#I think that tag is from when I flunked my last semester of college???

[melodygatesauthor]

Chapter 1: The Awakening

prof!Steven Grant-Jake Lockley-Marc Spector X f!Reader

Edited by: @welcometostayingawake (she's the real MVP)

Mood Boards - Book Cover - Masterlist

Summary:

Doctor Steven Grant accepted a job as a professor at a prestigious college in New England. While you're on your way to your first history class in your second semester of your junior year, you run into an attractive English man at the coffee shop. The two of you hit it off, and since you're both headed in the same direction upon leaving, you decide to walk together. You're both excited to have met someone you have clear chemistry with right off the bat until...you realize that you both were headed to the same building, and that he's your new history professor.

When you discover that there's even more to this man than meets the eye, things get even more complicated than you could've imagined. Loving one man who's almost twice your age in a place where your relationship is forbidden is hard enough, nevermind three.

Chapter Summary:

It's your first day of class, and you meet a nice guy at the coffee shop on your way in. Too bad when you find out he's just out of reach.

Tags/Summary (these are for the ENTIRE fic):

college AU, no powers/not in MCU/no Khonshu, talk of mental illness, Marc has DID, forbidden relationship, age gap, reader is 21y/o, Boys are 38y/o, reader attends college in America but isn't necessarily American, smut, sex, masturbation, p in v, creampies galore, reader is on birth control, dubious consent due to identity issues, ANGST, romance, fluff and smut, oral sex, falling in love, reader is not race coded.

Word Count: 3.8k

It was the first day of the semester and you were already looking forward to it being over. With the holidays out of the way, you should be feeling refreshed and ready for the second half of your junior year, but when the sun beat through your dorm room and directly into your eyes, in combination with your screeching alarm, you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed. Your roommate was stirring on the other side of the room in her own bed, and you were sure she felt the same.

Coming back from winter break was never easy. You had to get used to a new schedule, and leave behind the laziness of gorging on food and festivities with your family. You picked up your phone and turned off the alarm with a groan before flopping back over on the mattress. It was only 7:15am.

Layla grumbled into her pillow. “I don’t want to go.”

“Yeah, me neither.” You agreed, throwing your blanket off in a huff.

“What class do you have first?”

“History with… Dr. Grant, I think.” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, he’s the new professor who came over from England I think.” She sighed and got out of bed.

Her dark curls were a mess and bouncing all around her as she walked over to the small mirror in the wardrobe and picked something out of her teeth. You remembered hearing there was a new professor for this history course after the last one got kicked out for having inappropriate relations with a student, but you had forgotten the name of the replacement until now. History wasn’t really your strong suit anyway.

“My parents told me I have to ask him for tutoring.” You said, picking some clothes out of your drawer. “I flunked last year.”

“I remember.” She said with a hair elastic in her teeth while she pulled her curls back into a messy bun.

You got yourself dressed, put a little makeup on and finished getting ready. The air outside was chilly, and you pulled your coat tightly over yourself. You stopped in at Moonbean Coffee to get your usual pick-me-up before your first class. One of the perks of an open campus was the luxury of grabbing a real coffee before spending hours in a lecture.

The line in front of you was fortunately short, only one person stood between you and the barista. You noticed the man in front of you fumbling around in the pockets of his gray jacket. He let out a sound in frustration.

“Bollocks.” He said under his breath, patting himself down. “I think I left my wallet…”

He looked panicked, and you felt bad, having been in that position before. You decided it was time to do your good samaritan act of the day and you pulled your own wallet out of your bag.

“Here.” You reached around the man and handed the woman at the register a bill.

The man turned to you and his lips curled into a big smile. His tired eyes looked you up and down. You took note of his disheveled appearance. He clearly needed his drink as badly as you did.

“Oh! You don’t have to do that, I’m just-erm…I don’t have to have it.” He said, clearly anxious from your kind gesture. You took note of his thick English accent.

You shrugged and smiled at him comfortingly, “I’d die without my morning coffee. Don’t worry about it.”

“Good morning…” the barista said your name.

“Morning, T.” You said as she got started on your usual drink.

The man still stood there to the side. “That really was very kind of you. Very sweet.” He sipped the cup. “Oh bugger.” He cursed. “That’s hot.” A small chuckle escaped him.

You giggled. “Don’t mention it. I’ve been there, done that.”

His gaze lingered on you, lips still curled in a cheeky grin. He gasped when his wrist buzzed. He looked at it quickly.

“Oh, I really have to get goin’. You come here often, yeah?” He asked, looking at you eagerly.

“Y-yeah, I do.” T handed you your coffee as you handed her another bill and told her to keep the change.

Following him to the door, he opened it for you, letting you out first before exiting as well.

“Good, maybe I’ll catch you another time then, I’ll getcha back.” He nodded. “Alright then. Bye!”

“Yeah, sounds good!” You smiled foolishly at him, “bye.” You waved before realizing he was walking the same direction you were going.

He let out a laugh as you kept pace with him. “Well of course we’re walkin’ the same way. That’s not awkward at all.”

You chuckled, “Well, you can make it up to me now then, walking alone can be boring.”

When you saw the way he looked at you, your stomach fluttered. You’d seen that look before. He was interested in you. The man was clearly older than you, but you didn’t care. He was good looking, and judging by his messy curls, gentle gaze and overall demeanor, he was just your type.

“Alright sure, yeah, I can do that.” He said eagerly.

You introduced yourself. “…what’s your name?”

“Oh, name’s Steven, with a V.”

The two of you started walking in the direction of the building your class would be held in.

“So, Steven, clearly you’re not from around here, what brings you to a small college city like this?” You sipped your warm drink while the two of you walked through the chilly September air, not wanting to rush.

“Well, a job, actually.” He sipped from his cup, too, this time not flinching at the temperature.

“Oh, what do you do for work?” You asked, realizing you were approaching the brick building where your class was held all too quickly. You wished it was just a little further so you could get just another moment with Steven.

He stopped in front of the building, as if he knew you were stopping there before you told him your destination.

“I’m a history professor. This is my stop actually! Sorry, not a long walking partner.” His friendly and naive smile was about to fade when he realized the awful irony of the situation you were both in.

It hit you like a truck, “a-are you…Dr. Grant?” You asked, brows stitched together as your heart dropped into your stomach.

It made sense now: the English accent, out of place in a New England college city, the messy hair, the messenger bag and binder of notes that you just then took notice of. It should’ve been obvious from the moment you met him, everything about his appearance screamed ‘college professor’.

For some reason, this felt awkward. It was obvious just in the short time you’d known this man that you both were somewhat attracted to one another. Not that it was serious, of course, but there was an undeniable flirtatious air surrounding the whole encounter. The way he looked at you, and the way you looked at him, sharing timid smiles between promises of coffee, it was plain as day.

Now, he was shifting awkwardly in front of you as you were tapping the paper cup in your hand deep in thought. There was nothing wrong with buying your new professor a cup of coffee when he forgot his wallet, and there was nothing wrong with your new professor walking his student to class. You were both walking the same way anyway.

“Erm…yeah, yup.” You could see him trying to shake off the fog, the fantasy you both had entertained for the two minute walk.

“Well, that’s so ironic.” You tried to push past it, hoping it would help diffuse the new tension. “I’m in your class.”

He nodded despondently, his dark circled eyes looking to the ground to avoid your gaze. He hastily opened the door for you, and you thanked him as you walked in. You were stiff as a board as you made your way inside the classroom. Even though there was really nothing wrong with the interaction you’d had, something felt maddeningly nerve wracking about the whole situation.

You took a seat somewhere in the middle next to someone you remembered seeing around in other classes last semester, but never remembered her name. You hoped Dr. Grant would take you sitting in the middle table as a way of saying, “that whole interaction was totally normal, not awkward at all, see? I’m sitting in the middle instead of all the way in the back corner to avoid you.” You silently hoped the message translated.

You pulled your laptop out of your bag. You opened it and peered over the top. Dr. Grant’s eyes were stuck on you for a second while he shuffled the papers on his desk before he nervously looked away and sat down. 

You tried to look at anything other than him, but you couldn’t help stealing glances at him over the top of your screen. He put his laptop on his desk and opened it. You watched him inconspicuously as he put his jacket around the back of his chair and he pulled out a pair of glasses, placing them on his face. They made him look older, but you didn’t think it made him any less attractive. In fact, you liked the way they looked. You quickly shook the thought from your head.

You need to stop this, you’re acting ridiculous, you told yourself.

“Alright, well.” He stood up, let out a deep exhale, and put the glasses back on the table. The final students were trickling in. “I’m Dr. Grant, but you can all call me Steven. Dr. Grant is a bit formal, innit?” He chuckled, but the rest of the class remained silent. “Alright.” He rubbed his hands together nervously.

You felt bad, seeing him clearly trying to connect with the uncaring class. He messed idly with his dark blue tie before patting it down and clearing his throat.

“Well, I won’t start us off with anything too flashy today. It is the first day after all.” He began.

The lecture was a couple of hours, but Dr. Grant made it feel like it was much shorter than that. He was like a completely different person than the anxious man you’d met at the cafe. He was excited, smiling and full of energy while he taught the first lesson. To see someone so passionate about something sparked excitement and admiration inside you, even if the subject itself wasn’t your strong suit.

The amount of times he said, ‘I mean, wow’, was surprising and more than a little endearing. He certainly had a way of making a topic that you weren’t very adept in much more interesting just from his own enthusiasm. As he was wrapping up the lecture, you checked the clock. 10:20am. Your next class wasn’t until 1:00pm, leaving you plenty of time to talk to him about tutoring. Only tutoring, you reminded yourself.

You felt anxious though, standing there after the last student left. You clutched your satchel to your side like your life depended on it. He didn’t notice you at first, because you’d started to walk away with the crowd, trying to decide if you were even going to ask him to tutor you or not, but then you remembered your father’s words. I’m not paying for you to waste your time in school, you already picked a meaningless major, the least you can do is get decent grades.

You stepped up to his desk and cleared your throat. He peered up over his reading glasses and jumped when he saw you.

“Oh, erm, hi, class is dismissed.” He said anxiously, so different from the person speaking with utmost confidence to fifty or more students just a few minutes ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you started, “I know, I just needed to talk to you about something.”

He started getting nervous, you could see sweat beading on his forehead above his strong eyebrows. If someone asked you why you were so anxious about asking your new history professor to tutor you, you’d tell them you had no idea, but deep down you knew it was because the two of you definitely had a weird connection at the coffee shop.

“Oh, is this about…it’s about the coffee, yeah? I really-”

“N-no, Dr. Grant-“

“Steven.” He corrected you.

“S-Steven.” You cleared your throat once again. “No, I’m, uh, I’m not worried about the coffee. I need to ask for tutoring.”

He pressed a hand to his chest in relief, “Oh, heh, right, yeah, ‘course.” A large smile on his face. 

He felt the connection, too, you thought, and he’s relieved you didn’t bring it up.

“Well, there’s plenty of other students around who do that, yeah? Maybe go to the library, I think that’s where you sign up for something like that.” You didn’t know what it was about this man that captivated you, but when his eyes locked on to yours you felt your stomach twist in yearning.

“Um…yeah.” You were wearing a faint smile while accepting his rejection. “Yeah, I guess I can try that. They didn’t have anyone last semester, but maybe they will this time. Thanks.”

It was probably for the best that he didn’t tutor you, judging by his reaction, and that’s not even considering if the connection was real and you hadn’t just made it up. You gave him a friendly nod and turned on your heel toward the exit. Just as you were grabbing the door handle, Steven spoke up.

“Wait, hold on.” He said, standing up. You turned to him. “They probably aren’t very good anyway, the students they have tutoring. Why don’t you come by after your last class on Wednesday? Not sure why time you get finished, but I can make something work.”

“M-my last class on Wednesday gets over at like seven.” You explained.

He shrugged, “M’sure my goldfish will be alright if I get home a bit later than usual.”

“Wow, okay, brilliant, yes Dr. G-uh-Steven!” You couldn’t contain your toothy grin as you thanked him profusely and left.

You felt like you were in a trance for the rest of the day. You’d thought that by not having Steven in your direct line of sight you’d be able to move on from the feeling in your gut, but it only festered. He was occupying your mind. The way he laughed, the way he talked, the way he looked at you, it was maddening.

You kept thinking about his messy hair, wondering what it would feel like to run your fingers through it. When he got nervous just from looking at you, straightening his tie, you wondered what it would look like to have him loosening it, maybe unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. His eyes are what really captivated you, he looked exhausted, but they still shined so brightly when he looked at you, before he’d realized that you were his student.

When you got back to your dorm and turned in for the night, you took it upon yourself to look up your college’s specific rules around student and teacher relationships. Even though the last history professor got fired, you were trying to convince yourself now that there had to be a different reason. There just had to be.

There wasn’t a different reason though. The rules were plain as day: student and professor relationships were a no go. No one seemed to care what happened when you graduated, but until then, it was strictly forbidden. There was even talk in some resources you found about the student being expelled since they are, after all, a consenting adult who knew the consequences of their actions.

With that, it was time to lay your growing need to put yourself in Steven’s presence as much as possible to rest. At least, you wanted to. You couldn’t though, while you lay there in the dark, with Layla snoring on the other side of the room. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he looked you up and down, his hooded eyes drinking you in, the way he exuded confidence to the class, and then became shy around you immediately after. 

Your hand trailed down under your pajama bottoms to your already soaking folds, slick with your desire to know what else Steven was proficient in. You thought about his hands around the coffee cup earlier, how big they looked, veins rippling under the skin when he brought the cup to his lips. You wondered what they felt like, what one of his thick fingers would feel like inside of you. Slipping one of your own fingers inside wasn’t enough, you wanted more, you wanted to feel him.

You wished that you could fit a second finger inside, but it was too tight. You felt hot with need as you pumped in and out of your slick hole, imagining Steven hovering over you. He would tell you how wrong it was to be doing what you were doing as he trailed his hands up your ribcage and to your breasts. Would he moan loudly when he came, or would he be quiet but breathy, pressing his face into the nape of your neck to muffle his sound?

You didn’t know much about sex, not outside of porn that is. You’d done other things before. You’d tried going down on someone, but had a hard time figuring out how to do it right, at least according to the guy you were with. He had tried eating you out, but you found it was either very overrated, or he was really bad at it.

Thinking about those things made you wonder what Dr. Grant’s cock tasted like, or what it felt like. If you couldn’t even fit two fingers, you weren’t sure how you were going to manage to take him. Just thinking about it was making your arousal become unbearable. You needed him, badly, no matter how wrong you knew it was.

You could hardly take it, feeling your orgasm approaching as you fingered yourself to thoughts of your history professor. You decided you didn’t really care what he sounded like when he came, you just ached to hear him. It almost hurt how hard you bit your lip when your cunt clamped in waves over your lone digit. Your breathing was heavy, and when you felt clarity once more, you fell back onto your pillow. You had to let it go, you had to get over him somehow.

But Steven had to get over you, too. 

When he got home that night after a long day of classes, he found himself standing in front of his mirror. It had been so long since he’d heard their voices. At least a couple of months. They said they wouldn’t come back, they said they would stay in the headspace, and that they wouldn’t say a word. They hadn’t said anything specific yet, but he could hear them becoming more active since that morning.

That wasn’t the only thing bothering him, the thought of you danced in his mind. You were there, causing his heart to race; causing him to feel a pang of guilt that was vastly outweighed by the arousal building behind his zipper. He had been fighting the pressure all day, fighting the heady thoughts. Steven liked to think he was mentally stronger than the primal desires that came with sex, but just seeing you in that coffee shop that morning, and the way you looked at him, it kept playing in his head over and over again like a movie.

It got to a point that he couldn’t bear the ache any longer. He took off his pants and boxer-briefs, freeing his weeping erection. He crawled into bed, not even bothering to remove his jacket or shirt, as he was too eager. Nothing had inspired him to relieve himself like this in a long, long time. He crawled into bed and laid down on his back, taking his cock into his closed fist.

Dry…s’dry, need some…

He leaned up, spitting a glob of saliva into his palm before going back to work on himself. He gripped his length, sliding over it with his fist much easier now, tossing his head back as he reached the tip. He ran his hand through his curls to get them out of his face, looking down at his cock while he thrust upward into his fingers.

“F-fu…” He said, trembling slightly.

He kept thinking about you, your hair, your sweet lips, the way you giggled when he burned himself on his hot coffee that morning. He whined, reaching down to grab the sheet at his side. He exhaled sharply, continuing to glide into his palm smoothly, increasing speed as he got even closer. The way your face lit up when he agreed to tutor you was etched into his memory.

So young, though…he thought, too young…

It didn’t stop him from bringing his hand back to his mouth, adding more saliva to continue jerking his length. He was putting his hips into it now, imagining what it would be like to have you, just for a second he let himself go there in his mind. He thought about having you on top of him, legs on either side of his hips. You, lowering yourself over his cock, taking him all the way to the hilt. Another whine escaped him. You were so pretty, he imagined looking up at you, maybe you’d bite your lip and throw your head back with a moan. Maybe you’d grab your breast, pinching the nipple, maybe you’d tell him how good he felt inside of you. That’s all it took. He filled the apartment with his moans as he coated his fingers and abdomen in hot sticky cum.

Steven’s brain was empty, other than thoughts of you that still plagued him. He’d hoped that by doing this, it would help him let it go, but now he wished you were there for different reasons. You were so bubbly and full of energy. He wanted to talk to you, he wanted to learn more about you, get to know what else makes you laugh.

With a heavy sigh, Steven slid off the bed, careful to keep his cum coated fingers from touching anything. He turned on the light in the bathroom and started rinsing his hands in the sink, finishing and grabbing a towel. When he started drying his hands, his eyes looked up into the mirror again. 

His heart stopped. He waved at himself, checking to make sure his reflection kept up. They said they weren’t coming back…

Next Chapter

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[daechwitatamic]

Chapter 5: Childish || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: What Was Hidden (Masterpost)

Rating: explicit, minors DNI pls

Genre: college!au, angst, eventual smut, strangers -> friends -> lovers -> idiots -> lovers

Pairings: Taehyung x female reader, MYG x OC

Summary:  This is how it all starts: Taehyung is flunking Western Lit. You’re assigned to tutor him. His paper on Strindberg’s The Ghost Sonata could pass or fail him for the semester. As you and Taehyung slowly become friends, then more, you learn that there’s a lot more to him than you originally assumed. Together, you navigate your own experiences with the play’s themes: one’s “true self” versus one’s “shown self”, darkness behind the facade, and how people can be quite literally haunted - and it has nothing to do with ghosts.

//

In which you and Taehyung address what happened at movie night.

Chapter Warnings: language, kissing, bad rap lyrics… listen i tried my best ok

Word Count: 3.8k

Note: This is a duplicate of Chapter 5. Apologies if you already interacted with the first version - it wasn't showing up in searched tags. The Ghost Post for Chapter 5 is here.

I saw the sun and thought I saw what was hidden The Ghost Sonata | Scene III August Strindberg

Chapter 5: Childish

Sunday, November 18th

In the morning, Kiko’s bed is empty, so you text her, “Good morning???”

Instead of answering you with words, she sends you a Soundcloud link titled, Sirens [DEMO]  - MYG ft K!k0.

[9:02 AM] Kiko✌️: sry for bailing on the movie but we finished this

You scramble for your earpods, eagerly starting the track. The beat starts, fast and angry, and then Yoongi’s rapping starts.

All these months at sea have got me seeing shit I close my eyes and take an even bigger hit Your siren call has got my fucking guard up These last six months I’ve been so fucking hard up Snared by your beauty as you pass by Your siren song is just another goddamn lie I have heard you singing, each to each You’ve always been just outside my reach Part of me wants to let you drag me down Til human voices wake us and we fucking drown I’m powerless to fight it, I refuse to try Your siren song is just another goddamn lie

The chorus starts, and you hear Kiko for the first time. Her voice comes in sweet and steady, definitely her, haunting as it traverses the minor key.

“Holy shit,” you say out loud, pulling out your earpods and scrambling up the ladder to Bridget’s top bunk. She whines in complaint as you scoot in next to her, poking her arm.

“Wake up, you have to hear this,” you tell her. “Look at our baby go!”

[9:10 AM] You: omg omg omg that’s so good i literally woke b up to listen to it too

[9:11 AM] You: she hates me but she loves the track

[9:12 AM] You: your VOICE iasnfoiajefjef 

[9:14 AM] Kiko✌️: thaaaanks 🥺🥺🥺

[9:16 AM] You: if he gets famous w that hes gonna get a cease and desist letter from Eliot’s people lmaooo

[9:19 AM] Kiko✌️: ????

[9:20 AM] You: ts eliot? the poem?

[9:22 AM] You: ‘i have heard them singing, each to each’

[9:23 AM] You: ‘til human voices wake us and we drown’

[9:24 AM] You: they’re from that longass ts eliot poem idr the name of it

[9:25 AM] You: hold on im looking it up

You send her the link to The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock and click your screen off. 

“You think he wrote that about her?” Bridget muses, eyes still closed.

“No way,” you say. “You’d have to have some serious audacity to ask a girl to feature vocals on a track you wrote about trying to resist her charms…”

“Maybe he has a lot of audacity,” she murmurs. 

You kick your way under her blankets - your feet are freezing - and put your earpods back in, turning your screen back on to listen to it again.

Monday, November 19th

Monday brings sunshine, even if it is freezing cold. You’re leaving your final class, your laptop bag heavy on your shoulder, when a phone call comes in from Bianca.

“Hey, Y/N,” she says when you pick up. “I figured this would be easier than emailing back and forth five times. I’m trying to reschedule your session with Taehyung. Are you feeling better?”

“Oh,” you say, stomach dropping. Good, now that you and Taehyung aren’t speaking you can spend an extra hour alone with him! “Yeah, I’m all better. Thanks.”

“Great,” she says. “Can you do tomorrow morning? I know it’s kind of late notice,” she says apologetically.

“I’d have to be done by ten for class,” you tell her. 

Bianca schedules you for nine the next morning, and tells you she’ll email you both to confirm. 

You’re at dinner with Bridget that night when Taehyung texts you about it.

[7:55 PM] Taehyung: hi. Would you be okay with doing tutoring at the coffee shop tmrw instead of the library

[7:56 PM] Taehyung: i have class at 10 and its closer to the academic buildings

You wave your foot around in discomfort. You hate knowing you hurt his feelings. He’s obviously upset, or this would’ve been a facetime call. 

[7:59 PM] You: yep. See you at 9.

He doesn’t answer.

Tuesday, November 20th

When you reach the cafe in the morning, Taehyung’s already in a booth, books open on the table. You pause at the edge of the table, and he looks up at you, but doesn’t say anything.

“Morning,” you said uneasily. “I’m gonna get in line and order my coffee, and then we can start?”

“Sure,” he says, and goes right back to highlighting the Strindberg text. 

You frown, crossing your arms. “Is this how it’s going to be for the whole hour? Are you even going to speak to me?”

“If I need help with the work,” he allows, eyes still on the text.

“Taehyung,” you say, frustrated, “don’t be childish -.”

“I’m being childish?” he echoes, eyebrows raising indignantly. “You started the cold shoulder shit just because I dared hang out with a friend when we -.”

When we… aren’t anything in the first place. You know that’s the end of the sentence. You know that’s the truth. There was nothing between you two but potential, but that had spoiled now. You don’t wait for the end of the sentence. You turn on your heel to leave.

“Wait,” he says quickly, and reaches for your hand, holding your fingers tightly. “I’m sorry. Don’t leave.”

You stand there, his fingers still clutching yours, frozen. His hand is warm on yours, his eyes intense, and you feel like he could just tug you right down there next to him with very little effort. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “Let’s just… I’ll work on the paper. Let’s just… work.”

You don’t really have a choice. You’re contracted for an hour. Pursing your lips, you set your bag on the empty bench. 

“I’m going to order my coffee,” you tell him quietly, and he nods, finally dropping your hand. When you return, you settle in and get your laptop running. 

“Okay,” you say, eager to put the arguing behind you and get to work. “What step of the paper are you on? Isn’t it due this week?”

“Yeah, by Friday at midnight,” he tells you. “I’m just done taking my notes for the disillusionment theme and then I can start typing it up.”

“How can I help today?” you ask.

He frowns, sliding the Strindberg text between you. “I was looking at his last little bit here,” he says, pointing with his capped highlighter. “I saw the sun and thought I saw what was hidden - I was going to write about the word thought - like, he thought he knew what was there, he thought he was seeing something hidden that was beautiful and good. Like, he saw the darkness behind the facade, but then the sun shone on this spot and he thought that behind the darkness there was still something good… but he was wrong.”

“Tae,” you say, quietly. 

He gives you a warning look. “Don’t,” he says. “Focus on the paper. Am I onto something worth putting in the paper?”

“Yeah,” you say, begrudgingly. “It’s good.”

He nods and writes something down in the notebook he has open next to the text. When he’s done, he opens his laptop and gets typing away. You drop your eyes, focus on your coffee. 

He types for about fifteen minutes and you don’t talk as he works. When you hear the sound of clicking keys stop, you glance up to see if he needs to be reminded to focus, as he asked.

But instead of looking distracted - out the window, or at his phone - he’s looking at you. He’s pouting, lips protruding, and it’s so fucking cute that it makes you feel angry.

“What?” you snap, but you’re fighting a smile. 

“I can’t stand that you’re mad at me,” he admits. “I should have told you I had a girl at the house, that it was a friend. I’m sorry. I know that we aren’t… y’know… but if I’d run into you with a guy like that I think I’d…” He trails off, half-formed thoughts tripping him up. “It would have felt bad. And I did not mean to make you feel bad.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “You can do whatever you want. You owe me nothing. I shouldn’t have gotten upset. I was trying to be chill about it and just… failing miserably.”

“You don’t send someone homemade soup and then show up with another girl,” he says, shaking his head. “I screwed up.”

“You didn’t,” you tell him gently. “It’s fine. I’d like it if we just… moved on.”

–

By the time your hour is up, Taehyung has finished typing most of the paper. You make him promise to finish it and send it to you to look over before your normal Wednesday morning session tomorrow.

You gather up your things and wait as Taehyung does the same. Once you’re both ready, you turn and walk towards the door; you both have class right after, and you’re in a bit of a hurry to make it on time. 

The line of students trying to grab a coffee before the ten o’clock classes start is quite long, reaching almost to the door. And at the end of it stands Davis.

You drop your eyes quickly, as if seeing him would make him more likely to see you. You scrunch down into your sweater, hiking your bag higher on your shoulder, and pick up your pace. 

Taehyung is suddenly beside you instead of behind you, his arm around your shoulders, pulling you tightly up against him as you walk side by side. He’s warm and solid against you, and you feel the tight fist that had been wrapping itself around your lungs release a little bit. It just feels instantly… safer. You keep your eyes down, but you feel Taehyung turn to look at Davis as you pass by. He reaches forward to open the door, and you step through together.

“Thanks,” you mutter, still watching the very fascinating pavement. 

“You have to stop running from him,” he tells you seriously. “He’s garbage, and you’re…”

You’re what?

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t let him get to you like that,” he amends. 

You scuff your sneaker along the path. “Which way are you going?” you ask him. 

“Pastorino Building,” he tells you, pointing.

“Me too.”

When he holds out his hand for you, you take it. 

--

[11:44 AM] Taehyung: you finally took me off of read, huh?

[11:52 AM] You: ???

[11:54 AM] Taehyung: insta

[11:56 AM] You: lol oh

[11:57 AM] You: yeah u earned it i guess

[12:00 PM] Taehyung: “i guess” o ok then 🙄

--

[12:11 PM] Nina💕: y is ur new man messing with Davis????

[12:14 PM] You: 100% honesty, i have nooooo idea what ur talking abt

[12:16 PM] Nina💕: walking around campus giving him dirty looks nd shit, real mature

[12:19 PM] You: omfg. i need everyone to grow the fuck up pls. 

[12:20 PM] You: knowing davis and knowing taehyung, i’d guess they saw each other ONCE and if tae didn’t smile then davis went and cried like a fucking baby 

It’s almost twelve hours later, after you’re in bed working on getting sleepy, that you realize that Nina had said “your new man” and you’d done nothing to refute this.

Fuck.

Wednesday, November 21st

You’re - stupidly - excited for your tutoring hour on Wednesday morning. You don’t know what is starting with you and Taehyung, but something is. But when you arrive at eleven on the dot, he’s not there. He’s still not there five minutes later, and you shoot him a quick text - “we on for tutoring?” 

Two minutes later, he comes up behind you, practically panting, a paper travel mug in each hand.

“Sorry,” he says, “I was already running a minute or two late because the line was so long, and then I got here and I couldn’t open the door -.”

You crack up, reaching to take the cups from his hands and place them on the table. 

“Did you bring me coffee?” you ask accusingly, a smile creeping across your face.

“I’m still trying to make up for Saturday,” he says with a laugh, pulling out a chair on the other side of the table.

“You have already, and then some,” you tell him seriously.

“I hope I ordered it how you like it,” he says sheepishly.

“I’m not picky,” you assure him. “So, what are we working on today?”

“All business, huh? Even when I bring you coffee?” he teases, eyes crinkling. 

“I’m all business when I’m on the clock,” you agree. “Talk to me in fifty-three minutes and I can be more fun.”

“You’re fun anyway,” he says, eyeing you sideways as he takes out his laptop. “Anyway, I finished the paper last night. Can I send it to you now? Then I can start my Chekhov reading while you look it over?”

“That sounds perfect,” you tell him. “Chekhov, huh? Three Sisters?”

"Cherry Orchard," he corrects you.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” you tell him. “I’m excited to see what you think. I do like Three Sisters better, though, if I had to choose.”

“I don’t get to choose,” he says lightly. “I just sent you the paper, did you get it?”

“I’m surprised you even know how to use the school email,” you murmur without thinking, eyes on your screen, and you’re surprised when he laughs, one hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Sorry,” you laugh. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Oh, but it’s fine if you think it?” he challenges, raising one eyebrow. Something stirs in your stomach. 

“Shut up and do your reading,” you say, laughing, doing your best to ignore the flutter of attraction. 

When your hour is up, you walk together towards the cafeteria as you have on other Wednesday mornings. But instead of splitting up, Taehyung raises that eyebrow at you again, as if issuing a dare. 

“Want to sit together?” he asks.

You grin. “Yeah,” you say. “But you might have to deal with my roommates when they figure out I ditched them.”

Thursday, November 22nd

Thursday is cold, but the sun shines brightly, so you decide to walk at your trail between your morning class and your afternoon class. It’s too cold to sit on your bench for long, but at least the walk will give you some exercise, and some good thinking time. Your mind is disgustingly full of Taehyung - the easy back and forth you have, how shockingly different he is from your expectations, the fucking cute way he pouts as he eats, the sexy way he rolls his tshirt sleeves, the way his smile will start so tentatively and then blast full-wattage out of nowhere.  You walk quickly, the cold hitting you sharply, like a slap in the face, and you need it. It knocks some sense into you. You’re a fucking mess, and you feel a little out of control with it. 

You head back to your room to take a quick shower before your 2:30 class, opting to skip lunch. You haven’t eaten since breakfast, and you know you won’t be able to eat until tutoring ends at 7. You wonder if you’d be able to talk Taehyung into doing tutoring from the cafeteria.

You somehow manage to make it on time for Becky at 5:00, barely, but you’re starving by the time Taehyung plops down in the seat across from you.

You tell him hello absently, already digging in your bag for your wallet, ready to ask him if he’d mind doing tutoring somewhere with food.

“Oh, goddamn,” you murmur, shifting your laptop out of the way and scraping around the bottom of your bag.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks, peering at you.

“I can’t find my wallet,” you tell him, starting to take things out of the bag one by one. Then suddenly you freeze, your wide eyes meeting his across the table. “Oh shit,” you utter. “I think I dropped it at the trail.”

“The trail?” he echoes.

“The walking trails over at the nature preserve,” you clarify, still horrified. “I went walking there before class and I had my wallet with me then, and now that I’m thinking about it, I didn’t have it when I packed my bag for class.”

Taehyung looks at you, calculating. Then he nods and says, “Okay, so let’s go get it.”

“What?” you say, sure you misheard him. “Now? It’s dark. And freezing.”

He shrugs. “We’ll bundle up. It’ll be fun, like a little adventure.”

“Trespassing on closed trails in the dark - in snow temperatures - does not sound like an adventure,” you tell him. 

“Come on,” he goads. “What else are you going to do? You’re in classes until it’s dark tomorrow, you won’t be able to go look.”

You frown at him. “How do you know my class schedule?”

“I pay attention,” he says, waving a hand at you, like this is insignificant. “So? We’ll use our phones and follow where you walked. It could still be there.” 

You stop to consider it. You could just consider it a loss - freeze your credit card, replace your drivers license. Or you could wait and see if anyone turned it into the police or campus security. Surely, this isn’t so pressing that you need to go now.

But.

But, going for a nighttime walk with Taehyung - even if it is fucking cold out - does sound kind of exciting. 

“What about tutoring?” you ask, resolve crumbling.

“We’ll talk about Ibsen the whole time,” he says, already starting to pack up his bag. “Come on, there’s a parking lot at the trailhead, I’ll drive us over.”

There are no other cars in the lot when you park - probably because the whole nature preserve closes at sundown, which was about three hours ago. Taehyung turns off the car and you both get out, turning the flashlights on your phones on. You guide him to the trail you took, and walk in silence for a few minutes, beams crisscrossing the trail as you go.

“I turned my paper in yesterday,” he tells you. You’re shivering a little, searching the edge of the path. “Two days early. Do I get extra points for being early?”

“No,” you tell him flatly. “But yours will be one of the first she grades. I’m excited to see her feedback.”

“She’ll probably think I cheated,” Taehyung laughs. 

“No,” you disagree. “It definitely still sounded like you wrote it. Your voice came through.”

He looks at you across the path, only a silhouette from your phones illuminating patches on the ground. In the dark, you can’t make out his face at all, can’t read his eyes or his expression. 

“You did a good job,” you reassure him again. “It was well written.”

“Thanks,” he says finally. 

You walk in silence a little longer. You can’t see anything except the small circle on the ground from your phone, and it’s eerie. You’re glad Taehyung is with you, but you’re half tempted to step closer to him, to walk in his wake instead of on your own. You shiver again, your face aching from the cold, your fingers going numb. 

This was probably a dumb idea. 

You reach your bench and you hurry over, sure that if your wallet fell out of your pocket it would have been while you were seated. Sure enough, you find it under the bench, in a small tuft of dead grass. It occurs to you that Taehyung is here in your most sacred thinking spot, but you’d never brought Davis here even though you’d been dating for almost two whole school years as students here.

“Got it!” you cheer, turning to find Taehyung by the location of his phone’s light.

He comes up next to you, putting his hands on your upper arms. You’re still shivering slightly.

“You cold?” he murmurs, and you’ve never heard that tone of voice on him before. It’s low, almost guttural, and your body responds to it immediately, the blood rushing away from your head. 

“Mhm,” you say, not trusting yourself to try and form words. 

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in, and you lean in, soaking in his warmth. This is fine - this is nice - but then he moves a hand to gently tip your chin up and leans in to kiss you. His lips are soft against yours, but his kiss isn’t. As soon as he can feel you kissing him back, he reaches both arms around you again, tugging you tight against him as your lips crash together. 

You manage to sneak a hand out of his tight embrace and curl your fingers through the wavy hair at the nape of his neck; you tug just a little and his mouth opens for yours, a tiny groan escaping him as if against his will as his tongue touches yours for the first time.

Everything about the kiss is slow but purposeful, intense in its lack of frantic energy. He kisses you like he’s got his whole life to keep it up, like there’s no reason to rush when he can take it this slow and feel everything, notice everything, love everything that you do.

You bring one freezing hand up to touch his jaw, your thumb rubbing a gentle line along the bone, and he shivers under your touch. He moves to tangle one hand in your hair, and suddenly it’s an entirely different kiss, all the energy and aggression that he seemed to be holding back earlier now bursting forth.

You appreciate the variety.

You release his hand and clutch the front of his zippered winter coat, pulling him closer, though it doesn’t seem possible. You want him closer. You want him to kiss you for a hundred more hours. 

He nips your bottom lip and you whimper without meaning to; he groans again in response to this, moving to kiss a line down your jaw and down to your neck. The air is instantly freezing in the wake of his hot mouth, and you shudder in his hands. 

When he finally pulls away, leaning back to look at your flushed face, he asks, “How about now?”

You laugh, once, and whack him in the chest. “A little better,” you admit. 

He presses his forehead to yours and inhales deeply. “I would like to do that again without the puffy winter coats on,” he tells you.

You laugh again, stepping back a little bit. “Okay,” you tell him. “I think that can be arranged.” 

Next

Thank you so much for being here! I appreciate every single like, reblog, dm, ask, or reply!

As always, a million thanks to @kookstempo for being an expert turkey-wrangler and also for beta-ing!

#taehyung x reader #taehyung fic #dailydaegu #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #bts fic #bts fanfic #college au #s2l #f2l #bts x reader #taehyung smut #(but not in this chapter for full disclosure) #fic: what was hidden

[metalheadcowboy]

I posted 3,472 times in 2021

1938 posts created (56%)

1534 posts reblogged (44%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.8 posts.

I added 5,731 tags in 2021

#stranger things - 1640 posts

#steve harrington - 1054 posts

#billy hargrove - 959 posts

#harringrove - 813 posts

#tyler talks - 544 posts

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Longest Tag: 137 characters

#like shot i’m failing half my classes someone tell me to delete my tumble so i don’t spend mindless hours on here when i need to be dobig

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

330 notes • Posted 2021-01-24 13:07:20 GMT

#4

Steve replacing all his family photos on the mantle with various pictures of him and the kids, one of Joyce kissing his cheek, a blurry one Tommy quickly took of Hopper holding his head, smooshing his cheek against the hood of his patrol car after breaking up a fight between him and Billy, and then a polaroid selfie taken later that day of a beaten and battered Steve lying in bed smiling like an idiot, mid laugh, while a bushy head of dusty blonde curls is pressed against his shoulder.

And later added, a picture Max took of him dead asleep on the couch, ’penis’ scribbled across his forehead in sharpie with Billy squatting next to him, scrunching his nose and sticking his tongue out in victory.

338 notes • Posted 2021-05-28 03:39:53 GMT

#3

GMM Ep. 1214

365 notes • Posted 2021-02-14 21:28:37 GMT

#2

Stevie’s in denial...

411 notes • Posted 2021-02-10 15:49:11 GMT

#1

I just know Mr. Harrington is the kind of parent to give the “It’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve“ talk when Steve comes out to him.

667 notes • Posted 2021-07-24 22:58:39 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

(Click the links to see gif sets in full!)

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #Tyler Talks #All this says about me is I like to talk and made a few okay gif sets in the beginning of the year lmao #but hey!! #another year almost down! #Stranger Things #mostly #I think that tag is from when I flunked my last semester of college??? #not sure lmai #fml lmao

[write-orflight]

No Sympathy From The Devil

**Gif Not Mine**

Read Part 2: The Devil in the details here

Pairings: Matt Murdock X f!Reader (Enemies to lovers enemies that fuck

Rating: M

Words: 2.6K

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+, Sexual content, penetration, oral sex, choking kink, degradation. some other stuff i cant remember.

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary:  College AU!! Matt Murdock finds himself in the dilemma of helping the rich girl study

A/N: This summary is ass and Idk how to describe what I wrote. plus its 5 AM and I’m dying. this is unedited because I’m tired. but it’s just porn. there will be a part 2 so reply and inbox if you wanna be tagged. 

Columbia wasn’t your first choice in school. Hell, it wasn’t even your second choice. In fact if you had a choice, you wouldn’t be in school at all. It wasn’t like you needed to go anyway. Your destiny was to be a housewife and you knew the only way to get an Ivy League husband was to go to an Ivy League school yourself. 

At least, that’s what Matt thought about you. Every time he heard you in classes, or walking around the quad or laughing with friends in the dining hall, he couldn’t help but think ‘why were you there?’ as far as he knew, you were not particularly smart. You made everything into a joke, which was a trait his best friend and roommate, Foggy, had in common with you. But at least Foggy knew when to be serious, you did not have that trait. You were only wasting Daddy’s money being in here, you didn’t have to take it seriously. It was enough to make any self-respecting man who worked hard for his position hate you. 

And that self-respecting man was Matt. 

What he hated most though was how he was able to pick you out of any lineup. Even in his distaste for you, he could pick your heartbeat out of anyone’s, could smell the expensive french perfume on your neck all the way across the quad, could pick out her laugh in her large penthouse apartment that stood above Foggy and his small crappy one. 

Matt was just about to enter the small bar where he was meeting Foggy when he overheard the conversation. 

“Fog, come on, I’m dying here. I swear Mr. Cornwell just hates me, and I’m going to flunk this class if I don’t do something.” 

“Y/N I’m your TA! I’m not supposed to help you.” 

“Come on, Fog, who am I gonna tell?” Matt couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the seductive low register your voice entered and the uptick in Foggy’s heartbeat. You were playing him and obviously succeeding. “I’m not even asking to cheat, I just need a little help.”   

That’s when Matt decided to enter the bar and make his way over to his friend to save him from the siren in front of him. 

“You know I can’t, Y/N.” Foggy says, calling out when he sees Matt entering the bar. “But you know who can? My buddy, Matt, here who took Civics last semester and aced it.” 

You tried to remain neutral but if you asked Matt, the uptick in your heart as he sat down gave you away. He knew you didn’t particularly like him but he also knew that you wanted him. 

“Murdock.” You said, folding your arms. 

“L/N.” 

You go to pick up your bag. “Thanks for trying to help me, Fog. But I’d rather just figure it out myself. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She says putting down a bill that was probably way too large for her tab and walking out of the bar. 

Though Matt can’t see he can tell Foggy is mad at him. “Matt…” He says exasperated. 

“What?” 

“What do you mean ‘what?’ You were rude.” 

“I said one word!” Matt argued. 

“You know, I don’t know why you and Y/N hate each other but she really needs the help and you’re the one always talking about us needing to help people.”   

Matt would argue that he helps people, not princesses. But Foggy was right, it was a bit hypocritical. “Fine, give me her number.”  He says, exasperated. 

Foggy claps him on the shoulder. “Good man.” He says. Matt sighs, as he orders himself a drink, knowing he’ll need one. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------

You knew your life was easy. Didn’t mean you had to enjoy it. 

Your mother had died at a young age, your father was rich but aloof so you were mainly raised by money, gifts and the occasional bilingual nanny. You knew that when people looked at you they saw the snooty, socialite whose last name was on the newly renovated library but you also knew that wasn’t who you were. You were the girl who was alone on a friday night, elbow deep in ben and jerry’s, while subsequently avoiding your Civics homework. You were half-way into an episode of 90-Day fiance when you got a phone call from a strange number. 

“Hello?” You questioned. 

“It’s Matt. Don’t hang up.” You don’t know how he knew your finger was on the hang up button but you removed it for the sake of hearing him out. 

“What do you want, Murdock?” 

“Foggy told me you were struggling with Civics. So, if you want it, I could help you.” 

“You? Want to help me?” You ask, confused. You knew you weren’t the smartest but you knew when someone didn’t like you and Matt was one of those people. 

“Not really, but Foggy asked me to. Do you want the help or not?”   

You sigh. “Your place or mine?” 

After a short elevator trip, you find yourself in front of Matt and Foggy’s small apartment. Matt seems to open the door the second you knock, which was weird but you decided against saying anything. You brush past him and look around the quaint apartment. 

“It’s smaller than mine.” You say, mainly passively and to yourself but you don’t miss Matt’s annoyed tone. 

“Yea, this building’s not as nice as you thought it was. They even let low-lives like me live here.” He says, walking past you. You follow him into what seems to be his bedroom. 

“We’re studying in your room?” You ask. 

Matt nods. “Will that be an issue for you?” 

You shake your head before remembering he can’t see you. “No.” You say out loud but Matt doesn’t miss the uptick in your heartbeat. 

You take a moment to look around the room. It's quaint with black sheets, an organized desk with printed Braille pages scattered around, and a crucifix hanging above it all. 

“Religious?” You ask. 

“Catholic.” 

You hum, thinking. “I’m not really religious, wasn’t brought up in it I guess.” 

“Do you want to get started or not?” 

You sigh. “Forgot you’re not one for personal talk. Alright, let’s do this.” 

Matt proceeds to talk your ear off for 45 minutes about procedures and methods and all that good stuff that made you fall asleep in class. You try to keep up and take notes but somewhere around the 30 minute mark you start to slack and yawn. It’s about 40 minutes in when Matt stops hearing the faint scratching of your pen all together. 

“Do you even want to pass?” Matt asks, fuming. He doesn’t even know why he was doing this. Clearly you don’t care, you never cared. 

“What are you even talking about? Of course I want to pass, I need to pass this class.” You say, defensively.   

“What? Daddy threaten to take your allowance?” 

You are furious when you enter Matt’s personal space, finger inches from his face. “You don’t know shit about me, Murdock.” 

Matt snatches your hand from in front of his face, how he knew exactly where you were, you didn’t know but he held your wrist in a searing grip. “I know enough.” He says, the two of you are mere inches from each other now. “Prissy debutante who paid their way into a school that’s way above their merits suddenly realize for once they actually have to try at something. You’re a fucking spoiled brat!” Matt can hear your heart pounding angrily in your chest but that’s not the only thing he notices. He hears your tongue dart out to wet your lips, your thighs squeeze together slightly. God, he can even smell it. The want coming off you was almost palpable. 

You yank your hand out of Matt’s grasp. “This was a waste of my time. I’m leaving.” 

“Sit. Down.” Matt says, authoritatively. For some reason, you listen, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. Matt’s hand reaches up for your face. When he finds it, you feel his fingers slip down until he’s encasing your throat in his grasp. Not tight enough to hurt but tight enough to keep you stationary. When you walked in that night, you weren’t expecting this. You really came to study. But you knew as much as you disliked the man in front of you, you wanted him badly. You can’t help the whimper that falls out of your mouth when he squeezes around the base of your throat. Matt couldn’t focus on much else but the way your breath caught in your throat, the uptick of your heart, the smell of panties getting wetter. “You wanna act like a brat, I have no problems treating you like one.” 

“I-I, uh, I should go.” You say, Matt releases your throat in that moment, moving his hand to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“If you want to go, you can go. But I think we both know what you really want.” Matt says, only paying attention to your body language to make sure he wasn’t reading this wrong, that you actually wanted this, wanted him. So far he had been right. His hand finds that spot around your throat again before slightly tugging you towards him. Your lips meet in a frenzied fight for dominance that you were quickly losing. It wasn’t long until your back was hitting the mattress, your hands pinned by your sides. “I want you to take your clothes off, do you also want that?” Matt says, looking down at you in a husky voice. You nod, before remembering he can’t see and decide actions speak louder than words, moving to unbutton your top. 

Matt’s hands meet your waist before tugging harshly at the buttons of your designer jeans. You lift your hips to assist the man on top of you. Matt tugs your pants and underwear down in a fell swoop. You feel small, biting kisses up your legs until he reaches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You moaned at the feeling, rolling your eyes when you looked down and saw Matt’s cocky expression. The attitude you had suddenly melted when you felt the deep lick to your clit. Your hand goes flying up to rest in Matt’s messy hair, trying to squirm away from the attack. Matt tugs on your thighs with an almost bruising grip, making it clear you were not getting away from him. Matt licks into you like you are the last drop of water in the desert. You choke on as moan as you feel digits pressing into your entrance as his lips circled around your clit, suckling gently. You hear a faint groan from the man under you. You lean up slightly to see Matt pressing his lower half into the mattress as he consumes your heat. The combination of his actions plus the obvious indication that he was enjoying the act just as much as you were was pushing you closer and closer to the edge until you felt the knot in your stomach tightening. 

“Fuck, I-I’m gonna cum.” You say, as you feel the knot in your stomach start to unravel, Matt pulls away. 

“No.” Matt says, sternly. 

“What the fuck, Murdock!” You exclaim, leaning to look at the man who was now kneeled in between your legs. 

“What? Never been told no before?” Matt said. You groaned, frustratedly, sighing and pouting slightly. “Don’t pout, I know you’d rather cum with me inside you.” 

You don’t know how he knew you were pouting but you were immediately distracted by the man’s, now naked, lower half pressing into your center. 

“Fuck, I don’t have a condom.” Matt groans. 

“I’m clean.” You add. “And on birth control.” 

Matt looks skeptical at you. “Clean?” 

“Come on, I’ve seen you watching me on campus–” 

“I can’t really watch anything.” Matt says, nonchalantly.

“You know what I mean. As much as you’d like to think so, I’m not fucking stupid.” You say, reaching a hand up to touch the man’s cheek above you. “I know when someones paying attention to me. So tell me, have you seen me with anyone?” 

Matt knew she was right, as much as he kept track of you on campus, he knew at the end of the day, you entered your apartment alone, every time. 

You felt Matt starting to lift your hips to align with his. He pauses, to make sure that you wanted this. You leaned your hips up more and that was all the confirmation Matt needed to slide into your center. The two of you groan as you feel him slide inside of you, hand gripping around the base of your throat. Matt finds himself drunk off you. The fast pace of your heart, the gasps leaving your body as you tried to calm yourself to hold back your orgasm, the smell of your pussy getting wetter as he pumped into you faster. 

“You know, I can’t see you right now but I know how desperate you must look.” Matt says, as he begins to pump faster into you. It starts to become too much, you try to focus on something else. The ceiling above you, the clock on the nightstand, anything that would halt your impending orgasm as tears streamed down your face. For some reason, you didn’t want to disappoint him by cumming without permission. Though you didn’t know this, Matt knew what you were feeling. “I know you’re trying, baby. Be a good girl and cum for me.” 

That was all you needed to fall over the edge, eyes screwing tightly shut so you couldn’t see the smug look that crossed Matt’s face. You knew two could play that game so you tighten your legs around him. You relish in the wide-eyed look he has as his thrusts begin to falter. 

“Come inside me, Matty.” You whisper in his ear. You hear the man groan as he empties inside you. 

The two of you stay like that for a minute, neither of you daring to speak because you know you’d ruin the moment. Matt rolls off you, both of you looking up at the ceiling and not each other. 

“Don’t call me Matty again.” He says, after a moment of silence. 

You hum. “You seemed to like it.” 

Matt groans annoyed. “All of that and your still a fucking brat.” 

You shrug, even though you know he can’t see. After another moment of silence you decided to say something. 

“Social work.” You say. 

“Hm?” Matt hums. 

“That’s my major, Social work. Minor in Law. And you're right,  I didn’t want to come to Columbia but my dad refused to pay for it unless I went. Everyone in our family went to CU so I couldn’t refuse.” You say. “So, yea I don’t deserve to be here but if I’m going to help people. I’ve gotta stay here, so I’ve gotta pass.” You stand up to get dressed, throwing your clothes on haphazardly, you were just going upstairs anyway. You grab your books. “Thanks for trying to help me.” 

You start to walk out, when you hear Matt speak up. “Y/N.” 

You turn, looking at the man still on the bed. “Yes?” 

“I’ll help you, if you still want it. Do you want to come back Friday, and actually study?” 

“I’d like that.” You say, going to open the door. “Goodnight, Murdock.” 

Matt smirks at you. “Goodnight, L/N.” 

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[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

Miles of Memories- 1

We’ve Got Tonight- Bob Seger

Miles of Memories Masterlist CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Dean x reader Best Friends to Lovers AU

Summary: Feeling anxious about heading off to college, you make the most of your last night in town with the help of your best friend, Dean.

Warnings: fluffy, adorable Dean and fun banter. Slight angst (goodbyes are hard). Minor mentions of childhood trauma

WC: 2,900

A/N: This part is like a “prelude” to give you a glimpse of Y/N and Dean’s relationship (5 years before the main storyline). I hope you stay tuned for the slowest of Dean x fem!reader slowburns. I’m so excited to share this story, so please let me know what you think! MASSIVE thanks to my spectacular and badass beta crew—@christopher-evxns @deanwinchesterswitch @ezilyamuzed & @wonder-cole—for all of their help and input!! I edited even after their feedback, so all mistakes are my own.  Credit to Bob Seger for the song :) 

Zipping your suitcase closed with a heavy sigh, you worked through your mental checklist for the hundredth time to make sure you hadn’t forgotten to pack anything.

“Jeez, you act like it’s the last time you’ll ever see this place or something.” With a smile and a roll of your eyes, you turned to see Dean leaning casually against your doorframe. “Y’know, I figured I’d talk to Bobby about renting this space out anyway. Save you the stress of missing it while you’re gone because it’ll look completely different the next time you come back.”

“I’m not too worried. I think you’re the last person Bobby would trust with anything—let alone a space in his house.”

Dean grinned, pushing off the doorframe to mosey into your room. “See, normally I’d agree with you. But it just so happens that he gave me my very own key to the garage, so I think he’s coming around. This ready?” He pointed at the suitcase on your bed, and you nodded. 

“Riiight. I’m supposed to believe that Bobby would actually give you a key to come and go at the shop anytime you want.”

Dean shrugged, spinning on his heel with your bag in hand. “Guess he’s looking for a new favorite since you’re skipping town to go be successful out in the real world.”

You snorted and shook your head, silently following him to the door. He stepped out of the way, placing his free hand on the doorknob as you scanned the bedroom one last time. Gnawing your bottom lip, you sucked in a deep breath and tried to alleviate some of the tightness in your chest.

This room had been a safe haven for most of your life, and it was hard to remember the days before you called it “home.” Your mother had passed away when you were a toddler, and your father was a drunk, in and out of jail and your life until one day he didn’t come back. Bobby had often been the one who took care of you when your father needed to pass you off onto someone else. 

You didn’t remember much about the “Travelin’ Man” (as Bobby not-so-lovingly referred to him on the rare occasions he was mentioned), but you could easily recall the night Bobby told you this would be your room for good. The relief and excitement you’d felt upon learning you’d have a space of your own were still vivid. Knowing you had a place you could always return to provided a sense of stability and consistency you’d never known.

Bobby may not have been your father by blood, but he was your dad in every sense of the word. Sure, he was a little rough around the edges and tended to be a hermit, but he also had a heart of gold, and not once had he ever made you question whether he cared about you.

A few weeks after settling into your new home, you had met Jessica and Sam during recess at your new elementary school. Although they were a grade younger, you’d instantly hit it off with them. Jess and Sam had always been there for you over the years, too, willing to lend an ear or make time for movie nights and spontaneous trips to the diner. Eventually, Sam had introduced you to Dean, and the two of you had been inseparable ever since. Each and every memory you had growing up involved at least one (if not all three) of them. But while it was difficult saying goodbye to everyone in general...you still hadn’t been able to grasp the idea of saying goodbye to Dean.

Dean was the one who had been by your side through everything. From heartfelt life chats and your deepest moments of self-doubt to car ride sing-alongs and your loudest belly laughs. He was always there to comfort you, remind you not to take things so seriously, and even drag you into trouble once in a while. 

The thought of leaving him and your safe, familiar home brought yet another wave of apprehension and doubt. What if you were making a huge mistake?

“Y/N...” Dean’s gentle voice coaxed you back to reality. “We’ve still got a lot to pack into our night, so don’t go checking out on me yet.”

Without looking back, you slipped past Dean and heard him shut the door as you made your way downstairs. 

“You know, this wouldn’t be so hard if you would’ve just applied like I told you to. Then we could both be going off to college together, and you’d find out what an honor it would be to have me as a roomie.”

“Okay, well, let me remind you that you’re the one who decided to go ‘see what’s out there’ and get a fancy college degree under her belt. And, even if we did survive being roommates without making the other want to pull their hair out, there’s no way in hell that town would be able to handle both of us.”

“That’s fair.”

“Besides, I won’t have much of a chance to miss you. You’ll probably flunk out and be back here by the end of the semester anyway.”

“Also fair,” you laughed. “Taking a year off to work at The Roadhouse and pretend to get my life together seemed like a good idea at the time, but I’m a little worried about getting into the groove of studying and all that crap again.”

“You know, if you need help, all you gotta do is pick up the phone. I mean, Sammy’s a real bookworm, and he’s only a phone call away.” Dean winked as he held the front door open and motioned for you to lead the way. 

Sticking your tongue in your cheek, you fought to hide your amusement at the way he threw his brother under the bus. Before you made it through the door, you whirled around toward the stairs again. “Dang it. I forgot my bathroom bag. Do you mind tossing that one in the car? I’ll be right back!”

“Another bag? Where are you gonna put all this crap?” he muttered.

After retrieving the pouch from the bathroom upstairs and making sure you hadn’t left any necessary items in the drawers and cabinets, you hurried outside to find Dean patiently waiting beside your car. You tossed the small bag and he caught it with ease, pitching it in the backseat before closing the door.

“And done. Any last-minute stops to make along the way?” he asked.

“Nope. I caught Ellen, Jo, and Jody at the end of my shift yesterday, and Charlie was over for a bit this morning. And, you know, Sam and Jess ditched us for California last weekend. That means you and Bobby are the only two left to put up with me until I leave in the morning.”

When your voice cracked unexpectedly, you cleared your throat and surveyed the scrapyard until the faint prick in the corners of your eyes faded. As your departure drew near and you considered everything you were leaving behind, venturing out into the world was quickly beginning to feel more daunting than exciting. 

“Hey…” Dean gripped the tops of your arms, stirring you from your thoughts. “We’ve got tonight. Who needs tomorrow? We’ve got tonight...babe. Why don’t you staaaaaaaayy—”

You had thought he was going to say something sweet and comforting, but you playfully shoved him in the chest when you realized he was speaking in Bob Seger lyrics. He stumbled back a step, laughing as he walked around the front of the impala and climbed inside.

***

There was an old park on the outskirts of town where Bobby and John would occasionally drop you both off when they had errands to run. As the years passed, you began riding your bikes the few miles across town, taking turns balancing Sam on your handlebars until Dean was old enough to drive. Eventually, Sam stopped tagging along, but somewhere along the way the park became a place you and Dean cherished. 

A large pond stretched across most of the area, and there was a stately willow tree near the water’s edge that served as your designated “spot.” It was a hideaway often overlooked by others, but it was the perfect escape when the two of you needed a place that was all your own. 

“Alright.” Dean plopped down beside you on the blanket. “You’ve got your grub, an amazing view, and the best company you could ever ask for. What else could you possibly want?”

“You’re right. Baby’s good company and all, but she’s not much of a conversationalist.”

Dean grimaced. “Just for that, I might eat your food.”

“Depending on what it is, I might let you.”

He smirked and unrolled the brown paper sack in his hand. “PB&J’s, just like Mom used to make! I asked if she could whip up a few before she flew out to make sure Sam got all settled at Stanford. She said to tell you she’s sorry she couldn’t catch you and to wish you good luck. This seemed like a, uh, better idea at the time...now that it’s been a couple of days, these might taste like shit.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you took the sandwich Dean offered. “We’ve probably eaten worse, but I appreciate the sentimental twist. Seeing as how you’re in your 20’s and you had your mom make us sandwiches.”

“Hey, I was going for authenticity! Trying to help you feel like a kid again before you start adulting or whatever and—you know what? Just shut up and eat your food.”

The two of you unwrapped your sandwiches and continued bantering back and forth between bites. Even though the bread was soggy from marinating in jelly for a few days, and it certainly wasn’t the best thing you’d ever eaten, it brought back a flood of nostalgia. 

When a comfortable silence fell over the two of you, your thoughts began to drift to dozens of adventures you and Dean had had here. You gazed out over the water, watching the willow branches graze the surface as they gently swayed in the breeze. You tried to commit every detail to memory as you soaked in the peaceful atmosphere, not knowing how long it would be until you returned.

After a while, Dean chuckled under his breath, and you looked at him curiously.

“You remember that day we were pretending to be pirates, and Dad ended up coming to pick us up early?”

“Of course.”

“Man, he was so pissed when he saw us standing on top of that picnic table we managed to drag out and ‘sail’ into the middle of the pond. Sure made an awesome ship, though.”

You smiled at the memory, though it was anything but funny at the time. “I think he was a little more pissed at the fact that we left Sam playing alone in the gazebo. And obviously what made the ‘ship’ great was the pirate flag I made.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean snorted. “You mean the crappy skull you drew on our lunch bag and stuck on the end of a stick? Pretty sure we were having a blast with the ship because it was my brilliant idea in the first place.”

“I was like 8, and it was still better than anything you could’ve drawn.” You crumpled up your trash and threw it at him. “And I was having fun--right up until you pushed me off anyway. I nearly choked to death on all that nasty water I sucked in.”

“Okay, well, you shouldn’t have been trying to be Captain when I’m the oldest, and it was clearly my title to begin with. There was no plank to walk, but obviously, you had to go overboard.” 

He grinned, keeping his gaze fixed on the water. As you studied his face and noticed the faraway look in his eye, his smile faded. You figured his thoughts had drifted back to his dad, who had passed away a couple of years later. 

“I felt so damn bad, though. I really was afraid you were gonna drown. And Bobby was ready to kill me when he found out.”

“Lucky for you, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

The two of you joked and reminisced for several more hours, eventually watching the sun set over the water until it sank below the horizon. When it was time to head back to Bobby’s, Dean took the long way home so you could crank the radio and sing along with your hand hanging lazily out the open window. Back at the house, you sat on the kitchen counter and talked with both men until Bobby finally bid you goodnight--but you still weren’t ready to call it a night, knowing morning would come soon and it would be time for you to leave. 

After convincing Dean to stay a little longer, you grabbed a couple of old blankets and spread them in the bed of one of the pickup trucks near the house. With your head on his chest and your body tucked comfortably against his side, you chatted beneath the stars until you drifted off to sleep.

***

“Got everything all packed up?” Bobby asked.

“I think so,” you answered.

“Better double-check because I’m not driving a few hours just to bring you a lost shoe or something.” 

“Is that a challenge?” you teased, seeing right through his gruff quip. “Because I bet I could talk you into it. We both know you’re not gonna know what to do without me.”

He frowned a little before smiling fondly, and you could’ve sworn there was a misty glaze in his eyes.

“Yeah. I s’pose you’re right.”

“Oh, don’t get all sentimental on me now. You could probably use a little break. Besides, I’ll be back so often you’ll just get sick of me all over again.”

“C’mere, kid.” 

Bobby reached out and pulled you into a hug. Much too soon, he let go and stepped aside so you could say goodbye to Dean. His soft green eyes had been fixed on you, but he glanced away and clenched his jaw when you took a step toward him. 

“So, uh...don’t forget about us when you make it big out there in the real world—catch a break as an artist or an author or some music critic.”

“Yeah, okay,” you scoffed. “I haven’t even picked out a major yet, but I think I have an advisor who can help me figure out a good fit...eventually. Maybe I’ll be a doctor—or follow in Sam’s footsteps and be a lawyer!”

“There you go. Why not just do it all while you’re at it? Jack of all trades, master of none. Whatever you end up doing, you better come back to visit soon.”

“You got it. Try not to turn into a grumpy old man while I’m gone.”

He shook his head, cracking a smile as he met your eyes. “Only a couple years older than you, brat. Anyway, I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep last night, so I made you a playlist for the drive. Figured I might as well do something useful while I was awake. I sent it to you while you were getting ready.”

Pulling out your phone, you found a message already waiting with a link to the playlist. 

“This is awesome, Dean, thank you. But if it ends up being six hours of nothing but Zeppelin, I’m gonna be pissed.”

He tossed his head back and laughed, making the knot in your throat grow once again at the thought of not seeing him almost every day. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d miss you as much as you were going to miss him.

“Don’t worry; I think it ended up being a decent mix. Not too many classics and not too much of the more modern crap. There was, uh... a certain thought process behind each song, let’s just say that.”

“We all know some of that modern crap is a guilty pleasure of yours. I mean, Taylor Swift?”

“Yeah…” His gaze lingered until his grin faded to a sad smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you leaned forward and threw an arm around each man. Squeezing your eyes closed, you hugged them tight.

“All joking aside...you got nothing to worry about. You’re gonna kick this college thing in the ass,” Dean murmured.

“Thank you.”

Clearing your throat, you slipped out of their embrace and quickly made your way to the car. 

“Drive safe--and call when you get there!” Bobby hollered.

Stealing one last glimpse over your shoulder, you waved and slid behind the wheel. You hit shuffle on the playlist, letting the music fill the vehicle while you fasten your seatbelt.

I know it’s late

I know you’re weary

I know your plans don’t include me...

You shook your head and smiled, blinking back tears at the irony of the song—the lyrics perfectly encapsulating your night with Dean.

Look at the stars so far away

We’ve got tonight

Who needs tomorrow?

We’ve got tonight, babe

Why don’t you stay?

As you started the car and drove away, seeing him and Bobby grow smaller in the rearview mirror, you finally began to cry.

Part 2

CarryOnCap Crew (Forevers):

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Miles of Mems Tags:

@bobbie3939  @jerkbitchidjitassbutt  @mlovesstories  @onethirstyunicorn  @peridottea91  @valsworldofcreativity

Also tagging those of you who seemed interested when I posted the masterlist. I don’t want to pester you, so I probably won’t tag you in future parts unless you let me know that you’d like to be tagged!

@badlittlehabit99  @cajunquandary  @devvoon  @flamencodiva  @hybrid-in-the-making  @impalackless  @janicho88  @themoonblooms

#miles of memories #dean winchester x reader series #dean winchester series #dean x reader series #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x female!reader #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #dean winchester x reader au #dean x y/n #dean x you #supernatural fanfic series #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic series #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #dean fanfiction #dean fic #dean series #dean fanfic #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fluff #best friends to lovers trope #miles of mems

[beignetbenny]

If you're comfortable would you share more you projecting your relationship onto Zukka? I originally followed you from the grocery trip post and i honestly love that sort of thing

You... you want me to project my relationship onto Zuko and Sokka more? My relationship? The one where my GF texted me “if i cosplay zuko and you cosplay sokka and we kiss would that be crazy or what?” that relationship?

I have literally been DYING to do this

Zuko and Sokka met in their junior year of college (performing arts college because if we’re projecting we’re projecting) and the first time Sokka sees him he’s already like: I’m in love

Since Zuko is an arts student, his style is a little more on the quirky side i’m not gonna lie. It’s usually a mix of grunge and goth stuff with the occasional surprise like “oh you have a turtleduck pin on your backpack. Are those pride flag socks?”

Sokka already had a pretty established friend group, but Zuko had transferred back in that semester after taking a leave of absence for family reasons. So, immediately sokka takes him in.

Zuko becomes really good friends with Aang and Katara and Suki and Toph of course, as they spend most of their time together. With rehearsing, running to get food at obscene times of the night still in their dance gear because rehearsals ran long. They food hop and get boba at 2 am, coffee at 3 am, McDonalds at 4 and so on. They go out and get pasta at midnight and refer to it as pasta time. Only one of them has to drop that phrase alone in the groupchat and everyone agrees on a time. Pajamas be damned. They get away with it because technically they are student athletes

A joke by Sokka that is run into the ground by the time they sneak ben and jerrys into a Tap level 5 placement. Zuko is the only other one out of the friend group that gets the highest dance placement as Sokka. It’s understandable, tap dancing is very hard, its’ a difficult skill, and not everyone can do a winged time step into navy time steps it’s rightfully difficult and the timing is off

So... the two of them start rehearsing together more. It wasn’t that they didn’t a lot before, but the class was mostly split and sure they were definitely friends outside of classes too but Sokka felt like his super mega crush on the hot belter who came in with Aftershocks from Next to Normal was something he could get over. So he kinda stuffed it away the more they worked together. 

Then they get assigned a scene. An acting scene. An acting scene that ended in a passionate kiss. An acting scene the teacher said they were both capable of

So they rehearse it. They’re both dead letter perfect by the first night because they have expectations to live up too and both of their siblings just get things so much easier and suddenly they’re talking instead of rehearsing.

Three hours pass before they remember “holy shit we’re running this with blocking in class tomorrow we should probably get this right”

So they go through the scene, the emotions are pretty high, and they both lean in for a stage kiss before Sokka stops

Sokka: Wait...  Zuko: What? Sokka: This is okay right? I can touch you? I mean we didn’t talk about it first and- Zuko: Sokka Sokka: And I know this is both of our first scenes with a kiss and i really respect you as an actor and i don’t want to make you uncomfortable Zuko: ...Sokka Sokka: And I just want to say that- Zuko: You can kiss me Sokka: What? Zuko: It’s not a big deal. We’re both trying to be professionals right? It doesn’t need to mean anything.  Sokka: ... yeah...

So they kinda uh... kiss... and they don’t really stop... kissing

They do it in class and the kiss maybe plays off a little too well. The other classmates clap, the teacher gives feedback. His main point is that you’re supposed to be in love but you’re acting like it hurts.

And sokka makes some bullshit excuse about how he saw the character differently and Zuko tags along to that idea giving more validity to the statement and the teacher is like “alright, bet. You’ve proved your point. It’s probably not what the playwright wanted but this is about expression so i’m glad you feel expressed”

They don’t rehearse together anymore because both of them feel like they’ve gotten it and don’t want to ruin anything. They still hang out. They still have pasta nights. But things are kinda weird. But more than anything, Sokka really misses his friend

In the end, they end up having to do the scene for a showcase. Meaning that during rehearsals they have to do it again and again and again and again until it sort of just becomes normal

Good luck kisses back stage turns into kissing in greeting when they’re visiting each others dorm rooms turns to picking up food orders for each other. Never in front of people, because you can make it platonic. And realistically it’s only done so both of you can make the stage kiss feel more comfortable.

But that doesn’t stop Sokka from being like “woah man i’m getting mad butterflies when we kissed even though I immediately called you dude after the kiss broke"

So sokka comes up with a plan because as much as he likes whatever they’ve got going on, which he does because friend and kissing and cuddling is GREAT for someone who is scared of commitment because the chance of something happening to that person would literally destroy him and that doesn’t feel great.

Instead, the night of the showcase he gets all of his friends to hype him up to ask Zuko out with his favorite candy, a coupon to get pasta, and well... the obvious question

But Sokka waits until they’re in places like an asshole but also because he’s kinda terrified and if something goes wrong it could change the whole dynamic of the scene and they’d both flunk out of fucking THEATER SCHOOL AND-

And he shoves the snack and the coupon and a note he hastily wrote into Zuko’s hands before running to his own entrance to do the scene because he’s stage left while Zuko’s stage right.

And they do the scene, but somethings a little off. Zuko seems distracted but he’s also happy? like super happy? Like did the laugh queue and made it sound genuine instead of spiteful happy? And he smiled into the kiss? That wasn’t... something they did. But Sokka went along with it because the scene SEEMED to be working fine

And then they go off stage and the second the theater darkens, Zuko shoves the prop pillows into Sokka’s chest

Zuko: Fuck you Sokka: What? What did I- Zuko: I mean, yes, obviously yes. The hot tamales were a great choice but fuck you. Sokka: Yes? Zuko: Yeah!

And that’s the only conversation they get in because they have to help with the other prop changes but the moment they are finally backstage and their mics are off they kiss in the little hallways backstage that goes from one entrance or another

(at least they think they’re mics are off but uh... that was embarrassing and i don’t want to put that on them carrying on)

When the show ends and they’re both wiping they’re stage makeup off about to leave their director approaches them and obviously they both think they’re in trouble because they just did a 180 to what they had practiced for the last month but the director loved it. And then he asks them why it was different and Zuko admits that something finally clicked. And the director chalks it up to opening night vibes and that now they should keep it that way for the rest of the performances

The night the show closes they do a Gaang pasta night and the rest of them don’t even realize anything is different until Sokka reaches over and takes something from Zuko’s plate (which was usually off the table and would result in getting fussed at) that they noticed something was up.

#zukka #eli tries to write #theater kid au #Anonymous

[neoneidolon]

one year - 1/ 2/20

It’s been a year since I started this blog!

Most of you probably know that this blog holds the OC continuation of the story I started as a canon character on cubicscubedemon. The history hasn’t changed; Morpho uses what used to be their nickname back on the old blog, and they reference things that happened back when they were Amorphous Shape, so they are definitely still the same person, but they were such a tiny presence in their old canon that I feel comfortable calling them my OC now.

So! We’re basically in the epilogue, I think! After a series of huge pushes, they left their Boss and started a new life in hiding. They had a run-in with their homeworld, picked up a sibling by accident, reconnected with an old friend, made some new ones. The nature of their relationships is different now. They’ve come a long way. So what now?

Well, first of all I want to say I’m not planning on quitting yet. There are still things I want to do, or at least lay down the groundwork for happening later in the unwritten bits of Morpho’s life. Because I know how their story is going to end. I probably won’t write it here, because that’s at least a few decades in the future we’re talking about and this blog operates on sorta kinda real-ish time, but it’s a nice bittersweet ending I keep in mind. It was never going to end the way Morph *wants*, but they’ll be happy regardless, I promise.

More Things That Have Happened:

-- they started living on Earth! exactly what the version of me who ran the old blog swore up and down would never happen in the default “verse”/timeline. Past me is eating their words right now

-- on a semi-related note, wow, this blog has been running for a year and still hasn’t gained any alternate verse tags? that’s kind of impressive

-- so now when I read through the old blog archive it’s going to be an organization nightmare figuring out if the version of Morpho in a given post is the same one as in this blog or not

-- I straight up forgot that Morpho already knew their timeline’s version of their Boss was dead. In the kidnapping event, Bill told them that and they reacted like it was new information. It wasn’t. I’m just an idiot who doesn’t read the archive enough.

-- Morpho is now: 10-20% more honest! 40% more emotionally open! 4% more humble! 80% deeper into their destiny as the local eldritch witchy grandma/eccentric uncle who has seven dozen other dimensions on speed-dial!

-- they’re still working on letting go of their need to be the “better version” of their ex-Boss, but what happened in Hyperspaceland went a long, long way in proving to them that the Multiverse can have wildly unlikely good things happen in it, and that they can make a positive difference without having to do it the way they had impressed upon them for years.

-- plus, they now have friends and acquaintances who are “weird” like them, who have managed to make good lives for themselves without having to be subject to dimensional power struggles and other unwanted cosmic nonsense. They didn’t think being able to “retire”/live quietly was really possible for people like themself, so seeing otherwise is really good for them. They don’t think directly about this, though, it’s subconscious.

-- but they still have a long way to go and a lot of deep-seated issues to unravel, and now they have to raise their time-clone twin sibling and pray they don’t mess the kid up.

Things I’d Like to Happen, Either Written Here or Not:

-- Morph letting go of their instinct to manipulate situations to their favor, and also their tendency to make things more difficult by lying

-- Morpho letting go of the assumption that most people have ulterior motives, even if their history demonstrates that they have a good reason to believe that

-- Beta growing up, working out how they are and are not Morpho, simultaneously

-- Morpho reaching a point where they can be trusted to not (usually) try using people for their own personal gain, so they can finally go back to their real calling (teaching) properly this time

I worry a lot about whether I keep things consistent here, if Morpho’s still the same person they were two years ago or one year ago. They seem happier, anyway. I don’t think they would be as happy if I was just shearing off unpalatable parts of them out of misplaced fear. At the same time, they are always going to be a little bit awful!

And what about Beta? I keep saying we’re near the end, but just as Morpho’s coming in on the close of their development, Beta’s is just beginning, under totally different circumstances as her elder twin. Life as the soul of a magical alien spirit thing, in the body of an earthly creature, isn’t going to be easy for her. If I wanted, I could lean all the focus on her and get a whole new narrative out of it.

That brings me to something else I wanted to talk about. So if you’ve followed me for a while, you know this about me: for better or for worse, I always have a narrative arc in mind. There are good things and bad things about that approach, and it’s pretty easy to screw up, especially where other people are involved. And the problem with characters who develop is that it is totally possible to develop them too much, to extend their story so far that they become somebody who doesn’t resemble who they were originally. I’m worried about this happening with Morph. I’m also worried about this blog just becoming an endless series of me coming up with some arbitrary new conflict or danger or drama every time I get bored of describing their mundane life. I don’t want to bore anyone. (I know, the wisdom is to RP for yourself and your own fun, but it still involves other people and also, I need to entertain, otherwise what is the point of my story?)

This blog is... might end before this time this year. I say might, it’s not that I don’t enjoy anymore and want to quit. After that? I don’t know. Starting an art blog on Tumblr feels kind of pointless now since the platform is dying, and RP is one of the major reasons I stick around since I don’t really use my personal blog much anymore. If I don’t write here, I feel like I’m going to slip away from a lot of friends. I don’t want to lose you all. I could start a new muse, Beta or someone else, but...

I want to do something different, too.

And that brings me to the last (I think) thing, which is what form Morpho’s story might take next. Because if I DO end this blog before the beginning of next year, I wouldn’t be done with Morph by a long shot. I love them too much and there’s too much of me I sunk into them. So what would I do?

Well, I was hoping to spin a web thing with words and pictures. ...I think I’m just going to call it a web serial. No intention of ever formally publishing it. It would be the same basic arc again, but more polished and with all the Gravity Falls filed off a backstory and setting that is more original to me, plus additional new plot things and side characters. Definitely taking place in a Multiverse, though, how could it not?

coming up with a villain to replace Bill Cipher has been basically impossible but Morpho’s story can’t function without somebody in that role

Maybe this is misguided of me, maybe it will fail to launch, or launch and then fail, and attempting to run it alongside this blog is an almost guaranteed terrible idea, but I want to do it. Morpho is never going to get a book series or a TV show, so this is what I have for them. It could be pretty interesting if it works. They feel ready. And most importantly I know I can tell this long rambly story and finish it, because I’ve already done it, here with the help of a bunch of writers--friends-- that I admire. Morpho wouldn’t have made it this far without you.

When is it coming? I don’t really know. Work on the first installments is happening, but it’s slow, and there’s key things I don’t know yet. Most of it is going to be flying by the seat of my pants, making it up as I go (but y’know, making it up better, with slightly less improvisation than I usually employ here). I’m graduating from community college in mid March of this year, which is going to be a major life change that is probably going to turn my life completely upside down. Maybe I will suddenly not have any time for creating anything, be it an RP blog or a web serial, much less both! haha I’m terrified 

But with luck, I’m hoping that what I am tentatively calling Amos vs. Everything will be out soon. Like, really soon. Some point between late January and when I graduate. (Now I just have to A. figure out where I’m hosting this thing and B. graduate. It would be really embarrassing if I flunked out of my last semester of school.)

I can see it now: somebody going “who the heck is ‘Amos’? The main character’s name is Morpho!” and I will smile and say ‘wait and see’ because they don’t know, but you. You all know.

And that’s about it! This is but a small and humble blog, and I like it that way. I appreciate every one of you who are here at time of writing. For the ones I don’t manage to interact with much-- I’m useless and shy. Poke me, reasonably. If you’re just here to spectate, that’s cool too. :D For the ones who come write here a lot, or did once-- you built this house.

Okay I should stop now or I’ll be sitting here forever! I can’t believe you read all this! Thank you all for everything and Happy New Year!

#ooc #one year blog retrospect #warning: very very very long and sentimental post #there is an announcement in there but I'm crazy nervous about it #i almost hope it gets overlooked even thought i want it to work out

[enniewritesathing]

57 Facts

I was tagged by the lovely @pink-chevalier, thank you ❤❤

Let’s see if I got 57 facts in me, lol.

My car, Sheila, is a stick shift. I’ve been dirving stick since I was 19. My dad taught me and I got it down within a day. The hardest part is stopping/going on a hill.

My favorite color is blue, but I love the darker shades of blue. They speak to me. (And they also taste good no matter what it is).

I’m 30, but I look half my age. At least according to everybody. It’s a curse. And don’t give me that, “but that’s good~”. 

I won a Xbox One X from Taco Bell last year. I’m just as surprised as you are. I’m gonna try and see if I can win the white one this year, lol.

My Steam queue and game queue in general? It’s outrageous. 

I served in the military (Air Force). I fixed radio equipment and antennas. 

For almost 3 years because I have really bad shins.

I lived in Germany when I was 2months - 4 years old. I don’t remember any of it, but we have a lot of pictures.

I got kicked out of a major university marching band because I was frustrated with a lot of things and I may have made a F-bomb laced post. (And I talked to the higher ups about stuff but they didn’t listen/did nothing about it). Someone snitched on me; still don’t know who did it. This was back when FB was college-only.

I played the clarinet from 6th grade up until that point. Should have taken up saxophone if I’m gonna be honest.

And then like a semester later, I flunked out. 

When I make OCs, I put a lot of thought into them.

I had a tough love approach to making them, but I'm way gentler now. Mostly.

I tend to make them in pairs? Or eventually they end up being together, lol. I think one pair is married?? But they all tend to have old married couple traits, I think. They *clearly* love each other.

I would make them in TS4, but I forgot what they look like... 😟

I'm 5'0.

I powerlift! Which is *very* different from Olympic Weightlifting! And bodybuilding is completely unrelated to both!

I don't look the part though. Powerlifting brings all sorts of body types.

I've been competing in the 84kg weight class for 3 years, and counting.

I've won 1 1st place, and 3 2nd place medals.

My total right now is about 610lbs for all three lifts. I've got a ways to go to start competing on regionals/nationals.

I have a meet on Saturday and I'm super nervous about it, lol.

I'm single, not sure how to mingle, and at this point... kinda don't want to?

Never really been in a relationship; some times I'm alright with this other times I'm cursing the universe.

I'm demisexual, or, somewhere on the ace spectrum. Demi fits me the most currently. (What's up my fellow aces 🖐)

I'm not aro tho. Give me that romantic shit!!!

Didn't figure this out until I was a whole ass 25 years old, and I found out via here and my hella good friend! And it's been a goddamn ride.

Now that I think about it, Brian is (most likely, but he may be grey-A) demi. I think. Probably.

I've known my good friend for 20 years? Almost 20 years! They have a tumblr too and of course we're mutuals and I love them to bits :>

I'm pretty shy.

I *do* have a type. Well, types, but I do love characters that are strong as hell, but also really sweet??? Like they can fuck you up, but also loves baby cats. A "bad boy" but a sweet boy.

Physically?? Oof. I have a tag on my main that's like my jam, aesthetic wise. They're so handsome. But my fav body type is actually the "lumberjack' build. I like a little beef ~_~

I started making poses because a lot of poses didn't fit my boys/very slim pickings and hardly nothing spicy wise, and I could never find anything super specific that I wanted.

I pretty much learned on my own through a LOT of practice with the Pose Helper. There was like one tutorial using the pose helper, and that was it. Lots of trial and error. If you really want to go through it, go through my ts4 pose wip tag. Like alllll the way back. It was a rocky start.

I do the NSFW/spicy poses in cycles. Basically, when the mood strikes me. I'm not sure what theme I'm gonna go with for the next one though. I've been wanting to do some stripper poses, but also light bondage or something. Hmm...🤔

I do enjoy making them, but 😳

My favorite pose set is probably Bare Knuckle because, at the time, the most complex thing I made and I'm super proud of it. The idea of fighting a literal demon just... came up lol. I am considering doing another Muay Thai centered pose set, but pic refs are hard to come by. The one I used for BK deactivated :(

I use a lot of refs. It's very okay to use refs! Sometimes I have to adjust them to accommodate male frames.

I have a weighted blanket and it's fantastic and if you're able to get one, I SUPER recommend it.

I was born 2 weeks late. Yeah, lol. Sorry, mom.

I have an older half brother. He's out there doing... stuff.

I have 4 nephews. That I know of.

Up until last year, I was the only granddaughter of my grandma. Now I'm the oldest!

I am older than my uncle by 4/5 years. (He was a late/surprise baby lol)

I have a bad habit of making faces. I am *very* expressive. Basically, I'm a walking reaction gif, lol. And I have gotten in trouble when I was younger.

I know how to read maps. Like actual road maps, and I can navigate by sight too. When I was younger, my dad gave me the role on long trips to help me read and know geography. I don't get lost.

I'm pretty hungry right now...

I used to play DDR. Like, an absurd amount of it, allll the way back when Max2/Extreme came out. Now? I play when I can.

Not as good as I used to be, stamina wise, but I still get ridiculously high grades/marksbn on songs. The highest difficulty rating I was at when I peaked was 16s. That's out of a 20 scale. Now? I'm lucky to clear a 13/14. There's a HUGE skill difference.

I have trouble verbalizing things in general. When I'm writing/typing, I'm fine. But speaking?? Forget it.

I am a naturally quiet person, which tends to unnerve a lot of people? I just don't have much to say on a lot of things.

People tell me some wild shit, but uh, I forget because I have a shitty memory and attention span.

Never been in a fight, but I did punch this bully that was messing with me back in kindergarten right in the stomach. Just dropped him. My dad taught me :>

I've been on Tumblr for a LONG ass time... since 2010. I've seen shit. This blog is I think 6 years old? But only 3ish years since it became a simblr, hence the name. It was for my writings at first but ~nobody came~.

I really do love making poses, yall. Even on days where I'm feeling crummy, I try and do one pose. Don't matter what it is.

Every time I get a message saying that my posts/cc brightens someone's day, it makes my whole damn week. Thank you for nice words. I still have an anon message that was sent months ago, saying they really love John and Brian's relationship with each other, and depicting what love is. Thank you, anon 😭😭😭

I love and appreciate every one of ya'll. Thank you for following me and sticking around with this small simblr. :)

57 is a LOT, but I somehow did it. If you wanna do it, considered yourself tagged. If not, that's cool, and if you read all of the facts... congrats, lol.

#a text post #non sims #long post #tag meme