#I was bored in class and thought about that

[luvergirl-535]

off-limits, on purpose

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 9.4k

c/w - privateschool!au, paige and nika are rivals, incredibly self-indulgent with little to no plot. read at your own will 😔.

a/n - reworked fic that i had written from a couple years ago, rediscovered, and decided to make pazzi lol. there will be a bonus part which is even more unserious than this one.

“I just don’t think they’re a very good fit. Not to be rude or anything—I mean, she’s probably super nice—but don’t you think he’s a little out of her league? I mean, a lot out of her league.” Nika smiles a little, amused at herself. “Like, miles out.”

“Stop, I’m so glad I’m not the only one.” Jana picks up her phone and starts searching for something. “Have you seen the picture she posted on her story yet? It’s so embarrassing.”

Nika snorts. “I don’t keep up with what she posts.” But she still looks eagerly when Jana hands her the phone, and her eyes widen when she looks at it. She clasps a hand over her mouth, looking almost nauseated, like she just watched one of those weird animal birth videos they were forced to watch in health class.

Azzi shovels another bite of pasta into her mouth, hoping they don’t rope her into whatever they’re talking about because she didn’t have time for breakfast this morning and she’s hungry, but unfortunately, Jana nudges her and shoves the phone in her face. “Look, Az. It’s bad, right?”

Azzi spares a glance at the photo. It’s a picture of this random girl that she kind of recognizes but doesn’t know the name of, and Jalen, a mutual friend of theirs, has his arm wrapped around her. She has to admit, it isn’t a very flattering picture on the girl’s part. It’s not bad, but not good, either. She looks a little jaundiced, maybe, but that’s just the lighting.

Needless to say, it’s not very interesting. At least not more interesting than her food. So she just says, “Why are we talking about this girl, again? Do any of us even know her name?”

“Well, no—she’s just dating Jalen. And she always stares at us in chemistry.” Nika gives a dainty little shrug. “But that’s the point. She’s…weird. She’s always writing in that little notebook and I’m pretty sure she grows weed in the school greenhouse.

Okay, Azzi has to agree. Whenever she sees this girl, she always has an aroma, and she usually has pit stains, which is, like, a surefire way to knock yourself down a couple of pegs on the social hierarchy.

“We might have to disown Jalen if he keeps dating her,” Jana says, her voice low and conspiratorial, like she thinks Jalen himself might sneak up on them at any moment. “She’ll definitely take him to the dark side.”

“Ew, gross. Let’s hope he has more common sense than that.”

Azzi pulls her phone out of her pocket, officially bored of the conversation. The gossip has been lame today, with Jalen’s new love interest being the only thing her best friends can seem to talk about. She sort of wishes for something terrible to happen to somebody, like a circulated sex tape or an unwanted pregnancy, but then she scolds herself for thinking that because it’s one of those thoughts that Jana would call ’fucked up’ and ‘crossing a line.’ Jana is the moral compass of the group.

Just as Azzi is about to suggest they go vape in the bathroom or something, a general hush falls over the cafeteria. She recognizes the sudden silence as the same silence that falls whenever she walks into a room. And besides Nika and Jana, there’s only one other person in the whole school who can elicit this kind of reaction.

Nika’s eyes widen at something behind Azzi and Jana, and the two share a look before turning to see what all the fuss is about—though there’s no reason to look. They already know.

It’s Paige Bueckers.

And she’s dressed in the exact same outfit as Nika.

At their private school, there is a standardized uniform that everybody has to wear, which are only slightly less horrid than the standard public school uniforms in their area. Even though they’re expensive and made of high-end fabrics, the student body hates wearing them. They’re stuffy, hard to get into, and the skirts that the girls have to wear squeeze your waist until you’re blue. So, in her freshman year, Azzi, as student body president—three years running, now—fought long and hard to give them all a day every two weeks where they can wear whatever the hell they want.

Some come wearing shorts and bikini tops, even in the winter.

Some come wearing the most outrageous, hideous costumes Azzi has ever seen in her life.

And Nika Muhl? She comes wearing all of her daddy’s money in the form of a stylish top and jeans tailored specifically to her. She makes absolutely sure that every outfit will be nothing any of her peers have seen or even dreamed of wearing before.

And here Paige is—Nika’s self-proclaimed rival and toughest competition—wearing the same exact outfit as Nika, all the way down to the baby pink lipgoss.

Azzi puts her head in her hands and groans. She does not have the energy to deal with the storm that will surely follow this. Not today.

“What. The. Fuck.” Jana’s mouth is slightly open, and she’s giving Paige her most practiced mean girl stare, but Paige couldn’t care less. She struts across the room like she owns the place and sends a chin nod Azzi’s way. The smile on her face is probably the most satisfied, egotistical expression Azzi has ever seen.

After Paige and her little posse have sat down at their respective table, and the noise levels in the caf have gone back to normal, Azzi spares a glance at Nika. On the outside, she looks calm and collected, perfectly unbothered. But Azzi can tell by the way she fidgets with her hair, by the way her cheeks are a touch pinker than her Dior blush usually makes them, that she’s absolutely seething on the inside.

“Oh, my god.” Jana looks at both of them, her mouth still open, and Azzi nudges it closed before she starts drooling or something. “Nika, I…”

Nika puts a hand up, effectively silencing their friend. “Don’t. Don’t even try to talk to me right now. I think I’m going to faint.” She says all of this with a small smile on her face, like she’s gossiping with them about something funny, but her tone is pure venom.

Though Azzi gets scared of Nika in these moments, she decides to speak up. “Maybe we should go to the bathroom and—“

“Don’t be dumb, Azzi.” This is a sentence that is repeated a lot whenever they all spend time together. “Do you know how bad it would look for me if we got up and left right after that?” she shakes her head decidedly. “No. We’re going to sit here and eat our food until five minutes before the bell rings, and then we’re going to go and grab drinks from the cafe before lunch is over. Just like we always do.”

Azzi wants to roll her eyes, because Nika’s really being just a little dramatic about all of this, but her phone dings and she looks at it before standing up. “Okay, well, I’m leaving. I have to piss. Nika—“ she reaches across the table to pet Nika’s hair—“we can work this out later, babe. It’ll be fine until then. You’re wearing the outfit better, anyway.”

“I know that,” Nika snaps, but she leans into Azzi’s hand and smiles just a little.

Azzi blows them a kiss as she walks backwards, her heels clicking on the floors. They both pretend to catch it like the giant dorks they are and then they go back to gossiping, this time more heatedly than before. No doubt they’re talking about how they’re going to get back at Paige for this little stunt.

As soon as they’re distracted, Azzi spins around and makes a beeline for room 203A. This room used to be a counseling office, like, years ago, but then the counselors all got their own classrooms and the school must have forgotten about this one, because it’s relatively small and tucked away in an easy-to-miss hallway. It’s also perpetually unlocked. A perfect hideaway.

Azzi closes the door behind her with a soft click, and she thinks that she’s alone until someone speaks up from a dim corner of the room.

“Hey.” It’s Paige, sitting on top of the counselor’s desk, leaning back against her hands. “That was fast.”

Azzi doesn’t comment on how Paige was the fast one—seriously, Azzi hadn’t even thought she’d left the cafeteria yet—because she’s too upset. She crosses her arms and glares at Paige. “That was a bitchy thing to do.”

Paige raises her eyebrows. “What was?”

Azzi does roll her eyes now, and she rolls them hard. “You know what. I’m going to have to deal with Nika for probably the rest of the week because of you.”

“I mean, you don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do. Because she’s my best friend, Paige.” Azzi leans back against the door, trying to act like she doesn’t want to walk over to that desk and stand in between Paige’s legs. “And it really wasn’t cool of you to mess with her. Not today, out of all days.”

For a moment, Paige’s eyebrows furrow like she’s confused. And then the realization dawns and the easy smile turns to a frown as she slides off her desk. At least she has the decency to look guilty. “Right. Your game. I—“

“Forgot?” Azzi scoffs. She feels sort of bad for making Paige guilty about this, because the whole wearing-the-same-outfit-as-Nika thing really isn’t that big of a deal. But the fact that Paige forgot about her soccer game? She’s been talking about this for weeks. “Yeah, I thought you might’ve. I mean, it’s not a surprise.”

Azzi isn’t oblivious to how Paige is slowly making her way towards her, but she ignores it. “You’ve barely been answering my texts the past couple of days. You haven’t so much as made eye contact with me in Spanish. This is the first time this week that we’re meeting in here, the first time this week that I’m actually talking to you in person.” Paige’s close now, within reaching distance, but she doesn’t touch, which is good because Azzi’s not finished yet. “And I was already kind of pissed at you, Paige, and then you forget about this game when you know it’s important to me. And now I’m really mad at you. Like, really, really mad.”

The corners of Paige’s lips quirk up for just a moment, which makes Azzi even more angry. “That mad, huh?” she almost seems amused, but then she’s frowning again. “Listen, Az, I’m—I didn’t know you were so upset. I didn’t mean to ghost you or anything, I swear. I thought you were fine with the distance, because you didn’t say anything.”

How could Azzi possibly have been fine with the distance? Sure, distance is okay—healthy—but without warning?

Azzi sighs, reminds herself that she’s getting all worked up over next to nothing, that this is just pent-up frustration from the past week. She runs a hand through her hair and looks down. “I guess I just got a little scared.”

“Of what?” Paige asks gently.

“I don’t know.” Paige reaches out and tugs on her wrist, and Azzi lets herself be pulled into her arms, because she’s been missing this closeness all week. She wraps her arms around Paige’s waist, rests her head on her shoulder, breathes her in. “That you found some cooler, smarter, taller girl than me and were planning to, like, dump me in front of the whole school.” She pauses. “Or something.”

Paige takes her upper arms and pushes her back a little so she can look at her face. Paige definitely looks amused now, and Azzi feels silly. “Taller? You think I’m going to leave you because you’re five ten?”

“Don’t laugh!” Azzi hits Paige’s midriff, embarrassed. “I’m serious. You just stopped talking to me out of nowhere and I got scared.”

“No, you’re right,” Paige says, and she seems to be serious now. “I shouldn’t have done that. And I also shouldn’t have forgotten about your game. I know how excited you’ve been for it, but I guess since we haven’t talked a lot this week, it just…slipped my mind.”

Azzi takes a step away. “Can you tell me why you stopped talking to me?”

Paige shrugs uncomfortably. She avoids Azzi’s eyes. “I guess…I don’t know. We’d just been spending sort of every waking minute together for the past couple of weeks, and I wanted…needed a little space.” She glances up nervously, and Azzi realizes with a sinking feeling that Paige thinks this will make her more mad.

“Paige, you know that’s okay, right?” she cups Paige’s face in her hands, making her look her in the eye. “It’s totally fine to need space. I get it. I was starting to feel a little suffocated too with how much time we were spending together,” Azzi admits. “All you needed to do was say that, and I would have given you space.”

Paige takes Azzi’s hands off of her face and wraps them around her shoulders just as the bell rings. Neither of them pay any mind to it. “I’m sorry I didn’t do that. And I’m sorry for making you so mad. And I’m really sorry for forgetting about your game.”

Azzi smiles softly, because she’s a sucker. “It’s okay. I should have communicated better. But, to be honest, I think I’m just sort of grumpy because I haven’t gotten to kiss you all week.”

“Oh, that makes sense. That’s an unfortunate situation.” Paige nods somberly. “I would be sad about not getting to kiss myself, too.”

Honestly, this girl needs to get her ego in check. Majorly. “Shut up.”

“Not unless you make me.”

Azzi shakes her head at the dumb line, but she leans up and kisses her girlfriend anyway.

Paige presses her against the door, pushes against Azzi’s lips with her tongue, and Azzi opens up for her. They make out like that for a while before Paige kisses her cheek and then traces a wet path down Azzi’s jaw, playfully nibbling at a ticklish spot that makes Azzi giggle.

“Be honest,” Paige says, pulling away to smile at her. “I’m pulling off this shit way better than Nika is, right?”

All Azzi really hears is pulling off, which is certainly something she’d like to do to the outfit because Paige always looks best in nothing, but the thought is concerning enough to make her lean away. She’s never skipped class before, and she’s not going to start now.

Paige senses that their time is almost over, and she slips a hand under Azzi’s shirt, rubbing small circles on her tummy with her thumb. “We’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, P,” Azzi replies honestly, because she can never stay mad at Paige, not when she looks at her like she is now. “We are.”

“Okay.” Paige presses one last kiss against her lips, then takes a reluctant step away. “I love you.”

Azzi blushes, then really hates Paige for making her the type of girl to blush at all. “I love you, too.”

She collects her bearings, and just before she walks out of the door, she says, “And yes, by the way. You’re definitely pulling it off better than Nika.”

She gets to her class only ten minutes late, but Jana still looks at her weirdly when she walks in. Azzi doesn’t know if the look is because of her tardiness or the probably stupid smile on her face.

“What’s up with you?” she whispers when Azzi sits down, immediately handing her one of her earbuds to share. “Did you take a really good shit in the bathroom or something?”

Azzi shoves her. Jana says gross things sometimes. “No. Just hit my pen.”

Jana hums suspiciously, then gets back to the writing exercises that they’re supposed to be doing. Azzi pulls out her laptop to do the same, relieved that Jana’s not going to interrogate her like Nika most definitely would.

But as she’s moving onto the second exercise, Jana brushes a thumb over her jaw and says, “Is that lipgloss?”

Usually, Azzi is very good at controlling her reactions, but now she lifts a hand way to quickly to cover the side of her jaw that Paige was kissing just minutes earlier. She can’t believe she didn’t check herself in the mirror before coming to class.

“It looks like the lipgloss Nika’s wearing,” Jana comments. Azzi clears her throat and brings her pencil back to paper, trying her very best to act nonchalant.

“Yeah, she kissed me on the cheek earlier. It must have smudged.”

Azzi feels Jana’s eyes burning into the side of her head, but still she looks firmly down, refusing to give anything for Jana to catch onto.

Eventually she just shrugs. “Oh. Okay.”

She hardly sounds convinced.

𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡

If you were to ask Azzi why she’s secretly dating her best friend’s rival, she would tell you it’s because the secrecy, the sneaking around, the Romeo and Juliet-esque relationship, is exactly what makes dating Paige Bueckers so fun.

This, of course, would be a lie.

The real reason is because Azzi doesn’t think she’s ever met anyone who can make her feel quite the same way that Paige can, nor does she think she ever could. Which may sound a little pretentious and naive, but it’s how she feels.

Paige brings her flowers for no reason at all. Paige listens when she talks about her absentee dad and insufferable mom. Paige lets her lean on her shoulder when everything else in her life is just a little to heavy for her to bear on her own. And, maybe most importantly of all, Paige is, like, a really good kisser.

It all sounds so cliche and juvenile even to Azzi’s own ears, but to her, what they have is maybe the most substantial thing in her life.

Which makes her feel beyond guilty, because since when does she betray her best friends? Has she forgotten how Nika was the first person to ever really listen to Azzi, to talk her through any and every problem she may have? Or how Jana is the only person in the entire world who can help Azzi breathe through a panic attack, who can sense when something is going on at home?

Her friends aren’t artificial. Her friends are just as real as Paige is. Her friends don’t deserve to be left out of the loop of such an important aspect of Azzi’s life, and they certainly don’t deserve for Azzi to turn around and stab them in the back like she does every single day, like she’s been doing every single day for the past three years.

But Azzi is happy with Paige. Happy with her in a way she isn’t with her friends. And, despite all her flaws and all the admittedly mean things she’d said about people in the past, doesn’t she deserve to be happy?

“I can leave, if you want.”

Azzi bites her lip and glances over at Paige, who’s watching her cautiously. She wants to ask Why? or Did I do something? But she knows exactly why Paige’s offering.

She’s having a bad day. She woke up wallowing in her insecurity and has spent the day an anxious ball of guilty energy. She really should have said no when Paige offered to come to her place after school to study, but she thought maybe the company would make her feel better.

Instead, it might be making her feel even worse. All she can think about is how terrible of a friend she is and how terrible of a girlfriend she is and how she’s also sort of a bad person in general.

So, obviously, she’s a little irritable and more than a little distant. When Paige kissed her when they got up to her bedroom, she pulled away almost immediately; when Paige reached over to hold her hand while they were doing homework, she let go as soon as possible under the guise of needing to find a new pencil; and just now, while Azzi was questioning her place in this world and why she deserves it, she had shrugged Paige off when all she did was lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.

It makes sense why Paige would want to leave. But, as badly as Azzi’s PMS-ing today, she still doesn’t want Paige anywhere else but here.

So, she replies with an earnest, “I don’t,” and when Paige looks at her skeptically, she reaches up from her place on the floor and lays a palm on the bed where Paige’s sitting. Paige puts her hand over Azzi’s, albeit tentatively, and looks at her expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” Azzi says with a pout, trying to forget guilt and self-deprecation and just letting herself enjoy holding Paige’s hand, enjoy being in her space. “It’s just been a hard day. I shouldn’t take it out on you, though.”

Paige slides off the bed, sits next to her on her plush carpet. “Did something happen?”

Azzi pulls Paige’s hand into her lap and twiddles with her fingers. “Not specifically. I just woke up feeling bad and pretty much everything that’s happened today has made me want to cry.”

“I could kinda tell,” Paige says, and Azzi worries that she was too obvious about it, but Nika and Jana spent all day with her and they didn’t say anything. Azzi thinks Paige is probably an empath, or maybe she’s just attuned to Azzi’s emotions by now. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me over, but I figured I’d ask just in case and when you said yes I thought it’d make you feel better to have someone around. But if you want to be alone, that’s totally fine.”

“I don’t. I think I’d be lonely if you left and then I probably would cry.”

Paige smiles, opens her legs, a silent invitation much like Azzi’s hand on the bed, and Azzi doesn’t hesitate to move and sit between her legs, leaning back against Paige’s chest, letting herself be held and not feeling suffocated by it.

“If I were a really evolved, in-touch-with-emotions type of girl, I would tell you that you probably should cry,” Paige says, face nuzzled into Azzi’s neck. “But I say we just drop the homework and kiss until your mom gets back instead?”

Azzi giggles, presses her lips against Paige’s, and they do just that. And Azzi is very glad for a girlfriend who has such good ideas, because this is definitely more fun than crying.

𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡

Having a secret relationship is probably one of the hardest things Azzi has ever done. Of course, having a secret relationship can never be easy, but Azzi thinks she has it especially bad because the very friends that she is trying to hide Paige from also happen to be very nosy and very susceptible to barging into Azzi’s house without any warning whatsoever.

Usually, Azzi and Paige are doing something like making out on Azzi’s bed whenever Nika or Jana invite themselves into Azzi’s home. It’s always pretty nerve-wracking, but it’s also not that difficult to just shove Paige under her bed or into her closet the moment they hear Jana’s yelling or Nika’s loud-ass laugh in the hallway. Of course, the fact that Paige has to sit in a cramped space until they can find a way to properly sneak her out is unfortunate, and it’s also sad when their time together is cut so abruptly short, but they usually just end up laughing about it later. No harm done.

Today, though, is different.

Paige and Azzi are not in Azzi’s room today, because they are in the kitchen instead, baking cookies.

Azzi’s mother is out on a trip with her latest boyfriend, and her brothers are out doing whatever they do on the weekends, leaving the entire house to her. Which means they don’t have to hide out in her room like they usually do.

Of course, maybe baking was a mistake, seeing as neither of them exactly know how to bake. There’s flour everywhere, the cookie dough has a weird texture, and they’ve spent more time ‘taste-testing’ than actually baking.

But, still, Azzi is having more fun than she’s had in a really long time.

“This is a good look for you,” Azzi says, inspecting the flour stuck to Paige’s eyelashes. “The white really brings out your eyes.”

“Oh, yeah?” Paige bats her eyelashes, then pulls Azzi in by the waist and kisses her.

Azzi pulls away, nose wrinkled. “You taste like flour, Paige.”

Paige kisses her nose, then her jaw, then her ear before saying, “That’s probably because you threw flour at me. Like a psycho.”

Azzi wants to tell her that she didn’t mean to throw it, it just flung out of the measuring cup when she slipped on the oil that Paige spilled earlier, so really it’s her own fault that she’s covered in flour, but Paige is kissing her neck and pressing her against the cupboards, and all she can really do is sigh contentedly.

After a minute, Paige grabs the bottoms of her thighs and lifts her onto the counter, probably so she doesn’t have to bend down so much to kiss where she wants to. Azzi gasps when Paige sucks at her collarbone, and she tangles her fingers in Paige’s hair, and she’s just worrying about the cookies and how they’ll probably burn if they get any more distracted when the front door opens.

Paige detaches from Azzi’s neck, though her hands stay underneath her shirt, still playing with the wire of her bra. “What—“

“Az!” it’s Nika. Of course it’s goddamn Nika. “You’re home, right?”

“Azzziiiii,” sings a second voice. Jana. “Azzzziiiii!”

Paige tries to say something else, and Azzi shoves her face in her chest to silence her while she tries to think. The front entryway leads into the living room. There’s a door from there that leads to the kitchen. If Nika and Jana decide to check the kitchen first, then Azzi and Paige are screwed.

Azzi holds her breath, clutching anxiously at Paige’s head as the footsteps get closer. The girls are still calling for her, and Azzi thinks she hears them pause outside the door, but the next second the footsteps get fainter as they walk towards the staircase.

“Shit,” Azzi mutters, releasing her girlfriend’s head. “That was close.”

Paige rubs at a spot on her scalp where Azzi must have dug her fingernails in too hard and glares. “You didn’t tell me they were coming over.”

“I didn’t know they were coming over.”

“They’re kind of shitty friends. They always show up without asking you if it’s okay.”

There are a lot of downsides to dating somebody who hates her best friends, but the biggest one is probably the arguments they get into whenever Paige says things like this and Azzi gets defensive.

She slips off the counter, straightens her shirt, and gives Paige a little shove towards the door. “They knew I was home alone. They had no reason not to come over.”

Paige pouts at her. “I don’t wanna leave.”

“You have to, Paige.”

“Why?”

“Because you just do.”

The pout falls, turns into a frown that is much less cute and much more angry. “Kick them out instead of me.”

This takes Azzi aback. Paige has never asked for such a thing, has never questioned it when Azzi has to choose her friends over her. “I can’t do that.���

“Why not?” Paige’s tone is challenging, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “Why can’t you just tell them that you don’t feel like hanging out today and ask them to leave?”

Azzi hesitates. The change in the atmosphere has thrown her for a loop. A minute ago, they were kissing, and now Paige looks like she’s rearing up for a fight that Azzi doesn’t want to have. “I don’t know. I don’t really want them to leave, Paige. I like hanging out with them.”

“You see them all the time at school,” Paige says. “You’re with them every weekend. If I don’t ask you to hang out a week in advance, you’ve already made plans with them. Moments like these—“ Paige motions at their surroundings—“are getting way too fucking rare. And even when we do hang out, this always ends up happening. You have to sneak me out like I’m some dirty secret when they show up unsolicited, because you choose them over me every fucking time.”

“You were just saying you needed space because we were spending to much time together, and now it’s not enough?” It’s silly, but all Azzi can think about is how she and Paige made a rule to never cuss while they’re angry at each other, and Azzi finds herself wanting to bring that up rather than face this poorly timed argument. Instead, she just tries to keep her voice down because the footsteps from overhead are getting louder. She sighs. “Now isn’t a good time for this, Paige.”

“Of course it isn’t.” Paige scoffs, runs a hand through her hair, and grabs her phone off the kitchen counter. “You know what? Fuck you, Azzi.” And then she turns around and just…leaves.

Azzi stares after her, even after the kitchen door has closed and her footsteps have long disappeared.

Her phone starts ringing. The sound startles her into movement, and she looks around, realizes Paige left her sweater sitting on the island. She hides it. Then, she answers the phone.

“Where are you?” Nika says accusingly. “Your car is in the driveway, so we know you’re home.”

“Are you guys over?” Azzi asks, trying her best to sound aloof rather than panicked. “I’ve had my earphones in for the past, like, hour. I’m in the kitchen.”

“Since when do you even step foot in your kitchen?”

“Since today, I guess. I’m making cookies.”

“Okay, we’re coming down.” On cue, Azzi hears footsteps descending the staircase. “Hold on.”

Nika hangs up, then appears in the kitchen with Jana a second later. “Hey, pretty.”

Azzi takes a shaky breath and smiles. “Hi.”

Jana stares at her. “You have flour on your neck.”

Azzi wipes it away, unworried about whether it was left in the shape of Paige’s lips or not.

“We thought you might be bored, all alone in the house.” Nika wanders around the kitchen. They hardly ever come in here, because Azzi has a mini fridge and candy stash in her bedroom and Nika’s house is where the good snacks are at, anyway. “Obviously we were right. You were reduced to baking cookies.”

Azzi tries for a laugh. Nika seems completely unaware of her strange behavior, but Jana is still looking at her intently. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah.” Azzi can never lie to Jana, so she says, “I mean, I sort of have a headache, but it’s okay.”

Nika hoists herself onto the counter, sitting at the same spot Azzi was a few minutes ago, when Paige was here and close and warm. “Want to go shopping later?”

Azzi nods, and can’t help thinking she’s made a terrible mistake.

𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡

The first time Azzi met Paige, she was fourteen.

Paige was some sort of basketball prodigy, a year older than Azzi and yet playing at a higher level than any other sophomore, and when Azzi saw her standing at the front of her lit class, introducing herself all-too confidently, her first thought was that she was very, very pretty.

Her second thought was that Paige could fit in perfectly with Azzi and Nika and Jana. This was her first mistake.

When she told Nika about it later that day, her best friend was furious. She told Azzi about how Paige had already tried to one-up her in debate club (which was Nika’s thing) and had also already been named the school’s basketball star before even playing in a game (also definitely Nika’s thing).

Obviously, this new girl was trying to take Nika’s spot as queen bee. Azzi still didn’t see why Paige couldn’t just join their group and be with them rather than against them, but Jana seemed to agree with Nika on this one, so she was sort of outnumbered.

Paige found her own group of friends soon enough, and the rest of the year was spent as some sort of long competition between the two groups—Who can silence a room the fastest? Who can wear the most expensive clothes? Who can throw the best parties?—and neither one of them ever came out on top. It was a constant tug-o-war.

For some reason, Nika was under the impression that since Paige was from a different state, that meant she was only going to be in Virginia for a year before she moved away again. Nika spent the whole summer singing about how the next year was going to be a fresh start, an amazing, Paige-less year—she was ecstatic.

(One June day, Azzi was out shopping with her brother and she saw Paige browsing one of the shops. They made eye contact. Paige waved, and Azzi smiled shyly. It was their first real interaction besides sharing blushing glances in class.

Azzi didn’t tell Nika about that.)

After the interaction, she found herself hoping that, since Paige hadn’t moved away by June, it meant she would still be around for the school year. It was no surprise to her, then, when Paige walked through the doors of the high school on her first day as sophomore, looking really cute in her school uniform.

Nika nearly fainted, and Azzi pretended to be shocked and angry when really she was just hoping for a chance to speak to Paige this year.

And then they got paired up together for the biology assignment.

“Hey,” Paige had said after the teacher had announced their partners and instructed them to go to each other’s desks to get to know one another. “You’re Azzi.”

Internally, Azzi was flipping her shit. She had never seen Paige up close before, and she was even prettier when she was standing right there. Plus, there was a pink tint to her pale cheeks and she was wringing her hands nervously, which let Azzi know they were feeling more or less the same way.

But on the outside, Azzi was as cool as a cucumber. She was known for her I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude and effortlessly pretty smiles, and squealing at Paige’s closeness would be a foolproof way to ruin her brand.

“Yeah, I am,” she replied, and then she thought of Nika. She couldn’t keep something like this from her. She still didn’t understand why Nika and Paige hated each other so much, but she was in no place to argue against their little rivalry. All she could do was try to stay loyal to her best friend.

But that didn’t mean she had to be a bitch to Paige. Paige seemed nice, and if she was okay with setting she and Nika’s strife aside to be friends with Azzi, then Azzi was perfectly fine with that, too. Even if the friendship had to stay a secret.

Nika freaked when she found out, of course. She gave very specific instructions to Azzi—don’t speak to her unless it’s about the assignment, don’t let her into your house, and don’t, under any circumstances, tell her anything about the group. Anything and everything she said could be used against her, against them, as blackmail.

Azzi broke basically every one of these rules within the first week of she and Paige’s partnership. Because Paige was cool, and funny, and she told good stories and turned out to be a great listener. And, again, she happened to be very nice to look at.

They got an A on that assignment, and Paige didn’t stop coming over after they finished it.

Needless to say, Azzi soon realized why she got all giggly and nervous around Paige—it was because she had a crush. Which brought on a whole slew of identity crises and a lot of looking back at certain events in her life and thinking Oh, that makes so much sense now, but the side effects that came with realizing she was queer could be saved for later.

For the moment, all she could think about was how maybe, maybe, Paige just might have felt the same way.

Azzi spent a lot of time picking petals off flowers, she loves me, she loves me not, and analyzing basically every single thing Paige said and did while they were together. Paige grabbed her hand at a jumpscare in the movie, did that mean anything? Or what about when Azzi caught her staring and she looked away and blushed—that had to mean something, right?

The end of the year rolled around before Azzi could figure out if anything actually meant anything. Paige and Azzi made plans to see each other over winter break. The night after the last day of school, Paige showed up at Azzi’s front doorstep and said, “I like you a lot, and I don’t want to end the year without kissing you,” and Azzi said, “We’re seeing each other on Wednesday, silly,” and then she leaned forward and kissed her for the first time.

All promises about staying loyal to Nika flew out the window the minute their lips slotted awkwardly together, but that didn’t matter so much to Azzi anymore.

She’d pulled away and said, “We won’t tell Nika about this, right?”

“No,” Paige replied. “I guess not.”

And that’s how their relationship started—with a secret friendship and a hidden first kiss.

They are used to their world being confined in a tiny locked box, never to be opened by anyone but them. But worlds can’t grow, Azzi will come to learn, without space.

𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡

The curious thing about Paige is that she’s the type of person who looks like she could never, ever get angry, let alone at someone she loves as much as she loves Azzi. But then you catch yourself saying the wrong thing, or stumbling over your words at the wrong time, and she explodes, because when all that time you thought she was simply a happy, contented girl without a hateful bone in her body, she was really letting the anger sit just underneath her skin to fester.

Paige does not explode, however, in the way that explosions usually happen. Even when the anger bubbles up to the surface and bares its ugly teeth, she is quiet about it. She doesn’t scream, or demand answers, or stomp her feet and yell. She looks you in the eye, says what she wants to say, and leaves.

She leaves, and she takes your heart with her.

It has been four days since Azzi and Paige fought. Or, to put it more accurately, since Paige fought and Azzi sat there like a stump. A stupid, clueless stump. Azzi has been trying to contact her girlfriend basically every spare minute she gets since then, but there has been nothing. Paige’s ghosting her.

This isn’t the first time this has happened. Last year, they got into a fight much bigger and louder than this one, and in the middle of it Paige had said something like “I can’t do this anymore” before walking out the door.

Paige had no idea, then, that Azzi’s father left them after a big fight with her mother. She did not know that he had said almost the same words, worn almost the same expression as he walked away as if it were nothing.

Azzi panicked, surprised by the likeness of it all, surprised by her own reaction to it, surprised that Paige could leave her as easily as he did. Her mom found her in the bathroom, trying and failing to breathe properly because she’d driven somebody away again.

She was scared of the rejection that would surely come with reaching out, but she did it anyway, sending Paige one long text and reminding herself that this is why she doesn’t let herself care about people too much when Paige didn’t respond.

But the next day, Paige knocked on her bedroom door with a bouquet of flowers and begged to her, please, I’m sorry, I love you, and Azzi told her about her past, about why her dad isn’t around anymore.

Paige held her, and said, “I will never leave you again. I will stay right here forever. I promise.”

And yet, here they are. And maybe that’s what hurts the most.

But Azzi knows that, this time, Paige is not the one who needs to apologize. So, after four days of radio silence, she shows up at Paige’s doorstep after school when she is supposed to be at a soccer game, because Paige was right. Azzi has had to choose between Paige and everything else in her life for a long time, and she always goes for everything else when she’s pretty sure that Paige is her everything. So, here she is, missing a pretty important match, freezing her ass off on Paige’s front porch, and hoping that Paige will just answer the door and give her a chance to explain herself.

The door opens, but it’s not Paige. It’s Paige’s stepmom. “Oh, Azzi. Hi, honey.” She looks quite confused, for some reason, but not angry, which makes Azzi think Paige hasn’t told her family about what happened.

“Um, hi. Is Paige home?”

The confusion on her face deepens. “No, she went out with KK about a half hour ago. Said they were going to watch your soccer game.”

Azzi stops. She stops because this whole time, these past ninety-six hours, she has been terrified because Paige left. But now Paige is trying to come back, despite everything.

“Thank you,” Azzi says, and then she walks back to her car and pulls her phone out of her pocket just as it starts ringing.

“Azzi,” Paige says when she picks up.

“Where are you?” Azzi asks, because she needs to apologize in person.

“I’m at your house. I—I went to the school, to see you, but you weren’t there, and you’re not at your house either.”

“I know. I came to see you. It was more important than the match.”

There’s a pause, and then Paige exhales something like relief. “Come to me?”

Azzi starts her car. “Always.”

𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡

When Azzi was little—when her parents never fought, before her younger brothers were adopted—she had a universe for a bedroom.

Now, this is a very well-kept secret of Azzi’s, but she was sort of lame back in kindergarten. Her father was really into astronomy, and Azzi was able to read the stars like a second language before she ever opened a book. So, for her fourth birthday, all that she asked for was a space-themed bedroom.

She fell asleep in her older brother’s room the night before her birthday. And when she woke up, she had been magically transported to her own room, except it wasn’t her own room anymore. It had been professionally painted, and murals of all the planets in the universe had been painted on every wall, making her feel like she was taking a walk through the sky. The ceiling was split into two halves: on one side, there was the sun, this giant fiery ball of yellow that Azzi was sure would fall down on her if she wasn’t careful—and on the other, the moon sat not quite as bright nor quite as extraordinary as its counterpart, but Azzi thought it must have been much less lonely because it had all the stars and constellations for company and the sun only had itself.

That night, her parents lay in bed with her. Her dad pointed out all of her favorite constellations which the painters had so carefully constructed, and her mom stared around the room with something like wonder.

“So, we got you the universe,” her dad had told her as he tucked her in, after her mom had already left the room. “How can we top that for your big O-five?”

“Don’t be silly, daddy,” she’d giggled. “I can’t have the whole universe.”

“Why not?” he’d asked.

Azzi found that she didn’t know how to answer him.

𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡

It starts to rain while Azzi’s driving, and usually she would slow down because it terrifies her to drive in the rain, but today she can’t seem to be that scared of hydroplaning or careening or dying because all she can think about is how Paige hates the cold and she’s standing outside of Azzi’s locked, empty house with nothing but the roof over the front porch as shelter.

She gets to her house in ten minutes, which is a record time considering it’s a busy Saturday afternoon and there’s traffic lining every street. Paige is sitting on her porch in a t-shirt and baggy jeans when Azzi pulls into the driveway, and she gets out of her car, passes by without even looking at her to unlock the door. She hears her stand up, take a step towards her. “Azzi—“

She opens the door. “Let’s get inside. You’re gonna catch a cold.”

Paige looks at her a little hesitantly, but she does what Azzi asks anyway.

Once they’re inside, Azzi splays her palms over Paige’s forearms, thumbs rubbing at her cold elbows, animosity and fear forgotten for the moment, overpowered by the need to take care of her girlfriend. “How long were you outside?”

Paige stares down at Azzi for a moment, looking at her as if this is some sort of trick. “Azzi…” but Azzi levels her with a look that says later, and she relaxes a little. “I don’t know. At least ten minutes, I guess.”

“You should go change. You left your sweatpants over awhile ago. And I have your sweater from Tuesday.” They both flinch a little at the mention of Tuesday, like even mentioning it will take them right back there. Azzi backs away and nudges her towards the hallway. “I’ll make hot chocolate, and then we can talk.”

As soon as Paige is upstairs, Azzi goes to the kitchen and puts the kettle on to boil. She’s trying to think of how she should apologize, how she can make up for all the mistakes she’s made in the past year. Well, almost two years. Their anniversary is in a couple months. Which reminds her that she needs to start looking for a gift, because shipping is slow this time of year.

That is, if she and Paige are still together a month from now, if Paige doesn’t break up with her today. Which, yeah, maybe she’d deserve that because she hasn’t been a great girlfriend. But she doesn’t think she could get over it if Paige broke up with her.

The milk starts boiling just as Azzi starts crying just as Paige walks into the room, dressed in warm clothes and looking pretty enough that Azzi cries harder and turns away, embarrassed, busying herself with turning the stove on low.

Paige doesn’t say anything about Azzi’s sniffles or the way she’s wiping her eyes angrily with the sleeves of her sweater. She just grabs two mugs and moves Azzi’s hands away from the stovetop, pours the boiling water.

Azzi watches her miserably. “I’m supposed to be making it for you,” she hiccups.

“It’s okay, mama,” Paige murmurs, and Azzi knows that this is Paige’s way of comforting her without the risk of getting too close.

Azzi goes into the pantry, mainly to collect herself and to try to stop her lips from quivering anymore. When she comes out with three hot chocolate packets, the tears streaming down her cheeks are silent.

She pours them into the mugs—two packets for Paige, one for herself—and lets Paige stir them in, watching the milk turn brown and creamy.

By the time they’re settled in the living room, Azzi’s properly embarrassed. She hides behind her mug, pulling her legs into herself, and tries to remember how to speak. She’s spent every second since their argument going over how she’s going to apologize, what she’s going to say, what she’s going to do. But now that Paige is here, sitting in front of her looking tentative and a little angry, all of that seems useless. Instead, she blurts out the one thing that’s been in the back of her mind since she realized that Paige came back for her. “Are you here to break up with me?”

Paige sighs, sets her hot chocolate down on the coffee table. “Azzi, no.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Azzi adds, but the words choke her up again so she closes her mouth.

“Just because we argued doesn’t mean I want to break up with you.” Paige avoids her eyes, picks at the expensive fabric of Azzi’s couch. She says, voice a little shyer now, “I asked you to come to me, didn’t I?”

Yeah, she did.

“Are you…” Azzi peers at her over the rim of her mug, “angry with me?”

“To be honest? Yeah,” she says quietly, like a part of her is scared to hurt Azzi. And it does hurt, a little bit, but Azzi would rather she be honest with her than hide her feelings for Azzi’s sake. “I’m not just angry with you, though. I’m also hurt, and sorta sad, and I miss you a lot, despite everything. And I’m mad at myself for how I handled…everything.” She meets Azzi’s eyes sort of sheepishly, and then shrugs like none of what she said matters.

Azzi opens her mouth to apologize, but instead what comes out is a soft, “I’m proud of you for telling me that,” because it’s always been incredibly hard for Paige to communicate, to put her feelings into words.

Azzi isn’t sure whether her being proud has any substance right now, but Paige’s eyes widen and then she smiles just a little bit, looking back down at the sofa bashfully. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

Azzi hums, and then she puts her hand on Paige’s knee, lightly enough that she knows she can move away if she wants to. She doesn’t move away, though, just lifts her eyes, and Azzi says, vehemently, “I’m really sorry, Paige.”

Paige nods, places her hand over Azzi’s, and watches her expectantly.

“What you said that day…Paige, I’m not going to say I hadn’t noticed the way I’d been treating you. I’m not going to say that I had no idea I’ve been putting you second to everything in my life for awhile now, because of course I did. Every time I chose someone, or something, over you, I was making a conscious decision to do that.” She stops to frown at herself—this is more difficult than she thought it would be. Paige rubs a thumb over her knuckles, gives her an encouraging nod, and that’s enough to make Azzi continue. “I guess it was just easier that way. It was easier to cut you out of my life whenever it was convenient, knowing you would come right back the next day acting like it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Which sucks,” Paige says.

Azzi looks down shamefully. “I know.”

“I know that what we’re doing is complicated,” Paige says, scooting a little closer to her. “But the way you’ve been treating me…it’s mean, Azzi.”

Tears well in Azzi’s eyes when she hears the hurt in Paige’s voice, and hearing that—seeing it written all over her face up close—she understands now the weight of everything she’s done, all the mistakes she’s made. And yet Paige is still here, holding her hand, willing to make this work.

And Azzi is sure as hell willing to change. For her. For them.

“I know,” she whispers again. “I’ve been a really shitty girlfriend.” She wipes a stray tear away with her free hand, and Paige’s lips wobble. She looks away, probably to pull herself together, and Azzi reminds herself of the one-cry-a-day rule that she put in place for herself a few years ago, which sort of helps her stop sniffling. “And I’m really, really sorry.”

Paige squeezes her hand. “I know you are.”

It’s not forgiveness, not yet, but Azzi feels better knowing that Paige knows how sincere she is.

“I could’ve handled it better, too,” Paige says after a silent moment. “I never meant to blow up on you like that, and especially not at such a bad time. I was just…I had had enough, I guess.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me sooner?” Azzi asks gently.

Paige gives her a sad little smile. “I was sort of hoping I wouldn’t have to.”

Paige hates conflict, but Azzi knows it’s not about that. It’s about the fact that she shouldn’t have had to talk about it—Azzi shouldn’t have kept treating her like shit until she reached the end of her line. But she did. And here they are.

“Baby,” Azzi breathes, a new wave of guilt crashing over her, and she wonders if she will ever stop feeling bad about this. It’s probably for the best if she doesn’t, anyway.

“I know,” Paige whispers. She takes Azzi’s hand off her knee, and for a moment Azzi is worried that she’s going to turn her away, but she just starts playing with her fingers like she does whenever she gets anxious. “I should have talked about it before I got so angry, though. Or I at least could have picked a better time to yell at you about it.” The teasing lilt in her voice makes Azzi smile a little, but then Paige’s wincing. “And I’m sorry for cussing at you. I feel the most bad about that.”

Azzi has spent the better part of the year treating Paige like she’s nothing more than a second thought, and yet Paige is still apologizing for something so small, so insignificant in the end, and Azzi almost wishes Paige would break up with her, find someone a million times better, someone who can treat her right.

“It’s okay,” she says, knowing Paige won’t let her dismiss the apology. “Hey,” Paige is avoiding her eyes, so she takes her chin, angles her face towards her until they’re looking straight at each other, “I’m going to be better, okay? I don’t care if my friends can’t know about you. I don’t care if it’s easier to keep them from asking questions than it is to ask you to stay. I care about you.” This, most of all, is what she wants Paige to know, because she deserves to feel nothing but loved, respected, cared for. “From now on, I’m going to show it better, okay? I love you. I love you so much I don’t even know what to do with myself sometimes. I want you to know that, even if it feels stupid to say.”

Paige juts her bottom lip out a little bit, and she leans into Azzi’s touch, leans into Azzi, getting close enough to her that Azzi can feel her breath on her lips when she murmurs, “Promise?”

“Promise,” she echoes, and she does. She stays where she is, letting Paige decide whether she wants to move away or close the gap, and she almost gasps when Paige bridges the space between them, even though she sees it coming. It’s a soft, tentative kiss, like they’re trying to remember how to fit together, trying to be gentle with each other in the way they weren’t four days ago, trying to say I love you and I’m sorry and I promise all at once.

It takes a moment to catch her breath when they separate because Azzi’s heart and lungs had already nearly forgotten what it was like to kiss Paige, but by the time she finds her voice again, she says, “Can you promise me something, too?”

Cupping Azzi’s face in her hands, Paige nods and pecks her on the lips.

“If we ever find ourselves here again, please do me a favor and dump me. Like, don’t be nice about it, either. Pull a Regina George and sabotage me, or something.”

Paige stares at her for a moment, and then she laughs, that loud, full laugh that Azzi loves so much. “You’re ridiculous.”

Something inside Azzi slides into place, like she’s been missing a vital organ and just got a life-saving transplant. “I’m serious! You need to have some self-respect, baby.”

“How about,” Paige kisses her again, “we just try not to find ourselves here again. Yeah?”

“Seriously,” Azzi says, more to herself than Paige, “you have such good ideas.”

Paige giggles, calls her a dork, and kisses her. Just like that, everything is right in the world once again.

[iydiamartinx]

A STUDY OF RIVALS

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune word count: 4.7k synopsis: Damian meets his rival but perhaps he doesn't hate her as much as he thought. a/n: This one took forever!

Damian Wayne was infuriatingly brilliant.

But even more infuriating? So were you.

From the moment you stepped through the wrought-iron gates of Gotham Academy, you were a headline. The only daughter of your mother—billionaire philanthropist and formidable tech magnate—you had been raised in private academies scattered across Europe and Asia, groomed for excellence in spotless marble halls and classrooms with vaulted ceilings. You returned to Gotham only when your mother decided it was time to come home, bringing her empire and her heir with her.

You arrived polished and composed. Impossibly articulate for someone your age. And intelligent—almost scarily so.

The paparazzi did anything to get a photo of you and your mother

Despite transferring half way through the school year at Gotham Academy the prestigious school was more than happy to take you in. By first period, your name was already on everyone’s lips. Teachers adored you and students all wanted to be your friend. They whispered about your legacy. Your net worth. Your wardrobe. Your private driver. You were the closest thing to royalty Gotham had since the Waynes.

At first Damian didn’t bother to pay attention, you were just another socialite in designer shoes. However, that changed by second period when you dared to challenge him in literature class.

The teacher had called on Damian, who, without looking up from his annotated copy of The Raven, delivered a perfectly adequate—if not slightly bored—analysis of Poe’s narrative technique. He’d spent enough time reading Jason’s battered paperbacks to be familiar with Poe’s rhythm.

That should've been the end of it but then you spoke up.

“I actually disagree,” you said, your voice calm and clear for someone your age. There was no malice or the intent to belittle—just the unwavering tone of someone who had never once been taught to doubt herself. “I think the narrator’s unreliability was intentional. Poe used it to emphasize the descent into madness, not obscure it.”

The room had gone quiet. Even the teacher blinked, caught off guard by your boldness. No one ever dared to disagree with Damian, usually because he was always right, or because they were terrified of the consequences that would come from doing such a thing.

Damian turned in his seat slowly, regarding you like a hawk sizing up competition.

Your eyes met his calmly.

He stared back, impassive. “It wasn’t meant to obscure, no. But emphasizing madness through unreliability can still hinder clarity of narrative. The reader is left unanchored—intentionally.”

You tilted your head slightly. “But that’s the point, isn’t it? Poe wanted us to feel disoriented. He wasn’t just telling us the character was unraveling. He was making us experience it.”

From the back of the classroom, someone muttered under their breath, “Uh oh.”

The teacher cleared his throat, clearly unsure whether to intervene or just let the exchange continue. “Excellent… insight,” he offered cautiously, glancing between the two of you like a man tiptoeing through a minefield. “Both of you. Let’s move on, shall we?”

But you and Damian didn’t move on.

From that moment on, it was war.

The rivalry began innocently enough—almost imperceptibly at first.

He completed a pop quiz in twelve minutes. You finished it in ten.

He aced the physics lab. You beat him in algebra.

He turned in an essay on ancient warfare quoting The Art of War. You cited Thucydides, pointed out a flaw in his argument, and corrected his citation aloud when it came to peer editing them.

By the end of the week, you’d tied his calculus score. By the next, your name appeared beneath his on the school’s academic leaderboard. Only one point behind. The following Monday, it was on top.

Damian hadn’t lost a ranking since he started at Gotham Academy.

“Tt,” he muttered under his breath, glaring at the board.

“She’s impressive,” one of the teachers had said offhandedly. “Such a brilliant student. She reminds me of you, Mr. Wayne.”

Damian had scowled. You were not like him. There was no one like him, he had been raised to surpass excellence—to conquer it. Trained since birth by the League of Assassins, tutored by the world’s brightest minds, fluent in four languages by age six. He had Sun Tzu memorized before most children learned to read. And you? You were just some rich girl in a perfectly pressed uniforms.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t figure out what you’d done to earn his scorn—but his snide remarks and condescending tone had begun to gnaw at you. Irritating you to the point you made it a personal mission to beat him at everything. 

One afternoon, after an especially gruelling debate in History, the two of you were called to stay behind. The teacher then turned to face you both with a look that fell somewhere between exasperation and reluctant pride.

“I’ve never had two students correct me in the same breath,”  he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re both brilliant, but maybe next time let me finish the sentence before starting a turf war over Napoleon.”

You cast a sideways glance at Damian, only to find that he was already looking at you.

His sharp green eyes narrowed slightly. You looked away, lifting your chin and straightening your shoulders as you turned your gaze back to the teacher. You weren’t about to be caught admiring his infuriatingly handsome self. 

Once you two were dismissed, he turned to you in the nearly empty hallway, brushing nonexistent dust off his blazer.

“You know,” he started, voice dry, “you talk too much for someone who’s wrong half the time.”

Your eyes narrow. “Funny. I was about to say the same about you.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and stalked away—head held high, heels clicking, and more than ready for a Damian-free weekend.

Only… that wasn’t the case.

Not even twenty-four hours after your latest victory in the history debate, you found yourself being pulled from the backseat of your town car in front of Gotham’s most exclusive ballroom. Cameras flashed. Paparazzi shouted your mother’s name and yours. Your jaw locked the moment you stepped out, heels clicking sharply against the marble as you followed her up the steps.

“This is a waste of time,” you muttered under your breath, gaze fixed ahead.

“Nonsense,” your mother replied without so much as a glance over her shoulder, her tone breezy and clipped, laced with that ever-present note of amusement. “A little public goodwill never hurt anyone. Besides, it’s good to make connections. One day, you’ll take over my legacy.”

Inside, the venue glittered. Filled with polished chandeliers, soft golden lighting, and murmured laughter. Gotham’s elite mingled beneath banners for children’s hospitals and tech-forward philanthropy. Champagne flutes sparkled between manicured fingers. A string quartet played something classic in the corner. And you stayed precisely half a step behind your mother as she navigated the room like a queen surveying her court.

At some point, you stopped paying attention.

Your mother flitted between conversations with years of practiced charm. Making the rounds as she talked to important investors and socialites. It wasn’t until she said your name that you blinked back to the present. 

“Y/N.”

You looked up. Both your mother and a tall, dark-haired man were watching you expectantly. 

“Bruce, this is my daughter, Y/N,” your mother said smoothly. “Honey, this is Bruce Wayne.”

The name instantly grabbed your attention. You knew who he was, of course. Everyone did.

Bruce Wayne offered you a hand and an easy smile. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard impressive things.”

You returned the gesture with one of your own—polite but not quite warm. “Likewise, Mr. Wayne.”

His eyes, though friendly, were sharp—like he saw more than he let on. You recognized the look. You’d seen it in boardrooms, in interviews, in your mother’s own reflection when she touched up her lipstick before a negotiation. It was the look of someone sizing you up—measuring your potential. 

“My youngest son is about your age,” Bruce commented casually. “Perhaps you know him—Damian?”

Before you could respond, the devil himself materialized like he’d been summoned by name. “Father—”

“Ah, Damian, we were just talking about you!” Bruce said, his entire expression shifting as he reached to pull his son closer with a fondness that Damian met with stiff resistance. “This is Ms. L/N,” he added, gesturing to your mother, “and this is her daughter, Y/N.”

Damian’s sharp green eyes landed on you, his mouth tightening ever so slightly. “Yes. We share classes.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” your mother said smoothly, her voice laced with that signature diplomatic charm—the kind designed to make people feel flattered, even when they weren’t. “She’s spoken so highly of her classmates. I’m glad to know she’s surrounded by such… driven young people.”

You caught the subtle pause. Driven, not kind. Not friendly. Your mother had no patience for meaningless social niceties. She reserved her praise for those she deemed worthy, and the way she was now sizing up Damian said it all. Just like Bruce had done with you, she was assessing Damian with the same calculating precision she used on CEOs across glossy conference tables—because like you, he was a legacy.

“Likewise,” Damian said smoothly, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed any sincerity. “Y/N is… competent.”

You turned to him slowly, one brow arched. “Just competent?” you echoed, voice as sweet as honey, but the edge beneath it was razor-sharp. “Funny. I seem to recall consistently scoring higher than you on every major assessment.”

He scoffed. “Then perhaps your memory is askew.”

Bruce let out an awkward chuckle, and your mother’s brow lifted in amusement as the tension between you and Damian practically crackled.

“It seems our children have a bit of healthy competition,” Bruce remarked lightly, though his eyes flicked to Damian warningly but also filled with new understanding. So that was the reason for the sudden uptick in academic ambition. Before you, Bruce had to practically hunt him down and threaten to ban him from patrol to get him to go to school. “You’ll have to forgive him. Manners are still a work in progress.”

“I don’t know,” your mother mused, taking a slow sip of her champagne. “He reminds me a bit of you when you were younger. All sharp eyes and sharper opinions.”

“Mother,” you warned under your breath.

“Oh, come now,” she said with a smirk, eyes glinting. “I’m simply saying it’s nice to see you have a rival to keep you on your toes. Bruce and I were much the same in our youth. It’s good for you.”

Something unspoken passed between them, buried under years of power and poise. They stood too close for it to be entirely innocent, their glances too measured, their silences filled with unspoken words. You weren’t sure if you wanted to roll your eyes, gag, or start backing away before things got weird or well…weirder.

“Well,” Bruce said at last, raising his glass in your mother’s direction, “I’m glad they’re getting along... sort of.”

Damian let out a scoff beside you.

“Mmm,” your mother hummed, clinking her glass to his with a knowing smile. “Let’s just hope they’re nothing like us in our youth.”

You finally chose option three—and it seemed so did Damian.

Without a word, the two of you turned on your heels and made a clean, silent escape. You didn’t need to say anything. The moment your mother started reminiscing about her and Bruce’s youth—with that knowing look in her eyes—you knew it was time to evacuate.

You didn’t so much as glance his way as you moved, but you could feel him beside you, the stiffness in his posture betraying his quiet irritation.

The ballroom opened into a quieter hallway off to the side, lined with towering windows and heavy velvet drapes that muffled the noise from the main event. It was cooler here, the lighting softer, almost reverent. You paused near one of the window alcoves and plucked a glass of water from a tray left on a pedestal, the crystal catching the dim light as you took a slow sip.

Damian stopped beside you, arms crossed, jaw tight. “Does your mother and my father know they’re insufferable?”

You took another sip before replying. “I don’t think they care.”

He gave a soundless huff of agreement, eyes scanning the crowd judgmentally. “How long do you think they’ll keep us here?”

“Long enough to secure five new investors and two photo ops,” you muttered, setting your glass down.

He absentmindedly nodded. “An accurate assessment.”

You tilted your head, giving him a slow look. “Careful. That almost sounded like agreement.”

He scoffed without looking at you. “Statistically speaking, even you were bound to say something useful eventually.”

Your eyes narrowed, a sharp retort already forming on your tongue—but you didn’t get the chance.

“Y/N!” a shrill voice called, honeyed and eager.

You turned just in time to see a well-dressed socialite approaching, eyes alight with recognition. “I just have to say, your mother is such an inspiration—I’ve followed her work for years! And you’re her daughter? My goodness, the resemblance is uncanny…”

As the woman launched into a full-blown gush fest, you fought the urge to sigh—and instinctively glanced to your side.

But Damian was gone. 

Meanwhile, Damian had taken the opportunity to slip away, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease until he rejoined his siblings near the bar. Jason, leaning casually against the counter with a glass in hand, raised a brow and nodded subtly in your direction.

“Who was that you were talking to?”

Tim glanced up as well, curiosity piqued. “Yeah, I didn’t realize you had any friends, Demon Spawn.”

Damian rolled his eyes, arms folding across his chest in irritation. “She’s not my friend,” he muttered. “She’s an infuriating enemy I unfortunately cannot get rid of.”

He exhaled sharply, his gaze cutting across the ballroom to where you stood at the far end, still trapped in conversation. You nodded politely, offering a rehearsed smile while yet another socialite praised your mother’s latest tech innovation. Damian looked visibly annoyed just watching it.

“What’d she do?” Dick asked, genuine interest threading through his voice. It wasn’t like Damian to fixate on anyone who wasn’t a threat—or family.

“She exists,” Damian said flatly. “And insists on doing so at the top of every class ranking I hold.”

Tim let out a low whistle, dragging out the sound. “Ah. Academic rivalry. That explains the tension. Thought for a second you were flirting.”

Damian’s head whipped over to look at him like he’d sprouted a second head. “Don’t be stupid.”

Jason grinned behind the rim of his glass. “You mean to tell me someone’s finally smart enough to challenge you and you don’t like it? You’ve been whining about your classmates’ IQs ever since Bruce made you go to school.”

“They are stupid,” Damian snapped. “And she’s not a challenge. She’s just—annoying. Always has an opinion. Always needs to correct everyone.”

"By everyone, I'm assuming that you're referring to yourself," Jason smirked.

“You know all of that sounds a lot like you, actually,” Tim pointed out, shrugging with a completely unapologetic smile.

Damian shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Does not.”

Jason elbowed Dick, who had been quietly sipping his drink with a growing smirk. “Ten bucks says they get partnered on some school project and fall in love by spring.”

"You're on," Dick grinned.

Damian’s entire expression darkened.

“I will set you three on fire,” he said, dead serious.

Unfortunately for Damian, the first part of Jason’s prediction came true.

It was Monday morning, second period, and the classroom still buzzed with low chatter and the scraping of chairs as students trickled in and settled down. You had just taken your seat, already flipping open your notebook, when the teacher stepped to the front of the room, her expression far too cheerful for a Monday morning. That alone should’ve been your first warning.

“As you all know we have an upcoming literary analysis project,” she began, scanning the room like she was delivering good news and not the academic equivalent of a grenade, “and I’ve decided to personally pair you all up to ensure balanced collaboration.”

Around the room, groans erupted. A few students exchanged panicked looks or hopeful glances toward their friends. You, however, didn’t care much, prepared to do all the work to ensure the best grade. That was until—

“Finally, Y/n and Damian.”

You blinked once. The words taking a moment to fully register.

From a few seats over, Damian let out a noise that sounded almost like a choking cough.

The teacher—either oblivious to the knife-sharp tension that immediately spiked between your desks or possibly very aware—beamed. “I trust the two top students in our class will produce something exceptional.”

Damian looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. 

You offered your teacher a faux pleasant smile, tilting your head. “Looking forward to the challenge.” And then you turned to Damian. “Try not to fall behind.”

The look Damian shot you could’ve curdled milk. He scoffed but didn’t rise to the bait—not verbally, at least. His glare was sharp enough to count as a response on its own as he stood, gathered his things, and reluctantly moved his desk beside yours like he was being sentenced to death.

His books hit the surface of your shared desk with a muffled thud, and he sank into his seat like it physically pained him to be there, sitting stiffly beside you and crossing his arms almost as if he was pouting.

You didn’t so much as twitch. You merely turned toward him with a sickeningly sweet smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Shall we begin?” you asked. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to sulk and pout this entire project.”

“I don’t sulk,” he muttered darkly.

“Sure you don’t.” You agreed sarcastically, before scoffing. “You’re the epitome of brooding.”

He glared at you like he was contemplating homicide—but wisely chose not to respond. Instead, he pulled out his notebook and clicked his pen with more force than strictly necessary.

Unbothered, you flipped open your own notebook, already prepared. “The prompt says we’re to write a five-page analytical paper on a theme of our choice from any of the assigned novels this semester. Preferably one with—” you glanced down at the rubric, “—‘literary merit.’”

Damian raised a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Which rules out anything you picked, I assume.”

You rolled your eyes. “God forbid we write something that isn’t dripping in post-war existentialism and masculine angst.”

“I vote Frankenstein,” you continued, undeterred. “Morality, monstrosity, creation and consequence—it’s rich. And you can wax poetry about man’s hubris to your heart’s content.”

Damian ignored the jab and frowned thoughtfully. “Overdone. Everyone will be choosing to write about Frankenstein. It’s predictable.”

You turned toward him, brows lifting. “Predictable is safe. Safe is how we get full marks. Unless you want to take a creative risk and tank your precious GPA.”

Damian didn’t even flinch. “The greater the risk, the greater the reward.”

You snorted. “You once titled your essay ‘The Idiocy of Hamlet’s Entire Bloodline.’ I’m still amazed you didn’t fail on principle.”

He shrugged, entirely unrepentant. “And I stand by that.”

You sighed, resisting the overwhelming urge to pinch the bridge of your nose. “Fine,” you muttered. “What do you suggest, then?”

He drummed his fingers against the desk thoughtfully, gaze sweeping over the list of literature they’d covered that year. Once. Twice.  Then, without looking at you, he spoke.

“The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

You blinked. “Wilde?”

“Morality. Duality. Self-destruction,” he said smoothly. “All the themes you wanted in Frankenstein, only with better prose and far more interesting characters.”

You hesitated—just for a second. Then you gave a small nod. “…Not a terrible idea.”

He turned toward you slowly, eyes narrowing as though unsure he’d heard you right. “Was that an agreement?”

You smirked. “Statistically, even you were bound to say something useful eventually.”

Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes. “How original.”

Despite the initial tension, working together became… surprisingly seamless.

Over the next few weeks, you found yourselves forced into truce—and then, somehow, into something almost akin to a friendship. The first week was hell, of course. You argued over structure, disagreed on thesis points, and debated which citations to use  like the fate of Gotham depended on it. But somehow—between your scribbled annotations and his painfully neat footnotes—you found a rhythm. There were still jabs and snide comments, of course. You wouldn’t have expected anything less. But there were also late afternoons at the library, debates that turned into almost companionable, and quiet moments where you realized he wasn’t as insufferable as you first thought.

You were used to handling things alone. Your mother’s world was ruthless, and you’d learned early to hold your own. Trust was a currency, and most people were too quick to squander it. But Damian… he didn’t put you on a pedestal, didn’t flatter you or fawn over your name like the way other children of Gotham’s elite often did, eager to secure favour or avoid offence. He didn’t nod along just to stay in your good graces. If anything, he seemed allergic to the idea of appeasing you. 

Instead of charming you—he challenged you. Constantly.

As much as it pained you to admit it… your mother had been right. Being challenged was good for you.

Damian didn’t make things easier. Instead, he made you better—made you grow.

Soon, you found yourselves almost reluctant to call it a night. You began to look forward to your time together—your new routine. You always ended up at the same back-corner table in the library, shoulder to shoulder, your shared workspace a pile of chaos filed with overlapping notebooks, highlighters, and the book itself.

Your notebooks a mess of underlined passages, marginalia, and colour-coded tabs. Damian’s handwriting was immaculate and neatly written cursive. While yours was sharper, more angular—more chaotic, if you were honest—but it didn’t matter. Your minds clicked in ways your hands didn’t need to.

“Here,” you murmured, nudging his notebook. “You keep saying Dorian’s downfall was vanity, but I think it’s more about his willful ignorance. He chooses not to see the damage he causes. It’s not just narcissism—it’s self-preservation.”

Damian’s gaze shifted to the passage you pointed at, brows furrowing. He didn’t answer immediately.

“You’re saying he wasn’t blinded by ego,” he said slowly. “He blinded himself. On purpose.”

You nodded. “He wanted to live without consequence. The portrait just made it possible.”

He leaned back slightly, folding his arms as he mulled it over. His jaw was tight with thought, but when his eyes lifted to meet yours, something was different. There was no smugness, no bite, no thinly veiled disdain. He had genuinely considered your point of view and there was even a bit of respect.

“I hadn’t considered that,” he said finally. “That’s not bad.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Was that a compliment?”

He scoffed and turned back to his notebook, the moment gone as quickly as it had come. “Don’t get used to it.”

But you were already smiling to yourself.

And strangely—unexpectedly—you almost found yourself disappointed when the project finally came to an end.

The perfect scores had been inevitable.

With minds like yours and Damian’s, there was never going to be another outcome. The thesis had been sharp, the analysis layered and airtight, the presentation polished to the point of you could probably recite it in your sleep. When your teacher returned the papers—each one marked with glowing remarks and a rare, handwritten “Flawless work”—you barely reacted. Neither did Damian. There was no need for celebration when you both expected nothing less.

And with the project behind you, you assumed things would go back to normal. Cold glances. Sharp remarks. Mutual irritation and academic rivalry. After all, that was what you were good at—competition. Not… whatever the past few weeks had been.

You were just zipping up your bag at the end of the day, earbuds half in as you walked out of the class when a group of boys from your class approached you. You’d never personally interacted with them, but they were always loud a disruptive.

“Well, if it isn’t Gotham’s golden girl,” one of them drawled. “Did mommy buy that perfect score for you too?”

You straightened slowly, expression unreadable, already preparing a verbal lashing when another boy added, “Bet she made Wayne do all the work,” he said with a snort. “There’s no way she’s that smart. I bet Wayne was ready to hit his head against the wall working with her.”

The words weren’t new—God, no. You’d heard them all before. The digs, the undercutting, the suggestion that your success wasn’t really yours. Different faces, different schools, always the same venom. It never used to sting. But today… for some reason it did. 

Maybe it was because, for once, the accusation didn’t even come close to the truth. Maybe because—despite everything—you were genuinely proud of the work you and Damian had done. It wasn’t just about the perfect grade. Somewhere along the way, the project had stopped being a competition and started becoming something else entirely. Something collaborative.

You’d found yourself enjoying the process. The way your mind and his clashed and overlapped. The way your perspectives differed—and how those differences pushed you both further. And for once, the outcome wasn’t the reward. The understanding was. You felt like you understood Damian better and had enjoyed the time you two had spent together.

Everything you and Damian had built—every late night, every debate, every carefully chosen word in your paper—they reduced it to manipulation. To nepotism. To the idea that you weren’t enough.

Then much to your horror, the last person you expected to see had just approached. And your body tensed instinctively. The project was over. You and Damian had been companionable these last few weeks, maybe even—if you squinted—friendly. But now? You didn’t know. Would he say something? Join in?

Instead, his emerald green eyes narrowed—on them, not you.

“I suggest you walk away,” he said coldly, voice like cut glass.

You blinked, startled, watching as he came to stand beside you, arms crossing neatly over his chest.

One of the boys laughed, nervously. “Oh come on, Wayne. We all know you did all the work, the only reason she’s here is ‘cause Mommy made a generous donation to the school.”

Damian didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. “As did my father. And one call to him, and the lot of you will be expelled before the end of the day.”

And then—before you could even register it—one of them said something utterly vile about you. The implications of it made your stomach twist. The air went still filling with tension.

Damian’s fist flew before you could even blink.

It connected with a sickening crack against the boy’s jaw, dropping him like a rock. The boy lay groaning on the tile, already being dragged away by his friends, who looked more terrified than smug now, stumbling over themselves as they disappeared down the corridor without another word. Cowards, all of them. 

You stood frozen for a beat, blinking.

Damian’s shoulders were squared, his breathing steady. He didn’t even glance at you. He just flexed his hand once and muttered, “Tt. Idiots.”

You stared at him, eyes wide. “You punched him.”

“He deserved it.”

You bit your lip, your gaze flicking back to where he was standing stoically and glaring at the space where the group had been standing. Then—impulsively, heart hammering in your chest—you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “…Thank you.”

Damian froze.

His entire body went stiff, posture locked like he’d just been turned into a statue. A deep flush bloomed across his cheeks, colouring them a violent crimson as his mouth parted slightly in shock. For once, he had nothing to say.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “…You’re welcome.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. “Do you want to grab a milkshake?” you asked, trying to sound casual—like you hadn’t just kissed Gotham’s most emotionally constipated teenager. “We can study for finals too.”

He blinked once. Twice.

Then, in the stiffest, most painfully formal voice imaginable, he replied,

“Yes. That… would be acceptable.”

Grinning now, you slung your bag over your shoulder and started walking, tossing him a glance over your shoulder. Damian trailed behind you silently begging whatever gods existed to will the red dusting his cheeks to fade.

Somewhere along the line he realized his brothers had been right. He didn’t dislike you. Not even a little.

In fact, it was probably the opposite.

And he was already halfway through making Jason’s second prediction come true.

[sparrow-and-seed-scrawls]

“How many agents have you trained?” The former student asked from the opposite side of the office, hand curved around the hilt of a rather large knife. It shone in the flickering fluorescents, too real-looking to be a stage prop.

Dr. Thatcher had taught acting for decades. He’d bought this building on this side of New York twenty-something-odd years ago after leaving his position at a university several hundred miles away. He needed something fresh, something new. It was the curse of being driven, he liked to think. When things slowed down, it was time to try something new.

He’d used the little left in his bank account to buy books and tools, then advertising. Affordable acting classes from a professional (he’d acted in a few off-broadway shows before his teaching days). He’d grown popular quickly, so quickly it surprised him.

Things hadn’t slowed down for years. Twenty-something-odd years. Years filled with monologues and studies and new batches of students bright-eyed and eager to make a mark in the world of show business.

He’d moved frequently, different cities with different people. He grew bored of the same place, and everywhere he went seemed to demand his services. He never had a small class, never had less than forty students a year.

Students that, once graduated, he was never able to find again. Not on social media, the news, the internet (which he did know how to use, thank you very much). Strange, but New York was huge. He came up with thousands of excuses to ease his wonderings.

Right now, though, with his former student in front of him with a knife, those excuses were growing increasingly difficult to justify.

“Graham, I’m—”

The student stepped closer, knife still raised. His blond hair was pulled into a neat knot at his neck, his clothes pressed. Strange for what seemed to be a robbery.

“Answer my question, Dr. Thatcher. Or are you even a doctor? Maybe your whole identity is a front, too.”

Dr. Thatcher raised his eyebrows, but kept his hands raised. It was off-putting, but not yet scary. He cleared his throat. “Graham, truly, I have no idea what you’re asking. Perhaps we can sit down and discuss…?”

“No. You can tell me, right here. How many agents have you trained?”

“I don’t train acting agents.” He said it carefully, watching the young man’s face.

“Secret agents,” he grit out.

A moment passed. The young man must have seen the confusion on Dr. Thatcher’s face, because he continued:

“Secret agents for the CIA. Hundreds of your students are employed with them. Don’t think you can pretend your way out of this one.”

Dr. Thatcher laughed, then. Out loud. Which was probably the wrong thing to do, but it was absolutely ridiculous! He, a sixty-one-year-old man who lived in a plain flat with only his cat, training—he couldn’t even finish the thought!

Graham lowered the knife, but didn’t put it away. “Why are you laughing? What scheme do you have planned, because whatever it is, put an end to it.”

“I—” Dr. Thatcher struggled to form words around his laughter, “—agents?! for the CIA? I can only imagine!”

“You… you’re not serious, are you?”

Dr. Thatcher wiped the tears from his eyes. “I have absolutely no inkling of what you’re talking about.”

“The agents of 26104. The ones you trained in espionage?”

He shook his head.

Graham cursed and ran a hand down his face. “I have the records. I have photo evidence of it all!” He sheathed his knife in an impressive twist of the wrist and tossed a file on the desk. Several photos slid from the manilla.

“Yes! Oh, I remember Elsie. And Patrick! A wonderful comedian.” The warmth of nostalgia spread through his chest. These were his students, ones he hadn’t seen in years, ones he’d sent off with so much enthusiasm! How he’d longed to know where they’d ended up, how they were doing.

“They’ve done well?” He looked back to Graham finally.

“If you count ‘well’ as brainwashed into working for a dangerous operation with the CIA, then yes. They’ve done ‘well’.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, and his face matched. “You’ve tried to run from it—oh, it took years for me to track you down after I escaped the CIA. But we’re past that. Tell me who your contact is.”

“I have no contacts. I’m an acting professor!”

This was not what Dr. Thatcher had expected or hoped for when he’d found Graham waiting in his office. A catch-up, perhaps, or help with a last-minute monologue.

——

Yeah so uhhhh I didn’t finish this one ☝️ but ☝️ perhaps I will later

You teach several highly recommended acting classes, however, to your dismay, you never seem to see any of your students again. Until today, when you find one of your best pupils in your office. With weapon in hand, they coldly ask you "How many agents have you trained?"

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 15

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes, alcohol. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 17 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

"In two weeks, I'll be away on training camp. For a week."

You and Sukuna sit on the couch after a long day, both in sweatpants and matching Tigers hoodies, cuddled up in front of the TV, where a cooking show plays, when he announces the news. You turn your head to look at his tattooed face, pouting a bit when you reply,

"A whole week? And I guess you won't come home in the evenings?"

Sukuna grins at you, that boyish playful grin that makes him look too damn attractive,

"Aww, are you gonna miss me?"

You sigh and stretch, putting your legs in his lap. And Sukuna immediately grabs one of your socked feet and gives you a foot massage, making you hum before you tell him with a mischievous grin,

"Maybe a little. I'll miss your cooking skills..."

"Only my cooking skills?"

"Yeah, and it will be a bit of an inconvenience that I'll have to carry my books to class all by myself."

You smile and make a show of inspecting your fingernails boredly before you lift your head to look into Sukuna's eyes again and ask,

"What about you? Are you gonna miss me, baby?"

The grin on Sukuna's face is downright evil by now, and his eyes sparkle with devilish amusement. He huffs and shrugs cooly,

"I don't know. Maybe a tiny little bit. I might be the slightest bit bored without your unqualified statements when I watch hockey vids."

You snort and try to kick him with your socked feet, but Sukuna just grabs them tighter with his large hands and gives them a squeeze while he raises an amused eyebrow at you, asking with a smug smirk,

"What, princess?"

You glare playfully at him but get distracted by how beautiful Sukuna looks with his handsome face and all the tattoos, those long black lashes framing his maroon eyes. Eyes that are filled with far too much smugness. You roll your eyes at him and cross your arms in front of your chest.

"I love you, asshole."

Sukuna's smirk grows even bigger.

"I love you too, brat."

The two of you stare into each other's eyes for a long moment, neither wanting to look away first and then both of you burst out laughing at the same time. Sukuna cocks his head, grinning at you,

"Come here, give me a kiss, princess."

He makes a kissy face that makes you laugh even louder before you pull your feet out of his hands and crawl over to him, smiling when you feel Sukuna's strong arms immediately wrap around you and pull you in his lap, right before your lips find his in a sweet kiss.

You never thought being apart from Sukuna for a week would be so hard.

Considering how this whole thing between the two of you started with the whole fuckbuddies thing, it should be absolutely easy peasy to spend a few days apart.

But what you learn in those seven days is that a week can be very long when you miss your boyfriend.

It makes you realize how used you have become to spend almost all day with Sukuna. You even sleep in his bed, or he in yours every night. You have breakfast together and walk to class together, and meet for lunchtime and study dates in the library, and you drop by his practice all the time now, and have dinner at his place and have overly competitive Mario Kart matches with Yuuji, and watch hockey videos in bed until you fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms.

Now you feel like a piece of your soul is missing when you walk to class on your own, and lunch isn't the same without making fun of Sukuna's daily chicken and rice and listening to him shit-talking about a rival team.

The weirdest things are the nights, though. It's kind of embarrassing how fast you got used to feeling Sukuna's tall, buff body behind you, and somehow, you feel cold in your bed now even though your room isn't cold at all.

The nightly phone calls with Sukuna help a little, and either he is also unwilling to hang up, or he knows you well enough to know you can fall asleep more easily when you hear his soothing low voice talk to you, so he always stays on the phone with you until you have drifted off to sleep.

Of course, he teases you endlessly about how loud you snore or how he saw you drooling onto the pillow, but he always murmurs the sweetest little nothings to you late at night, too tired to play it cool or wear a mask. So you could easily tease him too about being such a huge simp for you, but you stay nice and just smile and listen to his low murmurs.

Those nights on the phone aren't able to replace Sukuna's physical presence in your bed, though, so you seem to be in a constant state of withdrawal, which makes you restless and grumpy.

So when the week has finally passed, and you hear the long-awaited loud knock on your door, you are off the couch in an instant. You yank open the door impatiently, smiling when you see Sukuna's tall figure with his sports bag slung casually over his broad shoulder and that attractive boyish smirk on his tattooed face that always makes your knees weak.

"Hey, princess. I'm home."

His low voice sounds smooth and warm, and you practically fling yourself at him, wrapping your arms around Sukuna's tall, muscular body, hugging him tightly as you tilt your head to smile up at him,

"Welcome home, champion."

Sukuna laughs, one strong arm immediately wrapping around your waist where it seems to naturally belong. His lips brush over your forehead, murmuring the exact words you were just thinking,

"Damn, I didn't know a week could be that long."

But now he is finally back home, standing in front of you, tall and broad, looking so good in his soft white hoodie with the team logo embroidered on the front.

Before you can reply, Sukuna drops his heavy sports bag and wraps both of his strong arms around you, pulling you against him and making you gasp when his lips instantly claim yours in a hungry kiss.

Your surprised gasp turns into a happy sigh as you practically melt against your boyfriend's muscular body, hugging him tightly and letting him pull you on your tiptoes so he can deepen the kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth and kissing you with those sexy deep French kisses that drive you a little crazy each time.

You are both breathing heavily when you finally part, hazy eyes looking into each other for a long moment before Sukuna starts to grin again, and you chuckle softly while your thumbs brush over the short hair of his undercut.

"You played so well, baby. I'm so proud of you."

You're referring to the game Sukuna's team played at the end of the training camp. You saw most of it thanks to Yuuji, who was sitting on the bench with a sprained ankle and face-timed you to show you his brother scoring goal after goal. Sukuna even skated over to grab his brother's phone to blow you a kiss and dedicate the victory to you.

Sukuna's large hands sprawl over your waist as he laughs and raises a cocky eyebrow at you, but you can see that he is basking in your praise.

"I would have scored even more goals if you were in the arena. I would have destroyed those losers completely if my girl was there cheering me on in the stands."

You laugh too and shake your head, snuggling against Sukuna, resting your cheek against his chest and inhaling his scent, the sexy cologne he always wears, his cherry-scented hairspray, and faint traces of cigarette smoke, meaning he managed to sneak away from his coach to smoke in secret despite the constant lectures about how athletes shouldn't smoke.

"Oh, I think you already ruined their chances for the championship enough. You didn't really need me there."

Sukuna huffs and a long tattooed finger touches your chin and makes you lift your head. Those beautiful maroon eyes gaze deeply into yours, and his lips lift in that attractive lopsided smirk.

"And that's where you are wrong. I always need you by my side."

Sukuna's voice is velvety and low, with that teasing, flirty tone you love so much. That tone of voice that always reminds you of nights spent tangled in soft sheets, your sweaty bodies moving against each other while soft moans and breathy love confessions fill your bedroom.

And you know that Sukuna means those words, no matter how teasing he sounds. You can see it in how soft his eyes are when he looks at you right now. And you know your eyes must give away how smitten you are with him, too.

Your hands come to rest on Sukuna's broad chest, gently brushing your fingers over the soft cotton of his white hoodie, feeling the swell of his buff pecs and his strong heartbeat even through the thick fabric of the warm sweater.

"Then I'll try to sneak onto the team bus next time."

Sukuna chuckles and captures your lips in another slow and deep kiss. He's so tender with you that it makes your heart throb.

It's one of those secret, soft moments that most people don't expect a rough guy like Sukuna to be capable of. He is feared by his opponents. Gets called The King of Curses because he is like a curse coming over rival teams, making their most important players drop like flies, spending weeks on the bench with various injuries caused by your boyfriend. Even his own teammates are scared of him.

But when it comes to you, Sukuna is always sweet.

And you are sweet to him, too.

Your hands slip under Sukuna's soft white hoodie and find his smooth, warm skin and firm muscles, caressing his abs and pecs while you kiss him sweetly, showing him how happy you are to have him back.

You're both breathing heavily when Sukuna whispers against your lips,

"I missed you, princess."

Right at the same moment as you murmur,

"I missed you, baby."

Sukuna laughs softly, and then he smiles. That dazzling, beautiful smile he only reserves for you.

"I got something for you."

He leans down to unzip the side pocket of his sports bag, and when he straightens up again, there's a small gift package sitting in the palm of his calloused hand. You blink at Sukuna's hand and the gift and then look at him with suspiciously moist eyes,

"Oh... Kuna. You... you didn't have to buy me something..."

He smiles at you, shrugging seemingly casually, but you can see the tips of his ears turn slightly pink, and it's one of the most endearing things you ever saw. Sukuna watches as you take the gift package and slowly unwrap it, murmuring in his low voice,

"When we went to dinner, we walked past a shop, and I saw it in the window, and thought of you. Had to get back the next day to get it for you."

The wrapping paper opens and reveals a rectangular box. You lift the lid under Sukuna's watchful gaze and gasp softly when you see a delicate gold necklace with a pretty charm in the shape of a pair of hockey skates adorned with a small diamond that sparkles prettily in the light.

You clap a hand over your mouth, blinking up at Sukuna, and this time, you can't hide the tears in your eyes anymore. You reach up to wipe them away at the same moment as Sukuna cups your cheek with his large hand to brush his thumb over a stray tear running down your left cheek. You smile up at Sukuna, voice soft,

"That's so pretty. Thank you so much, baby."

Sukuna laughs softly, sounding pleased, when he tells you,

"And you haven't even seen all of it yet. Turn it around."

You bite your lip as you carefully take the small ice skates pendant and turn it around. Your smile grows even bigger when you see the small engraving on the back of the charm. Sukuna, it says in a filigree font next to a small heart.

Your pulse races. Sukuna got you a necklace with his name on it. It's so intimate somehow and possessive as if he is staking his claim, and it makes butterflies flutter wildly in your stomach. You like the thought of Sukuna wanting to mark you as his.

"I love it!"

You beam up at Sukuna, smiling brightly, and Sukuna's cat-like gaze travels slowly over you, lips lifted in a proud smile.

"Let me put it on you."

He makes a circular gesture with his long, tattooed fingers, and you nod and turn around right when Sukuna adds, in a low, seductive voice,

"Take your sweater off first. I wanna see how the necklace looks against your skin."

Your heart is beating wildly as you take off your sweater and let it drop to the floor, leaving you in your bra, standing with your back to Sukuna, feeling your breath quicken as he steps closer, and you can feel his tall body brush lightly against your skin. His large fingers are surprisingly skilled in fastening the delicate gold chain around your neck. His breath is warm on your shoulder as he leans down to whisper to you,

"I love you."

The words are followed by a tender kiss getting pressed onto your shoulder. And your eyelashes flutter, your whole body feeling so warm. Butterflies flutter not only in your stomach but also in your pussy when Sukuna trails more teasing kisses over your shoulder and neck.

He makes you so weak, makes you tremble in his strong arms. Makes you yearn for him.

Sukuna's warm hands come to rest on your waist, long, tattooed fingers sprawling possessively over your skin, fingertips dipping into the waistband of your sweatpants teasingly.

Your voice sounds shaky when you reply,

"I love you too. And I love having your name on me all the time now."

You are answered by a low growl and a tightening of those strong hands on your waist.

"Fuck, do you know how crazy it drives me when you say stuff like that?"

You can feel Sukuna smile against your naked shoulder, and you turn around in his arms, hugging him again, moaning softly when your half-exposed breasts press against his soft hoodie.

There's a hunger in Sukuna's eyes when your gaze meets his, and before you know it, you get scooped up into your boyfriend's strong arms.

"Let's celebrate my goals properly. I missed my victory fuck. How am I supposed to ever score again under these conditions?"

You roll your eyes and grin playfully at Sukuna while letting your fingers play with his undercut,

"In that case, I guess I have to take one for the team, huh?"

You both laugh, but the laughter soon gets replaced by heavy breathing and soft groans while you kiss and undress each other impatiently and tumble down onto your bed.

You whimper needily when Sukuna lets his hard cock glide through your wet pussy lips, his swollen tip caressing your clit while he kisses you deeply. And then he pushes inside you for the first time after a week apart, claiming you again and moaning your name softly when he is fully buried in your warm pussy.

He takes his sweet time with you, fucking you slow and deep as if he needs to cherish every second of it after being apart from you the whole week. It's not so much a victory fuck, as he claimed, but slow lovemaking instead.

Sukuna is pressing you down into the soft sheets with his tall, athletic body, making you mewl with every slow roll of his hips. The necklace he gifted to you is the only thing you are wearing, the small charm resting between your breasts, gliding over your skin with every thrust of Sukuna's cock.

You hug Sukuna tightly while his warm mouth is on your neck, kissing and sucking on your sensitive skin, making you moan his name even louder than his cock alone already does.

You feel so taken care of like this when Sukuna is covering your whole body with his broad figure. All big and strong and muscular on top of you, pressing you down, making sure you go nowhere and stay right where he wants you.

Sukuna's skin is so warm against yours, his naked body deliciously heavy on top of you, moving slowly but powerfully against you. He is everything you see and feel. You wrap your legs tightly around his waist, needing more of him, babbling incoherently, begging him to take you, to fuck you, to love you as thoroughly as he can.

Your hands are wandering aimlessly over Sukuna's broad back, digging your nails into his beefy muscles, caressing his warm tattooed skin, tracing all the scars from various hockey injuries before they finally come to rest on his flexed biceps, marveling at how good those strong arms feel under your hands.

Sukuna's cock is so deep in you, long and thick, making you almost delirious with how full and good he makes you feel. You can't help but whimper, and Sukuna answers you with a low, sexy moan before his lips capture yours in a hungry but loving kiss.

You both get lost in your sweet lovemaking. Sukuna's low groans make your head spin, and his velvety voice sounds thick with desire when he murmurs against your neck,

"Fuck yeah, my beautiful girl. Feels so right to fuck you again. Your pretty pussy missed me, too, huh? So wet and warm for me."

You sob his name shakily, feeling your pussy tightening around Sukuna's cock, while he slowly fucks you into the mattress.

"I missed you so much, Kuna. Need you, baby."

"Fuck... I missed you too, princess."

Sukuna grabs your hands, captures them tightly in his much larger hands, and brings them up beside your head, fixing them there by interlacing his fingers with yours. A gesture so tender for a rough boy like him that it makes you sob loudly, overcome by how much you love him. It makes you clench around him and arch up against his heavy body, a breathless moan of his name falling from your lips.

Your legs are wrapped tightly around Sukuna's narrow hips, clinging to him, pulling him even closer, needing him so bad. The slight adjustment of positions makes him rest more of his weight on you, and it feels perfect. You are moaning his name anytime Sukuna lifts his hips ever so slightly and then rolls them against yours again, fucking you with those slow, gentle thrusts that feel so intimate.

He is so close to you, as close as possible, filling you so good, loving you so good that it makes you feel drunk. Drunk on his dick, drunk on his love. His thick mushroom head is kissing your sweet spot with every move, fucking you closer and closer to a toe-curling orgasm that you can already feel building up in your core.

"S... Sukuna...."

You sound desperate when you sob his name, your hands clutching Sukuna's tightly, your fingernails digging into the back of his large hands, surely leaving their crescent moon-shaped marks on his skin. And Sukuna's lips are on your neck, surprisingly tender and sweet. He groans in your ear, sounding almost like a purr, and whispers to you,

"Yeah, I know, angel, I know. Feels so fucking good."

Sukuna's large hands tighten around yours as he stills on top of you, ramming his thick cock as deep as possible into you.

And you watch him with love-drunk eyes. Watch his beautiful tattooed face while he cums. Your heart swells at the love and trust Sukuna has for you to let you see him like this. To let you see him give you his all. His cheeks are flushed slightly with arousal, his maroon eyes heavy-lidded with lust, closing fully as his orgasm washes over him, his lips parted as those sexy low moans spill from them.

Sukuna's hips twitch against you as he cums. And you press yourself against him, taking his cock even deeper, wanting all he has to give you. You mewl his name brokenly as you drown in the heavenly, warm waves of your own orgasm.

You tremble under Sukuna's heavy body, your pussy spasming around his cock, while Sukuna rocks slowly against you until he has spilled his full load in your pussy.

He finally lets out a long breath and opens his eyes again, gazing down at you with unveiled affection, smirking that sexy, boyish smirk at you while he is still inside you, making more butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Your hands slip out of Sukuna's grasp, and you hug him again, trailing your fingers slowly up and down his muscular back, caressing his tattooed skin tenderly. And Sukuna's lips wander over your neck, leaving a trail of kisses before he slumps on top of you with a contented sigh.

His head is resting on your naked breasts, his breathing in sync with yours. You can't stop smiling, feeling elated after the sex, and because you have your boyfriend back in your arms. Everything feels as it should again. You reach up to run a hand slowly through Sukuna's soft pink hair, and he hums happily. His voice has that sexy, sleepy drawl when he murmurs against your skin,

"I hate training camp. A week away from you is far too long. Honestly, the whole week, I just thought, let me be back in bed with my girl and watch videos on my phone with her and have my back scratched and my hair petted. I am growing so fucking soft."

You chuckle and let your nails slowly run up and down Sukuna's broad back,

"Is that a bad thing?"

You can feel Sukuna's grin against your skin when he answers,

"Nah, I wouldn't change it for the world."

Guys, what can I say? I am horribly in love with him AAHHH 😭💗 Writing this chapter made me so happy. It's SO SOFT. Can you imagine big, bad Sukuna acting all tough and being an overly ambitious asshole towards his teammates all day during training camp, but then lying in his bed at night simping for us and almost going crazy because he misses us? That boy is down bad for us, and it makes my life complete uwu.

I hope you liked the update! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!

As always, thank you so much for still reading this story, which became so much longer than I thought. I am so happy to be on this journey with y'all! 💗

[sukudoll]

wc ;; ~1.8k | note ;; first post on the new acc, not proof read | warnings/tags: kinda ooc, porn with some (?) plot, spit kink, rough sex, very mild dub con (nanami is rather forceful but reader is okay with it), public teasing, degrading, etc.

kento is a patient man⁠—there's no doubting that. he'll wait on you for hours while in the clothing shops you like, all filled with pretty, frilly things that catch your eye. he has no issue with it either. in fact, it wasn't even boring for him either because he gets to watch your eyes light up at every cute thing you find. his patience didn't wear in really any aspect of his life. even when you'd tease him in bed, the patience didn't wear.

"do you want my panties off?" you'd ask. he'd swallow subtly and nod, eyes shifting from yours down to your fingers teasing the stretchy band of your panties. "hmm..." you'd hum, trying to keep the subtle smirk off your face, "i think you should ask nicely, ken." your eyes practically screamed "fuck me".

he'd chuckle lowly and say, "tsk, tsk, tsk. my little wife is a tease, is she?" the smirk couldn't keep itself off your face for long because of his words. you'd slide your fingers under your panties just a little more, teasing him a bit. "please, will you take off your panties, my love?" he'd ask, patient as ever. and, of course, you'd give in.

but tonight was different. you'd been teasing him literally all day. a dinner with gojo and his wife was anticipated to go smoothly, he thought the night before. but before dinner even came around, you'd been a little tease. the only issue is that he wanted to keep his life-long streak of never being late to things, even if gojo was destined to be late per usual.

"ken, baby?" you'd called, coming into the living room as you were trying to get ready quick. he turned to look at you only to witness a sight that had him secretly trying to get his boner down for ten minutes after you retreated to the bedroom. only clad in a tank top, a pair of panties, and a pair of plain socks while having your head tilted slightly as you put in an earring.

"i⁠—yes, my love?" he said, trying to ignore the feeling of his pants sudden tightness. "have you seen the new pair of heels i got? they aren't in the closet," you explained. it had been on purpose that you were showing off so much skin, and he knew it, but he ultimately decided to not play into it right then. "er... no. maybe check in top of the closet, if you haven't already." you let out a soft hum and nodded, turning around, and smiling to yourself as you walk back to the bedroom.

the night went on like this; you teasing constantly and him not being able to do anything about it for... well, various coincidental reasons. at the restaurant, you and nanami sat next to each other as you read the menu while waiting for gojo and his wife to show up. "ooo. they have vanilla mousse," you commented, eyes fixated on the menu. under the table, you rubbed your heel against his shin, acting completely oblivious. "honey, i love you, but i really don't wanna have a boner in front of-"

"the strongest has ariiiiiived!" gojo's overly-enthusiastic voice cut nanami off, making him sigh. "gojo," he addressed, giving a respectful nod at gojo's wife. "late per usual, hm?" your well-dressed husband said to the white-haired man. gojo sat down on the other side of the table, chuckled, and leaned back in the booth rather casually in spite of the high-class environment, "old habits die hard."

the night went on and your touchiness increased slowly but surely. a hand on his thigh that was was too close to his cock for comfort, you moving it off before he can give you a scolding look, 'unconsciously' biting your lip. by dessert, he was fully tenting his pants, leg bouncing unusually. "could i get the vanilla mousse?" you asked the waiter as they came around, asking about dessert. the waiter enthusiastically smiled and tucked their pen into their apron pocket. "coming right out."

the desserts arrived after a bit. nanami got a slice of cheesecake, you got vanilla mousse, and you couldn't even remember what the other two had gotten. the point of the mousse was more for the spoon, another way you'd practically torture nanami before the night ended.

with a small spoonful of the sugary treat, you slid the spoon into your mouth, tongue sliding over the cool metal as you looked at nanami. his jaw tightened and that's exactly how you knew you were in for it. "ken, is your cake good?" you asked before taking another spoonful into your mouth, repeating the previous action.

"it is," he said, his voice strained, "but i'm gonna get us a to-go box. i've found myself getting tired earlier than expected it seems." quickly saying goodbye to gojo and his consort, you and your husband head out.

the car ride home was nerve-racking, and the air was thick with anticipation. you'd never seen this side of nanami. he was clearly restraining himself; muscles tense, fist clenched, not looking at you. he hadn't said anything the entire ride⁠—even when he opened the door and buckled you in⁠—until the last few minutes.

"your behavior tonight was unacceptable. i'm not a cruel man, but unfortunately this requires a consequence. as soon as you're inside, i want you on the couch, dress off⁠—keep your heels and panties on, ass up. do you understand?"

and that brings us to now.

his hips slap against your ass nastily, dress pants hanging low on his waist. your hair is disheveled and wrapped around his fist. "i cannot believe you. never in my life have you acted so out of order. teased me all day⁠—fuck⁠—and thought you could get away with it? huh? no, no. i know my wife, baby," he said gruffly, grunting between words.

you whine into the fabric of the couch, biting on your knuckle to stifle your moans that you almost choke on. his cock is so girthy and long, heavy balls slapping against your cunt. your back arches so much from the pleasure that your upper body is pressed firmly against the cushion. kento's free hand slaps your ass. hard. your teeth sink further into your knuckle, hole clenching around him like a vice.

"and guess what? you aren't gonna cum either, not for awhile tonight, baby. teasing brats don't get to cum 'til they've learned their lesson," he pants.

feeling your walls beginning to squeeze and throb around him, despite desperately wanting to cum inside your warm cunt, he pulls out before you can finish. looking down at your hole when he pulls out, he sees it clench around nothing. "needy little cunt. turn around, and look at me."

you hesitate and he pulls your hair, forcing you to turn your head and look back. "open your mouth." you do, of course, not hesitating this time. he leans forward and lets a glob of saliva drip into your waiting mouth. "swallow," he says lowly. watching you obey, a small smirk appears on his lips.

"now, you're going to really make up for all the teasing. you understand?" you nod wordlessly, waiting for his command. "turn your whole body. i want your face leveled with my cock, eyes only focused on it." the only reason this was particularly an issue is because kento's cock is so fucking big. you barely sucked him off because it was always too hard to fit more than a fourth of his length in your tight, warm mouth.

"'nami..." you whine.

"hush."

you turn your body so you're facing his cock, legs tucked under you while you're on the couch still. his thick, meaty length is right in front of your face, no more than an inch from the tip of your nose. the blonde, neatly trimmed hair on his cock trailed up to his bellybutton, something you found incredibly hot. you could smell yourself on his cock still, making you blush a bit. "yer gonna take it this time. you teased all day, so my cock is gonna be buried down that throat. we'll train it to take the whole thing, isn't that right, baby?"

you nodded nervously and swallowed.

"words. you have 'em, use 'em."

keeping your eyes locked on his thick shaft, you said, "y-yes, sir. i'm gonna take it."

he hums in response, taping your cheek with his hand as a signal to open up. opening up obediently, nanami wastes no time guiding his cock into your mouth, sliding past your lips without letting you warm up. your cheeks bulge, eyes immediately watering as he guides as much as you usually take into your throat. a low grown escapes his lips and he mutters a quiet, "jesus, fuck."

after letting his cock sit in your throat for just a minute, his eyes admiring your teary-eyed gaze. his eyebrows furrow as he starts thrusting, letting out a heavy breath. your throat tightens instinctively around his cock and suddenly his control snaps.

he can't help it at this point, he's fucking your throat with unleashed fervor. the saliva dripping from your mouth sticks to his cock and creates strings of spit every time he pulls back. "f-fuck, my pretty little wife reduced to nothing but a cockdrunk slut, hm." you adjust your leg so that the ball of your foot is pressed right against your pussy, allowing you to get some friction and some sort of pleasure.

you hum around his cock, but it comes out like a whine. his hand moves to your hair, pulling on it harder than he means. it doesn't take long for him to start forcing his entire length down your throat, toned hips meeting your nose. tears streamed down your face from your gag reflex, but it only turned him on more.

"gonna cum down yer throat, 'n' yer gonna swallow."

his heavy, full balls slap against your chin, his teeth gritting as he feels them draw up. "c-christ," he grunts, abs tensing. his orgasm comes as your throat suddenly tightens unexpectedly, sending him straight into orgasm. he holds your head against his pelvis, face smushed. hot, thick spurts of cum fill your mouth, and there's so much of it that it starts spilling out your mouth. he thrusts gently a few more times until you pat his thigh urgently, telling him to pull out. Nanami wanted to punish you of course, but not truly hurt you. he slowly pulled his cock out of your mouth, watching as you coughed up some of the seed he'd just left in your throat.

"are you alright?" he asks.

you nod, looking up at him with saliva and his seed smeared around your mouth, effectively marking you.

"good, cause we aren't done."

[snowstormarts]

Hi! Can you please write a headcanon for Teddy from date everything with a shy s/o b, like shy s/o doesn't have real friends except for Teddy the teddy bear as her imaginary friend. Please make it a platonic relationship as FRIENDSHIP PLEASE.

As someone who loves plushies (I have like 30+ in my room alone) the second I saw Teddy I knew I had to write for him someday, so now the time has come. Some Platonic Teddy & Reader headcanons coming right up! Sadly I never had an Imaginary friends so sorry if this isn't 100% correct ^^"

Likes & Reblogs are appreciated and my ask box is open for Requests, Promts & Asks

Best Friend Teddy the Teddy Bear

[Platonic!Teddy/Reader]

- You were always a shy kid, you preferred to be alone most of the time but there where times were even you wanted to socialize and make friends. So you would join in their games and talked with them, it all went well you guys had fun and would play during break times but they just never saw you as a friends. They didn't even invite you to their birthdays or grouped up with you, you were always left to the side until a teacher put you into a group who would smile and accept you but there also would always be one kid who was disappointment that you had to join their group

- It got to the point where even your parents noticed and decided to get you a teddy bear, you named him Teddy. He was and to this days still is your best friend who loves hot chocolate, tell stories/listen to story's [you would switch who tells a story that night] and was a master in the arts of fighting off monsters under your bed

- He would accompany you everywhere you went, be it to eat dinner ("don't forget to eat the veggies, I think mom said we can get extra if we do"), going outside on an adventure ("plan find a unicorn or dragon is ready to go my friend!") or even to school a few times. You kept him mostly in your bag during the school trips since you didn't want to get him dirty but after an incident with a boy in your class you decided Teddy was better safe at home ("schools too boring anyway, Teddy")

- Even as you got older you kept his stuffed self around, when you had trouble in school or your emotions were going crazy you would talk to him. He just got you and he was the perfect size to hold while you screamed into his fluffy belly or cried into his cuddly hold.

- During college you would have him sitting at your desk as encouragement, you could practically hear your imaginary friends cheers. After graduating and taking pictures you decided to get some more bows for him, even a few hats but the original bow looked the best still

- When you got the Dateviators you decided to awake Teddy first after Skylar had you run around the house. He was your first, real friend after all and you wanted to know more about him and once you awoke him he looked exactly as you thought he would look like. Big, soft, cuddly and with a smile that could warm even the coldest of hearts

- You two talked about your adventures when you were younger, playfully fighting about how he was the one who encouraged you to steal a cookie and how you were close to finding a Unicorn once, it's just that humans cant see them obviously. He also tells you how proud he is of you making it through college and starting to make new friends, even if it's only in your home right now [he will also tease you gently about crushed if you have any & if you have a partner he will give them the shovel talk, it's his duty as your bestie]

[kellykadesperate]

#13 from your prompt list

“You look better than I remembered.”

Aaron does not believe in reincarnation. He remembers his year eight RE teacher asking him what he’d want to come back as if he could and he said a dog. Everyone in the class laughed and he was called doggy for a whole week until he tripped a boy up and caused him to get a nose bleed. It stopped people taking the piss out of him. He remembers his teacher saying it all had something to do with karma. 

There’s good karma and bad karma and it all translates into what your next life will be like. 

He’s never thought about it as much as now. 

He must have been an absolute bastard in a previous life to have to watch what he is and not react at all.

For some absolutely ridiculous reason, Robert is at Moira’s and he’s in overalls. He’s steering a wheelbarrow of hay towards one of the barns and he’s flexing his arm muscles something stupid. 

“Here.” 

Aaron turns to his left and remembers John is alive and breathing and his husband. John hands Aaron the coffee he’s gone into Moira’s to make for him. Aaron sips and then pulls a face without John noticing. John always puts in half a spoon of sugar when Aaron has always told him he likes two sugars and plenty of milk. John says it’s healthier. 

The whole trust me I’m a doctor thing is absolutely not endearing or flirty anymore. It’s a pain in the neck.

“God he’s awful.” John says and Aaron hates the fact that he knows exactly who John is talking about. Robert is so deeply under John’s skin it’s mad. Aaron gets it, he feels it too but John shouldn’t. He shouldn’t feel the way he does because Aaron has been trying his absolute best to make out Robert is a complete non-entity in their life now. 

Fat lot of good that’s doing.

Aaron ignores John completely and takes a sip of his coffee. They’re meant to be here helping. He honestly didn’t think Robert would be bothered to come and be a consistent farm hand. 

He remembers quiet talks with the covers pulled over their heads whispering quietly about Jack and the farm and how Robert always felt so far removed from it all.

“He’s going to injure himself if he keeps lifting like that.” John says and he actually tuts.

Robert laughs at something Moira says and she slaps his arm in this tender motherly way. Aaron watches and feels this ache of jealousy hit him out of nowhere.

“You know he’s doing this to make Vic think he can keep a job. He just won’t get the hint.”

“Neither can you.” Aaron snaps. 

John stands taller. “What?” He asks. He turns right towards Aaron and his shadow blocks out the sun slightly. It also blocks out Aaron’s view of Robert. It feels a little poetic.

Aaron shrugs with one shoulder. “I’m not replying to any of your little digs and yet you’re still making them.” He says. “It’s boring.”

John looks ready to snap. Aaron’s seen this before. “If you can’t understand why I’m not his biggest fan then maybe you don’t know me at all.”

It sounds like something Aaron would say himself. It almost makes him laugh. It’s weird, being on the receiving end of it and realising it’s so dramatic and daft. 

“What’s so funny?” John seethes and Aaron realises he needs to readjust his face. He doesn’t in time. “You know what, I’ve got filing to do. Have fun shovelling hay all afternoon.” He says and then he’s off. 

Aaron feels a bout of guilt and then it goes as soon as Robert appears back in view. The overalls really are something. Aaron feels stupid for being so mesmerised. 

“Oi! Are you helping or staring?” Mack shouts right across to Aaron. It makes Aaron jump up a little and his coffee goes flying. He didn’t want it anyway. He tips the rest of it away and walks over to where Mack, Matty and Robert are standing. 

They’re near a barn that’s way too familiar for Aaron. He thinks and thinks and thinks until he’s back lying against the hay hearing Robert moan below him and then tell him he’s got to go back to his wife.

Aaron drags the overalls Mack’s given him on as quickly as he can and starts to get to work and it’s fine until Moira wants them to fix a tractor engine and Matty stares between Aaron and Robert. He points out that they’re the most qualified.

It’s not exactly wrong. It’s just frustrating.

Aaron sighs and sticks a hand in his pocket. “Where’s the tractor then?” He asks.

Robert walks ahead. Aaron watches him quietly. He takes a step whenever Robert does. He can see a small scar on the back of Robert’s neck and he stares at it the whole way there. The tractor is right in the middle of the field and there’s tools sitting right beside it. 

“I’ll have a look.” Aaron decides.

Robert just sort of stares down and lets Aaron get to work.

“No John then?” Robert asks after a few minutes have gone by. Aaron’s still staring down at the engine but he’s pretty sure that Robert has a faint smirk on his face at the fact that John didn’t stick around.

“He was busy.” Aaron lies.

“What a shame.” Robert says. Aaron pulls his eyes away and stares at Robert. “What? Moira needs all the help she can get.”

“Yeah and you’re helping.” Aaron says. It’s stating the obvious but there’s a question in there too. He looks up and down at Robert. “In farm gear and all.”

“Isn’t the first time.” Robert points out. He tilts his head and Aaron’s in danger here. “Remember when –”

“Yes.” Aaron says. 

“I wasn’t sure you would.” Robert says and it riles Aaron up a little. 

“You look better than I remembered.” Aaron blurts out. “In the – in the overalls.” He might as well just completely ruin all his hard work.

Robert arches an eyebrow. “So you do remember.”

“I just said, didn't I?” Aaron scowls but he doesn’t commit enough and Robert clearly picks up on it.

“Remember what happened when we were alone.” Robert says it like it’s just any other sentence, like it hasn’t shifted everything completely. 

Aaron looks up and then Robert is directly in front of him. Aaron bites his lip hard and then his hand is coming up towards Robert’s chest to push him back but he can’t bring himself to do it.

One second, Robert is staring at him and the next Aaron is kissing him. They stand there for what feels like hours. Robert’s hands are everywhere and Aaron allows himself to be a little manhandled as Robert pushes him against the side of the tractor and licks into his mouth.

Aaron can hear someone moan. He’s not sure if it’s him or Robert.

Eventually, Aaron has to come up for air and come to his senses.

“That – uh – that –” Aaron pants against Robert’s mouth. 

Robert shuts him up by taking the opportunity to kiss Aaron again, harder than before, somehow deeper too. Aaron’s heart pounds hard in his chest as Robert leans back and smiles this sweet genuine little smile that used to absolutely ruin Aaron.

“This can’t happen.” Aaron manages to say after a few seconds.

Robert takes a step back and nods like he agrees or understands or something. 

“It already is happening Aaron.” Robert shrugs, and then he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s me and you.” He adds, maybe to be mean to to be romantic. Aaron can’t decide.

Then Robert walks back towards the farm and Aaron’s forced to watch him walk away. 

Again.

[mocharacha]

Iridescent Part 2: Iced Coffee Brown

Summary: Y/N and Hyunjin are back at it again, slinging color palettes and side-eyes as they hate each other like perfectionists hate uneven brushstrokes. But when a project forces them into close quarters for a part-time job, spilled drinks and sharp words might not be the only thing flying. Underneath the sarcasm? Tension. And maybe not just the angry kind. Pairing: Hyunjin x Female Reader Genre: College AU, Academic Rivals to Lovers Warnings: name-calling and mild profanity, verbal conflict, joking fantasy violence Word count: 3,5k

< Previous | Masterlist | Aesthetic | Next Part >

One day, I swear I’m going to strangle you and whip that stupid condescending expression off your face!

You thought as Hwang-Freaking-Hyunjin trotted through the halls of the museum behind you. He easily kept pace with you since his long legs were able to take bigger strides, making him practically breathe down your neck. Of course, you adjusted your pace accordingly and were essentially speed walking through the museum.

Since you had been working here longer and knew all the quirks and happenings backstage, Kim-seonsaengnim had left Hyunjinin your care to get him familiarized with the museum and give him a tour.

Hyunjin looked bored and disinterested. You shortly explained that the break room with the employee bathroom was used by everyone and was a great place to avoid if you wanted peace and quiet. The benefit, however, was that they all took turns getting baked goods and coffee for bi-weekly staff meetings. You showed him the little smoker balcony that had steps leading into a small outdoor rock garden with a bench and an atrium featuring an old, broken water fountain. 

Maintenance was informed about it….yeah right….it has been years.

Then you showed him the equipment room, told him how to work the little headsets and audio guides for tours, and explained how to fix the most common issues regarding the manuals and headsets.

“We have tours every other day…the number varies every time, but you’ll be informed about an hour before how many are coming. Regardless,ou have to show up because sometimes there are people who spontaneously decide to stop by,” you explained and hurried along.

The sole of your sneakers made you momentarily slip on the shiny museum floor. You hoped Hyunjin didn’t see that and continued, “In the break room is a red flash drive with the information about the different tours. You can also use the link Kim-seonsaengnim  must have to send you already to log into our drop box and download it…Yeah…”

You turned around the corner and used your employee pass to get access to the hallway. You started your tour and returned to the large room used for art classes.

“So here we are again for the room we use for the Little Leo’s art classes…” you said and swung your arms back and forth, hands clutched into little fists as you turned around on the balls of your feet to face him. “We have two days when we offer the art classes and usually have two groups visit each time. Also, just before special holidays…we help them make gifts for their loved ones…kinda obvious, right?.... So on Thursdays we have a regular class…like the one who just left, they made these pictures.”

You pointed towards the corner of the room where several thin canvases were hung up on a string to dry.

“Impressive really,” Hyunjin’s voice was laced with obvious sarcasm as his golden eyes darted over the paintings, assessing each one with a calm and calculating gaze. His eyes stopped at one particular picture, which stood out against the others. 

On,e because instead of the simple design of sunflowers in a vase, the painter had drawn a dinosaur eating a sunflower. Second, the said dinosaur was painted using an almost neon green and wearing a big black spot on his eyes that were supposed to be sunglasses.

Hyunjin snorted the corner of his lips twitched, you almost thought that he was amused if he didn’t use words that were obviously meant sarcastically, “Brilliant.”

“Be nice,” you warned, crossing your arms. “They’re kids after all…and Junwon-ah  worked really hard on this…”

Indeed, even though little freckled Junwon always managed to include his dinosaurs in his artworks, he always worked on his craft with focus. He never let anyone of his peers distract him and asked questions in a gentle and kind voice.

“He missed the whole point of the picture,” Hyunjin scoffed. “If I’d be their teacher, I’d fail him for that.”

“Excuse a 7-year-old to have fun in a voluntary art class” you rolled your eyes. “Besides, we’re not here to give them grades, Hwang.”

His eyes met yours, and you felt like he wanted to add something but just silently nudged up his chin, urging you to go on with your tour.

 “Yeah, so your predecessor and I decided on a curriculum, which is also in the drop box…you can also take a look in my…our…desk over there in the top drawer. 

The materials and cleaning supplies are in the backroom, but don’t worry, the teachers and guardians always ensure that they are used and stored neatly. Careful about the door, it often jams, so be sure to have a key on you or have someone outside the supply room to open it up…hold it ”

You thought about the young teacher who chaperoned the class earlier today with a smile, he’d kindly held open the heavy door for you when you rolled out the little trolley with the brushes on it. 

Your felt Hyunjins gaze on you, taking in your expression with a calculated expression.

“Sounds like someone has a crush on the teacher,” Hyunjin observed, nothing but his condescending expression told you about a gentle tease.

“I’m not,” huffed you and stated, “He is just a gentleman, unlike someone else…”

He, however, ignored your jab and instead darted his eyes up and down your figure. 

“Do I also have to dress in the ridiculous manner you decide to present yourself in.”

You were wearing the same thing this morning: ripped paint-splattered jeans, black Converse, and a white shirt, which you just noticed had some faint splatters of paint on it despite wearing that painter's apron earlier. Your blazer and pullover were draped over the chair at the desk.

“Well, you can dress however you like in here,” you gritted through your teeth. “If you want your fancy pants to be messed up by paint and clay…go on, wear your damn suits.”

 “At least I don’t look like I’m the cleaning lady when I work.” Hyunjin shrugged, then went to the desk to review the curriculum and class schedule. Meanwhile, you took off the apron and hung it on a hook in the supply room, checked if you put away the things, then went to the desk to squeeze between Hwang’s back and the wall to get to your bag and the chair.

“Watch it,” he hissed as you pushed him a little.

“Move over, will ya?” you snarled back. You put on the pullover before grabbing the blazer and the bag to check your phone. 

“I’ll guess I’ll see you around then...” you gritted once more through your teeth.

“You’re leaving already? Thank goodness, I’d never thought I’d have the peace and quiet,” Hyunjin said, focused on the folder in his hands.

“Then you’ll love the art classes,” you said, rolling your eyes and sliding into the blazer. “Peace and quiet…”

“About that…is there a way to avoid them?” His eyes darted over the information; he had long lashes….pretty you thought. Then shook your head, swatting the thought away and focused on a snarky remark.

“You do realize that this was in your job description…or do you just pretend to be able to read?”

“I can read, but I’m not looking forward to babysitting,” he said and closed the binder in his hands.

“Well,” you muttered, adjusting the cuffs of your sweater. You considered it, the thought in your head. You weren’t fond of the lame old museum tours…this could be a win-win situation, and therefore suggested, “We could come to an arrangement that I do most of the arts classes, and you take over my tours. We have to do both either way…”

“Wow…an actual intelligent idea coming of your bird brain.”

 You ignored his jab at you and glanced at your phone; dang it…it was getting late.

“Yes, let’s talk about this on another day,” you said, and started packing your bag.

 “Got somewhere else to be?” Hyunjin sneered, “Does the boyfriend of yours?”

“I don’t know how that is any of your business, Hwang, but no…” You sighed. “How about we discuss the schedule somewhere else…um…maybe tomorrow after school.”

Hyunjin considered, then said, “I can't, it's Friday and…”

 “Right,” you interrupted, “You have competition and won’t be back until Saturday…”

Hyunjin faltered and raised a brow, wondering how you knew that, but nodded.

 “Aight…” you said. “But you’ll be back here Sunday, right?”

He nodded again and watched you scribble something on a notepad with Molang and  Piu Piu on it, which you had on the desk, ripped the page off, and handed it to the tall guy.

“Meet me on Sunday at 2 p.m. at this café,” you stated and shouldered your backpack. I think you can see yourself out on your own, right? I really have to get going.”

Hyunjin glanced at the characters on notepad…almost smiling, then nodded. 

“Alright, then make sure to check if any windows are open, the radiators are off and that the lights are switched off…also we’re almost the last ones in the break room. You have to check everything in there as well…if anything is wrong with your card, go to the front desk and…”

“Yes, I know,” Hyunjin interrupted. “Stop babbling and get going…. geez I’m not one of these kids.”

“Right, you’re just a rude jackass” you rolled your eyes and spat, “Looking forward to work with you Hwang.”

 You hoped that he heard the venom in your tone.

“Tsk…” he said, rummaged in his back, getting out a big sketchpad and coal pencils, “Back at you…..”

 ________

Hwang Hyunjin had the luxury to sleep in a little on Sunday and was happy to do so. The competition with his Dance Group SKZ out of town was good, though they were the 2nd runner-up overall ,they won a section of the improv battle. 

Hyunjin had the time to eat breakfast and work a little on his homework, look over the drop box folder before he got dressed, and went to the little café you had scribbled on the notepad adorned with the small chick and bunny. 

Tired eyes behind glasses looked around and saw the little café at the end of a plaza, right opposite the water fountain.  

A few chairs and tables were outside, the metal was painted in pastel colors, and the wood had a shabby-rustic design. All in all, cutesy but still a shabby-chic country house aesthetic. Jokjebi-Café was written in cursive over the entrance.

Hyunjin considered waiting outside after taking a look at the café thorugh the window. There weren’t many customers, probably because breakfast and lunchtime were over, and anyway he’d have seen you if you were inside. But no, the only people left were a middle-aged man behind a newspaper and what looked like two boys at the end of the café in a booth.

He glanced at his watch, 2.pm…. you were late. God-damn it you were annoying. 

Punctuality was never one of your strong suits, and you always seem to be rushing from one place to another. Preferably fast if your small legs allowed it, a lot of time Hyunjin had seen the blurry of you dash across campus and even more that you had the tendency to spill whatever you were holding onto yourself…or others.

Stupid smoothie, by the time Hyunjin had gone home last week to change out of the stained pants, the color had seeped into the fabric. 

Fair….he may have also forgotten to soak the stain, and thus, the pants were unusable, but surely it was all your fault.

Tardiness, you had a blabbermouth, were an insufferable know-it-all all, dressed like a Bohemian dwarf, were annoying, were some of the aspects Hyunjin would use to describe you, and he didn’t even want to start thinking about the glares you send him every time your gazes met. 

He didn’t even know why you hated him so much, but so far, he came to the conclusion he hated you too.

The air was chilly today. It seemed like Autumn was announcing its arrival, and so, Hyunjin entered the café without you. It wasn’t his fault that you were late.

“Welcome,” a voice behind the counter greeted him, and he saw a dark-haired girl, the name Tag Rin on her pastel blue apron. She seemed to recognize Hyunjin and nodded, “Ah…right… Hyunjin right? I’ll show you to your seat…”

She smiled and brought him to a booth close to the other side of the café, away from the guy who was reading the newspaper.

“Can I get you started on something?” she asked and gave him the menu.

“I’ll take a coffee… Americano,” Hyunjin said glancing at the menu, then remembered his manners, “Thanks…”

Rin, nodded and went back behind the counter, and was joined by another light brown haired girl who was just tying the bow on her apron around her waist and was glaring at him. Whispering something to Rin behind a hand. Rin looked at the girl and smiled, then shook her head. The other girl groaned and started making the coffee and brought it to him.

Bella, he read on her name tag.

“Y/N will shortly be with you,” Bella gritted under her teeth, “Nice for you to show up tho….”

Hyunjin didn’t know what that was about and ignored it and sipped at his coffee and watched the fountain outside the window. A minute later, he heard the familiar rush of footsteps announce your arrival, and Hyunjin was surprised to see you coming out of the doorway that led to the backside of the café.

He observed your eyes searching for him and lips turning into a smile that reached your eyes when your gaze met.

 Momentarily, then you seemed to remember who was sitting there, and the smile disappeared. 

Pity, it was a nice smile. He noted, then scoffed, glancing down to pick up the biscotti he had received with his drink.

Sniffing the biscotti with some suspicion, he watched you from the corner of his eyes.

You’d turned to Bella and Rin, probably speaking, but he didn't see because your back was toward him. The two baristas were chatting by the coffee machine and clearing out the dishwasher, and you said something to them. The girls gave a chuckle, and Bella gestured a fist pounding into a hand, to which Rin laughed, and you rolled your eyes and ducked under the lid of the counter and joined him.

“Sorry, I’m late… I was changing” you said, plopping down onto the bench opposite him, “Got some food on my shirt and had to get rid of the stain in the back.”

“You have a habit of spilling stuff all over you” Hyunjin noted.

“Starting with the insults bright and early ay?” you shrugged and took out a folder from your bag,  “What a wonderful way to spend your Sunday. Let’s get this over with…”

“Right,” Hyunjin agreed and got out his own planner,  “So you mentioned that you prefer the Thursday course.”

“Yes…pretty much, it’s easier for me to work back to back on Thursdays…” you stated, and when Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, you explained “I rather have a full day and have the luxury of having days where I don’t work than work a little every day…”

He still looked confused.

“After the lessons at the museum… I work here…at the café…sometimes even before…depending on the day….” you explained, pointing at the counter.

“Ah…okay…” he shrugged and sipped coffee.  He assumed so far, since you came out of the backstage entry and talked about food that was spilled on you. But still…he was curious.

“You work three jobs?” he asked, remembering all three: the museum, the café, and the student assistant position.

“Money,” you shrugged, “The job at the café pays me more than the two others combined, especially when people tip well. I do the student jobs on my off days, it’s really not much work and doesn’t pay well…but I like teacher, and it’s good on applications and stuff and the museum job is for me to have some practical experience in the field…it also helped with getting the internship…that’s why you took the job right?”

Hyunjin nodded, true, he originally wanted to intern solely at the fine arts part of the museum, but they didn’t offer a job there. His thought was that if he worked well in the part-time teaching position at the arts department, the director would eventually offer him a transfer position….if not, he’d get a better chance to get a job after graduation. 

“Here your iced coffee Y/N…I also saved you a bagel” the voice of the waitress named Bella made Hyunjin look up from his notes, she was yet again glaring at him.

“Bella…be nice,” you warned and rolled your eyes.

“If he makes you cry…I’ll hurt him,” Bella hissed loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Okay…you will…” you mumbled and gently patted her hip to get her moving.

“What was that about?” Hyunjin asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” you said, waving it of “So about the schedule…Kim-seonsaengnim said that you have to do some classes and I have to do tours…I suggest that I take the Sunday afternoon tours for kids, and you join me on Thursdays…since both are our busier days…”

Hyunjin nodded, “I’ll take the rest of the tours, and you’ll take over the classes on Monday afternoon?”

You nodded,, biting into the bagel. “On days when you have competitions on the weekend…I can take over if you do the same for some of my classes in return. I’ll look at the schedule of your dance practice when I get home and text you.”

Hyunjin hesitated, then smirked, “How do you know my dance practice schedule?”

You rolled your eyes, “I just do…”

“Are you perhaps a fan?” he smirked a little behind his cup.

“Oh yes, clearly” you rolled your eyes “Dumbass, I share a flat with Minho”

That was a shocker, and Hyunjin genuinely looked surprised.  He knew that his older teammate Lee Minho, crazy cat dad and dance god, lived with a girl.  It was obvious that one time the team had come over for after-practice drinks, and they saw the cosmetics in the bathroom, but the roommate hadn't been there that day.

Minho-hyung had said that his roommate was a year younger than him and attended the same high school, was friends with a few of his younger teammates, and it had just worked out.

“You live with him voluntarily?” Hyunjin shook his head, “And I thought my opinion of you couldn’t sink any lower.”

“Aww…cute…put that comment please into my special cookie jar for I don’t give a fuck” you hissed defensively. 

True, Lee Know was a menace, but he was a sweet and thoughtful person. The guy walked around with treats for street cats just in case he encountered one, for goodness' sake.  

“I’m surprised that your oh so intelligent brain didn’t connect the dots…”

“Correction…I didn’t think that Minho-Hyung would aim so low and live with you.” Hyunjin countered.

“Once more, I don’t give a fuck…” You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your iced coffee, chocked on a piece of crushed ice, yelped, and cursed as the liquid splashed on your shirt.

“You really are incapable of doing the most mundane of tasks…” Hyunjin assessed, cross-armed and leaning back on the bench

You glared and reached out to grab a napkin to dab at the spot, and realized that there were none left on the table. You turned your head around the booth and said

“Hey, Felix, could you pass me a tissue”?

A snicker was heard from the other booth, where Hyunjin remembered that two males were sitting in. He was surprised to see Lee Felix’s face pop up from there, grinning at the two of them. The other person Seungming nodded “Sup Hyunjin….”

“What are they doing here?” Hyunjin asked, wondering what his team mates were doing here.  

“Mooching off” you stated, grabbed the tissues Felix handed you and tried to save your shirt.

“We are regular customers” Seungmin argued.

“You’d be customers if you actually paid for the stuff and don’t let me handle your tab” you rolled your eyes “You got your breakfast and your lunch…so why are you still here.”

“Hanging out with our favorite person in the whole wide world” Seungmin deadpanned.

You sighed and gave up on the spot on your shirt, “The two of you mooch around at my apartment often enough, I don’t need you bugging me at my work place. Get lost”

“Only because you say so princess” Seungmin snickered and got up, he glanced at the end of the café where the man behind the newspaper had been sitting. 

He was gone now. Felix nodded at Seungmin, then the two of them waved goodbye at you and Hyunijn.

“Nice of you to show up this time” Seungmin said to Hyunjin and once again, who wondered why this argument came up again. 

He glanced at you, who had your face in your palm, groaning.

You looked up as you felt his questioning look on you. 

He quirked an eyebrow. Silently urging you to explain. 

Your mouth opened in shock, and realization hit you. 

Oh…. He didn’t even remember.

One day, I swear I’m going to strangle you and whip that stupid condescending expression off your face!

[isabelckl]

texting loser!ellie that you have nipple piercing in class 4

nerdy loser!ellie x popular mean fem!reader

bored in english, you reply to a girl named E you’ve been talking to on an anonymous gay dating app—without knowing it’s that lesbian nerd girl, ellie williams.

texting loser!ellie that you have nipple piercing in class 3

You were already home when you opened your conversation with her.

E:

i have to tell you something.

You frowned the second your eyes landed on it.

You were already curled into bed—fresh from the shower, hair damp against your neck, oversized shirt slouching soft over your thighs. The room was dim, lit only by the weak orange buzz of your fairy lights. That Friday exhaustion still clung to your bones, but none of it mattered.

You were settled. Cozy. Warm.

There was nothing better than the thought of spending the whole weekend like this—no plans, no noise. Just your room, your phone, and her.

Something about the message hit different. Not her usual caps-locked chaos or horny emoji spiral. Just plain. Sharp. Hanging in the air like a loaded pause.

You stared at it longer than you meant to, thumb hovering.

You:

heyyyy

yeah?

what is it

You watched the read receipt appear, vanish, then return—followed by the word Typing, then nothing, then Typing again, like she was wrestling with whatever it was she couldn’t quite say.

E:

nevermind lol it’s dumb

just had a brain moment

u ever think a thing and go wait no i’m actually insane?

that was me. carry on.

You stared and your frown lingered.

There was something in it. Something unfinished, like she’d swallowed the thought halfway. It pressed at your chest—not hard, but enough to make you pause.

You let it sit there and tapped your thumb slow against the screen.

You:

don’t do that

if it mattered to you, it’s not dumb.

A beat and you double texted her.

You:

but fine. i’ll stop bugging

just tell me when ur ready

even if it’s weird

i like weird

E:

okay but what if it was like “i was possessed by a sexy ghost” weird

or “i’ve been thinking about ur mouth for 5 days straight” weird

bc that’s the category i’m working in rn

You snorted, the knot in your chest loosening instantly.

You:

girl what

E:

this is ur fault.

ur criminally hot and i’m emotionally unstable.

i almost sent u a poem today and had to physically restrain myself

You:

wait u wrote me a poem???

E:

no one’s ever gonna see it

unless i die then u can publish it posthumously

You rolled onto your side, laughing into your pillow, smiling so hard it made your face ache.

You:

SO how was ur day, poet

other than spiraling over my mouth

did the tragic lesbian survive algebra?

E:

barely

i almost died. they tried to silence me.

i doodled boobs on my notes again. staying humble.

You:

u say that like it’s a coping mechanism

E:

it is. ur boobs specifically

You snorted again, tension bleeding out of you with every stupid message that followed.

You:

do u miss them ??

should i send u some again so u can cope better?

E:

don’t tempt me rn i’m weak and unsupervised

You:

so that’s a yes

E:

that’s an always

You bit your lip, grinning into your pillow like an idiot.

She was back to herself—unhinged and dramatic, talking about how her math teacher was probably a demon who fed on the dreams of students. Complete with all-caps outbursts and at least two conspiracy theories. You kept laughing. Kept typing.

Eventually, your thumbs started to cramp.

You:

i swear my thumbs are buff now bc of u

E:

hot

You:

everything i say u turn into gay

E:

it's given

You bit your lip. Your heart thumped—stupid and full.

You didn’t ask again about the message. You didn’t have to. Whatever she’d meant to say, she clearly couldn’t yet.

You stayed texting until your phone went warm in your palm, until your eyes stung from grinning too long. By the time you checked the clock, it was 3AM.

You didn’t mean to stay up that late, but that’s what always happened with her. The later it got, the more chaotic the messages became. If it wasn’t full-blown unhinged, it was weirdly horny. And if it wasn’t horny, it got accidentally deep—like two sleep-deprived idiots trying to figure out the meaning of life between memes and finger-smash typing.

You:

do u ever wonder what we’d be like if we met in real life?

or would we combust instantly?

You barely had time to brace for whatever ridiculous answer that would get when your phone buzzed again—this time from a different notification.

From Ellie.

You blinked at the name—Ellie, already saved in your phone—and still typed:

You:

who is this?

Ellie:

It’s Ellie. From school.

A faint smirk tugged at your lips.

You:

i know

Ellie:

Just wanted to let you know I’m starting the draft for our project. It’s nothing serious, just bullet points. I figured I’d organize ideas before Monday.

You stared at her message, already smiling.

You:

you couldn’t tell me that earlier in class??

Ellie:

I didn’t think of it until now.

Also I'm still awake, so.

You:

why r u still up anyway ?

Ellie:

I wanted to be productive while the ideas were still fresh.

You snorted.

You:

nerd.

Ellie:

Sure.

You paused, glancing at your other chat. E hadn’t replied yet. Your thumb hovered, tempted to double text.

But right before you did—

E:

sorry went blank for a sec i was picturing how u say my name in a whisper lol anyway what were we even talking about

You laughed out loud, the sound muffled into your pillow.

You:

do u want me dead

E:

yes but like sexily

Another buzz.

Ellie:

Let me know if you’d rather read the notes now or wait for Monday. Either way works.

You laid your phone on your chest for a second, staring at the ceiling. One of them wanted to die at your hands. The other was politely offering to share bullet points at 3AM.

And just like that—when you’re happy, when it’s fun—time moved stupidly fast.

The hallway pulsed with the usual Monday mess—shuffling sneakers, lockers clanging shut, someone already yelling, and of course, that one kid running like it’s a sport.

You felt obnoxiously good for a Monday. The kind of good that only came from two straight days of texting someone who made your brain feel like soda bubbles. You were still carrying a smile that hadn’t fully faded since 3AM.

You suddenly spotted Ellie.

Standing at her locker, blue flannel shrugged over her usual black tee, one side of her hair still sleep-creased. Headphones rested around her neck. She looked a little worn—like sleep hadn’t been a priority. Like someone who’d stayed up too late doing something they didn’t regret.

You didn’t stop walking. Just drifted right up beside her locker, leaned against the one next to it like you had all the time in the world.

She didn’t look at you at first—just shifted her books with one hand, nudging her sketchpad into place. Her fingers lingered at the edge of a notebook you knew too well now. The one she said she started drafting in.

Finally, a glance. Quick and dry.

Then a sigh.

You smirked at her reaction. Tilted your head like you were observing something mildly amusing.

“So,” you said. “How was your weekend?”

Ellie didn’t answer right away. Just reached deeper into the locker like she was debating throwing herself inside it.

“Quiet,” she said without looking at you.

You raised your brows. “That’s it?”

She shoved a pencil case into her bag and shut the locker with a dull thud. “What do you want me to say? I spent it drafting our project.”

You leaned in slightly, voice lowering. “Mm. So productive.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t help it if you’re easily impressed.”

“Who said I was impressed?” you shot back, one brow raised. “I’m just asking.”

Ellie adjusted the strap of her guitar case on her shoulder, finally meeting your eyes. “Right. You’re just asking. Because you care deeply about how I spent my weekend.”

You shrugged, unfazed. “Maybe I do.”

That got you a blink. A pause. Her gaze flicked over your face—just for a second too long.

You smiled, all teeth.

“Wanna guess how I spent mine?”

Ellie didn’t say anything—just glanced away, too fast to be casual.

You tapped the locker with your knuckles, straightened up slowly. “See you in class, Williams.”

And with that, you walked off and didn’t look back.

But if you had, you might’ve caught the exact moment Ellie muttered under her breath—barely audible over the hallway noise.

“Jesus Christ.”

You slipped into your usual seat, still warm from your walk through the halls and encounter with Ellie. One of your friends tossed a lazy “hey,” but you barely glanced up—already pulling your phone out, screen lighting up with that soft blue glow.

You:

wakey wakey

i’m already in class

don’t blame me again if you end up being late, poet

Your grin was immediate. Unchecked. You bit it back behind your palm, thumbs still hovering when someone cleared their throat right beside you.

You looked up.

Ellie.

You didn’t hide your expression—still smiling like a dumbass, phone in hand.

“Yeah?” you asked, one brow raised.

She was holding out the notebook. The one she told you about. She didn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Just—here,” she muttered, placing it down in front of you.

Your gaze dropped to the familiar cover, then back to her.

You smiled wider. “Thanks. I’ll look over it later.”

She nodded, quiet. “Cool.”

She turned without another word and made her way to her own seat. You tapped the corner of the notebook with your fingers, still smiling.

Your phone buzzed.

E:

why are u like this

i was gonna be late but now i’m getting up just to annoy u

also maybe to see what u look like in class all smug and pretty

You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh.

You:

haha u wish

i wish u were my classmate for real tho

i can only think of many things 👀

E:

what things ??

You:

idk

maybe like… we’d be seatmates

and i wouldn’t wear any undies on purpose

Three dots appeared immediately. It vanished and came back again.

E:

ok well. i just flatlined in my desk chair.

thanks a lot

You:

just trying to motivate u to get to school on time

E:

I'M ALREADY AT SCHOOL BRUH

i am not responsible for the thoughts i’m having rn

You grinned, legs curled up in your chair, heart stupidly light.

You:

am i making u…?

right now?

Another pause.

Typing..

E:

ma’am this is a public institution

You:

answer the question :)

E:

let’s just say i’m sitting very still rn

and ur going to hell. congrats.

You bit back another grin so hard your cheeks hurt.

You:

worth it.

E:

i hate u

Your thumb hovered over the screen, still smiling like a complete idiot as the bell rang.

You:

ur really gonna hate me when i say

i’m not even wearing a bra rn

E:

YOU’RE A MENACE

i hope you’re proud of yourself for what you're doing to me

You:

just a little

E:

really huh

if i were ur seatmate

i’d sit too close

thighs touching, shoulder to shoulder

and i’d keep dropping my pen just to bend down and grab it

and yk

You:

AND I KNOW WHAT?

GO ON I BEG U

okay actually u don’t need to

because i already am..

E:

good.

that’s what you deserve.

you wanna play? let’s play.

You:

worth it again

every damn single time

Your phone buzzed again, and you bit back another grin.

E:

UR INSANE

You:

okay well tytl nerd

class starts

but thank u i guess for giving me something to think about while i touch myself tonight

or maybe right after this class ;)

Time blurred.

Class, lunch, class again—standard Monday drag. Nothing special. Just the usual shuffle between subjects and half-awake conversations that barely counted as human interaction.

Now, you were in the library for your last period. Final class of the day. The room was quiet in that stiff, almost sacred way libraries get—like if you breathed too loud, someone would smite you.

Ms. Alvarez, who walked in balancing a thick binder and a tired expression. She barely made it past the first five minutes before clearing her throat and announcing, “Alright, class. I have a faculty meeting in ten. You’re allowed to continue working on your project in pairs, but you must stay in the classroom or within school premises. No one leaves early. Understood?”

You were sitting across from Ellie. She was fully immersed in whatever she was typing on her laptop—jaw tight, brows drawn, fingers moving like she was coding national security protocols instead of organizing character arcs.

You tried to match her energy for a grand total of three minutes before your attention span gave out completely.

Your gaze dropped to the window. From the second-floor view, you could see a couple of students loitering around the quad, stretched out across benches and grass. Someone was dramatically eating a banana. You didn’t know why that annoyed you.

Without thinking, you reached for your phone.

One unread message.

E:

WHAT THE FUCK

IF UR GOING TO TELL ME SOMETHING LIKE THAT IN CLASS AT LEAST LET ME WATCH

FOR COMPENSATION

jk

but yes?

You bit your lip hard—so hard it almost hurt—not wanting to smile in front of Ellie. You slipped the phone away like it burned, then reached toward her side of the table.

She didn’t look up when you slid her notebook over, flipping straight to the page.

Possible Story Structure – v1.0

You stared at it for a beat. Then made a face.

“This is so boring,” you muttered.

Ellie kept typing. “Don’t start.”

“I’m serious. This is criminal. Look at this—no dramatic kisses? No one cries? This is actual villain behavior.”

“They’re just notes,” she said without looking up.

“They’re rules. And they suck.”

“They’re guidelines,” she corrected, finally glancing your way. “And they exist because someone—you—suggested glitter-induced closet sex as a turning point.”

“And yet, you wrote it down.”

Ellie sighed through her nose. “So you’d shut up.”

You jabbed your pen at the “Maybe a forehead touch??” line. “This. Right here. What is this. This is loser behavior.”

“It’s called restraint.”

You let out the fakest gasp imaginable. “Loser and pretentious.”

Ellie leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. “You want them crying in the rain after a juice box incident.”

“Because that’s real storytelling, Ellie.”

“You literally renamed the central conflict The Tragic Juice Box Betrayal of 7th Grade.”

“It was a betrayal. And it was orange. It stained. It’s metaphorical. You just don't understand.”

You were staring back at each other.

You leaned forward just a little. “Also, I know you sketched the supply closet scene in the margin of your algebra notebook.”

“That was a box,” she said flatly. “It was a literal box.”

“Sure,” you said, unconvinced.

Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose like she was trying to summon patience from another plane of existence.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered.

“You’re just repressed.”

She blinked. “Says the girl blushing at her phone two minutes ago.”

You froze.

Ellie tilted her head, a little too smug. “Hmm?”

You cleared your throat. “That’s classified.”

She smirked—barely. “Suspicious.”

You slid the notebook back toward her. “Fix your outline before I submit a new draft with a title you won't really like.”

She rolled her eyes casually, shaking her head as she went back to her laptop.

You leaned back in your chair—annoyed, stretching a little before grabbing your phone again—this time not even pretending to be sneaky about it.

Ellie didn’t look up, but you could feel her noticing.

You opened your chat with E, thumb already moving.

You:

i’m literally sitting across from the most insufferable person alive

she’s so bossy and uptight and acts like she’s above dramatic plotlines

like okay sorry i want EMOTION in my fake scenarios??? sue me???

she actually said “restraint” like it was a flex. loser behavior actually.

You smirked, shot a glance up, then kept typing.

You:

also she keeps pretending she didn’t sketch the closet scene

it was OBVIOUSLY not just a box

You huffed quietly, shifting in your seat. Ellie was still typing—completely zoned in, not looking at you.

You looked back down at your screen.

You:

she’s doing that thing again

getting all serious like we’re submitting this to sundance

like relax. it’s two fictional lesbians and a tragic juice box. let me work.

You paused for a beat, then kept going.

You:

WHATEVER

idk. don’t wanna argue about it

i just wanna talk to you

remember what i said before about making out in the nonfiction aisle?

i’m here at the library ;)

i can imagine our kiss

HOT

i'll have you finger me 'till I cum and my legs shake

and we go back to class like nothing happened

You stared at the message for a second, then laughed under your breath and set your phone down on the table, face-down. You suddenly felt silly—teasing, sure, but also a little giddy. Like you were getting away with something. Especially with Ellie right in front of you, looking like the literal opposite of whatever that text had just suggested.

She was still focused. Still typing. Her MacBook open, her hand flicking her pen across the margins of her notebook. The light hit her rings again. She was chewing her bottom lip.

You grabbed your pen and started doodling in the corner of your notes. Hearts, stars, little lesbian stick figures making out beside bookshelves.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught something—Ellie’s posture had shifted. Her brow furrowed deeper, her eyes narrowed at the screen.

Then she bit her lip again, harder this time. Her hand came up, fingers scratching just above her eyebrow like she was trying to stay grounded. Her expression pinched for a second—like she was trying to keep her face neutral and failing.

You glanced out the window instead. Golden light, slow-moving clouds. You imagined E, imagined her standing on the other side of this table, all smirking confidence and chaos. You smiled to yourself, tapping your pen twice before reaching back for your phone.

Still no reply.

You frowned a little. Refreshed the app. Nothing.

Right then, Ellie stood up.

You looked up immediately. “Where are you going?”

She didn’t meet your eyes. Just grabbed the edge of her chair like she needed to move. “Getting a book,” she muttered, already walking.

You blinked, confused. “You already have like, four.”

She didn’t answer and just walked off. You watched her disappear down the aisle, your phone still in your hand.Still no message from E.

The empty screen felt louder than it should’ve.

A few minutes passed. Ellie didn’t come back.

You tapped your fingers once against the table, then got up, quietly making your way until the nonfiction aidle, farthest row in the back, where no one really went.

You found her there, tucked at the very end of the aisle, half-hidden behind the shelves. She was leaning slightly against them, phone in hand, her eyes fixed on the screen—expression unreadable, but her ears flushed just a little too pink to ignore.

She didn’t notice you right away.

But the second she did, she quickly lowered her phone and reached for a nearby book, flipping it open like she’d been studying the whole time.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

Instead, you glanced at the shelves around you, trying not to smile—because of course it had to be this aisle. The same one you’d texted E about, half-joking, half-not.

“What’s funny?” Ellie asked without looking up, now looking so serious.

“Nothing,” you said, too fast.

“Really?” Her tone was dry, eyes still on the page.

You grabbed a random book from the shelf and flipped it open. “I just remembered something.”

“Uh huh.” She said it flatly, like she didn’t buy it.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. But you didn’t answer her. Just turned another page, pretending to read.

Ellie shifted beside you, thumbing through her own book.

“What are you even doing in the nonfiction aisle?” you asked, still not looking up. “It’s not like we’re writing nonfiction.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Well, actually… sometimes good fiction pulls from nonfiction. Real stories. Background stuff. It makes things feel more grounded.”

You peeked over the edge of your book. “Okay, nerd.”

She shrugged. “Just saying.”

You didn’t respond, but your thoughts were anything but neutral.

Okay sorry I'm just here because I’ve been thinking about making out with someone against these shelves for three days straight.

You stared down at the page—something about memory and neural pathways—but none of it stuck.

Your mouth twitched into a grin again. E’s dumb chaotic message echoed in your head.

You couldn’t wait to talk to her again tonight.

You glanced up.

Ellie was still there, head tilted slightly, lips parted in concentration, bathed in soft afternoon light spilling through the high windows.

She looked unreal. Sharp in some ways. Gentle in others.

She wasn’t even trying. Her flannel sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and her hair was half-messy like she’d forgotten to fix it after leaning against her hand too long. A strand curled near her cheek. Her rings caught the light again when she shifted the book. And her mouth—soft, slightly parted as she read—moved just a little when she wet her lips without thinking.

“Actually…” you started, voice light. “Can I ask you something?”

Ellie didn’t look up. “What?”

You waited a beat. “Have you ever thought about making out with someone in the library?”

That got her attention.

Her head lifted slowly, like she wasn’t sure she heard you right. “What?”

You grinned. Tilted your head. “I mean—have you ever thought about it? Like. Right here. This exact aisle.”

Ellie blinked once. “Do you mean making out with someone who’s… here in the library?”

Her voice had a weird edge. Something unreadable.

You scoffed, playful. “No. Just—like. Making out with someone in a library. Someone you like. A girl or whatever.”

She blinked again. Then scoffed lightly, like you’re ridiculous.

“No.”

You frowned. “Why not?”

She leaned her shoulder against the shelf. “Why would I make out with someone here?” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s the library.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, well—where would you bring them if you wanted to make out with them?”

That made her pause.

You watched her carefully.

She stared at you, then down at the book in your hands.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered.

You grinned. “That’s not an answer.”

She sighed and turned the page, trying to ignore you. “Not everyone makes out in public places, you know.”

“Yeah,” you said, shutting your book and letting it hang at your side. “But it’s fun to think about.”

She looked at you again.

“And you think about it a lot?” she asked, voice casual—but not quite.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “I do.” You added, a smirk playing in your lips.

Ellie exhaled slowly, her eyes flicking up to your face—and lingering. You could almost feel her gaze pause on your mouth for a second too long.

Then she shook her head, barely, like she was trying to snap herself out of it.

Without another word, she turned and walked off, heading back toward your table with quick, quiet steps—like she needed to leave before she did something she’d regret.

tag list:

@eclipcee8 @darkdanixoxo @chappellroankisser @senjukawaragitr @saverdelrey @appleofmyii @wzcoffeefloomo @fatbootymuncher @oneinameliann @ilahrawr @spiderx18 @vampirq @mioluvzsevika @ff4mi @ggutpunch @ellies-dinosaur @butchchase @bambiaches @velvetinkbym @rhian88 @azxteria @yxsmina @zaunite-516 @sweetshrew @eriiwaiii2 @bluminescent-moon @elliespotion @mascspleasegetmepregnant @dykeissih @babydoll-ivory @summerdaysout @tiedinbows @eilishfike @vixenkii @wtvmOmO @angelsglitch @vanpalmertruther @mikellie @re1daway @irysque @notkyleelol @the-sick-habit @autisticratbagtm @burden-4-dina @elliepoems @fragilevampirr @crucifiedfem @abbyandcaitlover @lovewitchss @soltwent

[cringyasf]

Supermassive Black Hole

Werewolf! Yuji x Vampire! fReader

02: Fangs & claws

Mainlist

"We're standing on sacred ground. This is where the treaty between wolves and vampires was signed about a century ago. I wasn't even alive yet, but my grandfather always made it his mission to tell us our story as a species."

Yuji was giving you an unsolicited class of Wolf history, not that you were complaining, maybe you don't were a lover of yappers but he was easy to listen at and made the walk to the center of the forest not so boring.

"He was the leader, there was no one like him." You could feel the pride in every word, his eyes were shining with Admiration and Passion, He was obviously proud of where he came from. "Until he had to fight with the bloodsucker leader and had no choice but to cede the northern part of his territory because the vampires were larger in number and he didn't want to cause trouble, so, yeah..."

"No they didn't, and there wasn't more vampires."

He snorted when you corrected him. "I didn't know leeches enjoyed changing the history."

"I was there when that happened, so i think I'm the one who is right here."

His eyes widened in surprise and his face turned to scan you quickly. "No way, how old are you?"

"you don't ask that to a lady."

He rolled his eyes but a smile formed on his lips. "oh come on, I would tell to anyone, granny."

"I'm 98, I was 18 when that happened 80 yeas ago, not a century."

"i said "like" I didn't claim that was the true!" Maybe he was funny, maybe you smiled a little.

"You believed it was, you seemed very confident about it."

"I'm a man with confidence in himself, what can i say? " He shrugged his shoulders as he smiled playfully arrogant.

"arrogant."

"More like a realist." You rolled your eyes but the smile didn't disappear from your lips, even if he was imitating your answer from a while ago, the reality is that he wasn't far from reality.

Yuji was popular, he was funny, and also confident, nice and a good friend.

He the type of guy that every girl would want to walk hand in hand, he was handsome, tall, athletic, affectionate, a gentleman. Such a Dream.

But not yours, right?

Right?

On the other hand you knew that people found you attractive, you knew that they talked about you, you could listen to them, but the few times that someone really dared to approach you you completely ignored them so now the invitations to dates were null and you liked that it was like that, it's not that you thought you are Unreachable (you really are) it's simply that you didn't want to deal with that part of human life. Love, dates and Boys. They were too vain for you.

"And you... You were born, you know, like this or..." Yuji had no idea if there was a vampiric rule about not asking that or if it was disrespectful, maybe it was rude Or maybe there was a story you didn't want to tell. 

"Do you want to know how I became a vampire?"

"I was 17 years old and I guess there's no great story behind it, I was just attacked by a wild vampire."

"wild?"

"The kind of vampires who drink human blood and cause problems for my kind, they are always wiped out by other vampires or locked up in insane asylums by humans who consider them lunatics."

"It also happens with some werewolves."

"Humans usually call anyone who is different from them lunatics." He let out a small chuckle.

"I guess so, but, What happened? he just bite you or what?" He was curious, he had a lot of questions, he liked to talk and ask.

"Yeah, something like that. It was night and I had run away from home, I guess I hadn't realized how stupid and immature I was being. I remember feeling like someone was chasing me and I tried to ignore that feeling but My instinct was right, before I could react I was already on the ground with a vampire on me sucking my blood, it's the most painful thing I've ever felt, but I got help before he could kill me."

"Help from who?"

"Satoru."

"Oh."

He let out a small sigh. There were many things that were said about Satoru, few of them were good but after so much time living with him you knew that they were only exaggerations. There were still many things he wanted to know about you and vampires. (especially about you)

"Oh." You imitated him.

Yuji frowned slightly and looked at you "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That oh." Now he was the one who imitated you, You chuckled. "You know, I thought you'd be a lot more bitter."

"And I thought you'd be more annoying."

Yuji rolled his eyes but the smile on his lips only became more and more noticeable "You're so nice." He joked sarcastically.

"It's part of my charm."

"So you have Charm?" He sneered, he was just playing, of course you were lovely, maybe not in the conventional way but it was hard not to have his eyes on you.  "Maybe you have. You're scary but pretty and Mysterious."

"And you are a Stinky noisy dog but not so annoying." Yuji was not offended at this point he had spend enough time with you to know that you didn't hate him so much, now seeing how you tried so hard to insult him was funny.

"Fine Vampira."

You frowned "Dumb."

"Okay, Draculaura."

"You're so funny, Jacob."

He let out a loud laugh "I didn't think you were the kind of girl who liked to watch twilight."

"I didn't like it, I just watched it."

"Oh come on." he pinch your side "Don't lie." You slapped his hand when he tried to pinch you again  "Don't pull out your fangs, pretty!" Pretty. Maybe you liked that, but only a little.

"I'll if you keep it up." now it was you who pinched his side though much harder than he did.

Watching Yuji hunt was definitely a spectacle, He was not wild or violent He killed the prey as quickly as he could, he didn't want to hurt but he knew it was a necessary process. He did not look for the nearest prey he always chose the one that was farthest away, the one for which he would have to run. He was fast, he was agile, it was obvious how much he enjoyed being in his animal form.

After a deer and a few birds He came closer to you, still on four legs. You didn't want his furry ass near to you.

You stepped back and he kept coming closer.

"Don't even think about it." He advanced, you backed away and so on until you hit the trunk of a tree and you had no escape.

His head brushed against your hand, it was obvious what he was looking for, Although you made a disgusted face, he did not move away from you and continued to insiste. Maybe he was softer than you had thought, maybe you started to Pet him.

"Fine, This is not so bad." One then two and then you started scratching his tummy. He was like a big dog, that's for sure. It was hard to not see the smile on your lips and you had to stop because you were about to call him a good boy and giggle. "Enough, I think I'm going to go home now." You got up and picked up your things, but Yuji kept following you.

"Where are you going?" It's not that he was going to answer you but you thought he would take the hint and stop but he didn't. "If I come home smelling like a Stinky dog, it's going to be your fault."

"Why do you smell like shit right now?" It wasn't a surprise, you had already guessed that this would happen.

"Why do you always smell like shit, Toge?"

"Hey! That's definitely not true."

"She's just defensive because she doesn't want us to know about her new wolfie boyfriend."

"He's not even close to being my boyfriend."

"Really? And what have you been doing with him in the forest?" You knew Maki wasn't trying to fight with you, it was just that no matter how hard she tried to deny it, she cared about each of you, she was always like a big sister and even if you were bothered by her interrogations she's just trying to make sure you're going to be okay. "You guys seemed pretty close and today you arrive smelling just like him, it seems pretty weird to me."

You rolled your eyes, You tried not to get angry anymore but it was impossible. "Just don't start, Maki."

"Stay away from him, we're not going to discuss this anymore."

"You don't need to tell me what to do, I'm not stupid."

"Well, you're acting like one." For you that was enough, all you had done was try to get them food and here she was berating you and calling you stupid, You knew what you were doing, you were mature enough not to let anything happen to you.

"And you're not better Maki, stay in line, You have no right over me."

"Fine! But the day he does something to you, don't come crying to me."

"Oh, believe me, I won't."

Notes area:

>Suggestions, comments and feedback are welcome.

>Thanks for reading.

Taglist open

@fairygardenprincesss @luminescent-cow

[dennyzsworld]

FRIEND REQUEST - part one

ian mckinley x popular!fem!reader

cw: some swearing, the ash(s) are lwk mean to ian, some stuff may be time inaccurate but i try my best, set in 2005, reader is just a basic teen girl, small mention of frankie (yuck).

the sun shines in from the big windows in the cafeteria. you were eating lunch with your two best friends. you have been friends with the ash(s) for a few years. and really. they were great friends. even though people paint them out to be stupid valley girls.

“we should like totally get tans for the summer, right?” ashley suggested.

“yes, oh my god we should definitely do that.” ashlyn nodded.

“we could go to like a tanning salon.” ashley said, drinking from her water bottle. “you in?” ashley glanced at you.

“uh. i think i’ll sit that one out. plus, i think i’m just gonna tan naturally.” you smiled.

“careful, girl. you don’t wanna become pale like ian…” ashlyn warned, looking over to one of the tables to see ian sitting alone.

“yeah. that’d be like not good.” ashley chimed in.

you followed ashlyn’s gaze to see ian.

you’ve never really talked to ian. but it’s not like he’s a people person anyway. he’s always alone. either blasting music from his ipod or writing in his notebook.

what was he writing? who knows. probably some poetic shit about death.

but you didn’t like to judge.

“hello?” ashley’s voice cut off your thoughts.

“oh uh. sorry.” you apologized quietly.

“girl, you were practically drooling over ian mckinley.” ashley pointed out. ashlyn just nodded.

“am not! i just…zoned out for a sec.” you clarified.

the pair didn’t look convinced. but they murmured a quick ‘mhm’.

—

hours later, after school you’re just sitting at your desk on your computer. you pull up myspace and see you have a friend request.

a person named ‘zip’ requested to friend you.

you pull up their profile to see some gothic stuff. you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who this was.

it was obvious really.

ian mckinley.

why was he requesting to friend you? but you still hit the accept button.

opening up the chat feature, you began to type.

- hi. : you

it took a couple minutes until you got a response back.

- hello. : zip

- is this ian mckinley?? : you

okay so maybe that was a little too straightforward. but c’mon you just had to know. and you were already certain that it was ian.

he didn’t respond for awhile after that. and you began to worry. did you scare him off?

well, another message came through.

- yeah it’s me. : zip

- sorry..didn’t mean 2 be THAT straightforward lolz. : you

- ur good don’t worry. : zip

- why’d u friend request me? : you

- idk rlly. i was just bored. : zip

y’all talk for about atleast an hour until your parents call you for dinnner.

- g2g. dinner timeee. : you

- cya later. : zip

—

the next day comes and you’re walking through the halls with the ash(s). you’re just zoning off while ashley yaps about some guy she likes. but then you notice ian hanging around the lockers, his earbuds blasting some music.

he glances up at you for a second until looking away.

“speaking of guys you wanna know who i’m sick of?” ashley sighs.

that cuts you out of your thoughts. you turn your head to her and start to listen now.

“frankie cheeks. he’s so weird AND he requested to friend me on myspace.” ashley has a disgusted look on her face.

“oh that’s weird... um, y’know ian requested to friend me.” you mumbled.

the two looked at you with shocked expressions.

“really? ian mckinley. the loner who hates everyone?” ashlyn said, still in disbelief.

you nodded. “yeah…anyways so i kinda accepted the friend request. and i chatted with him.”

ashley’s jaw dropped open. “OMG. did he like start talking about like death or something?”

“no. we actually had a pretty good convo.” a faint smile appeared on your lips.

they continued to look at you like you were crazy. but before they could say anything else the bell rang.

you hurried off to your class, still thinking about ian.

—

the day went on. and honestly you just wanted to get home to talk to ian.

but eventually the school day came to an end and you went home.

walking into your room, you’re at your desk in a matter of seconds. you opened up myspace and went to message ian.

- hiii : you

- heyyy : zip

damn, he answered fast. was he waiting for you to message him?

- i saw u in the hallway 2day, listening to music. what do u listen 2? : you

- mostly british punk. stuff like the sex pistols. wby? : zip

- uhhh i’m basic. i listen to britney spears. : you

- i figured. : zip

- what’s that supposed to mean??

>:( lolz : you

- nothing. u just look like u listen to her. : zip

- fair. : you

you waited for a bit until typing again.

- …y’know ur a lot different than what ppl paint u out 2 be. : you

- really? : zip

- yeah. ur actually pretty cool. : you

- well, hey if u ever wanna hang we could catch a movie or something. : zip

- are u asking me out on a date? : you

- not really a date. just for us to get to know each other better. : zip

- i’d like that : you

- cool. we could go see saw II. : zip

- sounds good to me. what time? : you

- saturday at 8pm there’s a showing. you up for it? : zip

- i’m up. : you

- cool. cya then : zip

[yunhohattyu]

★Mine ★

pairing: professor!yunho x student fem!reader

genre: age fap/ agnst/ forbidden love/ dark/soft romane SUMMARY: Professor Jeong never thought that he would be in love with his student and would admit it..

★ Author's notes: This story was lying around in my draft and that's why I wanted to release it, are they just cuties and lovers here? Read with love! I don't know if there will be a second part…Ask for it and I'll do it :)

The second semester started unexpectedly cold, even though winter was already coming to an end. The university corridors were filled with the rustle of winter coats and lively conversations of students. As usual, you went to couples, glancing at the schedule on your phone. "Modern media and their impact on society" is a new subject that has been added to the program. You almost didn't pay attention to the title, thinking that it would be another boring course with a dry theory. There were a lot of pre-instructors and professors, and you're with your best friend, Wooyoung, as always. You became friends with him from the very first day of school, he had a lot of friends, but he sat with you in class.

"a new semester has started, are you trying to study?" - you said to your friend, carefully arranging the books on the table. "I've always taught, and I've actually asked myself this question," and then you clicked. A tall, handsome man with coiffed hair, wearing a black suit and a turtleneck enters the classroom, it was Teacher Jung Yunho. "so I think you know me… And I'm going to teach the subject of Modern Media and their impact on society, I think we'll get along well, right?- He says, smiling playfully. Wooyoung speaks to you almost in a whisper, leaning towards you. "Have you heard the rumors that almost everyone is drooling over him, have you seen how many girls come to his office?" You look at him with big eyes, slowly turn to him and say, "into him? Into him? Well, he's really attractive, but if necessary, I'll make him mine."

But he clucks and says, -"It's not going to be that easy, he's a teacher y/n, and I think she probably has a girlfriend. "

Teacher Jeong was wearing a black suit and a white shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders, and he was certainly tall. Teacher Jeong sits down and starts getting to know all the students, asking everyone for names and making compliments. Then it's the turn of that girl named "Sol" who you don't like, and you just hate her. "What's your name?"Teacher Jeong asks with his trademark smile , "Sol!" -she shouts, smiling at him, well, you knew she was crazy about him too.

-"you have a beautiful name, it's cute." -He smiled at her, complimenting her, and she quickly replied.: "Thank you Teacher Jeong! You're so cute! You're very handsome, I really like you!" -she smiles at him, and you think you're going to be sick, and you slowly turn to Wooyoung, exchanging glances.

then you don't notice how the queue is coming up to you. -"Ah.. What about you?" -he asks, raising an eyebrow and smiling. but you were sure that he had clearly heard your name at the university. -"y/n" - you say your name, smiling at him falsely -"Oh, that's a beautiful name for you." You can see his eyes moving over you, looking you up and down. -"What's your name?"- He looks at Wooyoung -"Wooyoung"

"I've heard about you… - he says, raising his hand to his chin- "you're the guy who danced there, and I saw you getting caught doing interesting things…"

Well, he wasn't a good and obedient boy. -"Yes, that's right. And if you need help getting a girl's attention, I'm here to give you some advice" -he makes everyone laugh with this answer. -"Oh, yes, of course!" -he says, to the teacher. Then you hear the bell ring, and all the sounds of discontent begin to be heard.

"Okay, it was nice to meet everyone! have a nice day!" -he smiles at everyone, but then you catch his gaze in yourself. his gaze lingers on you for a long time.

From that moment on, every activity turned into a mixture of anticipation and mild tension. Yunho was professional, but sometimes you caught his gaze, which seemed a little longer than usual. You tried to ignore it, telling yourself that it was just a figment of your imagination. But the more time passed, the more the feeling grew that something was subtly changing between you.

You went up to the second floor early in the morning. and you greeted all the teachers with such a bright smile, and walking next to Teacher Jeong's office, you see that the door is ajar, and you see 3 teachers sitting there laughing while drinking a cup of coffee, you come in knocking and leaning on the door saying

-"good morning teachers! Are all my favorite teachers here? - raised an eyebrow and smiled playfully. You see them drinking coffee and eating chocolate chip cookies. and Yunho sees you in a short skirt that makes your thighs completely bare, and today you're wearing a milky-white sweater that shows your collarbones, you've got your hair in a bun today

-"Oh, are you having breakfast? Bon appetit, Professor Choi and Park, and Professor Song and Jeong!"- you smile at them, Professor Choi replies,

"it won't change your grades," - he smiles playfully.

"respond to kindness with kind words, at least!" -you say, pouting.

Then Professor Jeong says to you,

-"Take a cookie, it's very tasty. You like chocolate, right?" -He tells you. -"Oh, if you're offering, then I don't mind," -you say, smiling,when you approach his table, he can smell your perfume, it smells so nice, the smell of It looks like a grenade explosion with feminine warm floral notes of jasmine, freesia and rose, from which Yunho enjoys the fragrance and he's trying to control himself. and you take one cookie, saying thank you. and the other three say, -"thank you for visiting us," -and Yunho also looks at you and says, -"thank you, too, have a nice day," -and you smile as you head for the door and turn abruptly,

-"and yet… don't expect Teacher Jeong's presentation from me today, I didn't have time to finish it," -to which he smiles and shakes his head

When you come out of his office, you're happy. Yunho takes a sip of his drink and sees all three of them looking at him,

-"What? Why are you looking at me?" -Yunho looks at them in surprise, to which Professor Park says,

-"How do you know that she likes chocolate chip cookies?" -he asks, raising an eyebrow, and the others nod.

-"I just saw her eating chocolate, and I thought, what does she like, why?" -"it was just interesting…" -to which the teacher can add, "we'll find out, we'll find out.." -and they start laughing

-----

Teacher Jeong stands at the blackboard and says:

-"bring your presentations, everyone!" -he looks at you, raising one eyebrow. Everyone brings their work to his desk and even wooyoung. -"Sol, was there a girl who didn't study, and now she's making a presentation?" -says Wooyoung.

-"those who have not passed their presentations and are not ready for the lesson, I will give them a low score and, if necessary, I will expel them from the lesson," -he says, but you knew that he would not do it. But he kicked the guy out of the class...

there are days when you catch his gaze on you many times, which looks at you for a longer time than necessary, and this is wrong for a teacher.

You're standing in the hallway and looking at the stairs, there's not even a cockroach in the hallway, but Professor Choi kicked you out of class because you weren't ready for class. You're standing in the hallway like a stray puppy, wishing you'd taken your phone out of your bag.you walk back and forth, looking out the window, and open it, and breathe in the fresh air, and bend over to look down from the window, and Yunho comes up the stairs and sees you bending over, and your skirt is riding up higher and higher. he sighed heavily, and you turn around and see Teacher Jeong coming up the stairs.

He pulls himself together and says,

-"Oh, y/n hi, why are you standing here?" -he's heading your way.

-"Professor Choi kicked me out of class," -you tell him with a frown, looking down.

-"Have you been naughty?" -He tilts his head, reminding you of a puppy.

"i..I just wasn't ready for his lesson! And this Choi, he kicked me out into the hallway," -you roll your eyes. He nodded,

-"if you want, you can sit in my office," -he says carefully.

-"I don't mind!"

You've been sitting for 10 minutes in silence, looking at him filling out the paperwork, you notice that he looks much more attractive now, in his glasses, he was wearing a milky white suit and trousers, with a white turtleneck. you see his cheeks turn pink, and he looks up at you and says,

-"Are you going to look at me for a long time?" -Opening your mouth slightly, you want to answer, but the answer doesn't come to your mind.

-"me…I was just watching.." -To which he shakes his head.he's focused on his paperwork, but one question that's always plagued you is coming out of your mouth,

-" Mr. Jeong.. Do you have a girlfriend?" -to which he laughs softly and says,

"why are you asking?"

"just answer,"

"no, I don't have a girlfriend." -he smiles softly, leaning back in his chair.

-"Ah… What about you?"

"I don't either. I'm not dating anyone right now." And he looks at you intently, and you shake your head.

-"Then… It's strange that such questions come to your mind," -his voice sounded soft but a little wary, as if he was considering every word. He picks up the pen again, but he still doesn't put it down on the paper. His gaze returns to yours,

after the school bell, you leave his office, and he falls back on the back of his chair, sighing heavily and taking off his glasses, and rubbing his eyes, he says "what am I doing" - he tries to get you out of his head, but he can't, your look, your words, he thinks about it, but he doesn't owe him I need to fill out my paperwork now, not think about you.

-----

In the evening, at his office, Yunho rubbed his temples tiredly, looking at the mountain of documents that needed to be filled out. Thoughts were spinning in my head: students, lectures, and regular plans. But all this time, the image of your eyes did not leave him. He tried to concentrate, but it was getting harder by the moment

*the phone rings*

he picks up the phone despite the screen and presses answer "hello" "are you in the office?"- says Professor Song

The knock on his office door was light but steady. Yunho looked up from the monitor, saw you in the doorway, and smiled warmly.

—Oh, hello,— he said, putting down his pen. "How are you?"

— I'm fine, thanks. How are you? — you smiled politely, as you did every time you came here. It has already become a kind of tradition.

"I'm working on the materials for the next lecture," he replied with a light sigh, leaning back in his chair.

You exchanged a few words, but you quickly realized that it was better to leave so as not to distract him. However, when you left the office, you noticed that two female students came to see him a few minutes later. They were giggling loudly, whispering something between them.

The next day, you decided to show him your presentation, but you see that he is in a hurry somewhere and says, "Ah.. sorry, I have to go quickly, I don't have time right now.." "I needed help with presentations… can you give me your number?" _and he writes his number in yours The phone is on, and he talks and leaves quickly.

But in the evening, when you were sitting in your bedroom and racking your brain with your presentation and wondering if you should call Teacher Jeong yourself? But at the same moment, the phone rang and "Teacher Jeong" appeared on the screen

You answered quickly and heard his deep voice…a slightly drunken voice?

"I… you… damn, I can't do this... But I want you to know…" - his words blended together, and you realized that he was clearly drunk, but his voice was getting softer. "You're important to me. I… I thought I could hide it, but… I can't. I'm in love with you. Believe me, I was afraid to admit it… but now… I… I can't keep it to myself."

You were left in complete shock. Those words were so unexpected, and you didn't know what to say. All you wanted to do was figure out what was going on. You were sitting with your phone in your hands, feeling your mouth go dry.

—Teacher Chong… are you… are you sure it's… not from alcohol?" You managed to say, hoping he wasn't joking after all.

He sighed heavily, and you could hear the music in the bar die down.

— I do not know what will happen tomorrow, but now I am telling you the truth. I couldn't say it to your face, but… here. I… you're everything to me, you know? I need you so much… I need you so much right now.

You felt your heart start beating faster. His confession was unexpected, but at some point you realized that his words were not completely alien to you either.

You froze for a moment, trying to process everything you heard. His confession was throbbing in your head, but something inside you didn't want to believe that it was all serious. Then she took a slow breath and dialed the number.

"Yunho, I won't take your words seriously," - you said, feeling something tremble inside. Your voice sounded restrained. - "I think you're just drunk."…

There was a pause on the line. You heard him whisper something to his friends, and his voice suddenly became serious.

"I'm not drunk," he replied softly.- "I just finally decided to tell you how I feel. It's really important to me that you know that."

You were silent for a moment, still thinking about what you had heard. Yunho's voice was warm, but at the same time a little vulnerable...

"Maybe this really isn't the right time." -You continued with restraint. "But you'd better say it sober."

He was silent for a second, and you suddenly felt like his confession still left something in you.

"I get it. I don't know what came over me - His voice became soft, with a hint of sadness. —But know that it's all true.

You were silent again, still tormented by doubts. Thoughts of possible consequences and the fact that he is your teacher popped up in my head.

"Yunho…" - you started, but he cut you off.

"Just… think about it when I'm sober. And now…" - He hesitated, and I could hear him breathing heavily. -"Just know that I meant it.

You nodded back at yourself, even though he couldn't see it.

—Okay, Teacher Jeong,— you replied softly. "I'll be waiting for you to sober up. While.

And you hung up, feeling like this conversation would be playing in your head for a long time.

did he just confess his feelings??!!

nooo, he was just drunk… God, what am I supposed to think!

It's worse than I got two for the semester.

That night, you approached Jongho in the hallway and, deciding not to pretend that nothing had happened, you started telling him about what happened with Yunho the day before. Jongho sat with his mouth open, with an indescribable expression on his face, barely able to contain his surprise and bewilderment.

"It's… it's just…" he was in shock, trying to figure out how such a thing could happen. — Do you even realize that this is your teaching, and he's for you… How is that even?! Did you say something back to him?

You briefly explained what you said to him so that you wouldn't take his words seriously because of his condition, but you still couldn't forget that night and the confession.

"HE WAS DRUNK! That's how we'll keep thinking, or I'll fall into the abyss myself."

The next morning, when you were walking down the hallway, you saw Yunho and Professor Park talking. Quickly gathering yourself, you decided to come over.

— Hello, teachers! Good morning," you said with a slight nervous excitement, but trying to sound confident.

They both answered confidently with a smile.:

— Good morning! Professor Park said, and Yunho tilted his head slightly, his gaze was soft and a little thoughtful, as if he wanted to say something but was holding back.

You quickly walked past him, feeling his gaze on you, which continued to remain somewhere in the shadow of your thoughts. He probably doesn't remember yesterday, or he does..

When you and Jongho came to the classroom, he said with a mysterious expression on his face:

—Listen, let's talk," he said, and you went to the corner, but at that moment the door opened and Yunho entered the classroom.

— The schedule has changed! It's my lesson now, everyone sit down! His voice was confident and his gaze was quick. He walked into the classroom easily, as usual, but there was something different about his behavior today that made everyone in the class freeze.

You felt the tension in the classroom increase as Yunho began to prepare for class. Quickly adapting to the unexpected change of plans, the girls in the class began flirting with him, throwing glances at him and trying to get his attention. Yunho, of course, did not react to this, maintaining his professionalism, but you noticed how he could not ignore these signs of attention.

You sat down at your desk, feeling a strange mixture of curiosity and anxiety, and noticed how Jongho was holding back laughter, watching what was happening. Yunho started the lesson by calmly explaining the material, but his gaze lingered on you a couple of times, as if trying to catch your attention.

A hot, nervous silence hung in the air as soon as he started asking questions. You noticed how everyone's attention was focused on him. He continued to teach, but every now and then he looked at you, and even despite his outward calmness, you could feel the tension between you growing by the moment.

The whole atmosphere of the lesson was intense and full of hidden meaning. You tried not to give in to this excitement and focus on the material, but thoughts of what happened would not let you rest.

When class ended, you left the classroom, but you immediately noticed Sol walking towards Yunho. She was obviously intent on getting his attention, and her gestures were unnecessarily obvious: she touched his arm as if trying to create intimacy. You felt something tighten inside you, and although you couldn't explain exactly why, her behavior hurt you. Perhaps it was jealousy or a misunderstanding of what was really going on. Why are you reacting like that?

You hesitated a little, standing at the door, trying to cope with this unusual feeling. But, gathering all your strength, you took a step forward and, taking a deep breath, approached Yunho.

"Can we talk?" "your voice was quiet, but firm.

Yunho turned to you with a surprised smile. He didn't seem to be fully aware of what had happened yesterday, as if his memory had been partially erased from that day, leaving only a general sense of recent communication.

"Of course,— he said, still smiling, although you noticed that his gaze was a little softer than usual. He nodded and led you away from the rest of the students.

You stopped, and silence fell between you. You felt like your mind was still struggling with the emotions that arose after talking to Sol. Yunho was looking at you, his expression was calmly interested, but you knew that everything that happened yesterday hadn't been resolved yet.

"What do you want to talk about?" His voice was soft, but not too insistent.

You hesitated a bit, feeling like you needed to find the words.

then you try to say everything he said yesterday, but you say, "can we go to your office, I want to tell you one thing…" - he nods, we go to his office.,

You walked in silence, only the sound of your footsteps echoed down the corridor. When you reached his office, Yunho opened the door, went in first, and turned around to look at you.

—Come in,— he said, slightly opening the door wider, inviting you in.

You slowly entered, feeling the tension building up in your chest. He closed the door and you were left alone. You sat on the chair in front of his desk, trying to collect your thoughts. Yunho was standing in front of you, his gaze was serious, but there was uncertainty in it, as if he didn't know what to expect from your words.

You sighed and started talking, trying not to get lost.:

—Yesterday… I sent you a presentation, then you called me and said you didn't want to keep it all inside yourself… and…" you hesitated, trying to find the right words. "You said you fell in love with me, then you said you needed me so much that you needed me right now."…

You stopped for a moment, watching his reaction. His face didn't change, but there was something in his eyes that was hard to understand.

"I just wanted to."..Yes, yes, you were drunk, I didn't do anything like that," you said quickly, raising your hands in surrender

—I understand that this may be a problem," he replied softly, his voice remaining calm, but there was sincerity in it. — And I realize that our communication can create certain difficulties. But I don't want this to come between us.

He paused for a moment, his gaze never leaving you.

— If I lose my job because of this, then that's how it should be. But I don't regret how I feel. I'm willing to take risks if that's what I need. When I started teaching you, you seemed like this to me…because I couldn't help but look at you. Of course, you may think that I'm a pervert or some kind of bastard, but…I really didn't remember that you were my student and that I was here to teach, not to arrange an attitude. But I probably said everything yesterday, though for sure…I don't remember what I said.."

So he was really drunk yesterday

You stared at him, feeling the tension building inside you. His words were confident, but you knew that the consequences of all this could be much more complicated than just feelings.

You sighed nervously, feeling uncertainty creep into your chest. His thoughts were confused… what if he just wanted to have fun and that was it? No. He's not one of those people, and it's clear that he was sincere. You knew that the solution you were proposing would not be easy either, but you gathered your strength and said:

— So… Do you want to date me? But we will do it secretly. I don't want you to get into trouble because of me.… You don't mind? Then I'll be all yours, I promise. If that's what you want, of course.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you looked at him, waiting for his answer. You were afraid that maybe he would think that you were over complicating things, but your words were sincere—you didn't want to cause him trouble.

Yunho was silent for a long time, his gaze was focused, and he seemed to be trying to figure out what you really meant. Then, coming closer, he leaned forward a little and said:

"I don't want you to feel guilty, and I'm willing to keep this between us if that's what you want." We can be careful, and I will make sure that we don't break any rules. And I want you to trust me.

He sighed, as if deciding something in himself, and added:

— But I can't promise that I will hide my feelings. I can't pretend that I don't feel anything. So if you're ready for that, then I'm ready too.

You looked at him, feeling a lump of anxiety tighten in your chest. Your voice was trembling, but you still decided to ask the question that was spinning in your head.:

"You won't regret it?"

Yunho was silent for a bit again, his eyes met yours, and there was something hard in them that made your heart stop for a moment. He stepped a little closer and answered quietly but confidently:

— I don't think I'll regret it. I understand that this may be difficult, but I know that this decision is mine. I want to be with you, and if it leads to problems, I'll be ready to solve them. You're important to me, and I don't want to miss the chance.

You felt a warm feeling in your chest, despite the complexity of the situation. It was a resolute and sincere response that somehow relieved some of your anxiety.

You playfully rolled your eyes, feeling the inner tension ease a little, and slightly frowning, pouted, asking a question.:

"You're like that… So do you want me to be your girlfriend or not?

Yunho smiled slightly when he saw your funny reaction, and there was a sparkle in his eyes. He came closer, his gaze became softer, but still full of determination.

—Of course I want to," he said, laughing a little. "You've been grabbing my attention for a long time." And if you're ready, I'll be glad if you're my girlfriend. My. My Everything.

He came even closer, and there was a slight playfulness in his voice, as if he had also decided to take this step, although he was a little constrained by the whole situation.

"But only if that's what you want, too," he added with a wink.

You pouted, feeling your excitement turn into mild jealousy, and grabbed the back of his head tightly with both hands, looking at him with a flirtatious expression on your face.:

— Of course I want to! But if you walk around and talk to other girls, I'll resent you. Especially if it's Salt! I don't want to miss this chance either.

Yunho laughed softly, seeing your seriousness and a little flirtatious jealousy. He gently placed his hands on yours, which were firmly holding the back of his head, and slightly reached forward.

—I promise I'll be all yours,— he said, his voice soft but firm. — Sol can flirt all he wants, but I'm right next to you, and that's important. You don't have to worry.

He touched his forehead to yours, making it clear that he was serious.

"Should I always call you Teacher Chong?" Or something else?

Yunho thought for a moment, his gaze became soft, and the corners of his lips lifted in a slight smile.

"If you want, you can call me Yunho," he said, touching your arm lightly. —But if it's more convenient for you, you can stay with Teacher Chong." I don't mind-and I whispered in your ear-but I like both because it sounds so hot and coming from your mouth.."

You gently tilted his head, gripping the back of his head tightly with your hands. Slowly, you moved closer to his face, and your lips touched his in a gentle kiss. At first, you felt his body tense slightly, and he didn't immediately respond, his eyes were wide open, clearly surprised. It made your heart beat faster, but you didn't stop.

You clung to him more tightly, continuing to kiss him, gradually more passionately, conveying all your feelings in this kiss. His tension began to ease, and after a moment you felt him responding, his hands gently touching your back. He pulled back to breathe, and at that moment you quickly, almost instinctively, pulled him back to you, gripping the back of his head tightly. You kissed him again, this time even more passionately, feeling like every second you spent with him was important.

The kiss became deeper and deeper, your lips moved with thirst and warmth, and his reactions became more and more open, as if he couldn't stop. Everything that was around was disappearing, leaving only you and him, and this moment that seemed to have been created just for the two of you.

You felt his body tense as you licked his lips, a little invitingly, and at that moment you were barely breathing, waiting for his reaction. He froze, his eyes filled with something deep, and then, without words, he moved even closer, as if he couldn't resist anymore.

He quickly grabbed your head with one hand, holding it tight, and with the other hand pulled you closer, squeezing your waist. His kiss was insistent, hot, and you could feel his hands taking full control, but that was exactly what you wanted—for him to show determination and respond to your feelings.

You could feel his breathing becoming ragged, and your lips were still in unison with his. At that moment, the world around you seemed to disappear, and you couldn't think of anything else but him, how he was pulling you more and more into his world, leaving all the doubts and questions behind.

You pulled away from him, pushing him lightly in the chest, feeling the air return to your lungs. You were breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath, but at the same time you couldn't help but notice how he was standing in front of you, with a worried expression on his face. You noticed how his chest was heaving with heavy breathing, and this only increased your feeling that something much deeper was emerging between you than just a moment of passion.

Do you want the second part? I'll write the second part….I'll think about it!

English is not my native language, so if there are any mistakes, I'm sorry! And I didn't read it last time, so I don't know. Look at this photo and imagine Teacher Chong as he will be when...

okay bye! ^-^

<33!!!!

[0ssak1]

A GENTLEMAN?

pairing: Mohawk!Mark Grayson x Fem!Reader - HS AU

Warnings: profanity, mentions of SA/Rape, and very obviously not proof read

Notes: Authors first time posting a fic/playing with formatting.

“Oh, fuck me..”

You thought to yourself as were sat in afterschool detention even before it started, having being early as you always were. So how the hell were you in there for tardies?

This school had issues. You came early to all your classes and school having to cram doing your makeup and finishing touches to your outfit on your way to school every day. Not to mention you dressed in a more alternative style than the average. And you actually put effort into your outfits.

You tapped your platformed heel on the floor, your cheek cramed into the palm of your right hand. You stared out the window overthinking things.

How did you, a straight A and averaging 4.0 student who never contacted trouble (excluding shit talking with your small group of friends..) end up in here with him?

The boy who sat right next to you was practically made out of metal. From top to bottom, pierced or jeweled. His eyebrows, bridge of his nose, lips, and most probably his tongue. And other areas you didn’t dare think about.

He was dressed in some black loose shirt, layered with a maybe by the looks of it leather jacket, patches sewn onto it. Your eyes drew down to his legs and footwear, then back up to his face—

The two caught eye contact. God, what the hell?!

You looked away, your cheeks flushing the pink color of his lips out of embarrassment.

“You good, sweetheart?” The black haired boy smiled, or more smirked leaning towards you. His hand pressed against the drawn on and fucked wood of the desk, his rings clashing against the boring gold color.

“Sweetheart?! oh the audacity..” You thought to yourself, too scared to let slip out of your tinted lips. “Excuse me?” You shifted back to look at him, his eyes widening, before sinking back down.

“I asked if you were good, sweetheart.” There it was again.

“Do you have any experience whatsoever with women? ‘mean really. It only seems like it’s been girls.”

He stared, mouth agape before it shut into a thin line. You definitely weren’t like those girls he usually tried to bagged.

“Oh you’re different.” He sat up, popping on the t.

“Yeah, I actually have style.”

“I mean your attitude.”

“What at—“

“Quiet!” Called a woman from the front of the room, hearing your whispers arise to a talking stage. You both turned to her almost in sync, him rolling his eyes and turned back to you whilst you nodded to her.

“Right..” He muttered, running his fingers through his mohawk.

“So whats with the fuckass haircut..?” You asked, your tone completely innocent but filled with fierce assholery. Almost like Lucifer and Eve.

“Whats with the clumpy mascara?” So, he shot back—WHAT?!

“Hey! It’s not clumpy!” You scoffed, brushing your finger over your lashes to fix them. Maybe they were.. but that was because you were trying NOT to get hit by a car on your way to school.

“Sure, princess. Keep lyin’ to yourself, yeah?” He muttered, glancing across the room at other people who were looking around either bored, or doing something else. Now taking in the room, it was filled with a bunch of sex ed posters.. hm.

“Riiightt.. just like how you lie to yourself saying all those girls you fuck want you so bad.”

“Says the virgin.”

“I— I am NOT!” Oh yes you were. But honestly, who could blame you? You didn’t wanna loose it to some loser or idiot , like this guy..

“Yknow what? Whatever, how about we.. actually try and be polite.” You sat up, putting out your hand. You had slim, long fingers like your well painted nails. It almost seemed like everything you did was well. Being in advanced classes, being well dressed, impressing mothers…

He stared at you, thinking it was some.. joke. He chuckled, slapping his hand against yours. His rings around his tanned, rougher fingers as they wrapped around yours. He.. dabbed you up.

“I mean’t a handsha—okay, okay, shuttup [READER]..”

He snickered, letting go and instead took your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss. The cold metal of his snakebites against your fingers.

“Mark, by the way.” He looked up, staring into your eyes with infatuation whilst yours stared in disgust.

“[name]..” You mumbled, withdrawing your hand from his grasp. He held on just a little tighter to a unnoticeable point, before letting go and dropping it to his thigh.

“Mm, suits you.”

“…Right.”

You look away from any clock in sight, the glare of someones phone, something in another room, anything.. a guy was staring at you. He kept moving, trying to get a look under your skirt to snap a picture with his phone. You crossed your legs and pulled down your skirt, trying to adjust it.

You shifted uncomfortably, angling yourself behind his chair so the creep couldn’t get a glance at your thighs.

“Run like a girl” the phrase stuck in your mind, about hearing posts of women in all sorts of tragic situations. It always disgusted you, or even that one time your ex-boyfriend said “you’d be/get raped” in a outfit you weren’t showing any skin in..

You zoned back into thought, Mark’s legs turned to cover yours and his torso in a obviously uncomfortable position but only to cover yours. So maybe the asshole had some comfort in him, yeah..? I mean, the obvious looks of your discomfort he picked up on, thank god.

You looked at him, muttering a soft “thank you.” He nodded back, giving the guy the death stare..

Mark leaned back in his seat against you, tilting his head back. “I think we should get outta here, right?” He smirked, his hands laid pressed and enlaced against his chest as if he was some prince..

“Right.” You, finally, smiled back.

With some elaborate “planning” him telling you, you were going to jump out the window of the 2nd floor but he’d catch you and you two would run away to the parking lot, you executed it.

You glanced at the woman sat facing the whiteboard written in thin expo-marker “DETENTION 4:15-5:30” with headphones on, just scrolling on her phone watching Facebook reels and cackling every few minutes. Obviously distracted. You turned back to him or lack of him who was half way out the window, zipping up your bag. You sat on the ledge as he jumped down onto the grass with a groan, leaning against the tree peering up at you.

“Ready, princess?” He smiled.. smiled. Oh you could not fall in love with this guy.. He was just some guy who dressed well..

“You swear to god you’ll catch me?” You peered out the window, sat on the edge with your bag on your lap, about to be slung over your shoulder..

“I swear you can trust me.”

You took a breath to inhale, before slinging your bag over your shoulder and sliding out the window and into his arms.

.

.

.

With the thump, you landed in his arms bridal style with one hand wrapped around your thigh and the other grasping your arm. “I gotcha..” He nodded, holding you for a beat before setting your feet down.

Part 2 at 20 likes <3

Tags:

[thatneoncrisis]

what do you think about the overlap of remmick and john, as two characters who were fucked over by colonial powers just to end up BEING colonial powers

OOOOOOH good question intriguing question i LOVE shit like this thank you

very long going under a readmore

i think the nature of theirs stories have made it so they are both participating in the systems that cannibalized their people, homelands, language and resources, but they go about it differently just bc of scale

remmick is like, one guy. a vampire yes, one who can do vampire hivemind shit, but hes one fucking guy. he was getting his ass beat by those indigenous vampire hunters, the damage he is capable of is on a person to person scale. he actively benefits from white supremacy as he is white passing, theres still lingering anti catholic and immigrant sentiments in the US during the 30s but for all intents and purposes he can "go stealth" in a way john cant he can reap the benefits of exploiting more at risk communities. his goal is also small fries- gluttonous and sadistic yes, but most charitably he wants sammy so he can see his family again since vampires are locked out of heaven

john. has committed a genocide on a scale unknown by man. he then proceeded to ressurrect a fraction of the population, all from his own home country, and then actively gatekeeps or destroys or manipulates any information about the world pre resurrection. his goal is also just blatantly the most petty vindictive shit on the planet. no, it is by no means reasonably to hunt down the distant descendants of people you were mad at, people who literally dont even benefit from the evils committed by those original guys anymore, bc you cannot stand the idea of any of them possibly being happy or alive. ultimately i think john represents a corrosive power fantasy. he has the power and tools to reshape society in any way, and he just replicates the one that actively fucked up the world in the first place. theyre all speaking english, they doing feudalism, the main religion is basically different christian sects, they terrorize non house settlements jsut bc they have the manpower and resources to do so.

i think this is an area wherein the locked tomb being understood as "raceblind" is kneecapping its ability to dig into this sort of shit. race as we understand it is jsut another invention of these kinds of world powers turning people against one another so there can be a steady supply of second class laborers, someone who is lesser than so there is no chance of meaningfully arguing why they do not get to reap the benefits of the imperial core (the people who make that core function in the first place). why do slaves need human rights if they arent human, ect ect. im not saying tlt would automatically be better if like, gideon was literally a slave (shes not, there is a material difference between chattel slavery and indentured servitude), but the way house citizens understand and interact with civilians on other planets is so.

we see it through individual lenses of ideology, pal wants to help everyone on new rho bc he values all life, pyrrha wants to cut and run bc she values the people close to her, crown is empathetic to the suffering of others but still clearly has other priorities. new rho is given to us via selective clips, a literal childs eyes. we understand this is a place with the exploitation of sexual labor, the teachers FIRST THOUGHT upon meeting pyrrha and learning thats not nonas dad is that shes pimping out a girl she thought was 14. this is horrifying, but i always go back to the sixth, where its some great honor to be designated to the informal sex soldiers in their military where they just go out and fuck other bored recruits in the reserves.

its goddamn bonkers when you think about it for longer than a minute- their society is still suffering the slow collapse of dwindling numbers, how long until they expand whos allowed in the gene pool out of desperation? how long until they find its easier to have some desperate non house citizen, wither through material coercion like money or transport, or more insidious means? the cohort has the power- it is The Power, and i dont really believe in a situation where a bunch of dorks raised on huckleberry finn are able to keep this kind of rot from festering. theyre the most morally rigid house, beyond like the eighth or whatever, but they still have child soldiers and use dead bodies for indefinite labor. i may trust palamedes and camilla but i do not trust "the sixth" to be better than the standard john has set. kind of a blessing everything started imploding before they could get to that point, if it hasnt already happened

uh anyway sinnners is more able to blatantly dig into these kinds of dynamics by banking on the audiences existing ideas about racial tensions and communities. the brothers made their club as a safe space for their people, and extended it to people who have already established a bond or face similar treatment. im sure the chows didnt have a place to cut loose in a town like that, id easily buy they were the only asian family there, let alone specifically chinese. it was a space that could recognize those differences but understand what was important, what this would mean to people who really had nothing to look forward to than labor for people who barely consider them human

i think this makes marys mistake sooooooo compelling. shes a white passing woman in a room full of her black friends and acquaintances. she said her mother practically raised the boys, she must be acutely aware of how differently she is treated. she keeps pushing stack about why he didnt pursue her, as if extreme racial violence is something that is easily overcome via the power of love. if he does truly love her, which i think he did, i really would understand the choice to leave her be so both of them arent under scrutiny and, you know, possibly lynched. i think mary is kind of emblematic of liberal dream of a post racial world. where you can jsut plug your ears and say I LOVE BLACK PEOPLE really loudly and then act confused as to why black* people may be apprehensive to a bunch of random ass creepy fuckin hillbillies want to party with them so bad. like remmick tries puling that card too, he chastises them over building a place that is supposed to be "inclusive" but will not allow people who could VERY EASILY disturb that peace inside. he keeps trying to put the ball in their court, prey on them being the better person, when its jsut the fact of the matter that they have no reason to trust his intentions. but mary i feel has this urge to appeal to them, to prove that racial divides arent necessary, money is money ect. and while i dont believe in self segregation as a long term solution, it is quite frankly deeply ignorant of her to keep pressing the issue. and then she gets them all killed. lol. also fun fact i didnt know that was fucking Hailee Steinfeld good lord. *including the chens i have to keep tossing in qualifiers well be here all day

so uh tlt and sinners understand the kinds of drastic shifts in personhood being the product of systematic exploitation and assimilation entails. its monstrous it cannot produce anything only take, recreate, and or eradicate. the slogan "kill the indian spare the child" especially comes to mind, the belief that western ideals and thinking, literature, fashion, language, government and economy are the only true way to be human while anything else is like, a hedonist corruption. something striking that stood out to me was remmick compelling his new congregation to dance with them, forcing them all to step in line to his music, relive his glory, in stark opposition to the earlier scene of them all dancing their own way to the same song with sammy. by contrast john uh. he doesnt even do that. hes kind of united by an identity of being kiwi and not maori. thats the way i read it, everything in his new world IS just neoclassical bullshit. i think about how harrow and gideon dont even know what maori IS as like, a concept. and something that really connects with me as a black american. the people i idnetify most strongly with did not like. exist as a group over 500 years ago. i dont know what it is to be west african, i cant speak the language i dont know the culture ive never set foot on the continent. who would i be if the transatlantic slave trade didnt happen. who would harrow and gideon be if they got to grow up in aotearoa. and thats something that solidifies the divide between john and remmick. remmick can only find ways to manipulate the system in his favor, john just made it that way from the start, to uphold some distant ideal of what he remembered the world to be

i think both stories treat the structures and mechanics of colonization and resource exploitation as a sort of disease that will inevitably eat its host and die. johns empire is not sustainable- he keeps killing planets, keeps displacing their population, his houses have notable population crises, having PAPER is a fucking luxury and their most powerful members are quite literally fueled by death- what happens when theyre out of people to die. rimmick is a vampire, it is very notable that vampires arent like zombies, theyre not brainless they cannot afford to turn the majority of people on earth into them or they fucking run out of food. what remmick was doing, not just killing those people but explicitly converting them, puts more and more strain on his ability for each on of them to survive if they ept multiplying at that rate. would they have stopped once remmick got sammy? whos to say. i sure as hell dont believe him

[notavolya]

Invincible AU where nothing changed but Conquest were sent to Earth instead of Nolan (and he didn't conquer the Earth instantly).

[thousandyearphantombunker]