#just the fact that i have to be scared that maybe one of my classmates could bring in an automatic weapon and attack us bc he doesn’t like

[tiredg0ds]

i hate living in america lol

[ba9go]

bakugou katsuki finds you annoying (he can’t stop thinking about you) pt. 1

sort-of enemies to lovers with bakugou katsuki <3

read part 2 💥 part 3 (nsfw)

from the very moment you walked into the 1-a classroom, you set off a ticking time bomb in bakugou katsuki. he hated your guts.

it was early in the morning, with about 20 minutes till class started. bakugou was seated in his chair, leaning back with his eyes closed, when all of a sudden he hears this agitating, grating voice.

his eyes snapped open and flicked to the source of the sudden noise.

you.

you stood in the doorway, bowing and apologising refusely to fucking icyhot for running into him. bakugou took one look at your stature next to todoroki’s and huffed. ‘idiot walks into a wall and apologises. what a dimwit.’

bakugou watches as todoroki awkwardly but earnestly bows back at you with a murmured apology of his own. you pause mid-bow to shake your head, “no, no, no, this was entirely my fault!” and bakugou thinks he can feel his temple twitch when you start laughing. “god, i’m sorry, we just look so stupid right now!”

‘damn right you do, fucking morons.’ bakugou tears his gaze away from your bright smiling face and spams the volume-up button on his phone until ears (jirou) can actually overhear travis scott from his earphones and flinches beside him.

bakugou closes his eyes and sighs through his nostrils. it’s way too fucking early for this.

later that day, aizawa-sensei announces that you’d be joining class 1-a as u.a.’s newest transfer student, and invites you to introduce yourself in front of the class.

you stood beside aizawa and introduce yourself with yet another beaming smile. your bright eyes roam around the classroom from face to face as you address your new classmates, until they land on bakugou, who narrows his eyes and glares at you.

bakugou feels a strange sense of satisfaction, watching you stutter mid-sentence, and he thinks you’re such an idiot, but then your eyes quickly dart away to look elsewhere and bakugou is somehow even more pissed off by you.

so he grinds his teeth and tears his gaze away from you once more to look out the window.

the rest of the week goes smoothly for you as you quickly befriended the class. with the exception of one, everyone seemed friendly and warm and genuinely interested to get to know more about you and your quirk. likewise, you were just as curious and enthusiastic about getting to know your classmates. with the exception of one.

you ignored bakugou like the plague — just as he’d wanted, bakugou thinks. you’re an eyesore, the way you’re all smiley and giggly, all of the damn time. bakugou hates it, hates the look in your eyes, like you’re so damn happy and you’re somehow just always having the time of your damn life.

‘just another fucking weakling who won’t last.’

it doesn’t take bakugou a long time to realise that his judgement of you was entirely off. you were in fact, not a weakling. you were strong, and you proved it every single time, putting your all in every training and going above and beyond with your hand stretched out to anyone who needed it, all the while with that damn smile on your face.

one training, bakugou busted one of his gauntlets. he had expected it, had already sensed that something was off when he was gearing up before training. he cursed under his breath and went to remove it, when you suddenly spawned by his side and scared the living shit out of him.

not that he’d ever admit it, but hearing your voice was enough to make his hair stand on end.

“hey, um, do you need help with that?” you asked, and bakugou freezed as you looked at him with those big, innocent eyes. “your gear, i mean.”

“hah?” bakugou flares up instinctively. it’s his default response to being approached, after all. “the fuck do you know about fixing jackshit?”

“oh, um, i tinker with a bunch of random stuff sometimes, so i figured maybe i could—”

“like hell i’m gonna let some idiot like you tinker with my shit,” bakugou sneers at you, and you flinch but you don’t take a step back. “find somethin’ else ta do if yer bored, sunshine.”

“sunshine— what—” you genuinely look a little concerned and even a little offended as you guffaw over bakugou’s words. “my quirk has nothing to do with sunshine!”

“hah?! ya think i’m stupid or some shit?! ‘course i know that it’s got shit to do with the sun, moron!”

“then why in the world would you call me that?!”

“i’ll call you whatever the fuck i want, shitface!”

then, class prez tenya iida dashes to break up the “fight”. “YOU TWO!!! BAKUGOU ESPECIALLY, CEASE YOUR SQUABBLING THIS INSTANT!!! SUCH PROFANITY IS NOT BECOMING OF A FUTURE—”

later that evening, you find yourself seated on the couch watching alien: covenant in the common room with kirishima, kaminara, sero and mina. however, you’re not paying much attention to whatever that egomaniac david’s doing in the movie, you’re still dwelling on how horribly your first proper interaction with bakugou had gone.

“y/n, darling, would you please tell us what’s wrong? this is, like, the tenth time you’ve sighed, and i know david is not that hot,” mina nudges your arm with an elbow. kaminari squawks in defiance, crying out that “if david’s not hot, i’m toast!” and kirishima reassuring him that he’ll be just fine, because “david’s just not manly, man!”.

“yeah, it’s not david,” you sighed yet again, and mina facepalms so hard you wince. “sorry, it’s just, i’m still a little peeved by what happened during training today.”

“bakugou, huh?” kirishima shoots you a wry smile, nodding sympathetically. “don’t mind it too much, bakugou’s just always like that!”

“i know, i know, but why the fuck did he call me sunshine?” you groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow and shoving your face into it.

“holy shit, okay, guys, this must be really bad,” kaminari shoots up from his horrendous slouched position and grabs sero’s shoulders to shake him like it’s the end of the world. “y/n just swore, and bakugou is acting up! i mean, that doesn’t sound like bakugou at all!”

“okay, firstly, kaminari, i hate to break it to you, bud, but i swear. like, a lot,” you dropped the pillow in your lap. “secondly, what do you mean bakugou’s acting up? doesn’t he call everyone names all the time?”

“yeah, insultingly,” jirou walks by the common room and chimes in. she points at the earphone jacks dangling from her ears. “i’m “ears.””

“i’m pinky,” mina hums in agreement.

“soy-sauce face,” sero deadpans.

“dunceface!” kaminari high-fives sero.

“and bakugou calls me shitty hair,” kirishima completes with a sigh. “what did he call you again?”

“moron, sunshine, and shitface, i think?” an awkward silence falls over the room, and you frown. “what? what does that mean? does he, like, really hate the sun or something?”

“…not that i know of? but it sounds like, uh,” kirishima scratches his head and gives you another one of those wry smiles. “sounds like you don’t completely piss bakugou off.”

extras:

yes that was an abby miller reference

yes i have walked into a wall yes i apologised

i REALLY wanna watch alien romulus in cinemas soon PLS NO SPOILERS

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @valeriyaaak @v3n7s @deimosjay @zaiban2989 @girls-overflower @notmeduhh @dreamcastgirl99 @busdriver-move-that-ass @atashiboba @kathsuhki @armeenix @channnee @antiwhores @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @kenqki @vikizzy @thesimpybitch @eempxth @hanta-seros-wifey @itztaki @thekidscallmebosss

[pucksandpower]

Prove Them Wrong

Charles Leclerc x wife!Reader

Summary: when an invitation to your high school reunion arrives, you are ready to throw it in the garbage … but your husband convinces you to go and prove them wrong

Happy Charles Leclerc contract extension day to all who celebrate 🫶

The invitation arrives in the mail on a Tuesday morning. You’ve just finished your coffee and are clearing the breakfast dishes when you see it — that familiar crest imprinted on the thick, creamy stationary. Your five-year high school reunion.

Immediately, your stomach drops. You haven’t thought about high school in years, haven’t had any contact with your classmates in just as long. Those weren’t the easiest years for you. In fact, they were some of the hardest.

You were shy, quiet, a bit awkward. You never quite fit in with the popular crowd, though you longed to. Much of your time was spent alone, lost in books and music, wishing you could break out of your shell. The kids were cruel in their exclusion. You still remember the whispers, the laughter at your expense, the feeling of being an outsider looking in.

After graduation, you left it all behind without a backward glance. You built a new life, one where you finally found your place. You have a successful career, an amazing husband, a beautiful home. You’ve traveled the world, experienced things you could have never imagined as that geeky teen.

Yet holding the invitation in your hands, the old insecurities come flooding back. Could you really face those people again? The ones who looked through you like you were invisible? Who made you feel small?

You’re lost in thought when Charles comes into the kitchen. He kisses your cheek and asks what’s wrong. Wordlessly, you hand him the invitation.

He glances at it and understanding dawns on his face. “Ah, a reunion. I take it you’re not thrilled?”

You shake your head. “I hated high school. The kids were really mean. I don’t know if I can go back there and face them again.”

Charles pulls you into a hug. “I’m sorry you went through that, love. Kids can be terribly cruel.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You know, this might be a good chance to show them how wrong they were about you.”

You give him a skeptical look and he continues. “Think about it — you’re not that shy girl anymore. You’ve accomplished so much, you have an amazing life. Maybe going back will give you some closure. A chance to prove to yourself and to them how far you’ve come.”

“I don’t know ...” you say uncertainly.

Charles grasps your shoulders, looking into your eyes. “You are an incredible woman. You have nothing to feel insecure about. I know it won’t be easy, but I think this could be good for you. Let them see the strong, successful person you’ve become. And I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

You take a deep breath, letting his words sink in. Maybe he’s right. This could be an opportunity to flip the script, to rewrite the ending to that difficult chapter of your life.

“Okay,” you say finally. “Let’s do it.”

Charles grins and pulls you in for a real embrace now. “That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you.”

Over the next few weeks, you have moments of confidence mixed with waves of doubt. Charles is a constant source of reassurance. The night before the reunion, your nerves are frayed.

“What if they’re still awful? What if all those old feelings come rushing back the moment I see them?” You fret as you get ready for bed.

Charles takes your hands, his gaze earnest. “I know you’re scared, chérie. But don’t forget — you’re not alone now. I’ll be by your side the whole time. And if anyone says one nasty thing, we’ll walk right out that door, okay?”

You smile gratefully at him. “Okay. Thank you, Charlie. I don’t know if I could do this without you.”

He kisses you softly. “You’ve got this. Get some rest, mon cœur.”

***

In the morning, you take extra care getting ready, donning an elegant dress and styling your hair just so. Looking in the mirror, you remind yourself that you belong in these clothes, in this life.

The reunion is at your old high school, in the gymnasium. As you walk in hand-in-hand with Charles, the smells hit you first — sweat and sneakers, just like you remember. There are balloons and streamers, a table of snacks and drinks. And clustered together, familiar faces you haven’t seen in five years.

Your heart begins to pound. Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this,” he murmurs. Then you lift your chin and step forward to greet your past.

As you scan the room, you recognize faces that used to fill the halls of your high school. Some look familiar, unchanged by the passing years. Others you barely recognize at all.

You steel yourself as a group of giggling girls comes into view — the former popular clique. Lindsay, Heather, and Bethany. Once the queens of the school, rulers of all they surveyed.

Lindsay spots you first. Her overly plumped lips curl into a smirk. “Well, look who it is. Little Y/N Y/L/N.”

You squeeze Charles’ hand tighter as that old childhood instinct to shrink kicks in. But you lift your chin and meet Lindsay’s gaze head-on. “Lindsay. Hello.”

Her eyes flick dismissively over you before landing on Charles. They widen, lips parting. Of course she recognizes him — his face is rarely out of the public eye.

“Y/N!” Bethany exclaims with obviously fake delight. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

You allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. “Of course. This is my husband, Charles Leclerc.”

Charles gives them a polite nod. “Pleasure to meet you ladies.”

The mean girls’ jaws drop in unison. You can’t help but feel a swell of pride at the impressed once-overs they give Charles.

Heather recovers first, plastering on a sycophantic grin. “The pleasure’s all ours! What a lovely surprise.” She touches Charles’ arm lightly. “We would love to catch up and hear all about your life, Y/N.”

You catch Charles’ eye. His lips twitch, seeing right through them.

“That’s kind of you to offer,” you say smoothly. “If you’ll please excuse us, I see some other classmates I’d like to greet.”

You steer Charles away, leaving them sputtering. As soon as you’re out of earshot, he chuckles. “Well, they certainly changed their tune quickly.”

“Once they realized they could get something from me now,” you reply wryly.

You make small talk with a few classmates, keeping it surface-level. Charles’ presence by your side is bolstering. With him here, you’re reminded that you have nothing to prove to these people. Your worth isn’t defined by their approval.

After grabbing drinks, you scan the room again. Your stomach sinks as your eyes land on a familiar figure — Brad Collins. Handsome as ever, surrounded by a gaggle of admirers.

Brad was your biggest crush all through high school. You pined for him secretly, knowing he was way out of your league. He never gave you the time of day — too focused on football, parties, and whichever popular girl caught his eye that week.

“Everything okay?” Charles asks, noticing your expression.

You nod tightly. “My old crush is here.”

Charles spots him and understanding crosses his face. He presses a kiss to your temple. “His loss, mon amour.”

At that moment, Brad looks up and notices you. His stare is cold, dismissive. He says something to his friends and they erupt in laughter, eyes cutting your way.

Your cheeks burn. Some things never change.

Charles’ jaw tightens. He takes your hand firmly and starts steering you toward Brad and his posse.

You glance at him in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going over to say hello,” he replies calmly.

“Charles, you don’t have to ...”

He silences you with a look. “Trust me.”

You swallow hard and nod. Brad watches you approach with that familiar cocky smirk.

“Well, look who it is,” he drawls as you come to stand before him. “Never thought I’d see you at one of these things, Y/L/N.”

You stare him down unwaveringly. “Yes, well, people can surprise you.”

Brad’s gaze slides to Charles, brows lifting. You can see him trying to place how he might know this handsome, expensively dressed man by your side.

“Brad, this is my husband, Charles Leclerc,” you say sweetly.

Brad’s smirk disappears. His friends gape between you and Charles.

“Husband, huh?” Brad says after a pause, regaining his bravado. “Well, congratulations. Didn’t know you had it in you to land a guy like this.”

Fury rises in you, but before you can respond, Charles steps forward. His voice is pleasant but his eyes are steel.

“Clearly you don’t know much about my wife at all. But that’s your loss. I’m the lucky one who gets to experience her incredible heart and mind every day.”

Brad flushes under Charles’ stare. An awkward beat passes.

Charles continues calmly, “I couldn’t ask for a better partner. I just hope you realize what an opportunity you missed out on back then. Have a good night, gentlemen.”

He turns, guiding you away and leaving Brad speechless behind you. Your eyes shine as you gaze up at Charles.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?”

He grins. “Feel free to tell me again. And I meant every word.” He nods over at Brad’s group, now whispering furiously. “Hopefully that wipes the smirk off his face.”

You laugh, leaning up to kiss Charles’ cheek. “This turned out to be good advice after all. Thank you for being here, for reminding me who I am now.”

The rest of the reunion passes uneventfully. You mingle, laugh, and share stories with classmates who weren’t part of the toxic popular crowd. They’re welcoming and kind. For the first time, you feel like you’re reconnecting with peers, not tormentors.

As you and Charles get into the car to drive home, you let out a long, satisfied breath. The demons of your past have been conquered for good. You faced your bullies and they’re the ones who were left lacking.

You squeeze Charles’ hand, your heart full of gratitude. “Let’s go home.”

***

The adrenaline rush from the reunion slowly fades as you and Charles drive to your hotel. You lean your head back against the leather seat, letting out a long exhale.

“How are you feeling?” Charles asks, glancing your way.

You consider the question. “Good,” you realize with some surprise. “Really good actually.”

Charles smiles. “I’m glad to hear it.”

You shake your head slowly. “I can’t believe I almost didn’t go. Thank you for pushing me to face them. It was so empowering to see their reactions, to realize how little I care about their opinions now.”

“You did all the hard work,” he reminds you. “I just gave you a little nudge. I’m so proud of you, chérie.”

Warmth spreads through you at his words. Not for the first time, you feel a rush of gratitude that this man chose you, sees you, loves you exactly as you are.

Once in your suite, Charles makes you a cup of chamomile tea and you curl up together on the couch. You rest your head on his shoulder, replaying the events of the night in your mind.

“Do you think they’ll actually learn anything from tonight?” You ask after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “All those kids who were so terrible — will seeing me change their perspectives at all?”

Charles considers this, running his fingers idly through your hair. “I’m not sure. Hopefully it gave them something to think about, but some people never grow out of that mindset. The important thing is that you held your head high and didn’t let them make you feel small.”

You nod slowly. “I think if I could go back and tell my teenage self that this night would come, it would have made those years a little more bearable. Knowing I would come through it stronger. That I would have you by my side.”

He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll remind you as often as you need. Though for what it’s worth, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’ve always had an inner strength, even if it took time to fully embrace it. Those kids certainly didn’t put it there.”

You smile up at him. “Have I mentioned lately that you always know exactly what to say?”

He chuckles. “Once or twice.”

You talk softly as the evening winds down, the tea warming you from the inside out. Your reunion with the ghosts of high school is finally behind you. It’s time to let go of the last lingering traces they have over you.

Over the next week, life returns to its normal rhythm. You throw yourself back into work, energized by a new sense of confidence and peace. Every day the experience recedes further into the past.

Until the phone call comes.

You’re just sitting down to lunch when your cell lights up with an unfamiliar number. For a moment you simply stare at it, perplexed.

After a brief internal debate, you answer. “Hello?”

“Y/N!” Lindsay chirps in an overly bright voice. “How are you, hon?”

You hold the phone away from your ear, making a face at her faux familiarity. “I’m fine. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask evenly.

“Well, I was just calling to see if we could get together! You know, have a little reunion of our own. I’d love to catch up outside of that whole silly event.”

You nearly choke on your water. “You would?”

“Of course!” Lindsay laughs airily. “I barely got to talk to you. And I’d love to spend more time with that charming husband of yours ...”

Ah. There it is. You have to stifle an eye roll.

“That’s … kind of you to offer,” you say carefully. “But I’m afraid our schedules are pretty busy at the moment.”

“Oh, I’m sure we could find the time!” She presses. “I would love to take you two to dinner. My treat!”

Tempting as that is, you have zero desire to spend more time with this woman, despite her transparent new interest in you.

“Appreciate the invitation, but I’ll have to pass,” you say, your tone final. “Take care, Lindsay.”

You hang up before she can protest further. Shaking your head, you go back to your salad. Some things never change.

When Charles gets home, you regale him with the bizarre phone call. He looks equally astonished.

“She actually asked you to dinner? Just to get closer to me?” He gives an incredulous laugh.

You grin ruefully. “Yep. I guess you made more of an impression than we realized.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. Then his expression turns thoughtful.

“You know what? I think we should take her up on that offer after all.”

You stare at him. “What? Why?”

His eyes glint mischievously. “Because I’d like to make it very clear what I think of people who treat you so poorly. And a free dinner out sounds lovely.”

You can’t help but laugh at his unexpected scheming side. “Look at you, getting all protective and devious! I have to admit, it would be gratifying to knock her off her pedestal a bit more.”

Charles winks. “That’s what I was thinking.”

And so, despite your better judgment, you call Lindsay back and accept her invitation to dinner that weekend.

You take more care than usual getting ready, playing up your most striking features. Charles looks unfairly handsome in his designer suit, hair perfectly tousled just to annoy Lindsay further.

When you arrive at the trendy upscale restaurant she chose, Lindsay is already there waiting. She air-kisses your cheeks in greeting, fawning over you and Charles effusively.

As the meal begins, she dominates the conversation, barely letting you get a word in. She name-drops shamelessly, trying to impress Charles with all her supposed connections.

“Oh Charles, you simply must come stay at our villa in Positano sometime! I’d be happy to arrange it for you both. Anything for Y/N’s hubby!” She titters, touching his arm.

You and Charles exchange subtle amused looks across the table. When the waiter appears for your order, Charles gives him an easy smile.

“My wife will have the scallops and I’ll take the filet. Oh, and send over your most expensive bottle of champagne, please. My treat tonight.”

Lindsay’s smile freezes. You bite back a grin, catching his eye again. Message received.

As dinner winds down, Charles finally turns the tables on her. “So Lindsay, what have you been up to since high school? Y/N tells me you two were quite close.”

Lindsay flushes, flustered. “Oh … well, you know, this and that!” She forces a laugh. “I’m in between ventures at the moment. But I stay very busy with charity work and running in social circles.”

“How lovely for you,” Charles says neutrally. “And your husband? What does he do?”

“I’m, uh, not married,” she mumbles, clearly off-kilter now.

“I see. Well, I’m sure the right man will come along someday.” He smiles placidly. “Everyone deserves to feel that kind of love, don’t you agree?”

Lindsay just nods, face pinched. You stifle a satisfied smile behind your napkin.

Later in the car, Charles grins over at you. “That was entertaining.”

You lean over and kiss his cheek. “Have I mentioned you’re the best husband ever?”

He laughs. “A few times. But I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

[houseofceline]

My Pretty Girl - T.N.

Starry Eyes

Pairing: Ravenclaw and sort of ditzy but talented Reader x Slytherin notorious playboy Theodore Nott

Warnings: None (yet ;))

“Starry eyes

What can I do for your attention.”

Summary: Theodore’s late to class but Snape blessed him with the opportunity of sitting next to a cute Ravenclaw who’s no help at all.

1 >

--------------------

Clockwise or counterclockwise? 

You honestly didn’t even know anymore. No matter how many hours you spent on reading the thick potions textbook or wasting bottles after bottles of ink on notes you still barely passed the class. 

You were starting to get a headache from trying to picture the text in your head. Everything was starting to become foggy. You sat down, defeated, and began doodling on the parchment instead of writing detailed instructions on how to make the stupid potion. So much for a Ravenclaw. 

Hmm off shoulder or puffed sleeves?

 You bit your lip trying to decide which option would look better on the dress you sketched out. The classroom was calming with little chattering among your classmates in the back allowing you to work easier. You could never work or do anything in silence, it drove you crazy. 

Suddenly the door slammed open causing you to jump a bit in your seat. 

“Nice of you to join us Mr. Nott, although your presence was expected half an hour ago,” Snape drawled out in his infamous monotone voice. 

“Sorry I overslept,” he shrugged while adjusting his tie. Some students who were listening in laughed. With his messed up tie and ‘burn marks’ on his neck, it was clear that he was definitely doing more than just sleeping. 

Snape nodded and pointed at the empty seat next to you, not surprising anyone that he didn’t take away any house points from his house. 

Theodore eyed you as he walked towards your table. He would’ve preferred sitting with his house, but he could never pass up the chance to sit next to a pretty girl. White blouse with a lace neckline and sleeves, black plaid skirt, Ravenclaw tie, black sleek hair, and a white headband. You didn’t fit into the usual type of girls he went for, but you were cute. 

Theodore took the seat next to you before tapping on your shoulder. 

You turned to him and almost jumped when you found his eyes on you. Gorgeous blueish grayish eyes. 

So pretty, this might be my new favorite color. 

“So uh,” Theo cleared his throat ignoring the fact that he swore he just saw your eyes sparkle, “what are we doing?” 

You blinked. Under the pressure of a somewhat attractive boy it made your memory much worse. 

“Umm, we’re brewing a potion and writing?” 

You had hoped that didn’t come out as a question and hoped that he’d just nod and ask someone else. 

Theodore raised an eyebrow and glanced at your blue tie again. 

“Which potion exactly?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at you as if you were lying to him. 

“Antidote to potions. Wait, no poisons. The common one. Wait, maybe the uncommon ones. Well I don’t think there’s a big difference. I mean, shouldn’t the uncommon ones be stronger and still fix the common ones?” You rambled on, looking off to the side lost in your own thoughts. 

Theodore blinked. The sorting hat rarely makes errors, maybe you were high but then again Lovegood’s also a Ravenclaw. The looney population in Ravenclaw must be high. 

“Why can’t they just make a super strong potion that fixes every poison? That’d make our jobs easier and we wouldn’t have to memorize so many potions,” you giggled as you turned back to your sketches. 

Theodore looked over your shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of your paper but instead your sketches caught his eye. You may be no help in potions, but you sure can draw. 

“Are you going to make that?” He asked while you squirmed at the close proximity of his face to yours. 

“Yes,” you mumbled shyly, scared of the criticism that might follow. You loved designing and fashion. It was one of the only things that came naturally to you, but coming from a family of doctors you were vulnerable to criticism for not following in their path. 

“Cute,” he said before his eyes found your potions paper. 

Common poisons. Theodore noticed that you only had half the page completed and chuckled. 

He got up towards the ingredients cabinet and grabbed his ingredients and the ones you were missing. 

Potions came easy to him. Not only did the teacher bias his house, but his mother was a skilled potions maker as well. Matter of fact her entire side of the family were. He had spent most of his summers in his manor reading journals of potion experiments and advanced information that weren’t even in his school textbooks. 

He quickly prepared his ingredients and started on his potion while continuing yours on the side. Luckily you were both in the back and Snape couldn’t catch him. He wrote down his notes and instructions making a mental note to tell you to copy them down later. You’d need it. 

Maybe he was also placed in the wrong house. Today, Hufflepuff seemed more fitting. You were lucky that you’re cute. 

[ariiadnes]

ㅤ╭ ⿻ ･ CAMPUS ENCOUNTERS ( part i. )

ଓ.° ・ childe ･ itto ･ thoma. genshin impact. uni!au. repost!

❀ ﾟ. ༄ childe

so maybe there isn't an official college etiquette rule book, but you're 99% sure this can be classified as a violation. you glance around the lecture hall for the third time in the past two minutes-- nineteen, twenty, twenty-one vacant seats-- yet this stranger is sitting right next to you.

weird, yes, but whatever. maybe he won't do this again next class. you can deal with it for another hour. hopefully.

--until he starts talking to you, and god, it's like you're having a fever dream. not a single introduction shared between you two-- and somehow, within the span of a few minutes, your mind shifts from 'who the hell is this dude?' to 'who cares, i need to focus on this physics lecture' to 'you want to fist fight who now? did you just say god?'

"but anyway, that's my theory on that. get what i'm saying?"

you stare blankly at your notes, notice how the writing has gotten progressively worse the more you listen to this mysterious classmate and his weird rambles. it's undecipherable at this point. scribbles, really.

"i am so sorry," you start, the words more drawn out than intended as you figure out the politest way to approach him, "but do i know you?"

the redhead watches as you massage your temples as if it'll rid of your headache, grinning when he realizes that he, is in fact, the headache. he slides his notes over to you, perfect and pristine ( which invokes an ungodly rage in you, because how did he even manage to jot all that down and spew such utter bullshit all the while? )

"i'm childe. you're welcome, by the way."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ itto

it's storming, and here you are, running for your life across campus without an umbrella. ( it's also eight in the morning and you overslept, so all in all, you think this monday is an ominous warning for the week to come. )

"you there!"

no. okay. you lied. that voice is an ominous warning. you halt in your steps, blood running cold at the brisk command. you turn on your heel with a vague guess of what you expect to see-- someone intimidating, naturally, but the man before you screams terrifying. a booming voice, red markings adorning his face, and an intense expression you can't quite decipher.

you don't think too hard about it because he's suddenly charging towards you, and in all your horror, you can't seem to budge the slightest inch despite the harsh downpour.

--then he stops inches before you, holds his umbrella over your figure to shield you from the weather.

"oh." you're breathless, staring at the other with both gratefulness and absolute bewilderment. "you scared me."

he blinks four times, thinks about how he approached you, and comes to the realization that it wasn't the most optimal approach. itto knows he can come off as scary and he's sure the fact that you're absolute strangers doesn't help.

there's a sheepish smile on his face as he says his apologies; you think it grows wider when you tell him it's okay and thank him instead.

"don't worry," he says fiercely, "i'll walk you to class. i won't let this rain hurt you."

your brows scrunch the slightest bit in confusion, but you're almost inclined to let him accompany you because of the fervor in his voice.

"thank you--"

"itto."

you smile.

"thanks, itto."

( it turns out that he always acts like that. you're not sure why you thought it would be a one time thing. )

❀ ﾟ. ༄ thoma

one in the afternoon and there are no open seats on the campus bus, much less any open space. you're squished between the wall and a stranger, hands aching as you cling onto the overhead handle for dear life ( because you suck at balancing and you would die if you crashed into anyone. )

you're too focused on trying not to fall to notice that the person in front of you is frowning as he looks at your trembling hand. the bus ride is a long one, unfortunately, and he wonders how long you've been hanging on like that. surely your hand must ache.

he almost smiles, amused at your efforts, although his concern grows. thoma is good at many things, distraction one of them.

"i'm thoma." he speaks up out of nowhere, capturing your attention as you finally look up at him. you're a little thrown off at the random initiation, returning the formalities as you introduce yourself. his lips curl faintly as he hears your name; you're suddenly too aware of the close proximity the bus capacity has forced you into.

"i don't mean to intrude," he speaks in gentle tones, "but you might hurt your hand if you don't relax it a little."

you have already-- just a bit ever since he began talking to you-- but you look at your hand, grimace at your knuckles before loosening your grip. thoma seems entirely relaxed, unconcerned with the possibility of losing balance at bus stops. you, on the other hand--

he seems to read your mind. the blithe smile grows a little bit more.

"if you stumble, i've got you."

"if i stumble, then you stumble."

"that's alright." thoma responds with such genuine enthusiasm and reassurance that you're not sure what to do with yourself. "i'll catch you."

( yes, you do manage to let go of your death grip. and no, you do not stumble, much to thoma's relief. )

[xuchiya]

need to know [j.yunho]

₊˚.༄ || filth valentines m.list || hongjoong || seonghwa || yunho || yeosang || san || mingi || wooyoung || jongho || ₊˚.༄

₊˚.༄ I heard from a friend of a friend That dick was a ten out of ten ₊˚.༄

  Yunho has been busy lately and you were not liking one bit of it. It has been weeks since you wanted to hang out with him and considering that he had been rejecting your invites; maybe it is time to spend some days without and let yourselves be on your own stories.

You can't blame Yunho for taking responsibility for his father's company so why would be a bad friend to him?

You dress up in less clothing for your stream much less by a short crop hoodie that shows a little of your cleavage then your tiny boxer shorts. A streamer of summer, that was your nickname given by your fans— Summer. You have always been a streamer for playing horror whether be a psychological or thrill chasing games, maybe sometimes by playing valorant.

    You were at first called out for dressing way too– short nonetheless you explain that you tend to be really comfortable with playing in less clothing and people see your excellence in playing. You throw on anti-rad glasses before starting your stream, “What is up my dudes! It’s your streamer– Summer and we’ll continue playing Poppy Playtime!”

 While waiting for the game to load, you read the comments, “Looking good as always …  Thank you … Playing alone today? Yeah since they didn’t want to play this one. San is too scared …  Where’s Yunho? Oh he’s currently busy— he’s been busy nowadays so I had to play this alone. “

  After the chapter ended, you were left with a heart attack and sore throat from getting sudden jump scare but overall you enjoy the whole game, you look towards at the camera, “Well that is it for the chapter 2 since the chapter 3 will be out soon and …��� glancing at the time to see that you have been playing for just an hour, “aye it’s still early. Do you guys want me to play or just talk with you guys?”

  Some comments were saying to talk since it has been a while since you went live so you went with their request, “Okay okay I’ll answer some questions then …”

 “Since when did I start playing? I think it was around 3 years ago that I started streaming through the gameplays? I was 14 when I started doing my gameplays …”

“You dance? Of course, Yeosang and Wooyoung are actually my classmates in a studio we enrolled in.” 

“Where’s Yunho? Oh he’s at work, I’m little sad he has not been spending time with me like … Tell me your schedule, I got a lotta new tricks for you .. I’M KIDDING HAHAHA!”

“Do you like Doja Cat? Yes, a hundred percent yes, I’m a huge fan of hers speaking of that …” You opened your phone to show them your last song you listened to, “I swear this is my go to song when I’m feeling myself you know…” You chuckle showing them a hand gesture down to our body.  Some of your fans ask you to play the song, some of them want you to sing or mouth the lyrics, you cackle at the last one.

  “I can’t do that, it looks weird but we can still let this play and talk …”     The music plays—affecting not only your fans, not you who is feeling the actual lyrics but the one who has been watching from their phone ever since you started streaming. 

 “Do you want to know a french word? Je suis excite.. Je suis excite, that means I’m excited right? Excite probably is exciting .. Am I right?” you said your eyes were widened a little bit, looking at the comment section for confirmation and you see some were saying yes, right and correct.

 But little did you know, it meant something different else.

 Their pants had made themselves quite uncomfortable, tight and suffocating as their eyes not only stare at your gameplay but at your display cleavage. As much as they tried to not to look like a pervert but how could he— He has desires that he tried to stir away; afraid to ruin your friendship but with you said those words as if telling him that you are horny. Adding to the fact you just said something along the line of having ‘tricks’.

  “Ohmygosh I should go to sleep or Seonghwa-oppa would smack me in the head … I’ll see you guys soon.” You did your outro and the live ended.

  Yunho tucked back his phone, walking inside your shared apartment. He and you were able to share an apartment under your brother’s permission since they both work for the same company and he did not mind as long as you both had an agreement or house rules settled.

 Those words were a huge trigger to him as he had been evading your presence; as much as dumb it sounds, his dick can not cooperate with him. Whether you were in your hoodie or favourite pajamas, nothing beats when he wants you all for himself. Love you, praise you, worship you, choke you, dick you down—

  “Oh yuyu!” You were startled when you exit your room to see Yunho leaning on the counter with a cold drink in his hand, his eyes landing on your figure and all his last string snap when you just walk in with your zipper open, exposing your tits out.

  You tried to cover them last minute but Yunho was faster, grabbing your wrist, spinning you to pin you on his chest. He leaned down, voice gruff from the pain in his pants and overwhelming horniness spilling out of his body, “nice way to greet me … tits out? Do you walk around with this …” his other free hand ran up to your chest, playing with your nipple and giving it a squeeze, making you moan a little too loud but to Yunho's liking.

 “I-I thought you won’t be home … fuck! “ Yunho breathy laugh, giving your other boob the same treatment but this time adding a slap on it, your back arching in the pain and pleasure making your ass brush up on his hard dick in his pants. 

  “Feel that? you’re the cause of it … now be a good girl for me and choke yourself on my cock.” 

  

“F-fuck! … Yunho– Oh my God!” your face was red and sweaty from how many hours Yunho had you pinned down on your bed, taking you from behind; had his dick ramming himself back and forth, hitting every inch of your walls then his tip knocking at your cervix several times as if trying to reach a deeper part of you to bury his cum.

  “You don’t know how long i wanted to fuck you so dumb that it makes me want to go faster and harder on you .. do you like that? Do you want me to keep hammering you down on this bed like a bitch on heat?” You never knew Yunho was into this kind of thing, rough and mouthy.

 You were crying out of pleasure as Yunho drilled his cock deeper and deeper until you clench around him that had him smacking his (veiny) hands on your ass, “Yu-Yunho— eugh fuck– I’m gonna cum, gonna cum– !” Yunho continues slamming his hips as your eyes roll back as you reach your orgasm, creaming his dick and milking him dry. Yunho chuckles, wrapping one of his hands around your throat, pulling you closer, bottomless.

  “You like that huh? You like it when I fuck you this hard?” You dive on the sheets, Yunho's pace persistent in making his dick wet and creamy on your puffy pussy. You look over your shoulders, engulfed in overwhelming bliss, you speak with assertive tone, “clap me, choke me, bite me Yunho.” 

 Yunho pulls out, leaving just the tip inside as he adjust his grip from your throat down to your hips, in spite of that he shoves back while you pulling back, “FUCK!” you cried, your fingers circling around his wrist, “Yu-yu — wait you’re going too fast.”

 He shakes his head, his eyebrows arching, tongue poking the inside of his cheek, “I haven’t cum yet and we can fuck all night baby.” He keep thrusting back and forth,leaning forward to grasp both of your nipples in his fingers, twisting, pulling them.

  Your head swirling with so much euphoria that it sent electricity vibrating down your pussy as you were reaching your second orgasm quickly, this time a little different from the last one, long strings of ‘oh’ and ‘fuck’.

  “Tell me baby, i need to know one thing …” He licks his lips, pressing you on his bare chest, continue to pound inside of you, almost nearing his climax, “come on baby, i didn’t fuck you that dumb did i? Now answer me.”

  You were breathing hastily, orgasm around the corner but you know best that if you don’t speak now, Yunho won’t let you cum, “Wh-What is it?”

  “Have you been fantasising about this one? Did someone tell you?” You nodded, your head moving swiftly, you felt his chest vibrate as he breathy laughs, “Yeah? 

“ y-yes…”

“From who?”

  Your throat clogged yet you oblique, moaning when his tip brushes on your cervix once again, your dignity slowly crashing but who could you blame? You were fantasising all of this for the longest time that you slipped out to one of your friends about your huge daydream to Yunho that one of your friends may or may not slip about him.

  “I heard .. I heard from a friend of a friend … that your dick is better than their exes.” His hip halted, pulling out— groaning at the emptiness but you were taken back when Yunho pulled you off the bed and towards your balcony; your eyes widened as he pushes you the makeshift knitted lounge chair.

  “Well one …” yunho’s lips brush on your ears warmly, “I have never met your friends …” He inserted himself back in, slamming back on your pussy, “And second well .. they’re not wrong.”

 Yunho pace didn’t falter as he locked his arms on yours, your arms pulled on your back; your chest full on display, bouncing each time Yunho hammered back. Broken groans left Yunho and you were also reaching your climax, “Fuck yunho!” 

 “Take my cum like a good girl!” Your eyes were clouded in euphoria, feeling full as he spurted all his cum inside you, painting your walls white. Your hole clenches on his dick before gushes of your juice burst, wetting his dick and the lounge chair.

  Yunho let go of your arms and replace his softening dick with his fingers, brushing them left and right as you squirt, your lips puckering

“Oh look at that, such a good girl. Keep squirting baby~” Yunho slaps, wipe your pussy letting you ride on your orgasm before he pulls away. Your knees gave out, thankfully Yunho caught you, wrapping his arms around your shoulder and at the back of your knees. He leads you both to your bathroom, setting you on the cold marble tile of your sink.

   Yunho settles you on the bathtub, warm water with bubbles of rose were floating on the water. You sigh contentedly, “Is this what I get for flashing you my boobs to you?”

  He laughs, shaking his head as he settles at the other end of the tub, “You want a princess treatment?” His eyes watch you carefully, cheek flaring. You played with the foam bubbles, “If you don’t mind me being your girlfriend then yeah, I want a princess treatment.”

Yunho leans towards you, leaving a soft kiss on your lips, "Deal."

 It was something you and Yunho had in common. Straightforwardness. Yet here you both are, in a situation you thought is just all in your head and fantasy.

[dinogoofymutated]

Blue over you - 97' Wolverine/Gn! Reader

Wolverine's not even my guy, and I finished this in a day! Haven't finished anything in a while, so this was an accomplishment! This was mainly inspired by the song Blue over you by mason ramsey, and Too sweet by hozier!

Let me know if Logan is to OOC. I'm trying my best to learn how to write for him!

Tw! Alcohol consumption, Light angst. Open-ending.

You can’t sleep.

Maybe it was because of the excitement of the day, the stress from grieving the professor, or what you ate for dinner. Either way, it was nearly 1 am at this point, and your pursuit of rest was fruitless. You let out a frustrated sigh, sitting up in bed and rubbing your eyes. You wonder if you could convince Jean to help you out, but you’re sure she’s asleep right now, and you don't want to wake her up. Especially not after she announced her… condition, at dinner.

It’s not that you weren’t excited. In fact, you were over the moon for your friends. Jean and Scott are important to you, more like siblings to you than they ever were just friends or classmates. Even so, after the cheers and congratulations and the celebration… The news left you with a melancholy you couldn’t quite shake. A baby. Jean and Scott, two people you basically grew up with, are having a baby- and here you are. Alone. You don’t have a partner, or a husband, or any romantic prospects, really. You’ve spent so long learning about yourself and how to protect others, you just never let yourself open up to someone like that. Sure, you’d met many people during your time as an X-man, but you had always been a hopeless romantic, and there had only ever been one man you had things for. But even so, you just… couldn’t help but feel like you were falling behind.

After a long stretch, and another sigh, you get out of bed. Maybe a drink and some air would help. The path to the little china cabinet in your room is familiar and automatic. It was a gift from the professor when you mentioned that you missed collecting things like funny-shaped teapots and such, a habit you picked up from your grandmother. You wonder if he knew that you used the wooden bottom cabinets to store alcohol. You laugh a little when you think about if he kept the information to himself, letting you have at least one little secret. He most definitely knew, you decided. You grab a random bottle of amber liquid, unable to see the label in the dark. You shrug it off, figuring that you’ll find out what it is at some point.

The halls of the mansion are dark and quiet as you make your way over to the balcony, stepping outside and eagerly breathing in the cool air. Your eyes are starting to droop already as you turn to shut the door, but you've come this far and you figure you might as well get a drink in.

You're rubbing your eyes again as you turn back around, only to jump at the sight of a figure sitting on the railing.

“Fuckin’ Christ!” You wheeze. “Logan, you scared the shit out of me!” The mutant hums, the corner of his lips tilting just slightly before falling again. You walk over next to him, setting the bottle down at your feet as you lean against the railing.

“Can't sleep?” You ask. Logan shakes his head, and you frown at him. As gruff as the guy is, he’s normally more talkative. At least, with you he is. You can tell that something wrong, and it doesn't exactly take a telepath to understand what it is.

“...You were the one who found out, weren’t you?” You ask, almost state. Logan Huffs at your question, hopping off of the railing to pace on the balcony. He presses his palms into his eyesockets, growling just slightly in frustration.

“Her smell was off. S’been off. Didn’t think anything of it until I heard the heartbeat.” He rumbles, setting his arms down. “Don’t know if I want to strangle Scott or throw him off of the roof of the mansion.” Logan’s hands flex in a way you know he’s just dying to unsheath his claws. You’re not entirely sure what to say at first as he sighs, and sits up against the far wall. He rests his head in his hands, and it hurts to see him like this. You open your mouth, before closing it again. You glance down at your feet, picking up the bottle you had grabbed earlier.

Logan doesn't seem to mind as you sit next to him, brushing against his shoulder. You screw off the top of the liquor, taking a swig straight out of it before offering him the bottle. It burns deliciously on the way down, and you smile cheekily as he raises an eyebrow at you. Nevertheless, the takes the bottle from you, hand brushing your own.

“You’re not gonna like it, by the way.” You laugh. Logan rolls his eyes, less than a ghost of a smile on his face.

“ ‘still liquor, ain’t it?” He hums, taking a swig. His face screws up as he swallows, holding the bottle out afterward to try and read the label.

“What is this?” He asks, disgusted. You can’t help but laugh at him as he gives you a tired look.

“Butterscotch Schnapps.” You answer him. “I told you that you weren't gonna like it, it’s too sweet for you.” Logan shakes his head, almost trying to get rid of the taste as he hands the bottle back and playfully shoves your shoulder.

“Not my fault you drink shitty liquor.” He grins. You feel a flutter in your chest as you smile back at him, taking another swig to mask whatever he could possibly pick up from you- The problems of pining for a man with super senses, you think, laughing slightly at your own thought.

“Guess it’s all for me then-” you start to joke, right before Logan snatches the bottle back.

“Gimme the damn bottle.” You’re giggling a little at this point as the alcohol starts to settle in just slightly. Logan rolls his eyes, still smiling as he takes another swig despite the fact he very clearly hates it.

The two of you go back and forth like this for a while. Take turns until the bottle is run dry. Your giggles have settled down, and the infamous wolverine has relaxed as you lean against him. The two of you sit in silence for a minute or two, both simply breathing in the cool night air.

“It’s okay, you know.” You mumble at some point. Logan, able to hold his liquor a lot better than you, cocks an eyebrow. He’s not sure if you even know you're talking at this point. You look like you’re bout to fall asleep, nuzzling against his shoulder with a pout on your face. He hums questioningly in response.

“It’s okay to hurt knowing that Jean’s pregnant.” Logan had almost forgotten about that, having been caught up in this moment. His face falls immediately, and he looks away from you, staring into the trees that surround the mansion. You feel your chest squeeze painfully, but either due to the drink or due to your lack of self-awareness, you continue talking. He needs to hear it, you drunkenly decide.

“It’s hard to watch someone you love be with someone else. It’s even harder to watch them move on without you. I know it hurts to watch her move on to the next stage of life without you. But at this point, the best thing you can do for her is support her because you love her, not covet what you wish you could have.” You know you sound like you’re drunkenly rambling, and maybe you are, but really, all of this is something you wish you could have said years ago. You’re sure you sound like Nightcrawler, talking about coveting and love and righteousness, but you’re not as much of a good person as Kurt is. You know that you’re no better than Logan, Pining after him for so long as he continues to pine for someone else. To be perfectly honest, You’re jealous of Jean. You’re jealous of her relationship, her happiness. You’re jealous of the fact that if she would turn around and throw everything away to be with Logan, he would take her in without a second thought. But she’s your friend. Your sister. You love her, and you cherish her happiness much more than you could ever resent her for it. You let out a pitiful chuckle, eyeing the last minuscule drop in the liquor bottle.

“Believe me, I would know.” You mumble. Logan’s brow furrows, taken aback by that. You’ve always been such a standalone, unbothered, always positive. It didn’t make sense to him.

“What do you mean by that?” He asks, but when he turns his head to look at you, you’ve fallen asleep against his shoulder.

The next morning, you wake up in your bed with one hell of a hangover. You groan at the light that drifts through your blinds, rolling over. When you finally open your eyes, you're greeted by the sight of a glass of water, and a bottle of painkillers. You’re confused at first, and then flooded with bashfulness and embarrassment when you realise who exactly had put them there. You roll onto your stomach, shoving your face into your pillow, unable to handle the embarrassment of knowing you said WAY too much last night. You can't help but smile a little though, knowing he must've cared enough to carry you back here and get you meds.

Maybe it wasn't all bad.

[suiana]

Sometimes I feel like I see a lot of mean darling (no offense to the mean people out there, do whatever you like with your pathetic yanderes)

but what do you think of a darling that’s super nice and friendly but then one day someone says something stupid (like a homophobe or smtn lmao ���) and they just immediately say “Kill yourself” with no hesitation, then when people tell them they can’t say that they just say “whatttt I’m just saying what we’re all thinking”? You don’t have to answer, I just really am going insane because I’m too scared to write this myself 😭

i like ur idea anon

(yandere! tsundere x gn! sweet reader) (reader is secretly very unhinged)

"ugh you're so- i hate you! you don't deserve to-"

"kill yourself."

the tsundere, who is your classmate, immediately shuts up, staring at you as his mouth drops wider and wider by the second. what did you just say? are his ears working right? there's no way you could've said that haha...

"what? could you repeat that?"

"i said, kill yourself."

your tsundere classmate and you maintain eye contact, standing in silence as the weight of your words sinks in. the reality that you had just cursed at him comes crashing down on him like a ton of bricks and all he can do is stare at you like a dumb fish. and the fact that you don't have your usual cheery smile and aura is adding to the shock factor.

like seriously?

did you just seriously tell him to kill himself?

...

did you get possessed?

hit your head on something?

or maybe you were threatened to act like this?

the tsundere puts aside his pride for a second, walking up to you and observing your face with a careful expression. hm... you look okay...

"h-hey are you okay? you can't just say that you know-"

"I'm just saying what's been on my mind."

the tsundere is even more shocked now. flabbergasted even. what happened to the sweet and friendly darling he knew?! who is this person?!

"who-"

"I'm the person you've always tormented. i just couldn't handle you acting like you hate me anymore that's why i said that."

you shrug at him before going back to being all happy and cheerful.

"anyways remember to do the homework! it's due tomorrow! bye bye!"

you then skip out of the classroom, humming a merry tune as you leave your classmate alone with his thoughts. he stares at the spot you once stood at, completely stoned as his brain lags and he tries to compute what just happened.

there's no way you actually said that... kill himself? are you serious?

but somehow, he can't help but feel even more attracted to you. huh...

maybe he's a masochist.

[constantnbpreg]

Aw I’m so so sorry you had such a stressful day! I hope it cheers you up to know that you and all these anons got me HOOKED on that unnamed college boy!!! I need him bigger immediately! Like he’s just so desperate to round out that cute little four month bump he’s been carrying around since his first month into the semester, so desperate at the club he got himself knocked up within the first few weeks of his first semester. It should be terrifying but it’s not. He found out almost immediately that he LOVES to feel the weight of his belly, knowing what’s inside. He was even more excited the night he hooked up with an upperclassman, some varsity rower whose strong arms picked him up and effortlessly slammed him on the kitchen countertop, whose strong hands gripped his waist, his thighs, thumb stroking over the soft swell of his stomach as it grew just ever so slightly bigger when the rower finished inside him

It had kind of scared him at first, but then he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t stop remembering the way the weight suddenly pressed down on his hips, how his stomach filled out just ever so slightly underneath the rower’s thumb, just subtle enough to go unnoticed during all the movement. His back had bent more, pulling forward to support this new added weight. And when he walked home that night he couldn’t stop his hands from dancing over his belly through his shirt, swearing it was just slightly bigger. When it was confirmed during the ultrasound a week later he spent the next month thinking, scheming, plotting. He buys himself a few third trimester maternity clothes, telling himself he’ll grow into them in the next few months. Then he buys a few more, stretchier, just in case. He sees them every day in his closet and his hands flutter over his swelling stomach and he thinks they could fit now, and that’s it

He waits until winter break, to at least be somewhat responsible. His roommate is gone, most of his classmates are gone, so he goes out to experiment. At first he promises himself just one, just one more, he just wants that cute round belly now and he doesn’t want to wait another few months for the twins to round him out! One more won’t hurt! But it’s all over when he’s on his hands and knees and feels a third baby beginning to stretch him out. Like this he can really feel his back arch in more, his belly hanging off of him, and when he pulls his shirt back on in the moments after it’s tighter, pulling at the sides of his belly and oh god like this he can finally put his hands on the underside of it and that’s how he knows it’s all over for him

Wonder how his roommate and all his friends will react when they come home from winter break to find him so big he has to press two hands into the small of his back for support as he waddles around, his belly swaying with each step, so pregnant that even at five months his stomach wobbles and shifts on its own just from how many are in there. Good thing he bought those stretchier maternity clothes

i want you to know sweet anon, i did in fact read this yesterday before i went to sleep and oh my gooooodddd

he’s just so impatient. he never knew just how perfect it feels to become so fucking round, to feel the weight of his growing offspring sit so heavily on his quickly widening hips. this strange ability like the perfect cheat code to something he never knew he desperately wanted and needed until he saw his tummy first develop that sweet little bump!!!

it’s not a sweet little bump anymore, and when he’s grinning and moaning as he strokes the side of his huge swollen middle, his friends will gawk and inform him that he IS going to get bigger that he shouldn’t have rushed into it!!! what is going to happen in a month or when he’s full term? and he’s pressing his thicken thighs together because the thought of getting even bigger doesn’t terrify him like his friends think it will, no it makes him so fucking horny

maybe his brood need a couple more siblings afterall…

[vioartemis]

Jealous

(Ghostface! Sam Carpenter x fem! reader)

Summary: Sam gets jealous and killed a girl that flirted with you. You catch her, and things turn heated very quickly Warnings: (+18), smut, strap-on sex, top! Sam, blood, Sam kills someone a/n: let's say that Richie wasn't Sam's boyfriend during the 2022 massacre (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

Sam and you had been dating for over two years now, and she was a perfect girlfriend. Sweet, caring, maybe a little overprotective sometimes but you could understand why.

But there was that side of her that you never saw. She was jealous, and possessive. Not just a little like everybody. No. It was far more intense than that.

The simple thought of someone else touching you - or wanting to - made her see red. She had to hold back every time someone looked at you a little too long. Fortunately, it always worked.

Until today.

You had been invited to a party by one of your classmates. Sam didn't trust the girl, she saw how she looked at you. And she was right.

As soon as your girlfriend left to go to the bathroom, Bella came to you.

"Hey beautiful, how's the party?" she asked, putting her hand on your arm

"It's cool, thanks for inviting me"

"Anytime" she smiled "I'd invite you everyday if I could" she added, trailing her fingers up your arm "Why don't we go upstairs, huh? I have some good stuff in my room"

"I'm gonna have to pass. I have a girlfriend"

"She doesn't need to know. C'mon, it'll be quick, she will not even notice-"

"She told you she had a girlfriend. Now back the fuck off." Sam intervened, spawning right behind you, glaring daggers at the other girl

The girl must have been scared because she complied without complaining and almost ran away.

Sam wrapped a possessive arm around your waist, holding you close.

"This bitch" she mumbled

"Thank you for helping me out" you said, turning around to face her and wrap your arms around her "You're kinda hot when you're jealous y'know?" you kissed her tenderly "can we go home? I don't really want to stay anymore..."

"Of course baby, we're going home"

Maybe two hours after you got back home, Sam told you she was going to her therapy session and went out. You were alone in the appartement, Tara being with her friends. You looked up for your bag, the one you brought to Bella's party, in which you had put your phone, but couldn't find it.

"Shit..." you whispered as you remembered you left it at her house

You had no other choice than go back there and get it. You weren't going to leave your phone there.

You put your shoes on, and quickly went back to the girl's house.

When you arrived, the party was over, and everything was silent. You entered quietly, not sure you were allowed to do that.

You made your way to the living room, looking for your bag, when a noise coming from the kitchen draw your attention. Without even thinking about it, you started walking towards the noise.

When you entered the room, you saw Bella lying on the floor in a puddle of blood, someone in a black robe on top of her. You first thought it was Ghostface, but the person wasn't wearing a mask. You could see their long, dark hair.

"Sam...?"

Hearing her name, the girl turned around, eyes wide. You weren't supposed to be here. You weren't supposed to see that.

"Why did you do that...?"

She got up and walked to you, dropping the bloody knife on the floor, trying to find the good words. She couldn't find any excuse, her jealousy taking control.

"She was trying to fuck you. I'm not letting anyone touch what's mine."

You never thought she could kill someone. You should be scared of her. But you were not. You were aroused.

The look in her eyes, dark, almost animalistic, the way her muscles tensed when she stabbed the girl, the very muscles that drove you crazy since day one, the blood on her face... The fact that she killed for you...

You couldn't help the blush that appeared on your face. And she saw it. A smirk appeared on her face.

She took your chin between her thumb and index and tilted your head up so she could kiss you. She wasted no time and slipped her tongue in your mouth, deepening the kiss.

Her hands were on your hips, before sliding down to your thighs, signaling you that she wanted to lift you up. You helped her - even tho it was useless, jumping slightly and wrapping your legs around her waist.

Without breaking the kiss, she walked to the couch and knelt on it so she could make you lay on your back and be on top of you.

She then pulled away, only to dip down to your neck where she left hickeys and love bites in the most visible places for people to know you were hers, and hers only.

When she was satisfied with the marks she left on you, she sat up and looked at you for a second, biting her bottom lip.

She took off her black robe, leaving her in her grey tank top and jeans, jeans that were took off quickly after, revealing the black strap she was wearing.

You didn't know seeing her wearing a strap and a tank top could be that exciting. You felt yourself get wetter by the second, cheeks burning, heart racing in anticipation.

Sam took her belt from her jeans and pinned your hands over your head, tying them up with the leather band.

"If you move them I'll stop." she said, still mad from earlier.

You nodded.

She kissed your lips one more time before unbuttoning your pants, slid them down your legs and threw them somewhere in the room before taking off the last piece of clothing you had at a painfully slow pace.

"You're so wet, I don't even need lube." she smirked, looking at your dripping cunt "Who made you this wet, huh?"

"Y-you"

"Damn right I did."

Without any warning, she slid her silicone cock inside you in one swift motion, making you moan loudly.

"God, you're so tight..." she groaned

She waited a little, letting you time to ajust, before she started moving in deep, rough thrusts.

You knew it was bad, she just killed someone after all. But it felt so good.

Her smirk got wider at the moans leaving your mouth, knowing she was she only one who got to hear them.

"You like it when I fuck you like that, huh? When I fuck your pretty little pussy with my cock? Tell me, who do you belong to?"

Her movements slowed down, making you whine, frustrated tears in your eyes.

"Y-you. I belong to you Sam...! P-please 'm close..."

"That's right, you're mine. Mine to kiss, mine to love, mine to fuck." she picked up her pace again, hitting that spongy spot deep inside of you "I'm the only one who get to fuck your tight pussy. I'll kill everyone who would want to do it too."

You clenched around the faux cock at her words, your orgasm building.

"You're so pretty under me, your pretty pussy swallowing my cock like that... God, I wish I could fill you up with my cum..."

"F-fuck Sam... I- I'm gonna-"

"I know, cum for me" she cut you off, moving her thumb to rub tight circles on your clit

You moaned her name as your orgasm washed over you, back arching, legs shaking, eyes rolling back. Sam fucked you through it, only stopping her thrusts when she saw tears in your eyes from the overstimulation.

She looked at you tenderly and pulled out, eliciting a last moan from you, before kissing you softly.

"You did amazing baby. Such a good girl for me, hm?" she hummed against your lips

She stood up and put her pants back on, taking her black robe from off the floor, and started walking in the other room.

"Where are you going?" you asked, propping yourself on your elbows

"Getting tissues and bleach"

"For what?"

"Cleaning the mess you made on the couch" she replied with a smirk before disappearing in the kitchen "I wouldn't want the police to find you DNA on a crime scene"

You looked down at the couch below you and couldn't help but blush at the sight of your dripping pussy soaking the piece of furniture. You got up, looking for your underwear and pants before putting them back on.

Sam came back with bleach and handed you a sponge.

"What do I have to do this?"

"It's your mess baby, you clean it"

"But it's your fault if I made a mess"

"The faster it disappear, the faster we can go home and continue that properly"

She had a proud smirk, knowing you couldn't say no.

"... Okay give me the bleach"

[yooglefics]

The casual type: 04 . The plans change

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader Wordcount: 4,832 words Genre ( for the whole series ): AU. College!verse. Strangers to friends with benefits to ???. Eventual smut. Hurt / comfort at times. Fluff for cute friends. Summary:  ( Series ) • Hobi and his girlfriend set you up with a friend of hers to help with whatever happened months back. However, no one really expected things to end the way they did. ( Ep. 04 ) • The night wasn't supposed to go like this, but there's nothing to complain about. Well, maybe a little. Warnings under read more.

Warnings ( for this ep ): The squad being annoying ( I <3 them ). Pet names ( princess , baby , doll ). Flirting. Making out. Grinding. Fingering. ( wash your hands, folks ). Yoongi's hands should be a warning. 1,1714 words of just smut and I literally don’t know how that happened lol. Author's note: The plans for this chapter also changed a lot because I only had like three notes for it lmao. Nevertheless, I'm excited to share it with all of you, thank you for sticking around and I hope you like this ep. Remember to leave a comment, send an ask, with your thoughts and also maybe reblog, and what not. As always, thank you for reading! <3

“No, the thing is, she doesn't want to share space. That's why,” Jimin accuses you from his position on the couch. Not being good at sharing himself since his whole body is on it.

“That's not true! I just don't want to be around sweaty boys.” 

“As if you don't sweat,” Jungkook argues.

“I don't.”

“She doesn't, she is a princess,” Is Yoongi's turn to pick on you. He called you that before at the club but this time surprises you since is in front of your friends and your relationship with each other has changed. And actually, you're supposed to be keeping that a secret from them.

“I love how she didn't argue that one,” says Jimin, chuckling.

“Because I am, duh.” You do an exaggerated flip of your ponytail while turning around, carrying another box of kitchenware to put away.

The guys finally decided to rent a house all together, and to make up for the fact that you refused to leave your dorm and follow them, you offered to help organize and decorate because, at the end of everything, you'd probably be spending a lot of time here. 

“You should have moved in with us,” You hear Hobi tell Yoongi after bringing more boxes inside the house. “Did you find a place?” 

“Yes, one of my classmates and his roommates were looking for someone. Is not too far away from here, actually.”

“That's cool. You guys can come over whenever.”

“You should come to the party tonight!” Taehyung says excitedly.

“Tonight?!” You walk out of the kitchen, a couple of glasses in your hands. “You're not even done downloading the truck. Jimin is not even moving!”

“I withdraw my offer for you to move in with us,” says your friend. “She is more like an evil step-sister,” he murmurs to Yoongi and he laughs along with everyone else.

“I hate you all.” 

Storming back into the kitchen, you decide to focus on putting everything away. Not a single thing that can be broken in sight of future drunk guests, that's why you are struggling to put mugs on cupboards you can barely reach.

“Do you need help, princess?” 

The nickname makes you almost drop Tae's last birthday present, and Yoongi is right there to catch you both. “Careful,” he says.

“Is your fault.”

“Did I scare you?” he chuckles, “Sorry.”

“You keep scaring me when you call me that,” you whisper.

“What? You don't like it?” Confused look on his face when he turns to you after putting the mug in place.

“I–why do you call me that?”

“Because sometimes you get kinda grumpy and you're cute, like a princess.”

It makes you smile, and it matches the one on his face.

“I'm going to ignore the fact that you called me grumpy,” you pretend to be upset about it, scrunching up your lips in fake dislike.

“Yeah, focus on the fact that you're cute.” you blush and he uses the excuse of grabbing another mug to get closer, making it so if you lean in a little you could steal a peck. 

But you still aren't sure about how the whole friends with benefits thing works. Nor confident enough to make a decision before Jungkook announces through the house: “the truck is empty, told you we could do it!”

And soon enough Yoongi is out of the room, helping move boxes here and there, and after everything that doesn't belong in the living room is out of it, he finally sits with you and Jimin on the sofa, you in the middle of the two.

“Are you really having a party today?” Yoongi asks.

“Of course! We have to baptize the place.”

“That sounds gross.” You say, noise scrunched.

“You're gross. That's not very princess-y of you,” says Jimin and Yoongi laughs.

“I feel gross, I'm going home to change. Do you want me to give you a ride to the dorms?”

“Yes, please!” 

You have thought about going alone, but after your failed kiss in the kitchen you wanted at least some time alone, and a car drive should be just enough. 

Or perhaps not. 

Because Yoongi drops you at your dorm and goes home to change, refusing to get close to you when he is all sweaty. 

You hit send with one hand and with the other make sure your door is open before sitting once again on the bed, grabbing your mirror and eyeliner to continue your routine.

“Hello?” He knocks a few times and you tell him to come in, all concentration on the task at hand. And that gives him time to look around a little, taking in your space. 

Is a large room, just looking a bit cramped thanks to the big pieces of furniture ( two beds, two dressers, and two desks ) but your method of putting everything against the walls definitely helps. That, and the fact that your roommate hasn't moved in yet. “Now I understand why you didn't want to move in with them. You have a room all for yourself?”

You laugh, “Their office was gonna be my room, actually. And no, this year I'm supposed to share it.”

“You didn't last year?”

“At the beginning I did. But then she paired with someone else.” You shrug, not sure about the details since you've only known her for a couple of weeks. “But it's not as cool as everyone thinks, sometimes it gets lonely, mostly on exam weeks when everyone is busy studying.”

“Well, you can invite me anytime.” He only partially jokes.

“Deal. But you've to bring snacks.” 

“Deal.”

Yoongi sits on your bed while waiting, scrolling on his phone and every now and then looking up to watch you apply the rest of your makeup, then perfume and pick a jacket, until you are standing in front of him with a smile as you announce you're ready. 

“That was faster than I thought,” he says, standing up. “Your eyes do look cute with the sparkle eyeshadow. Bogum was right.” 

“Oh, don't remember me that. I think that's the last time he is going to talk to me,” a sigh follows the exaggeration. 

“If he is really interested he is going to try again.”

“And if he is not?”

“Then he's not worth it.” The confidence in his voice is as contagious as his smile, and you match it.

For a second you wonder if it should be weird to talk about this with the guy you made out with just yesterday. If this is just normal encouragement because you are becoming friends or do all friends with benefits have this type of conversation?. Either way, you are glad to have someone to talk to about your little crush, and so, decide to not give it too much thought if Yoongi doesn't seem to do it either.

When he first asked you about it on Wednesday it was out of curiosity and you returned the phrase about the cat's tragic ending, receiving a “Well, I guess we are confidants now, kitten.”

You gave him a rundown of the situation and confessed about having a little bit of hope for his now teammate to invite you out again. He wished you the best and told you to let him know if something does happen because, according to him, Bo doesn't seem like the guy to be into sharing, and so, Yoongi doesn't want to be in the way.

“Maybe you should talk to him tonight. He is going, isn't he?”

“Uh, not sure. I asked Kook but I don't think he saw my text.” you turn to grab your phone and check.

But before you can open the app, Yoongi grabs your shoulders and guides you out the door, “Or we can just drive there and see.” 

You're surprised to see the motorcycle in the parking lot, thinking it had been just a thing of last week since you haven't seen him use it since then. You even wondered if it was his in the first place.

“What? Are you scared now?” He teases when you don't take the helmet he is holding in your direction. Just standing there without any movement. “You know I'm a good driver.”

“Yeah, I just… didn't expect it.”

He laughs at your genuine shock before explaining, “I always take it to parties because it's easier to find parking and get out of there whenever I want to.” 

“And I'm sure girls love it, too.”

“That's a plus,” He nods with a smirk, “but don't worry, baby, I’m not making you share tonight.”

“Shut up,” with your nose scrunched for good measure, you finally take the helmet from him. But instead of grabbing his own and getting ready, he gets closer to you, brushing your fingers with his when you're going to secure it and doing it for you instead.

“You tell me that a lot, you know.”

“You talk too much,” you defend, “it's your own fault.”

“Or… you just want to kiss me.”

Glad your smile is hidden by the helmet,  you push him a bit as you answer, "Actually, shut up.”

He laughs, and then goes on to put on and secure his helmet before claiming on the motorcycle and waiting for you. 

The shock about the vehicle wasn't only pure confusion, it was also the realization that your outfit was probably not the best choice. The fabric of your skirt was flowier than the one you used last time, and you aren't sure it would do well at a fast speed.

“Don't go too fast,” you ask him, hands on his shoulders to help you get on and sit behind him.

“I don't get that a lot,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes still fussing with your clothes. “You ready?” he waits for your signal before revving up the engine. 

He drives faster than last time. Or maybe you're just sober and more scared about it all. Your legs tighten on his sides, and your arms around his middle, all the while telling yourself is only to protect the wind from stealing your dignity. When he stops, you have to open your eyes to realize it is because of a red light and your body relaxes. 

Left hand leaves the throttle and goes to your tight, closer to your knee, the coldness of his fingers makes you jump and you feel him chuckle before caressing your skin. “You okay?” he asks loud enough to be heard through the street noises and your covered ears. You nod between his shoulder blades, even if your heart is racing. 

Remembering you had felt your phone ringing in your jacket pocket indicating a few texts, you figure there's enough time to check them before the light changes.

You show Yoongi and he gives you a thumbs down, making you laugh. Oh, well. Maybe it just wasn't made to be.

Thinking he would just drive you back to your dorm, you're surprised when he doesn't take the next turn back — is he driving to another party?

The answer comes only when he takes a turn before entering the highway. Right to the top of The Hill. Every teenager destination to run away from their problems. Every horny couple with a low budget looking for privacy, which yes, in itself destroys that very purpose. But, this is not a place to think about too much, even if there are also people who come here to think, like Yoongi.

He turns the engine off, puts down the stand, and takes off his helmet. You follow behind, curious.

“I figured we should make something out of being outside right now, the sun is about to set.” He looks at his watch and then to the front, at the view. From here you can see the city from above, at least a big part of it. Including the mountains and skylines.

“C’mon,” he pats your tight twice, asking you to get down. Complying, you use his shoulders for support again and get closer to the barricade at the edge. 

“C'mon,” you throw back to him when he doesn't follow you.

“I can see it from here.”

You frown at him, “really?” He nods. Your head tilts slightly to the side, “reeeally?” 

“Let a guy be.”

He looks… weird. 

And, suddenly, it clicks.

“I can't believe it.” You walk back to him, “Are you afraid of heights?!” 

“Don't make fun of me.” 

“I'm not!” But in fact you're fighting back a smile, “is just… unexpected.”

“Yeah. Unlike the death from falling from here to who knows where.” He reasons and you can't really argue with that.

But you can argue with him moving closer.

Grabbing his hand and pulling, amazed when you manage a few steps without problem, but soon he puts strength into it. The abrupt stop of his body pulls yours back, bringing you close to his chest, making a surprise noise cross your lips and your triumphant smile is gone.

“Don't make me leave you here,” and for a second you wonder if he really would. Wonder how much you can push before he actually gets mad. “Look!”

Your eyes stop scanning his face, following the direction he is looking at and you catch the sky changing colors for the next few minutes. Blue. Orange. Pink. Purple. Dark blue, because the lights of the city start to appear avoiding the complete darkness. But from here, you can see more stars than from your room's window and everything seems kind of infinity.

“Wow…” is a bit lame and predictable, but what else is there to say?

“Yeah. Is beautiful.” He agrees, hand finally letting go of yours and moving to your shoulder, “and you didn't have to stand at the line of death to see it.”

“So dramatic.” With an eye roll you turn to him. He appears calmer, with a smile playing on his lips as he keeps looking at the sky.

“What?” he asks.

You're in his room now, sitting on the bed Yoongi just told you he had to buy a mattress for because he used to dorm at his last university and didn't own one. You make no promises of not spilling any of your slushie on it and he laughs, tells you he will not forgive you and both of you know it’s not true. 

Going back to your room isn't a priority right now, you're having a good time talking about random things and siping your sugary drinks with a big bag of chips between the two. You were nervous about his roommates because apparently they are older and that scares you for some reason, but he reassures you they are busy with their own thing and he can drive you back before they arrive.

“Nothing.” But your eyes are still on his lips, on the color they are tinted thanks to the red drinks, “do you like it?”

“Is not bad. I prefer blueberry, though.” 

“I think this one is better,” you said that before at the store when you stopped for gas, convincing him to try it.

“Of course you think so, you love cherry things. I'd not be surprised if your favorite color is red just because of it.”

“How do you know that?” is surprising he says it with such security.

“It is?”

“No. I mean, yes,” you backtrack, “but how do you know that I love cherry things? Did the matchmakers tell you that?”

“Mai and Hobi?

You nod, too curious of his answer you miss the way his eyes are following your lips as they wrap around the straw.

“No. But you always have cherry candy with you. You gave us cherry lollipops on tuesday. I asked you for gum the other day and you gave me cherry. Jungkook gets you cherry cola specifically, from the vending machine at our building. And,” he pauses his list, the corner of his lip curving up, “like four out of the five times we've kissed, you either test or smell like cherry. Or both.”

“Well,” you answer after a couple seconds of silence, “I'm conscious now.”

He laughs, and you drink again.

“Don't be. Is like… your touch.”

“Ew,” noise scrunched up, “I don't know if I want that. Am I going to be known as the cherry girl?”

Again he laughs, your horrified expression making it impossible not to. 

“Do I smell like it right now?” Bringing your arm to your nose, you try smelling your clothes. Then your hair. 

“Stop,” he asks, reaching to put strains of hair back into place. “You smell good. Forget I said anything.”

“No, I can't. Now it’s in my head.” You try smelling your other arm, almost spilling your drink.

“Okay,” he catches it in time, tilting your hand back completely upright, “that way you really are going to taste like cherry and leave a trace behind.” 

“Wait. Do I really taste like it? When you kiss me, does it bother you?” 

“Why are you freaking out about this?” And seeing your seriousness, he bites back his chuckles.

“Just answer the question.”

“Okay, okay. Let's see,” and before you can process it, his lips are on yours, and he hums. “Can’t tell.” And he goes in again, free hand to the back of your head to bring you forward, to really capture your lips with his.

Running his tongue over your bottom lip sends shivers through your body since it’s warmer, softer. And a small moan escapes your lips, separating them and letting his tongue in. 

You're scared to move. Not because of him. But because you have been wanting to kiss him since sitting down — heck, since this morning — but didn't know how. All this feels so complicated in your head, with rules you have to follow and what not, but in practice, he makes it look so much easier. 

Of course you can't pull him for a kiss in your friends’ house, that is too risky. But when he kisses you like this, it gives you confidence to at least ask him to do it whenever you're alone and feel like it.

Somehow your hand is on his neck, fingers running through the hair at his nape as your mouths keep their rhythm going. And you decide to take the risk, kneeling on the bed and moving closer to him. You separate for a second only to make sure you're not making a mess and he smiles at you, “give me that.” Sipping one last time at the slushie, you give it to him to be secured and abandoned on his nightstand, bag of chips moves next and now his hands are free to pull you into his lap by your waist.

“You haven't answered the question,” you tell him, hands cupping his face, “Or you just wanted to kiss me?”

“Stop stealing my lines.”

“Is that a no?” You pretend to pull back and his hold tightness.

“You want me to say it?” a nod is your answer, and is a bit surprising when he obeys. “Yes. I wanted to kiss you,” and he does, making his point clear. “And also yes, you test like cherry sometimes,” another peck, “is sweeter now, but not so much like when is from your candies,” his voice gets lower each time, practically a whisper, “and your lips look amazing tinted red, I want to kiss you every time.”

And you make it happen. Kissing him softer this time, setting your own peace. Yoongi goes with it at first, but those thoughts he doesn't share with you are hard to keep on track when your hips grind against his. Not helping with the situation in his jeans. 

His hands hold you firmly, stopping your movements, and his lips move faster, fighting for dominance. He wants you and you know it and it gives you the confidence to move again. At first it was involuntarily, your body's own reaction to him, but then you put force into it, mostly to go against his hold. He groans into your mouth, feeling it rumble against your chest. 

Pushing his shoulders back, Yoongi finally gives in and lets go of your hips in order to help himself up with an arm behind him, other hand on your thigh. His eyes travel from there to your chest, moving as fast as his with your breathing, to your face, bottom lip between your teeth and his tongue touches his own in the same place. You just sit there, looking at each other for a few seconds until his hand moves up your leg, dragging the fabric of the skirt along. But he stops mid way, going back down. He chuckles at your reaction of puffing air as a sign of deception, “what's that?”

Prying your eyes from his hand is difficult, but you look at his face, smirk in place as he moves again, fingertips glassing over soft skin. “I should make you do it too,” he teases, “make you tell me what you think and what you want.”

The idea is both terrifying and a turn on at the same time. You have never vocally asked for anything like that, but the tone of his voice, the raspiness, it intoxicates you so much you may be willing to try.

“But I'm not mean like you, baby.” In one swift movement his hand is up your leg again, grabbing your butt and making your skirt rail up, exposing more of your thigh and you gasp as he bucks his hips upward.

“I’m not mean,” you breathe. 

“No?” Head tilts to the side, that playful smile of his should be a crime. “Are you a good girl?”

“I hate you.”

“So we are dirty talking,” he nods and you roll your eyes with a chuckle.

It hasn't been long, but you really like what you guys have. Is easy. Without drama or feelings being hurt. And, being completely honest, the way he kisses you is enough to know you make the right decision.

Do you still believe in soulmates and want to meet yours and live happily ever after like all the love stories you have consumed throughout your life? Yes. But maybe your story can also include an arc of exploring your sexuality with someone who is just a friend. Someone who gets your jokes and trusts you too. Someone who kisses you sooo good it takes your breath away without having to be scared of the future and what-ifs. 

Someone whose fingertips brush the top of your inner thighs, so close to their goal, but nothing more because he is waiting for you. Although it’s hard because of the little sounds that keep flowing out of your throat as you start moving your hips on his lap, grinding on his hardening erection.

He is kissing your neck, sucking here and there but not hard enough to leave marks, and his other hand has made its way down your t-shirt, looking for that skin to skin contact, glad both of your guys' jackets were abandoned way before at his bedroom’s entrance. 

“Tell me to stop and I'll,” Yoongi reminds against your skin and you nod, the hand under your skirt finally moving from its place and you miss the warmth it provided. But his fingers reach for the waistband of your panties and your breath hatch a little as they move south, thumb brushing over your clothed pussy. “Fuck.” 

You moan. At the touch, at his reaction to feeling you're wet. And before you can feel conscious about it, he is rubbing circles over it. “Ahh…”

“So responsive,” he groans, “Does it feel good?” 

You nod, unable to form words as he pushes gently over on your center, making your body move towards him, looking for more. And he gives it to you by sneaking his hand under your panties, ring finger sliding between your folds, a groan of his own accompanying your whimpers as he truly feels how wet you're.

“F-fuck. You feel so soft,” Yoongi points out and it makes a shiver run down your body, while he keeps rubbing expertly, cupping your pussy when even without realizing your hips start moving again, looking for more friction.

“Y-yoongi,” you call, asking for more. 

For a second you think he doesn't get it because he takes his hand out, however is only to bring his ring and middle finger to his mouth, humming around them without breaking eye contact. Brown irises over taken by desire and you could've gotten lost on that look alone, but soon his hand goes back to its place between your legs, “Breathe,” he instructs, “tell me if it hurts.”

And it does, a little. Because you're not used to it and every touch is a bit overwhelming, all the same, he is gentle, one finger pushing in slowly and not all the way before going back. Your eyes close under his gaze, inspecting your reaction as he pushes in again, letting you get used to the feeling. 

“Is it good?” his lips go back to your neck, kissing his way up to your lips. 

“S-so good,” you smile against his mouth, “you can go on.”

And he moans against yours before adding another one, two digits inside you.

The thing about Yoongi is: he is a pleaser. He likes making his partners feel good and the way your lips part as he pushes into your pussy makes him weak. He knows that if you asked him to finger you all night he would, no questions asked.

But he also knows you don't have much time. That's why you are still sitting on his lap and not laying on his bed, and why he kept your clothes on even if is now regretting it.

His eyes travel down your body, to your hand in a fist with the fabric of your clothes. “Pull it up, doll.” Yoongi requests. “Your skirt. Let me see you.” 

You do, the carmine color on your cheeks even deeper as your sight is filled with his hand movements. 

“...so hot, taking my fingers so good.” He murmurs, hand on your lower back holding you in place as he picks up the peace. Feeling how your walls tighten around him every time he pushes in and his dick requests attention at the thought of fucking you properly. If only he had time.

“Fuck, fuck, fuc-” is your new mantra as his fingers move expertly, breaking into incohesive moans when they touch the bundle of muscle that makes you see stars. 

“I got you,” he says, “f-fuck, so pretty, baby.” Yoongi's voice is so gentle and still filled with lust as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, getting you closer and closer to the end. “C’mon, let me see you cum, y/n.”

And that's all you need, hear your name so out of breath, to practically hit your orgasm on command. Head tilted back and lip between your teeth to suppress any noises, ignoring the voice of reason in your head that tells you is a bit late for that.

When you open your eyes again Yoongi's fingers are back in his mouth, sucking yourself off of them, and even if you just reached your high, you can't help the way your pussy reacts to that.

Catching you staring, he winks at you. 

And before you can decide the next move, your ringtone fills the silence, almost making you jump out of his lap. He chuckles, “Careful,�� freeing you from his hands as you reach for your phone.

“Yes?” You answer, free hand fixing your clothes and putting black strains in place, trying to shake the feeling of being caught.

“Hi. Sorry about the time, my flight got canceled and then the next one took hours and—” taking the phone away from your ear, you realize that in the heat of the moment you didn't even notice it was an unknown number and not one of the guys. You're about to say they probably got the wrong number but the person keeps talking and it feels rude to just cut them off. “...but I'll have to wait until tomorrow. So apparently you're the only one with a key now and they said you were here but I knocked and well, I don't know if you were sleeping or…?” 

It takes you a second to process they do want you to talk now. “Sorry. I don't think I'm who you're looking for.”

“Are you not y/n?”

“Yes…” you turn to Yoongi, confused expression matching yours. “Who are you?”

“Oh, shit. I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I?” You nod even if it can't be seen through the phone, “I'm Subin. Your new roommate.”

A/N: AAAAAAHHHHHH pls don't call Subin a cockblocker ㅠ^ㅠ even if she would call herself that if she knew hahah. A/N 2: ALSO, I decided to try something new with the format of showing the texting, so please tell me your opinion, do you like it as screenshots or prefer it to be typed down? or is the same either way? Send a tip on ko-fi?? ( Only if you can and don't feel pressured to do it! )

♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @nariee02 , @sexytholland , @itsmina29 , @ktownshizzle , @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d , @kimtaehussy .

➪ 01 ・ 02  ・  03 | ➪ Tag for TCT verse | ♡ Tag list ➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Pinned | ➪ Ko-fi

[bbanghiitomi]

| caught in a line

synopsis: tangled upon an endless string of feelings, both love and suffering, y/n intends to hide somewhere the love of her life will never find her — but in the process of losing the strings connecting her to her past, she gets stuck on a new one (her future).

— non-idol!childhoodfriend!kminji × non-idol!fem!reader × non-idol!khaerin!

note: holy moly i've been so busy in the past few months/weeks and i'm tryna catch up on some stuff lately but AH a post after 10 years... hope u guys are doing well also this was requested by anon, thanks! hope u guys liked it, comments are very appreciated.

(⁠๑⁠´⁠•⁠.̫⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠`⁠๑⁠)(⁠๑⁠´⁠•⁠.̫⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠`⁠๑⁠)(⁠๑⁠´⁠•⁠.̫⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠`⁠๑⁠)(⁠๑⁠´⁠•⁠.̫⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠`⁠๑⁠)

"where are you going?" you take a deep breath as you turn around to face minji, you can see the confused look on her face and all you could do was to give her a short chuckle. "home." you answer almost a little too late as minji starts taking steps to approach you, you watch as she almost, stomps her way to you, with a pout on her lips. "alright, now. why didn't you tell me? i was looking for you the whole time." minji brushes her long fingers on her raven hair as she exhales, you stare at her and immediately you shift your sight away from her gorgeous face — for the better, you decide.

"i didn't have the chance, i tried to approach you but you were talking with your classmate." you tell her, you see the way her eyebrows relax and she nods, you stand there in front of her waiting for a response but all she can do is scratch her nape. "uhm, right. hanni, she was... we were having a conversation about papers." minji shrugs, you laugh, finding yourself looking away awkwardly.

"if that's the case, i should really get going. if you don't have any questions no more, that is." you smile and the tension feels weird, you're standing there, as if you have somewhere to go and you're about to be late and minji stands in front of you as if she had nowhere to go. minji looks around and reaches for your hand. "hey, we're supposed to go home together, right?" she asks, and oh — of course, you didn't know what went into you, how did you forgot?

you place a hand on your forehead and shake your head. "oh right, i thought you'd go home later. yes, we should get going now!" you point to the main gate of the school and see minji laughing. "you're so funny." she mutters.

for some reason, you don't know when or where it all started, but you've been feeling something blooming inside of your chest — it's ticklish, you feel it everytime you come across minji and at first, it felt funny, but now... it's starting to get more evident as the time passes by.

you tried to ignore it, at least you tried not to think too much of it. it's just getting harder, as the clock ticks and so is your time here. you have come to a realization that maybe, there has to be a better way out of this.

"you were absent yesterday... ms. hwang asked me about your whereabouts and i couldn't answer since you weren't telling me." you stopped your finger from further tapping on your mouse, your eyes are staring at your laptop, suddenly finding your interest in the document plastered on the screen. in all honesty, you're scared, just right now... sitting here beside minji, you can feel the way your heart is beating, as if it's getting harder to breathe.

it's not like this before... you remember it very well, when this feeling inside your chest used to be tender, sweet, and comforting. it felt like there were flowers fluttering inside your chest, it's ticklish but now —

it's starting to feel suffocating.

you smile, and turn around to look at minji. "i didn't think it would be a big deal, i had to run some errands for my mother." in fact, that was a lie. you were sent to see a doctor for a check up by your mother, she's been noticing your unusual antics lately. you've been having a hard time breathing, sometimes you'd say it's because you were tired walking around the house, doing stuff at school. eventually you come to realize that you wouldn't be able to lie forever and hide it, that one day people will find out.

you're scared to tell minji about it.

"okay, then why didn't you tell me?" minji pushes further, you knew her— since you two were babies, of course she's stubborn! that's how much she cares for you, even just as a friend. you stretch your lips into a thin line, looking at her with concern in your eyes, then you just give up.

“minji, it's because i don't think it's something to worry about. plus, i already got my record slip from the student council office. it's all good now, don't worry.” you shrug and continue to type on your keyboard, minji doesn't seem pleased by it and she's going to do anything to let you know that she wants to get an actual answer.

“is everything okay between us?” you feel your finger freeze, your heart starts to beat at a pace you couldn't comprehend. you look at her, seeing a frown on her lips, her thick brows furrowed to show signs of distress and disappointment. “...what do you mean?” you ask her, minji looks at you as if she heard a stupid joke, there's an expression of disbelief on her face, trying to find confirmation that you were indeed kidding.

but no, you were beyond serious.

“y/n, you’ve been avoiding me. i mean, what's the matter? you don't even bother telling me anything, we haven't had a proper conversation for months.” you blink at her, has it really been that long? time feels a little faster when you're with her… but has it really been that long for her?

you shake your head, closing your laptop as you look away. “no… i… minji, i’m sorry. i didn't mean to make you feel that way.” you look up at her, you have almost forgotten that both of you were at the campus park, not a lot but a good amount of people would be able to see and hear your conversation with her.

minji sighs, closing her eyes and standing up with clenched fists. “okay fine, you can't even provide an actual explanation, or an answer!” you can hear the way her shoes stomps at the grassy floor, even as your heart beat gets louder on your ears, you can hear her very well.

you feel your heart clench, then it’s getting harder to breathe, as if something was blocking your airway.

“minji…” you whisper looking up at her, your eyes starting to swell with tears.

“if that's what you want then okay! let's just… i don't even want to talk to you about anything anymore, you make me feel like this friendship is one-sided.” minji stomps away from you, leaving you with your hands on your chest, trying your best to breathe properly but you're running out of air.

it doesn't help the fact that tears are running down your face and your chest starts to hurt, so much…

it's kind of ironic to hear her feel that way, one-sided feelings… yet she can just find someone else.

it's so unfair.

maybe, the doctor must have lied to you. you swore it was just a mild flu, now you’re inside your bathroom staring at bloodied petals that have fallen out of your mouth whilst you cough violently. how did this happen?

no matter how many times you ask yourself it wouldn't matter nor it would make complete sense, being dumbfounded that these feelings that you have grown for minji — the same feelings that made you experience the sweet rush, the yearning, it was supposed to be sweet, it was supposed to be warm…

it was supposed to be innocent and pure, how did something that was once ticklish start to hurt?

you rush to your room, with shaking hands you reach over to your chair then to your study table to open your laptop — there must be an answer to this, right?

an answer where you don't need to confide minji and have her disappointed, an answer where you don't need to hear words from your mother, scolding.

an answer that you can accept even just for a small amount of time, just so you can ease the pain whilst hiding it.

you don't want to see a doctor’s face, staring at you with pity in their eyes because it makes you feel so much weaker than you are, as if you can get any weaker.

even if it feels hard, your fingers push the keys on your keyboard, one by one, bit by bit as if unsure.

“hanahaki disease…”

hanahaki… disease..?

trying to understand what it means, you browse even further.

apparently, it happens when the victim starts to cough up petals, the symptoms being severe chest pain in chest, because of petals growing from the heart and chest before the victim throws them up. this happens when the victim's feelings aren't reciprocated, meaning one-sided love.

however, it is only through romantic feelings that the illness could be healed; friendship isn't strong enough to take the pain away.

this is absurd. you think to yourself, there's no way such a thing exists…

the only way to confirm this was actually going to the hospital to get yourself checked.

you eventually dread the idea, having to not consult your own mother about it and get yourself appointed immediately.

the hallway of the hospital feels haunted, the air around the place feels colder than usual — you stand trying to calm yourself down, but it's hard when you’ve got no one to run to.

the thought of minji starts to hurt you again, you feel the same prickling pain in your chest, as if there were thorns wrapped around your heart, pushing down and piercing the flesh.

you try to breathe properly, reaching a hand to your chest and hoping to make it stop. there's no one here to help you, and you're all alone — there's a ringing silence and you start to lose yourself a bit, light headed.

“are you okay?” there's a clacking of heels, not that far from you but you choose to ignore it as you walk, another hand on the wall; hoping you’d disappear quickly.

you realize someone must have seen you, you turn your head back to see a girl making her way towards you, cladded with a nurse uniform, all white and it hurts your eyes. “hey, please stand by — you can't just walk around while being in pain.” she tells you, as if she knew any better.

and in fact she did, but you're too stupid to admit that, not when you're in your worst state; you tell yourself no one will understand you.

“god, it hurts. can i just — sit down for a moment?” you let go of your chest and take a seat on a nearest bench inside the hall, sighing as you shake your head trying to take the thought of minji out of your head but it's hard when you've been missing her for so long.

“you can but don't you think it's better to get yourself checked first? you can't just walk around knowing you're in such pain.” the girl sits next to you, you nod even though you really couldn't care much. “yeah i know… but my appointment is tomorrow.” you sigh as you lean on the bench, taking the gods above as the pain eases — eventually you start to hope you don't start coughing here.

the girl stands up and pats her lap, she looks quite determined but you ignore her cat-like eyes looking down on you. “still, we can make an emergency appointment. do you think you can do that? it's for the best.” seems like it's this girl’s job to get in strangers’ business, you can't be mad but you want some peace even just for now.

“that's nice but i can't invade the doctor’s schedule for my own liking.” you tell the girl in a hush tone, as if being forced to make a conversation — the girl, who you assumed is a nurse — shakes her head and turns around, looking at you with her index finger pointing out to you. “don't leave, i’ll sign a letter for you.” you scoff when she leaves, you're feeling too weak to even move.

“this girl… i swear to god.” you mutter, closing your eyes as you feel the pain spiking in again. you remember how minji was stubborn too, all because she wants the best for you yet you think of how much she's the one causing you the pain you're suffering lately.

you seriously hate feeling helpless, but at times like this… it's the only thing you could do.

you hear the same clacking of heels and you open your eyes to see the same girl, holding some papers and passing it over to you.

“you should know that you need this appointment, the doctor understands and we only need your cooperation.” you stare at her face, her piercing eyes and you feel like losing.

“alright.” you tell her as you grab the paper and have it signed.

she stays with you and you spend the time staring at thin air, casually scratching your cheek every now and then. “i’m kang haerin, a nursing student — i’m an intern here.” haerin seems impatient looking at you, you look down and start asking yourself how in the world you got in this situation.

haerin doesn't seem that social herself, but she's trying to keep this conversation maybe because she's found something about you that she can continue to watch out for, for your own sake.

“i’m choi y/n, applied mathematics.” you see her nod and look away immediately and it had you almost laughing.

it was quiet for almost 15 minutes, you didn't mind it but it was starting to suffocate haerin, only cause she doesn't like this type of awkwardness.

you stand up and brush your shirt. “i need to go to the restroom.” you tell haerin, she looks up and she stands up, confusing you. “uh—?”

“i should go and accompany you… for the better.” you see her stone like face, you give her a ‘what has gone into you’ look and shake your head. “no, i’m not leaving if that's what you're thinking. i just need to —”

haerin shakes her head. “i need to go too.” you look at her and laugh. “uh, this needs to stop, it's ridiculous.” you raise your hand over to her, gesturing that you’ve had enough.

but she doesn't give up.

“nope, i take my duties seriously. if something happens to you, i won't be able to forgive myself.”

you nod and raise your hands. “you're not even a nurse yet.” you remind her.

haerin shakes her head, again. “and i won't become one if i can't get this task done.”

you realize she really wasn't gonna give up. “alright, whatever.” you tell her and start walking, she follows.

the restroom is haunting, you feel the cold water on your hand as you reach over to the faucet, there's something stuck on your throat and you lean over before coughing it all up — petals… again, you grimace and feel the pain on your chest again.

you feel a hand on your back, another breathing beside you. “hey, can you still manage?” you watch as the water from the faucet slowly wash the blood and petals away.

“what's happening to me..?” you whisper, haerin doesn't give you an answer. you figured she must feel bad, very bad— you can feel her burning gaze on your face.

“we can have mr. jeon answer that, i’m pretty sure he can help you.” haerin has a pretty voice, you nod at her and feel yourself calming down slowly.

you breathe heavily and stare at her, you don't believe she doesn't know it herself. “answer me, you know it for sure.” you whisper to her, and there was nothing but the sound of water droplets from the faucet as haerin keeps her mouth shut, for the sake of everyone.

haerin shakes her head. “i can't be the one telling you that.”

you eventually give up asking her.

the office was quiet as the doctor read out your condition. it was just as bad as you first learned about it — hearing about it from the doctor didn't ease the weight on your shoulders. you thought that maybe having a doctor tell you about it would be much more reassuring but no, not even his caring tone helped you because you understand how doomed you were.

“there's a lot of treatment for this, i suggest you take medicines first — if you can't handle the pressure of getting a surgery.” you know it would be nice to have it removed already but it's — it's scary, you’ve never been fond of surgeries, have you been always so healthy growing up.

until maybe you discovered love through a friend.

you rub your eyes with your hand, trying to figure out if any of this was real, but you knew it was, it's just hard to accept.

it's not over yet but it feels like there's no hope for you.

“this sounds ridiculous.” you whisper, frustration evident in your tone.

“yes i know, it does sound stupid but it's the truth.” mr. jeon tells you, he understands your frustrations, it's genuinely hard to accept how some stupid feelings can push your life to the edge — it doesn't sound real, not any of this feels real.

you put your hand on your lap, shrugging.

“i’ll settle on the medicine first, maybe i have to tell my parents about this.” you tell mr. jeon who nods.

“you definitely have to, you need support from loved ones — specially in times like this, when you can't get the same love you give.” he adds to it.

“i’m sorry for walking out on you like that, that was so rude of me and very selfish — i should’ve known better.” minji finally decided to see you again after what you thought was several weeks. you know she's doing better without you and maybe it was for the better.

you sigh and shrug, maybe the emotional load of having to see minji again is taking a toll on you but you've been very diligent in taking medicine and coming to hospital when needed.

“yeah i’m sorry too, i know you care for me but minji it's alright.” you put a hand on your forehead while minji still looks at you. your room feels dead, there's not much around and minji's presence makes breathing even hard.

it used to feel so good, when these feelings of yours were once that funny, stupid, childish yearning and looking at minji made your heart skip a beat in a good way.

now looking at her again makes you want to implode, petals growing inside of you even worse.

minji wants to say something, but she knows it's gonna end in disaster again. she's so distraught by the idea you're hiding something from her and she's never been the type to love to hide and seek because she keeps on losing, never been the type to love liars and never been the type to be unreliable.

maybe, minji’s used to be your boulder during landslides. but it wasn't going to be like that forever, eventually she'll have to find someone else and you have to get these stupid petals off of you.

you receive a message from haerin.

kang haerin

haerin: hey, have you taken your medicine.

haerin: i was tasked to send emails to you everyday at a certain time, please always read them.

y/n: when was it a nurse’s job to email patients.

haerin: mr. jeon told me to do so, now please send me your email.

y/n: wait.

“who’s that?” minji asks, you stand up from your bed and walk your way to your desk, grabbing something from one of the drawers and turning your back to minji. “a blockmate, asking for help.” you tell her, letting out a small cough.

minji squints her eyes and looks away, this is complicated.

“i need to do something here in my bathroom, just wait a bit.” you tell minji, looking at her with a small smile — minji feels like crumbling, she hates when you look at her that way, she feels small and weak.

it's a bad habit to think of hating the feeling of being inferior to your feelings.

you close the bathroom door, leaving minji sitting on your bed, grasping on think threads of hope.

kang haerin

y/n: ********@gmail.com

y/n: why are you doing this again?

haerin: mr. jeon is your private doctor and i am under his care. it's my task to do what he thinks is best.

y/n: alright, i have a friend here and need to get off soon.

haerin: okay.

haerin: take care.

y/n: yeah.

minji grumbles and stands up, walking towards your desk and seeing a bunch of crumpled pieces of paper — it's not something new, you’ve always been the type to leave things like that.

minji picks up one paper, particularly your medication prescription from mr. jeon, reading it carefully.

when did you start taking medicine?

have you told her before?

maybe she forgot?

the other one however, was a medical report from mr. jeon too.

he jotted down all your symptoms and there's the ripped part of the final result.

minji closed her eyes, sighing.

you finally open the door and see minji standing by your desk, you immediately walk up to her and take the paper from the desk. “how is this supposed to be okay?” she asks you, you avoid her gaze while she looks at you with hatred.

“because i said so —” you feel her hands on your shoulders, pulling you to look at her. “why can't you just tell me the truth?” minji whispers harshly, you close your eyes as you shake your head, calming yourself.

“i wasn't ready…” you only tell her.

“what? how — when did you start acting like this? have i done something wrong? come on, tell me!” minji shouts, you feel suffocated by her grip and you reach for her wrist.

“let go, you won't get it!” you yell back, pushing her away and she lets go of your shoulders causing you to stumble over. minji feels bad, maybe not because a part of her doesn't understand why you're acting like this at all.

“what part won't i get? i mean, we’ve been friends for years!” minji looks at you and you start catching your breath, with just a cough — a petal falls from your lips, and there’s blood on the floor. your cough turns violent, like a rain raging into a storm, minji can hear your voice ringing in her ear as you weeze for a breath.

“y/n… y/n!?” you feel minji’s hands on your shoulders and she lifts you up to look at you, she feels her heart drop, thinking it must have been her fault. “y/n… what's happening?” her voice is shaking and she looks at you with panic written all over her face, her palm grazing your cheeks.

“i’m okay…” you mutter and close your eyes, tears start to swell and it's hot, forming on the corners of your eyes. “it's just that — you know, i can't breathe!” your hand touches her shoulder, gripping it tightly as if not wanting to let go. minji embraces your figure, holding you close. “come on, let's go.” she whispers, gesturing to your room.

“i love you… so much minji, it hurts a lot.” your phone starts to ring, and you guess it's from haerin.

“what..?” minji mutters.

“that’s why it hurts like this because —” you start to sob, not knowing what to do when you're standing here with her arms around you, you feel weak about it and it's humiliating when you think about how pathetic it is to be in such pain over someone who you're supposed to be friends with.

you wake up, a hand on your forehead and it's hurting like hell. you look around to see everything in complete brightness, the hospital room reflects the light above, everything is in the color of white. you shift from the bed, a hand on your chest trying to find the safe fluttering feeling inside, the type that feels suffocating.

you notice how you couldn't feel it, particularly clueless to how and where it is now — you try to navigate the same pain you usually endure but you figured, it must be because minji is nowhere to be seen.

the door creaks, it opens and you look up to see haerin's face, after several months of being stuck with her, you realize it wasn't that bad — she wasn't that bad.

you look down and feel the breeze of the air conditioner, haerin slowly enters inside and stands by the end of your bed.

“hey,” she calls.

you look up and smile at her, brushing a hand on your hair.

“do you remember the waiver you signed… like several months ago?” she asks, you look at her, to her cat-like eyes and feel something inside, you ignore it.

“yes, i think… i guess it happened.” you mutter, it was awkward and haerin hates it when things get awkward. maybe because she wants you to feel better, she pushes strands of her hair behind her very noticeable ear then she clears her throat.

“yeah, it was a success — i bet you feel so much better now.” she smiles, like she always does when you actually listen to what she says.

you remember signing a waiver, a deal you made with mr. jeon, that if you’re at your worst state caused by the disease you will have to have an emergency surgery immediately as soon as it happens.

you thought that it would be a good idea, you want to wait at least a little more just in case that pain disappears but it was taking too long. that time you passed out on minji’s arms, you knew it would have been the right time to finally let go.

“i do. it's weird right? nothing much has changed,” you pause as you reach out to your chest, closing your eyes as you breathe. “it feels like something is still fluttering inside my chest.” you tell haerin, haerin frowns and comes closer leaning towards you. “what's wrong? does it still hurt?” haerin asks, holding your shoulders.

you shrug, chuckling slightly. “no, it doesn't it's kind of funny, as if it's ticklish.” haerin sighs and glares at you playfully. “stop making jokes, i’m worried.” she whispers, and there’s silence going around the room as you both stare at each other, haerin blinks before gradually moving away for only a few centimeters, still wanting to check up on you.

“you’re worried… for me?” you whisper back as if teasing her to which she reacted positively by moving her head away with flushing cheeks.

“of course… after all, mr. jeon cares about your health too.” oh well, you laugh at her and she pouts at your reaction. “yeah, i’m his patient but… you were worried, is that true?” you ask her, haerin looks away and chuckles at your question.

“why would you want to know?”

“because i thought you’d think of me as if i’m a burden and annoying.”

haerin sits on the side of your bed, turning to look at you.

“i care for you because it's my job, okay?” haerin whispers, looking down at your hands.

you didn't pry your eyes away from her, yet start to feel more pulled by her aura.

“do you think of me the same when i’m not here?” you ask, again. even if it sounds like you're asking too much, it doesn't hurt to do so, right?

haerin doesn't move her eyes away from your hands on top of the blanket.

she laughs. “you ask so much, are you so curious… of course i care for you even if you're not here. outside of my job, i care for you even if i’m in my bedroom.” she adds.

you smile at her. “thanks.”

silence starts to engulf the whole room again, but it feels nice.

“say, am i a headache sometimes —” even before you get to finish your question she already butts in. “yes you are.”

you laugh. “wait are you serious?”

“yes i am.” she says.

you lean your head to look at her and she turns her head to you.

“do you regret forcing me to stay?” you ask.

haerin smiles at you. “no, i never did.”

haerin wants to feel bad for herself, not when she's starting to catch feelings for her mentor’s patient — someone who suffered a disease from a one-sided love, because she's afraid she might end up the same.

she doesn't want you to feel like she's taking advantage of your situation, because she's never felt something more genuine than her feelings for you.

“i… actually, nevermind.” haerin turns her head away from you and she starts to curse herself from piquing your interest. “what's up?” you ask her, looking at her over her shoulder. haerin looks at you and smiles, adjusting herself as she scoots closer. “it's nothing.” she tells you.

you brush it off and shrug, not wanting to force her to say something.

but haerin couldn't keep herself.

“i’ll say it, for the better.” haerin tries to relax her shoulders, eventually finding herself almost frozen under your gaze.

you scoot closer to her, your feet dangling over the edge of the bed and your shoulder touches hers. it's the kind of silence where you know everything is going to be okay, that haerin is just right there, beside you making sure you're going to be okay — that there's no reason for you to be scared.

“okay, go ahead.” you tell her.

haerin puts a hand on her face, sighing before she raises it slowly and looks at you — there's a small gap between your face and hers, your nose almost touching hers.

there's nothing to be afraid of… right?

“i… i think i like you, y/n. it's like, i don't understand but i know i have these feelings for you and it's been bothering me for quite a while. i know this might not be a good thing but i hope you're okay with it.” haerin finishes her sentence and you move closer to lean your head to her shoulder, she looks down on your face — all her fear fades away.

even now haerin can't help but feel bad for herself sometimes, it's not easy to keep away from someone she cares for.

“it's okay.” haerin listens well and leans over to your head, getting a whiff of your shampoo.

“i’ll wait.” haerin leans to give your temple a kiss. you giggle, wrapping your arms around her in an embrace.

“you're so warm.” you grumble. “y-yeah, it's kind of hot here.” haerin whispers, you scoff playfully knowing she's making excuses to hide the fact she's flustered.

“thanks a lot haerin, seriously.” you mumble as you look up at her, haerin nods and smiles. “it's nothing, besides it's over now.” you agree and hug her even closer, haerin snuggles her nose on your hair.

minji buries her face in her hands, struggling to fight with the guilt seeping inside of her — maybe it was all her fault you’ve been in pain for so long, when she’s been selfish and mean, she could’ve been there for you instead. she's trying to find the courage to face you, but it's hard when all she sees whenever she closes her eyes is the memory of you crying at her — you're so much better than that, you deserve so much better.

“i can't do this.” minji shakes her head and groans, it's taking a toll on her. every night she wakes up and she wants to look for you but it feels like you're so far away from her. maybe you're running away and she's running out of time.

minji feels the hallway of the hospital stretches into something bigger, wider and emptier. then she's all alone with her thoughts and the voices inside her head until the silence rings into a noise.

maybe one day, she hopes sooner — she finds the courage to face you again.

y/n (⁠/⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠(⁠-⁠ω⁠-⁠)

minji: hey, r u okay now?

minji: i’m so sorry.

minji: :((

minji: i’m so sorry y/n, let's see each other again? i’ll wait for your recovery

“the pillow smells great.” haerin whispers as she watches you lay on your bed, rolling over a few times, missing the comfort of your soft bed sheet, maybe without your tears on it. haerin laughs at the way you gush, pulling her knees to her chest and she keeps her eyes on you.

“i know, i love my bed so much.” you tell her, haerin nods, agreeing as she herself loves the comfort of her own room.

you roll and you lay on your back, hair sprawling all over the bed, you shift your eyes to haerin's direction and smile at her.

with your arms open wide you wordlessly call her to you. haerin sighs before chuckling and eventually reaching over to you in a hug, you feel the warmth of her body close to you and it feels like you're wrapped with a quilt, comforting and secure.

haerin lets you lean your head on her shoulder, hugging her as if she was a tree and you were a koala. “loosen up a bit, you're suffocating me.” haerin playfully complains, you huff and shake your head.

“stay here!” you tell her.

haerin sighs. “alright.”

haerin pats your head, you look up at her and leaned in, your forehead touching hers. you open your lips to say something but you close it immediately. “is something bothering you?” haerin whispers, looking at you with her wondering eyes. you smile at her and shake your head. “it's not that much but — i thought i should say it.”

haerin closes her eyes and opens it again. “go on, say whatever is in your mind.”

you give her a thankful smile, thankful because of how thoughtful she is.

“it's just… i’m worried about minji, because i haven't seen her and i don't want to break our friendship but… i don't know if things will be the same anymore.” you whisper to her and you see haerin nods, giving you a reassuring smile.

“i think it'll be alright… what about you?”

you think about it, you know minji the best and you understand her the most — even after what happened you know eventually you have to fix things together. “i hope so… i can't stand the idea of leaving her alone, she still need a friend. i still want to be there for her.”

“i understand, it's tough but i want you to know it's going to be okay. you got this.” haerin whispers back and you laugh.

“should i really be asking you about this? because —” before you could even speak haerin butts in.

“can i kiss you?”

you laugh. “o-oh geez, of course. i don't mind.” your eyes turn crescent as you smile at her, feeling giddy. haerin's cheeks turns pink and she takes a quick breath before leaning in.

it was short but pure, sweet, and genuine — when you lips touched hers it felt like some fairytales were real, like nothing was impossible. it was short but amazing, when she pulled away you were almost out of breath from the sight of her bright eyes alone.

“i care about whatever you feel — it doesn't matter if it's not about me. i want to know what you think and hear what you want to say, i want to take part of your life even if it's not much.” haerin whispers, suddenly feeling shy and scared.

your eyes widen and your whole face was lighting up — you were out of words but there were so many inside your head.

haerin is an awe-spiring person, she's wonderfully witty, poised, empowered but shy — she's sweet, skittish, worry-wart but lovely.

she's stubborn but listens well, she's got so many thoughts but only a few words.

you think — haerin is so much more than words, maybe more than anything in the world, she's the combination of all the great things in this world: hope, love, dreams, marshmallow, tomato, frogs, and cats.

there's a new found love blooming.

[thehollowwriter]

Listen ya'll I know I'm literally the one who decides to make Finn and Silas cookie cutter sharks, but I'm ngl, at the time it was just cause I Iike cookie cutter sharks. I didn't realise it was accidentally thematically significant until later *wheeze*

Just a warning for discussions of cannabilism, fantasy racism, bullying, and some shark skull pictures under the cut. Also pretty pretty please read this for cookie cutter shark stuff, it's not very long XD

A big part of both Finn and Silas' lives (plus Morrigan's) was being percieved as more monstrous, animalistic, and dangerous, and even parasitic, partially due to Silas being from the Abyss, and partially because they don't look as human as other mers.

I have a hc (mostly because of Azul's backstory tbh) that throughout the many centuries of coexistence, human cultures and standards began influencing those of the merfolk.

Over time, more human looking mers (ones that look like your typical human idea of a mermaid e.g Ariel) came to be viewed as more civilised and desirable, while your more "animalistic mers" (such as Jade, Floyd, and Azul, tho even they still look quite human) that are a harder pill to swallow for humans came to be viewed as animalistic, stupid, and dangerous.

Essentially, the former were pretty fantasy creatures, and the latter were horror movie monsters.

Silas especially suffers from this due to being from the Abyss, and though his reputation is somewhat better than when he first came to Atlantica or during the time Morrigan died, he's still viewed as:

1. A creepy, violent cannibal just waiting for a chance to grab the next good hardworking citizen to devour, despite the fact that he hasn't eaten another merfolk in almost thirty years

2. A parisite (leeching off Morrigan, taking other people's money) despite the fact that he's self supporting (Can't be entitled to your dead husband's money or belongings when you aren't legally married bc you don't legally exist 🤷‍♂️ so it all goes to your shitty in-laws who hate you)

However I would be lying if I said that parisite imagery didn't work for Silas. Hell, his UM is parasitic in nature to reflect the life he jad to live in the Abyss, and even my idea for his OB phantom is the plush shark gorging on the ink bottle (and maybe the "cap" of the bottle puncturing the phantom's head and sticking out the other side like it ate too much)

His quiet nature, job as a butcher, and few ventures into public lets rumours run wild, which doesn't work out well for either him or Finn. And that's not even touching on the fact that when he does talk to others, if they're not acting like he's gonna suddenly lunge at them, they talk to him like he's stupid ("This is a phone, see!" Type behaviour yk) and only seem to take him serious when he copies Morrigan's more upper-class way of talking.

Finn, although certainly not treated anywhere near as badly as Silas, isn't free from coming under fire either. He may be treated with a very odd form of pity due to being raised by "someone like him (Silas)", but that's drowned out by being seen as a creepy problem child that upsets and scares his classmates. He's always been indirectly told he doesn't act "normal" and that something is "wrong", which is often blamed on either Silas or Finn's "nature."

Finn is largely avoided by other merfolk, whether it be fear of him attacking (mixed with a fear of the feeling the ghosts get others) or being lured by him to Silas, as some rumours went. Some children are banned from interacting with Finn or Silas entirely. For those who are more daring, they're quickly put off by Finn's unusual silence and "weird" or gross interests.

There are few who try and tease or bully Finn, and fewer who do it continuously, but those who do mostly target Finn's appearance (fat, "ugly" teeth, "ugly" shade of green, claws, too small, etc) and behaviour ("creep", dumb, too sensitive, weirdo, "doesn't talk/doesn't talk right", etc) or take advantage of his size to try knock him around (this ends poorly)

Cookie cutter sharks themselves are technically parasites, but not in the way people think. They are not true parasites, instead they are facultative ectoparasites. Although they do engage in parasitism, they don't depend on it to survive and do in fact hunt other sea creatures such as squid, like other sharks do. However, most people only know them as parasites that only feed off bigger creatures, similarly to how Silas (and by extention, Finn) is viewed.

Not only that, but cookie cutter sharks used to be called "demon whale biters" before they got their current name. It fits pretty well with Finn and Silas being seen as monstrous/demonic despite being extremely unlikely to attack anyone unprovoked and just want to be left alone.

Cookie cutter sharks are largely acknowledged to not be very pretty either. One of their nicknames is the "cigar shark" due to apparently looking like a rolled up cigar, and an article even described them as "ugly pencils" at one point. Their teeth aren't considered pretty either. I've actually got good pictures of cookie cutter shark skulls here:

Funnily enough, people do like more well-known sharks and even find them more pretty or even cute. Even their sharp and dangerous teeth are more palatable in a way since they appear more "neat" and appealingly organised.

This again fits with Finn, as Ariel-like shark mers are regarded pretty highly and found to be cool, strong and attractive (though this would probably be due to more acceptance of those kinds of mers in the recent past) while Finn's seen almost like a little freakshow of sorts.

So yeah that's my lil symbolism(?) ramble of the day lol

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @sillyslipperybananapeel @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays @theolivetree123 @natsukishinomiyaswife

@authoruio @jewelulu @raguiras @moonyasnow @skibidibabygirl

@quartztwst @yuizenihaswriten @devosin @oya-oya-okay @b0njourbeach

@kirans-wonderland @jovieinramshackle @lumdays

@coffinkissez

@tixdixl @distant-velleity @ramshacklerumble

[iconsumedmygoldfish]

I. AM. WRECKED.

DRDT CCHAPTER 2 EXECUTION SPOILERS AND MORE

just watched drdt chapter 2 episode 16. you know what that means!! time for a rant!!

LEVI TAKING BULLETS FOR TERUKO??? I WAS SO SURE IT WAS GONNA BE ACE THAT DID IT AND HE CAME OUT OF NOWHERE

HE'S MY FAVOURITE I AM ACTUALLY SO WRECKED

also may make a seperate post about this but whit is WAY too chill. this is the first time we've seen him lose his cool briefly, and it's when they're locked in. i think he could have some form of claustrophobia.

ace's execution was so fucking cruel. in the end, he got himself killed because he was so scared. it was anticlimactic, it was immediately overshadowed by someone else, nobody really mourned him at ALL. ace didn't get a buildup, and he died knowing that the one person he considered a friend could die the longer he lived on. that is FOULLLLL.

also. ace said that he'd have a third murder on his hands. arei, levi and.... who?

veronika was so annoying this chapter. im sorry but she actually got on my nerves so much. girl. shut up im trying to watch my doomed yaoi

i still don't trust eden

hu jing kinda average, j kinda average, nico kinda average

david not much screentime, but he seemed shocked when monotv was actually unconscious at first. maybe he genuinely believed that couldn't happen? does he have a reason to think so?

im not sure whats up with arturo, smth to do with his sister, not being able to save someone? i actually missed most of the arturo lore and i dont care enough about him to look back

sucks to be charles right now, but i was more confused as to how whit was more concerned about CHARLES than the classmate(s) in front of them literally about to DIE. i know the fandom loves whit but he is giving me so many red flags i have to say it. ill make a post on him soon. i DO NOT TRUST WHIT YOUNG.

eden kinda mid rn but i just don't like her so im biased..

it was very interesting to see teruko's self-blame this chapter and her beliefs coming out more to the viewer. her talk with monotv was so interesting. so monotv really is just a robot - but why was it so sinister in that one scene very early on in drdt? yk red face smile face. we haven't seen that come up again, and monotv hasn't shown many more examples of sinister behaviour. i wonder if that was an example of monotv being controlled maybe??

im wondering if ace helped to kill mai? she could be the third death? i saw someone say that the game could be punishment for them all for what they did to/their connection to mai, and i think that's an amazing idea

also another part on levi. he's trying his best to understand ace, so much, and yet he just can't. i was very intrigued to see how frustrated he was (ha. divorce arc.) but also the fact that he put teruko's life before his own despite having more difficulty than the others is just. wow. like, anyone else in that room had the opportunity to save her, in the same way, but it was LEVI that stepped forward. and for teruko of all people.

i may have to make seperate posts i just wanted to get this out quickly while the episode is still fresh!!! ^^ sorry if missed anything!!!

[ilikekidsshows]

I know you’re more of an “Adrien centered” criticism/defense blog but I am curious about your opinion on this.

What is your opinion on the “Chloe deserves/doesn’t deserve redemption” situation or the “Chloe wasn’t meant to be redeemed and there for what happened to her is fair game” stance?

---

My thoughts on the Chloé situation are kinda complex. Back when the show only had three seasons, I did think Chloé’s character trajectory made sense. Sure, she’d saved people when she was acting as Queen Bee, but she still treated her classmates the same. In fact, she started treating Sabrina worse than before because she considered being anything other than Queen Bee hanging out with Ladybug was slumming it. For me, it really was a 50/50 on whether or not Chloé would be redeemed or fall into actual villainy.

Because, here’s how I saw it: I didn’t think Chloé was an actual villain-villain in seasons 1-3. She was Marinette’s school nemesis and a decidedly defanged one. Marinette was scared of her exactly once, in Origins, a flashback episode meant to showcase how much more confident being Ladybug has made Marinette that she views Chloé as small potatoes. The season 3 finale could have been the culmination of an arc where Marinette accidentally causes Chloé to become a villain and ally herself with Hawk Moth in the future.

And it would have been caused by Marinette, even if unintentionally. It would have shown how good intentions can have unforeseen consequences, especially when you don’t know what you’re helping someone with or what they want before you do so. Marinette doesn’t really understand what she’s trying to help people with whenever she does try to be helpful, because she assumes what they want and need instead of asking and listening (like in Reflekdoll, the latter part of Ikari Gozen and Quilt Trip). Many heroes create their own villains this way, and Marinette could have done so as well since she was the one to strengthen Chloé’s bond with the person who taught her to be an entitled bully and then she dragged her feet on whether or not she could use the Bee Miraculous.

The season 3 finale shows Chloé brought to a new low. The following New York Special gives us a glimpse of a Chloé who is withdrawn, like she’s reconsidering her life. This could have led to Chloé deciding that she would have revenge on Ladybug for leading her on and then dumping her (as a teammate). But, it could have also have led to Chloé realizing that, while Ladybug wasn’t her friend, Sabrina was, and she pushed the latter away in pursuit of being the Bee Miraculous holder. Chloé could have gained new insight that would have led her to start working on how she treats those closest to her, finally starting to treat her schoolmates with decency and, maybe, with time, kindness.

Then season 4 came along and all that foreshadowed introspection was dumped out the window in favor of having Chloé do cartoonishly stupid school antagonist character things. In season 4, where this kind of hijinks are so incredibly low-stakes that it’s both laughable to see, and laughable to realize the writers think this is good television.

I think the writers realized this too, because then comes season 5 with the retcon that, actually, Chloé is an evil mastermind who is so heinous that she orchestrated a traumatic event that led to Marintette’s character flaws and therefore Marinette should be forgiven for her flaws and Chloé blamed for them. Never mind the damage this episode does to Kim’s character, turning him from an oblivious to jock to a total creep, it also tries to convince us that Chloé is this big threat despite that it happened at least a year ago in-universe and that she had never done anything even close to this bad since. It just makes no sense when contrasting with the early seasons, where Marinette treats Kim as just one classmate among many and Chloé as a low-threat nuisance.

The problem was that they decided that they didn’t want Marinette to hold any responsibility for anything she does anymore. This is why they wrote the episode ‘Derision’, to absolve Marinette of all responsibility in her stalking of Adrien, even though them making it a serious trauma response instead of a cartoon-logic joke means that now she absolutely should take responsibility for her behavior and get therapy. Because they wanted to give Marinette a retroactive justification, the episode just doesn’t mesh with the rest of the show. But, like, the writing in Miraculous seasons 4-5 is so bad it’s of course never just about a single episode, it’s all about how the Miraculous writers don’t know how to build up arcs that then come to a logical conclusion, which is why all their story arcs’ endings fall flat and leave viewers thinking “where’s the rest of it?” when they’re not considered one of the worst finales for a show.

Basically, making Chloé a villain could have worked, but it would have required her getting built up into such a status. The Chloé of seasons 1-3 isn’t a monster, she’s a brat. But the writers didn’t want to do that work despite wanting that story, thinking some repetitive episodes of Chloé being a brat some more will accomplish the same thing. So, Chloé just keeps performing petty bullying until the writers think the viewers forgot that she’s like this because of her mother, who Marinette reunited her with, all the while pretending the woman who calls her by the wrong name to her face on purpose has done nothing wrong as a parent other than “leave”, before she randomly turns on Miss Bustier and starts working with Hawk Moth for supposedly no reason in Collusion.

And, like, the thing that really grinds my gears is that it worked. So many people forgot that Chloé’s bullying was modeled to her by her mother, who Marinette reunited her with. Marinette repeatedly tries to fix abused kids’ relationships to their parents with no regard for how that could harm them in the long run (Adrien, Chloé and Kagami). It’s a pattern, but the show thinks Marinette’s missteps shouldn’t be pointed out because she “had good intentions” when her intentions in the instances of The Bubbler, Style Queen and Ikari Gozen were nothing more than: “Well, my parents are great, so these kids are obviously safe with the parents I just saw make them miserable!” The accusing finger for Chloé’s behavior should be pointed at Audrey. Marinette being “triumphant” over Chloé because Chloé is now stuck with the abuser who made her is already iffy without the added grossness of Marinette being the one who reunited them in the first place.

[sunboki]

004. SUNDAY’S PARADIGM — ANTHOLOGY

PAIRING. Hwang Hyunjin x gn. reader | WORD COUNT. 2.6k & 15 minute read | SERIES PLAYLIST. | WARNINGS. cursing | TROPE. college au, friends to lovers, she fell first but he fell harder (lmao), fluff

( ✉️ ) — hi everybody! i’m very happy to announce that this is the last addition to my mini-anthology “METANOIA”, thank you so much for the support this far and for so much anticipation and patience along the way— have a wonderful day!!

He was a cold person. Spiteful and brash to all people too close, scared to let his walls down. Except, to him, you’re a spectacle. A classmate he realizes he can’t exactly find reason to dislike while he sketched you from his stool in the art room.

Hyunjin knows your habits.

He knows when you’re talking to someone you like your voice becomes higher, knows you prefer to work alone on certain projects, and that you have a low social battery in public spaces. He knows when you're talking to the professor, when you’re anxious, you hold your arms close to your body.

In fact, Hyunjin may know more about you than your friends do. Except, Hyunjin isn’t your friend, nor a stalker or admirer. He’s just Hyunjin and you’re just Y/n, someone he never gets bored of watching from afar without knowing why.

Perhaps it’s the careful sculpting of your nose, the way your eyes perfectly fit with the rest of your face, rose hued lips curling when you smile. Oftentimes he wonders what shade your lips would be if he watercolor painted them. Dusty or dark, pink, or maybe red. He wonders.

And on occasions, he wonders why you aren’t the model for their class while one hand absentmindedly traces you, seated a few stools ahead of him while his canvas successfully blocks the repeated glances in your direction.

Maybe the endless sketches of you in his notebook are the reason he treats that thing like a porcelain vase, held dearly close to his chest as if a mere drop of water would rot the binding.

Hyunjin doesn’t like his sudden interest in you—doesn’t like how he can’t dislike you compared to his usual stark coldness for everyone and anyone, but he can’t help it.

There’s just something peculiar about you that he can’t put his finger on. He doesn’t like that either. But somehow, he can’t seem to get enough.

.

.

.

His lips pull into a frown, the usual one that unconsciously causes the rest of his face to turn grumpy. Oftentimes, Seungmin (the boy occupying the stool to his left) would snap his fingers just to watch surprise cross Hyunjin’s face for a change. He’s a strange kid.

Noticing a friend of yours stumble into the classroom, he can’t help but repeatedly peer from his work, memorizing the small creases of your clothings fabric onto the canvas.

For a moment, Sana (the girl whose name he finally remembered) pulled a small candy from her pocket and popped it in her mouth, urging you to take one as well.

She doesn’t like that flavor, she likes the strawberry flavor better. He thinks to himself.

And sure enough, after delivering a kind smile, you sneakily shoving the treat into your bag when she turns around. Hyunjin bites back the ghost of a smile creeping onto his lips.

Stupid. This is stupid. He tells himself constantly, but still finds his heart beating faster upon seeing you each day.

Really, really stupid, Hwang Hyunjin.

.. .

“I got it!” Sana shrieks, and you attempt to even your sudden panic as the girl begins gesturing wildly. Perhaps Hyunjin isn’t the only one getting surprised on a daily basis.

Frantically piecing together the thoughts circulating around her caffeine dispenser of a brain, she slams her hands down in front of you, another jump scare.

“He’s a ‘look don’t touch kind of guy’, that’s why every girl wants to be in our department!”

Crickets could’ve chirped in the amount of time you blankly stared at her.

She’s fervently nodding, seeming to have discovered an entirely new world in the process of describing your class spectacle as a ‘look don’t touch’.

“..Einstein would’ve stayed in his grave.”

“Would not,” She retorts, pushing her inky black tresses behind her ear and clasping her hands together. “In fact, he would’ve used all of his stone-dead energy to climb out of his grave just to tell me how smart I am!”

“Now that’s just wrong.”

So after more pouting, more glaring, and more unconvinced stares, you finally rise off the bench, shaking the iced coffee in hand.

It’s your lunch, and you would rather not talk about Hwang Hyunjin, but you might just have to give up even trying to avoid the topic at this point.

You don’t dislike him or anything, it just becomes a tad bit irritating once his name has been brought up forty five times in the last two hours, y’know? Because if there’s one thing Sana was right about, it’s that every girl is obsessed with him. Borderline. Obsessed.

Meanwhile, Hwang Hyunjin has no interest. In fact, Hwang Hyunjin doesn’t seem interested in anyone, nor much of anything. That is, unless it’s art.

Back when you had first taken the class the two of you debated on if he was gay, trying to find something that explained it. Although, by the third week you both concluded he acted like that towards everything.

Well, at least he looked bored.

Hwang Hyunjin was hard to read.

Setting your materials in their coordinating places, you steady the easel in front of you, prepared for Ms. Hoon to burst through the door and demand a new mock-up in five minutes or less. She’s known for being spontaneous in all of the wrong ways.

Except, today, Ms. Hoon saunters in, fingers nimbly adjusting her skirt that hangs close to her ankles—close to her tawny leather boots clicking when she walks. She’s pleased, too pleased.

Sana sends you a look saying the same thing you’re thinking:

We’re fucked.

Whipping a random roster from nowhere, her pointed index slides down names before looking up. Right at you.

“For our end of semester project, I want us to explore new options. I’m assigning all of you in pairs to visit different exhibitions around Seoul. Y/n L/n?”

You raise your hand.

“Your partner is Hwang Hyunjin, you’ll be visiting the National Museum of Korea’s Greece exhibition this Sunday,” She smiles, scarily resembling a Cheshire cat. “Infographics are here.” Ms. Hoon finishes, patting the stack atop the podium.

Never has there been so many eyes boring into your back.

And with that, the students either drag their feet or plow through to grab the papers.

Meanwhile, you’re feeling something only recognizable as impending doom.

You’re fucked.

.. .

Hysterically staring ahead, you flinch when a piece of paper is slipped beside you, forcing your eyes off the board.

Can I get your number? It reads, so when you notice Hyunjin’s name is addressed below, you’re convinced you’ve been trapped in some alternate universe. Mere seconds ago Ms. Hoon assigned partners, or did you miss something inbetween the lines?

Your number? Hwang Hyunjin, asking for your number?

Unbelievable.

Instead of darting for the door like you’d planned earlier though, you wait until the classroom is empty to approach him, looking unfairly handsome as always. But before he can say a word, you form a jumbled sentence through fast-blinking eyelids and manically expressive nods of your head.

“Hyunjin I— I’m sorry I’m flattered but I don’t think of you like tha—“

“Huh? For the project?” He replies, and a hundred tons of steel might as well drop on your head at this rate.

Not only are you fucked, but now you’re fucking yourself. And not on good terms.

Talk about a bad first impression.

Opening your mouth, closing it, and opening it again, you chameleon redder and redder the longer he looks at you, shakily typing your digits into his phone to spin on your heel and march out at an alarming pace.

Although, you don’t see the small quirk of his lips, nor how he named “Pretty Project Partner Y/N” as your contact.

“God I’m such an idiot!” Clutching your head, you prop your elbows on the kitchen island while Sana sifts through Netflix on the sofa. She chortles, but lets you wallow in your misery no less.

It’s your secret language, a coping mechanism in its own, sweetly bitter truth.

The day of and you’re still hung up about Hyunjin. Well, your overwhelming embarrassment about Hyunjin—something that kept you up well throughout the night.

Weird. Since when did you care so much about your impression on him anyway? He’s never been a particular stake in your road, but now he’s the sudden speed bump in every once-peaceful moment.

Your pocket vibrates with a notification.

Funny enough, he seemed to live up to that speed bump role.

Hyunjin : Can I come over? Chan’s a bit.. busy

You : Busy?

Hyunjin : Busy

You : Yikes, come over

Hyunjin : Thanks

Sprinting into the living room, you have to stop yourself, hoping to appear composed to the all-knowing best friend of yours.

“Hey, um, could you run to the convenience store for me?”

What a side-eye. She could slice cheese with that glare.

Number one rule? By no circumstances can you have Sana plotting something. Especially not with Hyunjin involved.

“Are you constipated?”

Here goes your ego.

“I’m in denial.”

She taunts. “You poor thing.”

“Aren’t I?”

“Fine, send me what you want and pay me back.” Waving her off, you take the opportunity to attempt at rationalizing what exactly you’ll do, say, look like, act like, and the other billions and trillions of possibilities you only have a few minutes to think about before he arrives.

Real reassuring.

Hyunjin : I’m here

He sends five minutes later, sequentially leading to your phone dropping on your face, slipping on the rug, and giving yourself a once-over (more like a thrice-over) in the mirror, where you greet him at the door.

First thing your eyes are drawn to are the bouquet of flowers held in hand.

Flowers.

Flowers?!?

“Look, they were on sale and it adds to the atmosphere.” He deliberately avoids your gaze. You don’t mention it.

You never took Hyunjin as the guy bringing you flowers. Come to think of it, you never took Hyunjin as a romantic either. Guess this project is teaching more things than just the philosophy of Michelangelo’s sculptures.

Placing said flowers into a vase you miraculously found in the cabinet above the microwave, you anxiously tap your finger atop your thigh.

It’s awkward, until it isn’t. Because Hyunjin is surprisingly good at small talk.

“Why are you like this to me?” Blurting, you wish you would’ve bitten your tongue. Luckily, he doesn't seem to mind too much.

Instead, he fixates on your face, noting your details as you speak. Dusty red is their color he decides, the watercolor shade matching your lips best.

“Like what?”

“Well,” You meet his eyes. He memorizes that color as well. “You’re just different in class.”

Leaning further into the opposing loveseat, he shrugs.

“For the record, Ms. Hoon wears that awful perfume every day. Not to mention everyone falls asleep anyway.”

He’s not half wrong.

“Aren’t you observant,” You muse, cheekily giggling to yourself.

He rolls his eyes, ears pink nonetheless.

Abruptly interrupting your teasing, there’s a knock, and you haphazardly edge to peer through the peephole, Hyunjin simultaneously tailing behind you.

“Who is it?” He whispers, uncharacteristic to his usual unbothered demeanor.

Shit, it’s Sana!

Already aware she’d find out something was up one way or another, you find yourself with no choice but to slowly open the door, a hand leant against the doorframe, another covering Hyunjin’s mouth where he hides on the wall to your left.

“Hey you better pay me ba- are you okay?” She hesitates, surveying the sweat on your brow and how off-balance you’re standing, plastic bag in clutch.

“Oh yeah, I just remembered! Did you buy the extra bag of potato chips?” Diverting the conversation, you nervously grin, feeling Hyunjin’s hot breath against your palm when he stifled a giggle.

Squinting incredulously, she scrolls through her messages without answering. Shaking the list you sent right in your face, you wrinkle your nose, putting on the best “please? I promise I’ll buy you lunch for a week” face you can muster.

Like you said. Secret language.

Sighing heavily, you thank whomever above when she slumps away and you excitedly slam the door shut, both releasing exhales of relief.

Checking the time, you glimpse outside, making sure the perimeter is Sana-free. You need absolutely no traces.

Great. Coast clear.

“Shhhh!” Shushing him, you carefully lock the door before running out of sight down the hallway at full speed. Bewildered, he chases along, mini ponytail swaying with each stride.

You have to cover your mouth to keep from laughing. Unusually, he’s doing the same.

Your unwavering, certainly monotonous class spectacle is laughing.

He’s pretty.

Wait. Duh.

He’s gorgeous.

Yeah. That fits better.

A soft hue decorates his cheeks, and he stumbles down the stairs like a drunkard. Yet, in the midst of your admiration, your foot slips—more drunkard-esque than him—from beneath you. Before your forehead makes contact with the marble floor though, a hand fastens onto your sleeve.

Hyunjin leans down, brows furrowed worriedly. Also uncharacteristic.

“You okay?” He asks, tone soft, voice concerned.

Responding breathlessly from both your near-death experience and how ungodly close you are to a prince, you meekly nod, allowing the boy to ease you upright.

Dear god what is with you?!

Navigating the exhibition tucked away near a library, neither of you waste time getting to work. So as the sky begins dimming to eve and you briefly think of Sana, likely beyond confused back at the dorm, you curve around to the last sculpture replicated, the world renowned “Bacchus”.

“Greek sculptures are beautiful, aren’t they.” He speaks, voice hollow and hardly audible unless you craned close. His eyes flit to every inch of the statue, taking in the precise attention to detail carving the fingerprints lingering on flesh, specific shadows emphasizing pained expressions or that of happiness, fingernails so deliberately intricate it terrifies you.

Hyunjin has a way of leaving you breathless.

“Yeah..” You mutter, scribbling some messy bullet points and getting a decent basis on the overall anatomy of the sculpture.

You often wonder how such masterpieces have remained perfectly intact after countless years. You wonder if Hyunjin is like that too. That, even if you got close to him, he’d stay the same. Bitter, uninviting. To others at least.

To you, he’s different. You like it.

Or, he’d change.

Perhaps become sweeter, lace his tongue in honey when he spoke to you.

You quickly force the thought away.

However, what you don’t realize is that you leave Hyunjin breathless all the same. Because with your attention being elsewhere (for a second occasion), you hadn’t noticed his gaze landing on you when he said beautiful.

.. .

Hyunjin is a gentleman. And in all honesty, this occasion, despite the fact you’re simply visiting an exhibition, feels more like a date than anything.

He’s geared you to the left of him while he shields the road on your walk home, he brought flowers, and even saved you from a catastrophe. You’d count that as a pretty gentleman-type move.

Arriving at your complex and promising to text more details to each other tomorrow, his hand—stirring déjà vú in your stomach—grasps your sleeve for a second time.

Gently turning you around, his thumb reaches up to lightly press against your bottom lip, index hooked beneath your chin.

You’re certain you’ve forgotten to breathe by now.

“Hyunjin.. What're you doing….?” You hesitantly drag out, phrase muffled.

Absentmindedly clicking his tongue, he maneuvers your head left and right, a slow smile crawling onto his cheeks upon witnessing your flustered state.

“Making sure I get the color right,” He responds nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t mere centimeters away from your lips.

Dusty red, he was right.

Leaning his head down with a small tilt, his breath barely ghosts over your face, mischievous smirk beginning to grate your nerves the longer he holds that smug cockiness.

“See you tomorrow?” He muses, shoving cold hands into his pockets while ensuring you get inside safely.

“Yeah Yeah..” You grumble, praying he doesn’t notice you trip up the stairs, mind buzzing wildly.

He does, and he laughs.

Hyunjin knew your habits, and now, in the middle of your coincidentally ideal project, he finds himself learning again and again. There’s so much to you, so many layers he hopes to uncover, so much that becomes hard not falling for.

He can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

.

.

.

“Y/n?”

Sana knocks on your room’s door. You hum in acknowledgement.

“Where did you get those flowers?”

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