#a handful of girls from my class in high school who have become very politically active

[iiotic]

｡‧High School Sweethearts༻༉

Human! Alastor x Fem! Reader

༉‧.tw - Toxic relationship, cheating (not alastor nor reader), swearing, manipulation, mentions of death, murder and kidnapping, slight nsfw?? Situationship Please inform me if you'll find more.

༉‧.words - 3.4k

༉‧.a/n - High school sweethearts and your good friend combined!! Bcs I'm not continuing this series. I really hate how I wrote "Your good friend" which was the part 2 and I simply don't have the motivation nor ideas to continue it.

"Can we just be honest?"

"These are the requirements."

"If you think you can be my one and only true love."

You've been in many relationships before. Not even a single one worked, you were devastated, so you decided to give yourself a break from everything. You thought that you needed to focus on yourself more and many agreed with your decision.

However the fact that guys were practically drooling over you at school, wasn't helping. They truly just went for looks, they'd leave you after becoming more popular and having his way with you.

You were so sick of that. Can't you just have a healthy relationship? Whatever, you didn't care anymore.

"You must promise to love me."

"And damn it, if you fuck me over."

"I will rip your fuckin' face apart."

Numerous rumours were spreading, fast. You had absolutely no idea why. You didn't do anything stupid nor risky this time.

It started with harmless jokes about you being in love with the new guy, Richard. He quickly became popular as girls thought that he was very handsome and they weren't wrong. He was quite charming.

The rumour quickly stopped when Richard started courting one of the girls in your class, Dorothy. Girls were fuming with anger at the sight of him and her acting all "lovey dovey" as people called it. You were relieved, Dorothy was such a sweet girl.

However then their relationship crashed. One rumour said that Dorothy dumped Richard for being "Selfish" and for having "a big ego" then another rumour said that Richard dumped Dorothy for having a poor family. Their relationship went on and off again. You didn't really care as long as it didn't applied to you.

"Step one."

"You must accept that i'm a little of my mind."

Then fate decided to punch you right in the face or rather Richard with his boldness. You were just walking to your next class with your small group of friends and then he approached you. As the conversation quickly tuned down he started his little speech.

-" Doll, I have decided to give you this honour, of going to the prom with me." - Richard declared taking one of your hands, looking definitely not at your eyes. -" So, you're welcome."

You looked at him with disgust, what makes him think that you'd ever want to go with him? What makes him think that you will ever go to the prom? You weren't going to. Snapping back to the reality, you quickly snatched your hand away from his grip.

-" The audacity to even ask me that."- You said, looking at your friends. Some of them were already giggling and some of them stared at you with confusion. -" The answer is no."

He chuckled nervously as you continued. -"I thought that was obvious? Why would i ever accept your "invitation"? Besides Dorothy would be truly heartbroken to hear that you don't want to go to the prom with her. I heard her talking about a new dress she just bought and I bet she will look stunning. So why won't you ask her out? Shoo.. Before I will tell the whole school about this conversation.

He was just standing there, truly shocked, mouth open, no words left. Richard snapped back to reality after hearing your friends laugh at him and his stupidity or maybe his state?? You didn't care you just wanted to go to class without any disturbance.

"Step two."

"This is a waste if you can't walk me down the finish line."

As days passed by, more and more people asked you out. You always politely declined. You didn't even know most of the people who asked you out, never saw them in your entire life.

Besides its not like you were going to prom anyways and even if you wanted to, you'd like to go with someone who is important to you. Someone who'd care about you, someone who wouldn't use you for looks or popularity.

"Step three."

"Give me passion, don't make fun of my fashion."

However at the time, you didn't realized that there was a boy, your age, watching and admiring you from afar. He like many other boys thought that you were quite attractive, but he knew that he was out of your league.

You didn't even know he existed besides he heard that your "requirements" were almost impossible to fulfil. Rumours said that your standards are very high, and that's because you aren't in a relationship.

Alastor didn't know much about you. All he knew that you live close to eachothers and that you have a good sense in fashion. Well not many knew that because the school required school uniforms.

He always wanted to start talking to you, but never actually did. What would you say? You'd probably just laugh at him like at that kid on the hallway. So Alastor decided to try something different..

"Step four."

"Give me more, give me more, more.."

Some days ago you found an anonymous letter in your locker with a single rose attached to it. You were not really surprised by the rose itself however it made you smile and you appreciated the small gift. You were shocked upon seeing a letter so well-written, it made you blush slightly as you read word by word what someone wrote about you.

Saying how someone adores everything you do and they even complimented your handwriting which, you thought, wasn't very attractive.

After seven days you sound a little key chain, a letter and once again a rose attached to it. The letter was still as good as the first one, it made you smile. From now on every Thursday you found a letter with an rose attached and sometimes a little gift with it. You've got a secret admirer.

"If you can't handle a heart like mine."

"Don't waste your time with me."

"If you're not down to bleed, no, oh."

Your secret admirer never failed to make you smile, after a month you grew more and more desperate to know his identity. You'd watch your locker all the time to see if someone is putting something in, eyeing every single kid that walked by.

On another Thursday you pulled out a letter and a rose attached to it, as always. You really wanted to make a whole bouquet with it, you always carefully put them in a vase when you came back.

On that day a guy saw you pulling it out, thinking that it would be a perfect idea to make you think that he wrote all the letters and carefully trimmed all the tosses you received from an anonymous person.

Little naive you believed him and soon you both started dating. You really thought that he would be a little more romantic and charming in person but who could complain? You were happy that someone actually loved you and cared about you just as much as you cared for them.

Soon the day of the prom came and you agreed to go with your partner. You were getting ready for hours to make sure you'd look good for him! You really hoped he'd like it.

However you grew a little suspicious why the love letters didn't stop.

He picked you up at 7 just like he said he will. It was quite the quiet walk, nobody dared to speak for some reason, it was almost uncomfortable. When you arrived he suddenly vanished. You spend all the time getting ready just for him to walk away like that? really ungentlemanly behaviour.

You really didn't have much time to think about it, as your friends dragged you to the dance floor, you were dancing your heart out. However then the slow dance started, you quickly had to scramble off the dance floor as you didn't really want to interrupt other couples. Besides you really wanted to find your boyfriend to dance with him.

And then, once again, you felt like you just got slapped across the face, your own boyfriend dancing with someone else. It really would be fine if they weren't so close to eachother, eyes closed and lips almost touching. You just wanted to dissaper.

Heartbroken you ran out of the building, to get some fresh air. Tears streaming down your face as you thought about all the memories you shared with him. Everything was a lie. You sat on the edge of a fontann, your makeup completely ruined and your hair a mess.

After a minute or two, you heard footsteps approaching. You didnt bother looking up at this someone, since you weren't in an amazing state right now. The footsteps stopped and the wind alarmed you that someone sat beside you.

"How could he do this to me?" You wondered, kicking your heels off.

-"Are you alright?" You heard a masculine voice ask, empathy radiating from his tone.

-"Do I look alright to you?" You murmured, not wanting to look up at him nor wanting to talk about anything that happened.

-"My apologies, dumb question." After few minutes of sitting there in silence you finally decided to look at the anonymous someone who sat beside you.

Your eyes were met with a boy, your age. Brown-ish hair, caramel skin and mesmerising chocolatey eyes that were looking directly at you. He was wearing a black suit with red accents. his lips were formed in a small smile.

-" This might seem rude, but i saw everything what happened, and I think that guy was just a waste of your time. A pretty lady like you deserves so much better." He stated, trying to make you feel better. As much as you wouldn't like to agree with some random dude you never saw before, you have to admit he was right.

This was just a waste of time.

"If you can't handle."

"The loving, the smothering."

"Til you can't handle it no more, no more."

"Go home."

You soon learned that the boys name was Alastor and you had to admit that he was such a gentleman. He was always so polite, always opening doors for you, pulling the chairs, helping you with anything you'd ask. He was quite the charmer.

You two quickly developed a good friendship and Alastor even introduced you to his mom! She was such a sweet woman, she raised her son perfectly.

When you first met her you were nervous, very nervous for some reasons, but you relaxed seeing that she accepted you and even made you her famous jambalaya. It was delicious.

"Can we just be honest?"

"These are the requirements."

You were bored, extremely bored, so you decided to write out all of your "requirements". You always heard that you had high standards, but you highly doubt thats true. You just wanted to be loved and accepted the way you are.

You sat on your bed, shuffling through your drawers to find an empty notebook. After some minutes of searching you found it! noting that you have to clean your room soon.

You grabbed a black pen and began writing..

"You must promise to love me."

"And damn it, if you fuck me."

"Over, I will rip your fuckin' face apart."

Your notebook soon turned into a diary. Besides the requirements, you began writing your secrets, likes and dislikes, how's your day been as well as your little crush that you slowly started developing on your friend, Alastor.

You weren't sure that your feelings were reciprocated. Hell, you even began wondering if he thinks that you're his friend. However you had an other mission, finally finding out who your secret admirer is.

"High school sweethearts, line up."

"They're trying to waste my time."

"High school sweethearts, shut up."

"If you're not my type."

It was extremely hard to find out who it is, 'couse you weren't going to school anymore. The letters with a rose attached to it started appearing at your doorstep. "So this certain someone knows where i live.."

You decided to tell Alastor about you secret admirer, thinking that maybe he'd help you find them. He agreed, holding in a laugh at your stubbornness.

You were gathering clues all day but then it was time for Alastor to go back, take care of his loving mother. Before sleep you decided to grab the pen and write something in your diary..

"Step five."

"You can't be scared to show me off and hold my hand."

"Step six."

"If you can't put in work, then I don't know what you think this fucking is."

"Step seven."

"This one goes to eleven."

"If you cheat you will die, die."

As for the guy you went to prom with? You didn't know where he went. He just suddenly dissapered, vanished. Pheraps he moved houses? Maybe he had an accident?

Whatever happened to him, you were glad that he was nowhere to be found. You just couldn't bare to look at his disgusting face, again.

However you discovered something more surprising. You caught Alastor, sneaking in on your parents property and leaving the letter with a rose that knew oh so well.. By now you have a whole bouquet, just like you wanted.

You just wished that he wasn't joking about all the compliments he gave you. That he was just lying, making fun of you. You really wanted for him to be genuine about them, about all the things he wrote.

You decided to keep it a secret, waiting for the proper time to say that you discovered his secret or pheraps when he'll tell you it himself? By now your crush on Alastor has grown so much that you couldn't even look him in the eyes. Always blushing slightly when he's around. You've fallen for his charm.

You had all these fantasies and cravings when it came to him. If you didn't do anything about it you would just burst, so you decided to vent to your best friend.. You diary.

"Could you hold me through the night?"

"Put your lips all over my mine."

"Salty face when I start cryin'."

"Could you be my first time?"

"Eat me up like apple pie."

"Make me not wanna die."

"Love me rough and let me fly."

"Get me up, yeah, get me high."

"Tie me down, don't leave my side."

"Don't be a waste of my time."

Alastor really didn't mean to read it! You just left it open on your desk and curiosity got ahead of him. He really didn't mean to read you fantasies nor your secrets. What kind of gentleman was he?

Then the guilt hit him in the face, he really shouldn't be reading your private notebook. He should respect it, he should respect your privacy.

Alastor closed your diary, in a hurry, when he heard your footsteps getting closer. Quickly sitting on your bed, pretending to be interested with your room decor.

He saw the way you hide the notebook as soon as you saw it laying on your desk. After he asked you what it was you brushed it off quickly. He decided to keep it a secret, waiting for the right moment to confront you. However he was glad that his feelings were reciprocated..

Soon you and your good friend, Alastor graduated highschool. You planned on going to college, however you were struggling with degree course and you didn't have any money.

Alastor, however had full scholarship. He worked hard through entire highschool to go to his dream university. You were so proud of him when you found out about determination.

You got a job at a local coffee shop, as a waitress. It took you a long time but you finally got your first job! Soon enough you moved out from your parents house and rented your own, small apartment.

At first it looked terrible; windows broken, wallpapers hanging off the wall, some of the panels of the floor were missing basically a whole disaster.

But somehow you managed to make it look quite cozy! Of course it took a long time and some financial help from your friend, Alastor. Obviously you told him that you didn't need any help, that you can manage on your own even though it was a lie, however he didn't take "no" as an answer.

You didn't want to admit it but you were extremely grateful for his help. Without him you wouldn't be where you stand right now. He was always so caring, kind and comforting you when you needed it. Such a gentleman..

-"Here's your order Mrs.Lraise. "- You said handling her the coffee and cake she ordered, from the plate with caution.

-"Ah thank you darlin'!" She said not being able to read your name out of the ID. "You're such a sweetheart. "

-"I'm just doing my job." You said before walking away to continue your job. Putting the plate away you heard a familiar voice calling you. You turned around and your eyes were met with the familiar mesmerising chocolatey eyes.

-"Dear, I'm ready to take my order" Alastor stated now putting the menu back on the table. You walked up to him, taking your notepad with the pen from your pocket.

-"Proceed"- In that moment his angelic voice was taking his order. Black coffee with no sugar nor milk, as always. Of course you remembered him order, he was a regular and was your best of the bestest friends.

-"You know i didn't saw you come in." It was a lie, even in this busy cafe your working at you could feel his presence. Your eyes met his as you write his usual on your notepad. -" I'd recommend our new cheese cake, it tastes amazing."

-"Well I can't blame you, I can tell you're quite busy at the moment." He stopped to fix his glasses. -"And thanks but you know I'm not a big fan of sweets."

-"And you know that's our policy to reccoment new things." You chuckled quietly, taking your leave as you heard other, this time unfamiliar voices calling out to you. -"Your coofee soon will be with you, sir."

At the end of your shift you waited patiently for Alastor to come and pick you up. He suggested that, knowing that you end your shift after the sun dissapered. It was quite cute of him. Caring about you like that..

You didn't really want to admit it but your feelings for your childhood best friend never faltered. You knew that woman was basically hanging and fuming all over him and you couldn't bare it. He was a popular radio host, you knew that but oh the jealousy was rising more and more.

Your deep thoughts were interrupted by familiar footsteps and soft humming coming in your directions. You looked up to be met with his soft grin.

-"What's a such a buetiful lady doing alone, at this hour?" Alastor joked around, offering you his hand to hold onto which you gladly accepted. You thought for a moment as you started walking.

-"I don't know, waiting for someone to kidnapp me? Or pheraps waiting for my prince in the shining armour." You decided to play along, chuckling softly. "Is that so?" You heard him mutter. The next thing you knew is that the rest of the walk was surrounded by comfortable silence.

After some minutes of walking, you finally arrived next to your house.

-"You know you didn't really need to walk me home, Alastor." You smiled at him. -"I could manage on my own." You both stopped in front of your front door.

-"Oh please, dear.."- He chuckled. -"I wouldn't want someone ruining this pretty face of yours." He took your hand in his, kissing your knuckled lightly. You blushed slightly at the gesture, not sure if it was noticeable in the moonlight. You both said your goodbyes after that, him leaving you speechless with his charming words and gestures.

You opened your frontdoor, seeing your adorable sleeping cat, Sophia. You were extra careful not to wake her up since she was sleeping on the front mat. Deciding to leave her be, you waddled into your kitchen, wanting something to eat.

Your mind wandering to the events that just happened. You thought carefully about every word Alastor said and then you realized. Almost fainting, your face turned red. "Oh my... Has he called me pretty and buetiful in the same day?"

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #human alastor #human alastor x reader #human! alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #the radio demon #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n

[uramilf]

Mutual Attraction - Part One

University chemistry professor!Matty x reader

A/N: As a triple science student I feel partially qualified to write this lol

Warnings: No smut in this part but mentions of sex, there will be smut in later parts, age gap relationship, teacher/student relationship, making out, mentions of weed and alcohol, smoking

       Y/N Y/L/N stepped into the lecture hall with shaking hands. Usually on first days at school, there was at least the comforting thought that it was everyone else’s first day too, but this wasn’t the case. A burst water pipe in her student housing meant that Y/N was late to move in, therefore late to start university. She considered herself to be late already, after having four years of work and travel after leaving secondary school. Now, at 22 years old, she felt ready to start her new chapter.  Her eyes fell upon him immediately as he sat at his desk typing an email. His dark curls were streaked with grey, a thin layer of stubble growing on his sculpted jawline. He was wearing clear-rimmed glasses that gave him a knowing and mature charm, which was lessened slightly by the boyish smile he gave Y/N as she approached his desk. “Excuse me, sir. Are you professor Matthew Healy?” she asked. “Yes, but please, all my students call me Matty. Professor makes me sound old,” he grimaced. Y/N laughed politely and introduced herself. Matty noticed that she was a pretty girl, with kind eyes and a beautiful smile. He tried not to think too much about it, mind returning to the matter at hand. “Ah, yes! I got an email this morning to say you’d be joining us slightly late. I hope the problem with your housing was fixed?” “Yep, I’m all moved in now. Sorry to bother you, I just wanted to check I was in the right room.” “No worries, Y/N. Take a seat anywhere you like, I hope you enjoy your first class with us.”

       As Y/N neared the back of the lecture hall, she met the gazes of a few of other students who had arrived even earlier than her. A group of them waved her over. There were three of them sitting together: Rhys, who was a tall athletic boy with wavy blonde hair and deep green eyes who was studying chemistry to one day develop his own brand of protein powder. His friends back home in Wales called him ridiculous, but agreed he was going rather far to achieve his goals, so supported him in his business venture. Orla, who had moved from Cork to London and was studying to be a medicinal chemist. Her parents were extremely proud of her choice of career, but hadn’t seen her in person in a few months. She wasn’t worried about this as it had given her plenty of time to dye her hair blue, get a collection of tattoos littered around her hips and lower back, and venture into her favourite form of medicine (marijuana, which she liked to pretend was to help with her joint pain). And Jasmine, an African American girl from New York City whose real future plans involved becoming a music producer, but didn’t have the heart to tell her parents, after her outstanding performance in chemistry throughout high school won her a scholarship to the very course she was currently sitting in.

      It was Jasmine who noticed Y/N first and, ever the social butterfly, called her to sit with them. “Hey! You’ve not been here the whole time, have you?” “No, I’m just starting today.” “Ok thank God, I’d never forgive myself if I hadn’t noticed you.” Y/N laughed. Rhys stood up to allow Y/N into their row of seats, shaking her hand as she passed.  “Sorry for Jasmine,” he grinned. “She feels the need to know everything about everyone.” “Do not!” “You absolutely do!” Orla started to introduce herself as her friends bickered. “Yes, Jasmine is nosy as fuck, but Rhys and I are glad to have her. She’s the reason we’ve all made friends so quickly, her being the biggest extrovert ever and all that.” Y/N chatted to the trio as she fired up her laptop and others filtered into the class. She felt more comfortable seeing that the lecture hall was full of people of all ages, some older than her. Rhys was in his early twenties too, and she agreed with being thankful for Jasmine that she was making some friends who knew what it was like to start uni a bit later.

     Matty stood up and started to speak, going through his powerpoint about redox reactions and reducing agents. Y/N was mesmerised by him; the way he paced as he taught, the way he scattered silly jokes throughout his lecture, the way he pointed to the screen as he made a point. The lecture flew by and before she knew it, Y/N’s new friends were begging her to join them for a coffee in the students hub across the road. “Maybe I’ll pop in later, but right now I have to speak to Matty.” Rhys, Orla and Jasmine left the hall, and Y/N overheard Orla say, “Fuck but he’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Y/N couldn’t help but agree, and took a deep breath to steady herself before approaching Matty’s desk once again.  “Miss Y/L/N! I hope you enjoyed your first lecture with me?” “Oh, absolutely! I’ve been looking forward to getting started.” “I’m so glad to hear it, sweetheart. Is there anything I can help you with?” “Actually, yes. I haven’t had a chance to pick up a textbook yet, and I was wondering if you know of anywhere I could look for a second hand one.” Matty thought for a moment, before shrugging. “You know what, darling, I’ll only be teaching out of this one for a month or so. It’s sort of the beginner book to recap A-Level topics. I have a spare one at home. If you’ll come in a little early next lesson I’ll give it to you.” “Really? That’s so kind of you.” “Absolutely, love. Let’s say you come in about half an hour early next time and we’ll go over what you’ve missed, yeah?” Y/N was ecstatic that Matty had asked her to come early to talk to him. Sure, it was a catch-up session, but still. She left feeling like a giggly schoolgirl with a crush on her teacher, trying to justify her thoughts by telling herself they were both adults, and there was nothing wrong with how she felt. Matty himself hadn’t missed the glimmer in her eyes while they spoke. He had been trying not to let himself get distracted by the soft curve of her breasts, or the way her hips moved as she walked away. She was gorgeous up close, and the more he thought on it after she had left the more he had to try to keep himself grounded.  “She’s a student, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered to himself. “Don’t be a dick.”

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        Y/N was back in her flat staring at Matthew Healy’s facebook profile like an obsessive teenager, heat rushing to her face when she saw the word ‘single’ in his info. She scrolled through his posts for a minute or two, smiling at videos of him dancing with his mates on nights out and holiday photos where he was grinning with a drink in his hand. That smile. Ugh. 

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       Unaware of Y/N’s light social media stalking, Matty was sipping on a pint with his best mate George in a quiet beer garden near his house, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. The September breeze moved his curls gently against his forehead as George spoke, but Matty wasn’t really listening, “All I’m saying is that you should try and get yourself back out there. You haven’t even been on a single date in forever.” “Actually, I met a girl today and I think we really hit it off,” Matty blurted out without thinking, just to get his friend off his back. Fuck.  “Weren’t you at work all day? Better not be a student, Matthew,” George teased. “What?” Matty snapped his head up to look at George. “Calm down mate, it was just a joke.” “Oh. Right. Um, no, I met her in a coffee shop this afternoon. I don’t know, it probably won’t come to anything, but I’m gonna see her again soon.”

      The minute his front door closed, Matty groaned into his hands. Why couldn’t he ever keep his mouth shut? Now George thought he had a girlfriend, and would no doubt want to meet her. There was no way he could tell George that this mystery girl didn’t exist, and the one he had met was really a new student in his chemistry lectures. This was a fucking disaster. 

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       Three days later, on Thursday morning, Y/N made her way into Matty’s usual lecture hall 30 minutes early. He was waiting for her, sitting at his desk. He had moved another chair to a space right beside his, gesturing for Y/N to take a seat. His cheeks went slightly pink when he handed her a cup of coffee, saying “I thought you might want this, what with it being so early and all.” “That’s so thoughtful, Matty. How much do I owe you?” “Oh, nothing, please. My treat.” Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest, but what she didn’t know was that Matty’s was doing the same. He started to talk her through what she had missed in the first week, stammering slightly when their hands brushed as he turned a page in the textbook. Y/N tried, but she couldn’t look at the book as he spoke. She looked in his eyes instead. She could see the whole world in them. She had noticed as she had been getting to know him that they were some of the most beautiful eyes she had seen in a long time.

        Before long their time was up and other students were filtering into the classroom, including Jasmine, Rhys and Orla. Matty started to wrap up his summary, not before exclaiming, “Oh for God’s sake, I’ve left that spare textbook in the car. I’ll get it after class, ok?” He tried to convince himself he hadn’t done it on purpose to talk to her again, but he just couldn’t. 

      Jasmine was enjoying a brief interrogation regarding Y/N and Matty’s conversation. “You’re telling me he just asked you to come in here and talk to him for a whole half hour? Fuck, why didn’t I start a week late?” “Stop that Jas, you’re nineteen! You’re much too young for him. And so is Y/N,” Rhys scolded. “Are you serious? Y/N is the perfect age to have a scandalous little romance with him.” “She is not, that would be irresponsible and ridiculous. She doesn’t like him anyway, do you Y/N?” “Go suck off your personal trainer, Rhys,” Orla jumped in, feeling as though Rhys was being a little protective over Y/N, although they barely knew each other. “Actually Y/N, Rhys poses a valid question. What’s your opinion on the absolute sexiest lecturer I’ve ever laid eyes on?” Jasmine prompted. “Oh, y’know, just that I might be in love with him.” Jasmine cackled at the look on Rhys’s face and replied “That’s my girl.”

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      When the hour-long class was over, Y/N once again allowed the rest of the students to leave before meeting Matty at the front of the room.  “Let’s go get you that book, sweetheart. Couldn’t have such an excellent student failing now, could we?” The pair walked out of the building together, Matty digging in his coat pocket for a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.  “Do you mind if I smoke?” “Not if you give me one.” “I couldn’t possibly condone that, darling,” he smirked. “I’ll give you a drag of this one if you promise not to tell.” He lit the cigarette and took a few deep drags before handing it off to Y/N. He watched her pouty lips as she exhaled the thick smoke, trying not to imagine what it would be like the kiss them right then and there. He took the cig back and inhaled again, throwing it on the ground and extinguishing it with his heel as they reached his car. He unlocked it and grabbed the book from the back, handing it to Y/N. The second their fingers brushed against each other, the light spits of rain that had been building all morning turned into a torrential downpour. Matty and Y/N looked at each other and laughed for a moment, at the awfully cliche ‘caught in the rain’ scenario, until Matty realised they were both soaked to the skin and ushered Y/N into the car. “Shit, where did that rain even come from?” Matty laughed. “Where’s your flat? I’ll take you home.” Y/N froze. Matty was offering her a lift home? Fuck, she was never getting over her stupid crush on her teacher now. “Y/N? Do you not want a lift home? I can drop you at the tube station or something, I understand if you’re not comfortable with me taking you home.” “No! It’s totally fine! I really appreciate it. I live on Elmwood Avenue.”

          When Matty arrived outside Y/N’s building, he parked the car and they sat there for a moment or two, trying to think of something to say. She could feel him looking at her, and she thought he was probably just waiting for her to get out of the car. “Well, thanks again, I should probably g-” Matty cut her off by crashing his lips against hers. She just sat there, not quite knowing what to do. She wanted to kiss him back, she knew she did, but she was frozen. He pulled away, embarrassed.  “Jesus, Y/N, I’m so sorry, I never should have-” It was her turn to cut him off now by placing a hand over his mouth and giggling.  “Don’t you dare be sorry,” she whispered, before pulling him closer by his black tie and pressing her mouth to his again. Y/N could feel Matty smile into the kiss as she tangled her fingers through his dark brown curls with one hand. The other hand cupped his stubble-covered jaw as their lips moved together. One of his hands was clutching at her waist and rubbing circles into her hip with his thumb, the other brushing her hair out of her face. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and she let out a quiet moan, making him laugh. Their tongues fought for dominance for a few minutes until Matty broke the kiss briefly to grab Y/N’s waist and tug her over the centre console to straddle him. He kissed her again as he gripped onto her hips, both her hands gripping his face now. After a few more minutes of kissing him, Y/N pulled back and looked him in the eyes.  “I really do have to go now,” she laughed, stroking the side of his face lightly. Matty melted into her touch and dropped his head down to place a trail of kisses to her jawline and neck. Y/N groaned quietly. “Stop, Matty, you’re making it so hard for me to leave right now.” “Don’t leave, stay with me.” Y/N rolled her eyes and climbed off his lap, opening the car door and stepping out.  “I’ll see you in class, then,” Matty sighed.

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

        Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about what he had said. “I’ll see you in class, then.” It made her feel dirty, and sneaky, but in the best way. She wondered how long she could keep her own scandal quiet. Sure, she would’ve loved to tell Jasmine, but Jas would never keep her mouth shut and she wasn’t sure if Matty would get in trouble if people found out. Y/N knew there were no laws against university professors and students having relationships, as long as the student was of age, of course. Which she was. But a part of her couldn’t help but feel that she was putting Matty in danger. Maybe she would’ve been better off staying away from him. 

           Back in his own house, Matty was drunkenly pacing the floor, freaking out. One part of him was thrilled that Y/N seemed to share his feelings, and the other knew that if he didn’t tell his boss about their interaction, he could lose his job. And although it was allowed, she was twelve years younger than him, and he knew their relationship would be frowned upon by many of his co-workers and other students. Well, maybe not so many students. Matty wasn’t stupid, he knew he was quite a hit with many people in his chemistry lectures, girls and boys alike. But either way, it would be hard for him and Y/N to be together. She would have to switch classes, and he wouldn’t be able to see her pretty face staring up at him during lectures, mesmerised by his voice. Matty’s heart sank. He had gotten what he wanted, but was it worth it?

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       A week later, Y/N’s chemistry class had gathered in Matty’s lecture hall once again. As they were split up into groups to work on a project, she had to fight the urge to not tell her friends about what had happened in Matty’s car. He was much the same, trying his best not to let it slip to George, although he so wanted his friends to know about the amazing, beautiful girl he had met. Y/N told her friends once again that she needed to stay behind and talk to Matty. Rhys raised an eyebrow and Orla and Jasmine nudged each other. “What now?” Y/N snapped.  “You’re spending an awful lot of time in here ‘catching up’. Aren’t you all caught up by now?” “Oh, em, yeah, of course. It’s not about that. It’s just about the project.” “Well, is it anything we could help with?” Rhys asked, clearly trying to prevent further interactions with Matty.  “Oh, leave her alone Rhys! If the poor girl fancies Matty, just let her speak to him. We all have our little teacher crushes, right Jas?” Orla shot back.  “Whatever,” Rhys muttered and stood up, grabbing his bag and storming out the door.  “Jesus Christ, someone’s got a mard on,” Orla said, rolling her eyes. “Ignore him, he’s just being a dick because he doesn’t understand the Lana Del Rey-esque attraction we have to older men.” We laughed until we reached the front of the room, and the two girls left me to chat to Matty alone.

        “Hey, darling, you ok?” Matty smiled softly. “Yeah. I just thought we should talk.” “You’re right, we should. The truth is, love, I don’t think we should take this any further.” He watched Y/N’s eyes widen, giving her a pained expression. It hurt him too to turn down a girl so perfect, but he knew what he had to do. “Look, Y/N. I like you. I really do. From the moment you walked in here, I knew it. You are beautiful. You’re kind and smart and you make me laugh. You’re perfect, love.” “So why don’t you want me?” Y/N asked in a small voice. “I do darling, I promise. But you shouldn’t want me. Having a relationship with someone older than you, especially one of your lecturers, will not make university an easy experience for you. Other teachers might start to treat you differently. You would have to move classes, and everyone would know why. Your peers might look down on you. I don’t want any of those things for you, my beautiful girl. You deserve more than me.” Y/N’s heart was sinking. He had to be wrong. She needed him. She needed him to forget the consequences and just love her like she wanted him to. A tear slipped down her cheek and Matty wiped it away. “Don’t cry, love. I’m sorry. But if we start a relationship with each other, the only law is that I have to tell my boss. And that will only create problems for both of us.” Y/N lifted her head to look at the man in front of her, his glasses slightly askew, hair a mess from how many times he had run his hands through it during his little speech to her. God, she needed him.

“So don’t tell him then.”

         Matty looked at Y/N and saw the lust and the neediness in her eyes. He grabbed her by the hand, convinced that he could feel her blood pulsing through her body when they touched. He pulled her into his small store at the back of the hall and pushed her up against the wall. Much like the week before, his hands roughly grabbed at her hips as he connected their lips.  His tongue was immediately brushing against hers, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip every so often. This kiss was more passionate, more desperate than the one in the car. Matty broke the kiss to bend down slightly and pick Y/N up, her legs tightening around his waist as they kissed again. One hand stayed on her ass, supporting her weight, while the other roamed up and down her back. Both of hers were caught in his hair again. She tugged gently on his hair, forcing a soft moan to leave his lips, which she eagerly swallowed the sound of. Their kissing grew messy, both desperate for each other. But they knew they couldn’t have each other- not there. Matty pulled away and lowered Y/N to her feet. Their lips were swollen and glistening with wetness, and Matty’s eyes appeared to have darkened so much that his irises were nearly black. He devoured the sight of Y/N in front of him, wishing he had the guts to take her right then and there. But he couldn’t. It was irresponsible, basically asking to be caught. Plus, he would make their first time special. 

          Y/N checked the time on her phone and groaned. “Shit, I’ve missed the tube! I’m gonna have to run if I want to catch another one.” “Don’t be silly, I’ll take you home.” “But you did that yesterday. It’s a twenty-five minute drive with the lunch hour traffic.” “Shh darling, anything for my girl.”

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A/N: Yay part one done! That was fun to write, let me know what you think!

#the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty #adam hann #george daniel #ross macdonald #the 1975 smut

[stevenbasic]

GITJ Post 294: Political Rally

This rally is…so great. I am so glad Josie brought me. She, her mom, a bunch of her mom’s friends…they have been to a bunch of these. The election is Tuesday, so this is a big one. So many women! We are taking up, like, all of downtown. No way can they ignore us, we are going to win. Everyone is voting for women, even lots of the men.

‘No, Lakshmi, you cannot go!’ my father had said. He even grabbed my shoulder, as I was walking out this morning. Ahhhh haha I had never done this before but I slapped him away. I left without another word, but I could see the look on his face. He is scared. Haha he is scared.

It is raining but no one cares, we are all so, like, energized. The speakers, now that we are all assembled, after the marches that all met up here in the city center, are very very inspiring. All the candidates for the women’s party - local, state, federal - they are all here. They told us what we can do, on Tuesday. They explained what is going to happen afterwards, when we win. They showed us what life will be like, how it will be different immediately and then a year from now, ten years from now. Omigod. A hundred years from now.

They have had it coming to them, I see it now, for a long long time.

One of the speakers, a professor from Westhall, explained it like this, told our story. A bunch of years ago, like when I was a girl, way before high school, boys had already been hypnotized by the internet, by their phones, by virtual games and fantasy, porn. The technology made it so they could do everything through their screens: school, work, play, jerk off. For women, too, yes, the opportunities were there. But we were different. The boys literally spent all their time in front of their computers. Every year more and more males - of all ages - became addicted to those games and the porn and they became anemic, weaker due to the lack of physical activity. They spent most of their time playing their stupid games, neglecting studies and sports and jobs. They started to fail, intellectually, socially, in their careers. They began neglecting their wives, they were not dating as much.

But women, on the other hand, had started to hit the gyms, to meet their friends and chat, and plan. The more the husbands played games or masturbated, the more the wives worked out, went to classes, got good jobs, made money, set it aside. Donated to causes. It did not seem to bother men that their wives and girlfriends really enjoyed going to the gym, or reading, spending all this time bettering themselves. Firstly, without them around, the men could spend more time on their games, or with their porn, alone, without a girly voice telling them to stop. Secondly, the women started to be more fit and toned and muscular…hot, right? Men were learning to appreciate it, and being a strong woman was coming into fashion. And as the women got smarter, guys started to realize that smart is sexy too, so why complain? They really enjoyed that their wives were becoming more and more healthy, more and more learned, more and more successful. Great if someone else was making the money, now. More time to relax, for us. They actually encouraged their wives and girlfriends to continue. Get bigger and stronger, get smarter and get that big promotion. We’ll see you later…but what’s for dinner?

Women continued to take care of their men, they did. They wanted them to be good partners. They encouraged them, as much as they could, to eat the right way. The new vogue became, for men, training schedules and diets that were planned to prevent any growth or strength development. “Vulni-chic” was in. Softer men, smaller men, thinner men. The ones who worked to reduce their muscle mass, the lean guys were considered the sexier ones. And if you were short, too? Hubba Hubba. The more meager, the better. You’d look good on our strong, toned arm as we strode next to you in our tall heels. 

Boys were now growing up wanting to be thinner, weaker. Sickly was, haha,  something to which to aspire. The new generations of girls coming along, in contrast, were going to be healthier than any before them. With hard training and better food, they were growing naturally tall and strong, while the boys were being left behind, happy to eat the junk food their moms served them. Guys continued to be more and more attracted by virtual games, where they could waste their waning testoterone fighting huge, strong opponents or fucking sexy girls (or, as some of the newer games allowed, fucking huge, strong girls), completely ignoring their wives, not realising they were becoming as sexy and smart and powerful as the virtual girls dancing on their screens. Recently, as male membership dwindled, mixed gyms have begun to disappear, being replaced by 'women only’ facilities. Some colleges have gone back to female-only enrollment. Many companies are hiring in similar ways.

“You're either growing with us…” the speaker continued, from the podium, as if addressing every man on the planet, “or you’re being outgrown by us!!”

As women were becoming more and more attractive, as men’s tastes had shifted to being drawn to more powerful women, some men had started to realize that real life could be as enjoyable as their games. These are the ones that are going to help on Tuesday, in the election. The balance of power will finally forever change and - though there will be complaining - women are not going to accept an about-face in society. We are on our way and we are not going to be stopped. The world is already slowly becoming a matriarchal society, and now it is our turn to fully take the reins.

“By order of the Girl Army,” said the next speaker; a leader of a group of young women who had formed a loosely knit but enormous, nationwide group, “get out and vote!!”

I am voting for the future!

=========================================

Patreon

#growing into the job

[misiwrites]

Mayblade Day 7

[previous: chapter 1 & 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6]

CHAPTER 7 prompt: duty characters: hiromi, salima, emily, kane, takao, mao, rei, max pairings: hiromi/takao, implied kane/salima

Something was off about Salima. Despite the novelty of their friendship, Hiromi could tell.

To begin with, the fact that she’d been coming to class separately from Kane for a week was unusual in the inseparable duo’s standards. At first, Hiromi had thought that perhaps her responsibilities in the council had increased, her schedule no longer accommodating doing everything in tandem with him, and while the former was certainly true with the approaching bake sale and all, they no longer did anything together in class either. And Salima, who was so cool and collected and kind, was suddenly sulky, quiet, and miserable like an abandoned puppy.

Hiromi was surprised when even Emily had no specifics to provide about the situation between Kane and Salima. Apparently Salima was above the gossip mill’s reach; everyone respected her too much to drag her into it. “But they’ve obviously had a fight or something,” Emily concluded.

This all was why, when Salima once again slipped in a request for Hiromi to come see the kendo club’s practice, she finally agreed. If someone new checking out the club would help cheer her up even a little, Hiromi didn’t mind doing it. She’d go with Salima after school.

“Honestly, I would have skipped today otherwise,” Salima admitted, sitting on Hiromi’s desk while they waited for the English class to begin. “The council has so much work right now, and there’s only eight of us.”

“One from each class, right? Who’s in the council from 1-B, anyway?”

“That’s Johnny McGregor. Short guy with maroon hair and band shirts.” Salima added the latter at the sight of Hiromi’s nondescript face.

“The one who always looks angry?”

“That’s the one. Though he’s oddly polite for someone so bad-tempered.”

Hiromi hummed in amusement. “I wonder how someone like him got in when there’s people like Mao, Professor and Max in that class.”

“Not many people applying to join the council, I think. None of those ran for a seat.”

“Really?” Perhaps this shouldn’t have surprised Hiromi as much as it did; Bey Town High wasn’t a big school, so while the council was small, so was the pool of students to choose members from. She shifted her legs nervously, crossing one over the other under the desk to keep her feet from fidgeting. “I, uh, actually kind of wanted to run for a seat… I was a member of my middle school’s council. Well, truthfully, I was the president for a bit.” It was the first time she’d told this to anyone in Bey High.

Salima’s grey eyes widened with surprise. “You were? Why didn’t you run for a seat here, then?”

Hiromi looked down at a pencil in her hand. “I only lasted one year in the council… Let’s just say I wasn’t very popular after getting in.”

For the first couple of months, things had gone well in her old school. Many of her previous friends had migrated into her class and she’d also made new ones. She’d been elected to the student council because she was known to be smart and mature. She’d been so proud of her achievements, and vocal about them too.

But girls in middle school turned out to be a petty, jealous species. Back then, Hiromi hadn’t had the common sense to censor her personality and hold back on impulsive behavior; the position of a student council president had brought out her bossy tendencies at full force. She hadn’t realized how bad it was herself, and nobody had bothered giving her kind, constructive criticism about it. From her perspective, she’d only done what was expected of her and acted accordingly. Been a leader. Before long, she’d earned the reputation of a nagger, a nitpicking bitch – or, more accurately due to her unusual hobbies that everyone loved to consequently pick on, a witch. Associating with her had become a burden to her friends.

“I think you’d do great. You should run next year,” Salima said.

“I’ll think about it…” But Hiromi knew she wouldn’t, not ever again.

“How about the bake sale? Would you like to participate? We need a vendor for our class booth and nobody has volunteered yet. Or, well, one did but I’d rather have some variety.”

Hiromi raised her chin. “The vendors can be someone other than the student representative?”

“Not just that, but I can’t be the one doing it. But I do need to coordinate who’s participating from 1-A.”

“In that case, I’d be glad to do it!”

“Great! You’ll be perfect for it!” Salima whipped out her phone. “Thank you, Hiromi. I’ll add you to the mailing list right away.”

A pleasant warmth set in Hiromi’s heart for the rest of the day.

…Or at least for the remaining classes, for she managed to happily forget for a moment that she’d just promised to go to the kendo club afterwards. She positively froze when Salima was again by her desk at the last bell in the afternoon.

“Ah… yes.” Hiromi slowly swept her belongings into her backpack, side-eyeing the two boys with blue hair already taking their leave together. And just as she did, she caught Kane throwing a wistful glance in Salima’s direction over his shoulder before disappearing through the doorway. Wow. Drama. There really was something going on between those two.

Hiromi was, however, confident to stay out of any drama as she rose from her seat and mentally prepared herself to follow Salima to the gym. She was only here to cheer a friend up, nothing more.

They used the second gym entrance, on the opposite side from the one Hiromi had entered before when visiting the wushu club. The gym was partitioned in the middle to supply enough space for two or more clubs to operate simultaneously, and today she was on the kendo club side. While Salima dropped by the changing rooms, Hiromi remained by the doors, not daring to enter without her.

As much as she’d tried to prepare herself, decided that she’d do this for Salima’s sake, now her heart was beginning its mad gallop over nothing again. She could hear Takao and Kane entering the gym from their respective changing room and getting started. She took a small, deliberate peek from behind the gym doors, making sure to stay hidden while at it.

The boys were dressed in dark hakama, bamboo swords in hand, helmets waiting under their arms. They chattered away while waiting for the rest of the members to arrive.

…It suits him so well. The last time Hiromi had seen Takao in the traditional outfit, they had both been the size of a fire extinguisher and Hiromi had found the baggy clothes with big, sloppy sleeves hilarious for whatever childish reason. Now it looked surprisingly refined on him. Not to mention, this was apparently the only occasion he respected enough to take that stupid red-and-blue cap off. His hair was loose for once. It had grown surprisingly long…

When Salima was ready, she came to fetch Hiromi from the door. Told her that she could join the ceremony if she wanted. Hiromi wished Salima hadn’t come for her – or, well, she did want to join because the ritualistic aspect of the ceremony was fascinating to her and all, but at the same time – her step felt dangerously wobbly as she followed Salima into the gym and could feel all the eyes land on her simultaneously. Salima briskly informed them that Hiromi was there to check the club out and would pair up with her today, end of story.

Hiromi had thought she could follow the practice session by sitting apart from the rest and continue avoiding looking at Takao, as usual. What she hadn’t expected was that Takao was, in fact, the club captain. He was the ringleader of this gathering, the one teaching and motivating the rest; in the short opening ceremony (a bit excessive for a ten-member club, but it did set the mood right from the beginning), he gave a brief but inspirational speech about why they were there that day and how important it was to never lose the spark of self-improvement. The rest, Hiromi included, stood listening in a diligent row and bowed their heads at his brisk command.

It's not like Hiromi hadn’t known that Takao was good – he had to be, given that he’d been doing kendo ever since they were friends. But the level of expertise he displayed while going around helping the club members, fixing their postures and guiding their arms to his best ability, came as a complete surprise to her. He was so… well… mature. In Hiromi’s memory, Takao was a bratty little rascal, always getting himself into ridiculous situations and testing the boundaries of his parents and older brother on purpose; in class, too, the Takao she’d been spying on— er, pretending not to spy on was restless, noisy, spontaneous and a lazy student. But here, in this space, he was someone else entirely. He was, she had to admit, kind of impressive.

By the time the club members began their gradual retreat into the changing rooms, Hiromi’s head was spinning. She got out of the gym the same way she came in and figured it would be polite to wait for Salima. She needed a moment to clear her head, anyway. She leaned against the wall in the corridor outside and stared up at the bleak fluorescent lamp in the ceiling.

Had this been a mistake? Or a good idea? She felt a buzz in her chest that hadn’t been there before, a sort of… excitement, she guessed. One she hadn’t asked for. And neither had she asked for the burning sensation in each spot on her skin that Takao had lightly touched during the practice while helping her fix her posture.

As if Takao hadn’t already been in her mind enough. On and off, every day. She had a feeling that things had just gotten several times more bothersome because of a sport fought with bamboo swords.

The door to the boys’ changing room opened and Hiromi’s heart squeezed with panic for the fracture of a second, until she realized it wasn’t Takao who came out. It was the wushu club members – well, two of them, Mao and the boy with the long, purple hair.

“Seriously, you can’t do this anymore,” the boy told her as the heavy door slammed shut behind them. “Have some respect for the newer members.”

“Bleh, I bet they’re just happy! Bet they haven’t seen a woman in her underwear even once in their lives.”

“Mao…”

“Rei-nii. Oh, hi Hiromi!” She waved at her across the corridor. The boy cast Hiromi a wary look, almost scared.

Hiromi raised a hand in reply. Rei-nii?

But she had no time to grasp this thought further as the door to the girls’ side opened and Salima materialized into the corridor. She immediately wanted to know how Hiromi had liked kendo and was of the firm opinion that the sport suited her very well. Hiromi gave absent responses in the vein of yeah, sure, it was nice, all the while distractedly eyeing the pink-and-purple pair who disappeared behind a corner.

And once they were gone, a familiar blond emerged from behind the opposing corner, one hundred percent looking like he was spying on the couple from behind.

Hiromi was rarely still at school at such late hours. By the time she waved good-byes to Salima, the sun had begun to sink into the westward horizon. Salima had gone to the school’s bus stop; she lived in the north-western corner on the opposite side of the city, in one of the more high-end suburbs with big, beautiful houses, all with their own yards and swimming pools and garden sheds. Hiromi knew Emily to live in the same general direction, too, but had never been to that part of the city herself. An eastern district girl like her had no business there.

Hiromi stopped to check whether her mother had started inquiring where she was by now. She hadn’t. Slowly, she began her way home by foot.

She wasn’t very far into her journey before she began feeling eyes on her back. As a girl who habitually walked around town on her lonesome, she was finely tuned to stay vigilant about her surroundings and could immediately tell when she was being followed.

And the guys after her weren’t even being subtle about it. When she tossed a glance over her shoulder, she saw three of the ugliest chumps alive tailing her with idiotic grins on their faces. They were obviously fellow students, her age or one year older at best. Not too hard to deduce that they were members of one of the shitty little gangs who enjoyed wreaking havoc at school. They had to be Shell Killers; these chipmunks were too pathetic-looking to be members of the Blitzkrieg Boys.

Hiromi’s house was so close, she could easily have sprinted and reached home before these guys ever got her. But it had been a long and weird day and she felt somehow different, emboldened, more like her old, daring self from middle school. A side of her that she’d long subdued was boiling over. It still had its time and place.

She stopped, turned on her heel, and set her hands on her hips. “Hey. What are you doing?”

The boys stumbled on each other. They obviously hadn’t expected her to face them just like that, now their script was ruined and their shit-eating grins wavered as they came to a halt in unison, unsure what to do.

“I asked what you’re doing. You think you’re being cool, don’t you? Can’t imagine anything cooler than following random people on the street, wow. Gimme your names, I’ll let the student council president contact your moms about this. Oh, wait.” She took out her phone and quickly snatched a picture of all three who simply stood there, perplexed. “Perfect. And now your names.”

For one hot minute, the shortest of the boys – who clearly had the most to prove by trying to appear intimidating – was about to raise his fists and leap forward at her. The other two were more sensible and grabbed him from behind, muttering something along the lines of “we’d better go.”

“Bitch,” the short one spat before the three turned and ran away comically fast.

“And tell your boss that he’s a clown,” she shouted after them, then couldn’t resist adding: “The Shell Killers are a circus and Hiwatari Kai is the biggest clown in it!”

That felt good. There wasn’t anyone else around to hear her – or so she thought – but it felt great. Unnecessary and stupid as hell and just right.

Sighing contently, she walked the remaining distance home without anyone disturbing her.

#mayblade #mayblade 2023 #my writing #fic update

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Rich!Phil (2) Masterlist

part one

American Psycho/American Beauty (ao3) - prettysweet

Summary: Dan, the new bad boy, who has been attending Phil’s high school for only a week has girls all over him and everyone knows he fucks girls almost everyday. Two weeks later Dan takes a liking for Phil. They fuck. Dan fucks other people. Phil doesn’t.

Bury Your Flame - botanistlester

Summary: After receiving a dragon egg when his grandfather passed away, Phil is forced to ask for help from the local dragon tamer. As he soon finds out, Dan Howell is nothing he’s been expecting. Infuriating, ludicrous, and completely lacking respect, Dan is everything Phil hates. But Phil will do anything to make his grandfather proud, even if that means getting help from the local cluck.

Crossing the Line (ao3) - dakogutin

Summary: After billionaire Phil Lester meets an unfortunate incident that ends him up in hospital with no memories, Dan Howell— a mistreated employee convinces Phil that he is Dan's working-class husband to get back at him with the many hardships he faced as an employee. What could go wrong?

Imagine Living Like a King One Day - pianodan

Summary: Southview Boarding School isn’t a castle and Phil Lester isn’t royalty, but he has everything. His father owns the school, he’s popular, has the best room, gets all the best treatment – there are very few things that aren’t handed to him on a platter. Dan is a cleaner/Phil’s personal maid there, and he isn’t as lucky. Everyone seems to take an aversion to the outsider, including Phil (at first).

Living is Easy with My Eyes Closed (ao3) - TheUKAmazingDan

Summary: September 19, 1976

Dan Howell liked pretty things and a pretty guy, but not the one who was interested in him. No, Dan was infatuated with someone he couldn't have.

based off of the Colors music video by Halsey.

Sail Away With Me - paradisobound

Summary: It was a fluke. Dan shouldn’t have ever gone with Sam to a party on a yacht. He shouldn’t have trusted her to go. But in a chance encounter, he ends up in bed with Phil Lester, a billionaire CEO of a luxury clothing company. When he thinks he’s screwed up enough, he realizes he’s in way too deep. Because Phil Lester has fallen in love with him. The catch: Dan gave Phil a fake name and all Phil has to remember Dan by is the tattoo on his hip and the necklace he left behind.

Sugar Daddy, Sugar Baby (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Dan Howell is a nineteen-year-old student who is going though the motions. He seeks guidance and companionship, finding it unexpectedly in Phil Lester, a millionaire filmmaker who happens to be seeking companionship and partnership. The two men enter into a consentual sugar relationship agreement that, over time, becomes much, much, more than paper.

Sweet Sugar Meeting - trysomecats

Summary: Rich CEO and businessman Phil Lester is fed up with being lonely, which is why he decides to become a sugar daddy. Dan ends up being the perfect candidate for a sugar baby. 

Take a Trip Into My Garden (Got So Much to Show You) (ao3) - thesassykels66

Summary: Daniel, a polite professional gardener, happens to be in love with someone he shouldn't be.

And his name is Philip.

The Mansion - trysomecats

Summary: Dan is oddly satisfied with his position as a servant for Phil Lester, until he finds out that Phil had originally bought him for things aside from housework. 

The Real Reason Why (ao3) - maytheday

Summary: The Howell family goes to Mrs. Lester's birthday party, where Dan meets a boy named Phil.

~~~~

bad summary (and title, really) but im proud of this one (at least i am rn) so you should read it maybe

The Starbucks Game (ao3) - aby55al (abyssa1)

Summary: Rich boy Phil puts an inappropriate word for his name at Starbucks and his barista Dan gets embarrassed having to say it. Then they have sex.

we’ll never be royals (extended) - phanimist

Summary: royalty au where phil's the kind handsome prince and dan's a poor commoner who dreams of becoming world class musician. phil's parents hold a ball so he can meet his suitors, but he ends up falling for the pianist instead.

#phanfictioncatalogue #rich!phil #rich!phil masterlist #masterlists #au #richpoor #phanfic #phan #phanfiction

[sorryiapologized]

Yes, the boys are drunk the sun is high. Their license plates "live free or die," but it just ain't that simple.

This line always transports me back to the lake. My summertime haven. I was thirteen when my dad purchased a 1996 trailer in the lakefront trailer park. It was more than just a beach escape, that small park was a community that eventually formed a family. We were a rowdy band of kids running around the grass barefoot, swimming, fishing, and competing in made-up games. When we were kids it was that simple. We'd all wear our red, white, and blue on the 4th of July and sing "god bless America" and "take me home country roads" under a painted sky of fireworks.

Though we were different ages, we all seemed to grow up in synch. The only kid the same age as me who went to my school when summer ended never talked to me much at the lake. I didn't care. As we got older the differences between us seemed to become more visible. He was popular and always inviting kids from our school up to the lake in the summer. I had very few friends and was always hesitant to invite them up to my summer haven. The lake felt like a secret place where I could be myself. Nobody cared that I was still running around and playing kid games with my younger sister. I was free.

The boy my age was the party kind of kid. He didn't even need to sneak beer. When we were fifteen he looked like a man. I remember my dad handed him a bud-light once. When I told him later we were the same age my dad just laughed in admiration for him.

Our differences came to a full head-on collision when we were in our junior year of high school. It was the year everyone seemed to learn about politics and where they stood on these issues. I hadn't been that political up until then, but now it was 2016, the precipice of the Trump election. We'd have weekly debates in my APUSH class about issues like immigration, women's rights, and the separation of church and state. I'd get heated arguing with all the guys in my class about these topics. Even though my lake neighbor wasn't in a single AP class (go figure) he caught wind of my liberal leaning politics.

The thing was, my ideologies didn't match my dad's. I knew that. What I didn't know until the next summer was that they didn't match anyone in our trailer park. The boys I'd grown up fishing with were now running around with Trump flags. The fourth of July didn't feel like a celebration, especially not with everyone's dad in a MAGA hat. I kept quiet as my dad and his buddies got drunk and joked around.

Every 4th we had a community corn-hole tournament. I was playing with one of the younger kids I often ended up babysitting while the adults got day-drunk. She would always follow me around. Even back then there was some unspoken connection between us. We were the same. Our competition was my classmate's dad. He stood next to me and nursed a beer while we waited for our teammates (a nine year old girl and his drunk wife) to huck their beanbags at us.

"Are you a liberal or a conservative?" the dad asked me. I don't think he knew my name, but maybe he'd heard about me from his son. I didn't want to get into a fight with yet another idiot or give the community reason to find pitchforks and tiki torches, so I just shrugged. I played dumb. I acted like I didn't even know the difference.

"I can see benefits to both," I lied.

"Well, do you like Lincoln or JFK?" he asked. I didn't know where to start. To inform this adult man that Lincoln was not a conservative, but more of a modern day neo-liberal who was actually still a major racist? Should I talk about the imperialism the Kennedys were responsible for? I just stayed quiet.

That was just a moment, just a snapshot in my childhood. There were hundreds more, tiny instances where people would say things like this to me. He didn't care what I said. What this dad really meant by his question to me was, "are you like us or not?" The answer was always "not." Whether it was my perceived sexuality and gender expression, my tomboyishness that lasted way longer than it should have, or my political beliefs, I didn't belong.

The lake still remained my safe haven, although I found I loved it much more when it wasn't full of people. It was the nature I enjoyed, the solitude, and the community of kids who accepted me despite the differences I showed.

We're in our 20s now. I don't live in my small town, I try to make it back once a year to see the lake, but never on a big weekend like the 4th. My classmate still lives there. He still brings his high school friends up to get drunk on the weekends. Maybe for him it is just that simple, but for me it never was.

I think about the kids I left behind there. The youngest are just now starting high school. They know more about who they are than I did at that age. They know life isn't as simple as a can of beer and a political party. I worry about them often. I hope they become good people. I hope they can get out too.

#summer #nostalgia #childhood #childhood memories #politics #coming of age #conservatives #liberals #noah kahan #paul revere #trump #growing up #sorry for the rant #20 something #rant post

[swiftiesav89]

Putting this in the Universe

When I was little, I really thought things would someday just fall into place. No matter how bad things would get, somehow, I thought once I turned 18 & graduated high school, real life would kick in and I would be a success. I didn’t know what that would look like. I was good enough at everything but math and science. I read so fast and so well at such an early age that I made myself believe I was secretly a genius. All my “what career field should you pursue?” tests came back with the same kind of result - go into the creative fields, my girl, your brain is not built for anything else. At least that’s the message I get now that I’ve become more versed in my own specific kind of neurodivergence and trauma responses. Back then, I was sure it meant I was the next JK Rowling (which, now, ew...) or destined to be a hard-hitting journalist at Rolling Stone. I’ve always believed I have an accomplished writer living in my soul, just waiting for me to put my fingers to a keyboard and allow her to become real. Maybe that’s a delusion of grandeur. We’ll see if I have the energy to find out if I have any potential at all. But now, when I remember those visions of future me, they feel like a daydream. I never knew what steps to take to make any of them happen. I had always been smart enough not to concern anyone and did so well in some situations that they clouded the gaps to any teachers looking for “signs” of learning disabilities. My mom didn’t know that how fast I read and spoke and how lost I would get in my own little worlds and how obsessed I would become over anything I enjoyed were signs of something bigger when considered all together. When I watched Titanic a hundred times in second grade, it was more than Kate Winslet naked that made me do that. I could disappear into a three-hour film (that happened to feature Kate Winslet naked) and then my mind would just replay the film frame by frame in the time I wasn’t watching. When I was twelve, I spent an entire summer watching only The Fellowship of the Ring. I learned the whole script, devoted any amount of money I could get my hands on to buying magazines that I would paste into binders and write elvish phrases and guides and cast lists by hand. I still have one of the binders. It was the ravings of a lunatic, to be honest. At least that’s how it feels now. That obsessive behavior carried over into all my crushes. I was raised to be super religious in a very small Bible Belt town. I was known for my “boy-crazy” behavior regardless of the fact that I was terrified of them. And I’m sure I terrified them. I once got so obsessed over a senior boy when I was in seventh grade that I fished his empty Dr. Pepper bottle out of the trash. Proudly. Then I kept it on my shelf at home like a trophy for 2 years at least. LIKE why the feck that did not set off alarm bells for my adults is incredible. When I became "active" at 16, I wasted my energy on the absolute dregs of the male population at my school, angling for the attention of boys who now make me actively gag and sacrificing all of my self-worth in the process. I went off to college an hour away from home and couldn't keep up with the course load or the responsibility of living on my own while working full-time. I was inspired by the Obama campaign that fall and volunteered all my time. I leaned hard into the idea of politics as a career, only to completely make an ass of myself with a misplaced crush on my field campaign manager while I was also fighting a crush on my best girl friend. I flamed out spectacularly after the distraction of the campaign ended. I couldn't focus on class or show up most of the time and convinced myself I needed to drop out and re-evaluate back home as soon as it got really hard. When I got home, I froze in time and really never unfroze. I've fallen in love and made so much progress in theory. I have made dream trips come true and experienced real, unfiltered happiness and joy. And now I finally love myself but I am somehow still stuck.

#writers #coming of age #honestly #womanhood #actually neurodiverse #its the neurodivergency #sorry im hyperfixating

[hedonisticpursuits]

Realizing That Time is Unattainable

My stepdad is a teacher at a private middle school. I met him when I was five years old, and he had always taught seventh and eighth grade. I had this image in my head for most of elementary school, of the students he taught, who lived fancy lives, with private tennis lessons and horseback riding every weekend with the family horses, tall blonde white girls with long legs and even longer hair. Very rarely, I would go to the school on weekends or on vacation days, and I would walk around the empty campus and imagine myself as one of these seventh/eighth graders. I saw myself grow eight inches, I saw myself have the preppy walk, preppy talk, I could hear the polite giggles. Even at ten years old I would imagine the kinds of secrets these girls would have. The boys they would kiss and the parties they went to where, at the end, all the girls had to make sure they had one cohesive story to tell their parents, afraid of being found out. I was enamored with these students that I had never seen and honestly rarely heard of. But it did not matter if they were real, or if I knew their names, or even if not one person in the school had lived a life close to what my imagination created. They were what I could be one day. One day I would be in the later years of middle school, and I could use them (or what I thought they were) as a guide to be the seventh/eighth grader I loved and wanted to be! 

And then I was in seventh grade, and I seldom remember much. I was definitely not living the preppy life of past me dreams. I remember having a science teacher who would send me to the office almost every class for a couple months. I was outspoken, top of the that class, had an insane amount of attitude and an ego that would intimidate grown men. And then it was over. I was now in eighth grade. I drank, tried drugs, made horrible decisions that still fill me with guilt when I think of the eyes of people I once loved. I made new friends, betrayed old ones, kissed my first boy, and then it was over. 

And what made me first realize that time was slipping from my fingers, was that I would officially always be older than the students that my step dad taught. It was not that high school was around the corner, or that I was already at an age where I was experimenting with drugs(which i'm aware is very young but that is what happens when you are raised in Los Angeles), or the eyes of older men on my developing body - granted all of these things would eventually send me into a sad realization that childhood could no longer exist for me. I realized time was starting to become a finite resource when the years of daydreaming of seventh/eighth graders lives, no longer made sense. At that point it would just be really creepy. But how could that be? I would lay in bed wondering how I have already surpassed a moment of anticipation, realizing two years is really not that long, constantly being told that the four years of high school would go in the blink of an eye. Time time time time time. It wasn't until up to that point that I had urges to grab onto time, to grab the hands of a clock and dig my feet into the ground, to simply just ask it to slow the fuck down. 

I have recently had a moment like that again. The realization that I was now a young adult. That I am at an age where I have many times imagined what life would be like for me. I would try to imagine what I looked like, what I would be doing, what I would be studying in school, who my friends would be. I would not say that the moments I anticipated are over, but they are in the now. And that now is in the past and I'm constantly in a new now of my young adulthood. And that moment of my young adulthood just passed, and I am now in a new moment of my young adulthood. Yes, all these moments I just mentioned have been spent in my bed, procrastinating going to the gym, but these moments will all eventually add up to the years of my life. Time is always breathing over my shoulder letting me know it is ready to go further no matter what I have to say about it. I can't grab its hand and pull it back, or tell it to wait for me because I need to tie my shoes really quickly. I have a hard time feeling like i am moving at the same pace as time, I have many times declared time my enemy. Still for time to be something that I say I hate so much, all I want is for it to last longer. For the moments I have spent 12 years anticipating, to last longer than what two years felt like. For my young adulthood to not count the moments of time where I am counting the moments in time. But time is forever slipping from my grasp, because that is what it is meant to do. And I am always chasing it, cursing it, and loving it, because that is what I am meant to do.

#prose #writing #time #lol #blog post #my childhood

[goldenshoyo]

Taste like Strawberries - DILF Daichi

Warnings: Fem!Reader, age gap (Reader is 22 and Daichi is mid to late 30s), daddy kink (obv), brat taming, finger sucking, spit kink sorta, dumbification, degradation, thigh riding, oral (m. receiving), rough sex, a little praise, alcohol consumption. (as always, let me know if you want something else tagged)

Word Count: 4.9k (honestly idk how it got so long hahaha sorry)

Author’s note: This is my contribution to @kaijime's dilf collab! Make sure you go check out the masterlist and read all the wonderful works on there as well! Also, I edited this at 2am; so sorry if it is a mess.

--

Can you pick Mei up for me? I have to work late.

You sigh looking down at the text from your sister, this is the third time in the last few weeks she’s sprung this on you. Despite knowing there’s nothing she can do about it, it’s irritating with her husband traveling and needing to work. The one good thing is the quality time you get funny spoiling your niece after school, getting her whatever junk food she wants that your sister never lets her have.

Texting her back that you will, you go back to studying. Your final year of college has been more stressful than you expected, work always piling up with your motivation lacking. No wonder so many students take an extra year. However, you were determined to finish now and not extend your torment any longer.

Glancing at your phone you see it’s nearing pick-up time at Mei’s school. You clean up the library table, shoving your laptop and notes into your bag, and leave. The drive isn’t long, her school is close to your apartment and sister’s house so you would have needed to take this route anyways. Pulling into a free spot near the school, you leave your bags in the car going out to meet her by the school’s front gate.

“Big sis!” Your niece squeals and you look up from your phone. She’s dragging another little girl behind her, pulling her your way. “This is Kaiya! She’s my best friend. She said it's okay I use her first name, so don’t scold me like momma does! I let her call me Mei too!”

You laugh listening to her babble on about her new friend. She’s coming up on her 6th birthday, and every day she is growing more and more into her own personality. “I wouldn’t scold you like your mother. You know that,” you bend at the knees, getting at their height.

“Hi Kaiya, I’m ----. It’s nice to meet you.” You shake her little hand and she smiles.

“You’re very pretty, like Mei.” She pulls her hand away and then her lip pouts. “I wish I had a big sister.”

“I can be your big sister too if you want. Mei, you don’t mind sharing me do you?”

“Only if you promise to get me ice cream.” Her eyes and nose squint and she laughs, her mischievous face has stayed the same since she was a toddler. It’s impossible to resist.

You stand up, rubbing her head and laughing. “Fine, we can stop by a shop on the way home.”

“Sorry,” a deep male voice comes from a few feet behind you. “I had a work thing... I’m sorry I’m a little late baby.”

You watch as a tall, broad man picks up Kaiya while she giggles and wraps her arms around his neck while squealing ‘daddy’. You smile politely when he looks at you. His face is handsome, features not too sharp or round; everything about it warm and inviting. He’s still dressed in his uniform, well besides the jacket. You assume he’s a part of the police force from the pants and belt he wears matched with a dark blue shirt that clings to his form.

“I hope she wasn’t bothering you,” he says while setting her down.

“Oh of course not. She was very polite and well behaved. You’ve raised a great daughter.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thank you. I’m Sawamura Daichi, and you are?” His smile is so cute, you think. It’s not forced or out of politeness, but instead genuine happiness.

“---- -----,” you tell him and shake his hand. He squeezes it once, and your stomach turns. What was that?

“Is Mei yours?” He tilts his head, eyes going between you and your niece. “I’ve never met her mother, only your husband. Kaiya talks non-stop about Mei when she’s home with me.”

“Oh, no-no. I’m her aunt. My sister works a lot, so I pick her up from time to time.” You laugh. “I go to the local college, so it’s close by. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Sawamura.” Trying to keep yourself from becoming too flustered, you look away. Watching as your niece digs through her backpack for some reason.

“Please, call me Daichi. It’s nice to-”

“Daddy, big sis is taking Mei to get ice cream!” Kaiya cuts him off. “Can we go too? Pretty please!” She kisses her father’s cheek, smiling brightly as he sets her back down. She holds tight to his hand, begging some more.

“If it’s okay with your dad, we don’t mind. Do we, Mei?”

She nods with a big smile. “Kaiya they have the BEST strawberry flavor.”

“Do you mind? I don’t want to impose on your time with Mei.” Daichi asks while still keeping an eye on the girls, who have wandered a few feet away while blabbering about ice cream flavors.

“Of course not. It’s good for young girls to spend time together.” He nods and thanks you. “There’s a spot close by. We could walk if you don’t mind.”

“Better wrangle the girls then,” he laughs, walking towards them both and getting their attention.

Taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh, you try and relax. It’s just ice cream for the girls… even if Kaiya’s hot dad is coming along. You’re sure he’s just trying to be nice and let his daughter have a nice time. However, it’s hard not to feel something when a man this hot and good with children is around.

The ice cream shop has a pretty outdoor area off the back of the shop, fenced in with a swing set and other children’s toys and playsets. No one else is visiting currently, so the girls have the playground to themselves, running around with ice cream dripping all over the ground when they forget they should be holding the cones up. Sitting quietly, spooning ice cream into your mouth, you try not to stare at Daichi too often.

“What are you studying?” He asks, breaking the silence that was threatening to become awkward.

“Oh, uh,” you swallow the cold cream. “Literature and classics.”

“Interesting. I bet you enjoy reading to your niece then,” he smiles at you before taking another spoonful of ice cream. You can’t help but watch his tongue dart around the spoon.

“Yeah.” You say quickly looking away. “Mei enjoys it, well, when she pays attention. Does Kaiya like stories?”

“Her mother says she always listens to her when she reads, but for me, it’s hard enough to get her to go to bed. I don’t think she’d ever stay still to let me read her a book.” He continues to talk about the weekends he gets with her, and you listen closely.

It’s stupid, you think. You shouldn’t feel this excited that he’s either divorced or at least no longer together with Kaiya’s mom. It’s selfish, but lucky in some ways. You don’t have to worry about a jealous wife coming after you because her husband paid for your ice cream.

“I’m not around for bedtime, so I can’t really relate.” You say softly and stick your tongue out lick the spoon clean. Stopping yourself from licking the ice cream off, deciding to explain more, “Mei never really stays the night anyway. She gets too worked up without her-”

The spoon is plucked from your hands and you frown looking at Daichi, who has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “What do you like to do at bedtime?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you stutter out something incoherent. Daichi’s tongue swipes up your spoon, and you watch carefully, longing to be that spoon as his tongue drags across it.

“Well?” He continues, then hands you back the spoon.

“I, uh, I don’t know.” You manage to stutter some words, even if it's not a real answer. “I uh-”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t need to answer now. Let me see your phone,” he asks holding out his hand and you hurry to hand it to him. He puts in his number then hands it back to you. “I’m not free on weekends unless I get a sitter. But, I’ll see you around.”

You sit, stunned by how quickly that turned from a polite playdate for your niece to potentially a playdate with Daichi. You bring your hands to your face, trying to compose yourself before waving at both Daichi and Kaiya as they leave.

“Big sis,” your niece wines. “Wanna go home.” She pulls you from the park bench and through the shop while you continue trying to collect your thoughts.

Did you really just pull a dad? There’s no way he was serious, right?

--

You texted him the night after you got ice cream, but he hadn’t responded. It wasn’t until late Sunday evening he sent back a short ‘you’re welcome’ after you thanked him for the ice cream. Your face burned and your stomach twisted with every flashback to watching his tongue slide across your spoon.

It was so unnecessary.

It was so hot.

Gathering up the courage to ask when you could see him again took another day and liquid encouragement. Maybe texting him while you were drunk wasn’t the best idea, but it did make sending him photos of yourself a lot easier. The ones you got in return nearly made you drool. Joining the police force ensured he never lost his perfect physique. Every inch of him looked like it had been handcrafted by the gods themself.

Slipping your fingers into your panties and toying with your desperate clit was all too fun when he called you late that night, not caring about his early morning shift or the classes you may have. His voice breathy and deep, yours whiny and high pitched when you came around your fingers begging him to come over and fuck you.

He only laughed, telling you to wait until he had a day off.

--

Sitting across from him at dinner should be fun. He keeps the conversation going and you always paid attention and politely answered. However, it becomes increasingly obvious that the burning between your thighs is becoming unbearable.

“Check please,” he tells the waiter, and you nearly squeal with excitement.

“Mind if I go get some fresh air while you settle the bill?” You ask, placing your hand over his; thumb drawing circles on the back of his hand.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He smiles at you and you walk out of the door, ignoring the way his eyes make you feel as you walk out the door.

Cool evening air hits you hard. Letting out another sigh, you laugh at yourself for acting this desperate in public. He must know. It’s not like you’ve been good at hiding it. You’re worse than a cat in heat, mewling for attention and a quick fix.

“Ready?” His voice startles you and you turn to face him. You nod and he extends his hand out for you. The walk to his car is short, and you’re grateful for the dim lighting in the parking garage once you slide into the passenger seat.

Unable to can’t wait any longer, you straddle his lap in his seat and he tilts his head, looking up at you in amusement. Kissing his neck, you run your hands down his chest and slowly grind against him. His firm hands hold your hips and you whimper, trying to convince him to give your body more attention.

“Daichi,” you whine against his neck. “Please, I need-”

You’re stopped as his hand takes control of your jaw, cheeks squished in his hand while he admires you above him. His gaze is intense, not a hint of a smile or enjoyment on his face, but the bulge in his pants hints otherwise. You frown looking down on him, irritated this is the most he’s touched you all night.

“I don’t like brats.” He says simply. “Impatient ones are even more annoying. Tell me, are you going to be an annoying brat?”

You try and shake your head no, barely getting it to move from side to side in his grip.

“Good,” he releases your face and you sigh. Rubbing your cheeks with your fingers you relent from trying the aggressive approach with him; seeing now he’s much less patient than you had expected. “Now can you wait until Daddy takes you home?”

You nod, a smile brimming on your lips while your stomach turns.

“I want to hear you say it.” His eyes somehow focus on you more, making your stomach twist once more.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.”

The rest of the drive is silent, his hand resting on your exposed thigh a little too close to the hem for comfort. It keeps your mind buzzing, every nerve lit aflame at the slightest bump in the road or motion of his fingers. His thumb occasionally draws circles on your sensitive skin, and the whimper that always leaves your lips feels embarrassing.

Are you really a whimpering mess already?

Everything about being with Daichi made you feel more intense like your body knew just how to react to everything he does and says. Was it the age difference and excitement? Or was it simply because he knew how to touch and speak to you?

“Sweetheart?” Daichi’s voice draws your attention and you look over to him. “We’re home now. Be a good girl for me, and go unlock the door.” He dangles the keys in front of you and you take them nodding.

“Yes sir,” you slip out of the car. Did you call him sir? At the moment it felt right, but now with your face burning and palms sweating you wonder if he thinks it’s ridiculous.

You unlock the door, pushing it open and standing awkwardly waiting for him to walk up the stairs to the front door. Why is he prolonging this? There was no reason for him to stay behind. Turning your head to look where he parked the car, you see he’s talking to a neighbor, laughing, and paying you no mind.

What’s his game here?

You huff, frustrated, and embarrassed with how desperate you’ve been acting and he seems to not have a care in the world. Stepping inside, you close the door and take your shoes off. He doesn’t mind you having access to his house with you unsupervised. After all, he did give you the keys to unlock the door.

His home looks comfortable and lived in, not overly clean but not messy per se. You sit on the couch, crossing your legs and laying your head back. While you know it’s rude to begin feeling this irritated, if something didn’t happen soon you were going to have to call for a ride and get home to a toy or even indulge in one of the sleazy dating apps you’re all too familiar with.

Pulling out your phone, you respond to a few notifications you garnered over dinner, nothing of real substance, but better than sitting in silence. A few friends have invited you to a bar not too far from your location, and you consider it, but the front door opening grabs your attention.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart.” He smiles at you and you lay your phone down on the cushion beside you, feeling like you’ve been caught texting in class. “I see you made yourself at home.”

“Oh, I-” you stand up, even more embarrassed.

Does he take pleasure in making you uncomfortable or are you just too on edge?

“Sit back down,” he laughs walking into the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”

“No thank you,” you answer quickly, sitting back down and laying your hands in your lap to fiddle with your fingers.

He comes back into the living room with his shirt unbuttoned a few, his chest peeking out, and a beer in his left hand. Sitting on the recliner adjacent to the couch, he motions for you with his pointer finger then pats his lap. Your body moves without thinking, straddling him with your knees sinking into the soft cushion of the recliner on either side of his hips. He grins watching your dress ride up your thighs before he takes a drink from his beer.

“Why are you acting so shy now? What happened to that confident little attitude?” He sets the beer down on the table between the couch and chair.

“Why are you toying with me?” You ask, furrowing your brow and tilting your head. “Just fuck me already.”

“There it is,” he chuckles. “You’re not as good of a girl as you think. You’re nothing more than a spoiled brat who needs put in her place. Lucky for you, I know just how to handle bratty girls like you.”

His thumb pulls on your bottom lip and you part them, letting his middle and index finger slip in and press against your tongue. You moan at first, grinding your cunt against his thigh before his fingers slip further in and make you gag. Closing your eyes you grind on him harder, the gagging only intensifying and your body lighting on fire.

“Pathetic,” he laughs while resting his cheek against his hand. Opening your eyes more you see he looks unamused, even as he shoves his fingers down your throat more. “Moaning like this over what? I’m barely touching you.”

You moan again, pressing your core harder on his thigh and whining. Your fingers dig into the arm of the recliner, steadying yourself while you ride his thigh. It feels too good to stop, the minute amount of pleasure intensified by Daichi’s fingers in your mouth.

“Maybe I was wrong,” his voice making you whine again. “Maybe you’re not a brat, just a dumb little slut desperate to cum.” Removing his fingers from your mouth, you take deep breaths, coughing and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“P-please,” you beg. “Please fuck me, daddy. Wanna feel you in me. I’ll be good, I swear.” You sound desperate, you know it and so does he.

“Do you think you deserve it?” He rubs the spit from his fingers onto your cheek while holding your jaw. He shakes your head back and forth slowly as a no for you. “That’s right. You don’t deserve daddy’s cock.”

“B-but-” you whine and grind against him. “Please!”

“Hmm,” he hums, releasing your jaw and licking his fingers clean before taking another sip from his beer. “Maybe if you earn it. I’m not in the mood to fuck an ungrateful whore.”

“Anything!” You nearly shout, eager to please him.

How you’re feeling is different than usual, the need to do whatever Daichi wants completely takes over your own desires. While the feeling is new, it’s something you want to continue to chase. Your head feeling lighter and body burning is all too good to give up now.

“Do I need to tell you what to do?” You nod. “Of course,” he chuckles, “silly of me to forget you’re nothing but a dumb brat. Get on your knees in front of me. Put that mouth to good use for once, won’t ya?”

“Yes daddy,” you say quietly, sliding onto the floor and tugging at his pants.

His belt is a struggle, and he makes no attempt to help you until you’re sliding his pants and boxers off and he lifts his body up just enough to get them down his thighs. Gripping his cock, your mind races wondering if you’ll even be able to fit his girth in your mouth as your fingers barely manage to wrap around him.

“If I finish this beer before you make me cum, I might not fuck you at all.” He says tapping your forehead with the cold glass bottle. “Do you understand?”

You nod again and he leans back into the recliner. Precum leaks from the tip and you wipe it up with your tongue, enjoying the taste as it floods your senses. As your tongue swirls around the head and your warm mouth takes him in, he moans.

It’s quiet and short-lived, but enough to encourage you to take more of him. He fills your mouth so quickly, but you’re determined to make him cum; unsure if it's because you’re desperate to be fucked or if you just really want to please him. Either way, you’re going to have him cumming in your mouth in minutes, you know you can.

You gag loudly when you force him into your throat, nearly taking him to the hilt. This time his moan is louder and longer, making you buzz with pride. Managing to keep him deep in your mouth you rub his balls with your shaky fingers while setting a steady pace bobbing your head up and down.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I guess that mouth is useful for something…” another moan breaks his last word but you don’t care.

The condescending praise just enough to make you hum against him with glee. He bucks his hips when you do, his fingers tangling in your hair and forcing you to choke on him again. You claw at his thighs, desperate to come up for air while you fight against him. He releases the tight hold and you take him out coughing as you stroke him with your hand.

You watch with a frown while he drinks on his beer again, watching carefully as the faint line of liquid lowers nearing the bottom of the bottle. You can do this, you tell yourself before taking a deep breath and taking him back in your mouth. Humming against him lightly while massaging his balls in your palm earns the same reaction, except you’re better at keeping a steady pace now.

“Shit,” he groans.

His cock twitches against your tongue and warm spurts of cum coat your mouth before you can swallow fast enough. He pulls you off his cock by your hair.

“Tongue,” he says and you stick it out timidly.

He spits on your tongue before pulling you to his face and kissing you, his tongue invading your mouth and making you gag at the taste of his beer. His kiss takes your breath away, literally struggling for air as he continues. You’re coughing and pulling away from him while a mix of spit and cum runs down your chin.

“I didn’t think you could do it,” he admits. “I’m surprised someone as desperate and stupid as you could make me cum that fast. I suppose I should reward you then, hmm?”

“Please daddy, please,” you beg. “Want your cock in me so bad.”

His hand slips under your dress and rubs against your soaking panties. “You really do want me, don't you baby?”

You nod.

His free hand gropes your breast, pinching your nipple through the thin material of your dress. You close your eyes biting your lip as you enjoy the not so soft touches he gives you. You moan when his fingers slip into your panties, sliding against your puffy clit.

“Daddy!” You squeal when his middle finger slides inside of you and curls. “Fuck, more please.”

He laughs, pulling his finger out and standing up. He sheds his clothes while you remain on your knees in front of him. You can’t help but admire how good he looks above you like this. Honestly, you think you’d do anything to remain in this moment even if the anticipation of him splitting you open is forcing you to clench around nothing.

Daichi offers you his hand and he assists you in standing to your feet, but it doesn’t last long. He bends you over the arm of his recliner in seconds, pulling your dress down and allowing your bare breasts to fall from it.

“Tell daddy what you want,” he teases while rubbing his cock between your folds.

“Want your cock!” You turn your head back to look at him. “Please, I need it.”

“Good fucking girl,” he groans while sliding inside of you.

Even with your intense arousal and the spit on his cock, it stings. Your body goes limp against the arm of the recliner as you try and relax your body to let him in. Crying into the cushion, you try to not be too loud while getting used to his size.

“If I’d known you’d be this tight, I would have fucked you sooner,” he says after fully sheathing himself inside of you.

He isn’t nice enough to give you more time, too overwhelmed with the way you squeeze him so nicely to not start thrusting immediately. You cry out when his cockhead hits deep inside of you, pulling against your walls as he pulls back out only to do it all over again.

It hurts. It feels ethereal.

“Daddy!” You whine as his fingers twirl your nipple between them and he holds you back against him while relentlessly pounding into you. “Too much!”

“Be a good girl,” he hisses. “I know you can take it.”

You whimper in response, his thrusts forcing your breasts into his hands while he continues to assault them. Your thighs begin to shake and your core feels like it’s a tightwire about to break.

“Wanna cum!” You tell him, some part of you knows it's better to warn him or ask instead of letting yourself go. “Please, daddy! Let me cum.”

“Aw, my little slut is learning,” he chuckles, thrusting deep into you and letting you fall back onto the recliner. “Go ahead, cum for daddy. Cream all over my cock sweetheart.”

He hits the sweet spot inside of you once more and you come undone, cumming around his cock and crying out a mixture of daddy and curses. He grunts as you clench around him, body pliable for him to hold you closer while rapidly fucking you.

He cums, and you feel it drip out of you around his cock before you comprehend what’s happened. You’re too fucked out to even care if you’re honest. He pulls your panties back to the side as he pulls out of you.

“You’re going to keep it all in, aren’t you?” He pulls his pants back on, leaving his shirt on the floor and sitting on the couch.

You nod, pulling your dress back over your breasts and adjusting the thin straps back to a comfortable position on your shoulders. He pats his lap again, and you sit across him, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your cheek against his shoulder.

A knock at the door startles you and you look at Daichi with a concerned face.

“Oh,” he laughs. “I lost track of time. Can you get that?”

You sheepishly nod. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I need to go grab something from my room. I’m sure you can handle it.” He disappears down the hall.

Running your hands through your hair to make sure you don’t look crazy, you open the door.

“Oh,” a sharp tone greets you.

“Big sis!!” Kaiya screams, jumping up and down and running inside.

Shit.

“Uh,” who you assume to be her mother says shaking her head. “Is Daichi here?” She’s irritated, and reasonably so. “I need to speak with him immediately.”

“Yeah, he’s right-”

“What do you want?” He appears back into the living room, pulling a loose shirt over his head as he comes in.

He easily could have done that before. Is he doing this on purpose?

Oh god, he is.

You look quickly between the two of them as he steps in the doorway with you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“I think we need to speak in private.” His ex tells him, eyeing you up and down.

“Sweetheart, do you care to take Kaiya to her room to play for a few minutes?” He kisses your forehead and you look away from the intense glare you receive from Kaiya’s mother.

“Daichi! Why are you-”

“Stop,” he says loudly. “---- can watch her for a moment.” He lets go of you.

“Can you show me your room Kaiya?” You ask sweetly and she takes your hand and guides you down the hall.

You’re not sure if you’re grateful Daichi got you away from his ex or if you’re happy Kaiya won’t have to see her parents bicker. Either way, it’s a win for you. Your heart is beating against your chest, making you nauseous. There’s no way he just forgot he was getting his daughter tonight.

You’re flattered that he used you to make her angry, but the more spiteful part of you wishes he had let you in on it a little more. Having you answer the door was good, but you could have left your hair a mess or something more…

“Big sis, why are you here? Did you and daddy have a playdate?” She asks, handing you a stuffed rabbit while you sit on the floor of her room with her.

“Uh,” you giggle. “Yeah, we had a playdate.”

#dilf collab!! #daichi sawamura #sawamura daichi x reader #sawamura daichi smut #daichi smut #dilf daichi #daddy daichi #hq smut #haikyu smut #haikyuu smut

[therealvinelle]

Ok I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I'm just now copying your Norwegian Bella AU into a text translator, and if you don't already have 50 people in your inbox demanding a translation then shame on ALL OF US because this is glorious! And while Google Translate does have a certain charm (it translated "piper hun ut" as "she beeps") I'm curious to see how you'd put it in English.

Troquantary is referring to this post. In which Bella doesn't speak English.

Fun fact, you're the only one who's gone into my inbox to request this. I was so sad, had the translation half-written and everything, but I was too proud to beg. So thank you, Troquantary, for popping this ask.

As for the dictionary fuckups, sounds about right. I made a few typos, too, that made Google Translate suffer even more. (Such as managing to mix up "henne" (her) and "hendene" (hands), resulting in Aro patting Bella instead of clapping his hands. Poor Google.)

Also, there are a few cultural references and language things that would be lost in the translation, in an attempt to keep them I included notes clarifying things.

Some things, like Aro and Carlisle's very old man way of speaking, are easier said than done to translate, you'll have to bear with me there.

Additional notes are that I added a few things to this version, many of them because translating is hard, but a few because while translating I thought "oh you know what would be much funnier-" and then wrote that.

Alright, without further ado:

When Renée left Charlie she did not go to Florida, she went to Oslo. And she went all in to make her daughter a true Norwegian, hiring Norwegian nannies and making sure never to speak English around the child. Since transatlantic flights are expensive, little Bella Swan rarely got to visit her father, and as such she never did learn what should have been her native language.

She quickly forgot what English she did have in favor of Norwegian, with the exception of words like “Yes”, “No”, and “I’m Bella”.

The few trips she took to visit her father were all the more awkward than in canon since she couldn’t play with the Black kids. Let not the blame fall upon Charlie: he took Norwegian classes and speaks conversational Norwegian. He can’t speak to Renée, because her Norwenglish is incomprehensible even to Norwegians, but he can communicate with Bella.

Not that he’s had a lot of chances to do so.

Bella makes it to seventeen years old, she’s in second grade at Handels* and is a major outsider among the preps there, and then Renée marries a handsome skier**. Together they shall travel the continent all winter to participate in as many skiing races as they can, and in the summer they’ll take gigs at Hurtigruta to see the coast.

*“Handels” is the nickname for an Oslo high school infamous for its pupils being rich and beautiful blonds who are going to be CEOs when they grow up.

**Skiing as a sport is huge in Norway

***Hurtigruta is a famous ferry that travels across the Norwegian West coast

Bella, who sucks at skiing and is too young to work at Hurtigruten, takes the hint.

With dread in her stomach and dictionary in hand she goes to her father in America.

Where she doesn’t speak the language.

Faen.

Charlie gives her a car, and I wish this meta was set in the present because I could have joked about electric cars and the automat only driver’s license*, but Twilight is set in 2005 so I can’t. The car part proceeds without drama.

*An increasing number of Norwegian youth take the driver’s license for automatic cars only, and we’re the country in the world with the highest percentage of electric car purchases.

School is worse than in canon, because she is now a thousand times more sensational than if she was merely the new student. She is from another country! All of Forks keels over with excitement.

To make matters even worse, our girl doesn’t understand a word of what people are saying.

She is too awkward to let them know she doesn’t know English. It’d become a thing, and they might think she’s dumb. To be fair, it’s not good that she’s been through primary, secondary, and now a year and a half of high school and still sucks at English.

So she nods, smiles, mumbles “Hi, I’m Bella” to the new faces, and blushes heavily when anybody says anything.

People assume she’s shy. That’s a bit boring, but oh well.

She has her biology class with the redhead hottie she noticed during lunch. She watched him and his family, they were fascinatingly pretty, but she doesn’t know anything more about them. Sure would have been great if she could have asked the tiny girl (was it Jess?) about them.

Biology proceeds as in canon - Edward badly wants to eat the delicious girl, but fortunately doesn’t.

She runs into him in the office when he tries to switch to another biology lesson, but she has no idea what he’s saying so she only has the suspicion that this somehow concerns her. Which is still uncomfortable, but Bella is probably the problem here. The hottie surely can’t be.

He’s missing from school for a week, Bella finds that weird.

He returns, and to her great horror he starts talking to her.

“Hello”, he says.

Bella dies inside. He’s too handsome!

"I'm Edward Cullen," he continues, and ok, she got that. The hottie is called Edward, that’s good to know. She’s not sure she caught that last name, though, Köln?

He says something else, it’s gibberish to Bella even though she’s concentrating, and at the end there he says “Bella Swan”.

She gulps.

"I'm Bella Swan," she confirms and nods. That should be correct. God, she hopes it’s correct.

He smiles a crooked, boyish smile. She’s awed. She didn’t think it was possible to be so beautiful.

He says something else.

Bella didn’t catch it.

She blushes even harder, she hasn’t been more embarrassed in her life. Here he is, the most handsome guy in all the world, and she has nothing to say to him. Literally, they don’t speak the same language.

She should tell him.

It’s one thing to chicken out of telling the town she doesn’t speak English, but there’s something different about Edward Cullen. He deserves the truth.

But...

He’s the most beautiful person she has seen in her life. He is American, too, so the odds of him knowing Norwegian are microscopical. If he finds out she doesn’t understand a word he says he’ll stop talking to her, and selfish as she is she doesn’t want that.

So with a slightly guilty conscience (but not enough to fess up) she contributes to the conversation with enough words and smiles to pull through. "Yes", "No", "Thank you", and "That's nice".

He is surprised by several of these answers, but instead of giving her odd looks and losing interest he grows more invested in the conversation.

Class ends.

The next day the near accident happens, and he saves her. She is stunned - dear god, did he just pick up a whole car? After teleporting across the parking lot..?

Soon she’s in the ER, and more than a little bit stressed about that fact since she knows the Americans have a terrible healthcare system.

She hopes Charlie has an insurance.

An insanely beautiful man walks into the ER, and Bella is shocked. He is just as handsome as Edward and Edward’s lunch friends!

He introduces himself as Carlisle Cullen, and Bella can only assume this is someone’s older brother. Possibly related to the blonde girl.

He smiles at her, says something, and she answers, "I'm Bella Swan."

He frowns.

That must have been the wrong answer, then.

His hands return to investigating her scalp, and to her great surprise he switches to perfect Norwegian, "kjenner De* noe ubehag når jeg holder her?" Do you feel any discomfort when I touch here?

*De is the Norwegian polite pronoun for “you”. Du = thou = the French tu, and De = you = the French vous. These polite pronouns went out of use in the 1980’s, save for when addressing royal persons, and would be considered antiquated in 2005.

He hurries to add, "Norsk lærte jeg i... fjor sommer. Det var et nettkurs." I learned Norwegian… last year. Online class.

"Hvilket da?" Which one? Bella asks, because Charlie needs to hear about this. The doctor has beautiful, if slightly outdated, pronunciation.

The doctor’s smile turns uncertain. She gets the feeling there’s something he doesn’t want to say. "Husker ikke," I don’t remember, sier han etter en litt vel lang pause.

That’s a shame. And weird.

"De hadde hellet med Dem i dag, som ikke ble truffet av den bilen." You were lucky today, not getting hit by that car. he then says, noticeably changing the subject.

"Det var ikke hell, det var Edward," It wasn’t luck, it was Edward, she replies sharply.

The doctor definitely looks uncomfortable.

She continues, "Han krysset skolegården på et blunk, og plukket opp hele bilen. Jeg så det," He crossed the schoolyard in a moment, and picked up the whole car. I saw it,

The doctor laughs. "Om han kunne det hadde nok gymkarakteren hans vært meget bedre. Nei, frøken Swan*, jeg beklager å si at det høres ut som at De er litt omtåket. Det er helt normalt ved hjernerystelse." If he could do that, his PE grade would be a lot better. No, Miss Swan, I’m sorry to say you seem confused. That’s normal with concussions.

*Addressing a young woman as “frøken” is even more outdated than using polite pronouns.

Why does Bella get the feeling he’s lying?

She’s discharged.

We’ll jump ahead to her trip to La Push - that trip uneventful, since Jacob knows she doesn’t speak English. They stick their hands in their pockets and stare at the sea.

The next day she’s shanghaied to Port Angeles, because apparently she said “Yes” at the wrong time when talking to Jessica (Turns out Jess’s name was Jessica!) and accidentally said yes to a day trip to Port Angeles.

Like in canon she wanders away from the others, and as in canon she is nearly gang raped. And again as in canon she is saved at the last moment by Edward.

He buys her dinner, and she can’t believe her own luck- and misfortune. A date with the most handsome guy on the planet (hence the luck) and she can’t say a word to him (hence the misfortune)!

He says things to her, lends her his jacket, and really this is it for Bella, she’s peaked, life can’t get better than this.

(That’s a lie, it would be better if she spoke English.)

He’s so amazing.

She’s gotten pretty good at navigating conversations with him, so she nods and aha’s her way through.

In his car on the way home the tone takes a more serious turn.

He asks her about something, and it’s a serious question, that much she’s gathered. She answers in the confirmative.

He is silent.

Did she say anything wrong?

(Edward, on his end, just asked if she knows what he is. She said yes, so calmly, not even a trace of fear in her.)

A few days later he takes her out on a walk in the woods.

He shows her a meadow in the woods, and when he steps into it he lights up in the sunlight.

Bella is in shock.

She knew there was something different about him, but- holy cow. This guy isn’t human.

Is she dating a god?

She stumbles into the clearing after him, and they spend a day together where he says things, and she can barely hear any of it (nevermind understand it) because she’s so distracted by how pretty he is.

The next day he takes her to a house in the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t want to guess that this can be where he lives. Surely gods don’t live in houses?

He shows her inside the house, and introduces her for Dr. Cullen and a lady with a name she doesn’t catch.

Bit weird that these two are acting like a couple of parents, they’re far too young and divine for that.

Edward shows her around in an old-fashioned office, and she doesn’t know what to make of i when she sees a painting of Carlisle. Edward launches into a long story when he sees her watching it, unfortunately she doesn’t catch any dates or artist names. At one point she heard the word “suicide”, though, and that’s not good.

She doesn’t get much out of the story.

The baseball game doesn’t happen because Bella didn’t pick up on what Edward wanted and didn’t realize she was being invited to a thing. They spend the afternoon watching a movie instead.

The relationship continues, impeded slightly by communication problems, but she’s mostly able to cover those up.

Until her birthday comes around.

She gets a papercut.

Jasper lunges at her. Edward throws her into a glass table, and then everyone is leaving.

Carlisle is kind enough to switch to Norwegian when he’s stitching up her arm, perhaps remembering the last time she was his patient. "Jasper har ikke vært på dietten vår så veldig lenge." Jasper hasn’t been on our diet for very long.

"Diett?"she asks. She’s never seen Edward eat anything. She wasn’t clear on what the Cullens ate, honestly she thought they were above such things. She was thinking maybe photosynthesis. The knowledge that they apparently eat food astounds her, but diets?

"Dyreblod istedenfor menneskeblod," Animal blood in stead of human blood, Carlisle clarifies.

Whachasay?

Carlisle gives a slight smile. “Jaspers liv som vampyr fikk en brutal start." Jasper’s life as a vampire got off to a brutal start.

...

Vampire?!

Bella’s missed something here.

Oh dear lord, oh fy faen, she has missed something.

“Åja”, uh huh, is all she can say, and suddenly she’s very aware of the fact that she’s sitting there with a bleeding arm.

And Carlisle.

Who is a vampire.

Over the course of the following conversation Bella makes a host of discoveries.

Edward has been a vampire this whole time, and he’s a telepathic vampire. Whether Bella should be a vampire too or not has been a matter of hot debate, but due to religious reasons Edward doesn’t want that.

Carlisle also brings up how Edward died of the Spanish flu.

"Jeg var under den oppfatning at Edward fortalte deg bakhistorien min?" I was under the impression Edward told you my back story? Carlisle asks at one point, and Bella just has to ask very nicely if he’d be so kind as to repeat it.

Turns out the guy is nearly four hundred years old.

Jaha.

Jahahaha jaa ha.

That’s… a lot.

She wanders out of the house in shock, and hardly notices Edward’s strange behavior over the next couple of days.

One day he picks her up at school, and takes her behind the house.

That works out.

He’s a vampire, but he never hurt her. He is endlessly beautiful, perhaps easier to love now that she knows he’s not a god. He’s her Edward, and that’s suddenly easier now that she knows.

They can still be together.

But now that she knows this about him, it’s about time he knows something about her as well.

It’s time to finally be honest with him.

So when he opens his mouth, she opens her mouth as well, but she doesn’t get any further than to “Edward-” before he launches into a monologue.

She’ll have to wait until he’s done before saying her piece. It’s a bit embarrassing, but it doesn’t seem like he intends to stop talking anyway.

And what he’s saying seems to be serious, so it’s probably best to let him finish.

Edward concludes his monologue by kissing her forehead. Then he disappears.

Where did he go?

A big unsure, Bella goes back to the house. She’ll just have to wait until he gets back.

She doesn’t know what to think when Charlie returns from work and tells her the Cullens have all left.

Oh, god.

Edward must have found out she doesn’t speak English.

She made a mockery of him.

He has every right to leave.

Knowing this doesn’t make it any easier to live with.

Bella sinks into a depression.

The hallucinations begin, as in canon, though Hallusinward speaks Norwegian. Thank god for small mercies.

The friendship with Jacob (dictionary in hand) blooms, as someone has to help her see those hallucinations.

The cliff diving happens, and Alice shows up. Bella’s not sure what this is about, but she has gotten good enough at English to know that something bad happened, and Alice wants them to do something.

She’s a bit surprised to find herself on a plane to Italy, though.

Alice tells her to “Run to Edward” and ok, she got that, actually.

So she saves Edward.

After that she’s taken into the sewer, which turns out to house dozens of vampires.

Bella, Edward, and Alice are received in some kind of hall, where an unusual vampire has quite a bit to say. She understands some of what he’s saying, at least the part about “la tua cantante”. She knows a bit about Italian, see, so she knows that he’s talking about a song now.

She wishes she knew the context.

At one point he takes her hand, and appears fascinated by it. She wonders if he’s a palmreader. Not very vampirey, but what does she know.

He asks her a question.

"Yes," she says.

Saying yes has gotten her this far, after all.

But when he lights up and claps his hands together, and Edward and Alice stare at her in shock and betrayal, she knows she must have said the wrong thing.

The two are dismissed from the room before Bella can do or say anything, she’s just listening to Edward make a racket outside in the hallway.

Not good.

The unusual vampire brings her further down in his sewer palace to a basement, and she is given comfortable clothes to wear.

This is getting terrifying.

The vampire leans towards her - and she chickens out.

"Jeg snakker ikke engelsk!" she squeaks. "Non habla ingles!" I don’t speak English.

Han stanser, og ser forvirret ut. "Que- Hva behager*?" I beg your pardon? spør han etter et øyeblikk.

*A very formal, and slightly outdated (you can use it, but people will think you’re putting on airs. And they will be right) way of saying “excuse me?”

Sobbing, Bella tells him the whole story, from how she didn’t want to be the weird kid in school to how she’s now somehow in Italy without knowing why nor what she just agreed to.

When she’s done the vampire starts laughing.

"Dette forklarer jo en hel del," This explains quite a bit, ler han. "Men, kjære Bella, jeg er redd det ikke endrer noe." But, my dear Bella, I’m afraid it changes nothing.

He tells her that she has agreed to serve him and his army of undead warriors into eternity.

Well fuck.

"Du skal få slippe det, når du ikke visste hva du samtykket til - men skjebnen din forblir den samme. Loven er loven." You’re released from that promise, as you didn’t know what you agreed to - but your fate remains the same. The law is the law.

After a moment of silence, during which she looks terrified, he hurries to add, "Vi har en lov. Du må bli en av oss." We have a law. You must become one of us.

A law that Bella Swan has to become a vampire?

People are finally speaking Norwegian, and Bella is still lost. And it’s too embarrassing to keep pestering this poor, polite man with questions.

So she nods.

He gives her a glittering smile, and bites her.

When she wakes, Aro offers her an English course. A language course that, naturally, leads to her staying in Volterra. Why not learn a few more languages while we’re at it, dearest Bella?

Some time later Edward breaks into Volterra to save his Rapunzel, only to barely recognize her now that she’s a vampire who says things. Lots of things, she talks all the time now. WHAT DID ARO DO TO HER.

Too mortified to admit that she never spoke English, Bella claims she’s been brainwashed.

Aro is having too much fun to correct her, and the whole sad affair sets off a regrettable flood of rumors.

#troquantary #norwegian things #bella swan #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #evighetens kyss #evighetens kyss meta #evighetens kyss renessanse

[iiotic]

｡‧High School Sweethearts༻༉

Human! Alastor x Fem! Reader

༉‧.tw - Toxic relationship, cheating (not alastor nor reader), swearing, manipulation, mentions of death and murder, slight nsfw?? Please inform me if you'll find more.

༉‧.words - 2.6k

༉‧.a/n - this is a rewrite, you can find my old version - > here.

The first version was discontinued and I had this brilliant idea to rewrite it. I had fun writing it. <3 I'm sorry if there's any mistakes English is not my first language.

"Can we just be honest?"

"These are the requirements."

"If you think you can be my one and only true love."

You've been in many relationships before. Not even a single one worked, you were devastated, so you decided to give yourself a break from everything. You thought that you needed to focus on yourself more and many agreed with your decision.

However the fact that guys were practically drooling over you at school, wasn't helping. They truly just went for looks, they'd leave you after becoming more popular and having his way with you.

You were so sick of that. Can't you just have a healthy relationship? Whatever, you didn't care anymore.

"You must promise to love me."

"And damn it, if you fuck me over."

"I will rip your fuckin' face apart."

Numerous rumours were spreading, fast. You had absolutely no idea why. You didn't do anything stupid nor risky this time.

It started with harmless jokes about you being in love with the new guy, Richard. He quickly became popular as girls thought that he was very handsome and they weren't wrong. He was quite charming.

The rumour quickly stopped when Richard started courting one of the girls in your class, Dorothy. Girls were fuming with anger at the sight of him and her acting all "lovey dovey" as people called it. You were relieved, Dorothy was such a sweet girl.

However then their relationship crashed. One rumour said that Dorothy dumped Richard for being "Selfish" and for having "a big ego" then another rumour said that Richard dumped Dorothy for having a poor family. Their relationship went on and off again. You didn't really care as long as it didn't applied to you.

"Step one."

"You must accept that i'm a little of my mind."

Then fate decided to punch you right in the face or rather Richard with his boldness. You were just walking to your next class with your small group of friends and then he approached you. As the conversation quickly tuned down he started his little speech.

-" Doll, I have decided to give you this honour, of going to the prom with me." - Richard declared taking one of your hands, looking definitely not at your eyes. -" So, you're welcome."

You looked at him with disgust, what makes him think that you'd ever want to go with him? What makes him think that you will ever go to the prom? You weren't going to. Snapping back to the reality, you quickly snatched your hand away from his grip.

-" The audacity to even ask me that."- You said, looking at your friends. Some of them were already giggling and some of them stared at you with confusion. -" The answer is no."

He chuckled nervously as you continued. -"I thought that was obvious? Why would i ever accept your "invitation"? Besides Dorothy would be truly heartbroken to hear that you don't want to go to the prom with her. I heard her talking about a new dress she just bought and I bet she will look stunning. So why won't you ask her out? Shoo.. Before I will tell the whole school about this conversation.

He was just standing there, truly shocked, mouth open, no words left. Richard snapped back to reality after hearing your friends laugh at him and his stupidity or maybe his state?? You didn't care you just wanted to go to class without any disturbance.

"Step two."

"This is a waste if you can't walk me down the finish line."

As days passed by, more and more people asked you out. You always politely declined. You didn't even know most of the people who asked you out, never saw them in your entire life.

Besides its not like you were going to prom anyways and even if you wanted to, you'd like to go with someone who is important to you. Someone who'd care about you, someone who wouldn't use you for looks or popularity.

"Step three."

"Give me passion, don't make fun of my fashion."

However at the time, you didn't realized that there was a boy, your age, watching and admiring you from afar. He like many other boys thought that you were quite attractive, but he knew that he was out of your league.

You didn't even know he existed besides he heard that your "requirements" were almost impossible to fulfil. Rumours said that your standards are very high, and that's because you aren't in a relationship.

Alastor didn't know much about you. All he knew that you live close to eachothers and that you have a good sense in fashion. Well not many knew that because the school required school uniforms.

He always wanted to start talking to you, but never actually did. What would you say? You'd probably just laugh at him like at that kid on the hallway. So Alastor decided to try something different..

"Step four."

"Give me more, give me more, more.."

Some days ago you found an anonymous letter in your locker with a single rose attached to it. You were not really surprised by the rose itself however it made you smile and you appreciated the small gift. You were shocked upon seeing a letter so well-written, it made you blush slightly as you read word by word what someone wrote about you.

Saying how someone adores everything you do and they even complimented your handwriting which, you thought, wasn't very attractive.

After seven days you sound a little key chain, a letter and once again a rose attached to it. The letter was still as good as the first one, it made you smile. From now on every Thursday you found a letter with an rose attached and sometimes a little gift with it. You've got a secret admirer.

"If you can't handle a heart like mine."

"Don't waste your time with me."

"If you're not down to bleed, no, oh."

Your secret admirer never failed to make you smile, after a month you grew more and more desperate to know his identity. You'd watch your locker all the time to see if someone is putting something in, eyeing every single kid that walked by.

On another Thursday you pulled out a letter and a rose attached to it, as always. You really wanted to make a whole bouquet with it, you always carefully put them in a vase when you came back.

On that day a guy saw you pulling it out, thinking that it would be a perfect idea to make you think that he wrote all the letters and carefully trimmed all the tosses you received from an anonymous person.

Little naive you believed him and soon you both started dating. You really thought that he would be a little more romantic and charming in person but who could complain? You were happy that someone actually loved you and cared about you just as much as you cared for them.

However you grew a little suspicious why the love letters didn't stop.

Soon the day of the prom came and you agreed to go with your partner. You were getting ready for hours to make sure you'd look good for him! You really hoped he'd like it.

He picked you up at 7 just like he said he will. It was quite the quiet walk, nobody dared to speak for some reason, it was almost uncomfortable. When you arrived he suddenly vanished. You spend all the time getting ready just for him to walk away like that? really ungentlemanly behaviour.

You really didn't have much time to think about it, as your friends dragged you to the dance floor, you were dancing your heart out. However then the slow dance started, you quickly had to scramble off the dance floor as you didn't really want to interrupt other couples. Besides you really wanted to find your boyfriend to dance with him.

And then, once again, you felt like you just got slapped across the face, your own boyfriend dancing with someone else. It really would be fine if they weren't so close to eachother, eyes closed and lips almost touching. You just wanted to dissaper.

Heartbroken you ran out of the building, to get some fresh air. Tears streaming down your face as you thought about all the memories you shared with him. Everything was a lie. You sat on the edge of a fontann, your makeup completely ruined and your hair a mess.

"How could he do this to me?" You wondered, kicking your heels off.

After a minute or two, you heard footsteps approaching. You didnt bother looking up at this someone, since you weren't in an amazing state right now. The footsteps stopped and the wind alarmed you that someone sat beside you.

-"Are you alright?" You heard a masculine voice ask, empathy radiating from his tone.

-"Do I look alright to you?" You murmured, not wanting to look up at him nor wanting to talk about anything that happened.

-"My apologies, dumb question." After few minutes of sitting there in silence you finally decided to look at the anonymous someone who sat beside you.

Your eyes were met with a boy, your age. Brown-ish hair, caramel skin and mesmerising chocolatey eyes that were looking directly at you. He was wearing a black suit with red accents. his lips were formed in a small smile.

-" This might seem rude, but i saw everything what happened, and I think that guy was just a waste of your time. A pretty lady like you deserves so much better." He stated, trying to make you feel better. As much as you wouldn't like to agree with some random dude you never saw before, you have to admit he was right.

This was just a waste of time.

"If you can't handle."

"The loving, the smothering."

"Til you can't handle it no more, no more."

"Go home."

You soon learned that the boys name was Alastor and you had to admit that he was such a gentleman. He was always so polite, always opening doors for you, pulling the chairs, helping you with anything you'd ask. He was quite the charmer.

You two quickly developed a good friendship and Alastor even introduced you to his mom! She was such a sweet woman, she raised her son perfectly.

When you first met her you were nervous, very nervous for some reasons, but you relaxed seeing that she accepted you and even made you her famous jambalaya. It was delicious.

"Can we just be honest?"

"These are the requirements."

"If you think you can be my one and only true love."

You were bored, extremely bored, so you decided to write out all of your "requirements". You always heard that you had high standards, but you highly doubt thats true. You just wanted to be loved and accepted the way you are.

You sat on your bed, shuffling through your drawers to find an empty notebook. After some minutes of searching you found it! noting that you have to clean your room soon.

You grabbed a black pen and began writing..

"You must promise to love me."

"And damn it, if you fuck me."

"Over, I will rip your fuckin' face apart."

Your notebook soon turned into a diary. Besides the requirements, you began writing your secrets, likes and dislikes, how's your day been as well as your little crush that you slowly started developing on your friend, Alastor.

You weren't sure that your feelings were reciprocated. Hell, you even began wondering if he thinks that you're his friend. However you had an other mission, finally finding out who your secret admirer is.

"High school sweethearts, line up."

"They're trying to waste my time."

"High school sweethearts, shut up."

"If you're not my type."

It was extremely hard to find out who it is, 'couse you weren't going to school anymore. The letters with a rose attached to it started appearing at your doorstep. "So this certain someone knows where i live.."

You decided to tell Alastor about you secret admirer, thinking that maybe he'd help you find them. He agreed, holding in a laugh at your stubbornness.

You were gathering clues all day but then it was time for Alastor to go back, take care of his loving mother. Before sleep you decided to grab the pen and write something in your diary..

"Step five."

"You can't be scared to show me off and hold my hand."

"Step six."

"If you can't put in work, then I don't know what you think this fucking is."

"Step seven."

"This one goes to eleven."

"If you cheat you will die, die."

As for the guy you went to prom with? You didn't know where he went. He just suddenly dissapered, vanished. Pheraps he moved houses? Maybe he had an accident?

Whatever happened to him, you were glad that he was nowhere to be found. You just couldn't bare to look at his disgusting face, again.

However you discovered something more surprising. You caught Alastor, sneaking in on your parents property and leaving the letter with a rose that knew oh so well.. By now you have a whole bouquet, just like you wanted.

You just wished that he wasn't joking about all the compliments he gave you. That he was just lying, making fun of you. You really wanted for him to be genuine about them, about all the things he wrote.

You decided to keep it a secret, waiting for the proper time to say that you discovered his secret or pheraps when he'll tell you it himself? By now your crush on Alastor has grown so much that you couldn't even look him in the eyes. Always blushing slightly when he's around. You've fallen for his charm.

You had all these fantasies and cravings when it came to him. If you didn't do anything about it you would just burst, so you decided to vent to your best friend.. You diary.

"Could you hold me through the night?"

"Put your lips all over my mine."

"Salty face when I start cryin'."

"Could you be my first time?"

"Eat me up like apple pie."

"Make me not wanna die."

"Love me rough and let me fly."

"Get me up, yeah, get me high."

"Tie me down, don't leave my side."

"Don't be a waste of my time."

Alastor really didn't mean to read it! You just left it open on your desk and curiosity got ahead of him. He really didn't mean to read you fantasies nor your secrets. What kind of gentleman was he?

Then the guilt hit him in the face, he really shouldn't be reading your private notebook. He should respect it, he should respect your privacy.

Alastor closed your diary, in a hurry, when he heard your footsteps getting closer. Quickly sitting on your bed, pretending to be interested with your room decor.

He saw the way you hide the notebook as soon as you saw it laying on your desk. After he asked you what it was you brushed it off quickly. He decided to keep it a secret, waiting for the right moment to confront you. However he was glad that his feelings were reciprocated..

PART 1 | PART 2 "Your good friend."

#Spotify #alastor x reader #human! alastor x reader #human alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #spotify #alastor x you #human alastor #Oneshot #Alastor oneshot

[iliveiloveiwrite]

I wonder what it’s like to be loved by you // Benedict Bridgerton

Summary: You’ve loved him for as long as you can remember. Is this the season where he finally realises?

A/N: I LOVE BENEDICT. I love him so much. What do I have to do to get a Benedict? Title is from Shawn Mendes - Wonder. I had so much fun writing this fic, I can’t wait to write more for the Bridgerton fandom! I truly hope you all like it, let me know what you think please?

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of food and drink, fluff, pining, mutual pining, dancing, balls, obliviousness, friends to lovers, she/her pronouns, a lot of history - I am a historian after all and this is the regency era.

Word count: 4.8k

Lady Danbury never spared any expense on the balls she held every season. She knew full well that many a match could be made that night so there was not only pressure from the ton, but also a responsibility that this ball must outdo all others thrown before – by herself and other matriarchs in society.

A feat she always managed to achieve, the elder thinks to herself as she watches your eyes widen upon entering the ornately decorated room. Looking you up and down, she approves of your outfit – a dark blue dress punctuated with silver jewellery, hair twisted into an updo with only a few strands hanging loose to frame your face. From her spot across the ballroom, Lady Danbury wonders how you hadn’t married yet.

As the band strikes up, Lady Danbury walks into the fray, greeting her guests with a smile. All the while, she keeps a trained eye on you, wondering who on earth had captured your heart but had not noticed.

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

No matter how hard he tried, the charcoal would not wash from his fingers. Having scrubbed and scrubbed at his hands, Benedict could only offer you a smile of apology as you not only noted his lateness but the state of his hands.

“It’s very fortunate that you are a talented artist,” You comment with a teasing smile.

Benedict reaches for your hand, dropping a kiss to the back of it before answering. “I class myself as very fortunate to have a friend like you who understands how easy it is to get lost in a sketch or a painting.”

You roll your eyes, careful not to let anyone else but Benedict see your act of impropriety. He smirks, unable to help himself.

“You’re a shameful flatterer, Benedict.”

“Some might even call me a ‘rake’,” He replies, his tone teasing.

“I shall save that for when you’ve really annoyed me.”

He laughs; a loud chuckle that draws the attention of those closest to you. Most notably, Benedict’s mother, Violet Bridgerton and Lady Danbury.

Benedict clears his throat; cheeks flushed not only from the attention but from the knowledge that his mother would soon be making her way over to him. He adored his mother; was grateful for her every day, but he could happily admit he could live without the meddling in his love life. He grabs your gloved hand once more; kissing the back of it in parting before asking, “Save me a dance on your card?”

“Always,” You answer, watching his back as he stalks away. Benedict narrowly avoids being collared by his mother, an act to which you find yourself smiling at.

With thoughts of Benedict in mind, you wander around the outskirts of the ballroom, your dark blue skirts swishing pleasantly under foot. You pause only to grab a lemonade from the table, sipping happily at the cold drink.

You catch sight of the brunette that had stolen your heart dancing with Penelope Featherington and though you know there is no romance there, your heart is unable to stop the hurt that lashes through it. Schooling your face into a mask of polite delight, you force yourself to turn away from the sight of the man you had so readily given your heart to dancing with someone else.

“How long have you been in love with my brother?” A raspy voice asks from behind you.

Your lemonade splashes slightly as you turn to face your interrogator. “Eloise!” You laugh, smiling too wide to be comfortable, “Whatever do you mean?”

Eloise’s shrewd blue eyes narrow slightly as she takes in your dismissal. She waves her hand in the general direction of Benedict though you knew exactly where he was – could feel his location thrumming in your veins.

“Don’t play coy, (Y/N). It doesn’t become you. Now, how long have you been in love with Benedict?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? How long had you loved Benedict? Thinking back on it, you’re sure that you’ve always loved him. Your family had been good friends with the Bridgerton family for as long as you could remember. Your mother was always having tea with Violet and you were always thrust upon the eight siblings without much worry. Your friendship with Benedict had started in earnest when you had complimented his art skills, bringing up how you liked to draw too. From there, a close friendship was forged.

By your twentieth year on this earth, you realised that your feelings for the second Bridgerton were no longer platonic… that you craved something more. Falling for Benedict Bridgerton felt inevitable almost; that your heart was destined to be his whether he knew it or not.

Sighing heavily, you see no point in lying to the second eldest Bridgerton girl. “For as long as I can remember,” You admit, rushing to add on, “But he doesn’t know so please don’t tell him!”

Eloise’s eyes widen at your confession, not only shocked that you readily admitted your feelings for her elder brother, but for how long you have harboured them. “Is that why you have not yet married?” She demands, “Because you loved him?”

Biting your lip, you nod. “It wouldn’t be fair to my husband. Their wife in love with another man – it doesn’t exactly set stable foundations for a long, prosperous marriage and…”

“And…” Eloise prompts, her innate curiosity getting the better of her. If her mother could hear her now, she would surely receive a scolding.

You ball your hands into fists before letting them drop to your sides; letting them hang there like the constant hope you have for Benedict.

“And I still hope he’ll notice I’m here. That I have been here all along,” You voice cracks on the admission causing a pang of upset to flash through Eloise. She’d reach out to comfort you, but it would only draw attention from the many mothers circling and no doubt, Lady Whistledown.

“(Y/N)…” Eloise begins but you hold a single hand up to stop her before she starts. With a strained smile, you reassure her. “It’s fine, Eloise. I accept it with every season that passes that it is unlikely he shall ever return my feelings.”

“Then he is a fool,” Eloise states plaining, sending a glare in the direction of her beloved brother. She had no qualms admitting that Benedict was indeed her favourite sibling, but he had his moments where he vexed her beyond belief.

“Who is a fool?” A voice questions to the right of you. Benedict.

Freezing in place, you cast a helpless look at Eloise, begging her silently to take control of this situation. Eloise smiles and nods imperceptibly. She turns towards her brother, hooking her arm through yours as she declares, “The men that have not offered their hand to (Y/N) yet. They’re all fools, aren’t they dear brother.”

Benedict casts his gaze towards you; his eyes scanning your face for what, he does not know. “Fools,” He agrees quietly though he is heard perfectly over the music. “Would you care to dance?” He asks, wanting you to himself for a little while. As much as he loved his younger sister, she was a keen observer, and he wasn’t ready for her to figure out his feelings just yet. Not when he hadn’t admitted them to you.

Nodding your head, you take his outstretched hand, bidding goodbye to Eloise for now. The brunette shakes her head as the both of you walk away. Oblivious, she thinks to herself, completely oblivious.

As the music strikes up once more, it becomes obvious that the next dance is a waltz, requiring the closeness of your partner. It was only years ago that this dance had scandalised the ton for its closeness – now, it was required at every ball, many married couples savouring the intimacy.

Benedict’s hand settles on the small of your back as his other grips your hand. Your hand rests comfortably on his shoulder as he begins to lead you through the steps you have known since your youth.

Music around you fades as do the other couples. The only two people in the room are Benedict and yourself. The feel of his hand on your back and the look in his eyes; it’s enough to have you accept your fate then and there. It’s enough for you to admit that you have been ruined for any and all men; finding yourself in love with the man who holds you so tenderly and has always held you in high regard. Is this it? You ask yourself, is this what it feels like to be loved by him? To feel like the only one in the world. If it is, you’ll take it with open hands.

Your eyes do not leave his as Benedict leads you through the rises and falls of the dance. His hand remains a steady presence on your lower back; the feeling just enough to distract you from the crowd now watching you and instead, leading you to wonder what his hands would feel like elsewhere on your body.

As the music falls into another song; this one more upbeat, Benedict drops his hands, letting you free. He hadn’t wanted to; had wanted to pull you from the ballroom, to confess the feelings that have haunted him for years and to ask you to be his for better or for worse.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he bows and smiles, reaches for your hand to kiss it and then lets himself breathe as he turns and walks away.

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

Dear Reader,

Though there is much to report from Lady Danbury’s ball last night – the fashion, the food, the décor – This Author wants to focus on one moment in particular.

Now, Dear Reader, whilst you may wonder the importance of such a moment, remember that it is one’s job to observe all. That is why I want to bring attention to Mr. Benedict Bridgerton who found himself extremely popular last night, dancing with many eligible women and delighting them with his talents.

However, Dear Reader, this is not the moment I want to focus on.

No. Instead, I want to bring attention to the heart most likely suffering in silence as Mr. Bridgerton continues to charm the ton.

As you all know, I am not one to beat around the proverbial bush and hide identities, but for the sake of the woman who has found herself in love with the second eldest Bridgerton for as long she can remember, I shall endeavour to keep her name a secret.

Know, however, that This Author’s sympathies lie with you.

To love another unrequitedly is a dear shame.

----------

The gossip sheet is scrunched to a ball in your hands. It’s all you can do to keep the tears from falling down your face. As if you didn’t know your love was unrequited; as if you didn’t know you had all but doomed yourself to being a spinster as you wait for a man who did not know you loved him.

Lady Whistledown knew your secret, and your identity. As a result, the whole ton knew your secret but whatever morals the author possesses, she had not revealed your identity.

Summoning the carriage, you ask to be taken to Bridgerton House where you can speak to Eloise in confidence and ask for her advice on what she might do. Deep down, you had to know whether Benedict had read the paper too.

It doesn’t take long for Eloise to find you in the tea room; a cup of tea in your hands but readily ignored as you chew on the inside of your cheek. Her brown hair tied up in her usual bun, her eyes hold the pity you didn’t want to see or hear as of this moment.

“I didn’t know she was listening, I swear,” Eloise promises, sitting by your side and reaching for your hand.

“I know,” You comfort, “You would never tell a soul.”

“At least she didn’t reveal your identity,” Eloise chirps, trying to find a silver lining.

“Yet she has revealed my secret to the entirety of London society,” You sigh. Removing your hand from Eloise’s, you press your palm to your forehead, feeling overwhelmingly tired and desperate for the day to be over already. “Does he know?”

Eloise chews on her bottom lip, deciding whether to answer you. “He has read it,” She admits,  but rushes to add, “He doesn’t know it’s you! He doesn’t have a clue really. He’s angrier at himself for not noticing anything was amiss.”

“I don’t know what to do,” You whisper, feeling helpless.

“For now,” Eloise states, “We do nothing.”

---------

Your heels sink into the soft carpet as you wander down the stairs, pausing only to check you have everything. Your mind remains elsewhere as you check your bag out of habit, the conversation with Eloise, the latest gossip sheet, your feelings for Benedict. They circle around your mind, leaving you dizzy in their wake as you try to make sense of them all, try to find your next step in and amongst the mess.

“(Y/N),” Benedict greets, hurrying down the final few stairs, pleasantly surprised, “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were visiting.”

“I came to drop in on Eloise. I wanted to thank her for last night; she was an ear when I needed someone to listen.”

“Is it anything I can help with?” He asks, voice taking on a concerned note as he reaches out for you.

You shake your head, squeezing his hand in return. “For now, everything is okay.”

Benedict clears his throat. “I’m glad to hear it, but please come to me next time. I want to help if I can.”

“I will,” You promise, your eyes now scanning over his fine clothes. “Where are you off to?”

“An art exhibition at Somerset House. They’re showing some Holbein’s from the Royal collection.”

“Holbein’s?” You ask, shocked at the name falling from Benedict’s mouth.

He nods, just as excited. It was a rare thing indeed to have Holbein’s on display; they were usually kept in whatever royal residence they found themselves in; hidden away from the public eye. Art was the very foundation of your friendship; having seen so many of his sketches as a young boy and watching them develop into surer lines and confident strokes. Benedict was an exceptionally talented artist – something he would say about yourself. Benedict was the only person to see such work; the watercolours in your sketchpad leaving him breathless as you bring life to the inanimate.

“Would you like to join me?” He asks before he can talk himself out of it. He had barely seen you all season; you had closed in yourself, as if accepting a fate that you did not want. Benedict would do what he could to ensure your happiness for a little bit longer.

“Unchaperoned?”

A faint blush rises on Benedict’s cheeks as he realises what he has asked of you. “I shall ask Eloise to accompany us,” He suggests, turning to face the direction in which you had just come, “Did she mention any plans to you?”

You shake your head to which Benedict leases a sigh of relief. “I’ll go ask her now. I’m sure she won’t mind… much.”

Laughing quietly, you wait patiently in the entryway of Bridgerton House. The house in London so often felt like a second home to you; spending so much of childhood summers here when your mother would take tea with the Bridgerton matriarch. As you grew into your teens, you would begin to visit the house with just your maid, calling on the family for social niceties. The friendship with Benedict and Eloise only solidified your standing in the close family unit.

Eloise’s voice brings you back to the present. She walks down the stairs, accompanied by her brother. Taking one look at you, waiting patiently for the both of them, Eloise gets a mischievous look in her eye. It isn’t a look that leaves you in comfort, but rather leaves you wondering just what she has planned for the art exhibition.  

“Eloise has so graciously accepted to join us,” Benedict announces, sounding rather pleased with himself.

Eloise smiles: a smile that sets Benedict’s nerves on edge. He would owe her for this, that much he knew. “I would be more than happy to accompany you, brother.”

Benedict resists the urge to groan; he’s in deep shit for this.

“Thank you, Eloise,” You murmur with a smile. Something in Eloise softens at your tone as if she would be unable to deny you this time with Benedict when it was their mother’s mission to see him married off this very season.

“Of course,” Eloise allows, glancing between you and Benedict – noting the longing in both sets of eyes. She shakes her head, gesturing to the door and where the carriages waits just beyond it. “Shall we?”

--------

“He wasn’t a handsome monarch, was he?” Eloise murmurs quietly, staring up at the grand portrait of the fearsome king who preferred executing his wives rather than loving them.

The walls of Somerset House have become dedicated to the eyes of the past. Past monarchs and relatives decorate the walls; their eyes following each attendant, as if curious to see how society is progressing less than three hundred years after the death of the artist.

Benedict chuckles; the very sound raising goosebumps across your skin. You barely repress the shiver the sound elicits. Trying your best to listen as the siblings argue about the reign of this particular monarch – the pros and the cons to what he did for the very country he ruled over for decades.

“Oh!” Eloise gasps, interrupting the argument and loosening her grip on your arm, she waves frantically at Penelope Featherington. “Would you mind terribly if I go say hello?”

“Not at all,” You laugh.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay with Benedict?”

The man in question scoffs, rolling his eyes at his little sister. “Off with you,” He dismisses, “I’ll escort (Y/N) – someone who actually appreciates the art.”

Eloise laughs as she turns away, but you do not miss the wink she sends in your direction. It hits you all at once; her mischievous look before you all left the house. She had concocted this plan in her head; accepting to accompany you as a rouse to get you and Benedict alone.

You didn’t know whether to appreciate her genius or hide her favourite book.

Jumping at the sound of someone clearing their throat, you focus your attention on Benedict. He watches you with an amused look, and it’s then that you realise that he has stood beside you waiting with his arm out for a minute or so whilst you glared after his younger sister. Taking his arm, you rid yourself of any thoughts of violence against Eloise. Instead, focusing on the man beside you.

“How are you?” You ask, hand resting gently on Benedict’s forearm.

“Do you mean in general or after today’s publication?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“In general, I am quite well. I have a wonderful lady on my arm, and I am in the presence of excellent art work. However, after today’s publication, I must admit I am rather angry.”

“Oh?” You sound, trying hard not to let his words affect you so much but they rattle around your mind on repeat, committing themselves where they will last for an eternity.

“I’ve never been the focus of the gossip paper and now after one ball, I am. I don’t think I like the attention.”

“I don’t believe that for one second, Benedict Bridgerton.”

He pauses, smiling widely down at you. His eyes light up with the smile and your heart begins to pound at the sight of it. “Alright, I do like the attention,” He concedes, “But what I don’t like are the looks I’m getting from all mothers.”

“Why?”

“They all look like I’m about to break their daughter’s heart.”

“I’m sure you’re just imagining things,” You reassure, tightening your grip on his arm.

“I don’t think I am,” He states, nodding politely at Lady Whitelaw who in turn glares at the younger man. He turns his gaze to you as if to say, see?

You turn your face away from him, trying your best to hide the smile and laugh that threatens to break free. “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” Benedict guesses, a smile in his own voice.

“I’m not,” You promise, schooling your face into a mask of indifference, focusing on the closest sketch to you. A graphite sketch of Anne Boleyn; marking her beauty only years before her death.

“You are,” Benedict argues, standing beside you, admiring the same sketch. Throwing him a knowing smile, you turn your attentions to rest of the exhibition, unable to hide your awe at just what is being shown to the public.

The art is incredible; your watercolours barely compare to what is being shown in Somerset House. He would disagree in a heartbeat, but Benedict could come close to producing something of this calibre. He had shown his portraits of his mother and brothers; Anthony making the perfect candidate for a painting.

You come to a natural stop in front of a portrait of a young women. A young queen, in fact. This particular queen had never got to reign in the manner that she was capable, dying after giving birth the king’s heir. His one true love, the king had called her after he death.

“She’s beautiful,” You whisper, admiring not only the artistry but also the focus on the painting.

Benedict watches you admiring the portrait painted so carefully by Holbein. Though the portrait is indeed beautiful, Benedict finds himself agreeing that they do not hold a candle to you. As he watches you lift a single hand, trying to dampen the urge to run your fingers over the brush strokes, he thinks to himself that there would be no artist on this earth that would be so talented to capture your beauty.

His breath comes faster; his heart rate increases. He recognises the symptoms; he’s only experienced such signs before. He had been eighteen then; barely a man but man enough to accept that he had fallen in love with his best friend. Years later, here he was, experiencing such feelings once more. Once more, he wonders what it would be like to be loved by you. He cannot help but hope that the mystery woman in the society papers is you.

-------

Dear Reader,

It seems that Mr. Benedict Bridgerton reads my paper!

He was overheard at the Somerset House Holbein exhibition, complaining to Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) about my last column in which I criticised his treatment of the lady in love with him.

All I have to say on the matter is this:

Mr. Bridgerton, for every complaint you offer, you break her heart further. Stop now before you do irreparable damage.

-----

“What does she mean ‘break her heart further’? I’ve been trying to figure out who it is so I can put a stop to it!”

“It doesn’t matter whether you know who it is, Benedict,” You argue, placing your teacup on the table, “But rather the fact that you unknowingly hurt whoever it is that is in love with you.”

“Do my feelings not matter?” He demands, throwing the damned paper onto the table. Benedict runs a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration. “I’m sorry,” He apologises, “I should not have taken that tone with you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You’re forgiven,” You laugh, “I’ve heard you say a lot worse.”

He smiles though it doesn’t reach his eyes. Leaning forward on your chair, you wring your hands together, working up the nerve. “What feelings haven’t they taken into account?”

“Lady Whistledown,” He spits the name with derision, “Hasn’t taken into account that I may not have noticed someone in love with me because I am in love with someone myself.”

It’s as if the chair is pulled out from under you; your stomach dips and flips as the world crashes around you and Benedict is none the wiser. He’s none the wiser to the palpable shift that has taken place. Instead, he’s sat down across from, looking utterly defeated.

“Does she know?” You ask after a moment of silence, using the time to pull yourself back together, to compile it all and put it away for later.

Benedict shakes his head; eyes sad as he watches you. “Why haven’t you told her?” You ask, unable to stop the questions now they’re on the tip of your tongue.

“I suppose for the same reason she hasn’t told me. Fear maybe?”

“Fear of what? I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything.”

“Fear of rejection. Fear of humiliation. Fear of ruining a friendship,” He lists off, counting the reasons on his fingers, holding them up for you to see.

“Have you thought about telling her?”

“All the time,” He answers honestly, and you wonder whether the crack your heart makes was audible to the whole of the ton.

“Do you plan on telling them?”

“Eventually.”

You take a deep breath, staring at the teacup instead of him, readying yourself to offer up your broken heart. To confess that the two most recent society papers have been about you; have shown your heart to the whole of London.

“It’s me,” You confess quietly, voice no louder than a whisper but he hears you all the same.

Benedict’s head whips towards you. Had this been another situation, it would have been funny, but the look on his face… “What?” He whispers, shocked.

“It’s me,” You announce; louder this time, ready to lay your heart out on the floor for him to break entirely. “It’s me, Benedict. Lady Whistledown must have overheard Eloise and myself talking at Lady Danbury’s ball the other night. She had caught me watching you dance and asked me outright. I couldn’t deny it. I’ve been in love with you for years, Benedict. For as long as I can remember.”

“For as long as you can remember?”

You nod, wringing your hands together once more. “I didn’t realise until I turned twenty, just what my feelings meant. I think I’ve always been in love with you, Benedict.”

Benedict remains silent; eyes wide, hands slack as they rest on his thighs. He looks like he doesn't believe the very words leaving your mouth; as if he is unworthy of the love you offer him so willingly. 

“Say something, please,” You plead, “I know it isn’t proper for the woman to announce her feelings for the man, but I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. Not when it is the focus for Lady Whistledown to sell more copies of her paper.”

“I didn’t know,” He whispers after a prolonged silence.

“You weren’t to know. You don’t have to feel the same, Benedict.”

“I do as it happens.”

“What?”

“I do feel the same,” Benedict clarifies, standing from his chair, “I’ve loved you since I was eighteen.”

You sniffle slightly; emotional from hearing the words you have longed to hear for years. The words that have haunted your dreams; had you rushing from sleep, so you didn’t let yourself believe an alternate reality.

“You do?”

Benedict nods, “I do. I love you very much.”

“I love you too,” You reply, standing from your chair, reaching for him – not wanting anymore space between the two of you.

He dips his head, pausing mere millimetres away from your lips. The question burns in his eyes; desperate to know whether he can kiss you after so long waiting. Your nod is barely imperceptible but it’s nod, nonetheless.

Slowly, almost wanting to savour every moment, Benedict presses his lips to yours. Reaching up, you haul him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him pressed against you after having waited so long, after having dreamed of this moment for too long.

He tastes like tea and his hands bring to life the butterflies in your stomach as they wander the path of your back, settling on your lower back, dipping you slightly. Benedict groans softly at the feel of you lined up against him. If he had known heaven was this close, he would not have waited this long.

Benedict breaks the kiss; not out of need of air, but to stop himself from taking this too far when you feel like heaven pressed against him. You smile widely, kissing his jaw lovingly before starting to laugh lightly. Benedict’s hands on your waist tighten possessively as he joins you in laughter.

Briefly, he wonders whether this is what it feels like to be loved by you.

********

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagines

[drakenology]

Bully!Dabi laughing and making fun about a school girl big tiddies😳 it's as if the buttons on your uniform blouse are going to explode at any moment, and Dabi love make you feel bad about it

 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐈

“baby, can you meet me tonight in detention?” 

MDNI

tw: non-con (yeah ik crazy right? i’m taking that out of my rules so feel free to request now.) , bullying, third year aged, mean!dabi, creep!dabi?, boobjob, cumplay, degradation, raw sex and public sex

A/N: hi hiii, this is a lovely request that I literally started writing as soon as I got it. Thank you nonnie for sending this in and as always enjoy!

You tried to keep them hidden whenever you saw him walking through the halls with his asshole entourage. But oversized sweaters, hoodies and cardigans never did the trick. Dabi always ended up seeing them, practically bursting through your school blouse after an administrator would yell at you to get into proper uniform. He was ruthless, grabbing your shirt and popping it open by the buttons to expose your large breasts. He’d laugh at you as you go to cover yourself up with the remnants of your blouse, poking and prodding at the exposed skin of your breasts. He’d pinch your cheeks as you become flustered, smirking and leaning in close to you.

“What? They were gonna come out anyways. Stupid tits were practically opening your shirt for you. Thought I’d give ‘em a hand.” He mocked, squeezing your breasts as he pinned you to a nearby locker. You snatch away from him and run away to the bathroom to fix your blouse, tears stinging in your eyes from the embarrassment of it all. The rest of your day was full of shame as everyone stared at your ripped blouse, administration granting you detention for violating dress code for the second time today. 

At the end of the day, you stay behind in class, watching as everyone chats their way out the classroom doors to return home for the evening. All the other students who were to stay for detention come trudging inside; Dabi included to your displeasure. You shuffle in your seat out of discomfort, pulling your sweater down further and holding it in between stern fists as if it were to fly up at any second to reveal your breasts to the whole class. Dabi winks at you after sitting directly across from you, softly mooing at you to insinuate that you were a cow. 

“I see they made you cover up those udders, fat tits. What were you thinking walking around with your tits hanging out? This is a school you know.” He says to you at a low tone of voice, talking not allowed in detention. You try and ignore him, scribbling on your notebook as you try and concentrate on your homework. Dabi sits slouched in his seat, writing something on a piece of paper and balling it up to throw it at your head. You glare over at him, the paper ball falling onto your desk in front of you. You open it and see that it’s a note. 

“Meet me on the roof, fat tits.” it read, hand-writing just as childish as he is. You roll your eyes and crumple up the note, standing to go to throw it in the trash. Dabi smirks, sitting up in his seat to raise his hand. 

“Yo, teach. I gotta piss. Can I use the bathroom?” He asks, chuckling to himself when the administrator grants him another two weeks detention for his foul language. 

“Ask correctly or ‘piss’ on yourself, Mr. Todoroki.” He spits, returning to his book. Dabi sighs, rolling his eyes before caving in. 

“Fine. May I please use the restroom, sir?” He asks once more, sarcasm dripping from his tone. He stands once he has permission, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

“I’ll be waiting, utters." He taunts, poking your chest before walking out of the room. You sit for a while, stirring in confusion. Do you go outside to see what he wants or do you stay seated and let him wait for nothing. You sigh and raise your hand, politely asking to use the restroom too. The administrator, uninterested at this point waves you away and returns to his book. You shuffle out of the room and walk upstairs to the roof of the school where Dabi stood by the metal fences barricading the ledge.

"Ah. So nice of you to meet with me, fat tits." Dabi smirks, pulling you up to him by the arm. You groan, shuddering at his touch in disgust.

"What do you want, Touya?" You ask, folding your arms over your chest unconsciously; a defense mechanism you've picked up dealing with him over the years.

"Haven't you heard the saying? A guy who picks on you also has a crush on you." Dabi hints, pulling your arms away from your chest, lifting your sweater up to expose your pretty bra. You shriek, trying to cover yourself up again only for your hands to be pinned above your head against the wall. 

“So your excuse for treating me like shit is because you’ve got some sick crush on me?” You spat, yet unable to be completely furious as his lips meet yours in a hot and sticky kiss you can’t seem to shake. His tongue slips into your mouth to travel around inside, pulling away with a single string of spit as you pant. You hated him but, fuck, why did he have to be such a good kisser?

“You’ve always been my favorite little toy. Wanna know why?” He asks, leaning in to kiss and lick the skin of your neck. You stifle a moan, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’s turning you on. 

“Why?” You choke, cheeks burning as his cold hands travel up the sides of your frame.

“These.” He answers, his hands pulling your breasts out of the cups of your bra, hissing at the sight of your pretty nipples. He takes one in his mouth, smirking against your skin when you start to moan helplessly. Your thighs press together as your panties start to soak with slick, Dabi noticing his effect on you quickly. 

“P-Please stop..” You whisper desperately, looking into Dabi’s crystal blue eyes with a mixture of lust and uncertainty. He grins, knowing deep down you want him too, whether you said it words or not. His hands travel up your thighs and between your legs, forcing them open to prod his fingers at the growing wet spot on your panties. 

“Heh.. I don’t think you want me to stop, do you? God, look how sloppy you are already.” He retorts, yanking your panties down and hiking up your skirt to further expose you. He reaches down to unbutton and unzip his own pants to let his length spring free, your eyes locking onto his bright red head as it leaked with pre-cum. 

“Help me out with this, will ya, doll?” He asks, hands caressing your face as you lead you onto the concrete ground. As you sat on your knees, your hands wiping away a stray tear that streams down your cheek. You pull out your breasts a bit further, taking Dabi’s cock in between them and stroking it slowly beneath your cleavage. Dabi sighs out, his head handing back as he ruts his hips upward to match your pace. 

“Fuck, just like that. If only you could see how slutty you look.” Dabi groans, voice slightly hoarse as you get him off with your breasts. You groan when you feel his cock start to throb against your skin, half of you disgusted and the rest of you turned on beyond belief as you watch him writhe in pleasure from the very breasts he teased and made fun of so harshly. 

“Fuck, stand up.” Dabi demands, practically yanking you up on your feet by your arm and pinning you against the metal fence behind you.  Not caring enough to prep you before, he pushes himself inside your weeping pussy; starting his thrusts at a brutal pace. You cry out, your moans echoing through the vast space of the empty roof of the school. Dabi’s hand comes up to cover your mouth as his hips moved faster, wet slapping causing him to groan.

“Ya like that, huh slut? Like being stuffed full at school don’t you?” Dabi asks, expecting an answer out of you after he uncovers your drooling and mewling mouth,“You’re mine. Say it. Tell me you’re mine.” 

“”M yours, Touya!” You gasp, feeling the delicious head of his cock brush against your favorite spot with reckless abandon as it blurs your reasoning. You feel your slick spill down your thighs as he ruts into you from behind, his balls slapping up against your swollen clit only adding to the sinful pleasure you were feeling. You almost can’t believe you’re being fucked by your bully on the roof as your hands cling to the metal barb-wired fence you were pinned against, feeling Dabi’s hands reach up and grab your breasts from behind to pull you back onto his cock with fervor. Animalistic growls leave his lips as he pinches and teases your nipples, huffing obscenities into your ear. 

“That’s right you fucking whore, take my cock like a good little slut.” He growls as he uses your pussy like he owns you, his cock throbbing inside you as he threatens to cum inside you, “Gonna make you mine forever, yeah? Sound good, slut?” You shake your head no, your body language telling a different tale as you feel your legs get so weak you can hardly stand on your own as Dabi holds you up by your neck. 

His hand squeezes around your throat as he cums thick inside you, your gooey cunt fluttering around his cock as you follow shortly behind him. You pant and sob as you come down from your high, Dabi continuing to use your pussy until every drop of his cum is deep inside you; even going the extra mile to scoop up whatever remnants of his cum that leaked from you with his fingers and shoving them into your mouth with a satisfied groan. 

“Now, that wasn’t so bad was it?” Dabi smirks, taking your panties from the ground and handing them to you with a smug look in his eye. You take them and slide them up over your legs and put them back on with a sniffle, ashamed of what you’ve done with him yet strangely satisfied as your cunt still clenches and throbs around nothing after the fact. Confusion stirs within your mind, your thighs trembling as you sat on the bench and watched Dabi walk down the stairs once more. 

After you wait for Dabi to walk back downstairs to the detention room, you follow behind shortly after, folding your legs as you feel Dabi’s cum start to spill out and onto your panties. He smirks over at you, leaning back into his seat as he passes another note to you. 

“Let’s do that again tomorrow, fat tits. You’re fun ;)”

#dabi smut #bnha smut #.royal requests 👑📜 #bakugo smut #bnha izuku smut #bnha todoroki smut #bnha kirishima smut #bnha shinsou

[xpeachesncream]

it takes two | one shot (myg)

summary: min yoongi was the one who came to understand you and took you for you. but, when boundaries start getting crossed and priorities begin to change, you start to question if your relationship with your bestfriend is strong enough to make it through.

pairing: athlete!reader x athlete!myg

genre: bestfriends to lovers au, basketball au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 12.3k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, protected AND unprotected sex (later on), slight breast play, oral (f. receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, missionary, riding/straddling, mentions of alcohol consumption, dancing, mention of marijuana, sex on the beach kinda?, some heavy angst, insecurities, crying, injuries (like a cut/ankle sprain), yoongi is just kind of an idiot at one point

note: heavily inspired by the movie love and basketball. unedited for the most part, pls excuse any spelling/grammar errors.

tags: @ggukkieland​ @miinoongi​ @bluesharksandfish​ @unicornbabylover​

⏏︎ now playing: triggered - jhené aiko ; sorry enough - chris brown

First Quarter: 6th Grade

You didn't really have a lot of friends in elementary school. Any, actually. Hell, the girls in your class purposely ignored you because you acted different. Dressed different. Enjoyed the shit boys liked, like playing ball and video games. You couldn't relate to their gel pens, Lisa Frank folders, cute binder stickers and bracelet charms. None of that shit was you. But you didn't care, you were fine by yourself. Nobody to please, nobody to care for.

The only person that came to understand you was Min Yoongi and that's because you played basketball with him and his friends during daycare. At first, it came as a surprise because truthfully, you felt like Yoongi only let you play because he felt bad for you. Which, okay, whatever— so be it. But, after the last round during a game of two versus two, you found yourself on the ground, huge gash on the knee from chasing after the ball before it could go out of bounds.

"Ouch! Crap!" You groaned as you sat up and checked out your knee. Yoongi walks towards you and crouches down, examining the bloody gash.

"Come on." He says, holding out a hand to help lift you up. He swings your arm over his shoulder, already knowing that any sudden movements to your knee can make the wound sting. He takes his time and walks with you as you hop on one leg towards the office, not really saying much. Yoongi wasn't the most talkative in class. He hung out with two or three other boys in your class on the daily, but they were quiet. Weren't much troublemakers, didn't cause ruckus like the other boys did. But, he was still popular among the girls because he was a little cutiepie. You remember walking into the bathroom, hearing Angie and her friends tease her about her crush on Yoongi. Then, the following week, one of her friends also ended up crushing on Yoongi and they bickered [weirdly] in the bathroom about it.

Getting to the office, he sits you down on the bench before approaching the office admin to grab some bandaids and ice for you.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Min?" Mrs. Yao comes over to greet him.

"Y/N's hurt. Can I get a bag of ice and a bandaid for her, please?" Mrs. Yao looks over her shoulder and does a head tilt before sighing. She knew you weren't like the girls in your class, always getting hurt one way or another, being more hardheaded and stubborn than the usual. She grabs a bag of ice and hands the supplies over to Yoongi before placing her hands on her hips.

"You think you can take care of Miss Y/N, or do you need me to help?" He shakes his head.

"I got it, thank you Mrs. Yao." He politely says, giving her a small toothless smile. You silently watch as he walks over, crouching down once again to tend to your wounds. "I don't think this will hurt, but stay still so I can put this bandaid on." He says softly as he spreads the small Neosporin packet across your wound. He wipes his finger down on his pants before removing the back of the bandaid and pressing it against your knee. "There. You should keep the ice on it so it doesn't bruise and stuff." He stands.

"Thank you." He nods as he watches you stand and slightly limp before you adjust your steps to the right pressure. He follows you out, coming back to your side with his hands in his pockets.

"Why don't you act like the other girls?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

"What? Not liking all the girly stuff that they like?"

"Sure, or you playing basketball. You know girls are usually like cheerleaders and cheer the guys on instead."

"Well, I don't wanna be a cheerleader. I just would rather play. What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, it's just weird to see."

"You're weird." You snapped back.

"How am I weird?"

"You shoot weird."

"And you don't? I shoot better than you." He furrows his brows.

"No you don't."

"Fine, wanna play one more time? Unless you're a wuss and can't play cause of your knee." You rolled your eyes at the sudden change of events.

"I'll play you, I'm not a wuss. Unless you're afraid to lose to a girl." You taunt him as you both walk back to the court.

"Whatever, I'm not afraid cause I won't lose." He grabs the ball and checks it in. "My ball first."

"Sure, if you think that'll help."

And that's how Yoongi lost to you, busted knee and everything. From there, it was history. You became inseparable, Yoongi becoming a large part of your days and vice versa. His parents eventually became close to yours after the numerous times you both have been dropped off to hang out, or catching rides home after school. Yoongi lived in a nearby neighborhood, only being a good 7 minute walk, to be exact.

Second Quarter: High School, Senior Year

In high school, it became a little different. Yoongi grew up, played varsity basketball and became a fucking jock even though he claimed he would never. Yeah, bullshit. You too, played on the girls varsity basketball team, and surprisingly, you two kept each other close. It was a blessing and a curse though, because you couldn't see your life without Yoongi. He's been there since the 6th grade. However, girls took note of that shit. Trying to use you as their way in to Yoongi's heart, or pants, or both. You made it very clear though that you weren't interested in being a fucking messenger. Girls thought you were mean, but really, they just couldn't handle you. Hence, why you really couldn't relate and be one of them.

Yoongi was still the only person who could understand you and handle you, bad attitude and all. Tomboy habits and all. Not wanting to make friends and all.

"Jesus fucking christ, the day just started." Yoongi says as he watches you toss your duffle bag and backpack aggressively in the back seat of his car. "What's your deal?"

"Nothing, I'm just tired." You slump in his passenger seat after buckling your seat belt.

"Chill, don't start your day like this."

"Whatever, dad." You rolled your eyes, causing him to let out a pathetic chuckle.

"Are you coming to my game later?"

"Yeah, if I'm not too tired from practice."

"Y/N, I always make it to your games even if I'm tired."

"Do you?"

"The fuck? Yes I do. When haven't I?" His tone raises with yours. "Don't try and justify your shit by coming up with lies."

"Yeah, yeah bighead. You'll have plenty of cheerleaders there for you."

"Yeah and?" He smirks. "You're the one I'll be looking for though." He caresses your chin, making you smack his hand away while he laughs loudly.

"You're stupid." You groan as you sink lower in his seat. The rest of the ride to school, you shut your eyes and enjoy the peace before you're having to walk down those annoying, congested hallways.

People rave a lot about senior year, but it honestly hasn't felt special to you. Maybe because you kept the same routine since freshmen year, or maybe you really just didn't care as much as everyone else did about how "special" it was. You've always been locked in to basketball even if your mom wasn't a big fan of it. She wished you were more into cute, girly shit, like makeup, shopping, manis and pedis and dresses and heels, but she came to accept this was the way it was going to be. Especially because your dad was your biggest fan. You came to love basketball, more than just a side hobby. You joined the varsity team and practiced day in and day out. When basketball wasn't in season, you'd play with Yoongi at the park or sign up for camps and tournaments. You just wanted to keep bettering yourself so that you could play in college and get into the league post-grad. Yoongi was the same, and he may or may not have influenced your passion for ball. Either way, he was always supporting you and cheering for you even if the other females hated it.

His ex for sure hated the relationship you had with him even though you really steered clear when she was around. Wasn't your fucking problem or responsibility to take care of her insecurities. Same with his flings.

"Hey, so later, yeah?" He asks in between throwing nods and smiles to girls passing by.

"Mhm." You hum. "You gonna be free for lunch later?"

"I don't know. I know where to find you though if I am."

"Have a good day, punk."

"You too, bub. See you in English." He turns on his heel, walking towards his friends, aka his team members. Aka his jock ass group. Aka the ones females flock to.

Namjoon, Jimin, Eunwoo, Lucas.

They were all pretty boys who knew they were pretty boys and used that to their advantage to make big asshole moves. You hated that Yoonks got pulled in from time to time, but shit, it wasn't your life, you were only a small part of his. Sometimes, they also pulled in the football boys, Jungkook and Seokjin. Even the baseball boys, Hoseok and Taehyung. It was all a huge pretty boy, jock, asshole group in the making outside. A big fucking party for a lot of the girls at school, though.

So even if Yoongi was really the only one in your life, you weren't the only one in his. It is, what it is. As long as he doesn't go switching up on you, then whatever, so be it.

The first half of your classes go by quick, being that you enjoyed your chemistry, french and english classes. You had your english class with Yoongi, Namjoon and Hoseok. You had gotten to know Namjoon and Hoseok a little through it, and it was enough to know that they weren't all that bad. At least in this classroom setting.

"You two going to prom together?" Namjoon asks, making Yoongi snort.

"No, what the hell?" Yoongi responds.

"You guys can have fun at prom." You roll your eyes.

"You're really not gonna go?" Joon bites on the end of his pencil.

"No? The fuck I look like?"

"Y/N, I know it'd be weird as fuck to see you in a dress, but it's senior year. You didn't go last year, did you?" Namjoon asks from Yoongi's other side.

"Really, Namjoon?" You give him a look as if it could state the obvious.

"Well shit, I don't know. I know it's not your thing but can't really say I would have noticed either way." Hoseok laughs, causing you to throw your pen at his head before flicking him off.

"Miss Y/N!" Mrs. Maxwell calls you out mid-movie, eyes wide and in disbelief at how you're acting.

"What?! He started it." You slumped back in your seat and let out a sigh.

"Not another word." She says sternly.

"Not another word." You mock her under your breath.

"Aye, stop. You and that attitude boutta get in some trouble the last weeks of senior year." Yoongi puts his hand on your wrist, causing you to shake your head and click your teeth.

"Anyway, you should go." Hoseok whispers as he leans over on the table to look at you.

"No. Besides, with what date?"

"Take the basketball." Joon snickers.

"You're a complete dumbass, Namjoon. Stop talking." You snap.

"Maybe they're right, bub. It's senior year and it's coming to an end quick. I'd hate for you to regret it." Yoongi turns to you and says lowly.

"You know that won't happen." But really, part of you did feel a little bad. You knew it wasn't your scene, and you really didn't care what people thought of you when it came down to it. However, you always wondered what it would be like if someone liked you. If someone wanted you. Crushed on you so hard that they couldn't keep their hands off of you, couldn't stop thinking of you. Your first love. To feel pleasure, pain. Mixture of emotions simply by being in love. You wondered what it would be like to lose your virginity and have good, good sex. Besides, you were a human with needs. But the only person you have ever been close to was Yoongi. For the most part, you didn't see him that way because you knew he definitely didn't. But, you also couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to take your relationship to that point. If it was anyone, he would be the one you'd have feelings for. He would be your first kiss, your first everything. Because Yoongi was comfort and security for you.

But you valued your friendship more than anything.

"Just saying, think about it." He follows up.

"Think about getting an expensive dress and painful ass heals to wear for one night, just to dance around in 'em and take one professional pic with a date? Maybe get railed if I'm lucky?" You playfully wiggle your eyebrows making Yoongi shake his head.

"Don't be such a party pooper for once."

"Mmm. Great reasoning. Really convincing me here." You laugh it off even though in all honesty, you were thinking about it.

The bell rings and thank god it's finally lunch because you were fucking starving. Appetite and attitude on na-na, no doubt. You silently part ways with Yoongi to stop by your locker and grab your lunch. You make your way to the rowdy ass cafeteria, quickly scanning the room to catch a sight of Yoongi. You see him sitting on top of one of the lunch tables with Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung sitting around him. Clearly, Yoongi wasn't free today.

"Wassup baby? Wanna trade that ball in for me?" Jimin says as you pass by their table to make your way outside to the bleachers. You flick him off before rolling your eyes and pretending to gag.

"Fuck off, Park." The group laughs except for Yoongi.

"Wonder if she's got that bad attitude in bed, too." Yoongi doesn't hesitate to smack Jimin upside the head because yeah, no matter what, he was gonna protect you as much as possible. "Owwww, I'm just kidding Yoongi."

"Don't let me hear you say that shit around me ever again."

"Fuck, I'm sorry. It was just a joke." Jimin winces as he rubs the back of his head.

"Damn Min Yoonks, why don't you take her ass to prom if it's like that?" Taehyung says, chewed up food coming into full view as he smacks loudly.

"Why don't you learn how to close your mouth first?" Yoongi spits back.

"Y/N is really rubbing off on you."

"It's manners, idiot. You should've been learned that." Namjoon says, laughing.

"But foreel, why won't you take her? You both are close, you've never seen her that way?" Hoseok asks making Yoongi shake his head in response.

"She's my bestfriend. I value her just the way she is, no more no less."

"Ah, you must have thought about it at least once." Yoongi keeps silent. Luckily, the group easily gets distracted and starts paying attention to Seokjin and Jungkook coming over as they talk about the dates they've scored for prom.

Yoongi has thought about it. Still does. Just like he is for you, you're the only one who understands him and takes him for who he is. You know the real him besides basketball player Yoongi. You're the only one who keeps it real. But he would rather keep it this way than ruin things between you and him. He'd hate to fuck up with you because he knows he can fuck up, there's no hiding from it. He'd never forgive himself if he lost you.

Practice is hell today for you and fuck, you really wanna just go home and lay down for the rest of the evening. Coach had you all running suicides and conditioning drills on the courts outside and pulling scrimmages against each other left and right. Let's not forget how coach is always on your ass right before a game too. Hell, she catches an attitude way worse than you before game time and after a loss. You wanted to avoid that at all costs. But, to avoid taking the bus home and instead hitching a ride with Yoongi, you throw on a hoodie and haul your ass to the gym in some nike slippers. You take a seat on a free end at one of the bleachers, holding Spalding in between your legs with your duffle next to you on the floor. The game is off to a start in about 5 minutes, Yoongi catches sight of you on the bleachers and nods. You give him a small smile as a gesture of good luck, which he reciprocates.

The game starts off intensely, both teams scoring closely even with the boys putting straight pressure. Towards the end of the first half, Yoongi and Eunwoo are the leading scorers, putting their team up by 10. Halftime is a bunch of hoo-haa, with cheerleaders in their itty bitty skirts, trying to shake their asses as they cheer for the boys. The boys don't even hide the fact that their ogling, and it's clear as day they all want some pussy. Quite frankly, they walk around thinking they deserve it cause of how hard they try to pull some wins and put the school on the map. Student government comes up for a bit too, pulling some kind of skit to weirdly promote prom. It makes you cringe and in all honesty, it makes you not wanna go even more, but it is your senior year. If you can snag a date, then maybe.

"Hey." Terra [not a cheerleader but still a pretty, popular chick] plops next to you with a smirk on her face. Immediately, you want no part in it because you already know what she's trying to do.

"Hi?"

"I'm just gonna cut straight to it. Do you know if Yoongi is seeing anyone?"

"How the hell would I know, Terra?" You furrow your brows at her.

"Because you're close to him, aren't you?"

"And? Doesn't mean I'm telling people his business. Besides, he's not obligated to tell me everything just cause we're close." She rolls her eyes.

"Whatever. Look, can you do me a favor and give this to him?" She tries handing you a little ass piece of paper folded neatly with a pink heart decorated on the front.

"Why don't you give it to him yourself?"

"That's no fun." You scoff and roll your eyes. Really, miss girl? "Be a doll for once, yeah?" She winks and slips the note in between your wrist and Spalding so it stays put. You take the note and eye it, letting out a deep sigh as you shove it into your pocket. You weren't in the mood to be extra rude today so you'll give it to him later when he drives you home.

The game finally finishes with Yoongi making a final three, the boys keeping their lead up by 10. Everyone cheers and showers the boys with love after the team has finished shaking hands and high-fiving their opponents. You stick around until the crowd dies down, watching Yoongi flirt with Terra as you swing your duffle bag strap onto your shoulder before slowly heading down the bleachers.

"Hey bighead, good game today." You lightly punch him against the chest.

"I knew you'd come."

"Shut up. I'll be at your car."

"For what?"

"Cause you're taking me home, punk."

"No please?"

"Please." He shakes his head and chuckles before you part ways to let him gather his things in the locker room. When you finally catch sight of his teeny head coming towards you from the gym, you hear him unlock his car to let you in while he continues to walk over.

"Fuuuuuck." He says, throwing his things in the back before buckling his seat belt and switching the gear into drive.

"You have fan mail." Yoongi looks over and sees you clutching the note Terra gave you.

"What's that, a condom?"

"You're sick. It's from Terra."

"Who's that again?" You make a face at him.

"You were just telling her sweet nothings earlier after the game?"

"Oh, Terra with the tig o' bitties. Got it." He shakes his head. "I wasn't telling her sweet nothings."

"Right. You're an absolute dipshit, you know?" You prop up a leg on the seat while you unfold the letter.

"Give it!" You move it away from his grasp and begin to read it out loud.

"Yoongi, you're honestly so hot. If you don't have a date for prom, I just want you to know that I'm free, and I promise I'll give you a good time if you take me." You cackle. "Boy, what the fuck is this? Ew."

"Shut up." He blushes before laughing along with you.

"Look at her, writing her coochie out on paper."

"She isn't."

"Oh, really? Pfft." You softly scoff. "So, are you taking her or what?"

"I don't know? Maybe, damn. What about you?"

"What about me, fool? I told you I'd think about it."

"Go with Jimin. He still doesn't have a date." He hates to say it with how much of an asshole Jimin can be, but if it meant you'd be at your senior prom then Yoongi will let it pass. He'll make sure Jimin doesn't try any slick shit.

"Ew, god no."

"Look, I'll make sure he doesn't go overboard. I promise."

"Why do you want me there so badly, Yoongi?"

"Because it's our last year in high school together and I'd really like to celebrate with you somehow." You sigh heavily.

"Fair enough. Let me sit on it."

"Better hurry and stop keeping that seat warm."

"Don't rush me." You punch his arm, causing a groan to erupt from him.

- - -

Really, you'd rather be anywhere than at prom with Park Jimin holding onto your waist the way he is for the pictures you're taking with him, Yoongi and the rest of their group and dates. After all the pictures and fake smiles, you feel him slowly slip his hand down your dress to try and get a grip on your ass, but before you could do so, you're grabbing his wrist with full pressure and making him wince.

"Don't you fucking dare or else I'll cut your dick off and throw it in a blender."

"Aish, ah, fuck! Okay, I'm kidding, let me go!" He whines lowly. You let go of his wrist after one more good squeeze, causing him to wiggle his hand to get the feeling back.

"Get me some punch, will you? My mouth is dry."

"You know, I might know something else that can help." Jimin wiggles his eyebrows as he continues to hold onto his wrist.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Or not. I'll be back." He accepts defeat by smiling from ear to ear before walking off. You sit off to the side, the heels a huge pain in the ass on top of Jimin already being a huge pain in the ass. You lean over on your knees, completely forgetting you have a short dress on, causing boys passing by to whistle and eye at the easy access.

"The fuck are you looking at? Keep it moving." Yoongi says pushing the guys forward before shooting you a look. "Y/N, really?"

"Shit sorry, I forgot. I'm not used to this." You sit up and adjust your dress before rubbing your arms at how self-conscious you suddenly [and unexpectedly] feel.

"Are you having fun at least?" He sits next to you, manspreading on the seat in the navy suit he has on.

"Mmm, sure." You slightly smile at him. "What about you? You actually took Terra, huh?"

"Yeah, it's pretty fun." He chuckles. "Don't lie, I saw you dancing a bit earlier."

"That's when the alcohol hadn't worn off yet." You snort, remembering Seokjin's older brother giving the group alcohol after all the parents were done taking their pictures of you all. Yoongi laughs along with you before he looks over and simply stares at you, hair all done, makeup done perfectly without it being too much. You in a dress.

"You look beautiful tonight, bub."

"You don't look too bad yourself, bubby." You blush before Jimin interrupts the moment with your cup of punch.

"Here, princess."

"You better not be trying anything slick, punkass." Yoongi says.

"Mm, don't worry. I haven't been able to." You kick his shin as you chug your punch, causing him to cough and choke on his own words. "I'd like to peacefully have this slow dance with you at least, damn." You swallow the last bits of punch before you're taking Jimin's hand to the floor. Yoongi watches as you two make your way to the dance floor for a slow dance, slightly regretting that he didn't just ask you to dance.

"Let's dance, babe." Terra's baby voice comes out as she pulls him up from the seat to find a spot on the dance floor. Yoongi is honestly tired of having to keep up with Terra's energy and her clingy ass, but nonetheless, he was happy you were around for prom.

He was really happy you were around for prom, even though you hated this shit more than anything.

He had you in full view ahead, and so did you. He couldn't help but direct his attention towards you and keep his eyes on you. Fuck, he has never seen anyone so beautiful until you walked through Seokjin's doors with Jimin. Look, let's get this straight. Even though you had your own way of expressing yourself, he always loved your natural beauty, your natural glow. He loved watching you on the court and how happy it made you to play ball. He remembers every accomplishment, every milestone you've reached. How you've grown tremendously as a ball player. He would never admit it to you in person, but he definitely admires how you push yourself and how you always do what you can to improve. Hell, you might just be the better player between the both of you. And when you catch him looking over, he doesn't even try and hide it. He doesn't even care that he's still holding onto Terra and slow dancing with her.

Something within you flips. You feel that shit in the pit of your stomach, at the heat of your core.

But, you brush it off and break eye contact first, even if he doesn't stop staring. This couldn't happen, no. This was your bestfriend. You weren't gonna let the things you felt get in the way of that.

Nope.

Suddenly, the song changes to something more upbeat and twerkable, Jimin taking the opportunity to spin you around and grind on you. You really need a distraction anyway, something to rid you of those god awful thoughts about your bestfriend, so you let him and you have fun with it. Everyone around you is having fun anyway, and fuck, you wouldn't have to do this ever again so fuck it.

"Let me get a dance with my bestfriend." Yoongi says to Jimin.

"Go dance with your date!"

"Shut up and switch for a second!" Yoongi says, pushing him off of you so he could get behind and dance with you.

"Yoonks, what the hell?" You laugh.

"Go with it, bub. It's fucking senior year, we're graduating soon." You go with his movements, having the time of your life with everyone around you as prom quickly comes to a close.

When you get into Jimin's car, you knock off your heels as he continues to talk nonstop about the night. Jimin was a cutie but god, you could not stand his mindset for the life of you. You were grateful he had agreed to take you to prom, but damn. Prom was done and all you wanted was some peace and quiet.

"I hope you had fun with me tonight." You give him a toothless smile before slipping your heels back on.

"I did, thank you for taking me. Really." He smiles from ear to ear before leaning over near your seat.

"Can I get just one good smooch for the night?" You look at him before you smirk and lean over near his lips.

"Sure." You whisper.

"Oh fuck, this is actually happening."

"Close your eyes, I know you don't fucking kiss with your eyes open. What are you doing?"

"Right. Sorry." He closes his eyes and puckers his lips. You lean in a little closer, feeling his breath against your lips.

Then you flick his nose.

"Ouch!"

"Peace out, Park." You throw open his door to step out and shut it behind you to quietly walk into your house.

The lights are off and your parents are already tucked into the room for the night, leaving you a note on the fridge reminding you to make sure all the doors are locked before retreating to your room. You do as you're reminded before quietly shutting your door and tossing your heels to the side. You let the pins down from your hair, ruffling it around a bit and relieving any pressure on your head. Before turning away from your dresser, you notice a letter from the one university you had been waiting on. You had been waiting to hear back from Stanford for the longest time, and quite frankly, you had been upset you hadn't heard especially when their scouts were at your game awhile ago.

You had broken down to your parents, to Yoongi, automatically assuming the worst when you heard that other people had already been accepted and scouted for Stanford. Suddenly, you found yourself working harder and harder because you felt like you were lacking in so many areas. You felt low, and like your dream was running miles and miles away from you. Faster than you could keep up.

You take the letter in your hand, but don't want to open it because you don't feel ballsy enough [surprisingly]. You call up Yoongi, not caring that he could possibly be in the middle of getting his dick wet.

"Sup?"

"Are you busy?"

"I was just about to walk into my house."

"Oh, nevermind."

"Need me to come by?"

"I got a letter from Stanford."

"Shit, I'll be there in 2 mins."

And in 2 minutes, he surely was knocking at your window. You slide it up enough for him to climb in, Yoongi still in his prom get-up as well.

"Here." You instantly hand him the letter.

"What, why me? It should be you."

"I can't, I really can't." He sighs.

"Are you sure you won't regret this?"

"No, bub. Please." You sit on the bed and fiddle with your fingers as you watch him rip the envelope open and tear out the letter. You can't even keep your eyes on him as he reads the letter and starts backing away from you.

"Shit."

"What? What?!" You stand, trying your best to keep your tone low. He covers his mouth, causing you to pinch his bicep at how dramatic he was being. "Just say it!"

"You're not going." Your heart sinks, but before you could process it, Yoongi speaks up again. "To any other college because Stanford wants you."

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" You whisper and shove him.

"Congrats, bubby. Guess we'll be together in college too." Your eyes widen.

"Y-you're going? T-to Stanford?" He smiles and nods.

"Yeah, I am."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Look, I just wanted to give you your space. That's all. I found out before you went all cry baby on me."

"Shut up." You say before laughing and jumping into his arms, throwing your legs around his torso while he swings you around. As he sets you back down onto your bedroom floor, your hands linger around his neck, gently tugging on the hair that rested there. He keeps you close, his hands resting around your waist as your chests are still touching. You honestly have no idea what takes over you— perhaps all the feelings you felt tonight at prom taking over, or feeling overjoyed from finally hearing back from Stanford, you couldn't decide. But you crash your lips against his, immediately pulling back after you realized you've just kissed your bestfriend.

You just had your first fucking kiss through accidental causes.

Well, shit.

Was it accidental or no?

Mind is going off on a tangent.

"Woah. I'm so sorry, Yoonks, I—" He doesn't allow for any space between you two, keeping your body flush against his as his lips crash onto yours again to cut you off. To be quite honest, things are moving fast and the kiss deepens quick. You follow his motions, gaining some rhythm as your tongue dances along with his in the [now] wet, sloppy kiss.

"Wait, Y/N." He pulls away as the moment intensifies. "A-are you sure you wanna keep going? To be honest, I don't know if I'll be able to hold myself back and I know you haven't exactly—" He knows it would be your first time and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. I mean, sure, he loved you. You were special to him. But he wanted to make sure your first time was also special, whether it be him or whoever else.

"Please. I want this. I wanna do this with you."

By the looks of tonight, it seems like it's meant to be him.

You press your lips back onto his with the same intensity and start to unbutton his shirt when you feel his hands hike up your dress. He gently pushes you on the bed, crawling over to you as he kicks off his shoes and finishes ripping off his shirt and tie. He slowly removes the straps of your dress down your shoulders and undoes the zipper on the side before slipping it down and leave you in your panties.

You had no bra on.

Yoongi's eyes widen when he realizes such, your cheeks heating up while you watch him stare down your body. You begin to feel incredibly self-conscious so you cover your chest with an arm. Yoongi senses your uneasiness, your confidence shooting down below zero.

"You're beautiful, bub. Don't." He says, gently tugging your arm away and letting it fall limply to the side. You simply nod and let him take the reigns because you had no idea what the fuck you were doing. So many emotions were flooding your mind— you were nervous, you were scared, you were shy, you felt lost and too innocent under Yoongi, even if he knew you like the back of his hand.

And because of that, he could pick up on it with the way your body continued to tense up. He shook off his pants, leaving on his boxers until you were ready for him. Cause fuck, he was ready for you, but he had to take this slow. He had to take care of you.

He lowers himself onto you after the two of you have climbed under the sheets, lowering his head against your neck to press light, feathery kisses along the surface. You felt the tingles shoot down your spine every time his lips made contact, causing you to softly gasp and arch your back at how sensitive you were already feeling.

"If you ever feel uncomfortable, just tell me to stop okay?" He says lowly. You nod in response, Yoongi taking it as leverage to plant a kiss on your lips before moving down to your breasts. He keeps his eyes on you, making sure you don't seem uncomfortable in the slightest bit. But you don't, and it's indicated in the way you bite your bottom lip and arch your back at the way his tongue wraps around your hardened bud. He does the same on the other breast before peppering kisses down your stomach and abdomen.

"Yoongi." You slightly gasp, shy at how unusually close he is to your lady friend.

"What's wrong? Want me to stop?" His thumbs gently caressed your thighs as his head hovered over your pelvis. You shake your head and nervously swallow before speaking once more.

"I-I'm just scared, what if you don't like—"

"Shh." He shushes you. "You're everything to me, you know that. You don't have to change just so I could enjoy you in bed. I'll take good care of you, bub. I promise."

"O-okay." He nods, placing a kiss over your clothed clit before pulling them down to get lost within your sheets. He swipes a finger down your folds, causing your breathing to hitch slightly. You watch as he slowly inserts the same digit inside of you, biting onto his bottom lip watching your facial expressions turn from uncertainty to straight pleasure. "Another." You moan.

"You sure?"

"Yes, please." He inserts another digit, curling his fingers upward as he starts to finger fuck you at a steady pace.

"Shit, you're so wet Y/N." He says lowly before lowering his mouth onto you to get a taste and tease your clit. You gasp at the overwhelming sensation, feeling the pleasure bubbling in your core and you had no idea how to deal with it. He picks up his pace while tonguing your clit and sucking at the right pressure until suddenly, you short circuit and tremble under his grip. You purse your lips together to prevent yourself from moaning too loud with your parents at the other end of the hall [jesus fucking christ], knuckles turning white as you grip the sheets tightly.

Your first orgasm came and washed over you quick.

"Did you just—" He removes his digits from inside of you, drooling at your cum accumulating all over his fingers.

"Holy fuck." You whisper as you regulate your breathing, twitching when Yoongi places a quick kiss on your pussy before coming back up to you.

"How was that?"

"So good. Wanna feel you." You whine, tugging him down towards you.

"I got you, bubby." He says, kissing your jaw, cheek, nose and lips. He reaches over into his pants on the floor, grabbing a condom out of his pocket. You furrow your brow and chuckle, confused if this was something he always did.

"You just carry that around?"

"The guys and I split on a box and carried one each for tonight. Just in case."

"Total fucking assholes." He chuckles.

"Better safe than not, right?" He rips it open with his teeth, spitting the wrapper out onto the floor before rolling it down his cock. He was perfectly thick and long, and it made you a nervous wreck all over again thinking about how this could feel. "Ready? I'll go slow." You nod. You immediately felt immense pressure when you felt Yoongi dip his body and slowly enter you. You winced, Yoongi immediately pausing until you tapped his arm to continue. And so he does, and you continue to breathe through it until he bottoms out and lets out a soft groan against your neck. "Fuck, you're so tight bub. God, you're gonna make me cum quick." He slowly pumps in and out, steadying his pace when he feels you buck your hips up to go along with his motions.

The pleasure skyrocketed; You shut your eyes, letting yourself be in this moment. Feel this moment.

He picks it up a little faster, careful not to bang your headboard against the wall. His forehead is pressed against yours, watching as you let out soft whimpers against his lips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yoongi-Yoongi—" You whispered. "You're gonna make me—" It was becoming overwhelming, your clit rubbing against him as he steadied his pace and continued to fuck into you. He nods, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"Yeah, that's it. Let go. It's okay." And that was enough for you to reach your second orgasm tonight. Quick, but fuck. Yoongi made you feel so good, and you wouldn't want it any other way. You shut your eyes as you hurdled over the edge, mouth open with silent, inaudible moans being released. "So fucking pretty." Yoongi says as he feels himself reaching his high with the way your walls pulsated against his cock.

God. So, so good.

He holds onto the headboard and quickly fucks into you until he's spilling his seed in the condom, muffled moans being released against the crook of your neck. It takes a moment before Yoongi raises his head, your hands running through his black hair while he presses a tender kiss against your lips. He slowly removes himself, wrapping the condom in a tissue before tossing it into your trash can. He plops next to you and welcomes you into his arms, caressing you to soothe you from your first time.

"You okay?"

"More than okay." You say, the both of you trying to savor the moment before trying to navigate where to go from here.

What now?

Third Quarter: College, Junior Year (Present)

You bent down, hands resting against your knees as you tried to catch your breath during the timeout Coach Chu had called with 5.2 seconds literally left on the clock. He laid out the play he wanted you and the team to pull off in order to gain the win over Berkeley.

It had to be executed perfectly. No flaws.

Coach Chu had been riding your ass since you were a freshman. But, over the years, you've learned how to work through his tough love and turn it into positives, bettering yourself on and off the floor. It paid off, and he saw the fire in you, finally moving you up to starting point guard right before the season ended. Some team members hated it at first, but eventually, grew to work with it as well.

The plan was to have you come down into the paint and lay up the ball or take a shot at the very last second to avoid Berkeley from getting another chance at scoring. Sometimes you hated the pressure, but you've also learned that a big part of playing ball was thriving under pressure.

Your team closes up the huddle before you and your teammates are heading back out onto the floor to try and get this win. You shake off the nerves, bouncing the ball out of bounds until you check it in with your teammate. After that— it was like a blur. Shit happened so quick, you couldn't even process it. You passed the ball and dashed over to the other side of the court while your teammate put up a screen. You rose your hand as you ran into the paint, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you awkwardly lay up the ball in the position you were in and stumble onto the ground from losing your footing. You turn your head as the buzzer went off, noticing that the ball had bounced off the rim.

You missed a fucking lay up.

How could you miss a fucking lay up?

"Fuck!" You cry as you sit up and smack the floor.

"Aye, it's all good girl! Ain't a big deal! You win some, you lose some! We still got a ways to go!" Your teammate [roommate, and closest college friend] Clarice said as she helped you up. She was right, but every loss to you was a big loss no matter what. Coach was for sure gonna drill you about this too, and you were already mentally preparing.

"Thanks." You mumble. You look out at the disappointed crowd slowly dispersing, wishing you could still catch a familiar face in the crowd.

But, Yoongi hadn't been to your game in years. So you thought. You never caught him if he ever stepped foot into your game.

Your head hung low as the familiar feeling of pain and loneliness came rushing back while you headed to the locker room. Too bad you didn't see him hiding out on the side of the bleachers with Lucas.

"Y/N, a word." Coach Chu says, leading you into his office.

Fuck, here we go.

You shut the door behind you and stand awkwardly in front of his desk, fiddling with your fingers.

"Look, I just want to say that you put on hell of a show tonight, win or lose. We still have plenty of games left, plenty of opportunities to lock in play-offs. Alright? Don't be upset."

"Thanks Coach." You give him a tiny smile.

"Are you doing okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I think so."

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing coach, just been a hectic couple of weeks." In which, it was no lie. You crammed for test after test, project after project. You barely had any time to breathe this year.

"Well, my door is always open if you need to chat." You nod. "I'll see you at practice. Enjoy your night."

"Thanks again." You say as you exit his office and get yourself showered and into comfier clothes.

Meanwhile, Yoongi heads back to his dorm room alongside Lucas, hands dug deep into his pockets while his head hung low.

"You ever gonna talk to her?"

"I don't know." He sighs. "Pretty sure I fucked up any chance of that."

"Look, dude. You haven't really been the same since you and Y/N fell out." Yoongi stays silent as they slowly climb the steps up to their room. "Why are you just gonna leave it like this? It's been so long already. Doesn't it bother you?"

"Positive she doesn't want me around." Lucas shakes his head.

"You haven't even tried. You just gave up and that shit is cold, to be honest. I know Y/N always held it down for you, I would have expected you to do the same." The words cut through Yoongi so deep, he doesn't even know how to respond and leaves it at that.

As you heavily dragged your body back to the dorms and took your sweet ol' time, your mind began to wander back to Yoongi as well. After he had taken your virginity that night, things took a turn for the worst.

He treated you differently, created this distance that allowed you to grow farther and farther apart from each other until he was no longer in your grasp and vice versa.

You went from Yoongi being a part of your every day to nothing. And fuck, did it hurt you. You cried and cried, until you were so tired of crying. You had to pick yourself up and keep it moving no matter what. Life waits for nobody.

You reminisce on those days of debating over who could really be considered the greatest. Although, you did pay your respects to the bigs, the greats— Kobe, Magic, MJ, Lebron— you paid respect where it was rightfully due. However, Derrick Rose at his prime? Rajon Rondo? Chris Paul?

Hell, even Baron Davis, Monte Ellis. Rookie Steph Curry? Shiiit. They were it for you, and Yoongi used to dog your ass on how unrealistic you were being.

That was all gone.

He must be having a ball watching Steph climb up those charts now, though. You wonder what he would say to you.

The days of going to basketball games, to each other's basketball games, to ordering hella pizza and creating chaos in either house over the dunk contest during the NBA All Star Week or yelling all around the living room and jumping on couches during the NBA playoff season and championship games— All gone.

If you knew this would drastically change you and Yoongi, you would have never let that night happen. You continued to put on your brave face, your thick, tough skin even though deep down, it took everything in you to suppress the hurt, betrayal and confusion. Even after all these years.

He meant everything to you. Did you not to him? You could never understand until this day. How could he dispose of you so, so quickly?

You see him on campus and quickly break any eye contact, or run the opposite way. You were tired of doing this even though you felt like you needed closure. Some explanation. You deserved it. But you weren't gonna initiate that. Even if Yoongi did, you don't even know if things could ever go back to the way it was. He promised he would never hurt you, but he has. He still is hurting you. The wounds— it cut deep. Deeper than he could ever imagine.

"Hello?" You smile, hearing your dad on the other line.

"Hey dad."

"Hey baby! How was your game? I'm sorry I couldn't catch it tonight, work kept me behind." You sigh.

"Eh, it's probably good you didn't. Didn't turn out so well." He picks up on how your voice cracks ever so slightly, enough to indicate that you were trying your hardest not to break down about your performance. "I missed the winning shot."

"Oh sweetheart, you'll get 'em next time. You always do. You still have a couple of games left don't you?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't change the fact that I played shitty as hell tonight."

"There's always room for improvement, only way to go is up from here right?" He says softly, making you smile. "You'll get 'em next time, I have no doubt. You always know how to better yourself even when I think you've already reached your highest potential."

"Thanks Dad. You always were my number one fan."

"I still am." He chuckles. "How's everything else? School?"

"Fine." He always has to stop himself from asking about Yoongi, even to ask if there's been the slightest change to your relationship.

"You sure?"

"Course." You lie.

"Alright, well you know me and your mom are here for you if you need anything."

"I know."

"I'll let you go and get some rest, alright? Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Mmm, I'll try." You chuckle. "I love you."

"Love you too. And hey, baby?"

"Yeah?"

"Always remember that you deserve everything good in this world. If someone can't handle you at your worse, they sure as hell don't deserve you at your best."

"Thank you." You smile as if your dad can see you through the phone before hanging up and unlocking your dorm door.

"Sigma Nu party going on tonight, wanna come and slide through?" Clarice asks as she watches you toss your duffle aside.

"I'm tired, not in the mood."

"So aren't I, but I think we both need it. Come on girl, just for a little." You sigh. Clarice had also been there by your side since you both were freshmen recruits. One day, she came into the room and found you a crying mess, causing her to wrap her arms around you and craddle you until you calmed down. You had spilled the beans about Min Yoongi, especially when he quickly became the talk of the campus as a ladies man and one of the best freshmen recruits Stanford has ever seen. You hated it, but a part of you still found yourself happy that he was getting the recognition he deserved as a ball player.

He wasn't the tallest, or the biggest, but boy had heart and played every game like it was his last. You had been his number one fan, and even though you hated him, that fact would never change.

Anyways, without Clarice, you weren't sure where you'd be. Definitely not here because you'd be too busy running away from your past and all the issues that came with it.

Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and say it. You would be stupid enough to not go to your first choice just because of a stupid boy.

"Fine, fine. I'm leaving as soon as someone wants to start acting up and getting all crazy though."

"Deal." She chuckles. You've learned how to dress up a little more— and by a little we mean baggy sweats, a crop tight fitting tee and chapstick. No way in hell you'd get dolled up for a party. Out of the years you've already been here, you probably went to two parties. One being the party Coach Chu threw at his house for a record-breaking season. The other was a legit party that you stepped foot in for all of 2 seconds before you figured it was time to head home, especially after seeing Yoongi hugged up with some chick and disgustingly tonguing her down while groping her ass.

Shit, you were never gonna get used to it.

The frat house is fucking packed and wreaks of weed even down the corner. You and Clarice push your way through, greeting people who were acknowledging your presence and waving at your other teammates that were also present.

"More basketball babes have arrived, let's go!" One of the frat guys cheers as you and Clarice make your way to the kitchen where all the alcohol is laid out.

"One shot?" She asks as she already has her hand wrapped around the Svedka handle.

"One and done." You tell her. You shouldn't have let her pour the shot though because now, you're stuck with nasty ass vodka near the halfway mark of the cup. "Clarice, what the fuck is this?"

"It's called savoring our one."

"You're fucked up." You joked as you tap your cup against hers and take the shot in three chugs. "Really fucked up." You wince.

"Come, lets go see what the other girls are up to and hang out for a bit." You follow her lead to the corner of the living room, chatting it up with your team before dancing around in the little corner you all occupied— keeping as far away as possible from sloppy and messy dudes.

You turned to eye the crowd at some point, catching Yoongi coming down the stairs, a female following from behind holding his hand. Then, they disappear to the outside of the house. You swallow the lump in your throat, the room feeling hotter than it already was.

Why he still had this affect on you, you had no idea.

Clarice and your teammates are too busy cracking jokes that they don't realize you've slipped away to get some air. You're finding that the crowd has come bigger in the short amount of time you've been here and navigating through it has become difficult. You're having to bob, weave and shove your way out, letting out a sigh the closer you get to the front of the house. You're also really glad you've been able to steer clear from—

"Shit, my bad." You unintentionally bump into someone making your way to the front from the side of the house due to you keeping your head low.

"Y/N?" You whip your head around to see Yoongi raising a brow, dropping his arm from the same chick's shoulders.

"Hi." You give him a fake, tight-lipped smile and rush your way to the front of the house. Thank god you finally make it because you were starting to feel claustrophobic, even being outside. However, you weren't prepared for Yoongi to come after you and grab your wrist the way he did.

"Wait, I didn't expect you to be here." Out of defense, you quickly snatch your wrist away from his grip and furrow your brows at him.

"Yeah, and now I'm leaving."

"Why, hang out for a bit—"

"And what, Yoongi? Watch you be the life of the party? Watch you walk around all fine and dandy like shit never happened between us?" You feel the tears welling up on your bottom lids, but you promised yourself you would never cry over him again. You refuse to. He had already taken up so much of you that you refuse to give him any more.

"Is that what you really think?" He says, the hurt apparent in his expression. To be frank, no. Yoongi really, really never meant to hurt you. And just like he had mentioned before, he would never forgive himself if he ever hurt you. He hasn't forgiven himself. He hasn't forgiven himself for how he let you slip out of his grasp when it was his own fault for pushing aside his feelings for you. He thought the world of you, the only woman who kept it real with him and stuck by him through the highest of highs, lowest of lows. There was no one as special as you, no one who could ever be as special as you, no matter how many times he tried to sink his dick into other females.

No one was real like you.

But, he was also conflicted because of that. He felt like he couldn't give you the love you rightfully deserved, he didn't think he could love you properly. He had so much to learn and he didn't wanna hurt you in the process. It sounds so fucking stupid [because it is] that he thought distancing himself was better than just being honest. He was a dumbass high schooler, he didn't know any better. But, he never meant to make you feel special for one night, then run from it. You were always special to him. You had always been. You always will be. And these past years hurt like a bitch, but he coudn't find the words to explain. Eventually, he just believed he would do less damage if you both remained distant this way.

Although, he longed for you. He really needed you just as you needed him. He always has, always will.

So when the two of you bump into each other tonight, he felt like maybe, it was a sign. Maybe it was time to stop being childish.

God, he missed your face.

God, he was a fucking asshole.

"No, I'm not doing this shit." You shake your head. "Just— continue to stay away from me, okay? I'm better off without you." The words sting you, but it doesn't sting you as much as it stings Yoongi. You glare at him once more before you turn on your heel and begin walking down the street to head back to your dorm.

"Y/N! Wait up!" Clarice calls for you, eyeing Yoongi as she passes him to catch up with you down the street. "Hey, hey. You okay?" She swings her arm around you when she catches you silently crying to yourself. "What did he do, Y/N?"

"He fucking exists, that's what." You groan. "Ugh, fuck! I'm not supposed to be crying over his dumbass, I'm better than this Clarice— Why the fuck am I crying over it?" You break down, crouching down to your knees, causing Clarice to hover over you and pull you into a hug.

"Maybe you just need to let it out and stop forcing yourself to not feel anything."

"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him." You bawled into your arms. "I hate him so much." She caressed your back. "But he still finds a way to mean so much to me."

"I think it's time for you two to talk."

"I can't. It's just better this way."

"Are you sure? Because look at you, Y/N. You're a mess, and this hasn't even been the first time you broke down about him. As much as you want to believe that you're fine without him, you're not. He was your bestfriend and I think you need him more than you even know yourself."

"He's doing fine without me."

"You don't know that, baby. Dudes are annoying as fuck because they can literally go on about their day and mask that shit well. If he's ready, let him explain. Hear him out. You both may be misunderstanding the entire situation." It takes you a good minute before you can finally gather yourself and make it back to your dorm room with Clarice.

She was right.

But you were so angry more than anything. You were angry and you weren't sure how you could get past it.

He left your side. 

And so the next day, you go about your day in class, staying quieter than usual during practice. For the most part, Coach Chu was always on your ass because of how vocal you were and how much you caught an attitude when things didn’t go the way you'd like it to. So, to see you this quiet, almost sullen even, concerns him. But, he already pressed you once and he wasn't gonna do it again to avoid irritating you any further.

You run the usual conditioning drills, practicing play by play before a final scrimmage game for the night. You push yourself hard like you always do, almost coming out of practice dry heaving from how tired you are. It was your bad habit though, you wouldn't quit until you got it right. Until you felt right. And unfortunately, it's another one of those nights where you feel unsatisfied with your performance. So, you take it upon yourself to continue practicing in the empty gym that was set to close within the next hour. You're tired out of your mind, and you know this is probably a bad idea, but you can't shake off the feeling of dissatisfaction. To you, that was the next worst thing. Right behind Yoongi.

You begin to work on your three pointers, lay ups and shots out of range before you start to play a scrimmage game with yourself.

"I'll play you." You suddenly hear, the sweat beads dripping down your forehead at this point. You watch Yoongi as he drops his water bottle off at the side of the court before walking over to you.

"Go away."

"Afraid you'll lose?"

"No, I just don't wanna play your ass." You shot up the ball, only for it to bounce off the backboard and land in Yoongi's hand.

"Ball up. Let's play till 10."

"Why the hell do you wanna play me, Yoongi? Don't you have a random chick to bone?"

"I'm clearly standing right in front of you aren't I? Quit fucking talking and play." He aggressively passes you the ball to check it in, you following suit, making the ball damn near bounce off of his chest with how hard you pass it back. He knew exactly how to rile you up.

You get into the zone quickly, trying to find some kind of redemption for the way you had been feeling lately. Redemption, validation, way to take the edge off— anything, really. It was only until the first person scored to 10, but Yoongi was putting up one hell of a fight, jet black hair parted down the middle and matted to his forehead from the sweat building up. You take the lead, sitting at 8 while Yoongi sat at a sad 6 points.

"Ball." You call out as you scored a layup, ramming yourself against the padded wall with the force you had put up.

"That's 10."

"Ball, Yoongi." You huffed and puffed.

"Stop, don't overwork yourself. You just got—"

"Suddenly you care? Stop being a pussy and pass me the goddamn ball." He furrows his brows as he passes you the ball, crouching down to meet you at eye level to try and guard you. You run towards the right of the court, pulling a pump fake before you pivot to get away from Yoongi's guard. You pivot hard and drive it up to the basket, only to fall on the wrong footing and twist your ankle on the way down. "Ouch, fuck!"

"Shit, Y/N!" Yoongi comes to your side, hand supporting your back as the other is on your ankle.

"I'm fine, leave me—"

"Stop being so fucking stubborn and let me help you." He says angrily. You don't say anything else while you fix your position on the floor. "Can you wiggle it at least?"

"Y-yeah." You wince as you wiggle your foot and roll it around a couple of times. Phew, at least this shit wasn't gone for good. But Coach Chu still wouldn't be happy to hear you sprained your ankle releasing your anger on Yoongi during a dumb game. Yoongi helps you stand, arm around your waist as he throws your arm around his neck and holds you steady by the wrist.

"Try walking on it."

"I can, but it hurts a little." Yoongi sighs.

"You just sprained it. Let's go get you some ice or something at the nursing center before going back to your dorm." You silently nod as you hang onto Yoongi for extra support, careful not to make the situation any worse than it already is. He has you sit on the chair within the nursing center, the nurse coming over to wrap your ankle nicely before giving you crutches and some instant hot compress to pop onto it. She orders for security to drive you two over to the dorm building in their go-cart so that you wouldn't have to do much walking on your foot while you focused on healing.

Yoongi doesn't leave your side, even after you've walked into your dark, empty dorm room, not really knowing where Clarice is at right now [possibly library]. He shuts your door and sits you on the edge of your bed, setting your crutches near your bed side and your instant hot compress.

"You need anything else?" Your head hangs low as you slightly chuckle and shake your head.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask him lowly before looking back up at him, tears clouding your vision. "Hm? Why, Yoongi?"

"You're hurt, why wouldn't I—"

"Hmm." You hum. "I'm hurt? So where the fuck were you after prom night? When I was hurt then, where the fuck have you been?" You began to cry.

"Y/N." His tongue swipes over his lips before he sighs. "I'm sorry." He says, close to a whisper.

"Are you? Because I don't think you really understand how bad you hurt me." You aggressively wipe away your tears while continuing to look at him, his body language soft and full of regret. "You didn't care about me."

"How could you say that? I cared—" He sighs as his head drops for a second. "I care about you more than you know."

"If you did then why the fuck was it so easy for you to drop me the way you did?!" You yelled. "You just don't do that to the people you care about, especially if it’s your bestfriend."

"Look, you're right. I have no excuse for the way I acted, and if I could turn back time to re-do it, I would. But I can't, and the only thing I can do is apologize and do my best to make it up to you." His bottom lip trembles as he steps closer to you, a small frown forming at the corners of his mouth.

"Yoongi." You cried. "I did everything for you, I stuck by you through everything, even during the times you didn't deserve that shit from me. But I stayed! I stood by you because you meant everything to me and god—" You groaned. "I needed you. I needed you and you weren't there! I fucking hate you for doing this shit to me but part of me will always have love for you no matter how fucked up the situation is. I will always drop everything for you. I will always care about you, and it's so unfair." It broke Yoongi's heart and he didn't know what to say, but he wraps his arms around you anyway, keeping you in a tight hug against his chest. He's surprised that you let him, even more surprised at how he feels your body soften under his touch.

"Fuck, I'm so, so sorry bub." He says lowly as he presses a kiss on top of your head. "I'm so sorry."

"Please don't ever go again." You cry against his chest.

"No, I'm not. I'm gonna be right here." He says hugging you tighter. "You're the only one who's ever understood me, who's ever kept it real with me. I don't deserve you, but I know damn sure I'll work hard to make up for letting you go in the first place." He places another kiss on top of your head. "I'm right here. Not going anywhere. I'm so sorry."

- - -

5.

4.

3.

2.

1.

"THE STANFORD BOYS TAKE THE CHAMPIONSHIP!" The commentator screams into his mic, Yoongi running a lap around the court before he's cheering loudly with his teammates and joining the group hug. You run down the bleachers, dashing straight into Yoongi's arms while he swings you around.

"That's what I'm fucking talking about!" You squeal and giggle as Yoongi places you back down and plants multiple kisses around your face, hands resting on the small of your back.

"Let's get out of here." He whispers in your ear.

"I'll wait at your car, bighead." You wink, causing him to smile that gummy smile of his that you adore more than life itself.

There's obviously a huge party going on tonight to celebrate this huge achievement, but Yoongi says he doesn't wanna join for once. He's happy, yeah. But the way he wants to celebrate is in peace. After so long, he feels like he can finally say he's content with where his life is at and where it's going. He drives over to the nearest beach, backing into a space so the both of you could sit in the back and try catching all the shooting stars up above. Yoongi leans against the side of the trunk, allowing you to lay your head on his lap while you curled up beside him listening to the waves slowly crash against the sand.

"Saw one." He says, looking up at the sky.

"You're a punk, no you didn't."

"What?" He laughs. "How are you about to say that? I caught it with my own two eyes."

"Oop! I saw one!"

"Now that's a lie. I was looking up too."

"Shut up." You laugh, causing Yoongi to tickle you along the sides before he stops and plants a kiss on your lips. It's silent for a minute while the two of you take in the night view— The sky and ocean coming together as one, forming a view that seemed endless.

"Hey."

"Hm?" You hum as Yoongi's fingers gently brush through your hair.

"You know I love you right?"

"Ew with the sappy shit, Min Yoongi." He laughs.

"Seriously."

"I know." You smile up at him. "I love you too."

"Come here." He says softly, tugging you upwards. You sit up, allowing Yoongi to press his lips against yours. He pulls you in by your shirt, having you straddle his lap while he grips onto your hips and immediately grinds against you. You let out a small moan feeling how quickly he hardened, his cock hitting you in the right places as you continue to grind on him. "Fuck, wanna feel you babygirl."

"Here?"

"Yeah." He chuckles and bites onto his bottom lip.

"What, all of a sudden you're scared?"

"Fuck off." You fire back, releasing his hardened member from its confines as you stroke him gently. He tilts his head back in pleasure before tugging your shorts and panties to the side, enough for him to cop a feel of how wet you are.

"Baby's all wet."

"What're you gonna do about it?" You whisper against his lips, biting onto his bottom lip and pulling back slightly. He hisses at the sensation before he moves your hand from his cock and takes control. He pushes you upward, positioning you enough to line up with your entrance.

"Take this shit off."

"Yoongi, we're in public."

"So, you're all talk and no play."

"I hate you."

"Nobody's here." He groans. "Just take off your shorts, pleeease." He begs as he slowly strokes himself. You toss aside your shorts, Yoongi immediately hooking his finger at the bottom of your panties and tugging it aside in order to push himself into you. He does enough before he lets you do the rest of the work and sink down on his length, a gasp leaving your throat as you take all of him in. He grips your hips tightly, setting the pace as he groans into your neck, your fingers tangled in his hair resting at the nape of his neck.

"Shit, babe." You moan as you tilt your head back.

"Fuck, you always ride me so well." He presses light kisses against your neck before he's nipping at the surface.

"Godddd why do you feel so good?" You whimper.

"You like how I feel inside of you?" You nod. "Yeah? Like how my cock fills you up?"

"Never gonna get tired of it." You moan, Yoongi making you pick up the pace aggressively. Besides the waves crashing, the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin fills the car, along with your soft moans and Yoongi's groans. Your clit is constantly rubbing against him, causing the pleasure to build so quickly it becomes overwhelming. You try to hold off as much as you can but—

"My pretty baby. All I fucking need." He almost growls, the words enough to send you over the edge. You let out a loud moan, not even caring for the houses nearby as your orgasm hits hard and ripples throughout your body, sending aftershocks. Yoongi continues to have you ride him fast and hard, the overwhelming sensation causing a hint of pain to mix with more pleasure until  you feel him feel you up. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He groans as his nails dig into your skin, giving two good thrusts upwards into you to help ride out his high. You both sit in the position for a minute, trying to come back down from your highs. Yoongi gives you a delicate peck on the lips, smiling into the kiss before he pulls away. "Swear you're all I need."

"See, I don't know if I could say the same." He smacks your ass as you hike up and off of him to put on your shorts.

"Take it back."

"I'm kidding." You blush.

"My ride or die. Are you with me?"

"Always have been. Are you?"

"You know I am."

"Good. You know it takes two." He smiles before pulling you into another hug and pressing a kiss against your temple.

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[goldenissues]

bad girl-georgenotfound x reader

summary- you’re a role model student, but recently, you’ve been misbehaving. teacher! george takes things into his own hands and puts you in his place

warnings/notes- smut, swearing, violence?, female receiving, insults

high achiever. that’s what you were. with your kind smiles as you pass by, your top grades, and anything anyone could wish for. you were pretty much always presentable, pretty much always on time, pretty much organised and pretty much pretty. and on the rare days when you were late or forgot a piece of homework, nobody would batt an eye, you were too reliable to worry.

however, it might’ve been this week when people found a notable change in your behaviour. perhaps it was the scowl plastered on your face, the bumping into people- which was very much on purpose- or the changes in things that came out of your mouth.

though, you still did what you did before, it felt threatening to people. you still gave your smiles (even though they made people uneasy when you did now), and you looked presentable, that hasn’t changed.

“y/n, you’re late,” you heard a stern voice behind you as you crept into class. rolling your eyes, you turned to face the taller male-mr.notfound. “good morning sir, how are you? great! right now i’ve got to-“ a smile laid on your face as you sarcastically greeted the older.

“y/n” he sighed, running a veiny hand through his fluffy hair, making the not already perfect strands of hair even messier, “you were a perfect student before; high grades, modal behaviour, neat organisation. what happened?”

you fought the urge to roll your eyes, instead giving him a bigger smile. you hated hearing those words, it’s always ‘what happened?’, “nothings happened, sir. i’m not sure what you’re taking about,”

his tongue poked the inside of his cheek, hesitant to speak for a minute or two before replying with a simple, “whatever y/n, get to your seat, copy what’s in the board,”

>>

you strutted out of class, on your way to the lunch queue when you got called midway from a familiar voice. “y/n,” you stopped in your tracks and huffed as you looked to the direction of the voice- mr. notfound. looking up with innocent eyes, “yes sir? is there something bothering you?” he gave a disappointed sigh, punching the bridge of his nose, “you know what’s wrong. it’s a shame, you’re well behaved in everything, yet you can’t make sure your skirt isn’t so high,”

you crossed your arms, leaning all your weight onto one hip as you gave him the most annoyed look you could muster, “i don’t see why it bothers you so much, sir,” he raised a brow. you’ve never had a good view of mr. not found, especially because of the communication between you and him.

“unroll your skirt,” you glared at him, clearly annoyed at the interaction. still glaring at him, you rolled it up once higher. watching as his breath slightly hitched in his throat, he made eye contact with you again, his eyes holding an emotions you couldn’t quite uncover. “i’ve told you once and i’ll tell you again, unroll your skirt,” you brought a finger to your chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “hm.. no”

“you’re such a bad girl..” mr. notfound muttered, continuing to look you up and down, it sent butterflies to your stomach. however you quickly got back into the right mind, ‘he’s your teacher y/n’, you thought.

“if i see you later with your skirt still so high, it’s going to be a punishment,” you huffed and carried on walking down the corridor, giving him no response.

perhaps you had simply forgot what he said. oh honestly, did it really matter that much? it was only a skirt length, it wasn’t your fault if people found it distracting, i mean it’s not your fault your so attractive. hah.

gliding your finger along the lockers as you headed to the changing rooms. bag trailing across the floor by the way you lazily wrapped your fingers around the strap. you were late to cheerleading again. wow, well done y/n, gold star! eh, you couldn’t care less. as you carelessly strutted down the corridor you unknowingly muttered about how senseless mr. notfound was, “i mean it’s not my fault i’m so hot-“

“tsk tsk, y/n l/n, what a bad little girl,” you stopped in your tracks from pure startles, shooting your head up to the voice, mr. notfound. no matter the effort you made to cover it, mr. notfound truly did frighten you, and the same could go for mr. wastaken. perhaps it was that they made you feel so small and intimidated that you tried to switch it, protesting to their orders.

“what are you doing here so late,” he asked, leaning against the wall with the poster that read “believe in yourself’. you swallowed your nerves in your throat you didn’t even know were there, “i was heading to cheer sir,”

the brunette looked you up and down, staring at your skirt and legs, before looking up to you with a disappointed sigh, “i see you haven’t fixed your skirt, what do you think mr. wastaken will think about this,”

you gulped, internally panicking and unsure of how to reply, “i’m not sure what you’re taking about sir,” you batted innocent eyes, smiling politely up at him. tutting, he leant back of the wall, rubbing his temple in irritation, “you’re so disobedient. i’m afraid you won’t be attending cheer today,”

suddenly, you furrowed your brows, “what? huh?” he grinned and walked closer towards you, close enough to hear his breathing, “you’ve got a detention,” his husky voice spoke into your ear. god his voice made your face as red as a cherry.

“why?” there wasn’t really a point in asking why, you had been gone downhill for the last few weeks: not following orders, turning up late to lessons, being rude and sarcastic. “come on,” mr. not found started walking down the hall, you following close behind.

you were angry, you didn’t like school, but the only things keeping you going was cheerleading, no matter the times that you pretend to hate it. school is shit, you hate it and everything about it: the rules, the students, the lessons, the food, the teachers -well, mr. notfound and mr.wastaken certainly didn’t bat your eye.

yeah you hated them, how they were constantly telling you off, but god they were hot. sometimes you so desperately want them to bend you over their desks and fuck you till you can’t remember your own name.

anyways, you were in a bad mood, you had been looking forward to cheer (even though you were running late) and mr. notfound had to ruin it. huffing and puffing, you glared at any walking students. one girl walked past, looking so fucking happy, and you decided this was the right time to ruin her mood just like yours has been ruined. stopping in your tracks as she stopped at her locker, you yelled at her, “that skirt is so fucking ugly makes me want to puke, are you thick in the head or what?”

“y/n.” the man called sternly, giving you a look to stop. well, that look turned to annoyance once you flipped him off. taking a step closer to the girl who already looked upset, “aw, you gonna cry?” you sarcastically asked, giving a fake look of aw, “pathetic little bitch,”

“y/n, stop it. come over-“ “shut the fuck up sir, i’m not going to your stupid little detention,” turning to glare at him, gritting your teeth, only to earn a look of amusement. “oh so you find this funny? bitch,”

mr.notfound gave you a long, hard stare -intimidatingly long, before striding beside the girl and bending down slightly to her eye level. you watched with a weird feeling coursing through you as him and the girl talked about something, the girls face turning red as a tomato. it wasn’t a surprise really- almost every girl in this school had a crush on him, and well, you couldn’t say anything bad as you were one of those girls.

it wasn’t your fault when you swung at her after she gave you a cocky smirk. she grabbed her cheek, gasping dramatically, before forcing tears out of her eyes. “you little bitch!” you screamed, hitting her again. you didn’t stop trying after sir picked you up with force and pulled you away further down the corridors.

as he frustratedly headed to his office, you couldn’t help but think about how it felt being carried by him. yeah you had done something bad, but god this felt good.

“why can’t you just behave?” he muttered through gritted teeth. you didn’t answer, didn’t think it was your time to talk, didn’t think it was the right moment to give him a bitchy answer. “you were such a good girl before, now you’re punching people as they walk by,”

“i’m sorry sir,” you replied as he sat you down on his desk, walking over to his cupboard. you really were sorry, you didn’t know what had gotten into you recently. though you were sorry, you didn’t regret anything.

as you watched sir rummage through his cupboard, eyebrows furrowed, a trickling down your lower face had become incredibly noticeable. brushing your hand over your nose, you were met with blood -fuck, a nose bleed. it was probably when the girl swung back, but you didn’t notice it. mr. notfound walked over to you with a box of tissues in his hand. leaning in, he grabbed your chin and held tightly as he brushed the soft tissues over the blood. something about this sent a flutter between your legs; perhaps it was his concentrated face mixed with anger, or maybe it was the way he handled you, the way he touched you.

“you’ve been naughty,” he breathed out. breath so close to my neck that it sent butterflies to my stomach, “gonna have to punish you,” the look on his face told you he wasn’t kidding, and the way he didn’t move away from you to put the tissues in the bin, just throwing them into it from where he was.

silence is what surrounded the room, your faces inches away from each other, hungry looks on both. the only thing that broke the silence through time was the breathing that became heavier. and as he smashed his lips onto yours, you kissed back. it was hot, needy, it felt perfect. the messy movement of his lips on yours left you whining in his mouth.

“fuck, you don’t realise what you do to me,” he pulled away slightly, still practically sharing breath. you felt his hand land on your thigh, before feeling him rub it in a circular motion with his thumb. he kissed you again, open mouth, if it was anyone but him you would’ve been grossed out, but god he made this so hot.

you couldn’t imagine what someone would think if they walked in whilst you were messily making out, his hand on your chin grasping tightly with the other massaging the skin on your thigh. he pulled away again, kissing at your face, “the way you prance around in this tiny skirt, you make me so horny, i bet you make everyone else feel like this as well,”

you shook your head, “no sir, only for you, all for you,” as he kissed and sucked at your neck, you felt his smirk plastered on his face against your skin.

you moaned as he sucked at a certain piece of skin, “can’t keep quiet, want everyone to hear how much of a slut you are?” you wasn’t sure how to respond, if you were to say no you would be lying. you wanted people to hear how you were making out with your teacher, you wanted to make the girls jealous. so, all you could do was timidly look away from his gaze.

you gasped as you felt a strong hand grab your black tie and yank it towards him, snapping you to look in his eyes, “look at me when i’m talking to you,” george gravely quipped, glaring at you.

out of nowhere, you felt the sudden urge to be a brat again, not the smartest idea but it would be interesting, “i don’t want to look at you,” you snarked back, watching as his eye brows furrowed and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. hand still tight on your tie, forcing you to painfully look up from the height and the difference of you sitting and him standing over you. “stand up.” he demanded

“no.” suddenly, you felt a harsh slap to your cheek, before your face was pulled up to be inches away from his,

“fucking stand up brat,” his tone was deep and husky, it awoken something inside you. but, being the stubborn person you are, you shook your head. he yanked you up by your waist, then slammed you against the nearest wall.

his warmth engulfed you as he so quickly slammed his lips back onto yours, spreading through you like an infectious disease, however, this disease would be one you want to never leave. he pulled you closer to him from your waist, leaning burning fingerprints every inch his hands touched.

this kiss was not much different from the ones just before, but for some strange reason, this one felt more forceful, daring, one that got you more worked up. as he attached his lips to your neck, quickly exploring more and more of your body, you were well aware you were not leaving that room without bruises. despite being as aware of it as can be, you couldn’t help but want to carry on being bratty.

and as the buttons to your shirt came undone annoyingly slow, you became more and more impatient. “hurry up, if you can’t teach well atleast be able to make me feel good,”

he pulled away, still close enough you could feel every exhale, so close you watched his jaw clench and face so desperately trying not to show just how angry he was right now. it was peculiar that you still persisted to stay bitchy, there really was no need for you to act like this, and you both were fully aware, but you wanted to rile him up, wanted him to know you don’t give up easily, wanted him to earn this from you. in hindsight, that was probably it the brightest idea and you you became aware of that the longer he started into your eyes.

“oh i’ll make you feel good,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “and you’ll fucking like it, so don’t tell me to hurry up,”

with that, he pulled your shirt off, hands immediately going to your back, desperately fiddling with the clasp off your bra as you innocently looked up at him, acting like you weren’t just pissing him off, “your so fucking annoying,” he murmured, the clasp loosening as he pulled the fabric down your arms, leaning you bare chested.

“your acting like i don’t turn you on just by walking around school sir,” you retorted, as he rolled one of your nipples through his long fingers, smiling sweetly whilst he scoffed, however mesmerised by how beautiful you looked.

“remember what you’re saying whilst you’re begging to cum and i say no,” he whispered into your ear, before moving his mouth to circle his tongue around your other nipple, and both of you noticed the goosebumps that covered your skin in that few seconds.

right as you were about spit another retort, syllables falling down your throat and being replaced with a choked moan as you felt his hands sneak their way under your short skirt that pretty much started this whole thing.

gripping your thighs, taking in exactly how the skin felt with his hands over them. you felt your heart almost beat out of your stomach as you felt a hand get closer to your leaking heat, barely covered by your damp panties. “and with how your acting your probably not wet right now. isnt that right?”

and you couldn’t mange to say a word as you felt his middle finger run over your panties, barely ghosting your clit, leaving you wanting more contact. his pointer finger caught onto the side of the fabric, pushing it aside, leaving just enough space for his middle finger to feel the juices that so guilty poured out of you. his touch felt so cold compared to your heat, leaving you so embarrassed as he coats his finger in you before slowly pulling away, catching your eyes with a smug smirk whilst doing so.

“oh? oops,” he chuckled, “looks like i was wrong,”

without a second to respond, his fingers shoved themselves inside you, leaving you whimpering from sudden pleasure. you almost collapsed if it wasn’t for him holding your waist with one hand as he roughly pumped them in and out of you, leaving lewd noises to spill out of your lips. drops of wetness spill down your thighs, he still persistently works his magic through your wet underwear, thumb sneaking to rub tight circles on your clit. and you couldn’t stop yourself as a moan left your red lips, music to his ears, and his smug smile grew bigger. you can’t help letting out noises when he made you feel this good, but of course, you couldn’t let him know that, couldn’t let him know that he made you feel heavenly. everytime he pumped his fingers, everytime they subtly brushed over your clit, it left you twitching.

y

s-sir, sir fuck! please i’m-!” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before his fingers ripped out of you, the pleasure disappearing into thin air, taken from you. as you stare at him, your hands having a mind of their own, moving down to your heat out of instinct, but being grabbed and pinned above your head before you could reward yourself with pleasure.

“don’t you fucking dare. what happened to the brattiness? you come when i give you permission,” both of you are well aware that you’re brattiness has been taken away from you when you don’t reply, just look into his eyes and nod, swallowing your nerves. and that’s when his smirk grew bigger, he loves this.

you watch as he unbuttons his dress shirt, throwing it pulls and he pulls his trousers and boxers down, exposing his throbbing, sizeable cock that sent a pit to your stomach. his eyes catch sight of you as your practically drooling over him, and he does nothing but smirk as your eyes meet.

“get on a desk, all fours, unless you don’t want to be pleasured,” and you comply, pulling your panties and skirt down leaving you in nothing but a tie and thigh highs, climbing onto a desk, legs trembling. you watch as he unbuttons his dress shirt, throwing it off and he pulls his trousers and boxers down, exposing his throbbing, sizeable cock that sent a pit to your stomach. his eyes catch sight of you as your practically drooling over him, and he does nothing but smirk as your eyes meet.

he moved behind you, “i won’t be gentle,”

SORRY I DIDNT FINISH IT. i started writing this months ago but now i’ve kinda left the fandom and i’m never gonna finish this so here it is. you can imagine the rest.

new obsession: it (novel and book) ✅

new person to obsess over: jaeden martell 😍😍

i’m probably gonna post it oneshots and maybe stranger things fluff.

#georgenotfound smut #georgenotfound #dreamwastaken #dream smut #sapnap #minecraft #streaming #youtube #smut #mcyters #mcyt smut

[sirisuorionblack]

Professor Lupin

Professor!Remus Lupin x Professor!Slytherin!Reader

Request: Hey! Could I please request a Professors AU with Remus? I melt over the idea of him reuniting with someone from his school days when they both become professors and potentially a shit ton of pining from our boy Prof. Lupin ☺️ ty lovely!!! Xxx

Warning - none that know of.

A/N I hope you like it @cherrycolakxsses! Had so many doubts to post it but this I finally out. It's quite lengthy and might feel rushed at the end. Sorry!

"(Y/N) (L/N),” Professor McGonagall’s voice tore through the music blasting inside (Y/N)’s office. Does it set a bad example? Definitely. Does she care? Maybe.

“Old habits die hard, Professor,” she said, extinguishing the candlelight on her desk that's been lit since last night when she was going through a few papers. McGonagall chuckled at that.

The two of them walked down the corridor to the great hall for breakfast when Professor McGonagall said something, “Who do you reckon is going to be this year’s Defence Professor?”

“The dementors?” (Y/N) asked, looking genuinely confused.

McGonagall glared at her, “I wish you weren’t a professor, I could have deducted points,”

“Professor Slughorn would have been mad at that,” (Y/N) chuckled.

Professor McGonagall smiled at the fond memories of her past colleague complaining to her about “unfair deduction of house points”.

“But tell me a plausible guess of who might be this year’s Defence professor,” she insisted, a small smile tugging on the corner of her lips.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes, “What are you planning, Minnie?”

The said person rolled her eyes at the nickname, “Well, I will tell who the Professor is - Its Remus Lupin,”

She could see the young professor straighten, staring at a spot on the ground as her thoughts ran wild, mind flooding with memories of a certain familiar Gryffindor.

“Oh,” was all she could muster.

“He will be joining us tomorrow,” McGonagall said carefully, looking intently at the girl before her.

“What!? Tomorrow?” she said, her eyes blown wide.

“Yes, and I except for him to have a good welcome,”

“You think I would be...mean to him?”

“What are you two still in your fifth year?”

“Oh come on, Minnie! Don't do that!”

“I should give it to the two of you, it was rather hilarious,”

“What is hilarious in watching two fifteen year olds duel!?”

“You will know it,”

That night (Y/N) rolled on the expanse of her bed, wanting nothing but the face of the Gryffindor to just disappear and allow her to sleep but all she could think about was him. She wondered if that same high school crush was turning, she wished not.

“Welcome, Remus,” Professor Dumbledore greeted him with a wide smile as Remus looked around the Headmaster’s office. He had come here only a handful of times and every single instance was just not the best.

“Hello, Professor,” He said, smiling politely.

After the introductory chat, Dumbledore said, “Well, come on, then, let me introduce you to the rest.” Remus smiled awkwardly as the Professor clapped him on the back.

Remus stopped dead in his tracks as Professor McGonagall and another young woman walked in. He immediately identified her, it was (Y/N) (L/N), his once upon a time arch-nemesis. He clearly remembered her 16 year old self, a bright smile on her face as she spoke to him rationally for once, settling everything, that contrasted the taboo of students with green robes having cold look.

(Y/N)'s smile slipped as she saw him, he was extremely thin and malnourished but he did have a smile on his face that compensated for everything else.

“Hey,” she said, mustering the smile back and outstretching her hand.

Remus coughed as he managed to break out of the trail of memories and shook her hand, “Hello,”

“Ms (L/N), can you please accompany Mr Lupin to his office?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes, professor,” she said without giving it another thought.

“Do you remember this place?” (Y/N) asked with a smile as they reached a deserted corridor.

Remus barked a loud laugh, “Oh, how can I not! Wasn't this the place where we charmed the water balloons to pop right above your head?”

“Yep, it was the very same place where the epic duel happened, the time I had almost won,”

“But you didn't,”

“And neither did you,”

“I think - what was his name? - Liam Holloway! Yes, he ended up in the hospital wing,”

“That's what you get when you try to get in between a duel,”

Remus chuckled, “One of the reasons that was epic because that's when they saw Hogwarts’ most silent people have a fully-fledged duel,”

"Oh, yes! But honestly, to this day I have no idea how it started,"

Remus chuckled, "It was because the water had drenched your potions and charms essay "

"My potions and charms essay? Remus," (Y/N) dissolved in a fit of giggles, "Oh goodness,"

"What?" Remus asked, a smile spreading its way on his face. He waited for her to calm down.

"Professor Slughorn had looked at me pitifully the next class and then said I didn't have to hand in that essay and Flitwick did too. I hadn't done either of their essays that time. And when they told me that I was so confused as to why they did,"

Remus' jaw dropped as he looked at her incredulously, giggles still escaping her lips, "And I being the nice person I was, I wrote that essay for you and had James put it "discreetly" into your bag. Wait, that green bag was yours, wasn't it?"

"That was you!?" She asked, her eyes wide.

"Yes," he said, nodding.

"Oh, Merlin, I thought it was Snape for some odd reason and I was being good to him!”

“Should I be offended?”

“I dunno, I am sorry,” she wiped the tears that formed in the corner of her eyes with the amount of laughter she did within the few minutes.

Remus watched her as she smiled and looked around, the two of them falling into a comfortable silence.

“This will be your office,” (Y/N) said, opening her arms wide open at the entrance, “the terms start in a couple of days and then-” she grinned at him.

Remus was slightly distracted by the tank that stood at the side of the room, perhaps it was a fish tank; it was empty so he had no idea about the use of the tank and the thought of buying a fish for it ran high.

“No, honestly, the kids are great!” she said proudly, misinterpreting his silence.

“Are they?” Remus asked as he looked around his new office.

“Yes! I mean they are so lovely and sweet and just amazing, unlike some,” she said pointedly.

Remus chuckled, “What are you insinuating, (L/N)?”

“You know exactly what I am insinuating, Lupin,” she said, smirking.

(Y/N) squeezed Remus’ arm, watching his eyes turn glossy as he looked at the boy seated at the Gryffindor table laughing with his friends, resembling a lot like Remus’ late best friend.

He sighed and looked away. Soon, Professor McGonagall engaged him in a conversation, as though sensing the situation long ago. He spoke to her, a subtle forced smile on his face though all he could think about was his friends at the age of fifteen running along the corridors hollering and howling with laughter as they did so, and (Y/N).

“Good morning, Professor Lupin,” Remus heard as he walked through the corridors of Hogwarts - his once upon a time home, where he laughed and found friends and people who loved him, people he loved - he turned around to find (Y/N) grinning at him, “You know, I never thought you’d be a Professor,”

“You think I don't have the capability?” Remus asked, his eyebrows scrunched in offence.

“No, I mean you were after all the brain behind those petty pranks,” she said, grinning at him, “Do you think I didn't notice those “secret” whispers?”

“You-how?” Remus asked.

(Y/N) froze, biting her lips to prevent the blush from spilling onto her cheeks, “That doesn't matter. By the way, I must say, that prank on Snape where his hair was neon green for a week-?”

“That was epic and you know it,” he cut in.

“Yes, I know, Lupin, let me finish, will you? The part of the reason why it was because I did something,” she smiled cheekily, looking at him through her lashes and making Remus’ heartbeat cease and he felt as though the air in his lungs were knocked out.

Remus blinked, looked at her and asked, “What?”

(Y/N) chuckled, “Yes. The potion was to turn Snape’s hair a shade of purple, it was quite nice on him I must say but it wasn't - how do I put it, um,” she snapped her fingers in the air trying to find the right word.

“Humiliating?” Remus suggested.

Her eyes widened as she chuckled, “No, more like embarrassing?”

Remus smiled, “Alright,”

“So, I had mixed a neon green solution I had stored for, well...you,”

“For me!?”

“Yes,” she said with a giggle.

Remus blinked, “Why would you do that?”

“Um, good question but remember I hated you at that period of three months,” she said, shrugging.

“Well, now?” Remus asked, tilting his head slightly and staring at her intently.

“What now?” she asked.

Remus looked away from her striking orbs and at the sea of students, “You know, do you still hate me,”

“Nah,” she said and proceeded to mumble incoherently.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all,”

The two of them fell into the depths of awkward silence, struggling to get back. Students who passed the greeted and smiled, giving (Y/N) an opportunity to break the silence.

"What are you planning to do in your first class?" (Y/N) asked.

Remus had brainstormed the past night. He wanted something that would make his first class a good one, an opportunity to teach the students all while taking a place in their heart and getting to know them. Remus believed that a student would like the subject if they liked the teacher.

"I thought of doing some theory part or something like that," Remus shrugged unsurely.

“Theory? On your first day?” She looked at him as though he was an alien, “Wow, Lupin, I thought you were genius,”

Somehow, as she muttered those words Remus felt a blush forming on his face, perhaps because she thought he was a genius (which he was), or it was embarrassment.

"You could do like practical like, I dunno, something cool," she said, waving her hands wildly.

"Um, what is cool?" Remus said, blankly.

(Y/N) stopped, gawked at him and left forward, shaking her head, "Do whatever you want, Lupin!" She yelled.

"Hey, hey, wait! (L/N)! HEY!" He called after her, watching her go without another glance at him, "And there she goes. Great, Remus, scared the girl away,"

"You did a boggart!?" (Y/N) exclaimed, the evening Remus had come into her office uninvited - definitely startling her - and boasting about what he taught that day.

"Yes," Remus chuckled, "Neville's boggart was Snape, you know,"

(Y/N)'s jaw dropped, "Wait, I, oh my goodness, his worst fear is Snape?"

"Yeah," Remus mumbled. (Y/N) fell silent as her eyes connected with his, both of them drawing deep breaths. She got lost into the depth of his eyes, concentrating on trying to find which colour they adorn - green? brown? amber? - it would take her years to find out.

(Y/N) coughed and looked away, breaking herself from...whatever she was put into.

"Um, uh," Remus shifted on his feet, one hand stuffed into his pocket and the other scratching his neck, "Would you - um, perhaps we could, I mean, if you want to-" Remus stopped his stuttering and took a deep breath, "We could take a walk? Like just down the-"

(Y/N) chuckled, standing up and crossing the desk. She grabbed the jacket that hung on a stand in the corner of her office. The coat was an obnoxiously dark colour of green that made Remus scrunch his face.

"What?" She asked, narrowing her eyes, "You don’t wanna come?"

Remus grinned extremely widely, and snatched his coat, stumbling to join her pace.

The two of them walked down the corridor to the black lake, their surroundings cold, the chill air swishing their cloaks yet the two of them felt warmth seeping into every inch of their body.

"You do know that it's way past curfew, don’t you?" Remus tried to joke. The keyword being - tried. He was bad at that, he was bad at flirting, he was absolutely terrible with girls.

But to his utter surprise, (Y/N) threw her head back, laughing, "You do know that we are Professors, don’t you?"

"Well, it’s my first day," Remus shrugged.

"Oh, now about that again - did you really do a boggart with your students? Really? In the first class you wanted them to show their fears?" She said, glaring at him.

Remus shrugged and looked around, his eyes catching the moon, it was waning gibbous, 7 days due to full moon. He was finally back at Hogwarts for the full moon. 16 years later.

"Remus," (Y/N) laid her hand on his arm. He suddenly whipped his head to look at her, the movement adding to their close proximity.

Remus froze. Her eyes. They were captivating to him. They shined under the moonlight, her eye colours modified into bright, shining ones. He fell into the mysterious depth of her eyes that pulled him closer, quite literally.

Both of them did not know when but soon their lips connected in a messy kiss but it was perfect for them. Their hands manoeuvred until hers were buried into his brown curls and his arms wound around her waist, pulling her closer. Remus tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

Kissing under the moonlight, what a cliche, yet, Remus Lupin wouldn't want it any other way.

#remus lupin x reader #Remus Lupin #remus john lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #professor lupin #professor!remus lupin x professor!reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x slytherin!reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader