#as someone w years of chem this is embarrassing

[writteninkat]

Hey Kat how are youuu 💞 i hope everything's fine :) i'm literally so excited to read the my brother's bf fic 😭💕💕 later i saw a post you reblogged: https://writteninkat.tumblr.com/post/657547669698396160 could you turn this into a fic pleaseee 😩 we need that 😭🥺🥺 maybe slutty!Fem reader asking bakugou for study help although she's only horny and while he tries to study with her: explain smth to her she starts that freaky shit hihi

i wish u a great week end. btw i got a big crush on a boy who works with me 🥺 but i'm sooooo shy and NOT ME whenever i'm around him i hate it. i know that we would vibe idk:/ he is a friend of my older sister and i got the feeling that he sees me as a child (he's only 4 years older) i hate it here lmao

xo💞🌟💕

Quizzed | Bakugou x Reader

summary: You ask Katsuki for help with your studies but that was all a ruse to let out all your sexual frustrations on him.

w/c: 1.9k

warnings: fingering, oral (m!receiving), katsuki calling reader slut once

a/n: hiii i'm doing well!! <3 hope you are too!! and LMAO i get what you mean!! i turn into a completely different person whenever i'm with someone i like but i try practicing just being my self lol why don't you test out the waters, give him some hints ;)) update me about it then hehe

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Katsuki Bakugou is good at anything and everything he tries. He's got an amazing, flashy quirk, he's smart, has an explosive personality and you can't deny he's handsome.

God's favorite child; that's what he is.

And you're obsessed. You love how he smells so sweet, how soft red spills over the tips of his ears and his cheeks when he's flustered or embarrassed, the deep grunts and melodic moans that slip out his lips.

He turns into your vulnerable little bitch under your softest touch. And you love it.

College isn't easy, not by any means. Unlike highschool or middle school, you're the one chasing after your professors, you're the one who teaches yourself, you're the one who has to grind in order to get a good grade and graduate.

It's times like these, during hell week, that you regret not choosing the hero course. They don't need to go to college, they become heroes after highschool and from the stories of your friends, hero work seems to be a much more enjoyable job than in a hospital doing rounds.

You sigh, mind tired and body aching all over as you plop onto the couch. Your boyfriend, number two hero Dynamite, is busy cooking the both of you dinner. "Long day?" He asks.

As much as you want to claim that all you want to do is eat whatever your boyfriend is cooking, wash up and cuddle with him till you fall asleep, you can't. You'd be lying.

You're frustrated and you want to let out some steam. And the fact that your boyfriend is cooking in your shared kitchen with nothing but black sweats that hang loosely over his hips and an apron doesn't help.

You nod quietly, sitting on one of the counter stools just to watch him cook. As your eyes greedily rake over his ripped arms, toned back and occasionally his built chest, the gears in your head begin turning as you think about how to get him to fuck your stress out your body.

"Let me guess, you wanna sleep after you fill that tummy of yours?" He doesn't really talk like this, but you appreciate how he acknowledges your trouble. You pout in response, "Can't. I still have to study a few lessons in chem."

Study.

If he weren't busy with the food, Katsuki would have seen how your face visibly brightened at your idea. "Help me out? Please?"

He eyes you from the side as he shrugs his shoulders. "I probably won't be of any help, but I can try."

Oh you'll be of big help.

You have your Chemistry book, notes and the periodic table laid out on your desk as Katsuki walks in with two cups of tea; steam still floating from above it. You feel bad–he even bothered to prepare tea for the both of you but you know neither of you will be taking sips from the tea cups any time soon.

You smile when he sets the cups down, standing from your seat to push him to sit down on it instead. He looks at you with confusion in his eyes but don’t ask, prompting to check the topic you “need help with”.

“Ah, I think I’ve read about this topic before.” The moment his words leave his lips, your hand flies onto his shoulder as you lean over. “So you know how this is the atomic number, right?” You nod at his question, hand running up and down his built shoulder as a start.

He looks over at your hand, his then flicking up at you before returning to your opened textbook, shrugging off your suspicious actions.

By the time he’s finished discussing and explaining the topic, you’ve sat yourself on his lap, one arm over his shoulders playing his ear as the other runs up and down his chest. “You understand now?” He asks, looking up at you as you nod your head.

“Yeah,” You lean over, pressing your lips on his. Your soft pinks stay on his pair a little longer than usual. You pull away slowly, your hand now cupping his jaw as you look deeply into his eyes.

He raises a brow, “What was that for?”

You shake your head, eyes drifting from his eyes to his lips as your thumb traces over his lower lip. “You’re just so sexy, teaching me like this. So smart.”

You lean forward, pressing your lips against his once again as his hands drop to your hips, thumbs caressing the exposed skin. You part your lips from each other, allowing his tongue to slither inside your wet cavern, tasing you.

You rise onto your knees, setting yourself on his lap to straddle him as Katsuki continues to kiss you passionately. All your stress, all your concerns, all your anxiety always washes away whenever Katsuki kisses you, when he holds you, like this.

“You have to be studying.” He breathes into the kiss.

“I’d rather study something else.”

Your fingers hook themselves on the hem of his shirt, pulling it up, exposing his hard abs. You run your palm over the exposed skin, fingers following ever bump, ever rise, every dip before you inch your fingers inside his sweats. Katsuki grabs onto your wrist, stopping you, eyebrows creased in confusion.

“Study.” He says, sternly.

“Fuck me.” You say. Sternly.

Within the next second, your hand is pushed into his pants, caressing his length, fondling his balls, and Katsuki sits there beneath you with his hands clutched into fists and his breathing heavy but controlled.

You slowly wiggle yourself off of him until you’re kneeling on the carpeted floor, your fingers pulling his pants down as your gaze keeps itself in his eyes.

Katsuki closes his eyes slowly, jaw clenched and head craned upward. You snicker, pulling his hard cock out of his pants. Your mouth visibly waters at the sight and you feel your pussy clench at the sight of his wet tip–pre cum already leaking out of it.

You lean forward, sticking your tongue out, pressing it against the base only to run it upwards to the pink head. You enclose the tip with your lips before pushing your head down, taking his entire length as you fight the tears from spilling. You miss this so much–Katsuki’s taste, how he skips a breath and fights his moans when you take all of him, the way he has to physically stop himself from getting too rough with you.

You’re sloppy when giving head–saliva dripping down his cock and the chair, saliva dripping down the corners of your mouth, pre cum smeared on the tip of your nose and cheeks. When Katsuki looks down at you for the first time, and you look back at him with a shit-eating grin and all messy, he cums almost immediately.

You laugh, allowing his release to splatter all over your face.

You wipe a dripping one from your cheek, into your mouth, sucking on your finger all while looking at him straight int the eye.

Katsuki breathes heavily before pulling you up from your knees. He pulls you by the waist, pushing your shorts down, letting them pool around your ankles. He pushes you onto your desk, having pushed all your study materials off the top to give you space. He lifts both your legs up, resting them over his shoulders as he looks at your glistening pussy, admiring the way it looks before pushing a finger in. Pretty and strangled moans slip out your lips as you throw your head back.

“How do you solve for the mass number of an element?”

A quiz? Really? Now?

Your brows knit together as you look down at him, to which he simply raises a demanding brow. He curls the fingers inside you and you feel your soul leave your body for a moment, making you gasp in surprise.

“You–oh god–you add the number of protons and–“ You squeak when he suddenly adds another finger inside, “–and the number of neutrons!”

“Who discovered the first subatomic particle?” Katsuki quickens his pace and you feel your legs shaking. “JJ Thomp–nnggh!–Thompson!”

“When?”

“1896!”

He adds in a third finger and the stretch has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Give me a rule for naming ions.” He curls his fingers inside you and for a moment your mind goes blank, earning an irritated growl from Katsuki. “Shit, Katsu!” You cry out, “The charge of an ion–oh fuck–can b-be determined–“ Your back arches at the feeling of your high quickly arriving. “–by its place on the periodic table!”

Your cunt clenched around his fingers greedily as your hips move in circles on their own, riding out your orgasm. Your chest rises and falls heavily, finally, it’s been too fucking long.

Katsuki pulls his fingers out of you and you whine at how sensitive your pussy still is. You watch as he brings his fingers into his mouth, lapping up your juices coating his digits and your kitty clenches around nothing, as if you hadn’t just cum.

The pro hero grabs you by your waist, sitting on your chair. He aligns his cock in line with your hole, letting you slowly lower yourself on his cock, your cunt greedily taking his entire length.

“What method do you use when writing formulas for ionic compounds?” You’re already moving your hips before he even finishes his question.

“The crossover method.” You whisper.

“Hump on it, you slut. If you’re that desperate to fuck yourself with my cock, do it properly.”

Following his words, you start rising before lowering yourself on his cock. The feeling makes your legs want to turn into jelly, but the thought of not getting to feel this way has you fighting the urge.

“Give me the formula for Iron and Oxygen.” Katsuki grips at your waist, now moving your hips the way he wants you to move it.

The feeling of his cock stretching you open, the feeling of it hitting your g-spot again and again and again, his fingernails digging onto your skin and your brain wracking itself for the correct answer–everything overwhelms you too much.

“Fe2O3!” It comes out as a whine, making Katsuki chuckle.

“What about Barium and Sodium?”

He’s thrusting upwards now, allowing you to lessen your efforts, giving you more chance to clear your head even for a little bit. “Ba3Na2.”

“That’s right.” He whispers into your ear, “That’s my smart little girl.”

Katsuki carries you by your thighs as he stands. For a moment, you think he’ll head for the bed but he’s setting you back onto your desk. Feeling this, he answers your silent confusion. “It’s a bad idea to study on the bed.” He tilts his head to the side, “You might fall asleep. We can’t have that.”

He begins thrusting into you, your desk hitting against the wall every time.

“Recite the greek prefixes for naming hydrated salts.” You feel another orgasm coming. “One to ten. Do it correctly and I’ll let you cum.”

Weird boost of inspiration.

“Mono, di, tri–shit, Katsu!–Tetra, penta, hexa, hepta, octa, nona–“ He thrusts deeply inside you, pulling an orgasm out of you. You gasp as your pussy clenches around his cock. You look at him in the eye, a smile stretched across your face. “–deca.”

Katsuki continues thrusting inside you, his own high following not long after.

Your body falls onto the desk like lava–hot and pulsing.

Katsuki pulls his sweats up, helping you with your own bottoms before slapping your ass. “I’m giving you three more quizzes later.” Your eyes widen at his words to which he grins cockily at. “So make sure you study hard.”

You got to answer every number in your test the following days, but not without a cost. The mere section of writing formulas for ionic compounds has you clenching your thighs together.

[seungminotes]

A Walk Home 

best friends to lovers w/ Kim Seungmin

a/n: I'm back from my hiatus and happy to say that I really like this piece tho it got kinda dramatic lmao hope you like it too! Always feel free to leave feedback!

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: cursing (like twice?) / gender neutral (please tell me if I messed up with something) / sort of slow-burn and not much payoff but I'd like to think it's very fluffy throughout!

"What took you so long today? I've been waiting here for at least 5 minutes," Seungmin complained at the sight of you finally approaching him. 

It usually didn't take you this long to reach him from your last class, heck sometimes he even had to drink water and you'd get to your usual meeting spot before him. 

Seungmin wasn't particularly the best at waiting on others, for whatever the reason really, he would have probably left anybody else behind by now. But alas, it was you he had been waiting for, and if facing the possibility of having to wait even longer for you, he most likely would. 

"Sorry, I had to talk to someone before leaving," you smiled at your friend, who was now pouting slightly.

You reached up to pinch his cheeks only for him to slap your hands away. 

"No pinching, let's go," he grabbed your wrist, dragging you in the direction of your usual route home. 

You'd known Seungmin for nearly six years now. Having met him when you both were in middle school after moving to the then new town, Seungmin had once been quite fickle towards you, but once he got over his initial disinterest, he realized you were quite special. You'd spotted him taking pictures of the daisies in his front lawn and annoyed him to no end to explain his interest in them. You remember the day vividly, especially now that the firm grip Seungmin held on your wrist highly resembled the same he held on that very first day you met him. 

-

"Aren't daisies a bit plain?" You snuck up behind the boy crouching in an awkward position, clutching his camera so tight his fingers were losing color. 

Seungmin held no reaction to the sudden appearance of someone around his own age spying on him from the sidewalk in front of his own home. In fact, he sighed with a tinge of annoyance at your unwithheld statement and hardly looked up at you, why couldn’t people mind their own business, he thought to himself. 

"I find them quite interesting, actually." He deadpanned, no intention of expanding upon his opinion to someone who he already deemed to be unworthy of his time.

Damn Seungmin was quite stubborn back then, he had barely even glanced at you, but good thing you were quite nosy. 

"How come?" You inquired further. 

Thirteen-year-old Seungmin was not in the mood to explain the complexities of a perfectly amazing daisy to someone who would most likely not care as much as he did about capturing their beauty. 

Nonetheless, he glanced back to where he had seen you standing to notice your figure now hunched over, examining a daisy closely, nose almost touching it's petals, as your lips parted slightly to blow softly onto the flower, clearly in your own little world.

Your rather odd gestures told him you may actually be interested in what could possibly be interesting about the small flowers sparse all over his lawn. 

He slowly approached you, more aware of your presence than before, and snapped God knows how many photos of your posing.

That was at least until he saw your hand reach up to pick the delicate flower from its stem. That’s where he drew the line! Promptly walking over to you and tightly withholding your hand with his awkward grip on your wrist. 

You’d taken the opportunity to look into his big, brown eyes and examine his now blushed face, ultimately deciding this boy was inexplicably ethereal. You could drown in the deepness of his irises and the urge to pinch his pouty cheeks was overpowering your own sense of respectfulness to this stranger. 

-

You remember how he later apologized and  quietly explained to you the meaning of daisies. After bringing out two peanut butter jelly sandwiches from the kitchen onto his porch, where the both of you shared the lunch, he began to ramble on to you about the perfections of a simple flower that was not so simple at all and it's symbolism of true love. 

And from that very moment on, you knew you had fallen in love with Kim Seungmin, the nerd next door who explained the very composition of flowers to you over a sandwich at age 13. 

And unbeknownst to you, Kim Seungmin had developed a disgustingly soft spot in his heart for his absent-minded  new friend next door. 

-

Nothing much had changed now. You were still hopelessly in love with Seungmin, who was as focused as ever on his studies and baseball team activities just six years later. 

-

The memory and realization fade just as soon as it came to you with Seungmin's grip on your wrist, which now that you look back down was still quite firm about a minute into your usual walk home. 

Though you could almost guarantee it wasn't anything intentionally done by Seungmin, it didn't fail to put a stupid smile on your face. 

So far Seungmin had noticed your rather quiet disposition, something he deemed off about you.

"Are you okay?" He asked. 

"Perfectly fine," you grinned, narrowing your eyes into happy crescents as you lifted the arm that currently clinged Seungmin's own hand, much to his embarrassment. 

He'd quickly released your arm at your teasing, opting to scratch the back of his head as he scoffed. 

"Who'd you stay to talk with today?" He asked. You'd assumed he was simply trying to change the subject from his embarrassment, but in fact, the thought of who you could have possibly spent just five minutes with after school had been eating him alive for the past minute. You had never made him wait, at least not without some sort of warning.

"Just a guy in my chem class, I met him by my locker on the way out," you responded, not giving your answer much thought. 

"What did he want?" He asked again. 

Seungmin sure had been asking an awful lot today. 

"Don't be so nosy, Seungmin! It really doesn’t suit you. It doesn't really matter much anyway. And how do you know I wasn't the one who wanted something from him, huh?" You teased him slightly, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"Can't I ask about the whereabouts of my best friend when they leave me out in the hot, melting sun waiting for them!" He teased back, stopping in his tracks to begin to poke your sides harshly.

"Fine, fine, fine!" You give in. "Just stopppppp," you shook his hands away.

"Hyunjin offered to tutor me in chem. I'm officially failing," you laugh off, "he wanted to ask what days we should schedule our study sessions for." You explained.

"Wait, Hyunjin? As in Hwang Hyunjin? The pretty one?" Seungmin's eyes widen at the thought of a rather good looking and outgoing guy offering you tutoring lessons out of the goodness of his heart, he almost scoffs out loud. 

"Stop asking so many questions, Min!" You softly punch his arm, bursting his thought bubble. 

"Besides, 'the pretty one', Min? I didn't know you liked Hyunjin like that? Want me to put in a good word for you?" You teased further, laughing at his choice of words. Sure, Hyunjin was pretty well known by most for his good looks, but he had simply offered you help in your studies in a subject he happened to excel in and that had no such thing to do with his looks. 

"Shut up," he rolled his eyes, taking his turn to lightly punch you back from before. 

Afterwards the walk fell to a comfortable silence between the two of  you. 

At least that was how you would describe it to be. While you happily hummed and thought of what snacks you could whip up once you got home, Seungmin seriously pondered why you hadn't told him you weren't doing so well in chemistry. Or why you hadn't come to him for help first, he had already taken the class after all? And why the very thought of Hwang Hyunjin being with you by your locker afterschool while he had to wait outside for you made him so uncomfortable. Was uncomfortable the right word in this situation? He thought some more and concluded the thought of Hyunjin near you at all made him exceptionally mad, not just uncomfortable, for whatever the reason may have been (though he did have a hunch as to why he was feeling this way).

You looked over at the quiet boy next to you, noticing his intense state of thought, as he harshly bit his lower lip, furrowed his eyebrows slightly and kept an adamant gaze ahead of him. The sight was quite cute actually, cute enough to make you laugh. 

"Earth to Kim Seungmin, you are wanted here immediately, please report for duty," you giggled, dramatically waving your arm in front of his face to snap him out of his daze. 

"Sorry," Seungmin suddenly looks at you, cheeks hot and hands clenched onto the straps of his backpack. 

His gaze is not like anything you'd ever seen come from him. It looks serious, yet almost sad? The way his eyes look glossed over have you wanting to kiss his cheeks and lift the corners of his mouth to reveal his signature smile, the one you love so much.

But you know better than to let your imagination get the best of you and you quickly shake your head to get rid of such thoughts about your best friend in his very presence.

"No worries, just talk to me if you need to, okay?" You reach over to comfort him, rubbing his arm softly in assurance of your words. 

Little did you know you were killing Seungmin RIP. 

You were now approaching your front porch, ready to whip out your keys and say home sweet home. Seungmin always came over for a bit after school to talk and mess around a bit before starting homework and today was no different. 

But just as you opened the door with the thought about what video game Seungmin would want to play today floating in your head, you noticed the boy had yet to move from the step of the porch. 

"Seungmin? Don't you want to come in?" You walked back over to him, choosing to stay standing on the step above him. 

"Y/n," he practically whispered. 

Suddenly, at this close proximity, you realize the tension in his face and the worry behind his eyes and the burning of his cheeks. 

You softly reach over and unclasp one of Seungmin's hands from the strap of his bag, taking his hand into your own and rubbing your thumb over his numb knuckles for comfort. 

"Are you okay Minnie? Do you need water? Are you sick?" You reach up to his forehead with your other hand to check his temperature. 

"No, I just think I need to tell you something, now." He spoke formally, no hint of his usual teasing or playfulness when it came to you. 

You could only nod at his strange current state, you were quite concerned. 

"Don't take Hyunjin's help." He stated firmly, as if reading it from a list of rules. His serious disposition did not falter one bit, as if he had given out the most simple order. 

"Is this what this is about? Min, how am I supposed to pass that dumb class. Seungmin I'm failing, like with an F, I know you don't know what that's like, but neither did I until now and I have to fix it somehow! We can't all be straight A students without even having to try!" You were practically tearing up at the intensity of which your words came out, you'd slightly lost control of your emotions in the moment, but Seungmin remained calm through the sharp words you threw, knowing you were simply frustrated with your grades and held no ill intentions with them. 

"I can help you study, I can stay with you at the library all day explaining it to you if I have to, I'll take notes on your textbook and give them to you. Why didn't you tell me you needed help sooner?" He looked at you even more intensely, if that were even possibly. Then reaching over, he held your free hand in his own free hand. 

At this point the worry in his eyes only made you want to hug him for the rest of your life, but there was so much tension surrounding the two of you right now.

"Min, you don't have to do that. If you don't want me getting help from Hyunjin, I won't. I trust you. But you don't have to waste your time being my teacher, trust me on that, you'll regret it." You attempt to laugh off your answer while swinging his hands in yours to lighten the mood, even if it's just a bit. Unfortunately, your teary eyes from your previous outburst give you away as a tear rolls down your cheek. 

Seungmin was unsure about how to go about this further. He wasn't sure how you didn't seem to get it? That he would sacrifice his sleep to help you pass a class, just so he could be the one to help you, not some Hwang Hyunjin. That he wouldn't hesitate to do anything, and he means anything, if you simply asked. That he currently had more photos of you on his camera and phone than he did selfies of himself. That he liked you for fuck's sake. How could you have not seen it in his blushy mess of a nervous state right now. Was he really that freaking deep in the friendzone? 

"I want to waste my time teaching you chemistry because I know I won't regret it. Because I'd never regret time spent with you." His words remained calm and precise, again as if he had prepared them and read them off a notecard. He looked down at his shoes, unable to confront you after the cheesy words left his mouth. 

He felt his hands begin to moisten with sweat in your grasp and tried to remove them from your hands. However he was met with your refusal, as your hands tightly gripped his own. 

"Kim Seungmin, I like you. Like really like you. Like, like-like you. And you cannot say those things to me and be protective of me and be cheesy with me and expect me not to want to just hug you and kiss you as if we weren't just best friends!" You blurted, in a sing-song whine much like your usual tone with your best friend.

You took in a very long breath of frustration and looked down as well. 

You were so caught up in thoughts of the implications of the words that had left your mouth so quickly, that you did not bother to notice how Seungmin had in fact perked up at your words and practically resembled a tomato at this point, not that you looked any less of the shade of red.

“Wait what????” Seungmin was awestruck from your outburst, was he hallucinating? This was not the time for his imagination. 

“There is no way, I’m repeating that,” you pouted.

“Not even if, I tell you I feel the same?” Seungmin smiled.

“Maybe after…” you swung your intertwined hand again.

“After ….?” he mocks

Seungmin suddenly closes the already small distance between the two of you and lands his soft lips just barely on the surface of your cheek. 

“Can you say it again now?” he teases. 

All tension dispelled, the mood is suffocating with the puppy love-struck expressions emitting from both your eyes. 

- 

“Seungmin, how can you kiss me before you even tell me you like me?” 

You’re both inside now, after your apparently long-awaited confession, Seungmin had decided a cuddle session was called for in celebration, not that you were complaining. 

“I thought it was just obvious?” Seungmin replies 

“We could have been dating for so long by now,” You both sigh to one another at the thought you’d both had looming in your heads for the past hour.

“Guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time,” Minnie nuzzles his head into your neck trying to hide from his own sly remark. 

“Can we study chem now though, I’m still failing,” You whisper into his ear, the notion of that failing grade still very much prominent in your head. 

“In a bit, do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” The arms around your waist tighter their loose grip and Seungmin pulls you even closer to him, enough to feel the warmth emitting from his chest and suddenly you thought chem could wait.

[thewritingstar]

Drawn That Way

Pairing: Blossutch

Fandom: Powerpuff Girls

I hope you all enjoy the only Halloween fic I did this year lol. I wanted to write more but I’ve been kinda of in the writing dumbs and haven’t been feeling too good about my writing. But none the less, some Blossutch

——

Halloween was a night of frights and to be going to parties with your friends dressed as any character you want, not to be sitting alone at a bar in a dress a little too tight for Blossoms comfort and two shots down her throat.

She was a fool to think that some dude from her chem class was actually going to show for the party, of course she was ditched. Blossom Utonium was known for many things, but parrying? People acted like she had never heard the word.

All she wanted was to have this night be fun and maybe wake up with a small hangover, what? She was a college student and wanted at least one “reckless” experience. Her sisters had beat her to that already and it wasn’t embarrassing that she wanted to feel that way too.

She felt a person slither into the seat next to her. Eyes already rolling as he ordered a drink and she knew he was getting ready to turn and say some horrific pick up line.

“Well if it isn’t Miss Everything Nice?”

Her head turned to see Butch smirking like the Chershire Cat as he took the drink and smacked it back.

“Butch.” She said with a small smile. She felt slightly more relaxed and was thankful someone she knew was by her. She also had no problem blasting him to the sky if he tried anything. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He shrugged. “Oh yeah know, tired of parties and thought I’d give a bar a try. This place kinda blows, barely anyone here.”

“Mmm too bad.” She didn’t mind that there wasn’t any screaming people or girls throwing up in the corner. It was better this way.

“So what are you suppose to be?” She asked with a slight laugh.

He was wearing a black vest with no shirt underneath and black pants to match...and a tail?

“Sexy play boy bunny!” He said proudly and held up his headband that had two floppy black ears. “What about you?”

“Oh.” She brushed her hands in her lap. “I’m Jessica Rabbit. Thought it was easy, yeah know, redhead and all that.” Why did she feel embarrassed all of a sudden? 

He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he looked her up and down. “You look good Pink.” He smiled and she felt slightly better. 

“Thank you.” She needed another drink, maybe. 

Butch looked around then back to her with a confused expression. “So wheres the bunny?” 

“Bunny?” She questioned. 

“Yeah. The rabbit she married.” 

“Oh. Roger rabbit. He uh...ditched, found another rabbit hole I guess. Its alright, he wasn’t that great to begin with.” She shrugged and didn’t realize he had bought her a drink. 

She glanced at it then to him and noticed that he was staring at her. “What?” She asked and started to twist a lock of hair nervously.

“Nothing. I just don’t understand how someone could ever ditch you.”

Blossom was slightly taken back by his words. “It’s happened, I’m used to it.” She answered honestly.

“Well stop getting used to it.” Butch said and grabbed her hand.

“W-what-“ She let out a gasp as she collided with his chest.

She opened her eyes and looked at him to see a bright smirk. One arm came around her waist as the other held her hand in his. Her chest was pressed against his and he swayed them to the music ignoring the other people on the dance floor.

Her own smile came forward as she relaxed and let him take the lead.

“There it is.” He winked and she blushed slightly. “I’ve always liked your smile a lot.”

“How charming.” She rolled her eyes playfully.

He spun her and brought her back. “I’m not joking Blossom.”

She blew up on her bangs. “Butch you don’t need to say things out of pity, really it fine.”

His lips twitched to a frown as he guided her through the bar and outside.

“Hey where are we-“ but she was cut off as he held her close and flew them up to the roof where they were alone. The music was still heard slightly and she could feel the vibration of the club below.

“That’s much better, hate being in cramped places. Anyways, I am not saying shit out of pity. Blossom, I’ve liked you since...fuck I don’t even know. You’re the most intelligent and beautiful girl I have ever met and it makes me mad that some nobody would ever treat you like that. I just wish you could see how incredible you are.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her wrist.

Blush dusted her cheek as she stared at him. She had received endless compliments before but never had they effected her like this. She wondered if he ever knew about her crush on him. In the battles they had as children, her eyes would always wonder over to him and she was in awe at the power he had.

They had never had the same friend group aside from their silblings and even in high school, she would see him in the hallways and wondered what it would be like to be next to him.

Boy after boy. They were all the same. She was too intimidating or the spotlight was too much for them all but Butch, he was just like her, an equal. Someone she had thought to be just a friend but she never knew how big of a crush she had on him until they got older.

She took a step forward, reaching to his belt to pull the headband out and placed it on his head. The black ears flopped forehead as he grinned and she ruffled a piece of hair falling on his face.

“There, now you’re Roger Rabbit.” She whisper and planted her red lips on his cheek. “A dark emo Roger Rabbit.”

He let out a laugh. “Seriously though, I like you a lot Bloss.”

“I like you too.”

His eyes widened slightly like a kids on Christmas. “R-really?” He asked as if he doubted her. “I don’t believe you.” He teased.

An idea popped into her head as she cupped his cheek. “Will this change your mind?”

“What-“ He was cut off with her hands pulling the collar of his vest and the pressing of her lips to his.

Butch grabbed her waist to pull her closer and tilted his head to deepen the kiss. He was not about to tell her that he had been dreaming of this moment since middle school.

She pulled away with a smile.

“I’ve been dreaming of this since middle school.” SHIT.

She giggled. “Me too. How about we get out of her and go watch a movie or something?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Or something? Miss Rabbit you are bad.” He chuckled.

Blossom giggled before striking an over the top pose, her leg peaking through the high slit in the dress. “I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way.” She winked.

———

I really felt lost with the ending but I hope everyone has a happy Halloween!!!! AND BE SAFE.

[lilibetts]

Someone within a twenty feet radius loves you!

(Part 2/3, Theme 1)

Betty was going to delete LoveAlarm from her phone.

She should have deleted LoveAlarm off her phone.

But come Wednesday afternoon, she still hasn’t, and she couldn’t have told you why. A glutton for punishment, probably.

>>No, you’re just a hopeful romantic! Veronica texts her while she’s in the library during study hall, working on an English essay.  >>The app is all about proximity. You don’t know who you simply haven’t been within twenty feet of yet. Or maybe they just haven’t downloaded the app.

Maybe so, yet Betty can’t help but feel like there is a fine line between hopeful and masochistic. She wants to text Veronica back with a passive-aggressive message about how Veronica has it easy with a bunch of pings and *at least* two people around the school who love her. But she doesn’t because that would be shitty.

The point is, LoveAlarm is still on her phone and she’s doing her best to forget all about it and her unexpectedly complicated feelings about Archie. That’s when it happens: she feels her phone buzzing across the wood table.

Frowning, she checks it, assuming it’s Veronica with more encouraging platitudes. Betty can scarcely believe what she sees, however:

1.

Someone within a twenty feet radius loves you!

The red heart on her screen is practically vibrating off the phone as she watches in shock. Her eyes dart up and around, landing on every face surrounding her. There has to be what, twelve people in the library that could be within twenty feet of her? It’s a popular location for study hall, after all. 

Someone is in love with her.

Was it Trev? Chuck? Sweet Pea? Alex C.? Tyler? Dilton? Of course it occurs to Betty that it could be a girl, but she isn’t up to date on who’s Out and who Veronica and Kevin are convinced are closeted. It definitely isn’t Ethel Muggs, who has started scowling at her every chance she gets lately.

The number on her phone goes back down to zero, so either the person turned their phone off or they just left her radius. Another frantic glance around only shows her the front doors swinging shut. Frowning, Betty realizes that Sweet Pea is no longer in the library and Trev has gotten up and walked over to a shelf in the back. Nobody seems to be doing anything with their phone.

Biting her lip, Betty considers her options, but there’s really only one solution.

                       *********************************************************

Jughead is in the Blue & Gold, fingers clacking away at the typewriter Betty had gotten him for his 16th birthday, Sweet Pea’s teasing words echoing in his ears, when said Hitchcock blonde comes bursting into the room.

“Juggie!” she exclaims a little breathlessly. She has one of those determined grins on her face that make his heart go pitter-patter. 

Thankfully, his phone is off, so it can’t tell on him.

“I need your help.” She drags another chair up to his desk and sits down primly, spine straight and ankles crossed. /If you have the time./

/Of course. What’s up?/

Betty hesitates then, biting her lip. /I downloaded LoveAlarm,/ she says finally, arms and voice tentative. /Someone pinged it in the library earlier and I want you to help me find out who./ With that, Betty slaps down a piece of paper with a list of names on it. Jughead swallows hard.

He’s not an absolute moron, he did expect this. When presented with an unknown suitor, of course Betty Cooper would immediately start to investigate. 

He could just tell her, but again, vulnerability is scary. As Tim Kreider wrote, “If you want to enjoy the rewards of being loved, you also have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.” It’s a certainty that she’ll figure it out eventually. Maybe he’s being a coward, but hey, Betty *loves* solving mysteries.  

Jughead doesn’t expect her love in return, he’s just flattered that he was the first one she thought of to help her figure out who pinged her LoveAlarm.

/Why are Sweet Pea and Trev’s names starred?/

/They left my radius around the same time my LoveAlarm went from 1 to 0./

When Jughead had decided to sneak into the library earlier and make her phone ping while he hid in the stacks behind her, he had been counting on the other students around her as cover but now, seeing that she’s zeroed in on two guys in particular has a pit opening up in his stomach.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Jones. Just tell her,” Sweet Pea had told him.

His hands feel clunky as he tries to sign. /And if it’s one of them, how would you feel?/

The question stymies Betty, who shakes her head and shrugs, gathering up her things. /I don’t know. Let’s just figure out who it is and I’ll figure out how I feel then./

“Okay,” Jughead ends up saying to her retreating back.

Thursday is simultaneously the most fun and the most torturous. In the morning, Jughead finds himself helping Betty stalk Sweet Pea down G Hallway, chatting him up to stall him near the Chem classrooms and surreptitiously waving her over once he ascertains that Sweet Pea has his phone out and turned on. 

“Hey, Sweet Pea!” 

Betty practically bounces as she comes to a stop next to him, eyes bright but biting her lip nervously. She’s balancing a 13”x9” tupperware container in her arms, and her phone is in her left hand, turned away from them so they can’t see LoveAlarm open on the screen.

Of course Jughead turned his own off as soon as he arrived at school. What do you think he is? An amateur?

“'Sup, Coop?” Sweet Pea doesn’t know a lot of sign language, but he smiles down at her easily. Jughead is overwhelmed by a sudden urge to kick him in the shin. “Are those for me?” Sweet Pea approximates sign with some basic pointing from the cupcakes in the tupperware container before pointing at himself.

“Uh…” Betty’s sneaking a glance at her phone and for a moment, Jughead is worried. “Yes, you can have one. They’re Boston Cream Pie cupcakes.” 

He groans on the inside. Those are his favorite.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Sweet Pea murmurs, grabbing one and peeling away the liner so he can take a bite.

This time, Jughead’s groan may have been audible.

Betty catches Jughead’s eye and shakes her head. Great, that’s one name scratched off their list. To Sweet Pea, she says: “I better be off, or I’ll be late. Bye, guys!” 

Jughead watches her leave, ponytail swishing from side to side. Sweet Pea watches him watch her leave for a moment before he clears his throat.

“Listen, Jones, I don’t mean to rush you and all, but...having a cute girl come up to you all smiles and offering you a cupcake—a damn delicious cupcake at that—might make a guy catch feelings. Just saying.” With that, Sweet Pea takes another bite of the cupcake, getting chocolate icing smeared all around his lips. Every chew he takes seems like a threat. A helpful threat.

“Lima Charlie,” Jughead sighs. Message received and understood. Sweet Pea’s older brother had been in the army and thus, he and Jughead had spent years using military jargon over walkie talkies as they snuck around Sunnyside. With a nod, Sweet Pea gives him an unnecessarily hard pat on the back and heads down the hallway.

When Jughead ducks into the Blue & Gold in between the next classes, he sees the tupperware container on his desk, next to his typewriter, a sticky note on top:

The rest are yours! I made your favorites, after all. -B

God I love you, Betty Cooper.

Lunchtime is nearly a disaster. Betty had roped the two of them into helping the Theater Club finish some set decoration for a production of Almost, Maine. All for nothing, because as it turns out, Trev is out for a dentist appointment. Still, Jughead manages to have fun being half-heartedly helpful while he eats his lunch—two ham sandwiches Betty brought in for him as a bribe for helping her with this—and Betty’s having a good time too, as evidenced by the fact she’s smiling so hard her eyes crinkle, and even when she tries to scrunch up her face to be mad at him eating more than painting, it just collapses into another giggling fit.

It’s when lunch is over and they’re heading up the aisle to where they’d left their things that Jughead remembers he left his phone on. Betty has hers with her, since she thought she would be testing Trevor’s phone for pings, and she’s barely five feet behind him.

Crap.

He hurries ahead and grabs it, depressing the power button. Just before the screen goes black, he could have sworn he saw his LoveAlarm app begin to open.

He doesn’t let himself think anything of it. In the rush, his thumb had probably hit the app button.

                  **************************************************************

Thursday night finds Betty pondering the mystery that still remains: the identity of the person who loves her. Sweet Pea has been eliminated from the list of possibilities, but Trev Brown remains a question mark. 

Curled up in her thick socks and comfiest sweatpants, hair wet from her shower and starting to curl, Betty stares at her laptop screen as she contemplates their next step. Her and Jughead had bonded over their mutual love of The Baxter Brothers and Tracy True books as children, and they’d conducted more than one investigation together over the years, so it’s natural that Betty had gone to him for help with this, even if it’s a little embarrassing.

But why, a niggling little voice asks at the back of her mind. Jughead’s question comes back to her: what will she do if it’s Trev? She doesn’t know. 

Trev’s...nice. He’s cute, and smart, and Betty doesn’t have the faintest idea what she’d do with the knowledge that he’s in love with her. Go on a date with him, she supposes, to at least see whether there is something there before she...breaks his heart? That’s what you do, right? You go to dinner at one of the few nicer restaurants in town or you go see a movie at the Bijou.

She doesn’t really want to think about this, Betty realizes, as her attention wanders from her Sleuthster search results to the ads along the column on the right. One ad catches her eye and she gasps, straightening in her chair and grabbing her phone. Her thumbs fly over the keys as before she hits [send].

<<Do you still have the reels for Rear Window?

>>Yes, why?

<<We should set the projector up in my basement and watch it this weekend. I’ll supply the snacks.

>>Capital idea, Betts, but how are you going to get all that junk food past the K9-level olfactory senses of Alice Cooper?

<<It just so happens that my mom and dad are going to visit Polly in Boston this weekend.

>>Cambridge. Just say Cambridge.

<<As long as we dispose of the evidence and air out the basement with some Febreeze, mom will be none the wiser. I’m sure Archie will donate his trash bin to the cause.

There’s a longer pause before Jughead replies.

>>It’s a   plan

>>Speaking of plans, what do you need me to do tomorrow re: Mission Pings?

Betty grins and taps out the basic framework of how they’re going to corner Trev before the pizza party at lunch, but Jughead will have her phone on him so he can feel for her ping, and listen for Trev’s ping. A thought occurs to her and Betty suddenly feels selfish for insisting that Jug help her.

<<I meant to ask you...have you downloaded LoveAlarm?

>>What do you think?

>>Besides, I already know what it would say.

A terrible feeling, like a vise in her chest, takes her over as she reads and re-reads those words. How can Jughead believe this? Almost immediately on the heels of that thought is the reminder that Betty herself had been despondent on Tuesday when she allowed the melodramatic thought  that ‘nobody was going to ever love her’ to take hold.

<<That’s bullshit. Any girl would be lucky to fall in love with you!

She means her words. Jughead may be antisocial, he may wear that crown beanie practically all the time, and okay, yes he can be the most extra fucking weirdo on the planet...but he’s also clever and passionate, she’s seen firsthand how caring and considerate he can be, and of course he’s objectively attractive. 

Betty stares at the window that faces the Andrews’ home, with the roller shades that are always pulled down lately, and pictures Jughead’s face in her mind, how he’s a bit on the pretty side, especially with that mouth. She thinks about how jealous she’s been of that wild head of dark hair in the past, when she’s seen him with the hat off, and how over the past year he’s shot up another inch or two and seems to have filled out, especially in the arms—

>>From your thumbs to God’s ears, Betts. Night, I’ve gotta be up bright and early to help you catch the worm.

She lets out a huff of laughter and rolls her eyes even though she knows he can’t see her.

<<Night, Juggie.

[wonjaekook]

Blank Keys

A/N: I started this one right after I finished the last one and worked on it in a couple of large chunks and a few small ones… and it still took forever. This really did not go where I initially expected it to, but I guess these tropes never do ^^

21 Tropes: 6. Bad Boy AU + ivory w/Hendery

Description: A chance encounter with the school “bad boy” sends your life spiraling in a new direction.

Word Count: 7.9k

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: swearing

School sucks. Life sucks. Music sucks. But, here you are, walking to the music rooms once again so you can practice and hate it for the ninth time this month. It’s not that you hate music itself - you love music. You’ve loved music for as long as you can remember, it’s your minor for God’s sake, but, right now, you can’t stand to write a single note.

Your steps slow as you hear the sound of someone playing piano drift towards you from down the hall. It’s… it’s kind of bad. Not the worst, but it’s certainly no masterful playing. But, the passion that the person beats on the keys with makes it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. The more you hear it, the more your fingertips itch and the more you feel like your voice is being constricted in your throat. Hurriedly, you sit down outside the door of the practice room where the music is coming from, you dig around in your backpack until you find your music notebook, and you begin to write. Quietly, so the person playing in the room doesn’t hear you and stop, you hum to yourself, seeing music come to life in the air around you. As the person’s piece comes to a halt, your own hand begins to slow, finally stopping. 

Every feeling you’ve ever been able to put into words and every feeling you haven’t been able to put into words sits on the paper in front of you and you find yourself really smiling at your work for the first time in a long while. Putting away your notebook, you get up, intending to just glance into the room as you pass by as to not reveal that you were weirdly listening to them play, but the person who sits at the piano bench shocks you. There, starting a new song, a more familiar tune, is Wong Kunhang or, as most people know him, Hendery. Hendery, who is always causing trouble in class when he isn’t skipping it, Hendery who brings the beer to parties, Hendery who’s always getting into some sort of trouble, just inspired you to write a new song when you’d been in a dry spell for more than a month. You’re so shocked that you find yourself pushing open the door, approaching him on the bench.

“So, the school bad boy plays piano?” The sound of your voice over his shoulder has his fingers skittering to a halt on the ivory and black keys. The noise that results from the incident is a mix of the crashing of several notes that certainly do not belong together and his incoherent stuttering at being caught.

“I-I-!”

You don’t know where your boldness comes from - you would usually be terrified of him - but you plop down next to him on the bench. “Where did you even learn how to play piano?”

“Kun-ge is really good at it…” He refuses to meet your eyes, cheeks flushed and gaze glued to the piano.

“You’re friends with Kun? Qian Kun? Straight-A, Honor-Roll, Mister Perfect Qian Kun?”

“Family friends…” He mumbles before he looks over to glare at you. “What are you even doing here?”

“I have a music minor,” you say, eyeing the keys of the piano, “I was never good at piano though.”

“Well, get out of here, good girl. I’m busy.” He turns back to the piano, trying to play off his embarrassment at having been caught.

“I’m not a good girl!”

“Compared to me, you are.” He turns his nose at you, a completely strange action on him. You break the serious air by laughing at him and he’s taken aback. “What are you-”

“Okay, Mr. Bad Boy, play me something.”

“Why should I play anything for you?” His face is entirely unamused and you smile brightly at him.

“Play something for me and I won’t tell anyone that you sneak in here to play piano.”

“You think people would believe that shit?” He glares at you.

“Well, with this handy little tool,” you muse, pulling out your phone and waving it around, “I could make anyone believe anything.”

His glare sharpens further before he sighs and visibly deflates. “Fine.” He sets his fingers down on the keys before starting the beginning of a very, very familiar piece.

“Hey,” you say, realizing what he’s doing, “are you just playing Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star?”

He finishes abruptly. “Yeah, and you got your song. Now, leave me alone.”

“No,” you whine, bumping his shoulder with your own, “I want you to play me a real song.”

He puts a hand to his heart, pretending to be offended. “Are you calling the work of our great lord Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart ‘not a real song?’ How could you?”

“Come on,” you insist, “play me something longer.”

While most of him resists your desires, a part of him wants to make you happy. He had never played for anyone but Kun, not even his parents. It’s kind of nice to have a willing audience for once. Silently, he places his fingers back on the keys and begins to play.

As he plays, you watch him and you listen. After he gave you your inspiration back, you desperately want to keep feeling it again - ‘it’ being whatever it was that he made you feel with that first song you heard. You quickly realize that he’s playing Clair De Lune, slowly and a little clumsily, but better than however he had been playing before. You’re disappointed to find that you don’t feel quite the same spark, but his playing is enjoyable nonetheless. Your eyes rake over his features. He’s concentrating hard - you can tell that from his expression - and you notice for the first time that his face is surprisingly well-structured and handsome. He’s not what you would expect out of a bad boy, that’s for sure. You had never seen him up close before, only from a distance in class or on campus as he was messing around with his band of trouble-making friends. When he finishes playing, it almost feels as if no time at all had passed. You blink and feel as though you have to say something. “That was… good.”

He snorts. “You don’t have to lie to me, you know. I’m not a master pianist and I don’t plan to be. I just do it to relieve stress.”

You smile. “That in itself is enough to be good.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’m heading out, Y/N. I got stuff to do.”

You nod along, watching as he gets up and shoulders his bag. “Thanks for playing for me.” He gives you a look, his eyebrow raised, and shrugs.

“It’s whatever.”

It takes you a moment to process what he had said before. “Wait, how do you know my name?”

He opens the door. “Freshmen year Chem class.” The door clicks shut behind him.

That class had almost a hundred people in it. You’d only known him because he had become infamous even by that point, but he remembered your name in a crowd of quiet faces that never made any trouble. You smile, looking down at the piano. Wong Kunhang remembered your name.

You find it a lot easier to write and sing again after that. When you return at the same time, a few days later, to practice and test out some of your new songs, you’re not as surprised as you should be to see him there again. As you open the door, he also seems unsurprised to see you. At least, he’s not nearly as startled when you walk in this time.

“Should I be expecting you from now on?” He says, taking his hands off of the keys. You glance at the unlabeled sheet music in front of him.

“What are you practicing?”

He shrugs and reaches forward, flipping the page to Moonlight Sonata. “Not much.”

“Can I listen?” You ask, proceeding to sit yourself down on the end of the piano bench anyways. He sighs and puts his fingers back on the keys.

“I guess I can’t stop you.”

That time, and every time after, you join him and, to your surprise, he becomes more and more receptive to you as an audience member. The way his fingers move across the piano remind you that he’s a person, not just some trouble-maker, not just the bad boy. You also realize that you may have misjudged him. He’s no idiot - not even close. In conversation between his playing, you find out that his final grade in the chemistry class you two had together was actually higher than yours had been. There’s something deeper to crack about him, but you just can’t place it. At least, not yet. What is it about him, what had he done that time to make you feel the way you did that makes him so special?

You think that you’re making progress with figuring him out. Then, you’re walking with your friend Mark on campus one day when you see him with his group, consisting most prominently of some guys you know as Ten, Lucas, and Yangyang. If the same thing had happened last semester, you would have put your head down and walked past as to not draw attention from him, but, now, you look at him head-on. He meets you with a look that lacks the usual calm and hesitant friendliness that you see in it. Mark nudges you, trying to get you to stop staring. “Don’t draw attention!” He whisper-yells to you.

“What?” You break eye contact with Hendery to look at your friend. “I’m not doing anything.”

“They’ll start shit with anyone, so just keep walking and-” You look away from Mark again to turn back at him.

“See something you like?” You hear him say, meeting you with a smirk. You frown at his tone. He would usually never talk to you like that.

“Not particularly,” you say, trying to see if he’ll play along with you like he usually does when he’s in the practice room with you.

“Is there a problem, then?” Hendery raises an eyebrow, keeping the same confrontational tone, and your heart sinks. So, that’s how it’s going to be.

“Yeah, there’s a bunch of idiots being loud and annoying in the middle of campus.”

You regret saying it almost immediately. Mark groans quietly next to you.

“Huh, shy puppy finally has something to say, does she? Don’t think I’ve ever seen you open your mouth before.” Hendery lies through his teeth and he does it easily, dismissing every single thing you’ve said to each other over the last few weeks.

You roll your eyes. “Maybe next time you’ll open your ears and listen.”

The boys around Hendery snicker and you can tell you’re gaining the attention of some of the other students wandering around campus. Mark grabs at your arm, trying to get you moving. “Y/N, let’s just go.” You start to let him move you, but Ten speaks up this time.

“Hey, you think you can start shit and just-”

Hendery stops him, lowering his voice, but you can still hear it. “I’ll deal with her later.”

“Oh my god, you’re dead. You’re so dead.” You let Mark tug you along, absentmindedly hearing him ramble and lecture you as you continue on to the music rooms. You can practically feel Hendery’s eyes on you until you leave his field of vision. In the practice room, you try to do some homework while Mark plays guitar, but your mind keeps wandering back to Hendery. Even with his personality swap, you can’t make yourself hate him. You’re more confused than anything. You’ve never felt so conflicted before, not even after you found him playing piano for the first time. Why is he a completely different person when you’re alone?

Mark eventually leaves, heading to meet someone else for a group project, and you find that your thoughts are even louder when you’re alone and without the relaxing strumming of your friend playing guitar. You shove your chair away from the side table that you had been working at and make your way to the piano. With a huff, you sit down in front of it, realizing that the instrument itself now just reminds you of Hendery. Opening the lid, you set your fingers down.

You had only ever played piano for a class in your first semester of college. You had been atrocious - you had basically only passed with a decent grade because your teacher saw how hard you were trying. With your vocal focus, you always found it more natural to find notes within yourself, unlike piano, where you have to know where notes are and make sure you press down on the right keys. You think that, maybe, this time, you’ll be able to sound at least semi-okay. You try your hand at playing Hot Cross Buns, surprised that you remember the notes. Trying something a little harder, you go for Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star and you hit a wrong note not even two measures in. On that first night, when you had demanded Hendery play a song for you, you hate to admit it, but his rendition of the classic was miles beyond yours. Without realizing, you begin to hum along, using your voice to find the notes on the keys. With many wrong presses and lots of backtracking, you finally play the whole song and you sit back, pleased with yourself.

From behind you, someone starts clapping and you whip around to see Hendery himself. You sigh and shake your head. You hadn’t noticed when he had entered. “Why are you here?” You ask. “This isn’t your normal day.”

“I said I would deal with you later. It’s not like you’re that hard to find,” he says, walking over to the bench and standing next to you. “That was pretty bad.”

“You play it, then,” you say, some of your previous irritation leaking into your voice, but you shift over to make room for him anyways. He sits down next to you, sets his fingers on the keys, and begins to play. The song sounds similar to yours at first, in the same key, with the same notes, but, then, it takes a turn. It changes into a different song, but it’s still Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, and you find yourself entranced, watching him play. In those moments, you forget the separate person he had become earlier and just pay attention to the music flowing in the room. Before you know it, the song is back to what the original is and he’s done, looking at you expectantly.

“Have you ever tried writing? I think you’d be good at it.” It’s the first thing you can think to say. You don’t know if he had actually written the strange rendition that you had just heard, but he certainly played it like he owns it.

“No.” As expected, he refuses immediately.

“Well, just consider it! You’ve done it before. I’ve heard you. Plus, you owe me for today.”

“When the hell did you hear me play something original? And, no, I don’t, you’re the one who started shit.” You can tell from the slight red making its way onto his face that you’re right, what you had heard that day was something he made himself.

“Says you, the King of Starting Shit. But, that first day, I came over here because I heard you playing.” His brows furrow at the comment, so you continue. “It was really nice, by the way.”

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know it didn’t sound good.”

“But, it did!” He gives you a look, so you insist further. “It really did.”

He scans your face, looking for a sign that you’re lying to him somehow, and sighs when he finds none. You really had thought it was good. The technique hadn’t been exactly right, but whatever he made up that day had brought your inspiration back so, to you, it was the most precious piece you’d heard in a long time. Finally, he speaks again, his voice quiet. “I’ll give it a try if you show me how.”

You brighten up instantly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he says, “and if you sing for me.”

“Wait, that’s not part of the-”

“I heard you singing when you were playing earlier, so I assume that’s what your focus is for your minor. Tell me I’m wrong.” Just like how you could tell from his embarrassment earlier that you were right, he can tell from you silence and bashfulness that he’s right. It surprises you that he would ask you to sing - that might be the closest to a compliment that you’ll get from him.

“Fine,” you say bitterly, “but only because you owe me.”

He stands up suddenly, surprisingly you. “Are you free right now?”

“Yeah, I guess, I only really have homework to do, so-”

“Come with me.” You’re more than surprised at his invitation, but you get up and grab your stuff, following him nonetheless. He leads you out of the room, out of the building, off campus, and he keeps walking. It’s getting dark outside now, but he keeps going, glancing back every so often and keeping idle conversation, like he’s making sure that you’re still following him. Finally, he stops, opening the door to a restaurant that you had never been to before. It’s pretty dimly lit and there are one or two customers inside.

“Where are we?” You whisper, not wanting to disturb the air.

“The owners are family friends,” he says, walking towards the back. He calls out something in Cantonese and an older lady pops her out from behind the curtain separating the kitchen and the dining area. When she sees him, she smiles, displaying the laugh lines around her mouth, and greets him. Her eyes shift over to you quickly after and you hurriedly bow to her, trying to be respectful. She seems surprised, saying something to him in Cantonese. He shakes his head, laughing slightly, and says something else to her that you don’t understand. Nodding, she looks back at you and smiles again.

“Hello,” she says in slightly accented Korean, “I’m Mrs. Chan. It’s nice to see Kunhang-ah bring a friend by. If you need anything, I’ll be back here.”

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Y/N. Thank you for having me.” You bow to her again and she smiles once more before disappearing back into what you assume is the kitchen. You look to Hendery, smirking at him. “Kunhang-ah?”

He flushes ever so slightly. “You know Hendery isn’t my real name. And the ‘ah’ is just a Canto thing.” He turns back towards the main restaurant. “Come on.”

You follow him and see, nestled in a small, hidden corner of the restaurant, is a piano. It’s old and painted a chipping yellow, but seems to be in relatively good shape otherwise. The bench is small, but he sits down, leaving just enough room for you to squeeze next to him. “I used to come here all the time as a kid,” he says, running his fingers lightly over the worn-down keys. “While the adults talked, I would just sit here and mess around. It sounded awful, but it was fun. Kun heard me one day and offered to teach me.” He takes his hand away and gestures towards the keys. Tentatively, like you’re afraid to disturb some of his childhood memories, you lift your hand and press down on what you hope is a C. The sound is deep and resonant, the timbre speaking of old wood and comfort. You can’t help but think that you’re sharing a part of Hendery right now, but the part of him that’s more like Kunhang and less like the guy you had a back-and-forth with on campus today.

“It sounds beautiful,” you say quietly, slowly taking your hand back. You can feel him staring at you, but when you look back, he’s looking at the piano again. You feel like you can barely breathe. Suddenly, you hear a call of his name from Mrs. Chan and you both turn to look. She emerges from around the corner and smiles after seeing the two of you at the bench together. She has a plate in her hands with what you recognize as egg tarts.

“These are for you two. No charge, of course.” Instinctually, you bow again and thank her, accepting one of the tarts. Hendery takes one as well, thanking her in Cantonese. With one last smile, she disappears again.

“This smells really good,” you say, observing the treat in your hand.

“She makes them herself. They’re her specialty. Before I started messing around on the piano, the only reason I didn’t throw a fit coming here was for these.” The smile he has on his face as he looks at his is sweet and innocent, almost enough to rival the egg tart you’re holding. The desserts in both of your hands disappear pretty quickly and you find yourself smiling widely after you finish it. It’s not very often that you get real Chinese cuisine.

“I’ll have to thank her again before we leave. That was delicious.” Somewhere at the back of your mind, you recognize that this is the first time that you had eaten with Hendery, but you don’t let the implications sink in too much. The two of you brush the crumbs off of your hands and look at the piano again. “When you write something, do you know where to start?” He shakes his head, so you continue. “Think of something important to you. A memory, a feeling, anything. Something that’s strong enough that you’re inspired by it.” You watch as he thinks, his eyebrows scrunching.

“I… think I know something.” You’ve never heard him so timid.

“Okay,” you say, watching his expression shift again, “I guess for an instrumentalist, you’ll choose a key. And, then, you just kind of… go.”

“You just go?” He says, quirking an eyebrow at you. “I thought you were supposed to be helping me.”

“Music is supposed to come from here,” you say, poking at his chest, right above where his heart should be. “So, just play from there. Take that emotion or memory or whatever and turn it into music.”

When he had previously started to lift his hands to the keys, he stops, setting them down. “Sing for me first.” “What? Here?” Though you’re normally not that shy about your singing and the restaurant is practically empty, you can’t help but be hesitant. He nods, no duh, and waits for you. You sigh, trying to think of something that you know and that he might enjoy. You might as well go basic - You Are My Sunshine. Slowly, the words and notes begin to flow from your lips, filling this corner of the restaurant. He watches you, as you have figured out that he does a lot, and, when the song is over, he turns back to the piano. Without saying anything, he begins to play.

That night, in that dim restaurant in the corner that hardly anybody sees, he plays a new song for you. You sit next to him, your side pressed to his, and you listen. There is no blank space between you anymore, but all you want is to move closer so that you could somehow hear and feel his song even better. You can almost feel his heartbeat in the song and, as he plays, yours begins to sync with it. When his fingers finally stop moving, he doesn’t look at you. His face is warm in a way he hadn’t really felt before and, though he spends so much time just staring at you these days, he feels like he’ll change everything if he looks at you. When he finally looks over, you’re already gazing at him. Without thinking, but having put too much thought into it for so long, he leans down and presses his lips to yours.

His lips are warm with the feelings he had just shared with you and sweet with the egg tart that he had eaten so many times before. This time, somehow, it tasted even sweeter than usual, and now he thinks he knows why.

The two of you leave quietly, thanking Mrs. Chan again. She simply observes the glow that the two you have about yourselves and smiles when she sees you tug on his hand as you’re walking out.

As you walk, you don’t say much, just hold his hand in yours. As the pair of you get closer to campus, he speaks softly, not wanting to disturb the air between you. “Do you want to come back to my apartment with me?” You’re about to accept - though you’re not really talking right now, you don’t quite want to leave him just yet - but then you think of the implications and flush. He sees your reaction and his eyes widen. “No, no, no, not like that!” He pauses and then smirks, squeezing your hand. “Unless you want to.”

With your free hand, you jokingly hit him and he laughs, showing you a full-toothed smile. You can’t help but smile back. “I’ll come, but just so I can do some work.”

“Mhm,” he hums and you smack him lightly again. “Work. That’s what you want.”

With a bit more playful bickering, you walk with him to his apartment, finding that he lives on the second floor of a building right next to campus. As you kick off your shoes, you note that his apartment is surprisingly clean. Peering farther in, you see two closed doors in the hallway. “Do you have a roommate?”

“Yeah, it’s Ten.” Instantly, unpleasant memories of your experience with Ten from earlier come to mind and you grimace, which Hendery notices. “He isn’t here right now, but he’s not that bad. He’s actually pretty smart, he can just be kind of a dick sometimes.”

“Sometimes? All I’ve seen from him is dick dehavior.”

He just shrugs and walks to his room with you following him and, when you get there, you set down your stuff and begin to pull out your work, setting up shop at his desk at his prompting. You don’t know what time it is when you drift off and you only half wake up when you feel him pick you up and move you to his bed. You fall back asleep, nestled in his blankets and pillows. You wake up again, seeing dim lamplight through your eyelids, and open your eyes, turning to see the clock on his nightstand read 4:32 a.m. Next, you look for him, confused, and spot him hunched over his desk, a textbook in front of him, where you were sure you had fallen asleep earlier.

“Hendery?” You say, causing him to turn his head in surprise. “Why are you awake? It’s so late.”

“I can never sleep this early,” he replies, giving you a soft smile. “Go back to sleep, I’ll wake you up in time for class.”

“I have a 9 a.m.,” you say, suddenly realizing where you are and what’s happening. “I’m terrible, I’m taking up your bed.”

You start to get up, but he stops you, putting a hand on the edge of the bed. “It’s fine. I’ll sleep later. I told you I can never sleep this early.”

“It’s not early,” you say, pushing a hand through your hair, “Do you have a test tomorrow or something?”

He shakes his head, glancing back at the textbook. “I just can’t sleep most nights. When I can’t sleep, I just study.”

Your eyes widen as you make the connection. “That’s why you got a better score in chemistry than me…”

He smiles bitterly. “Yup. Now, go back to sleep.”

“I’ll only sleep if you come sleep with me.” You’re too tired to care about the implications of what you just said, instead making grabby-hands at him.

Frowning at you, he shakes his head. “I really-”

“I’m staying awake, then.” You pout at him and he sighs, giving in and shutting his textbook. The lamplight gets flicked off and he slips under the covers, facing towards you. He can’t see the smile on your face in the dark, but he’s sure it’s there. Carefully, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest.

“Is this okay?” You hum in response and, before you know it, you’re asleep in his arms. He sleeps more soundly that night that he had in a long time.

The next evening, you find yourself in that same practice room, listening to him play again. This time, it’s a piece you’ve heard before but can’t quite name - you’ve never been very well-versed in classical piano pieces, but you can at least recognize the melody. Suddenly, he stops playing and looks at you. You think that his gaze has been softer recently and you think you like it. You hold that eye contact with him as he speaks.

“I’ve been thinking about it and… why did you even come in here that day? Why did you want me to play for you so bad?” His voice is expectant, as if he had been trying to find answers about you just like you had been trying to find answers about him. After everything that happened last night, you figure that it’s time to come clean.

You swallow your feelings, your pride, your everything. “I heard you playing and I just…” You trail off. “I can’t really describe how I felt. You just played beautifully.” To try to explain what made you follow the music you heard, you dig around in your backpack, pulling out a notebook. The cover is beaten up, worn down from many years of usage, with only a few blank pages left towards the end of the notebook. You run a hand over the cover. You don’t know why you trust him so much already, but you suppose that hearing him play just now makes you feel as if he had opened his heart to you as well, in a way. You hand him the notebook. He takes it with gentle hands, his gaze not leaving your face. “This is my music notebook. Every song I’ve ever worked on is in here. For a while, it was hard to make anything. Anything at all. But, when you played that day, it made me feel like writing again. I…” You pause, feeling the confession scratch at your throat and turn your face pink with embarrassment. A moment before, he had opened your notebook, flipping through some of the pages, but he stops and looks back up at you when you stop talking. “...I actually sat outside the door and wrote something for a little while I listened to you play.”

His eyes are wide and curious, another look you don’t really see on him that often, as you talk. “What did you write?”

“It’s… it’s in there somewhere.” You know by heart where that song is, but you don’t want to admit that to him just yet. He gave you your inspiration back, whether he did it on purpose or not, and that means everything to you - how could you not remember where that song is? “Anyway, yesterday you played like you did that day again.”

He nods slowly, his dark hair swaying above his handsome face. “I think I get it.” You think he really means it and you can’t help but smile. “You love music, right?” He asks, keeping his gaze on you as he hands your notebook back to you.

“More than anything.” From somewhere deep down, he feels a flutter of emotion at your genuine, heartwarming smile.

“Why are you just a music minor, then? Why not make it your major?” He almost falters as he sees the look on your face fade into something more mournful, something much sadder. You clutch your notebook to your chest.

“My parents would never let me. I have to do chemistry. I don’t hate it, but… it’s not something I can see myself doing for the rest of my life.” A few weeks ago, you never would have guessed that you’d be confessing your deepest sadness and insecurity to Hendery Wong of all people, but here you are. Your voice lowers as you whisper your previously unspoken thoughts. “I don’t think I’ll be happy doing it.”

“Just quit.” He suggests it so quickly, so easily that you don’t know how to comprehend what he said or how to respond to him.

“Quit? It’s not that easy,” you scoff at him.

“Do what you want with your life. Stop all of that following your parents’ wishes and just quit. Major in music.” You stare at him, dumbfounded.

“I- I can’t-”

“Can’t you?” He says, raising an eyebrow at you. “Who’s paying your tuition?”

“I’m on scholarship, but-”

“Who’s paying your living expenses?” “I mean, I have a job over breaks and I make some side money here when I can…”

“So, just switch majors. Quit doing the thing you hate and living only to satisfy your parents. Live for yourself for once.” Your eyes are wide and you can’t help but continue to stare at him, your mouth agape. Could you really…?

“I… I don’t know if I could have a career in music…” You trail off, stumbling for all of the excuses you gave yourself over the past few years.

He rolls his eyes dramatically. “You know you can find something in the field. Just do your research. You’re smart and hardworking. You can find something.”

For the third time in the short while you’ve known him, he’s opening your eyes. Your heart lifts from where it had been weighed down in your chest for so long and you suddenly feel like soaring. You’d looked into more doable careers in music in the past and you’d found so many opportunities, but you had crossed them off in your head because of everything your parents burned into your head. You throw yourself against him, hugging him tightly. All of your emotions well up at once again and you feel like crying. “Thank you,” you say to him, “thank you.”

He hugs you back and doesn’t say much else.

Y/N: are you home?

Hendery: ya, why?

Y/N: look outside!!

A couple evenings later, you find yourself craving his company outside of your time in the practice rooms, but it’s late enough that you know he’ll probably be home. So, your feet take you outside of his apartment building. For the sake of ease and the little risk that comes with it, you peek up at his window - he’s only on the second floor after all. His shadow soon appears in the window, the light blinding you to his actual appearance because of the darkness outside. He opens the window and peers down at you. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” you announce before studying the side of his building. There are quite a few uneven bricks and pipes, so if you just…

He watches as you climb up to his second floor apartment, sticking out a hand to grab yours when you get close enough and smirking as he pulls you the rest of the way in. “If I’m the bad boy, why are you the one climbing in my window at night?”

“Honestly, it was kind of fun,” you say, jokingly dusting your clothes off. “You should try it some- mm.”

He interrupts you by planting a kiss on your lips, to your pleasant surprise. When he pulls away, he seems proud of the blush that you can feel spreading across your face. “The front door would be much easier.”

“I guess…” You respond, still flustered. You’ll really have to get used to that. You also don’t want to tell him that you were avoiding Ten, as his roommate doesn’t know anything about your relationship with Hendery yet and you don’t have the greatest impression of the guy. Shaking your head to clear your inhibitions, you smile at him as he closes the window again. “Anyways, I have good news!” At his hum, affirming that he’s listening to you, you continue. “I talked to my advisor today and she said I’m good to change majors! I just have to wait until next semester for my major-related classes start up. I’ll probably still graduate on time, too, given the way things are going.”

“I’m happy for you, babe.” He brushes your hair back and kisses your forehead, making warmth bubble up in your chest. His arms wrap around you in a hug a moment later.

“Thank you again,” you mumble against his chest as he hugs you, “I really owe you everything.”

“Nah,” he says, “I’m just doing what a good boyfriend would do.”

“Boyfriend?” You say, pulling back ever so slightly to look at him. The two of you hadn’t put your relationship into terms like that yet, so the word surprises you before the feeling of excited butterflies swarms in your chest again.

“You don’t like it?” He says, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“I like it a lot, actually. My boyfriend, Hendery Wong, the bad boy.” The somewhat squeaky laugh he lets out is cute, so different from the persona you had associated him with for so long.

As usual, you find yourself lounging around his room, idly studying and doing the homework that you brought with you. It’s almost midnight when you hear a door slam nearby. There’s a brief pause and some shuffling noises before Hendery’s door flies open, revealing Ten. Hendery rolls his eyes. “Dude, what did I tell you about just coming in here when the door is closed? I could be doing stuff you don’t want to see.”

“Yeah, whatever. I needed to tell you-” He stops suddenly as he sees you sitting in the middle of the room with a textbook in front of you. “What is the puppy doing here?”

“Puppy?” You fire back. “Is that really the nickname you’re giving me?”

“We’re in a class together,” Hendery says, ignoring you and lying as easily as if he was just breathing. “We have a project to work on.”

“Uh-huh. No open space in the library?” Ten questions, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning on the doorframe.

“There’s a huge gen chem test tomorrow,” he says, “all the freshmen are in there. It was easier to just come here.” It’s not a lie - you know from your younger friends that he’s telling the truth, but his refusal to admit that there’s something more between the two of you makes you knit your brows together in displeasure.

“Whatever. I’ll tell you what happened with the boys later.” Ten eyes you once more before turning around, closing the door as he leaves. You nearly laugh out loud. At least he’s polite in that respect.

“We’re just classmates, huh?” You say, turning to the boy who had just proclaimed himself your boyfriend not two hours earlier. You get up from the floor, packing away your things. “I’m heading home.”

“You won’t stay the night?” He says, sitting up straighter.

“It’s getting kinda late for your ‘classmate’ to be here.” He watches helplessly as you finish gathering your things and step towards his bedroom door.

“No window this time?” He jokes, trying to lift your spirits back up.

“Like you said, the front door is much easier. Goodnight, Kunhang.” The coldness with which you say it keeps him frozen in place as you let yourself out. Neither of you sleep particularly well that night.

A few days later, as an apology, he plays a new song for you. When you listen to him, the feeling that his compositions bring you comes back like it always does, but it feels heavier, more melancholy this time. Half of your heart wants to forgive him and half of it wants to never speak to him again. You suppose the split is partially your fault - you shouldn’t have thought a relationship with Hendery, the self-proclaimed bad boy of the school, would be normal in any way. But, now that it has progressed this far, you just want it to work out. You like the honest side he shows you a lot more than you ever liked his troublemaking side. You wish he would just be more honest with everyone else, too.

As he plays, you find yourself moving closer until your head rests against his shoulder. Slowly, his song turns into something softer and sadder, his fingers dancing across the ivory and black keys more slowly. “What song is that?” You ask.

“Dunno.” He shrugs, stopping a few notes later. It seems unfinished somehow. He just stares down at the keys for a long moment. Finally, he takes a deep breath. “Listen… I’m sorry.”

“I want to say it’s okay, but it’s not.” Your response makes him frown more deeply, which makes you frown, too. You reach out, cupping his face in your hands so that he looks you in the eye and stops avoiding your gaze. His eyes, you notice, have a lot of warmth and emotion when he lets himself show it. “Kunhang. I like you. I really, really like you. But, if you want us to be together, you can’t keep treating me like this, like I’m your girlfriend here and you don’t know me at all when your friends are around. Listen.” You drop your hands from his face and place them on the piano. You pray that the chord you’re about to play is right and press down. Pleasant notes resonate through the room, into your bones, intertwining with your heartbeat as you sing. “I want to tell the whole world how I feel. I wish I could sing a song that shows them everything I see in you.” Your voice falls into a low, sad tone and the notes of your song turn into spoken resignation. “But, right now, you won’t let me.”

The silence between you is something that you know will make or break your relationship. You want him to choose you, to choose the good thing that you’ve found together, but, for a moment, you’re afraid he won’t. Then, he meets your eyes and smiles.

“Let’s show them, then.”

You peak out from behind the curtains of the stage. You can see some of your friends, including Mark, sitting in the audience. The house doors shut and you sigh, but a moment later, the doors open again, much to the annoyance of the ushers who had just closed them, and in walk Hendery, Ten, Lucas, and Yangyang. After seeing them, you duck backstage again and wait. Not too long into the start of the recital, Hendery joins you, wearing a slightly different outfit than he had walked in wearing. It’s his usual black, but slightly more formal and matching your own outfit well. A small feeling of pride wells up in your chest at the sight, pushing back the nerves that had begun to rise.

“Couple outfit,” you simply say. He rolls his eyes, but you can see the hint of a smile on his face. You know your performance is coming up soon, so you take his hands in yours. “Are you ready?”

“I should be asking you that,” he says, eyeing you, “you look like you’re about to run away any second.”

“I do not!” You whisper-yell back. “I’m-”

“You guys are up next,” a crew member interrupts, “two minutes.”

You thank her and turn back to your boyfriend. The air becomes more somber between the two of you. “Thank you,” you say, “for doing this with me.”

“Thanks for not giving up on me,” he responds. He leans down, about to plant a quick kiss on your lips, but the light on stage goes out and the crew member from before ushers the two of you forward and on stage. You don’t really hear as the emcees introduce you, but you can imagine the looks on Mark, Ten, Lucas, and Yangyang’s faces as your name and Hendery’s name are announced together.

When the light comes on, the only thing you can see is him sitting on the bench with the piano in front of him. You look at each other one more time before he looks away, taking a breath before he begins to play. The notes from the piano hold the beat in them and, when it’s your turn, you raise your microphone and start to sing along.

“As sweet as honey

Your smile is as sweet as honey…”

As you sing, you forget about all of the eyes on you, all of your friends and his friends watching the two of you in shock. You’re singing to him, so you think only of him. You know this is his first time in front of an audience like this, but he looks entirely at peace, the stage lights illuminating his features well and making him look even more handsome than usual. Then again, maybe it’s not the lights. Maybe the way your heart is soaring is changing the way that you see him yet again. A bright, warm smile makes its way onto your face as you sing. Before you can fully comprehend the situation, the song is ending and you’re singing your final lines.

“Your smile is so familiar to me

But I still can’t remember where

Ah… in my dreams.”

You lower the microphone from its position by your lips, finally looking out into the ground. Everyone’s eyes are round and wide as Hendery plays the last measures of the song. The last note seems to reverberate throughout the theater. As if they were waiting for that note to finally fade away, it takes a moment before the audience bursts into applause. While you stare out at them, microphone still clasped in your hand, Hendery gets up, moving to stand by your side. He takes your free hand, bringing you back to the real world, and leads you in a bow. A smile blossoms on your face again after you rise from your bow and you turn to him, prepared to smile at him, but, to your immense surprise, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you, full and fast in front of everyone. At the back of your mind, you register that people are cheering and gasping and giving you all sorts of reactions, but you just enjoy the feeling of his lips on yours.

After the show, you vaguely recall Mark coming up to you, completely in shock but congratulating you nonetheless, and Ten threatening you, saying, “you’d better not take him completely away from us,” but you can tell from the half-smile on his face that he’s fine with whatever is happening as long as he can see the glow of happiness in Hendery’s face. You suppose that Ten isn’t too bad of a guy.

Ten leaves and you turn to your, now proudly public, boyfriend. “Not so scary, right?” “I guess not.”

One by one, you find that the last blank pages of your notebook are being filled and, as he takes your hand, the very different spaces between the two of you close until all that’s left is the music that you made together.

[jimlingss]

even if bts fanfics arent gonna be a thing next year, i’d still read what you write kina love 🥺 - chanting anon

:’] thank you.

Anonymous said:hey, don't be too pressured when writing! as long as you feel comfortable doing what you love then that is the death that i will embrace wholeheartedly. as my professor says "speak/write to express and not to impress" which i think says a whole lot of stuff for you and all the writers out there. sure, your hearts crave the criticism and opinions you get from others, but i hope that it's not a major factor in the pressure you feel when writing. [1/??]

either way, we will appreciate and love what you write because honestly, it's one of the cool things about mondays and fridays. we will always look forward to what you write, and as long as you enjoy what you do, i don't think there's a need to feel pressure. because what you do is for yourself and we, the readers, are only a part of it. but you are the whole of what you write. [2/??]

then again, this is an opinion from a reader. you still do you and you are still you. but hey, a boost wouldn't be to bad now is it? just keep doing what you love, kina. we are all here to support you. if what you write isn't fully satisfactory on your part, don't be embarrassed about it. at least you know you made someone's day, and that you inspired them. [3/??]

have a nice day and when the time comes where you stop writing for tumblr (which we hope not, but the choice is always yours hahaha), just remember that some of us here are still present to support you!!! we all are excited for your slice of life and all your wips tbvh. (please tell the grim reaper on your shoulders to go away!) sending love 💕💕💕 - anon h.a.n.d. [4/?4?]

asdfghjkl you sent such a nice message, thanks dude. don’t worry though, I’m not really pressured by anyone other than myself and that kind of pressure is more so expectations for myself - I want the best for me. Other people’s opinions I could care less about frankly lol. I really do enjoy what I do, so don’t you worry. Thanks for this :’) super sweet stuff.

Anonymous said: uh,mby one day ill have enough courage to send u an actual msg&not an ask cuz i tend to rant&its hard to fit evrth in 500 symbols,,(; ;) oh,i see. usually i have exams in june, so i wasnt sure whether u r done w/yours or not but its nice to know that u r fine. hope finals wont be too difficult&u’ll get a quiet job. i mean,,a job is a job,but smtm it can be ok&smtm,,not really(w/much human interaction eg. lol). the weather’s finally gettin warmer here...i hope u r enjoying spring days too^^ —chem

yeah I hope finals won’t be too bad either hahhaa i’m trying my best and yeah it’s getting warmer here too. IT’S BADMINTON SEASON! LET’S GOO!!

[shaevira]

Au Prompt: I take my grades very seriously and you’re the lazy asshole who asks a ton of off-topic questions to distract the professor and I might be a foot shorter than you but I swear to god I’ll fight you AU

WC: 2.8k

Freezerburn + Cheeky Blake Belladonna.

“So what you’re saying is the cacti juice in Vacuo proved to be valuable in poisoning the rebels just because it made them like super drunk? And so they had like some crazy hallucinations, right?” Yang Xiao Long sounded like an incompetent idiot.

Everyone knows that the Cacti Juice provided medicinal values, but if overdosed, it could lead for severe grand mal seizures to which the rebels of Vacuo thought their teammates had been possessed by the spirits of the Kingdom - which had led the rebels to attack their own in fear of the spirits possessing them too.

Wait a second! This wasn’t even the topic. They were supposed to be talking about the Great Menagerie migration that happened 100 years ago to escape the aftermath of the Mistralian civil war that had occured due to disrest within the capital.

Weiss glared at the back of the blonde’s head who had asked such a stupid question. Weiss had been stuck in this class with this bimbo of a blonde who would constantly interrupt the lessons with asinine questions that usually led them into an hour long discussion of something that was completely off the rails of what they had be originally discussing.

Why was she doing this now? It was 3 weeks away from finals! Weiss knew better than to question ‘why?’ when Yang Xiao Long had been doing these shenanigans all semester. It had taken Weiss nearly all semester to finally lose her cool.

She was a patient girl.

Some days she was alright with the girl’s stupidity who asked stupid questions like “What if Mountain Glenn was the true home base for the mole people?” To which Weiss rolled her eyes and shoved her face into her arms. She would get through this, she told herself...and gotten through it, she had. Almost every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday she had gotten through it.

Weiss didn’t know how the professor didn’t see through all her bullshit. Maybe he was the one in need of a lesson...then again, Professor Port, their World History professor was a very senile man. How he wasn’t dead from just how old he was was already a mystery to Weiss.

How Yang Xiao Long managed to get into college was another mystery in itself.

But this?

Finals week just around the corner? Weiss had enough.

Weiss was already a perfect, grade A student on the dean's list and she wanted to keep it that way. She wondered how the busty blonde compared to her perfect grades, probably not very well if she had to act like that.

The off-topic conversation drolled on. It didn’t matter if Weiss tried to steer the professor back on topic. As Yang would consistently steer them off-topic, and would passive aggressively wink and grin at Weiss, fully aware of what she was doing to Weiss and the rest of the class.

This had slowly begun to anger Weiss, which added onto what everything else Yang had been doing. She wondered if everyone else was just as done with her as she was.

Weiss would put an end to this. Today.

Even if it meant fighting the big blonde brute.

Yang might’ve been built like an mma fighter and an amazonian mixed into one, but a basketball and a soccer player like her probably had no clue how to fight, right?

Weiss huffed, it didn’t matter.

She would confront her. She needed to be ready for the final. If this asshole, and the rest of the class didn’t care about their grades at least she did. She would get her way.

//

Class had let out, and Weiss stalked her rather large prey who seemed to be blissfully unaware of Weiss’s presence and they walked across campus to their cars.

Before Weiss actually let Yang get in and drive off in her car, she stood behind it.

Yang rolled down the window and looked out. “Uh, hey. I think you need to move - I want to go home and you standing in the way of my car doesn’t really help my process of going home.” she snidely commented.

“Yang Xiao -whatever the fuck your name is, I need to have a word with you.” Weiss stated astutely, hands on hips and with a glare that could cut brick.

Yang cut the ignition, and exited her car with a sporting glare of her own. “You got a problem pipsqueak?” she hovered over Weiss menacingly. “Wait a second, you’re that chick from our World History class.” her demeanor changed, a mischievous aura now filled Yang and she crossed her arms and smirked.

Weiss glared. “Excuse me?! My name is Weiss Schnee, and I will be respected!”

Yang laughed in her face. “Right, of course.” sarcasm oozed out of her.

“What is your problem?” Weiss stepped closer looking up at her, hands on her hips and a menacing finger in Yang’s face.

Yang didn’t flinch, and kept her stance. “What’s my problem? Nothing, pipsqueak. You’re the one standing behind my car, in case you didn’t notice.” she motioned over her shoulder.

“No! That’s not what I meant! Why are you such a...insufferable incompetent ignoramus?” Weiss stomped her foot, now clenching her fists and making a scene. Luckily there weren’t many people around the parking lots.

Yang merely stared, seemingly dumbfounded. “Eh?” she tilted her head, not really understanding what Weiss was getting at.

Weiss rubbed the bridge of her nose, “Why. Are. You. SUCH A LAZY ASSHOLE?” she stated bluntly, but with a little more anger in her voice.

“I’m lost, recap?” Yang raised an eyebrow, unphased by the girl having a temper tantrum in her presence.

“I swear, I will fight you…” mumbled Weiss. Weiss was ready to square up. How could someone this dumb make it into college? Weiss remembered through her rage. Scholarships.

She internally groaned.

Through all the ruckus, Weiss had failed to notice someone approach them.

“Yang, what is it with you and the ladies? Is this another one of your failed date attempts?” A black hair girl approached, Weiss turned and recognized the woman to be Blake Belladonna. She was in another of Weiss’s class and luckily she wasn’t as big of a nuisance as Yang was. But how were those two friends?

And did she say ‘failed date attempts?’

Yang eyes widened as did Weiss’s who looked a little astonished.

“W-what?! No!” Yang stepped back from Weiss and made an X motion with her arms.

Blake stepped up to Yang and wrapped her arm around Yang’s shoulder. “Are you sure? This girl is definitely your type.” Blake eyed Weiss up and down. “Feisty. Smart. Pretty. You know I heard her yelling at you from like the Chem building, right?” Blake patted Yang’s shoulder.

Blake was a lot more cheeky then one would presume.

“Blake, I fucking hate you.” Yang glared at Blake, removing her hand from her shoulder. She looked back at Weiss. “Uhh, whatever it was I did...uhm, sorry? Hah...I won’t..do it again?” Yang look a little confused, and well, embarrassed.

Weiss too, looked a little bewildered.

Just exactly what was this about?

Yang fled back to her car, hiding her face as best as she could. Weiss finally moved out of the way with another word while Blake and Weiss watched Yang peel out of the parking lot in a hurry.

“You know she only acts up in your class, right?” Blake crossed her arms, as her eyes followed Yang’s car. “She can be an asshole, but not intentionally. It’s funny too, because I’m pretty sure she would let you beat her up and I know you wanted to.” Blake chuckled.

Weiss turned to Blake and scoffed. “That doesn’t fix the problem that she’s ruining that class! Finals are in THREE weeks, and she has NOT ONCE in the entire semester asked a relevant question.”

“She wants your attention, sweetie.” Blake bluntly stated, her head turned towards Weiss. “She knows how smart you are; but she’s pretty dumb when it comes to everything else. She doesn’t know how to really get your attention without being fucking stupid about it. I’m surprised nobody else has tried to go after her in your class.” Blake paused once more, “Trust me, I’ve seen her try and fail many many times.”

“That makes no sense!” Weiss flailed her arms.

“Yeah, love makes no sense either.” Blake turned and walked away.

Leaving a very confused Weiss in the parking lot.

///

Monday’s class came and Weiss scanned her World History class for Yang. No show. This was odd as Yang had usually never missed class. Surprisingly, without Yang, the class went smoothly and efficiently. Yet, the sudden quietness and lack of commotion had filled Weiss with a sense of unease.

No matter, she thought. She would ace these finals, like she had aced every other class and every other midterm.   

Wednesday class rolled around and again, Yang was nowhere to be seen. Another quiet, and disruption-free class. Weiss was filled with a small anger. Was Yang avoiding her? After what happened on Friday? Was it that really big of a deal?

Besides, didn’t Yang need to learn the material for the upcoming final? How would she learn if she wasn’t in class? What did that imbecile think she was doing?

Weiss’s had been filled with so many questions that Wednesday that were completely unrelated to World History, in fact...she had been thinking solely about Yang. She tried her damned hardest to concentrate, but with the lack of noise and the whole counter-arguments between the class made it hard to do so.

Did Yang actually help Weiss stay interested in the class?

Friday rolled around and once more, Yang was not there. Weiss was able to concentrate this time, but only a little as she had made a plan to leave class early to catch Blake Belladonna as interrogate her.

Five minutes before class let out, Weiss casually walked out the door and waited patiently in the parking lot.

Minutes passed and she spotted the amber-eyed girl casually making her way to her car.

Weiss walked up to her like prey stalking it’s kill. She nearly scared the cat-like girl half to death as Weiss had managed to make her way behind her and touch her on the shoulder. Coming out from her ninja like reaction stance to the scare, Blake turned to to Weiss. “W-weiss?! What the hell? Don’t sneak up on a person like that!”

“Blake Belladonna! Where is Yang Xiao Long?!” Weiss abruptly asked.

“Well, hello to you too. Uhh...Yang is resting?” Blake said.

“Why would she be resting, doesn’t she know she should be studying and coming to class? That idiot won’t pass finals if she doesn’t come!” Weiss lectured.

“Whoa, whoa...calm down pi- I mean Weiss. Well, she slept in on Monday because of some Sunday volunteer event. Then, on Tuesday they had a soccer skirmish, and she tore her ACL and got into surgery pretty fast. She’s out now, so she’s been resting in her dorm.”

Weiss stepped back, a little shocked. She didn’t know Yang volunteered, was Yang actually a good, not lazy person? Wait, she tore something? Her ACL? How little did Weiss know about sports, she wasn’t very sports influenced but if Yang had tore something that required surgery it must’ve been serious. She wondered if it affected Yang’s scholarships here. If she had any.

Weiss didn’t like how she thought about the blonde idiot so often. Or how she slowly started to care about the arrogant asshole who had ruined her whole semester with dumb questions that Weiss would constantly have to correct, or argue about with her and try to steer them all back on topic.

“Oh...do you mind taking me to her?” Weiss now politely asked Blake.

Blake raised an eyebrow. “Uh, sure I guess?”

//

Weiss barged into Yang’s single roomed dormitory. “YANG XIAO LONG!”

Yang flailed popcorn into the air as she turned her upper body around to see a very fiesty short ivory-haired girl invading her home. “Shit. How’d you get in here?!”

Blake waved from the door, stepped out of the room and closed the door leaving Weiss and Yang alone in the room.

“Fucking Blake…” Yang muttered to herself laying her head back on the couch.

“Yang, why didn’t you tell me you hurt yourself?!” Weiss stared at her, with her arms crossed. She tapped her foot impatiently.

“Can’t I relax? I just got home from PT.” Yang groaned.

“How are you supposed to recover and study if you’re out going to PT?!” Weiss sneered.

“Wait, seriously? PT means Physical Therapy. Y’know, to fix help my leg or at least get it moving better.” Yang tilted her head, questioningly.

Weiss stood there, now she was dumbfounded. There was apparently a whole other world that Weiss did not know about.

Weiss looked around the room and pulled up a chair near the couch, which Yang had taken up for very obvious reasons.

“What do you want, anyways?” Yang tried to sit herself up a little straighter as she adjusted her leg. Before Weiss could speak, Yang began once more. “Look, if you’re here about class and whatever and me talking a lot. Yeah, I know what I’ve said and I know what I’m doing. I’m a genuine asshole, there I said it. I’m making an B+ in the class, so the only reason I do it is because I’m bored and there’s a really pretty lady who likes to argue with me about it.” Yang looked at Weiss straight-faced. “If it weren’t for these pain meds, I would totally not be so calm about this.” Yang added.

Weiss sat there with a shocked look about her. “What Blake said was true? You like...like me or something?” Weiss slowly chunked the idea out there. The whole idea that the someone would disrupt a class solely to get the attention of ONE person seemed completely idiotic. Yet, Weiss couldn’t help but find bits and pieces of it endearing.

“Yeah, I do.” Yang sighed.

A silence filled the air.

“Couldn’t you have just told me like a normal human being?!” Weiss scolded her with a frown.

Yang grinned back, she liked the feistiness of Weiss. “No, what fun would that be?!”

Weiss groaned, “Yang Xiao Long if you weren’t in some sort of cast contraption I would be beating you up!” she stared at Yang, who was still widely grinning at her.

“I’d like to see you try shortstuff.” Yang teased.

Weiss stood up over Yang menacingly. “J-just hurry up and get better okay?! So you can come back to class and you can learn what’s needed on finals and no more stupid questions, okay?!”

Yang returned to a straight-face, then to a smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back on Monday. Wait, does this mean I have your attention now because if I don’t...well, I’ve always wondered what the Atlesian military was doing all the way in Vale, wasn’t it to like...take their stuff or something and then like sell it? That’s was the topic last week, right?” Yang put on a fake dumb voice, one she had usually used in class to sound like a top notch dumbass who knew completely what they were doing.

Weiss’s eyes narrowed, knowing what Yang was saying was utter nonsense. “I swear, if you do that, I’ll…” Weiss reared her fist back and faked as if she was going to punch Yang in the nose, but instead flicked her on the nose.

“Ow! That’s rude.” Yang, with quick speed returned the flick movement.

Weiss grabbed her nose and glared.

“You’re cute when you try hard and threaten me.” Yang smirked.

Weiss blushed. “You’re totally insufferable!” she began to leave the room, not wanting to be embarrassed or angered anymore by the big dumb brute.

Yang grabbed onto her arm before she left. “What, no goodbye?”

“I’ll see you Monday, won’t I?” Weiss turned and looked at her.

“Honestly, I was hoping you’d stick around for a bit longer - maybe help me with some of the things I missed.” Yang had a sincere look about her.

Weiss raised an eyebrow. “Only if you tell me about this ACL and how you broke it.”

“I tore it.”

“Oh, right.” Weiss awkwardly smirked.

Yang chuckled.

“Looks like we have a lot of things to learn from each other.” Yang mentioned. “So, we have a deal then?”

“Fine, just no more dumb questions like I said too, alright?”

“Anything for a pipsqueak!”

Weiss groaned.

[jeontaeh]

〚FIFTEEN〛

"Jeon,"

Jungkook kept walking.

"Jungkook,"

Jungkook kept walking, faster now.

"Jeon Jungkook!"

Jungkook stopped, turning around, glaring. "What?" He snapped in annoyance, and saw the silver haired bandana wearing boy standing in front of him, frowning.

"I don't like being ignored." Taehyung said gruffly.

"I don't like being treated like shit, so I guess we're both losers." Jungkook grumbled, turning back around to walk away.

It was the morning after. Monday morning. There were still 15 minutes of breakfast left before classes started, and Jungkook was not in the mood for Taehyung's bullshit. Not today.

See, Jungkook went back to his dorm after last night and decided he HATES Taehyung.

(By hates, he means has such a big crush on that it's physically hurting for Taehyung to treat him so badly.)

"Listen Kook-ah. I really want to talk to you," Taehyung said, walking alongside Jungkook, who humphed, looking the other way.

"Well I don't."

"Would you just hear me out?" Taehyung snapped, grabbing Jungkook's arm and turning him around.

"Hear what? What you did with Eka? Was it fun, V? Did you have fun? Did you fuck her? Did you-" Jungkook started, and Taehyung sighed, and then dragged Jungkook into a janitor's closet, walking in and closing the door behind them.

The moment he did, Jungkook felt himself get grabbed again. Taehyung lifted his chin up, pressing him against the wall. Jungkook looked at him angrily for a few seconds, and then saw Taehyung let out a little chuckle.

"I didn't sleep with her."

Jungkook paused. "What?"

"I never ended up calling her. I.. guess I felt bad for what happened. I'm still confused over it, but.. I-I shouldn't have said those things to you." Taehyung said, and Jungkook gulped.

"It just weirded me out a lot, you know? I mean, how'd you feel if you hung out with a girl and then suddenly she called you her boyfriend or something?" Taehyung snickered, and Jungkook frowned.

"Depends if I was hooking up with her every day." Jungkook said in a small voice, and Taehyung looked a little confused.

Taehyung let that go, and let his hands trail down to Jungkook's waist. "I-I guess- what I'm trying to say is... I shouldn't have been so unnecessarily harsh for no reason." Taehyung mumbled, looking away. Something Jungkook now knows he does while apologising.

Taehyung continued looking to the side, so Jungkook poked his cheek. Taehyung looked at him. "I don't say sorry to, like, anyone. So you better take this in well." Taehyung grumbled, and Jungkook laughed airily.

"Ugh, such a badass." Jungkook crooned, and then reached his hands up to grab Taehyung's shirt. "It's okay. I accept your apology. I was just upset because.. well, you were kind of mean, and- and then in the arcade we had such a good time, but you started flirting with that girl right in front of me, which was-"

"Why's that weird?" Taehyung asked, and Jungkook looked at him, and let out a confused laugh.

"Of course it's weird.. I mean, I was right there, but you still-"

"Woah," Taehyung said, taking a step back from Jungkook. Jungkook looked at him in confusion, and Taehyung put his hands up in defence. "Are you really upset because I got a girl's number?"

Jungkook fish-mouthed for a few seconds, blanking on ow to respond. "A-a little.. I-I thought it was a little insensitive of you, considering I was standing right there-"

"Kook, we're not.. together." Taehyung said, not knowing how that sent a pang to Jungkook's stomach. "I mean- we-we're just fuckbuddies. Nothing more, nothing less."

Jungkook looked at him with his big eyes. "I-I know that." Jungkook stammered, and Taehyung nodded his head curtly.

"Good. So you know that means I don't owe you shit, and you don't owe me shit, right?" Taehyung said, and Jungkook looked at him. "I can flirt with girls, hell, even sleep with them if I want. And you can sleep with and flirt with whoever you want. That doesn't affect us-" Taehyung said, gesturing to the two of them.

Jungkook nodded as quickly as he could, trying his hardest to ensure Taehyung doesn't notice even a bit of Jungkook's hesitance and tensed state. Taehyung nodded, guessing Jungkook understood.

"I don't care about you like that, and you don't care about me like that. We just fuck, and that's it." Taehyung said, a glint in his eye. "Nothing more."

"Nothing less." Jungkook added with a forced small smile, and Taehyung nodded with a grin, reaching his hand forward and touching Jungkook's chin.

"Cool. Anyways, we should probably head to Chemistry. Bell's about to ring." Taehyung noted, and then, without a care in the world, walked out. Walked out like his words didn't just send Jungkook's stomach in a churn.

Jungkook stayed there in the janitor's closet for a few seconds after Taehyung walked out, standing there by himself. God, why was Jungkook so fucking stupid? 17 years without a single crush, and the moment he had one, it had to be on the biggest fuckboy in their school? Who won't accept he's not straight? Who see's Jungkook as someone to fuck, and nothing more?

Jungkook stood against the wall, looking down at the floor, trying to manage his thoughts. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. We just fuck, and that's it.

Jungkook felt like crying. Why couldn't he understand that? Why was his heart so goddamn stupid? Why did it have to burst at the mere sight of Taehyung? Why did his stomach have to erupt with butterflies when Taehyung smiled? Why did his hands get jittery when Taehyung looked at him? Why did his mind make up stupid scenarios of Taehyung calling him his baby- why why why????

Jungkook opened his eyes. No. No Jungkook. You won't do this.

Jungkook knew what he had to do. Break things off with Taehyung. Go back to being frenemies or whatever. Pretend these last few weeks never happened. Go back to seeing him as an annoying ass bitch. Nothing more. Nothing less.

It was the only logical option! What else was Jungkook going to do? TELL Taehyung and potentially get humiliated and embarrassed? Furthermore, Taehyung would literally never even look at Jungkook again if Jungkook admitted to his crush!

So here was the plan.

Break things off with Taehyung.

Don't be a dumb thot anymore and everything goes back to normal.

Great. Awesome. Jungkook loved this plan. He was ecstatic. He clenched his fists all righteous, but then, the door of the janitor's closet reopened. Jungkook looked to the side and saw Taehyung.

Do it now, Jungkook thought. Taehyung walked into the tiny room, closing the door behind him. Jungkook mustered up the courage.

"V.. I think we should-" Jungkook started firmly, but then Taehyung grabbed his waist and pinned him against the wall rather rough. Jungkook's eyes widened, and then Taehyung leaned in and pressed their lips together.

Jungkook felt his hands reach up to Taehyung's neck rather needy, falling into the kiss and letting Taehyung play with his tongue. Jungkook ran his hands through Taehyung's hair, tilting his head a little to kiss him harder, wet and warm feeling between them.

Taehyung pulled away, and looked at Jungkook's eyes, bright, big, brown and confused, cheeks tinted red, lips parted. Jungkook gulped. "W-what was- what was t-that?"

"Nothing." Taehyung whispered, dragging his plump lips down Jungkook's cheeks, to his jaw. "Thought we could.. skip Chem, yeah?"

Jungkook whimpered, hands draping over Taehyung's shoulders. "W-we shouldn't.. Teacher will get mad at us.." Jungkook mumbled, and already felt Taehyung's hard boner against his thigh.

"C'mon- just this once. Won't make mr. straight A stupid skip class," Taehyung snickered, and Jungkook blinked at him. Hhhhh, Jungkook thought. I wanted to break things off with him....

Fuck it. Jungkook felt himself fall down on his knees in front of Taehyung, a position quite vulnerable, looking up at Taehyung, willing to submit. Jungkook mouthed on his clothed member, hearing Taehyung let out a slight grunt, deep voice making Jungkook's back tingle.

He brought down Taehyung's zip and Taehyung reached his boxers down until his cock was freed. Taehyung brought his cock to Jungkook's lips, and the brown haired boy opened his mouth wide, wanting nothing more than to have the throbbing hard-on pressing to the inner walls of his mouth.

God, this was humiliating. How fucking needy he was for Taehyung. Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung, that's all his mind capacitated with. And as he wrapped his lips around his digit and felt Taehyung's hand firmly on his hair, he realised.

Realised he could not break things off with Taehyung. Clearly not now, on his knees with a dick in his mouth.

And y'know what, it's fine. So Jungkook had feelings for Taehyung and is totally falling for him. Who cares! Jungkook didn't want to ruin this fun fuckbuddies relationship he'd created with Taehyung.

And yeah, Taehyung's never gonna like him back. And yeah, Jungkook's kind of a loser, pining over someone who doesn't give a shit about him.

And yeah, Jungkook knows his heart might end up being broken in the end. But for now, it's fine. Everything's fine, and Taehyung's dick is in his mouth.

After a few more minutes of sucking and practically choking, Taehyung came down Jungkook's throat, and Jungkook lapped it up, licking his lips and gulping it down.

Taehyung grinned, and Jungkook got up. Taehyung looked down at Jungkook's crotch, and Jungkook blushed, looking away. He was hard.

"Aw, come here." Taehyung said, and Jungkook blushed and walked closer to him. Taehyung wrapped his arms around his waist and brought him in, so Jungkook was standing with Taehyung's leg wedged between his thighs.

Before Jungkook what was going on, Taehyung began sucking hickies on his neck, pulling Jungkook's zipper down and taking his cock out. Jungkook whimpered, gripping Taehyung's shoulders.

Taehyung continued sucking the hickey onto Jungkook's neck, while the smaller boy began rolling his hips onto Taehyung's thigh, feeling the friction against his cock quite pleasing. Taehyung spanked his ass once or twice, and Jungkook bucked his hips, letting out a pitched gasp.

"V-V-" Jungkook stammered. "Touch me- p-please-"

Taehyung reached down and wrapped his hand around Jungkook's cock. Jungkook felt Taehyung sucking more hickies onto his neck, and it only took around 3 or 4 jerks for Jungkook to cum, splashing onto Taehyung's hand.

"Sorry," Jungkook squeaked, and Taehyung leaned to the side and grabbed a tissue to wipe it off, chucking it into the bin.

Jungkook and him got redressed properly, and Taehyung kissed his neck, admiring his word he did on his neck. Jungkook reached his fingertips over his neck and sighed.

"You didn't give me too many hickies, right?" Jungkook asked.

Taehyung smirked mischievously. "Of course not."

Jungkook nudged his arm and received a pat on the bum as he reached for the door. He opened it, and the moment him and Taehyung walked out, they gasped.

It was the Principal of the school. Mr. Hwang. He was standing right outside the janitor's closet, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.

Jungkook and Taehyung froze, eyes wide. They probably looked... questionable.. as Taehyung looked scared as hell and Jungkook had his lips plump and swollen and red, red spots over his neck, eyes big, guilty. Also they were both skipping class.

Easy to say, they were screwed.

https://jeontaeh.tumblr.com/post/647263791180103680/sixteen

[burningalight]

my binders/locker in grade school were stuffed with so much shit i couldnt find anything...always crumpled up papers, trash etc

chewed pencils/pens, broke them taking them apart in class, lost them, often didn’t have one, frequently borrowing them and forgetting to give them back to the point that certain people wouldn’t give me pencils

could comprehend reading i liked very well, but when we’d have reading groups with boring books id always be lost,  or when the teachers would have one on ones and have u read something short and ask questions after to assess ur reading level, they’d often have to tell me to read it again bc they knew how much i remembered didnt add up to my intelligence and reading speed 

moms college friend gave me an unoffical iq test and i did much worse than i know i shouldve on the reading portion bc she’d play a story and then ask me after to list every detail i could remember and i couldn’t remember anything. but when she played 10 numbers and asked me to say them out loud backwards i scored extremely high ?

couldnt do projects, would be in tears, last minute every time, parents mad bc i need a poster board RIGHT NOW ITS DUE TOMORROW . hated assigned reading, horrible at essays even when they helped us plan them. 

i remember my 7th grade social studies teacher assigning a paper, i wrote extremely detailed and well in the first paragraph or 2, and the following ones got shorter and shorter and were completely bullshit bc i got bored. she told me ‘really strong first paragraph.’ and gave me a B  

talk too got damn fast. customers constantly telling me to slow down bc they cant understand me

my mom always says she had to challenge me as a kid bc i would get bored and get in trouble. i was acting out bc i was understimulated, i happened to like learning (esp numbers and puzzles) bc smart so that’s what i could fixate on and felt stimulated by

lunch detention frequently in 8th grade in my first highschool class, algebra, bc i wouldnt do my homework, at one point he just stopped giving lunch detention for that bc i wouldnt do it. i hated that class bc the math was boring and i never paid attention but would somehow pull off a’s and b’s on tests so i ended up with a B. my first B, and i had brought that up from a D (told my mom it was almost a C, he gave a really hard test and we all did bad etc, when she had to sign a paper about my low grade) at the end of the year, during the exam i was so confused the whole time, it was my first highschool exam and i didn’t know ANYTHING. i ended up with a 92 from guessing, and a curve, and every one of my friends got at least a 93 or better and i felt so stupid bc i was supposed to be the best at math

i would take every highschool class in honors but not one english class bc it required more essays and summer reading and i knew i wouldnt do the reading and would cry over the essays

the only other class i didnt take honors was chemistry bc i knew the honors teacher had a lot of projects and i would be stressing over them. i ended up with an A in the standard chem class even tho i never finished any work in class and didnt do homework, but i was still the smartest in the class and did the best overall

lunch detention for forgetting to get papers signed like report cards. they weren’t even bad grades i just couldnt remember. one time i got actual detention for forging my moms signature bc i got lunch detention for several days straight bc i kept forgetting to get the paper signed 

often had permission slips waiting to be signed the day before the field trip, or told my mom it was picture day the day before or morning of. one time i totally forgot it was picture day and didnt dress up

acting out and not thinking ab the consequences, many referrals.. many more times that my teachers let me get away with acting out when someone else doing the same thing would’ve been punished. one time anna and i left in the middle of class to go with emma to the library, only emma had permission, and my teacher had anna and i do wall sits instead of going to the office. in gym in middle school i would never dress out. i hated the clothes and hated gym bc i was awkward and if we didnt dress out we had to copy pages out of the health textbook the entire time and i would barely write 2 paragraphs bc i was so bored and my hand hurt and he never did anything ab it. i wouldnt dress out at least twice per week if not more. told my mom I had a C bc he had it out for me but i was the problem

in elementary school if we didn’t come to gym day wearing the right shoes we had to go into the back and pick out a pair of sneakers that fit out of a box of shoes, and also borrow socks if necessary. i had to do this frequently bc i never remembered to wear the right shoes

i would extremely often forget my library books and have to sit on the couch waiting for everyone to pick out their books for half an hour

when we were even younger we’d have story time and you had to sit in the middle of the floor inside a big circle of chairs where everyone else was if you forgot your library books. i lost one at one point for months and my parents didnt just pay for it so i had to sit in the middle every time. we found the book on a shelf somewhere in the house 

my chorus teacher never liked me bc i talked too much and i always felt like the worst singer, not bc of my singing but bc she wasn’t ever nice to me

in 7th grade science we learned latin root words and every day we’d play a game where we all stood up and one by one he’d ask for a root and we’d give it. if you got it wrong on the first round you’d have to write it on a piece of paper x amount of times and turn it in. if you were the last person left you were allowed to sit on your desk for the rest of the year, during these games while everyone else had to stand up. i wanted so badly to sit on my desk, esp bc i was fidgety and couldnt stand still, but i would never study them bc i’d forget or not want to if i did remember, even tho i really wanted to know them and sit on my desk. that teacher had a huge soft spot for me and one day i just started sitting on my desk during those. everyone knew i was smart, and it was all the smart kids who got to sit on their desks, so no one questioned it. im not sure if he knew i wasnt supposed to and just let me, or didnt realize i hadnt won bc i was smart. 

hyperlexia? mom said i could practically read before i was taught. i’ve always obsessively air written, ie writing words out w my finger in the air, on my leg etc. 

esp during lectures i doodle excessively to the point that my papers margins have always been covered with random scribbly overlapped words, or song lyrics. the words are usually something someone in the class said. ive started keeping an extra sheet of paper just for scribbling when im taking notes or listening in class. when we finished end of year tests in school i would write down full lyrics to songs on my scrap paper so i wouldnt be so bored. my hand cramps up so much but it was better than staring or trying to sleep with the lights on 

doing things and forgetting to turn them in

hyperfixating on books to cope w boredom and social anxiety, at one point read one per day, i was definitely one of the most frequent people in the library 

‘ The way I see it is if I can get information into my mind, I can do a lot with it but getting it in there in the first place is the really difficult part.’ - not mine

none of my teachers ever told my mom any of this i dont think, bc i was the smartest and i always got good grades, most had a soft spot for me BUT COULDNT SEE I HAD ADHD like damn. one time my fourth grade teacher whom i liked a lot was mad at us and indirectly calling people out, and referred to the fact that some of us never stopped talking , then made direct eye contact with me and i felt rly embarrassed bc i didnt realize i did that until she mentioned it

i often had to move seats if i was near friends bc i wouldnt stop instigating talking

at big lots when i had to run the register i was so painfully bored , fidgety, had to sneak my phone soo much bc i was so bored. when i was on the floor i would put away the go backs very quickly and then take upon myself a project like going through the entire wall of individual drinks and pulling out all the expired ones, it was like 5 carts full. my manager put me in charge of organizing the entire makeup section and all the gross clearance makeup bc she knew id do it the best and fastest 

when bosses have me do inventory i can count the products super fast and efficiently, but then when they have me put them into a spreadsheet i stare at it for hours getting nothing done bc distracted and its boring. ammar told me if i’d just get off my phone i could get it done bc he’d been asking for it for weeks, i wasnt trying to ignore it 

when im trying to do something at work that needs more concentration, i want to cry with frustration whenever i hear the door chime and have to get up and help customers and break my focus

[boyf-canons]

☆I’m The Light Blinking At The End Of The Road☆ [Evan x Reader - Soulmate AU]

[I told myself I wouldn’t let 75% of the posts on this blog be about Evan but I’m w e a k ~Mod V]

TW: none, except a little light swearing and a little of Evan’s anxiety.

Everyone knows about the words. The ones that show up on your body as a child—inky black and scrawled in unfamiliar handwriting, impossible to scrub off. It’s common knowledge that the words will be the first ones your soulmate ever says to you.

However, not everyone acknowledges them. Some people go their entire lives without being entirely sure whether or not the person they love is their soulmate, with only simple “Hi”s and “Hello”s on their bodies. Some couples tattoo their own words, foregoing the system. Who’s the universe to say who you’re destined to be with? The universe doesn’t give a shit about any other aspect of your everyday life; why should it care about your “soulmate”?

That was a lot of people believed, anyway. Evan was one of the “lucky” ones—one of those people that got phrases so specific, it would be impossible to meet his soulmate and not know it. However, it was kind of inconvenient. He spent years wearing sweaters and long-sleeved shirts to cover up the phrase inked on his right wrist: “Are you fucking kidding me?” People gawking at his soul mark coupled with his crippling social anxiety made for a very uncomfortable cocktail of emotions.

He had tried scrubbing it off with soap and water as a kid, even considered getting it inked out with a black tattoo. But the soul marks were impossible to scrub off and he was scared of needles, so he stuck with just keeping it covered. Even with the reminder ever-present, Evan didn’t really believe in the whole “soulmates” thing. After all, his parents had been so-called soulmates, and look where that landed them. Plus, a little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like his own whispered that there was no way anyone in the universe would be meant for someone like him.

Well, that was until a quarter through his senior year.

The trees in town were turning gorgeous oranges and yellows, painting Evan’s sleepy hometown in a warm glow. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder as he waited for Jared to pick him up. The familiar maroon, junky-looking car pulled into his driveway, and Evan opened the passenger side and half-sat, half-fell into the seat.

“Evan, bro, did you finish last night’s chem homework?” Jared asked immediately. Evan had half a mind to say an indignant, “Well good morning to you too,”, but then he started thinking about whether Jared would understand what he was saying and not get the sarcasm, something he didn’t really handle well, oh god what if Jared just thought he was an idiot? He’d stop giving him rides to school and his mom would have to drive him, making her late and then she’d lose her job and he’d have to make ends meet by working at a shady bar and—

“Dude, you okay? You thinking about your weird sex dreams about one of the Murphys again?” Jared cackled. Evan turned bright red.

“OhmygodJaredshutup!”

The rest of the ride to school was uneventful, Jared talking more about his weekend (“Yeah, I crashed a college kegger. It wasn’t cool enough for the infamously awesome Jared Kleinman, so I left after an hour. No big deal.”) while Evan just stared out at the world rushing by. He tried not to look at the tops of trees anymore, and not for too long, unless the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach returned, thinking about last summer.

“Okay, but seriously, I need to borrow your chem homework, or I’m doomed,” Jared said pulling in to his parking spot. Evan nodded—at least he didn’t have to pay gas money—and dug through his backpack.

“Uhhhh….h-here it is,” Evan said, kind of shoving it in Jared’s direction. Jared smiled wide.

“Thanks man! I’ll give it back by lunch.”

“Jared, don’t you get A’s in everything? W-Why can’t you just, I dunno…do the work, yourself, maybe?” Evan suggested, getting out of Jared’s car. He just laughed, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“Wow, look at Hansen over here, a straight-up genius,” Jared said sarcastically. Evan looked down at the ground, focusing on a pile of leaves near the sidewalk. “Yeah, like I would do that. I’ve got way cooler things to do with my friends. My other friends.” Jared tugged on his shirt collar in something that Evan would recognize as awkwardness if everything Jared did wasn’t awkward on its own account.

“O-Okay. Um, see you at lunch?” It was more of a question than a statement, and Evan swore at himself in his head as he walked away. God, why did he always let Jared walk all over him? Because he’s your only friend,” that voice in his head said.

“N-Not true! I have—I have friends,” Evan thought defensively.

“Yeah, and that’s why you’re standing in the middle of the parking lot talking to yourself.”

Goddammit. He was doing this again.

Evan messed with the hem of his shirt, rolling it up and smoothing it out again, wringing it with his fingers. He tried very hard to just focus on his blue converse: stepping on a square floor tile, flecked with brown and gold spots, the way his shoe crinkled up when he stepped—

CRASH!

Evan yelped as he knocked into you full-force, knocking you over and onto the ground. His hands shot out to catch himself, and he did—with his arms pinned right beside your’s face. Wide eyes stared up at him, and he felt his face and neck flush a bright, embarrassed red from the position he was in, effectively landing right on topof you.

Evan opened and closed his mouth, making him look kind of like a fish. “I-I-I’m so sorry, I must have—must have tripped, and um, oh my god this is embarrassing I am so so sorry—“

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Evan’s eyes went wide, and he practically jumped off of you. There was a crowd of people forming around them now, watching the scene in the hallway. Evan felt his cheeks and the tips of his ears burning, felt the sting of tears threatening to spill. His throat felt tight and his hands were starting to shake, fingers fumbling where he was messing with his shirt hem. You shot up, glancing worriedly at the gathering crowd and grabbing your things, cursing under your breath. When you saw Evan, however, your eyes got wide again, and you grabbed Evan’s hand, both gentle and insisting.

“Come on, let’s go,” you murmured, squeezing his hand encouragingly and pointedly not looking at the other people surrounding you, and Evan nodded, getting to his feet and walking quickly away. He didn’t even notice you were holding his hand, until he thought about how warm your hand was—and oh god, were his warm too? Were they getting sweaty like they did the night he had waited for Zoe, but only got sweaty because he was thinking about them getting sweaty and now they were because he was thinking so much—

“Okay, I think we’re good,” you said, relieved, effectively stopping Evan’s runaway train of thought. You had a habit of doing that, Evan thought absently. He didn’t stop to ponder if that was a good thing or a bad thing. You had pulled him into a little alcove in a pretty deserted part of the school. Evan’s free fingers still played nervously with his hem.

“Listen, I’m—I’m sorry, about, um, whatever that w-was, and if you took me aside to say you never want to talk to me again I mean I guess that’s fine?” Evan rambled out, not thinking before he spoke.

You gave him a look of complete confusion. “Why would I not want to talk to you?” you asked. “I mean, I think this gives me more than enough reason to want to talk to you.” You made a move to take off your jacket, pulling down your t-shirt sleeve so this boy who had tripped into you could read the black words inked onto your collarbone in his messy handwriting: “I-I-I’m so sorry, I must have—must have tripped, and um, oh my god this is embarrassing I am so so sorry”.

Evan’s jaw hit the floor. This could notbe happening. He fumbled with his shirt sleeve, pulling it up to show your vulgar first words to him. “Wow, I-I can’t believe they…they even got my, um my stutter right??” Evan said, gesturing to your soul marks.

You stared at him blankly for second before laughing. Full-on cackling, bent-over-at-the-middle laughing. You even snorted a little bit, slapping a hand over your mouth. Evan suppressed a giggle; that was kind of…cute?

“This is insane,” you said, still kind of laughing. “The first thing I get when I move here is my soulmate just, showing up out of the blue? What the hell?” And then you were laughing, and Evan was smiling shyly, and then laughing along with you. Two laughing weirdos in an alcove in a high school hallway.

“I’m—I’m (Y/N),” you finally said, holding out your hand.

“E-Evan. Hansen.” He tentatively took it in his own, not objecting a bit when you threaded your fingers through his.

“Well, hello, Evan,” you said, sweetly looking into his eyes. “I’m just loving this incredibly awkward first meeting we’re having, but I don’t want to be late on my first day of classes. Maybe we could meet up later…?” you asked hesitantly. Evan felt his cheeks grow pink again.

“Oh, um, yeah! Yeah, of course. I mean, what kind of guy would say no, to his soulmate, right? God. Soulmate. Um. Wow.” Evan’s still confused and bewildered rambling made you laugh.

“Yeah. Wow.” You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. “I guess I’ll see you later, Evan Hansen.” You smiled at him one last time and squeezed his hand, letting your hand fall from his grasp. You could barely contain your excitement as you walked down the hallway, shoulders hunched and smile wide.

Evan watched you go, out of breath suddenly. He couldn’t believe the universe gave him such good luck—you were so pretty, and caring, and funny, and god you were just so cute, this was impossible. There was no way you were real.

Then, he glanced back down at the words on his wrist, the objectively vulgar words taking on completely new meaning. Instead of feeling like the surrounding chilly fall air, he felt like early spring, in bloom and bursting at the seams.

~~~~

Fic and head canon requests are open! ~Mod V☆

[mathtc]

TC May Challenge 1-22

Since I missed the first 22 day and I really don’t wanna get out of bed rn

Day 1 – Have you ever said something embarrassing to/in front of your TC?

Yeah. I think one time he said sth about proposal and I screamed someone proposed here?! It sounds normal now but I swear I sounded like a little fangirl. My rights to speak should be taken away.
 Day 2 – When did your TC start teaching you? Does he/she still teach you?

Yes. Two years ago.
 Day 3 – Do you know anything about your TC’s childhood/youth?

I know where he went to school? Oh and his middle school pic. Thank you Jesus. 
Day 4 – Describe your TC’s eyes.

Hazel.

Day 5 – What’s your favourite outfit on him/her?
 Blue t shirt

Day 6 – How do you try to impress your TC?

I usually tried hard in studying, not only in his subject. I make jokes?? 
Day 7 – Describe what you think your wedding would look like. What are you both wearing? Who’s invited? What’s for dinner?

OH WOW this question. Actually haven’t given thoughts on this. But I will now! Probably simple, in a church, closest friends and relatives are invited only. 
 Day 8 – Have you ever caught him/her staring at you? How did you react?

Yeah. When we were having a work lesson. He awkward smiled after I caught him. I think he might be in a middle of a thought or something. I won’t read too much into staring. 
Day 9 – If you would buy your TC socks, what would your chosen ones look like?

I’m gonna buy one with periodic table on it. He hates chem as much as I hate socks. 
Day 10 – If he/she visited your family for any reason and you’d have to cook, what would you cook?

I’m not great at cooking. I’ll have to look up something real simple. 
Day 11 – If you lived together, would you rather have kids or pets with him/her?

Kids. He like kids. I like kids. Enough said. 
Day 12 – What is your opinion on age gap relationships? Do you think a certain age gap isn’t good anymore?

I was against this before this tc shit. Now there’s more insight on this. I think being with someone older is no difference than being with someone that is your age. We are all human after all. 
Day 13 – What would you do if a friend told you she had a crush on your TC?

My friend does actually. We get along real good. Again, it’s nice to share and talk this w somebody openly. 
Day 14 – Do you know when your TC’s birthday is? How old is he/she?

Yes. I said happy birthday to him. 30ish, privacy reasons. 
Day 15 – What would you do if he/she found your blog, knew it was about him/her but he/she was still trying to figure out whose blog it is?

Hahah I think he would know. Too much hints and too much exposures. I would be chill about it. But again, I’m graduating so. 
Day 16 – If you were on a class trip with your TC and a friend of yours wasn’t feeling well in the middle of the night, would you be the one to knock on your TC’s door loudly and wake him/her? Would the sight of his/her sleepy face and pajamas be worth standing there in your own pajamas and with your sleepy face?

AHAHAH FK YEAH. This is a bad decision btw. But I think with my impulse so this is definitely something I would do. And no it would not be worth it, that’s why it’s a bad decision. 
Day 17 – Can you remember what happened in the last dream you had about your TC?

I think I had a dream about him last night?? Forgot what happened tho. There was a dream that we just hanged out. It was nice :)
 Day 18 – Has your TC ever had a conversation about you with your parents? If yes, what did he/she say?
 Yeah, he chatted with my hose parents. It was a nice convo. He said something like oh she’s a nice student, she’s smart. My host dad later told me “wow that is one young teacher.”

Day 19 – Think of a song that reminds you of your TC and tell us your favourite line from it.

OMG. Um I guess the most famous one here in Tumblr is TALK ME DOWN.

My other friend who also has a crush on him discussed this a lot in the car actually. Any songs came up. Not all are innocent. 
Day 20 – What was the best mark you had in one of your TC’s tests? Did he/she say something to you about it/write something on it?

It’s a hard class, he usually gives a curve and I am usually the one who sets it. So you get it.

He usually write “Nice!” besides it. Btw he gives comments on tests, they usually sounds angry in a way, it’s really funny. 
Day 21 – Have you ever stalked your TC online? If yes, what did you find? If no: do it and tell us what you find, it’s fun!

Guilty. I know a lot. Way too much tbh. His house, his phone #, his middle school, high school, place where he brother works, where he brother graduate, house he lived in when he is a kid, review packets he wrote 5 years ago.

Internet is a very very scary place. Be careful kids. 
Day 22 – Does your TC come to school by car/tram/bus? Car: Do you know what car he has? Tram/bus: If you come by tram/bus as well, have you ever seen him at the station or on the vehicle? Did you talk to him?

Car. Yes I do. There’s a funny story relating to this car things too.

There’s one time I saw him on the car. I waved he waved back.