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kessielrg · 1 year ago

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[Zelda] Please, Protect the Arts: Part 2

Notes: A little scared that I’ve written 3k words today- the entirety of this chapter with at least 1k for the first. This is the most I’ve written since the month started. Weird. Very sus. I’ve got 3 other fics that need to be taken care of too. It’s kinda frustrating. :’)

Rating: K

Word Count: 1,677 words

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At first, Zelda thought she didn’t carry an opinion of the situation. A little unnerved that the boy wouldn’t tell her his name upfront, of course, but it was only a small road bump in her grand plan. Instead, she was excited. Mysteries were something Zelda has a passing interest in- the satisfaction of piecing a puzzle together before having all the pieces in front of you. Learning this boy’s name would be exactly that. He may (would, she mentally corrected in hope) even help her defend the school’s funding if she played along. It would be a puzzle where everyone won in the end. She would almost bet on it.

“Are you sure you want to go for a drive, ma’am?” the family chauffeur asked as Zelda walked up to the car. “Now would be the time to work on that garden you keep boasting about.”

Zelda let out a laugh. “I don’t talk about it that much- you just want me to pick a bouquet for you so you don’t have to buy them for your wife.”

The chauffeur then gave a laugh of his own. “Guilty as charged.” he admitted. Once he made sure Zelda was safely in the car, he got in as well.

“Where to, then?” he asked as he started the engine.

“The Hylian School of Arts, if you’d please.”

“Oh?” the chauffeur asked, glancing at her through the rear view mirror. “Do you plan on enrolling for next year’s classes?”

“No,” Zelda said with a shake of her head, “I promised to meet someone there today.”

“Oh?”

Zelda now looked up at the chauffeur. A hint of both amusement and annoyance traced across her face.

“Not like that.” she sternly insisted. It did not stop the chauffeur from laughing at her besides.

. . .

The Hylian School of Arts was located at the border of the city outskirts and downtown. It had been declared a historical landmark some time before Zelda was conceived. The exterior was a grayish-white that only got power washed once a season, with colorful flowers that made up the quad leading to the front door itself. Above the door was the crest of the school- a bronze phoenix composed of three triangles and sprawling wings. The symbol was one that Zelda was familiar with. Many of her female family members could call the old campus their alma mater. Local stories decided that it was a female ancestor that started it back when ladies still wore wide hoop skirts, and horses could be ridden horseback without anyone giving it a second glance.

To lose its funding would be a great blow for the institution. Even if the school dissolved, the building would still be here- either empty and forgotten, or turned into something a lot more commercial. Something a lot less community driven. Something that only existed to make money.

Zelda shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to think about that. If anything, she was working to correct it.

Standing a bit straighter, Zelda walked through the door of The Hylian School of Arts. Her stop right after was with the main receptionist.

“Room 115?” the receptionist repeated once Zelda had told her the room. “It’s a floor under this one. Just take the elevator down, make a right once you get out, and follow the corridor down.”

“Thank you.” Zelda nodded. Her heels of her ankle boots clicked as she walked down the polished floor to the elevator. For a fleeting moment she wondered if it was the original flooring. It couldn’t be, she decided, not with how often it looked like they buffed this floor.

The elevator also seemed like an oddity. It was very wide, more wide than a standard elevator. Zelda was once more reminded of ladies with hoop skirts wider than the typical wheelchair. How many of those studious ladies with wide skirts did this elevator used to hold? Three? Five? Zelda was still entertaining the idea once she stepped off the elevator and made a right down the corridor. It was probably thoughts of the elevator that didn’t allow Zelda to think as she placed her hand on Room 115’s handle. She had it completely turned and about to open before she realized a full orchestra was playing on the other end.

Zelda leaped away from the door immediately. She gave her racing heart time to settle again as she cursed herself for being careless. Beside the door, she realized, was a rather wide window that could allow onlookers to observe the orchestra when they were in practice. Zelda used it to give the players a look over. There were an equal amount of both men and women, of various size and skill as they kept up with their conductor- who was positioned at the front of the room with a lectern that surely had whatever sheet music they were meant to be playing from.

Zelda soon found a familiar face in the wind section. Their gazes immediately met not long after.

The boy smirked at her.

He smirked at Zelda. He knew that she had almost unceremoniously interrupted the class. And he looked almost proud at the fact!

“Asshole.” Zelda mouthed to him. The boy’s smirk grew so wide that he accidentally missed four notes.

The rest of the class seemed to proceed as usual. Zelda had moved away from the window to not catch anyone else’s attention. She listened as the budding orchestra worked on the same piece for another hour, starting and stopping at various places in between starting from the beginning to end. As the students started to leave the room, she expected the boy to meet her outside. He did not. He remained behind even after the teacher left. Entering when no one else was in there felt wrong.

“You gave me that time on purpose.” Zelda immediately huffed regardless. “Do you hate that song or something?”

The boy gave a simple roll of his shoulder. The wide grin on his face was just as apparent. Zelda rolled her eyes. Oh, this boy had jokes alright. Those blue eyes might have seen a lot of things, but it wasn’t without an air of punkishness to counteract it.

Not once she did she reconsider that he might help her. Never even crossed her mind.

“This is a nice room,” Zelda noted as she walked around. “It’s hard to imagine it could hold so many instruments. Let alone the people who play them.”

The boy only blinked as he watched her. It felt like he was studying her. Some part of her mind wondered if he was waiting for her to show boredom or anger. If she had any, it was lost as Zelda looked over the late harp stationed near the corner where the other string instrument players had been.

“I used to play the harp.” Zelda mused to no one in particular as her fingers glided against the strings. The gently ascending notes were a comfort. “I had to stop because…”

She honestly couldn’t remember why she had stopped playing. It had been a choice made long, long ago, she knew that much. The boy broke her thoughts when he gave her a tiny nudge. Zelda had been so lost in thought that she hadn’t realized he had moved closer to her.

“What’s wrong?” Zelda asked.

The boy held up his ocarina, gestured to the harp, then to Zelda. Without saying a word, she knew exactly what he meant.

“Oh no, I can’t. I shouldn’t.”

The boy raised an eyebrow at her.

‘Why not?’ his face questioned in place of his voice. ‘It’s just us two here.’

Zelda immediately felt guilty.

“Even if I played with you, we don’t have any sheet music that works with just a harp… and ocarina.” Zelda paused. She gave the boy an odd look before saying, “Unless you had something in mind?”

The boy held up a finger before going to a bookshelf. While there, he pulled out a binder filled with sheet music. He pulled out two copies, then handed one to Zelda. She looked it over in curiosity, then a bit of distaste.

“At least it’s in a C key…” Zelda murmured under her breath.

The boy gave a wide grin in knowing that Zelda wasn’t going to back out now. He quickly pulled a chair closer to Zelda and the harp, then sat comfortably enough to hold the ocarina close to his lips. His enthusiasm almost stirred something within Zelda. She soon took her seat at the harp, trusting that it had been tuned before practice today, and sat up in a comfortable way for her to begin playing.

The boy led them at first. It was slow and careful. Zelda followed with sweeping movements that nearly made her become one with the harp. It may have been a perfect performance had she remembered to look at the sheet music more often. They worked well together, the boy and her. In another life, this might had been their entire relationship- just two strangers that played well off each other.

Zelda was disheartened when the piece finished. She had to bring her arms down to rest on her lap purposefully. When she looked over to the boy, she hadn’t expected him to have his hand out. Let alone have a little charm placed there. It was a pewter lyre.

“It’s pretty.” she noted without much thought.

The boy pushed it closer, indicating that it was for her.

“Me?” she then questioned. “Why?”

The boy smiled at her, the amusement even reaching his eyes, as he tapped his temple then gestured to himself.

“You’re really going to make me guess your name, aren’t you?” Zelda asked him, quirking her eyebrow at him.

He nodded.

“Does it have to be one piece at a time?” Zelda then questioned- the small whine etched within had been accidental. It only seemed to make the boy grin wider.

She might have been mistaken, but he even let out a soft laugh at her expense.

#writing #writing stuff #my writing #the legend of zelda #zelda fanfiction #fanfiction #fan fiction #fan fic #fanfic #link #tloz link #tloz zelda #tloz

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thehighladywrites · 9 months ago

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— “You’ve never gotten a blowjob?”

☀︎ — pairing: nerd/tutor azriel x ditzy/popular/bimbo reader

☀︎ — summary: Even after weeks of Azriel helping you, there’s no progress. You ask him shameless questions and show him new things

☀︎ — warnings: corruption-ish, nsfw thoughts, first kisses, body worship-ish, buff az, blushing, touching boobs, grinding, talk ab bjs, reader and az being cute ughhh, azzie being nervous, fluff

☀︎ — amara’s note: this isn’t the best thing i’ve written and it was supposed to be posted saturday but i kept editing and adding and removing and i’m sick of it🤨 here pls enjoy, and if u see any grammar errors, no you don’t 💗

series masterlist

“I don’t understand anything, how am I ever gonna pass this stupid test?” you whine and put your face in your hands.

Azriel had been tutoring you for a few weeks now and it was going nowhere. He was starting to question his own abilities. It was a wonder nothing got through to you.

Not only was he one of the most intelligent students on campus, he also majored in advanced computer science and had a minor in mathematics. He was incredibly intelligent and understood everything perfectly well. It had been something that came naturally to him. Numbers didn’t lie and it was all like a big puzzle he had to solve.

But the puzzle of helping you was like trying to put two pieces that didn’t fit. You and math’s simply didn’t work. And why would you even need to worry about pesky things like algebra and calculus when you could use your time to think about tiny skirts, hot guys and lipgloss?

Couldn’t you just live?

For several weeks, Azriel had been patiently trying to help you understand the basics. While he thought you were cute, your struggles with comprehension made you seem practically as dense as a brick.

“It’s okay. You’ll pass. We can just use another study technique. Have you heard of active recalling?”

In the midst of your breakdown you just looked up to him with a “duh, are you kidding me” expression and placed your face in your hands to sob.

“I’ll explain very slowly, just listen yeah?”

You scooted closer to him until you were basically nestled into his side.

He struggled with his words at the proximity but took a deep breath and tried explaining again

“If we are trying to solve a quadratic equation, what formula do we use? Look at the paper I made you with every formula and think really hard.”

You sniffed and pulled out the paper, looking through the letters and numbers, which made you even more angry. What idiot decided to add letter to maths?

“I think this one.”

Your nails tapped against the quadratic formula and Azriel let out a breath. Though he didn’t know if it was sheer luck or if you really knew.

“Correct. Now use the formula and solve the equation.”

Your hope died and you felt like crying again because you just really couldn’t do it.

“I dunno how to do that Azriel, it’s so hard. Can’t you be good and please do it for me?” you pouted a bit, pushing your boobs flush against his arm.

Azriel felt his blood heat, then felt the same blood rushing to his cock. He never had a woman this close to him before and he felt his body reacting in ways it never did before.

“O-okay, I’ll do this one for you but please try one the next one.”

He wanted to be good for you, he wanted you to flash him your cute little smile he had grown obsessed with. Probably the only smile he ever received from anyone.

Your heat radiated into his side and he started to get nervous. He wanted to take if his glasses before they fogged up but you stopped him.

“Hey, don’t take ‘em off, you look super hot like that.”

Azriel was convinced he was dreaming. No fucking way were you, the most beautiful and well liked girl, telling him he looked hot.

You on the other hand couldn’t help but crush on him. He was so adorably shy and it made a dark part of you giddy. You just knew he without a doubt he probably didn’t have sex often. Just thinking about riding him, seeing pleasure painted on his face for the first time in a long time as you put your wet, warm pussy around his-

“You want to move on to the next question? It’s not as hard as this one.”

His words pulled you out if your perverted fantasies. Still in a fuzzy state of mind, you just asked the question with no shame.

“You’ve ever had sex before?”

Azriel almost stuttered at the crude question. He didn’t expect to be so forward.

“This is not an appropriate topic. Let’s focus on the equations instead.”

This was a game that you very much enjoyed. You absolutely loved seeing his cheeks change colors whenever you blurted something out. It made your body tingle.

“Come on, tutor, don’t be shy. It’s just us here and I will totally keep your secrets, pinky promise. How many girls have you done it with? What is your fav position? Ooh, ever had a threesomes? I feel like you’re not regularly fucking girls, or are you a secret freak?”

Azriel almost felt his heart leap out of his chest. How were you just casually asking him these questions?

“I have not engaged in sexual relations with anyone before.” He informed you, nerdy words galore, as he fidgeted with his fingers and looked down at the paper

Your jaw dropped. How on earth could someone like him not have girls surrounding him at all times? You suspected he probably wasn’t a beast in bed but absolutely no women?

Maybe it was that pesky aura he exuded, or perhaps because his face was always hidden behind a book or computer.

“Have you even kissed a girl?” you asked, eyes focused on his pillowy lips. You nearly drooled over them. Holy fuck, you wanted to kiss him so badly.

His face turned red when he noticed how close you were and said no, he hadn’t.

So you grabbed his face and put your lips on his. He marvled at your taste, sweet from all the strawberry candies you had been eating during the study session. Your lips were soft from the lipgloss and painted his own lips your shade. The quick beating of his heart would have concerned him if he wasn’t distracted by you.

Azriel wasn’t an amazing kisser but it was to be expected. He was however a quick learner and just repeated what you did. You bit his bottom lip and he did the same thing, you sucked on his tounge and he did the same thing.

Azriel's brain was mushy, and all his senses were on overdrive. Was it really supposed to be this hot? He was getting hot flashes and had to remove his hoodie.

Your jaw dropped as you stared at Azriel, completely taken aback by the sight. It was like discovering a hidden treasure beneath layers of mystery.

Your eyes damn near popped out of your head at the sight. He was incredibly fit, left in a tight black t-shirt. Azriel's muscles were bulging, and you could practically see his abs through the shirt. But the best part?

He was covered in ink. His neck, his arms, you even saw some peeking under his shirt by the chest.

Azriel was always wearing sweaters, crewnecks, and hoodies, practically swimming in them, so you hadn't ever seen his body before.

Heat spread through your body like a wildfire. You wanted to climb on top of him and do unspeakable things.

With a cheeky grin, you'd purr to him, “Wow, Azzie, you have such big arms. D’ya work out a lot? Oh, can I please feel them?” Your soft fingers would run up and down the curves of his bulging muscles.

Azriel's brain short-circuited. Was this honestly a dream? The probability of you, of all people, asking to touch him seemed low in his calculations. He couldn’t believe his luck.

He pushed up his falling glasses and nodded, his throat too dry to give a verbal response.

Giggling, you crawled closer, bringing both hands to caress the ridges and bumps of his arm. Your fingers explored the broad expanse of his shoulders, and you whispered sweetly about the impressive size of his body. Running your fingers over his chest, you couldn't help but let out a small "ooh woww..." at the sensation of the well-defined pectoral muscles beneath your touch.

He leaned into your experimental touches, eyes fluttering shut when your palms went over his abs. You felt Azriel’s heart pound under your hand and decided to kiss him again with a theatrical ‘mwah’.

Azriel began kissing you back until his hand accidentally brushed against the side of your boob. His eyes widened, and he stammered out an apology.

“I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. It was inappropriate of me.” You looked at him with amusement and wonder. Most guys just touched you carelessly, and here he was apologizing for it incase he made you feel uncomfortable.

“You’re so sweet, Az! It’s totally fine, but let me guess. You haven’t touched tits before, right?”

He shook his head and looked down at your low cut shirt. You noticed his wandering eyes and smiled before biting your lip in excitement.

“Wanna touch ‘em?”

Azriel looked up at you, giving you a shy smile before nodding.

“Yes, I do.”

“Yay, fun! Gimme one second.”

You straddled his lap, sitting on him with his back against your bedframe. Then you grabbed the hem of your shirt and stripped, leaving your upper body in your bra.

Grabbing his big hands, you guide them to your boobs. Azriel keept his hand there, not really sure how to proceed. He didn’t know if he should squeeze them or rub them or just keep his hands there. So he asked.

“U-um, how do I proceed, sorry, move on?”

Your heart warmed at the way he corrected his words. Azriel had noticed a few sessions in that you weren’t the brightest out there and had adjusted his vocabulary for you. At first, you were a little embarrased because you knew you weren’t smart even tho you tried, it just didnt come easy to you. Azriel had helped you by explaining things in a different way that was much easier and you’d be forever grateful for it.

“I’m gonna teach you how to take off a my bra first. Just reach behind me and pop it off, it seems hard but i promise it’s super easy and-”

Before you could finish your sentence, your bra was infront of you. Azriel had moved his hand behind your back and unmade the hooks with one hand without even struggling. You looked down at him, met by a shy smile.

“It felt very mechanical. If I angled my fingers a certain way, they all would unhook at the same time.”

“You’re so smart, Azzie.”

“Thank you, y/n. Do I still have your permission to move on?”

You got a little shy and just nodded, face heating at his quick learning. His hands squeezed and massaged the flesh, finding a pattern of familiarity between his moves. You started grinding against his leg, moving back and forth when he started playing with your nipples.

Azriel got worried, not knowing if he was doing it right so he stopped his movements.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, please keep going. It feels really, really good.”

You shuffle and straddle him so you sit atop his covered cock and notice he’s hard. I mean, it would be weird if he wasn’t. A hot girl was sitting on him, letting him play with her boobs. You started gridding in his lap, making him let out hisses and groans of pleasure.

Azriel couldn’t believe how good it felt to have someone griding on top if him. And if grinding felt this good, he could only imagine sex.

He couldn’t even think straight as you started kissing him again, letting your hands wander all over his sturdy chest and arms. You let out small moans and giggles everytime your clit rubbed against his bulge. Azriel loved it, he loved the fact that he was the reason you were letting out those sweet noises.

He didn’t even have time to think as your hands traveled further down and played with the buckle of his belt. You undid the clasp and bit his lip before pulling back.

“You’ve never gotten a blowjob, right?”

“A blowjob?”

You smile at his innocence,

“Getting your dick sucked and played with. It will feel good. There are also handjobs but they’re kinda boring.”

Azriel smiles at your enthusiasm as his cheeks redden.

“No, I haven’t gotten one.”

You don’t know what it is, but the fact that he is completely untouched by anyone, just socially awkward, quiet, tall, and smart is so attractive.

He is insanely handsome and very kind too. You feel yourself slowly getting more attached to him. You know you shouldn’t, but you had broken up with your boyfriend after a few sessions with Azriel, so it was fine, right? You just wouldn’t tell anyone yet.

“Do you want one before you leave? I’ll even let you fuck.”

It’s a wonder he’s still alive at this point. Azriel was panicking and tried to deflect because he didn’t want to seem too nervous.

“I think we should go back to the questions, right? How about one more before i leave.”

You frowned and felt hurt. You weren’t told no ever in your life so it really wasn’t making sense in your head.

“Don’t you like me? Do you think I’m ugly, is that it?”

Your question caught Azriel off guard, his expression softening with concern. “No, it's not that at all,” he replied nervously, reaching out to touch your arm.

“You are very beautiful, and I do like you. I am just a bit nervous if I am honest. I have never in my life been this close to a woman before. I do not know what to do exactly. And I want to learn how to make you feel good too.”

Azriel's words took you by surprise, and you blinked a few times before responding with a slightly puzzled expression.

“Oh, I totally get it,” you said, your tone a mix of sympathy and gentleness.

“But, like, don't worry, Az. We can totally take things slow, you know? No pressure or anything.”

You smiled at him and kissed his cheek, finding his fluster endearing. “So, Az, what ya up to this weekend? Any fun parties?” you asked, leaning in with a playful grin as you put on your shirt again.

He shifted nervously, adjusting his glasses. “Um, well no, I was thinking of, uh, maybe catching up on some reading and homework,” he stammered, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

“What? How boring!” you exclaimed, teasingly poking his arm. “Come on, let's do something fun together. I’m supposed to go the Sand bar with my friends but I don’t really wanna. How about we watch a movie together?”

Azriel's eyes widened in surprise, clearly taken aback by your suggestion. “Oh, um, you want to spend time with me? Really?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You giggled at his response, finding his voice adorable. “Well, there's a first time for everything, right? Just don’t think I’m inlove with you or something.” you flashed him a teasing smile and raised your eyebrows at him.

Azriel hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly. “Okay, sure. Why not?” he agreed, a shy smile gracing his lips.

As you made plans for the weekend, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the thought of spending more time with Azriel. Despite his nerdy demeanor, there was something about him that drew you in, and you couldn't wait to see where it would lead you. He was more genuine than most of the people you called friends.

“Perfect! Get snacks when you come over, please.”

Azriel's face flushed with excitement at your invitation. “Sure thing, I'll grab some snacks,” he said, a shy smile playing on his lips.

As you parted ways after a few minutes of studying, you couldn't contain the excitement building inside you. You were eager to spend more time with Azriel and see where things would lead.

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primofate · 3 years ago

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Smile for Me (Part 4) Zhongli x fem!reader

Summary: Zhongli never smiled at you the way that he smiled at his memories of Guizhong. Thinking that the only way Zhongli would ever be happy is for Guizhong to come back again, you secretly set off on a journey to bring her back to life. But it comes with a price: Your life.

Warnings: pining, angst, one-sided (at first), hurt, angst again, drama, some Guizhong x Zhongli, hints of Xiao x reader, MAY NOT FOLLOW THE ACTUAL LORE, not proofread.

Notes: Sorry this took so long! I was actually a little stuck as to what should happen, and also real life stuff took a turn for the busy. But, here it is! Finally! THANK YOU so much for your patience and for tuning in~

Read: (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 5) (Part 6)

"...Guizhong...”

Zhongli watches as she elegantly picks her head up, eyes brightening at the sight of him. “Oh! You’re back,” she’d always been a gentle one. Kind and patient. She was about to stand and greet him with a hug, but Zhongli’s face is painted in confusion.

“...Guizhong, where is the painting?”

She stops and leans back on her seat. An ethereal smile on her face. “Painting? There wasn’t one when I arrived home, dear,” her voice is as smooth as silk and soft as clouds.

Zhongli would never, never doubt her.

Except for this time.

It was only him and her who had access to the house and he swore over his 6000 years of life that he had left the painting on the table.

There was no way Guizhong didn’t see it.

“Guizhong,” Zhongli’s voice start to teeter over the edge of impatience.

How could he not when he was starting to panic over not remembering your face?

And now the painting, the only evidence of your existence, was suddenly missing.

“I would not accuse you of anything,” Zhongli shifts and watches her carefully. “But you must understand that the painting is valuable. I would like it back, Guizhong,”

“The painting is valuable? Why not just have another one painted then? One of us?” She doesn’t even bat an eye or think about her reply. He’s rather taken aback, because his Guizhong would not do such a thing. In a matter of seconds, he feels as if something is amiss.

"So you acknowledge that there was a painting here, on this very table?" Zhongli asks again. His gaze turns hard. This time Guizhong smiles. This Guizhong is looking at him rather menacingly. The soft smile and tender gaze is gone. Zhongli glares back at her, unsure of how to react. It seemed as if there was a staring contest going on.

“...Had we always been this way?” Zhongli’s voice lowers. In his memories he flits about moments with his long lost lover. How she had been kind to everyone she met, and how she didn’t question things. “I do not think...this is what we were,” He could not remember a time where Guizhong had opposed him, or had done something to anger him or upset him. Maybe unintentionally, but not like this.

This Guizhong was hiding something.

Zhongli realizes it as she scoffs, a look of mockery crossing her face. She stands, still elegant as ever, but her sneering face had spite written all over it. “Rex Lapis,” Zhongli tensed. “What would you say if I had burned the painting?” Her voice had gone up an octave, this was the voice of someone else.

“What would you say if you were never to remember who she was?” The lady screeches, insanity spilling in her voice, like a wailing banshee. Zhongli nearly loses his grip at his own temper, he controls the shiver of slight anger that runs up his spine. “...You’ve deceived me,” his voice is even lower than normal, eyes trained on the lady.

The lady cackles and turns around, head slightly tilted back, her face out of view. When she moves back around to face Zhongli, the Geo Archon feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

You’re standing in front of him.

His mouth slacks open, yet unable to say a thing. His eyes run up and down your face. Tracing your jaw, your nose, your eyes, your hair. Trying to memorize every curve and every dip, in fear of forgetting it again.

“THIS is the girl you’re looking for, correct?” The lady with your face starts off with a low giggle, the noise turning up until she’s laughing aloud. “Would you like her back, Rex Lapis?”

His eyes snap up immediately at the offer.

“Say her name Rex Lapis, and I’ll return her to you,” A taunt.

Nothing but words to provoke him because she knew that he couldn’t remember.

This time he doesn’t control the way that his spear appears on his back, his eyes gleam a dangerous gold and a snarl is ready on his lips.

But he watches the smile that blooms on your fake face, the hope that presents in your eyes and the way your head turns up to his. “Rex Lapis is a beautiful soul. He cares for everyone, except himself. He doesn’t wish for anything, except for Liyue to flourish. That’s why...” your eyes turn down towards the ground, and slowly closes, “That’s why... I’d do anything, to make him smile again. He deserves it, and so much more so...” your voice trembles at the right places and Zhongli falters, “I’ll gladly offer myself up for his happiness, even if it means...our time together is erased,” there’s a lone tear that slips down your cheek, Zhongli steps back in horror.

He realizes that he’s being shown your last words.

A cross of hurt and regret appears on his features. The hole in his heart starts to fray at the ends, opening up more and he could feel the hollowness in him widening.

“So you see, Rex Lapis, she’s happy where she is, you don’t have to worry about her. She’s thought long and hard about reuniting you with Guizhong,” the fake you starts to talk in a normal voice, but there was still a malificent grin on your face.

Guizhong was long dead. Zhongli remembers it now. He remembers how he fondly held on to his memories of her but he had also long accepted that memories are just figments of the past, never to return again. He had missed her, yes, but he had moved forward confidently for the sake of his land. He had let himself grieve, but he didn’t let himself be paralyzed by the loss.

And along the way, what pleasure it was to have you.

You who had always stood by his side and believed in him.

You who got angry when anyone so much as doubted the strength of Rex Lapis.

You who had taken care of him and watched over him when he was too focused on taking care of others.

“...She isn’t happy,” he’s surprised by his own conclusion, but his eyes are downturned towards the ground. Sadness emanating from his form. “She has the tendency to...keep things to herself and it turns out that I... have not paid enough attention to her,” he’s frustrated that he doesn’t remember your name, like a misty cloud in his mind making his memories of you blurry and distorted.

The fake you turns silent, and watches as Rex Lapis ruminates by himself.

“She may have a smile on her face but sometimes she...is merely attempting to hide her pain,” his hand reaches over for his polearm and he slowly maneuvers it to his side. “So I do not believe that she’s happy, wherever she is, at this moment,” he points the polearm at the fake you with a different resolve, his eyes gleaming gold once again,

“And that is precisely why, I will take her back where she belongs,”

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violetlunette · 2 years ago

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you know I feel like you're the only person i have ever seen who likes Aizawa but actively dislikes Shinsou, cause if someone likes Aizawa you always assume it's a given that yes they must also like Shinsou because they both have so many charcter traits that they're basically Dr Evil and Mini-Me, they're both insomniacs, they're both assholes, they both have non offensive quirks that are incredibly overpowered given the circumstance, they're both arrogant and they have the same mindset of how heroing goes on hating the flashy heroes who are literally keeping society stable and thinking haha yes underground the best

Sorry, this took so long! I’ve been busy with a lot. ^^; Anyway, I’m going to use this to address some stuff that’s been on my mind.

Any! Long-ish post below. Oh, and this was written in a rush as I’m busy during this time, so forgive any grammar mistakes, repeats, and inconsistencies.

Oh, and if you feel I made a mistake anywhere, please be polite in your corrections.

Notes:

*A bit of Shinsou-Critical which may come off as anti-Shinsou (it’s not, but some people are sensitive.)

*Small bits of Aizawa Defense

*Spoilers for Vigilantes and the Main Series

*Bakagou critical (Yeah, somehow he slipped in.)

*Take it with a grain of salt

*Bad language

*images

*Again, very hurried so not as detailed as I would like

Basically, this is just me explaining why Shinsou doesn’t appeal to me. I’m not trashing Shinsou or anyone that likes him, these are just my thoughts. The gist is that he’s not a bad flavor, just not one I care for.

I’ll go into another post about why I love canon Aizawa later when I have the time, but this one is about my issues with Shinsou currently.

Before we dive in, a few things I think you might have misunderstood;

1: Neither are insomniacs. Insomnia means you have trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, or getting good-quality sleep, but that’s not the case here.

Aizawa has zero issues falling asleep. In fact, if SB is canon he can do so very well and instantly. In the same chapter, he was able to stay asleep despite Mic shaking him. He only woke up when his boss came in. The only reason he doesn’t get “quality sleep” is that he’s always working, either as a hero or as a teacher. He only sleeps out of necessity as his eyes need to rest work (along with the rest of him).

Shinsou just has bags under his eyes which could just be from iron deficiency. (I have permanent bags under my eyes and I have a decent sleep schedule.) We have never seen anything to hint that he can’t sleep or is even tired.

2: I think any quirk can be overpowered depending on circumstances but whatever.

3: I disagree. Shinsou is definitely arrogant in his own way, but Aizawa isn’t. He comes off as being so at times but is more than willing to humble himself. One of the reasons that I like Aizawa so much is that he is more than willing to admit his mistakes and flaws and then works on his own to overcome them. Aizawa has even admitted that he admires people like All Might a few times. Speaking of which;

4: Aizawa doesn’t hate flashy heroes, nor has he once stated that being an underground hero is better. He respects All Might as a hero he just doesn’t agree with his teaching methods. At most he doesn’t understand the idea of needing to bother with interviews and such, but not seeing eye to eye and looking down are two different things.

5: Never once has he stated that being underground is better.

6: When he insults people with flashy quirks, he’s not insulting the quirk, but the person. All he’s ever said on the subject was that UA’s entrance exam was unfair, which EVERYONE online has agreed with.

And Shinsou doesn’t look down on flashy quirks. HIS quirk is flashy. The only issue is that it’s non-combative and it’s associated with villains. Shinsou’s only bitter that it’s non-combative and tries to tear others down because of his insecurities. That’s not looking down, it’s being jealous. If you want to see how it looks to look down on non-flashy quirks, look to Bakagou who looked down on everyone except Todoroki.

Okay with all that out of the way, let’s get to why we’re here; I like Aizawa and not Shinsou for a few reasons.

First, is that Aizawa, even when he was disadvantaged, never blamed the world for his weaknesses or shortcomings.

He actively worked hard and trained, even before Oboro died. He knew he had weaknesses and while he would bemoan them, Aizawa always did his best to improve. (Actually, Aizawa is a lot more like Tamaki than Shinsou, in that respect, but I digress.) Again, Aizawa trained himself AND he got himself a weapon that worked six years to master.

Shinsou is willing to humble himself later in the manga, however, he did very little on his own. He wanted to get into UA, so submitted a form to general studies and waited for the sports festival. That’s it. He didn’t train, he didn’t study combat or anything to overcome a weakness the entrance exams would have made very clear to him. And even at the sports festival, he relied on the strength of others to get him through it, then complained that the world was against him (we’ll get to that).

That’s not a failing as Izuku was the same before he met All Might. I’m not saying that it’s a flaw that Shinsou did nothing himself.

However, I am saying this is a point for why I like Aizawa over him as I like people who recognize their weaknesses and try to overcome them. He has low self-esteem but he tries. When he was a teen he saw that he had a disadvantage in combat and became a decent brawler and even taught himself to use a very complicated weapon. He saw a flaw in himself and works to overcome it (except for the smiling thing, but oh well).

The next Aizawa never tries to tear people down to make himself look better. He doesn’t actively look to cause a fight or hurt others.

Aizawa was kind even to people who tried to tear him down. (I’m not calling Laser eyes a bully as there’s a big difference between being a bully and being a jerk.) Even after laser eyes insults him and calls him useless--

--Aizawa acts like the bigger person and extends his hand twice by letting him keep the sunglasses he liked--

and then by offering advice on how he could improve.

At first, Shinsou reminded me of Bakagou, in that he looked down on everyone around him. (Again, he got better later on, but for nearly a hundred chapters this was my main impression of him.) True, he didn't insult them, but it came off that he was looking down on them as he had people carry him like slaves.

(Here, he may be thanking them, but that smirk makes it clear it's not sincere.)

Yes, Aizawa’s rude as well and can come off as a jerk but that’s because he’s blunt. He’s not purposely being an ass to stomp over others. And on the occasions, he is an “asshole” it’s with the intent of helping others (or in the case of Hizashi, playful fun).

The worst thing he does is put a black mark of expulsion on student records and yes. It is VERY extreme but at the same time, we’re kinda forgetting something. See, here’s the thing;

Aizawa is training these kids to fight villains.

They can’t afford to fool around as one single mistake can and will cost lives, either theirs or others. The black mark makes it clear that they’ve got no choice but to improve. And Aizawa doesn’t throw them to the wolves. He does what he can to help them become better (when plot armor doesn’t get in the way). Hell, he remained loyal to the traitor despite that latter setting up Class 1-A to get killed twice. It’s very clear that the expulsion and the black marks are scare tactics. We have seen any evidence of his actions ruining anyone’s life. In fact, we see that the scare tactic actually worked a few times.

In chapter 6 we see that scaring Izuku with the thought of expulsion forced him to figure out how to use his quirk without wrecking his entire body at once like he did the first time using his quirk. And even then, Aizawa wasn’t an ass for the sake of bullying his student like Snape would. He explained to Midoriya why what he was doing was stupid and why that wouldn’t fly in the future.

“But threatened to expel Izuku for not controlling a quirk he only had for two months!” Aizawa was locked out of the loop and didn’t know that. As far as he knew, Izuku had his quirk his whole life. Everyone likes to point out that because of the law there’s no way to properly train quirks but students like Bakagou, Todoroki, and Ochako have full control of their quirks along with the rest of the students. Later in the series—in Tamaki’s flashback—we see that students do get training for their training. Further evidence is that we’ve never seen one person in the world not know how to properly use their quirk. (Morally is another story.) Therefore, from his POV, there was no excuse that Izuku shouldn’t have control either.

Moving on, all of that was to show that his most jackass actions are not for the sake of being an asshole, it’s actually to help. And you know what? The expel threat and the black marks do help.

It made the rest of the students of Class-A put their best foot forward on the quirk assessment so he could see where everyone’s starting point is. Then there’s a scene where a student states that it scared his previous class into doing better and helped them to grow. So, again, while it’s extreme, we’ve seen that it works.

The bottom line, when Aizawa is an asshole, it’s with the intent to help others. When Shinsou does it, it’s to help himself.

And I do understand that Shinsou does this because a) that’s the best way to use his quirk and b) he has severe low self-esteem in himself.

He truly seems to believe that everyone thinks of him as a villain because of his quirk. (They don’t. They just don’t like it when he uses their quirk on them, something Shinsou very much enjoys doing.)

And I do sympathize with him on that, believe it or not, but that doesn’t mean I like his attitude. Maybe if he was called out and forced to grow out of this I would be more endeared but still.

But to be fair, we do see him act better after the sports festival as he is grateful to work with the others. He’s even mostly polite. Shinsou even admits that he does want to help others and we see that when he helps Izuku, who has lost control of his quirk.

We also see that Aizawa cares for his students and fellow teachers. We see him make friends with former criminals.

We only get a glimpse of this with Shinsou in School briefs, which I’m not sure how much to take as canon as it’s written by Anri Yoshi and not Kohei Horikoshi, but let’s assume it has the Star Wars canon logic (before Disney got a hold of it) and say that it’s canon because it got his stamp of approval.

In School Briefs, Shinsou is kind, thoughtful, and considerate towards his classmates. He even admits guilt for the effect his actions had on Ojiro, whom he brainwashed without consent.

What annoys me about him though, is his writing.

He is always going on and on about how everyone looks down on him and his quirk but we see the opposite.

Shinsou is overly praised for everything he does and no one has ever said anything bad about him or his quirk. They’ve only said that the quirk is usually associated with villains and not to use it on them. Oh, and that Shinsou could force people to do things for him. It’s thoughtless and insensitive but no malice was intended.

And I’ll throw him a bone and say that Shinsou internalized these comments to the point where he cannot believe people’s compliments. It’s still annoying.

To me, it’s like a woman bemoaning she’s ugly when she looks like a model and has everyone telling her, “Wow! You’re gorgeous.”

And you know what? From a storytelling point, it’s a waste! Shinsou could have been used to explore how people can be prejudiced against quirks. And it’s really simple to do this;

1: At the sports festival have some of the heroes make comments about how questionable his quirk is.

2: In his flashbacks actually have people say bad things about him and call him a villain, or have him overhear conversations.

3: Or—if you want to have an arc where Shinsou just internalized ill-thought words—have him come to realize that he was mistaken.

It really was that easy for the bare minimum. As is, we just have Shinsou’s perception which, when you look at the evidence, shows that he’s wrong about what people think.

He could also be shown struggling with the moral implications of his quirk; true it’s cool and powerful, but it involves taking away someone’s free will and at times affects their memory. Even if he doesn’t see it as a big deal, others obviously do. Why not explore it? See how he handles this, how he comes to terms? Maybe use it to develop Ojiro as well, as he was the one most affected by Shinsou. Have them debate and explain their sides where Ojiro points out the shittiness of using others without their consent and forcing them to do things against their will while Shinsou states that’s how his quirk works, then find a middle ground.

As is, we’re told that Shinsou was told that he couldn’t be a hero with his quirk, but we constantly see otherwise. Again, the only person who gets more narrative dick-sucking is Bakagou. And even with Bakagou, we see him get humbled here and there. (For two seconds, but I digress.)

Plus, Shinny’s personality is basically just copied and pasted. He’s a mini-zawa with a slightly different backstory and a bit more arrogance. And yes. Despite his low self-esteem, Shinsou is arrogant and prideful. (True, this is mostly at the sports festival where his arc starts.)

Look how he uses his quirk; he has others carry him around like a king. This isn’t bad and I like that he is one of the few to stand up to Bakagou. (I wanted them to fight and have Shinsou win, which would have been good for both arcs, but I digress.)

I just prefer Aizawa’s personality with Aizawa, who I see more of and whose backstory and character I like. He’s also not a one-note character, Shinsou is.

Aizawa is a strict teacher but he loves his students and wants to help them in his own way. He’s also a tsundere friend to Mic and Midnight. His relationship with Shirakumo is heartbreaking as he was the one who always inspired him and now he’s a brainwashed corpse.

Aizawa is a hero who stops to help people even on his days off and uses villain fights to get out of events he doesn’t care about. He made friends with low-collar criminals and had them make him so much coffee, he inspired them to open a cat cafe. The list goes on.

Shinsou is just a one-note character. He wants to be a hero but struggles because externally he’s no good at combat and internally he’s got the idea that everyone thinks his quirk is villainous to the point he can’t believe anyone who tells him otherwise (even when it’s LITERALLY everybody). Which is compelling I grant you, but what else? Who's his best friend? What food does he like? Why does he have bags under his eyes and what's up with his hair? Shouta looks like a hobo because he doesn’t think it's rational to waste energy on personal upkeep, what’s Shinsou’s excuse?

This is why Shinsou is a favorite for fanfiction. He has a setup for a tragic backstory that people can have fun with, he has a canon connection to a fan favorite, his past is mostly blank, and family is never mentioned, and his personality is basic enough that writers can add whatever they want to fit the story. But for me, why go for the bland diet version when I can have the more rounded original?

And finally, here are a few very pretty reasons;

1: I don’t like his design. The color of his hair is nice but that’s it.

2: He has angsty teen vibes where he acts “oh, no one likes me!” when everyone is praising him more than Narcissist did his own reflection and people are literally throwing themselves at him to sing praises. And no. The fact he’s literally a teen doesn’t help.

3: And the pettiest reason I don’t like him; he is always shoved in my face. (I told you it was petty, but this is an opinion piece so fuck it! :p)

Everyone and their mother has decided that Shinsou is Aizawa’s son which is annoying. I already don’t like the character, so having him forced in my face is grating. But he’s everywhere because people like the potential of his character. And to be fair, there is a lot of potential. Like Ari, he is good fanfic material. I just don’t like him enough to explore it.

I mean it, I filter every tag I can with them and these fuckers will still show up. I can’t tell you how annoying it is to really get into a fanfic only to have these guys suddenly thrown in. It’s like eating a really good meal only to find a fly in it. Maybe it won’t ruin the meal but it’s not as enjoyable as it was before. (Sorry, small rant.)

It didn’t help that I was getting the face full of Shinny when I was doing the first read and still had the SF impression of him where he reminded me of an Emo version of Bakagou who I REALLY dislike.

His relationship with Shouta doesn’t appeal to me either. Again, there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just we didn’t get to see too much of them interacting and the scenes where they did weren’t much different than the ones with his other students. And there’s not enough contrast in their personalities to set up potential interesting interactions if that makes sense. They’re too much alike to be fun for me and the things that separate them aren’t enough. Yet, in 90% of fanfics, there he is, written as a poor woobie child who needs daddy Aizawa to love him (shut up internet, you know what I mean). I just can’t stand him anymore mostly because of that. (Fanon Shinsou is the worst for me because I know what he’s actually like in the manga.)

Bottom line;

Aizawa is a well-rounded character with virtues and flaws. He struggles with having a non-combative quirk but instead of just blaming the world for being unfair, he works to overcome his weaknesses, earning the admiration of his friends. He’s blunt and rude, but he’s also kind. As a teacher, he’s super strict and merciless, but also forgiving as sin. Why hasn’t he expelled Bakagou or Mineta? He wants to help them get better (not that he takes action to do so but I digress). He’s also more than a one-note character.

Shinsou is very one noted and—mostly due to lack of screen time—relies on exposition for character development. He’s rude and arrogant, and because of his low self-esteem wants to drag others down. He uses his quirk on others without consent even though his quirk requires taking away someone’s free will, then treats them like slaves under his control. Then when they mention that the quirk made them uncomfortable, he blows it off. He also comes off as someone with a victim mentality. He’s always claiming that everyone thinks his quirk is evil but the majority of the scenes show the opposite. People overpraise his quirk. Now, I’m sure he doesn’t have this but it comes off that way.

Shinsou’s writing annoys me and he just doesn’t appeal to me as a character.

I have Shouta who’s a lot better and more fulfilling emotionally. Why do I need his less-developed clone? It didn’t help that due to his lack of screen time, his first impression of the sports festival is what stuck in my mind for the longest time before we got to see him grow up a little and we didn’t even see that development.

Again, it all comes down to personal tastes and I hope I explained this well. I did this all in a rush and luckily I had some images on standby for other characters.

#anti shinsou hitoshi #anti hitoshi shinsou #Shinsou critical #bakugou critical #mha aizawa #Aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #I should have gone with a shorter answer but here we are #Shinsou may not be a bad character but I do not like him #Shouta on the other hand #while not perfect is great and I love him #bnha #mha #bnha meta #take with a grain of salt #written in a rush #mine #meta issues #long post

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carlisles-girl · 3 years ago

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OMG UR CAIUS FIC WAS SO GOOD COULD YOU DO SOMETHING AB ARO PLEASE

a/n: Thank you so much! I’m very excited to write for Aro, he’s one of my favourite characters, more so because of Michael Sheen’s performance. I put a slight reference to something in this, you might catch it if you know other projects Michael Sheen has been in, but you might not, and that’s alright. Hope you enjoy <3

another a/n: I did put one or two feminine terms in this work, such as ‘mia regina’ which is ‘my queen’ in Italian, so do skip over it or replace it with something else if you’d like. I love writing this type of material in the middle of my classes, it adds so much adrenaline to not get caught.

Aro Volturi With A Human Mate

Instead of being angry and frustrated like Caius, Aro was more excited.

Like as if he was getting ready for a big party.

A human for a mate was inevitable for some vampires, of course, but Aro didn’t expect to be included in the some.

He was excited since it was rare for such high profile vampires to socialize with humans.

Aro often gushed to his brothers, excited to meet you, but also for them to meet you.

He wanted to host a ball for your welcome.

But Marcus noted that it would probably be slightly frightening for you to be in a room full of vampires.

Most of the vampires would look at you as if you were some sort of a snack.

Because it Marcus’ comment, Aro assumed it would be a greater choice to send an invitation to a tour of the castle.

Free of cost, of course.

When you had received the invitation, you were beyond excited.

An invitation to a tour of an ancient castle with endless legends, for free?

Absolutely.

The tour was the next day, so of course you were slightly nervous.

When the tour commenced, a very pretty woman named Heidi lead the tour group.

She began to speak of secrets of the castle, as well as secret corridors and legends.

Some things a normal tour guide would most likely have no idea about.

Heidi then looked in your direction, and smiled brightly at you.

“It’s very lovely here. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

Just when she had finished her sentence, she opened the doors where there were three men sitting in thrones, and what seemed to be 4 guards.

The man who sat in the middle, greeted everyone and began speaking greatly of the castle.

He had only stopped when he motioned for your tour guide, Heidi, to come forward.

She did as told, and held her hand out towards him.

You would have thought it was to greet him, but it seemed like he was concentrated, or zoned out.

“Magnifico! I will get Demetri to escort them.” (Translation: “Magnificent! I will get Demetri to escort them.”

A man who you assumed was Demetri, walked in your direction.

“Come with me, all will be alright, rest assured. However, do not look behind you.”

You went with him, doing as he said, but immediately turned around when the rest of the tour began screaming.

“What the hell was that?!”

Demetri just grabbed your wrist and brought you upstairs.

“Just stay in here, I’ve been instructed to keep you under my eye. Aro will explain everything to you.”

“Aro?”

“The man who sat in the middle throne.”

You nodded, and decided to sit on one of the window seats.

You wanted to ask Demetri as many questions as you wanted to, but you didn’t want to bother him, or disrupt him from his job.

When the door had opened and Demetri bid his farewells, you had turned around and saw Aro.

“You must be Y/n, correct?”

“Yeah, and you’re Aro?”

“I am, I assume you have a good amount of questions?”

You nodded, and Aro moved swiftly but smoothly towards the opposite side of the window seat.

“May I?”

“Of course.”

He sat opposite to you, and smiled slightly at you.

“There’s no need to be afraid of me, or the others. You’re the most safe you could ever be in the castle. I promise you, I will keep you safe.”

“May I ask why the rest of the tourists were screaming when I left?”

“I sense that that question should be answered later, appropriately.”

You were slightly frightened as to what the final answer would be, it could be anything.

Perhaps there was a reenactment of the past after you had been escorted, one of the tourists got pushed and the rest screamed since one of them fell, or the worst:

They were murdered.

“I feel like I already know what happened.”

“I sense that you do know, too. I will tell you everything in a moment. But for now, would you care to lend me your hand?”

You trusted Aro, though you were positive your ancestors were screaming from above or below not to trust him.

You held your hand out in front of him, and before he held your hand in his own, he asked for permission or something else.

“I want you to think of the happiest memory you have stored in your mind, I will describe it to you. I will not see anything else besides the things you want to show me, unless I have your permission.”

You thought of a memory, and then placed your hand in Aro’s palm.

He covered the back of your hand with the palm of his other hand, then he began telling you small details of your chosen memories you had even forgotten about.

When he was finished, he brought his head up from looking down, and smiled at your face of bewilderment.

“That is so cool! Is that like your superhero power?”

Aro smiled widely at your interest in his gift, and began explaining what his was.

“I have a gift, it’s called tactile telepathy. I can read everyone’s thoughts and memories with a single touch. The others in this coven have multiple different gifts, they help keep us safe.”

“So you’re all like superheroes?”

“Vampires, darling.”

After that, Aro enjoyed seeing your memories whenever you two were apart for some sort of time.

Especially say you were having a difficult time attempting to explain something to him, he would hold your hand and immediately understand what you were trying to say.

“I understand you, cara mia. I always will.”

And he was right, he understands you in every way possible.

Aro memorized your body language on how you react to different things, as well as your facial expressions.

When you’re uncomfortable with something, he will do absolutely everything in his power to make you comfortable.

Aro will burn down the entire world for you.

When it’s time for you to go to sleep, you best believe that Aro set up the most lavish and comfortable room for you.

The best and most comfortable bed, of course.

You lay down on his chest, and he brushes the hair out of your face, admiring your tired eyes looking back at him.

“Would you like for me to read to you, dearest?”

You nodded your head, and Aro would get up from wherever he was seated, swiftly retrieve a book, lay back down next to you, and begin reading.

He loved having you hold his hand while he read, it lets him see what you’re imagining the scene that he’s reading to you.

And when you fell asleep while he was reading, he would be so very content.

You curled up next to him, sound asleep on his chest.

Aro adored seeing what you were dreaming.

He loved how humans brains worked while they were sleeping, keeping your mind entertained with multiple little scenarios.

When you woke up, however, Aro would prefer to have you describe your dreams, if you remembered them.

He loved to learn more about humans, especially in the modern age.

And you loved to learn more about vampires, especially in the ancient times.

Aro would often tell you stories of each coven he encountered, his old family and friends, and his past human life.

As much as he wants you to be changed into a vampire like the rest, he can’t help but smile whenever you got slightly nervous around him, stuttering over your words, and hiding your face with your hands out of embarrassment.

He pays attention to little details about you.

Especially your eyes.

Even the shade of your eyes stops him from changing you. Your eyes wouldn’t be as unique anymore, they’d be the same red as everyone else’s.

“You have the most magnificent shade of colour in your eyes, mia regina. I simply cannot get enough of them.”

Being absolute best friends with Demetri.

But wherever Demetri was, Felix wasn’t too far behind.

You three are like a troublemaker trio, always causing trouble and pulling pranks on different members of the guard.

Never Jane or Alec, though. Unless it was a scheduled board game night or something along the lines.

Which Alec loved to take away different players senses, allowing him to cheat in the games you’d play.

He doesn’t do it all the time, though.

Marcus was a lot more welcoming towards you, perhaps more than anyone else.

Whenever Aro couldn’t, he’d show you different areas of the castle you hadn’t seen yet, and would give you wonderful pieces of advice along the way.

“Remember to stay true to yourself, never let anyone think for you.”

Aro will spoil you insanely.

If you mention a specific piece of clothing even once, you better expect that when you wake up the next morning, Aro has an elegantly wrapped package placed at the foot of your bed with a note written in fine handwriting.

“Mia amato, I have seen you speak of this article of fabric, and I have gone out of my way to make sure you have every little thing you admire. I need you to be the happiest you can possibly be. Please accept my gift, and meet me by the gardens by noon. I’ll see you then. Cordialmente, Aro.”

You two have annual walks throughout the garden, usually during golden hour. The sun still above, but setting at the same time, making it seem like Aro was made of a trillion Tiffany Yellow Diamonds.

He loved finding a flower that suited your mood for the day, and putting it behind your ear.

“My beautiful.”

You two often walked either arm in arm, or hand in hand, but sometimes you would hold him closer with your arm wrapped around his waist, your head leaning on his side or shoulder.

Often times, when the moon is visible, you would slow dance together, looking at each other with smiles on your faces, just appreciating each other’s presence.

Usually, Aro would come back into the castle around 2 in the morning, carrying your sleeping self up to your shared room, after you had fallen asleep on his shoulder while sitting in the garden.

The rest of the kings and guards would be predominantly more happy than from before you had arrived.

You had given Aro something to look forward to after trials and mountains of work, something he didn’t have for hundreds of years.

Though, Caius was still slightly jealous of you.

You had practically stolen one, if the not the most, needed member of the vampire world. Aro was nearly as focused on you than he was on trials and legislature.

He’d warm up to you eventually.

At least, you hoped.

Speaking of trials, you wanted to sit in and watch the trials, to see what it was about, and how it worked.

You knew the most of it, of course, Aro had already told you. But you wanted to see it live.

Aro was quick to say no, he didn’t want you to get hurt, or worse, killed.

He understood what would happen to him if his mate was killed, Marcus was the example. He couldn’t even bear the thought of you not being by his side.

Though, you owning the key to his heart, convinced him to let you watch, letting both Jane and Alec stay on either side of you, protecting you if anything were to go wrong.

You would usually sit on Aro’s lap, and then the throne when he had to see what was truly going on by using his gift.

Jane usually stood on the left of the throne, and Alec on the right.

Mainly since Caius sat on the throne in the left, and Jane loved to torture the criminals.

He loved the front seat view.

Constant look backs of reassurance to make sure that you’re alright.

Nearly always having your hand in his.

Forehead kisses.

Constantly bringing the back of your hand up to his lips.

Getting the absolute best care in the world, health wise especially.

When Aro proposed, it was in the bedroom the both of you share, and he was reading some poetry to you.

All was going swell, and then he got to one page.

“I can write no stately poem

As a prelude to my lay;

From a poet to a poem

I would dare to say.

For if of these fallen petals

One to you seem fair

Love will waft it till it settles

On your hair.

And when wind and winter harden

All the loveless land.

It will whisper of the garden,

You will understand.”

At the end, you were leaned up closer to him, looking at him in awe.

He closed the book, and placed it aside gracefully, before leaning slightly closer to you. Placing his hands overs yours.

“Do you remember who wrote that, cara mia?”

“I do. That’s Oscar Wilde, right?”

“That’s right. There’s so much I want to say to you, especially in this particular moment, but I don’t think there’s enough words to express my love and affection towards you. I’ve known you for a little while, and I can feel the bond between us, and I know you can feel it, too. The universe has guided us together, and I am so very thankful for every second we have spent together, and I’m even more thankful for the rest of eternity we have. However, I am the most thankful of the fact that I have the most gorgeous human as a mate. I love you so much, anima mia. Will you do me the best thing that could ever happen to me in my thousands of years, and marry me?”

You said yes, obviously, who wouldn’t?

You leaned over to press your lips against his, as he held one side of your face with one hand, and the other hand slid a ring on your ring finger.

While Aro wanted an extremely lavish wedding, with all the diamonds in the world, you wanted something more of a homely essence.

So you compromised, and had a bit of both.

Aro invited nearly every vampire to the wedding, wanting to show you off in every way he could.

The Denali’s, Cullens, Irish coven, everyone was invited.

Except for the Romanian coven, Vladimir and Stefan. Not trusting them to be in your presence.

The wedding was held in the garden, the arch where Aro stood had your favourite flowers intertwining around it, with diamonds pressed in the centre of each individual flower.

Demetri walked you down the isle, smiling proudly when he handed you over to Aro.

Proud that his leader had finally found true love, and that one of his best friends is finally where they need to be.

After the official wedding ceremony, the rest of the night and day were spent smiling and showing off each other to the guests.

When the night ended, it was finally time for you to be changed to a vampire.

Aro sat by the bed were sitting on, making sure that you were absolutely ready to be converted to a vampire for the rest of eternity.

“Are you ready, my darling?”

You nodded your head, and Aro took one final look into your coloured eyes, attempting to remember every small detail of them.

Aro then moved your hair away from your neck, before placing his lips over where he would finally bite down and turn you immortal.

“Just say when, and I’ll see you after.”

#twilight x reader #twilight preferences #twilight #twilight imagine #aro volturi #aro twilight #volturi preferences #volturi kings #aro #volturi #aro volturi imagine #aro volturi x reader #aro volturi oneshot #twilight aro #volturi oneshot #volturi imagine

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

love letter, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook gets love letters shoved in his mailbox and under his apartment door all the damn time. You, too, get love letters shoved in your mailbox and under your door. All the time. It could be a sweet gesture, but this is the twenty-first century. Love letters aren't all they're cracked up to be.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; short graphic descriptions of sex acts; smut (fem reader, a very intense make-out session including some wild tongue and too much saliva, nipple play, a bit of m-receiving oral, cowgirl, handjob); non-idol!BTS – technically university, blond, softsub!Jungkook x working, softdom!reader; slightly desperate and needy JK

yes, yes, it’s MTV Unplugged ‘Telepathy’JK

"I'm so tired of people thinking they have a chance with me."

Was the exasperated declaration as you backed up into your apartment, only to turn around and witness Jeon Jungkook dumping a waterfall of colorful envelopes from his giant black backpack onto your hardwood floor.

"At least remove your shoes before you start flaunting how hot you are," you replied dryly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes as he kicked off his large white sneakers. "Look at this shit! It's relentless! It's annoying! I just want to live my life!"

You vaguely recalled Jungkook being excited about his first love letter upon reaching university, and then the second, the third... and now you were staring at pile number five hundred on your doormat. "I don't know, put a sign on your door? 'Please stop, the answer is no?'"

Jungkook winced. "I can't do that. How many hearts am I going to break?"

"Uh, I dunno, you already broke half the campus by existing in general."

He bonked you on the head lightly with his denim jacket sleeve. "I have not. I've only slept with a couple people and that was supposed to be no strings attached."

You shrugged. "People can't understand that. Especially women."

He puffed his cheeks and stepped over the pile. You noticed the small stickers and nice handwriting on the colorful pastel paper. You almost felt bad, seeing all the effort put into them.

"At least they're cute. I only get torn notebook pages with scribbles."

"Stop lying. You get girls' letters too," Jungkook grumbled. "Can I borrow your computer? One of my professors assigned an online quiz and the internet at my place is down, again."

"You gotta move," you commented, kneeling down to collect the mess Jungkook made. You noticed Jungkook flit his eyes about before throwing up his hands and bending down to help you.

"I'm trying to get out of the lease, but I have a couple more months left," he complained childishly.

"What about your other friends? Can't you go bother them?"

Jungkook frowned, sticking out his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath winked at you. "You hate me now or something?"

You laughed, standing up with a stacked pile of confessions to Jeon Jungkook. "No, I'm just curious as to why you always come here."

He shoved the rest in your arms, his pile slightly messier than yours. "You live the closest and you're usually home. Plus, you have two computers."

"A laptop and a desktop," you corrected. "Don't you have a laptop?"

"It's easier to borrow yours."

"Lazy."

Jungkook ignored your remark and ticked his silvery-blond head further into the apartment. "Can I borrow it or not?"

You laughed. "Of course. Laptop's on the bed."

He turned and followed the hallway to your bedroom. "Same password?" he yelled, not looking back.

"Obviously."

"Why is it my birth date?" he shouted.

"Because, one, no one will guess it, and, two, you're a dumbass and always forget it."

"I do not!"

"How many times did you ask when the password was Klingon?"

"I don't know your nerdy shit!"

"Do your fucking assignment," you belted down the hall.

Jungkook stuck his head out of your bedroom door and scrunched his nose to make a hideous face at you, holding your gunmetal-colored laptop. You rolled your eyes as he disappeared again. This crackhead. You let out a sigh, walking past the acrylic painting of a blue sky with pink-purple clouds hanging in your living room, flicking through at all the letters addressed to Jungkook.

Surprisingly, you knew what he felt like. With you, it started with inviting one guy over to your place, sucking his dick, and then suddenly a letter appeared. Well, letter was putting it nicely. Dirty napkin with words scrawled with smeared ballpoint pen shoved under your door, explicitly asking for more. Then another, wanting it. Then another, begging for it. You ignored them. At some point, you invited a girl over, ate her out, and then the colorful envelopes started appearing, with cute stickers and neat handwriting.

Mmmhmm.

Why did Jungkook bring them here anyway? To brag? For you to peruse? You spread them out them on your coffee table and tore one open. Read it. Simple confession of love, no name. You were kind of jealous. Jungkook always got nicer ones than you did. Something about being a sexually uninhibited woman seemed to translate to others that you were down to fuck anyone, anytime, anything. You tossed the letter aside, ripped open a folded card closed with lilac tape. Another, 'I love you, please go out with me', no name. Toss. And you opened another one, reading out loud.

"I want to cram all one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters of you into me?”

Uh.

Huh.

Still no name.

Cute peach stationery though.

Was it a euphemism? Symbolic? Thinly veiled code? Hm. In any case, this was more along the lines of shamelessness you encountered yourself.

By all conventions, Jeon Jungkook was attractive as fuck. Pretty pink lips, big brown eyes, manly sharp jawline. He kept his hair on the longer side, around ear length, now silvery-blond compared to the usual black. You heard he dyed it a couple times, but now it had since faded to the original blond.

Oh, yeah, also he had nice hands and a body to die for.

You could see why Jungkook got all these love letters. You? Well, similar reasons, except less muscles. Also, yours weren't really love letters. More like vulgar remarks on the backs of grubby receipts.

Probably just as heartfelt.

The only reason you knew of Jungkook was because you were friends with one of his close friends. Alright, maybe you sucked his friend's dick. More than once. But anyway, not the point. The point was that the topic of love letters came up one night when everyone was hanging out and you voiced your predicament. It was the summer before Jungkook entered university. He had burst out laughing, thinking it was a hilarious situation.

"Haha, that would never happen to me!"

Jokes on you, Jungkook, karma's a bitch.

You thought about moving, but the location was close to your work and the internet service was great here. At least you always recycled the paper. What were you supposed to do? Keep an album of Starbucks napkins of people asking if your tongue was good or not?

You opened another envelope addressed to 'sweet, adorable Jungkookie'.

Their words, not yours.

"Shove your dick down my throat and make me gag? Smiley face?"

Well, that's a contrast.

Jungkook didn't start contacting you on his own until the letters started coming and then they didn’t stop coming, flooding his mailbox and underneath his door, overwhelming and confusing him. He didn't think he would get much attention, although perhaps it might be your fault, since you seemed to have set the precedence for this type of thing at this particular university. There was at least one person in every year that got this treatment, and it all started with one dirty napkin with smeared ink. Rumor caught on and then bam! It became a thing.

So, yeah.

Maybe kind of your fault.

You shouldn't have told so many people about that napkin.

You fished out a pizza receipt from the pile, inspecting it. You couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Then you noticed it had Jungkook's phone number and an order of three pizzas. Not a confession, just trash from Jungkook's backpack. Did he really eat three pizzas? Hopefully not by himself and in one sitting. You noticed the timestamp. Mmm, three in the morning. Okay. Maybe he did eat three pizzas by himself in one sitting.

You filed through the rest, removing trash from the recyclable paper. Paused when you found a scrap of paper that said, "Put your dick in my ass." You recognized this curvy, narrow handwriting, slightly heavy-handed. Same person wrote you the same note this week.

This was why you didn't take the messages too seriously.

You saw a particularly thick purple envelope and picked it up, tearing it open. It was several pages, with tiny, crammed handwriting on paper with cute bunnies on it. Several pages detailing straight up porn with Jungkook as the leading role.

You almost burst out laughing.

Who the fuck would write this?

And send it to him?

Not you, that's for fucking sure.

Still, it wasn't the worst thing you've ever read. Had some spelling mistakes and poor grammar. Instant turn-off. Needed a good proofread. You settled onto your brown leather couch, highly entertained as you read it. Then you actually burst out laughing, because said person wanted Jungkook to lift them and fuck them at the same time and that kinda shit just wasn't possible. You would know, because you’ve tried. It sounded good, but in practice, the dick ended up falling out pretty quickly if the pussy was any sort of wet.

If you weren’t wet, then, eh, not sure why you're fucking.

"What is so fucking funny?" Jungkook grumbled, poking his head around the corner, still holding your laptop.

You held up the sheets of bunny-printed paper, still laughing. "Someone sent you their written erotica and you're the star!"

Jungkook grimaced. "Oh yeah, that person. They write something new every week. It's weird." He frowned. "I try to take it out so you don't have to read that shit. I must have missed it."

"It's hilarious," you chuckled. "You should publish them into a book."

"You know I can't do that," Jungkook sighed, putting your laptop on the coffee table and snatching the pages from you. "I throw them away like everything else."

"Did you finish your assignment?" you chortled, leaning over to look at the laptop screen. Submission successful. "80%?! When you could easily cheat?"

"I read a question wrong," Jungkook whined, balling up the paper and throwing it down. "Ack."

You looked up at him and he was looking upset at the pile on the table.

"What's wrong?"

"What if one of them is real?"

"Huh?"

"I mean... I just throw them away now. But what if one of them is real?" Jungkook wondered out loud.

You shrugged. "Does it matter? They'll tell you in person if it's that important."

Jungkook tilted his head at you doubtfully. "Will they?"

You sat back into your couch, with your legs wide open. You were wearing sleek black leggings and a cropped pink sweatshirt. Not the most ladylike pose, but you didn't really care. You gestured to the stack of letters on your wooden coffee table.

"They should. If they actually like you and it's not a joke, then they should tell you in person and accept that they might be rejected."

Jungkook frowned and slumped down next to you. His light-wash denim jacket made a loud floof as his ass hit the brown leather cushions. The wash of his jeans matched his jacket. He wore a white graphic t-shirt under. It looked vintage, but it probably wasn’t.

"What if they're nervous?" he questioned, twisting his pink lips around.

"So what? Everyone's nervous. We all live in a perpetual state of terror."

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

You leaned forward and plucked a sky-blue memo note from the table, reading it out loud. "I love you. Marry me." You held it out to him. "See? You get nice ones. I get, ‘choke me like you hate me’ and 'shove your tongue into my asshole, please'. Rarely do I get is that please at the end," you finished with a dry laugh. You looked up to see Jungkook staring back at you. Your laugh died a little seeing his serious expression.

"Yes."

You blinked at him. "What?"

Jungkook ticked his chin to the note, then shifted his eyes to you.

You pointed to the memo sheet and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't write this."

"I did."

He was so serious that you couldn't laugh. You just blinked at him rapidly and turned your head to look at the sky-blue memo sheet, finally recognizing the clean, block-like handwriting and spotting the bottom right corner. English letters. A J and a K fused together, the way Jungkook usually signed his paintings.

You dropped the note like it was on fire.

Jerked your head up, not to him, but to the painting across from you in the living room, the one with the blue sky and pink-purple clouds, with a tiny JK signature in black at the bottom right corner. The painting you asked Jungkook to make you a while back.

"You paint, right? I want something calm for my living room. I bought a canvas, so about this size. It's that cool?"

Jungkook had squinted his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I could draw a pretty big dick on it."

"This is for my living room, dumbass. And I said I wanted something calm."

"A flaccid dick then."

You turned your head back to Jungkook of now, who was wringing his hands on his thighs, wiping off his palms. He noticed you watching him and puffed one cheek before letting out a big sigh.

"I was... gonna leave it on your laptop," Jungkook mumbled, flapping a hand to the sky-blue note. "But I couldn't find it in my backpack, and then I realized one of the pockets was open, the one where I keep receipts... anyway I had put the note there, so I came out to see if it was in the pile... yup, there it is."

He sucked in his cheek and fell back against the leather sofa.

"Was a joke."

Jungkook's voice sounded hollow. Empty.

"... Ah." You tucked the tip of your tongue in your cheek.

"Not the greatest joke," he added flatly.

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. "Jokes that are insincere are bad jokes."

The black words glared back up at you, contrasting the pale azure paper. You picked up the memo sheet again. Turned to face him, holding it up next to Jungkook's head of silvery-blond hair. He pursed his lips and looked away from you, jaw clenched in nervousness.

"Just say it."

He puffed one cheek again. "It was a joke."

"Then why are you saying it in past tense?"

His brown orbs shifted from side to side before Jungkook tried to bolt out of his seat, only for you to slam a hand down on his shoulder and throw a leg over him, straddling his lap before pinning the note to his chest. He yelped sharply and looked up at you with huge, shaking irises.

In all your time knowing him, you never tried to sleep with Jungkook.

Never.

You jabbed the note into his white shirt and he gave you a terrified squeak in response.

You scrutinized his face, jaw slack, eyes wide, blond curls framing his chiseled cheekbones. One of your eyebrows raised, your voice calm and unfazed.

"Say it."

"You say it," Jungkook finally shot back, furrowing his brows, biting on his lip and mustering up the most indignant look he could produce at this very second. You didn’t react. He seemed to have forgotten you did, in fact, say it, although perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he meant.

You never tried to fuck Jungkook because he didn’t treat you as anything more than his primary source of internet when his own was down. Ah, and also his outlet for complaining about his love letter problem. And then there was that other little wrinkle, the unwritten societal rule one of sucking a guy's dick you're still friends with - don't suck his friends' dicks. Surefire way to fuck up a friendship, especially if the dude’s ego was fragile.

Jungkook’s friend was dating someone else now though. His ego couldn’t be that fragile.

You leaned forward and Jungkook's annoyed gaze faltered. He gulped and tried to shrink into your brown leather couch, as if he could somehow disappear under you.

"I love you," you stated clearly and firmly. You glanced at the slightly crumpled piece of blue paper before your eyes flickered back to his face. "Marry me."

Hah, the thing about rules with you was...

Fuck 'em.

Not actually.

Eh, not the point.

"Really?" Jungkook squeaked, voice cracking slightly.

Ah, right, the other reason you never tried to sex up Jungkook because he was a little bit of an idiot around you. But maybe this sky-blue note detailed the reason for it.

"Say it," you repeated crossly, poking him in the pecs. "Stop avoiding it."

You observed Jungkook swallow hard again, Adam’s apple bobbing. You furrowed your brows, tipping your head down so that your forehead was hovering over his, eyebrow cocked, gazing into trembling brown orbs. Why was he taking so long? He wrote the damn words. Were they really just a joke? Hmph, why were you even trying then?

That’s how everyone was.

Not putting any stock or thought into their fucking words.

You lifted your finger but Jungkook’s right hand, the one with tiny tattoos, suddenly darted in your view, grabbing your hand back and jamming your finger onto his chest again. His heartbeat raced under your fingertip, thud-thud-thud, rapid bass accenting the moment. Electrifying it.

“Don’t.”

Whisper so faint you frowned and closed even more distance between you two, picking up the scent of vanilla fabric softener and lush cotton. A little different than you, who used a blackberry and spiced vanilla perfume.

“I like this,” Jungkook breathed under you, chewing his lip anxiously. You could feel his warm breath tickling your lips and chin with how close you were. You could count his individual eyebrow hairs, even though the eyebrow product he used.

“I… really like this.”

He let go of your hand.

Now you raised both eyebrows.

You slowly uncurled your middle finger, landing it on his chest next to the index. You felt him shiver a little, lips parting. Straightened your ring finger, planting it down. His lashes lowered a little, brown orbs on your face, watching your reaction to him. You could count the moles on his face. The one on his nose. The one on his cheek. The one under his lower lip. The one on his neck. Your pinky slid onto his chest. A wispy moan left his lips, eyelids fluttering, blond strands floating around his head with the little rise and fall of his heavy, tense exhale.

Why is it your birth date?

Take a wild guess, dumbass.

Your fingers abruptly dug into his white t-shirt, crumpling the note and scrunching the graphic up in your fist. He inhaled sharply, head tipping back and lips nearing yours, a whine escaping his throat. You quirked an eyebrow, drawing back slightly, taking in the rich depth of his tan skin, the sensual line of his neck, up to his angular chin and his dangling silver earrings. All of it. His hands immediately came up to grab your wrist and forearm, ensuring you and himself that you wouldn’t let go, the tendons in your flexed wrist right against his large palm.

“Say it, Jungkook,” you demanded. “Say those words with your pretty pink tongue hanging out your mouth for me.”

You watched him obey immediately, tongue sliding out and touching his lower lip, brown eyes framed by his long lashes and hazy with lust.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathed, a little gargled with his tongue out. “Fucking marry me, please.”

Ah, you couldn't help it.

You smirked.

"What about all your admirers?" you murmured, twisting your fingers in his shirt, digging your nails into his chest. "You'll break all those poor hearts you’re worried about."

Those dark brown eyes told you they didn't give a single fuck.

"What about you?" he countered, closing his mouth a little to speak more clearly.

"Me?"

The definition of trouble?

Well, if you looked that up in a dictionary, there would definitely be a picture of you.

Jungkook’s lips parted once more, keen to submit to your wickedness, pink tongue slipping out again, shiny and glistening with saliva. Breathing shallowly, rubbing your wrist with his thumb, encouraging you to keep going.

Your lips curved into a treacherous smile.

"I'll break all the hearts to get to yours, Jungkook."

And then you licked his tongue.

A low moan bubbled from Jungkook's chest, his eyes rolling back and his hips bucking up, desperate for friction as the tip of your wet muscle glided over his warm softness, your spit dripping down his throat, listening to his moans turn into messy garbles of your name, begging you, pleading you, more, more, kiss me, please, and you hooked your tongue around his, gently nudging his jaw with your other hand. Knuckle to chin, tilting your head as your lips closed onto Jungkook's.

It was not a neat kiss.

There was spit running down his chin, dripping onto his neck and your skin, your lips roughly working his, tongues intertwined and making even more of a mess, you sucking forcefully to earn pained, delicious whines. Jungkook was far too turned on to attempt to glamorize it, cries a jumbled mess under your greedy mouth, but none of that mattered. The moment was sensual and dark, bodies speaking to each other through dopamine and adrenaline. Your hand released his shirt, breaking his grip, switching to burrowing your fingers into his soft blond hair and running your nails over his scalp, leaving lines of prickling pain to enhance your kiss.

"F-Fuck, oh fuck, yes..."

Your teeth caught his tongue, pulling back and forcing his head to follow. Jungkook made a pained noise, trapped in your embrace, whining as you took him to the brink. You released him swiftly and he snapped backward, blinking hard, trying to reorient himself, but it was impossible, your lips crashing down again, thrusting your tongue into his mouth aggressively, one eye open to witness his fucked-out state, pupils unfocused, long lashes quivering, moaning into your mouth and you inhaling it all, literally taking his breath away.

It started out with a kiss.

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss.

You dropped your lower half onto his crotch and Jungkook gasped, breaking the kiss, strings of spit breaking between you two. You smirked wickedly as you felt his hardness trying to escape its clothing jail, his large hands already on your thighs and hips, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric of your leggings, rocking you into him, desperately trying to get some stimulation.

"Please," he croaked, panting for breath, pulling himself up to sitting position, so easy and smooth, fuck, so sexy, and now Jungkook was in your face, pleas on the tip of his tongue pouring out, tempting you, wanting it.

"Please, wanna be yours so fucking bad, seeing all those fucking letters and notes you get, and it pisses me off, it's me, I want it to be me, I want to be yours and I'm telling you to your face."

Whisper achingly hot, deep voice soaked with longing, staring into your eyes with those shaking brown orbs, spinning with emotion like an unstable top, barely enough torque holding it in place and all it took was another spin to encourage it or a gust of rejection to topple it over.

"And you don't even care about mine, you think they're fucking funny, fuck, I can't stand it, let it be me, please..."

His hands running up your sides, grazing against your breasts, and now his hands were in your hair and yours were in his, bringing your face close, the crumpled sky-blue note right between your joined crotches, forgotten, witnessing the agonizing lust wound tightly in this embrace.

"Let it be me," Jungkook begged.

You licked your lips slowly, scarcely swiping against his. He shuddered, leaning into it, taking whatever crumbs you gave. His long fingers tensed in your hair, yours buried in the dark roots of his.

"You'll have to skip the marriage bit for now," you teased lightly. "I don't think my parents will appreciate you slapping down papers before you finish school."

Jungkook snickered, tucking his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "Can't they understand I have to snatch this ass as soon as possible to make people back off?"

Your hands slipped down to his jaw, fitting it in your palms, his silvery-blond stands wrapped around your fingertips. "They'll back off my door once they hear you screaming my name."

You leaned in, but Jungkook stopped you, brown orbs glittering with mischief to get in one more quip.

"I doubt it," he purred.

Yeah.

Jungkook was right.

Ah, well.

You seized his face and kissed him again, fuck, such malleable lips just pleading to be bitten by you, gazing up his nose and to his beautiful eyes, his soft skin in your hands, clenching his jaw under your power, letting you have it, letting you control it and him. You felt him scramble and throw his denim jacket off, dumping it onto your couch to cup your cheeks with his hands, sighing in satisfaction as you inhaled him. Your tongue lazily traced the outskirts of his lips, hearing the rattle of his beaded bracelets by your ears, amused, knowing they were his good luck charms.

"They bring good luck," he had answered when you saw them for the first time.

You remembered tilting your head at the wooden beads on his slim wrists. "You trying to get your dick sucked or something?"

He had broken out in a loud guffaw. Nudged you with his elbow, cheeky smile on his lips.

"Never gonna say no to getting my dick sucked."

"Mhm, cool, where's my painting of the flaccid dick?"

From then on, you noticed he wore the same wooden, beaded bracelets every time he came to your apartment.

Hmm.

Now, your hands falling from his face, yanking his shirt from his pants, annoyed it was getting caught, and then Jungkook fitted his hands around your ass and lifted you easily, breaking the kiss, a moment for you to bear witness to his arms flexing – holy fuck, that’s sexy – right one covered in tattoos. Images and script, with one catching your eye, a string of words running up the inside of his upper arm. One you recognized because you had those words written on your bedroom wall, on a canvas hanging above your bed. A canvas you made, background a chaotic mess of varying dark red brushstrokes, the black script in the center, written by your hand.

The exact black script with your flourishes and ticks, now tattooed on the inside of his right arm.

Your eyes drifted to Jungkook's face and his naughty smirk, pleased to be found out. Your lips formed the sentence slowly, in awe of his audacity.

"The devil knows my name."

the devil knows my name.

Hung above your bed, where all manner of marvelous sinful acts were performed.

Jungkook grinned deviously. "I saw it. I wanted it on me."

Wanted it on him.

Oh, fuck.

Did he know? Could he guess?

"Who's the devil?" you whispered, smile widening, matching his.

Jungkook reached down, yanking his t-shirt out of his jeans and pulling it up and over his head, revealing the body he sculpted himself, tan skin taut over hard muscle, toned and...

"You're the devil, of course," he snickered.

Yours.

"Ding dong daeng," you sing-songed.

How many people have been on your bed, head pulled back by your hand, blinking hard, trying to read the words on your wall through waves of forced ecstasy? Gasping them out, ending with a question, inquiring for an answer.

The devil knows my name?

And you, leaning forward, haunting whisper in their ears, yes, she does, before pushing their face down into the sheets.

"All those love letters not good enough for you, Jungkook?" you breathed, running your hands over his bare chest, spreading your fingers, letting your exhale out through your teeth. His eyes on you, torso trembling, hairs raising, feeling your nails dance up, up, raking over his collarbones and neck, leaving little pink lines of intensity.

"They're not you," he whispered. His hands brushing over yours, outlining your fingers, eyes darkening as you pushed him back into your sofa, lowering your head. "You, the one they talk about..." Your lips on his hot skin, kissing softly, tongue so slight that it made him whimper. "You, the one they look for..." His voice, deep and rumbling, vibrating your lips, pitching as you bit and sucked, leaving small hickeys. "You, the one whose bed I sit on, wondering who else has been there, wondering why it's not me, when I make myself available to you, so easy to prey on, but you let me be..." Your lips closing around his dark brown nipple, scraping your teeth against it, making him squirm and look down at you, you and your self-satisfied, ravenous smirk.

"I let you read them," Jungkook whimpered, blond strands curled around his cheeks, chest shuddering at your nail flicking his other nipple while your mouth worked the other. "Let you see everything they want to do to me and you still didn't know."

You chuckled darkly. "What's there to know?" you mused, sticking your tongue out and pressing it against the now hard pink-tinged nub, receiving small whines of pleasure as your reward. "It's obvious what you wanted. I was right in front of you. All you had to do was say something."

Jungkook frowned as you sat up, tongue in cheek, half-grinning.

"Look at you."

You crossed your arms and pulled your pink cropped sweatshirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor. Casually running a hand through the top of your hair to pull it away from your face, gazing down at shirtless Jungkook covered in your red bites, cocking your head with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming over your figure and the curve of your breasts molded to smooth black satin.

"You look like you eat hearts for breakfast," he murmured, admiration in his tone.

The side of your lips quirked further upwards.

"And yet you wanna love me."

Jungkook grinned. "I don't want to. I already do."

And then he was the one to pull you to him, kissing you hungrily, you immediately turning it into your favor, your pace, his tongue commanded by yours as he unhooked your bra, moaning into your mouth, rubbing your exposed nipples with his palms, unable to do much as you pushed him into the couch again, guiding his tongue down with your teeth and running the tip of yours over his wet muscle once more, trickling saliva into his throat and onto his chin and neck, messy and lewd.

"The devil knows your name," you sighed into his mouth, feeling him knead your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hard nipples, tendrils of pleasure making your skin tingle. "And now the devil takes what she wants."

You saw the sides of his lips curve upwards as you backed up to strip the rest of your clothes, amused at Jungkook eagerly following suit and unbuttoning his jeans.

"Can't wait to flaunt how hot you are?" you laughed, reaching down to the shelf under the side table where a ceramic R2-D2 cookie jar sat.

"Do you think I'm hot?" Jungkook haughtily accused before gawking at your waist to ass ratio, his hands slowing, pants stopped to his knees in his distraction.

You gently took off the head of R2-D2 and plucked a condom from it. Some guy told you once that you couldn't like Star Trek and Star Wars at the same time and you told him to shut the fuck up as you slapped his nuts. He begged you to do it again. You fondly patted R2-D2's head after you fitted it back.

You straightened to see Jungkook on your couch with his hard dick on display.

You looked him dead in the eye. "You think I'd let you borrow my laptop if I thought you were ugly?"

Jungkook broke out of his trance and shrugged, finally yanking his calves – holy shit, his calves and thighs were muscular as fuck – out of his jeans, underwear and socks gone with them.

"Maybe you pitied my grades."

"I'd just pay for you to go to the library and fuck off, dumbass," you muttered, pushing his hands aside and ripping the condom open, drinking in the delicious sight of his throbbing red cock dripping pre-cum, his balls just waiting for – fuck it, you got down on your knees and wrapped your tongue around his length, Jungkook sputtering and gasping at your suddenness. Fuck, he smelled and tasted fucking good, clean and velvety to your lips enclosing around the head and sliding down, using one hand to scoop up his balls. Made eye contact with him again.

Jungkook breathed your name hesitantly.

Your tongue slid out of your lips and you jammed his cock all the way down your throat, slathering his balls wetly with your whisking tongue, circling around one and then the other, long expansive strokes that went past the girth of his cock, your pink tongue visible to him. Jungkook's pupils blew wide with shock, moans catching in his throat, whole body shivering, trying desperately not to look away even through you could tell he wanted to throw himself into your sofa and fucking lose it.

"Oooooooh, fuck, that's amazing.... Holy shit, your tongue is everything...."

You chuckled and pulled your head back, satisfied with his reaction. He seemed slightly disappointed until you rolled down the condom, cracking your neck.

"I think I've given enough." You stood up, getting back on top of him and his glorious thighs. "Time for you to be taken."

Jungkook smirked.

You smirked wider and more wickedly.

The sky-blue memo was crumpled into a ball, fallen to your hardwood floor.

Held him with two fingers, ugh, the weight of his cock, fuck yes, and those beautiful dark chocolate eyes, Jungkook, you dumbass, cursing that he didn't tell you sooner so that you could watch him groan and throw his head back like he was right now, gasping at your tightness, your name torn from his throat as you took in every centimeter of him, every pulsing vein and contour of his wonderful cock, stupid Jungkook and his attractive self not using his damn words so you could ride him like you were right now, setting up a fast, bruising pace. Your fingers dug into the back of the couch as you bucked your hips into his violently, keeping yourself tight because you were so fucking wet, fuck, so wet for Jeon Jungkook and his idiotic self, asking for internet to do his school assignments and not asking for his dick to be used as your fucking joystick.

Dumbass.

"Oh fuck," Jungkook gasped. "Oh, fuck, you're so wet and tight, shit, shit, shit..."

"Tell me something I haven't heard before," you chuckled, only half-meaning it, waving your entire body to deliver a particularly hard smack to his crotch, Jungkook whimpering under you, his hands flying to your upper arms and clutching them, trying to hold on to your wildness.

"Holy fuck, you have some hard biceps," he blurted out, startled at the prominent muscle.

Well, you haven't heard that one before.

"Guess that's what happens when you jack off a lot of dick," you mused nonchalantly.

You ticked your head to Jungkook's arms – delicious – and he frowned at you, opening his mouth to protest and you cut him off by shoving two fingers into his lips, pressing them down into the wet warmth, grinning maniacally as you watched him struggle with your fingers rubbing his tongue and his cock getting assaulted by you aggressively slamming your hips down and clamping around his stiffness, tighter, faster, whines of your name in his throat, head falling back onto the couch with a flump. You were careful not to push your fingers too far.

Getting vomited on wasn't really on your sexual activities bingo card.

Jungkook was, however, drooling down his chin and neck, and you pulled back to grab his shoulder with your wet hand – oh, fuck, his shoulder, what a lovely shape – and Jungkook wheezed for breath, you ignoring it as you focused all your energy on fucking the life out of him, dirty squelches and smacks of hips on hips, staring down at his abs and v-line, all his hard work at the gym on display, his hands still on your upper arms as he raised his hips to meet yours, needily moaning for you to destroy him with your pace.

Damn, maybe you would have sent him a love letter if you had seen him naked at least once.

"A-Ask me to cum for you," Jungkook finally got out, voice hoarse from breathing so hard for so long.

"You're going to anyway," you taunted.

"Want you to ask," he whined, almost pouting. "Tell me to do it."

You gazed into his eyes, into those brown irises overtaken by black pupils, him a top spinning by your hand, your plaything commanded by your body, pussy clenching around his twitching cock, spurred on from his pleading tone, giving him a devious and wicked grin, speaking to his swollen lips, the devil knows your name, Jungkook, and him moaning back, fuck yes she does, so close, so fucking close, unashamedly barreling towards your release, power in your veins and under you, his muscles rippling as he fucked you back, amplifying every thrust.

"Jungkook."

"Y-Yes?"

"Say it."

Brown eyes locked with yours.

"I love you. Marry me."

You smirked.

"Cum for me."

A half-second and then you let go, letting the feeling rush in and envelop you, the moment held back to torture him, and now you felt it all, already at the tipping point, strained moan as your orgasm crashed into you, shudders all over and falling, sitting all the way down in his lap to experience the throbbing ache of your core giving out and spilling onto his cock and balls in rapid bursts, viscous and sweet. The scent of sex mixing with blackberry and spiced vanilla, his length jerking inside you, and only then did you hear Jungkook crying out your name over and over, the roar in your ears fading out to his shivering moans, hands sliding up and down your arms, eyes closing and lost in the pleasure of your pussy squeezing out his cum. His touch travelling down to your waist, pulling you to him.

Messy, soft kisses, your name and curses mixed together.

"It's me, right?"

You smiled into his mouth that was still asking questions.

"Please let it be me. You'll let me love you for real, right?"

Pushing your hair back, his sweaty blond locks sticking to your face.

"Because I already do, can't stop, won't stop–"

"Yeah, Jungkook, funnily enough I figured that from the first kiss already," you chuckled, running your fingers through his ash blond hair and pulling his head back lightly, seeing him pout, the mole underneath his lower lip peeking out.

"But..."

"Hm?"

His voice suddenly small, vulnerable, his semi-hard dick still inside you.

"Do you love me?"

You lifted a brow. "What kind of dumbass question is that?" You grabbed his arm and pressed your nail into his tattoo of your words, drawing a pink scratch under them, making him gasp. "How can I not love you? Fuck, that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, my handwriting tattooed onto you. Yes, I love you, Jungkook."

Jungkook's jaw dropped.

This fool is still shocked after all this?

You reached down and held the condom down as you lifted yourself off, yanking him to his feet, pushing Jungkook to your coffee table, right in front of the pile of letters with his name all over them. You picked up your laptop and pushed it onto his chest, forcing him to hold it, him still confused, mildly stunned, not knowing what the fuck was happening.

Then you made him half-straddle your coffee table and yanked off the condom.

"Um–"

Grabbed his cock and started furiously jacking him off.

"Oh, f-fuck!"'

And then he realized what you were doing, the sheer wrongness of it, getting harder and harder with every second, throbbing in your hand.

"You're just like them," you chuckled through exerted breath.

Faster, rougher, tighter, Jungkook clutching your laptop, his larger frame leaning against yours, head thrown back so far that his blond hair was brushing your shoulder, moaning lustfully as he thrusted his hips into your grip. White pooled onto the purple-red tip of his abused cock, far too sensitive to be jacked off this hard right after orgasm, but Jungkook begged you not to stop, streams of residual cum running down your slicked fingers.

"Always looking for your fix from the addiction that's me," you whispered into his ear, laced with an authoritative growl.

You saw Jungkook's head lower out of your periphery, eyes opening, staring at the colorful envelopes with his name printed on them, the cute stickers and neat handwriting, panting your name, tendons and veins standing out on his neck, sweat beading on his tan skin.

A low, dangerous chuckle rising in his throat.

"There's a difference between them and me."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, ridiculously hard at what you two were about to do.

"They're not going to get their fix."

Jungkook shuddered against you, jerking his hips forward, thick white strings splattering all over the pastel paper as you watched, fascinated, the scent of his cum saturating the air and the envelopes, drops soaking and smearing the carefully written ink, time wasted and defiled.

"I am," he moaned, twisting his body on your arms, leaning down to kiss you hungrily as you squeezed his cock, draining it all out, all over your coffee table and coating your hand, stained with Jeon Jungkook's love letter to you.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut

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therealvalkyrie · 3 years ago

Note

god i’m so sorry to bring that up like a very annoying person but…… it really bugged me

what you described in your fic « deserving » is not at all how you should treat a nosebleed…… quite the opposite actually

you should never put your head back and plz don’t ever put gauze (or anything else for that matter) in your nose to stop the bleeding…. it’s a very common misconception but you really shouldn’t and i’m not saying this because my entourage told me saw but as someone trained to give first aid

i feel like its time to share what you actually should or shouldn’t do here and why to educate everyone reading your blog

so here what you actually should do:

sit up right, put your head slightly forward and press your nose (not to hard) with your fingers for at least 10min.

all the material you need to treat a nosebleed are your hands and water and towels to clean yourself from the blood afterwards.

you really dont want to put your head back bcz you’ll be swallowing blood and that’s not great bcz you’ll end up vomiting

plz never put anything inside your nose especially not cotton balls (they’re the worst!! they tend to stick to your wound and this is a problem..). The reason for that is that, once the bleeding stop and you remove the thing you had put in to stop the bleeding, it’ll tore open the healed again and you’ll be re-bleeding.

you want to gently blow your nose every few minutes to avoid blood clots to form for the same reason you don’t put anything inside your bleeding nostril; when the blood clot dry it’ll become annoying and you risk re-bleeding once it get out. you have to be very gentle when doing this.

if your bleeding is caused by and head injury, lasts for more than 30min, is frequent or very abundant or if it’s in a child under 2 go see a doctor asap !!!! don’t take this lightly.

using gauze is usually the better way to clean and bandage a cut or open wound because it is made for this use and won’t fall appart on the wound, i’m happy you mentioned gauze in your fic instead of anything else, but for a nosebleed it’s not appropriate.

again i’m sorry to bother you with this but this is important and too many people don’t know how to correctly treat a nosebleed, i took this as the perfect opportunity to teach people how to do this

hi! thank you for taking the time to educate me, i can see you’re very passionate about the subject.

y’know, i debated while writing the fic whether or not to include this line (which is the one i think you’re so incensed about):

“you open your watery eyes and tilt your head back like your mom always told you to do with a nosebleed.“

because (and i know this might come as a shock to you, considering you assumed i don’t know anything at all!) i do actually know that you’re not supposed to tilt your head back when your nose is bleeding. i have some first aid training, and was a nanny to my little cousin with frequent nosebleeds for a summer a while back. (though, i wouldn’t expect you to know that:))

but i thought to myself, “what might your average high schooler who’s just been bonked in the face do?” and i said to myself, “why, self, she might not know this little tidbit of fairly obscure first aid information, and might simply rely on a common misconception that perhaps her mother told her!” and i called it a day.

you might note, also, that there are no qualified medical personnel or first responders at the volleyball practice in question who would know what to do with a nose break. one could argue that the coaches might have some first aid training, but it’s my goddamn story, and in this particular little fantasy i concocted about falling in love with anime men, they do not. so they did what they thought was right and patched her up with stuff from the first aid kit, as best as they were able. (and, as you might note, i never said anyone put gauze inside her nose.)

now, when we get to the nurse’s office, one might also argue that the nurse would have handled it differently! because she is in fact a qualified medical professional. perhaps i could have included some dialogue about how she instructed our dear reader to gently blow her nose. alas, i did not.

luckily, i don’t believe anyone’s coming to my blog for emergency medical advice! and if someone takes what i’ve written in a self-indulgent little fantasy about falling in love with an anime boy as indisputably correct medical fact, i can’t exactly say that’s on me. that one can be pinned on whoever neglected to teach them reading comprehension or how to separate fiction from reality.

what it comes down to is that i believe what i wrote makes sense within the context of the story. thanks again for taking the time out of your day to educate me. please know that i, too, once suffered from insufferable know-it-all disease, and there is a path to redemption. godspeed.

#:)#anon asks #ask valkyrie

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bbangsoonie · 4 years ago

Text

goal: your heart

member: sunwoo genre: fluff word count: 5,423 synopsis: due to a budget cut, you have to follow the soccer team around for both the school newspaper and yearbook despite knowing nothing about sports. before you know it, you find yourself warming up to the team’s star player, who you swore was the most annoying and arrogant person ever.

a/n: this is a part of the star player collab with @atbzkingdom for sunwoo’s birthday! (also, this will be written with the american academic calander in mind)

You knew exactly what you were doing. You were the top student of both your class and school and the leader of many clubs. Your college application was full of achievements and your essay exquisitely written. The only problem? You had no idea what to do after graduation. You didn’t know where you wanted to go or what you wanted to study.

Growing up, everyone told you that you’d eventually find something you love. By senior year, you thought you would at least have an idea by now.

But nope, you were even more lost if anything. Dream job? That was just a capitalistic lie meant to make people happy to slave away for money.

Grumbling, you listened as your friends rambled on about the campuses they visited. It was only the first day back and everyone was already obsessing over one thing and one thing only.

“Y/n, you’re so lucky,” Juyeon pouted. “You don’t have to worry about getting into a university. Your stats are literally perfect.”

“I have other things to stress over,” you groaned. “At least you know what you wanna pursue.”

“Y/n has other things to worry about. She’s about to graduate without ever finding love,” Younghoon teased.

“It’s all our fault,” Jaehyun squinted as he pinched his nose bridge. “We raised her standards too high. I’m sorry, Y/n, that I can’t take responsibility.”

The notebook in your hand threatened to fly over to his seat. Luckily for him, he was saved by Juyeon’s very unnatural attempt at changing the subject. He inquired about the school newspaper that was barely spared in a major budget cut last year.

Thinking about it made you sigh. You had poured in so much effort over the years for the paper and it was almost taken from you. The school was cutting funds for a lot of clubs and diverting the money to the many sports teams that brought home trophies.

A part of the negotiations to save the newspaper club was to feature more sports events and student athletes in order to garner support for the teams. You weren’t pleased with the decision. Your plate was already full without trying to inflate the ego of players who had a god superiority complex. Jaehyun was a great example of the type of jock you didn’t want to raise on a high pedestal.

You had also promised Kevin, the president of the yearbook committee, to help out with photographing games since you had to attend them anyway. Despite the many tasks assigned to you, you were relieved that you could spend your last year continuing to write articles.

“Does that mean you’ll get to come to practice with us? The basketball team is always on my ass about introducing them to you. Now I can finally stop being pestered to be the middleman,” Jaehyun grinned.

“No shot,” Younghoon shook his head. “My swim team has already tried but Y/n puts up a cold front.”

“Hey, I’m a delicately guarded rose with sharp thorns,” you joked, making Jaehyun pretend to gag. This time, the notebook hit his arm.

“No one is good enough for our Y/n,” Juyeon defended. You turned around to coo at him and said something about him being the only nice one as Younghoon guffawed.

The first day of soccer practice meant you had to stay behind after dismissal to meet the team. The coach introduced you to the players and beamed when he got to the last one.

“This is our ace, Sunwoo. Although I’m sure you know that already,” he said proudly.

To be honest, you had no idea who he was. The school was too big to know everyone and you had absolutely no interest in sports. You rarely even went to Juyeon and Jaehyun’s basketball games and Younghoon’s swim meets.

Not wanting to offend anyone, you simply smiled. Sunwoo, catching your hesitance, raised a brow. However, he kept quiet until he approached you during one of his breaks.

“Do you really not know me?” he asked as he took a seat next to you on the bleachers.

Surprised by his sudden question, you blankly stared at the boy in front of you. Sweat was dripping from his hair but he paid it no attention as he chugged an entire water bottle.

“How cocky are you?” you scoffed.

“You really don’t know our soccer team’s star player, Kim Sunwoo?” he gaped.

“Sorry to disappoint but I really don’t care or know much about soccer. Or any other sports for that matter,” you shrugged.

“You’re going to write about the soccer team… when you don’t even know who we are or what we’re doing?” he asked incredulously.

“That’s why I’m here to observe,” you snapped back.

Finding you amusing, he finally wiped away his sweat as the coach blew his whistle to gather the players again.

Sunwoo always gave it his best but for some reason he found himself practicing extra hard that day. Knowing your eyes were on him motivated him to show off his skills by annoying his teammates and stealing the spotlight. After his third goal in a row, he looked at you to see your reaction but was baffled to see you busy writing something down.

Frustrated and peeved, he kicked at the grass with a huff.

When practice came to an end, he snuck up behind you to see what you were so intently focused on. Reading the notes on your notebook, he hummed.

“So that’s what you were doing instead of watching me,” he mused.

You were listing physical traits and personality attributes of each player. He scanned the paper for his name and frowned when he saw what you wrote about him.

“Arrogant and conceited? That’s all you have to say about me?” he whined.

“What? It’s true,” you deadpanned.

“Haknyeon gets “tall, bubbly, and extroverted” but I get “arrogant and conceited”? That’s not fair. This is biased journalism!” he exclaimed.

Realizing that practice was over, you gathered your belongings and stood up to leave. With his cheeks puffed, he watched as you left the field. You were unlike any person he had ever encountered.

“Sunwoo? Kim Sunwoo?” Younghoon repeated with his eyes wide. “The soccer caption Kim Sunwoo?”

Jaehyun and Juyeon’s chopsticks froze midair in shock. Finding their reactions odd, you nodded as you took another bite of your lunch.

“I can’t believe the lady killer got rejected by the man hater,” Jaehyun broke out into a fit of laughter.

“Now that’s a title I’d like to see on the school newspaper,” Younghoon snickered.

“Okay, first of all, I did not reject him because he did not come on to me,” you rolled your eyes. “Secondly, who the hell is he anyway? Why do you all know him?”

“He’s notorious for his fuckboy image. Although I think that’s an exaggerated reputation,” Juyeon said you picked out all the vegetables from your plate. He willingly moved them to his own and you smiled gratefully in response.

“So my first impression of him was correct,” you said.

“He’s not that bad. He’s actually pretty cool. Rumors don’t do the sweet guy justice,” Juyeon explained.

“Our lovely Juyeon sees the good in everyone,” Younghoon gushed as he pet his friend, earning him a smack on the back of his head.

“We were partners for a history project,” Juyeon clarified. “I got to know him a bit and he’s a good guy. Just enjoys attention a little too much. Like Jaehyun.”

Weirdly offended, Jaehyun scowled. You shrugged it off, returning your attention back to your food. You had no intentions of getting to know Sunwoo anyway. At least, that was the plan until he bombarded you in the hallway while you were walking to class.

He blocked your path with that irritating smirk on his face. Exasperated, you asked him what he wanted.

“So I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday,” he started.

“Oh, so you do think?”

“Hey!”

“Do you think you can move and get out of my way?”

“Anyway, as the president of the newspaper club who’s in charge of covering the soccer team, I think you lack way too much information about the sport. And our school’s players.”

“How do you know I’m the president?”

“I asked around.”

You look at his eyes, trying to peer through any ulterior motives. He was being suspiciously generous. But he wasn’t entirely wrong. Even you thought it was ridiculous that a person who didn’t know a thing about soccer had to write articles about it.

You were also aware that any interviews with the athletes would be surface level stuff that all the students probably already knew. You were the only one out of the loop.

You pursed your lips, annoyed that he was right. Realizing that you were in agreeance, Sunwoo grinned.

“I am offering you the very special privilege to follow me around and learn everything there is to know about the team. For the paper of course,” he quickly added the last part after seeing the look on your face. “I can teach you about both soccer and my teammates.”

After pondering his proposal, you finally nodded.

“Deal,” you eyed his happy expression. “What do you want in return?”

He was taken aback by your question. He hadn’t expected you to assume that he would demand compensation. Your presence and attention were what he was after in the first place. However, he couldn’t let the opportunity pass by.

“Bubble tea,” he declared after some thought. “You can treat me to bubble tea after practice and I can tutor you then.”

“Fine,” you sighed before pushing him aside to make it to class before the bell rang. He was left behind with a stupid smile on his face.

The first tutoring session was extremely awkward for you. You weren’t used to hanging out with guys other than Juyeon, Younghoon, and Jaehyun. They were the only members of the male species you didn’t despise. This riled up Sunwoo’s competitive side. He was determined to get close to you.

He couldn’t stand having someone not like him. He was used to being on friendly terms with everyone—including teachers and even wallflowers. He had a strong desire to receive acknowledgement from everyone.

Perhaps that was why so many girls fell for him.

Nevertheless, the wall around you remained thick and high. Just as he was well known for his playboy persona, you were infamous for never letting guys in. You cold heartedly turned down any and every guy who asked you out. And there had been a lot.

Sunwoo, on the other hand, was excited to spend time with you. Bubble tea was just an excuse to meet you outside of school grounds.

His phone dinged, notifying him of a text. Haknyeon had sent him a screenshot of a post made on the school’s gossip page and wrote “this you?”. He snorted at the content speculating his relationship status after supposedly receiving another confession and rolled his eyes. Curious, you asked him what he was looking at.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” he shook his head as he put the device away. “Just the stupid tea account.”

“Oh you mean that anonymously run social media page that popped up over summer break?” you frowned.

You hated everything about it. It spread rumors, without fact-checking, and started drama. It resulted in both a breakup and the end of a friendship in the span of two months. It was exactly what you and the school newspaper stood against.

Nothing could be done to stop the false information and invasion of privacy because it wasn’t officially affiliated with the school and the students continued to feed into it. People even sent in stories to be posted.

“So tell me what you do know about soccer,” he leaned in and propped his chin on the palms of his hands.

“I know the very basics from catching glimpses of the World Cup,” you leaned back on your chair, making him pout.

“Well, to be honest, explaining the rules is a lot easier to do when directly pointing things out during a game. There’s a match airing tonight. Do you want to come over and watch it with me?” he asked expectantly.

“We can watch the replay tomorrow during study hall,” you said.

“Then we can start by talking about me today,” he chirped. “My squad number is 19 because 9 is usually worn by centre forwards but I wanted to be special and added a 1 in front of it. I’m the centre forward, which is the main striker. That means playing offensive is my main objective. Which is why I’m the highest scorer on the team.”

You wanted to wipe the smug look off his face. It irked you how he so easily bragged about himself.

“I also really like movies and can play the guitar. A true all-rounder and romanticist,” he smiled.

He continued to reveal fun facts about himself for another half an hour. It was only at the end that you realized most of it was useless when writing for the paper. You groaned, realizing you had fallen for his trap.

Still, you learned some things about soccer and his position in the team. Following him to the cafe hadn’t been a complete waste of your time.

The next day, Sunwoo hunted you down to make sure you kept your promise about watching the game together. He dragged you to the computer room during study hall and pulled out the earbuds he prepared. He had purposely rummaged through his drawers the night before to the share wired ones with you.

You had to admit he was extremely helpful when explaining the rules and strategies of soccer. Despite being uncomfortable with the proximity of his body to yours, he was a great teacher. He made everything sound so simple. After you began to understand the game, you even found yourself enjoying the match.

After spending a week with him, you hated that you couldn’t say you still disliked him. After all, you two met almost every day for hours.

You had a gut feeling that you would come to regret it and were proven right. You had a bad feeling the moment you saw Jaehyun run up to you as if his life depended on it. Panting, he barely pulled himself together to show you the post that made him immediately report to you.

“KSW and Y/INITIALS seen cozily spending time together. Will he be the one to finally break through her?” you read aloud.

A photo of your backs from the computer room and a mosaicked side shot of you two at the cafe were attached to the title. The comments under the post were even more ridiculous.

“A challenge to be anticipated.”

“Poor girl will only end up as one of his many heartbroken playthings.”

“I know who KSW is. Who’s Y/INITIALS??”

“The legendary man hater? With a guy?? Wow how good must he be 👀”

“Damn so she rejected me for him?”

Your blood boiled and you shoved the phone away. Trying to calm yourself down, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. And failed.

“What is this, fucking Dispatch?” you exploded. A few students passing by stared at your outburst and widened their eyes when they saw that it was you. You sighed, knowing that the whole school saw the post.

“I’m not a celebrity! Why are people so invested in fake rumors about me?” you yelled, trying to keep your voice to a whisper as you pulled Jaehyun into an empty classroom.

“I’m sure it’ll blow over,” he assured.

“If I ever find out who the admin of this page is, I will ruin them,” you glowered.

You almost didn’t go to the soccer practice that day. But you knew that avoiding him would only add fuel to the fire so you sucked it up and went to the field after school as usual. You heard the hushed murmurs that stirred among the team when you arrived and you wanted to turn back around and leave.

Before you could, however, Sunwoo appeared and shut everyone up with a warning glare. He announced that the coach would be late and to start by running laps.

You were more annoyed than upset about the post. It just stupefied you that people really had nothing better to do than gossip about you. You didn’t think you were that interesting.

You were so close to escaping after practice but Sunwoo caught you trying to sneak away. He stood in front of you, crossing his arms as if to ask where you were going. Giving up, you muttered a “fine” and waited for him to change out of his uniform.

This time, you two wordlessly agreed to go to a different cafe. With the bubble teas on the table in front of you, you sat in silence until Sunwoo finally spoke up.

“Don’t mind what the post or others say,” he huffed.

“I’m not too bothered by it,” you shrugged.

“Good. Because I want to get to know you as just Y/n and Sunwoo. Through whatever you wish to tell and show me. I feel like we’re always just talking about me.”

His words left you speechless. Juyeon hadn’t been kidding when he mentioned how thoughtful Sunwoo was. You felt your heart warm as you smiled.

“Well what do you want to know about me?” you asked.

“Anything. Everything.”

So you spilled about your interests, hobbies, and goals. It was strange. Although it hadn’t been long since you met him, you felt comfortable around him. He made you feel at ease and you didn’t think twice about opening up to him.

You told him about your struggles as a high achieving student. About the pressure you felt and how embarrassing it was to tell people that you didn’t have any dreams.

With your grades, all the teachers expected you to apply to medical school. On the other hand, your parents encouraged you to work towards a high paying and stable salary as a corporation employee. Your friends suggested that you go for something in journalism because of your passion and commitment to the school newspaper.

But the club was just something you did for fun. You didn’t know if you liked it enough to pursue it as a career.

Sunwoo listened attentively as you went on about your concerns. From the outside, you looked like you had your life together. You were the perfect student and the girl that many guys chased after. But as he spent more time with you, it became clear that you were very uncomfortable with boys.

“Can I ask how you got so close with the Bermuda line?” he asked.

“The Bermuda line? What’s that?”

“You’ve never heard of the term? Juyeon, Jaehyun, and Younghoon are called the Bermuda line because they’re the most popular athletes out of all the sports teams. The girls say that once you fall for them, you’re stuck in between them forever because you can’t get out.”

You hadn’t laughed that hard in so long. You knew they had fans but found it hilarious how the trio even had a nickname.

“Oh man, I can’t wait to make fun of them for this,” you laughed, nearly in tears.

When he told you that they actually took great pride in the title, you bursted out in laughter again. Their self love truly was on another level.

“So how’d you end up friends?” he asked again.

“Juyeon, I’ve known since middle school. We were in the same class for all three years. Jaehyun didn’t go to the same school as us but he was friends with Juyeon because they played basketball together. I met him and Younghoon at the end of freshman year. They kinda crash landed into my life but we really clicked so that’s why I still bless them with my friendship.”

Sunwoo giggled at your own overwhelming confidence. He loved that you never sold yourself short. He didn’t notice he had been staring at you until you pointed it out. Blushing, he insisted that it was nothing and took another sip of his bubble tea.

Two months passed by and you eventually came to call Sunwoo a friend. Younghoon teased you about him being more than a friend and at first, you thought he was crazy. But with him planting the idea in your head, you began to question your own feelings. Cursing Younghoon, you blamed him for confusing you.

As the designated photographer, you tagged along to the soccer team’s last match. The entire team was nervous as it would determine the winner of the tournament. Even Sunwoo was anxious.

Before the game started, you offered him a supportive smile and he felt all worries lifted off his shoulders. He erased all thoughts of winning and losing and just concentrated on the ball. He wanted to enjoy the last match of the season and look cool in front of you. That was all that mattered to him.

Fortunately, he got both plus the win. The crowd erupted into cheers as he scored the winning goal just seconds before the whistle was blown to signal the end of the game. His knees fell to the ground and his teammates rushed to surround him.

Seeing how happy he looked brought a smile to your lips. He jumped up and scanned the bleachers for your face. When he finally spotted you, he broke away from his team to run up to you and embrace you in a giant hug.

Caught off guard, you froze as his teammates hooted and applauded. You felt your cheeks heat up at the attention.

“Congratulations,” you chuckled, patting his back. “You did well.”

“Did you get a lot of pretty pictures of me?” he grinned, pulling away to look at you.

“No, I only took pictures of Haknyeon,” you joked. By now, he was used to your teasing and simply ruffled your hair in response.

“There’s gonna be an after party tonight,” he brought up carefully. “I’d really like it if you came. Only if you’re okay with that type of scene though.”

Surprised, you nodded before you fully thought it through.

That was how you ended up moping at Jaehyun’s house. The invitation was extended to the Bermuda line as well and they were all planning on dragging you there. Younghoon was excited at the thought of finally going to a party with the whole group and Juyeon was picking out an outfit for you from Jaehyun’s sister’s closet.

“I don’t know if I trust your fashion sense,” she made a face at the top he held up.

This was your first party and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. There was a reason you hadn’t gone to one throughout your high school years.

Nonetheless, you were dressed up in an outfit that definitely reflected Jaehyun’s sister’s style more than yours. She fawned over how pretty you were and urged you to go with the boys.

So you walked through the doors and into the house vibrating with music. Everyone who recognized you was shocked to see you there. Feeling awkward, you stuck by Jaehyun’s side as you maneuvered around the throng of people. When he finally caught sight of Sunwoo, he dipped and left you alone with him.

“Thanks for coming,” he shouted over the loud music.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you shouted back.

Sunwoo offered you a drink, which you declined. Following your choice, he opted for a soda instead as well. You weren’t much of a dancer so you enjoyed people watching instead. It was fascinating to see your classmates have so much fun.

You giggled when you saw Juyeon be so painfully oblivious to a girl’s advances and walked away to dance with Younghoon. Meanwhile, Jaehyun was having the time of his life flirting with girls. You blocked your eyesight when you saw him leaning in to kiss one of them.

“Ugh, gross,” you cringed. “I do not need to know this side of my best friend’s love life.”

Laughing, Sunwoo offered to take you outside for some fresh air and a change of scenery. You gladly agreed and let him guide you to the backyard.

The night sky was full of tranquility that contrasted the chaos that ensued indoors. You sat on the grass and Sunwoo joined next to you.

“You look beautiful today,” he commented.

“Only today?” you laughed.

“Especially today,” he answered in a serious manner. His sincerity made you clear your throat and look away. He stunned you by cupping your face with his hands.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Are you drunk?” you blinked.

“I haven’t had a single sip of alcohol.”

His voice was slow and raspy. Your heart was beating faster than you wanted it to and you knew the corners of your lips were betraying you.

“You can either lean in or pull away,” he said as he brought his lips closer to yours.

Your heart now felt like it was about to jump out of your chest. Red alarms were going off in your head and you didn’t know what to do. All you knew was what you were only a few centimeters away from kissing Sunwoo.

So you did what any insane person would do and closed the gap between your lips. You wanted to punch him when you felt him smirk but he pulled you closer and held onto you tightly.

The weekend passed without much changes in your relationship with Sunwoo. You were worried that you had either ruined your friendship or that he was sick of you but Juyeon reassured you that he probably wanted to talk about it in person. Anxiously, you overthought things until Monday finally arrived.

Wanting to keep yourself busy until you met Sunwoo, you stopped by the club room early in the morning to import the photos from the last game. Shortly after you connected the camera to the computer, you heard a knock on the door.

Startled, you looked at the door and saw Jacob sheepishly poking his head through the door. You told him to come in and he took a seat next to you.

“Kevin told me to drop by before class for an interview,” he said. You nearly facepalmed. You had completely forgotten about that. You were supposed to interview him for the paper.

“Oh yeah! Hold on, let me go get my notebook,” you searched through your backpack to find it.

The volleyball player was this month’s star of the month and you had to write a piece on his past achievements. He was extremely kind and was careful not to use any advanced sports terminology to make sure anyone could easily read the interview, which you were grateful for.

Before you parted, he gave you a side hug out of habit and apologized when he realized that it was only his first time meeting you. You laughed it off and insisted that now you could be friends since you two hugged already. Relieved that you weren’t disturbed, he happily waved goodbye to you as he walked away.

Being in a different class than Sunwoo meant that you had to wait until lunch period to see him. You honestly didn’t even know if you wanted to see him. You weren’t ready to face him yet.

When the bell finally rang and it was time for lunch, Juyeon forced you to go to the cafeteria instead of hiding out in an empty classroom. The moment you sat down with your tray, however, you felt all eyes on you. Your stomach dropped, knowing it couldn’t be good news.

“Y/n, is this true..?” Jaehyun asked, showing you the new post on the gossip page. You hated that you were always right about bad intuitions.

KSW and Y/INITIALS caught making out at last night’s party… is BJY a side hoe?

You had no idea when a photo was taken in the brief second you and Jacob hugged that morning. When you scrolled and saw the next part, your heart dropped.

A shocking revelation of history: Y/INITIALS and SYJ used to date in freshman year. Does this have anything to do with the swimmer and basketball players always next to her?

You felt your breath caught in your throat as you read through the comments.

“Isn’t BJY on the volleyball team and SYJ on the baseball team?”

“Wow she clearly has a type.”

“I guess athletes just hit it well 👀”

“And here I thought KSW was the hoe… who’s playing with who?”

“Aye so KSW finally managed to break through her. Thanks for my $10 bro.”

“Aren’t the basketball players LJY and LJH? And the swimmer KYH? The Bermuda line, right?? I always thought she had a thing with one of them.”

“So much for the icy Y/INITIALS. She was acting all pretentious when she was already having all her fun.”

Juyeon grabbed the phone out of your hands and glared at Jaehyun. You never thought your past relationship would ever get exposed. There were only a handful of people who knew about it and it had stayed hidden under the rug up until now. It was something you wanted to bury and never think about ever again.

Shakily, you got up and ran out of the cafeteria with Younghoon calling out after you. You ran as fast as you could. You didn’t stop until you busted through the doors and collapsed on the rooftop. Your lungs were on fire and you closed your eyes to stop the ringing in your ears.

Meanwhile, Sunwoo was running across the school to find you. When he didn’t see you in the club room, he changed his target and sought out Eric.

“Is it true?” he demanded when he finally saw his friend.

“I can’t believe people already figured out that it’s me,” Eric sighed.

“Is it true?” Sunwoo repeated.

“Yes, yes, it’s true,” he answered with his hands up in defeat. “She never wanted anyone to find out. We didn’t exactly end on good terms. It’s something I’m not proud of.”

“What happened?” he asked, trying to contain his anger. “What did you do to her?”

“I…” Eric trailed off. “I cheated on her.”

“What the hell, Eric?” Sunwoo yelled.

“I-I was stupid! And young. It’s the biggest mistake I made in my life,” he admitted.

Frustrated, Sunwoo left and ran off in search of you again. When you weren’t anywhere to be found, he checked the rooftop as a last resort. He didn’t expect to actually see you there.

“Y/n,” he breathed. You felt a lump form in your throat. It was the first time he had addressed you by your name.

“Get away from me,” you glared. “Was I nothing but a bet to you? Was I just a challenge for you to win?”

“Y/n, I never placed bets on you. I don’t know what other people have been betting on but I have always been genuine with you,” he affirmed.

You refused to let your tears fall. There was no way Kim Sunwoo was going to see you cry.

“I like you,” he confessed. “I like you a lot. I meant to say this that night but got too flustered. So I wanted to tell you today. Whenever I see you, the butterflies in my stomach won’t go away. When I don’t see you, I miss you like crazy. You inspire me to become a better person and all I want to do is hold you and call you mine.”

And now Kim Sunwoo has officially seen you cry. He bent down to wrap his arms around you as you sobbed into his shoulder.

“You’re an asshole,” you mumbled after you calmed down.

“I think you mean the opposite,” he chuckled. “Whatever barriers you put up to protect yourself, I’m going to take them down one by one. With you. Together.”

“Who said I’m helping?” you muttered.

“Then I guess I have to work twice as hard to prove myself,” he softly smiled.

“This is embarrassing,” you groaned.

“This will only be embarrassing for me if you reject me,” his hand reached out to the nape of his neck. “So what do you say? Will you go out with me?”

“I’ll think about it,” you huffed, prompting a chuckle from him.

#deobiwritersnet #the boyz #sunwoo #the boyz sunwoo #the boyz fluff #sunwoo fluff #the boyz sunwoo fluff #the boyz imagines #sunwoo imagines #tbz fluff #tbz imagines #the boyz fic #sunwoo fic #tbz fic #the boyz scenarios #sunwoo scenarios #tbz scenarios #star player collab

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domeyashiro · 3 years ago

Note

Not to stir the pot or anything but I’ve been seeing so many posts on tumblr of some group that is posting “another translation” of Saezuru. These people keep talking about demanding that the publishers re-release a “perfect” translation. As a former JA>EN translator I have my own thoughts on this one but I was curious to know what you thought. (Also, I’d love to know more about what kind of translation work you do!)

Sigh. I don't even have to look up that blog to know who you're talking about. And I think "another translation" is a very fitting term for what they do. ;) From what I saw, they're a prime example of the Dunning-Kruger-Effect. If translation were as simple as exchanging words from the source language into their dictionary translation of the target language like a robot, there wouldn't be tons of books on translation theory out there. I feel a rant coming up, so please bear with me, because what I’m about to say will be nothing new to you.

First of all, there is no "perfect translation". Give the same source text to ten translators and you'll get ten different results. All of which can be perfectly valid. Ideally they all convey the same meaning, so it's not like you wouldn't notice that they were translated from the same source text. But the wording will differ. One person will find a better translation here, another person will find a better way to phrase things there. It's not like one translator gets everything right and better than everyone else, unless you have people with vastly different skill levels. Often it will be simply a matter of personal preference which translation you like best.

The person who runs the blog you mention has a very literal approach to translation. They think sticking as closely as possible to the phrasing the author chose will achieve the "perfect result". But that's a typical beginner’s mistake. They're getting the facts right, I'll give them that. Being a native speaker does have advantages. But getting the facts right is the bare minimum we try to do as translators. (I say "try", because we're human and everyone makes mistakes here and there.) What's more important for a good translation is strong writing skills in your target language, which is why most professional translators translate into their native language, not from their mother tongue into their second or third language. Because it's incredibly hard to develop the same feel for what sounds good and natural in a language you didn't grow up with. It's not impossible, but very few people achieve this level of skill.

I'm also an ESL speaker, so I won't judge other people's English, but let me explain why I think that translating too literally is a beginner's mistake. First of all "literal translation" is a total myth, because where you draw the line between what is “literal” and what is not is always a deliberate decision made by the translator. Strictly speaking, if someone claims to be using only Sensei's own words, they would also have to drop subjects and pronouns where they're missing in the Japanese original, as they do all the time. I doubt anyone would go this far, but let's roll with this example to emphasize my point:

"iku?" (Go?) is a perfectly natural thing to say in Japanese. The info who is going and where they want to go is usually clear from the context and doesn’t need to be explicitly stated. So the Japanese reader gets a normal sentence, whereas the English reader gets an ungrammatical one. The sentence needs a subject at least: "We go?" Understandable English, but still not a grammtical sentence. "Should we go?" Now we get the same information the Japanese speaker got from just "iku?" in the context I pretend it was said in. I added two words that aren't there in the original, yet my sentence is a) easier to understand b) correct English and c) conveys the same meaning as the original, while the "literal translation" is lacking in all three aspects. Now please imagine a whole text written like: “Go?” “Yes, go!” Would you honestly think that the translator did a good job by giving you a text in broken English that's barely understandable when things get more complex than this? The Japanese audience gets a perfectly well-written story, while you’re barely even able to understand what’s going on. So your reading experience doesn't match at all, despite sticking religiously to the source text.

I’m exaggerating of course. No translator would go this far. But this example shows that even the most “literal translation” doesn’t get away with wording things exactly as in the source text.

And then we get into more complex territory: If I translate a joke, is it more important that I give you the exact words the author used, although you're missing the cultural context to find the joke funny, or is it more important that I make you laugh like the author intended? If there's a dialect, how do I go about it? Is it important enough to risk alienating my audience (because we're not really used to seeing written dialect)? If yes, which English dialect could work? There is never a perfect equivalent, because dialects are so tied to the region where they're spoken. So do I substitue a Japanese southern dialect with an English southern dialect? Or do I go by the image the dialect evokes in the Japanese reader’s head? Urban or rural? Or maybe I should create a fictional dialect? But then it doesn't evoke any image at all and might simply sound stupid. Or how do I "literally" translate all the different ways to say "I" and "you" in Japanese? There is simply no one and perfect way to translate something. Some ways are objectively better than others, but most of the time it's a case by case decision. What works well in one situation, might be the wrong approach in another one.

So if you try to approach everything with "literal is best", your result won't even be good. You’ll end up with awkward English: flat dialogues that don’t flow, clumsy idioms, unnatural word choices, characters who don't sound like native speakers, jokes that don't land, shifted nuances, weird sentence structure and so on. All this makes the text harder to read, harder to understand and almost impossible to enjoy. If you can’t create a text that reads as effortlessly and beautifully in English as it does in Japanese, all you’re doing is make the author look unskilled (and yourself too ofc).

Proper translation aims to recreate the unique features of each source text and the individual style of the author with the natural means of the target language. You’re allowed to be creative and find original ways to do so, but you're not supposed to cripple the target language by pressing it into the structure of the source language. Because the readers don’t see “the beauty of the Japanese language” in your supposedly faithful translation. They see clumsy or even wrong English.

Coming back to the "another translation" blog. If we're talking about the same person, they like to label everything as "serious mistranslation". Yes, there are many actual mistakes in the scanlation, and probably in the official translation too (I haven’t read it tbh), but 90 % of the things I saw them point out aren't even minor mistakes. They're just "correcting" perfectly natural English into English that says exactly the same, just worse or longer. Speech balloons have limited space and sometimes a sentence simply doesn’t fit in if you don’t shorten it a little. That’s not a mistake! And if I have a Japanese sentence like "I'm doing this for the first time", it's not a mistranslation to turn it into "I've never done this before", because the meaning is exactly the same. I just chose a phrasing that might sound more natural in English in the given context. This is a made-up example, but this is the level of nitpickery we're talking about. Not to mention that it's incredibly rude to drag someone else's translation publicly like that, especially when your criticism is solely based on your own lack of knowlege.

(Regarding your last question: I translate manga professionally but that’s all I can really say on this blog.)

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #translation #saezuru fandom #questions

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babymetaldoll · 4 years ago

Text

I've been working out a little bit (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Requested: Yes.

Summary: Spencer has been working out with Penelope, and they are doing their best to keep it a secret. Until (Y/N) finds out and tries to help. And though he doesn't want to because he is embarrassed about his poor athletic performance, somehow she manages to help.

Category: Fluff

Warnings: Curses, frustration. Good old fools in love.

Word count: 3.8K

A/N: Hello, pretty people! I've missed you! I hope you like this little story. It's one of the last requests pending on my list. Tomorrow I can finally visit my grandparents, I'll be taking care of them for at least two weeks, and though I know it's hard work, I am just so happy I can be with them again!! I miss them! Take care, whenever you are! Love you!

Masterlist

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

- "No fucking way, Spencer!" (Y/N) widened her eyes and laughed so hard tears filled her eyes. She was sitting at her desk at work, staring at her best friend, who could barely walk due to the two hours he had spent that morning training with Penelope.

- "Please, don't tell anyone."- he whispered and looked around the bullpen. He was too embarrassed already to let anyone else know he had to take the mandatory fit test. He wanted to avoid the jokes, especially Derek's.

- "Your secret is safe with me, as always, chipmunk"- (Y/N) smiled and bit her lips, trying not to laugh anymore- "But why on earth are you working out? You have enough case hours to cover a fit test!"

- "Apparently, I can't skip it this year. Both me and Penelope have to take it."- Spencer whispered and sat down very slowly, pain written all over his face.

His best friend stared at him reading the mix of embarrassment and physical pain he felt with each movement he made. (Y/N) smiled and opened one of her drawers, looking for the last Snicker she had hidden in case of need. Watching Spencer in pain was precisely the case. She stood up and handed him the candy, making his heart skip a beat. Spencer did his best to hide the blush on his cheeks and just looked away.

- "I can help you if you want."- (Y/N) whispered and cut him the most adorable smile she had.

- "Help me what?"

- "Working out."- she replied and bit her granola bar- "I can teach you how to kick ass, and I do look hot wearing sweat shorts."

Spencer nearly chook. He flushed and closed his eyes, trying to cover up his embarrassment. But (Y/N) giggled and turned around. Her job there was done. Now Spencer had to be picturing her in her sweat shorts.

Of course, he was. He couldn't stop, actually.

The two agents were the youngest of the team, and somehow sometimes in-between cases, it showed. Especially when they were on their own, and their conversations ended up in casual flirting.

(Y/N) was head over feet in love with Spencer, though she was never going to face it. God knows Penelope had tried to force her to deal with her feelings. But she was closed as an oyster. No matter how much Garcia insisted or how drunk they were, (Y/N) kept denying her true feelings in public.

Spencer wasn't indifferent. Not at all. As a matter of fact, he was in love with (Y/N). Everything about her bewitched him. Ever since the first time he laid eyes on her, he felt it. She was tailor-made for him. If only he weren't a nervous wreck each time he saw her...

After two years working together, Spencer had managed to overcome part of my shyness and awkwardness around (Y/N). They were best friends, and they would usually hang out in their free time. The little free time they had in the BAU. But even when they could playfully flirt all the time, Spencer was sure she didn't like him that way. He convinced himself she was just joking.

(Y/N) headed to the Batcave holding a large frappuccino and knocked on the half-opened door before walking in.

- "Penelope García, I had the feeling you were running caffeine low."

- "Oh my pretty little thing! How do you do it? You read my mind!"- the tech analyst nearly hyperventilated as soon as she held her ice and creamed coffee.

- "Reid and I were out for a little break, and I knew you would like one of these to cheer up your afternoon"- Garcia sipped her frappuccino and nodded. But as soon as she had finished savoring the perfect coffee, she asked.

- "So, you and Reid..."

- "We were out getting coffee, like the best friends we are."

- "But, there's coffee here in the kitchenette. There's no need to go out and get coffee unless you want to find an excuse to be alone with him."- (Y/N) raised an eyebrow and sighed. Garcia did that every single chance she got.

- "You and I know the FBI doesn't share our concept of "good" coffee."- (Y/N) looked at her friend and just smiled- "Besides, I told you, I felt you needed some extra sugar and joy in your life after your early workout session this morning."

- "That little snitch!"- (Y/N) chuckled and shook her head.

- "Don't get mad at Reid. He didn't tell me anything. I kind of figured there was something wrong 'cos he looked in so much pain just breathing."

- "Oh man, he is sored, but I am sure he would be way sorer if you train with him."

- "I offered myself to help him"- Garcia raised an eyebrow at (Y/N) 's words, and the young agent wide opened her eyes, blushing- "Stop staring at me like I'm a perv! I meant helping him train for the test. I could help you too."

- "Thank you, but no, thank you. I trained with you, and there's no way we are going to do all that boxing again."

- "Come on! You said you had fun!"

- "I did! I really did... but I could barely move the next day! And I had a date! I couldn't even dance, less doing... other... nevermind"- Penelope stopped herself in her tracks and shook her head.

- "Shit, PG!"- (Y/N) closed her eyes and chuckled- "Spare me the details."

- "Sorry... anyway... you and the little genius should definitely train in a more... horizontal way."

- "Garcia! Stop it!"- (Y/N) laughed and stood up- "I'm gonna go back to work 'cos clearly you have some hormonal issues today, and you are projecting."

- "Stop acting like you haven't thought about it!"- Garcia said and chuckled as her friend walked away.

- "I'm not telling you anything."

- "That means yes!"

- "No! it doesn't!"- (Y/N) was blushing; that's why she refused to turn around and look at Penelope.

- "Oh! It so does!"

The end of that day found Spencer even more sore, hungry and weary than he had felt in years. All he wanted to do was go home, eat pizza leftovers from the night before, and go straight to bed.

Until...

- "Hey, chipmunk!"- (Y/N) looked at Spencer, gathering all his things and getting ready to go home.- "Dinner at my place tonight. My treat."

- "I can pick the take out tonight?"- he said immediately and asked himself where did that come from if, a second earlier, all he wanted to do was to go to bed. Probably from the same place that kept coming back to the image of her in sweat shorts.

- "Even better. I'll cook"- (Y/N) answered and winked, playfully- "You deserve a proper homemade dinner after all the workout you did this morning."

Spencer looked at her and didn't even notice the silly smile on his face. If he had known how in love he was looking, he would have probably slapped himself. (Y/N) sighed and stood up.

- "I'm gonna take that silence as a "Great (Y/N)! Thank you! How considered! I'm so lucky to have you in my life".

Spencer rolled his eyes and shook his head.

- "Thank you, (Y/N). But I'll give you more praise if your food turns out to be eatable"- the young agent gasped, pretending to be insulted by his words, and hit Reid's arm with her knuckles.

- "Auch! (Y/N)!"

- "I'm being nice, and you are insulting me! I'm having second thoughts about driving you over!"

- "I can take the subway! You are such a slow driver I can actually be there faster."

Spencer stuck out his tongue at her and ran to the elevator, 'cos his friend widened her eyes and ran after him, probably to hit him again.

Morgan and Prentiss stared at the scene in silence, sharing a few looks, both of them thinking the exact same thing: "When are these two goofs ever going to hook up?"

- "They are annoying"- Rossi stood next to Emily's desk and crossed his arms on his chest.

- "They are in love"- she corrected, but David shook his head and sighed.

- "I know, and they are adorable, but it's so annoying staring at the same scene over and over again, waiting for something, anything, to happen between them."

- "Are you turning into a bitter old man who completely forgot about the charm of being young and in love?"- Prentiss raised an eyebrow and turned to Rossi. The Italian stared right into her eyes and shook his head.

- "I'm just saying someone should try to tell them something."

- "I've tried to talk to him about her a million times. But Reid is one private kid."- Derek said from his desk as the three of them stared at Spencer and (Y/N) getting into the elevator, still arguing and playfully playing.

- "And he is so insecure. He doesn't think she likes him."

- "Likes him? She is clearly in love with him!"- Prentiss said, annoyed- "I swear, if nothing happens between them this weekend, I'm going to intervene."

- "Now who is forgetting about the charm of being young and in love?"- Rossi joked and sighed- "Come on guys, dinner's on me."

(Y/N)' s dinner was a success. Spencer ate two portions of honey mustard-glazed chicken bake. She even managed to make him eat vegetables. And Spencer didn't even argue. Not only because it was delicious, and his body really needed some homemade dinner. But also 'cos (Y/N) got him wrapped around her fingers, even without knowing it. And if she asked him to eat veggies, Spencer (no matter how much he would argue) would eat his damn veggies. And he could actually enjoy them.

- "Ok, chipmunk, you ate all your food. You earned your dessert"- (Y/N) smiled and picked the dirty dishes from the table.

- "Let me do that. You already fed me. The least I can do is do the dishes."

Spencer followed her moves and took the dishes to the sink. (Y/N) didn't argue with that. It wasn't the first time Spencer cleaned the kitchen with her, after all. They had been good friends, close friends, for a long time, and they were used to being around each other.

But this time, it felt somehow different. Like there was something in the air warning them things were about to change for good.

- "Ok, doc. Do you wanna eat your dessert watching tv for a while?"- (Y/N) handed Spencer an ice cream bowl with chocolate chips on top and some whipped cream.

- "A smiley ice cream bowl?"- Spencer chuckled as he stared at it. He loved it.

- "Yes, you are never too old to eat food with a smile on it. And that's a life lesson, Spencer Walter Reid."- she said and walked to the couch, holding the remote control.

- "You are filled with wisdom, (Y/N)"- Reid teased her and sat by her side.

- "I know. It would help if you let me train you. You would pass your fit test in a blink."- she said and continued surfing channels.

- "Thanks, but no thanks. I wanna do it on my own."- Spencer glued his eyes on the screen and ate his dessert. (Y/N) just nodded and continued surfing channels.

- "Why?"- she asked him after a few minutes. They had been watching an old movie in silence, just eating their ice cream.

- "Why what?"- he whispered and looked at her just for a second. He didn't trust himself around (Y/N), especially under those circumstances: alone in her house. She had changed into leggings and an old extra-large sweatshirt. Her hair was in a messy bun. And Spencer didn't feel able to look at her into the eyes, 'cos he was going to cave in. He was going to grab her face with both hands and kiss her right there. No questions asked.

Which is why he avoided looking at her.

- "Why don't you want me to help you train?"

- "Just because"- he answered and glued his eyes to the screen. But (Y/N) knew better. She moved closer to him on the couch and held his hands. Spencer shivered right away at the sensation of her skin. It was so warm and soft. All he craved was some more of that. He wanted to feel her. Touch her. Taste her.

His head was going way too fast, and just because she held his hand.

- "Spencer, look at me"- she whispered and practically begged her friend to pay her attention- "I just wanna help. It's just a stupid fit test. It ain't hard."

- "For you."- he mumbled and looked down at his hand as her fingers played against his skin.

- "I didn't want you or anyone to help me 'cos I'm a fucking SSA who should be perfectly able to perform a simple fit test on his own. But no. I can't! And do you know what that means?"

- "That finally I know there's one thing you are not good at?"- she answered and smiled at him. Spencer raised his eyes and met hers. He knew his cheeks were all shades of pink, but for once, he just didn't care. He just wanted to look at her and see if she meant it. Or if she was just teasing him.

- "Right"- he snorted and shook his head.

- "I mean it, Spencer. You don't have to be good at everything."

- "It's a fit test. It's basic to be an agent. I need to be able to catch an unsub."- (Y/N) frowned and tried to understand where all that self-doubt and insecurity was coming from. To her eyes, Spencer had nothing to be ashamed of. To her, he was perfect in every single way.

- "You already catch unsubs, chipmunk. Everyday. You don't have to kick down doors to make a profile. And you don't have to run six miles to get the bad guy. Everything that you do every day at work is what an SSA is supposed to do. And you excel at it."

(Y/N) sighed and smiled at her best friend, trying to push aside the urge she felt to kiss him. His golden-brown eyes looked so big, like honey pools, she could stare for a lifetime. Spencer didn't know what to say. He really wasn't good with praises. He wasn't used to them. Not in that way.

- "Besides"- (Y/N) added after a few seconds of silence when she realized she might have said too much and started panicking.

- "It feels good to finally know there is one thing I am better than you at."

- "What are you talking about?"- Spencer answered right away, in the sassiest tone of voice.- "Just because I suck working out doesn't mean you are better. Even at my lowest, I'm still better than whatever you can do in a gym."

Reid was obviously joking. He knew (Y/N) could kick ass. Not only had she saved his life many times on the field, but also, he had seen her working out. And she could definitely kick his ass if she wanted to.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to tease her just because.

- "You take that back, Reid!"- she threatened him and

- "No"- he sentenced and crossed his arms on his chest

- "Last chance. Take it back, or you will pay for it."

- "Make me."

And that was it.

In a second, (Y/N) was on him tickling him, and trying to practice a chokehold on him. But Spencer was faster, and somehow, stronger than her. Maybe it was because he was struggling with himself. A part of him wanted her closer, and a part of him didn't want her too close, 'cos he knew his pants were going to start feeling too tight if she did.

Whatever the reason was, after two minutes of wrestling, Spencer had (Y/N) pinned down against the couch. And the way she panted against the fabric of the cushion wasn't helping him with his pants.

- "Spencer, it hurts"- she cried and tried to move from his grip, but he didn't let her go.

- "If you want me to release you, you have to say I am the best agent in this house."

- "Never!"- (Y/N) quickly answered and continued struggling.

- "Just say it, I've got you held, and I'm not going to let you free until you say it."- something in his tone of voice, it was teasing but also... sexy? (Y/N) knew Spencer wasn't trying to act that way, but it was working for her in a way she hadn't imagined. He would be so soft. And now, there he was, acting like a dominant man, holding her tight, not letting her move, literally pinned against the couch.

If only it were all happening in a different context.

- "Let me go, Spencer Reid!"- (Y/N) battled against his arms, but it was useless

- "Just say it"- he leaned in and whispered in her ear, and (Y/N) sword she could almost feel his smile as he spoke.

- "You are the best agent!! There, happy?"- she mumbled, making her best to sound annoyed and not turned on. Spencer released her, and she quickly sat down properly, rubbing her left wrist.

- "Did I hurt you?"- Spencer whispered and noticed how flustered she was. That was a first.

- "No. But I gotta tell you, you are stronger than I thought."- she said and stuck out her tongue to him, trying to be playful and innocent, though you could feel it in the air. That moment was anything but innocent.

- "Yeah, I've been working out a little bit."- Spencer answered and chuckled at his own words.

- "Well, you are going to have to learn how to control your new strength, 'cos this is going to leave a bruise"- (Y/N) whined and showed him her sore wrist. Spencer winced, ashamed he had been so hard on her without meaning any harm. He moved closer to her and held her wrist carefully. (Y/N) just looked at him as he kissed her wrist a few times.

That man couldn't be real. He was such a tease.

Did he know all the things he was, in fact, doing to her with that simple touch?

He surely had to know. Otherwise, there was no explanation, she thought.

- "Thanks"- (Y/N) whispered and fixed her eyes on his lips, still landing small kisses on her wrist.

That was when she stopped breathing. Spencer was literally breathtaking. He smiled at her, and she just couldn't help it anymore. (Y/N) leaned in and kissed him. It was a soft, short peck. But she had dared to do the unthinkable.

She kissed her best friend.

Spencer widened his eyes, shocked, and looked at her, not saying a word. They just stayed still for a good thirty seconds until Spencer finally made his move, cupping her jaw carefully with both hands and pulling her face against his.

The way she moaned into the kiss made him feel more in control than he had ever been before.

It was a soft kiss but intense. Spencer's lips rubbed carefully against her mouth, and his tongue moved carefully, making its way until he could taste her. (Y/N) moved closer to him until she was basically sitting on his lap, and his arms wrapped around her body, locking her against him.

They were in heaven.

Until it was over. Their phones buzzed at the same time, breaking the spell, ending the charm. (Y/N) jumped from Spencer's arms and grabbed her phone.

- "We've got a case"- she whispered and turned to him. He was agitated, his cheeks were red, his pants felt tight, and he was starving for more of those kisses.

- "Ok."- he replied but didn't move.

- "I'm gonna change, then we can go."- (Y/N) added, but he didn't say a word. To be fair, Spencer wasn't processing what was going on. He was still trying to elaborate a coherent thought. And most of all, he was fighting the boner in his pants that didn't let him stand up.

You could blame all the sugar in his body after the massive bowl of ice cream, or all the praising (Y/N) had given him, but Spencer found a new level of courage in that kiss. He decided it was time to stop overthinking it. It was time to act on his feelings.

- "(Y/N)"- Reid knocked on her bedroom door and heard her from the walking closet.

- "I'm almost ready. Did you talk with Garcia?"

- "No, but I don't wanna leave things like this. I wanted to talk about what just happened."

(Y/N) sighed and took a look at herself in the mirror. She could still feel her cheeks burning after that kiss, after feeling her best friend hard underneath her body, holding her against him. But she wasn't sure she wanted to hear what Reid was about to say. Most of all, because she was sure it was going to be something along the lines: "That kiss was a mistake, you are my friend. I don't wanna ruin this."

- "That kiss was..."- he mumbled and walked to her as soon as she showed up in the room, but words were hard to find when she looked at him that way.

- "Spencer, I..."- she tried to speak, but he just continued.

- "Would you like to..."

- "Pretend it didn't happen?"

- "Go out on a date with me?"- the two of them said at the same time and widened their eyes in shock.

- "What?"- (Y/N) questioned and stared at her best friend in shock- "You want to go out with me?"

- "You want to pretend it never happened?"- he asked her, scared he might have rushed to the wrong conclusions.

- "No, no, no, I don't... I can't pretend it didn't happen"- (Y/N) quickly answered and held Spencer's hand, afraid she might have ruined everything.

- "I was just scared you were going to reject me or..."- (Y/N) bt her lips and dared to look at him- "I wanna go out on a date with you"- she whispered and watched his whole face change as a big silly grin drawn on his lips.

- "Really?"- he murmured, still not sure it was actually happening. He asked her out. She said yes. He was sure that was never going to happen in real life.

- "Really"- she assured him and leaned in slowly to kiss him one more time. But her phone rang again, and so did his. This time it was a message from Hotch. Wheels up as soon as they reached the FBI.

- "But after we catch the bad guy."- (Y/N) added, and Spencer chuckled.

- "Sounds like a plan."

Spencer Reid’s taglist:

@calm-and-doctor @all-tings-diego

Requested by @shilohpug

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #babymetaldoll writes #babymetaldoll edits

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tfwlawyers · 3 years ago

Note

Not me singlehandedly going through your entire parent trap au I’m so invested even though like half of the posts are from 2015 💀

THESE THINGS HAPPEN I get such a kick out of knowing this au is still making its rounds though 😭😭

and yk what just because I know I’m never going to do anything else with this, have a 3.5k attempted scramble of fic for this au I tried writing back also in 2015. i was even less of a writer back then than I am now so it’s absolutely terrible but have at thee

“Oh, wait...” Trucy winced and tapped her earring. Apollo’s eyes widened in realization. “Looks like we have one more thing to do tonight - it’ll be super quick, I promise.”

“Oh no,” Apollo said, visibly paling, “there’s no way you’re doing that to me-”

“Then cutting my hair was a total waste,” Trucy huffed, tugging at a newly shorn lock, “because there’s no way I can go to camp with pierced ears and come home without. Come on, Polly, where’s your sense of adventure? It’s just one little pinch!”

“Just one?” he asked hesitantly, eyes now trained on the sharp needle laying on the table.

Trucy paused. “Well... I guess it’s technically two. I really only wear the one earring, but both my ears are pierced.”

Apollo sighed. “Great.”

“Nah, I got this,” Trucy said, grinning toothily. “I went with Aunt Maya when she wanted to get hers pierced, even though she chickened out at the last second.” She picked up the needle and a book of matches from the table, eyes glinting. “I had to get mine repierced because of infection the first time too. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

“Put that apple slice back,” Apollo said, narrowing his eyes at the piece of fruit in Trucy’s hands. “They’re acidic, I don’t need that anywhere near me and oh God you’re really going to shove a piece of metal into my ear, aren’t you-”

“You sure I look okay?” he asked, patting down the skirt. He squinted down at the stark white boots he’d thankfully fit into. “I’m terrified to walk in these, they look like death traps -”

“Which is why we’re practicing,” Trucy said primly, wiping her hands on a gel-stained rag. She still didn’t quite have a grasp on the correct ratio of product to actual hair, but she was much better than when they had started five weeks ago. “Now, walk towards me.”

“One last thing, I guess,” Apollo said, removing his bracelet and handing it to Trucy, watching as she carefully slid it on. He rubbed his now bare wrist absentmindedly, feeling strangely naked without it.

“So... this is really it. We’re really doing this.”

“We’re really doing this,” Trucy confirmed, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. For all her apparent enthusiasm, she looked as nervous as he felt. The studs in her ears reflected the morning light.

“Give papa a hug for me,” he said, smiling weakly.

“Give daddy one for me too,” she said.

They hesitated a moment more before Trucy threw her arms around her brother’s shoulders. Apollo’s arms immediately snaked around her waist, drawing her in tight. They clung to each other, silently willing and praying this was somehow going to all work out - that they wouldn’t just to get to meet their other parent, that they wouldn’t only get a few short weeks with the other father they hadn’t even known had existed, but that they could find some way to reconcile the two, that they wouldn’t have to lose anyone across the wide expanse of the Atlantic ever again.

“You’ve had your ears pierced,” he said almost absently, cradling her head between his hands and gently turning her neck back and forth to better view the studs. He clicked his tongue. Trucy felt her heart sink.

“Do you... hate them?” she asked tentatively.

Edgeworth’s eyes snapped to hers. They were the same soft gray color as the paint Daddy always kept too much of around the house. “On the contrary - I find they suit you incredibly well. Please tell me you didn’t get an infection.”

Her face split into a wide smile.

Apollo thumbed through a stack of canvases that had been shoved into a corner. There was a thin layer of dust of them; if he had to guess, he’d say they hadn’t been disturbed for at least three months - not a particularly long stretch of time, all things considered. They were clearly less polished works, lacking the technical skill and attention to detail that made Phoenix Wright a name to be reckoned with in the art community, but they were still beautiful in their own way. Paintings of vineyards and what looked like London, towering skyscrapers and calm seas and -

His father.

Apollo blinked.

The portrait of Miles Edgeworth drawn in rich oils did not blink back. Nor did the three that followed.

“There were a lot of paintings of the same person in daddy’s works. Some guy with grey hair,” Apollo said, struggling for nonchalance.

Maya’s grip on the mixing bowl faltered. “Is that so,” she said carefully.

“Was he one of daddy’s favorite models or something he just never told me about?”

Maya pursed her lips and continued stirring with a newfound vigor. “You could say that.”

“You’re not Apollo?” he asked, voice thick. “You’re Trucy?”

She smiled weakly. “That would be correct.” One strand of hair fell lank across her forehead - how did I not notice, Apollo hasn’t used nearly that much gel in years - and he absentmindedly tucked it behind her ear. He felt her press into the warmth of his hand, as if she were afraid he might suddenly vanish across the Atlantic again.

“I hope you don’t - I hope you don’t hate me,” she said, voice beginning to waver, “it’s just that Polly and I met at the camp and the whole thing sort of just spilled out. I’ve wanted to see you for so long, and Polly felt exactly the same way about Daddy, so we sort of just - just switched lives and hoped it wouldn’t take you so soon to notice. I really hope you don’t hate me, because I’ve wanted to meet you basically my whole life and I hope that maybe one day you can love me for me and not Polly and -” (this is ALL from movie tho so mix this up)

Edgeworth’s left hand came to cradle the rest of Trucy’s face, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Oh, my dear,” he said, cautiously tugging her forward. She came willingly, all but sprawling across his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin and wrapping her arms around his middle. “I’ve loved you since the day you came to me,” he whispered into her hair, blinking away the beginnings of tears he felt gathering at the corner of his eyes. He felt her tighten her hold and he did the same.

He poured himself a thumbnail of scotch, perfectly content to pretend he didn’t have tickets to a plane back to a state he had vowed never to set foot in again departing in less than four hours. “He was rather handsome,” he found himself admitting, absentmindedly swirling the glass and taking a sip. He paused, staring at nothing and mumbling to himself, “...had the most crooked smile. Always made me weak at the knees.”

“What was that, sir?”

Edgeworth snapped his attention back to the other man; he’d nearly forgotten Gumshoe was even in the room. “Nothing, nothing, never mind, have you seen the tickets?”

Gumshoe shrugged. That was Trucy’s cue.

“Almost ready, papa?” she asked, stepping smoothly into the room from her hiding place behind the thick wooden door. Edgeworth looked just as wild-eyed as she’d been hoping.

“Yes, of course, I’m almost finished packing -”

She didn’t even have to look at his still mostly bare suitcase to know he was lying.

“ -and you did tell your father we were coming, didn’t you?” he finished, placing his drink on a nearby dresser and running his fingers shakily through his hair.

“Absolutely,” Trucy promised.

“Ah,” Edgeworth said, fiddling with his waistcoat buttons. They looked like they’d been polished recently.

“Liar,” Gumshoe leaned down to whisper. She shushed him.

“Might I suggest we continue this little gathering inside,” Maya said, already beginning to shepherd the twins - the twins, she was going to need another vacation just to process the fact that they were together again - into the room. She twisted back around to look at Edgeworth, still shoving Apollo (that was Apollo, right?) forward. “Hi,” she began again, offering a free hand, “you probably don’t remember me -”

“Maya!” he interrupted, smiling warmly and bending to kiss her chastely on the cheek. His breath was sour with vodka and his glasses clunked awkwardly against her face. As he turned and stepped fully into the room, Maya’s cheeks(rp) began to hurt from smiling so fiercely.

“I knew I always liked him,” she said to no one as she closed the door.

This was ridiculous. This resort was full of entirely too many people who favored the same sort of eccentric clothing that man had even fourteen years ago, a disproportionate amount of them with the same slate grey hair. He almost would have written that (awkward*) expression seen from across Dahlia’s shoulder/a hotel lobby as a figment of his overtaxed imagination had it not been so much realer than the stacks of canvases in his studio. Which meant Miles was here, but he’d swept the first level of the hotel twice already after begging Dahlia to take to her room for a bit, the pool area was as depressingly empty as the inside was, and -

There he was.

Across the pool, descending the steps carefully from the inside lounge area and walking on the balls of his feet like he always did when he’d had a bit too much to drink (and why did he still remember that) was, without a doubt, Miles Edgeworth.

Phoenix suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

Edgeworth was halfway down the opposite path before Phoenix realized he should probably do something.

“Excuse me,” he said, shouldering his way through the crowd. It would be rude and more than a little intrusive to just call out his ex-husband’s name in the middle of a resort, right? Perhaps not as rude as nearly shoving the poor bellboy into the shrubbery, but, well, desperate times called for desperate measures.

He didn’t immediately notice the odd assortment of friends and family and a lumbering man in striped green swimming trunks perched on pool chairs as he stepped past, but they certainly noticed him.

“Daddy, are you okay?” Trucy asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said vaguely, refusing to take his eyes off Edgeworth. He was abruptly terrified he might vanish again if he did.

“Nick, watch out -”

“Hey, pal -”

“Daddy -”

With that, Phoenix collided into a passing service boy, arms pinwheeling wildly as he fell directly into the pool behind him.

“Hello Miles,” he said, smiling sheepishly and wringing out his tie. He fought the urge to rub the back of his neck and settled for clenching his hands into tight fists instead. “Or do you people call you Edgeworth now?”

“Miles is - Miles is fine,” Edgeworth said weakly, trying to look anywhere but Phoenix, as if this was a perfectly normal conversation they should be having for the first time after fifteen years. “My father still calls me Miles.”

Something warm coiled in his chest. It felt infinitely more dangerous than it had fifteen years ago.

“You always had a smart mouth,” he murmured, rubbing a swathe of cleaning ointment along the cut on Phoenix’s forehead. Phoenix hissed.

“So glad you remembered,” he bit through gritted teeth.

“Hush.”

Phoenix hmmed but stayed silent for a few more seconds, staring at Edgeworth as he dug back into the first aid kit. Edgeworth tried not to flush under the scrutiny.

Phoenix held his wrist in a loose grip. He should have felt clammy from the pool and the rapidly descending night, but he blazed oddly hot against Edgeworth’s skin.

“Miles, I-”

“Feenie? Who is this?”

“Dollie!” Phoenix said, shooting upright and wincing at the sudden dizziness.

Edgeworth’s burgundy coat was hung carefully over his arm, too thick for the warm California night. The buttons on his waistcoat glinted from a nearby streetlamp’s glow.

Phoenix swallowed.

“Do you have any idea where they’re taking us?” Edgeworth asked, leaning in slightly. Phoenix’s (nose twitched? something about scent memory?) and he refused to let himself acknowledge that Miles’s choice of aftershave hadn’t changed since the day they’d met. He abruptly remembered the taste of cheap wine and overly sweet cake on his tongue, felt the ghost weight of a ring fifteen years gone.

He hastily turned away.

“No idea.”

“Grandfather chipped in a bit -”

“Apollo,” Edgeworth warned.

“Alright, so Grandfather chipped in a lot, whatever, we’re poor teenagers, the point is,” he said, emphasizing the final word by pulling the ship’s impressive doors open with a firm tug, “it’s ours for the night.”

Phoenix whistled shrilly in appreciation, instinctively reaching out to ruffle Apollo’s hair. It was a testament to how important the night was that Apollo merely batted Phoenix’s hand away. “Seriously, dad,” he mumbled. His scowl was clearly forced, however; he felt oddly warm that he was able to finally use that word at all.

“Subtle,” Phoenix remarked.

“Mm,” Edgeworth agreed. “I don’t suppose we should let their efforts, however misguided they may be, go to waste, should we?”

“You just want to know who else they roped into this ridiculous scheme of theirs.”

“Oh, because you don’t.”

“I,” Phoenix said, moving to the chilled champagne propped by the windowsill and popping its cork, “have a perfectly healthy level of curiosity. It does not involve wondering what’s going on in my kid’s head. Trucy is a teenager. That’s terrifying.” He carefully poured the sparkling drink into two glasses and offered one to Edgeworth.

“I find that somewhat difficult to believe,” Edgeworth said, striding forward and taking the proffered glass. He made certain their fingers did not brush. “Thank you.”

They waited until she had hastily bowed out of the room before turning their focus back to each other. “Miles, that’s why we came up with this arrangement in the first place,” Phoenix continued, nonplussed.

“Really?” Edgeworth carefully picked up his glass flute, trying to ignore the tremor he felt running through his hands. “I thought it was because we’d agreed to never see each other again.”

Phoenix’s heart clenched. “Not ‘we’, Miles,” he said slowly, spreading his hands on the tablecloth and feeling like if he missed a step here, he would risk something he couldn’t afford to lose again.

Edgeworth took a shaky draw of wine. “You know,” he said slowly, seemingly forcing himself to meet Phoenix’s eyes, “that part is unclear to me as well.”

“Oh, you don’t remember the day you packed?” Phoenix asked.

“No, I remember that day perfectly. Did I hurt you when I threw that - oh God, what was it -”

“It was Kamisar’s Modern Criminal Procedure. It left a dent in the wall from where it rebounded off my head.”

“Oh,” Edgeworth said, at least having the grace to look properly abashed. “Right. Sorry.”

Phoenix shrugged. “It’s not like I was making it that easy on you.

And....” Edgeworth trailed off, twisting a napkin between his fingers. “You didn’t chase after me.”

Phoenix felt (something) shift. “I didn’t know that you wanted me to.”

“A toast to -”

“Our children,” Edgeworth cut in. He ignored the tightening in his chest at the our.

“Our children,” Phoenix repeated slowly, as if the words didn’t quite match with what his mouth had wanted to say.

“We both got where we actually wanted to go.”

Phoenix’s eyes never wavered from his. “We did,” he said, voice strange.

They toasted again and finished their meal in silence.

“Apollo, what are you doing in those clothes? We’ve got a plane to catch.”

“We’re getting totally ripped off,” maybe-Trucy said. “Daddy said we’d get our camping trip and we want to go.”

“Wait, hang on,” Phoenix interrupted, “what camping trip?”

“The one Aunt Maya and I make you take us on every year before school starts,” almost-definitely-Trucy said. Phoenix began to lift his finger in triumph, sure he’d found his kid -

“ -the one behind the house that runs all the way up to Gourd Lake, remember when you fell in that one year,” I’m-not-too-sure-if-this-one-is-still-in-fact-Apollo finished.

Phoenix’s arm fell listlessly to his side. Edgeworth snorted.

Phoenix shot Edgeworth a look. Thanks for helping, one of these is yours. “This is entirely unfunny, you’re going to make your father miss his flight,” he said, shifting his attention back to the twins. Honestly, he was an Ivy University graduate and Miles was a world renowned defense attorney, how were they being duped by their own kids -

“Apollo -” Edgeworth began.

“Yes?” they both said in unison.

Edgeworth groaned. “They get this from you, I’m sure,” he said.

“It’s not my fault you’ve apparently been raising a devilishly deceptive teenager,” Phoenix quipped back, never taking his eyes off the twins. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine pound at the base of his neck. “He’s probably rubbed off on Trucy.”

The twins grinned.

Phoenix rubbed a hand over his eyes before stooping to their height once again. He stared hard at each of them, looking back and forth between their faces. “This one’s Trucy,” he said slowly, pointing a finger to the sibling in orange. “I’m positive.”

“You know, I hope you’re right, Daddy. You wouldn’t want to send the wrong kid all the way back to Germany - ”

“ - would you?”

How was any of this fair?

“Here’s our proposition. We go back to Daddy’s house, pack our stuff, and the four of us leave on the camping trip.”

“The four of us?” Edgeworth interjected. They ignored him.

“And when you bring us back,” maybe-Trucy-maybe-Apollo continued, “we’ll tell you who’s Trucy and who’s Apollo.”

“Or,” Edgeworth said, carefully stepping around and in front of Phoenix and crossing his arms firmly across his chest, tapping his finger rhythmically against his arm, “new plan. I take one of you back to Germany with me whether you like it or not.”

Two identical sets of eyes twinkled back at him.

(He felt a migraine beginning to pound in his left temple.)

“You can cook now?” Edgeworth asked.

“Oh yeah,” Phoenix said. “I can make pasta. And pasta. Probably more pasta, if you ask really nicely.”

“Hm,” Edgeworth said, eyebrows scrunched in mock thought, “pasta sounds good.”

Phoenix grinned, bumping Edgeworth’s shoulder. He was warm through the cotton. “Pasta it is.”

Edgeworth looked across the seat at Apollo. His glassy eyes reflected the flickering street lamps as the taxi sped down the empty street.

“Apollo, I -” he began, deflating as Apollo turned further away. It’s entirely justified, he thought despondently. I’d hate myself as well.

“Grandfather?” Apollo called, shrugging out of his heavy jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. The house was silent.

“I’ll check the study,” Edgeworth said, tugging his jabot loose. Apollo nodded and headed towards the direction of the kitchen, toeing off his shoes on the way. Pushing open the wide doors that led to the study, Edgeworth saw someone reading a paper at the desk. He cocked his hip against the door and crossed his arms. “Hello, father. We’re back.”

The newspaper lowered. It wasn’t Gregory.

“Hiya, papa,” Trucy said. The corners of her mouth were quirked despite her obvious attempts to reign in her expression. “Did you know the Concord gets you here in half the time?”

Edgeworth slipped against the doorframe. He felt the knob dig into his hip. “I - yes, I’ve heard that.”

(Edgeworth was acutely aware of the doorknob digging into his hip from when he pressed against it. “I - yes, I’ve heard that.”)

Apollo walked into the room, drawn to the sound of voices. When he saw Trucy his face split into a blinding grin. “What are you doing here?”

Trucy neatly folded the newspaper on the desk and clasped her hands in front of her. “It took us about thirty seconds after you left that we decided we didn’t want to lose you two again,” she said, eyes crinkling.

Edgeworth swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “We?” he said, voice cracking.

“We,” a new voice agreed.

From the corner of his eye, Edgeworth noted Trucy moving to stand by the far wall of the study, giving the vaguest attempt of privacy. It didn’t matter. His eyes were trained on Phoenix, tracking his movement as he crossed the room.

Phoenix peppered his face in light kisses, smiling into the curve of his throat and pressing his lips to the thrumming heartbeat beneath his skin.

They eventually pulled back, desperate for air. Phoenix’s eyes crinkled - crow’s feet, Edgeworth thought wildly through his haze, he’s got crow’s feet now, I haven’t seen him this close up since - and he rested his forehead against Edgeworth’s.

“God, I’m never letting you go again,” he whispered, hands snaking around the other man’s back to pull him even closer.

“You want to toast with this? I’d have thought you might want to upgrade to something with a little more class.”

Phoenix smiled sloppily, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. “You’re the only one I said I’d drink it with, remember?”

Edgeworth smiled back. He took the proffered bottle warmed by the weather and tugged his husband into a proper kiss, matching rings glinting in the dying sunlight.

#bluefaewren #replies #parent trap au #attempting to write tag

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