#my art teacher and i were discussing this

[heyitssnek]

The Real Question:

are footie pyjamas counted as:

really really long socks,

a very large shirt, OR

enormous pants

[patch-ie]

barbie cnut the great doodles

[holybibly]

𝔗𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔭𝔢𝔱 | Mingi x reader

Pairing: Professor Mingi x cam girl | student reader Summary: You hated Professor Song Mingi wholeheartedly. He was young, successful, too handsome to benefit himself, and сonfident as the devil himself. The living embodiment of all your red flags - 10 out of 10 on the "rich, narcissist, idiot" list. At the same time, Song Mingi was the sexiest, most gorgeous man you'd ever seen. But what will you do when Professor Song discovers your dirty little secret? And that he might be too interested in giving you a private lesson in good manners? Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, University!AU, Sex Work!AU, Non-idol!AU, sugar daddy, student х teacher, forbidden relationships, cam girl. Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI Word count: 10.3 k Warnings: Unprotected sex, stomach bulge, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, face fucking, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, masturbation, humiliation, blow jobs, rough oral, power play, spanking, orgasm delay, sex toys (dildo, sex machine), sex work and more. net: @cultofdionysusnet A|N: This ff has been in my drafts for a very long time and was supposed to be a really sweet "gift" for my bunnies. But for various reasons, it didn't turn out the way I had planned, and I'm personally not entirely happy with what I've written. But I tried too hard, so I'm posting it. I hope that the bunnies will be pleased with the amount of debauchery and lust that I am about to offer you.

Bunnies, Professor Song is waiting for you in the lecture hall.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity

The real life of a student is not always as fun and glamorous as it might seem at first glance. If you think university life is an endless whirlwind of parties and passionate romances, then I'm sorry to disappoint you. Student life is nothing more than tonnes of homework, endless stress, and litres of coffee, which you probably drink on an empty stomach because you've been up all night studying for the next 'ultra-important' lesson, and of course impossibly annoying and boring professors who seem to be just waiting for the moment to ruin your life. So when there was an announcement at the beginning of the new term that your group would have a new French literature professor, you were completely oblivious. Your previous professor had been a boring, retired man with an unhealthy obsession with young female students and cigarettes who always left his classroom reeking of tobacco, so you didn't expect much from another 'amazing' professor. But, God, you were wrong. Professor Song Mingi was maybe, just maybe, the most handsome and attractive man you had ever seen in your life. With his elegant and chiselled features, he could definitely pass for a haute couture model. His body was an art form in itself and the hottest topic of discussion in the entire university, not only among the crowd of blushing girls in love but also among the female faculty members. 

The way his perfectly pressed classic shirts fit his broad-shouldered, muscular body and the tight, expensive fabric of his pants tightened over his thick, juicy thighs, outlining every muscle, could leave no one indifferent, and even you gave in to the temptation of checking his Instagram profile, especially on lonely evenings. In your defence, you weren't the only one who started fondling herself when thinking of Professor Song Mingi. After all, how could you resist when the man was literally a walking list of the categories on Pornhub? But while Professor Song was a wet dream come to life, he was also the biggest jerk you've ever met. And there were more than a few of them. He was 10 out of 10 on your red flag list: arrogant, narcissistic, annoying, and impossibly self-centred. The world seemed to revolve around him as he looked down on everyone from his lofty perch. 

Seriously, every time you thought he couldn't be more handsome and sexy, Mingi would rush out to prove otherwise, driving everyone around him crazy, but in the process, you found even more horrible traits that both excited you and made you hate him with all your heart. 

And it seemed that you weren't the only one to feel hatred and resentment, as Professor Song, for reasons unknown to you, decided to make your life a living hell, infuriating you with his every word and action. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't live up to Mingi's high standards, and you always ended up at the very bottom of his class. In all seriousness, the man treated you as if he had the proverbial stick in his arse 24 hours a day. But God, that arse, if you had the chance, you would have loved to sink your teeth into it. It was juicy and firm, and it just created an irresistible urge to hold it in your palms and pull his body closer as Professor Song fucked you hard into the mattress. All in all, if Mingi had been able to hold his lectures standing with his back to the students all the time, as a good student, you would have wanted a seat in the front row, but hell, that was a pipe dream because Professor Song Mingi found a new way to drive you to hysteria every time. 

It was really fucked up; you were rewriting your report for the third time, and it looked like you were going to keep on doing it for an indefinite amount of time. It didn't matter to Professor Song that everyone who read your report praised what you said and thought or that you spent a lot of time writing it, sacrificing sleep and nerve cells. But it seemed that nothing could live up to Mingi's standards, which no mortal could ever hope to reach—except for himself, of course. 

"Your report lacks depth and understanding of the subject; I'm afraid you weren't paying enough attention while I lectured, Y/N. Did you have more important things to do than listen? Your report is not very good for a student in the third year. I am going to have to ask you to make significant changes; otherwise, you will not be able to pass in my class. Don't let me down this time, or I'll have to take even more serious measures against you."

As if all you ever thought about was being a good girl for him, slobbering all over him, and giving him obedient nods. He can go fuck himself. You hated Song Mingi so much. 

French literature was always the first class of the day on a Friday, and it was absolutely terrible. After listening to Professor Song lecture for two hours in his deep, pornographic voice, you usually spend the rest of the day looking grumpy and depressed. And to top it all off, Mingi decided to wear one of his most stunning black designer classic shirts today, in which he unbuttoned a few buttons so that everyone around him could admire his stunningly smooth skin, which you wanted to lick. You swear that this man is a true spawn of hell, sent to earth to be your tormentor and sexual frustration. Needless to say, as well as he ruining your mood, your panties were hopelessly ruined by the sticky juices that tickled your labia whenever you moved. 

"Good, at least this day is finally over."  You mutter tiredly to yourself as you enter the dormitory that you share with your best friend, who you can't seem to see anywhere at the moment, which is understandable since it's Friday.

Shit, it's Friday; how could you forget it? Damned Professor Song Mingi. You forgot you were supposed to be streaming tonight because you were so caught up in the whole situation. 

You hadn't planned to do this all along. It was just a one-time thing to pay off some debts, but money is a real drug that you get addicted to too quickly. But it wasn't just the money; it was the attention. The huge amount of attention you got from your followers was so sweet and exciting that it was impossible to refuse. So, like most other poor girls, it was no surprise that you got sucked into sex work and webcamming too quickly. It was good money that paid your way through university and your way of life without much thought for the future. You received thousands of comments from people who were desperate to fuck that pretty pink cunt of yours, as they had always told you, or to do many other lewd and horrible things to you. You weren't ashamed to admit that you had always been an attention whore, and their words and praise made you want more. It gave you confidence in your body and gave you immense power over those on the other side of the screen, just because of your well-groomed little cunt.

With an excited smile on your face, you walk to your room and remember the package that was delivered to you this morning. A very special gift that you are hoping will be the highlight of this evening's stream. You give a slight squeak as you see a beautiful black box made of heavy, expensive cardboard sitting in the middle of your bed, with a small envelope on top of it. You pick it up, sit down on the bed, and bite your plump lower lip in anticipation. The envelope looks like it came from one of those books of gothic literature that you love so much. It's as black as the box it came in, with a blood-red wax seal in the middle.

As you carefully remove the seal, revealing the small note inside, your whole body subconsciously warms.

"I hope this will make you think of me, doll." Le Maître 

The white ink on the black matte paper looks too formal, and you're a little disappointed that the note isn't handwritten. But just to be on the safe side, there's no hint as to who the mysterious sender of the parcel might be. After all, for your own safety, you had to accept the parcel under a made-up pseudonym. 

Le Maître. You practically squealed like a schoolgirl when this user first appeared in your paid private chatroom after one of your streams. There were a few other people there, but Le Maître was different; he was regal and bossy to you despite the fact that he paid to jerk off on your body. He was your number one viewer, attending every stream, sending you huge amounts of money, and complimenting and praising you. By now, you can definitely see that you've developed an unhealthy obsession with praise ever since the first time he referred to you as his "good girl."

Just a few days ago, he sent you a text message saying that he wanted to do something special for you—a little gift in celebration of the fact that your account now has over 25,000 subscribers. The gorgeous gift box on your lap is a special gift, and you have an inkling of what's inside the decadent scarlet corrugated paper. You impatiently rifle through the layers of wrapping paper and gasp when you see what you have received—a little sex machine. As you inspect the shiny, erotic pleasure device, you notice a small piece of paper attached to the sturdy, mechanical body of the machine.  "A special gift for my angel, who already has more than 25,000 subscriptions. You are such a sweet girl. Please use it in your next stream so your Maître can see it. P.S. I have a controller, Dolly."

You swallow loudly, feeling a nervous shiver run through your body and heat build in the pit of your stomach; you're sure your pussy is already wet with a strangely arousing anticipation, juices dripping down the quivering folds onto your lace panties. Fuck, he's really going to fuck you, thanks to this sex machine. Your attention will be drawn to the large dildo that is attached to the mechanism. It's thick and long, with lots of veins running down the shaft, mimicking the swollen veins on a real cock. It's cold and textured to the touch, and you can imagine how shiny and smooth it will be when your cum runs down it. You squeeze your thighs together in excitement, looking forward to using it tonight and putting on a show for your audience that they won't forget for a very long time. You put your 'gift' to one side and get out of bed to get ready for your weekly stream. 

"Hello, bunnies! Are you ready for this evening?" You chirp, your voice sweet and luscious with a slightly childish, innocent tone, as you shyly rub the strap of your sheer lace lingerie. "Tonight I'm going to show you something different from my usual show; as you all know, by now I've reached 25,000 followers." You fidget slightly on the bed, twirling a strand of your long hair around your finger. You purse your lips, knowing that the shimmering lip gloss makes your mouth look just fuckable. 

The mini-sex machine is standing on a pouffe out of the camera's view, and you take a deep breath to calm your excitement before you lean closer to the camera so that everyone can see your face and how plump and juicy your tits look in that bra. Luckily, this site doesn't allow screenshots and will quickly ban any user who dares to do so; otherwise, you could be in big trouble. 

"You're all so nice to me; you deserve to enjoy my face. Today,  I'd like to be a little closer to you. Don't I look especially pretty today?" 

One by one, the comments come in, and you giggle at everyone's excitement. 

"Goddamn, you're beautiful." "I want to cum on that pretty face of yours, baby."  "Your face is making me so horny, sweetie." "These lips are made to suck cock." "You're so pretty; are you going to be an obedient kitty for Daddy?"

We all have our own dirty little secret that we carefully hide, and it happened that the secret of the seemingly arrogant and fastidious Professor Song Mingi was that his regular nightly routine involved watching livestreams of pretty webcam girls with small, tight pussies. A man has needs; sue him for that, and being so busy with work and surrounded by a crowd of hormonal, giggling university students every day, he doesn't have the time or energy to find a connection. And Mingi doubted that anyone could satisfy his sexual appetite. He had always been overly demanding in everything he did, and sex was no exception. Mingi wanted to find a perfect little doll who he could fuck and spoil as much as he wanted; he needed a sweet mouth and free access to a tiny pussy, and in return, he would be happy to give the cute doll his black credit card.

One evening, he found one who immediately caught his attention, and not just because of her pretty, juicy tits and doll-like, shiny mouth, while he was browsing through the numerous profiles of various girls. You were so adorable and innocent-looking, but completely slutty. It was an instant match made in heaven for Mingi. Imagine his surprise when he saw you the first day he started working at the university. You were his student, his sweet little student, the girl he had shameless fantasies about all the time. He thought that he should feel disgusted with himself, or at least ashamed, but to be honest, Mingi didn't care; your cunt was pink and tight, and that was enough to make him forget all sense of decency.

Mingi doesn't know how he feels about it, but the way his cock gets hard just at the sight of you means he'll be getting his money's worth and enjoying the show. His classic black shirt is unbuttoned, revealing his embossed abs and golden, luscious skin dripping with sweat. He unzips his trousers and pulls out his big, throbbing cock, which jerks at the sight of you in the slutty lingerie you have bought with his money. He hisses softly, biting his plump lower lip, his eyes fixed on the cleft between your tits. Mingi desperately wants to fuck your breasts.

"Someone very special has sent me a beautiful gift, my darlings, and I am definitely going to make use of it today." Your cheeks are burning from all the lewd comments, but it is only turning you on more and more, making your pussy even wetter and more needy.

You sit down on the bed, bend down until you can't see the chatter, and pull the ottoman between your legs to the edge of the bed. The sound of the incoming tips becomes loud and constant as soon as the erotic device appears in the frame.

Mingi slowly strokes his thick, veiny member with his hand, clutching the small sex machine controller in his other large hand. He can't help but wonder what it would be like to be the one to destroy your pretty pussy with his cock. His dark eyes bore into yours as he bit down hard on his lower lip and used the pad of his thumb to circle the already-leaking red head of his cock. If only he were able to fuck you right now.

You take a bottle of vanilla lube and smear it on the dildo, moaning loudly as you run your hand from the base to the head several times, tracing the ridges with your fingers to simulate veins, imagining that this is the dick of a certain professor. God, you hate and adore Professor Song at the same time; he is the star of all your most depraved and vulgar fantasies, which is why you always cum so hard and profusely. Fortunately, when you collapse during your orgasm, you have enough control over your mouth to keep from moaning his name.

With your other hand, you pull your pretty panties aside and run your fingers through your wet folds, spreading them slightly and showing off your wetness.

"Fuck, your pussy is so nice." "You've played with yourself before; you're already so wet." "Give me a lick of your pussy, angel."

The comments go on and on, as do the messages about the tips while you are gently massaging your pussy. You close your eyes, bite your lip and let out a soft moan as the pad of your middle finger makes contact with your sensitive clit.

"Damn it, I wish I could have your fingers playing with my pussy right now," you whine. Your free hand pulls down your bra straps, exposing your breasts to the camera, your nipples hardening with growing pleasure. You take the nipple between your fingers and gently twist and pull at it. Your pussy is leaking, the transparent, viscous mucus enveloping your fingers, making them shiny and smooth, and running down your milky thighs, leaving a wet, cold trail.

You imagine Professor Song's long fingers penetrating you, stretching your tight hole, and preparing you for the insertion of his dick into your pussy. Mingi has breathtakingly beautiful hands—wide palms, thick, long fingers, always adorned with rings and bracelets. Fuck, just to feel those rings inside you, pressing against the silky hot walls of your pussy, you would do anything. You circle your fingers around the wet, quivering edge of your hole before you slip two fingers inside, your soft walls tightening around them in an instant. Your other hand stops playing with your nipples and reaches out for the toy that is about to fuck you to death.

Your breathing becomes uneven, your chest rising and falling with your moans and gasps. Your fingers run over the silky walls of your pussy a couple of times before you start to fuck yourself to death at a fast and furious pace. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you stick out your tongue and let it drip onto your naked tits.

You know the effect you have on your audience; they love seeing someone so sweet and angelic looking like a slutty whore, and to get more praise and tips, you pull your fingers out of your cunt and slap your pussy with them. The loud signal of the incoming tip is echoed by the wet, disgusting sound of your hand touching your skin.

"Oh daddy, I want your cock so bad; my pussy is throbbing for you," you say. You hold your fingers up to the camera to show how wet they are with your slick. "I'm such a sweet Daddy; I want you to eat me up. I promise I'll come on your tongue like a good girl." You put your fingers in your mouth; you lick them, suck them, and slurp around them. The moans you make sound more like whimpering than something soft and melodic.

On the other side of the screen, Mingi is moaning in a guttural way as he leans back in the big leather chair in his home office, squeezing and massaging his balls as he enjoys the wet slurping sounds that you are making. His cock is pressed against his hard belly, the viscous pre-cum dripping from the head of it and flowing between the reliefs of his abs. His eyes roll back in his head as he imagines fucking your cunt with his nimble fingers, stretching your tight little hole in preparation for his hard fucking. You will be moaning loudly and writhing as your juices flood his hand and run down his sinewy forearm.

You get on your knees on the bed and adjust the toy so that it's right in front of your dripping hole, holding your knickers so that they don't block the view of your pussy. You are already looking so messed up. A long string of mucus is coming out of your hole, straight onto the toy, and the strokes are coming in at a crazy rate. You look straight into the camera with your big innocent eyes; your lips are pouting sweetly. Mingi hisses at this, grabs his dick, and squeezes it several times. The fingers of his other hand are flicking the switch on the controller of the sex machine.

"Please, sir, I've been such a good girl for you. Are you going to fuck me now?" You are licking your lips with the tip of your tongue, and you are lowering your pussy down onto the artificial dick. The silicone is cold and smooth, and the contrast in temperature between it and your hot pussy makes you moan loudly and for a long time.

Mingi growls, the desire coursing through him as he hears the respectful title that falls from your plump lips, in the same way that you address him as "Sir" in class when you turn up for his lecture, and it drives him mad. He turns the dial, and the car comes to life and begins to move. Your eyes lose their focus, and your mouth falls open as the toy begins to move inside of you. Your fingers spread your labia, and you show the audience how the dildo is slowly stretching your tight little hole. The size of the toy is huge, despite the artificial penis being cold and lifeless, but that doesn't change the fact that it is tearing you apart. Your legs tremble as you try to maintain a stable position on the bed. Your toes curl as you begin to play with your swollen, sensitive clit, stimulating yourself further and causing more of the sticky, slippery fluid to gush out of you.

Mingi watched intently through the screen as you writhed and moaned; the toy was finally buried completely inside you, and he could see its impressive size causing your belly to bulge. Damn it! He can bet his bottom dollar that the silicone head of the dick is in direct contact with your cervix. When he sees how greedily your cunt swallows the toy, his predatory dark eyes flash, and he swallows noisily. You can take his cock like a good girl, and he'll see to it that it happens soon. Even though this toy is much bigger than any you've fucked your cunt with in previous streams, Mingi doesn't give you time to get used to its size. But he knows that in reality, you are an absolute slut who lives for the cock and that you can easily take anything that is given to you.

The sex machine picks up speed, and you scream loudly as you feel the fake veins on the dildo drag along the walls of your body with every mechanical movement��your hands cupping and massaging your breasts, your fingers pinching your swollen nipples. The pleasure coursing through your veins, your moans growing louder by the minute, and your head falling back. Your thoughts turn to Professor Song, of course.

God, that man—the way your body has reacted to him has been completely abnormal. Professor Song Mingi is an absolute asshole, and all he does is bully you and ruin your grades. But fuck, you wanted it so much—to destroy your pussy with his dick. You hate every part of his gorgeous appearance—that stupid long hair, a weird shade of orange that looks damn good on him, those sharp fox eyes that always look at you with judgement. There's such disgust and contempt in his eyes; it's like he's saying, "You're a worthless whore," and God, you really want him to address you like that, especially in that porn voice that makes your pussy leak.

Under your fingers, what will his hair feel like? Will it be as soft to the touch as it is to the eye? What will his eyes be like? Will they be filled with unbridled hunger as his long, slick tongue flicks across your clit? Will his deep voice vibrate against your skin as he moans softly and tastes you in his mouth? Will his big, rough hands be gripping your hips, digging their fingers into the soft flesh until you're bruised and scratched, holding you still as he buries his face in your cunt as if he couldn't live without it for a single day? All these vivid erotic images flash through your brain, the constant beeping of the donors just background noise as you imagine your professor's deep, velvety voice commanding you to cum.

"Wish you could fuck me now. Oh fuck! Please, sir, fuck your pretty little doll properly." You moan loudly as the speed of the sex machine increases, all the words blending together. The whirring sound of the machine synchronises with the rapid beating of your heart as the silicone cock thrusts into you, lewd squelching fills the room, and your moans and cries become longer and more pitiful, like a cat in heat, as your orgasm begins to build rapidly.

"Oh sir, I'm thinking about the way your dick is sliding between my legs. Is it as thick and as big as this toy? Are you going to feed your doll with your cum?"

There are few things in this world that can make Professor Song Mingi lose his balance, but the sight of his cute little student fucking her dripping, plump cunt with the toy he has given her is definitely the one thing that makes his jaw drop. You are fucking beautiful, a real doll that Mingi would like to sit on a velvet cushion in his house and admire like a work of art. He knows you're about to come—your cheeks are flushed, your lips are parted in a perfect orgasmic "oh,"  your trembling little hand reaches for your clit to rub the throbbing bundle of nerves and bring you to the desired climax, and your eyes are so closed you can hardly see.

Mingi's hand glides a little faster over his dick; it's slippery and shiny with the sperm that leaks out of it. At the same pace as you rub your aching clit, Mingi makes sharp, quick circles with his palm around his cock.

"Fuck!" Mingi growls as he grips the arm of the chair and pushes his hips into his hand, the massive bracelets around his wrist clanking as his hand comes down hard on his cock. As the sex machine fucks you hard and fast at top speed, the controller is forgotten on the table next to his laptop. Your piercing moans are music to his ears, and the way your thighs subtly tremble shows the immense pleasure he is indirectly giving you. Your head is thrown back, exposing your neck, and your hips roll on the toy, the juices from your vagina running down your ass and soaking the sheets beneath you, your juicy, plump tits bouncing with the movement of the sex machine.

"Sir, Daddy, please! Can I cum for you? Please let me come for you! I've been such a good girl for you!" You are shaking all over, your orgasm is growing stronger with each passing second, and you know that it is going to be amazing. The palm of your hand is slapping your pussy again, and the sounds of tipping over are coming with renewed force. What fucking perverts!

When he realises the effect he is having on you without even touching you, a tingle runs down Mingi's spine. He has complete control over your orgasm, and you will do whatever he wants without him interfering in your real life.

"Come for me, my doll." His voice is dark and deep, despite the force with which he fucks his hand, the leather chair creaking from the powerful thrusts of his thick, meaty thighs. As if you can hear him, you pinch your clit sharply and squeal deafeningly, your body shaking in small convulsions as you cum on a toy you imagine is Professor Song's dick. The walls of your pussy contract as you try to hold the fake cock inside you as you ride out your orgasm.

Mingi cum right after you, moaning gutturally, his eyes rolling back in his head as streams of cum spray onto his thighs and abs, his mind clouded by the orgasm, and he completely forgets that he hasn't turned off the toy that continues to mercilessly stuff your cunt. His attention is drawn back to you when he hears you squealing pitifully, the tears rolling down your face and smearing your make-up, and Mingi finds himself thinking that he would like to see the same look on your face when his dick is deep down in your throat.

"Oh my God, s-sir, turn it off! Please, I can't... Oh, bloody hell! Sir, I beg you..." You scream, the tears streaming freely down your face as the sex machine continues to fill your pussy with cock like there is no tomorrow, your hands gripping the sheets as the sensory overload washes over your body like a tidal wave.

Mingi looks at you with hunger and animal lust as he watches the toy abuse your used, dripping cunt. Of course, he could turn it off if he wanted to, but he doesn't because he knows that you could just lie back on the bed and put an end to your supposed agony, but you don't want to.

He gives you a devilish grin and licks his lips as he watches the fat tears roll down your flushed cheeks as you beg him to make it stop. Your whole body glistens with a subtle sheen of sweat, and as Mingi has watched your body countless times, he knows every reaction of yours—you will cum for him; he is sure of it.

"Oh god, damn, damn! I'm going to cum again, Daddy." You let out another loud squeal, your back arching as you come for the second time that night, and this time a clear stream of liquid shoots out of your pussy, soaking the sheets even more. The tipping sounds are louder than they were before, and if there was an audience in your room, they would definitely enjoy watching you squirt over and over again. Damn, you really put on a show for them that they won't forget in a hurry.

Mingi smiles with satisfaction and strokes his cock once more, this time prolonging his pleasure with lazy strokes as he watches you whimpering and twitching with the overwhelming pleasure of your orgasm. He is kind enough to put an end to your torment by picking up the controller unit from the table and turning off the sex machine. The loud mechanical whirring ceases as the toy stops fucking you. You slowly rise from your seat, the thick dildo sliding out of your pussy—glossy and wet with your essence. You whimper quietly, still too sensitive, your chest heaving with heavy, ragged breaths. The next thing you do is make Mingi sink teeth into his lower lip until it starts to bleed.

"Let me clean you, Daddy; you have been so good to me today. My cunt feels so warm and full." Your pretty, plump lips wrap around the fake cock's head, smacking sweetly before shoving the larger half of the toy into your mouth, sucking and licking with your tongue like a real cock. After tasting the juices running down the length of the silicone, you close your eyes and moan.

Your brain forms images of how you would do this to Mingi, choking on his cock, swallowing it to the base, tickling his balls with the tip of your tongue; sucking him like a good girl, licking every swollen vein along its huge velvety length, and you know Professor Song has a big, thick dick. You think about how he will grab your hips, slap your butt cheeks hard, and penetrate your needy, horny cunt with one hard thrust until his balls are slapping against your ass. Fuck, you really want Professor Song to destroy you, and this desire almost overshadows the hatred you feel for this man.

Snap back to reality, and you're practically crawling over to your laptop with innocent, tear-stained eyes before pulling the toy out of your mouth with a wet pop and smiling brightly at the camera as if you hadn't just been ruined by a silicone dick. Your mouth is shiny and wet from a mixture of saliva, sticky pink lip gloss, and your juices.

"Fuck, that was so hot."

"I'd like you to splash on my cock as well, honey."

"Wow, baby, I didn't know you could do that. Will you squirt on my face if I pay you?"

"I want to cum in your cunt so bad, sweet cheeks, daddy must keep you full and pretty with his cum."

"You're so fucking beautiful, angel, I'll jerk off on your face every night."

"That was your best stream ever, princess."

All these comments are making you giggle. Men are really just horny animals; show them a nice pussy and they will be at your feet.

You spend some time interacting with the public, reading comments, and showing off your new toys and lingerie that you bought with the money you made from streaming. The cursor hovers over the bright red button, and before you press it to end the broadcast, you look straight into the camera, first slowly licking your lips, then slightly tilting your head to the side with the sweetest expression on your cute little face. It may seem that you are talking to all the viewers, but in fact you are talking to just one man, Le Maître.

"I hope you have enjoyed today's show, sir, and that you have had a lot of fun. But I really want you to use your real dick to make me cum and squirt so hard. I really, really want you to fuck me in real life, Daddy." You kissed and winked at everyone, and you finally finished your show.

Mingi couldn't sleep at all that night; after the show, he jerked off two or three more times, even using an artificial pussy, imagining he was fucking you instead of a cold silicone toy. He came so much that his cum was everywhere, even landing on his luxurious diamond-encrusted Rolex.

In contrast to your restless, overheated professor, you fell asleep almost immediately—tired and satisfied—from an amazing orgasm and from a huge amount of money that fell into your bank account after the stream had ended. Of course, your Le Maître was the biggest donor of all.

Next Friday

"I expect all of you to take this course more seriously and to have your homework done by Monday. From next week, there will be three more lectures on French literature in your course, so don't be a disappointment to me. The class is dismissed."

You sigh heavily, already anticipating the torment the extra pairings with Professor Song will bring you. Fuck, you hate him so much, but the sight of his thighs in those tight trousers should be illegal. That's a real crime against humanity. You gather your things and hope to get out of the stuffy lecture hall, which now always has the smell of pure sex—Professor Song's perfume. If you didn't know any better, you'd be thinking that the man was literally bathing in an aphrodisiac, because it's just not real to smell like that. You never thought you'd be turned on by someone else's perfume, but here we are, drooling on the floor at the incredibly sexy scent that Professor Song Mingi wears like a second skin. Sometimes you wonder: Does the bitch know how attractive he is? But he does, and he uses it to his advantage, judging by that smug, arrogant grin that always sits on those plump, sensual lips. 

You are just about to leave when you hear his deep, husky voice calling out your name. Oh no, not now. 

"I'd like to talk to you about your performance, Y/N." Mingi begins to speak slowly, stretching out the letters and putting emphasis on the last word. There is definitely a certain ambiguity in all this, which you can't quite make out. "What can you tell me about it?" He walks around his desk, leans his gorgeous butt against it, and crosses his arms over his chest. His poor shirt buttons try harder than the devil on a good day.

You tilt your head to the side in confusion and walk down the stairs, authematic, to be closer to him. Why is he asking you that now? Damn, he always finds the perfect time to throw you off balance. Your heart races, and you try to ground yourself, thinking about what an idiot he is and what strange things could be going on in that beautiful head of his. You struggled to read him; his stunning model face always had this arrogant royal expression that completely failed to convey his true feelings, so every time you talked to him, it was like playing with a big cat. 

"I think I'm all right, Sir. Why are you asking?" You stammer slightly, but when you hear Mingi's deep moaning, all your mental scolding about your nervousness quickly fades away. You stare at him with your eyes wide open in an attempt to comprehend what the hell is going on. Your eyes focus on Professor Song. The way your narcissistic jerk of a professor shamelessly adjusts his trousers, which now show a very noticeable bulge in his crotch.

Before you know it, you're standing right in front of him, and your nervousness has returned with a vengeance. He's even more handsome up close—classic glasses perched on the bridge of his perfect nose, his long fingers reaching up to remove them and place them on the table. He stares at you with his dark fox eyes, towering over your petite frame, as he carefully pulls the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows, revealing the massive bracelets around his wrists and the bulging veins on his forearms. God, does he have any idea of the effect this has on you? Too afraid to look him in the eye, you cast a glance at the small cross around his neck.

"Yes, you're doing very well. Too well, actually, aren't you, Y/N?" As his thumb runs down your soft cheek, tracing the outline of your mouth lower until he slides it between your parted lips, you almost gasp and feel like you're going to faint. You don't hear anything but your heart pounding in your ears. It feels like it's about to burst out of your chest. You stare at him helplessly as he presses the pad of his finger against your tongue, stroking it lightly. A devilish grin appears on his plump lips, replacing his usual bitchy expression with something more sinister and dangerous. "Such a beautiful little dolly, aren't you? So skilled with your fingers, so good with that pretty little doll mouth of yours, and you definitely know how to serve that little cunt of yours perfectly." Mingi whispers as he leans closer to you, his other hand reaching under your skirt and squeezing your bare bottom. Fuck, you definitely shouldn't have worn a thong today. "I'm sure you're playing with your sweet bottom, too, bunny." He continues to rub his thumb over your tongue for a few more moments, while his other hand gives your arse a hard massage that makes you squeal with pleasure. You're quite sure that the skin on your bottom is already red from his aggressive touch. As soon as Mingi stops touching you and pulls his hands away from you, crossing them over his broad chest, the situation comes back to you.

You are watching his every move, breathing heavily, letting your eyes glide over every pulsing vein on his forearms, and praying to God that you will have enough strength not to lean over and run the tip of your tongue over them. 

"P-Professor, I don't have a clue what you're talkin' about."

"Oh, darling, don't play innocent; you have a very clear idea of what I'm talking about. I'm really glad you found a good use for the gift I gave you last night, my angel." Professor Song's voice is a velvety whisper, and considering how quiet it is in the lecture theatre, he might as well have shouted, the meaning of his words ringing loudly in your ears. He's like a predator, slowly circling around you, the soles of his designer shoes clicking on the parquet floor. Your feet feel as if they are glued to the floor, and you don't know what to do. When you try to speak again, your voice sounds broken, and you are on the verge of tears. 

"Will there be a report against me, Professor Song? Or what? You haven't got any hard evidence that it's me." You say it with conviction, and hope springs, but unfortunately, it dies as soon as Mingi opens his mouth.

"That may be true, my dear. But you wouldn't want such terrible accusations to be made against you, would you? Mingi taunts you; his deep voice suddenly comes very close to your ear. You feel so unprotected in his presence, so tiny in comparison to his huge, tall body. Why does this man have to be so bloody big?

"They'll never know it was me who found your profile on the porn site; I could easily pass it off as an anonymous tip." You catch your breath as you feel his rough, hot hand slide under your skirt and up your thigh. Mingi smiles at your reaction and leans in closer to you, biting the lobe of your ear. "Besides, this is going to get rumoured around the university. People will be tempted to do a check on your account—people you know, people you might be close to." He goes on, the heat of his breath making you shiver. 

His broad palm grips your mound in a possessive way, the heat from your pretty pussy causing his cock to twitch in his trousers. You try to stifle a shameful moan, but the sound escapes you, and you unconsciously lean forward, pressing your breasts against him. Mingi wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his body as he does so. Oh shit, your head is spinning from the smell of his perfume so close, and on top of everything else, you're ashamed to admit it, but your pussy is terribly wet, and you're pretty sure Professor Song can feel your wetness in the palm of his hand. 

"It may be illegal to screenshot, and your streamers will disappear, but what about the pictures and videos you've posted? Of course, everyone will be able to see your sexy little body all over the place. And don't you dare argue about it. You always look like a thirsty slut, wearing those tiny skirts and shoving your tits in everyone's face. You are a worthless little bitch." Professor Song hisses and presses the palm of his hand harder against your pussy, and you want to rub it against it so badly that it's almost pathetic.

Your tongue doesn't turn into an object; it's as if it were glued to the roof of your mouth. Mingi was right; you've always dressed rather provocatively, and it's never bothered you, but it seemed to bother him. 

"Either way, your name will still be in tatters, and my reputation will be perfect and clean, as it should be. I'm a respected professor with a model student. I'm not someone who watches a cam-girl stream every Friday night and watches how she stuffs a fake cock into her luscious little cunt." Wiping away a tear that has accidentally escaped your eye, Mingi's thumb runs down your cheek. Your vision is blurred by the tears, and the dark, lustful eyes of Professor Song are the only thing you can see clearly.

"Please tell me... What can I do to stop you from saying anything about me?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, and your words are a useless string of letters. Mingi's eyes flash angrily at your whimpering plea.

"Ah angel, you sound even better in real life when you're begging." Mingi moans as his middle finger slowly rubs the folds of your folds through your panties, which are more like a tiny piece of lace and do very little to cover the plumpness of your cunt. You whimper softly as you lean back against his shoulder. You've always been easy to arouse, and the wet sound you make when Mingi's fingers tease your pussy makes it clear that you're absolutely flowing for him right now. You can be sure that as soon as he pulls your panties off to the side, your viscous slime will be dripping freely out of your hole and onto the polished parquet floor. "I think you know very well what it is I want from you. I pay you good money all the time; don't you think I deserve the real thing, my doll?" You let out a loud whimper as his big hand pressed down hard on your shoulder. "On your knees, little one; don't keep your sir waiting."

As you kneel before your professor, facing the growing bulge in his trousers, your lower lip trembles. Professor Song is leaning against the desk, his hands on either side of his body, gazing up at you from under the lashes of his eyes. Your trembling hands are fumbling with his belt, and the sound of the metal echoes through the empty room.

"Oh, now you're embarrassin' yourself, darlin'? Where's that slutty bitch who was squirting all over yesterday because she let her pussy get stretched by a big dildo?" Mingi says it arrogantly, tilting his head to the side and tapping his fingers on his desk in disappointment. You flinch at his words like a slap in the face, but don't bother to reply as you pull down his trousers and underwear, the sight of his thick, wiry cock making your mouth dry as you try to swallow the lump in your throat. Like everything else about Professor Song, his cock is amazing—a drop of pre-ejaculate glistening on the flushed head, a thick vein swollen and throbbing just waiting for you to run your soft tongue over it, and its size—he's got a huge cock with a massive girth that you can barely wrap your palm around. Mingi wraps his hand around the cock, his thumb smearing the wetness over the head before he brings it to your lips and runs his whole length over it, leaving a wet sheen, and slaps your mouth a couple of times. 

"Open your mouth, dolly."

Mingi's other hand tangles in your hair, pulling hard on the long strands as you obediently open your mouth for him. His thick cock enters your mouth slowly, your jaw tensing as you try to get used to the size of it. You choke as the blunt head of his cock hits the back of your throat and the balls rest against the side of your chin. Mingi's thumb caressed your tear-stained cheek, and he cooed sweetly as he watched you gurgle around his cock, drool bubbling at the corners of your lips and dripping down your chin. His cock is hot and heavy in your mouth, the veins stretching across the sensitive, velvety skin. Professor Song doesn't give you enough time to get used to the size of his cock and pulls your head back until the only thing left in your mouth is his head.

"Don't you think you should lick me before I fuck you in the mouth, doll? You were very eloquent about wanting me to do it yesterday." You obediently run your tongue around the head of his cock, feeling more pre-cum pouring from his slit onto your tongue. It has a sweetly bitter taste, and you think that it is very suitable for Mingi. "Well done." Professor Song hisses at you before he pushes his cock all the way back into your mouth. You gasp as your hands fly to his strong, muscular thighs in an attempt to push him away as his hips thrust sharply forward, mindlessly using your mouth as his personal cock sleeve. The thick length of it presses down on your throat, and the bulge of his cock is perfectly visible against the back of your neck with each powerful thrust. 

"I have been waiting for such a long time to fuck that slutty mouth. Darling, I can see that you have nothing more to say to me, do you? That's how it's supposed to be; whores don't get to talk." Mingi lets out a deep moan and throws her head back as she pushes you down on his cock. Your saliva mixes with his pre-cum and sticky lip gloss, coating the length of thickly dick, making it shiny and smooth so it slides easily over your tongue and deeper into your throat. As you reflexively try to swallow, your jaw aches, your lips stretch around the thick circumference, and the walls of your throat contract. Never in your life have you sucked such a big, long cock, yet here you are, fulfilling the role of a pretty sex toy for your professor to enjoy. At least, unlike some lifeless silicone, no matter how expensive, your cunt and mouth are warm and moist. 

As he mercilessly fucks you in the mouth, Professor Song is not shy about his volume, emitting hoarse, prolonged moans and growls. Anyone could walk into the lecture hall at any moment and see your compromising position, but for some reason it turns you on. Maybe you really are a slut, although as long as you get paid enough, you don't mind being one, especially when Mingi is the one scolding you daily until you pass out. 

"Fuck, I'll cum." Mingi gasps as he wraps both of his large arms around your head, trying to hold it in place. You moan around his cock, the vibrations making Professor Song growl ducky as he presses harder into your slluty mouth and your grip on his hips tightens, your nails digging into the juicy flesh, leaving vicious marks, but Mingy doesn't give a shit; you could rip his skin off if he keeps fucking you like a personal doll. His dark, foxy eyes find yours, his beautiful, plump lips are slightly parted, and his balls are clenched, slapping you on the chin. Now you don't even know what to call him. If you thought Song Mingi looked like a wet dream before, then now he's sex itself. 

"Damn, damn, damn, doll!" He moans loudly, jerking his hips as his sperm pours into your mouth. As you forcefully swallow the viscous liquid that seems to have no end, your prolonged whimper is distorted. There's so much of his cum that some of it seeps through the corners of your mouth. He continues to slowly fuck your mouth. "Don't waste it, slut." He says it in a threatening voice, and you whimper at the venom in his tone. Mingi uses his long fingers to push his cum between your lips and roughly wipes the wet mess around your mouth. All of his rings are covered in a thin layer of cum and saliva, but you think it's hot.

You blink twice, catch your breath, and the next thing you know, your knees are no longer touching the cold floor, and your face, wet with tears and sperm, is pressed against Professor Song's spotless, cold desk; he has thrown you on the desk like a fucking doll. Fucking hell, that wasn't supposed to turn you on, but God, this man is just driving you crazy. You're too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice that Mingi has lifted your skirt, exposing your wet thong to his gaze. The cold air in the audience causes your hole to clench in reflex and the liquid to squirt out. 

You have to clench your fist to keep from squealing as the tight, expensive leather of his belt lands on your bottom with a loud crack. Oh my God, he has just hit you with his belt. Oh shit. Mingi doesn't let you recover; he holds your head against the table with one hand while he slaps your bottom again with the other. The sting of the contact between your soft flesh and the belt makes you squirm and writhe. 

"You just sucking my cock, and you're already so wet? You really are a slut. Aren't you?" He smirks as he leans down and sinks his teeth into the flushed skin of your arse before giving you another good spanking. You whimper as Mingi pulls your thong down your trembling legs, long strands of your own slime tugging at the insignificant piece of fabric as he does so. He pushes your buttocks apart so that your plump, flowing pussy is exposed to his hungry eyes.

Mingi picks up your leg, which is bent at the knee, and puts it down on the table. You whimper and grab hold of the edge of the table, embarrassed at how open you are to him at this moment. To be honest, it's the most disgusting feeling—you're embarrassed, but at the same time, you want him to do even more disgusting and humiliating things with you. Professor Song crouches down in front of you and spits into your cunt before licking a long, sloppy strip between your folds. Mingi uses his fingers to push your folds apart and then slides the tip of his tongue into your tight hole, tracing the edge of it. 

"Oh, God, sir..." As Mingi eagerly licks your cunt, avoiding your throbbing clit, you let out a long moan and arch your hips towards his tongue. He pulls back abruptly, his heavy hand coming down on your bruised arse to spank you hard before you can get the stimulation you need. 

"Did I tell you you could move, huh? You impatient bitch." You whimper at his reproachful tone. You scratch the wood with your fingernails as he spanks you again. "A good student answers the question, Dolly." Mingi hisses, mixing the scalding pain with the pleasure of the spanking, as his hand touches your bottom again.  "N-no, sir! You didn't tell me to move! I'm so sorry."

"That's right, doll, but I have a feeling the games are over for today." Professor Song says as he finally gets up to his full height and puts his arm around your neck.

Breathing heavily and hoarsely, Mingi feels the heat emanating from you as he guides his thick cock into your little hole. You let out a loud breath and wonder if his cock will feel like the toy he has given you. Probably not; however much you like it, nothing compares to the warmth and throbbing of a real cock, especially Song Mingi's cock.  You squirm as you feel the head of his cock pass slowly between your muscles, a soft howl escaping from your lips. The dildo you used yesterday is nothing compared to Mingi's dick; it feels bigger and thicker, the swollen veins of his cock stretching deliciously along your silky, trembling walls. The urge to hold him inside you is almost irresistible, and you can't help but clench around him. Fuck, and here you thought Mingi couldn't be more slutty and godlike, and you were wondering if his cock had been given special attention during his creation? You let out a loud moan, your tongue flicking out of your mouth, and right now you definitely fit the definition of 'well fucked'. Drops of sweat roll down Mingi's neck, disappearing beneath the fabric of his unbuttoned shirt, exposing his hot golden skin and sculpted breasts. Heavy breathing replaces what he's saying, and you feel partly grateful for that. When he finally enters you at the base, the head of his cock touching your cervix and his forehead pressing against your shoulder, you both moan loudly.

"S-Sir, y-you're too big."

Ignoring your whimpering, Mingi grabs you by the hips and immediately sets a brutal but rhythmic pace with you. The objects on his desk shake and fall, shattering on the parquet floor as he fucks you, pressing your body against the desk with the full weight of his body. The fabric rubbing against your hardened nipples sends a pleasant tingle down your spine and makes you shiver from the added stimulation. Your moans grow louder and louder, your cheeks burning, and you can hear his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he thrusts your tight pussy back and forth along the length of his throbbing cock. The humiliation of pouring cream around Professor Song's cock brings tears to your eyes, but at the same time, you come to an almost orgasmic pleasure as he slaps your arse again. The sting stings like a bitch, but it feels fucking unbelievably good.

"That's it, goddamn it. I've been thinking about fucking that tight little cunt for ages. You really are the perfect doll to fuck."

It all makes you dizzy, and you moan "sir" and "daddy" as your pussy sucks him up greedily. You're getting so excited; you don't want to admit it, but you can't help yourself. You can't get enough of Mingi's cock. It feels so good inside you. 

"That's my good little girl. You're definitely worth what I've paid for you." Mingi growls in your ear as he pushes harder and harder into your used cunt. He presses down hard on your neck, pinning you to the table, not letting you move, and fucking you relentlessly, his hips moving hard and fast as he takes complete control of your body. Your orgasm starts to form, an intoxicating sensation of rapture coursing through your veins like lava. 

"Sir, please! Harder!" You need to cum so badly that you beg him to go harder.

Mingi's eyes were narrow—dark and cruel—and his muscles were quivering and tense from your pathetic begging. He's a professor, and professors always want the best for their students, especially the ones they like best.

"Look at you, begging for my cock like a good little bitch," he says. He accentuates the last word with a strong thrust and plunges so deep into your cunt that you can almost feel the head of his cock entering your cervix. A mixture of incoherent words and intermittent moans escape your lips. Your head falls forward as Professor Song releases your neck to grab your thighs again, leaving more bruises on them. 

"Will you cum for me, bitch?" He leans down to your ear and nibbles on your lobe, the slapping of your skin and squishing of your pussy echoing through the empty hall.

"Hell yeah! I'm going to cum for you! I'm going to cum for you, Daddy; I'm going to cum on your cock!" You scream, the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter, and Professor Song fucks your flowing cunt faster and harder.

"Then cum, bunny." He growls, his hips losing their rhythm and jerking, his cock throbbing as thick, hot jets of cum coat the walls of your cunt. He moans your name quietly while your voice is barely audible—a weak, panting whisper, 'Mingi'. Both of your bodies are slowly at rest, revelling in the haze of your orgasms. Soft cries and whimpers escape from your lips, and you shudder as you feel your mixed juices pour out of you, staining the floor that was once so clean. You collapse helplessly on the table, your body going limp, a puddle of saliva pooling under your cheek, and your breathing heavy as you try to clear your mind.

Mingi moans. He bites his plump lip as he comes out of you. You whimper, squirming awkwardly as more cum pours from your pussy. You turn back to look at Professor Song, and your eyes almost pop out of your head as you see him pressing your panties to his nose and moaning loudly and satisfied. He smirks at you vulgarly, licks his lips, and wipes his cock with your underwear before tucking his dick into his trousers, the zip jangling loudly. He dismissively tosses your thong aside and presses against you again, pinning you between the desk and his big muscular body, his hot breath touching your earlobe, before whispering in his deep porn voice.

"Don't think that this is just a one-time thing, doll. I have paid for you, and now you belong to me. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes, Professor Song. I understand you perfectly."

"That's good. You're a real teacher's pet. On Monday evening, I will be expecting you for an extra lesson. Don't you dare disappoint me, doll." He slaps your butt once more before he pulls himself away completely and walks out of the classroom. 

Oh, this is really fucked up. 

[myfictionaldreams]

Hey :) i would love to ask for a spicy Lucius Malfoy x Reader ☺️ something like Reader is a young Teacher in Hogwarts and Lucius and her are having an (very serious) affair (takes Place in the chamber of secrets).

The School Governor //Lucius Malfoy x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I've never written Lucius before, but hopefully, you'll enjoy it!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, infidelity/cheating, secret relationship, rough sex, creampie, fingering, squirting, tension, praise kink, size difference, Narcissa bashing (sorry!), kissing, fluff/angst

Words: 2.8k

my masterlist 📚

AO3 Link

“Are you sure you’re supposed to be here at this time of day, Mr Malfoy?”

The corner of the man’s lip twitched up like he was trying to smile but attempting to conceal it by remaining stoic. You were then faced with his signature sneer, those piercing grey eyes wandering over your appearance as if he was assessing whether he even wanted to waste his time. “It seems I’ve become lost on my travels around Hogwarts. Might you show me the way out?” Lucius asked with disdain thick in his voice

“Of course, Sir. Just this way”, you pointed in the direction you’d just walked from. No one even blinked an eye in either of your directions as you led him away from the grouping of students who were all on their way to bed as the night drew closer to curfew.

Your head remained forward, not once looking over your shoulder to check if he was following as you knew that he would be. You thanked Merlin for having an office so far away from students and other professors as the main offices were already lived in. You were new to the school, recently hired to assist Madam Pomfrey with Herbology, as she was too busy trying to attend to the Mandrakes.

The job may have been due to the recommendations of the man following closely behind you, his cane clicking against the stone floor and billowing close, switching the dust in whichever direction he turned.

As you both approached further towards the greenhouses and, thus, your office, there was a blossoming of heat and anticipation spreading from the centre of your chest to the tip of your toes. This was always something that your body seemed to do whenever within arms reach of the school’s governor. Moreover, he always seemed to be at the school nowadays, stating that he was there on school business, especially with the latest attacks on the students.

This is just an excuse, however, pretending to look around the school to catch the Headmaster in a scheme, but really, he would be sneaking to your classroom, office or meeting in the Forbidden Forest.

It was wrong. More than wrong. He had a wife, whom he was incredibly unhappy with, having been forced into a marriage as soon as he’d finished his time as a student at Hogwarts. All to abide by the pure blood status and traditions without any sort of say in the matter. Forced to live a life of misery, reproduce and have heirs and then die in a loveless marriage.

This was the only reason you had continued to meet with him. The ache in your heart quickly succumbs to his negative life. You knew he was manipulative, quick-tempered and had questionable ideologies on the dark arts. But when it came to Lucius Malfoy, it was as if your mind purposefully ignored these warning signs, mainly because he never discussed or acted in a horrible way around you.

You were always his peace and tranquillity, his little saviour in the dark before the world's realities came crumbling down around him. There you were, gifted with the raw, passionate, and incredibly loving man who held your hand when walking past, stroking your cheek to catch any slipped tears when it was time to say goodbye for a few more weeks.

It was a complex relationship to have and made even more so when you were now having to teach his son, Draco, who seemed to be a smaller copy of his Father, to be even more arrogant at his young age. It meant that you could give him additional help to boost his grades and, therefore, please his father, which, in turn, helped bring positivity into the secret relationship.

As you were greeted with the view of the long corridor that led to your office, your steps slowed as Lucius snapped, “Dobby. Check the area is clear for any prying eyes”.

With a flash out of the corner of your eyes, Dobby appeared and disappeared, apparating further down the corridor in multiple positions to check if the two of you were truly alone.

“The area is clear, Master”, Dobby approached before disappearing completely. You and Lucius rushed the remaining way to the office. You opened the door wide enough for him to follow through and slammed closed. As your wand waved in front of the handle, thoroughly locking the two of you in, a hand gripped your hip, turning your body so that your back met the door's wood.

A leathery gloved hand then cupped your jaw, tilting your face back so that Lucius could kiss you with as much desperation and urgency as you felt in the centre of your chest. It almost hurt with how much pressure his face was applying to yours, his warm breath fanning across the apple of your cheeks with where his nose was pressing. Your hands lifted to grab any part of him and ended up clinging onto the opening of his cloak, harshly tugging him even closer until there wasn’t a gap between your bodies.

Releasing a soft moan from your throat, this seemed to begin moving further, both gloved hands now cupping both of your cheeks in a safe cocoon as his thumbs caressed careful circles against your skin.

The coldness of the material wasn’t enough to satisfy your need for him as you dipped your head to free your mouth. “Off! I need your clothes off!”

Lucius’s baritone laugh burst across your face as he stepped back to give the two of you some room. “Such a demanding little thing, aren’t you?”

“I am when you’re wearing so many layers! Take them off!”

He chuckles at your reaction once more but finally begins to remove the cloak from his shoulders and gloves from his hands, next attempting to undo the luxurious vest jacket that he wore. The buttons running down the middle were taking too long for him to undo, so you quickly gripped either side of the best and pulled hard, surprised by your strength as the buttons began to pop off and tumble.

“Do you know how expensive this was?” he asked incredulously, but humour still danced behind his bright eyes.

“I’ll fix it at the end”, you say breathlessly, wrapping both arms around his neck and pulling him in for another heated kiss. A perfect mix of lips, teeth and tongue, all moving together, nipping, licking and sucking. Neither mouth pulled apart from the other, making the actions more frantic and chaotic with the attempts to remove more of the clothing articles. Soon, you both became frustrated by the barriers and settled for the basics.

Leaving your jumper and skirt on, you kicked off the shows, tights and underwear you’d been wearing as Lucuius kept his white shirt on but undid his leather belt to loosen his trousers and boxers until they were around his knees.

Lucius pulled back from the heated kiss first, but only so he could turn you around and push you face-first against the door. You huffed at the impact but soon were groaning in pleasure as he lifted your skirt and began to rock his dick against your folds, teasing you with gentle pressure before finding its home in your warm cunt.

“Silenco”, Lucius whispers, waving his hand as the atmosphere becomes dense as the spell renders the area soundproof. With the safety of the spell, your mouth fell open, and a barrel of dirty moans left your lips as you didn’t hold back from telling him how good it felt to be stretched by his cock once more.

Lucius dipped his height so that his forehead could rest against your cheek, breathing heavily as he thrust hard and deep. The pace was bruising to the side of your face, resting against the door, but nothing in the world would get you to stop at that moment. To be able to feel his thick length fucking hard into your pussy was something you craved every day.

As your hand reached the back of his head, gripping his silky white-blond hair, you gasped, “I’ve missed you”.

Lucuius groans as he nuzzles into your neck, biting the skin just below your ear as his arm moves around your waist, angling your hips so your arse is sticking out slightly so he can deepen the thrusts.

“I’ve missed you too, little witch. So much more than you could ever know”. Your heart could have stopped at his words, falling even more in love with him than you had before, which tightened your drenched walls even further around him. “I know you’re close. I want to feel you cum around my cock Darling, cum for me like the good witch I know you are”.

As he praises you, the arm around your waist slips beneath the front of your skirt so that he can roll your clit in circles, matching the pace of his hips. Your thighs tremble, fingers clenching his hair until it hurt, but Lucius didn’t stop until you were crying out in pleasure, cunt clamping in spasms around his length, and he, too, joined you through his own orgasm.

Lucius didn’t stop rolling his hips until you were sated and calm from cumming, and his seed had soaked as deep as he possible, caressing your cervix and then dripping out down your thighs. The two of you sighed in contentment, staying together, pushed against the wall, and just appreciating the moment you had tangled against one another.

“I didn’t expect to see you for at least another week. Have you come because of the attacks?”

“I feel as a good Govenor; my answer should be yes”, he whispered against the shell of your ear, nipping the lobe with his teeth, causing goosebumps to rise down your arms. “I can’t deny, however, that it was you that brought me here. I meant it when I said I missed you”.

Even with his softening cock still inside of you, he knew how to make your knees tremble as you blew out a long breath as you asked, “Can you please stay?”

You could feel his shoulders dropping and knew his answer before he’d even begun to speak, and sadness spread through your body, replacing the euphoric sensation. Lucius gently kissed the back of your head as he carefully eased himself away from you, “I’m sorry, my love, you know I can’t”.

Smiling to hide the upset, you turned to him, “I know. I’m sorry I always ask; I just hope that one day you’ll be able to say yes”.

His warm hands cup your cheeks delicately as you do the same for him, carefully moving some of the messy strands behind his ears. “I’m sorry”, he says earnestly.

“Could you stay for a drink at least?”

“I would never say no to a drink with you”. Lucius began to dress, looking significantly more chaotic than before but always looking crisp before leaving. All you managed to do was pick up your discarded clothes and shows, straighten your jumper and wait for him to wave his wand between your legs, cleaning up the mess he had created with a smile.

Walking further into the office, you entered through the hidden door at the back of the room leading directly into your living area. The fire sparked to life as soon as you stepped onto the roof, instantly filling the vast space with heat and an orange hue. Pouring the both of you a hefty glass of dark liquid, you both cheered the glasses together, taking a deep swig of the alcohol that burned your throat deliciously and then settled into the sofa.

You sat remarkably relaxed with him, leaving your bare legs thrown over his lip as his arm settled around your shoulders to keep you close as you watched the fire lights dancing with the flickers of the flames.

“He’s nearly top of the class, but I think he’d have a hard time trying to best both Longbottom or Granger”, you explained sometime later as Lucius asked how Draco was fairing in your class. The man scoffs, only earning him a slap to his chest, “Hey! They’re my students; stop that”. Thankfully, he held his tongue and didn’t prattle on his biased opinions on pure-bloods or traitors, which he had quickly learnt was nothing you were particularly focused on. “Could I ask about what the governors are going to do about the attacks? I don’t want them to close the school, but it feels so dangerous now that students are being attacked”.

Lucius’ arm tightens around your shoulder as his lips press against your temple. “Nothing will harm you, Darling, and I’ve told you this already: I can’t speak of the Governor meetings. We’re sworn to secrecy”.

“It’s not me I’m worried for. It’s the children. It means - aren’t you worried about Draco?”

Your head tilts back on his arm so you can look up into his effortlessly handsome face, expecting him to be worried. However, he only appeared to be as calm and in control as ever, his grey eyes dancing with yours and the bottom lip you’d tucked between your teeth.

“Not at all. He’s in the safest house with the safest blood. I have no worries for my son”. His answer confused you, but you’d just put it down to his many prejudices and superiority complex. Reach up to stroke the smooth sin of his jaw, and you can’t resist the temptation to lean closer and kiss him deeply, tasting the alcohol on his tongue that matched your own.

“What’s it like?” you ask between kisses, unable to stop yourself from asking. “At home, I mean, what’s it like? Do you have any happiness at all?”

“You know I’m not happy and never will be with her”, he answers abruptly, to look at you with a questioning gaze.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I know you hate her”. You refuse to say her name both from shame and jealousy. “Do you have anything else that brings you joy? I hate the thought of you being alone in a big house with no one to give you any positivity”.

The hand lazily resting across your calves begins to draw circles into the skin as he contemplates his answer. “Without Draco there, I have no one. Narcissa and I may eat meals together, but that’s as far as it goes. We never talk; we even sleep in separate rooms. Everything is always for show, which is why these moments with you, where I get to be with someone I genuinely love, mean the most to me”.

You shake at his words, feeling the edges of your eyes water as you cling to him with even more desperation. What's more, the hand on your calf was beginning to slowly creep up the sensitive area of your inner thigh, distracting you from continuing the conversation as your legs automatically parted, giving him more room.

“Lucius”, you pleaded, eyes following his long fingers, the thick silver ring with the ‘M’ wrapped around his thumb adding extra sensitivity with the coolness of it against your skin.

“Shh, I’ve got you, little witch. Just relax for me”, he whispered against your temple as his fingers finally reached their goal. Your head tipped onto his shoulder as your back arched. All of your thoughts were centred on the skillfully trained fingers as he explored your dampening folds, spreading them with ease to give his middle finger the path to your eagerly awaiting hole.

You were a mewling mess as he eased two fingers into your cunt, coating the digits in your juices and rocking them in and out carefully. Lucius began to move the arm around your shoulders, relaxing his hold so he could lie you down on the sofa as he leaned over you, his mouth hovering just above yours.

“Are you going to be good for me, my Darling?” he asks, his warm breath teasing you once more as your legs try to clamp his hand in place.

“Yes!” Your shout was abrasive, but only because he’d already caused you to become a pathetic mess. Lucius smiled against your lips but didn’t move to kiss you properly as he applied more pressure with his fingers and thumb and stroked your clit.

You could feel his soft hair falling around your face as he began to curl his fingers inside of you, pounding that one spot within you that had you seeing stars. You weren’t able to say a coherent word as moisture squirted from your cunt, coating his fingers and wrist as he continued the action at a hard and fast pace.

The sloshing noise was obscene to your ears as he made you squirt over your thighs, sofa and his black trousers. You weren’t even sure you’d came as everything went from 0-100 with how intense his fingers had made you feel.

When he slowed his curling digits, you were a gooey mess in his arms. A grin erupted across your face as he sighed into the cushions, leaning further into his chest as he kissed your temple, allowing you to catch your breath.

“I must go; it’s getting late. You know I love you, my little witch”.

“I love you too, Mr Malfoy”.

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Chapter One

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff. I love her and all her art so much that when I saw Ralak I was so compelled to write a fic for him. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Teytey, you knocked it out the park with this one (as you always do, my love).

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: shit ton of fluff, profanity, age gap, a lot of sexual tension, size difference, let me know if i forgot anything?

Word Count: 4.4k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: I hope I did this gorgeous man justice and wrote his character well. It was an interesting challenge to introduce his character and build a plot with it. Chapter two and three will be out shortly! I’m beyond overjoyed that you guys are excited for this 😊 I hope I don’t disappoint lool

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

Next ->

The Sully family adopted you from birth, taking you in as their own. They were more than patient with your delayed milestones, moving at the slow pace you set since childhood. You completed your iknimaya a cycle later than your siblings, despite your eagerness to prove your self-worth as one of the Sully’s. Being a late bloomer and smaller than the average na’vi never put a damper on your optimistic attitude, though. It only added fuel to the fire.

The news to seek uturu with the Metkayina came as a shock not only to you but the rest of your siblings, and soon became the leading topic of discussions at family dinner. Jake explained that this is what was necessary, and that you would need to ‘pull your weight’ and ‘make a real effort’. You knew he didn’t mean it as harsh as it sounded, but the words stung nonetheless, plucking out a couple heart strings when they pierced through your chest.

You’ll never forget the day of your arrival here.

War horns blew loudly, signalling your arrival to the village of Awa’atlu. All the members of the clan swarmed the shore to see what the fuss was all about. Even the little ones that could only toddle wriggled their way out of their parents’ arms to get a glimpse. It was overwhelming – to say the least – to have all these eyes on you, scanning every foreign feature of your body, walking around you to inspect you further. You’d never felt more objectified in your life.

When Tonowari and Ronal made their grand entrance on their skimwings, your heart thud furiously in your chest. Sure, the large, winged fish took you by surprise, but the man to Tonowari’s right shook you to your core. His head tilted in wariness, hunting knife secured cautiously in his right hand and the leather wrapped reign gripped tightly in his left.

Wet, long hair plastered to his chest; he eyed you down momentarily before averting his gaze to the rest of your family that calmed their ikrans. His eyes widened ever so slightly at the winged creatures, large with armoured skin, much like the beast he’s bonded with.

You couldn’t help but stare aghast at his sinewy, chiselled features – sculpted by Eywa herself. It didn’t take long for you to understand why he was Tonowari’s right-hand man. His expression of indifference remained fixed on his face. Embodying that of an akula, his presence brought an intimidation like no other.

But what you couldn’t understand were the butterflies that plagued your stomach.

Your gaze lingered for a moment too long, the akula himself now returning the leer. It sent shivers down your spine, turning your butterflies into knots. You looked away, gaze falling onto your toes that burrowed their way into the sand. You felt his eyes bore into you, taking in each dark blue stripe on your tiny body, your slender extremities and thin tail.

You peeked at him through the corner of your eye, to see his gaze locked on your tail as it swished side to side. You saw his ears perk up, and the minor curl of his lips, a sight only a person staring as intently as you would see. You watched as his expression morphed into one of confusion, just before he dropped his head all together. 

You would later come to find out that he couldn’t quite understand his own butterflies in his stomach.

The giant stayed seated on his winged beast, as Tonowari and Ronal dismounted theirs and crossed the shore in only a few strides. Initially, they were wary of your arrival, thinking your family would bring war to their village. After your father reassured them, they were gracious enough to grant uturu for your family, and even dispatched their own children to teach you the ways of the people.

Naturally, you had a hard time adjusting to the new biome, water was never really your thing to begin with. You were slow in the water, slender body only holding you back more. The olo’eyktan’s son, Ao’nung, quickly grew agitated with you, handing you off to his sister, Tsireya, who was already overwhelmed with teaching your siblings. You felt like a burden, holding everyone back during lessons. There was absolutely nothing that you were getting the hang of, not even the ‘finger talk’ as you brother calls it.

For the first in your life, you felt completely defeated.

The sweet, determined girl disappeared, leaving nothing but her shell behind. You started missing lessons, making up reasons to stay back in your family marui pod. You often found yourself alone sitting on the shore in the height of the eclipse, dipping your feet into the warm water. Jake would always find his babygirl, demanding to know what was wrong. But you could never reveal the truth, not after what he said to you before your departure. Especially not now, not after failing so terribly for two entire months.

At this point, your siblings had passed their iknimaya, and you were the only one left.

----

Tsireya presses two fingertips right above your navel, resting her other hand on your chest, fixing your posture. “Breathe from down here. You must slow down your heartbeat, y/n.”

You’ve heard this a million times by now. You know this, but it didn’t matter. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get it. Frustrated, you exhale harshly, gritting your teeth so you won’t speak the words flooding your mind.

“Look. I know you’re frustrated, but you are getting so much better. If we just keep –”

“No! I’m fucking tired of this. I’ll never get it. Alright?!” you shout, shuffling to your feet to.

You scan the circle of surprised na’vi, all of which are staring up at you in disbelief. You could see Tsireya’s face screw with hurt, which only makes your heart ache more. An apology brews in your chest, when all five pairs of eyes flicker to something behind you. Turning on your heels, you see what everyone is looking at.

Jake, Tonowari, and his right-hand man all standing in front of you, presumably listening to your every word. You stand there for a bit, eyes bouncing between Tonowari and Jake before landing on the giant. He stands tall, staring off into the distance with that same deadpan look on his face. His hair is tucked behind his ears, revealing the stud in his lobe, the freckles on his jaw – the deeper blue markings on his neck.

This is the first time you’re getting a good look at him, seeing the first time you two met things were... eventful.

His freckles are conspicuous, even in broad daylight, beautifully patterned and abundant throughout his body. Perhaps it’s his lighter-cyan coloured skin and swirls for stripes, but his freckles twinkled just right from the reflection of the water. They even seemed to trace his stripe pattern on his forehead and brow bones. A single tahni under each eye... his ocean, impassive eyes.

A sleeve of tattoos covers his right arm, a sleeve on his right knee to his ankle, and a tattoo of stripes below his navel that went underneath his – oh. Your brows lift slightly, tensed facial muscles relaxing.

That’s an interesting place for a tattoo.

This tattoo continued between his prominent v-lines, under the band of his loincloth. You begin counting the stripes.

One, two, three, four, five... six.

It takes the sound of Jake clearing his throat for you to reluctantly peel your eyes away from this poor man’s crotch.

“Right, babygirl. Ralak here is going to be your teacher from now on.” Jake motions his hand over to the Metkayina, who’s now visibly, and unsuccessfully, trying to appear friendlier.

You couldn’t help but scoff, frustration now bubbling over in your chest once more. “So what? I’m so shit at this that I need a ‘special’ teacher?” you glance over at Ralak and roll your eyes.

“Language!” Jake whispers harshly, giving you that look. The look he gives you when you’re embarrassing him. 

“No. I’m tired of this. I want to go home.” you shrug, storming past him just for him to wrap his hand around your upper arm and drag you back.

“That’s enough.” Jake growls, bending over to meet you at eye level. “Tonowari has been kind enough to arrange for Ralak to help you. He was once a fisherman.”

“The best. At about your age.” Tonowari stands proudly as he utters the words, “And now he’s one of the best warriors. I hand selected him myself.”

Your eyes flicker over to Ralak, whose ears lay flat against his skull, brows slightly pinched, jaw clenched. It’s hard to tell what he was feeling, his mask of indifference fixed tightly on his face. Was he grimacing? Or maybe he was trying not to.

Regardless, it looked as if the words upset him. Maybe there was something more beneath this cold exterior. Something that maybe you can pry out of him. Something that intrigued you. The corners of your lips curl upwards, an expression that any outsider would perceive as happiness, but Jake knew you had something else in mind.

Something more mischievous.

“I apologize, sir. I am... just frustrated.” your eyes shift from one giant to the next as you bow before the olo’eyktan. “It would be an honour to have Ralak be my...” you glance over at him, “...karyu [teacher].”

Jake remains silent, pursing his lips as he watches the scene unfold.

“Ah. I understand.” Tonowari smirks, shrugging his shoulder. “It is decided, Ralak will teach you.” he looks at Ralak, giving the order, “Today.”

Jake raises his brows at you, as if he were telling you to behave and not cause any trouble. You tilt your head and subtly stick out just the tip of your tongue. Tonowari walks away, a large hand brushing against Jake’s back to signal him to follow. Jake turns around and joins the larger na’vi, two olo’eyktans now making their way back to the tall mangroves.

“Hey, karyu.” you sing, eyes fluttering as you stare up at the towering man.

He looks down at you for a moment, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. His ears twitch as he swiftly turns around, walking away from you. “Come.”

So that’s what his voice sounds like.

It’s gruff, yet smoky. Deep and husky, thick with... nothing but his Metkayina accent. It was flat and monotone, revealing nothing of his true character. You follow closely behind him, already excited about how you plan to get him to reveal more about himself. He seems to be a man of few words, reserved and... composed. You couldn’t deny that there is a part of you that wants to poke at him, to see how far you can take things with him.

Before you know it, you’re standing in a secluded clearing on the shore, nestled far away where the fishermen tend to hunt. You look around, scanning your surroundings with curious eyes. You see a secluded marui pod, seemingly larger than all the others you’ve seen thus far. It's tightly woven with orange and red sturdy material, secured tightly to the thick mangrove roots around it.

“That yours?” you stick him with your first poke of the day, eager eyes trying to look inside the marui.

His gaze remains fixed on the fishnet that he’s gathering in his hands. “Yes.”

“Pretty big for...” you mumble, shifting your gaze towards him to be met with the sight of him unbuckling his cumberbund. “...just one person.” your voice dwindles in volume, fading out into a breathy whisper.

If your eyes could protrude from your head anymore, they would. You always had a hard time masking how you feel as your facial expressions were quick to give it away. His cumberbund falls into the wet sand, embellished razor sharp akula teeth piercing its surface. Your eyes trail up his body, settling on his bare chest.

“Today, fishing net. Tomorrow, ilu.” he mutters, putting his hair into a loose bun as he ventures further into the water.

“O-kay.” the word comes out broken and awkward.

Venturing out into the water, he settles in the spot he used to go frequently as a fisherman. Waist deep into the water, he looks behind him, chin meeting his chest to land his gaze on you, chest-deep in the water. He realizes that he's gone too far out for you, and walks towards you.

Your beaded top plasters to your chest, revealing your peaked nipples as your breasts bounce with the tide. His eyes quickly avert to the shore, eyelids fluttering a little faster than they should.

“Come.” he walks past you, prompting you to follow him once more. You bounce your way back to the shore until the water is crashing into your stomach. “Watch.” he says, fixing his stance to show you a demonstration.

You watch intently, focus being on the wrong thing, honestly. Your eyes had a hard time looking away from his chiselled body – from each dip and ridge of his muscles on full display. How could you focus? Especially now that he’s barely thigh deep into the water, loincloth clung to his bulge. You swallowed thickly at the sight, was that huge thing really his –

“Erm. Got it?” the sound of him clearing his throat snaps you out of your deep thought.

“Mhm!” you nod quickly, doe eyed and genial smiled.

He nods once, handing you the netting. You take it slowly, buying yourself sometime to figure out how to throw this thing. Standing with your left foot in front of your right, you bend your elbows out, holding the yoke of the net close to your chest.

He grunts in disapproval, settling behind you to fix your stance. He gently kicks your feet apart, putting your dominant foot in front. Large hands grip your tiny waist, shifting your stance slightly to the left. They slip up your sides, and run along the length of your upper arms, stopping at your elbows to tuck them in. He’s so focused on correcting your poor posture that he doesn’t even realize how he’s pressing himself against you.

“Like this.” he huffs, hand enveloping yours to shift it further from the yoke of the cast net. “Hold here.” his other hand grabs the lead line and plunks it into yours.

Heart pounding at a dangerous speed, you take a few deep breaths. Perhaps it was the nerves of casting your first net, or maybe it was just how this gentle giant is pressed against you. Either way, you can’t ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach again.

“Now throw.” he says barely over a whisper, backing away from you.

You twist your upper body, core tensing when you throw the net as hard as you can, only for it to clump together rather than spread out. Your shoulders drop and lips press tight, a wave of disappointment washing over you.

“Again.” he orders, pulling the net towards him.

--

Ralak had you throw the net half a dozen more times before giving you your first break. You prodded and poked at him, trying your best pry personal information out of him – to no avail. He remained unaffected by your persistent jabs, revealing nothing other than how he pined for the days of being a fisherman.

“Karyu. I-I’ll never get it.” you huff in frustration, gathering the fishnet from the surface of the water for a tenth time.

“Again.” he says patiently, unbothered by your frustration.

“Karyu. Please. It is not working. Can’t we try something else?” you beg, arms and back sore from throwing the fishnet so many times.

He looks at you for a moment, taking in the slouch of your back – the strain on your face. He felt bad for you, but he could also see that you were so close to learning the skill.

“No. Again.” he orders monotonously, taking note of your gaze drifting off to the mangroves nearby. “Focus. Eyes on me.”

“How am I supposed to focus when you look so, so –” you cut yourself short with a sigh.

“So, what?” he tilts his head and raises a brow.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, landing them right on that damn tattoo again.

Why was it so low? Didn’t that hurt? Why there of all places?

“Look. I see you –”

The words make your eyes snap up to his, heart thumping wildly in your chest.

“...staring.”

You didn’t realise you were lingering until he pointed it out. How could you not? Surely, he chose that spot for a reason. Perhaps his mate wanted it there, so she could trace the lines with her tongue, all the way down to his –

Am I... jealous right now? I don’t even know this man.

“Who did that tattoo?” you question harshly, green flame of envy igniting in your chest.

“This one?” he chuckles softly, tugging at the hem of his loincloth.

You drop your head, gaze locked on your hands fiddling with the net, hoping to hide the blood that’s rushing to your cheeks. “Yeah. That one.”

“Again. And I tell you.” he pulls the hem back up before crossing his arms over his chest.

Your gaze snaps back up to him, eyes wide with excitement. This is the first time he’d be revealing anything personal about himself. A smile splits your lips as you fix the net in your hands once more, burrowing your feet into the sand. Your eyes narrow on the target – a school of fish off in the near distance.

Twisting your torso, you cast the fishnet, watching it splay out perfectly and trap majority of the fish. You stare in awe, surprised that it even splayed out much less caught some fish. Once it registers, you jump up in glee, quickly turning to your teacher to see his pleased expression and slight nod.

“I did.” he utters, a smirk barely pulling at his lips.

Adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you’re perplexed by his two words. “Huh?” you huff, brows pinching together in confusion.

“I did the tattoo.” he says, holding eye contact with you.

“Oh.” your lips pucker at the words, furrowed brows now raising in understanding. Being so surprised by yourself – finally getting something right – you forgot about your little deal.

He breaks eye contact to look over at your perfectly casted fishnet. “If you ride an ilu, maybe I show you the rest of it.” he says through his thick accent, making his way towards the fishnet. “Since you are so... interested.”

“I-I’m not – it, it is just in a – an interesting spot.” you stutter, eyes locked onto your twiddling thumbs.

“Ah.” he gathers the fishnet in his large hands, bundling it together to call it a day. “If you say so... vultsyìp [stick; tree branch]”

“What did you just call me?” your leer snaps up, eyelids squinting at his tensed back muscles that flex and relax as he gathers the net.

A smile pulls at his lips, although you can barely see it from the angle in which he’s facing. It’s contagious, causing your own lips to curl, and soon enough you’re giggling into your hand.

----

Ralak became the light in the darkness, pulling you out of your shell and filling you with the purpose that you once lost. Things came quick to you, thanks to him. He was a great teacher, always patient with you, never showing his agitation – or any other emotion for that matter.

You learned how to hold your breath properly in only a week, due to his persistence and confidence in you. He’d always be quick to praise you after you accomplished something, whether that be with a quick clap, a gentle tap on the back, or – in bigger accomplishments – a hug.

The bond between the two of you strengthened. Overnight. You put a crack in his walls, and bits of his true self began to shine through them. And that was your biggest accomplishment yet. To see a person with the strength of five men turn into a little water puppy in front of you, and you only.

There would be moments where his façade of indifference would drop completely. The moments where he would chuckle a little too loudly, a little too long. Where that shy smile grew wide enough to flash his lengthy canines, and a primal part of you that you tried to supress, desired to know what they felt like sunk into your neck. Clamping down on you while you writhe underneath him, being tamed by his touch.

The moments where you’d tease one another about your differences. His stature in comparison to yours. Pressing your hands together, only for yours to be lost in his palm. And when you pulled away, your fingers intertwined ever so slightly, prickling the skin all over your body. He loved to tease you. Honestly a little too much, poking at your chest with a figurative finger about how you favoured that of a vultsyìp. It’s what got you riled up the most and soon it became your nickname.

Until the day you successfully rode your first ilu.

It was an exhilarating experience, nothing like what you had experienced prior. You glided through the water effortlessly, flowing with the movements of the blubbery creature. When you broke the waters’ surface, Ralak stood proudly in the shallow end, arms crossed over his chest with a smile on his face. It was a rare occurrence – that smile.

And when you laid your eyes on such a sight, the butterflies flew back into your stomach, fluttering and flapping harder than they ever have. They soon became plenty in number, filling your stomach to the brim until you can no longer suppress the way you feel. The flutter in your stomach radiated throughout your body, sending your legs fluttering too. You swam quickly to him, surprising yourself with your speed.

--

“You did it. Like I said.” he smiles smugly.

“Hope you didn’t forget about our deal.” you grin, wringing out the water from your hair.

“You would not let me.” he scoffs, shaking his head as he uncrosses his arms. “Ready?” he asks, cocking a brow while his fingers glide down his stomach, finding purchase under the under the band of his loincloth.

“From the moment I saw it, karyu.” you say, voice feigned with confidence.

He could see through your disguise, though. It only makes him chuckle, to see such a little thing act so big – so dauntless. He tugs his loincloth down, taut strings now sinking into his upper thighs, revealing not only the entirety of his tattoo but also the base of his length.

“H-how did you manage to do that all on your own? Didn’t it hurt?” you ask sheepishly, voice laced with concern.

“Bottle of fermented fruit and a rag to bite. No pain.” he answers, Metkayina accent thick.

You examine it a little closer, leaning in to have a better look. It’s raised, very slightly – invisible to anyone not staring as intently as you are. Most definitely because it’s hand poked, by himself of all people. An innocent thought floods your mind, so loud that you couldn’t stop the movement of your own hand.

How does it feel?

“Can I –” you glance up at him briefly, hand hovering over the tattoo, “Can I touch it?”

His brows and ears shudder for just a few seconds. He quickly regains his composure, swallowing silently before giving you a single nod. Fingertips experimentally graze over the tattoo, taking in its bumpy texture. Your digits trace each line of his tattoo, down to his pelvis. A sudden jerk of his hips causes you to yank your hand back.

“S-sorry, Ralak.” you mumble, feeling a little ashamed that you may have made him uncomfortable.

But in all honesty, your innocent, little touches were arousing him and he didn’t want you to know. 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” he states, fixing his loincloth.

You straighten your spine, a foot stepping back to create space that you think he wants, only for him to pull you in for a hug.

“You did well today, vultsyìp.” he mumbles, hands resting on your head and back. “Tsurak [skimwing] next and you will be Metkayina.”

“Hmm. I’ll think about it.” you giggle, warm embrace and snarky commentary ebbing away whatever feelings of doubt tensing your chest.

It’s the way his huge arms engulf you that make you feel so protected and accepted. It’s something you always looked forward to after a big achievement. You lean into him, laying your head on his chest. The smell of sea salt mixed with leather hide wafts up your nose. You take a deep breath, holding it in your lungs until you feel light in the head. Releasing your breath with a loud huff, you smile widely.

It’s so enticing, so addictive.

“You always do that.” he chuckles breathily, swiping back a few strands of hair stuck to your temple.

“’ts not my fault you sea people smell so good.” you mumble into his chest, taking in another deep breath.

“Ah.” he exhales, hand cupping the back of your head. “My hì’i vultsyìp [little stick]” he almost grimaces at his words, it just wasn’t fitting anymore. Not for situations like these. Not when his chest feels so tight.

You lift your head and stare up at him with eyes of innocence. He looks down at you, ocean blue eyes searching yours. You’d never even noticed the little yellow ring around his pupils until now, how they shimmer when the light catches them just right. There’s an unspoken tension, thick in the air – so thick it makes you swallow the spit pooling in your cheeks. Your smile fades, lips parting as your breaths turn hot.

Eyes growing heavy, they almost close in anticipation that he might – just might – kiss you.

“Tanhì.” he mutters, eyes minutely shifting between each freckle on your forehead. He’s counts them, admiring how they embellish your supple, dark blue skin.

Your smile returns like it never left, except it’s wider – brighter. The last ray of sun shines through the sliver of a gap between your silhouettes, averting your attention to the oncoming eclipse.

“Thank you, karyu.” you whisper, reluctantly pulling away from his arms to make the trek back home.

“Tomorrow...” he watches your small figure shrink as you walk away. “...my tanhì.”

--

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if you were tagged and don't want to be just lmk :)

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Teen Villain Alliance Chapter 6

When Fenton had given Damian his task of attending classes and picking a team, he hadn’t expected to start enjoying it. 

Which was a miscalculation on Damian’s part. Damian had always enjoyed learning; his mother had been indulgent with what he learned as a child, sending tutors in everything that caught his interest, from art to world history to veterinary medicine. It wasn’t until his education in assassination began in earnest–around his 7th birthday–that his interests were stifled. And when he’d been sent to live with Father, it ground to a halt.

It took months for Father to deem him “tamed” enough to introduce him to the public, and even then he was  not allowed an education. While Damian was grateful that he wouldn’t endure public schooling, Father didn’t even allow tutors on the premises. Instead, Damian attended “online school” which consisted of video lectures and multiple choice quizzes on topics he’d covered years ago. In addition to the online school, he had daily lectures on “ethics” and “societal norms” from either Pennyworth or Grayson, neither of which were experts in the area. He’d asked. 

The TVA was different. Better, if he were honest, but he’d never admit it aloud. The teachers were ghosts, experts in their fields. Who else could say that they learned chemistry from Maria Skłodowska-Curie, or battle tactics from the first Amazonian, Pandora? The ghosts around him were not stuck in the past, nor apathetic to life on earth; instead, they kept learning, kept evolving, with a careful eye on the world outside the Infinite Realms. 

And despite himself, Damian even enjoyed having classmates. No class was large–most didn’t have more than 10 students per teacher–and many classes involved a debate aspect that allowed them to get to know each other. Just the other day, Damian had spent over an hour discussing the methods for creating a locked door murder with Shadowblade, a 14-year-old ninja from Japan. 

There was no competition, with the exception of combat classes. In the League, and at Wanye Manor, he was always competing. To be the best so he wouldn’t be replaced, to be strong to live up to the name of Al Ghul. Competing for Father’s attention, his approval, over the ingrates that make claims to a birthright that is not their own. With Grayson, Todd, Cain, Drake; each of them stronger, faster, better trained, better behaved. 

Trusted. 

Was it any wonder that Damian had jumped at the chance to prove himself?

Dr. Fenton–Danny, the man had insisted–trusted him. He wanted Damian to lead his team in the field. In his hand was a list of all the members he would work with, and the paper was tacky with sweat. Taking a deep breath, Damian knocked on the door to Fenton’s lab. 

After a few minutes, Fenton opened the door. He looked frazzled, hair astray and lab-coat half on. “Damian!” He said, smiling brightly. “I wasn’t expecting you, come in! I just reached a good stopping point for my latest project.” He invited Damian into the lab. “What can I help you with?”

Damian held out his list. “These are the four members of the TVA that I thought will work best as your infiltration squad.” He’d thought long and hard about who had the skills to join and, more importantly, who he could tolerate working directly under him. 

Fenton smiled. “That’s great! Have you started talking to them? Making friends?”

“...Some,” Damian decided on, thinking back to Shadowblade. “Everyone on that list has skills or abilities that would enable easy information gathering. I have yet to approach them though; I thought you’d prefer to determine if I’ve made the right choice.”

“Fantastic! I’ll give them to Jazz in a bit, see if there’ll be any conflicts. How’s everything going for you? Have you enjoyed all your classes?”

Damian nodded, but looked away. There was another reason why he was here. “May I… ask you something? I’ve encountered a conundrum that I could use advice for.”

“Of course! I’m always willing to ask. But if I may ask, why don’t you ask Jazz? She’s mentioned that she hasn’t seen you in her office once, and she gives fantastic advice.”

Damian made a face. “I see no reason to submit myself to brainwashing when I am already a loyal member of this organization. There’s no need for me to attend.”

Danny’s eyebrows rose. “Okay, we’ll come back to that eventually. But what’s bugging you, Damian?”

Damian swallowed. Suddenly, all the anger from the thought of therapy drained out of him and he sagged. “Is it… bad? That I am happier now than I was before?”

“What do you mean?” Danny asked, leading Damian over to a couch near the entrance of the lab. It was clearly a recreational space, with a gaming system in front of a TV. Damian sat beside him as he considered his words. 

“I… enjoy my time here. I like it more than I’ve liked anywhere else. And I should not. I shouldn’t be enjoying this life while leaving the people who raised me behind. My mother, my grandfather—this feels like a betrayal.” His father would be so disappointed in him if he learned how affected these villains made Damian. 

Danny’s face softened. He took in a deep breath, turning in his seat to face him. “I can understand that. Did something similar to my folks when I joined Phantom, you know.”

“...Really?” No one knew about the Wolves' pasts. Many of his fellows speculated, but no one knew for sure. The top theory for Fenton was that he was a mad scientist on the run from the government. 

“Yeah.” Danny nodded, glancing down for a moment before meeting Damian’s gaze. “When I was your age, I... betrayed my parents too. Not in the same way as you, but... my parents were ghost hunters. They spent their lives teaching me and my sister that ghosts were dangerous, evil. And for a long time, I believed them. But then they built a portal to the Ghost Zone, and ghosts starting coming through, and Phantom happened, and…” He looked away, swallowing. “I realized how wrong they were.”

He paused, gauging Damian’s reaction. The boy was listening, quiet but intense.

“I ended up siding with the very things they want to destroy,” Danny continued. “They want to indiscriminately massacre an entire species. They even co-authored a law that makes it legal to experiment and execute ghosts in American territory.” 

“What?” Damian couldn’t believe what he was saying. There couldn’t be a law that so blatantly breaks the Metahumans Protection Act, right? The Justice League–Father–would never stand for it. 

“It’s true,” Fenton said, as if to counter Damian’s thoughts. Damian boosted his mental shields just in case Fenton was a telepath. “There’s a whole government organization dedicated to ‘researching’ ghosts. Of course, they’re more interested in dissecting them.” Damian shuttered. “See? It’s clear that they’re in the wrong in this instance. That helps me some, when I keep thinking about how I betrayed my parents. But even knowing I was doing the right thing, it still hurts. Sometimes the people who are supposed to protect us and put us first end up hurting us the worst.”

Fenton placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “You’re a good kid. You’re so smart, and you have so much potential. But what your grandfather did to you was wrong. What your mother did was wrong. And you have every right to distance yourself from any situation where you feel unsafe.”

Damian looked away. “They were just trying to make me stronger,” he muttered. 

“Would you ever do what they did to someone else? Even to make them stronger?”

Damian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his mind swirling with memories of training, the endless demands for perfection, the blood on his hands. He thought about how much he had been shaped by the League, how much he had been forced to be something he hadn’t chosen. And then there was his father. He had felt so out of place, constantly trying to meet expectations he didn’t fully understand, let alone agree with.

“No,” Damian whispered, the answer clear. “I wouldn’t.”

“Then there’s your answer,” Danny said, smiling gently. “It doesn’t matter what they wanted for you. You’re not betraying them by living a better life or by choosing a path they wouldn’t have chosen for you.”

Damian stayed quiet for a moment, absorbing Danny’s words. A small weight lifted from his chest. He didn’t need to feel guilty for enjoying this life—this better life—away from the constant pressure of the League, or from the expectations of his father.

Danny leaned back again, folding his arms behind his head, the familiar goofy grin returning. “And hey, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing pretty awesome here. You kicked butt in those combat drills last week.”

Damian flushed, suddenly embarrassed. “You saw those?”

“Yup,” Danny popped his lips, grinning smugly. “Sam and Phantom are so jealous you’re on my team instead of theirs. They’re planning to poach you, but I trust that you’ll dismiss their bribes.”

A small, rare smile tugged at Damian’s lips.

[inkskinned]

i know some of the poets outside of their books, like cameron awkward-rich; who was my seminar teacher for a semester in grad school. you know him, he wrote about keeping his hand on the walls of his stupid heart. he gave us a journal without lines in it, so the pages were all blank and naked. we had to write down 3 words every day, ruminations on our own lives.

in pink glitter pen, i watched my handwriting cramp and spill from pristine and well-meaning to the slant of someone deeply suffering. the words stopped being lyrical over the course of february. bad, it said. bad and bad and bad. each day carving out a little bit of marrow, the sparrow of my heart acting as roadkill. that winter i was only allowed to eat apples, like a horse. my ocd had decided i could only touch food if it was red. i was sleeping on the floor and a spider bit me.

i wanted him to be my thesis advisor, but it was covid the next year, and we never spoke again, and i'm worried that i embarrassed myself by asking him repeatedly. for my final project in his class, i wrote about my disability. i called myself a rat, fondly.

his most famous poem is titled Meditations in an Emergency. i didn't know it until three weeks after i had graduated from that university.

at one point, he sat me down after class just to discuss some of my work. it was a night class, and we were all a little drowsy. he blinked up at me. i think sometimes the way you see the world is a little bit alarming. i wonder about that, in hindsight. i wonder if all of us who are walking on thumbtacks always recognize when someone else's spine is the undulating form of a siren. i could see it in him and you can see it in me, if you're looking.

yesterday nat said some of this is worrying.

i told cameron i was fine and i told nat i was fine, but i think maybe all of us had learned a long time ago how to be fine the way a poem is fine - because it happens outside of you. it can be honest, the confession, but it cannot be spelled out across your ribs. we make our art so that the sorrow can hang, limbless, trembling on the fetid walls beside us.

you learn to turn the ugliness into some kind of work, because you must smash the entire human experience of your stupid bones and teeth and tongue into something, so that you have anything to show for it. otherwise, what is the fucking point. why were you suffering, if not to polish the runoff and say - the melancholy is the signature of my art. i took the splinters out of my gums and filed them down into a thesis. the thesis has been turned into a book which is getting published.

cameron, to my knowledge, still has not read it.

i hope he has found his way out of the maze. i hope you and i one day write our own lanterns. i hope we are able to find some kind of peace without viscera. without having to fight for it. i hope we are able to stumble without falling. i hope one day the sky is empty of vultures and we can cross the desert of our memories without starving.

in the meantime we get up and leave the circled shadow in the writing.

[whatt-the]

Gift for @uno-san

College Stanford x milf reader

Content warnings: age gap obviously, stanford is a warning because I am tired of people pretending he isn't odd as hell, fem reader

Author's note: this takes place in an AU where Stanley never ruined ford's project and he got into his dream college. He is taken under the wing of an esteemed scientist, shenanigans (cheating on ur husband in a loveless marriage) ensue.

devious devious art about this coming soon! Both targeted and about the ambiguous "reader".

This is also only part 1 and there will definetly be more to come

Imagine how Stanford felt when first being invited to his mentor's house, after a particularly lengthy discussion on whatever topic the lecture his mentor gave happened to be about. I can imagine all sorts of emotions running through his mind... anxiety, excitement, a bit of shock- he knew he was smart, but he never thought his theories were reasonable enough to challenge his mentor's views: you see, he really idolized that man. Continuing their discussions would be an honor, and the mere mention of publishing multiple papers with him had stanford's mind racing, he could barely contain his joy!

Now, understand that he had plans for the unexpected visit: he'd prove his worth, his technical prowess, anything to get more of that sweet, sweet approval. We both know he didn't have much of that in his youth, neither did he get much of it now... it seems he is always the single oddest character in any given room, even amongst other well educated, motivated students. "Teacher's pet", "tryhard", he couldn't believe it at first- such childish insults at such an esteemed institution? He thought those got left behind in high school. How innocent he is. Regardless:

His plans were to prove himself.

Well, like I said, were.

Right now? His mind couldn't be further from his studies.

He'd made it to the house alongside the professor, the discussion now spanning multiple topics- he was having fun. Rare, considering any of his other interactions with quite literally anyone else.

(Truly the outcomes are deplorable. His social skills are lacking to an astronomical degree, to the point where it is borderline comical how little he knows about human interaction. It is a cliché, the nerd who doesn't know how to socialize, but it wouldn't be so popular of a trope if it didn't often get reflected in reality. Not like he knew it was very popular to begin with: even the claim that he learned to interact with others through books would be false, since he strayed from any sort of romantic narrative. It was out of a feeling of inadequacy, really.)

Then, the door was opened.

And that's when he met you for the first time.

"You! You're Stanford right? I've heard good things from my husband here-"

"Come on, don't flatter the kid yet." Your husband spoke with a chuckle

"Hey! He deserves to hear how good he's doing! Come here." You walked forward and hugged him, it was your way of greeting people. It was warmer and more welcoming- both things the world lacked severely.

(Stanford found himself paralyzed where he stood for a few moments. He'd already found your personality endearing -your appearence even moreso-, and now you're pressed up against him? He simply must be dreaming. You felt so soft against him-- heavens, how long had it been since he'd received a hug? Far too long, clearly, but he doesn't remember them ever feeling this good)

The societal pressure to reply to this action in some way caught up to him fast, however. He was quick to place a hand on your waist, his range of motion being limited from your arms wrapping around his own. He may experience the social pressure, but he really has no clue what's appropriate and what isn't, huh? Cute.

(Had he a modicum of self control, he'd most definetly have had a much more timely and well adjusted response to your touch, but amidst the smell of your perfume, your soft arms around him, your hair tickling against his face, the feeling of your hands on his back... nothing carried the same weight as your presence did, who could blame him for doing what his mind instructed him to do and touch you back somehow? He'll come to find that he will blame himself very much for this interaction. No one more judgemental on his behaviors than the one responsible for them)

Once you pulled back from him, you were quick to usher them inside and offer them snacks, reasoning that they'd deserved something nice after studying and debating so much on so many topics. Your husband eagerly agreed and impatiently waited for your food through busying himself by unearthing blueprints and all sorts of different research papers so there would be grounds for his and ford's endless theorizing.

And thus, as you left, Stanford was left with his own thoughts. He made note of the fact that those very same thoughts were entirely consumed by you: how you dressed, how you looked, how soft your hair was, how lovely your voice sounded; all things that brought him much joy to think about, but equal parts of shame. He didn't necessarily want to have any such invasive thoughts about his professor's wife, yet there he is, with his thoughts growing more wretched by the minute. It's almost like his brain was against him: guiding thoughts that had him blushing at the very visage into his mind's eye. He wanted your hands on his back again- he wanted you to drag your nails across it-- he wanted to feel your lips on his, he wanted to feel your breath grow shaky against him--

"Here it is!! Sorry for the wait"

Papers getting dropped on the table and a thankful sigh were the next things he heard. His professor turned to him, instructing him to sit at the table, since "if you don't come quick, there won't be any left for you!"

Your food was great, simply regarded as the usual to your husband, but seen as the world's 8th wonder by Stanford. When asked if he was enjoying the food, he quickly assured you that he was absolutely enjoying it, making sure to remark that it is "the best thing he's had since he entered college", which was not at all a lie, considering he was surviving off of microwaved cup noodles and the occasional granola bar- but even he knew that was too pathetic for him to mention at all.

Your husband and Stanford made quick work of the snacks and promptly got back to... spewing big pompous words and numbers at eachother... at least it seems they were having fun, considering they'd laugh toguether on occasion. That must be a good sign? You weren't entirely sure what was happening with those 2, and you took to not interrupting them in lest you break their chain of thought.

The afternoon went by in the blink of an eye to them. Discussions on various theories followed by reading research papers followed by sketching on blueprints followed by more reading research papers. It was their passion, it seems. However, ford was greatly saddened that it was already so late- he knew full well that if he stayed any longer he'd end up spending the night on your couch, so both him and his professor agreed that it was very much time for him to go back to campus snd consequently to the dorms.

Of course, that wasn't going to happen before he got to say goodbye to you. Even if he was embarrassed to look you in the eye after a full day of... various thoughts about you, he couldn't seem to get enough of your presence. Making his way towards the front door, you were the only one who accompanied him, since your husband was quite busy organizing the mess him and his pupil had created throughout the day.

As you stood at the doorway, you saw yourself growing quite sorrowful that he'd be leaving already, he was quite interesting to you. However, nothing could have prepared neither you nor him for what he did next. He turned around to face you once more, seemingly debating something in his mind for an instant. But, just as quickly as his uncertainty was noticed, it vanished, being replaced by a conviction and fervor he didn't expect from himself -his self control seemed to disappear when he was with you- .Thus, he gently took a hold of your hand and brought it up to his height, kissing the back of it lightly. You could feel your heart skip a beat; you hadn't experienced any such romantic gestures in... god knows how long. As he pulled back, you spoke.

"I-it was... lovely meeting you Stanford." You squeezed his hand as you took a step forward. As soon as he returned your sentiment, he was gone. Though, in the look you both shared during those brief moments, you both knew this wasn't going to be the last time he'd be in this house.

You'd both make sure of it.

Stanford's professor after ford practically begged to go back to his house again: "did you really like her cooking that much?"

Stanford, sweating profusely: "yeah.. her.. . Cooking......"

[burst-of-iridescent]

South Asian and Hindu Influences in ATLA (Part 2)

disclaimer: i was raised culturally and religiously hindu, and though i've tried to do my research for this post and pair it with my own cultural knowledge, i'm not an expert on hinduism by any means. should i mess up, please let me know.

please also be aware that many of the concepts discussed in this post overlap heavily with religions such as buddhism and jainism, which might have different interpretations and representations. as i'm not from those religions or cultures, i don't want to speak on them, but if anyone with that knowledge wishes to add on, please feel free.

Part 1

In the previous post, I discussed some of the things ATLA got right in its depictions of desi and hindu cultures. unfortunately, they also got plenty of things wrong - often in ways that leaned towards racist caricatures - so let's break them down, starting with...

Guru Pathik

both the word "guru" and name "pathik" come from sanskrit. pathik means "traveler" or "he who knows the way" while guru is a term for a guide or mentor, similar to a teacher.

gurus were responsible for the very first education systems in ancient india, setting up institutions called gurukuls. students, referred to as disciples, would often spend years living with and learning from their gurus in these gurukuls, studying vedic and buddhist texts, philosophy, music and even martial arts.

however, their learning was not limited merely to academic study, as gurus were also responsible for guiding the spiritual evolution of their disciples. it was common for disciples to meditate, practice yoga, fast for days or weeks, and complete mundane household chores every day in order to instill them with self-discipline and help them achieve enlightenment and spiritual awareness. the relationship between a guru and his disciple was considered a sacred, holy bond, far exceeding that of a mere teacher and student.

aang's training with guru pathik mirrors some of these elements. similar to real gurus, pathik takes on the role of aang's spiritual mentor. he guides aang in unblocking his chakras and mastering the avatar state through meditation, fasting, and self-reflection - all of which are practices that would have likely been encouraged in disciples by their gurus.

pathik's design also takes inspiration from sadhus, holy men who renounced their worldly ties to follow a path of spiritual discipline. the guru's simple, nondescript clothing and hair are reflective of the ascetic lifestyle sadhus are expected to lead, giving up material belongings and desires in order to achieve spiritual enlightenment and, ultimately, liberation from the reincarnation cycle.

unfortunately, this is where the respectful references end because everything else about guru pathik was insensitive at best and stereotypical at worst.

it is extremely distasteful that the guru speaks with an overexaggerated indian accent, even though the iranian-indian actor who plays him has a naturally british accent. why not just hire an actual indian voice actor if the intention was to make pathik sound authentic? besides, i doubt authenticity was the sole intention, given that the purposeful distortion of indian accents was a common racist trope played for comedy in early 2000s children's media (see: phineas and ferb, diary of a wimpy kid, jessie... the list goes on).

furthermore, while pathik is presented a wise and respected figure within this episode, his next (and last) appearance in the show is entirely the opposite.

in the episode nightmares and daydreams, pathik appears in aang's nightmare with six hands, holding what appears to be a veena (a classical indian music instrument). this references the iconography of the hindu deity Saraswati, the goddess of wisdom and knowledge. the embodiment of divine enlightenment, learning, insight and truth, Saraswati is a member of the Tridevi (the female version of the Trimurti), one of the most respected and revered goddesses in the Hindu pantheon... and her likeness is used for a cheap laugh on a character who's already treated as a caricature.

that's bad enough on its own, but when you consider that guru pathik is the only explicitly south asian coded character in the entire show, it's downright insulting. for a show that took so many of its foundational concepts from south asia and hinduism and yet provided almost no desi representation in return, this is just rubbing salt in the wound.

Chakras

"chakra", meaning "circle" or "wheel of life" in sanskrit, refers to sources of energy found in the human body. chakra points are aligned along the spine, with energy flowing from the lowest to the highest point. the energy pooled at the lowest chakra is called kundalini, and the aim is to release this energy to the highest chakra in order to achieve spiritual enlightenment and consciousness.

the number of chakras varies in different religions, with buddhism referencing five chakras while hinduism has seven. atla draws from the latter influence, so let's take a look at the seven chakras:

Muladhara (the Root Chakra). located at the base of the spine, this chakra deals with our basest instincts and is linked to the element of earth.

Swadhisthana (the Sacral Chakra). located just below the navel, this chakra deals with emotional intensity and pleasure and is linked to the element of water.

Manipura (the Solar Plexus Chakra). located in the stomach, this chakra deals with willpower and self-acceptance and is linked to the element of fire.

Anahata (the Heart Chakra). located in the heart, this chakra deals with love, compassion and forgiveness and is linked to the element of air. in the show, this chakra is blocked by aang's grief over the loss of the air nomads, which is a nice elemental allusion.

Vishudda (the Throat Chakra). located at the base of the throat, this chakra deals with communication and honesty and is linked to the fifth classical element of space. the show calls this the Sound Chakra, though i'm unsure where they got that from.

Ajna (the Third Eye Chakra). located in the centre of the forehead, this chakra deals with spirituality and insight and is also linked to the element of space. the show calls it the Light Chakra, which is fairly close.

Sahasrara (the Crown Chakra). located at the very top of the head, this chakra deals with pure cosmic consciousness and is also linked to the element of space. it makes perfect sense that this would be the final chakra aang has to unblock in order to connect with the avatar spirit, since the crown chakra is meant to be the point of communion with one's deepest, truest self.

the show follows these associations and descriptions almost verbatim, and does a good job linking the individual chakras to their associated struggles in aang's arc.

Cosmic Energy

the idea of chakras is associated with the concept of shakti, which refers to the life-giving energy that flows throughout the universe and within every individual.

the idea of shakti is a fundamentally unifying one, stating that all living beings are connected to one another and the universe through the cosmic energy that flows through us all. this philosophy is referenced both in the swamp episode and in guru pathik telling aang that the greatest illusion in the world is that of separation - after all, how can there be any real separation when every life is sustained by the same force?

this is also why aang needing to let go of katara did not, as he mistakenly assumed, mean he had to stop loving her. rather, the point of shedding earthly attachment is to allow one to become more attuned to shakti, both within oneself and others. ironically, in letting go of katara and allowing himself to commune with the divine energy of the universe instead, aang would have been more connected to her - not less.

The Avatar State

according to hinduism, there are five classical elements known as pancha bhuta that form the foundations of all creation: air, water, earth, fire, and space/atmosphere.

obviously, atla borrows this concept in making a world entirely based on the four classical elements. but looking at how the avatar spirit is portrayed as a giant version of aang suspended in mid-air, far above the earth, it's possible that this could reference the fifth liminal element of space as well.

admittedly this might be a bit of a reach, but personally i find it a neat piece of worldbuilding that could further explain the power of the avatar. compared to anyone else who might be able to master only one element, mastering all five means having control of every building block of the world. this would allow the avatar to be far more attuned to the spiritual energy within the universe - and themselves - as a result, setting in motion the endless cycle of death and rebirth that would connect their soul even across lifetimes.

[starrgaziinggg]

all I need is you

Hyunjin x reader, established relationship, fluff

-> 1.4k words

You almost don't notice the space beside you being filled. It had been hours, just staring at the city below you as the wind forced goosebumps to rise on your arms. Being alone had never bothered you much until today. Watching groups of friends gossiping around campus on your first day back only fuelled your desire to have a friend group of your own.

Girls you could talk about anything with. Guys that teased you lovingly. A firm body of people around you. It wasn't as though you'd never had friends, it was more so you couldn't find the place you naturally fit in. You were never any good at long term friendships, finding the forced nature of them disconcerting.

Hyunjin drops a hoodie on your lap before nestling in beside you, the make shift outdoor sofa you'd created one bored night being the only source of comfort on your rooftop. Until Hyunjin, of course. His warm aura brings you comfort even on your darkest days.

"Figured you'd be freezing to death up here," he chuckles, grabbing both of your hands in his to warm them. His freshly dyed black hair (a shame to you, since you'd loved the red, but his boss did not) blows into his face as he turns to give you a lopsided grin.

It's almost comical how at ease you feel now he's by your side, your feelings of loneliness evaporating almost instantly. He was a stroke of luck, Hyunjin, seemingly finding you when you needed him most. An art student, working long shifts in a local cafe to get by, who'd become a recluse voluntarily.

The bookstore you'd first met in was always desolate. You'd no idea how the small gem managed to stay afloat, since you were almost always the only person that bothered to give it time. It was one of your favourite places, the sole owner knowing you by name.

Six chapters into rereading your favourite book and there he was, nudging your foot with his as he flopped onto the beanbag beside you.

"Heaven, by Mieko Kawakami," he read aloud, tilting his head at you inquisitively. "Any good?"

A couple seconds after the shock of a gorgeous man interrupting your evening routine, you nod slowly.

"It's my favourite," you had replied in a small voice, confused as to why this god crafted human being was in a run down bookshop behind your apartment block, and why he was giving you the time of day.

"Tell me about it," he's said, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back, patiently waiting.

So you delved into a ramble about the basis of the book and why it meant so much to you, the premise of morality and why people do the things they do. And the whole time Hyunjin, as you'd come to discover his name, sat listening intently, nodding along without interrupting once.

When you'd concluded, realising you had been speaking much longer than you probably should have been, he raised his eyebrows.

"You know, I was never any good at English in school. I slept through every book analysis my dull ass English teacher ever attempted. And, I actually only came in here because it's one of the only stores in the area that has this art book I need, but I could probably listen to you talk about how to tie my own shoelaces and still be entranced."

The shellshock of Hyunjin's immediate interest in you took weeks to dissipate. You'd talked until the owner of the bookstore told you (lovingly) to beat it, and then some. The next day, you'd completed your summer university coursework in the cafe he worked at until his shift finished and then walked aimlessly around the area, never running out of topics to discuss.

And that was that. Within months you knew everything about each other. He took you to his favourite museum one day, explaining the intricacies behind every painting, and all you could do was watch him in awe. He walked you home, told you you were his favourite person in the universe, and kissed you because he meant it.

You'd never thought of yourself as a lucky person, but in that moment it was as though all your good karma had willed itself into existence.

"What's going on inside that head, pretty?" He says now, tilting your head up with his finger to meet his gaze.

"Nothing majorly substantial," you reply lazily, kissing his nose lightly and making him laugh. You tug on the jumper he'd brought you, a thick hoodie he'd bought recently, as he pulls an arm around your shoulders.

"Every thought you have is substantial," he says matter-of-factly, turning back to look at the view. The city noises dulled as he spoke, car horns and music white noise in the distance. "Even the ones about cats and why they're better than dogs."

"They are," you glare at him, which he just rolls his eyes at. You sit in silence for a couple minutes, enjoying his company as he traces circles on your bare legs absentmindedly. "How was your shift today?"

"Same old," he replies, pulling a hand through his disheveled hair. "You should come in after your classes tomorrow, sit with me behind the counter."

"You're lucky your boss likes you," you chuckle, bumping his shoulder lightly with yours. "I'm there every other day."

"Chan doesn't care," Hyunjin assures with a smile. "He likes you. He actually invited you along to our work night out next weekend."

"He did?" You ask, your attention piquing.

Hyunjin hums in response. "Yeah, but it will be a whole lot of Riki terrorising everyone and risking getting himself fired," he laughs. "That kid is a menace."

"Do you want me to come?" You ask sincerely, doe eyes blinking up at the man you were wholeheartedly in love with. He looks back at you with such adoration your heart physically swells in your chest.

"Of course," he answers instantly, his brows furrowed. "Everyone I work with probably likes you more than they like me. In fact, they've stated it more than once. Plus, I'd get to show off my pretty girlfriend, and I need you for morale support against Riki."

The grin appears of your face quicker than lightening as you nestle your head into Hyunjin's shoulder.

"Sometimes I think I'm the luckiest girl in the world to have you in my life, you know," you mumble. "I don't know what I ever did to deserve you."

You feel Hyunjin shake his head above you, before reaching for your face with both hands and making you stare at him.

"You're perfect, love," he smiles, rubbing his thumb against your cold cheek. "You can be a stubborn thing, but I love you for it. If you could see yourself through my eyes you'd understand why I'm so infatuated with you."

You can't help but to roll your eyes, a natural instinct to any compliment you receive. He shakes you gently as you laugh, as if attempting to rid you of all your negative thoughts.

"Now, get your ass inside your apartment. It's fucking freezing out here, and I'm shattered," he groans, standing up and pulling you along with him.

"You're staying over?" You ask excitedly, knowing he was going to classes early in the morning.

"Duh," he says sassily, leading you through the fire escape after intertwining your hand with his own. "I missed you like crazy at work today. Chan's new no phone rule is kicking my ass and I need a cuddle."

You laugh, following him down the stairs in your apartment building like a puppy. "You're cute today."

"I'm cute everyday," he counters, turning to tilt his head at you. You stop for a second, just staring down at him.

"I love you, you know?" You say, as if he's not already aware of how deep your feelings run for him. He just grins back at you, tugging you down the stairs and into his embrace.

“I love you too, angel,” he replies whilst wrapping his arms tightly around you.

Maybe you would never have the amount of friends you’d always desired. Maybe those deep rooted feelings of loneliness would never fully dissipate. But with Hyunjin by your side, you felt as though you didn’t need anything more.

I wrote this last night and wasn’t going to post it but I think it’s cute so here you go :) sorry for the inactivity, I am swamped rn but I’m trying my best!

[turnaboutfix]

Oh yes of course!!!

I meant specifically like her very early concept art (blue haired) and like, one of the first ones where she has short hair (but still with those 2 loose locks at the front)? I hope you know which one I'm talking about lolol

BUT if you wanna speak your thoughts on like. All of them. I want to hear 👂❓️

( @ellivcca asked what I thought about Maya's concept art and I replied in priv if they could be more specific)

Let's talk about Maya's designs! ✨

I will skip the blue-haired art for now, since I have more to say about her other early designs. They're in a few Japanese AA Guidebooks, but "逆転裁判2 真相解明マニュアル", or "Gyakuten Saiban 2: Fact-Finding Manual" has the most in one place. There are blurbs that discuss the designs, and I'll do my best to summarize them. My Japanese isn't amazing and I had to mostly rely on machine translation + cross referencing dictionaries, so it's possible I may be inaccurate. Also, I'm a novice at Japanese culture, so if I'm misrepresenting anything please bring this to my attention and I'll correct things accordingly!

The book acknowledges that Maya was intended to be of high-school age, hence the the sailor suit artwork. They seem to suggest that the loose socks was a hint at Maya's spunky personality.

When they began to explore her as a spirit medium (1), they wanted her to come from a wealthy, noble family. It looks like a lot of these explorations made it to Franziska's design, with some of the shapes of the shoulders and the jabot-looking neck wear, which is interesting!

As they kept exploring in the second round of sketches (2), they stressed traditional/folk dress as being an important part of her design. They noted they had her carrying something on her back at the time, which I think hints more to her "folksy" feel.

The beaded necklace she's wearing in (2) are drawn from Mala bead necklaces, which are prayer beads rooted in Hinduism and Buddhism and are said to help focus the mind during meditation. They seem present in a lot of spiritual figures in Japan.

Later (3), they explicitly comment drawing inspiration from the Matagi, a group of hunting clans in the northern Japanese mountains (be careful looking them up, they do bear hunting and there's a lot of explicit imagery, even on the wikipedia).

They comment on that this version of her early character might be very athletic. She also seems to be more stoic in these explorations.

Then, for (4) and (5), they evolved the design to make it look appear more feminine, giving her long hair, but making a note that her look isn't typical of modern people. The large orbs in (3), (4) and (5) I think are supposed be drawn from "Yuigesa"(結袈裟), or harnesses decorated with pom-poms worn by Shugendō practitioners, hermits who live in the mountains and practice asceticism.

Then in (6), they added the magatama and committed to her having black hair. They note shortening the hem of her costume from design (5).

The magatama addition is pretty significant! Magatama necklaces are used by noro priestesses of the Ryukyu Kingdom from the islands in the very south of Japan.

Their religion broadly speaking, involves ancestor worship and the relationships between the living and dead, gods and spirits. It seems to me like the culture in Kurain Village draws a lot from the Ryukyuan people--and you can even see this with the beads along with the magatamas.

But there seems to be a lot of generic imagery of Spirit Mediums that I've been able to find in Japanese media which have shared elements of design in Maya's final design. The most interesting of these to me is "ほんとにあった!霊媒先生", or "It Really Happened! Spirit Medium Teacher". The design similarities are striking (and make me wonder if Maya was an inspiration?)

So, to summarize it all up, it seems like the early designers (and there were only two! Kumiko Suekane and Tatsuro Iwamoto) wanted a character who was different, folksy, feminine and spunky that displayed unique spiritual power to aid in the narrative/game mechanics of the games, and they explored the different facets of their own culture--from the northern Matagi clans to the southern Ryukyuan people--Japanese iconography, and tastes into Maya's final design.

And I think that's Real Neat. :)

Thoughts about other designs (Blue-Haired/SoJ Maya) under the cut cuz oh my gosh this post is already huge.

Blue haired Maya!

What's interesting to me is that a lot of the design language on this early Maya art seems to have been carried over to Ema's design (glasses, boots, coat/skirt). She also has similar vibes to Lynne from Ghost Trick.

I definitely enjoy Maya's final design a lot better, but I like the triadic color harmony and spunk here!

And then her design update in Spirit of Justice! These concepts are from "逆転裁判6 公式ビジュアルブック", or "Gyakuten Saiban 6: Official Visual Book". :)

Takuro Fuse (the character designer) comments that he never drew Maya before when he took a stab at updating her, so he wanted to get that down first before tackling the designs. He wondered how she would change over the course of 11 years, and first experimented with a design, thinking about how Mia would look like as a spirit medium. He thought it would be interesting if Phoenix wouldn't be able to tell if Maya channeled Mia. (Me too tbh.)

I feel like this design has a bit too much going on, but I do like the longer cream colored sleeves!

Takuro talks more about how he was exploring all sorts of designs before landing on something more simple. He wanted her to have what he called a "traveling costume" and was very fond of the hat. These designs seem to pull from similar places I've discussed with Maya's early designs, as well as Japanese pilgrims.

As fun as the additions and changes to her design are, I think it was very smart to just add subtle changes: the longer robes, jacket, and the additional beads to her necklace. The shawl is a nice touch, too. This reflects how post-7yg Phoenix and Edgeworth also have subtle changes to their designs as well, which I love and I think were very smart moves from a design-perspective as well as personal taste. Their designs are very iconic and I think it was a service to maintain that iconography.

This was a very fun thing to explore! Thank you kindly @ellivcca for the ask!

[tojiscrack]

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋

summary: 22.8k words — it’s a change of scenery, change of friends, and even a change of dynamics. you and megumi go through all of middle school together.

notes: popping this one out at 4am where i live. you bitches better be GRATEFUL after begging for this update 0-0 the next update, before anyone asks, is probably going to take even LONGER bc i have to focus on my levi fic. don’t give me that look — that hasn’t been updated since november 😧

tw: swearing (like, once, i believe).

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

2014-2015 sixth grade

'the day's nearly over' you reminded yourself over and over again as you walked down the unfamiliar hallways.

they told you that middle school was different, but nobody warned you about how independent you'd have to be from here on out. you found yourself comparing nearly everything to elementary school, which you were comfortably attending not even six weeks ago. you did not think you'd prefer elementary school, especially not with the monster of a teacher that you were blessed with for two years in a row, but when you found that you didn't share every single class of yours with megumi, you grew more and more disappointed.

you only shared four out of the eight classes you had in a day with him. it didn't help that you ended up picking theatre and he ended up picking art.

so you found yourself walking down the long hallway and taking the first left where you knew the theatre area was (curtesy of the open days you'd attended during the fifth grade) with the comforting conversation you'd had with your mom before she dropped you off at school in the morning.

during the summer, over on friday night dinner at satoru's place (the usual), it had been vaguely discussed how you and megumi would now be able to walk yourselves to your new school without the suffocating presence of one (or even both) of your parents. the excitement of it all came with the thought of starting an entirely new school, though it faded after the familiarity of your normal routine — where your mothers dropped you off with kisses and lots of smiles — changed completely the second your foot crossed over the line that indicated school grounds.

for the first day, your parents insisted on dropping all of you off (uncle ogi included, even though it was only maki and mai's second year here) and before you could follow your friends past the school gate, your mom had rubbed your back soothingly, as if she knew something you didn't.

you realised what it was now — a big change. though it wasn't entirely unpleasant, you just weren't too used to it.

at the end of the corridor, outside of the theatre hall, you could see people going in and out, movement very clear from where you were standing. however, the closer you got, the two stagnant figures at the end if the hall became more clear to you: a boy about your height and a girl taller than the both of you.

you weren't an eavesdropper (in most circumstances) but here, you could tell that there was some uncomfortable tension surrounding the two of them, so you paid attention as you leaned against the wall. you had time till your lesson started, you figured that you could use the spare time for something juicy.

"sorry, no... i don't really know who you are," the girl spoke, her voice soft as silk as she adjusted the singular strap of her bag over her shoulder.

immediately, you became well aware of what was occurring before you — the guy was asking the girl out. and it seemed that, judging from the girl's delicate response, they had only just met.

expecting the boy to back off and leave, you averted your attention to the display board hanging on the opposite wall, showcasing several plays that the school had their theatre students successfully perform. however, even as you found yourself immersed in the talent that was presented in polaroids and printed images, your ears could not block out the heated argument that the boy had then started.

"i never wanted to be with you anyways," he began, expression feral by the time you'd turned your head to see it. "you're a bitch, and you're never gonna get asked out again. i only did it because i felt sorry for you."

your brows had already knitted themselves together as you watched the boy go on a tangent with his displeasure on getting rejected. you silently examined for the next couple of seconds to see if the girl would defend herself, throw in a few casual responses as well, maybe, but when the slightly busy corridor only echoed the conversations of the ignorant teens walking by as if nothing major was happening, you knew she was too polite to say anything.

he opened his nasty mouth once more — perhaps to spew more venomous lies and pointless insults — but was cut off by your cruel intervention.

"look who's talking, with a mouth like yours, that underbite's making it difficult for me to see if you're a camel or human."

you imitated his underbite, jutting out your bottom teeth in a rather aggressive manner. and you weren't done there — you raised a gentle hand over the girl in a hesitant manner, a silent question as to whether you had permission to touch her. when the girl nodded ever so slightly, you continued with your theatrics.

"go out with me," you cried, underbite still exaggeratively visible. "otherwise no one else will!"

"neanderthal-looking motherfucker," a pretty, dark-haired girl added swiftly. you looked over your shoulder, following the sound of the confident voice. she was standing behind the three of you, apparently attentive to what had been happening before her.

you grinned, turning back to the dumbfounded boy once more. "yeah, clear example of failed evolution, guys."

it seemed that the boy had had enough, turning away and scoffing to himself as he pulled up his loose pants and stomped off, fuming. you half expected smoke to flow out of his ears, surprised when he silently disappeared without commotion.

"i hate guys," the short-haired helper commented casually, eyes still focused on the end of the corridor where he'd last been seen by the three of you.

you nodded. "me too."

"thank you so much," the other girl said with a smile, looking more relieved than ever. her blonde hair, which was already tied back in a low ponytail, was tangled between her pale fingers. maybe it was a nervous tic. "he's in my math class, he tried talking to me there too."

"ugh, forget him, you're literally so gorgeous," the fiercer one of the two girls replied with a sigh. "anyway, are you two here for theatre?"

"oh, no, not me," the other girl responded, her pale cheeks now dusted with a light pink. it had been, no doubt, due to the compliment she received. she shook her head. "i left my bag over here so i had to come back and get it, but i'll see you guys around — i'm kat, short for katie."

"y/n," you introduced yourself with a smile.

"i'm nobara," said the dark haired girl.

the pleasantries and small conversations did not last long, for kat had to run off after a short while, hurriedly explaining to you and nobara that her next lesson was in the complete opposite side of the building. the two of you waved off her apology as she scrambled to secure her bag over her shoulder and run off mid-conversation, reassuring her that she was fine and she had nothing to worry about.

when it was just you and nobara left, and she didn't make a move to leave, you knew she was in the same theatre class.

"i don't swear often," she told you, as the both of you made your way into the theatre hall.

immediately, your vision blanked, unable to see through the complete darkness and lack of light. at first, you almost believed that you made it to the wrong room, but after hearing whispers from your other supposed classmates wondering the same (only aloud) you knew you couldn't have gotten it wrong.

nobara seemed unfazed as she continued her incomplete sentence:

"— but guys really irritate me."

you nodded, and then mentally slapped yourself when you remembered that she couldn't see you — unless she had some weird type of supernatural night vision. you almost laughed at that: if megumi were here, he'd complain about abilities as such being 'not real'.

the lights switched on suddenly, blinding you and the rest of your classmates momentarily. you shut your eyes immediately, face scrunched in distaste at the foolish decision made by whoever had turned the lights on without a simple warning.

by the time you opened your eyes, you found who the culprit was — your (apparently dramatic) and first ever theatre teacher: mr white. he was a lanky old man with a bent posture and thin, rectangle glasses that sat on the bridge of his pointy nose.

"don't let him hear you say that," you muttered with a unsuccessful attempt to hide your smile as he introduced himself with a voice way too loud for this late in the day. "he looks like a scientist."

"he's a theatre teacher," nobara pointed out with a raised brow.

"but he looks like a mad scientist," you continued stubbornly.

nobara regarded you with a look of oddity and for a moment, you were afraid that it'd be a whole new situation where she'd snitch on you for saying such a thing (it had happened back at elementary before; that was a story for another time), but she proved you wrong when her face broke out in a grin, not tight to show that it was forced, and not too expressive to show that it was fake.

"i see it," she agreed with a laugh. "good eye!"

and without even realising it, as the two of you sat together by the cinema-like seats and compared your timetables with one another (you shared six out of eight classes with her!), you had made your first new friend other than megumi.

bonus point: she's a girl!

maybe middle school wasn't so bad. especially not when you and nobara had become mr white's favourite to use as demonstrations for the lesson ("...see? for example, let's say... you, what's your name? y/n? lovely! let's say y/n here had to do a performance. she wouldn't be able to say no even if she hated it because that's professio— huh? you would say no? oh... that's bold. oh, did you day something? what's your name? nobara — okay, well the thing is, you can't just refuse to work with men all the time — no you can't hit them if they tell you that you have to, girls").

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

you let out a gasp of shock when megumi and another pink-haired boy approached you and nobara by the lockers. the final lesson on both of your timetables was physical education, which nobara had audibly expressed that she absolutely detested. you weren't bad at sports at all — in fact, you were rather good at things like gymnastics, basketball and dodgeball if you really tried, but physical education as a lesson?

you never took it seriously.

you were sure that during elementary school, you'd cost your team a game because you completely stood still and examined your nails when one of your teammates wanted to pass the ball to you.

but while nobara's concerns were about the next lesson she was dreading, yours were about the two boys approaching you, particularly the bright-eyed, tall, pink-haired one.

pink hair? you thought to yourself with a grimace. what a weirdo.

you could not find it in yourself to believe that megumi fushiguro, ever the stoic and heartless one, made friends with a (you assumed was friendly) pink-haired guy. your mind had to put extra emphasis on the pink-haired part of his description. surely he hadn't actually wanted to dye his hair pink? surely it must've been an accident that just so happened to have occurred just before the first day of middle school — quite like how you and uncle ogi accidentally dyed one half of mai's hair blue while the other remained pink at some point during fourth grade...

but with the way the boy carried himself, his hands casually resting in his pockets as he walked down the hallway with megumi, an unwavering smile plastered over his gentle face, you were under the assumption that the result of his hair was no accident.

weird.

megumi acknowledged you with raised brows the moment he came within hearing distance of you. he barely acknowledged nobara, whose brows had furrowed in a skeptical manner when it became clear that yes, megumi and his friend were indeed approaching you.

"what's your next class?" said megumi, sounding gloomier than usual. perhaps he'd been having the same thoughts about starting a new school as you had — everyone knew that megumi hated change.

the boy next to him raised a hand and waved. you turned back to your childhood friend with narrowed eyes.

"first of all, it's p.e," you said hurriedly, the sound of nobara closing her locker echoing around the halls. people were starting to come out of their classes, heading to their next one. "secondly, did you just replace me?"

megumi released a small exhale through his nose to show his disbelief at your question. through half-lidded eyes, he averted his gaze from you to nobara, scowling. it was clear what he was indicating, and you weren't very impressed with his silent words.

"this is nobara and she's actually better than you, so..." you introduced her without even looking at her.

megumi's pink-haired companion spoke up just after you.

"i'm yuji," he said helpfully, the smile still present on his face despite your very loud claim of megumi having betrayed you by apparently 'replacing' you with this yuji.

yuji... the name fit, somehow.

"megumi," the messy-haired boy replied, barely smiling or making an attempt to seem welcoming at all.

nobara leaned in towards you, uncaring of whether the two boys noticed or not.

"he looks like he used to pick his boogers and eat them," she whispered, her chin lifting to gesture at yuji. before you could put your input on that, her gaze shifted back to megumi. "and he looks entitled — didn't even start with 'i'm' or 'my name is'. you're seriously friends with this guy?"

"oh that's just what megumi does. he's just angry at life for no reason, you'll get used to it!" you clarified brightly.

megumi did not like that. he raised his pale hand to flick your forehead, and you were so invested in making fun of him, you hadn't realised that he was aiming to do it until you felt the harsh sting of the attack just after he'd dropped his hand back to his side.

"ouch!" you hissed, rubbing your forehead and glaring at him. "why did you do that porcupine? i was gonna introduce myself to yuji!"

"don't bother," he responded, teeth gritted as your loose tongue slipped out the embarrassing nickname you'd made for him. "already told him your name —"

"porcupine?" repeated yuji, only further agitating megumi, who had a clenched jaw now. he faced up at your mutual friend — yuji was about the same height as you, and megumi had grown slightly over the summer so it grew a little more difficult to be able to see the the entire surface area of his messy hair as easily as you once used to. but yuji had decided that he'd seen enough when he let out a boisterous laugh. "hey, i see it! you look like a porcupine!"

as you and nobara laughed at the expression on megumi's face, yuji continued to explain what he'd meant, even as megumi glared at him with enough intensity to potentially kill.

"'cause... 'cause your hair —"

"i get it," he snapped, effectively ending the open-day-on-megumi-fushiguro.

"i like you y/n," said yuji, shortly after.

you beamed. "i like me too!"

megumi watched the interaction before him, his mind immediately figuring out a way to piss you off the same way you managed to piss him off. after knowing you for so long, and going through thick and thin with each other, it wasn't hard for megumi to plunge his hand into the pit in his mind where his witty responses remained, and pull something out to at least render you the slightest bit speechless (his record timing of keeping you silent with embarrassment had been five seconds).

"so do we all have p.e then?" nobara questioned, seemingly accepting the fact that megumi and yuji were going to be with you for the rest of your time here at middle school. it didn't mean that she was necessarily pleased, however, but she did like you and would remain friends with you even if it meant having to be around the two boys.

"yeah, but we're not in the same classes," you said, defeated. "nobara and i are though!"

"are we in their class?" yuji cluelessly asked megumi.

the aloof boy shrugged. "i don't know, ask the mermaid."

time stopped for you.

"the mermaid?" both yuji and nobara repeated with confusion.

there was ringing in both your ears, forcing you to grow less and less attentive of the bewilderment surrounding your two new friends. something in your stomach was wiggling, encouraging you to bend over and release the contents of that morning's breakfast down, eyes narrowing to prevent it all. your jaw had become less tense, slowly dropping to allow your soft lips to form an 'o', your expression softening all the while. your vision grew blurry, not through tears, no, but through the growing heat beneath your skin all over your body. you unknowingly clenched your fists, nails digging into the ends of your palms to form half-moon crescents into your smooth skin.

you had never felt such rage course through your body — your soul, even — in the eleven years of life that you'd been living. it didn't come as a surprise to you that megumi would be the reason, but you'd hoped that out of everything he could have said to anyone in the future, it would be anything but that.

his voice echoed in your mind even though you could clearly see his lips remained unmoving.

'i don't know, ask the mermaid...'

'(...) know, ask the mermaid...'

'ask the mermaid...'

'(...) the mermaid...'

'(...) mermaid...'

mermaid.

the scene before you had flashed before your eyes, the embarrassment you'd felt at the end of the day when you'd later failed to convince everyone that you just so happened to be a mermaid.

the shame brought upon you during the family dinner that week, and how easily it was for everyone to make fun of you when usually, it was always you that managed to poke fun at someone.

"megumi fushiguro," you started slowly, cutting through yuji's random theory about what 'mermaid' could have possibly meant. the traitor you were addressing raised a brow at you expectantly. "how dare you."

before he could open his mouth and retort, (nobara began talking: "what are you— oh!") you stepped forward and pulled his hair, your ultimate move as he gripped your wrist tightly, one eye shut and one eye open in pain. you didn't stop there, raising your leg to kick him in the knee. you shoved him away, dusting yourself off as if you'd touched the dirtiest thing the world had to offer.

he regained his composure easily, glaring at you throughout it all.

"ouch," he said, face straight and firm.

nobara gave him a look of disgust, everyone collectively ignoring yuji's difficulty in standing up straight to stop himself from laughing (megumi slapped his hand off of his shoulder when he attempted to use it as a grip).

you threw your chin in the air with a look of something between victory and annoyance.

"don't embarrass me in front of nobara ever again."

nobara would have laughed at that, but she was too occupied with her absolute discontent towards megumi and his reaction to your attack.

"why are you acting like that didn't hurt?" she demanded fiercely.

megumi shrugged, his hands still planted casually in the pockets of his school pants.

"seriously, how are you friends with this guy?" she then asked you, regarding your moody friend with a look of contempt.

"after this? we're not friends," you declared. but your decision hadn't lasted even five seconds before you stared up at him with disbelief. "megumi, where's your friendship bracelet?"

he looked down at his empty wrist. "i took it off."

"oh — oh, i see how it is," you snapped, taking nobara's hand and stomping away.

the boys watched you walk off, megumi looking exhausted and yuji sporting a wide smile. you were glad nobara did not put up any resistance in being dragged away. in fact, she seemed to be pushing further so she could take the lead instead.

"you'll never — see this face — again!" you called out over your shoulder.

for the brief moment you caught each other's gazes, you were submerged in a moment of betrayal when he did not seem the slightest bit upset. megumi merely stared back at you, deadpanned, the further you walked.

"we're going the same way," he brutally commented.

you hated that he was always right. would it kill him to be wrong just for a bit? if only to save yourself from the embarrassment once again?

"i know."

you hadn't. you'd forgotten.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

physical education felt like you'd joined the military here in middle school — why hadn't maki warned you of that? though arguably, when you and mai had spoken about starting the school, she'd mentioned how difficult it would be, and how maki was such a loser that she took this course incredibly serious.

you weren't bad at sports at all. in fact, you enjoyed it. the annual family football game meant that you had to enjoy it because it was a necessity — you remembered how mai found it super difficult to keep up with everyone else just because her interests lied elsewhere. winning was very important to you, so you always opted to choose mai last whenever you ended up being captain of your team.

that being said, all of that wouldn't be believable if anyone saw the stance you were taking now at the dodgeball game coach yaga (a broad, angry man with flattened hair and sunglasses who seemed to dislike you the most) had organised for you all.

though your timetables had made it extremely crystal clear that you and nobara were not in the same class as megumi and yuji were for p.e, coach yaga had all the classes merge for the first lesson ever to play one massive round of dodgeball. you were pleased to find that the four of you were all on the same team, though the coach began to slowly regret his choice, particularly when the first round had started and he'd finally, properly met you, y/n l/n.

the second his whistle went off, every single person in your team (and the one across you) dashed forward to grab at the balls lined in the centre of the field. everyone except from you.

see, you had stayed back and admired the grass beneath your sneakers, fond at how vibrant the green was. the coach was shouting at someone, and perhaps you should have paid attention to who, especially when you saw him glaring in your direction. you looked back, as if trying to see if he was shouting at someone behind you, only to be met with the empty air of space. you turned, raising your brows as you placed your pointer finger on your chest and mouthed a startled 'me?'.

"YES, YOU!" he'd bellowed, arms outstretched in disbelief. "WHO ELSE?"

you looked around, indeed trying to find who else and only growing distracted with how impressed you were at yuji's speed since he'd been the first out of both teams to reach the line of balls and take them.

"go yuji!" you cheered joyfully. "i've got your back —" you announced proudly, and when you tried moving forward to help, a ball missed you by two inches. you stepped back again. "... from right here!"

"what the hell are you, a cheerleader?" coach yaga demanded. "GET ON THE FIELD!"

"i am!" you argued back, gesturing to where you were standing which, indeed, was on the field.

you were growing very frustrated with whoever this damn coach was. the first time he'd yelled at you, you let it slide. now, however, you were starting to get annoyed.

"GET ON THE —" he started, turning away and sighing when two of your teammates had been hit below the waist. "YOU — WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"

oh this is bad, you thought to yourself in fear. the very last thing you needed was a phone call home to your mom on your literal first day of a whole new school. you did not want a repeat of elementary school, but you could see the way coach yaga was glaring at you. it was almost similar to the way mrs davis — your fifth grade teacher — would stare at you: a menacing expression, made to intimidate you, no doubt.

you looked around, trying to formulate a plan in your head. the smartest idea was most likely to simply participate, but with how serious everyone seemed (some blonde dude from the other team literally screamed at another guy for not catching the ball) you had no desire to be apart of it all.

you turned back to coach yaga when he continued to demand your name.

"it's — it's megumi," you lied, mindful of the fact that megumi was at the front of the field, participating with such ease — the importance of that was to make sure that he hadn't heard you: he'd definitely tell the coach the truth instead (especially because your lie was at his expense).

the coach seemed skeptical, raising a brow at you and pushing his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose. you noticed how his hands were slightly more tanned than his face.

"you don't look like a megumi," he said, as he pointed at another student to silently tell them that they were out.

you did not know what to do then. how else were you supposed to convince him that your name was megumi? perhaps you could grow defensive... make him feel guilty for criticising your fake-name? no, you thought wisely, that would attract attention from megumi.

but it seemed that for the first time ever, luck was on your side — for coach yaga had grumbled under his breath, and through the loud yells of your fellow classmates, you heard each and every word he uttered.

"but i remember a megumi from the register..." he looked up at you again. "right. go and help your team!"

your head slowly turned to your fellow teammates, all of whom were working diligently to secure themselves a win. you drew back — dodgeball is never that serious. they were acting like their lives were on the line.

"um — i'm fine over here, actually," you giggled, muttering out a small 'ooh' whilst also flinching at the sight of nobara purposely aiming for that same tall, angry dude on the other team; she managed to hit him successfully.

"that wasn't an option," he spoke, his voice growing in volume with each word, until finally... "GO HELP YOUR TEAM, MEGUMI!"

megumi, who had quite literally just done exactly that by managing to take out the most competitive player of the other team, turned his head at the scolding he'd apparently received.

you had to hold back a laugh, puffing out your cheeks with the breath of air you'd held in to help with that. you were somewhat grateful for yaga's glasses as they made it difficult to see who he was looking at.

megumi, confused at the random scolding he received (one he firmly believed he did not deserve when that blonde girl on his left could barely throw at a proper distance), straightened up and turned his attention back to the game, catching a ball that had been thrown at him and ultimately leaving said-thrower out of the game.

meanwhile, you actually took several tentative steps forward, noticing a ball rolling at your feet. bending down, you picked it up and examined it for a moment. you raised it high, ready to throw it...

— to your teammate because you had no actual intention of participating in this inhumane sport ever.

coach yaga clearly did not like that:

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, MEGUMI?"

the actual megumi turned his head to glare at the coach, who looked extremely irate. megumi did not understand — what was he doing wrong? why on earth was this man distracting him from playing for his team? was he purposely being biased, distracting him for no reason to allow the other team to secure a win?

he was growing angrier for every second yaga continued to scold him for doing the exact thing he kept saying megumi wasn't doing: catching the ball? he'd done it thrice. throwing the ball? he just did. participating? what the hell was he doing the entire game then, if not participating?

all the while, you had to turn away and place a hand over your mouth, your chest heaving every time coach yaga yelled at you and referred to you as megumi. it only grew more difficult to hold back a laugh, particularly when megumi would stand up and glare at the coach.

you somehow ended up in the middle of your team's side of the field, which was not what you wanted at all. but before you could turn and walk back to what you claimed as your designated spot at the very back of the field, you noticed your shoelace untied.

"oh!" you said, hearing coach yaga yell 'your' name as you bent down to tie your laces together again.

unbeknownst to you, when you'd ducked to do your laces, a ball had been thrown, and while it was meant for you, your action had allowed it to fly over you and hit another player who just so happened to have been standing behind you.

that must've been it for coach yaga, because at that time, he'd yelled at you louder than you'd ever heard him do so in the past fifteen minutes.

"MEGUMI, WHY DIDN'T YOU CATCH THAT BALL?" he bellowed, his grip on his whistle tightening so much, you could see his veins bulging. "YOU COST YOUR TEAM A PLAYER!"

the look on megumi's face was outrageous: his brows were furrowed so much that some of his forehead (that was usually mostly concealed by his fluffy hair) was slowly starting to show as he swiped a warm hand across his face in both exhaustion and irritation. he was now under the impression that coach yaga either picked on him for the sake of it, or that he was simply blind. it would explain the sunglasses he wore indoors.

megumi then unconsciously came up with the counterargument that satoru did the same, though he easily countered it with the fact that the white-haired male was simply foolish and incompetent.

megumi truly believed that, unlike satoru, yaga wasn't foolish or incompetent. he liked his strict nature. initially.

now, however, megumi was slowly growing to hate the man for spewing up lies about things that megumi had apparently done (when did he run away from an incoming ball?).

so being accused of costing a team a player when he'd indeed caught a ball and gave the team back a player was where he had to put his foot down. enough was enough.

"i didn't!" he snapped, yaga's head tilting and brows furrowing menacingly. megumi could have sworn that he also looked challenged, in a sense.

yaga let out a noise, something between a scoff and a gasp. he seemed almost confused.

"who are you, boy?"

megumi glowered. "megumi."

you watched the conversation playing out before you, watched as someone caught a ball that had been flying towards megumi's distracted figure, watched as yuji apologised to a girl he'd taken out of the game, watched as your plan deteriorated before you.

you had two options:

you could go ahead and distract coach yaga, turn his attention back to you and make him completely forget that a random, angry boy just lied about his name being yours... or, you could stand back and enjoy the show. after all, it was rather amusing, and you didn't actually believe that your lie could be held out for so long (though you were surprised with how much megumi had tolerated).

you chose the latter. it was fun.

"oh so you're the new class clown, are you?" said coach yaga, and you nearly choked on your own laughter when you saw megumi's offended expression. "nice try — megumi's a girl name."

oh, you thought with amusement. he pulled the perfect card; you watched as megumi's expression had softened (still glowering, always) and spoke under his breath.

"not a girl's name..."

"you trying to be funny, boy?" coach yaga continued brutally. he unfolded his arms. "you're not megumi. she is!"

your cover had been blown: megumi's head turned, leisurely, slowly, almost as if he was hoping, praying to the lord above, that 'she' wasn't who he thought it was.

but when his gaze met yours and found the amusement dancing around your features as you crouched to poorly hide your laughter, he knew his prayers had been dismissed.

of course. why did he even care to believe in hope at this point?

megumi might have been having the worst day of his life, but you were experiencing your best. it wasn't even coach yaga's exclamations that had you reeling (though it was a good contributing factor) it was megumi's realisation, the scowl on his face, the deadpanned look he sent as he sighed loudly, so much so that it almost sounded like a drawn out groan. there wasn't even a point in hiding your laughter from both him and coach yaga anymore, it was clear as day that you were enjoying every bit of this.

megumi was angry.

"i'm megumi," he informed coach yaga. "not her."

coach yaga didn't take that lightly.

"you — megumi is not your name, boy, what are you yapping about?" he demanded, almost growing. he reminded you of that one scene from your favourite anime 'attack on titan' where the teacher — keith shadis — yells at his students, face contorted to form an expression that looked rather funny to you.

"megumi is my name," your angry friend responded, side-stepping away from a ball that had been thrown at him. he glared at you. "that was your fault."

you raised a brow. "how? you dodged it."

he ignored you, choosing to glower at coach yaga instead.

"her name is y/n."

"the hell?"

you thought it was the perfect chance to confuse him even further. you called out to the coach from your favourite position at the back.

"no, no, he's right!" you informed him loudly. "he's megumi!"

coach yaga stared at you, positively startled. "what —"

"yeah, he's not lying! his name is megumi!"

coach yaga pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly. you waited patiently for him to look up, and eventually, when he did, he took his sunglasses off to finally address you, bare eyed and all.

you raised your brows in surprised anticipation.

"right — megumi — y/n — whatever the hell your name is — GET OVER HERE!"

you jumped, turning away and skipping forwards.

"erm — no thanks! i'll just start playing now!"

and true to your word, despite his loud protests (and how very verbal they were), you intercepted and caught a ball, saving a distracted girl on your team, and allowing one of your defeated teammates to return back to the field.

you beamed, waving the ball over your head at yaga.

"see? i did it!"

but you frowned at the sight of a particular player returning to the field due to your impeccable catch. you remembered him to be the random voice yelling at you to 'catch the ball!' or 'help us!'. how ironic.

"um — no, i don't want you back in the game," you said, walking up to him and pointing at the line of players that were out. "not after you shouted at me — don't look at me like that — it's my catch! you can be back in the game," you added to another player.

coach yaga screamed at you from in between the two lines of defeated players.

"YOU DON'T GET TO DECIDE THAT!"

you averted your gaze from your classmate to the coach, slowly regarding him with a look of something in between disbelief and annoyance. you repressed the urge to scoff at him. what ridiculous rules he had made. you didn't remember dodgeball being this strict.

"well i think you should change that dumb rule," you told him, holding the ball beneath your pit and resting your weight on your left leg. "anyway, what are you waiting for?" you asked the other boy you wanted back on your team. "go!"

he was a stammering mess, gesturing from coach yaga to the field, muttering something about 'but i don't think i'm allowed to' or something along those lines. you were growing more impatient with every stutter, with every stammer, with every bit of hesitation.

sighing, you turned to the player that was actually meant to be back in the game, and gestured behind you at the field.

"ugh, you just go because he's taking too long and it's making me tired."

it was funny, because despite coach yaga's fury towards you, that boy had only gone and rightfully joined the game after you demanded so. perhaps p.e lessons weren't so bad, what had nobara been complaining about back when you had a conversation about sports by her locker? p.e was fantastic.

until your ears began to ring again. coach yaga had turned a deep shade of burgundy.

"HEY, THAT'S IT!" he bellowed, and to your complete surprise (and fear), he began stomping forward, making a move for you despite the game continuing.

you squeaked, dropping the ball and running away, unaware of the chaos that had ensued after the referee left his position. you noticed how several players from both teams thought it'd be wise to run back on the field, playing as though they had not quite literally cheated due to the coach's distraction. the thought would have made you laugh had you not been running for your life.

you looked over your shoulder and nearly fell over when someone from the opposing team had recklessly thrown a ball in your team's direction, only for it to hit coach yaga on his thigh.

you stopped, eyes darting over to the culprit who turned out to be a very tall, lanky, brunette kid. his eyes had turned as wide as saucers at the realisation of the gravity of what he'd done. you turned back to coach yaga, shaking your head at him.

"sir you're out," you alerted him helpfully.

you hadn't noticed yuji hovering over your shoulder, megumi standing idly beside him and nobara observing with poorly contained amusement.

"she's right y'know," you heard yuji comment to megumi lowly, but you knew that if you had been able to hear it, coach yaga had definitely heard it too. "he is out —"

you thought you made coach yaga absolutely lose it when he made his move towards you, walking through the ongoing game because he'd just about had it, but you did not know that there was more patience left in him to narrow, not until he stood before you now, fingers half curled inwards and hovering over his own head. you would've assumed that he was going to rip his own hair out, but then you noticed how he didn't really have any to do so.

it was when he started visibly vibrating on the spot, and practically acting feral with untamed indignation, did you fully realise the extent of just how short this man's temper was.

a noise bubbled out of his throat, something akin to a howl. you snorted.

"wait — why's he glitching?" you laughed, watching the odd scene unfold before you.

"oh — he's spazzing out," said yuji, sounding almost concerned despite speaking with a curious air of thoughtfulness.

"men," sighed nobara, eyeing coach yaga critically.

megumi observed his teacher, unbothered. "she broke our teacher."

"i did not break him!" you snapped, but then noticed something that made you clap excitedly. "megumi! he's growling like bear from masha and the bear!" you chortled loudly, slapping away his hand that had extended past yuji to pinch at your arm.

"you couldn't have stopped yourself?" said megumi, eyes half-lidded and seeming slightly bored, not nearly as interested in coach yaga's odd actions as much as everyone else.

you frowned. "huh —"

"it's the first day."

"i know that," you said brightly. "what's your point?"

megumi walked away from you, muttering something under his breath.

it didn't take long before everyone lost interest in the dodgeball game at hand and became more fascinated with the way coach yaga ordered you to get off the playing field and face the other way, apparently in a middle-school version of time out. you scowled. a school for 'big kids', they said. they'll treat you like 'adults', they said.

what lies.

after the twenty minutes of the first round was up, he sent you back on the field with your team, but not before borderline threatening you.

"hey — you," he said, once you'd excitedly waved at nobara. you looked up at him, curious. "you better fix up, or else."

"or else what?"

"or else."

you tilted your head when he left it at that, opting to stare at you in some weird method that was made to, no doubt, intimidate you.

"i don't get it. or else what?"

he groaned loudly. "don't make me shout. get on the field and participate."

you definitely did one of the two things: you stepped out on the field and joined your old friend (and your two new friends) and chatted their ears off with enthusiasm. but as for the latter...

you still faced issues with obeying that particular order.

dodgeball just was not fun when you were so strict about it, so instead of lingering at the back like you had previously done, you joined nobara and stood behind her for moral support.

"i want to get that guy out," she told you, and while it may have looked like you were both conversing about plans for the game to an outsider, you knew all too well that it would only be nobara who formed a game plan.

you side-stepped a lousily thrown ball when you spotted something from the corner of your eye.

"look, nobara! that cloud looks like a bum!"

"what — OW!"

distracted by your observation, nobara had averted her gaze from the opposing team for a single second before she found herself clutching her eye, bulging in pain due to the ball that had made contact with it.

you gasped. her hand hovered over her injury. coach yaga yelled at you furiously.

nobara had to sit out for the rest of the round, a bag of frozen peas pressed against her eye as she lazily slouched on the chair. you scolded the attacker, ignoring the way coach yaga scolded you.

"stop shouting at him when it was your fault!"

"okay okay," you scowled, walking backwards without keeping your eyes off of the coach, your back meeting the side of a warm body.

you turned, startled when yuji's pink hair brushed your cheek.

"oh, careful!" he said, helping you stand properly. he looked over your shoulder, flinching when nobara glared at him simply for meeting her gaze. "damn, nobara seems pissed."

"yeah, it's all that guy's fault," you said, pointing at the boy who had thrown the ball at her.

"wasn't it your fault?" said yuji, frowning at you.

your gaze hardened rapidly. whose side was he on? yours, or that random dude that had the ugliest smirk you had ever seen and was the actual reason nobara was benched for this round? you liked yuji, but you were very disappointed with him now.

"i didn't throw the ball at her."

"yeah but you distracted her —"

you screamed, grabbing yuji by his skinny arms and pulling him in front of you to use him as a human shield. he was surprisingly easy to manoeuvre, moving in the exact direction you had intended with no difficulty whatsoever. half a second later, he had let out a pained groan when the incoming ball met his abdomen just below his waist.

coach yaga blew his whistle.

"you poor kid, you're out," he shouted over the cheers of the other team.

yuji looked at you over his shoulder, incensed and desperate. you let go of his arms and released a long breath.

"heh — erm — thanks for your sacrifice, yuji."

"seriously?" he demanded. "that's what you say after you get me out?"

"sorry, it was every man for himself!" you reasoned with a helpless shrug.

"one of us is a man," he grumbled, making his way towards the line of players that were out.

you waved at him, turning around and then stumbling backwards when megumi's neck had been mere inches from your own face.

"oh — porcupine —"

"don't."

"you scared me!"

he glared at you. "stay away from me."

well that wasn't very nice. megumi never ever expressed his love for you or how you were the greatest friend in the world, which you were used to, that had never been a problem. he definitely insulted you here and there (often) but he gave as good as he got. however, never had he ever said something as rude as that with very little context.

you were not impressed.

"that's rude," you stated with a huff.

"you got those two sent out," he said, quick as a flash. "that's rude."

you rolled your eyes at him. "that's not even true," you said, before pushing his shoulder with yours to walk away from him, only to turn back and add something else. "and i don't even want to stay with you anyway."

"good."

"good!"

"oi, the two megumis!" yelled coach yaga.

the two of you simultaneously looked at the coach. megumi grumbled.

"GET ON WITH IT!"

your ex-friend's head turned to face you once more, and you watched as he scowled at you, his jaw tense and nostrils flaring.

"get away from me," he ordered you coldly.

you raised a brow at him, critical and incredulous.

"no," you said, disbelief hanging onto the single syllable. "it's a free country!"

"i was here first," he responded quickly, with all the passion and excuse of a bratty child.

"yeah well guess what porcupine? i don't care."

"you should. you're gonna get me out somehow."

"whatever," you said, before turning to walk away.

but then you hurriedly turned back, wanting to address something very quickly. megumi had already shaped the rest of his body in a competitive stance, knees bent and arms extended. his brows were furrowed, eyeing the opposing team almost menacingly, though he looked more focused and concentrated than he did angry. he barely moved his head to look at you when you spoke again.

"oh, and by the way," you stated, pointer finger raised to emphasise your statement, "i'm only walking away because i want to. not because you told me to, so..."

"i don't care," he'd said, just as you'd turned your back to him for the nth time within a single minute.

but history showed that the two of you always fought for the last word and you would definitely not lose your two-year-long streak over some stupid dodgeball game.

so you spun on the spot again, ignoring the menacing look he'd sent you.

"i don't want to stand next to you anyways. i'll stand next to someone who actually wears the friendship bracelet i give them —"

you walked off (for real this time) just as megumi stood up straight and yelled after you.

"i had to take a shower!"

"for what?" you demanded, choosing to walk backwards this time so you could continue walking and talking. "you come out looking scruffy anyw— look out!"

he barely budged when the ball hit his leg, seemingly accepting his cruel fate. you froze when he sent you the stink eye, sheepishly shrugging when coach yaga's whistle cut through the tense silence.

"megumi number two, you're out!"

megumi stood completely still, shoulders drooped and eyelids heavy. you thought he looked like uncle ogi when he sat in his special arm chair and simply contemplated his life. it would have been funny if not for the harsh circumstances. megumi only looked up to address the coach.

"it's just megumi —"

"okay just megumi — GET OFF THE FIELD!"

and as he did just that, you did not miss the small 'stupid mermaid' he muttered to himself.

the slightest tinge of guilt that slyly crawled its way into your stomach and sat there comfortably like a turtle in its shell had been fought off by your immune system the second you'd heard him curse you with that stupid nickname. you didn't feel bad about the loss of that dumb porcupine from your team. he barely brought anything to the table to begin with: excitement? he had no humour. personality? he was boring. style? look at his hair.

the next ten minutes of the game had you almost pleasantly surprised: the majority of your team found themselves standing in the line of defeated players, simply observing, watching and waiting for some warrior to come in and catch a ball for them (seeing as you certainly would not). it had become so frequent, so consistent that everyone but you would somehow get hit by the ball, that the rest of the game was barely dodgeball — it was a waiting game.

they were waiting on you.

to either pick up the ball and throw it, or catch the next ball flying at you.

you did neither.

and because you'd done neither, all the balls had ended up on your end of the field, meaning that members of the other team had to wait until you decided to throw a few back.

but really, you spent your time apologising to yuji. you had attempted to do so before, but the other team rudely interrupted you by trying to bombard you with multiple balls. now that all of them were on your court, they wouldn't be able to attack you.

"listen yuji," you said, for (probably about) the fifth time, "i am so sorry for using you as a human shield and then saying that it's every man for themselves —"

when you thought that you would not get distracted by the other team, you had forgotten that the biggest distraction of all could enter both courts: coach yaga.

"OI, PICK UP THE BALL, AND THROW IT —"

"— wait, i'm not done yet!" you snapped, throwing the coach a dirty look before softening your expression to address a bored yuji once again. "where was i? oh yeah! i didn't mean to use you as a human shield, i just don't like to be hit by things. so i'm sorry i got you out, okay? and —"

"— YOUR TIME IS RUNNING OUT  —"

"— and!" you continued over the loud voice that belonged to the bear that just so happened to be your coach, "— i regret it so much. i'm sorry, yuji."

"what about me?" said megumi.

you looked at him, eyes narrowed and head tilted.

"only friends get apologies," you told him, gaze darting down to his bare wrist before meeting his dark eyes once more. "and it's not even my fault you got out — i didn't tell you to stare at me, did i? anyways, i'm sorry, yuji."

"IF YOU WERE REALLY SORRY, YOU'D CATCH A BALL AND GET THAT PINK KID BACK IN THE GAME!"

yuji, who had been silently listening to your honest and true apology, had turned his head to look at the coach with a confused and hurt expression. he looked like a kicked puppy.

"pink ki—" he barely finished his sentence before the pout invaded the previous frown he'd been sporting.

"well i can't catch a ball if they're not throwing any, can i?" you said matter-of-factly.

"ALL THE BALLS ARE ON YOUR COURT, THROW THEM THEN!"

nearly every member of your team nodded and agreed. you thought they were a bunch of sheep but said nothing about it. you rolled your eyes and picked up the balls, walking towards the line that separated the two courts and then simply dropped the balls there.

"what the hell are you — WHY ARE YOU GIVING IT TO THEM?"

you turned, one ball under your pit and the other on your free palm.

"i thought you said you wanted me to give it to them and then catch it!"

"NO, YOU CONFUSED CHILD — I SAID TO THROW THEM!"

you dropped all the balls remaining in your hold and then sighed. "this is too hard — OH MY GOD!"

you'd barely been given the time to adjust to the new rules of the game (that you'd never once heard of) before the players on the other team were throwing the balls you had given them at you.

you scowled after you ducked at a ball aiming for your head.

"hey, i gave those to you!"

"yeah, that's the point," a boy with shoulder length hair responded.

you got used to the constant attacks eventually, so much so that you ended up skipping around your end of the field, immune to the constant background distractions and noise (your classmates and coach yaga shouting, nobara was the only one that seemed careless as to whatever the hell you chose to do with your free will) that it almost felt like a dream. it felt liberating to have an entire field to yourself. the rest of the game had gone really well for you: you spent your time cart-wheeling away from the balls thrown, and if you were feeling particularly cheeky in that minute, you'd also do a front aerial.

but where the game had been going splendidly for you, it had been going very poorly for your poor teammates:

"sir can i just replace her?" megumi volunteered, deadpanned and serious.

coach yaga let out a long sigh, though it sounded like it could also be a growl. "no, kid. that's cheating."

megumi looked up at the tall, buff man and glowered at him. "do rules even apply now? look at her —"

you were now trying to convince the blonde girl on the other team to let you teach her how to do the splits.

coach yaga pinched the bridge of his nose hard enough to scar his own aged skin. he blew the whistle after he spent a few minutes contemplating: he finished the game early, and since it was the final class of the day, you all got to go home early.

the class half hated and half loved you for it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

you had to give it to yuji's gramps, the interior design of his house was wonderful. despite being completely deaf, it seemed that the man's lost sense had contributed to his heightened sight, for you could not find a single thing to critique when you'd stepped inside for the first time. it wasn't massive or big like a typical rich person's mansion, it was decent sized and homey, a cosy place that made your insides feel fuzzy and warm like the vibe you got after drinking hot chocolate in front of your fireplace with megumi and the rest of the family growing up.

you, yuji, megumi and nobara hung around at yuji's often. it was easier to get away with things because of the sole fact that his grandfather simply could not hear and made no effort in trying to either.

on one special occasion, the four of you had cycled over to yuji's place straight after school — though megumi and yuji had to take quick showers as they'd been left sweaty and sticky after participating in p.e. you and nobara never did much during those lessons, so the two of you had been completely fine.

"i told you," said yuji, marching over to where you'd been standing by the kitchen to replace the dead flowers in the beige glass, "grandpa hates roses."

"how would you know?" you said, admiring the fresh roses you'd brought over as nobara and megumi threw your backpacks in the designated corner of the living room. "has he ever communicated that to you?"

yuji raised a brow at you. "he's deaf, not mute."

before you could snap back at your pink-haired friend, who had also shot up in height over your time in the sixth grade, megumi had cut through your conversation with a sharp insult.

"you guys sound like idiots," he commented idly. "and yuji's right: he hates roses."

"roses are pretty, what reason does he have to hate them?" said nobara, easily coming to your defence.

over the following months, nobara had warmed up to both boys — yuji and megumi — even if she claimed that she still disliked them very much. her cold exterior towards them had been hard to break, as yuji would constantly mention at any chance he got, but you were glad it did: you couldn't argue with the idiot boys all on your own.

"porcupine, stop siding with the dumb pink kid," you said. stepping away from the roses and making your way down the narrow hall to yuji's bedroom.

"jokes on you, i'm okay with that name now!" he called out from somewhere behind you.

you could hear megumi complaining straight after. "shut up, why are you so loud?"

"you're such a grandpa, megumi," said nobara.

you hummed in agreement, reaching yuji's tall black door at the end of the narrow, dark hallway, twisting the knob and then inviting yourself in. somehow, megumi had overtaken yuji in the walk to his bedroom. you could see the outline of his scruffy hair from his shadow plastered over the wall. once you strutted in, you made an attempt to slam the door in megumi's face, forcing it shut behind you.

he grunted, kicking the door open and then following in straight after you. you had assumed that that would be the end of it, but proven wrong when you felt the heel of megumi's shoe dig into the dip of your knees from behind.

you stacked as a result.

it was embarrassing, but you stood back up just as quickly as you had stacked, spinning around to glare at your stoic friend who simply shrugged and walked off, his hands in the pockets of his pants looking as uncaring as ever.

yuji's bedroom was rather spacious. his walls were a dark shade of blue with a large-screen television attached to the left. he had a single massive window presenting the back garden (which was also not nearly as big as yours or megumi's, though you thought uncle ogi would like the look of it). his bed was rather unique and not out of the ordinary — for someone as spontaneous as yuji, that is.

because he just couldn't have a normal bed like everyone else, yuji had a ceiling bed, something that megumi and nobara had felt was excessive. you did too, for sure (which explained why you spent most of your time up there the first few times you'd come over to his place).

beneath his ceiling bed was his gaming console and a bunch of other cool technological things you played around with from time to time.

the couch at the centre of the room was where the four of you would lounge whenever you'd watch a movie together. it was also routine for you and yuji to argue over the single bean bag that sat just in front of the couch on the floor.

"let's watch a horror movie!" yuji announced as you and nobara flopped onto the couch with all of your limbs spread out.

megumi scowled at the two of you, harshly grabbing nobara's leg and pulling so he could make space. she yelled at him in response, using your hands (which you willingly offered) to pull herself back up and use it as a grip so she could effectively kick at him with her free leg without the risk of falling.

megumi did not like that at all.

"that's cheating."

"i wasn't aware that there were any rules —" she made an attempt to kick him again, "— to this."

"there are when you have the mermaid helping you —"

you threw the spider-man pillow you'd been leaning on at his face and glared at him even when you successfully hit your target.

"yeah, so when you don't look like a porcupine anymore, you stupid sea urchin —" you started, but were rudely interrupted by the enthusiastic voice that was yuji.

throughout all the arguing and chaos, he had been switching through different types of horror movies to watch. you hadn't noticed with the raging hot anger you felt towards megumi.

"insidious chapter three," he read out, comfortably slacking against the squishy bean bag. "yeah, let's watch that!"

nobara, now forcefully pushed to the side as megumi took the odd and foolish initiative to sit on you in order to make you move, loudly verbalised her agreement.

"heard it's super scary though," she said. "let's do it!"

"i —" you began, finding it difficult to speak with megumi's back pressed against your face. you shuffled and pushed at his stubborn body. "i a-agree!"

megumi pushed his weight further into you. you coughed dramatically.

"megumi-you-stupid-cow-i-can't-breathe!"

"good."

"what —" you gasped, harshly breathing in as much air as possible, "what did you eat today — an elephant?"

he only pushed down harder at that.

yuji joyfully clicked on the movie, quickly scrolling down the description and the short list of actors that would be present. you spent the time forcing megumi off of you, only successful after more than twenty tries (you were oddly certain about it) and then claimed your seat by the arm of the long couch. corner seats were your absolute favourite; there was no particular reason why, just that it felt a lot more comfortable than being sandwiched in between two warm bodies — megumi was also very stiff, you and nobara collectively agreed, so if you were to be stuck in between two people, you wished megumi wouldn't be one out of two of them.

with the space you'd been selfishly raiding now free, curtesy of your movement to the very right of the couch, nobara easily slid next to you, linking your arms and shifting in her seat so she could get more comfortable to the new adjustment. megumi, however, stood before the two of you, glancing at the only other corner seat that had been meant for him.

"move," he told nobara, demanding and with the manners of a seagull.

her nose scrunched up with disgust at his tone. "what? no."

"i don't wanna sit in the corner," megumi complained while you played with yuji's hair: his seat on his beanbag was right against your knees.

"yeah well tough," said nobara, lifting your interlinked arms just enough so megumi could see them. "y/n's my friend."

his brows furrowed as if that had been the dumbest thing he'd ever heard, though you knew all too well that couldn't be true, not when megumi had strongly proven his disagreement with hilary smith from the fifth grade when she claimed that the government had everyone put in schools to become robots in the future. that was a core memory you wouldn't forget.

"she was my friend first," he countered, looking as though nobara's point had been extremely pointless.

you laughed, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and attempting to look humble.

"guys, guys," you intervened smoothly, "there's enough of me to go around for everyone —"

"yeah guys," yuji added ungraciously, "there's enough of me to go around —"

"nobody's arguing over you," megumi snapped, silencing him momentarily. he opened his mouth to, no doubt, berate him further when you had cut across him, gazing down at yuji with a scowl.

"what are you yapping about?" you asked your pink-haired friend, relishing in the hiss he'd let out when you pulled at his hair, a look of confusion and disbelief on your face. "just do what you do best and find us a movie. you're embarrassing me."

megumi seemed to have given up on the topic entirely, sitting in the only free space and frowning as he did so.

"i did!" yuji argued back, slapping your hand away from his hair and rubbing his scalp with a frown you could not see.

"no you didn't," said megumi, eyeing the tv screen critically. "why are we watching insidious chapter three before we've even watched chapters one and two?"

"because we can, porcupine, stop complaining," you answered swiftly.

"it's dumb," he said impatiently.

nobara sighed irritably. "yuji, just ignore him and put it on."

"already on it!"

but megumi hadn't quite finished his speech:

"that's like watching the fifth harry potter movie without the first," he said, afraid that if he rolled his eyes once more at your stupidity, they'd be stuck to the back of his head for good. "who does that?"

"um — like — everyone?" you replied, encouraging nobara to hit megumi for you. it was difficult to reach him when the two of you were on two different ends of the couch.

he stared at you, dumbfounded with your stubborn response. "what planet are you living on?"

you grinned. "actually, megumi, the only live-able planet that humans can live on is earth so it's not real if i said mars or something," you told him matter-of-factly, and then looked at both nobara and yuji for certainty, your voice low. "...right, guys? i'm right aren't i?"

both of them nodded:

"yeah i think so..."

"yeah..."

"live-able's not a word."

the three of you stared at him wordlessly.

"that's what you got out of that?" you said, voicing all three of your thoughts and cutting through the tense silence.

megumi ignored you, looking back at the tv screen with disdain.

"you guys are stupid, we won't understand anything happening if we skip the first two movies."

"we'll be fine," said yuji, standing up and stretching as he walked over to his mini-fridge beside his console. he looked over his shoulder as he called out to the three of you. "sprite or dr pepper?"

"sprite!"

"dr pepper!"

"water."

...

"you're so boring, porcupine!"

"yeah, who chugs a water during a horror movie?"

"i mean i have a bottle here but i didn't think anyone would actually want it —"

"shut up. all of you. yeah you too, mermaid."

you barely took the time to actually acknowledge what he was saying, barely took the time to realise that he had called you a mermaid, but it didn't matter anyway. whatever his response would be, polite or not, there was no other response you'd give than one that would insult your grumpy friend.

"i'm half convinced that you're really yuji's gramps."

yuji had come around and handed you your requested drinks with a laugh. he flopped down on his beanbag and lifted the remote with his spare hand to click on the triangle to finally play the movie.

"why am i friends with you guys?" megumi sighed, a tick in his jaw as he glared at the tv screen.

"don't be rude," said nobara, and the hiss that megumi had let out during her loud exclamation told you that she must have pinched him too.

"no nobara, this is development!" you clapped excitedly, the intro of the movie playing before the four of you. "it took him years to admit we were friends!"

megumi extended his arm over the back of the couch to tug at your hair. "i never said —"

"— he said it by accident too."

"i don't like this conversation."

nobara nudged your side and used her foot to do the same to yuji.

"he doesn't like the movie, he doesn't like the conversation. what do you like, huh?"

yuji, who had been blissfully unaware of the verbal battle going on behind him, looked over his shoulder and grinned at you. even in the dim lighting, and the flashes of light in curtesy of the film playing before you all, you could see the mischief underlining his toothy grin.

the both of you answered nobara's question at the same time:

"hana."

three out of four of you burst out laughing, struggling to breathe as megumi rested his chin on his left palm and glared intensely at the poor football plushie on the floor of yuji's room. he angrily shoved off nobara's fingers that had curled around his bicep, grumbling to himself as he did so.

"his fated one," you continued, chortling as yuji threw his head back against your knees.

hana was a girl that the four of you had met during your first few social studies classes at the beginning of the academic year. she had been lurking around the four of you for a little while, it seemed odd how she'd also sit on the table in the cafeteria right besides yours and simply stare. she clearly did not seem to mind that she had been caught (except the first three times it happened, and then after that, she'd had no shame).

after a lengthy discussion, one of which came to all sorts of theories, the most meaningful one being that hana was an undercover serial killer out for you all because of the fact that you had literally accused her of it when you'd had enough of being jump-scared by her mere existence, you found out that she was not a serial killer, she did not want to kill you, and she liked megumi fushiguro romantically.

it took a while for it to sink in:

she liked megumi fushiguro.

romantically.

and she was not shy about it at all, announcing that megumi was her 'fated' one in front of the entire class, being the first to offer herself up as a partner to him in paired work, and so much more. your favourite was when she'd introduced herself as 'hana fushiguro'.

but while megumi had disliked this very much, the rest of your little friendship circle revelled in it, wringing it out like orange in juicer.

there had been one golden opportunity that you used to push megumi and hana together. the task had been to create a poster of knowledge about the certain subtopic the class had been studying for the semester. in pairs.

yuji demanded that you be partnered up with him and you nearly obliged, but when you caught sight of a blonde haired, ditzy girl making her way towards an oblivious megumi, you stopped short of yourself and pushed yuji away from you.

"get away from me, pinkie pie," you said, ignoring yuji's 'rude!', waiting and watching as megumi strode towards you with a fierce look in his eyes. you couldn't help but laugh at his cheeks as they slowly turned pink with embarrassment.

you shook your head at him, silently communicating that you would not be his partner even if it meant that you got paired up with malakai, the class emo who always claimed that the 'darkness was consuming' him (and also visibly glitches when he does not get called by his short name - kai).

"y/n," said megumi, and you even dared to believe that he was almost at the point of begging. however, after being friends with the poor boy, you were well aware of his pesky stubborn nature.

still, that had not stopped you from being hopeful.

"maybe if you got on your knees and begged," you started cheekily.

megumi gawked at you, in megumi-fashion, brows furrowed and jaw clenched.

"you sadist."

"actually, i'm a masochist."

"..."

"..."

"that's not what it means —"

"anyways, my partner's nobara so..." you told him honestly, and the dark-haired girl had supported you as you leaned against her table she'd been seated at. "don't leave hana waiting."

megumi sighed irritably, then turned around to lock eyes with yuji, but the traitor had spun away with a too-loud laugh and babbled about how the darkness was actually very amusing as he seated himself next to malakai. megumi's eye twitched. nobody ever partnered up with malakai. it said a lot about how determined his foolish friends were.

and as if his day could not have gotten worse, miss haqq, the teacher, had finally spoken.

"megumi, why are we not partnered up, huh?" she asked, though not unkindly. "who's your partner?"

"y/n's my partner —"

you slammed your hand on the table you'd been leaning on, nobara barely flinched, and then stood up properly.

"lies!" you stated, angrily staring at your unsurprised teacher.

she let out a small breath. "y/n we're not in theatre class right now. and megumi?"

megumi shrugged, glancing at you. you bristled.

"miss he's lying," you said honestly, facing him again to stare at him critically. "who taught you to do that?"

"you," said megumi, as though it were a question even a year old baby could answer.

you stared at him, his answer recycling itself in your mind over and over again, making you become well aware of the comical silence the classroom had been left in.

"well..." you began, unsure of where you were planning on going with this, "you just... admitted... to lying... so..."

"right, megumi, find someone who's freeeee," miss haqq interrupted swiftly, extending the final letter of her sentence in an almost sing-song voice as her eyes darted left and right around the classroom before they stopped short of someone behind him. megumi wanted to die. "ah, hana's not got a partner. there you go, i knew my counting wasn't wrong."

but it hadn't ended there. megumi had, with extremely low spirits, seated himself next to the blonde girl and tried his hardest on discussing merely work-related things, all while praying that her insistent staring and odd statements would cease to exist sooner rather than later. but the universe didn't seem to be on his side. not when she first confessed to him, and certainly not now.

"y'know," hana began, in that low voice of hers she always used when talking to him specifically, "you have really nice eyes."

megumi continued to write on their large a4 sheet. "thanks," he'd said, uncomfortable. "my dad gave them."

you and nobara had been sitting in front of him, respectively working on your own poster when you overheard the awkward conversation taking place behind you. after exchanging a look of amusement with nobara, you turned in your seat to speak to hana seriously.

"i usually fight the toji... he's your father-in-law by the way."

you turned back around before megumi could spew out any nonsense about you. nobara had been gripping onto your lower arm the entire time, trying not to giggle.

you hadn't seen it, but hana beamed at the distraught boy sitting next to her, eyes radiant and bright.

"i know your dad's name now," said hana thoughtfully, and you couldn't help but think that toji would not be happy about that, but she didn't have to know that, did she? she continued to speak as though she was sitting on cloud nine itself. "it's good, i'll be more familiar with him. this must be a sign, your own friend knows... we're fated to be together."

you pinched nobara's thigh, though not had enough to bruise or hurt her. she took your signal with a small nod and leaned over the head of her chair to address the dazed girl behind her. megumi continued to glare.

"y'know it's funny," said nobara, a weird tone to her voice that megumi did not like very much, "'cause just the other day, megumi told me that fate brought you guys together."

hurriedly, nobara returned back to your a4 sheet and began working as though she hadn't just crafted megumi's doom. the two of you quietly laughed together, though it wasn't very discreet. megumi's head ached with every simultaneous shake of your shoulders.

hana was very pleased at nobara's comment, perhaps even more pleased than what you had told her prior to that. she glanced at megumi expectantly. he sighed, his grip on his pencil tightening, showcasing his blue veins.

"look —" he began, but hana had moved her chair closer to his, the loud screech of the legs of her chair against the floor momentarily leaving him deaf.

"i mean... i said the same thing before, but i never said it to you, so you couldn't have known —"

"actually you said it very loudly," interrupted megumi, trying not to sound unkind, though it wasn't very easy when everyone around him told him that he was naturally rude. "and also i never said that."

hana did not break eye contact with him as she sighed, her cheek resting against her palm lazily. megumi felt something weird simmer in his stomach. was that guilt?

it couldn't be: he had kindly rejected hana's advances countless times. it was starting to irk him now. he was only twelve, what did he know about crushes and romance? and it certainly didn't help that the three idiots that were his friends always pushed the notion that he also felt something for hana. he could not express the thought enough: he did not like hana.

"i'm sorry," he said, when it became clear that she would simply sit in silence and watch him carefully. "i don't feel the same way."

but hana merely hummed in what seemed like content. megumi was used to it. she had this thing where any rejection to her advances would go in through one ear and out through the other. so why did he still feel the slightest bit of guilt circling around his tummy?

"well," she began slowly, palm raised up as she gestured over to the two girls sitting in front of her (you and nobara), "that's two out of three of your friends that think we're good together. i just need one more for confirmation —"

"yeah i wouldn't count on it," megumi interrupted swiftly, his eyes slowly travelling over to the darkest corner of the room where yuji had been forced to sit in in order to accommodate malakai's needs. the emo didn't like sitting in the light, apparently.

but he instantly regretted his choice of movement, for yuji had caught his eye, and megumi did not like the way it gleamed with mischief. he regrettably watched as yuji stood up, addressing malakai before doing whatever the hell he planned on doing, no doubt something to do with megumi and hana.

"all right mal— i mean kai," stammered yuji, wary of uttering his full name by accident. the whole point of his speech was to make the emo feel at ease with yuji's disappearance, not to draw more attention to it. "i got something to do, so i'll be back, all right?" he explained with a grin. "the darkness around here isn't really vibing with me anyway —"

"no."

yuji's wrist had been caught by a hand colder than his mini-fridge when he'd attempted to leave. he flinched, looking down at malakai who was gripping onto him for dear life, snarling. if discomfort was an image, it'd be this very sight for yuji.

"you must not leave," said malakai, creating the very scene yuji had been desperate to avoid.

"dude, let go of me," he started, pulling at his arm to free himself of malakai's grip, but it was iron tight, cold, and incredibly strong. "dude —"

"yuji itadori," stated malakai, and yuji felt an icy shiver run down his spine. no one had ever uttered his name with such spleen. it scared him.

but before yuji could do anything else, malakai had bared his teeth at him and hissed. yuji stumbled back, visibly and audibly frightened, making a harsher attempt at getting away from his partner, an attempt that included knocking the entire table down and pushing his chair back to run.

everyone's heads had turned to the back of the classroom.

yuji scowled as malakai made an attempt to hide under the fallen table. the emo did not like attention. how ironic when he behaved like that.

"well now there's no point in moving," the pink-haired boy sighed, grimacing at the emo's weird actions. "i can just say it from here: hey hana!"

she perked up. megumi did not miss the wink she sent him. now looking at malakai's need to isolate himself from everyone, megumi thought a deep part of him understood it. not that he'd ever communicate that to anyone, and certainly not you.

"megumi told me in the locker rooms that your — er — your light basically — er — con— contradicts! — yeah that's the word — his darkness!"

"you mean 'contrasts'," said megumi, scowling.

as all eyes turned to him, particularly the pressing ones belonging to hana, megumi recoiled, ignoring your praise to yuji at catching him out.

"i never said that by the way," he quickly assured hana, but she seemed to be in her own world.

"really?" you added cheekily, "because you knew exactly what yuji meant."

"shut up, mermaid."

"now that's out of line!" you snapped, standing up and pointing a particularly sharp pencil at megumi.

"stop, y/n," said nobara, momentarily snapping you out of your thoughts as you averted your gaze over to her and slowly dropped your arm back to your side. she was right. perhaps a physical argument wasn't exactly wise. but nobara wasn't finished; she held up her scissors. "use this instead!"

you threw the pencil over your shoulder, uncaring of where it landed and joyfully took the sharp pair of scissors nobara had offered you.

megumi shook his head, snapping himself out of his own thoughts and angrily pointing at the movie playing in front of you all, his other hand fiddling with his water bottle just to have something to do with it, feeling hot and bothered.

"can we watch the movie?" he voiced, visibly annoyed.

the three of you decided that your joint discussion about megumi and hana would be put to an end seeing as you made your poor friend go through enough torment for a day. but while megumi assumed that distracting everyone from the topic at hand would be beneficial for himself, to give himself some peace and quiet and free of any and all annoyances, he found that this simply amplified the chatter out of you.

megumi had been correct, which wasn't a surprise at all.

watching the third movie before watching the first two created a lot of confusion, that of which couldn't have been kept inside you. annoyingly enough, you just had to voice it encouraging yuji and nobara to engage with you too:

"hey, who's that guy?" you thought aloud.

"that's her dad, i think," answered nobara thoughtfully. "i think his name is alex."

"no, alex is her brother," said yuji, pointing at the screen. "her dad's name is quinn."

"no it's not!"

"yes it is! isn't it, y/n?"

"no, the dad's name is elise," you said, matter-of-factly.

megumi inwardly groaned. "elise is a girl name. that's not her dad."

"okay, so explain why your name is megumi then?" you shot back at him, accusatory.

he grumbled something under his breath. you took that as a win. but it didn't end there.

not only were the characters confusing to the three of you, the story was too:

"what the hell is the man who can't breathe?" you voiced, curious and also simultaneously angry. "why won't they tell us what happened to him? how the hell are we supposed to know?"

"right?" agreed yuji loudly. "and why's he wearing an oxygen mask?"

"clearly he doesn't know style," tutted nobara, before leaning further more into your side. "why is the demon after them specifically?"

"yeah, what the hell is that about?"

"i have no idea what's going on here."

you perked up brightly. "actually, i do."

yuji turned around and beamed, though you could see the slightly frightened look in his eyes.

"you do?" he asked, hopeful.

you nodded and went off on a tangent explaining the story:

"yeah, so, basically that girl that was on the screen like a few seconds ago — i forgot her name —"

"oh you mean elise?" said nobara.

"no, not her —"

"quinn?" said yuji.

you clicked your fingers at him and nodded. "yeah! yeah, her — so she's looking to find out why the demon killed her in another life, but like, the guy — her dad, right — he's trying to stop her because he knows it'll break her. and you know dave?"

you waited expectantly. yuji and nobara shrugged.

"i don't remember a dave," your pink-haired friend commented, scratching his head while he spoke.

nobara voiced her agreement:

"yeah, i must've missed him."

"well anyways! dave is secretly the demon, so..."

yuji stared at you before looking away and nodding slowly as if he were piecing the entire plot in his head together. nobara pulled out her phone, unlocking it and muttering.

"i think we should fact-check it —"

"no don't fact-check it," you said quickly.

"idiots," grumbled megumi.

the movie progressed, just as your confusion did too.

"why did that guy beg for elise's help again?" said yuji, but only after chugging a large amount of his dr pepper, burping ungracefully after.

"ew, have some shame," snapped nobara, kicking yuji's side and relishing in the yelp he let out. "but yeah, why did that guy beg for elise's help again?"

you shrugged. "i don't know guys, let's ask megumi."

"yeah that's a good idea —"

"oh yeah, megumi —"

"don't ask megumi."

the three of you stared at him. megumi frowned.

"i don't know who said that."

"cut the crap, porcupine," you said, rolling your eyes. he looked away, guilty. "we all know it was the red-faced demon —"

he stared at you once again, deadpanned. "sure."

you ignored him. "anyways, why's the demon after their family, megumi?"

before megumi could answer, yuji cut in:

"it's getting a little scary, y'know... hey megumi, how did elise become a ghost?"

"i —"

nobara poked megumi's side. "hey, did elise kill josh or something? i don't get it."

"that's not —"

"porcupine why's quinn trying to contact her mom? why can't she just call her instead of doing rituals? ... porcupine? porcupine!"

megumi had left the couch to stand by the door, his phone pressed to his ear and his back to the movie.

"mom, can you pick me up?"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

2015-2016 seventh grade

megumi had been off. distant. unavailable, in a way.

it didn't seem like an issue to everyone else, but you could see it in the way he zoned out off conversations, found interest in next-to-nothing, and not even malakai's advances to nobara made him flinch. to an outsider, it would've seemed like megumi on a bad day (when he was acting grumpier than usual). to you, it seemed like something different and foreign was on his mind.

you didn't press him for information, not when he'd given you a short goodbye just before home-time, acting as though the two of you couldn't have walked together like normal seeing as you lived opposite one another, and not even when he'd seemed extra quiet during the last friday night dinner at satoru's.

he was always a quiet kid, sure, but something was missing, and though you couldn't quite put a finger on it, you knew you weren't overreacting.

in fact, even yuji and nobara agreed with you. apparently, during the training for the school's next football game, megumi had been completely out of it that he had to be benched for the rest of the game — according to yuji.

at the moment, the two of you were sitting together for homeroom. the day had just about started, and though you had been forced to sit at the very front, right across the teacher's desk (apparently you couldn't be trusted to sit elsewhere) you disobediently sat right next to megumi at the back of the classroom, ignoring his look of confusion, the most emotion he'd shown within the past week.

"what're you doing?"

"shut up, porcupine," you hissed, slumping in your seat so you wouldn't get caught. "you'll draw attention!"

"you'll get in trouble," he said blankly.

you grinned lazily. "that's what you said about... eight or nine years ago when i sat next to you in kindergarten, remember?"

megumi seemed almost dazed, as though he were in a dream. he'd been displaying odd emotions for the last week, but you'd never seen him so pliable like now, eyes focused yet unfocused, drawn to you and only you as if everybody else didn't exist. was it something you said? was it something you'd done?

you didn't know how to go about it, so you merely laughed, just as megumi answered your question.

"yeah," he said, frowning slightly.

"and then you weren't just wrong," you continued carelessly. "you were so, so wrong, that we even ended up becoming best friends! you didn't see that coming, did you?"

megumi stared at you. you were too busy wondering why nobara had allowed malakai into the seat next to her, though perhaps she hadn't actually allowed him. it explained why she was voicing to him an array of all types of colourful threats.

you glanced back at megumi, noticing his dark pupils following every movement of yours. you laughed.

"megumi stop staring at me," you chortled, covering your face and finding it difficult to speak and laugh at the same time. your stomach hurt as a result. "stop why do you look possessed! ... okay megumi it's not funny anymore, you're scaring me."

you frowned when he rolled his eyes at you. at least some part of him was still alive. you had an idea to bring back every part of him, even more so when his gaze landed on you once more, his poker-face falling slowly. he almost looked upset.

"so i came to a revelation yesterday," you told him, smiling. "i think the earth's flat."

you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, expecting a major reaction, expecting a number of colourful insults, expecting him, megumi.

all you got was the silence that had been radiating off of him for the entire week. at least you knew for sure that you weren't imagining things: your friend was dealing with something so big, it distracted him from your outrageous declaration.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the walk home wasn't exactly pleasant either. you did most of the talking, which wasn't completely out of the ordinary, but before all of this unknown drama circulating with megumi, he had the decency to give his input here and there. now, however, it was simply as though you were talking to a brick wall, barely any response to your comments. if you were lucky enough, you'd receive a small grunt or a nod of acknowledgement. but it was fruitless, essentially.

it was almost boring.

you were never bored with megumi. ever.

you had no idea what had him so occupied, but your attempts at conversation had become so dry, you opted to remain silent the rest of the way, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder as you gazed at the houses you passed by, internally questioning and critiquing the exterior design, knowing that mentioning it aloud to megumi would be less exciting than in your head.

the two of you had made it past the traffic lights by this point, now entering the calm scenery that was your neighbourhood. the roads were empty, only occasionally did a few cars make their way through. the sun had only just started to set, still high in the sky, but vibrant enough to blind you with its soft, orange glow. as the two of you reached the end of the road and turned left to where your houses would be after another few minutes of walking, you spotted one of the houses that had been newly sold to a family of four. it seemed that their moving in process was still ongoing, for the van that carried all their boxes was still parked in front of the house.

you had half a mind to go over and introduce yourselves, find some excitement in forcing megumi to do some socialising with you and relishing in the little scowl he'd sport that nobody but you would be able to notice, but megumi had turned and walked the opposite way before you could say anything.

"let's go this way," was all he'd said, knowing you'd follow him questioningly.

and follow him questioningly you did, turning around and demanding answers for why he insisted on taking the long way home instead of the time-efficient way. it was unlike him. but you'd noticed, within this entire week, megumi hadn't really been himself, had he?

the very last thing you wanted to do was pressure him into telling you what parasite he had become victim to. yet, you had no idea how to approach such a serious topic. the two of you had never tested such waters before. everything you'd been through together had been comical, humorous, never once drowning in the sea of weighty situations.

you just weren't made for it (even if megumi looked the part).

"at least carry me if you're gonna make me walk the long way home," you complained loudly.

megumi didn't respond. you watched him with furrowed brows before giving up the amusing act altogether and sighed loudly.

"what's going on?" you asked him, extending an arm to grab at his and half his movements.

the streets were void of any pressing ears. he had no excuse hiding whatever it was for longer.

megumi didn't shrug you off like you expected him to. instead, he stared at you, jaw clenched and brows furrowed.

"you're being weird," you added, when it became quite clear that he wouldn't respond. your hand fell limp at your side again. "i don't like it."

to your surprise, instead of walking off without a second thought, he shrugged. "don't know what you're talking about."

"don't play dumb with me," you said firmly. "yuji told me you got benched."

megumi's brow twitched. he didn't look too pleased about you knowing, it seemed. you felt like you were walking on eggshells. you hated it.

"fine," you said gently, though your expression remained fierce. "don't tell me. but i —"

you let out a small breath, finding difficulty in searching for the right words to use. you were angry at yourself, but also at the education system. schools should focus on training kids on how to approach situations like these, for you'd never felt so clueless in your life.

"i'm — i'm always here," you struggled to spit out, "if you want to talk."

megumi stared at you with an expression you couldn't quite place. of course, it was the usual monotonous look, the standard half-lidded eyes and small scowl, jaw tense which would have made an outsider assume he was angry. but you knew better. even with that odd mask, there was always something lingering behind it: that was his happy face as well as his sad, angry, confused, shocked face.

with that list came a new addition, the one displayed shamelessly before you, though you couldn't quite place what it was. though as much as you wanted to discover this nameless emotion, time was cruel, and megumi had already cut it short by choosing to walk the long way home.

you took a small step back.

"okay now laugh," you said hurriedly.

megumi recoiled. "huh?"

"laugh," you repeated, unrelenting. "this is so weird so i need you to laugh."

he raised a sharp brow at you. "look who you're talking to."

you slapped your hand against your forehead in shock. "you're right!" you exclaimed, as the two of you began the long trek back to your houses. "if you laugh, the earth would turn upside down!"

"that's not possible."

the walk home had been a lot more pleasant than the ones you'd experienced with him the last four days.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the sky resembled a painting you'd seen a few years back when you took a trip to the art museum with uncle ogi and your mom: it was dark, very dark, but the sparkles dotted around each cloud illuminated the night sky, brightening it enough for you to examine it better than one who stared at a sky with no stars whatsoever. you'd heard that apparently in some countries, the pollution was so bad to the point where the stars weren't even the slightest bit visible; you couldn't imagine that. what was a sky with no stars? what was a day with no sun? what was a night with no moon?

what were you without megumi?

no, really, where the hell was he? he said he'd meet you up on his rooftop in a few, but you'd been idly watching the clouds move above your head for a good ten minutes. as beautiful as it was, it wasn't much of an experience without your grump of a friend himself.

content with watching the stars alone, megumi had finally decided to show himself, climbing up from the ladder attached to the roof of the house and pulling himself up through the ceiling window to meet you. he crawled his way over, explaining his absence.

"dad needed me to hide the broken vase from mom."

your brows knitted themselves together. "the china one?"

"yeah," he nodded, sitting next to you and hanging his elbows off of his bent knees. "i didn't help him."

"i didn't think you would," you admitted with a laugh. "wasn't it the fonthill dragon jar? the one sold for twelve milli—"

"— million dollars?" he finished off bitterly. "yeah, that's why i didn't help him."

you hummed, leaning towards him slightly to speak in hushed tones for fear of any eavesdroppers that might run off to megumi's mother and snitch.

"it wasn't a very pretty vase, though —"

"just say it's ugly —"

"— yeah it's ugly."

it was quiet then, quiet enough that if one paid close attention to the scene, the sounds of crickets may be heard. it wasn't a chilly night, hence the lack of thick sweaters on both you and megumi, but you didn't feel as warm as one would have expected. you'd been feeling this way for the past week. whatever megumi had been actively hiding from you had caused a small rift, one you weren't very fond of.

you watched him carefully out of your peripheral vision. he seemed less tense, less angry. his shoulders had drooped, as if a bunch of weights that had been accumulating on them had dropped significantly. megumi's jaw had remained tight the entire week, yet as you stared at the line leading up to his chin and mouth, you noticed how relaxed it seemed. in turn, your jaw loosened, the distance between you and him closing. perhaps whatever your friend was going through was now long forgotten, long over.

"i'm gonna tell mom about the vase," he said, breaking the tense silence as the two of you gazed up at the stars blinking down at you. the moon was full tonight.

"i expected nothing less," you replied, chuckling.

"and the earth isn't flat, dummy."

you could feel his eyes burning holes on your right cheek. you repressed the urge to burst out laughing.

at least you knew for certain, now, that megumi was okay. his consistent need to be right finally returning after its long hiatus, and though it had been extremely annoying over the last eight years, you found it rather endearing too (you'd take a bullet before admitting it to him). megumi wasn't megumi without his unshakeable personality.

"so you were listening to me after all," you stated, averting you gaze from the captivating the stars to the moon sitting next to you.

he blinked at you, bemused.

"i always listen."

and for the rest of that night, you couldn't shake off the feeling that whatever megumi had been hiding, it had something to do with you.

you were glad it was in the past now.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

2016-2017 eighth grade

mr andersen's homework had been left untouched on your desk for about two weeks (despite being given an extension because he was well aware just how bad at math you were). you were tired, exhausted, and drained: middle school was no joke. it was times like these — where some random dude decided that adding letters to the already-difficult math equations — that you felt like taking a knife and driving it clean through your heart.

you got up, a lightbulb hovering just above your head as you beamed, scrambling to take your phone out of charge and scrolling through your contact list.

— go-go-go-joe! (27 missed calls) — nobara <3 — yuji :) (1 missed call) — mother — porcupine 👺

there he was — porcupine — you clicked his number and pressed the phone to your ear, lying flat on your bed once again. it dialled for all of five seconds before you heard his grumpy voice on the other end of the line:

"what do you want?"

you sighed, putting on your theatre skills to show.

"megumi..." you groaned weakly, following that with a fake cough.

"..."

you coughed again. "megumi — ahem — i'm sick."

"sucks to be you."

you repressed the desire to start yelling at him, cursing him out due to his lack of empathy. it doesn't matter whether you were faking an illness or not — as a friend, megumi was supposed to offer help, advice, ask whether you were doing well or not. you remembered a time where his mom had to take him to therapy, concerned about his lack of feeling. it was a funny day, that was.

you tried again, coughing twice more this time.

"i think i have a — *cough* — a fever," you said, trying your best to sound as physically weak as possible. you got up, gently swiping your hair away from your face as you slowly made your way to the window. " *cough* — i can't do a-any homework today..."

"that so?" said megumi.

you nodded, almost forgetting that he couldn't see you. you draped one of your arms over your waist, the other hand still pressing your phone to your ear.

it had rained a little while ago, puddles forming by the sidewalk. the grass looked damp yet very shiny and silky beneath the weak light protruding from the sun, its very presence hiding behind the prominent clouds, thick as cotton candy.

"i just — i can't get out of bed right now — *cough* — megumi."

"yeah, must be difficult."

your lip curled. "yes! — i mean — *cough* — yes... i'm so glad you understand."

megumi responded almost immediately. such a good friend, you thought. you almost felt bad for deceiving him, but it just had to be done. perhaps if you had megumi's brains for math, none of this would be happening. so in a way, it was all his fault.

yeah, that made sense. he brought this upon himself.

"you probably can't stand up straight either," he said, and you almost let out a chuckle.

"mhm — it's so — *cough* — ugh, i hate this." you decided it was time to cage the dog. "i was thinking... erm... *cough, cough* ... maybe you could do my homework — *cough* — like last time? i'm really, really sick."

"yeah, sick to the point where you can't get out of bed —"

"yes, megumi! see — *cough* — see i knew you'd understand... you're such a great friend!"

absentmindedly, you fiddled with the fabric of your beige curtains.

"maybe you should look outside to help you feel better," he suggested.

you grinned, looking up without realising it.

"that's a good ide—"

you stopped short of yourself, met with the sight of megumi staring right through your soul from his own bedroom window. lo and behold, one of the disadvantages of living right across from your best friend.

you froze.

"you should probably use your mermaid powers and heal yourself —"

"that's not how it works!" you snapped, furious.

you stumbled, your hands immediately grabbing the curtains and circling yourself with it, hiding yourself from view. and before he could embarrass you any further (because he absolutely would, that was megumi fushiguro), you hung up, heart returning to its usual pace and eyes wide with shock.

you hurriedly unravelled yourself from the curtains and shut them closed, walking off in annoyance.

"creep," you muttered under your breath.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

fear choked you as you gasped for breath, your lungs constricting in on itself, the back of your knees burning with each stride. with every step, the voice in the back of your head encouraged you to continue, reminding you that you had to keep it up; you only countered back with the question of whether it was all worth it or not. it certainly hadn't seemed like it, with the hairs at the back of your neck sticking to your warm skin and your palms growing increasingly sweaty.

running had never been an issue for you. you quite liked it when you were a kid, enjoying such activities like playing tag or red-light-green-light or chasing megumi (that one was, perhaps, your most favourite of them all, despite megumi's disdain).

now, however, as you ran for your life, you hated every bit of it. you hated the way the air slapped at your face in your hasty strides, you hated the way the adrenaline ran beneath your skin with excitement you couldn't quite understand, and you hated the way you could barely breathe, as if a block of wood had been lodged into your throat. you couldn't remember the last time you felt this way. coach yaga had made you run laps before, but none of them were as painful as this.

and it was all satoru's fault, which no one had let him forget the entire marathon towards the airport.

"why on earth did you suggest taking a shortcut here if you were already on time?" demanded uncle ogi, the lines on his forehead becoming more and more prominent as everyone dragged their bags and belongings with them.

you'd finally entered the building after what felt like ten long and dawdling years. the summer heat had already made you feel faint and uncomfortable, and the marathon everyone had been collectively (forcefully) participating in had only made it a hundred times worse. the sticky feeling beneath your pits and arms felt like you'd just emerged from out of a pool of your own seat. your shirt stuck to your skin like glue.

megumi's dad spoke up angrily.

"he's an idiot, that's why."

you couldn't help but think that he barely looked fazed by the constant running. he only seemed to care about the lack of time everyone had to get to the airport on time.

but uncle ogi did not seem to find that a valid reason, abruptly turning to look at him with visible frustration.

"and why the hell did you fools follow him?"

maki, who was running silently in front of both you and megumi, had reached up and pulled at her father's ponytail. his head had practically snapped backwards to glare down at her.

surprised (and pleasantly amused), you stopped in your tracks, taking a moment to not only breathe, but use that breather to let out a loud laugh. megumi was not pleased by this at all; his hand that had been clasping yours for the entirety of the adventure had tightened harshly, pulling at you to snap you out of your reverie.

"stop," he said, looking dishevelled as the two of you fell straight back into your routine and sped past several strangers behind the rest of your family.

"i did," you responded cheekily, complying with each pull and tug of megumi's hand.

despite all the noise ringing in your ears, the chatter of the public the and cries of several babies, you could still hear maki's harsh voice cut through the air.

"stop fussing," she snapped. "you don't have to be here, y'know."

the lines on uncle ogi's forehead disappeared to accentuate the crease newly-formed between his brows as he glared down at her. oddly enough, you thought he seemed to be faring well with all the running, despite his old age.

"i'm the driver, smart ass!" he shot back, silencing maki as she rolled her eyes at him.

he wasn't lying: all of you had travelled in two separate cars to arrive at the airport. in your mom's car, your mom, satoru, toji, megumi's mom, tsumiki (toji's goddaughter), you and megumi had been in. in uncle ogi's car, uncle ogi, maki, mai, suguru, and mimiko and nanako (suguru's adopted daughters).

satoru had messed around with the gps in the passenger seat at some point, insisting that he knew a shortcut with such confidence, your mom had been too lazy to care about the way he'd toggled with it, brows furrowed with the tip of his tongue poking out of the side of his smooth lips. uncle ogi had been following your mom's car, so collectively, everyone ended up being late.

uncle ogi wasn't done there though, his gaze hardening even further before he added his final comment. "and what did i say about pulling my hair?"

maki turned to you and scowled when you kept the smile plastered over your face.

"you wait till we get home —"

"ogi stop threatening maki!" megumi's mom called out from ahead, her voice faint yet every bit demanding.

your legs had long since given up on their own. each movement they made only felt like someone had sent multiple bullets to drive themselves into you, tiring you out and evoking so much pain from you. you couldn't go on any longer, not with the feeling of your shirt practically suffocating you amongst the heat of the crowded airport. you ached to feel some cool air brush against your warm skin, however, the longer you continued to run, the less likely that would ever happen.

you raised your head slightly, chest heaving as you eyed the muscled back belonging to none other than toji himself. your left hand, feeling too warm in megumi's, had been released from its gentle shackles when megumi immediately stepped away from you, almost as if he practically sensed the exact thought you had in mind. you didn't complain, bending your knees (ignoring the momentary burning sensation it brought you) and jumping up, arms gripping onto toji's broad shoulders, ignoring his surprised grunting and struggling as you adjusted your hold on him.

"that's better," you sighed, grip iron-like as he shook himself in a failed attempt to throw you off. to someone watching from afar, they probably thought he looked like a dog.

"get off me, gremlin —"

"it wouldn't kill you to hold her for a bit," said megumi's mom, and that in itself was enough to silence toji. he begrudgingly jogged with you on his back, making no attempt to hold onto your legs as he dragged his — and his wife's — suitcases along.

your mom looked back, no longer running and now confused at the statement before seeing your face hidden in the tall man's shoulders. she sighed.

"y/n, get off of—" she began, before turning away and catching up to suguru, who was running beside his best friend whilst carrying nanako and mimiko, each girl under each arm. "ugh, i tried to care."

jumping onto toji's hard back was probably the best idea you came up with all day. looking down at everyone made you feel superior. the fact that you no longer needed to run along with everyone made you feel superior. the burning at the back of your knees had started to dim, and simultaneously, your heart beat had slowly started to return back down to its normal pace. however, now there was a slight strain in your arms, curtesy of toji being completely unhelpful in keeping you propped up on him, forcing you to hold onto him with all your might. though you'd still argue that this was far better than all that dreadful and tiring running.

you surveyed everything else around you, watching it all pass by in a blur: you could barely tell that the blue waiting seats were, indeed, blue waiting seats with how fast toji seemed to be sprinting. once at the back of the group, now you were nearly at the front, and through it all, megumi still seemed to be at your side, considerably shorter than you were used to.

you laughed, kicking his side with your foot.

"i'm taller than you now, porcupine!"

you couldn't tell whether he was scowling or not, but you'd bet your life that he was.

"normalcy has been restored," you sighed dreamily.

"hey, which gate?" asked megumi's mom, her hands bare and empty since her husband silently offered to carry her things. that was before this entire predicament. you imagined that he definitely regretted that now.

you couldn't see satoru's face, only met with the sight of the back of his head, but you heard him well nonetheless.

"terminal four," he'd answered, and even suguru stared at him in bewilderment.

"yeah, we know that," said toji, already frustrated as it was. "what gate?"

silence only followed after that. satoru's dark haired companion turned back once more with a scowl, gently lowering his two girls back to their feet despite their obvious discontent.

"for fu— he doesn't know what gate," he stated, annoyed. he then shoved the white-haired male. "give me back our tickets —"

"what?" satoru riposted, shocked and angry though he had no right to be. "why?"

suguru looked like he wanted to throttle him. "'cause you can't be trusted, idiot!"

everyone had stopped running by this point, meaning that there was no use for you to be held up by toji's useful back. he seemed to acknowledge this as the adults began to argue, shaking you off with more force than prior. you got the message, hopping down from your personal vehicle and stumbling into megumi's side. the boy held onto your arms to stop you from falling, and you pushed him away in thanks.

"the hell?" he questioned lowly.

you shrugged, observing the adults with a look of mild curiosity.

"does that mean you'll miss your flight?" you commented briefly.

"this is so embarrassing," mai added lowly, turning away from the unhinged people that were your family. "why did we even have to come along if we're not the ones leaving?"

"to say goodbye," you responded, as though it were the most obvious thing on the planet.

there were a lot of things you liked about mai, but equally, a lot of things you also disliked about her too. how entitled she acted, how rude she could sometimes be, how maki was just all around the better twin, though you never admitted this out loud. though your silence did speak volumes, even if you didn't know it.

"we'll see them again in a few weeks," she said airily. "how long are you staying there, megumi?"

he shrugged. you didn't think he was too fond her either. although, megumi didn't really like anyone, so that wasn't a fair argument. when this entire trip had been planned, the main issue he had was the fact that the only people that would be going that are his age are mimiko and nanako, and over the years, there was this unspoken competition between satoru's kids (you and megumi) and suguru's kids (mimiko and nanako). as amusing as it was to the adults, megumi took it quite seriously. he didn't think he could deal with them on his own.

you weren't accompanying him on this trip: it would be just him, satoru, his mom and dad, tsumiki, suguru, and mimiko and nanako.

he wouldn't communicate it to you, he wouldn't even text it to you, but he didn't think it'd be very enjoyable without you.

for one, he would have to deal with satoru's constant teasing all on his own (on the very rare occasion that you'd argue against satoru, you were quite helpful). he would be forced to interact with the twins on his own by his mother (usually his mom made the both of you do that, together). there were multiple other things he'd have to do alone on this trip. none of them would be as... dare he think... exciting as hanging out with you.

even throughout all of that, he was beyond grateful that he at least had tsumiki tagging along with him.

it still wouldn't be the same without you since you and tsumiki were not alike. though you were both kind hearted and held very highly in megumi's good graces, tsumiki was an entire grade older than the two of you and held this motherly nature around her despite it. she was, in better terms, like the sister he never had.

"maybe you won't be separated from us after all, porcupine," you said, gesturing to the adults that were still arguing (suguru had satoru in a headlock somehow, when did that happen?).

"yeah, you'll just miss your flight," added maki, nudging your side. that was probably her biggest way of showing affection. you'll take it.

you watched the scene unfold before you: toji and satoru were absolutely ripping each other apart with insults thrown back and forth. megumi's mom seemed to be the one trying to calm things down with the aid of suguru who usually never sided with toji on anything, but seemed to have no choice but to. all the while, uncle ogi was taking up his anger with your mom, who seemed to only care about leaving this place sooner rather than later.

"i'll sit on you," toji had threatened, fist raised at the blue-eyed male.

satoru stood up straight, head to head with him in response.

"yeah?" he challenged, smug. "so what, you're saying you're fat then? is that it?"

toji recoiled. if you squinted your eyes hard enough, you would probably spot the smoke flying out of his ears.

"what?" he demanded, voice carrying around the area.

"hey y/n!" satoru had randomly yelled, addressing you but his eyes refusing to leave toji's.

you froze, unsure of whether you liked where this was going. you had half a mind to step behind megumi and use his tall frame to conceal yourself. knowing your friend, you knew he'd probably be a traitor and step away from you instead.

"y/n! he said he's fat! did you hear that?"

you wanted to jump into a hole and just lay there as time went on and as the world moved on. nothing was more embarrassing to you than that horrific time where you truly believed that toji fushiguro was a 'fat man'. praying daily for everyone to forget that ever happened was deemed useless now that the issue arose again.

"i will sit on you, gojo," toji threatened again, eyes narrowed. "i will do it—"

"okay fatty!" sang satoru, speaking over toji's threats. "fatty, fatty, fatty, fatty—"

"— i'll sit on you —"

"— fatty, fatty, fatty —"

"satoru stop it, you're causing a scene!" megumi's mom ordered, voice harsh and authoritative.

he went as far as placing his hands over his ears to block everyone else out while he continued to sing the words 'fatty' repetitively. your mom stepped away from the scene, looking very much sheepish and uncomfortable.

toji glared at suguru, raising a pointer finger at him as satoru continued to sing. "you better tell him to stop it right now or i'll squash him like a bug!"

suguru's eyes widened, both shocked and angry. "the hell am i supposed to do about it?"

"oi!" interrupted uncle ogi, gripping satoru by the ear and twisting.

the singing had stopped, though the commotion hadn't.

"ow, ow, ow!" whined satoru, his head being pulled down to uncle ogi's height with each twist of his ear.

the whole ordeal had grabbed the attention of passersby, and several of them at that. a lot of the lines were empty due to the late arrival of the family, however, for the strangers that had stayed behind for whatever reasons, each of them seemed very invested in the drama unfolding before you.

maki and mai had both stepped forward to calm the arguing, though it only proved useless when it started intensifying at their involvement. you and megumi approached tsumiki, still glancing at the rest of your chaotic family with critical expressions.

"i'll miss you guys," you said thoughtfully, and you meant it even if you didn't mention it much. you would never say that to one person alone, tsumiki's mere presence brought you the comfort needed to express your thoughts with a little more freedom.

"we'll miss you too," tsumiki quickly added, briefly glancing at megumi. "won't we?"

"no."

tsumiki smiled nonetheless. "he's lying."

you smiled. "i know. megumi's the biggest liar ever —"

"look who's talking," he scoffed sourly.

you and tsumiki both ignored him as though he hadn't said anything insulting at all.

"i don't think you'll be missing this though," she continued, amusement clear in her soft voice as she regarded the loud argument.

with toji threatening to kill satoru, satoru came up with a very unique rebuttal:

"see this?" he said loudly, lifting up his phone, the latest model. he turned it over so the back of his phone was presented to the angry man. he jammed a pointer finger at the flawed apple. "i'll turn you into that, yeah? i'll turn you into an apple —"

"why you little —"

to make matter's worse, a security guard had stalked over, smaller in height yet bulky enough to make up for it.

"hey! what's going on here?"

"oh — no — they're family," said your mom, finally walking back to the group to ease tensions.

satoru turned away with a scoff.

"i'm not related to that pumbaa look-alike," he'd snapped, jamming his sunglasses further up his nose.

toji stood up straighter. "yeah i'm not too crazy about being related to skinny santa over there either."

satoru's jaw dropped, his hand enclosed around the bottom of his hoodie. he lifted it up despite the protests from around him.

"you wish you had these abs —"

uncle ogi slapped the back of his head. "put it back down you damn harlot —"

tsumiki laughed behind her hands, only forcing megumi to somewhat scold her for her amusement.

"it's not funny," he said, frowning. "they're being dumb."

"yeah you're right, megumi," she agreed, too quickly. you caught the knowing look she sent you once he turned his head to look back at the scene. "they're being very dumb."

tsumiki didn't wait for megumi to catch on to her teasing, walking off towards maki and mai to observe the argument from a closer distance. her low pony tail swung itself left and right as she walked, her hair shining under the different lighting.

it didn't take long before the argument had ceased to exist: suguru examined the tickets thoroughly (after quite the argument with satoru to get them off of him to begin with) and even approached a person of higher knowledge to help everyone with finding the correct gate and so on. it only meant one thing for you: the time for you and half of the family to part ways had caught up to you all.

you hadn't expected your goodbye to be so rushed when megumi's mother called the two of you over and nearly broke all the bones in your body after wrapping her arms around you. you didn't get much time to breathe before you found yourself squeezed against satoru's side in a one-armed hug.

"aw, don't cry, y/n —"

you looked up at him, raising a brow. "i'm literally not even —"

"it's fine, i'll be back in a few weeks!"

you shoved him away. "just get away from me."

suguru seemed to be the only normal person, hugging you briefly before rubbing the top of your head affectionately.

his daughters didn't get the same treatment you gave him. instead, you urged them to come closer and gave your request in hushed tones.

"take as many ugly pictures of megumi as you can."

before they could question you, everyone was called over to cross the gate for the flight.

that was it, then, you realised, as the twins hurried over to follow their dad. you wouldn't be with everyone for the next three to four weeks. everything was going too fast — megumi's parents had already crossed the gate, along with tsumiki who was closely followed by suguru and his kids. uncle ogi, your mom, maki and mai had all stepped back to watch them leave.

though they'd be back after the four weeks, it only just hit you like a whiplash how different your summer would be. you spent most of your time with megumi, and if not with him, then with the rest of this family, coming up with crazy adventures that even yuji and nobara would tag along with. the friday night dinners that was a weekly routine for everyone would be abolished temporarily, because they were always held at satoru's place and he'd be gone on this vacation.

tsumiki wouldn't be able to help you with your homework (or rather, do it herself) when megumi would refuse to over the phone. you wouldn't be able to gossip with megumi's mom as often either, nor bother megumi's dad in your free time with satoru.

you could hardly turn around to find megumi before you stumbled back at how close he'd randomly appeared behind you.

"don't miss me too much," you said, to cover up how he practically scared your soul out of your body a second ago.

"don't blow up my phone," he shot back, a small jab at how even the distance between your homes was too far for you, resulting in the spamming of his phone with memes and random texts.

your shoulders dropped with a sigh.

"i'm going to miss you," you said at last, and if it wasn't going to be him, you'd break the ice yourself and cut to the chase.

megumi's lips parted as if to say something back. you didn't wait for his response, stepping forward and doing something you'd never actually done before:

you hugged him.

and it didn't feel forced. it certainly didn't feel awkward. megumi, despite his cold exterior, held this warmth around him that you felt touch your skin when your arms wrapped around his neck and you stood on the tips of your toes to be able to rest your chin on his shoulder. if you'd known this earlier, perhaps there would have been several hugs that would have happened sooner.

relishing in the feeling of his presence felt good just as much as it felt bittersweet. it wasn't as though you'd never see him again, you knew that he'd be back; it was the fact that since you met him several years ago, you unknowingly lost the ability to function without him.

it felt stupid to even think about. you were certain he didn't feel the same way — you didn't really care much if that was true.

your porcupine would probably grow another few inches over the weeks he'd be away from you, and you wouldn't be able to fuss and throw a tantrum about it in his presence.

megumi's hands had remained motionless for the next few seconds, seemingly confused about their position. you felt the gentle touch of his hands just above your waist and nearly laughed at his hesitation. you had half a mind to tease him about it, but felt that time (or lack thereof) was on his side.

"you better bring back lots of candy," you said, smiling into his shoulder. "the kind that we don't have here, okay?"

"you'll get a cavity," you heard him murmur.

you grinned.

"we'll get a cavity," you corrected, pulling away and staring up at him with wide eyes. "you'll be eating them with me, porcupine."

he raised a hand and flicked your forehead. you expected it. you let him do it (and that would be the first and last time you'd ever allow it to happen). when he muttered 'dumb mermaid' under his breath, you didn't step on his foot or pull his hair or even twist his ear. although the voice at the back of your head encouraged you to cause a scene, you thought that your family had already caused enough damage and drama. the security guard's face in the corner of the room told you exactly how exasperating that already was. there was no need to make his job even harder than it already was.

you stepped aside as a silent opening for megumi to finally leave. he made his way towards the gate, carrying his suitcase with him.

"megumi," you called out to him.

he looked over at you without hesitation, cheeks slightly pink. you couldn't blame him, the summer heat was almost unbearable.

you scratched the back of your neck.

"can you just hurry up and go? i'm getting this intrusive thought about going past the gate."

he scowled at you. he didn't know why he expected anything different.

"you can't."

"exactly," you said, as though it were the most clearest thing. "but i absolutely will —"

"m/n —" he said calmly, your mother immediately responding by wrapping her arms around your neck from behind you.

"go on, megumi," she told him.

he joined satoru, who had been waiting for him to finish his goodbye session with you, silent throughout it all. it was odd for his character, really. satoru was the loudest and most disruptive person you knew yet he never once intervened with your conversation with megumi. or maybe he was just distracted with the picture of that pretty woman on his phone, who knows?

"you were taking years," you heard satoru tell his godson. "i think my whites were starting to turn into greys —"

there was a pause as satoru peered down at megumi, his glasses easily sliding down the bridge of his nose as he tilted his head.

"hey," he began, with innocent curiosity, "why are you so red?"

"shut up i'm hot," megumi snapped back, awfully defensive.

satoru's brows furrowed. he was used to megumi's bites. he found it all too amusing, enough for him to force it out of him on purpose. he knew he was successful when megumi would resort to barking at the height of his anger... however, this time, he was barely trying to aggravate him. this came as a surprise.

but when satoru thought about it — really thought about it — he found it as satisfying as putting the two final pieces of a puzzle together, as amusing as the click of the charging wire being pushed into his phone, as fascinating as colour co-ordinated books on a library shelf.

and he found it funny as hell.

"oh," he said at first, getting used to the idea before it really hit him, like the soccer he'd accidentally kicked into the face several years ago of a special girl he knows. "OHHH —"

"shut up," growled megumi, glaring at satoru with a sideways glance, not fully staring up at him head on like he usually would because he was embarrassed.

megumi fushiguro was actually embarrassed! what beautiful thing had satoru done in his past life to witness such a thing?

"i see now —"

megumi wanted to snap satoru's neck. "i'll hurt you," he threatened sharply.

but satoru was in his own world, grinning like a maniac and showing off his pearly whites. "megumi has a cr—"

"kfc."

satoru nearly broke down right there and then. megumi thought it served him right, meddling in business that wasn't his. teasing him about something he'd never actually thought off.

it was safe to say that satoru had remained angry at him for the rest of the flight (he even developed an attitude towards suguru, who was left utterly confused with the random change in mood from his best friend).

megumi had never loved the silent treatment more that day.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

the family returned from their vacation on a friday but were so jet lagged, they spent all of that day and the next sleeping off with no contact. it was on a special sunday that everyone had gathered at megumi's house to reunite, share gifts and experiences, and become one again. even your dad had come back from his travelling spree and brought back a ton of stuff for the rest of the family to go through.

megumi had brought over the candy he'd promised, along with a lot of other stuff he discovered over the course of the four weeks he was gone for. currently, it was being held captive by toji who was refusing to give them to you until you 'behaved' — whatever the hell that meant.

so to take your mind off of that (you planned on retrieving them later anyway) mimiko and nanako had showed you all the pictures they'd taken of megumi as promised. going through them with tsumiki and his mom by the kitchen was the funniest thing. somehow, one of the twins had managed to draw a moustache on him while he was asleep. you had a feeling that the morning after wasn't very pleasant.

but after going through everything and having lots and lots of conversations about what everyone got up to over the summer, you'd grown antsy and restless over the things toji was keeping from you.

enough was enough.

"can i have my gifts now?" you said, eyeing the possessive hand he'd placed over your box of unknown things.

he regarded you with a look of annoyance.

"no," he answered coldly.

"why not?" you whined, desperate.

he was sporting a glass of alcohol. perhaps he was just drunk and taking whatever anger he'd gotten from his testosterone out on you.

"you changed your ways yet, kid?" he questioned vaguely.

you looked around, clueless and in shock. why was no one coming to your aid? couldn't they see how unjust and odd this was? what the hell was he even talking about?

"what does that even mean?" you said loudly, gaining the attention of the rest of the family around you.

"you're not getting anything till you start fixing that attitude, brat," he decided, firm. "looks like you never will though, so you'll get it when pigs fly."

you tilted your head at him, mildly confused.

"but you just got off a plane two days ago."

every bit of chatter had died down, silence radiating around the large room. someone could drop a pin on the floor and the sound would simply echo tumultuously. even mimiko and nanako, who were both always engrossed in their phones, had glanced up to pay attention. you could only hear the sound of toji's loud breaths. when you met his gaze, you thought he looked like someone had pissed in his cereal.

there was a snort from somewhere behind you. if you had to guess, it was probably from satoru, though you wouldn't be too surprised if it actually turned out to be suguru or even mai.

stupefied, stunned, and shocked, toji lifted your gift, enclosed in messy wrapping paper, and threw it out of the window, all without ungluing his eyes from yours.

you didn't question the first action that came to your mind. running to the window to throw yourself after it, ignoring the yells of your family and the arms that had held you back once you'd made your jump — your father's, you'd noticed, when he laughed at your foolishness instead of scolding you.

everyone had turned to scolding toji instead:

"seriously, toji?" his wife said, expression grave. "did you have to go that far?"

"you know she'd go and dive after it," your mom added with a pressing look.

toji grimaced. "since when did you care about anything?"

"since my daughter nearly threw herself out of an open window with no protective gear on —"

and all the while, you lingered at the back of the room with your gift unwrapped, grimacing when satoru rubbed your head in praise for coming up with a response as 'sick as that' — his words, not yours.

the joke continued to exist, even after several months. toji never lived down the day that you had made him look a fool in front of several people. some things just never change.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

notes: spam ty in the chat rn bitches

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taglist (send an ask or comment to be added):

@1l-ynn @shaigimo @shuupiu

© tojiscrack (previously ack4rwoman)

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumblr no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

[thinkingotherwise]

Hello! I read your post about Sugishita with a talkative reader. So, could you write for Hayato Suo with a reader who's talkative? Like, she's so passionate about talking that she explains every little detail perfectly. (I'm the chatterbox of my class and I've gotten scolded many times but I'm shameless.)

With that, the reader is also stubborn af so she needs a reasonable argument otherwise she ain't gonna be convinced.

The reader loves fairness. She can't stand if anything unreasonable is happening in front of her.

Oh well actually, if you want the reader can be gender neutral. I just asked like three requests at once. 💀 If you want you don't have to do it all! <3

As an introvert, I'm in awe of every person who is talkative, or as you called them a "chatterbox" - I know I could never.

Hayato is just so fucking majestic.

Hayato Suou x Talkative! reader

You were a very passionate person, who couldn't stay in silence for longer than a few minutes. The words had just always easily flown out of your mouth and it sometimes could get you in trouble. However, your words also helped to get you and others out with their problems. Growing up it was tricky to find the perfect balance of your talkativeness and the patience of your classmates, teachers, or even neighbours.

It was a little hard to find a person that could keep up with you, or at least didn't mind your ramblings. Hayato was perfect for that. Not only did he humour you during your rant sessions, but he also effortlessly kept up with your heated discussions.

You could spend hours upon hours talking about something and when he caught the wind of those times he would prepare some tea and snacks. That would make your discussions more comfortable and you would feel like your passion for talking was encouraged.

Hayato didn't mind your ramblings finding them amusing and informative. He couldn't also fathom how you could talk so much that during your logorrhea (stream of words), you'd change topics so much. Once, you started talking about the dinner with your friends you had the day before, going through the dilemma of whether pineapple should be on pizza, and finishing with sudden fun facts about different types of paint, with many more in between. It was still a mystery how you ended up completely detached from the first thoughts you shared.

When Hayato had his agility and martial arts skills to back up his testing words, you depended only on your phrases. You were an expert, and could easily out-talk anyone that started an argument with you. Your boyfriend thought it was pretty amazing how you could stand up to anyone with only words.

You used your talent for talking also to stand up for others, not being fond of some people putting down others thinking they were above them. "Excuse me, but it's not what I wanted." You heard a voice from your side from a woman, that previously stood in front of you in the queue. You were in the cafe with Hayato in the middle of ordering some desserts for yourself when she cut in and pushed you to the side. "I'm sorry, but that's what you ordered, Miss." The cashier said trying to be calm about the situation. "No, I wanted it with more milk and not this poor excuse of milk but the oat milk." She articulate it even more smashing the cup on the counter and spilling it. "I'm sorry Miss but you didn't inform us about it when taking the order, we confirmed it with you and you didn't say anything about the different type of milk you'd like to use. If you want we can-" The cashier said starting to get nervous as she fiddled with her fingers.

Your eyes widened when the fussing woman cut off not even listening to the barista. You were boiling all over and Hayato seeing that placed his hand around your waist and moved it in circles trying to calm you down before you could join the argument. "Of course, I did, you're just not listening to me. If you can't do your job correctly, then I don't know why you're still working here." The woman continued pushing the cup over the counter and into the cashier. "Miss, please listen-" "I'm not listening to someone so incompetent like-" She cut off the employee again and you had enough.

You pushed away from Hayato and heard him sighing in amusement as he knew what was about to happen. "Okay, that's enough." Your voice cut in firmly and the woman looked at you scowling. "Miss, you're clearly out of it, if you think you can be mean like that to someone who's working harder than you." "What? You're such disrespectful little-" You didn't let her finish just like she did with the cashier and continued on your own. "It's a fact that I can tell even without knowing more about you than what you've just shown everyone here. I was after you in the queue, I heard what you ordered, and now that told the barista she got your order wrong, and even doing such a thing." You motioned to the employee who tried to wipe the counter and her uniform from the spilled drink.

"You're the more disrespectful one. And I beseech you to shut your mouth and think twice before trying to make someone's life miserable just because your is." You finished with fire in your eyes making the woman frown and gasp at your rant. "OMG! I can't stand someone like that." She said waving her arms around before turning away and leaving the place. You sighed and felt Hayato moving towards you and moving his arms around you trying to calm you down. You showed your claws and he had a wide grin on his face, proud of you for standing up for someone else.

Tags: @misticbullet

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“Where would be the fun in telling you the whole story?” the villain asked. They leaned forward in their chair, handcuffs rattling. “C’mon, you’re clever. Surprise me.”

“I know you’ve murdered a supervillain. An incredibly powerful non-human being. Someone, well, something I’ve been chasing after for years.” The hero crossed their arms in front of their chest. Was it really that easy? An entire threat being reduced to nothing because of the villain? “People might start calling you a hero.”

“A hero? Would that make me your what? Partner?”

“Well, right now you’re under investigation for murder. Even if it’s a supervillain, it’s still a crime.” The hero couldn’t wrap their head around why the villain would kill an ally that easily. It wasn’t like the villain was a particularly active one. More or less, they were like a puppet master, controlling other people from behind the scenes. That was dangerous enough in itself but the villain being active, being a threat instead of controlling the threads was even more worrying.

“You are the one who questioned the supervillain’s humanity just now. They’re something, not someone,” the villain pointed out.

That was foul. Using the hero’s words against them wasn’t new but both of them were fully aware of the contradiction here — was it wrong to kill a bad person? And was it right to get convicted for that?

“Is that a confession?”

The villain cocked their head, smirking even.

“You tell me. Is that enough to lock me up?”

“The evidence speaks for itself.”

“You’re drawing conclusions based on assumptions,” the villain argued. “And after all, they were a friend of mine. Why on earth should I kill someone who’s my friend?”

Indeed, the motive was the only inexplicable part in all of this.

“We have found samples of your DNA at the crime scene.”

“The victim and I used to meet there quite often to discuss work. You can ask my employees, I have a perfect record of my whereabouts for the last few months.” They looked the hero up and down, as if this was a date instead of an interrogation. They smiled when the hero’s eyes met theirs.

“You have bruises on your arms,” the hero pointed out. “The…victim was struggling before they died. There was quite the fight.”

Suddenly, the villain didn’t look as amused as before.

“You have bruises on your arms as well,” they said.

The hero blushed.

Unfortunately, a week ago the hero had actually attempted to take down the supervillain. They’d been beaten to a horrific degree and only thanks to modern medicine, they were walking and breathing.

Two days ago, some of the supervillain’s henchmen had “visited” the hero to make sure they’d gotten the message. They were still limping, refusing to go back to their medic again.

“My bruises are from practice. You can ask my martial arts teacher, I was with him yesterday.” They eyed the hero’s bruises, so the hero pushed down their sleeves.

The hero sighed.

“I’m sure all your ‘employees’ and your ‘martial arts teacher’ are in on this?” The hero closed their eyes, letting their hand go over their face a couple of times. “I know it was you. But…why? I’m a good detective. I will get more evidence. And I will most certainly figure out why you did it.”

The villain stared at them, their interest focused on the index finger the hero was holding up. They looked up at the hero eventually.

“Don’t break your pretty little head thinking too much about it, hm?”

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The art of storytelling Act1

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“For you to pass this class you must tell me a story.”

The class chuckled at the teacher’s words but ceased as they saw the serious look on his face.

Araganath clasped his fingers as he looked at his students; the tips of his talons clicking against each other while his spider like eyes passed over the room. He was the only A’thulion at the institute and he used that to give himself an appearance of mystique. Students parted when he walked across the ceilings of halls even though he was well above them, dropped their discussions to hushed whispers as he approached, and most importantly to him lined up in droves to sign up for his class on “The Structure of Galactic Literature”.

The last bit he was rather fond of as not only did it insure his tenure but also hefted him a small bonus for each student that attended.

“What does the story have to be about?”

Araganath shrugged and waved his hands dismissively. “Any subject or theme is open; your main goal is to make me feel something. Do this and I will give you a passing grade for the entire year and you needn’t show up for another class; fail, and you will attend my class and learn the proper means of literary structure.”

This brought the desired bouts and whoops of excitement from his students as they prepared themselves for the challenge. Araganath smiled at this as he was about to deliver the “curve ball”, as they say.

“One last thing,” Araganath spoke as if just remembering, “you must tell me the story now; without any preparation or planning.”

The joyous smiles quickly faded from the students faces as they realized the trap he had laid. Many could no doubt tell a fantastical tale given enough time, but to give one on the spot? Many lacked the sharp wit and clarity of mind to concoct such a tale.

Motioned forward one at a time, the brave few that tried their luck were founding lacking.

“What good is a story if your character never faces any true peril? My offspring could do far better than that twaddle.”

“A sentient asteroid that loves to eat spaceships? Do I look like a child to you? Is this what you think entertains me?”

“Putting aside the fact you just made a justification for genocide, I will have you stay after class so we can have a word with the school director.”

Attempt after attempt was made and yet none could win over their unenthused teacher. His dozen eyes watched each as they spun their yarn and closed shut with disappointment. He never made them stop their story, he was fair enough to let them finish in their last chance to win him over, yet even with that extra rope all they did was hang themselves with one dimensional characters, painfully simplistic plot lines, and dreadful endings that left more answers than questions.

After about an hour only one potential challenger remained and stepped forward; a human transfer student by the name of Brian Craw.

 “This story is called “The wish and the snail”.” They began.

Araganath stifled a scoff but said nothing else as the student continued.

“In the far of desert of my homeworld called Earth some twenty thousand years ago, a man stumbled upon an ancient tomb filled with but a single treasure; a strange lamp of the purest gold resting atop a lone podium.”  

“The man went to the lamp and picked it up and rubbed it to make it shine when a gout of smoke emerged from the end. Falling backwards in surprise the man saw the smoke take form into the shape of a mighty Genie!”

“What is a Genie?” Araganath inquired.

“A being of immense magical power from my people’s folklore capable of granting any wish but at a terrible and often unforeseen cost.”

Araganath nodded for the student to continue now that his confusion had been dissipated.

“”Name any wish and I shall grant it!” the Genie spoke loudly. The man paused and thought about his options. He could wish to be free from this dessert, but he felt he could find his own way out if given another day. He could wish to be the richest man on the planet, but he could not carry his riches out of the dessert alone and if he brought others back there was no guarantee that they would not betray him.”

“Finally after much deliberating the man said “I wish to be immortal; to never feel pain or harm, to never age or feel the ravages of time, and to be free to live my life as I am now.”

“A great tempest swept into the tomb and surrounded the man in a vortex of thrashing winds. “YOUR WISH IS GRANTED” the genie boomed as an unearthly glow consumed the man. When the winds finally died down the man opened his eyes and felt as if he was a god. “You will be immortal till the end of time itself so long as your conditions are met.” “

“”Conditions?” the man asked.” The student said in a thick accent, ”What conditions?””

  “The genie pointed down to the ground in front of the man and now before him was a small snail. “You will remain immortal so long as this snail does not touch you.” The genie’s voice boomed. “It is immune from harm and like you is immortal. It will forever know where you are at any given time and always be seeking to touch you.””

“”That is all?” the man laughed. “I have nothing to fear then.””

“With that said the man climbed out of the tomb and looked out over the dry dessert. He took a moment look back down but could not see the genie anymore, only the snail slowly following after him.”

“This is your story?” Araganath inquired. “I would hardly call this a tale worthy of a free pass.”

“Because we have only finished act 1.” The student countered and

[chaengluva]

Someone Gets Hurt

Regina George x Fem!Reader: 2.2k words: Masterlist

———————————————————————————

Regina George. Someone that everyone was forced to love. She had every thing, every girl wanted to be with her and every guy wanted to be with her. Everyone was obsessed with her lifestyle, I mean, how could you not be? Well everyone loved her except for three people in the school who are known as the "Art freaks" When they're three really sweet people. Janis, Damien, and Y/n, which just so happens to be you. The three of you had each other and that's all you needed.

It was currently lunch, the three of you wished that it could be home time already, especially you. Your next class was history, and guess who was in your class, Regina George. She made your whole class a bad experience, you knew she didn't like Janis and she knew that you were friends with Janis, so during history class, you were her main target. Not trying to think of that you decided to think of the positives.

"We should do something after school." Janis says, you nod, smiling, the both of you look at Damien. "Come on, we all know that I have no life, of course I'll come." The three of you smiled at each other. The bell rung, you rolled your eyes, sighing. Damien and Janis looked over at you, feeling (Very) bad for you. You walked into history class, you sat at the front, pulled out your books and waited for the teacher to show up.

Regina walked into class, the clicking of her heels echoed the class. She walked to the back of the class and sat down in the. The teacher came in a little later. "So, today we will be staring a project, you will be in partners." The whole class started rambling. "I've already chosen who you will be with.." The class groaned. The teacher started to name everyone's partners, she them came to the last two girls in the class. "Regina and Y/n, You will start now, this is due in 3 weeks."

You look over at Regina, looking to see if she will come over to your table but you don't see her coming, you decide to walk over to her, sitting down. She looks over at you with her usual resting bitch face. "Look if you don't want to do this, I can do it all-" you start to say but she cuts you off, "You think I'm too dumb to do this project?" She asks. She left you speech less. "That's not what I meant.." She rolled her eyes, "You art freaks never think, meet at my place at 6pm."

she wrote her address down on a piece of paper for you, handing it to you, she sat back down, you sat next to her and started to discuss what to do the project on, you could pick any historical event, but the two of you couldn't agree on anything, it was annoying how she would deny every single idea you would come up with, it was like she didn't even ant to do it. The bell rang and she quickly got up. You got up slowing wanting to find Janis and Damien. They can tell you look annoyed, but they think that Regina was just being her usual self.

"I'm partners with her for a project." The both of then sigh and rub your back giving you some comfort. "Wait.. that means you're going to her house.." Janis says  you nod and she smirks, she has one of her perfect ideas. "You could find things.. to use against her." You smile, taking down Regina George, that would feel so good. You, Janis and Damien come of with a plan on how you will take her down.

The bell rang, it was home time, 3 hours until you had to go to Regina's place. You went home and wore a short skirt and a crop top and did you make up nicely. You drive over to her house, garbing your books, you walk up the stairs and knock on her door, there was no answer, you knock again. Regina opens the door, she was wearing a black tank top and grey sweet pants, she also had a purple lace bra on.

"Hey." She said loudly, grabbing your attention, "My eyes are up here." Regina snapped her fingers, you look up at her, and walk into her house, admiring the look of it. "Have you had dinner?" She asks. You shake your head, "Great, my mum is making dinner." She starts walking up the stairs and you follow her, you look around the room, finding any thing that you could use against her.

"You know, when you make a secret plan in the middle of the school hallways, keep your voice down." Regina tells you. "What do you mean?" You ask, pretending to have no idea what she is talking about, she giggles. "Oh come on, don't act dumb you know what I mean." She says, you feel scared just by listing to the tone in her voice, she is so fucking scary. "You wanna take me down?" She asked, smirking because she already knew you answer.

"N-no." You try to lie, gaslighting her into believing she made the whole thing up, she stepped closer to you, you backed away every step she took towards you, until your back hit against the wall. "Don't lie to me, I heard the whole conversation." You looked down, there was no getting out of this. She pulled your chin up, making you look into her eyes, "Now you're going to listen to me, you know it will be a lot easier for me to ruin your life then for you to ruin mine." Regina says, staring into your eyes with her strong gaze.

"We are going to make out in secret, and you won't tell anyone one a thing, got it?" You eyes went wide, you were so shocked by what she said, so lost in your thoughts you didn't realise that you have already been pushed onto the mattress, Regina pulls away from the kiss for the first time in a way, "I see the way you look at me, god, your obsessed with me." she rolls her eyes laughing, you look down, embarrassed, "Don't be embarrassed, I'm obsessed with you too." With that, she leans back into the heated kiss.

It's been weeks and every time you would go to Regina's house you would spend half the time doing the history project, and the other half under her. Every time she was kissing you, you did feel slightly guilty. Thinking about all the things that Regina did to Janis, but it's extremely hard thinking of that when the only thing you can focus on is being pushed up against the wall by Regina. She leaned in closer, making sure that your bodies were close to each other, she picked you up and placed you on the small bench that was in the tight room.

She stood in between your legs to be closer to you, she loved to touch your body, she also loved the taste of your lip against hers. She bit your lip, shoving her touch inside your mouth, she held one hand on your cheeks and the other one was resting on your waist. You have been kissing for over 30 minutes, you both had a free period first class so you decided this was the best way to spend your time.

She started to undo your shirt, once all the buttons were undone, she took it off and pulled away to look at you in your pink lace bra. She lunged back in, kissing your lips more passionately, her hands were in your hair now and your hands were in hers, she started to undo your jeans but the bell rang, it was time for class. Regina sighed, grabbing your shirt and putting it back on you. Fixing her own hair and make up before fixing yours. She kissed your lips softly. "You coming to my house tonight?" Regina arts with some hopefulness in her voice.

"No, I have an art show tonight." You say sadly. Regina looks down, "Do you have a spare ticket? Maybe I could come?" She asks. You look at her very confused, "You would want to come?" She giggles. "If I wasn't closeted I would love to show you off, I hope you understand that I'm just not ready." You nod, your not exactly ready either, you hate to thinking what would Janis and Damien do if they found out that you are secretly dating the girl that made Janis' life a living hell.

You head off to art class, walking in and you sit down next to Janis and Damien, they both give you a smile. "Have you found anything we could use against her yet." She asks, you roll your eyes, "No, we don't even study in her room and It's not like I can just go up there." Janis is very desperate to get revenge back on Regina, "Look it's been so long, the project is due next week, then I won't be going to her house anymore. Can we just, let it go?" You ask, hopefully. Janis sighs, before nodding her head.

"So, you two excited for tonight?" Damien asks the two of you, You both nod then turn your focus on your artwork, adding the finishing touches. Once it was finally done class was over and the rest of the day just felt like a blur, you were kind of nervous for the art show, you hope your art piece does well, but you also hope Janis does well.

It was now time and you began to get nervous seeing all the artworks, they were so good. Janis and Damien kept on telling you that yours was really good and they were confident that you were going to win, but you didn't think that was true. You were quite doubtful in yourself. It was time to go on stage to show of your artwork. As soon as you walk out you very shocked to see Regina in the crowd. She actually came?

You took a deep breath before telling everyone what inspired you to paint the artwork, you finally finished and looks back into the audience, the judges seemed impressed and they were writing down a lot of things, they told you to leave and you can come back when the are announcing the awards. You nod and then walk off stage, you nervously wait for everyone else to show their art works. After what felt like forever, it was now time to go back on stage to see who won.

They told that everyone did well and that it was a very hard choice, you just wanted them to get to the winners. "3rd place, we have.. Jennie." The crowd clapped as Jennie walked up to collect her award. "Second place.. Janis." Once again the crowd clapped, and Janis walked up to collect her award. "Now first place.." You looked down, just hoping that it would be you. "Lizzie!" Your hopes were crushed, Janis looks at you with an a apologetic look. As soon as they say to get off the stage, you rush to the bathroom.

You didn't notice that Regina was following behind you, you get into the bathroom and you start to let it all out. You wash you face, and once you look up you see Regina behind you. "You know I loved your artwork." She says in a sweet voice. You nod, "I just thought I'd win.." You say, barley as a whisper. She sighs, holding up your chin to pull you in for a short kiss.

As soon as your lips touch hers, the bathroom door opens. "What the fuck." You hear someone say, you nervously turn your head. To see Janis standing there, you open you mouth to say something, but she just leaves, you rush after her. "Janis! Wait!" You yell. "No! you are dating the girl who ruined my life!" Janis yells back at your, turns away and runs off. You feel Regina hug you, you put your face into her chest and start crying. "She'll come around.." Regina says, comforting you, playing with your hair.

The weekend was filled with you at Regina's place, being nervous on how it will be on Monday, Regina told you that if Janis won't let you sit with them, you can sit at Regina's table. Regina drives you to school and you take a deep breath before walking in, you look around for Janis everywhere, but you can't seem to find her. You get really nervous, she may not want to see you.

You felt a tap on your shoulder, you turn around and see Janis, she looks less angry then when you first say her. "Hey Y/n." she says in her sweet voice. "Janis... Let me explain." You start to talk but Janis cuts you off, "Its okay, I have come to realise that you're allowed to date who you want." She smiles, you pull her in for a hug. "Also Regina texted me, explaining everything." Janis whispers in your ear. "I did." Regina says, giggling.