#it's also setting back class progress like the amount of lessons I have to push back because two face was in the fucking area!

[gothamitederogatory]

Working in a relatively busy part of Gotham has its perks. On one hand, there are cafés and food places nearby and easily accessible for lunch breaks. On the other, it also means that we are directly in the line of fire every other Big Villain Event.

[lykaonimagines]

Affection - Defender!Strange x Reader

My first time writing for Defender Strange, definitely got inspired by some of the posts I’ve seen about him recently and had to give him a try. ���

Paring: Defender!Strange x Sorcerer F!Reader

Word Count: 4,372 (Things got a bit out of hand 😬)

Description: Defender Stephen’s jealousy gets the best of him while watching his wife teach a combat class at Kamar-Taj.

Other Things: Pre-establish relationship/they’re married. Defenders make appearance. Strange is jealous, and HC that this him is more than ok with some PDA when he’s in that headspace. He’s also a bit subby. 

Warnings: Suggestive. Jealousy. Some swearing. Not really spoilers for MoM? It’s referencing the character from the movie, but his life prior to events in the movie. 

Masterlist

Leaning against a nearby building, Stephen surveys the various training sessions going on in the courtyard. He tried to stop by every so often to catch some of the training at Kamar-Taj in the moment. Reports of progress from the masters were adequate, but they didn’t replace seeing the work the students were putting in with his own eyes. He liked to pick out the ones flourishing to watch for more responsibilities down the line and harder tasks to test them. He wanted to know his possible future Masters of the Mystic Arts from the beginning.

He also enjoyed stepping in to help on occasion, running classes when he had the time and giving one-on-one lessons to those struggling. After his own difficult start at Kamar-Taj, he knew for some it just took a push in the right direction and some help. He’d also heard that his appearances raised moral, making the students excited to see the Sorcerer Supreme himself on-site and interacting with them.

And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t purposely drop by when a certain master was teaching. Watching his wife in her element filled him with an indescribable amount of pride and love. The way she so artfully crafted her magic, each spell flawless and quick. The way her students watched her with awe.

Then there were classes like today. Hand-to-hand combat days. He should have been making his way around the courtyard inspecting each class, but he found himself glued to the spot watching Y/N. Damn her sparring attire. While practical to have all fabric tight to the skin when you intend on grappling with someone… every movement of her body as she demonstrates different attacks seems to set his blood on fire.

She’d since split the class into pairs and had been walking around checking everyone’s form and technique, the momentary break from sparring herself tempting for him to go see her.

Before he can decide, one of her students currently flat on the ground calls her over for help. Stepping closer to them, he picks up the student’s voice as she helps him to his feet.

“Master Y/L/N, could you be my partner? I need some extra help,” he asks, making Stephen raise his brow at the overtly innocent tone coming from the man’s mouth.

“Of course Conner, we’ll go through it slow and see what you’re struggling with yeah?” Y/N responds with a smile, patting the student on his shoulder.

Y/N takes a step back and motions for him to come at her, “Grab my forearms.”

Stephen watches with slight annoyance as his hands slide up her forearms a little too slow.

“Great, now what would you do, immediately after grabbing me,” she pushes, the student’s eyes flicker over her far too long for Strange’s liking.

After a moment he throws her away by her forearms and circles around her quickly to throw his arms around her waist, one hand splayed across her stomach, and an arm just under her chest.

Gnawing at the inside of his cheek, Stephen manages to keep himself still. Conner knew what he was doing. Surely he did. This wasn’t some coincidence.

“Now what’s wrong with this hold Conner?” she asks calmly.

“Uh… I think it’s right?”

“You’re giving me far too much movement, there are at least twenty ways I could easy break out of this. When you’re holding from behind, you want to use both of your own forearms not your hands. Fingers are easily breakable and don’t hold much in. Cage the person with your forearms. Whether it’s holding on for dear life with both forearms locked around the waist, or one around the waist and one on the neck. Like so,” she instructs, grabbing one of his arms and placing it across her throat. “There’s a lot of damage you can do in the throat. And people aren’t usually going to thrash as much because you’re in a place of power to crush their windpipe. They have to be more careful with their movement.”

“So you can’t get out now, I have you at my mercy?” Conner teases, his arm tightening on her throat.

Before Stephen can step forward to pull him off her, she’s already popped her elbow back into his head, sending the apprentice stumbling back holding his nose.

“Surely you don’t think me so easily defeated?” she responds with a smirk. “I am training you and taking it slow for you to learn, but I feel I should remind you that I am a Master of the Mystic Arts and I specialize in hand-to-hand combat, not one of your classmates. Now come at me.”

Conner frowns and looks at Y/N, his eyes flickering across her as he chooses his move.

After a moment he dashes across the sparring ring and throws his arms around her waist tightly, confusion on her face at his tactic.

Before she can react to the odd hug, he’s thrown her on the ground, throwing his body on top of hers to attempt to hold her down. His hands exploring her backside far too much for Stephen’s liking.

Y/N quickly sends him flying back off her, scrambling to her feet with a new fire in her eyes.

But before she can say a word to the apprentice, Stephen strides over to the ring and stands between the two.

“Doctor Strange?” Y/N asks, her own brow raising at his sudden appearance.

“Master Strange?” he calls back, briefly turning to wink at her.

“Why did you call her Master Strange?” Conner asks, swearing when he realizes he forgot to bow, stumbling to do so for the Sorcerer Supreme in front of him.

Turning back to the apprentice with a threatening smile, “It sounds like you may have not paid attention in your introduction to her, but my wife goes by either her married or maiden name here. I personally prefer calling her Master Strange, for obvious reasons.”

“I- I wasn’t aware you two were married,” he responds quickly, his eyes darting between the two of them, his arms visibly shaking.

“Clearly,” Stephen responds, still holding his tight-lipped smile. “Now how about I give you a one-on-one lesson and we let Master Strange get back to teaching the class?”

“I- uh, aren’t you busy sir?”

“I actually have just enough time, I like to help with training don’t you worry,” he responds, and with that shoos the others away, his wife shooting him a pointed look as she goes back to her class.

“You’re going to attempt to grapple me,” Stephen says as he stands tall in the circle, his arms at his sides. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Conner nods his head and frowns as he sizes up the Sorcerer Supreme, sprinting at him within seconds.

Before he can reach him, Strange makes a quick motion with his hand and sends the apprentice flying back, hitting the ground with a groan.

“Again,” he repeats simply, turning his neck quickly to crack it.

The man stumbles to his feet once again, circling around Strange then bolting toward him from a different angle, once again being blasted away by a ball of energy.

“Again.”

And the pattern rolls on, Strange not moving from his spot as he repeatedly rebukes the apprentice’s attacks time after time until finally the man falls to his hands and knees, “I can’t do it.”

Strange glances from the student to the rest of the class, most of which had lost interest in their own sparring to watch the display. As a bell tolls he hears Y/N dismiss her class, and he kneels down to Conner on the ground.

“You did that 47 times,” he comments. “And you didn’t once try to block it or defend yourself.”

“I-it’s hand-to-hand combat, I thought I have to rely on physical ability,” he responds back dejectedly, running a hand through his hair.

“Kid we’re sorcerers, not MMA fighters,” Strange says. “We fight with a mixture of magic and physical ability. You’re not trying to win competitions, there isn’t a prize for being the best at wrestling someone to the ground. You use what you have at your disposal to win. You fight like your life depends on it, because if you continue down this path with us, it will. Few of us are spared, combat isn’t taught for fun.”

The apprentice nods slowly, finally looking up at the Sorcerer Supreme in front of him.

“Now what should you have done?”

“Tried to block it with a shield, then rush in to grapple?”

“Are you answering me or asking me?” He asks with a grin.

“Block the attacks and rush in when able,” Conner nods confidently, giving the man in front of him a hesitant smile.

Strange pats his knee encouragingly and stands, offering a hand to pull him up, “Now let's do this properly.”

The pair spends the next forty minutes sparring, the apprentice finally being able to block Strange’s attacks and get himself in position to grapple him.

“Much better, you’re definitely getting there,” Strange praises with a confident nod.

Conner bows toward him with a smile, “Thank you for your help sir.”

As he turns to leave, Strange calls out to him once more, “And one more thing kid.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t feel up my wife. Or make any other poor attempts to seduce her. Also don’t try to lie and make a fool of yourself, we both know what you were doing. If I catch your hands drifting or hear another line like that again though, we will have issues. And I can assume you don’t want to have issues with me. So it’s just not going to happen again, correct?”

“Y-yes sir, never again sir,” he stutters as he bows toward him once again. “I apologize.”

“Now off with you,” he mutters, nodding toward the lunch hall and turning to pick up some of the discarded sparring weapons on the ground as the apprentice runs off.

“At least that shade of green compliments the red in your outfit,” Y/N calls out to him with a teasing tone, approaching Stephen from where she’d been leaning against a pillar watching the training.

“No clue what you’re talking about,” he comments, stopping his clean up to focus on adjusting the guards on his arms.

“The jealousy is almost cute, but very obvious darling,” she presses, his gaze flickering up to her. “You knocked him on his ass for thirty minutes straight while the rest of the class watched. A bit harsh.”

“I did end up teaching him,” Stephen responds indignantly, sighing as she raises an eyebrow at him. “If he didn’t want to be knocked on his ass, he shouldn’t be feeling up my wife in combat training.”

Chuckling at his statement, she steps in closer to him and runs a hand down his cheek, “I was going to speak to him about it after class you know.”

“I felt like a firmer hand was necessary,” he comments, leaning into her touch. “I was proving a point.”

“Was the point that ass grabbing is only appropriate in sparring between us?” she questions as she reaches behind him to give his a squeeze.

“Exactly, glad we’re on the same page,” he nods, leaning in to give her a kiss when suddenly she pulls him into a grapple.

The two scuffle around in their sudden match, kicking up dirt as they fight to get the upper hand and bring the other down.

After a few minutes, Y/N sweeps her leg out, knocking his feet out from under him. The Sorcerer Supreme hits the dirt with a grunt, his wife promptly dropping onto his lap before he can react.

“Cheater,” he grumbles, his hands reaching up to grip her thighs on either side of him.

“Oh?” she asks with a glint in her eye. “If I remember right, we’re supposed to take every advantage we see and fight like our life depends on it, because one day it will.”

Rolling his eyes, his hands slide slowly up her thighs and behind her to grasp her ass and pull her closer.

“Oh there’s you taking your husband perk I see,” she teases, reaching forward to pull the hair-band barely holding on from his hair. Running her fingers through his long locks, she brushes them out of his face.

“One of the endless perks,” he purrs, his fingers kneading into her skin, her breath catching in her throat.

Swiftly reaching back to grab his wrists, she pulls them back and slams his arms to either side of his head, leaning over him to hold him in place.

Lightly tugging at her grasp, he smirks up at her, “Awfully bold of you, seeing as lunch hour ends soon.”

As if on cue, a bell tolls and the first of the students start casually strolling into the courtyard.

“And you have no problem with this?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. “All the students, seeing the Sorcerer Supreme defeated and held down at his wife’s mercy?”

“Let them look,” he growls, his hips doing a quick roll against her core above him, chuckling at the strained gasp from her lips. “Hell if I care that they know I belong to one of the strongest sorcerer’s in this universe. In fact, maybe they need to be reminded of that fact love.”

“Oh?” she asks with her own smirk. “Who do you belong to Stephen?”

“Only you darling,” he responds softly, his tongue poking out to quickly swipe across his lip.

Lowering her body down to to his, she captures his lips in a hungry kiss, a chorus of wolf-whistles coming from the students nearby, causing their kiss to erupt into chuckles on both sides.

Releasing his wrists, she quickly gets to her feet, offering him her hands to help pull him up.

Once he’s on his feet, he goes to work brushing the dirt from his robes, as she circles behind him to comb her fingers through his hair. Deftly wrapping the hair band around it, she adjusts the greying hairs into place and nods approvingly at her work.

Giving a quick tug to the ponytail, she brushes a soft kiss across the exposed skin on his neck and chuckles at the strangled groan that comes from his throat.

Spinning around to face her with eyes narrowed he leans in to press another kiss to her lips, “I feel like I’m owed some attention tonight.”

“Oh are you now?”

“Teasing me and getting me all worked up,” he complains with a smirk. “And right after I suffer someone attempting to seduce you away from me.”

Stepping in closer to her husband, she leans up to whisper in his ear, “Don’t worry, I’m very much looking forward to you trapped under me, begging for me to touch you. I wouldn’t miss it for the world Stephen.”

Her lips ghost over his ear, sending a chill down his spine as he promptly wraps an arm around her waist, settling a hand on her opposite hip as she leans into his side, “I think you need to spend the rest of the day with me. Wong can handle the rest of the teaching, and I have a meeting.”

“You need me at your side for a meeting?” she asks as he leads her through the courtyard and toward one of the buildings.

“Your presence just makes the day better,” he admits, directing a quick smile toward her, pulling the door open to his office.

“Who exactly are we now meeting with?” she asks as he plops into his chair, prompting pulling her onto his lap, her legs swing across his to lean back into him casually.

“The Defenders going on the next mission,” he responds, flipping through the papers on his desk, one arm still around Y/N.

“Are you going with them?”

“I’d thought about it,” he admits, his gaze flickering from the paperwork to her face. “But they should be able to handle it with Master Whitlock I’m sending with them, I have urgent matters that came up unfortunately preventing me from going.”

“Exactly what urgent matters are those?” her heads lulls happily against his shoulder, shaking slightly as he chuckles.

“For them? An urgent mystic issue at the New York Sanctum Sanctorum,” he responds as he carefully signs his name on the form, hand slightly shaking at the effort. “The true answer however, I desperately need some alone time with my wife.”

“Is my Stephen not getting enough attention lately?” she teases, shifting herself up in his lap to bend down his collar and press a kiss to the side of his neck.

He shivers at the contact, grip tightening on his pen and eyes drifting shut.

“I’ll never have enough attention from you,” he corrects, leaning into her as she sucks at the skin on his neck. “And maybe I could benefit from a reminder that I’m the object of your affections.”

Her lips part from his neck for a moment, fingers running through his ponytail, “Hmm, maybe I spoke too soon. The jealousy is sort of cute. You need a reminder that you’re mine dear?”

He nods back quickly with a sharp intake of air as she continues her assault on his neck.

Pulling back after a few moments to pepper kisses over the area, she bends his collar back up with a satisfied smile, “That’ll have to do for now, it’s up to you if you want your superhero friends to see. Or just sit here knowing I blatantly left my mark on your skin… just too quick of a head turn could reveal it.”

Reaching up to cup her jaw, he turns her toward him and captures her lips with a kiss. “This meeting is going to be torturously long isn’t it?” he mumbles as their lips break apart.

“Oh you know it will,” she responds, adjusting herself in his lap, twisting a bit more than necessary.

He buries his face against her neck, letting out a slow hiss at the contact, “I’m about thirty seconds from canceling it and going home.”

“Too late,” she responds brightly, the door to his office opening much to his displeasure.

Stepping into the office, Iron Fist raises a brow at the sight of Y/N on the Sorcerer Supreme’s lap, and his face pressed to her neck, “Are we interupting something here?”

“No it’s fine, just spending a quick moment together, take them when you can as you surely know,” Y/N answers, smiling at the man and ushering him and his companions in.

“Mr. Strange, Mrs. Strange,” Namor acknowledges them as he walks through the door and takes a seat.

“Doctor.” “Master.” The two of them correct immediately, Stephen’s face finally lifting from her neck as they share a glance and laugh.

Namor rolls his eyes and taps impatiently on the desk, “How you’ve found a woman that perfectly embodies you, I’ll never know.”

“Are you talking about the fact that the two of them can level a fucking country in a matter of seconds on sheer magical power alone, or that they’re disgustingly in love with each other and titles?” Luke Cage asks as he takes his own seat.

“All of the above,” Jessica Jones answers with a disgusted noise. “Less necking, more talking. We have shit to do.”

“Well I’ll leave you all to it,” Y/N announces as she swings her legs down from his to meet the floor. “I’ll see you at home Stephen.”

Before she can take even two steps away, his arm is wrapped back around her waist and tugging her back into his lap with a loud ‘oof’ from her lips.

“Master Strange will be joining us today,” he announces, picking up a sheet of paper and sliding it across the desk to Namor. “Mission brief is here. Should be simple enough. I’m not able to attend due to an issue at my Sanctum, but I will be sending another master with you.”

“Oh so we’re borrowing your wife for the night? Works for me,” Iron Fist answers with a teasing smile, the rest of the room chuckling at the instant frown on the Sorcerer Supreme’s face.

“Well she is the best besides you right? Only makes sense she be the one that goes with us,” Luke continues.

Stephen’s grip on Y/N’s waist tightens, as does his jaw as he replies sharply, “While Y/N is incredibly gifted at the Mystic Arts and more than capable, she’s also needed at the Sanctum with me. Master Whitlock will be joining you, the title of Master isn’t given out easily, he knows what he’s doing.”

“Jealous baby?” Y/N whispers in his ear as she leans back against him, chuckling as his cheeks redden. “Maybe another day I’ll join you all, it’s always fun to get out and kick some ass,” she responds louder.

“Come on Stephen,” Iron Fist says as he leans casually against his desk. “Let her out for the night, I’m sure you can handle whatever by yourself and let her have some fun running with a team.”

“It’s Doctor Strange for one,” he nearly growls in annoyance. “And destroying a mystic anomaly with the potential of being a large threat isn’t a fun outing. It’s still serious work.”

Iron Fist raises his hands in defense and backs away from the desk, “Sorry Master Y/N Strange, tried to get you out of house arrest.”

Y/N laughs and pats Stephen’s arm gently, “Seriously I’ll go at some point. I’ve heard a lot about you all, and I’d love to get to see what you can all do in person. Instead of just being one of your chauffeurs through the cosmos. Plus a planned mission instead of waking up to all hell breaking loose, it’s a divine thought.” 

“The perks of marriage to the Sorcerer Supreme hm?” Namor asks with a chuckle. “The fabric of time and space ripping outside your bedroom window, constantly on duty and traveling, any number of superheroes or sorcerers stumbling into your home any hour of the day. Must be a lot.”

Stephen’s chest tightens at the hero’s words, that sinking feeling in his gut he always gets when he thinks of that aspect of their marriage. Of their life together. Of how she deserves a better life. Free of chaos and worry.

“I won’t say it’s not rough at times, but it’s never boring,” she responds, her hand slipping down to intertwine her fingers with her husband’s on the armrest. “But I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, doing anything else. I chose this life. And any amount of chaos is worth the time I’ve got at this guy’s side. However long we may have.”

Her word release the tension in his chest, choosing instead to well up in his throat as he looks at his wife and pulls her closer until she rests her head against his chest. Looking back to the heroes standing in front of him, he quickly clears his throat, “This mission should be rather in and out. The sheet I gave you shows the best entrance to the place we’re getting the energy reading from and everything we do know. Master Whitlock was briefed on any other information we have.”

Looking across the room at his clock, “And he should actually be right outside the office door now ready to portal you all there.”

“We’re being kicked out,” Luke states, a smirk as his face as he stands.

They all give their goodbyes and head out, the heavy wooden door slamming shut behind them before Stephen sighs heavily.

“Everything ok?” Y/N asks, her free hand reaching up to run her nails lightly through his facial hair.

“You don’t know how much I needed to hear those words,” he admits after a moment, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“That I want to be with you?”

“I usually feel as if… well…” he begins to trail off until she turns his head towards hers.

“You feel as if what?”

“That you’re putting up with all this to be with me. That one day you might get sick of it and leave for someone that can give you a normal, safer life. I know our relationship isn’t easy.”

“As if,” she snorts and he chuckles against her. “In all the years you’ve known me, have I ever given you the impression I’m looking for a normal and safe life? Seriously Strange, I didn’t marry the Sorcerer Supreme and leader of a superhero gang while dreaming of a life in the suburbs and working a nine to five. I married the man I love, who is the most powerful, badass, talented sorcerer that dedicated his life to protecting our reality and teaching the mystic arts. I believe in what you do, in you, in Kamar-Taj, and in us. I’m here because I’m going to be at your side doing these things no matter what. I might as well sign a damn paper that makes you legally mine, because I’m damn sure always going to want to be shoving you down onto that four-poster bed and fucking you dumb at the end of the day.”

Pressing his forehead to hers, he sighs happily and captures her lips with his own, both of them moving lazily against one another, “I’m a lucky man.”

“Damn right.”

Chuckling he finally leans back to look at her, watching as her hand drifts slowly down his chest, past his belts, and slips under his robes to palm him, “How about we head home and get started on what was it… you fucking me dumb?”

“Oh yes, the only thought in that big brain of yours is going to be desperately begging for me love,” she smirks at the shiver that runs down his spine.

“Yep, we’re done with work for today,” he announces, quickly scooping her into his arms and pulling his sling ring out to make a portal to their bedroom. “Urgent mystic matters await and such.”

“About damn time.”

-----

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[oblxvion]

priority | armin arlert

-> pairing: jealous!armin arlert x f!reader

-> wc: 2.1k

-> warnings: smut, alcohol consumption, slight corruption, creampie, slight voyeurism at the end, a bit of mean!armin

armin was beyond furious. seeing you waltz around jean’s apartment, talking to every single one of his guy friends in the room in that short dress of yours, tits threatening to spill out, drove him insane. you were his, and his alone. it seemed that you wanted attention as you made your way over to the fridge, grabbing your god knows how many, drink of the night. 

you were having fun, you hadn’t had this much fun in a while. you recently had been focusing a lot on school and family that you barely had time to go out with your friends. of course, they didn’t mind you not hanging with them, you had your priorities. armin was also one of your priorities, but right now, it sure as hell felt like he was at the bottom of his list.

you and armin had first met in your first year at your new university through some of his friends. you had transferred from your old college to shiganshina university partially because of the fact that you disliked how the school was operated the year before. you were first introduced to everyone by eren due to the fact that you shared a class together, and frankly, he took a liking into you. he brought you to one of the functions that jean had and that’s where you had met armin. although eren was undoubtably attractive, there was something about armin that was just different. 

from there, your relationship continued to progress and grow, little hangouts turning into dates just the two of you and then before you knew it, you were both exclusive for a large portion of your sophomore year of college before you decided to make it official. now, you’ve been in relationship for a year. since you were nearing the end of your college career, you both had decided to move in with each other at the beginning go your senior year. life with armin was great, aside from the fact that he was extremely protective when it came to you.

armin took a sip of his beverage and set it down beside him and leaned back against the counter, his eyes following your every move. you looked good, really good, almost too good but you were prancing around a little too much for his liking. you strolled over to him, quite a bit tipsy from the amount of alcohol you consumed.

“hi baby,” you slurred, wrapping your arms around his neck for support. his masculine cologne clouding your nose, he always smelled amazing. he held you in his arms as you had yours around his neck. for some reason, you missed him even though he was right here with you. you weren’t that drunk, were you? 

“hi angel,” he whispered into the crook of your neck. “having fun?” if you weren’t intoxicated, you would be able to the hear the annoyance in his tone. you gave him a small smile, you really had no idea what you had gotten yourself into. 

“mhm,” you nuzzled into his neck before letting go and dashing off to continue playing drinking games with the rest of the boys. but you barely made it to the table before you tripped over your foot and fell forward, into eren’s arms.

this was the last straw for armin.

he did not like that one bit.

“hey, woah, y/n, are you good?” eren asked as he held you up right, clearly concerned that you could’ve face planted on the floor. you felt your cheeks heat up at his comment, embarrassed by your actions.

“i — ” you began but you were quickly interrupted with the sound of armin’s voice.

“i’ll talk to her, i think she’s had too much to drink,” he insisted, grabbing onto your forearm and pulling you away from eren’s grasp. he didn’t want to seem like a complete asshole, but the thought of another mans hands on your body, sexual or not, made his blood boil.

“oh, uh, sure,” eren scratched the back of his head, confused, armin seemed to be a bit off tonight. 

armin forcefully pulled you through the hallway and into one of the guest rooms, pushing you up against the nearest wall. you had no idea what was going on, why was he acting like this? armin was usually the calm and collected person in the relationship.

“i don’t know what shit you’re trying to pull, y/n, but it isn’t fucking funny,” he spat, his face millimeters away from yours as his arms enclosed you between him and the wall. you could almost feel his anger radiating off of him, but for what reason?

“i don’t know what you mean,” you squeaked, looking up at him from under your eyelids. you rarely saw this side of him, why was he so upset?

“you don’t know what i mean? c’mon, y/n, don’t be stupid,” he sneered as he brought his hands down to your waist, voice softening. “this dress, oh baby, you look so good in it. but why are you all over the other boys, flaunting off what’s mine, hm?”

it all made sense now. armin’s actions happened because he wanted you to focus on him, him to be your priority, not the other boys. you weren’t even paying any attention to them, you only were really talking about random things. but still, you didn’t think that it would get him this upset. 

“and then when eren’s hands were on you, fuck, you did that on purpose, right? to rile me up? you know how much i hate it when another guy touches you, especially eren.” armin knew that eren had feelings for you in the past. he had no idea if eren still did because he denied it, but he didn’t believe eren. 

his lips ghosted over your ear, sending shivers down your spine. he hadn’t even touched you yet, but his words made you feel hot and bothered. you didn’t dare speak back, thinking that you’d make him even more upset. but to your despair, he was pissed. you turned your head away from him, nervous to meet his lustful glare. he took a step back, eyeing your body up and down. you looked so helpless up against the wall, lips trembling. “getting all shy on me now? you weren’t so shy earlier.”

“how about i give you a quick lesson and remind you who you belong to, yeah?” he whispered, coming back towards you, hands back on your waist moving down to your ass as he pulled you into a messy kiss. the feeling of his lips on yours for the first time that whole night made your head heavy, and the buzz of the alcohol was not helping. it was intoxicating, the kiss, his hands on your body, everything.

“armin, fuck,” you whined into his mouth, making his pants tighten at the mere sound of your voice. the way you made him feel, you had no idea what you did to him, even after all this time of being with you. he wanted to please you, but wanted to punish you for what you were doing earlier. he mumbled a quiet “as you wish,” before slowly bringing his hand down to where you needed him most. 

you had a healthy sexual relationship with armin, you tended to fuck often. but this time, there was something driving him aside from pleasure, and it made you weak in the knees. he gently hiked your dress up so it was around your waist, only to reveal a pair of lace panties that were a pretty shade of baby pink, more importantly, his favorite.

“you wore these tonight?” why you had decided to wear those specific panties tonight, you had no idea. but you now knew that you were in for it. 

“y — yes, but,” you stuttered, you didn’t know what to say.

“god, you’re such a fucking slut.” he spat, his cruel words hurt you, as they were usually only praise. “i can’t believe you.” you remained silent as armin began to pull down his sweatpants and boxers, revealing his length, precum leaking from the tip. he was above average length, you were used to his size. armin was impatient, you had been flaunting around all goddamn night and he was full of it. in one swift movement, he turned you around so your chest was pressed up against the wall as the pulled your panties down to pool at the floor. 

oh, you were so in for it.

in one thrust, armin sheathed himself inside your sopping heat, earning a loud moan from you. you had barely gotten any prep from him but you didn’t need it. the moment he had pulled you into the room alone, your arousal pooled in your panties embarrassingly quick. it felt all too good, his deep strokes sent a tingling sensation throughout your whole body as he fucked into you with a steady pace. he knew exactly what you liked and what you needed to be kept at his whim. after all, you were his.

he could feel how your legs were trembling from his ministrations, it only pushed him to continue further. he lifted your leg up, and you swore you could see stars. the angle was perfect, his tip hitting your g-spot repeatedly with each thrust. you knew that you would not be able to last like this, and he knew that too.

“shit, armin, keep doing that,” it felt like you were losing your mind. you weren’t sure if it was because you were drunk, but your mind went blank. you wanted to let him have his way with you, after all, you deserved it right?

“should i?” he chuckled darkly as he brought his hands to your waist, gripping onto you as he thrusted hard. he held onto you as if his life depended on it, for sure to leave bruises later. it was so sloppy, you were so turned on by his sudden change in character. “are you gonna be a good girl?”

“yes — fuck, i’ll be your good girl, i’m a good girl,” you hiccup as you turn your head over to him. he looked so pretty like this, cheeks red as his hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat. he was usually more gentle, more caring when you had sex in the past, but this side of him, you wanted to see more of it. 

“you better be.” 

you placed your arm around his neck for support as the other held you against the wall while his arm held your leg in place and the other around your neck. he made sure not to hurt you, but the slight pressure made you squeeze down on him even tighter than before. 

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you choked out, it was too good, too much.

the familiar feeling sparked in your lower abdomen, you knew that it would be a matter of minutes, maybe even seconds before you came. armin was not far behind, you could feel him pulsating inside of you though his thrusts never faltered, he wanted to make you finish before him.

“yeah? you gonna cum?” he gritted through his teeth, you felt so good, the way you kept pulling him back in, the way your ass bounced against his thrusts. he wanted to tell you that how good you were being, how obedient you were, but you had to remember who you belonged to. "who's pussy is this? who do you belong to?"

"y — yours, armin, i'm all yours," you mewled as he began to pick up his pace, you couldn't do it. “oh, ‘m gonna, fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” you felt yourself tremble as he brought his hand that wasn’t occupied with your leg down to your clit, rubbing it in lazy circles that contradicted his deep and hard thrusts inside you. 

“do it, cum.” and with that, you felt your orgasm wash over you as you released on his cock. your whole body shook as armin continued to piston himself inside you, reaching his release. with a few more strokes, he came shortly after you did, reacting his head on your shoulder as he released himself inside you. 

you stayed up against the wall, trying to catch your breath as he pulled out of you gently, giving you a chaste kiss your shoulder before pulling his sweatpants up and handed you your panties. you turned around to face him shyly, embarrassed for your actions earlier that night. 

“now, when you go back out there, remember who’s cum's inside you, yeah?” he whispered darkly in to your ear as you slipped your panties back on. you nodded your head hastily and gave him a small smile to which he returned before taking his hand, making your way over to the door.

unbeknownst to the both of you, eren had left the party for a bit claiming that he had to use the bathroom but it wasn’t that. he leaned up against the wall that was shared with that bedroom, with his hands in his pants, panting as he eased himself out of his own release. 

armin’ll share, right?

© all content belongs to oblxvion 2021, do not repost or change.

[nakamoto-aesthetics]

Varsity Jacket | j.jh

synopsis: your highschool boyfriend has a reputation of not showing affection in public nor sharing his clothes with other girls so why was he doing those things with you?

pairing: boyfriend!jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: highschool!au, sexual themes with some fluff on the side

warning: lots of touching “you just gotta touch you know-”

word count: 2.2k

Part 1 | Part 2

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you open your locker and huff grabbing your heavy textbooks out of your locker. there was no reason for them to be this damn heavy at all. the books were only filled with a bunch of nonsense words and things you were never gonna use in the future.

if the books were filled with useful things then maybe you would let the heaviness of them slide by but for right now it was a definite no.

you grunt as the weight of the books gets heavier and heavier the more you pile on. you will never get used to the weight not then, not now, not ever.

“babe what the hell are you doing?” you whip your head around and see jaehyun walking toward you, his words bringing attention to the two of you but neither of you cared.

“what am I doing?” you asked once he was standing near you. he doesn’t say anything at first and instead takes the books out of your hand.

“carrying something heavy that’s what you're doing” he holds the books with one hand by his side. “take this instead” he hands you a jacket. you hold it up to look at it fully. eyes were staring at you two from all directions, all attention was on you. you could hear whispers from every direction but you didn’t feed into it.

‘jung 07’

“you want me to wear your varsity jacket?” you ask glancing up at him.

“yes now put it on; I want you to wear it the whole day,” he says and you take the sweater you were already wearing off, putting it in your locker. you put the large jacket on, immediately getting a whiff of his cologne and conditioner, it all smelt so good. you loved the way your boyfriend smelled. the jacket was huge on you, it swallowed you up making you look adorable in his eyes.

“that’s better, you look so adorable” he smiles lovingly. he puts your books down on the ground and your about to protest but he grabs your hand and pulls you into his chest. you squeal and he chuckles bringing you in for a kiss. your heart skipped a beat right then and there, his hands were already curling around your hips. your hands went straight to his silky brown hair. you loved to play in his hair, there was something about the way it moved and shined that acquired your attention. jae loved when you played in his hair too and he didn’t hide it either.

when he laid casually in between your thighs. sometimes you massaged his scalp with the pads of your fingers. every time you did it, it made him close his eyes and every last one of his muscles relax. you both would end staying in that position for an hour or two or until you got tired and when you did he switched places with you, ending with you in between his thighs. he would do the same thing to you but sometimes he would do a little more, putting your hair into different styles, a bun, ponytail, braids, etc.

yes, you taught him everything hair related so then he could do your hair when you didn’t feel like it. jaehyun has done your hair a substantial amount of times and he was good at doing it too, it looked as if you had done it when in actuality he did. other than that he loved to practice different hairstyles on your head and you loved that.

at this moment, jaehyuns open-mouthed kisses were making you hot in a good way; you wanted- no needed a fan. his hands traveled down to your ass and in no time he gave it a tight squeeze making you let out a throaty sound.

“baby not here” you breathily say against his lips.

“I know but I can’t help it” he grunted against your mouth and pushed you up against the locker. he pins your arms above your head with one hand and grabs your chin with the other. he moves your lips against his at a faster pace.

“jaehyun” you whine out softly making him grunt. you could feel his hard-on pressing into you by now. your heartbeat was pulsing in your ears and your legs felt like they were going weak. it got harder and harder to stand as the air got thinner and thinner.

and as if on cue he pulls away for air, breathing heavily looking at you with dark, heavy, and passionate eyes.

“we should go before we’re late” he looks at your lips and back at your eyes before stepping away to bend down and grab your textbooks. your hands slide down by your sides and you breathed heavily as you stood there trying to take in what just happened.

“babe come on” he laughed as if nothing had just happened. he grabs your hand with his free one, his other hand occupied by your heavy books.

you weren’t crazy, he acted as if he didn’t just make out with you in front of an audience. you looked around and everyone was staring at you, whispering. at least they let you know you weren’t crazy, that you weren’t just daydreaming. you looked away and continued down the hall not letting the multiple pairs of eyes affect you.

once you arrived at the classroom door jaehyun gave you your books carefully and kissed you.

“i’ll see you later princess” his thumb strokes your bottom lip and he smirks.

“see you later jae” you bite your lip at him and spin on your heel. he takes the opportunity to smack your ass as your walking into the classroom. “damn jaehyun” you yelp and look back at him. he’s looking you up and down while biting his lip and rubbing his hands together before ultimately walking away. your roll your eyes playfully and going to your seat.

as you sit down your friends were already staring at you. “what?” you look at them both.

“girl your dating the captain of the basketball team, you got him showing you affection in front of everyone and even giving you his jacket. that’s a real privilege right there” mira says.

“why is that?” you ask setting your stuff down.

“nobody has ever received that jacket before or gotten a kiss, ass slap, a single touch, nothing in public until now. you must be the one or something” seongyeon says making you chuckle.

“shut up” you laugh and that conversation ends there as the teacher starts the lesson. you couldn’t help but think about it. why did you get special treatment?

you and jaehyun had kept your relationship on the low for a while; nobody knew of your relationship up until 4 days ago. you and jaehyun have been dating for a year, you were surprised by how well you both kept it hidden. but since then the school hadn’t stopped staring at or stopped whispering about you two, it was because everyone was curious as to why they hadn’t figured it out earlier and because jaehyun had never shown PDA to the previous girls he’s dated. you were the first one so of course, it was a huge deal to the school.

it started with the hug and cheek kiss jaehyun gave you at the end of the day and then it slowly progressed to more PDA and that’s how people found out.

you received glares left and right when all the girls found out but you were prepared for it. jaehyun also told you in advance not to worry about it or pay any attention and that is exactly what you did.

today was the farthest he had gone through. with the whole make-out session and jacket exchange. we’re you that special?

once class was over you picked up the heavy books and walked to your next class. you couldn’t help but turn your head to look at the group of jaehyuns friends. there was mark lee, johnny such, lee donghyuck, lee taeyong, moon taeil, kim jungwoo, kim doyoung, nakamoto yuta, dong sicheng, and jung jaehyun. it was quite a large friend group. not all of them were athletes though, they were all known for different things;

mark lee - the sweet and talkative one

johnny suh - the chill and humorous one

lee donghyuck - the overdramatic and smart one

lee taeyong - the mom of the group and softie

moon taeil - the kind and talented musician

kim jungwoo - the unique and sincere one

kim doyoung - the kind-hearted and generous one

nakamoto yuta - the soccer player and super affection one

dong sicheng - the shy and overly adorable one

and last but not least;

jung jaehyun - the basketball player and compassionate but non-affectionate one

the whole friend group seemed super cool but not many people dared to mess with them, talk to them, anything. even though everyone knew they were all sweet. it was because they all looked intimidating as hell and if you mess with one of them you were gonna get the whole team. all 10 of them.

people have tried it before though. one time this guy picked on mark and even though mark could handle his battle, the guys weren’t having it… let’s just say that guy got his ass handed to him. from that point on nobody has ever tried to mess with any of them again.

right now they were all staring at you but for what reason? you didn’t know. jaehyun wasn’t standing with them so it only made it weirder. it wasn’t like they were glaring at you, they were just looking. you mentally shrug and look forward, making your way to class.

as you sit down in your seat, you're met with glares from multiple girls and you look away thinking that they will eventually stop looking but a few minutes later when you look up again they are still looking at you.

“is there a problem?” you speak up blinking your eyes multiple times at the two girls. this was the first time you said anything to anyone since everyone found out. you know jaehyun told you to ignore it but how could you when they were staring into your soul.

“you're dating jaehyun” one of the girls state.

“sweetie I’ve been dating him for a year now, what’s your point?” she looks taken aback by your answer but continues.

“that’s my man,” she says making you roll your eyes and sigh.

“are you sitting here bitching over some dumb ass shit like this?” you say calmly with a blank expression.

“yes-“

“im gonna stop you right there. see where you fucked up was when you stared me down, called him your man, and then said yes to that question. you made yourself look entirely stupid and now you're wasting my time and your time, so how about you do me and you a favor and stop worrying about me and jaehyun.” you said looking into her eyes the whole time, your tone was calmer than the ocean and a sunny day but you all knew underneath that was a blazing fire.

the girl looked shaken up but tried to hide it. her mouth opened and closed as she tried to find words to reply with but nothing came out. you waited for a few seconds but there was nothing said. her friend looked at her and shrugged.

“this conversation is over then,” you say and pull out your phone scrolling through instagram. ‘wow that felt so good’ you thought. it felt good to finally speak up and say something. now if only you could do that same thing with the whole school. you almost shuddered at the thought. that seemed like a nightmare but maybe with the power of jaehyun and his friends you could accomplish it.. that’s if they were willing to help you.

you’ve been around them a bunch of times, only exchanging “hellos” and ”byes” because you were too shy to hold a full conversation with them, plus they were intimidating. it was the way they stared at you all at once when you walk into the room. they always stared at you for a reason you didn’t know but you never asked jaehyun why you don’t even think he ever noticed it either-

the sound of the bell knocks you out of your thoughts and you stand up, gathering your stuff. it was lunchtime, the time you got to eat and see jaehyun at the same time. it was a win-win situation. when you walk over the door you head to your locker and place the heavy books in it. the second part of the day was the best because you didn’t have to carry anything, all of the things you needed were already in the classrooms.

you close your locker and headed to the cafeteria to see your man.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

NCT Masterlist

[peaches-writes]

penalty kick

description: maybe you got off on the wrong foot...actually, jisung did actually pushed you off the wrong foot.  member: jisung / han  genre: fluff, slice of life, coming of age, childhood frenemies / rivals to lovers au, idiots to lovers au, neighbor au, high school au, college au, lil dashes of soccer baseball musician & campus dj au bc jisung ace, female reader, off-season universe (mc from naturally is jeoyeon, mc from tumbles & turns is bora, and mc from off-season is kira hek)  word count: 12k warnings: explicit language, alcohol (a tiny mention of underage drinking pls drink responsibly!), mentions of injuries, jisung issa lil dumb & a lil shit but issokay hes an adorable lil shit note: @crscendoforsung so i scraped the witch jisung au (but i’ll come back to it in the future maybe it’s still in my drafts lol) so here is dumbass jisung for now + im away on christmas day so here’s my gift a day in advanced lmao

Age four. Your neighbor and favorite playmate, Han Jisung, pushed you so hard on the swings at your neighbourhood playground that you literally flew out of your plastic curved seat and bruised your knees, elbows, and chin. 

Maybe you did had it coming from continuously complaining that he ‘pushed like a sissy’ and even standing up on the swing set just to brag that you can balance all of your body weight on such flimsy material. Maybe your neighbor has always had a secret grudge on you finally enacted through this incident. Either way, the next thing you knew, a wide-eyed Jisung was on your side alternating between calling for adult help, crying over your bruises, and muttering curses he probably heard from his older brother under his breath. 

“Shit, shit shit...” He squeaked out frantically in his tiny voice, gently moving you to a sitting position on the stone pavement and dusting the dirt off of your bleeding injuries despite your loud complaints that your entire body was hurting. Looking around your surroundings, his breath then got caught up in his throat at seeing your mother fast-approaching with a mix of furious and worried in her expression. “Auntie! Help!” 

Your mother was hovering over you in an instant, examining your bruises with furrowed brows and clenched teeth. “Ah, dear God, what happened here?!” She exclaimed in a scolding tone, piercing gaze darting between your tearful eyes and Jisung’s panicked ones. “Jisung, did you do this?” 

“It was an accident auntie!” The boy in question answered immediately as he shook his head nervously and scooted away with his hands up in defense. “It was an accident, I promise!” 

However, with your back turned to him then, you naturally had a different impression of the incident as you quickly retorted, “He pushed me, mommy! He pushed me off of the swing!” 

Your mother never made any clear indication that she believed you as she simply shook your head and lifted you by your shoulders and knees, carrying you to a nearby bench to treat your wounds. 

Angered by your outburst, Jisung reluctantly followed you and your mother to the bench then glared at you until your injuries were cleaned and bandaged. With his arms crossed and a permanent frown bordering a pout on his lips, he stood next to you in his attempt at looking visibly angry for a puny five-year-old while you hissed and whined in pain the entire time. 

What’s worse is that his own mother made him apologize by sending him off to the nearest convenience store to buy you apple juice and steamed buns. Because of this, you’ve been mortal enemies, rivals, each other’s designated future potential killer, whatever you want to call it ever since.

Age seven. Han Jisung helped perpetuate a wild rumour that you and the rest of the class’ female population had ‘cooties.’ 

It’s only natural for boys at this age to gravitate to similar actions, of course. After all, you’ve heard worse from boys in the other classes (read: Hwang Hyunjin crying and demanding to get sent home because a girl kissed him on the cheek on the first day of classes). It’s the fact that Jisung actually seemed to have to believed it for a brief period of time in your first grade, however, that completely threw you off. 

He pulled on your braids during the time he sat behind you and kicked your shins while in line for P.E. class to ‘test your anger patience’ that was apparently fueled by cooties and occasionally stole your snacks for actual ‘DNA evidence’ of said cooties among other petty little things. It was nothing short of annoying and the very bane of your existence then. 

“Han Jisung cut it out!” You yelled at him one day, hitting him on the shoulder with the curved end of your wooden broom during after-class cleaning time. In this particular incident, the boy managed to swiftly take one of your pigtails out while wiping the windows in an attempt to ‘examine’ the DNA in your hair. 

“What?!” He snickered, taking a big step away from you and lifting up the blue scrunchie to examine it for miniscule strands of loose hair. “It’s for research!” 

You groaned in annoyance, reaching forward to retrieve the scrunchie with one hand while the other instinctively ran through the messed up half of your hair. “Jisung, give it back, you weirdo!” You scolded through gritted teeth, rolling your eyes when he shakes his head stubbornly and takes another step back from your reach. 

“Tell me the secret first!” 

“Secret of what?!” 

“Do you girls actually have cooties?” He quirked a genuinely suspicious eyebrow at you, raising the scrunchie above your heads after when you proceed lunge forward at him. “Does it actually make you guys this irritable all the time?” 

Somehow, the questions struck some kind of nerve in you. You were tired from classes, cleaning, and having to put up with Jisung’s childish antics. Maybe 1st grade girls did have cooties but for tapping into unbridled anger. “I’m going to kill you!” With the broom in your hands and the dust pan you snatched from his in retaliation, you then proceeded on repeatedly hitting Jisung in the forearms and shoulders until he surrendered with his arms protectively over his head and your scrunchie finally within reach. 

He also offered to fix your pigtail back for you but given the amount of distrust you already had for him, you simply smacked him one last time and went to the other end of the room to fix your hair. 

Age nine. Maturing a little bit through summer camps and classes, you and Jisung redirected all of your energy from physical violence to outsmarting each other in class. 

It started in English class when Mrs. Lee introduced the idea of recitations garnering students points and a fancy award at the end of the school year. Coming from the same piano class in the summer prior wherein you and Jisung also competed for your instructor’s attention, the two of you were quick to consider this as another one of your competitions. 

You devoted most of your time to studying the lesson from the what’s, who’s, when’s, and where’s while Jisung thought that focusing more on the deeper why’s and how’s would somehow garner him better points no matter how many times Mrs. Lee reiterated that all recitation points are given in 1 point’s. 

As the school year progressed, especially after the first semester report cards came out and the two of you were tied to first place in English to the very third decimal, the academic rivalry immediately extended to competing for the most amount of extra-curricular activities. You were more favored with the way you handled baby animals at the local shelter and competed in debates and quiz bees while Jisung was mainly noticed by the soccer and baseball coaches and the school choir’s moderator for his skills in sports and music. 

Jisung’s mom, who always picked the two of you up from school in her minivan, obliviously thought it was cute. 

“You know, instead of competing over everything all the time, you guys can take some notes from each other.” She pointed out one time after hearing your comment on Jisung ‘smelling like a polluted Pacific Ocean’ as he climbed in the backseat of the car. The sentiment almost went in one ear and came out of the other with the two of you, however, as Jisung proceeded on complaining that you smelled like ‘Cruella de Vil’s fake fur coat’ then hitting you on the head with his soccer ball. “Especially you, Sungie. You can learn a thing or two of keeping a goldfish alive for more than a week from Y/N.” 

You laughed at Jisung’s immediate shocked reaction of wide eyes and gaping mouth at this, slapping his arm in amusement and toppling over the backseat in laughter. “Yeah, Sungie, you really need help from that department.” You stuck your tongue out at him teasingly, laughing even more when he groans and hits you back with a light punch to your own arm. 

“Stop it.” He hissed at you before turning to his mother again, meeting her gaze through the rear view mirror. “Mom! You’re supposed to be on my side!” 

Mrs. Han was also stifling her own laughs then, forcing herself to focus on the road ahead instead of checking for her son’s pouting expression and crossed arms through the mirror. “Okay, okay.” She chuckled playfully with a dismissive hand, catching your eye after with a giggle. “Y/N, you should learn how to commit to exercise more with Jisung, then. There? Happy?” 

Satisfied, Jisung stuck his tongue out childishly at you as if completely forgetting the fact that he was attacked by his own mother first. “Bleh!” 

You rolled your eyes at him with a light-hearted scoff of your own, laughing away the way he proceeded to exaggeratedly tease you. “You’re so childish, Sung.” 

When your moms did seriously consider this idea later on, you were then forced to dedicated one weekend to taking each other to your respective extra-curricular activities. It was right before your final examinations and Jisung ended up getting scared over a golden retriever giving birth while you received severe cramps from the elementary soccer team’s rigorous conditioning training. 

It was a recipe of disaster, basically, and it ultimately led you and Jisung to cram knowledge for your exams on Sunday night in his bedroom. When you stubbornly didn’t learn anything from going to each other’s favorite extra-curriculars, you unconsciously ended up learning from each other in the six hours you both stayed up trying to review your notes. Miraculously (as in the miracle of hot brewed Milo-induced sugar rushes), it went well and the two of you tied or were close in grades at the second release of report cards.  

The only downside of it all was just the fact that the fancy recitation award in your English class that started it all somehow went to Hyunjin. 

“Ah, this is so frustrating!” You exclaimed on the ride home from school. You had your report card in your hands like Jisung, looking back on it all the while stressing out about Hyunjin winning the award the two of you spent a whole school year competing for. 

On the other side of his mom’s backseats, Jisung then turned to you and suggested, “Want to prank him? We’re playing soccer next week, you can swap his Cola for soy sauce.” 

You glanced over at Jisung, your pout slowly turning into a mischievous grin at his raised brows. “You’re onto something...” 

Age ten. You went on your first class field trip with a stuffed purple lunch bag of snacks.

Your mother specifically suggested that you share it with Jisung, thinking that the two of you would sit next to each other on the bus since he’s your only classmate she’s actually familiar with. But of course, when Jisung didn’t bring up any hints that he knew of this while waiting for the school bus to arrive, you immediately thought against it and planned out how you were going to hide your seemingly endless supply of snacks from him on the back-and-forth rides to Namsan Tower.

It was a well thought-out plan involving sitting near to the front and as far away from him as possible with your own group of friends then hiding the lunch bag under your seat until you caught Hyunjin not-so-discreetly trying to steal from you while he re-checked attendance after a stop-over.

“Jisung put you up to this, didn’t he?” You frowned, candy successfully retrieved from Hyunjin’s prying hands and popped into your mouth as the lanky boy scratched the back of his head in shame. “It’s okay, Hyunjin, I won’t kill you. It’s Jisung’s corpse I’m planning to roll down Namsan if he’s actually behind this.”

After a few more coaxing, Hyunjin eventually nodded sheepishly and admitted to Jisung convincing him to take a candy bar from you.

“Ya! Hyunjin!” Jisung whined from across the bus, peeking his head up from the identical red seats with balled up fists. “I told you not to rat me out!”

“Y/N was being scary!” Hyunjin argues back, sprinting back to his seat as soon as the the bus stopped at a streetlight. Hiding under the sea of seats, he then exclaimed, “You two take me out of your fights! Geez!”

Jisung pouted at you as soon as you lifted your own head up from your seat and turned around to face him, holding his hands out in front of him and then asking, “Can’t I really have candy?”

You shook your head stubbornly. “If I give you one, everyone’s going to ask me for it too.”

“But everyone’s basically asleep!”

“They could be fake-sleeping for all I know!” You hissed, popping another ball of candy in your mouth. “I don’t trust anyone in this class with food but myself.” 

“Y/N!” He whined, only to get pulled down by force when the bus abruptly begins moving again. Scrambling up right after, he then continued pleading, “Please?”

“No.” You firmly concluded, sitting back down on your seat. 

Jisung even tried staying behind to try and steal candy off of you while the entire class was piling outside to enter Namsan Tower, only to trip in surprise when you jumped on him from crouching under the seats. Poor boy almost hit his head on the seats in shock.

“I knew you’d pull this kind of shit.” You tsked in disapproval with a slight stutter towards cursing at such an age, smacking him over the head anyway before throwing the smallest piece of chocolate candy you had from your bag. Moving past him to the bus exit, you then added, “You don’t even do nice things for me.”

You only meant it half-heartedly, though. Whether Jisung actually wanted more candy or he did sincerely felt bad over what you said, either way, he paid for the expensive pink lock you and your friend wanted to hang at the very top of the tower later on but only if you promised to share your snacks.

Jisung received three packets of gummy bears and a bottle of banana milk from you in the end on the ride home.

Age twelve. The Hans temporarily moved to Malaysia in the summer before the seventh grade because of an assignment for Jisung’s father at work.

On the day before their flight, Mr. and Mrs. Han organized a farewell party in their house at the other end of the block and invited your entire class. Jisung tricked you into getting him a farewell present by telling you that everyone was planning to do the same thing as a surprise but he secretly found out thing.

He didn’t actually expect you to get him something, not with the way the two of you have always been at each other’s necks since you were kids, but you ended up surprising him in the middle of the lunch party by giving him a small notebook of useful Malaysian phrases you wrote down yourself. You don’t always agree with Jisung but you think of yourself as thoughtful and civil enough to buy something practical. Also, your parents insisted. 

“O-Oh, you actually got me something?” He fumbled through an intense blush that matched the redness of his Supreme cap, almost tripping over nothing as you both stood on the steps leading down to the back of his house. It didn’t help that a few classmate passersby were glancing your way as well, either cooing or snickering at the awkward sight in the corner of all the socialization. “L-Like—like, this is actually for me?”

You raised a brow in confusion and reluctantly shrugged, releasing the red phrasebook from your grip as he held onto it by the other end. “Yeah, you said you’re getting presents so I...got you one.”

“I actually lied—“

“What?!” You exclaimed a little too loudly for your taste, earning you a sharp glare from your mother all the way across the backyard. Mouthing a quick apology to your her, you then quickly averted your glare back to Jisung who instinctively resorted to looking at anywhere but you. “But you said—“

“I thought for sure that no one would give me any farewell presents since it’s not a birthday or anything but I know you would if you’re like forced to or something so I thought...hehe...” He mustered up a sheepish grin, pressing his index fingers together in a comical shy gesture. When your glare intensifies, he then immediately held his hands up in defense and visibly winced, “Ya, don’t hit me!”

Every fiber in your being really wanted to hit him with the notebook then, maybe even push him down the stairs while no one was looking, but after a moment of thinking your way out of such violent thoughts, you resorted to exhaling a sigh and saying, “Whatever, just keep the notebook or something. I don’t care. It’s not expensive, anyway.”

You chanted to yourself that you’re mature, especially as Jisung’s eyes lit up and he immediately thanked you for both the gift and sparing his life that day.

Though he didn’t hear the end of the other teasing from Hyunjin after that, Jisung kept the notebook around anyway throughout his entire two-year stay in Malaysia. It was helpful but he’ll never admit that to your face.

“You kept it.” You pointed out one day, more as a statement than a question as you realized that the notebook he was using for exam reviewer notes was in the same color as the phrasebook you gave him. When Jisung came back in the summer before the ninth grade, the two of you met again in the same cram school wherein mostly everyone but you and the transfer student, Kim Seungmin, refused to help him keep up with the heavier than usual workload. “The phrasebook...”

“Yeah—well, I didn’t want to waste any of the pages you didn’t write on.” He pouted stubbornly as he flipped through the older pages to compare the amount of pages you used to the empty sheets. His tone actually sounded like he was convincing himself much more than he was trying with you but you missed it complete in the moment. “Be more eco-friendly, Y/N.”

You simply rolled your eyes at him. “Glad to know I kept you alive in another country somehow, then.”

Age fourteen. You went to a soccer game to see Jisung but only because one of your friends, Eunha, developed a crush on the striker and eventually hatched a plan to confess on the game before Valentine’s Day. Fortunately, Jisung barely noticed and didn’t tease you for it since it’s already an established fact that you’re always at his games with either Yang Jeongin or Seungmin to cheer on Hyunjin instead.

You really didn’t get it. Of course, fifteen was the time when some, if not all, parts of your day were starting to become dedicated to vanity and all the artificial things in life to attract kind of puppy love in school but at this point Jisung always wore the same green hoodie, red Supreme cap, and white ‘Eyez on You’ shirt to every school function that didn’t require wearing a uniform.

You understood how your classmates suddenly began fawning over Hyunjin right after the summer when he got his braces removed and then Seungmin for bringing a suit and tie one time for an inter-school debate but the hype over Jisung suddenly bringing in his guitar to class breaks everyday and re-emerging as a star soccer and baseball player throughout the school year is an absolute mystery to you. That or, maybe compared to your junior high peers, you’re just as used to him at this point than they all are. In your perspective, the only legitimate thing he has going on is how he always seems to beat you in most Arts subjects and how annoying it is that he always makes sure to rub that in your face. 

“I’m pretty sure he still doesn’t shower properly right after training.” You shook your head disapprovingly at Eunha during the game. Soccer is an interesting sport for surprisingly bringing you up to stand and cheer at some moments, you’ll give it that, but watching Jisung get cocky and interact to the crowd whenever his team scored a point was somehow cringe-worthy to watch. “And I’m so sure he still doesn’t clean that soccer ball of his right after practice. You deserve better, sis.”

But no matter how much you talked shit about him throughout the entire game, Eunha still held onto the box of handmade candies she coerced you into picking up from Jisung’s favorite candy shop on the weekend prior and cheering him on with the slogan she made herself. It would’ve looked cute and sweet to you if it was some other guy but it’s Jisung—the guy who pushed you off a swing, pulled your hair, stole candy from you, and made all of your elementary after-school rides home an actual rollercoaster—and you would never wish his treatment of you to any other person ever.

“You said that was in elementary, Y/N.” Eunha chuckled softly, nudging your elbow before a sour expression could completely overtake your face. “Surely he’s outgrown that girls have cooties phase every boy had then.”

“No, it’s Jisung and I refuse to believe it.”

You really didn’t want to believe it with your natural instinct to see Jisung as the bane of your existence. What’s worse is that Eunha was right and Jisung shyly accepted the Saturday movie date at the mall that she came up with on the spot when he surprisingly received the candies well, a complete stretch from the Jisung who would’ve lied about being busy or tricked your friend into doing something else altogether. Suddenly, it was selfishly annoying that you’re the only one he actually tortures the life out of.

“Told you.” Eunha giggled throughout the drive back to your house. Your mother picked you up from school right after the soccer game for a sleepover you insisted was a must whether or not your friend scored her Valentine’s Day date. “Ah, I’m glad he accepted. I was a nervous wreck there! You don’t happen to know what kind of movie he likes, do you?”

You never heard the end of it from her for the remainder of the semester. The two were never official—middle school just didn’t have that solid idea of significant others, then—but they did went on numerous ‘dates’ almost every weekend that followed Valentine’s Day. Naturally, Eunha would tell you all about it. 

“He’s so sweet and caring and thoughtful!” The girl endlessly gushed out to you so genuinely you would’ve been happy had you not been sincerely expecting a major fuck-up from Jisung. Nothing romantic really did come out of these dates, even Jisung surprisingly swears by it, but they did become really close friends after and as Jisung’s only other female friend at the time, you can clearly see a point of comparison between his different treatment of you. “Though, I’m gonna give it to you that he is annoying sometimes but he does know a lot of good places to hang out around town for someone who’s been away for two years!” 

“He does the bare minimum for everything, Eunha. I could barely call it sweet.” You scoffed unamused. 

Age sixteen. In the summer after the tenth grade, an upperclassman from school by the name of Lee Minho started volunteering at the same local shelter you’ve been under since elementary after surrendering a lost cat to you while he and Jisung were playing baseball at the nearby park. 

He adopted Dori in the end but prior to finalizing the adoption papers, he actually made the effort to come in at your MWF schedule to help around and see the dark grey kitten. To you, it was endearing and thoughtful since you didn’t have much active co-workers at the shelter your age but to Jisung, it was slightly inconveniencing how Minho would cut off their play-time to see the cat. He even thought Minho had a crush on you and vice versa but you knew that Minho liked one of his own closer friends. 

“Jeoyeon?” Minho scoffed, crouching down next to you one time as you watched over the new litterbox of kittens eating with Dori on your feet. Crossing his arms over his knees, he shook his head and chuckled, “They’re cool and we’ve been friends for a long time but I’m sure they have a big fat crush on Bang Chan. Something happened after their McDonald’s date after our prom, I’m telling you!” 

“No, not Jeoyeon! I meant Bora!” You argued back with a laugh, picking up a white kitten that wanders off to your feet and lifts its body up cutely for a lift. Gingerly pressing the kitten to your shoulder, you then turned to Minho and continued, “The one who came by the other day to see Dori with you. Aren’t you guys rooming together in college?” 

Minho clutched his chest dramatically at this, shaking his head with a comical conviction. “What?! How could you accuse me of that, Y/N? Bora’s from a different cheerdance team! That would be like sleeping with the enemy!” 

You rolled your eyes, knocking him off of his balance by elbowing his sides. “Ya, I didn’t say that, you did!” You scoffed at him, sighing when he laughs off landing on his butt before sitting up in a crisscross position. “Anyway, don’t you like her?” 

“If I don’t like her, we wouldn’t be making all these plans to move in together for college, stupid.” Minho snickered, earning him another elbow jab from you. “Well, what do you want me to say? You asked me if I like her, you didn’t ask me how exactly I like her.” 

"Okay then, you wise wise person: how do you like Bora?” You sighed dryly, plopping down on the ground at feeling your ankles starting to ache from crouching. The kitten on your arm then jumped down to your lap, circling your legs a few times before finding a comfortable position to sleep in. “You know, the more you visit here with this kind of sarcasm, the more I’m starting to understand where Seungmin and Jisung are suddenly getting all of their newfound sassiness from.” 

Minho chuckled next to you, picking up Dori for himself once he saw him finish eating before hugging the kitten gently to his cheek. “Bora’s...someone I’d probably punch a guy in the team for if they ever disrespect her. I mean, I’d punch a guy for Dahyun, Jeoyeon, and Jihyo, too, of course, but Bora’s in the same sport where she’s always getting lifted in the air and touched by who knows who and now that we won’t be in the same team, I feel even more responsible for keeping an eye out for her.” He shrugged casually, ignoring the way your jaw just dropped at how naturally he explained himself. “Plus, it took a lot of convincing to get her to be my roommate so I can’t really have her dying under my care in the next four years.” 

“I—” You furrowed your brows in thought, pursing your lips in a pout. “Wow, I’m jealous.” 

“Then get on my good side, Y/N.” Minho winked with a laugh, holding Dori in front of you. “Let me take this baby home at the end of the summer.” 

You rolled your eyes again at this, shaking your head. “No, I mean...I hang out with Jeongin, Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jisung and they aren’t really the most well-versed boys on treating girls properly.” 

“That’s why you hang out with me. We all know that Hyunjin just can’t say no to anyone who offers him a slightly more expensive bouquet of flowers, Seungmin’s in a relationship with baseball and academics, and Jisung...Jisung’s just dumb in general.” Minho then pointed out with a somehow knowing tone, smirking when a familiar figure passes by the hallways right behind you. “Speaking of...” 

Jisung joined you and Minho after, making sure to sit in between the two of you and drowning himself in as many kittens who wanted to sit on his lap as much as he can. “Dude, you shouldn’t have left early!” He scolded Minho with a pout and a slightly breathless tone from running all the way from the park. “Seungmin joined us today and he completely wiped out Sunwoo’s team!” 

“Then even more reasons to come here early so you guys could play with Seungmin on your team.” Minho laughed, gently handing Dori over to you from across Jisung before standing up and dusting the lint off of his jeans. “Y/N needed help with feeding the cats and puppies today, anyway.” 

Jisung frowned, turning to you after and asking, “Don’t you have any other co-workers around here?”

“Jeno has allergies so I don’t let him in here on most days.” You shrugged, handing Minho the empty pet bowls nearest to you as he proceeded to clean and collect them. “I can do it myself, you know. It’s just that Minho comes over and insists.” 

“Then you should’ve just told him that so we can play longer.” 

“Why is it a big deal? Do you like Minho?” 

“Do you?” Jisung’s eyes widened, almost getting scratched by a random cat in the process. “Because...because that’d be gross, to be honest...”

At this moment, your eyes accidentally met Minho’s right behind Jisung and the older boy had the audacity to wink at you before sprinting out of the room with a thumbs up above his head. 

In the end, you shrugged and answered, “I like him.” 

“What?!” Jisung sat up so quickly he almost scared a bunch of kittens walking all over his chest into jumping away.

“I’d be a psychopath if I don’t like him but let him volunteer around here, dumbass.” You deadpanned, moving the kittens around him to a safer space on the floor. “Besides, you asked me if I like him, not how I like him.” 

“What the fuck does that even mean?” 

Minho had a whole laugh out of eavesdropping from this conversation that he felt bad and actually adjusted his schedule for volunteering and playing soccer better so ‘Jisung would have one less thing to whine about all the time.’ 

Age seventeen. You and Jisung tried convincing your respective parents that going to prom as a group is the more practical and actually trendy thing to do but your mothers wouldn’t have it. Ultimately, the two of you ended up lying that you’re going as each other’s dates. 

You initially planned on begging to Seungmin until he pulled up balloons, roses, and a song number to his lab partner right on the lunch break that you planned on doing it and, of course, you had enough dignity to not fall in line with the countless of students that basically worshipped Hyunjin’s locker as if it were a shrine. 

Jisung, with Eunha already set on going with someone else she started dating at the beginning of the 11th grade school year, was the convenient choice. Your parents knew each other, he knows someone (his older brother) who can drive, and he’s recently gotten over his Emo-Hypebeast wardrobe phase after joining the school’s radio club with Chan and Changbin. With some convincing (read: an elaborate PowerPoint Presentation he made you do on the spot during one of your lunch breaks), the two of you decided that you would take all the photos your respective mothers wanted, carpool to the hotel, then go on your separate ways until his brother picks the two of you up at the end of the night. 

It was a simple and fool-proof plan, one that you almost forgot when you rented an emerald green and gold prom attire then Jisung’s mother told you right after about hearing her son trying to order a purple callalily boutonniere that clearly did not match your taste nor your colors (you sorted this out by cancelling the order and taking matters into your own hands). Then, the most awkward photo op at your house happened. 

“Sungie, put your arm around Y/N!” 

“Y/N, stop slouching, you’re going to wrinkle your outfit!” 

You were never serious-looking in any photos that had Jisung in it as well, preferring to pose like the two of you planned on murdering each other right after the photos instead, but your respective moms were holding your Instax camera and the family film cameras across the living room in this particular situation and so you reluctantly kept it inside. Straightening up your shoulders and elbowing Jisung to at least wrap an arm over your shoulder, you held up smiles right next to your red rose corsage and boutonniere set until the two women were eventually satisfied with their photos. 

“Aah, you two really make a cute couple!”

“Mom, we’re not a couple!” Jisung whined, glaring at you after which you immediately returned with the same expression.

“God, I’d sell all my limbs first before we actually become a couple.” You deadpanned back at him.

Fortunately, Jisung’s older brother allowed the two of you to basically try and throw each other out of the car windows on the thirty-minute ride to the hotel venue in compensation. You almost had him by the neck and he almost ruined your hair that you spent hours curling until Hyunjin pulled you back with a smack to your head and dragged the two of you away to help in the Prom Committee’s final preparations since Jisung was going to perform with Changbin and you were a part of the Prom’s Logistics team. 

You mostly stayed out of each other’s hairs for most of the first part of the program as you were busy pulling everything together while Jisung was having the time of his life with the soccer and basebal teams. The next time you bumped into each other, you scolded him for running late to his and Changbin’s set after dinner. 

“Where were you?!” You mostly hit him in the back with your clipboard, frantically passing him his already set up electric guitar and a microphone. First, one of your peers got drunk too early in the dinner to help out in the program, then one of the event’s award sashes briefly went missing and, not to mention, a lot of the people from the other committees somehow forgot about their event tasks when you asked in the main groupchat. You really weren’t having anyone’s antics at this point. “Geez, we already practiced this!” 

“Ow, ow, ow! Stop hitting me! Why are you so on edge?” Appropriately, he whined in complaint and took a step back after receiving his equipment, holding his hands up in defense as he always does. “Cut me some slack, Y/N! It’s prom!” 

“You’re so late when your table is literally right next to the side of the stage!” 

“I was dancing with everyone else! You wouldn’t know since you wouldn’t even take a break!” 

“Because I’m busy!” 

“No, you’re just being more irritable than usual!” 

“Fuck you, Han Jisung.” You rolled your eyes with an exasperated sigh, coldly directing him to the stage. “You’re on, get on the stage.” 

You knew he didn’t mean it cruelly, especially when his pupils started to shake and his shoulders instinctively slumped as he glanced back at you right before reluctantly stepping up the star-filled stage, but you were too tired of having to run around and making the event perfect for most of the night to process anything, much less his usual jabs at you. Being in such a tired headspace, you couldn’t enjoy his songs no matter how undeniably great they were, much less meet his eyes when you knew how he kept glancing at you throughout the entire set. 

He even covered your favorite song on the spot (which surprised Changbin and had Hyunjin running around backstage to inform everyone of the sudden extension) but you already sat down on your shared table with Hyunjin, Seungmin, Eunha, and their dates before he could even begin singing the chorus.  

“Hey, you good?” Minjung, Eunha’s date, asked you with an offering of an extra shawl to cover your exposed shoulders from the nearby air-conditioning unit. Eunha had previously left to go to the bathroom after stopping by your shared table. “Y/N, I told you if you needed extra help with the program, you could’ve just told us. We just planned on dancing tonight, anyway.” 

“I’m good.” You grumbled in a half-lie, resting your chin on your propped up hand tiredly, mumbling a small ‘thank you’ for the shawl as you fought away your tiredness. “I think I’ll just sit the rest of Prom out. Hyunjin can run the program on his own.” 

Minjung frowned, sitting down next to you and fixing the loose strands on the haphazard ponytail you managed to pull up in the middle of the program. “Are you sure? Eunha and I can stay with you until you’re feeling better. Besides, the program’s still long, you deserve to enjoy your hard work later at least.” 

Stubbornly, you simply scrunched up your nose and shook your head. “I think I’ve had enough of prom for one night. You should go and dance more, though. I’m okay as long as you guys are having fun.” 

But equally as headstrong as you are, Minjung got Eunha in on convincing you to agreeing to one dance with them as soon as she came back from the bathroom, reasoning out that, “We can stay in the back and just dance silly! It’s prom!” 

The pair proved themselves to be unstoppable in their joint persuasiveness when they got you to stand up and actually join them at the next set, right as Jisung was about to approach you to apologize. The poor boy ended up waiting the entire night until the two of you were alone instead, shivering right next to each other at the lobby while waiting for his brother to pick you two up. 

“Why did you even pick out something off-shoulder? I get that it’s trendy these days but you picked the venue knowing it’s cold and didn’t even connect a few dots there.” He hissed lowly, contemplating on teasing you further or keeping it quiet until he can muster up a ‘sorry’ to you. Shrugging off his jacket, he then gently draped it over your shoulder and added, “Don’t catch a cold or something...your mom’s going to kill me.” 

“Shut up.” You hissed back, crossing your arms further in over your chest as you spotted his brother’s car approaching the lobby’s driveway. You didn’t remove his coat from your back, though, clutching it tightly instead while convincing yourself that he willingly gave it to you so there’s no reason for you to throw it back at him when you really needed it. “ You don’t even do nice things for me.”

The familiar words visibly caught him off-guard, almost foiling his plan of opening the door for you as he freezes in his steps but he regains composure in time and almost trips ahead to swat your hand away from the car’s door handle. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled in the awkward silence, gulping down his fears of your death glare as he briefly averted his gaze away from you. With this, he missed the way your gaze softened. “There’s candies in the pockets.”

And there was, coincidentally enough the same brand he tried stealing from you on your school field trip.

“These aren’t expired, right?” You chuckled, popping a chocolate in your mouth anyway. 

That was enough for Jisung to relax his shoulders and laugh along. “No, promise.” He held a hand up as if he was swearing by his words, easing you into another fit of laughs. “I ran all the way to the convenience store down the block to get you those tonight! I felt really bad...I didn’t mean it.”

He could be sweet if he wanted, you’d give him that. 

“I’m sorry too.” You whispered to him at the end of the night, right after scoffing at him for insisting to walk you all the way to your doorstep of course. “I was so stressed with managing everything that I took it out on you.” 

Standing awkwardly with you right in front of your house’s front door, the sheepish boy rubbed the nape of his neck and shrugged. “Nah, I think I deserve it. I do annoy you a lot, don’t I?” He chuckled, eyes trained to the ground. “I didn’t even ask you to one dance.” 

“Not like you actually had to, we’re no—” 

“But you were still technically my date and I don’t want to be a bad prom date, even to you!” He insisted anyway, only then looking up at you. “I’ll make it up to you in the distant future, okay? Reserve me your next dance in the distant future, no matter where it is!”  

Before you could even retort, he was already running back to his brother’s car. 

Age eighteen and a half. Jisung began dating a girl named Haneul whom he met in one of his general classes and didn’t have one single clue about baseball or soccer. Naturally, his entire friend group was concerned. 

Though you’re much civil friends now, you still didn’t really care. Or maybe you didn’t want to out of spite (or a really really weird and displaced feeling of jealousy?), you weren’t sure. You just thought that Jisung can do whatever he wants even when it’s something that’s generally not advisable when you’re a freshman in college, but it seemed as if it was all Jeongin talked to you about whenever the two of you met up to study for one of your shared classes so naturally you forced yourself to take in all of the gossip. What’s worse is that Hyunjin would come over often to loiter around the library and gawk at the cute student librarian, ultimately encouraging the younger boy to talk about it more. 

“You’re being unfair to her.” You always reminded the two, sometimes Seungmin when he would sit quietly in the middle of the topic and say nothing to defend Haneul. In this particular time, Jeongin took you to watch the baseball team’s Wednesday scrimmage after hours of studying your nursing notes together at the nearby library. “Like, look, I don’t even do any sports myself but you guys hang out with me.” 

“But you’re different, you’re not dating any one of us.” Hyunjin snickered, hugging his helmet to his chest as he sat a step below you on the bleaches. When a thought then crossed his mind, he dramatically gasped over his gloves and added, “Wait, does that mean you have a crush on someone? Is it me?” 

You smacked him in the head with your hand, rolling your eyes after. “You know what I mean.” 

Next to you, Jeongin mustered up a shrug as he tried getting an injured Kira to sit back down on her seat. Your stubborn best friend, after playing at an underground derby game on the weekend prior, kept on moving around because sitting down with her injuries made her uncomfortable. “But at least you make an effort for us even if it’s just small.” He reasoned out, huffing tiredly when Kira finally sits down and promises not to move for the next five minutes. You would’ve helped him but personally you thought he deserved to suffer alone after letting her go out despite her injuries today. “Haneul got dragged by Jisung to watch last week’s scrimmage and didn’t even last a set. She just left in the middle of the game—literally!”

“He made Jisung skip on my derby game to too!” Kira pouted, waving her bandaged hands frantically in the air. “I’m personally offended, Y/N!”

“And she doesn’t seem to like talking to us in general.” Hyunjin shrugged in conclusion. “Like, sports aside, she’s a bit rude and nonchalant when she talks to us in general especially when Sung isn’t around. It’s a bit sus to me.” 

“To be fair, Kira, I wouldn’t be going too if you and Yeji aren’t so insistent on it. It’s so worrying seeing the two of you get hurt.” You pointed out before averting your attention to Jeongin once more. “And Jeongin, you know the only reason I can’t leave baseball and soccer games these days is because you and Seungmin are usually my ride home.” You scoffed. “If I could, I’d be hanging out with Felix more and only going to Kira’s games. Ya, why is he even allowed to skip games and I’m not, anyway?”

“Because he’s taking classes and training with the cheerdance squad until 8 PM and as far as I’m concerned, you’re free after 12 noon like me!” Jeongin simply grinned at you, earning himself a glare. “Also, I need you here with me as the medic team. You know I’ll panic alone!” 

Fortunately, no one ever actually gets injured at any of the games regardless if they were formal or not. By the time the game has finished, you were reminding Kira to rest more at her dorms and sprinting out of the baseball field to the samgyeopsal place the team promised to treating dinner at. You completely missed the boys’ conversation on Haneul in the process but you did get free food.

You really didn’t get it. The one time you met Haneul by chance, when you and Felix bumped into the two at the mall near the supermarket, she seemed a bit distant but she could be polite when she wanted to. Of course, it rubbed you the wrong way but you and Felix thought that it was none of your business anyway, given that neither of you are dating her. 

“When the guys walked me out of the baseball field last Wednesday, they did mention something about Jisung aiming for the soccer national team but who knows if they’re exaggerating again or something.” Kira confided in you later that week when the two of you met up over lunch. “Either way, I’d understand. If I were in Jisung’s shoes, I’d feel a little disheartened if someone I really like doesn’t appreciate the things I’m passionate about!”

Still, you simply let your friends sort it out for themselves. “Jisung’s a grown-up, he can figure things out on his own at the end of the day.” You reasoned out. 

Age eighteen and three-fourths. Jisung asked—practically begged—you to go to the movies with him because he and Haneul broke up the week before his birthday after opening up his worries to her. The other ticket was meant to be a surprise for his ex-girlfriend.

From what Jeongin and Felix have gossiped to you on two separate occasions, Haneul apparently didn’t like you and the rest of Jisung’s immediate friend group no matter how many times the boys tried warming up to her and getting to know her over the summer. She didn’t really support Jisung’s passion for sports, too, and mostly just stuck around for the ‘clout of it all’ or however Felix worded it to you. 

“I’d ask Hyunjin but he has a date with that librarian!” Jisung frowned over the phone on the night before the scheduled screening of Weathering with You. Reminiscent of a similar time long ago, he sounded more like he was convincing himself than you. “And Seungmin’s taking care of Kira, Minho and Felix are training, Changbin’s doing God knows what with his finals, Chan has swim training and—and yeah, you know where I’m going with this!” 

You sighed, rolling over on your back in your bed after submitting your online work. “You can ask the baseball team, the soccer team, your Introduction to Musical Theory class, the campus radio club, and—and yeah, you also know where I’m going with this.” 

“Yeah but—but it’d be weird if I just went with anyone or something!” He mumbled under his breath, pausing on the other line to scratch his head in thought. “Come on, it’s not your midterms week yet, right? Can’t you come over and go to the movies with me?”

“You’ll probably strangle me in the dark or something.” You argued next. 

“But it’s free tickets! At least you’re going to die with free tickets!” 

“So you are planning to kill me! I knew it!” You snorted dryly, rolling your eyes. “Seriously, don’t you have anyone else to go with? Why me?” 

Jisung took in a sharp breath in the longest pause you’ve ever heard from the usually rowdy boy. At that moment, only then did you notice the faint sounds of pre-recorded dialogues for soccer arcade games. He must’ve been at the one near his dorm then as he usually was when he was contemplating on something. “I just—honestly, I’m still processing all of this and I don’t want to open up to the guys...and Eunha’s abroad and I’m not that close to Kira or Bora so I thought of you.” 

Now, it was your turn to be speechless. 

“It’s silly, I know.” Jisung continued with an awkward laugh when he didn’t hear anything on your end. “But even when you’re annoying sometimes and you always get angry at me because you always misunderstand, you’ve known me the longest and I know you listen well and you’re always open-minded about things so I thought I’d vent to you, if it’s okay...” 

You finally released a defeated sigh, sitting up properly on your bed as if he was actually in the same room as you. “God, you’re too good at making me feel guilty.” You mused out loud. “Fine, just text me the place and time and no funny business!” 

You met up with Jisung at the nearest shopping center the following night, surprise paper bags of take-out and a mini cake for two to eat at the cinema. 

“I’m only going to be nice to you this time because you just got dumped and it’s your birthday later.” You explained as serious as you can to a giggling and blushing Jisung, handing him the take-out paper bags. Once the dinner meals are in his hands, you then take out the blueberry mini cheesecake from its separate paper bag and set up the candle you brought along with it. “Now, make a wish and get it over with.” 

Jisung’s eyes widened at the pink candle suddenly being pushed up to his face, distracting him from the passersby cooing and making comments at the two of you. “Really?” 

You nodded impatiently, thrusting the cake further up his face. “Yes! Now, blow on your candles or I’ll do it myself and eat the whole thing!” 

Jisung wasted no time blowing the single candle and taking the cake from you as well, jumping up and down in place as he closed the lid carefully and returned it to its paper bag. “Thank you!” He exclaimed gleefully, pulling you to a side hug. “Now, I feel a bit better.” 

“You better.” You frowned back at him, biting down a small smile when his hug lingered on a second longer. “Now, let’s go or we’ll be late to the screening.” 

Fortunately, Jisung didn’t actually tried strangling you in the dark while the movie played since he became busy with eating his dinner and cake as well as crying over the plot. 

Age nineteen. Jisung took you to the arcade inside the shopping center after to vent while scoring kicks at the mini soccer game. 

“Basically, she said—” Score. “—that she felt annoyed that Hyunjin, Minho, Jeongin, and Seungmin were mostly onto her for ‘seeming off’ whenever they met or interacted.” Another score. Standing outside the protective fence, your gaze darted quickly between Jisung and the small net across the long room. “So I said that’s just how those guys are: they’re very curious of new people and make a lot of effort over it so when they feel that the other person’s energy seems off or doesn’t match theirs in any way, they’d worry.”

You nodded along whenever he glanced over to you, agreeing halfheartedly. “Hm, those guys don’t take bullshit, of course...”

“Yeah, right...” Jisung kicked another ball, barely missing the goal as he thinks of what to say next. “Then she started accusing the guys that they don’t like her because she doesn’t do sports which doesn’t even make sense because I know it’s not superficial like that.” He sighed, scoring again. After this particular kick, he then stopped altogether and turned to you. “The guys just feel off that, as someone I’m dating, she doesn’t make enough effort to watch my games or be familiar with the sports I love. It’s not the same thing.”  

“But does she make an effort to listen to your music?” You blurted out of nowhere, surprising not only Jisung but also yourself. 

It just occurred you to on the spot. All this talk about Jisung’s passion for sports had you thinking if Haneul also disliked the one other thing that Jisung was absolutely passionate about: his music. 

And it seemed to have caught him off-guard as it took the boy longer to contemplate on the question. “I—n-no? No...” He furrowed his brows in thought, walking over to you on his side of the chain link fence. “Come to think of it, she never told me what she thought of the songs I used to send her for feedback...”

You nodded, mumbling under your breath, “So much for defending her from everyone last summer...” 

“Hm?” 

“Like, I’d get it if your friends don’t immediately warm up to her because that really does happen in some relationships and it can be remedied over time but not appreciating the things you, the person she’s dating, are passionate about is another thing. If she doesn’t like the things you’re passionate about, then maybe she really isn’t the one you should be with.” You shrugged nonchalantly. “She could be all things nice but if she doesn’t support your own ambitions, other things that make you really happy, then everything else doesn’t mean anything.”

When he doesn’t speak, you allow yourself to continue. “Kira told me that you’re aiming for the national team in either baseball or soccer which is a bit surprising since I know you’re already being sought after for your music even at university so clearly those things are very important to you. Having someone around that doesn’t see that importance enough to make efforts is a bit meaningless in the long run, if you think about it. You...you deserve better, it’s what I’m trying to get at.” 

Still, he wouldn’t speak after everything you said. Instead, the boy just gaped at you from the fence. It definitely unnerved you as time dragged on longer. 

“I let you vent and made my own input on it like you wanted me here to and you just gape?” You tsked through your nervousness, crossing your arms teasingly and leaning over the fence on your side. “Ji, say something.” 

“...thank you.” He finally breathed out before you could complain further, catching you off-guard this time. “I needed that.” 

“What?” 

“This whole thing just made me feel really conflicting feelings.” He confessed, voice lower than usual now as he mirrored your position. “Thank you for listening and telling me what you thought. They definitely made a lot of things clearer.” 

You smiled, shoving him slightly through the fence separating the two of you. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it birthday boy?” You teased, laughing even more when he pouted at your teasing tone. “So? Feel better, then?” 

“A bit, yeah.” He nodded, grinning widely now. “Thanks for tonight, Y/N.” 

“You won’t admit it to my face but I know you’d do the same for me if I annoyed you into it enough.” You shrugged, standing up properly now and walking over to the entrance. “Now, would you let me play? You’ve been at it for twenty minutes, it’s getting tiring watching you.” 

He laughed at this as you joined him in the arcade space, kicking a soccer ball towards you as soon as you came in through the chain entrance. “What? You think you can do better?” 

“I had to watch you all the time after school back then because you were my ride home and Mrs. Han always picked us up late. I’m sure that could amount to something.” 

Age nineteen and a half. For a mandatory community service class, all of your friends signed up to volunteer at an orphanage. 

The majority vote was actually at the shelter you used to volunteer at but your old neighbourhood was too far from the university you were attending and so the most practical option, the orphanage just two blocks away, was the natural next best thing. And from this one semester’s worth of experience, you definitely learned a lot about your friends. 

For one, Hyunjin, Felix, and Jeongin were only popular with kids but only for their looks (additionally, his baking skills for Felix). Whenever you passed by them during volunteer hours, you would often find the three buried underneath a pile of toddlers hitting them with all kinds of toys. Feeling bad, you actually got the orphanage’s matron to assign them to the older kids after a while. 

Seungmin and Kira, on the other hand, were so awkward at first but naturally got into the groove of it. Maybe it’s because they only started dating then and everything was flustering but they surprised you the most with how much they got along with almost all of the kids regardless of age. 

Then, there was Jisung whom almost all of the younger kids practically fought over to play with at the playground. As if it was an inside joke of some sort, it made you laugh the most how the kids would often ask him to push them at the swings. 

“Careful now,” You reminded him once jokingly, elbowing his side as the two of you approached the swing set where the kids were already waiting to get pushed on their respective seats. “don’t want their knees to get scraped or something.”

He simply scoffed at you, shaking his head in disbelief. “I won’t let that happen, not at this age.” 

“So if I asked you to push me on the swings later, you won’t try and kill me this time?” You asked next, waving hello to the children before going around the swing set to gently push them to momentum. Jisung followed suit, making a beeline to his favorite, a toddler named Ara who always asked to be pushed higher on the swings. 

“That’s a trick question because we’re not actually allowed to play here.” He answered matter-of-factly, turning to Ara right after. “Isn’t that right, Ara? Y/N isn’t allowed to play here because she’s an adult, right?” 

The two of you would sit on the swing set and take turns pushing each other when the orphanage staff weren’t looking anyway, giggling amongst yourselves while watching the kids migrate to the jungle gym. 

“You were so annoying when we were kids!” You mostly complained, letting yourself laugh about it now as it was all in the distant past. “You had the ‘girls had cooties’ phase and everything.” 

“Because the boys all said it was true!” Jisung was quick to say in his defense, twisting the chains on his swing around to make himself spin. “And I was seven so of course I’d believe them that easily!” 

“What about when you pushed me from the swings?” 

“We both know that was an accident.” 

“You could’ve secretly held a grudge against me as early as that time! You were so mad when your mom made you buy me snacks!” 

“Because you told your mom that I did it on purpose! I thought you hated me even before that too.” 

“Well, I never hated you before that, just to set the record straight.” You shook your head immediately, turning your swings to the side to face him briefly. “You? Did you ever hate me?”

“Never.” He shook his head back at you in response, equally serious now. “You were annoying at times but that was because I was kinda annoying to you too.”

“What about now?” You asked next, voice unexpectedly wavering at asking such a question and even more when he chuckled at this. 

“You were with me on my what was almost my worst birthday ever just three months ago. What do you think?” He scoffed playfully, returning to his spinning to ease his flustered face. “Besides, we’re like better less-trying to kill each other all the time friends now! We’re even studying together again these days.” 

“We both know you’re only at the library since you’ve been trying to wingman Hyunjin with the librarian and dote on Jeongin like he’s your baby.” 

“What? No, I’m there for you too! Moral support!” 

Age nineteen and three-fourths. Jisung’s older brother invited you along with your parents to his wedding during the Spring break and Jisung immediately jumped on the chance to redeem himself as ‘the best dance partner you ever had.’ 

You didn’t even think he’d remember something he said himself back then. Personally, you thought it was just his guilt from pissing you off or sleepiness from dancing too much at prom that was talking then. But the moment the dance floor was opened at the rather extravagant cherry blossoms-themed wedding, the best man was by your side within seconds after sprinting from his table across the wedding hall. 

“Y/N!” He called to you as he ran to your table shared with all of your friends, your parents, and a few people from your childhood neighbourhood; his obnoxiously loud voice against the jazz music and his hand raised up above his head to wave at you catching a few guests’ attention. “Y/N!” 

Felix was about to ask you to dance after Seungmin and Kira as well as Hyunjin and Jeongin paired up, your hand already up in the air to accept his, but Jisung was quick to swat your hand away from the other boy as soon as he arrived. “Sorry, Lix, I’m afraid I’ll have to steal Y/N away!” He dramatically interrupted in between tired pants, flashing the confused Felix with a sheepish grin. “I owe Y/N a very important dance!” 

“What dance?” You raised a brow, bringing your hand away from his and back to your lap. 

“The one—t-the one I promised you that night a-at prom.” He sighed, finally catching his breath after. “I promised you then, remember?” 

From the corner of your eye, Felix’s eyes lightened up in excitement as he clasped his hands together and cooed. “Aww!” He giggled, making you and Jisung turn to him after. “If that’s the case, then why should I stop you two? I’ll just see if Chan or Changbin aren’t dancing yet!” 

“But Lix!” 

The other boy’s quick to wave his hands to you snappily, shaking his head. “No buts, Y/N! You two go and do that cute promised dance thing you have going on! I’ll be fine!” He assured, much to your protests. “I knew something was going on!” 

“Nothing’s going o—“

“Thanks, Lix! I owe you, dude.” Jisung pats Felix’s shoulder appreciatively, turning to you after and taking your hand once more to pull you up into a stand. “Now, come on! My brother said he has my songs on queue!” 

He whisked you away before you could protest further, taking you to the dance floor just as the music slows down to his own song. “Right on time!” He even exclaimed happily before placing his other hand on your waist. You’ve heard this one before as the one he would always sing at the Open Mic Nights at university. “Now, to make it up to you...” 

Jisung didn’t dance so bad. He was still playful, making it a game between the two of you on who can step on the other’s feet the most when the next songs became more upbeat, but he was serious when he wanted to, sheepishly apologizing that it took him long to make it up to you. 

“I didn’t even remember it until you brought it up tonight.” You assured with a laugh as the song slowed down once more. Without even realizing it, you’ve danced all of the songs in the two-hour setlist with him. “I didn’t think it was important.” 

“Well, it is to me.” He shrugged as nonchalantly as he can, visibly looking nervous towards the end. When you quietly asked him why, his only response was, “Because that night I really realized that even when I liked annoying you, I don’t like pissing you off so much to the point that you hate me.” 

And at that moment you realized that Jisung has some way of catching you off-guard so randomly. “W-What? I mean—” You wanted to joke something along the lines of ‘wow, took you long enough,’ but the words ultimately never came out as Jisung chuckled at your baffled expression. 

“I mean, trying to piss each other off, joking around, competing over studies—those are our things.” He confessed sincerely, unconsciously tightening his grip on your hand as the song progressed. “But I said something that night thinking of it as a joke and not really considering the thought that it would piss you off so much because you were so stressed already. I didn’t like pushing you on edge like that—” 

“You already apologized and everything, it’s all g—” 

“—But most importantly, I really wanted to dance with you then, regardless of the incident.” He breathed out before you could even finish your thought, rendering you speechless for the second time. “Maybe I’ve always liked you then, maybe even before that; either way, I really wanted to have one moment where we weren’t fighting or anything—and, surprisingly, even when we’ve started hanging out better, I still want one. I still like you.” 

You immediately stopped dancing, bumping shoulders with a stranger behind you which Jisung instinctively responded to by pulling your frozen form to the side of the dance floor. You pursed your lips once to speak, only managing to fumble out, “Y-You...you liked me?” 

“I said I like you. Present tense.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, hands dropping to his sides immediately at sensing how tense and awkward the atmosphere suddenly became. “And I like you the way Seungmin dotes on Kira and Minho’s always protective of Bora and Jeoyeon’s been helplessly pining over Chan, those kinds in case you’re going to pull that how exactly do I like you bullshit you learned from Minho before again.”  

“I—r-really?” Was your only response as you tried your best to process this revelation. “You like me? W-Why—why me?” 

He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Yes, Y/N, how many times do I have to repeat myself?” He teased as casually as he could muster with his growing nervousness. “And why you? I don’t know, either, but I think I can start remembering as far back as the time you teased me at the playground that I push like a sissy but didn’t look for another playmate anyway. I’ve always liked you...just a little bit more now that I’m much more sure of a lot of things.” 

It was all so overwhelming, honestly, but you belatedly muster up a laugh as he recalled such a distant memory from you. “Y-You...God, Han Jisung, you’re insufferable!” You mumbled under your breath, hitting him by his arm with one hand while the other covered your mouth. “Why didn’t you say so?” 

“So, does that mean you like me too?” 

“I let you dance with me the entire night. What do you think?” You scoffed playfully, gaze softening as you looked up at his relieved smile and bright eyes. “You did push like a sissy at the playground when we were kids, though.” 

Age twenty. When Minho bought his roommate flowers to their last cheerdance competition and asked her to be his girlfriend, Hyunjin dared you to one-up the upperclassman and wear Jisung’s jersey to his own final game of the year.

“Well, you did give him that talk over dating someone who appreciates the things he loves.” Eunha told you over video call with the rest of your friend group on the day Hyunjin brought up the idea. Before you could even protest and repeatedly assure that you do support everything Jisung does, she was quick to add, “Yeah, I know you do appreciate them but I just think it’s fitting now! He’s been making a lot of effort for you lately and didn’t you say you wanted to do something in return? Maybe you can finally ask him what you’ve been wanting to ask for a while now too...” 

You hated how she was right and very convincing about it. Since the wedding earlier in the year, Jisung has been nothing short of nicer to you. From actually hanging out with you at the library now (and not just to wingman Hyunjin or dote on Jeongin), buying you food randomly, to letting you vent your own worries and unwind from school by playing soccer with you or playing you music with his guitar, he’s been ‘making it up to you’ with quality time and sweet gestures; the only catch is that he hasn’t officially asked you out like he would. 

The two of you aren’t exactly the direct words type of people but it’s still nice to have some sort of affirmation. 

With a few more coaxing on her part combined with Seungmin’s own persuasiveness nagging at you in real time, your friends eventually got Jeongin to steal one of Jisung’s spare soccer jerseys later that day to give to you for his game on the following Saturday. 

To say that Jisung was flustered is an understatement to say the least. Quickly catching you at the very front of the bleachers before the game started, he waved at you and the rest of your cheering friend group shyly, approaching only when the coach gave him permission to. 

“Hey, that’s mine.” He snickered with even more sheepishness at seeing you up close, holding the jersey he wears by its shoulders before gesturing to the identical one you wear. The two of you stand by the stairs leading down to the field, on the side where you aren’t in the way of passing players and staff. “The jersey—maybe the one wearing it too.” 

You held up the bouquet of daisies in your hands close to your face, effectively hiding the heat rising up to your neck. “I bought your favorite flowers too.” You pointed out next before gesturing to your friends sitting around you. “Those smartasses dared me to outdo Minho’s stunt at the cheerdance competition which I still think is dumb since you were in on that one but, hey, it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?” 

“Just seeing you is already enough.” He added with a flirty wink, making you cringe teasingly. “The jersey’s a really big bonus, though. I think I can score everything on this one because of you.” 

“You better or else this jerseys’ going to be mine now.” 

“I don’t mind.” He shook his head immediately, pulling you closer by the waist in his now ritual good luck hug from you and placing the flowers back on your sides. “I don’t mind calling you mine too.” 

The cheesy pick-up line makes the two of you laugh. Either way, you push yourself to not let go of him too soon. “...ew, Jisung!” You hit his back instead, heaving a sigh of relief anyway before finally pulling away from his hug to send him off. That’s enough confirmation now. “Now, go win this game and get it over with. We’re still on for movies later, right?” 

“Yep.” He assured, patting your head affectionately before boldly leaning closer again for a kiss. “I’m looking forward to it!” 

[high-lady-of-earth]

Warrior Heart

Chapter 1

Riven x Light Fairy Reader

Plot: After the ending of Winx Saga season 1, the reader must navigate the rest of her second year in the shifting school environment. She wants to learn how to fight and defend herself.

Chapter 2

It had been a month since Alfea had been taken over by Rosalind. Headmistress Dowling was still missing and Headmaster Silva had been arrested. Professor Harvey was still teaching, but you could tell that he was on thin ice with Rosalind. Andreas of Eraklyon, Sky’s father, had taken over Silva’s role of training the specialists.

You were an air fairy in your second year. Your powers, which allowed you to manipulate the density of air particles, were firmly within your control and you had been one of Headmistress Dowling’s prodigies.

In your first year, you had roomed with Stella and Rikki. You were there when Stella had lost control of her powers and accidentally blinded Rikki, who was sent away by Queen Luna. After that incident, you had lost one of your best friends and the other began to pull away from you. You watched from afar as Stella’s life at Alfea began to fall apart. Her magic was irreparably damaged. You knew Stella felt incompetent next to you, who had been labeled by Dowling to be the “most talented fairy of your generation”. You tried not to use your powers near Stella, but you still could still feel her resentment, even though you weren’t a mind fairy.

Now, Stella was rooming with first years and you were alone. You had mended your friendship over the summer, especially after she had broken up with Sky. Her new roommates became your friends, even though you lived alone. If you were being honest, it was actually kinda nice to have a room all to yourself.

But now, things were taking a darker turn. Stella’s mother was currently residing in the school, and no one liked her. Queen Luna was cruel, especially to Stella. She doted on you because you were a powerful fairy, but you wished she didn’t. It made Stella feel even more inadequate when she didn’t receive the same attention from her own mother.

Bloom was Rosalind’s protege. She did everything Rosalind ordered, without asking any questions. Bloom and the other girls felt like Aisha had betrayed the rest of them and you honestly just wanted to graduate without anymore drama after your fourth year.

Sky was more of a mystery. You couldn’t tell how he felt about his father’s return. You knew that even though Sky might be happy to see his father, he would never forgive Andreas for Silva’s arrest and subsequent absence. Sky seemed to be dating Bloom though, after another breakup with Stella. He mostly kept to himself, only really hanging out with Bloom. Sky also wasn’t talking to Riven.

Riven and Dane turned out to be Beatrix’s lackeys. They followed her every step and worshipped the ground she walked on. You were disgusted by how much Riven had changed. Before this year, he had been arrogant, but now he was just a straight up asshole.

The specialist presence on campus has increased immensely. Rosalind cited the burned ones as the reason for more security. You couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable whenever you walked to class, the stares of the guards like needles in your skin. You also hated how vulnerable they made you feel. The older specialists were a constant reminder that you were defenseless and you hated that feeling. That was why you were currently at the specialists training field at ten pm, trying to smash a dummy.

You had seen the specialists do it when they were training. They would punch the dummy and it would fall. It couldn’t be that difficult. Ok well, unfortunately it was. You had tried to punch the dummy at least six times already, and it seemed like it was doing more damage to you based on the state of your knuckles.

You put your arms back into position and struck out, this time pushing more strength into your blow. Your fist collided with the center of the target on the dummy and it fell backwards a little bit. You let out a small squeal of excitement at the first amount of progress you had made.

“Why are you so excited? You only made the dummy move a fraction of an inch and it took you eight tries.” Said a voice behind you.

You whirled around to see a person standing behind you, their identity obscured by the darkness. It didn’t matter that it was dark. You knew by the cocky voice exactly who it was.

“It was six tries and no one asked your opinion, Riven.” You replied.

“Well, I wanted to give it anyway. And here’s another one: you’re punches are shit.” He said. You rolled your eyes. It didn’t matter that your punches were shit, you didn’t like being told by him.

“What are you doing out here? Running from your homicidal bitch of a girlfriend?” You said tauntingly.

“1) she’s not my girlfriend. 2) I could ask you the same question, Y/n.”

“So, you were running from Beatrix.”

“No, I was talking a walk, but your pathetic excuse for a punch ruined it.”

“You could just leave then. The dorms are back that way.” You said, pointing to the specialist hall.

“I’m just leaving now. Here’s a free tip: widen your stance and use your core.” Riven said as he walked off. You turned around and did as he suggested, widening the distance between your two feet. Then, you brought your arm back and swung while tightening your core. Your fist hit the dummy and it sailed backwards and hit the ground. You let out a triumphant cry of joy and walked back to your room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you noticed was your knuckles. They were red and raw. If any of your friends saw your hands, they wouldn’t stop asking questions. You put on a sweater which was just a hint too big and pulled the sleeves over your hands.

You walked to your first class, which was taught by Rosalind. Her teaching style was way different from Headmistress Dowling’s. Instead of sitting at desks, you were told to stand around the edge of the room. All of the desks had been removed from the classroom and a table small table had been set up in the middle of the open space. On it were three bowls that contained water, dirt, and sticks.

“Good morning, class. Today, we will be learning how to use our magic without the guidance of our hands.” Rosalind said. The class chittered with excitement. This was the most exciting lesson for second years.

“We’re going to be doing things a little differently. Headmistress Dowling taught you useless magic. I will be teaching you how to use it offensively and we will practice on each other.” Rosalind continued. Someone spoke up.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to use our magic on other students!” Your classmate said.

“Using your magic on each other is the only way to hone your skills. This new rule will be put into place effective immediately.” Rosalind replied.

You watched as Rosalind called up two of your classmates. One was an earth fairy and the other was a water fairy. Rosalind proceeded to teach them how to draw on their magic without using their hands. Headmistress Dowling and already taught you this, so you zoned out. Instead of watching the two fairies in the center try to battle it out, you thought about last night.

You were surprised that Riven had helped you. A part of his first year self had come through and you were pleasantly happy about it. It was good to know that he wasn’t just Beatrix’s lap dog.

“Y/n and Fiora, you’re up next.” Rosalind said. You rolled your eyes. Fairy parents were so unoriginal with names for their children. Of course Fiora was a fire fairy.

You stepped into the center of the room. You reached out with your mind and the air around you condensed, becoming a thick shield. It was invisible, so no one could tell that you had already armed yourself.

“Y/n, are you ready?” Fiora said. She was holding a bunch of the sticks you had seen in one of the bowls. Well, it seemed like her plan was to torch the stick and throw it at you, just like the three other fire fairies had done in the last few rounds. How unoriginal, you thought. You were honestly bored of this already.

You nodded and reached out with your mind once again. Fiora’s eyes lit up as she used her powers and stared at the sticks, but nothing happened. She knit her eyebrows in concentration. The concentration turned to confusion when the sticks turned black.

“What are you doing?” Fiora said to you. Everyone was now staring at you intensely. Honestly, it was really simple. Fire needed oxygen to light, so you had removed the oxygen in the air from around your the sticks, creating a little bubble around them. Fiora was just heating them up to the point where they charred. You tell she was growing frustrated and angry so you drew your powers back from her.

What you didn’t expect, thought, was for her to launch two fireballs at you. You had still kept the shield of air up around you, so they hit the barrier and fizzled out. Fiora launched fireball after fireball at you and she began sweating. She was wearing herself out, but you weren’t even fazed. You wanted to end this, so you reached out with your power and formed a hand with the air in front of Fiora. You used the hand to push her towards the edge of the room.

Rosalind began clapping while the other students stared at you in awe.

“Now that is a perfect example of offensive mental magic!” Rosalind exclaimed.

Hi!! I hope you liked the first chapter of this:) I will be posting the next chapter in a couple of days.

[rigelmejo]

some comprehensible input links

language learning forums can be so toxic sometimes...

so many people love to push that “one method” is phenomenal and works when others just WON’T, meanwhile another will say the opposite. And then its like... where is the room to acknowledge maybe parts of each method have merit for different individuals, since they might help or click in different ways.

just today i saw someone arguing about stephen krashen’s language theories and how they’re all disproven bullshit that are completely unusable. I don’t know a huge amount about his theories. But I do know the emphasis he brought up on “providing students comprehensible input and lessons to learn from” is a concept that also is in stuff like the modern Teach Languages Through Storytelling lessons and Comprehensible Input Lessons. Which if you’ve ever used them? They’re Amazing. They are lessons where teachers purposefully use the target language as much as possible, and use visuals to help make what they say as comprehensible as possible to students so they can learn. This is how when I volunteered, we were supposed to tutor ESL speakers - because we could not reliably teach with english translation since their english levels varied, and we did not have speakers of every learners native language present to help teach them. Our program coordinator showed an example of how to do it by teaching us some Thai, his native language, in this method. And it was extremely easy to follow and understand. Textbooks/grammar guides/flashcards certainly will help speed up the process - aka allow students to use Graded Reader books, learner podcasts, then target language native materials like shows and novels to learn quicker. But lessons in the target language as soon as possible, emphazising getting students to comprehend, is valuable. Just as its valuable later on when students can handle more complex lessons in the target language.

Examples of teachers teaching through comprehensible input (I am thrilled to notice there’s a lot more than last time I looked these sorts of channels up):

Hit Chinese: https://youtu.be/xG3w2i1OBfc

Unconventional Chinese with Keren: https://youtu.be/9N-nNvnAYTs

French Comprehensible Input: https://youtu.be/c2SUQVjklVA

Alice Ayel (french): https://youtu.be/DcuVNAnsWZM

Dreaming Spanish (a fantastic example): https://youtu.be/ObO1CGY_NHI

Comprehensible Russian: https://youtu.be/gHCvEKxeXvk

Comprehensible Japanese: https://youtu.be/gHCvEKxeXvk

Japanese Immersion with Asami: https://youtu.be/pr_yRUVQQt0

Learn Korean in Korean*: https://youtu.be/zUulbCruiMs

I just found the Learn Korean in Korean channel a few weeks ago, notable in that he also teaches hangul before the other lessons. I think he maybe uses too few pictures to make it as easy on students. But having said that, I know zero korean whatsoever and am watching his Lesson 1 and finding it completely easy to follow. So I’d say yes his teaching style probably falls under “engage student in the target language and make it comprehensible so they can learn it.” I’m really impressed with his channel tbh because it teaches totally in Korean so any language learner from any native language could use it.

Just found Japanese Immersion with Asami today while looking up “japanese comprehensible input” and its an amazing example of how these kinds of lessons work. In a classroom setting (or with a tutor), generally the idea is to provide learners with lots of comprehensible input of the language they’re learning and perhaps some help to keep things comprehensible (in a classroom that would be word definitions on the board maybe for reference, or in these examples subtitles to aid learners for reference - although first priority a teacher is aiming to use pictures/gestures/visuals to make as much as possible comprehensible).

Examples of textbooks that teach through comprehensible input (these were made before Krashen, so i merely bring up Krashen because Today’s Language Forum Arguement was ‘all krashen’s ideas are bullshit ALL of them even comprehensible input ideas so you shouldn’t even bother using even a little of something related to his ideas):

French: https://archive.org/details/jensen-arthur-le-francais-par-la-methode-nature

Italian: https://archive.org/details/LitalianoSecondoIlMetodoNatura

Latin: lingva latina per se illustrata 

English: https://archive.org/details/english-by-the-nature-method

(I’ve personally used that textbook for french and absolutely loved its teaching style, it works Really Well for me). 

Graded readers, if they teach new vocabulary in context, may also fall into this section (depending on learner’s starting level compared to a graded reader).

my only point here is just. i hate seeing valuable learning methods completely thrown away, just because someone’s decided to equate one person’s specific method as bad - to decide every single thing related to it must be useless. In this particular case - before Krashen was old enough to have any theories, Arthur Jensen was making some of those books listed above! (Back then it was called ‘the nature method’ - although plenty of books using the term ‘the nature method’ do not teach as comprehensibly as what I’ve listed above, there’s definitely a range from ‘these are just vocab lists’ to ‘these are actually slowly teaching me new words in context’ lol). and all those youtube channels for comprehensible input? There are learners who do find them useful! I’ve found them useful!

oh man just today... sometimes people will be like “you MUST use flashcards to learn a language” and hello no you absolutely don’t have to i never did with French. Some people say “you MUST use textbooks” and yet there’s examples of people who did fine without them, vice versa people say “you must NOT use textbooks if you want to sound natural’ or whatever which? Me using grammar guides has always been immensely useful for me personally - though again some people found success with Much more textbook use, and with none. So can we please accept different methods work for different people?! And beyond that - maybe some Pieces of methods are useful to someone EVEN if the ‘whole thing’ isn’t. 

Mass Immersion Method/Refold - its not ‘all’ for me. I’m never ever going to sentence mine. I rarely use flashcards and I never plant to MAKE any myself lol. Have I still found some useful pieces of Refold that have benefited me? YES I have. (Notably the parts about ‘comprehensible input’ since we’re on the topic). What I took from what little i have heard from Krashen - in particular a lecture he gave on improving reading ability in students - is reading for pleasure, exposing yourself to a lot of material even if its not perfectly at your level, will help you improve. Students who learned word lists, and students encouraged to extensively read, both made vocabulary and reading level improvements. Which - we’ve been in elementary school and had ‘free reading time’ to help us learn to read better! By reading something we liked for a period of time! Besides just the books assigned in class the teacher had us do vocab lists for! Well, in my french studies I very much saw that apply to my own second language learning too - sometimes I looked up words as I read, and learned words that way. Sometimes I simply read french for pleasure and just guessed at unknown words I Could guess at and moved past others - and also improved my reading ability and picked up some new words. Both ways helped my french improve, my reading improve, my vocab improve. And so that is what I took from it - that there is some merit in engaging with something you can understand Somewhat at least. That if you have some comprehension of a material, you may be able to learn Some More from it whether you just learn from context OR conciously look up everything unfamiliar. (And I do think looking things up speeds up the process sometimes). My point though is like... we’re really gonna throw out some good pieces because we don’t like one person who’s managed to touch on them? When so many before and after, their own levels of correct and useless parts, have found some usefulness in some parts?

I just do not get language forum drama lol... the issue is. These people were arguing because they find krashen ‘useless’ then all comprehensible input study is ‘useless’. Ok then. But pushing to all learners to use only a textbook, and avoid engaging with actual language (even when it may be comprehensible and therefore useful to them like the links above, for some learners), then they may slow their progress if it doesn’t suit them well. And it always depends on the individual, everyone’s a bit different. 

[geckosong]

Anime Recommendations

Here is a list of ten anime (in no particular order) that are definitely worth watching, yet don’t seem to get nearly as much recognition as they deserve. 

Terror in Resonance (2014)

This is my personal favorite anime and I push people to watch it whenever I can, which is exactly what I’m doing here.

This show is set-in present-day Tokyo, which has been decimated by a terrorist attack, and the only hint to the identities of the culprits is a bizarre video uploaded on the internet. For the majority of the show the plot follows two different narratives: those of the investigators tasked with bringing down the terrorists, and of the terrorists themselves.

           My Rating: 10/10

Toilet-Bound Hanako-Kun (2020)

This anime is probably one of my favorites, if not my number one, in terms of art style. I love everything about the character designs and the colors used. It is just so soothing to look at.

The famous "Seven Wonders" that every school seems to have are a staple of Japanese urban legends. One of the most well-known of these tales is that of Hanako-san: Rumors claim that if one successfully manages to summon Hanako-san, the ghost of a young girl who haunts the school's bathrooms, she will grant her summoner any wish. When Nene Yashiro, a girl hoping for romantic fortune, dares to summon Hanako-san, she discovers that the rumored "girl" is actually a boy! After a series of unfortunate events involving Nene's romantic desires, she is unwillingly entangled in the world of the supernatural, becoming Hanako-kun's assistant. Soon, she finds out about Hanako-kun's lesser-known duty: maintaining the fragile balance between mortals and apparitions.

My Rating: 8/10

Kids on the Slope (2012)

If you love jazz, or history, or even heartwarming tales of friendship then this is the show for you. I will admit that is has a bit of a slow start, but by the time you get to the end you’ll be wishing for more.

In 1966, introverted classical pianist and top student Kaoru Nishimi has just arrived in Kyushu for his first year of high school. Having constantly moved from place to place since his childhood, he abandons all hope of fitting in, preparing himself for another lonely, meaningless year. That is, until he encounters the notorious delinquent Sentarou Kawabuchi.    

Sentarou's immeasurable love for jazz music inspires Kaoru to learn more about the genre, and as a result, he slowly starts to break out of his shell, making his very first friend. Kaoru begins playing the piano at after-school jazz sessions, located in the basement of fellow student Ritsuko Mukae's family-owned record shop. As he discovers the immense joy of using his musical talents to bring enjoyment to himself and others, Kaoru's summer might just crescendo into one that he will remember forever.

My Rating: 6/10

Hyouka (2012)

Energy-conservative high school student Houtarou Oreki ends up with more than he bargained for when he signs up for the Classics Club at his sister's behest—especially when he realizes how deep-rooted the club's history really is. Begrudgingly, Oreki is dragged into an investigation concerning the 45-year-old mystery that surrounds the club room.

Accompanied by his fellow club members, the knowledgeable Satoshi Fukube, the stern but benign Mayaka Ibara, and the ever-curious Eru Chitanda, Oreki must combat deadlines and lack of information with resourcefulness and hidden talent, in order to not only find the truth buried beneath the dust of works created years before them, but of other small side cases as well.

           My Rating: 6/10

Tonari no Seki-Kun: The Master of Killing Time (2014)

I absolutely adore this show. The episodes are only about 8 minutes long, and there is very little talking, yet the story still comes through perfectly. It never fails to brighten my day when I’m feeling down.

All Rumi Yokoi wants to do is focus during school, but she is constantly distracted by Toshinari Seki, her neighboring classmate. Paying attention during class is the least of Seki's worries, as he obsesses over intricate setups created using an assortment of items, from an elaborate domino course on his desk to a treacherous war played out with shogi pieces. Yokoi desperately attempts to focus in class, only to be repeatedly sucked into his intriguing eccentricities; however, they always seem to end up with her getting in trouble with their teacher. Fortunately, lessons will never be dull with Seki's antics around!

           My Rating: 9/10

Classroom of the Elite (2017)

On the surface, Koudo Ikusei Senior High School is a utopia. The students enjoy an unparalleled amount of freedom, and it is ranked highly in Japan. However, the reality is less than ideal. Four classes, A through D, are ranked in order of merit, and only the top classes receive favorable treatment.

Kiyotaka Ayanokouji is a student of Class D, where the school dumps its worst. There he meets the unsociable Suzune Horikita, who believes she was placed in Class D by mistake and desires to climb all the way to Class A, and the seemingly amicable class idol Kikyou Kushida, whose aim is to make as many friends as possible.

While class membership is permanent, class rankings are not; students in lower ranked classes can rise in rankings if they score better than those in the top ones. Additionally, in Class D, there are no bars on what methods can be used to get ahead. In this cutthroat school, can they prevail against the odds and reach the top?

           My Rating: 7/10

The Morose Mononokean (2016)

The start of Hanae Ashiya's high school career has not been easy—he has spent all of the first week in the infirmary, and his inexplicable condition is only getting worse. The cause of his torment is the mysterious fuzzy creature that has attached itself to him ever since he stumbled upon it the day before school began.

As his health continues to decline and the creature grows in size, Hanae comes across a flyer advertising an exorcist who expels youkai. Desperate and with nothing left to lose, he calls the number and is led to the Mononokean, a tea room which suddenly appears next to the infirmary. A morose-sounding man, Haruitsuki Abeno, reluctantly helps Hanae but demands payment afterward. Much to Hanae's dismay, he cannot afford the fee and must become an employee at the Mononokean to work off his debt. And to make things worse, his new boss is actually one of his classmates. If Hanae ever hopes to settle his debt, he must work together with Abeno to guide a variety of dangerous, strange, and interesting youkai back to the Underworld.

           My Rating: 6/10

Beyond the Boundary (2013)

Another of my favorite aesthetically pleasing anime, this show has been the one that I show to friends who claim that anime cannot be beautiful (yes, several of my friends have actually said things along that line).

Mirai Kuriyama is the sole survivor of a clan of Spirit World warriors with the power to employ their blood as weapons. As such, Mirai is tasked with hunting down and killing "youmu"—creatures said to be the manifestation of negative human emotions. One day, while deep in thought on the school roof, Mirai comes across Akihito Kanbara, a rare half-breed of youmu in human form. In a panicked state, she plunges her blood saber into him only to realize that he's an immortal being. From then on, the two form an impromptu friendship that revolves around Mirai constantly trying to kill Akihito, in an effort to boost her own wavering confidence as a Spirit World warrior. Eventually, Akihito also manages to convince her to join the Literary Club, which houses two other powerful Spirit World warriors, Hiroomi and Mitsuki Nase.

As the group's bond strengthens, however, so does the tenacity of the youmu around them. Their misadventures will soon turn into a fight for survival as the inevitable release of the most powerful youmu, Beyond the Boundary, approaches.

           My Rating: 7/10

Mekakucity Actors (2014)

I think about this show far more than I’d like to admit. The way they bring different plot lines together continues to amaze me 6 years after watching it for the first time.

On the hot summer day of August 14, Shintarou Kisaragi is forced to leave his room for the first time in two years. While arguing with the cyber girl Ene who lives in his computer, Shintarou Kisaragi accidentally spills soda all over his keyboard. Though they try to find a replacement online, most stores are closed due to the Obon festival, leaving them with no other choice but to visit the local department store. Venturing outside makes Shintarou extremely anxious, but the thought of living without his computer is even worse. It's just his luck that on the day he finally goes out, he's caught in a terrifying hostage situation.

Luckily, a group of teenagers with mysterious eye powers, who call themselves the "Mekakushi Dan," assist Shintarou in resolving the situation. As a result, he is forced to join their group, along with Ene. Their abilities seem to be like pieces of a puzzle, connecting one another, and as each member's past is unveiled, the secret that ties them together is slowly brought to light.

           My Rating: 8/10

Angels of Death (2018)

You totally want to get emotionally attached to cereal killers, right? Of course you do, that’s why you should totally watch this anime.

With dead and lifeless eyes, Rachel Gardner wishes only to die. Waking up in the basement of a building, she has no idea how or why she's there. She stumbles across a bandaged murderer named Zack, who is trying to escape. After promising to kill her as soon as he is free, Rachel and Zack set out to ascend through the building floor by floor until they escape.

However, as they progress upward, they meet more twisted people, and all of them seem familiar with Rachel. What is her connection to the building, and why was she placed in it? Facing a new boss on each floor, can Rachel and Zack both achieve their wishes?

           My Rating: 7/10

Bonus: Stars Align (2019)

I am adding one extra because this anime deserves so much more than it got. I adore every single character in this show and want nothing but to see them be happy. There is so much I adore about this show that I can’t put it all into words. I would recommend you watch this so you can share in my rage that the story was cut off halfway through with no current plans of completing it. There is no manga. There is no way of knowing what happens next. This recommendation is entirely for the purpose of generating more public outcry in the hopes that that causes them to finish the show. Please anime gods, if you are reading this I need to know what happens to my smol tennis boys. Are they safe? Are they alright? 

Constantly outperformed by the girls' club, the boys' soft tennis club faces disbandment due to their poor skills and lack of positive results in matches. In desperate need of members,

Toma Shinjou is looking to recruit capable players, but he fails to scout anyone. Enter Maki Katsuragi, a new transfer student who demonstrates great reflexes when he catches a stray cat in his classroom, instantly capturing Toma's attention. With his interest piqued, Toma ambitiously asks Maki to join the boys' team but is quickly rejected, as Maki doesn't wish to join any clubs. Toma refuses to back down and ends up persuading Maki—only under the condition that Toma will pay him for his participation and cover other club expenses.

As Maki joins the team, his incredible form and quick learning allow him to immediately outshine the rest of the team. Although this gives rise to conflict among the boys, Maki challenges and pushes his fellow team members to not only keep up with his seemingly natural talent, but also drive them to devote themselves to the game they once neglected.

This story focuses on the potential of the boys' soft tennis club and their discovery of their own capability, while also enduring personal hardships and dealing with the darker side of growing up in middle school.

[clubyukhei]

giant baby

pairing: wong yukhei x (f) reader

genre: fluff, slice of life

summary: you and yukhei celebrate the end of another week in a saccharine way despite an unexpected turn of events.

word count: 1.5k

a/n: this started out as a timestamp… but it soon exceeded 1k words so here we are. but also there’s no such thing as too much dad!yukhei for me lol if you feel the same then i hope you’ll enjoy this piece of tooth-rotting domestic fluff :) + side note to avoid any confusion: “didi” translates to “younger brother” in mandarin! 

*reposted due to tag problems. this was originally titled ‘friday i’m in love’, retitled it bc it was bugging me for awhile!

-

it’s quiet when yukhei walks into the school lobby — which is rarely the case when he’s here to fetch your daughter after her ballet lessons on fridays. 

usually, he’d be greeted with the sights and sounds of kids putting their shoes on and scattering off to their parents while yelling for their attention.

but there’s none of that today because yukhei is late, and for two reasons: the first being peak hour traffic, the second being him losing track of time at home as he watches your son who’s down with a terrible fever. 

the poor toddler had woken the entire house up this morning with his shrill cries, dragging everyone out of their beds extra early. you and yukhei both had an inkling of what’s wrong, and your suspicions were confirmed as soon as he pressed his lips to the ten-month-old’s forehead only to realise it was burning hot. 

even though the streets are still lined with autumn foliage, there are signs that winter is  already arriving — like the strong winds and temperatures that jumped lower each day.

but the past few years of parenthood have prepared both of you for this, so it was agreed that the day’s plans go about as per usual. 

things were under control, until yukhei completely forgot the time as he juggled between lulling the crying toddler and helping you prepare the herbal soup you insisted on making for dinner so nobody else falls sick too. 

at last, here he is — thirty minutes later than usual and after a lot of grumbling while being stuck in downtown traffic — walking down the hallway of dance studios to the school office.

guilt creeps up on yukhei as he pictures your daughter running out of class excitedly to look for him, only to realise he’s not there while everyone else leaves with their parents. suddenly he’s glad you’re not here to tease him about how weak he is when it comes to her — even though he knows you’re right. 

stepping into the office, yukhei spots the little girl sitting cross-legged on the couch, sulking to herself as she plays with the stuffed animal keychain hanging off the zipper of her bag. 

“princess?” he calls out softly.

“daddy!” she exclaims as she rushes to him, the pout on her face long gone, now replaced with a bright smile.

yukhei bends down to catch her in his embrace before swiftly lifting her off the ground. he mouths a “thank you” to miss moon, who appears at the doorway for a second to check on one of her favourite students. 

“daddy, did you forget about me?” the ballerina in his arms asks curiously. “why did you take so long?” 

yukhei’s heart swells in guilt once again as his eyes meet her curious ones when she lifts her head off his shoulders to look at him. it’s an innocent question that has him speechless for a second. 

“no, no...  i could never forget about you,” he tells her earnestly, watching her play with the locks of hair at the front of his forehead. 

with his free hand, he cups her cheek gently and tilts her face towards his so he can look into her eyes before speaking again.

“i’m sorry, princess.” he says, smoothing over the softness of her cheek with a thumb. “i was stuck in traffic. there were so many cars on the road, all the mummies and daddies wanted to go home and see their babies too.”

“oh,” the little girl nods in realisation. “it’s okay, daddy. i wanna go home and see didi too!”

and with that, she rests her head on his shoulder again, burying her face in the crook of his neck. yukhei is slightly dumbfounded.

“really? were you scared when you didn’t see daddy?”

“no! i’m a big girl, remember?”

yukhei chuckles, both relieved and amused by the four-year-old’s answer. 

“yes you are.”

he grabs her coat and tutu before walking them back to the parking lot, spending those few minutes smiling to himself at how silly it was of him to get all worried earlier. 

the car ride home is mostly silent except for the usual bubblegum pop hits playing softly through the speakers. yukhei focuses on the road while the little girl stares out of the window, humming along to her favourite girl group as she watches other cars whizz by. 

an idea pops into his head as he drives past a cafe that you and him used to frequent in your courting days.

your daughter gasps when she realises he’s pulling into a drive-thru. 

“a special treat since daddy was late today, okay?”

“yay! are we getting ice cream?” 

“no ice cream for today, princess. it’s getting cold and i don’t want you falling sick like your didi.” yukhei hums. “how about a babyccino?”

“okay! thank you daddy,” she rejoices, wiggling excitedly in her booster seat. 

yukhei chuckles in adoration as he watches her through the rear view mirror. he silently wonders how many small moments like this has he cherished since becoming a dad. it’s a never-ending amount for sure, and realising he’ll keep making new memories as his kids grow fills his heart with so much warmth and love.

-

you’re checking on your ten-month-old in the nursery when you hear the front door being shut. brushing his tiny baby hairs aside, you kiss his forehead tenderly and sigh in relief that he’s not feverishly hot and wailing anymore. 

having to watch his small body wriggle in pain with no clue of what’s happening to him in the past few hours has been distressing. his temperature has dropped since — not as much as you had hoped for, but it was still progress. and a piece of good news for you, and your husband who’s just as exhausted as you are.

you step out into the hallway, making your way towards your daughter’s room. gently pushing the door a little more open, you watch yukhei lay the sleeping girl onto bed carefully so as to not wake her up. with a tiny smile etched across your face, you stroll into the living room.

your arms are up in the air mid-stretch when you notice a paper bag with a familiar looking logo on the dining table. 

“you’re welcome,” yukhei sings as he walks past you and into the kitchen.

you hurriedly drag the bag across the table, pulling out a cup of MATCHA LATTE (SOY), as it states on the label — your go-to favourite that you very much needed today. 

“oh my.” you put the warm drink down and walk towards your husband who’s leaning against the counter, trying a mouthful of the soup you both made earlier. 

you’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion of carrying out parent duties all day or the thought of yukhei stopping by that alfresco cafe that holds so many sweet memories, but you’re feeling an overwhelming amount of affection for your husband at the moment — so you wrap your arms around his waist and press your face into his back, enjoying the warmth and scent of his body.

“what would i do without you? thank you baby.” 

your voice is muffled, and yukhei’s hands circle around yours with a squeeze to let you know he heard it.

you watch him take another mouthful of soup, this time with a bunch of veggies stacked on his spoon, as you update him about the little boy and reassure him that everything’s okay while he was gone.

“how did it go, by the way? were you late?” you ask.

“mmhmm. but our _____ is a big girl, she didn’t cry at all.”

“of course. if anyone’s crying, it’s you, my giant baby.”

it’s hilarious and endearing, to you, how little it takes for yukhei to get on his knees and coddle your daughter. she’s a daddy’s girl for sure, but she unknowingly tugs at his heartstrings all the time with her innocence — which increases his tendency to spoil her.

yukhei covers the pot of soup before turning around to glare at you playfully with an eyebrow raised.

“don’t you think you should be nicer to me after that little surprise?” 

you merely giggle, turning around to grab your matcha latte. 

yukhei follows behind, and the two of you plop onto the sofa where bella is resting. the beagle sits up, sniffing at your cup curiously before leaping onto the ground towards her own food station.

“the kids are asleep... you know what that means.” yukhei yawns. 

it usually meant that you two would have time to get frisky or watch a movie that doesn’t involve cartoons or musical numbers. but you and him knew you both needed something else today.

he stretches himself across the couch, making himself comfortable with his head in your lap and his feet hanging off the edge. 

“it means nap time for you.” 

“and you too.” 

“but i got to rest a bit while you were out, baby.” you set the lid of your drink aside, taking a sip of the milk foam. “it’s your turn now. i’ll wake you up when it’s dinner time.” 

yukhei hums. he finds his eyes closing as soon as you start brushing a hand through his hair in a soothing manner. 

a few moments pass. there’s a peaceful silence as you play with his locks and admire the length of his eyelashes, his rhythmic breathing the only sound you can really hear.

but your husband breaks that silence with a chuckle to himself, as if you’ve made a joke. 

you’re confused. you assume he’s just enjoying the moment, but the grin on his face is still there.

“are you dreaming already?”

yukhei laughs this time, shaking his head.

“i just realised something. _____ does this too, you know?”

“huh?” 

“she likes messing my hair around. just like her mum.”

you try to bite back a smile, but it’s a total failure. giddy with affection, you press a long kiss to his forehead.

“go to sleep, giant baby.”

[bssaz97]

RWBY Post AU: Training Pains Part 3

|Day 1|

– Rose Household –

[05:59 AM]

Rowan lightly snores as he sleeps on his comfy bed, covered with warm blankets. Turning only slightly as to find a more comfortable sleeping position.

..........

[06:00 AM]

BBBEEEEEEEEERRR!!!!

Rowan screams in shock, jolting up from his bed into a sitting position and extremely alert.

Whitley puts away the air horn he was holding, storing the item into his coat, “Well it’s about time you woke up.”

Rowan rubs both of his eyes, blinking confusingly at the man before him whispering, “Wha, Mr. Whitley? What are- What are you doing in my room?!”

The young boy was still recovering from the shock of being so abruptly awakened in the morning. However, his new tutor gave no instance of remorse, “I seem to recall telling you not to be late. So I decided to wake you up myself.”

Rowan was baffled at his tutor’s words, “But you said to wake up at 06:00!”

Whitley rolls his eyes dismissively at young Rose’s objection, “It was a figure of speech. It means you should have been up and ready to start by now.”

“Then why didn’t you ju-?”

Rowan is interrupted by a bundle of clothing that was tossed at his face. He looks down and upon recognition sees that it was a set of his clothes that were picked out for him.

“We’ve wasted enough time. Get dressed and be down in five,” Whitley tells the boy sternly and begins leaving the bedroom.

Gasping, Rowan quickly sits up on his bed and starts to change out of his pajamas to get ready for his first day of training, “Yes sir! ...Can I at least-?”

“You’ll eat when we’re done,” Whitley shouts from behind.

The boy whined silently, but continued getting prepared for their first day.

—————————————

Rowan, now fully awake and clothed, opens the door to the back of his home where he sees Whitley standing by a nearby tree. It looked like he was marking something on the bark of the tree.

“You’re here, good. Did you get plenty of rest last night,” Whitley asks but never turned around to face the boy.

“Uh, yes sir,” Rowan tells the man.

Whitley nods then turns to face him, “Good, you’ll need it. Today’s lesson is simple, we’re going to be going over the importance of Aura in battle.”

Rowan blinked, raising an eyebrow, “Huh? But Mr. Whitley I know about Aura though from class.”

“Oh really? Well then, enlighten me on what you know about Aura,” Whitley said.

“Ok... Well, aura is the embodiment of one’s soul. It can protect us from mortal wounds and it empowers huntsmen with the ability to use a unique ability called a semblance. With this we’re more able to combat the Grimm,” Rowan recites to his tutor.

While listening to Rowan’s understanding of Aura, Whitley began pacing back and forth while a smirk formed on his face. However that look on his face took new meaning when the Schnee began shaking his head.

Whitley chuckles, “‘...we’re more able to combat the Grimm.’ So that’s your honest belief then?”

“I... guess so,” Rowan replied.

Whitley sighs, “Well that certainly explains a lot.”

Rowan tilts his head, “What do you mean Mr. Whitley?”

“Unfortunately what they’ve been feeding you children is that Aura is a magical force field that gives you superpowers.... Of course they’re not entirely wrong but they sure did take the liberty to sugarcoat the absolute hell out of that mess of an explanation,” Whitley said to the young student.

“So you're saying that there is more to aura than what they’re teaching us?” Rowan asks.

“Precisely. Granted I never attended a combat school like yourself so I have little knowledge on how gradual your education progressing. But I believe we shouldn’t have much challenge getting you ahead,” Whitley stops pacing to face the boy.

Rowan quickly perked up at that, his eyes shining with excitement and hands shaking, “Really, you mean it?!”

Whitley motions the boy to settle down, “Rowan, you’re at ten again. Go to a four.”

Rowan does as he was told and returned his hands to his sides, “Sorry.”

“Now onto what we will be doing today,” Whitley began instructing.

Rowan clenches his hands together in excitement. He was certain that whatever this training was going to be, it would certainly be epic!

“You... are going to stand in place and focus on maintaining your aura to its maximum state until the sun reaches noon. I’m going to watch you from by that tree over there,” Whitley said, pointing towards the tree he was standing by originally.

Rowan’s hands fell as did his excitement, “....Wait, that’s it?”

Whitley nods in confirmation, “That’s right. So get your aura all the way up and keep it up for as long as you can.”

Rowan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Keep his aura up all the way to noon? That was the easiest thing in the world! Too easy!

“Mr. Whitley I thought-?”

Whitley cuts the young boy off, “Also you can’t speak until noon. Just focus on breathing and keep your aura up. No words.”

Rowan's mouth was gaped, this was how his training would be starting? By just standing in place?!

Rowan sighs, ‘...well I might as well get started,’ he thought to himself.

—————————————

[ 5 Hours Later ]

Rowan admits that he may have spoken too soon about the ease of this task. While he remained in place, Rowan began to feel his body ache. After standing in place for a few hours without moving an inch his limbs became tired and were almost on the verge of collapse. It seemed that the only reason he was still standing was because he was focused on maintaining his aura, which was beginning to become harder and harder to maintain. Who knew focusing on your Aura was so tasking?

Just hold it... hold it... you can-

“Bah!” Rowan cried his knees giving out and fell on his butt.

Whitley looks up from his scroll to see his student has fallen over, “Well it’s about time.”

Rowan pants tiredly, “I’m sorry Mr Whitley... I did my best, but I- ‘pant pant’ couldn’t hold it ‘pant’ ...any longer... I failed.”

Whitley stares curiously, “Failed? Who told you that you needed to pass this lesson?”

“...wait what?” Rowan said, looking up at the man confused. “But you said-?”

“I told you to focus your aura until noon, yes, but this particular task wasn’t designed for you to pass,” Whitley explained.

“Wait so ...this was a test? For what?” Rowan asks.

Whitley sighs, but starts to explain further, “I wanted to see how long you could endure continuous aura application. Most kids your age and skill would’ve dropped after one hour. You, however, managed to stay on task and keep your aura which means either of two things.”

Whitley walks over to the boy and tosses him a towel. Rowan catches it in his hands, looks up to his white haired tutor before rubbing the towel on his face, cleaning off beads of sweat that had been staining his face.

“One, it means that your natural aura capacity are quite high. While not a rarity, it does speak volumes of the amount of control you have over it at such a young age,” Whitley said.

Rowan looks at his tutor surprised, “Really? But I barely held onto it for the last one and a half hours.”

Whitley shakes his head, “That only means you were able to push through the strain your aura and body was undergoing. You were training your aura as if it were muscle, an extension of yourself.”

Rowan looks down at his hands with curiosity, “Extension of myself? But I thought that only the semblance was meant to be an extension of ourselves?”

Whitley nods his head, “True, a huntsman’s semblance does indeed derive from oneself. But remember, aura also comes from within. It’s often said that aura is to be a finite source of power that ranges differently from person to person. I do not believe that to be the case. I have come to believe that aura is an infinite pool of energy that exists in every living being, and that only those with powerful wills can fully utilize it. Those that can accomplish this are often unstoppable in the battlefield.”

Rowan stared in awe after listening to Whitley’s words. They seemed to have a sense of clarity but also depth that he never heard from the man before.

“Whoa...” Rowan mouths.

“Or two, it just means your dumb and don’t know when to quit,” Whitley commented.

Rowan frowns, “Hey!”

“Either way, you did well. How did you feel?” Whitley asked.

Rowan groans, “A bit tired. But I think I’ll be ok.”

Whitley hummed in approval, “Good. Now get up so we can start the next part of training for today training.”

Rowan stood up on his feet, “Ok, I’m ready!”

“Very well. Your next task is... to take this flag away from me,” Whitley instructs as he began wrapping a handkerchief around his neck.

‘Ok Rowan, you can do this. All you gotta do is be smart about this, do a fake out, reach for that handkerchief and step away before he notices. A piece of cake,’ Rowan told himself mentally.

Rowan moves toward his tutor, fakes a reach for the handkerchief with his left hand but pulls it back quickly. With his right hand going for Whitley’s neck, Rowan gets caught off guard when the man simply grips his right forearm.

‘Uh oh...’

“You have made a grave mistake.” Whitley chides as he uses his other hand to grip Rowan’s shirt.

Rowan swallowed, “I figured. WWOOOAAAAH!!”

Whitley lifts Rowan above his head and tosses the boy to the ground. Rowan, with his aura still recovering from his earlier training, experienced the literally meaning of being ‘tosses like a sack of potatoes.’

Rowan groaned painfully as he laid down on the ground.

Whitley crossed his arms as he looks down at the young Rose, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Rowan groans, “Regretting following through...”

“That is true, but I don’t seem to recall telling you to take a break. Now... get up,” Whitley said.

Rowan groaning continued as he got up from the ground, ‘What have I gotten myself into?’

—————————————

[ 4 hours Later ]

Mother and daughter are seen walking up a trail that leads back to their home, after a long day out taking care of some errands and getting groceries in the process.

“Hey Mom. How do you think Rowan’s training is doing?” Summer asks her mother.

Ruby looks to her young daughter and smiles, “I’m sure they’re doing fine. Whitley is a friend of your Auntie Yang and Auntie Weiss’s little brother. So I think anything they’re doing is standard and–”

“AAAH!!”

*THUD!*

Both mother and daughter stopped mid-stride, having heard the loud cry in close proximity of their cabin in the woods.

Summer swallows in worry, “That sounded close to home. You think-?”

‘Darn it Yang!’ Ruby mentally cursed.

The two Rose women made a beeline to their house to investigate what caused that scream. Once they arrive and quickly place their things down, they go to the back of the house and see the young boy and tutor in the back opening. The man looked unharmed, standing wearing a handkerchief scarf and the boy very much on the ground with an excess amount of dead grass and grime covering his face.

“Get up. You’re not done yet,” Whitley said to the boy.

Rowan groans, straining to getting back up.

Ruby’s eyes widen and her face pales, her motherly instincts kicking in and her only focus at the moment is her child who is still struggling to get up off the ground. With one foot in front of the other she strides towards them.

Whitley turns his head taking notice of both the mother and daughter’s arrival, but fails in anticipating the atmosphere, “Oh you’re both home already? How was your day?”

Ruby looks at him, giving him a menacing stare, “My day? Whitley what have YOU BEEN doing?! Rowan, are you ok?!”

Quickly the young mother runs to and cradles her child’s head.

Whitley's eyes widened upon realizing how this situation was making him look, so he tried to defuse the mother’s frustration, “Ruby listen, he’s fine, I didn’t throw him that hard.”

“Fine? Fine! Look at him! Does he look fine?!” Ruby shouted angrily.

“A bit dirty but that’s about it.”

“Wha- Whitley, I can’t believe you! I thought you were training him, not beating him up!” Ruby continued to shout.

“Technically-”

“AH! I don’t want to hear it! I can tolerate many things Whitley but I won’t tolerate this! ...Whitley I want you to leave,” Ruby said.

Summer tries to interject, “Mom-”

“This isn’t a discussion Summer,” Ruby quickly tells her daughter, then turns to look at Whitley with narrowed eyes, “this contract is over. Now please leave my-”

“Not yet...”

Rowan shook himself from his mother’s grasp until finally he’s able to break from her hold and roll himself face-down on the ground. Despite feeling his aching arms begging him to stop, he raises from his sides and uses them to partially lift himself by upper torso which feels thousand times more heavy.

“Rowan, what are you doing?! You’re hurt!” Ruby said as she tried to reach out to him.

“No!” Rowan yells.

Ruby halted, staring in shock at her son who raised his voice at her. Sounding both frustrated and sad, almost pleading.

Slowly his legs slide up, despite lacking any strength. Even so he pushed on.

“I-I’m... n-not... d-done yet,” He groans.

The boy manages to raise himself to rest on his hands and knees. His breath is hoarse and he feels his heart racing through his ears. Rowan closes his vision was gets blurry, perhaps from all the times he was tossed into the dirt.

He closed his eyes and all he saw was Peri with his smug face, but it wasn’t just his face he saw. Rowan saw the faces of the three Beowolves in the forest, looking to make easy prey of him. Then he saw the faces of everyone in class that looked at him in pity. He knew not all of them were doing it intentionally, but he didn’t want them to look at him like he was hopeless!

Rowan needed to be better before his next match, he couldn’t afford to hold back a year. They were all supposed to be going to Beacon after completing their fourth year of basics. Summer, Liena, Joanna and Blaze. They are expecting him to be there!

Rowan slowly stands up, groaning out, “I-I’m... not... done...!”

Slowly Rowan walks towards the male Schnee, who remained standing in the same spot he had for four freaking hours! After nearly falling under his weight three times, Rowan finally made it close enough to where he could grab tight hold of his tutor’s shirt. So that Whitley couldn’t throw him again, and to have something to hold onto because he could barely stay standing for so long.

One of his hands lets go of the man’s shirt slowly and reaches up until his fingers had met and were firmly gripped onto that damned handkerchief. Then in an eased motion, Rowan removes the handkerchief off Whitley’s neck.

Rowan began laughing with glee, “Hehehehe! I did it... I finally got... that stupid... flag...”

His eyes drift close as he begins collapsing.

Whitley catches the boy with one of his arms, then carefully lifts his weakened form in both arms.

“Well done,” he whispered.

—————————————

Rowan stirs upon awakening and quickly regrets the action as he still feels slight pain in his limbs, but not as significant as before. He slowly looks around the room and sees that he is back in his room and on his bed and not outside on the ground. What happened?

“Rowan?”

He turns to his left where he sees his twin sister’s face, her eyes puffy and dry. Something had made her upset, and judging from how her expression turned from worried to annoyed, it seemed to be directed at him. Rowan was going to ask what was wrong but she beat him to the punch by using her finger to block one of his nostrils by poking at his nose really hard.

“You stubborn dummy! You had us all worried after you passed out! Why did you push yourself so hard?! Do you want Mom and me to have a heart attack?!” Summer cries out.

“Summer! Can’t breathe!” Rowan shouts, voice becoming nasally due to the poking.

Summer ceases her poking, then glares at him angrily, “Well I’m sorry, I’m just the one who was worried sick, thinking if my twin brother died during his first day of training!”

Rowan’s eyes widened in shock, “Wait what? I almost died?!”

“Yeah dummy! You were barely standing yesterday and you almost stopped breathing three times while you were passed out!” Summer yelled.

‘Whoa... Mr. Whitley really wasn’t holding back was he?’ Rowan mentally said to himself.

“Why do you always gotta be the one to make me worried sick? First with the beowolves, now this, can you ever not get into situations that will not let you almost die in the process?!” Summer cried out, her eyes began shedding tears again.

Rowan looked at his sister guiltily, “Summer-”

“Look I know you’re trying your best. So just.... don’t be a dummy and die before you get to Beacon. Because if you do, I’m gonna kick your butt!” Summer said while dropping her head down, her bangs covering over her eyes.

Rowan didn’t know how he was supposed to react to his twin’s statements, on one hand she was correct to call him out on his reckless abandon for his safety, but on the other hand neither of these instances did he ever predict would happen. So how would he calm his sister down?

“Summer, look at me,” Rowan said.

Summer reluctantly looks up, wet streaks falling down her eyes.

Rowan asks, “How long have you known me for?”

Summer looked at him with confusion, “What? What kind of a question is that? I’m your twin sister, I’ve known you my whole life.”

“And how many times have I ever left you behind or hanging?” Rowan asked.

“Not....many times, ‘sniff’ or any times I think,” Summer said.

And when I make you a promise?” Rowan asked her.

Summer sighed, “Rowan...”

“Come on Sum, what do I do with all my promises? What mom taught us to do?” Rowan asks his sister.

“...We keep them,” Summer answered finally.

Rowan laughs, “Good. So when you hear me say, ‘I promise to not die on you or leave you all by yourself,’ you can always trust that I will alway be here for you. That’s because...?”

Rowan pats her head, then uses strands of her hair to wipe away her tears.

Summer does her best to laugh, wiping away the remainder of her tears, “You’ll keep it.”

Rowan nods, “Yep, so don’t expect me to die or anything, anytime soon. Kay Sum? I’ll make it through this training and be up to par with the rest of the class in no time.”

“Hmm right,” Summer sniffs before she pauses, remembering something important, “Oh... yeah, I just remembered something.”

“What’s that?” Rowan asks, raising an eyebrow.

Summer pokes her fingers while looking to the side,“Well, while you were unconscious, Mom kinda... fired Mr. Whitley as your tutor.”

“She WHAT?! Why didn’t you say that before?!” Rowan questioned.

“I was under a lot of emotions at the time! I’m sorry it wasn’t the first thing on my mind,” Summer said defensively.

Rowan groans, “I gotta talk to Mom-Ah!”

Summer reaches to help her brother, “Easy Rowan! You’re still pretty banged up. Also why do you want to talk to Mom?”

“Why else? To change her mind,” Rowan tells her.

“Wait, you want to keep Mr. Whitley as a teacher? Why? All he did today was toss you around,” Summer asks him.

“That’s not the point Sum, I know it doesn’t make sens but there’s a theory to his teaching. He’s methodical in his own way and was testing me today,” Rowan said.

“By pommeling you to the ground?” Summer asked unconvinced.

“...Yes? Look, I know it sounds really backwards, but he’s my last chance at passing this class, so if I have to get my ass whooped in order to get better then so be it. But to do that, I need to convince Mom to change her mind,” Rowan said urgently, trying to get off his bed.

“No need, kiddo.”

The Rose twins directed their attention towards the entrance of Rowan’s room to find both their Aunt and Mother standing outside. The former smiling at her niece and nephew, the latter looking at her son with concern.

“We heard a good bit of your conversation from here,” Yang told her niece and nephew.

“That we did,” said their mother.

Rowan swallowed, “Mom, I-”

Ruby raised her hand, causing Rowan to stop what he was trying to say and pay attention to his mother, who looked to want to say something.

“Rowan, I know you want to do anything that could help you get better in combat class, but I also want you to be safe while doing so. Training this way... being toppled until your black and blue, is not the way to go about it. I’m only looking out for your safety,” Ruby said to her son.

Rowan lowered his head, guilt swelling inside his stomach after seeing his mother’s concerned face.

“But it’s not Mr. Whitley’s fault...”

Ruby sighs, “Look I know you’re trying to defend him but he went-”

“It’s mine mom!” Rowan said to her.

Ruby looks confusingly at her son, she didn’t understand what he meant but decided to hold her tongue to hear what he had to say.

Rowan takes a moment to find the words he wants to say, “...Mr. Whitley wanted to stop after he saw that my aura was going into the red, he insisted that I stop and that I was done for the day. But I didn’t stop.... I kept pushing myself, kept charging him for nearly two hours because... I didn’t want the day to be wasted for nothing! I wanted to win! I want to prove to those other students that I have just a right to be there and not to feel like I’m some.... loser!”

After finishing, Rowan is left panting, his face red from all the hidden frustration that had been plaguing his mind. He now waits with nervous trembling, fully certain that his mother’s reaction will be very disappointed now that he has metaphorically spilled the whole can of beans.

He was partially right.

“Rowan, who’s been saying that you were a loser? Is it another student?” She asks.

“Peri Phelps,” Summer said.

“Summer!” Rowan yells.

Yang's eyes widened in realization, “I remember that name, he’s that student you were sparring with the other day wasn’t he?”

Rowan sighs, “Yeah, he was.”

“Rowan why didn’t you say anything to me about this, if he’s bullying you then the teacher has to be notified,” Ruby asks her son.

“It’s not that he’s bullying me mom, he’s just a competitive jerk who thinks he’s the best in the class and likes to rub his victories into other’s faces, just because his semblance gives him a better chance at winning,” Rowan tells his family.

“Yeah,” Summer said angrily while pouting.

“Well either way, training like the way you did today isn’t going to help you get better,” Ruby chided gently.

“Okay...” Rowan tells his mother.

“Which is why Whitley is going to make sure you’re being properly trained and not pushing you’re self too harshly,” Ruby adds.

Rowan perks up on listening to her, “Wait really? You’re not firing him!”

Ruby wasn’t finished, “Only because today’s mishap was your doing and he’s a family friend, kinda, so I’ll give him a break. But I expect you to do everything he says, understand?”

“Yes mam!” Rowan said happily, giving a nod and toothy smile.

“Good, now get some rest, both of you,” Ruby tells her children.

“Yes mom,” Summer said.

With that all three female members of the house began leaving Rowan’s room to allow the boy to continue resting. Ruby stood by his door and told him goodnight.

“Goodnight sweetie, sleep tight,” Ruby said.

“Goodnight mom,” Rowan returned.

Ruby whispered, “Also, don’t think we’re done about this Peri issue...”

“Yes mam,” He nods.

“...and make sure to hit him extra hard, ‘kay?” Ruby adds with a smirk.

Rowan laughs before smiling, “Yes mam.”

– End of Part 3 –

A/N: I wanna give special thanks to @thatorigamiguy and @tanakaclinkbeard for both being Beta-Readers and giving me feedback on this post. I spent A LOT of time on it and it’s thanks to them I was able to get it done.

Also thanks to you, everyone, for sticking with me, I know I haven’t been too active on this blog for awhile, but hopefully I can get back into the groove of things.

So I hope you all enjoy this post. Have a great day and be good people :)

[stevenuniversetanzanite]

Second First Meeting (Sally x reader)

I got some dialogue from my directing class about a junkie named Sally you all can guess who I thought of. I think the dialogue is from an Australian tv or web series called Blue mountain. Anyway, I adapted the story so I could work in into a story.

As this is a one-shot for the sake of the story, I am forgetting time is a concept that applies to humans. You get to choose if you age like a normal human or you were turned into a vampire and are immortal. Whatever makes your experience more enjoyable- however, you have to age slightly after the leaving part.

This is a lot more dialogue than I normally do. So I hope it isn't too bad. Also, I've written for sally. She is a bit ooc but I feel like it works because none of it is set during the main duration of the season. 

The story starts here:

"What are you doing?" You asked your girlfriend who you ran into unexpectedly on your way to a deal.

"Nothing" she said in a daze.

The woman in a leopard print tried to stumble past you, having places she needed to be that didn't concern you. She was happy until you interrupted her euphoric dream of a world her lasted dosage of drugs gave her. She'd found the stash in your shared apartment, knowing how to do it from when you showed her long ago when you first sold her drugs. Years had passed since your high school days, the two of you had fallen further into the world of junkies and quick fixes in order to feel something.

A month ago, you both promised each other you'd give up drugs and make a life for yourself. You'd finally seen the damage it had done to her, you and the people you sold drugs to. Most people you couldn't care about, but her, you'd do anything for. She was no longer on the 'beginner' stuff, moving on to higher doses, more frequent use and stronger drugs. She outdid you nowadays with her intact. You had lessoned your usage, the reason you got into the scene, economic problems were now fixed, you were wanning your dependence on the substances. Who knows, soon you might be able to get a normal job.

When you made your empty promises, you had the full intent on giving up that life, her fingers were crossed behind her back. You'd half kept your promise, you still sold on the side, but you kept telling yourself that you'd stop soon. You just needed to get rid of the stock. You said that last batch. A part of the newest batch was what was giving your girlfriend her high.

"What are you doing here?" You were a quarter of a block away from where you dealled, standing outside the Hotel Cortez.

"I just came to visit some friends. I just wanted to get out of the house!"

"What, so you come here? What are you here for?" You spot her bag, having a hunch as to why she was there, you snatched her bag to search it.

"What am I supposed to do? Sit at home and watch Days of our Lives all day?!" Sally yelled as she attempted to get her bag back, but you push her back.

You throw the bag to the ground and ask, "You using something huh? Show me your arm." You grabbed her arm. She yanked her arm about, but you held onto her with a firm grip.

"Jesus Christ Y/n, you're a stupid arsehole! Let go!" Sally gets out of your grasp and walks over to her belongings and began to off.

"Where you going?" You went after her to stop her from leaving both you and the situation, catching the handle of her bag and holding her back. "Why don't you show me what's in the bag."

"There's nothing in the bag!" She cried. You glared into her eyes, scanning her for anything that would tell you that she was lying. You couldn't see anything. You went to your next guess. "You up here screwing some guy? How the hell am I supposed to trust you? How am I supposed to trust you Sal?"

"I hate all this shit! You're so bloody jealous!"

"Junkies....You're all bloody junkies!" You were no better and the fact that she didn't point it out, still astonishes you. She was two caught up with the personal attack to come up with something better. You'd never called her a junkie before though you both at one point met the criteria.

"I'm not a bloody junkie!"

"Well you're an addict. What's the difference?"

"I know what I am, you get it right."

"You know what? You whatever the fuck you want. Go blow some dude for all I care."

"Okay, I will."

"Good, have fun."

She took your advice but when she came home, there was nothing left. All your stuff was gone. No note detailing where you'd gone. The apartment was trashed, and all her stuff was shoved into a box near the front door.

She never saw you in all your favourite spots or the alleys you used to deal. Your existence was erased from the world, the only evidence that you existed was her memories. Maybe you were an hallucination the whole time?

Ever since she sought out potential partners with a desperate need to be loved. It was fine at first. She pretended to forget you, found her true path in music and even got a job composting for her friends one of her favourite musicians. She found herself needed more then drugs, she never realised that you, yourself was a drug to her, the love you gave her, she craved it and for a fraction of a moment she found it in the duo. They two gave her a new life from one she was trying to escape. You had helped her with her initial problems, a bad experience in youth and these two helped her to forget you if only your face.

The night you disappeared from the world you decided to go into the Hotel Cortez for some drinks. A bold lady sat reading a newspaper at the reception desk. She peered up from paper to give you a once over. Your hands were stuffed in your vinyl coat to keep them warm. You made your way straight over to the desk and asked how much a room was in your sweetest sounding voice you could muster up. After being told, you pulled out a wad of cash and handed her the amount. She gave you an odd look at the amount you carried on you. You payed her no mind. Waiting for her to fetch you the key to your room before asking her about the status of the bar, "Is the bar opened?"

Once checking out your room and tidying yourself up you headed down to the bar. The same woman form before was now behind the bar tending to it. "You don't have much staff?"

"Not many people stay here at once."

"That's a shame, it's a cute hotel. Very vintage."

Liz asked what drink you wanted then went to prepare it. "So, what made you decided to stay with us, Y/n?" You told her your name when you reserved your room.

"Had a fight with my girlfriend?"

"Got kicked out?"

"No, I just don't want to go home and face her yet." The woman, who's name you learned was Liz handed you a drink.

You spoke to her for hours, admitting things that you'd told no one. She gave her outsiders perspective on your situation and to put it simply, maybe Sally wasn't the right girl for you. You wanted to move to grander places and your half success showed progress. You would have to cut all ties to that lifestyle in order to move on completely. You mentioned to her a business propose a family member offered you that you were considering taking up but didn't because you knew you wouldn't be able to do it with your current life. It involved you moving across the country which you couldn't afford before, but if you sold your apartment and used the money for plan tickets you might be able to make it work.

You didn't know if the offer was still available, Liz told you all you had to do was call up the person and ask. She offered you encouragement in doing so and even offered you a free drink if you did it.

Your family member was ecstatic that you accepted the offer, preparing a space for you when you arrived. Said member knew of your struggles and was willing to help you out of your rut, as well as offer a job helping with their fashion line. You were a business person, you knew the trade which was what made you a great drug dealer to begin with, it would be a different scene but all you could do was hope you were a fast learner.

You spent your last week in room 64 trying off loose ends so you could start anew.

Years later Sally found herself trapped in the inner walls of a hotel, haunting the grounds, finding pleasure in killing whomever she pleased in whatever way she like. Her choice, as with most things, was with drugs. Her face was permanently stained with tear tracks darkened by her runny mascara.

It was no longer the 80's. Decades had passed, and you found yourself back in Downtown LA. You were there on business, one of your companies provided funding for Will Drake's fashion line for years. You saw potential in his works and helped him by providing resources. His newest fashion show was exclusive, but you managed to easily get a spot. You'd heard that the fashion designer had a new 'face' for his brand. You'd never met the person face to face, but the name was familiar, Liz Taylor. It must have been a common name. You were surprised when you discovered Will Drake wasn't the one to request for your invitation but Liz. You were happy for the invitation none the less. It didn't strike you until you entered the newly renovated hotel Cortez who Liz Taylor was.

There were very few invinations and all phones and cameras a band making the whole show more intriguing. The models were unusual, the variety was a present surprise. One woman sent you back into your past. You audibly choked catching the attention of a few of the people around you. You brush them off and watched on.

At the end of the show, all the models walked out to show of their outfits one last time. The models lined the edges of the runway. The model resembling your past love stopped in front of you. She looked out into the far back of the audience. Her eyes glaze over you and she stiffens, tilting her head slightly in confusion but trying to act professional. The audience abrupted in applause, you delayed for a moment before following in the others lead. You maintained eye contact until she had to turn to leave the stage. You hit the open bar as soon as you could, wanting to forget what just happened. You'd downed a couple drinks before you heard the familiar voice from beside you.

"Hello there," the carbon copy purred.

"Hello," you squeaked out before downing another drink. She smirked. You stared into her eyes, wanting to quiver under the wait and power of them. "Drink?" you said pointing to the alcohol.

She chuckled, before getting some for herself. "You seemed mighty fascinated in me while on stage. I thought I would return the favour."

"Well, in that case. How do I look?"

"Not bad. A bit older than I'd usually go for."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Not nearly. More experience."

"I guess you could say-"

"L/n-" your attention snapped form the timeless relect in front of you to the new face of Will Drake but an old face to you. What was with this looking vintage place and the past. Sally reacted to your surname even going so far as to repeat it.

"Liz, I wanted to congratulate both you and Drake on an amazing show. However, I never expected any less." You said shaking the woman's hand. "I assume you'll pass on the praise to Will Drake yourself as he's become recluse from the public eye."

"Of course, L/n. I see you met one of our models. I hope Sally isn't give you any trouble."

"Sally?" Your eyes darted back to her. A look of bewilderment on your face. How could it be? Liz's eyes dart between the two of you. You both shared the same expression. She knew she was missing something. "What's your last name?"

"Mckenna."

"Oh fuck- Shit. How is it you? Oh god."

"Y/n? You got old."

"You haven't aged a day."

"You two know each other?" Liz asked.

"I was her dealer-" "She was my girlfriend-" you spoke at the same time. Liz understood immediate, remembering your tale from decades prior. You'd called her Sal the whole time you were talking about her, it could have been short for anything. From all the stories Sally had spat out in one of her angry drunk sessions Liz had all the clues to piece it together sooner.

"Was I nothing to you?" Sally asked. "I should have guessed when you abandoned me-"

"Sally, quiet down-" some of the guests turned to when hearing her yell.

"No- don't you dare talk to me-"

"You can yell at me all you want, just not out here." Here eyes followed yours catching the stared of the crowd around them. She had to stop herself from snapping at them. She didn't want to ruin Liz's show.

Even though she had all this anger built up, from your general presence being back a time she had recently gotten over. She'd wait until your both alone to tear you into shreds.

"We can go to my room." Sally grumbled before grabbing arm to tug me off. Liz warned her not to harm me as she was better than that (also it would affect business). I told Liz I was used to 'her type' which enraged Sally more. Your ex dragged me all the way to the elevator before tossing me inside and selecting the level. "You're lucky this isn't the last show they had here." you didn't know what she meant by that. Was she a different person then? Had she changed since then? You knew she was implying something but weren't exactly sure what.

By the time she reached her destination she'd didn't want to slit your throat at the sight of you.

She pulled you to room 64, wait this was your room, why was she taking you to your room? She pulled out a key and opened the room. You entered before her, noticing all your belongs in the same place as they were normally along with the random keyboard in the room.

"You want to explain why you have the key to my room?"

"It's my room."

You pulled out your key and showed her it. "Liz?" she asked. You assume she meant the receptionist.

"Iris, I believe or at least she was the one who gave me the key."

"They must have run out of rooms and started evening our rooms away."

"Why would they give your rooms away if there yours?"

"Long story."

"Make it short."

"I don't have to answer to you."

"How about a question for a question?"

"Fine."

"You answer mine first."

"I don't think you'll believe me-"

"That's not an answer. I don't have to believe you; I just want the truth."

"What was your question again?"

"Why did they give away your room if it's yours?"

"Right. I'm dead."

"You're right, I don't believe you."

"Told you."

"Keep going."

She rose her brow. You didn't believe her, yet you wanted to keep listening. "As we are dead and can't move on from this place, we haunt this hellhole."

"There's more ghosts?"

Sally nodded. "That's two questions. My turn, why did you leave me?"

"I don't know a good answer do that." Sally was going to make a snappy comment, but you kept talking. "Short answer, I wanted more, and my life was holding me back. I was torn between the opportunity of a lifetime and life with you. I got an outsiders opinion and they helped me figure out I couldn't have it all and be with you."

"Were you happy?"

"For a bit. It was hard at first with rehabilitation and learning to fit into a life I hadn't had in years. It's different on the other side. I had something holding me back to my old life, a loose end I never resolved."

"What was that?"

"You. I never told you I left. I felt guilty for not telling you. Always wondered what happened to you but never dared to find you."

"Scared I'd pull you back in?"

"No, I was scared I made a mistake."

"You did."

"I don't think there was a good option. I'd lose either way."

"What about you? What have you made of yourself?"

"Other than a ghost? I perused music."

"Good for you, you were always talking about doing that."

She ended up telling her whole life story up until getting stuck into the hotel. She spoke about how she was making music with Patti Smith in the 1980s, but she got fired from the project. She went on about how her addiction got worse and with the loss of you and abandonment issues were enhanced. She mentioned how she was working with Patti Smith for a while at the time before you left but never mentioned it because she wanted it to be a surprise. In 1993, she was a songwriter and had a threesome one night with her friends, a couple of musicians. Sally injected all of them with heroin and in a bizarre drug-induced psychosis, developed the idea to sew all of them together. Her friends died in the process. She was trapped for three days whilst lying trapped next to the corpse of her friends. While being tortured by something she called an 'Addiction Demon.' You didn't understand why she was telling you about this even, but you listened nevertheless. For a moment, it seemed like old times, you were entranced by every word. She told you about being murdered in 1994 when a guy, iris' son, died from an overdose, much to Sally's indifference. Iris pushed her out the window. She goes on to say, now the two where okay. Iris ended up introducing Sally to the internet and showing her a world she never thought she could have again.

"Did you move on?" She was unsure as you didn't mention anyone in your tale of the past, while she went into detail- mainly because she couldn't harm you, so it seemed like the second-best option. She hoped it made you jealous.

"Couldn't." Your answer was short. You didn't want to go into depth about your lack of interest in anyone besides her, so you lied. "Too busy."

Once the two of you were done, you sat in silence. No more questions among the two, closure on both your ends. So, what now?

Part 2

Considering doing a part two as 2 people on wattpad wanted me to. However I have no idea where to go from here. 

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Myka and James Stauffer rehoming a disabled child--What more can you do?

I wrote this once, but then it wouldn’t post. So this is a second time, excuse it if it’s not as eloquent as it should be. I’m an international adoptee, so we’re more affected by this case than most because according to Reuters 2013 more of us are “rehomed” than others. Because of this, I’ve also been following the case since 2010. So all of the people “shocked” by this terminology needs to listen to adoptees. Over the last 10 years or so, I’ve been collecting resources and things YOU as non-adoptees can do to help. This has included listening to Birth Parents, Adoptees, Adoptive Parents, Former Foster Youth, and basically using my Anthropology training to collect a list. I have to remind you that going after the Stauffers alone isn’t enough. We have to go after the systems that enabled them to do this in the first place so this does not happen to another child. I get it. Vigilante justice feels good. It’s short, sweet and you get results and to see the face of the individual. A system doesn’t have a face you can gloat over. But if you really do care, you’d go after prevention and long term change, otherwise your outrage--and I’m including all of those youtubers I had to sort through (which was painful at best, but so goes advocacy), is empty. You only care about your own self-satisfaction rather than the long term cause or the people involved themselves. (My anti-Cancel Crew objections are along this line of thought.) Since I’ve been asked what this looks like and re-pasting it over and over is a pain, I decided to centralize the post with the levels of justification for the action. I get this post is longish, but take the part you need to make that change you want to advocate for.

If you want to take parts of this post, you can take the links without credit, but not the specific words. And don’t take credit for work you didn’t do.

What is Rehoming?

The often legal, but immoral act of placing a child without oversight of the state or government by placing them on the internet or doing backyard deals. We adoptees have been battling facebook pages for years to shut it down. I am not naming them, because I don’t want to encourage the behavior.

This is separate from dissolution of adoption. This is done with home study and legal oversight.

Why is this a Problem?

Adoptive parents go through a long, long process call home study this can take anywhere from a few months to a year. This has evolved over the years. Since this specific case involves international adoption, I’ll do a run down of the evolution of how home study has evolved in the International adoption community. I know it’s dry and boring, but it’s important to understand why the Stauffer case is egregious and why I am holding Holt responsible.

Home study used to be, “Are you Christian?” as done by the Holts. To be clear, social workers and his translator at the time objected to this. His reasoning? He thought all Christians are good people. (Though if you check the qualifiers for genocide by the UN, this is loosely on the list.) Adoptees were lucky to even get half a page.

This resulted in children being put into sex trafficking rings and child slavery. Social workers and Adoptees legislated against the Holts and the restrictions went up. (The whole list of immoral, yet not illegal crimes the organization has done as a whole, is a whole other story. I know it backwards and forwards as an adoptee with dates and countries since I’ve been in the adoptee community since roughly 1999.) This took 20 years from the first children in 1940′s and 1950′s. The home study in the 1970′s was still thin, but the amount of abuse cases went down. By the 1980′s, there was pressure to actually care about the children, so ESWS (one of the Korean agencies) and the other agencies in Korea started pushing for more extensive home studies (at the behest of Adoptees). The packet and requirements were thin. This included things like checking the financials of the family in question. Giving the parents language lessons, and then a packet usually about an inch thick. They would also get family statements and recommendations. A social worker would come and check the safety of the home. By about the 1990′s the packet has increased, and psychological evaluations started to be put into place. There were lists of books added to the list. (I asked Adoptive Parents to help me with this.) These were “suggestions” but no one tested if the prospective parents read them. So the packets given were about 6 inches deep, with the books about a foot. The in-class studies, several honest Adoptive Parents called “laughable” there was no race training at all and most of it was hanging out.

By the early 2000′s, they started to finally let parents of color adopt in larger numbers. (I know) The rehoming had gotten far more decent. The psych evaluations got deeper. They started to exclude criminal activity, do background checks on the parents, and do deeper psych evaluations, requiring deeper studies. But the Adoptive Parents I talked to said they were not getting the support they needed. The agencies weren’t listening on what they needed to parent their child. This is about the time I started collecting a wishlist and sending it to agencies. As far as I’m connected, nothing has really changed since then. The problem with rehoming is that it sets us back to 1950′s rules. All of this progress that Adoptees, Social workers, and well-meaning Adoptive Parents have fought hard for is done in an instant. There is no home study and the former parents get away with it because Adoptees and Foster Kids are not protected by the same laws that children from birth are.

What does this have to do with the Stauffers?

The Stauffers, a few years ago, decided to adopt a kid from China. They are social influencers. So they asked to fund their child’s adoption. They opted to have a child with special needs and by reports “checked 99% of them.” They paid zero for the adoption, and then used him to boost one of their channels and Instagram follower’s accounts. Their channel boosted by a ton of money, such that they could move into a mansion, their “dream home”, go on several large family vacations, made off of publicizing his story for their own “disability savior” points. Some of the videos, however, were problematic.

He was later said to have autism, and was in speech therapy, by Myka who wanted to “save” money on him by bringing him to a cheaper therapist. Despite this, the channel grew.

Then suddenly the boy disappeared from the channel. After months of pressuring her, they released a video saying they had “rehomed” him. The internet was enraged by this and went after her and James Stauffer. They tried to push Myka to receive all the blame to protect James Stauffer’s channel. All of the videos of this little boy were still up and monetized. They came up with a petition to force all of the videos down. The monetized videos came down and a new petition started: https://www.change.org/p/youtube-shut-down-myka-stauffer-s-youtube-account?signed=true

I also started a letter writing campaign to the governor to make sure it was getting investigated. Everyone else posting about it was trying to go after Myka Stauffer, but I wanted legal change. With me and my network, we worked three days straight to finally get an answer and make sure that the boy they had adopted and “rehomed” was safe.

Is Rehoming New?

Internet Amnesia is real. No. It’s been happening to public knowledge since 2010.

There was the NYC case which got turned into a Law and Order Special Victims Unit episode: https://www.huffpost.com/entry/svu-shines-a-light-on-the_b_4735153

There was the Justin Harris case.

There was the Hart case. (They rehomed once and were able to adopt two more times.)

And if you didn’t think it was covered before then there is also:

https://www.today.com/parents/it-takes-more-love-what-happens-when-adoption-fails-918076

https://www.theatlantic.com/family/archive/2018/11/children-who-have-second-adoptions/575902/

https://mljadoptions.com/blog/adoption-rehoming-disruption-dissolution-20140520

I’ve been riding my own state to institute laws against rehoming, and they finally did it, after the Governor vetoed it once, and I chased him about it. You could be a person that does this too.

So What Can I Do to be a Part of the Change? Here is a PDF of the current anti-rehoming laws. Press for the ones in your state to be cleaned up/invented. https://www.childwelfare.gov/pubPDFs/custody_transfers.pdf Here's contacts for the city where they live if you want to make sure they get justice for him. http://www.delawareohio.net/agendas-motions-summaries-meeting-recordings/meet-city-council-2/ You can contact Governor Mike DeWine and ask him to do something similar to this law https://www.writing.ucsb.edu/sites/secure.lsit.ucsb.edu.writ.d7/files/sitefiles/publications/2010_Sho.pdf which would give Huxley 90% of the earnings in a trust fund and protect the other Stauffer kids: https://governor.ohio.gov/wps/portal/gov/governor/contact The petition to take down their videos is here (They shifted their channels, but still have Huxley's content up.): https://www.change.org/p/youtube-demand-the-stauffers-remove-all-monetized-content-ft-huxley-from-their-youtube-channel?recruiter=1095019618

There is a more strict petition here: https://www.change.org/p/youtube-shut-down-myka-stauffer-s-youtube-account?signed=true There is a federal law that's been in the works since about 2015, when the Justin Harris case broke. Langevin has been trying to get it passed. It has bipartisan support.  https://langevin.house.gov/press-release/bipartisan-bill-will-protect-adopted-children-rehoming He is the one that said that cats and dogs have more protections than adoptees or foster care youth have. 

https://willbrownsberger.com/rehoming-of-adopted-children/

Send them love and support for working on this for so long. I think if people really, really did care, they'd call their Senators and make sure they are supporting this bill (It has bipartisan support): https://www.senate.gov/senators/How_to_correspond_senators.htm

Why and How to Hold Holt Responsible

Holt wasn’t responsible for the placement of this young boy. However, he is still their charge. When they absorbed the other agency, they should have checked on their charges and made sure they were doing well. But they didn’t.

This seems like a mild crime in most people’s eyes, but case after case, their failure to give Adoptive Parents support and check on them has resulted in a huge list of them saying, “This is unfortunate.”, but then not changing their contracts and trying to clean up the system they perpetuate. Since they are the largest of the International Adoption agencies, they also could set an example, by say, not enabling people to adopt on repeat from them if they’ve rehomed a child. (Shouldn’t their records show that?) and creating a network of adoption agencies to prevent abuse and rehoming so the Hart case doesn’t repeat.

https://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/18/nyregion/chinas-adoption-scandal-sends-chills-through-families-in-united-states.html https://books.google.com/books?id=ABEoAAAAMAAJ&pg=PA224&lpg=PA224&dq=Holt+International+abuse&source=bl&ots=3tvNla8X2x&sig=ACfU3U00GO4BzWMLUnU9dnI_EYqy1VwilA&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwi546nirOvpAhV3HzQIHWTwCow4ChDoATAFegQIDBAB#v=onepage&q=Holt%20International%20abuse&f=false And this is the complete list: http://poundpuplegacy.org/node/6194

Their contact:

https://www.holtinternational.org/contactus.php

But what do I ask for?

I compiled this list with the help of Adoptive Parents who have dealt with Holt before.

- Psych evaluations to take out the Narcissistic people (though stop selling it as a Savior Project would also help.) - Check their parenting styles--some styles do and some styles don't work for adoptees because of the initial trauma. - Minimum Foster Care training.

Many adopters go the rehoming route because they believe the Foster Care system is broken and listen to the news. It is, but they should work with Social Workers because Backyard deals are less than that. Obama (no matter how you feel about him) suggested Foster Care training for all Adoptive Parents which is more rigorous than home study for most states (though this also needs revision). - Make them learn the language of the adoptee they are adopting for at least one year (where it applies and they would have to pass with a C or better.) This is mostly so they learn the cultural standards of the country and it helps cement ideas about socialization as well that is hard to describe otherwise. - Holt specifically forbids Adoptive Parents from contacting Foster Parents after placement--reverse that.  Adoptive Parents had to work around them and those that did had better outcomes for their child. Often the Foster Parents were eager to help. - Adoption agencies would be required with any international adoption to give a run down from the foster parents of some basics of socialization (for the country), and maybe some basic training. This would be interactive. (as supposed to the next item)

- Give a basic rundown sheet of things to help the child transition from standard socialization practices. How to comfort the child? What specific foods was the child eating? Is there a brand of detergent that was used in their original home? Where does the child sleep? What are their sleeping hours? What type of clothes do they wear? Things people take for granted and think are universal. Anthropologists and Foster Parents could help with this. - For parents taking on disabilities, they should be required prior to encounter the disability and meet more seasoned parents currently dealing with the disability in question--especially adoptive parents. So they can ask questions, network and really, really see if they can handle it. Don't take their word for it. - Adoptees, PoC, etc and any other diversity labels involved with the child should be required to be in close contact with them. i.e. not the internet. Basic race, etc training should apply and they have to pass a test.

-Check on the Adoptee after placement.

After Adoption care. Several APs said they would have really liked this, but then they were left in the dark. In fact their agencies gave them zero support. And the baby would cry and cry and they were totally lost on what to do. They were lost on which experts to ask, and who they could contact. This is unacceptable. Dogs and cats get more checks and aftercare than human children.

On the consequences end,

Child trafficking and Abandonment--Holt should press for those laws. APs that care are for this. They said, why aren’t there these laws?

Also any adopters that rehome would be banned from adopting again, and they would be added to a general blacklist and spread that information to other agencies.

Through this dissolution of adoption should be the key.

If they break the contract, you can sue.

Lastly, don’t believe you are alone. Your anger can make change. At least let your anger last long enough to make this change to the laws so we adoptees don’t have to hear next year how people are shocked yet again by another rehoming case. Be the change the world needs. You aren’t helpless.

[jjkpls]

The Squib (Harry Potter!AU #1) (G)

> genre : pure fluff

> pairing : park jimin x reader

> words : 4.5k

> warning : none

> Park Jimin (Slytherin, 6th yr) is in love with you, the hufflepuff squib with whom he shares some classes. To help you out with your ineptness in anything magic related, he comes up with a plan that doesn’t go… well, as planned. At least, he gets you at the end. (fluff, shy ball of sunshine Jiminie)

/The Harry Potter!AU Masterlist/

The room is so quiet, it's deafening.

Most of them are trying to not be too obnoxious. Jimin doesn't think it is out of kindness. They probably feel like your position is lame enough and they don't want to lose houses' points just for kicking a prey already caught.

But as the quietness weighs heavy on the atmosphere, he can't help but wonder if that wouldn't be easier if they would make noises. As if on cue, he catches from the corner of his eyes two girls he knows by face snicker loudly. You are bend over on yourself. You can't even hold McGonagall's stare now, as you try desperately to shake your wand into turning a mechanic pen into a quill. He wishes he could help you but he is too far back and if he is being completely honest, he hasn't practised this spell since first year. He's not even sure he could get it right on the first try.

These girls couldn't either he thinks as he throws their way a dark stare. One of them catches it and rolls her eyes, annoyed, but she stops chattering with her friend at least.

“I'll see you after class, ___.”

McGonagall says, sternly, while redirecting her attention to the whole class. You are so slumped over now, Jimin can hardly see the top of your messy head. His heart stings a little. It is not the first time it's happened. And it is not the first time he has witnessed it. You are a squib. He is not exactly sure why or how you were accepted in Hogwarts but it occurred. And since your first year, you've been struggling like crazy for all classes that involved the least amount of magic input. Transfiguration is probably the worse. McGonagall would always pick you and never let you off of the hook until she's made sure to make you question all of your life's decisions, in particular, the one regarding your presence here. Of course, Jimin has to be with you for this class. He's not too sure why, but he hates seeing you in this situation. Weird for a Slytherin, some might think. But he can't help it.

After class, he waits for you in the hallway for half an hour though he has a class to attend to as Taehyung thought of importance to remind him.

“I have something to do.”

“You're waiting for the squib ?” Asks Yoongi, sounding even more bored than he looks. Jimin wants to punch him. He knows he can't do so, so he makes sure to write down in the back of his head to not forget to place some voodoo fountain under his bed later.

“___. Her name's ___. And yes, I am.”

Taehyung and Yoongi share a glare. Eyebrows raised in surrender, Yoongi turns on his heel and starts walking away. He's not even walking towards their next class.

“You're still not going to talk to her ?”

Jimin frowns. He doesn't know if he'll talk to you or not. You're not out yet. And why do they care so fucking much? If he just wants to see you come out and not say anything to you, that's none of their business.

“Taehyung, fuck off.” Jimin simply turns his back to him, childishly. He knows he is ridiculous he doesn't need other people telling him. Taehyung, though, as always, doesn't take it personally. He pats him gently on the back.

“See you later, buddy!” Jimin smiles to himself. He's lucky he has those friends when he's acting all insufferable like that. Most people would have been done with his antics a long time ago.

He’s started being that way two years ago when Slytherins and Hufflepuffs started sharing classes. To put it simply, this schedule arrangement signed the end of Jimin's sanity.

At first, he just noticed you, like everybody else, because you were unable to come up with any spell in class. He could feel for you, as anyone with a heart would. But progressively, this innocent sympathy of some sort turned into a crush. Well, he's not sure that's a crush but that's what his friends call it.

He wouldn't say that he wants to date you. He's never really thought of it. But he does care about you. He does feel bad whenever he spends a whole class with you and doesn't even catch a smile of yours. He does find it more interesting to stare at your face during lessons and tends to do it more than study these days. And yes, he does think about you quite a lot outside of class too. Still... Would he call it a crush?

“___.”

You look up, surprised, as you close the door behind you. Jimin is walking towards you with careful feline steps, looking all smiles and soft eyes. Seeing his kindness makes you want to cry again. But you worked so hard on stopping the sobbings ten minutes ago -as McGonagall was awkwardly patting your shoulder- you won't allow yourself to start again.

“Oh sorry. You needed to talk to professor Mc-”

“Ah no, no. I am just... waiting.”

“Waiting ?”

Jimin nods simply. He's looking everywhere, unable to settle his gaze anywhere, fidgeting awkwardly on his spot. You're not sure what is up with him but you're way too late for your next class -which you are also failing miserably to- to attempt to figure it out.

“Ok. Well, I have class. I'll see you later.”

You wave with a thin smile, it's the most you can give right now. Jimin just shakes his hand back and remains there, waiting.

Well, maybe he has a crush on you and that's why he turns into a freaking dumbass in front of you.

The next week, Jimin literally hops to his seat as soon as McGonagall opens the door. She sends him a squinted glare. She can't remember the last time a student walked in her class so excited.

“Can't you look more obvious ?” A drawling voice groans, while its owner lets himself slump on the chair next to Jimin. The latter throws daggers at him but Yoongi just sighs. “I'm just saying. It's going to be weird anyway so don't look so suspicious beforehand.”

He could reply something but he's not sure what. It's one of this moment when Jimin can't remember why the hell he is friend with that guy. They've been hanging out since the middle of first year. Yoongi has been kicked out from his room by his other roommates -for being an asshole, he suspects- and Jimin being Jimin, he had to invite him to finish his night in his room. The other kids were pissed but Jimin stood his ground. At the time, he didn't know Yoongi was, in fact, an asshole and just saw him as a poor underdog or something. The temporary fix happened to turn permanent. It was pretty simple, Kyungsoo -his ex-roommate- left his place to Yoongi and went to the other room. Jimin had to learn to appreciate Yoongi over the years. Even though, he's never made it an easy thing to do.

Slytherins and Hufflepuffs walk in in a loud buzz of chatters, slowly taking their seats. Jimin searches the crowd for your silhouette. Even hidden partly by the other students, it's not hard to find you. As always, you're walking with your back bent, head hung low. You're sweating anxiety and dread.

But this time, Jimin is not sharing your apprehension. He's planned it all right and he can't wait for McGonagall to start her weekly torture session with you. He doesn't have to wait for long as she turns to you within the first minutes of the class, with the same request she had last week.

“Go ahead.” McGonagall encourages, after having set a pen on your table.

Jimin can only see the back of your head but he can imagine you staring at the little object as if it were a monstrous device ready to jump at your face. Next to his own leg, there's Yoongi's one, shaking up and down in a nervous bounce he's never witnessed before. Even Yoongi is apprehending it? Jimin can now feel the weight on his shoulders. You wouldn't know about it but he does. He does and he puts so much pressure on himself. He'd feel like he had failed you if this doesn't go right and you have to go through the hardship you always encounter, once more. He's always terrified to walk in the Great Hall one morning to see your seat empty because you would have been tired of the whole shitty situation and given up your place.

Therefore, he gets on his forearms and pushes on them to elevate himself over the rows of students in front of him. His friend is there, staring at you. She's chewing nervously on her lower lip, and he notices her wand missing from the top of her table. Jimin can't see her hands and guesses they're hidden under the desk, ready to do what she promised him.

He beams to himself, and to her even though she can't see him. He is lucky indeed. He's surrounded by the greatest, most supportive and helpful people ever -except for Yoongi, maybe, but the fact that he is nervous about you succeeding today hints that he might not be that much of a dick.

There is that deafening silence again. Everybody waits for you to fail terribly like you systematically do. Some have already picked up a book or late homework to occupy themselves with, assuming it will take most of the lesson as it usually does.

McGonagall raises a hand in the air, shakes gently her wand to demonstrate to you the right way to do it -even though you saw it so many times, you can see that stupid hand gesture in your fucking nightly nightmares at this point. You stretch your arm above your desk, shaky fingers holding into your short crooked wand, and slowly, focusing all your will in it, you pronounce with the clearest voice possible the words. You haven't even finished saying the last word that the mechanic pen is trembling on your desk to then turn into a beautiful clear-white quill.

There is a loud, general gasp resonating in the room. Everybody, McGonagall included, has their mouths open wide, eyes ready to roll out of their sockets as they watch with pure astonishment the transfigured object laying on the wood table. The professor, unable to hide a proud smirk, claps her hands elegantly before leaving your side.

“Wow. That was really good.” Mumbles Yoongi, eyebrows raised. It's the most emotions Jimin has ever witnessed on this face. But what makes it all so worth it is the expression drawn on your face. You're whispering animatedly to your friend, a grin stretching your pink lips from ear to ear, cheeks tainted with an adorable red blush. You look so happy right now, Jimin can physically feel his heart shaken by the view. “Perfect. Now we can get on with the next sort. You better pay attention to this one as I can guarantee you, it will be on your final exam...”

Jimin is the first one to get out of the classroom. He wants to make sure not to miss you.

“If you're that good maybe I should ask you to do it for me too.” It's Taehyung's low voice. He's walking out, an arm wrapped around the quiet Hufflepuff girl who saved your ass today. Jimin would get mad at him for being so loud if only he wasn't overwhelmed with gratefulness. He looks at his friend, eyes hidden in two thin splits because of the wide grin he's wearing. He shoots her thumbs up but she just shrugs and leaves quickly, obviously upset.

“Does she know I was kidding?”

“Yeah... I don't know. Maybe. She just doesn't like cheating.”

“She's so good at it though!” Taehyung chuckles, hands clapping like a dumb seal. “Seriously, even though I knew it, it genuinely looked like ___ did it on her own!”

“Shut up!” Jimin gazes at him with pure rage in his eyes. If Taehyung wasn't almost twice as big as him, he would have trapped him in a headlock, and have him suffocate to death already. He should purchase a second set of voodoo fountains, he thinks.

Taehyung doesn't have time to argue as you're walking out of the room, arms locked with your best friend. Jimin dismissed him with a rude gesture and decides to walk up to you. Why does he feel so brave today? Before he can even think of an answer, he realizes he's already at your side.

“___! Hi. That was awesome, earlier. I knew you could do it!”

His voice sounds weird, too jumpy and unnatural, his words are stumbling messily out of his mouth but you don't seem to care as you smile gently at him. The sweet blush from earlier is back on your cheeks. “Thank you, Jimin. I have no idea how I did it but-”

“What do you mean? You're a great witch! You're working so hard all the time, of course you'd be able to do it-”

Jimin can feel the back of his neck burning from a sneaky pinch. He turns to look at Taehyung who is shooting an awkward rectangle smile to the two girls.

“Well, well, well, loverboy, I think we have places to go to. See you later, girls. You did great, ___!” He grabs the shorter boy by the back of his robe and pushes him towards the hallway, throwing a wave to the two slightly confused girls. Jimin is overly pissed now. Trying to get himself out of his friend grasp, he mumbles coarseness for only him to hear.

“Did you really need to call me 'loverboy' for fuck's sake tonight I swear to God you're dead you fucking-”

“Jimin, you were so embarrassing though.”

That little arrangement lasted for a few weeks only. Jimin would spend his evenings sweet-talking his friend into executing all the spells, for all the classes, for you. It wasn't an easy task to do, by the way, as she hated cheating and would always get out of class, pissed off. She couldn't tell him 'no' though, like most people. Jimin is charming. He's also very kind and overall appreciated by everyone. It's hard to deny him anything. Therefore, she did it for a little while. Until she couldn't take it anymore. It's Taehyung who came to him to tell him that she was too uncomfortable with the whole situation, and didn't want to be mean, but seriously, it's not even a solution for you.

Jimin panicked after the break of the news. He stayed awake the whole night, burning all his brain cells into finding a solution. There's one thing that has changed since you started receiving help: you're not the only one who gained in confidence, he did too. He could talk to you now, between classes and even during free times. And as you felt less upset all the time, you would take the time and the effort to engage in conversations with him.

And god you were sweet. He could hardly handle it. For some reason, he felt silly before for liking you without really knowing why. Yes, you were cute but so many people are. That's not a very valid reason. The fact that he felt bad for you not being able to produce a spark from your wand, was even a worse one. But now that he's having all these little conversations with you, now that he's shared laughter, and heard you lose yourself in tales of your life, he has a great reason. You're incredibly sweet and so lovable overall. He can't help it.

Yet, his accomplice, probably the best witch of their year, the only one he could ask this favour to, doesn't want to do it anymore. And along with her help, she's going to take away all the improvements you two have made. He feels sick at the thought alone. After having perambulated for hours, he throws himself in bed, grabs a pillow and screams his soul into it.

“Yah!”

“shut up yoongi i'm sad” He mumbles, face still buried.

“I don't fucking care. I need sleep.”

“why you need sleep all the time you ain't doing shit”

“YAH! That fucking brat... Who d'you think you're talking to?!”

Jimin groans some more and Yoongi gives up on sleeping now. He turns in his sheets, facing his way.

“Don't you have at least one working brain cell in that annoying head of yours? Seriously...”

“Tell me what to do if you're that smart.”

“Ask that Weasley kid for one of his Scintillation potion.”

“Scinti- what? What even is that?”

“It's what weak kids use this day to pass exams. It's supposed to increase your magic flood or something. I mean, she's a squib, it might not wor-”

“Yes! YES!” Jimin yelps, jumping on his bed like an excited puppy. “That's exactly what I need ! You could have told me that four hours ago but well-”

“Whatever. I got you a solution so shut the fuck up now.”

“I'll let you sleep, don't worry. Thanks, Yoongi.” He whispers through a smile. Who would have thought that Yoongi would have been the one to calm his troubled heart?-

“Get yourself an Armotentia too, you'll need it.”

Certainly, not Jimin.

The thing about potions you can get under Hogwarts cloaks, and especially the ones used to cheat, is that they're not made by professional potion makers. They're made by stupid kids like Weasley who just want to make some pocket money by extorting it to poor students, and also wish a little bit to cause chaos whenever that's possible. So of course, necessarily, that back up plan had to abort.

After weeks of being so successful in most of your classes, you failed miserably during one of your Divination class. In the middle of the lesson, as everyone was looking in their teacups, the content of yours unexpectedly started to boil and boil and boil until spilling everywhere. You were about to call for the Professor when the ominous crow you've vaguely caught a glimpse of before, materialised itself out of the liquid and flew at full speed out of the cup and collided against the roof. Another followed, and another one, and another one again and again until the room was full of angry birds, flapping their wings and croaking in hysterics.

Students started running around, screaming their heads off as if they were being attacked by them Hitchcok's style -which was not the case. Eventually, the whole class has been evacuated in the hallways except for you who had to follow Argus Filch to Professor McGonagall's office.

Jimin learned the incident as soon as his class was over. Overexcited students were discussing in the hallway, spreading all kind of rumours that made his blood ran cold. He knew most of it was bullshit -informations' accuracy never survived Hogwarts' telephone game- but he still caught your name and he knew you were involved somewhat in the new drama shaking up the school.

Grabbing the first Hufflepuff he could get a hand on -them being Taehyung, fortunately- he asked eagerly for what had happened. His friend just shot him a defeated sorry pout.

On his way to Professor McGonagall's office, his insides are all twisting and his mind is running like crazy. He's determined to do the right thing. He'll knock on this door; he'll face the severe stare of the Headmistress; and he'll admit all his offences. He won't mention his accomplices, of course. He just hopes they won't feed him some Veritaserum because then, they'll be fucked. He knows what he needs to do and he's not even that moved by the thought of the consequences. He did what he did. He knows why he did it. They might not approve but he doesn't care much.

All he cares about is your reaction. You're in there. In some way or another, they're probably figuring out what happened and telling you.

The moment he enters the corridor, he sees you closing the door. He calls out to you and rushes to join your side. You look at him, surprised to see him there until it clicks.

“It was you ?” You whisper, unable to hide the bitterness from your tone.

Jimin bites on his lip. His heart is literally breaking. He can actually feel it as he acknowledges your reddish nose and swollen eyes. He made you cry.

“I'm so sorry, ___. I-I never meant for all-”

You shut him off with a hand wave and just turn on your heels, ready to leave without sparing him another glance.

“I really am, ___. I promise you. I'm going to talk to McGonagall, don-”

“Don't!” You hush him, rushing back to him, with wide eyes. He frowns, not getting it, but you're already dragging him out of the main hallway to a more secluded one. “They have no idea it's you, Jimin.”

“Still. It's my fault, I should be held responsible for it.”

“Is it necessary? They didn't scold me when they learn I wasn't aware of anything. They're just going to expel you.”

“Well, I would have deserved it.”

You can't help but hum in approval. He grimaces. He should have gotten that Armotentia potion. His cause is fucking lost.

For a while, none of you says a word. You don't even face each other. You're pretending to study a painting hung on the wall -that would have been more believable if only the characters usually hanging out there were actually present. He is pretending to be interested in a crack on the wood floor, even though, he's glancing at you from the corner of his eyes.

After some time, he hears you let out a long, heartbreaking sigh.

“Why would you do that, Jimin? I thought we were friends.”

He flinches, taken aback not only by your words but also by the pain he can hear underlying in your voice.

“Of course, we're friends.”

“Because friends plan pranks on each other to make them believe they can actually do something they're yearning for for years? To then take it all away like that?”

You're clenching your fists tight against your side to hold in the tears. It hurts him to notice it but of course, he's so aware of you right now, he can't miss the least tremble of your body. He doesn't know what to do. Everything is playing now. If he doesn't explain his intentions right, he's losing you forever. Now that he heard you put it that way too, he's not so sure the whole thing ever was a good idea. It's so obvious put that way. How could he have missed it?

“___, I'm so terribly sorry. I didn't mean to fool you into believing anything, I just- You were so sad and I just wanted to make you feel better. I didn't think about how you'd feel if you learned the truth, I'm really sorry.”

“How could you not ?”

“I'm a fucking moron, ___.” A thin smile draws itself on your lips. He's not even trying to denigrate himself to get into your good favours. He is just so done with himself.

“I'm a squib, Jimin. I'm supposed to struggle and probably never make it. You can't go around passing my exams for me. It's not really helping.”

“I know. I get it now. I'm sorry.” He says. His voice is all milk and honey. You decide you can't be mad at him for much longer.

“It's fine.”

“Is it?”

You nod, tempting a smile his way.

“So we're good?”

“Yes, Jimin. We’re good.” Finally raising his chin up, he faces you. He's shooting you his infamous timid smile now, the one where his front teeth end up biting lightly on his plump lip. Through your messed up face, you grin in return. Although you don't really have the time to worry about it because of the fond way he's looking at you. Why is he even looking at you this way? “There's one thing I don't get, Jimin. There was this other squib in Slytherin last year, and even Tae is failing Transfiguration class since year 2. Why didn't you do it for them?”

“Cause I don't want to date them.” You choke on air at that. He keeps on smiling, pretending to be cool with what he just said, but you can see the tip of his ears darkening. The more you stare at him, eyes wide and open-mouthed, the less casual he looks. “If that's rejection just say it but don't let me- like that. Please.”

You start laughing, wholeheartedly, a hand claps to your mouth when you remember you're in the quiet upper hallways of Hogwarts. Jimin just stands there, awkwardly. He still is unsure what it all means but he's smitten by your laughter. Maybe he hasn't lost all his chances.

“I had no idea you liked me, Jimin.”

Well, he thought he was being sly but apparently his technics were just totally ineffective.

“Thanks to you, I don't have any classes left for today...” You start again. Jimin groans playfully. If you two are going to do this, you'll have to let go of this debacle. “Maybe we should go do something.” You're standing in front of him, looking at him square in the eyes, with obvious suspense painted all over your pretty face. He knows it's time for his line but he doesn't know what to say. He knows you're teasing. He can tell now that you want it too but for some reason, you want to hear him say it.

“Do you wanna go on a date with me ?” He mutters hardly loud enough for you to hear. Wow, he can't remember the last time he's been so fucking shy, it's ridiculous. He attempts to hide his burning face under his hands but you're quick to grab one.

“Okay.”

“I didn't plan anything obviously so don't like- hate me if it sucks.”

“It's okay. I think I hated you enough for today.”

“Cool.”

“By the way, now that I think about it... Tae was hinting your crush quite obviously, wasn't he ?”

“Um.”

[the-bujo-princess-blog]

How to be a Valedictorian

Let's face it, we all have some goals for ourselves.

For some, it includes entering a college of their choice, or building a great business, or maybe even being the valedictorian for your batch.

In this post, I'll write about my own personal experience and the tips and tricks that I used in order to become the batch valedictorian in high school.

Let me just start off by saying that this post is in no way created for me to brag, but to be helpful and to give out practical advice.

With that, let's get started! :)

#1 Evaluate your motives.

Out of everything, this is probably the most important step.

Evaluate your reasons. You must be able to answer the following questions:

Why am I doing this? Why do I want to achieve that honor? Who am I doing this for? Will this make me happy--even for a short while?

For me, my main reason why I wanted to become the valedictorian for my batch was because I wanted to test myself. I wanted to know whether or not I can achieve something if I put my heart and mind into it. I wanted to be proud of myself.

And also, I wanted to do it for my parents and family as a token of thanks for all their years of support.

You see, once you figure out your own reasons, the whole process would be so much easier for you.

Since you know why you're doing this, you'd have the strength to fight the burnout, the stress, and the millions of obstacles that would come your way.

#2 Realize that it's all about strategy.

The education system is streamlined and can easily be manipulated. Remember this.

Figure out how your system works and play by its rules.

Each school is different. There isn't a specific guide for everyone, so you have to do some bit of digging and find out how they choose the batch valedictorian.

What's the required grade?

What are the extra curricular activities that would weigh heavily in your favor?

What classes should you take?

What's the grading system like?

What's the percentage of extra-curricular activities in your overall grade?

What are the activities that you could participate in order to boost your chances?

This also goes with each of your classes.

What's the teacher like?

How does s/he grade you?

What are the outputs s/he usually gives out?

Is your teacher fond of giving you essays, recitations, or homework?

To add, you can also talk to or even simply observe your immediate upperclassmen, specifically your previous batch valedictorian.

What are their qualities?

What groups were they active members in?

What sort of clubs did they join?

Did they participate in any inter-school competitions?

What subjects did they excel in?

How did they interact with their teachers?

It's not all about getting top marks for everything, so don't rush in and think that you just have to be a  study beast in order to get that spot.

Play by the rules.

#3 Allocate an hour to advanced studying everyday.

I wish I applied this sooner.

I only started this trick on my last year of high school, when I was aiming for this goal.

The thing is, if you want to be able to achieve something you'd never achieved before, then you should be prepared to do things that you've never done before.

Form a habit to allocate an hour per day to advance studying and reviewing your lessons for the day.

This seems tedious, but trust me, it's really rewarding to always be prepared for quizzes that might come your way.

Personally, my ideal time is 4 o'clock in the morning until 5 a.m.

And at 5, I reward myself with a little bit of Internet surfing and lazing around before I have to get ready for school.

You can pick out any time that's convenient for you and stick to it religiously.

#4 Hold yourself accountable.

It's easy to lose track of things and just slack off, but you're going to have to hold on until the end of the school year, at least.

When studying, it's better to have something that would make you accountable.

I used the Forest app, which is a simple app that abides by the

Pomodoro

technique wherein you have to concentrate for a certain amount of time, take a break, and get back to work.

What I like about Forest is that they provide an incentive for your hard work!

Be focused for more than 20 minutes and you'll be rewarded by having a full grown tree. Be distracted (answer messages, get off the app) and your tree will wither and die.

Until this day, I still use Forest whenever there's something that needs my undivided attention.

It also provides you with your statistics and tracks your progress for you.

While there are a ton of other productivity apps out there, I recommend using Forest as it is simple to use and it keeps the distractions at bay so you can focus on your end goal!

#5 Tell people about your goal.

You don't have to tell everyone, just a select few who you know will believe in you and help you throughout your year.

It will be lonely and tiring at times, so that's why you need your own support system.

Plus, it's also another way to keep yourself accountable. Since some people already know about it, it would only make sense to keep pushing on.

#6 Be an Active Participant.

Show up for stuff, and actually do your best. If you're a part of the debate team, then go for the championships.

If you're an athlete, then keep on practicing and joining in activities.

The school system rewards well-rounded students, so make sure you aren't only focusing on just your academics.

Do volunteer work and just get yourself out there.

Meet as many people as you can and form great connections.

Remember that life doesn't end in high school and you never know when you'll need certain people around you.

I know, breaking out of your comfort zone is hard. But since you have something that you want to achieve, don't let yourself just be a passive observer because if you don't put yourself out there, if you don't go after the necessary steps, then someone else will.

#7 Don't be competitive.

Never, ever, ever, ever compare yourself with others.

Don't compare grades.

Don't compare accomplishments.

Don't compare milestones.

The moment you allow yourself to look over others' path, you're actually keeping your eyes off your own lane.

There's no such thing as healthy competition. There will always be a part of you that would over think everything.

So, before that happens, just stop yourself.

It doesn't matter if someone gets a higher score than you on a certain quiz. It's okay. Just study harder and work on improving your previous scores.

Remember, the only person that you want to be better than is your old self.

#8 Set your standards higher.

 Before my final year of high school, I was content with my grades.

It didn't matter much if I had ten or less than ten mistakes. That was good for me.

But since I wanted to graduate as the valedictorian, I know I had to raise the bar higher.

I limited myself to less than three mistakes per exam, grade, or any other graded output.

Having a perfect score or less than three mistakes is the standard.

You have to set your own standards too, and don't settle for a mediocre grade bracket. Settle for the best because if you don't necessarily accomplish that, then at least your score would still be at the top tier.  

#9 Create your own visual board.

This isn't a must, but having an actual, visual reminder of what you want to accomplish would help you out a lot.

It would be a motivation on mornings when you don't feel like studying, or times when you're just so exhausted from everything.

If you're not the visual type, then just write it down or maybe even keep a recording. Either way, have a solid reminder you can look back on every day.

#10 Consult your teachers.

Don't be afraid to ask for advice, for clarification on topics that you can't fully understand.

Remember though, when asking for a subject-related question, you should make them as specific as possible.

You can't just go on saying "I don't know this topic. Can you explain it all to me?"

That only shows laziness and insincerity.

Instead, pinpoint what exactly is it that you do not understand and ask for their input.

People are always more than happy to help those who show enthusiasm and eagerness to learn more.

#11 Focus on your mistakes.

Prior to any major examination, you should go over all of your previous outputs: quizzes, tests, assignments, etc. and find out where you went wrong.

What was your previous assumption? How did you get the right answer for that?

Your mistakes will serve as a guide in prioritizing the topics you need to learn more about.

So when examination period rolls around, you won't have to read everything from start to finish, just the chapters where you commonly made mistakes

Strive to minimize your own margin of error.

#12 Take care of your body.

Eat well. Try to squeeze in some exercise throughout your day.

In order to keep up with your brain's hyperactivity, your body has to be physically fit and healthy.

Back then, my main form of exercise was walking all the way to school when the weather permits.

You could do some yoga, pilates, go for a run, or do whatever it is that you like doing. Just don't force yourself into completing an exercise that you don't like.

Exercising helps with your brain's functions and would actually aid you in your studies!

Also, eat nutritious foods such as vegetables and fruits. I highly recommend eating fish since it's proven to benefit your memory.

#13 Be humble despite your accomplishments.

Don't let anything get into your head. Keep your head down and don't think yourself above others.

Humility is always the key. After all, no one likes being around someone on his high horse.

#14 Pray

Before any examinations, always pray and ask for guidance to whoever it is that you believe in. Ask for a quiet spirit and gentle nerves. Know that you've done all that you could and the rest is up to Him.

So, these are all the top things that I can think of! I hope this post would serve as a guide for you in your journey! :)

[gettingreddietoo]

How To Make A Short, Angry, Low-key-Freaky Boy Fall In Love With Richie Tozier (Rated M)

Tag List: @richietoaster @yikes-tozier @cambarryshortcake @pennys-pet-kitty @starstrucknerdgirl @guacfinn @derrylossers @lastbeginning @bruisedtozier @blueboytozier @girlybcy @loser-hobbs @somethingsupergay @tapetayloe @finnwolfimhard @punkboytozier @grethanvibes

Sorry for the long wait! Here’s the first chapter, but I have most of it already written so don’t worry about me never updating again lol. Hope everyone enjoys! Feel free to leave feedback or things you want me to add in later chapters!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14310525/chapters/33018639

Or if you want to read it on here:

Thursday October 1st, 2018 -- 9:03 P.M –  Library EES

“HE MOANED?”

Eddie slapped a hand over Bill’s mouth, shushing him quickly and looking around the library in case anyone heard. He spotted one girl look up from her laptop and giggle. Eddie was now blushing furiously.

“Oh my fucking god, will you be quiet!” Eddie whispered angrily. He took a deep breath and pulled his hand away from his friend, who was now grinning ear to ear.

“I’m sorry, I just…so what exactly happened?” Bill shifted foreword in his seat, looking at Eddie with curious eyes. Eddie sighed, closing his eyes.

Thursday October 1st, 2018 – 7:00 P.M – Calculus 1, Mr. Zyneznegner

Calculus was the only evening class that Eddie had, and it was also his hardest. He sat somewhere in the back of the commodious classroom, the other students filling up the seats in the front row. Eddie set down his backpack carefully next to him on the seat. He pulled out all of his pencils and pens, separating the different colored highlighters in a neat, arrowed line. He smiled when they were all perfectly aligned and pulled out his heavy lined notebook. He crossed his legs and held his pen in his hand, glancing at the clock.

3…2…1, he thought. The classroom wooden door opened, and Mr. Z walked in, holding his briefcase. Perfect timing, Eddie thought.

Mr. Z was an old and slow man, and always gave all of his students a smile and greeted them. He opened a presentation of notes on the projector and started teaching. Eddie was furiously taking notes as the slideshow progressed, picking up different highlighters and making his paper full of neat marks and colors.

About thirty minutes in the class, the wooden door opened again loudly, and Eddie didn’t even have to look down to see who it was.

Ever since the beginning of September, this boy in Eddie’s class would come to Calculus late—about 30 to 45 minutes late. Since the class was only an hour long, Eddie wondered why he even bothered coming at all—especially since all he did when he came was sleep.

So now, the tall boy was making a large amount of noise as he walked up the steps, and he noisily walked over to Eddie and slumped down on the chair right next to him. This didn’t surprise Eddie; the boy had been sitting next to him since the first class.

Eddie wrinkled his nose at the familiar wave of aroma that hit him immediately; cigarette smoke and a hint of…strawberry flavored something? Eddie side-eyed the boy, wondering where the fruity scent was coming from. He saw an Airheads wrapper sticking out from his sweatpants. Ah.

Eddie turned back to the presentation, shifting away subtly from the boy. He took notes for a couple of minutes, and then waited.

3…2…1, Eddie glanced over at the boy. A loud snore came from his open mouth, head thrown back and legs spread widely. Eddie rolled his eyes.

The boy usually just slept through the class peacefully, never moving and staying in that same position until he heard Eddie getting up. But today, Eddie noticed there was something different.

A few minutes after the boy began snoring, he moved his leg to the side. And then to the other side. His foot stomped once on the floor, making Eddie jump a little. Eddie was now frowning at the boy, staring at his legs and wondering what the hell was going on. The boy was still asleep it seemed, but he was no longer snoring.

Eddie avoided looking at his face, not wanting to get caught staring. In fact, Eddie never really looked at the boy’s face—like really looked. The lack of light in the classroom didn’t help either. Every time he glanced, he only caught a mop of wild and unruly curls surrounding his pale face. Oh, and also these huge and ridiculous glasses. Sometimes the boy was wearing them, sometimes he wasn’t. Today, he wasn’t.

Suddenly, Eddie felt a head on his shoulder. He turned his face to be tickled with soft hair near his mouth. Eddie sputtered and blinked, immediately moving away from the boy. That only caused the boy to slump sideways even more. Now his head was on Eddie’s lap. Eddie wondered how the fuck he was still sleeping.

It also didn’t help that Eddie was wearing his red shorts today—the shortest pants he owned. So he felt the boy’s cold cheek on his bare thighs.

Before Eddie could smack the head on his lap off, he heard the boy breathe heavily. Eddie froze, muscles tensing. It sounded a lot like...

Eddie looked down at him cautiously. The boy was in a deep sleep, but his breathing had become ragged and breathy. Suddenly, the boy moaned. It was deep and raspy. And very, very loud. Eddie’s head snapped back up and saw a few heads turn back to him. He felt his face grow hot, and he dropped the pen from his hand.

Was this guy…having a wet dream or something? Eddie began to panic at the thought. And why did he have to have it on Eddie’s fucking lap of all places?

The boy let out another moan—this time, it interrupted the professor. Mr. Z stopped talking, and squinted into the back of his classroom. Eddie quickly jolted his legs up, trying to slam the boy’s head into the desk. He pushed he boy’s shoulders, feeling his heart beat rising at the eyes he felt on his face. It didn’t work. Now everyone was staring at Eddie, the poor boy who was blushing into a tomato. Eddie realized how the it must’ve looked—another boy’s head completely shoved down in his crotch area. Now Mr. Z was calling out to him.

“Boys,” he had a small smile on his face. “The class is almost over. After that, you are free to continue—“

Eddie shook his head violently. He heard a few chuckles from the front of the rows.

“NO! Mr. Z sir—it’s not—no I—“ Eddie sputtered, trying to talk, but his tongue was tying up. He still felt a hundred pairs of eyes on him, and he jolted up his legs again, this time a lot harder, and the boy’s head hit the desk with a loud bang.

Thursday October 1st, 2018 – 9:14 P.M –  Library EES

“Oh my god!” Bill was now laughing hysterically. He muffled most of his laughter with his mouth, and Eddie pouted at him.

“Okay, it’s not that funny,” he crossed his arms. “It was so embarrassing. I’m pretty sure the entire class thinks I’m some kind of exhibitionist freak or something.”

Bill laughed a little more before finally stopping.

“Wait, so why does he sit right next to you again?” Bill asked. Eddie shrugs, making a face.

“The fuck if I know,” Eddie says. “He’s an asshole. He probably could tell I wanted to sit alone and decided to mess with me.”

Bill smiles a little, giving him a look that Eddie can’t read. Bill raises his eyebrows and looks down, shaking his head a little. He leans into the armrest, looking eager again.

“Okay okay, and then what? What happened next?”

Thursday October 1st, 2018 – 7:46 P.M – Calculus 1, Mr. Zyneznegner

“Ow fucking shit-fuck—“ the boy was finally awake now, and was rubbing his head from where it hit the underside of Eddie’s desk. He slowly sat upright again, and Eddie was glaring at him, trying to ignore the people staring at them. The boy grimaced, still muttering out a string of curse words. He finally turned to Eddie and opened his mouth. He looked just as angry, and that only made Eddie angrier. He did not have the right to be the angry one right now.

“What the fuck are you doing?” the boy groaned in a scratchy voice. He grimaced and rubbed the side of his head again, which was now a little red.

“You wouldn’t get off my fucking legs!” Eddie yelled right back.

The boy groaned painfully, and Eddie only felt bad for a millisecond; he probably hit him a lot harder than he meant to.

“The fuck? Why would I be on your—” the boy’s eyes flickered down to Eddie’s lap, but then stayed there. He stopped rubbing his head, and his eyes focused on Eddie’s bare thighs. He raked his eyes up and down the smaller boy’s pale legs, licking his lips slowly.

Eddie blinked, suddenly feeling very self conscious. Why was he looking at his legs like that? He reached down and tried pulling the hem of his shorts down, but that action only caught the boy’s attention to the skin near his crotch. Eddie felt stomach jolt a little.

“Boys!” Mr. Z’s voice called out again, this time more serious and urgent. “Do you need to go outside or can I finish my lesson?”

Eddie snapped his head back to the professor. He blushed again and sat up a little straighter, picking up his pen.

“No sir. I’m sorry—we’re good.” Eddie’s voice was higher than usual—he was still so embarrassed from the entire thing. He thought about moving to another seat, but he didn’t want any more attention on him.

Eddie didn’t even look at the boy, but he could feel his eyes on him. He ignored it the best he could, taking neat notes and highlighting the important things. Slowly, he felt his heart calm down, and he let out a small sigh.

Mr. Z wrapped up the PowerPoint and claimed there was going to be a pop quiz on today’s notes. Eddie felt nervous and quickly scanned his notes, trying to retain any amount of information before he had to store his notebook away. When the professor began passing out quizzes, he started to close his book. But a nudge on his arm stopped him.

Eddie turned his face, confused. The boy seemed to be much closer now, and his face was just inches away from his own. Eddie blinked, eyelashes fluttering. He never really noticed just how dark the boy’s eyes were.

“Can I see your notes really quick?” the boy asked, the scent of strawberry Airheads with a hint of bitter smoke coming from his mouth.

Eddie knew he could be annoying and say something like ‘why sleep if you need the notes’, but he already felt tired from the day and was too nervous about the quiz to bicker. So he just rolled his eyes and shoved his notebook into the boy’s hands.

The dark-haired boy grinned at him, taking the book. He let his eyes linger on Eddie before quickly looking down to the pages. He had only a minute before Mr. Z was in front of them, holding the quiz in his hands.

“Come on, boy. This isn’t an open quiz,” he said, gesturing to Eddie’s book in the boy’s hands. Mr. Z handed the quiz to Eddie, and the boy just held one finger up to him, nodding shortly.

“I know, just hang on a minute, Z,” he said. Eddie paused, looking at him. The boy was quickly scanning the notes until he reached the bottom of the page. Then he closed the book and handed it to Eddie, who quickly shoved it in his backpack, giving him a glare. The boy only gave him a smirk. Mr. Z paused before leaving, eying them both with an amused smile.

Five minutes later, Eddie was stuck on number 1. He’s stuck on all of them actually. He stared at the words—none of it ringing a bell in his brain. He took all the notes and remembered knowing them at the time, but now…it was like it all fell out of his head. Eddie must’ve been more distracted by what happened earlier than he thought. He was pretty sure he zoned out for the rest of the notes, trying to calm himself down. All of the words seemed so familiar to him, but he just couldn’t remember the formulas that he’d written.

Eddie sighed sadly, slumping back in his seat. He played with his pencil and twirled it around, looking around the classroom. He noticed that the boy next to him was already done. His paper was on his desk, completely done. Eddie noticed a bunch of work and formulas written across the paper. His eyes widened when he saw the answer. He looked back at his own paper, rereading the question. The boy’s answer actually made sense. Except, Eddie didn’t know how he got it.

And the thing is, Eddie is not a cheater. No sir. He knows that cheating is wrong and immoral, so he is not a cheater. But he can’t help but scoot a little closer, subtly tilting his head and squinting his eyes at the boy’s work. After a minute of following his work, Eddie finally gets the answer. So he turns back to his own paper and scribbles down the work.

And it isn’t cheating—not really. Because technically, it’s his own work. The boy only did that work from Eddie’s notes. And also—Eddie understands why the answer is correct, so his job of learning as a student is fulfilled.

Eddie’s thoughts are interrupted when he hears a paper slide over. Eddie looks at the boy’s quiz, which is now at the edge of his desk, positioned closer to Eddie so he can see it easily. He blinks up at the boy in surprise, so sure that he was being subtle. When he sees the boy’s shit eating grin, he frowns. Apparently not.

Eddie stares him dead in the eye before reaching over and turning over the boy’s quiz so he can no longer see it. He turns back to his own quiz and ignores the boy’s low chuckle. He hears the boy lean over to him.

“Seriously? You’d rather fail than let me help you?” he whispers. His tone is amused, and Eddie can hear the grin in his voice. He glares at him.

“Yes, actually. I’d rather fail than take help from a horned up fuck-boy.” He huffs out and turns back to his quiz. He hears the boy let out an amused chuckle, making him even more mad. When the boy leans over again, he’s a little bit louder, making sure Eddie can hear him.

“Suit yourself. Besides, something tells me you’re used to taking the D.”

Eddie sputters, dropping his pencil at the sudden remark. He turns his head fully to the boy.

“God, can you just fucking shut up?” Eddie hates the blush that is still on his cheeks.

“God?” The boy places a dramatic hand on his chest. “Just Richie is fine, thanks.” He leans back against his chair, putting an arm over Eddie’s seat. Eddie stares at him.

“Richie?” he asks after a while. It’s such a stupid name for such a stupid person. Richie just smirks at him.

“That’s my name, baby, don’t wear it out.” He says it an awful Danny Zuko accent, combing a hand through his wild hair. Eddie flushes at the nickname, and kicks at Richie’s leg with his shoe. It’s childish, and it makes Eddie feel like he’s in seventh grade again. But Richie kicks back, and Eddie is sure he’s in seventh grade again.

However, people are now leaving, a flutter of papers sounding around the room. Everyone seems to be done, and Eddie curses himself for not doing his work. He quickly picks up his pen and starts reading the second question, moving his pen and trying to remember the formulas. To his surprise, Richie leaves him alone, lets him try to do the problems.

At this point, everyone has left the classroom—except for Eddie and Richie. Eddie pauses for a moment to wonder why Richie hasn’t left yet. He’d been done for a long time, and now he was just sitting there, every once in a while throwing an Airhead Bite in the air and catching it in his mouth.

“Boy—what’s your name?” Mr. Z’s voice breaks Eddie out of his concentration. He jumps a little, and hears Richie snicker.

“Oh—uh, Eddie. Eddie Kaspbrak, sir.” He sees Richie turn his head to him in the corner of his eye.

Mr. Z nods. “Look Eddie, you need to finish the quiz by the next minute. Otherwise I cannot accept your quiz,” he says. He looks apologetic. “Sorry, boy.”

Eddie feels his heart sink. He nods curtly. “Yes, sir.” He looks down again, not knowing how to even start the problems. He sighs and stands up. Richie stands up as well. When Eddie looks at him, Richie waves his quiz at him subtly with a raised eyebrow. Last chance, his face seems to say.

But Eddie frowns, and picks up his backpack, heading down the steps, unfinished quiz in his hand. He hears Richie follow a moment later.

As they both hand their quizzes to Mr. Z, Eddie adjusts the bag on his shoulders. He’s vaguely aware of the fact that Richie is just standing next to him, like he’s waiting for Eddie.

“Um, sir?” Eddie asks. Mr. Z looks up at him, a warm smile on his face.

“Yes, Eddie?”

“Um, can I come tomorrow for some extra help?” he bites his lip and looks down at his quiz. Mr. Z nods understandingly, but then takes Richie’s quiz and looks over at it.

“Sure, but uh. From the looks of it, your boyfriend could help you out—“

Eddie widens his eyes.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” he squeaks out. His face feels hot and begins to remember why Mr. Z would think that. He feels a long arm swing around his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Z. I’ve got him covered,” he says, taking one hand to solute at him like an army soldier.

Eddie glares up at him and shrugs off his arm, but Richie is stronger than he looks, and easily keeps his arm on. Mr. Z looks at them both with an amused smile, before nodding. Richie begins to walk them out.

Now that Eddie is a little less embarrassed, he suddenly realizes just how tall Richie is. He never noticed before because he never really stood next to him; after class, Richie would leave before he could even walk out the door, somehow magically waking up the exact second before the class was over. But now, with Richie side to side with him, Eddie guessed that he was at least a whole foot taller than him. It made something flutter in his stomach. He was 99.999 percent sure it was annoyance.

“What do you mean you’ve got me covered?” Eddie tilted his head up to look at Richie. He didn’t bother shrugging off his arm, telling himself that it was because he was already tired from the day.

“It means, Eds, I’ve got you covered,” Richie says simply. He turns them around a corner in the halls. The building is pretty much empty, their footsteps echoing a little.

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “My name’s Eddie, not Eds.” Richie hums, smiling.

“I know, but it’s my nickname for you.”

“Eddie is already a nickname.”

Richie looks down at him with a glint in his eyes. “I said my nickname for you.” Richie’s eyes look at the freckles on Eddie’s nose, like he’s just noticing them.

“Yeah?” Eddie says. “Well it’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

Eddie scoffs. “Ooh. Burn.”

When they push open the building doors, Richie lets go of him, tucking his hands into his pockets. He stands in front of Eddie, looking down at him.

“That shit fucking hurt, you know.” He brings a hand up to his head and dramatically hisses. Eddie is almost sure he’s pretending. But he can’t help but feel a little bad.

“Yeah, well. You wouldn’t wake up,” Eddie said defensively. “And everyone was staring at us, it was so embarrassing.”

Richie frowns. “Why were they staring? Cause I fell asleep on you?”

Eddie pauses. He realizes that Richie still doesn’t know what happened while he was, erm, sleeping.

“No… not cause of that.” Eddie inhales, suddenly feeling hot again. He nervously plays with his fingers again when Richie waits for him to elaborate. “You moaned in your sleep.”

Richie’s mouth dropped, and then began to double over, laughing in a loud, child-like manner. Eddie couldn’t help but smile as he watched the boy giggle. He quickly wiped it off when Richie opened his eyes again.

“It wasn’t fucking funny, you asshat. It looked really bad from everyone’s angle!” he pouted, remembering the embarrassment he felt.

“Yeah?” Richie was still grinning, ear to ear. “What did it look like?” he calmed down a little, watching Eddie closely. Eddie started walking again, making it obvious that Richie should walk with him.

“You know what it looked like. Don’t make me say it,” Eddie said.

“Hmm. Were you turned on?”

The question makes Eddie stop walking. He looks at Richie.

“Why the fuck would I be turned on?” he says it nonchalantly, but can’t help but feel a little nervous. He has no idea why.

Richie scoffs, like he can’t believe Eddie.

“Oh come on,” he nudges Eddie on the arm. “Handsome stud like me, moaning like sex god near on your dick—you had to have pitched a tent.”

Eddie laughs. A genuine, loud cackle. “You do not moan like a sex god. More like an old, sex deprived, homeless man.”

“And how would you even know how that sounds like?”

“Well,” Eddie shrugs. “Maybe I happen to like older men.”

“Oh really? You know, uh, I was held back in third and sixth grade. I’m basically an old man, son,” Richie wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at him, easily making his voice go an octave lower and raspier. Eddie shivers.

Eddie doesn’t say anything for a moment. He looks up at Richie, not sure if he’s joking or not.

“Were you really held back?” he asks.

Richie nods. “Yup. Bit of a trouble maker, me was.” He says it in a pirate accent, this one a little bit better than his Danny Zuko impression.

“No way. I would have never guessed,” Eddie says flatly. “What’d you do?”

“Well, in third grade, I trashed my principal’s office with my friends. And in sixth grade, I got in a really bad fight,” Richie said. “With the teacher.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Bad fight as in…bad fight or bad fight?” He emphasized the last words.

“Bad fight,” Richie answered. “All I remember is him accusing me of something I didn’t do, and me hitting him with a wrench I bought from home. He had to go to the hospital. Something about permanent brain damage.”

Eddie dropped his jaw. “You just randomly took a wrench to school?”

“No, I uh. I liked to scare kids when I was younger. I’d bring my dad’s weapons and threaten them with it. I’m not proud of it, but.” Richie looked a little ashamed.

“Wow. So you were a bully.” Eddie didn’t mean it in a rude way, but the way it came out was. But before Eddie could say something else, he saw Richie nod.

“I was. That was before I got diagnosed with ADHD. After sixth grade, my step mom made me get tested at the hospital; I guess she honestly thought I was like a psychopath or something. Apparently, I had gotten one of the lowest scores that the doctors had ever seen in a kid my age,” Richie said. “They gave me some medication for the impulses, and I’m still taking them to this day.”

Eddie looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

Richie smiled a little. “For what?”

“I don’t know. I just thought I should say that.”

Richie smiled. “Don’t say something you don’t mean, kid.” He brought up a hand and ruffled Eddie’s hair. Eddie quickly pushed him off, and then paused.

“No…I. I do mean it, though. I am sorry that you had such a rough childhood.” Eddie looked down at his shoes, watching one foot go over the other.

Richie peeked at him from the side. “You saying that with sympathy or empathy?”

Eddie looked at him, giving a tight smile. “Empathy,” he revealed. “My mom was uh, kind of crazy when I was younger. She wouldn’t really let me out of the house, and if I did, it was in hospitals. She was convinced that I was going to become sick like my dad, so she made me take a bunch of pills—placebos basically. But that wasn’t the worst part. She uh,” Eddie paused. He looked up at Richie again. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know you, so…I don’t want to tell you.”

Richie smiled, swinging an arm around his shoulder yet again. “Hey, that’s perfectly okay, Eds.”

Still, Eddie felt bad. “I’ll tell you someday. Just, not now.”

Richie smirked. “That your way of telling me you wanna hang out again, Eds?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “That’s not—this isn’t even ‘hanging out’.” Eddie would call it more of a small talk after class.

“Well,” Richie said. “Whatever it is--do you wanna do it again?” Richie isn’t smiling anymore, like he did with most of the conversation. He was completely serious, waiting for an actual answer. Eddie began to feel nervous.

“Um. Do you want to do it again?” he tried.

“I asked first.”

“This isn’t the second grade.”

“You’re right—a second grader would actually know how to answer a question.”

“Fuck you.”

“Eddie.” Richie raised his eyebrow. “Just answer the question.” He seemed desperate, like he really wanted to know Eddie’s answer. Eddie wondered if Richie hoped he would say yes.

“Fine. Maybe I do.” Eddie looked down at his shoes again, feeling a blush form on his cheeks.

“Yeah?” Richie smiled again. “Maybe I wanna hang out again, too.”

Thursday October 1st, 2018 – 9:38 P.M –  Library EES

“And that was it.” Eddie looked down at his lap. Bill gave him a skeptical look.

“Really? That’s it? You guys just walked away after all that flirting?

Eddie gave him an incredulous look. “That—that wasn’t flirting! That was just small talk between two classmates!”

Bill snickered. “Some small talk.”

Eddie glared, and then looked down. “Well, he did actually give me his number.”

Bill pouted. “See! You’re leaving stuff out!” He crossed his arms like a child. Eddie sighed exasperatingly.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…the stuff he said afterwards is too awkward for me to say. Even with you.” Eddie avoided Bill’s eyes.

“Oh?” Bill raised an eyebrow, mouth curling up into a grin. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

Eddie tucked his cold hands between his bare thighs, trying to warm them. “Trust me, it’s that bad. Anyways, it’s getting late. I should probably head back to my room. And don’t you have a Bio test tomorrow?”

Eddie shook his head. “Hey, at least you can study beforehand. I can’t believe my grade in Calculus is going to be an F because of that stupid quiz.”

Bill started to get up, along with Eddie. “Why didn’t you just look at Richie’s paper? I mean, he was literally offering it up to you. It could have been an easy A.”

Eddie scowls at him. “Bill, you know I’m not a cheater!” He huffs up his chest. Bill gives him a flat look.

“Eddie, we both know it’s not so much a cheating thing than an excessive amount of pride thing.”

Eddie pouted, knowing Bill was right. He would’ve continued peeking at Richie’s paper if Richie hadn’t caught him.

“Also,” Bill said after a little bit. “That kid’s a fucking genius.” Eddie blinked, confused.

“What?” he asked. Bill led them both to their dorm building.

“You said he scanned your notes before the quiz, right? And he remembered everything! I wonder if he has like, photogenic memory or something.”

Eddie suddenly blushed, looking down at his shoes. He remembered the end of him and Richie’s conversation. Bill noticed this.

“Why are you getting so red?” he asked, laughing a little. “Okay, there is definitely so much more to the story that you’re not telling me.”

Eddie gives him a pitiful look. “I’m sorry. It’ll be too awkward.” He simply cannot tell Bill what else happened. No way. Bill was definitely his best friend, but Eddie was too embarrassed to tell him.

When they reach their two different dorm buildings, Eddie leans up on his toes to hug Bill, promising to see him tomorrow. Eddie slides his key in the machine and the door opens. When he gets to his room, he opens the door quietly, peeking to see if his roommate is already in there. He is.

His roommate is a nice guy, but also kind of reserved. He was very polite, and always cooked Eddie breakfast.

In the two weeks they knew each other, his roommate seemed to be very clean and tidy—and Eddie could not be any happier. He hated mess; it made him feel too anxious. He liked things in a neat and precise way, and was so happy his roommate was the same way.

Eddie closes the door quietly behind him. He sees his roommate intensely studying his textbook on his lap, moving a little in his swirly chair. Eddie plops down on his bed in front of him.

“Hey Stan,” Eddie says. He places his backpack carefully on the floor against the wall. Stan looks up and smiles.

“Hey! You’re pretty late today. Did something happen?”

Eddie usually came back from Calculus class as soon as it ended, but today, he had spent that extra time with Richie and also Bill at the library. He was two hours late.

Eddie shook his head. “No, nothing happened. I just caught up with my friend. What are you studying for?”

Stan shook his head, annoyed. “Biology. Who the fuck gives a test in the second week of school?”

Eddie perked up. “Bio? Do you have it first class tomorrow?”

Stan blinks. “Yeah, why?” He looks down at his textbook again. Eddie opens his mouth to say something like, ‘Oh my friend Bill is in that class. You guys should meet!’ but he feels like that’s kind of awkward—like, forcing the friendship. So Eddie closes his mouth.

Besides, he knows that Stan already has a close friend. He doesn’t know who, but Stan can go hours on the phone with him. When Eddie wakes up in the middle of the night, he hears Stan’s soft voice on the phone, his friend ranting about something. It’s weird though; every time Stan replies to his friend, he sounds annoyed or bored. But Stan always calls his friend first, never being the first one to hang up.

Eddie can’t help but find that a little cute. Stan pretending like he didn’t like talking to his friend when he so obviously did. Eddie made a mental note to meet Stan’s friend one day. He wanted to see the person who made this quiet boy finally open up and talk for hours at a time.

Eddie yawns, tired from the day. He goes in the bathroom and changes into his pajamas, slipping into the warm comfort of his bed. He begins to flutter his eyes shut, remembering everything that happened.

He still felt bad about not telling Bill the rest of the story. Eddie opened his eyes again, staring up at the ceiling. He could remember the rest of the conversation clearly.

Thursday October 1st, 2018 – 8:09 P.M – Building AD, Parking Lot 3C

“Yeah?” Richie smiled again. “Maybe I wanna hang out again too.”

Eddie turned around. “I told you, it’s not even ‘hanging out’.” He began walking again. The two were now just walking in a circle in the vast parking lot.

Richie smirked. “You’re right. We could do other things besides ‘hanging out’.” His suggestive tone made Eddie bite his lip. He could feel Richie’s stare on him. Eddie mustered up the courage to look at him.

“How did you know I was gay?” The words are tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop it, remembering Richie’s earlier comment about him ‘taking the D.’

Richie snorts. “Oh baby, you make Chris Colfer look straight.”

Eddie smacks him on the shoulder, hard. Richie stumbles over his legs, laughing obnoxiously. Richie’s laughter catches in his throat, and then he’s quiet. Before Eddie can look over, Richie’s hand reaches out and just grabs his chin, making him look up at Richie. Eddie blinks, fluttering his eyelashes at the sudden contact, looking up.

And maybe it’s the lamp post light that shines down on them, or the fact that Eddie is finally really face to face with Richie, but Eddie sees how gorgeous Richie is. Richie’s eyes are the darkest and the most soulful thing he’s ever seen, his lips chapped and full, mesmerizing. There’s a stubble on his chin and above his upper lip—subtle, but there. Eddie peeks up at Richie through his eyelashes, kind of shyer now that he knows Richie is hot as fuck.

“That. Right there.” Richie says quietly. Eddie blinks, eyelashes fluttering. Richie breathes steadily through his nose, and they’re so close that Eddie can feel the air hit his face.

“That fucking-- Bambi doe-eyed look. It makes you look so…submissive. Too submissive to be straight.” Richie leans his head back, watching Eddie react to his words through half-lidded eyes.

Eddie feels kind of offended. Or so he tells himself.

“I-I’m not submissive!” he stutters out. He meant to say it in a ‘Fuck you who’re you calling submissive!’, but it came out in a more ‘Um, am I submissive?’ way.

Richie chuckles at him, moving the hand from his chin to the side of Eddie’s neck, holding him there.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, Eds. You’re like a feisty ball of fire filled with rage and spunk—but that’s in public, you know?” He places his other had on the other side of Eddie’s neck. “Things change in the bedroom,” Richie says. “Something about that intimate darkness and the feeling of exposed skin.”

Eddie’s breath hitches. He’s looking up at Richie like a curious child, completely captivated in Richie’s words. Richie smirks. He brings a hand up to Eddie’s hair, fixing some of the curls that drooped down.

“I think you’d change, Eds. You’d definitely be more submissive,” He brings a hand to Eddie’s cheek, rough fingers rubbing the soft skin.

“Yeah. I think you’d let someone do whatever they wanted to you,” he says lowly. “You’d probably beg for it, too. I can just see it, baby. Your innocent fucking eyes, those red lips shiny with spit, and those thighs—oh shit, those fucking thighs, Eds.” Richie’s hands twitch, like he’s trying not to reach down at Eddie’s ass. He settles for grabbing Eddie’s chin again, kind of harsher this time.

“You’d be a lot less ballsy,” Richie raises his eyebrow. “You’d know your place. And you know where that is?” Richie smirks, not waiting for an answer. “On your hands and knees, face down and ass up, waiting to get fucked like the good little bitch you are.”

Eddie can’t help it—he moans. His eyes flutter shut, and his mouth opens, letting out a soft and high-pitched moan. He bites his lower lip, feeling the blood rush up to the skin where his teeth are pinching. He’s breathing a little heavier, almost panting.

When he opens his eyes again, Richie’s eyes are almost predatory; watching Eddie’s face with an almost hungry look. But all of a sudden, Richie blinks twice, and his nostril flares once. He straightens up a little, and he lets go of Eddie. He turns around and starts walking again, this time placing a large hand on the small of Eddie’s back, pushing him gently to walk with him. Eddie follows blindly, still a bit dazed.

It’s only after they start walking that Eddie realizes how embarrassed he was. How the fuck did Richie make him moan just from his words? He also couldn’t believe the confidence Richie had; saying those vulgar words to someone you’ve never talked to before.

It’s quiet for a couple of minutes, and Eddie avoids Richie’s eye, clearly still embarrassed.

“So,” Richie clears his throat. “There was a lot of moaning going on today.” He’s grinning, and Eddie is blushing like a madman.

“Shut up shut up you’re so fucking annoying I hate you oh my god,” Eddie mumbles in a string of words, making Richie let out an amused chuckle. Richie stops walking and holds a hand out in front of Eddie.

“Hey, give me your phone.” Richie waits for Eddie to pull it out and unlock it, and then takes it in his hand, typing something in. Eddie looks down shyly when he realizes that Richie’s giving him his number.

When he gives him his phone back, Eddie’s staring at a blank iMessage Screen with the screen name saying—oh. Eddie glares up Richie, feeling his stomach flutter. The name that Richie typed in for himself read: Daddy.

“Seriously?” he asked unbelievably.

Richie flashed him a mischievous grin. “Hey, you said you liked older men! And here I am!”

“You’re like, barely two years older than me.”

Richie gives him a mock stern look. “Listen young boy, don’t be giving Daddy that attitude.”

Eddie can’t help the giggle that escapes his mouth. Richie’s eyes soften at the sound, watching Eddie with a look that Eddie can’t figure out.

Richie looks down momentarily.

“But no uh, I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve got you covered. If you need help with studying or have any questions, ring me, okay? Or also, if you just want to do the thing we did today again—you know, not hang out.” Richie ruffled the hair on his head. Eddie didn’t bother fixing it this time, and gave him a genuine smile.

“Thank you,” he said. Richie raised his eyebrows.

“Wow. He actually knows how to give a compliment.”

“Fuck you.”

“And he’s back.”

Eddie shakes his head a little, trying to hide the smile by looking down. Riche gives him one last look before turning around to head to his own dorm building. But Eddie can’t help but feel curious about something.

“Um, Richie?”

The taller boy turns around. “Yeah Eds?”

Eddie fumbles with his fingers. “What did you mean-- about my thighs?” he asks timidly, remembering Richie’s words earlier.

Richie’s eyes flicker down to them, and he smirks. He looks back at Eddie’s face.

“Let’s just say I’m glad I have photogenic memory,” he grins, looking at Eddie’s confused face. “Makes it a lot easier for me to, you know, rub one out.” He says the last words filthily, and grabs his crotch through his jeans shamelessly and thrusts his hips up once. Eddie’s face turns scarlet once again. Richie just laughs, turning around again.

“See you later, kid!”

Eddie feels his knees go a little weak.

Thursday October 1st, 2018 – 10:49 P.M – Dormitory 2A, Fifth Floor, Room 2069

Eddie sighs deeply, staring up at his ceiling. He’s completely exhausted—mentally, not physically. He can’t help but wonder why Richie wants to hang out with him again. Or maybe he was just being friendly. Richie had made a lot of sexual comments towards him, but Eddie felt like Richie wasn’t gay. Not really. He just didn’t have the vibe.

But then again, no straight guy would’ve said what he said to Eddie. So maybe he was bi? Eddie sighed softly, feeling his heart hammer harder with every moment that he remembered Richie’s dark and hard eyes, filled with rawness. He wanted to look into them again—no, he wanted to stare into them. For hours. For days.

Eddie felt his stomach churn. Why was he feeling this way? Only hours after meeting the boy? Can someone really have such an effect on you after such a short time? Eddie didn’t believe in love at first sight. Eddie’s eyes widened at the sudden thought.

Love.

Eddie could feel his mind racing way too fast for his own comfort. He rolled onto his stomach, forcefully closing his eyes, hoping that sleep would come quick and shut his overthinking brain down.

When it does, it comes right after the image of Richie’s face in his mind.

[profound-boning]

timestamp for A Kind of Magic; ~1790 words, deancas friendship (they’re 11), cole trenton sux, Hogwarts feels

As his first year draws to a close, Dean feels nothing but gratitude for the many wonderful things that have happened since September.

His flying skills have improved, he’s earned good grades (or, “top marks” as Professors MacLeod and Crowley are fond of saying) and had an amazing amount of fun.

Sunny afternoons by the lake, all-nighters in the Hufflepuff common room, and the best birthday party he could have imagined are at the top of the list, with his friends faces shining brightly in every memory.

The end of the year exams are similar to what Dean remembers from “regular school” but middle school was a lot different from Hogwarts. At his old school they did a lot of projects, used computers and iPads, and ate lunch in the cafeteria. Plus, he had to go home every day. Here, he gets to see his friends all the time and his classes are way more fun. Dean can do magic.

One thing that is the same is the bullies. At Dean’s old school they put kids in lockers or stole their glasses or pencils. Here, they’ll cast a spell to make your pants disappear or your books, or they’ll give you a treat that makes your tongue swell up.

Or, if you’re Christian and Cole, you stick to mean insults. Dean doesn’t believe in that “sticks and stones” mumbo jumbo anymore because words can be very hurtful.

Actually, Christian has gotten a tiny bit better. Rather, he got the talking to of his life from the professors and maybe even from his family because he’s backed off a lot. He doesn’t approach Dean at all, just glares at him or makes threatening gestures in the halls. Dean and his friends are careful to steer clear of the older Gryffindors on principle.

Cole is, unfortunately, not backing off at all and is a much more difficult to avoid.

It doesn’t make sense to Dean that Cole wants to pick on him when they’ve hardly interacted at all, but he’s accepted it. Everyone who matters is kind to him and supportive when he’s feeling down. So why worry about one jerk?

Dean would much rather focus on how many marshmallows he and Garth can fit into their mouths, what’s the craziest spell he and Kelly can find in their textbooks, and where else in the castle can he and Cas explore before the end of the year?

Cas seems to know everything about Hogwarts, which is due to a combination of having a magical family, being a curious and adventurous kid, having an equally curious and adventurous friend like Dean, and being a huge dork. Dean reminds him of that quite often, including this very morning while they are eating breakfast.

“Hey, dork, where should we go exploring today?” he asks, biting into an apple.

Rolling his eyes, Cas smiles at him. “I’m not sure yet. Let’s pick a random staircase again?” They could probably do this all seven years and not cover every single staircase, landing, and hallway in the castle—the way that the stairs constantly change makes it difficult to keep track of their progress.

“Sure thing,” Dean agrees, adding butter to his toast. “Hey, did you finish our Potions homework yet?”

“Yes,” Cas answers around the pancake in his mouth. “I had some free time,” he says defensively when Dean glares at him.

“You spend all your free time flying, not writing essays,” he says. “What gives?”

Cas laughs. “That’s true. I guess I had extra extra free time.”

Dean sighs heavily, pretending to be very put upon. “I guess I’ll have to suffer on my own, then. Waste away on this assignment.”

“You big baby,” Cas teases. “All you have to do is ask and I’ll help you.”

He leans into Cas’s shoulder. “Thanks, buddy. You’re a gem.”

“I know,” Cas says loftily. “Don’t you forget it.”

They eat some more before exiting the Great Hall, wearing jeans in celebration of the weekend. Cas is wearing a lumpy sweater—which should be weird considering it’s the end of May and fairly warm, but Cas tends to get cold more easily so it makes sense.

Their morning passes without incident, traipsing from one end of the castle to the other. Dean chose the stairs this time and led them up a tower they hadn’t seen yet. They look out of the windows in order to explore the outside of the castle and observe the grounds. Lots of people are taking advantage of the nice weather to relax outside, including Benny and a pretty Ravenclaw girl named Andrea. Dean hollers at his friend just to be embarrassing and Cas hits his arm.

“Dean! Don’t tease him,” Cas admonishes, even though he’s laughing, too.

“Just having fun. Benny’s got such a big crush on her.” Dean rolls his eyes. “I don’t get it.”

Cas looks at him. “He likes her. We’re all pretty sure she likes him back; all of us except Benny, that is. What’s not to get?”

Dean scrunches his nose. “Dunno, just doesn’t seem important at the moment.”

“Well, Dean, just because you’d rather be reading or practicing spells doesn’t mean the rest of us are nerds like you.” Cas backs away quickly to avoid Dean hitting him, pushing off the wall to keep running up the stairs. And back down again, still avoiding Dean’s grasp, they laugh and shout together.

“If you aren’t in class, or getting ready for class, or doing homework, or working ahead for class, then you’re eating!”

“Shut up, Cas! I’m not the one who ate two whole boxes of those jelly beans you love in one night!”

And this is certainly what Dean will miss the most over the long summer months. The feeling of being with Cas, being wild and free with him, laughing harder than he ever has before.

They’re hoping to get John to agree to let them visit each other at some point over the long break until September, but Dean isn’t hopeful. He tries to be as optimistic as Cas but it’s hard to think about the look on his dad’s face if Dean were to ask to go and stay at a magical home or to bring another young wizard into their house.

Therefore, he takes in every single moment they have left, embraces having fun with all of his friends with fervor. He can’t really spend time with them all at once, so he has to improvise. And at least there’s always the owl post.

He and Cas eventually decide to quit running around indoors. It’s really a beautiful day outside. Cas makes noises about getting out on his broomstick again while Dean contemplates the classwork that needs his attention. They agree that the Quidditch pitch is a great place to meet both of their needs and they set off for the dormitories to grab their things. Dean isn’t allowed past the stairs leading down to the Slytherin “dungeon” as he likes to call it just to tease his best friend, so he lingers in the hall. It only takes Cas a minute to change and then they set off toward the Hufflepuff common room. The old tradition of keeping the rooms absolutely top secret from other students has petered off, with friends often waiting for each other in the hallways, but the common room itself is practically sacred. It’d just be weird to have someone else in there—even the professors don’t go in unless there’s an emergency.

That means rounding the corner and spotting Cole Trenton standing in front of the barrels that make up what amounts to Dean’s front door is pretty freaky. He quickly nudges Cas and they silently back up out of sight.

“What the hell?” Cas whispers, looking angry.

“Dunno.” He shrugs. “What do you think’s going on?”

Cas peers around the corner and whispers, “I think he’s trying to break in, that little—”

“But why? What’s even the point?”

Cas chews his lip. “Could be nothing. But maybe he’s trying to pull some prank. You know what though? It doesn’t matter. It’s the principle of the thing. He shouldn’t just be trying to bust in there, it isn’t cool.”

“I agree,” Dean says, leaning over to look again. Cole seems to be stuck on precisely what to do to the barrels to get the door to open but it may not be long before he figures it out. “Donnie told me no one’s been down there for—”

He never gets to finish that sentence. Cole screams bloody murder the second the enchanted barrels react to his attempted entry, despite the fact that the vinegar is harmless. Still, getting absolutely drenched in the stuff can’t feel good. He must have tried a pattern at random and that caused the doorway to reject him harshly.

Dean and Cas lean on each other’s shoulders in order to laugh hysterically. When they realize Cole can hear them, they grab each other’s hand and run away as fast as they can. Still laughing, they duck into the otherwise empty Great Hall and double over.

“Oh my”—Cas pants—“I can’t breathe.”

“The funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” Dean agrees, breathless with laughter. “I’m getting a cramp.”

Cas wipes actual tears from under his eyes and snorts. “I can’t believe our luck to witness that. We’re so blessed.”

“Think it taught him a lesson?” he wonders.

Cas looks thoughtful. “One can only hope,” he finally answers. “But c’mon.” He tugs on Dean’s shirt sleeve. “Let’s head down to the pitch.”

“But I don’t have my homework,” he whines. Regardless, he follows Cas out of the Hall.

“We can come back for it later,” Cas reasons, “after the vinegar gets cleaned up.”

“Oh, I didn’t think of that. Should we tell someone?” Dean frets.

As they pass by the hallway in question, they observe Professor Mills laying into a soaking wet and smelly Cole with Professor Singer looking on quite sternly, arms folded.

“Looks like it’s all been taken care of,” Cas says breezily. “He’ll be cleaning that up with a toothbrush, mark my words.”

Dean laughs again just picturing that. Soon, the pair duck outside and are greeted by warm sunshine. Since Dean doesn’t have his materials to study, maybe Cas will help him practice his flying.

He looks over at Cas, still grinning broadly (probably also imagining that bully scrubbing the floors outside Dean’s common room) and leading them toward the storage unit for practice brooms.

Dean feels incredibly grateful that he met Cas on the train and, when Cas turns to hand him a broom with a toothy smile, he feels happy. Perfectly, indescribably, untouchably happy.