#[ i'll be doing these when i get back from class ]

[shouyuus]

sfw; human!jinu au

right but human!au jinu who's kind of a bastard when you first meet him because he was abandoned as a kid or something and is viciously insecure so he tries to keep his distance just to make sure he can never get hurt like that again, because so long as he keeps people at arm's length then they won't have the power to hurt him. uses his looks to fool around a bit in college, is pretty good at sports, so probably on the basketball team, builds up this reputation for being kind of a fuckboy jock, but you could've sworn you've seen him sitting by himself in the library, tucked into the corner table, humming to himself, so quietly that he probably doesn't think anyone can hear.

who meets your eyes sometimes in the dining commons and you can see the facade flicker, just for a moment.

"the library's closing soon."

he jolts awake, jerking up, wincing as his cheek unsticks itself from a page in his music theory textbook. he blinks up at you for a solid three seconds before he gathers himself enough for words --

"-- shit, sorry uh --" he grabs at his papers and books, trying to shove them into his bag even as you drop into the seat next to him, cocking your head as you watch.

"that was a joke," you say, completely straight-faced, "you know that the library doesn't actually close, right?"

jinu freezes; the tips of his ears are a vivid, burning red.

a tiny grin twitches at the corner of your lips.

he turns back to face you, a frown dug deep between his brows.

"and who're you again?"

you reach into your bag and tug out a stack of papers and a red pen. he eyes it with mild curiosity.

"i'm the ta for that music theory class you've been 'auditing' for nearly an entire semester," you answer, jerking your chin towards the textbook still peaking out of his bag.

the heat works it's way into his cheeks till he's red down to the roots of his hair. he clears his throat, grasps for something to say but he comes up empty. so he settles for frowning a bit harder and crossing his arms, staring as you start to mark up the papers.

"you've got a good voice y'know." you don't look up.

jinu jumps so hard his knee bangs into the table. he hisses with pain, curling into the chair as you glance up.

"ow -- fuck!"

you blink at him as he sighs, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly.

"you should just take the class if you want to that badly."

"whatever."

"i mean, i could kick you out," you muse, dropping your eyes back to the papers, "technically, you're not allowed to 'audit' a class for more than the first month but since i'm the one who takes attendance..." you trail off.

jinu scoffs, "right. cool. so what is it? what'dya want? front row seats to the big game next week? abby's number? a date with me?" he smirks.

you cock an eyebrow, "i... think i'll pass... on all the above, thanks. why're you so cagey about taking a music theory class, anyway?"

jinu stares at you for a moment before shrugging, "'s just not... on brand for... someone like me, y'know?"

your eyebrows ascend the planes of your forehead as you deadpan at him. he withers slightly, scratching at the back of his head, tugging on the strings of his hoodie, his eyes flickering across the table like a frantic dragonfly, uncertain of the waters below.

"on... brand?" you prompt.

at this, jinu sighs, slumping back in his seat and casting his eyes towards the ceiling.

"it's just -- the team'd probably -- i dunno -- make fun of me or something if they found out --"

you frown, "who cares about that?"

jinu flicks his eyes at you, "i do -- they're kinda my friends."

"doesn't really sound like friends if you can't even take a music class without them judging you."

jinu rolls his eyes, "yeah well... they're the only friends i've got so."

you resume your grading, "not the only friends."

jinu huffs out a breath, "really? and who else --" but he cuts off as soon as you glance up to meet his eyes.

you watch as his cheeks mottle with color and he chews on his bottom lip. after another churning, thickening silence, he asks --

"why're you doing this?"

you sigh, putting down your pen.

"like i said, you've got a nice voice. and you seem to really like the class. i just think that you'd do well in it, that's all."

"that's... really all?"

you nod. a soft, disbelieving smile ghosts across his lips. it looks strange on him, like his muscles don't quite remember what it's like to do such a thing without an ulterior motive.

his eyes flicker from the papers to your face. the little smile tugs into a much more practiced grin, his eyebrows quirking into his signature smolder.

"so. you gonna gimme the pop quiz questions for class tomorrow morning?"

you rap him on the forehead with your red pen.

"don't push it."

jinu laughs, the sound deep and charming.

"c'mooooon. i thought we were friends, hm?" his smile is devious and wide and altogether way too roguish.

you bite down the heat slowly working it's way up your neck and recompose yourself as you go back to your grading.

"but i could be convinced into helping you study for it. because that's what friends are supposed to do."

jinu's smile flickers for a second before it settles into something a bit softer, a bit sadder, and he nods.

"yeah... yeah, i think i can live with that."

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Eternally | yandere soulmate au teaser

Summary: Beomgyu is a bully. You wish he would leave you alone but it seems that the only joy he derives from his miserable existence is when he's fucking with you and Kai. He especially loves hurting Kai, his eyes glint every time his cruel words hit a nerve, his grin turning sadistic every time his actions lead to another bruise on Kai's soft skin. Kai, ever the pacifist, tries to avoid any confrontation with the bully, but unfortunately for him, Beomgyu knows how to hit him where it hurts, and that place is you. Kai never seems to be able to control himself when Beomgyu directs his harsh insults towards you, your brave best friend always putting himself in the line of fire to protect you.

Your heart aches for him, breaking every time you see the evidence of Beomgyu's hate on his face and his body. But it'll all be alright, he tells you. As soon as you get your soulmate marks, no doubt getting each other, and you graduate from college, you'll be leaving this awful town and Beomgyu behind. You'll start a new life where he won't be able to hurt you anymore.

You cling onto that, wrapping that hope around yourself every time Beomgyu tries to make you fall apart. But it seems like fate can be even crueler than him...

Warnings: soulmates au, yandere au, bully beomgyu, bsf to lovers kai and reader, noncon, dry humping

It all started when you had stayed back late, grading papers for the class as the TA. You hadn’t expected to find any other students lingering around so you were surprised to hear the sound of someone playing the guitar in the music room.

They sounded really good and you were curious who it was so you went to check it out but to your dismay, it was none other than Beomgyu. You tried to quietly slip out but Beomgyu noticed you, throwing a mocking remark your way that you decide to ignore in favour of running away.

But Beomgyu wasn't happy with that, his long legs helping him quickly catch up to you. He grabs you by the wrist and all but slams you against a wall, hissing in your face for daring to ignore him.

"Don't fucking ignore me, bitch." He snarls and then grins at your shivering form. "What? Got nothing to say now that you don't have your lapdog to take your beating for you?"

Oh how you wish Kai was here. He wouldn't have been able to stand up to Beomgyu but damn would he have tried.

He reaches over to your face and you flinch, worried he'll slap you, your sudden movement pulling your top to the side and exposing your bra to him.

"What do we have here?" He laughs, thumbing the lacey strap. Your entire body goes cold. "Didn't peg you for a slut. What? You wore this hoping he'd see it and fuck you?"

You shake your head, telling him this had nothing to do with Kai. Truth is you'd worn it because you were feeling bad about your body and wanted something to give you confidence back even if no one saw it. You certainly never wished for Beomgyu to see it.

But here he was, ripping your top apart so he can get a better look. You yelp when he does it, and try to cover your chest up with your hands but he quickly gathers them in his own hands and pins them roughly to the wall, growling at you "keep those here if you know what's good for you."

You don't dare move them even when he lets go, even when his hands go your chest to cup your breasts through your bra, even when he's pinching and pulling at your nipples, even when he's pressing his leg between your thighs and ordering you to grind against it.

"Come on, baby, we don't want this to go to waste. I'll give you what that cuck can't. I know your body is dying to be felt up by a real man."

You shake your head, follwing his orders but refusing to acknowledge his words. But that's not good enough for Beomgyu because he grabs your face, his fingers digging into your cheeks, "you don't look very grateful. I am doing you a favour. No one else would give a stupid whore like you the time of day so you better thank me for it, bitch."

The threat in his voice is clear. He won't tolerate your disobedience for much longer so you quickly give in to his humiliating demands, thanking him for touching you, for violating you.

"That's better." He murmurs, satisfied. "I prefer it when you're honest. After all I can feel your filthy pussy dripping down my thigh."

He wasn't lying. God you hate your body for reacting to his unwanted touch.

"Bet you're close. Why don't you beg nicely for me to let you cum."

"Please." You sob, wanting this to end. "Please let me cum."

"Please who?" He pushes, grabbing you by the ass and pushing you down harder on his thigh, making you cry out. "Please beomgyu."

"Good girl." He purrs, moving you over his thigh, his movements much more deliberate and effective than yours, quickly bringing you to the edge and shoving you over it.

Your hands finally move off the wall to grab his shoulders, attempting to ground yourself as your body shakes and shivers through the distressing orgasm, but beomgyu doesn't seem to mind.

As your body comes down from its sweltering high, a chill comes over it when you feel beomgyu's hard cock pressed against your hip, and bile rises in your throat as you think of what he might do to you next.

But to your surprise, he steps back, taking off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders to cover you up.

"If you tell anyone about this, I'll make him bleed."

_____________________

A/N: yes I have reposted it this to make it prettier because I need others to freak out about this idea with me lol

[redandgreyscale]

Asexual Evan who sexualizes himself, and Barty is the one to let him know that it's okay and he doesn't have to force himself

angst always gets me, ask and I shall deliver✨

They've been dating for a month.

In this month, Barty learns a lot of things about Evan. Barty learns Evan likes to tease, learns the way his body moves when he's flirting, the tone on his voice, every single tone of his voice actually. Learns his nervous tics and the way he snorts if he laughs too hard. Barty feels unable to do anything other than look at Evan at all times.

He also learns Evan likes to kiss. He likes to kiss a lot, passionately, all tongue and bites and hands tugging eagerly at hair. Barty loves Evan's hands on his hair. Loves Evan's lips on his. Fuck, Barty feels like he could eat Evan whole with how much he loves him. Devour him until there's nothing left.

They haven't gone anywhere further than kissing though, and fuck if he isn't dying to get Evan naked on his bed. So he tries.

It is a good night, they had easy classes, a good studying session, and are currently making out in Barty's bed. Things get weird the moment he takes Evan's shirt after his own. He knows Evan, has learnt every single thing about him, and something is off. The eagerness on his kisses is different, less passionate even if as intense. He isn't actively seeking contact anymore, just taking it. His gasps sound false suddenly, so Barty reels back and looks at him.

Evan looks as perfect as always, like a fucking angel fallen from heaven right into his bed. His breathing hard and his bare chest sweaty.

"Why'd you stop?" he asks confused, and Barty only looks at him for a bit.

"Is everything okay? Do you want to keep going?" He asks back, because one can never be too sure, and he's not about to fuck up their first time. They're laying side by side looking at each other, still in a tangle of limbs. Evan's brows shoot up in disbelief.

"What do you think?" He asks with a smile, a hand tangling in Barty's hair. It doesn't look like his smiles. This is— no, something's definitely wrong. It feels like an ick he can't quite scratch.

"I don't know, that's why I asked" he stops Evan from pulling him closer. Keeps looking at him, trying to find what is going on. Then, Evan's jaw clicks, and Barty knows immediately. He knows because he's spent their last month, fuck, their last years, learning every single movement on Evan's body. He's not answering, so Barty talks again "you don't want it" he tries to reel back, and is fastly drawn back closer.

"No, I— I can do it, I can do this for you" Evan's behaviour changes so suddenly it feels like whiplash. He sounds almost desperate "I can be good for you come on, take me, take what you want" Evan's mouth is on his, then on his neck, and for a second he gets distracted again because fuck that feels good, but soon enough he pushes him back again.

"No, hey, Ev" Barty tries. Evan is a mess of mumbles.

"I'll be good, I can do it" he repeats grabbing at Barty through wet eyes. Oh. Oh hell no.

"Evan" he tries, and Evan only becomes more eager, climbing on top of him, unbuttoning his jeans "Evan stop" his hands come to grab his. Then Evan looks at him, really looks at him. "I don't want this if you don't"

"I thought I—"

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to" Barty assures, and finally the tears come. He lets go of Evan's hands and watches as he tries to hide his face away, still sitting on top of him.

It takes a while to calm down, and by the time it happens they're both sitting cross legged each on one end of the bed, facing the other.

"I don't... I don't like sex" Evan says when asked.

"Okay" Barty simply says "then we won't do that" Evan looks up, brows furrowed, pained look on his eyes.

"Barty, I won't like it, never have wanted it and I don't think I ever will"

"It's fine, then we'll never have sex" he shrugs. It's okay, he only wants Evan if he wants it too. "But, uhm, you've had other partners, right? Did you..?"

"Yeah, and I hated every part of it" Evan admits looking away. Barty feels the need to kill every single one of his ex's.

"You don't have to do that with me, I don't want you to do anything you don't want to" Evan looks even more confused than before "We don't have to kiss if you don't like it either"

"No, I— Uhm... I like that" his cheeks are turning red, his smile coming back, and this time Barty believes him. "I like it a lot, actually"

"Great because I like that too. A lot." Barty smiles back.

And maybe there is a lot to talk about, a lot of lines to mark down so they aren't crossed, but for now they lay in bed and kiss.

A lot.

[ruebossanova]

professor o'connell: the mini series - 2

college prof!billie x student!reader

word count: 2.0k

warnings: older!billie x younger!reader, slowslowslow burn, eventual smut, college life, hella tension, quiet/shy reader

summary: liora, a quiet student at westburn college, becomes increasingly drawn to her enigmatic professor, billie, after billie reads her writing aloud in class. subtle glances and intimate conversations blur boundaries, leaving liora shaken and longing. by night, she writes about the feelings she can’t name—haunted by billie’s presence, and unsure if what’s growing between them is safe, or inevitable.

masterlist

————————————————————————————

thursday came like fog. slow, quiet, cold at the edges.

liora stood outside the classroom door for a second longer than she needed to, pretending to check her phone, pretending her palms weren't a little sweaty. it was silly. it was just class. just a room. just a woman who had only said her name once.

still, her fingers tingled as she pushed the door open.

billie was already there.

this time, she sat on the edge of the desk, one foot resting on the seat of the chair in front of her, her elbow on her knee. she wore a dark crewneck and soft gray trousers cuffed at the ankle. her hair was loose today—longer than it looked when tied back, falling in lazy waves across her shoulders.

she looked up when liora walked in. didn't smile, didn't speak—just watched her.

liora swallowed and took her seat in the same row as before. second from the front. close, but not too close. not enough to be obvious.

a few more students trickled in. someone bumped into liora's desk and muttered sorry. she didn't answer. her attention stayed locked on the front, even though billie wasn't doing anything except... existing. which somehow still managed to occupy all the space in the room.

"okay," billie said finally, pushing off the desk and stretching her arms slightly. her voice cracked the silence like warm water on cold glass. "anyone want to volunteer what they wrote?"

silence.

a few people shifted in their seats, avoiding her gaze. someone in the back coughed. billie gave it a beat, then raised an eyebrow.

"cowards."

soft laughter. liora smiled without meaning to.

billie glanced at her notebook, flipped it open, and scanned something with a faint nod.

"fine," she said. "i'll read one."

the class perked up slightly. she looked around the room, pausing for a beat before she said it:

"liora rai."

liora blinked. she felt her stomach drop in the way it does when the rollercoaster starts moving and it's too late to get off.

"you mind if i read yours?" billie asked. "you didn't mark it private."

liora didn't remember marking anything. didn't even remember breathing properly when she turned it in.

but now billie was waiting. so was the whole room.

"sure," she said quietly.

billie nodded once, then began to read. her voice low, unhurried, like she was reading a letter.

"some songs don't need lyrics. they're already saying too much. maybe that's why i like the sound of strings. they don't try to explain anything. they just feel. and sometimes, that's all you can do. feel. even when you're not ready to."

liora couldn't look up. she stared at the edge of her desk, tracing the grain of the fake wood with her fingertip. the room was too quiet. no one laughed. no one whispered. just silence.

billie cleared her throat.

"i liked this one," she said, voice softer now. "not because it was polished. it's not. but because it's honest. and you'd be surprised how rare that is."

liora finally looked up.

billie was looking directly at her.

and something in her expression—something small, something unreadable—shifted.

"thanks for letting me share it," she said.

liora nodded, barely. "yeah. sure."

but inside, her pulse was a wildfire. and she wasn't sure if she was relieved or terrified that billie had seen so much.

class let out five minutes early.

people took their time gathering their things, maybe because they were shaken by how personal everything felt. maybe because billie had read aloud from someone's soul like it was nothing. liora moved slowly, unsure if she felt exposed or seen—or if there was a difference.

her notebook was still open on her desk, the edges slightly curled from her grip. she reached for it, but stopped when she heard footsteps.

"liora."

she turned.

billie stood next to the front row, arms crossed loosely, voice quiet.

"can i talk to you for a sec?"

not a question, not really. but soft enough that it felt like one.

liora nodded. followed her instinctively toward the side of the room near the windows, out of earshot from the few students still packing up.

billie didn't speak right away. she leaned against the sill, looking out for a moment like she might say something else entirely. then her eyes flicked back to liora.

"i didn't mean to catch you off guard with that," she said. "i should've asked you first. properly."

liora shook her head quickly. "it's okay. i just wasn't expecting it."

"no one ever is," billie said, almost to herself. "but you handled it. people don't always."

liora looked down. "i just wrote what came out. i wasn't trying to be good."

"that's exactly why it worked."

a pause. long enough for liora to feel the silence stretch between them like thread. thin, taut.

billie shifted slightly. she wasn't looking at her like a professor would. not like someone older trying to teach or correct. it was something gentler. more curious. like she was trying to read her again, the way she had read her words.

"do you play?" billie asked suddenly.

liora blinked. "music?"

"yeah."

"a little. mostly violin. not well."

billie smiled, barely. "i doubt that."

liora felt something in her throat tighten. she looked at her feet, then back up. "why?"

billie met her gaze. "you write like someone who hears things deeply."

liora didn't know what to say to that. didn't know how to respond when someone saw through her so fast. she just nodded, heart stuttering.

someone called out a goodbye across the room. billie waved a hand in return, but her eyes stayed on liora.

"you ever want to talk music outside class," she said, softer now, "i'm usually here early. before nine. or in the practice rooms after hours."

liora's breath caught.

"okay," she said.

billie's mouth curved into something close to a smile—but only for a second. then she turned, walked back toward her desk, and picked up her bag like the moment hadn't just changed something.

liora stood there a second longer than she should have.

then left, carrying a silence that felt heavier than words. liora didn't go back to her dorm right away.

instead, she wandered. across campus, past the edge of the quad where someone was setting up folding chairs for a student film screening, past the old music building with its ivy-covered windows and faded paint. her boots scuffed softly over the stone path, every step somehow echoing.

everything billie said replayed in her head, not in order, not even clearly—just little shards of sound:

you write like someone who hears things deeply. if you ever want to talk music. before nine. after hours.

she didn't know why it stuck the way it did.

maybe it was nothing. maybe billie said that kind of thing to everyone. maybe it was just encouragement. professional. polite.

but it didn't feel like that.

it felt personal. not inappropriate. not obvious. but intimate, in a way liora couldn't explain without sounding ridiculous.

she ended up sitting in the music building stairwell, notebook in her lap, pen hovering.

the building was quiet. not silent—there was a soft hum of a cello from somewhere upstairs, distant and slow. but the air itself felt still. like the walls were waiting.

she opened to a blank page. started writing.

sometimes the words are fine. sometimes they say exactly what you mean. and still, it's not enough. not because they're wrong. but because they're too quiet. or maybe i am.

she paused, tapped the pen against her chin. then, lower down the page, she added:

i think she hears the quiet parts, too. i don't think that's fair.

her pen stopped moving. she closed the notebook. her fingers pressed into the worn cover.

on a whim she hadn't planned, she stood and walked quietly down the hall.

just to see.

the door to the faculty practice rooms was closed, locked as usual after hours—but the light under the door flickered faintly. someone was in there.

she didn't knock.

she stood there for a moment, just listening. waiting. hoping—for what, she wasn't sure.

then turned and left, the sound of a piano key lingering like a held breath behind her. friday morning came slow.

gray light filtered through liora's window as her alarm buzzed quietly at 7:43. she stared at the ceiling for a while, then sat up, heart already pulling toward something unnamed.

her roommate mumbled something in her sleep, still cocooned in blankets. liora didn't bother saying goodbye. she dressed in silence—black leggings, oversized hoodie, hair pulled into a soft, low braid that hung between her shoulder blades.

she didn't know why she was going in early.

she told herself it was to use the printer. or to revise her notes. or maybe to drop off something at the front office, even though she knew she wouldn't.

she just wanted to see her. maybe not even talk. just... see.

the classroom door creaked when she opened it, just before 8:50. she expected the room to be empty.

it wasn't.

billie was there. alone. sitting cross-legged on the floor by the whiteboard, back against the wall, earbuds in. her laptop rested beside her and a coffee cup balanced on a thick novel she clearly hadn't touched yet. her head was bowed, long hair falling around her face in a curtain, fingers scribbling in a composition notebook.

liora froze in the doorway.

billie looked up.

there was a second of recognition. then—

a soft, lopsided smile.

she pulled one earbud out. "morning."

liora swallowed. "hi. sorry. i didn't mean to interrupt."

"you're not," billie said. she set her pen down, eyes soft but unreadable. "just journaling. i do it before class, otherwise my brain doesn't shut up."

liora nodded. "same."

billie quirked a brow. "what time does yours usually stop talking?"

liora gave a quiet laugh. "hasn't yet."

"mm. dangerous."

liora's heart stuttered at that. not the word. the way she said it—low and casual, but weighted, like it meant something more.

she walked to her usual desk and dropped her bag slowly. billie watched her the whole time. not staring. just... noticing.

"you're early," billie said.

liora shrugged, fingers fidgeting with her sleeve. "couldn't sleep."

billie leaned her head back against the wall, looking at her upside-down. "you write anything last night?"

liora hesitated. "some."

"was it honest?"

liora nodded. "too honest."

a beat of silence passed. billie tapped her pen against her knee.

"that's the best kind," she said again, softer this time.

liora's fingers tightened around the edge of her desk.

billie sat up straighter, stretched her legs out, and glanced toward the clock. "we've got ten minutes."

liora blinked. "until what?"

billie met her eyes, and something in her expression was quieter now. more careful.

"until the room stops being just ours."

liora couldn't answer. not really. not with words.

so she just sat there. breathing, listening to the clock tick, watching billie lower her gaze back to her journal like nothing about that moment was dangerous.

but it was. and she knew they both felt it. the rest of the day passed in pieces.

liora moved through it, but not in it. she answered questions when people spoke to her. nodded at professors. ate half a sandwich she barely remembered ordering. but everything felt a little off, like her body was two steps behind her thoughts.

her mind kept circling back to that morning. to billie. to the way she'd said: until the room stops being just ours.

she had meant it as a joke, maybe. or maybe not. maybe that was the whole problem — it was impossible to tell where the edges were with her. nothing about billie felt standard. nothing about her felt safe.

and liora wasn't sure if that scared her, or made her want more.

she spent that night curled up at her desk, the soft hum of music playing from her speaker — something instrumental, no lyrics. she couldn't handle words right now. hers were already too loud.

her notebook lay open beside her laptop. blank page. staring back.

she didn't know what she was trying to write. she just knew it was there, somewhere under her skin, and it needed out.

after a while, she started, slow:

i'm not trying to want this. i'm not even sure what this is. but i know how it feels. like walking toward thunder. like the space between two notes where silence is too loud.

she said it like it was nothing. but i think she felt it too.

her hand stilled.

she didn't finish the page. didn't close the notebook, either.

instead, she leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling, the soft glow of her desk lamp casting blurred shadows on the wall. outside, it was raining — the kind of quiet, steady rain that made everything feel further away.

except her.

billie.

she was still too close. in her thoughts. under her skin. and now, there was no unfeeling that.

[noxitsnox]

first date headcanons- niki x reader

popular classmate!niki x fem!reader

summary: your classmate niki, who you've been crushing on since the first day you saw him, asks you on a date

tags: non idol au, fluff, both reader and niki are awkward

a/n: hc is my fav format idc idc. well this won the poll by a LOT so here we are, i'll post matthew in the weekend then <3

niki was the popular mysterious cool guy everyone had a crush on. you didn't think you had any chance to get with him, to you he was unreachable

what you didn't know was that niki had a crush on you too, and despite his reputation he was very shy and awkward so he'd just avoid you

until he saw you getting closer and closer to another guy in your class

he was jealous of course and finally he felt threatened enough to ask you out

he walked to your desk as soon as the lunch bell rang and asked you if you were free to talk in a more private place

you agreed instantly, a bit anxious in your stomach but also curious to know what he wanted

the empty classroom was filled by a heavy silence. niki was half-sat on a desk in front of you, his wouldn't dare to look up from the ground. "i... i was wondering if you were free this afternoon". you didn't say anything, you weren't sure you heard correctly. "i mean you're nice and pretty so we could go out if you want to."

and you wanted to

after school you rushed home to get ready, you didn't tell anyone in case this was all fake

niki met you at a park nearby, he got you some flowers. he didn't know your favorites so he chose the ones that matched your vibe the best

despite the first date typical tension everything went on smoothly

after a walk in the park you guys went in a supermarket to buy some food for the stray cats, something he'd do often evenn when he was alone

your crush on him only grew, you found out that under that tough look there was a golden heart

neither of you talked much, but the silence was comfortable and welcoming, sometimes one of you would point out a funny shaped cloud or an animal or other things you met during the walk and often it would lead to sharing anecdotes about each others

after he walked you home he didn't kiss you, he hugged you and told you he enjoyed the afternoon with you

and it was enough to make you both a blushing mess

you thanked him and told him you liked it too before, spurred on by who knows what wave of courage, you kissed his cheek and went back home

[minaminokyoko]

Oh, thank FUCKING God, someone put the entire list in one post.

So, mates, when you've heard me say "Fuck Ross Geller" over the years, here's the actual factual breakdown of why you hear me say that every single time it comes across my Dash. He's a toxic sack of crap wrapped inside a safe "comedy" cocoon. We need to call out his shitty ass fucking behavior every time. Do not give him a pass just because he's on an excellent, funny (though obviously problematic) show because the intent is comedy. Ross was fucking toxic as hell and even though I personally don't like Rachel, I hated the ending for her. No. You can do better than Ross. Ross never wanted her to succeed and only wanted her to live under his thumb, so it's totally fine if you are still a fan, but don't deny his toxic fucking behavior. Just don't. The show being funny does not erase all of those emotional abuse tactics.

Oh, and I wanna add on a couple more than have always bothered the living shit out of me.

Joey started dating a gorgeous smart black woman who happens to be in a similar field or same field to Ross. Ross proceeds to start slowly seducing her away and lying to Joey about it the entire time, eventually being so bold as to condescendingly insist that Joey is "too stupid" to date a smart woman like her. Class. Fucking. Act.

And the last example I wanted to add to the list is the one that stuck in my craw the most other than him abusing Rachel for years: when Joey was fired from his soap opera and out of work, Chandler couldn't get him to accept money due to his pride, so Chandler then pretends to teach Joey how to play poker and just lies and says Joey is just really good at it, so he "wins" the money AND it doesn't hurt his feelings. Joey accidentally gets overconfident from "beating" Chandler all the time, so he plays Ross. Ross doesn't know Chandler's plan and takes all the money Chandler technically gave to Joey. Chandler then goes to Ross and explains, asking him to lose a game so that Joey can have the money to, you know, pay his fucking bills and be able to fucking eat.

Ross proceeds to refuse to give the money back to neither Chandler nor Joey.

Ross. Is. Fucking. Toxic.

End of story. I'll leave this here for those of you who've always wondered why I ALWAYS reblog hatred for him. Ain't got nothing to do with him being so called "geeky" or not being conventionally attractive. His soul is ugly, and that's that.

“but ross is so funny !! hes my favourite i cant believe you hate him !!”

ross is a main character in a comedy tv show. he has to be funny. and quite frankly, making a couple of jokes every now and then means nothing when you remember

he’s homophobic

sexist

possessive of rachel

didn’t want rachel to have a life that didnt involve him

made fun of phoebes beliefs constantly 

tried to sleep with his cousin 

fatshamed monica

made monica eat fear foods and then shamed her for wanting to eat more 

didnt want his son to play with a barbie

said another womans name at the altar 

cheated on rachel

victim complex

slept with a student 

spread rumours about rachel in high school 

using his girlfriend’s biggest insecurities as reasons not to date them

was uncomfortable when rachel dated elizabeth’s dad, but said it was fine when he dated her sister because “it wasn’t weird for him” 

was completely willing to let his parents hate chandler (his sister’s boyfriend) because it meant he’d get in trouble for something he did years ago 

THE MALE NANNY

attacked rachel and phoebe to prove a point about ‘unagi’ (okay but you can tell that scene was written by a man?? if youre a woman, thats a terrifying thing to have happen to you) 

lied about the annulment 

kept a sex tape without consent (yes i know he filmed it by accident and never watched it, but he should have destroyed it as soon as he found it) 

so annoying about rachel and joey’s relationship - he made it all about himself !! it was nothing to do with him !! 

cheated on julie 

faked his death

refused to admit he did anything wrong when it came to the ‘break’ with rachel 

didnt wanna date a girl anymore when she went bald 

i feel like theres more but thats all i can think of right now. so yeah, on this page we hate ross geller <3 if you like him, stay away from me, if you kin him… yeah just never talk to me please 

[hikariyaps]

coffee dates

word count ☆ 1.3k pairing ☆ megumi x fem!reader [college au] content ☆ pure fluff a/n ☆ i'm baaaaaaaackk

megumi fushiguro needed coffee right now. it was a cold, foggy morning in the middle of november. it was six and he was awake, thanks to his stupid alarm that he forgot to disable the night before. since he was already awake, he figured why go back to sleep? after all, a little extra studying wouldn't hurt.

currently, he's fighting to keep his eyes open, all bundled up in a warm sweater and scarf, walking to the on campus café. apparently, yuji managed to blow up the coffee machine in the boy's dorm common rooms. only god knows how it is always that imbecile that manages to do things like this.

so here he was trekking throught the biting wind, bag on his shoulder, hands in his pockets because his best friend blew up his source of sustenance.

the café is warm and smells strongly of coffee and butter, it's comforting. he sighs stepping inside. he just hopes that the barista knows how to make coffee properly. ever since the machine blew up, he's been here a few times in the morning. every single time the barista has been sleep deprived. and every single time the barista has messed up his coffee.

he takes his usual place near the window and sets all his study material up. the place is quiet, save for the mellow music playing softly from the speakers. he walks over to the counter, expecting to see the usual barista's face.

but there you were. all soft and glowy and awake. he needs a moment to process this. 'hi, what can i get for you today?' you ask, voice like honey, a polite but genuine smile on you face, booting up the computer to punch in his order. it takes a few seconds for his brain cells to recover before he answers.

'i'll have a large black coffee and a croissant, please.' 'okay, that'll be 700 yen.' you say, typing the order into the ancient looking computer.

megumi pays and takes a seat, he was supposed to be studying but his eyes were on you. you looked like an angel, or maybe that was just his foggy brain. but something about you didn't let him take his eyes off of you. he watches as you make his coffee and warm up his croissant. and instead of calling him to the counter, you bring his order over to where he was sitting.

he mumbles out an awkward thanks and his eyes flit back to his laptop screen. as soon as you were gone though, he immeadiately went back to observing you. the coffee was immaculate, just the way he liked it. most people assume its very easy to make a black coffee, but he was very specific and this might be one of the best coffees he's ever had.

pretty soon, he became a regular at the cafe, started dropping in more than once a day, hoping to catch you, so he could have the coffee you make again, of course. funny thing is, you were always there. he doesn't know your name, you don't wear a nametag. but he told you his and he loves the way it sounds when you say it. you talk to him more than the other customers since he's been coming here a month.

most people don't usually come here so often, so you were pretty excited about him. he was very polite, really pretty and honestly, very cute. he might seem quiet, but he had the prettiest smile on his face whenever you talked to him.

yuji and nobara know about you. they found out through stalking him when he started leaving immeadiately after class to visit the café before closing time. it was pretty obvious that he found you pretty, his gaze said it all. he did not hear the end of it once he came back to the dorms.

they became regulars at the café too. mostly for the purpose of gathering information for megumi. his love life was more than just dry, it was like the afternoon in the sahara. they were more than happy to stalk- get to know a girl he finally liked.

it wasn't through them he heard your name though. it was a sunday, early january. the café was not really empty, but not really full either. he hears someone call out a name, and then you respond and disappear into the back. he repeats your name multiple times softly under his breath, committing it to memory. not like he could ever forget it.

it isn't until february, that something happens between you both. you were sick of just looking at him work and making small talk. for once, you actually wanted more.

so when megumi's waiting for his coffee to go, you decide to woman up and ask him.

'so, do you have a valentine?' you ask, tone totally conversational, nonchalant if you would, while making his coffee. which was a stark comparision to how fast your heart was beating.

he hums. 'nah, i have my eye on someone but they haven't asked' he replies, thankful that your back was turned.

'who?' you ask, and he swears he can hear disappointment in your voice.

'you.' he says, the word slipping out before he could decide whether it should be said or not.

you on the other hand have just gone though the five stages of grief and then were quite pleasently surprised, celebrating inside your head while crying invisible tears.

you hide it quite well as you hand him his coffee and say 'my number's on the recepit. text me later?'

and he nods, small smile splaying on his lips. he texts you as soon as he steps out the café and you reply immeadiately.

you guys text each other very frequently and he's way easier to tak to on text. you get to know a lot more about him and you know this isn't just some silly little crush. you wanted him to be yours. and megumi feels the same way.

he takes you out on valentine's. it isn't anything too fancy but you know its genuine. its a small picnic, with your favourite foods. you're surprised that he remembers.

he remembers a lot of things, especially when it comes to you. he remembers your prefrences, your favourite brands, your schedule. he starts showing up to pick you after classes to drop you off to the café. at this point, both of you knew you had pretty strong feelings for each other, but there was no label for you guys.

not until you came over to his dorm for the first time. it'd been a year since you guys first met. you bring over hot chocolate and pastries that you made. there, lying on his bed, comfortably warm and feeling particularly fuzzy, he says it.

'i love you,' he whispers, soft and careful. he was acting as though it was a fragile, tangible thing that would shatter if not treated right. he was hoping you wouldn't break it, those three words symbolized his heart.

you didn't break it, instead you leaned over and presses your lips to his in a chaste kiss.

'i love you too,' you whisper back, forehead resting against his forehead.

you lay in the silence holding each other for a minute. until yuji and nobara start howling from the other room. 'I THINK FUSHIGURO FINALLY SCORED A GIRLFRIEND!' 'YEAH NO SHIT SHERLOCK, THEY SAID THE L WORD!' you wondered if his room was bugged.

and here you both were now six years later, on a coffee date, to the same café, reminiscing and reminding each other how much you loved each other, when he pulls out a ring and asks you to be his forever.

you say yes, of course.

and that's how megumi fushiguro got the love of his life, also known as his personal coffee maker.

©hikariyaps2025

[writinginatree]

Ice Cream for Breakfast

Relationship(s): Imogen Cardulo/Riorson!reader, Bodhi Durran & Xaden Riorson & Riorson!reader, Xaden Riorson/Violet Sorrengail

Summary: Being back home in Aretia means no one can stop you from having ice cream for breakfast — though your girlfriend might judge you a little.

For my Imogen anon 🩷 (This isn't the longer idea I mentioned, just a silly little thing that's been sitting on my idea list since last summer. I'll still write that one too eventually, but for now have this!)

Trudging into the small private kitchen in the family wing of Riorson House, your brother raises his scarred brow at you. "Are you seriously having ice cream for breakfast?"

"Mornin', Xay," you mumble around a mouthful of the aforementioned treat. "Do you wan' some too?"

Silence stretches as he debates it for a second, two; then, "Yes."

A grin spreads on your face. You love being a bad influence. Xaden can call you a feral little gremlin for it all he wants, you both know that sometimes, he needs his favorite little sibling's encouragement to put his responsibility aside and just live a little.

You jump up from your seat at the table to grab a glass bowl for Xaden, heaping ice cream into it as he makes for the pot of coffee on the stove. Though you're not a fan of the bitter stuff yourself, it had been your duty as the first person to enter the kitchen this morning to prepare it.

Xaden pours himself a cup and slides into his usual seat next to yours. You top his bowl of chocolate ice cream with a handful of cherries, just like you had your own, and grab him a spoon.

"Thanks, bubs," he says as you set both in front of him and sit down.

Xaden has taken no more than a couple of bites when footsteps sound in the hall again and Bodhi appears in the doorway, fully dressed in his uniform but still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He blinks at the both of you, the corners of his mouth lifting into a grin. "Are you two seriously having ice cream for breakfast?"

Xaden points his spoon at him, and orders, "Have some too or shut up."

Your cousin shrugs and makes a beeline for the icebox; a minute later, he sits opposite you and Xaden with his own dish of ice cream.

Soon, the comfortable silence is interrupted once again as Imogen and Violet return from their morning run. They take one glance at what is sitting on the table for breakfast, and share a look that seems to say Can you believe these heathens?

Violet walks up behind your brother, dropping a kiss to the top of his head, and says, "Please tell me you had some real food already."

"Afraid I can't do that, love," he mumbles with a sheepish little smile few people ever get to see. "Unless you'd like me to lie."

Violet smiles back and shakes her head. "You're weird."

"Clearly, this whole family is weird," Imogen adds as she comes to your side, throwing a pointed glance at the three bowls of half-eaten ice cream on the table.

Violet nods, but despite her talk, she doesn't hesitate to accept the spoonful of ice cream Xaden offers her.

"How was your run?" you ask, cocking your head to glance up at your girlfriend.

"Good. You should join us some time."

"Thanks, but I'll pass," you answer. "If I have to get up any earlier than I already do, I'd have to go the bed straight after dinner to get enough sleep."

"Alright, sleepy beauty," Imogen laughs.

You dip your spoon into the pool of melting ice cream slowly forming before you. "Would you like some?"

"No offense, babe, but I'd really prefer to eat a proper meal." The look on her face borders between amusement and exasperation. "So should you, by the way. You have flight maneuvers and two hours of gym today. If all you have in your stomach for that is ice cream, you're going to be miserable the whole time."

You take another spoonful, waving her concerns aside. "If I get hungry, I can just have a banana or something between classes."

"You're incorrigible," Imogen sighs. "And you have ice cream on your lip."

You stick out your tongue to lick first your upper, then your lower lip, but your girlfriend shakes her head.

"Come here."

She places a hand under your chin and pushes slightly, tipping back your head. Then she leans over you and slots her lips against your own. Her tongue swipes over the corner of your mouth.

Pulling back, she rubs her thumb over the same spot, ensuring any traces of ice cream are gone. "Are those cherries I taste?"

"Yep. I put a whole handful in my ice."

"Well, at least you're getting your vitamins."

"You know what, if you give me another kiss, I'll even come down to the mess hall with you and have some proper breakfast, as you call it."

Not that you wouldn't do that anyway — sit with her, at least, and probably snatch a few bites off her plate. She knows it, too; after all, that's why she always takes an extra sausage or egg to share with you, regardless of what your own breakfast consists of that day.

Imogen clicks her tongue. "So you want me to resort to bribery now?"

"You're the one who wants me to eat a balanced diet."

"You should."

"I know." You grin. "So, are you going to make me?"

"Oh, yes. I most definitely will."

Her lips meet yours again, and you think to yourself that for this, you could be convinced to do just about anything, including getting proper nutrition.

From the corner of your eye, you note Xaden pulling Violet onto his lap, deepening the kiss they seem to have been locked in for a while. You quickly shut your eyes against the sight and focus on the feeling of your own girlfriend's lips against yours.

As one kiss turns to many, Bodhi looks left, to you and Imogen making out, then right, to Xaden and Violet doing the same, and gives a long-suffering sigh. "Really, guys? Right in front of my ice cream?"

"Sorry," you break apart just long enough to say. "Just, uh, look away for a moment?"

Then you're distracted by Imogen's lips once more. The next time you glance over, you realize Bodhi used the moment of you looking away to snatch the remains of your forgotten ice cream for himself.

He puts the empty bowls in the sink, smirking when he notices the offended look you give him.

You blow a raspberry at him in response; Bodhi returns the gesture.

Rolling your eyes, you ask, "You sure you don't want us to find you a girlfriend? Or boyfriend?" You wave your hand around. "A whatever-friend to distract you from stealing my ice cream?"

Bodhi snorts, shaking his head. "No, thanks. I like stealing your ice cream. Besides, I don't think I'm interested in that sort of thing."

"Alright then," you shrug, and turn back to Imogen. "But don't think that means I'll let you get away with eating my breakfast."

Ignoring the threat, Bodhi grabs himself some fruit from the counter and heads for the door with a glance at the clock. "If you three don't want to be late for class, you might want to save the rest of your make out sessions for later."

Violet curses, and gives Xaden one more peck on the lips before rushing to get a quick breakfast of her own, and Imogen groans in annoyance, following with you in tow.

[yourch1ld]

Stupid Dare (Part 1)

additional tags: sfw, phiilip graves × male!reader, college!au, call of duty

A/N: so, hello, I'm new here and here's my stupid fanfic (?), this is mid, but I swear I'll try make next chapter better and cooler, thank you in advance for your time! <3 (and yes, English is not my first language, so sorry if there're mistakes).

Part 2

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Finally, the moment came when you moved away from your toxic parents to another place — a college you barely scored enough points to get into with a scholarship. You thought things couldn’t get worse, that a new life was ahead and everything would be great.

WRONG.

It was the end of August, and you arrived at your college dorm in Texas. There are no words to describe how nervous you were, but a kind lady helped you find your room and not get lost in the chaos of students just like you.

Your former friend always said that no matter what, you’d be able to make new acquaintances and friends. But that also didn’t go the way you hoped. You became a loner, and the only looks you got were judgmental — or curious… curious about how weird you were.

The only thing you were lucky with was work. Sure, working at the local McDonald's wasn’t fancy, but you got paid well enough to not starve.

Things couldn’t possibly get worse… right?

They could.

There was someone called Phillip Graves. He was on the football team — not the most popular one there, but still got attention from girls. Though nothing more than flirting ever happened between him and them.

It was Friday evening of the first week of classes, and all the football guys were hanging out in one of the rooms, playing “Truth or Dare.”

As usual, they spun the bottle, and at some point, it pointed to Graves. A mischievous grin appeared on his face and he simply said, “Dare.”

"Then we dare you to start a relationship with that weirdo..."— one of the guys said.

"Yeah, remember that LGBT pin on his bag? So pathetic..." — another one added.

"If you want, we could even pay you a little extra to fuck him and record it, ‘cause this is too funny to just do it for a game..."— the team captain said while looking at Phillip.

The grin stayed on the boy’s face.

It was pathetic that he agreed — but that was drunk Graves…

The next morning, Phillip began his little hunt.

He tracked you down and slithered like a desert snake toward a mouse — right when you were alone in the open area behind the school, sitting in the grass.

"Hey, cutie, is it hot out here, or is it just ‘cause a thing like you’s around?"— a devilish smile crept across his face as he came closer, leaning over you.

You didn’t answer, just blushed and looked up. Clearly, no one had ever flirted with your virgin ass back in your hometown.

"Don’t be nervous, babe, it’s just me — Phillip. You can call me Phil if that helps you relax."— he suddenly sat down next to you and rested his head on your shoulder like he had known you forever.

It looked like a damn romcom (sorry), but you couldn’t do anything about it.

That kept happening for several days. He’d come sit by you, say a few words…

Honestly, it made Phillip feel relaxed, and your quietness seemed kind of cute.

One day, you finally started talking to Phillip, and oh God — you liked his temperament, his voice, the way he moved his hands…

It was probably the first time you fell for someone — not some game character, but a real guy.

But of course, in Graves’s head, there was already a plan.

One that was in motion.

And you — you were the target, the prize, the toy in his hands. Like 3-in-1 instant coffee.

[wolfchans]

BANG CHAN ♡ GIANT JACKET MAKING MOVIE

[rosylix]

i love that yall scream with me abt felix and stuff lolllll. i feel weird sometimes like i shouldnt post if im not writing cus yall are pretty much here for my writing.. so if im not writing like no one cares abt me lol but idk its still fun and it makes me so happy that yall still think of me even when ive not been active like thats so sweet?? jdnsjfjjs IDKK i cant articulate my thoughts correctly rn but i just wanted to say ily guys! 🤍🤍

[ruebossanova]

professor o'connell: the mini series - 3

college prof!billie x student!reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: older!billie x younger!reader, slowslowslow burn, eventual smut, college life, hella tension, quiet/shy reader

summary: the rain outside brought them close under a single umbrella again, a moment of unspoken tension broken only by billie's sudden distance. a brief, almost clinical text from billie followed, leaving liora to wonder what had shifted. their next music room session was more reserved, with billie revealing her teaching motivation. a brief, accidental touch of hands reignited the fragile connection, but billie quickly pulled away, emphasizing boundaries, leaving liora to navigate the lingering silence and the unspoken question of what had changed.

masterlist

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

monday felt sharper than usual.

the sky outside was pale and flat, clouds stretched thin like paper, and the classroom lights buzzed faintly above the hum of conversation. liora sat in her usual seat, back straight, notebook open, pen idle between her fingers.

she hadn't spoken to billie since the rain. since the umbrella. since the soft brush of fingers against her temple like it was nothing. except it wasn't.

billie walked in just as the clock hit the hour, dressed in black jeans and a rust-colored tee under an open flannel, sleeves rolled to her elbows. her hair was half up, strands tucked behind one ear, eyes shadowed in a way that didn't look tired, just distant.

liora watched her from under her lashes.

billie didn't look back.

"okay," she said, setting her laptop down. "new assignment. this one's gonna be weird."

someone in the front groaned. billie smirked, just a little.

"you're working in pairs. or trios, if you're scared of intimacy."

that got a few laughs. liora's heart jumped.

"the goal's simple: take a piece of music — any genre, any decade, i don't care — and write something with it. inspired by it, woven through it, around it. a spoken word piece. lyrics. a duet. even just a mood board with voiceover. whatever feels honest."

liora scribbled down the instructions. her hand trembled slightly.

"you'll perform or present in three weeks," billie continued. "live, in class. i know, terrifying. you'll survive."

billie started reading out names from a list on her phone. liora's name didn't come until the very end.

"rai, you were paired with dua jenkins, but she dropped the course this morning," billie said, eyes skimming the list. "so you'll either get reassigned or—"

she paused. looked up.

and something shifted.

"—i'll help you brainstorm until you do."

liora blinked.

billie moved on to the next names without further comment, but the words sat heavy in the air.

until you do.

like a promise. or a threat. or something worse — hope.

by the time class ended, liora hadn't heard anything else. not really. just her own pulse and the faint memory of rain in her ears.

as everyone filed out, she lingered again, just a little. but billie didn't ask her to stay.

she just looked up once, right before liora walked out, and said softly, "wednesday. after class. music room four."

liora nodded.

and left.

her whole body humming.

the hallway was dim when liora arrived.

music building four was older than the rest — narrower halls, soundproofed doors, yellowing floors that creaked just enough to make everything feel more secret. the overhead lights flickered in the corners, and the carpet smelled like varnish and dust.

liora stood outside the door for a second before knocking.

a soft voice from inside: "yeah."

she pushed it open.

the room was small, lit only by a single floor lamp in the corner, its light warm and low. thick rugs covered most of the space, muffling footsteps. a beat-up upright piano sat against one wall, and billie sat on the floor next to it, cross-legged, a notebook in her lap and a half-empty iced coffee beside her.

she looked up, and for a second, she just stared.

not surprised. not cold.

just looked at her. like she was trying to place her in a song.

"hey," she said. quiet.

liora nodded and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. the click echoed too loudly. she sat down a few feet away, legs tucked underneath her.

"you're on time," billie said, almost teasing.

"i was early," liora said before she could stop herself. "i walked around the building first."

billie's mouth tugged slightly. not quite a smile. "why?"

liora picked at a thread on her sleeve. "nerves, i think."

billie's gaze dropped to her hands for a second. "don't be nervous. this is just… ideas. that's all."

"it doesn't feel like just anything."

another pause. longer this time. billie leaned back on her palms, eyes soft.

"you always talk like that?" she asked.

"like what?"

"like the words are heavier than you."

liora looked down. "sorry."

"don't be. it's rare."

the silence between them stretched.

billie reached behind her and pulled her notebook closer. flipped to a page.

"so," she said, changing gears. "any song stuck in your head lately?"

liora hesitated. then: "'mirrorball.' by taylor swift."

billie's eyebrows lifted slightly. "interesting."

"what?"

"nothing," she said. "just… that song's all vulnerability and no armor. wasn't expecting it from you."

liora tucked her hair behind her ear, self-conscious. "should i pick something else?"

"no," billie said gently. "i like it."

she stood, moved to the piano, and tapped out the opening chords—soft, simple, imperfect.

liora watched her hands move. long fingers, unpainted nails. quiet control.

"you play by ear?" liora asked.

"mostly."

"i could never do that."

billie glanced at her. "you could. you just haven't tried hard enough."

liora felt the words land somewhere deeper than they should've.

billie kept playing. same phrase, over and over. it filled the room with a low, longing echo.

then she stopped. turned on the bench. rested her elbow on the keys.

"what does that song mean to you?" she asked.

liora swallowed. "it sounds like being looked at. and still feeling invisible."

billie's eyes lingered.

"write that down," she said softly.

liora blinked. "what?"

"that sentence. 'looked at and still feeling invisible.' write it down before you forget."

liora reached into her bag and pulled out her journal. flipped to a blank page.

her hand trembled slightly as she wrote.

billie watched her.

"good," she said. quiet again. "it's honest."

liora didn't look up. she couldn't.

because the space between them was too full. of music. of words. of everything they weren't saying.

they stayed another forty minutes.

talking about songs, writing down fragments, humming melodies under their breath. at one point, billie leaned so close that liora could smell the faint warmth of coffee on her breath. at another, liora forgot what she was saying because she was watching billie's hands — long fingers tapping rhythm against her notebook, absentminded, like music just lived under her skin.

by the time they stood to leave, the room felt smaller. quieter. like something had shifted, but neither of them wanted to look at it too closely.

liora followed her out into the hallway. it was darker now. cooler. the windows near the stairwell rattled softly, and outside—

rain.

not a drizzle. not a storm. that steady, soaking kind of rain that turned the pavement to mirrors and made everything smell like wet leaves and metal.

billie stopped at the door. sighed.

"of course."

she reached into her bag, pulled out a small black umbrella — barely big enough for one.

"guess we're getting cozy," she said, not quite teasing.

liora's pulse skipped.

"you don't have to—" she started, but billie was already unfolding the umbrella and opening the door with her other hand.

"come on, rai."

and something about the way she said her name — rai, not liora — low and familiar, like a nickname she'd always had but never heard aloud, made liora move without thinking.

they stepped out together. close. too close. the umbrella barely covered them. their arms brushed. their hands almost touched. their footsteps were the only sound besides the hush of rain all around them.

billie didn't say anything at first. neither did liora.

the world around them blurred — buildings, trees, the dim glow of a streetlamp through fog. everything softened, except the air between them.

then billie said, "you're a little stormy, you know."

liora blinked. "what?"

billie looked straight ahead. "you carry things. quietly. but loud."

liora didn't answer. she couldn't.

a few more steps. a few more seconds of shoulder to shoulder, breath to breath.

they reached the door to liora's dorm. the light above it buzzed faintly, flickering in and out like it didn't want to interrupt.

billie turned to her. close now, the umbrella still above them.

a drop of rain slid from her hairline down to her cheek. liora reached out — without thinking, barely breathing — and wiped it away with the side of her finger.

billie didn't move. just watched her.

"you're wet," she said, stupidly.

billie huffed a breath of a laugh. "so are you."

they stood there, suspended in a moment too fragile to name.

then billie stepped back. lowered the umbrella.

"get some sleep, rai."

she said it gently, but there was something tight in it. something held back.

then she turned. walked into the rain without looking back.

liora didn't move for a long time. not until the sky cracked with lightning in the distance. not until the space beside her went cold again.

the rain had stopped sometime after midnight, but liora hadn't noticed. she lay in bed with her eyes open, headphones in, the same song looping for hours — soft strings, minimal lyrics, too much space between the notes.

her roommate snored faintly from the other side of the room. outside, the world was still damp, sidewalks glossy under lamplight. everything smelled like wet concrete and the inside of a coat that had been worn too long.

she couldn't stop thinking about billie.

about the umbrella.

about the way her hand had lifted — instinctive, gentle — to wipe a drop of rain from billie's cheek.

about the way billie hadn't flinched. hadn't smiled. hadn't looked away.

and then she had.

walked off like it hadn't happened.

like it didn't mean anything.

liora turned onto her side, pulled the blanket over her head, and whispered the words she hadn't said out loud:

"you felt it too."

except maybe she hadn't. maybe liora had imagined the weight behind the glances, the softness in her voice, the quiet way she said rai like she was letting her guard down.

maybe liora had misread the moment.

by morning, her chest felt hollow.

she dressed without thinking — jeans, hoodie, no makeup. her braid was loose, uneven. she didn't care.

the classroom smelled like old coffee and dry marker. the lights buzzed again. students filtered in, sleepy and slow. liora sat down in her usual seat. second from the front. notebook closed. pen resting flat against the desk.

the door opened.

billie walked in.

no umbrella this time. no music in her ears. she looked the same, mostly — loose cardigan, vintage tee, high-waisted trousers, boots with worn laces — but her expression was unreadable. she didn't glance at liora. didn't pause. just moved to the desk and opened her laptop like it was any other day.

liora watched her.

billie didn't look up.

not once.

not even when she said, "okay, let's start."

something in liora's stomach tightened.

class moved on like nothing had happened.

billie taught the same way — hands steady, voice low and sure. she talked about dissonance in harmony, how contrast in tone could mirror contrast in narrative. she played a clip from a nina simone performance and wrote fracture = tension on the board in uneven print.

she didn't call on liora. didn't say her name. didn't even look in her direction.

liora stopped taking notes after the first ten minutes.

her pen hovered. her throat ached.

the room felt colder than usual.

when the clock hit the hour, billie closed her laptop with a soft click and said, "that's it for today."

students rustled to their feet. bags zipped. someone dropped a water bottle, and it clattered across the tile.

liora didn't move.

she waited. waited for billie to say something. to glance her way. to nod or lift a hand or—anything.

but billie just packed her things and walked out.

not fast. not cold.

just… deliberate.

and liora sat there, staring at the door like it had betrayed her.

something had shifted.

and it wasn't just the weather.

liora spent the afternoon in the library, though she didn't read a single page.

her notebook sat open beside a stack of untouched textbooks, half-filled with words she couldn't finish. fragments. lines that started strong and fizzled. metaphors that felt thin. everything sounded fake when she read it back.

her phone sat face-down next to her laptop, screen dark.

she tried not to touch it.

failed.

at 3:47, she flipped it over, opened messages, and stared at the empty thread longer than she meant to.

thank you for earlier

she typed it. deleted it. typed it again. added a period. removed it.

finally, she hit send.

and instantly regretted it.

it felt too small. too exposed. too late.

she tucked her phone under her leg like hiding it would undo the message.

forty-two minutes passed.

nothing.

by then she had changed study locations twice. her brain refused to stay still. she'd reread the same sentence in a textbook about five times before realizing she had no idea what it said.

finally, at 4:29, her phone buzzed.

billie: anytime

that was it.

no punctuation. no emoji. not even her name.

just: anytime.

liora stared at it like it might mean something else if she tilted the screen.

it didn't.

it felt polite. casual. nothing.

but it didn't read casual. not to her.

she reread it. once. twice. ten times.

maybe it was kindness. maybe it was distance. maybe billie had meant it as a brush-off — soft and neutral.

or maybe she didn't know what to say.

either way, it sank like a stone in liora's stomach.

her roommate came in around five, dropped her bag on the floor, and said, "you good?"

liora nodded. "just tired."

"you look like you're being haunted."

liora gave a weak smile. "maybe i am."

later that night, she pulled out her violin for the first time in weeks.

she didn't tune it. didn't set up the stand. just held it.

the strings were out of pitch. the bow felt wrong in her hand. but she didn't care.

she played mirrorball from memory — slow, quiet, full of hesitations.

not perfect. not even close.

but honest.

afterward, her fingers were sore.

her phone stayed silent.

and the only thing louder than the music was the question still echoing in her chest:

what had changed?

and why did it hurt so much?

the hallway outside music room four smelled like dust and leftover coffee. the overhead lights flickered in their usual way — too yellow, too dim — and the linoleum under liora's boots squeaked once when she shifted her weight.

she stood outside the door for almost a full minute before knocking.

a pause. then billie's voice, muffled but clear: "yeah."

liora opened the door slowly.

the room looked exactly the same as before — warm lamplight, worn rugs, upright piano tucked against the far wall. billie sat on the floor again, one knee pulled up, her arm draped over it, notebook balanced in her lap.

she looked up.

not surprised. not smiling. just… there.

present, but distant.

liora stepped inside. closed the door behind her.

"hi," she said softly.

"hey."

billie's voice was even. unreadable.

liora crossed the room, sank into the same spot as last time. a few feet apart. close, but not close enough.

silence stretched between them like thread. fine, taut, fragile.

billie didn't look at her notebook. just stared at the rug, tapping her pen against the corner.

"you bring anything?" she asked after a moment.

liora nodded, pulling a folded sheet of paper from her bag. "just a start."

billie reached for it.

their fingers didn't touch this time.

she read it silently. her eyes moved slowly, like she was hearing it more than reading. then she handed it back.

"i like the part about the sky cracking," she said. "it felt lived in."

"it was," liora said before thinking.

billie looked at her, just briefly. "when?"

"friday night."

another pause.

billie nodded once, like that explained everything.

then she stood, moved to the piano, and played the first few bars of mirrorball again — slower this time. hesitant. like memory.

"you've been quiet," liora said, not looking at her.

billie kept playing. her fingers didn't falter.

"you noticed."

"kind of hard not to."

another note rang out. then silence.

billie let her hand fall into her lap. "sorry."

liora looked up. "why?"

a beat passed. billie didn't answer right away.

then, quieter: "just been in my head."

liora hesitated. then: "about what?"

billie's jaw moved slightly. not a smile. not a frown.

"boundaries."

the word hung between them like smoke.

liora's heart kicked once, then stalled.

she nodded. slowly. "right."

billie looked at her. eyes soft. "not because of you."

liora didn't answer.

billie set her hands on the keys again. didn't play. just rested there.

"it's easy to forget i'm the adult in the room," she said quietly.

liora's throat tightened.

"i'm not trying to make it hard," she whispered.

"i know."

the air felt thinner. sharper. like they were walking a wire.

liora stared at the floor. "can i ask you something?"

billie didn't move. "yeah."

"what made you want to teach?"

billie's eyes lifted, surprised by the question.

she leaned back, folding her arms loosely. "honestly?"

"always."

a faint smile tugged at the corner of billie's mouth.

"because i hated school," she said. "and music was the only thing that made me feel like i wasn't wasting oxygen."

liora blinked. "so you came back to it?"

"came back. stayed close. took the long way around."

billie looked down at her lap.

"i thought if i taught it right, maybe someone else wouldn't feel as invisible as i did."

liora swallowed.

billie met her eyes.

and for a second, the room wasn't a room.

it was something else. something suspended. quiet. waiting.

then billie looked away.

"we should probably work," she said, voice lower now. "before the weird tension ruins the whole project."

liora almost laughed.

almost.

but instead, she nodded.

and they started again. they worked in near silence for fifteen minutes.

billie sketched lines in her notebook — phrases, shapes, chord progressions, arrows pointing from one emotion to another like a map that almost made sense. liora sat cross-legged, watching, sometimes adding a word, sometimes striking one out. the energy between them was fragile. effortful. like trying to fold paper that was already damp.

"this line," billie said finally, tapping the page, "feels too neat. you ever feel something that wasn't pretty?"

liora frowned. "all the time."

"then write like that."

"i thought that's what i was doing."

billie looked up. her eyes were sharper now.

"no," she said. "you're writing like you want it to make sense."

"and that's bad?"

"it's not real."

liora's mouth tightened. "it's my real."

silence.

billie sat back, resting her weight on one hand. her expression didn't change, but something in her shoulders did — a pull, a shift.

"i'm not trying to rewrite your voice," she said, quieter now.

liora swallowed the defensive heat rising in her throat. "i know. i just—i don't always know what the realest version sounds like. sometimes i have to clean it up to even look at it."

billie blinked once.

and then the tension dropped.

not all of it. just enough.

"yeah," she said. softer. "i get that."

liora looked down at the notebook between them. her fingers were curled too tightly around her pen.

"sorry," she murmured.

billie shook her head. "don't be."

they sat there a moment longer. the lamp buzzed faintly in the corner. outside, the rain had started again — softer this time, more like a hush than a warning.

liora reached for her water bottle. missed. her hand brushed billie's instead.

they both froze.

not a dramatic freeze. just… still.

billie looked down at their hands. then up at liora.

"you okay?" she asked. not as a teacher. not even as a friend.

just as billie.

liora nodded.

but she didn't pull her hand away.

neither did billie.

the moment lasted three seconds. maybe four.

then billie exhaled — slow, steady — and stood.

"we should call it for today," she said, not quite meeting her eyes.

liora nodded again. stood too. packed her things without speaking.

at the door, billie paused. one hand on the knob. her back to liora.

"you didn't do anything wrong," she said.

liora stared at the back of her head. at the slope of her shoulder. at the way her hand tensed slightly against the metal.

"okay," she said.

billie opened the door.

the hallway was dim.

the silence followed liora all the way home.

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tags; @bxllxebxtch @st0nerlesb0 @dousleepanymore @mxmsuki

[liamket]

im not an angry person but right now i feel like i could bite someone

[melit0n]

.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

hello!! i just want to tell you that your art is so goddamn scrumptious, you are literally feeding my xmen brainrot and I find myself smiling when i see your art come across my feed. I love how you draw charles, pretty privilege and post (lets be fr he's serving every time)

i hope you always have fantastic brainrot and id kiss your blessed hands for giving us the gift of cherik and charles xavier, you are literally an icon

hope you have a great day ahead of you and more!! you deserve it !!

well i'ma absolutely have a wonderful mornin after readin this AWWWW thank you so so much !!!! i haven't been postin xmen long, so it's been really heartwarmin seein the warm reception to my work in the wonderful tags people have been leavin on my posts- and especially gettin to answer the lovely asks y'all've been sendin in (❁´ ▽ `❁) !! im glad people also like my goofy text posts and esp quotes from my brother he really has no right being so funny at the most random times

i hope to be xmen posting a while: ive got at least 60 years worth of stuff to look through and ongoing, so i dont imagine my interest'll wane anytime soon :]] !!

[the-red-hoodlum]

omw to school now chat!! 😸