#somehow the finale is both good and bad at the same time. baffling everyone

[destinysbounty]

Skybound is kind of a hit-or-miss season overall, but I do have to give it props for absolutely ripping into Jay's characterization like this. Like. They actually went there.

A lot of times it's a popular headcanon/fanon for the comic relief to be using their humor to hide their pain, but apparently in Ninjago it's just straight up canon. So do with that information what you will

[lxngbottom]

Cramps. | N.L. (+ D.T & S.F.)

in which the reader is having a really bad period, so her three best friends come and check up on her.

warnings: pain, periods, bleeding, swearing, we know how it is.

i’m on my period rn, & these three boys are my fav characters so this is mostly to comfort me (and idk if you guys can even relate, but my periods get THIS bad) (edit: this was NOT supposed to be this long but oh well i love these three)

gryffindor reader! (but anyone can read obv)

—

somehow, you had managed to make it through the previous school day. but, the whole time your stomach felt like it was completely turning on you, and with every step you took, the bleeding was so heavy. you couldn’t even remember the last time you went through so many pads and tampons in one day.

on top of that, you were an absolute emotional wreck. and, that became apparent to neville when seamus laughed over tripping over your shoe lace, and you looked up at your three best friends with tears in your eyes.

“merlin, y/n! i was only messing with you! what’s wrong?” seamus furrowed his eyebrows at you, only for you to bend down and groan in pain as you attempted to tie your loose shoe laces.

“i can’t do it!” you whined, a tear finally escaping your tired eyes. you stood up, and sniffled, not noticing the genuine concerned looks plastered across the three boys’s faces.

and then, if things couldn’t get any worse, you felt someone tap your shoulder. you turned around to meet a terrified looking ron and harry, staring down at your legs,

“y-y-y/n... blood! t-t-there’s blood running down your legs!”

you looked down, and sure enough, there was a bunch of it. you automatically began to cry, and the sobbing only got worse as you realized that this was happening in front of not one, not two, but five boys.

“nev—neville... p-please give me your jacket...” you choked out, rushing as the blood seeped between your thighs. he did so quickly, tossing it to you, and your tied it around your waist before running into the nearest bathroom.

“why would you point that out?” dean asked ron, eyeing him,

“what?! would it be better for her to stay like that the rest of the day?” the ginger snapped back, still not putting two and two together. ron wasn’t exactly wrong, but his execution was awful.

the boys sighed, deciding that maybe waiting outside the bathroom would do you some good. but, unfortunately, as 15 minutes passed, you never came out.

“m-m-maybe someone should go and get hermione. or lavendar. or one of the parvati twins?” neville suggested, scratching the back of his neck. seamus shrugged, honestly clueless on how to handle the whole situation.

luckily, a saving grace skipped by, grabbing the attention of all of the boys,

“ginny!” ron called out, and she stopped in her tracks, “thank merlin you’re here!”

the look on her face was questionable as harry, ron, neville, dean, and seamus all stared at her.

“w-what?”

dean spoke up first, more than concerned, “y/n went in there. she—she had—blood running down her legs. and, she started crying...”

that’s all it took for ginny to nod her head, “okay. you guys go ahead. i’ll take care of her!”

they did so reluctantly, more so your three best friends. as ron and harry wanted to be away from the whole scenario as soon as possible.

and, that was the last they heard from you yesterday. today, they waited for you to come down from the girl’s dorm, but you never came.

they waited for you in the great hall, but again, you never came.

little did they know, you were curled up in a ball on your bed, sobbing from the excruciating pain that filled your whole body. this cycle was hitting you like a truck, and you’d wished that somehow you had been more prepared for it.

hermione had left you reluctantly that morning, never seeing a fellow girl having such a bad period before. you had cried all night, and you and her both had barely gotten any sleep. so that’s why when neville saw hermione drifting off to sleep during a shared class, he was absolutely baffled.

as that same class ended, the three boys caught up with hermione,

“hey, granger! where’s y/n?” seamus asked, and she rubbed her eyes.

“she—um—“ a yawn interrupted her response, “she’s in our dorm. she doesn’t feel well.”

neville’s mouth went agape, and he finally put two and two together.

“i wouldn’t go and see her, though. you guys embarrassed her yesterday. she told me all about ronald, and ginny, and seamus. she’s really upset, and... she’s just in a lot of pain. so, just let her be for a while.”

and with that, she left the three boys. they gave each other weird looks, mentally questioning each other.

you on the other hand at this time, were crying as you changed out your bed sheets for the second time that day. it wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable experience to have to explain to a house elf why you needed a bunch of new clean sheets.

dinner soon came, and even then, the boys expected to see you sitting with them, eating and laughing. but, you still hadn’t left that dorm.

so, neville packed some extra food, and the three made a journey to gryffindor tower, just to see if they could break the rules to make sure you weren’t dying. (of course, all three of them were convinced that you were on your death bed.)

they slipped past the prefect, climbing up the stairs to your dorm.

dean was just about to knock when they all heard your voice,

“stop, hermione! please! i don’t care that i missed my classes! i’ve been puking all day, bled on my bed, almost shit my pants four times, so, i really don’t care about snape and what he said about me! piss off!”

seamus’s lips curled, and the sound he let out could only be described as pure disgust. but, neville nudged him,

“she can’t help it. don’t be like that...” he whispered, still not sure if you were alright with visitors at the moment.

“well, i’m sorry! but, dean, neville, and seamus are all worried about you! they—“

that’s when they heard a blood curdling scream, and it sounded exactly like you. it made them jump,

“I WANT TO KILL MYSELF! FUCK!”

“don’t say that! it’s only for a few days, y/n! i told you i would help you with anything you needed!”

“then you can start by fucking off! go away!”

the boys looked at each other,

“maybe—“

“yeah—“

“later.”

they all mutually agreed, and ran down the stairs before hermione had the chance to see them.

they settled in the common room, deciding to do their homework until they knew it was a safe call to go and see you. they all worried about you tremendously, as they had never heard you talk to a fellow friend like that. you simple weren’t that type of person in their eyes. you had always been patient with people, so it was a wonder to them how you loved them so much.

they spotted ginny, walking up to the girl’s dormitories with a glass of ice cream in hand. they naturally assumed it was for you. and truth be told, when ginny entered with a sweet smile on her face, holding the cold treat, you realized you had never been more happy to see a weasley before.

as pathetic as it sounded, you cried to ginny while eating the chocolate ice cream. you sobbed to her about all the events of that day, and the day before. your crush on neville and how you believed he didn’t feel the same, the way that seamus chewed too loudly, and how hermione was too uptight sometimes. she simply listened, knowing that’s all she could really do.

finally, the three boys saw ginny coming down the the glass now empty, and they ran up to her,

“is she okay?”

“what’s happening?”

“can we go and see her?”

she chuckled and shook her head them, “she’s fine, you guys. calm down. i’m not so sure if she’ll want to see you guys, but you guys can sure try.”

they all three looked at each other, slightly terrified.

but, they sucked it up and made their way up again. of course, seamus couldn’t hold back from making a snide comment,

“i swear, if i get a book thrown at my head and end up in the hospital wing with a concussion, i’m blanking it on neville.”

“why me?!” neville scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air,

“because! you fancy her and are the most worried about her! she’s just on her period! is it really that big of a deal?”

before neville could answer, dean cut in, “yes, seamus. it is a big deal. maybe not to us, but to her it is. try bleeding out of your dick for a week while your inside are ripping apart!”

if you would’ve been present, you definitely wouldn’t hugged dean for that one.

they finally arrived, and they argued for a moment over who would be the once to knock on the door. it felt like they were stepping into a death trap. finally, neville agreed to do it.

he did so gently,

“what?” you asked, “who is it?”

dean and seamus eyed each other, definitely panicking.

“erm—it’s... us...”

you groaned, and looked down at your state. you were only in your bra and underwear, trash bucket in your lap, nausea getting the best of you... again.

but, you figured seeing your three best friends would bring you some comfort. this wasn’t their fault, and you didn’t want to take it out on them anymore.

“um... you can come in, but warning! i’m—“

before you could warn them, the door flew open,

“naked...” you breathed out, looking down at the trash can.

they all went wide eyed, and neville covered dean and seamus’s eyes with his hands, and closed his own.

“close the door, you gits!”

neville did so with his foot, still covering everyone’s eyes. you let out a small chuckle at the fact, and shook your head.

“you guys can look, you know. you act like we haven’t been best friends since first year.”

“b-b-but you’re—naked!” dean responded, through neville still keeping his own hand over the boy’s face.

you pursed your lips as you felt vomit climbing it’s way up your throat, “who—“

that’s when they heard it. the violent sound of puking. neville thanked merlin that his eyes were closed, because he probably would’ve puked too.

“who cares?” you breathed out, wiping the slobber from your chin. that’s when seamus took neville’s hand away from his eyes, and realized how you looked.

you looked unrecognizable almost. you looked exhausted, pale, and like you had just been hit by twenty cars at one time. your eyes were all puffy and red from crying, and your hair was definitely not put together like it usually was. makeup was smeared all down your face, makeup from the day before that you simply didn’t have the motivation to get up and wash off. but, seamus couldn’t help but notice your bra and underwear.

“you—“ he chuckled, “you have teddy bears on your undergarments, y/n?”

you clenched your jaw, and tightened your grasp around the trash can, narrowing your eyes at him. his eyes widened,

“kidding! i was only kidding! they suit you well!”

finally, dean shoved neville’s hand off as well, and neville opened his eyes back up reluctantly. neville and dean took in your state, much less of a laughing matter to them, as they were more of the calm friends.

“merlin, y/n... are you alright?” neville asked, approaching you slowly. you shook your head,

“i’m dying...”

the three boys gasped, and you looked at them funny, “i’m kidding... but i feel like i might...”

that settled their nerves a bit, the theory of you dying slowly fading away. you spit in the trash can, and set it back down on the floor. of course, seamus being the curious cat he is, looked in the trash can.

“don’t look at my vomit, finnigan! don’t you have any manners?”

he jumped back, and nodded his head.

“what are you guys doing here, anyway?” you asked, laying down fully on the bed, stomach and legs exposed.

“well—we know—you—you sorta—“

neville sighed at dean’s awkwardness about the whole situation, “we know you’re on your period. and, we know that you’re in a lot of pain. and, we just wanted to come and check up on you.” he glanced at the other two boys, “right?”

“yeah, definitely!”

“totally!”

you giggled at seamus and dean, “oh, what gentlemen. how could i ever thank you?”

seamus couldn’t hold it in. the comment just slipped from his lips,

“well, seeing you in your bra and underwear is thanks enough in my book!” he joked, nudging dean.

surprisingly, the only one who laughed beside seamus... was you. this surprised the boys, as you were sure that would earn seamus that book to his temple, or at least a smack to the face. but, it didn’t.

“see? i told you guys she’s fine! she’s laughing like she always does!”

neville seemed to look over at you for reassurance, just to make sure that seamus hadn’t crossed a boundary with one of his crude jokes. it was something that seamus had done quite a few times, without even realizing it, but it was simply because he didn’t know how to put a filter on. you knew at the end of the day that seamus wasn’t trying to disrespect you. plus, it was something you had go get used to, being one of his best friends and all.

at one point, the boys had eased into the floor, getting things for you if you needed it. seamus even asked why exactly girls even got periods, and you explained it to him in full detail.

“so... like—the inside of your uterus is actually tearing? i thought dean was joking about that!”

you shook your head, “unfortunately, it’s not a joke, finnigan. it’s very real...”

“well, is it this bad for all girls?”

“no, actually. some girls only bleed for a couple of days, and it’s very light. they can go without cramps, puking... lucky bitches!”

that’s when the boys fell silent, even seamus himself. until he raised an eyebrow,

“is it bad that i’m kinda curious? you know—to see how it feels to... bleed... down—there...”

dean furrowed his eyebrows, but neville nodded his head in agreement.

“well, boys... i can’t make you bleed out your dick for seven days straight... but, i can punch you guys in the stomach with full force and show you how cramps feel!”

collectively, they all disagreed, which caused you to fall into a fit of laughter.

“but—it can’t be that bad, right? i mean, everyone can get a stomach ache...” dean questioned, but unsure of what he had just said.

“let me put it to you like this, thomas. imagine the weasley twins sneaking a muggle laxative into your morning pumpkin juice...” you started, “but that stomach pain for a whole week.”

dean put his head down, finally understanding. no wonder you had talked about almost shitting your pants.

that’s when the door swung open, revealing a surprised hermione,

“y/n! where are your clothes?! boys are in here! and plus, they’re not even supposed to be in here, anyway!” she snapped, immediately storming over to your closet, and pulling out a random shirt, throwing it at you.

“but, it’s too hot! and, any tightness hurts!”

“i don’t care! i couldn’t imagine sitting around with ronald and harry with my—lady parts hanging out!”

you chuckled at her hidden shaming, quite used to it by now. “oh, whatever, granger! it’s the same difference as a bathing suit! lighten up!”

seamus and dean snickered at the look on her face, and the way she stormed out.

“she’s right, y/n. not about—you know, we don’t care... but, just—seamus will be talking about it for the rest of his natural life if you keep your clothes off any longer.” neville stated, standing up and taking his sweater off. he passed it to you, making sure not to touch you in anyway that would make you uncomfortable.

you smiled at the kind gesture. sure, it was a sweater, and you probably should choose the lighter t-shirt that hermione had snagged out for you. but, it was neville’s sweater, so, how could you refuse?

you slipped it on over your head, and pulled your hair through the hole. it was quite comfortable, and you were just the right amount of warm and cool. so, it worked out in the end. “thank you, longbottom. that was sweet.”

his face turned red at the small grin etched upon your face, but he shook it off and sat back down on the floor.

you all began talking again, not even noticing when seamus had gotten bored and ancy, and started snooping in your drawers. but, his eyes went wide at the sight of something in your drawer. he picked it up, and stared at it for a moment.

“uh... y/n...” he started, voice a bit shaky, “what’s this?”

he held it up, and you, dean, and neville all looked over.

“that’s a tampon, finnigan. i use it when i’m on my period so the blood doesn’t leak out.”

he took a beat of silence as he connected the dots, and his eyes seemed to widen even more,

“and... you have to put this where exactly?”

[strawbearisamu]

for a day like this

timeskip! hanamaki takahiro x gn! reader

summary: a coincidence on a train ride home leads to a confession and kissing in the rain.

note: requested by anon :) here, semi long one guys

cw: light swearing, semi makeout scene

wc: 1.8k 

the sky shrouded by a dense fog, the blue of it completely concealed by a covering of wooly grey clouds. rain continuing to pour from the desolute atmosphere as you heard a disembodied female voice announce the departure of the train. you sighed, train starting to move as you look out your window only to see a strike of lightning, the muffled thundering of the storm only growing louder, reminding you of the impending consequences of today's events.

"miss..miss...excuse me miss?" shaken from your daze, you meet the face of a middle aged woman carrying an infant and a young child, "miss, would you mind switching seats with me? there just isn't enough space for my baby's breastfeeding equipment on the other side." she asked apologetically, "even though i specifically requested it," mumbling the last part under her breath.

you press your lips in to a small smile, grabbing your things as she thanked you in relief, your eyes light up at a familiar shade of strawberry brown, occupying the very seat next to the one you were supposed to replace, "makki?" you couldn’t help the grin as called out from behind.

he whipped his head towards you, eyes widened, mouth slightly agape as he eyed you a few times. as if making sure you weren't a fake, making sure the familiar resonance and tenor of your voice, the one he replays to himself some nights, making sure it wasn't just an auditory hallucination. "y/n."

eyes lighting up with excitement, you speed up towards him, engulfing his sitting form in a warm hug, arms wrapped around his neck as he breaths in your scent.

"missed me huh?" you don't miss the playful glint in his eyes as you finally let him go. "yeah," a beaming grin displacing the forlorn look on your face.

"what were you doing in the city?" you asked, squeezing past him into the window seat as he towered over to the side of the walkway to make room, you see his eyes glaze over for a split second before he says "just a reunion with the boys."

"how are they! you guys were always quite the gang."

"yeah," he paused, slight hesitation lingering in his voice, "they're good i mean, really good."

the thunder crackling, a shot of lightning briefly lighting the gloomy sky as the scenery beyond your cabin window blurred with the speeding train.

"you look awful," he says, words slipping out absentmindedly, his eyes widening in absolute horror as he spluttered an apology, rambling on, "not as in you're ugly but your clothes, your stuff, it just looks a little...disheveled."

you burst into laughter, the first time today, "my bag was stolen today, some guy on a motorbike snatched it and knocked me over, it was crazy! i tried chasing him too!" you recounted the story again, but for the first time today, in humour.

"pfft, sorry not the point, you tried chasing him?" his mouth curving into his signature lazy grin.

"what's your point strawberry head?" narrowing your eyes at him as he raised his hands, pleading innocence. "you okay though?"

"i'll survive, can't say the same for my job, had some really important work documents there, weren't supposed make copies, now they're gone."

"oh..."

"yeah, i'm so pissed but well the jury will be out after the weekend," you sighed, "but anyway should we be talking about how you look just as bad as me, makki?"

a boyish laugh resonates from him, it does something to you, the familiar scratchiness of it inscribed in your mind from long ago. the corner of his eyes crinkled, "shit i guess i do," he said. "mhmm," you hummed, nodded along in laughter.

"the reunion," he cleared his throat, "i mean first off, this is not even close to being as bad as your day," he precautioned.

"just get on with it," you rolled your eyes.

twisting and fiddling the ring on his pinky, "just saw everyone doing really well, what with oikawa and iwaizumi being on olympic teams, even mattsun has a steady career and plan you know? i think i'm second guessing myself? i thought i was living life, having fun, but sometimes everything feels like filler before death.”

you nodded along to him, listening intently. you had always known makki to be more of a free spirit so this was rare.

"we all have those days," you mumble under your breath.

you let a comfortable silence fall between you, rummaging your bag for the slightly squished convenience store sandwich and your earphones.

"it’s tough huh, trying to find our place now.” you said, handing him one side of your earphones.

“yeah, so much easier when you’re two dumbasses goofing around, playing with erasers and tic tac toe during class," he slotted in the bud, and you do the same, as the ambient music filled your ears.

“you and mattsun?" you probed.

“no you, you and me.” for second his playful facade falters. his eyes lingering on yours as you held each other captive, your stare burning through his enigmatic grey eyes, a raw emotional intensity that made it seem like time had slowed down, neither of you finding the courage to make a move in the moment of impenetrable tension.

"i guess the rain is quite fitting for a day like this." you finally dared to look away, taking in the storm weathering just beyond your window, "but somehow i feel a little better now makki. maybe it's your pink hair."

"you do love it," he said, "i feel a little better too," he whispered, and you barely catch it.

—

he took a deep breath in, releasing it in a heavy sigh. “miyagi air right? nothing like it.”

“can’t tell if you’re a free spirit or an old man now.” you stepped off the platform, bags in hand.

"let me walk you tonight. you don’t have an umbrella.”

“neither do you?” you pointed out, handing him one of your bags as the both of you walked towards the exit.

"don't worry, i've got a plan," he winked a cheeky smile playing on his lips.

—

the wind howls, your hair violently blowing into his face, "this was your genius plan makki? run a little faster will you!" you shout over the blaring pour of the rain, incredulous.

"easy for you to say, you're not the one hauling your heavy ass bag." one of your bags slung around his shoulder, arms stretched around the both of you as he holds his jacket up for cover. well, your cover, his exposed side completely drenched.

"we're close," you called out, awkwardly trudging across the puddle ridden road, his warmth emanating from beside you as your heart raced in your chest, though you couldn't decide if that was the rain or makki, more probably both you finally decided.

"we actually made it in one piece." you breathe a sigh of relief as you finally made it under the roof of your home, catching your breath a little as he twisted his rain soaked jacket.

"what are you waiting for? aren't you gonna open it?" he asked.

"okay what?"

"open the door?"

"i don't have the keys, they got stolen remember?" you said dubiously, now working the water out of your clothes as he gave you a baffled look.

"what? how are we gonna get in?

"well i assumed you had the keys?"

"how in the world would in have your keys?"

"in that confe-, letter i gave you? said you were here all the time you might as well have the key and gave you a key?"

"letter? what letter, y/n?"

"wait the letter...you didn't receive it?" the colour in your face drained, you took a sudden notice to his drenched figure.

"you're soaked dumbass." you say in an attempt to quickly move on, unzipping your bag to pull out a fresh t-shirt. he tries to stop you but you don't let him.

"shut up just let me do this makki." you pull on his forearm, tugging him down to meet your eye-level, his face inches from yours as you gently pat his face and neck dry.

"is this just an excuse to kiss me?" the same lazy smirk playing on his face again but his expression morphs into an unreadable one, eyes clouding, "the letter," he whispered looking down at you, his bangs skirting his lashes as you dabbed his cheek with a t-shirt.

"you wish you could kiss me," you joke.

"i do wish," he doesn't.

"was it a confession?" you didn't answer him, "can i kiss you makki?" the burning desire held off long enough as you somehow found the courage to ask.

makki broke into a smile, clumsily taking your hands in his, hurriedly dragging you back into the rain shower. hard rain hitting you, massaging your head, but even as you felt your senses become overwhelmed your attention was still singly engrossed by the man in front of you.

"what are you doing? i just patted you dry!" you reprimanded him, shouting over the pour of the rain, looking up at him, now 6'1, his soft gaze easily slipping past your faux stern one.

"it's more dramatic this way," he whispered, his hand gently caressing your face, thumb running circles on the now flushed apples of your cheek, his eyes becoming clearer to you as you finally begun to understand the liquid grey eyes that held you captive for so long. your heart speeding up again, butterflies fluttering aggressively in your stomach.

you tiptoed a little, eagerly reaching a hand into his now drenched strawberry pink hair that you were always so fixated on. he responded in kind, securing an arm around your waist, hoisting you up, you body colliding into his warmth, lower lip tingling a little as he traced it with his slightly calloused thumb. finally, he cups your jaw, taking your lips in his.

his lips warm, soft, impossibly plush against your own, the soft tickle of your hair on his cheek, your honeyed taste playing on his tongue, the shared warmth between you melding into one, your heartbeat synchronous, in perfect parallel with your harmonised movement. lips slightly parted, he bit your lower lip as you moaned a little.

"you think the neighbours can see us?" you pulled away, holding his cheeks in your hands, still in a slight daze.

"don't know, don't care."

"when did it become a drizzle?" you asked as he shrugged in response, desperate to capture your lips in his again.

and you guys stood there, in the light drizzle of the rain, soft rays of sunlight finally peaking through the glum clouds, making out for the audience of your entire neighbourhood, enjoying the petrichor of the rain. because yeah you were still locked out of your house, yeah you were probably getting fired and yeah he still didn't know shit about what he was gonna do, but everything seemed just a little bit better.

"i guess the rain was quite fitting for a day like this.”

sol's comments: can you tell i have no idea how to write a makeout scene? :")

m.list | each and every reblop is appreciated ☻ (+ free hugs)

[jayeray-hq]

Br(Atsumu)

Hey everyone! This is the piece for @maizumis sfw brat collab! It's 100% sfw and if you enjoy it make sure to check out the Masterlist!

If you like this and want to see more of my writing for Atsumu check out my Character Masterlist!

Post Time Skip/Manga Ending Spoilers!

Warnings: None all Fluff

You watched amused as Atsumu slumped over the counter of his brother’s restaurant, arms pressed to his sides dejectedly and cheek smooshed against the hard surface. You couldn’t see his face from the angle you were at, but there was no doubt in your mind he had a pout on his face.

Osamu was standing behind the counter, clearly purposefully ignoring his brother’s sulking as he shaped onigiri in his hands, a thoroughly exasperated look on his face. His head lifted when he heard the bell overhead ring as you entered the shop, but a quick finger to your lips kept him from greeting you by name.

“Welcome to Onigiri Miya what can I get ya?” he chimed automatically, the usual bored drawl in his voice.

“How much for your twin?” you asked, your voice making Atsumu jerk a little in recognition, though he didn’t bother lifting his head, choosing instead to heave a sigh and pointedly ignore you, letting you know exactly what kind of mood your boyfriend was in.

“You can have that for free,” Osamu told you, face scrunched up in disgust, “In fact if yer haulin’ trash outta my restaurant I almost feel like I should be payin’ you instead.”

“Who you callin’ trash, ya scrub,” Atsumu sneered at his brother, finally raising his head to glare at his brother.

“Who else but you, ya trashy scrub!” Osamu retorted, not impressed in the slightest.

Luckily there was no one else in the restaurant at the moment to watch their antics, because while you found them entertaining you knew some found them more than a bit intimidating. Still you didn’t think either twin would be too happy if they actually started brawling in Osamu’s restaurant so you walked up behind your boyfriend, threading your fingers through his hair and gently tugging backwards until his head was resting against your chest.

He immediately quieted down a bit, though you could tell from the look on Osamu’s face that he was still glaring at his twin. Carefully you rested a hand on his shoulder and stroked your fingers through the soft golden waves, massaging his scalp in a way you knew he loved as you asked, “Rough day, Tsumu?”

He let out a huff, but didn’t bother to respond, clearly purposefully ignoring you, even if he didn’t actually pull away from your hands. You rolled your eyes at this childish behavior exchanging a look with Osamu.

“Don’t do that,” Atsumu hissed at the two of you.

“Do what?” Osamu demanded exasperated.

“Talk to each other like I ain’t sittin’ right here in front of ya,” your boyfriend retorted angrily.

“Ya really need to get yer ears cleaned out if ya thought we were talkin’ ya deaf scrub,” Osamu hissed, thoroughly fed up with your boyfriend who was clearly looking to pick a fight.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re ignoring me Tsumu?” you asked patiently, knowing that when he got in this kind of mood patience was the best way to deal with him. If you snapped back or got sarcastic it would only escalate the situation.

“It’s only fair,” he grumbled, still pointedly not looking at you, “Since you’ve been ignorin’ me all day.”

“Ignoring you?” you repeated completely and utterly baffled, “But weren’t you practicing with the rest of the Black Jackals today? And you know I was working too.”

“Ya didn’t let me kiss ya goodbye this mornin’ and ya ignored my texts all day,” Atsumu sulked, “I was startin’ to think ya weren’t even goin’ ta come fer our monthly dinner.”

“I was going to be late, and you were refusing to wake up,” you told your boyfriend reasonably, more amused than annoyed now that you knew what was bothering him, “But I still kissed you goodbye Tsumu and I even left a note for you.”

“Ya left a note?” he asked, voice perplexed though still sulky, “Where? I didn’t see it.”

“In the fridge on top of the bento I packed for you last night,” you told him puzzled that he hadn’t seen it, “Where I was sure you’d see it.”

“I forgot to bring my lunch,” he told you miserably, which definitely helped to explain his mood. Atsumu almost never ate if he didn’t bring his lunch with him insisting the food wasn’t good enough and didn’t match his diet plan. However, when he didn’t eat he tended to get hangry, which had no doubt contributed quite a bit to his foul mood.

“Sounds like a you problem,” Osamu jeered, clearly unimpressed. He of all people knew how nasty his brother could get when he didn’t eat. You gave him a look over his brother’s head again, trying to tell him not to rile him up again, and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Yer doin’ it again,” Atsumu whined, though he’d lost the slightly bitter edge from before.

“If you don’t like it, then maybe you should turn and look at me, so I can’t talk over your head anymore,” you pointed out mildly, feeling a bit like you were dealing with a sulking toddler, but willing to indulge him for now seeing as these kinds of moods were rare nowadays, something Ojirou had told you was clearly a long awaited sign of maturity from the former Inarizaki setter.

Your boyfriend huffed, but in the end swiveled his seat to look at you as you took the seat next to him. However you knew exactly what to do to coax him out of his bad mood. Gently you cupped his face in your palms and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, pulled back for a second, then pressed a longer lingering one to his willing mouth.

“There,” you assured him nuzzling your nose against his affectionately before pulling back, “The kiss goodbye I owed you from this morning, and a kiss to say I’m sorry.”

“Ya forgot to give me a kiss hello,” he pointed out, though you could see the corners of his lips pull upwards as you coaxed him out of his mood.

You grinned and leaned forward to press another kiss to his lips, enjoying the feel and the warmth of it as he cupped your face with one of his hands and held you close for a long moment both of you ignoring Osamu who was fake gagging in the background.

“But why didn’t ya text me?” Atsumu asked you when you parted again, his forehead resting on yours as he peered at you with anxious honey brown eyes, “I thought ya were mad at me.”

“My phone is dead,” you told him, with an affectionate huff, pulling it from your pocket and handing it over, “I must’ve forgotten to charge it last night.”

“Oh,” he told you, playing with the power button and refusing to meet your eyes clearly a little embarrassed at his overreaction, though he did quietly clarify, “So yer not mad?”

“I don’t think I have anything to be mad about,” you admitted, then teased, “Unless you’ve done something I should know about…?”

“No!” he protested immediately hands waving wildly in front of him as he declared his innocence looking entirely too alarmed, “I haven’t done anythin’ I swear!”

“I believe you,” you told him with an amused giggle, grabbing one of his flailing hands and interlacing your fingers together.

“Ya shouldn’t,” Osamu interjected with a huff, “If he hasn’t done somethin’ stupid recently I’ll eat my hat, and if he really hasn’t then he’s goin’ to be due fer it in the near future.”

“I’m not that bad,” Atsumu hissed at his twin, thoroughly offended.

“Ya are,” Osamu jeered, though it was more on the teasing end of things, “Otherwise ya wouldn’t have come in here and moped around, floppin’ all over my counter like an ugly fish and makin’ a nuisance of yerself because ya thought yer girl was mad at ya.”

“How can ya call me any sort of ugly when we have the same face!” Atsumu complained, exasperated. The argument was one you’d heard a thousand times now from both twins and somehow it never ceased to amuse you.

“It’s cuz I ain’t a whiney baby like you,” Osamu huffed.

“Princess, tell him I ain’t a whiney baby,” Atsumu whined, completely proving Osamu’s point and making you giggle helplessly as he pouted at you, informing you, “Yer my girlfriend, yer supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on your side,” you assured him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his pouting lips unable to help yourself, even as you told him, “But you are a bit of a brat Tsumu.”

“A what?” Atsumu asked, thrown by your use of English. He’d gotten better at speaking it a bit, picking up words here and there, though he did get thrown off sometimes when you threw out random words.

“A BrAtsumu?” Osamu repeated, his head cocked to the side in utter confusion.

You gaped at him for several seconds repeating the word over in your mind giggles beginning to spill from your mouth as both twins looked on with identical looks of confusion on their faces. The looks only made things worse and you began to howl with laughter, nearly falling out of your chair if not for Atsumu’s steadying hands.

“Brat – Tsumu, Bratsumu,” you managed to stutter out, wheezing as you tried to catch your breath, “It’s perfect, Osamu it’s perfect.”

“I don’t get it,” the onigiri chef informed you flatly, though you could see the corners of his lips curled upwards, amused at your amusement if nothing else.

“Brat means gaki,” you explained as you caught your breath, clutching Atsumu’s forearms for balance earning a snort of amusement from your boyfriend’s twin.

“Oy, oy, should ya really be callin’ yer boyfriend a brat,” Atsumu protested, though you could tell he wasn’t actually upset, just exasperated, “Especially when I just saved ya from either face plantin’ or crackin’ yer head open. What happens if I decide to drop ya huh?”

“Then I guess I’ll have to do this,” you told him lunging forward to wrap your arms around him instead to better brace yourself.

He caught you easily with a huff of amusement and cuddled you close pressing a tender kiss to your hair before he nuzzled his face into your neck with a warm chuckle as he asked, “So guess that means ya love me after all, even if ya are makin’ fun of me.”

“I always love you Tsumu,” you assured him affectionately, pulling back slightly so you could peer up into his eyes and hoping he could see how serious you were about this, “Even when you’re being a BrAtsumu.”

“Love ya too princess,” he told you fondly pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, “Gonna love ya fer ever, and m’sorry fer bein’ a pain today. Was just rough, cuz I thought ya were mad at me, an I woke up late, forgot my lunch, and didn’t do well in practice.”

“It’s okay Tsumu,” you assured him tenderly, “You weren’t that bad, though I’d appreciate if in the future you talked to me before getting angry.”

“I will,” he assured you nuzzling close.

You sighed in utter contentment, enjoying the feel of his arms, though you knew you probably shouldn’t stay too long. You were in public after all.

“Would the two of ya knock it off with the lovey dovey crap already, yer goin’ to scare away my customers,” sure enough, Osamu interrupted, though he looked more fond than annoyed, even if he was clearly giving it a go, “An where’s my apology huh? It was my counter ya were attemptin’ to merge with.”

“Thanks for putting up with us Osamu,” you told him sincerely, cutting in before your boyfriend could, meaning every word. The man really did put up with a lot at times and you really were grateful for it.

“Yeah well, the least I can do fer ya fer puttin’ up with my lump of a twin,” Osamu told you clearly a little embarrassed as he pulled off his cap and ruffled his hair, heaving a sigh, “Yer really good fer him ya know, too good if ya ask me, but thanks fer takin’ care of the scrub.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you told him honestly, “He may be a scrub, but he’s my scrub and I really do love him you know.”

“I know,” Osamu told you with a fond smile, “Of all people I’m glad it’s you that’s goin’ ta be my future sister-in-law.”

“Oy, what did I tell the two of ya about talkin’ like I ain’t here,” Atsumu protested, though there was a slightly wavering edge to his voice that told you he didn’t actually mind all that much, the pink flush on his cheeks letting you see how touched he was, even as he rushed to change the subject, “Besides we’re here fer food Samu so why aren’t ya feedin’ us?”

“Fine, fine,” Osamu told him, rolling his eyes and clearly deciding to concede just this once, “What do ya want ya big glutton.”

As the twins bickered a bit you couldn’t help but smile, enjoying the warmth of Atsumu’s arm around your waist and the way you could clearly see how both twins kept an eye on your comfort even as they argued, always sure to include you in the conversation and to let you know you were free to interject at any time.

Osamu had always made sure you felt like you were part of the family, and Atsumu, though he could be a brat at times, but he was your brat and he doted on you like nothing else. Looking at them you could almost see the future, with you solidly at Atsumu’s side coming to visit Osamu in his shop so you could all catch up together, hopefully someday with a spouse for Osamu too if he wanted one, and children that would argue the same way the twins did causing mayhem wherever they went.

It was a lovely dream for the future, one you hoped with all your heart would become reality, but for now you were content to simply enjoy the moment savoring every second of being loved by the biggest brat you knew.

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[ghost-party]

hi~ o/ for your follower event, I'd like to request *covers Gojo's eyes* Sukuna on either Office Coworkers, or Villains prompt; whichever tickles your fancy more. (look at what your AU!Sukuna has done to me, requesting him instead of Gojo... I am going to go put myself in time out now). Grats on 200 again ♥ and thanks for doing something for us on it! ♥ ♥

Aww, thanks for the request! Your secret is safe with me. 😂🤐 Gojo never has to know!

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, brief mention of losing parents/family, some spicy content A/N: Sukuna and the reader work at a company that produces corporate events. (That was my last experience working in an office, so... 🤷🏼‍♀️)

• • •

Sukuna + Office Coworkers

It’s your first day at your new job, and you’re currently hiding in a bathroom stall, certain that one of your coworkers already hates you.

When you arrived that morning, your boss walked you over to your cubicle, with its dual monitors, already-worn-out swivel chair, and short walls. She waved at the man sitting on the opposite side, hunched over his laptop.

“Sukuna! I want you to meet Y/N.” As she rattled off bland introductions, you barely heard a word, focused instead on the sharp gaze now locked onto yours.

At first glance, he was handsome, with a lean build, strong jaw, and dusty pink hair that somehow suited him. You also noticed a few empty piercing holes in his ear lobes.

But that expression... Why did he look so annoyed? You hadn’t even said anything yet. Maybe he was in the middle of something important, you reasoned, repeating the same cheerful “nice to meet you” you had given everyone else... only to be met with a soft grunt.

And it only seemed to get worse as the day went on. While you were on the phone with IT, going through the process of setting up your database login, you looked up and found Sukuna staring at you over the top of your joined cubicles, his eyes slightly narrowed.

When you tried to print your new hire forms and the paper jammed, there he was, standing behind you with a bored look on his face, uttering a simple, “Move,” before popping open the front of the machine and quickly resolving the issue.

At lunchtime, you both ended up in the kitchen, just the two of you, him microwaving something and you half-heartedly poking at your salad. Before you could even attempt benign conversation, he punched a finger at the keypad, removed his meal, and strode away without even sparing you a glance.

You stood there, feeling painfully awkward, until you managed to finish eating and retreat to the bathroom to calm your nerves.

Maybe he’s just not a people person, you think, biting your lip as you finally emerge from the stall and face yourself in the mirror. But the least he could do is be nice, right? Geez... Does he treat all the new hires like this?

After a short mental pep talk, you nod at yourself and make your way back to your desk. As you sit down, you avoid eye contact altogether, instead directing your attention to your email inbox.

Nearly half an hour passes before Sukuna asks, “Do you drink?”

You blink up at him. “I’m sorry...?”

His head is resting on his hand as he stares at you. “Do you drink? We usually take newbies to the bar across the street on the first day.”

“Uh... Yeah. That sounds nice.”

He makes a noise of acknowledgement and looks away — until you ask, “Who’s ‘we’? Everyone?”

Sukuna shrugs. “Whoever wants to come, but it’s usually the office events committee. We organize that kind of stuff.”

“You’re on the events committee?” The idea of this man planning birthday parties and fun, team-building activities is honestly baffling.

He raises an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No offense, but you just... don’t seem like the type.”

“And what type do I seem like?”

Before you can think better of it, you blurt out, “Rude.” Panic quickly sets in as you watch his eyes widen. But then... he laughs. It’s a low chuckle, but even just seeing his stern mouth lift into a smile fills you with a strange sense of relief.

“You’re honest. I like it.” He leans back, crossing his arms behind his head. “Sorry if I’ve been a dick today. I’m a bartender on the weekends. Had to stay late last night and didn’t get much sleep.”

“Oh.”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m sunshine and rainbows on a good day,” he warns, sitting forward in his chair.

“Duly noted. It’s just nice to know you don’t hate me.”

“Yet.” He’s still smiling, but it’s a wicked, crooked thing that has your face heating up.

• • •

Over the next few months, as your division preps for events season, you spend more time working closely with Sukuna. You learn that there’s not a huge difference between him on a good day and him on a running-on-caffeine-and-no-sleep day. He doesn’t talk much in meetings, but his facial expressions say plenty — though you’ve learned that he sometimes looks annoyed when he’s really just... fine. It’s confusing, to say the least.

Along with his piercings, he has at least a few tattoos on his forearms. It’s hard to tell how many, since he keeps them covered while at work. But you noticed them while having dinner with the team one night. He sat beside you, sleeves rolled to his elbows, holding a frozen margarita as he argued with someone from sales about marketing list sizes. You think about the mental image more often than you care to admit.

You’ve collected small details about him. He’s been tending bar for almost eight years, mostly as a side gig. He has a bad temper, which is why he was drawn to a marketing position — not nearly as many phone calls and general human interactions as you have to deal with in event production. He lives with his younger brother, Yuuji, who’s enrolled at the local university. They’ve been on their own since Sukuna was seventeen.

“He’s a good kid,” he says. You two are taking a brief coffee break in the kitchen, leaning against opposite counters. “Decent grades, working part time... He even has a girlfriend.”

“Wow.” You sip your latte, wondering how to ask the question on your mind without being painfully direct. But what comes out instead is, “Do you have a girlfriend?” because apparently your brain hates you.

Sukuna shakes his head. “Finding someone who can put up with my shit? Easier said than done.”

“Oh, come on. You’re not that bad.”

He smirks at you. “Is that so?”

You shrug and turn around, busying yourself with pouring a refill as an excuse to hide your flustered expression. “I mean... You’re still pretty annoying.”

It’s only when you feel him standing behind you that you realize he’s moved. “Don’t mind me,” he murmurs, reaching above you to grab a plastic lid from the nearest cupboard, his chest just grazing your back. You can’t help but freeze, your heartbeat erratic as you watch his shirt sleeve slide back, giving you a glimpse of the black bands of tattoos encircling his wrist.

When he pulls away, snapping the lid onto his paper cup, you glance at him over your shoulder and he meets your gaze with a knowing smile. “Annoying, huh? I’ll take it.” And with that, he walks away, leaving you scrambling to figure out what just happened.

• • •

“So... What do you think?” You swirl the ice in your glass and nudge Sukuna with your shoulder. “Your first live event.”

“I hate it.”

You’re both sitting at the hotel bar, having finally escaped the welcome reception upstairs. Although marketers don’t usually travel to your company’s events, a team member’s sudden illness left you in a lurch. Sukuna had begrudgingly agreed to accompany you to help with on-site prep and operations.

“Somehow I knew you’d say that.” You take a sip of your drink, already feeling pleasantly buzzed. “Is it the pushy attendees, the boring presentations, or the thrilling nightlife?” You gesture around at the exclusively 50+ clientele, along with the stuffily-ornate lobby full of classic artwork, antique carpeting, and gold everything.

“Yes.” You laugh, and when you look up at Sukuna, he’s staring at you thoughtfully. “But the company’s not too bad.”

“You should put that on the post-event survey.”

“Definitely ‘exceeds expectations.’” He drums his fingers against the bar top. “My room’s not bad, though.”

“‘Not bad’?” you tease. “I made sure you got the nicest one in the staff block.” When he looks surprised, you glance away. “It’s the least I could do — as a thank you for coming.”

Sukuna chuckles. “You’re always too nice to me. Might give me the wrong idea one of these days.”

Your grip tightens on your glass. “Or the right one...”

When you end up in his room, the both of you fumbling to unbutton and remove clothes as you kiss, his mouth soft yet insistent against yours, you tell yourself this is enough. As he pushes you down onto the bed, strong arms caging you in as he bites and sucks the tender skin between your neck and shoulder, you tell yourself this doesn’t need to be anything serious.

But afterwards, when his hard, lean body curls languidly around you, bare skin warm and smooth against your own, it’s hard not to imagine more — waking up beside him every morning, having breakfast together, straightening his usually-crooked tie while he pokes fun at you... You want all of it. 

For now, though, you settle for his deep, steady breaths and the way he sleepily pulls you closer, arms tight around you.

• • •

When you wake up the next morning, Sukuna is propped up beside you, dark eyes unreadable.

“Watching me sleep?” you ask, voice slightly hoarse as you roll over to look at the clock beside the bed. Six o’clock. Plenty of time to get ready for another day of work.

“Creepy, I know.” His tone is flat, but he looks gentler than usual, with his bed head and placid expression. In the early morning light, you can see the full extent of his tattoos, bold, wide lines that trace across his body. They suit him, but you can’t put your finger on why.

“Look, can we... talk? About last night?”

You stiffen, mentally preparing yourself for what comes next. 

“This was fun, but we’re better off as friends.” “We can do this again, but I’m not interested in anything serious.” “This was a mistake. Let’s pretend it never happened.”

But instead, what Sukuna says is, “This wasn’t just sex for me. I’m not really into that. Well, not anymore...” He runs a hand through his hair. “I, uh... Like you?” It comes out as a question, and his brow furrows, looking agitated. “I’m fucking this up.”

He must not expect your laugh, because his eyes widen at the sound. But you’re just so relieved. “I like you, too, dumbass.”

“Dumbass?” He playfully shoves at you. “So romantic.”

“What, you’re gonna change your mind?”

His hand moves from your shoulder to your face, stroking your cheek. “Nah... I knew what I was getting into. But the romantic thing... I think I can fix that.”

“Oh yeah?”

He grins. “You. Me. The huge, fancy bathtub. Room service. Does having mimosas with breakfast count as drinking on the job?”

You turn your head and press a kiss to his palm. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“You’re bad,” he growls, leaning over you, his breath warming your upturned lips. “When did that happen?”

“When I met this guy. He’s smart, sexy, kind of a jerk —” The rest of your words dissolve into a breathy gasp as he kisses you, teeth nipping against your bottom lip.

“Yeah, yeah... Less talking, hm? Now, how about that bath?”

[nagisasstunningpersonality]

Retranslation and Analysis of That Fight Scene

So firstly, I just want to say the subs are not bad and convey the general meaning very well, in a way that sounds natural in English. That being said, there's always some things that get lost in literal translation, and I really want to demonstrate how much depth the Japanese in this scene actually has for Karma and Nagisa's characters.

Basically the TLDR point here is that this fight is very much not about Korosensei. This is completely platonic, I promise I resisted making any shippy points.

Karma: Hey, Nagisa kun, aren't you getting extremely carried away?

Nagisa: Eh? (definitely surprised and bewildered)

Karma: The number one strongest assassin in Class E is Nagisa kun, isn't it? (uses yo here, which suggests confidence in the statement). Are you (very directly yourself, your own thoughts) wanting to quit assassination? Let's think about the talentless others who are desperately trying their hardest to kill him. When you put it like that, it's like a woman who 'has it' telling the ugly ones that they should honestly quit being so desperate to get a boyfriend, that kind of feeling?"

So some interesting analysis here is that Karma says "zuibun", or extremely, when the original translation is "a tad". The translation feels more natural in English, however it kind of makes me feel that Karma's trying to make more of a point. Nagisa has the right to be making suggestions and stepping up, but he's gone so far this time it's crossed a line.

I think 才能がないなり (talentless, saino ga nai nari) is also very interesting. Talent is the best translation, but if you look at the kanji very literally, there's "genius" and "ability". This specific word choice more implies that the other assassins are good, but Nagisa's just another level. Japanese grammar is confusing at best, but essentially 'nari' means become. So you take this as kind of like 'students who couldn't develop genius ability'.

The repetition of 'desperate' is also pretty interesting, linking the examples together better. It emphasises the point that they're kind of at a loss with. He also doesn't directly say attractive woman, he says "motteiru onna", which essentially means the same, but is literally "a woman who has (no object given but essentially 'it'). This more directly reflects to what he's saying about Nagisa, he HAS talent, this unspecified natural quality that makes him better than everyone else without trying.

There's also a lot more rhetorical questions in the Japanese, which got combined into single sentences in the English. The "let's think" thing is very literally what he says, like he's wanting Nagisa to actually consider his thoughts for himself.

Nagisa's original argument and intention may have been about Korosensei. Karma may be genuinely opposed to saving Korosensei. But that isn't the point of Karma's argument at all, he's making this about Nagisa because he's reached a limit with the both of them.

In order to spare you, more under the cut.

Nagisa: T-the aim wasn't... Above all, for assassination, your understanding is always better than mine

Karma: Saying that directly (take with slight pinch of salt - he could have also said "fixing your statement") is irritating. In reality, isn't it that you yourself are the most powerful, and you can't comprehend the feelings of weak humans?

Nagisa: That's wrong (also using affirmative yo here)! That's not what I said! These are my true feelings! Do you hate Korosensei? We went to see a movie together with him, didn't we have a variety of great times?!"

Karma: That's why, that octopus did his best to come and make a fun classroom every time, and didn't give up like Nagisa. Without bloodlust, this classroom wouldn't have been built. Can't you understand the effort?! It's not just your body, are you still a fresh elementary school student?

One thing to note here is that Nagisa isn't actually finishing his sentences. You can absolutely tell what he means because Japanese makes sense like that, but he's still dropping words. Or when he does say a full sentence, they're very short statements. He is desperate here, trying to prove a point he can't actually voice into words correctly.

The context here is that this is before we know their full backstory. Nagisa admired Karma, and he can't quite say it right yet. He thinks they're on different stages still, and Karma is frustrated because Nagisa doesn't see the point.

Karma, after all, does have this inhuman image of Nagisa in his head from years ago. The image of Nagisa looking like some kind of snake demon as he kills Karma in his sleep. He genuinely still, here, believes that Nagisa is purposely hiding this. That's why he keeps putting words into Nagisa's mouth. He's also cutting him off at points, not listening at all to what he's truly saying.

At the same time, Karma starts talking down to him. Instead of saying 'no' (how you'd end a sentence to a friend), he starts using 'kai', which is condescending and how you'd speak to a child. There's an argument here to be made for Karma doing this as a kind of defence mechanism too, but that's very complicated. At this point he really is just trying to get to him.

They are not arguing about killing Korosensei, not at all.

Karma: Huh?

Nagisa: *does the creepy eye thing*

Karma: Eh? What are those eyes? You with the social standing of a tiny female animal, are you defying a human?

Nagisa: I was just...

Karma: If you have a complaint, how about saying it after you win a fight for once? It's aimed at me, so come on. C'mon. C'mon. C'mon!

This is actually one of the most significant changes to the original.

This is the thing, Karma was never calling Nagisa a tiny mouse of whatever, he was just comparing him to one. Because he knows very clearly that Nagisa isn't like that. He sees that look in his eyes and it prompts him, in his frustration, to finally try and bring it out of Nagisa. He's trying to prove a point.

But then Nagisa stops himself. He lets go of his bloodlust for a moment, defaulting to Nagisa as we know and love him, literally turning his head away from Karma.

But Karma's too far gone at this point, he's dragged stuff up his past feelings about Nagisa, the ones he's been hiding for a year to be tentative friends with him, and now he can't let them go. He needs to see Nagisa's darker side plainly, no matter what that means.

It's also important that he says "it's aimed at me". I think this is a little deeper than literal. I think what he's implying here is this entire thing is somehow aimed at him, like Nagisa's trying to strip everything away just for his own perspective.

Obviously at this point Nagisa snaps and chokes him.

Nagisa internal thoughts: Even I...

Nagisa: I'm not going with half my feelings!

Karma: This guy...

This is also pretty significant. I'm surprised they cut the "even I" part because that says a lot about Nagisa's current feelings. He still doubts himself. He's aware that he's a pacifist, that he's got a lesser social standing, but Karma's put him into a position where he has to stand up for himself. And this is important to him.

Karma smiles when he says "this guy", getting ready to punch him. He feels like he's succeeded, in a way. Though at first he looked genuinely surprised Nagisa actually did it. There's a certain kind of satisfaction that finally he managed to bring Nagisa's 'true' self out.

Obviously at this point they get separated.

So what does all of this actually tell us? Well, pretty clearly here, this is just Karma's issues coming to light. But also a very helpful and useful moment for Nagisa's development as a character. Whether we agree with Karma using him as a punching bag or not, it genuinely does force Nagisa to get some self agency for once.

Karma and Nagisa will never be characters who sit around and talk honestly about their feelings. But even if they're using a whole situation to mask the fact that they very much are discussing their relationship here, it is still a significant moment where pretty much all the barriers they've been putting up against each other drop. They're just still not entirely on the same page through this scene.

Nagisa thinks Karma is just looking down on him and trying to pick a fight. He's baffled and confused as to why Karma feels so strongly against him.

Karma, on the other hand, thinks Nagisa is better than them all and is frustrated when he 'purposely' acts like he isn't. Karma still feels lied to from when they were kids. And he wants to expose it all, to get Nagisa to understand the position his skill puts him in. I honestly don't think Karma ever thought Nagisa was less than him at all, he just knew it would be an easy way to get a reaction. See how he flips tactic from "you're the best here" to "you're a tiny animal" when Nagisa just went into denial the first time?

I'm not going to go into the whole of their actual full fight, but there's some interesting points that reflect back on all of this.

Korosensei saying "your own answer is right in front of you", basically demonstrating that this entire thing really is just Karma and Nagisa

The entire point of the fight was to get one hit in with a knife, but Karma decides to just continuously beat Nagisa instead. Which yeah, is pretty ineffective. Pretty much proves again that it wasn't about just taking a victory.

Karma took Nagisa's hits on purpose, maybe it can be argued that this is trying to make things last longer, to get Nagisa to actually work for it.

Nagisa demands that he listens to what he has to say. And that's right, because Karma was cutting him off originally.

Karma is a super strategist right? And he was genuinely shocked that Nagisa didn't use his bloodlust to take him down. This is Karma. Sure, he's allowed to make mistakes. But this is odd for him. He was so caught up in his own perspective of Nagisa just having that skill that unfairly made him better. But Nagisa literally throws that skill out and beats Karma on his own level, pretty much disproving him. Maybe Nagisa has this special ability, but he's also worked just as hard as everyone else. He's trained to know what assassination means.

Beating Karma like this, on a 'human' level, was pretty much it. Karma stopped fighting back when he realised that, because he was disproven, and pretty much every wall he put up against Nagisa got literally choked out of him. Karma is already known as kind of an ass and a dirty fighter, you really think he'd worry about the others not accepting it if he stabbed Nagisa fair and square? If he cared that much about killing Korosensei, he would have just done it.

Their fight was never about Korosensei.

[seyaryminamoto]

I'm just thinking about what you've said in the past about Zuko's morals in The Southern Raiders and what bugs me the most is that Zuko could have easily been Yon Rha. Yon Rha's big sin, as far as Zuko knows when he makes his proposal (before Katara tells him the whole story), was raiding the Southern Water Tribe in a manner which lead to someone's death, and Zuko raided both Kyoshi Island and the Southern Water Tribe. Zuko would be an acceptable target for vengeance under his own standards.

:'D very fair point of view, Anon. I've always focused on another angle with this particular problem, namely the fact that Zuko's traumatic Agni Kai happens because he was trying to defend soldiers from being used as bait, slain in battle as though their lives were meaningless... and then he's offering Katara his assistance with killing a soldier if that's the only way to become her friend. There's such a profound incompatibility between both ideas, such a massive rift in reasoning, that I can't help but wonder if Ozai, intentionally or not, actually taught Zuko through their Agni Kai that the lives of their people aren't worth anything after all.

In general, that episode's plot is just... very questionable. I understand these kids are jaded, they've seen pleeenty of ugly stuff and even done some ugly stuff themselves, but the core of the problem with Zuko, back in the day, was that his violent pursuit of the Avatar caused lots of trouble and nobody liked him because he was being a selfish ass who wanted to fulfill the Fire Lord's orders at all costs :'D so... as blind as Katara may be over anything to do with Kya, it baffles me that neither Sokka nor Aang would step up to tell Zuko that this sort of ridiculous reasoning, impulsive behavior and willingness to resort to violence is EXACTLY what made him an asshole during the months he chased them, and that changing sides without changing those violent impulses doesn't amount to jackshit. I'd honestly prefer it if Katara were the one to tell him as much, because then she'd have the bonus of telling Zuko: "That's funny, because this sort of BS is precisely why I can't trust you!" and Zuko would be at an even bigger loss than before :'D but of course, when emotions are involved, Katara loses sight of reality and common sense, it's true...

Looking at it the way you do, just imagine if Yon Rha had told Katara "Oh. Sorry. Nice to see you again!" the way Zuko does with Suki :'D I'm pretty sure she would've actually killed the guy without even hesitating.

It's not to say that Zuko has objectively murdered anyone with the particular cruelty Yon Rha killed Kya: as far as we know, he didn't. We do know, however, that he's imprisoned people in nightmarish conditions (something even his sister cannot be said to have done), as he does in LOK, conditions bad enough that one of those prisoners (who, arguably, wasn't in the worst of conditions) said he'd rather die than return to that imprisonment. So, however "deserved" the Red Lotus's imprisonment might have been, dehydrating a waterbender and freezing a firebender for well over a decade sounds like one hell of an act of cruelty, which says he's perfectly capable of cruelty, all the same as Yon Rha was, and Zuko can't even say he's following someone's orders: he's the one who chooses to do this, plain and simple. So cruelty is NOT beyond Zuko. He can be harsh and nasty whenever it suits him. Despite what he'd have the audience believe, he isn't truly the poster child of peace and kindness :')

As you've said, Zuko caused lots of damage with his careless actions back in Book 1, actions that could have certainly cost lives if this show had been written to be grittier and darker than it was.

As a careless, casual example, here's the typical, boring old trope of "there's a kid in danger and the hero swoops in to save them!" (and there's poor Sokka on the background too ;_;). That ship just comes into shore, breaks all the ice it cares to, and it could have cost at least the two lives of those in the scene here (and who knows how many more that we aren't seeing). Is this not the same as attacking someone deliberately, with killer intent? Sure, it's not, but the ultimate outcome would be the same: someone's died, and it's your fault. And if you're a good person, you would feel bad about it. In fact, you might not even be able to think of yourself as a good person if anyone's death can be pinned on you.

Again, we don't know for sure that his actions cost any lives, but that they could have speaks for itself. That he was once part of the Fire Nation killer machine, that he was a tool to his father (even if not one he particularly cared for), should have made him all the more willing to understand that soldiers are as brainwashed as he was. No, this isn't to defend Yon Rha by any means, he was indeed a piece of shit... but Zuko doesn't even wait to meet him to confirm this. He's ready to help Katara kill a guy who, for all he knows, could have spent his whole life repenting for his actions (yes, we know that's not the case, but if the show had wanted to give us more nuance in the Fire Nation army, it could have been). Zuko doesn't even hesitate, and he even eggs on Katara until she finally decides she's not going to do it -- then he proceeds to badger Aang non-stop about how he MUST kill Ozai, funny how that goes. Which allows the interpretation that Zuko didn't learn anything at all from the Southern Raiders adventure.

In the end, if Zuko's actions cost any lives whatsoever (like, I don't know, maybe lives of the people whose food he stole in the Earth Kingdom (: what, me still being salty about this in the year of 2021? Noooo waaaaay...), you're quite right to say that it'd be fine, as far as his own philosophies are concerned, for Zuko to be executed by the injured party. It'd only be fair, right? Yet I guess that's the beauty of Zuko being Zuko: fairness isn't part of it. Justice? I don't think he's actually familiar with the concept. His sister made lots of mistakes, same as he did, but has he attempted to help her find her way, same as he was helped? Has he given her another chance? The answer is nope. Chit Sang is a convicted murderer who claims he didn't do the crime he was put in jail for: Zuko doesn't even bother asking any questions about who he is, or trying to get to the bottom of this problem. He's fine with getting the guy out of prison without first confirming whether his story checks out or not. Even back in The Blue Spirit, when he was "under" Ozai's thumb, and Ozai's priorities should have been his own, he decides that it's more important for him to capture Aang himself, and somehow the show spins that situation into "hey, Zuko's not that bad :>" when... everyone knows he's not setting him free out of any selflessness on his part, in fact, it's the entire opposite.

So yeah, more sketchy Zuko things that remain unresolved, unaddressed and go ignored all the time. Again, things that don't make much sense with the character he's supposed to be. And as usual, it's stuff we're supposed to shrug off or make a thousand excuses for in order to always find a way to see Zuko as a perfectly good person, when, as I've said before, being good takes efforts Zuko often didn't bother making, not before his "change of heart", not afterwards either.

[shadowturtlesstuff]

You belong with me

so i decided to post wadsworth first. modern au cressworth- you belong with me taylor swift

Thomas throws his phone down on the bed with frustration swirling around him as he paces. I set down my pen and wait till he turns and spots me. We often find ourselves talking via paper throughout the nights, from questions about our day to helping each other study. It is also often we watch each other be angry at something, yet I've not seen him this bad before. Finally Thomas turns and catches my eye. He stands there for a second before smiling and I quickly move around my various workbooks till I find my notebook I use to talk to him. I take my sharpie and write: ‘Are you okay?’

I watch him shake his head ever so slightly, seemingly baffled at it, but he walks to his window and opens it. The wind brushes his deep brown hair and I can't help but want to reach out and run my hand through it. I curse myself for it as he motions for me to open my window. Moving my books and pens off of me and cursing at my stiff leg as I go and open the window. Somehow I manage to hit my arm in the process and I curse, which makes Thomas laugh slightly so I forgive my body for hurting me. 

“You have a wicked mouth Wadsworth. Did you not learn cursing is unlady-like?” he teases and I relax slightly because of it.

“Fuck you,” I scowl at his smirk and the frigid wind. His eyes light up at my temper. We live across from one another, if we were to reach out we could hold hands. Which we have done. When I got rejected from the specific school I was desperate to go to, Thomas had managed to climb into my room and hold me as I cried. He's only ever needed to climb over twice to cheer me up, the other times have been to study or watch some romance programme he thought was good. I hoped wherever was troubling was something that wouldn't resort to me having to climb over. As much as I would want to, my brain may have a hard time letting me attempt it. 

“I assume dear Wadworth, you want to ask what has made me so irate?” he asks, eyes focused on behind me and fingers tapping his window sill as he sits. I watch as his cat, ridiculously named Sir Isaac Mewton, jumps off his bed and onto his seat next to him. He grabs the cat and kisses the top of his head before holding him in his lap.

“Perhaps,” I say, moving so I rest my head on the wall, “perhaps I merely wanted to ask if Sir Issac was okay.” his eyes shift to mine and despite him still being angry they soften at my attempt at humour. I am not as good as Thomas at using humour to help someone, but he always does it for me. 

“Really? You always refer to him as a little pest, whereas as with me, I am your dearest person, of course you want to know how I am feeling. My son is good though, very energetic today.” he smiles down at his cat. I remember the day he brought him home, he made me go over to his house and we spent all night playing with him. Thomas did, I ended up studying and making notes for the both of us while he gave Sir Isaac a ‘grand tour’ of his new home. The smile vanishes off Thomas's face and once again his gaze goes past me. “I assume you saw the call, well that was William. Yes, awful. Apparently though, there is a rumour that I'm with Miss Whitehall. I don't even remember her first name, but he was convinced of our relation despite my protests. Madness.” I watch him scoff, anger once again taking over his features. His cat nuzzles into him and Thomas leans into his cat. If I wasn't also mad now I'd smile at the sight. 

“Is this the same William that had convinced everyone I was dating him?” 

“Yes.”

“Bitch. Why on earth is he such a problem? Where on earth does he even make this assumptions about us?'' I find myself standing and pacing, trying to quell my own rising anger. A year ago, William had been my lab partner for a few weeks, he was friendly, but people had got it in their head that we were somehow together, and he went with it. Gossiped about me, even Thomas, and then was somehow enraged I dared to stop those rumours and be angry at him. I'd come home one day when it was particularly too much, when my father had found out and lectured me about it, as though I was in the wrong for standing up for myself. He'd cancel my lesson with my uncle out of spite, and I stormed upstairs. Thomas had been at the window, as if he was expecting me. One look at his face made me cry. I managed to open my window and he'd once again climbed in and held me as I cried. Then he made us watch this awful romance film together and held me still as I fell asleep on him. 

“I have never once,” Thomas says, dragging me back from those awful memories, “shown interest in her, nor will I ever.” He drags a hand through his hair. “She's just- a lot.”

I huff a sigh. She is awful. Had been awful to Liza and I for years. With her short skirts, high heels and the most rotten attitude I have ever witnessed. It wasn't often that I'd hate someone like that, someone so different from me in nearly every way, but she has tried to make me feel that I don't belong because of my interest in science and not the traditional girl interests.. “That is the understatement of the year Cresswell. Beside, you wouldn't work, she's too- your,” I have no idea how to explain how excellent Thomas is, how wonderful his mind is and how kind he is. It's not a side he shows to most, yet if he was ever with someone like Whitehall, it would be disastrous. I take my seat again and find him looking at me, suppressing a smirk and raising an eyebrow at me. “What?” I ask. I shrink under his gaze, pulling my hoodie over my legs as I curl in on myself. 

“I’m what? I'd be delighted to know your innermost thoughts of me, Wadsworth.”

“Your absurd but fine I'll elaborate,” I roll my eyes as he shifts so he is fully facing me, eyes completely focused, no sign of the anger he had only moments ago, “your too kind, too witty and clever and Whitehall wouldn’t appreciate you enough. You-” don’t belong with her.

Ever since he mentioned the idea of being with someone else, real or not, I have tried to ignore how much it pained me that he would be with someone else. I never expected to want to be with him, yet lately the premise of dating him has seemed very pleasing to me.

“You forgot to mention how handsome I look, or how charming I am, but I'll take it,” his voice is deeper than normal and his gaze travels over me even though his eyes are on my own. Thomas pats Sir Issac and his cat jumps off behind him with a whine. His hand reaches out for mine and I lean forward, wind making my loose strands of hair fly across my face. His hands are warm as I take them but his smile warms me more. It is small but genuine and filled with the normal Cresswell charm mixed with something I can't quite name. 

“I don’t need to inflate your ego further Thomas.” 

“I know but it would've been nice. I did say the inner most thoughts but we’ll get there. Audrey rose-” he looks down contemplating his words before he once again locks his gaze on mine, his dark brown eyes bright, “I dont belong with her, your right, my heart would never belong to her especially since it already belongs to someone else.” 

I blink at the honesty. I want to scream that you belong with me; but if Thomas is in love with someone else then I suppose I will have to find a way to deal with it. I try to keep the hurt of my face even as he smiles at me. 

“I-” Thomas lets go of my hand and stands. There's a silence between us until he motions for me to move. The idiot is going to climb into my house so he can tell me about his new found love. Like the fool I am, I'm going to let him talk about this girl who makes him look this happy. Even though it hurts that it's not me who is making him look like that. Even though I'm the one who makes him laugh when he is angry or upset. Even though I'm the one who knows his favourite songs, the books beside his bed and all his hopes and dreams.

He climbs over and sets himself on the window sill, giving me room to sit across from him. I do, even as I try to ignore the weight pressing down on my chest. “I hope you are happy with whomever has your heart Cresswell.” I say and mean it. I once again curl into myself, hoodie covering my legs as i watch him continue to smile at me, 

“Of course I'll be happy. She's amazing. Let me tell you all about her. I met her many years back and was instantly smitten with her emerald eyes and her quick witted mind. How she sings to herself every morning and how her dark curls fall across her face whenever she sits on her bed and reads. I adore her curiosity for the dead and how wicked her mouth is and how delightful it is to watch your mind at work. I love when she shows me a note through the window to see if I'm doing okay and-”

“Wait,” I blurt out, my mind catching up, “Thomas, are you talking about me?”

“Yes, finally! I thought I'd have to keep speaking forever till you realized it was you.” He starts laughing at my gaping mouth until I collect myself enough to scowl at him slightly for laughing. Thomas reaches out for my hand, moving closer to me until my back is pressed against the wall, my hoodie no longer over my legs as he rests his other hand on my leg, warmth seeping through me. “Wadsworth, darling, I have been in love with you for some time now.” 

Silence washes over us as we stare, trying to convince ourselves this is really happening. “I have something to show you.” My voice is barely about a whisper and I slide out of his grasp even though I don't want to. I walk to my bed where all my notebooks were left open and my notebooks sits. I open it out and let a piece of paper fall out. Facing Thomas I open the sheet slowly, watch him read the words. His eyes lit up at them.

I love you.

I take my place beside him again, his hands finding their way in mine once again. “I wrote that the night after you came here the second time. Something in me clicked that no matter what you'd find a way to comfort me. Not save me, but work alongside me. I wanted to tell you I just couldn't face it. But I needed to acknowledge it. So I wrote it down, and I look at it every time we use the note system; I try to convince myself to show you.” Thomas just stares at me, eyes flicking down to my lips every now and then. His hands are making circles on my leg, not entirely intentional. Thomas has always shown if he is excited or nervous by either tapping or making shapes on surfaces. The world slows completely as he leans in and presses his lips against mine. He pulls back ever so slightly, resting his head against mine and we are both smiling wildly at each other, pressing kisses until he leans further away. Thomas goes back to his side of the wall, which may as well be across the other side of the world, then he pulls me to him and I twist so that my back is against his. He holds me as we both look out the window, enjoying the freeing feeling of telling each other how we feel. 

“Now would be a perfect time to tell me how handsome I am, my love.” 

@fangirling-again @kittycat2187 @goatahoan @city-of-fae @the-hoofflepooff @padfoot-sirius-black-blog @purplecreatorhorsewagon @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing-wars @lovecakeandmore ​ @yikesitsmaddie @loveyatopluto​ @throneofsc @bookscressworth​

[streetlight11]

Deep Scar

Summary: He used to be the popular kid in high school where everyone has a crush on him. He always gets Valentine's Day gifts be it presents, chocolates, homemade brownies, etc. He somehow brought his name to college where there were people who still finds him attractive. What happens when he bumps into a girl who treated him a lot different compared to others? Will he find out the truth behind her behaviour?

Theme: college au, childhood schoolmates but with a bad past

Genre: a little angsty, fluff ending though

Warnings: mild swearing (literally just one word), slight mention of harassment but nothing too crazy

WC: 4.6k

Pairing: Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

a/n: Hey hey :) I've had this in my google drive for quite sometime so my writing might not be so good here but bear with me. P.S the words in italics are his flashback, and hannie might sound like a jerk at one point but this doesn't portray him in real life because irl he's an absolute sweetheart :') Anyways, enjoy reading!

Coming to campus every morning only to find gifts and plenty of love letters in his locker has been becoming a daily routine for Jisung. Although he has never actually reciprocated any of them, he must admit that he did love the amount of attention that’s been drawn to him since back in high school.

He was the popular kid in school where he was known for his intelligence, charming personality and of course, his good looks.

Back in high school, girls would often slot in their confession letters in his locker almost everyday. Every Valentine’s Day, his table would be filled with chocolates and homemade brownies specially for him.

But all of those gifts would eventually be passed to his close friends for them to finish it for him.

Even now when he’s already in college, words spread around the campus of his status back in Saebom High, making everyone in Hankuk College know about him. Despite this new set of attention that was being directed towards him, he managed to make friends with a few people that he trusts.

Some of them were his classmates in college, some were his friends from music class, and some were his good friends back in high school. 

That day was no different as he walked down the hall to go to his designated locker, only to find a pink paper that had been folded into a cute little heart.

“Another love letter? Dude, at this point you should really date one of them so that this whole shenanigan would stop.” Chan said with a soft chuckled as Minho and Jeongin nodded in agreement with the elder boy. Jisung rolled his eyes as he unfolded the paper and read the confession, that was pretty much the same as the other notes he received.

All of which, never got reciprocated simply because Jisung believes he hasn’t found anyone that peaked his interest yet.

After about 5 minutes, he slammed his locker shut as the four boys began to walk down the hall, not missing the constant shy giggles and whispers from every direction. Jisung simply walked with his charming smile plastered on his face, making some girls feel their heart flutter in their chest.

Just when they had made a left turn, a figure smaller than them came crashing straight into Jisung’s shoulder, causing both individuals to stumble back a step from the impact.

“Watch where you’re going, dumbass.” The girl who was rubbing her shoulder said as she locked eyes with him firmly. Jisung was slightly baffled as no other girl would even dare to look at him straight in the eye.

“Excuse me?” He said, his voice clearly confused but the girl simply rolled her eyes at him, slightly annoyed.

“You heard me. I don’t have to say it twice.” 

“Do you even know who I am?” He asked, slowly starting to feel anger boiling through his veins.

“Do you think I care?” She taunts.

“Other girls would be scrambling away by now.”

“Oh, how exciting. Next time, wear side goggles so you can watch where you’re going.” Was all she said before she shoves past him to continue her journey down the hall to go to her class.

Everyone in that hallway was surprised with their little interaction. Some of them even snickered at her for behaving that way in front of him. As far as he knows, all the girls in school never dared to speak to him in person, nor would they even look at him straight in the eyes for they would either run away in embarrassment, or their face would turn flushed red.

Jisung tried not to think much of it as he continued his walk to his class.

During lunch, the boys had gathered at their usual table. However, Hyunjin and Seungmin were running slightly late this time. They were just a few bites into their meal when Hyunjin’s voice caught everyone at their table’s attention.

“Hey guys! Is it okay if our new friend joins us? She just transferred here so me and Seungmin offered her to have lunch with us.”

At the mention of a female, Jisung whips his head around, only to lock eyes with the same girl he bumped into just a few hours prior.

“You again? Try not to miss your mouth this time when you eat.” She said as her gaze locked on Jisung, leaving him speechless.

Hyunjin and Seungmin exchanged glances at each other in confusion but decided to just carry on with lunch as they ended up sitting with her. If she weren’t too direct, Jisung could almost agree that she was acting quite the opposite towards Hyunjin and Seungmin. Maybe with the others as well. She seemed genuinely friendly and almost effortlessly bright with them. 

If he was being honest, it almost upsets him that she treated him like an outcast as compared to the rest of his close friends. Days slowly but surely became weeks as she started to grow visibly close to Hyunjin and Seungmin probably because they were her classmates.

It was a Friday evening and they all decided to go to a pool bar where they had pool tables for people to play and also have light drinks if they wanted to.

They rented out two tables for themselves as they divided into two teams.

“Y/N! Join our team!” Hyunjin called as Y/N giggled, only for her to catch Jisung staring at her from one of the high stools beside the bar.

“I’ll join if he does.” 

She said as she nodded her head towards Jisung, only for the others to immediately drag him to Hyunjin’s pool table. The game soon started as Hyunjin served first. She seems to surprise them everytime she serves because all her shots were smooth and almost effortless. It was as if she’s done this multiple times.

“Wow, how are you so good at this?” Seungmin asked as she smiled at him, only to answer his question.

“I guess I’m pretty good at aiming.”

The boy giggled as they watched Hyunjin score a ball. All the while, Jisung was silently watching her by the side. 

Not in a creepy way but more like in a confused way. After they finished their one hour at the pool bar, they left to get dinner but she decided to call it a day for her and that she needed to go home to feed her starving kitty.

The boys bid her goodbye as she left, only for Changbin to question his friend.

“Jisung ah, you cannot tell me you’re not the slightest bit intrigued by her…”

With that, Jisung frowned as his mind came swirling back to all the times they’ve hung out with her and gotten to know her better. From all the mean comments tossed at each other like they were flat bread, to the time where she seemed genuinely concerned when Jisung nearly got run over by a speeding truck.

“No… No I’m not.”

Only he knows that it was a total lie but he wasn’t going to admit it to his friends. 

His ego was too high for him to easily admit that after all these years of girls trying so hard to win his attention, all he needed was Y/N to come into the picture and that was all it took for him to finally fall for someone.

Nobody needed to know his true feelings for her. He didn’t think it would be much of a big deal so he opted to keep his feelings to himself. It was another week into April, when Chan decided to invite them over to his apartment to hang out and chill on a chilly Saturday. Chan of course included Y/N in the list, hence the reason why she was currently standing outside his apartment door.

She was wearing a brown fitted crop top, her favourite denim ripped skinny jeans, a bomber jacket and her white converse.

She was greeted by Chan as he opened the door wider for her to enter.

She made it inside only to find Felix and Minho challenging each other in a game of Mario Kart Race. Hyunjin, Seungmin and Changbin were busy playing Call Of Duty on their phones. Jisung, Jeongin and Chan were in the kitchen, cooking up some hot kimchi stew.

Y/N took off her jacket as she went to snuggle in between Changbin and Hyunjin, watching them play an intense game of COD.

She was just laying her head on Changbin’s shoulder when he jerked forward, making her body shake as he turned to Hyunjin and high fived him after winning first place. Just then, he noticed the sad pout on her face at the loss of warmth, making him giggle as he sat back down to let her rest her head on his shoulder again before he whispered.

“Sorry baby.” She giggled as she pinched his abs, making him squeak. He laughed as he corrected himself.

“I’m just kidding.”

She smiled as she nuzzled into his shoulder while they were all occupied with doing their own things. A few minutes later, the 3 boys from the kitchen came back to the living room with the pot of kimchi stew and a rice bowl. 

However, Y/N didn’t miss the subtle frown on Jisung’s face when he saw her leaning her head against Changbin’s shoulder.

The 9 of them began eating diligently as they fit in almost any possible topic they could think off. After they finished their meal, she offered to wash the dishes since they were all busy. Chan told her not to trouble herself but she insisted on helping him.

She was scrubbing the second last bowl when she heard Jeongin’s voice calling from the living room.

“Noona! Come join us after you’re done washing the dishes okay? We’re gonna play truth or drink!”

“Okay Jeonginie.” She sang in a sing-song tune as she could hear some of them chuckle in the back.

As promised, she joined them after she was done with the last bowl, only to sit in between Minho and Seungmin. They went in a circle starting from Chan. It was in a circle until it reached her, only for Changbin to eagerly raise his hand.

“Oh! Oh! I have a good one!” Changbin said as his inner corner of the lips curved up into a cute smile, making her giggle.

“If you could go back to your past, what is the one thing that you would choose not to do?” His question was good. It was theoretical but good.

Suddenly, her eyes just instantly found Jisung’s soft brown ones as she told them her answer.

“The one thing I would choose not to do? Probably allowing myself to think that whatever people said to me was true.”

The guys started to frown as they asked if something bad happened to her back then but she simply shrugged them off and told them to continue the game. It went on until it was Jisung’s turn, only for Y/N to speak up.

“I have something I wanna ask him.”

This came as a surprise for the others but they let her do the honours anyway.

“Do you remember the girl who confessed to you back in high school?” She said. His eyebrows began to link together as he frowned at her sudden question.

“Huh?”

“The one where you rejected her confession by humiliating her in front of the whole school?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Think harder.” She said.

Suddenly, memories start to flood in his mind like a flash flood.

“H-Hi. I made these for you. I hope you like cupcakes. I k-know a lot of other girls do this for you too, b-but… I-I just thought maybe I should give you something too. I- umm, I like y-you Han Jisung.” The girl confessed as she held out the box filled with her homemade cupcakes that she took time to bake for him the night before.

She bit the inside of her cheeks nervously as she diligently avoided his gaze. Just when she saw his arms reaching out to her thinking he was going to take the box from her, he forcefully smashed the box down making it slip out of her hands.

The students around them began to laugh as Jisung lifted a brow at her.

“Did you really think I’d accept your confession? Look at you. Who would date a girl who ties their hair in pigtails, have her tummy sticking out of her uniform shirt and constantly push the bridge of your spectacles up every 5 minutes? Have you seen yourself in a mirror? Nobody will ever fall for you.”

With that being said, he kicked the metal box away to reveal the fallen cupcakes as he went ahead and stepped on them like it was an insect.

The whole school laughed at her as she ran to the girls bathroom and locked herself in there as she cried her heart out. She was only 13 so it was slightly depressing for her to go through this terrible rejection.

Not only did he reject her in cold blood, he also humiliated her in front of everybody in the process. However, what made her even more upset is the fact that he didn’t seem to feel the slightest bit of remorse for saying those things to her.

That memory was as clear as day as he winced at the thought of how immature he was back then. Nevertheless, he didn’t forget the question he got from Y/N as he went ahead to answer her.

“Yeah… Yeah I remember…”

“Do you remember what you said to her?” Her voice softened as she kept her eyes on him while the rest of them had their eyes trained back and forth between Jisung and her.

“I said… I said she should look at herself in the mirror and that no one will ever fall for her.” 

The boys were shocked by how harsh he was to that said girl. Y/N could only smile sadly to him as she slowly continued. 

“Do you feel bad saying those things to her now?” 

Without much thought, he replied something that broke her heart.

“Why should I?” With that, she tried to hold back her tears as she looked at him dead in the eye before saying these next few words.

“Looks like you’re still that same cocky bastard huh?”

She soon got up from her seat on the floor, only to grab her things to leave when Jisung stood up to grab her wrist, stopping her from taking any more steps further.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, now genuinely confused as to what was going on.

“You’re really dense for someone as arrogant as you.” A scoff left her lips as her eyes bore into his, hoping he understood what she meant. After what felt like forever, Jisung finally realized as it was as though his life just flashed before his eyes.

“Wait… that was you?!” His voice was loud as it was laced with confusion and slight disappointment.

“And what happens if I say yes? Are you gonna ask me if I’ve looked into the mirror and realize that no one will ever fall for me?”

Her words stinged like venoms as he winced yet again but this time, at how hurt she seemed. She didn’t realise this but her tears were no longer held back as a few droplets rolled down her cheeks.

“Your words hurted me back then. So I tried to ignore it and move on. But when you said your answer just now, I realized that maybe you really are just an arrogant jerk.”

She finally pulled her arm out of his grasp as she left without sparing a glance to the others. Jisung has never felt so utterly remorseful, today was the first time. He mentally scolded himself for saying those words back when he was young and immature.

He has never felt so fucked up before, this was definitely the first.

A few days went by, Y/N hasn’t talked to either of the boys, not even Hyunjin and Seungmin. Every time Jisung tried to reach out to her, she would always successfully avoid him. It has been almost 2 weeks since they last talked to her as the boys agreed to go release their stress by going to the downtown club.

They had booked a booth for all 8 of them as they sat in there with some girls coming back and forth to try and get laid with either one of them.

Just then, Jisung’s eyes seemed to scan the room only to see a familiar figure dancing freely on the dance floor. He frowned as he rubbed his eyes to make sure they weren’t playing tricks on him.

He double confirmed that it was in fact Y/N, as he got up and left the booth ignoring the boy’s calls.

Right when he was about to reach the dance floor, he saw her deliberately get dragged through the sweaty, intoxicated humans and towards the back door. He followed them close behind as he saw her struggling to free herself from the man’s hold.

The minute she was out the back, the man pushed her against the brick wall as he attacked her neck forcefully.

“Stop!” She begged.

The man ignored as he started to caress her waist and moved up.

“Stop it!” She tried again as tears started to roll down her cheeks desperately.

The minute she managed to put a distance between herself and the man, the metal back door swung open harshly only for her to lock eyes with Jisung as he rushed down the steps, only to land a solid punch to the man’s jaw.

The man fell to the ground drunkenly as he struggled to stand back up.

“What the fuck man? Get your own girl!” The man said as he grabbed Y/N’s wrist and was about to pull her when Jisung roughly shoved him off again.

The man threw a few drunk punches to Jisung and soon they were both in a fist fight. The two males were starting to have blood clots and bruises all over their bodies and faces when Hyunjin and Changbin came to stop the fight.

“Jisung! Jisung! That’s enough!” Hyunjin yelled as they both grabbed Jisung by his arms and pulled him back.

“Don’t ever touch her again.” Jisung growled as the man stumbled back into the club.

Y/N frowned as she visibly hugged herself, only to see Hyunjin and Changbin give Jisung a subtle nod before they both went back inside, giving privacy to Jisung and Y/N. Once they were alone in the dark alley, that’s when she spoke up.

“Why did you come? Afraid someone might fall for me?”

“You clearly weren't comfortable with him.”

“So what? Why do you care? It’s not like he would fall in love with me. Who am I for someone to even like me? Right?”

Jisung frowned as he called out her name softly but she was quick to intercept.

“I didn’t go to Hankuk to get back at you for what you did to me. Never in a million years did I think I’d even see you again. But now that you’re standing here in front of me, that very day comes back to haunt me again. Because of your words, I have been so afraid of falling for someone, even just a tiny crush. That’s what you did to me Han Jisung and I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.”

With that being said, she turned in her heels and left. Jisung stood there like an idiot as he cursed himself for letting her walk away yet again. 

If this happened back in high school, he would probably laugh at her. But now that he was actually starting to like her, he has never felt so upset and disappointed. This was probably even worse than a break up.

She refused to speak to him for days after as she avoided everyone in the friend group.

It was a gloomy Friday night as she was laying on her couch sideways, watching a sappy romantic movie to drown her sadness. She was wearing a loose sweater that made it look like a dress on her. Her calf high socks and a pair of shorts she always wore to sleep.

She had just thought about what she could get for supper when there was a knock on her door.

“Who the hell comes at a time like this?” She thought to herself as she went over to her door and opened it without checking the peephole first. She almost stumbled as she locked eyes with the same pair of brown orbs that she’s been trying so hard to avoid for the past few weeks.

“Jisung? What are you doing here?” She asked, genuinely shocked at how he knew her address.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Please just hear me out. I don’t need you to say anything, I just need you to listen.”

She fell silent for a moment before she opened the door wider for him to enter. Once inside, he followed her to her living room, only for them to sit 3 feet apart. She urged him with a slight nod as he took a deep breath and soon began.

“Look. I know whatever I did to you back then was horrible. It was my ego talking. I didn’t know any better. We were so young… How could I possibly feel bad at the time when all I thought was to reject you?”

Just then, she cut him in by saying something that made him rethink his choices.

“You’re telling me that everything you said to me meant nothing to you just because it wasn’t you who received it?”

“I… I wasn’t thinking. I was young-”

“Bullshit. Even a 5 year old kid knows what’s nice and what’s hurtful to say to others. Don’t pull the young card on me.”

“Y/N please-”

“Get out. If you’re still gonna be the same arrogant, highly egoistic jerk then get out. You’ve said things that left a deep scar in my life and here you are saying it doesn’t mean anything? Get out.”

“Y/N-”

“I said get out!” She finally screamed as her chest was heaving, her tears streaming down her face in anger but she didn’t care. She got up as she dragged him to the door, while he tried to fight back. The minute he was out, she slammed the door behind her only to lock it as she found herself sliding down the door, only to sit on the wooden floor.

Her cries were soft, but they were filled with so much pain. On the other side of the door, Jisung could hear her cries as he too kneeled on the ground with his hands against the door.

He could hear her loud and clear as he felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. He couldn’t bear to say a word to her as he remained quiet.

The next morning, Y/N woke up suddenly wanting to get herself breakfast to clear her memory from last night. She got out of bed, took a warm shower, got changed into her sweatpants, a big hoodie and a cap. She unlocked her door and had just taken a step outside when she jumped at the slight of Jisung seated on the ground beside her apartment door.

Since he was a light sleeper, the sound of her door opening, woke him up as he quickly got on both feet.

Before she could re-enter her apartment, he pressed his palms against the door to prevent her from closing it as he spoke up softly.

“Y/N, please, please let me explain.” He begged as she wasn’t sure why but she decided to let him in. Once he was inside, they didn’t even bother to go anywhere further into her apartment as he stood by the door and began to explain himself.

“Y/N, please listen to me. I know what I did was bad. At the time, I didn’t realise how humiliating it was for you. But now that I’m an adult, I realized that my actions were extremely horrible and I would never, ever do that to anyone now.” He paused before he continued on.

“I know that whatever I said and did back then, I can’t take any of it back. And I don’t blame you for not forgetting or forgiving me for it. I admit that I deserve this from you. All I ask is for you to give me another chance to start over. But I understand if you want nothing to do with me.” He said with a tiny hope laced in his voice although he wasn’t so confident that she would forgive him this time.

She knew he felt guilty for whatever he did back then so it wasn’t wrong for her to give him a second chance right?

“How would I know you’re not just acting this way to set me up for humiliation again?” She asked.

“Would I say all those things and bring my ego down just to prove that I felt like utter shit after everything you told me, only to humiliate you even further?”

“Nobody knows what your ego is capable of.”

“If my words won’t convince you, would my actions do?”

“What if you do it, only to leave and tell on me to everyone else?”

“I can’t seem to get your trust now, can I?”

“Try being in my shoe and you’ll know.”

“Y/N please… I know I left a deep scar on you emotionally and mentally back then, but please… I beg you, please just… let me start over. I need you to trust me just this once.”

“Fine. But if you abuse my trust, I’m never speaking to you again.” 

“Believe me, you have no idea how fucked up I felt that night at Chan’s.”

Right after he finished his sentence, he didn’t waste anymore time as he reached up to cup her face in both hands and soon kissed her. She instantly melted against his body as he pulled her closer by the waist. His kisses were so gentle, as if he was afraid he would break her again.

His touch was soft as he slid his hands under her shirt only to draw random patterns onto her waist.

Just then, he pulled away from her lips but it was so addicting he couldn’t help but peck her lips one last time before he spoke up.

“I’m really, really sorry Y/N for everything back then. I couldn’t help but feel like complete shit after that night when I found out that was you. You don’t have to forgive me, I totally understand.”

Y/N just smiled as she gently tangled her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck before she spoke up.

“Would I have let you kiss me if I was still mad?”

He remained quiet as she then continued.

“Besides, I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself so please, don’t take advantage of this.” She warned gently.

Jisung kissed her for slightly longer before he pulled away and whispered against her lips.

“I promise.”

With that, she smiled as she wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest while he snaked his arms around her smaller figure. 

Ever since then, Jisung did everything he could to redeem himself for what he did to her back in high school. She slowly began to fall for him as she gave him a solid second chance and she could see how genuine he was now whenever he did something nice for her. Even if he didn’t say it out loud, she knew that he really tried his best to win her heart. And it worked.

~~~

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

The Birthday Fic

Several months in the making. Started around Ruggie’s birthday (Which is why he’s the opener) completed long past my own birthday.

Content warning for coarse language, sexuality, mentions of illness and the medication needed for managing it, and getting wildly horny to a point that even I was impressed with myself.

As always, there’s more in my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag, send me a message if you liked it! (I know what the birthday gifts were from most everyone, even if not mentioned in-fic.)

~*~*~*~

"I'm sorry dude, what did you say? You ears started going and I just tuned the fuck out."

"I said, 'when's it your turn to have the school-run birthday party?' It's got it be soon." Ruggie's intentionally twitching his damn ears, has to be, and you had to physically shield your eyes to be able to answer properly.

"I don't fucking know, man, I need to have a birthday for that."

"Everyone has a birthday."

"Yeah, but I don't know when mine is."

"Can't Crowley tell you? He's got all kind of magic."

You sighed. "He tried that, so I could remember my proper name. He can't even get a year fix."

"That fucking sucks, Yuu." Ruggie passed you a pop can before cracking open one himself. "You should get one of these, too."

"Ah, maybe Riddle will take pity and dedicate me a specific Unbirthday party." What was this, melon? Not bad.

"That's not the same because you won't get loot."

"Yeah, you wanna go through fifty boxes of chocolates to get rid of all the ones with potion-of-suck-your-dick? I'm good."

He scrunched his nose in disgust. "People still trying love spells on you?"

"Not as much, but I still get Mal to check them over for me. He's good about that."

"He just doesn't want to share."

"Shush."

"It's true!" He stopped for a moment. "Does he know you don't have a birthday?"

"He hasn't realized yet and you're not going to tell him."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu?"

"Trey?" You blinked up at him. You didn't talk as much as you'd like to, mostly because every time he showed up your mouth rapidly filled with whatever treat he'd just made.

"What do you like best for cake?"

"I will literally eat anything that you put in front of me if you make it, even if it's full of shit I hate."

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay, new angle. What don't you like?"

Oh boy, he better prepare himself. "Fondant tastes gross, modeling chocolate is white chocolate so I hate it, a cake should be cake and not mostly fucking icing and rice crispy treats, most icing's too heavy for me if it's not whipped cream- why are you writing this down."

He looked up from his notebook, blinking at you with his pleasing yellow eyes. "Because you always give thoughtful feedback to my baking and I want to make you something as a thank you."

"Oh. If that's it, I'd rather have cheesecake."

~*~*~*~

"Mon Trickster~"

"Rook, I'm trying to re-" You yelped as he squeezed your waist, and you swatted at him. "Fuck's gotten into you?"

"What, I cannot play with my sweet friend?" He'd dragged you from your seat in the library, and was now doing his damndest to twirl you around without ramming you through the tables.

"Not right now! I expect this shit from Floyd, not you." He's going to get you both kicked out of the library if he doesn't smarten up.

"Our dearest Malfeasant is playing with the Rose King right now. Besides, he lacks my talents." He stretched your arms out straight before twirling you around, your back pressed to his front.

"Is that getting away with being a shithead?" you ask as you pap the side of his face, too little force to be a slap but with a similar message of 'stop'.

"Amongst much else, my dear!" He managed to dip you low, bracing one of your legs in the air, and you wiggled out of his grasp with a thump to the floor.

"Ah, what an invitation, ma belle! But alas, I cannot. It could never be. I'll see you at lunch." And he left you there, baffled, on the floor.

You wound up getting kicked out of the library after you started shrieking in rage and kicking like a damned toddler. What the fuck was that about?

~*~*~*~

"People are being weird."

"Everyone's weird around you." If Idia's combo kept, this would be a perfect match. "You encourage it in people with your presence. It's a passive AOE. No fighting against it."

"More than normal."

"It's the curse of spring. If you aren't sneezing, you see pretty girls and get stupid." He got his perfect match, and went back to the lobby. "Even I'm not immune to simp fever and spring flowers."

"You sure? You only go outside so you don't die of Vitamin D deficiency."

He pouted at you. "Girlfriends are supposed to be nice to you, you know."

"If I stopped, you'd wonder what's wrong. Anyway, then you couldn't brag to your followers about a tsundere girlfriend."

"You're not even a tsundere! You genuinely like me even when you're mean." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "You're maybe sadodere."

"What's that one?"

"Sadistic yet affectionate."

You opened your mouth but genuinely couldn't argue. He was too fucking cute not to be mean to! What can you say? That pwease-no-buwwy aura he got when distressed was just too much.

"Yeah." He paused, a small smile creeping across his face. "Yuu."

"Yeah?"

"You really like stripes, don't you?"

You looked down, at his blue striped shirt you were wearing. It honestly fit you better than it did him. Further down was pinstriped socks, and if you remembered, the underwear had stripes too.

"What do you think."

~*~*~*~

"Mal?" "Yes?" "Why do you have all this even if you don't wear any of it?" "I do wear earrings now, thanks to you." He dropped another oversized ring onto your finger. "The rest, I simply don't bother with unless I must appear in an official capacity."

"So I'm a special occasion?"

He smiled at you, sweet and genuine. "Always."

"Then why am I your jewelry rack today?" So many necklaces. So many rings. There'd be a crown on your head, too, if the crowns for Draconias weren't essentially elabourate chains hanging off the horns.

"Perhaps I enjoy seeing you wearing my things. You wear Shroud's all the time." He was slowly going through a box of rings, trading them on and off your fingers after puzzling over them.

"Your clothes are tailored, and I'm too big around." You thought for a moment. "So, Mal."

"Yes?"

"Are you planning on something you aren't telling me?"

He blanched and immediately went shift eyed. "Of course not."

You took a breath. "I'm gonna say no."

"Yuu-"

"I'm pretty sure your grandmother would eat me alive if I said yes."

"No!" He made a shushing guesture. "I... am planning something. But not a proposal, my goodness, that would be too much pressure for you and would splinter the kingdom." He sighed. "Even if I would like it."

"I know you would. What are you planning."

"No."

"Yes, tell me."

"It's a surprise. You'll get it at some point in the future."

You thought back to some of the stranger events of the past few weeks. "... is it a birthday party, Malleus."

"Nnnnnnoooooooooooooo?" His face was a desperate, wide-eyed mask of please-believe-me.

"Yes it is."

"I didn't say that."

"You might as well have!"

"It's not." He wasn't even facing you anymore, knowing his face would betray him.

You took a deep breath. 

"I can keep pretending I don't know. I mean, if you want to throw a surprise party, I can't really stop you. And anyway," you added, "If I don't have a set birthday, there's no way I can know exactly when it's coming."

He relaxed, slightly.

"Don't get me a ring, though."

He chuckled. "That does have implications, doesn't it."

"Don't it, though?"

"I was checking what colours were most flattering for you." He finally turned around, all warm smiles. "I should have known. They all look lovely, because you're the one wearing them."

"Stop." You could feel you cheeks reddening. "If it helps, gold doesn't make my ears act up."

~*~*~*~

When you walked to your dorm one warm day, after school, you simply could not see the building for the brambles grown up since you left this morning.

"Yuu?"

"Grim?"

He squinted at you, unimpressed. "Your prince boyfriend has lost his fucking mind. Why'd he do this?"

"I think I know." You looked in amongst the branches, which held no roses, but something better. You plucked off a blackberry and held it to your little shoulder monster.

"Ew, no. I want tuna."

"Suit yourself." There was a path, and if you got on tiptoes, a tent half-hidden behind the briar. "You ready for a party, Grim?"

"What? What party?"

You shifted him from your shoulder to your hip as you walked along, careful of your sore arm. "They decided I needed a surprise party because I don't have an actual birthday. Figured it out like two... three? weeks ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He stopped, looked away, and bristled. "Why didn't they tell me?!?"

"Because you can't keep a fucking secret?"

He yelled and scrambled to the ground. "Hey assholes why didn't you tell me I better be getting presents too-" He's already out of sight, and you can't stop laughing at him. It's better like this, when he's himself.

~*~*~*~

Why is Everyone here. There's a huge stack of presents, there's a buffet table, there's chairs, there's - 

"Shrimpie's here!" And then everyone converged with enough words that it was just a wall of sound; mystery hands leading you to a chair, someone was trying to stick a hat on you -

"Wait!"

People only stepped off and quieted because your voice cracked. Idia, hiding in a corner, managed to raise sympathetic eyebrows before whispering something into Azul's ear.

"I gotta go inside for like, five minutes, I'll be right back." And off you went.

~*~*~*~

"You don't seem the type to do drugs."

You looked up and laughed. "Well, Vil, I gotta get through the day somehow." You shook out two pills and poured a glass of water.

"What are they for?" He leaned against the doorway, as though it wouldn't cover his clothes with splinters and dust.

"These," you said as you pointed to the two in your hands "are anti-nausea. They're new."

"How many of those do you take?" He nodded towards the other bottles on the counter. “I didn’t see them during training.”

"Well," you said, as you started to number them off on your fingers. "I started the first ones after Eliza, to help stabilize my organs, the second ones were immunity-boosting after my pneumonia, I started taking vitamins after that as well, I got sleeping pills for nightmares after Jamil blotted - they don't always work, but hey - and, well." You shook your current bottle. "Your curse vapours are pretty good, it turns out."

He blanched, and you backpedaled. "You weren't yourself, and I only have to take these before meals now. I had to get IVs in the morning for a few days, I couldn't keep... wait, wait, shit, no, I'm sorry, don't make that face -"

Vil crossed the distance, putting his face very close to yours. "You should have told me."

"Why make you feel even worse, man?"

"Because I could have formulated something better for the damage." He flicked your nose, more exasperation than malice. "Cures and poison go hand in hand. I can't fix what was done if I don't know."

"Taking care of my medical woes is not your job, Vil."

"You don't get to tell me what is and isn't my job." He squeezed you close with one arm. "You're just an exhausting little potato."

"I'm a delicious little sweet potato that you can't resist."

He sighed, exhausted. "Yes you are. Now take your pills and stop with secrets."

~*~*~*~

"What kept you?"

"Had to make sure there's room in the fridge for all your food, Trey." He hadn't chosen one cheesecake - he had at least two dozen varieties of bite sized miniatures, labeled by flavour and potential allergens. "You were busy."

"Well, I felt like experimenting. I hope you don't mind."

"You're the one doing me a favour." You looked around, everyone chatting idly with one another. "Where's Mal."

"..."

"I swear to fucking god if he didn't get an invitation to the party he helped organize-"

~*~*~*~

It turns out he'd left to fetch an obnoxiously large bouquet of flowers, the scent so overpowering you thought your chair might tip from the force of it.

"You do enjoy them?" Mal was so cute when unsure.

"Yes, dear." As long as people didn't crowd in again. Lately, you can only take so much sensation before your brain shorts out and you start yelling. "Set them on the table, I'll have to start on them later." Hairspray and an arid room would have those dried within the week.

"Which part of the celebration will we start with first?"

"I don't know. It's my party but you're the ones throwing it. Where's Grim?"

He pointed over to one of the set up tables, where Grim sat in a pile of wrapping paper, furiously kick-scratching at a wriggling toy fish as big as he was, while Cater filmed. "We realized a few days ago he'd be unhappy if he didn't get his own presents."

"Aww. Is there catnip in that?"

He leaned in conspiratorially. "We're not supposed to have any on campus because Kingscholar is susceptible to it."

You went right past normal laughter straight to wheezing.

~*~*~*~

So far, the highlights were: A mycological photobook from Jade big enough to crush someone's head with (that he cheerfully wrote as such on the inside flap), an enormous multipack of slipper socks from Ruggie (with a note saying it was a return on the doughnut-patterened ones you'd given him for his own birthday) and a parure set from Floyd, crafted from thousands of woven seed pearls with carved coral feature beads that was frankly obscene in the amount of money it must have cost. (He, of course, said it was worth it as long as you wore it for him, and simply laughed when you quipped that he meant with clothing right?)

The rest was fantastic, still - various books and movies, a pretty glass vase from Ace stuffed with wildflowers, fine silk dresses from Kalim and a simple belled bracelet tucked in, from Jamil. Currently, you were opening a basket from Vil.

"Oh, wow," you meant with sincerety as you pulled out a light, fragrant soap. "You make this yourself?"

"Yes. There's soaps, shampoo, conditioner, perfumes, lotions..."

You smiled at him sweetly. "You saying I stink, Shoenheit?"

He mirrored your smile right back at you. "Be sure to use them."

"... I'm going to kill you," you said, laughing, as you lobbed the wrapping paper at his face.

~*~*~*~

"Az?"

"Mm?" He was watching with amusement as you looked the jacket over, a lovingly tailored frock coat in periwinkle wool and shell toggles.

"Are you sure this'll fit?"

"Of course." He guestured down the table to Rook, who waved. "He checked your measurements."

"When did-" Ohhhhhh. Oh. Alright. "I'm surprised he couldn't tell by just looking."

"I could, mon ange! But that was more fun!"

~*~*~*~

Malleus barely hid his pout when sliding his box over to you, and it didn't take you long to guess why. "Floyd's jewels really show yours up, huh."

"Perhaps," he said, pointedly not looking at the boy currently playing with Grim.

"Yours are more special because they're from you." When unwrapped, the box was stunning; carved walnut with shell inlaid curlicues. "My god, how old is this?"

"Older than I am," he said with a smile.

"How old is that, Mal."

He just kept smiling, and you rolled your eyes and opened the box to reveal a piece far, far different than the frothy confection Floyd gave you. A single, sizable brooch of gilt and enamel, a tiny faerie woman staring up at you with imperious emerald eyes, she was so lovingly crafted you could see the tension of her muscles and the hair between her legs.

"This piece is only a hundred and fifty years old," he said mildly. "The artist lives in the Valley of Thorns, and created it in the image of her lover." His smile was fond, and sweet. "They're still together to this day. Even if we may not last so long, I hope that it can be as strong."

The sentiment was enough to make you tear up.

~*~*~*~

Several tissues and a bat-shaped blanket from Lilia later, Idia pulled out a large box. And another, and another.

"Uh, Idia."

He just turned red as he stacked another box.

"Dude, holy fuck. What did you do?"

"Looked at your wishlist on your shopping websites." He's flickering pink at the tips of his hair. "Couldn't decide."

"I told him to just get them all!" Ortho looked wildly proud of himself. "Some of them are from me."

You blinked several times. "I thought the sites broke." You started feeling faint. "Idia."

"Yes?" He finally brought out one last box, easily two thirds your height, and set it in front of you.

"Some of those dolls were... so much madol."

He was shifty-eyed. "Yeah."

"Some of the outfits were themselves more than some of the dolls on those wishlists."

Despite the redness, his face was still. "Yeah."

"Oh my god." You're already sitting down, but you need to lie down. "That's too much money."

"It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Why do you have so much money one of those sites alone was at least a million madol's worth of-"

"Please just open the boxes," he said in a strained voice. "I don't want them all staring."

You take your shaking hands to start unwrapping, mentally trying to figure out which rooms in the building were sound enough to hold obscene amounts of porcelain, resin and plastic. By the time you were done, there were over forty of varying shapes and sizes with complete wardrobes for each; the last not even on any list - that was an art piece near as tall as you, a fine bone china girl with golden curls and knowing eyes from an artist whose work did not go for less than five million madol even firsthand. Your vision greyed at the sight of her, and when you came to your senses, everyone breathed a sigh of relief before spending the rest of the evening treating you as something at least as delicate and precious as her.

~*~*~*~

It's just past sunset, and guests are still milling about. You're not really looking at them, though - you're losing your little friend.

Grim's only himself in daylight, now. Once the night hits, he goes back to the strange, feral thing that laid your wrist open to eat a chunk of solid ink. He's gone twitchy, wordless, pacing with his now headless robot fish in his mouth, before finally tearing through the brambles to god-knows-where.

"... I don't know what to do about it. He doesn't come back at night anymore. What if he doesn't come back at all one night?"

"I won't let that happen." Idia was draped over the back of your chair, idly playing with the wrapping on your wrist. You couldn't see his face, but a curious tension was clear in his voice. "How many of those crystals has he eaten?"

"All of them, as far as I know." There may have been one on the camping trip that you were mercifully excluded from; thankfully your restraining order against Vargas meant that Grimm had been allowed to attend by himself. Good thing, too, your period had arrived weeks early. "Do you think it's like mercury poisoning? The effects get worse as more collects in his body?"

"Maybe. It's something to look into."

You snorted, lightly. "What do you know about it?"

"... Less than I'd like." Before you could ask, he leaned down to your ear to whisper, "I'd rather know you."

"What, now?" You looked around at the tables. "There's still people here-"

You barely stifled a cry when he nipped at your earlobe. "I put on something nice for you~" You could hear the smirk in his voice as he played every trick in his book to goad you. "Unwrap me and see~"

It took every ounce of self control in you to not throw him down on the table and take him right there, in front of God and every student in the school.

~*~*~*~

"I'm too late, I see."

"Close that damned door before everyone hears."

Malleus obediently shut the door to the balcony before setting his slotted pillow on the dresser. "They couldn't even if they had their ear to the door, I soundproofed all our rooms months ago."

"Aren't you clever. Did they buy the excuse?"

"I think that they would have believed that you were going to bed if you did not say it as soon as Shroud went inside looking very proud of himself."

You flopped back onto your pillows, eliciting a sleepy grunt from Idia. "Shit."

"And if you didn't trip on the stairs in your haste."

"Now you're making fun of me."

"Perhaps," he smiled, sitting at the foot of your bed and idly stroking your leg.

"So, why didn't you tail up after us?"

"I am, if I try very hard, capable of some discretion, even when it comes to you," he huffed. "And anyway, someone had to see everyone off, get everything put away, and bring the gifts inside."

Your face fell. "I'm sorry-"

He crept up to put a finger to your lips. "It was very simple. Now," he pressed himself against you and turned to look at Idia's drowsing form, "what is this?"

You snickered lightly to yourself. "I think he found my browsing history." All you'd left on him was a fine pair of silk stockings, with delicate stripes from thigh to toe. You'd never thought he'd even consider wearing something like that, but your pretty blue boy was so full of surprises.

Malleus hummed to himself as he reached out a hand, dragging a finger along one bruised hip. Idia only sighed and fluttered his lashes, and Mal let out a stuttering gasp.

"Do you think," he whispered, voice hoarse, "that if I took these off with my teeth, that he would still stay asleep?"

You felt faint at the thought. "I don't know, but let me watch you try."

~*~*~*~

You awoke, later, to Idia sitting with the blankets pooled around his waist, five of his blue screens open. You couldn't make much sense of them, too sleepy to make out the letters on their obnoxious brightness, so you reached out both hands to squeeze his waist.

He yelped and scowled at you. "Go to sleep."

"No, you." The screens weren't making any more sense, but there was, briefly, a picture of Grim. "What are you working on?"

"I'm almost done," he said, which was not an answer but you were too tired to notice, so you reached up his back to wind a few locks of hair around your hand - and pulled, which lead to another annoyed yelp as he quickly saved and closed his work. "Just say you're weak to light attacks instead of doing that."

"You know I am." When he finally laid back down beside you, you put your face to his chest, as much to block out the light from his hair as for warmth and comfort. No wonder he slept so poorly, he literally gave off blue light every hour of the day, that only dimmed once he was already asleep. "Tell me about it later, okay?"

"Later," he said, and you drifted off between your two boys, which was almost as nice as sleeping with Grim in your bed, but this would have to do until he got better.

[marvelyningreen]

Andante

[Peter Maximoff x reader (X-Men: Apocalypse)

Summary: When an injury brings Peter’s superhuman speed to a screeching halt, you figure he could use some company and cheering up.

Warnings: mild language

Notes: could be interpreted as romantic or platonic, if that’s more your speed]

           You hurry in from the rain, pausing just long enough to shake off your umbrella on the doorstep before closing the door behind you. You take a moment to wipe your shoes on the mat in an attempt to keep them from squeaking in the tiled halls of the mansion.

           The floorplan of this rebuilt version is practically identical to the original. The design and decor are much the same, too. Still… You feel a bit like a stranger, or maybe the mansion itself does.

           With everything else that’d happened, you hadn’t really had a chance to process your own experience that day. One second, you were trimming the hedges by the mansion’s front steps. The next, you were a hundred yards away, surrounded by the students and staff, and the mansion was exploding, and suddenly there in your midst was your childhood best friend – Peter Maximoff, all grown up.

           It’s funny how someone you knew for such a short time could’ve made such an impact on you. Really, you and Peter only knew each other for two years. It baffled the teachers how a quiet goody-two-shoes like you could be thick as thieves with resident mischief-maker Peter Maximoff, but you were practically inseparable. Perhaps it was partly due to some truth in the old saying about opposites attracting. But there was more to it than that. You and Peter shared a secret.

           Your sporadic telekinesis had nothing on Peter’s incredible speed, but he never seemed to mind. You were both just so happy to finally have someone who understood, who you didn’t have to hide from. Those two years were some of the best of your life.

           And years passed, and you grew up. You kept your abilities hidden, but you kept the memory of Peter with you. You’d think of him often, hoping that he was doing well, wherever he was. You never expected to see him again.

           Lost in thought, Hank hurries around a corner and nearly bowls you over. You both apologize to each other, laughing, and continue on your respective ways.

           It feels strange being back here after… Well, after everything. Everyone is doing their best to settle back into a routine, but it isn’t quite working yet. Maybe it won’t ever feel the same.

           The students either converse too loudly or are oddly subdued, with very little in between. Scott Summers’ group of close friends is never far from his side, and the faculty likewise seem to hover around the professor. It’s difficult not to dwell on how bad things had gotten, and how much worse everything could’ve been.

           And if it’s difficult for you, you can only imagine how it must be for the person you’re here to see. You pause to knock politely at his door, and the voice that answers sounds oddly terse.

           “You can come in.”

           You slip into the room to find Peter scowling morosely out the window. He’s still laid up in bed, his broken leg in a cast and propped up on a pillow. He’s got a wicked case of bedhead, and there are dark rings under his eyes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so tired.

           There’s an odd sound you can’t quite place – like the low hum of a fan or the purring of a cat – and you realize that it’s just Peter drumming his fingers restlessly on his nightstand at impossible speeds. He turns his head, and when he sees that it’s you walking through the door, his expression shifts into one of relief.

           “Oh, thank God,” he says, “I thought it was somebody coming to make sure I’m still “resting.” C’mere! Have a seat!”

           You grab a nearby chair and drag it closer to his bedside. You hate to see Peter cooped up and frustrated like this, but it’s good to see him, period. You don’t like to think about what could’ve happened to him in Cairo.

           When you look back up at Peter, his hair is smoothed down neatly. You snort involuntarily. If he's feeling well enough to be vain, it must be a good sign.

           “How are you holding up?” you ask.

           Peter slumps against his stack of pillows and groans dramatically, letting his head fall back.

           “I’m bored out of my mind. Do you know that they’re not letting me walk for a week? A whole week! Something about a risk of my leg not healing right if I move too fast on it. I said I’d walk like a normal person, but they apparently don’t trust me. Can you believe that? Don’t answer that. So I asked them just to drug me, knock me out for the rest of the week so I can get it over with, but they won’t do that either. This blows.”

           It’s hard not to smile, but it’s just so good to hear his voice. And, damn, people say you talk too fast. You’d forgotten that Peter was the true motor-mouth. Maybe he’s where you picked it up from. Though he still looks annoyed, Peter seems a little more relaxed after all that. Apparently he needed someone to vent to.

           He rolls his head to one side to look at you, and his brows furrow. “Hey, are you okay? You look tired.”

           “I look tired?” you say, “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

           “I haven’t, actually, because the mirror’s all the way over there, and I’m stuck in bed. You wouldn’t guess that having to sit alone with your own thoughts would wear you out, but apparently it does.”

           You’d had a feeling that the broken leg isn’t all that’s weighing on his mind. There’s still the whole Magneto business.

           You almost ask him about it, but you think better of it. Peter’s got a lot to mull over on that front. If he wants to talk about it, you’ll be there to listen, but you don’t want to bring it up when he doesn’t have any way to exit the conversation if he needed to. You decide to change the topic slightly.

           “Listen,” you say, “I never got a chance to thank you. You saved my life. You saved so many people. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t turned up at the mansion when you did.”

           Peter ducks his head a bit as he smiles, probably pleased to get a little recognition. There hadn’t been much time for gratitude in the moment. There hadn’t been much time for anything, really. And there certainly hadn’t been time to reconnect.

          You’d chased after Scott and his friends into the wreckage, trying to make sure none of them got hurt, and then things went from bad to worse. Suddenly, you found yourself tagging along with these immensely powerful teenagers on a fly-by-night rescue mission. It’s a good thing you did, too. Who else was gonna fly that getaway plane?

           Your own mutant abilities had never been particularly strong, not in a combat sense. You’d learned to be a pilot in an effort to make yourself useful. You just hadn’t expected it to pay off in a situation like that.

           “What can I say? Right time, right place… Right speed.” Peter’s grin turns rueful as he glances down at his busted leg. “I mean, by all rights, I should be thanking you, too.”

           You’d been trying not to dwell on that whole experience. It makes you feel a little sick to remember seeing that familiar silver streak darting around while Apocalypse was tossed in the air like a ragdoll, and then feeling the hope choked out of you as you heard Peter scream in pain.

           You don’t know how you managed to scramble down out of that second story ruin after Hank and Scott without hurting yourself any worse, but you did. You tried to shake it from your mind – the feeling of shrapnel and energy battering the telekinetic field you’d struggled to maintain around Peter and Mystique.

           You clear your throat, as though that’ll somehow clear out the memory as well. “Yeah… I guess sometimes you don’t know what you’re capable of until it’s literally do-or-die.”

           “I don’t just mean Cairo.” Peter shakes his head. “Well, that, too. But I don’t just mean that. I mean when we were kids. You always had my back.”

           Just before middle school, Peter’s family had moved away. You weren’t quite sure why, but it seemed like something had happened and Peter wouldn’t talk about it. He spent his entire last week in town with you, and on the very last day he hugged you tightly and promised that he’d come back and visit if he could.

           You never heard from him again.

           It was only years later that you’d put the pieces together �� the Maximoffs’ sudden move, the well-dressed men turning up at the school and asking strange questions. Peter must’ve gotten caught using his powers, and his mother packed up the whole family and fled to protect him.

          “For weeks, months after we moved away, Mom was so scared. She wouldn’t let me out of the house. She thought that, any second, somebody was gonna show up and… I dunno, take me away, I guess. But I wasn’t worried. I was a cocky little shit, y’know?”

           You snort. “‘Was?’ Pretty sure that part of your personality hasn’t changed.”

           Peter laughs, but it fades quickly.

           “I heard that people came to our old school looking for me. And, hey, they never found me and Mom, so I figured you must’ve covered for me.”

           If there was one thing you were grateful to your younger self for, it was your instinctive distrust of these suspicious strangers.

           “I didn’t tell them anything,” you say, and Peter nods.

           “I knew you wouldn’t. But this one day, something hit me. What if they found out that you were a mutant, too?” Peter shakes his head, biting his lip. “I was terrified. I thought they were gonna find you, and… and I don’t know what I thought they’d do to you.”

           You feel cold all of a sudden. That thought hadn’t occurred to you. You’d been so focused on trying to keep Peter safe that you never once considered that you might be in danger, yourself. All those news articles about what Bolivar Trask had been up to ten years ago come flooding into your mind. You brush them aside and focus on what Peter’s saying now.

           “I wanted to run back there, make sure you were alright; maybe – I don’t know – take you with me and run away so we’d both be safe. I actually bought one of those AM radios, if you can believe it. Every night, I’d use the skip to listen to the news back there. I never heard anything about you, so I had to make myself believe it meant that you were okay. Otherwise I would’ve gone crazy, y’know?”

           He laughs again, but it sounds a little shaky.

           “Yeah, I know,” you say quietly. The air in the room feels sorta heavy now. Damn it, you’d come here to cheer Peter up, and it’s about time you get to it. You change topics with all the grace of a sledgehammer. “Speaking of none of this, I brought you something.”

           Peter immediately perks up. You rummage in your backpack and pull out a box of Nutty Buddy bars.

           “I remember these where your favorite when we were kids. I didn’t know if you still liked them, so I brought some Star Crunch, too. But you don’t have to-”

           Peter seems to blur for a moment, and suddenly both boxes are torn open and several wrappers are arcing their way into the trash can. Peter lets out a satisfied sigh. You might’ve remembered his favorites, but you’d forgotten his habit of absolutely inhaling them.

           “Okay, I guess I shouldn’t have worried,” you say.

           “What else you got in that bag?” Peter asks. “It can’t all be snack cakes. Unless it is…?”

           He’s joking, but you can tell he wouldn’t be disappointed if the answer was yes. You heft your heavily-loaded backpack onto the edge of the bed.

           “I figured you’d be bored, so I brought some books over in case you… What?”

           Peter never had a great poker face. You can tell that he’s definitely trying to smile, but that expression is a pained grimace. He laughs ruefully.

           “I might not be able to walk, but my hands still work. And my eyes. Did you know I can read a whole bookshelf in two hours?”

           “Oh…”

           You hadn’t thought of that. You look down, crestfallen. Of course, if something can be done at speed, that’s how Peter will do it. So that rules out all the other usual time-killers – crosswords or jigsaw puzzles or craft projects.

           But you remember Peter enjoying some things that can’t be sped through – live music being the main one. You start to wonder about the logistics of sneaking Peter out to take him to a concert or a play or something, but that’d be difficult to pull off without the professor catching you. Hmm…

           Peter’s brow furrows for a second, and then his expression brightens.

           “Hey, why don’t you read them to me?”

           You blink in surprise. “What, me?”

           “Yeah, you. Who else?”

           At this prospect, you’re suddenly rethinking everything. For all Peter might call himself a loser, you’d always seen him as infinitely cooler than yourself.

           “I don’t know. These are some of my own books, and I don’t know if you’ll actually like any of them.” You can feel yourself blushing preemptively, certain he’ll judge your taste in literature. “Maybe if I run to the library instead-”

           “No, don’t go!” Peter interrupts. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there, and I’m sick of being alone. Come on, read me your nerd books. Please?”

           He turns those big, pretty, puppy-dog eyes on you, and it’d be almost impossible to say no, even if you wanted to. Which you don’t. You sigh, smiling at him.

           “Alright, you win,” you say, “But you have to at least pick which one.”

           His face brightens into a full thousand-watt grin. “Done!”

           Peter blurs once more as he shuffles through your selection of books. Then suddenly he’s still again, tilting his head as he studies a stout little paperback.

           “Hey, didn’t they make a movie out of this?”

           He tosses it to you and settles back against the pillows, watching you expectantly. You pull up your legs to sit cross-legged on the chair and take a deep breath. Here goes.

           “‘Carl Conrad Coreander – Old Books.’ This inscription could be seen on the glass door of a small shop…”

           You read on, interrupted only by the odd quip or question from Peter. You hardly mind his commentary. You’re just happy that the story seems to be entertaining him. He’s a far cry from the agitated ball of nerves he’d been when you walked in.

           You glance over at the clock and see that two hours have gone by. You wonder if Peter would mind you taking a quick intermission to give your voice a break. But as you turn to ask him, you fall silent.

           Peter’s head is lolled back on the pillows, his eyes closed, his lips parted slightly. His chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths – sound asleep.

           You smile fondly at him. Poor guy. He really must’ve been exhausted.

Telekinetically, you switch off the lamp. The atmosphere in the room softens to the grey light filtering in from the rainy day outside. There. That’s more conducive to sleeping.

           You make note of the page you’d left off on and close the book, picking up your copy of Howl’s Moving Castle instead. Moving as carefully and quietly as you can to keep from waking Peter, you make your way over to a more comfortable spot on the window seat.

           You’d hate for Peter to think you’d run out on him after he fell asleep. You’ll stick around. And if he needs anything when he wakes up, you’ll be here. That’s what old friends are for.

[sweetwritertanya]

Nothing To Be Jealous About (Jungkook)

A/N: Hello everyone! I’m here to announce a new BTS series that I am starting! I had this idea to make a ‘jealous series’ with the boys a long time ago and it felt right to do it now. I had this idea for Jungkook’s story and I just had to write it. I don’t know if the others will get a fic as long as this one, but we’ll see! Hope you all enjoy it!

Edit: This is also my first ever moodboard or however you call it for one of my fics! Because I always have a outfit in mind for both the reader and the member, I thought it made sense to add a moodboard. I don’t think I’ll do it for all of my fics, but I’ll try with this series. Tell me what you think! Should I keep doing it? Does it help as you read? Also, big thanks to @tipsydipsydo​ for her guidance when I asked about her own moodboards! She’s a cutiepie!

Summary: For the first time since you started working out, you go to the gym with Jungkook. Afraid for how he would feel seeing someone your size exercising, his reaction turns out to be what you least expected from him.

Warnings: SMUT!!! Do be prepared for: swearing, erotic body touching, marking, oral (female receiving), protected sex (trying to make it a more common thing in this blog), rough sex, sex on the floor, missionary position, a bit of a possessive Jungkook, but he gets softer and sweeter by the end.

Word Count: 3280

You knew it would be a bad idea to go with Jungkook to the gym, which was why you always came up with excuses to avoid it. For months and months, you had been going alone to the gym, purposely on a different schedule from your boyfriend. However, turns out that the reasons you shouldn’t have gone to the gym with Jungkook were a lot different than what you had assume.

Naturally, in your head, the main reason for preferring to go alone was because you didn’t want him to see you exercising. Being a big girl that only recently started to work out for health benefits, to say you would be embarrassed of him witnessing your routine would be an understatement.  There would be sweat, there would be tears, there would be a flushed bare face and dirty hair that you had no intentions of him ever seeing.

But, as you found out, life had an ironic sense of humor. Unable to find a reason to deny Jungkook’s invitation this time, you were currently doing push-ups as your trainer guided you, loudly counting as you went, numbers getting further and further apart from how slow you were going due to how tired you were.

You had asked him to start your training on the opposite side of the room from where Jungkook was, hoping that would somehow make him forget you were even there and not see your humiliating state. As you got up and the huge muscular man in front of you asked you to get ready to start the much-hated burpees, you cast a glance towards the younger man, perplexed when you saw his state.

Jungkook was not working out at all. He was sitting at the seated arm curl, two heavy dumbbells on the ground next to his feet. That on itself was confusing, since he took his training at the gym very seriously and would only stop to catch his breath. Yet, it looked as if he hadn’t even started exercising. The most shocking part was the way he was staring at you. No, actually, he was rather glaring at your personal trainer.

Bushy sharp eyebrows furrowed deeply, lines scrunching his button nose, pouting lips pulled down and usually sweet doe eyes turned dark and angry, round shape lost as he squinted heatedly at the man in front of you. Your trainer tapped your arm to catch your attention again, asking if you were ready to continue. You look back at Jungkook only to realize he had completely looked away, picked up the dumbbells and started lifting them, a bit too speedily if you had to say.

Still unsure of what was going on, you actually told him that you were done for the day. Taking a few sips of water and cleaning your sweaty face with a towel, you hesitantly walk towards Jungkook, who was now seemingly focused on what he was doing, not sparing a look your way when you approached him.

“Hey, Kook, I’m done for the day” you inform him, stopping a few feet from his right.

“Yeah? You sure your trainer doesn’t mind?” he dryly asks, not stopping his movements or regarding you at all, confusing you further.

“I… I stopped earlier than usual, actually… James probably would have wanted me to go on for a while longer.” You tried to ignore that pang in your heart that told you Jungkook was judging you, that he was offended you only worked out this much. That he expected more from you.

“James? You’re even on a first name basis…” he puffs in frustration.

Jungkook places the dumbbells he was using down and turns his head the other way from you, elbows rested on top of his knees, hands clutching together and foot tapping persistently on the ground. You realize it then. It creeps up on you, the realization that left your mouth hanging open in incredulity.

“Wait… Are you… Are you jealous, Kook?” The skepticism was evident in your voice.

The boy stands up suddenly, looking at you as if you’re crazy, but his body language spoke volumes. He crossed his arms, eyebrows still pulled together, cheeks puffed and lips in a pout, weight shifting from foot to foot. A hurt look behind his avoiding eyes.

“Oh my God, you are!” And you actually chuckle at that, not only from how ridiculous that sounded to you, but from the pure relief washing over you at that notion. You were not the one bothering him, your personal trainer was. Not that he would confess it any time soon.

“No, I’m not! I am, however, done for today. Let’s go.”

He basically stomps away, making a bee-line for the male dressing rooms while you made way into the woman’s one. You would be lying if it didn’t feel flattering knowing such a good-looking man like Jungkook could grow jealous because of you. There was a stupid grin on your face that you just couldn’t wipe off.

You stayed silent the ride home, trying to hide your smile from Jungkook’s view so as to not distract him while he was driving. But you couldn’t help the glances you threw his way, curious as to what brought this jealousy up. As far as you know, your personal trainer remained very professional with you, there was no flirting going on at all.

Once home, Jungkook crashed down on the sofa in the living room, ready to spend the rest of the day playing video games and ignoring you. But of course, you wouldn’t let the misunderstanding go on any longer.

“Jungkook, why the hell are you like this? There is nothing to be jealous about!” you reassure coming to stand in front of him, between the sofa and the screen of the television. He opens his mouth in upcoming defiance, obviously about to deny it yet again, but you don’t let him. “And don’t tell me you are not. I know you, Kook. Now, let’s talk about it. Or do you wanna be mad forever?”

It’s your turn to cross your arms over your chest and lean you head to the side as you lift one of your eyebrows, awaiting his response. The boy looks down, thinking about your words, before sighing and leaning back on the couch, hands fidgeting on his lap and looking away to the side.

“You’re the one keeping things from me” he accuses, albeit in a small voice.

“What? I’m not” you defend yourself, baffled.

“Now I know why you always avoided going with me to the gym. You didn’t want me to see you with your personal trainer. Oh, sorry, is ‘James’, isn’t it?” Still not looking at you, the sulking boy almost spits the name, vexed.

Finally understanding, even if his conclusion was a bit of a stretch, you feel for him. You kneel down on the carpet in front of him, catching his hands on yours and making him look at you. Once he does, still suspicious, you just smile warmly up at him.

“Kook, I was embarrassed of you seeing me in the gym. It had nothing to do with that guy” you explain patiently. “Honestly, did you notice how I look when I go to the gym? No one will be interested in this!” You point at yourself, fat, in comfortable but unflattering workout clothes and with no make-up on.

“Stop it. I saw the way he looked at you. I saw him taking advantage and touching you” he accused, plump bottom lip puckering further.

“Touch? Were you seeing things? He never touched me” you countered, shaking your head.

That’s when Jungkook launches forward, grabbing you by the shoulders and making you yelp in surprise as you lean back and somehow end up lying flat on the carpet. Before you can even process what was going on, he latches his mouth to the side of your neck and sucks on the skin harshly, for sure leaving a bruise. You hiss at the pain, but can’t deny the fact that it sent jolts straight to your core, your skin hyper sensitive to his abusing lips.

“Right here while you were doing crunches” he barks, voice still small but irradiating bitterness.

“Wha…?” Your brain still jumbled, you just vaguely stare up at him as you try to remember anything of the sort. You recalled your trainer having to help you going up on the last few crunches, one hand leveraging at the base of your neck.

Before you could ask him if that was what he was referring to, Jungkook leans back down and does the same treatment to your left arm, actually biting down with his teeth just enough to leave the small indentation of his teeth on the first layer of your skin.

“And right here, obviously trying to get your attention.” The memory of that seems to leave him even more infuriated, deep frustrating line scrunching the bridge of his nose and jawline tensing up tremendously. His big round eyes settle on yours with intensity and you lose your voice for a moment. “But you’re mine, right? You are my girl, my girlfriend, no one else’s, right?”

You nod your head, still in absolute disbelief that this gorgeous human being hoovering above you had any doubts about that. Your hands sooth the skin of his strong arms that were holding him up, words finally coming to you again.

“Of course, Kook. I’m all yours, always will be” you promise, trying to convey your honesty through your eyes.

“I’ll prove it to them. Leave my marks all over your body so they can see it.”

The rasp on his usual sweet voice had you swallowing dry and heat pools at your center. Damn, he was so hot like this. And then he actually takes actions to his words and pulls your t-shirt up, revealing your stomach that he launches for and nips and sucks on the flesh, deep bites and squeezes of his hands that you no doubt would see the next day. You jeer, but the pain mixes with pleasure and the noises that come out start sounding more like moans than anything.

And then he moves further down, avid hands grabbing at the fabric of your sweatpants and pulling them down your thick thighs, leaving them bare for him. Nuzzling comfortably between your legs, he takes no time pull at the meat of your fluffy inner thighs, sucking from just above your knee to the junction of where your leg meets your pelvis. Your whole body feels like it’s overheating and your heart hammers in your chest, each hickey closer to your womanhood leaving more and more wet. But then he focuses on your other leg, lifting your knee and leaving another trail up that thigh, completely ignoring how needy you were.

“K-Kook!” you plea, your hands grasping at the ones clawing your hips, begging them silently. “Please.”

Your hips are stuttering, moving out of their own accord in search of any kind of relief for the hellish crave staining your panties. Never one to deny you of anything your asked, Jungkook holds down your hips with sprawled hands putting pressure on your lower belly as he mouthed your pussy over the cotton fabric. You scream because it’s relieving and not enough at all. Even through the cloth, Jungkook finds your engorged clit and doesn’t hesitate to suck on it too, making you wail and arch your back off the ground, head falling back and eyes closing at the maddening feeling.

The bastard stays like that for a while, driving your absolute mad, giving you just enough to drive you to the edge and still not nearly enough to send your over. Your panties are absolutely drenched in a mix of your juices and his saliva, and you try to close your legs around his head in hopes to keep him there long enough for you to reach any kind of satisfaction, but being the strong man that he was, Jungkook easily parts your legs away and crawls back up your body, sculptural face hoovering mere inches from yours.

You open your eyes to see his full black ones, veiled with unmasked desire and lust, puffy cheeks red and lips swollen from all of their work on you. Fuck, he looked so heavenly like this.

“Now they’ll know, if they dare come this near to you. That you are already taken. That you are mine to hold and kiss and fuck. Right?”

You are not sure how he manages, but he sounds both possessive and insecure at the same time, obviously determined to let anyone know you were his but still uncertain enough to always ask for your confirmation. Smiling, you take his face in your hands and pull him in for a much awaited kiss after your response.

“Absolutely right.”

You are the one who pulled him in, but he is the one desperate, frantic in the kiss, claiming your lips violently and deepening it so his tongue scans every small inch of your mouth, as if making sure it was just as he remembered. Locking your hands behind his neck, you respond in what you hope is a similar way, passing on all the love and comfort you could in this one long toe-curling kiss.

Amongst everything, you could not be sure when he did it, but as you latched your bulky legs around his lean waist and pulled him in, you find that he was already undressed from the waist down. His thick, throbbing member was pressed against the stained panties still left as a barrier.

Resting in one arm, holding him up, Jungkook’s free hand roams down your curvaceous body and fingers hook around the side of your underwear, at the same time he whispers a question in your ear with a hoarse voice.

“Pill?”

“All good” you eagerly reply, letting him know you had been careful and it should be okay.

Panties bunched up around your left ankle, Jungkook rubs his cock between your folds in a few strokes, working you both up and coating himself. But you were already so worked up and sexually frustrated that you clawed at his magnificent muscular ass and pulled him closer, at the same time your hips thrusted upwards into him. Failing to get him where you wanted, you growl.

“Now, Jungkook! I need you now!” you exclaim.

“Yeah, I want to hear you scream my name, baby. My name only” he encourages in a pleased tone.

Suddenly, two hands grab your legs from the back of your knee and hoists them up until you are basically bent in half, thighs pressed against your breasts. One swift movement of his hips and Jungkook impales you with his dick, the first thrust strong and deep and succulent. You moan loudly from relief, your clenching walls finally clinging on to something, finally stretched in the most pleasant of ways. Even with the white noise settling in and your own whine still ringing in the air, you still hear the tale-end of Jungkook’s own groan, hands still holding your legs up and kneeling with his pelvis pressed against yours, back standing stiff and eyes closed, lips slightly parted. He was obviously needing this as much as you.

Doe eyes slit open to meet with yours and he bents down over you, reaching for your lips and kissing you at the same time he starts moving. You hold on to his shoulders, but the pace grows quicker and quicker until it’s borderline punishing and you scream out at how good it feels, the way his cock drags at that fast pace against your inner walls, the tip kissing the end of that carnal tunnel and hitting that deep spot that makes you see stars behind your eyes. You let go of his lips in favor of screaming his name next to his ear and he continues the inhumane pace.

“That’s it. Scream my name. Scream it” he cheers on, his own voice stuttering at the focus to keep himself in check. “Scream it loud as you cum around me, love.”

The pressure deep in your womb was building rapidly with each rapid ramming. Jungkook was sweating and flushed red from head to toe, breathing heavily and closing his eyes in search of self-control. He rests your legs on his shoulder as he uses his hands to ground himself and procced to pound his cock even deeper and quicker, that being all you needed due to the added stimulation of his navel against your clit with each motion, turning your body into and absolute explosion of pleasure.

“Ah, ahh… JUNGKOOK!”

The walls of your pussy clang to him in and sucked him in to hit your cervix over and over, intensifying the orgasm as he continued the movements until he himself couldn’t bare it no more and got off on your dripping cunt, eyes screwed shut and mouth parted as he whimpered breathily through it.

Body shuddering and still buried to the bream, Jungkook collapses against you and your legs fall off his shoulders. Trying to keep him in place, you cross your ankles around his waist and throw your arms around his shoulder, both trying to catch your breaths and proper connection to reality. As your body calmed down and temperature returned to normal, you already had the inkling your but would be suffering from a slight friction rash against the carpet. But you would just add it to the bruises Jungkook’s mouth had left and count it as totally worth it.

“Chuory” Jungkook babbles against your shoulder, the fabric of your t-shirt muffling his voice and making it hard to understand what he said.

“What’s that, Kook?”

He lifts his head and rests his upper weight on his forearms, bottom half still very much attached to yours. He looks more like himself now, sweet and kind instead of bitter and angry. In fact, he looked at you almost apologetic.

“I’m sorry I got so jealous. I don’t know what came over me.”

You smile and peck at his worried lips.

“No worries. I’m surprise you could even get jealous when it came to someone like me” you confess, in a humorous tone.

“You are incredibly attractive, Y/N. I saw how that guy was looking at you. And he was so built and strong and… I got scared you would be taken away from me.”

You immediately shake your hand, reaching out for the young boy’s face that was filled with apprehension and anxiety. Holding his face, you make him look at you seriously.

“Never. I would never, Jungkook. I love you. I don’t care if the universe flips and suddenly all the men on this earth suddenly want me, I will always, always love you. Just you.”

He releases a heavy sight and you can almost feel the relief washing over him, the weight that as lifted his shoulders. At last, he smiles brightly and it reaches is eyes in the cutest of ways and you heart sings in response.

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful tone.

“Really. Now, mister, because of this silly fit, I ended my workout too early. It’s your responsibility” you warn him, wandering if he would get it.

“Hum? Do you want to go back? I can help you if- Ahh…!” The way he started made you sure he was not getting what you were hinting at so, to enlighten him, you clench your walls around his flaccid member that hardens in immediate response. Jungkook almost chokes.

“I was thinking more of a home workout.”

“M-my… My pleasure” he readily assures.

[amphibious-entity]

TMBS Book 1 Brain Dump

~An Embarrassingly Long Post~

I don’t know why I’m writing this or why I’m so determined to do it. Maybe to finally assume my true form and become a mega dork on main, or maybe just for fun!

This is basically a compilation of all the main points running through my head after reading The Mysterious Benedict Society (2007) for the first time. Rather than posting a ton and spamming the tag, everything’s here in one neat package! (hopefully this gets it all out of my system rip)

Contents:

The Book Itself

The Book Itself, for real this time

The Characters

A Funny Parallel

The S.Q. Section

Lines & Scenes I Liked

Spoilers abound!

The Book Itself

Upon acquiring the first three books (don’t judge me pls), I was surprised at just how long they are. Like, they’re still pretty light being paperbacks and all, but these books are hefty lads.

The first book has this Disney+ Original Series circle thing printed on it, which is kind of unfortunate. Regardless, I love the cover illustration and yellow is actually my favorite color :D It made me weirdly quite happy whenever I saw the book lying around in my room

Also, it’s really cute how there’s a letter from Mr. Benedict at the end! (It only reveals that you can find out his first name if you “know the code”, meaning the bit of Morse printed below the summary on the back.) Shock and horror, though, as I realized I’m starting to recognize some of the letters

The Book Itself, for real this time

It’s wonderful how the tone of the book really shone through to the show adaptation. Something about the deliberateness of the aesthetic, from the set designs to the fashion to scene compositions, that really sells that particular style— like it’s very clear that this story is being told to us, rather than one we’re seeing unfold, if that makes sense.

Where that narration style stood out to me the most was the first chapter. We are told (rather than shown) how Reynie gets himself to the point of the second test, and there’s this whole twisty time maneuver for that whole sequence of events that’s really interesting

A super secret fun fact about me is that I wanted to be a writer when I was younger! So this particular balance of show vs. tell is really neat, since it runs counter to my own tendencies. The sheer amount of commas in every sentence is also kind of comforting, since Ahah, I Do That in those few serious-ish attempts at writing lol

Overall this book’s style reminds me a lot of Roald Dahl’s books, which are very nostalgic for me :D The whole “kids are more competent than adults” angle helps a lot too haha

The Characters

Oh boy here’s where I get a little bit critical! Overall I did really like this book!! it’s just that that expresses itself in all this weird “”analysis”” lol

Reynie - much better in the books than in the show

It’s sort of a lukewarm take but I feel like show!Reynie is kind of boring? He doesn’t have a lot going on flaw-wise, and obviously since he’s the protagonist he can’t have too many weird traits or else the kids watching can’t project themselves onto him as easily

(I call it the difference between an aspirational protagonist and a vessel protagonist. Going off of the Roald Dahl vibes, think Matilda vs Charlie. show!Reynie is more of a Charlie)

Thus when we get to see him really struggle with the Whisperer and doubt himself it gives him a lot more dimension, at least in my opinion

It is a federal crime that the white knight scenes were not adapted into the show

Sticky - my son

I’ve long held to no one besides myself and my long suffering sister that Sticky is The Best Member of the Society

He happened to hit a lot of the Bingo squares of Stuff I Like In Characters: glasses, anxious, nice :), kind of a coward but ultimately is there for his friends, etc

For some reason I don’t talk about him nearly as much as you-know-who, but I love him just as dearly

Kate & Constance - I don’t have much to say

Kate is really interesting in this book! I like how we get to see more of her depths, in particular that one passage about her belief that she is invincible being the only thing that keeps her from falling apart? :c

Also her constant fidgeting is relatable lol

Constance is somehow a lot more tolerable in the book. I think I’m just one of those people with no patience for small children, unfortunately lol

(Some of) The Adults

It’s interesting that they had such an offscreen presence for most of the book. Giving them more time was probably one of the stronger changes of the show

However if that decision was made at the expense of the white knight scenes I think the choice should have been clear

I like the way Rhonda and Number Two are written

Milligan always on sad boy hours 😔✊

The “mill again” passage is touching but kind of messes up the pacing of the getaway, at least for me. Maybe I should read it again to make sure I didn’t miss something

Miss Perumal is much better in the show. We see so little of her in the book she doesn’t function well as an emotional anchor for Reynie, imo

The Institute Gang

Jackson and Jillson serve their purpose well, and Martina was surprising to say the least. I like the direction they took her in the show! I can’t imagine how funny it must have been to watch the tetherball subplot come out of nowhere lolol

These sections were written out of sequence, so random tidbit I couldn’t fit in The S.Q. Section: I like how he stumbles over his words. relatable

Mr. Curtain

While I think I know why they decided to not give Curtain the wheelchair in the show, we were totally robbed of Actor Tony Hale’s performance for the reveal during the final confrontation

Speaking of the wheelchair, it’s such a powerful symbol of his need for control or rather, his fear of losing it

The Contrast between him and Mr. Benedict. This point is expanded on in A Funny Parallel

Mr. Benedict

Oh boy, Mr. Benedict… How do I say this

I find it hard to trust Mr. Benedict, unfortunately

I mean to say, I do in the sense that I know he would never hurt the kids, thanks to knowing that a) this is a children’s book series and b) the meta (tumblr) states that he is really nice and lovable and stuff, but seriously. Why do the kids trust him at first?? I probably missed something somewhere

I like to think I’m an optimistic person, but unfortunately I’m also super paranoid. The premise of “a bunch of vulnerable orphans team up with a strange old man” is just so odd to me I don’t know how to explain it

I don’t know!!! I really want to trust Mr. Benedict

One of the strengths of the show is that we get to see him more often, and thus he gets to acknowledge more often that the plan is weird and that he feels really badly for putting the kids in danger and that he’s trustworthy and genuine

But his lack of presence for most of the book just makes him into something of a specter, invisible and unknowable, speaking only in riddles from across the bay

Which is why the white knight scene is so important!! I loved that scene ;-;

Because here’s an actual emotional connection! We can actually see it happening, rather than only being told that it exists

Reynie asking for advice and receiving encouragement, in words that demonstrate that Mr. Benedict actually cares about him and worries about him and agghh

It is a federal crime that the white knight scenes were not adapted into the show

But overall this whole issue didn’t ruin my enjoyment of the book at all! It’s just ->

A Funny Parallel

Okay, ready for my biggest brain, hottest take ever??

Mr. Benedict and Mr. Curtain…. are… the same

I mean obviously not entirely, given that one is benevolent and kind and the other is… Mr. Curtain

But seriously. Genius old man seeks out children (mainly orphans) to enact a plan. Said children often end up incredibly devoted to his cause and deeply admire him this is a little flimsy

Undoubtedly that’s intentional and is supposed to show the difference between them, like some kind of cautionary tale? “Let yourself be vulnerable and let others help you, lest you turn eeeeviiillll”

I guess that’s where the aforementioned epic contrast comes in. You get Mr. Curtain, strapped into his wheelchair and hiding behind those mirrored sunglasses, terrified (but unwilling to admit it) of ever showing the tiniest hint of vulnerability, vs. Mr. Benedict, who can let himself fall knowing that someone will catch him :’)

Anyhow I have nothing against the parallels, I just think it’s funny

The S.Q. Section

The S.Q. Quarantine Thread so it doesn’t leak out everywhere else <3

I’d like to meet the emo angstlord genius who read this book and decided to make SQ into Dr. Curtain’s son. What in the world

Okay I should probably preface this by saying that I absolutely adore both book!S.Q. and show!SQ with all my heart. Somehow, despite being a completely different character in both mediums, he has managed to be one of the best characters in either and certainly one of my favorites (besides Sticky of course) in the entire franchise, despite the fact that I’ve only read the first book/watched the show so far. I am confident in this statement.

But seriously! How?? Why?? I could probably write a whole other essay about why show!SQ is such an interesting character, and the change works so incredibly well. I’m just. Baffled

Okay, focus. book!S.Q. is such a sweetheart, oh my goodness. Like, 100% one of the most endearing characters in the book. Poor guy. I don’t even know where to start!!

He just seems to be a genuinely good guy at heart, despite being technically one of the bad guys. He’s genuinely happy for Reynie and Sticky when they became Messengers and helped Kate when she “fell” and was concerned about Constance when she looked sick and how he was in that meeting with Mr. Curtain and Martina?!!? aaahhhhghgh ;-; he just wants people to be happy TT-TT

Comparing him against literally every character at the Institute is probably what makes him so endearing tbh. When everyone else is so awful to the kids, it really makes him stand out. Like a cheerful little nightlight in the worst, most humid and rank bathroom you’ve ever been in

It’s kind of pointless to theorize about a book series that’s already concluded (I think?) but. Is the implication of S.Q.’s forgetfulness supposed to be that Mr. Curtain used him in brainsweeping experiments somehow? The timeline probably definitely absolutely doesn’t line up but like. How did he get to being a Messenger being the way he is now, given how cutthroat the process is? And then of course Mr. Curtain keeps him around as an Executive because he’s fun to mess with and presumably his loyalty. I’m very curious as to how their relationship develops in the other books, if at all. Those are probably where the seeds of the “let’s make them family” logic were planted

But wouldn’t it be hilarious if the reason we don’t know what “S.Q.” stands for in the books is that he just. Forgot

Another thing that occurred to me. Given that he and the other Executives were Messengers at some point, what were their worst fears? What is S.Q.’s worst fear?? Inquiring minds need to know

One last horrible little anecdote: I was thinking about book!S.Q. while eating breakfast, as one does, and suddenly it hit me.

I want to believe The Author Trenton Lee Stewart had the name for a character, S.Q. Pedalian, and was like, “Hm! What sort of quirky trait should this young fellow have?” Because, of course, in this style of fiction every character has to have at least one cartoonish or otherwise distinguishing trait to stand out in the minds of children. (For instance, Kate has her bucket, Sticky has his glasses, Constance is angry, and Reynie is Emmett from the Lego Movie)

Anyhow, he looks around the room, searching for inspiration. Suddenly he comes across a jumbo box of plastic wrap. Completely innocuous in design, save for one line of text. 300 SQ FT.

“…large… S.Q. …feet? THAT’S IT!” i’m sorry

Lines & Scenes I Liked

In no particular order!

Sticky quotes Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Evil combination aerobics/square dancing in the gym with the Executives

Everyone being happy at the end :’)

Everyone partying after Sticky reunites with his parents, and later finding Mr. Benedict asleep at his desk from the moment they shook hands :’’)

Literally any scene with Sticky in it

Any time Kate says “you boys” or “gosh”

[“Um, sir?” S.Q. said timidly, raising his hand. “A thought just occurred to me.” / Mr. Curtain raised his eyebrows. “That’s remarkable, S.Q. What is it?”] clown prince of my heart </3

S.Q.’s determined monologue about searching for clues after he bungled up the first time

Literally any scene with S.Q. in it (please refer to The S.Q. Section)

Reynie trying to resist the Whisperer.

[Let us begin. / First let me polish my spectacles, Reynie thought. / Let us begin. / Not without my bucket, Reynie insisted. He heard Mr. Curtain muttering behind him. / Let us begin, let us begin, let us begin. / Rules and schools are tools for fools, Reynie thought.]

NO MORE HURTIN’ WITH CURTAIN

Milligan showing up on the island!!

Remember the white knight hhhhhh

“controle”

A Super Secret Bonus Section

I would be extremely surprised if anyone read through all the way down here lol. Regardless, here’s a little acknowledgements section :D not tagging anyone since I don’t want to bother all of these people

Special shoutout to tumblr blog stonetowns for unknowingly yet singlehandedly demolishing my reluctance to read the books by posting a ton of cute quotes. Thank you for your service o7

Thanks to the two OGs that liked the post I made right before this one, for being my unwitting enablers and for sticking around despite being a) technically an internet stranger (hello!) and b) someone I haven’t spoken to irl in literal years (hey!!)

Last but not least thankz 2 my sister for putting up with me ranting about the book when I first got it and for asking about “CQ” sometimes lol. (i desperately hope you’re not reading this orz)

[magnhild]

the misconceptions and mis-framing of penny’s death

i hesitated to make this post here for a good while; partially because i didn’t want to right when people’s emotions were heightened from the finale, partially because i’m sure some people are going to argue with me here and i’m not looking for a debate- if you don’t agree, please just scroll past.

i’ve made a large number of posts of penny’s death on twitter before, but some were based on my own heightened emotions, and they were all scattered over the course of a couple of weeks, so i’m making this psot to kind of gather all of those thoughts together, the most important ones, at least.

a quick disclaimer before we start- don’t mistake this as all being ‘oh you must just not really care that much about penny’. it couldn’t be more untrue. penny is a comfort character of mine, and a kin to boot. her second death was also the only in the show to really impact me, seeing as i watched v1-3 within a couple of days and didn’t give myself enough time to get attatched to any characters (and i just didn’t personally care for clover all that much). so, please don’t assuming this is coming from a place of not caring- it’s coming from the opposite.

i’ve tried my very hardest to look at what people are saying when they call her death inherintly bad writing, and honestly, i can easily see the validity to some of their points. there were a lot of flaws in the scene. 

it felt very rushed and blown-over, but then again, the entire episode did, and i have to wonder if it was done on purpose to emulate the chaos of war- you usually don’t get time to process anything. i mean, in rwby’s case, cinder was winning a fight, half of the characters that would’ve moured her were in the void, and the other half was in another kingdom. that left jaune, who had to focus on fighting cinder. it’s the same as when ruby wasn’t given time to mourn yang.

it also was weird to kill her off two episodes and probably only, like, 10-15 in-show minutes, after she’d been saved from death by gaining a human body. i think it would’ve happened anyway, given the many death flags she had, but i’d have expected- and liked- for them to wait a little longer. it would’ve been nice to see her adjust to having a human body, that’s for sure.

and i can fully agree that framing suicide as a good thing is not...a good thing. but, that brings me to the first point when i say ‘misconception’. because, penny’s dead wasn’t suicide at all. and i have no idea why people would frame it that way it the first place.

first of all, if we’re going to start labelling sacrifices as suicides, we’re going to have to say the same about pyrrha, vernal, and probably yang even though she didn’t actually die (but she thought she would). but being killed in a battle while protecting people...is sacrifice. penny asking jaune to kill her quicker, so that she could make sure the powers went to winter, was sacrifice. it also meant that she didn’t have to die slowly and painfully instead. penny was not suicidal. she has never been suicidal. to be suicidal is to want to die. penny never wanted to die- she only ever believed that it was her only choice to save the people she cared about and the city she was assigned to protect. in penny’s situation, i imagine you’d have a hard time finding another way out of all the siuations she’s been in too. it honestly feels like people are only calling it suicide instead of sacrifice to frame the scene as worse than it was, and that rubs me the wrong way.

and now you’re probably wondering, ‘but blaire, if she’d let jaune save her, she wouldn’t have died’. except that everyone who thinks that is missing one critical factor- she would have died anyway.

cinder’s blow was a killing one. from the moment she struck, she was already starting to steal the maiden’s power. a little longer, and she probably would have. but the one thing a lot of people seem to miss is that, even though jaune was there, he would not have been able to save her. firstly, his aura would have been extremely low at that point, considering we see it shatter in this episode; he probably would not have had enough to fill another person. he maybe could’ve sealed the wound a little before his aura would have broken, and then cinder would’ve just kept going with no problem.

but, even if he somehow had been able to- his aura recharges pretty quickly, after all- another critical factor is that there literally wasn’t time. penny said so herself. as i mentioned earlier, cinder was winning the fight agaisnt weiss. and we’ve seen how long it takes for jaune to heal someone. with weiss, he was lucky; there were several other people there to protect him and weiss while he did his work. with penny, there was only weiss. the moment cinder saw jaune healing her, that would’ve been it. with both of them defenselss, she probably would have killed jaune on the spot, given that weiss never would have been able to stop her on her own, and continued to take penny’s power. jaune or not, penny would have died. because penny didn’t kill herself, jaune didn’t kill her, cinder killed her. this was a murder.

bu then, what was all that about penny finally making her own choice? was it not to die?

no. of course it wasn’t. how i ever believed that myself at one point baffles me, because the more i look back, the more it’s very obvious that it wasn’t the case. it’s almost funny, actually, because my current self would’ve called myself from two weeks ago stupid for believeing such a thing. 

as i mentioned, penny has never wanted to die. and, in this case, it wasn’t even that she felt she had to for the greator good; she was dying anyway. her choice had nothing to do with death. her choice was who to pass the winter maiden’s power onto. because, if jaune hadn’t used his sword and severe’d cinder’s connection, the power very likely would have gone to cinder instead. she’d have the relics and both the fall and winter powers, and she’d have been near-unstoppable otherwise. 

even the wiki editors somehow saw this more clearly than i did, but like i said, it’s actually pretty obvious. once you get the weird idea that penny was suicidal out of your head, it’s clear to see that the choice she was talking about was to choose winter. and it’s a damn good thing she did, because winter probably would have died otherwise, and the evacuees would’ve been left defensless agaisnt the grimm- penny wouldn’t have been able to save them, as we’ve established.

the last thing that everyone should consider is that we literally have no idea what could happen next. it’s hard to write this off as anything when we don’t know what effect it will have on the story and characters, or- though it’s a stretch- if penny will even stay dead. she is, after all, based off a character who dies and is ressurected on a frequent basis. it was the same case with pyrrha and clover’s deaths; both were dismissed as bad writing based purely on assumptions, only for the auidence to find out later that both deaths actually served pretty reasonable purposes; pyrrhas’s to set the stakes and give all of the character’s a reason to keep fighting, and clover’s to demonstrate how loyal-to-a-fault the aceops were, and that ironwood had no problem sacrificing his own men.

in the end, to call this a good writing choice is probably a stretch. but, it wasn’t a bad one either. there were just too many factors that weren’t considered, or were misunderstood, and the aformentioned rushed feeling of the episode probably did not help with picking all this out. these are realizations it took me days and even weeks to come to. what’s instead important is to look at the situation from as many different angles as possible, and to keep in mind that we can’t really say anything for certain about the consequences of the event. nuance is important! espeiclaly in media critisism!

i genuinely hoped this has opened people’s eyes, even if they already didn’t consider it bad writing. seeing crwby, and this show, undermined so drastically, has been pretty hard for me to see, especially when some people are using it to call crwby morally wrong. i’ve even seen people say it was transphobic, because penny was trans-coded, while totally dismissing may, a canonically trans character. and i know that crwby are getting death threats again, which is bitterly disappointing and enraging. stop. and stop enabling this behaviour. 

also, if you’ve read over all of this and still don’t personally like the decision, that’s fine and understandable. i can easily see why people still wouldn’t. but i think it’s important to remember that not liking a writing deicsion doesn’t necceserily make it a bad one. kind of like how me not liking any of star wars doesn’t make it a bad franchise.

thanks for reading, and please remember to just...be nice. and if you’re still mourning penny’s death, which is understandable, remember to look after your mental health! she would want you to!

[hazeltiberiuslee]

Is My Life of Value? (Noelle & Zhongli Fanfic)

Noelle paused as she reached out for the cup of water on the counter. Dejected at the thoughts consuming her mind, she gripped the air tightly before lowering her hand.

As she glimpsed at the waters reflection, she saw her distraught expression looking back at her.

This was her eighth time taking the exam to become a knight of Favonius, and again, she had failed it. This time, Jean had come up to her to explain why she had failed.

“Though you have all the traits of a wonderful knight Noelle, you are a tad too reckless when it comes to yourself. A knight must treasure themselves, and value their own lives while aiding others. I wish for you to take this time to truly think about the value of your life, and not just everyone else’s. You’re special too, I only wish you could see that.” Jean said.

Noelle held her head as she kept thinking about it. Was she really that reckless? She only wished to give her all when it came to her aspirations. She didn’t think that was a bad thing.

But that had been exactly what kept her back from becoming a knight.

She sighed before heading outside of the shed to gaze at the sunset dipping lower into Teyvat. Gripping both her hands anxiously, she desperately looked around in vain to see if there was anyone in need of her help. Straining her ears, she tried to hear any horses footsteps, or a cry for help that she can assist with. But no one uttered her name, only the sounds of snoring from a boar who laid near a tree.

Shoulders drooping, she sighed deeply and decided that maybe she needed a walk to clear her head.

As the light from the sun diminished, the stars took its place to guide Noelle in her walk. Dandelions wavered in the air with its luminous blue glow, and Noelle finally stopped at the end of a giant cliff.

“Acting grand master Jean had told me to take some time off to rest and figure things out. I should do as she says since it is her order, however…” Breathing in another heavy sigh, Noelle sat down at the edge and let the wind rustle gently past her cheeks.

Her perfect posture made her sit upright, hands automatically folding itself on top of each other, neatly resting above her lap. The breathtaking view of Mondstadt filled her eyes as her mind wandered.

Did anyone call her name in hopes that she would arrive? Did someone feel an ache of disappointment, as she did, that she was no longer available to help them in their moment of need?

“…It is…quite lonely when I’m not doing my duties within Mondstadt.” she whispered.

She missed the feeling of being needed. Being wanted.

“Am I naive in thinking that chasing after your dreams without stopping is the right way to go?” She wondered out loud.

Keep your eyes on your goal and never stop working to get it. If you slack off, you’re being lazy. Never stop racing towards your dreams. Those had been the messages that came through while growing up as a child.

Is it possible those messages have been always wrong? She thought.

“Sigh…”

Closing her eyes, Noelle let herself go and flopped to the ground. The grass tickled the sides of her face as she listening to the rustling of the trees. All of it had somehow started to calm her raging thoughts.

It had been years since she rested like this. The only time she had done so was before her dreams ignited within her chest, as a child to be a knight. Ever since then, she had read hundreds of books about knights and their moral code.

Every time she read about them, the words had fanned the flames of her passion higher than it did before.

As her consciousness started fading, she felt a tug deep within her guiding her to another direction.

Looking around the dream, Noelle heard a sigh, and a slight whisper. She didn’t understand the context of the words, though the voice sounded oddly familiar.

“That old blockhead sure likes to put me to work even though there’s no wine to be exchanged for it.” It muttered.

‘Huh?’ Noelle voiced.

“Ah well, it’s not much work anyway. Well then, have a good talk Noelle! And next time, drink some wine with your friends! Wouldn’t want you to end up the same as that workaholic.” It sang, before a flash of light appeared and faded.

Out of habit Noelle shielded her eyes and blinked rapidly, only to find her breath escaping her.

‘Wow.’ She exclaimed.

All around her she saw pools of water and a low, wide tree centered on the small patch of land that she was standing on top of. Near her, a stone table stood with ceramic cups filled with herbal tea.

“Come child.” A voice called out.

Gasping in surprise, she snapped her head to look at the source of the voice and saw a tall gentleman with long brown hair and amber eyes. He gave a small smile and gestured her to sit.

For some reason, she found herself easily doing so.

In normal instances, she would have refused and instead asked if he required assistance before serving up some snacks.

He chuckled as if he knew what was going through her mind.

“I heard that the exam didn’t go quite as you wished.” he stated.

A pout began to form as Noelle’s lips puckered out. ‘It didn’t go well at all! Though I got everything right.’ She slumped in her seat.

‘From the physical aspects to the written parts, I’m sure I aced everything! But… I failed because master Jean said I didn’t care for my life well enough. But isn’t knights supposed to be able to put their lives on the line anyway to serve?’ She moped, hanging her head low.

A part of her was dumbfounded that she was suddenly acting like this but she couldn’t stop revealing her true feelings to the stranger. It was quite baffling.

The stranger didn’t seem to mind though as he smiled and gave a hearty chuckle.

“You have a strong sense of duty and loyalty to Mondstadt. That is what I quite liked about you, which is why I gifted you your vision.” he said nonchalantly. Bringing the cup close to his lips, he breathed in the scent of hot green tea.

Under normal circumstances, Noelle would have opened her eyes wide in shock at the revelation that the person in front of her was the Geo Archon. But whether it was the fact that they were meeting in a dream or not, she remained calm, accepting the situation easily.

Picking up her own cup, she followed Morax and breathed in the tea before drinking it. The warm taste of green tea penetrated her being and strangely put her in a calmer mood despite her misgivings.

While staring at the tea’s reflection, she found that the knots holding her complicated emotions tightly in a knot were slowly unwinding itself.

‘I don’t understand… Why is my life important if others may benefit from my actions, especially if Mondstadt finds itself in dire need of my assistance? As long as I am okay with it, is it not fine to continue the way it is?’ She pondered.

There was a moment of silence as Morax stirred his cup. He closed his eyes before lifting his arm. The air behind him shimmered before revealing the knights of Favonius headquarters.

In there, Jean and Kaeya were in a hushed discussion with each other. Jean’s face was furrowed with concern while Kaeya had his arms crossed but tried his best to comfort the acting grand master.

“She’s going to be fine Jean. The doctor said she will live, and that Noelle didn’t suffer from frostbite. Just need a few days rest and she’ll be back up ready to take on the world as always.” Kaeya reassured. He flashed her a charming smile but a corner of it twitched.

That didn’t escape Jean’s eyes and she just sighed with worry. She didn’t want to be acting like this but she had no one else to express her concerns to.

“She took on a reckless mission all by herself. What made her think that it was okay to do this without telling us?! Noelle barely had enough water and food as she went up into the mountains, and continued on even though her armor iced over after discovering the missing man.” She sighed.

Rubbing her face with both hands, Jean felt the stress building back up at the memory of Noelle nearly collapsing in front of Mondstadt gates. Jean had been making her rounds with Lisa when a guard yelled out in shock. Everyone had turned around to look expecting an attack, but found Noelle in the distance pushing herself to carry the man back through Mondstadt walls.

Everyone had ran to help her but it was as if Noelle couldn’t see them. Her eyes hazy and breathing haggard, she kept muttering that she’ll make sure that they both arrive home safe. For the man to hold on for his family. That it will be warm soon. She kept repeating those lines over and over, and those around her found it hard to make Noelle let go of the man on her back.

Kaeya suddenly stepped in and grasped Noelle by the shoulders before leaning in. “Welcome back. You did well Noelle, thank you for your services. Because of you, both you and Nimrod will live to see another day. Now let go of him, we will take care of the rest.” he said.

Transfixed on the voice speaking to her, Noelle lost grip of Nimrod and like a puppet with their strings cut, collapsed into his arms.

Jean felt thankful for Kaeya though she wondered how he knew that’d work.

The scene changed, and an image of Noelle unconscious on a patient bed appeared. Klee was looking concerned at how red Noelle was. Though red was her favorite color, she didn’t like it on Noelle like this.

Rummaging through her bag, Klee happily brought out a slightly crisp fish. She placed it on a plate that she brought out separately and left it on a counter before sitting up on the hospital chair.

“You need to get better so that we can go get some more fish together okay? Don’t tell master Jean, but I have the perfect spot to go to so that we can get a fresh meal! Fish is the just the best!” Klee exclaimed loudly.

There was no response from Noelle as Klee nestled her head onto the bed next to Noelle’s hand. Klee gently grasped the unconscious maid’s hand as she closed her eyes.

“Wake up soon so that we can together. I’ll even stay inside just for you, so that we can go together later. So please, wake up soon.” Klee whispered.

And with that the images from the past ended. Noelle stared stunned in silence. The Geo Archon had brought up a past incident and the reminder that she had worried people stung her conscience.

“You wish to charge in without rest and regard to your own life. As heroic as that may sound, it is not the way a knight should live.”

Morax set down his cup and looked into Noelle’s wavering eyes.

“Were it any of them marching through the dangerous winters of Dragonspine, would you also not fret for their lives?” he questioned. Noelle’s face flushed with guilt as she started understanding.

“Though there will always be situations where one puts their lives at risk for the safety of others, it is not ideal to completely disregard it.”

Bringing the cup to his lips once again, Morax sipped on the remainder of the tea.

“A knight is a citizen of their country. And what good country would want to needlessly throw away the lives of their citizens?”

Refilling his cup, Morax watched as Noelle looked down once again. A kind smile formed on his face.

“It is good to have the spirit of a knight, however, do not forget that you are a individual. Your life isn’t just yours once you build connections as well. There will be those that grieve for you, and those who will happily share their moments in life with you.”

He got up and stopped in front of Noelle. Reaching out, Morax patted her head tenderly like a father would with their daughter.

“Do take care to enjoy those moments yourself, and to share your times of suffering as well. Enjoy life, and you will shine like gold in the memories of both yourself and others.”

Closing his eyes he gave one last smile. “Now awaken and go home.”

Authors note:

Please like and subscribe! This is from my archiveofourown account as well https://archiveofourown.org/works/34323085

You can find more fanfics on my archive account as well, under HazelTiberiusLee. Have a nice one! <3

[snackhobi]

pairing: jimin x reader / word count: 8.8k / genre: smut, established relationship, driftracer!au

summary: Jimin’s been pretty busy recently and you’re starting to feel neglected. Guess you’ll just have to make him pay attention somehow.

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), unsafe driving (back at it with the street racing), cursing, mild degradation, fingering, spanking, unprotected sex (it goes without saying but please use protection guys), creampie, controlled orgasm (delay), multiple orgasms (f receiving), dirty talk, pet names

THIS IS A FOLLOW UP TO ‘CATCH YOUR DRIFT’— please read the original first

a/n: to everyone who was asking about a cyd follow-up—here it is! it’s basically a pwp with the flimsiest of plots lmao. enjoy!! x

--

“Jimin's up to something.”

“Huh?” Jungkook looks away from where he’s been fiddling with something in the Pontiac’s engine. “What?”

“Jimin,” you repeat, slowly. “He’s up to something.”

Park Jimin. Breathtaking, captivating, gorgeous Park Jimin—unstoppable in his sleek black Nissan Skyline GTR, a master in his element, relentless, incredible. Your rival and main competitor on the track. The one person who challenges you, who you measure yourself against, who you always strive to beat.

Park Jimin. Your boyfriend.

“He’s been… weird lately,” you say, uncharacteristically hesitant. 

Jungkook looks a little baffled but also concerned, eyes darting over in the same direction as yours. Jimin’s already kissed you good luck, a soft, lingering touch of his lips against yours before returning to his own car, and you’ve been watching him get ready for tonight’s race. He lounges against his black Skyline and laughs at something that Yoongi and Taehyung are talking about, looking every inch the king that he is.

Jimin is as striking and dazzling as always, jacket covered in jewels that burst outwards like fireworks, the cut of his metallic shirt low enough to reveal his collarbones and smooth skin of his chest. The only understated part of his outfit is the pair of unadorned silver hoops in his ears, simple and elegant. A gift from you that he wears every time you race.

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise a little. “What do you mean he’s up to something?” 

Honestly, being with Jimin is a dream. At first you’d been concerned that your competitive natures would clash and that being opponents on the drifting circuit would cause friction in your relationship—but it actually works out really well. Jimin makes you strive to be a better person, the best you can be, both on and off the track. You’re both as invested in giving each as much attention as you do to winning races, and the truth is that a lot of the fierceness you show on the track melts away entirely when you’re alone together: it just highlights how multifaceted and incredible Jimin is.

He’s a ruthless competitor. He’s also sweet and caring and kind and he always makes time for you. 

Or at least, he normally does.

“He keeps saying he’s busy, and he seems to be distracted when we’re together,” you admit to Jungkook in a low hush. There’s no one within hearing distance of your Pontiac but you’re still cautious. Your relationship with Jimin is well known throughout the circuit now and you don’t want people overhearing intimate details about it. It’s none of their business. “I don’t know, Kookie, it’s… it’s concerning. I guess.”

You’re usually self-assured and confident but right now you sound unsure. Jungkook’s known you for years and years and is one of your closest friends, but even so, admitting this to him is difficult—and he knows it. 

Jungkook pulls the hood of your car down, shutting it with firm hands before he leans across the metal towards you. “Have you tried asking him about it?” 

“Of course.”

“What did he say?”

“We, uh, got distracted,” you say, and Jungkook makes a face at the implication.

“Maybe next time you’re trying to have a serious conversation you shouldn’t let yourself get ‘distracted’?” He raises his eyebrows as he lifts his hands to make air quotations at you and you pout.

“But his ass is just so perfect, can you blame me?”

“Okay, that’s it, I’m out,” Jungkook says while looking pained, and you can’t help but laugh.

Later, though, when you beat Jimin in the race, he lavishes attention on you like he always does—you’d barely inched out ahead of him tonight and so he takes his time when he works you up, touch light and teasing as he runs his hands over you. Your head tilts forward as you pant, bent over the hood of his car as he fingers you open, deep and slow. Just the way you like it, even if you’re hungry for more.

“Jimin, please.” Your voice is desperate as you beg and try to rock against his fingers, get him to move faster. “I need you inside me, god—”

Your words choke off when you feel a sharp smack against the bared skin of your ass, a small punishment for your impatience. You let out a gasp that turns into a quiet moan, turning to hide your face in your elbow to try and stifle the noise as Jimin’s hands immediately soothe over the touch, soft as he rubs over your heated skin.

“Patience, baby.” His voice is low. “You’ll get my cock when you’re nice and ready. Okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur, a little breathless. “I just want you so bad.”

You’re still turned away from him but you can hear the affection in Jimin’s answer as he leans forward to kiss the sensitive skin just behind your ear. “I know, sweet thing.”

Once he finally sinks his cock into you, it doesn’t take long for him to pull you over the edge, your nails scraping against the warm metal of his car as your body goes tense and you cum. Jimin follows soon after, spilling himself inside you as you shiver and clench around him, trying to draw him in as deep as possible; no matter how many times he fucks you open it never gets old, the way you can feel his body move against yours, the way he gasps and moans as he reaches his own edge, the way he holds you close as you both go lax against each other, warm and tender.

“Are you free on Saturday?” You’re perched on the hood of his Nissan afterwards, arms curled around his neck as you pull away to look up at him. “I thought you might want to come over for dinner and a film? You can choose which one we watch, I’m not picky.”

A quick expression flits across Jimin’s face, faster than you can identify, before it turns apologetic. “Sorry, baby. I’m busy this Saturday. How about next week?”

“Oh,” you say. “Okay. Um. Do you want to… grab a quick lunch instead? Or something? When you’re free?”

Jimin turns his face into your hair, nuzzling into your scalp before he kisses the crown of your head. “I think I’ll be busy all weekend, but I’ll let you know, okay?”

You pause and try to hide the surprising amount of pain and confusion that shoots through you at his subtle dismissal, schooling your features before Jimin pulls away to look at you. “Okay baby,” you say brightly. “I hope you have a good weekend, either way.”

Jimin cups your face gently as he smiles at you, all warmth and open affection before he dips down to softly kiss you on the lips. “I will.”

--

If you didn’t trust Jimin so much you’d think he was cheating on you.

You know that Jimin has his own life outside of you and you’re okay with that. You honestly are. It’s not that you want to monopolise his time, but he’s usually so willing to give it to you without you even asking—so now that it seems like he’s pulling away, it’s all the more pronounced when it happens, and you can’t help but wonder why. You’re trying not to be pushy and you haven’t outright demanded Jimin tell you what he’s so busy with; it must be important if he’s prioritising it over you and keeping it a secret, right?

Right?

You’re not needy or overbearing or clingy, but you are a tad possessive, and you can’t help but feel jealous of whatever it is that’s catching Jimin’s attention so much.

“Uh.” Taehyung’s eyes are wide. “Y/n, uh… your bra is? Kind of? Showing a little bit?”

“I know Tae, but thank you.” You take one last glance at yourself in your wing mirror before straightening up, content with how you look tonight. “I can assure you it’s entirely intentional.”

You usually opt for feminine outfits when you race, but they’re never normally this revealing; it’s borderline scandalous, really. Your bra is visible through the lace mesh of your shirt and your skirt is hiked so high it barely covers your ass, pleats fluttering each time you move. The thing that’s covering you the most is actually your pink leather jacket, but even that’s not enough to hide you from any eyes that are roving over you.

But the real kicker—the part of the outfit that would let anyone with discerning eyes know that you’re aiming for aesthetic over practicality—are your shoes. Your over-the-knee suede boots have a killer heel and they have got to be the worst things to drive with, the heels making it hard to shift your feet when you need to slam them onto the pedals, but you don’t care.

“I still think you should try talking to Jimin instead of doing… this,” Jungkook says, waving an arm at you.

“You just gestured to all of me.” You raise a perfectly shaped eyebrow. Not that you don’t always look good, of course, but tonight you’ve pulled out all the stops and it shows.

“That’s my point,” Jungkook groans. “If I nearly catch sight of your butt cheeks one more time I’m going to call the police. I’m feeling distinctly harassed.”

“You should be grateful.” You blow him a kiss and Jungkook makes a face.

“I’m going to call 911.”

“We’re not in America, Kookie,” Taehyung says. Jungkook just sighs.

Seokjin’s organised the meet at a car park in Gangnam tonight, and you watch as the lot starts to fill up, tweaked Supras and Skylines and Fairlady Zs whose engines rumble as their drivers descend into the underground level, filling the basement with noise. There are unfamiliar faces you don’t recognise, rich residents of Seoul’s most expensive neighbourhood rolling out to show off their money by way of their beautiful cars. 

You know a lot of these people won’t be racing tonight and they’re just here for the novelty of it all. Good for them. You have other things on your mind.

(If Jimin isn’t going to give you time when you want it, then you’re not going to let him take it when he wants it.  He hasn’t turned up yet but you know the second he sees you he won’t be able to keep his eyes off you—but tonight you’re not going to let him have you.)

You’re perched on the hood of your flame-red Pontiac as you wait for everyone to finish turning up, pretending to be absorbed in checking your nails as you cross your legs; you don’t have to look up to know that people are staring at you and your shameless behaviour. 

They can watch. You’re not doing this for them.

You glance up at the sound of a deep rumble, almost a purr, and your eyes widen at the sight of the next car that rolls into view. It must be the only time you’ve ever been caught off guard by an unfamiliar vehicle and you don’t even have to pretend to be overawed, breathless as you take in the gorgeous sight. 

She’s low and sleek and magnificent, stark black cut through with a thick ribbon of blood red that rises over the car's bonnet and roof, matching the crimson wheel trims and strip of colour that trails over the edge of its spoiler. The LED headlights glow white and red, crimson halo rings shimmering through the pristine and unmarked glass. She’s all smooth lines and curved edges, every contour a graceful stroke that builds up into a masterpiece, heavenly and bewitching all at once.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe, and for the first time since you started racing, you approach someone’s car before you even know who they are.

The driver is a man you don’t recognise. He’s stepped out of the car and is leaning against it casually, arms crossed and head tilted as he surveys the other motors lined up nearby, running a hand through his dyed brown hair to push it away from his forehead. He’s tall and handsome with his defined cupid’s bow and hooded eyes, and he’d almost look sleepy if he wasn’t watching you so intently, noticing your approach and keeping his eyes on you as you step forwards.

“Oh my god. A Dodge Viper?” You can’t begin to imagine the exportation costs for this thing and how much it must have cost to get the parts to modify it, let alone maintain it. (But Gangnam is an incredibly wealthy area, after all, so you’re not too surprised.)

“You like it?” The Viper’s owner tilts his head at you, a small smirk playing at the edge of his lips. “I can take you for a drive later if you’d like, beautiful.”

“Trust me, if I was sitting in this car, I’d be behind the wheel,” you say. “I bet she drives like a dream. How did you get your hands on an SRT-10 ACR? In Seoul?”

His smirk grows wider. “Brought it with me from Chicago.” He shrugs carelessly, as if it can’t have cost him a small fortune. Like the money means nothing to him. Pocket change. Holy shit. “You wanna take that seat behind the wheel to see if it suits your fancy?”

It does. You run your hands over the leather seats and tilted wheel, pretending to hide a laugh behind your hand as the driver, Johnny, leans into the car to adjust the seat for you; you spread your legs so he can reach between them to pull the bar before he can move the chair, helping you hitch it forwards so you can reach the pedals with your feet, your legs shorter than his. It’s nothing lewd but it’s undeniably flirtatious, even if you’re more focused on drinking down the car’s beautiful interior than pandering to his attention on you.

Johnny holds a hand out to help you step out of the low car and back onto your feet, taking a second to steady yourself on your heels. You’ve been so focused on the Viper that you haven’t been paying attention to the other vehicles that now fill the parking lot, but over Johnny’s shoulder you notice a car that’s as familiar as your own by now—Jimin’s black Skyline.

Your hand is still lingering in Johnny’s as you take the sight in. Jimin looks surprisingly flashy today, jewel embellished bomber jacket catching the eye, Gucci shirt tucked into leather trousers that are cinched tight against his waist by his belt, highlighting his thick thighs and perfect ass. Still pink-haired and always gorgeous. Your beautiful, charming, wonderful boyfriend.

When you make eye contact with him for the first time that night, a hot shiver shoots through you, goosebumps rising over your skin. Jimin’s lips are a firm line and his eyes are dark through the soft touch of faint eyeshadow, and he looks almost impassive, cold; even when you’d first met, back when you’d been nothing more than opponents, he’d never looked like this. 

He’s furious.

He doesn’t come over to wish you good luck today and you don’t approach him either.  Even if this hadn’t been your aim to begin with, who can blame you? You’ll work with this. Maybe it’s passive aggressive, maybe it’s petty, but if Jimin isn’t going to give you the time of day you can’t be blamed if you’re feeling starved for attention, right?

Johnny might be watching, and others might be staring, but at the end of the day you’re only ever aware of one man—and Jimin knows that. 

You’ve been driving your Pontiac for long enough that adding heels to the mix doesn’t throw you off as much as people might expect (besides, you’ve been practicing). Even so, it wouldn’t matter if they did, because you’re not wearing them to help achieve a victory—for the first time ever, you don’t care if you beat Jimin today. Not on the track, anyway. You wanted him wound up and frustrated, desperate to touch you, and it seems like he is.

It shows in his driving. He’s always a sight to behold when he races, swaying his body into the motion of his car as they dance together, every motion practiced and sure. But tonight his actions are sharp and angry. Jimin curls his Skyline into each turn, hard and fast; the Nissan almost seems to float as he pulls the steering wheel and sets the wheels at the perfect angle to achieve his drift, swinging effortlessly around the crescents of safety cones of today’s course. 

He beats you. 

And yet you’re the one who’s smiling. You step out of your car and take in his frosty expression; your heart pounds in your chest but you pretend to be unaffected, disappearing into the throng of fans who are hollering in excitement for the after party now that all the races have finished. 

“Oh, hey, Y/n!” Hoseok seems unperturbed when you loop your arm through his, staying cheerful as you latch onto him. He’s still one of the few drivers who you actually like and trust to not be lecherous towards you, no matter what you’re wearing. “Wow, you’re a lot taller than normal. Where’s Jimin?”

“Don’t know,” you say. It’s true—he’d disappeared after the race and you have no idea where he’s gone, but you know you’ll find him eventually. Or he’ll find you. You always find each other in the end. “Where are the drinks? Is there anything non-alcoholic?”

Hoseok manages to find some cans of coke, much to your delight. He tilts his own can against yours in a cheers motion as you continue to cling to him, sipping your drink, eyes scanning the crowd for where your boyfriend might have disappeared to. 

By the time your can is empty and drained of liquid, Jimin has yet to appear. You frown. It’s not like him to be gone for so long, even if he’s angry right now. You unravel your arm from Hoseok’s and pat his cute cheek as a thank you for letting you hold onto him for so long before you slip away from the after party; you’re uninterested in keeping up the facade of having fun if Jimin isn’t around. 

The elevator is deserted when you step into it, pressing the button to take you to the roof, where you’d left your Pontiac after finishing the race earlier. It’s starting to get chilly and your sheer top does nothing to protect you from the nip in the air. You draw your leather jacket closer around you once the elevator doors open, stepping out onto the rooftop and towards your Solstice. 

There are no lights up here but you don’t need any. Gangnam never sleeps, lights from billboards and skyscrapers washing over each of the buildings, and the sky is clear tonight too—the moon is shining down, silver and bright. You spot a familiar silhouette, bathed in white light where he sits atop your Pontiac’s hood, leaning back on his palms in the way he always does.

Jimin’s the only person who's allowed to touch your car like that.

You let your jacket fall back open as you approach. Jimin’s eyes flicker over to you, his face remaining hard as he watches. A cold shiver runs down your spine but you hold your ground—you’re not about to bow down immediately in the face of his quiet frustration.

Jimin’s eyes slide over you, taking every inch of you in; each part of your revealing outfit, your flawless makeup, your boots, their unnecessary heel. Even though you know he’s angry right now you can tell he likes what he sees and you can’t help but feel pleased about it. 

“Come here, sweet thing,” he says. He spreads his knees apart so you can stand between his legs, because of course you immediately comply with him; he lifts one hand off the car’s bonnet to grasp your chin in his hands, tilting your face down towards him. He doesn’t let go. His grasp is firm. “Any reason why you’re so dolled up today?”

“Nope.” You pop your lips loudly around the p. “No reason at all. Why, do I need a reason to want to look pretty?”

Jimin’s grip tightens and his eyes narrow. Wrong answer. A small puff of air escapes you, knees weak—you’ve never seen Jimin so affected by anything and you feel weirdly powerful at this realisation. There’s something thrilling to know that only you can get under his skin like this.

“Of course not.” Jimin’s voice is deceptively smooth and low, something burning in his gaze. “Just seems to me like my baby wanted everyone’s eyes on her tonight, for one reason or another.”

You stay silent. You don’t want everyone’s eyes on you: you just want his.

Jimin crooks one of his eyebrows at you as you remain quiet. He takes his hand off your chin and lets it fall, dragging it over the lace of your top, through the valley of your breasts and down your stomach before slipping under the hem, splaying his hand over your belly. You can’t help but shiver, body singing under his touch when he draws his nails lightly over your skin. The sight of his hand against you, visible through the netting of your shirt, sets the blood to rising in your veins.

“Oh? Shy all of a sudden, baby?” His eyebrow is still raised as he watches your movements, the way you react to him so easily, always attuned to his touch. “Where was all that shyness earlier, hm? You seemed so bold behind the wheel of that little Viper.”

“I was just having a look,” you say, acting a little pettish. You hadn’t been planning on letting Jimin touch you, but—but you’re so weak for him, and besides, you don’t want him thinking that you’re shying away from his hands because you’d been talking to Johnny earlier.

Jimin rises, pulling his hand from under your shirt as he does. “And everyone was looking at you,” he says. You know he can be possessive and it’s fine, because you are too, and you have no eyes for anyone else but him; normally he likes it when people look at you, because they don’t have a chance and he knows it. “Do you like it when people watch you, sweet thing?”

He punctuates this question with a movement of his hands, one coming to rest at your collarbones, the other sliding between your legs with no warning, running his fingers over the material of your underwear. You jolt in surprise, sucking in a breath.

“You want me to take you right here, hm?” His fingers are rubbing small, tantalisingly light circles over your clit, your panties a maddening barrier between your skin and his. “Bend you over and fuck you on this rooftop where anyone could see?”

Your cunt clenches, entire body going tight at the idea, and Jimin’s eyes darken when he notices. He flips your positions, and your hand fly out to brace yourself against the hood of your car as Jimin shoves the material of your skirt upwards, bunching it around your waist, revealing the scalloped edges of your skimpy lace underwear and the two tiny bows that adorn the centre line of them.

“You want me to call everyone up here? Let them see how well you take my cock?” Jimin continues to run his palms over the flesh of your ass as he speaks. He digs his fingers into your skin and a moan slips out of your lips, the pain shooting through you and dulling into pleasure. “I bet you want them to touch you too, don’t you?”

“No,” you insist. “No, Jimin, only want you—”

“You expect me to believe that you’re not a hungry little cockslut, dressed the way you are tonight, hm?”

You’re blindsided by the arousal that floods through you. You know that Jimin doesn’t think that, not really, but the way he lets the degradation fall from his lips has your toes curling.

“I only want your cock,” you say, trembling. Any rush of power you felt earlier is gone. Jimin is entirely in control now and you both know it. “Wanted you to look at me—dressed pretty for you—”

“Oh, sweet thing,” Jimin hums, sounding indulgent. “You were just feeling needy, was that it?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes, need you so much.”

God. You’re so weak and needy right now, and it’s crazy how much power Jimin has over you; you’ve never been so ready and willing to surrender yourself up before, your earlier planning and resolve slipping away almost as soon as Jimin had laid his hands on you. But what you have with Jimin is built on trust, and you trust him enough to be vulnerable in front of him, to let him see how hungry and desperate you are for his touch.

Then again, he’s always hungry for you, too.

He strokes his hands down your ass and thighs before he circles his hand around your throat to pull you up. He puts no pressure behind his fingertips but you feel helpless anyway, breathless as he pulls you flush against him, your back to his chest, head tilted upwards with how his hand is resting around your throat.

Jimin’s voice is pitched low and his breath is warm against your ear as he lets the words curl out of his mouth. “What does my baby need?”

Oh, he does so love to hear you beg. Your eyes flicker towards a sudden flash of light; there’s someone using the elevator, panel lighting up, letting you know they’re on the way to the rooftop.

“Jimin—”

He presses closer to you, trapping you against your car, helpless. “If you don’t tell me what you need you won’t get it,” he says, and you shudder.

“Need you to fuck me,” you gasp out. “Need you to make me cum—need you to fill me up—want you so bad—”

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

Jimin steps away just as the elevator dings, doors sliding open to reveal a gaggle of people, fans crowding around a few drivers. The smile on Jimin’s face is wicked as you turn around, and you almost hate how nonchalant he looks while you’re so affected. You have no doubt the flimsy material of your underwear and the high hem of your skirt is doing nothing to hide how slick you are, so you’re grateful that the rooftop is only lit in dim light.

One of the drivers peels off from the group and you realise that it’s Johnny. He approaches you despite how Jimin wraps an arm around your waist, hand sliding under your jacket—you let yourself relax, leaning against Jimin’s familiar body, settling against him in a way you don’t even have to think about any more.

“Nice driving,” Johnny says. He hadn’t actually raced himself, but his Dodge is a powerful and vicious beast, so you’re not surprised he didn’t want to risk damaging her in the tight corners of the car park. She thrives on the open road, not indoors. “Want to put those skills to the test in my Viper?”

“She’s busy.” Jimin pulls you even closer. He has his usual mask on now, distant and aloof. You’re the only one who sees his softness, or his lust. (That’s only for you.)

“Wasn’t talking to you, man.” Johnny doesn’t even spare Jimin a glance, ignoring him despite how Jimin had beaten you earlier—he just stares at you. You can’t help but feel insulted on your boyfriend’s behalf. He’s a fantastic driver and he deserves every bit of attention that Johnny is lavishing on you.

“Thank you, but it’s true, I’m busy,” you say. Jimin’s thumb is slowly brushing up and down your side; just a small, tiny motion, but you’re hyperaware of it. You lift your hand to rest on Jimin’s chest, over the raised, glittering Roman numerals of his shirt. “Enjoy your Viper. She’s beautiful.”

Johnny stands there for a second and then shrugs. “Aight,” he says. “I will. Have a nice night, I guess.”

He wanders off and gets absorbed back into the group of people he’d appeared with. Jimin turns his head and kisses your cheek, and then your ear, dipping his head to mouth at your neck, and you grip the hand that’s resting on your waist.

“Jiminie,” you say. “We need to go.”

He laughs against the skin of your throat. He sounds smug, the desperation obvious in your tone. “Always so needy, sweet thing,” he murmurs. “Haven’t heard the saying all good things come to those who wait?”

Jimin’s making you pay for your earlier boldness and you know it. There’s an ache between your legs, one that needs to be satisfied, but he seems happy to wait, unruffled. You’re so riled up right now and he seems unmoved, even if the iciness around him has melted now.

“I’ve been waiting all night.” You squirm a little, tightening your thighs, trying to offer yourself some relief; Jimin can always turn you on so fast and you can feel a physical throb of arousal in your cunt, lips swollen, begging to just be touched.

He lets out a little sigh, as if he’s being put upon right now. You’re torn between wanting to kiss him or shove him away from your car.

“Fine,” you say, making your tone a petulant one as you turn your nose up. “I guess I’ll just go home and grab my vibrator—”

Jimin tugs you against him, his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes.  His voice is quiet but undeniable. “No, you won’t. I’m not done with you, sweet thing. You’re always so impatient.” He loosens his hold so he can pull his head away and then he’s smiling at you; there’s something behind that smirk, something in his eyes. “Come on, baby.”

He gives you no chance to question him. You drive beside him in your Solstice, trying to ignore how your skirt is hitched up and you can feel yourself dripping on the leather seat; the rumble and vibrations of your car provide the barest of reliefs, nowhere near what you really want. 

You know Jimin’s apartment will be deserted tonight, Yoongi staying with Taehyung, leaving you and Jimin alone, but he still teases you even as you step inside. You try to crowd up against Jimin, get him to touch you— you know that he wants to and he usually gives in once you’re this wound up and aching, but tonight he seems content not to. At one point you try to guide his hand under your shirt again and he grabs your wrist, giving you a look that makes your knees go weak, even if you scowl at him. He hasn’t even kissed you properly yet.

“Be patient,” he says. 

There’s a note of warning in his voice. Normally you’d be more willing and pliant, ready to listen, but this entire escapade started because you’re feeling neglected and ignored—this is just the icing on the cake.

“I have been! Come on,” you whine. “Don’t you want your reward for winning tonight?”

Jimin’s mouth is a hard line. “I’m going to claim my prize,” he says. “But it seems like you’re making this about you, aren’t you? Always so greedy, sweet thing. I guess I’ve been too lax with you, haven’t I?”

You pause. He has that look in his eye, one that you’ve started to recognise the more you see it, and you can feel your pussy throbbing when you realise that he’s starting to take complete control of the situation. You’re equals on the track, and equals in this relationship, but recently in the bedroom you’ve been giving up your position at the helm sometimes, letting Jimin control the pace.

Because you trust him.

“Maybe,” you answer, and Jimin smiles. “But you can’t blame me for that.”

“No, that’s true,” Jimin says. “That’s why I’ll only punish you for your earlier shameless behaviour, not your impatience. I’ll give you five.”

He doesn’t need to elaborate on what he means. Five spanks. Barely anything, really. You scoff. “Five? Why even bother at that point?”

Jimin’s eyes darken. “Another five for answering back. That’s ten altogether. You want to keep going, baby?”

Do you? You’re not sure. Jimin’s helped you discover that you enjoy spanking, sure, but do you really want to waste time on more spanks when you could be getting something better?

You’ve clearly been quiet for long enough that Jimin finds it concerning. “What’s your colour, sweet thing?”

A warm flush of affection spreads through your chest, the reminder that no matter what happens, you have your safewords: that even though you feel like Jimin is controlling the direction of the night, you have the power to stop it if you need to. You decide that ten is enough. “Green,” you say. “I’m green, Jimin.” 

You watch as he smiles at you, pleased, before he pulls the rings off his right hand, dropping them to the coffee table and ignoring the clatter of metal against glass. Once his hand is free and unadorned he takes a seat in the middle of the sofa, patting his thighs. “Boots off, and then I want you over here, baby.”

You shrug your jacket off and let it fall to the floor before you pull the tie-string at the top of your boots, letting them sag open before you kick them aside. You try to ignore how slick your folds feel and how wet you are as you make your way over to him, draping yourself across his lap; his thighs feel so thick and firm under your stomach, shifting forwards so that your ass is tilted up towards him, settling over his knees. You glance over your shoulder to look at Jimin but he just tuts.

“Eyes forward.”

You bite your lip but obey, facing forwards again as you stretch your arms in front of you, staring at your hands. You can’t see what Jimin is doing but you focus on the sensation of each of his motions. How he pulls your skirt up like he had earlier, how the air of the room is cool on your skin. 

You choke in a gasp when he takes the material of your underwear and tugs it up, revealing the bare skin of your ass when he pulls them tight; the pressure against your clit feels so good but it’s still not enough, even when you try to roll your hips forwards into the sensation. He clicks his tongue and then pulls them down instead, letting them settle at your knees, nothing better than a flimsy restraint.

“I want you to count them for me,” Jimin murmurs. He’s rubbing his hands over your skin, your lower back and ass and thighs, getting you ready; he swats your skin lightly a few times to get you prepared, each quick slap a glancing touch that quickly fades. “One to ten. Okay?”

“Okay.” Your voice is shakier than you thought it would be, so wound up and desperate for any sort of relief. Even though the light hits that he’s raining down on your skin fade almost instantly you can feel the coil tightening inside you, the anticipation building up, ready to burst.

The first real smack has you jolting in his lap. The pain quickly fades into pleasure and you clench your hands as the sensation rolls through you. “One,” you count as Jimin rubs his palm over your skin, soothing it.

The next smack is on your other buttock, Jimin’s flat palm leaving a stinging sensation against your skin that tingles outwards and into your core. “T-two.”

You continue to count out each smack. Jimin varies the intensity and speed of them, alternating between caressing your skin or squeezing the flesh of your ass between each one; you can never anticipate how he’s going to move, each slap against your skin a sharp pain that instantly melts into pleasure, sensation dulling and spreading into a tingling sting that settles into you.

By the time you’re ready for the last hit you’re almost sobbing with pleasure, trying your best not to squirm in his lap, trying not to think about how much you’re dripping. Jimin dips his fingers lower, glancing over your sodden folds, and you gasp out loud at the teasing, desperate for more.

“One more.” Jimin’s voice is low. “You’re doing so, so well, baby. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you confirm, and then his hand is coming down against the swell of your ass for the final time. “Ten,” you gasp.

Jimin’s hands are all over you, stroking you, praising you with his words and touch. He turns your head towards him so he can crane forwards and kiss you. It’s an awkward position but you can’t help but lean into the kiss, the first time his lips have touched yours tonight, ample reward after the punishment you’d just taken.

“Did so well,” he praises. “How are you doing, baby?”

His hands are rubbing over your sore flesh. Your skin stings but the ache isn’t bad, although you can’t help but think that you’re not going to want to put any pressure on your ass any time soon. “I’m good,” you say. “So good. Thank you, Jiminie.”

He lets out a tinkling little laugh. “Thanking me for a punishment, sweet thing?”

You feel loose and relaxed, limp in Jimin’s lap, all the endorphins from the spanking running through your veins. “I deserved it,” you sigh.

Your head is turned to one side so you can glance at Jimin, though the angle still prevents you from seeing anything in any sort of detail—so you’re caught completely off guard when he pushes a finger into you, your lower lips parting so easily for him, and you let out a reedy cry when he presses another one in when he realises you can take it.

“You’re fucking dripping,” Jimin breathes, and you writhe as he presses in deeper, his pretty little fingers sinking so easily into your greedy cunt. You can’t spread your legs properly with how your underwear is hooked around your knees and you feel so tight around his fingers, especially when he presses a third one in, the slight burn fading so quickly into pleasure. “Oh, just look at you.”

The slick sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of you is lewd. You’re so, so wet, only growing wetter as he continues to move his hand; he doesn’t touch your clit and when you try to rock against his thighs he uses his other hand to hold you still, splaying his fingers over the heated flesh of your ass. 

He knows how hard you find it to cum without any stimulation to your clit and doesn’t touch you where you’re desperate to be touched, focusing on turning you into a quivering, needy mess in his lap. Your skin feels overheated and your nipples are hard in the cups of your bra, almost painful, and you’re so, so hungry for your release.

“Jimin, please,” you sob. “Please, please—”

He pulls all of his fingers out of you all at once. Tears of frustration spring to your eyes and you kick your feet as you clench and unclench your hands, but then Jimin is guiding you off his lap, putting his hands around your waist to move you. His hands are quick and fast as they tug your skirt down your legs, though he’s still careful to ease the waistband over the curve of your hips and ass, avoiding the stinging skin. You feel the lace of your top rip as you both hastily pull it off, but you really don’t give a shit, fumbling for the clasp of your bra as soon as you can; you’re naked and needy in front of a fully-clothed Jimin, who’s looking at you with hooded eyes as he stands.

Normally you take the time to touch him, feel his soft skin under your hands and lips, tease him and work him up with his cock in your mouth, but tonight it seems like he’s too impatient to wait. When you reach out for him he takes hold of your wrists, his grasp gentle but firm, and he guides you into the position he wants— knees on the sofa, hands braced against the backrest, looking over your shoulder so you can drink him in as he gets undressed.

First, that beautiful embellished bomber of his, carelessly cast to one side. Next, the shirt, tugged out of the tight loop of his belt and pulled over his head, revealing his beautiful chest and stomach, the tattoos you’ve grown familiar with still beautiful as ever on his skin. The belt, unbuckled, leather trousers shoved down and kicked aside, and then he pulls his socks off and he’s finally, finally done. He looks so beautiful like this, naked save for the jewellery on his body— the chain around his neck, the bracelets at his wrists, the rings on his left hand, and of course, the simple, silver hoops in his ears.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” you breathe. 

Jimin’s expression is clouded with lust but you can see how his eyes go soft at your reverent tone, and he bends forwards to catch your mouth against his again; it’s deep and slow but messy, sloppy with the desperation you have for each other. “You’re gorgeous too,” he murmurs against your lips, and you smile, leaning into him. “My pretty baby.”

One of his hands settles at the curve of your waist, and the other grips his cock, ready to press into you. You’re almost shivering, so, so ready for him, entire body on edge; you choke in a gasp when you feel his cockhead brush against your folds, the slide so wet and easy. You feel how you part for him once he breaches you, your inner walls opening for his familiar hardness, pulling him in deeper and deeper until he bottoms out.

The skin of your ass stings where he’s pressed against it, but it’s just another sensation on top of the pleasure singing through you, settling in your lower belly and between your legs. Jimin wastes no time and starts to snap his hips forwards, one hand at your waist and the other at your shoulder to give him leverage to drive into you, curving your spine as you struggle to hold yourself up— the slap of his skin against yours and the wet sounds of his cock breaching your cunt is almost deafening, but then he leans forward to hook his arm around you, taking his fingers and rubbing tight, quick circles on your clit, fingers still wet from where they’d been sunk into you before.

The noise you make when you finally cum drowns out the other sounds that have been filling the room. You cum so hard your legs shake and you slump forwards, thighs trembling as you fold your weight into your arms, ripples of pleasure skating through you from your dripping cunt, still stuffed full of Jimin’s hot cock.

Jimin slows his thrusts, though he’s still pumping in and out of you, aftershocks trembling through your body from your orgasm. He puts a hand in your hair and tugs, pulling you against him, the skin of your back pressed against his chest. “Is my baby still feeling needy, hm?”

You nod your head, still grinding back against him, chasing the pleasure of his cock shifting inside you and the ache of your stinging skin dragging against his hipbones. “Yes,” you say, breathless. “Yes, need more.”

Jimin laughs, a triumphant little sound. You’re too far gone to even feel embarrassed at how shameless you’re being right now. “I knew it,” he says. “Greedy little cockslut, aren’t you?”

You clench around him, swallowing down a moan. “Only for you, Jiminie.”

“No one else is ever going to be good enough, are they?” He circles his hips and you shudder against him at the feeling, how his cock drags against your inner walls. “No one else knows how to please my baby like I do, do they?”

“No,” you agree. “No, no one else, only you— oh—”

Jimin stays inside you as he turns you around, hands firm around your waist as he sits down and pulls you with him, seating you in his lap. You lean back against him, rolling your hips and arching your spine when he cups your breasts in his hands, kissing down the length of your neck before sucking marks into your skin. Once it seems like he’s satisfied with how clearly he’s marked you as being taken, as being his, he starts to bounce you in his lap, thick thighs cushioning your fall each time you drive your hips back down.

“Can you cum again for me, baby?” His fingers are digging so firmly into your hips now that you wonder if it’ll bruise, but you can’t help but want it, want more reminders that you’re his. Reminders of his touch. “Can you give me one more?”

“Y-yes,” you hiccup, breath driven out of you with one particularly hard rock of Jimin’s hips. “Wanna come with you, Jimin.”

You can tell when Jimin’s close to his release. You don’t need to look over your shoulder to know—you can picture the sweat in his hair, the set of his brows and the curve of his mouth as he moans. You know the cadence of his gasps, how the motions of his hips start to speed and go off rhythm; you know exactly when to let your hand fall between your legs, rubbing at your clit so that you can cum with Jimin, your entire body wound up and ready to tumble off the edge with him. He puts his hand over yours, pressing the pads of your fingers down harder on your swollen bundle of nerves as your fingers grow slick with your wetness, and you’re gone.

You hit your peak with a breathless, wanton cry, throwing your head back against Jimin’s shoulder as your toes curl and you cum again. You’re swept up in the sensation of pleasure washing through your body when you feel how Jimin shudders underneath and inside you, how your cunt is still clenching as his cock twitches, as he empties himself into you. You’ve never cum the same time as someone before. It’s almost like you’re pulling the cum out of him, drawing it deeper inside you with each wave of sensation that ripples through your core, and you slump back against him, your chests heaving as you both ride out your highs; the tremors slowly subside as Jimin strokes his hands over your skin, and you twist your head so you can kiss each other slowly, lazily pressing your lips together as you catch your breaths, pleasure from your orgasms settling into every inch of your bodies.

“My pretty baby,” Jimin says, quiet and sweet against your mouth. You smile and rub your nose against his, pressing a swift kiss to the swell of his cupid’s bow.

“All yours,” you say, leaning into the tight embrace that Jimin wraps you in.

You feel blissful and fucked out, lying on your side on the sofa to save putting pressure on your still sore ass, watching Jimin as he moves around the room. He gathers up your clothes and you see how he pauses when he reaches your boots. It’s like you both remember all at once what lead you to this moment, and you see how Jimin turns his head to you with a question on his lips—he knows you well enough to know that everything you do is thought out and measured and that there would have been a reason that you were dressed so provocatively. You wouldn’t have done it on a whim, just because you felt like it.

“Y/n,” he says, and you look away from him, suddenly embarrassed. Every touch tonight has cemented the fact that Jimin cares about you and gives you time and attention, so now you just feel like some sort of dumb petulant child who was being greedy—you didn’t think you were monopolising Jimin’s time, but you obviously are. “Why—”

“You kept saying you were busy,” you interrupt, though you keep your eyes off him, staring up at the ceiling instead. “I was just—I was just feeling neglected and I wanted you to look at me. I wasn’t trying to get anyone else’s attention, I just wanted you to want to spend time with me, because you’ve been so busy recently and you won’t tell me why,” you finish, your voice quiet. You feel silly even as the final words come out.

“Oh, sweet thing.” Jimin’s voice is warm and gentle. You glance away from the ceiling to see him carefully setting all the clothes and mess to one side, heedless of the tangle of expensive clothing, and he crouches by the sofa to cup your face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you sigh, nuzzling into his lovely hands, into the now-familiar sensation of his fingers against your cheeks. “I was just being greedy.”

“No, you weren’t, you’re right.” His hair is mussed and his eyeshadow is smudged, as is yours, the two of you vulnerable with each other in ways you never are with anyone else. His eyes are soft and his face is open as he dips down to kiss your forehead, brushing the loose hair away from your face. “I have been very busy and I’ve been unfair by not telling you why.”

“You don’t have to,” you insist, but he shakes his head.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” he says. “Hold on.”

You watch him leave the room and pad down the hallway, past Yoongi’s bedroom and into his own, and you sit up when you see him reappear with a small collection of papers, print-outs that you try to catch a glimpse of before he spreads them on the coffee table for you to see.

“I’ve been going on apartment viewings,” he says. “I was trying to work out which place was best. What’s in our budget, where’s between my work and your garage—I’ve been trying to narrow it down.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. He’s smiling at you in that way of his that you love so much, the one that squeezes his eyes and lets you see his crooked front tooth—the smile that drives home that Jimin is flawlessly flawed, perfect with his imperfections, overwhelming in his beauty.

“Jimin,” you breathe. “You want to move in with me?”

“More than anything,” he says. “I thought it would be nice if you didn’t have to worry about anything because I would have already done all the legwork. I wanted to surprise you.”

Your face crumples. You don’t mean to, but you can feel tears welling in your eyes; Jimin moves instantly, pulling you close to him as you try to swallow down the sudden rush of emotion, overwhelmed. You’re both still naked, your skin pressed against his as he holds you, but there’s no lust behind this touch—it’s all love and affection and you still can’t believe that Park Jimin is yours. You’ve never felt so lucky in all your life.

“You should have told me,” you sniffle. “Apartment viewings suck. I could have helped.”

Jimin laughs, a light giggle that ends up muffled against your scalp when he noses into your hair. “That would have defeated the purpose of the surprise, sweet thing,” he says. He pulls back so he can look at you, and just like when he’d seen you cry before, there’s no judgement on his face—just warm empathy and fondness. “They do suck, though. It’s taken so much longer than I thought. I never meant to make you feel neglected.”

“I was being stupid.” You huff out a breath into his face. “Like—okay, sure, maybe you weren’t spending as much time with me as you normally do, but you weren’t neglecting me. I just got so used to having you whenever I wanted you.”

Jimin smiles. He keeps hold of you, pulled close in his embrace, and you know then that you’re never going to let Park Jimin go. “When we move in, you will,” he says, and you shiver at the promise of future pleasure—not just sex, but closeness, intimacy, a promise to one another that this is going to become more.

But, like, also the sex, too.

God, Jimin is so gorgeous.

You let Jimin thumb your small tears away. You hate crying in front of anyone, hate feeling weak, but Jimin never judges you. He makes you feel safe, like you can be open with him, and you know he’ll never betray your trust. You press a kiss to his Adam’s apple before you peer at the printed sheets on the coffee table, wanting to see the fruits of his labour. “So are these the ones you’ve narrowed it down to?” Your eyes flicker over the pages. “Take me through them.”

You end up curled in his lap, looking through each of his choices together—and hey, if you get distracted by each other halfway through the selection, who can blame you?

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