#little sketch for our little loser boy

[wibblewomble]

So long Kei 🫡

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Synopsis: You haven’t gotten along with Tabito Karasu in a long, long time. However, when a chance encounter with a mysterious woman leads to the two of you switching places, you find out that maybe there’s more to him than you realized.

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 8.4k

Content Warnings: crack fic, reader is implied to be smaller/weaker/less athletic than karasu, miscommunication of the sort you’d expect from a k-drama, VERY unserious and stupid, crude humor, non-explicit mentions of karasu’s dick, reader explicitly does NOT have a dick, i haven’t watched the movie freaky friday in ages so don’t expect it to follow that plot or anything, random old lady’s divine intervention saves this dumbass girl failure x boy loser relationship

A/N: to be honest i have nothing to say for myself. there is 0 reason for this to be as long as it is considering how legitimately idiotic of a plot it has LMAOAO but i couldn’t help myself from writing it…i watched an edit of **** and ***** from jjk set to the song ‘freaky friday’ and i was like. inspired. idk. if this is your first time reading smth by me i promise i usually am better than this 😭

The margins of your Mathematics notebook were littered with intricate sketches, pretty birds and flowers arcing alongside the equations that you copied down from the board when you remembered to look up at it. If anyone else in the class could see how little you truly paid attention, they’d likely be furious; after all, you consistently had high marks, often even managing to be first in the class despite your constant distraction.

One person in particular would likely have a heart attack, but considering you liked him the least out of everyone in the entire school, the prospect filled you with a sort of joy and determination to continue in exactly the manner you had been. Tabito Karasu — in his honor, you drew a crow next to the swoop of an integral that you had not bothered with solving, and then, for your personal satisfaction, you crossed it out.

“Yo.” You had not noticed the bell ringing, so caught up were you with shading in the petals of a sunflower, the tip of your pencil growing dull from the heavy, repetitive strokes. “My mom told me to tell you that yours left her purse at our house, so if you could come get it after school, that would be great.”

You glanced up at Karasu, who was standing in front of your desk, his bag slung over one shoulder, his lopsided smile noticeably vanished. It always was when he spoke to you, his face never anything but solemn on those occasions.

“Again?” you said. “Sure.”

“Cool,” he said. “See you then, I guess.”

You wrinkled your nose at his receding back, gathering your own things and following him sedately out of the classroom before splitting off to head to your next period, not even affording him a farewell in return for his half-hearted attempt.

There had been a time, when you were both very young, that you and Karasu had been friends. It wasn’t really your choice, of course. Your mothers had known one another since their college days and thus had been determined to raise their children side-by-side, but neither of you had minded too much.

When your minds were innocent and plain, things came easily and simply. You would make castles in the sandbox of the playground by his house, racing one another down the slides as your mothers watched you and conversed. It had been nice. Back then, Karasu had been a person you could be fond of, and so you had been. He had been your best friend, your only friend, really, and he had even sworn to you that he would always be so, interlocking his pinky with yours and saying that it was a promise.

Anyways, promises were easily made and easily forgotten back then. Not so long after you entered grade school, he abandoned you entirely, sneering at you if you dared to approach him, turning away whenever you waved at him in the hallways. You understood quickly enough what he meant by it, and you grew to resent him as much as you had once cared for him.

It had happened long enough ago that now, there was just an awkward sort of tension between you two whenever you spoke. He must’ve known that you didn’t like him, hadn’t for a while, and he never really pressed the issue, though he never did anything to fix it, either. You doubted he cared; after all, he only ever spoke to you if he absolutely could not avoid it, and you operated by the same policy.

“Hey, Y/N, we’re all thinking of staying after school to study for the Chemistry exam,” your best friend said to you as you settled into your seats for Economics, the one class you both shared. “Wanna come? I know you don’t really need it or anything, but it’d be fun if you were around.”

“You just want me to explain everything to you so you don’t have to read the textbook,” you said.

“Guilty,” she said with a grin that suggested she did not feel very guilty at all. “Sorry, but it’s a really boring textbook.”

“It’s a drag,” you agreed. “I’d say yes, but I can’t. My mother forgot her purse at Karasu’s house when she was visiting, so I have to go with him and grab it on my way back home.”

Your best friend winced. “I’m sorry. Will you be okay? I can come, if you want.”

“There’s nothing to be done about it,” you said, shaking your head. “It’ll be alright. You need all of the studying time you can get, so don’t concern yourself with me.”

“If you say so,” she said reluctantly. “Call me if you change your mind, okay? I think my exam grade is well beyond the point of saving now, so I don’t mind giving up some studying time to help you out.”

“All the more reason for you to study longer,” you said. “Seriously, relax. It’s not like I’m planning on staying there for long. I’ll be so quick that there won’t even be any time for things to get weird.”

The day was over before you knew it, and then you were trudging out of the building, scanning the front entrance for Karasu and finding him leaning against the brick wall of the school, gesturing wildly as he laughed at something one of his teammates had said.

You waited for his teammate to leave, and only then did you approach, stopping a distance away from him and folding your hands behind your back as you waited for him to notice you. He did so almost immediately — he was keen like that, ever aware of everything happening in his general vicinity — and his back straightened, the mirth from earlier dropping into the melancholy you were more used to.

“Let’s go,” you said.

“Yes, let’s,” he said. “Come on. If we cut through town, we’ll get there faster.”

“Okay,” you said.

The two of you walked in silence after that, Karasu’s hands shoved in his pockets as he shuffled along beside you. You hugged a never-opened Economics textbook to your chest, your heart beating against the hard cardboard of the cover.

“How have you been?” Karasu said after a while, when the quiet must’ve grown to be unbearable for his typically talkative self.

“Fine,” you said.

“Same,” he said.

“I didn’t really ask,” you said.

“Right,” he said, “Sorry.”

“There’s no need for any of this,” you said. “We’re not friends, so don’t act like we are. I’m going to your house to pick up my mother’s purse, and then I’m leaving. That’s it.”

“Right,” he said again. You thought he must be relieved that you had given him leave to disregard you. Thus assured that he would leave you alone, you allowed your mind to wander, mulling over the assignments you had due the next day and figuring out a plan to complete them that would require the least amount of effort possible.

“Excuse me!”

You both were passing through a part of town that you did not frequent when the door to a storefront swung open, revealing a wizened old lady. Her thick gray hair was gathered in a knot at the nape of her neck, and her posture was stooped over but her expression was no less intense for the age she showed. You jumped at the abruptness of her exclamation, and you sensed Karasu had been equally as surprised, though he remained far more collected than you had.

“We don’t want to buy anything,” he said bluntly, without even waiting for her to explain.

“It’s not wares I sell,” the woman said. “It’s fortunes.”

“Not interested,” he said, though not without glancing at you, so briefly that you almost believed you had imagined it.

“Listen, boy, I don’t look into the future for just anyone. It’s a rare soul that attracts my attention, and here I have two in front of me! You’ll avoid a lot of misery if you agree to it,” she said.

“We’ll take the misery,” Karasu said. “Like I said, we’re good. Leave us alone, old crone.”

“Be careful who you’re rude to,” the woman said, her irises gleaming. “It’s already cost you once, hasn’t it?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched from how hard he grit his teeth at that. “You’re just saying things.”

“Ma’am,” you said, finally deciding to speak up. This entire conversation was such a waste of time, and furthermore if Karasu was irritated, then you felt as though there was a chance he’d lash out and you’d be the unfortunate victim. “Every minute we are delayed here is another minute I must spend with him, and considering I don’t like him all that much, I’d prefer if we could get on with it.”

“Is that the case?” she said, and then she beamed at you, her lips peeling back in a more sinister form of the expression than she ought to have been capable of. “But wouldn’t you give anything if you could go back to how things once were? I know that he would.”

“Shut up,” Karasu snapped, his face uncharacteristically red. “What the hell do you know about me, anyways? About either of us?”

She began to laugh, and it was a rattling, wheezing sound which made even your own chest ache. Karasu glared at her, but she ignored him completely, cackling and cackling, slapping her knee as if he were an award-winning comedian who had just made the joke of the century. Despite yourself, you inched towards him; he was far from your preferred partner, but you thought that if she were to suddenly lunge at you or something, he was probably your best bet at survival.

“I have seen many versions of you in my lifetime, and you have all said the same. What do I know about you?” the woman said. “Well, well. I’d wager I know quite a bit about you, indeed. How about this? I’ll give you a gift — on the house, of course. Then we’ll see who knows what.”

“We don’t fucking need any gifts,” Karasu said. “Y/N, let’s get out of here. She’s crazy.”

“You can’t deny a gift that’s been freely given!” she shouted gleefully after you as you strode away. “It’s yours, whether you like it or not. Enjoy yourself, baby crow — you may thank me yet!”

Whether it was a placebo borne of the woman’s odd behavior or a symptom of the atmospheric pressure dipping before an out-of-season storm, you noticed that there was a headache mounting behind your left eyebrow. You kept silent about it as you dutifully followed Karasu towards his house, but it was definitely uncomfortable, and whenever he looked away, you’d press the pads of your fingers against the source of the pain in a fruitless effort to alleviate it.

Neither of you said anything until you reached his porch; he had been jarred by the conversation with the woman, though he disguised it with a scowl — it was obvious from the tension of his shoulders, however, and as for you, you relished in the tranquility, which was what you had been seeking the entire time.

“She was full of shit,” he informed you as he unlocked his front door and motioned for you to go inside. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was you, but you had long ago come to the conclusion that the woman was just searching for a way to make a quick sale, so you were unruffled.

“I didn’t think otherwise,” you said. You hadn’t been to his house in a while, but it still looked the same as you remembered it, down to the Siamese cat curled up on the couch — although, of course, far more gray peppered her muzzle than the last time you had seen her. You scratched her under the chin as you waited for Karasu to return with the purse, and without even opening her eyes, she purred at you, rubbing her face against the back of your palm.

“Here you go,” he said, tossing the purse at you. You reached up and caught it with the hand you weren’t using to pet his cat, and then you offered her one last stroke in farewell before heading back to the front door.

“Thanks,” you said.

“Right,” he said. “Anytime. Later, Y/N.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder before nodding, figuring there was no harm in one final act of politeness. No matter the grudge you held against him or how justified it was, you supposed you could be the bigger person this singular time. “Later, Karasu.”

The walk between your houses was not so long, but for some reason, it dragged on and on — a symptom of your headache, maybe? By the time you reached your own doorstep, the world was spinning, and after returning your mother’s purse to her, you stumbled up to your room, flopping face-first on your bed.

A few minutes later, there was a knock. With a groan, you rolled over so that you were lying on your back, a hand covering your eyes so that the fading twilight did not worsen the pounding that had spread from your left eyebrow to your forehead and the back of your neck.

“Come in,” you mumbled out. Your mother poked in her head, a bowl of soup in her hands, a kind frown on her face.

“Are you alright?” she said, sitting beside you and setting up your pillows so you could lean against them.

“My head is killing me,” you said. She pressed her hand against your brow, pursing her lips.

“Doesn’t feel like a fever,” she said. “Here, have this.”

She handed you the soup, which she must’ve been making for dinner. You accepted it gratefully, the heat of the bowl against your skin helping, if only slightly. Taking a sip, you sighed and offered a smile.

“Thanks,” you said. “I’m just going to do my homework and then sleep early. Hopefully it’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

“It looks like there’s going to be a nasty storm tonight, so that could be what’s messing with you,” your mother said, confirming your earlier thoughts. “On the bright side, your father and I won’t have to water the plants.”

“That’s good,” you said as she got up, pressing a kiss to your forehead and closing your curtains so that only your dim, warm lamp lit the room.

“Text me if you want me to bring up some ibuprofen for you,” she said. “But finish that soup first. It’s not good to eat on an empty stomach.”

“I’ll keep you posted, but I think just getting to bed is going to do the most good at this point,” you said. “Thanks again, mama.”

“I miss when you used to call me that all of the time,” she said. “Now my baby’s growing up. Soon you’re going to get married and leave your father and I all alone.”

“Not for a while,” you said with a smile. She scrunched up her nose and blew you a kiss.

“I’ll leave you alone. I hope you feel better soon, honey. Try not to work too hard,,” she said, shutting the door gently, so that it did not slam.

Your homework took you a couple of hours, and it was dark by the time you finished. Only the thought of the further aggravation it would bring should you not complete it managed to push you through the maddening exercise, as your headache had not lessened any in that time. If anything, the steady process of your schoolwork only made it worse, and it was all you could do to get ready for bed before diving in between your sheets and burying your face back in your pillow, drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

You had many dreams that night, most of them unrelated, though the common thread was Karasu. He was in all of them, whether in the background or as a main focus, and indeed when you woke up gasping and in a sweat, his face was the only thing you remembered.

Based on the sun streaming through the window, you had slept for the entire night. An unfamiliar alarm was blaring from your nightstand, and you reached out to silence it before pausing.

The room you were in was not your own. It was different, the sheets a deep navy shade, the blanket a plain gray, an L-shaped desk with a PC on it in the corner. There was a shelf beside the desk, books shoved in between gold soccer trophies — soccer trophies?

“What the fuck?” you said before clapping your hands over your mouth, your jaw dropping as you scrambled out of the bed, your limbs flailing about when the drop ended up being smaller than you had anticipated. Grabbing your phone off of its charger — what the hell was with that bland case? — you raced over to the mirror propped up by the closet.

Upon seeing the reflection in it, you screamed, because for some reason, instead of your own body, it was Tabito Karasu’s staring back at you. You raised one hand and then the other, hoping and praying that it wasn’t real, that you were hallucinating or something, but the reflection followed your movements exactly. When you pinched yourself, that, too, hurt, which meant that somehow, this was happening.

If you were in Karasu’s body, then what about your own? Was he in yours, or had it just vanished or something? You turned on his phone, unlocking it using Face ID and opening the call app. You doubted he had you saved as a contact — after all, the two of you had stopped being friends long before either of you had gotten cellphones — so you went straight for typing in your number, pausing for a moment as it suggested a contact name.

Y/N <3

“What?” you said. There were so many things that needed to be unpacked there, but you decided it wasn’t even worth considering. You had more pressing issues; namely, how had this preposterous situation even developed?

Clicking on the Y/N <3 contact, you held the phone up to your ear, hoping that whoever currently had possession of you would pick up instead of ignoring the call.

“Hello? Who is this?” Hearing your own voice on the other end of a call would ordinarily have been one of the most disconcerting things to happen to you in the last twenty-four hours, but considering you were still reeling from whatever body-swapping nonsense had just transpired, it ended up being kind of underwhelming.

“Karasu?” you said. There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you prayed they would not hang up.

“Y/N?” he said after a moment.

“Yes!” you said.

“So you’re in my body? I was wondering what might’ve happened to me…” he said, trailing off thoughtfully.

“What the hell is going on? Why am I you, and why are you me?” you said. “More importantly, how do we switch back?”

“How would I know? I’m just as lost as you are. By the way, um, why don’t you have my number saved?” he said.

“That’s what you’re choosing to focus on?” you screeched. “There is a dick attached to me! I have a genuine, bona-fide dick right now, and more specifically, it’s your dick! How about we focus on that?”

“Sorry,” he said. “But also, I was trying not to think about that. This is already weird enough, why’d you have to make it worse?”

“I’m trying to impress upon you just how dire our situation is,” you said. “By the way, while we’re on the subject, don’t even think of looking down my shirt. I’ll kill you if you do.”

“I wouldn’t,” he protested.

“Uh-huh,” you said. “Whatever. What are we going to do now?”

“How did this even happen?” he said. “Maybe if we work backwards, we can figure out what we have to do to fix it. What were you up to last night?”

“I just did homework,” you said. “And then I slept. I had a really bad headache, so I didn’t do much.”

“Wait, I had one, too,” he said.

“That doesn’t really mean anything. It’s not like headaches are uncommon,” you said.

“It’s a start, okay? I’m trying here! Why can’t you be cooperative for once?” he said.

“Why can’t you be cooperative for once?” you muttered under your breath, finding that the mockingly high-pitched voice sounded much more derogatory in Karasu’s harsh tones than it ever had coming from you. “Fine. When’d your headache start?”

“While we were walking back from school,” he said. “To my house.”

“That’s about when it happened for me,” you said. “Now that you mention it, it was right after—”

“—right after we talked to that old lady,” he completed for you. “Two steps ahead of you.”

“No, you just cut me off. That doesn’t mean you were ahead of me,” you said. “It just means you’re rude.”

“Sure, sure, whatever,” he said. “Do you think this is that gift the old lady was talking about?”

“Hm,” you said. “You think she was serious about that?”

“It’s as good a guess as any. Back then, I figured she was full of bullshit, but what if she actually does have some kind of supernatural powers?” he said.

“Then this is all your fault!” you said.

“What?” he said.

“You heard me. Why’d you have to be such an asshole to her, huh? Like always. Jeez. You can’t help but be a jerk and fuck things up, can you?” you said. “Well, we’re going to be late for school if we don’t get a move on, so I guess the only option we have is getting through the day and then going to visit her after classes.”

“I don’t — do you really think so?” he said.

“Obviously? She’s the biggest suspect at the moment, but I’d really prefer if we didn’t miss school. What with board exams and all coming up…” you said.

“Never mind,” he said. “Anyways, why do you care? It’s not like you do anything but draw in class.”

“How’d you know that?” you said. “Are you some kind of stalker or something?”

“I’m not a stalker. I just…pay attention to people,” he said.

“Sure,” you said. “And you put little heart emoticons after everyone’s contact names, too. How’d you even get my number?”

“You saw that?” he said.

“How do you think I called you?” you said.

“Oh,” he said. “We were in a class group chat together in seventh grade.”

Now that he mentioned it, you did recall something along those lines, although of course, you had not saved his number in return. You hadn’t seen a need to — out of everyone in that class, you would’ve texted him for help last.

“Okay,” you said. “Bye.”

You hung up immediately, finding the entire discussion to be unproductive, and then you sighed. It seemed that, for now, you were stuck as Karasu; massaging your sore jaw, you gave up on procrastination and began to get dressed for the day.

Somehow, you were able to get through it with minimal embarrassment, and you even shaped his hair into the style he preferred, which you were particularly proud of, given how absurd it was. You could only hope he was showing your own body the same kindness you were reluctantly giving his.

“Good morning, Tabito,” his mother said absently when you strolled into the kitchen.

“Morning, Mrs. — Mom!” you said. “Mom. Good morning.”

It would be a little strange if Karasu began referring to his own mother as Mrs. Karasu. You had to keep in mind that to everyone else, you were no longer Y/N L/N, and if you didn’t want them all to treat you like you were insane, you had to play the part of Tabito Karasu in a convincing manner.

“Time for breakfast?” she said. You nodded.

“Do we have any cereal?” you said. She furrowed her brow at you.

“Cereal? You made us throw it all away because it was too sugary, remember? Your energy bars are in the pantry, though, and there’s apples in the fridge if you want,” she said.

Your eye twitched. A health freak, really? His body and soccer career were impressive, but did both really take so much maintenance that he restricted himself from even cereal?

“Thanks,” you said, rifling through the pantry, picking out a random bar and an apple to snack on as you walked to school. “See you later!”

“See you,” Mrs. Karasu said, not even looking up from the laptop she was working at. You frowned, used to your own mother, who always responded with as much energy as you gave her. Brushing it off as the relationship she and her son must’ve had, you bit into your apple and vowed not to think about it further.

The energy bar was absolutely disgusting; you weren’t sure how Karasu could stand to eat them on a daily basis. It was some German brand with an umlaut in the name, and it tasted like cardboard coated in glue. You were barely able to force it down your throat, but you knew a mere apple wouldn’t last you until lunch, so you had no other choice. Still, it put you in a foul mood and set the tone for the day, which, considering what tone had already been created by your migration into Karasu’s body, was not a good thing.

“Karasu! Hey, Karasu, wait up!” You had no idea what his name was, but as soon as you walked into the school building, a boy was shouting out after you, panting as he sprinted to catch up. From your vague knowledge, he was one of Karasu’s friends and soccer teammates, though not one he was particularly close with. “You deaf or something, man? I’ve been trying to get you to slow down for ages! What’s the rush?”

“Rush?” you said.

“Why’re you walking so fast? First period doesn’t start for another ten minutes,” he said.

“Sorry,” you said. There had been no intention behind your pace, actually. It was just that you were unused to the length of Karasu’s stride and so found yourself going along at a far greater clip than you meant to. “I didn’t realize.”

“Okay, Captain,” he said. “I get it. Some of us are just average guys, you know, so let’s keep it nice and easy, alright?”

“Yup,” you said. His friend squinted at you.

“You’re being oddly nice today,” he said. “I don’t like it one bit.”

“We’ve been speaking for all of two minutes, how can you tell that already?” you said. His friend cocked his head at you before elbowing you in the side. You blinked at him. He blinked back, and then he punched you in the arm. You barely even felt it, so you didn’t react, which only caused his friend to wail.

“See? What are you plotting? You only act this nice when you’re planning to be really mean later! What did I do to you? Is it because I went and studied with L/N’s friends? I’m sorry! Just hit me, please, and let’s get it over with!” he said.

“Why would I care if you studied with my — with L/N’s friends?” you said. “And I’m not hitting you, dude, calm down.”

“You’re always calling them mediocre,” he said. “Though I guess you call everyone mediocre, so that’s not really saying much.”

“Of course,” you said dully, unconvincingly. “Mediocre. That is what I think of them. Absolutely.”

His friend shrugged. “They’re not that bad, though, in all honesty. You shouldn’t be so hard on them just because you wish L/N was friends with you instead. She doesn’t even like you, bro. You should just give up.”

Your mind went blank at this. “I wish that who was what with who now?”

“Oh, are we back in the denial stage? My bad,” his friend said.

Karasu wanting to be friends with you? It was a laughable idea. He was the one who had left first. Your dislike was only a symptom of that, of the act which he had never explained nor apologized for, and he knew that as well as you did. He was popular, too, even more popular than you were — which was saying something — so what use would he have in befriending you? This boy was delusional. Or maybe there was another Y/N L/N at the school. You doubted it, but wasn’t it technically a possibility? At any rate, it was more plausible than Karasu harboring any kind of affection for you.

When you entered your first period classroom, you almost made the mistake of walking to your normal desk. In fact, you were about halfway there when you realized that your desk partner was giving you an odd look, her face souring with every step you took. For a moment, you considering asking her what was wrong, since the two of you usually got along well, but then you remembered — you were Karasu at the moment, and though you had never told her in your own body how much you detested him or why, she had picked up on it through the course of the semester.

Turning on your heel, you made a beeline for Karasu’s normal seat. His partner was unfamiliar to you, but you couldn’t recall Karasu ever talking much to him, so it probably didn’t matter much that you had no idea who he was.

“’Sup, Karasu,” his partner said.

“’Sup,” you said, omitting his name and hoping he didn’t find it strange. Thankfully, his partner only nodded at you before returning to his homework, which he was completing in the seconds before the bell, for some reason. You rifled through Karasu’s bag and pulled out his own paper, which was perfectly done, missing all of the adornments which often littered your assignments. You believed that this week, you had drawn a little cat playing with a ball of yarn next to your answers. You were sure it would delight your teacher immensely, at least based on her reactions to the previous doodles you had included, though you also had a sense Karasu would judge you when he saw.

The class passed by even slower than it usually did. If you started drawing to while away the time, you’d make your desk partner suspicious, so you had nothing to waste your energy with, bar watching the minute hand creeping along against the clock.

After all, Karasu was an attentive person, raising his hand in class to answer every question the teacher asked, the first to know how to solve a problem and the first to explain it upon prompting. It was another one of those things that made him so well-liked; despite his brusqueness, he really was willing to help people out if they needed it, in his own insolent way.

It was unnerving. When did you learn so much about Karasu? You thought you had been ignoring him quite successfully. You could hardly even tolerate him, so why were you so knowledgeable on the kind of person he was, his routines and friends and quirks? Was it an old habit that, even now, you could not quite put out of your mind? A remnant of that former friendship? You had not understood until you took on this new role how much of him you were still familiar with, how much of him was still the same as you had remembered.

At lunch, you headed over to the table where Karasu’s friend group was waiting, giving your own friends a mournful glance as you did so. Karasu was sitting in your normal spot, listening to your best friend as she ranted about something. There was a small frown on his — your? — face, as if she was saying something that he didn’t agree with but was too scared to speak up against.

“Bro, enough with the longing stares. This shit is embarrassing.” You were shocked out of your trance by someone socking you in the abdomen. Doubling over with a cough, you glared at Karasu’s best friend, wondering why every one of his relationships was so violent.

“What was that for?” you said, shoving your shoulder into him so that he would move over. He did so willingly, albeit not without a snicker as you set your lunch down beside him.

“Just saying,” he said. “Now that we know what your deal is, you can hardly expect us not to mention it.”

“My deal?” you said.

“Told you he’s back in the denial phase! As if we didn’t just have an hour long confessional video call last night,” Karasu’s teammate from earlier said.

“Huh?” you said. Karasu hadn’t mentioned anything about an ‘hour long confessional video call’ when you had been discussing what you had done the night before the body switch. Actually, he hadn’t mentioned anything at all. You had brought up your headache before he had gotten the chance, and then the two of you had jumped topics to the old lady, so he hadn’t needed to.

“You don’t remember?” his best friend said, clearing his throat and lowering his voice in what you were sure was meant to be an impression of Karasu’s. “I miss Y/N so much. Sooooooo much. Sosososososo much.”

He burst into laughter, high-fiving their teammate. You gave them an unimpressed look, which only made the duo laugh harder. The rest of the table seemed similarly amused, though they had the dignity to not giggle about it aloud.

“It wasn’t like that, exactly,” a different one of Karasu’s teammates said, taking pity on you. “But I definitely recall you going through a crisis about how you wished you could be friends with her again, and how you secretly miss her and whatnot.”

“You mentioned some freaky lady, too,” his best friend said. “That’s what prompted you to spill your guts to us, wasn’t it? She started going on about how she knew your past, and then L/N said she didn’t like you and didn’t want to spend even a minute more with you, which made you so depressed that you yelled at the old lady and L/N.”

“Um, I don’t think I yelled at Y/N — L/N,” you said. As far as you could recall, he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary to you, though perhaps it was just that you were used to him being caustic and had brushed it off.

“What’s with you?” his best friend said. “Just yesterday, you were throwing a fit about how you’d never be able to fix things with her, and now you’re all nonchalant about it? You need to see a doctor.”

“Why would I even want to fix things with her?” you said. “We’ve not liked one another for a while.”

His friends all exchanged looks before his best friend, apparently the designated spokesperson, shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Are you feeling alright?” he said.

You could not answer this truthfully. Of course, you were, at the moment, feeling the furthest thing from alright, but how could you say that to them? Oh, actually, I feel shitty, mostly because I’m currently stuck in someone else’s body. Wait, did I forget to mention that? Well, surprise, I’m Y/N L/N! Not Tabito Karasu. By the way, am I supposed to aim when I take a piss, or is this like a freestyle thing? They would have you hauled off before you could say ‘creepy old bat with possible witch powers.’

“I’m fine,” you said.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Did you, uh, get into your dad’s liquor cabinet last night by any chance?”

“Not that I know of,” you said, which was as sincere as you could get. Whether Karasu was an underage drinker or not was none of your business, but for what it was worth, you didn’t think that you were hungover at the moment, so either he complied with the law and stayed sober, or he handled his alcohol better than he probably ought to at this age.

“Right, then,” he said. “Just let us know if anything changes and you need to skip practice or something.”

Practice? There was no way you could go to practice. Even if you were piloting Karasu’s well-conditioned body, you had nothing resembling his soccer know-how or field awareness. You’d fail miserably if you had to attend, and what then? He’d get kicked off of the team and be denounced as a fraud, maybe, and it’d be your fault. It was a worst-case scenario, but it was still a scenario, and one you didn’t want to consider further.

“You know, I do feel a bit queasy. Maybe you guys are right,” you said. “I think I’m off today.”

“For you to be admitting that aloud means the problem is worse than we realized,” one of his friends said.

“We’ll let the coach know you had to go home sick,” his best friend assured you. “Don’t worry about it. You haven’t missed a practice yet, so he won’t be mad.”

“That’s right! Rest up, Captain. We need you at your best for our game this weekend,” another teammate said.

They were kind of sweet when they weren’t pummeling one another, you thought. It wasn’t in the warm, affectionate, supportive way of your friends, but they showed their caring in whatever manner they could. You didn’t prefer it, but you could see how someone would.

It wouldn’t have seemed like a role reversal to anyone else, but you alone recognized it for what it was. Waiting in the spot that Karasu had been yesterday, you made designs in the dirt with the toe of your left sneaker, periodically glancing at his phone for the time.

“You waited for me!” he said.

“Ahh!” you said, jumping backwards, your back smacking against the wall. Being this close to your body, hearing your voice and knowing it wasn’t coming from you, was perturbing, and you narrowed your eyes, leaning forward and inspecting it. “Hey. Looks like you didn’t fuck things up too terribly. My hair is its original color, and I’m not breaking out anywhere, so it’s a success story in the end.”

“What about you? D’you go around doing dumb bullshit to make me seem like an awful person?” he said. Though it sounded like you, the words were so utterly Karasu that it was obvious he was the one speaking.

“Why would I do that?” you said.

“Dunno,” he said. “Apparently you hate me more than I realized.”

“And that came as a surprise?” you said.

“Kind of,” he said as you began walking towards the part of town where you had met the old lady. “I thought you were just indifferent to me. Didn’t know it was that bad.”

“Do you even know why?” you said. “Or do you just think I’m mediocre and unreasonable and annoying?”

He looked at the ground instead of at you. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You don’t,” you said. “You went and you made your new friends and that was that.”

“Wait, what?” he said in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about? What are you talking about? I’m referring to why I don’t like you, of course,” you said.

“Isn’t it because I’m not good enough?” he said. Before you could stop yourself, you were scoffing at him. His shoulders slumped.

“Are you fishing for compliments? Save it, jerk. You haven’t changed a bit,” you said.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “That’s the reason, right? You’re Y/N L/N. You draw all over your homework and are still the teacher’s favorite, you’re good at school without even trying, and you only talk to people you approve of.”

“What about you?” you snapped. “You think I’m perfect? You’re the captain of your fancy-ass soccer team, everyone at school loves you, you’re smart and talented and good-looking, and you know it! You walk around like you think you’re better than everyone — like you think you’re better than me! You told your entire group how you wished you could be friends with me, right? We were friends! Until you decided that, for some reason, we couldn’t be.”

“I didn’t decide that,” he said. “You stopped talking to me.”

“What did you expect, that I’d just keep hanging around someone so horrible?” you said. “You completely ignored me once we started school. I tried to talk to you, to acknowledge you, but you just acted like you had no idea who I was. Why would I ever, ever be friends with someone like that?”

“That’s why?” he said. “You’re mad about how I acted when I was six? That’s a little immature, don’t you think? We’re obviously not in grade school anymore. I mean, it’s a little unwarranted for you to be holding a grudge for this long.”

“You were my only friend back then,” you said. “You were my only friend, and you left me alone. I don’t want anything to do with you. You were a pain as a child and you’re a pain now.”

“A pain?” he said. “You wanna talk about being a pain? You decided you didn’t like someone when you were a kid, and you’ve refused to change your mind about them in the years since. It’s not like I haven’t tried! Do you think your mother was incapable of driving over and grabbing her purse? Do you think mine suddenly forgets the route to your house every time she leaves something there? I want to see you. I make up excuses to be with you, but you’re so damn hostile that it doesn’t matter! What am I supposed to say? Hey, Y/N, I really like you. I think you’re cool. I wish that things were as effortless for me as they are for you. And that side-eye of yours? Totally appealing.”

“Because appealing to you is my life goal,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“I don’t think appealing to anyone is in your playbook,” he said. “You just do what you want, and it works out somehow.”

“As opposed to you?” you said. “Whether it’s an innate skill or an earned talent, at least I don’t have a stick up my ass about it. I would ask you if it’s uncomfortable, but considering I’m in your body right now, I can answer that it’s not, really, which is impressive, considering how big it must be. Got some preferences you want to share?”

“Seriously?” he said. “You’re pulling out that kind of joke now?”

“Just trying to method act,” you said. “Since I’m you and all. It’s your modus operandi, isn’t it? You can’t help but criticize people, even when they’ve done nothing wrong. Even when you’re the one who's done something wrong. You’d rather blame me than apologize, but despite what you say, it doesn’t matter how long ago it happened. It hurt my feelings. The fact that you don’t recognize that is all the proof I need that you’re just as self-centered now as you were back then. Forget about trying to be friends with me. You’re right: I only talk to people I approve of, and you’re not one of them. The second we’re back in our original bodies, I want you to leave me the hell alone.”

Karasu’s body’s superior athleticism allowed you to put enough distance between you two that you could clear your mind. This was the first time that either of you had had anything resembling a proper conversation since you were kids, and it had not exactly gone the way you had wanted it to.

What had you wanted? You weren’t sure. Maybe for him to apologize. Grovel and tell you that he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant any of it, that he had an explanation for why he had treated you like a stranger instead of a friend, some magical clarification that would make everything better again.

Somehow, he caught up to you. You must’ve slowed down as you were thinking, the speed of your mind and the length of your stride not quite correlating. He was huffing, though, which did bring you some measure of gratification — which vanished when you remembered that it was your body which was struggling in comparison to his and not the other way around.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Really, I am. I didn’t want to hurt you. I know that I did, but it wasn’t — it wasn’t my intention. It just happened, and then before I knew it, it was too late for me to stop things from blowing up. And once they did, I avoided the mess I had made as best as I could, because I was too afraid of facing your distaste to do anything to remediate it. I thought it would be worse if I brought it up and you still kept avoiding me than if I never made an attempt at all.”

“Why’d you even do it in the first place?” you said.

“You want an explanation?” he said. You nodded. He shrugged. “I’m sorry. There really isn’t one. Sometimes it’s just like that. I was dumb, and when the other boys in class told me it was lame to be friends with girls, I believed them. I know it’s not right, but that’s really all there was to it.”

“Oh,” you said.

“Expecting fairness from a six year old is a little much, don’t you think?” he said, not unkindly. “I should’ve apologized earlier, I would’ve, but I didn’t realize that that was the reason you spurned me at all. I thought it was because, well, I mean…you’re so you. You’re amazing, and now that I’ve lived your life, that fact is only all the more evident to me. You’re so wonderful, Y/N, and I’m just the mediocre Tabito Karasu. It was only natural that you left me behind. I’ve spent this entire time trying to become someone you’d look at again, but no matter how much effort I put forth, it was never enough. You never did.”

You both had wanted the same thing. For all those many years you had run from one another, you and he had only ever wanted to be with each other. But you had thought Karasu had abandoned you, and he had thought you were too good for him, and so you both had denied yourselves that very thing, which had always been within your grasp, if only one of you had made a genuine effort to reach out and take it.

Stopping, you turned to face him. Squeezing your eyes shut — it was a little awkward, after all, gazing into your own eyes when you were being so vulnerable — you extended your pinky finger out to him, waiting for him to interlock his with yours, like you had when you were children.

“Let’s be together again,” you said, the moment he did so. “For good this time.”

“For good,” he agreed. A cold, slimy sensation slithered down your back, and you opened your eyes with a shiver, only to find yourself looking up at Karasu’s face, his actual face, not the one he had borrowed from you. His lashes fluttered open, and when he noticed you standing in front of him, back in possession of your own body, his eyebrows drew together in confusion before his expression cleared with understanding.

Not even bothering to detangle your pinkies, he interlaced the rest of his fingers with yours. Then, for the first time in years, he gave you one of his sweet, genuine, lopsided grins.

“What the hell? I could’ve sworn this was where she was!” Karasu said, pointing at the storefront where you had encountered the old lady. Somehow, miraculously, it had vanished, replaced with a bustling restaurant that seemed to have been there forever.

“How’d they set up a new restaurant in the span of a day?” you wondered. “That wasn’t there before, I’m sure of it.”

“I was going to give that woman a piece of my mind,” he whined.

“Watch your mouth, baby crow,” you said. “Who knows? Next time you yell at her, she might turn you into one.”

“Would you kiss me and turn me back into a prince if she did?” he said, puckering his lips at you.

“Prince, my ass. You’re still on thin ice, so don’t push it,” you said.

“Alright,” he said amenably. “You know what? Maybe it’s for the best that she’s gone. I think she’s one of those people that you’re only meant to meet once in your life.”

“Very wise,” you said. “The time you spent in my body must’ve had a positive effect on your mentality.”

“Ha, ha,” he said. “Hilarious. C’mon, you have to hang out with me today. You’re the reason I’m missing practice, so entertain me.”

“I guess I don’t have that much homework to do, so I don’t mind,” you said. “Okay. Your place or mine?”

“You pick,” he said. “Though we are over halfway to my house already. And my cat does miss you. Just saying.”

“Convincing argument,” you said. “Lead the way.”

As the two of you turned in the direction of Karasu’s house, your conversation flowing as easily as if you had never not been friends in the first place, the owner of the restaurant ducked out to flip the sign from open to closed.

“Oh, are you shutting down for the day already?” a young man said, frowning at her. The old lady only smiled at him mysteriously.

“Once my work’s done, it’s done,” she said. “Why would I stay open longer than that?”

The man gave her an odd look before wandering off, perhaps aware that arguing with the eccentric old lady would be more trouble than it was worth. The old lady paid him no heed, folding up a stray menu and holding it to her heart as she watched you and Karasu disappear into the distance, chuckling self-indulgently all the while.

Welcome to Freaky Friday! Ask your server about our special — critics call it life changing!

[nerdieforpedro]

The Brave, the Bold, The Dirty - Fanfics that I adore

Volume 4

All fanfics on this list are for readers age 18 and up, please respect the author's tags, warnings and notes as they're there so you know what's in them. Read at your own risk.

A Slice of Life Day by @linzels-blog (Din Djarin x GN reader)

Bakers are killing it with Pedro boys this holiday season. Our reader shows the clan of two how to bake some goodies for Life Day. Cue all the feels.

Loser by @kiwisbell (Frankie "Catfish' Morales and Fem reader)

The reader is friends with Frankie and helps him celebrate his birthday. Teaching Frankie is it's own reward as he's a hands-on and enthusiastic student. Catfish needs all the help he can get.

Exposed by @maggiemayhemnj (Ezra x GN reader)

Out of a haze, feelings that neither of them thought were reciprocated were made clear, as were events from before things became murky. It reads like an epic poem.

Face to Face by @bluebeary-jay (Din Djarin x Fem Mandalorian reader)

The reader and Din are riduurs, as such the helmets can come off. But are they ready? All the fluffy fluff.

Frankie & Din by @avastrasposts (Din Djarin x Frankie Morales)

Who would have ever pictured these two meeting? It's genuinely sweet and funny. They should have their own sitcom with Grogu "Two Pilots and a Foundling."

Don’t Drink the Punch by @wildemaven (Dave York x Fem reader)

Soft Dave York needs his own warning. He does make boring work parties 100 times better. Complements to the tie.

Watercolor by @iamskyereads (Pero Tovar x Fem reader)

The reader hopes to one day capture the Knight she pictures fore herself in her sketches. Taking over for the bath girl was an enlightneing experience.

Sex on Fire by @katiexpunk (Firefighter Joel x Fem reader)

The reader had moved to New York into her aunt's apartment. Her aunt was neighbor's with Joel, now she is. Let the burn start.

You Belong With Me by @lowlights (Dieter Bravo x plus size Fem reader)

Let no one ever tell you that Dieter Bravo wouldn't give all the toys you want. Any type of toys you asked for, and will ensure you try out every single one.

At the Garden Inn by @batdarkladyvampir (Dieter Bravo x curvy Fem reader)

The reader is a manager of a B&B in Arizona. Not a place one would expect to see Dieter Bravo. She didn't expect that Bravo would take more than a liking to her either.

Sky Drabbles by @frenchiereading (Frankie Morales x Fem reader)

The sky keeps changing and so do the reader's and Frankie's feelings for each other. They roll on like the clouds, growing into something more maybe? Might find out beyond the horizon.

Linger On by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (Joel Miller x fem reader)

To the reader, Joel is like a bad penny, he keeps popping up. Maybe she wants him to, maybe she's mad that she wants him to. All the angst. Rambler's a master at it.

Resting Eyes by @frenchiereading (Joel Miller x fem reader)

Frenchie is having a blog milestone celebration 🎉 A cozy celebration. I sent her an ask with a Pedro boy and a prompt (reader and Joel reading aloud to each other) and this sweet domestic fic is what she created with that little of information. I love her ❤️ I am biased, but this applies to the entire list (maybe Frenchie a smidge more 😘)

Yours by @wheresarizona (Dave York x fem reader)

Hot smut + possessive Dave with a generous slathering of Soft Dave. Read this and enjoy, you'll thank your eyes later.

White Christmas by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (Dieter Bravo x fem reader)

Not everyone has happy holidays with their family because it's more stress than it is worth. So get away from it all and diddle your Dieter fast, slow, rough, with a dash of red or however you enjoy your diddles. Diddle deep and scream. 😝 Stay hydrated 💦

Give to me by @sp00kymulderr (Dieter Bravo x fem reader)

Dieter Bravo has feelings, a lot of them about our reader. He's running through them in the aftermath of the night before. He's all in, consumed and doesn't want to talk about it. Just wants more time. So sweet.

Please check out the fics on the list and support them by liking and reblogging. Authors enjoy interactions about their work. 🤓

[angelspathway]

( Not my gif)

Unbelievable: 42! Miles Morales x black fem! reader

Summary: the boy of my dreams

Trope: chubby loser girl and popular quiet boy trope. Maybe the tiniest bit of hood Miles.

Warnings: slightly suggestive and short.

Note: this is a little taste. Just to see the reactions.

Who wants me? A chubby, bullied girl who only had her academics to show. I wasn't pretty and had been used by every guy I entered into a relationship with. I gave up my innocence to some guy I thought loved me and I regret it every day. I thought I would never find a guy that wanted me for me and not for an experience. So, when a certain popular boy started sitting with me at lunch, I thought nothing of it. No seats maybe cause no way Miles G. Morales would sit with me out of his own free will. He wasn't even eating lunch, just spread out a poster, a few books sitting on the curled edges as he sketched out some type of graffiti art. Probably an art project. His hair was neatly cut with his signature twin braids hanging on his shoulders, his rough hand moving along the board, pencil scratching and squeaking with each messy line. I was so interested in what he was doing that I had completely forgot about my e-book and was scrolling mindlessly.

Suddenly, his hand stopped moving and I look up, meeting his cold gaze. My stomach flipped, hands becoming sweaty the longer he stared me down. His look could make any girl fold, the slight head tilt, the natural pout on his beautifully plump lips-

"You checking me out?” I met his gaze. He was smirking at me, gaze full of cold amusement. I didn't know how to respond as he stood up, making me think I creeped him out. Instead, he pushed his stuff near me before grabbing his bookbag and walking around the lunch table, sitting by me. Whatever cologne he was wearing was definitely drawing me to him as soon as it invading my senses. My eyes were still wide as he dropped his bookbag near mines, warm hand brushing against my thigh. " What's your name, ma?” my eyes almost crossed at the name that he already assigned to me. No way this was happening.

"Uh um.. (Your name)" he nods, continuing his project. "I'm sorry... didn’t mean to bother you-“

"You ain't bothering me, ma'am... Just moved so this pretty girl can see what I am doing." he interrupted, his fingers trailing down my arm under the table, grabbing my sweaty hand with a firm grip. His hand felt like magic in mines. My heart quicken as I moved closer him, still thinking about his words. I discarded my phone, watching him continue to sketch out something. My head was spinning and I wasn't thinking, letting my chin rest against his broad shoulder. He said nothing, just moved his hand away from mines, snaking his arm around my waist, fingers playing with the fabric of my uniform skirt. The butterflies were swarming my stomach at this point.

To think that I had one class with Miles, he was quiet and was the smartest student in my class, now he was flirting with me. He pulled me flushed into his side, putting his pencil down and turning his head to face me. Once again, I was looking into his eyes. He leaned in and I let him, our lips brushing together. My heart was beating in my ears as he tilted his head, about to kiss me, to seal whatever this was to be official. To seal the deal.

The bell rings and he pulls away, grabbing my hand. He gives it a sort kiss, keeping eye contact with me. He let me go completely, gathering his stuff and leaving. I touch my lips.

That was unbelievable.

[emmajh97]

⚡ Xenon Storm is Dead 👻

In high school, Xenon was in a band with his best friends Boreas and Bismuth. During a pyrotechnics malfunction, an explosion went off that blew up the auditorium and resulted in Xenon and Bismuth dying. Boreas survived, but he was never the same... Little did Boreas know that his two friends had come back as voided. Xenon wanted to tell Boreas, but Bismuth warned him to stay away from living people. "Do not subject them to this fate worse than death." But even in undeath, punk boy Xenon refused to listen or play by the rules. Xenon promised his best friend he'd always be there for him and, damnit, he was going to keep that promise! He could tell Boreas had gone down a dark path. Drowning himself in alcohol, breaking up with his girlfriend, alienating himself from everyone he knew, and affiliating himself with a local gang... Boreas was speeding towards the point of no return, and all Xenon could do was just watch. Boreas had been having panic attacks and night terrors ever since the incident in high school. His best friends were dead, his head trauma was severe, and the survivor's guilt was worse. Drinking seemed to be the only thing that numbed his brain enough to keep sane… and then, on the day he was going to prove to himself that he wasn't a hopeless loser… a ghost appeared. It was the day everything changed for Boreas. After running away, he had the worst psychotic break of his life... bad enough to finally convince him to stop drinking, leave the gang, and get actual help. Xenon, however, had a different fate. Several scientists had been trying in vain to find a cure for the Void infection... and to see one of them actually expressing emotions was unprecedented. If voided could get their tears back... who's to say they couldn't get their bodies back?

...

I think this is the first official introduction of my OCs and their story at least, the current iteration of it to my Tumblr! These neon-colored boys are from a planet called Yanori. Very similar to our world, but with a few interesting additions. I first sketched this comic back in November 2021. Glad to have finally finished it properly!

I'd be happy to share more about these characters if anyone was interested! :) I have lots of other comics and sketches of them (especially Boreas and Xenon ajkdfjkfsfl)

[clover0101]

I saw a yumeship week on twt so im hoping in even if mine is oc x canon idk the differences anymore

Day 1: first meeting!! I made a drabble and a sketch for this

(click expand to read)

The shouts, complaints, and arguments filled the common area of MILGRAM, which, despite being quite large, seemed to shrink more and more for the blue-haired boy. The footsteps of the other prisoners echoed along with the crying of some, others remained apart trying to think rationally about what was happening, but the only certain thing here is that nothing was rational.

Everyone woke up in an unfamiliar place, wearing prisoner's clothes, assigned numbers and cells, and given a brief explanation of why they were there - they had all ended someone's life, and it’s time for them to get their judgement. One group protested the accusation, another part accepted it and decided to remain silent. Despite listening carefully, Haruka could not fully understand it. The place seemed to function in a strange way, to say the least, and he had always been a bit slow to comprehend strange things.

The danger of the unknown and the nerves that interacting with others bring led him to just take a seat in one corner of the room, watching the chaos come and go in front of him. He hugged his knees, trying to make himself smaller. Sudden movements made him startle, but he couldn’t react in any other way, he didn’t want to leave his precious 'refuge' out of fear of bothering others. After all, he was different, and even if he wanted to contribute, he surely couldn’t do anything...

His thoughts were interrupted by a red-haired boy, who had apparently been arguing with a brunette man; "Hey, the guy in the corner!” he pointed directly at Haruka, taking steps that seemed intimidating towards the younger boy. The other man followed him closely. "This loser here says it would be better to wait and see what’s happening, but I think we should find the guard and kick their ass already. What do you say? We need strong people on our side."

"I don't think we could solve it just like that..." The brown-haired boy scratched the back of his neck, an uncomfortable smile on his face.

"Uh..." Haruka opened his mouth, trying to say something. Someone was talking to him... These two guys were looking at him right now. His heart was pounding from anxiety and he clenched his fists, his nails digging into his already wounded flesh. "I, uh, um... Ah, n-no... I-I D-"

"Pffft. Nevermind," the redhead interrupted before he could even finish the sentence, turning his back and returning to where the rest of the group was. You can't count on anyone here, he thought. Meanwhile, the other boy waved goodbye to Haruka, who hunched over and buried his face between his knees, closing his eyes tightly. He had barely arrived and already disappointed someone? This can’t be happening.

He remained silent for several more minutes, his eyes fluttering open when the argument seemed to calm down. A person was looking at him over their shoulder, their appearance standing out among the others due to an eyepatch and big, bright red eyes that seemed to stare right into his soul. They approached Haruka slowly, almost carefully to not to scare him, which made the boy slowly straighten up a bit, but not enough to make eye contact.

"Hey," their gentle voice made the boy startle even if they tried not to. "I know this can be hard to understand, you see, I'm a little scared too!" they accompanied their attempt at socializing with a laugh, standing beside him and leaning their back against the wall, their hands fidgeting restlessly in front of them.

A few seconds of silence passed, in which Haruka debated if he should even speak. His companion quickly realized, and just continued; "You don't talk much... right? Well, you might be lucky, because people often tell me I talk a lot!" they smiled, extending their hand downwards. "My name is Matsuo Hikaru, but you can just call me Hikaru. What's yours?"

He blinked a couple times, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Hikaru's pale hands, adorned with every color he could imagine, contrasting with the simple and plain prison uniform. He squirmed in his place, looking down again, embarrassed. He wasn’t able to look at them in the eye, fearing disappointing them as he did with the other man earlier. "Uh... My name is Haruka... Haruka Sakurai." he managed to murmur after a while of silence, daring to try to look the prisoner in the eye, but quickly glanced away again. "N-Nice to meet you, uh, Hikaru..." Is this what people say after introducing themselves? He shook his head, chewing on his lower lip.

"Ah! Haruka-kun is a cute name! And your hair is also quite cute, it reminds me of lobelias!" Hikaru extended their hands again, waving them as they spoke. The blue-haired boy ducks his head self-conciously, a faint blush tinting his cheeks at the praise. Why was this person being so nice to him? "Everything that's happening is strange, but I'm sure it'll turn out well... For you guys, at least," Haruka didn't fully understand what Hikaru meant by those last words, but for the first time in their encounter he looked up and nodded. He thought that, at the very least, Hikaru deserved that from him. For giving him some attention. "Ah, of course, Haruka-kun! We must be more optimistic. Not like that idiot over there, he's just giving everyone a headache."

Their complaint made Haruka's eyes open wide. He would never dare speak about anyone like that, much less if they could hear him. Still, he laughed a little, enjoying the conversation, even though the one talking the most was Hikaru. "Hah... I-I guess you're right..."

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Addressing some stuff about our posting

Anonymous asked:

your last spto post? Ever?

For now, at least. We’ve been posting spto stuff regularly for about 4 months now, and I haven’t been sketching anything new with the boys, and we hate forcing it, sooo. It’s better to move on! Even though we still love Todd/Wallace, Mobile/Wallace, all of the girls and other characters that we love… god I haven’t drawn Gideon once LOL what a loser *points at Gideon and laughs*

If I get inspired all of a sudden and draw something spto-related that we’d want to post, of course we’re going to do it! But that might not happen for a long time.

Anonymous asked:

Hi, I really love your art style. Can I request that you draw more Undertaker? There is little art of him available and I miss him so much!

Thank you so much, Anon! <3 I’m very happy you like it.

While I don’t do requests, Undertaker is a doofus and we love him very much, so I might actually draw him at some point in the future! We’ve been in a mood for some Kuroshitsuji stuff lately. I hope we’ll have some new Undertaker sketches to post soon…

Anonymous asked:

Where do people get off "critiquing" your own for-fun drawings because it doesn't match THEIR hc? Draw pigtail Lilia yourself, Anon.

Yeah, while I don’t think Anon meant anything bad or wanted to offend us in any way, it was a little confusing and uncalled for.

[prkwook]

CUPID 💌🏹

IN WHICH our cast plays cupid for their loser (endearingly) friends who can’t seem to take their own relationship advice.

CHAPTER 002. sneaky little tax evader (smau + written) 🎧

“HI!” you greet the boy that you’ve been not-so-secretly eyeing for the past hour and a half.

“Hi!” he smiles. you internally melt and almost don’t notice the hands belonging to the boy in front of you that are giving you a book to check out. He doesn’t break eye contact once. Usually, that would be a little odd and would kind of sketch you out but there’s just something about his big brown eyes that makes you feel safe.

“Will that be all for you today?” you ask. You’re the one to finally break eye contact, but only to quickly look down so you can locate the barcode and scan it. Your eyes graze over the cover, “The Crisis of the 3rd Century? Interesting choice…” You must have a quizzical look on your face because he laughs and it’s the most beautiful sound you think you’ve ever heard. 

“I know. It's one of my favorite things to whip out at trivia night. No one ever sees it coming! First, it’s the Quadratic Formula … easy peasy … and then Boom! It’s the near collapse of Ancient Rome! Well, that and the fact that Henry David Thoreau committed tax evasion. Multiple times.” 

“Oh my gosh, no way… no one ever knows about that! Every time I reference it, my friends think I'm some sort of nerd. Not that you’re a nerd or anything.” you could’ve rambled on and on but a thought pops up and stops you in your tracks. “I'm sorry, I just have to ask. Exactly how often do you think about the Roman Empire, and I’m not talking about The Gladiator (2000) with Russell Crowe all oiled up Roman Empire. I’m talking like actual Roman Empire?”

“Trust me … you don’t want to know. “ the pretty, brown haired boy replies while trying his best to look serious. It doesn’t work though because a few seconds later, he bursts into the same laughter as before and you swear your world stops for a second. All you can do is pray that he doesn’t hear your heart about to beat right out of your chest. In an attempt to hide your rosy cheeks, you look away from him and towards the register which now displays his total. 

“Your total is going to be $15.89 today, cash or card?”

He pulls out a $20 from what seems to be an off-brand Lightning McQueen wallet and hands it to you. You take it, put it in the register, and give him back his change. He takes it from you with a smile that you’re convinced could bring world peace and drops all $4.11 into the tip jar sitting on the counter in front of you. He says “Have a good evening.” to which you reply “you too.” and watch him walk out the door, bag and cup in hand.

“Woah, your cheeks are redder than a tomato. Be honest, on a scale of 1 to 10, how down bad are you?” Taerae, your best friend, questions as he walks over from his post at Bluebird, the in-store cafe that sits right by the checkout and also happens to give him the perfect view of what just went down.

You sigh and dramatically place a hand to your forehead as if you’re swooning. “I fear I’m in love and I don’t even know his name.”

🔭 ★ mlist. previous. next.

☆★ TAGLIST:  @annoyingbitch83 @vernonburger @doiedecimal @taekwondoes @imthisclosetokms @kaynunu (bold can't be tagged ; pls check your settings + make sure u can be tagged ... ty ^_^)

want to join? -> taglist form . 🫀

[sk3tch404]

Nah seriously though what drugs did you add to make Jayce this amazing/handsome/ iconic / beautiful/ insanely hot / and more culturally significant than the renaissance

Trauma dumping and self projection /srs (This is why he is so miserable 😮) PLEASE THO IM OK- Shawty yk especially when im goin down the drain.

ALSO TYSM FOR ALWAYS SUPPORTING JAYCE AND HIS SHENANIGANS!!! I LOVE U TOO MUCH FOR THIS SHAWTY <33

And believe it or not, the only reason he exists is because of the OG mha designs. Emo Izuku clicked smth in me.

I needed to make a loser boy for myself.

I don't know how or why he is so cute. It just sorta... Happened. He just appeared. And I'm never letting go. He is OUR BOY.

Nah but jokes aside, Jayce originally was inspired by both OG deku and Sally Face. He had blue hair and pale skin that made him look half dead.

I really wanted him to look like Sal Fisher, but blue hair wasn't doin too hot with his design. I didn't want him to be blond because i felt as if I was being lazy and giving up. But it turned out I really liked it! I wanted him to have a little spice/accent to him so there went his purple streak!

Tbh I have little to no creativity for male fashion, so I just slapped on what I wear when I'm masc.

I just made him look like a loser junkie. Muahhahaha

I actually considered purple eyes bc I have a weird love for characters with them, but it in the end it would fight for attention with the streak and necklace.

His fav color actually isn't purple despite it being the color that grabs your attention to his design at first! It's Rory's lol. Not a huge spoiler, but it's smth that connects them 🤧 Gosh do I love their secret lore that hasn't been revealed yet...

And don't ask me abt freckles. I forgot. All ik is that they are so satisfying to draw and that he is hella insecure abt it.

Rory came out bc I had an OC sugar rush and boy am i glad he is here 😭 Jayce's lore would be 10x more boring without him.

I wanted Rory to be an bad boy emo little whiny bitch, but ugh, it totally just didn't click out. The hair was a issue within itself, the jacket wasn't very special, his tight v-neck shirt felt forced, his accs were troubling, but his little officer hat was very loved. ^^

He is Valentine inspired now! (Monster high) ain't that funny? Since Rory's route does revolve around Valentines day lol

Elliot came after Rory's sketch. I was gonna scrap it and do this mafia guy i had drawn in 8th grade, but it just felt lazy and not him yk? I was in my Tokyo Revengers Bonten arc phase with that mafia guy... 😰 what an interesting hyperfixation heheha...

Pinterest is DISGUSTING with them bro. I only look at em once in a good while to ruin my boring day.

And Maxim and Anton are just cuties I took my time with. So I don't have anything bad or too significant to say about them 😉

[taechaos]

A Thriller Film

pairing: director!Jungkook x fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, yandere, smut

synopsis: Jungkook's life is his movies, but people don't know his movies are his life. As an anonymous director, no one can suspect him as the villain in a story, but he leaves a clue in his movie about you.

warnings: smoking, stalking, murder, solo masturbation, public fingering

word count: 5.4k

a/n: i don't know why i put so much effort into this but we love to see it flop 🥰

Smoking is bad, but there are worse things in life.

Jungkook noticed you for the first time when a cigarette was hanging off his lips, exhaling the stress from the process of organizing a new thriller film with a less than cooperative crew. Fresh out of high school, you were bright and skipping on the sidewalk in the early hours of the morning. What would such a young woman, applying for colleges left and right, be so happy about?

He didn't know you at the time, but looking at you was like a breath of fresh air. While he survived off of coffee and nicotine, you seemed to have a lot of happiness to share. Your smile was incompatible with his frown.

So he ignored you when you passed him with your earphones blasting a song so loud, he involuntarily caught the lyrics.

Fall... back... in... to... place.

The second time he saw you, he was smoking again and you were just as happy as the day before. How can someone be so in tune with themselves, with life? The same song played from your earphones, the one he listened to on repeat after searching up the lyrics: Space Song. An urge to approach you surged up in him, but he only watched you as you walked past him. A single glance from you was all it took to anticipate tomorrow.

Today, when he recognizes you from your clothing first; colorful, silky, gorgeous. So much personality in one outfit, a polar opposite to his casual black outfit in jeans and a plain shirt. Even your bag is eye-catching, and he flicked the ash off of his cigarette before nodding at you as you passed the bus stop, reaching the front of his studio.

Why did your eyes just widen? You acknowledge him with a friendly smile, and go on your merry way. That is until he lightly taps your shoulder, and you turn instantly.

"Hey," he greets before you can utter a word, "where are you always rushing off to?"

Your lips part in surprise; the man you secretly - guiltily - side-eyed for the past few days noticed you when you weren't looking? "I have an interview. Well, a few," you chuckle.

"For what?" he tilts his head curiously and takes another drag from his stick.

"Career counseling," you plainly reply, but it sounds enthused. "I'm a clueless graduate." Your hands clutch your tote bag before you discreetly check the time on your wrist. You're going to be running late soon.

"You interested in cinematography?" Smoke follows his words, but you aren't fazed.

"I'm interested in all forms of art, why?"

He notices you checking your watch again. "I'm a film director. This is my studio," he cranes his neck behind him. "You can apply for an internship here. Maybe for a stylist even," he points at your floral romper with his chin as his eyes trail.

You shift your weight on your left foot when his stare flusters you, and you consider his flattering suggestion for only a second before saying, "thank you for the offer, but I need to go now," you grimace sheepishly, "can I think about it?"

"Take your time," he reassures with a sly smile and inhales from his stick, filling his lungs with the sweet scent of your perfume alongside.

He doesn't look away when you walk off with a shy wave, entranced by your struts until he's called back in. It's with newfound inspiration that he's inside of his studio.

The storyboard of his upcoming project needs a few tweaks, and he doesn't fail in enhancing his crew with a different idea.

It’s been a week. Okay, it might’ve been shorter, but Jungkook is impatient. Besides, it didn’t help when he saw you holding hands with someone... so less than. It really baffled him to see you with a guy who wore such shabby clothes. He looks like the type that Jungkook would cast for a flop character.

The two of you are like a toy display across his studio in that cutesy, obnoxious café with a smoothie in the middle of your booth. He chuckles as he lights up another stick when he notices the two straws in the single cup. Cliché, cheesy, but cute in a childish sense. Your age shines through the amateur romance between you and that loser.

It especially shows when you look to the side with a laugh and lock eyes with him; so flustered that you gasp and focus back on your date. What makes you so shy about seeing him? You seemed so confident during your conversation two days ago.

He whistles when he notices a stray dog in an alleyway. You look at him as well but don't hear anything beyond the glass wall, but it catches his attention regardless. He whistles again before saying in a hushed voice, "come here girl." It's difficult to suppress a smile when you gaze at him questioningly, as if trying to decipher his words. "Naive little girl," he mouths as he smokes, "what are you doing with that boy?"

He almost chokes when you take out your wallet in front of a waiter; are you paying for him? That's why you ordered one drink - so you could share? Jungkook isn't cruel but, he finds it laughable that your boyfriend is so... unappealing. He can't help but wonder why you're with him; maybe his face? The boy is somewhat handsome, but he only has his facial features to go by. It's rather strange for Jungkook to think about this in the first place, so he gets back inside his workplace after harshly shooing the stray dog away with a stomp of his foot.

"I'd like to start my internship today."

Jungkook runs his eyes up and down your body while leaning against a brick wall. "Paid?"

"I-I'll do it for free. Besides, I don't know if I'll even work in this industry," you twiddle your fingers while smiling up at him. He intimidates you, but this morning you decided you did enough thinking and here you are, an aspiring stylist all of a sudden.

"Get inside," he nods at the door before stubbing his cigarette and following you to his studio. "You know what you're going to do?"

"I'm going to decide the outfits, right?" The place looks cozy to you, with its minimalistic interior design and blunt switch between the stories. The first floor is strictly for business, with lined up cameras, lights and a microphone. There is even a green screen! And the second floor seems to be more of a resting area with its couches and open laptops, but you can't make out much from the entrance. Jungkook starts walking ahead of you, making a beeline for the black stairs. You tail behind him and smile at anyone who notices you, which isn't a lot of people. It's not crowded.

"Right. We're still working on a storyline, haven't finished it yet so it's possible this project might not be published. You with me so far?" he glances at you, and at your firm nod, continues, "when we finish planning, scripting and shit, you come to play."

"So what do I do now?" you innocently inquire and watch him plop down on the red velvet couch. He clicks on the space of his keyboard to light up his screen.

"I have an idea for a character, and I want to know how you would design her," he vaguely explains as he scrolls through his document.

"You want me to sketch it or explain?"

"Let's hear you out first. Irene," he suddenly calls out loudly.

"Yes?" a female responds from downstairs. You see a woman with a grey cap look up at him, her attire nothing short of casual.

"Come here."

She skips a few steps while climbing up the stairs at his command. You're not awkward when you greet her, and she offers a coy smile.

"This girl - what did you say your name was?" he asks you. You tell him and he continues, "she's going to be our intern. I want you to critique her with me."

"What's she in for?" Irene asks before sitting across from him.

"Wardrobe stylist."

Her eyes widen as she takes a second look at you. Your style is definitely unique, but... immature. She has half the mind to not question Jungkook about his choice.

"Okay..." she trails. "I'm Irene, by the way. I'm going to be an executive producer for the upcoming film."

"Nice to meet you," you brightly chirp. "Sir?"

Jungkook smirks at your addressing of him. "Yes?"

"What is your name, if I may ask?"

"I'm Jeon Jungkook, but you may know me for my pen name Shin Dong-hyuk."

Your mouth falls open when you instantly recognize the name. "Wait, what? You directed My Time?" you incredulously wonder aloud.

My Time is a movie that took the world by a storm; it brought recognition to the whole country for its popularity and clever writing. You never knew the name was a pseudonym, however. It's a suspense genre, about the life of a crazed fanboy who is obsessed with a foreign celebrity. He stalks her on the internet, has a fanpage of her and pays a hefty amount of money to strangers to update him on her whereabouts. He's portrayed as a young college student in the story, and inevitably runs out of cash from reckless spending. When she gets into a dating scandal, he goes on a theft spree and flies out to meet and confront her. It ends with her murder when he finds her with another man in a hotel room, and he stabs himself in the heart afterwards. There are a bunch of clues that foreshadow his ending, from his family life to his friendships. It's an amazing thriller, and you researched his name in the credits to find more of his works after seeing the movie but to no avail; there is only one listed.

"That's me," he nonchalantly reveals as if he didn't just give you the shock of your life. "Don't tell anyone though, will you?"

You whimsically put on an imagery zipper over your mouth while trying to recover from your racing heart.

"I don't have a clear outline, but the female lead is going to be naive but charming. She has to stand out, alright? Happy, extraordinary, special."

"We didn't decide on that," Irene butts in with a displeased expression.

"I forgot to tell you, I deleted our previous plan."

"You did wh-"

"What do you think?" he turns to you as he ignores Irene's shrieks. "What color are you imagining?"

You feel nervous when he puts you on the spotlight after revealing his identity. You close your eyes with a deep inhale before answering, "I'm thinking red and green, like Christmas. There should be a hint of white as well."

Jungkook drinks in your outfit before grinning mischievously. "Perfect." All of your colors.

Stalking is bad, but there are worse things in life.

Is it such a bad idea to follow you home when it's dark out? He kept you for a long time in the studio, allowing you to dress up a mannequin with all sorts of costumes you had in mind in the backroom. He's certain you had fun with him when you left with a permanent grin on your face.

You live with your parents, and he knows for sure he's at least 5 years older than you. You look about 19, so he's assuming he's only 8 years older.

A small villa with windows all around, he observes, before glancing back at your bedroom. The lights are on and you're swinging your legs with excitement on your bed after you face planted on the mattress. He didn't see you greet your parents before running off to your room, and he can't help the smile growing on his face at your hyperactivity. It was like an instinct to walk you home in secret and he isn't sure why he is still watching you. He should look away when you get off of your bed and heave your shirt over your chest, but instead he steps away from the lamp post to hide from the light.

You're changing, and he can't take his eyes off of you. As if that wasn't enough, you unclasp your bra without even pulling the curtains. Do you know he's there? The thought excites him, and his pants begin to tighten around his crotch. He lowly whistles at you, but you don't hear him again. You do look outside for a few seconds while stretching your arms, however, and he's certain you have a connection to him.

He leaves when you put on your pajamas with the image of your bare tits imprinted on his mind. He doesn't head home first, as the studio is only a few minutes away from your home and he wants to leave you a gift.

When the familiar building enters his vision, he doesn't waste time in unlocking the door and switching on a single dim light. He rushes to the backroom after locking the entrance for a second time and unzips his jeans as he goes. You were here not too long ago, and he can pinpoint exactly where you stood while striding to each corner with purpose. Bending, crouching, leaning, doing just about anything to tease him.

Now that he can imagine your perky nipples realistically, he immediately takes out his length from his restraints and picks up a random handkerchief to pump himself with. He doesn't stop to think over his actions; he's acting on urges, on impulse. Never has he ever done something like this.

He's rather relaxed as he sits down on an idle stool to close his eyes and run his hand up and down his shaft. What he would do to press your tits against his cock while he slides it up and down, smearing his cum all over your lips while you sleep. You would swallow it without a second thought once he finishes in your gaping mouth, and wonder why there's a dull ache in your breasts the next morning.

His breaths grow shallow the faster he strokes himself, the more he thinks about using every part of you for his pleasure while you're knocked out cold. He involuntarily thrusts into the air while quiet moans slip out of his open mouth. Something about how taboo it would be to fuck you while you're unconscious turns him on so much. Would that be something you're into?

The handkerchief is so soft, so silky against his length, he can almost imagine it to be your hand. He starts twisting his hand around his cock, from the base to the tip as his other hand palms his balls before he begins to reach climax. Strings of cusses fall out of his mouth when he quickens his pace, the fabric against his skin resounding in his ears before he finally spurts out his cum into the cloth.

"Fuck," he exhales as he coats his makeshift glove with his release. White on white doesn't make much of a difference, and he's panting as he folds the handkerchief to rub it evenly so it sinks in completely.

He leaves it on the stool after zipping his pants, and his eyes twinkle under the moonlight on his journey home.

You aren't alone when you walk to work. Jungkook is taking his usual smoke break while watching you swing your interlocked hands back and forth with the guy next to you. Your smiles exude the same aura, and Jungkook sarcastically notes how compatible the two of you are. The boxy grin shines with the sun, but it doesn't hide the boy's worn out clothes.

"Good morning, Jungkook," you greet before introducing your boyfriend. "This is Taehyung, Taehyung meet Jungkook. I'm going to be under his wing until I decide my major."

"Hello, Taehyung," Jungkook coldly says before blowing smoke in his face.

Taehyung scrunches his nose before chirping, "hi!" He then turns to you and whispers, "I thought you wanted to study medicine."

You shake your head dismissively with a light laugh before responding, "it's just an internship." You let go of his hand and bid farewell with a peck on his cheek before going inside the studio.

"Well, have a good day," Taehyung smiles as he's about to leave before Jungkook holds out his hand to block the way.

"Taehyung, who is your girlfriend?"

"Um," he furrows his brows before saying your name.

"And who are you?"

At Jungkook's blunt question, Taehyung pauses and takes a step back. "What do you mean? Like my full name?"

"No, who the fuck are you? What is your contribution to society? What do you do for a living? What are you wearing?"

"Sir, I-" Taehyung's stammering is cut short when Jungkook asks, "how much money for you to stop leeching off of her?"

He scoffs, "excuse me? I'm not leeching off of anyone, and I'm sure as hell not breaking up with her for your money." Taehyung's face heats up from the shameless confrontation, and he starts walking in the opposite direction.

"So you're not going to leave her?"

Taehyung doesn't turn to look at him as he emphasizes, "no."

"Good."

He abruptly stops in his tracks. "What?"

"Your dedication is admirable," Jungkook comments with a shrug. "I'm satisfied with your answer."

"Were you testing me?"

"Bingo."

He starts chuckling before shaking his head. "I always knew directors were crazy; you scared me for a second."

"Where you headed now?" Jungkook smoothly switches the subject, but notes the fact that you've spoken about him to your boyfriend.

"I have a farm two blocks away." When Jungkook raises a brow, he explains, "I stayed the night with her, so I decided to drop her off before leaving."

"Want me to drop you off?"

It's a kind offer, really, but Taehyung is still put off by the insults thrown his way just a minute ago. Doesn't he have work to do anyway? "That's alright, thank you, but I'll just take the bus. Have a good one, Jungkook."

Jungkook doesn't stop him as they both wave goodbye. He doesn't bother putting out his cigarette before going inside.

Where would be a farm only two blocks away from the city center? It has to be a lie.

You're wandering around the place as to not awkwardly wait for Jungkook who sharply inhales at the sight. He calls your name.

"Yes?"

"What do you want to become?"

"I," you look at him funny with a laugh, "I still don't know."

"Then take a gap year."

Your brows shoot up to your hairline. "Why?"

"I want you to be invested in this project completely. Once the planning is finished, I'll give you a salary. What do you think?"

He's asking you to work full-time for him. Not as an intern, but an employee and you are beyond willing after only being here for two days. He's a famous director; how can one pass up this opportunity?

"I'd love that."

You noticed that Jungkook has a very unique way of working. You've heard that he's been keeping his crew until late at night, already having an outline for his plot and he's moved onto screenwriting. He apparently disappears randomly throughout the evening after you leave, and you've had some different experiences with him of your own.

He asked you to steal from the wardrobe of his backroom. "Take everything that you'd wear," he said before stepping out of the room.

When you confusedly compiled all of the clothes that caught your eye under your arm, he took them from you and brought them upstairs with a huge grin. "Keep that one," he pointed at the handkerchief you thought about lacing your neck with.

Taehyung's quiet with you. He doesn't respond to your texts, doesn't call you, doesn't come over. You're too busy spending time with Jungkook to check up on him, and it serves as a well distraction when you keep glancing at your notifications. It hurts, especially when your wallpaper is a picture of you and him. It hurts because he isn't with you in your proudest moments when you were with him even at his parents' funeral.

The only thing keeping you happy is casting. Jungkook asked you to make a list of all the actors that would suit his characters after giving you a vague description of their traits. The budget isn't an issue, and you're having so much fun. He makes you forget your worries without even trying.

Jungkook intimidates you, but he's so lovely.

A mere "aspiring" stylist is casting actors for a movie. How many people can brag about that? You almost stumble on the stairs as you quickly climb up with Jungkook's laptop in your hands. He gave it to you for research purposes as he drew a rough storyboard with Irene.

"I made a list," you exclaim brightly. Heads shoot in your direction and you sheepishly grin at your volume. Jungkook's eyes linger on your covered neck; it's almost like a collar.

He whistles and beckons you to sit next to him. You obey and anxiously present your list to the professionals; you have no idea how to go on about this task, and no one guided you. You're certain you look utterly amateur in front of them.

Irene is inspecting your list without hinting her thoughts as Jungkook asks, "who are your favorites?"

"Well, I think Kim Namjoon is um, suitable for the male lead's role and Joy-"

"It's decided then," he claps his hands twice without hearing out Irene who scowls at him.

"You're not cooperating with us," she voices in a complaint, "why are you always calling the shots on your own? These are major decisions-"

"Ms. Bae, don't take any offence now. I'm taking your opinions into accounts when I make these decisions. Unless you have an issue with something, let's not dwell on this, hm?"

She sighs as you stand there awkwardly. She's upset, but stays silent.

"The two leads are Kim Namjoon and Park Soo-young. The team will decide the rest of the cast, thank you," he informs you with a ghost of a smile.

"Of course," you breathe.

You don't know how long it is supposed to take to shoot a film, but surely it's not this fast paced. Jungkook is relentless with his production; there are hardly any breaks in between takes. There are bags under his eyes from pulling all nighters to work on his scripts.

He is a perfectionist and a hard worker, as you've come to find out. You feel bad for the amount of times the actors recited their lines when they didn't capture a scene right in Jungkook's eyes. It was an honor for you to meet these famous people beyond a screen, and you were strictly ordered to do Joy's makeup only. You are her stylist, but the professional one does help you after she's finished with Namjoon's.

"Cut," Jungkook says into the speaker. You're located in a rented mansion outside of the city, but you can't enjoy it when everyone is so stressed. "Start over from line "he's leeching off of you"."

Even actors can't hide their annoyance from having to do a 25th take of one scene. Jungkook pays them enough to go on with this torture however, so they have no room to complain.

They start over and you force yourself to watch them again and again.

"Oh my god, cut!" You can hardly resist groaning yourself. Everyone on set is overworked, and you know the director has it the worst, but it's overwhelming you too at this point. You flinch when your name is called. "Act Joy's lines, will you?"

"Me?" you point at yourself in surprise.

"Go ahead," he urges with a nod.

You have no idea how to act, and it's nervewracking having to do it in front of A-listers. You pick up the script handed to you from another woman and start reading:

"He's not leeching off of me," you pause to inhale shakily; your hands tremble from the heavy stares on you.

"I'm his family, the only one he has left. No one would know if he was gone, and he trusts me to look after him without having to dangle a dollar bill over his head."

This goes on until the final scene, and the retakes cut down to half.

A few months pass, and it is time for the premiere. The movie, simply titled Pretty Girl, easily got a green light for display in theatres, and it's been heavily promoted on YouTube and TV. You are excited to your core, and watching the celebrities walk the red carpet was a first for you. Jungkook easily blends in with the crowd as he once again didn't reveal his real name in the credits, but his pen name is gaining more and more recognition. You have never seen the movie throughout the editing procedure, but you can't wait to see everyone's efforts show on the big screen.

You're dressed fancily because Jungkook asked you to go with him, and the two of you are sitting in the crowded theatre with not a single empty seat to be seen. Even the entrance is decorated in retro style to fit in with the movie's theme! The jazz music playing in the halls reaches your ears, and your knees are bouncing in anticipation of the movie. Jungkook is smiling as he listens to you ramble.

"I can't believe I played a part in this whole project!" you gush with shaking fists. "I met the best director I know, and I worked for him! This all feels like a dream... No one even likes my style, and yet I became a stylist!"

"I love your style," he denies, "even now you have all the attention in the room."

"Pfft," you roll your eyes playfully, "they all think I must look weird. I tried to wear something classy so I don't stand out, but it hasn't been working out."

"Keep it that way, you're beautiful like this."

Heat creeps up to your cheeks at his compliment and you squeak, "thank you."

He doesn't get to relish your flustered state as everyone goes quiet once the movie starts.

The time period is unclear, as the language is modern but the filter is black and white. The first scene is in a bar, a man in a suit eyeing a woman with a date who is an outcast with his clothes. They're washed out and ugly, but he looks handsome with his dazzling smile at the woman.

An involuntary grin spreads across your face when you hear their dialogue.

"I want to touch someone's shoulder to see how they react. Did you see how they looked at me when I walked in here? I think they think I'm your sugar baby or something," Jimin's character jokes with a laugh.

"I know! They're all so boujee, but I'm willing to be your mommy without sugar," Joy winks. They have fun until Jimin leaves to the bathroom and Namjoon's character approaches her, who has been staring at her ever since they walked in. Joy is offered a modeling career, and she accepts after she's told that her fashion only works with her because of how beautiful she is. She's bashful when Namjoon gives her a business card.

Jungkook's film is only over an hour long, but everything is timed so perfectly. His directory is straightforward, and you admire his work until a song comes on.

"That's my favorite song!" you whisper into his ear. It's Space Song by Beach House.

"Mine too," he whispers back.

There are montages of photo shoots, Joy's rise to fame in the modeling industry, but the trouble is Jimin, her boyfriend. Namjoon confronts him one day when Jimin drops her off to her new workplace.

"How can someone so poor be able to court a woman like her?" he asks rhetorically.

"Excuse me, Sir?" Jimin is offended until Namjoon laughs it off and reveals it was a joke. The audience sighs in relief, and all is fun and games until Jimin is brutally murdered next to a dumpster. You gasp at the gore scene and glance at Jungkook, until something dawns on you.

The story is starting to sound familiar. Was this movie inspired by your encounters? Your eyes light up as you give your utmost attention to the movie. The line between reality and fiction is beginning to blur.

Joy goes to Namjoon's house, where the dialogue you first reenacted comes to play. The shots are gorgeous, the script filled with metaphors on poverty and currency, and the romance is sickly sweet. There is a sex scene not long after... Joy forgets all about her boyfriend in the snap of Namjoon's fingers.

You tilt your head when you remember Taehyung. Where is he? How come your boyfriend didn't even show up to this life-changing experience?

Jungkook's hand slides over your thigh out of nowhere, as he murmurs, "do you mind?"

You stammer when his fingers reach under your dress to poke at your panties. "S-Sorry?"

"I said," he grazes your folds as you tense at the feather light touch, "do you mind if I touch you, pretty girl?"

Your chest heaves as your lashes flutter in a daze, but you nod nonetheless. His low raspy voice already has you clenching your thighs, unintentionally trapping his hand against your pussy. He's gentle, almost curious with the way he runs his fingers over your silky underwear before he moves it to the side. You're shivering with delight and thrill, and you don't take your eyes off of each other as he begins to flick your clit carelessly.

"Looks so pretty on you," he compliments the makeshift choker on your neck. It's his handkerchief you wore for the occasion, unaware that it's dried with cum. He pulls on the knot like it's a collar, and you're entranced. Your pants fan his lips at the close proximity, and he doesn't shy away from slotting his mouth against yours. You quietly moan into the kiss when his thumb starts to rub your clit, and his long finger pokes at your entrance.

"You mind?" he murmurs against your lips, his words slightly slurred as he doesn't stop kissing you. The wet noises are drowned out by the loud volume of the movie, but you can't focus on what's going on.

"I don't," you breathe before he slips in two fingers, exploring your walls with precision. He's multitasking as he circles your sensitive clit, and you're not very experienced in regards to sexual encounters but your hand lands on his hard-on anyway.

"Don't be shy," he chuckles into your neck, "touch it."

You don't know what you're doing when you slip your hand under his pants and palm him over his briefs, but his sigh is encouraging you. You're touching each other in a room of 100 people.

It's embarrassing when his free hand joins yours to help you touch him while simultaneously fingering you. He must have sensed your lack of confidence, because he starts to stroke his erection over your hand. You start to imagine his fingers as the real thing, and with your particularly low stamina, have a hard time suppressing your whines.

"Kiss my neck," he suggests as a solution to your nibbling. You didn't even realize your nether lip is bleeding from how hard you were biting on it. You bury your head in his shoulder and start pecking his neck. He holds back a laugh at how shy you're being, and he feels proud for predicting this moment perfectly in the movie. Joy is having the time of her life with Namjoon, unaware of Jimin decaying in the attic.

He quickens his pace in your cunt, and you bite him rather harshly at the sensation. He hisses with a chuckle; he likes it when you're impulsive. He can pick up the squelches from his thrusts because of how wet you are, and you climax all over his fingers in a matter of seconds with a whimper. You're twitching in your seat, and your hand strokes him faster but he stops you.

"In my studio," he says and you nod tiredly against his shoulder. The issue isn't that he doesn't want to cum in his pants, but the movie needs to become reality. He wants to fuck you on that one stool, with Taehyung's corpse decomposing in the backroom.

Jungkook always adds a pinch of fiction to his stories, but they're mostly based on true events. If you paid attention to the ending, maybe you would've realized that.

Lying is bad, but there are worse things in life.

[carewyncromwell]

“Bang, bang! Bang, bang! Bang, bang! Let's fire the weapon! Bang, bang! Bang, bang! Bang, bang! Won't stop till we're legend! Won't stop till we're legend!  Here we go, here we go --  It's my turn to make history! Here we go, here we go -- When I'm gone, they'll remember me...yeah!”

~“Legend” by the Score

x~x~x~x

Evening, everybody! This is my half of an art trade I’m doing with my friend @samshogwarts​, featuring our two respective “Jacobs” -- Jacob “Jack” Roberts and Jacob Cromwell! (Yes, these two are both smoking hot. And also arrogant, nerdy, bisexual, long-haired trash boys and I love them both to pieces. ❤️💙) Sam-mun and I talked it over, and we came to the conclusion that arrogant, manipulative Gryffindor Jack and arrogant magical prodigy Ravenclaw Jacob would definitely be the sorts to get very competitive with each other, since they both rightly think very highly of their own abilities and love being thoroughly challenged. I also reckon that these two nerds -- one a lover of the Lord of the Rings and the other of Star Trek -- would constantly sass each other’s faces off whenever they end up on the dueling field together. 

But yes. Both of these guys end up fighting at the Battle of Hogwarts, so I decided to do this as a companion piece to this artwork I already did of Jacob Cromwell at the Battle fighting with his two wands...and show these two actually putting down their more usual rivalry in order to kick some Death Eater arse together. 

“Seriously, Cromwell? You need two wands just to take out these losers?”

“Efficiency is key, mate. Trust me, I could still take this lot out with one wand behind my back.”

“Heh! Go for it, Halfling.”

“Up your shaft, Roberts.” 

Why yes, I’m ignoring that Jack ends up dying in the Battle of Hogwarts. Let me enjoy some good old-fashioned playful rivalry without dwelling on the angst potential for a little while. 💔

Jack’s robes are based somewhat on this vaguely Gothic duster design, while Jacob’s are based on this much more casual look. Both men are also wearing earrings -- Jacob is also wearing the Gordian Knot ring that he got as a gift from his boy best friend Ashe at school and bell bottoms because he never really completely left the 70′s. And although I included an awesome song by the Score as the theme for this...the two songs I actually listened to most while sketching/editing this were Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” and (more hilariously) Cascada’s “Bad Boy.” 🤣

Hope you like it, mein Leibling! And everyone else, too! Please consider liking/reblogging/commenting if this made you smile! ✨

[nbrook29]

Kiss or Slap

Sander doesn’t remember when exactly their group made the riverside near the Scheldt their new hangout spot, but he couldn’t be more grateful for it as a cold breeze washes over his overheated body, providing a momentary relief against the scorching heat falling from the sky. It’s probably why the park is fuller than it usually is on Thursday afternoons, packed with people spread on their picnic blankets, searching for a bit of shadow under the big trees and desperately craving a bit of wind. 

It’s so hot he doesn’t even feel like sketching, preferring to just lie on the grass without moving a single muscle, and dying in peace. Even the enticing smell of cinnamon rolls that Noor brought with her isn’t enough for him to reach out and take one from the basket, the action requiring too much movement on his part.

“Guys, come on, we have to start or we’ll never get it done! Sander, get your lazy ass up.” He grunts when he feels Leon’s merciless fingers jabbing him in the ribs.

“Can’t we wait until it gets a little less hot?”

“No, cause that’s not happening in the nearest future and we need new content,” Nathan butts in, followed by Noor, which makes Sander officially outvoted. So he heaves a deep sigh, puts his shirt back on and ruffles his hair to make himself more presentable, rolling his eyes at Noor’s appreciative whistling.

“Someone’s gonna snatch himself a bunch of kisses today with that smoldering look,” she teases, pretending to give him a once over.

“Is that your way of telling me you want one for yourself, sweetheart?” He’s immensely proud of himself when her entire face scrunches up in disgust.

“Eww, no, feels like incest at this point.” Which is kinda true given the fact they’ve known each other since kindergarten and became best friends making sand castles. He fires an obnoxious wink at her, fully anticipating a shove which comes as expected within seconds, with Noor calling him a creep in between laughter.

“Who should we start with? Senne? Wanna go first?” Sander watches as Leon takes out his camera equipment and checks the settings as the rest collects their things.

“I guess, yeah. And then Nathan after me?”

“I’m not doing it, man, you know Britt, she’s gonna flip out.”

“Be a good reason to break up with her,” Sander mutters under his breath, not really feeling apologetic when Nathan shoots him a glare. It would be a long time coming, and honestly, Sander can’t wait for that moment to come. Just being in her presence gives him chills, she’s that much of a horrible person. A few years ago, he read something about alternate universes and sometimes when he looks at her he can’t help but think there’s a history there with the two of them, in a past life or something. At least it would explain that weird energy between them.

If it’s true, he feels very sorry for that Sander. 

He roots for him to run far away from said devil’s spawn.

“I can go next, I don’t have the ball and chain,” Noor says innocently, but she’s smirking over Nathan’s shoulder at Sander who pretends to high five her in their shared hatred for Britt.

“Yeah, us lonely birds will sacrifice ourselves and take the hit for the wellbeing of our channel,” Sander laments playfully, making Senne snort.

“Dude, you’re on your own by your own choice.”

“And pickiness. Don’t forget pickiness,” Noor adds smugly.

Sander huffs in protest. “I’m not picky! I just...” He cuts off because he’s not about to just explain it all now.

“Just what?”

“Specific about what I want.”

Brown curls, brown eyes, shortish, lean, pierced ear, cute giggle, elegant hands and a smile brighter than the sun. 

To be exact.

“Yeah. That’s picky.”

“Whatever,” he replies grumpily, and decides to ignore Noor’s knowing look. Sometimes he feels like she has a sixth sense and can read him like a book. Or she’s just less oblivious than the boys in their friend group. That’s a totally possible option too.

Thankfully, she doesn’t push him further (she’s awesome like that), though Sander has a feeling she’s gonna grill him later when they’re alone. For now, she checks her lipstick in her phone as they all briefly plan the video.

Not like there’s that much to plan; a few days ago, they decided to shoot a kiss or slap challenge for their YouTube channel because it had been wildly requested by their viewers.

Sander still doesn’t quite know how he became a part of a YouTube channel in the first place, always considering himself to be a bit more, well, sophisticated than that? But Leon was into it from the beginning and made them all participate in exchange for free beer, until one day one of their videos blew up.

If you can call getting 100k views on one video blowing up. 

Anyway, they got semi-popular amongst Flemish teens and even managed to snatch a sponsorship with Mentos (however small the offer was) that paid actual money. And he had just managed to move out of his family house so any money coming his way he welcomed with no questions asked. 

So they’ve kept shooting silly challenges slash anything else that’s a trend at a given time and have been able to cover their art supply needs with what little they earned. And, though Sander refused to admit it in the beginning, it’s actually kinda fun. It’s definitely better than his part time job at Pull&Bear where he has to deal with obnoxious customers on an almost daily basis.

They record a short introduction near the river, quickly going over the rules and explaining that the three of them will be competing in who gets more kisses versus slaps. 

“Hey, you know what, this is actually unfair cause you both can kiss anybody,” Senne points out all of a sudden, receiving four pairs of unimpressed glances.

“No one’s stopping you from getting kisses from boys too, dude,” Sander is quick to shut him up, shit-eating grin on his face as he gives him his first (light) slap to the cheek. 

They follow Senne around the park with a camera as he turns on his charm and smiles sweetly at the girls he chooses for the challenge, doing surprisingly well on the first few attempts. But when they venture deeper into the park and he tries his luck with college girls, he gets 5 slaps in the row to the rest of the group’s utter delight. In the end, his results are a blow to his pride and even Sander feels sorry for him, giving him a pat on the back while trying to hold his laughter in at Senne’s grumpy face.

Noor does much better, naturally, as her upbeat personality and a wide smile have always made boys and girls turn their heads. She gets a kiss after kiss, blush after blush, and two phone numbers in the process. Senne argues again that it’s unfair because no one’s gonna slap a girl anyway, but Leon just calls him a sore loser while Noor shamelessly flirts in French with another girl right in front of the camera.

Sander’s very proud.

Taking a quick sip of water, he gives Leon a thumbs up and starts his round, coming over to three blond girls chilling near the skateboarding ramps, trying very hard not to come off as creepy and clarifying the kiss part being only a cheek kiss. The girls erupt in giggles, but they all grant him a light kiss. One of them tries to flirt with him after, but he shoots her down before she can get too into it.

“Such a heartbreaker, you,” Noor coos at Sander’s pained face when they all walk away.

“That’s you, and you actually enjoy it,” he quips back, sticking his tongue at her.

“I do not, shut up!”

Fifteen minutes and fourteen kisses later he’s officially in the lead, sealing his victory with a kiss number fifteen he receives from a cute redhead. He’s gloating in Senne’s bemused face about nobody choosing to slap him when he stops in his tracks.

It’s the proof of his hopeless infatuation that he’d recognize that laugh everywhere.

He looks around for its source, but he comes up short. Then, his eyes focus on the skatepark area and his heart starts beating faster.

Because it feels like a sign. Like the universe is giving him a chance to finally do something. Make a move.

“Hey, can we shoot one more try?” He asks the guys, trying to sound casual while glancing furtively in the direction of brown curls.

“You’ve already won, but I guess?”

Nobody questions him about his reasons, they just follow him to the ramp.

And he’s so fucking nervous. 

It’s incredible, really, how he generally has no problems talking to people he’s interested in, conversation flowing without him even trying, gaining easy smiles and appreciative looks wherever he goes, some natural confidence to him. 

But that boy. That boy is something else.

He makes him question everything he says, makes his palms sweat and makes his deep hidden shyness come onto the surface.

Sander saw him for the first time during Open Day at the Academie in may, strolling casually through the hallway with his friend, completely oblivious to the turmoil he was causing to Sander’s heart.

That was the day Sander saw an angel. 

Fate placed him on his path again sooner than he could’ve hoped, the boy participating in a 2 week film course at his school only several days after he saw him for the first time. And he tried so hard to convince himself to talk to him over that time, but he only managed a few smiles while passing him by in the hallway. 

That and that one stupid joke he said to him while they were waiting in line at the cafeteria that makes him cringe in despair just thinking about it. Seriously, it’s like his entire cool evaporates when he’s near him.

But, the boy laughed at it. So maybe it wasn’t as horrible as Sander is making it to be. Or he was just being nice. 

Robbe. 

Robbe, who he’s been crushing on ever since that fateful day in may.

Robbe, who was at the same party he was last weekend.

Robbe, who he talked to at that party and managed to calm his nerves enough to be charming and funny.

Robbe, who giggled, blushed and bit his lip at Sander’s dumb jokes that evening.

Robbe, who slipped through his fingers because Sander blacked out soon after.

He almost never drinks, but that one night he did, celebrating the beginning of summer break, and not realizing his usual abstinence meant he was now officially a lightweight. What an awful timing.

Robbe doesn’t notice him right away, having his back turned to him while talking animatedly to his friends. Taking a deep breath and plastering a smile to his face to hide his nervousness, he approaches them.

“Hey guys, got a second?”

He notices the recognition in Robbe’s face right away, and Sander shoots him a quiet “hi” when his eyes meet his, an unsure smile blooming on his face.

“Hey, what’s up?” One of the boys nods at the camera.

“I’m Sander, and we’re shooting a video for our YouTube channel, the kiss or slap challenge,” he quickly explains, the boys’ faces lighting up.

“Hey, we have a channel too! I’m Moyo, this is Jens, Aaron, and Robbe.” Moyo reaches out to bump his fist with him and damn, Sander has to find that channel if Robbe is a part of it.

Jens levels him with a look. “So, you want us to kiss you or slap you?” 

“Pretty much, yeah?” Sander chuckles because he’s aware it’s ridiculous, but he’s a man on a mission here, give him a break.

“I think Robbe should represent all of us, don’t you think so?” Moyo proposes, tongue in his cheek as he checks with the rest of his friends. Sander catches the death glare Robbe sends the boy before looking back at him and crossing his arms, looking a bit out of place. And, fuck, the last thing Sander wants is to make him uncomfortable.

So he asks softly, “you’re in?” and waits for agonizing five seconds as Robbe watches him, eyes narrowed, before his features smooth out and he smiles at him.

“Sure, why not.”

Relieved, Sander lets out a chuckle and tries to keep his cool. “Okay then - kiss or slap?”

Robbe squints against the sun and makes him wait another few seconds before he answers, but Sander’s not worried because there’s a soft smile on his face and obviously his angel wouldn’t-

“Slap.”

Wait, what.

He can hear his friends bursting in laughter at this unexpected turn of events while Sander can only stare in shock because how could he miscalculate the situation this much?

Gulping, confused and heartbroken, he asks, “you’re sure?”, to which Robbe nods with a poorly hidden glee.

“But you have to close your eyes cause I can’t hit you while you're looking at me.”

Heaving a deep sigh and trying to save a face despite the humiliation flooding his body, he nods and closes his eyes, steeling himself for it.

But it never comes.

Suddenly, he feels a hand cupping his cheek and he flinches a little, but then soft lips touch his in a kiss so gentle he blinks his eyes open, not knowing what’s happening.

“That was payback for you promising to call me and not keeping your word,” Robbe whispers against his lips before leaning away, something sad and wistful passing through his face. Sander is left completely dumbfounded, ignoring the hollering from the two groups as his eyes fleet all over Robbe’s face.

It’s difficult for him to collect his thoughts because holy fuck, Robbe has just kissed him and he’s internally freaking out. He finally manages to get his bearings when the remnants of a smile slip off Robbe’s lips.

“I-, Robbe, you have no idea how much I wanted to call you, but I don’t have your number.”

“I gave it to you. At the party?” He doesn’t look like he believes a word Sander is saying.

“Um, I kinda blacked out and don’t remember much after like one-ish?”

“You saved it though, I saw you typing it in,” Robbe argues again, but this time he doesn’t look so sure. “Wait, what’s your number?”

Sander watches him entering digit after digit before hitting call. He fully expects a plain number to appear on his screen, eyes widening when he sees what pops up instead.

zk bambieys 🥺🦌👁️💘🧡💖💞 calling

“Fuck, you did give me your number.” He’s not fast enough to hide his screen from Robbe, but he can't even feel embarrassment once he notices the frown disappeared from his face.

“Bambi eyes?” There's a teasing note in his voice, but his pink cheeks sell him out.

Sander scratches his head. "I was very drunk, you can't hold it against me. Also, your eyes are really beautiful," he clarifies, winking when Robbe laughs at his shameless flirting. "Hey, I tried to find you on instagram, but nothing came up. I was really hoping we're gonna bump into each other again. Sorry for being a dumbass and not realizing I had your number this entire time?”

“It’s okay.” Robbe shoves his hand into the pockets of his jeans, swaying on his heels. Sander decides to put them both out of their misery and take the initiative.

“So if I asked you out, would you say yes?”

It looks like Robbe’s about to nod, but then he bites his lip, an almost cheeky smile directed at him. “I guess you have to call me to find out.” And then he gets on his skateboard and casually skates away to the nearest ramp, pulling a surprised laugh out of Sander.

If he was intrigued before, now he’s totally smitten with this wonder of a boy, because damn. 

Their friends finally seem to regain their voices and speak over each other at what just happened, but Sander doesn’t pay them any attention, just takes out his phone again and pressing the call button. 

Watching as Robbe comes to a full stop at the top of the ramp, he cocks his head with a grin and waits until he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Sander.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Robbe laughs into the speaker.

“Will you go out with me?”

He meets his eyes across the skatepark as Robbe makes him wait again.

Then, with a smile so radiant it overshadows the sun, the boy finally gives him his answer.

“Yes.”

[memphisfaith]

Hearts of Lust: Chapter 7

Pairing Kim Namjoon X Reader

Genre: Collage!AU, Smut

Word Count: 1.K

Warning: Cursing, mentions of smut, smut, consumption of alcohol, mentions of violence, violence, crack personality disorders, Chaotic energy.

Summary: College is any young adult's prime years, at least that's what Lee (y/n) and Kim Namjoon thought. The two are infamous for two reasons, by two very different crowds. Among the professors they are picture perfect students with perfect scores, attendance, and image. However, among the student body they're the very essence of lust with amazing bodies, sex appeal, and skill. The two, although strikingly similar, butt heads quite a bit with competitions of everything from grades to who can get a person to drop their pants the fastest. With the two of them ready to conquer the school year it's all a matter of Go Big or Go Home.

I glance over the group of guys beside me, the group of them doing different things in their own little sub groups. Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook are buzzing around making random spazzy gestures as they run in circles. Jin, Yoongi, and Taehyung sit at a table working on an assignment for their class. While Namjoon and I read the first book assigned by our lit. Professor.

I sigh, placing my book down and rubbing my eyes. The constant yelling and laughter coming from the three wild boys made it hard to focus on my book. I finally gave it a rest and marked my page before closing the book. 

Instead I took out my loose paper notes from my earlier class and copied them down in my notebook in a neater fashion. I pull out my colored fine tip pens and markers, notebook, and the papers.

I then muted the yelling boys out and began to copy down the notes, memorizing them as I wrote. A quarter through my notes, I glanced at the clock. We only had an hour of study hall between the 2nd and 3rd lectures, and from what I can tell I only had a few minutes to pack up before we had to go. I decide to go ahead and start.

I packed my stuff quicker than I thought I would have, so with the few spare minutes I have to spare I sit watching kookie and Tae playfight. However things started to get a little too rough. A collective sigh left Namjoon and I, unconsciously my hand reaches out in a fist, A muscle reflex I gained when things like this happened. A group agreement that if two or more can't agree on something or if we cant decide who is to do something we play rock, paper, scissors. Loser loses the argument or does the task.

With three shakes I pop my hand out revealing paper, I glance over at Namjoon's hand. He holds out scissors. Despite the fact he still has his head stuck in that book reading the pages, I can still see that smug smirk tucked behind the cover and pages.

I groan as I drop my bag and stand from my chair. I walk over to the two and wedge myself between the two. I cross my arms and glare sharply at the two. "Stop it, If you want to fight, wait until you go to your martial arts club." I scold. 

The two bowed their heads with a collective, "Yes Noona.". I nod my head in approval before walking back over to my seat. I sat in my seat but it wasn't long before the hourly bell rang. Namjoon and I walked to our lecture while the rest of them broke off to go to their other lectures. I sat in my seat beside the foul demon as class started.

I wipe my stray hairs out of my face with my wrist holding the paintbrush in my hand. Glancing down at my sketch book where I glued and taped in my different references. The hue of one of the vases is a little darker than what I'd had mixed on my palate. 

I walked back over to the paint station and began to mix that darker color. "(y/n)!" I hear Withrow call, "Yeah!" I call back. "I need you for a minute." she calls again, I put my palate down and grab a hand towel on the way out. 

I wipe paint off as I make my way over to her, but my eyes widen at the crowd with her, "What's all this?" I gap looking over the crowd. "Well the fund raiser for the club went better than expected." She huffs. "The one for studio time?" I ask and she nods, "And the one that includes the art lessons." She adds.

My eyes widen, "It's a joint event?" I ask in a slight panic. She nods her head, I set out an aggravated scoff "I'll have to talk to the admin and secretary about this." I mumble. "It's okay I'm sure you and I can handle this," I assure.

I run back over to my work station and grab my apron, I put it on as I hurriedly rush back to the main classroom. "Hello everyone, welcome to the open studio and class. Mrs. Withrow is passing out a folder full of art styles we can offer to teach you today for those who want to learn. Everyone else  is welcome to do as they please because this is an open studio. All we ask is that you behave maturely, don't disturb those around you, and keep your area as clean as possible." I smile. 

I hear sounds of agreement before letting the large group find their seat. "NOONA!!" I hear a familiar yell, My eyes widen as I see Kookie and Tae waving at me. "What are you two doing here?!? Don't you have dance practice with Hoseok?" I whisper quietly. 

The two grin at me childishly, "Don't tell Hyung we skipped. We heard your fundraising and we both could resist coming to see you." Taehyung spoke up. I sigh and rub my hand over my face "Fine, hurry up and sit down. Don't cause too much trouble you two." I warn as they hurry off to grab a seat beside each other.

I go back to getting everyone settled. Without much thought I wonder the room helping the occasional person, flirting here and there as well. Open studio was half way over when the door was busted open to reveal a pissed off Hoseok.

"THERE YOU TWO ARE!" He screams, My eyes widen as he marches his way over to the two boys. Oh hell no, he doesn't get to come in here like that. I quickly place myself between the three of them and glare at Hoseok. 

"Who the hell do you think you are coming in here like that. Can't you see they're working. you don't get to just come in here like that and snatch them up. So you best walk out that door and try again or so help me Jung Hoseok." I sneer. 

Hoseok stiffens up before bowing his head "Yes ma'am." He whispers before walking back to the door and closing it, only to knock and wait for a response. "That's what I thought." I mutter as I let him in.

<---- Prev // Masterlist // Next ---->

[mintaka14]

This is chapter 2 of my Dash & Lily inspired ML AU.

For the Lady’s Favour

A Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction

By Mintaka14

 Chapter Two – Complicated Plans

 “Delivery order,” Luka’s boss said laconically, and pushed a takeaway cup and a slip of paper across the counter towards Luka.

Delivery orders weren’t uncommon, but the address on the slip was, and Luka’s eyebrow climbed as he read it. His boss just shrugged.

“The customer paid extra for this one, so you’d better get going.”

At least it was a nice day to be making a delivery to the Trocadéro, and Luka headed out into the streets towards the gardens.

There were plenty of people clustered around the first bench from the northern entrance of the park, and the second, but there was only one at the third bench. He could see pigtails, and a girl bent over the sketchbook in her lap. As he got closer, he caught a glimpse of an assortment of clothing, notes and scribbles and odd sketches around the edges.

“Delivery for the lady at the third bench?” he called out, and his attention was caught by the figure she seemed to be working on. Was that… Jagged Stone? This girl had good taste in music, clearly, and the coat she’d sketched on him looked amazing.

“Hey, that’s really –“ The girl looked up, and Luka completely lost his train of thought as he found himself staring into endlessly blue eyes. Holy shit.

“Is that my coffee?” she asked with a tentative smile, and Luka jerked back to attention. He looked down at the chocolate and fluff with extra everything and all the froufrou his boss had been able to jam into one cup.

“Not exactly.”

The girl’s eyes fell on the cup in his hands, and she let out a soft breath.

“I guess he has a sweet tooth,” she said, and he handed her the cup, trying not to react to the brush of her fingers.

“You didn’t see who placed the order?” she asked a little wistfully. “It- it wasn’t you, was it?”

“Me?” Luka was still reeling under the impact of those blue, blue eyes. “Right now, I wish it had been.”

He nodded at the cup of chocolate and marshmallow fluff in her hands. “Although I’m more of a coffee guy.”

She lit up in a smile, and any semblance of rational thought that Luka had left was gone. Damn, she was just too gorgeous.

“Me too, to be honest. I wouldn’t get half the things I need to do done without a regular caffeine hit. Are you a night owl too?”

“Too often, yeah. It kind of comes with the territory.”

She raised an eyebrow at that, and he found himself talking more.

“I play in a couple of bands, and I’d keep falling asleep over my guitar in the middle of a gig without coffee to keep me going.”

“You’re a musician?”

He grinned and ducked his head in acknowledgement. “What about you? What keeps you up at night?”

It was only after he’d said it that he realised how that could have sounded, but the girl didn’t seem to notice.

“Design and sewing.” She let out a faint huff. “The middle of the night always seems to be about the only time I can focus on my projects without something interrupting me, so… coffee.” She pulled a face at the mountain of fluffy chocolate in her hand, and then seemed to realise that they were still standing in the middle of the park. She backed up a reluctant step. “I should – I should stop holding you up. You probably need to get back to work, and here I’m – Sorry. Thanks for bringing me the hot chocolate.”

“You can hold me up any time,” he sighed, but only when she was out of hearing. He turned and headed back towards the coffee shop, but he came to an abrupt stop at the sound of running footsteps and the touch of a hand on his arm.

“Sorry, sorry!” the girl gasped. She held out a raspberry red macaron wrapped in cellophane and ribbon. It was a work of art. “I nearly forgot. Could you give this to the person who ordered the hot chocolate for me?”

“It looks like a ladybug,” he said stupidly, and she blushed again. “No, it’s cute. Lucky.”

“I could use a bit of luck,” she muttered, then she met his eyes and her smile grew brighter. “It was really nice to meet you, Luka. Thanks for my sugar rush.”

Luka’s malfunctioning brain caught on that. “You know my name?”

And the girl’s face flamed into embarrassment. “I don’t… you… the thing…” She gave up and nodded at his chest, and the name tag that was still there.

Ah. Of course.

“I’m Ma-ma-marinette,” she offered, tripping over her own name.

“Pretty name. It suits you.” Judging from the way her cheeks burned even brighter, his tone had been a little more heartfelt than he’d intended, and, reluctantly, he backed up a step. “Guess I’d better get back before my boss notices I’m missing and decides to fire me.”

The smile she gave him almost knocked him on his ass, and he turned away before he could make even more of an idiot of himself. There was something niggling at the back of his mind, though.

Luka stopped and turned back.

“Marinette,” he said. “Wait, do you know Juleka Couffaine?”

“We were in the same class for a few years,” Marinette admitted. “We hang out sometimes.”

“You’re Marinette! I heard all about you from Jules after that thing with the school photo.” He could have kissed her for what she’d done for his baby sister’s self-confidence, and if half the things he’d heard from Juleka were true, this girl was every bit as incredible as he’d just been imagining. He realised he was beaming at her like a fool, and tried to dial it back a bit.

“Nothing too bad, I hope,” she said, sounding a little alarmed, and he felt his smile soften.

“Nothing bad at all.”

When he finally got back to the coffee shop, Luka had barely had time to slide behind the counter and sling an apron around his waist again before the door swung open with an enthusiastic peal of the bell. He looked up to find Adrien Agreste heading towards the counter with an expression of barely concealed nervous anticipation on his famous features.

Luka gave him an easy smile, but before he could ask what the model wanted, Adrien had blurted out, “Did she like it? Did… were you the one who delivered the hot chocolate for me? Was she there?”

So Marinette’s mystery hot chocolate was Paris’ beloved poster boy.

Luka silently handed him the macaron that Marinette had asked him to deliver, and watched the model’s face light up like Christmas had come early.

~~~~~

Marinette was not surprised when Alya burst into her bedroom without so much as a greeting.

“So?” Alya said impatiently. “How did it go?”

“He sent me hot chocolate. I think I’m still in sugar shock, Alya, but the boy who delivered it was so funny and sweet about it –“

“Never mind the delivery guy,” Alya cut her off. “Your mystery guy came through! You had your first date with him… feel free to tell me I’m a genius any time now. This is a good start. The whole idea is for you to get to know each other before you meet, so you need to write to him and get him to do something to show he’s serious here.”

“Like what?”

Alya shrugged. “You’re the one with the plans. You just have to come up with something you can get him to do that doesn’t involve you meeting face to face, something he can do to win your favour.”

“Yes, but it’s not like I can ask him to fight a duel for my honour or something…” Marinette trailed off. “Fight,” she repeated thoughtfully.

“I know that look,” Alya nudged her shoulder. “That’s a plan happening, isn’t it?”

Marinette grabbed a sheet of notepaper from her desk, and her favourite pen.

“Ultimate Mecha Strike,” she announced.

“What?”

“An online challenge. It’s perfect. We don’t have to meet in person, but we can play each other online and find out a bit more about each other.”

Alya was looking as if she wasn’t sure if it was a bad idea or brilliant.

“What if he doesn’t play UMS?”

“Then I can teach him.”

“And what if he doesn’t like getting whomped?” Alya asked sceptically. She was very familiar with Marinette’s playing style, and Marinette made a face, still concentrating on the note she was writing.

“Then it’s better to find out now that he’s a sore loser, before I get too attached.”

Marinette read over the note, and folded it, presenting it to Alya with a flourish. Alya grinned, and tucked it into her bag.

“Right,” she said, getting to her feet. “Let’s see if he’ll fight for your hand. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Once Alya had clattered down the steps again, Marinette buried her face in her pillow and screamed quietly. This was a bad, bad idea.

~~~~~

Luka was wiping down the counter when the bell chimed over the door, and he paused as Alya came in. It wasn’t unusual to see her in the café, but it was unusual to see her there without Nino or their friends. He watched curiously as she sidled almost furtively towards the noticeboard and tacked something up between the band posters and lost and found notices.

“What are you up to?” Luka asked, and Alya leaped, her hand going to her chest as she spun around.

“Jeez! You startled me.”

Luka tipped his head at the envelope she’d just pinned up. “I saw you the other day, when you put that letter on the board, and now this one. What’s that all about?”

“Aren’t we allowed to use the public noticeboard?” Alya asked, her hands going to her hips and a defensive note in her voice.

“And that hot chocolate delivery the other day?”

Alya huffed in response, but Luka just kept watching her with a look of mild interest, until she said, “It’s just like this game. Sort of. Like a blind date, without actually knowing who you’re dating.”

Luka’s eyebrow climbed.

“Look, we have these friends who’d be perfect for each other, but she can’t talk to him, and he’s completely clueless, so we’re trying to set them up.”

“Right,” Luka said slowly. “Does Marinette know about this?”

“Well, she doesn’t know who it is,” Alya muttered. “But she’s had this huge crush on Adrien for ages. We’re just getting them to set each other challenges, doing stuff like that coffee delivery, or… I don’t know, looking for a painting at the Louvre, something like that. Like dates, where they don’t actually meet.” Alya gave a sudden grin. “It’s going to be so hilarious when they finally work out who they’re writing to.”

“Is this some kind of practical joke?” he asked flatly, his heart sinking a little for Marinette’s sake, but Alya’s angry reaction was somewhat reassuring.

“Like I’d do that to my girl!” she said indignantly. “This is just… a creative way to help her get past some stuff. You met Marinette, so you know how she trips all over herself and stutters?”

She’d certainly stumbled over their names when she’d gotten flustered, but Marinette had been perfectly coherent through most of their conversation. Alya must have taken Luka’s expression as agreement, though, because she barrelled on.

“Well, imagine that, but like a million times worse. Girl just cannot string a sentence together around a guy she likes. And Adrien, well, he’s great with knowing what to say to his fans, and being polite to other models and his father’s business contacts, but not so good with,” Alya gestured vaguely, “normal stuff. He’s never really noticed Marinette like that, because he’s not real good with subtle, but he buys into that whole romantic movie, big gesture, winning the lady thing.”

“And that’s where this comes in?” Luka asked drily, nodding at the letter pinned to the board.

“Exactly!” Alya smacked her hands on the counter. “It’s like something out of one of those old movies. We get Adrien’s attention with the whole romantic mystery thing, and in the meantime, they can get to know each other. Marinette can talk to Adrien, because she doesn’t have to actually talk to him and she doesn’t know it’s him anyway, and Adrien can get to see how amazing my girl really is.”

“This seems like a very complicated way of doing things,” he pointed out as neutrally as possible, but Alya waved away the observation with a flip of her hand.

“You don’t know Marinette. Everything tends to be complicated with her.”

“If Marinette can’t actually talk to him in person, maybe he’s not the right one for her.”

“Oh, please! She’s been in love with him forever. Love makes you do stupid things, and she just needs a bit of a push in the right direction. I know Marinette.” Alya narrowed her eyes at him. “And what’s it got to do with you anyway?”

Luka just shook his head, not trusting himself to respond. He was honest enough with himself to admit that the pang of disappointment he’d felt when he found out that Marinette was interested in someone else might have had something to do with his judgement here, but even so, this had all the makings of a trainwreck of epic proportions. He didn’t, however, need Alya’s measuring gaze to know that it was none of his business, not if Marinette wanted this.

He shrugged, and turned away to straighten the coffee cups.

“It’s nothing to do with me,” he told her, and the note stayed pinned to the board until Adrien came in again some time later to collect it. And if Luka’s heart sank a little at the eager expression on Adrien’s face, and the thought that maybe this ridiculous plan might actually work, then he kept that to himself.

[feelingisshit]

Bunnies, Raccoons, and a Present - Bill Denbrough x Artist!Reader

Warnings - swearing, short fic, tooth-rotting sweetness

“Hey bunny, do you think you could pass me that pencil over there?” I pointed across the table while asking Bill and he just laughed. “(y/n), you h-have a pencil be-behind your ear.” I giggled and pulled the pencil out from behind my ear. “Thanks bunny!” I smile widely at him and continue working on my homework.

“Bunny!” I yelled as I jumped up and hugged him. “Maybe he should be the one calling you bunny since you always do that.” Richie pointed out in jest and I shook my head. “You don’t know shit Tozier. I gave him the nickname for a reason!” I told Richie off and he shrugged to the other losers who just rolled their eyes at him. “I should call you raccoon since you talk so much trash Tozier.” I muse while still being held up by Bill in a tight hug. He nods softly, “I think- I think s-so too (y/n).”

“Raccoon boy-” “Can you stop calling me that!” Richie pleaded and I shook my head, “Nope, bunny said it fits and everyone else seems to think so too so it's staying, sorry not sorry raccoon boy.” He sighs heavily and throws his head back against the end of the hammock. Eddie chuckles heartily “I definitely think it fits, and any who, now you know how I feel about all your nicknames towards me…” I nod slowly while going back to work on the sketch I was doing of the two sitting in the hammock across from me. Bill rests his head on mine and hums out of nowhere.

“What’s up bunny? Is something wrong?” I set my pencil down worriedly and shift my eyes to the boy resting on me. “No-not at all, I’m ju-just happy to-to be with a-all my friends.” He nuzzles farther into my hair and wraps an arm around my back. “I-it's also real-really comforting to wa-watch you dra-draw our fr-friends, espe-especially as w-well a-as you draw.” I smile shyly down at my sketchbook, looking at the almost finished pencil drawing of Richie and Eddie sitting together in the hammock. “Thank you bunny, you’re the best.”

“Bev, can you pass me the marker I just threw at raccoon boy?” she nods and tosses the marker my way. “What are you drawing anyways (y/n)?” Bev comes over after smacking Richie in the back of the head for saying something probably mean which I didn’t quite catch. I turn the book towards her and she gasps, “(y/n)! That’s amazing! Where’d you learn to draw like that?” she asked and sat down on the side that wasn’t occupied by Bill. I looked over at him and he was sleeping peacefully in my lap with his mouth partly open while he dried in the sun.

“Actually bunny was the one who taught me to begin with, then from there I taught myself by practicing drawing all of you guys!” I flipped back to a few earlier pages of drawings of the losers club to show her. “Those really are great, wait, what was that one you just skipped over?” I blushed and flipped back to it while looking away and rubbing the back of my neck embarrassed. The one she had asked about was one of Bill, one that I had done while he was laying in my lap like he was now, soft-looking parted lips, luscious lashes, and all. She placed a hand on my shoulder and got up, “That’s really good, you should show him if you haven’t yet. He’d love it!” She encouraged and I nodded along in deep thought about how that situation might go.

“H-hey, (y/n)?” Bill turned towards me with a slight frown and in turn my face fell too. “You re-remember what t-today is right?” his eyes look majorly sad but none the less I nod and in turn, his facial expression gets lighter. “It’s your birthday bunny, I’d never have forgotten that! And I’ll never pretend to forget either.” I smile and place a hand on his, rubbing my thumb back and forth over the large expanse of the back of his hand. I look away with a heated face and remove my hand from his to grab my sketchbook out of my bag. I flip through and stop at the drawing that Bev had told me to show Bill when we were at the quarry. I carefully tear the page out along the perforations. “And since it’s your birthday, I have a present just for you, bunny.” I sputter out and hand him the drawing, which is now in full color with a handwritten note on the back.

As he stared at the drawing I shifted in my seat beside him, my brain couldn’t help but remember what I had written on the back of the full-color drawing of my best friend and crush. Bunny, I know this might be a little creepy to have drawn you sleeping but you know I draw everyone in the losers club. One day you were laying in my lap in the golden sun and looked like this but more indescribable than anything else I’ve ever seen. Since that day I’ve had feelings that have only grown. I only really got the courage to admit this to you on the back of my favorite drawing because Beverly told me you would like it. (the drawing, not my confession) And after that day I colored it for you. I hope you at least enjoy the art and even if you don’t feel the same way for me I hope we can stay friends! Love, (y/n).

I prayed that Bill wouldn’t read the note on the back and rip up the drawing, I didn’t think he would but I hoped and prayed I would be right. If he didn’t feel the same way hopefully he’d just give it back or forget it ever happened or- My spiraling thoughts were halted by soft lips against mine. My eyes came back into focus and saw that it was Bill kissing me and my eyes snapped shut. I placed my hands gently on his arms and when one of his hands moved to my cheek I audibly squeaked. “(y/n)? A-are you a-a-alright? I-I’m so s-sorry I sh-should’ve asked bef-before I did that…” Bill’s stutter got worse the longer his apology got and I finally had to just shut him up by giving him a gentle peck on the lips back.

“It’s fine bunny, don’t worry about it at all!” I smile widely and grab his hand, pulling it up to my mouth to kiss.

[onomonopetabread]

Declawing the Cat- Chapter 1

He just couldn’t figure her out. No matter how many times he’s tried to wrap his head around it, Felix Graham de Vanily couldn’t solve the mystery of Marinette Dupain-Chang; not why she did the things she did, or how, or why she seemed to infuriate him to no end…

It had all started when his brick head of a cousin had the bright idea to convince his mother to transfer him to his school. The two of them had recently moved closer to the Agreste household for more “family solidarity”, but it seemed as though Adrien needed even more quality time with cousin dear.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Adrien? You know Felix isn’t the most social child. Do you really think that your classmates will welcome him as you say they will, even after the incident?”

“I’m positive, Aunt Amilie. The kids in my class are very kind and believe in redeeming others if they apologize. I have no doubt in my mind that they’ll forgive him. I mean, look at how they accepted me when I first started going there. They could have shunned me and thrown me aside like trash, but now I have a lot of friends. The same will happen with Felix, for sure.”

“Well, if you really think so, then it's a beautiful idea,” said Amilie avidly. “What about you, gabriel? Do you think that our sons should go to school together?”

“It will be beneficial for Adrien to have a good influence around the school with him to make sure that he doesn’t try to rebel and become like his… recalcitrant peers,” said gabriel without glancing up from his designs.

“And you, Felix? Do you want to go to College Francoise-Dupont?”

Felix gulped. He didn’t really want to go to school with his ridiculous cousin, but his mother really seemed to like the idea, and he’d hate to disappoint her ...

So that’s how Felix ended up going to school with the same kids he duped. Even though Adrien can be way too gullible (someone really needs to tell him that life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows and not everyone can be trusted), Felix soon found that he was indeed right about his friends. When he arrived there a few weeks ago, it only took a small smile and a half-baked apology to get them to trust him. One might think that Felix would be sulking at the mere thought of going to school with these losers, but he had decided beforehand that if he was going to have any fun at this school, he was going to have to toy with this naive group of teenagers to cause some trouble, and what better way to do that than to make them think he was on their side?

“Guys, this is my cousin Felix. He’s going to be attending school with us for now on. I know you guys will take him in with open arms.”

Kim cut in. “Is this the same cousin that pretended to be you and replied to the videos you sent us?”

Nino had something to say as well. “Why should we trust anything he has to say? He hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”

“Yeah, how can you expect us to just become friends with us after what he did? He’s a liar!” Alya declared.

The rest of the class chimed in with arguments of their own, and who can blame them? It definitely didn’t feel good to be deceived. Soon, the whole courtyard was filled with angry yells and upset students. Adrien, bless him, was trying his best to calm them down and explain.

“Well-”

Felix cleared his throat. Talking ceased and all eyes were on him: Adrien’s glancing nervously, and the others’ full-on glares.

“Hello, everyone. As Adrien just told you, my name is Felix Graham de Vanily. To answer your question, Mr. Le Chein, yes, I’m the cousin of Adrien’s that impersonated him and sent you a cruel response to your heartfelt videos. For that, I am deeply sorry. I have no excuse for what I did. I can only hope that you all will find it in your hearts to forgive me for my terrible sin.”

You could hear a pin drop. All of the students were giving each other and Felix calculating looks. Should they believe him? Was he really telling the truth? After a few beats of deafening silence, Mylene spoke up.

“If you’re really sorry...”

“Oh, I am, you can be sure of that, Ms. Haprele,” Felix nodded, puppy eyes fully on show.

“Then… I suppose everyone deserves a second chance, right guys?” she continued, looking around at the others.

Slowly, the rest of the group started nodding their heads. Where there was anger and hurt towards Felix was now acceptance and forgiveness. Why not forgive him? Of course he was telling the truth! Why on Earth would someone lie to gain our trust only to be able to play us for fools right underneath our noses? It’s not like it’s ever happened before. Oh, if only Lila was here to greet our new friend! It’s too bad she’s away in America doing her internship at NASA!

The group, who were once resentful and angry at the fancily-dressed boy that was in front of them, began to crowd around him, smiles and name introductions all around. By the way they were acting, you would have thought that they all have been friendly with Felix since birth. Amazing what the power of deception held when used right.

He recognized most of them from the terrible videos they had sent Adrien: the manic pixie girl, the ultra-nerd, the stupid jock, the wannabe dj and his amautur reporter girlfriend.

And what a reporter she was! Neither she nor her dim-witted friends could see through his act. They followed him like lost puppies looking for an owner. The only person who didn’t seem to believe him was her. Felix didn’t see her in the schoolyard for his “apology”, and he noticed she never seemed to be around if he’s in the room.

Honestly, he’d thought that Marinette would have been the easiest person to convince. Only a silly, pigtail-twirling, school girl would send such a pathetic confession. “AdRiEn, I LoVe YoU. I’Ll AlWaYs Be ThErE If YoU NeEd Me”. Puh-lease.

But she never seemed to be around, Felix didn’t see her in the schoolyard for his “apology”, and he noticed she never seemed to be around unless they were in class. He sat in the back, and spent most of his time conjuring up plans to recruit her, for after a few days of observations, he’d been able to work out that he had underestimated her. By a lot. Felix found out that she was class president and a good one at that. She was seen as a leader by the others, but it didn’t seem like she used deception to earn that respect. She was actually kind-hearted, selfless, and true. If she wasn’t so annoying and stubborn, those characteristics might have even been...admirable. She really could be a great ally to have by his side. But by jove, was she ever making it difficult. Eventually, he’s been able to talk to her alone. To sum it up, it definitely could have gone better.

During lunch hour, Marinette was on a bench in the park. She was sketching on a notepad, most likely designs for a new sewing project. Felix learned from Adrien that Marinette was a very talented aspiring designer, which took Felix by surprise. You’d never guess that this girl was into fashion by the way she dressed (Felix could not stress enough how atrocious those pigtails were), but he digresses. He isn’t here to insult Marinette’s clothes, though he could do so some other time. He took a deep breath and strode over to Marinette’s seat.

“Ah, Ms. Dupain-Cheng! How lovely it is to see you. We never seem to talk, do we? It is quite a shame really.”

Marinette didn’t move a muscle. It was as though he hadn’t said a word! Ok, well, give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she’s really focused on her drawing?

“I must say, that is a lovely suit that is a lovely suit you’re designing there. I love the use of gold thread on the pants. If I may make a few suggestions-”

“No, you may not. As a matter of fact, I’m going to stop you right there. Don’t say another word.”

“I-I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.” Marinette set her notepad aside on the bench and rose up from the bench to look him in the eye . Never in his life had Felix seen a stronger glare, and even though he was a good head taller than Marinette, he felt as though she could crush him like a grape. Of course, he didn’t let it show. What would it say about him that he shakes like a kitten in the presence of a 4’ 11” teenage girl?

“Now Felix, I’m only going to say this once, so listen up. I know you have everyone else fooled with your nice act, but I’m not as stupid as you seem to assume. You think you’re the first fake I came across? Don’t make me laugh; you’re not even close. Heck, next to Lila, you’re just a petty gossip. The rest of our classmates seem to have put the video incident in the past, but let me make it crystal clear that it is still fresh in my mind. I meant to share something extremely personal with Adrien, we all did, and you screwed that up. You hurt all of us carelessly as if our feelings were nothing more than spinning tops. You know what that makes you?”

Dumbfounded, Felix couldn’t do much more than shake his head.

“It makes you a little bitch. And I don’t associate with little bitches. So unless you can prove to me that you really are turning over a new leaf for good, I don’t want to say one word to you unless absolutely necessary and vise versa. I’ll stay out of your hair, and you WILL stay out of mine. Capisce?

Without waiting for a reply, Marinette turned her heel, grabbed her notebook, and began the walk back to school.

Well, he must admit that Marinette won that round. She certainly was a challenge, but luckily, for Felix liked puzzles. He was going to get Mari to like him, even if it took every ounce of strength and scheming he had in his body.

@mickeyaaliyah @lyssaisprobablynotaloser @firstclassdumbass I wanted to put it in the server but Google wouldn’t let me

@threebirdsinatrenchcoat @ladylupuscrow @kittynoirblog

If you guys want the next chapter here it is