#she didn’t tell me about her decision to combine my class’s graduation with the other programs at school

[coneygoil]

Just another day of me at work displaying my anxiety and weirdness. Now I get to hyper fixate on it all day and worry if I pissed off my boss.

[krabjoons]

omg professor... what are you doing?!?!?! [pjm]

⮕ summary: park jimin is the hottest, most popular guy at school. the only catch? he also just so happens to be your teacher.

⮕ pairing: park jimin x reader, mentions of jaebum x reader

⮕ genre: smut, university!au, pwp

⮕ word count: 12.8k

⮕ rating: 18+, nsfw

⮕ warnings: hard dom!jimin x bratty-ish sub!y/n, professor!jimin x university student! y/n (he’s 27-28 ish and she’s 21-22), fuckboy!jaebum, pussy eating, fingering, thigh riding, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk (carries the whole fic tbh), degradation, edging, dumbification, impact play (pussy + ass spanking), manhandling, humiliation, exhibitionism, creampie, teasing, praise, orgasm denial, begging, overstimulation, crying, kissing/making out, jimin’s a meanie but y/n likes it (aka i go ham on the degradation and edging you have been warned), aftercare (like 500 words of it :P)

⮕ a/n: this took too long to come out and has literally been sitting in my drafts since august but here it is! writing this was definitely a rollercoaster because this was my first smut and honestly i felt like it was really bad at times but other times i was like wtf this is so hot,, ANYWAYS, i’m glad that i’m posting it and getting over that fear of imperfection. i hope that you guys enjoy this piece :). i would also like to add that please don’t hook up with your teachers… if you do, that’s on you i take no responsibility for that whatsoever lol. excuse the title i literally have no idea what to change it to but i like it the way it is tbh LMFAOOO OK I’LL STOP RAMBLING NOW BYEEE ILY ALL

University has never been when you’ve expected. When you first graduated high school and came here, you expected your late teenage years to be filled with just as much studying as high school combined with only a few parties here and there. You didn’t expect to make as many friends as you did and certainly did not expect to be known as the girl with the high grades and even higher alcohol tolerance. No longer are you the shy Y/N L/N that walked through the entrance gates on the first day of school; you’ve changed a lot.

It was a surprise to you. With academics taking precedence much of your life, the freedom university provided you with was welcomed - perhaps a little too much. You quickly learned that polar bear shots were great to keep you in a good mood at parties and that eating mangoes before smoking gave you a better high. And, you also learned about sex.

Admittedly, the first time you had a hookup, it was awkward and messy (at least for you… it was a guy, what else were you expecting?) but with more practice, you were able to get the hang of it. You’ve found your tastes and now willingly talk about who catches your eye to your best friends, something you never thought you’d do last year. 

Speaking of who catches your eye, as of now it’s Park Jimin. A really hot guy, according to your friends, and according to you, an even better voice. When you first walked into your Applications of Economics class, you nearly spit out your Starbucks drink after you saw the astonishingly handsome man with silky black hair in a dress shirt and tie. Surprisingly formal for a university student, you thought, but you weren’t one to talk, considering your current outfit of business casual.

Only, he wasn’t a student. He was your teacher. You should’ve put the pieces together earlier but you didn’t. Let's just say a Coconut Lime Refresher is good for hangovers, and you needed one desperately (basically, you were drunk as hell the night before and were still in the process of recovering). It certainly didn’t take long before all of campus was talking about the new economics professor who was hotter than hell. Girls (and some guys) immediately tried transferring into his class, one of them being your best friend Lisa, just to get a glimpse of how attractive he was. You remember a couple of girls offering you literal cash to transfer out, but you didn’t.

A good call, thinking about it now. You’ve gotten closer with Mr. Park, although it’s nothing too special yet, the two of you are on good terms and have even hugged before (you still get giddy thinking about it). Y/N from 2 years ago would be screaming her head off at how bold you’ve gotten, but now, you can’t bring yourself to care. Park Jimin is a hot guy, and you’re pretty hot too (if you must admit), so it would only be logical if the two of you could hook up. Unsurprisingly, you’ve lost your shame, nothing but thoughts of your teacher filling your mind in your spare time. 

So here you are, another day of university, as monotonous as ever. The only highlight of your day will be the morning, where you have a class with Mr. Park. You've started changing your style a bit recently, opting for more, let’s just leave it at provocative outfits. Walking into the room, you take your usual seat in the front, closest to Mr. Park’s desk. 

The class progresses like it normally does, starting with a review of the work from the last class and a discussion about the new material. "I’m going to give you guys this last half hour of class to review the material individually if you want or you can leave early, I don’t mind. I know it's a Friday so there’s gonna be some parties around campus, if you want to prepare yourselves for that then go ahead." Your professor glances around the room, smirking at you when mentioning the parties. You flush and look away, biting your lower lip. 

You make the decision to stay in the classroom while the majority of the other students file out of the room. "I'll be available for any questions," Jimin calls out, returning to his desk across from you.

Sticking to your reputation, you get a head start on the assignment and easily work through the homework. Surprisingly, you forget about Jimin for the time being, focused on finishing your assignment so that you have as little work as possible to do after classes. You don’t notice your teacher looking at you, admiring the way you put so much effort into the things you’re passionate about. Hearing a student call his name, he gets up to help him. 

Surprisingly, Mr. Park has assigned a disturbingly low amount of homework, probably because of the upcoming weekend and maybe a pop quiz later next week (ugh). You’ve finished your work in a mere twenty minutes and are surprised to find that Jimin is not at his desk when you look up from your laptop. You turn around, looking for him, and see that he’s helping another student. Whipping out your phone, you text your best friend Lisa (who just so conveniently, also thirsts over Jimin the same way you do).

to lisa: hey i finished classwork for mr park and have like 10 minutes of free time now lol

Instantly, she responds as if she wasn’t in class. Then again, she has never been one to pay too much attention to her professors. 

from lisa: ayo talk to him 

from lisa: also save me from bio i literally cannot

Smiling slightly, you respond to her.

to lisa: i WOULD but he’s helping other students

from lisa: then be like "m- mister park, i- need help please" and use puppy eyes 

to lisa: LMFAOO PLEASE he’d be like whats wrong with you since when did you struggle in this class

to lisa: but i mean, anything to hear him talk i guess 

from lisa: god i'm so jealous you have him early so you can hear his morning voice it must be hot asf

to lisa: it is omg

from lisa: god what if he moans like that it'd be such a turn on

to lisa: dUDE STOP NO the way this is literally true like if he has a good sip of coffee or a pastry he likes hes gonna go all "mmmm I wish you could try this" pls its so fking hot

to lisa: like SIR I WANNA TRY YOU or you to try me no complaints

from lisa: wtf he finishes his breakfast before my class so i can't even hear it tf I hate it here

to lisa: u have him right after my block bro at leAST you have him 

to lisa: what ab the people who don't even have him

from lisa: idk what i'd do honestly. imagine not having a literal sex god teaching you every day i pity those who dont

You’re about to type out a response when a smooth voice sounds out from behind you, "alright guys, you’re good to go. Have a good weekend!" You jump in your seat, not realizing that your teacher was helping the student right behind you for the past five minutes. 

As the rest of the class begins to pack up, you pray that he hasn’t seen you talking about your sexual fantasies less than five feet away from him. Mr. Park doesn’t say anything, so you must be in the clear, right? You’re hoping and praying that he didn’t find out, but your heart rate is already rising and you’re getting a sick feeling in your stomach. Your gut must be trying to tell you something.

Well, your gut’s telling you that the universe must not be on your side because as soon as you stand up, he says, "Ms. L/N, can you stay a bit after class? I have a few things I want to discuss with you." Cheeks flushing hot, you squeak out a "yes, sir."

When everyone has left and it’s just the two of you left in the room, Jimin pulls up a seat next to his desk. "Sit," he commands, leaning on his desk. You scramble to your feet and walk over, mind buzzing with thoughts. Oh god, what if he tells the administration department? Then you’d definitely be punished and maybe even kicked out of the school. Maybe you could make up a story? Oh, it’s ANOTHER Park Jimin, haha. Definitely NOT my teacher. Even if you did, they could go the rest of the texts between you and Lisa and you’d be screwed. And not to be petty or anything, but being kicked out would mean that you wouldn’t be able to be in Jimin’s class anymore and wouldn’t be able to see him. Oh, and the bigger problem would be that you’d also be unable to get your degree.

You start internally panicking, heart rate picking up even when your teacher rolls up his sleeves and leans down in front of you. Stop thinking about dirty things FOR ONCE, Y/N, half of you screams, while the other half of you has already started fantasizing about things which shouldn’t be thought about, especially with one of the people in the fantasies less than a couple of feet in front of you. With his hands on his thighs, the ones you’ve thought about riding far too often, he smirks.

"So, I heard you wanna try me?"

You gulp, absolutely mortified that Jimin caught you. Yes, he was attractive, and you would do practically anything to fuck him, but you didn’t expect to be humiliated into admitting it. "Um, no sir! I mean, maybe, but not in the way you think!" you ramble. Shut up, Y/N, part of you screams. You’re only digging yourself into a deeper hole.

"Yeah, sure. Because I definitely didn’t see what you were talking about with your friend. Be honest, Y/N," he says, smirking down at you. "You think about me, don't you? I'm not new to this. I see the way girls like you look at me. I know the way they talk about me when they think I can't hear. I know the way you think. Who would've thought? Little Miss L/N, all prim and proper on the outside, would be so filthy deep down?"

"Sir, I- uh. I-" you stutter out, cheeks burning furiously hot.

"You what? You're not going to try to prove your innocence now, are you? Not when you've gotten this far, hm? Getting to do what you’ve wanted after all this time?" he asks, standing up from his desk, and walking over to you, kneeling in front of you so that you were forced to hold eye contact. 

"You know, nobody else has been as daring as you, my dear," he hums softly. "Sending promiscuous texts about their teacher in the very class they're in. Rubbing their thighs together every time their teacher catches their eye." You shift in your seat, Jimin's words sparking the slightest of fires in your core. "Gazing ever so obviously at said teacher’s dick, too. Y/N, you amaze me. So, so brilliant. yet so, so naughty. You thought that nobody else would catch onto you? Unfortunately, you thought wrong."

"I'm s- sorry sir," you whisper out.

"You're just sorry that you got caught, Y/N. You'll keep doing this even after today," Jimin chuckles lowly. "Possibly even more after today," he adds on, taking note of how his words have affected you. Your pupils are dilated and your cheeks are starting to get flushed. "Such a dirty girl. I'm here trying to scold you, and here you are, getting turned on by my words. Is this why you ask so many questions, doll? To hear my voice?"

You bite your lip in a mixture of embarrassment and nervousness, nodding imperceptibly. The logical, studious side of you is thinking, oh my god, is this really happening? Am I going to fuck my teacher? I really shouldn’t be doing this. The relaxed, easygoing side of you (pretty much your horny side) is thinking, finally, it’s happening. I’m going to FINALLY be fucking Park Jimin.

"What else have you imagined about my voice, hm? How I'd whisper into your ear while pounding into you? Hear me moan as your tight cunt clenches around my dick? Tell you how good you're making me feel? Reminding you how much of a slut you are to fuck your teacher in the middle of his classroom, where anyone could walk in?" he continues, seeing you shift in your seat more. "Would you like that?" he asks.

"Y- yes Mr. Park. I- I would," you whisper. You have to consciously clench your thighs together to keep them from spreading at his words.

"Hm, I don't believe you. Try again another time, darling," he sighs, leaning back on his knees, getting ready to stand up. You don't want this, whatever it is, to be over that quickly so you make up your mind. Swallowing your pride and succumbing to the dull throb in your panties, you pout.

"But professor, I really do want you. I want you to make me feel good and I wanna make you feel good. Please," you whine out. "I wanna be thinking about you all the time because you fucked me so well in class. And when my friends talk about wanting to get in your pants, I want to be the only one who already has. Please, Mr. Park. I need you." you breathe out. At this point, the pressure in your core is rising steadily, and only intensifies when you see the way your teacher's eyes are glazed over in lust and eyebrows are furrowed. Your eyes travel down the expanse of his face to his lips, plump and pink. Oh, the number of times you've wished to kiss them, imagined them suckling on your clit. And now that Jimin knows, perhaps it's finally coming true. 

"You'd like that, hm? God, you're so dirty," Jimin mutters, inching closer to you, cautiously placing a hand on your knee. Your legs instantly part to make room for him in between and he inches forward. "Does dirty talk really turn you on that much, Y/N? I can smell you through your panties," he remarks.

"Mr. Park, please do something," you whimper. And with that, Jimin pulls you over to his desk and sits you on the edge. You spread your legs and he stands in between them. He leans his head closer to you until he's next to your ear.

"Want me to get you off with my words? You seem to like that already and I haven't even tried, doll. Or perhaps," he pauses, bunching up your skirt so that it pools at your waist. "You want me to touch you?"

You nod eagerly, chest heaving in anticipation. "I want both Mr. Park. I want you," you purr salaciously. And with that, your teacher lets out a low growl and presses his lips onto yours harshly. It’s already bruising, but you just can’t get enough of the way he tastes of caramel and coffee and how ridiculously soft his lips are, so you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in even closer. He seems a little put off by how eager you are, but once he hears you sigh in enjoyment, he melts into your eager grasp. 

His hands start sliding down your waist so that they are resting on your upper thighs, and he rubs comforting circles into them, trailing them closer and closer to your panties. He breaks off from the kiss to look down and smirks back at you before joining his lips to yours with even more fervor and you praise yourself for deciding to wear your lace thong today. You feel his tongue slide against your lips, asking for permission to enter and your mouth immediately complies. 

The feeling of his hot breath on your lips and thumbs rubbing against the juncture of your thighs has you feeling needy for more. Jimin swirls the tip of his tongue against yours, the filthy action turning you on even more. You moan into his mouth and thread your fingers through his hair, causing him to let out a low groan.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the two of you break apart. Chest heaving up and down, you take note of your teacher's face. His lips are redder and plumper than ever before. His cheeks have the faintest blush on them. His eyes, the ones that crinkle into a happy smile whenever you answer a question correctly in class, are now clouded over with deep lust.

"Get onto all fours. On the desk," Jimin commands, and you immediately comply. Now your ass is facing Jimin and you're very nearly completely exposed to him, save the thong you're wearing.

"God, you're such a slut," Jimin moans out at the sight. "Do you get dressed up like this just so you can get fucked in class? Such a short fucking skirt that I can see whatever you're wearing underneath whenever you bend over, hm? You wanted me to give in to you, doll?" When you nod weakly, he chuckles, "I don't think so."

Arching your back so your ass sticks out even more, you whine, "professor, please fuck me. I'm so fucking horny, please." Jimin cups your pussy from outside your panties and leans over you, "I don't think so, kitten. I'm the one calling the shots here." Your pussy flutters in response and Jimin slaps it lightly, chuckling. The brief stimulation has your cunt clenching around nothing.

He spreads your knees slightly and begins trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses up your thighs to the arch of your back. Feeling his breath so close to your core has you getting wetter by the minute in anticipation. He finally hovers over your back, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, muttering, "I'm going to wreck you, Y/N", and you feel yourself clench in excitement. 

"Then do it," you whisper, and Jimin hooks his fingers around the waistband of your thong and pulls it down, so slow that it's almost painful, exposing your heat to the cool air of the classroom and causing you to shiver in response. 

You don't see it, but his eyes widen seeing the strings of your slick connecting your pussy to your panties. He takes a look at your core and his mouth starts watering. You're soaking and clenching around nothing, thighs shaking ever so slightly in anticipation.

He flattens his tongue and licks a flat stripe up your pussy, from your clit to your entrance. He pauses to suck some of your juices from it, but your cunt just keeps leaking them out. He runs his tongues through your folds over and over again until you let out a wanton moan.

Encouraged by your reaction, he hooks his arms around the side of your hips, nuzzling closer into your pussy. He laps at your cunt and purposely avoids your clit, only heightening the pressure in your core.

"Mr. Park," you whine out, pushing your hips back. "Please. More," you pant out. Suddenly, Jimin spanks your right ass cheek, rubbing his hand over the fleshy globe soothingly afterward. You let out a little yelp and turn around to catch his eyes. 

"More what?" he spits out, smiling at you evilly. "My little slut's gotta tell me what she wants. How else would I give it to her?" your mind is foggy, pleasure causing you to lose track of everything other than the man behind you. "W- want you," you garble out, "t- to play with my clit too." 

"What's the magic word, doll?" Jimin teases, breath fanning over your slit, causing your walls to clench erratically. "Please, Mr. Park," you whine, pushing your cunt closer to his face. He smirks at you, avoiding your advances. 

"Good girl," he praises before finally positioning himself just barely in front of your clit. You feel him blow cool air onto your slit, but the temperature of it is magnified even more due to how wet you are. You whine out, expressing your displeasure, and Jimin finally indulges you by taking your throbbing button between his plush lips.

"F- fuck, sir, yes! Right there, please," you squeal, back arching even more. Jimin hums, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body. You can feel yourself growing wetter, your entrance squeezing out more and more of your arousal down to where Jimin's lips are sucking. He momentarily pauses to flatten his tongue out, letting your juices drip onto them and slurping them up eagerly. The obscene noises behind you combined with the low thrum of student life just outside the classroom door mesh together to have you realize where exactly the two of you are doing this.

You glance at the clock, and your eyes widen. "Prof- oh my god, Pr- Professor Park," you moan out, trying to keep your focus. Jimin again hums, making you jolt in pleasure. "I- uh, there’s only ten minutes until the next block of classes start. I need t- to leave in around five." When Jimin releases from you with a pop, you can feel your slick running down your thighs and some dripping onto his desk. You feel a rush of excitement at the thought of everyone walking in during class to see the mess Jimin made of you on his desk and again squeeze around nothing.

"Well then," Jimin hums lazily, "guess you better cum within five minutes if you want to cum at all." He dives back into your heat, tongue skillfully running through your folds. He cycles between kitten licking and delivering harsh sucks to your clit and dipping his tongue into your entrance. You grind against his face in desperation to reach your release, and just when you finally feel it hurtling towards you at an alarming rate, suddenly, Jimin gets up.

He leans over you, trailing a hand up your slick-ridden thigh to cup your bare heat and mutters lowly in your ear, "time’s up." Your heart drops in frustration, and you whine out. Grinding into his palm, you beg for him to touch you once again, knowing nothing but how good he was making you feel just seconds ago. "Mr. P- Park, please. Make me cum," you cry out.

Jimin spanks your pussy, a wet echo sounding through the room. You jolt forward and your cunt leaks out even more of your arousal in response to the combination of pain and pleasure. "I said no," he hisses, "you couldn't cum in time, you don't deserve to cum." 

"God, look at you, you're a mess. Bent over and spread out so desperately for me. You taste so sweet, doll. So responsive, too," Jimin murmurs, lazily rubbing your slit. He's, once again, avoiding your clit and driving you insane. Your sensitive nub is now swollen and throbbing with need, slick with your arousal. 

"Has anyone touched you as well as I do, Y/N?" he asks. When you shake your head, he slaps your cunt again, another wet sound echoing through the room. "Words, baby girl," he goads, fingers dancing through your folds. 

"N- no, sir. they can’t make me feel half as good as you did. I’ve al- I’ve always been thinking about having you touch m- my cunt and making me cum really hard. and I- shit I’m so needy sir, I wanna cum," you garble out, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. You feel Jimin’s hand leave your pussy, exposing your soaked heat to the cool air of the room. Slowly, he pulls your thong up your thighs and the light touches make you clench in desperation and whine out.

He marvels at the sight of you so fucked out in front of him. The way his top student was falling apart at the slightest touches he gave you. And the words you said. God, to have you say such filthy things in comparison to your gentle demeanor, all because of him, it really did something to him.

Jimin finishes clothing you and presses a kiss to the top of your ass and walks across the room to get some tissues to clean up the mess you made. Still perched on the desk, you watch him needily, thighs rubbing together to relieve some of the pressure from being denied your orgasm. "So I really don’t get to cum?" You ask meekly, holding back a sob. "I need to cum, Mr. Park."

He chuckles, "there’s a difference between need and want, doll. You want to cum, you don't need to cum. But what you do need," he returns to you, leaning down so that his face is right in front of yours, "is to get to your next class." Your face, once eagerly lit up in anticipation, has now fallen in disappointment.

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a "fine" and get off his desk, feeling your arousal make your thighs stick together. Your panties are uncomfortably damp and you’re so wet you can even smell yourself. "Can you make me cum later?" you question Jimin, sliding closer to him and playing with his tie, praying that he’ll be the one to make you release instead of having to do it yourself when you get home.

"If you play nice I might. If not, then… we’ll see," he hums, handing you a tissue to clean yourself up while heading to wipe down his desk. "I have a lunch meeting in the second half of the lunch block, so if you really need me, I’ll be here before then." 

You grin and nod in excitement. "Cool! so I’ll-" you begin before the first students from the next class start filing in, making you jump. "The door wasn’t locked?" you whisper frantically to him. "We could have been caught, Jimin! Are you crazy?!"

He smirks at you, "didn’t you say you wanted it that way? Where anyone could walk in? I only did what you asked, doll." You’re left speechless as he continues. "Anyways, you should be in your next class pretty soon. I’ll write a note to your professor just in case you’re late. But get going, yeah? I’ll see you in time for our meeting." He hands you a slip of paper and straightens up, tossing the dirty tissues into the trash can in the corner of the room. 

"Okay class, we’re going to get started soon. I presume you all did the reading, so just prepare for the discussion we’re going to be having about it when the bell rings," he calls out to the class. Turning to face you, he questions quietly with genuine concern, "you okay? Did I push you too much for our first time?" 

Your mind swirls with thoughts. Our first time. The words fill you with giddy excitement. It’s just the two of you that know about this, the dirty things you were doing just minutes ago, very nearly getting caught. Knowing that this won’t be the only moment you guys are doing this, fills you with excitement.

"On the contrary, actually," you tease your teacher with a smile. "It was really nice honestly, but perhaps, you didn’t do enough." You bite your lip at the way Jimin's eyes darken and he looks away. "Get to class, Ms. L/N. The bell will ring any minute," he says lowly, jaw slightly clenched. Your core throbs at the sight and you head towards the door. 

"Goodbye, Mr. Park. Thank you!" you call out, catching sight of Lisa, who raises her eyebrows at you teasingly and mouths text me. Blushing, you nod at her before leaving the room to go to your next class.

Being "one of the smartest students on campus" comes with its perks. Like right now, for example. You always (somehow) come to class overprepared, so when your next teacher gives you a day to work on your project (which you've already finished), you head to the back of the room to text Lisa in private. 

from lisa: dude wtf was that you were literally talking to Mr. Park outside of ur class time with him

from lisa: omg wait don't tell me you fucked him

from lisa: did you

to lisa: NO I DID NOT OMG I wish tho lmao

to lisa: I was asking him for help on the paper he's assigning us and to proofread it and stuff before I submit it

from lisa: omg I forgot he assigned us that shit

to lisa: dude lmao its due in a week or so you have plenty of time

from lisa: ugh literally he's such a hottie why does he have to be so into teaching

to lisa: sis commitment to something is hot

from lisa: omg ur right wait a sec tho

from lisa: dude

from lisa: omg

from lisa: he definitely has a boner

Knowing that you were likely the cause of it, you shift in your seat cockily, smiling slyly to yourself while looking down.

to lisa: whAT

to lisa: wait how big is it

from lisa: ok I dont think he’s fully hard yet he's like semi hard but barely 

from lisa: LMFAO Y/N don't worry I think he’s packing seems kinda thick too

Taking in a deep breath, you look up at the ceiling. You imagine him slowly sinking into you and making you whimper at his size. Him seeing your face and growling, "if you’re really a good girl, you should be able to take it." You cross your legs tightly and rock up and down in a lame attempt to diminish the rising pressure between your thighs and look back down at your phone.

to lisa: pls thats so hot

from lisa: IKR I want him to r a i l me

to lisa: or eat me out… have you sEEN those lips of his wtf

from lisa: on god do not get me started

to lisa: pls i bet he’d be the type to tease you

Oh Lisa, if only you knew the truth behind those words.

from lisa: YES hes lowkey cocky bc he knows like the entire fucking population simps for him

from lisa: he’s def gonna make you beg to cum

to lisa: pls thats hot do not get me riled up in class istg

from lisa: too late i've already started babe ;)

You continue texting Lisa throughout the entirety of your class. Finally, you look at the clock and seeing that there are only a few more minutes till the class ends, you wrap up your conversation with her.

to lisa: hey btw i’m gonna be coming to lunch late… save me a seat at our regular spot?

from lisa: when ur best friend is a teachers pet :(( fiNE I guess I will

to lisa: love u!! xx

from lisa: love you too nerd xoxo

The bell finally rings, signaling the start of the lunch break and you immediately stand up and walk out the door, bidding your teacher goodbye and thanks.

Running into the bathroom, you do a quick check of your appearance. You tug up your skirt a bit higher and tuck in your shirt so that your outfit accentuates your curves. You glance at your face and notice how abnormally large your pupils are in comparison to most days. Jimin has completely ruined you today, just like he said he would. I'm going to wreck you, Y/N. His words echo in your ears as you make your way out to his classroom. Trying to ignore how uncomfortably wet your panties are, you knock on the door to his room. 

You hear a smooth voice answer with a, "come in," and take a deep breath before opening the door to see Jimin sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head. He scans you up and down, eyes taking in every inch of your figure. "Nice outfit alterations," he notes, patting his laps as a hint for you to sit on it. You quickly lock the door and make your way to him, placing one leg on each side of him so that you’re now straddling his thighs. "Is this all for me?" he asks and you tuck your head down, suddenly shy now that all his attention is on you again. 

"Mhm, depends on whether you like it or not" you smile timidly, hands reaching out to play with his tie again. He laughs. "Princess, I’m conflicted. You do look very nice, all dolled up for me like this. It’d be a shame if I were to ruin your efforts. But on the other hand," he remarks, "you’ve very nearly crossed the line for indecent exposure. What if another teacher caught you like this? you would get in trouble, hm? And what if it were a student to see you like this? What would they think of you then?" He questions, causing your cheeks to burn at his words.

"They would think I- that I’m a whore. I- and that I dress up like this just so I can pass my classes," you whisper out, biting your lips in a combination of excitement and humiliation. You can feel yourself start to throb again and you start to rut against Jimin’s thighs. He shifts you over so that you are sitting on only one and slightly bounces his leg. The stimulation to your neglected cunt sends a shock running through your body and you squeeze your thighs around his.

"Look at you, so fucking desperate to cum. You think that you aren’t a little whore already, so needy for me this quickly, hm? Do you really think you deserve to cum?" He hums, admiring the way you’re worked up. He pushes up your skirt and slaps your thigh just underneath your ass. You shift away as a reaction, causing your clit to get the stimulation it finally deserved. The way your underwear rubs against your neglected bundle of nerves causes you to let out a groan and drop your head to Jimin's shoulder. He spanks you this time, making you yelp. "I asked you a question, doll."

"Mmhm, yeah," you whine out, "I deserve t- to cum, sir." At this point, your hips are moving on their own accord, shifting back and forth desperately against Jimin's thigh. He grabs your waist tightly, holding you still. "Look at me," he commands, bouncing his thigh. You mewl into his shoulder, the change in motion making you lose focus. He spanks you again, the sound echoing around the room. "Listen to directions, sweetheart. Or else you’ll get punished," he warns.

You lift your head to look at Jimin, faces just inches apart. His eyes scan over your face, lingering on your lips. Slowly, you lean towards him, closing the distance between you two. He gives into your eager kiss and you glide your hands up his firm chest to run your fingers through his hair. He starts bouncing you on his thigh and you groan into his mouth. Breaking apart panting, you place your forehead against Jimin’s, moving your hips back and forth harder to increase the pressure going to your clit.

"God, Y/N, you’re so wet," Jimin pants while looking down at the way your clothed pussy drags over his thigh. "I can feel you soaking through my slacks," he says, shifting you over. just like he said, there is now a wet spot on his thigh from where you just were. Thankfully, it’s barely noticeable, but if you focus enough, you can see it.

"What are you going to do about it, hm? I have classes to teach, meetings to attend. Do you want people to see the mess you made all over me?" He hisses, spanking you to elicit an answer. "N- no, sir. I’m s- sorry," you whisper out, eyes clenched, still rutting against him. You feel your orgasm bubbling up as every second passes.

"I don't think you're sorry, doll. Look at you making a mess all over me through your panties. You're absolutely soaked, so fucking desperate to cum," he tuts, clenching his thigh muscles purposely. You gasp and shove your head into the crook of Jimin's neck, letting out a low groan.

"Mr. Park, I'm so wet because of you. I- god, I wanna cum. please. I'm so close," you mewl into him, legs starting to tighten around his thigh.

You shut your eyes, feeling your impending orgasm build up. Right when you're about to let go, Jimin holds your hips in place tightly, preventing you from moving. Squeaking out, you make an attempt to shift your pussy over his thighs. It's no use because you can feel it start to drift away slowly and you look at him in need. Tears stinging the corners of your eyes, you plead, "S- sir I need you to touch me again. Please."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Jimin smiles cockily, lifting you onto his desk and spreading your legs after stripping you of your panties. You lean back so that you face the ceiling. Your eyes roll back once you feel him take your clit into his mouth. You moan and arch your back off of the desk, thighs involuntarily clenching around his head. 

"God, Mr. Park, yes! O- oh, fuck, please," you blabber out incoherently, your mind hazy and overwhelmed with pleasure. "More," you whimper out without thinking.

Jimin disconnects from your heat to look up at you, murmuring, "Greedy little slut wants it all, huh? Won't even ask nicely for it. Tell me what you want, Y/N. Beg for it, and I might just give it to you."

"God, I- I want it all, professor," you call out, wiggling your hips in search of stimulation that never comes. "Want you to stuff me with your f- fingers and lick my p- pussy and make me cum. Want you to fuck me r- raw with your fat cock from behind and sp- and spank me. Want you to ma- make me cry from cumming so hard just as much as you have from not letting me cum. A- and I want you to leave hi- hickies on my thighs so that if I bend over, p- people are gonna know how much of a cockslut I am, just for you."

"Yeah? Well, I can tell you this," Jimin says, fingers dancing up your thigh closer to your sick-ridden core. "You are a cockslut. So fucking dirty. Most people come to class to learn but it seems that you come here to get off." He inserts a finger into you and your walls immediately clamp down on it. He moves the digit in and out of you smoothly, your arousal allowing the smoothest of motions. "You like that, baby? Finally having something in that tight cunt of yours?" You nod at his question, adding on "want more, sir."

"Not enough? Greedy little bitch. look at you, so needy. What are you gonna do when I have my cock out, hm?" He shoves a second finger into you and starts curling them into your heat. You arch your back to the ceiling and he hovers over you. For a moment, there’s nothing but the squelch of his fingers in your wet pussy and your panting as he stares into your eyes. Jimin's eyebrows are furrowed and he’s biting his lip - he’s focusing on something.

That "something" becomes apparent when, all of a sudden, you nearly sit upright and let out a loud moan of pleasure, "Fuck, Mr. Park! right there." His fingers continue rubbing that special spot inside you repeatedly and your legs start shaking ever so slightly. You look back at him to see a smug smile on his face. "I found it," he chuckles as you writhe underneath him. He leans down to kiss you, lips melding together.

He keeps fingering you, bringing his thumb up to ghost over your clit ever so slightly to provide enough pleasure to bring you close to your orgasm but just not enough to make you cum. You whine against his lips and he breaks the kiss, asking "you want to cum, doll?" to which you weakly nod. "Then fuck yourself on my fingers. Show me how much of a little slut you are for me. How you’re a cocksleeve for me, so wet and needy as soon as I touch you, so ready for me to fuck you." He stills his digits inside of you and you buck your hips on them, rolling your pelvis repeatedly in an attempt to get to your orgasm. You reach down to provide some stimulation to your clit, but he smacks it away.

"Jim- professor, it’s not enough. I- I need more, please." Tears start welling up in your eyes at the thought of not cumming for the third time. Jimin kisses your temple, the gentle action reminding you that he’s not going to do something you can’t handle. "Please, Mr. Park. I wanna cum," you whine out, hips jerking back and forth in a pathetic attempt to chase after your high.

"Show me then, Y/N. how much you want it. A good girl can show me that she wants it bad enough and will make herself come on my fingers alone. She’s not greedy. She doesn’t need to touch herself too. She just needs my fingers to cum. I know you can be a good girl,  Y/N," he goads. "Can you show me what the pretty little face of yours looks like when you cum? I bet you’ll look so beautiful, even more than you are right now, all fucked out for me."

"Hhngh, sir I- I’m trying," you pant out. "It’s just not enough. I promise I'm a good girl, I swear. Please let me cum. Oh god, I wanna cum." At this point, you’re nearly crying. You haven't ever been edged like this and are desperate for release.

Jimin sees this and purposefully retracts his hand from your cunt covered in your honeyed juices, glistening in the lights of his classroom. "Professor Park, please," you choke out weakly, chest constricting in disappointment. With a soft smile, he brings his fingers up to his mouth and cleans them off, savoring the flavor of you. 

"Be a good girl for the rest of the day and then I’ll let you cum, baby," he hums. "You promise?" you plead, holding onto his arm desperately. 

"I promise, Y/N," he kisses you gently and you taste the remnants of yourself on his tongue, the filthy action causing your clit to throb even more. Combined with the way your cunt is still clenched tight in preparation for an orgasm that won’t come soon, you can definitely say that you can't wait for the school day to come to an end.

"Go to lunch, doll. I have a meeting soon. Don’t think of me too much, hm? Gotta keep those straight A’s the way they are," Jimin teases, pulling down your skirt slowly, fingers just grazing your thighs. He grabs your panties. "Oh, and I think I'll keep these for now," he says cheekily, putting them in his pocket. "They didn’t seem to be doing their job when you were riding my thigh."

You watch him in shock, cheeks flushing red hot. "I- okay. uh, I’m going to lunch now, Jimin. Have a good lunch and meeting, I guess?" you say awkwardly, shuffling to the door with him, tugging your skirt down. 

"Jimin? We’re on a first-name basis already, Y/N? Don’t let anybody hear you call me that in class, baby," he winks, holding the door open and you nod, preoccupied with the little "situation" your skirt just barely hides. You can feel yourself still leaking down your inner thighs, and pray that nobody’s going to notice when you walk into the dining hall.

"Ugh! Bitch, what took you so long?" Lisa exclaims when you sit down next to her with your lunch. You pout. "I wasn't even gone for that long."

"Ha! That long, my ass. You were gone for more than half of the break! I had to tell Jaebum and his cronies to fuck off on my own! I’m not as intimidating when you’re not around, though, so I don’t think it worked. They’ll probably come over again soon." Lisa rolls her eyes. You snort, "One of them probably likes you, that’s why they keep bothering you."

"They just like any female and will take what they can get," Lisa mutters, "but anyway! How was your meeting with Mr. Park? Did you solve his boner problem?" she wiggles her eyebrows.

You clear your throat. "No, Lisa I did not. I'm obviously above that," you say in a sarcastic tone. "I simply offered to," you tease. Lisa squeals and slaps your arm in response. "But for real though," she says. "Anyone that gets to hook up with mister Park Jimin automatically wins at life," and you hum in agreement.

You scan at the dining hall around you and catch the eye of Jaebum sitting with his friend group. He winks at you and you roll your eyes and stand up, "come on Lisa, let’s go. Those assholes are going to come over any second if we stay here any longer." You drag her to your guys’ next class.

The bell rings and the two of you burst out of the classroom. Thank god that’s over. Only one more class left, you think to yourself, gripping your books tighter to your chest in excitement.

"Jesus fuck, since when were you this eager to get to the last class of the day, Y/N? I thought you loved staying in school for as long as possible," Lisa huffs out. You steer her into the direction of your locker, right across from Jimin’s classroom. 

"I'm picking up my books, you dummy. Be grateful I paid for this locker because otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to put your books here." You put in the code and exchange your books while Lisa checks herself in the magnetic mirror attached to the door. you have to be careful when bending over because otherwise you’ll flash the entire school, so you do a weird sit-squat thing. "Geeking out over lockers? You act as if you’re still in high school, Y/N," Lisa teases. "Only during the school day," you wink up at her.

Lisa spots someone through the reflection of the mirror and groans out. "Incoming," she warns, rolling her eyes and turning around. "Wha-" you begin when you get cut off by a smooth voice behind you.

"Damn, L/N. didn’t know you wore skirts this short on campus. Looks good on you," the guy winks. "But it would look even better on my bedroom floor." You hold back a gag and turn to Lisa, raising your eyebrows in exasperation. 

"Wow, I see the originality," Lisa says in the most sickeningly sweet voice. "What do you want, Jaebum?" He chuckles and places an arm over your head, leaning over you. "Well, I’m having a party tonight, and it would be amazing if you two little ladies could attend. Be mine and Jackson’s plus one?" he says. You’re about to say no when he leans in closer to you, inches away from your face, "plus you can get the high-quality drinks for free, not the cheap booze we leave out for the randos who show up."

"You’re probably gonna drug them or something. No thanks, dickwad." you huff out after a second’s hesitation, pushing him away, ready to go to your next class. "Nah, baby. I may be a fuckboy but at least I've got morals. Whaddya say? You get me off, I get you off? Maybe make you cum so many times it starts hurting? You look like you haven’t been able to get an orgasm in a while, you’re so uptight, L/N," Jaebum smirks. 

"You fuckin-" you start to hiss out but you’re shut off again. This time it’s by someone different. Jimin. "Mr. Lim, I don’t think it’s necessarily appropriate to discuss your sexual endeavors while in an academic setting. I’ll be letting you off with a warning for now." He turns to you, eyes flitting across your DIY skimpy outfit. You feel your cunt leak more of your honeyed juices under his piercing gaze and clamp your thighs together to keep them from dripping down your thighs. "And Ms. L/N, I expected better from you. You’re not typically one to do these things in a school environment. Get to class, the two of you," he says, turning back to his classroom.

"Oh," he adds, "and Y/N. fix your outfit. I would hate to see you get dress coded by a teacher who isn’t as lenient." You, Lisa, and Jaebum stare at his back in shock as he heads inside his classroom. 

"Well, uh, that just happened," Lisa states, turning to you. "Ready to go?" you nod numbly, mind swirling with embarrassment and excitement as you tug down your skirt. The two of you walk to the last class of the day while Jaebum calls out, "my place after 11, L/N! I’ll be waiting!", making you wince. Great, now a bunch of people are gonna think you’re hooking up with him.

The last bell of the day finally rings, and you head to your locker after bidding Lisa goodbye. You put your books in your locker and head to the bathroom to fix your clothes. You decide to tease Jimin even more by adjusting your skirt so that it ends just at the bottom of your ass. It’s a terribly risky decision; if you walk too fast, you risk flashing everyone. You’ve tried to wipe the slick off the juncture of your thighs, but it keeps getting replaced with more of your arousal.

You speed walk down the halls and fling open the door to see that Jimin isn’t in his classroom - or so you think. Once you take a few steps into the room, you hear the door shut behind you and lock. Jimin looks at you up and down. "You didn’t fix your outfit, Ms. L/N. Looks like I’ll have to dress code you for indecent exposure then," he hums, heading to his desk to take out a slip of paper.

"Wait Jimin, what? I thought we were- um. You know, going to-" you splutter out, realizing he was actually serious. You can’t have this on your academic record! What would your parents think?

"Going to what? Fuck? Seems like you already have someone else for that, Y/N," he shakes his head, grabbing a pen. You reach forward quickly to stop him, hand, gripping his forearm in desperation. 

"No Mr. Park, I- I never told Jaebum yes. I just-" you try to explain, but Jimin cuts you off. "You what?" he asks bitingly, taking you by surprise. "Did you think that you could just come back and hop on my dick after nearly making out with another guy? God, you really are a slut, aren’t you?"

You rub your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the steadily mounting pressure in your core at Jimin’s words. "Look at you, I told you to fix your outfit and you fucking pulled up your skirt. You pulled it up. You don’t listen to me, talk to your friends about how much you want me to rail you, and yet let other guys make plans to hook up with you. And you expect me to let you cum after all of that?" he continues, noticing the effect he has on you. "You really think I should let you cum, Y/N? I'll tell you what I think. I think I should leave you like this, dripping and needy for me. So ready to get fucked by me but not being able to."

Your eyes widen, "no, please professor, no!" 

"Should I jack off in front of you and not let you touch me? Maybe then would you learn your lesson? Or maybe I should spank your ass till it’s blue you’re unable to sit. Would that work, hm? What if I just send you back to the dorms? You could ask Jaebum to touch you, even if he can’t make you half the mess I can," he continues, pushing you onto his desk. He grabs your jaw and tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him, humiliated, with tears in your eyes.

"Aw," he pouts sarcastically, "is the baby crying? Because I didn’t let her cum? Well, princess, you knew what you were getting yourself into. Little cocksluts like you don’t deserve to cum so easily."

"P- professor, please. You can punish me. Teach me a lesson. B- but just please let me cum." You whimper out, attempting to cross your legs together to assuage your aching clit, but Jimin stops you by holding your knee with his other hand.

He slowly trails his hands up your bare thigh, admiring the way your soft skin seems to get chills at his touch. He pushes you back onto the desk and you prop yourself up your elbows to look at him. "Are you a cockslut, Y/N?" he asks, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. 

"Y- yes Mr. Park. I- I’m nothing but a hole for you to fuck," you whimper meekly as he pushes up your skirt. He pushes apart your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the desk. "Damn right you are. Nothing but a little whore that I can use to get off. I’m going to fuck you here in school like you’ve never been fucked before. And this dick you’ve been thinking about all this time, it’s going to finally be in you, and I better not hear any complaints," Jimin growls, pumping his length in his hand. "No sir," you whimper out.

"You on the pill?" he asks, to which you reply with a yes. He teases your slit with the pink head of his cock and your entrance flutters at the touch. "But on another note, tell me if you want to stop. I don’t want to push you too much."

You smile, "Jimin, you’re being too kind. I promise I'll tell you. But I did say before perhaps you weren’t doing enough. Mr. Park, I want you to ruin me," you bite your lips, mimicking his words from earlier in the day. He cocks his head in amusement. 

"Don’t worry princess, that’s exactly what I’ll be doing." Without warning, he thrusts forward into your heart, barely giving you time to adjust to his size. The girth of his cock stretches open your cunt with painful pleasure. Once he’s sheathed inside you, you can feel him very near your cervix. 

You let out a shaky breath but it’s cut off as he continues thrusting in and out of you, wet slaps echoing through the room. "M- Mr. Park-" you moan incoherently. 

"Fucking take it, Y/N. You wanted me to ruin you? Well here I am doing it; be fucking grateful." he rolls his hips into yours, hands gripping your sides harshly.

"Th- thank you Mr. Park, s- so much," you nearly sob out, almost crying at the relief of being fucked. You’re so turned on that your walls are clenching around Jimin’s dick so hard that he grips your jaw harshly. Gritting his teeth, he spits, "loosen up, babe. You’re so fuckin’ tight." You whine and try to relax but the stimulation Jimin’s providing has your eyes rolling back instead.

He snakes a hand down to your stomach and under your skirt, circling your throbbing clit. Your pussy flutters at the stimulation and you bite your lip harshly. He changes his angle slightly, causing your thighs to start shaking. His precum and your honeyed juices drip out your sopping cunt, the sound of wet slaps echoing around the room.

"Mmmmh," you moan out softly, back arching slightly. You can feel Jimin hitting your g-spot with impeccable accuracy each time. Doubled with the way his thumb is rubbing circles on your sensitive clit, you feel yourself reaching your orgasm. You try to suppress the giveaway signs of your impending release, knowing that Jimin, in order to "teach you a lesson" of sorts, is likely to take it away from you, so you attempt to just breathe out, "Jimin, fuck, it feels so good."

"Yeah, you like that, baby?" he thrusts into you deeper and harder and you bite your upper lip to stop your moans from slipping out. "Come on Y/N, let me hear those pretty little moans. Let everyone else know how well I'm fucking you, how good I make you feel," Jimin urges.

As soon as he utters those words, you give in, letting high pitched whimpers spill from your lips. Your pussy lets out filthy squelching noises at each of his thrusts, your wetness dripping down your ass and onto the desk. You feel your walls tightening around his cock and try to fight it off, but Jimin can already tell of your impending orgasm. He pulls out of you, leaving your warm and soaked cunt open to the air.

"Fuck," you exclaim in frustration, bringing your hands up to cover your face so Jimin doesn’t see your face, tears starting to spill down your face. It’s frustrating you so much that he won’t let you cum. That he enjoys seeing you whimpering and teary-eyed for him. Your thighs haven’t stopped shaking and Jimin parts them after you close them. He pulls down your arms and smiles evilly. 

"Well, what do we have here," he exclaims, "looks like the baby finally did start crying. Come on, Y/N, I thought you had it in you. But look at how you’re spread out on this desk for me, such a fucking mess. I bet you like it, huh? Dirtying up my desk with that cunt of yours."

"I need to cum, Mr. Park," you choke out, trying to gather your thoughts. "I need to cum now." your teacher’s eyes narrow and he grips your thighs harshly. "What did you say to me?" he asks, a tone laced with dangerous amusement. 

"You heard me. I-," you hesitate for a moment, but decide you’ve already put yourself through enough teasing today. You muster up your courage before saying, "I want you to make me cum now." 

There’s a moment’s silence before you add on shamelessly, "o- or if it’s too much to ask of you, I- I’ll just find someone else to help me do it. Maybe Jaebum? He promised a good time a- and said he would let me cum as many times as I want."

Jimin grabs you by the chin and pulls you up. "You’re such a fucking brat, Y/N." Shifting his hand so it’s gripping your throat, he mutters, "you don’t fucking learn, do you? I thought you were smart, hm? But has the need for sex made you lose your sense? Made you turn into a dumb little bitch, ready to bend over for anyone because you’re so horny? And here I was thinking you were better than that. That you had standards. Perhaps I was wrong, hm? Would you like to tell me?"

You try to look down, away from his piercing glare, but he turns your chin to look back at him. Humiliation courses through your veins as Jimin’s gaze wanders down your body scathingly. "Look at you," he coos sarcastically. "Y/N, baby, you’re such a fucking mess. Pathetic." Suddenly, he lifts you off the desk and bends you over it, cheek pressing the top and ass exposed over the edge to him. You whimper at the feeling of your shirt being stickied from your arousal left on the table from just a few minutes ago. You try moving away from it, but Jimin holds you in place. 

"Are you afraid that everyone else is going to see the mess on your shirt, Y/N? Is that why you’re trying to move?" he hovers over you from behind. "Or perhaps," he continues, hot breath tickling over the shell of your ear, "you want to continue being a brat. Make me punish you until you’re begging for me to make it stop."

He spanks you, the sound echoing across the room before you register the sting of his action. You clench involuntarily and let out the slightest of whimpers. "Fucking hell, are you this turned on? Making noises even if I don’t touch your filthy little pussy?" he asks, smacking your behind again. You bite down on your lip to avoid giving him the answer he already knows.

"Count for me. Be good and maybe I’ll finally let you cum." he commands, spanking your right ass cheek again. "O- one!" you groan. He spanks your left side, the stinging sensation causing you to leak more arousal. "Louder, Y/N. Let me hear you," he hisses, hand in your hair, and pulls you up slightly. "T- two," you stammer. another slap echoes across the room. "Three! God Mr. Park, please." At this point, you’re not even sure what you’re begging for; your mind is numb with lust.

"T- twenty! Agh, fuck, please," you squirm under Jimins grasp. The throbbing of your clit has increased tenfold, and you can practically feel the shaking of your thighs through the desk. 

Jimin slips his hand between your legs, feeling the soft flesh of your inner thighs slicked with your juices. "You’re fucking dripping, Y/N. Look at you. Did getting punished turn you on this much, doll?" He swipes up your slit, teasing your fluttering hole. You scrunch your eyes in displeasure and try to back up into him, only to be stopped by a harsh smack onto your already throbbing cunt. You yelp and flop back on the desk, cheek pressing the surface.

You feel him rubbing his dick against your folds and sigh in relief. Suddenly, Jimin slams into you from behind with no warning causing you to let out a harsh groan. "Ah, professor!" you exclaim, balling your fists in pleasure at finally being stimulated. His cock seems even bigger from this angle, and your entrance stings delectably at the way he splits you open.

"You feel how tight your pussy is, princess? How tight it is for me? Nobody else makes you feel this needy. Nobody," Jimin mutters in your ear after pulling you up. He pulls your head back by your hair, exposing your neck, which he plants wet kisses on. He reaches down in front of you, tracing an achingly slow path from your stomach to your slit with his fingers. You’re reaching your orgasm at an embarrassingly fast rate due to all of the edging you’re been through, so when Jimin finally brushes over your clit, it’s no surprise that your walls tighten even more instantaneously.

"Ji- ‘m gonna cum," you moan wantonly. "Yeah? Is my little slut finally going to cum?" He hisses out at the way you tighten around him. You nod desperately, gripping his arm rubbing figure eights over your sensitive bud. 

"Oh god, Jimin, I feel it coming. Please please please let me cum. I'm being good for you, Mr. Park, please let me cum," you sob out incoherently as Jimin continues railing you from behind. You feel the ridges of his cock brushing your walls and shudder at his ministrations.

"Let go, princess, I got you. Cum for me. Tell me how good I’m making you feel," Jimin snarls, snapping his hips into yours, eager to get you to finally melt in his arms. You feel your orgasm crashing over you and you clamp down on his dick, legs shaking in relief. Jimin's grip on your hair tightens as he feels you pulsing around him, getting impossibly tight. Nevertheless, he continues thrusting into you. 

You mewl, trying to shift away from Jimin's hold as his fingers return to your clit, rubbing figure eights into them, "J- too m- much," you whimper out, straining against his arms.

"Yeah?" his smooth voice asks, "but I thought you wanted to cum, princess? Didn't you? I need to cum, Mr. Park. I need to cum now." He mocks you. “Well, that's what I'm doing doll. I'm. Making. You. Cum," he emphasizes each word with a harsh thrust, jolting you forward.

You're being reduced to a mess, tears streaming down your face and slick dripping down your thighs. You can feel your gummy walls tightening more and more on their own accord, without even trying. Without even realizing it, you've changed from trying to move away from Jimin's fingers to grinding down on his dick.

Jimin, however, notices this. "God, you're such a slut, Y/N. Weren't you just asking me to stop?" He raises your left leg onto the desk, allowing him to have more access to your folds. He slaps your clit when you don’t give a response and you yelp, clenching down on his dick. He slaps you a couple more times, and your cunt drips even more, making your thighs sticky with your honeyed juices. You can feel yourself nearing your orgasm once again from his motions.  

Suddenly, Jimin pushes you back on his desk and begins hammering into you from behind. "You're going to cum again, aren't you? Filthy little girl, didn't you just cum? Are you really that needy for some dick?" You try to hold back a whimper from his words but it slips from your lips. "You're really a whore, aren't you, baby?" 

In response, Jimin spanks you, and you yelp. "Keep doing that," he hisses when you clench down on his dick. "You like being punished, don't you?" You nod meekly in response. He smacks your already reddened ass again and you hiss at the stinging sensation. Paired with the pleasure his cock is giving you, thrusting so deep into you, you can feel yourself practically getting high off the feeling.

Jimin feels you cumming before you realize it yourself. His hips nearly stutter at the way your walls have clenched around his dick. He opts to rut his hips into yours, no longer being able to thrust in and out due to how tight you are. He reaches under your body to rub tight circles on your throbbing clit and you start cumming again, clenching erratically around his dick. "You cumming, Y/N? Be a good girl and let go for me. Get this fat cock all wet," he commands. You ball up your fists and dig your nails into your palms, pleasure coursing through your veins. Riding the course of your high, you wish for nothing more but to be in the moment. 

When you come down from your orgasm, Jimin finally pulls his hard dick out of you. You feel his precum and your cum drip down your thighs. Whining, you rub them together to get rid of the feeling but it only serves to make you stickier. Jimin parts your thighs and runs a hand up them to cup your pussy, pausing to feel your cunt still clenching from the aftershocks of your orgasm. He smacks your abused heat, jolting you forwards and causing you to grit your teeth in overstimulation. 

He flips you over, spreading your legs open. He leans over you, rubbing the tip of his dick over your swollen and throbbing clit, making you shiver. "Prof- professor, I can’t-" you begin but are interrupted my Jimin quickly shoving into you. Gasping, you clench down onto his dick, eyes rolling back into your head.

"You can, Y/N, and you fucking will," he grunts harshly, snapping his hips into yours. You grasp at his arm after feeling him in you deeper than before. The head of his cock nearly kisses your cervix and his impossibly hard dick stretches your tight cunt open even more, making you wince at the pleasurable pain.

"I- oh god, I really can’t. It feels-" you choke out through your tears. "It feels too- oh!" your head rolls back as Jimin hooks your legs over his shoulders, creating a new angle of penetration. He rubs your clit ever so slightly, the abused bundle of nerves pulsing under his touch. "It feels too what?" he hisses, rolling his hips upward so that his tip just barely grazes your g-spot. Too good, you want to say, but pleasure is clouding your mind and you can’t get the words out.

"That’s it, baby," he hums, "taking my fat cock so well even though you’re so- shit, you’re so fucking tight. Are you gonna cum again, hm? Cream all over my dick and make another mess?" you’re being reduced to a blathering mess, Jimin’s name rolling off the tip of your tongue. "Yeah? Can’t even hold it back a little? Even though I let you cum so many times, you still want more? Greedy little bitch," he spits at you.

When you clench down at his words, he starts pistoning his hips into yours, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoing around the room. His cock seems to be splitting you open even more, and you can feel every pulse of his dick on your walls. "Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to cum," he groans.

"I- I’m close too, Mr. Park. It- fuck, it feels really good," you breathe out as Jimin leans down over you. He slows his hips down, opting to roll his hips smoothly and brushing over your g-spot with painful accuracy. Hovering over you, his stare bores into yours, eyes flitting down to your lips, reddened and swollen from you biting them. You whimper and tilt your chin up towards him and he leans his head down to yours.

He lets his lips ghost over yours, warm breath brushing over your lips as his hips grind into yours. "P- please," you beg, and Jimin finally relents and melds his lips to yours, bringing the two of you into a searing kiss, groaning as you near each of your highs. You break the kiss to gasp out, "I’m c- cumming again Mr. Park."

"Yeah?" he breathes surprisedly, "your little pussy’s that sensitive that you’re gonna- fuck, you’re cumming already? So quickly?" he leans down as your orgasm washes over you, this one hitting you slowly and harshly. You arch your back into Jimin’s chest, hands gripping at the collar of his shirt. His thumb continues to gently rub over your clit, causing you to roll your eyes back into your head at the overstimulation. You start shaking underneath him, squirming to get away from the overload of senses, but he holds you in place as you ride your high for what seems to be like an eternity.

"That's a good girl," he soothes as you continue to writhe underneath him. "Look at you, stuffed so full of my cock it’s making you cry. Does that feel good, darling?" you nod, sobbing. When your orgasm starts to fade away, spots of white dotting your vision, he still doesn’t stop thrusting into you. 

You bite your lip, and seeing that he’s close, you whisper, "M- Mr. Park, I want you t- to cum too. I- in me." His hips stutter at your words. "Shit, yeah? You’d let me do that?" 

You nod, "want you to fill me up w- with your cum and s- stuff me so full of it that it’s gonna be in me for days. And I wanna fe- fuck, I wanna feel you in me even when I’m alone, professor." At your words, Jimin lets out a slightly animalistic growl and leans in. "You’d like that, huh?" he asks. "Me fucking you so well till you can’t think straight? Putting my cum in you so that when you walk out of here, it’s dripping down your pretty little thighs, making you look like the filthy little slut you really are? You think you deserve that?"

"Please, sir, I really want it," you beg, "please." With that, Jimin attaches his lips onto yours again, grinding his hips into yours even deeper as he finally orgasms. He doesn’t stutter his hips as he continues his ministrations, even though he can feel your walls desperately squeezing around him, milking his cock of its seed. You feel the thick ropes of his warm cum painting your inner walls every second. Each time he pulls out slightly, a bit of it leaks out of your cunt, dripping down your ass onto his desk. He continues fucking his cum into you until he’s satisfied with the way you’re shivering under him.

For a moment, all is still, nothing but the sound of the two of your breathing filling the air as you stare into each other’s eyes. "Um-," you begin, and Jimin quickly looks away, brushing his thumb over his plump lips. So that just happened. I fucked my teacher. I fucked Park Jimin.

"Wait here," he mutters, making your heart drop in disappointment. You nod, offering him a weak smile. Seeing this, Jimin reassures you, "don’t worry, I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right back," and cautiously steps out of the room after clothing himself.

You take this moment to recollect what exactly happened. Okay, so you just fucked your teacher. It still hasn’t sunk in yet, and probably won’t till you leave to clean yourself and look at the marks he’s made on your thighs and ass. You can’t help the giddiness you feel, like a kid who got the best candy bar in the world. After all, you got to hook up with your crush - in fact, the entire campus’s crush. The door creaks open and Jimin returns with some paper towels and wipes.

"H- hey," he smiles nervously. For the first time, he’s the one that’s stuttering. "Let me clean you up. It’s the least I could do after putting you through so much today." He spreads your legs gently, cheeks flushed, and begins wiping off the slick and cum between your thighs. 

"Jimin, you didn’t do anything bad, calm down. Well, I mean you fucked your student? But other than that you’re fine. I really liked it," you try to explain, stumbling over your words. He looks at you incredulously, but shakes his head, smiling. "I don't want to tell anyone about this," you continue, "and I highly doubt you will, so this can stay as our little secret." 

"Well looks like someone got fucked a little too happy. How come you never smile this much when I’m teaching, hm?" Jimin jokes after he finishes cleaning you up, kissing your knee gently. He hands you your thong that he’s kept for half the day and tells you to put it on. 

"You’re still going to the party, right? Jaebum’s?" he asks and you shrug. "You should go. Have a fun time there, drinking and all that stuff." He leans into you, whispering into your ear, "and if that rascal wants to get into your pants, he’s going to see your soaked panties covering up that precious little cunt of yours stuffed with all that cum of mine. Maybe then he’ll finally back off," he smirks.

You blush, "maybe, Mr. Park. You know, you’re pettier than I thought you’d be." Standing up, to face him, he pulls you in by the waist till your chests are touching. You wrap your arms around his neck and he leans in, whispering, "well, Y/N, I don’t think you knew too much about me in the first place." Closing the gap between the two of you, you give him a peck on the lips, which quickly turns into a more heated kiss, lips melding together and tongues colliding. When you break apart, a faint blush on the two of your cheeks, Jimin smiles fondly at you and you look away.

"Well," you hum contentedly, "if I don’t know much about you now, I’d at least like to get to know you better in the future." 

"One day," he breathes out. "One day."

Your grin, disentangling yourself from his arms. "One day soon, I hope. I’ve got to go now, but I’ll see you next class. Goodbye prof- Jimin. Have a great weekend."

He smiles softly, walking you to the door. "You too, Y/N. If you do end up going to that party, have fun. Stay safe."

[alitaimagines]

“I’m human, can’t you see? I made, I made a mistake. please just look me in my face, tell me everything’s okay. cause I got it, I’ll never be like you.”

ENJI TODOROKI, TOSHINORI YAGI ☆ MY HERO ACADEMIA

 ☆ previous imagine: ♡ ☆ masterlist: ♡

“Enji, the baby is yours,” you whispered grabbing your now small bump, “and you’re walking away from it?” Enji scoffed, wiping his wet fingers that he was previously biting on. 

“you’re not a worthy wife. you’re nothing.”

your mouth dropped at the bluntness. the two of you weren’t official, not by far, but when you found out that you were holding his child, you thought that he was going to stick around. 

“so you’re leaving me with the child?” he nodded, “and you want nothing to do with me? what if he has your quirk? or your hair? it’s going to be very noticable that it’s your child.”

Enji shrugged, not bothering to reply to your warnings. your eyes pricked with tears, not knowing what you were going to do. you were going to keep the baby but the thought that Enji wanted no part in his life broke your heart. 

your sighed wavered as you walked away from the red haired boy. you were only eighteen. you didn’t know if you could deal with a child on your own. of course your family had already offered to help take care of the baby but the thought that you were going to be a single mother because of Enji’s selfish mindset made you want to turn around and kick him 

you looked down to your baby bump and rubbed it. 

“don’t ever think that you’re not loved. one day, we’ll find someone who is worth our time. someone who loves you as much as I do.”

U.A. had been nice enough to allow you to do homeschool to finish off your third year and have the credentials of graduating from such a luxury school. 

your baby had been born at the tail end of your third year so he was able to witness your graduation. your mother had made him a small graduation cap and gown as a surprise the day you were going to walk the stage. 

at first, you didn’t want to even bare to even step back onto U.A. grounds and the thought of it made you want to gag but when your sibling had told that Enji being there shouldn’t stop you from grabbing that diploma from the principal and calling yourself a U.A. graduate.

you made sure that you didn’t focus on Enji when his name was called. you drowned it out and payed attention to the sleeping baby in your arms. you were planning on walking across the stage with your son and made sure to show Enji that he was missing out on the best thing to ever happen to you. 

you lined up with the rest of the business department with your one month old child finally waking up from his nap. you knew he had to be fed soon but as soon as you heard your name be called, you positioned him so the camera could catch a glimpse of him. 

( your name ), graduating second in her class, and has three internships lined up at agencies in Tokyo, Osaka, and Hokkaido.” 

you waved the baby’s hand at the camera, gaining aww’s from the crowd as you grabbed the diploma from the principal and took the picture with the entire U.A. faculty. 

once the graduation ceremony was over and your family was finished taking photos with you, a few of your friends were generous enough to invite you out for a night in the town. your family more than willingly took the baby of your hands so you could enjoy at least tonight. 

as you were getting ready to leave the campus, you saw Enji staring at you with eyes that you were sure if they could kill, you would be dead where you stood. 

“you had the audacity to bring that child to graduation? are you stupid?” he asked a bit flustered, “why? you scared everyone would find out that Enji Todoroki has a baby that he doesn’t want to claim? cry me a river, Todoroki. I’m done trying to have you care for our child. to you, he’s a mistake but to me, he’s everything. next time you want to put your dick in someone, make sure to warn that poor son of a bitch.”

Enji stared at you in surprise. he would have never though you would ever raise your voice at him but the way you held onto his baby and walked away made him think that maybe he should’ve put more thought into his decision. 

he knew the baby was his. the small red hair poking out of his head just assured him that your son was a Todoroki. 

the night came when your friends beeped at you from the street. you kissed your baby goodnight as your mom reassured you that it was okay to enjoy your night out. the mom guilt was crawling up and your mom was able to see that a part of you didn’t want to leave your son but nevertheless, you kissed your son once more before grabbing your bag and leaving. 

all of your friends decided on a 18+ club for the night. you knew since none of you were old enough to drink, you would be getting home safe and all together. 

“do any of you want a soda? I’ll purchase the first person who raises their hand,” your friend Rei’s hand instantly shot up as she asked for a Bubly instead. 

you walked to the bar and ordered the sparkling water and soda as you went to the other side to wait for it. as you sat on the stool, you felt a weight next to you and looked at who sat down.

it was a boy, maybe only one or two years older than you. he had the blondest hair you had ever seen and blue eyes you could get lost in. he gave you a wide smile earning your shy one in return. 

“hey, I’m Toshinori,” he screamed through the music. you shook his hand in response, “I’m ( your name ), nice to meet you!” you yelled back. 

-

you woke up next to Toshi and smiled at his. ever since he became the symbol of peace and offered to move back to Japan to focus on his hero work here, the time you spent with him was more prevalent.

your son was now five. he had fiery red hair and developed a combination of your quirk and Enji’s. 

it took a while for you to trust another man after your situation with Enji but Toshi understood you completely. he was more than happy to take Enji’s place and become your sons new father. not only that but you were now carrying his brother. 

although you and Toshi weren’t married, he had gotten you pregnant and you didn’t necessarily hate the idea of making your son a brother. Toshi promised he would take at least two months off to make sure you and the baby were well taken care off while making sure your son didn’t feel too left out. 

when he found out his rival was your sons father, there’s a point a few times in the relationship that had you holding Toshi back from wanting to basically obliterate Enji into the ground.

the fact that Enji thought of you as scum made him gag and once you told him the comments he made about your son, he knew that if he ever came face to face with the fire hero, he would probably get arrested for assault

you struggled to get out of bed but knew you had to make a run to the store to get some food you had been craving since last night. 

as you made the trudge to your sons room, you noticed Toshi already in there, silently trying to wake him up. you knew that if neither of you did, he would be asleep till at least noon. 

your son stirred awake and hugged Toshi for the morning comfort as you made your way into the bathroom to get ready. your son had known of his situation with his dad and Toshi. he never really pressed you for more information but all he knew is that Toshi was his dad and his biological dad was no longer in the picture. 

“are you ready to go to the store?” Toshi asked as he placed a few small kisses on your bare shoulder after your shower. you hummed in response, “ ( your sons name ) is eating breakfast so we can stop for your coffee on the way to the store.” 

you gave Toshi a kiss before quickly finishing getting ready and waddling your way downstairs. your son and Toshi were talking amongst each other while Toshi swung the keys around his finger. 

“ready!” you exclaimed as your son hugged your shoulder, “lets make the trip quick. I don’t want people seeing you in public for a long time,” Toshi murmured in your ear as you rolled your eyes jokingly. 

since Toshi found out that you were pregnant, he trapped you inside of the house. he hated the media talking about him so when they spoke about you in a negative way, he was ready to fight anyone and everyone. Toshi even punched a slimy reporter who was saying comments about you and your son. 

the drive to the grocery store was filled with your son talking gibberish with you and Toshi. he had your personality because Enji was hardly talkative when you knew him. 

you three arrived to the store as Toshi and your son went in the opposite direction of you. you grabbed the shopping cart from the stack and made your way to the frozen food section. 

you had to get a weeks worth of dinner plans and a few snacks for yourself. you struggled to grab the green peas from the top of the shelf when you saw a hand reach for them and bring them down for you. 

you looked up to see the last person you expect. Enji was towering over you as shock was written all across of his face. the two of you stayed quiet, not knowing what to say or do. 

“mommy! mommy! look! dad bought me a new hero coloring book,” you heard your son exclaim. you eyes widen as he stood next to you as Toshi immediately recognized what was happening, “mommy? is everything okay?” your son asked.

“yeah, everything is okay,” you whispered as Enji and Toshi unknowingly sized up with each other, “hey, c’mon, we need to hit the vitamin aisle. ( your sons name ) needs his vitamins and I’m running out of pre-natals,” you mentioned.

Enji stared at you again, “you’re pregnant to him?” he asked as you nodded slowly, “of course she is. it’s a family trip,” Toshi emphasized the word family as he looked down to his son. 

Enji eye’s widened as he stared at his first born. he had the Todoroki red hair and couldn’t help but wonder if he had his quirk or yours. Enji was able to tell that his son was terrified of the situation. 

“come on, let’s go,” you whispered to both your son. you were nothing short of a petty bitch. you gave Toshi a kiss on the lips, making sure it was as dramatic as possible before retracting. your son started to gag dramatically as you made sure your lipstick stain stayed on Toshi’s face making him chuckle, knowing exactly what you were doing. 

Toshi and Enji stared at each other, not saying a word for what felt like a century. 

“are you taking care of her? does he have my quirk?” Enji muttered making Toshi laugh, “of course I am. I’m not you. I take care of what is mine,” Toshi retorted with a chuckle at the end, “but he does but he also has her quirk so it’s not like you’re anything too special. he uses ( your name )’s quirk more anyway.” 

Enji growled at the fact that Toshi was getting amusement at Enji’s misfortune. Tosh gave one final laugh before leaning into Enji’s ear. 

“looks like I won again.” 

ALITA 

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

Magic Marinette

Marinette is Zatanna's older cousin and can practice magic herself. Her magic is different however. For most low level spells she simply has to think of what the spell is intended for. For a harder spell she needs to chant much like Zatanna.

Marinette practices at home with her Uncle Zatara occasionally visiting with Zatanna. Magic comes naturally to Marinette, she likes to claim that it just flows in and out of her.

Marinette is 13 (Zatanna is only 6) when she becomes Ladybug, her magic and Tikki's combining flawlessly. The two are a magical power house, so much so that Marinette has to lock her aura down so that she'll only appear as a low level mage. Zatara is proud of his niece for becoming a hero, although he isn't exactly pleased, he knows better than to mess with the Kwami.

He is there for her every step of the way only a call away. When Marinette's friends turn against her and she ends up with only four left  he and Zatanna are there to comfort her. When her parents start feeding into the lies he is incredibly angry. Especially when he sees the broken look on his beloved nieces face. Zatara is quick to suggest he take complete custody over Marinette, her parents agree and sign away their rights.

Zatara helps Marinette pack her things and moves her into an apartment in Paris. Until Marinette is 18 he'll be spending the majority of his time in Paris with her. Zatanna grows up beside Marinette looking up to her as a big sister. Marinette lives up to that roll always spoiling Zatanna. 

When Marinette becomes Guardian Zatara helps her navigate how to deal with her new responsibilities. A few weeks later when she shows up hand in hand with a blonde boy, he recognizes him immediately. After a quick shovel talk Adrien is practically adopted into the family. His and Marinette's relationship blossomed beautifully. 

Zatara has Marinette transferred out of her current class and Adrien follows her. The two are barely separate from each other, but when they are their former classmates take advantage of it. Marinette is constantly watching her back when she is alone. Especially when Bustier's class fails to make all their fundraising goals, Marinette can feel them glaring at her.

The class takes turns finding ways to bully Marinette. Alya posts embarrassing pictures of her, Rose tells everyone stories of her trying to get Adrien's attention calling her terrible names. Alix and Nathaniel kick her out of the Art Club. Kim and Alix push her around in the halls and so on. With Lila acting as the innocent bystander.

The class becomes more and more toxic towards themselves and others. This results in the entire school avoiding them, they however blame Marinette for everything. Even though she hasn't thought of them except for when they're bullying her.

Marinette is pissed when Bunnyx comes back from the future and takes the Bunny Miraculous from her. She immediately gives it to her younger self. Now Ladybug and Chat Noir have to work around an untrained liability.

When Marinette is 18 Zatanna is 11.

During their final year Adrien proposes to Marinette after asking Zatara's permission. Marinette agrees to marry him amd the wedding is set for the summer after they graduate.

The wedding never comes. After they graduate they face off with Hawkmoth and Mayura in one final battle. They had defeated Mayura and Chat was about to take Hawkmoth's Miraculous when Bunnyx showed up. She uses Burrow and endes up knocking Chat into an unknown part of time. Everything is silent as Ladybug stares at the space her partner had been in waiting for him to show up. When no one arrives a heartbreaking scream tears through her. All of Paris watches their last hero break down crying, with a burst of rage she defeats Hawkmoth unmasking him. Then charges Bunnyx using her magic to take her down.

Kcol reh ni ecalp htiw ton a elgnis hctiwt!!

Lock her in place with not a single twitch!!

Bunnyx is frozen as Ladybug rips her Miraculous away de-transforming her. She glares at her through her tears, before telling her that she was never meant to be a hero.

Ladybug then leaves with all the Miraculous except for Plagg.

Marinette de-transforms in her room, tears falling as she stares despondently at the ground. Before she utters a simple incantation releasing Alix from where she was frozen.

Cogam sesaeler eht eno I evah dnuob.

Magic releases the one I have bound.

Marinette remains there only moving when Zatanna comes in and sits on her lap. Marinette sniffles hugging her tightly, crying while Zatanna comforts her, crying softly as well.

The next day they are visited by an elderly old man with a kind smile. He introduces himself as Alfred Pennyworth. A mischievous smile crosses his face as he makes eye contact with Marinette.

Alfred-I didn't always go by that though. The love of my life used to call me kitty.

Marinette-Adrien?

Alfred simply smiled sadly nodding before telling her that she cannot go get him.

Alfred- I was sent back so long ago. When you never came I began to make a life for myself. I joined MI-16 and was adopted into a family. Became a butler and was loyal to the Wayne family. I had a son in all but blood, his name is Bruce. It's funny Bugaboo, he has the same black hair and blue eyes as you. Some nights I would pretend that he was our child. Marinette I love you but my life as Alfred Pennyworth cannot be removed from history. This is why I am asking you to move on, find love again.

Marinette sobs softly into his shoulder telling him that she'll do her best. Alfred smiles before pulling out a familiar ring placing it in her hand. Before telling Plagg that he better keep his Princess safe. Marinette giggles softly kissing him on his cheek.

Marinette- Keep in touch please Adrien, I can't live without you at least in my life.

Alfred nods kissing Marinette's hands gently before bidding all three of them goodbye.

Marinette continues on with her life but she doesn't fall in love again. She knows in her heart thay the only one for her was Adrien. Marinette becomes a famous fashion designer by day and Mari by night. She begins training Zatanna along with Zatara. Helping stop bag guys with  simple spells. When Zatanna is 15 she encourages Zatara to let her hang out with the Young Justice team and be a part of it. She happily spies through a seeing glass to see their first meeting. Marinette giggles when her cousin takes an instant liking to the young boy wonder. She smiles softly at the picture of the boy knowing that he was Alfred's honorary grandson.

A few weeks later Marinette is working to reunite the dimensions. When they make it back she is heartbroken to see her cousin with the Helmet of Fate. Zatara immediately tries to convince him to take him instead but Marinette stops him.

Marinette- Release my cousin and take me instead Nabu.

Nabu-No, you barely show any signs of magic.

Marinette huffs before chanting a reversal incantation on the spell she put in place all those years ago. Her aura fills the area allowing everyone to feel her magic.

Marinette-If you release her you can have me. I just need to do a few things first.

Nabu- Very well.

He released Zatanna, Zatara is quick to hug her before turning to Marinette angry demanding to know why she did that with tears in his eyes. Marinette smiled softly before kissing his cheeks softly then kissing Zatanna's. She summons a pen and paper with an envelope writing out a letter to Alfred. She sealed the envelope before turning to Robin.

Marinette- Please deliver this to Agent A for me little birdie. Tell him Ladybug said it was important.

She pats his head gently before smiling softly at Batman.

Marinette- He thinks of you as his son, but he'll never admit it because he doesn't want to take your father's place. Trust me though, a child can have more than one father. 

She said glancing down at Robin when she said it. She turned away from them looking down at her cousin once again.

Marinette- Zatanna, my dearest cousin. I will be departing soon and with that I need to name the next Guardian. Will you uphold and protect the Kwami to the best of your ability?

As she is speaking, Marinette holds out her hands the Miraculous box and Gilmore appears in them. Zatanna chokes back a sob before nodding.

Zatanna- Ib accept.

Marinette passed her the box smiling gently as Tikki flew out of her coat pocket.

Marinette- This is goodbye Tikki, we made a good team didn't we?

Tikki- We were the best Marinette. 

Tikki and Marinette smile gently, a few tears slipping past as Tikki kissed Marinette's forehead gently.

Marinette- Zatanna, I hear by name you the new holder of the Ladybug Miraculous. Treat her well and she shall bring you everlasting luck.

Marinette unclips her earring, clipping them into Zatanna's ears gently.

Marinette-You will make a fine Ladybug.

Zatanna- I'll be nothing like you.

Marinette- No, you'll be better.

She kissed her forehead gently before turning to Zatara as he pulled her into a tight hug. She sniffled softly hugging back just as tightly. She released him, pushing herself away and closer to Nabu.

Marinette- Please dont blame yourselves. I made this decision not you. Goodbye, I love you.

Marinette turned allowing the helmet to close around her, becoming Doctor Fate.

Upon returning to the Watchtower, Alfred arrived wearing a mask of his own before walking over to his two charges. Robin held the letter out to him shifting nervously.

Robin- Ladybug said it was important.

Alfred's eyes widen as he takes the letter opening it.

Adrien, I'm sorry but I was never able to move on from you. You were and always will by my true love. I'm afraid this is my goodbye, please don't do anything stupid love. You're not as young as you were when we were together. You've raised a good son, I wish I could have been by you the entire time. I love you Adrien. -Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Alfred turned to Zatanna and Zatara as a tear fell. They nodded solemnly soon more tears joined them as he stood there silently. A few moments went by before Alfred dabbed his face gently singing quietly to himself.

Alfred- Miraculous, simply the best, up to the test when things go wrong, Miraculous the luckiest….Im Chat Noir. At night I rule, my ring is charged with energy, my claws are out just watch and see.

Alfred's shoulders shook as he thought of all their time together. He took a deep breath before turning back to Zatanna. 

Alfred- In every letter she wrote she was always so proud of you. She always told me that you were going to be great one day, even better than her. My princess will always be proud of you, take it from your almost cousin.

Zatanna sniffled before snorting and hugging Alfred.

Zatanna-God you got so old and sappy Adrien.

Alfred-Its Alfred now and that's what happens when you get thrown back in time and aged.

He turned to Batman and Robin with a sad smile on his face.

Alfred-I think it's time you both hear of my life before MI-16.

@blackmagicforever

@chocolateherringtacofan

@mythogaychic

[tsarisfanfiction]

In Your Shadow

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Gordon, Scott

Random thing that wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote it, so here it is.  Missed half a very important meeting because I lost track of time writing this, whoops...  More Scott&Gordon because I will die on this hill.

“Tomorrow, they’re not gonna say ‘that’s Gordon Tracy, the Olympic Champion!’  Tomorrow, they’re gonna say ‘that’s Scott Tracy’s little brother!’, and I’m gonna say ‘damn straight I am.’”

The lights were off in his brother’s room, but that meant nothing.  Scott had been sent to bed by the combined parental force of Grandma and Dad, and Gordon knew for a fact that John had been recruited to freeze all his electronics to make sure he didn’t sit up doing something all night instead of sleeping.  So, if Gordon didn’t miss his guess, Scott was going to be staying up all night doing nothing, just staring blankly at the ceiling, the wall, the view out the window, and working himself up about tomorrow.

There had been straws pulled between them to decide behind Dad’s back who went in and knocked some sense into him.  Gordon won. Gordon may have rigged the whole thing, but Virgil’s suspicious brown eyes could prove nothing.  This was something he needed to do.

Sure enough, as he slunk into the room, door shutting silently behind him (he’d had years of practice on that one), the body on the bed first rolled over, then sat up as Scott identified him in the dark (Scott had had years of practice at that).

“Gordon?  Is something wrong?”

And still he worried before being suspicious.  Any of his other brothers would be looking for the prank right about now, but Scott’s default would always be concern for him before concern to himself.  Gordon rolled his eyes and padded silently over to the bed, poking Scott until he moved over.  He did, arm shooting out to wrap around his shoulders the way he always did when Gordon had a nightmare.

Gordon was man enough to admit that the last time wasn’t as long ago as maybe people thought, but that wasn’t the reason tonight and he dodged the arm, catching it and using the opportunity of catching Scott off guard to roll his brother over onto his side.

“Gordon?”

Before he could roll back, Gordon dove onto the bed, wedging himself behind him and wrapping his arms around his biggest brother tightly, burying his face in the back of Scott’s neck and feeling his brother tense up.

“Gordon, what’s wrong?”

“Hey, Scott,” he started, voice still low so no Dad or Grandma caught him – there may have been some implications that all of them were to leave Scott alone tonight – even though John was supposedly running interference to make sure they didn’t. “When did you last celebrate your own achievements?”

The concerned set of his brother’s shoulders gave way to a confused one instead.  “What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t remember so much as a graduation party when you finished college,” Gordon pointed out. He didn’t mention the medals, locked away in storage where Scott refused to look at them.  Those didn’t count.

Scott didn’t answer, and Gordon decided against voicing the observation that Scott hadn’t celebrated any of his own achievements since the Zero-X.  This would be the first one, and he was all too aware that the only reason Scott wasn’t ducking out of it was because Dad wouldn’t let him.

“John had one,” he said instead.  “You didn’t let him escape it.”

“John graduated early with the highest grades in the university’s history,” Scott pointed out, and Gordon huffed.

“And you were top of your class.”  He’d checked the records before coming in.  “How did you even talk Grandma out of it?”

“What are you trying to say, Gordon?”  That was a non-answer if ever he heard one.  Gordon squinted at the back of his brother’s neck but let it slide.  For now.

“John’s graduations,” he started.  “John’s books.  Virgil’s graduation.  Virgil’s art shows and piano recitals.  My acceptance into WASP.  My medals. Alan’s everything.”  There had been a lot of parties for the youngest – getting his pilot’s license, youngest astronaut in history, anything Scott could remotely justify.  “You haven’t let any of us miss a single achievement.  But yours…” he trailed off meaningfully, but Scott was still tense in his hold and didn’t say a word.

Gordon sighed.

“Your achievements matter too, bro,” he said.  “Stop skulking in the shadows and directing the limelight onto us all the time.”

Scott made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a scoff.  It sounded sad and a little pathetic.

“You guys do so much,” he said.  “I’m proud of you.  All four of you.”

Aha.

“And we’re proud of you,” Gordon retorted.  “That’s why you’re not getting out of tomorrow.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Scott protested.  “I-” Gordon cut him off with a scoff.

“You piloted that jet.  You broke the airspeed record.  Professor Kwark is getting her dues for designing it – you know you’re not taking anything away from her achievements so stop pretending you think you are – but you piloted it.”

“Because she asked me to,” Scott pointed out, and Gordon rolled his eyes.  “She could have chosen anyone.”

“And she chose the best damn pilot in the world like a sensible woman, and don’t even try and tell me anyone else would have even been a consideration.”  Gordon jabbed him in the chest with a finger.  “Her own attempt last year ended in disaster, so she picked the most experienced high-speed pilot in the world for the next one. Sounds like a smart decision to me.” Scott was gearing up for another counter-argument; he could feel it in the way his chest tensed.  “They didn’t have to pick me for the Olympics,” he continued, switching to the reason he had absolutely rigged the straws to be the one in the room.

When it came to wrangling Scott, Virgil was definitely the most experienced, with John hot on his heels. But Virgil and John weren’t world record holders.  Gordon was.

“You were the best in the team,” Scott immediately shot back.  “They’d have been daft not to pick you.”

Exactly, but Gordon didn’t say that, just waited for Scott to realise he’d cornered himself.  It didn’t take long, shoulders slumping with a fondly exasperated sigh.

“That’s different,” Scott tried to argue.  “You still had to beat the other seven swimmers.”

“And you still had to beat the record.”  Gordon shot that argument back down.

“The jet-”

“Would not have beat the record if I was piloting it.  Hell, if Virgil was piloting it.  Even Alan’s not that good, Scott.”  He squeezed his ridiculously stubborn brother tighter, a grin slipping onto his face as Scott let out a quiet oof.  “That was all you, Scott, and I know you know it, despite what you’re trying to tell me.”

Scott didn’t say anything for several moments, and Gordon didn’t break the silence even if he pressed closer to his brother’s back.  He knew what it was like, those few hours – days, weeks, even – after breaking a world record.  The state of disbelief that he’d actually done it.  Scott had stepped out of what they had nicknamed Icarus II (not actually called that, after the original Icarus had proven too close to its namesake, but Gordon didn’t really care for the jet’s actual name) less than twenty-four hours earlier, breathing hard from the adrenaline and excitement of Mach 23.8 to congratulations and jubilation from Professor Kwark’s team and his family.  What he’d actually managed hadn’t properly sunk in yet, but the official celebrations were tomorrow, complete with paparazzi from all over the world, and Scott was doing his best to escape it.

“…Why are you here, Gordon?”

Gordon was there to tell his brother he was being an idiot, and hammer it home that they were all ridiculously proud of their big brother for doing the thing they’d always known he would one day, and convince him it was okay to be proud of himself. He didn’t say that.

Each of his brothers always required a slightly different touch, and Scott needed to be caught off-guard. The head-on approach never worked; he just headbutted it back with twice the force because he was stubborn like that. Unless you were Virgil but Virgil could just keep throwing it back again with interest until he wore him down.

So instead, Gordon plucked at a different string – one of those little things Scott thought they didn’t know about but really didn’t hide that well once you knew how to look for it. They all knew.

“You know how many people I’ve heard complain about some ‘shadow’ their older siblings cast?” he asked, rhetorically.  Scott froze so suddenly he could have sworn the temperature dropped a few degrees.  “Whining on and on about how no matter what they do, their sibling’s always there, always the one everyone sees?”

Scott seemed to be holding his breath; even pressed up against him with his arms wrapped around his chest, Gordon couldn’t feel any rise and fall.

“Well, I don’t agree with that,” he said firmly.

“What?”  He felt Scott startle, clearly not meaning to say anything but caught off-guard.

“I don’t agree,” he repeated.  “You’ve never overshadowed us.  Any of us.  John’s got the books to prove it, Virgil’s got the paintings and recitals, I’ve got a gold freaking medal.  Even Alan’s making his own name for himself in the gaming community and he’s a home-schooled kid most of the world has never seen out of uniform.”

“I-”

“How long have you been worrying about that?” Gordon asked, overriding whatever feeble attempt at disagreement Scott was about to make.  “At least since the Zero-X.  I know that for certain, but I bet it’s been longer.”

Scott didn’t answer, but he didn’t expect him to.  Scott was annoying like that – he’d say everything you didn’t want him to, and nothing that you did.  The answer was probably the first time he’d ever heard anyone mention something about an older sibling’s so-called ‘shadow’, anyway, knowing Scott.

“You know,” he said, fully aware that Scott didn’t know, because he was an idiot of a big brother who cared too much about them and not enough about himself, “sometimes I like sitting in your shadow.”  Or John’s, or Virgil’s, but this conversation wasn’t about them.

Scott’s second startle was a full-body thing, a twitch topped off with a jerk of the head, but he still didn’t say anything.

“I doubt you get it, because you don’t have a big brother, but sometimes it’s nice lurking there,” he continued.  “Here.”  He pressed up against Scott’s back again, making sure Scott couldn’t possibly miss that he was plastered against him.  “Maybe it’s because I know you’ll never try and keep me here and I can go wander into the spotlight whenever I like,” he admitted, “but I like it.  The others do, too.”  John and Virgil never left Scott’s so-called ‘shadow’ unless they had to, both content to do their own thing and let Scott handle the world while they handled Scott, and Gordon knew all four of them still found safety in their biggest brother even if they never said it in so many words.

“Gordon, what are you trying to say?” Scott asked.  He sounded genuinely confused, and Gordon swallowed another sigh, because trust Scott to be a brilliant leader and fantastic big brother but not understand just how much they appreciated him.

“I’m saying that tomorrow, they’re not gonna look at me and say ‘that’s Gordon Tracy, the Olympic Champion!’” he said bluntly.  “Tomorrow, they’re gonna look at me and say ‘that’s Scott Tracy’s little brother!’, and I’m gonna say ‘damn straight I am.’”  He grabbed a handful of Scott’s pyjamas and made a fist, right over his brother’s chest. “Because tomorrow is your day and I – we – are damn proud of you, Scott.  So don’t you dare run away from this and try and put us in the limelight instead.  Not this time.”  Not any time it was Scott’s achievement, but Gordon was well aware that was too much of a push right now.

He’d just bring out the pep talks again, and again, and again, until Scott got the message.

Scott was silent, but his breathing was steady, Gordon’s fistful of fabric rising and falling with his chest, so he waited while his brother thought it through, looking for loopholes and – hopefully – finding none.  Gordon didn’t think he’d left anything, but Scott could be slippery when he wanted to.

It was several minutes before he got a reaction, Scott making a decision like the commander he was. An arm moved, brushing against Gordon’s as it did, before a hand wrapped around his fist.  The touch was firm and warm, but not restraining or trying to pry him off.  Instead, it just stayed there, squeezing lightly before falling still.

“Thanks, Gordon.”

Victory.

“Any time, bro,” he grinned, wriggling around to get comfortable and throwing a leg over Scott’s, just because he could.  “Now get some sleep.  Big day tomorrow.”

“Voice of experience?”

“Yup.”  He popped the ‘p’ just because he could, and because it always made Scott roll his eyes.  “You’ll need all the sleep you can get.”  He kicked the covers until he could reach them with the hand not grasping his brother’s top and pulled them up.

“Aren’t you going to go back to your room?”  Scott sounded amused, with some put-on disgruntlement that Gordon ignored.

“Nah,” he dismissed, settling back down and wrapping his arm back around his brother again.  “I’m comfy now.”

Scott laughed a little. They both knew Grandma and Dad had placed a ‘do not disturb’ order on Scott and that he was at least somewhat avoiding being caught sneaking back out.  There wouldn’t be time to tell him off in the morning while they were rushing around ready for the party.

“Night, Gordon.”

“Night, big bro.”  He burrowed down against his big brother’s back and closed his eyes, content that he’d got at least somewhere in pounding some truths into Scott’s stubborn head and genuinely comfortable where he was.

Sometimes, his big brother’s shadow was his favourite place to be.

[skevans]

Nocturne op.72 no.1 — Essay

Hi, welcome to my long-forgotten tumblr I barely remembered existed. Dust and cobwebs aside, this is an essay I initially wrote in French for a Literature class. Don't ask me how the hell I found the will to hand this in to my teacher, bless his soul.

A couple of years later, I found that essay in the depth of a folder on my computer. I remembered what was in it, to a point, but when I decided to read it again, I got very emotional (and very mortified 'cause oh god school). And during the following weeks, I started thinking about a lot of things that were still floating unresolved within my head. But then, I decided to write. And after a few days of internal debate, I posted the first chapter of A Sea of Silence.

It's been months since I finished that story, and those months have not been kind to me for many reasons. And maybe that's why, this week, I started thinking about that essay. When I did, I was overcome with a desire to share it with the world—and especially with the people who read my fic. So here it is, hastily translated but just as honest. Please note that it discusses anxiety.

And so, thank you if you take the time to read this, and an even bigger thank you if you read the essay, too! 

Nocturne op.72 no.1

When I think back on my childhood, I hear the sound of piano. Various melodies follow me, accompanying me in a waltz between memories. It’s my mother’s interpretation of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata that haunts the quiet moments. My sister and I would play in an adjacent room, glowing with delight as our mother started the first movement. It’s the piece’s somber and melancholic tone that colours my memory, but it’s a good kind of darkness—the kind that feels like the soft touch of night as you walk under the stars. My mother didn’t stop there; she would segue into the second movement, a graceful interlude that almost got swallowed in between the grandiosity of the other movements. And at last, she would tackle the final piece. I remember the anticipation; I remember wanting to watch her fingers fly over the keys. We would sneak in the living room—don’t make so much noise, you’re gonna bother her!—and thus we became the spectators to a private concert. The combination of semiquavers and staccato, everything played presto agitato, was the most fascinating thing. And despite the intensity and the tempestuous rhythm, I would sense my muscles relaxing, my thoughts lightening, the frenetic beat of my heart slowing. When I listen to this piece now, there’s still a glimpse of that long forgotten peace.

I turn six and I learn the piano. It’s a decision that comes from me, but also from my mother. It’s a decision that pleases me, even enchants me. The learning process goes well; I love to learn and I love to play—a rarely seen fervour seizes me. My motivation originates both from a desire to walk into my mother’s footsteps and from a childish inclination to create noise. The teacher likes me, and the sentiment is reciprocal; she speaks with a soft voice, but underneath there is an unyielding tone that I come to respect. She nudges me forward, constantly making sure that I don’t neglect my practice. I try to meet her expectations because I want to succeed, but also to maintain that impression of calm that possesses me when I sit at the piano.

The next step is to play at a recital, so we set off for the musical conservatory. I’m ten the first time I play before an audience. Panic controls me—I worry I won’t be able to perform, and the thought loops in my mind until I believe it. I climb on the stage in spite of my terror, and the room morphs into a cage. At 10 years-old, the size of the concert hall is intimidating, to a point that my heart crawls up my throat. The exit is far—way too far—and all the stares fixed on me feel more like I’m attending a trial than a recital. My hands become damp (how will I play if my hands slip?), but wiping them on my dress of red velvet means showing my fear—and my father always tells me not to show my fear. So I look at the floor and force my legs to move until finally, finally, I stand before the piano. I sit. Even now, I believe it’s impossible for me to play my piece, that piece I yet find so easy. I take my time adjusting the bench; once done, my hands reflexively settle over the keys. One deep breath—and I start to play. That tranquility I’m so desperate for guides me, and the audience fades from my mind. My eyes track my fingers as they find all the notes—not one mistake—and for a moment, it’s like I’m floating over my body, surrendering utter control to instinct and music. Once the piece ends and my hands lift from the piano, it’s the thunderous applause that tugs me back into reality; I walk off the stage, that paralyzing feeling of fright dismissed.

The feeling that possesses me is anxiety. At 6 years-old, as I begin learning the piano, I don’t know what anxiety is; the only thing I understand is that music offers solace. When I turn 10, I can’t find the word to explain that emotion that assaulted me as I stepped on the stage. It’s with time that I discover the word “anxiety”. I see my reflection in the definitions I find in dictionaries and on the web; it’s those definitions that grasp onto me, that glue themselves over me until I cannot dissociate them from my being without ripping out of my skin. The term “anxiety” now belongs to me—or rather, I belong to it. The years pass and my thoughts cede before it. My anxiety takes control of me for a period of my life; I have lost all mastery of myself. I graduate from high school with terrible difficulty; I drop out of college three times. But anxiety doesn’t stop there; she smears her poison throughout all spheres of my life. My relationship with my family degenerates slowly but surely—so do many of my friendships. Working becomes a hurdle because my boss at the store agitates me with her severe attitude—it feels like nothing is never enough and everything is wrong. I cannot stand myself anymore. Anxiety seeps into my body, an army of swarming bugs that infiltrate all I am as an individual. They contaminate me from the inside, and I am nothing but a puppet, subjected to circumstances out of my control. And this lasts and lasts and lasts for eight years—eight long years. I lose my footing and fall into the arms of depression several times. Appointments with doctors tell me what I already knew. We try solutions and then more solutions; there are good times, scarce but cherished. But happiness and peace of mind slip through my fingers like grains of sand; I grab another handful, but it was never meant to last. These feelings end up seeming distant, unreachable, impossible. I mind myself to the fact that I will have to live with the physical and emotional wounds my anxiety inflicts on me. Time and experience allow me to gauge my level of comfort and how to react; sometimes, I cannot step out of my apartment. And so life goes on—and I am swept away by the tides.

Thinking back on this slice of my life, I’ve come to several conclusions. There were many happenings that were completely out of my control—and yet, as I dig deeper and deeper, I realize that this deviation originates from one thing in particular.

The year I turn 15, I experience an acute pain in my right wrist. Holding a pen for longer than a few minutes is impractical; playing piano on a regular basis is impossible. Those news, validated by a medical consultation, are not surprising—but they are heartbreaking. Later, the pain extends to my shoulder. Within weeks, I become an unwilling witness to the collapse of my dream of studying and teaching piano. The problem comes from within me, within my body—my love for the piano is the trigger to this pain. I’m told that a cure is implausible—you can do exercises to lessen the pain, and you have to eliminate repetitive movements since they will worsen it, and yes, miss, that includes the piano. I used to play piano at least one hour a day, something that unconsciously kept my anxiety at bay—but the inability to play for longer than a few minutes opens the door to my anxiety. I discover myself anew when I’m 16: tirelessly worried, always anxious, terribly distrustful. It’s the start of the downward spiral. I am not me anymore, I am someone else. Anxiety is my mother, instability is my father, fear is my sister. I am reborn into an unknown world dubbed Real Life by my family, who firmly believe this is part of being a teenager. But I don’t believe in this Real Life, and I pray to all and nothing for a miracle. I only know one line of prayer so I make up my own. I fill fictive litanies with my fears and my hopes. Amen. I refuse to consider this existence as True because to me, it can only be False. But my convictions are tossed aside, their dismissal hammered into me endlessly. It’s almost as if a huge neon sign hangs on a wall of my bedroom: Welcome to Real Life! But all I see are ridiculous directives that only bring misfortune—don’t forget to register for our latest draw! Discover what setbacks you will endure next! I don’t want this—I refuse, I reject, I refute. It’s the song of my mind, playing on repeat; I want to believe it—I want to believe it more than anything else because I have exhausted all of my solutions and the future beyond is veiled in uncertainty.

But with time, I realize that simply wanting something, no matter how much, doesn’t mean it will slip into the world through the cracks of my resolve. And so, I begin to toil over my own fate. I try to shape it. I fail. I try again. It’s a cycle with no end in sight. I wander aimlessly through life, and thus I discover more of myself and I try to understand. Questions assail me; most of the time, there is no answer; when there are, they are often unpleasant. Still, I accept them—because I have learned that closing my eyes and rejecting a reality will not bring me anything. This crushing problem, this anxiety that manipulates me, I try to be aware of it—and in the end, I accept it. She is part of me, too intrinsic for me to surrender her; she welded her existence in my foundations, and if I break free, I negate myself. But what crystallizes with time is the recognition that I’m living a fight that I believed lost before even entering the arena. It’s an intimidating fight: my adversary is formidable, and there is no end in sight; it’s an everlasting battle that occurs every hour, every minute, every second. And yet, I am not done—I gather my arsenal, I warm up, and I entre the arena. No referees—this isn’t a fair fight; there cannot be a winner, only moments of victory. My adversary steps forward, and in her, I see me—me as I was for eight long years. The signal goes off and we begin. No turning back now.

Strangely, what helps me survive the daily fights is time. Throughout this turbulent journey, my wrist undertakes its never-ending recovery. Nine years later, the dreadful pain I felt at every move has become a memory. I live alone now, and getting access to a piano is not always easy; neither is it regular. But one day—one day, I decide to try again. I make my way to my mother’s house on a day where she and her husband are absent; the fragility of my resolve hangs over me, and I cannot let it waver out of self-consciousness. In the basement are all of my mother’s sheet music—all of my sheet music—and it takes a lot of searching before I finally find the last piece I learned when I was 15. The last piece I ever played. Too eager, I snatch Chopin’s Nocturne op.72 no.1 off the floor, grabbing a few more sheet music from that part of my life forever ago. At last, I sit on the piano bench. I open the booklet, flipping through the pages until I find the Nocturne; it’s one of my favourites, whether by coincidence or a design of my own. But it’s with wretched bitterness that I realize I am unable to play the piece. Not only has it been nine years, but my dexterity has vanished, bidding me goodbye with a mocking smile. My fingers each weigh a pound; I hear myself strike the keys with a mortifying clumsiness; the resulting sound is disappointing, closer to chaotic noise than the flowing music of my memories. Nothing happens like I want it to. However, the same passage of time that helped my injury gave me the strength to cross out the word “abandon” from my vocabulary. I sometimes know victory, more often I know defeat, but what has become unfamiliar is capitulation. So I close the booklet, hiding the piece I yearned for, and I pick another one. It’s an easy piece, but in truth, nothing seems easy anymore; the piece is a crutch, a stepping stone towards more. In time, I will get sick of hearing Chopin’s Waltz op.69 no.2, my mind saturated by the melody from months of practice. It’s a challenge, and I start to get obsessed with the notion of learning this piece, because learning it means I can learn more. Nothing will stop me.

There is progress, but it’s slow and it’s tedious. Each week, I ride the bus to my mother’s house so I can practice for one hour, sometimes two. These hours are precious; I try not to squander them and I try even harder to remind myself this is just the beginning. My wrist still hurts at times; whenever I test my limits, a zap of pain echoes through my hand, signalling the end of the practice. It slows me down, frustrates me to no end, but the possibility of not playing for another nice years snaps me out of those low moments. And one day, six months later, I pick up Chopin’s Nocturne op.72 no.1 again. I start with the left hand; the constant rhythm of the triplets played legato rips the stitches of a long-buried wound. A ghost rises out of it—it’s Me as I was, and it possesses me, guiding my hand with its cold touch. I play the first line, then the second; soon enough, I jump to the second page. I am not here, not really; rather, I am lost to that old fragment of beloved peace. Now that I recognize the beast in me as anxiety, I finally understand that those moments of solace happen when I hear the twinkling notes of the piano. And so I get on my feet in the arena and I stand ready to continue the eternal fight. There are other ways to keep anxiety away, to rationalize it, and I think back on my first fifteen years, nearly empty of anguish, full of other pains, but also filled with hours of music. I learn Chopin’s Nocturne in three months. It’s not perfect—it will never be—but I can play it. I play it until I can do so with my eyes closed.

The year I decide to sit at the piano again, I return to school. The first semester is trying; I haven’t studied seriously in over five years—good habits are difficult to unearth. I try to keep my demanding job despite the crushing amount of pressure, but there comes a moment where I cannot breathe under that weight, and stress wins once more. Everything appears ready to crumble before it began. Luckily, my mother realizes that my fragile pyramid of cards is about to fall, and she wakes me up with harsh and well-aimed and true words; we don’t always understand each other then, and feelings get bruised, but in time, things will change for the better. I still fail the classes I took; I search for a new job. My anxiety hit me with an uppercut that could have turned the tables in her favour, but I stand again and again—I stand long enough to finish college a year later. I am 24 the day I hand in my final project that allows me to graduate. As I walk out of the building, there is pride accompanying me, but most of all, it’s a soothing sensation of satisfaction that wraps itself around me. It resembles that peace of mind I find from the piano, and that is what makes me smile.

The next fall, I have my own piano. The opportunity to play whenever is still incredible. Not long before the purchase, the pain in my wrist flares once more, stronger than before. But this time, I know what to expect. I adapt instead of running away; I’m not 15 anymore and I have so much more experience in the suitcase I carry through life. I get tests done in hope of a permanent solution; they reveal nothing new, but the professional advice that follows those tests opens the door to new possibilities to rein in the pain. Those possibilities are comforting in their own way; that absolute sense of defeat is now barely discernable.

I still believe that the Me from over ten years ago will not come back to life; she doesn’t exist anymore; her only vestige is her love for music. But that is alright—I am not the same person I was at 6 years-old when all I knew was the music weaving through the house. I am someone else, so I baptize myself anew. I allow myself the sanctity of a second chance, that unreachable notion always evading me. But this time, I chase it. I grasp it close to my heart. I take it—and I live it.

[redrobin-detective]

The craziest AU of all: mineta as a decent fucking human being. Would anything in canon be changed based on his behavior do u think? 👀

the mineta redemption no one asked for

x

Minoru was always compensating for something. He was short, awkward, too smart but didn’t know how to use it and his quirk wasn’t useful in any practical setting. Like all his classmates, he wanted to be a hero. The fame and quirk use were nice but at the heart of it all, Minoru just wanted to be liked. He trained and studied and passed the Yuuei exam even as he knew that he wasn’t really hero material. His nerves and desire for attention and affection led to him making inappropriate decisions.

“Mineta, this is the second time you’ve been cited for harassment and its not even been a week,” his scary homeroom teacher had said. “Tell me, is that heroic behavior?”

“No, sensei,” he mumbled back, ashamed once more that it had gotten to this point. He loved pretty girls and, moreover, loved the camaraderie and attention the other boys gave him when talking about them. That combined with his poor impulse control had landed him in the hot seat, again. 

He was scared all the time. His dreams were bigger than his abilities, than his confidence and his desire for attention far outstripped his common sense. Minoru was no hero and he knew it. He was a grape among giants.

Minoru tried to ride it out, see if maybe he could keep his head down and graduate with his license and do some low level hero work. Enough to keep his head above water but nothing exciting. Then the USJ happened and he came close to dying, close to watching his classmates die. It was there he saw real heroes. Aizawa-sensei kicking ass and taking serious hits for them. Midoriya rushing in without a plan or a solid grip on his quirk just to help out. All Might busting in and assuring them that nothing would happen so long as he was here.

Minoru couldn’t pretend any more, couldn’t take a seat from someone who deserved it. So the next day, he requested to be transferred to Gen Ed. It had been fun while it lasted, maybe Kaminari would still text him.

“I don’t think General would suit you,” Aizawa said through his full body cast. Minoru didn’t think about how his (former) teacher didn’t dispute him leaving. “Try Business. You have a good head on your shoulders and you know heroes, I think you would thrive there.”

Not knowing what else to do, Mineta accepted and started in the Business course the following day. He was an instant celebrity.

“Was it true your whole class was attacked by villains?”

“What quirks did your classmates have to fight off villains the first week of school?”

“Man with you here, we have an in to the most sought after hero course in decades!”

His new class, Class J, welcomed him readily and looked to him for advice. They didn’t think he was lesser, didn’t mock him, didn’t question why he changed classes suddenly. As much as he’d like the kids in 1A, it was here he felt at home. Two whole weeks passed before he realized that he hadn’t made a single lewd comment about the pretty business girls. He had enough friends, enough confidence that he didn’t need to chase skirts to feel part of the team. 

Though he didn’t have to, he participated in the Sports Festival, teaming up with his old classmates for the cavalry battle. It felt good seeing them again but in his head he was still thinking of stats and marketing capabilities.

“You seem happier,” Tsuyu noted after the tournament ended. “I’m glad, you never seemed comfortable in 1A.” 

“I am, I really like what I’m doing and I’m uh I’m sorry for what I did to you and the others before. It wasn’t mature of me to uh take out my stress on you,” he said shyly. She patted his shoulder.

“I can’t say I was happy about the things you did but I forgive you.”

“I hope you’ll forgive me enough to possibly let me do my marketing essay on you,” he blushed and looked away. “You saved my life, at the USJ, you’re my hero and I won’t ever forget that.” 

“Sure,” she said with a froggy grin. “Here’s my phone number, let me know what information you need. I’ll see you around, I want to wish the others luck.”

“Tell them I said hi,” Minoru said without a trace of jealousy. “I’d like to still keep in touch, you know, for marketing purposes.”

“Of course, see you,” Tsuyu said before wandering off. Minoru looked at the phone number in his hands. The first time he’d gotten a number from a girl. His first impulse was to text her all sorts of cheap one-liners. Maybe the old Minoru would have done that but this one had a new goal in mind, to bridge the gap between heroics and business. 

He’d seen first hand how amazing Class 1A was, he would ensure that everyone else did too. He tucked the phone number into his pocket and went back to where 1J was gathered. His family was waiting for him.

[loverdrew]

Promise, You Won’t Fall In Love With Me

He never knew love. He never understood relationships. He never imagined his life after high school or outside of his fame. She was the opposite. She deeply loved her family, she had ambition, intelligence and drive. They were the complete opposite, but together, they wouldn’t know what to do without each other.

Inspired by the movie A Walk To Remember.

Senior year. The year all the students turn 18, throw the wildest parties, the lifelong dreams of getting acceptance letters from their dream college. However, the Ethan Dolan didn’t have to worry about that one bit. He already had a future. He would continue making video comedy content online for his millions of girl fans that adored his soft eyes and bright smile. After this year he would move to California to pursue even bigger dreams, leaving his heart in New Jersey. 

The hallways and outside the school yard filled with laughter, hugs, girls wearing close to nothing, and the guys drooling over them. Ethan walked in holding his football, jersey on full display, taking in the last first day of any schooling he’d ever get. 

“My boys!” One of his friends, Jason, exclaimed. He hugged both Grayson and Ethan and put both arms around them walking into school. “This going to be the best year yet?”

“Oh you know it! The parties, the easy classes, the girls!” Grayson rubbed his hands together and laughed.

Ethan’s laughed along with his friends walking into the building, when the most unexpected girl caught his eye at her locker. It was Y/N. He had known her since kindergarten, she always wore the same type of outfit: a pastel skirt to her knees and a blouse with the same beige knitted sweater. Her hair always out of her face either in a ponytail or behind her ears, and she wore a brown shoulder bag to carry her books. They never particularly talked or even hung out together, but he somehow knew everything superficial about her. She never paid him any attention, except in class when he tried to be disruptive on purpose. He weirdly wished she would pay attention then. But he’s hooked up with prettier girls than her, so she wasn’t one to be upset over, right?

“Ethan Dolan, to the principals office. Ethan Grant Dolan, please come to the principals office.” They all heard, even Y/N. Their eyes met for a split second, before she closed her locker and headed to home period. 

“Damn dude, trouble on the first day?” Jason joked.

“Shut up man. You know I’m the model student.” He smirked, shaking hands with his friends before headed to the office, which happened to be right across from Y/N’s home period, not like he noticed. He swiftly walked into the office and sat in the chair in front of principle Henderson, who closed the door with a stern look on his face.

“Ethan, what did I tell you about getting into trouble again.” He crossed his arms.

“Principle Henderson, I don’t know what you mean but I have been an angel since last semester, haven’t I?” He flashed that boyish smile of his that got him out of every situation, just not this one. 

The principle proceeds to pull out 5 beer bottles and 2 bitter nubs of used joints. Ethan stiffened, his mouth running dry.

“I have no idea what those are.” He said quietly.

“Cut the act Dolan. Along with drinking and smoking on school property, you’re on the verge of not graduating. You have a combined GPA of 2.3. You need at least a 2.9 to graduate. Now I could expel you and kick you off the football team now...” Ethan begins to worry sit up straight, trying not to believe this could be true. “But I won’t.” Ethan looked up at him with a big sigh, eyes falling shut.

“Thank you, thank you so much Mr.Henderson I promise I’ll be even better-”

“You didn’t let me finish. Instead of doing all that, you’re going to be doing something for me. You will get a tutor which I will assign to you, and you’ll be spending time after school participating in our schools fall play.”

“Oh cmon Mr. Henderson you can’t be serious. I can’t act, at all.”

“You acted like you didn’t know where that bottle came from. And now you’ll act as the prince in our schools production of Beauty and the Beast.” Ethan struggled with the principles decisions, but if he didn’t do it he would’ve been destroyed having to give up his friends and football. 

“When do rehearsals start.” He said plainly.

______

At lunch, instead of being in the lunchroom with his group of friends laughing and being dorks together, he was stuck in the library for the next 45 minutes, waiting for whoever his new tutor is. He tapped his pencil impatiently. All he had to do was pass English and Government/Economics with at least a 75% and he’d be golden, but even he didn’t know how he could manage that. He looked around, and heard the library door open in front of him, revealing the golden eyed girl walking in with such ease. Her eyes found his and slightly pulled at her bag strings nervously. He sighed in disbelief, of course the girl with straight A’s, captain of the science club and the church singer was his tutor. 

“Hi Ethan. I’m Y/N, your tutor for this semester.” She said in a soft voice just above a whisper. “Today we’re just going over basics explained in the syllabus but it won’t take long, maybe 25 minutes so you’ll be able to run off with your friends.” She took a seat in front of him, opening up the Government textbook and her notebook with the classes syllabus laid out.

“I don’t need you to do me any favors okay, I just need to pass. I would think you’d want me here considering Ms. I’m-so-holy doesn’t have many friends.” He spat at her. Partially because he felt embarrassed, partially because he didn’t want to give her any impression that he in any way cared about her. It didn’t even phase her, being that her whole life was filled with constant ridicule and bullying. She stayed calm amidst his venomous words.

“The teachers are my friends, my church choir are my friends, my father is my friend. Please don’t pretend like you know me, Ethan. You haven’t even spoken to me ever.”

“But I’ve been going to school with you and living in the same neighborhood as you since we were 5. Your father is a prodigious doctor that always goes to church to watch you sing. You’ve lived in the same white house with the pink flowers surrounding the white painted porch. You always wear pastel colors because you like to be girly but don’t want attention. You started putting your hand back in middle school because it always got in your face when you were studying. I know you Y/N. Don’t act like you don’t know me either.”

“I know you Ethan. Which means I know you’re capable of doing greater things than being the stereotypical jock. You’re successful and talented and smart, learn to use it. Now let’s get started.” She said without even looking at him, and staring daggers into her book. 

_____

After school, Ethan trudged his way to the schools theatre, where everyone would be meeting up for the parts and the production of the play. No surprise that Y/N was there, script in hand near the piano, while someone playing ‘Beauty and the Beast’, and she hummed along. The stage lights somehow made her skin shine brighter, and her hair glisten. He scoffed, and sat in the 3rd row, seeing all of the theatre nerds gather with smiling faces ready to start production.

“Alright everyone settle down. We are going to cast roles right now so listen up!” Ms. Davida clapped her hands and stood in front of the stage. 

“For the role of Lumiere and Cogsworth, Louis and Jeremy! Mrs. Potts goes to Claira, Gaston goes to Derrick, Belle goes to of course, Y/N, and The Beast is played by the newest member to theatre Mr. Ethan Dolan.” Ethan knew he would get the lead, but Y/N did not. Her eyes spread wide, whites fully visible as her grip on her script tightened just slightly, the realization that she’d have to play his princess. She could barely handle his demeanor during tutoring, but in something that she loves to do she would only hope he wouldn’t ruin it for her. 

“Opening night is in exactly 3 months just before Christmas break, so that means you’ll all need to work hard and together to make this production amazing but I believe in you all. So let’s get right to it! Ethan, Y/N on the stage please we will be starting with the scene when Belle and the Beast argue, right after he saves her from the wolves. Feel the anger, feel the frustration.” She had that typical musical theatre teacher ‘passion voice’, really trying to emphasize the feelings within the scene. Ethan couldn’t take her seriously, laughing as he jumped onto stage and grabbing ahold of a script. 

“Y/N, you start and pretend that you’re cleaning up his wound.”

Y/N slightly rolled her eyes and put her hand out signaling Ethan to give her his arm. He sighed and slammed his arm into her palm, she then yanked it closer to her not caring if it hurt him, and pretended with her other hand to be patting it.

“If you’d hold still it wouldn’t hurt it as much!” She yelled her first line. Ethan could tell some of that frustration was real. So he decided to do the same.

“Well if you wouldn’t have run away, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“If you wouldn’t have frightened me I wouldn’t have run away!”

“Well you shouldn’t have been in the West Wing!”

“Well you should learn to control your temper.” She said plainly, as if it was an actual piece of advice.

“Now hold still. This might sting a little.” In the script it says for Ethan to wince in pain, so he did, just not well at all. It was forced, and painfully bad to watch his face squint uncomfortably. Y/N sighed, turning to the teacher.

“Ms. Davida he needs to take this seriously, some of us really want this play to go well.”

“I don’t even want to be here, I was forced to join the play, I could’ve gone my entire life without acting in a play.”

“Then leave.” She stepped forward in his face, quickly walking away towards backstage to get some air. He made her so angry. His cocky attitude, his rude tone of voice, the way he could get under her skin over and over again yet she still wanted to see good in him because she truly believed he had some left. Ethan looked off with a surprised face to see all the cast looking at him, and the principle standing at the edge of the theatre, arms crossed. He got nervous, making his way backstage to catch Y/N drinking some water.

“Y/N, hey Y/N, please listen to me.” He grabbed her hand but she angrily pulled it back.

“What.”

“Help me okay. I’m sorry, I really need to do great in this play or else I get expelled. I’m sorry for being so mean and always in your face. I just-this is all new to me.”

“Being nice to someone trying to genuinely help you is ‘new to you’?” she used air quotes, rolling her eyes taking another sip of water. 

“No, trying new things. Trying to be good. I’ve always acted tough on purpose because I thought that’s how it should be. People give you more respect.”

“Your act only works on an audience.” Y/N saw through it since first day of kindergarten when he stole her crayons and snored next to her ear during nap time to annoy her. But she paid no mind, there were more important things to worry about than a little boy. 

“Ethan, if you promise me you try, like really try, in all aspects, I won’t be opposed to helping you.” She said calmly, with her normal soft voice.

“I won’t say I’ll be perfect, but I’ll do the best I can.”

“That’s all I ask.” She started walking back onto the stage where they were already rehearsing another scene, but she quickly turned back around to say one last minor detail.

“Oh yea and Ethan, one more thing. You have to promise not to fall in love with me.” 

A chuckle came from his mouth as he looked her up and down. 

“Without a doubt, that is a promise I can keep.”

[tired-college-student-writing]

Here we go Loopty Loo pt 2

Summary: Graduation was supposed to signal the final time they all spent time together at UA, to show they have all grown into the Heros they dreamed of being.

It was supposed to be, but when has anything ever been easy for class 1-A?

pt1

pt2 (HERE)

pt3

___________________________________________

Loop #7

___________________________________________

The Rules had begun in Loop #7 when the class realized that things weren’t always identical to the original timeline.

They realized this by waking up in class on the first day before the Quirk assessment like they had the last six times only to find each and every one of them was the opposite gender.

Aizawa was not proud to say he lost all cool in front of his students as he jabbed the frankly too large globs on his chest swearing obscenely as they jiggled. It did not help that instead of a jumpsuit he was wearing a skintight long-sleeved crop top and fucking tights with high heeled boots.

On the other hand, the students were not doing much better, each looking at each other and screaming, as they seemed to forget common courtesy and smacking each other’s chests.  

Some, like Midoriya, Jiro, Backugo, Ashido, and Todoroki looked similar to their usual appearances, while others like Sato, Iida, and Uraraka looked drastically different to the point that the only reason Aizawa could tell who they were were the mannerisms he was overly familiar with from them.

After a few minutes, he wrapped his head around it enough to slam his hands down on the closest desk and order them to calm down.

“Okay, I get we’re all having an existential crisis,” He snapped, “I get it, this wasn’t what I was expecting either. Clearly, we aren’t just returning to the start of our own timeline unless I’ve always had fucking D cups and no one deemed it important to share with me.”

The first order was to get everyone to their seats so Aizawa could go through the class list, going through the new names he… she knew the students would mess up more than once.

Aoyama Aki

Ashido Mareo

Asui Susumu

Iida Sumiko

Uraraka Kaito

Ojiro Megumi

Kaminari Emiko

Kirishima Etsu

Koda Kaya

Sato Riko

Shoji Miki

Jiro Kazuo

Sero Hiroko

Tokoyami Jakushitsu

Todoroki Suzu

Hagakure Taku

Bakugo Kasumi

Midoriya Kumiko

Shinso Toshiko

Yaoyorozu Kado

Great, she had to learn all their names again too, which reminded her, “My name is Aizawa Saki. My hero name has remained the same. Your other teachers are Yamada Himari, aka Presentation Mica, Ishiyama Kamin, aka Cemetoss, Kayama Naoki, aka Midnight, and Ectoplasm still demands we don’t tell the students her name, so deal with that.”

“All Might is Yagi Yoshiko,” Modriya piped up, “But she still coughs up blood when I call her anything other than All Might so let’s let her relax for a bit.”

Mo- Yaouarozu raised his hand, “Si- Sensei would creating a list of rules and changes that happen from each timeline so that we don’t trip up as much? I imagine this loop will be particularly difficult for obvious reasons.”

“You’re not wrong,” She agreed, rubbing a hand over her eyes, “Would it be possible for you to create a rolling whiteboard? It’ll be easier to hide and keep up for the next three years.”

The creation quirk user seemed more at ease now that he didn’t have to worry about flashing the entire class to create such a large object. It didn’t take long for it to be set up and Aizawa took the offered blue marker.

“Alright,” She breathed, drawing a seven at the top of the board before splitting it down the middle, “Rules to take through loops if we keep going and rules and changes to keep us from getting in trouble in this loop, how does that sound?”

The agreeal rang out as she started listing off things she’s used as rules of thumb since she had been sure they had been looping.

#1 - Only talk to the others that are looping about looping and previous timelines.

#2 - Do your best to make the changes between your consciousness from the original version of yourselves from this timeline seem as natural as possible, we do not need people thinking we’re Toga.

#3 - Reveal all relevant information on the changes to the timeline that you know at the first awakening, or when we’re all together after the first awakening.

#4 - If the stress gets too much talk to us, we’re all going through it together.

She paused from writing, tucking her still long hair from her face with a soft sigh before turning back to the students.

“Can anyone else come up with any other rules right now?”

The silence was all she needed, “Great, we can edit it down the line as things change, but I want you all to remember these rules. They might be the only thing keeping us sane depending on how long we’re stuck in these loops.”

___________________________________________

Loop #10

___________________________________________

He was going to bash their heads in, he swears to god these children were sending him to an early grave. Midoriya, Todoroki, Iida, and Uraraka had managed to track down the Hero Killer to try and get him to change his ways wasn’t a huge shocker, what had been a surprise had been that Mina, Tsu, Denki, and Jiro had joined forces with Stain to try and destroy quite a few heroes that were abusing their positions in society to harm others as they had discovered in previous timelines.

The result had been a huge nightmare and a media shit show. How the next two years were going to go now that these eight had to pretend to hate each other was going to make him go grey.

No one commented as their irritated teacher scrawled down a new rule. It seemed fair enough.

#5 - Any major timeline changing decisions are required to be discussed with the entire group present.

___________________________________________

Loop #21

___________________________________________

“Shit,” Mina cried the moment they woke up, “I’m the mole!”

“Oh I get a break then,” Aoyama hummed, “Oh exciting, the League was getting tiresome”

While it was nice to know ahead of time who to keep an eye on, Mina played the double-double agent a bit too well, informing them of everything they could possibly want for the timeline to go seamlessly, all the students could feel the

Aizawa didn’t even bother to get out of his sleeping bag when Iida stood up unprompted in the middle of the test he had given them, mostly for appearances since he knew they could ace it easy at this point, and stomped to the closet where they stashed the whiteboard.

#6 - If you have information that could make the timeline interesting if kept secret (such as being the mole) keep it secret.  

He stood next to the board, as if daring anyone to counter him, but Aizawa nodded.

“As much as peace is nice if I have to go through another timeline that’s this easy I might actually expel all you brats.”

“Does that mean we can be vigilantes?”

“No, I refuse to deal with you during the night if I decided not to see you during the day.”

___________________________________________

Loop #24

___________________________________________

The class just blinked in confusion as the villains fell to their knees in apparent pain. The USJ attack was old hat to them at this point, but the fights had barely started.

Dabi tried to stagger to his feet, hand held out as if to call forth his flames, only for nothing to happen. Around the different zones, the heroes were having similar dilemmas as they faced the seemingly depowered villains.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Midoriya screeched, once the time travelers had made it back to the classroom. They had rounded up all of the villains, confusion evident between the villains, pro heroes, and students on why the villains had suddenly lost access to their powers.

All Might suggested that perhaps All for One had something to do with it since it had appeared to be his quirk but couldn’t come up with a reason his enemy, who he knew from the large scar on his side was that he was, in fact, a villain this time, and not just a kindly father like had happened before.

He received an answer from an unexpected place.

Sero gave a small laugh, “So… fun fact, my great grandfather may or may not be All for One this time, and I may have All for One as a ‘second’ quirk…”

“Fucking hell,” Yagi groaned, face planting on the desk as the class stared at Sero with a combination of awe and fear.

However, the intrigue of their classmate having All for One was short-lived as they realized that the villain mastermind was not going to attack anytime in their next three years as he now had to recruit new henchmen to fight them, and well that took time to cultivate villainous intent that stood a chance against them.

It wasn’t even the end of year 1 and they were already so tired on just… being normal heroes in training. Even Yagi was at the end of his rope, deciding to retire early even if he hadn’t had to use up the last of One for All.

Bakugo glared at Sero as he amended rule six, the rest of the class staring down the sheepish boy.

#6 - If you have information that could make the timeline interesting for an extended period of time if kept secret (such as being the mole) keep it secret.

___________________________________________

Loop #63

___________________________________________

Aizawa coughed harshly trying to clear the dust from his lungs as the rumble shifted around him.

An ambush, it had to be, but… the class had been acting the same as ever. Aoyama had let slip that he wasn’t the mole this timeline, so the hunt for the mole as the attacks changed kept them all on their toes.

Yagi had assured Aizawa he would keep an ear out, telling them he was sure All for One was still out there, even if his wounds weren’t quite as grievous as they had been in the first timeline, causing him to look more like a sleek runner then skeleton true form they were used to seeing him in, though he could still transform into his buff form, holding it for almost the entire school day even after passing on One for All to Izuku.

It was a nice change overall, even if it was nearing the end of the class’s second year without a sighting of the evil bastard. The students had filled the space they usually spent in the longer battles tormenting Endeavor, with Aizawa giving convenient alibis for the students each time as long as they made sure to keep the dorm kitchen stocked with his favorite coffee brand.

But now, on a solo patrol, they struck.

He should have predicted this, but after almost 200 years of doing the same thing with only minor changes over and over again, he was growing sloppy, too comfortable with the norm to remember what it felt like to have pure adrenaline and fear running through his veins.

“Oh darn, you’re still breathing, I thought that would end you for sure,” A familiar voice groaned, causing Aizawa to try and spring to his feet only to find his leg pinned some of the fallen building.

A familiar lithe form sitting on top of the pile, staring into his soul with clear mirth in the oh so wrong looking purple depths.

“Toshinori?”

“Hello, Shouta-kun,” The man hummed, a smile pulling at his lips, a cruel imitation at the normally blinding grin, “Suprised?”

His eyes bulged as his heart lept to his throat. There was no way… All Might…

“What?” The symbol of Peace asked, “You were oh so busy looking for the mole with among the children, the other staff, even growing suspect of your closest friends, but you didn’t even bother letting me be a possibility did you?”

“But you’re All for One’s nemesis,”

The man laughed hopping down to stand over his fallen, “Oh I was, but the man you’re referring to is dead, Shouta-kun. He’s been dead since I fought him six years ago. ”

“You said he was still out there,”

“No, I said All for One was still out there,” Purple eyes blazed as he tapped the rubble, watching it explode, disassembled to the very base level.

“Overhaul…” Aizawa didn’t even try to get up, feeling ice going through his veins, “How…”

“When I faced All for One he became desperate,” Yagi explained with a sigh, as if reminiscing about a pleasant date, “He tried to shove as many quirks into as he could, hoping I’d explode from so much power in my system, but that’s the great thing about One for All, it stockpiles power. He didn’t realize until it was too late that by opening the connection between us, I was able to take his quirk from him. He crumbled into dust once the last of the quirks were left him. The powers, however, refused to join.”

“And you just what?” Aizawa demanded, “Decided to become the villain? What about giving Midoriya One for All?”

The man just laughed, “What’s a villain without a hero trying desperately to stop him? I spent so much time trying to save a society that doesn’t want saving, perhaps Young Midoriya can finally get through to them.”

“Kuruigiri,” He called before Aizawa can answer, and suddenly the pair were pulled through a portal and into a dimly lit cell, the other members of the League of Villians jeering around them. Aizawa felt overwhelmed, heart beating harder then it had in a long time, real fear churning in his gut.

“Nori?”

He felt the other time traveler pause at the name, understanding the silent demand.

They had made a system years ago, Aizawa couldn’t even remember which loop now. If the students ever needed one of their teachers to talk about the Loops, they would call them Shouta-sensei and Toshi-sensei, if they needed to call on each other, they became Nori and Sho.  

“Leave us,” Toshinori barked, and slowly watched the villains dissipate into the dark misty portals.

“Wh-”

Toshinori held up a hand and an ear-piercing ringing passed over them before fading.

“What was that?”

“Siren,” Toshinori hummed, “Until I release it they can’t hear what we say but they can still see us, so keep up that grumpy look of yours.”

His scowl deepened but the panic that had started clawing up his throat began to retreat, “What is going on?”

Toshinori chuckled, “I was under the impression that rule #6 was still in effect.”

“You’ve…” Aizawa couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling passed his lips, “You sly old man… you played us all like a fiddle this time didn’t you?”

“Fiddle?” Toshinori hummed, strutting across the room to a chest just outside the cell, “No, fiddles actually take effort, this was shockingly easy. After all who would ever believe the Symbol of Peace would be the big bad evil~”

Aizawa hummed in agreement, as the hero… villain turned back to him.

“So no, Shouta-kun,” Toshinori continued as he entered the cell, “I didn’t play you like a fiddle, I played you like the cheap kazoo you are,”

“I’m going to kill Denki for teaching you memes,”

“If they find you,” Toshinori chuckled, grabbing his wrists and handcuffing them to the bed.

“Oh, kinky,” Aizawa mumbled, “Haven’t seen those in a few loops.”

“Maybe next time we’ll be hit by a sex pollen quirk again,” Toshinori suggested with an eye roll, “Now hold still while I treat your leg.”

“Isn’t this counterproductive to your whole shtick?”

“Rule #6. What fun would it be if I let you die or stole your quirk?”

“Your buddies won’t question it?” Aizawa hissed as his wound was cleaned out.

“No,” Toshinori hummed but didn’t elaborate, sealing the bandage over the wound, “No stitches needed.”

“Good, your stitching is shit.”

Toshinori just huffed before rising, “I better return to the students, they’ll be oh so devastated to hear you’ve been taken.”

“ ¥ 10,000 Todoroki puts it together first,”

“ ¥10,000 says Young Shinsou catches me,” Yagi counters, not turning around.

“No giving him hints,”

Yagi just smiled as the ringing reappeared, “Wouldn’t dream of it, Shouta-kun.”

______________________________

Taglist:   

[stars-a-n-d-scars]

Mischief Managed.

Hey guys. So I know this story has been a bit of a mess with me posting it in parts, so I’ve decided to just put it all in one super-long post. Hope you like it!

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

Part 1

“Are you ready?”

Sirius grinned at James’ question, his grey eyes sparkling.

It was the last day. The last day they would ever spend as Hogwarts students. Graduation was over and done with, and the after-party had lasted a week and a half (in true Gryffindor fashion). Everyone had been suspended in a constant state of elation and bliss. Drinking, dancing and singing ‘till their voices were sore. But when the alcohol dried up and the music faded, they were back where they’d always been. Sirius, Remus, Peter and James, each sitting on their four-poster bed in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory. Oh, the times they’d had in this room. The years and years of spin the bottle, raucous laughter and drunken dancing spent with friends. The mental breakdowns, whispered comforts and hushed confessions.

Sirius looked around at the people beside him.

James, with his crooked glasses and messy hair. His brother. His hilarious, insane, loving (if not slightly tactless) brother. Sirius still remembered the moment they met. The black haired boy had just stepped through the barrier to platform 9 and 3/4 on the 1st of September his first year, when he bumped straight into James and sent his belongings flying everywhere. They’d both apologized, bending down hastily to pick up the items that were now strewn in the thoroughfare. Unfortunately, an occurrence of the same idea in both the boys’ minds at the exact same time led to a bumping of heads, that in turn led to both of them lying flat on the ground having made more of a mess than there was before. James and Sirius avoided each other for a second, both extremely embarrassed, but then they locked eyes and an uncontrollable fit of laughter overtook the both of them. This ended up with the two first years rolling around on the platform in hysterics yet again, completely oblivious to the judgmental looks they were receiving from other station-goers (and a particularly green set of rolled eyes from a pretty little red-haired witch). And from that moment on, James Potter and Sirius Black were inseparable.

A crunch brought Sirius out of his reverie. The source of the noise was, of course, Peter. That tiny little fellow who’d always been the most reliable of all the friends. He would never break a promise, that was for sure. Wherever his loyalties lay was where they would stay. The hundreds of pickles he’d gotten them out of with an early warning fro his designated position as the map-watcher (as the most attentive and observant of the four, it always made sense for Peter to be on lookout as the others got up to their usual antics) or with a particularly convincing dizzy spell. The fact that he was constantly hungry made him even more endearing, Sirius thought. He couldn’t help but be filled with pride and joy for his friend, when he looked at the man that mousy little first year boy he met on the train had become.

Finally, Sirius’ gaze landed on Remus. 7 years. 7 years and that boy never failed to make his heart skip a beat. He raised his amber eyes to meet Sirius’, and a gentle smile spread across his face. To the untrained eye, it would seem like an innocent grin of bliss. But Sirius knew his boyfriend too well to be fooled. It was a smile of sadness. Hogwarts was the only place Remus had ever felt accepted, had ever felt at home. And now they were leaving. Leaving the astronomy tower, where they’d had their first kiss, leaving the charms corridor where they’d pulled their first prank, leaving the Great Hall where they’d come out together. But Sirius knew that no matter where they were, those moments would always be with them. Even if a million miles separated them, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black would always have that.

As his eyes were drawn to where Remus was fiddling with the edge of his enormous sweater (which, by the way, Sirius had totally never stolen to sleep with when he was feeling lonely), he just couldn’t stop himself from standing up and planting a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek. Then, sliding his hand into the other boy - no, man’s, he stood to face James and his question.

“Ready as I’ll ever be”, he replied.

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Part 2

The four boys stood outside Filch’s office. They had spent weeks discussing whether or not to do what they were about to do, but they knew it was right. Filch was busy helping the house-elves move the trunks onto the Hogwarts Express, so they knew they had his office to themselves for at least another hour.

“Alohomora.”

Together, the Marauders took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The room was as it always had been. Shackles on the wall from Filch’s days as a torturer, filing cabinets against the wall. A single framed picture of Mrs Norris sat on his desk next to a vase of dried up flowers and a small vial of what looked suspiciously like veritaserum.

The four Gryffindors had probably spent more time in this office over the years than any of their classes combined (although Remus had always managed to get away with things that the others never could). Sirius’ mind was suddenly flooded with memories so vibrant that, for a second, he thought he might have time travelled.

It was 1st year. Remus, James, Peter and Sirius had just finished their first Charms class and were stowing their books in their bags and chatting about how they think they went when the distinct noise of a cleared throat interrupted their discussion. “Boys, I’m afraid I’m going to have to hurry to lunch before they run out of ham sandwiches. If you could please lock up the classroom when you leave, I would appreciate it.” That was Flitwick’s first mistake. His second was mistaking the identical grins on Sirius and James’ faces for ones of consent rather than mischief. The second he left the room, the boys began plotting.

“I say we put itching powder in his hat,” James suggested, but that idea was quickly shot down by several choruses of “I guess…”, “It’s a little unoriginal” and, of course, “BORING” (you can guess which one was Sirius). The next idea they generated involved a large number of items that were both unobtainable at that moment and probably highly illegal, so that one was dismissed too. However, as they say, this time’s a charm. Peter went and stood outside the door to signal in case anyone turned up, and James and Sirius got to work on the textbooks in the cupboard. Soon enough, each and every one had been transfigured into copies of “9 foolproof ways to a witch’s heart” (although they still looked like The Standard Book of Spells Grade 1 on the outside). Thank Merlin for McGonagall’s belief that they should start with the hard stuff and work backwards. Meanwhile, Remus had set to work on the chalk. After a solid 10 minutes of experimenting, he managed to make it so that it would only write out phrases like “Happy wife, happy life” and “Actions speak louder than words”. It would also produce a pink love heart-shaped bubble with every word written. Satisfied with their handiwork, the boys moved to leave just as Peter poked his head around the door to tell them that lunch was almost over. Another 5 minutes spent waiting outside the Charms classroom and they were starting to regret their decision to skip eating, because they were all starving. Peter even swore to always carry a snack with him from then on. But their regret was banished the second they heard the first signs of laughter emanating from inside the classroom. A few more minutes of chuckling passed and the boys congratulated each other on a prank well done, but perhaps a little too soon. Slowly but surely, the laughter died out and turned to yells as students started piling out of the door. Confused, Sirius turned to Remus for an explanation, and was met with a look of horror.

“There is a slight chance those bubbles won’t pop,” was all he needed to say. The rest was understood when the last student out of the door was followed by a tidal wave on bouncing pink hearts. The boys looked at each other in silence for a second, before they all burst out laughing. They laughed ‘till their sides split and they couldn’t breathe. And then, a sharp voice brought them out of their hilarity with a snap.

“I suppose this was your doing?” Minerva McGonagall asked, a sceptical look on her face. The boys tried to deny any involvement, but soon enough learned that it was really quite tricky too keep a poker face when you have Minerva McGonagall staring you down. After they admitted responsibility, she sighed and shook her head. “Detention. You’ll be at my office at 5 o’clock tonight or there will be consequences.” And then she did something unexpected. She smiled. “You boys really are quite the marauders, aren’t you?” She chuckled and then turned on her heel and walked off.

“Marauders. I like that,” said James. And the rest is history.

Sirius pulled himself back to the present, if unwillingly. Things were different now. They weren’t those kids anymore. There was a war on, and they were about to become a part of it. The realisation of just what they were leaving behind hit Sirius even harder when Remus reached into his pocket and put the Marauder’s Map on the table. Sirius knew they had all agreed it was the right thing to do, but that didn’t make it any easier.

He turned away as he heard Remus muttering over the map in Latin. After about 5 minutes, Remus stood up and announced he was done.

“What exactly did you do?” Peter asked, his mouth full as ever.

“Well, remember when I got you guys to cast spells on the map when we were making it so that it would insult anyone who tried to open it incorrectly in ways that we would? It was a spell like the one that the founders used on the Sorting Hat. They copied parts of their personalities into the object so that it would know what they would have wanted. I’ve just extended the spell a bit, so that the map will hide itself right here on Filch’s desk until it’s approached by someone who it thinks we would deem worthy to be the next Marauder”, Remus answered.

“You’re a fucking genius, you know, that right?” Sirius breathed, kissing his boyfriend.

“I know”, came the reply.

“Wait – but won’t Filch be able to feel it, even if he can’t see it?” asked James.

“No. Unless whoever is touching it is someone we think is fit to carry on our legacy, it won’t exist.”

The boys stood in silence for a minute. This was it. 7 years of education, pranks and friendship, all poured into that old piece of parchment. Finally, Sirius broke the silence.

“So what do we do to activate the spell?”

Remus smiled that sad smile again. “Its simple. We just need to tap the parchment and say ‘Mischief Managed’”.

A sudden exclamation came from James. “Oh, that’s fucking fine! I didn’t need my heart anyway. What’re you trying to do to me Lupin?”

They laughed. And then they stepped forwards and placed their wands on the parchment.

Together the Marauders opened their mouths and said, for the last time “Mischief Managed”.

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Epilogue

Remus, Sirius, Peter and James walked out to join the others at the Hogwarts Express. Everyone was waiting around to board, and the 7th year Gryffindors were standing near the back, surveying the scene. The marauders joined their friends and stood facing their future.

As the sun set, eight silhouettes were framed against the darkening sky.

James, with his arm around Lily, watching the reflection of the sky in her eyes.

Peter, deep in discussion with Mary about the war.

Marlene, crying silently into her girlfriend Dorcas’ shoulder.

And Remus, his arm around Sirius’ shoulder.

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The Marauders was always more than just the four Gryffindor boys of the 70s. They were all Marauders. And, in the end, so were we.

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Guys, I really hope you liked this! Personally I loved writing it, it started as an idea that Filch never took the map they planted it for the next generation to find and turned into this huge 2000 word story. I guess words fly when you’re writing (if that makes any sense). 

Anyway, have a wonderful day and I wish you all good things!

- Mia  💜

[lostttandinsecuree]

My First 8 Months as an RN.

December 18, 2019 I graduated from nursing school with my bachelor’s of science in nursing, or, BSN. I spent 4 and a half years studying my ass off, canceling dates, missing family events, etc. and now finally I was going to show off my success. 

Let me back up a little bit though. I started college in 2015, right after high school. I knew what I wanted to do, but it was so overwhelming and I didn’t know how I could accomplish something like this. I’m the first one in my family to get a college degree. After high school graduation, my grandmother became terminally ill, and after a long battle, we lost her in July of 2015. She was my strength and motivation. I truly didn’t know how to live in a world without her. She had been so proud of me for my decision to go to nursing school. Without her, I felt like I couldn’t do it. 

I’ve been dealing with anxiety and depression since I was 14, but when I lost my grandma, I fell down into a really dark path. I almost blew off college completely. I avoided talking to a lot of people I was closest with, and in turn lost some friends. However, I knew I had to go to college. My grandma would’ve been so disappointed in me if I blew off my dream. So I went. I made some acquaintances, but no one I would really call a good friend during my first couple of semesters taking prerequisite courses for my program. I fell in love with a boy who shattered any bit of self- esteem I had left. I skipped classes here and there. I wasn’t sleeping enough or eating enough but I still powered through because I didn’t want to be a failure. I got accepted into the nursing program to start my nursing courses in the fall of 2017. I was excited and nervous but so happy my hard work was paying off even if I had slacked off some. Summer of 2017, right before my nursing classes were to begin, I attempted suicide and landed myself in a behavioral health unit for 5 days. I finally had lost control of myself. 

If you had asked me at that time where did I see myself in 5 years, I never would’ve believed that I would manage to graduate college or become an RN even though that was my dream. Truthfully, I didn’t see myself even living to be 23. After being hospitalized, I started to see a therapist. I also started to see a psych nurse practitioner. I started a combination of drug therapy and behavioral therapy and although it’s been a struggle, I’m in such a great place now. During my nursing school journey, I made amazing friends who became my family. I learned how to reach out for help when I needed it. I was finally back in control again.

December 18, 2019, I graduated with my BSN, and already had an RN job lined up. The day I thought would never come was finally here. All my studying was finally going to be over. (After I took NCLEX of course) It was finally time for me to schedule my NCLEX. (my board exam for my license) Although I made it through my program, I was terrified of failing the NCLEX. 

February 7, 2020 I sat to take my NCLEX. My test shut off in 75 questions (the minimum required) and I was horrified. You can pass or fail in 75 questions, and I was convinced I had failed miserably and would need to re-take the exam again. February 8, 2020 I received my congratulations e-mail letting me know I had passed my exam and was officially a registered nurse. Although I had already been working at my hospital as an aide, I would now be starting my new career as an RN on February 10, 2020. 

For those who don’t know, you go through a minimum of 8 weeks of orientation as a brand new nurse. It can be longer depending on the area you will be working in, or the place you are working at. My preceptor and I had a lot of differences. I never knew what kind of mood she would be in, and it was discouraging to me as a new nurse. I was almost afraid to ask questions because she wasn’t always the nicest person. She made me feel incompetent a lot, but looking back I think she was just trying to push me to be the best I could be. With that being said, I’m so grateful she was my preceptor. I learned so much from her in the time I trained with her. Because of her, I’ve learned to be more confident and advocate for my patients. I’ve learned how to give tough love to patients that need it. I’ve learned how to be caring and compassionate while also standing firm and doing what’s best for my patients. I’ve even learned how to adapt to constant change especially being in the midst of a pandemic.

I’ve only been a nurse out of training since April 2020. In that time I’ve had a lot of ups and downs. I’ve had good nights and I’ve had horrible nights where I’ve sat in my car and cried after work before driving home to sleep. I’ve had nights where I’ve had to go into my boss’s office in the morning and tell her what I screwed up this time. I’ve worked 13+ hour shifts to ensure I completed everything I needed to do. I go to work a half hour early so I can spend time looking at patients’ charts so I can better understand their story. My goal each shift is to put a smile on my patients’ faces and let them know that I care and I will do the best I can for them. In my 8 months as an RN thus far, I’ve dealt with my first death, being punched by a patient, having a walker thrown at me by a patient, I’ve been verbally abused by patient family members, etc. However, I’ve also been thanked endlessly for what I do. Patients have told me they’re proud of me for being the nurse that I am and being so young. I’ve laughed and cried with patients. I’ve sat in patient rooms for long periods of time just so they could talk to me about what is going on in their lives and how scared they are. I’ve been the difference in others’ lives. Becoming an RN was no easy task. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done hands down, but it is also the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. I’m nowhere near feeling like I know anything, but that’s okay because I learn something new each day. I know I will never know EVERYTHING, but I always challenge myself each night to learn about something new. Being an RN has changed my life for the better.  I’ve grown as a person. I’ve grown in confidence. I’ve finally found my voice. I’m not perfect. I still have bad days. I still go to therapy to let out thoughts in my head. However, I finally feel like I have a purpose in life. I was made to help out others.

So, here’s to the 8 months I’ve been a nurse, and here’s to the many years to come. I don’t know where my career will take me, but I cannot wait to find out. 

[ba-mi-soro-orisha]

Tomi Adeyemi wants to wrap her readers in a “dangerous but warm” blanket. Her young adult novels—the hit epic Children of Blood and Bone and its highly anticipated new sequel, Children of Virtue and Vengeance—combine escapist fantasy with clear-eyed confrontations of race and power. “I was thinking: you’re creating a Snuggie,” the Nigerian-American author tells TIME. “It’s a violent Snuggie, but create the Snuggie.”

Adeyemi’s first book, which came out in 2018 and has spent 90 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list, transports readers to the kingdom of Orïsha, where teenager Zélie Adebola is determined to bring magic back to her oppressed people. In the novel inspired by West Africa, Adeyemi’s protagonist teams up with a rogue princess to help fight the monarchy, which mercilessly wiped out magic years before in order to gain more power. In the sequel, Zélie discovers that the progress that she made in the first book has complicated ramifications, leading the kingdom toward a brutal civil war. Both novels are bruising accounts of unthinkable violence and persecution, evocative of bigger, real-world conversations about suffering and survival.

Children of Virtue and Vengeance is the second book in Adeyemi’s fantasy trilogy, which was part of a reported seven-figure deal that the Harvard graduate signed in 2017. The film rights for Children of Blood and Bone were acquired by Fox 2000 before the book’s release and over the summer This is Us writer Kay Oyegun signed on to write the script. Adeyemi spoke to TIME about how the past three years have changed her life, her dream cast for the movie and what she hopes her young readers come to understand about the world through her books.

TIME: In your author’s note at the end of Children of Blood and Bone, you explicitly explain how the plot connects to police brutality in America. What do you hope your readers learn about racism and power from your writing?

The whole thing started out as me wanting to explore the emotional PTSD of feeling like maybe I’m not Trayvon Martin, maybe I’m not Sandra Bland, but there’s nothing that separates me from being Sandra Bland. I felt like that wasn’t being talked about, even within black communities. So, I had to write about it as self-therapy. Because I was having anxiety attacks every time I was getting into my car and that’s every day. It was sort of making people realize that this stuff—constantly being exposed to people like me being shot, being assaulted, being harassed, being put at gunpoint—is trauma.

So, that’s book one. I wanted people to empathize. Many of these issues come from dehumanization and a lot of dehumanization is a direct result of no-to-poor representation. If your only exposure to a person of color is as the villain in this or that, then psychologically that is activated when you are doing something with a person of color. I had a friend say, “What if Harry Potter had been black?” If the Boy Who Lived was black, then does Trayvon Martin get shot? Because that’s someone you empathize with. Fought for. Cried for. Someone you feel like you’ve gone into battle with. And that extends to the person you see and say, “Oh, that guy looks like Harry.” Humans are that simple.

For book two, I created my dominoes and I’ve just got to throw them and see where they land. It was more organic to the story, but what I was exploring, again, are things that real people have gone through—that they are going through today, that they will go through all the time. My books are about pain, but hopefully foster empathy.

Children of Virtue and Vengeance begins with an unexpected twist. Though Zélie has restored magic to the oppressed people of Orïsha, the monarchy and military now have magical powers, too. Why was it important to you to show people who abuse their power gaining even more?

It’s in two parts: one is a life lesson and one is a lesson about society. The life lesson is we always have goals—which are important because they add a purpose to our lives—but when you achieve a goal, it’s never quite what you expect. It’s also a commentary on the nature of power in general. The older I get, the more I learn about the world and its institutions. There are entire systems built on oppression and class. There are things you will probably never get enough wealth and power to topple. But what I believe you can do is move the needle. If you look in the book, you can get magic back—but the problem wasn’t really magic. It was the institution. Because even when you had magic, you were oppressed. Now, you have magic again and guess what? You’re still oppressed. It’s about learning that these are institutions that are very hard to completely overthrow—but that doesn’t mean you can’t make great change.

How do you find that fantasy and magic can help us understand our reality?

I wrote stories without magic as a kid, and then I read my first Harry Potter book and I never went back. If you could do anything in a book—and this is not a knock on contemporary writers, it’s just for me, personally—I don’t want to write about that awkward first kiss. Let’s go! Am I shooting lightning out of my forehead when I blink? You can do anything. I just always loved magic, fantasy and adventure. Growing up, I appreciated the psychological power of fantasy, but I didn’t go into it as this powerful tool to effect change and make people think. I’m like, “I like big lions!” Sometimes, it’s deep. Sometimes, it’s “lions are cool.”

Why do you write for young people?

I don’t change my writing style or plot. The only part of my work that I change because I am labeled as a young adult author is making sure that everything in my book is a clear example of something good or something bad. Let me eliminate the gray area. Writing for younger audiences doesn’t mean it has to be all good or all clean. It does a huge disservice to pretend that childhood means that you get a pass on trauma. A lot of trauma, I think, happens in childhood and then gets carried into adulthood. Then, that trauma creates trauma. So, you’ve got to both address it and heal it—early.

But I have to be really clear about what’s good and what’s bad. For a scene where things get romantic, I take alcohol out of the equation because I’m not trying to give an example of a gray zone of consent. This is supposed to be a positive example of two consenting people making a choice. Those are the kinds of decisions that I’ll change because it’s YA, but my readers are 8 to 80. So much YA crosses over; they are really exciting stories on the surface, and then underneath the best ones have such incredible things to say about the world. YA readers are also the most passionate readers. Look, I’ve talked about Harry Potter 18 times today. If you love something when you are young, that’s a part of you forever. Those stories are always in that warm, fuzzy part of your heart that the world tries to freeze over. To get to be that for so many young readers, to get to see their passion and enthusiasm and creativity, it’s the best.

Do you know how the trilogy will end?

I knew the ending before I even hit book one. I’ve been excited to write book three.

Are you in the process of writing it?

Hell no. It’s been three years, back to back. Even before I got my book deal, I wrote the first draft of Children of Blood and Bone in a month, then I wrote the second draft in a month and I did it that fast because I wanted to get into a writing competition. I kept thinking there was going to be a break in the process, but it only accelerated from that impossible speed to publication and book two went even further. So, I’m healing right now. I’m learning to sleep. I’m learning to wake up.

How have the last three years changed you?

I was a baby adult when I got into this. Now, I feel like a 60-year-old woman. I’m less self-conscious. I’m like, this what I need and I’m not asking your permission, I’m just letting you know. It’s a different energy. It’s a different swagger. But I like this version of myself. She wasn’t always there—she was forged through incredible pain and suffering, but she’s here. And she’s ready to go.

In 2017, it was announced that Children of Blood and Bone will be adapted for film. What has that process been like for you?

It’s been really cool because it’s with Disney/Fox and Lucas Films. It’s been three years and even though the team has shifted and grown, just to have so many people at the top of their game so passionate and excited and enthusiastic about bringing my world [to the screen], it’s ridiculous. I made that world up in my head, in my room, super sweaty, my hair looked like crazy, I was in my pajamas. I’m like, this is going to be that? It’s really wild.

Do you have a dream cast in mind?

I used to have a dream cast and then Black Panther came out. I was so in love with Letitia Wright and Winston Duke. How cool is it going to be to put more incredible black actors and actresses on the scene? To make roles this epic, this powerful—like Jennifer Lawrence, obviously she had Winter’s Bone, but we got her from The Hunger Games. It’s very cool that I mic-dropped this as my calling card and now this is going to be so many other people’s calling cards. The only person—and I’m comfortable doing this because he was on my Pinterest Board from the jump and I’ve mentioned this enough that at this point if it doesn’t happen, you do what you can—for King Saran in Book One, I had pictures of Idris Elba. And every time I was writing a scene with him, I pictured Idris Elba to really get my head into how scary it was to be near him.

[minyoongleschimjoongles]

Preordained 10

Pairing(s):Poly!BTSxOC, Sub!BTSxOC,

Warnings: Implied sexual situations, Mentions of sexual situations, implications of Dom/sub relationships

Notes: I’ve been having so much trouble with Tumblr lately so I might end up posting on Ao3 from now on...

Masterlist

Jimin was the first to drop out.

The pressure of all his classes combined with the Idol training proved to be too much for him, and he found himself struggling to maintain a healthy mental outlook. Many of Zara’s nights were taken up with pulling Jimin out of his anxiety. When she gently brought up that maybe he should consider giving up either school or being an idol, he cried.

When he decided that he wanted to be an Idol full time, he cried.

When he came back from the enrollment office with his paperwork to drop, he cried.

And when he turned the papers in, called his parents and told them what he’d done, he cried.

The only thing that calmed him was Zara’s fingers running through his hair. 

Next was Yoongi. First he quit his job at the club, the hours and hours of practice and Idol classes making him even more tired than he usually was. Zara had lost count of how often he came home and just completely crashed on the couch.

Then he quit his job at the coffee shop, throwing himself into perfecting his rapping instead. He put in extra time with Hoseok and Jimin in an attempt to better his dancing.

And finally, he dropped his classes without even consulting anyone, secluding himself so that he could write song lyrics in peace. His mother was livid when she found out, but he ignored the anger, confiding in Zara one late night, “I just want to provide a good life for her, and this will be the way to do it. She just doesn't see it yet.”

After Yoongi, it was Jungkook, and he did so without any warning. Jungkook was good at everything he did, and that included balancing school and his duties as a trainee, so it really threw everyone for a loop when he came home way too early one day like it was nothing. He told them that while he didn’t have a problem maintaining the double life, he didn’t want it to get to the point where he couldn’t handle it anymore.

“It’s better for me to quit while I’m ahead, Noona,” he said, braiding a strand of her hair absently as she drew a picture of a sleeping Yoongi. “This way I can completely focus on becoming an Idol, and later, when I think I’m ready, I can go back.”

Then it was Hoseok, who had decided that learning the choreography and the songs had to take precedence over his studies. He had made the decision on his own, but the weight of it had forced him into Zara’s bed late one night for emergency cuddles. It had been a hard decision for him, knowing how badly dropping out would disappoint his parents, but he’d done what he’d thought was best at the moment.

Taehyung probably didn’t need to drop out but he did, claiming between Idol training and classes, he didn’t have any time for Zara. “I’m neglecting you,” he said, “and I don’t want to be the man that neglects his Soulmate.” It took Zara only two days to figure out he actually had been stressing over his workload, but he’d hidden it well so she wouldn’t notice. But when he no longer had to worry about school, Zara noticed a lot of tension had left his shoulders, and his smile started coming easily again.

The only ones to finish out the year were Zara, Jin and Namjoon. Zara, because she was stubborn, and Jin and Namjoon because it was their last semester, and therefore foolish for them to drop out when they were already almost done.

It wasn’t until a week after Namjoon and Jin’s graduation ceremony that Zara stood in the small kitchen, hands clutching a piece of paper tightly. The boys were all eating breakfast and preparing themselves for their day of training.

Namjoon was the first to notice.

“Not you, too.” He took the fact that everyone had dropped out almost personally. He felt he was failing as a leader because he couldn’t help them maintain balanced schedules.

Zara’s eyes widened slightly, and she shook her head. “No, I’m not dropping out. Not really.”

“Zara, that doesn’t sound like a straightforward answer.”

Zara handed him the paper and watched his face change with his emotions. He held a paper that stated Zara’s dual-citizenship of the United States and South Korea.

“Holy shit!” He stood up and dragged her into a hug. “Congratulations!”

“What?” Taehyung asked, trying to look at the paper still in Namjoon’s hands. Namjoon responded by turning Zara to face the group.

“Boys,” he said, “You’re looking at a new citizen of South Korea.”

A cheer went up as the boys jumped from their seats, showering Zara with affection. When they had settled she held her hands out.

“And about the college thing, I know you guys are debuting soon, and I know that means you’ll start touring. We all know I’ll end up coming with you or we’ll all get a case of Separation Syndrome again,” she paused for the collective hiss as the boys remembered the way they’d reacted to the winter vacation debacle.

“So...?” Hoseok leaned forward, smiling at her.

“So,” Zara smiled back at him, “I decided that I’m going to sign up for online classes next semester.”

“Well,” Namjoon sighed, “At least you’re not dropping out.”

xXx

Taehyung sat in his seat, twisting his hands in his lap. Zara stood behind him, running her fingers through his hair. On the counter sat several foul smelling concoctions in bowls. Strands of hair littered the kitchen floor around him, the others having already gotten the hair makeovers that BigHit had requested they get before their debut. 

The boys had kicked up a fuss when they’d found out about the makeovers until BangPD had told them Zara would do it, her first job as their hair and makeup stylist. Which is why Zara had the reference photos taped to the wall so she wouldn’t screw up.

“Ready, Baby Boy?”

“No,” Tae admitted.

Aside from perhaps Namjoon, whose hair had been shaved on the sides and then quaffed into a perfect Mohawk, Taehyung was about to have the most drastic change to his hair. Already the sides had been dyed black. Zara had the clippers ready, a pair of scissors dangerously tucked into the front pocket of her jeans.

“Okay,” she said, “tell me what I can do to help?”

“Just— can you keep—“

Zara knew exactly what he needed without him being able to say it. She brought her fingers to the hair at the side of his head, and Tae closed his eyes and tried to memorize that feeling. He wanted to remember what it felt like to have her play with his long hair because he wouldn’t be able to feel it for a while.

“Okay,” he said and Zara tugged gently at his hair before taking the scissors to it.

Like she had with the others, Zara lamented the loss of Taehyung’s hair, but did her job diligently nonetheless. When she was done, she carefully took bleach to the top part of his hair to dye it blonde, leaving the newly shaved sides black. Standing in front of the mirror when his hair had been washed out, Tae frowned, playing with the damp blonde strands.

“Noona...” his voice was very near to a whine. “You did a good job but...” He paused as Zara stood on tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, “Are people really going to care what we look like?”

“Unfortunately, that is all some people are going to see, but there will be others that will see you, Baby Boy. And you are someone worth loving.”

He tipped his head back and sighed deeply.

“Well...Why does Kookie not get a makeover?!”

Zara laughed loudly, prompting Tae to smile.

At least he knew that Zara loved him for him.

xXx

The waiting room was filled with chatter, although none of the boys were really contributing. There was a cameraman floating around filming them, but over the months since Jin’s YouTube channel was made private, they’d all forgotten how to act around cameras.

Zara had Jin sitting in a chair in front of a mirror, her knee on the edge of the chair as she leaned over him to painstakingly tightline his eyes in black. Outwardly, Jin didn’t appear as nervous as the younger ones did; he wasn’t hiding in a corner “practicing” like Namjoon (now nicknamed Rap Monster by BangPD), and he wasn’t pointlessly wandering the waiting room like Jungkook. He wasn’t nervously chattering to the camera like Jimin. He just sat in the chair and let Zara work.

But Zara had already picked up on the truth; he was probably most nervous of them all. He told himself he couldn’t dance as well as Hoseok and he couldn’t sing as well as Jungkook and he was starting to really freak himself out. His hand, which rested on Zara’s jean-clad knee to steady her as she leaned over him, was opening and closing in a fist in time with his pounding heart.

“This brings back memories, huh?” Zara mused, trying to lighten the tension. Jin sighed contentedly.

“Do you think if I fail at this Idol thing I’ll be able to get a decent job or do you think I’ll never be able to show my face anywhere?”

Zara paused.

Not if we fail, but if I fail. 

“Zara-ssi?”

She looked down at Jin and tilted his chin up to get at his upper waterline.

“You won’t fail at this Idol thing, oppa.”

“How do you know?”

“A Soulmate knows these things.” She gently rubbed the frown lines out of his cheeks. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“What if I mess up?”

“If you mess up, it just means you’re human, Seokjinnie, and nobody will love you any less.”

Jin didn’t reply, as Zara finished lining his eyes. Behind them, they could hear Jungkook, Hoseok and Jimin teasing Namjoon about his warm up. Zara heaved a sigh and made to go scold them, but Jin’s hand came around her wrist, tugging her back.

“Thank you, Zara-ssi.”

Zara’s lips curved into a smile, and she did a quick glance of the room to make sure the cameras weren’t pointing at them. Then she leaned over him again, pressing a long kiss to his plump lips. She pulled away when his shoulders relaxed, his breath leaving him in a soft moan.

“You’re amazing, Seokjin. Just as amazing as the rest, please don’t ever forget that.”

Jin smiled at her, his cheeks tinting pink.

“Okay,” he agreed, “Now go, before Jungkook bullies Namjoon any more.”

Zara gave him another kiss before practically skipping away.

The pre-recording of the Boys’ debut, from Zara’s point of view, went off without a hitch. Jimin made a point of lifting his shirt to show off his abs to the camera (but especially Zara), Jungkook lifted Jimin without any issues, and Jin did an amazing job with both his singing and his dancing.

Jin, of course, didn’t think so. Zara only had to spend 5 minutes drying his tears and touching up his makeup. BangPD, lingering around in the background and simply observing, had to admit that Zara Underhill was excellent at talking these Boys off the ledge.

He watched as she gathered the Boys in a circle around her. She put her hand in the center of them and they all followed suit, placing hands on top of hers.

“You’ve only got We Are Bulletproof Pt. 2 left, and then the pre-recording is over. Seokjin oppa is feeling down right now, so I want you all to lend him your strength, and I’ll lend you my strength too. You’re a unit, my loves, and tomorrow you show the world how strong of a unit you really are. You just have to get through today, first. So, on the count of three, we say BangtanBangtan, okay? 1...2...3!”

“BangtanBangtan!”

They broke the circle, and when they went back onto the recording stage, their performance was beyond amazing, possibly the best they had ever performed. They made no mistakes, and BangPD realized, when Namjoon came off the stage and gathered Zara into a huge hug, how important the American girl really was to the Boys, and how important she would become to his company.

xXx

The next day, on the official debut, Zara once again painstakingly lined each boys with black liner and covered any blemishes on their face. Everyone that sat in her chair was nervous this time. They had already gone through a dry run of the performance, and nobody seemed pleased. Jimin had messed up on a small portion of the dance and he was spending the time until the debut practicing the part. Yoongi too, ran through the dance step by step, as well as Tae, who had done it in its entirety three times already. 

Jungkook showed his nerves through bugging the older members, spraying Namjoon’s throat spray and playing with Zara’s makeup kit as she worked on Hoseok. When he finally got into the seat himself, he immediately started dozing off as Zara played with his hair.

The camera caught a glimpse of her lightly tapping under his chin, which had him waking up with a smile and an adorable laugh.

“Noonaaaaa!”

Zara smiled, squeezing his shoulder lightly.

It wasn’t long before the director was calling them to perform, and Zara quickly made her way into the audience. She’d been informed already that the next time she’d be seeing her boys would be late that night. 

Ji-yoo was in the audience, practically bouncing in her seat. When Zara slid into the seat next to her, her best friend grabbed her arm with both hands.

“I can’t believe this! Kim Taehyung, an Idol. Where did I go wrong?”

Zara snorted, gripping Ji-yoo’s hand tightly.

“They’re so amazing, Ji-yoo, wait until you see them.”

Ji-yoo kept a tight grip on Zara throughout the entire performance, and whenever abs were revealed, screaming would fill the audience, Ji-yoo the loudest of them all. Zara’s face began to hurt from how long and how wide she was grinning. Her beautiful boys were dominating the stage and already stealing hearts.

Ji-yoo was shaking Zara with force by the time the boys were bowing and thanking the audience. Their eyes found Zara one by one, and they bowed again.

“Thank you all for being here,” Namjoon said, though his eyes were on Zara alone, “we will try our hardest. For you.”

Zara nodded to him, her heart soaring for her Boys.

It was particularly gratifying, after all the anxiety and nerves and sacrifices, seeing this dream come to fruition.

It was Ji-yoo, grabbing Zara by the shoulders and shaking her, that pulled her from her thoughts.

“Jungkookie has abs!”

The Boys could hear Zara’s replying laughter from backstage.

@snowythellama @babyboytae1 @stskpop @bewitch3dforivar @peachy---bangtan

[marshmallow-phd]

Charming Instruction

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Summary: You were just an average, everyday college student desperately trying to graduate. Only one more year stood between you and that celebratory walk. However, due to an oversight by your adviser, it seemed that the one class you never wanted to take was required to take that walk. It wasn’t the subject matter that made you uncomfortable. It was the teacher. Your heart sped up every time you saw him and you didn’t want that distraction in your life, attractive or not. With meeting him now an inevitability, you swore that you would keep your hormones in check. But after your first day of class, a series of hi jinks and weird situations lead you to discovering the secret of your professor and why he seemed to bombard your every thought.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I Final

**

You tried to focus on your breathing as Junmyeon led you back down that hallway to the room storing the werewolf artifacts. How fitting.

Once the door was closed, Junmyeon turned to you and opened his mouth. “(y/n), I am so-”

“No.” You put up a hand to stop him. This was your speech to give. Afterwards, you’d let him have his say, but you had to go first. “Let me go first. Please. I know that you have something that you’ve wanted to tell me for a while. But, please, I need to get this out.”

Junmyeon nodded, keeping his lips tight shut together.

Taking a deep breath, you just poured out the words, not really stopping to think in fear that you might clam up when you needed to make sure it all came out. “Okay. I realize that we both have been idiots in this situation. I jump to conclusions because I believe my eyes way too quickly and you suck at properly explaining things. The blame for the fights and the avoidance and the misunderstandings comes down on both of us. Agreed?”

Junmyeon nodded wordlessly.

“But,” you swallowed thickly, “despite all that, I can’t say that I would go back and stop myself from going into the woods that night.” A spark lit up Junmyeon’s eyes when you told him that and it was exactly the encouragement you needed to go on. “I know this might not be fair for me to ask again, but,” you licked your lips, “you don’t… have feelings for Soomi like that, right?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I used to have a fleeting crush, but that’s it. And those feelings are long gone.”

“So, she wasn’t you mate?” Oops. You didn’t mean to ask that one out loud; you were just too relieved at his answer. The happiness in your voice at his answer was just too apparent to hide.

With a chuckle, Junmyeon shook his head, “No. She’s not my mate.”

“Okay. Um.” You were shifting your weight from foot to foot, building up the courage you needed to go on. “So, I don’t know entirely how the whole ‘mate’ thing, works, but-”

Oh, god. Here it comes. Were you about to make a complete and utter fool of yourself? Most likely. But this is what you prepared for, right? The possible rejection? The absolute need to know the answer no matter what it could be?

Keeping your gaze fixed on your intertwined fingers, you whispered, “Can I be your mate?”

When you risked peeking up at Junmyeon, you expected him to be shocked or sorrowful right before he turned you down. What you received instead was well beyond any hopeful expectation you could have guessed.

Grasping your face in his hands, Junmyeon pulled you towards him until his lips collided with yours. He moved softly against you, but there was also a sense of eagerness behind it that grew as the kiss went on. By instinct, your own hands came up and wrapped their fingers around Junmyeon’s wrists, binding him there because you never wanted him to move.

Those lips that you never thought you would actually be able to taste were now locked in with yours.

Too soon, Junmyeon slowly pulled away. You stayed trapped between his palms, lips swelling and tingling, itching for more. Electricity was surging through your body and all you wanted to do was just grab his sweater and bring him back for another kiss.

Instead, you restrained yourself and asked, “Does that mean yes?”

Bowing his head, Junmyeon laughed before looking up at you again. “That’s what I was trying to tell you on the porch, (y/n). You are my mate.”

Your jaw dropped. “W-what?”

“It’s not a pick and choose process,” he explained as he caressed your cheek. “From the very beginning, you’ve been my mate. From the moment I saw you sitting there in my classroom.”

Rather than squealing or jumping for joy, you shoved Junmyeon. It wasn’t too forceful. You didn’t actually want him to go away, but you were certainly a little irritated.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that from the beginning?” you whined. “All of this could have been avoided. Did you think I would run away?”

With soft fingers, Junmyeon brushed his knuckles against your cheek. His smile had dimmed a bit as he mulled over the words stuck on his tongue.

“I didn’t think you would run away,” he countered quietly. “But-” he sighed. “But I did worry that you would still choose to leave. I was scared of you accepting me and then leaving, never knowing when you’d come back. I didn’t want to hold you back or make you feel like you had to stay.”

“Don’t you think that should be my choice?” You crossed your arms, waiting for his answer.

“I-” He sighed, nodding, “Of course, it should be. I was just… scared.”

You raised an eyebrow questioningly. “The big bad wolf? Scared?”

Junmyeon scoffed. “I’m hardly the big bad wolf. I just didn’t want you to feel obligated to stay.”

Biting back a laugh, you kissed his cheek. “That’s sweet, but I can make my own decisions.”

The smile on his face grew once more as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “I’m sorry.”

“Just clue me in next time,” you chastised. As he leaned in to kiss you once more, your brain pulled you in a completely different direction, remember his earlier statement as to why he was here. The curiosity was eating at you, desperate for answers. You jumped out of his arms, turning towards to the artifacts instead. Ignoring the slight whimper coming from behind you, you asked, “What exactly was it that you were researching on?”

Sighing heavily as he realized where your attention now lied, he stepped up next to you. He pressed an index finger up against the glass panel that separated the worn leather book and you. “Soomi’s… apprentice? I’m not sure exactly what to call her….”

Junmyeon glanced at you from the corner of his eye, perhaps looking for any sort of reaction to Soomi’s name being mentioned. You waited patiently for him to continue. What use was the feeling of jealousy when you were his mate? Junmyeon’s eyes were on you and only you. Not even the mention of an old crush was going to bring you down from that fluffy cloud nine.

“Anyway,” he went on with a grin, “I guess she’s one of the few witches who can see the future, although it’s random and not as helpful as one would think. She senses that something is coming for the pack, but she can’t see exactly what it is. I was hoping there might be a hint of what possible threat could be coming.”

A threat?

“Did you find anything?” you asked desperately. The fact that something could come and harm your new family before you even got a chance to really get to know them frightened you and made your blood run cold.

Junmyeon shook his head. “No, I didn’t. The worst thing we’ve ever come across was a pack of hybrids and we were able take care of them without too much incident.”

“Well, that’s good. Wait,” you frowned, “what are hybrids?”

Running a hand through his hair, Junmyeon scrunched his face. You could see the wheels churning in his head as he tried to figure out how to define this new creature that had entered your ever changing world.

“They’re wolves who have been changed into vampires,” he explained. “The combination is unstable, but the ones who make it through the transition are extremely powerful.”

“How did you guys handle that?” you gasped.

Junmyeon smirked. “Teamwork makes the dream work.”

“Um.” You clicked your tongue, unsure of how exactly to respond to that. “Okay.”

It was simple enough to interpret that he meant the pack worked together to take them down, but did he have to phrase it that way?

With a laugh that rose deeply from his chest, Junmyeon clapped his hands a few times. You couldn’t quite understand what he was finding so funny. Was he laughing at his own dorky sentence?

Still chuckling at your confused expression, Junmyeon cupped your jaw and kissed your cheek. “I’m sorry,” he sighed happily, “but when I say things like that, the guys tell me to shut up or roll their eyes. The fact that you just went with it is refreshing.”

“You poor thing,” you giggled. Pushing through the palms still holding your face, you kissed Junmyeon enthusiastically. The fact that you were now able to do that almost any time you wanted made you feel all bubbly inside.

Removing his hands and sliding them down to grasp your fingers, he kissed your nose. “At least I have someone on my side now.”

You cringed. “Eh, it would depend on the situation whether or not I’m on your side.”

That just made Junmyeon shift his gaze up to the ceiling, exhaling deeply.

“Come on,” you laughed as you stepped away. “If you couldn’t find anything here about what the threat might be, we should try the university library.”

“The library?” Junmyeon questioned. “Why there? It’s not like there’s a secret stash of ancient scrolls saying ‘beware of these monsters’ just waiting there to be read.”

You bit back the more sarcastic comment you wanted to let out, instead saying, “No. But there’s still a lot on folklore creatures. If you’re real - and vampires and witches - aren’t the odds in the favor of others being real, too?”

Junmyeon huffed, knowing exactly how right you were.

“Also,” you added, “I have class that I can’t be late to. Let’s go.” Before you could make it two steps towards the door, Junmyeon pulled you back. You stared up at him, confused. “What?”

“You know,” he swallowed, eyes trained down on your hands, “we can’t be… together like this, at the school. We have to be careful, at least until you graduate.”

Oh…. right. Before, you’d been focused on that aspect. It’d been the perfect excuse to distance yourself from Junmyeon, reasonable and understandable. But now that you discovered that your feelings had validity and you were his mate, that little detail had gone out the window. It didn’t seem important to you anymore until Junmyeon point it back out again.  

“Yeah,” you sighed. “That’s true. I guess, I should just go by myself. You did cancel class, so most of the students probably think you’re hungover.” Pursing your lips, you asked, “Is the research the reason you canceled class?”

Junmyeon scrunched his face. “No… it was because of you.”

“Because of me?” you repeated.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Going to class and seeing you try to hide all the way in the back was torture. I knew I needed to speak with you, plead with you to let me explain, but I couldn’t do that in the lecture hall. So, I gave myself a break before trying to catch you in a more appropriate location. Finding you in the museum was pure luck on my side for once.”

“Or fate,” you shrugged.

He smiled broadly. “Yes. Fate.” Kissing your forehead, he released your hand from his grip. “How about I take you to dinner tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What happened to keeping it lowkey?”

“I know a place where we won’t be caught.” He added a wink to the end, like a visible period.

“Okay,” you scoffed playfully, “I’m going to leave before you get any cheesier.”

That made Junmyeon pout. “I finally get to tell you that you’re my mate and you just brush me off.”

You didn’t actually feel bad, but you pulled him into a hug anyway. “If it weren’t midterms time, I’d skip class to spend all day with you.” Leaning back, you looked up at him, “But it’s my senior year and I really can’t afford to do that.”

Unable to resist, you kissed him one more time before heading for the door.

“I’ll see you tonight! At the park!” You waved to him. “Don’t be late!”

You ran out of the museum, simply to keep yourself from giving in to the urge to skip class and spend the rest of the day with Junmyeon even as his laughed followed you out. It was too tempting, but you took deep breaths, making it to the bus stop in time to catch your ride back to the university.

Bringing your fingers up to your lips, you reminisced about that first kiss, the one that took you by surprise after such a simple question. You didn’t think that the answer would be yes, let alone that you had been Junmyeon’s mate all along. You felt a little dimwitted. The signs were there. How else could you so quickly become one of the most important people in his life? Just because you knew his secret?

“Stupid,” you whispered to yourself. But you were grinning from ear to ear.

**

You’d had a date with Junmyeon every night this week and you were absolute heaven. It’d been a bit of an adventure, sneaking around, making sure you didn’t get caught. But you didn’t want to do for the rest of your life.

None of the time spent with Junmyeon was extravagant. You either went on short walks through the park, did take out in your living room when you knew Cam and Gemma would be gone, or twice you went to a little mom and pop restaurant that was hidden on the edge of the business district and easily missed. In all honesty, it was hard to keep yourself from stealing kisses or burying yourself in his side while out in public, but you pushed through it, keeping your hands to yourself. Until the two of you were only, that it.  

At first, you wanted the end of your last year of college to come so you could get the hell out of here. You still wanted to experience dig sites. You still wanted to go out and explore the world, but you were less eager to run. Now you wanted the end to come just so you could be somewhat normal with Junmyeon while still keeping those possibilities in your line of sight.

You were bouncing in your seat as you drove down the dirt road, getting closer and closer to the farmhouse on this beautiful Saturday morning. There would be no need to be careful, no need to look over your shoulder, and no need to worry about being caught. Junmyeon had asked you to come over and there was no way you could say no.

A few other cars were littered in the front yard when you pulled up. Apparently, it would be a full house today. It was understandable, considering school was calming down before fall break hit. It didn’t matter to you as everyone in the pack already knew about you and didn’t care that you were a student in Junmyeon’s class.

Hopping out of the car, you barely made it to the top of the porch steps before Junmyeon came outside. He didn’t waste any time picking you up into a bear hug, your feet coming up off the ground while he was breathing in your scent through his nose that was buried in your neck.

“Hi,” you giggled.

Junmyeon put you down and kissed your deeply before greeting you. “Hi.” Releasing a long breath, he intertwined your fingers with his. “Come inside. Everyone is gathered in the living room. We’re going to talk about the vision.”

“They don’t know yet?” you gasped.

“Not yet,” he admitted. “I took your advice and went over all the books I could find in the folklore and fables section of the library, as well as my own research. Nothing really stuck out to me, but hopefully Soomi’s apprentice will see something again soon and give us another clue. I wanted to see if I could find more answers before worrying the rest of the pack.”

“You know, I’m still surprised you didn’t think of looking there yourself, Professor,” you teased.

Junmyeon narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m sorry. I had a slightly more pressing matter to figure out first.”

“And who’s fault is that?” you mocked, tapping his nose with your finger.

Shaking his head, he sighed at you. “Let’s just go get this meeting over with.”

At least ten boys were all shoved into the living room, several of them accompanied by their mates, explaining the many cars parked in the front yard. Jiyoung waved at you enthusiastically from Jongdae’s lap on the floor. You bobbed your head in response, a little embarrassed at your last encounter.

Junmyeon sat you down in one of the few single chairs that looked like it’d been taken from the kitchen table while he took the empty seat beside you. The same couple that you remembered from the first morning you came to the farmhouse were the last to come into the living room: Kris and his mate. They took the last empty space on the edge of the long couch, the girl sitting on the tall wolf’s lap as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Slapping his knees with his palms and pushing himself up to his feet, Junmyeon instantly commanded the attention of the room without uttering a single word. It awed you, the kind of energy the alpha could give off. “So, I’m sure you’re all curious as to why I called a meeting.”

One of the younger wolves with sandy blonde rolled his eyes. “If this is you trying the chore chart again, Junmyeon, I’m leaving.”

He exchanged a slight chuckle along with another white blonde wolf. They looked like a couple of trouble makers. You put together that they must have been the Sehun and Tao that Junmyeon told you about. But which was which?

“No,” Junmyeon frowned deeply. “This is serious. Apparently, a witch that is training under Soomi had a vision and-” He sighed, ruffling his hair with his fingers nervously. “Something’s coming.”

A hushed silence fell over the room. Several looks were thrown across the room from one wolf to the other while each evaluated the news.

“Well, that’s… vague,” Jongdae snorted.

Junmyeon nodded solemnly. “I know, Jongdae. But she didn’t see much. Just that something was coming.”

“I’m assuming that it imposes a danger to us,” the tall wolf said, actually taking the situation seriously.

“That’s the notion Soomi’s apprentice got.”

“But how does she know that it’s dangerous?” the silver haired one asked. That must have been Chanyeol, based on Junmyeon’s description from dinner the other night. “She didn’t even see what is was, right? Besides, what could be worse than the alpha pack?”

“It’s still good to be prepared,” Junmyeon insisted. It was obvious he was getting frustrated from the lack of concern from the pack and you wanted to reach out and squeeze his hand reassuringly. But Junmyeon was the leader. He’d handled things like this without your help, he could do this as well.

Kris asked, “Did she see anything else that could hint at how we prepare for whatever it is?”

With a shake of his head, Junmyeon replied, “No, unfortunately. Soomi said she would let me know if Nia sees anything else, but until then we just have to be extra careful. I need everyone to keep an eye open for anything suspicious and stay alert. Let me or Kris know immediately if anything catches your attention. We’ll investigate it from there.”

There must have been some sort of ending signal that you didn’t catch as the boys all started dispersing throughout the house, some whispering to either each other or their mates but none of their voices sounded concerned.

Junmyeon held his hand out to you, motioning with head for you to come with him. You gladly took it, letting him lead you through the kitchen and out the back towards the trees where the two of you could finally be alone.

[nehawriter16]

5.11.19 - my life is falling apart and other updates.

Hello internet.

Just wanted to talk today. I like Tumblr because not many people I know follow me on here. Also there isn’t a word limit, and sometimes a girl just wants to rant.

So this is me releasing all my thoughts into the world today.

1. ACADEMICS

I quit chartered accountancy. Just woke up one day, and told my parents I couldn’t do it anymore. That was a long week at home, and I know they’re disappointed in me. All along I’ve been a bright student, somebody who never disappointed and they could brag about at dinner parties. But this course cut me open. It hurt me, it sent me crumbling and it dragged me through hell. In the movie Dear Zindagi, Alia Bhatt is in therapy and Shahrukh Khan tells her that sometimes we keep doing the hard thing because we think we have to. And we forget that its okay to pick an easy way. I guess that’s what I’m doing. I’m choosing the easier way because the harder way made me unhappy, it made me unhappy to the point where I didn’t want to be alive anymore.

So the new plan is that I will give my GRE and apply to Masters in Finance courses in the US. Preferably in the STEM field, because its easy to get a work visa after graduating if you’re a STEM graduate. Do I think this is the perfect career path for me? No, absolutely not. But do I think it will do me good to finally move the fuck out of home, have a change of continent, meet some new people, and have the college experience I always felt I missed out on? Yes.

So this is what we’re doing. My GRE is in 12 days. I am barely prepared.

2. DRIVE/PASSION

I always had a passion for writing. I knew when I discovered it that it not only brought me joy, but I was pretty damn good at it. Unfortunately being brown, and coming from a family of people who had all built their career from scratch by making practical decisions, because they didn’t have a choice due to their humble backgrounds, I was always told that writing was a futile thing and would just be a hobby, not something to be looked at as a career option. I disagreed. Having made a bit of money from it now, I still disagree.

But I’ve been brought up in the lap of luxury and I have a pretty high standard of living. I like my weekly Starbucks and I go to bars that don’t have happy hours. I enjoy the bimonthly staycation in a fancy hotel, and I hate repeating outfits and thoroughly enjoy fashion, so I’m always buying new clothes. It makes me happy to look good.

So yeah, I agree that since I haven’t had the liberty to pursue writing full time, I haven’t yet found a way to make a living from it. Maybe it’s a risk, and a back up plan is advisable. But all I know is writing is the only thing I feel like waking up to do. Even now, when my life is falling apart, it’s the only thing that makes sense to me.

Growing up I was always a hardworking student. And if I wasn’t, my Mom made me that way. She would yell if I got bad marks, and she always encouraged that I at least be in the top ten in class. Even the school I went to was pretty much only concerned with academics. And so due to the environment and brainwashing, I did well. I stayed in the 90 percent lane all my life, all the way up to twelfth grade. In my junior college I had two of the worst years of my life. I was molested by my co caption for months on end, and I couldn’t escape him. It was constant mental, emotional and physical turmoil, more so because I couldn’t tell anyone. Despite how insanely difficult it was to spend six hours every day in the place where my molester showed up every day, I still managed to keep my grades high. I scored 92 percent, and my parents were happy.

I had no passion for finance, but since I had proved to be so bright, my parents said the only thing to do now was four years of Chartered Accountancy. After that, my life would be sorted. I passed the first level by studying for 2 months, while other people attended classes for a year. I passed the second level too. I got into one of the biggest global multiconsulting firms in the world for my internship, and my parents were happy. My life was on track, and it didn’t matter that I was crying in the cabs home from work because I was so miserable. It didn’t matter as long as the plan was being followed. After all, the plan was being followed and I was so goddamn close to the finish line.

Two years into my internship I decided I needed to quit, or at least shift to a smaller firm. The pressures in this one were too much and I was so sad I could barely make it out of bed. So I told my parents I needed to study for my finals, and they got me out of it. My mental health was derailing – but oh boy, was this just the beginning. I moved to a smaller firm and pretended to stay home on the weekends and study. Instead, all I did was lay in bed with YouTube videos playing on loop because I couldn’t bear to be alone with my thoughts.

2017 was the year my boyfriend broke up with me too, so all kinds of shit was hitting the fan at the same time. I was fucked up in every way. I started using alcohol to fall asleep, to wake up, to do pretty much anything actually. To engage in social situations, I’d carry around a quarter in my bag and drink it in the cab. It eased my anxiety and helped me smile at people in a more convincing way.

2018 sucked. So did 2019. These two years are a blurry flatline in my head. I have been drowning like the ground I walk on is quicksand, and the more I struggle to get out, the more it pulls me in. When I look back at my life’s work in the past two years, I see nothing. Nothing that counts as an achievement anyway.

I wasted them while everybody else was putting in the work to get into ivy league schools or pass exams, get their first real jobs kickstarted. I lay in bed and watched every tv show there was to watch with the curtains drawn. I ran through horrible men and gave my body up to practical strangers that I felt nothing for, and the ones I liked left me, like they always do. Yeah, I wrote two books. Made enough money to support my alcohol addiction, my shopping habits, my vacations and staycations. I blew it all off on the temporary ride of whatever would bring me happiness in the moment.

I lost myself. I lost myself to illness and addiction and worthless friends and denial. I’m still lost. I used to have a drive in my body, something that said wake up and get things done today. Instead, I’ve been doing the zombie shuffle through my own life. Sometimes I wake up and my first thought is – “How long till this day is over.” I count the hours until I can crawl back into bed, till its an acceptable time to go to sleep. Because the only place I don’t feel like my brain has a fucking dense fog rolling through it is when I’m sleeping.

I used to be brilliant, and I’ve lost my shine. I’ve lost my willpower, my ability to be the hardest working person in the room. I have gotten self destructive to the point where I procrastinate and procrastinate and then it’s too late for everything. I am so fucked up, you have no idea.

I don’t know what I should do to bring that feeling of wanting to do something perfectly back. You know, the feeling of studying so hard you know everything on the test. The feeling of being the best, no questions asked. The feeling of answering questions in class and submitting assignments on time and just…enjoying the process of academia that I used to love so much. But I guess in depression, your brain sort of grows old and tired. It can’t remember things. It doesn’t want to move, or think, or do anything difficult.

My memory is deteriorating and the moments I’m supposed to remember and the information I should retain? It gets lost more often than not. And I am so scared to assess the scale of this incompetency that I just don’t even try because whenever I do, it’s all so overwhelming and all the trauma from Chartered Accountancy comes swirling back to hit me in the head.

3. BODY IMAGE

As a result of my constant sadness, I had to find ways to make myself happy. The periods of happiness lasted for a short while, but I rode the highs to the fullest because I knew the darkness would be back eventually. I turned to alcohol and marijuana and nicotine, to the point where every three or four days I would need one or the other, if not all three in combination. I would drink every night to be able to fall asleep. In my cupboard there is a special collection of all the wine bottles that have acted as sleeping pills.

I also began to eat junk food, because carbohydrates make you happy before they make you feel like shit. All addictions are like that, actually. Swiggy was my best friend, and my array of lovers : greasy Chinese, McDonalds, any dessert place – just whatever was bad for your skin, fattening, but would be brought to you by a wonderful man on a bike no matter what the weather was, and was easy to eat and throw all evidence of out later and forget that somewhere on my body, this food would settle into another ugly layer.

In the middle I got sick of myself and went to the gym, started going at it hard. My body improved and the endorphins were definitely helping, but a few months in I stopped waking up. My brain said it didn’t want to anymore, and I, the slave to my depression, caved and listened. I haven’t been since. The swiggy orders keep coming in every day and I keep throwing the containers into the trash, changing quickly from one outfit into another so I don’t have to see what I look like naked.

But I know. I somehow hate myself for the disgust I have for certain parts of my body, and then for the part of me that knows it wants to “fix” them all, but is in constant battle with the part of me that says I shouldn’t feel guilty for taking up space or for being a curvy girl. But body positivity isn’t about a number on a scale, its just about whether you like your reflection in the mirror, whether it makes you happy. Mine hasn’t made me happy in a long time. But then again, what the fuck has?

Sometimes I’m in trial rooms with harsh lighting and I just stare at myself and call myself horrible names. I keep the lights off when boys come over and the clothes come off. I keep saying, “I have to lose 10 kgs,” but I keep ordering from Swiggy every time a depressive episode rolls in to make it go away.

I keep setting deadlines, like, “After this month, I will cut out sugar!” and “After this exam, I will go back to the gym!” but then I fuck up and I’m like, oh well. Maybe next month.

The bottom line is I despise my body and the way it’s started to look. It doesn’t help that my Instagram feed is full of women with perfect skin, defined abs, and perky butts with chiselled features. I want all of that. I want to feel beautiful, and beautiful is hard work. Which, of course, my brain pines after, but never actually lets me get out of bed to do.

4. DATING/LOVE

My last serious relationship ended in 2017. I briefly dated somebody exclusively in the beginning of 2019, but he turned out to be the biggest asshole of them all, and “didn’t realise” he was using me to get over his ex-girlfriend. He broke up with me over text, pretty much cheated on me, didn’t even explain himself until I found out from some mutual friends. After that I was done, I couldn’t take love anymore. I couldn’t let anybody in because every relationship I’ve ever been in has ended with me being the second choice or me being dumped or betrayed and left hurt and broken for years.

The trauma is too much. So I decided I was never going to let anybody leave me again or enter my life and find a permanent place in it. I became the biggest fuckboy of them all, despite my conscience that has always been a good, kind and sensitive thing. This player thing really isn’t for me, but it was fun for a while to trump boys and play mind games and make them feel inadequate about themselves, to stand them up and never call back and ask them to leave my house after I had gotten what I wanted, to only call when I wanted it again.

I purposely picked out the worst, baddest ones. Then I tamed them by being even worse than they were. In May I began speaking to somebody who was fun and hilarious and good looking and well off and who made my brain feel alive again. Every time he texted me I caught myself smiling, and all our conversations consisted of saying witty sarcastic things to each other. We went on one date and he kissed me in the car, but for some reason in real life his life was so different from mine, that I declared the kiss good (he put his hand in my hair and grabbed, in a non hurtful but very I’m-super-into-this way, ooofff) and the date a disaster. I don’t know whether I was just in denial of my now strongly sprouting crush, or whether I actually hated it.

As the months passed, I tried to get him to go out with me again. I’m not much of a pursuer, because I have always been the one who gets pursued. But this boy was different. We would talk a lot over DM and we would make fun of each other and his life was fabulous and exciting and I watched from the outside, and built him into a much grander version of who he is in real life. I do that. What made him even more attractive was that he didn’t want me, and I couldn’t figure out for the love of God why not. I thought I was the whole package, and I even started to act out a little bit in the psycho way he told me he liked his women, which is SO TOXIC but I had actually felt something for somebody after so long that I didn’t even backtrack. Anyway, it soon became clear that it was not going to lead anywhere because he just disappointed me, didn’t show up, and my ego took a hit. I let it go, mostly. Or I will, as time passes.

I think I deserve love. Not the makes you feel good and carries your bag when its heavy kind. I deserve the love that I am ready to give – the grand romantic gestures that would be so dumb, but somehow he makes them work. The cant live without you love. The we’re best friends and teammates and nothing, not even distance, not our past demons, will keep us from making it work. I want the kind of person who is so sure of who they are, so internally confident, and so absolutely sure that I am their soulmate that I convinces me. I don’t want to meet a lot of wrong boys, goddamnit. I’ve done my fair share of the wrong boys, I’ve paid my dues for the amount of hurt one person is supposed to have. Now I just want the right one.

Deep down, I know he’s not here. Not in this city, because that would just be a cruel joke. Imagine meeting your soulmate and then having to go to college in six months. Fucking shit. If the universe even pities me a little bit, it wont do that to me.

I sometimes wonder if my life only stays on track if my romantic life is going well. I mean, when I dated my last serious boyfriend, I had it all – I was skinny. I had a prestigious internship. I was passing my exams. The writing was flourishing. This is a very scary thought, because I don’t want to depend or co exist on somebody else for my happiness in any way. But I cant deny the fact that my entire life fell apart when that last boy, who I loved with all my heart, broke up with me. It hasn’t been quite the same since.

His life is going spectacularly well, though. Lots of women and a great job and enough money to buy plane tickets to different cities to meet these women when he wouldn’t even drive down three hours to see me in a neighbouring town. I hate how unfair life is. He’s found some amazing people that he has feelings for, that like him back, even though he’s the one who broke my heart. And I still haven’t found a single person who even makes it to the second date, and the only one who did was just using me as a placeholder while his cheating ex girlfriend took a vacation from their relationship. So how the fuck is that fair? Am I being given the worst kind of experiences because my broken heart produces a special brand of my best writing? If yes, then I’m tired. I’d rather be a mediocre writer, but I cant spend my whole life being abandoned and cheated on and dumped and taken for granted, especially when the kind of love I can give is loyal and abundant and pure.

  That’s it. Those are my issues, or some of them. Honestly I’m tired of typing and want to retire to my safe space that is my bed, and the deep dark comfort of unconsciousness. I just thought I might feel better if I could release this into the world, before I feel a little better and write another post manifesting what I envision my life to be next year.

If you made it to the end, you truly love me and care for me. Thanks for sticking with me, I guess. I hope things get better. I used to say that the good thing about rock bottom is that there’s nowhere to go but up. I wish there was some kind of tracker that told you when you’d actually hit rock bottom, because all I do is keep on fucking sinking deeper and deeper.

[fluidityandgiggles]

Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 16

Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 5, Chapter 10, Last Chapter

Writing Masterlist - for previous chapters not otherwise linked, Read on AO3

Notes (I guess): I realize it took me way too long to do this, but I can explain. Uhh...

So for those of you who don’t know, I haven’t been home since September, and I won’t be home for another... two weeks, more or less? I’ve been to places where I couldn’t know if I’d have working wifi or any wifi at all so updating this fic has been a mission. So I do whatever I can to update at reasonable times.

With that being said, I finished this chapter way back last month while on a two week long trek in Nepal and haven’t had the opportunity to upload it, so I’m grateful I can now. Because this one... was a hell of an exposition ride for a lot of shit I planned a long long time ago.

Quick disclaimer - some bits of this chapter deal with the definition of transgender, and a specific learning disorder. The definition of transgender mentioned in this chapter has been taken from the DSM-IV-TR, which is a defunct edition of the DSM that came out in the year 2000 and has been replaced by the DSM-5 in 2013. The definition has since been changed and separated, and I believe it is now called gender dysphoria, though I’m not quite sure. But it does not reflect my opinions on how dysphoria is related to being trans, I do believe (and have several sources to back me up, including the DSM-5) that you don’t have to be dysphoric to be trans. The same goes for this learning disorder, what is said in this chapter reflects only the way the characters think of it - and it will change later on, I can assure you - and not at all what I would think or say about it.

As is tradition, thanks to @whatwashernameagain for KHS and for all her patience with me and my shenanigans (and not getting frustrated with my stupid ideas) and to @broadwaytheanimatedseries for the original idea and for giving me the best commentary for my screenshots when I send them. And also to @winglessnymph , @asleepybisexual and @anony-phangirl , who have fallen out of the loop but are still there. I know I haven’t sent you anything much in recent days, but... still.

Tag list (sort of): @bunny222, @ab-artist, @sweet-and-sour-shadowling, @ilovemygaydad, @your-username-is-unavailable, @virgilcrofters, @violetblossem, @maybe-i-like-the-misery, @book-of-charlie, @thatsanswitch, @thatrandomautist, @thebiggestgaypirate, @marshmallow-the-panda

(Wanna be tagged? Lemme know!)

Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). This chapter also includes (rather controversial) opinions/ideas about the definition of transgender (as mentioned in a now-defunct, but then the most recent, edition of the DSM), discussion of abortion, mentions of past self-harm, discussion of personality disorders and hospitalization, panic attacks, and description of rejection sensitive dysphoria. I’m pretty sure I forgot something though, so let me know if I have so I can add it.

—————

Friday, May 30th, 2003

"...your valedictorian, Jenna Miranda Wheeler."

"Class of 2003…"

New York was beautiful in May.

Sadly, that was not where Remy was heading today.

According to Linda, Stephen was going to go on a business trip for at least two weeks in June, starting late May. So Remy was invited over for the summer. Not his first choice, but Leah begged him to come and Emile said that it might be a good idea. But…

Spending more than a day at Linda's, combined with the knowledge that Jenna and India have graduated just a few days ago and Chris hasn't, was a good enough reason for Remy to feel shitty. And he did.

The main upside was that Georgia was beautiful in May too.

He managed to cheer himself up somewhat by thinking of the good things that happened this month - Emile's TOVA results (9/9 inattentive symptoms, 4/9 hyperactive-impulsive, definitely has inattentive type ADHD), India's name being called at graduation instead of her deadname, Jenna graduating valedictorian, his friends moving to Virginia and so on - by the time the taxi from the airport pulled up in front of the, by now, rather familiar house.

And then his stomach dropped.

Stephen was still there.

"Do you need help with those bags, Rebecca?" He asked, eyeing the massive, neon pink duffel bag and the incredibly heavy purple backpack that sat on the sidewalk near Remy as he tapped his foot nervously.

"Not from you I don't. Thanks for the offer, but… no thanks."

He was too proud to admit that the duffel was too heavy for him to lift and he could barely drag it, but he packed most of his clothes and books in it. Some were mailed home. But not most.

"That shit gotta be heavy as fuck—"

"I said, no thank you. Now, move out of my fucking way."

Leah was napping by the time he finally dragged everything inside, but Rachel was doodling in the living room, smiling brightly when she saw him come through the door. She abandoned her crayons and waddled all the way to hug him.

As much as he barely knew her, Remy definitely loved Rachel too.

"I'm going to daycare," she mumbled somewhat, trying to use words she didn't quite know yet. "You have to come!"

"You're such a big girl!" He ruffled her pigtails, picking her up. She was so light for a two-year old. "Going to daycare already?"

"Mmhm."

"I'm so proud of you!"

She just hugged his neck and babbled on about her friends and daycare, her hand flying and her almost falling from his hold. This was another happy thing to add to the list.

He wasn't happy. But this was happy. For now.

—————

Stephen left on his business trip at around seven thirty, and Remy took a huge sigh of relief. Leah also woke up from her nap a few hours earlier, all grumpy and upset for some reason, and Remy tried talking her into telling him why she was so upset.

Linda said it was because of the nap. Leah only got even more upset.

"Why am I here?" Remy asked during dinner, while Leah entertained herself (and he was sure she didn't notice much) and Rachel was almost dozing off. "We haven't had a single good interaction since I was five years old, Linda."

"Am I no longer allowed to want to be around my son, Remy?" She stung back, looking anything but as aggressive as she just sounded.

"I'll be honest with you, kid. I know you don't like me. I can understand why. But what I don't understand is why you're bringing this up in front of your younger sisters. They're too young for this to—"

"I saw a movie about penguins on TV," Leah started rambling. "They're really weird…"

The argument stopped just as quickly as it started, and Leah was allowed to go on and on about penguins bringing rocks to each other. So he proceeded to just glare at Linda, who helped Rachel eat her pasta. This was awful, this was absolutely the worst situation he could've found himself in, and… he just wanted out.

And he kept wanting out even as Rachel already went to sleep, Leah was busy doing her homework last minute, and Linda asked Remy to help her clean up.

"I'm only here because Leah asked me to," he almost hissed as he was tasked with packing the leftovers in incredibly familiar tupperware containers.

"I want to spend more time with you, Remy. I'm still your mother—"

"Well, you haven't acted like it, like, ever!"

Linda sighed, putting the plate she was holding in the dishwasher. "I don't want to sound like I'm making any excuses—"

"So don't make any."

"—but I was barely your age when I had you. This is no excuse, I'm not trying to say that I had no idea what I was doing because of that, but I sacrificed so much of my life to raise you!"

"You could've aborted me! You could've been smart and used protection in the first place!"

"Condoms aren't a fail-proof—"

"Face it, Linda. You never wanted me. You're not homophobic or transphobic for the sake of it, it's clear you have at least some level of respect to queer people. You just never wanted me in the first place."

The next plate she was holding broke in the sink. "How fucking dare you say that?!"

"I'm just saying—"

"I have never wanted something in my life more than I wanted you!" Her screams hurt Remy's ears, going as far as to make Leah cry in the other room. Linda immediately lowered her voice. "I know I've been a bad mother to you. I regret every decision I've ever made while I was married to your father, except being married to him and having you. And I've spent every day since leaving you and your father regretting my decisions, and wanting to make it up to you, but you kept pushing me away. How do you think that makes me feel, huh? Do you still think you're the only one who's been robbed of something in this relationship?"

"...you had Leah while you were still married to Dad" was all he could say. And he hoped he'd have the last word. "Was she a mistake too?"

Sadly, you can't always get what you want.

"Leah… is problematic. But she wasn't a mistake either. None of you are, and you can stop saying that. Whatever is wrong with her does not make her a mistake. Just as your gender identity disorder does not make you a mistake."

"No, you're right. It doesn't. It makes me transgender. A female-to-male man. You know those terms? Female to male, transgender? It's what people call it nowadays."

There was another long moment of silence as Linda cleaned up the broken plate and Remy finished packing up the leftovers, and Leah stopped crying.

It was a stressful silence. Very typical of home life with Linda Brigham-Hollander.

"...you may not have come at a time I liked," she sighed after everything, falling into a chair. Remy was ready to leave the kitchen, but this wouldn't let him. "I know we could've… waited a few more years. But you came when you did, and I don't regret that. You were never a mistake. I may have a hard time understanding… what… your identity. I'm trying my best to educate myself now, you know—"

"That's almost five years too late."

"I don't know what Leah told you about her school life, but whatever hardships she got understanding stuff—"

"She has no trouble understanding stuff as far as I can see—"

"Educational stuff. School material. She got that from me. Education comes harder for me, you may not know that. I was never the brightest student and I only completed my high school diploma when you were three years old. Don't get me wrong, this has nothing to do with you. But I couldn't learn when you asked me to. It felt like—"

"Linda, it didn't take Dad five years to be able to call me by my name and use the correct pronouns. Even if you don't mean it this way, this is bullshit to me. And I hope you get it."

And then he got up and left, leaving her to her own. If she cried, well… that's none of his business.

—————

Sunday, June 8th, 2003

Nathalie and Emile were getting ready for the Tony awards when Emile had a panic attack.

No, that's not true. Emile has been having panic attacks all week long for some weird reason he couldn't explain, most likely not being able to talk to Remy all week long since his phone died and he couldn't get a new one just yet. But today was the worst one. So Julie lent him her phone for a call, to explain himself so he won't panic so much, but…

But Remy wouldn't understand. He'd be mad if Emile tried to call him from Julie's phone because of some panic attacks… and then he'd hate him, and then… and then…

Then he wouldn't have a best friend anymore…

What was India's phone number again…?

She picked up on the fourth ring. "India McGinty—"

"It's Emile," he almost sobbed the second she picked up. "I… I have a question…"

"Oh, honey, of course. What is it?"

"Do you think Remy would hate me…? My phone died and I can't get another one until next week and—"

"Emile, are you… are you crying right now?"

"No… I did before, I just…"

She sighed before clearing her throat. That's it, she hates him too—

"Do you mind if I pass you over to Jenna? She's better at this than me."

"...okay…"

"...Emile?" Jenna's voice was softer than India's somehow. She'd never raise her voice, but Emile was scared of the people who'd be there when she does once she becomes a lawyer. "Can you please explain what's going on?"

"Well… my phone died, and I can't tell Remy because he's with his mom and I don't wanna call him while he's with his mom, so I'm scared that if I don't talk to him all summer he'll hate me and then he won't talk to me anymore and I can't—"

"Let's slow down, you're only upsetting yourself. Remy is your best friend, right?"

"Yeah… I mean, I like him a bit more but, but it's not like I can just tell him that, and…"

"That's fine, we're not gonna focus on this for now. That's for another time. But he's your best friend, right?"

"Yeah, I just told you!"

"So why would he hate you for something like that? He's going to understand, I'm sure."

"I don't… know… it just feels like he might…"

"I know. This feeling fucking sucks, doesn't it?" She chuckled. Emile couldn't answer to that. He just… he couldn't. "But it's not healthy to dwell on this feeling. It might become a self-fulfilling prophecy if you fret about it so much."

"What do you mean…?"

"...have I ever told you that I was institutionalized until my second year of college?"

He couldn't stop his jaw from dropping. "No…"

"Okay. So I'll tell you now. I… how squeamish are you? I don't want to… trigger anything…"

"I don't know… I don't… I don't think I really mind much…?"

"Okay, I… I'll censor it anyway. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah."

"So when I was fourteen, I started harming myself. It's not… it was what you'd think, but not for the most part. I didn't cut really. But my parents knew, and they gave a ton of fucks and not just because they had a reputation to uphold like I thought they did back then. They just… they gave all the fucks."

"Okay… I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"Don't apologize, you had no part in this. And you never will. I promise."

"Okay."

"Two years after I started, my parents sent me to a psych ward. At that time they thought I was depressed, it was too early to diagnose me properly, so… I've lived for three years on doses of antidepressants that didn't do a whole lot, because nobody knew. I was finally diagnosed with borderline personality disorder when I was nineteen, my medication prescription was fixed and I was let out of there when they decided I'm doing well enough to be able to live on my own again. I spent my first year of law school with a nurse attached to my hip, can you imagine?" She laughed, and Emile struggled to hold back a smile.

"Actually yeah… my sister is narcoleptic…"

"Oh shoot, sorry… didn't mean that. Anyway… back to the topic at hand, yeah? I was… infatuated, for a lack of a better word, with this guy. His name was David. I thought I was in love with him, but it turned out I idolized him to a point where he became my favorite person, and that was an incredibly toxic experience. He was like… like Angelina Jolie in Girl, Interrupted. But dialed up to eleven. He was a fucking asshole and I haven't seen him in years… he was transferred to another place after an incident that involved one of my friends, she ended up almost killing herself because of this guy. And my anxiety over being perfect for him, over making him like me and making sure that he keeps liking me, made me extremely unhealthy in the long run."

There was a pause, possibly for Emile to process. Most likely. This wasn't fair… this was totally not fair! Why did good people have to go through shitty things?

"My next favorite person after him was a girl I dated for a couple months before India." Jenna sounded kind of breathless at that, as if she was crying herself. "And… she made me talk to her. She asked me questions for clarification all the time and helped me with my anxiety, especially when I felt like this. I was tiring, but… it's the effort she put into this that counted. Emile… you gotta talk to Remy."

"But… but I can't…"

"Who said? Communication is key. I know it might be really hard, especially for you, but… call him. It's his birthday soon, right? In July?"

"Yeah…"

"Call him. Write down everything you want to tell him and tell him then. I promise it'll make your anxiety a lot easier to manage."

————

"Remy," Linda called from the living room as he was heading to bed. This was becoming ridiculous…

"I told you, I'm not talking to you for the rest of this—"

"I can't read a single word in this cursed book of yours."

"...what book?"

"This DSM thing. Remy, darling, why do you need this book? It's so difficult to understand, couldn't they have written better books about this?"

He ended up not going to bed after all, instead resorting to making himself tea and going to sit on the couch next to her.

"Mom, that's… that's the diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders, mom. It's existed since the fifties. This is the revised version. They can't make it simpler to understand, I don't think."

"Well, your grandma's always said that if a child can't understand what's written, it's because the writer is bad at what they're doing."

"And so have a lot of my professors, but sadly this is what we have to work with. What's so confusing anyway?"

"I was trying to read about your… your thing, the gender identity disorder thing…" she turned the book to him. The passages in this section have been highlighted the day he bought the book and he knew them by heart. Well, for the most part. "I'm sorry, but the words are just… long and confusing."

"...that's fine… it's totally fine, I can… I can simplify it for you…"

"I don't need you to simplify it for me, I know English. I just… I can't read this! Big and confusing academic paper words."

Oh fuck…

"I'm a painter, not an academic, Remy. I can't read. You know this. You've known this forever."

"I forgot you're dyslexic…"

"And what does forgetting that help you?"

"Nothing… let's… let's go over this together, okay? The sections that apply to me." He waited for Linda to nod, rather reluctantly, before putting on his own pair of reading glasses.

"So, to diagnose someone with gender identity disorder there are two criteria, identifying with the opposite gender and feeling dysphoria. In order to meet those criteria, you gotta not be intersex, which I think is pretty stupid, and also it has to affect your daily life."

"Yeah, I know that. Your shrink told us that when you were fourteen. Let's move on, okay?"

"...okay. In boys, aka trans girls, this doesn't apply to me… okay. Girls with GID, aka trans boys, display a intense negative reactions to parental expectations, blah blah blah, you never had any expectations of me so this doesn't apply…"

"No no no no no, you will read this out. No skipping."

"Okay, fine! Girls with GID display intense negative reactions to parental expectations or attempts to have them wear dresses or other feminine attire. Some may refuse to attend school or social events where such clothes may be required... They prefer boy's clothing and short hair, are often misidentified by strangers as boys, and may ask to be called a boy's name. Reminds you of something?"

"...go on."

"Their fantasy heroes, yeah no, I never had fantasy heroes…"

"You had She-Ra."

"Yeah, but she made me gay, not trans, mom. Prefer boys as playmates, contact sports… yeah, none of that either…"

"You used to play soccer as a kid. Your dad has a lot of pictures of that, you know."

"I… didn't actually know that… huh."

"You didn't learn to kick a ball from your father, though. I'll tell you that."

It took a bit of time for Remy to stop himself from giggling, deciding to sip his tea instead. It didn't work very well.

"Yeah… well… moving on, ‘they show little interest in dolls or any form of feminine dress up or role-play activity. A girl with this disorder may occasionally refuse to urinate in a sitting position. She may claim that she has or will grow a penis and may not want to grow breasts or menstruate. She may assert that she will grow up to be a man. Such girls typically reveal marked cross-gender identification in role-play, dreams and fantasies.' Does any of this sound familiar, mom? Because I don't… I don't actually know."

"Until now… yeah. All of that sounds incredibly familiar. Look, I…"

"I know what's you're gonna say, and please don't. It's fine. I know you panicked, I know you said things you didn't mean to, but… can we leave that for now? That's a bridge we're gonna deal with later. Now, adults with GID…"

They ended up staying up for far longer than either of them wanted to, but it was alright. Linda wanted to learn. Remy was willing to teach her.

They only barely made it to bed at three in the morning, the page bookmarked for tomorrow, when they'll continue reading.