Oh btw I don’t think I ever posted my bnha lov-themed vest I made back in uhhh…2019? 2020? I made it when the 2nd movie came out, and it was the last movie I saw in theaters before covid hit 😓 this was really my first time painting on fabric so I can see a lot of mistakes now, but I still think it’s pretty fun!!

i love love love yuuji and mean! reader bc deep down i know yuuji has her in the palm of his hand he just don't know it yet

can we get more of them plsss, like how the other (nobara, megumi, gojo) react to their relationship?

𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈

[cws] reader is gn. megumi is married and has a kid.

Gojo thinks it’s funny, as well as a tad bit adorable, to watch the way Yuji stares at you with clear adoration while you fuss, huff and occasionally throw a mildly insulting name his way.

He’s always shown his affection for his friends through a bit of teasing and chiding, and while he can admit that you lack the smiles and laughs that he would don while doing the ribbing, he can still see that you actually care about Yuji, way more than you actually let on.

You two are nearly finished with your studies, almost full fledged sorcerers, and yet you still bicker like you did when you were both first years, but there’s an underlying sense of love and care beneath it all.

~

“Oh, I forgot my lunch on the counter again.” Yuji deflates, and Gojo rocks back in his chair, lollipop rolling around in his mouth as his eyes crinkle in amusement under his mask.

“Of course you did.” Your eyes roll as you plop yourself down into the seat next to him, annoyance clear on your face as you place your own prepared lunch in front of you. “You always do, despite me reminding you every night to grab it before you leave.”

“How am I supposed to remember that? Won’t you reminder me in the morning, instead.”

“Do I look like a slave to you? Remind yourself!” You begin to unpack your lunch, and Gojo takes note of just how much you’ve packed. You’ve always had a healthy appetite, but it’s clear to even the blindest of men that you’ve packed enough to feed two. He grins around the stick in his mouth.

Yuji pouts, even bringing out the puppy eyes, and Gojo gives himself a mental pat on the back for teaching his student so well.

“Oh, I’m soo hungry.”

“Good. Maybe if you starve a bit then you’ll remember to bring your lunch next time.” You coolly reply, making a show of bringing a forkful of noodles to your mouth and moaning in satisfaction.

“You’re so cruel! I’m your boyfriend — be nice to me!” You two throw jabs back and forth, and Gojo is once again glad that all his relationships seem to fall flat past the ‘talking stage’ - once the other person starts trying to dig their way past all the superficial crap and get down to the core of Satoru Gojo. One person had been successful in making that far, and as far as he was concerned, they’d be the one and only person to ever see that part of him.

When Gojo lets his attention drift back to the two of you, he quietly tsks when he sees that you’ve passed a fork, because of course you brought two, to Yuji, along with three containers of food all containing his favorites.

Yuji is beaming, grin on his face as peppers kisses all over your cheeks, and you give him a blank look and weakly try to push his back, but Gojo can practically hear your heart stutter from where he’s sat at the front of the class.

“Ah, young love! You two really know how to make a man feel lonely.”

“Then maybe you should get out and go find someone to cure that loneliness and leave us alone.”

“This is my classroom, y’know.”

“So?”

“This is why no one has recommended you for promotion.”

++

Nobara and Megumi don’t really know how to react to the two of you. They like Yuji, and they like you, but they would have never pegged the two of you as a couple.

They had thought it was a joke when Yuji announced his crush on you, and had thought nothing about it when he talked about eventually asking you out. You ragged on everyone, but it seemed like you reserved most of it for Yuji.

They were sure you were only tolerating him to keep the peace, and even if Yuji was serious about his crush on you, there’d be no way that you’d actually reciprocate the feelings. Nobara had even planned to take charge of the damage control when you inevitably let Yuji down in the meanest way possible.

So imagine their surprise when the two of you had come strolling into class together one day, Yuji’s hand clutching onto yours for dear life as he looked at you as if you had personally breathed life into him and gave him the gift of free will.

Even now, years later, while they attend your rehearsal dinner for your wedding, they find it hard to believe that the person wearing a scowl on their face and avoiding their boyfriend’s advances has stayed this long.

“Hey, Megumi,” Nobara calls, champagne flute clutched between her fingers as she takes a sip, eyes not leaving the way Yuji tries, and fails, to plant a kiss on your cheek. You narrow your eyes at him, the cake knife that had been in your hand suddenly aimed at him as he lets out a loud laugh. “Should we be worried that this marriage will end in a breaking news segment?”

Megumi follows her gaze, head lightly shaking, before focusing his attention on the babbling toddler sitting in his lap. He pinches off a piece of cake from his slice before offering it to the little boy. “If they didn’t kill him when Sukuna popped out and let his in-laws know the real reason why their soon-to-be-married kid was walking funny, I’m sure he’s more than in the clear now.” Nobara snorts, recalling how you had called her enraged and on the verge of tears as you explained how Sukuna had blurted out the night they had and ruined Christmas dinner.

“Guess you’re right.” She looks back towards the two of you, and her eyebrows shoot up in surprise when she sees the complete 180 that you two have taken. The dull knife that had been branded is displaced somewhere, your hands now linked with Yuji’s, diamond rings sparkling together, and there’s a soft, almost bashful, look on your face as he brings your hand up to his mouth and presses a kiss to the ring on your finger.

He smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Nobara sees a matching one spread across your face before he’s swooping down to finally get his first kiss of the night.

“Bleugh.” She dramatically sticks out her tongue, Megumi’s son erupting into a fit of laughter, and slouches in her chair. “I can’t believe you two idiots tied the knot before me—and you even had a kid.”

𝔼𝕡𝕚𝕤𝕠𝕕𝕖 𝟘.𝟝 - 𝕋𝕠𝕠 𝕄𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕥𝕠 𝔻𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕜

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: JJK Men x Female Reader

Episode Summary: After a drunken night of binge watching your (least?) favorite show, you find yourself making a grave mistake.

STORY TWIST: READERS WILL VOTE AFTER CERTAIN CHAPTERS TO CHOOSE WHO GETS A ROSE AND MAKES IT TO THE NEXT WEEK. KEEP A LOOKOUT FOR THE VOTING LINK AT THE END OF CHAPTERS

Story Warning: DRAMA, lying and scheming, REVERSE HAREM, profanity bc I can only be me, arguments, fights probably, heartbreak and tears, (more to come)

Artist Credit: momoya348, Umbra3terna, ilameys,maoyaoyao519, _0_0219 Divider Credit: Cafekitsune (Tumblr)

A/N: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE! I hope you guys enjoy this ride (that you're in charge of in later chapters!!!) I'll put up Episode 1 tomorrow after proofreading!!! <3

“God, this show is so stupid,” you mutter, shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth while you get settled onto the couch.

“Please…It’s so bad, but I tune in to every season.”

You glance over when your friend reaches into your lap and dips her fingers into your bowl of popcorn and grabs a few kernels.

That was the perfect way to describe what was happening now. You’re currently huddled up on the couch, having spent the day binging the most recent season of The Bachelor until you’re all caught up. The new episode airs tonight and you’re eager to see who Joey ends up picking. Will it be Rachel? She’s gorgeous, funny, and her family seems to really get along with this season’s Bachelor. They have great chemistry. Or maybe it will be Daisy? Though you couldn’t see that working out. The girl is a total bore. Or it could be…what’s her name again? The one who looks a little bit like she could be his sister. Ah, whatever.

You’re not sure when you really began to even give a shit about this mess of a show. It’s corny. No one falls in love within a few weeks of knowing each other. And why does one man or woman need to date twenty people to find someone to marry? Are they that unlikeable in the real world? Not to mention, it’s totally unrealistic. Do these relationships even work out once the cameras cut off? Unlikely. You find the entire premise of the show downright stupid.

And yet, you can’t tear your eyes away as this season’s Bachelor takes each girl out on an extravagant date that…you can’t lie, you would love to be on.

Dancing in Malta? Sunbathing on a yacht off the coast of Spain? Getting to see Niagara Falls up close? Sign you up. You don’t think you would stand a chance being the object of everyone’s affection, but you could definitely milk being a contestant for free trips and good food.

“Why can’t he see that Rachel is the best pick here? Ugh, annoying. You know he’s going to give what’s-her-name the last rose.” Your friend downs her wine in one swig and you don’t bother to hold back the laugh bubbling in your chest. She’s all red faced. You’re not sure if it’s from how passionate she is about the show or from the two empty bottles of merlot she’s managed to down practically on her own, but the glowing hue it gives her highlights the thick scar across her face. A product of her line of work, and said line of work being the reason she’s guzzling wine in the first place.

“Maybe take it easy on the drinks, Utahime.”

She hiccups next to you, slouching in her seat. “I haven’t even had that much to drink!”

“You’ve had most of the wine just on your own!”

“Oh my god, you have one or nine glasses of wine and suddenly you’re wasted,” she mutters sarcastically. “I’m fine.”

You roll your eyes, because you know there’s no going back and forth with her stubborn ass when she starts drinking. 

The living room dims for about three seconds before it lights back up, the show now having gone on commercial break. The rose ceremony is next and despite shit-talking the show only ten minutes ago, you’re eager for the commercials to wrap up so you can see who goes home. It better not be Rachel. You use this brief intermission to go and get some water for yourself but mostly Utahime so she can sober up.

This has been your routine for the last few weeks. Every Monday night, Utahime comes over, peels you out of your bed and forces you on the couch to chug alcohol and watch this ridiculous show. While you find the entire premise of the show nonsensical, you’re grateful for the time it’s given you with Utahime.

You’re fairly new to the Kyoto area and Utahime was the first person you’d met on your first day at your new – how can you put this? – unique job. You see, you and Utahime both work in the field of Jujutsu sorcery. But there’s about where your similarities in the field stop.

Utahime is an active Sorcerer. She’s an instructor raising up the next generation of Sorcerers, building them up so that they can one day join the frontlines to protect the unaware non-Sorcerers of Japan. She’s strong– a grade 1 Sorcerer. Quite impressive. She could easily knock a curse’s head off if she wanted to.

But you? Well, while Utahime is at the top of the ranks of Jujutsu society, you are what some would refer to as a bottomfeeder – an unranked, unimportant, lowly Window. You’re someone who has just enough cursed energy to see a curse. But can you do anything about them? Not unless you want to end up in the nearest trauma center. So if you’re smart, you’ll do your job and whip your phone out to report it so that the real Sorcerers can handle it.

You’ve been in this field for several years now, but working outside of the major cities of Japan. Transferring to Kyoto was your idea of wanting something new and different. Utahime had quickly taken you under her wing. You were certain it was because she took pity on you. A weak, barely gifted Window. But as time went on, you came to realize that that was just Utahime. She was kind and funny, and had a good heart. Well, except when it came to –

“Hey!” Utahime calls from her spot on the couch. You can hear a slur in her words as she speaks and you know she’s opened yet another bottle of wine from who knows where. “Come here! Look at this!” You peer at the television from the doorway of your kitchen and see Utahime has it paused on a very ugly ad. It’s bright white with a background full of red rose petals across the screen. Your eyes roam over the words.

“THE SEARCH IS ON FOR THE ELIGIBLE WOMEN WHO ARE READY TO FIND TRUE LOVE! DO YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW HAVE THE CHARM, STYLE, AND PERSONALITY TO BE OUR NEXT STAR? IF SO, APPLY OR NOMINATE SOMEONE NOW!”

“Will you hurry up? Come look!” Utahime demands, messily pouring more wine into her glass. But it looks like a normal advertisement to you, so you’re not entirely sure what has Utahime’s interest so piqued.

She beckons you again, yelling “Come here!” So you quickly grab a couple bottles of water from your fridge and head back. Utahime is pointing insistently at the screen. “Look. Look really hard.”

You follow the path where her finger points, shuffling closer to the t.v. to get a clearer look. It takes a moment for you to see it, like really see it, but it’s definitely there. Underneath the last line, hidden from the eyes of those unable to see the horrors that you and those like Utahime can, is another message. You fall to your knees, eyes glued to the tiny additional message floating beneath, glowing with cursed energy that reads, “JUJUTSU SorcererS PREFERRED”. 

Confusion slowly takes over your features, the corners of your lips turning down with a frown, a brow arched and skepticism in your eyes. Were you missing something? Was this some sick joke? Were Jujutsu Sorcerers huge fans of The Bachelor or something? You spin around to face your friend who has a look of mischief twinkling in her eyes. You know it all too well, mouth falling open and a finger pointing when you scream “NO” at the exact moment Utahime yells “YOU SHOULD APPLY!”

“Absolutely not!” You must be looking at Utahime like she’s grown two more heads because she looks just as confused as you.

“Why not?! You’d be great on there!”

Maybe she hasn’t grown two more heads. Maybe her brain was swapped while you were in the kitchen because why the hell was she suggesting this?

“Well, for starters, I’m not really looking to date.”

Utahime rolls her eyes, as if that’s just not a good enough excuse. You should just ignore her, snatch the remote from her hand and hit play so you can get back to the show and see who this guy chooses to potentially get engaged to. But for some reason (could be the single drop of wine your friend allowed you to have while she downed the rest), you feel the need to keep listing off reasons to not sign up. “Secondly, I– why would I even want to go on this show?”

Utahime sips her wine, eyes low as she falls into her drunkenness, but you can still see the sparkle of mischief in those brown hues…and it scares you. So you keep talking, chatting away and listing excuse after excuse to your friend, eventually finding yourself back on the couch trying to drive your final point home.

“Besides, they want Sorcerers.” This seems to get Utahime’s attention again, makes her set her glass down as she looks at you.

“I’m sure it’s fine. You are a Sorcerer.”

“I’m a Window.”

“Semantics. You can see curses, can’t you?” Utahime argues.

“...yes.” You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “But I can’t do anything about them.”

It’s not something you should be ashamed of, but there’s just the tiniest bit of you that is ashamed. Because being able to see these monsters and not having the power to do anything about them…well, it feels like a curse in and of itself.

To this, she sighs. “Sorcerers, Windows. They’re just terms used by the higher-ups to keep their stupid, fucked up heirarchy intact.”

You know it’s the wine that’s loosened her tongue. In public, Utahime would not dare to speak so freely. The Jujutsu politics in Kyoto were a lot stricter than they were in Tokyo. Not that that said much anyway. The politics were shit regardless. But Utahime worked closely with those connected to the higher-ups, so outside of this little bubble in your apartment, she kept pretty hush hush about her true feelings.

You watch Utahime closely as she fiddles with her wine glass. She really is beautiful. You think she’d be incredible on a show like this. Which gives you the idea.

“What don’t you apply?”

Utahime leans back, a cackle so loud and abrupt leaving her tiny body.

“No way. I would never date any of these Sorcerers.”

“And you want me to?!” You ask incredulously. You don’t know whether to be offended or not.

Your friend fixes you with a deadpan stare. “You don’t know them the way I do. The only good one out of all of them is Nanami Kento…and Shoko.” She mutters the last name quietly, like it’s a secret that she thinks so highly of her. And maybe it is a secret…the way she feels about the doctor in Tokyo who you couldn’t help but notice has Utahime’s cheeks glowing red whenever she’s mentioned.

“Besides,” Utahime continues. “If I signed up for this and got paired with Gojo –” she shudders at the mere thought of being near the man. “I don’t think I’d be able to keep myself from projectile vomiting just at the prospect of having to kiss him.”

It’s your turn to laugh obnoxiously now, because – “Why the hell would the strongest Sorcerer in a thousand years sign up for this shit? You don’t think he has anything better to do? Like, you know…keep all of Japan safe?”

“Satoru Gojo does whatever Satoru Gojo wants.”

You can’t argue with that. Utahime would know best. She did grow up with him after all. She knew him well. You’ve never met the man, being just a Window, you doubt you ever will. Out of all the Sorcerers, you’ve only ever met Utahime and Principal Gakuganji. You’ve never even met any of the students. You all run in different circles, but that doesn't mean you don’t keep up with the going-ons of the Jujutsu world. Everyone knows Satoru Gojo.

“You should really sign up, though,” Utahime suggests once more. “You might meet a good person. If anything, you’ll get a good vacation out of it.” With that, she stands. It’s clear that the wine is hitting her again, because she wobbles clumsily to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

If it’s anything like every other week before this, you’ll be peeling Utahime out of your bathtub because she will have inevitably fallen asleep.

Your eyes fall back on the hidden message on the television, reading it over and over before you finally just hit play and let the finale finish.

Joey chooses whatever that girl’s name is. You’re only halfway paying attention because against your better judgment, you’re actually thinking about applying to this. But you think the show is stupid, right? Why would you waste your time? But what if Utahime is right? What if you do meet someone? It’s not that you’re against dating. You’re just not actively in the market for romance because you’ve found that dating non-Sorcerers is more stress than it’s worth.

The constant obligation you feel to regulate their emotions so you can avoid the creation of a cursed spirit that you’ll have to call in and do paperwork for? Exhausting. Not to mention, if you ever grew to truly love this person, you’d be overwhelmed with guilt if a curse manifested and harmed them in any way and you couldn’t do anything but watch in horror as you made a phone call.

You’d never really given any thought to it, but perhaps dating a Sorcerer is what you needed. You could end up meeting an amazing man!

But also, semantics or not, you were not technically a Sorcerer. You were simply a Window. Why the hell would an actual Sorcerer want to be with you? Better yet, what were the chances of this show even choosing you as their next Bachelorette?

- - - - - -

Apparently, the chances were extremely high, because one phone call, four video interviews, a nearly five hour drive from Kyoto to Tokyo, and days of promotional video and photo shoots later, you find yourself standing outside of the Bachelor Mansion, donning the most expensive gown that money could buy.

This is not what you expected. Not at all. There is so much going on. You want to run and hide from every single camera you see being propped up. You want to curl into yourself when the lights come on and the director calls, “Action!” And you see some man you’re just meeting for the first time approaching as he speaks directly to the camera.

“...and she’ll be making history tonight as The Bachelorette’s first Jujutsu Sorcerer,” you hear him tell the camera as he stops just a few feet short of you. Tall, blonde and handsome. He looks like an American football player. “I’m Jesse Palmer, ladies and gentleman. Now, let’s meet our Bachelorette!”

He turns to you, wearing a bright smile. The cameras follow, moving closer to catch a close-up of your face, so you smile as naturally as you can and try not to flinch when Jesse moves forward to embrace you in a swift hug.

Jesse calls your name as though you’ve been friends for a long time. “So nice to finally see you. You look great.”

The camera pans down your body and back up to your face. “Likewise, Jesse.”

“How’re you feeling?” he asks.

“I’m nervous! Definitely nervous, but feeling good! I’m so excited for this,” you lie. You’re dreading this process. But it’s too late to back out now. So you just hold your smile, conversing politely as Jesse makes small talk and gets to know you before the first contestant pulls up.

And you hope that if Utahime is watching, she sees the message behind your eyes screaming that you’re absolutely going to kill her.

Childhood friends to lovers with Francis Wilkerson x male reader 🙏🙏🙏

Francis thinking he’s straight until he and reader get older and he starts to question himself. They start to lose touch when Francis gets sent to military school, but when he comes back he sees reader and is like “…ok maybe I’m a little gay-“ maybe ends in fluffy kisses 🥹

Kissing The Homie (Francis Wilkerson X Male!Reader)

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Summary: Francis always thought he was straight. When he comes home from military school and sees his childhood friend for the first time in almost two years, he starts to learn some things about himself.

A/N: kind of unserious title bc i didn’t know what to title this lol also i feel like this sucks but i wanted to work on something

***

“What the hell do you mean you’re going to Alabama?” You asked your best friend, about to laugh. This must have been some insane joke. “Francis, you can’t be serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t, man.” He sighed, running a hand through his long hair and taking a drag of his cigarette. “My mom’s crazy.”

“Can you blame her? She’s got you as a son.” You snorted at your own jab, and Francis shoved your shoulder.

“It’s not funny, Y/n! I’m going to military school; I might as well die.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Francis.” You snatched his cigarette to take a smoke. “You’ll get kicked out and be back here before you know it.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He murmured. The two of you were quiet for a minute, passing the cigarette back and forth. In a week, Francis was getting shipped off to a military school across the country, and although you joked about it, you didn’t know when you’d see him again, if at all. Sure, you’d been friends since you were five, but being states away with probably little contact could change that.

“I’ll miss you, man.” You said solemnly before smashing the lit cigarette against the bottom of your shoe. Francis laughed, shaking his head.

“Don’t be gay, dude.” Now it was your turn to push him.

“Shut up.”

***

Contact with Francis became less and less the more that time went on. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault; you two just became too busy with other things. You pulled away from Richie and Francis’ other friends, realizing that you only ever hung out with them because Francis hung out with them. Not wanting to end up in the same boat your friend was in, you started focusing more on school. You and Francis tried to keep up with each other, but sending letters felt too time-consuming, and Francis used most of his phone calls on his family or girlfriend of the week.

You’d sulk about it, but that’s just how life worked.

Because you and Francis were childhood friends, your parents were somewhat close with each other. So you weren’t surprised when you came home from school one day, and your mom told you she got Lois to get you a job at Lucky Aide. The only bright side was getting money, although it wasn’t much.

After what felt like forever, spring break had finally come. It didn’t feel like much of a difference to you since you still had to work, but it’s the thought that counts. You got to work fewer hours because Lucky Aide had some kind of program going on where a bunch of people could work and do inventory for the week. Craig was in charge of it, so you didn’t care much about it.

“Hey, I got another box for you.” A voice sounded behind you while you were stocking a shelf. It sounded a bit familiar, but then again, this was a small town.

“Thanks, man. Just put it next to the open one.” You turned around and were startled by the baby blue eyes looking at you. “Holy shit. Francis?”

“Y/n, hey!” Francis dropped the box and roped you into a hug, patting you on the back. You hugged him back, a bit shocked. “I didn’t know you worked at Lucky Aide.”

“Have been for a few months. I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Just for spring break.”

“Nice, nice.” You nodded, looking him up and down. Military school seemed to do him some good. Not behavior-wise, he was probably still a menace. But you mentally thanked whoever made him cut his hair. Sure, the long hair looked cool. But it looked so good the way it was now, short but messy. And after almost two years, he seemed so much more mature. Again, not behaviorally. He looked, dare you say, kind of hot.

Wait, you shouldn’t be looking at your friend this way. You didn’t like guys.

Maybe.

Little did you know, Francis was looking at you the same way. He didn’t think anyone would look as good as you did in a Lucky Aide smock. You filled it out perfectly. And you had certainly grown a lot since he last saw you, almost reaching his height now with broader shoulders. But you still had the smart-ass smirk on your face that he loved to see.

But Francis wasn’t gay. Nuh-uh. He just knew how to appreciate another dude’s looks. Yeah, that’s it.

“Well, listen, man. I dunno when your shift is over, but I get off at five, so maybe tonight we could catch up or something.” You suggested, continuing your task of restocking the shelves behind you. Even though he probably had something to do, Francis helped you by handing you items from the box.

“Yeah, that sounds great. My mom’s being a real pain in the ass-”

“What else is new?”

“-so I’m a little desperate to get away from home.”

“Well, I have a car now, so just let me know when you’re free.” He was about to answer you when Craig appeared at the end of the aisle.

“Francis! What are you doing here? The bouncy balls are not gonna recount themselves.” You laughed while Francis rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed his peace was interrupted. 

“You better go.” You said, taking the final item from his hands. He sighed, briefly balling his hands into fists before letting them rest at his sides.

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, man.” You patted his shoulder before pushing him away, watching him mope and drag his feet toward where Craig was waiting for him.

***

Instead of waiting until his shift ended, Francis snuck out behind you after you clocked out. He raised the collar of his jacket to cover his face as he ran out to your car, making you cackle as you fished around in your pocket for your keys. He practically dove into the passenger’s seat when the car was unlocked.

“Where do you wanna go?” You asked as you settled in the driver’s seat, turning the car on.

“As long as I’m out of the house and not at work, I literally don’t care.”

Half an hour later, you were tearing into a giant bag of fast food in a park’s parking lot. A random radio station played as you messily ate the cheap food. You reached down to the floor of your backseat and pulled out a bottle of cheap alcohol. Francis definitely wasn’t opposed when you offered to splash some in his soda cup.

“So, what’s military school like?” You asked, chewing through the last of the curly fries. Francis swallowed the bite of his burger and grinned over at you.

“Dude, it’s so much better than I thought it’d be. I mean, most of it sucks, but the amount of shit I’ve gotten into is crazy.”

“Such as?” Francis’ eyes lit up. Clearly, a story had popped into his head, but then he sunk into his seat as if it were embarrassing. “Oh man, this one’s gotta be good.”

“Okay, so it was sometime last year. A buddy of mine and I did community service for a local beauty pageant. It was perfect, half-naked women everywhere who would want some kind of attention. Of course, I showed interest in the pageant to get with one of them. But…” He trailed off, and you leaned toward him in your seat, silently egging him on. He looked away from you. “But instead, she and the rest of the girls thought I was gay.”

You couldn’t help but snort.

“Were they right?” You received an eye roll and a punch in the shoulder.

“Shut up, man.”

“Oh, come on! You can’t tell me all that and expect me to not ask questions.” You looked away and took a bite of your burger, confused by the slight disappointment you felt. It’s not like you really cared about the answer. “It’s no big deal if you are, bud.”

“And who said I am?” Francis’ voice was higher than it just was, like he was slightly panicked by the accusation.

“Those pageant girls, apparently.” You answered with a teasing grin. “Ever kissed a guy?”

“Gee, Y/n, no. Guess I never had the opportunity.” Francis sighed, taking a large sip of his spiked soda. You raised your eyebrows in surprise. Sure, it seemed believable while he lived in a military academy in Alabama. But, especially looking the way Francis does now, you’re hesitant to believe he never even had the offer.

Huh, maybe you did like guys. Or at least a guy.

“Do you want an opportunity?” The words left your mouth before you even thought about them, surprising you further. By the look on his face, Francis was just as surprised.

“What?” He managed to choke out. You shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about the fact that you had just offered to kiss your childhood-turned-somewhat estranged best friend.

“Just saying, Francis. Better to kiss a friend than a stranger. Besides, who knows? You might like it.” You kept out the part that you were now secretly rooting for him to accept. You smirked at a now thoughtful Francis, trying to seem uncaring yet slightly intrigued by the whole matter.

A quiet Francis wasn’t a good one, which had you worried. You had half a mind to laugh, claiming that you were joking or that the cheap alcohol had taken your filter. But you were too deep now; you wanted to know what he’d say.

Francis licked his lips before turning to look at you, taking a deep exhale.

“Fuck it.” The craziest part was that he seemed completely serious.

Wordlessly, you both prepared yourselves. There seemed to be this unspoken agreement that whatever happened in your car would stay in your car until the both of you died. You took a final long sip of liquid courage before Francis took your face in his hands. You didn’t expect him to take charge of the situation, but you’re glad he did because the situation probably wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t.

The kiss was quick but enough to absolutely boggle your mind. Francis slipped one of his hands to the back of your head to draw you in. His fingers became tangled with your hair, keeping you in place after he pulled away. The two of you were quiet with eyes closed, not knowing how to proceed.

“Am I a good kisser, Wilkerson?” You asked, trying to lighten the mood. Francis took the shy grin off your lips with another quick kiss, and when he pulled away, you opened your eyes this time. His baby blue eyes stared at you, filled with surprise and profoundness and what you wanted to say was lust.

“Okay…” Francis licked his lips again, taking a deep breath. God, it was so hot. “I think I might be a little gay.”

“Agreed.” You replied, staring back at him. He immediately went back in for a kiss that was longer and deeper than the previous ones. And you didn’t complain in the slightest.

Glad you enjoy the Drift piss as much as I do

A different session with Ratchet, Drift's on his knees rocking slightly side to side to help him hold it in. Eventually his hands migrate down to his crotch, holding tightly. Face red and internal fans on overdrive, he knows its not going to be very long before his frame gives up.

Ratchet, of course, reminds him that he's not allowed to touch himself. That any orgasms that do happen belong to him, and may only be done with his permission. Being the kind mech he is though, he lets Drift grind against his thigh to keep his waste tank in check.

Drift comes over, thighs practically glued together the whole time. Ratchet makes him open up his panels before anything happens, and congratulates Drift on keeping everything all in so far. He was almost certain by his little potty dance that he was already leaking. The comment is embarrassing, and like electricity to Drift's array.

Ratchet's praise doesn't stay true for long. Upon finding a good rhythm on his thigh, Drift starts to forget to hold it in. As he grinds his node and spike down, he focuses more on just how close he can get to cumming without Ratchet noticing. A few drips, a squirt, a leak, he vaguely remembers the goal and clenches to stem the flow. Ratchet's thigh is slick and warm with waste as he tries to be a good, obedient mech and grinds down harder

i dont think i even have to add anything to this. this is so good. that said, read more time bc i do have a lot to say about this actually ⬇️

Drift already knows how their sessions operate, he knows how mean Ratchet can be when he wants to, so this time around he puts in extra effort to really, really impress him, holding it in even as he can't stop his face from twisting, wincing, legs quivering as he fights the urge to press his hands against his groin again. He can barely walk over to Ratchet when ordered to, that's how full he is. And the humiliation of having to waddle over while Ratchet says such demeaning things makes him stumble.

Despite that, Drift manages to hold it in as he sits his bare valve and spike onto ratchet's thigh. The stimulation makes his waste tank pulse so hard he starts slowly rocking back and forth to try and keep it in, gasping when the pleasure only intensifies. Ratchet holds his waist, helping Drift move, kissing his cheek, saying disgusting things right into his audial. Meanwhile, Drift is shaking, holding onto Ratchet's shoulders as his valve and spike drip lubricate... Everytime charge surges through his frame, his thighs squeeze around Ratchet's leg, and a little bit of piss drips out of him, the momentary relief so great he's immediately brought to the edge of an overload, quickly snatched away when he remembers that he has to hold it in. He clenches, valve twitching. It repeats so many times that over time, he visibly stains ratchet's thigh with his waste, getting a scolding for daring to sneak little squirts when Ratchet specifically told him to keep it in, for just a little longer, Drift, seriously, for such a big scary swordsman you're so weak-willed, it's embarrassing...

Drift is so worn and high strung he's shivering in Ratchet's hold, so, so close, but not sure to what- he doesn't know whether he'll overload or piss himself the next time he lets loose. Then, at some point, Ratchet's thigh impatiently bucks up against his valve and before Drift knows it, he's overloading and pissing himself at the same time, pelvic floor so weak with pleasure he's unable to pinch it off... He makes a mess of himself and Ratchet, whose disappointed glare is only making his spike throb harder...

Hello to start with I was concerned about where u went but then realised oh new username excellent crisis averted...

ALSO the main reason I'm in ur inbox is I need a little shitty steve characterisation vent so here goes:

I keep coming across (accidentally) those characterisations of steve (in steddie context) where he's like "i love to be subby and give up control bc I've always had to be in control and it's a relief to take a break from this." And like. canonically steve is the one whose autonomy is always the most hijacked like he's just dragged along with the major plot decisions everyone else makes - i remember a beautiful piece of meta i read a while back that summarised its point in a line like "steve hasn't made a single decision for himself since he chose to go back in the byers house in s1."

Also i believe you've discussed a bunch in the past (or one of your mutuals did?) that he is very much a take charge kind of guy, taking as an example all the russian base shenanagins and his role in those.

And that plus societal/peer/parental pressure (particularly during 'king steve time') to be a certain kind of guy and live a certain way makes me think in fact he would be the complete OPPOSITE??? In regards to needing to give up control if anything I think he'd want to take it back (both in a life decisions and potentially in Sexy Situations kind of way).

Optional extra point that i change my mind on back and forth, in the particular context of steddie I'd almost put eddie (if you had to place them into this specific d/s retaking/giving up control dynamic which you absolutely don't have to) into that characterisation of feeling relief in not having to be in control, as he's the one always having to constantly push back against society and assert his "freakishness."

Long rant over, thank you for always being the blog I can click onto and scroll if I want to read a salty accurate take about fandom characterisations!!

glad you were able to find me again! honestly it’s still kinda crazy to me that people like… recognise my username and seek me out lmao.

i will always be here for some salty takes. you know that post that’s like, what if my hobby is being a hater? literally me.

oh i love that line! yeah, i think it’s really interesting how steve has increasingly not had any control over the direction that his life is going in. he’s a character that is very much so at the mercy of others. like, thinking about the last two seasons, he was tied up and beaten, then strangled and eaten. even looking at the very way that he’s getting injured, it’s all something that he couldn’t fight against!

getting back on topic tho, yeah, i really dislike the super subby idea of steve that is incredibly pervasive throughout the steddie fandom. it just feels so out of character. like, obviously sexual preferences don’t necessarily have to align with a persons personality, but they just really aren’t writing about steve anymore.

yeah no i agree, steve has admitted that he went along with shit in high school because he wanted to be perceived a certain way, so i think it would make more sense that he would want to take that control back in any way he could, be himself in a way he couldn’t before. also. not to get crass, but steve just seems like someone that really enjoys giving, even in the bedroom. like, he wants to make sure the other person is having a good time. and so, i think it makes sense that he would want at least a little control over that.

yeah, i do not think d/s dynamics make sense for steddie’s relationship, and i think it’s kinda weird that people feel the need to make their sex very restrictive and kinky. but also i agree that i think it makes more sense for eddie to be… the not in control one. i also think eddie would like the feeling of being desired. like, eddie is an outcast, he’s a freak, even if he’s welcomed that role. i think he would definitely enjoy king steve being the one, kind of, reaching out and going after him, in that way.

but yeah, i do not like subby steve, and i think it’s weird the extent to which people have decided that steddie’s sex life has to involve kinks that often directly contradict their characters. obviously, enjoy what you enjoy and have fun writing smut, i just do not like it.

I thought about digital detox and maybe, like, switching to a dumb phone where all I can do on it is make calls, send texts... But then I went outside and found out that it won't work because there's so many things that require a smart phone these days -- ordering from a restaurant, paying, etc. Also I miss convos on apps like discord and stuff. (Maybe good thing? Idk.) But again that'd require me to buy a dumb phone bc 3G is dead and old phones don't work anymore, so. That's more #consumerism that I'm trying to avoid.

So I decided to simplify the launcher on my phone so I only really see the apps I really need (mail, text, phone, camera) and the entertainment apps are hidden behind a second click. At least that layer of separation puts a stop to my brain mindlessly scrolling to find apps that I find shiny and scrolling in a different direction in said app! But it is definitely not as satisfying as carrying a brick phone and an mp3 player and an e-reader, and being like, ha! Look at me. I'm a retro warrior. Check out my phone that I can also use as a weapon. My e-reader battery lasts a whole month without charging. My mp3 player has a headphone jack. I'm not that cool yet.

(Speaking of e-readers, I wish there were phones with e-ink screens. All I do is read things on it. Imagine it was e-ink so it's easier on the eyes?! It would suck at videos and stuff and that's why it's so great. Making it impossible to waste time on it.)

I also feel weird listening to the same album over and over on Spotify because it makes fun of me at the end of the year, but ... That's how people used to listen to music until streaming services came out. They bought albums and listened to it over and over. So why shouldn't I? I've been downloading albums on Spotify and listening to them, but now I'm wondering if I should dust off my old mp3 player and put some albums in there. 🏴‍☠️

I keep on going back and forth between digital vs physical. Like sure, having physical things take up a lot of space and it's hard to carry it around, but then digital storage costs a lot of money and requires either a subscription or shelling out a lump sum to get an external drive... Which will run out of storage again in the future as you continue to fill it with things you love... It's so hard to find the right balance. I know drives aren't as fragile as it used to be but I also think about babying the device so it doesn't skip LOL like I'm not dealing with a hard drive with a needle here, it's an SD card, like c'mon.

Also I remember when apps used to be like, one time payment to remove all ads and unlock pro features! And now it's impossible to find ones like that unless it's an old app. It's all Free*! I hate that so much. Just take my money (once) and unbind me from thy grasp.

maybe one day I'll be free from subscription services. Because I hate having the mindset of oh, I paid for it. I need to maximize it to get my money's worth, and end up spending way too much time on it. Let me live my life on my own pace!!!!!

We have heard your gospel on the shitty finale. Now, dear prophet, I humbly ask for your fix-it ideas

OK SO

you said FIX IT... so how would i fix it. oh in so many ways. but to make what we had WORK, its simple. ive said it before and i will say it again. 3 simple things:

- having no way back to amphibia is treated by the characters as something unfair and theyre all very broken up about it, especially anne. she's inconsolable. shes not accepting just cuz omg i changed i will just take every bad thing life keeps throwing at me here throw some more

- we get to see anne reunite with her parents when shes back (sasha and marcy with theirs too would be nice but thats another can of worms to open)

- after the trio hug in the timeskip, have an actual open end where we see a light flash when they walk off screen. like they went... Somewhere 😳 thatd be cool, like have they opened it before? is this the first time? is it even a portal? dont know, actual open end ✌️

(people keep saying what we got was an open end and the more i think about it the more i call bs. it wasnt open ended they just didnt go back to amphibia and ur in denial. cry about it ig)

anyways id be so happy with an ending like that. im not even changing much its just adding 3 things.

(also id probably skip on the trio growing apart and shit. like i keep saying, i dont think them growing apart in the situation where amphibia is closed for good works out. its just weird. like yeah we close this chapter that totally didnt mark us for life and we move on 🤟 BUT AGAIN JUST LIKE SASHARCYS PARENTS, THATS ANOTHER CONVO)

AS FOR AN ACTUAL FIX IT... to make exactly what we got work we'd have to rewrite the whole thing. not make it about saving the world, not making it so much about family, changing everything. cuz that ending just shits on everything lmao if the ending we got actually worked then amphibia would have to be a completely different story

ANYWAY a fix it would be what i said. tbh i like it when u add those 3 things. its genuinely bittersweet like that. it makes me angry about how its only 3 simple little things that couldve been added and i wouldve been content. but whatever

HOWEVER, A DELUSIONAL ENDING THAT WOULD MAKE ME HAPPY WOULD BE: annes given 3 full stones, bc i dont see why tf not if she meets god. i mean if its gonna be nonsensical then lets be nonsensical all the way and have 3 stones. each of them get one, and they can use it to travel back and forth by themselves. each time they have to charge it.

this means they dont usually Go together. they go separately, and if theyre ever in amphibia at the same time they might not even know. sasha always warps at toad tower, anne in wartwood, marcy in newtopia. they go to amphibia for their own purposes and business. and thus the trio grows apart.

it makes more fucking sense, ofc i think the trio growing apart makes sense, it just Doesnt when you add it up with closing off amphibia forever lol. but with amphibia being accessible i totally see it. theyre all doing their own stuff and making their own friends (both human and amphibians). even like this, after what they went through, sasha anne and marcy are intertwined for life. no matter how much time passes, how different they become, theyre unique to each other. they always come back to each other at one point. other than that, amphibia is open, they get to grow up in a place they love with people they love without having to sacrifice choosing one or the other bc that Sucks Ass and they've been thru enough, and have enough mental scars that will keep haunting them even after if they get to thrive in both worlds

this version is kinda. unrealistic. i get it. but the realistic ending we got was bullshit and shitted on everything, its sad and not to mention Boring. i think this ver still gets the point across (point that was already made so many times in the show anyway), sprig and anne grow up together, anne still becomes a herpetologist but now instead of fucking tragic and sad its very fun and cute, sasha has a getaway from her chaotic homelife and can be with grime who never ever EVER left her side, marcy gets to become close to olivia like shes failed to do and hence gain an actual mother figure in her life, etc etc. hehe

(and as adults sasha and marcy choose to move to amphibia. or as teenagers they just straight up stay there. but thats another convo as well)

i actually do enjoy a version where they only go back after 10 years and they have to reconnect, its fun to explore, but it never stops being Sad. i think of it and make hcs about it and comics about it but it never stops being full on sad ending to me and when i remember its not just a fun concept im exploring, its the genuine ending we got that is supposed to be Good and Satisfying, i become enraged. i continue not to see the sweet in the bitter. i wish people would at least admit its full on a very sad ending instead of pretending it was something else (people who liked it say it makes them want to d1e or say "idk i just like sad endings" so u agree. u agree it is a sad ending where characters end up sad)

anyways. kind of a stupid ramble here. i love amphibia (kicks the ending on the throat)

🌿 + 🥀

✉️ : LETTER TO SANTA ( decided to do them tgt )

Buzz,

This one might be a bit difficult. I feel like we talk about almost everything, so searching deep down to find something I haven’t yet vocalized is kinda hard.  I’ll give it my best shot, but … sorry if it gets a little rambly at some point. You're a breath of fresh air. You’re a blessing I never knew I was searching for. You've helped me through countless issues– though, let’s be real, you’ve also been the cause of most of those issues. But without that added dose of chaos in my life, I'm not sure I would've made it as far as I have. I won’t go and be dramatic or anything but, the day you were assigned as my roommate is one I look back on fondly, because it's the day that I met that… one really awkward guy who swore my computer was talking to him ( aka you, if you didn’t get it ) . I think for one, I've never gotten a chance to say this to you face to face but …thank you. Genuinely. For consoling me at night when you notice I'm stressed or on rare occasions, if I'm imbalanced and am probably scaring you while switching back and forth because of a sudden panic attack. Thank you for also making me laugh. Albeit, most of that laughter comes at your expense because you're so bad at skateboarding and always choose to do it inside the dorm room, but it really helps me destress most days. I normally keep away from people because I never know who i can befriend since a few people in the past have had nefarious intentions after figuring out what my power entails but you’ve always been overly respectful of boundaries, even of ones I wasn't aware I had. And that makes you so special. You’ve earned my trust and let me tell you…that's…pretty rare. To sum it up…I hate to admit it but  those nights where you’re overwhelmed by technology are quickly becoming my favorite over the past few months. Because, frankly, I enjoy the idea of turning off all of our technology for one night and just doing whatever chaotic list of shenanigans comes to our minds, just because we can. It’s the one day in a week where i can let loose and not feel like i'll be judged switching 10-20 times during out conversations based off of emotions or…thoughts. Also…?  Racing up to the roof to just sit in a childish blanket fort and stare at stars that would otherwise elude us, is a plus. I never knew I was lonely in that dorm room, until you moved in. Now I find myself waiting for you to come back from classes just to have someone to ignore me for the better part of the day. Not sure why… but silence is so much better when you have someone to be silent with. Okay sappy shit aside. You're pretty cool. Thanks for being my roommate, blah blah. I’m writing this letter by hand to give your brain a bit of a tech break, so you're welcome. Read it too much or get too happy about it and i'm burning it. Ps. thanks for trying to figure out how to charge my phone, i hope you figure it out soon bc i broke my charger...again.

Sincerely, Jinsol. 

🥀 : 3AM DRUNK TEXT ( ✉️ )   SMS    →   BUZZ  

delivered / 03:10 am ✓ › i mayu or may not be be drunk but..serious quest chin (?)

delivered / 03:19 am ✓ › queschion › queschien › [voice note] hey siri spell question oh thats not- › [speech to text] hey siri spell question › [speech to text] spell question › [speech to text] quest in › [speech to text] no spell question › ayeeee it didit › wait fcuk wat was my questchin againn?

i am the anon who asked earlier about the character limit ! i’m ready to send my ask now-

so could you write something about a female mc (or gender neutral it’s up to you !) that doesn’t take a shit form anyone ? like when someone bother she just “tsk” before threatening them and the bois are like “wtf that was kind of hot tho-“ .

i can see them just simping for her like we simp for them and it’s making me laugh-

also i’m not really sure if you write for them but a small reaction of perhaps side-characters to her ?

i’m really asking for too much skdkdjdksowkw-

thank for reading it and i hope i’m not bothering you ! ( ´ ▽ ` )

Alright, for this one, anon allowed me to pick some Twst guys to react to MC

But, ahem…. hope they’re (and y’all are) happy with the way I carried this out

Neige (& dwarves) + Che’nya are also included, as they wished to see side characters react to this MC too

Let’s get started (bc it’s loooong)~! 

HAPPY 1st ANNIVERSARY, EVERYONE!! 🥳🎉

-- -- --

OVERVIEW

Heartslabyul: Riddle is very surprised at her behavior and may scold her for it, but he secretly admires the confidence and will to stand up for herself. Trey is also taken aback, but well… if that helps her get through NRC, fine by him (he pretends not to see). Cater SIIIIIIMPS like duuuude THAT ATTITUDE IS WHAT HE DESIRES TO HAVE AGAINST HIS SISTERS (she’s his role model now). And man, do I even need to say what Ace and Deuce think? PLAIN FUN, and they simp, Deuce a little more than Ace.

Savanaclaw SIMPS and simps HARD. Ruggie and Leona due to females in Afterglow Savana being overall more respected. Not to mention IRL lionesse are in charge of hunting and female hyenas are the dominant ones in pairs. Jack I see as someone who admires people who are strong and can stand for themselves, and a no bullshit MC is wow… but perhaps he thinks maybe she could be a little more polite.

Octavinelle is a little hard to read. Azul first is very surprised and a bit offended, but once he finds out she acts this way towards everyone and anyone… Be ready to become his 3rd bodyguard lol. Leech Twins adore to annoy her, Floyd provokes her more with tugs and shoves while Jade can just throw ANY comment her way with that smile to trigger the instinct; she’s become their little plaything of sorts.

Scarabia: Kalim is SHOOKED!!!! The first time he hears her comments leaves him with a surprised pikachu face. Jamil is startled a bit, but man… SIMPS, and is like "you speak my inner thoughts".

Pomefiore: Vil is also VERY surprised, but admires the way she so willingly defends herself with only words and harsh glares (anger looks very pretty on her). Rook SIMP, yuuup. He's amazed at how just one comment and death stare from her has magic wielders cowering in fear, gets goosebumps from excitement when those are directed at him. Epel simps too! Like DAMN HE WANTS TO STAND UP FOR HIMSELF LIKE THAT!!! No more stupid etiquette classes, time to be tough! (Vil quickly turns his plan to dirt tho lol)

Ignihyde: Idia is ?????? At times, he's very intimidated by her, but on other occasions he's ready to talk back (this especially when he's communicating through the tablet). Ortho is shook, too. For someone who comes from another world and is scared by many possible scenarios in this Wonderland, they're surprisingly brave. He likes her! Get ready to be his Big sis

Oh man, Diasomnia… Malleus is surprised when he first sees the change of attitude, since she's nice in his nightly visits to Ramshackle, but very soon he'll be like "I like this human" Slowly becomes her simp.  Lilia is VERY amused by her behavior and sometimes likes to provoke her. As soon as a threat is thrown his way, however, he'll be ready to throw one back as he smiles brightly. Silver is surprised, they all cower before her, how?! He may or may not simp, but he absolutely looks up to her (wishes to be more assertive like that). Boy oh boy… Sebek… SHOOKED; just try to say something rude to his Young Master, get ready for the loudest "EXCUSE ME?!" and following rant. Shooked and shooked TO THE CORE.

ALL the staff are very irritated by her antics, but the ones more vocal about it that have a little back and forth with her are Crowley and Crewel. Sam just laughs it off, besides it's rare for her to threaten him (mainly bc he gives special discounts for her).

BOY...RSA… Neige is SHOOKED, but rudeness never stopped him from making friends and pull a smile out of them (well, ya better stop right there bc she's ready to PUNCH). Needless to say, majority of dwarves are surprised too… except, Grant who just chuckles and says like Jamil "speaking my inner thoughts".  Che'nya acts as if it's the most normal thing, doesn't flinch back or anything ("we're all mad in our own ways~ it's the norm here")

In the end, all of them simp for her, one way or another~ (and let her get away with a handful of stuff bc simps)

Heartslabyul

"Aren't you the cutest little thing~? Look at your lil' nose sniffing my finger so adorably!!" The [color] haired girl gushed at the hedgehog in her hand, carefully petting its colorful quills.

Someone sighed in irritation at her behavior, "Stop that! We're not allowed to pamper the hedgehogs like that, so cut it off!"

[Color] eyes narrowed at the intruder, "And who here says I care what you, or the rules, say? They're animals, pets practically. You need to show them affection for them to live long, happy lives, dumbass."

At the small scene, Trey interrupted, “Let's please act accordingly. Come on, we need help painting the roses." The 3rd year signaled the other Heartslabyul student to follow.

"What?! No, not fair! How come she's not getting punished for this when we get scolded for it?!" He raised his voice.

"Hey now, leave [Name]-chan alone, she isn’t bothering anyone. Be a good kouhai and listen to Trey-senpai. Remember vice dorm leader is just as respected as dorm leader here." Cater cut in, trying to somehow make things lighter.

"Bull-!" Before the guy could even finish his sentence, Riddle appeared.

"What seems to be the matter here? At this rate, if you keep getting distracted with unimportant things, we won't have our preparations ready." The redhead followed their gazes to the girl sitting on the floor surrounded by a rainbow of hedgehogs.

"Ah, I understand." Riddle nodded.

"Thank-!" However, the student was once more cut off by the 2nd year.

"[Surname] was appointed by me personally as hedgehog caretaker. Her activities consist of cleaning cages, feeding, and the important task of pampering them with affection and love." Heartslabyul's dorm head explained, "We do play croquet frequently, and many 1st years don't treat our animals superb. Not to mention, it is said the Queen of Hearts herself would pamper her hedgehog just like [Surname] is doing… Admirable, don’t you think?"

"Are we clear now?" Slate grey eyes looked sternly at his dormmate.

Defeated, the boy accepted. "Yes, dorm leader Rosehearts."

"Go help Cater and Trey with rose duty." Riddle dismissed the boy.

On his way out, a certain troublesome 1st year made an indirect comment.

"That's why you get informed before complaining about things~" Ace teased.

Deuce smacked his friend on the back of the head, "Shut it, we committed the same mistake when we first saw [Name] baby talking the hedgehogs."

"H-Hey! There was no need to reveal that!"

Savanaclaw

Full cafeteria, the worst scenario ever. Not to mention both [Name] and Grim were starving.

So, when she saw an opportunity to get in line for the (oddly) short line for [fav. food], she did. However…

“What the fuck’s up with you?! Just because you’re a girl ya think ya get special treatment, dumbass?!” Some random rude student said.

Oh, bad move, idiot.

All [Name] had to do was throw an icy glare their way and turn away slowly for the boy to tremble in his socks.

Human and Grim picked their full and finally headed to any empty spot available, which resulted in them sitting with the Savanaclaw students, who watched the scene unfold.

“[Name]-san, that’s some temper you’ve got-” Ruggie began talking, but was immediately silenced by the same icy stare.

“To hell with that, I am hungry and ready to destroy the world, so better keep your mouth shut to see your future.” The girl grumbled, taking the first bite of her precious meal.

Three pairs of ears flattened in shock, looking at one another to agree on what they experienced right now.

“Wait a second…” Ruggie thought, breath hitching after receiving such cold glare.

Jack kept a watchful eye as he drank his water, strange warmth crawled up his face. “That was…”

Leona, for once, looked awake enough. Green eyes with a tinge of respect reflected in them, teasing smile slowly developing on his face. “Seems like the herbivore has some fight in her… Nice, very nice…”

“That was… very attractive…” The trio gulped down whatever they were eating, before averting their gaze elsewhere to hide the blush. Except Leona, he chuckled silently before looking down at his plate to recover from the little display of power from her part.

Meanwhile, the otherworldly student and cat monster shared a confused look. “Weirdos… Do they enjoy seeing me eat? Yeah, not sitting down with them again.” [Name] decided.

Octavinelle

"Keobi-chan~!"

"Not again…" [Name] grumbled between teeth. Just as she thought she was out and away from the whole Octavinelle trio, these two come again for her.

"Let's go, koebi-chan! Azul wasn’t done talking with you~” Floyd grabbed onto her arm and tugged.

“You two never know when to stop, or do you?” Grim swiped at Floyd’s hand as best he could from the girl’s shoulder.

Then came the chuckle she hated most, that instantly ignited that fight or flight instinct in her. “Please, Floyd is simply stating the truth. Azul is adamant in speaking to [Surname]-san, it’s only expected of her to allow him some time. After all, he was so gracious to lend his help when she most needed.” Jade linked his arm with her free on and began walking.

“Oi! Get your hands off me! I’ve heard enough from Azul! I’ve declined the offer more than enough times for it to get through his head!” The [hair color] stood her ground as much she could, but the two towering eels still dragged her to their destination.

Floyd laughed, “Little shrimp fighting for her life when she’s already lost~” He shot Jade a look and his twin immediately knew what he wanted to do. They lifted her from the ground and began swaying side to side.

“What the hell?! Let me down, let me go! I’ve had enough of you! We’ve helped Azul more than enough already!” [Name] and Grim were left to flair and yell more protests while the twins chuckled and laughed at their predicament.

Eventually, they arrived at Octavinelle and the two-halves-of-a-whole students were plopped down onto the couch inside Azul’s V.I.P. office. The tweels left them with those sinister pointy teethed smiles of theirs, sending chills down the duo’s spines.

“Now now, [Name]-san, Grim-san, do keep your voice down. I’ve got a deal much better than our last offer. Hear me out, now would you?” Azul spoke, suave and sleazy as ever.

“No, cut it out already! Just accept I won’t-!” Her complaints were interrupted by the octomer’s firm statement.

“One meal!” After noticing he had their attention, the dorm leader continued, “One free meal for the two of you each day, along with some Madol… All for [Name]-san’s intimidation services and Grim-san cleaning dishes.”

“Make it TWO meals and it’s a deal!” Grim quickfired.

“NO! No, no!” The [color] eyed refuted. She leaned close to Ashengrotto over the desk, eyes narrow and eyebrows furrowed, “...Make it two free meals AND drinks daily, with a nice pay… and throw in some deluxe tuna cans from time to time…”

Grim perked up at that, eyes shifting from human to merman as they stared each other down to see who relented first.

Azul sighed, “Very well…” A gloved hand came forward, “Have we got a deal?”

[Eye color] looked into baby blue, before nodding and shaking his hand. “A deal it is, but” [Name] leaned even closer, right on the gray haired’s face, “Let it be known that just you fail once on giving the pay and it’s over, Ashengrotto.”

He snorted, “Oh, no need to worry about that, I always hold onto my end of the contract.” Taunting gaze mocked the [hair color], “The thing is, can you?”

“This damn Octavinelle people..!” [Name] felt fire light up her veins from anger and irritation at his words.

Scarabia

“Grim, look! We once more have a delicious cream cheese for you to enjoy with crackers!” The ever excitable Kalim exclaimed, reading a pair of crackers to feed Grim.

Before his hand could get any close to the scared cat’s face, [skin tone] hads grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Kalim, how many more times do I have to tell you?! Stop that!” An exasperated sigh followed her words. She let go of his arm.

Kalim (and pretty much all of Scarabia) looked at her. “No, not those big round cute ruby eyes…” The girl thought, feeling herself relent already. “Only for you… only for this ray of sunshine will I try to be less on the fence…”

[Name] cleared her throat, “W-Why don’t you… try asking Grim properly if he would like some first, instead of just shoving the food in his mouth!” An awkward giggle left her lips. “Was that better?! That did not sound better, at all! No!! It was harsh!” 

Silence carried on afterwards, making her feel even more awkward and nervous of her actions. There’s a first time for everything.

“She’s right on that. You understand, don’t you, Kalim?” Jamil broke the silence, turning everyone’s eyes to him now. “As host, you should offer your visits amenities correctly, not force them upon them.” The dark haired boy remained focused on his plate of curry while he informed his dormmate.

“Oh! Of course, of course!” The dorm leader snapped out of his zoning out, “Apologies! Grim, would you like to try the cream cheese?” Kalim recovered his pep, bringing close the plate of cheese and crackers to Grim.

“Ah… No, thank you…” The monster declined. “However… I would like to try the dates you have over there.”

“Sure, no worries! Try as much food as you like! This banquet is for everyone to enjoy, after all!” Just like that, everyone’s spirits were lifted, and the party returned to its full swing.

From across the table, Jamil threw the [hair color] a smirk and a nod. She looked away with a faint blush on her cheeks.

Pomefiore

“She dares show her face here, dressed like that?”

“And with a stinky, dirty raccoon hanging from her shoulder.”

“As always, these pretentious idiots…” [Name] tried to steel herself, taking deep breaths as she carried on towards the Pomefiore common room. Vil asked for her presence here for some idea he had in mind and wanted to carry on.

“Fuh-nyah, this place always smells like perfume… Has me sneezing all over, eugh.” Grim rubbed his nose to ease the itching.

The girl giggled lightly, petting her companion. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the smell in a few seconds.”

“Ah, Trickster [Name], Monsieur Hirsute! Bienvenue à Pomefiore!” Rook welcomed them, as colorful as ever.

“[N-Name]? You’ve been… summoned here, as well?” Epel seemed surprised to see his friends here.

Vil stood up from the throne, “And just in time you’re both here. Could’ve done with a few extra minutes of head start, but at least you’re here and didn't arrive late.” The elegant 3rd year went over to explain his idea to the 1st years.

However, as the dorm head explained, the comments continued…

“Seriously, can’t she take the hint she’s not wanted here?”

“As a girl, she should know to take better care for herself.”

“Alright that’s it.” The Ramshackle prefect took a very deep breath and interrupted Vil, “Yeah, uh, apologies for cutting you off, but let me take care of some matters.” Turning around, the [color] haired looked over at the group that kept saying unasked opinions.

“Hey, you pompous people with deliriums of grandiose!” At the start of her screaming, Vil and Rook braced for the worse while Epel drew a very big smirk.

Everyone kept their dignified faces, sure that their dorm leader and vice head would have their backs.

“I dress bad? I don’t take care of my skin, nails, lips, hair? Grim isn’t always smelling nice?”

“Hey! What with that, [Name]?!”  “Shush, you…”

“Just because I’m a girl you dare assume what I should act like?!” She scoffed, “Well, let me see you survive in a world far different than your own, disoriented and with no means to go back, live on a tight budget along with your equally as disoriented monster friend, with the only clothes you own being very mistreated and old uniforms students left in a rundown dorm!”

Everyone looked at her and murmured.

One of the students spoke up, practically laughing at her face, “What? Want us to feel pity for you? Sounds to me like you’re not trying hard enough.”

Grim himself was ready to burn this scum to a crisp, but thankfully, someone else stepped in to defend their friends.

“Oh? Like you’ve clearly not been doing?” Vil glared at the boy harshly. “Don’t think just because you’re good looking you have an immediate pass to be a student of Pomefiore, of NRC. Your grades are lacking, and for someone in this dorm to be that terrible in alchemy is ruinous. Seriously, an F in potion making? You strive to be as resourceful and tenacious as the Beautiful Queen by not being able to brew even a simple potion?”

The mob cowered back, shocked at their dorm head speaking that way to them.

“Doesn’t feel good to have yer flaws n’ failures spoken of, eh?” Epel yelled from a few miles back. He could see Schoenheit stiffen at the use of his distinct accent, but the farmer boy could care less in this moment… and so did Vil.

Rook stepped over with a friendly smile, placing a hand on the student's shoulder and on Vil’s. “Please rest the case, lest we want our hearts and faces wrinkle up from anger and stress.” The hunter squeezed the boy’s shoulder, applying pressure on one of the nerves to get the message across. In case that was not enough, narrow green eyes spared him a side glance full of ill-intent, “Any more comments like that, and your heart will be carved out of your rib cage and go in a jewelry chest to display as a trophy.” Was his message.

“Y-Yes, Rook-senpai!” The mob immediately answered and made their way out to somewhere else.

The actor rubbed the bridge of his nose at the scene, “I apologize on behalf of my dorm, those types of comments are absolutely not tolerated, but there seem to be more potatoes to wrangle than what I imagined.” He sighed, “But anyways! Let us continue with our original plans. [Name], Grim, Epel, follow me. We shall start with having you all take a nice bath and do proper skincare...and furcare, I suppose.”

“Oh, I would very much like some hypermosturizing serums and a bathbomb or oils to help destress, please!” The [hair color] said.

Vil chuckled a bit, “After that, you need all the lavender oils in the water.”

“Wait, does that mean…?!” Epel became unsettled and looked at Grim.

The monster finished the lilac haired boy’s thought, “We’re gonna end up smelling like a potpourri or somethin’?!”

Rook came behind them, pushing them lightly forward to walk in the other two’s direction. “Come now, moniseurs! Bath time is a great time to spend relaxing and planning your activities for the day!” 

The rowdy duo only groaned at his words.

Ignihyde

“Oh, [Name] [Surname]-san, that was an amazing play!” Ortho congratulated while spectating the game going on between you and his brother.

The girl chuckled, “Thanks, Ortho… Did that specifically to show your brother not to underestimate a magicless human’s abilities in games such as this.” Sizzling could be heard coming from the older Shroud as he silently fumed, but his flaming hair betrayed his silence.

“That’s right, get mad and lose your temper. It’ll be easier to defeat you like that… defeat you once more.” [Color] lips turned into a mocking smile. “Talk shit, get hit, bruh!”

Idia desperately played his following moves, a supposed combo to take you down considerably. “I don’t believe you’ll keep that smile in your face for long.”

She chuckled, ominously now, “Ohoho, I believe I will be keeping this smile… and victory with me~!” The 1st year kept laughing as she played her last strategy, leading to his defeat for the 6th? 10th? time today.

The dorm head took a deep breath before he could yell his frustration out, hair turning a shade of dull red, telling the other occupants of the room of his temper.

“How’s that for underestimating the skills of a human, Idia? Tired or eating your dirt yet or not? Told ya this would only lead to absolute defeat-!” Before [Surname] could boast some more, Idia stood up and dropped himself on his bed, back turned to them all.

The robot boy floated over to the enraged 3rd year. “Big brother? Your vitals are erratic, heartbeat is quick and body temperature is on the raise. Would you like some help relaxing?”

“I believe it’s better to let him be, Ortho.” The girl reassured. “Wanna play a game with me? See if you can beat me?” She suggested.

The android quickly cheered up, “I would love to!”

- Few minutes later -

[Color] eyes stared at victorious play.

5 times… It had only been 30 minutes and already 5 times… She was beaten by the younger Shroud 5 times already!

Ortho smiles at her (or at least she assumed, with him keeping his mouth coveron). “This is entertaining, [Name] [Surname]-san! Can we play one more time?” Those innocent yellow eyes looked up at her tired, irritated ones.

“I- uuuh… S-Sure, Ortho..!” A strained smile stretched her lips.

Idia sat down somewhere near, teasing pointy smile on his face now. “How does it feel, [Surname]?”

“Shut the hell up, Shroud, you’re no one to speak like that.” The girl whispered through gritted teeth.

Diasomia

Blah, blah, blah… chatter, chatter, chatter…Loud booming voice annoying everyone around.

“Alright, damn it all!” [Name] slammed her hand on the table. “For the love of all that's holy, shut the hell up, Sebek!!”

Everyone was stunned for a moment at the outburst, Silver jumped awake at the shouting.

Sebek looked at her with the most indignant look, “Excuse you?! That is something extremely rude to say! Even more so because you interrupted my conversation with the Young Master!”

“What do you even mean?! You interrupted my conversation with Malleus in an even more impolite way first!” She reminded her fellow 1st year.

Zigvolt scoffed, “Only because you don’t possibly have anything of interest to speak with Master Malleus.”

“Sebek I swear to god!”

“Silence, human! Stop pestering us!”

“You are the one doing the pestering here!”

And just like that, both students began bickering.

Silver looked at Lilia, “Don’t you think we should do something about this?”

The old fae sighed into his tea cup, placing it back down before taking a sip. “We absolutely must, Sebek’s voice was already inflicting a headache, now we have... that…” Red eyes looked at the brash underclassmen arguing.

Malleus, meanwhile, rubbed his temples at their antics.

“Children, stop it now or else-” Vanrouge noticed how his words were going unnoticed, so he decided to raise his voice some. “Children-” More shouting, silencing his call for attention.

“Children!” Lilia’s voice boomed around the room, along with the stomping of his heel on the stone floor. The surround sound effectively made the misbehaving students shut up.

“Thank you.” He said with a closed eyes smile, “Now, to settle your senseless screaming, why don’t we try asking Malleus himself what he believes happened, hm?” The bat suggested, turning to look into lime eyes to urge his master to speak up.

“Oh..! Hmm… Well… It is true Sebek interrupted the conversation I was having with the child of man,” [Name] looked at her friend with an I-told-you-so smile, “And I disagree with him, [Surname] was telling me very interesting things about her life and experiences in this Wonderland.” That made the girl stand even prouder.

“However,” The pistachio haired male looked at his superior with hope in his eyes, “I agree with his comment on how interrupting conversations the way [Surname] did is very rude.” Now it was his turn to boast a little. “But let’s not forget he interrupted us first, and therefore is rude himself.” Sebek deflated at that.

Lilia clapped his hands with a bright smile, “Problem solved! Now,” The fae looked at the tall 1st year, “Sebek, dear, [Name] is our guest today, treat her with respect. She is Malleus’ specially invited guest, let her spend her time occupying our leader’s time as she pleases. He invited her for that reason, after all.”

“U-Understood, Lilia-sama…” Zigvolt agreed against his will.

“Thank you, Lilia!” [Name] thanked at the same time Sebek spoke.

“Very well, let us enjoy our tea time in peace now.” Finally, the youthful soul sat down and picked up his cup to take a much needed sip of the amber liquid. “Young ones these days, I swear...”

NRC Staff

Shouting and yelling resounded around the meeting hall, leading Mozus to rub the bridge of his nose to try and ease the oncoming headache.

“Hello-!” Vargas was cut off.

“Not now, Professor Vargas, I need to knock some sense into this crow!” The 1st year yelled at the muscular P.E. teacher.

He sat down near Trein with a sigh, “They’re at it again this week?”

“Yes, they are…” The old man grunted.

“Been at it for 20 minutes now, can’t believe it.” Crewel tapped his finger on the wooden table in irritation, “Headmaster Crowley should already relent and give her more allowance if it means we can get our meetings done!”

“Absolutely not,” Trein disagreed, “[Surname] should learn to handle her finances better, budget things appropriately and spend the least on useless things.”

Crewel let out a single mocking laugh, “Really now? Have you heard what biweekly amount of money he gives her?! It’s not even enough to buy a steady supply of meals from the shop for a week!”

Soon enough, the two teachers joined their respective sides in the battle of Crowley vs. [Name], while Vargas watched with the most uncomfortable look.

And, after a good more minutes of shouting, the last call was given…

“You know what?! I’m done!!” The [color] haired girl made her way to the exit, “It’s always “Because I am so kind” blah blah blah! But you never do anything to help me!” She made a bad impression of the Director on purpose.

“It’s not only me in the dorm, it’s also Grim! And he’s a sizable cat, he needs to eat properly and plenty, too!” She turned around before leaving, “Seriously, Headmaster, I don’t know anymore how to scream at you that we need help! We’re sleeping on dirt every night, we’re breathing mold and dust everyday inside the rundown dorm! We need food and clothes and bedsheets and hygiene products!”

[Name] had to take a deep breath before saying her last words, “If you’re not going to help me search for a way back home, then… at least help me make that crumbling building feel like home…” With that, the heavy door shut close.

The young girl quickly made her way out of the building, trying her best to keep her emotions at bay and not let them overflow. Out of habit, or maybe it was her consciousness trying to search for comfort, her feet carried her to Mr.S’s Mystery Shop.

The simple ringing of the bell signaling a new customer already made her feel better.

“Welcome, little devil! What can I help you with today?” Sam greeted with his typical energy.

The [hair color] sighed in relief, making her way to the counter. “Hello, Sam.”

“Aaah, another fruitless fight with the Headmaster?” The shopkeep inquired, identifying that tired tone in her voice.

“Indeed…” She let head lay upon her crossed arms as the rest of her body leaned on the counter. “I ask myself why I even keep trying it, nothing will ever change…”

A shadow friend pat her head to try and comfort her.

“Because you’re perseverant and a fighter, and wish to have a school life as nice as the one your friends in established dorms live. It’s not an unjustified fight.” The mysterious clerk said, full confidence in his words.

“You believe so?” Curious [color] eyes looked at his moving figure.

“Of course! Everyone else has a nice room to sleep in, why shouldn’t you? Besides, the Headmaster decided to take you in, a responsibility he can’t ignore.” He placed a small mug in front of your head, “Go ahead, take a drink, it’ll help you in more ways than you can think of.”

Carefully unwinding from her position, a hand took the mug and brought it under her nose. One sniff and the girl could tell this was [fav. drink]. “Sam, I’m-! How did- How did you know this is my favorite?!” A pleasant surprise that brought a smile to her lips.

“You always buy it, guess you must really like it.” Magenta eyes watched as she took a sip, “Comfort food and drinks are perfect after an upsetting experience.”

[Name] threw him a tender smile, “Thank you, Sam. All you do for me and Grim is very appreciated… Don’t think I don’t notice those special discounts.”

All he did was wink at her as he turned to welcome a new customer.

Royal Sword Academy

Helping put up a stage was not an easy task. Could anyone really blame her for being so mad at everyone who got in her way after being overworked like that?

Who knows how many times she yelled at people to hurry up and move away from her path already.

And it just so happened a playful cat decided to scare the soul out of the 1st year at the worst moment, just as she was trying to take a short power nap.

“Found mew (pronounce it as m-you-w pls)!” A floating head and apparently dismembered arms appeared before [Name], hands falling on her shoulders.

She screamed bloody hell at the boy, “WHAT THE F-CK, CHE’NYA?!?!” A coughing fit followed due to the sudden loud yelp, “That was,” Cough, “My heart I just spat out!”

Meanwhile, the RSA student laughed his head off at the startled girl.

It irritated her, “And what do you think you’re doing laughing like that?! I could’ve tore a vocal cord or actually have a heart attack, you dumb cat!”

Oh… Never in his life had he been called that, at least not that he remembered.

They remained in silence for a while. 

Eventually, Alchemi giggled once more “Aha~, nice to see you’re mad too! Told nya it was the norm here~”

The [hair color] nodded in mock agreement, “Yeah, can finally see all of you are damn BONKERS!”

~°~  ~°~

This boy… what is his problem?! Suddenly approaching a stranger all smiles and good vibes? [Name] knew this was a twisted world, but this was plain creepy…

So, of course, the fight or flight instinct kicked off.

Yanking her hands out of his hold, [color] orbs sharpened to the meanest glare she could muster right then and there. “What do you think you’re doing? I am not a princess, and I definitely am not your princess! That’s way too creepy to tell someone you’ve just crossed eyes with.”

A multitude of gasps was heard. “Ah, that’s right, he has tiny friends with him…” [Name] could only inwardly sigh and groan.

Neige himself gasped too, what a rude person!

A little giggle was heard, “That’s exactly what I wanted to tell him.” Grant whispered, amused by the whole scene.

“Alright, okay, uh… Gotta go now. Pleasure, or not, to meet you. Goodbye.” The NRC student walked past the strange students. “And I thought there was nothing crazier than NRC… B O I   was I wrong…”

The dwarves looked at their stunned friend. 

Dominic tugged at his pant leg, “Neige, are you alright? Just let her be, I’m sure she reacted like that due to being cautious about strangers.”

“Yes, I’m fine…But,” Round chocolate eyes remained on her retreating form, “Nothing has ever stopped me from befriending even the grumpiest of people! Or has it, Grant?” The brunet smiled at his friend.

“I suppose not- Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?!” The redhead complained while the rest laughed merrily alongside LeBlanche.

-- -- --

THE MADWOMAN DID IT OMGGGGGGG MY EEEEEEYES ASDFGHIMKLF

HAPPY 1ST ANNIVERSARY!!! What other way than to celebrate with LOOONG request including most, if not all, of the Twst characters!!

LET US SHARE MANY MORE MEMORIES TOGETHER!! CHEERS TO US ALL!!!

(P.S. OMG if you see shifting between fem pronouns, they/them pronouns and "you" stuff... PLEASE FORGIVE ME!! My brain got a bit confused in a part! Hopefully I corrected it all)

𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 (𝓹𝓽. 2)

 character(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader 

a/n: ok so i just started writing on tumblr and honestly in my opinion for my first time posting smth on this the first part did really well thank u for all the likes :) (told from second pov; e.g you, your) reblogs are greatly appreciated :))

summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention. 

genre: a lil bit angsty 

warnings: cursing, jealousy, mutual pining, slow burn romance, aged-up to third year, love triangle (square?), physical injuries, kirishima gets a little toxic, also shirtless bakugou (awooga), a crap ton of time skips bc i can’t write action scenes for shit, bakugou is a flirt (lowkey but yeah), mentions of blood 

word count: 2112

pt 1 , pt 3

- - - 

kirishima had broken the skin on his lower lip with how hard he was biting it. he stood in the bathroom, rinsing his mouth, ignoring the slight sting the water brought. 

y/n was currently being blasted by bakugou, and they were fighting back. 

jealousy panged in his chest. 

bakugou had never let him know about how he felt about you, however kirishima was sure he felt something for them. you and bakugou were both a jumble of prideful and longing stares towards each other from across every room. the tension was thick enough to slice through. and while kirishima would never make a move in fear of ruining the friendship between him and bakugou, as well as him and y/n, gosh it didn’t stop him from wanting to. 

he’d stood on the side, cheering you on to no end. the sports festival last year, the year before that, training exercises, he was always there. kirishima was always there. 

whenever you needed him, whenever you wanted his company. so what did bakugou have over him? sure, the blond was strong and had bigger goals than kirishima, but why should that matter? 

what did bakugou have? why would you want him more when he was never near you? never made an effort to see you to be there when you asked for help. 

it was popular belief that bakugou was a noisy idiot, but he was actually quite a quiet boy. he didn’t bother to raise his hand in class, however he always knew the answer. he spoke rarely and only made conversation with those he was close with if they were the ones to make the effort to converse with him first. 

jealousy, jealousy, jealousy. kirishima despised it. 

whenever did he begin wanting to beat bakugou at something? 

the cloud of guilt welling up in his chest was going to become unbearable, and soon everything he ever wanted to say was going to come up like word vomit at the worst possible time. 

- 

you swiped at your cheek, brushing off the crumbling dirt. your timing had been off, and their flip backwards had landed you in an awkward position. a vulnerable one. 

honestly, though, it wasn’t like it really mattered. bakugou was a bit transparent himself. he wore a smug look like a golden medal, and held back his power just enough to keep you on your feet. 

his cocky attitude was irritating and it drew you in like a moth drawn to a lamp. 

sweat was beading down your temple. the day was exceptionally hot, the sun beaming down on your back like a proud child. 

you and bakugou had been at it for a while. with anyone else, you would have quit by now. it’s not that you gave up easily. no, not ever. but fights could get boring, especially if you were just smashing away at them with your quirk and they were acting like they could take it. 

perhaps you were being cocky. 

this fight, though. this was interesting. not only because it was bakugou; also because you knew so little about him. 

it was likely he never shared anything important to anyone. he was quite introverted. 

it was interesting for another reason. 

it was hot, bakugou sweats a lot. gosh, he looked delicious without a shirt on. he had a built figure accompanied by strong arms and a broad chest. 

he’d filled out quite nicely the past few years. you hadn’t noticed until now how much he’d grown. 

“don’t get distracted.” 

your eyes snapped up from his chest to his eyes. bakugou became a blur, shooting himself off the ground and flipping once in the air before propelling himself back down. 

before you could do anything, bakugou had you pinned, one leg pinning yours, both his hands wrapped around your wrists. he’d ditched his gauntlets, leaving the metal assistants in the sweltering heat, claiming he wanted to give you an equal fight. 

he panted atop you, hands tightening. 

tokage didn’t bother to leave her dorm today, thank goodness. it had just been the three of you. you, bakugou, and kirishima. 

the red head had suspiciously vanished halfway through the fight, though.

bakugou’s crimson eyes bored into yours. neither of you blinked for a moment. perhaps just a small eternity each of you silently reveled in. 

his erratic breaths slowed, and so did yours, although you stayed the same. unmoving, faces neutral but eyes giving away long-held secrets. 

your ears flushed, and butterflies came rising up uncontrollably. you should have pushed him off. instead you gave him a wicked grin, which earned a look from him and you couldn’t tell if he was confused or annoyed. 

“your big ass forehead is blocking the bright-as-hell sun. stay like this,” you mocked, wrenching your wrists from his grasp and snaking your arms around his neck. 

his cheeks burned red. “w-what?” 

“you heard me.” 

he scoffed, tugging you off his neck and standing. “shut up, shitface. we aren’t even done yet.” he readied himself in a fighting stance once more. 

“i thought you said you wanted to stop when you won?” you brushed yourself off as you stood. 

“i know what i said. you probably weren’t even giving it your all.” 

“’course i was.” you cocked your head. “why wouldn’t i?” 

“you’re strong, damn idiot.” 

you feigned surprise, pressed a hand to your fluttering chest. “the bakugou, dynamight himself, complimenting a humble soul like me? oh, i really must be good, then.” 

“not as good as me.” his face dropped from a smile. bakugou never got enough training no matter how early or late he stayed up, or how many hours on the weekends were spent kicking a bag or sparring with friends. hard workers did all of the work there was a still wondered if they were doing enough. the number one spot wasn’t empty, but it was still reserved for dynamight. 

- 

y/n had collapsed on their bed. kirishima was itching to tell them how he felt, however he was stuck at the doorway. 

they weren’t even dressed for bed, nor were they showered. 

he settled with leaving his friend alone, and shut the door softly to find bakugou standing right behind him. 

kirishima jumped back, closing his eyes in relief. “bakugou. what the heck man?” 

“you’re creepy as shit.” 

“i- what? you were the one staring at me while i-” 

“while you peeped in on y/n?” 

“i wasn’t peeping. i walked them back after the fight and they just collapsed. you were off doing something else and you worked them too hard.” 

it wasn’t a shock that bakugou was still riled up from the duel. this boy had the energy of a mad man. 

when bakugou didn’t say anything, kirishima said once again, “you overworked them.” 

bakugou swat away the comment. “only because they’re not working hard enough.” 

kirishima raised an eyebrow. “they work hard. they’re perfectly fine.” 

“fine?” 

“they’re amazing.”

“i know that, shitty hair. you think i’m blind?” 

“everyone can make improvements at their own pace.” kirishima’s voice dropped. 

“you train with me.” 

“it’s an hour before curfew.” 

bakugou jut a thumb in the direction of the door. “so? maybe you need some more practice, too,” he joked. 

“you’re an ass, bakugou,” kirishima released a breathy chuckle. 

the two wandered off to one of the training grounds. it was open, a wide court where they’d both kicked someone else’s ass. 

the sun was just setting, a new cool breeze coming to fill the spot of the violent sun rays. 

it was routine to fight each other out of nowhere. kirishima was usually quite playful, spewing jokes once in a while and taunting his friend. 

this fight was different. his face was stone-cold. kirishima often took the defensive role, as his quirk didn’t allow him to project any direct attacks to bakugou.

it wasn’t like kirishima was angry at bakugou, but as soon as they started charging towards one another, he couldn’t hold back. his chest tightened, arms hardening and joints becoming strong and stiff. 

with one clean sweep of his arm, bakugou was backing away from kirishima, propelling himself to the edge of the arena with a small blast. he’d always been up for a challenge. kirishima was willing to give him one. 

his sudden competitive demeanor seemed to be egging on bakugou’s. the blond tongued the inside of his cheek, grunting as he shot forth, hair flying wildly. 

swiftly, kirishima dodged, just barely missing a blast. his torso wasn’t hardened, so if he’d dodged any later, his stomach would have been scorched. 

bakugou always took their fights seriously. he knew better than to underestimate the boy who had put together his very own rescue mission. 

kirishima’s opponent stumbled from the momentum. he took his chance and brought a hardened elbow down on bakugou’s back, hearing a satisfying crack. 

bakugou was crushed to the ground with the hit. his face smashed into the sandy ground. he coughed, turning over and spitting dirt to the side. 

it took a moment for him to register what he did, but kirishima was at bakugou’s side within seconds. the sun was nearly gone, a pale blue sky flickering with the first sights of stars. 

it was hard to make it out at first, but not impossible. kirishima saw the blood dripping and smeared just above bakugou’s lip. he groaned, cupping his face in both hands as he sat upright. 

“argh” bakugou gasped. “shit, kirishima. what the hell?” 

“i...i’m sorry dude, i didn’t mean to.” i wanted to, but i didn’t mean to. 

bakugou raised an eyebrow and let a smile seep through his pain. “you’re improving, though.” 

“are you alright?” kirishima traced the small cut on his lip from earlier with the tip of his tongue. 

“i’m fine, i’m fine.” bakugou swatted his hand away. he struggled to get up, refusing kirishima’s help. 

“we should head back before this gets any worse.” 

bakugou kept his large hands hovering under his chin to catch the dripping and occasional chunks of blood.  

although he wanted the duel to continue (it was finally interesting) bakugou wasn’t stubborn enough to keep going. so he nodded, once again denying kirishima’s efforts to help him out. 

- 

you were in the common area, fiddling with a rubik’s cube. it was just you, as everyone else was spending the night among each other. ashido had invited you to her dorm a while ago, but you’d denied, wanting to spend a few more giddy moments to yourself. 

the door rattled, and in came your two friends, one with furrowed brows and the other with blood drenching the front of his shirt. 

bakugou’s head was tilted up in an attempt to stop the blood from flowing down. his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the blood trailing down the back of his throat. 

“oh my gosh,” you gasped out, racing to the bathroom. you came back with sanitary wipes in one hand and tissue in the other. “what happened?” 

“we were training,” kirishima started, taking a few tissues from the box and handing them to his friend, “and i accidentally hit him too hard.” 

“you didn’t hit me that hard. you barely did any damage!” bakugou objected. you approached him, and through his fingers, bakugou peered down at you. 

you asked him with your eyes, and he gave you silent permission to pry his arms away from his face. “are you okay?” 

“i’m just dandy,” he scoffed. 

“dude, i’m really sorry—” 

“shut the hell up kirishima. i don’t want your pity. i swear this is the only time i’ll surrender to you, you asswipe.”

you didn’t laugh, not even a chuckle. “bakugou, you need to see recovery girl.” 

“what the hell? no way. all she’s gonna do is give me one of those shitty slobbery kisses and scold me for being careless.” 

“your nose is broken,” you said gently. 

“so? can’t you fix it?” 

you raised a questioning brow. “you want me to help you?” 

“can you or can you not?” 

“i can try to set it but you’re better off going to recovery girl instead of settling with―” 

“all i need is possible. i don’t want to deal with that old lady’s shit right now.” using the tissues kirishima had stuffed into his hand, he caught the remaining blood dripping down his nose. “let’s go.” 

you were more than unsure. he would end up with a crooked nose if you made any small mistake, but he didn’t think twice as he grabbed your shoulder and led you in the direction of your dorm. 

- 

kirishima wished he hadn’t broken bakugou’s nose. not because he felt bad, though. 

title: a little more noise

pairing: kyōtani kentarō x gn!reader

synopsis: in a world of constant silence, he’s the noise you need in life, even if he’s a bit quiet.

warnings: fluff, angst, mutual pining, slowburn, strangers to friends to lovers, lotta tropes and cliches, two swear words if i counted correctly

word count: 4.8k+

a/n: i wrote this in two days which i’m very proud of, go me! always wanted to write a kyōken fic and here it is. kinda scared to post this bc he’s quite tough to characterize imo and i’m terrible at writing longer pieces. oh well :,) no indentation because that’d be such a pain. hope you like it, feedback is always appreciated! (this is also my first time writing slowburn so please lmk if it’s still too fast)

Your parents were not bad people—that was a fact. They were kind, and you did everything an ordinary family would; eat dinner together, go on trips, attend school events. Things were quiet, a little too quiet for comfort. It never felt… right. You heard stories of parents arguing, nasty divorces, and custody battles. They tore your friends apart, made them feel a pain you could never understand. You knew how terrible it was, yet sometimes you wished you went through that to fill the silence in your home. The same monotonous, “good mornings,” and “hellos,” became sickening to hear. You told yourself to push on until after graduation where you’d escape. As the years dragged on, you weren’t so sure you could keep your sanity intact.

It was how you met Kyōtani Kentarō, a second-year from your school who was in a different class. Your friend told you of a gym nearby that was secluded at night. With a sly grin, he said he met up with students from other schools to smoke, and sometimes as a hookup spot. You wrinkled your nose at his comment and flicked his forehead. These were the people you hung out with; not so bright, but easygoing and fun. They were the ones who satisfied the need for noise, the bit of excitement in your life.

You snuck out after your parents had gone to bed. It didn’t hit until halfway through your walk that several things could happen. You were alone with nothing to defend yourself with except your phone and bare hands. Looking down at your outfit, an old dark hoodie and some sweats, you hoped it was ominous enough to ward people away. Besides, the last thing you wanted was to go home and wallow in its emptiness.

To see the lights on in the gym was a surprise. Upon closer inspection, you heard the squeaking of shoes and the cannon-like sounds of balls slamming the floor. You peeked your head through the door. The only person inside was a boy, no older than you. The first thing you noticed was his oddly dyed hair which resembled a tennis ball. The second was his piercing gaze as he turned his head and stared at you. You jumped. He looked as though he was going to charge at you. Instead, the boy huffed, walked to the other side of the gym, and picked up the ball. You spotted a familiar white and blue jacket on the ground.

“Seijoh?”

The boy turned to you again. “Yeah.” His voice was low, but powerful enough to rumble the earth.

You swallowed. “I go there, too.” This was a waste of time, you thought. You should’ve gone home, and you almost did until he spoke again.

“Never seen you before.”

The ball flew into the air with the boy tailing it. His body bent in a way you didn’t think was possible, face pinched in concentration. It hit his hand then the ground with the loudest smacks you had ever heard. It was incredible, but also scary. He picked up another ball behind him and did the same, and again, and again, until his side was empty and yours was strewn with several blue and yellow volleyballs. The more you watched, the more mesmerized you became.

“Can I stay?” You felt stupid for asking, but if he was trying to concentrate, you didn’t want to disturb him. Surprisingly, he nodded. You sank to the floor with your knees to your chest and listened to the constant thwacks and smacks all night.

You only learned his name a little while after. It was by accident. You were walking by a group of boys at school when one of them called him Mad Dog-chan, and you bit your lip to stop your laughter. Luckily, they didn’t notice. It was kind of cute the more you thought about it. It fit his appearance quite well, too. That night, you found him at the gym once again. Instead of a curt nod, you waved.

“Hey, Mad Dog-chan!”

You immediately regretted your words when he stopped bouncing the ball and flashed you a murderous look. You muttered a hurried apology and sat on the floor in your usual spot. He whacked a ball a couple of times then came over to grab his water bottle. After a few quick gulps, you expected him to get back on the court, but he stared at the spot beside you.

“It’s Kyōtani. Kyōtani Kentarō.”

Some nights, he didn’t practice. You sat in a playground nearby with soda and snacks from home. Originally, they were meant to replenish his energy when he overworked himself. Now, you were the one eating most of them, with Kyōtani nibbling on a custard bun as you wolfed down chip bag after chip bag. One thing you could say with confidence was Kyōtani was a great listener. At first, you sat in awkward silence. Then, you started rattling off all the things you did that day. It led to you talking about anything and everything, including the funny-looking dog you saw on the street last week. You hoped he didn’t think he reminded you of it.

Talking to Kyōtani was equivalent to talking to a wall. If anything, you were talking at him. He barely looked your way, and if you asked a question, he responded with a grunt or a simple, “Yeah.” Even though you wished it was two-sided, it felt good. You could finally break the silence that shrouded you for years, something you yearned to do but never had the confidence to. With Kyōtani, because of how quiet he was, you felt you could say anything without judgment. You did this for a while, rambling to him in the playground while he sat and listened.

Together, you sat on the swings with fruit sandwiches you made earlier that day. Your feet dragged against the sand and dirt as you swung back and forth. It seemed like Kyōtani enjoyed it. You noticed him eyeing your sandwich while licking his lips. You laughed and handed the rest to him. You started your daily tangent; woke up, ate a meat bun for breakfast, went to school, did homework, then came here. Somewhere along the way, you mentioned how you were home alone since your parents had lots of meetings to attend. You wished it was a little more lively. It was why you left the house every night, to find some noise in the suffocating void of it all.

You talked some more about your family, which you never did. You were too distracted to see Kyōtani’s head perk up. He stopped munching on the fruit sandwich and leaned forward, trying to look at your face. You continued to ramble, feeling your irritation slowly rise.

“Am I a bad person? I mean, they’re really nice, and I adore them. But it’s unbearable sometimes, and then I end up feeling like an asshole.”

You let out a dry laugh, ignoring the pain of the metal chains holding up the swing as they dug into your palms. You pressed your lips together in a thin line, unsure of what to say next. You chose to draw circles in the sand with the tip of your shoe.

“I understand how you feel.”

You looked at Kyōtani in surprise. You waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. The night felt a little brighter.

The last thing your “friends” expected was for you to ditch them for him. “Looks like a tennis ball,” one of them said. You chuckled since it was your exact thought when you first met him. You were relieved but also disheartened when they didn’t seem to mind too much. At least you knew where they stood. 

Hanging out with Kyōtani was much different compared to your nights at the gym or the playground. You got lots of stares from the third-years who never thought he could behave like this. Some people in your class whispered about the two lone-wolves banding together. You pretended not to hear.

“You’ve been cheery lately.”

You stared at your mother, trying to process her words. They never asked about you, which you grew to appreciate. It meant not having to force out a conversation. You almost brushed it aside until she spoke again. Your chin rested in your palm as you picked the vegetables on your plate, stomach full with snacks.

“I met a new friend.”

Your mother raised her brows, impressed. “Oh? Tell me about him.”

“How do you know he’s a boy?”

“Just a hunch.”

You sighed, continuing to stir your food. “He’s quiet. A little weird, but he’s nice. I can talk to him about anything.”

“That’s good.”

Your father glanced at her, and she shot him a strange look. Don’t, it said. He backed off and ate as if nothing happened.

You managed to weave yourself with the other boys from the volleyball team. They were a scary bunch at first, most of them glaring at Kyōtani the moment he walked through the door, but they were nice to you. He had left his jacket at the playground one night, and you made a mental note to return it to him the next day. Except, like Kyōtani, you also forgot about it. When you saw the boys flood to the gym for practice, you raced home then back to school and shyly followed a group of girls to the gym who were there to gawk at the captain.

During their break, you nervously approached Kyōtani and poked his shoulder. They watched you return his jacket but didn’t expect his, “Thank you,” afterward. When you left, Oikawa bugged him to invite you back. Kyōtani shrugged. He usually ignored him at all costs. Oikawa took it as a good sign.

Hanging out with them was a lot more fun than you anticipated. They were better than your previous friends, and even though most of them didn’t like Kyōtani, they seemed to be warming up. Your favorite moment was the movie night at Oikawa’s house. The living room was packed, with little room to wiggle, but it was comfortable. That night, you laughed so hard your stomach hurt, and the tensions between you, Kyōtani, and the rest of the boys dissolved. You belonged here.

Yahaba caught him staring at you outside your classroom. You sat across from another classmate, helping her with a few assignments for her art class. You posed and let her take pictures. Some were silly, but the others captured your features perfectly. In one of them, you rested your cheek in your palm with the tip of your pencil wedged between your teeth. You looked at the camera through your lashes as your classmate continued to snap more shots.

“Cool it.” Yahaba clapped him on the shoulder.

“I’m not jealous.”

“Never said you were.”

You helped your classmate pack her things. While you followed her out the door, she twirled a lock of hair around her finger and fiddled with the hem of her skirt. You bid her goodbye as her friends called her over, then turned to Kyōtani and Yahaba. 

“Ready to go?”

Yahaba nodded, as did Kyōtani. You walked ahead of them, listing off that day’s menu. Behind you, Kyōtani’s eyes zeroed in on your moving form, the shift of your hips as you took each step. From an outsider’s perspective, it looked like he was honing in on a kill. Yahaba prodded his arm.

“Don’t be a pervert.”

You swore you heard a slap.

Friday after school, your parents were home from work much earlier than anticipated. A game show played on the television. They barely noticed your arrival until you called out. The TV turned off, and your mother looked over the back of the sofa with a wry smile. Your father drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa. His eyes stayed glued to the empty screen.

“Welcome back,” your mother greeted. She glanced at the boxes in the kitchen, filled with old plates and cutlery you hadn’t touched in a while. You assumed they were throwing them out.

“So…” she drawled. “What do you think of Tokyo?”

“Tokyo?”

Your hands shook as you set your school bag down on the kitchen table. The boxes made more sense. You remembered your father talking about a school his friend’s son attended. Nekoma, was it? He told you how great it was there, that it’d be easy to make friends in such a populated area.

“Tokyo…” you repeated. A heavy lump formed in your throat. “It seems… nice. Why do you ask?” You couldn’t stop the waver in your voice. Your mother caught on too.

“Dad’s company moved areas. It’s a big shift, but it’s too good to lose. So-”

“We’re moving.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you were about to.” 

Your head hung over the table. There was a crushing weight in your chest. Of course they wouldn’t tell you. They never did. It was too much to not expect this betrayal. If you told them how happy you were at Seijoh, maybe things would’ve been different. I could’ve prevented this. You shook your head. You couldn’t stop an entire company from moving, nor could you convince your father to find a new job in Miyagi. You had to follow them like you always did.

“If we can stay, we will, but most likely-”

“I’ll start packing.”

You grabbed your school bag and stomped to your room, vision obscured by your tears. Why now? Why did it have to be when you were starting to fit in, when you found real friends who made you happier than ever? Just when things looked like they were turning around, you were back at square one. You’d be there for a while, stuck in a new city far away from Seijoh. If you were with your old group, you wouldn’t have been this upset. But to not see them again—Yahaba, Hanamaki, even Oikawa.

You opened your phone and stared at the lock screen: a picture of you and Kentarō from the movie night at Oikawa’s. His arm was slung over your shoulder, a scowl on his face, but the peace sign he held up made it worth it. You remembered taking it and everyone gasping that Kentarō would even allow anyone to take a picture of him, let alone save it. Your heart fluttered. When did he stop being Kyōtani and become Kentarō?

Kentarō faced the empty playground. He sat in the right swing as he always did, scanning the area for any sign of you. In his hand was his attempt at a fruit sandwich, messily covered in cellophane with whipped cream oozing between the bread. A bandaid wrapped the tip of his finger where he accidentally cut himself. Damn those strawberries.

Kentarō kicked at the dirt. He waited, and waited some more, but after twenty minutes, you didn’t show. He pulled out his phone and sent you a quick text. Your absence made his skin crawl. His phone lit up with a response. Sorry, was all you said.

He couldn’t shake the heaviness as he trudged home.

The view outside the window gave you an excuse to be distracted. The voices of the boys were loud, but you chose to focus on the birds circling the courtyard. Two of them swooped down and landed on the thick branch of an old tree. They ruffled their feathers and nuzzled their beaks. You saw your old friends walk out of the main building. The one who introduced you to the gym glanced up. His eyes met yours momentarily. He went back to talking to someone you didn’t recognize and led them to the other side of the campus.

You stared out the window until Mattsun shook your shoulder. You turned and put on a faux smile. Your classwork was still strewn across your desk even though it was lunch. A few drops of chili sauce had landed on your math homework. You scowled at Hanamaki, his face stuffed with food.

“Oops.”

You wiped it off with an eye roll then stuffed it into your bag along with your other notebooks.

“What’s buggin’ ya?” Mattsun asked. 

You shrugged. “Nothing. I’m ready for the day to end.” It was the last thing you wanted. There was a bit of time before you left for Tokyo, but the countdown moved fast. You ignored Mattsun’s opposing look and ate. They couldn’t know yet.

Kentarō knew there was more than what met the eye, but he bit his tongue. He was paranoid, he told himself. The guilty look on your face as the boys laughed, unaware of the shift in attitude, said otherwise. He threw his arm over the back of your chair. You relaxed, but the sad look remained. Remembering the fruit sandwich he made, Kentarō grabbed it from his bag and slid it across your desk. You raised your brows.

“What’s this?”

“I made it.”

You unwrapped the sticky mess of whipped cream and strawberry jam. Kentarō watched you take a small bite, followed by a bigger one.

“This is delicious!”

He showed you the tip of his finger. “The price I paid for it.”

Your knees knocked against his under your desk. He flinched. You pressed your finger to your lips, then to the bandaid. “Thank you. Hope it feels better.”

Your cheeks swelled as you took more bites than you could chew. Pink syrup stuck to the corner of your mouth. Cute, Kentarō thought.

“What was that?” you mumbled. A crumb lodged itself in your throat. Mattsun rushed over and slapped you so hard on the back it echoed. A handful of other students looked over. Hanamaki scolded you for gulping down your bottle of water without taking any breaths. Kentarō cheeks turned a darker shade than the strawberries when you gripped his arm for support. You didn’t ask again.

“Cute,” he whispered anyway. He knew you wouldn’t hear over Mattsun’s teasing. “You’re cute.”

Kentarō invited you to the movies. He planned on having it at home, but his parents occupied the TV, and his laptop was too small to enjoy anything. He met you at a plaza a walking distance’s away. He let you pick the movie, curious about your tastes. Action? Romcom? When he looked at his ticket, it was for the latest horror movie. Critics raved about it, calling it the best of the decade. Impressive.

The movie started a while ago. The critics were right, it was scary, a lot scarier than he expected. You enjoyed it like a comedy movie, clapping your hand over your mouth when the entire theater shrieked at the killer, including Kentarō.

“You’re a sadist,” he whispered.

“Am not, just think it’s funny.”

He shook his head. Another jumpscare happened, this time worse than before. Several people jolted in their seats and bits of popcorn flew into the air. Kentarō didn’t realize he had sank into his seat—your seat, actually—until you nudged his foot with yours.

“Scared?” Your breath was warm against his ear.

“Sorry.”

You patted his hand which clutched the armrest with a vice grip. Kentarō’s heart beat faster.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I’m right here.”

The movie ended and the lights switched on. People left the theater with wobbly legs and pale faces. You headed to the exit holding your empty cups and popcorn bags with Kentarō in tow. He wished the movie was longer. Not because he enjoyed it, but because the smile on your face made it worth it.

Your room was bare besides your bed and desk. Most of your stuff was packed neatly in the many cardboard boxes piled inside your now empty closet. It’d been a few weeks since that Friday, and you still hadn’t told Kentarō or any of the boys. You weren’t sure how to break the news. He noticed how clingy you became, tailing him wherever he went at school. Not that he minded. You talked less at the playground. It was him who filled the silence instead, though his daily recaps weren’t as interesting as yours.

Next week was the last with Kentarō. In your shaky hands was an envelope, the edges indented from how hard you gripped it. You took out the letter inside, read it over, then slipped it back in. You thought about sealing it for the umpteenth time that day. Before your tongue swiped against the flap, you quickly scanned over the letter once more as if the words would disappear. You’d seal it later, you told yourself.

Your over-the-top cheeriness was so evident it was painful. They asked what was up, and you said you were simply having a good day. Kentarō knew better than that. At lunch, when you were away from everyone else, he prodded your shoulder and asked what was wrong. You frowned at him, then smiled.

“Everything's fine.”

Before he could probe further, you grabbed his wrist and led him to the cafeteria.

“There’s chicken! It’s your favorite, right?”

Something slipped out of your pocket. Kentarō thought it was your school notes. He bent down to pick it up and saw it was a white envelope, unsealed. You were already gone, dragged away by his teammates. He didn’t want to pry, but curiosity got the best of him. Turning the other direction, he grabbed the note inside. His name at the top caught his eye.

Dear Kyōken-chan,

He snorted.

Sorry for not telling you this sooner. I’m still trying to process this too.

A crease formed on his forehead as he squinted. The letter was quite long, the handwriting messy. He repeated the phrases in his head over and over, but he couldn’t fully understand what they meant. He flipped it to the back and sighed when there was more. He decided to scan it this time, except a handful of words made him reread it in depth.

“Kentarō!” In your arms were several wrapped buns from the cafeteria. He tried to stuff the note into his pocket, but you already saw.

“Oh.” The buns fell to the ground. “Oh no.”

Kentarō’s face was a mix of frustration and hurt. The hand holding the letter shook, the other balled in a fist. You wanted to run, but if you moved, you swore you’d collapse.

“(Y/N),” he murmured. “What is this?”

A weary laugh escaped your lips. “Um. Can we go somewhere else?”

Not waiting for an answer, you grabbed his wrist and led him to the school’s courtyard.

“One week,” he huffed.

“One week.”

You sat beneath a large, shady tree in the farthest corner away from the main building. Kentarō rubbed his temple and sighed. He held onto your letter. You fiddled with your fingers in your lap.

“For how long?”

“Probably forever. Not literally, but it’ll feel like it.”

“So you’re graduating from Nekoma?”

You nodded. Kentarō tapped his knuckles against his cheek.

“Wished you told me sooner.”

You blinked at him wearily. “You’re not mad?”

He shook his head then turned away. You grew quiet for a moment. He took it as his chance to butt in.

“So, you like me?”

“It’s all in the letter.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

You looked away. Your hands were clammy, and the air felt ten times hotter. The word you used was stronger, much stronger than he anticipated. It made his cheeks burn and a smile threatened to pull at his lips. He wanted to hear it come to life.

“I love you, Kentarō.”

It sounded sweet, almost tooth-rotting sweet. Kentarō chewed the inside of his cheek. He liked you, he really did. He just wasn’t sure if it was the right moment to say it. Would there be a right moment? After this week, you’d be in Tokyo in another school—a rival school, to make matters worse. He wanted his words to hold weight, and in that moment, they didn’t. Not as much as he wished.

“If you don’t feel the same, I understand.”

“I do.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the bell cut you off. Kentarō hoisted himself from the ground then held his hand out. His palm was rough under yours, but his touch was gentle. Once you got to your feet, you let go, but he kept his pinky locked with yours.

Friday arrived quickly. Sadness filled the air as you said your goodbyes, thanking your classmates and teachers for the short, but pleasant year. After school, the team led you to the gym with your eyes covered. The boys’ gym was decorated with a banner and a table with food. There was even a cake, the word Seijoh iced and crossed out on top. You let out a hearty laugh before inviting the boys to dig in.

“Of course,” said Oikawa. “I paid for it.”

On one side, Mattsun smeared frosting over Hanamaki’s cheek. On the other, Oikawa tried to spoon-feed Iwaizumi only to be smacked on the head. You sat on the floor next to Kentarō and looked around with a big smile. His thumb reached out to wipe a dollop of frosting from the corner of your mouth. The phrase, “Time flies when you’re having fun,” held up its end of the bargain. When you looked outside, the sun had begun to set.

You thanked your friends, took one last photo, and managed to hold in your tears until your walk home. You promised to visit and to cheer them on at nationals, even if you were on Nekoma’s side. They laughed, waved with sad smiles, then watched you leave.

Kentarō caught up with you a third of the way home. His hand slipped into yours, a habit he recently picked up. It wouldn’t last much longer. You stopped a few houses down from yours. You didn’t want to let go, not yet.

You learned many things this year. One, life wasn’t fair. It never was. Two, people weren’t as shitty as you thought, proven in your new friendships. Three, seeing Kentarō cry made your heart ache in a way you never wanted to feel again. His head fell against your shoulder with a hard thump, tears soaking through the uniform you’d wear for the last time. You rubbed his back and pressed your lips to the top of his head.

“Stay,” he pleaded.

“I wish I could.”

“Please don’t go.”

“I have to.”

Kentarō looked up through his watery lashes. Your lips connected. Who initiated it was a mystery. His kiss was slow but fervent. You leaned in, deepening it until you swore your teeth clashed. Kentarō’s hands rested on your hips, yours on the nape of his neck. His kisses were magnetizing, drawing you closer with each movement. You broke apart for air, foreheads pressed together. He still had tears in his eyes, and so did you. You stayed like that for a bit, wrapped in each other’s arms until you knew you had to let go.

“Call me everyday, please,” he whispered.

“I promise. I swear on my life.” 

You kissed him again. 

“Goodbye, Kentarō. I love you.”

“Goodbye, (Y/N). I’ll be waiting.”

“So will I.”

Kentarō didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. You knew he loved you, proven by his daily text messages and calls thereafter. Even if it only lasted a couple of seconds, you never missed a day. Sometimes, you heard his teammates' voices in the background. The audio would become crackly before a new voice replaced your boyfriend’s: Mattsun, Yahaba, Oikawa, and even Iwaizumi. 

Boyfriend. The fact made your stomach fill with butterflies. Kentarō was yours, and you were his.

It’d been months since you last saw him in person. You finished your second-year at Nekoma, a school that welcomed you with open arms. You met lots of people, found new friends, but the boys from Seijoh never left your mind. The picture you took hung on the wall of your new bedroom, a space you were still getting used to. Summer vacation was here, and you promised to come home to Miyagi for a week or two. On the train, you checked your phone to see how many kilometers were left. Just a few more minutes.

When it came to a halt, you burst from your seat, duffle bag in tow. You sent Kentarō a text, only to be face-to-face with him the moment the doors opened. You leapt into his arms, knocking him back a few steps. His chin rested on your shoulder as you hugged, swaying side to side.

“I missed you so much, Ken.”

“Missed you, too.”

Your fingers clasped around his, resting perfectly in the dips between his knuckles. Hopefully, he hadn’t dropped his habit. The months you were apart flew by, but they were also the longest you had ever witnessed. Seeing Kentarō for the first time in a while felt like a breath of cool, fresh air.

You tugged on his wrist, ready to head to town. He stayed put.

“What is it?”

“I love you.”

He grinned shyly at you. Kentarō brought color into your dull life, your source of noise in the thick silence. The summer wouldn’t forever, and you had another year left to endure. But as long as he was there, even kilometers away, you’d get through it together.

omg your aneurysm ask gave me life i love seeing fushimi suffer and people being all fussy over him uwu so let's say he's recovering from the aneurysm, still very weak and frustrated he's being useless bc he can't work (he doesn't care he almost died tbh), and munakata and yata start fighting over who's gonna take care of him and the doctor gets fed up and seri ends up being the one in charge of him *w*

Awashima just stepping in between Yata and Munakata like okay if you two can't agree I'm taking over XD So imagine Fushimi's recovering from an aneurysm, he's still weak in the aftermath and he's supposed to take things very easy until he gets his strength back. This being the case someone needs to keep an eye on him as much as possible, Fushimi being so frustrated with his situation that he keeps trying to sneak out of bed even though he can barely walk and he could easily hurt himself worse if he doesn't follow the doctor's orders. Naturally Munakata is more than happy to become Fushimi's nurse for the time being, he can do his work while watching Fushimi-kun and they can have some time alone.

He's already planning out the proper recovery schedule for Fushimi when Yata shows up at Scepter 4 headquarters, wanting to check on Saruhiko. He figures someone will need to watch Fushimi while he recovers and Yata doesn't have a lot of stuff to do so maybe he could help, and get a little time to actually talk with Saruhiko and start to understand him more and all that. Munakata understands Yata's reasoning and while he finds it admirable that Yata would make such an offer there is no need for it, as Munakata will be handling Fushimi's care going forward. Yata's all suspicious like don't you have a job, you guys worked Saruhiko so much he got sick someone else needs to watch him. Munakata doubts Yata has the ability to properly deal with Fushimi's situation and Yata's like oh yeah well you can deal with my fists King or no King I don't trust you guys to watch Saruhiko anymore.

The two of them are arguing back and forth (well mostly Yata loudly arguing and Munakata being somewhat condescending towards him in a way that's pissing Yata off even more) when Awashima shows up wondering what all the noise is, this is a workplace. Munakata adjusts his glasses and apologizes, he was about to go see Fushimi-kun. Awashima coldly notes that he has work to do and should be focused on that, Munakata wilts slightly as Yata grins like yeah go do your work asshole. Awashima's immediately like 'Homra's Yata Misaki' and Yata gulps, feeling oddly like his mom just called him by his full name. Awashima says they appreciate his willingness to help, however his presence here is too disruptive and she cannot allow him to do more than visit. Yata manages to stammer out 'what about Saruhiko though...?' and Awashima assures him that Fushimi-kun's well being will be taken care of.

Some time later cue Awashima walking into Fushimi's room with some soup and blankets as she says she's come to watch him for the day. Fushimi clicks his tongue and wonders how she ended up with this, he almost expected Munakata to show up. Awashima coolly notes that there was some fuss over who would be watching him, smiling gently as she reminds him that many people are interested in his well being and supporting his recovery. Fushimi's like 'is that so...', looking a bit gloomy, and Awashima puts a hand on his shoulder as she tells him to take it easy so he can get his strength back. She leaves the soup there for him now and says she'll be back shortly to be sure he's eaten it and also if he tries to get up again she will tie him to the bed, Fushimi manages a 'yes, ma'am' as he realizes that Munakata or Yata might have been the better option after all.

pairing: min yoonji x reader / word count: 9.7k / genre: f x f smut, assassin!au

summary: a fic inspired by this post and that’s pretty much it-

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), talk about death/assassination (nothing graphic dw! but they are assassins, so), mild violence, unnecessarily sexually charged lipstick application, face riding, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral (f giving/receiving), use of restraints, overstimulation, squirting, kind of dom!yoonji?

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic I wrote as a gift to myself for my bday, it’s a lil rushed bc I wanted it done for today! women are so very beautiful and I am so very weak, thank you ladies for all being so amazing ily. this was meant to be a short pwp and now it’s almost 10k but I have no regrets bye

--

la petite mort French literal meaning: ‘the little death’; also an expression used to refer to the brief loss or weakening of consciousness, specifically the sensation of orgasm as likened to death; an orgasm.

--

“It’s just unacceptable.”

The woman in front of you is clearly wealthy. Her dark hair is perfectly styled and her pale nails are perfectly shaped and her subtle makeup is perfectly flattering; she’s starting to get older but rather than shy away from it, she’s leaning into it, and she looks almost imperious in her beauty, eyes sharp and set of her lips severe. Park Dahye was born into wealth and has clearly thrived in the life that she’s been afforded.

“Mmhm.” You try not to yawn. 

“He’s flitting around with some young, silly thing on his arm, with no consideration for the family’s reputation— my reputation,” she continues. Her posture is perfect, from the set of her spine to her crossed legs to her folded hands that rest on her knee, somehow demure and yet highlighting all of her beauty and riches; the jewellery on her wrists and fingers, the expensive heels on her feet, the slit of her haute-couture dress, no doubt tailored for her and her alone. “I’ve already spoken to him about his behaviour, but he’s just ignored my warnings. We may have agreed on the divorce but we’re currently still husband and wife— has he no shame?”

“Awful.” You don’t even try to hide how bored you are, but Dahye is so quietly incensed that she doesn’t even notice as she launches into the next part of her queenly diatribe, and you muffle a sigh.

That’s the problem with rich clients. Sure, they’re willing to fork over stupid amounts of money to you, but they also think that their issues are of paramount significance— like they’re the centre of the universe and their problems are the only important ones in the world. Like you’re interested in what they have to say. Like this is the only job you’ll ever do that holds real weight or meaning.

For them, it’s a life-changing (life-ending) decision. 

For you? It’s another Tuesday.

“Yes, yes, that’s just so terrible, gosh, I don’t know how you manage it,” you say once she pauses to take a breath, using the opportunity to cut her off before she launches into another part of her articulate rant. “Anyway. Would you prefer if his death was embarrassing or quiet?”

For the first time since you’ve met, she seems unsettled. “Pardon?”

Namjoon is much better with people than you, smooth and charming with his boyish dimples. Normally any discussions would go through your handler, but this woman had demanded to meet you personally and had been willing to pay for the privilege: so here you are, with your relative bluntness instead of Joon’s winsome smile.

“You know,” you say, gesturing with your hands. “When they find the body. Do you want him to be caught with his trousers around his ankles—literally or figuratively, that’s up to you— or would you rather it seemed like something natural and unpredictable? Like a sudden heart attack in his sleep, for example.”

When it comes to rich clients, a lot of it is about reputation. When someone’s shuffled off this mortal coil, it’s not just that they’re removed from the equation, it’s also about the ripples that their death leaves in the high society that they’ve lived in. Does she want her (soon-to-be) ex-husband made a mockery of, or does she just want him out of the picture?

She can’t see your face, behind your mask as it is, but you can see hers in perfect clarity. For all that Dahye seems put together and almost impassive, you see the tiny flicker in her eyes. Ah. She’s not just mad because he’s ruining their reputation. She’s hurt.

Man, that sucks. Honestly you bet it’s easier being an assassin than a rich housewife. At least when it comes to backstabbing you can literally involve a knife to sort your problems out. (Well, knives are messy, but you get the picture.)

“I’d prefer something quiet,” she decides. “I’d worry that it could lead back to me, otherwise.”

You’d be offended at the idea that you’d leave any trace that could implicate anyone or that this man’s sudden death was in any way suspicious, but she’s paying you enough that you find that you don’t care. You take pride in your work, but for the amount of zeroes involved in the fee you’re being paid, you think you can take an unintentional insult or two. Or three. Or ten.

You like money, what can you say.

“Sure thing,” you say, giving her a lazy, two fingered salute. You’ve been reclining against the desk of the hotel suite, flicking the complimentary, heavy metal pen between your fingers, twirling it like the world’s most underwhelming baton. You straighten up and let the pen drop back into the pen pot—wait, no, of course it’s a handmade porcelain jar, an alarmingly well-made Joseon porcelain replica. Everything in here stinks of money. “RM will confirm where the money is to be deposited. Half of it now as collateral, and half upon completion of the job,” you say. “If you change your mind between now and then, we’ll be keeping the original 50%, but if for some reason something goes awry, you’ll receive that money back. Sound good?”

She seems surprised at your directness. “I—”

“Fabulous!” You clap your hands together, although the sound is muffled by your gloves. You’re not about to leave your fingerprints everywhere, geez. “Alright, time for me to skidaddle I suppose! I’ve got work to be doing, people to be watching, men to be killing!”

Dahye flinches imperceptibly, but by this point you’ve already slipped out onto the balcony and into the night.

--

Being an assassin is hard work.

Technically, everyone has the capacity to kill another human being. But killing as a job involves a lot more than just caving someone’s head in with a rock—that’s why Cain isn’t referred to as an assassin, what with how he’d just bashed his brother Abel with a convenient stone that happened to be lying nearby. He was just a straight up dick.

No, when you kill professionally you need to be familiar with an array of different techniques, each one far more sophisticated than the last. You need to know how to be stealthy, how to blend in as you watch your target, how to set up the scenes of their death in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion. Or, instead, how to set the scene up in a way that lets any onlookers know that this person had been offed by someone who knew what they were doing, and knew it well. There's a difference between being a killer and being an assassin and you are firmly in the latter category.

So, if your client wants her husband to be shuffled off quietly, then that’s what she’ll get.

They really have pulled out all the stops for this charity gala. Everything is shining, glittering and bright: the surroundings, the food, the people. Especially the people. The rich elite have come together for an extravagant and exquisite night of ostentation and luxury, all in the name of raising money for some needy cause. (You try not to think of the irony and/or hypocrisy behind that.)

It’s almost laughable how easy it is to blend in here. Namjoon had secured (forged) invitations for you both, and so you hang off his arm as you make a slow sweep of the room, trailing unnoticed after your target. You’re not planning to make a move right now but you want to feel out exactly what he’s like: the more information you have about the person you’ve been contracted to assassinate, the better. 

Plus it’s an excuse to dress up nice and eat free food— though that last part is mainly Namjoon.

“God, these canapés are so good,” Namjoon moans quietly to you, hoovering up the flaky pastry crumbs from his fingers with single-minded intent. You dig your fingers subtly into his arm.

“I thought we agreed on not eating tonight, Joon,” you mutter to him, although you say it with a beatific smile in case anyone is watching; the place is heaving with people but you’re always on guard. (Even if Namjoon is right. The hors d’oeuvres that are on offer do look incredibly tempting.)

“You have a glass of champagne,” he points out.

“And you may have noticed that I haven’t drunk any of it.” You titter, as if he’s just told a funny joke, and lightly slap his arm. Again, you’re fairly certain no one is watching, but you can never be too careful. “It’s all about creating a facade, Joonie. It’s what we in the business call a ruse.”

Even throughout your back and forth, you’ve kept your eyes on your man of the night: Park Minjae, a middle-aged businessman who’s been greeting people and getting swept up in conversation, all while a slip of a blonde clings to his arm, stuck to his side like a pretty limpet. She’s cute, sure, but she lacks the poise that Dahye has, so you frankly don’t get it. Then again, not everyone finds strong women as attractive as you do. Weirdos.

You’ve been focused on Minjae but your eyes have also been flitting around the room, drinking in your surroundings, drawing up a detailed map of your environment (of course you’d scoped out the building before tonight, but with all the banquet tables and chairs around the layout is a little different). The people, too, have been subject to your scrutiny, although so far they all seem summarily unimportant and uninteresting, just as you’d suspected. You lift your glass to your lips and pretend to take a tiny, demure sip, glancing up through your eyelashes to scan the room again, and you freeze.

Holy shit.

You take back what you just said about everyone being unimportant and uninteresting. 

The woman who’s just walked in is fucking stunning. Her sleek dark bob is unstyled, but perfectly frames her beautiful face: sharp eyes, soft nose, flushed lips. Her cocktail dress lets you see almost every inch of those perfect legs, the line of her thighs to her calves and— oh, you swear you could shed a tear of joy. She’s already tall and she’s made even taller by the heels she wears, towering above most of the men here, a fucking Amazonian goddess who looks powerful and undeniably elegant at the same time. 

(Thank you for your service, tall women.)

You don’t know who she is, but goddamn, do you want to. She’s scanning the room, and for a brief moment, your eyes touch. A tiny thrill shudders up your spine at the darkness of her keen eyes, that quick and astute gaze. 

It’s only the tiniest of moments that’s over as soon as it’s started. The dark-haired beauty looks away and is already disappearing into the crowd before you realise, and it’s only then you notice that you’re staring, utterly drawn in by her cool poise and presence. You’ve been frozen in place with the rim of your champagne  glass resting against your mouth, and your eyelashes flutter as you blink and glance down.

The imprint of your lower lip has been left on the glass, stark red visible against its edge, and you squeeze Namjoon’s bicep.

“How does my lipstick look?”

He takes one look at you as he swallows down another tiny vol-au-vent. “Like half of it is missing,” he says, and you frown.

“Ugh. I’ll go touch it up in the bathroom. Keep an eye on our guy, I’ll be right back.”

It’s not until you’ve made it to the toilets that you realise that you do not, in fact, have any lipstick in your ridiculously small clutch bag. When it comes to your actual work, you’re meticulous and thorough and well-planned, but for some bizarre reason, a tube of lipstick is never the top of the list when it comes to equipment. Unbelievable. (You knew you should have worn the 24/7 stuff, but it was always such a nightmare to get off.)

You’ve been so busy rummaging through your bag that you’re completely caught off-guard at the sound of a quiet voice from behind you.

“Lost something?”

Oh, fuck. It’s her, your dark haired and dark eyed beauty, meeting your gaze through the mirror when you glance up from where you’re resting your bag against the marble counter  (marble, marble, marble, it’s all marble: the floors, the counters, the sinks; why do rich people always love marble?). She looks altogether too amused at your plight and at how your eyes have widened perceptibly upon seeing her again. But can she blame you? Her presence is so graceful and commanding and she’s so dizzyingly attractive it’s insane. Surely she must get this all the time.

You stare for a little longer than is probably polite, and even behind her fringe you can see how one of her eyebrows rises.

“Sorry for staring,” you say once you notice. “You’re just so beautiful.”

She pauses as she takes in the compliment. You see how her eyes flicker over your face and settle on your mouth; your upper lip, tinted burgundy red, while the lower is faint and smudged.

“Lipstick problems?” She cocks her head at you, still staring at your lips in the mirror. God, she’s so hot.

“Can you tell?” You sound rueful as you glance down at the reflection of your mouth, touching your bottom lip lightly with a fingertip. “I forgot to bring any with me so now I’m stuck.”

She finally looks away from you. You hear a small, metallic click as she unclasps her evening bag— marginally larger than your own— and lifts out a small tube of liquid lipstick. “Would you like to use mine?”

Fuck yes you would. 

“Oh, would that be alright?” You finally turn around, and you have to tilt your head back to look at her, taller than you in her heels. Jesus Christ. She’s going to be the death of you. Why are women so gorgeous? Who gave them the right? “I’m not sure the shade will match, though?”

You watch her beautiful mouth curve up into a small smirk as she pulls out a tiny pack of makeup remover wipes from her bag, and you swear could propose to her there and then. Beautiful and tall and organised? Holy shit. What a woman.

She’s got her bag in one hand, while the lipstick and wipes are clasped in the other; her hand is held up in such a way that you think she means for you to take them from her, but when you reach out she shakes her head.

“I’ll do it for you,” she says. The quiet note of authority in her tone makes you go weak at the knees.

Thank god the toilets you chose aren’t the main ones, because it means there’s no one around to see how she tilts her head at the marble counter in the universal gesture of get on there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but you, of course, immediately comply. You brace your hands against the cold stone before hitching yourself up, careful with the draping folds of your dress; the cold touch of the stone is noticeable through the material of your dress, but it’s instantly forgotten when your enchantress steps closer. 

You spread your knees so she can stand between them. Holy shit, she’s even better up close. Her lashes are wispy but they’re the perfect frame for her gorgeous eyes, which are dark and intent. You suppress a shiver. You hold yourself still as she leans forward and around you so she can put her clutch and lipstick down, trying to ignore how close she is, but there’s no way she can’t realise what she’s doing. Your heart is pounding. You wish you didn’t have a job to do tonight because you would so much rather be getting, ah, acquainted with this woman rather than following some old businessman around.

The only noise in the bathroom is the sound of peeling plastic as she opens the tiny packet of wet wipes before she curls one around her finger, glancing at you through her lashes.

“Open,” she instructs.

Your mouth drops open immediately. She sweeps the wipe over your lips, bottom, then top, touch firm but careful, drawing away the red from your skin; you stare at her as she works, how her eyes are cast down as she stares at your mouth. She’s using her free hand to grip your chin and you feel deliciously powerless in her grasp. 

You purse your lips a little to try and help her, watching the way her eyes flicker as she pulls the wipe back over them— somewhat firmer, this time, with more intent. Lingering. The only barrier between her finger and your mouth is soft and flimsy, the texture of the wipe against your lips like cotton as it drags across them, and it would be so easy to pull it out of her hands.

She flicks the dirtied wipe aside, heedless of how it lands on the unsullied marble, before reaching for her lipstick. She twists the tube in her fingers, motions of her hands precise and deft, and you’ve never been so attracted to how someone’s uncapped something before. 

You watch her hands. (She watches you.)

Your eyes trail over the wand as she pulls it out, dragging the doe foot against the rim to catch the excess before turning it towards you, putting the tube by your thigh, near where your hand is bracing against the marble. She takes hold of your chin once again. You stay quiet as she starts to sweep the lipstick over your lips, painting them the same flushed pink as her own. Once again she’s staring at her work so you’re free to drink her in, almost drunk from her beauty, eyes catching on the tiny moles on her pale skin, the smallest freckles that are only noticeable because you’re this close.

The squelch of the applicator sliding into the tube is almost lewd in the silence of the bathroom, and this time you can’t suppress a shiver when she pulls your chin down to open your mouth so she can go back in again on your lips, drawing a sharp, crisp line. Tracing the edges of your lips, the flushed swell of them, the peak of your cupid’s bow.

She glances up. For a moment you’re both still, staring at each other, tension in the air palpable, but then she smacks her lips and you copy the motion, evening the application of the makeup on your mouth. 

“Perfect,” she murmurs. “One more step.”

A small, confused frown flits over your face. She’s put the lipstick aside but then she lifts a finger and points towards your still parted lips. You take in a small, shuddering breath when she speaks again and you realise what she means.

“You don’t want to get lipstick on your teeth, do you?”

Both of her eyebrows have risen and she’s looking at you like you’re being silly if you disagree with her.

“No,” you say. You’re not about to deny her. “No, I don’t.”

Your eyes remain locked. You lean forwards, taking that perfect, long finger into your mouth, dragging your lips upwards so that any excess lipstick is caught against her pale skin, a ring of deep rose circling her bottom knuckle; you curl your tongue around her, hot and wet, feeling the crease of her knuckles and pad of her fingertip against your taste buds as you slowly, slowly pull away. 

It’s undoubtedly indecent and risqué and you can feel the flush of arousal settling in your lower belly, an almost embarrassing flush of wetness leaking out of you at the taste of her skin. She, however, remains unmoved, although she lets her finger linger just for a moment on your bottom lip, almost rough against their softness— but before you can swallow those fingers back down and ruin her meticulous work, she pulls away, lifting the discarded wipe to sweep it around her finger, catching the lipstick you’d left on her skin.

“Done.”

She steps back and you feel like you can finally breathe, a breath so deep you can feel how your lungs fill, oxygen rushing to your brain so fast you feel lightheaded. You watch as she sweeps everything back into her bag, clicking it shut with a note of finality; the sullied wipe is cast carelessly into a tiny, chrome bin with a flick of a wrist, her every motion regal.

You slide off the counter. You still can’t take your eyes off her and you don’t want to. It feels like whatever heaviness was in the air has dissipated, gone in an instant with a turn of her head— normally you’d let it slide, even if you feel disappointed, but she’s just so magnetic. 

“Thank you,” you say. You can see yourself in the mirror now and to your complete lack of surprise, your lipstick is perfect. The shade is lighter than one you’d have chosen for yourself but it’s beautiful on her, of course.

“You’re welcome.” She’s in the middle of washing her hands, but she glances over her shoulder at you, and the firm set to her face lightens a little as she smiles. It’s a small, sly thing, and you realise with a start that she knows exactly what effect she has on you.

I’m coming back for you, you think to yourself. You have work to do tonight, but—

“What’s your name?”

She pauses. She shuts off the tap with a quick motion, reaching forward for a rolled hand-towel, a neat stack on a metal tray nearby. You wonder if she’s not going to answer but then she speaks, looking at you instead of the soft cotton she’s rubbing over her skin. “Yoonji,” she says. “I’m Min Yoonji.”

Min Yoonji is the most gorgeous fucking woman you’ve ever seen.

“I love your dress, Yoonji,” you say, and it’s true, you really do— but you’d prefer it if it was off. Not that you’re about to say that, of course.

She lets out a breath of laughter. “I know.” Oh, god, you love confident women. “What’s your name, darling?”

You have that same split second of hesitation, similar to Yoonji’s only moments prior. You use a codename when you work, of course, and you have a plethora of fake identities that you use and are intimately familiar with— but the idea of your real name falling off Yoonji’s flushed, petal lips? Woof.

“Y/n L/n,” you say. 

Oh, Joon would be so unimpressed right now, giving some mysterious woman your full, real name just because you think she’s the sexiest thing since sex, but whatever. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Well, Y/n,” Yoonji says. You were right, your name sounds so good falling from her mouth, the mouth that’s turned into a small, almost smug smile. “I certainly hope to see you at the charity ball in a few weeks?”

“Of course.” Your schedule has been magically cleared and you’ll definitely be in attendance for whatever ball Yoonji is referring to, even if you have no idea what it is. You only come to these things if you have to for work but for Yoonji you’ll make an exception. You’ll make a hundred thousand exceptions. A hundred thousand quinquagintaquadringentillion exceptions. “I’ll make sure to remember my lipstick next time.”

And there it is, the thing that seals the deal, the final nail in the coffin: Yoonji glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, a sharp, dark touch that shoots through you as her smile edges into hunger.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m sure it won’t stay on your lips long enough to matter.”

--

The thing you’ve discovered about Minjae is that, with his divorce due to be finalised soon, he’s apparently lost any sense of routine and is revelling in his new found freedom, which is kind of irritating when you’re trying to tail the guy. Sure, you’re still going to take him out, but you prefer it when targets have some sort of schedule that they adhere to— makes it easier to set up a kill.

“You’re certain that he’s going to be here tonight?” You’d been sceptical considering how the guy’s apparently thrown his schedule out of the window, but Namjoon had been certain.

“Positive.” He’d said. “He’s there every Tuesday night. You’ll have plenty of time.”

The house appears to be deserted. The driveway is empty and all the windows and doors are locked tight. It’s just one of the properties that the Parks own in the city, and for all its size and lushness it appears as though this one is rarely frequented; you imagine that the cleaners and gardeners spend more time here than the owners themselves.

It doesn’t take you long to evade the watchful eyes of security cameras to pick a lock and slip inside. You're grateful for the dying evening light that helps cover your tracks from any onlookers from the street, although you imagine the high walls do good work at preventing people from seeing into the grounds anyway.

There’s still enough light to navigate through the house, the golden tinged sunset casting warm shadows across the spotless furniture and fixtures; you take a moment to let your eyes slide across a huge canvas hanging on a wall that spans two storeys, some impressionist piece that’s surprisingly ugly for all the talent that’s obvious in its brushstrokes. Maybe that’s why the Parks are never here? You’d certainly try to avoid seeing this thing if you could. Eurgh.

Even though the building is empty, you’re careful as you start to make your way forwards. You always place your toes down first whenever you take a step, soundless as you start to map the house out in your mind; there are so many rooms you can hide in, but you’d prefer to be close to wherever Minjae ends up. Saves faffing around later. 

You’ll overpower him, inject the toxin into his blood and wait for him to die before setting him up on the toilet— it’s surprisingly common for people to die while on the shitter, the strain leading to an untimely heart attack, especially in older people. The poison you’re using tonight will mimic the symptoms of a heart attack in the case the coroner decides a post-mortem needs to be undertaken.

(Being found on the bog might not be a particularly graceful way to die but when you’re dead it’s kind of hard to be embarrassed.)

You’ve eased the door open into a large bedroom, and you’re just inspecting if it looks like this room sees more use than the others when you pause. It’s deathly silent in this building, the air still minus where you glide through it as you move, but there’s a feeling in your gut, some instinct that makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You freeze, ears straining to catch any noise to let you know if there’s someone else here, when—

There. In the reflection of a burnished pot, the tiniest shifting movement.

You react almost faster than the eye can see. You spin to parry a hit that was aimed for your head, and the strength behind it shudders through your arms. You only have a second to take in the details of your assailant— dressed in dark clothing, masquerade style mask in place, a professional just like you— before you’re deflecting another flurry of blows, flipping backwards out of reach before spinning into a kick, hooking that burnished pot with your foot and sending it flying towards the other assassin.

They dodge it. You both ignore the sound of clattering metal as you lunge forwards, trying to catch them off guard after their sidestep— your fist makes contact with their palm instead of their face, your hand engulfed in theirs, and you startle at their speed. You might not be the strongest but you’re damn fast. 

There’s a pause, and you can only see a slither of their eyes through the sockets of their mask, but you can tell that they’re impressed. And honestly? So are you. 

The moment shatters when they use the hand they're holding to twist you, locking an arm around your neck and putting you into a chokehold; they’re strong, stronger than you, cutting off your airflow. You need to get out of this before you fall unconscious, but if they’re trained as well as you then they’ll know how to combat the usual ways you’d use to get out of this.

So, in a demonstration of your flexibility you kick a leg up, using the strength of your thighs and calves to slam it into the arm that’s around your neck. Your assailant lets out a noise of surprise and pain as you slip out of their hold and cartwheel across the room before spinning to face them.

There’s a beat. The air is tense. You get another chance to take in the details of whoever’s just tried to choke you out; you stare at her as she stares at you, the two of you poised and ready to strike, watching and waiting. 

Knives might be messy but of course you’re not unarmed. You have multiple sheathed weapons in your clothes, though you don’t make a move to draw any of them. Yet. “I suppose you wouldn’t tell me who your employer is, would you?”

Your opponent tilts her head. “You don’t know?” She sounds amused, even through her mask. “Minjae took out a contract on the assassin who has a contract on him.”

Your lip curls back from your teeth. The only way Minjae would have heard about your contract is if Dahye had told him. Presumably to try and shock him out of his behaviour, or something, who knows. “This is the last time I’m accepting a job from these rich old farts,” you mutter. 

“That’s for certain,” she says. 

She starts to move and you catch her arm just as she goes to unsheathe a wicked looking blade, knocking it aside before she overpowers you and you start to wrestle. It’s messy and graceless but sometimes you just have to fight dirty. 

Whoever this woman is, she still has the upper hand because she was expecting you and you weren’t expecting her; she knocks you onto the bed and pins you down, swooping the knife up from where it had been thrown onto the mattress. You go utterly still as she holds it against your throat, towering over your from where she’s straddling your waist and kneeling on your arms. Any sudden movement from you now could lead to your untimely demise— and, unsurprisingly, you absolutely want to avoid that at all costs.

Namjoon would never let you live it down if you were killed on the job.

You hum. “It seems like we’ve reached an impasse.”

She doesn’t respond. The knife doesn’t dip any lower, though; you’re undoubtedly at her mercy but you notice she’s careful to keep the knife still, hovering above the skin of your neck, but not making contact.

“Well,” you continue. “At least I’m going out the way I’d always hoped to.”

Even in the dying light and with how her face is covered, you notice her face shifting behind her mask— a silent, questioning raise of an eyebrow. You give her a cheeky smile that crinkles your eyes.

“In bed with a beautiful woman, of course.”

At this she huffs out a laugh. “Do you flirt with every person who tries to kill you?”

You’re trying to look as non-threatening as possible to keep that knife away from your jugular. The longer you talk, the longer you live, even if you can’t see a way to get out of this situation right now. “Only the pretty ones.”

The small laugh she lets out this time seems more like a scoff. “You don’t even know what I look like.”

“Please.” You roll your eyes. “Any woman who can fight like you and knows how to handle a knife? Automatically hot. I don’t need to see your face to know that.”

The knife still hasn’t moved. She continues to stare you down and you go tense when her free hand moves. She tugs the cloth of your mask down to reveal your face, the air of the room almost cold against the suddenly bared skin, your breaths free to curl out unhindered.

“Usually I like to be taken out to dinner at least once before we get this intimate, but for you I suppose I’ll make an exception.” You’re still grinning cheekily at her, but your mind continues to race as you try to think of a way to get out of this, especially now that she’s seen what you look like—but you suddenly notice that she’s gone very, very still.

“Y/n?”

The grin freezes on your face. Oh, you’re so boned. You’re so very boned. Like, yeah, you’ve been seconds away from death for the past, hmm, five minutes, but this is somehow worse. How the fuck does she know your name?

You’re given the answer almost immediately. She withdraws the hand from your chin and reaches for her own mask. Your eyes widen and your breath stutters in your throat once you see who it is.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

Yoonji is staring down at you. She’s every inch as imperious and stunning as the last time you’d seen her— hell, even moreso now that you’ve seen what she’s capable of. No wonder you hadn’t been able to find out anything about her after you’d met at that garish charity gala. Because she’s untraceable, just like you.

“Well.” You stare back at her, not even attempting to keep the surprise off your face. “If anyone has to kill me at least I can die satisfied in the knowledge that it was you. Can I make a request? I’d be eternally grateful if you smothered me to death with your thighs. Just a suggestion, feel free to ignore it if you want.”

Yoonji cocks her head. Her bob is tied back, but there’s a loose lock of hair curled by the side of her face that shifts at the motion. Your fingers twitch. If she wasn’t kneeling on your arms you know you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tucking it behind her ear. Any excuse to touch her. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Hey, if it means I get to feel your legs around my face before I die, I’ll give a full fledged TED talk,” you say. “I have to admit, though. When I pictured us in bed together I didn’t think it would be like this.”

The knife still hasn’t moved from your throat. She continues to stare, as if considering what to do next, though her face remains impassive. “What did you think it would be like?”

“Well, you know. Less knives and clothes involved and a lot more making out,” you answer. “You, telling me what to do. Me, entirely at your command. Anything the lady wants, she gets.”

The human body is a fickle and strange beast. Ever since you discovered who’s straddling you, you’ve been growing wetter and wetter, even if you’re trying not to let on that you’re steadily growing more aroused— you’re still distinctly aware of the knife that’s only centimetres away from your skin, but somehow your body is more focused of the fact that the woman you’ve been daydreaming about is finally in front of you again. 

(Well, less in front of you and more on top of you, which is an admittedly preferable option, sans the knife involvement.)

You see how Yoonji’s eyes are darting over your face. No doubt taking in how your pupils are dilated, how your breaths are a little shallower, quicker— signs of fear and signs of arousal are surprisingly similar. You wonder if she can identify which it is. Probably. You’re not exactly very subtle in your attraction to her.

“I forgot my lipstick again,” you add, and Yoonji’s passive mask finally breaks when she rolls her eyes.

“Didn’t I say you wouldn’t need it?”

Even the way she throws the knife aside is gorgeous. The sharp undulation of her wrist as she sends the blade skittering across the polished wood floor is careless and fluid. Her hands cup your face as she bends down, and you send up a mental thanks to any god or higher being who might be listening before Yoonji presses her lips to your and your brain goes blank.

Apparently Yoonji likes it messy. One of her hands is grasping your chin in a mockery of the last time you’d met and she’d painted your lips— your mouth is open and she licks past your lips as you shudder beneath her. She’s still got her knees pressed into your arms, pinning you down, but you desperately crane your head towards her, chasing that kiss; you tilt your head to deepen it, and the whine that leaves you when she pulls away is almost embarrassing.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon and the room is dark, painted in shades of grey and deep blue. You wish you could see Yoonji properly and you can’t help but wriggle a little underneath her, but then you watch her raise her hands and clap three times in rapid succession before the room floods with dim light. Sound activated lights? Damn.

Yoonji’s mouth shines, covered in a sheen of your mixed saliva, her pretty lips flushed rose pink; even without makeup they’re beautiful and their colour is deep, the blooming petals of a flower. Your eyes trail over her face, down her neck, over the fall of her chest and stomach— you’re both far too covered up in these stupid ensembles of yours and you want to strip the clothes off her. You want to see every inch of her beautiful, majestic body, bared for your lips and hands.

Fuck, she’s so gorgeous.

“Not to, um, ruin the moment, but my hands are going numb.” The weight of Yoonji’s body being pressed into your arms has pretty much cut off the blood flow to your fingers and you can feel the telltale sensation of pins and needles spreading through your skin. “Can I have those back, please?”

Yoonji lifts her knees just enough for you to slide your arms out from underneath them. You immediately shed your gloves and go to grab her ass but she gives you a sharp look and you freeze, slowly settling them on her thighs instead, which she allows with only the slightest raise of her eyebrows.

“Watch,” she commands, and who are you to disobey?

She reaches for the tie in her hair, tugging it out and letting her dark locks fall to frame her lovely, beautiful face. You hungrily swallow down each sight that she feeds to you, the skin that’s revealed as she shrugs off her layers of clothing. She unbuckles the weapons hidden underneath her clothes as she sheds them; she’s a veritable arsenal of firearms and knives, all cast carelessly aside until her upper body is finally, blessedly naked. You’ve been staring at her the whole time, the graceful column of her throat, the delicate lines of her collarbones, and your gaze falls to her breasts, small and perfect, nipples dusty pink and hard. You want to put your mouth on them.

“Holy shit, you’re perfect,” you say.

She smirks. You watch as she rolls her body, lifting up from her knees and standing up, towering above you on the bed—your hands fall to the mattress as she pulls her trousers down, tight material dragging against her skin as she slides it over the curve of her hips and down her long legs. There’s a dagger strapped to her thigh, which she unbuckles and lets fall to one side, but god, if she used it to kill you right now, you would die a happy woman. The image of Min Yoonji towering above you in nothing more than some flimsy underwear is one you want to take to the grave.

You can see how the material around her entrance is darkened with her arousal, and you feel your own body react to the sight, pussy throbbing, your own lower lips slick underneath all your layers of clothing. Yoonji hooks her thumbs into her panties and pushes them down, and you’re enraptured as you watch how the wetness clings to them, before that last bit of clothing is cast aside too. 

You moan, unable to stop the sound bubbling up in your throat. From how she’s standing above you, legs spread from how her feet are either side of your hips, you can see everything—how her cunt is flushed, how wet she is, her folds shining. You bet she tastes so fucking good.

You let your mouth fall open, tongue lolling out in a way that’s obscene. You see Yoonji’s eyes flicker as she traces the motion, the way she takes in your expression: wide, hungry eyes, parted lips, wet tongue. Your hands skim up the back of her calves as she shifts forwards and returns to her knees, her naked core so, so close to your mouth, and you dig your fingers into her skin.

“Bon appé-fucking-tit,” you murmur, and then you pull her onto your face.

Yoonji gasps. 

(You were right. She tastes so, so fucking good.)

You’re utterly shameless as you slurp up her juices, the wetness that continues to leak out of her as you bury your face into her cunt, tongue lapping over her entrance as your nose brushes her clit. Your hands have moved to the flesh of her ass and you encourage her to grind against you, rolling her hips towards your greedy mouth; you’re staring up at her, drinking down her reactions, the way her face twists with pleasure and the shuddering breaths she takes in, perfect little breasts jumping at the motion. There’s a flush spreading down her neck and chest, pale skin blushing pink, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

You purse your lips against her clit, circling it with your tongue before dipping back down between her folds. Each time you breathe in all you can smell is her scent, heavy and dark, all your senses filled with Yoonji, Yoonji, Yoonji. When you hum against her, Yoonji arches her spine and throws her head back, so when you press your tongue into her you hum again, letting the vibrations shiver through her.

“Yes,” she gasps, rutting against your face. “Yes, yes—”

Her thighs tighten around your head. You redouble your efforts, watching her face as you continue to swipe your tongue up her slit and through her folds; you wish you could swallow each of the noises that are falling from her lips as she reaches the crest of her pleasure, the little gasps and moans each time you move your tongue in a particularly wicked way.

“There,” she says. “There, there, just like that—”

Your jaw aches but you don’t even register it, too intent on keeping your mouth open and hot and wet against her. It only takes a few more swipes and flicks of your tongue before she shudders violently, canting her hips towards your mouth as her legs go tense and she cums. She continues to straddle your face as she rides out the waves of pleasure, and you swallow down the wetness that flushes out of her rippling cunt, ignoring the throbbing between your own legs.

You can’t talk, muffled by her as you are, but your mind is singing. Look at you, you think. Look at how gorgeous you are. God, I could eat you out all day. (What a blessed life that would be.)

You can tell when Yoonji’s edged into oversensitivity, jolting when your tongue sweeps over her swollen clit; she settles back, knees spread as she rests against your heaving chest, legs tensing each time an aftershock shivers through her. Your mouth is open as you pant in air, but she watches as you swipe your tongue over your lips, catching the lingering taste of her on you, your chin opalescent with her arousal.

“Okay,” you say, breathless. “I’ve done everything that’s worth doing. I’ve peaked. Everything is downhill from here. You can kill me now.”

You’re only half joking, but your thighs instinctively go tight to rub against each other when you see how Yoonji’s eyes darken.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she purrs.

Yoonji might be naked while you’re still clothed, and so still armed, but she’s undoubtedly the one who’s in control right now. You are so, so okay with that. You watch with wide eyes as she shifts back, her hands grabbing the material of your jacket to tug you upwards, but before she can strip off your clothes you capture her lips with your own.

The taste of her is still heady and deep in your mouth and you nip at her bottom lip before pressing your tongue forwards. The kiss is already slick from Yoonji’s wetness and when you pull away, there’s a thin string of saliva that connects you for a moment before it breaks, which Yoonji wipes away from your chin with the pad of her thumb.

“Dirty girl,” she says, and you bite back a moan at the unabashed lust in her voice. Her grip on your chin is firm. “Did I say you could kiss me?”

“No,” you answer. “I couldn’t help myself.”

She tuts, as if disappointed, and every one of your nerve endings feels electrified, ready and anticipating whatever Yoonji is going to do next. “Such a shame,” she says. “You just can’t keep your hands or mouth to yourself, can you?”

“Can you blame me?”

Yoonji huffs out a laugh through her nose. She strips your jacket off in one sharp motion and then your shirt is similarly pulled off with single-minded intent, along with every other piece of equipment cinched to your arms and body. When you reach for her, though, she captures your wrists, her face stern.

“If you keep moving without permission, I’m going to take that privilege away from you.”

You don’t have to see your own eyes to know how your pupils will have dilated from that statement, blood thrumming through your veins, and you can tell Yoonji has noticed when her expression shifts.

“Oh.” A small, triumphant smirk appears on her face. “I see.”

You lift your arms up so she can pull your sports bra off (of course if you had known you’d been running into Yoonji again you would have worn something nicer). Rather than touch your heaving chest, however, she pushes you down onto the mattress, a hand around your wrists so they’re held above your head.

“Keep still,” she says.

She reaches for the holster that you’d had around your upper arm, lazily casting the knife aside before looping it around your wrists and pulling it secure.

Yoonji’s fingers ease under the nylon as she checks the fit. It’s tight, but not so much so that it’s painful or dangerous, and there’s a hushed moment when the realisation hits you— Yoonji and yourself are both skilled enough to know that you could easily free yourself if you wanted to. It would only take a little motion of your wrists and hands and you could slip them out of the makeshift cuffs in an instant.

You melt into the mattress. Yoonji’s eyes shift away from your wrists as she takes in the way you’ve gone utterly relaxed and limp below her, staring back at her. You see an expression flit across her face faster than you can see, before she slides down your body so she can push your legs apart.

You lift your hips to help her strip your trousers off. Her hand lingers on the concealed holster around your thigh, eyeing the small pistol nestled inside it, before that too is stripped off and cast aside. Her hands trail over the soft skin of your hips and stomach, eyes skimming over the bared length of your body before settling between your legs, the slickness of your inner thighs.

“You got this wet just from eating me out?” Her pretty mouth is curled into an expression that’s almost mocking, and your legs jolt as she runs her fingers lightly over your lower lips before rubbing her fingertips together to feel the wetness she’s gathered. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your nails dig into your palms as your hands twist against each other and you shift your legs further apart. “Please, Yoonji,” you plead, shameless from desperation and arousal.

She laughs at your obvious hunger. “I suppose I should return the favour, shouldn’t I?”

You watch breathlessly as she lifts her fingers to her lips, swallowing them into her mouth to get them slick and wet. The motions of her tongue are languid as she licks across her fingers. You’re like a livewire, thrumming with electricity, and the sensation of her finally sinking one of those fingers into you sends sparks throughout your body.

Yoonji’s maddeningly slow. Your body takes her readily, her long finger gliding easily in and out of you, but she makes no move to speed up; you let out a small noise and she moves upwards to kiss you, as if indulging you, and you’ve just relaxed against her mouth when she plunges a second finger in.

She swallows your gasp as her fingers speed up, before she starts to kiss across your jaw, your neck, between the valley of your breasts and then closing her mouth over one of your nipples— she times the flick of her tongue with the thrust of her fingers, and then you feel how she takes her thumb to press your clit at the same time and you’re gone, falling over the edge faster than you’d expected. Your orgasm is fast but deep, your walls clenching tight around the fingers that continue to curl in and out of you, but she doesn’t stop.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “It’s too— oh—”

Those two fingers continue to rub your sweet spot as you edge into oversensitivity but Yoonji doesn’t let up. She continues to lick and bite at the skin of your chest, putting her mouth to your other breast and circling the hardened bud of your nipple with her tongue before kissing down your stomach, your pubic bone, and then pressing her lips to your swollen clit.

You whimper. Her pace of her fingers has quickened, and she curls them each time she almost pulls them out, the squelch of their motions obscene as they slide through the cum of your first orgasm. She stares up at you, lapping at your clit with her tongue, and you can feel the saliva that’s dripping from her mouth and over your flushed core, every inch of you oversensitive but screaming with pleasure.

It’s almost painful, but you can feel an orgasm creeping through that ache; you wring your hands together and sob as Yoonji continues to finger fuck you without mercy, her pace almost bruising, the thrust of her knuckles against you each time she bottoms out just one more layer on top of that overwhelming pleasure.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “I’m g-gonna cum again.”

She hums against you, and you make an incoherent noise at the feeling of that sound against your clit, almost too much— and then she presses one more finger into you, and that’s it, that slight burn and stretch sending you hurtling over that edge again. When you cum, your hips buck and you gasp, air rushing into your lungs before it escapes you in a moan of ecstasy; the only sensations registering in your mind right now are the ripples of pleasure spreading through your cunt as Yoonji pulls her fingers out of you, pressing down on your clit in a way that’s almost cruel, and you sob as your legs instinctively try to tighten but are prevented from doing so by Yoonji’s unyielding presence.

She’s staring down at you as you start to go lax, and you think she’s finished with you, but you watch with widening eyes as she takes her ring and middle finger to run them through your sodden folds. You sob again when those fingers plunge back into you, palm pressing against your clit each time she curls her fingers, and you squirm underneath her.

“Yoonji, it’s too much,” you cry.

“One more.” Yoonji’s leaning back and staring at you, taking in the sweat that’s beading across your skin, the tears that are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill down your face and into your hair. “You’re doing so well, darling, you can give me one more, can’t you?”

Your reply is incoherent, a small noise that shudders out of the back of your throat. You’ve never been thrown so thoroughly into pleasure like this, overstimulated and aching, but there’s that flicker of pleasure still between your legs, growing each time Yoonji beckons with her fingers, curling over your abused sweet spot again and again and again.

“Just say the word and I’ll stop,” Yoonji says, the wet plunge of her fingers into your abused pussy so messy and loud but not enough to drown her out. “One word and I’ll stop.”

You don’t say anything. You just let your eyes roll back into your head as you cant your hips towards her, trying to latch onto that thread of pleasure that’s thrumming through you below all your screaming nerves, and the noise Yoonji makes is pleased.

“There we go,” she praises. “Look at you, so good for me. Pretty darling.”

You can feel how your pussy clenches around Yoonji’s fingers, how the coil in you is squeezing tighter and tighter, how another orgasm is somehow creeping up on you— you tilt your hips towards that feeling, towards Yoonji’s hand, and then she’s pulling her fingers out of you in an almost rough motion and you’re cumming harder than you ever have before.

“Oh, fuck!” You sob. 

It’s indescribable. The sensation rips through you as your back arches off the bed and you’re cumming and squirting and gasping and you can feel the wetness that slicks out of you, your toes curling as your brain goes blank from the staggering pleasure and static consumes every one of your senses. Your entire body feels like nothing more than a vessel for the ecstasy that’s shooting through your veins, spreading out from your core and to every corner of your insides and limbs.

It takes you a while to come back around, aftershocks wracking through your body. You feel sluggish and slow as your mind slowly clears, focusing on the sensation of warm hands stroking over the skin of your stomach and hips and thighs; your eyes flutter open and when you glance down you can see the shine to Yoonji’s skin, evidence of your pleasure painting her in a thin sheen of liquid.

“Oh my god,” you moan. “Holy shit.”

She smiles. “You were so, so good for me,” she says. She leans down to press a light kiss to collarbones and you shiver. “So beautiful. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve died and gone to heaven before coming back again,” you reply. “Oh, that was so good, Yoonji. I’ve never squirted before. I didn’t realise I could. God.”

Yoonji laughs lightly. You can’t help but watch the way it transforms her face, the way her chest jumps at the motion, every inch of her gorgeous and majestic and cute and pretty. “You did so, so well,” she praises, before she kisses you, her mouth so soft; you barely notice the sudden easing of pressure around your wrists as she releases you, more intent on the sensation of her soft petal lips against your own.

You stare up at her as she pulls away. Powerful, amazing Min Yoonji, kneeling between your legs, naked but not helpless. Definitely less vulnerable than you right now. And yet she’s still making no moves to grab one of the many weapons littered around the bed so she can finally finish her contract by completing the kill. It would be so easy for her.

The silence of the room is suddenly broken by a tiny buzzing noise. You both glance over at the sound, one that Yoonji doesn’t recognise but you do— the communicator in one of your wristbands, the one you use to keep in contact with Namjoon.

You watch the twisting of Yoonji’s body as she leans over the bed to hook the band with a finger before proffering it to you. You pause, but then grasp her wrist and lightly pull so she ends up pressed against you, softness of her breasts against your own, and you hold the communicator between your faces as you accept the call.

“Thank god you answered.” Namjoon’s voice is obviously frantic even through the tinniness of the small speaker. “Dahye cancelled the contract because Minjae wants to reconcile with her, but apparently he’s already put a hit out on you— tonight was a ruse, Minjae isn’t going to be there, you have to get out of there—”

“Bit too late for that,” you interrupt. Yoonji’s hair is tickling your cheek. “Don’t worry. I have it in hand. Send some flowers to Minjae for me, will you?”

“Flowers?” Namjoon sounds understandably confused. “Why?”

“As a thank you for taking out a contract on me,” you say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a little busy.”

“With what?”

“With me,” Yoonji says, and you hear Namjoon’s surprised intake of breath before you cut the line.

You end up laughing to yourself. “Oh, he’s going to hate me for that,” you giggle. Yoonji’s hand trails up your stomach and you continue to giggle at the ticklish sensation. Her skin is still slick against yours, and you suddenly realise how cold it is in the room, the air touching the cooling liquid that’s rubbed off against your skin, and you shiver. “Mm. I think it’s time to clean up. Want me to scrub your back in the shower? I give very good massages.”

Yoonji’s eyes are dark and warm before she presses her nose to your neck, lips soft as they touch the delicate skin of your throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Headcanons for being best friends with Klaus Hargreeves

Klaus Hargreeves x reader

warnings: drugs/alcohol, blood, smoking, guns, death mention

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Hi! Could you write a Klaus Hargreeves x best friend reader headcanon, just the random shenanigans they get into together, the fun they have together. No hidden romance or anything, just complete and utter platonic LOVE. If you have ideas for some angsty point in the headcanon feel free to put them in, I just want to be best friends with Klaus so bad and this is my way to fulfill it XD thank you so much!!”

meeting each other pretty much the day he left the umbrella academy

he was cheering in the street, which you found absolutely amusing

“hey, what’s got you so happy?”

“i’m so glad you asked! today’s my eighteenth birthday, which means im free at last!”

“wow, well, happy birthday”

“i have the greatest idea, do you want to spend it with me?”

you didn’t have anything else to do, so why the hell not?

klaus was a wild child, anyone could have told you that

he paraded down the streets with you, arms interlocked as he skipped around town

you two were singing whatever tune came to mind

“where are you staying tonight?”

“wherever i please!”

“would you like to crash on my couch?”

“do you have a tv?”

“i do”

he agreed and made you watch movies with him until you both passed out

after that night, you two became best friends

he was a lot to handle, but you could take it

plus, you didn’t mind having some crazy unplanned fun, either

to be honest, klaus did have some rough patches, though

he’d call you from the police station time and time again, asking for you to come pick him up

klaus magically was able to talk them out of any charges, you thought only his sister could do that

oh! i forgot to mention, he opened up to you about his powers and the way he was raised

you had heard about the umbrella academy before, so you believed him

you were just surprised that he was one of ‘em

“yeah, yeah, dad said i’m supposed to ‘commune with the dead,’ but he has no idea how hard that actually is! the mental toll it has on a person!”

he told you about ben, who was actually present at the time, you just couldn’t see him

you and klaus went on to be friends for years, sharing so many memories together

some of them were drunken, you must admit

you weren’t a fan of klaus’s addiction, though, especially as time went on

“klaus, you need to pull it together. i really think you should go to rehab. just try it out?”

“but i don’t want to part with you for that long! i’ll be lost!”

“don’t worry, i’ll still be here when you get out”

patching him up when he got hurt, which was often

“aw, my shirt has blood on it. that’s too bad, i liked this one”

“you know, klaus, the blood gives you some character”

“you know what? you’re right!!”

he would go on the wildest tangents about his family sometimes, five superpowered siblings (+ vanya), a billionaire for a father, a robot for a mother, and monkey.......totally normal childhood

sometimes he’d see his sister, allison, on the tv and watch whatever it was she was in, he thought she was magnificent

he really did miss her sometimes

“you know, they were all the worst siblings you could ask for, but they are my family. i wonder how they’re doing right now...”

“do you want to visit them sometime, i can come with”

“oh, nonono, you don’t want to do that, we may try to kill each other!”

“i believe that”

him finding vanya’s book and reading it with you in tears

“i know, klaus, i know. she didn’t mean to hurt you, i’m sure. she made the wrong decision”

“she just told the world about very private family matters! what else was she trying to do?!”

klaus and you stuck together for a few more years, but the day he found out his dad died was....it was something

he was laughing, crying, popping open the champagne, crying some more, hugging you tightly, and singing happy songs

“y/n...will—will you come to the funeral with me? please?”

“yeah, i can do that”

the house he grew up in was HUGE

he insisted on giving you a tour while he snatched up trinkets to sell

“put it back...”

“but it’s mine!”

passing by his other siblings and awkwardly waving

“who are you?”

“excuse you, this is my very best friend in the whole wide world!”

okay, it was a lot more uncomfortable that you expected it to be

especially when “number one” dumped the ashes at the funeral and then “number two” started shit talking their dad, and klaus started laughing when they started fighting

passing his cigarette back and forth

okay, and then he suddenly had a 13 year old brother fall from the sky

“klaus, are you sure we were smoking a cigarette?”

“i’m never sure of anything anymore, darling”

“that’s reassuring”

the little brother did not give a flying FUCK who you were

smth about the apocalypse

babysitting klaus as he spiraled out of control bc of his family

uh, losing klaus several times

and then he got kidnapped

and then he time traveled to the 60s and fell in love???

he told you all about dave

“he sounds amazing, klaus. do you think you could conjure him?”

“that’s not a bad idea! i just need to stay sober!”

easier said than done

apocalypse apocalypse apocalypse

now you were all in on that

you never thought that your accompaniment to a funeral would lead to several shootings, murders, and traumas.......wow

you really felt out of place

his sistee ended the world. you know, vanya, the one you thought had no powers

so his brother, five, time traveled the lot of you to the 1960s, but you landed alone in texas

“klaus? klaus?! anybody???”

having to cope with the fact that you were going to have to acclimate to living in the past on your own, it could be worse

you could have died in 2019

you went on for another year or two trying to keep your head low

but you ran into a familiar face soon

“allison?”

“y/n?”

although you didn’t know each other very well before this, you were ecstatic to find someone in the same situation as you

soon everyone began finding each other and also the world was gonna end again

reuniting with klaus

sobbing while you hugged him

“y/n, oh, my god, i can’t believe it’s really you!”

“i missed you so much, this has been such a wild ride”

“welcome to the hargreeves family”

ben, who you couldn’t hear: “he wouldn’t shut up about you!”

this new timeline was decidedly not a vibe

“you know, the 60s fashion i can live with, but everything else? complete trash i would like to go home”

everyone had to protect you because you didn’t have powers and they actually kind of cared about you?

klaus would also absolutely lose it if you got hurt

he would tell you all about his cult every moment he got

also he let you hang out at his mansion

but there was no time to hang out, you guys REALLY had to fix the timeline in any way you could

after becoming fugitives, you went to a barn for an epic *final battle* where you died lived bc five changed the timeline

getting back to 2019 only to find that it was......not the same at all

“i think...i think we may have fucked up”

“yeah, i’m going to have to agree with you there”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @cullens-stuff // @lotsoffandomrecs // @takethebladeawayfromme // @tessacabrera // @teenwaywardasgardian // @spidergirla5 // @sheridans-dynamos // @freya-xo // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @jay-is-groovy // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm //

Spoiler-ish (technically the screenwriter backtracking and trying to fix that clownery)

Okay just to keep track of everything : post by the screenwriter + pic with translation about said post + translated text (via google bc I don’t speak chinese...) + original text all under the cut.

1)Translation 

"Hate Your Lord Is Not Like Jiang Lou Yue" Finale 37-1 At the entrance of Yuzhitang Jiang Yuelou stands on the opposite side of the street, going back and forth across the street The flow of people and the glass windows of Yu Zhitang, watching the glass After Chen Yuzhi, the corners of his mouth rose unconsciously. 37-2 Within days of Yu Zhitang Chen Yuzhi packed the things on the table, ready to hit kind. Chen Yuzhi noticed a scorching gaze, Lifting his gaze, it was Jiangyue Tower. Jiang Yuelou raised an eyebrow at him triumphantly and gave him one Bright laugh. Chen Yuzhi smiled back and took off the white The lab coat, walked towards the door. 37-3 Outside the entrance of Yuzhitang Chen Yuzhi locked the door, Jiang Yuelou crossed the street Come. Chen Yuzhi; Didn't you say that the police station was handed over in the morning? Do you have a lot of work and are you busy? Jiang Yuelou: No matter how busy you are, you have to eat. Besides, Today's special day, Lantern Festival, not with me Over? Chen Yuzhi turned around and smiled gently: OK, together Over. 37-4 Jingcheng Street Niwai Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yuzhi walked along the street, talking and laughing With. The people on both sides of the street, some are cooking, some Playing chess, some are drinking tea, and some are living and working in peace and contentment. Look like. Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yuzhi comforted and looked at each other laugh. Jiang Yuelou: Our efforts were not in vain, they Finally can live a stable life. Chen Yuzhi: Yeah, finally, everything is worth it From time to time, someone greeted the two. Passerby: Doctor Chen! Passer-by: Section Chief Jiang! Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yuzhi nodded in response with a smile. Passers-by greeted warmly: Chief Jiang, come to the house for soup Round, we made it ourselves, don't dislike it. Jiang Yuelou laughed: No, we are also going to go back do. Chen Yuzhi was stunned, and after passers-by walked away, he asked: Are you planning to do it yourself? Jiang Yuelou; otherwise? Chen Yuzhi: I thought you meant to go to the house at the door Kunton stalls, her family will cook some glutinous rice balls every day Applicable. Jiangyuelou: Do it yourself, it has a special flavor. Smile of Chen Yuzhi: Okay, listen to you. The two talked and laughed and walked. Not far ahead, A man in a rickshaw driver's clothes raised his eyes slightly The line turned out to be Zhan Junbai who escaped from the dead. Zhan Junbai raised his gaze and looked at it with hatred. From a subjective perspective, Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yuzhi are getting closer Up. Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yuzhi didn't realize it was coming Danger, chatting. Jiang Yuelou: It’s been a long time since I rode a horse. This weekend, Go for horse racing? Chen Yuzhixiao: This time, I will definitely beat you. Jiang Yuelou is full of confidence: give it a try. While they were talking, the two had already arrived in front of Zhan Junbai. Zhan Junbai suddenly held a gun and shot at Jiangyuelou. He It is the one that was given to Yutangchun and then returned The gun in his own hand. Chen Yuzhi didn't hesitate to rush to block Jiangyue Tower In front of him, the bullet shot into Chen Yuzhi's heart. Jiangyuelou Want to block the future. Jiang Yuelou's unbelievable look, hold it fast with one hand Chen Yuzhi, who was about to fall, drew his spear without hesitation and charged Zhuan Junbai shot. The people scattered and fled. Zhan Junbai was shot, his body was shocked, crazy and terrifying Smiling and falling to the ground, he looked at Jiang Yuelou proudly. He felt no physical pain, he was immersed in revenge In pleasure. A string of beads on his hand broke and fell The ground, scattered around, that is Yutangchun's hand when he was alive Beaded. Zhan Jun white grinning smile: Jiang Yuelou, what I lost, you I can't get it either. He died, more painful than your death Right? Jiang Yuelou didn't care about Zhanjun Bai, nervously Pulling off Chen Yuzhi's jacket, he saw the bullet shooting through the inside The armor is almost penetrated, severely changed Fortunately, it did not hurt the body. Jiang Yuelou is anxious and worried: how are you, where did you hurt Is it there? Chen Yuzhi patted Jiang Yuelou's hand comfortably: I didn't thing. Jiang Yuelou annoyed Chen Yu's eyes: Both of us Go back and calculate! Zhan Junbai saw that Chen Yuzhi was not injured, and he was shocked. Unbelievable look; how is this possible?! Jiang Yuelou turned and walked towards Zhan Junbai, staring at him He: I've already gotten it right, you won't let it go, from I have been waiting since the day you fled, waiting for you come back. As Jiang Yuelou said, he opened his coat, and he did it too Protection: Zhan Junbai, I am different from you, you lose Go, I will never lose. Jiang Yuelou said, glanced at Chen Yuzhi, the two were right Depending on. Zhan Junbai was defeated and looked desperate. Jiang Yuelou raised his gun again, preparing to end Zhanjun White. Zhan Junbai moved his eyes from Jiangyue Tower to Chen Yuzhi, supporting With one last breath: Dr. Chen, can Can't help me Busy? Chen Yuzhi looked at him coldly: I won't help you intercede Yes, you deserve it. Zhan Junbai; it's not this busy...cough cough... Zhan Jun white mouth and more and more blood surges in the wound Out, dyed red beads scattered on the ground, like red beans. Zhan Junbai: Help me and him, be buried together... Chen Yuzhi's accident: You didn't sink him into the crab pond? Zhan Junbai smiled: I really sink him, how can I give up Got. If you don't say this, how can you hold the following people. Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yuzhi looked at each other, Chen Yuzhibai Mixed feelings. Chen Yuzhi: Where is he buried? Zhan Junbai; Chengdong. Xinglinli. Chen Yuzhi remembered Yutangchun telling that he liked it before he was alive Xinglin in the east of the city, I want to survive the spring and be buried in Xinglin One scene. Zhan Junbai; help me, okay... Chen Yuzhi shook his head: He was tortured because of you during his lifetime. After death, I definitely don’t want to have anything with you Ge. The only pleading look in Zhan Junbai's life; please You... Dr. Chen, please... Chen Yuzhi did not hesitate, turned and walked towards Jiang Yue floor. Jiang Yuelou raised the muzzle and ended Zhan Junbai's Raw. The picture is getting darker. 37-5 Jiangyuelou's home at night The door opened, Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yuzhi came in. Jiang Yuelou's complexion is not very good, he is angry, heavy Sitting on the sofa. Chen Yuzhi was a little guilty, took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves Zi: What about making glutinous rice balls? I'll prepare them. Jiang Yuelou stared at him, did not speak, his eyes followed Chen I walked around. Chen Yuzhi looked back: Don't do it now? Jiang Yuelou got up and strode towards Chen Yuzhi: What to do What do you do, settle the account! Chen Yuzhi: I was not injured... Jiang Yuelou is angry; this is a fluke, what if?! Me The armor is prepared for you to protect yourself, not for Let you save people! Chen Yuzhi: But that's you... Jiang Yuelou is fierce: No one can do it! Besides, I'm not without it, I need you to rush out to protect me Did you know that I was almost scared to death.. Chen Yuzhi: Sorry, I was in a hurry, I forgot Up. Jiang Yuelou was stunned: Did you forget about the armor? Chen Yuzhi: It was too late to think too much... Jiang Yuelou suddenly felt very heartfelt, touched and touched. Fear, his fierce face instantly softened, and he raised his hand Gave Chen Yuzhi a deep hug. Jiang Yuelou whispered: Yu Zhi, in my life, I don't Fortunately...but how lucky it is to meet you. Chen Yuzhi responded in a low voice: Me too, Yuelou. How lucky to meet you... For a moment, Jiang Yuelou let go and pushed Chen Yuzhi towards kitchen. Chen Yuzhi: What? Jiang Yuelou: Make glutinous rice balls! 37-6 black screen subtitles: one year later 37-7 A small courtyard in a countryside day (faint) inside/outside The dusk is groggy. With the door open, you can see that Chen Keying is holding a small Play freely in the hall. In the courtyard, Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yuzhi are sitting on a stone table before. There are some dried herbs on the table, Chen Yuzhi Pulling herbs. Jiang Yuelou held a newspaper in her hand, Newspaper headlines, Jin Dacheng became director, Jing Chengtai level. Jiang Yuelou smiled, put down the newspaper, picked up the tea cup, Make tea comfortably. Jiang Yuelou took a sip of hot tea and looked at Chen Yu Zhi: Alright, it's been an afternoon, and tomorrow Chen Yuzhi laughs: a few days later is the rainy season, so you have to take advantage of the sky Okay, just dry it thoroughly. Jiang Yuelou handed a cup of hot tea: no hurry at this time and a half Engrave, take a sip of tea slowly. Chen Yuzhi raised his hand to indicate, his slender fingers were touched Herb sap stained with emerald color. Jiang Yuelou simply handed the cup over, Chen Yuzhi low Head, took a few sips of water with Jiang Yuelou's hand. Jiang Yuelou: I have found the location of the clinic, what do I need Please leave the list empty, let's go buy it together. Chen Yuzhi raised his head and looked at Jiang Yuelou, making a cunning point Laughter: Everything else is easy to say, there is only one thing, I'm afraid it is It's not easy to buy. Jiang Yuelou: What is it? Come and listen. Chen Yuzhi: The original Yuzhitang plaque is pretty good Yes, it's a pity that I forgot to bring it when I moved. Jiang Yuelou: This is easy to handle, I will solve it. Chen Yuzhi laughed: What, the engraver of Yuelou, once Is it ripe for the second time? Jiang Yuelou froze for a while, reacted, you all know Up? Chen Yuzhi: Yes. Jiang Yuelou: When did it happen? Smile of Chen Yu: Secret. Jiang Yuelou raised her eyebrows: Secret? Then don't blame me Up. Jiang Yuelou said, got up, went to the hut and dragged out A plaque, carefully wrapped in cloth, Jiangyue Tower Raise your hand, the cloth flutters, revealing Yu Zhitang below Plaque. Chen Yuzhi laughed blankly. Jiang Yuelou smiled proudly. In the distance, the setting sun, crimson and yellow cross Jiang Yuelou stared into the distance, feeling: Yu Zhi, the sun It's down. Chen Yuzhi raised his eyes and looked along the Jiangyue Tower Go, the dusk is bleak. Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yuzhi stared at each other, tacitly agreeing Laugh, all affectionate, all affection, everything is silent in. The silhouette in the sunset gradually merged. --End of the whole play- Extraordinary ending Green poplar smoke is light outside, red apricot branches spring Noisy. In the Xinglin in the east of the city, one is well repaired But there is no tomb with a stele. In front of the tombstone, put some fresh Bouquets and memorial supplies. The camera pulls up, from the feet up, Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yu 之入画. The two stood side by side in front of the tombstone, looking at jade Tang Chun's tomb is silently missed. Flashback, the scene before Zhan Junbai died. Chen Yuzhi: Where is he buried? Zhan Junbai; Chengdong. Xinglin Li.. Keke (kee Blood). I didn’t engrave the stele, in case someone knows the body Fortunately, he was troubled by me, and he couldn't be peaceful after death. The flashback is over. Chen Yuzhi: I did not agree to his request, if you You know Izumi, surely he is unwilling, right? No one answered, the wind blows the flowers. Jiang Yuelou comfortably embraced Chen Yuzhi and rubbed twice Lower the neck; if you really promise to help him be buried together, That's what insulted boss Yu. Now it's good Up. Jiang Yuelou said, let go of Chen Yuzhi, and looked back The cliff not far away. On the cliff, there is no one Lonely grave with lettering. Because of the terrain, the lone tomb can be In order to see the Xinglin and Yutangchun tombs under the mountain, and The lone tomb is always in the back of Yutangchun's tomb, no Will get a glimmer of light. Chen Yuzhi looked back, feeling complicated, sighing sound. Jiang Yuelou; gone, let's go home for the rest. The setting sun stained the branches and willows of Xinglin, Jiangyuelou, Chen Yu Zhi crosses the Xinglin side by side, and the rest of the discussion spreads from time to time Come. Chen Yuzhi: Yuelou, you said, people have an afterlife ? Jiang Yuelou took a deep look at Chen Yuzhi: I don't know Tao, but I hope there is. Chen Yuzhi laughed; even if he had, he drank Meng Po soup, Probably also met and did not know each other. Jiang Yuelou: Leave a secret sign, how about? If you meet again See, you won’t miss it. Chen Yuzhi ridiculed: Isn't that necessary for generations to come Met you guy? Jiang Yuelou jealous: Listening to these words, it seems not very willing? Chen Yuzhi: If it were you, I would be willing. Jiang Yuelou was deeply moved, and the two smiled at each other. The shadow disappeared in the depths of the apricot forest. The mountain scenery is steep, Zhan Junbai stands on the cliff, but He didn't feel cold, he was just cold in his heart. Zhan Junbai stared deeply at a touch of the apricot forest ahead Back, his eyes cleared and disappeared. Zhan Junbai murmured: Do you have an afterlife? The mountain wind blows and blows, as if it blows this sentence to the mountain In the ears of people. Yutangchun faces the apricot forest and back to the cliff. For some reason, weeping and whispering slightly; I don't know Tao. Zhan Junbai; They have an appointment in the next life... If, I We also have an afterlife, will everything be different? Yutangchun Yuguang glanced back slightly, his eyes earning Tangle and sigh; if there is an afterlife, I Hope, never meet you again. Jun Bai. I hope Hope, for generations to come, never see each other... From Huawei memo @ 直好好的

=> so basically, the shooting happens but Yuzhi was wearing some sort of bulletproof vest and he didn’t get hurt. They hug and both go “so lucky to have met you”. All is well in the world, this is the canon ending and fuck the rest~ 

2)Original text (extracted from the pic)

《恨君不似江楼月》大结局 37-1余之堂门口 日外 江月楼站在街道对面,隔着街道来往 的人流和余之堂的玻璃窗,注视着玻璃 后的陈余之,嘴角不自觉上扬。 37-2 余之堂日内 陈余之收拾着桌面的东西,准备打 样。陈余之察觉到一股灼热的目光, 抬起视线看去,是江月楼。 江月楼得意地冲他扬眉,赠予他一个 明亮的笑。陈余之回以一笑,脫下白 大褂,朝着门外走去。 37-3 余之堂门口日外 陈余之锁门,江月楼穿过街道上 来。 陈余之;早上你不是说最近警署交接 工作多,很忙吗? 江月楼:再忙,也得吃饭啊。再说, 今天特殊日子,元宵节,不跟我一起 过? 陈余之转身,温和一笑:好,一起 过。 37-4景城街道 日外 江月楼、陈余之沿着街道走着,说笑 着。 街道两边的百姓,有的在煮饭,有的 在下棋,有的在喝茶,一副安居乐业的 样子。 江月楼、陈余之心中安慰,对视一 笑。 江月楼:我们的努力没有白费,他们 终于能过上安稳的日子了。 陈余之:是啊,总算,一切都值 不时有人向两人打招呼。 路人甲:陈医生! 路人乙:江科长! 江月楼、陈余之微笑点头回应。 路人热情招呼:江科长,来家里吃汤 圆啊,我们自己做的,别嫌弃。 江月楼笑:不用了,我们也准备回去 做。 陈余之愕了下,待路人走开后,问: 你打算自己做啊? 江月楼;不然呢? 陈余之:我以为,你是说去门口那家 锟饨摊吃,她家每到这天都会煮些汤圆 应景。 江月楼:自己做,别有风味。 陈余之笑:好,听你的。 两人说笑着,走着。前方不远处, 个穿着黄包车夫衣服的人微微抬起视 线,竟然是死里逃生的展君白。 展君白抬起视线,仇恨的目光看去, 主观视角,江月楼和陈余之越来越近 了。 江月楼和陈余之浑然不觉即将到来的 危险,聊着。 江月楼:好久没骑马了,这个周末, 赛马去? 陈余之笑:这次,一定赢你。 江月楼自信满满:试试看。 说话间,两人已经到了展君白面前, 展君白突然持枪,朝着江月楼开枪,他 拿着的,是那把曾送给玉堂春后又回到 自己手上的枪。 陈余之毫不犹豫地扑过去挡在江月楼 身前,子弹射进陈余之心口处。江月楼 想要阻拦未来得及。 江月楼不敢置信的神情,一手扶住快 要倒下的陈余之,毫不犹豫地拔枪,冲 着展君白开枪。百姓们四散而逃。 展君白中弹,身子一震,疯狂恐怖地 笑着倒地,他器张得意地看着江月楼, 身体的痛他毫无感觉,他沉浸在报复的 快感中。他手上戴着的一串珠子断裂落 地,四散开来,那是玉堂春生前不离手 的串珠。 展君白狞笑:江月楼,我失去的,你 也得不到。他死了,比你死了,更痛 吧? 江月楼顾不得搭理展君白,紧张地 扯开陈余之外套,看到子弹射在内里穿 着的护甲上,护甲几乎被穿透,严重变 形,所幸没有伤及身体。 江月楼着急担忧:你怎么样,伤到哪 里没有? 陈余之宽慰地拍拍江月楼的手:我没 事。 江月楼气恼地陈余之一眼:咱俩的 账回去算! 展君白看到陈余之并未受伤,楞住, 不可置信的神情;这怎么可能?! 江月楼转身走向展君白,死死盯着 他:我早就算准了你不会善罢甘休,从 你逃离的那天起,我一直在等着,等你 回来。 江月楼说着,撩开自己外套,他也做 了防护:展君白,我跟你不一样,你失 去的,我永远不会失去。 江月楼说着,看了眼陈余之,两人对 视。 展君白一败涂地,绝望神情。 江月楼再次抬起枪口,准备结束展君 白。 展君白视线从江月楼移向陈余之,撑 着最后一口气:陈医生,能 不能,帮我 个忙? 陈余之冷眼看他:我不会帮你求情 的,你这是罪有应得。 展君白;不是这个忙...咳咳.... 展君白白嘴角和伤口越来越多的血涌 出,染红了地上散落的珠子,宛如红 豆。 展君白:帮我和他,葬在一起... 陈余之意外:你没把他沉进蟹塘? 展君白笑了笑:真沉了他,我如何舍 得。不这样说,又如何镇得住下面的 人。 江月楼、陈余之对视一眼,陈余之百 感交集。 陈余之:他葬在何处? 展君白;城东.杏林里。 陈余之想起玉堂春生前诉说自己喜欢 城东杏林,想要熬过春天,葬在杏林的 一幕。 展君白;帮我,行吗... 陈余之摇头:他生前因你受尽折磨, 死后,定然也不愿和你再有什么瓜 葛。 展君白一生唯一一次恳求的眼神;求 你... 陈医生,求你.. 陈余之没有犹豫,转身走向江月 楼。 江月楼抬起枪口,结束了展君白的一 生。 画面渐黑。 37-5 江月楼的家 夜 内 门开,江月楼、陈余之进门。 江月楼面色不太好,生气中,重重地 坐在沙发上。 陈余之有些心虚,脱下外套,挽起袖 子:做汤圆的东西呢?我去准备。 江月楼盯着他,不说话,视线随着陈 余之走动而动。 陈余之回头:现在不做吗? 江月楼起身,大步走向陈余之:做什 么做,算账! 陈余之:我没受伤... 江月楼气;这是侥幸,万一呢?!我 给你准备护甲是让你自保的,不是为了 让你救人的! 陈余之:可那是你... 江月楼凶巴巴:是谁都不行!再说, 我又不是没有,用得着你冲出来护我 吗?你知不知道,我差点吓死.. 陈余之:对不起,一时情急,我忘 了。 江月楼愣住:你忘了护甲这回事? 陈余之:当时来不及想太多... 江月楼突然感到无比的窝心、感动和 后怕,凶巴巴的脸瞬间软化下来,抬手 给了陈余之一个深深的拥抱。 江月楼低喃:余之,我这一生,很不 幸...但又何其有幸,竟能遇见你。 陈余之低声回应:我也一样,月楼。 遇见你,何其有幸.. 片刻,江月楼松手,推着陈余之走向 厨房。 陈余之:嗯?干什么? 江月楼:做汤圆! 37-6黑屏字幕:一年后 37-7 某乡下小院 日(昏)内/外 暮色昏沉。 屋门开着,可以看到,陈可盈抱着小 自在厅内玩耍。 院子里,江月楼和陈余之坐在石桌 前。桌上摆着些晾晒的草药,陈余之 正在翻拉草药。江月楼手上拿着报纸, 报纸头条,金大成开任署长,景城太 平。 江月楼笑了,放下报纸,拿起茶杯, 惬意泡茶。 江月楼自顾自喝了一口热茶,看向陈 余之:好了,侍弄一下午了,明日再 陈余之笑:过几日是雨季,得趁着天 好,晒干晒透才行。 江月楼递上一杯热茶:不急这一时半 刻,喝口茶缓缓。 陈余之抬起手示意,他修长手指上沾 染了翠色的药草汁液。 江月楼干脆将杯子递过去,陈余之低 头,就着江月楼的手喝了几口水。 江月楼:诊所的位置找好了,需要什 么物件你空了列一下,我们一起去买。 陈余之抬头,看向江月楼,狡點一 笑:别的都好说,只有一件东西,怕是 不好买。 江月楼:什么东西?你说来听听。 陈余之:原来那块余之堂的牌匾挺好 的,可惜,搬家的时候忘带了。 江月楼:这个啊,好办,我来解决。 陈余之笑:怎么,月楼的雕工,一回 生二回熟了? 江月楼愣了下,反应过来,你都知道 了? 陈余之:嗯。 江月楼:什么时候的事儿? 陈余之笑:秘密。 江月楼扬眉:秘密啊?那就别怪我 了。 江月楼说着,起身,去一旁小屋拖出 一块牌匾,上面用布仔细包着,江月楼 扬手,布飘扬开来,露出下面的余之堂 匾额。 陈余之哑然失笑。 江月楼得意傲娇的笑。 远处,夕阳西下,绯红色和黄色交 江月楼凝望远处,感慨:余之,太阳 落山了。 陈余之抬起视线,顺着江月楼视线看 去,暮色苍茫。 江月楼、陈余之凝视彼此,默契一 笑,一切深情,一切情意,尽在不言 中。夕阳下的剪影,逐渐融合。 --全剧终一- 番外结尾 绿杨烟外晓寒轻,红杏枝头春意 闹。城东的杏林里,一座修葺的很好 却没有刻碑的墓。墓碑前,放了些新鲜 的花束和祭奠用品。 镜头拉起,从脚往上,江月楼和陈余 之入画。两人并肩站在墓碑前,望着玉 堂春的坟墓,默默怀念。 闪回,展君白死前一幕。 陈余之:他葬在何处? 展君白;城东. 杏林里..咳咳(咳 血).我没有刻碑,万一被人知晓了身 份,他受我连累,死后亦不得安宁。 闪回结束。 陈余之:我没有答应他的要求,若你 泉下有知,定然也是不愿的吧? 无人回答,风吹花落。 江月楼宽慰地揽住陈余之,摩挲了两 下脖颈;若你真答应帮他合葬在一起, 才是辱了玉老板。如今这样,已经很好 了。 江月楼说着,松开陈余之,回头看向 不远处的悬崖。悬崖之上,一座亦没有 刻字的孤坟。因为地势原因,孤坟处可 以看得到山下的杏林和玉堂春坟墓,而 孤坟则永远在玉堂春坟墓的背影里,不 会得到一丝一毫的余光。 陈余之回头望去,心情复杂,唱叹一 声。 江月楼;走了,余之,咱们回家。 夕阳染红了杏林的枝柳,江月楼、陈 余之并肩穿过杏林,讨论的余声时而传 来。 陈余之:月楼,你说,人有来生 吗? 江月楼深深看了眼陈余之:我不知 道,但我希望有。 陈余之笑了;就算有,喝了孟婆汤, 大抵也是相逢不相识了。 江月楼:留个暗号,如何?若再遇 见,便不会错过了。 陈余之调侃:那岂不是生生世世都要 遇到你这家伙了? 江月楼醋意:这话听着,好像不怎么 愿意? 陈余之:若是你的话,我是愿意的。 江月楼深深感动,两人对视一笑,身 影消失在杏林深处。 山风料峭,展君白站在悬崖之上,却 并不觉得冷,他只是心冷。 展君白深深凝望着前面杏林里的一抹 背影,眼神明了又灭。 展君白喃喃:你说,人有来生吗? 山风吹啊吹,仿佛把这句话吹到了山 下人的耳朵里。 玉堂春面朝杏林,背向悬崖,眼中不 知怎的,微微泛起泪光,轻喃;我不知 道。 展君白;他们约了来生... 如果,我 们也有来生,一切,会不会不一样? 玉堂春余光微微往后看了眼,眼神挣 扎纠结,一声叹息;如果真有来生,我 希望,再也不要遇到你. 君白. 我希 望,生生世世,不复相见... 来自华为备忘录 " @ 直好好的