, but he is inwardly fist pumping, outwardly trying to pretend it’s no big deal. He doesn’t care if it comes off smug, he does feel a little smug, that he obviously good enough to have been selected. Damn it feels good. And also such a relief.

                He’s good enough.

                He wants to share it with Nick. Doesn’t of course. While he trusts Nick with pretty much every little piece of vulnerability when it’s related to his sexuality and experience in that arena, his career is shaping up to be another huge part of his identity and he doesn’t need help or guidance from a guy on a website on how to best work on this aspect of his life. He feels like he’s got this one. After a few months though he decides to share, in a vague way, because he’s been getting comments from his instructors.

                Approval.

                He’s doing well.

>>You ever accomplish something that people didn’t think you could do?

>>That even you maybe didn’t think you could do?

>>HA.

>>Yes.

>>Feels fucking amazing to prove them wrong.

                Jake grins at the screen, wants to tell him about how amazing it is, being in the air. How much he loves it, the rush of the pressure pushing him back into the seat as he takes off. The

>>I got into my first choice of programme. So yeah.

>>Does feel pretty good.

>>Well done. Proud of you.

>>Thanks.

>>Think you maybe need to believe in yourself more.

>>Maybe.

>>My parents didn’t.

>>Don’t.

                He hasn’t talked about his parents with Nick. Talking about your parents generally doesn’t come up when your jerking off with another guy online, but they talk about a lot of different stuff now and it fits with this right now. He feels like Nick might get it.

>>I came out to them and they kicked me out.

>>Oh shit. I’m sorry.

>>I mean, it’s not a competition but my parents are dead so I can understand that feeling of loss I guess? Like they should be around to support me, but they aren’t.

>>Sucks more for you I think. They’re alive and are just bigots.

>>I was lucky to already have a place to go.

>>I’m extra proud of you.

                Pensacola is a different beast than boat school, everyone seems to be a little smug that they made the cut to be there, and Jake lets himself absorb the culture. He tries sleeping with a woman only to find that he can apparently have worse sexual experiences than his first time with a man, and of course he finds himself messaging Nick.

>>Bad sex with a man is still preferable than bad sex with a woman.

>>You give in to peer pressure and hook up huh?

>>How did you know?

>>Been there, done that. Got the tshirt.

>>As a gay man I have to tell you that even bad sex with a man rates above mediocre sex with a woman.

>>Why do people care so much where you want to stick your dick?

>>I like that rhyme. And I have no fucking clue. Mystery. It’s not like gay people haven’t always existed.

>>I’ve got a friend, female friend, who knows I’m gay, and she let’s me use her as a beard sometimes. Everyone thinks we have an on-again off-again fuck-buddies type thing going on.

>>So you’re still not out to people.

>>Nope. Would make work impossible so I just –

>>Hide in plain sight.

>>Huh. I wonder if I could get one of my friends to cover for me.

>>A lot less women in the military. Good luck I guess?

>>Well. I think one of my friends might just lie for me. Tell others that he saw me leaving with a hot chick or something. He’s the best wingman.

                He stares at the message, wishes he could call it back.

                Delete it.

                It’s too close to home.

                Wingman.

>>Definitely need a good wingman if you’re planning on cruising. You got bigger balls then me if you’re going to try and do it while you’re not on leave.

>>Are you sure that’s safe?

>>It’s not like they’re following me and putting cameras in rooms. I just need to be careful. Although so not worth it most of the time. But it would be kind of nice to have the option if it did present itself.

>>Yeah, I’m sure guys are just falling into your lap in the military.

>>I mean, they might be and I’m just not picking up the signs. They’re probably so repressed they wouldn’t be any good anyway.

>>I’ll leave that for you to find out.

>>Not sure if I should be wishing you luck or telling you to be careful.

                Jake isn’t sure either. He probably not going to risk it.

…            …            …

                It’s not always possible for them to have instant communication. He gets interrupted sometimes, or Nick isn’t available for days at a time, sometimes weeks, and his own schedule is erratic. However he’s always had time, made time, to chat with him since they found each other and he doesn’t have so many close friends that he can afford to ignore one.

                “What are you always doing on your laptop?” Javy asks and Jake feels like time freezes around him for a split second. Javy is one of the few people he’d count as a friend, his easy-going nature dealing with Jake’s prickliness effortlessly, seemingly patient and just waiting for Jake to come around. They were at USNA together and it wasn’t until they shared all their third- and second-class summers together that Jake had thought that maybe they could be friends.

                “Talking with a friend. He travels a lot.”

                He feels like it’s not actually a stretch of the truth, because he’s figured out that Nick moves around, the times he can talk inconsistent, meaning different times zones. He’s always assumed that Nick is American, but now he knows that the website they’re using to chat is actually based in England, and for all he knows Nick could be anywhere in the world.

>>Are you American?

>>Will you stop talking to me if I say no?

>>Of course not.

>>I’m shaking my head at you. You’re meant to be all patriotic being a member of our military. Shouldn’t be communicating with the enemy.

>>You just called it our military. Pretty sure you’re American.

>>Caught out. Yeah. I travelled around a lot as a kid. Tennessee, California, Virginia, Maryland and even Texas. Who knows, we could have walked past each other and never even known.

>>Yeah. We could have. That would be a weird coincidence.

                “You know, if you ever want to tell me something, I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.”

                Jake’s head snaps up so fast he’s surprised there isn’t an accompanying sound.

                “What?”

                “Just. Uh. I know if there was something, you can’t tell me. But if you did, and I’m not asking you to, but if you did, I wouldn’t be letting anyone else know. No telling on my part, that is.”

                He blinks.

                Holy shit.

                That’s pretty much Javy saying he knows, or at least suspects, that Jake is… something other than straight.

                “Just, once second. Just let me say bye…”

>>I think I’m about to come out to a guy who is my best friend in real life, because you’re my best friend in not-real life, plus we have sex and I do not want to ever have sex with J, but uh… I think I might be sick.

>>I’ll talk to you soon.

                His conversation with Javy goes around in circles for a little bit, Javy not willing to ask outright, and Jake unprepared to speak the truth; terrified to voice it. Then Javy gets fed up, places his hands on Jake’s shoulders and just stares at him, expression serious.

                “Jake. You’re the closest thing I have to a brother. There is nothing, nothing,” he stresses, “that would make me stop loving you as my brother and best friend. So, if in some hypothetical world you felt brave enough to tell me that you were… gay, then it wouldn’t change anything for me. I just. I got your back no matter what okay?”

                Jake can’t form words, grabs Javy into a tight hug, he’s biting his lip so hard it hurts, might even be drawing blood and he nods.

                “Thank you.”

                “Any time man. You want to go shoot some pool?”

                Jake lets out a shaky breath and nods again.

                They spend several hours together, in which Javy seems to want to really impress upon Jake that nothing is going to change between them. He still uses his body to shove Jake out of the way when he shows Javy up at pool, still slaps his ass in a vain attempt to distract him while playing darts, grabs them beers and doesn’t pull his fingers away when they accidentally brush like Jake is somehow going to take that as a sign of something more. He can have friends that know and they won’t hate him.

                It’s a revelation.

…            …            …

>>How did it go?

>>I’m kind of worried about you.

>>Hope you haven’t done anything stupid.

>>Or been beaten up.

>>Dishonorable discharge.

>>Fuck Jas, please tell me you’re okay.

                Jake stares at the flood of messages and feels touched, but also a little hysterical, because none of those worse case scenarios are going to happen. He trusts Javy with his life, he can definitely trust him with knowing.

>>I’m okay. Sorry.

>>It was fine. He had pretty much guessed and we talked about it. He’s the best.

>>After you.

>>Glad to know I haven’t been replaced.

>>I appreciated you for the orgasms.

>>Oh. Okay. Putting me back in my place.

>>Prefer you to put me in my place.

>>Really now? You in the mood huh?

>>Yeah.

>>Fuck. This is awful timing. I’ve got to leave in like five minutes.

>>Can’t take care of you like I want to.

>>That’s okay. You can go out and do what you need to do, and while you’re out you can think about me, jerking off as I type out what I want to do to you.

>>Unfair.

>>Hot though.

>>Shit. I’ve really got to go. I look forward to reading whatever you leave me.

                Jake grins, a little nervous. He’s gotten better at this, anything he does regularly for a few years becomes better, but he doesn’t know if it’s good. Not without Nick offering his constant feedback. He always finds what they talk about together the best, but Nick has left him plenty of messages that are just descriptions of what he wants and likes that Jake wants to return the favor.

>>I want to go down on you, suck you off until you come. I want to kneel in front of you and take my time, learn the taste and smell of you. The texture of your skin under my tongue and fingers.

>>I want to do it while I’m in my uniform, because that feels taboo you know? Want you to rub the head of your dick over my lips.

>>Want you naked so I can touch everywhere.

>>I start off slow, a little cautious because I want you to fuck my face, but we’re going to need to build up to that, stretch out my mouth and throat a little, let me gets used to the feel of you in my mouth and throat.

>>I really want to do this. I’m hard just thinking about it. Like the idea of your hand on my head, just guiding me, think I’d enjoy fingernails scraping my head.

>>I want to do this with a guy with no condom, I want to taste the skin and salt. I want that trust as well.

>>I’d trust you.

2009

[txtmetonight]

Two Slow Dancers

call summary ⋆ ★ As a young child, you preached over the thoughts of soulmates. Huening Kai had too, believed that two souls intertwined like puzzles–fitting perfectly. But sometimes, it’s almost too fitting to be true.

pairing *. * Huening Kai x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ Angst

warnings *. Death, Cheating, Blood, Pregnancy, Bad Grammar, Crude language

call duration⋆ ★ 6.1k

a/n*. * Zoowemama 😍 finally wrapped up this series lol i'm js a bit late but whatever. ermm hyuka is an asshole ngl :(

taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet//@oreoqueen // @woncheecks//@probably-too-obssessed// @matcha-binz

The Mitski Diaries Masterlist

The idea of soulmates is beautiful.  

It’s astoundingly astronomical how the stars believe that two fated souls are meant to be intertwined, are supposed to be carried with one another while death does them apart, in their graves with smiles on their faces because... they had each other. You like the word “each other” for it means you wouldn’t have to die at the hands of loneliness, strangled by its cruel hands, which you beg for it to stop. 

Though you detest the word “had”.  

Your mom has your dad. Your older brother has found your sister-in-law. And your friends were dating their boyfriends, some already turned into fiancés. And you had Huening Kai, arguably the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. You were supposed to have him, but you had him.  

The walls of your bedroom walls were non-existent with personality, not a splotch of color that you could find for you wanted to wallow inside of your broken heart. You were to not make it past the age of twenty-one because your soulmate doesn’t love you anymore. You are dying of a broken heart and cannot do anything to stop it. And so, you cry.

You suppose that you hate Kai, but you really don’t. You can’t because that’s what fate had written down for you. A tale of despair between a couple that couldn’t hold much of a spark even through what the universe had chosen for them.  

You and Huening were a special case. And it hurt horribly the day that he had admitted that he had strayed off the path of love for you two. You weren’t the best with feelings, so you let him go as you watched with shame and a burning face that you wanted to melt off. He didn’t hold you in his heart anymore...but you still do, so what are you supposed to do now? Laugh? Forget?  

The answer was to do nothing at all and wait until your last day. 

And tomorrow is it.  

Does it smell like a school gymnasium in here? It's funny how they're all the same

You don’t prefer the new layout of the school gym at all. It crawls and picks at your skin in the way that the floorboards are now a shade of dark brown, and the walls are plastered with flourishing paintings that in your eyes look hideous. But the smell of familiarity still stuck in between the crevices of the gym, holding nostalgic memories that hurt to uncover.

The floor underneath you squeaks, but there is no one except for the meek moon there to listen to the way that your feet drag, unable to lift them for their heaviness has grown with immense dread that burns. The heavens twinkle in delight...at the way that you sorrow. But you’ve grown accustomed to the way that they laugh, drinking in that they will soon gain you through for such pathetic reasons.  

You’re just a bit early but you wanted to swallow the tremor in your throat before you officially meet him. And you want to hide how weak you’ve been getting; you can barely even stand up on your feet for too long before collapsing and your breath seems to run out faster from your lungs with a fervor that makes walking seem like a laborious chore.

You want to stay strong, to uphold an image that you want to be. Wanted it as a mask. But you couldn’t afford it, nope not at all. Not even as hard as you tried, with your memories of heartbreak holding you back.  

The bleachers are cold, and the stairs lead up into a cloud of darkness that you couldn’t peer through even as much as you squinted. The bottom step is made from wood, the only thing that wasn’t even bothered to be renovated, and you cross your legs, patiently waiting for the man of the hour.

You’ve already exchanged goodbyes with your family, have done a few days ago just before you locked yourself in your room, mindlessly hovering over the pictures that the walls held, smiling faintly every once in a while. And you find yourself doing it once more, scanning over the gym where you spent four years of your life, rotting away, piece by piece.  

The door creaks open amidst the silence, but you don’t jolt. Footsteps echo immensely, bouncing off the walls before they abruptly stop, leaving you to slowly snap your head to the shadowy figure that occupies just near the end of the bleachers. That’s where you used to meet up with him, just as the bell rang. You grin. 

“That stupid team is taking up all of your time with me!” Kai grumbles, pulling you closer by the straps of your backpack. Hair a mess and face flushed, you giggle at him and pull off your sweaty headband to launch at your boyfriend, who whines. “Are you not proud of me for making it in?” You snort, looking up at him to find him staring down at you with a soft smile that makes your heart churn.

“Of course, I am. You’re so sexy when you perform.” He dodges your hits with loud chuckles but then quiets down into a large pout. “It’s just that, I feel like we don’t spend that much time together anymore. And they’re like...stealing you away from me. Just say that you want to date your team and be over with it.”   

“Oh hush, stop being dramatic.” You reach over to place a chaste kiss on his cheeks, but he smugly turns his head to connect his lip with yours, which you don’t complain, pressing into him. “And plus, we have all the time in the world to be together. I’m yours, no?” 

You quickly avert your eyes as your stomach aches and stare at your shoes instead, tapping quietly. 

It's funny how you always remember

“Do you still dance?” The voice booms, and it’s comforting yet alienable to you. You take a second to pause, watching the figure walk closer and closer to where you currently sit. “No. I had to give it up.” You don’t provide an explanation, but you’re sure that he knows why.

“It was your whole life.” He rasps and suddenly you don’t think you’re ready to see him, because the moonlight lights his face up with a luminous glow, he almost looks like a fucking angel.

Your body reacts to the sight before you even realize it, and you lurch painfully as tears prick your eyes, coughing quite violently into your palms. A stingy smell of metal meets your nose, but you don’t pay mind to it the way that Kai does, eyes wide with a fearful shadow on his face. Turning to him, you wipe the liquid on the stairs and scoot over just a bit. 

“So were you.”  

“I’m sorry.”  

You shake your head and sigh, patting the space next to you. He hesitates a little but stalks over with long, slow steps, his hands curling into tight fists that pierce his palms before he relaxes them again–a habit you’ve seen countless amounts of times. Your eyes trail up over to his hair, and you notice that it’s a soft brown, just like he used to have it when you were with him and it makes your fingers tremble when you know that dyed it on purpose just for you. He knows.  

It was blonde just a few days before–but you’ve always liked brown on him.  

Kai is stunning and has always been, but he seems unreal as he sits down next to you with a golden face and soft smile that you can’t rip your eyes from, however hard you try to. And the way that he stares at you, penetrating your skin with a sharp glare that melts you inside, sends rolls of lightning down your back.  

“How have you been?” He’s tender when he speaks and gentle as he lifts his fingers to brush away a strand piece of hair from your face as if you were going to break if used much force. Yet the contact leaves your muscles spasming with pain, softly trying to grasp your leaving breath. Huening flinches too, pulling his hand back with a light gasp. “Oh no, I didn’t know that was going to hurt.”  

You can’t help but pull a smile and chuckle. “That’s alright. Honestly, I’ve felt worse before.” His eyebrows furrow but he doesn’t say more except to encourage you to answer his previous question with a shaky grin.  

“But...I think I’ve been fine? How about you? You’re dating someone aren’t you?” His lips turn at your words, and he softly grasps your hand beside him, your eyes widening at his sudden reaction. This time around your lungs don’t choke, but you think that you’re being drowned alive as Kai’s eyes drown with unexplainable tears. But you don’t do anything, instead, you intently watch him try to get words out, gaping like a pitiful fish.  

“Fuck I don’t even know why I’m crying...I just... I’ve been doing good too.” His flushed cheeks carry words that he couldn’t say and so you move just a little closer, but it feels wrong, especially when he another woman that he had at home waiting for him...but it wouldn’t hurt to indulge, right? “I shouldn’t have asked to meet up, should I? I’m sorry” You whisper, rubbing his cheeks.  

“No please don’t. I’m happy that I’m with you right now. I’ve missed you so much.”  

His words leave a blowing punch to your gut, as you lurch into him, gripping his hands tightly as you start to sob. Kai’s touch awakens sparks up your back, which just worsens when he pulls you closer to him, hugging flush against his chest. You feel like you’re floating as if you’re traveling between time and space, as if everything around you is actually okay... 

“Baby please don’t cry” Your boyfriend whispers in your ear, threading his fingers through your hair, wrapping his arms around your trembling figure. He’s warm like a blanket but that doesn’t stop your onslaught of tears that burn like acid on your cheeks.

Kai places his hand over yours and pulls it up to his lips to gently kiss before his other hand comes to wipe away at your face. His own eyes are overflowing but he stops them for you, trying not to crumble. You sniffle and bury yourself in his neck, trying to calm down your racing heartbeat.

You’ve never preferred to cry in front of others, rather liking to shed tears in the depths of your room but with Kai, you think that you’re safe with your feelings. You think that he’s the one for you to get rid of your sadness, the one that you’re going to love the most because he was Kai and possibly crying was quite stupid since he was your fucking soulmate.

Not your neighbor’s or your desk mate, he was yours. And maybe that’s why you were crying right now, but you didn’t want to dwell on it too much. 

“I think that this such a bad time, but I think that you’re really pretty right now.”  

Choking on a sob, you lift your head from the crook of his neck to stare at him with a curious look, lips puckering into a pout at his sudden confession that leaves his face in a sheepish matter. “W–what?” Grabbing his cheeks, you furrow your eyebrows. “I don’t know why you’re sad, but god I can’t help it. You’re so beautiful and it hurts that you’re crying.” And before you know it, his lips that were just on the side of your jaw pulls you into a slow kiss, soft and tender.  

Just like right now.  

And we've both done it all a hundred times before It's funny how I still forgot

After you two had parted ways on behalf of Kai, your lips would burn each time you wanted the affection of another. Maybe it was the universe refusing your attempts at another love or maybe you just couldn’t move on, but Kai’s lips on you right now are soothing but it churns something heavy deep in your gut. You’ve forgotten how he tastes like candy and how his lashes flutter shut, cherishing the intimate moment and the way that fingers paw at the base of your neck, asking for something more.

You want to blame it on the instincts or the muscle memory at the way that it doesn’t take you a second to push yourself into him, but you knew that you craved his touch for years on end, battling with serious heartache that will eventually end with you in your demise.  

Demise.  

Using your fingers, you gently push Kai’s face away from yours with wide eyes, chest stuttering rapidly. His own eyes draw big, but he doesn’t do anything to move his palm away from where it sat on you, instead, it feels as though he is digging it deeper into your skin. “You don’t love me.” You mumble, almost cry. “You’re not my soulmate anymore or else I–” 

“Would’ve lived. You would be next to me right now and you would be healthy and breathing just fine, and definitely not coughing up blood because god forbid you have it easy!” He gets loud at the end, and his words bounce off the walls, diminishing into nothingness. “But I want you to pretend.” Kai breathes and it makes you mad, furious.  “I don’t want to fucking pretend! This is my reality and I–I just...”  

You initiate the kiss this time. And he hesitates just a little before he leans in. This time around though it’s a bitter feeling of guilt, that fills up your senses and you can tell that Kai felt the same in the way that he squirms around.

A woman quite pretty and just his type doesn’t know her boyfriend was kissing his ex-lover. Was sitting dolled up for him as his hands roam around your face for a feel of something. You feel bad but you can’t stop as your heart slowly stops as the night becomes young and perhaps that’s how you’re trying to rekindle it again. By kissing him.  

You suppose that you hate that word now too. 

“I wish that we could go back again.” Kai pants against the corner of your mouth, finally pulling back a bit to observe you. You don’t know what to say so you avert your eyes and kick a spare gum wrapper from the floor.

“Whatever I guess.” You’re awkward but it’s unfamiliar to you when it’s with the person you’re with right now. You’re left speechless and so is he in the way that he nods his head and leaves not a word hanging in the air after you, and you realize that he’s right. You want to be young again without a thought in the world.

You want to talk again, and not through the monkey’s mouth like you were doing right now but through your actual teeth and tongue that used to chatter nonsensically. You want to breathe through your nose, not through an elephant’s trunk and you wish to be you again. Just you; but you assume that you’ve lost yourself years ago.  

It would be a hundred times easier If we were young again

Only twenty-one and you feel old, dying from blood that cannot be filtered through your veins due to a decaying love story that cannot be revived. The boy in front of you knows it too, but he still tries as he grabs your arm again, palms gone so cold that they stick to your skin like ice. “We have more time.” He says and shakes you out of the daze that you find yourself getting into recently.  

But as it is And it is

“You’re right. Do you want me to leave?”  

He shakes his head ‘no’ and rises to his feet, steady as he holds his hand out for you to take. “I want to take a walk and I’ve been longing to dance with you right after.”

Your fingers curl up against his palm before you’re forced to reel back once more, retching into your elbow as tears prick your eyes, the dark gym flashing into and out of view. Kai is behind you with pats of sympathy that you detest, yet you let him hold you up securely against him.  

“You’re okay” He whispers, and it takes you back to when he used to calm down the anxious tremors that used to encase you whole and it takes you a second to not let everything crash down when you realize that he was the one who was able to cake it down to a mere once in a while occasion where you would have internal panicked spikes of a heartbeat.  

With his comforting words that used to rely based on reassurance and love, you can’t find the affection when he says it now. It’s just you two, but it feels like others are crowding around you with jeers possibly along with the universe and those above taunting you. Because just like he said, they wouldn’t let you have it easy–to be the last ones out.

  

We're just two slow dancers, last ones out We're two slow dancers, last ones out

The gym is square in shape but is jutted out in some places to make room for the front doors and the locker rooms. So, when you and Kai walk, you must avoid the cracks in the wood and instead circle around them.

You don’t know how time has passed along so fast being with him, but you realize that the clock had always ticked faster, since the very beginning, you just weren’t ready. You weren’t sure–or rather prepared if you wanted to spend your time with the man beside you, spend your last breaths with him but the way that he stuns you to no limit makes you swallow down morsels of regret that coat your throat.

He’s quiet and so are you, which lets you have an eye of proper observation of the boy next to you. Kai, who you know from the bottom of your heart, is older than you last saw him.  

It hurts you think. Perhaps more than the scalding pain in your lungs that choke for proper air.  

He’s stayed the same height, but he’s grown into his face, more chiseled features that make you sway because–you couldn’t see him turn into the twenty-one-year-old he is now.

And you’re stuck staying the same, while he gets to change even more, which is not particularly fair yet when you press a soft kiss to his jaw (you’re sure your body moved on its own to blind you from the internal mess you were creating) you wouldn’t want him to have it anyway for fate has already played its tragedy covered cards. 

“You’re pale” He rumbles before he places his palm over your forehead. “And warm too. You have a fever.” And for some reason when he says it with a quiet voice, it pulls back more weary wrinkles into his face, and you wince. You must wonder how you look to him. “I suppose so. I’ve been at my sickest recently.” You mutter, throwing in a weak smile.  

And the ground has been slowly pulling us back down You see it on both our skin

“How much does it hurt? On a scale of one to ten” He says, holding up ten fingers which one is enveloped with your own hand, bringing both of his arms down at the same while he chuckles. “I dunno. Right now, I would give it a... seven point five?” Kai nods solemnly and suddenly you feel small underneath his gaze. “Is that so? I wonder how it feels?”  

“Really bad” You nervously laugh, swinging your arms back and forth in a constant rhythm. “It’s been harder to get out of bed, I just wish...wish that I had more time.” 

“I wish I could give you more time, to live longer. I’m sorry that I can’t.”  

You nod but you’ve fallen into a certain comfortable trance that the conversation is deemed normal to you. Odd and craving for more but no emptiness that leaves your heart desolate. The talk is sentimental and rather than wishing that you had more time to experience the world’s wonders you want more time to chatter with your heart’s content. Talk for years and years with your soulmate. You believe that you deserve it.  

“Do you remember the first time that we met?” Kai softly asks, coming to a halt in front of the doors that lead to the outside corridors. You twinkle and say, “How could I not.”  

You were running late. And in your first year of high school too. The clock screamed that it was currently 8:03 but you were supposed to be in your homeroom by 8:00 and you pray that Mr. Yoon accepted your tardiness with a flourish of his hand.

You’re drenched with sweat and your uniform is tugged wildly and your hair is askew with bits of it falling in your face, but you don’t pay any mind as you try not to crash into the lockers from your crazy sprinting.   

“Oh god!” You cry as you find that out the main doors to your science hallway, where your homeroom sat was locked and so you take a quiet of a big U-turn and make headway to the gym (which an older senior slipped to you was the way to escape the looming locks that the doors had to prevent tardy kids from getting in).

Fortunately, the first-day tour had paid off and you knew that the gym was exactly a hallway down to the left, so when you skid off, your feet landed you exactly in front of the door, tall and brown with a few splinters sticking out.  

“Please be open, please be open, please be open!”  

And it was open. But not by you, but by a lanky boy withholding stacks of papers.  

Perhaps you were blind because of the exhilaration in your veins, or he was just clueless about the desperate girl outside of the door, but you both head butt each other with a hard push, both falling to the ground with a loud grunt of despair. But that quick rush of anguish turns into something more magical. You feel as though you’re on cloud nine, fireworks bursting in your veins as your eyes blur in and out to adjust to the brighter look of colors–a more glowing appearance of the world.

Your fingers tingle and your tongue swirls with a hint of sweetness that you just couldn’t put your finger on. And the ache on your forehead had turned into a pulsing feeling of coolness. Since you were young, you’ve heard and read about the feelings of love and how pure it could be, but you think that the words that have spilled into your ears haven’t given justice to how exactly refreshing it was.  

“Holy...are you okay?” A voice sweet as honey makes your spine shiver with glee. “Yeah, I’m alright, but oh no! I’m late!” You cry, rising to your feet with panic but you’re suddenly held down by a gentle hand.

“It’ll be okay. Let’s go the nurse’s office and say that we had a nasty fall...but all my papers that I was supposed to give out fell.” A boy with the most stunning features you’ve ever seen, pouts at the fallen papers, and your heart practically jumps out from your chest, unable to stop smiling.

You would wonder if he had felt the same explosions as you, but the way that he trembles from the graze of your hand over his shoulder speaks wonders to you.  

“I’ll help.” You assure. 

“I–thank you.” He breathes and suddenly he can’t seem to take his eyes off you, making you feel warm inside. “You’re very pretty.” The unknown boy says, and you flush which makes him laugh.  

“What’s your name?”  

The boy smiles and throws you an eyebrow raise. “Huening Kai. But everyone calls me Kai!”  

Grabbing a piece of paper from the floor you respond with a small pep in your voice. “Yeah? Well, I’m (Y/n).”  

The first date you two shared was in the nurse’s office.  

And many more followed after that yet too less for your liking. 

You don’t even realize that you’re crying but you’re happy. Happy to be where it all started. The gym was the home that your heart lived in and the place that it chose to die. It’s warm. 

Turning your head to Kai, you’re startled to find him already looking at you with a glossy look and a mouth that betrays itself to speak its true words that itch his teeth. You wait patiently though but the silence allows the jarring sound of a ringtone to pierce the air and fade the sentence on the tip of Kai’s tongue.  

"I–oh fuck, Yuna’s calling me.” Kai’s voice stutters and your stomach drops into reality once more.  

We get a few years and then it wants us back 

You’re falling once more, drenched in cold water at the way that his fingers leave your touch, how his lips quirk up into a smile that used to be dedicated to you, and how his tears dry up so easily without a hint of anguish. He’s sweet and you’ve always known that he spits out candy compliments that were sickly as sugar, but it stirs a burning sensation deep in your throat.

And maybe it’s not even how he loves her, but how he makes it so that all of it was an act–that you were a complete fool for thinking that he had an ounce of adoration for you or even pity.

He’s the one that kissed you so softly and sweetly first, but he talks as if you were nothing to him like you weren’t the one that he was supposed to be destined for. 

“Hey sweetheart...I’m hanging out with a friend right now.”  

You can’t feel your legs anymore. The bones in your knees have turned into jelly, but you can’t do anything but woefully stare at him with a longing look of gloom. 

“I’ll be back soon, I promise. Hang tight, I’ll make it up tomorrow for Valentine’s Day, how does that sound?” 

Perhaps you’re going to faint because your vision suddenly spins like a carousel. You’ve always found it ironic how you’re born on the day of love and yet you’re going to die because of it. And now you crave to celebrate your birthday extravagantly instead of wallowing in your sorrows as you did in your previous years.

You wouldn’t be too old, would you? To toast a to yourself? 

It would be a hundred times easier If we were young again

But you chuckle at how you’ve been through it all on Valentine’s day; born, lost your other piece, and soon enough die as you choke on the waters of love. You feel the thorns of the red roses that grow in your stomach filled with envy and yearning, cut into your esophagus, releasing ruby red to drip into the pits of your stomach.  

“Good night. I love you.”  

But as it is And it is

You don’t realize that you’re on the ground until Kai cries at you, hurrying by your side as you sew out copious amounts of blood that your body refuses to keep, all the burning endearment that you’ve held to Kai being let out.

“Hey baby, oh god, you’re alright.” His fingers wrap underneath your waist to pull you up, uncaring of the red that splatters his shirt. You feel like you’re on fire, as you scratch at chest for any type of relief, sobs ripping from the bottom of your guts.  

He pecks your cheeks then your nose, and the corner of your mouth before he moves his lips to your forehead. Huening is certainly frantic with his touch and usually, you wouldn’t mind, but you want to squirm.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, alerting you of how much ever time you have left in your life. 30 minutes. "Oh gosh...” You manage to rasp out, crying at how terrified you feel. Kai must’ve sensed the fear that rolls off you in waves because he hugs you as tight as he can.  

He’s an asshole but you can’t help but love him. And it stabs you in the gut. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay” He chants but you shake your throbbing head, trying to get up from the icky floor. “You can’t–you don’t know that!” You wail but Kai doesn’t pay any attention to your protest, gripping your hand so you don’t fall onto the ground again. It takes you a second to not wobble, using his shoulders as support when you close your eyes. He kisses your head again and stays there, swaying.  

“I fucking hate you.”  

Kai doesn’t react. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re a...a horrible asshole.” You splutter before you grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him. He matches your desperation, even as the taste of metal coats his tongue. He pulls away for a second and crawls his hands over to your face, cradling you in his cold palms.

“I want to dance with you. Just one last time.” When he said that before, you weren’t sure if he was serious but as soon as you nod, he rubs his hand down your sides to place on your hips. 

“Just one last time.” You repeat back to him.  

Kai is swift with his feet but not as fast as you. His hands swing with grace, but they don’t beat the way that you make your arms float. Or how you swivel around, flying with charm. You two are in your room, dead at night, but a soft slow song plays its notes. You feel love in the air.

The pads of your boyfriend’s fingers thread against your skin, pressing into your waist. He spins you around, but his eyes never leave your own pair, and he thinks that you look like an angel like this. An angel in his arms–he’s possibly the luckiest boy in this world. He ghosts over your neck before he moves away so he can tug you into him once more.

Kai presses lingering kisses all over you just to hear more of your giggles. And once the song stops singing, leaving a quiet atmosphere in its wake, you trip into your bed. It’s warm next to him, and cozy and you would like to spend anything here next to him for the rest of your life.  

To think that we could stay the same To think that we could stay the same

It’s the same this time around, but his touch on you is cold. Your sneakers squeak on the ground and you’re definitely not poised with your moments, but you wonder if Kai sees you as beautiful as you were in your element when you were younger. You spin and try not to fall, but you trust him to not let you trip over your own torment.

There’s no music this time except for the beating of your heartbeats, one slowing down and the other racing with adrenaline. You both are growing apart as you two did before, not in sync with anything anymore. You kiss his neck and feel the goosebumps that arise.  

The moonlight watches with tears in its eyes and the wind comes to a stop, letting you two soak into each other in peace. The grasshoppers hold their head down in pity and two doves stare into the depths of the lake, hearts aching. And you’re growing weak with each passing moment which Kai can feel in his arms. 

His tears start to plow down his flushed cheeks.  

To think that we could stay the same 

Your vision starts to fade in and out, but you don’t give up, leaning into the boy. He coordinates your arms to place them along his nape, pulling you close. You’re dying and you know it more than ever how life seeps out of the pores of your skin. Yet you feel a sense of tranquility, dancing slowly with the love of your life.  

“I love you.” You whisper, nuzzling into him. You’re trying to calm his breathing down as he sobs. He cries and cries while you slowly mumble sweet nothings into his ear, closing your eyes which he realizes before he slams his lips onto your mouth.

Blood fills your mouth with agony and your lungs wheeze unable to get anything, but you don’t pull away, relishing in his honey mouth. 

“Oh fuck! I’m so sorry. So sorry about–about–Yuna! And everything. I’m such a horrible person.” Kai howls, eyes widening as your arms go limp around him. Your legs give but he keeps you upright against him.  

“Am I just a friend?” You ask. 

He shakes his head wildly. “No!” 

You weakly laugh at him. Your time is up. “Then good. I’m your soulmate. You’ll remember that won’t you?”  

But we're two slow dancers, last ones out 

“I’m so sorry (Y/n)” Kai mumbles, holding out a bouquet of flowers for you to take. “What...what do you mean that you don’t love me anymore?” You say voice cracking in the middle, gently pushing away the flowers in his hands, his eyes falling down to his shoes in shame. His silence says a lot and you take a step back. “Why?”  

“I don’t know. I just don’t feel that spark anymore.”  

You scoff and angrily wipe the tears away from your face. “I’m your soulmate, you just can’t–” 

“I’m so sorry.” He cuts you off, eyebrows dipping down. He still looks so beautiful in your eyes and so you sob. Kai places the flowers by your feet and turns to walk away, opening the doors of the gymnasium to escape into. You feel discarded as you watch him, but you want to throw one more word in before he leaves you to be. There’s a burning sensation in your lungs.  

“You better remember that I’m your fucking soulmate the next time you...you date someone else. Because I know that there will be no one as good as me, no one else that will make you feel like that!” You scream, throat raw. You're hurting everywhere when he whips his head around, tears glinting in his eyes, making you hiss pathetically.  

“I know.”  

When you fall against him, he stumbles onto his legs, your heart-stopping in its glory. A shrill silence follows through before it’s cut by his screams of pain. He feels your death through his veins as the universe spoon-feeds him the truth. His tears feel acidic on his skin but the ones that roll down your cheeks, are more painful than imaginable. His heart tears into two.  

“Happy Valentine’s Day...and birthday, love,” Kai says into your neck, pressing kisses into where you would be able to feel your heartbeat, hoping that they could revive you. 

We're two slow dancers, last ones out 

Kai has never thought much about having a family–except with you. But here he is in the hospital room with his wife, tears running down his face. Yuna thinks that he’s happy, and he believes that too, but he knows that there’s a lingering sense of prickling at his heart.

February 14th holds a special place in his heart for many reasons that thinking too much about brings great pain to him. Yet a baby should drive happiness, no? 

He’s now a father to a wonderous daughter.  

But as he stares at her, he wonders if he’ll actually ever love her. He’s having doubts. He drags his attention to his wife who is not his soulmate but a woman that he loves. But she’s not you. He doesn’t have a family with you, have kids with you...so will he ever harbor great attraction to them. Like he does to their mother, he knows that he doesn’t love her as deeply as he did with you.  

“What should we name her?” His wife asks, staring at his brown hair that got mangled in a mess. 

A name leaves the tip of his mouth, eyes widening before he realizes what he just uttered.  

“(Y/n).” 

She smiles and the deep veins of hatred infiltrate just a little bit deeper. But when the little girl in his arms yawns, he finally cracks. And when he sways with her, just after her mother falls asleep, he dances with love. 

Two slow dancers, last ones out 

It’s alright. He’ll love her forever because he couldn’t do it with you.  

[indieyuugure]

So would TMNT Indy Mikey have a love interest or are me and TMNT 2012 Really the only ones to have the idea and push it? Just curious

Nope.

My version of Mikey is still kinda of the opinion that kissing someone is totally disgusting. I don’t mind the idea of Mikey having a special girl(more so if it’s later on in the series when he’s older), but I don’t really want there to be a ton of romance in my version.

I already have Leo and Karai, Raph and Mona, and Casey and April, so I feel like if the plot doesn’t require other relationships to be formed/exist, I don’t need them, and won’t write them. All of the mentioned relationships have a necessity to the plot, meaning that I’ve written everything together so that the characters’ relationships are important to the greater plot and can’t be removed without the plot not making sense anymore.

I was actually very on the fence about doing any ships at all because of how polar people’s opinions seem to be. I’ve found people are either completely okay with ships, or they wish they didn’t exist. I’m pretty in the middle, but I think I lean more towards no ships. Ultimately the deciding factor was that when I started writing things out, I realized that the ships I was already considering could be used in my favor when writing various parts of the plot.

But, anyway, coming back to your question. Currently? No, I haven’t written anything in the way of romance with Mikey. Renet is a little kid, and I don’t (currently) have a Shinnigami in my world, so that kind of gets rid of all of those potential romances. I know that you ship Mikey with Alopex, but I don’t have an Alopex either.

I’m not strictly against the idea of Mikey having a girlfriend, but I don’t see a reason to incorporate more romance into the story, so I won’t.

Good question! :]

[siryouarebeingmocked]

So there's this web novel called Worm.

[art source]

 It's about a dark and edgy world that's full of superpowered folks, and which is, therefore, about three steps away from dystopian collapse. Many places are already there.

The story is about a teenage bullying victim who gains powers, and uses them to become a very dangerous supervillain, despite her best efforts.

And anyone familiar with the RWBY fandom may have just gone "wait, this sounds familiar. Are there a lot of fics where a main character gets an alternate power set?"

Yes, yes there are.

In this fanfic I'm about to complain about, Taylor gets an already existing power that's already broken.

Canon has "Path to Victory", which is almost literally just an "I WIN" button. It tells "Contessa" what she needs to do to succeed at almost any goal she wants. She's a big blindspot for people who can see the future.

Some powerful entities can't be accurately predicted, she can't predict how people will "trigger" and get their powers, and she's terrible in space.

Taylor has the darker, edgier little brother. Which is just an "I WIN" button, with no “almost”. It means she gets to do whatever she wants, and she’s a borderline sociopath.

Someone tries to mind-whammy taylor? Nope, doesn't work.

Contessa tries to use PTV.on Taylor? Doesn't work.

Look, this is obviously, transparently a stompfic. And there two ways to go with that.

ROFLSTOMP, or take it seriously.

Make it a humour fic, or focus on how the protagonist seems strange to those around them, and how they see everyone else as strange in return. Also how the protagonists actions affect various people and the system. 

If you want challenge just give them mutually contradictory goals. The power can't do x without risking or losing y and certainly can't take care of z at the same time.

I read a Harry potter story which gave Snape the path to victory and the last published chapter was snape sitting in a bar trying to figure out what he wanted to do next. Looking back, that was probably meant to represent the author.

You can tell a good dramatic story with an OP protagonist. You just have to work harder.

This story mostly worked hard on setting up literally contrived situations so Taylor can kill someone in amusing fashion. And people's amusing reactions. That's the main selling point.

And of course the author and Taylor say that she has no more moral issues with killing. Because ROFLSTOMP.

In fact, one of the first things she does is literally stomp Sophia to death.

Taylor will still go after hard drug dealers because they hurt people, but she'll leave soft drug dealers alone. And of course she hates the local Nazi gang.

In short, she's a very selective sociopath.

So the story tries to mix both types, including with Sociopolitical Commentary™. It doesn't work very well.

At one point Taylor cracks a joke about tech Bros. 

Fun fact: Worm  takes place in an alternate universe where there is a very slim chance that they would develop that particular slang. A universe that is culturally very different from our own. In fact, I'm pretty sure the original webnovel ended before "tech bro" was even really a phrase.

And when Taylor kills the local Injustice League, she gets the bounty, and decides to donate it to the city. Specifically, she announces, the general public. 

And in case anyone was wondering why it can’t be given to businesses directly, she says trickle down economics doesn't work.

Let's ignore whether that's true or not. Trickle down economics usually refers to tax cuts. Not handouts and bailouts. Also the phrase was popularized mainly with Ronald Reagan's tax cuts.

Note that superheroes and villains started appearing on record in 1984. Reagan's first tax cuts were in 1981. His second were in 86. By 1985 in the worm universe, the breakfast club came out with Nic cage as bender. Superheroes didn't go public until 1987.

So it's possible that the phrase could still exist in the worm universe.

But it does seem strange that a teenager with little interest in politics happens to use it. In fact it seems a lot more like something an adult writer from our universe would use.*

And besides all that, it's just getting one note. No char development. Even the people reacting to Taylor do it the same way.

I mean I knew this was going to be self indulgent Mary Sue nonsense from the jump, so I really have nobody to blame but myself.

*To be fair, precedent does exist in canon. There's a character called Nice Guy. He can make himself appear to be a non threat, or even socially invisible, even when people are actively trying to find him or he's slitting a throat. Which sounds a lot like the 2000s  internet feminist stereotype of a nice guy. Ironically, the character concept was originally for a girl.

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

Natural Satellite [ch 6]

An In Stars and Time AU. In chapter six, the gang faces the King. (Spoiler warning thru Act 4)

It’s been a while since you actually fought the King. Why bother? It’s not like there’s anything waiting on the other side. Just a soppy little coda that doesn’t even resolve anything. No closure. No catharsis. No point. But Isa insisted, about the dagger. He practically begged you. If you go back on your word now, he’ll probably get a lot less cooperative. Which would be inconvenient. And you can’t think of any other way to skip the fight without letting the King kill everyone. (You could bear it, when they wouldn’t remember. But you can’t do it anymore. Not to Isa.) (It hurts to die.) The King is moaning again, whining about his stupid embarrassing ambitions. Ooohh, maybe the real victim is me actually! Maybe you guys should just lay down and die! It might have a little more appeal as a musical number. Give the fight a little razzle-dazzle. But it isn’t. It’s just a huge loser, crying. You zone out.

Watching Siffrin sleep makes Isa’s chest clench. Sif was always a tiny little guy, but they look even smaller in sleep. Hat off, guard down. Hugging their knees to their chest like they’re trying to disappear completely. They might even look peaceful, if not for the dark circles hollowing their eyes. And for the way they keep twitching and flinching, like even their dreams aren’t safe.

Sif circled the tree six times before choosing their spot, fastidious as a housecat. If Isa wasn’t totally spineless, he might have asked if they wanted to rest their head in his lap. N-Not because he wanted them to!!! Or… well. Not exclusively. Mostly it was just because Sif looked so tired. Like it’d been a million years since they last got a sound night’s sleep. And also because it kinda made Isabeau want to cry, watching Sif look around warily before laying his head down on a tree root.

It probably wouldn’t offend them just to ask. Just a simple, Hey, Sif? You look pretty uncomfortable… and I’m just sitting here, so… it really wouldn’t get in my way if you—if you wanted—if you might be more comfortable resting your head on something a little less, um, made of wood? Like, I dunno… a chunk of moss, or a stack of leaves, or... or even j-just my…

But—nope! Haha! Nnnnope!! There’s no point, anyway. Sif would just say no, and then Isa would have to sit here, watching them, knowing that they’d rather stretch out on a bed of nails than entrust their sleep to him.

It’s probably for the best. Being Sif’s pillow would be distracting. (Like, really really really distracting.) And Isa’s got enough on his mind as it is.

If the time loops aren’t a divine blessing to help Mira beat the King, then what are they for? They must be related to Sif, or else he wouldn’t have been stuck here all alone for all this time. But then why would that change now? Why would it happen in the first place?

There’s a stifled squeak. Siffrin, whimpering in his sleep.

Isa’s palms itch. Of course he knows better than to wake Sif up. At this point, it seems pretty clear that restless sleep is still miles better than no sleep at all. Still, he can’t suppress the instinct to reach out, to pet and fuss and soothe. And… maybe Sif wouldn’t mind?

But he’s kidding himself. He already saw how Sif reacted when he tried. Siffrin is quicker and sharper than anyone, but when Isa reached out, they froze like a rabbit. Paralyzed. Afraid.

…Isa did that. He did that to them.

“Stop,” Isabeau whispers to himself, out loud. He needs to focus. Sif just gave him a lot to think about, and his notes won’t stick around for long. He has all these scattered shards, twisty little splinters of a larger picture that must exist. But it feels like all he’s got are edge pieces. Like he’s still missing something central, fundamental.

He just needs a little more data.

* * *

Sure enough, that article is right where Isabeau remembered: tacked to the wall on the first floor, surrounded by hand-drawn sketches and still-lifes.

None of the articles include anything particularly helpful (e.g., say, a list of weaknesses, or an explanation of how the King’s power actually works). Mostly it’s just about how he showed up out of nowhere, and how nobody really knows where he came from. But they do have plenty to say about his fashion sense.

Siffrin frowns at the photo. “Those patterns…”

"On his chest and gauntlets, you mean?" Isa asks, curious. They're not particularly eye-catching. Just a bunch of big diamonds.

"It's just a weird losange," Bonnie huffs. They’ve never had much interest in fashion. "What's so weird about that?

Siffrin just shakes their head. “Those are stars.”

* * *

Sif moves differently now. Isa couldn’t tell back in Dormont, but in the House, it’s unmistakable There’s a leonine grace; a predatory gleam. Sif weaves through the halls like a shark that’s scented blood. Cold, efficient. Utterly without fear. When they sense him, the Sadnesses scatter like minnows. They cower in corners and blunder into walls, blind in their terror.

He doesn’t slow down until they get to the library, where they hesitate in front of one of the shelves, running a finger down the sparkly, rhinestone-studded spine of a book. They don’t open it. But they don’t have to. Isa remembers this part. Mira read it to them just two loops ago. It was a diary, someone’s memory of the day that everyone forgot an entire country. Just thinking about trying to remember gives Isa the beginnings of a headache. And Sif—

Sif asked him to say it anyway.

They looked so serious. Desperate. Like they were hungry for something they couldn’t even name.

The picture tilts. A new variable, sliding into place.

…Oh, Isa thinks to himself. Okay. It’s starting to come together.

* * *

The King’s shadow darkens the entire House, but nowhere more than the third floor. His hair curls around every doorway like the twisting vines of some pallid, lightless plant that only grows deep underground. The air hums with Craft. It makes Isa’s skin prickle, makes the hair on his arms stand up straight. No matter where you go, you can always hear the clamor of the King’s sobs, a wrenching, discordant wail that sounds like it’s being wrung out of him with a wine key. It’s overpowering. Inescapable. Isa doesn’t scare easily—not in a fight, at least—and even he can feel the dread seeping into his blood. Some primal, animal corner of his brain is telling him to run. Run. Run. You’re in danger. You’re not a hunter here. You’re prey.

And just a few steps in front of him, Sif is leading the charge with an impatient little scowl. He looks distracted. Bored. Like they’re waiting in a too-long line at the market.

They know the way, too. Right turn, left turn, pick up the key and track back. A quick stop in Mira’s room, then north for another key. In the corner of his eye, Isa can see Madame Odile eyeing them suspiciously. Siffrin doesn’t seem to notice.

And then they’re at the King.

Isabeau promised not to get in the way this time, and he’s not about to break a promise. He keeps his mouth shut while Siffrin steps forward.

“Where are you from?”

The King looks straight at them. When he brushes his hair aside, Isa can see his eyes burn white. Silver-white, like Siffrin’s. “.....What about you, bright one..... Where are you from?”

Siffrin flinches.

The King laughs.

* * *

* * *

* * *

It’s been a while since you actually fought the King. Why bother? It’s not like there’s anything waiting on the other side. Just a soppy little coda that doesn’t resolve anything. No closure. No catharsis. No point. It doesn’t even tie up any loose ends. Isa’s stupid confession is foreshadowed for the whole script—now that you know what to look for, it’s honestly a little heavy-handed—and by the time the curtain falls, nothing has changed. Chekhov’s gun lies cold on the mantle. At a certain point, it’s just bad writing.

But Isa insisted, about the dagger. He practically begged you. If you go back on your word now, he’ll probably get a lot less cooperative. Which would be inconvenient. And you can’t think of any other way to skip the fight without letting the King kill everyone. (You could bear it, when they wouldn’t remember. But you can’t do it anymore. Not to Isa.)

(It hurts to die.)

The King is moaning again, whining about his stupid embarrassing ambitions. Ooohh, maybe the real victim is me actually! Maybe you guys should just lay down and die! It might have a little more appeal as a musical number. Give the fight a little razzle-dazzle. But it isn’t. It’s just a huge loser, crying.

You zone out.

* * *

You beat the King, obviously. It’s easy now. Buff. Attack. Block. Attack. Bomb. Attack. You’re never even in any real danger, so does it really have to take so long?

The others cheer, after you finish him off. You remember to cheer, too. In the corner of your eye, you can feel Isa’s gaze on you. You do not look back.

* * *

How many times have you been on this rooftop? Probably the number doesn’t matter. All that matters is that nothing ever worked, and nothing ever changed.

There’s too much in your head. You can feel thoughts ticking, tickling, prickling. Where the expanse of possibility should stretch endlessly into the horizon, there’s only history. Hindsight. Nowhere to go but back.

You look at Euphrasie.

Your whole nervous system clenches in on itself. Your blood cold and turgid; your windpipe crusted shut with blackened sugar. Your lips itch. Your throat burns. You Cannot Talk To Her Again.

Your hands twitch toward your dagger.

…But you promised.

“Isa,” you mumble, shuffling toward his corner of the rooftop. “Can I… talk to you?”

“Huh? Yeah, of course! Always!”

“No, I mean. Um. Alone?”

In the background, Odile whistles. You very graciously ignore her.

“Oh!” Isa squeaks. “Y-Yeah, I— Yeah, of course!”

You wonder idly whether he knows that you know what he wanted to tell you, back when that was still something he cared about. Probably he doesn’t. You have a history of obliviousness, apparently. But Isabeau does too.

It doesn’t matter. That’s not what you need to talk to him about.

* * *

You are keenly aware of your family’s eyes on you as Isabeau trails you down the steps and around the corner. You might feel embarrassed, if you didn’t know for a fact that this entire timeline was about to be wiped from existence.

“I can’t talk to her,” you announce, once you’ve decided that you’re out of range.

Isa blinks at you. “Um? To…”

“The Head Housemaiden.”

“...Huh?”

Oh. That’s right. You never explained this part. Probably because you didn’t want to be here. “You know how, even if we beat the King, I still loop back?”

Isa nods.

You nod at Euphrasie. “This is where it happens.”

“Wait, she—” Isabeau looks over his shoulder and then back, goggle-eyed. “Don’t tell me Mira’s mom kills us????”

You can’t suppress a snort. “Um. No. Not like that. I talk to her, and then it’s over.”

“Wa-a-ait,” Isa says slowly. “You mean… Do you mean without dying???”

You shrug.

“But… But wouldn’t that mean—”

“No.”

“But if we could loop back without—”

“No.” He doesn’t understand. Nothing hurts worse than talking to Euphrasie.

Isabeau hesitates. “But… But if she can—”

“I can’t talk to her again.” Just thinking about how hopeful you felt, the first few times—

But that was a long time ago.

Isabeau studies your face. You expect him to press you, but—he doesn’t.

“Okay,” he says instead. He exhales slowly, brushes off his hands. “Okay! Then, um, what would you normally do here?”

For just a second, your eye flicks toward your dagger.

“Ah,” Isa says. “Okay, well. Thanks for… not doing that.” He takes a breath, lets it out. “So… what do you wanna do instead?”

“…You could stab me?”

“Sif.”

Yeah, you didn’t really think he was going to go for it. “I could jump off?” You’ve never tried that before. It might be nice to feel something new!

“No???”

You scowl at him. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“...You really can’t talk to her?”

You nod. You really really can’t.

“Could I talk to her?” he asks hopefully.

You shake your head. You know you’re being difficult, but—no. He can’t! And it wouldn’t work, probably, anyway. That’s not how it’s ever worked.

Isabeau heaves a breath. “Okay. Then we just… find another way, right?”

You shrug.

“But we couldn’t figure that out last time,” his eyes flicking toward your shoulder. “We’d have to try something… else, I guess. Um. Do you… have any ideas? About why it didn’t work, or… what we could try instead?”

You think about it. You liked feeling his hand on your shoulder, you think. You think you liked it. But your cloak is thick and sturdy. You could barely even feel him. “Maybe because I couldn’t feel it on my skin?”

“Oh,” Isa whispers. “Um. D-Do you think so?”

Another shrug. What do you know? The only time touch made you loop was—

(—shut up shut up THAT NEVER HAPPENED.)

Isabeau swallows. He wraps one hand around his arm, clutching tight enough to bunch the fabric of his sleeve. “Um…”

You huff a breath. “Sorry. Never mind. It was stupid.”

“N-No!! It’s not that!! It’s just that you’re… kinda all covered up? Except your—um.” He looks away. “Your… f-face.”

…Oh.

You shouldn’t think about it and you are thinking about it, now, irrevocably. Isa’s hand on your cheek. His very warm, very large hand, cradling the side of your face. Fingers brushing your cheekbone, your temple. If you asked him, with your face burning under his touch, to tell you what he’d promised to confess, would he finally do it?

But you can’t risk it. Not here, not now. There are no more second chances. Isabeau’s already trapped here with you. Haven’t you hurt him enough?

“...Sif?”

Carefully, you peel off your gloves.

“Ohh,” Isa breathes. “Are you… D-Did you wanna…”

“I want to stab myself,” you snap, before reining yourself in. “Sorry. No. I just mean, I don’t mind stabbing myself.” It doesn’t take too long, and it always works. And it’s… yours. Not just something happening to you. “But if you wanted to try something else…”

Isa’s hand flits closer. But he doesn’t grab yours. He just—holds it out to you, palm-up. There’s an appealing flush darkening his ears, sweat beading on his brow. It’s silly, really. There’s no reason to be nervous about something like you; something that’s not even a person. But he is. It’s… interesting.

You know that you should feel sorry. You know it should embarrass you. But there’s something appealing about seeing him like this. Disarmed, unarmored. Over-exposed as a shucked oyster. It makes you feel sort of… powerful.

(Disgusting.)

You meet him in the middle. Reach out and trace a line from the tip of his longest finger to the soft skin of his wrist, where his pulse thrums through it. You pretend not to notice the way that he shudders.

“Soft,” you mumble. You’d expected his hands to be tougher, scarred and callused like yours. Especially since he fights with his fists. But you were right about one thing. He is very, very warm.

“I.” His voice comes out choked and strangled. “—have a good skincare routine?”

You snort. The pad of your thumb circles his palm, just to make his breath hitch. You can feel his pulse quicken and that’s interesting, too, so you do it again before uncurling your hand and laying your palm flat against his.

Isa pulls in a shuddering breath. You can see him steeling himself, gathering his courage before he slots his fingers into the spaces between yours and then you’re—holding hands. You’re holding hands. It feels almost familiar. Has someone held your hand before? When you try to remember, the thought twists away.

“Um,” Isa says hoarsely. “So. D-Do you feel—um—loop-y?”

You think about it. “I think you’re being too careful.”

His eyes widen.

“I think it won’t work if you don’t surprise me,” you explain. “Like. Catch me off guard.”

“O-Oh,” he whispers. “Really?”

You nod.

You’re aware that you’re pushing him. Pushing his boundaries; shoving through his comfort zone and out the other side. But that’s because you don’t want to be here.

There’s a reason you stopped coming here. Started asking your questions and ending the loop, instead of beating the King at all. You’re tired of this. Tired of hearing the same fumbling aborted confession. Tired of watching Isa decide that maybe he’d rather not know you, after all. That he’d rather be safe than be yours.

You want to push him. You want to scare him, a little. Make him suffer, make him squirm. It’s only fair, isn’t it? He’s been toying with you for a hundred loops.

(...You’re disgusting.)

Isa scuffs his feet, shifts his weight. “Um. Um… Do you… have any ideas?”

You raise an eyebrow. “If I tell you, it’s not really a surprise, Isa.”

“Haha, yeah!!!!!! I guess you’re right!!!” He looks down at your joined hands and swallows. “And. And you’re sure we can’t just—“

You glare at him and he actually squeaks. It’s cute. No it isn’t, it’s cruel. You’re playing with him, like a kid pulling the wings off a butterfly. Sadistic.

“Okay, okay, okay. No Housemaiden. S-So it just has to be… something you’d never expect…” He falters. “…Promise you won’t get mad?”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. It probably depends on what he does.

“Y-Yeah, of course. Of course. And you really won’t—um—I mean—because I could do all the talking…“

“She does all the talking.”

“Okay!!” he squeaks. “S-Sorry!! Then I’ll just—um. L-Let me just try…”

Tentative, slow, he wraps his fingers around your wrist. You have maybe half a second to process what’s happening before he raises your hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to your palm, right where it meets your wrist. Sparks under your skin. Lightning on your tongue. You’ve never been more aware of your own nerve endings.

You blink up at him, heat-dazzled, only to find his face burning. Eyes glossy with shame, and—something else. His gaze is locked on the place where he ends and you start but when he senses you staring he catches your eye and it’s— Oh, Stars. Oh, Change or Expressions or Gems, it’s— He’s so desperate. He’s so ashamed. He wants you so much.

(—Not you. Not you. He doesn’t want you, he wants the role you were playing. But it’s hard to remember when he’s so beautiful, and so close. And so hungry. You can see it in the ember of his eyes, burning for you. But he can’t, he shouldn’t, it’s wrong; you’re disgusting and wrong and you know but he’s—he’s looking at you like he can actually see you. Like he could see you and still want you.)

There’s a shift in his stance. Isa, tilting closer, squeezing his eyes shut. He draws your wrist toward his mouth and you realize with terror that he’s going to do it again—except that he can’t, because if he does it again, you can’t be sure what kind of sound you’ll make and the pressure building in your throat feels dangerously like a whimper, and—and if you whimper, then he’ll know; he’ll know that you—he’ll know that you—

[ f e e l   a   t u g   a t   y o ur   s t o m a c h ]

And you wake up in a field.

If you wanna get updates as soon as I post em, feel free to follow the series on ao3!

[mythica0]

Something nicer

🎂:The Loud House

🍫: Luanne

🧁:Siblings(implied/mentioned)

Summary: it’s April fools day again! Luanne’s favorite holiday! But after a talk with a friend a bit ago; she decides to go a different route this year.

A/N: the friend I’m mentioning is my OC Mary who is Luanne’s BFF.i know it’s nowhere near April fools day but I wanted to make this anyway. Also I added prank stuff that doesn’t exist because I can <3. hope you enjoy!

Something Nicer

‘April Fools is tommorow! I’m so excited!’ Luanne thought, bouncing on her heels. She’s been preparing for months!- she can’t wait to see the look on her family’s faces when they get pranked so hard!!

She was just about to go pick where she was going to place each prank- but then, she remembered a conversation with her friend Mary from a few weeks ago.

———

“So, April fools day is coming up.” She said, cautiously at the lunch table one day at school.

“I know! I already have all the supplies ready! I’m so excited I could practically burst!!”

“I know, and I’m so happy for you! I know you love pranks and April fools day and I love that for you… but-“

She sighed and resigned herself. Luanne looked wide-eyed at her friend, tilting her head slightly in confusion.

“I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while now- don’t you think your pranks are a bit… mean?”

“I mean- of course they’re a little mean! Wouldn’t be much of a prank if you didn’t cause a little chaos!”

“That’s not what I mean- it’s just- a lot of your pranks are physically harmful, or, or cause property damage- that’s not very funny- it’s just mean. Pranks are supposed to be confusing and maybe a bit irritating, not painful or distressing.”

“Hmm. I’ve never thought about that. I love my family! I don’t want to hurt them… but… that’s the only way I know how to prank! I don’t want to give up my favorite holiday….” Luanne seemed disheartened, and looked down at the table.

“Well, some of your pranks are okay! How about you give me some prank examples you’ve pulled and I’ll tell you if they’re okay or if they’re too much.”

“Alright! Um- the time I wrapped my entire house with wrapping paper!”

“That’s okay! No one was hurt, and while it might’ve been annoying to clean up, nothing was damaged.”

“Hmm.. the time I poured bleach on Lucy’s clothes to turn them white!”

“Did you buy her a replacement? If so, that’s okay. If not- just do that in the future.”

“Okay! The time I put oil on the floor so someone would slip into the oven and left raccoons in there!”

“Nope. Too far. Whoever fell victim to that was probably covered in scratches and very sore from crashing into an oven. The idea of a slippery floor isn’t a bad one though!”

“Oo! That one time I cut holes in the floor boards so someone would fall through into jello!”

“Did you pay for the damage to the floors? Did you make sure the wood wouldn’t cut anyone?”

“No one was hurt! And the place was abandoned- no one lived or went there.

“Then that’s alright!” That conversation went on for a bit, and eventually Luanne asked Mary what she should do about this year. She already had her supplies and half of them might hurt people!

Mary made it clear that she’s not really an expert on pranks, but that it might be a good idea to lean into something else that she enjoyed that doesn’t cause pain. Luanne said she’d think about it and then moved on.

———

“I should probably do that… I can’t believe I’ve been being a bully to my family for so long!” She whispered to herself. She decided to look through her prank supplies and see if she could scrounge up anything that wasn’t painful or harsh.

Lucky for her, she had forgotten that the day of that conversation she had ran to the store to get some more… friendly pranks.

With new , nicer supplies in hand, she went home to start set up.

————

“Alright guys. We’re pretty much outta options. Nothing we’ve tried is working!” Lincoln spoke at a sibling meeting later that afternoon.

“We still have the option of sedating her.” Lisa piped from the other side of the room, holding an ominous looking needle in her hands.

“No, Lisa- we tried that remember? She just set up early! It’s like she always knows our plan!”

“Drats.”

“It’s not the best plan- but I think I have an idea.” Lana raised her hand.

“Maybe if we pretend it doesn’t bother us, she’ll stop? Yes it means we’ll have to endure this year and maybe next year too, but maybe she’ll get bored!”

“Good idea Lana! Alright guys, looks like that’s our best plan. We’re just going to have to endure.” A collective sigh went up in the room, but no direct protests.

———

Luanne woke up and stretched, getting down off her bed quietly. ‘This is going to be great! I can’t wait to see what everyone thinks!! Maybe they won’t be mad at me!’

She giggled a little and went to her secret hideout where she had monitors to watch the chaos, carful to avoid springing her own pranks.

This was going to be fun.

Later that day, when everyone woke up they steeled themselves. They had to act like nothing was bothering them, even though they were dreading every second of today.

The first prank of the day happened when Lisa stepped out of her room only to be met with a bucket full of cool water.

‘And it begins. You are not bothered, you are not bothered.’

“Ahh. A classic. I wonder what metal this bucket is made out of?”

Luanne lifted an eyebrow in her hideout. “No reaction? That’s odd… but hey, maybe they’ll still like my big twist!”

The next victim was Lori, who woke up to find her favorite formal dress painted and decorated with the text “APRIL FOOLS!” In macaroni attached to it. She wanted to yell, but breathed in and instead commented on the Clever decoration before moving the shirt to the side and continuing.

All of the family gathered in the living room: this wasn’t their first rodeo, they knew Luanne had a big dramatic something that was going to happen in three… two… one-

“Hello family!” Right on cue, Luanne’s monitor dropped from the ceiling, showing her smiling face In her classic jester chair.

“I have some lovely surprises waiting for you today! This year is a little different than my other April fools day plans.. but I would hate to spoil the surprise!”

Everyone was so shocked that they forgot they were supposed to be acting like they didn’t care. She said different. Usually she says more intense or something like that. But never different. They looked to eachother with concern.

“Have fun! I know I will! Muahhahaha!” Luanne’s monitor slipped back into the ceiling.

“What? Just cause I’m not being too intense anymore doesn’t mean I can’t still lean into the “pranking evil genius” role! Geez.” Luanne spoke to mister coconuts.

The family was nervous now. How were they supposed to act nonchalant when Luanne just dropped that bombshell on them! But, they went about their day anyway.

The next prank brought upon the knowledge of the twist. Lola stepped into the kitchen, only to trigger a trip wire that pulled her into the air, stuck in place. She pepared for a punch to the gut or a mouse trap or something- but instead was met with giggles. Her own giggles.

“ whaahahat thehehe?” She looked up to see feathers swirling along her sides and underarms. “Eehee! Thahahat tihihihickles!”

The monitor dropped down again.

“Thats the point! I see you’ve found the twist!”

The family gasped. “So that’s what you meant by different? Tickling?”

“Yup! I thought about it- and this way- no one gets hurt!”

“Eheehahaha! Wehehell ihihis thihihis thihihing gohohona lehehet mehehe dohohown!”

“Yup! It will after about 5 minutes. Enjoy!” Luanne giggled and winked at her.

The next victim was Lincoln.

After the twist was discovered , the family forgot all about their plan and turned the day into a game. Lincoln ran outside, only to slip on one thing into some pillows on a tree, which then caused a strange glitter-like substance to fall on him.

The next thing he knew, his whole torso was bursting with ticklish shockwaves, causing him to burst into laughter and clutch his stomach. This action caused the glitter to get on his hands and arms- starting to tickle them,too.

“Poor, ticklish Lincoln. I see you found my giggle glitter! Isn’t it wonderful?” Another screen popped down from the tree.

Lincoln was belly laughing and kicking his feet in ticklish glee. “Hahahahaaa thahahat tihihihickles sohohoho muhuhuch ahahaha!!”

“Good! Cause there’s more where that came from! Muahaha!”

Meanwhile, Lucy went into her room and hid in her coffin. ‘I’ll be safe in here.’ She thought, only to be startled by a bunch of soft, pillow-like robotic hands reaching towards her. ‘Oooor not..’ then the hands made contact, squeezing and poking Lucy gently. “Pfftahaha! Dahahang ihihit luahahahanne!”

“Oh! I’m so glad you found my little poking pillow hands! Do you like them?”

“Wahahahahat? Nohohoho wahahahay!”

“Don’t lie to me~ you totally do.”

“S-shuhuhut uhuhup!” Lucy flushed, which was very noticeable on her pale face that she then covered up.

This went on and on(with some normal pranks in there too- Leni got a pie in the face)

Lisa got trapped in a machine that trapped her in laughter for 10 minutes.

Lynn’s shoes had automatic feathers in them

Lana fell in peanut butter which caused Charles to lick it off her

Luna found another giggle glitter prank.

Lori ran into some robot bugs(where did Luanne get all these robots?)

Lenny’s belt started to vibrate on her belly

So on, so forth

At dinner, Luanne left her hideout, making her way to the house. When she opened the door, her family all greeted her at her table- but instead of glaring or mumbling about revenge.. they were smiling. ‘Perfect.’ Thought Luanne. ‘This might just be my best April fools day ever.’

“Hey, there’s our little prankster! Care for some tacos?” Their dad spoke, finishing setting the table.

Luanne smiled brightly. “Absolutely!”

They are together and laughed and talked like any other day of the year, and after dinner was over Luanne pulled something out of her pocket and walked up to Lori.

“Hey Lori, I wanted to give you this.” In her hands was a folded dress, exactly alike to the one that Luanne had *ahem*.. decorated.

“You- you got me another one?” Lori seemed surprised.

Luanne hesitated and looked down. “Yeah.. to replace the one I ruined.”

“Y’know Luanne? I don’t know why you switched it up this year, but I’m glad you did. This years April fools has actually been…. Fun. The most fun April fools I’ve ever had. Thank you.” Luanne teared up a bit and the two embraced each other, followed by the rest of the family shortly after.

“I could tell you why I changed it up!” She reached towards the table for a leftover tortilla shell. “I think I’m ready to taco bout it! Hahaha!”

Luanne smiled and felt so warm and happy.

‘I’m glad too, Lori. I’m so happy I did something nicer’

———THE END————————————————