#he has given us like three classes this semester

[ncteez]

Pretty Boy. (m.l)

Mark’s favorite thing to do is sit alone at the library and enjoy the knowledge that his university offers. In contrast, your favorite thing to do is go to parties and enjoy as much chaos as possible. However, upon realizing your grades have dropped drastically due to this lifestyle, you have no choice but to approach Mark for help. 

or the one where your new favorite thing to do is seduce the most inexperienced man you’ve ever met and watch how desperate he gets for you. 

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | if you read it, reblog it. 

wordcount― 9.3k

pairing― mark lee x fem reader

content― shy and needy mark, openminded and playful reader, college au, the majority of this is smut, mark has a thing for girls who look exhausted from studying

note― just wanted…no, needed, to write mark being totally hypnotized by someone wanting him between their legs for once.This is not proofread as i’ve given up on using a beta. 

smut tags under cut:

smut tags― mark is...big. he is also a pervert and smells ur towel lmao, mentions of food and detailed popsicle eating,  reader is very vocal and talkative, slight  use of the pet name “baby” and “pretty”, a lot of cum, cream pie, unprotected sex, mention of bc pills, mark has a huge cock and he didn’t even know it, inexperienced mark, experienced reader, finger sucking, nipple sucking, grinding, oral (f receiving) , mark gets on his knees, making out, sex on a table

~

             It wasn’t shocking that you were failing but it was shocking that not a single one of your friends was failing with you. They somehow managed to keep their grades up while partying as often as possible. You don’t know how the hell they did it and you also don’t know why the hell they refuse to help you study now that they’ve seen your failure.

            Not the greatest friends, you think. They won’t help you study because they only have time to study their own classes and to continue partying without you. You knew you had to come to terms eventually that these people aren’t your friends. They’re just people to party with, people to have fun with, and apparently, people that will watch you struggle.

            It’s frustrating to walk home from classes by the run-down houses with booming music already playing. Without fail, every time, you wish you could be attending instead of studying. It’s even more annoying when you give up on your studies because you’re just not fucking getting it, and you probably would be fucking getting it if you were at a party talking to potential boyfriends or fuckbuddies. 

             Fairness in the world is so hard to grasp. Someone else always has it, but never you. The worst part about all of this is that you’re very aware of how lucky you actually are, you wasted away in college and allowed yourself to get this low simply because you were lucky enough to be well-liked. You prioritized the pointless things over the important things, and now you’re suffering for it. Complaining that you can’t attend parties, looking like a bore to your friends who pity you and are embarrassed by you for not being able to multi-task like everyone else.

            That’s right. You can’t party and study like everyone else, so maybe now it’s time to focus on the task you’d pushed aside for so long.

            Studying. 

 ~

             You don’t know Mark past the fact that he is in at least three of your classes, extremely quiet, and constantly in the library when you pass by to leave the campus. You’re a little bit ashamed to admit that the majority of people you are well-liked by are the people who are ignoring you right now. The only choice you have is to find someone that can help you catch up on all of the studies you’d blatantly abandoned. You could go through the student center and “officially” attend tutoring sessions with someone who would likely scoff at you for not getting it, or you could find someone of your own choice to help you. 

            That’s the only reason Mark comes to mind. Again, he is in three of the four of your classes. Every semester, without fail, you’ll look for your name on the dean’s list knowing that it’ll never show up, but you have seen Mark’s name on that list more times than you care to remember. 

            Mark knows of you as well. The girl who cut in front of him in the cafeteria to grab coffee with her large group of friends, making him ten minutes late to being early for his class. The girl who loudly slammed a book down in the library, the girl who came into class stumbling and giggling with one of the guys, clearly still tipsy from the night before. 

            You were everything that Mark isn’t. You were everything he avoids when accepting friends into his life, and his interest in you didn’t really go past the point of having a stubborn, pretty girl, to look at. He is a man after all. A man who is finally away from home, surrounded by hormonal women and men who can’t see past their brain fog of sexual fantasies in class. 

            Mark has those fantasies too, but it isn’t his focus. He is dead set on being a top student, one that people recognize on the academic end rather than the partying end of it all. So, here he is, sitting with his nose in a book, glasses sliding down every few minutes as he munches on a pack of crackers. He’s been here for three hours already and finds comfort in the silence of the library. It’s such a vast place with so many corners to hide in if someone were to come and disturb his peace. Today was like any other Friday, where few students choose to study and instead opt for one of the various frat parties or bar hops. 

            You wish you could be one of those people, truly, but instead, you’re making your way to the Library in search of Mark. The one student who you assume may actually take you up on the offer of study sessions. You imagine his shocked face when you sit in front of him, and you try your best not to imagine a look of disgust rather than approval. Needing Mark now, for the first time in your life, more than ever. His knowledge of the three out of four classes you have will surely work wonders on your GPA, you will probably have to admit how much you’d be relying on him to accept your offer.

      The library is so deafeningly silent when you walk in. You can’t hear even the slightest of a whisper as you walk around and peek into the many empty study rooms and cubicles. After several minutes of searching, the anxiety bubbles up inside of you. What if he decided to do something else? Of all days? The one day where he is needed to be studying? 

     Just as you turn to leave, ignoring the entire second floor of the library, you nearly walk straight into him. And by ‘nearly’ you actually walk directly into him. 

     Books clattering to the floor, Mark sighs as he looks down without making eye contact with you. It’s not the first time he’s been walked into and it probably won’t be the last. He is forever wishing that people could just watch where the fuck they’re going. 

“Hey, I’m sorry–” You go to say as you lean down to help him pick up his books, he still doesn’t look at you and you note the AirPods in his ears. 

            When he does take note of another person helping him retrieve his things, he looks up. You’re not shocked that all he does is nod at you when he takes the book from your hands and makes his way back towards his study space. 

            In an awkward way, you follow him. You feel dumb and kind of lost in this world of books and good student(s). Up the stairs, towards the floor you’d not even bothered to check, Mark unintentionally leads you to his little corner that already has papers and books laid out. 

            You swallow hard when he takes his seat and looks up to see that you had followed him. Mark is quick to swipe one of his AirPods from his ears and you can kind of tell that he instantly went from relaxed to nervous.

“Uh–” You look around, feeling awkward standing there. “I was looking for you.” 

“Me?” Mark questions with a soured look on his face. He doesn’t really do it intentionally, it’s just, like, why are you looking for him? “Why?”

“Okay, just hear me out.” You start, taking a few steps forward and inviting yourself to sit at his table. There is absolutely no arm space on this side, but that doesn’t entirely matter. You begin your pitch.

“I know it’s kind of weird, but, I’m failing.”

“That’s not weird.” Mark mocks, shaking his head and moving to put his airpod back in his ear.

“Wait! Just, please hear me out.” You ask, a little frustrated that he’s already refusing to help you.

            He looks around and then lets out a deep sigh. Rubbing his temples, he nods.

“I know we aren’t the type to like, help each other or whatever– but I’ve asked all of my friends, and they kind of blacklisted me…you were my last resort, I swear.” You say, pleading with your eyes. “Can you please just help me study for like, a day a week?”

            His body is stiff and his face is unimpressed by your pitch. 

“An hour a week?” You adjust, clapping your hands together to plead even harder. You very nearly start to grovel on the ground before him. “Mark, please. I need to get my grades up.” 

“If you had just given yourself a day a week, you wouldn’t have to be asking someone you’ve never even spoken with to help you study.” Mark comments, still mocking and appearing a bit cocky at the sudden power he’s been given. “How many classes are you failing?”

“I’m failing three classes and have a C in another…” You shamefully admit. “Just an hour a day, please.”

            Mark eyes you over, shifting a bit in his seat before letting out another sigh. 

“Finals are barely a month away.”

“I know! I’ve already got extra credit lined up so I can at least get my grades up a letter but– I,” You look down, more shamed than before.

“You don’t know how to do the extra credit.” Mark finishes for you and is, for some reason, shocked when you nod. 

            He can see the panic in your eyes, and he noticed for the past week that you’d been looking incredibly tired around campus. Not the hung-over type of tired either. He noticed you move your seat closer to the front in one of the classes and even noted that you’re actually taking notes during your time spent there. Maybe he should help you out. If not for the fact that you genuinely seem to need it, but also maybe because he’s like, incredibly aware that he is attracted to you. He always has been.

“Okay, you can come study with me whenever you want then. I usually study here because I have a roommate who isn’t the quietest person in the world–” He goes to explain. 

“I have an entire apartment to myself, you can come study at my place. Really, I’ll make food and everything.” You panic, still trying to sell the idea despite him already accepting your offer. 

            Mark is a little shocked and offended that you have your own apartment, and yet you’re failing your classes. No way in hell are you paying for that yourself. This only prompts him to want to help more. Because? An entire apartment to study in? Where a pretty girl makes his food? 

“Okay, that can work. What days and times can I be over?” Mark questions, noting the three shared classes and the one other you’ll probably need help with. He hopes he’s already taken the outlier class, otherwise he won’t be much help in that regard. 

“You can walk home with me after those classes if you want, and we can study until you’re ready to leave?” You offer. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be every day, but–”

“We can meet up after every class and decide if you want to study or not.” Mark finishes for you yet again, and you nod with a smile. 

“What’s your favorite food?” You ask, wanting to make a mental note of keeping your end of the bargain. 

            Mark thinks hard at that because being put on the spot like this makes answering any question a bit difficult. 

“Here,” You hold out your phone. “Put your number in and you can think about it. I’ll text you so you have mine.” You can’t wipe the smile off of your face, the anxiety is practically dissolving from your body at the very idea of someone being willing to help you in the comfort of your own apartment.

            He, on the other hand, is a bit more anxious now. He realizes that now, he’s going to be studying with you. A girl who had never even looked at him twice during the semesters you’ve shared classes. He’s putting his number into your phone, and you’re going to be texting him, and spending time with him instead of going to the parties that he’s never invited to. 

“I’ll see you on Monday?” You ask, sending a quick text to him so that he can save your number. He nods and looks down at his books. “Don’t forget to text me what you want to eat, okay?”

            He nods again as you stand to walk away. He watches you and notes the little bounce in your step when you round the corner. 

            Slamming his head on the desk, he, much like you, cannot stop smiling. All thoughts of studying for the remainder of the night left his head and were replaced with his new study schedule. He thinks he will try and take it easy this weekend, specifically so he is mentally prepared. He’s only talked to you for a total of fourteen minutes and he’s already lost his ability to study and think clearly. 

If he’s lucky, the two of you will pass this semester with flying colors. There’s still that tiny part of him though, that wonders if maybe you’d find interest in him, and maybe he will fail the semester with you because, honestly, you are so distracting.

 ~

             On Monday, you sat up straight in class while eyeing the back of Mark’s head most of the time, out of preparing yourself for when he makes a break for it. He hasn’t even texted you what he wanted to eat today, and part of you wonders if he went back on his promise to you. Not that it was much of a promise in the first place.

            He was a little shocked that you weren’t the first out of the room once everyone wrapped up. It was common for you to leave mid-way through class or be the first one out the door. Instead, today, you stood there awkwardly looking at him as the room continued to empty. 

            Mark nods your way as if to beckon you towards him. 

“You’re still wanting to study today?” He asks with a brow raised in surprise. All weekend he had thought about it. Thought about the possibility of it just being a joke to you, or maybe that you’d change your mind and allow yourself to flunk out like you already had been doing. His heart kind of jumped a bit noticing you looking at him. 

“Yeah? Wasn’t that the plan?” You ask, nudging him a bit once you get up beside him. “You didn’t text me what you wanted to eat so you’re just gonna have to eat whatever I have in the fridge.”

            Mark nods, opting to stay silent at this moment. He’s going home with you. He’s going to be seen on campus walking home with you. He’s not the sort to want attention, but this situation feels dangerously attractive to him. Especially when he takes note of how you’re probably going to look all. . . at home in your apartment. Like he gets to be in your space teaching you things that you should have already known. 

            It all shouldn’t be so exciting. After all, his days are filled with the typical boring sessions of reading, writing, noting, and memorizing. It is exciting for him though. Never has he studied with someone like you, or really even gotten to talk to someone that most of the men speak to, the unreachable men. You’re one of the unreachable women on campus, he thinks. The ones with standards based on fun, attractiveness, and chaos rather than charisma, personality, and knowledge. It’s kind of a once-in-a-lifetime thing for Mark, he thinks. 

“Okay, so...” Mark drones out, avoiding eye contact with you as he packs things into his ratty backpack. “I’m not super hungry right now but–  we are going to your place right?”

            You nod with a smile, grabbing his hand as soon as he throws his backpack on. It isn’t intimate to you, but for him, it’s…something. Holding his hand is reserved for intimate relationships with family or girlfriends. He doesn’t hold hands. He’s never really gotten the chance to hold someone’s hand past his little cousin when they were crossing the street last summer. Not since high school anyway. He can’t help but buckle in on himself in a shy sort of way as you lead him from the room and out of the building. 

            You’re rambling about all of the things you need to study. All of the snacks you could offer to him. All of the hours you wish you hadn’t wasted partying, yet, all he’s thinking about is how warm your hand feels in his. You seem to be a natural at talking to people. Touching them without a single worry in the world, it’s kind of nice, he thinks. The fact that you aren’t ashamed to be seen together with him, heading towards the place you sleep. Sometimes Mark forgets that this is college. No one actually cares who is hanging out with who unless they are in the middle of a raunchy frat party, seeing their love interest getting fucked against a dirty bathroom counter. 

            He smiles to himself as he finally catches up to you and allows you to stop dragging him around. He keeps pace with you now, resting his hand as if to allow you to let go, but you don't. 

“Just around that corner-” You said glancing over at him and noting the shade of color his face has become. “You okay?” 

            Mark nods, staying quiet and trying to force himself out of his thoughts. He glances down at your hand holding his and then back up at you on instinct. 

“Oh, sorry.” You say, releasing his hand and trying hard to understand that maybe you truly are too clingy with most people in your life. You think his reaction was kind of cute though, and now you’re a little determined to help him relax those stiffened shoulders. Mark can’t be as boring as he seems, right?

 ~

 “I have peanut butter and jelly, eggs, noodles, some leftover pizza and–”

“I’m not super hungry, but I could use some water?” Mark cuts you off, slipping off his shoes in an immaculate show of how clumsy he is. You can hear the clatter of your entire coat rack falling to the floor due to his weight leaning on it through that single task. 

“I’ll get you some water…” You trail off, noting how nervous he seems. He’s panicked, frantically trying to balance your coat rack back in place as if you hadn’t walked directly into him just the Friday before. 

“Calm down, it’s just a coat rack.” You laugh, hearing him mutter a sorry as he hangs one of your empty purses back onto it. 

“Thanks.” He says, reaching out for the class of water you began to extend out to him.

            Watching his eyes go from the glass of water to your apartment, you smile at the look on his face. Such a smart boy acting so incredibly stupid the moment he’s alone in an apartment with a girl. Cute.

“We can set up here?” You ask as if you’re offering a change of subject so that he doesn’t have to think about the coat rack he had just knocked over. You point over to your dining table that’s placed perfectly in a little nook against a window and look at him as he stands in place. “We can start whenever you’re ready?”

“Can you show me to the bathroom first?” Mark blurts, hyper-aware of his awkward demeanor. He needs to calm himself down. 

            Without issue, you point to the bathroom and Mark makes his way over to it in a show of not-so-confident body language. He seemed kind of cocky on Friday, but today he seems to be like jelly. 

            You sit at the dining table without thinking much more of the man in your bathroom, instead, you pull out some textbooks and lay them out on the table. 

 ~

             Mark stares at himself in the mirror, he can practically see the blood rushing to his cheeks and ears as he comes to terms with the fact that he probably shouldn’t have agreed to come to your apartment to study. You’re attractive. That alone was a reason in his head to avoid it, but he’s here and he’s already made a fool of himself. 

            He slaps his face a bit with some cold water and tries to will himself to stop acting like such an awkward idiot. Surely you’ll pick up on his inability to talk to women if he doesn’t get it together, right? You’re going to think he’s some weirdo, a pervert maybe, before throwing him out and avoiding him forever.

            Staring harder at himself, he waits for the color to run from his face so that way he can get out there and start the study session, but then his eyes start to wander. 

           Your bathroom is immaculately clean save for some makeup stains on the counter and a few stray hairs that must have been yanked out of your head while you attempted to brush out a night of drinking. It smells fresh and your perfectly hung towels look plush. Without a thought in his head, he leans towards the towel so that he can dry his face and hands, and that’s just what he does. Except, maybe he buries his face into the towel a bit longer than he needed to, and maybe the smell of it was so astronomically sweet that he nuzzled against it even more.

            He could tell the towel had been used at least once though, solely because he could smell a scent that wasn’t the soap on the counter. Then his eyes trail over to the actual hand towel, and then they trail a bit more to see a bra hanging on a hook.

            It dawns on him again. He’s in your apartment, smelling your towels, and staring at your bra. Coming to the bathroom in an attempt to calm down has done nothing more than make things worse, and the only option he has is to stumble out of the bathroom hoping you assume he was in there doing number two rather than planting his face into a towel where you dry off your naked body. 

            Praying to himself, Mark prepares to face you. Sure, you probably see nothing out of the norm if he does well and hides the fact that he’s hyper-sensitive just for being in your space, then again, Mark has never been the best at playing pretend.

 ~

             You offer him a bright smile once he finally makes his way back into your living space and seats himself at the table. He seems to be avoiding eye contact with you, bashfully pulling his own books out of his bag with shaking fingers. 

“Are you okay? Are you sure you’re not hungry?” You look at him, head tilting down in concern. 

            Mark finally looks at you and notes how comfortable you seem while he feels like he’s internally falling apart. There shouldn’t be any fucking issue in his head when it comes to this situation, but here he is, panicking because a pretty girl is in front of him. He feels so dumb, so obvious, so embarrassed… Maybe he should eat something, at least so he can buy some time to focus on something else before he starts stuttering through your studies. At this rate, all you’re going to learn about today is how awful Mark is around women. 

“Maybe I should eat, yeah–” He says in a small voice, still staring at the books as he places them on the table.

“Come look in my kitchen, we can eat something together?” You ask, reaching toward his hand. 

            He pulls back from your touch and tries to play it off casually like he was just reaching for a pen, but you didn’t miss the fact that his hands were cold.

            Taking note, it starts to dawn on you. You’ve dealt with men like him before, and it was always an interesting situation. To check your theory, you rise from the chair and lean over the table, being sure to squish whatever cleavage you have visible to make it more visible to him. 

“Salty or sweet?” You ask, watching his eyes intently and the way they struggle to leave your breasts. Score one for you, Mark is definitely a man above all. Luckily for him, you have lots of experience in that field, while he appears to have very little in the field of women. 

“Sweet…” He drones out, pulling his eyes away from you in an attempt to hide the way his cheeks immediately flushed. 

“Great, Let’s see what I’ve got!” You laugh, propping yourself back from the table and hopping into the kitchen, checking behind you to see if he follows.

            By the time you round the corner, he isn’t short to follow you. Peeping your head around the corner, you watch as he holds his hands in front of his groin, looks down at himself, and then lets out a deep sigh. You then watch as he adjusts himself in his pants, uncomfortably hiding a semi-hard on so that he could come into the kitchen without suspicion. 

            By this point, you’ve already decided that studying will very likely not be part of today’s schedule. He wouldn’t be able to focus on a damn thing like this, right? You should help him, right?

“Took you long enough.” You joke, turning to look at Mark and intentionally trailing your eyes down his body just to see if you can see any sort of bulge. He’s safe though because he apparently must have skills in hiding his arousal during the worst times. 

            Mark, on the other hand, can already tell that your shift in mood is intensely different compared to before he went to the bathroom. Twice now you’ve been blatant towards him and it is not helping him at all right now. Is he reading it wrong because he’s very obviously horny right now? Were you really trying to dangle your breasts in front of him like that? Are you really checking him out right now? 

“Sorry, I dropped something.” He offers as an excuse as to why it took him so long to follow you, uncomfortably trying to shift from your view and avoid eye contact. 

“Sure.” You say with a roll of your eyes, knowing full well that he was hiding his cock. “ You said you wanted something sweet, right?” You change the subject, reaching out and running your fingers down his arm. 

            He swallows hard, stiffening his shoulders and nodding to you. Without hesitation, you let your fingers stay against him for a few seconds longer, keeping eye contact with him before turning and opening a cupboard. 

“Peanut butter crackers, cereal, and oatmeal.” You deadpan, slamming the cupboard and stepping to the fridge. “Pudding.” Then you open the freezer. “Popsicles, and ice cream.”

            Mark just stands there when you close the doors to the fridge and look at him in question. He could opt for the crackers but his throat is already dry. Cereal could work but that would be embarrassing, for some reason. Oatmeal is an option, solely for how disgusting it looks, surely it would tame his boner. But, popsicles. No.

“Grab whatever you want, I'm eating a popsicle.” You say, raising a brow and throwing open the freezer door again to take your pick.

            Of course, it was intentional. It’s fun to see his eyes light up at the very idea of seeing you eat a popsicle, and even more fun to imagine how flustered he’s going to be in mere minutes.

            Mark looks to the floor and heads towards your fridge, also opting for a popsicle, probably so you didn’t think he was such a pervert, but more so because if you truly are trying to come onto him right now, at least his lips will taste sweet.

 ~

             You had expected Mark to get flustered, and boy did he. What you didn’t expect though, was to become flustered yourself by the image of Mark’s tongue darting over sweet ice, and then over his own lips to suck up the melted and sticky juice. The only image in your head right now is the idea of if he would lick his lips like that if you were to spread your legs for him. Would he lick up your mess on his face, chasing the flavor the same way he’s doing right now?

            A dull ache begins to spread throughout your body as you watch him. His eyes still avoid you but you still manage to catch him a few times. Each time he makes eye contact with you, your gaze shoots to his lap just to see if he’s gotten hard enough for his cock to leave its tucked position into his waistband. 

            Mark is hyper-aware now, with the way you’re staring and almost leaving your popsicle unattended as he eats his own. He feels confused, but over the moon nonetheless. 

            By the time the popsicles are finished, your fingers are sticky from allowing it to drip down the stick. You make a point to suck each of your fingers innocently, looking under your lashes at him for split seconds as you begin to shuffle through the papers on the table. 

“So,” You say, popping one finger out of your mouth and inserting another. “Can we start here? I need to have a paper written on at least one topic on this list and have no idea how to find a good source to read from.”

            Mark hears and sees you in tunnel vision right now, but he manages to catch the ass end of your sentence and begins to try and focus on the studies at hand. Still watching you suck your fingers into your mouth, he clears his throat and places his own popsicle stick onto the table. “I wrote mine based on this topic, and I found a lot of good sources for it. I don’t think our professor would think too hard about us choosing the same subject–” 

“Yeah, especially because it’s me. They’d never guess you’re in my apartment right now.” You laugh, smirking over at him. 

“I would’ve never guessed either–” Mark says without thinking, barely processing how embarrassing he is before you squint at him with a wider smile. 

“Oh yeah?” You ask, raising a brow and leaning forward. “Why’s that?” 

            Mark tries to look around but now can’t seem to force his eyes away from you. A much different circumstance compared to before when he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. There’s a connection here, he can feel it. You’re definitely coming onto him and you have been for the past however long he’s been here.

“You’re kind of out of my league, y’know?” He laughs more at himself than he does the situation, and to you, he honestly looks pitiful after saying that. It’s incredibly attractive to you in the way he seems to praise you for being a failure simply because he’s attracted to you. At least, that’s the case if you’re reading him right.

“Who said someone like you couldn’t teach me a thing or two?” You have a smile in your voice, and it comforts him, but that comfort is shot down when you stand to your feet and walk over to him. “Who says I’m out of your league?” You ask again, watching him scoot back with his chair as you come closer.

            You prop yourself against the table, essentially blocking him from his books and papers. You look down at him now, dipping your head in a playful way. “I don’t think I’m out of your league.” 

            Mark notes how you’re between him and the table now. You look comfortable leaning in front of him like this, and when his eyes trail up to your face all his body can do is give in. He looks at you through large eyes, the overhead light is sparkling through them at you. 

            In that instant, you can see his embarrassment fill his body because he’s no longer resisting the urge to be himself. He’s staring at you as if you could be a god and saying nothing in response to your words. 

“If anything, Mark–” You soothe him, grabbing one of his hands and smiling at the way his pen immediately falls out of his grip. “You’re out of my league.” 

            He blinks up at you, soaking in the words and not yet understanding in full what you’re doing until he feels warmth envelope the entirety of his hand and wrist. 

“Do you know how lucky I am that you’re here right now?” You ask him, basking in the way you can see his breath get caught in his throat. “How lucky I am that you’re not only smart but, hot too?”

            He dips his head at this, a bashful show of your words having an impact on him. He hides his face briefly against his arm and then he realizes–

“Is this okay?” You ask, holding his hand in place as you begin to move your hips against his palm.

            Mark watches the way you’ve managed to pull his hand out and plant it between your legs, all so you could grind against it without so much as a warning. He’s not against it though, if anything, his head is shot back to reality and he’s immediately back to glancing around the room and avoiding the scene in front of him.

            His palm is against your dampening panties and all he can think to say right now is, “You could write your thesis on human connection and its effects on the brain.” 

            You smile at his attempt of continuing to study through this moment.

“I could,” You say with a hoarser voice than before, feeling the way his hand stays relaxed in your grasp as you grind against it. “Or we could think about how your brain is being affected right now?”

            Mark groans, feeling the warmth of your wet beginning to seep through the fabric, and honestly, it is happening so fast that he’s sure it would be more embarrassing if he walked out now. 

“How are you feeling?” You reword your question towards him, intentionally swiveling your hips so that you can position his fingers into your underwear. 

“You’re warm.” Mark chokes out, eyes now zoning in on your core in front of him as he sits. 

            You let out a small laugh at this, pulling a bit on his arm to pull him closer, but he doesn’t compute it at all. 

“Do you like it?” You ask again, this time slipping his fingers into you. You let out a deep sigh and let your eyes roll back, fucking yourself gently against his fingers before you open your eyes again to look at him. 

            He’s nodding, probably more thankful now that you’d worn a skirt today rather than pants. He didn’t allow himself to take note of your attire, because if he did, he would have made even more of a fool of himself. But he’s nodding now, watching the way you hold his arm in place and slide his fingers in and out of you. 

            His silence is louder than his words could be right now, you think. You can feel him straighten his fingers inside of you, you can practically see him salivate at the very idea of how you’re using him right now. You’re not done though, no no. He’s far too cute like this, but you want to hear words.

            Gently, you pull your hips back effectively slipping his fingers out of you. There, you lift his arm and examine your wetness against his fingers. You smile again, eyes now adjusting to his face rather than his wet fingers in front of him. 

            Mark watches as you guide his fingers to his lip, and without a second thought, he opens his mouth to taste you against them. He licks circles around each of the two fingers, closing his eyes almost instantly so that he could relish the experience.

“Do you like the taste too?” You ask, releasing his hand and watching how he continues to suck his fingers. 

“Yeah–” Mark groans with his closed mouth around the digits, making damn sure to suck every bit off of him. 

“You’re pretty, you know that?” You compliment him this time, tearing your eyes from him and slipping your panties down your legs. You turn yourself over so that you’re now bent over the table and you ignore the corner of one of the textbooks poking against your ribs, all in favor of what sound Mark will make when he opens his eyes. 

“You can lick it for real then.” You comment, lifting to look behind you at the way his fingers drop from his mouth and his eyes immediately zone in on your bare pussy displayed for him under your hiked-up skirt. 

            He does let out a whimper, one that seemed entirely desperate to do just that for you but he doesn’t move. He just stares, soaking in the words you’re saying, memorizing each fold and dip in your pussy–

            You don’t intend to wait though. Reaching behind you, you grab the back of his head by his hair and guide his face to you. The way you can hear his chair tip over as he falls to his knees makes you quiver a bit before him, and you’re almost surprised to not just feel a face against you. It appears that Mark instantly jumped into action when your fingers laced into his locks. 

           You can feel his tongue exploring and his other hand reaching to lift your skirt entirely over your ass. His tongue is soft, warm, wet, and so entirely eager to lick and suck every inch of your core. It’s not until he starts allowing his moans to vibrate into your flesh that you hike one of your legs up and open your pussy against his working tongue for easy access.

            Guiding him by his hair, you press his face harshly into your pussy with little to no fight for air from him, and you’re loving it. Loving the way he whines for more when his tongue reaches the furthest limit of your folds, loving even more when he finally reaches his hands up to your pussy and spreads it out more for himself. 

            He isn’t even thinking at this moment, just tasting and feeling you guide his tongue as if this is what you wanted all along. The thought alone of someone like you wanting to fuck his tongue like this sets his cock on fire in so many ways. He’s so hard right now that it hurts to think about it at all. Mark doesn’t give a single fuck about how pathetic he must sound to you right now, whimpering and panting against you as if this was the only sweet thing in your apartment he wanted to eat anyway. 

            You hear a clatter to the floor, knowing for a fact that he’s knocked his glasses off of his face from the angle in which he skewed his neck in order to fuck his tongue into you now. You wonder what’s going through his mind, because god damn he’s eating you out like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. He’s impressively messy and loud with it too, making you feel as if you must taste like the sweetest thing on earth to him. 

            For some reason, thinking back to all of the non-sexual situations you’d passively seen Mark in turns you on even more. The big-brained student who is constantly making straight As and never going out to parties eats pussy like this? Eats your pussy like this? Better than half of the men you’d already been with? Mark doesn’t miss a single centimeter of it, and you can tell he’s focusing on you more than he has ever focused on his homework or studies before. 

            You feel so incredibly wanted in this moment by Mark that all you can do is let out a desperate moan for him. One so that he knows he’s not the only one utterly stunned by the turn of events, but also because you’re fucking loving what he’s doing to you.

            With each moan, Mark picks up his pace, gripping your folds and spreading them out impossibly wide just so he can bury himself in the slippery wet heat. He’s spreading you apart so well that it almost pains you to move without the fear of being torn open by his tongue alone. Your clit has barely even been reached but he still managed to make you feel sensitive to the point of wanting to beat your fists on the table out of sheer frustration for not approaching him sooner. 

            Not only can he help you pass your classes, but he surely could make you feel like a fucking queen on top of it all, licking you up and down as if he were born and trained for you and you alone.

“You’re so–” You groan out, releasing his hair from your grip but pressing your ass out more so that you can feel him slip his tongue back to your clit with impossible reach. He continues that, sliding his tongue from your clit to your entrance, dipping in and swirling the muscle before going back to your clit. All while he’s moaning, groaning, and panting against you. 

            It’s too much, he’s so incredibly eager that you’re honestly too sensitive to let him keep going, so you pull your hips forward and lift from the table. Your legs are shaking when you do this, and shaking even more when you turn to face him and lean against the table again. 

“How–” You look down at him in surprise, watching him lick his lips much like you hoped he would. “How are you so good at this?” 

            Mark is stunned by your question because in all fairness, he’s never gotten to eat a girl out before. He wasn’t really thinking about what to do, or how to do it, he was just obsessed with the taste and smell of you to the point of going absolutely fucking feral at the mere chance. 

“I’ve–never done it before.” He shamefully admits, nonchalantly moving his hands to his pants and unbuttoning them. Not to fuck you or anything, mostly just to release his cock from the chokehold of the denim rubbing against him. 

“You’re lying.” You deadpan, running your hand between your legs and quivering the moment your fingers run over your swollen clit. “There’s no way you haven’t done that before.” You gasp, looking at him as if no other man existed. 

            He shakes his head, looking up at you from the floor with innocent eyes. His lips are wet, his eyes are hooded, his hair sticking up from your fingers guiding him– it’s a lot to see him like this when you’ve only ever seen him as that goody-two-shoes student who doesn’t know how to have fun. Clearly, Mark knows how to have fun.

            Your gaze on him makes him bashful as he looks down to the floor, feeling embarrassed that you’re praising a complete amateur at this. 

            Using your leg, you nudge him, and you spread your legs. “You did all of that and didn’t even touch yourself?” You ask in curiosity, noting how he had only just now undone his pants to relieve pressure. “Let me see it.” You say again, almost demanding as you hop up on the table and spread your legs even more.

            Frantic at your tone of voice, Mark stumbles to his feet and pushes his pants down to his thighs. His cock springs out and stands erect in front of you. You could stare all day, honestly. Mark, of all people? He’s the one with a cock this big? He’s the one with a cock that could make you feel as if you’re being split in half. Fuck.

“God.” You comment, mouth falling open at the way it twitches in mid-air. “All of the girls would be fucking swooning, Mark.” You get a bit flustered yourself now because only now do you understand who you just seduced and what he’s got to offer outside of brains. 

            In all of his shyness, Mark hides his face from you again despite his cock out in all of its glory. Your mouth could honestly start watering if he hadn’t just eaten you out to the point of needing him to stop. 

            Without another thought, you pull your shirt and bra off all in one go. No way in hell is he leaving without fucking you stupid with a cock like that. Absolutely no fucking way would you let this go to waste.

“When’s the last time you’ve done anything with a girl?” You ask, reaching for his arm and pulling his gaze back towards you, now almost completely naked save for your skirt hiked up to your waist. 

            Mark stares at you again, much like he did when you spread your legs in front of him for the first time, this time zoning in on the way your nipples are erect and begging for his mouth to be put to use again. He nearly forgets that you’re talking to him because of the way you’ve presented yourself. The reality is right in front of his face, but he still wonders if this must be a dream.

“I– right out of high school before she broke up with me,” He says in a lazy voice, slightly raspy. It sounds as if it doesn’t even matter to him because he is so focused on you in front of him. “I’ve only had sex one time.”

“Aw,” You pitifully look at him. “What a waste, you’re such a pretty boy.” You coo, wiggling your hips as if to entice his cock to make its way towards you. “You’ve got the brains and the cock for it. You must feel so neglected.”

            All he does is nod, because yes. He does feel fucking neglected, partly because he let it happen and mostly because he knows he doesn’t know how to talk to girls. Right now, Mark could genuinely start crying if you keep talking to him like this. He can’t tell if you’re mocking him or being genuine, but the only thing he wants to do right now is bury his cock so deeply inside of you that all you can do is moan out mantras of how pretty he is, how much time has been wasted without his cock inside of you, how badly you’d want him again and again after this. 

            You can see his facial expressions change every few seconds and your body is yearning to be filled. With the way he is looking at you, there’s no way he doesn’t want to.

“Do you want to fuck me, Baby?” You ask, realizing that you much prefer calling him intimate names rather than his own because he seems to lean directly into it. 

“Yeah,” He sighs out, hanging his head to look at the way his cock still stands painfully erect throughout the conversation. “Can I?” He asks now, making pleading eye contact with you.

            You reach out for him, grabbing his waist and pressing his cock directly against your core. You lean your head back a bit to look at him and the way his eyes sear straight through your own. His pupils are darkened, his cheeks are red, and his lips are glistening– You lick against his lips, and the way he immediately starts to kiss you makes you think he’s a liar. He knows exactly what he’s doing with his mouth regardless of where it is. His tongue presses into your mouth so beautifully that you genuinely could argue that this man has only ever had sex one time. Maybe he’s a natural? 

            Mark knows exactly when to grind his cock between your folds, knows exactly when to pull back to kiss your neck, and knows exactly how to lean you back with his hand protecting the back of your head so that it doesn’t slam against the table. 

            He slips his cock between your folds so beautifully as he trails his kisses to your breasts, suckling gently against one of your nipples before he nearly can’t stand it anymore. 

           With ease, Mark grabs his cock and presses it directly into you. He isn’t slow or gentle with it. You can feel how eager he is when the moment the head of his cock enters you, he’s slamming in just to feel the way your pussy grips around him to adjust.

            He’s lost himself in the moment, and you’re loving it. Loving the way his tongue picks up against your nipples, and the way there is no rhythm or rhyme to his thrusts. His size alone is enough for you, and you can admit to loving every single push and pull his body is offering.

            The room is silent save for his whimpers, your gasps, and the wet sound of skin slapping against skin. You’re quick to wrap a leg around his waist so that when he presses in again, you can force him to stay in place so that he can genuinely feel what it’s like to have a pussy clenching around a cock so big.

“Can you feel it?” You groan out, feeling his teeth pinch against your nipple and sending a sharp pain down your body. 

            He nods frantically, pulling your nipple with his lips as he does it. You can tell he’s drooling, wetting your chest in such an embarrassing way, but he’s so–Mark. He’s Mark. This is Mark.

            You watch his face and the way he winces with each pulse of your pussy quivering around the sheer size of him, and you coo out at him when his cock twitches in response. 

“I can’t believe this is only your second time, Pretty Boy.” You sing out. “You’re so good, so-”

“I can’t–” Mark whimpers out, beginning to move his hips again, this time at a quicker pace. His mouth falls open against your breast and his hands shoot to your waist as he pulls himself up and opens his eyes. He watches the way your wet coats his cock as he slides in and out of you, fingers pressing so hard into your hips that you feel he could be bruising you. 

            You’re so in awe of him losing complete control that you want nothing more than to cum with him inside of you. You quickly reach your hand down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive spot almost to the point that you could start crying out at how painful it truly is at this moment. You’ve never been this sensitive for a man, and yet, you’re coming undone beneath him and nearly losing as much control as he has. 

           A mess of moans and groans are filling the room as Mark chases his high, and you are at the point that you want to say the nicest and dirtiest things to him out of sheer arousal. So you do, you talk, and you talk. Whispers of “Can’t believe you fuck this good”, turn to screams of, “Baby, right there, just like that.”    

         It wasn’t until you moaned out, “Make a mess for me, cum with me.” 

Mark’s hips stuttered and his eyes closed tightly in a frustrated groan. “Stop–” He grunts, hips pressing into you impossibly hard. To the point that you scooted up on the table. “Stop, I’m-” He groans again, attempting to pull out so that he could release against your pulsing and empty pussy, but you don’t let him.

            Your legs hold him in place as you release your clit and pull yourself up on your arms just to grab against his neck and pull him down with you against the table. 

“Make a mess of me.” You say in a half moan, holding his face so that he can’t look away from you.

            You watch the way his pupils dilate, you feel the way his cock twitches inside of you, and then his eyes roll back. 

            Mark’s eyebrows fall much like his mouth does when he comes inside of you. His hips are frantic but his face looks calm, and not a single sound releases from his lips. You’re very quick to begin rubbing your clit again, and the pressure of his abdomen pressing against your hand as you do it sends you over the edge, effectively allowing your orgasm to hit you harder than a fucking freight train. 

            You grab onto him harshly, without a thought in your head besides kissing him. He kisses you back, realizing that despite having sex before, this may be the first time he’s ever made a girl cum. It’s certainly the first time he’s ever felt his cock being tugged by the walls of a pussy as it works itself through an orgasm.

            He can’t stop coming, lasting entirely far too long and far past sensitivity. Mark opens his eyes to look at you when you’re coming around him, all while he’s coming inside of you. Your voice is beautifully raspy, and the way you hold onto him makes him feel like you should never let go. 

            Upon his ears popping and feeling the mess between the two of you, Mark pulls back and notes that the hem of his shirt is absolutely fucking soaked. In an attempt to take a small step back in order to remove himself from you, he nearly trips over his pants that had fallen to his ankles.

“Oh.” You laugh, wincing as you feel his cock leave you empty. “Probably should have undressed you.”

            Mark steps out of his pants and just kind of stands there awkwardly, watching the cum spill from you. Then panic spreads across his face. 

“Um,” He croaks out, voice cracking almost immediately. “I- I didn’t pull out…”

“I didn’t want you to.” You soothe him, noting how he’s right back to his awkward and shy persona the moment he’s finished fucking you. “I’m on birth control.” You confirm for him, just to see the relief replace that panic.

 ~

 “So…” You comment, looking down at the wrinkled papers in front of you. “You really expect me to try and write at least 1200 words tonight?” 

            Mark tilts his head at you, sitting with a blanket covering his entire body as his clothes go through the cycles of a wash. “If we hadn’t gotten off track, you could already be almost done with it.” 

“God, you are such a fucking bore.” You laugh, shivering at the cold air hitting your bare skin. “I’m literally naked and you’re not even making a move.” 

“Finish your paper and we can talk about that.” He shoots back, not afraid to sound the slightest bit cocky at this moment. 

            In his defense, it does work. Promising you any amount of him after what happened was enough to force your focus on your school work. Just because he did it once doesn’t mean he will always want to fuck stupid girls. If anything, Mark deserves someone who respects his work ethic and need to help others right? The huge cock is just a bonus when you think about it.

            You know it’s going to be a hell of a month after tonight, but for the most part, you think that studying with Mark may have been your best college decision to date. You can learn a lot from him, and apparently... he can learn from you too. You just hope he doesn’t run off and use that knowledge on other girls once he realizes he’s definitely got the ability to break hearts. 

~

#neohub #mark smut #nct smut #mark lee smut #nct-writers #nct fic #mark fic #mark lee fic #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut

[dabisqueen]

College Touya x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: roughly 11K

⇢ plot: getting into one of the most prestigious universities comes with a (literally) huge surprise

⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, lots of dialogue, bantering and bickering, use of alcohol, Keigo is being a spoiled rich brat so he's not getting any ass but Tenko is finally getting his d*** wet and Touya as well, a bit of yelling, some kabedon action, steamy kissing, dry-humping, unprotected consensual sex, multiple orgasms, creampie

⇢ personal note: this was just another AU I was dreaming about. First time writing this kind of trope. Thanks to @/dreamy-collective for being my beta!

***

Moving away from home and starting your first year at a university was a challenging act on its own. So it was given that you were busy trying to adapt to the new college life, learning the campus layout, and establishing a daily routine. In other words– beginning to experience life as a university student.

But not only that. The university you had managed to get into was one of the most prestigious ones in the country and with the priciness of its tuition, you were glad to have landed several scholarships that needed extra effort.

Therefore, starting classes not only meant trying to cope with the pretty busy schedule change but also putting in your highest effort to keep your grades among the best. So you barely spent time socializing with people in the tight-knit community of the college campus. And a week into the semester, you still hadn't made any real friends yet, except for your roommate. 

Still, even though you didn't belong to the social circles on campus and you never cared for gossiping, certain rumors spread so far that even you heard them. About these three guys, all seniors belonging to the privileged elite of the university, stirring quite the fuss– especially the raven-haired and the blond one. 

It was the second week and your roommate and you were approaching the main entrance to your college building, ready to go to classes. But you stopped dead in your tracks, an all too familiar sight ahead of you. For a moment you questioned reality, having not seen him in almost a decade. 

"What's he doing here?" You asked, stunned. 

Of all places in the country you had to meet him here. Life has its shitty ways of fucking with you.

"Who?" Your roommate asked, her gaze following yours to some guys standing across the yard by the wall, smoking.

Staring straight ahead, you would've recognized him anywhere– hands lazily stuffed in the pockets of his dark ripped jeans, the usual bored expression on his face. That all too familiar mop of raven hair with bangs falling over his brows, those broad shoulders—

—and those incredibly piercing blue eyes that just now flicked up to look at you.

Shit, you tried to calm yourself, No need to panic. He won't recognize you after all these years.

But that hope was thrown out the door as quickly as it arose when he aimed a wickedly seductive grin right at you, his strikingly blue eyes continuing to observe you.

Damn, he knows.

"Ok, we gotta go. Now!" You swung around and swiveled around your roommate who struggled to catch up with you. "We're gonna take the back entrance."

"Hey, what was that just now?" She breathlessly asked.

"Nothing." You grumbled, reluctant to get as much distance between you and those mesmerizing blue eyes.

"Oh, don't you dare nothing me!" She took a few wider steps to catch up with you. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You might be right about that," you muttered under your breath. "Let's go, we'll be late for classes."

***

A sound stirred you from your work assignment late at night. "You're not telling me something."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Looking up, you saw your roommate standing at the door of your bedroom.

She cocked an eyebrow, kicked off the door frame, and walked towards you.

"The raven-haired guy. This morning." She continued, "I saw him looking at you– and then you freaked out."

Oh no.

"It's Touya Todoroki." She stopped in front of you, placing her hands on her canted hips, "The hottest guy on campus, according to what I've heard."

"Don't know what you're talking about." You mumbled, the tips of your ears turning scarlet as you kept yourself busy counting the dust specs on the screen of your notebook.

"C'mon! I know you're hiding something," she sat down next to you, batting her pretty, long lashes at you. "You've got to tell me."

Inhaling deeply, you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to calm your tired and overworked nerves.

"Alright." You sighed. "But this stays between us ok?"

"Pinkie swear!" She beamed at you, offering her smallest finger and you locked it with yours.

"Touya and his buddies Tenko, and Keigo—we used to be childhood friends. We grew up together living in the same neighborhood." You pulled your hand back and tugged a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. "We also went to the same elementary school."

"Aw, that's so cool!" She giggled, urging you to continue. 

"Yeah, really sweet–" you huffed and looked straight at her. "Did you know he calls me Cheeks?"

"No—but that's adorable!" She smiled.

"You know what it stands for?" Cocking a brow you waited.

She shook her head.

"Buttcheeks." You inhaled deeply before continuing. "In second grade, he pulled my pants down in front of everyone - even the teachers. I was the laughingstock of the entire school for weeks."

"Oh sorry," Your roommate was visibly afflicted. "That's not so adorable."

You continued, picking up a few pieces of lint off your pants. "A year later, my parents and I had to move away to another state. That's when I saw him last."

"Mhhh, maybe he was a jerk back then," she pointed out, "But did you ever think about him having changed?"

"Nope. People like him don't change." You added bitterly. "I need to focus on my studies now, ok?"

"Yeah, sure." She sighed.

And with that, you ended the conversation, your roommate straightening up to return to her room and leaving you to finish your essay.

***

As you were leaving your classroom, you stopped dead in your tracks seeing Touya with Keigo and Tenko, leaning his back against the building wall, observing you, hands buried deep in the pocket of his pants. 

Touya just rocked the hottest-guy-on-campus look. Even though his frame was lean, he was well-toned, his body reeking of masculinity. He was wearing a plain black long-sleeve shirt, tight black pants, biker boots, and rings on his hand as well as piercings in his ear. 

But it wasn't just his physique. His presence alone took up space and dominated like nothing else and you had to take a few moments to catch your breath. A few moments that were over too quickly when he started to strut over into your direction, his eyes strikingly light blue.

You instantly turned to make an escape, but at that same moment a door to a lecture room opened and a crowd of students poured out, crushing your plans to get away.

"Well well well, if it ain't Cheeks," an arm slung around your neck. "Of all places, I've never expected to run into you here."

The subtle scent of expensive cologne surrounded you and his own scent, warm and masculine at the same time. He smelled amazing, and it left a feeling in you that you couldn’t place your finger on.

Shit.

"Fuck off, Touya…" you mumbled, a bit of color rising to your face.

"Why so rude?" He chuckled and leaned in closer. 

A group of students had stopped to watch the two of you talk, chattering behind raised hands.

"What are you doing here?" You tried to get away from him but his embrace was too tight. 

"Could ask you the same." He hummed back with a curious grin on his face.

"I'm enrolled in classes, duh." You remarked, trying to keep your tone flat.

"Heh, I'm a Senior." His free hand came to pinch your cheek.

"Did your dad bribe the University Board to get you in?" You looked sideways at him, shamefully breathless at his close proximity. 

His eyes seemed so captivating—more than they used to when he was a kid.

"Naah— got in here myself." He grinned, icy blue eyes flashing. "Excellent grades."

"Doubt it." You hissed at him.

"You're hurting my feelings, Cheeks." He gave you a light chuckle that you felt way too much in your chest.

Rolling your eyes at him, you finally managed to shrug his arm off as he loosened his hold on you—when you heard another voice closing in. "Hey, Touya, who's that Hottie here?"

It was Keigo, narrower and shorter in build than Touya, with windstrewn ash blond hair swept messily backward. He was blatantly showing off his wealth, wearing luxury label clothes, and sporting a huge Breitling aviator watch on his wrist. 

"Don't you recognize her?" Touya glanced at him over his shoulder.

The blonde looked at you with a slight arch in his eyebrow. Then his golden eyes lit up in surprise. "Shit, it's Cheeks!"

"Damn, it is," Tenko muttered, who just joined the three of you. With the long tangled hair and the simple, black hoodie pulled over his head, he seemed more innocent than the other two, which was a welcoming change. The only thing giving him away was the rather geeky expensive Devon Star Wars watch at his wrist.

His cheeks reddened behind his pale bangs when your eyes met and he muttered a shy, "H-Hi Cheeks…" before averting his gaze, awkwardly scratching his nape with his fingers.

Keigo however, stepped even closer, his golden brown eyes mustering you as he leaned in, flirtatiously. "So—you got a boyfriend?"

"Nice move, but– no." You groaned. "Not interested in one as well."

Just as Keigo was about to say something Tenko interrupted, looking at his watch. "Guys, we need to go now if we wanna get to class in time." 

"Yeah, we're coming." Touya looked at you with an amused glint in his azure eyes before turning to leave.

"See ya, Cheeks." He waved goodbye as they strolled off.

You couldn't help but follow him with your eyes, when suddenly Touya stopped to toss you a look over his shoulder, grinning when he caught you staring, before continuing on his path.

Shit, you felt your cheeks burn. Shit, shit, shit.

Your roommate, who had stood off to the side unbeknownst to you now stepped close, letting out a deep sigh, "Sorry, didn't want to interrupt. But damn, are you lucky."

You bit your lips as you continued to watch him. "Jerk. I hate him."

"Oh, are you sure? You blushed there quite a bit, I'd say." She sheepishly added.

"Thin ice, girl." You pursed your lips at her, "Very thin ice."

She only giggled in response.

"I would give everything to be fucked by that guy." She gazed at where he was walking off with Keigo and Tenko. "C'mon, just look at him!"

You leveled her with a flat look and folded your arms under your chest. She sighed. 

"Girl, he's rich!" She wiggled her hand in his direction, "His dad is fucking loaded!"

"I don't care about all that, you know me" you commented nonchalantly.

"But—I heard he's even going to graduate summa cum laude."  Her eyes became dreamy, "If you land with him, you hit the jackpot."

"Oh, s'that so?" You picked up your bag. "You can have him. I'm not interested"

"You should be. I heard he also fucks like a God."

"Good thing I'm an atheist then." You winked at her and turned to walk away, trying to ignore the wet stickiness in your panties that wasn't there before.

***

The following weeks were absolute torment. Even though Touya was a senior and the paths you crossed were rare, he was constantly around, repeatedly seeking you out in the crowd, his little naughty grins always catching you off guard and making your face heat up. He was smooth, you had to admit, and surprisingly persistent– despite your constant rebuffs.

So it wasn’t long until your name unwantedly became the talk on campus. People were staring at you, muttering behind your back, wondering who that normal girl was that managed to get Touya Todoroki's attention. You weren't used to the looks that everyone was giving you, and felt utterly uncomfortable.

Whenever possible, you avoided large groups of people while on campus. Still, it was unavoidable that some girls' stares always followed you, their whispers behind raised hands a constant backdrop in your head.

It was frustrating, in more ways than one. Because even though you tried to deny it, you started catching yourself having constant thoughts about Touya. And they weren't exactly innocent ones. Whenever you saw him from afar, your chest tightened and your heart thundered a thousand miles a minute. You couldn't shrug off this feeling of wanting to be close to him, to hear his sultry voice, and to run your hands through his raven hair. 

Albeit your own feelings – or rather to deny them – you dedicated yourself to your studies for the next few weeks. So it was no surprise that when midterms came around, your relentless studying paid off, walking out of classes with the highest grades of all.

***

It was late spring and a sudden heat wave had hit your area, making everything unbearably sticky and gross. You opted for a midday walk as some sort of a stress reliever when you heard steps approaching and a familiar voice saying "Hi Cheeks–"

Touya came to a stop right in front of you, dressed in a short sleeve shirt. Intricate black and blue flame tattoos decorated both his arms, complementing his natural looks perfectly. 

After reaching inside the pocket of his jeans, he took a cigarette out of the box he had retrieved, and placed it between his lips. He lit it up, a cloud of smoke billowing up in the air as he exhaled deeply. His smoldering turquoise eyes dragged up your body and stopped at your lips.

"Wanna go eat something, Cheeks?" His gaze continued to linger on your lips.

"Sorry, I think I just lost my appetite." You deadpanned.

"Cmon–" He tilted up his chin, looking at you, smirking.

"Touya, I'm not interested."

"But I'm hungry…" And his eyes flicked back to your lips. 

"Go eat alone then." You mumbled.

Looking up at him, you noticed his rapturous looks, something wicked and flirtatious flickering behind the azure hue of his eyes. Your stomach somersaulted and you knew it was lust in his heavy-lidded eyes when your gazes locked.

"I'm not hungry for food, Cheeks—" his voice was husky, successfully making your spine tingle. 

"Oh for God's sake," you tried to swat his chest but he dodged gracefully, a playful smile on his face, taking another drag of the cigarette he was holding between his fingers.

You couldn't help but stare at his sinfully seductive lips, the way they urged to be kissed—

Okay, let’s not go there, you mentally slapped yourself.

But you were caught already as he observed the way your cheek reddened and cocked his head, eyebrows raised. “Bet you're thinking about me right now, Cheeks.”

"Excuse me?" You lied, the spreading blush reaching your ears, “F-Fuck off Touya!"

You felt like you were seconds away from exploding, with your heart rate blasting through the roof. 

"I think I'm making you nervous." He grinned, 

"God, you're so full of yourself–" you started.

Luckily a high smooth voice interrupted your little bantering. 

"Hey Toto, been looking everywhere for you!" a stunning girl approached.

Touya didn’t even pay a glance as she got close to him, manicured fingers trailing up his arm.

"Missed you, baby" she pouted her plush lips at him, "Why haven't you answered any of my calls?"

Touya sneered, his usual bored expression back on his face, "Should be self-explanatory."

He placed his cigarette between his lips again, sucking in his cheeks, his hooded gaze not leaving yours. 

The girl was stunned by his rude reply but then seemed to brush it off. Moving her face close to his, she purred, “What’s with the attitude, baby?"

"Told you, I have other plans..." Ignoring her completely, his eyes continued to be trained on you as smoke billowed around his face.

Even though he was clearly not interested in that girl, it still left a pinch of bitterness in your heart. You felt disappointed. You'd heard that he had gotten around quite a bit– but seeing the girl just being so much better looking than you made you feel so inferior, so ugly, so—

—you had to get out of here. Now.

"I think you should satisfy your hunger with her," you pointed out and before he could reply, you shouldered your bag and left down the path to the library.

You heard Touya call after you but then the high-pitched voice of the girl interrupted, followed by rough cussing on his behalf before you could get out of earshot.

Serves him right.

***

This irritating, depressing sting of jealousy had been gnawing away at your heart ever since the scene outside with the girl and left you almost sleepless at night. Let's face it, you weren't exactly a virgin anymore either. But your experience had been rather—bleak, to put it nicely. With some random guy. For a whooping ten seconds. Leaving you beyond unsatisfied.

But Touya– he must have been in bed with so many girls, must have gathered so much experience that the thought alone made the bile of jealousy rise in your stomach. And as it was apparent to you, all the girls he had were all pretty and perfect and you couldn't help but feel inferior to them. And you hated yourself for thinking this way.

But that wasn't the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied– no. You couldn't quite shrug off the idea that – even though he served her off, or maybe just because of that – each girl was just a joke for him. As were you.

You had just finished your last lecture for today and, grabbing your iPad from the counter you winced, a stinging pain shooting through the tip of your finger. You pinched it between your thumb and index finger, seeing a splinter stuck in it. You knew you had to wait till later to get it out with tweezers at home.

You sighed as you exited your classroom ready to head outside—when you felt a soft hoodie sleeve slide along your neck as an arm draped around your shoulder, the subtle scent of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke starting to engulf you.

It was familiar, comforting—

—and yet still so unwelcomed.

"There you are, Cheeks, missed ya." Touya's low, sultry voice close to your ear sent instant shivers up your spine. 

Your step faltered and you spun around only for another arm to coil around your waste. Dragging your gaze from his chest up to his face you instantly shrunk beneath the intensity of his stunning blue eyes. Your mouth opened but nothing came out, too struck by how inexcusably handsome he looked up this close.

"That really hurts, huh?" He said with his husky voice, looking down at your finger.

"Let go of me, Touya" you shivered under his touch and tried to shake off his arm.

His eyes never left yours as his hand wrapped around your hurt one, bringing it close to his face. Breathlessly, you watched as he latched his lips around your fingertip and flicked his tongue over the wound before starting to suck.

You inhaled sharply, as a piercing pain shot through your finger, his eyes heavily lidded with lust and desire when you locked gazes.

Shit.

Suddenly, the pain was gone and he released your finger. He stuck out his tongue, the splinter sitting on its tip. He turned his head to spit it away and let go of you, smoothing his hair back. He watched with an amused grin while your cheeks went slowly ablaze.

"D-Don't do that, Touya," you stuttered.

He leaned close, propping himself against the wall next to you. There was that smirk again— the one that made your heart skip a bear. His hand came up to tug a strand of hair behind your ear and his light warm touch had your stomach flutter.

"Don't do what?" He cooed.

"D-Dont touch me." Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. 

Damn.

You hated it. You hated how he made you feel inside, how he made your body react to him. You felt heat rising inside of you again and your resentment towards him increased.

“I'd say you like my touch,” he smirked a bit wider seeing the rosy blush spread on your face. "It's more than obvious."

“You wish,” you retorted, shifting to the side, further away from him.

"And I need to go now, I need to work on my scholarship project." You mumbled as Touya watched on with his lazily lidded eyes.

As you took a step away from him, you felt him hold you back by your arm.

"Wait!" He called out and you stopped, staring straight ahead.

“Listen, Cheeks. I want to apologize,” he sighed, sounding pensive. “You’re busy and here I’ve been, like, keeping you from your work."

Turning around you took him in. He seemed apologetic. And honest.

"I really like spending time with you." He cocked his head, slowly releasing his hold on you. "Why don’t you tell me what the assignment is about so I can make up for distracting you by helping out?"

This was unexpected. His honest expression caught you off guard, and, hesitating for a moment, you told him about your assignment. Not before throwing him a glare–out of mere spite. 

"Well, come to think of it," he mused, "That's a topic I aced last year. I could help out."

Of course, he did, you mentally slapped yourself.

"Ok, here's my offer," his smile became wider. "I'll book a quiet room at the library and help you out."

"Ok, but we only study." You scrunched your nose cutely at him.

"Aw Cheeks, I'm hurt that you think so lowly of me." He chuckled, "Of course, we will only study—promise."

His cerulean eyes were lit up beautifully, bright, with a glint of his usual mischief in them, but also integrity. It brought back memories of when you were kids, of how he used to look at you back then. Full of contentment and—

"Ok," you declared defeat. "Three o'clock. Library. For studying."

He whipped out his phone, asking for your number and typing it down in his contact list.

"Yup, just for studying." Placing his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, he leaned in and pecked your cheek before you could even register his actions. "See ya at three, Cheeks!"

And then he strutted off, hands lazily stuffed in his pockets. As you watched him leave, you noticed the whispers from your classmates as he passed, some eyes even trained on you. It made the heat in your face even more obvious and you quickly turned to walk away.

***

It was half past two and you were sitting at one of the reading tables aligned along the wall in the basement of the library. Touya had texted you that he had successfully booked a room down there. As you were trying to kill time, you were reading in preparation for the meeting. The supportive stone pillars served as dividers in between the tables, yet not as any kind of soundproofing.

At the table adjacent to yours, two girls had been keeping you from studying, irritating you with their endless gossiping. Finally, it sounded like they were gathering their stuff when—

"Have you heard the latest news about Touya?" The first one whispered.

"Spill the beans, bestie!" The other urged.

Oh no, here we go, you thought, clearly annoyed by the fact that every girl seemed to know something about him.

"A girl I know from a party said she slept with him recently." The first one started.

You rolled your eyes. This was the worst conversation to listen to. You tried to focus back on the book, starting to read the first line when—

"You know, she claimed they did it here — in this library."

Oh for Christ's sake, you slammed your hand on the pages. You were close to standing up and leaving. But the desperate urge to want to hear where this was heading took control.

"No way, that's so hot!" The other girl gushed.

"Yeah, can you believe it? She said he invited her for a study session." You heard her shifting in her seat.

You froze, all blood starting to drain from your face.

"What, really?" The other girl's voice was high with excitement. "That's so treacherous. And naughty—"

"He signed up for a quiet room and then they fucked—" there was the sound of fabric rustling as the first one stood up.

You didn't listen any further as all sounds around you started to disappear. The pen you had clutched between your fingers slipped away from your grip, clattering onto the table.

Your heart pounded in your ears and your throat constricted. With your stomach churning and tears starting to form, the world seemed to spin as you slowly rose on your wobbly feet, snatching your belongings.

As you started walking, it felt like gravity had been turned up as every muscle in your body suddenly felt too heavy to move.

God, why did you fall for this…

***

"Please!" 

"No." You scoffed.

"Pretty please?!" Your roommate tried again.

"Still no."

Considering for a second, she continued, "I'll do the dishes for the entire next month."

Contemplating your answers for a second, you exhaled heavily. "Still no." 

She groaned out loud, but then offered with a mischievous smile on her face. "I know secrets about you that I'm not gonna hesitate to spill."

"You wouldn't dare—" You let out a harsh breath, eyes flicking up to meet hers.

"Try me!" She boasted.

You turned your attention back to your studies.

"Ok, dishes and groceries. For a month."

You let out a deep sigh, closing your book with a loud clap. "Fine."

***

So, this is how you ended up at Keigo's birthday bash - organized and hosted by none other than Touya Todoroki. 

You wanted to leave before you had even arrived. Ever since you walked out of that library a week ago, you had successfully avoided Touya and ignored every one of his calls or messages. And now you were here, able to run into him at any minute.

The party had been the talk of campus for quite a while and everyone had taken desperate measures to get their hands on the limited tickets. Even though Tenko teued to convince you to attend, you kept refusing. That was, until your roommate came into your room, fanning her face with two of those most sought-after invitations, courtesy of Tenko, and bribed you into joining her.

The party took place in an opulent suite at the noblest hotel in town, owned by none other than Enji Todoroki, Touya's dad.

Standing against the wall in a corner of the spacious two-story living room area, you took a glimpse around to take in the scene. There was a huge bar and a professional flair bartender currently doing a performance flipping his mixers and bottles, perfectly emphasizing the sleek contemporary furniture.

The entire room was filled with pro lighting effects tailored to the music of a professional DJ playing off to the side. A huge luxury buffet with an assorted arrangement of foods - all masterfully prepared - was placed against the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. It wasn't only a feast for the eye, but also one to spoil the palette.

Your roommate had already excused herself to approach some of the Seniors standing at the bar, leaving you to yourself sipping on your gin & tonic. Sliding your free hand along your dress, you nervously tugged at its hem, trying to pull it down further. Your roommate made you buy it earlier this afternoon and it felt way too short and way too tight for your liking. 

You sighed and stepped towards the well-endowed buffet table when an arm wrapped around your waist from behind and pulled you around.

"Hey, Cheeks!" A voice whispered close to your ear– but it wasn't Touya's. Blond hair tickled your cheek as Keigo dipped his head against the curve of your neck, his warm soft lips grazing your skin.

"Keigo, let me go."

"But you feel so nice." He slurred, a hand starting to wander lower. "And warm."

"Keigo–" You tried to free yourself from his embrace, "Let. Me. Go!"

"Sorry, not happening," holding you with one arm tightly, he quickly chugged a glass filled with whiskey he was holding before placing it carelessly on a catering table nearby.

You tried to push against him but years of being on the Varsity Team had obviously paid off – he didn't budge an inch.

"Lemme kiss you..." He whispered against your neck, tongue dipping out to taste you.

An uncomfortable feeling spread through you, his breath hot against your skin, heavy with the scent of whiskey. 

"Keigo, keep your hands off me–" You kept struggling against his hold as his hand slid down from your waist to your ass. “I swear to God, I’ll punch you."

Just that second you were pried out of Keigo's grip. You lost your footing and stumbled back against a warm body, a strong arm keeping you from falling. Seeing Tenko casually restraining an obviously drunk Keigo, a suspicion arose as to whose arms you were in. As you tilted your head up, a pair of mesmerizing blue eyes glanced down at you, a mischievous glint in them.

Yep. Touya.

"Please don't punch him." Touya chuckled, making sure you had safe footing before releasing you and sending you an apologetic smile. "He's just a bit drunk."

The blond man swayed in Tenko’s embrace, grinning stupidly at you, "Pfff, I'm not drunk! I'm sexy…"

"Well, you better keep restraining me or else I'll punch his pretty face nonetheless…" You growled in return.

"Ha! She said I'm pretty," the Blonde beamed, obviously delighted about your description of him.

"Tenko, please take Keigo over there," Touya nudged his head towards the other side of the room, "I saw a bunch of sorority girls looking for him."

"Yeah Tenko," Keigo's face turned bright and he slurred, "Let's go get some ass!" 

And with that, he raised his fist and stumbled off through the crowd, with Tenko rushing after him but not before rolling his eyes in annoyance.

Trapping your chin between his thumb and index finger, Touya angled your face upward as he raked his eyes over your features. "You're OK there, Cheeks?"

His scent was intoxicating. It numbed your mind and sent heat straight down between your legs. Embarrassingly enough, you noticed how just this subtle gesture of affection had your panties stick wetly to you in an instant.

"Thanks, Touya," you muttered and tried to push past him, trying to get away from him. 

But he was quick to wrap his arm around you, keeping him close to you.

"Nuh-uh, you're staying with me." He grinned, picking up a nearby fresh glass filled with amber liquid from a table. "You keep disappearing on me…"

"Oh, so what—you need me to punch you as well?" You cocked a brow at him.

"Worth the risk." A smugness settled on his face as he took a sip of the amber-colored drink from his glass.

The liquid glistened on his lips and your eyes flicked unconsciously to them before he licked it away. They were the most alluring feature, soft and slightly parted—and again you couldn't help but fantasize how they would feel pressed against yours.

You were quick to avert your gaze again. But an unwanted desire grew in your chest, and you clenched your thighs in an attempt to stop the heat from spreading.

But Touya's mouth quirked suspiciously at the corner, having seen your wandering gaze. 

You took a deep breath to keep your annoyance at bay. "What are you smiling at?"

"Hmmm let me think…" he tipped his head and added with a cheeky expression "You, staring at my lips?"

"No, I wasn't," you braced your hands against his chest in an attempt to free yourself.

Heat bloomed in your cheeks when you felt him, all the firm muscles under his soft shirt, warm and solid, his strong heartbeat pounding against your palm.

Shit.

It stirred something inside you, making you aware of just how attractive he was, how close you were to him, feeling the heat radiating off his body, his sweet breath fanning your face. The blush kept spreading to your ears especially when you noticed something else that was solid as well. And it was pressing against you. 

Just lower.

Your body felt hot all of a sudden and you tried to blame the little alcohol you had consumed so far. But the thought of how his chest would feel, bare underneath your skin, how it would feel to press your lips against it clawed its traitorous way into your brain.

Luckily the train of thought was cut short.

"I'm pretty sure you were staring at my lips," He fought back a grin as he raised an eyebrow. 

Bastard, you cursed inwardly a few times for having been caught red-handed.

"No, I wasn't," you answered, wincing inwardly from sounding so weak.

A pleased sound rumbled deep in his chest. "I think you're lying, Cheeks."

Why is he so infuriating, insufferable and so–

– goddamn attractive.

"Touya, please–" it came out as a mere whisper while you swallowed nervously.

“Please what?” He tilted his head, looking amused. “You don’t have to be shy, you know.”

He was obviously having a blast with your reaction. He has always been like that. One second he was nice and sweet and the next second his blatant cockiness annoyed the hell out of you. 

“I’m not shy.” You tried to defend yourself. "You're just annoying, that's all."

His eyes slowly dropped down to your mouth and you felt it straight in your belly. It took over your senses and clouded any coherent thoughts.

“And you’re pretty." Touya whispered, leaning in further.

“What do you want from me?” You trembled beneath his gaze, suddenly feeling so vulnerable.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tilting his head to the side, he angled his mouth above yours. “You."

You could feel his warm breath on your lips, the tip of his nose tickling yours. Maybe he did change. Maybe he really was interested in you. So without thinking any further you let your lids flutter shut, parting your lips when–

"Oi Touya!" A guy shouted at him over the noise of the crowd and the music, "Am I interrupting something?"

Your eyes shot open as both turned your heads towards a young man with short auburn hair approaching, wearing a black shirt and white tie.

"'Course you fucking are, dipshit!" Touya growled at him, obviously not happy about the guy's appearance.

The other took you in before asking, wearing a stupid grin on his face. "What happened to the cute blond girl from before? No wait, she was brunette, wasn't she—?"

"Shut it," Touya hissed, loosening his hold on you as he was ready to approach the other man.

Memories of the conversation between the two girls at the library flooded your mind and it churned another feeling inside you— one of betrayal. And suddenly you felt so dumb for thinking that he'd ever change. He would always be the guy who humiliated you and would do it again without thinking. And with that last thought, you dove under Touya's arm to start digging your way through the crowd toward the exit.

There was a loud cuss as your dark-haired admirer picked up the pursuit. But even though he was larger and stronger, you were quite agile, twisting and diving around and under people.

"Cheeks, stop!" Touya called after you.

But you didn't think of it. You almost reached the door when fingers clamped around your wrist and pulled you back.

"Fucking stop running!" Touya glowered at you, his tone aggravated. 

"Let me go!" You dug your fingers under his to try to free yourself from his grip.

"Hell no," he hissed and turned around to drag you up the stairs with him. "We're gonna have a talk."

"I don't want to though." You continued to struggle.

"I don't care, I'm sick of this!" He didn't even look at you as he arrived at the mezzanine floor.

"Touya please, you're hurting me," you whimpered, his grip on your wrist relentless as he kicked open the first door.

Touya shoved you into the room, booting the door shut behind him and you stumbled, catching yourself on the couch. Turning around you visibly paled. Touya stood in the doorframe, you'd never seen such a serious expression on his face. As he started approaching, you backed up, shrinking away under his intense glare.

"Touya, let me go–" Your voice sounded too shaky to be strong.

"No, you're not leaving until we've talked." He answered while approaching.

"You're scaring me—" You stepped further back until your back hit the wall. 

He was taking another stride until his body was directly in front of you, slamming his hands against the wall next to your head, caging you in.

"Touya—" You sniffled, "What's gotten into you?"

The blue of his eyes was dark, pointed sharply at you. 

"You're asking what's gotten into me?" His voice was dangerously low and rumbling. "Should ask you the same! Every time I wanna talk to you, you run away."

You cringed at his harsh words, his mouth pressed to a thin line, its corners angrily twitching.

"I want an explanation" He lifted his hand to slam it against the wall again, giving his words ample support.

"You pulled down my pants!" You yelled at him.

There. You said it. 

His expression turned puzzled, seriously taken aback.

"You're still mad at me for that?" His tone turned more aggravated.

“You ridiculed me!” You glared back at him, feeling your eyes watering up.

"That was ages ago!" He slammed his palm against the wall again. "I was a fucking dumb kid!"

Your bottom lip was trembling when your eyes locked. Frustration and anger clawed their way up your chest and without thinking you blurted out, "And what about the girl you fucked in the silent room? Were you gonna pull the same stunt on me?"

Your entire body was trembling by now, tears sitting heavy at your lash line.

"What the—no! Who told you that bullshit?" By now, he seriously seemed confused.

"It's no bullshit!" You spat back, "Some girls talked about it while I was waiting for you."

"So, that's why you left…" his eyes darkened, "Listen Cheeks, people say a lot of shit about me. If you would've just asked–"

"And what about that blond–" you cleared your throat, trying to suppress a sob, "No, brunette girl earlier on?" 

"Oh for fucks sake!" Touya's anger was palpable by now. "Kai hates me and always makes up shit like this just to get at me."

"I don't believe you." You turned your face sideways to avoid his gaze.

He stared at you in disbelief for a moment, before—

"You don't believe me?" He almost yelled at you. "I've been honest with you the entire time and you have just been so—aaahhh!"

He slammed his palm against the wall again. You flinched at its impact, a single tear freeing itself from your damp eyelashes, making its way down your cheek. Another one quickly followed. You choked on a gasp and noticed you had held your breath. Slowly, you breathed through trembling lips.

A heavy silence settled between you, the only audible sound being his heavy breathing and your silent sobs.

There was a subtle touch to your cheek as a warm hand gently cupped your face, turning it towards him. 

"Look at me," he said, his voice much softer.

You did, your gaze slowly rising to meet Touya's eyes. All anger was gone from his features, another expression instead passing over his face, one that was almost... tender. And affectionate.

His azure eyes took you in, the way you sniffled softly, another tear rolling down your cheek. His thumb brushed the tiny drop of salt water away as he continued gazing at you.

"Never made a girl cry like this before." His voice was low and made your heart pick up a beat, "Except for in my bed underneath me."

You giggled, sniffling, and leaned into his comforting touch. "You're such a dick…"

"I know," he chuckled and shifted forward, subtly eating up the space between you.

You could feel his warm breath fan over your skin. Then his lips ghosted over your cheek, the tip of his tongue dipping out to lick away the salty warmth of a single tear.

"Please forgive me?" He murmured against your skin, moving lower, following the trail of your tears, licking them up, one by one.

It was hard trying to formulate a response with his warm lips on your skin. You tried to say something, tried to push him away but you had forgotten how to speak – how to move.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he breathed and adjusted his direction, going lower, and lower, his tongue flicking out to lick the corner of your mouth.

You sucked in a little breath of surprise and he took the small advantage to move his mouth over yours, dipping his tongue inside.

You let your eyes flutter shut, your entire brain short-circuiting as it hit like a lightning strike. You forgot yourself, forgot everything else except for the tip of his tongue on yours. 

Your mouths started to sensually and slowly work against one another as were your tongues, leaving you lightheaded and knees buckling as you moved your hands up to steady yourself on his hips.

He smelled and tasted like the best thing you've ever tasted, with warm skin, and a hint of smoke. You kept kissing like that, his hand cupping your face, sliding behind your neck, to cup your nape, to angle your face and pull you deeper into the kiss.

You felt his thigh slip between yours, pinning you in place. The unmistakable press of something stiff against your hips caught your attention, making you gasp into his mouth. Goosebumps cascaded up and down your body and you felt each hair stand on end.

With each roll of your tongues, he humped his clothed erection against your core. A small whimper spilled past your mouth and it earned you a quiet hum of approval in response.

You were starting to lose your mind as you continued to intensify the kiss, mouths working against one another. He groaned at the way you ground your hips forward, meeting his in a desperate attempt to feel more of him.

His movements became erratic before he pulled back, panting heavily, eyes dark and hooded with lust.

"Jesus fucking–" his words came out hoarse and breathy.

Then his hands swept along the back of each of your thighs to lift you off the floor and onto his hips.

You squealed his name against his lips as he swung you around and laid you down on the soft sheets of the queen-sized bed in one swift motion, his mouth not once leaving yours.

Fitting himself between your legs, he spread them easily with his body, grinding his pelvis against your clothed heat, making sure you felt just how huge he was and how much he wanted you. 

With each rut, he pressed his throbbing cock directly against your sensitive nub. It had your blood boiling, your core clenching and you canted your hips to meet his, the coil inside of you tightening by the second.

"Touya–" you panted into his mouth, nails digging into his shirt.

It felt better than anything you could've imagined. The pressure in your guts increased, the coil wound tighter and tighter, a white heat starting to blister, and with the next press of his hips against your mound—

“Touya, wait!" you gasped against his mouth, but it was too late.

Your orgasm exploded and had you moan into his mouth, back arching off the soft mattress, pressing your breasts against him.

His movements stalled and he looked at you with a puzzled look on his face.

"Did you just…?" A surprised smirk spread on his face.

You just laid below him, trying to catch your breath, cheeks bright red and lips raw and swollen from the intensive kissing.

"Yes, you did!" His soft chuckle vibrated through you, making you squirm underneath him.

"S-Shut up," you muttered, your hand raising to cover your blushing face.

"I think it's cute." A hand slid into your palm, fingers interlacing with yours as the other rose to brush a piece of hair away from your eyes.

"I'm just sensitive." You tried to explain, your face warming.

"I love that about you," he said, his warm breath fanning against your skin. "No need to apologize."

"You're just messing with me" you murmured, eyelashes fluttering shyly.

"I'd never," you heard him say under his breath.

You both stayed like this for a few more moments, warm bodies pressed against one another. 

Then he asked, tentatively, "So, you want to stop here?"

Carding your fingers through his messy hair you laughed, "You better not--”

He buried his face in your neck and groaned deeply. "God, why do you have to be so perfect—?"

"Trying my hardest," you giggled.

He started nibbling against your pulse, making you writhe underneath him. You could feel him smirking against your skin at your reaction, lips finally brushing yours and you untangled your fingers to pull at his hair. You started kissing, deep and longingly, darting your tongue between his lips to get a better taste of him. He kept kissing you, deep and messy, just pausing to nip at your lips before shoving his tongue in your mouth again.

Without breaking the kiss, you propped yourself up on your elbows. Touya wrapped his arms around you, grabbed the zipper of your dress, and slowly pulled it down to its bottom. Hooking his fingers under your straps, he pulled the dress down over your bare breasts and you helped get your arms out. Leaning back, he gently guided you back onto the mattress. When the dress was at your hips and you lifted them, allowing him to glide it over your butt and off your legs. 

The kiss never broke, eyes closed with lust, until suddenly he straightened up, eagerly taking you in with smoldering turquoise eyes. "Shit, you look more beautiful than I imagined." 

"You imagined—?"

"Oh, you don't know how often I dreamed about you." Tracing his fingers around the curve of your completely exposed breasts, "Ever since I first saw you on campus."

With that he sunk down, latching his warm lips around your erect nipple. You sucked in a breath, a blistering heat shooting right through your body as it ripped a loud moan from your mouth. As he continued, running his tongue over your nipples, alternating between swirls and flicks, you gasped for air. His mouth closed in on one, then the other, sucking and biting lightly, while Touya hummed in approval and continued his ministrations on the other breast. 

When he stopped, you looked up at him. There was so much heat between your legs, and you were dripping wet.

“Can't believe that after all these years I finally have you in bed with me." He breathed out heavily, eyes glazed with lust as he peered at you below him. 

And If it was possible to fuck you with a look, this was it.

You swallowed your breath, heart thrumming loud against your chest. “What are you waiting for then?"

“Atta girl,” he said and hooked his thumb under the hem of your panties, pulling them down and off your legs.

Grabbing your thighs and spreading your legs apart, his breathing became faster, seeing your glistening folds, all that arousal seeping out.

"Cheeks, let's skip the foreplay." His face took on a pained expression as he gulped. "I think I'll bust a nut in my pants if I wait any longer."

Tilting your head, you took in the huge, twitching bulk in his pants, urging to be released. "Y-Yeah, go on, I'm ready."

"Thank God." He growled deep and low, hooking his fingers under his shirt.

Pulling it over his head, he threw it carelessly across the room. When he started unbuttoning his pants, you gasped as you saw a neatly trimmed black happy trail leading up to—

Sitting on his knees he pulled his pants down. 

—his pierced cock. 

Jesus Christ. Figured he was pierced– and went fucking commando.

You realized you were holding your breath when he had his eyes on you, asking with an unexpectedly low voice of his, “Ready?”

You nervously nodded when Touya was settling himself back between your legs.

Grabbing his cock at its base, he positioned it against your shimmering folds, sliding it back and forth over your slick pussy instead of putting it in. Precum mixed with your slick, his gaze transfixed on your face, waiting for approval.

The way you tentatively bit your lips was all he needed.

His cock started pressing hard against your entrance, and after a bit of resistance, the head popped in with a burning stretch.

Simultaneously, the both of you moaned out loud and tried to hold your composure. With gritted teeth, Touya pushed further agonizingly slow, groaning, each piercing slightly resisting before finally slipping in.

You felt split open, so sensitive that you struggled to last as he pushed in further, deeper. When he was finally inserted, you couldn't help but cry out again. It wasn't only the length that was impressive. The thickness and piercings were what got your head spinning. 

“Fuck,” Touya hissed through his teeth, desperation in his voice. His head dropped against your neck, his hand tapping out on the sheets.

"I-I think I need a moment here," he panted against your skin, his stiff cock wildly throbbing inside your pussy, close to painting your insides white with his creamy release.

"Whom are you telling," your breathing was labored, trying your hardest not to cum on the spot. 

"Shit, you're so…" he gulped, "Why are you so fucking tight—?"

"Cause you're huge!" You gasped sharply, clenching even harder down on him.

His breathing was still strained, his face still buried in your neck.

"So, do you need me to distract you?" You wheezed. "Pinch something or maybe—punch you?"

"Don't you dare," he chuckled, playfully biting the skin of your shoulder.

“I would never---” You giggled, close to bursting out into laughter over him.

Noticing the tension inside you slowly subsiding, you placed your warm palm on his back, gently running it up and down his stiff back, hoping he’d finally relax. Feeling the muscles slowly soften under your touch, his nether regions calmed down as well. 

"Ok," he finally breathed, "Ready?" 

You only nodded and he—

Holy shit.

You weren't prepared for this at all. Your hand was clutching onto Touya's shoulder for dear life as he began to slowly pull out. All nerve endings were on fire instantly and one hand darted up to clasp over your mouth. 

It felt amazing, his piercings adding just the right friction, his girth to the heavenly pressure. Touya grunted as he stopped, only the cockhead still buried inside your wet warm walls.

Then without a warning, he leaned his weight onto you, sinking his entire length into your pussy again, all the way to the base. He started a hard and deep pace, knocking the breath out of you.

“Touya—” you hit your head against the headboard from how urgently he thrusted forward.

“Cheeks,” he uttered between heavy breaths as he continued to slide his cock in and out of you. “How the fuck do you feel so good?"

"Y-You tell me—" You moaned.

Placing his hands on your hips and wrapping his fingers under your back he suddenly sat on his knees, lifting your butt off the mattress. Forcefully, he pulled you off the pillows and towards him, onto him, and slung your legs over his shoulders. 

Oh! was the last coherent word that your brain came up with before he started fucking you in earnest now.

Fisting your trembling fingers into the bed sheets, you bit your lower lip at the feeling of the steady push and pull, making you gasp and clench around him harder.

Touya muttered feverishly, “Fuck, you’re so wet,” under his breath, dropping his head out of pleasure. "You're dripping down my balls–"

He leaned closer to you, knees at your arms, chest pressing against your breasts as he kissed your lips while continuing to move his hips. His mouth was warm and wet and eager against your own and you clutched your hands around his nape for stability.

You slowly started losing your composure, struggling to hold back your orgasm. Still, you begged for more, more– and he delivered, thrusting into you deep and raw, faster and much more forceful than before, stimulating that special spot in you, brutal and quick.

And you couldn’t help but sob at how good it felt. Never in your life had you experienced anything like this. He hit all the right places, his piercings adding perfectly to the friction. You felt the coil inside you so close to bursting again.

Oh my god, you were gonna cum again.

You honestly never thought that sex could bring this much pleasure, with it feeling raw and amazing at the same time. Your orgasm hit you like a tsunami, squelching sounds mixed with your incoherent sobbing and his low groans, while Touya's heated gaze drank up the lewd expression on your face as you came.

“Wanna fill you up with –fuck– my fucking cum, Cheeks.” He emphasized each word with a hard thrust, making you moan even harder around his length.

You could barely speak at that point, couldn’t even find the energy to move so he slid his hand between your legs, talented fingers starting to rub your clit. 

His mouth found yours again and he kissed you– hungry and sloppy– muttering under his breath, "Do you want me to fill you up? Do you want my cum inside of you?"

"Oh god, yes." You whimpered breathlessly into his mouth.

He started to give you deeper, harder strokes now. You were close to crying, with it all being too much. Your vision became blurry from all the tears in your eyes and your body trembled, legs shook as his thrusts prolonged the orgasm and unearthed another one right behind it.

It made your eyes roll back and toes curl, losing all control as you felt the tingly feeling begin to unwind in your abdomen. You were a mess below him by then, pleading for him to go faster, harder, voice wracked with sobs of ecstasy.

The pleasure coiled, tighter and tighter. You couldn't hold back anymore, with him sliding in and out of you at this insane speed, his cock pounding into your G-spot with every thrust forward, working you both towards your shared high.

Your cries and the wet, squelching sounds of your messy unity echoed off the walls. You didn't care if people at the party downstairs could hear, too lost in each other's pleasure to think about anything else.

“I–,” he slurred, completely out of control. “I’m gonna cum.”

And then Touya’s head dropped against your shoulder, hot breath coming out in rough pants from the exertion. His eyes rolled back and he shuddered — pounding deep into you, erratic and needy. 

The sight of him being so close to bliss, the feeling of him slamming his dick into you— you couldn't handle it, and it had you falling over the edge again. The tension burst, another intense wave of pleasure racking your body as you gushed around his length. It felt like you shattered into a million pieces and then he pulled you back together again.

With his rhythm becoming sloppy and one last thrust, he came deep inside of you. sharing this moment of all-encompassing pleasure with you. 

You felt Touya toppling on top of you almost immediately, chest rising and falling fast as he tried to pump back some air into his lungs.

“Holy—,” he said, breathing heavily at the juncture of your neck.

"Yeah—" you wheezed, trying to get your heart from racing in your chest.

You both stayed like that, drunk on the endorphins rushing through your system. His hair gently brushed over your skin, his soft lips alternating between nibbling and kissing your skin while you ran your hands across his back.

He eventually got soft inside of you and then slipped out, each piercing slowly popping out. Your combined release gushed out, dripping warm and creamy down your ass and onto the sheets below.

Bit by bit, the muffled sounds of the party came back, filling the room. 

"Sooo—" He glanced at you from under his dark bangs. "Are we good now?"

"Touya…."You scolded, shuddering under the feeling of his warm lips against your neck.

"I love how you say my name." He was nosing your skin, "'Getting hard again."

"Imbecile" - you groaned when you felt his soft cock starting to twitch against your dripping folds again.

He chuckled at that response, rubbing his slender nose into your pulse.

"But since you asked so nicely— I'll think about it," raising your arms you weaved your fingers into his hair, earning you an appreciative hum.

"You're so mean, Cheeks" he cooed, continuing to cover your skin with little kisses.

"Just paying you back for years of torture," your lips curled into a soft, satisfied smile before you turned your head to meet his lips for another passionate kiss.

***

The constant talk of the professor made for a monotonous backdrop. You sighed, looking at the digital clock on your tablet. Still a few more minutes to go before class was over and you could enjoy the rest of the day off.

You paid little to no mind to the professor's words, thinking about the weekend and all that happened. After you spent the night with Touya, you both woke before anyone else. He offered to drive you home, but not without buying you your favorite coffee on the way there. After a goodbye kiss at the door, he drove off. 

To your surprise, your roommate had spent the night with Tenko and apparently would stay at his place. It was a turn you'd never anticipated but were pretty happy about. And– it left you alone in your apartment, having enough time to ponder the endless possibilities of what that night with Touya meant for you, with it occupying your mind more than you anticipated. Because even though you knew he was probably busy with getting the cleanup organized, it still ate away at you that he didn't even call once.

So needless to say, doubts were nagging at you. You weren’t sure what this meant, what his intentions were. There were a million other girls in the world he could have chosen. So many hotter ones, prettier ones. So, were you just a phase, just another girl in the line of all the others he's had?

The pain in your chest rose as you kept thinking about this. And you finally concluded that he had to have teased you, that you were just another trophy on his wall of girls he fucked.

You hated this. You hated feeling like this, these thoughts making the turmoil inside you grow. You covered your face with your palms, feeling your eyes turn hot and your lower lip starting to tremble. 

Luckily, you were ripped from your thoughts by the shuffle of the people in the room and realized that the lecture was over. You took a moment to steady your pulsating heart, sighed, and stuffed your belongings into your bag, standing up and shouldering it. 

As you headed towards the door of the lecture room and stepped outside, you only took a few steps before someone was by your side, slinging an arm around your shoulders, and pulling you close.

Looking up with wide eyes, you saw Touya, effortlessly handsome as always, grinning at you, "Hey, Cheeks, missed ya."

You didn't know what to say, noticing how people stopped in their tracks to stare at the both of you, whispers starting behind raised hands.

"W-What are you doing here, Touya?" Your cheeks blushed as the wetness of your lashes reminded you of your recent doubts.

"I'm here to see my girl." He circled one arm around your waist, rasping, "I'm sorry, but my dad kept me busy yesterday so I couldn't talk much."

"Oh," you replied as his hand slipped behind your nape, pulling you closer.

"I'm gonna make it up to you, ok?" He leaned his forehead against yours, his perfect turquoise eyes glancing right into yours. "Let's spend the rest of the day together."

You only nodded, brain empty, just filled with his scent, his warmth, his low seductive voice in your ears. It made a certain heat rise inside of you again and you clenched your thighs, secretly cursing him for having such an effect on you. 

Then Touya dipped his head down to press his warm lips against yours, not caring about the increasing number of onlookers. All thoughts left your brain when the wet tip of his tongue flicked across your lips, demanding entrance. His hand moved to your cheek to tilt your head so he could kiss you even deeper. With the rasp of his warm tongue against yours, you tangled your fingers in his hair, making him moan into your open mouth. His kiss, his touch, had your stomach in knots within seconds.

When you both pulled away for a brief moment to breathe, he groaned "God, I missed this." 

He tugged you back towards him, his tongue plunging into your mouth. You felt hot all over, your skin tingling in anticipation, as your desire for him built inside of you. He shuddered slightly when you worked your hand under his shirt, not thinking about anything but wanting to touch him, feel him.

Being in his arms again, feeling him so close, felt heavenly. 

You shivered, wetness pooling in your pants again, “Touya—”

"Bro, what the fuck?" An all too familiar voice interrupted over the whispers of the surrounding onlookers. "You kissing in public?"

Touya groaned and broke the kiss, straightening up. "Got a problem with that, dumbass?"

"Maybe," Keigo approached, raking his manicured hand through his blond hair.

Coming to a stop in front of you, Keigo hooked his thumbs into his expensive Gucci jeans as he took both of you in. "So Cheeks, can I have a kiss as well—?"

"No, you fucking can't." He hissed, his arms circling protectively around your figure. "Don't even think about touching her."

"Touya, I'm sure he didn't mean it like that." You tried to intervene.

Touya looked straight ahead at Keigo. "Oh yes, he did."

"Yep Birdie, I would love to have a taste of you…" Keigo winked at you.

You blink twice, taking a moment to process his words.

“Piss off, Keigo." Touya hissed.

But the blond man wasn't phased at all by the threat.

"Why not?” Keigo smirked, ruffling his hair. “Are you, like dating or what? Cause, you never date---”

You froze and averted your eyes, afraid of his answer because you still weren't sure what this meant to him.

“Of course we are,” Touya said, unfazed, drawing you closer to him.

"W-We are?" Your stomach somersaulted, heart rising to your throat at his words.

"Sure Cheeks, what else did you think?" Seeing you with disbelief in your eyes he rolled his eyes at you. "That this was just a one-night stand? You disappoint me—"

"Her reaction doesn't surprise me at all." Keigo's teasing smirk split into a full-blown grin, "Never took you for a relationship type of guy."  

Touya’s head spun around to face his friend.

"Me on the other hand," Keigo mused, grinning suspiciously at you, "I am all for a serious relationship, just saying."

"Shut it, Keigo," Touya growled upon his words, visibly irritated. "She's mine."

Looking at Keigo you noticed the corners of his mouth wobbling suspiciously, as his eyes flicked to yours before focusing back on Touya.

Oh. Ohhh—

You found yourself holding back your giggles, watching the scene now unravel in front of you from a different perspective.

"Well, ok," Keigo wiggled his eyebrows at you, "My offer's still up though."

Touya growled deep and threatening. "Keigo, I'm warning you—"

The blonde shrugged at the threat before continuing with a big mischievous grin. "So, was he any good? Cause I'm much better—"

"You motherfuckin–" Keigo barely dodged Touya's fist and spun around to run off cackling, only for your boyfriend to take after him.

"I'm also much bigger than him!" You heard Keigo yell, followed by Touya's angry howl.

You couldn't help but burst out laughing looking after them running down the hall like two little children. Needless to say, this was the best start to college for you after all.

#dabi smut #touya smut #college touya smut #college touya #college boy Touya #college!touya #college!au #mha college au #bnha college au #touya x reader #touya x you #keigo takami #tenko shimura #my hero academia touya #my hero academia college au

[stevie-petey]

episode three: the pollywog

Steve looks over at you, not necessarily amused, but flattered nonetheless. “You know my class schedule?” A blush spreads across your face as you look away from him, but Steve still sees it and something flutters in his chest. He’s always thought you were pretty when you blushed, but you’re even prettier when he’s the reason why. “I pay attention,” you dodge.

Summary: you lecture jonathan about daddy issues and then have an intellectual debate about healthy relationships, you play Mr. Love Dr with Steve, nancy and jonathan go on a sick side quest (and actually inform you this time !), meanwhile: you're about to put a leash on your damn brother.

Rating: general, some curing

Warnings: use of y/n, fem!reader, cursing, slight reference to billy being mean and trauma

Words: 6.7k

Before you swing in: hello ! my first day of spring semester is tomorrow, so here's a quick lil chapter for yall :) i wont have a lot of time to update as frequently anymore, but i promise i will continue to update as much as i can <3 in the meantime, enjoy this chapter n have a lovely day my dears !!

-

Like most mornings, you’re up and ready before Dustin has even woken up.

“Dustin! C’mon, wake up! Jonathan will be here soon and–” You try to open your brother’s door, but it’s locked. “What the–? Dustin! Hello?”

You begin pounding on his door, trying and failing to get in, and right as you’re about to break the door down, your mom comes in from the kitchen. “Y/N, Dusty has already left.”

“Left? Like, he went to school already?” No way in hell that kid has just decided to get up and ready for school any earlier than he needed to. That kid could sleep thirty hours if given the chance.

“Yup! He left pretty early this morning, said he had a test to study for.” Your mom says as she wanders back towards the kitchen to make her usual cup of coffee.

“Huh,” you’re starting to worry that maybe Dustin is hiding something. First he blocked the door from you last night, now he’s supposedly leaving early for some test? He’s hiding something, you know he is. What worries you, though, is that Dustin hasn’t felt the need to hide anything from you since the whole El fiasco.

Which hadn’t ended well.

As you’re lost in thought, mentally going through Dustin’s actions these last few days, Jonathan walks through your front door, keys in hand.

“Hey, bug. Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you shake your head to clear any more thoughts. You’ll interrogate Dustin later. “Let me grab my bag, one sec.”

Jonathan nods before he’s attacked by your mom, who pulls him into a hug squeals. “Jonathan!”

“You saw me last night, Mrs. Henderson.” He pats her back awkwardly, mouthing “help me” towards you, but you only laugh and grab your bag from your room.

As soon as you have your stuff, you and Jonathan head out. You sneak some glances at him while he drives, memories from last night crashing back. The party… Well, who could’ve seen any of that coming? Considering how shitty the night turned out, Jonathan looks better at least. However, the bruises on his knuckles make you frown.

“I’m sorry about Billy,” you say, grabbing the bruised hand. His skin is rough against yours, but familiar all the same.

Jonathan gives you an incredulous look. “You’re sorry?”

“Yes…?”

“Bug, no. We aren’t doing this.” He shakes his head, pulling his hand away to run it through his hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Billy was being a piece of shit, you needed my help, so I did what any sane person would do.”

You’re silent, not used to having such aggression from Jonathan aimed at you. He’s not necessarily mad at you, but you and him have had some issues in the past about stuff like this. You’ve always apologized for other people’s actions, as if you getting hurt is somehow always your fault. He hates that you do it.

You hate that you always do it. But you can’t help it, it’s almost second nature at this point.

Jonathan, reading your mind, sighs. His anger dissipates and he grabs your hand now, kissing your knuckles softly. “I’m sorry for yelling. I just… You mean the world to me, Y/N. I love you, I will always be there for you. I’d punch Billy a million more times if I needed to, without you ever having to ask me.”

“I know, but–”

“If you feel guilty I will pull this car over and shake your pretty little head until I finally knock some sense into it.”

Finally, you laugh. “Now that’s just dramatic.”

“Do I need to pull over?”

“No,” you raise your hands up in surrender. “I’ll shut up now.”

Jonathan nods his head. “Good, just the way I like it.”

You smack his chest, and he fake screams in pain. He makes a show of it, hunching himself over while he drives and clutches at his chest, which you giggle at. He’s laughing as well, and it’s one of your “normal” moments that have become so few and far between. Just you and Jonathan, giggling in his car early in the morning as you drive to school, your laughter is just enough to keep the two of you warm.

Jonathan’s ladybug ring catches the morning light and the bee wrapped around your neck buzzes against your skin.

But “normal” never lasts long anymore, and you remember Nancy’s drunken eyes from last night and Steve’s loneliness in his voice when he asked you why everyone keeps leaving him. The memories cause your giggles to fade off, the small moment of joy now gone.

Jonathan sees your mood change and, because he’s always on the same page as you, purses his lips. “So… It’s now tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, remembering telling him last you’d talk about Steve and Nancy tomorrow. “It’s now tomorrow.”

“Why’d you insist on driving Steve home?”

The question is innocent enough, but you sense that how you answer it could change things. “He was upset.”

“Sure, but you almost bit my head off when I last asked about that guy. Then you wanted to drive him home?” Jonathan keeps his eyes on the road ahead of him, though he clenches his jaw ever so slightly. But you see it. You always see it.

“Bee… I had to, okay? Please, can we just leave it at that?” You don’t want to talk about your fucking feelings with the first boy you’ve ever loved, the boy who doesn’t love you back.

Jonathan swallows, takes another deep breath, and then nods. “I took Nancy home, like Steve asked. She was… Very drunk. Had to carry her into bed.”

“I’m sorry about that, too.”

“You didn’t shove alcohol down her throat.”

“No, but I did encourage her to go to that stupid party while she was fighting with Steve.”

“Steve and Nancy have been fighting?”

Shit. You forgot that Jonathan didn’t know.

“Okay, yes” you say, but right as Jonathan’s eyes light up, you’re quick to backtrack. “But if I tell you anything else, you have to swear to keep it between us. Got it?”

“I won’t say a word.”

You sigh, really hoping you aren’t breaking Nancy’s trust. Technically, she hadn’t asked you to keep your conversation from yesterday private, but… It feels wrong telling Jonathan about it. “Nancy and Steve have been fighting, yes, but not in the way you’d think.”

You’ve arrived at school, so Jonathan quickly parks the car before motioning for you to keep talking. “Go on, I’m curious now.”

“God, you’re a worse gossip than I am. Anyways, she’s mad at Steve for brushing off Barb’s death, in a sense. But also, like… Steve isn’t really brushing off Barb’s death? I think he just wants to help Nancy, those are his intentions, but he doesn’t know how. He thinks dinner dates, going to parties, and spending a lot of time together will get her mind off of things.”

Jonathan scoffs. “Well, babying Nancy won’t help.”

“I know, and you’re right, but Nancy should have expressed this to Steve better, don’t you think? I mean, we don’t know what happened last night, but it seems like she tried drinking away her anger towards him rather than actually talking to him.”

“And how can we know Steve wouldn’t just run away or something? Actually be up for it, be proactive rather than retroactive. It seems like Nancy needs to do something about Barb’s death.”

Frustration builds within you. “And what good does assuming something actually do? Assuming that Steve wouldn’t listen is wholly unfair and honestly, a bit rude. He’s her boyfriend, she can’t just assume he wouldn’t care. Steve has done everything he can to show he cares, that he loves her, so I think Nancy should be the one to voice her feelings and let him know what she needs. What she wants.”

Jonathan looks away. “And what should Nancy want, bug?”

You’re silent.

Somehow, you and Jonathan aren’t fighting about Steve and Nancy anymore.

“I… I don’t know.” You look out the window, watching as students pass by.

After a tense silence, Jonathan tries to crack a joke. “Oh, you’ll laugh at this! Caught Bob sneaking out the house like some shameful teenage boy this morning.”

You turn towards him now. “Why would I laugh at that? I think it’s sweet, your mom seems happy.”

“Sure, but…” Jonathan’s smile falters, not expecting you to be so stoic as a reaction. “He’s kinda a loser, you gotta admit.”

“Jonathan Byers, I literally had to save you from bullies, five times my size, as a girl, when we were twelve.”

“Okay, I didn’t mean it like that–”

“You should be nicer about Bob. He’s a good guy, he actually cares about you, Will, and your mom. After the hell you guys went through with Lonnie, you should be appreciative of Bob.” You’re so angry now, your fists shake with rage. “You have a healthy father figure in your life now, which I would kill to give Dustin, and even if you don’t like him, you’re luckier for it.”

Jonathan is quiet. He’s staring down at his steering wheel in shame, and you feel bad for snapping so suddenly. You aren’t sorry for your anger towards him, his attitude towards Bob has been bothering you for a while. However, it doesn’t mean you have to be a bitch about it just because of your own issues surrounding shitty dads.

“I’m sorry, bee. You have a right to feel uncomfortable about the change, but I just think you should give Bob a chance. I like the guy.” You offer, looking over at your friend tentatively.

“No, you’re right. I know you are, it just takes some getting used to, I guess.” He grabs your hand, gives it a squeeze as if to tell you it’s all good now, and you squeeze his hand back.

“Great drive to school today,” you quip.

Jonathan laughs. “God, I think I had about five heart attacks during those conversations.”

The tension leaves the car. Then, slowly, the warmth creeps back in as you and Jonathan once again start laughing. You’re not sure why you’re even laughing, but you’re happy that you are.

–

Jonathan walks you to your locker, as he always does, and before he turns to head to his, you notice how quiet it is in the hallway. You look over at Nancy’s locker, which somehow always manages to be near yours every year, and frown when you don’t see her.

“There’s a suspicious lack of Nancy and Steve making out against her locker this morning.” You tell Jonathan.

He looks around and notices you’re right. The two of you share a concerned glance, knowing that their absence can’t mean anything good for the couple.

“Should we go look for them?” He asks, but you’re already heading towards the parking lot to find Steve. “Y/N!”

“Go find Nancy!” You call behind you, speeding up. “I’ll meet you at first period!”

Steve’s car is hard to miss in the parking lot. Hawkins isn’t necessarily a flashy town. No one else besides the Harringtons owns a fancy BMW. You approach the car and spot Steve sitting in the front, his head ducked down as if no one can see his massive red car and easily identify him.

Idiot.

Steve is having a rough week, so he’s spent the last five minutes in his car debating on whether or not he can afford to skip his first class. Reasonably speaking, his dad would kill him. He already has shit grades and he’s missed three college application deadlines. All he has left is Tech. However, his girlfriend told him last night she doesn’t love him and Billy embarrassed him in front of everyone last night.

Plus Nancy left with Jonathan, which everyone saw.

He told him to take her, but still.

Pretty embarrassing.

Yup. Alright. He’s going home.

Steve reaches over for his keys to turn the car on, but before he can, a knock on his window stops him. He looks up, scared Billy will be there, but instead he sees you and he’s not sure if his day just got better or worse.

“Let me in, dingus.” Your voice is light, but still stern, and yeah. Steve’s day just got better.

He unlocks the door and you silently get into the passenger seat. As you get settled in, he thinks about the first time he ever had you in his car. It feels like a lifetime ago, Steve’s heart had been beating wildly taking the risk of offering you a ride.

It had been the start of something, he could feel it.

But then you left him that summer without another word, as if nothing had happened between the two of you. As if Steve hadn’t slowly come to find himself opening up to someone, trusting that you’d let him be whoever he wanted; he could just be Steve around you, not King Steve or even perfect boyfriend Steve.

Now Steve’s hiding out in his car, no longer King Steve or even good fucking boyfriend Steve, and instead of his girlfriend seeking him out to comfort him, it’s you. Because of course it’s you.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hi.”

“You know that senior study hall is inside the school, right?”

Steve looks over at you, not necessarily amused, but flattered nonetheless. “You know my class schedule?”

A blush spreads across your face as you look away from him, but Steve still sees it and something flutters in his chest. He’s always thought you were pretty when you blushed, but you’re even prettier when he’s the reason why.

“I pay attention,” you dodge.

Steve wants to tease you some more, play into the banter he missed the most when the two of you weren’t talking, but his heart isn’t in it. Nancy’s words kept him up all night. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could hear was her telling him that she didn’t love him. After he did everything he possibly could’ve done right, it still hadn’t been enough.

“Did Nancy get home okay?”

You give him a small smile. “Yeah, I just talked to Jonathan about it.”

Relief floods through Steve. At least that’s one thing he hadn’t fucked up last night. “Good… I’m glad then.”

He awkwardly clears his throat and looks away again. He doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore. He feels lost, floating through his morning. Nothing has felt real since yesterday in the library with Nancy, when she had been looking up at him with those eyes he’s always been weak for.

“Any particular reason you’re hiding out in your car?”

Steve lets out a bitter laugh. “You were there last night. You know what happened.”

“Actually, I don’t.” You see the disbelief on Steve’s face and quickly correct yourself. “I mean, I remember you saying something about Nancy but… I don’t want to assume, so…”

Now you’re the one looking away in shame, and Steve watches as you nervously fiddle with your fingers and bite your lip. You’re trying. Though Steve still isn’t sure how to feel about you, how much to test this new compromise between you two, this “friendship”, Steve knows he has to at least try as well.

He takes a deep breath. “Nancy… She isn’t in love with me.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Steve, I mean, are you sure–”

“Pretty fucking sure, Y/N. Unless you think someone telling their boyfriend ‘like we’re in love’ means she’s madly in love with him.”

Another beat of silence passes. Steve can see the pity in your eyes, and he hates it. He fucking hates this, feeling so pathetic and small.

Then, your hand slowly intertwines with his and the anger in Steve’s chest lessens a bit. “I know my words don’t mean anything, but… Nancy not being in love with you has nothing to do with you as a person.”

Something untangles in Steve’s chest; you’ve reassured him of something he hadn’t even known had been his fear. How do you always seem to decipher what he’s feeling before he can?

“How do you know?” Steve has never felt so small before.

You shrug, but there’s a calculated nonchalance to it that he can easily see. “Because I know you. You’re frustratingly charming, Harrington.”

Steve laughs, something he didn’t even know he was able to do anymore. “That’s your takeaway here?”

“Mhm,” you squeeze his hand and Steve has never felt this grounded before by such a small action. “I say you need to talk to Nancy, I mean really talk to her. No more half truths and appeasements. I think she does love you, in her own way, but the circumstances aren’t on your guys’ side. I mean, she went through hell and back last year, Barb’s death anniversary is soon.”

You pause for a moment and frown, which Steve has come to learn means you’re carefully choosing which words to say next. “I want you to know, no, I need you to know, that this has nothing to do with you. Okay?”

Steve wants to believe you, god he really wants to, but even he can see the blaring irony of you telling him that Nancy’s lack of love for him has nothing to do with him personally. You, the girl he came to trust more than anyone else in this awful town, ditched him in the same manner. Steve’s the common denominator there. He’s always the one left behind.

“Look, I appreciate what you’re saying, but the words don’t mean a whole lot coming from you right now,” Steve tells you, and he hates the way your eyes darken, as if guarding yourself from him. “I know we agreed on being friends again, but I just… I need some time.”

You nod, as if you expected something like that from Steve, and he almost wants to just drive away with you in the car and pretend that nothing else exists. Instead, he clears his throat, his tongue feels heavy and his throat threatens to close up, but he forces himself to get the words out. “I want to be alone, please.”

He really doesn’t want to be alone, but his brain is swimming in confusion and you’re still holding his hand and Steve just needs a moment to himself to just breathe.

“Of course,” you tell him, because of course you listen and understand. “You know where to find me, yeah?”

Steve nods. He does.

“Bye, Y/N.”

You give him a small wave in response, close the car door, and then make your way back to the high school.

Steve watches you fade into the distance.

He’s alone again.

–

Jonathan makes it to first period with only seconds to spare. He throws himself into his seat next to you with panting breaths. Your history teacher, Mrs. Kent, drones through attendance without having noticed anything.

“I couldn’t find Nancy.” Jonathan whispers, before his name is called and he quickly raises his hand and says, “Here.”

You glance at the chalkboard and then flip your textbook to the page scrawled on it. “I found Steve wallowing in his car, alone. Guess he didn’t drive Nancy to school?”

“Seems a bit harsh.”

“May I remind you of the time you threw a jacket at my face and then screamed at me that we aren’t family? All because you felt guilty about taking naked photos of Nancy?”

Jonathan drops his head onto the desk, letting out a groan. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

You keep your eyes on the board, taking a few notes. “Nope.”

Class starts up now, so the topic is left alone. The school day passes on, you and Jonathan separating for your own classes after history is done. The day drags on for a while, though you hear a few whispers in the hall about how Jonathan had taken home a drunk Nancy.

“God, it’s like she loves the attention.” One girl giggles with her friend while you’re at your locker.

Her friend rolls her eyes. “Please, as if anyone would choose Byers over Steve Harrington.”

“I’m more of a Wheeler fan myself,” you tell the girls, not even sparing them a glance. “Now, why don’t we all just shut up and move away from my locker?”

The girls scurry away, fear in their eyes, and you simply shake your head at them. Why is Nancy always the one those girls gossip about? Objectively speaking, Steve has done much more heinous things than getting a ride home from a friend while drunk.

Jonathan kisses your cheek as he walks up from behind you, breaking you from your thoughts. “Hey, bug. Lunch at my car today?”

“Ugh, it’s such a nice day today, I’d love to.” You grab your lunch from your locker. Once you have it, you link your arm through Jonathan’s. “Guide the way, good sir.”

“Yes ma’am.”

–

Nancy is leaning against Jonathan’s car when you walk outside.

Her shoulders are slouched and you can see the unease on her face. She looks tired, too. A few people walk by her and stare, whispering as they go, and you really hate high schoolers sometimes.

When you make it to Jonathan’s car, Nancy holds her lunch bag up awkwardly. “Can I join you guys?”

“I’m sure we can make some room.” You tell her, which she smiles at.

It takes some adjusting, but eventually the three of you manage to fit on the front of the car. You sit on the roof, your legs dangling off of the side, while Nancy and Jonathan take the front. The early November sun beats down on you three, but the cool breeze makes the sting less painful. It’s a lovely day, all things considered.

You’re nibbling on your sandwich when Nancy exhales deeply and turns to you. “Y/N, you’d always tell me the truth, right?”

“Depends,” you take another bite out of your food. “What is this in reference to?”

“Last night… I don’t remember what I did.”

There’s a certain shame in her eyes that tells you she encountered Steve before retreating to Jonathan’s car. “You spoke to Steve this morning, I take it?”

She looks at you, surprised. “How did you–”

“We talked to him last night.” Jonathan cuts her off, looking between you and Nancy nervously. He’s not sure where you, her, and Steve all fall in regards to each other.

“So, he asked you to take me home?” Nancy faces him now, and you go back to eating.

“Yeah. Yeah, I mean he was upset…” He glances at you briefly before looking back at Nancy. “I mean, he was really upset.”

“I don’t blame him.” You cut in, mouth full of chips you stole from Jonathan.

He sends you glare and keeps talking. “But he was still worried about you, Nance.”

Nancy drops her head down and a part of you feels bad for the quip. She really does look ashamed, but you distinctly remember warning her about this exact thing last year in the school’s shed. She had tried telling you there wasn’t anything between her and Jonathan, and all you could tell her was that Steve didn’t deserve to be lied to or cheated on.

Guess she only kept one end of that bargain.

Jonathan sees that she’s upset and he softens his voice, scooting closer to her. “Hey, you need to cut yourself some slack, okay? People say stupid things when they’re wasted. Things they don’t mean.”

You bite your tongue. Hard. If you allow yourself to speak, you won’t be able to guarantee it’ll be anything nice. Sure, being drunk can influence some words to slip out, but cruelly telling your boyfriend of over a year that you don’t love him is something you can’t defend. Not when Nancy had other chances to tell Steve.

Nancy whips her head up. “Yeah, but that’s the thing. What if I did mean it? All this time, I’ve been trying so hard to pretend like everything’s fine, but it’s not.”

You and Jonathan share a look. He seems more curious, you can feel the anger burning through your eyes.

“No offense, Nance.” You wipe your hands on a napkin and force the girl to look at you. “But this is really something that you should be talking to Steve about. Remember our conversation from last year?”

Nancy looks down again in shame. “You’re right, I know you are, but… I don’t know. I feel like there’s this…” She pauses, trying to figure out how to explain her thoughts, but Jonathan finishes for her.

“Like there’s this weight you’re carrying around with you. All the time. I feel it, too.” He says, then he flicks your leg. “Y/N does as well. She tries to hide it, but I know she feels it as much as I do.”

Now it’s you who turns away, embarrassed and ashamed. Clearly you haven’t been so good at hiding your neverending guilt over Will.

“Yeah, but it’s different for you guys. Will came home.” Nancy says.

You open your mouth to speak, to correct the girl’s horrible viewpoint, but Jonathan surprises you by correcting her himself. “Yeah, he did. But he’s not the same. I try to be there for him, you know, to help him, but… I don’t know.”

“Dustin still has nightmares.” You admit, which Jonathan hadn’t known.

“I thought those went away, bug.”

You shake your head at him. “No… If anything, they’ve only gotten worse. Some nights he sleeps in my bed, says I calm him down, but I just… I feel horrible, knowing I left them alone that night at the middle school. The things he saw… god.”

Nancy and Jonathan sigh, understanding how painful the weight of guilt can feel.

A silence follows your confession.

Then, because you hate when there’s silence, you try to go back to the previous topic. “Anyways, Nancy, what we’re trying to say is that we understand. And I’m sure Steve will, too. He was also there that night, at Jonathan’s. You should talk to him, explain the weight within you. Steve, he…”

You find yourself pausing, unsure if what you’re about to tell Nancy is something Steve would want you to keep between you two, but he misses her. He loves her, so you try to fix whatever you can between them. “He thinks he did something wrong, that he’s unlovable. It isn’t fair to make someone feel that way.”

Nancy sighs. “I didn’t know that.”

“I know, but now that you do, you should probably do something about it. You guys can still go back to how things were.”

Jonathan frowns. “What if things can’t go back to the way they were? I mean, Will still thinks he’s in the Upside Down sometimes. I’ve seen the way Dustin gets scared when he hears a loud noise.”

A phantom pain shoots through your ankle. It’s long since healed, but sometimes memories from last year still sting. As you’re absentmindedly rubbing at it, Nancy notices and starts to get upset.

“Doesn’t that make you mad?”

“Mad?” You and Jonathan ask at the same time.

Nancy seems to almost come back to life, her anger now bringing energy back into her. “Yeah, that those… Those people who did this, who ruined so many lives, they just get away with it.”

“The people responsible for this, they’re dead.” Jonathan gently reminds her.

Nancy leans in close, bitterness in her voice as she narrows her eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

Jonathan frowns again and you do the same. If you’re being honest, you were also pretty skeptical about the whole evil scientists at Hawkin’s Lab all dying. Seemed like a pretty convenient thing to happen. But what else are you supposed to believe?

Nancy looks between you and Jonathan and sighs again. You know she’s upset by your unwillingness to look further, to question everything, but then you watch as her eyes drift towards some kid with his headphones and his walkman. Something shifts in her gaze and you know immediately that she’s thought of something.

You scoot closer in a hurry. “Nancy, whatever it is–”

“Your mom’s boyfriend,” she looks over at Jonathan. “He works at RadioShack, right?”

“Yeah… Why?” Jonathan looks over at you as if you have any possible explanation, and you just shrug at him. “What are you thinking?”

“Do you wanna skip fourth period?”

Immediately you hop down from the car. “No. Nope. Not happening. We aren’t doing this again.”

Nancy groans at you. “Y/N, I haven’t even explained my plan to you yet.”

“Okay, go on. Explain it, so I can then say no.”

Nancy does as she’s told, and it’s a fucking brilliant plan. You know it’ll work, and that’s why you can’t do it. Buying a tape recorder, planting a fake meetup with Barb’s mom to con the Hawkin’s Lab people into taking them in, and then recording whatever they confess to take it to the detective Barb’s parents hired.

It’s a genius plan, but you can’t leave the kids behind for that long.

“I can’t go.”

Jonathan looks disappointed. “Bug, don’t you want to make those assholes pay?”

“I do,” you reassure him. “But I can’t afford to leave the kids behind for two whole days. I mean, last time I did they opened a portal to another dimension. And Dustin has been acting weird lately, and Will’s been having those episodes more and more and I just… What if it’s happening again?”

Your voice shakes a bit with fear, and Jonathan pulls you into him. “We don’t know that.”

“But what if it is? Who would be there for them? We can’t just leave them to suffer the consequences alone while we’re trying to avenge them.”

While you’re still wrapped in Jonathan’s arms, Nancy rests her own hand against your shoulder. “I would feel better knowing the kids are in good hands. You’ve always been their biggest advocate.”

You thank the girl, but Jonathan still seems unsure about leaving you behind. “What about you? Who’s gonna be there for you if something happens?”

There, hidden underneath his words, you know he’s really asking how can I protect you if you aren’t within arm’s reach?

You bury your face into his chest, and Nancy seems to get the message and looks away. When you have some privacy, you look up at Jonathan. “I’ll be okay, bee. I promise. We can call every day you’re away, nothing will go uncommunicated this time. No secrets. You’ll be home in no time and I’ll be right here, safe and sound.”

He kisses your head. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

“I should be telling you that.”

“Y/N…” he isn’t laughing, and you can hear how fast his heart is pounding. He’s terrified to leave you behind, but you know that this is what you have to do.

“I love you, and I’ll be right here. Come home to me, alright?”

“I will.” He promises, and you look into his eyes and see all the warmth and sincerity that you’ve come to love so much, and you believe him.

After a few moments, you finally pull away from him. You clear your throat and turn towards Nancy. “Okay, now that we’ve got that settled, I’m assuming I’m covering for y’all?”

She nods. “If you wouldn’t mind, can I tell my mom I’m at your place?”

“Duh, and Jonathan,” you flick his forehead, breaking the remaining tension away. “I’ll tell your mom you’ll be at my place as well. Sound good?”

He nods as well, though his eyes linger on you longer than they should.

“Well!” You clap your hands and stand between Nancy and Jonathan. “Great team meeting, gang. Let’s reconvene in two day’s time.”

Nancy laughs and pulls you into her own hug.

“I’ll keep him safe,” she whispers into your ear, and you exhale shakily. The weight of everything has finally settled in. You can’t believe you’re doing this. A part of you feels like you’ve just solidified something horrible, not agreeing to come along, but the other part of you, maybe even the larger part, is secretly relieved.

You’re not sure what to make of it.

“Thank you.” You whisper back, squeezing her tightly.

When you break apart, you pull Jonathan into yet another hug. “Stay safe, bee.”

“I will.”

“Good,” you pull away and give the two teens a thumbs up. “Break a leg, go expose some weird government agency!”

–

True to your word, you cover for Jonathan and Nancy the rest of the day. Teachers ask where they are and you simply tell them they both had a family emergency. Thankfully, due to living in such a small and rundown town, they don’t question it.

After school, you head over across the street to the middle school to go pick up Will and Dustin. Since Jonathan drove you to school and took his car with Nancy, you’ll have to hitch a ride on your brother’s bike pegs to work.

When you reach the school you walk towards the bike rack, expecting to see the boys all standing there about to leave, but you stop when you realize that they aren’t.

Huh. Odd.

You wander around. It’s been years since you’ve been inside the middle school, and the hallways are filled with memories. You walk towards the AV room, figuring they’re probably there to discuss whatever new project they’re working on. As you round the corner, you hear pounding and a girl’s voice demanding to be let in.

Speeding up, you spot Max with her angry fists. “Guys! What’s going on? C’mon!”

You watch for a moment, curious as to who this girl is. Dustin spoke highly of her, yet her brother is the worst person you’ve met in your life. She has an anger in her, that much is obvious, but then she grabs something from her bag and begins to pick at the lock.

Hm, she’s smart.

“Need some help?” You ask her.

She looks up at you and frowns. “And who are you?”

“Y/N Henderson. Unfortunately, the idiot that I’m assuming is locked inside the room is my brother.”

“You know how to pick a lock?” Max asks, eyeing you up and down.

Shrugging, you say, “can’t be too hard.”

Max seems to accept that as an answer and slides over, making room for you to crouch down next to her. You help her jimmy the paperclip into the door. Then, you hear some muffled yelling from the other side. What the fuck has your brother gotten up to this time?

“I’m gonna put a leash on that kid,” you mumble, and Max laughs.

“Do they do this a lot?”

You blow a piece of hair out of your face. “Yeah. They’re weird, honestly–”

The lock clicks, the door flings open, and suddenly a tiny, slimy creature comes scampering out the room. You hear the boys curse and before you can get up and out of their way, they come crashing into you and Max on the ground.

“Shit!” Dustin knees your forearm and you groan.

“Y/N!” His eyes widen when he sees you. He’s been caught.

Max gets up. “What was that?”

Lucas ignores her. “He’s getting away!”

“Who is getting away?” You’re finally up as well, watching as the boys start to scramble around in a panic.

Mike, seemingly unsurprised by your sudden appearance, turns to you. “Dart!” Then, in annoyance, he turns towards Max. “You let him escape!”

“What the fuck is a Dart?” You’re freaking out now. Lucas, hearing your confusion, can only shrug his shoulders at you.

Then, Dustin angrily advances towards Mike and starts yelling in his face. “Why did you attack him?”

Mike doesn’t say a word, he just starts to run down the hall. Dustin, even more in a panic, screams at him, “Don’t hurt him! Don’t you hurt him!”

You grab at your brother’s jacket and fling him back, now incredibly fucking angry. “Dustin Henderson, you have three seconds to explain what the fuck is happening.”

Lucas, Max, and Will stand back, frightened by your anger. Dustin, the only one who ever seems to face this anger, gulps. “I can explain.”

“Start. Talking.”

And he does. He explains how he had found Dart last night, thinking it had been some new lizard breed previously undiscovered. That’s why he hadn’t let you into his room. Then, to prove he was some scientific prodigy and, which he doesn’t tell you but you suspect, to impress Max.

“I was about to show Mr. Clark before Mike came in and took Dart. According to Will…” Dustin looks over at Max, lowers his voice, and whispers to you, “he’s from the Upside Down.”

And there it is.

There, the dread that has been creeping up on you ever since you saved Will, comes crawling up. You knew this would happen eventually. It’s happening again. You were right.

God, it’s happening again.

Thank fuck you stayed behind with the kids.

You want to throw up, crawl into a ball and pretend nothing else exists anymore, but Dustin is looking at you with fear in his eyes and you know you have to be strong for him. For all the kids, now. “Okay, let’s split up and find Dart.”

Dustin nods and sends Will southbound, Lucas westbound, and Max towards the gymnasium. You go with him, both because he’s your brother and because you have a few choice words you’d like to say to him. Everyone takes a walkie and splits up.

Mike is already long gone, which you’re not surprised by.

After everyone leaves, you snap at Dustin. “Thanks so much for telling me about Dart, by the way.”

“Y/N…”

“What exactly did you think you’d do with that thing hidden in our house?”

“Continue to hide it from you–ow!” Dustin rubs the back of his head.

You continue to walk. “You deserved that.”

“I did.”

You laugh, but then you feel a sense of static behind you. You turn around, but there’s no one there. But the static had felt like the same electricity that had accompanied El’s powers last year, but… No. She’s gone. You know she is.

Brushing it off as paranoia, you continue to keep an eye out for Dart. “So, what does Max think about all this?”

“Mike won’t let us tell her.” Dustin says, annoyance in his voice.

This doesn’t shock you. “I get why. I mean, we all almost died last year.”

“Yeah, but she’s different. She’s cool, I think she could be good for the party.”

Dustin seems so eager, and you feel bad for denying the boy. “She’s too young. You’re all too young for this. We can’t rope her any further into the Upside Down. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

Your brother sighs. “I mean, I guess… but–”

Will’s voice suddenly comes through the walkie. “Guys, I found him.”

“Where?” Dustin fumbles with the walkie, almost dropping it in his frantic rush to answer.

“In the bathroom by Mr. Salerno’s.”

“Copy that.” Mike says.

You look over at Dustin. “Race you to the bathroom?”

“You’re on.”

The two of you start to run, and at first you’re winning. But then you forget that you haven’t been in the school for at least three years now and you take a wrong turn, misremembering where Mr. Salerno’s room is. “Shit!”

You backtrack, but Dustin is long gone now.

By the time you get your bearings back, Lucas, Mike, and Max have all run down the hallway towards the bathroom. You join them as you all run inside. Dustin is standing in the middle of the bathroom, which you find strange.

Mike looks around. “Where’s Dart?”

“I don’t know. Not here.” You eye your brother, but he averts your gaze.

“Will said he was here.” You remind him, but Dustin doesn’t respond.

Mike curses and starts checking all the stalls.

“Maybe Will has him?” Dustin says, but you keep an eye on him. Something isn’t right.

You’re about to call Dustin’s bluff, accuse him of lying, when Mike suddenly freezes. He looks around, then turns to you. “Where’s Will?”

You turn around and finally notice that yeah, Will isn’t here. But he had just radioed from the bathroom.

“I… I don’t know.” Fear settles in you now, and you have an awful feeling that something bad is about to happen. After his episode from the night before…

You run out the bathroom, the first to start looking for Will.

-

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[wannab-urs]

Build Me Up, Buttercup | Professor!Joel Miller x Student!Reader

Summary: Reader confronts Dr. Miller about her grade in his class.

Warnings: Not much yet. Reader is of legal age, no less than 22 but not specified, she's about to graduate college. She’s an English major. This is grumpy x grumpy. Lots of snark, eyerolling, etc. Not-Quite-Enemies to Lovers. And no she doesn’t blow him to get a better grade! (I would, but reader is classy). 

Word Count: 1.1k

Why Do You Build Me Up

(Buttercup)

Dr. Miller’s Foundations of Architecture class was supposed to be a fun elective for you. You could learn a little more about architecture, something that has always been a mild interest for you. You like pretty buildings and you think it’s a cool subject. It’s your last semester of college and you deserve to take something fun to fill in that last elective requirement. 

You certainly were not supposed to fail the fucking class.

“He’s so rude, Cooper,”  you tell your friend. Coop looks up at you over their laptop, red curls springing in every direction and glasses sitting on the tip of their nose. They’re feigning interest while they hammer away at some graphic design assignment.

“One time he made a guy who said he liked 432 Park Ave leave the class. Like just kicked him out for the rest of the day! I mean that building is awful, but still!” Coop heaves a sigh and shuts their laptop. 

“Is this that hot professor you told me about or is it the one who always wears really weird outfits?” 

“No! The weird outfits guy is my Chaucer professor,” you choose to ignore the first half of that question. “I have words for him too, actually. He keeps-”

“Focus! Why are you failing Arc?” 

“His essays are insane! Like, this is not English class, my guy, why are you grading me so hard? I’m literally an English major! You’d think my writing would be more than acceptable for a freshman level class.” 

He had given you a D on your paper about gothic architecture. You’d chosen to write about the Santa Maria del Fiore in Italy and he took off THREE letter grades because they finished the construction in the neo-gothic style… which you had made a whole section of your paper about. It’s perfectly valid. It’s not like he really gave you much to go on. 

“Did you follow the prompt? Sometimes your brain takes you places the question didn’t exactly call for…” they give you a knowing look. 

“This isn’t a fanfic writing challenge, Coop, I can follow a damn prompt. He doesn’t give us anything to go on at all for these essays! Or for anything else, really.” 

He is the least verbose professor you have ever had. It’s honestly kind of refreshing for a man to not love the sound of his own voice, but you’re also paying him to teach you something. 

“The essay prompt was literally ‘Gothic Architecture’ and the guidelines were ‘12 pages, double spaced, due March 19th.’" You drop your voice into its lowest register, mimicking Dr. Miller's deep baritone. "And that’s what I wrote!” Someone shushes you from behind a bookshelf. You’re getting a little over excited, borderline yelling in the library about this infuriating man.

“Have you tried going to his office hours?” God why are they always so reasonable?

“Have you tried going to his office hours… No. I have not. He’s rude, remember?” 

“Just try it! What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“He could drop my paper down to an F.”

“And you could report him for unfair grading practices. Go. Shoo,” Coop starts pushing your books toward your bag. 

“Fiiiiiine,” you relent.

Twenty minutes later you find yourself standing in the doorway of his office. Dr. Miller is sitting behind a large wooden desk. It’s very neat, the only things on it a computer, a picture frame turned away from you, and a stack of books. Dr. Miller has one of the books open and is writing something in a notebook, brow furrowed and tongue poking out between his lips. 

“Dr. Miller?” you ask hesitantly. 

He doesn’t look up from his work, just lifts a hand vaguely in your direction for a second and keeps writing. You roll your eyes and look around the office. There are bookshelves lining the walls with architecture textbooks in neat rows. A few covers of Architectural Digest are framed on the wall. Is he in those?

Your eyes land back on him. He’s wearing a dark grey Fleetwood Mac shirt that looks old as hell. The collar is stretched, revealing a bit of his chest. Your eyes trace a line up the column of this throat… He has a nice neck. 

You had called him your hot professor at the beginning of the semester, regardless of how you felt about him now. There’s just something about that fluffy bed head he always has, like he couldn’t be bothered to run a comb through it. And the scruffy beard laced with grey he doesn’t seem keen on trimming. And the way his mustache frames his pouty lips. And his prominent nose that looks straight out of a painting. And okay that’s enough. 

“Dr. Miller, I need to talk to you.” 

“M’busy,” he mumbles out, still not looking up from the textbook. 

“Okay, well it’s your office hours, so technically you have to talk to me.” 

“Technically, little miss, I don’t have to do anything.”

“Excuse me? Let’s not speak to grown women like they’re children, sir.” Is he fucking for real right now?

He closes his notebook and looks at you for the first time since you walked in. Probably the first time all semester. He kind of pauses when he sees you, hopefully realizing he isn’t talking to a freshman. It wouldn’t make the little nickname okay, but it would make more sense at least. 

He looks you up and down and his jaw ticks, “Sit.” His eyes flick to the chair in front of his desk. You drop your bag on the floor and slide into the seat. “So. What can I help you with?”

You take a deep breath. “You gave me a D on my last paper.” 

He just stares at you. 

“And considering our prompt was all of 8 words, I think- I know I met the requirements and that I did a good job. It was thoroughly researched, structured well, copy and content edited, and turned in 2 days before deadline. I would like an explanation-” 

“Enough,” he cuts you off. “I don’t have to justify my gradin’ decisions to you.” 

You let out a frustrated puff of air. This man drives you insane. “Dr. Miller, I’m a senior. I took this class to fulfill an elective requirement and because I like architecture. I would like to understand what is so egregious about my writing that you would have me fail a class in my last semester of college.” 

He considers you for a moment, meeting your eyes. He lowers his brow, screws up his mouth from side to side, like he’s thinking hard about something. “I’ll reread it.” 

Not I’ll reconsider your grade, but at least it’s something. “Thank you.” You grab your bag, moving to leave, and he stops you. 

“Wait!” You pause, arching an eyebrow. “What was your name again?” He doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. 

“Seriously? I’ve been in your class since January. Figure it out.” 

You storm out, slamming the door behind you.  

A/N: This will be my first series! I'm really excited to try some actual characterization and plot, which I've never really played around with before. Constructive criticism in my DMs is always appreciated <3

Tag List: @beskarandblasters, @cutesyscreenname, @atinylittlepain, @wednesdayday, @whoiscaroline, @goldenhxurs, @northernwindd, @djarinxore, @worhols, @amanitacowboy, @silkiers, @4ueijos, @livinxdeadxgrl, @serenaxpedro, @huffle-punk, @elvn011, @thepriceofpepper, @lexic-22, @sunshinebtrfly, @strang3lov3, @virgogaia

#joel miller #joel miller fics #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #Joel Miller AU #Professor!Joel #Professor!Joel Miller

[luke-hughes43]

Just Friends | edwards x Luke!twin

Here is the Ethan fic, hope you enjoy!

Part 2 | Insta Edit

~You are Luke Hughes’s twin sister and play hockey and softball at the University of Michigan. You are very close with Luke given that you are twins. You are best friends with teammate, Ethan Edwards. You and Ethan were always flirty with each other but were always strictly friends. Until, maybe you weren’t.~

*This is a part one of I don’t know yet. Takes place freshman year.*

October, 2021

Morgan’s POV

I’m currently hanging out with my brother and our teammates. We decided to have a movie night in Ethan and Mark’s dorm, since I had a projector and Ethan didn’t put anything on his wall. I put on Miracle because we couldn’t decide on anything and I figured that everyone would be happy, and they were.

Somehow, I wound up squished between Ethan and Mark. Ethan is quite literally my best friend. We do everything together and it’s been that way since we stepped foot on campus. When we’re not in class, at hockey, or me at softball (because I’m a two sport athlete) we’re always together. 

Ethan put his arm around me and pulled me closer to him. This was a common thing we did. Me and Ethan are just friends though. I lean my head against his shoulder because I’m starting to get tired. I had 6 am weights for softball on top of three classes and hockey practice. This was a regular thing for me. I feel Ethan kiss my head (something that was also a common thing between us) and say, “Go to sleep, you had a long day. I’ll wake you when the movie is over and walk you back. Just close your eyes morgs.”

I nod and listen to him. I don’t really remember falling asleep but I remember hearing a camera click and someone that sounds like Dylan say, “They’re cute. Are we sure that they are just friends?”

“Yes. Morgan would’ve told me if she had a boyfriend. I’d know anyways, we’re twins remember.” Luke said in a ‘duh’ tone.

Mark comments. “And Ethan would’ve mentioned it. He talks about her a lot so it would’ve come up.”

“And neither Sarah or McKenna have mentioned it. So they’re just friends Dylan. Just drop it dude. Should we wake them?”

“Nah. She can stay. He’ll walk her home in the morning so it’s fine. She had a long day so let’s not disturb her. You guys should get some sleep too.” Next thing I know, I feel Ethan’s arms tighten around me and I drift back to sleep. 

January, 2022

Morgan’s POV

Now that the spring semester has started, my days have become longer as the softball team is in preseason mode. I have to rearrange my entire schedule to accommodate lift, two practices, 5 classes and games. It’s stressing me out. Hutch is letting me do individual practice with a coach. It’s pissing a lot of my teammates off because they think I’m slacking off when I’m doing double the work. They have started being bitches to me and it pisses me off.

I taught Ethan how to soft toss so that I could get BP in everyday. He’s actually pretty good at it. He throws to me every time I ask and I could not be more grateful. We’re at the cages right now since I had a break in my day. He says, “Three more mego. Then can we be done? I have homework and we have practice at 4.”

“Only if they are good ones.”

“Ok Ms. Perfectionist.” He says with attitude. He throws them and I hit all three of them perfectly to the top right corner of the cage. I put my bat down and we pick the balls up. I turn to Ethan who’s holding the bucket, and say, “Can we go to chipotle or something? I haven’t eaten today.”

“Seriously? It’s 12:30 and you had six am lift on top of back to back classes. And we have practice today.”

“I know that Ethan. I really don’t need you telling me what my schedule is. You sound like Luke.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just worried. You need to take care of yourself morgs.”

“Ethan, I’m fine. Can we just pick these up and get food?”

“Yea. And I’m buying your lunch.”

“Ethan…”

“Not up for debate. Just help me pick these up.” I laugh and we pick the rest of them up before we head to Ethan’s car and to chipotle. He stays true to his word and buys me lunch despite me protesting. A few of the girls from the team come in and see me with Ethan. Jess comments, “Oh, little miss hockey player is here. Must be blowing off practice again. Wish I could skip like that.”

“Oh and she’s with her little boyfriend. How cute? Wonder what he thinks of her skipping practice all the time.” Sierra says. Hearing that pisses me off. I don’t know why but it just does. I say, “can we go?” Ethan says, “yea. Are you ok?” I shake my head no and he says, “Ok. Let’s go then, yea?”

I nod and he holds my hand and leads me out to the car but we don’t get in it. He pulls me in for a hug and I relax under his touch. I think I’m developing feelings for him and it scares me. Ethan rubs my back and whispers, “Hey, it’s ok. Morgs, you’re ok.”

He kisses my head and I pull away no longer wanted to hit something. I wipe the tears that I apparently shed. He forces me to look at him and he asks, “What happened back there? I’ve never seen you mad like that before.”

“I told you about the softball team basically hating me because of me doing individual practices right?” He nods so I continue, “Well, they’ve been making comments and shit. I usually use it as motivation but it’s been getting to my head. Only Luke knows. He’s the only one I wanted to know. And now you.”

“So then what just happened?”

“Two of the girls in there were on the team and made comments about how I must be skipping practice again and how I’m with my little boyfriend as they refer to you as and said something about what you must think about me skipping practice. That’s not even the worst thing that’s been said. I’m just done with it, all of it Ethan. Sometimes I wish I just played hockey and never played softball in the first place. I can’t keep doing this, it doesn’t feel worth it anymore Eddy.” 

He pulls me back in for a hug and he says, “you know that they aren’t right meg. You are the hardest working person I’ve ever met. It takes real talent, skill, dedication, and sacrifice to play two division one sports like you’re doing. We’re extremely proud of you. Luke for damn sure is. He brags about you when you’re not around. I’m proud of you too. Don’t let them get in your head. I know it sucks. But you’ve worked so hard for this. Hutch knows that, she knows knows that your putting in double the work. It’s gonna pay off. And I’ll be at every damn game, cheering the loudest for number 6 who is my best friend in whole fucking world.”

I mutter, “thank you.” We pull away and head back to school so try and get homework done before practice. I mean we are students too. I hope he’s right and that everything will pay off in the end.

April, 2022

Morgan’s POV

Today is our rivalry game against State. The whole hockey team is here. I’m excited. Ever since our season ended, they’ve been at every home game and even traveled when we played State at State. These boys really do have my back and I love them for it.

Ethan was right, I got this. Bottom of the seventh, tied at 0, two outs. I get down to my last strike. The pitcher winds up and I get my bat on the ball, sending it over the fence, to win the game. As I’m rounding first base, I hear from the stands, “That’s my best friend right there. WOO! Go blue!”

I shake my head at my Ethan. I can hear Luke too, “That’s my twin right there. Hell yea morg! Go blue!” I turn and see Ethan and Luke chest bump. God I hate them sometimes. But they pulled up like they promised so I deal with it. I approach third base and get ready to high-five Hutch as I jog by. Literally the whole hockey team is on their feet cheering for me especially since we just beat State.

“That’s our girl.” I hear from Nolan Moyle.

“WOO! That’s my girl right there! Number 6 on the field, number 1 in my heart! I love you morgs!” I hear from Ethan fucking Edwards. Oh my god. Ethan is definitely drunk. I laugh it off and get greeted by the team. They're happy but I think it’s because we won, not because I hit a walk off. 

It sucks because straight up only like 6 girls like me. Alex, McKenna, Audrey, Kaylee, Sarah, and Ella. Alex is transferring and using her 5th year somewhere else so I’m losing one of my girls. It’s tough but I got my boys.

After we shake hands and everything, I head to the locker room and grab my backpack. I usually just change at the house after games. I go out to all of the boys waiting for me. Ethan comes running over and engulfs me in a huge hug. He reeks of beer. He says, “I’m so proud of you.”

“Party at my house at 9 morgan. Invite whoever. We’re celebrating.” J Bone says. J Bone and his parties. I nod and text my girls and tell them. I ask them not to tell the other girls because I wanted to drink and get drunk tonight. 

*At J Bone’s*

I walk in and everybody cheers for me. I immediately get a drink put in my hand by the bone man himself. J Bone stands up by the speakers and. He says, “Alright, everybody shut up for a sec. For those who don’t know, our girl Morgan Hughes, is a two sport athlete. She dominates on the ice for us and kicks ass on the softball field. Today she hit a walk off homerun to beat State. So this is for her. A toast to our superstar. To Morgan!”

“To Morgan!” Everyone toasts me, making me blush. He gets down and turns the music back on. I immediately down my drink and get another before finding my girls. I get greeted in a hug by them. McKenna says, “Ethan is staring.” 

“He’s staring at you with heart eyes.” Alex says.

“He’s my best friend. He’s also drunk and probably just horny. Let’s not talk about Ethan.” I say.

“As you wish.” Audrey says. We start dancing together. After about two hours, I’m like 7 or 8 in and drunk as fuck. I feel hands go on my hips and someone behind me. I start dancing on them. I’m feeling extra confident, probably the booze. Oh I’m definitely not gonna remember any of this tomorrow. I turn and see my best friend, Ethan Edwards. Neither of us have a problem with this since we’ve always been flirty with each other. We stay like that for a bit before Ethan whispers, “I’m gonna get another, do you want one?”

“Yes please.” I say and kiss his cheek. I could smell the alcohol on him. I also say, “I’m gonna go find Luke while I can still kinda walk.”

“Ok. Just stay there until I come with your drink.” He says kissing my cheek this time. I stumble through the house to find my brother talking with J Bone, Chic, Moyle, Keato, and Grano. I stumble into him saying, “Lukey!” He grabs me smiling, “Morgy. Having fun?”

“Fuck yea. J Bone, your a g man. Sick fucking party.” I say slurring my words. The guys laugh. J Bone says, “Thanks lady Hughes. How many have you had?”

“Uh, I can’t count that high J Bone. Ethan went to get me another one.”

Moyle says, “Oh boy. Good to know.”

“Was he drunk at my game? He seemed it.” I asked. Luke laughs and says,“Yes. You’re staying at my house tonight by the way. You have no choice.”

I say, “Ok.” “You doing ok?” He asks being a little concerned. I nod, “I’m doing great. Has Ethan been drinking all day?” Luke laughs, “Oh yea. He started when he got out of class. I’ve never seen him drink this much.”

“Oh. Can I tell you a secret? But you have to promise not to tell Ethan.” I say. He looks at me smiling, “Twin promise.”

“Boys, block your ears. Lukey’s ears only.” They laugh and then block their ears. I pull Luke down closer to me since he’s so fucking tall and whisper in his ear, “I’m in love with Ethan.”

“I knew that morgy. It’s obvious. You just play it off as best friends. But you’re both drunk so make a move. You both won’t remember so no harm no foul.”

“This is why your my favorite. Your so smart.”

“Glad I can help.” He taps J Bone and they unplug their ears. I stumble over my own feet and Moyle grabs me before I fall. “Woah, you ok lady Hughes?”

“I’m fucking wonderful Moyle. We beat State, there’s no reason to not be ok.”

They all laugh and I hug Luke. He wraps one arm around me to keep me from falling over. Ethan eventually finds us and hands me my drink. I say, “Oh yay! You just became my favorite. Sorry not sorry Luke.” Ethans wraps an arm around me pulling me into him. I smile and say, “Let’s dance Ethan.” We walk off towards the dance floor. 

Luke’s POV

I use Morgan going off with Ethan as my opportunity to make a move on McKenna. We’ve been flirting for a few months but I really like her and want her to be my girl. 

I see her dancing with the girls so I go up behind McKenna and whisper in her ear, “Hey baby.” and then kiss her cheek. She turns and smiles at me. “Hey lukey. Finally come to hit the dance floor?”

“Just for you baby.” I say a smirk and pull her close to me.

I grab her hips to dance along with her. She looks up and at me smiles. She reaches up and runs her fingers through my hair. I look down at her with a smirk, “Can I kiss you McKenna?” She nods and I lean in to kiss her.

Morgan’s POV

I look to my right while dancing with Ethan and see Luke kissing McKenna. What the fuck? She’s my best friend. A heads up would’ve been nice. I point it out to Ethan, “He’s kissing her. She’s my best friend.”

“So then kiss his.”

“I am not kissing Dylan.”

“I meant me morgs.”

“Oh. ok.” He leans in and kisses me. I have a feeling that we are both so drunk that we aren’t gonna remember this in the morning. I can taste the beer on his lips. Everything is so fuzzy right now, but I think that’s the alcohol. I don’t remember us stopping but somehow I’m in Luke’s car and cuddled into Ethan’s side in the back while McKenna is in the front seat holding luke’s hand. I’m cold, tired, drunk. “Ethan I’m cold.”

“I know baby. We’re almost at the house. I’ll give you a sweatshirt to sleep in.”

“Thank you. Can I stay with you tonight?” I plead.

“Yea.” Luke pulls into the driveway and has to help us both inside. Ethan almost falls over getting out which is problematic to say the least. I do fall over getting out. “Ow. Ethan why’d you let me fall?”

“I tried baby.”

“No you didn’t. Neither did you Luke, your a bad brother.”

“Morgan, come on. Your drunk and it’s cold. You need to get to bed.” He says trying to get me up. Ethan comes over and tries to help too. I swat their hands away and try to get up myself. I say, “I can take care of myself. And I’m not that drunk.”

“Morgan, seriously. Stop being difficult.”

“I can take care of myself Luke. Just because we’re twins doesn’t mean I need you every second of every day. I’m 18. I don’t need you anymore.”

“Stop being fucking difficult Morgan. Just let us fucking help you. You’re black out drunk right now and don’t know what your doing. Stop being a stubborn bitch, shut up, and just let us fucking help.” He snaps at me. He’s never snapped at me like that. I stand up and lean against Ethan. I snap back at Luke, “Fuck you Luke. Go to hell. Don’t talk to me like that.”

Ethan and I stumble our way up to Ethan’s room. He hands me a sweatshirt and I change for bed. I’ll deal with makeup later. “Hey Ethan?” He looks at me with a raised eyebrow. I kiss him one last time for the night and say, “Good night.”

“Good night.” We climb into bed and drift off to sleep.

I wake up the next morning and I’m in Ethan’s sweatshirt and cuddled into Ethan. I look under the covers and check that we are both wearing clothes which is a relief but I don’t remember anything from last night. I don’t even remember getting here. What the fuck happened last night?

I hear Ethan moving next to me, “Why do I feel like I was hit by a bus?”

“I don’t know. Last thing I remember is being at J Bone’s with McKenna and the girls. What do you remember?” I say rubbing my eyes. 

“I remember your brother scolding me for pregaming your game. And I remember your homerun. After that, couldn’t tell you.”

We laugh and then drag ourselves downstairs. I see Luke sitting on the couch watch tv with McKenna. When the fuck did she get here? Luke hears us and says, “Morning. Tylenol is on the counter.”

“Indoor voices.” I say rubbing my temple trying to sooth the headache. I grab the Tylenol and chug some gatorade. Ethan does the same and we both feel like death. I groan and lean against him hugging him. He hugs me back and asks Luke, “What happened last night? Neither of us remember anything.”

“Well, eddy you blacked out at like five from your day drinking. You guys spent most of J Bone’s party with each other. We had eyes on you since you both were blacked out. I was sober and drove home. You guys fell asleep within a half hour of being home.”

I zoned out like halfway through Luke talking. I need food or I’m gonna puke. I use ethan’s chest to hide the light because of my headache. I groan and say, “I’m starving. Can we get food?”

“Yea. I’ll drive. I’m good to drive I promise.”

“Ok.” We got into his car and drove off the get breakfast. He paid for mine, like he usually does no matter my protests. And we head back to the house. I take it nothing happened last night because Luke would’ve said something. We go to Ethan’s room and I cuddle into him to sleep this hangover off.

At least I can chalk up anything I did last night to being drunk. I’m just hoping that I didn’t blurt out that I’m in love with him.

(I have a part 2 ready and currently working on part 3 if anyone's interested)

#umich hockey #ethan edwards #new jersey devils #ethan edwards imagine #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards x Luke!twin #hockey

[soranihimawari]

Needle & Thread

An Azumane Asahi x reader short

Word count: 2.2k+

Rating:AAF (azumane asahi fluff)

Warnings: none, a little ooc moments from Sawamura & Suga//unspecified gender!// fluff

I just wanted to say perhaps Azumane having a crush is something I’d love to read about every once in a while. Also, this is how I think he hypes himself up mentally when yn is around

All was well in the home economics lecture hall at the community college you were attending this semester. The fashion course you had signed up for had been advertised as an introductory one and though you may have been one of the youngest designers among your peers, yet your desk mate was another student definitely from another part of your city.

You were always intrigued by both his designs as much as he was enamored with your use of unique materials when you had much simpler projects due. Perhaps it was your use of felt and wirework that inspired him to create an ornate jewelry set for that week and maybe he inspired you to create a three piece suit in hunter green and navy. You each had received praise from both your peers as well as the professor who hummed with a curt smile during the review.

Now, as the chimes on campus begin their late night tune to announce the hour, you settle into your seat and wonder about the young man whose seat has remained vacant for the second week in a row. It’s not like him to be absent, you wonder. Yet you recall him mentioning his volleyball team had won all necessary matches in their prefecture. Your professor drones on with the attendance list since art courses, especially design ones at that, where time is of the essence. Your sketchbook along with your personal tablet holds the keys of the past designs you had breathed into existence. As your attention is drawn back to the front of the classroom’s whiteboard, a singular word was written there: BIRDS.

The hell are we supposed to do with this? You think. Funnily enough, as you were zoning out, your hand had already picked up the stylus and you had already begun making several shapes that resembled crows’ feathers. The fact you remembered your deskmate had a little white crow plush on his sewing fabric bag to show ‘school pride’ must have been the silver lining when you continued to sketch a few more key components for the dress you will attempt to create.

An hour goes by and pretty soon you had a more refined sketch of the completed outfit. Your professor stops by your desk as you add a few more details thus tapping their index finger on the desk to announce their presence. You slower your stylus strokes of color to give your professor your undivided attention.

“Fascinating design as always,” they say.

“Thanks,” you reply. Holding up your tablet, you give a brief summary of the birds you chose to showcase with the completion of the project.

“Hmm… a crow and a pheasant, huh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking maybe adding some hints of sapphire satin or even amethyst tulle to the bodice…”

“Given your design, I suggest a more pliable fabric, but if sophisticated chic is what you were aiming for, try playing with nylon and pleather fabrics for those details,” was their advice.

You nod.

“By the way, y/n,” the professor pauses before moving on to the next workstation. “I heard Azumane-san’s team won against Inarizaki today. You ought to text him later.”

You feel the blush creeping up the back of your neck as you realize your professor’s intention on feeding you that intel. Your brain seems to have short circuited as you hear their voice give other advice a few work stations ahead. Nervously swallowing the pooled saliva in your mouth, you feign a cough as you shake your head side to side to reset your focus.

Class wraps up about twenty or so minutes later. On the train ride home, you decide to search the intramural results. There in the black white newspaper sports pages for the Tokyo City News you see the results from today’s match. You swipe that article away and immediately open your text message chain with Azumane, A.

It’s forty-five minutes post the Karasuno coaches’ “Light’s Out” call when suddenly Azumane’s phone lights up with your name flashing across the screen. He immediately picks up though the others the ace shares the room with suddenly scramble to take possession of his phone.

“Oh ho? Is that text from the illustrious y/n?” Sugawara wriggles his eyebrow.

“Or is it from your mom this time reminding you to buy her a souvenir?” Sawamura teases in a light hearted tone.

The fact Sugawara brings up your name so casually causes Azumane’s ears to sort of turn a magenta hue.

“And so what if it’s y/n?”

He unlocks his phone to read the texts you sent him. The first was fine:

-Y/L/N, Y. (23:13): Professor Z told me you had a game today. Missed having you in class tonight. Congrats on winning against Inarizaki! :]

His phone vibrates in his hands again after staring at your text for about five more minutes. There is something about your cheerful demeanor radiating over there words you sent that make Azumane’s face flush—perhaps when he returns to class he’d muster up the courage to ask you to walk home together. Maybe even pick up some hot cocoa at the combini near the train station by the college.

-Y/L/N, Y. (23:25): Been home for about an hour or so now. You must be tired. Is it too late to call?

“So, before you mentally shut down for the night Asahi,” Sugawara sits up on his mat with his arms crossed over his chest. “What did your crush say this time?”

“Suga!” Sawamura used his eldest sibling's tone this time thus forcing a playful yet sincere apology to come from the vice captain. “Ya can’t just blurt out facts like that aloud. I mean sure our Asahi is tall, devilishly handsome, and our charming ace finally has someone who caught his eye…”

“Y/N w-wants to call me,” Azumane’s voice is a mixture of excitement and nerves. It’s eerily similar to the first time he attended practice again in the dingy gym back on campus, yet glancing back to the way he was then versus now. He slides his phone in his pajamas pocket while reaching for his hoodie at the foot of his bed.

With an abrupt and politely uttered, “I’m headed out for a bit.” Azumane grabs his hoodie and slides the balcony door open. He slips on a pair on house slippers as well. Tokyo and the neighborhood they’re staying in seems to glow in the wintery haze. Once the door is closed behind him, Azumane taps his reply. He presses the green arrow only to be greeted with a delivered message under his reply. A couple minutes go by as the winter wind whistles through the barren tree branches in surrounding the hoteru when a familiar ringtone designated just for you reaches his ears.

Meanwhile, Sugawara and Sawamura updates the rest of the team of their ace’s latest installment rightfully dubbed by Yamaguchi: ‘love but make it fashion’. Even Kiyoko and Hitoka-chan were included in this team chat. Though by now most of the team had begun to drift off one by one prior to Azumane dialing your number.

Azumane breathes your name with a visible puff of air.

“Asahi,” there’s a cheerful register in your tired voice. It’s like a warm invitation to stay awake for a little while longer. “I’m surprised you’re still awake at this hour. Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”

“Yeah, but I figured you could fill me in on what I missed in class today?”

“Oh,” you sound a bit disappointed. “Professor’s word today was BIRDS. It’s the theme for the next project.”

“Ah, I see.”

You hum into the receiver. “You played a really great game today. Saw some highlights on the late night sports recap on t.v. Almost makes me want to ditch classes tomorrow and cheer your team on, haha.”

He chuckles after regaining his composure because surely you’re flirting with him right now, yes? Absolutely.

“We play Nekoma next.”

You suppose it’s your turn to be a bit bold. A small smile tugs at your lips. You hear the wind whistling in the background.

“Is that an invitation I heard from my dear deskmate?”

“Yes.”

He hears you struggle with the sheets as you sit up bolt straight in your bed. A soft thud he imagines came from you clumsily hitting the back of your head on the wall by accident and a curse escapes your lips as you feel your heart beat increase.

“Smooth ass motherfucker,” you mutter through gritted teeth. “When do you play?”

Azumane on the other side leans against the railing trying to suppress his laughter. A few more minutes go by before your call ends with an open ended promise of attending the match in a few days time.

Come the morning, you awake with a bit of a headache. Your phone rests charging by the end table in your room along with a glass of water your parent typically leave behind before reporting for work. Across your bed on the wall located next to your computer desk is a rip off calendar themed with Chococat imagery. You realize you forgot to tear it off the night before, so as you mentally replay the conversation you had with your fashion course classmate, you hum blissfully to yourself until you pick up your phone with wide eyes.

“Oh shit!” you whisper yell into the air. “No way! It can’t be that late. Right? Arugh!”

Kicking off your sheets and tearing off the date off the calendar, you rush into the hallway to wash your face in the guest bathroom of your residence. Afterwards, you decide to dress rather quickly opting for the jeans and crew neck sweater along with a beanie to keep your ears warm when you leave. You knew attempting a day trip to Tokyo would be an ambitious endeavor, but if your parent can do it, so can you. You send a text quickly after sorting out a travel drawstring backpack complete with bottles of water, a few almond butter and jam sandwiches, your wireless headphones, your Canon AE-1 35mm camera, and external battery pack.

Leaving a note behind on the kitchen counter for your parent in case they would eventually blow up your phone like the first and last time you left for a day trip (to go shopping with materials at the beginning of the semester-long course) with a girl friend from your school.

The total amount of travel time to reach Tokyo, more specifically the sports arenas where the Intramural Spring Tournament for Volleyball was held, had been estimated to be a solid ninety-minute commute via trains. Apparently luck was on your side since most trains had been running on time. Renewing and purchasing the student monthly pass at the automated ticket kiosk had been a breeze and now you stand on the designated platform; you wonder if this rush of excitement and nerves will be as close as you’d ever feel to what Azumane felt when he (and by extension his team) walks on to the court. Once you arrive at your final stop (since your trip included two transfer trains), you walk off the up escalator and breathe the bustling capital city warming air. You see a sign for the local coffee haus: within a matter of fifteen minutes, you leave with a warmed bagel in a small brown bag and a cup of coffee. You follow a few cheerful students who came to cheer on their classmates; you figure you’re headed in the right direction when you bump into a voluptuous blonde who seems to have a very unique outfit despite the weather.

“Whoops, sorry miss,” you apologize as politely as you could.

The blonde raises an eyebrow at you as if to challenge you, then something changes in her demeanor as she extends her hand to you.

“You came to watch Karasuno beat Nekoma, right?”

You sip your coffee and nod. The bag with your bagel crinkles in your other hand.

“C’mon, I’ll take you to the arena where they’re playing. I’m gonna go cheer for my little brother,” she adds.

You bite into your bagel quickly before she calls out over her shoulder, “Tanaka Saeko. Call me Saeko-nei.”

“Y/L/N.”

The walk to the arena doors isn’t that far, nor is it too long. Saeko fills you in on what you had missed since the tournament began (or rather when she arrived with a few of the neighborhood ex-volleyball club members) to formulate the Karasuno cheer club. She had dubbed themselves that considering how the school was once considered powerhouse.

“Flightless crows?” you continue eating your bagel while pondering upon the insulting title. Saeko points to the banner hanging over the railing with the team’s motto: FLY. You crumple the now empty bag and toss it in the next trash bin while you still sip your beverage.

“Crows aren’t flightless creatures,” you mention to Saeko when she joins you in the second row of the bleachers. “They’re quite intelligent. Besides, a flock is known as a murder. How flightless were they?”

For once, the blonde remains quiet. She has a pensive look to her face, so much so that when other members of the neighborhood alumni come to join you two, one of them asks Saeko who you are.

“Oh, this is Y/L/N-san. They sort of bumped into me on the street on the way here, past the bakery. Mentioned they wanted to watch the match.”

“So you just tagged along?” the man with glasses and a kind smile asks. “Y’ know you shouldn’t really talk to strangers, haha.”

You shrug, mentioning that if it weren’t for his blonde friend you’d be even more lost and would probably be at the arena when a good chunk of the matches were done for the day. The man nods as he adjusts his glasses.

“I wanted to see what a classmate of mine does with his spare time. Attending fashion courses isn't cheap either,” you stick with the truth. “Besides, I go to a different school; one where a few of our sports team clubs were cut due to lack of funding. Unfortunately volleyball was one of them.”

“That’s awful, sorry to hear that,” the man continues. He turns to see Saeko busy conversing with another alum along with the rest of the drum line. “You want to sit here to stay a in the next section over? You might see your friend better from there.”

He points to the front row a few meters away close to the railing. It’s close enough to the side of the net where you would presume Azumane’s team would play.

Meanwhile, in the locker room provided for Karasuno today, an entirely different conversation was happening.

“Did Y/L/N contact you?” Nishinoya wonders.

“You better not freeze out there if you see ‘em,” Sawamura teases.

On the other side of the bench, two first years are having another tussle of words as well that had little and or nothing to do with trying to Azumane to calm down.

“Quit it boke!”

“You’re going to break my brain even more Bakayama!”

Azumane for the life of him decides to silence the room and his fellow teammates with a sharp squeak of confusion in a poor attempt to mask his incoming text tone. Funnily enough, though the majority of the club had already changed into their traditional ebony uniforms, hearing their ace squeak made them shut up rather quickly.

-Y/L/N, Y. (10:59): do your best. I know you and your team deserve to win, Azumane-san. Win or lose, you’re still an ace. [ : oh! And a damned good designer.

A strange sense of calm comes over Azumane when his shoulder receives a gentle yet affirming squeeze by Kiyoko who just nods with a small smile. Surely everyone knows of you, but considering how their friend currently stares at his sent reply to your message with a mere thumbs up emoji accompanied by a ‘Thenks’ line a child on the morning of their birthday, they knew they might need to cover for him for the first few plays of the match.

Lo and behold the telecasters begin their normal routine checks not too far from the court you’re standing above. The anchor men are having their microphones hooked on their lapels when a different chime to announce the hour goes off. You watch as both teams enter the court with to begin their warmup routines. It doesn’t take too long for you to open your bag to pull out your camera and watch as a few members of your classmate’s team take to the air to hit the airborne ball back over the net. Others on both sides of the court continue with their stretches. You snap a few photos here and there to test out the original settings, making adjustments as needed.

The game begins with a shrill call of a whistle. You hear the team chant and when you lower your camera for a split second, the player in the black jersey with a bright “2” on the front grabs Azumane’s attention; with a swift nod in your direction, your eyes meet briefly.

“Holy shit,” the ace who rarely curses suddenly becomes nervous all over again.

You just mouth out a quick “focus & excel,” with a raised fist.

And for once in his young adult life, Azumane Asahi chooses to embody the very definition of those words.

“Ready?” Sawamura asks him with a smirk.

“Let’s play,” Azumane chuckles preparing to receive the first serve of the match.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #sora scrbbles 2023 #azumane asahi x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff

[starseneyes]

Chenford REWIND - Lucy Chen / Tim Bradford - The Rookie - Season 3 Ep 1, 2 & 3

Season 3 has a totally different rhythm for Tim and Lucy. We're in the last month or so of Tim training Lucy show-wise, and they're definitely friends at this point. We can feel the natural rhythm they've built between them.

I really wanted to string these three episodes together because they're kind of one thought springing from Lucy's post-DOD trauma. I'll get into why once we're past the "Keep Reading" barrier.

SPOILER ALERT: I'm going to spoil these episodes and possibly everything that has come before. Yes, I spend a lot of time on Chenford, but there are also specific Lucy/Tim scenes I focus on because Chenford is nothing without these two separate, beautiful characters. I do try to write without too much foreknowledge of what comes after these episodes.

Are we all clear on what to expect here? Huzzah! Time to dive in.

Consequences

"Look, at the end of the day, we only think we know other people. I learned that the hard way."

Look, Tim's been burned. And burned. And burned. Almost everyone he has ever trusted let him down, shut him out, or manipulated him in some way.

His view may be jaded, but it's also informed by his own life experiences. The one time he really chose to trust was with Isabel... and that fell apart, too.

But Lucy knows Nolan. And she trusts her gut that Nolan is still the same guy today that he was before.

"Drive up to Chowchilla and retrieve the security footage from Nolan's meeting with Rosalind Dyer yesterday."

The second Rosalind's name hits his ears, Tim's eyes flash to Lucy, worry swimming in them as he gazes upon her. Lucy feels that shift as she looks up at him.

Tim's a tough guy, but he knows what it is to have to face the monsters down. He had to live with his. So, the last thing he wants to do is put Lucy in a position where she will be hurt, again.

"Sir, I'm not sure we're the right team for that assignment given Chen's history with Rosalind Dyer." "What assignment?" "He wants us to get the surveillance tape from Nolan's meeting with Rosalind yesterday." "What the hell was he doing meeting with Rosalind?"

It gives me special pleasure that they call Rosalind by her first name.

Back at my university, we had an unspoken rule in the Communications department. If you liked a professor, they were called by their last name in conversation outside of class. If you hated them, first name only.

And there was one teacher we all called by his first name. He was rude, condescending, misogynistic, tried to trick his students on tests, and hated me because I was the first person to ace one of his tests (and I did it on 2/3 that semester).

Demons don't deserve the courtesy of a last name. Rosalind absolutely qualifies.

"It's your call, Bradford. You're her TO. I trust your judgement." "Tim, it's not a problem."

Watch him watching her. Because when it comes to Lucy and this particular subject, he still questions his judgment. But he trusts hers.

She holds his gaze. "I can do this," it says. He finally agrees to the assignment.

"Now head back to the Shop while I get a statement from Rosalind." "What? No way." "It's for your own good."

They got this far, but Tim's still looking for ways to shield Lucy from this. And I doubt he'd do this for anyone else.

Look, we're nowhere near these two dancing the horizontal mambo on Lucy's too-rickety bed, but Tim has a special spot for Lucy by Season 3. It's not just because of DOD. It's because of everything they've been through.

Bit by bit, Lucy Chen has worn down Tim's walls, and he's let her in, bit by bit. Protecting her is just something he does, now.

"You have a personal connection." "So do you." "It's not the same."

Does she mean the case he worked? His connection in the search for Lucy? I've never quite known which she meant, because there are dozens of officers who worked Rosalind Dyer cases. I don't know if I'd call that "personal".

"If I can't handle talking to Rosalind while she's in a cage, I shouldn't be a cop."

And what can he say to that? The rational side agrees with her. But the side that wants nothing more than to protect her is screaming at him. And we all know which side TO Tim leans into. So, together they enter the lioness' den.

"You know, I am so impressed with you."

Rosalind barely acknowledges Tim once she locks onto Lucy Chen. It's been less than six months since Lucy's harrowing near-death experience at the hands of a practiced serial killer—a serial killer under the spell of the caged woman before her.

No, Rosalind wasn't the one placing her in that barrel. But it was her legacy, and Lucy Chen's defiant survival coupled with Caleb's death ended that legacy.

For Rosalind, Lucy will always be of special interest—the girl who refused to scream. Screams were the erotic fixation of the murderer, the source of his perverse pleasure. The panic that rose in the throats of his victims as they grappled with their impending death.

But Lucy Chen didn't scream. She sang. Lucy Chen didn't panic. She persevered. She lived.

"The way you handled what was obviously a very traumatic experience, it's inspiring." "Thanks. That means a lot coming from you." "Rawr. So defiant." "Let's stick to Nolan."

Tim's trying to keep things on track, and right now he's keeping himself in-check. Look, we know that Tim can turn it on the second he needs it—the energy that had him threatening a guy and slamming his head against a steering wheel.

But he's keeping it together because Lucy is keeping it together. He's feeding off of her energy. And much as this sucks, we all know Lucy can keep her head in the game.

"Just like you were when the lid came down on that barrel. You know, it must have driven Caleb crazy, denying him the fear that he desperately wanted to see in you." "How-" "Do I know that? You think the camera in the barrel was for Caleb?"

In the words of Malcolm Bright from Prodigal Son, "I have so many questions". Now, some of them are answered in this episode (secret phone in the wall), but I'm surprised neither of them questioned how she saw that video.

"Don't listen to her, Chen."

Tim's keeping it professional and clean. He's also trying not to show his hand.

Calling Lucy "Chen" at this point is a way to distance or maintain order. He calls her "Lucy" often enough, now, that we can tell it's a choice to call her Chen.

And the last thing you want to do is give a serial killer who loves mind games any hints about how you feel about anything or anyone. Emotions can get you killed.

"She's just playing mind games." "Oh, I am totally playing mind games. But I'm not lying."

She starts singing the song. Lucy's song. The one she sang to keep herself calm in the barrel. And it's a beautiful song that I've loved for years. But for Lucy it can never be just a beautiful song, again.

I have a song that I listen to whenever I'm feeling broken. Inner Light by Jay Chattaway. Listening to that song, I'm transported to every moment I've listened to it over the years... or when I hummed it for strength. And I simultaneously feel all the strength I've drawn from the clear call of the flute to the rising and falling strings.

Music is powerful. It can bond us to people and moments. And in the cold, grey room... the verse of a familiar song slices through Lucy's control and strength. She's literally back in that barrel, feeling all those feelings, again.

And that's too much for Tim.

"Knock it off."

He barks it, the veil of formality torn as the truth he's tried to conceal bursts forth—Lucy matters to Tim.

Not like a TO and Rookie, or even just friends, but as two people whose lives are enriched by the other in a way nobody else can touch. Not yet love, but soulmates, nonetheless.

Rosalind's attention has been locked on Lucy since the beginning of the conversation, but with three words, the monster shifts her gaze. She looks between the two of them, connecting the dots swiftly. There's a connection, here. There's something to exploit, here.

Tim just handed the monster a modicum of power, but he had to do it to break her spell over Lucy.

"Ah, the fierce protector."

Yes, he is. He didn't ask for it. He didn't go looking for it. But he was always a little protective of her (remember how he snatched Caleb's number away?), but it only intensified after DOD.

Lucy has seen Tim at his absolute worst, his most broken. And she didn't run away. She didn't give up on him. And he sure as hell isn't giving upon her. Not ever.

"We're done here. Let's go."

You can hear the emotion in his voice even though we're looking at Lucy on the screen. Lucy has tears in her eyes, and Rosalind put them there. The one thing Tim was worrying about happening happened and he didn't protect Lucy enough.

Lucy is right. She's a cop and she should be able to deal with a criminal in a cage. But Tim was also right. Lucy shouldn't have to be re-traumatized for a job.

Nyla often says that the job isn't worth your life. I don't think it's worth Lucy's peace of mind, either.

Tim glances back at Rosalind with contempt as he opens the door for Lucy. Oh, he hates that bitch. Me, too, Tim. Me, too.

"You were wrong earlier." "About anything in particular? Or just in a global sense."

First off, I want to talk about the growth here. He's willing to entertain the idea that he's wrong about something. TO Tim of Season 1 would have told her off, and Season 2 would have given her a glare. But Season 3-era TO Tim is willing to hear her out, and even asks to know where he went wrong.

Second, is Tim Bradford coming off a little flirty!? Season 3 is definitely the era of Lucy no longer fearing Tim and instead flirting with him. This feels like Tim's flirting a bit back and I kinda love it.

Let's be clear, this is harmless flirting at this point. They aren't flirting because they want to sneak into the back of the Shop and add their body fluids to the seat's history.

"You said 'at the end of the day we only think we know other people', but you're wrong." "Lucy-"

With no Rosalind, we're back to Lucy.

"No. When I was in that barrel, I knew you would find me. No matter what it took."

She. Knows. Him. And, damnit, he can't say she's wrong that she knew he'd try.

But even he didn't know he'd succeed. He didn't know he'd find her. In fact, he was terrified many times that day that he'd failed.

Lucy's the one with the steadfast faith. She believed that he would be okay in the Quarantine House, and she believed he would find her in the barrel. Her faith in him is so strange and magical considering what an ass he can be. It baffles him, sometimes, as much as it amazes.

"I found you because of your ring. Okay? You saved yourself. And I really hope what happened with Rosalind today doesn't screw with your head." "If it does, I'll deal with it."

Their secret. The truth that nobody knows but them. And I love that Tim credits her as much as it pains me that he refuses to credit himself. Because he still sees his perceived failing for her the night before, how he missed the signs that weren't there to tell him Caleb was a murderous psychopath.

Yes, it was a team effort to rescue her, but Tim was a huge part of it. And Lucy knew he would put everything he had into saving her.

As for the rest, he nods at her last statement that she'll deal with it. That works for him.

"And I know you'll help me."

Because. She. Knows. Him. So many times he's protested it when people point out the good in him. It's easier to keep up walls, to shield himself, to lock people out.

But Lucy's always been able to see through that. she knows who he is behind all that hurt. And that's what's truly terrifying about her, for him. Lucy has seen the worst of him, the worst year of his life. But she still sees who he really is, even when he can't see it himself.

"Uh, that's not really part of my job description." "MMhmm."

Look at that look she throws over her shoulder at him. That knowing look. Yowza, Lucy Chen has your number, Tim Bradford. You better watch yourself!

In Justice

"When you graduate. You have to celebrate. No more Tim Tests? Come on." "He's been quiet lately... Too quiet... He's planning something."

First off, I love the way these three help each other. The original OT3 of the show, it was great to see them come up together, not only as Rookies, but as people.

Second, Melissa O'Neil's read on that line had me rolling, and I love to rewatch it just for her facial expressions. Lucy thinks Tim's planning something, but I think Tim's giving Lucy a little space after the Rosalind thing.

His instincts were to keep them off that assignment, but they went because she thought she could handle it. Instead, it was stressful for both of them.

Tim stepped in to protect her, and every time he does that, I feel like he pulls back just a little to keep himself from feeling like he's crossed some invisible line.

Again, we're not at the tear-your-clothes-off-with-my-teeth stage (yet) with these two. This isn't a romantic line. It's a personal boundary that Tim keeps in place between himself and his Rookies. Usually, it's very easy to keep in place. But Lucy challenges him in ways he never imagined.

Funny enough, he does the same for her. So, much as she's eager to move past Tim Tests, I don't think she's as eager to move on from Tim.

"Why is roll call in the parking lot?" "It was all in the departmental email." "You actually read those?" "Chen does."

And your wife boot's going to be sure you stay on top of things and look good. Look, the best relationships are where two people fill in each other's weaknesses. Tim and Lucy have that in abundance.

"We need to rededicate ourselves to doing this job the right way, which means the last 25 days of your training are gonna be even more intense." "We should check the chop shops, see if anyone brought my car in." "That's what you're focused on? Even as parts your car is worthless." "Not to me."

Tim likes to tell Lucy how "intense" things are going to be. Before, it was almost to terrify her, but now it feels like a warning.

He doesn't want to scare the Rookie off anymore (Lucy isn't afraid of him anymore). He wants to prepare her so she can do her best work.

But Lucy's thoughts aren't even in that Shop. Her thoughts are on a barely-driving tin can that matters. And God bless Tim, but to him things are things. Break the thing and buy another thing.

But things aren't just things to Lucy. If you look around Lucy's place compared to Tim's, you can see the little baubles and bits that mean so much to Lucy. Tim's life is so much grey and beige.

He needs someone like Lucy to bring the color back as much as she needs someone with the structure to help her organize her thoughts. But we're not to the point, yet, where Tim and Lucy can be each other's person.

Right now, they're still learning to speak one another's language.

"Let the hunk of junk go and focus on the end of your training."

He's not trying to be insensitive. He simply doesn't understand.

"Is that what you would do? Let someone get away with stealing the thing that means the most to you? The one constant for the last 10 years?"

Roughly 10 years ago, she moved out of her parents' place. So, we're talking about her whole adult life.

And, weirdly, I just realized I've known Matthew my whole adult life because we met when I was 18. Crazy.

"It's a car." "It's the only place-. Never mind."

Tim could let this go. He could. But he knows Lucy, now. They've had almost a year together, and he can tell when something's really bothering her.

"The only place what?"

I love him being the one to draw this out. Yes, we've seen him pull things out of her before, but this is different. This isn't the harsh bark of "Boot!" when she didn't want to tell him about his learning disability. This is softer. Caring. Gentle.

Tim doesn't drop into this tone that often, so when he does, it really stands out. His inflection on "what?" is leading her, asking her to elaborate, but not demanding it. It's a request. It's a hope. He needs to know why this matters so much to her.

"Where I felt safe... after Caleb."

She can't even look at him. I mean, this is the guy who considers air conditioning a weakness. Stuff is stuff. She expects that he still won't get it.

But he does.

"There's a chop shop on Melrose. We'll start there."

Watch her react. She was hoping he'd help her with this today, but a part of her was ready to be disappointed. She's relieved. Even if they don't find it, Tim is going to help her. He's going to be there for her. And that's what she needs.

Because these three episodes are really strung together by Lucy's trauma and struggles post-DOD. You might think, "Rachel, huh?! That was sooo last season."

But 3x01 taps into Lucy's trauma with Rosalind. In 3x02 she loses her safe place, which is no doubt where she went as soon as she and Tim talked last week, and now it's gone. We'll get into 3x03 later, but right now, Lucy is in that "I know you'll help me" phase, and she. was. right.

Timmy, it might not be your job, but you're doing it anyway.

"Really? A Tim Test right now?"

Damn straight. If you've got him chasing the Tangerine Wonder all across town all day, he's gotta work in his stuff in-between.

"Does this mean you're not up to the challenge?" "No, sir, I am game for whatever you want to throw at me."

Her smile and defiance on that is borderline flirty. And I approve. Flirt on, little sister. This is the era of Lucy Chen charming Tim Bradford, a bit, and I'll take it!

"Back up. I got this."

He holds his hand out toward her as though conceding and getting the hell out of her way. We're a long way from the Tim Tests of old. This one actually feels instructive and almost... fun.

Stressful, yes. But the point system's rather cute.

"Calm, plus leaving, plus an apology. I crushed this test."

Hell, yeah, you did! And she did it with the compassion and kindness that she walked in the door with.

What I really love about this whole thing is Lucy's confidence. She has come so far from that frightened Rookie at the beginning. Yes, she is still a Rookie by the show's measurements, but there's a hell of a lot less "Boot" coming from Tim these days.

"Nice recovery." "MMhmm."

Because she knows he can't compliment her. But, that's close enough. She knows he's proud.

And she is proud of herself, damnit! Lucy loves being a cop, but she hasn't really found support for it at home.

For a while, Lucy looked to Tim for approval. I think she still likes when he actually compliments her, or says nice things, but I think she's stopped looking for his approval and has instead accepted her own. Lucy is proud of Lucy. And that feels good.

"You still go to school? Yeah, I do, and I get good grades. Anymore dumb questions?"

Oh, I like her. She talks a litlte like Tim but has the sentimentality of Lucy.

Straight up, when people told me I should get into Chenford, I thought, "I don't have time for a show like this". I don't. I don't have time to be invested in another show on a weekly basis. I tend to do one a year.

Why? Because our lives are just that chaotic. But, I watched a few clips of the show, and I saw this relationship right here between Tamara and Lucy... and it was what grabbed me first.

So, in a weird way, if you're a fan of these Metas, you have Tamara to thank.

"Is she for real?" "Officer Chen, a word."

You better put some respect on my girl's name. Two seconds ago, it was "Boot", but she talked right over him. So, he's showing her a little respect, and now she's ready to listen to what he has to say.

"Honestly, I'm surprised it took you so long." "Did you have a puppy?" "That's... not relevant here." "Mmhmm."

Wait... that's... that's it!? I wanna hear Tim's story! I love Tim stories... especially stories that help illuminate why he is the way he is.

It's not that Tim thinks he's so special that if things don't work out for him, they can't work out for others. It's that he's been burned so many times, he can't even think past his own experiences to imagine a better world.

He's not narcissistic, constantly pointing his gaze inward. He's looking out, but the blocks of his own fears, insecurities, and heartaches have created a wall between him and the possibility of something else.

"Well, she's not a puppy. She's a girl in trouble, and I'm gonna help her, okay?"

He gives her a little smile, there, that disappears as soon as she looks away. It's not his placating smile. It's not his "kill me now" smile. It's not his real smile... but it feels sincere in the moment. Almost like he appreciates her making this decision even if he thinks it's a bad one.

Again, Lucy is showing a lot of confidence in her choices and decisions, right now. She's not asking for Tim's permission to do what she thinks is right, and so long as it's within the law, Tim's good with that.

"I'm gonna give you my car." "What?" "Just until you get back on your feet. You know, I know it doesn't run great. But it took me to college, it saw me through three really bad relationships, and it kept me sane after... well, after I almost died."

In the aftermath of the horrors she endured, no place felt right. No place felt safe. Lucy settled back into her life, but there were no constants.

Her car had been her sanctuary when she's wept over relationships gone bad. It'd been her celebration spot to blast her music and sing at the top of her lungs. It was her quiet place where she could ride past the beach with the windows down, just soaking in the sand of salt and sand.

It was something that was hers that nobody had taken away. When she thought she'd lost it, she was heartbroken. But then she met someone who right now needs "safe" more.

Look, I'm not saying we ever heal fully from trauma. But, I believe we find ways to move past it, bit by bit. And Lucy releasing her car is huge.

Lucy will get a new car for the first time in her adult life. That car will have a new smell, new look, and new feel. But, she isn't afraid of it. She's no longer clinging to her old car to feel "safe".

And Lucy is making this change in her timing and on her terms. Yes, I think Tamara stealing the car gave her the push, but Lucy has no trepidation as she hands over the key.

Lucy is reclaiming her peace, bit by bit. And she's reminding us who she is—someone who loves others even when they don't think of themselves as lovable. Lucy sees the good. More than that, she draws it out.

It's the Lucy Effect. And I love it.

"Look, I hear he's a solid cop. Learn what's useful and ignore the rest."

This is the same attitude Tim was giving Lucy earlier with the car. He's trying to give what he thinks is practical advice to get through the situation. He's missing the point. He's playing to the old-school attitude of ignoring the bad apples, because it's not worth the effort to try to fix them.

But those people are still on the streets representing the badge. And Tim's not thinking big picture. It's not his strong suit. But it is his blind spot, and he needs someone to help him realize it.

Just because a guy's not out here dropping the "n" word doesn't mean he isn't racist. And racism is so ingrained in our society that it's accepted as inevitable when it shouldn't be.

Alright, I'm gonna get off my soapbox before this Meta takes a turn.

Tim absolutely has the wrong perspective on this. But he won't be able to shift it without some help from someone who sees clearly.

"If you quote me on that to Chen I'll deny it."

Jackson smirks a little at that, despite how dire the situation is. Because Tim isn't his TO, he can say things like this to Jackson. But, he doesn't need Lucy knowing she can ignore him on anything. After all, he holds her fate in his hands.

La Fiera

"Is it possible Tim Bradford is having performance anxiety? There are pills for that, you know." "Look, I've come in second behind Lopez the last four years. Now that Annie Oakley's with the detectives, I got the patrol crown in the bag." "Oh, there's only one problem with that. Me."

These two really do have a great chemistry and an easy trust. This isn't romantic relationship level, but definitely a solid friendship in the making.

Also, nice way to sneak in that exposition so we know what's on the docket for today. Firearms. Competition. And Egos.

"Care to make it interesting? 20 bucks if your Boot makes it out on top?" "I'll take that bet."

I love how he looks at her when he says it. He has full confidence in Lucy being best of the Boots. After all, he trained her, right?

"So, finishing first with the most hits, fastest time, and tightest grouping... Officer Chen."

That's My Bestie!! She is so proud of herself for being first. Above the other Rookies. Above the other Officers. Above all of them. Lucy is a badass.

Tim's right behind her, so we get to see his face as he soaks it in that, welp, he didn't come in first, even with Lopez out of the way. But, hell yeah, his girl came out on top (and Tim likes her on top).

Not only did she come out on top of the Rookies, but she smoked them all. He's a little surprised to have lost out to her (watch his face), but he recovers fast.

And I wish we had an angle on Lucy's face as he thanks the others for their money... because he bet on her.

"Uh, Bradford, Harper, you both tied for second." "I don't know what I hate more—tying for second with you or losing to a Rookie."

Lucy is smiling. She's so damn proud. And Tim actually smiles his pressed-lip smile over her shoulder as he looks down at her. Because, "Yeah, Harper. Same."

"The car is officially yours."

This blew me away. Because, she is signing over the car for good. Yes, she believes she'll see it, again, but she still lets go of it in writing. Good for her!

"How's the puppy?" "She's doing really great. Oh, she told me to tell you, uh, better luck next time at the range." "Get changed." "Yes sir."

The heat. I am living for Flirty Lucy in Season 3. Because this is so. damn. flirty.

She's not afraid of Tim anymore. And because of that, she can tease him, now. And Tim's softened toward Lucy, so he's not going to snap at her. They've eased into this Grumpy/Sunshine trope, and it's freakin' adorable on them.

No matter how "happy" Tim is in life, he's always going to have a bit of the set-in-his-ways grump about him. It's just a part of who he is. And Lucy's always going to have that ball-of-energy/sunlight glow.

They will always be who they are—they're simply helping one another find the best of themselves throughout their relationship.

"Mid-Wilshire Shooting Champ! I like the sound of that. Wait, do I get a trophy? I love trophies." "Relax. You had a few good shots."

Lucy is riding high, sure, but she also doesn't know how badly he wanted to come out of on top. Sorry, Timmy, my boy. Lucy topped you.

I'm sorry. These lines are just writing themselves.

"Come on! I rocked it! Don't be salty just because you got second place. Plus, you won 40 bucks. I should get a cut of that." "Not happening. But as your TO, your successes are my successes. So you should be thanking me for training you so well." "Wow."

Want me to cook up some steamed veggies so you have somewhere to put all that salt, Tim? Because, my man, you are jealous of your Boot.

"You gotta be kidding." "Bad puppy."

I'll admit, I laughed aloud at that one. I'm not the biggest fan of Tim's "Puppy" moniker, but this application was funny.

"I'm arresting all of them..." "What are you doing here? There are cameras all around. You nabbed an innocent man. The D.A. won't file."

Tim's heard Stanton's a good cop, so he's trying to talk to him like a good cop. He's trying to reason with him like a reasonable man—but that's not Stanton.

"These people don't respect authority." "You grabbed the wrong guy." "You're senior officer. It's your call."

And you can be damn sure Tim Bradford will make the right one, ass-wipe. Stanton is trying to appear reasonable, hoping Tim will be his version of reasonable—see it his way.

But Tim's a good person in his bones. Yes, he has a long way to go with his biases and his own blind spots—but he is willing to learn. He's willing to self-improve. He's willing to try to do better.

Stanton's one white sheet away from completing his asshole attire.

"And now you're gonna kiss their ass?" "It's called the least we can do."

Boom. Suck it, Stanton.

"Really? No comment. None at all?"

Lucy is past being afraid of Tim, and right now, she's aghast. Sure, Tim did what he could to clean up Stanton's mess. But that's not good enough.

Stanton paints the picture of one type of cop. Tim paints another. While Stanton is the blatant racist with a chip on his shoulder, guys like Tim exist, too. The ones who are complicit, who don't say anything to avoid ruffling feathers, who let things slide to keep the peace.

Until both are addressed, nothing will change. And that's the truth.

"Look, he's not my favorite cop, either, especially after he handled that family." "You mean the way he terrorized them." "Look, I've been around guys like Doug my entire career, military and police. They're rough around the edges." "'Rough around the edges', 'old-school', 'hard-charging'. Come on, man, Stanton is a racist."

Lucy Chen calling it like it is.

"You don't know that for sure." "Uh, yeah, actually I do. But, you're right. Let's just make excuses for him."

That gets Tim's attention. It's such a brief flash cross his face, but the first time I watched it, I could see that she got through. Because Tim is willing to learn, but he needs someone with patience to teach him.

Lucy breaks through Tim's defenses. He would never admit it, at this point, but it's true. They are friends, now, and she holds a special spot for Tim, even if it's not (yet) romantic.

"Bradford, we're in the middle of something, so-" "I-I think I know what it's about. Look, whatever Officer West is telling you, I stand with him."

That's my boy. Yes, Tim is a few years older than I am, but I feel maternal right now, okay!? Tim spied the conversation through the glass, and knowing that a Rookie might not be taken seriously, he threw in his word as Senior Officer.

And that got Grey's attention.

"Look I know you're pissed-" "Why aren't you?" "I am. It's just, I've been making excuses for pricks like Stanton my entire life, figured there was no changing them, so I'd let it go. I gave them a pass."

"excuses". Lucy's word. The word that got through.

"It wasn't a pass. You gave them permission. Silence is complicity, sir." "Yeah, I get that, now."

Jackson is keeping it professional with Tim, and I applaud him for that. There's a lot of emotions, here. And it sucks that Tim got this far in life without taking a stand. But, I'm glad he did.

"Look, I don't trust people who are nice to me." "I get it... trust is something that needs to be earned not bought. So, how can I earn trust with you?"

Oooh, I feel this in my bones. As a kid, any time someone was nice to me it was so they could screw with me. I was once invited to go to the roller rink with some kids. But it wasn't sincere. They had planned to stand back and laugh as I waited outside, alone. A friend who was with them told me, later.

My mom sniffed it out, called them back with Star 69, and threatened a bunch of middle schoolers. It was a thing of beauty to behold.

But, it explains why I have been so slow to trust in my life. The rug's been pulled out from under me too many times to believe that everyone is inherently "good".

"I need a safe place to keep this at night..." "And your cousin's is not a safe place?" "It's safe-adjacent."

Safe. What is it to feel truly safe? Lucy hasn't known it in a while, safe from the inside of her beater sedan. Now, about 21 days shy of ending her Rookie year, Lucy has released her safe place, and is focusing on helping someone else find "safe".

She's healed enough to help another person. And that's huge.

Tim and Lucy are both natural caretakers. Tim is more guarded of who he takes care of, while Lucy is more broad. But they both watch out for the people they love. And I love that about them.

As always, thank you for reading!! I know we're all anxious for the new episode, and I can't wait to watch it with y'all.

#Chenford #Lucy Chen #Tim Bradford #Melissa O'Neil #Eric Winter #The Rookie #Meta #Lucy x Tim #Tim x Lucy

[ashboy-3]

Tucker Saving the Day

Written for Dannymay 2023 Day 22 Prompt: Cryptid Au Fandom: Danny Phantom Characters: Danny, Tucker, College OCs Words: 1,115 Summary: Danny has been in college for a full semester and Tucker is getting tired of having to wipe his college server of all the weird gostly things he's been doing

Danny has been in college for a whole semester now and he has to say that it’s better than he thought it could be. He misses his friends, family, and surprisingly all of Amity Park, but he’s learned how to deal with it.

Amity Park being his home and lair he has to go back at least once a month to keep his core happy, two months if he’s really pushing it.

It’s a long flight for him going to and from the west to the east coast once a month but as long as no one sees him he’s fine and he always has his ectoplasm-filled shakes to keep him going.

“Danny dude did you see the latest cryptid video yet?” Parker, his roommate, asked as they sat down for lunch.

“You know I don’t follow the cryptid feed,” Danny shrugged eating a fry.

“People are trying to figure out who the cryptid is though and they haven’t crossed you out yet!” Parker exclaimed a smile on his face as Danny’s eyes went wide.

“How are they crossing people out?” Danny asked, watching the video of him last night flying back onto campus. Someone must have videoed him but his ghost half messed with the cameras making him free from any immediate attention.

“They just look out for anyone who’s been weird. Asking for evidence to clear people or to keep people. They compiled a list of everyone using class list that others have given them,” Parker shrugged.

“Okay so why have I not been crossed out yet?” Danny asked, a look that Parker hasn’t seen often on his face.

“Dude you’ve been seen in multiple classes drinking a glowing green liquid. You’ve been spotted drinking over three energy drinks with over two cups of coffee in the same day but not only that but it was that same amount three days in a row and you were just fine. I’ve seen you stay up for eight full days for finals last semester and was still fully functional,” Parker explained.

“Doesn’t explain why I’m on the list! Their nothing weird about that!” Danny shot back.

“Danny. You are one of the weirdest people I know,” James said, walking up to the table, joining in the conversation, Laura following behind him.

“Okay that’s just not fair. I feel like your all gaining up on me,” Danny grumbled crossing his arms.

“Relax none of us have actually sent any info about you to the thread. It was all people who have just noticed you. We know you don’t like to much attention and wouldn’t betray your trust like that,” Laura promised him, putting a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

“Thanks guys really.” Danny smiled as he ate his food.

“So are you coming out with us tonight?” Parker asked, a smirk on his face as he stole half of Danny’s cookie.

“Dude you have your own!” Danny complained trying to steal it back, but gave up eventually. “No. I have a few things to complete that are due tomorrow, but I’ll be free in let’s say three days?” Danny thought looking up trying to remember if he was planning anything.

“You sure you have nothing planned?” James asked, knowing Danny’s tendency to cancel at the last minute.

“You know me can never promise anything,” Danny shrugged, just as he felt the familiar pull of time stopping around him, a sigh escaping his mouth. “Actually I have a feeling I’ll be busy,” Danny was quick to change his mind.

“Oh great did something important come up again already? Your phone didn’t even go off!” James groaned.

“It’s nothing big,” Danny promised as he got out his phone and saw a small sticky note on it, ‘meeting in three days C.W.’

“C.W.? You don’t know anyone with those letters do you?” Laura asked, reading the note.

“Just someone from my hometown. I have to go home as often as I do to help out around there,” Danny shrugged as he texted Sam and Tucker. The two aren’t able to go home as much as Danny, but they yell at him anytime he leaves them out of the loop.

“Where are you from again?” Laura asked.

“Just some small town in Illinois. Nowhere important,” Danny shrugged lightly.

“And that is why you are considered a cryptid possibility. You keep too much to yourself,” Parker groaned.

“I’ll think about taking you there one day. Things are just still too hectic between me and my family.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t at least give us a name,” James glared playfully.

“Maybe in the future,” Danny told them, finishing his lunch and heading to his next class, getting on a quick call with Tucker.

“Dude I need you to fix the cryptid thread again,” Danny was quiet as he talked.

“Again? Dude I fixed it for you twice already. How many people are thinking it’s you?”

“Not sure. My friends over here just pointed out to me a lot of weird things that I do. I swear it’s like high school all over again,” Danny rolled his eyes as he could hear Tucker typing rapidly on hs computer.

“I can do a basic purge but if you want a hardcore purge I’d recommend Technus. He’ll be happy just to have some access to technology and you know how to keep him in check,” Tucker suggested.

“And risk him going to the internet?” Danny debated.

“You know he doesn’t give a shit about that anymore. As long as you stay king he’ll be happy. Still amazed how the rouges did a complete 180,” Tucker kept talking.

“Yeah a 180 for you and Sam. Once they reazlied I haven’t been a ghost that long they almost killed Clockwork for wanting to make me king. The amount of times I’m still called a child or baby ghost is ridiculous,” Danny rolled his eyes. “Also I’m not king yet. It was ruled by the council I have to become older in ghost years and finish getting my education. I’m still considered a prince.”

“I’ll still say it’s king as long as you got that ring on. Do I have to search and delete any info on that as well?” Tucker asked.

“I’m more worried about the GIW finding out where I am,” Danny admitted.

“The meeting is in three days. Give Technus access to the thread he’ll delete everything needed,” Tucker promised as the two said their good byes.

“Man being ghost is hard,” Danny grumbled, walking into his next class and slumping in his desk. Maybe one day he’ll tell his new friends, but it isn’t worth the possible backlash right now.

#dannymay2023 #danny fenton #danny phantom #danny fenton is in college #college au #danny is ghost king #ghost king danny #ghost king au

[cheeriecherrymain]

Incorrigible Flirts And Besweatered Men [Chapter 2]

Pairing: TA!Viktor x fem!Reader Rating: T Warnings: None that I can think of Proofread: Not even a tiny bit Chapter Summary: You enter friend territory with Viktor, get an email that might change your future, and get asked on a date (but it’s not actually a date).

It’s been two weeks since the new semester started. Two weeks, and you’re already stressed over the amount of work you’re doing. You’ve told yourself again and again that it’s only going to get more difficult as the year presses on, but somehow, the sentiment has not made you feel any better.

You suppose one of the bright sides of being in another one of Heimerdinger’s classes is that you’ve met Viktor.

When you’d asked for his number, you’d maybe given him the impression that you only wanted it for school purposes; however, he didn’t seem to mind that you texted him daily - if it bothered him, he’d never said anything. In fact, he was always quick to reply to your messages.

Viktor doesn’t seem to be the type of person who’s particularly attached to his phone, so you like to think that maybe he just enjoys talking to you.

—

You startle out of sleep when your alarm starts beeping aggressively in your ear; you don’t remember leaving your phone on your bed the previous night, but knowing your own habits, you probably fell asleep while watching meme videos. Again.

You squirm around a little bit to find the optimal stretching position, only to be deterred when you realize all three of your cats are curled up on your legs, rendering you immobile.

You quickly snap a picture of them, and flip to Viktor’s chat window.

Y/N: Good morning!

Y/N: Hopefully you’re already awake, and I’m not waking you up.

Y/N: I might not be able to make it to class today.

You find yourself smiling when a set of dots appear beside Viktor’s name.

Viktor (Phys510A): Good morning, indeed.

Viktor (Phys510A): Everything is alright, I hope?

Your heart flutters at his concern, and you take a moment to compose yourself. He’s just being nice, you tell yourself, He would check in on anyone else just the same. But despite your inner monologue, you still can’t help the warmth that spreads through your chest and down every nerve ending in your body.

Y/N: I’m okay, I promise.

Y/N: Just a little bit of potential legal trouble.

Viktor (Phys510A): Legal trouble?

Viktor (Phys510A): Do you need help?

With a wry grin, you send the picture of the cats piled on your blanketed legs.

Y/N: If I move them, I’ll go to jail.

Viktor (Phys510A): Miss. Y/N.

You can feel his exasperation through his text, and you barely manage to suppress a laugh.

Viktor (Phys510A): You are a menace.

Viktor (Phys510A): You had me genuinely worried for a moment.

Y/N: Awww, you care about me?

Viktor (Phys510A): Of course I care.

Viktor (Phys510A): You’re one of Heimerdinger’s top students.

Y/N: Oh, ouch???

Y/N: And here I thought we were at least friends by now.

Y/N: But I see how it is.

Y/N: I’m only a student, after all.

Y/N: Woe is me :( 

Viktor (Phys510A): You say it like you consider us friends?

Y/N: Of course I do!

Y/N: You’re one of the only two people I send good morning texts to.

Y/N: The other person is my cousin.

Y/N: She works at a pizza parlor.

Y/N: I get free pizza if I let her gossip with me.

Viktor (Phys510A): Is this your way of saying you want something from me?

Y/N: No!!!

Y/N: omg you’re missing the point completely.

Y/N: I can’t believe I showed you my litties when I’m being treated like this

Viktor (phys510A): What are litties?

Y/N: KITTIES*

Y/N: You’ve stooped low, Viktor.

Y/N: Calling me out on a typo.

Viktor (Phys510A): Physics and its subsequent lessons have no room for typos.

Viktor (Phys510A): I’m just preparing you for class.

Y/N: Physics and its concepts were discovered by total accident.

Y/N: That’s basically a typo, but real life.

Y/N: Therefore you cannot scold me for having fat thumbs.

Viktor (Phys510A): You’re really going to stick with that argument, aren’t you.

Y/N: Yes. Yes, I am.

Viktor (Phys510A): If you’re not in class today, I’m telling Heimerdinger that you’re hungover.

Y/N: But then he’ll be disappointed in me!

Y/N: He’ll make The Face and everything!

Viktor (Phys510A): It’s your choice.

Y/N: Terrible, awful, horrible man.

Viktor (Phys510A): I’ll see you in class :) 

You set your phone down with a pouty sigh, and debate just going back to sleep. However, you know that Viktor is a man who will follow through on his threats, however playful they are, and you don’t think you have the emotional capacity to deal with disappointment from the Professor.

So, with great difficulty and many protests from your cats, you haul yourself out of bed to get ready for the day.

—

You walk into the lecture hall, waving to Viktor and the Professor, and take your favourite seat; second row from the front, just to the left of the center of the room. 

The class had shrunk considerably since the start of the semester, with most of the unenthused students dropping the course, but in your mind, the front row was only for serious students. You might still be a part of the class, and you certainly cared about your grades, but you weren’t passionate about the subject like some of your peers.

The second row was the optimal choice.

Once you’re settled, you pull your notebooks and supplies out of your bag. It’s an ancient thing, made mostly of scraps and patches at this point, but it gets the job done. You only have to unwrinkle a few pages of notes as you go over them.

Then again, you only go over your notes for a few pages, before your mind - and your eyes - starts wandering. Specifically, over to Viktor.

He’s a good teacher, whether he’s helping Heimerdinger with lectures, or wandering from student to student to quietly answer questions. He’s insightful and intelligent, and he’s encouraging in his criticisms. 

Not to mention, he turns a lovely shade of pink when you flirt with him.

You’ve noticed a couple of your classmates try to behave the same with him - friendly with a flirtatious air - and you’ve never seen Viktor get as flustered as with you. In fact, with everyone else, he hardly gets flustered at all. He keeps his professionalism in check, and keeps the conversation subjects strictly on class material.

That isn’t to say he doesn’t do the same with you, of course; his first instinct with you is to help you with any questions you have about the days’ lecture, but he’s…warmer with you. Friendlier, and more open. Plus, you’re pretty sure you’re the only person in the class who has his personal number, and he’s always quick to text you back-

You startle out of your thoughts when your pocket vibrates and, with a quick glance around to make sure you haven’t drawn attention to yourself, you pull your phone out of your pocket.

You’re half expecting a cheeky text from Viktor, something along the lines of ‘Why are you checking your phone in class?’, and you’re only slightly disappointed when you don’t see any notifications from him. You do, however, have an email.

You swipe to see who it’s from, deciding it’s most likely junk or spam - but the name of the sender makes you pause.

Firelights Studios.

Your heart leaps into your throat so quickly that you nearly choke, and you’re quick to open the email.

You don’t fully read most of it - that’s a task better left for outside class hours - but you’re able to understand the gist of it; you try your hardest to keep your excitement at bay, but as you quietly slip your phone back into your pocket, you’re unable to keep your hands from shaking.

There’s no way in hell you’re going to be able to focus on working for the next three hours.

—

The class drags on far longer than it should, despite the fact that it ends right on schedule. Part of you is grateful for the longer lessons - it really allows you to get into your projects and be present for learning - but mostly, you’re just cranky that you have to sit for so long.

You walk swiftly down the steps at the side of the lecture hall, your mind still reeling from the email you got earlier. It had seemed to be good news, from what you’d read; you hadn’t seen any apologies or ‘we regret to inform you’s hidden within the multitude of paragraphs.

And then a tug on your shoulder, followed by the sickening sound of snapping threads, brings your thoughts out of the clouds and back to reality. It happens so quickly that you don’t even have time to react - your shoulder bag is torn open after getting caught on the edge of a bannister, and your various papers and school supplies explode across the floor.

You swear quietly, and stoop down to try to collect everything. You’re not sure how you’re going to carry anything, though, once you try to find space in the bag that is - at this point - little more than scrap fabric.

You sigh deeply, and run your hands over your face. 

And then the creak of a chair right beside you, and the shuffling of papers.

You remove your hands from your face to find Viktor just to your left, helping you gather up the mess you’d made. You just watch him for a second, both surprised by the gesture, but also not; because he’s Viktor. Of course he’d rush in to help.

“Thank you,” you manage to squeak out, scrabbling around to move all your stuff into a more tidy pile. You’re not entirely sure why your throat tightens the way it does, nor why tears start to sting the corners of your eyes; you just hope that Viktor doesn’t notice, or make a comment on why you’re so quiet.

Once everything is set up into neat little stacks, Viktor produces a fabric square from his own shoulder bag, and hands it to you. “It won’t replace an actual school bag,” he says softly, “but it will at least allow you to carry everything back to your residence.” 

You stare at the square for a moment, taking longer than you’d like to realize it’s a reusable grocery bag. You quickly unfold it to start packing your things up, mumbling your thanks once again.

Once all is said and done, Viktor stands up beside you and offers his hand.

“Well,” you sigh, as he helps you to your feet, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to fix it this time around.” You regard the ruined satchel in your hand, and crinkle your nose up.

“Are you sure?” Viktor asks, though you can tell by his tone that he’s just trying to be supportive. “A…little bit of extra fabric here and there, and maybe…”

You fix him with a disbelieving stare, and he trails off.

“At this point, the entire thing is made of scrap fabric,” you explain. “I’ve had this bag since I was thirteen, I think? Or maybe twelve?” Viktor looks surprised, but you continue, “It doesn’t matter. I’m overdue for a replacement, is the point.”

Your attention darts down to the worn-leather bag hanging at his side, and you ask, “ Viktor, you wouldn’t happen to remember where you got that, would you?”

His gaze follows yours, and realization dawns on him. “Oh- yes, actually.” He reaches into one of the satchel’s pockets, and digs around for a couple seconds. “It’s a little hole-in-the-wall sort of place - I don’t think they even have a website, all of his reputation is based on word-of-mouth.”

He pulls out a tiny notepad and a metal pen, and scribbles down an address. “Here,” he says softly, handing it to you, and you don’t miss the little jolt of warmth you feel when your fingers brush together. “It’s, ah. It’s reasonably priced, for hand-crafted goods, and there are lots of designs to choose from. You should be able to find something.”

Butterflies explode in your stomach when you see the pink dusting his cheeks again: he’s just as affected by the little touch as you are.

But your nervous excitement turns into anxiety when you read the address he’s written down for you.

“Is this place in the-” you pause for a moment, “Is this place in Zaun?” You try your best to keep your voice even, but it proves difficult. You don’t want to be the kind of person who judges any part of a community based on the worst of the people that can be found there, and you understand that most of the residents in that district are only trying to make ends meet: but you’d be naive - if not downright stupid - to walk through the undercity without a single care.

“It is,” Viktor confirms. “Is that an issue?”

You fidget nervously, picking at the dry skin around your cuticles. “Only because I’m a single woman,” you tell him, starting to feel like you’re overreacting. “It’ll be fine though, I’m sure. I’m just being my usual nervous self!” 

Your attempt at deflecting goes poorly, because Viktor continues to frown at you. You think for a moment that you’ve offended him or worse, but all at once his features soften and his shoulders relax.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he says quietly, sounding almost guilty.

You shrug. “I mean, you’re a guy, so you don’t…I mean, obviously you have to be careful still, but…you don’t really have to be on guard every time you leave the house.”

“It is the same as when we met,” he says, “when you hesitated following me. Clearly there are dangers in the world that even I do not know about. But you need a bag, and I stand by my opinion that this man is one of the best craftsmen in the area; and I cannot send you there alone in good conscience.”

Then quieter, “Are you free this weekend?”

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #arcane reader insert #ta!viktor #fem!reader

[scribblestatic]

It's the evening of the day something or someone caused part of U.A.'s gate to decay.

Of course, the teachers are already working on repairs by the end of the day, and the sun is setting. All Might, already out of juice, walks along the halls inside, tiredly wondering what could've done such a thing. After all, U.A.'s walls are incredibly strong, but they were crumbled with ease.

As he wonders this, he looks up toward one of the windows facing the gate.

There's someone standing there, watching the repairs.

They're cloaked in pale, wispy white, staring outside. The sun's retreating rays almost seem to run right through the figure.

When All Might's gaze trails down toward the figure's feet, he realizes it's quite possible the sun really is going through them. Everything from the ankles down is gone, faded into nonexistence.

"Hello, young one," All Might greets, getting closer. "School's already let out, so you can't be on campus right now."

The person doesn't respond, not turning to look at him. Their poncho sways loosely around their calves, the hood pulled up and over their head. All Might frowns, starting to slow down. After all, it doesn't appear like the person is wearing the school uniform.

What if they aren't a student?

"...Perhaps you're lost? I know it's not easy for kids during the first few days. Which class are you a student of?"

They don't answer.

All Might checks his body for even the slightest hint of power in his veins. He finds an empty keg, dried and dusty. There's nothing in the tank for him to use.

Just like that day.

...He hadn't actually talked to anyone about that day. The day he failed to find the sludge villain fast enough. The day he couldn't muster his power. The day that young boy, still able to live for a little while, even with his jaw torn open, lost and abandoned in a nearby alleyway until he died a pointless death.

Instead, he learned the boy's name, learned he was quirkless, and decided to nestle his name alongside the many others he hadn't been able to save in his long heroics career.

He tried to be careful since then. To have something in the tank for a moment's notice. But there were so many incidents that popped up--so many people who needed saving at any given moment. He couldn't just abandon them.

So he let his power dry out, day after day. Today was one such day as well.

Quietly, he tries to think of what to do or say next. If he sent a message to any of the other heroes, would they arrive in time to help? Should he even call them, when he doesn't actually know what quirk this person has? Despite his currently decrepit state, he's still a hero in his own right.

"...Did you hear me?"

"Oh. I heard you."

The stranger's voice sounds eerie. A whisper that, despite said so quietly, echoes in his ears, like two to three soft voices overlapping each other.

However, though eerie...there was an unnatural sense of ease that came over him.

Whoever this was meant no harm.

Although the air felt colder now that the other was speaking, it wasn't with danger. More like the feeling of a steady spring breeze. His nose twitched, and he just very slightly noticed the scent of cherry blossoms.

It was a nostalgic smell, one that had faded with the start of the new school semester. But it still clings to this strange person standing here.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

The stranger turns toward him, their body simply shifting without the movement of their feet, as though standing on a rotating tile on the floor. All Might blinks when he sees their face.

Mostly because it's entirely concealed in an unnatural blackness under the hood. He can't even see the person's eyes or mouth, nothing of their face at all.

"I was just listening."

"Listening? To what?"

"To the voices. I'm following a very thin trail."

Well, that made no sense. However, the person's disarming, whispering nature still didn't set off any alarms. He probably should've found that alarming, and yet, he only slightly did. Though, the feeling was more out of curiosity than fear. Even so, he has enough wits about him to not mindlessly approach the strange person.

"A thin trail, you say? Is there a way I or anyone else can help you?"

"Hmm... It's possible, perhaps. But I'm not sure it is right now. It's an almost imperceptible trail, surrounding this school and the students in it."

All Might's gaze narrows. "...I can't say I know what to make of that. Or rather, what to make of why you've said that."

But the figure just shrugs, their shoulders shifting under the poncho.

"I mean no ill will. I suppose it's just a warning to look out for them."

The person moves again, though, again, without moving their legs. They simply float forward unnaturally, and in an instant, they're passing by All Might's side.

A chill shudders its way down his spine.

"Be watchful. I sense malice toward Class 1-A."

And then they pass.

When All Might quickly turns around, intending to ask more, there's...

Nothing.

No one.

The chill is gone, as is the whispered scent of cherry blossoms.

#static writes #static drabbles #poltergeist deku au #au post 2 #bnha au #mha au #Youtube

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid // cth

chapter three

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

chapter zero, one, two

july 13, 2018

los angeles, california

orion

—

There are just over two weeks until Calum leaves for tour. It'll be the longest time we've spent apart since before we knew each other.

Sure, the first few months of our "relationship" — if you could've even called it that then — were spent apart, but I saw him almost every weekend for the first couple of months I was in Spain, and then once I was back in LA, he returned shortly thereafter and the rest is history.

All that to say, I'm devastated that he's leaving. I keep trying to tell myself it'll be the perfect chance to focus on LSAT prep and really do well in my classes this semester, but it's hard when the one person you want to talk to at the end of every shitty day and the one who I want to tell about every essay I get a 100 on will be gone for four months. Living together has put us in such close quarters that any time apart feels stiflingly lonely.

Today hasn't been that different. We both woke up around the same time, but I stayed in bed while he got up and got ready to head to rehearsal. He took Duke out so I didn't need to get up until I wanted to, made himself some semblance of a breakfast sandwich, and gave me a kiss goodbye.

I didn't really want to get out of bed this morning. For some reason, I've been feeling sick almost every other week it seems. My throat is sore, my body just aches, and I feel feverish. It's not flu season, which makes me assume it's just a cold, but I don't understand why it keeps coming back, so I made an appointment at my doctor's office to see if it's a sinus infection or something that we can make go away with antibiotics.

I got dressed in a random t-shirt from Calum's pile of "not quite dirty, but also not clean" clothes and a pair of cotton shorts, washed my face, and then left the house. I stopped at Starbucks for a coffee on my way to the doctor, just to feel a bit more awake, even though I know I'll inevitably feel like a zombie.

When I get to the doctor's office, it's a blur of blood draws, questions from nurses and techs, blood pressure cuffs and other measurements. I've never liked going to the doctor, and today is no different. Normally, I'd have asked Calum to come with me, but with the tour so close, I didn't want to take away from an important workday — even though I know he would've come with me if I asked.

Finally, after waiting in the sterile exam room for what feels like a few hours but was likely only a maximum of 15 minutes, my doctor and a nurse enter the room.

"Good morning, Orion!" He cheerily says.

"Good morning," I say, far less enthusiastically.

"Sorry to hear you're feeling a bit under the weather. Just so you know, we're not seeing anything too alarming just yet, but we're still waiting on your blood panel to get analyzed by the lab." He's rubbing a fresh blob of hand sanitizer into his skin while the nurse makes notes on her pad. It all feels very impersonal, part of a protocol, and almost like no one has thought to even talk to me.

"I wanted to ask," he continues. "Have you ever had a sinus infection?"

"I've had one, yeah."

"What did that feel like for you? Did it feel like this?"

I think back, trying to remember. I'd gotten one after weeks of country-hopping, following Calum around on tour. The plane germs and travel fatigue had gotten to me. I felt horrible, but the main thing I remember was how badly my face hurt. "It was different, I had a lot of sinus pain, this is just more generally... sick? Does that make sense?"

My doctor nods, and the nurse stays silent while she keeps writing. "I understand. Well, given your symptoms and since we haven't heard back from the lab on your blood panel, I'm going to go ahead and prescribe you some antibiotics. While we aren't sure that it's a sinus infection, I'd rather go ahead and treat you for that than wait and do nothing and find out this was our best bet all along."

I nod, my mouth feeling too dry to speak.

The nurse coughs from out of nowhere, and then she and the doctor exchange a few glances that seem to have a lot more meaning than I could ever understand. Then the doctor turns back to me.

"We also noticed that bruise along your collarbone. Is that kind of bruising normal for you?"

Involuntarily, my eyes widen. I can't believe he's just asked me that. "Uh," I start, my cheeks hot. "My uh, boyfriend... it's, it's not a bruise." I cough. I guess a hickey is a form of a bruise, but still.

The doctor's facial expression is unreadable but both he and the nurse then share more glances. "Got it, we're just trying to make sure your chart has all of your symptoms."

—

I leave the office $150 poorer and with a prescription for an antibiotic that I don't think is going to help me, and no answers in hand. The LA traffic makes my drive home take almost an entire hour, and all I want to do is take a nap.

I pull into the parking garage at the apartment building that Calum insisted was the right choice, parking in my space next to Cal's empty one. Our cars stick out in the garage, both older, beat up, and not luxury brands.

Living here wasn't my choice, at least not fully. I'd found us a building where a lot of other UCLA students live, mostly the richer ones whose parents pay for everything, closer to campus, but Cal didn't feel like he'd be able to live there with its central location and lack of security. He doesn't get followed often, but when he does, he doesn't like to cause too big of a scene.

The building we do live in, though, I can barely afford to pay a quarter of the rent for. Cal insisted it was fine, he could pay the whole rent himself without issue, but I didn't feel right letting him do that. We have it worked out so that all I do is pay utilities and occasionally a few hundred toward the actual rent, which even still I have a hard time letting happen, but Calum basically refused to let me set up my account on the autodraft payment for the rent.

I know that sounds like something lots of people would love, not needing to pay any part of the rent, I just hate feeling like I'm taking advantage of Calum and our situation. He kept saying that my education was the most important thing and once I'm making money and out of debt I can contribute as much as I want.

Regardless, I feel out of place parking my shitty car and wearing a worn out, partially dirty t-shirt where I live. We've been here for almost a year and we still don't have any friends in the building. I've gotten pretty familiar with Ron, the main security officer in the lobby, but aside from that, we're only met with snobby glares and passive aggressive elevator encounters.

Ready to just go lay down, I enter the lobby, swiping my fob and dodging a neighbor wearing a suit who’s angrily talking on the phone. Ron is behind the desk in the lobby, as usual.

“Morning,” I call to him. He waves happily back and I keep walking. Normally I’d stop and chat, ask if he’d like me to bring him a coffee, but I just don’t have it in me today.

When I get up to our apartment, Duke is waiting for me at the door. I sigh, wishing I could just go lay down, but he needs to go out. I feel like a zombie as I trudge through the apartment, grabbing his leash and poop bags, hooking him into his harness and then going back to the elevator.

By the time I’ve taken Duke out and gotten back to the apartment, my whole body aches and begs to rest. I turn on the TV and just pick something random from Netflix for white noise.

“C’mere,” I tell Duke, curling into a ball under the massive fuzzy blanket Crystal got me for Christmas last year. I pat a space on the couch next to me, and he hops up, nestling next to me and quickly settling.

I sigh, finally at ease, and lean my head back against the pillows on the couch.

read next chapter

—

a/n: guys i’m so happy people are reading this 🥹 shorter chapter. just leading up to the good stuff!!

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings #calum hood #ashton irwin #fanfiction #fanfic #5sosfam #5sos fanfic #calum imagine #calum x oc #boyfriend!calum

[flutteringfable]

new vs old kento design

if i can dig up the original drawing of this guy i’ll rb this with it, but i’m too eepy to go digging through old sketchbooks, so you get a couple-of-months-old heroforge version of him to compare to the new design 😭 his original design was pretty boring, tbh.

i used to just draw him in a white hoodie and jeans and that was it. idk what the deal was, he had no defining features unless he was using his quirk and had his ears and tails showing jcjskdnfjsnd. also not a huge fan of the old hair, when drawn in my style it’s really similar to kiyoshi’s and also it was kinda lame of me to not try anything new for the style (it really shows in the og drawing, you’ll get to see it once i find it lmao).

but anyway, blurb time!!! i think kento has the most interesting story out of all my bnha ocs, and i’m glad i get to fix it up a little and give him a slightly better life and just a better written backstory in general ^^

kento was originally quirkless; he gained his quirk after he was lured into a facility that was testing quirks and how they affect humans, and was given the quirk artificially. he was neglected and used only for testing his limits for almost a year.

his quirk is VERRRY unstable at first. he doesn’t get much actual training with it until he’s brought to UA, so whenever he transforms it hurts him a lot, and his emotions heavily affect his quirk.

he’s rescued by a group of pro heroes when the league breaks in to steal subjects to use as nomus. the police help find his mother again, and he gets to return home.

for weeks, kento thinks about the lab and the people still trapped there. he wants to help them, he doesn’t want anyone else to go through what he did. he’s never considered being a hero, but the thought of being able to help people still stuck in the experiments makes the career incredibly appealing. he takes another couple of months or so to study up and ease his mind before he talks to his mom about it.

of course, she’s skeptical. it’s understandable; kento had disappeared for so long, and she didn’t want to lose him again. but kento explains his motivations, and they eventually come to an agreement. the UA entrance exam is coming up, and kento needs to practice using his quirk so he has some chance of passing the practical portion (now that i’m writing this, this part is really similar to izuku’s story ncjskfjksf)

i kinda wanna skip to stuff abt him and his bfs, so i’m gonna keep this short. obvs he just barely makes it in, and ends up in class 1-A.

aside from izuku, kirishima is one of the first friends he makes. they like to talk about training together, and later on in the year, they train together in their free time. kento usually brings snacks to share afterwards, and it isn’t long before kiri’s moms and kento’s mom are well acquainted from them constantly visiting each other for training and just to hang out.

kento and bakugou’s start, however, is pretty rocky, mostly because of bakugou’s attitude during the first semester. the only reason they hang out at first is because of kirishima. as time goes on, however, they slowly realize they have a lot in common, and come to an understanding. the thing that really brings them close, however, is bakugou’s headphones breaking. kento offers to share, and baku reluctantly agrees, and realizes he and kento have pretty similar music taste! obvs he’s not gonna soften up massively about this, but he finds that he likes kento a lot more than he initially thought.

for a year, all three of them are basically attached at the hip. one is barely ever seen without the others, and they spend a lot of time outside of class together.

kirishima confesses first, during the training camp arc after they rescue bakugou. kento managed to slip through the portal and follow the league while staying invisible with his quirk, so both he and bakugou disappeared for quite some time. kiri was so worried about losing them again, he confessed as soon as they were all safe. cue kento’s and bakugou’s, followed by a group hug and a few awkward but earnest first kisses.

nowadays, they’re closer than ever, and have gotten in trouble a lot more often for falling asleep in each other’s dorms (and occasionally the common room) after long study sessions.

#fable doodles 💫 #fable writes 💫 #double whammy!!! two categories in one >:3 #i got eepy towards the end so it might be a little silly but hopefully it’s alright #just imagining my other ocs like “gee kento! how come fable lets you have two boyfriends?” #its very silly lmao #kento sasaki #kento and bakugou and kirishima #their tags r gonna be so long but it’ll be okay #kento x bakugou x kirishima #bnha oc x canon #bnha oc

[anamelesssimp]

What do you mean that's not his name?!

Part three of crying on a Saturday night :)

They sat in a very uncomfortable silence until the waitress came to take their orders. Jenna made sure to order for Tara and Cass, even though she really wanted to tell them both to eat shit, for putting her and Darby into the most uncomfortable situation they possibly could have. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in him , at least somewhat, he was definitely physically attractive. And, so far had been nothing but a gentleman towards her. It was just hard for her to think about letting someone else in, to open up to having feelings for someone again. Obviously one night wouldn’t cause her to fall head over heels, but even slightly liking someone again was enough to make her want to vomit. It had been almost a year since things had ended so badly with her ex, and though she told Tara everyday since that she just wasn’t ready and that she was fine, once her and Cass had started dating and doing all the happy couple things everyone could see the loneliness in her eyes. She couldn’t lie to herself; she did miss having that connection to someone, and having those sweet moments together. Laughing at inside jokes, snuggling when the Seattle rain just poured down and there was nowhere else to be. But to know that none of that, none of the happy times, or how much love was given, could stop them from getting up and walking away kept her in her lonely shell. She also knew Tara had nothing but good intentions in the surprise blind date , she knew that Jenna would never go for it if she had prior knowledge, she truly just wanted what was best for her best friend. But it was so uncomfortable and she could see it all over Darbys face. It was just as awkward for him as it was for her.  It also wasn’t fair to him because he probably thought this was planned and was going to have a nice time with someone who was interested in pursuing it if they hit it off. Jenna was just ready to give up and hide in the bathroom when he finally spoke up, almost causing her to jump out of the seat as the silence was abruptly broken. 

“ So I take it you didn’t know about this whole set up thing, did you?” He questioned not looking up from his drink where he fiddled with the straw, chasing the ice around the cup. 

“ No, honestly I didn’t. I hope you don’t think I’m rude or stuck up or anything, I just got blindsided, and well I am completely socially awkward, even under normal circumstances…” Jenna trailed off not knowing what else to say and realizing she was beginning to ramble. 

“ I don’t think that at all! I kinda feel the same way. I found out as I was packing up my gear, but Orange kinda  made it seem like you knew and I was the last to know.”

“ Oh, well, good news since he actually told you  BEFOREEE you came outside, I was the last to know! So at least you can say you weren’t the last to know about this surprise date” She laughed anxiously and used air quotations around the last word. Darby let out a chuckle as he smirked and nodded his head. 

“ Well , yea that’s true. I really am sorry that this happened. Orange has been pushing me to get back out there since my divorce was finalized and he knew that I would never have come if he had told me. Not that you aren’t attractive and seem like a cool person , just like I’m really not one to go out and want to meet new people…” He lowered his gaze back down to his cup and began playing with his ice again. 

“ I get you completely on that, like it has nothing to do with you at all personally. I’m just not one to blindly go hang out with people. Tara and I had classes together for a whole semester before I actually spoke back to her when she would try and talk to me.” She couldn’t help but smile a little at the memories of Tara trying and trying to strike up a friendship between the two of them. 

“ Seriously I feel you, I trained with Orange for months before we had a conversation outside of training or something relating to wrestling. At Least we have that in common I guess.” he grinned and brought his gaze back up to meet her eyes. She felt her stomach give a little jolt as she smiled back at him. She told herself mentally to calm down. It was just a casual conversation, and his eyes didn’t look more beautiful than they had a few minutes ago. Before things could settle back into silence Jenna decided she wanted to keep the conversation going, though she hadn’t planned on this, nor did she think this would go anywhere, she was starting to have fun. 

“ So why do you call Cassidy Orange orange all the time? Like I get it when you wrestle but why outside of the ring? She asked with genuine curiosity.

“ Well for starters it was always something they had us do in training. Getting into the habit so you don’t accidentally call someone by their shoot name, like their real name, in the ring or at an event. So it’s just kinda a habit at this point. But, and I am about to blow your mind here,” He leaned in close and looked around the room dramatically, before leaning in closer and whispering “ His name isn’t Cassidy either!” He covered his mouth like he just let out the biggest bombshell as his eyes smiled at Jenna who just looked at him in stunned silence. 

“ Wait, wait, wait! You’re telling me that Cassidy isn’t Cassidy’s name, no fucking way! Even Tara calls him that, and in moments where, first of all I wish I didn’t know this information, but moments where she would definitely be using his real name…” Darby scrunched up his face in confusion and slowly started cackling.

“ You are telling me he has her calling him Cassidy while they’re fucking!? Yooo he will never ever fucking live this down I swear to God” He was basically in hysterics at this point as Jenna just looked at him in confusion over this whole name fiasco. 

“ Well what the fuck, so if you guys use your wrestling names all the time I’m assuming Darby isn’t your real name either then is it?” 

“No, it’s not but that's all anyone calls me.”

“ Well what is your real name?” Jenna was brimming with curiosity at this point the awkward tension had left the air and it seemed they were both having a decent time. Unfortunately before he  could answer her the door swung open and Tara and not so Cassidy walked up to the table. 

“ Are you guys just not going to eat?” Cassidy asked, raising one eyebrow up as he glanced over the table. Enjoying the conversation both Jenna and Darby had neglected to notice the waitress had come back and placed everyone's food on the table in front of them.

“ Oh shit I didn’t even notice she had come back over! It’s getting late now and I know Jenna mentioned having to work in the morning, I’m gonna grab some boxes and we can head back to my car if that’s okay with you guys?” He questioned as he looked around the group who all nodded in agreement as the sleepiness of the day was finally catching up to them. 

“ Cool, I'll be right back. Oh! Hey Orange by the way, what took so long to find your wallet?” He smirked and looked between the two as Tara blushed and looked at the floor. 

“ Shut the fuck up Darby before I kick your pale ass” Cassidy smacked him on the back of the head pushing him towards the counter where the to go boxes where stacked up. 

“ Speaking of which, I have a question about that situation I need to ask you about later… Oh sweet Cassidy.” Jenna tried to stifle her laughter but couldn’t and they all looked over at her in confusion, except Darby who started laughing just as hard as he walked away. Before she could be questioned too much Darby was back with boxes and a receipt for his food. They boxed up their meals and headed to the counter. As Jenna went to get her wallet out she felt Darbys hand brush it away. She looked up at him with her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“ You have given me priceless information tonight, the least I could do was buy your dinner. Plus let me use it as a way to make up for our friends throwing us into a whole blind date.” He said in a surprisingly sweet tone. As much as she wanted to ignore the butterflies in her stomach from his touch, she couldn’t. All she could do was smile and accept his kindness, even though he had also been thrown into this, just as much as she had. 

They all headed back out to the car and rode in silence as quiet music played in the background. Once they got back to the venue to separate into their respective  cars, which just meant Jenna switching to take the passenger seat in Tara's car, Darby ran around and opened her door for her. While they let the love birds say their goodbyes, they said their own. The awkwardness had crept back in, not knowing was this a date? Should she give him a hug, he did get her dinner. Trying to think on her feet she brought back up the topic they left off on in the restaurant. 

“ So you never told me, if Darby isn’t your real name what is it?” She questioned him, becoming very conscious of how small the space between them was. She felt herself shiver and tried to convince herself it was just from the cold. 

“ I tell you what, this turned out, at least to me, better than I was anticipating. So let me officially ask you on a real date and if we go out again I’ll tell you.” He propositioned confidently, but his body language gave him away. He was shifting his weight back and forth while he twisted his hands around and looked at the ground. Before she could even think about what it would mean to say yes she had already blurted out , a little too enthusiastically, absolutely. Darby smiled at her and nodded his head, unable to really say anything, because he couldn’t believe she had actually said yes. They exchanged numbers and a quick side hug just in time for Cassidy to step out of Taras car. He gave Jenna a quick hug and pointed Darby to the car. The lateness of the night had really hit hard , and as she got into the passenger seat a yawn slipped out. Before Tara could begin her interrogation Jenna felt her phone buzz and quickly pulled it out to see who was texting her this late on a weeknight. 

I had a great time meeting you tonight, I’m really excited to take you on an official first date. Sleep good and text me whenever - sam 

#darby allin #aew #jon moxley #aew fanfiction #all elite wrestling #orange cassidy #female oc #darby x oc

[raksh-writes]

Late night devil (put your hands on me)

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Nogitsune/Stiles Stilinski

Words: ~5,5k

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: sorta sickfic, shameless smut, dom/sub, praise kink, and the likes -- for more info and tags check the work over on AO3!

I've had a pretty tough week, but somehow managed to produce this one-shot while 100% self-projecting onto Stiles soooo, hope it's gonna be an enjoyable read! ^^ It definitely feels good to finally have something to post for my favorite bbies 💗🥰 Title from "Teeth" by 5SOS because I Love the song (or rather this one specific slowed down, deeper version ^^) and the chorus is just SO Voiles 😩💗 Also, big thanks to my lovely beta and best friend ever @flowers-for-stiles for giving this one a read through 💗💗

And, as always, hope this one’s gonna be a lovely read to y’all ^^ 💗

.

Overstimulation was never a word Stiles thought would apply to him. In fact, he’d say that for most of his life he’s rather been on the quite opposite spectrum — understimulated and always looking for something new to occupy himself with, to give his hyperactive brain to munch on and chase away all the nervous jitters that came with not enough stimuli, his attention drifting too easily. Then his magic happened, always abuzz under his skin, always seeking new ways for release and always, always craving more, which — he never really minded much. It was exciting and perfectly suited for his inquisitive nature; figuring out how to exist in harmony with his new powers, how to keep them satisfied and calmly flowing right alongside his blood. And— well…

Since he finally gave in to Void, since their connection turned into an infinite mating bond, it’s been all the easier to fulfill all his different cravings — the demon always more than happy to wring any last drop of sensation out of Stiles, leaving him completely spent and satisfied. And it’s been perfect, thus far. Void has also been the one to truly introduce the term into his life, relentless and hungry for anything and everything Stiles would give him, never backing down until he has it all and more. But Stiles loves it, the way the demon can bring him right to the sharpest edge of the purest pain-pleasure and keep him there until he’s a crying, begging mess — guiding him to the brink of overstimulation and past it, playing on his senses as if he’s been made for it, made for every whim and wish of the fox demon, more than happy to bend each and every way Void asks of him. But that’s the fun part, the part Stiles loves and cherishes and could never turn away from, what’s happening now, though…

Rubbing over his aching eyes, Stiles battles with the urge to throw it all to hell and just go lay down — the arguably most important exam this semester is three days away and he should be studying his ass off but instead can barely focus on the notes right in front of him. And it’s not the usual mind-drifting he’s been used to his whole life too — no, that one he already knows how to deal with, but this— This is a whole other beast.

The past few days he could barely sit through his lectures, every tone shift of his professors’ voices, every scrape of a chair over the floor so aggravating to his ears he flinched every time, shoulders drawn up high as if to help mute the world around him. God, he doesn’t even want to think how it’d feel if his senses were stronger than they are; just the whispers of his fellow students too much at any given moment. The bright lights overhead never helped either, making him squint so much his eyes would water and ache in a matter of hours — he'd been so beat at the end of the day he could just about only go to sleep. None of the notes he tried writing down make any sense now and Stiles has no recollection of what’s been discussed too — normally, he could get most of the material memorized just by listening, but these days it feels like he hasn’t retained anything from his classes. The exam’s quickly approaching and it looks more and more as if his mind is just not going to cooperate, bruised and aching inside his head.

With a sigh, Stiles braces his forehead on his palm and looks down on the pages upon pages of material, trying to read the words that refuse to make sense in his tender brain. A constant pressure keeps pushing at his skull from inside out, blunt and insistent, centered at the forefront of his head but also so widely spread it seems like no corner of his mind is unaffected, all and any thoughts scrambled like the eggs he ate this morning — without much appetite too, nausea rolling against the walls of his stomach like waves over the shore; not strong, but notable enough to make eating more of a chore than anything else. Even the amazing chicken noodle soup Void brought him didn’t seem to taste quite as it should on his tongue — and Stiles has a niggling suspicion the demon went all the way to Poland to get him some proper rosół. Just why he did remains a mystery, but the week’s been weird enough already and with how constantly Void has been bringing him meals — comfort ones, nonetheless — he’d guess the demon was just bored and looking for entertainment. It’s not like Stiles had the time or mind for anything this week — between the finals season in full swing, his unresponsive brain and the part-time job eating away at his free time, it felt like he barely even managed to get some evening cuddles and few kisses here and there from his mate. It’s really been… fucking hell, it’s really been a week.

Halfway through reading the same sentence for the third time in a row without comprehending any of what it conveys, Stiles swears under his nose and puts down the pen in his hand — it clunks on the wood, making him flinch.

“Well, that’s fucking it,” he mutters, hands roughly rubbing down his face before he finally pushes himself away from the desk.

The sunlight pouring inside through the window is already muted with the oncoming dusk, but soon enough it’ll be overcome by the lights of the neighborhood — they might live in a calm district on the outskirts of the city, but the nights are still much more awake than they were back at home in Beacon Hills, so even now it’s bright enough to make him squint. Shading his eyes as he comes up to their bedroom’s large window, Stiles pulls down the dark blinds they installed and closes the heavy curtains over them, just for a good measure — it makes the room almost completely dark, and Stiles can finally breathe out in relief. Tapping the wall to activate all the different soundproofing sigils he put in place — cutting all the noises from both outside and inside from getting in or out — he takes off his clothes exactly where he stands, uncaring of where they land, and — at last — crawls into bed.

Groaning low in his chest, Stiles curls up under the soft sheets, bunching up the duvet around his half-naked body as tightly as possible — and as much as he likes to grouse at Void for constantly bringing in new, expensive sets when they really don’t need them, he can’t deny they feel absolutely amazing on his skin, especially with how over-sensitive to everything he seems to be. Finally settling down, Stiles pushes his face into the pillows as he cuddles another one close to his chest, a small whine caught inside his lungs — the only thing he’s missing right now in his cocoon of warmth and comfort is the demon himself, and oh, does Stiles miss the bastard something fierce. Where even is his mate when Stiles needs him here so much [so] it hurts?

Okay, most of it is the weird sensory overload he’s been having for the large part of this week, but now — finally alone in their bed, cuddled up in their sheets with the room completely blacked out and silenced — his instincts call out for his missing partner, the one that always brings him relief whenever he needs it, whatever it might be. And his magic continues to buzz under his skin, unsettled and somewhat irate, as if angry with him for reasons Stiles can’t begin to understand; his mind too overwhelmed with the pressure pushing at his skull, his head both too heavy and too airy-light on his shoulders, and senses too fried and sensitive to the smallest stimuli, yet still — his magic continues to hum a frustrated tune, as aggravating as chalk on a board.

Stiles frowns, rubbing his face into the pillow. Come to think of it, in all the messiness of the ongoing week, he hasn’t let his magic burn its course even once — it needs release just as much as he does, if not more, and it’s become normal to find ways for it to do so. Which, more so than not, Void has always helped him out with — especially since his magic seemed content to flow with the ebb of their shared pleasure, maybe finding in it the life essence and energy it thrived on, then settled right alongside Stiles whenever his mate took his loving time with him. Although.. that might’ve been also partly because of how spent he always is after.

Something tight and aching takes hold of Stiles’ chest as the absence of his mate grows, empty and echoing in the pure silence around him, in the lack of Void’s cool touch, his deep, rumbling voice, his hot, soft lips. Stiles chokes down a whine, a small little thing in his throat, as his fingers reach up to gently graze over the black rune on his pec, right above his heart. It probably won’t do anything if Void’s absorbed in whatever he’s doing on the other end of the world and their bond — possibly feeding, but it’s hard to glimpse when they’re so far apart and Stiles can barely focus on functioning just by himself — but still, Stiles tries to look down their connection; tries to send the smallest little trickle of a request, a plea, hoping it’ll catch his mate’s attention. Then he retreats, already exhausted beyond what should be normal, yet too keyed up with magic abuzz in his veins and his mind scrambled inside his skull to rest, to fall asleep and maybe wake up to strong arms at his waist and a sharp smile at his nape.

He’s not sure how much time has passed — could’ve been minutes, could’ve been hours, maybe he even nodded off at some point — but finally, the covers rustle. Cool air slips under the duvet, making his shiver, but before he can voice his protest, Void curls around his mostly naked body, flush against his back and strong arm around his middle as their sheets are safely tucked back, and Stiles exhales a wavering breath, the relief so strong and airy in his chest it brings a thin veil of tears to his eyes.

Weak mewl on his lips, Stiles pushes away the pillow he’s been hugging in favor of embracing back his mate’s arm, so sure and perfect on his waist.

“Hush, sweetheart,” the demon murmurs, mouth gentle on the back of his neck, muffling his voice in Stiles’ skin as if to avoid aggravating his ears — words more felt than heard as Stiles shudders.

He tries pushing back closer to his mate, encouraged by how readily Void pulls him in; the demon slides one arm under his pillow too, so Stiles can rest on it, cuddling him up as perfectly as ever. By now, they’re completely flush against each other and yet — it somehow doesn’t seem like enough. The demon’s presence is soothing as it always it, part of Stiles’ still unsettled magic calming down as their bond widens and thrums between them so it can flow through easily, but Stiles’ head stays unbelievably heavy, no thoughts formed that would make any sense — and still, he craves.

Void pushes his knee between Stiles’ legs, the silky material of his sleeping pants cool and slippery against his skin, fingers spreading out on his belly as Void trails his nose over the back of Stiles’ neck — then he makes a frustrated sound, barely-heard as it sticks to the back of his throat as if he didn’t quite mean to let it out.

“What is it?” Stiles asks in a whisper, so low it’s almost inaudible, but with Void’s sharp senses and their connection, the volume scarcely matters. The arm around his middle tightens, hand reaching higher over his stomach, and he moves his own palm to cover it, threading fingers between Void’s.

“You’re hurting,” the demon answers, almost a growl the way his voice rumbles, the vibration all kinds of lovely against Stiles’ back like a purr, but there’s frustration in his voice too, accusation even — though not directed at Stiles, “but I can’t take it. And I don’t know why.” Brows furrowed, Void brushes his face against Stiles’ neck, scenting him so thoroughly as if the mere gesture could wipe away the hurt he’s not able to absorb.

Stiles’ heart squeezes tight in his chest as he swallows thickly, all at once remembering all the little moments throughout the week, when his mate would touch and scent him with a bit more insistence than normally; Void must’ve been furious at his usual tricks being rendered basically useless. And the thought fills Stiles with both gratitude and an astute ache for his mate.

“It’s not painful,” he assures, shifting just slightly so he can look back at Void — not that he can see much in the pitch blackness, but his demon gets the hint, nudging their noses together. “It’s just… extremely uncomfortable.” If only that made it better, not just different…

Void moves his arm, bringing his fingers down to trail lightly over Stiles’ cheek, under his chin — and Stiles curls his hand around Void’s forearm, just under the elbow, comforted by being able to hold onto his mate.

“What do you need of me then, little fox?” the demon asks, oh so softly, as gentle and soothing as Stiles ever heard him. “Tell me.”

Stiles licks his lips, mind still in jumbles as he tries to come up with something, anything, to tell his mate, to assure there’s a way he could help, could bring him comfort. His magic buzzes, pins and needles swimming through his veins, demanding and irate at being ignored.

Squirming in place, Stiles grimaces — and can almost see the frown rising to Void’s face.

“Stiles?”

He reaches up, somehow able to find Void’s neck and curl his fingers around the back, the move pressing him even more flush against his mate. Tugging at his demon, Stiles leans up for a kiss, a weak little sound slipping out when Void readily complies, mouth soft and hot as he opens him up, slowly lapping between his parted lips as if drinking in the droplets of his pleasure right from his tongue. It’s deep and unhurried and as intense as everything always is with Void, working more perfectly than he could’ve anticipated at pushing away the insistent pressure in his skull to the back of his mind — the sweet, sweet fog of arousal swimming to the forefront instead.

Their breaths are heavy and quick as they part, and Stiles grinds his hips back, just the slightest of moves, biting down on his lips at the barely-audible growl behind him.

“You could try and distract me,” he offers, voice scarcely more than a breathy whisper, fingers twinning with the short hair at his demon’s nape.

“Try?” Void repeats, a purr rising in his chest that’s so deep and low it’s all but a lovely massage on Stiles’ back. “You really should know better than to tease me, kitten, or have you forgotten just who you belong to? Maybe I should give you a reminder.”

Stiles shivers, acutely aware of the leg pushed between his own and the hand slowly trailing up his belly, up his chest — Void brushes a claw against his nipple and the moan slips unbidden, his spine curving up into the touch.

“Or maybe you’re just so desperate for it, huh? How long has it been, sweetheart? A week? Even more?” Void’s teasing him, that’s clear enough, but the words curl tightly around Stiles’ heart all the same — because it surely has been and Stiles hasn't even realized he’s been neglecting his mate so much. Then Void tweaks his nipple sharply and a spark of pain shoots straight down to his hips so hot and electric Stiles forgets everything else on a small, breathy moan. “It’s really been too long, I see. Already getting so hot and needy for me when I've barely done anything yet, aren’t you?” And Stiles really, really is, delicious heat spreading in his hips as his erection begins to strain against his underwear. Void chuckles, tugging at his nipple sharp and hard enough he gasps, whole body jolting back into the demon. “Seems I have to take good care of you tonight, kitten. What do you say?”

“Please…” Stiles curves back into his mate, desperation slowly rising way down in his core to climb higher and higher the longer Void continues his teasing.

“Hush, sweetheart,” Void shushes him, rubbing his nose and cheek on Stiles’ neck. “I’ll give you what you need.”

A small whine sticks to the back of his throat, but then Void’s nibbling at his collarbone, teeth sharp and mouth purposeful, hand trailing back down over his belly, his hip — and, finally, to his erection, hot and throbbing under the thin material of his boxers. But Void doesn’t make a move to slide them off, no — instead, he brushes his fingers against Stiles’ dick over the briefs, waking an almost violent shudder in return.

“Void—” Stiles moans, begs really, but Void shushes him again, a sharp bite left at the back of his ear — just as much a reminder as an order. Stiles whines low in his chest, but surrenders to the sweet torture just the same.

Void curls his fingers around Stiles’ dick, rubbing at the head through the soaked cloth with his thumb, seemingly indifferent to all the little mewls spilling from his mate’s lips as he continues to bite and nibble bruises into Stiles’ neck. Pressing back against the demon, Stiles shudders at the feeling of Void’s cock slowly filling up, thickening so long and perfect against his ass — then something soft and ethereal brushes against his stomach, rising up his chest, and catches on his nipple, almost like a feather. Shivering, Stiles curves up and into the new sensation, even just the thought of what it truly is stocking up the fierce heat in his hips.

“That’s it, kitten,” the demon praises, voice honey-thick and sweet like molasses, “so good for me.”

Stiles whines, long and low in his throat, rutting back into his mate in a silent plea — Void chuckles but, finally, slips his hand under Stiles’ boxers and takes his throbbing erection, starting up a rhythm so slow and just tight enough it’s all but ramping up the needy thing in Stiles’ core into pure, physical desperation that has him squirming and moaning for more. A handjob isn’t exactly what Stiles had in mind, not with that perfect cock rubbing against his ass with every little move he makes, but he’s not about to complain — and for all he knows, Void might have his own plans for the night. Which— The moment another soft, light as a feather sensation brushes over the back of his thigh, right where it meets the curve of his butt, it becomes clear he does — Stiles shivers, anticipation flaring so hot and bright in his core it makes him dizzy.

“Easy, little fox,” Void soothes, keeping his strokes so infuriatingly light and unhurried Stiles would’ve been ready to strangle him if he wasn’t already so desperate and into this whole game they’ve been playing. “Be good and you can come whenever you want to.”

Another moan sticks to his tongue — it’s so rare that he gets permission so quickly, so easily, but it also makes him want to hold out for as long as possible, just to prove how good he can be for his mate. And—

“How—” A violent shudder cuts through his words as that soft, ethereal touch climbs up under his boxers, over the curve of his ass and in-between his cheeks, teasing at his rim with little, kitten licks. “How many?” His voice is no more than a breathy moan, hips shamelessly rutting into that sensation that doesn’t budge even an inch, moving right with him.

Void’s smile against his neck is as sharp as his teeth. “As many as you’ll have strength for.”

There’s probably no more than two in him, but Stiles still whines high in his throat, whole-body shiver rocking him against Void as that ethereal sensation pushes in, so smooth and silky it slips inside without resistance, spreading him as deliciously as Void’s fingers would — and Stiles is so used to taking his mate, to opening up for him whenever and however the demon wants him, it only flares with more heated pleasure in his hips, so sharp and acute he mewls, already dancing on the edge but too far away to fall.

“Please!” he begs, mind scrambled and unable to decide if he should rut back into Void or up into the hand moving so agonizingly slow on his dick.

“Hush, kitten, hush,” Void shushes him yet again, finally — finally — grinding his long, thick cock into Stiles’ ass, against that sensation spreading him open and rubbing that perfect, shivery-sweet spot over and over and over again. “I told you — whenever you want to.” Stiles whines, begs, really, desperately trying to press back into the touch that doesn’t change, as relentless as Void always is, grazing his prostate in the sweetest pressure calculated to bring him higher and higher and higher until it feels like he’s gonna burst but he can’t— can’t— “Oh,” Void smirks, sharp and almost cruel under his ear, “you need me to tell you, don’t you?”

“Yes!” Stiles calls out, voice thin, as if he could manage anything more but a breathy half-whisper, half-moan, “yes, please!—”

“Hush,” Void murmurs, hand tightening around Stiles’ dick as the ethereal touch solidifies, quickens, “such a perfect mate,” he praises, so low and sweet and soft as his hand is anything but, hard and sure and demanding — Stiles jolts, mewls— “you can come for me now, kitten.”

And he does — squirming and shuddering and little moans spilling out his parted lips. The touch doesn’t ease off, rubbing against his prostate all shivery and sweet as the pleasure pulses through his whole body, muscles clenching and unclenching and the heat burning so high it wipes away everything else. Void keeps stroking him through his orgasm with a slow, measured pace, nose pressed into Stiles’ neck and breathing in with his whole chest; as he finally starts to come down, Void’s hand gentles and that ethereal pressure slowly retreats, leaving him empty and gaping, twitching around nothing where there should be a knot to keep him all spread and full.

With tremors still rocking through his whole body, Stiles reaches back for his mate — tugs at Void as he leans up and whines into the kiss that follows, slow and messy and as intense as ever. When they part, Stiles can’t help but steal a few more — the magic settled down in his blood with the perfect release his mate provided but a part of him left bereft, still longing for what he should’ve gotten.

Slowly, a little hesitantly, he nudges his hips back, shuddering as Void’s cock fits perfectly against his ass — before the demon can say anything, he pushes up into another kiss, catching his lips in a far filthier, deeper one that Void immediately returns, a low growl vibrating in his chest. And as he licks into his open mouth so hot and hungry, Stiles takes back his hand and reaches down, slipping it under Void’s silky sleeping pants until he can curl his fingers around that mouth-watering cock. They both groan then, breaths mixed between their joined lips, and Stiles strokes his palm down the impressive length, a whine catching in his throat when he can feel the slight swelling at the base. It wouldn’t last long but fuck, does Stiles need it.

“Void, please…” he begs quietly, eyes already slightly wet from the intensity of his previous orgasm — his magic renders his refractory period almost nonexistent, but the slight edge of oversensitivity seems to linger now, and it will only make it more delicious.

Void rolls his hips into Stiles’ strokes, a growl vibrating low and deep in his chest. “Still haven’t had enough, kitten?” he asks, a slightly mocking edge to his words, but Stiles only nods, steals the shortest kiss he can manage — and that growl turns into something more like a purr. “Aren’t you a desperate, needy little thing,” he muses, but Stiles can recognize that amused, delighted tinge to it that makes a sweet shiver roll down his spine.

“Please, I need it,” Stiles squirms in his mate’s hold, acutely aware Void’s hand is still resting on his half-hard dick, under the soiled cloth of his boxers, “I need your knot, please—”

“Well, kitten… if you ask so nicely.”

Retrieving his hand, Void hooks his fingers in the boxer’s band before sliding it down under Stiles’ butt — but otherwise leaves them on, forcing Stiles to curl up a bit so the cloths’ pressure on his throbbing erection isn’t too stinging yet still very much present; and it flares the heat in his core all the higher for it, something about just his boxers staying on as Void fucks and knots him right here and now making all his senses absolutely thrill under his skin. And he doesn’t waste any more time, angling his hips and stroking down Void’s cock until the head catches against his rim, already so hot and throbbing he just about goes into a frenzy even before pushing himself down on it, pressing back until the head slips in — his breath hitches and Stiles stills, just for a second, yet Void only brushes his palm over his hip and doesn’t move further. Swallowing down, Stiles brings his hand forward to hold onto the sheets, and presses back again, moaning high in his throat as he continues to sink down on Void’s cock; as it spreads and opens him up as deliciously as ever and yet somehow always feeling completely new. When his ass finally rests flush against Void’s hips, the barely-there swelling just that more of a perfect stretch, a shuddery breath escapes his lungs — and the demon smirks sharply against his nape.

“Good kitten,” the praise slips like liquid honey down his tongue, flaring the heat deep inside Stiles back into that desperate need, voiced only in a whine. But Void’s sure hand curls around Stiles’ hip in a tight grip, unmistakable in its intent, and Stiles trembles, spin melting all pliant and malleable for his mate. “Very well, sweetheart, just like that,” the demon soothes, bending his other arm to place a palm on Stiles’ throat, tip his head back so it rests on his shoulder in perfect submission. “Be good and let me fuck you the way you need it, kitten,” his voice rumbles on the edge of a growl and Stiles bites down a moan, shuddering as that soft, silky touch comes back again — curling around his thigh, wide and almost fluffy in texture, then narrowing down his knee until it coils around his ankle, spreading him out over the leg Void already pushed between his. “Then — you can come on my knot. Sounds good, little fox?”

“Yes, pleeease—” He tries turning his head back, doesn’t really know what for, but Void meets him halfway — thumb tipping Stiles’ chin just the right way so he can catch his lips in a soft kiss, gentle and unhurried and slowly licking into his open mouth as he pulls away his hips, then pushes forward into Stiles, drinking in the mewl that slips from his mouth.

Void sets a pace that’s just as unhurried as his kiss, thrusts long and deep and angled perfectly right to rub against Stiles’ prostate, keeping almost constant pressure on that shivery-sweet spot that pulses and throbs in time with his dick, steadily leaking into the already soaked material of his underwear. The pleasure builds higher and higher and higher with every stroke, with every slide of Void’s cock inside Stiles, all hot and thick and just big enough to make him sore in the most dizzyingly wonderful way — the moans and whines slipping from his lips are constant now, so Void moves down his neck, kissing and nipping deep, bright bruises into his neck. In a bout of bravery or desperation — or maybe both at once — Stiles reaches back, gripping at Void’s hip as the demon quickens his pace, just slightly, and the knot at the base of his cock swells some more, spreading Stiles wider and wider every time its pushed in.

“Voooiid—” It’s a one, long whine more than his mate’s name, but the heat is getting so strong and burning Stiles is about ready to claw out of his own skin, he needs it so fucking much.

“Hush,” Void orders, an edge of steel to his voice — he moves his palm up Stiles’ throat, up his chin, until he can slip two fingers inside his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. “Be good, I said. Or I’ll change my mind — and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Stiles whines, shaking his head fervently as fresh saliva fills up his mouth — Void smirks, fingers working into Stiles’ mouth as if facefucking him like he normally would; and it’s so, so much hotter than Stiles could’ve ever imagined he trembles, images of all those times flashing through his mind bright and burning low in his hips.

“Good kitten,” Void murmurs, more of a purr than anything else, and he speeds up his thrusts — shorter, but still as deep as he can make them, the swelling knot pushing through and spreading Stiles’ more and more open but never enough to slide in and catch. A whine builds in his lungs, Stiles’ palm flexing on Void’s hip as he tries to hold on, sucks on those fingers in his mouth as he would on Void’s cock. “Very good, sweetheart, keep at it. You’ll come on my knot, and on my knot alone. I know you can, isn’t that right, kitten?”

Stiles moans his assent, a whole-hearted agreement, the desperate need that’s burning so hot it’s unbearable, and trembles down to his very bones as his muscles start to clench, the pleasure spreading and building and so, so, so fucking close. Yes, yes, fuck, he needs— needs, please!—

“Such a perfect mate for me,” Void murmurs — and thrusts sharply, sliding all the way inside Stiles so the knot catches in his ass and swells, spreading and stretching and filling him up so perfectly his whine is almost a scream as he tumbles into his own orgasm, shaking so badly the demon needs to hug him close, hold him still as the pleasure swims between them both, bright and hot and pulsing like life’s very heartbeat.

Trembling and jolting as it crests anew every time he can feel his mate’s release as acutely as his own, Stiles can’t help but push back against Void one more time; relish the feel of his thick, throbbing cock and swollen knot deep and perfectly snug inside his ass, lazy spurts of come against his hot flesh flaring the heat in most delicious ways. Long moments later, when it slowly ebbs away into just a lovely echo spreading through his hips once in a while, Stiles has no more strength left and, finally, melts into his demon’s embrace, warm and content.

“Stay,” is the only thing he manages to say, mind a mushy fluff inside his skull and muscles all loose and pliant throughout his whole body.

“Not going anywhere, sweetheart,” the demon assures, pulling him close as the soiled boxers are slowly slid down his legs and off, the soft, silky touch still in place around his leg and middle even with Void’s arm and hand hugged close over his stomach.

The clean-up is short and quick and passes Stiles by before he can notice much of it, but even then Void makes no move to detach them, hips still flush against his ass and knot well and snug inside Stiles, keeping him perfectly filled and open.

Good, his magic is satisfied for the moment, but nothing’s there to say he won’t need some more in the morning. And— well. Falling asleep on Void’s cock only to wake up slowly rocked on it, already hot and throbbing with pleasure deep in his core, is probably one of, if not the favorite way for Stiles to wake up, so he definitely wouldn’t mind that, not one bit. And going by the low chuckle at his nape, Void must agree.

“Rest, little fox,” he murmurs, nose trailing down Stiles’ neck as he cuddles him up a little tighter, the lowest of purrs vibrating into Stiles’ back, as soothing as only his mate’s presence could ever be.

With a content sigh, Stiles places his arm over Void’s and laces their fingers together, hugging it closer to his chest as he drifts off — finally able to rest.

#voiles #stiles stilinski #nogitsune #nogitsune/stiles #void stiles #stigitsune #stiles stilinski fanfic #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #My writing #Raksh's writing #voiles one-shot #voiles smut #ahhh felt so good to write my bbies again and be able to post it 🥰🥰 #it's been super fun to write #so hope it's just as fun to read! ^^

[kamiranna77]

~ Part 1. ~

I started almost the third week of studying in the first year of high school. The subject I couldn't handle was... Latin. I had it three times a day - two hours on Monday in the second and third lessons, on Wednesday in the fourth lesson and on Friday in the seventh and eighth lessons.

"By the way, it's not normal to finish lessons at 3:20 pm on Friday, but well... The plan will not change anymore..." I thought.

The subject was terribly difficult for me, because I spent a lot of time learning it, but it was still tragic - out of all 29 people in the class, I was the only one who was the worst at this subject. I managed to get four barely stretched weak D...

Fortunately, at the beginning of October we were supposed to be taught Latin by a new teacher.

The first Monday of the new month has finally arrived. As always, alone in her place - the third bench against the wall.

Besides, I'm allowed to sit alone in other lessons too...

This is because there were an odd number of people in the class, and on top of that I was averagely liked in my class. I tried not to worry about it.

Finally, the classroom door opened and the new Latin teacher walked in. Dressed in black tight pants, shiny black shoes, a white shirt, a neatly knotted black tie, and a black jacket.

He placed a journal, a Latin book, and a thick hardback notebook on his desk. Once he had put his things away, he turned to face the class so I could get a better look at him now - he had shoulder-length raven black hair and piercing green eyes. I felt my heart beating extremely fast... I promised myself that I would handle the item as best I could.

Finally the teacher spoke:

„Good morning, class. My name is Loki Laufeyson and from this month until fourth grade I will teach you Latin. Respectfully, but when you address me, you always say 'Sir' or 'Professor'. I will also prove to you that Latin is not as difficult a language as it seems. First of all, I don't do quizzes, but... I take it for answers. Taking into account I have two types of polling and you get two grades. First, writing at the blackboard and possibly answering orally at my desk. Both at the blackboard and at the table it is one assessment. In both cases, I ask three sentences. As for the second assessment, you take your notebook with your homework to answer and there is also a mark for it. What else can I say?” He thought for a moment and began to stroke his chin with his fingers. „In addition, I can walk around the classroom, say a given sentence, and then point to a person of my choice to finish it. You get two chances, if you don't answer you get an F. I also do not apply the 'lucky number' rule, you have the right to report three unpreparedness during the semester that you report while reading the attendance list by me. Thus, I do not tolerate cell phone use during my lessons, there is also no cheating, no hints when answering, and most importantly, no talking in class... I also extremely do not tolerate any lateness to my lessons, because I can be very vindictive.

After that, the teacher sat down at his desk and finally opened his diary. He looked up at the class for a moment.

„I'm going to check the attendance list now, and when I read the name of any of you, it's a request to stand up and show yourself to me. Believe me, I can immediately remember your faces and also important information - you do not change places under any circumstances.”

Finally, the man started reading the number and the names of my classmates one by one, until I finally heard mine:

„Number 22, Y/N?”

I stood up unsteadily, curtseying slightly. I felt my teacher's gaze on me longer than on the other girls in my class. I thought maybe it was because I was wearing a skirt. Finally, the professor nodded at me, signaling me to sit down.

After two hours of Latin, I could finally breathe... I didn't realize it was going to be hard. On Wednesday and Friday, the stairs started - the new teacher started completely new topics and to be honest...

I was starting to not understand anything, and I was ashamed to raise my hand and report that I had a problem with the topic.

I was afraid to embarrass myself in front of the class and most importantly in front of the new teacher...

#loki laufeyson #loki smut #loki x y/n #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x teen!reader #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut