#they get out a notebook. they write down a question. they answer the question. we talk about it. math happens.

[anginophobia]

𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞

𝕊𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤: It's the same thing every day. The same dream. The same words, but you can never know who it is or who it was talking to you in your dreams.

How long before you can find your answers?

𝕋𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: smut, pinning, mentions of groping, Sol's thoughts

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 7,157

𝕊𝕠𝕝 𝕩 𝔽𝕖𝕞!ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

𝟙𝟠+ !!ℕ𝕆 𝕄𝕀ℕ𝕆ℝ𝕊!!

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: ℙ𝕃𝔼𝔸𝕊𝔼 ℝ𝔼𝔸𝔻: If I'm being honest, I have no clue how to write smut, never really done it without it sounding weird so I'm sorry if it's a bit weird to read or something. I usually try to get smut scenes from books or movies tbh. I usually write in a google docs first and didn't realize that I wrote 16 pages already from just one fanfic.

Also one of the longest fanfics I wrote.

Please, enjoy. Don't forget to leave criticism if you see fit lol. I'll defiantly need it.

You’ve been having this dream. The same dream every night you sleep. It’s nothing bad, just strange, weird, but you don’t know why you’ve been having it, but you couldn’t stop thinking about it when you wake up.

In the dream, everything is blurry, and you're laying down on the ground, the grass blades tickling your skin. There’s someone there with you, hovering over you, too close to comfort. His face was blurry, unrecognizable. You’ve never seen him before. Who is he? Was he someone you knew? You couldn’t tell. You could feel his fingers caressing your cheek gently, as if afraid he’d break you if he’d press harder. His fingers felt cold against your warm skin. Why was he so cold? When he spoke, his voice sounded muffled, like a thick mask was covering his mouth or something, but he’d always say the same sentence to you.

“Soon, Pumpkin. We will be together. Forever.”

Then, you felt soft lips on your forehead or temple, sometimes even on your chest; right over your heart. It was a strange dream, a dream you've been having for months now. No matter how hard you tried to remember who it was, you couldn't remember. It frustrated you.

You've mentioned it to Brittany one day, when she dragged you with her to go on a shopping spree. She only looked at you with a slight concerned look before shrugging it off, mumbling how weird that was. And you hadn't mentioned it since then.

Since you could only remember certain things in your dream, you started to draw your dream. Each time you drew it, it was a little different each time, drawing his hair short to long, trying to decipher the clothes he'd wear, trying to remember how his voice sounded. The drawings had helped a bit, but not enough.

You wanted to keep drawing, to try your best to remember as much as you could. And where better than the library? You held your bag’s strap on your shoulder as you walked to the library to spend your lunch there, exhausted from the day already. You hadn't had a chance to draw since this morning when you woke up.

You made your way to the library, being quiet so as to not disturb the others who were studying. You hurriedly walked to your usual spot, a table in the back corner of the library, a place you claimed when you started here at this college. Not many people are usually around the back surprisingly enough, which was perfect for you. You'd rather be away from people than be near them. As you made it to the table, you found someone already sitting in your spot. How dare he!

You huffed, annoyance invading the pit of your stomach. You didn't have time to deal with him. So, instead of asking him to move, you took the empty spot next to him, setting your bag down beside your chair after taking out your composition notebook and pencil. The guy next to you looked up from the book he was reading, raising an eyebrow in a silent question and curiosity, but didn't say anything, just watched you settle in your new temporary seat.

You opened your notebook to a blank page, grabbing your pencil to start your sketch. It was silent for the whole time you were in the library, occasionally feeling someone watching you, but it didn't deter you from what you were doing. You drew and drew, groaning softly when you didn't get something right, tearing page after page, crumpling the pages to throw away later.

When the bell ranged, signaling that lunch was over, you sighed, closing your notebook and stuffing it back in your bag before hurrying to get out of the library, not noticing how the guy with green-streaks next to you opened his mouth to say something. He watched you leave, cursing at himself softly from not saying anything earlier before you scrambled to get away. He sighed softly, leaning against the table, staring at the door you had left from.

“Soon, my darling, we shall meet soon.” He mumbled softly to himself, despite you already disappearing from him.

You made it to your art class on time, surprisingly, walking quickly to your seat by the window. You settled in your seat, leaning on your hand and looking out the window. You were feeling frustrated with yourself that you couldn't remember the dream. Whatever you sketched just felt… wrong. Like there was an invisible barrier in between you and your dream. It sucked.

As class began, you could feel someone staring at the back of your head, almost the same feeling you had in the library with the guy next to you. You turned back slightly, trying to see who it was, but unable to find who the culprit was. You tried to shake off the feeling, just turning back around and drawing circles on the desk with your index finger.

You didn't really pay attention to whatever the teacher was spewing about, you only started paying attention when some of the students were getting up from their seats and moving around. You quickly got up when one of the students needed your desk. You stood close to the back corner of the classroom, looking around. Seems like everyone has a partner.

Or almost everyone.

You saw someone sitting in the far back, a book in hand, not moving to get up. You tilted your head slightly to get a better look at him. He was the guy that had sat in your seat in the library! You watched for a moment, seeing if he was going to move. When he didn’t, nor did anyone go near him, you took the opportunity to go over to him. You held your bag’s strap tightly, mentally preparing yourself for socializing. You stopped at the empty desk, staring at him, waiting for him to notice you. For a moment, it looked like he didn’t notice you, until he looked up from his book a bit, keeping the book in his hand. He mumbled something to himself, though you couldn’t hear him, and then he spoke up.

“You seem a bit lost there.” You pushed the urge to roll your eyes at him, wanting to be at least slightly pleasant. Just slightly. 

“Do you have a partner?” You asked, making yourself look bored of this “conversation”. He looked away from your gaze, and for a moment, it looked like he wouldn’t answer. You debated just leaving this poor sap to his own devices before he spoke again, still avoiding eye contact.

“... No.” His voice was low, almost as bored as you.

“Great. We’re partners.” You said, taking your seat next to him. He stiffened as you sat down, eyes slightly wider than before, surprised by your boldness to just sit next to a random student and to declare partnership without even asking him his thoughts. Not that he minded it of course, but you didn’t know or seem to care about it.

You put your notebook and pencil on the desk, opening your notebook to another blank page, though you didn’t really feel like drawing anymore, discouraged by your previous attempts at the memory game from your dream. You crossed your arms over the desk, laying your head on your arms, not even knowing what you were supposed to be doing. Great job for not listening, now you're with a complete stranger without an ounce of knowledge of what you need to do. You looked over at his paper, seeing just his name on the top right corner.

Sol. That sounds like a name you’ve heard, but where have you heard it? Not even able to remember where you’ve heard that name, you sat up again, making the guy, Sol, flinch slightly. You looked at him, your head in your hand, leaning on the desk. He looked a bit scared, but for what? You had no idea. Maybe he was a scardy cat. It seems fitting for him.

“So… Sol, right?” You asked, even though you already knew his name. His red orange eyes seemed to light up from your question, almost like he was getting excited that you knew his name.

“You… know who I am?” He asked cautiously and slowly, like it was hard for him to even get the words out. You pointed to his paper, pointing out that he had just written the answer to your question.

“I just read your name, since you’ve written it.” You answered, seeing his expression falter from the realization.

“Oh… right. Yes, I’m Solivan Brugmansia, but I prefer Sol.” He explains, looking back at you again, his expression back to the nonchalant stoic look. Must be his signature look. You nodded, fidgeting with your pencil.

“Right, Sol. To be totally transparent, I have no clue what we—” You waved a hand in between you and him. “—are supposed to be doing.” He raised an eyebrow at you, seemingly not impressed by your lack of social awareness.

“Why not? The teacher explained it a few times.” He retorted back, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning on his desk. You looked away from him, lightly tapping your pencil on the desk.

“I… wasn't really paying attention.” You said softly so only he could hear, not that anyone was even listening. He tried to hide the small smirk that was trying to appear, grabbing his sketchbook and pencil instead.

“Our project is about expressionism.—” He pointed to your face, seeing your slightly tired and bored expression. “—Like the expression you're making now. It's so cute.” He mumbled the last part to himself, but you heard it. The corners of your mouth quirked up slightly, trying to hide the smirk that threatened to appear. You raised an eyebrow at him, leaning slightly closer to him. He leaned slightly back, trying to create a bit of distance.

“You think my face is cute?” You asked soft enough to make him nervous again, tilting your head just enough to make his face burn hot. He looked away quickly, covering half of his face with his sketchbook to hide his reddening face.

“I-I was talking about the look or.. expression you had, but… your face is c-cute too…” He stuttered out, his grip on his sketchbook tightened slightly. Your eyes tracked the movement, looking at how he was holding it tightly like his life depended on it. You didn’t question it, but it made you feel weird, but not enough to find it strange.  He’s not doing anything wrong, right?

You turned away from him, picking up your pencil to start drawing him. “I’ll draw you first, you can pose however you want to.” You said, grabbing your notebook from the desk to hold it to draw better. He opened his mouth to interject, but the look you gave him made him shut his mouth and set his sketchbook down, letting you win the “argument.” He crossed his arms over his chest, sitting slightly slouched, sitting surprisingly very still. You started sketching him, your eyes looking at your work, occasionally glancing back at him, making sure you were drawing the lines correctly and having the right amount of shading.

Sol looked… handsome. His hair looked messy and also well put? Like he tried to make it look good but then gave up halfway but still somehow ended up good. He had dark circles under his eyes that made him look mysterious, and also sleep deprived. Does he ever sleep? He had two black piercings on one side of his lips, the light shining on them dimly, making it look like he had a slight pout. He was cute, but it's not like you'd admit it to him, he was a stranger to you. At least that's what you thought. But you did like his aesthetic, you should ask him after where he gets his clothes.

He felt his face heat up from your wandering eyes, turning his head to the side in hope that he could hide his reddening face from you. You chuckled softly from his slight embarrassment, finding it cute. He really was cute. 

“Is something the matter?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and looking back at his portrait, close to being halfways done by now. You heard him clear his throat, shifting slightly in his seat. God, he felt like he was burning on the inside. Why did you have to stare at him like that? Didn't you know what it did to him?

“I just… I'm not used to having someone stare at me… like that.” He finally said, his voice softer than it had been before. You hummed softly in response, doing a few touches on his hair.

“It's not always a bad thing when someone looks at you. Maybe I was just admiring the way you look.” You said, not sparing a glance at him as you continued your sketch. He blinked, his composure faltering slightly by your words. He swallowed hard before speaking, still trying to figure out if what you said was real or just in his head.

“You were… admiring me?” He asked gently, too softly, like if he spoke any louder, the world might shatter around him, taking you with the world. Your hand halted it's sketching long enough to look up at him, the side of your mouth twitching slightly to hold back a smirk. You stared at him for a moment longer before looking back at the sketch, but not moving to continue.

Finally, you spoke after what felt like an eternity to Sol. “Who wouldn't? Your style is cool and your face.. Well, it's cute. And your eyes…”

“My eyes?” He asked softly, his arms over his chest slowly lowering as you continued. You looked at him again, fully putting your notebook down, giving him your full attention.

“They're beautiful, Sol. I don't think I've met someone with your kind of eyes. And those dark coloring under your eyes make them even more mesmerizing.” You said, your voice sincere and light, the corner of your mouth lifting slightly in a somewhat smile. His heart felt like it could explode in his chest by your compliment on his eyes. Slowly, he raised a hand to his face, his fingertips touching his eye bags, right under his red orange eyes. No one had ever complimented his eyes, if they did, they never sounded sincere to him. He stared at you, unable to look away.

You looked away before you could notice the way his eyes softened, the way his hand gripped his shirt over his heart, the way his white pupils were dilated slightly and were heart-shaped.

“You have the most beautiful eyes too, my darling.” He whispered softly, too softly for you to hear him, preoccupied with trying to finish his portrait.

The rest of the class was quiet, neither of us saying anything as I tried to finish. When class was over, Sol tried to have a peek at your work, only for you to poke his forehead back with your finger, pushing him slightly back away from looking. He huffed but let it be until next time. Out in the hall, you both exchanged numbers, for the project, of course. You waved goodbye and went on your way to go home, back to your dingy apartment—alone.

While walking back, the streets grow darker each fifty steps you took. You could feel a pair of eyes on you, watching you. It made you feel uncomfortable to the point where you started to walk faster, hoping to get home before anything bad could happen.

You made it back to your apartment in one piece, shutting the door hard behind you and locking the bolt, surprised that it had worked this time. Hopefully it won't get stuck like last time.

You made your way through your apartment, dropping your bag down by the couch with a sigh, heading to your bedroom. You checked the time on your nightstand; 5:34 at night. You sighed, grabbing a few clothes to take a nice long hot bath, something you deserved after a long taxing day. You stripped off your clothes as you walked to your bathroom, closing the door behind you, turning on the hot water on and letting the water rise in the tub a little more than halfway before getting in and sighing softly as the water hit your skin. It felt nice. So very nice. So nice that after only thirty minutes in the tub, you started to fall asleep in the tub. It wouldn't hurt to rest your eyes, would it?

While you were resting your eyes in the tub, unbenounced to you, someone was in your apartment, climbing slowly into your bedroom, the lock broken for a while now that you hadn't even noticed.

Sol was wearing all black, pulling his mask down long enough to breathe the scent of your room, shuddering softly from the smell, delighting in your floral and citrusy, almost like lemon and what… daisy? Or maybe Roses? He couldn't tell, he'll need to see your perfumes so he could buy some. He would just yours if he could, but then you'd be upset if you thought you lost it. He didn't like that thought.

Slowly, he walked out of your bedroom, making sure that you weren't coming out of the bathroom any time soon. He went into the hallway of your small apartment, already halfway in the kitchen and living room at the same time. He stepped into the kitchen, carefully opening the fridge, checking to see if he could find anything. Finding a half empty gallon of milk, he decided to use that. Either that or water from the tap.

He grabbed the gallon of milk from the fridge, setting it softly on the counter and opening the lid. He reached into his pocket, taking out a small bag of crushed up sleeping pills, given by his best friend Hyugo. This was nothing new for Sol. He did this almost every night when he didn't have his “work.” It always excited him seeing you asleep with him near, unaware of him watching you, how he'd stroke your hair softly and nibble on your neck, and completely unaware of how he'd sometimes use your hand to stroke himself till he finished or how whimper to the feeling of your breasts in his hands as he dried humped you into oblivion as you slept. He wondered where Hyugo had gotten pills strong enough for me to be kept asleep through all that.

He poured the powder in the milk, pouring half of it instead of all of it this time, closing the lid of the milk and shaking it just enough to mix the drug and milk, putting it back in the fridge. He decided to look around, he had time, right?

He slowly walked in the living room, looking around at the pictures you've hung up and the books you've placed carefully on your bookshelves. In all the times that he has been in your apartment, he has never been in your living room, mostly in your bedroom or kitchen. He took in your old couch, your TV that seemed slightly too small, the color of your walls. He liked it. He could see himself here all the time, being with you, watching TV with you, cuddling on the couch, just anything to be near you. He heard a soft click of a door opening, and in a panic he fell onto the floor, hidden by the couch. He peeked over the corner of the couch, seeing you in nothing but a towel that hugged your body very well. Too well. He swallowed hard as you walked into the kitchen, running your fingers in your semi wet hair.

He watched you open the fridge and take out the milk, assuming that you were getting a glass of milk. As much as he wanted to stay, now was the time to go while you were distracted. He moved slowly, crawling on the floor to your bedroom, making sure you didn't notice him. Once in your bedroom, he quickly got up from the floor, already heading to the window, but then he heard your soft footsteps, heading towards your bedroom. He looked around, his heart racing in a panic, trying to find a place. 

His eyes landed on your closet and he scrambled to get there on time, opening it just enough to slide in and sit in the dark, closing the door softly and sitting in the far corner so he wouldn't be spotted. He looked through the little horizontal holes in the closet door, watching, waiting.

Finally, he spotted you walking in your room, holding a glass half filled of milk, hearing your soft sigh, exhausted by the day. He watched you place the milk on your nightstand and take off your towel, tossing it on your bed for a second as you looked in your drawer. He gasped softly, unable to believe that he was watching you strip!

Of course, he has seen you without clothes before, usually either without a shirt or pants, but fully? Only in his wet dreams. He swallowed again, his eyes roaming over your body, at least of what he could see. He felt his pants tightening nonetheless. Your closet smelled of you, it was almost too much for him.

He watched you put on clean underwear, they looked to be a pastel green with a small tiny darker green bow just on the panty waistband. Green. His favorite color. He bit his bottom lip at the sight, imagining all sorts of things he shouldn't be. Not when you barely knew him for a day! But he has known you for what felt like years. It was years.

He leaned back against the wall, placing a hand over his mouth as you made your way over to the closet, opening it and tossing your used towel in the towel—right on his head, the towel covering his face. He didn't make a sound as you grabbed a shirt from your closet and closed it, unaware of the peeping tom in your closet.

He stayed quiet, listening, hearing your soft footsteps, the sound of the light turning off, the sound of you climbing into bed. He waited, his heart pounding in his chest. After what felt like hours, it was really only ten minutes, he raised his hand and took off the towel from his head, bringing it to his nose, and inhaling. Oh God, your smell was addicting.

He shuddered softly, closing his eyes and inhaling the smell of the towel again. The towel was still slightly wet and warm from your body heat. He loved it. He groaned softly in the towel, his hand grabbing the end of the towel and started to rub it against his hard bulge in his pants, unable to take the tightness of his pants.

His thoughts of you filled his mind as he leaned his head back on the wall, groaning softly into the towel, biting down so he wouldn't be too loud. He thought of his hands on your chest, the feeling of your nipples hardening in between his fingers, squeezing enough to make you moan in painful pleasure. He thought about his fingers going down in between your thighs, feeling your wetness and moving his fingers along your folds before slipping them inside you, hearing you moan for him.

He rubbed the towel faster, moving his hips slowly, humping the towel through his jeans, imagining it was you. He felt hot in his clothes, his breathing becoming ragged in the towel, biting down hard enough to hurt his spider bites.

His bangs clung to the sweat of his forehead that was starting to form, his cock aching in his pants. He wanted more, needed more. He rubbed the towel faster on his bulge, inhaling the towel scent again, whimpering softly into it. He was close, so very close, and his imagination wasn't helping him. His hips moved against the towel more, chasing his release.

He opened his eyes long enough to slightly look through the closet holes, to faintly see your body on your bed, sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of his presence in your closet, rubbing himself on your used towel. Seeing you sleeping and unaware did something to him, like it always did. He groaned again in the towel, his pants suddenly feeling warmer.

He panted softly, catching his breath from the intense sensation of his cum in his pants. It wasn't the first and he knew it wouldn't be the last. He used the towel to try to clean his mess in his pants, at least the outside of it.

He tossed the towel aside, contaminated by his own fluid and opened the closet door slightly, making sure everything was quiet before crawling out, slowly getting up from his hands and knees. He slowly tiptoed to the window, staying quiet. As he reached the window, he couldn't help but steal another glance at you. Oh, how beautiful you looked as you slept, the blankets half on you and half off your body, sleeping on your side facing him.

He knew it was a risk, but he couldn't help himself. He was completely wrapped around your finger without you knowing. He cursed himself softly before stepping closer, kneeling down on his knees next to your bed, placing a hand softly on your bed, next to your face. His eyes scanned your sleeping expression, his lips parted slightly, his eyes darting from your closet eyes, your nose, then your lips. One kiss wouldn't hurt, right?

He licked his lips, cupping your face ever so gently and slowly leaning in, closing his eyes. His lips brushed against yours softly, as if afraid that he'd hurt you from a simple kiss to the lips. He pressed his lips slightly more on yours, relishing in the soft kiss. His hand from your face slowly moved down, his fingertips touching your jawline lightly. He moved his lips down, kissing your chin softly. He couldn't stop even though he should, but he didn't want to.

You hummed softly, feeling someone kiss you in your dreams. It was enough to wake you. You opened your eyes slowly, still groggy, but clearly seeing a figure in front of you. That alerted you. You jolted up, a scream leaving your throat as you tried to move away from the sudden person that was kissing you. Before your scream could even end, Sol grabbed your wrist and used his other hand to cover your mouth, scattering to make you stop screaming, and his sudden movement to get on top of you didn't help.

You screamed in his hand, your eyes wide as they adjusted to the darkness, finding Sol shushing you softly, panic in his red orange eyes.

“Shh, it's ok, please stop screaming.” He whispered to you, panic laced in his voice, panting softly from adrenaline and the rush of being caught by you. Your heart was racing in your chest, your eyes locked onto his, unable to look away. “I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to scare you.” He continued, his face apologetic and tone filled with guilt, but he didn't move to get off you. He swallowed hard, trying to control his uneven breathing.

“If I let go of your mouth, will you promise to not scream?” He asked softly, hoping you wouldn't scream at him again. You made no move to show that you wouldn't scream, but you averted your gaze from his, clearly thinking over his hopeful question. You looked back at him and nodded.

Slowly, he removed his hand from your mouth, his hand slightly shaky. He waited for you to scream, to do anything. But you didn't. You were just breathing softly, your eyes still wide from confusion and maybe irritation. Sol couldn't tell. He didn't move to get off you, but he let go of your wrist, staring down at you, mesmerizing you, the feeling of you under him.

“Sol… how did you get in?” You asked softly, finally speaking to him. You remembered locking the bolt door when you came home that evening, and there wasn't any other way to get in. Not that you knew of.

“The… window.” He replied softly, raising a hand and pointed to the window with the broken latch. You blinked, surprised that your window was broken. “How?” You asked. Such a simple question, right? Not for Sol. He swallowed hard before answering.

“I… broke it. A while ago.”

“Why?”

“To get in… since you lock your door sometimes.”

You were stunned by how honest his answers were, they left you speechless even. Sol wouldn't lie to you, he never would and never will.

“Why did you do that, Sol?” You asked softly, afraid of the answer. He didn't hesitate when he answered, almost eager to answer your questions.

“Because I love you, and I can't help myself… I wanted to be near you, to be with you. I love you, pumpkin.” 

You blinked, registering the nickname he called you. The same nickname that had been torturing you in your dreams. “... What?” You asked, your voice soft, too soft.

“I love you-”

“Not that. What did you call me?” You interrupted him, not registering that he just confessed he loved you, but solely focusing on the nickname. His brows furrowed slightly from your interruption.

“Pumpkin..?” He said, almost like a question rather than a statement. Pumpkin. Yes, indeed the same nickname in your dreams.

“Sol… how long have you been… visiting me at night?” You asked, needing to know, desperate for the answer.

“A while. Months. So long.” It was… almost an answer. But it was an answer enough for you. The dream you've been having for months. It was his fault. Sol’s fault. Whispering to you in your sleep that you'll be together forever with him. But you didn't know him, or at least you didn't think you did.

“Who are you?”

“Your soulmate.”

Sol didn't hesitate when answering, almost like he had been practicing that response. Your eyes narrowed on him, thinking over his response. Was he dense? Convinced that you were meant to be his? Where was the chapter you missed in finding a soulmate?

“I don't know you-”

“Oh, but you do. You know me.” Sol grabbed your hand gently and placed it on his chest, over his heart, his eyes bright in the dark. “You know me, you just… you just forgot, that's all. It has been a while since we last spoke.” He continued, his voice filled with hope. Your brows furrowed at his response, clearly not convinced. 

He continued.

“The first time we met was special to me. We had the same class together, our first semester of English class, creative writing to be exact. We had to write about what we wanted for the future. It was just us two in the class, everyone had gone off to lunch. You came up to me and asked me if I figured out what I wanted.”

His grip on your hand tightened slightly, his face slightly closer than before to yours. He continued.

“I said no, I didn't know what I wanted to do with my future. And then you took my paper and pen, writing something down. Do you remember what you wrote?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. You shook your head, unable to answer his question. He smiled sadly but continued anyway.

“‘One day, Sol and I will be married.’ Married. You looked at me with such a cute and wide smile, I thought my heart stopped completely. You looked so beautiful then, and you're so beautiful now.” He let go of your hand and cupped your face with both of his hands, his eyes pleading with yours. “Do you remember?” He asked softly again, hoping that you would remember.

You swallowed, trying your best to remember. You sorta remember something of the sort. All you really remember was helping someone out with a paper that was blank. Was it Sol? It could've been, but to be honest, you were busy your first year at the college, everything was a blur. But you did remember those eyes in your dreams and in the past.

“Your eyes. I remember your eyes.” You finally responded. Sol let out a sigh of relief, at least you remembered something from the past. Without a warning, he closed the gap in between you, his lips crashing into yours. You stiffened under him, not expecting that. His lips moved against yours slightly, unable to help himself. When he pulled away, he looked at you, adoration in his eyes. He looked… lovesick.

“I love you. So very much, and you even remembering my eyes means so much to me. We were meant to be, we are soulmates, even in your dreams.” You blinked at his words, taken aback by his knowledge about the dreams.

“How did you..?” You faltered, unable to finish your sentence. He just chuckled softly, kissing the corner of your mouth gently.

“Did you know you talk in your sleep?” He whispered softly to you, his nose grazing your cheek. You felt your face get hot, clearly not knowing that information about yourself. “And those lovely drawings you never finish, I'm flattered you tried to draw me.” He pulled away enough to see your expression, unable to hide the pleasure he got from seeing how shocked you were.

“You looked through my notebook?” He nodded, clearly pleased with himself.

“We are perfect together. We draw each other, dream about each other. We need each other.” He said softly, his thumb grazing your cheek softly, slowly moving down to your lips, feeling the softness of them.

“Please… let me love you. Let me show you that we were made for each other.” He pleaded softly, looking at you expectantly. You stared at him in disbelief. That is crazy! Who would be crazy enough to let someone love you to prove that you were soulmates?

Well, you just might be. You did dream about the fucker. His words, his touch, maybe this was a dream as well. What could hurt?

You leaned in, kissing him softly, your eyes closed as you kissed him. He instantly melted into your kiss, cupping your face and deepening the kiss, his lips moving against yours. You placed your hands on his chest, feeling his heart racing hard against his chest.

You tilted your head to the side, opening your mouth for him, your arms moving to wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss. He groaned in your mouth, his hands starting to roam your body, from your chest to your sides down to your thighs. He lifted you slightly so that he was sitting up on your bed, and you were on his lap now. His hands were warm on your exposed thighs, squeezing just enough to make you whimper softly against his lips. He pulled his mouth away from yours, trailing soft yet desperate kisses down your jaw to your neck, almost like a starved man in desperate need of you in his hands and in between his teeth.

You leaned your head back, accepting this, despite only knowing him for half a day, and yet it sorta felt like you knew him for a while in a way. Like your body knew his touch yet your mind didn't. His hands moved from your thighs, his fingertips going under your shirt, as if silently asking for permission. Not like he needed it, he had already felt your body in his hands, but it was only polite.

In a silent response, you moved your hands, allowing yourself to take off your shirt, tossing it aside, almost completely naked, saved for your pastel green underwear. Sol’s pants felt tight, too tight. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close enough to him that he captured one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue swirling around your peaked nipple. You let out a soft moan, your fingers digging into his hair. You could feel his bulge pressing against you in between your legs, feeling his need.

One of his hands was on your lower back, the other on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him, desperate for your touch, your warmth. He couldn't get enough. He wanted more. He let go of your nipple with a soft wet sound, the hard peak wet from his saliva as his mouth found its way to your neck, his teeth biting down on your neck, earning a muffled whimper from you.

“You're so warm.” He mumbled softly against your neck, one hand moving downwards, his fingers slipping past the waistband of your panties. He needed to feel you. He couldn't stand not touching you. His fingers rubbed against your folds, feeling the wetness that was already growing there. You gasped, only for it to be muffled by Sol’s lips, kissing you deeply as his fingers rubbed your clit, swallowing your moans and whimpers.

“So wet.”

His middle finger slipped inside you, making you gasp softly against his lips. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards from the sound, encouraging him to continue. Slowly, he pulled his finger in and out of you, hearing the soft moans you were letting out. He added another finger, slowly stretching your cunt out in an almost loving way.

“So tight.”

You moaned as his fingers curled inside you, curling just at the right spot. You couldn't take it anymore. With the use of your hands, you pushed him down onto your bed, straddling him, his fingers still inside you but they stopped, making you pant softly from them. You looked down at him, unable to take it anymore. You needed him.

You started moving against his fingers, starting to ride his fingers with purpose, unable to stop yourself. He groaned softly, watching you move on him, using his fingers to get off. You were getting close, too close. You needed him. Desperately.

You grabbed his wrist, pulling enough to take his fingers out of you, your wetness dripping off his fingers and into the palm of his hand. You unfastened his belt, not wanting to slow down or stop. That was until he spoke up.

“P-please be gentle! I-I haven't…” he stopped himself, making you stop and look at him, panting heavily, staring at him, waiting for him to continue. He didn't, his cheeks flushed and red, his eyes not looking into yours.

“You haven't what?” You asked finally, breathless. He didn't know if he should continue, not sure on how'd you'd react. He swallowed before looking at you, embarrassment on his face.

“I haven't.. done this before.” He whispered, almost too soft for you to hear. But you heard it. You blinked.

“What?”

The tip of his ears were pink, his face hot as he looked up at me, his face mixed with embarrassment and seriousness. “I have never.. done this. Sex.” He repeated, his heart racing in his chest.

“You're a virgin?” You asked without thinking. He nodded, averting his gaze from yours, not wanting to see any disappointment in your eyes. But there wasn't. To be honest, it sorta made things more… special? You didn't know, but it made you feel something.

“Is that… a bad thing?” He asked softly, meeting your gaze once more. You leaned down and kissed him softly, your hand unzipping his pants. He gasped softly, feeling your fingers go into his pants, touching his boxers.

“No, it's ok. I'll be gentle.” You said softly, your fingers going into his boxers, touching his hard length. He groaned from the feeling of your hand on his cock, wanting more.

He helped you slide his pants off, his cock springing free from his pants and boxers. The size of him was… impressive. It makes your mouth dry up from the thought.

“Does it… look bad?” He asked, worried that it wasn't to your liking. You shook your head, your hand wrapping around his length, earning a soft hiss from him.

“It looks… delicious.” You whispered to him, kissing his lips softly as you moved your underwear to the side enough to rub the tip in your wet folds, your tongue prying his mouth open, your tongue swirling around his.

You positioned yourself on him before lowering yourself, hearing him gasping against your mouth, his hands gripping your hips like his life depended on it, feeling your walls slowly engulfing around him. He couldn't help it as his hips rolled up into you slightly, needing to feel all of you. You moaned, placing your hands on his sides to make him stop moving his hips.

He whined softly in protest, looking up at you with desperate eyes. You waited, sitting fully on him. It was his first time, so you'll need to be gentle and slow at first.

You started moving on him, your hands moving to his chest, gripping his shirt he was still wearing. He whimpered, his fingers digging into your hips, helping you slowly lift up and back down on him. You moved like that, hearing his soft whimpers. He moved his hips occasionally, urging and pleading for you to go faster, to move on his harder. He sat up slightly, his mouth finding your chest, kissing and sucking gently, his hands moving to your sides.

“P-please, pumpkin… use me, take whatever you desire from me—nnnh..–please..” He pleaded, looking up at you with those red orange eyes, like how a puppy looks at its owner. It was too much. How could you deny someone's begging when they're so cute?

You started moving faster, wrapping your arms around his neck, rolling your hips in a way that made him moan loud, burying his face in your neck to silence himself. His hands gripped your back and skin, pulling you closer onto him, making himself go deeper.

It felt like bliss, the way he moved inside you, how he gripped you like you were his lifeline, groaning and whimpering, muttering words of pleas to love him and to never leave him, not like you were listening, too wrapped up in the feeling of his cock twitching in you deep.

It felt great, too great. For both of you. The air mixed with sweat and whispers of Sol’s love confession and moans.

Even after the heated air cooled down, with Sol in your arms, limbs wrapped with limbs. You still didn't understand what convinced Sol that you were made for each other, or even why he started being in your dreams. But a part of you hopes that it won't end.

𝕄𝕒𝕪𝕓𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥'𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕒𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥.

[minicy]

[ID. Tweet says, "Does anyone else with ADHD... not seem to form habits? The self help literature always says habits become second nature - "you don't have to remind yourself to brush your teeth, right?" But brushing my teeth isn't automatic, it's a task I have to remember and choose every night." End ID.]

yep.

[kuidore]

Zoeystery headcanons ✧ KPOP Demon Hunters ✧ Zoey x Mystery

✧ ultimate yapper girl x listener boy

✧ He thought she was cute the moment he saw her bouncing her shoulders to soda pop while Rumi and Mira glared at her

✧ he’s not shy, just quiet. he just isn’t used to being human, and it tires him out a lot more than the others.

✧ He slowly feels like he’s actually relearning his humanity with Zoey, not just going through the motions of a human life like he had felt doing the idol thing

✧ Zoey gets anxious that people aren’t listening to her if they get too quiet. She’s used to being mid-ramble, asking a question, and not getting a response because the person tuned out and she didn’t realize

✧ after the first time she asks Mystery if he’s listening, he starts letting out noises of acknowledgement to reassure her while she’s talking so she doesn’t have to lose her train of thought

✧ he wants her to know that he’s listening very intently, and will sometimes even just say it out loud when he doesn’t have a better comment to make

✧ Zoey thinks it’s adorable, and she slowly feels less and less uncomfortable rambling for hours about television or animals or the songs she wanted to write

✧ She eventually just naturally stops apologizing for rambling or being too over the top, to him and to other people

✧ He starts getting better at conversations, but only with her. He asks social questions he used to think were stupid or boring or useless, because she’s the only one whose answers he actually wants to hear

✧ Mystery remembers nothing from his actual life on earth before the demon realm, and that doesn’t change even as he gets more comfortable as a ‘human’

✧ He couldn’t care less. He outright tells Zoey that it “leaves more room in my brain for the memories we make”

✧ she has to excuse herself from the room for a moment and yell into a pillow about how cute he is

✧ He can hear her doing it. when she comes back with a notebook he’s smiling wider than she thought he was even capable of

✧ she sits him down and they make a bucket list of everything she can think of that she considers “necessary to the human experience”, no matter how small

✧ she feels bad about being *excited* over his amnesia, but she can’t help but chatter about how she was going to be ‘introducing him to all this new stuff!’

✧ items on this list include but are not limited to; seeing the ocean in person, finding a really cool rock that you wanna keep forever, going to the bathhouse, and spending an entire day on the couch

✧ Mystery doesn’t really see what’s interesting about any of it, but he agrees because he wants Zoey to go with him

✧ He likes it, mostly because *she* likes it. He could be literally stranded in the arctic, if Zoey was finding a way to have fun he would be able to do it too. His number one idea of ‘fun’ is just… being around her.

✧ Mystery constantly wants to have Zoey on his lap/between his legs/sitting in literally any position where he can wrap his entire body around her from behind and rest his chin on her shoulder.

✧ he falls asleep like this fairly often. Zoey calls him her weighted blanket

✧ in general they both sleep a lot, they take afternoon naps together almost every day

✧ After enough time he’s got basically everything human down besides the ‘not barking at people who get too close to Zoey for his comfort’

✧ that one is an active choice. He has absolutely no intention of stopping that one

✧ bad saja boy became bad Mystery fairly quickly

✧ He pouts every time she says it. At first she felt bad about it, but eventually she started to find it cute

✧ he’ll sit with his head in her lap while she writes lyrics. She’s always patting his head and playing with his hair while mumbling about how soft it is.

✧ one day he realizes the whole time she’s been avoiding his bangs, and he grabs her hand and moves them away himself so she can see his face when she isn’t actively trying to kill him

✧ “You already know what I look like. I don’t care. If it’s just you.”

✧ She’s so giddy she grabs him and kisses him for the first time, and they’re both a little shocked by it

✧ it was the first time she saw him blush and she immediately became determined to make him do it as much as possible.

✧ She already has a notebook of things he likes and dislikes so she can remember (she has ones for Rumi and Mira too obvi)

✧ she adds a section to Mystery’s for things that make him blush

✧ she’s studying this guy like a bug and he secretly likes it

✧ He keeps the bangs cause most of the time he’s just so unable to control his own facial expressions that he would probably get into a fight in public

✧ but he starts pinning them back when he’s with Zoey

[limethefirst]

im sorry i but i have to get in on this sonic movie s shadow train i love this movie so much as well! And ive been dieing for some movie shadow x readers to pop up. Is it alright if i request something? Can we have a shadow the hedgehog x reader where you also are living in the g.u.n base maria and shadow were? Your father or mother being on of the scientists and one day maria and shadow find you alone in a corner of the base writing music or playing with toys something (your marias age). Thrn they introuce themselfs and maybe you become part of their gaggle of fraggles to always being with them to the point your mother and gerald agree for you and maria both to share a room. With you shadow and maria being so close in time till your all like siblings? Idk this just sounded so cute. Thank you of your able to write this!

Birds of a Feather

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x reader x Maria Robotnik (platonic)

warnings: none!!!

summary: after being brought to work with your mother, Maria and Shadow stumble upon you, deciding to invite you to join their little group, from then on the three of you became inseparable

a/n: this is such a cute request! I was gonna end it with both Maria and the reader dying but I think Shadow has been traumatized enough for now…

“You stay put! I have work to do in the lab okay?” Your mother’s voice was stern; being a single mother was tough, especially because she had no one to take care of you while she did her work. You gave her a small nod, acknowledging her request.

A slight sigh escaped her lips as she lightly caressed your cheek, “Just, behave for me please,” was the last thing she told you before she walked into the door to your right, the words ‘Laboratory’ in bright white above the area.

You slowly sat down on the floor, she’d asked you to not leave and you really wanted to respect her decision, even as a child you knew her life was harder than she’d let on.

Unfortunately you were a child with a small attention span. You dug into your pockets and found a small notebook with equations, probably from your mom and a small pencil. Since there was nothing better to do maybe it was best to just draw a little bit, maybe some flowers and animals you liked.

Sitting there, you slightly hunched over, trying your hardest to draw the most beautiful roses and some bees and landscape you could. Suddenly a voice rang out from above you, “What are you doing here?” Your head snapped up, meeting the eyes of a small blonde girl and a strange black and red hedgehog.

“Uhm my mom works here..” you nervously answered her, “What are you doing here?” You asked her exact question but back at her.

“My grandfather works here!” She proudly exclaimed. The hedgehog looked between the both of you, he stood covered behind her, he had a mean face but you could tell he was more curious than anything.

The girl taking note of the awkward silence decided to introduce herself, “I’m Maria! And this is Shadow! What’s your name?”

You looked between the two, taking in who they were before you quietly responded with your name, Maria let out a big grin and Shadow silently repeated it to himself, “What are you drawing?” Maria asked, looking at the small notebook in your hand. You looked down at it and turned it over so the two could see; it looked like a small rabbit with butterflies and flowers around it, “Woah that looks really cool!”

Shadow silently nodded, agreeing with her. You thanked the two of them, fidgeting with your pencil. As Maria continued to talk you took notice of her outfit, she wore a pastel rainbow long sleeve shirt and loose pants with skates on her feet instead of shoes. She must’ve noticed you staring at them as she suddenly asked, “Do you wanna try them!?”

You hesitantly shook your head, as much as you wanted to you didn’t really know her and if she would even be okay with that. Maria reassured you that it was fine and actually really fun, before you could tell her a definite no she’d already taken them off, placing them in front of you, “Try them! Shadow can pull you around,”

Shadow looked between the both of you, clearly not having agreed but Maria nodded her head yes, leaving Shadow to only agree. Surely your mom wouldn’t notice if you were gone for a quick second.

Once you were geared up and Maria found a rope to tie onto Shadow and for you to hold, she grabbed her timer, “Ready, set, go!!” Before you had time to really brace yourself Shadow had already set off, he ran through the base, his face held a small smile as he checked back a few times to check if you were still holding on.

He saw the wide smile you had, your laughter was echoing throughout the hall filled with the other agents. Quickly you already finished the lap and had made your way back to Maria, but unfortunately you didn’t exactly know how to stop, so as Shadow had slowed down you still held a generally fast speed. Too fast actually, causing you to trip and fall face first; thankfully the fast hedgehog was able to grab you and hold you up before you fell and ate concrete.

Maria ran over to check and make sure you were okay, feeling guilt if she somehow made you upset from almost falling. As you stood up, you turned back to look at the two, your extremely wide smile shocking them both, it was almost contagious as Maria started to smile and laugh and Shadow breathed a sigh of relief but you could see the small twitch in his lips making them quirk up.

Suddenly you heard your name coming from beside you, turning you saw your mom as well as her boss Professor Gerald Robotnik looking at the three of you, “I thought I told you to stay put!” Her expression wasn’t one of anger, more a mix of stress and lack of sleep.

“Mom! I’m sorry I just met Maria and Shadow and they’re really fun and I thought it was okay, we didn’t cause any trouble-“ You started to ramble feeling immense guilt for betraying your own mother, but you were suddenly cut off.

“Now now, I think it’s quite alright, you see Maria is my granddaughter, and I trust her and your child doesn’t seem bad” The professor interrupted and explained to your mother, “I actually think it’s good for the kids to hangout and get along” he advocated for you.

All three of you nodded your head, even Shadow was agreeing! Your mom reluctantly nodded her head, agreeing that he was right.

And so you came daily, until your mom had to start working 24/7 and so Gerald let you stay in Maria’s room, even getting you guys a bunk bed. It was nice, the three of you became like the three musketeers, you’d never see each other alone anymore.

Sometimes Maria would play music and you three would all dance and jump around together. At some point you even got your own pair of skates so that you three could race, although Shadow always won.

Life was fun, everyday was like an endless sleepover, sometimes the three of you would sneak out and watch the stars, even falling asleep under the moonlight. It wasn’t bad, not at all.

These were the best days of your life, just you and your two best friends.

[leclercstars]

save a horse.

dodge mason x reader

Summary: You're annoyed about getting paired with Dodge for a group project. He's quiet, cold, and you find nothing about him appealing (at least, that's what you're telling yourself.) Things start to take a turn when you end up having to work on the project in his bedroom, and suddenly, Dodge becomes the teacher.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+! protected sex, slight daddy kink, dom!dodge, nipple play

author's note: you all asked and you shall receive! god i love dodge mason (and you should too.)

“And you’ll be with Dodge Mason” the professor said when she got to your name on the class list. You thought you would be able to avoid group projects in community college, but apparently not. Dodge didn’t even shoot you a glance when the professor announced you as partners, so things were surely off to a great start.

He always sat in the very back, head low, kept to himself. He never raised his hand to answer a question or chime in on a discussion, and he always hurried out as soon as the professor dismissed class. You had seen him out at parties on occasion, chatting to one or two other guys in the corner. He looked good at parties, blue jeans and a tight t-shirt was a good uniform for him, especially when he added a cowboy hat. But his mysteriousness was unappealing, you found the whole “brooding cowboy” thing to be more cold and standoffish than sexy.

“Dodge! Dodge!” you chased him out of the classroom. You caught up with him and his expression hardly changed when he saw you. “What time should we meet to work on this?”

“8pm tonight sound fine?” he scrawled his address out on a piece of notebook paper and handed it to you.

“Sure! See ya then!” your cheeriness did not impact his mood, and you scoffed as you headed back to your car.

You did not find Dodge Mason appealing at all, but you found yourself standing in front of your mirror at 7:30 p.m. making sure that your outfit looked good. Your skirt was short, your shirt was tight. Why were you doing this? You kept trying to convince yourself you saw nothing in him, but your mind kept flashing back to the way his arms looked in those t-shirts that fit him so right. You threw on a hoodie so you at least seemed a little more casual.

He answered the door as soon as you knocked, and you walked in to quite a few folks in the dining room.

“Sorry, my sister has friends over. We’ll have to work in my room,” Dodge said as he led you down the hallway.

Why was your heart beating faster? You were just going in there to work, and it's only because you can’t go anywhere else.

His room was just as you expected it to be. Gray walls, navy bed sheets, decorated with rodeo trophies and a couple vintage cigarette ads.

“Neat room,” you said, even though it was boring as hell.

“Thanks.” he sat on one edge of the bed and you sat on the other, it felt like there was miles of distance between you- both physically and mentally at this point. Your legs were crossed tight, as you realized maybe wearing a skirt was not the best outfit choice for doing homework on a bed. The two of you got to work, talking about nothing except the work at hand. You were getting so bored, and your mind started to wander. His concentrated face was unfortunately very attractive, as he bit his lip looking down at the paper. His hands were huge, made evident by how small the pencil looked in them. His t-shirt was once again, tight. Hugging every muscle in his arm. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You took off your hoodie, revealing the crop-top you had on.

“Sorry, all this writing and concentrating is making me hot,” you laughed sheepishly.

“No problem.” Dodge replied plainly, although you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes suddenly scanned your body. He wasn’t even trying to hide it, as they lingered on the curve of your hips and the peaks of your tits, visible over the neckline of your shirt. Your face was getting warmer than the sun.

“I need a break, why don’t you tell me about these trophies?” you shot up and stood by his dresser, desperate to form some sort of connection with this man.

“Alright,” he stayed on the bed. He began explaining each one in pretty great detail. If you couldn’t physically get close to him, at least this was helping you get to know him better. There was a big one from when he was kid that had a particularly funny story to go along with it, and you held the shiny gold cup, facing away from the bed. You didn’t notice the way he slowly got up, coming up behind you and sneaking his hands around your waist. Your breath hitched, the smell of his musky cologne apparent as his neck was mere inches from your face. He turned you around to face him, fingertips never leaving the exposed skin between your shirt and skirt.

You stared up at him, eyes dark and low. It wasn’t his usual uninterested stare. No, this was lust, a throbbing, aching lust. God, he was so tall. You nearly had to tilt your head all the way back to even make eye contact. He cupped your face with both hands and pulled you in, kissing you in a way that you had never been kissed before. It was as if his lips were a key and yours were the lock, they fit perfectly together. His tongue found its way down your throat as his hands started to gently roam, tracing every curve and pausing as he found your ass under the skirt. He cupped your ass and squeezed, hard, earning a moan from you into his mouth. You could feel him smile against your lips as he squeezed again, making you press your body into his. Fuck, his abs were so tight and so defined you could feel them through the fabric. You looked up at him again with pleading eyes and he smirked before leaning right next to your ear.

“You wanna learn how to ride?” he whispered. You knew he was cracking a joke but god it felt so serious in that moment.

“Yes daddy.” you groaned back. Woah. He had never asked you to call him that, and you were not the type to just bust that word out usually.

“Fucking christ I need you so bad,” he hoisted you up and you instinctively wrapped your legs around him as he carried you to the bed. So “daddy” was well received. He flung all the notebooks and paper to the ground with one swipe of his arm. He was holding you up with one arm, giving you a chance to realize how strong he truly was. He tossed you down on the bed, rough but making sure he didn’t hurt you. His shirt came off almost immediately, and you happily helped him undo his belt buckle so you could see more of him. His cock was already throbbing through his boxers, just coaxing you to sit on it. He had already pulled your shirt and skirt off, and expertly unhooked your bra, tossing it to the side and taking a moment as you laid there in nothing but a lacy thong.

“Goddamn,” he sighed, grazing his thumbs over your nipples, teasing you and only making you want his cock more. He started applying more pressure, doing gentle circles with his thumbs and pressing his erection between your legs. Your moans were soft as you bucked your hips into him with progressively more force.

“Easy,” he firmly placed his hands on your hips, steadying them and pressing them back down into the mattress. “That’s no way for a good girl like you to behave.”

Suddenly it was Niagara Falls between your thighs.

He kept playing with your nipples, pinching and twisting and flicking, seeing how good it clearly made you feel. He wrapped his hands around your back and flipped you on top of him, quickly pulling down his boxers and exposing his cock, already slick with pre-cum. He reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a condom, looking at you as you straddled him.

“You ready baby?” he nearly cooed. You nodded and started to lift yourself up over him, but he decided to take control. His rough hands were planted firmly on the sides of your supple hips, guiding you onto his length. You were soaking wet, but he was so fucking big you could still only take half at once without flinching. He held you steady, waiting for you to get used to the feeling of him inside you. You both had locked eyes the moment he grabbed your hips, and neither had dared to look away, drinking in, being intoxicated by every emotion that crossed the other’s face. He slowly moved you down until you were fully sitting on his cock, gasping as the last inch pushed into your walls. Your hands were on his chest as you leaned forward, eyes now shut as you felt how close the two of you had become. Two hours ago he would barely say a word to you, now he was literally inside of you. He started rocking you back and forth, controlling your hips and making you feel so fucking good. Your clit rubbed against his abs as you rode, sparks zapping across your body every time he moved you in just the right way.

You were on top, but Dodge was fully in control. You were completely submitting to his touch, letting his hands do all the work. His body was doing all the talking he hadn’t done earlier, as he purposely thrust his abs up, knowing that was getting you closer and closer to the finish. You were starting to lose it, made completely stupid by how good his cock felt inside you.

“Fuck Dodge-daddy, fuck,” you were so so close, you could feel the orgasm starting to bubble up in your stomach.

Right as you were about to climax, Dodge sat up and leaned in.

“Cum for me good girl,” the thickness of his voice was enough to send you over the edge as you cried out, breaking free of his hands and grinding on him.

“Oh fuck me,” his head rolled back and the feeling of your pussy clenching around his dick was enough to finish him off, pulsating against your walls.

You slid yourself off him and collapsed onto his pillows, resting your head in the crook of his arm.

He started playing with your hair and the two of you just laid in silence, basking in the bliss of the sex you just had.

That was certainly one ride you never wanted to get off.

dividers by @.cafekitsune

[actuallysaiyan]

Fan Service(Jiraiya x Fan!Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, lewd themes, alcohol, praise kink, oral sex(fem receiving), penetrative sex, age gap, creampie finish word count 2k pairings: Jiraiya x Fan!Fem!Reader summary: during a book signing event, Jiraiya meets you. a breath of fresh air. and an aspiring smut author yourself...what happens when you two meet up to discuss positions?

Usually he wasn’t even really that excited for these types of events, but he can’t let his dear fans down. When he was just an up and coming writer, these types of events would be the highlight of his week. But right now, he was sort of wishing something else would happen. Something more fun and something more exciting than signing autographs for people who seemed disinterested or answering Kakashi’s questions about what’s going to happen in the next volume. Jiraiya was growing very bored.

That is…until you showed up.

Your beautiful eyes were alight as you approached the desk he was sitting at. A stack of books were piled up against his left arm, and Jiraiya nearly topples them over when you come over. You’re nearly bouncing in your steps as you finally get to him.

“Jiraiya-sama!” You squeal as you place a well-loved copy of Icha Icha on the desk. “I am so honored to meet you.”

His heart skips a beat. Your voice is so sweet and it’s so bubbly. He looks up at you and his cheeks redden just a bit. But he’s nothing if not suave. He looks at the copy of Icha Icha you’ve placed on the desk and opens it up.

“Well,” he says softly. “That’s a sweet thing to say to an old, washed up writer. Who should I make this out to?”

You say your name with a smile. “That’s a first edition copy.”

Now Jiraiya was impressed. “Is it? You’ve certainly enjoyed it. You know, I don’t have too many female fans, but this makes me happy.”

He signs his name after leaving a sweet little message. You seemed like a very nice girl. You look at him with stars in your eyes, almost like he’s your raison d’être. There’s something very sincere with the way you talk to him too.

“I…I had something to ask.” You say in a shy voice.

“Hmm? What is it, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks redden at this. “I’ve been writing as well. And I was wondering if maybe you could coach me.”

He laughs. “Nah come on, kiddo. You don’t want that. I’m washed up.”

You shake your head. “No! You’re truly inspiring.”

You place another book on the desk. It’s a notebook that looks like Icha Icha. He opens it up and reads a few passages. His eyes widen in shock. You were pretty good at this. He’s more than impressed.

“You don’t need my help, kiddo. You’re good! Heck, I’d say you’re great!”

You blush even more. “You really think so? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’d love to learn from you.”

He scratches his head. “Okay okay…how about we meet for drinks at some point this week? I can give you a few pointers.”

It’s on a Friday night that you meet up with him in the bar. He looks so confident as he sits in the booth with his drink. He waves at you, a cool smirk spread on his face as you approach him with that bubbly gait. You sit across from him, placing your bag on the table.

“I bought you a drink,” he says, placing a bottle of beer in front of you. “I didn’t know what you liked, but the bartender says this beer is popular.”

“Thank you! You really didn’t need to do that at all.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t mind.”

You pull out your notebook and take a sip of the beer. It’s a very smooth beer, and you know you would have probably ordered something nice like this for yourself. And then you and Jiraiya begin to talk about literature.

He’s got notes himself, showing you some of the rare things he wrote a long time ago. You feel so honored to get to read them. He talks to you about the editing process and how to make time for writing. He reiterates the importance of reading as well to keep your vocabulary up to date.

“I know you can do well,” he whispers softly after he’s had a few drinks. “You’re already wonderful.”

You’re blushing more now since you’ve also had a few drinks. “Thank you so much.”

He loves the way you keep leaning against him since you switched over to sitting next to him. Your perfume smells so good. You’re really cute too with the way you basically melt under his praise.

“I mean it! You could even give me some pointers now.”

You swallow hard. “Well,” you try to get the words out right. “There’s a position that I read in one of your books that I was wondering how good it would be.”

You open up the book in front of him and you read the passage. Then your eyes lock with his and it’s hard to look away. The sexual tension just keeps building and building before he leans in close.

“I’m just going to let you know now,” he whispers. “If we go any further, I don’t know if I could bring myself to stay away.”

You smirk. “Good, I don’t want you to.”

And with this, you seal it with a kiss. It’s slow and tentative at first, but then it turns into something a little messier and hotter. Jiraiya wraps his arm around you, pulling you impossibly close to him. Your breasts press up against his rock hard abs, making him grunt with pleasure. This was becoming the best fan meet-up in the history of his career and you weren’t even the first fan he hooked up with.

“We should probably take this elsewhere,” Jiraiya says as he nips at your bottom lip.

“Sounds like a good plan.”

Despite not wanting to pull away from you, Jiraiya gets up and helps you pack up your stuff. He’s quick to pay off his tab and with that, he brings you outside. The walk to his place is slow and sweet. The two of you discuss all kinds of things while the sexual tension builds inside of you.

Inside his apartment, he tells you to make yourself at home. You feel like this is just the start of one of his books. You grin at him, making him blush just a little bit. In the low lighting of his place, you look like a dream. A sexy, wet and palpitating dream. He approaches you with quick strides, and then he’s pinning you to the wall.

“Look at you,” his fingers brush back some hairs from your face. “You’re giving me those fuck me eyes. You’re making such an old man feel good, darling.”

You giggle. “Jiraiya, I want you to fuck me.”

His cock throbs at the words that come from your lips. He looks into your eyes, searching for maybe something that says not to do this. When he finds nothing but lust, admiration and even something close to love, he captures your lips with his own.

Languidly, his tongue rolls and rubs against yours. It’s a wet kiss that leaves your panties very sticky with arousal. Your heart is pounding in your chest as he moves with a certain suggestiveness that you’ve never seen anyone else have. When he pulls away, he’s smirking at you.

“Want to take this into the bedroom or do you want me to fuck you right up against the wall here?”

Your breath hitches in your throat. “Jiraiya. I—”

He laughs. “Up against the wall it is!”

He pushes you further up against the wall before getting on his knees. Seeing such a big man kneeling before you like this has your stomach in knots. How could he be this sexy? It was no surprise to you that someone like him was just dripping with pure sexuality but this was better than you could ever imagine.

His fingers are quick but soft as he undresses you. His teeth bite and nip your skin, leaving little marks to remind you that this did in fact happen. This was real and it was happening to you. You moan when he swivels his tongue on your lower tummy, his tongue swiping down under your underwear before he looks up at you.

“You smell good,” His face is pressed between your thighs. “So fucking good.”

He wastes no more time. Your panties are pushed down and he leans in to lap at you like a man starved. Your knees are already buckling and you don’t trust yourself to hold yourself up anymore. Thankfully, Jiraiya is quite strong and he’s good to keep you up while he sucks on your clit. Waves of pleasure ripple through you before you fall off the edge with a loud cry of his name.

“Already?” He asks, his lips still somewhat wrapped around the throbbing nub. “Wow, I didn’t think I was that good.”

You huff and blush, looking away from the very sexual man that sits on his knees for you. He’s toying with your folds, licking them and sucking on them before his tongue dips down to your entrance to get a full taste of you. His eyes roll back as he gets the full flavor of your essence.

“You’re gonna make me addicted,” He growls before he gets up on his feet. 

Jiraiya pulls down his pants, kicking them to the side. He grinds his hips against yours, allowing you to feel his erection that’s now straining against his underwear. Your hand shakes as you reach down to palm him. He’s fucking huge, but you’re not one to shy away from this challenge.

He bucks up into your hand. “Think you can handle it?”

“Of course I can.”

He loves how confident you are. He helps spread your legs before he pushes his underwear down. The look on your face when you finally see his dick says it all. Jiraiya knows he’s been blessed with a big member, but he always loves the way women react to it for the first time.

“Brace yourself, honey. I’m gonna rock your world.”

He uses the tip to smear your arousal all over before prodding your little hole. You were going to be tight, he knows this. But as he pushes into you, he finds it’s the warmth that’s drawing him in more than anything. His eyes close and he grunts.

“Taking me so well,” he praises you before kissing you.

Slowly, he starts up at a pace that’s comfortable for the two of you. He’s surprisingly gentle for someone who seemed like he’d be wild with you, and yet you can’t complain. It feels so good to go slow like this, building a bond without truly realizing it. Your bodies move together in tandem before he picks up the pace and begins slamming into you.

“I knew you were such a naughty thing when I first laid eyes on you,” He lifts your leg and places you in the position you were talking about earlier. “How’s this for the position, hm? Is it as good as you imagined?”

In this position, he reaches even deeper into you. Your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his skin and he pushes you right over the edge. His gruff voice is coaxing you to cum, cum all over his cock. With your tight walls spasming around him, Jiraiya is finding it so hard to hold on.

“Fuck,” he pants. “Gonna cum. Where should I—”

“Inside, please!”

Your words alone are what send him over the edge. He grunts as his balls tighten, making his cock throb with each shot of hot cum that paints your insides. It’s sticky and messy, but he continues to thrust into you. Jiraiya kisses you, making his whole body shudder from the deep affection he feels for you in this moment.

As things begin to subside, he pulls away and looks at you. You look very satisfied and it warms his heart. He knows he’s a good lover, but sometimes he does worry that his age has finally caught up to him. Another kiss and he slowly pulls out of you. His seed drips down your thighs.

“Maybe…” you pant. “Maybe we can try a few other positions?”

He grins. “I love the way you think.”

With that, he takes you by the hand and leads you into the bedroom…

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

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[vanesycho]

Can u write maths professor Haechan nsfw? And I ssly love your works so much 🥺 you are so amazing 💚✨

• student f!reader x math professor!haechan | m.list

warning | smut, fingering, kinda age gap

word count | 1,4k

a/n | thank you very much for your nice comment love, I hope you like it🤍

enjoy reading！

The corridors of the mathematics department on the vast campus of the university were always quiet. Professor Lee Donghyuck was a figure who brought this silence to life with his energetic demeanor. The reason he was popular among the students was not only his charisma, but also his teaching skills that could make even complex topics understandable. However, at this point, you definitely didn’t care about the lesson.

Your eyes started to focus on him instead of the equations on the board, the way he held his pencil, the way he adjusted his glasses every now and then, the way he explained the problem to the students by leaning slightly towards them, his shirt rolled up to his elbows, the mocking yet warm smile on his lips when one of the students gave the wrong answer...

“Y/n L/n.” When you looked around, an empty lecture hall greeted you, Hyuck’s gaze was fixed on you, you quickly lowered your head and started to pack your things. You were about to pick up your notebook when a hand stopped you. When you looked up, you were met with him. “Should we talk about this constant distraction you experience?” his voice was deep and whispery, making you swallow hard as you looked away from him. “I’m sorry professor.. It wasn’t something I did on purpose.” he slowly pulled his hand away from your notebook, quickly grabbing your last item and standing up. “Did I say you can go?” you were about to walk past him but his voice stopped you. He reached you in a few steps, you felt a shiver run down your spine when his breath caught your ear. “Tell me, what did you learn in this lesson?”

Fuck. Your eyes drifted to the board as you muttered a curse under your breath. Hyuck’s hand found your chin when he noticed it, turning your face to him. "Ah-ah, no cheating. Since when did you stop listening so much?" it was more of a scolding than a question, he definitely didn’t expect an answer from you so you just stayed silent. “Understood. You better come to my office tomorrow. We need to make up for the lesson you missed, okay?” you nodded in agreement as the thought of being alone with him increased your blood circulation. “I don’t think I got an answer, Y/n?” He leaned towards you, the word 'I understand' you mumbled vaguely made him grin slightly, you let out a breath the moment he finally pulled away from you, even this small conversation was driving you crazy so you didn't stay there any longer and threw yourself out.

"Come in." The door opened and Hyuck's head shot up, a smile on his face as his eyes saw you. "Ah..Y/n. I've been waiting for you." He started the lesson without much conversation between you. But the same problem distracted you again, him. His voice had taken over your focus, you looked at the pen he was twirling in his fingers, not even understanding what he was talking about. Was he delicate with his fingers? Or was he the type who acted completely cruel? Oh, you would do anything to get the answer to that.

You licked your dry lips, his hand with slightly veined eyes made you press your legs together. Donghyuck's gaze occasionally went to you, he could clearly see that you weren't focusing, he put the pen he was holding on the book and took a deep breath. "You're not focusing Y/n, what's on your mind, hm?" Your breath caught for a moment, you looked at him, "No- nothing, professor." He hummed. Then stood up and took a book out of his bookshelf and placed it in front of you. It didn’t take long for you to realize that the book you were browsing for a few seconds was about math. Hyuck reached for the book from behind you and opened a page. “Read it. Out loud and if I see you’re distracted, nothing good will happen, understand?”

You nodded quickly, moving to sit next to you as you starting to read. “Integral..” you read the title, you could see him watching you with his eyes locked on your face, the tension gripping you, even though it was hard to continue knowing he was watching you, you knew you had no other choice. “The indefinite integral is found by inverting the derivative of a function and the constant of integration...” was the thing that cut you off mid-sentence is his hand on your thigh, only amusing him as your breathing stopped momentarily. You could feel him moving closer to you, his breath tickling your neck. “What’s wrong Y/n? You seem distracted again.” he knew exactly what he was doing and it was only getting on your nerves. His hand reached up a little higher, thumb gently caressing you over the panties under your skirt. You fought with yourself not to squeeze your legs together, holding your breath for a moment again as his hand squeezed the inside of your thigh hard. “You know I don’t like my questions to go unanswered, do I have to repeat myself?”

You shook your head, opening your mouth to answer. “No- no I..It’s okay Professor Lee.” He removed his hand from your leg and stood up, grabbing the book in front of you. You let out a deep breath and watched him as he finally moved away. He put the book back in its place and spoke as he approached the table again. “This is what’s disrupting your concentration.” He turned the chair towards him and placed one hand on the top of the chair, leaning slightly towards you. “We can’t continue with this lesson until we find a solution to this problem.” His voice was whispery and made your body tremble. “So sit at the table and spread your legs for me, Miss L/n.”

You were afraid to double-check what he said, and he knew that you wouldn’t go against him when it was Lee Donghyuck. So you got up from the chair and sat on the table and soon he got between your legs, went to your panties, he moved the piece of fabric to the side and his fingers found your pussy "Oh fuck.. How long have you been so wet hm?" His middle finger caressed your clit for a while then slid down, slowly inserting it into your hole. One of your hands went to his shoulder and you squeezed it lightly to keep from moaning, his finger was slow but it felt just as good.

After a while you let out a loud moan this time as he added his second finger "Shh.." his voice found your ear, fingers started to destroy your pussy quickly "Professor..." the needy sound made him mutter a curse. You knew you were close to orgasm, his fingers were moving as if he knew your insides by heart.

"Professor Lee, are you there?"

The sound of a knock on the door made you look at him in fear, he looked into your eyes and replied "What's wrong Sion?" You waited for him to stop, but he fooled you. You put a hand over your mouth to keep from making any noise, nothing more than small whimpers, but damn it you knew you were going to cum soon. “I came to ask you a question about the last class, are you free?” he grinned, leaning into your ear before answering. “Am I free? What’s the worst that could happen if he walks through that door, Miss L/n?” You shook your head quickly, adrenaline rushing through your entire body. “Please..” were the only words you could get out of your mouth, the fact that you were in such a tight spot that it only made him laugh, his fingers curling inside you making it hard for you to hold yourself back, you leaned your head against his chest and finally climaxed. You couldn’t help but moan loudly as all your fluids hit his fingers, “Professor Lee? Is everything okay? Think I heard some- ” while interrupting his sentence he pulled his fingers out of you. “Find me back in an hour Sion. I’m busy right now.”

After a few footsteps, the surroundings became quiet, you heard a giggle as you buried your head in his chest in embarrassment. “Good job, Miss L/n. See? You managed to cum without losing your focus, so that must be the problem.” You watched him clean up the place, after a while he came back across you and put his hands on either side of the table, squeezing you. “I hope you’ll be more careful from now on. If I see you distracted again, I won’t care if people see you this time.” You nodded in approval, he placed a small kiss on your lips and whispering, “Well done, my girl. We’ll continue our unfinished lesson tomorrow, okay? Class is over for now.”

[lnfours]

focal point ☆ chapter 2 | l.n

summary: you’re running out of time to start your project and lando’s really trying to get you to agree to his ultimatum, despite your constant disagreeing.

warnings: art student!reader, best friend/college student!oscar, college student!lando, slight enemies to lovers!au, slight grumpy!lando x sunshine!reader, banter per usual, kind of shitty writing, and some more setting the scene.

series masterlist

the sunlight shone in through the tall windows of the library as you scribbled in your notebook. highlighters and pens scattered across the table, laptop sitting in front of you with a list of assignments you needed to get done this week.

the headphones on your head helped block out any noise from the outside world, free of any distractions from the other students in the upstairs portion of the large building. however, they also drowned out the noise of footsteps approaching behind you.

a tap on your shoulder almost sent you flying out of your seat, turning around and tugging an ear cuff off to be met with green eyes and brown, floppy, messy curls that clearly had endured the wind outside. you immediately sighed, “what do you want, norris?”

“well beings you left me on read,” he wore that stupid, signature smirk that you really just wanted to wipe off his face, “i figured i’d come to you with the proposal in person.”

“has anyone told you how insufferable you are?”

he pulled the chair out from across the table, dropping his backpack to the floor before leaning back in the wooden chair, “no, they’re usually telling me i’m irresistible,”

“their standards must be pretty low.”

he shrugged, watching as you closed the lid of your laptop, placing the pen that once had been in your hand down on the lined paper. if there was one thing you knew about lando norris, other than the fact that he was undoubtedly annoying, he was also stubborn as fuck.

“let me get this right,” you started, “you want to be my model for my project so that in return i help you in econ, right?”

“yeah,” he said, “you scratch-“

“‘i scratch your back, you scratch mine’, yeah, whatever,” you said, “here’s my question, why don’t you just go to the tutoring center for help? like everyone else?”

“because i know you,” he said, “and because there’s a long ass waitlist for a tutor.”

“maybe you should’ve went earlier in the semester,” you shrugged.

“wasn’t failing the course til now,” he had an answer for everything, didn’t he?

“look, you’re running out of time to find someone for your little painting, and i’m one test score away from having to take the class again and miss graduation in the spring. why don’t we just be civil for the next month or so, help each other out, and then we can go back to hating each other as much as you’d like.”

maybe he had a point. you were running out of time to get started and despite your best efforts in not trying to feel bad for him, you kind of did. econ was a hard course, even you had struggled with it last semester. and you really didn’t want to be the reason why he misses graduation if you didn’t help him.

it wasn’t really that bad of an ultimatum, surely it could’ve been worse. it’s not like you were going to fall in love with him or anything.

“alright, fine,” you said, making him smile and cheer silently, “but, we‘re doing things my way.”

he put his hands up in fake surrender, “whatever you say,”

you began packing your things into your bag, “can we start tonight?”

“yeah, my last class ends at six. ‘m free after,”

“sounds good,” you said, “i’ll text you which building and floor is mine.”

he nodded, that stupid smirk popping up on his face again, “it’s a date then.”

you scoffed, throwing your bag over your shoulder before calling over your shoulder, “definitely not!”

you got back to your apartment, throwing your keys onto the kitchen counter before spotting your roommate, lily, on the couch. an episode of the show she had been trying to convince you to watch on the tv, but her head leaned back to smile at you softly.

“how was the library?”

you hummed, rummaging in the fridge before grabbing a water bottle from it, “it was fine until the devil showed up.”

she laughed softly, “‘the devil?’”

“yeah,” you plopped down next to her, “remember the guy i was telling you about the other day? oscar’s roommate who asked me to tutor him in exchange for being my model for the project?”

she hummed, “yeah, what did he just show up?”

“unfortunately. i think oscar must’ve mentioned to him that i go to the library on fridays to work on assignments. the guy literally tracked me down to convince me to agree to his plan in person because i left him on read the other night.”

she laughed softly, “gotta give it to him, at least he’s committed,”

“to getting on my nerves? oh, one hundred percent.”

“i mean, at least he’s offering to help you too,” she said, “plus, is he really all that bad?”

“just wait til you meet him,” you mumbled, “what’re your plans for tonight?”

she looked at the time on her phone, “after this episode i’m gonna start getting ready to head to the cafe. promised someone i’d meet them tonight,”

you wiggled your eyebrows, bumping her shoulder, “ooh, is it that cute guy from your chemistry class who you won’t shut up about?”

“one, i do shut up about him,” she sent you a pointed look but her face broke out into a small smile shortly after, “and two, maybe, who knows?”

“lils this is great!” you smiled, “i told you, he’s definitely into you!”

“i hope so. part of me wants to believe you, but the other part is telling me he just said ‘yes’ out of pity.”

“well then he clearly doesn’t know what he’s missing out on if he did,” you stood from the couch, “wear that black long sleeve you have, you look hot in it.”

“i hate you,” she laughed as you ventured to your room, heading to start setting up the things you needed for tonight.

“no you don’t!” you giggled back.

you made your way into your room and gathered all the supplies you were going to need in order to start your project tonight. humming along to a tune that was stuck in your head, you glanced at the clock and realized that time had passed a little quicker than you had thought.

lando should be here any minute.

and as if right on queue, you heard lily’s voice through the apartment, “y/n, lando’s here!”

you made your way to the living room where he was standing talking to lily, backpack still on his shoulders. he sported a backwards cap over his curls with a black hoodie and grey sweatpants to match. little curls peeked out from underneath the hat and-

why were you subtly checking him out?

“okay well you guys have fun,” lily smiled softly, “i’m heading out. it was nice meeting you, lando! i’ll see you guys later!”

her voice brought you back to the present tense, lando bidding her a soft smile and a wave, “nice meeting you, too!”

“bye! good luck!” you called back, causing her to let out a chuckle and a playful eye-roll as she headed out the door.

“so,” he said after a beat of silence, following as you led him to your room, “what is it that you need me to do?”

you grabbed your sketchbook from your desk as he sat at the edge of the bed, “you can do whatever you want as long as you’re still enough for me to be able to come up with a draft.”

“sounds good,”

“good, let’s get this whole thing over with, yeah?”

[mariacallous]

On a blustery spring Thursday, just after midterms, I went out for noodles with Alex and Eugene, two undergraduates at New York University, to talk about how they use artificial intelligence in their schoolwork. When I first met Alex, last year, he was interested in a career in the arts, and he devoted a lot of his free time to photo shoots with his friends. But he had recently decided on a more practical path: he wanted to become a C.P.A. His Thursdays were busy, and he had forty-five minutes until a study session for an accounting class. He stowed his skateboard under a bench in the restaurant and shook his laptop out of his bag, connecting to the internet before we sat down.

Alex has wavy hair and speaks with the chill, singsong cadence of someone who has spent a lot of time in the Bay Area. He and Eugene scanned the menu, and Alex said that they should get clear broth, rather than spicy, “so we can both lock in our skin care.” Weeks earlier, when I’d messaged Alex, he had said that everyone he knew used ChatGPT in some fashion, but that he used it only for organizing his notes. In person, he admitted that this wasn’t remotely accurate. “Any type of writing in life, I use A.I.,” he said. He relied on Claude for research, DeepSeek for reasoning and explanation, and Gemini for image generation. ChatGPT served more general needs. “I need A.I. to text girls,” he joked, imagining an A.I.-enhanced version of Hinge. I asked if he had used A.I. when setting up our meeting. He laughed, and then replied, “Honestly, yeah. I’m not tryin’ to type all that. Could you tell?”

OpenAI released ChatGPT on November 30, 2022. Six days later, Sam Altman, the C.E.O., announced that it had reached a million users. Large language models like ChatGPT don’t “think” in the human sense—when you ask ChatGPT a question, it draws from the data sets it has been trained on and builds an answer based on predictable word patterns. Companies had experimented with A.I.-driven chatbots for years, but most sputtered upon release; Microsoft’s 2016 experiment with a bot named Tay was shut down after sixteen hours because it began spouting racist rhetoric and denying the Holocaust. But ChatGPT seemed different. It could hold a conversation and break complex ideas down into easy-to-follow steps. Within a month, Google’s management, fearful that A.I. would have an impact on its search-engine business, declared a “code red.”

Among educators, an even greater panic arose. It was too deep into the school term to implement a coherent policy for what seemed like a homework killer: in seconds, ChatGPT could collect and summarize research and draft a full essay. Many large campuses tried to regulate ChatGPT and its eventual competitors, mostly in vain. I asked Alex to show me an example of an A.I.-produced paper. Eugene wanted to see it, too. He used a different A.I. app to help with computations for his business classes, but he had never gotten the hang of using it for writing. “I got you,” Alex told him. (All the students I spoke with are identified by pseudonyms.)

He opened Claude on his laptop. I noticed a chat that mentioned abolition. “We had to read Robert Wedderburn for a class,” he explained, referring to the nineteenth-century Jamaican abolitionist. “But, obviously, I wasn’t tryin’ to read that.” He had prompted Claude for a summary, but it was too long for him to read in the ten minutes he had before class started. He told me, “I said, ‘Turn it into concise bullet points.’ ” He then transcribed Claude’s points in his notebook, since his professor ran a screen-free classroom.

Alex searched until he found a paper for an art-history class, about a museum exhibition. He had gone to the show, taken photographs of the images and the accompanying wall text, and then uploaded them to Claude, asking it to generate a paper according to the professor’s instructions. “I’m trying to do the least work possible, because this is a class I’m not hella fucking with,” he said. After skimming the essay, he felt that the A.I. hadn’t sufficiently addressed the professor’s questions, so he refined the prompt and told it to try again. In the end, Alex’s submission received the equivalent of an A-minus. He said that he had a basic grasp of the paper’s argument, but that if the professor had asked him for specifics he’d have been “so fucked.” I read the paper over Alex’s shoulder; it was a solid imitation of how an undergraduate might describe a set of images. If this had been 2007, I wouldn’t have made much of its generic tone, or of the precise, box-ticking quality of its critical observations.

Eugene, serious and somewhat solemn, had been listening with bemusement. “I would not cut and paste like he did, because I’m a lot more paranoid,” he said. He’s a couple of years younger than Alex and was in high school when ChatGPT was released. At the time, he experimented with A.I. for essays but noticed that it made easily noticed errors. “This passed the A.I. detector?” he asked Alex.

When ChatGPT launched, instructors adopted various measures to insure that students’ work was their own. These included requiring them to share time-stamped version histories of their Google documents, and designing written assignments that had to be completed in person, over multiple sessions. But most detective work occurs after submission. Services like GPTZero, Copyleaks, and Originality.ai analyze the structure and syntax of a piece of writing and assess the likelihood that it was produced by a machine. Alex said that his art-history professor was “hella old,” and therefore probably didn’t know about such programs. We fed the paper into a few different A.I.-detection websites. One said there was a twenty-eight-per-cent chance that the paper was A.I.-generated; another put the odds at sixty-one per cent. “That’s better than I expected,” Eugene said.

I asked if he thought what his friend had done was cheating, and Alex interrupted: “Of course. Are you fucking kidding me?”

As we looked at Alex’s laptop, I noticed that he had recently asked ChatGPT whether it was O.K. to go running in Nike Dunks. He had concluded that ChatGPT made for the best confidant. He consulted it as one might a therapist, asking for tips on dating and on how to stay motivated during dark times. His ChatGPT sidebar was an index of the highs and lows of being a young person. He admitted to me and Eugene that he’d used ChatGPT to draft his application to N.Y.U.—our lunch might never have happened had it not been for A.I. “I guess it’s really dishonest, but, fuck it, I’m here,” he said.

“It’s cheating, but I don’t think it’s, like, cheating,” Eugene said. He saw Alex’s art-history essay as a victimless crime. He was just fulfilling requirements, not training to become a literary scholar.

Alex had to rush off to his study session. I told Eugene that our conversation had made me wonder about my function as a professor. He asked if I taught English, and I nodded.

“Mm, O.K.,” he said, and laughed. “So you’re, like, majorly affected.”

I teach at a small liberal-arts college, and I often joke that a student is more likely to hand in a big paper a year late (as recently happened) than to take a dishonorable shortcut. My classes are small and intimate, driven by processes and pedagogical modes, like letting awkward silences linger, that are difficult to scale. As a result, I have always had a vague sense that my students are learning something, even when it is hard to quantify. In the past, if I was worried that a paper had been plagiarized, I would enter a few phrases from it into a search engine and call it due diligence. But I recently began noticing that some students’ writing seemed out of synch with how they expressed themselves in the classroom. One essay felt stitched together from two minds—half of it was polished and rote, the other intimate and unfiltered. Having never articulated a policy for A.I., I took the easy way out. The student had had enough shame to write half of the essay, and I focussed my feedback on improving that part.

It’s easy to get hung up on stories of academic dishonesty. Late last year, in a survey of college and university leaders, fifty-nine per cent reported an increase in cheating, a figure that feels conservative when you talk to students. A.I. has returned us to the question of what the point of higher education is. Until we’re eighteen, we go to school because we have to, studying the Second World War and reducing fractions while undergoing a process of socialization. We’re essentially learning how to follow rules. College, however, is a choice, and it has always involved the tacit agreement that students will fulfill a set of tasks, sometimes pertaining to subjects they find pointless or impractical, and then receive some kind of credential. But even for the most mercenary of students, the pursuit of a grade or a diploma has come with an ancillary benefit. You’re being taught how to do something difficult, and maybe, along the way, you come to appreciate the process of learning. But the arrival of A.I. means that you can now bypass the process, and the difficulty, altogether.

There are no reliable figures for how many American students use A.I., just stories about how everyone is doing it. A 2024 Pew Research Center survey of students between the ages of thirteen and seventeen suggests that a quarter of teens currently use ChatGPT for schoolwork, double the figure from 2023. OpenAI recently released a report claiming that one in three college students uses its products. There’s good reason to believe that these are low estimates. If you grew up Googling everything or using Grammarly to give your prose a professional gloss, it isn’t far-fetched to regard A.I. as just another productivity tool. “I see it as no different from Google,” Eugene said. “I use it for the same kind of purpose.”

Being a student is about testing boundaries and staying one step ahead of the rules. While administrators and educators have been debating new definitions for cheating and discussing the mechanics of surveillance, students have been embracing the possibilities of A.I. A few months after the release of ChatGPT, a Harvard undergraduate got approval to conduct an experiment in which it wrote papers that had been assigned in seven courses. The A.I. skated by with a 3.57 G.P.A., a little below the school’s average. Upstart companies introduced products that specialized in “humanizing” A.I.-generated writing, and TikTok influencers began coaching their audiences on how to avoid detection.

Unable to keep pace, academic administrations largely stopped trying to control students’ use of artificial intelligence and adopted an attitude of hopeful resignation, encouraging teachers to explore the practical, pedagogical applications of A.I. In certain fields, this wasn’t a huge stretch. Studies show that A.I. is particularly effective in helping non-native speakers acclimate to college-level writing in English. In some STEM classes, using generative A.I. as a tool is acceptable. Alex and Eugene told me that their accounting professor encouraged them to take advantage of free offers on new A.I. products available only to undergraduates, as companies competed for student loyalty throughout the spring. In May, OpenAI announced ChatGPT Edu, a product specifically marketed for educational use, after schools including Oxford University, Arizona State University, and the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School of Business experimented with incorporating A.I. into their curricula. This month, the company detailed plans to integrate ChatGPT into every dimension of campus life, with students receiving “personalized” A.I. accounts to accompany them throughout their years in college.

But for English departments, and for college writing in general, the arrival of A.I. has been more vexed. Why bother teaching writing now? The future of the midterm essay may be a quaint worry compared with larger questions about the ramifications of artificial intelligence, such as its effect on the environment, or the automation of jobs. And yet has there ever been a time in human history when writing was so important to the average person? E-mails, texts, social-media posts, angry missives in comments sections, customer-service chats—let alone one’s actual work. The way we write shapes our thinking. We process the world through the composition of text dozens of times a day, in what the literary scholar Deborah Brandt calls our era of “mass writing.” It’s possible that the ability to write original and interesting sentences will become only more important in a future where everyone has access to the same A.I. assistants.

Corey Robin, a writer and a professor of political science at Brooklyn College, read the early stories about ChatGPT with skepticism. Then his daughter, a sophomore in high school at the time, used it to produce an essay that was about as good as those his undergraduates wrote after a semester of work. He decided to stop assigning take-home essays. For the first time in his thirty years of teaching, he administered in-class exams.

Robin told me he finds many of the steps that universities have taken to combat A.I. essays to be “hand-holding that’s not leading people anywhere.” He has become a believer in the passage-identification blue-book exam, in which students name and contextualize excerpts of what they’ve read for class. “Know the text and write about it intelligently,” he said. “That was a way of honoring their autonomy without being a cop.”

His daughter, who is now a senior, complains that her teachers rarely assign full books. And Robin has noticed that college students are more comfortable with excerpts than with entire articles, and prefer short stories to novels. “I don’t get the sense they have the kind of literary or cultural mastery that used to be the assumption upon which we assigned papers,” he said. One study, published last year, found that fifty-eight per cent of students at two Midwestern universities had so much trouble interpreting the opening paragraphs of “Bleak House,” by Charles Dickens, that “they would not be able to read the novel on their own.” And these were English majors.

The return to pen and paper has been a common response to A.I. among professors, with sales of blue books rising significantly at certain universities in the past two years. Siva Vaidhyanathan, a professor of media studies at the University of Virginia, grew dispirited after some students submitted what he suspected was A.I.-generated work for an assignment on how the school’s honor code should view A.I.-generated work. He, too, has decided to return to blue books, and is pondering the logistics of oral exams. “Maybe we go all the way back to 450 B.C.,” he told me.

But other professors have renewed their emphasis on getting students to see the value of process. Dan Melzer, the director of the first-year composition program at the University of California, Davis, recalled that “everyone was in a panic” when ChatGPT first hit. Melzer’s job is to think about how writing functions across the curriculum so that all students, from prospective scientists to future lawyers, get a chance to hone their prose. Consequently, he has an accommodating view of how norms around communication have changed, especially in the internet age. He was sympathetic to kids who viewed some of their assignments as dull and mechanical and turned to ChatGPT to expedite the process. He called the five-paragraph essay—the classic “hamburger” structure, consisting of an introduction, three supporting body paragraphs, and a conclusion—“outdated,” having descended from élitist traditions.

Melzer believes that some students loathe writing because of how it’s been taught, particularly in the past twenty-five years. The No Child Left Behind Act, from 2002, instituted standards-based reforms across all public schools, resulting in generations of students being taught to write according to rigid testing rubrics. As one teacher wrote in the Washington Post in 2013, students excelled when they mastered a form of “bad writing.” Melzer has designed workshops that treat writing as a deliberative, iterative process involving drafting, feedback (from peers and also from ChatGPT), and revision.

“If you assign a generic essay topic and don’t engage in any process, and you just collect it a month later, it’s almost like you’re creating an environment tailored to crime,” he said. “You’re encouraging crime in your community!”

I found Melzer’s pedagogical approach inspiring; I instantly felt bad for routinely breaking my class into small groups so that they could “workshop” their essays, as though the meaning of this verb were intuitively clear. But, as a student, I’d have found Melzer’s focus on process tedious—it requires a measure of faith that all the work will pay off in the end. Writing is hard, regardless of whether it’s a five-paragraph essay or a haiku, and it’s natural, especially when you’re a college student, to want to avoid hard work—this is why classes like Melzer’s are compulsory. “You can imagine that students really want to be there,” he joked.

College is all about opportunity costs. One way of viewing A.I. is as an intervention in how people choose to spend their time. In the early nineteen-sixties, college students spent an estimated twenty-four hours a week on schoolwork. Today, that figure is about fifteen, a sign, to critics of contemporary higher education, that young people are beneficiaries of grade inflation—in a survey conducted by the Harvard Crimson, nearly eighty per cent of the class of 2024 reported a G.P.A. of 3.7 or higher—and lack the diligence of their forebears. I don’t know how many hours I spent on schoolwork in the late nineties, when I was in college, but I recall feeling that there was never enough time. I suspect that, even if today’s students spend less time studying, they don’t feel significantly less stressed. It’s the nature of campus life that everyone assimilates into a culture of busyness, and a lot of that anxiety has been shifted to extracurricular or pre-professional pursuits. A dean at Harvard remarked that students feel compelled to find distinction outside the classroom because they are largely indistinguishable within it.

Eddie, a sociology major at Long Beach State, is older than most of his classmates. He graduated high school in 2010, and worked full time while attending a community college. “I’ve gone through a lot to be at school,” he told me. “I want to learn as much as I can.” ChatGPT, which his therapist recommended to him, was ubiquitous at Long Beach even before the California State University system, which Long Beach is a part of, announced a partnership with OpenAI, giving its four hundred and sixty thousand students access to ChatGPT Edu. “I was a little suspicious of how convenient it was,” Eddie said. “It seemed to know a lot, in a way that seemed so human.”

He told me that he used A.I. “as a brainstorm” but never for writing itself. “I limit myself, for sure.” Eddie works for Los Angeles County, and he was talking to me during a break. He admitted that, when he was pressed for time, he would sometimes use ChatGPT for quizzes. “I don’t know if I’m telling myself a lie,” he said. “I’ve given myself opportunities to do things ethically, but if I’m rushing to work I don’t feel bad about that,” particularly for courses outside his major.

I recognized Eddie’s conflict. I’ve used ChatGPT a handful of times, and on one occasion it accomplished a scheduling task so quickly that I began to understand the intoxication of hyper-efficiency. I’ve felt the need to stop myself from indulging in idle queries. Almost all the students I interviewed in the past few months described the same trajectory: from using A.I. to assist with organizing their thoughts to off-loading their thinking altogether. For some, it became something akin to social media, constantly open in the corner of the screen, a portal for distraction. This wasn’t like paying someone to write a paper for you—there was no social friction, no aura of illicit activity. Nor did it feel like sharing notes, or like passing off what you’d read in CliffsNotes or SparkNotes as your own analysis. There was no real time to reflect on questions of originality or honesty—the student basically became a project manager. And for students who use it the way Eddie did, as a kind of sounding board, there’s no clear threshold where the work ceases to be an original piece of thinking. In April, Anthropic, the company behind Claude, released a report drawn from a million anonymized student conversations with its chatbots. It suggested that more than half of user interactions could be classified as “collaborative,” involving a dialogue between student and A.I. (Presumably, the rest of the interactions were more extractive.)

May, a sophomore at Georgetown, was initially resistant to using ChatGPT. “I don’t know if it was an ethics thing,” she said. “I just thought I could do the assignment better, and it wasn’t worth the time being saved.” But she began using it to proofread her essays, and then to generate cover letters, and now she uses it for “pretty much all” her classes. “I don’t think it’s made me a worse writer,” she said. “It’s perhaps made me a less patient writer. I used to spend hours writing essays, nitpicking over my wording, really thinking about how to phrase things.” College had made her reflect on her experience at an extremely competitive high school, where she had received top grades but retained very little knowledge. As a result, she was the rare student who found college somewhat relaxed. ChatGPT helped her breeze through busywork and deepen her engagement with the courses she felt passionate about. “I was trying to think, Where’s all this time going?” she said. I had never envied a college student until she told me the answer: “I sleep more now.”

Harry Stecopoulos oversees the University of Iowa’s English department, which has more than eight hundred majors. On the first day of his introductory course, he asks students to write by hand a two-hundred-word analysis of the opening paragraph of Ralph Ellison’s “Invisible Man.” There are always a few grumbles, and students have occasionally walked out. “I like the exercise as a tone-setter, because it stresses their writing,” he told me.

The return of blue-book exams might disadvantage students who were encouraged to master typing at a young age. Once you’ve grown accustomed to the smooth rhythms of typing, reverting to a pen and paper can feel stifling. But neuroscientists have found that the “embodied experience” of writing by hand taps into parts of the brain that typing does not. Being able to write one way—even if it’s more efficient—doesn’t make the other way obsolete. There’s something lofty about Stecopoulos’s opening-day exercise. But there’s another reason for it: the handwritten paragraph also begins a paper trail, attesting to voice and style, that a teaching assistant can consult if a suspicious paper is submitted.

Kevin, a third-year student at Syracuse University, recalled that, on the first day of a class, the professor had asked everyone to compose some thoughts by hand. “That brought a smile to my face,” Kevin said. “The other kids are scratching their necks and sweating, and I’m, like, This is kind of nice.”

Kevin had worked as a teaching assistant for a mandatory course that first-year students take to acclimate to campus life. Writing assignments involved basic questions about students’ backgrounds, he told me, but they often used A.I. anyway. “I was very disturbed,” he said. He occasionally uses A.I. to help with translations for his advanced Arabic course, but he’s come to look down on those who rely heavily on it. “They almost forget that they have the ability to think,” he said. Like many former holdouts, Kevin felt that his judicious use of A.I. was more defensible than his peers’ use of it.

As ChatGPT begins to sound more human, will we reconsider what it means to sound like ourselves? Kevin and some of his friends pride themselves on having an ear attuned to A.I.-generated text. The hallmarks, he said, include a preponderance of em dashes and a voice that feels blandly objective. An acquaintance had run an essay that she had written herself through a detector, because she worried that she was starting to phrase things like ChatGPT did. He read her essay: “I realized, like, It does kind of sound like ChatGPT. It was freaking me out a little bit.”

A particularly disarming aspect of ChatGPT is that, if you point out a mistake, it communicates in the backpedalling tone of a contrite student. (“Apologies for the earlier confusion. . . .”) Its mistakes are often referred to as hallucinations, a description that seems to anthropomorphize A.I., conjuring a vision of a sleep-deprived assistant. Some professors told me that they had students fact-check ChatGPT’s work, as a way of discussing the importance of original research and of showing the machine’s fallibility. Hallucination rates have grown worse for most A.I.s, with no single reason for the increase. As a researcher told the Times, “We still don’t know how these models work exactly.”

But many students claim to be unbothered by A.I.’s mistakes. They appear nonchalant about the question of achievement, and even dissociated from their work, since it is only notionally theirs. Joseph, a Division I athlete at a Big Ten school, told me that he saw no issue with using ChatGPT for his classes, but he did make one exception: he wanted to experience his African-literature course “authentically,” because it involved his heritage. Alex, the N.Y.U. student, said that if one of his A.I. papers received a subpar grade his disappointment would be focussed on the fact that he’d spent twenty dollars on his subscription. August, a sophomore at Columbia studying computer science, told me about a class where she was required to compose a short lecture on a topic of her choosing. “It was a class where everyone was guaranteed an A, so I just put it in and I maybe edited like two words and submitted it,” she said. Her professor identified her essay as exemplary work, and she was asked to read from it to a class of two hundred students. “I was a little nervous,” she said. But then she realized, “If they don’t like it, it wasn’t me who wrote it, you know?”

Kevin, by contrast, desired a more general kind of moral distinction. I asked if he would be bothered to receive a lower grade on an essay than a classmate who’d used ChatGPT. “Part of me is able to compartmentalize and not be pissed about it,” he said. “I developed myself as a human. I can have a superiority complex about it. I learned more.” He smiled. But then he continued, “Part of me can also be, like, This is so unfair. I would have loved to hang out with my friends more. What did I gain? I made my life harder for all that time.”

In my conversations, just as college students invariably thought of ChatGPT as merely another tool, people older than forty focussed on its effects, drawing a comparison to G.P.S. and the erosion of our relationship to space. The London cabdrivers rigorously trained in “the knowledge” famously developed abnormally large posterior hippocampi, the part of the brain crucial for long-term memory and spatial awareness. And yet, in the end, most people would probably rather have swifter travel than sharper memories. What is worth preserving, and what do we feel comfortable off-loading in the name of efficiency?

What if we take seriously the idea that A.I. assistance can accelerate learning—that students today are arriving at their destinations faster? In 2023, researchers at Harvard introduced a self-paced A.I. tutor in a popular physics course. Students who used the A.I. tutor reported higher levels of engagement and motivation and did better on a test than those who were learning from a professor. May, the Georgetown student, told me that she often has ChatGPT produce extra practice questions when she’s studying for a test. Could A.I. be here not to destroy education but to revolutionize it? Barry Lam teaches in the philosophy department at the University of California, Riverside, and hosts a popular podcast, Hi-Phi Nation, which applies philosophical modes of inquiry to everyday topics. He began wondering what it would mean for A.I. to actually be a productivity tool. He spoke to me from the podcast studio he built in his shed. “Now students are able to generate in thirty seconds what used to take me a week,” he said. He compared education to carpentry, one of his many hobbies. Could you skip to using power tools without learning how to saw by hand? If students were learning things faster, then it stood to reason that Lam could assign them “something very hard.” He wanted to test this theory, so for final exams he gave his undergraduates a Ph.D.-level question involving denotative language and the German logician Gottlob Frege which was, frankly, beyond me.

“They fucking failed it miserably,” he said. He adjusted his grading curve accordingly.

Lam doesn’t find the use of A.I. morally indefensible. “It’s not plagiarism in the cut-and-paste sense,” he argued, because there’s technically no original version. Rather, he finds it a potential waste of everyone’s time. At the start of the semester, he has told students, “If you’re gonna just turn in a paper that’s ChatGPT-generated, then I will grade all your work by ChatGPT and we can all go to the beach.”

Nobody gets into teaching because he loves grading papers. I talked to one professor who rhapsodized about how much more his students were learning now that he’d replaced essays with short exams. I asked if he missed marking up essays. He laughed and said, “No comment.” An undergraduate at Northeastern University recently accused a professor of using A.I. to create course materials; she filed a formal complaint with the school, requesting a refund for some of her tuition. The dustup laid bare the tension between why many people go to college and why professors teach. Students are raised to understand achievement as something discrete and measurable, but when they arrive at college there are people like me, imploring them to wrestle with difficulty and abstraction. Worse yet, they are told that grades don’t matter as much as they did when they were trying to get into college—only, by this point, students are wired to find the most efficient path possible to good marks.

As the craft of writing is degraded by A.I., original writing has become a valuable resource for training language models. Earlier this year, a company called Catalyst Research Alliance advertised “academic speech data and student papers” from two research studies run in the late nineties and mid-two-thousands at the University of Michigan. The school asked the company to halt its work—the data was available for free to academics anyway—and a university spokesperson said that student data “was not and has never been for sale.” But the situation did lead many people to wonder whether institutions would begin viewing original student work as a potential revenue stream.

According to a recent study from the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, human intellect has declined since 2012. An assessment of tens of thousands of adults in nearly thirty countries showed an over-all decade-long drop in test scores for math and for reading comprehension. Andreas Schleicher, the director for education and skills at the O.E.C.D., hypothesized that the way we consume information today—often through short social-media posts—has something to do with the decline in literacy. (One of Europe’s top performers in the assessment was Estonia, which recently announced that it will bring A.I. to some high-school students in the next few years, sidelining written essays and rote homework exercises in favor of self-directed learning and oral exams.)

Lam, the philosophy professor, used to be a colleague of mine, and for a brief time we were also neighbors. I’d occasionally look out the window and see him building a fence, or gardening. He’s an avid amateur cook, guitarist, and carpenter, and he remains convinced that there is value to learning how to do things the annoying, old-fashioned, and—as he puts it—“artisanal” way. He told me that his wife, Shanna Andrawis, who has been a high-school teacher since 2008, frequently disagreed with his cavalier methods for dealing with large learning models. Andrawis argues that dishonesty has always been an issue. “We are trying to mass educate,” she said, meaning there’s less room to be precious about the pedagogical process. “I don’t have conversations with students about ‘artisanal’ writing. But I have conversations with them about our relationship. Respect me enough to give me your authentic voice, even if you don’t think it’s that great. It’s O.K. I want to meet you where you’re at.”

Ultimately, Andrawis was less fearful of ChatGPT than of the broader conditions of being young these days. Her students have grown increasingly introverted, staring at their phones with little desire to “practice getting over that awkwardness” that defines teen life, as she put it. A.I. might contribute to this deterioration, but it isn’t solely to blame. It’s “a little cherry on top of an already really bad ice-cream sundae,” she said.

When the school year began, my feelings about ChatGPT were somewhere between disappointment and disdain, focussed mainly on students. But, as the weeks went by, my sense of what should be done and who was at fault grew hazier. Eliminating core requirements, rethinking G.P.A., teaching A.I. skepticism—none of the potential fixes could turn back the preconditions of American youth. Professors can reconceive of the classroom, but there is only so much we control. I lacked faith that educational institutions would ever regard new technologies as anything but inevitable. Colleges and universities, many of which had tried to curb A.I. use just a few semesters ago, rushed to partner with companies like OpenAI and Anthropic, deeming a product that didn’t exist four years ago essential to the future of school.

Except for a year spent bumming around my home town, I’ve basically been on a campus for the past thirty years. Students these days view college as consumers, in ways that never would have occurred to me when I was their age. They’ve grown up at a time when society values high-speed takes, not the slow deliberation of critical thinking. Although I’ve empathized with my students’ various mini-dramas, I rarely project myself into their lives. I notice them noticing one another, and I let the mysteries of their lives go. Their pressures are so different from the ones I felt as a student. Although I envy their metabolisms, I would not wish for their sense of horizons.

Education, particularly in the humanities, rests on a belief that, alongside the practical things students might retain, some arcane idea mentioned in passing might take root in their mind, blossoming years in the future. A.I. allows any of us to feel like an expert, but it is risk, doubt, and failure that make us human. I often tell my students that this is the last time in their lives that someone will have to read something they write, so they might as well tell me what they actually think.

Despite all the current hysteria around students cheating, they aren’t the ones to blame. They did not lobby for the introduction of laptops when they were in elementary school, and it’s not their fault that they had to go to school on Zoom during the pandemic. They didn’t create the A.I. tools, nor were they at the forefront of hyping technological innovation. They were just early adopters, trying to outwit the system at a time when doing so has never been so easy. And they have no more control than the rest of us. Perhaps they sense this powerlessness even more acutely than I do. One moment, they are being told to learn to code; the next, it turns out employers are looking for the kind of “soft skills” one might learn as an English or a philosophy major. In February, a labor report from the Federal Reserve Bank of New York reported that computer-science majors had a higher unemployment rate than ethnic-studies majors did—the result, some believed, of A.I. automating entry-level coding jobs.

None of the students I spoke with seemed lazy or passive. Alex and Eugene, the N.Y.U. students, worked hard—but part of their effort went to editing out anything in their college experiences that felt extraneous. They were radically resourceful.

When classes were over and students were moving into their summer housing, I e-mailed with Alex, who was settling in in the East Village. He’d just finished his finals, and estimated that he’d spent between thirty minutes and an hour composing two papers for his humanities classes. Without the assistance of Claude, it might have taken him around eight or nine hours. “I didn’t retain anything,” he wrote. “I couldn’t tell you the thesis for either paper hahhahaha.” He received an A-minus and a B-plus. 

[leaawrites]

Now Or Never

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: flirting with one of the journalists in the paddock might lead to more than just good words in a magazine.

Warnings: this is part of a series, more will follow

Wordcount: 0.9k

I know, I said I didn't wanna write for him anymore. Sue me for feeling bad with all the hate he's getting lately.

Masterlist, F1 Masterlist

Las Vegas, 2024

Looking out over the paddock, endless familiar faces came her way at the end of another exciting Sunday. Notebook and pen in her hand, she was ready to catch answer that barely made any sense from the drivers in the media pen.

"Hello, George," she started talking as the first man stood in front of her, visibly exhausted from the race. Still a bright smile was etched on the Brit's face. "Congratulations on the race win!"

"Thank you," he answered, letting his shoulders sag in happiness and relief. "It was pretty brutal to be honest."

"Still, you drove amazing as always." A small laugh bubbled out of his dry throat. "Tell me, it was pretty clear at the start that you could bring the win home. How did it feel for you?"

And it went on like that for almost an hour, until she had enough material to satisfy her brain and hopefully the article she got to write later. It weren't all drivers interviewed by her by the time she started packing up her stuff. Just enough to make it a successful day at work.

Because in the end, no matter how some of the drivers may prefer to talk to her instead of other journalists, it was her job. One she enjoyed doing, though one that could be extremely difficult at times. Managing jet lag, multiple different topics to write about and still staying healthy was difficult at times. She could barely complain though in her mind.

It was a dream after all. One she wanted to achieve since high school days. Traveling and writing, as well as getting to meet some of her favourite athletes and celebrities was a dream she got to life.

Putting her phone in her back pocket after turning off the voice recorder as soon as Alex walked off with a friendly smile, she bent down to get her bag from between her feet.

"I can't believe you're leaving without me getting to talk to you," a voice said from the other side of the barriers that kept the two worlds separated. Drivers and journalists.

Lando Norris was leaning on the one in front of her, a smirk dancing on his face even with the tired look he wore. He'd just lost the championship, yet he was smiling as she looked up at him. The strain of the loss visible in his voice.

"Am I too bad for you not wanting to interview me anymore?" he pushed again, arms crossed.

Shaking her head, she stood up again. Thanking him with a smile as he pushed away one of the reporters that wanted to take her place and tried talking to him.

Taking her phone back out, she started the recording. Lando, already aware of her struggles, offered to take the phone from her, turning the microphone her way as she asked her question.

"So, Lando Norris," she scribbled his name on the top of a new page. "P6, how does that feel? It's a big loss in the championship fight."

"It's the end," he answered, turning the mic around to make his voice clearer to her later. "But I'm happy for Max, he deserved it for the way he drove throughout the season even with the car he had. Complaining about how things went won't make it any better now. The car was good as always, it just wasn't our race. With Osc on 7th I think it's clear that we still tried our best. I mean, we already had problems in qualifying and practice, so it's no big surprise to anyone."

She noticed how he spoke slower with longer pauses for her to note down every word he spoke.

"How will the night go on for you then?" she asked another question. It wasn't one she prepared for anyone, just a thought that popped into her head.

A laugh bubbled out of his mouth, similar to George's as she congratulated him on the win.

"Max invited me out, so I guess I'll go wherever he goes." A shrug and his answer seemed finished. "Why? You wanna join us?"

Shaking her head, she shortly set the pen down. "Still got work to do," she reminded him as she waved the notebook at him. "If this isn't finished by tomorrow I'll be in big trouble."

"How long does such an article take? An hour?"

"More like 3 sometimes. If I want it to be a good one."

"I'll help you," he offered like it was nothing. Like journalism was his part time job.

"How are you gonna help me?" she asked truly intrigued now.

Cocking her head to the side to get another point of view for his way of talking to her. It almost seemed like flirting. Serious flirting. Not something you do as a joke between friends but something you do when you're genuinely interested in the person.

"Give you extra information - insider information. Something no one else here has. I know the language of this sport, I could help you write."

"You'll get bored 5 minutes in."

"Please go out with me- us. Go out with us," he quickly recovered from his slip up. "Max would be happy about it as well. It's Las Vegas after all."

"You won't let loose, will you?" she asked again, putting her notebook away again and taking her phone from his hand which was still recording, brushing his fingers in the process.

"Nope."

"If I'm being fired tomorrow you will have to pay my rent."

"I will pay for anything you need," he said, the smile stretching from one side of his face to the other.

"I'll text you!" he shouted before running off to get ready for the night.

[ashenstardust]

Hiiiiiiii author I hope you're doing well <3

So i saw that you're writing for clair obscure (you're the only one i found really 😭) and i wanted to know if you can write something fluffy with Verso ? 😭 (If you're taking requests ?) Idk just pure fluff like he calls her "princess" and is a gentleman to her ? (I'm a hopeless romantic and a sucker for fluff 😭)

Aaand that's it , sending love your way <3

I hope this is okay;;;; If it is not, I am so sorry pls forgib me ;w; Pairing: Verso x Reader Summary: Verso goes out of his way to make sure you're okay when the group is spending the night in camp. Word Count: 929 Rating: G Warnings: Fluff (?), use of nicknames

“Careful, princess,” Verso’s words of warning cut through the quiet copse and make you jump a bit in surprise.

You look over your shoulder, briefly, to see him walking your way. Then you go back to looking over the Curator who stands idly by waiting for someone to engage its skills.

“You might not like what looks back,” Verso says, meeting where you’re standing and casting his gaze at what you’re investigating.

“Its just so interesting,” you marvel, leaning over to try and notice something new from a different angle.

You hear Verso hum an amused, if skeptical, acknowledgment. “Well, I came to ask if you wanted dinner while it was still warm,” he muses, “I know how you scientific types absolutely love to put anything and everything before your own wellbeing.”

You scoff at him, but it carries no weight as you circle around the Curator and fumble through your jacket for your notebook. You flip through the pages quickly to find a blank sheet.

“Are you ignoring me, mademoiselle?” the usual growling cut of Verso’s voice is there and undercut by his feigned, dramatic, offense.

“I’m not ignoring you,” you begin to say.

“But you wish to gain sustenance from scientific discovery and have no need to partake in basic human functions?” he interrupts you.

You slide your eyes to meet his and find his chastisement is coming from a place of concern, not anger. You make a dramatic display of tucking your notebook away and gesture for him to lead on.

A small, slanted smile graces his features as he turns and walks you back to the fire.

You study his back as you go. His concern for you was different from his concern for Maelle. And as you think about his addition to your camp you realize you’d seen him impatient, but you aren’t sure you’ve seen him angry.

Not that you want to see him angry, particularly, he is fierce enough in battle while calm. But, call it scientific folly, you want to see what would happen.

A simple stew was simmering over the fire. You aren’t exactly passing through greener pastures so stew is the best your group can do with what little supplies you have. Verso has been more than helpful on that front too. He knows what plants grow in even the harshest environments, and he knows how to prepare them so they don’t kill you.

Verso waves you to sit, while he grabs two bowls and fills them. You take the time to glance around. It’s dark in the clearing, even with the moon shining on a cloudless sky. You notice there are no other silhouettes. The rest of your small expedition team must’ve already gone down to rest for the night.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks, handing you a warm, full bowl.

You take it, gratefully, and get caught under his stare for a heartbeat. He breaks the moment, seemingly reluctantly, to sit with his own dinner. Your mind comes back to you as do the many questions you’re dying to ask him, most of which you fear you know the answer to. You take up a spoon and eat a few bites instead.

“You know you can tell me anything, princess,” he says, and the nickname he’s chosen to give you makes your blood warm. “I want you to trust me – I want us to trust each other,” he adds.

“Why does it matter?”

Verso gives you a look like he needs you to explain.

“We need you to continue on our journey. Why does it matter if we trust you?”

You watch a glimmer of understanding twinkle in his eyes. He leans forward, and you forget, for a moment, what you’re a part of. “I need you to trust me,” he says, his growling voice is low. You realize he’s telling you a secret. “I need you to trust me because things are only going to get worse, and I know we’re all going to need someone to rely on.”

You let him know you are listening to what he is telling you, and for a long while after you let his words sit between you in silence. You are hungry and you do want to eat something warm for once. And hadn’t he gone out of his way to make sure you take care of yourself?

But soon enough the food is gone, and you don’t feel tired and when you look at Verso, he doesn’t look tired either.

“You think I’ll rely on no one?” you ask, staring into your empty bowl.

“You rely on no one now,” he says with a light laugh. The sound doesn’t help how gravely serious he’s looking at you. “If you rely on no one it will kill you long before any of our enemies get the chance.”

“Okay,” you concede.

Verso stands and offers his hand to you.

You look up at him curiously but take his hand without hesitation. It’s warm and rough with callouses.

“When we get to that point, promise you’ll rely on me too.” You’re cringing a bit at your choice of words, given how the last promise had gone for your group, but felt you meant the words you chose.

For Verso’s part he doesn’t seem at all phased by you. Instead, he allows you to use his hand to stand and begins walking you to where everyone else is sleeping soundly.

“I promise,” he tells you as he leaves you there. You watch him disappear into the shadows before you lay down and finally rest.

[iluvmattsbeard]

so high school (m.s)

master list

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: nothing but fluff

preview: Matt and his friends were seniors in high school, they decided to play a game of kiss, marry, kill in class. when it was Matt’s turn, his friend adds you in the mix. he never quite noticed you before and when he did, he was intrigued. you were two opposites. he ended up passing notes to you in class. you never expected the outcome from all of this.

a/n: this is a long one but, I loved writing it. I saw someone on here ask to write a fic based off so high school. which, I attempted to do! this is my take of how I pictured it in my head. I forgot who it was who posted about it but if you’re the person, here’s my version!

it was almost the end of the school day, Matt was sat down at a table full of his friends. it was technically a free period since testing was held today. "let's play a game." his close friend Nate suggests. "what kind of game?" Chris asks curiously. "kiss marry kill." Nate responds with a grin. it caught Matt's attention, speaking up, "that's a childish game." the group laughs before Nate speaks up again, "well we have nothing better to do." the group looks at Matt, "what do you say? you in?" Nate adds on. "I guess i'll participate." Matt says fixing his posture. "okay who will start?" Nick joins in.

after a few rounds, the boys were laughing from the answers that had passed. it was finally Matt's turn, Chris ended up giving him the options, "okay let's see..." he says looking around the class, "Chloe, Madison, and..." he continues looking and lands his eyes on a girl resting her head on her palm as she read a book, "her I guess." Chris adds on. Matt looks at the girl and tilts his head a bit, "what's her name?" he asks.

"I think it's Y/n." Nick responds looking at you. you lift your head a bit from the sound of your name being said, "Nick, you're too loud." Chris whispers. you just ignored it and continued to read the book in front of you. Matt starts to play the game as he chose you to kill, "I only put her in that spot because I don't know her." he explains. the bell rings and everyone started to get up, including you. you shut your book and placed it in your back pack. Matt got up taking glances at you. you were wearing a white cardigan with jeans. your hair was half way up and half way down. you zipped up your back pack and put it on one of your shoulders only.

before you walk out, you catch a glimpse of Matt's gaze and you smile a bit at him, which he does back, then you walk out. Matt then picked up his back pack and put it on heading out as well. he walked to his car with his brothers and got in buckling up. "you guys don't know anything else about that Y/n girl?" Matt asks causing Nick to raise an eyebrow, "no, why?" he questions while Chris looks at Matt curious as well. "nothing I was just wondering. I thought I knew everyone in that class." he says starting the car. "she just keeps to herself that's why. no one wants to bother her I guess." Nick says. Matt just nods and drives out from the school parking lot.

the next day, your eyes were focused on your computer as you did the assignment for today. Matt was still curious about you, from yesterday's small smiles at each other, he wanted to take the opportunity to get to know you. he took out his notebook and a pencil as he started to write. after he was done, he ripped it out from the notebook and folded it. "hey." he says tapping the girl in front of him, "can you pass it to her?" Matt says looking at you. the girl he asked was behind you. she nods and takes the note, tapping your shoulder. you turn around and look at the folded paper. "it's from Matt." she whispers using her thumb to point behind her. you take the note and turn back around to open it.

'hey, I know you don't know me but, I also don't know you so, I was wondering if you wanted to get to know each other? I found it odd that I know everyone else in here except for you.' - Matt

you smile a bit from the note and pick up your pencil writing back. you handed it back to the girl and she passed it back to Matt.

'hi i'm Y/n. that's really out of the blue but, sure. i'd like to get to know you. also, yeah I get that a lot.' - Y/n

Matt smiles and writes back explaining how he even found out about you. you guys were passing notes the whole class which, the girl in between you ended up switching seats with Matt so he could pass the notes himself.

'so I was apart of your kiss marry kill?' - Y/n

'yeah but don't worry, my choice for you was not personal.' - Matt

you giggle softly to yourself. the bell ended up ringing and you guys left it off at that. you packed your stuff and turned around to give him the same soft smile from yesterday before walking out. for the rest of the day, Matt could not stop thinking about you. "what's on your mind?" Nick asks him. "oh nothing." Matt responds smiling. Chris and Nick just look at each other in a weird way.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

the weekend was finally over and Matt couldn't already wait to get to his last class. when the time comes, he was about to sit down behind you but the teacher stops him. "Matt." Mrs. Dean speaks up causing the boy to stop in his tracks and turn around, "yes?" he asks. "we need to talk about your grade in this class. I heard you aren't doing so well in other classes as well?" she says pulling up his grades. you couldn't help but have the conversation catch your attention as you unzipped your back pack. "Matt, you have to raise these grades or else you'll be suspended from the lacrosse game in a month." the teacher says making Matt's eyes widen, "what? how could I raise my grades that quickly?" he asks. "I don't know Matt but it's possible. you have to really put in the work." she says. Matt just sighs and nods, going to sit at his desk. as time goes by, you turn around and place a note in front of him which makes him look at you and smile a bit.

'I can help you raise your grades if you'd like.' - Y/n

he smiles even more reading it. he immediately writes back taking you on the offer.

'if it's not too much of a hassle, i'd gladly accept your help.' - Matt

'well I did come up with the idea so, it wont be a hassle.' - Y/n

'can I get your number?' - Matt

you ended up writing down your phone number and he thanks you in his actual voice. he started to realize, he hasn't heard your voice, so when you spoke up to say 'you're welcome', he felt his heart start to race a bit. your voice was soft and comforting in a way. even though you only said two words to him.

the next day, you and Matt meet up at one of the picnic tables in the courtyard. "hey." Matt says with a smile walking up to sit in front of you. you smile back, "hi Matt." you greet him. "I'm going to warn you right now, I have a bunch of missing assignments." he says opening his back pack. you let out a soft laugh, "that's fine. you have a month to get it all done. plus, you have extra hands to help you." you reassure him. he smiles and nods, "thank you again." he says pulling out the pile of papers he had inside his back pack. your eyes widen a bit and laugh a bit, "don't thank me yet. we haven't started." you respond while looking at the stack. you both laugh at the same time.

you two have been tackling his missing work for a few days now until one day, he tells you something, "Y/n?" you look up at him and respond, "yes?" "I still want to get to know you better." he says making you look at him with a smile, "well..." you start off, putting your pencil down, "what do you want to know?" he puts down his pencil as well before he speaks, "just tell me stuff that makes you, well you." you laugh a bit before nodding, "well I barely moved to Massachusetts the beginning of senior year, i'm an only child, I enjoy reading in my free time, and let's see..." you pause for a bit. Matt was just sitting there, very drawn to you as you speak. "I don't really know what else I could say." you say with a soft laugh. Matt joins in laughing before he speaks, "I guess I just have to spend more time with you to get more from you." you smile nervously and look away, "well, let's focus on getting this work done." Matt adds on which you agree to.

since you began to help Matt, his friends have been wondering why he's been distant. he was constantly with you and he never told his friends about you. as you guys sat there, his group of friends walk over and tease him, "what is this?" Nate asks with a foolish smile. Matt rolls his eyes and looks at the group, "what are you guys doing here?" he asks. "the question is, what are you doing here? with..." Nate looks at you, "Y/n right?" Nate asks. you nod in silence feeling awkward, "Y/n is helping me complete my missing assignments so I could raise my grades. if I don't raise them, I won't be able to play the lacrosse game coming up." Matt says. Chris widens his eyes, "what? why didn't you tell us?" he asks. "you guys weren't going to be able to help me so Y/n offered." Matt responds looking at you.

"you still could've told us." Nick says before looking at you, "I'm Nick by the way." you smile and greet him back, "nice to meet you." "are you sure you guys are only studying? I mean Matt talks about y-." Chris was cut off by Matt, "okay guys. me and Y/n still have lots to do." the group of boys nod and say their goodbyes, walking away. Matt shakes his head and focuses his eyes on the text book in front of him. you look at him and laugh, "you talk about me?" you ask. he looks up and takes a tiny gulp, "he was just teasing us." Matt tries to cover up from the truth. you just nod, "okay I believe you." you say looking back down with a smile.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

you and Matt were at the usual picnic table at school as you both stood in front of the computer. it's been two weeks since you started to help him. you both stood there waiting for his grades to update. it took a lot of work but, hopefully it was worth it. you and Matt stare at the screen as he clicked refresh one more time. "Y/n!" he says standing up straight. you looked at the screen to see his grades now passing with A's and B's. you turn to look at him and your mouth was open a bit from shock, "you did it Matt!" you exclaim happily. "no, we did it Y/n." he says with a smile hugging you suddenly. your eyes widen a bit but you hugged back slowly, "thank you Y/n." he whispers still embracing you. "you're welcome Matt." you reply as you both pull away. you both stand there now nervously laughing. "let's go show Mrs. Dean." you suggest. the boy nods and you both pack your stuff and walk to her classroom.

the next day, Matt kept bugging you in class with the notes he's been writing.

'Y/n tell me how I can repay you. seriously!' - Matt

'I don't need to be repaid Matt. it was me who offered to help in the first place. i'm just glad I helped you.' - Y/n

'how about I take you to the drive in?' - Matt

your eyes widen a bit from the question. you’ve never been asked to go anywhere especially with a boy. alone. you hover your pencil over the paper as you think about what to say.

‘i’ve never been to the drive in.’ - Y/n

‘well then you’re about to :)’ - Matt

you look back at him and he smiles making you smile as well.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Y/n’s POV

“dad i’ll be back before 9 pm I promise.” I say putting on small hoop earrings. my dad has never been in this situation before, well neither have I, so this was all new for the both of us. “honey, let her finish getting ready.” my mom joins in with a small laugh. “who even is this boy Y/n?” my dad asks curiously. “he’s just a boy from school that I helped out. now, he said he wants to repay me that’s all.” I say putting on chapstick. “do you like this boy?” my mom asks. “yes.” I say bluntly but realize it came off the other way, “as a friend!” I add on. my mom laughs and nods, “okay sweet heart. I’ll get your dad out of your hair.” she says dragging my dad out the room with her.

I look at myself in the mirror and touch up anything that doesn’t look right. my phone suddenly buzzes. I pick it up to see a text from Matt. it was him letting me know he was outside. I get up and put on my shoes, heading out my bedroom and to the front door until I got stopped by my dad. “hold on Y/n.” he says getting up from the couch. “dad please. I have to go.” I say but he walks up to me and opens the door. he takes a look at Matt through his car window. Matt gets out the car and walks up to the door. “hello sir.” Matt says with a smile. “what’s up kid. where are you taking my daughter?” my dad asks. “i’m just taking her to the drive in. it’s to repay her for helping me play this weekend’s game.” Matt says. “you play a sport?” my dad asks now intrigued.

“I play lacrosse.” Matt says with a soft laugh. “that’s awesome. well, you two enjoy the movie. be safe most importantly.” my dad says patting Matt’s shoulder. “thank you dad. bye.” I say walking to Matt’s car. we both get inside and I look at him, “i’m so sorry about him.” I apologize. he laughs softly and starts the car, “why are you saying sorry? it went great.” he reassures me. “I just didn’t think you guys would meet. I mean, he’s never met anyone else before.” I say. he looks at me, “wait, i’m the first guy he’s ever met?” he asks with a slight shocked expression. “yeah…” I say quietly. “is that a problem?” I add on. he smiles and chuckles, “no! i’m just surprised.” he says as he starts to drive off. “what’s so surprising?” I question keeping my eyes on the road.

“I thought a bunch of guys would’ve taken you out by now.” he says. I stay silent for a bit, what is that supposed to mean? “I don’t talk to guys like that.” I utter. “looks like i’m special.” Matt smiles from his words. I just shake my head playfully, “I guess so.” I laugh a bit.

End of Y/n’s POV

later on, you both were sitting there in the car as the movie played on the big screen. Matt wasn’t paying attention that much because all he could focus on was how nervous he was being right next to you. to be completely honest, he hasn’t taken out a girl before. he only cared about his friends and sports so he didn’t think he would have anytime for a relationship but, he just shook off the thoughts. he was just repaying you right? towards the end of the movie, you notice him glancing at you and you caught his eyes. you both sat there as you stared at each other while the movie played through the radio. Matt started to move his eyes to your lips, making you gulp. you two started to lean in slowly but stopped once you guys heard the car next to you start its engine.

you both move away from each other and laugh nervously. the drive home was painfully awkward. when you got home, you laid in bed and buried your face in your pillow. all you could think about now was, what if you guys kissed?

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

a few days pass, you could not get Matt off your mind. you knew he was the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. you just didn’t know what to do with these feelings. besides that near kiss, nothing else happened after. he did invite you to his lacrosse practice later after school.

‘come on. you can watch me practice and try to understand the game.’ - Matt

you stared at the note and thought about what to say. you had the same hesitation from when he asked you to go to the drive in. you gulp and start to write a response.

‘okay fine. i’ll come.’ - Y/n

the bell rings and he stands up grabbing his stuff, shortly after he grabs your hand walking out the classroom. you follow him as you look at the way your fingers entwined. you felt your cheeks turn pink from the gesture. you soon made it out to the grass field. he lets go of your hand and looks at you, “I got to put on my uniform but look out for number four okay?” he says smiling. you nod and smile back as he walks away.

you make your way up onto the bleachers as you sit down away from some people. when all the boys head out on the field, you immediately spot Matt in his number four jersey. you smile and see him point his stick at you which makes you giggle quietly. “hey Y/n.” you turn to see Nick join right next to you. “hi. you don’t play?” you ask. he shakes his head, “absolutely not. I cried and quit the first time I played.” you both laugh at his words.

as the boys started to practice, Nick started to explain the game to you. you were starting to understand the concept and how points work. by the time they finished, Nick claimed you as a pro. “you learn quickly!” he exclaims with a smile. “well, I did help him study. only fair for me to study the game.” you say laughing.

when you arrived home that day, you couldn’t stop thinking about him still. you sat on your bed as you started to think of ways to support him at the game tomorrow. you had the perfect idea.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

you look at yourself in the school bathroom mirror as you smile. today was the day Matt has been anticipating. he was still thanking you all day that he gets to play today. which you kept repeatedly telling him to stop.

Matt

wish me luck today! I hope to hear you in the stands.

you smile at the text and reply.

Y/n

good luck Matt. also, I don’t know about that.

you head out the bathroom and make your way out to the bleachers. you wanted to be close to the front so Nick saved you a seat. “thank you for giving me one of his jerseys.” you say to Nick. “of course! he’s going to love seeing you in it.” he responds. you and Nick engage in conversation as he tells you child hood stories about the three of them. you two were laughing and getting along. “i’m so glad Matt started talking to you. I feel like none of us wanted to reach out to you because we thought you didn’t want anybody bothering you.” Nick lets out making you laugh softly.

you hear a person through the speakers introduce the team and you instantly switch your attention towards the field. the team runs out onto the field and everybody starts to cheer, including you.

Matt’s POV

when me and my team run out onto the field, I instantly search for Y/n in the stands. when I finally see her, I couldn’t help but notice her shirt. it was my jersey. it looked a little big on her and I laughed to myself. she looked amazing. I pointed my lacrosse stick at her and she just gave thumbs up with a smile. I definitely need to do good for her.

End of Matt’s POV

during the game, you were so focused on Matt that you started to realize how good he was. he was absolutely crushing everyone on the opposite team. it was down to the final countdown. you were at the edge of your seat with Nick as you guys watch Matt with the ball, he starts to run and push past the opponents as he throws the ball straight to the net, making the final goal. everybody stands up and cheer as you and Nick jump up and down. “let’s go Matt!” you yell out. you were so caught up in the moment you didn’t realize you really put yourself out there cheering for him. Matt takes off his helmet and runs towards the stands. you walk down the bleachers as he drops the stick and helmet onto the ground. you embrace him in a hug as he wraps his arms around your waist, picking you up slightly.

“good job Matt!” you exclaim happily. “I couldn’t do it without you.” he says. it made your heart melt but you were also confused, “what do you mean?” you say pulling away smiling. “I was thinking about you the whole time. it was my motivation.” he says smiling. your heart started to beat fast. “Matt… that’s so sweet…” you say. he scratches the back of his neck shyly, “yeah…” he says. it was the same awkward feeling from the car ride home back from the drive in. “let me go change into my actual clothes and i’ll meet up with you in the parking lot okay?” he says. you nod and smile.

later on, you were standing in the parking lot as you waited. he eventually came out from the school building and greets you with a smile. you just stood there still feeling awkward. your feelings for him were growing stronger and you couldn’t take it anymore. “nice jersey by the way.” he says opening his trunk with a smile. “thank you very much.” you smile a bit. you watched him put his equipment in his trunk as he noticed your body language. “is something bothering you?” he asks shutting the trunk.

Y/n’s POV

my heart was racing. how do I tell him how I feel? “Y/n?” he speaks up looking at me with concern. “Matt… I don’t know how to put this into words.” I say quietly. he leans back on the car as he responds, “it’s okay. take your time.” I stand there and look away with a nervous laugh before looking back at him, “well… i’ve been feeling a certain way lately. ever since I met you, I knew there was something different about you. I mean you went out of your way to talk to me when no one else would.” I pause for a moment, I can’t believe i’m doing this, “remember when you said you’re special and I said I guess? well, it’s not I guess. it’s yes, you are special. i’m sorry if this is too much.” I stop myself. “no keep going.” he says with a reassuring smile. I let out a breath, “what i’m trying to say is…” I stop looking at my feet nervously before looking back up at him, “no one’s ever had me… not like you. like today, I didn’t even know I could cheer that loud. when we aren’t together, I constantly think about you and when I lay there, I can’t help but wonder if you feel the same.” I say.

he stands up straight getting off the car. “that’s actually crazy.” he says catching me off guard. “what?” I ask stunned. he laughs nervously before talking, “i’ve been feeling the same way Y/n. like I said earlier, you were my motivation the whole game. when we first started talking, I already felt like my heart was going to beat out my chest. when we went to the drive in, I should’ve just told you then. I was having these thoughts ever since. every day, I look forward to seeing you. that has never happened to me before. I feel the same way Y/n.” he says making me feel much more at ease. “you really mean that?” I ask with a slight smile. “of course I do Y/n.” he says grabbing my hands softly, interlocking them.

End of Y/n’s POV

“so what now Matt?” you ask looking into his eyes. “what do you think?” he asks with a smile. you stayed quiet for a bit before asking him a question, “are you gonna marry kiss or kill me?” he smiles at the familiar question, “for now, I think i’ll go with kiss.” he says pulling you in by your intertwined hands, unlocking them, placing his hands on your face kissing you softly. you place your arms around his neck as you tip toe yourself up to reach him better. he moves his hands down, wrapping his arms around your lower waist as he picks you up slightly, without breaking the kiss. you never would’ve imagined high school being like this. finally finding a boy who you knew you could give yourself to. you both continue to kiss, smiling in between kisses and eventually pulling away. you both had your foreheads touching as you both laughed softly in each other’s arms.

a/n: sorry if this is so long! likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated.

[floralcyanide]

― ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴊᴀᴠɪ

After realizing you've had enough of being single, you decide to branch out further into your romantic life on a whim. What you don't expect is to meet someone as a result. or ; In which you converse in letters and phone calls with Javi Rivera, an active-duty military man.

part two

↝ pairing: Javier "Javi" Rivera / Fem!Reader

↝ warnings: long distance, reader has anxiety, kinda slow burn?, kissing, mentions of death

↝ word count: 5.3k

↝ author's note: I enjoyed writing this so much. this is the first time I've written something this long in a while. I hope ya'll enjoy! there will definitely be a part two and it's gonna be spicy so be prepared. (;

masterlist ⋇ divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀ��ᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Your dating life has reached a new low. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge- none of them work for you despite your incessant attempts. It’s so bad that your friends have set you up on blind dates, all of which fail or turn into what people like to call situationships. You end up wasting your time on someone thinking it’s going great, and then suddenly, it ends in a fiery crash or sometimes plain old rejection. You’re so tired of dating. Even your university campus has no luck in the dating pool. But then, one night (after drinking too much box wine and scrolling through dating apps begrudgingly), your best friend has an idea.

“Have you ever like, dated long distance?” they ask, swirling their wine around their glass.

“Not really,” you shrug, taking a sip from yours, “I feel like it’d be harder than dating someone close by, which is already a lot.”

“True,” they sigh, “Ooh! Maybe use one of those pen pal apps?” 

“Pen pal apps?” you raise an eyebrow, locking your phone before tossing it on the couch in disgust, “What am I, nine years old?”

Your best friend rolls their eyes, “It’s not something just kids do, you know. A lot of people make genuine connections through letters. It’s a lot better than Tinder or some shitty dating app at this point. You may as well try.”

“I guess you’re right,” you glance down at your phone, “I’m running out of options here.”

After Googling and scrolling through search results, you hum, “Maybe I could do one of the military pen pal programs. That seems promising.”

“Yes! Get you a military man!” your best friend squeals, and you can’t help the giddy smile that grows on your lips.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you say, and your best friend shakes your shoulder excitedly, “But if it doesn’t work out, I’m just going to die alone, I guess. At this point, it’s less stressful.”

Your best friend snorts, “If we make it to thirty and we’re both still single, we could get married.”

“I love you, but if I had to spend the rest of my life with you, I’d probably go insane.”

“You have some killer jokes, kid. You’re already stuck with me, so sorry.”

That following day, you do a deep dive into all things pen-palling. You decide to sit down at your desk and type up a letter, but it feels too wrong like it needs to be handwritten instead. So, you move your laptop aside, pull out some notebook paper and a pencil, and start your first letter. Except, you aren’t sure what to say first. Then, when you start writing, your handwriting annoys you, and after that, you think your tone is off. You end up scrapping half a tree by the time you start actually writing a decent letter. You introduce yourself and state where you’re from, explaining you’re in college and what you wish to do after graduating. You don’t dive into too much detail but give enough away so your possible pen pal has something to respond to. You also sprinkle in some questions for them to answer as well. You reread your letter, finally satisfied with what you’ve written, before folding it and sliding it into an envelope. You go back to your phone to see where to send the letter, writing down the location along with your name and address on the front.

Life goes on for a little while, and you actually forget you sent a letter to some random person in the military until one day, your best friend is sifting through the mail you tossed onto your counter.

“Uhh, what’s this?” they call out from the kitchen as you surf through Netflix in the living room.

“What’s what?”

“You got a letter from some dude named Javier?” your best friend says it as more of a question than a statement.

You scrunch up your nose and eyebrows in confusion before finally settling on a show you and your best friend have seen a million times already, walking into the kitchen.

“Let me see.”

Your best friend hands over the letter, and you scan the envelope carefully. Javier Rivera. It doesn’t sound familiar to you, but then you notice where the letter is from.

“Oh shit,” you flip the envelope over and tear it open.

“What is it?”

“It’s the pen pal thing!” you say, voice raised in shock, “I didn’t think someone would actually respond.”

“Oh yeah,” your best friend nods, “I forgot about that. I figured you chickened out on it because you never mentioned it again.”

“I didn’t chicken out,” you trail off, taking in the meticulous handwriting of the letter.

Dearest Pen Pal,

Thank you for sending your letter. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much it meant to me to receive it. I’m Javier, but everyone calls me Javi. I’m the same age as you and have been to college myself. I joined the military for personal reasons, but I haven’t regretted it yet. Your career path seems interesting, and I hope you succeed in the rest of your studies. 

Your best friend hovers over your shoulder, also reading the letter.

“He seems cute,” your best friend giggles.

Javi answers some of your random questions and goes on to say he anticipates your next letter. He also says that if you’d like, he’d send a photo of himself next time. Your best friend has a field day with that.

“Oh my gosh! What if he’s hot?” they gasp.

“Who knows? I wouldn’t care if he wasn’t, anyway. It’s cool to talk to someone I’ve never met over letters.”

“True. But bonus points if he is hot.”

You scoff as you fold the letter up and put it back in the envelope.

When your best friend leaves later on, you immediately bolt to your desk and write your letter. 

Dear Javi,

I’m glad my letter found you well. Thanks for the hope in me, I definitely need it. College is fun, but it’s super exhausting. I don’t think I asked in my last letter, but where are you from? Also, what did you major in while in school? I’d love to see what you look like and put a face to your name. What military branch are you in, and what do you want to do with your experience when you’re back in the States? Sorry for all the questions again! I’m just super curious about things. If this letter reaches you sooner than later this time around, I hope you have a great Thanksgiving.

You wrap up your letter, albeit a little shorter than the last one, and slip it into your mailbox ASAP. This time, you won’t forget you sent it.

When the following letter arrives, it’s early December. You hastily remove your scarf, coat, and wet snow boots at your front door before opening the letter immediately. When you pull the letter from the envelope, a photo falls onto the floor. You pick it up, and it’s a small picture of who you assume is Javi, all decked out in his military uniform. Okay, your best friend was right on the money, he is pretty cute.

Dearest Pen Pal,

I had a decent Thanksgiving. I hope yours was better than mine! I’m from Miami, Florida. I went to school in Muskogee, Oklahoma, and while I was there, I studied weather phenomena and chased storms. It was a whole thing, but I’ll get into that later. And I don’t mind all the questions. I think it’ll be fun getting to know each other. 

Javi explains what branch he’s in and also admits he doesn’t know what he’s going to do after the military as of yet. He talks about his Thanksgiving and wishes you a Merry Christmas if he doesn’t get to communicate with you before then. You decide to send a photo of yourself back to him, digging out your Polaroid camera when you go to your bedroom to respond to his letter. You touch up your makeup a little and make sure your hair isn’t absolutely a mess before taking a photo. Sitting down to write your letter, you aren’t sure how to react to the photo Javi sent. You don’t want to be weird, but you also want him to know that you think he’s attractive. 

Dear Javi,

I love the photo you sent, and you look pretty dapper in your uniform. I’m sending a picture of myself, too. Chasing storms sounds very interesting. Please tell me more about that! 

You rattle off some things you have done while in school, talking about the places you have traveled to over the years and the people you’ve met. You gush about your best friend, especially. 

So far, you’re probably the most intriguing person I’ve talked to, Javi. Not everyone can say they’re a storm chaser, you add. 

You polish off your letter, which ends up being two pages long (three if you count the back on the first page, too.) You neatly fold up the paper and slide it into an envelope. You don’t expect a reply until New Year because of the amount of mail that will be coming in and out of the base. Javi is stationed on the other side of the country from you and may be moved out of the country if needed. 

As you expected, it isn’t until a month and a half later that you receive a letter from Javi again. It’s a long letter- a few pages total this time. The letter is in a Christmas card, and it’s signed by Javi. You immediately hang the card on your refrigerator door so you can look at it daily. He talks about how his holidays went, how all the guys on his base called home or were able to FaceTime their family. Javi asks how your holidays have gone and showers you with compliments over the photo you sent him. You can’t help but feel your stomach flutter at his words. 

Over the next few months, you and Javi write back and forth diligently. You know just about everything about Javi, and he knows almost everything about you. You feel like there’s something he’s keeping from you, possibly the storm chasing he had brought up, but you don’t push it. He will tell you when he’s ready. And there’s also some stuff about your life you’d rather wait to explain as well. In your last letter, you wrote your email and phone number so that Javi can communicate with you in other ways. You’re able to guess how long it takes the letters to get to Javi, so around the time you expect them to get to him, you’re giddy. You anxiously await a phone call or email any day now.

It’s August when your phone rings with a call from an unknown number. You have had such a long day- school for several hours, then work immediately after in the evening. You can’t help but wonder who could be calling at 9 pm. You make yourself comfy on the couch with your favorite beverage before answering the phone.

“Hello?” 

“Hi, it’s Javi. Is this the right number?”

You nearly choke on your sip of drink, “Oh shit. Hi! Yes, this is the right number!”

Javi laughs from the other end, and you decide you want to hear that laugh again so badly. 

“Sorry I’m calling so late over there. The phone was surprisingly available, and I got your letter today saying I could call. So I did,” Javi said.

“It’s okay,” you shrug, even though he can’t see, “I just got home from work, actually. So perfect timing.”

“Great. How was your day?”

The two of you spend about an hour on the phone, relishing having an actual conversation in real time.

“I’m so glad to finally hear your voice,” Javi says after a natural pause in conversation, “That’s not too cheesy, right?”

You snort, “It kind of is, but it’s cute. I’m glad to hear your voice, too.”

After another ten minutes, Javi sadly admits that he has to hang up since it’s almost dinner time where he is. 

“We should talk again sometime if you’re able to,” you smile, biting at your fingernail nervously.

You hope he calls again, but letters will always suffice just fine.

“I’ll try my best. Maybe sometime next week?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say, pulling the phone away from your ear so you can silently kick your feet in excitement.

“Alright, then. Talk to you later,” Javi says.

“See ya,” you grin, and the call concludes.

It isn’t the following week that he calls, but the week after that. Javi discloses that he sent a surprise in the letter he just mailed. He also slips up and says it’s almost his birthday, and you immediately have an idea. After your long conversation on the phone, asking some questions here and there about certain things he likes that you didn’t already know before, you decide to send Javi a package.

You send a postcard from your home state, some non-perishable snacks, socks that were his favorite color that he could wear when not on base, notebooks he could write letters in, some fun pens to go with the notebooks, and a birthday card. After signing it, you leave a lip print on the card just to test the waters. You’ve come to really like Javi over the last year, and you wonder if he likes you back. Sometimes, he’ll be flirty in letters or over the phone, but nothing too crazy. Nothing that gives you alarm bells that he likes you in the way that you like him. So, you’re taking a leap of faith. 

A few weeks after sending the package, you get Javi's phone call while doing some class work at your desk. You spin around in the chair aimlessly as you answer the phone.

“A kiss, huh? That’s cute.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little something to remind you of me,” you say.

“It’s definitely not nothing,” Javi teases, “I think you want to kiss me.”

 Your ears grow hot at the sound of Javi’s voice deepening in playfulness.

“And so what if I do? There’s nothing you can do about it,” you bite back with just as much playfulness.

“Are you sure about that?” Javi says, a knowing lilt in his voice.

“What do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows, stopping the chair from spinning entirely so you can focus.

“I’m most likely coming home for Christmas this year, but I still have to work out some stuff,” Javi says, an edge of excitement in his voice, “I’d like to possibly see you.”

“Oh,” you say, your voice squeaking, “Really? You want to see me?”

“Of course I wanna see you,” Javi chuckles, “We’ve been corresponding for a while. I’d like to finally see you in person.”

You suddenly feel like you’re going to throw up, but in a good way. You’re sick with nervous excitement. 

“O-okay,” you grin, “I’ll be finished with the semester at the beginning of December. Depending on when and where you want to meet, I can ask off from work.”

Javi has family not too far from where you live, and he wants to stop and see, so the two of you agree to meet in a city that’s basically halfway. December 20th is the day you’re supposed to meet Javi after a year of conversing through letters and over the phone. Who would have thought, right? That some random idea from your best friend would have led you here? Speaking of which, your best friend is beside themselves with excitement just like you. You called them immediately after hanging up with Javi.

“When you get married, make sure to thank me!” they say half-jokingly.

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes, trying to stifle a grin, “What if we don’t like each other when we meet, though? What if it’s awkward? What if we don’t have anything to talk about? What if-”

“Hush!” your best friend shushes you, “It will go fine. It will go great. In fact, you’re going to have a splendid time.”

“I guess you’re right,” you sigh, eyeballing the photo of Javi you have pinned to your corkboard over your desk.

“I’m always right,” your best friend giggles.

It’s now the end of your semester, and you’re beyond excited for a few reasons. In a week, you meet Javi, and this coming Spring semester is your last. So, for the time being, you’ll be finished with college. You come home from your final exam and start making a packing list. You’re staying at a hotel in the city where you’re meeting Javi for a day or two, depending on how things go. You have so much to do before going on the mini trip that if you didn’t have a list planned out for everything, your head would surely fly off your shoulders. You have to wrap gifts for your friends and family, pack your bag, clean your apartment, and put up decorations for the party you and your best friend are throwing for Christmas. 

Deciding to surprise Javi, you get him a gift for Christmas. It’s a wool sweater you think will fit nicely and a beautiful, deep color that you figure will compliment his skin tone. You carefully put the sweater in a robe box, taping the sides shut and signing your name on the tag before putting it under the Christmas tree. You managed to put up the large tree by your lonesome and didn’t kill yourself doing it, so you considered it a win. After wrapping a few more gifts and stuffing them under your tree, you check the time. It’s a little past dinnertime, and you decide it’s probably best to finally pack your bag for tomorrow. 

A melatonin gummy is definitely in your future so you can get some sleep, or else you’ll toss and turn in an anxious fit all night. After finishing up packing as lightly as you can muster, you settle into bed. When you wake in the morning, you get a text from an unknown number, which you assume is from Javi’s cell, letting you know he is getting on his flight. You almost quite literally jump out of bed before hitting the shower and getting ready. You take your time fixing your hair and makeup, picking out a cute but comfortable outfit for your 2-hour drive. 

After getting your belongings and the gift inside your car, you shoot your best friend a text letting them know you’re leaving your apartment and that you’ll text when you get to the airport. Taking a few deep breaths, you crank your car and head off. You are deep in your thoughts the entire ride, not evening singing along to your music most of the time. What if Javi decides he isn’t impressed by what he sees? You try to push away your anxiety as you near the airport. Finding parking after circling around for a while, you hurry to grab the gift and go inside. It’s hectic, considering it’s five days until Christmas, but you get through TSA without a hitch. You find the coffee shop where you and Javi agreed to meet and sit at a table in the corner. You scroll through social media, trying not to panic. You text back and forth with your best friend for a while until you receive a message from Javi saying he’s landed. Suddenly, an icy, numbing nervousness runs through your veins. You take a deep breath and tell yourself it will be okay, and everything will be fine. 

You decide to meet Javi at his gate and return to the coffee shop. Getting up from your seat, you shake yourself off a little before walking to the gate where Javi is to exit his flight. You aimlessly check your phone every five minutes out of anxiety. People start to leave from the corridor, dragging their carry-ons with them. Suddenly, you spot Javi walking out with the crowd, his face turned downward at his phone. When he looks up, he has to do a double-take when he sees you. You can’t help the grin that plasters your face.

“Hi,” Javi grins back as he approaches you, taking in your appearance fully for the first time, “Is it okay if I hug you?”

“You don't have to ask, silly,” you roll your eyes playfully, setting the gift by your feet before allowing Javi to pull you into him.

You wrap your arms around him, your nose buried in his shoulder. He’s dressed in his uniform, much to your delight, meaning you get to see how handsome he looks in person. 

“Don’t tell me that’s for me,” Javi gives you a jokingly dissatisfied look when he pulls away from you, his eyes darting to the gift beside you. 

“Would you kill me if it was?” you say, picking it up and handing it to him.

“Nah,” Javi waves you off, leaning down to dig in his carry-on for something, “Besides, I got you something, too.”

“Javi,” you drag out his name in annoyance, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. It’s Christmas,” Javi smiles, secretly enjoying how you say his name in person.

You both go to baggage claim and the coffee shop before opening your gifts. You and Javi match each others’ stride, your hands accidentally brushing against one another a few times. Finally, Javi decides to throw caution to the wind and grabs your hand, sliding his fingers between yours. You glance down before smiling at him, trying to hide how giddy you are from the simple gesture. When you arrive at the coffee shop, you sit in the same corner you were previously in and settle in your seats.

“So,” Javi slides his gift over to you, pulling his toward him, “What’d you get me?”

“Why don’t you open it and see?” you lean over the table in wait, your smile from earlier still not quite leaving your lips.

“That I will do,” Javi says, carefully opening his gift.

“This is a lovely color,” he pulls the sweater out and fully takes it in, “Very soft. You did a great job because I love sweaters.”

“I’m glad you love it,” you sink into your seat with relief.

“Now, open yours,” Javi pushes your gift in your direction with a single finger. 

“Is it going to explode in my face?” you joke as you pull the wrapping off.

“I swear it won’t,” Javi laughs.

You open the box to reveal a beautiful necklace with your birthstone dangling from the chain. 

“This looks expensive, Javi. Please tell me you didn’t spend an arm and a leg on this,” you gasp.

“No promises,” Javi shrugs, getting up from his seat and walking behind you, holding out a hand for the necklace, “May I?”

You gently place the jewelry into his palm, lifting your hair so Javi can put the necklace around your neck. His fingers brush your skin lightly as he clasps the chain successfully, “There we go.”

Javi sits and admires how the necklace falls onto your collarbone with a glimmer in his eyes, “Looks beautiful on you.”

You’re nearly this close to being on the floor, curled into an inconsolable ball. Instead of doing that, you cover your face in embarrassment. 

“Gosh, thank you for the gift, Javi,” you move your hands from your face, “I wasn’t expecting something so stunning. I would’ve gotten you something slightly better if I had known.”

“You can’t sit here and tell me this wool sweater wasn’t pricey enough. It’s okay, you know. Besides, I like giving gifts I know someone will love; the price doesn’t matter.”

You sigh, shaking your head with a smile and resting your chin on your fist, “Whatever you say, Javi.”

Javi mimics your position but reaches his other hand out to wrap it around your wrist gently, “I love it when you say my name.”

You stare at each other momentarily, just taking each other in. It had been a year of wondering what Javi was like in person- how tall he was, how he smelled, how he carried himself. You realize he has a million freckles on his face that you never noticed in the photos he sent. Javi brushes his thumb over your pulse point, and you’re close to losing your composure. You’re both so wrapped up in drinking each other in that you nearly jump out of your skin when the barista calls someone’s name for their order.

You compose yourself, but Javi lightly chuckles at your facial expression.

“I’m super awkward sometimes, but you know that already,” you try to joke about the situation instead of dying of shyness. 

“It’s okay, I think it’s cute.”

“You’re going to make me turn into a puddle if you don’t stop,” you cover your face again, the tips of your ears burning.

Javi just laughs again. You realize his laugh is better in person than over the phone.

Over your order of coffee and iced tea, you and Javi decide to have a proper dinner later on in the day. Both of you are pretty tired and would appreciate refreshing yourselves at your respective hotels first. You hold hands again while exiting the airport and offer Javi a ride to where he’s staying.

“It’s just a walk down the block. I’ll be fine.”

“But it’s cold,” you frown.

“I’ll live, I promise.” Javi pulls your head to his chest before planting a kiss on the top of it.

Your body grows warm at the endearing gesture, “See you later?’

“See you later,” Javi smiles before making his way out of the parking garage.

You immediately call your best friend when you get in the car and discuss how the initial meeting went while on your way to the hotel.

“Did you kiss?!” they squeal.

“Not yet,” you say, “I don’t expect anything to happen today. We held hands, though.”

“Spicy!” your best friend says, “Next thing you know, you’ll be having kids.”

“Will you ever be quiet?” you jokingly ask your best friend.

You take a well-needed nap after checking into the hotel, setting an alarm for an hour from the time you laid down. When you wake up, you notice it’s snowing outside. The place Javi wants to take you is a few blocks away from his and your hotels, and you figure you’ll enjoy the snow during your walk.

You fix your makeup a little and add some final touches here and there to your face and hair before deciding on one of the skirts you brought. A thick sweater and some tights are thrown with it, and you’re ready to go. Javi shoots you a message asking if you’re ready, and you respond quickly before leaving the hotel. The evening is pleasant, with the snow falling softly for the entire duration of your walk. When you arrive at the restaurant, Javi is waiting for you at the door, as handsome as ever in some black slacks, a dress shirt, and a heavy petticoat draped over his shoulders. He wraps an arm around you as you both enter the restaurant, where you’re immediately whisked away to a table with a nice view. Wine is ordered, and you take a moment to drink Javi in as he sits across from you. You nearly have to pinch yourself to believe this is real and actually happening.

“So,” you lean forward, hand tucked under your chin, “You never told me about your endeavors while in college. I’ve been dying to know about that storm chasing you brought up but never knew when to ask.”

Javi smiles, “Yes, it was a very wild time in my life. I don’t talk about it often. What did you want to know?”

“Why did you do it? Just curious.”

“Well, Javi clears his throat, “It was actually my best friend Kate’s idea. She had this big project that required extensive information about storms and tornadoes in particular.”

“Gotcha,” you lean back in your chair, “Ever see any scary storms?”

“We saw a few, but the scariest one was a five on the Fujita scale. It didn’t end very well for us,” Javi casts his eyes down.

“You don’t have to keep talking about it if you don’t want to,” you reach out your hand to put on top of Javi’s, sensing the topic is touchy.

“No, it’s something you need to know about me. So I’ll tell you,” he explains, “It was me, Kate, and three of our other friends, Addy, Praveen, and Jeb, working on the project together. We didn’t anticipate the tornado to be as strong as it got, and everyone but Kate and I ended up dying as a result of being caught in the storm.”

“I’m so sorry, Javi. That sounds scary and awful. I’m glad you made it through that,” you frown, and Javi meets your eyes for a moment.

“Sometimes I wonder why I’m one of the ones who survived. It bothered me a lot, so much that I decided to drop out of college and go into the military. I needed some stability in my life after that.”

“I understand,” you say, “We can talk about something else if you’d like. I know this is probably hard for you to think about.”

The rest of the evening is spent laughing over stories of Javi and his late friends and the ones he’s made in the military. You tell him wild stories of you and your best friend, some of which he couldn’t believe. After a few too many glasses of wine, the two of you decide to call it a night. 

“I had a wonderful time,” you say as Javi hooks your arm with his, and the two of you leave the restaurant.

It’s still snowing lightly, and the temperature has dropped significantly. You pull your coat closer to your chest. Javi notices and opts to wrap his arm around you, pulling you into his side to warm you. 

“I had a great time, too,” Javi grins. 

He walks you to your hotel, and you thank him for dinner. 

“Heading out in the morning?” you ask as the two of you stand outside the hotel entrance.

“Yes,” Javi says, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, “I’m seeing my aunt and uncle and then heading to Miami for my parents and sister.”

“That’s good,” you nod, “I am having a Christmas party with some friends and family in a  few days, and I’m looking forward to it.”

“Sounds fun,” Javi says, and you notice the two of you don’t really want to depart quite yet, but you must.

“You should probably get back. It’s getting cold and late,” you nudge Javi’s arm with yours.

“Yeah, I should,” he trails off, his eyes not leaving yours.

For a moment, you stare into Javi’s eyes, taking in their color and the length of his eyelashes. Before you realize it, you’re both leaning in. Javi slides his hand up your neck to cup your face, his skin warm despite the freezing air. He guides your face to his, his eyes fluttering shut as he gently presses his lips to yours. Your eyes close, too, and you allow Javi to take control of the kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. When it’s time for air, you both pull away.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” Javi whispers, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

“Same here,” you say, playing with the curls at the nape of Javi’s neck.

“I should get going,” Javi frowns, “But I will definitely keep in touch the best I can over the next few days.”

“Okay,” you say, “Enjoy your Christmas.”

Javi begins to walk away, and you turn to go inside your hotel. But then Javi pauses, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Wait, what are you doing New Year's Eve?” he asks, and you can’t help the grin that sneaks up on your face.

“Depends. What are you doing?”

“Anything with you.”

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes Chapter 6

masterpost

“Have you experienced events that could be described as fatal?” Danny read from his notebook. Before Jason could answer he continued, “Do you know the name and species of all your progenitors? Have you ever wondered if you are-” 

Jason held a hand up to ask for silence. He was in the zone on a training module that Barbie had sent to the whole team. He was not going to get any more shit from fucking Tim and Stephanie about being an out of touch old man like Bruce who ran code directly from the 90s.

Danny cut himself off to wait. Without looking up, Jason could see some kind of bouncing movement that had to be Danny fidgeting. “You’re early,” Jason eventually said. He shut the program that he’d been running and then blinked his full attention over to his date. “It’s not- is it 5 already?” He blinked away the gumminess in his eyes and checked the time. 

Danny flushed a little green. His freckles glowed a little whiter in contrast. “No, it’s 4:30,” he admitted sheepishly. “I, uh, left work a little early.” He floated up and then abruptly over into a flip. Like an antsy mermaid. Jason leaned back and watched, fascinated by how easy movement looked on Danny. It was the way he’d used to see Dick, but now he knew how hard Dick’s easy mobility was earned.

“You don’t feel gravity at all, do you?” He confirmed, envious and charmed. 

“Uhh.. Can’t say that I do,” Danny admitted. He shrugged. “Not like this, anyway. I do in my human body, obviously.”

“Is that literally-” Jason cut himself off with a mortified flush. Holy shit. You can’t just ask someone if they have a magical transformation into their own corpse. Insensitive much?

Danny gave him a knowing look but gracefully ignored the question. “Anyway. Do you remember what I asked earlier?” He cocked his head to the side and full body wiggled. “I had Frostbite help me write them out. Undead health isn’t really my area, but he knows everything that’s ever been known, which is pretty cool.”

“Uh…” Jason thought back. “I told you when we were eating that I died once,” he reminded Danny with a raised eyebrow. “So that’s an easy yes.”

Danny shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t know how serious you were or if you were describing something extremely short term like needing afib or something longer term-”

“Dead, buried, in the ground for months,” Jason admitted. “Presumably rotted, but I came back to myself with living human physiology, if extremely damaged from what killed me.” It was really gross to think about. It was also impossible to totally avoid. There should have been no coming back from all the blood drying up and shit.

Danny stared at him with an open mouth for a few seconds. Long enough that Jason fidgeted, uncomfortable.

“That’s the most metal shit I’ve ever heard in my life,” Danny said reverentially. “That’s so nasty, man. You rotted? Does this make me more of a necrophiliac than you?”

Jason choked on his own spit.

Danny did another flip.

“My parents were definitely human,” Jason managed, voice strangled. Best to get this back on topic. “I know for sure. I’ve met them both.”

Danny blew a raspberry. “It’s not always obvious,” he pointed out 

“Anything that would show up on Batman’s DNA analysis can be ruled out,” Jason corrected himself. “And neither of them had any non-human capabilities. Died from things that a Tamaraean or Kryptonian would be able to get out of.” 

“...Oddly specific species mentions,” Danny said. A line formed between his brows. His toes touched down to earth and he crossed his arms. “You… I wasn’t thinking of that type of non-human.” He cleared his throat. “It’s just that, you touched Wolf.”

“And a Kryptonisn wouldn’t be able to?” Jason asked a bit dryly. He didn’t understand the logic.

“Not unless they were really juicy with death,” Danny said in a weirdly mellow tone for such a disgusting sentence.

Jason gagged a little. He couldn’t help it. Oh, christ. Yeah, bodies got wet and shit after a while, but characterizing that as juicy? That was out of line.

“Not like- not like that!” Danny fluttered his hands at Jason, torn between horror and cackling. “I don’t mean like, dead and rotting. I mean dead and reanimated with ectoplasm. Souped with the sweet nectar of the afterlife. Wolf is a ghost, man.” He snickered.

“Wolf is a ghost,” Jason repeated.

Danny frowned. “Wolf,” he said. “Not Wolf.”

“What?” They sounded the same.

“You’re saying it wrong,” Danny said, saying the name the exact same way that Jason had been. “It’s Wolf, not Wolf.”

Jason stared at him warily. “...Spell it for me.”

“W-U-L-F,”  Danny rattled.

Ah. Ok. Jason took that onboard. “Wulf is a ghost,” he said again. “And therefore I ought not be able to touch him. I can touch you.”

“Like this? For sure.” Danny went through his flashbang light-show and shook out his newly black hair. “I’m a physical being. In my ghost form, I can consciously let you touch me. But Wulf was actively in the Ghost Zone when you hit him. You put your hand into the Ghost Zone and smacked him. The living have ghostly properties in the Ghost Zone. He’s tangible there but you should have been intangible.”

“...Maybe I’m a ghost?” Jason posited, cocking his head slightly as he said it. Danny was the expert. “I never found any answer for why I just woke up in my grave one day.”

“You just woke up?” Danny repeated, delighted. He put his hands on his face, breathed into them heavily, and then ran both hands through his hair. “That’s sick. That’s fucking sick, man. Did you have to dig yourself out like a zombie?”

…Did Danny think this was like, hot, and not disturbing? “Tore off my fingernails on the coffin splinters,” Jason confirmed, fascinated with what a little freak this guy was. Danny’s pupil dilated at the words. Jason could almost have been offended because that shit was traumatic, but hey. 

If he really thought about it. It was sick as fuck.

“I think yes, by the way,” Jason decided. He waited for Danny to give him a questioning look  before he elaborated. “You’re a monsterfucker, my guy. I’m attracted to you, but not because you’re dead. Whereas you’re clearly into the fact that I’m a dead guy.” 

Danny opened his mouth. He shut it. He put a hand over his mouth. “Huh,” he said. “Huh.” His brow furrowed. “If I said it was scientific curiosity and that passion for death runs in my family- no, I hear it.” He flapped a hand at Jason to cut off the laugh he couldn’t stop. “Hush. Okay. Fine.” He stood up a little straighter. “I’m a necrophiliac and I’m proud.”

A window banged shut in the kitchen and there was a clatter as someone’s shitty little brother fell into the sink.

“...Hi, Duke!” Danny called.

Jason put his hand over his face.

“Hi, Danny!” Duke called back, voice choked. “Good to hear from you, man.”

“You can’t fucking be here!” Jason said between his fingers. “I have plans, you shitty Zebra mussel.”

Danny looked at him.

“...What?” Duke asked. He came into the room to frown at Jason.

Jason rolled his eyes. “New Zealand mud snail.” They still didn’t get it. “Spotted lantern fly.” 

Blank stares.

“Fucksake,” said Jason. “I’m calling you an invasive species.”

Danny laughed. Duke made a loud pffft sound and unlocked his phone. He held it up and showed them the screen. “Would the New Zealand zebra lantern fly have this?” He triumphantly brandished his phone screen, which was a screenshot of his chat with Jason where he’d confirmed that he had permission to come over.

“New Zealand zebra lantern fly,” Jason repeated, vexed as fuck. “You know damn well-”

“It checks out, boss,” Danny reported, leaning back from Duke’s phone. “Looks like he’s allowed in. Let ‘im use your TV while we go out.”

“Yeah, let me use your TV while you go on a date,” Duke echoed, clearly enjoying this a lot.

“...I’ll get my coat,” Jason said sullenly. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

“We’ll bring you back dinner,” Danny told Duke.

Jason stalked away into his bedroom, wondering when he’d lost the plot to his own life.

[distantdarlings]

HABITUAL // t. nott

RATING: PG-13 / 4.3K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert (Requested)

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this (changed slightly)* Annoyed that Theo won't seem to make a move, despite your growing feelings for each other, you ask a friend of the both of you to help make him jealous.

+ WARNINGS - Language, brief sensuality, kissing, two time skips, making Theo jealous, brief fake-dating

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Ribs - Lorde

---

Professor Trelawney’s voice droned on as your quill lazily scratched across your notebook. You were between listening to what she was saying and sleeping, and your brain slowly tilted toward the second. She was rambling on about the properties of a crystal ball above all other vectors for sight-seeing. Something about its curvature made the answers come to you clearer…

Your quill tip ran dry and made a slightly louder scratch against the parchment, sending a nasty shudder down your spine. Your eyes darted over to your inkwell and noticed that it was practically empty. A deep sigh ran through your body, depressing your shoulders. Why was it you always ran out of something when you needed it most? Maybe grabbing a replacement would wake you up a bit. You raised your hand and waited for the long-winded professor to catch sight of it.

“Oh, yes, what is it?” she stared at you through her hugely magnified glasses, tilting her head back slightly to catch that sweet spot in them. 

“I’ve run out of ink. I was just wondering if I could—” A tap on your shoulder interrupted your question. You turned towards the owner of the hand and spotted Theodore. A small smile spread across your lips as a small backup inkwell was displayed in his hand. You nodded your thanks and grabbed it from him, intending to let the professor continue her lecture.  

“Never mind that, Professor Trelawney!” you said, flashing a brief smile at the eccentric woman. She nodded and continued as if she’d never stopped. You wondered when she’d take her next breath.

“You’re welcome, gorgeous,” a small whisper said next to your ear. You smiled at Theo’s flirtatious nature, knowing he’d use this little favor to ask for something in return later. He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before backing up. You rolled your eyes, promising to get him back for that.

By the end of class, your stomach was growling, and your mind was exhausted. It was a good thing you didn’t have divinity again until Wednesday because you didn’t think you’d make it if you didn’t get a small break from her each week. And thank Merlin, your next class wasn’t until after lunch. 

You gathered your things and let them slide into your bag. The boys behind you had begun to do the same as you headed towards the door. They were always behind you for whatever reason. You weren’t sure. Maybe it was just a boy thing. 

“Hey!” Theo’s voice came from behind you. You turned to catch him jogging toward you with his hands tightened around his bag straps. You stopped and flashed a smile, watching as his eyes briefly flashed down to your lips. You withheld any physical reaction so as not to embarrass him. “Are you still eating with us?”

“Of course, I am,” you say, “I always do. It wouldn’t be a good day without having lunch with my favorite boy.” You gently touched your thumb and forefinger to his chin, teasing him just a bit. You saw his lips part as soon as your skin came into contact with his—just as it always did. 

“I’m your favorite boy?” he chuckled, letting a smirk fall over his lips. He readjusted his bag over his shoulders. Your fingers came up to separate your collar from your neck, allowing just a breath of skin to flash over his eyes. You watched as he glanced down at every inch of you that was revealed to him, and his throat slid up nervously. You could play him like a piano, and it was addicting. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Mattheo asked, coming up behind the two of you. His voice sliced the tension between the two of you in half. 

“Nope, we were just getting ready to head down to the Great Hall,” you replied. “Are you eating with us?”

“Duh, who else am I going to eat with?” Mattheo asked. You rolled your eyes at him and looped your arm through Theo’s, allowing him to lead the way to the dining hall. Enzo quickly jogged up beside the group, falling in step with the rest of them. Your big brother had a habit of always being the latest to the party. It was one of his many endearing qualities. 

Your group appeared before the vast doors of the Great Hall, allowing them to quickly swallow you all up as you realized that everyone else was just as starving as you were. You selected your usual seats at the far end of the long Slytherin table and dug in. Soon enough, yours and everyone else’s plates were piled high with the many options laid out before you.

“Merlin, help us all….if that wasn’t the most boring class yet,” Mattheo sighed into his food. The rest of you laughed at his confession, all nodding in agreement. Trelawney’s class was rarely exciting, but when it was boring, it was really boring. 

“The only bit of excitement was you asking for some new ink,” Theo nodded toward you, a bit of a roll pressed between his teeth. You smiled and shook your head.

“And, of course, you were there, right to the rescue,” you laughed. “I was hoping I could leave the class and grab a replacement from my dorm to wake myself up a little.”

“My bad, I thought I was helping.”

“You were…unfortunately,” you replied. The four of you laughed in response, knowing well enough that they all had done something to try and get out of the squirrely professor’s class. A comfortable silence ensued soon after as the group finished up their meals and let the large meal settle sweetly on their stomachs.

“I’m really tired now,” you groaned, laying your head down against the table. You felt a hand reach over and gently brush its fingers along your hair. You assumed it was Theo, as he habitually absentmindedly touched you somehow. You figured you were a sort of stress ball to him. A small laugh touched your chest at the thought. 

“Teddy, can I sit on your lap?” you asked, already knowing his answer.

“Of course, love, come here,” he responded. The three boys had begun to discuss some kind of new broom headed towards the Quidditch market, and, to be entirely honest, you couldn’t care less about it. All the more reason for you to doze off just a bit in Theo’s lap. You pulled yourself up and stepped over your side of the bench. You walked around the edge of the table, sleepily approaching Theo. Though his attention remained on his friends, his legs slid open and his arm pushed out, allowing you to be able to slip onto his lap. 

You gently grabbed his shoulder and stepped between his legs, settling yourself on his lap. Once you were seated, his arm slid firmly around your waist, sliding his fingers comfortably beneath the waistband of your skirt. You set your head on his shoulder, pressing your face close to his neck, letting your lips brush his skin every once in a while. If he could avoid any romantic feelings from this, he either genuinely disliked you or was utterly numb to all physical affection. 

Your goal for the last few weeks was to muster up every bit of courage the universe had blessed you with and completely take it out on Theo. The feelings and the tension sustained between the two of you were too obvious for it to mean nothing. He had feelings for you, you’d bet your final grade on it.

Just as your lips brushed his skin a third time, you noticed a trail of chills travel down the back of his neck. He shuddered slightly. You suppressed a smile. Just a little bit more…

“Teddy,” you whispered in his ear. He all but jumped and turned to look at you.

“What is it, darling?” he asked, sucking his bottom lip roughly between his teeth. Your eyes watched the motion for a few seconds before popping back up to his eyes.

“I was just wondering if you wanted me to rub your back a bit?” you asked, smiling innocently. “I know how sore it gets after Quidditch practice.” 

His eyes glanced between your lips and your eyes, savoring every detail of your face. The front of his pants tightened a bit, pushing a small adjustment out of him. He grabbed your waist, lifted you gently, slid his legs forward and farther apart, then set you back down. Heat pooled in your lower stomach at his ability to pick you up like it was nothing. Damn it, you had a raging crush on him.

“Uh, no, darling,” he breathed, eyes fully pulling away from you now. “I’m alright, maybe another time…and, actually, I think I’ll just…” he trails off, gently sliding you off his leg and onto the seat next to him. Disappointment and rejection swirl in your chest with every aching breath. He’d never done anything but be affectionate with you, but for some reason, he was acting off today. 

He got to his feet, completely avoiding all eye contact, and headed off from the table with another word. Your lips parted in surprise as you watched him walk off towards the exit. The boys behind you had stopped talking, and you turned to catch their attention.

“What is his problem?” Mattheo asked.

“I have no idea,” you respond slowly, glancing back toward the double doors as if he might walk in again. 

xxx

Later that evening, after all of your classes for the day had ended and dinner was revving up in the Great Hall, you sat on your bed, torn between a couple of things. For one, you were starved and wanted to grab some dinner; two, you were too scared you’d bump into Theo while you were down there and add a second painfully awkward interaction to the day; and three, your stomach was churning so violently with nerves and nausea, you were sure you’d puke if you ate anything or had one more thought about Theodore Nott. 

Every time lunch popped into your head again, you nearly hurled. That was easily one of the most embarrassing things that had ever happened to you, and you’d fallen off your broom during Quidditch while the whole school was watching. 

Maybe he’d lost feelings for you. That would explain the strange distance between the two of you today. But it didn’t make sense why it was so sudden. Had you upset him or made him uncomfortable today? You weren’t sure. Your brain ached from all of the contemplating and speed runs of scenarios you’d been doing the past hour. 

You could ask Enzo or Mattheo to see if they had any insight into their friend’s brain, but you figured that might be a little rude. You didn’t want Theo to think you were a coward or were trying to talk about him behind his back. Fuck.

Then, as if he was summoned by the force of your mind, Mattheo Riddle gave a brief knock and presented himself in the doorway. A smile pulled its way across your face at the appearance of the dark boy. You waved him over and gave a small pat to the space beside you.

“Hey,” he said, sliding himself beside you.  

“What’s up?” He kicks his shoes off and props his feet onto the bed, one resting comfortably over the other.

“Nothing much. I was just coming to see if you knew what was up with Theo today?” he asked, crossing his hands over his stomach.

“Actually, I was just thinking of coming to ask you or Enzo that,” you admit. “I have no idea what happened today. We didn’t talk the rest of the day.”

“Weird…” Mattheo trailed off. There were a few moments of empty silence as the two of you rested against your headboard, basking in each other’s company. After a while, his arm came up to slide around your shoulders. You slid closer to him and rested a head on his shoulder, the collar of his shirt gently tickling your nose. 

If you could remain like this for the rest of forever, you would. Mattheo had always been like another brother to you. Another overprotective Enzo to watch over you in everything you did, and, as annoying as that sounded (and sometimes was), you really did appreciate having them around you. You enjoyed Theo in that way, as well, though you admit that you wish something more would bloom between the two of you. A thought pops into your head.

“Matty,” you breathe, your eyes widening significantly. His eyes follow yours to see if he could catch what had shocked you so much.

“What?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“If I ask you for the hugest favor on earth, would you do it?”

“Well, that is kind of vague,” he points out, “what is the favor?” He watches you for a few moments as you struggle with what to say. A million details are running through your head, with possibilities and worst-case scenarios flashing around, making everything seem like one big, jumbled mess in your brain. But, despite the cacophony of opportunities flying around in your head, one thesis stood clear.

“Would you help me make Theo jealous?” you ask. Mattheo choked on his spit. The face he gives you makes you laugh out loud.

“I’m sorry?” he asks.

“I want you to help me make Theo jealous, like, you know, pretend to date me for a few days.” 

“Are you joking? Theo would kill me. I’m not risking that!” he exclaims, removing his arm from behind you to cross them. 

“Please, Matty, I’d never ask you for another favor again!”

“No! He already likes you. Why don’t you just ask him out?” he asks. You knew that Theo had feelings for you, just as he knew you had feelings for him, but hearing Mattheo confirm that aloud had you blushing. You supposed there was always the possibility you were wrong about Theo liking you and the two of you were just friends, but friends didn’t look at each other like the two of you did with eyes full of longing and hot lust. 

“Because I’m too nervous. I want him to make the first move,” you explain. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. A deep sigh pushed through his nose as he appeared to be contemplating. You waited in silence for a few moments, allowing him to weigh his options, though you knew what his answer would be. He never told you no.

“Alright—” 

“Yes! Oh, thank you, thank you! I promise I’ll make it up to you!” You threw yourself onto him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. He groaned at the sudden weight flung over him and reluctantly held you back. You could practically hear him rolling his eyes but, no matter how close he got to Theo, he’d always had a soft spot for you. You smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Okay, okay, back up,” he sighed. “How do we do it?” 

“So, this was my plan…” 

You went over every detail of the well-thought-out plan you’d devised over the last few hours, making sure to leave nothing out. Every few moments, Mattheo’s eyebrows would raise, or he would start to protest, but he never backed out. And if he tried to, you’d just beg him some more.

So once you’d gone over everything successfully, you had Mattheo lead you downstairs with your fingers intertwined together. This had to work. 

The two of you stalked into the Great Hall, your stomach churning with anxiety and Mattheo’s preparing himself to run if needed. Your fingers squeezed his every so often, trying to wring the nerves out but failing miserably. Your eyes landed on the group sitting at your table and you made your way over.

“Hey, guys…” Enzo started and trailed off as his eyes traced the two of you, falling to where the two of you met in the middle. At Enzo’s sudden silence, Theo turned to look at the two of you. Your intertwined fingers clenched tightly, Mattheo’s thumb lightly tracing yours. 

“Hey,” you said, smiling sweetly. You avoided all eye contact as the two of you sat down beside Enzo, with you directly across from Theo. Mattheo’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and you leaned into him. Still, you refused to look at Theo, but out of the corner of your eye, you could see his eyes widened and lips slightly parted. 

“Friendly tonight, are we?” Enzo asked, stabbing a bit of potato with his fork. He seemed to be hiding a smile. You shot him a knowing glance.

“Shut up,” you joke. “We’ve just…”

“Gotten a bit closer?” Mattheo pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, and you giggled in response. Damn, this acting deserved an award. You glanced at Theo's fist tightening, joints cracking slightly.

“Since when?” he asked, his voice baring through gritted teeth. Your eyes found him finally and your smile dropped a bit.

“Since he asked me out earlier today,” you retorted, the attitude laid on just a bit. His lips snapped shut and his eyes glanced away. He seemed less confident now, because—you hoped—he’d figured out your irritation with his refusal to move forward with your relationship.

“So, are you guys a thing now?” Enzo asked, not bothered in the slightest.

“You could call us that,” you giggled, fake-teasing Mattheo. Nerves broiled in your stomach as you discreetly pinched his hip. That had been the code the two of you had come up with to signal when you were going to do your kiss. This was going to be the big sale and it had to be realistic.

He leaned down and gently cupped your bottom lip with his, sending a wave of butterflies to your stomach. Damn, he was a good kisser. You pressed your lips back into him, admiring the feel of him. In all reality, the kiss only lasted about five seconds, but under the heat of the eyes before you, it felt like hours. When he pulled away, you flashed him a small smile.

Theo rose quickly and headed to the door, never once looking back. This has been the second time in one day he’d stormed off and you felt a bit embarrassed, to be honest. Maybe this wasn’t going to have the desired effect. You groaned and set your head against the table.

“Not working out for you?” Enzo chuckled.

“Shut up!” you shouted into your arms, the sound muffled. 

“You know…” Mattheo was right at your ear. You glanced up at him, tilting your head to the side. “You’re a pretty good kisser.” A smirk spread across his lips. You blushed

“Ugh, stop, Matty…you’re a good kisser too.” The three of you burst out laughing, reveling in the appreciation of each other’s company, before remembering why you were here. You really didn’t want to continue with this, it made you feel guilty, and there was always the chance this wouldn’t work. You sighed. You would have to go big or go home, and you weren’t a quitter.

xxx 

The next morning was a Saturday and Mattheo and you had planned a fake picnic date by the Whomping Willow. The plan was to enjoy a meal right within sight of where Theo was going to toss a Quaffle around with a couple of his friends. This had to work or you risked ruining your relationship with Theo. You prayed that this would give him the confidence to approach you. 

The two of you set the blanket and snacks out, settling in and beginning to eat. Enzo said that he had overheard that Theo was going to head out around eleven. It was currently fifteen ‘till, so you figured it wouldn’t be too long. Or you hoped that, anyway.

“So, what if this doesn’t work?” Mattheo breaks the silence, nursing a small bottle of pumpkin juice. 

“I was just thinking about that,” you laughed nervously, “I don’t actually know. I’m hoping he won’t hate me, but I’m more concerned he will hate you too.”

“I’m not too concerned about that. It’s alright. I’m just happy to help.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything in return?” you ask, peeling the crust off your sandwich. 

“I’ll just hang onto the favor for a rainy day,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and laugh gently. 

Above the two of you, a group of four players on brooms soar over you. You gasp and scoot closer to Mattheo, getting into position. He wrapped his arm around you and started to pretend to joke about something with you. You glanced Theo watching the two of you every so often. He would look for only a few seconds before turning his head away when his friends called his name. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to get hit in the head with the Quaffle (in which case, you’d laugh, but now wasn’t the time for that). 

“You know,” Mattheo started, “this is nice. We should do this more often.”

“What, have picnics?” you laugh, popping a grape into your mouth. 

“Sure, if you want,” he chuckled. “I just meant the hanging out part. I feel like I only see you whenever your brother’s around.”

“Yeah, it’s almost like he’s my brother and I love him,” you laughed. He shook his head in an attempt to hide his smile, but soon enough, the both of you were laughing. His head was thrown back as it racked his body, and your hand gripped his shirt sleeve to steady yourself.

“Hey, I need to talk to you—” The two of you snapped out of your moment of comedy at the sound of a voice. Your eyes squinted against the sun slightly before making contact with Theo. Mattheo glanced over at you and shrugged his shoulders, urging you on with his hand. Theo reached down and offered you his hand, which you took and allowed him to pull you to your feet. He marched the two of you over to the nearest courtyard, never letting go of your hand. Your stomach flushed.

“Theo, what is—?” He pulled you to a stop behind one of the courtyard’s stone pillars. Your eyes found his; the only sound was the slight breeze and the gurgle of the fountain behind him. He glanced down to your lips, his breaths exiting in heavy pants. Merlin, you wanted to kiss him.

“I have to ask you one question,” he said. You started to speak, but his thumb pressed gently against your bottom lip. “No, just wait one minute.”

His eyes fell to the ground between the two of you. It appeared that he was trying to figure out precisely what he wanted to say. His lips parted several times, the words of confession dancing along the edges of them. The frustration in his eyes set off an ache in your chest that you couldn’t suppress. You wanted to kiss him so bad, so bad, so bad. 

“One question…and then I’ll leave you alone,” he said. You nodded slowly. “Do you really like Mattheo? Is that why the two of you are together?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. That was definitely different from what you thought he was going to ask. You stuttered a few times before shutting your mouth. You didn’t know what to say. His eyes refused to leave yours, beckoning every inch of the truth out of you. He wanted to know if your feelings toward him were the same as his towards you. He fought the urge to reach out and press his lips against yours. Just one word, and he would. You sighed.

“No,” you confessed, “I don’t.��� His stomach flipped. Yours did, too. You wanted to explain yourself, run through every detail of the plan devised between Mattheo and you but you were too ashamed. Luckily, he didn’t care why you were with Mattheo, other than you didn’t care for the boy as he previously thought you’d done. His hands slid easily along your cheeks, carefully tracing the soft skin there. He was testing the waters, wanting so badly to touch you and anticipating the possibility of a slap. 

“Can I ask one more question?” he whispered against your lips, the salty taste of his sweat dabbing against the tip of your tongue. You nodded breathlessly.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his eyes never leaving your parted lips. You didn’t answer. You pressed your lips roughly to his, hearing the sharp intake of breath he took as his hands tightened around your head. He held you in place, pressing you against the stone pillar behind you. Your hands came up to wrap around his waist, clenching the material of his shirt beneath your fingers. His hands dropped to the front of you, pushing you tightly against the pillar, fingers curving against your hipbones. Fuck. You were such a coward; you should have done this ages ago. 

When the two of you finally parted, reluctantly choosing air over each other, you did nothing but stare at the other. Heavy pants left the two of you; your hands clutched the other’s bodies, leaving little space between the two of you. Neither of you had words. All he could think to do was fold you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around you with a hold like a vice. Your head turned and tucked itself into his shoulder where it had rested so many times before. And through your contentedly parted eyes, you could distantly see Mattheo, on the picnic blanket, smugly raising his pumpkin juice bottle to the two of you.

[monotonesmile]

Hi!!!!! Can you write a Jason Todd x reader where the reader is planning a surprise birthday party for Jason with Dick but Jason gets jealous and thinks the reader is cheating on him

Surprise!

[Jason Todd X GN!Reader]

[Word Count: 1946]

[Warnings: Accusations of cheating]

[Fic Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst]

[Notes: Goddamn, y’all just want to hurt this man, don’t ya? Well, I’m here to oblige. Enjoy.]

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They were taken out of their concentration while working on some papers when their phone started to ring on their desk, looking at the caller ID, they saw the name Dick Grayson, Jason’s older brother, confused, they picked up their phone and answered.

“Hello?” They were a bit confused as they answered the phone, waiting to hear why Dick was calling them during the middle of the night. Jason was out on patrol as Red Hood when this happened so they don’t know if he was calling for Jason.

“Hey! I’ve got a question for you.” Dick’s voice came through the speaker on the phone, cheerful as always, he definitely seemed excited about something, if they could see him, he'd probably be bouncing off the walls with excitement about this mystery question.

“Uh…sure? What’s up?” They raise an eyebrow as they look down at the papers they were working on, setting the phone down and putting him on speaker so they can continue their work, wondering what he is so excited about.

“Do you want to help me plan a surprise party for Jason’s birthday?” Dick enthusiastically asks, practically vibrating with excitement through the phone.

“Oh shit! Yes! Absolutely!” They were immediately infected by his excitement, they were more than happy to help plan a birthday party for their boyfriend, why wouldn’t they! They love him so much, they would be overjoyed to help surprise him for his birthday!

“Awesome, okay, so where do you want to meet up to go over this stuff?” They could practically hear Dick grinning through the phone, he was just so happy to surprise his brother for his birthday, it feels nice to act like a normal family sometimes.

“Oh! There’s this little coffee shop downtown that I go too, we can go there to plan something out if that works for you.” They chime in, offering one of their favorite little coffee shops to meet up at, it’s quiet and out of the way, perfect place to plan a surprise party.

“Perfect! Does Saturday at…maybe two work for you?” Dick hums, excited to start planning this thing, who else would he plan it with? Jason’s own partner is perfect for the job!

“That works for me, see you then! Stay safe, have a nice night!” They nod, writing the date in their calendar so they’ll remember before bidding him goodnight, hearing him say his goodbye before hanging up the phone. They’re smiling, excited to do something special for Jason, the man they love so very deeply.

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Multiple Saturday’s had passed around by now, Jason’s birthday slowly creeping up on them, but now they have to get ready, pulling on their socks before they run out the bedroom in some casual clothing, sliding past Jason as they gather different items to take with them to the small cafe. A small notebook, pen, stickers for the fun of it, just the things they’ll need as they had started planning the food that’ll be at the birthday, besides cake of course, that’s a given for a birthday.

Jason was watching them run around their apartment with a confused expression as he sat on the couch watching tv, his eyes tracking them as they grabbed seemingly different items for something he has no idea about, he didn’t even get a clue on what exactly they were doing, it’s obvious they were going out but he doesn’t know the reason why, they hadn’t told him anything, just leaving him a confused mess of a man as they slid on their shoes.

He was going to ask where they were going but he didn’t get the chance as they pulled on their coat, saying a quick love you and goodbye before the door shutting echoed through the apartment. Well…that was a very fast exit. Now he’s even more confused about what they were doing, something in his gut telling him to follow them, so he slowly got off the couch, grabbing his keys and following out the door.

Jason quickly put on his helmet when their car left the parking lot of their apartment complex, got onto his motorcycle as it revved to life, pulled out of the lot and followed from a distance, sometimes his training as a vigilante is really helpful in everyday life. He followed them through different streets before they got to downtown Gotham, seeing their car park, he had parked a few blocks down to keep his cover and distance, silently following them as they headed into a small coffee shop, he could recognize it as one of their favorites.

He is just even more confused now, why were you here? Are you meeting with a friend? Studying maybe? Is that why you came out here? He can’t blame them if that’s why they were here, it’s a nice place, and for a moment he was tempted to go inside before he spotted an all too familiar face from behind the window, his older brother, Dick Grayson. His eyes had widened in surprise, his mind doing backflips on trying to think of a reason he would be here, until they had sat down across from him. So that's why you were here. He watched as the two spoke, smiling and talking excitedly, although he can’t make out what either of you are saying.

Jason didn’t know how to feel about it, while he was more than happy that they got along with his family, it was always something he loved about them, but this makes his stomach churn in jealousy, his mind racing with confusion and concern, and a thought he wished never crossed his mind came into though. Had you been cheating on him with his own brother? It was something he didn’t want to believe, but he could see how ecstatic they were when with Dick, and it hurt more than he thought it would.

He didn’t want to believe what was in front of him, oh how he wished this was just a nightmare or Scarecrow's fear gas, but no, this was reality, and it hurt him more than anything else could, he wanted to barge in and confront them, but he couldn’t, he can’t deal with that pain right now, he could be wrong about all of this, he hopes he’s wrong. So, he turned back to his motorcycle, getting on, and driving home in complete silence, his mind running wild, giving him a headache.

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The door shut behind him with a thud, Jason had his breathing heavy as he entered the living room, pacing around as his arms crossed, his fingers gripping tightly onto the fabric of his shirt, he mind was running completely wild with theories, none of them comforting or good, the longer he paced, the more he feared that they were actually cheating on him, he doesn’t think he could handle that kind of pain and betrayal.

But of course they’d cheat with Dick, why wouldn’t they? He’s everything Jason can’t be, he was charming, flirtatious, he could actually give them the life they wanted, a stable life with a vigilante, something Jason could never give to them due to his own demons and past. It hurt to admit that he truly thought they were too good for him, maybe they’d be better off with Dick, they’d have a good life with him.

Jason’s thoughts were interrupted by the door opening and closing, how long had he been pacing? He doesn’t know, but he knows that they’re home now. He glanced over to see them tugging their shoes off with a smile on their face, he had to take a moment to catch his breath and calm his breathing before he walked over to them as they were shrugging off their coat and about to put it away.

When they spotted him walking over they were quick to greet him, “Jason!” They had chirped, smiling up at the larger man, usually hearing them call his name and cheerfully greet him would make his heart flutter but this time it made him feel sick to his stomach due to prior thoughts and his fears.

It hurt seeing their smile but he took a deep breath before asking the very question he dreads the answer to so much.

“Are you cheating on me with Dick?” Jason tried to conceal the pain on his face by keeping a stern look and his head up but it was obvious how much hurt he felt, his eyebrows twitching as his eyes told the entire story, they were sad, glossy eyes, filled with pain.

“Wh-what!? No! God no!” They sputtered as their response was almost instant, they whipped around, dropping their coat with their surprise at his question, their face was a complete look of shock and confusion, they had no idea why he would even think that!

“Hold on! Before you say anything else! Here, you can look through our texts!” They were quick to pull their phone from their pocket, practically shoving it into his hands after unlocking it, they had wanted to prove their loyalty, confused but truly wanting to dispel his suspicions and fear,

Jason hesitated but looked down at the phone, afraid of what he’ll find, slowly scrolling through the many messages the two had sent over multiple days, their activity had spiked as of recent, and he still has no clue why.

“I swear, I would never cheat on you! Me and Dick were…we were just meeting to plan a surprise for you, I’m so sorry Jason…” They sigh quietly, fidgeting with their hands as they look down, feeling bad as they admit the reason for their many disappearances over the few weeks.

“I hadn’t realized I was ignoring and neglecting you, I never meant to do that, I was just so excited to surprise you.” They felt so guilty for their oversight, they should’ve just told him that they were going to talk to his brother rather than say absolutely nothing at all to him about where they were going, they can’t blame him for his worries, they made a mistake and are owning up to it.

Jason practically deflated when he confirmed their words with the texts, they had just been talking about the former surprise and what they were planning for it, it made his entire body relax so much, he was so glad that his fears and suspicions were incorrect, they weren’t cheating, they were trying to do something sweet for him.

“God…I’m sorry.” Jason sighs, running a hand through his hair as he handed their phone back to them so they could put it away. “I shouldn’t have just accused you of that, I should’ve trusted you more…” Well now he felt bad for a completely different reason, he just accused his loving partner of cheating on him.

“No! It’s fine, I understand, I should’ve known better, probably should’ve told you where I was going…” They cut him off with a hug, feeling his strong arms wrap around them in response, holding them close as he sighs again, happy to have them in his arms after such a confusing and stressful day.

“So…what exactly is the surprise?” Jason hums, now curious and a bit cheeky as he asks, he wants to know what they’re planning since they had already told him that the reason they were meeting his brother was to plan some kind of event.

“Jason no, it’s supposed to be a surprise!” They huffed in response, hearing him laugh at their grumpy reply, he knew they wouldn’t spill, a pity.

“Yeah yeah…love you, Doll.” He chuckles, kissing their forehead gently.

“Love you too, Red.”

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[Requests are open!]