#Dot Day Lesson Plan

[doink]

Bringing Dots to Life: Dot Day Green Screen Lesson with DoInk

Welcome to an inspiring Dot Day project that seamlessly blends art, technology, and storytelling! In this blog post, we'll guide you through an engaging lesson plan using Green Screen by DoInk to bring dots to life in celebration of Dot Day with a green screen reveal project. Whether you're in a classroom setting or facilitating remote learning, this tutorial promises a vibrant and interactive experience for your students.

What you will learn:

Celebrating the significance of Dot Day

Integrating technology for an immersive Dot Day project

Creating a Green Screen reveal project

Creating dynamic dot animations with Green Screen by DoInk

Adding storytelling elements to dot creations

Real-world examples for inspiration

Fostering creativity and collaboration in the learning process

Dot Day comes alive with the magic of technology and creativity in this Green Screen by DoInk lesson. By incorporating dynamic dot creativity and storytelling elements, educators can provide students with a memorable and interactive learning experience.

Embark on this educational journey for Dot Day and Green Screen by DoInk. Share your vibrant dot creations with us, and let the celebration of creativity continue to inspire!

[fandoms-x-reader]

Feeling Sheepish

Requested By: @deludedprime

Summary: You were a sheep for your exchange year in the Devildom (Season 1) but during your time in the human world, the spell wore off. When Solomon brings you back to the Devildom (Season 2), everyone has a different reaction to your new body. The Seven Demon Brothers & Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, and Simeon Featuring Luke, Raphael, Mephisto, and Thirteen Word Count: 3,737 Characters are written in chronological order instead of the normal order! Based on Lesson 21-1 & 21-2

Being a sheep in the Devildom wasn’t as bad as it may seem at first glance.

There’s no denying that safety was an issue. After all, you were small and somewhat defenseless if a demon tried to attack you.

But, you didn’t need to use nearly as many resources to take care of yourself. And, on top of that, it was easy to make friends when you looked so adorable and approachable.

Being a sheep also took away the social construct of beauty. There was no way anyone could judge the way you dressed or did your hair because you were simply a sheep.

So, while there was a bit of an adjustment period at first, by the end of your exchange year in the Devildom, you had grown accustomed to being a small creature.

But, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end, and before you knew it, it was time for you to leave the Devildom.

You were heartbroken to leave your friends - but, you weren’t even sure if they could see the tears you were shedding as a sheep.

And then with a blink of an eye, you were teleported back to the human world and that was the end of it.

Luckily, the spell wore off pretty quickly when you returned to the human world and you had your normal body back.

And whether or not that was what you wanted, you knew it was probably for the best. After all, what considerations were held for you as a sheep in the Devildom, certainly wouldn’t be held in the human world.

You could be shaved bald for your wool or get put on a farm. Or worse. There were some places where sheep was a common cuisine.

Becoming a human once again required yet another adjustment period. You had to relearn how to walk on two feet instead of four. You had to make sure you were dressed properly and that your hair was neat.

Not to mention the fact that you were starving. As a sheep, you ate such small portions. Now, you felt like you had to make up for lost time. 

Everyone from the Devildom continued to stay in contact with you, of course. But, all they could hear was your voice. They couldn’t see you.

So they were none the wiser when it came to your sudden transformation. They were completely in the dark. 

At least that was the case until one day, Solomon showed up to see you.

Solomon was planning a trip back to the Devildom and he was planning on taking you.

Truth be told, he missed it down there. The memories that he experienced were full of fun and endearing moments. And, he wanted to make some more.

You were typically at the center of those memories, and as such, he couldn’t imagine returning to the Devildom without you.

The two of you had stayed in touch, sending messages here and there and even calling when the time allowed it.

But, it was nothing like before - which is why Solomon decided to surprise you by showing up in person.

He used a tracking spell to find your location and continued to text you to keep up the ruse.

His eyes scanned the area for your little sheep form and he got a bit worried when he couldn’t find you. He was positive he had done the tracking spell right.

That’s when he noticed someone walking and texting - on a D.D.D.

It wasn’t like those were popular in the human world. You could only get them from the Devildom - which meant…

The realization dawned on Solomon that the spell that turned you into a sheep would have worn off by now, and he connected the dots.

He took a brief couple of moments to take in your new appearance. He felt privileged to be the first one to see you in your human form.

Then he approached you and he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips when you looked into his eyes with soft familiarity in yours.

Solomon would love to whisk you away and spend the day with you. To have some alone time with you before the others stole every second of your time.

But - he was on a mission. He came to you for a reason. 

A reason that he didn’t give you much time to ponder over before teleporting the two of you back to the Devildom.

Back to your friends.

Lucifer was stunned when he watched two humans fall through the portal that had opened up in the middle of the assembly room.

He recognized Solomon right away. He wore a smile as he landed on his feet gracefully.

The one Lucifer didn’t recognize was the human who had crash-landed on top of Satan.

From his position, Lucifer could see that they were attractive, but why had Solomon brought them there?

“Whoops. Sorry, about that Y/N. I really should’ve warned you to be careful where you land,” Solomon stated and it all became clear to Lucifer.

You were the human that had stolen all of their hearts. You were the one they had been pining over and longing for since the moment you left the Devildom.

And now you were in your true form.

And your true form seemed to have an even greater effect on the eldest.

“Y/N…?! Solomon…!” were the only two words that came out of Lucifer’s mouth as he was still trying to process everything.

He was trying to hold it together. He was doing what he could to not show any weakness.

He wanted to remain as calm and composed as he normally was, but his eyes refused to listen as they were continuously drawn to you, taking in every inch of your appearance.

And when you finally smiled at him, he knew it was over for him.

“AAAAAH!! Wha…wha…WHA?! Is this really…are you really really…REALLY?!”

Levi was so overwhelmed by the situation that he wasn’t able to form real words.

He felt like his brain was racing at a hundred words a second.

He had just got his friend back - his true friend.

And he was so excited to see you again.

Except it wasn’t the you he had gotten to know over the past year.

Now, you were back in your human body and despite him mostly being excited, he couldn’t help but be intimidated.

Like Lucifer, Levi did his best to not trail his eyes over your new body and when he caught himself doing so, his cheeks turned a bright pink and he mentally scolded himself.

Levi could barely manage to not freak out in your presence when you were a sheep. How was he supposed to do that now that you were a human?

And not just any human, but an attractive one!

Levi’s overthinking could have given him a panic attack on the spot if it weren’t for the fact that he was in front of everyone else.

He just needed to keep reminding himself that you were the same person he had come to know and love.

Maybe then he would still be able to hang out with you despite the fact that your new form made his heart race and made his palms sweaty.

“Y/N, it’s YOU! It’s REALLY YOU!”

Asmo’s excitement showed more than his other brothers’ as they all processed your new form in their own way.

Asmo, for one, was soo ecstatic about the new change in your appearance.

Could you blame him? He was the Avatar of Lust and you just showed up in a new body.

When you were a sheep, you had a personality that could charm anyone, anywhere.

And now you had a body that could do the same. 

Asmo’s eyes had a special glint in them as his questions filled his mind.

How smooth was your skin?

Were your lips as soft as they appeared?

Did your hair feel as healthy as it looked?

Asmo got even more excited as he realized now he would be able to do all of the beauty treatments with you and see them in full effect.

There was only so much you could do as a sheep. After all, wool was a lot different from skin.

If he’s caught staring at your new body, Asmo will be shameless about it.

It’s not like he doesn’t have a good reason to stare.

He just couldn’t wait for the student council meeting to be over so they could all take you back to the House of Lamentation.

Asmo wanted every single one of his questions answered, and he couldn’t do that in the middle of the Assembly Hall.

Well…he could, but Lucifer would probably be mad.

Mammon went through a full mood swing. 

At first, he was confused because a random human just dropped into the middle of their meeting. 

But when Solomon said your name, everything changed for Mammon.

He hadn’t stopped blushing since he realized that the random human was - his human.

Mammon had a hard time trying not to admit his feelings for you when you were a sheep.

But now - now you were a human.

A human that he could hug, kiss, and cuddle if you let him.

He told his mind to stop thinking such thoughts but it would respond by flooding his brain with even more thoughts and images.

He wore a smile the more he looked at you. He had missed you so much.

But, in his true, tsundere fashion, he couldn’t let you catch onto how much he missed you.

“Wait, wh…huh?!...I knew you missed me and all, but THIS is just crazy!”

Mammon thought he did a good job of remaining composed.

He believed he did a good job of hiding the fact that you being there - in this form - was making his head spin and making him weak in the knees.

But when the two of you locked eyes, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep his charade up for much longer.

You were his weakness as a sheep, now you were his kryptonite.

“Y/N…”

Satan was trying to analyze the situation. 

You fell on top of him when you came out of the portal and he was completely blindsided by the contact.

So he was trying to still gather his bearings while his brothers spoke.

When he finally did manage to get back to his feet, Satan asked, “Do you want to tell me why you just appeared out of thin air and landed on my head?”

But as Satan faced you to ask that question, he took in your appearance and a small blush coated his cheeks.

Suddenly, he was happy that you landed on him. Thankful even.

He had noticed that when you landed on him, you were definitely bigger than a little sheep.

But he didn’t expect this.

He couldn’t imagine if you would have landed on one of his other brothers, especially Lucifer.

The thought alone threatened to spark his wrath.

Satan let his eyes trail down you, studying your new body as if it were a new piece of information he was learning.

And he had never been so excited to learn.

This was a subject he would happily study in depth if you allowed him to.

For now, Satan settled on helping you to your feet, your hand feeling much softer and warmer than the hoof that he was used to feeling.

And as you stood close to him, his heart skipped a beat.

He knew that everyone was going to be in deep trouble now that you had gotten your true form back.

“How about that! Y/N, it’s really you!!”

Diavolo had a boyish grin on his face as he spoke to you. He had missed you just as much as the brothers had, whether he showed it as much as they did or not.

He knew that the spell that turned you into a sheep must have worn off by now.

But, still, it was a surprise to see you in your human body.

He had to admit - you were quite the head-turner.

A twinge of fear set into Diavolo as he questioned how you ended up in the Devildom again.

“Wait, you didn’t perform some sort of unsavory ritual to cast your soul down here, did you?! You better not have!”

When you shook your head no, Diavolo let out a breath of relief, knowing that you were okay.

“I can’t believe you’re actually back here with us again!” he added, his smile returning.

Diavolo could see how good you were for his kingdom.

He could see the way you changed things for the better, and he could see how negative things were without you.

Your presence brought a light to their lives that he had been missing.

And that light shone even brighter in your real body. 

Diavolo would be lying if he said he didn’t find you attractive. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been sneaking glances this entire time.

But he had to keep his composure in front of everyone.

When the two of you were alone though - and he would make sure that you had some alone time - that’s when he would let his true feelings show.

“Yes. This really is quite the happy surprise. It’s good to see you again, Y/N.”

Barbatos was as professional as ever, but you could see his eyes sparkling just a bit more than usual and his smile reaching just a little further.

Like Diavolo, Barbatos knew that the spell would have worn off by now.

But, it wasn’t something that was talked about. 

It wasn’t a typical topic of conversation and because of that, it was easy to forget that the next time any of them would see you, you wouldn’t be a sheep.

Barbatos was pleasantly surprised.

He had seen your human form once before - the details of which he won’t disclose.

But, seeing you in your human body after he had gotten to know you was completely different.

It elevated his opinion of you and made him believe you really were the most attractive creature he had met.

No other human, demon, or angel had made his heart race the way you did.

Barbatos had taken a backseat during your first year in the Devildom.

He allowed you to make connections with the others first.

But, now, he was excited for his turn.

There were a lot more things he could teach you and bond with you over now that you had your human body back and he was going to take advantage of each of those things.

Belphie had been doing his best to not fall asleep in the student council meeting.

The last time he did, Lucifer caught and punished him with a whole lot of work and Belphie did not want a repeat of that.

So, he was thankful when the portal opened up, providing a necessary distraction from the boring events that were taking place.

When he saw Solomon fall through the portal, Belphie perked up a bit, curious as to what the mysterious sorcerer had planned this time.

He noticed another human had fallen on top of his older brother and bit back a chuckle at the scene.

When Solomon stated your name, Belphie’s blood ran cold as he began to process the shock.

Was that really you…in that body?!

Belphie had a hundred things to say and to ask. But, he couldn’t get a word in between everyone else, so he quietly took in everything about you.

Your voice was the same and you acted the same. It really was you. 

Belphie couldn’t help but wonder if it would be more fun to cuddle you now.

He would miss the softness of your wool, but would you be warmer now? Or more comfortable to lay on top of?

Belphie was pulled from his thoughts when he noticed you being bombarded with questions of why you were there and he finally decided to speak up.

“Listen, I am curious to know why you’re here. But before we get into that, are you going to be staying for a while? Because if so, you’ll be staying at the House of Lamentation, right? Oh, but wait…I bet your room’s covered in dust…”

“No problem, Y/N can just sleep in our room.”

Like Belphie, Beel had remained silent until then. 

He had been happily munching on a snack, paying the bare minimum of attention to Diavolo during the meeting as he ate.

But he hadn’t been able to take another bite since you and Solomon fell through the portal. 

Was that what you looked like on a normal basis? Why didn’t you tell him?

He knew that you were a human that had been placed under a sheep transformation spell, but his imagination never could have come up with the beauty you exuded.

You were on a different level than others and he couldn’t take his eyes away from you. 

He noticed his other brothers were having the same trouble looking away, and Beel suddenly felt a twinge of jealousy.

You were in your own body now and part of him wished he was the only one who was able to see it.

Well…it was okay if Belphie saw you like this too.

But, the others were looking at you with a look of lust in their eyes and Beel wanted to sweep you into his arms and keep you from them.

Which is why he jumped at the opportunity to offer his and Belphie’s room to you. 

He couldn’t imagine you staying with one of his other brothers after seeing the look in their eyes.

Surely, something would happen if you did and Beel wanted to burn that imagery out of his mind.

Simeon had been in contact with the others in the Devildom and when he found out that you had returned, he couldn’t help but feel like he was missing out.

The demons weren’t the only ones who missed seeing you and talking to you.

He felt like he was missing out even more when they told him that you were back in your human form.

Simeon could only imagine what you looked like. What your hair color was, whether you were tall or short, and what kind of clothes you liked to wear?

That possibilities were driving Simeon crazy and before he knew it, he was finding some way to bring you to the Celestial Realm so that he could see you.

He was beyond happy and excited when you agreed to go, and he paced nervously by the gates as he waited for your arrival.

When the gates finally did open, revealing you and Solomon, Simeon felt his breath leave his body.

He always joked about you being an angel based on the things you did, but now you looked like one.

Simeon could write an entire book on how ethereal and stunning you were.

He did his best to remind himself that he was an angel and shouldn’t be entertaining any thoughts that the demons surely had.

But - you were the first human he had ever met that elicited those ideas from him.

He wasn’t sure how much time he had with you - but he knew that he had to make the most of it.

One of the benefits of being a bit more uncultured and younger than everyone else was that someone’s form didn’t have the same implications for him.

LUKE

Luke had heard from Simeon that you were in your human body, but he didn’t think too much of it.

It didn’t matter if you were a human, a sheep, or anything else. You were still the friend that he came to know and love and want to protect.

Luke had been so excited to show you around the Celestial Realm that he didn’t waste a moment on taking in your new appearance.

Raphael had caught a glimpse of you while you were in the Celestial Realm.

In fact, you would have believed he didn’t notice if it hadn’t been for the fact that you were now bigger than him and did things that you couldn’t do as a sheep.

RAPHAEL

He knew that Simeon and Luke had been excited to see you, so he didn’t dare take your time like they did.

But he saw you chasing after Luke and it made him stop in his tracks as he couldn’t help but stare at you.

He may not have understood your appeal as a sheep. But, seeing you now, he could understand why exactly you had everyone wrapped around your finger.

Mephisto was a bit slow to realize who you were.

And if he wasn’t careful he was sure that someday he may find himself in the same position as the others.

MEPHISTO

He had seen you walking around the Devildom with the others and couldn’t help but wonder who you were and why Diavolo and the others were so close to you.

He had to admit that you were rather attractive, but surely your looks couldn’t be the only reason they were drawn to you.

It wasn’t until one of them said your name while walking by Mephisto that all of the dots connected in his head.

And he wore a small blush as he realized the one he had been admiring from afar was none other than the human exchange student.

The news didn’t deter him though. Instead, it enticed him.

Your new body enticed him.

Thirteen was the last to find out about your new form.

He would have to make himself more useful to Diavolo so that he could find a way to grow closer to you.

THIRTEEN

Like Luke, your body didn’t really make much of a difference to her. After all, she was mostly interested in looking at your soul, and that didn’t change whether you were sheep or human.

But, seeing you for the first time still surprised her. You didn’t look anything like she would have expected - in a good way.

Surely, you would be more useful in helping her make traps in this form.

And she had to admit you were pleasing to look at…

Maybe this was a good thing?

[wordpress-blaze-242745748]

#Get Ready With Me.

THIS JUST IN: YOU LOOK AMAZING. DON’T THINK TOO HARD. The world is burning, but here's what’s in my cart 💅 #GRWM During the Collapse 12 Looks That Survived the Fire Hauls More Explosive Than the Headlines Best Lip Glosses for Evacuation Day These Leggings Ended a Regime “This is Bisan from Gaza”

Wake up Wake up Wake up Scroll Scroll Scroll Scroll ScrollWake up ScrollWake up ScrollWake up ScrollMake your jaw look snatched Scroll - Scroll - Scroll Scroll Scroll Scroll Scroll - Scroll - Scroll Scroll Scroll Scroll Scroll - Scroll - Scroll Scroll Scroll Scroll Scroll#GRWM while ScrollWhile ScrollWhile ScrollWhile... Interact from the bottom up please See me Anyone See me Please see me Wake up Wake up This is Bisan from Gaza See me Anyone? Like comment share please Someone see me Scroll This can’t be the end Scroll

Source: #Get Ready With Me.

[wonryllis]

✶ I'LL WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE 、park sunghoon.

( now playing ) i don't wanna live forever : i just wanna keep calling your name until you come back home.

FEATURING 𑁍 。 neighbour!sunghoon in the quiet beach town you moved to spend the summer before your residency starts. away from the pressure of the fast moving world, you find peace in his cliche little adventures and unaccounted flirting. loosely based off the movie 'float'. ( archive? )

GENRE & WARNINGS 𑁍 。 "he's super hot, so why not" trope, suggestive! making out kinda pg filtered, fluff, slight angst but ultimately a happy ending. WORDCOUNT — 2200 dot.

╱╱ NIE NOTES, strongly recommend listening to the song!! draft from march >< i hope y'all enjoy it!! & if you do please leave comments & feedbacks it keeps me going! & lastly please reblog!!

SUNGHOON WONDERS IF YOU WERE DESTINED TO FIND HIM IN THAT LITTLE ISLAND HIDDEN AWAY FROM THE WORLD.

"just jump baby, i'll catch you," sunghoon reassures you for the umpteenth time, extending his hands out as he convinces you to jump from your balcony to his. there's hardly much space inbetween yet you're scared, you've never done this before. and you've never felt this way before.

fear and feelings spinning in the air it's like a coming of age movie, a step into adulthood, a plethora of things you have never experienced and a guy you have grown the hots for, to spice it all up.

"trust me, i won't let you fall," his voice is soft and encouraging, albeit a little flirty.

you could walk up to his door at three in the morning and it wouldn't be a problem. no longer teenagers having secret rendezvous, but sunghoon insists on it being this way— because it's fun, because you are here to have fun, and because he's promised to be the one to bring you fun.

the town of st george was quiet, peaceful and mellow, more welcoming than the bustling streets of toronto where the life of your dreams awaited you. every breeze carried the smell of the ocean, tingling your scent glands with each breath you took. it was refreshing and cozy, it felt more home than your home had ever felt. like a calling of the unknown, it felt right to be there, like everything you had ever needed. a break from med school, and a hot neighbour right beside, your balconies barely you two feet away.

since you first arrived at the town, unsure of your decision to ditch your routine life and the prestigious summer internship, every moment felt like a battle against your morals. but when you looked out the window of your aunt's spare room, gazing over the tiny houses and backyards filled with so many stories, spending a few days without a plan seemed a tad bit more tempting than having to brood over the fact that you weren't supposed to be there.

park sunghoon was one of the first people you noticed there. dressed in a tank top, engine oil smeared all over as he fixed his car, in the rusty backyard you could see from the bedroom window. sweaty and sexy, buff and messily pretty, he looked young: made you wonder of his reasons to stay in a town where the average age had to have been at least forty. filled with people who sought refuge and people who looked for solitude, it was not a place for someone with big aspirations and dreams.

someone much like you.

"see it wasn't that hard," sunghoon whispers, arms holding you against him as you carefully place your feet onto his marbled balcony floor, cozy little plants adorning the corners.

he smiles at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and carressing your cheeks tenderly. you recall the time you were in the pool together, him teaching you how to swim, holding your hands as you paddled for the first time after an entire month of floating and kicking your feet by the side lessons.

feeling the water splash against your skin, feeling his own skin against yours and feeling your breaths mingle into one another as you made out right after. see it wasn't that hard, his words grazing against your lips.

it felt surreal. like you were doing the right thing. like you were right where you were meant to be.

the little bouts of uneasiness of constantly lying to your parents about your whereabouts and your intership, slowly seemed to slip away everytime you were with him.

you never realized how beautiful life was, how beautiful it was to just be happy and do what you feel like in the moment. and being with him taught you just that. he gave you courage to do what you wanted, the courage to face your troubles and the courage to find what made you happy.

“do you wanna go downstairs? i’ll make us lunch—”

“i just really wanna kiss you right now,” sunghoon's words die down in his throat when you throw your hands around his neck, looping them as you get on your tippy toes to press your lips into his.

the arms around your waist tighten and he immediately reciprocates the kiss, moving his lips against yours, slowly at first. savoring the taste of mangoes you just had together less than an hour ago. lazy licks and prolonged nibbles.

you body pushes foward against his, hands moving to the back of your thighs to pull you onto him as his knees hit the edge of his bed. kiss breaking for a split moment when you plop down on the mattress. foreheads touching and gasping for a long breath before diving right back into the kiss.

this time one of his hands grip the back of your head forcing you closer while your hands busy themselves in pushing under his shirt. gliding from his abs to his chest and then attempting to pull it off of him.

“shit baby, my sister's just downstairs—” sunghoon groans, pulling away in a haste to look into your eyes, feeling crazed at the way you seem to crave him. your warm skin brushing against him, the heat radiating through the pants. body pressing into him in all the right ways— wrong ways considering the situation.

“just a little longer please,” you reach forward, grabbing his face and mumbling against his lips before kissing him again. it is like a new found addiction, like a sparkle in a barren dystopia: intense, morish and the grief of having to leave it all behind. despite the obvious desire rolling off your tongue into his, sunghoon can feel the desperation of the situation where time in your hands stands limited.

where love stands limited and where life, stands apart.

goals ingrained in a space between choices that stand at odds, clashing against everything you have ever known, everything you have ever wanted to know.

there's a longing in the kiss you both are hesitant to address, the inevitable waiting for you at the end of the summer. “you are irresistible,” he pants into your mouth, fingers tracing shapes and squeezing the flesh of your thighs. pausing for a brief second and then leaning back in to press a couple more kisses. eyes closed, holding you in a tight hug after. one that sends your heartbeat to him and his to yours like a sync of feelings deep within your souls.

his thumb comes up to skim against your swollen lips as he mumbles,”i wish we met sooner,” biting the inside of his cheek at thought of you no longer being here by the end of the week. it is gonna be one hell of a hell to get back to a life without you. and as selfish as he wants to be, hoping to convince you to stay, sunghoon knows it is not right.

because unlike him, there is a whole different world waiting for you, outside this little island.

“me too.” the chirping of the birds reaches your ears, echoing in the silence of the room, piercing through the barely audible breathing. something that should only seem to calm you but now that you think of it, every place you would hear it, the sound of sunghoon's raspy voice wishing to have met you sooner would ring at the back of your mind.

from meeting the chickens he raised in his backyard to the story of his unavoidable choice to stay. from his lifeguard job at the beach to his early morning swimming lessons at the resident school pool. from helping him clean his old second hand car to kisses in his bedroom after a swim lesson. your summer was filled with things you never imagined to have experienced. a summer filled with genuine feelings. a place filled with happy memories.

a collision of paths so utterly different from one another, a fate weaved to happen: perhaps you and sunghoon were set to walk together, alongside, hand in hand. but perhaps it was just not the time yet.

there were things you wanted to achieve and places you wanted to be at. for now you would only wait with the hope of meeting him next summer.

“i'll come back, next summer,” you whisper, eyes locked with his, the sunlight from the balcony shining against his brown orbs,”i'll wait for you,” he smiles, holding you tighter.

YOU WONDER IF SUNGHOON WAS DESTINED TO MAKE YOU LOVE THIS LIFE, AWAY FROM YOUR PICTURE PERFECT ONE.

“yellow looks beautiful on you,” you are startled by the brush of sunghoon's lips against your earlobe, feeling his breath graze past your cheeks as he mutters, tone soft yet flirty.

you turn around to face him in a giggle, flustered still, even after all the flirting you went through all along summer. your eyes casting down to look at the flowy swimsuit hugging your body, embarrassment and confidence both tug at your heart.

“and the wet look, suits you,” a teasing gaze moves to scan him, arching your brows as you take in the exposed arms,”so well,” he is dressed in his usual tank top and shorts, albeit wet from what you assume, probably one of his lifeguard saves. skin tanned and shining, water dripping down his hair while he looks at you with squinted eyes..a hypnotic look that holds you back from breaking the eye contact.

“can’t believe you are in front of me right now,” he breathes out, taking a step closer in the sand, chest almost touching yours.

“can't believe it either. it's been a year,” your words tune out in a whisper, like a breeze along the shore, one that held so many hopes.

sunghoon's leans forward, his forehead resting against yours as he a mumbles a barely audible ‘yeah’. hands hesitantly coming up to hold your waist and then looping around in a firm grip.

yellow.

sunghoon spent the entire year looking longingly at all the yellows, yearning to catch a glimpse of you in every corner of the town you had been with him. watching the leaves fall in your aunt’s backyard while stealing glimpses at the window you used to stare at him through. the mango trees right across the road, reminding him of the taste of you, lingering at the back of his throat.

it was hard when everywhere he went he could only picture you by his side. it feels unreal to have you in his arms now, to think that once again, summer had come, and with it, it brought you.

perhaps it is love, that makes him crave you. he ponders, watching the sparkles of summer sun in your pretty and addicting eyes. wondering how he was able to survive a year without looking into them and feeling like you'll suck him in. no he has fallen in love, he concludes.

“you came to watch me flex my muscles, didn't you?” sunghoon asks, playing with the ends of your dyed hair, that looked shorter than he remembered. a sly smirk spreading across his lips, before he ducks down to nuzzle into your neck, leaving little open mouthed kisses against your exposed skin.

“you know i love it,” you tease, breath getting heavier and as his kisses get harsher.

“oh yeah? let's see if you actually know how to swim or you were just oogling me last summer,” your beach bag drops to the sand as sunghoon's arms hook behind your knees and he hauls you up in the air, throwing your body over his shoulder as he runs for the water.

tackling you into the waves, twirling you around and kisses along your face. so many unsaid words growing into emotions. squeals and giggles. a moment where you are in the moment, a moment where you are in love.

the bustling city of toronto housed the future you worked hard for, it kept you busy, it kept you passionate. your big aspirations and dreams, everything you had ever wanted, it held them all. you thought maybe, once you return to the life you knew, you'd eventually forget about this silly little island, and your silly little summer fling. you'd move on and chase the goals that had always defined you.

however, it seemed you failed to realize, that perhaps this was not what you wanted but what you needed and it did not have to define you. it could just be that: a silly little place that made you happy.

the town of st geroge was not a place for someone with big aspirations and dreams, someone much like you. but someone much like you was capable of falling in love with a place like that; and you did. you fell in love with that place. and you fell in love with park sunghoon.

TAGLIST ( open ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @enhabooks @criminalyun @oddracha @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @jayjw16enxp

[chatterbox-73]

Simptember 2024.

Day 11 - Last straw.

Tenya Iida x fem!Reader

This story is a smut story for simptember, I’ll be writing more characters x reader one shots for simptember and if you want to see a character please let me know...

You must be 18 years or older to read this...

🔞⚠️NO MINORS ALLOWED⚠️🔞

Summary: what happened when you teased a strict and stuck-in-his-ways man, well you find out after relentlessly teasing your husband and till his left with no choice but to punish you.

Word count: 1.4K

CW: NSFW and adult content, swearing, unprotected sex, oral (m!receiving), sex toys, anal play, double penetration, sexting/nudes, sending voices, DD/lg, restrains/handcuffing, grinding/dry-humping, eating cum, spanking, squirting, lingerie, implied aftercare.

Tenya Iida sat in his office scrolling through his phone, he had finished all his meetings and work for the day, now he patiently waited for the day to end, he always liked to wait until 11pm on the dot and he’d never leave a minute before… however you were making it very difficult.

You had been sending him dirty messages and pictures all day,

“Tenya please I need it…”

“Please I’m so desperate…”

“Look how soaked my panties are…”

And it only continued now, all the messages were still fairly modest, as you had the decency to not send him full view nudes while he was at work, at least he believed you were decent enough to not act in such manner.

*ping*

Tenya looked down at his phone and noticed a video file, he clicked the file and waited for it to load, when the video clip started you came into view, in nothing but a pink thong, you turned around and climbed onto the bed, wiggling your hips for the camera and turning to looked at it while you fondled your breasts, then the video cut off.

*ping*

“Please come home, I’m so lonely…”

“Daddy”

Tenya looked over at his clock and sighed 9:50pm, it was still so early and yet he was actually fighting himself, for what he wasn’t sure, his mind was weakly telling him to ignore your advances and save everything for the time he’s supposed to be home, while his body was telling him to forget his schedule and leave so he could take you, until you learnt your lesson. “Fuck…” Tenya huffed under his breath and clenched his fist.

*ping*

Another video file, he opened it and there you were, on the bed straddling a pillow, you moaned and whimpered as you ground your hips on the pillow, “daddy… oh I’m so close” you cried out throwing your head back and picking up your pace, your body suddenly stiffened and your fell forward, you looked into the camera, huffing and smiling before the video cut out again.

*ping*

“This pillow is nothing like your leg, daddy”

“But it’ll do”

Tenya suddenly stood to his feet and slung his bag over his shoulder, before leaving the office without allowing his mind the chance to rationalise the situation anymore, Tenya knew one thing for certain, he’d be going home and teaching you to respect his work hours.

You sat at the dining room table in a lavender babydoll slip, that was almost completely transparent, it left nothing to the imagination, the slip came with a matching thong that surprisingly gave you more privacy then its matching top, and too tie everything together you wore a pair of soft mint coloured heels, your watched the door and wondered with Tenya would be doing now, had he seen your videos, was he pleased with them or furious about them, had it been enough to get him to leave work early. You questioned to yourself but just as you where about to start spiralling into your thoughts, the front door swung open and in came Tenya in a huff, before you could say for do anything he dropped his bag and looked at you, “get in that bedroom now” his voice was strong and dangerous, you quickly stood and walked into the bedroom before kneeling next to the bed, you and Tenya had played his game before, though it was always so planned out and never like this.

Tenya walked into the room silently the only notice coming from him being his heavy footsteps, you watched as he walked into the closet and returned with a relatively large box, dropping it onto the bed and opening it he looked inside. Tenya reached in and grabbed what he wanted, you swallowed and tried to calm yourself but his next words only made your panic worse, “remember the safe word?” He asked and you nodded frantically, “say it…” he demanded and you took a shaky breath in, “kiwi..” you spoke clearly, however once he lifted the handcuffs your resolve left you, “hands” he spoke and reached out a hand for yours, you placed your hands in his one large hand and watched anxiously as he locks those cuffs on you, once on he grabs them and pulled you onto the bed.

You held your ass up as he pressed his hips into your rear, he rubbed his hands over your cheeks before raising his hand and sharply bringing it down onto your cheek, you cried out and he repeated this action again and again, “if only you have waited, I’d have made you feel so good and special, like your the only girl that matters” he hummed and rubbed a hand over the mark his made, you felt him pull back slightly before he pulled the string on your thong down, he pressed the thin fabric to his nose before he discarded it across the room. “So sweet, it almost makes me forget the way you tried to humiliate me” he chuckled and something wet and cold rubbed against your tightly puckered ring, “relax baby, daddy has a surprise for you” he laughed and began to force the object into your rear, by the feeling of it you recognised it as the pink beaded dildo, you whined and gripped the bedsheets, you tried to relax as he thrust the toy in and out of you slowly.

Just as you started to relax and it became easier to take it in the back he started to rub his thick dripping tip against your entrance, “I can’t take both… please don’t” you moaned and Tenya rolled his eyes, “now if you actually believed that baby, you’d use our special little word” he hummed and began to slide into you, dropping your face and chest onto the bed you cried at the fullness but didn’t say that word, how could you… it felt little heaven, never did you think he’d be filling you this much after sending those videos, his thrusts with slow and in time with the try how he suddenly started thrusting faster and in alternating movements with the toy, never once were you actually empty.

Your pleasure began to build, tipping you close and close to the finish line, and just as your reached your peak and began to cum hard, sudden pull the toy and himself out quickly, this caused a large explosion in your loins and a gush of liquid to flow out of you and all into the bed, “your a dirty slut, babygirl” Tenya hummed watch the last drops of release drip from your aching cunt, “turn and face me, now” he demanded and you moved as quickly as your shaky limbs would move you, Tenya sat back his legs open and one bent so he could rest his arm on it, “get that smart-arse mouth to work” he grunted.

You leant down immediately and began sucking his tip, however this wasn’t enough for Tenya as he wrapped his fingers into your hair and pushed you down onto his cock, you gagged and he held you there, watched you struggle before quickly pulling you back up for air, you gasped and took a few deep breaths before he started using as a human fleshlight, he groaned as you desperately swallowed around him and whine, despite the abuse on your throat this was turning into, it was fun and so damn hot… and better then what you imagined he’d do to you.

“Fuck baby… oh shit” Tenya huffed as his hips shuddered and you drank down every last drop of his cum, sitting up you smiled at him, “you should come home early more often…” you chuckled and Tenya leant forward, removing the handcuffs and tossing them into the box, “possibly… though maybe you could put on a little show, like the one you sent me, when I’m actually home to fulling enjoy it” he hummed and you nodded tiredly, before moving into Tenya’s arms and drifting off you sleep.

When you woke up a few hours later you noticed you were in a nice warm and clean bed, you were now dressed into a comfortable set of pyjamas, you looked over to your husband who sat reading a book, as if he felt your eyes on him, Tenya looked to you before he leant down and kissed your lips so warmly and passionately, you slightly craved more.

Simptember Masterlist

Day 10 - Hatsuharu Sohma: Closest distance

Day 12 - Itachi Uchiha: Gifts

[ladykailitha]

You're a Dream to Me Part 5

Hey, guys! Welcome back! I just finished this story yesterday and I'm a super excited for you all to see where it goes!

In this we have the reveal and how each of them deal with the news. Also Dustin's reaction is a bit backward, but in all fairness he wasn't full awake yet.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

~

Steve was somewhere he hadn’t been in these dreams before. He was standing in the wings of a major stadium watching his soulmate play.

His long curly hair flew about his hair as he headbanged to the song the band was playing. His fingers that held those rings danced along the frets. He was long and lean, his legs clad in tight leather pants, bullet belt on the slutty waist, feet shoved into combat boots. He wore crop top, sleeves cut out, showing the tattoos that dotted his skin.

Then he looked over at Steve and smiled. And Steve’s heart stopped. He recognized those deep brown eyes and dimples. He had seen them staring up at him from magazines and album covers for years.

Eddie Munson.

Holy shit. He giggled excitedly. He couldn’t believe it. His soulmate was Eddie Munson. Dustin had been right, the little butthead.

Then Eddie swept off stage and picked Steve up by the waist, swinging him around, kissing deeply. It was all Steve could do not laugh out loud at the sheer joy of it.

“Hey-ya, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured. “I missed you.” He kissed Steve again fiercely and Steve let him take over every inch of him. His hands slid down Steve’s body and his eyelids fluttered shut, biting back the moan that tried to claw out of his throat.

“I’ve been waiting for you, rockstar,” he murmured back. “For so long.”

~

Steve woke up with a gasp. He scrambled for his phone and the clock read 6:57am, three minutes before his alarm was supposed to go off. He flopped back on the pillows with a huff of annoyance. He wanted to go back to sleep to get back to his dream, but there was no chance of that.

But he had to go to work like a schmuck instead of being a literal fucking rockstar. Holy shit. He couldn’t believe it. Eddie Munson really was his soulmate. Wasn’t that a kick in the head? Like of the billions of people on the planet he would get the lead singer and guitarist of the biggest metal band in the world.

But also someone from his high school.

Suddenly the reason for his soulmate not being ready made sense. If he had been concentrating on his music until now, he probably hadn’t felt like he needed a soulmate. Not when he was on top of the world.

Steve still wondered what changed, but decided to take Robin’s advice and leave it alone. It would do no good to pick at that. Not unless Eddie wanted to tell him.

His alarm went off and he got up. He did his morning routine on autopilot as he looked up other tour dates. Yes, he was seeing the band at the Hideout, but he wanted to see if there were other, sooner days he could meet Eddie.

He called Robin when it was safe to do so, having learned his lesson from his first clear soulmate dream.

“Holy shit!” she cried when he told her. “That’s freaking epic. No ordinary soulmate for Steve Harrington. A mega rockstar worth millions. Only the best for my bestest friend and platonic soulmate.”

Steve blushed. “Thanks, Bobbie. I appreciate that. So I was wondering if you wanted to see them in concert before they came to Hawkins?”

“As in a vain attempt to get him to notice you and make eye contact?” she said with a note of amusement in her voice.

He chewed on his thumbnail and then blurted out. “Well it’s not like I can call up his management or agent and say ‘hey I’m his soulmate, and not just some rando creep’. Anyone with a half a brain is going to laugh me off the phone.”

“Oof,” Robin said with a grimace. “Yeah. I bet they get hundreds of calls a day of people claiming that shit. I’m sorry, Steve. Yes, I will absolutely help you stalk your soulmate in Indy.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

“I know,” she murmured back. “I’ll see you later and then we can plan a dramatic storming of the stage, okay?”

Steve agreed and then said goodbye, hanging up the phone. His next person he needed to tell was just down the hall.

Claudia had been upset that Dustin had decided to stay and see the concert. Even with Steve telling her it was the chance of a lifetime and that missing school for one week wouldn’t destroy his chances at a good career, it was decided it would be better for all if Dustin stayed with Steve during that week. Dustin still went home for dinner, but it was clear Claudia had thought the decision foolish.

Steve knocked on the door to the second bedroom. Back when Steve first got the place it was Robin’s room, but after she moved out with her soulmate it got turned in a guest room.

Dustin made some grunting noises that Steve took as permission to come in. He hopped on the bed, making Dustin bounce.

“Dude,” Dustin said rubbing his eyes. “What do you call this time?” He sat up to see Steve grinning at him.

“I know who my soulmate is,” Steve said sing-song, bouncing the bed again. “And you’re never going to believe who it is.”

“I refuse to be woken up for anyone less then Eddie Munson,” Dustin said, turning over to roll back to sleep.

Steve bounced on the bed again, his grin stretched out over his features taking up his entire face. “Wakey, wakey, Dusty!”

Dustin lay on his pillow for a moment until his still sleeping brain caught up to what Steve was insinuating. He shot up and Steve threw himself back to avoid getting smacked in the face. But he smirked when Dustin finally looked at him.

“There is no way!” he cried. “The odds would be astronomical that you would get a famous person. I know because I fucking checked!”

“Wow,” Steve said in genuine surprise. “Dustin Henderson talking about the odds instead of crowing that he was right. This is a momentous occasion indeed.”

Dustin folded his arms and pouted. “I hate that Robin got you that word a day calendar. You’ve gotten super verbose.”

Steve cackled. “I think it’s fantastic. But now I can ask him where he gets his rings so you can get replicas made...”

Dustin lit up. “Oh my God! All the things that I could ask him about his music and how he writes and if he still does D&D! This is totally wicked!”

Steve just grinned at him. “I’m so excited that he’s finally ready to meet me. Robin and I are going to try and get tickets to the Indy show, too. See if I can’t like try and make eye contact via the signing line.”

“Yeah,” Dustin said with a nod. “I am totally on board with that. Like I don’t have the money to go see them with you, but like imagine being backstage at The Hideout because you’re soulmates with the frontman of the band.”

Steve looked at his watch. “I’ve to open the shop in an hour, so I’ve got to get going.” He ruffled Dustin’s hair. “But I just wanted to tell you before I went to work.”

“You called Robin first, didn’t you?” Dustin asked dryly. “Like I’m currently staying at your place and she was still the first to know.”

“She is my best friend, Dustin,” he said gently, getting to his feet. “And when anything happens she’s my first call. I had just woken up and called her as soon as I could. You don’t usually stay here while you’re in town. This is a very special circumstances.”

Dustin rolled his eyes and huffed, “Yeah, yeah. Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Sure, bud.”

Steve got his breakfast on the go and practically skipped down the stairs to his car. He paused at the bottom step and looked up at his old apartment. Maybe it was time to move out and get a place that was all his own.

He had been living in the past for so long, he had almost forgotten how to live. Now that he knew who his soulmate was, it was like the universe had given him permission to move on and he felt lighter than he had in years.

He skipped to his car and whistled happily to the music in the car all the way to work. He put on the latest Corroded Coffin album for the speakers at work and got down to opening the store.

He even got to have a nice chuckle at some Karen opening the door to the bookstore and immediately closing it again when she heard the music. She never did come back, much Steve’s unbridled glee.

By the time Robin got into work, Steve was halfway through putting up a display of Corroded Coffin merchandise on the main table.

“Sap!” Robin said, skidding to a stop. “You are going to be absolutely disgusting with your soulmate, I can already tell. Like Gomez and Mortica levels of unhinged devotion.”

Steve looked up at her, his whole countenance positively beaming. “Do you really think so? Gosh. If we were even a tenth that level, I think I would be pretty happy.”

The teasing grin fell off Robin’s face and was replaced by a fond smile. She knew that Steve had been waiting a long time for his soulmate and had about given up hope that they would meet while they still had time to build a relationship. But now?

He was like a puppy who had been adopted to a loving home for the first time and still couldn’t believe its luck.

“I’m happy for you, dingus.”

~

Eddie woke up feeling annoyed. He had been dreaming about Harrington for years but recently the dreams had gone from steamy and sexy to lovey-dovey and pure unadulterated sap. What the honest fuck was up with that? He was supposed to be getting soulmate dreams not whatever the hell this was with Harrington.

He swung his legs off the bed and sat up. He scrubbed his face and stood up. He got halfway to the bathroom when he came to a sudden stop.

He looked back at the bed for a moment.

One of the most common aspects of soulmate dreams was the clarity in which you could remember them. Like with other dreams, you might remember them or maybe bits and pieces, but often once you woke up they vanished like fog before the morning sun.

But lately he had could recall each dream with startling accuracy. Like he could remember the way Steve nuzzled into his neck, the constellations they looked at, and most importantly, the song he was playing in his last dream.

But there was no way right?

Steve Harrington must be on his way to the six kids and the white picket fence by now, right? There is no way that ladies’ man, sex on legs wouldn’t have gotten his soulmate by now. That the universe would be that fucking cruel not to give the guy the best soulmate the world had to offer as soon as possible, instead of some asshole who was prejudiced against anyone who didn’t match his own aesthetics.

Yeah, yeah. He was over that now. But how long had Steve had to wait for him if he was right? Was it weeks or months? Because if it was years...

He stomach seemed to hollow out and he felt a swooshing feeling from his head to his toes.

Steve Harrington was his soulmate?

There could be no other answer.

He dropped to a crouch and put his head between his legs as he fought regain equilibrium. Once he felt like he could stand, he got up and grabbed his phone.

“Hey, Chris,” he muttered, biting his thumb nail. “You’re never gonna believe this.”

~

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Tag List: ONE SLOT REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @themoonagainstmers @eyehartart @tartarusknight @chaotic-waffle @dotdot-wierdlife

10- @stedestielfrattficlover @steddieislife @riotrose8 @bunnybens-blog

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Chibs with a reader around the same age as Juice and they do it on Chibs’s bike at the club house thinking nobody is there but they get caught by a few of the members

Teach Me How to Ride.

Synopsis - Chibs is teaching you how to ride (in more ways than one).

Pairing - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. age gap.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 1k

Author's Note - thank you SO much for this request, anon. it made me feral. that old man owns me and i'm not sorry about it. always open to SOA and chibs requests. <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

"Any weekend plans, darlin'?"

You smile at the blonde man sat on the other side of the bar you're wiping down.

"Nothing too exciting. I think I'm gonna try and get out on my bike."

His brows raise in curiosity.

"You have a bike now?"

"Yeah. Chibs is teaching me how to ride."

"I bet he is."

You roll your eyes at the snickers that come from the other guys who are dotted around the room.

"Real mature, Jax."

"Is he charging you for these lessons, or are you paying him in other ways?"

You put down your cloth and look up.

"I'll jump over this bar and beat your ass right now, Tig. Don't think I won't."

They all laugh, and you can't help but chuckle along with them. You know they mean well. They'd do anything for you, in a heartbeat.

Eventually, the sun sets, and all of the guys make their way home. You've been restocking the bar, not minding staying a little later if it means you get the job done.

You're crouched down filling the fridge when you hear a familiar Scottish accent echo though the clubhouse.

"You still here, sweetheart?"

You stand up and smile at him, grinning wider when he reciprocates.

"Still here. Trying to get my shit done."

"That's my girl. Always working ten times harder than the rest of us."

You laugh, throwing him a beer.

"You're here late. How did the run go?"

"All good, nothing to worry about," he winks.

You think back to Jax's comment earlier, and decide you've had enough of avoiding the truth. You want answers. You also just kind of want to know what he'll say.

"Why does everyone think we're fucking?"

Chibs practically chokes on his drink, taken aback by your sudden brashness.

"What?"

"You heard me."

He takes a moment to process, before a slow smile etches itself onto his face.

"Why do you ask that?"

"Just something Jax said earlier."

"Ignore that bastard. He doesn't think before he speaks."

You chuckle in agreement, finishing up your jobs for the day.

"You wan' a ride home?"

You nod gratefully, making sure to lock up before walking over to where Chibs is leaning against his bike. He's parked by the door, under the shelter, obscured from the yard. He slips a helmet onto your head, before standing in front of you to do up the buckle. His rough fingertips slide under your chin, clasping the straps in place. He swipes a thumb over your bottom lip gently, eyes never leaving your face.

"You're too good for me," he murmurs. "Pretty young thing like you."

"Everyone already thinks we're fucking anyway," you whisper, smirk on your face.

He chuckles lowly, before leaning in to capture your lips with his. He kisses you with need, unbuckling the helmet he just put on you and dropping it to the ground. He's grabbing at you - your hips, your ass, anywhere he can find. You've got your hands tangled in his hair, yanking roughly when he bites your lip.

The two of you waste no time. Chibs is shrugging his jacket off while unbuttoning your pants, pulling them down. You're fumbling with his belt, undoing his jeans with shaky hands. You're both high on adrenaline, desperate to feel the other person. He smashes his lips back to yours and you groan, reveling in the way he tastes like smoke and peppermint.

Chibs grabs your hips and walks you backwards, twirling you around so you're bent over his bike. You can't help but laugh, remembering what Jax had said.

"What?" he chuckles into your ear, hot and heavy against your back.

"Nothing," you giggle. "I'll tell you later. You gonna fuck me, old man, or just stand there?"

He growls under his breath and smacks your ass as punishment, smirking when you whine.

"You gonna ask me nicely, sweetheart?"

At this point, you're not above begging. Besides, you know it'll do wonders for his ego, and you don't entirely mind that.

"Please, Chibs," you whinge. "Waited so long for this."

"Oh, ya have?" he coos. "Better not keep you waitin' then."

In one smooth thrust he slides home, both of you groaning in unison. He plants a hand on the back of your neck, the other with a firm grip on your hip, providing him with leverage. He sets a steady, even pace, careful not to knock the bike over.

He tilts his hips upwards a little and you keen, seeing stars.

"Right there? Yeah? That's it, isn't it?"

You only nod in response, holding onto the motorcycle for dear life. You trust him, though. You know he won't let you fall.

"Fuck, darlin'. You feel so good."

"So close," you choke out.

"I know, I know. Can feel you squeezin' me. Come on, that's it. Good girl."

The lilt of his accent combined with the glide of his hips is lethal, sending you over the edge in no time. You see stars, heart racing and mind blank.

Your undoing is also Chibs'. He groans as he finds his release, leaning over to rest his head between your shoulders. You're both panting, chests heaving as you recover.

After a moment, the bike groans, and you both jump up, laughing as you do it. You're redressing, Chibs stealing kisses from you, when you hear a voice cut through the darkness.

"Well, shit. I was only kidding earlier."

You can hear Jax's teasing drawl before he comes into view, cocky smirk drawn across his face.

You groan as Chibs rolls his eyes and throws his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. Both of you know you're not going to hear the end of this for a long time.

[dreamgirlbny]

mean!ellie rambles

because i love mean ellie williams <3 and reader: brat to the core. 18+ minors dni

content: lowkey toxic, but she does love reader. lots. punishments, crying kink?, use of strap mentioned. daddy kink not mentioned but keep it in mind cause ellie 100% makes reader call her daddy.

she would be very nosy about everything; your friends, your plans, your grades in uni classes, your outfits when going out without her, who you texted. she had so many rules that she claimed were for your safety. you suppose they really were, but sometimes it was exhausting, to say the least. but you knew she did it out of love, as she would remind you over and over again every time she made you cry when she was just a bit too harsh with her words.

secretly, though, the thing she loved most about you was how easily she'd get you there. oh, she loved making you cry. loved the way your face would crumble up at the slight change of tone in her voice, how quickly your chin would wobble when she would bring up her disappointments, how sweet you were when the tears would finally fall, clinging onto her shirt desperately even while you told her how mean she was being.

but you couldn't complain much, when you knew she would always make it up to you. buying you every item of clothing you so desired (after being approved by her, of course) taking you out on nice dinners, helping you pick out pretty decorations, taking you out to the movies and buying the entire concession stand if you wished, and the one thing that was always guaranteed, making you cum repeatedly on her rough fingers at the end of the day.

the truth is, she treats you very well; she just asks that you follow her extensive rules in return. you should know them like the back of your hand by now, after the countless nights of having you repeat them one by one as she spanked you with her belt when you misbehaved, or writing them down again and again while she made you cockwarm her strap until she felt it had finally gotten through your thick skull. and in those cases, when you had to be punished for breaking a rule, she would never let you cum. because while she encouraged bratty behavior, loving a chance to put you back in your place, breaking a rule was out of the question. and that would make it hurt even worse, but in her words, "it makes the lesson stick for longer, sweetheart."

and, on the days you were being especially obedient, she could be very sweet. small praises throughout the day, affectionate gazes and loving touches. she could let little things slide (with a verbal reprimand) if you were ultimately being good. she'd bring you all your favorite things; favorite coffee, favorite flowers, favorite food, a restock of your favorite makeup items. it became almost a daily occurrence for her to ask you how you were gonna behave that day, never being able to go thrice in a row being a good girl. one time you made it a whole week, exactly a week, shocking you both; but almost to the dot on the 8th day, the attitude that took over your body could only be described as Satan's spirit itself. it even shocked you honestly. and the punishment that followed it taught you both that small lash outs over the week were better than prolonged obedience.

[shaunamilfman]

wicked and weary [1]

pairing: Jackie Taylor x Shauna Shipman x f!reader Summary: You and your girlfriends were survivors. At least, that's how the story goes. You weren't eager to correct them. Two years after the murders in Wiskayok, the three of you have built a life together at college, free from all the horrors of the past. At least, you thought you were. Note: minors dni. warning for graphic descriptions of violence and probably smut in the series in general. sequel to the ghost you dressed up as. literally unreadable without them lmaoo. Masterlist

Jackie groans as your alarm goes off, slapping wildly in its general direction but only managing to catch you on the side of the head. It somehow never fails to wake Jackie up when it wasn’t set for her classes. Otherwise, she could sleep through the apocalypse. She was always such a morning person in high school, but that hadn’t lasted long after graduation. It was true what they said: college 8 AM was not high school 8 AM. Jackie had learned that lesson the hard way her freshman year. You can’t say she doesn’t learn now that she avoids them like the plague. You weren’t so lucky.

You hiss in pain, though it honestly didn’t hurt that much, as you reach over Shauna to turn it off yourself. Your motivation for crying out anyway is entirely selfish, even in your half-asleep state. Jackie gasps the moment she connects the dots—your head, her hand, your cry of pain—rolling over in your arms in a mess of blanket as she presses her palm apologetically against the side of your forehead.

While you appreciate the effort, it mostly just serves to put pressure on your sore skin. You keep that to yourself, happy to accept Jackie scooting close to press a kiss against your forehead. She hooks one bare leg loosely over yours to draw herself closer, careful not to nudge Shauna too hard as she does. She couldn’t go around hitting both of her girlfriends on the same day, after all. There are limits, even if Jackie pretends she can’t see them.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Jackie murmurs as she peppers kisses across your forehead, still so affectionate even barely conscious. 

Shauna was warm against your back, her limp arm resting heavily over your side. She always slept like that when you had to get up before her so that you couldn’t avoid waking her up on your way out. You always have to peel her off of you before you can take a shower, a necessary evil with how hot she made you at night. You wake up sweaty more often than not.

It was devious of her, truly, but you had to let her get that in when she could. It’s not like she has many options to express that anymore these days.

You try to seem unaffected by it if only to draw more kisses, but you can’t keep the dopey grin from your face for long. Jackie has that effect on everyone; even you can only resist it for so long. There has to be some kind of built-up immunity. Shauna’s at least partially an example of that, but it hasn’t seemed to become any less effective over the years as far as you were concerned.

“Baby is right,” Shauna murmurs against the back of your neck, her voice low and teasing and thick with sleep. The sound of it makes you shiver, especially with her being close enough that you can feel her breath brushing against her skin as she speaks. Jackie gives you a commiserating look. “Milking it, much?”

You snort, caught between laughter and embarrassment at being caught so easily. Maybe it wasn’t your most thought-out plan, but a girl could only think so much before 9 AM. You were working with what you had, and it was going perfectly fine before she stepped in.

Jackie presses twin kisses against your flushed cheeks as she murmurs in your ear, “Jealous.”

“Damn, Shauna,” you say, shifting to face her. Jackie grumbles as you do so, reluctantly cuddling up against your back as she props herself up on her arm to watch the two of you better. “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed already?”

You can see Shauna’s exhaustion on her face as she blinks those brown eyes sleepily, that hazy, half-awake glow that makes you want to grab her cheeks and squeeze them together. She would definitely bite you for it, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Not when it comes to her, at least. It would make quite the interesting wake-up call if you weren’t already on the verge of running late to start getting ready.

The sleep lines across her face certainly don’t help with the urge. She’s so cute. A terrifying murderer capable of extreme violence, but so cute. Shauna might don the mask again if she heard you say that, though.

Shauna scoffs quietly, pinching at the skin of your hip lazily as she presses her face more firmly into your shoulder. “Just for that, I’m not letting you go to class.”

Jackie hums in agreement, reaching over your shoulder to pat Shauna on the arm. “She always has the best ideas.”

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with who’s in my class.”

Their ensuing silence speaks volumes. No jokes, no teasing words, nothing. It was like you just shouted in a quiet room.

You sigh. “You promised you wouldn’t be weird—”

“We’re not weird,” Shauna cuts in, immediately over-defensive.

At the same time, Jackie asks with feigned nonchalance, “Who’s being weird?”

“Melissa, again?” You ask, rolling your eyes. If they weren’t pressed up so firmly against you on either side, you would’ve gotten up and left just to avoid the same damn conversation for the third time this week. “You can’t just hate her because she has a, and I quote, punchable face.”

“That’s a little much,” Jackie admits with a nod. Shauna huffs irritably as she holds tighter to your hip.

“Though,” she continues thoughtfully, “That hat of hers is a little much. It’s offensive. A crime to the eyes.”

“You two are so normal.”

“She picked your notebook up when you dropped it,” Shauna accuses.

“She laughed at your joke. It wasn’t even funny. That’s my job,” Jackie adds darkly before adding, “Our job. Sorry, Shauna.”

“Too bad. The two of you made friends, so now I get one too. You only have yourselves to blame.”

“Jackie made a friend first. With Lottie of all people,” Shauna grumbles.

“Lottie’s nice,” Jackie defends, though her heart isn’t all the way in it. 

You think she might give her up in a heartbeat if you agree to never talk to anyone else ever again—you can’t say you aren’t tempted—but that was just how she was. Your first few years of high school, you didn’t think anyone existed in Jackie Taylor’s world but Shauna Shipman. That was still mostly true, but you somehow found yourself as another exception. Even now you aren’t entirely sure what it was about you that drew them to you in the first place, but you aren’t one to question a good thing.

Maybe a few of your friends got murdered in the process, but you weren’t really all that fond of them in the long run. Most friendships end after high school anyway, right? Still, you might go ahead and skip the reunion. Not that you’ve really been planning on attending anyway. Half the school suspecting you of murdering your fellow classmates for a good part of your senior year can make those “remember when” moments a touch awkward.

Even after Travis and Jeff were all but found guilty on account of both of them being dead—a murder-suicide that only the three of you knew wasn’t quite what happened—there was still the occasional conspiracy theorist who thought you had something to do with it. Crazy, right?

You couldn’t blame them.

“As long as she’s nice,” you say teasingly, shrugging Jackie’s arm off your shoulder as you start to wiggle your way out of their grasps.

“She never thought you killed people,” Jackie points out, taking a chance to cop a feel before she lets you go.

“She did kill those people,” Shauna says wryly.

You squirm away from her hand with a quiet laugh, nearly climbing over Shauna as you stumble out of your bed. It wasn’t quite your bed—in the sense that it wasn’t the one assigned to you. That was shoved off in the corner above your desk. Jackie had a brainstorm, her words, your first day in the dorm and pushed her and Shauna’s twin beds together. It practically doubled the amount of space you used to share on Shauna’s twin bed at home. You can’t deny that you enjoy not having to worry about waking up on the floor in the morning.

Jackie always made you move them back apart whenever it was time for the dorm to be inspected, insisting that she didn’t want to give anyone any ideas about what was happening in here. Pointing out that she didn’t seem to mind giving anyone any ideas when Lottie had playfully flirted with you two semesters before hadn’t done you any favors. In fact, it had just led to you lugging the twin across the room by yourself while she sat on her bed and crossed her arms until you were done. 

Truthfully, you didn’t much see the point of the whole thing. The fact that your lofted bed over your desk was covered in boxes—a mix of Jackie’s many winter clothes, books Shauna insisted she needed, and the collection of things you couldn’t find a place for—didn’t seem to support that heterosexual lifestyle she was trying to portray to the RA anyway. 

You’ve learned to pick your battles over the years.

Just like how, when you hear the two of them bickering on the bed behind you, you mind your business as you quietly creep out of the room to go take a shower before class. You wouldn’t have it any other way, really.

…

“God,” Melissa says, walking half a step too fast to keep up with you. She was far too chipper for someone who just walked out of a double-block lecture, but that was Melissa for you. She’s the only person you’ve ever met who could stand to rival Jackie in that regard.

It’s just enough to be noticeable, but not enough for you to think much of it. You would slow down enough for her to keep step with you easier, but not today. Not when the promise of being sandwiched between your girlfriends at your usual lunch table eating fries stolen off of Shauna’s plate is so close at hand.

“She’s such a hardass,” Melissa continues, glancing over at you when you don’t immediately respond.

You hum distractedly, looking around to see if either of them has decided to meet you outside of class. It’s only when you’re sure they’re just going to meet you there that you finally give Melissa your full attention.

“Did she knock you off a bunch of points for your essay again?” You ask. The thought was a little irritating, considering you took time out of your busy schedule—your usual making out with Jackie before she had to leave for class time—to help her look over what the professor had marked her off for last time. It was a fairly easy elective, one that you added just to save time to study for your harder classes, but Melissa was really seeming to struggle with it. She certainly needed your help with enough stuff, at least.

“Yes!” Melissa says, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she walks. She pauses to adjust her hat as a gust of wind catches the brim of it and nearly knocks it off her head before jogging to catch up with you again. “Something about the structure or something. I don’t know. Will you go over it later with me?”

“It’s an easy enough class,” you say more to yourself than anyone else, wincing as the words actually come out of your mouth. That sounded a little too much like Shauna for your taste.

“Easy for you,” Melissa says. It would be easy enough for the words to come out bitterly, as deserved as it would be, but they were anything but. The words were light, almost admiring. It was entirely too sweet, like a compliment you didn’t ask for. You aren’t sure you’re entirely comfortable with it.

“But will you?”

“Melissa,” you sigh, giving up as she pouts over at you. God knows you fell victim to that enough. “Yeah, sure. But you’re buying me lunch.”

Melissa cheers, bumping your shoulder with hers like you just agreed to go to prom with her. She doesn’t seem to notice the step you take in the other direction as you put a little more space between the two of you. That, or she just doesn’t comment on it. Sometimes you think she sees more than you give her credit for, then you watch her gasp in awe as someone walks a golden retriever across the street, and the thought dies before it can be fully formed.

She talks a lot more than she should, happy to fill up the silence on your end as you make the long walk to lunch. It was nice enough, and you didn’t entirely mind listening to her talk about her issues with Gen. If there’s one thing you’ve noticed about Melissa, it’s that she really talks with her hands. It draws a lot of attention from passersby, but no amount of dirty looks seems to get to her at all. Her best friend was the obvious choice for a roommate, but sometimes living together was an entirely different thing. It certainly was for them, at least. 

You and your girlfriends had fallen into step without much issue before you’d even begun to unpack, but you’d practically lived together as much as your parents had allowed in high school anyway.

Melissa reminds you a bit of Jackie in a weird way. Jackie was all sharp edges and cherry lip gloss, her prettiest dress on with a knife held just behind her back. Melissa’s… nice. She’s soft where Jackie is steel. Chatty, but not in that effortlessly charming way that Jackie was. Chatty in a way that could get annoying. Every now and then you’ll catch a familiar glimpse of your girlfriend in the purse of Melissa’s lips or the way she tilts her head. It wasn’t a direct comparison; no one could compare to Jackie in any way that matters.

But it was still a thought in the back of your mind sometimes. You know that if you ever voiced it aloud, it would end with Melissa’s head being separated from her body, but you can’t help the thought.

It was probably why you started hanging out with her in the first place. That, and refusing not to have a friend of your own when your girlfriends’ both did. It was Jackie’s fault, really, because Shauna only befriended Tai because she refuses to let Jackie have anything she doesn’t. Petty antics dressed as fair play. Maybe you could’ve ended the cycle, but you don’t date the two of them without matching their crazy at least a little bit. 

Hell, you once murdered Jackie’s boyfriend. You justified it with him knowing too much, but you mostly just wanted to kill him for the sake of it.

Still, thinking of the two of them in the same sentence was not a good idea. Jackie doesn’t share well, and Shauna doesn’t share at all. You like the way they get so riled up by the mere mention of her name. It reminds you pleasantly of that girl you went out with in high school, the one who had made everything finally fall into place for the three of you.

By the time you head to your usual booth toward the back, free food in hand courtesy of Melissa, everyone else has already shown up. You slide into the obvious seat left for you, on the end next to Jackie, who always loved to sit in the middle. Melissa hesitates as she catches sight of your invited guest in her seat, who steadfastly pretends not to see Melissa staring at her as she twirls her finger around in her water cup.

Not to be run off by the likes of Misty Quigley, Melissa sits her food down on the table and walks off to drag a chair over with an obnoxiously loud screech as she sits down. The look she gives Misty is nasty enough that you raise an eyebrow in shock, unaware she was capable of such a thing. The look of sudden intrigue on Shauna’s face as she looks over tells you that she wasn’t aware of it either. Shauna’s eyes glance up and down Melissa’s body, suddenly reassessing her.

Misty doesn’t flinch at the look Melissa gives her. She barely even acknowledges it. 

You don’t give it much thought as Jackie rests her head against your arm, looking up at you with an amused look as she subtly glances at Misty and then back again. It’s not that Jackie entirely minds her presence, but the girl has been all but stalking her around campus since they worked together on a group project last semester.

Shauna was almost hysterical over the whole thing, and you’ve had to calm her down from storming over to Misty’s dorm and slitting her throat more than once. You aren’t entirely sure that you’ll be up for stopping her the next time it happens. No one could stalk your girlfriends but you, after all.

You wrap your arm around Jackie’s waist without much thought, fingers curling beneath her shirt and squeezing her hip affectionately before you draw your hand back. Her breath hitches almost imperceptibly, a tiny sigh that barely manages to leave her lips for all that you can hear it. Jackie’s face is flushed as you pull back, which momentarily leaves you confused until you remember exactly which hip you grabbed: the one that bears the scars of your initials. It hadn’t been purposeful, but you’re sure some deep part of you reached for it instinctively. Casual. Territorial.

Jackie likes when you're possessive.

“In public?” Jackie murmurs beneath her breath.

Without missing a beat, you glance in Misty’s direction. She’s sitting too close and seems entirely too interested in what you’re whispering about. Then you look back to find Jackie smirking, an invitation even as she eyes you in clear warning.

The small smile Shauna’s been giving you since you sat down turns into an eye roll as you reach over to snag one of her fries. There were already quite a few missing, and you have a sneaking suspicion that it has more to do with Jackie than it does with Shauna. The smug grin on Jackie’s face as she watches you eat it all but confirms it.

“Buy your own fries,” Shauna says, holding her arm out to block her tray.

“Maybe I should wear my own clothes too,” you quip, tugging at the collar of Shauna’s oversized flannel draped over your shoulders.

Her eyes narrow warningly before she draws her hand back with a sigh, turning her ire on Tai as she snickers from the other side of the table. “What are you looking at?” Shauna snaps, which doesn’t stop the smug grin from growing larger on Tai’s face as she just shrugs her shoulders.

“Nothing,” Tai says, utterly unbothered by Shauna’s glare. You’re actually impressed by the whole thing. “You’ve just gotten so domestic.”

After the way you’ve seen her act with Van, you don’t think she has much room to talk, and her sudden and intense interest in her drink seems to indicate she thinks the same.

Then, Misty jumps in. Uninvited and just a beat too late.

“Did you get dressed in the dark?” Misty asks with a forced laugh. It’s jagged around the edges, like she’s been practicing it in the mirror and it doesn’t come out the way she’s rehearsed it. She fiddles with the arm of her glasses as the whole table turns to look over at her. “Y’know, just sometimes I put on clothes I didn’t mean to either…”

Jackie blinks in surprise, a look bordering on disbelief on her face until it smooths into something carefully neutral. Her lips twitch reflexively before stilling. Whether it was into a smile or a grimace, you can’t tell. Lottie takes a loud sip from her nearly empty drink, slowly rolling the glass and frowning at the jingling ice. The clink of it is too deliberate to be anything but a performance. Melissa just straight out snickers, pressing her hand up to her mouth in a delayed effort to hide it. There’s too much obvious glee in her eyes for it to be anything but.

Tai emits a short, dry, “Huh.” Somehow devoid of judgment and so full of it at the same time.

You feel Jackie’s hand suddenly grip your thigh, her thumb digging in hard enough your whole body freezes in place. It has the intended effect—a warning—while also serving to bring your attention entirely away from Misty to focus on not crying out in pain. That was a Shauna trick right there. Your girlfriends were teaming up against you.

In an added Jackie touch, she strokes her thumb apologetically over what you’re sure is a blooming bruise. It would be soft and loving if she wasn’t the one who put it there. Despite her being the guilty party, you still think it's soft and loving. They’ve broken you.

“Did you think that’s the same thing?” Shauna asks, unimpressed. She’s not one to be outdone. Jackie picked the wrong girlfriend to worry about in all the chaos. Shauna leans back in her seat, watching Misty with the same detached curiosity she gave your victims.

Misty’s smile falters as she glances around at the other girls, who all seem to be busy. Except for Lottie, who shrugs, and Jackie, who smiles at her encouragingly.

“Uh, yeah, Misty,” you agree, turning your attention down to your lunch. “Totally.”

It takes a concentrated effort on your part not to choke on a mouthful of your lunch as Jackie squeezes your thigh appreciatively. Now that you’re thinking about it, you could actually be nicer to Misty. There’s no sudden motivation for that, of course. 

Misty opens her mouth again, presumably to dig the hole deeper, but Jackie beats her to it.

“God, I’ve got the worst test on Friday.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Lottie interjects. It’s one of the first things she’s said the whole time you’ve been sitting here, and it’s terribly ominous. Not the words themselves—they were fairly normal—but there was something about the way that she said them. The absolute certainty on her face as she looks up from the packets of sugar she was stacking on the table.

“Why did that sound like a threat?” Melissa whispers, visibly shuddering as she stares at Lottie from across the table. She coughs as you elbow her in the side.

“You never want to worry about anything,” Jackie says, equally dismissive and playful. 

Lottie just smiles across the table, watching you a moment too long before looking away again. No one seems to notice but you and Shauna, who sits up straighter in her seat.

The rest of lunch goes better than the start of it, which probably wasn’t that hard, all things considered. You like the group of girls you’ve acquired, but you think you would still rather it have just been the three of you. Jackie finally seems to take pity on you, mostly just Shauna and her tapping leg beneath the table, and announces that she needs to get to the library to study.

You slide out of the booth with nothing short of relief, Shauna stumbling after you like she hasn’t seen sunlight in days. Melissa starts to stand up to tell you goodbye, but a well-placed glare from Shauna has her slinking back into her seat. She doesn’t seem all that upset about the whole thing, at least.

“See you later…” Melissa says.

Jackie glances around, her eyebrows scrunching together as she scans the table. “Have you seen…”

Lottie holds up Jackie’s tote bag knowingly.

She grins, leaning down to give a still-seated Lottie a one-armed hug before she pulls it over her shoulder with a dramatic groan.

“Heavy?” Lottie asks, like she didn’t just hand it to Jackie effortlessly.

You share a glance with Shauna, who silently holds out one fist over her palm. Rock, paper, scissors. A silent countdown, paper to her scissors, before you pull away with a sigh. You never did seem to beat her. She cheats somehow—you just can’t prove it. Shauna was slippery like that.

“Need help, Jackie?”

Jackie shrugs it off her shoulder without a second thought as she holds it out in your direction. “Thanks, babe.” She nearly skips out of the room without bothering to look behind her as you follow behind.

…

“Baby!” Jackie shouts excitedly as she walks through the door, eyes widening when she catches sight of more of her girlfriends than she was expecting. 

Or, maybe, it was the sight of Shauna sitting pretty in your lap, eyes half-lidded and face flushed with arousal. Her lips are pink and swollen from the effort she’s been expending as she works a line of kisses across your skin. She pulls back reluctantly, almost looking annoyed at Jackie’s interruption until her face softens into something more welcoming as she glances back over her shoulder. Jackie’s footsteps falter, and her face twists into something between awe and a flicker of jealousy that she wasn’t already a part of it.

Your fingers are still loosely curled in Shauna’s hair as you look over her shoulder at Jackie, both of your breathing ragged as she leaves your skin marked and wet with her spit. Both of you were far too interested in one another to notice anyone else until Jackie came stumbling in. Shauna’s shirt is long gone, something that draws Jackie’s attention long enough that you have to gently remind her to close the door behind her. 

“Door, Jackie,” you prompt gently.

“Door, Jax,” Shauna repeats. Jackie didn’t seem to notice when you said it the first time. Now she nods slightly in understanding.

The two of you are still frozen with the odd feeling of being a teenager again. Like you got caught doing something that you shouldn’t have been doing. Shauna catches your eyes, shrugging slightly before leaning in to give you a parting kiss. It wasn’t nearly as chaste as that sort of thing should have been, but you were just as guilty of it as she was. You could never get enough of either of them.

Jackie steps in the room absently as she shuts the door, more out of a desire to do what you say than any real understanding of why she should. It takes her a moment, but she manages to shake herself out of it just in time to cross her arms over her chest.

“You started without me?” Jackie asks. She sounds heartbroken, but the both of you know that she’s mostly just playing. Mostly. If she had it her way, you wouldn’t even get a peck on the lips without her being able to see it.

“Just keeping the bed warm for you,” you tease, running your hand up the outside of Shauna’s thigh as you relax into the pillows. Shauna’s eyes fall down to watch as your thumb slowly presses against the place you know your initials lie, lovingly carved into her skin. She grabs at your shoulder pointedly, tracing her own. 

Jackie clears her throat exaggeratedly as she stops at the side of the bed.

Your hands settle on Shauna’s hips, fingers flexing to trace across bare skin above the waistband of her jeans. They did excellent things for her thighs, so you really can’t be blamed for getting distracted again. Neither can Shauna be blamed for rolling her hips down against your lap.

She never did anything wrong, of course.

“Should’ve just waited for me,” Jackie complains lightly, tipping Shauna’s head back to kiss her. Never truly upset—just enough to get her some attention for herself.

Shauna moves easily, grabbing at Jackie’s belt loops as she tugs her into bed. You can hear the mattresses protesting beneath Jackie’s knees, a squeaky noise you’ve more than gotten used to over the last two years. You barely acknowledge the sound anymore, especially when you’re far too content to watch the two of them kiss. With a front row seat to the action, you wouldn’t care if the ceiling caved in. A squeaky bed was barely enough to register in your mind

Jackie pulls away just long enough to kiss you too, a hello just as much as it was renewing her claim on you. You pull one hand away from Shauna’s hips to cut Jackie’s chin, an action that earns you a huffed complaint from her direction. She kisses you like she missed you, flattering even knowing she couldn’t have possibly had a chance to.

“Mmm, wait,” Jackie murmurs against your lips, pulling away even as you try to chase after her. She doesn’t want to, you can tell, but there’s something holding her back. You don’t like the thought of that at all, and it’s obvious Shauna doesn’t either.

“Waited long enough,” Shauna insists, shifting in your lap. It’s clear that she at least is planning on reclaiming your attention if Jackie doesn’t want it. You can always count on Shauna to be horny, at least.

Jackie grins, slowly shaking her head as her expression becomes more serious. “Look,” she says, holding a newspaper up. It’s the campus paper, that trashy newspaper that the three of you mock more often than not. More rumor mill than hard-hitting journalism, the kind of thing that Shauna has called an insult to the written word. 

There have been some really atrocious headlines in your time, but you can’t imagine what Jackie could deem funny enough to turn down a chance to get some. Even as you turn your head on the pillows to get a better look at it, you’re still half-expecting it to be some sex cult rumor involving the math department that you can laugh about while you work Jackie’s shirt up and over her shoulders.

Right there on the front page: a grainy photo of a blood-soaked shoe sticking out behind yellow tape. It takes you longer than it should to realize that the shoe is connected to an ankle, the body just out of view behind the corner of a building. It’s not a building you know well enough to recognize on sight, but you’re familiar enough with the architecture to realize that you must’ve passed it a few times on the way to one class or another.

Far more local than you’re comfortable with. You see why Jackie might be concerned with the whole thing, but why would she—

The mask.

The mask. The one that the three of you had once adorned. White. Long mouth frozen in a scream, one often mirrored by those whose last sight it made up. Black hood splayed out across the concrete. Those familiar, soulless holes staring out at you from the arches of the eyes. 

It can’t be the masks. That, at least, would be impossible. You had burned all of them in high school, but that didn’t stop them from still selling them. It was just a stupid costume shop mask, one of the cheapest that Shauna could find when she and Jackie had first started the whole thing.

Above it all, the bolded headline practically screams at you: “Ghostface returns?”

Shauna goes absolutely still in your lap as her eyes trace the letters in disbelief, the playful rocking of her hips halting in the face of her shock. Her lips are parted, silently mouthing the words as if that would make them untrue. She leans forward suddenly, snatching the paper from Jackie’s hands with a roughness you’ve almost grown unfamiliar with.

“Who is it?” You ask, not bothering to try to get the paper out of Shauna’s hands.

“Shut up,” Shauna says, squeezing your side with her knees. “I’m trying to read.”

“I just don’t get how—”

“What did I say?” Shauna asks irritably, shifting the newspaper to one hand as she looks down at you.

You grin up at her, unperturbed. It shouldn’t be funny—someone here is trying to become you—but Shauna’s familiar moodiness breaks through any tension you felt. You barely give her order more than a thought as you go to say something else, only to be interrupted as Shauna shoves a pillow over your face. There’s not enough pressure to actually do anything, but the meaning behind it is obvious enough.

Shauna unfolds the newspaper again, the sound of paper moving against one another loud enough to draw your attention even with your lack of sight. Jackie lifts up the corner of the pillow, squinting down at you as she holds one finger over her lips playfully. You roll your eyes.

“This is—” Shauna says suddenly.

“Uh huh,” Jackie confirms.

“Did you—”

“Nuh-uh.”

Shauna pulls the pillow off your face, leaving you blinking rapidly at the sudden light returning to your eyes. “Did you kill him?” Shauna asks. She doesn’t sound upset, exactly, but there’s a look of jealousy on her face that makes you wish you had done it. Her eyes flick back to the photo again, like she’s genuinely annoyed she hadn’t thought to kill them first.

“No, Shauna. You still haven’t told me who died,” you say.

“One of Jackie’s professors,” Shauna says absently, going back to scanning the paper.

You eye Jackie suspiciously.

“I did not!” Jackie insists, slapping your shoulder in reproach. 

She flops down on her back next to you, covering her face with her hands before peeking through her fingers. 

“I believe you,” you say solemnly. “You never would have killed him so sloppily.”

Jackie snorts, her cheeks flushing beneath her hands at the sound. “Amateur hour,” she agrees. “Definitely wasn’t one of us. Not close enough to my birthday for a present.”

You must have feigned an appropriate amount of contriteness. Jackie’s head rests suddenly on your shoulders as she shifts up onto her side and throws an arm around you.

“Do you think that I pass automatically if my professor gets murdered?” Jackie questions in a conspiratorial whisper.

“No, Jax. You still have to write your essay,” Shauna says flatly without even looking in your direction.

“The system is rigged,” Jackie complains.

You consider it for a while as Shauna reads and rereads the paper above you. “Probably not,” you murmur, mirroring Jackie’s pout as you turn your head toward her. 

Jackie leans forward to kiss your pout away. “Sucker,” she murmurs against your lips.

You should be more concerned about this, but you’re sure it’s probably just a one-off. Some college student on the verge of failing gets revenge on his professor, copying a series of fairly local murders. Open and shut case, really. You remember the kind of attention the murders got fairly well, considering. It seems simple enough that someone else had been a little too interested in the media coverage and decided to imitate it when they needed it.

“Maybe.”

“Definitely,” Shauna interjects, finally folding the newspaper up and tossing it in the vague direction of the floor.

Jackie, finally satisfied that the two of you aren’t overly concerned with the implications of the murder—or perhaps assuaged that you hadn’t gone out without her—gives Shauna an appreciative look as she relaxes next to you. She laces her fingers with yours as she leads your hand further up Shauna’s thigh.

Shauna’s breath hitches at the touch, tension seemingly forgotten as your fingers brush the seam of her jeans.

Right.

What murder?

[otomes-world]

Feel free to skip cursive text. A short drabble without any pretensions to something more and a possible continuation purely because I wanted to return to the "roots" and write something with a yandere tag. Often I catch myself thinking (hi Rook), that in the end I can't decide whether this or that fanfic of mine is yandere or normal one. I leave it to decide in the end, but it doesn't work that way (hi Rook). Feel free to imagine any character but I'll add in tags who would fit more

Perhaps you're not the most attentive person. You can notice some little thing in the text or in life that someone, ordinary, would ignore or not attach importance to. For some reason, when it came to the plane of one person's relationship with other people, everything stopped working as intended.

More than once, having analyzed your flights and mistakes, you were convinced that there was nothing "otherworldly" in your behavior, there was really nothing there. In communication with someone, you tried to either hint or directly talk about your opinion about relationship with someone. Banally did not want it, did not think, "why rush" and a simple lack of interest. You were always extremely honest, believing that at the slightest hint of encroachment in your direction it was worth gently, but without hidden meaning, to put the person in their place.

For some reason, in the new world, things that should not have changed did not work. Should you reduce everything to an interworld mentality? Did such a concept even exist?

Conversations that did not go beyond the scheme: hello, how are you, goodbye. A nod or a wave when seeing each other in the distance of the corridor. Maybe sit on the nearby desks in the same lessons. Much to your frustration there always was someone who thought that you were "playing hard to get". To make this work, you need to have at least some semblance of feelings for the person and have an established opinion. Should we reduce everything to the banal pride of a magician, if such a concept, again, existed?

You were mentally choosing between two options: continue to ignore or approach first, trying to sort things out. The first meant openly playing the role of an uncomprehending cookie, a tree, if you will. Not noticing lingering glances, messages in the chat with "Good day to you, how are you?", a desire to help visible to the naked eye. Pretend that an invitation to spend some time together or work on school project was simple politeness. Think that all the efforts made were nothing more than a whim of a bored soul and if anyone were in your place, nothing would change.

Or act cruelly, but honestly. Dot all the "i's", break the heart before the ephemeral feeling and hope for more, which you could not give, finally take hold in it.

The conversation did not go as planned. He went into the steppe, which, in your subjective opinion, could only happen in a tooth-grinding romantic teenage rom-com. Under no circumstances in life.

"I know you don't feel the same way I do. Yet"

Yet, he said yet. When you were trying to be a sensible piece of society. When you were trying to take the problem seriously. All your efforts to get along and end things of no use to anyone. So you really decided to ignore the hints. Since it didn't work out to end things on a good note, you also would play unfairly.

The new conditions didn't bother him in slightest. On the contrary, it seemed that he was genuinely amused by your irritation and slight dislike for his self-confidence, you would simplify arrogance. Nothing serious, just a series of emotions caused by resentment.

The gestures became more noticeable. The glances that followed your figure were replaced by touches that lingered for seconds longer to pass an object. Speaking of them, why were you always missing some little thing like a pencil or a textbook, when you were exactly, 100%, sure that you had put everything in your bag. He was always there and was always the only one willing to lend you the item you needed so generously.

Instead of invitations came gifts and flowers. Flowers, such a hated word lately. When you turned him back with the roses, he assumed it was because of their bright crimson color. When it turned out that pink, yellow, and somehow purple inflorescences did not cause the desired reaction, other types were used. Chrysanthemums. Lilies. Daisies. Cornflowers. Succulents. It seemed that when all the known worlds of flora ran out, he would simply go around for the second round.

And so it happened, because a bouquet of only one blue rose was waiting on your porch. If he was going to use language of flowers, you would start climbing the walls from frustration.

Naturally, flowers were not the only way to show attention. Sweets, jewelry, hobby items. How did he even know that you liked to do this in your free time? When you returned one or another box, you received two of the same kind the next day. If this was his way of making you accept his gifts, he succeeded.

There was too much of him everywhere at once. Opening a door. Offering a hand. A bunch of all sorts of advice from the book "1000 and 1 ways to woo the object of adoration." He made your life a kind of hell, when everyone around you assumed you were a couple in advance. When everyone around you was genuinely worried about his relationship, as if they were their own. As if they were watching a TV series where you were the very character that made everything stretch out into millions of episodes and seasons.

If you had never felt anything for him before, now you were overwhelmed with absolutely different kinds of emotions. It would be a lie to say that there was at least one positive one among them.

You can be understood, really, but on his part this was a small victory.

[piss-pumpkin]

🌼Proof of existence🥝

Douce amere epilogue, (older)Dipper pines x reader, ~4.2k words masterlist Prev

One year. One full year. You swallowed hard as you drove the streets of Piedmont. It wasn’t like you hadn’t heard from him, or talked to him, but like… a full year. It felt like a long time, even though it wasn’t. Last summer could’ve been a lifetime ago. And last summer had a lifetimes worth of memories. 

Your old cheap car shuddered at each pothole, and you pursed your lips. The car wasn’t what you worried about. Just chill, you told your heart rate. It refused to listen, and kept high and thundering. Whatever. He’s still your boyfriend. Even though it’s been a full year. Ugh. 

And you had plenty of time to catch up on everything that didn’t make it into messages and text on the road trip. Normally, Piedmont to Gravity falls was a day trip. A handful of hours, not too bad, but annoying for a bus. But nowadays, you actually had a car and a license. 

It really worked out in your favor. Your school ended a couple weeks before the twins, so you had time to hangout with friends, take a trip down and around, and eventually end up in Piedmont to pick him up. And the final destination was the mystery shack. All you had to do was grab him and go. And make some stupid stops along the way.

The conditions of your ‘new driver’ license were weird though. Legally, you could only have one non family passenger. As much as you ignored that rule with friends back home, crossing state borders and big cities breaking the law seemed like tempting fate. So you could only take one twin. You weren’t entirely disappointed about that, though…

You pulled into the school parking lot, scanning the sign. This was their high school. You’d seen photos, but in real life it felt like the set of a movie. 

Your foot arched on the brake, and your hand glided to shift into park. Deep breaths. School wasn’t out yet, you were early. You had time to hype yourself up. As you shut the car off, you pulled out your phone to text him and say that you’re here.

Wanna come in actually? I’m just in history, He responded.

You blinked a few times, pursing your lips. Why, you typed and sent. Walking into his classroom randomly and interrupting things didn’t seem like a good idea. And in front of a whole class? Bad plans. You already were feeling weird just sitting in the parking lot, like a creep. 

He was typing. The three dots of the messages popped as you waited, feet on the dash. So I can prove you exist long story, he sent. 

You stared at the phone a moment. That seemed dumb. Dipper must have realized that was ominous, because he started to type again. 

We didn’t even have a lesson today cuz it’s the end of the year you’re fine to come in we’re just hanging out. 

You sighed. Will it be awkward? You asked. 

He typed for a moment, then stopped. Then started again, and said no. 

Ugh. To proof you exist? What did that even mean? Ugh. Fine, you sent, hopping out of the car and locking it behind you. Do I need to like check in at an office or something to go in?

No just you can just walk up, he sent.

Your brow crinkled. Fr? You asked. That seemed… somewhat weird if anyone could just walk in. Even if you were a teenager and seemed like you were in the right place. 

Dipper was typing, It’s not a great school.

Fine, whatever. You started for the door. Around the school was far from empty, despite the fact that class was supposedly still on. People sat around on benches, or just the ground chit chatting. A bunch of them had yearbooks to look through and sign. 

You looked at your phone to avoid making awkward eye contact with any of them. What’s the room? You asked Dipper. 

He gave back a number and said it was on the second floor. The only problem was, this school was massive. Stepping inside the main door to the foyer, it alone was huge. It led and tapered off into a cafeteria on one side, and in the centre was two stairways that led to a balcony, more stairs, and halls on the second floor. 

You frowned, and started to type as you scanned the room, Dipper you shitbag more specific direct- then you saw somebody sitting alone. Everyone else was dispersed around in groups, so a loner seemed the most approachable. 

“Um, hi,” you started, doing a little wave as they looked up from their phone. “Could you direct me to room,” you checked Dippers text, “twenty-two oh-four?”

Their long brown hair parted as they stood up and nodded, “I’ll take you, I have to grab my stuff there anyway.” A mask was covering the bottom half of their face, but their eyes seemed friendly enough. 

They started for the stairs, and you followed behind as they navigated around the people. As you passed classrooms with windows facing in, you saw so few people actually doing lessons. You smiled as you looked in. Summer break was literally ten minutes away, everyone knew it. You were so close to getting back to Gravity Falls. 

“You don’t go here, right?” The person leading you asked, glancing back at you. 

You laughed nervously, “uh, no,” you said, shaking your head. “Just picking somebody up.”

They nodded along, “Okay, for a second I thought I was really stupid and just never noticed you.”

You fought the urge to make some joke like how could anyone not notice me. That would be super awkward with somebody you don’t know.

”But like how could anyone not,” they laughed, turning back to you for a moment. “Like, in a good way, I love your fit.”

Oh wow, that’s literally what you were just thinking. They must be psychic. “Uh, thanks,” you smiled, “you too, and I love the hair,” you said, pulling a strand of your own hair for emphasis. 

You followed them to a classroom, and just through the windows you could see him. Dippers back was turned to you as he sat on a desk and chatted with some people, Wendy’s hat resting on his head. Probably with friends. You swallowed. It was weird seeing him with friends you didn’t know, now that you thought about it. The closer you stepped to the door the more it felt like worlds colliding, that you were just for summer, and don’t belong with his year-round friends. 

“You know him?” Your guide asked, brow raised. You could almost hear a slight twinge of distain in their voice.

Shit. Your head whipped back away from the windows. They must have caught you staring. You stepped half a pace back as you laughed, “uh yeah, my,” you hesitated. Why hesitate? It’s true? “Boyfriend… the guy with the hat.”

”Oh,” they said quickly, brow still raised. The mask hid half their expression, the reaction was hard to gauge. “What’s your, uh, name?” They asked casually, pointing at you. 

You swallowed. This was weird right? “Y/n,” you said.

They smiled. Or at least looked like they did, with their eyes. “Well, that explains it,” they said. They must have considered that bit of conversation over, because they started reaching for the door handle, leaving you standing there, a little confused. “And for the record, I always knew you were real,” they added, slight sigh in their tone. 

Again with that? Your guide opened the door, and slipped inside, offering you a little wave as they walked away while you hesitated. They seemed to know people, chatting and saying bye to a few people as they found a chair with a backpack under it. They seemed nice. If, a little weird. 

Sighing, you twiddled your fingers trying to work up the courage. He’d mentioned the names of his and Mabel’s friends, but you hadn’t really seen faces. You’d only been in school a few weeks prior, but seeing the classroom you felt like an alien. A whole other school. The slight differences made all the difference. It was a whole other world, and weird to think that other people had their whole lives here, the same way you had yours back home. 

Deep breaths. Be cool. You pushed open the door, and tried not to look awkward as you made your way through the classroom. Relax, you told yourself. But still, the creeping feeling that this was a world you weren’t a part buried itself in your spine. Somehow, weird monsters in the woods seemed less scary than your boyfriends friends. 

You pursed your lips, and came up beside him, playfully hitting him in the arm in between sentences he was trading with friends. Trying not to be awkward. Or interrupt.

Dipper turned towards you, and his face lit up. It was almost enough to calm any nerve that you might have. He grinned, taking your hand, and his friends took the hint to pause the conversation. Or maybe his friends could tell Dipper was focused on something else now. That made you feel a little better. “Oh man, I can’t believe you’re here,” he laughed. 

His friend snickered, “yeah neither can I,” he muttered.

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you didn’t. Lucky for you, Dipper filled the gap. He scooted so his body was facing you, “okay, so,” he started, waving his free hand in the air for punctuation. “There’s just-“ he gestured his head at his friends- “a few people I want you to meet, then we can head out, yeah?”

“Uh, sure,” you said, glancing again at the people watching this interaction. Two boys and a girl looked at you, all with slight smiles you could only guess were formed in surprise. 

Dipper turned back to them, “this is Y/n,” he announced proudly. 

“Holy shit, it’s like meeting a celebrity,” one of boys laughed.

The other one hit him on the side as he giggled, “Like Miku.”

The girl chimed in next, “Or Jesus,” she snickered under her breath.

They giggled while Dipper shook his head. One of them, a boy, looked at you with a lopsided smile. “I am… shocked that you’re here,” he said lightly, sounding friendly. 

“Uh,” you managed, glancing at Dipper.

Another friend glanced at Dipper, then back to you. She laughed lightly, “yeah, I can’t believe this,” she said. She turned to the last friend, “what do I owe you?”

You stood silently with lips pursed as they did, waiting for the conversation to be over. 

One rooted around in her backpack for a wallet, and they started to trade money. You awkwardly side eyed Dipper, and he seemed to take the hint. He hopped off the desk, “alright, we’re going,” he said waving as he turned around, “Bye guys.”

They waved bye to both of you. 

Dipper turned around way easier than you. Maybe you were still reeling from that interaction. Dipper laughed under his breath, and turned you around by the shoulders, and gestured at the door. Blinking, you shot him a look, glancing between him and his friends. A light blush dusted his cheeks, but he nodded. Maybe that meant he’d tell you later. 

You waved at the friends, and followed him out.

“See ya, Y/n,” the person with the mask said on your way out, with a little wave. 

You smiled, “See you!” 

Now it was Dippers turn to shoot you a look. He raised his brow, and glanced once between you and your… friend seemed like a stretch. Acquaintance. He did a double take between you and your newfound acquaintance. 

It was busier outside then when you walked in. Way more people were hanging out, waiting for buses or just standing around skipping class. You pursed your lips. That made it far more annoying to drive. 

“Okay so, Dip, what was that?” You asked, shaking your head as you made your way to the car. You fiddled with the keys in your hand as you walked. “Why am I apparently like Jesus?

Dipper sucked a breath in through his teeth and smiled, though it looked half pained. “okay so,” he started, “Nobody thought you were real.”

”What?”

He shook his head cheekily at the floor, “Well, I mentioned you once, and so they asked…” he looked up, as if to make sure you were still following the plot. He started animatedly taking with his hands. “And I accidental said you lived far away… and you know the whole ‘my girlfriend goes to another school’ lie people pull… so everyone just kinda… assumed.” Dipper was shaking his head, “because they suck.”

You paused before you unlocked the car door to take that in. Your head tilted to the side, “couldn’t Mabel just… tell them otherwise?”

Dipper winced. “Yeah, she sure could have,” he said wistfully.

You smiled, “but she didn’t?”

”Nope,” he added quickly.

You snickered as you slipped into the drivers seat, and Dipper the passengers. “And you didn’t just… I don’t know, show them pictures?”

Dipper sighed, rubbing his temples, “the answer to any question you might have is that Mabel sucks, trust me. I showed pictures once, and she convinced people they were AI generated.”

You shook your head. “Damn bro,” you said, pushing the key in the ignition. “For the whole year?”

He sighed, nodding.

You laughed, “How have you never mentioned this?” 

Dippers face fell into his hands as he groaned, “ugh, I don’t know,” he complained. “Embarrassing?”

You smiled, playfully hitting him across the chest, and holding your hand there a moment as he lifted his head. You started out of the parking lot, careful around the crowds of people walking around and laying very little attention to surrounding cars. “You totally would do that, though,” you snickered. “Lie about something like that.”

Dipper scoffed, “One, no I wouldn’t. Two, I don’t know why people think that, or why Mabel had such an easy time lying.”

You laughed as you escaped the parking lot. “Because it’s pretty easy to believe, to be honest. Like, in another life you totally would.” The open road ahead of you, and the easy conversation was lifting the weight off your shoulders. “In another bitchless life,” you giggled. 

Dipper groaned in disgust as you giggled. “Whatever,” he said, arms folded across his chest. “Now you have to tell me how you know Sal,” he questioned.

”Who? Also do we need to stop at your place to get your stuff?” 

“Yeah,” Dipper said, “Sal’s the one who said bye to you as you left.”

”Oh,” you blurted, “They showed me to your classroom, they seemed nice.”

Lucky for your gas tank, Dipper didn’t live far from school. You were already turning down the suburb streets, where all the houses looked very same-y, but one do them was his. You went slow as you scanned for his address. 

“They are nice,” Dipper confirmed, “But I got scared for a second, they do not like me. Remember when I said I had an ex that I totally screwed over?” He asked sheepishly, offering you a small smile. “Also I’m a few streets down, keep going.”

“Ooooh,” you said. “Yeah they were weird when I was looking at you,” you confessed. 

You caught up on the… somewhat small town drama. The way Dipper talked about Piedmont made it feel small, despite its population. Maybe a consequence of being Mabel’s brother was knowing everyone. 

The twins mom invited you in, made very lovely small talk. Unfortunate that Mabel was out with friends. But you’d see her again in a day or two. You were grinning at the thought. 

And you were gone, off into the somewhat known unknown when Dipper came back downstairs with his luggage. 

                                      …

The road to Gravity falls was a murder road. Winding, dark, covered in trees, and a villainous aura. It had gotten dark the more you drove, and the more stops you made along the way at the horrible tourist attractions that all had nothing on the mystery shack.

But you were tired, and Dipper couldn’t drive. So camp time it was. 

Oh perfect. You slowed down as you spotted a small concealed logging road in the dark. You pulled the car onto it, and drove carefully along the rocky ground and potholes. 

“Dude, this is a stupid idea,” Dipper said, wiping his eyes as he scanned the shadowed forest. 

You were scanning too. “Aha,” you exclaimed, your eyes settling on a little parking space-like nook off the road. “This is a spot,” you claimed, steering the car into it.

”no the fuck it is not.”

You grinned as you put the car in park, and shut it off, and unclipped your seatbelt. “Yes it is,” you argued, opening the door. 

The outside was warm, despite the late hour. Summer nights, you supposed. The trees were tall overhead, shadowing the dark blueish and starry sky. A light wind was blowing through, and the atmosphere might’ve been ominous and scary if this was Gravity Falls, but out side of its paranormal borders, it was peaceful. 

Dipper got out with you, and even in the dark you could feel his judgmental gaze from the other side of the car. “So now what?” He said, unimpressed. 

“Well, we brush our teeth, and set up camp,” you instructed, pointing at him over the car roof. Your eyes were adjusted enough to make out his deadpan face in the moonlight. 

He sighed, diving back into the passenger seat to Ricky through a bag. “Did you… bring camping stuff?” He asked, muffled by the car door. 

“I brought a car,” you offered. 

His sigh cut the light he forest air and you giggled. He shut the cat door again, this time with a water bottle and his tooth brush. Smiling, you grabbed your brush, plus the toothpaste. You tossed his the paste, and he tossed you the water.

The two of you brushed your teeth in the dark, spitting toothpaste as far out from the car as you felt like venturing. 

Dipper muttered with his toothbrush in his mouth, “we are so gonna die in the woods…”

”Are not,” you said, rinsing your mouth out. 

When you finished, it was camp time. You may not have had a tent, but you had blankets and your pillows. And extra clothes to pad it out. You smiled when you saw Dippers skeptical face through the dark. You popped the trunk, “boom, camping,” you declared. 

He sighed, “We’re dead, goners.”

But he still helped you oh the blankets down on the trunk floor, and pull the seats back to make it… somewhat more like a bed. 

                                        …

The car bed was expectedly not great. But wiggling around you were able to find a comfortable position, curling your legs at the back of the trunk. The windows were steamed from breath and body heat, and you and Dipper were inches apart in the close quarters. 

The surrounding woods were nearly dead silent. You should be thrilled. This is your boyfriend, who you haven’t seen in months. But instead you were… quiet. Maybe anxious. Almost too scared to reach out and touch him. But you mustered the courage. Timidly, you reached your hand out to grab his between you. 

“So,” you started. “Did I miss anything good during the school year?”

You couldn’t see it, but by his little exhale you could tell he smiled. “I think I told you everything interesting,” he said.

You twiddled your thumb around his hand. “Well, clearly not everything, finding out you made me up was new.”

He snickered, “Okay, I told you everything good besides that.”

You smiled, but fell into another silence. Not exactly an awkward one, it was hard to feel too awkward when you were that close, but it wasn’t exactly nice. Every once in a while the tree branches blew in the wind overhead, and what little you could see from the rear view mirror shifted around. You pursed your lips and looked down, though there was little point to that in the dark 

Dipper cut through the quiet. “I was actually kind of nervous to see you again,” he said awkwardly, stumbling over each syllable in that… usual way he does. “I thought it might be easier around my friends, but they… kind of suck.”

You smiled, nodding slightly. “Yeah… I was trying to hype myself up in the car.”

He snorted, “But your always hype.”

”Well… not always,” you said, nestling your head further into the pillow and blanket pile. “Is it really that different being back together?”

Dipper did the same, flipping a pillow over to the cold side, and scooting it the smallest bit closer to you. “I dunno,” he said. “It’s not usually any different.”

”Well, we don’t usually feel awkward and… stuff”

He laughed a little, lifting his hand to cover his mouth. “Speak for yourself… I always do,” he said. “At least with you, that is.”

Of course he did. You grinned. How he was this endearing, you weren’t sure. “Really?” You asked, smirk creeping into your lips. “Widdle ol’ me?”

”Ugh,” he groaned, probably rolling his eyes if you had to guess. “Yeah, widdle ol’ you. It uh, usually takes a couple days to get used to you again,” he admitted. “I don’t know, maybe it’s different now that we’re…” he trailed off. Of course he did. You could almost feel the heat from his blush. 

You smiled, and playfully punched him in the chest with your free hand, and then left it there to linger. More touch. “It’s been weird being long distance,” you said. “Maybe that makes it different. It’s been like, a year since we’ve even been in the same city.”

He nodded, “Yeah, a lot does change. You look kind of different from last summer, it doesn’t always show in the pictures, like-“ he paused, about to reach his hand out to you, you could see in the silhouette, but stopped. “Uh, you head,” he said, tapping his forehead for emphasis, “may I?”

You nodded.

He gently brushed the hair off your forehead, and ghosted his hand over your scar from last summer. “It’s different in person, it’s healed really well,” he said, fingers tracing its edges. You smiled as he did, feeing the callous on his fingertips on the parts that could still feel well. “It kind of looks like a star, actually,” he smiled, “We’re matching,” he said, tapping his own forehead.

Aw shit. A grin made its way onto your lips, and you felt a heat on your cheeks. “A star… and the Big Dipper?” 

He brushed some hair back to cover his birthmark. A star and a constellation. “Yeah, I think so.”

Sighing, you scotched closer to him to close the gap,  trying to keep the comfortable position you found. Closer, like you usually were. “Dip, I think that even if things are a little different, that’s fine as long as I still love you,” you smiled, then hastily added, “Which I somewhat obviously do, but I figured I’d specify in case that wasn’t clear.”

”I- also you that-“ he sputtered, wrapping an arm around you to hold you closer. 

You giggled, “yeah? You’re sticking by that one?”

“I guess so,” he snickered, resting his head against yours. He once against swept the hair from your face, and this time you smiled as his lips met the softer skin of the scar with a little kiss. 

You tried to suppress your grin, but it didn’t work. Fuck. He’s too sweet. You giggled some more, brushing your thumb against his jaw. “Good spot, but I have an improvement, get this,” you said, like you were selling a pitch. 

You utilized your hands to find his face, brushing over his lips with your thumb. Target located. Smiling, maybe still with butterflies, as juvenile as that felt, you brought your face up to his to kiss him. Somehow the first since reuniting. You could feel the smile on his lips as you did, and the small twitch of his fingers on your back where he held you.

First kiss of the new summer. Far from the last, if all went well.  Your mind almost laughed at you. When did things ever go well?

You giggled as he pulled you in for another kiss, and complained about the discomfort of the trunk. He was too tall to employ your strategy of curling into the trunk. 

Things always went well enough. Nobody died, and you had each other and the gang. And a car. You could think of literally nothing else you needed. Gravity Falls was a day away, and it seemed like your scar had healed. Matching stars. 

Next

I’m torn there a lot I wanna do with this fic like use other characters more, or pay off things I mentioned or set up earlier, or even just write random ass episode one shots. Or a backrooms horror story too Angsty to be canon. But I also wanna be done with this and it’s a complete story so I totally could be. I dunno.

Taglist: @phobo-ss @cipheress-to-k-pop @dead-esque

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Office Hours/Bells - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (Part 1)

Pairing: Professor!Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 12 640

Warnings: Obsessive behaviour, Professor x Student, mild body horror, fear gas, lowkey prey/predator kink (chasing), kidnapping

Summary: Y/n, a university student, forms an unexpected friendship with Professor Jonathan Crane. But are his intentions what he says they are?

A/N: This one accidentally became a bit of a slow-burn but hey! it is what is~ I didn't know which one to call this so I just did both 💀 My initial plan for this was just a short one, around 2k-3k words... guess that didn't work out. A lot of it may be repetitive, so apologies A/N: This one accidentally became a bit of a slow-burn but hey! it is what is~ I didn't know which one to call this so I just did both 💀 My initial plan for this was just a short one, around 2k-3k words... guess that didn't work out. A lot of it may be repetitive, so apologies (Office Hours/Bells Masterlist) - (Part 2)

-

Y/n entered the psychology lecture hall, the familiar scent of old textbooks and the low hum of whispered conversations enveloping her as she took her usual seat near the front. The lecture hall was spacious, rows of worn-out seats filled with few students, as most dropped the class within the first week, due to the Professors harsh attitude. As she settled in, her eyes wandered to the front of the room, where Professor Crane's desk stood. He usually entered on the dot so it wasn’t strange to see his desk empty. 

The sound of the office door's wide swing echoed through the hall, Professor Crane walking in, his presence evoked a collective hush in the lecture room. As if choreographed, he navigated the room with an air of precision, placing his meticulously organized files and papers onto the desk.

Professor Crane wasted no time, setting the tone for the day's lesson. It became immediately apparent to every student that patience was not a virtue Professor Crane indulged in. The swift, deliberate motion of his hand grabbed a piece of chalk, and with a decisive sweep, he began writing the day's lesson on the board.

-

As the lesson drew to a close, marking the end of another lengthy lecture, Y/n found herself grappling with the weight of the information presented. Despite her best efforts to remain focused, the sheer volume of content in today's lesson proved to be a challenge for her to fully absorb. The struggle to grasp the concept left her feeling both mentally fatigued, yearning for a moment of rest.

“If there’s any trouble, my office hours are available for help,” Professor Crane finished, as the students left. 

Despite being aware of the option to attend Professor Crane's office hours, Y/n hesitated, daunted by the intimidating presence of the man. The memory of him calling on classmates during class, casually degrading them when they struggled to grasp concepts, lingered in her mind. The thought of engaging in a one-on-one conversation with him only stirred up anxiety. Opting against visiting Professor Crane's office, Y/n retreated to her dorm. 

-

Back in her dorm, Y/n sank into her desk chair, frustration evident on her face. The psychology book lay open before her, its pages a source of bewilderment. Despite her earnest attempts to comprehend the material covered in class, the concept continued to slip through her grasp. With a sigh of exasperation, she tossed her pen onto the desk, leaning back into her chair.

The struggle was real, and Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of being lost in a sea of incomprehension. Even reaching out to fellow classmates had proven futile, as they too found themselves in the dark. The weight of confusion hung heavy in the air, leaving Y/n grappling with the unsettling realization that she may have to push her anxieties away for help.

Glancing at her class calander she made at the beginning of the year, Y/n noticed that Professor Crane had office hours scheduled a couple of hours before tomorrows class. A moment of contemplation ensued, marked by the rhythmic bouncing of her leg. Eventually, she reasoned that giving it a shot couldn't hurt. After all, even if Professor Crane were to belittle her, at least there wouldn't be an audience to witness any potential humiliation.

-

The following morning, Y/n gathered her books and essentials, preparing for another day at the university. As she stepped onto the campus, her destination clear, she headed towards Professor Crane's office. Each step felt burdened, her legs heavy with nervousness that clung to her as she approached the looming encounter.

Standing in front of Professor Crane's office door, Y/n took a shaky breath before knocking. The response came swiftly, "Come in," in Professor Crane's authoritative voice.

Twisting the handle, she entered the room. Professor Crane, engrossed in some papers, looked up as she stepped in. Y/n found herself at a loss for words, her shyness momentarily stifling her thoughts.

Breaking the silence, Professor Crane inquired, "Can I help you with something?"

Caught off guard, Y/n stammered, "Uh, yes, sorry. I was, umm, trying to go over the things we learned yesterday, but I had trouble trying to grasp the concept. I was wondering if you could help me go over it?"

Jonathan regarded her for a moment before gesturing towards the seat opposite him, a silent invitation for her to sit. Y/n promptly took the seat, positioning herself across from him.

Y/n looked around the room, taking in the surroundings. Bookshelves adorned with a myriad of psychology titles graced the walls, that offer a visual journey through the expansive world of the mind. Disheveled piles of papers and folders, likely files from Arkham, added an air of mystery to the atmosphere. The walls were adorned with various academic accolades and framed degrees. The inviting couch, a standard feature in university offices, seemed strangely pristine and untouched.

"Do you have anything for me to look at? Anything specific?" Jonathan inquired, shifting his papers to make room for her.

Nodding, Y/n retrieved her textbook and a few of her own papers. As she handed them over, Professor Crane asked, "What part did you not understand?" The question, though genuine, had a way of making her feel a bit foolish, and a sudden warmth crept into her face.

"Well...I had trouble with the start of it so...I didn’t understand...any of it," Y/n admitted, a tinge of embarrassment coloring her words.

Avoiding eye contact with her professor, Y/n couldn't help but feel small in his presence. She felt like a complete idiot.

"Well..." Crane sighed, surprising Y/n with a comment that sounded unexpectedly friendly. "Looks like we got a lot of work ahead of us."

Despite the friendly remark, Y/n remained on edge. Professor Crane pulled the book closer, running his pen tip over the first couple of sentences. Reading them aloud, he delved into more depth, echoing the teaching style she was familiar with from his lectures.

Y/n clung to his words, processing and understanding the material more with each passing moment. Her notebook lay open beside her, writing brief notes that she intended to expand upon during her own time. To her surprise, Professor Crane exhibited an unexpected gentleness and patience, allowing her the space to ask questions and guiding her through the material at a measured pace.

In this one-on-one session, Y/n found herself gaining more information that surpassed what she could have achieved on her own. The personalized attention and the chance to delve deeper into the subject with Professor Crane were proving invaluable to her comprehension of the challenging concepts.

"Has that helped?" Professor Crane inquired, reclining in his chair.

"Yes, thank you. This makes so much sense now," Y/n replied, unable to contain her smile.

"Glad I could help," Professor Crane acknowledged. "Thanks for coming in; don't hesitate so much next time," he added.

Y/n couldn't help but be pleasantly surprised by Professor Crane's kindness throughout the entire session. The encounter left her with a newfound appreciation for his approachability and willingness to assist.

Y/n finally looked up at him properly, meeting his gaze for the first time in that half-hour. She was taken aback, realizing the striking blue hue of his eyes, a detail she had never noticed before as she avoided looking at him in lectures, hoping he wouldn’t call on her.

Quickly averting her gaze, she began packing away all her materials. "Thank you again, sir," Y/n expressed, her smile lingering.

"Feel free to come back after today's lesson too if you're having trouble," he suggested, offering her a slight smile in return.

The unexpected kindness from Professor Crane left Y/n pleasantly surprised. "I will, sir. Thank you," she replied before leaving the office, carrying with her a newfound appreciation for the approachability and support she hadn't anticipated.

With a newfound sense of confidence, Y/n practically skipped her way to the library to finalize her notes. The weight that had initially clung to the prospect of talking to Professor Crane had lifted, and she discovered that he wasn't as intimidating as she had initially thought.

-

As class approached, Y/n felt a wave of optimism about the upcoming lesson, knowing she now had the option to seek more help later. The prospect of understanding the material became less daunting.

When Professor Crane entered the class, the usual hush fell over the room. Unfazed, he seamlessly resumed his routine, initiating the lesson with his familiar writing on the board. The air was charged with anticipation, and Y/n felt a renewed sense of readiness to tackle the subject matter with the newfound support at her disposal.

Not even 10 minutes into the class, Y/n watched as Professor Crane once again questioned a student's intelligence, a sharp contrast to the kindness she had experienced earlier. It caught her off guard — his demeanor seemed to shift dramatically when addressing individuals in front of the class. She wondered if he found enjoyment in embarrassing people publicly or if there was another motive behind his approach. Y/n instinctively shrank back into her seat, hoping not to be the next target.

-

As the lesson concluded, Y/n made a quick move toward the door, only to find herself intercepted by Professor Crane stepping in front of her.

"Understand today's lesson?" he inquired, hands clasped behind his back. His slight smile surprised her, considering the belittlement she had witnessed throughout the class.

"Yeah, I think I got it," Y/n responded quickly.

The Professor nodded. "Alright, just don't be scared to ask for help," he advised before strolling back to his office. Y/n stood there, grappling with the unexpected duality of Professor Crane's demeanor, thankful for the support she had received earlier but still perplexed by the contrasting experiences in the classroom.

-

Regrettably for Y/n, the intricacies of today's lesson eluded her, slipping through the gaps in her understanding during the last 10 minutes of class. Her meticulous note-taking proved insufficient, she clearly didn’t get the last part of the lesson. The idea of seeking help at Professor Crane's office hours lingered, but a sense of unease settled in after the day's earlier interactions.

The peculiar contrast in Professor Crane's treatment of her versus the rest of the class left Y/n feeling unsettled. Was he kinder to those who sought help, or was there a different dynamic at play? It remained uncertain, casting a shadow over the prospect of returning for assistance.

Yet, the urgency of understanding the material prevailed over any reservations. Realizing the potential consequences for future lessons, Y/n knew she would have to get help. Y/n considered asking another classmate again, but preferred the way in which Professor Crane was indepth and had more to offer. She acknowledged the necessity of visiting Professor Crane's office hours the next day, and it didn’t feel as daunting as it did the day before.

-

Approaching Professor Crane's office for the second time, Y/n hesitated for a brief moment before knocking on the door. 

"Come in," Professor Crane's voice called out.

Y/n opened the door, offering a tight-lipped smile as she entered. "Thought you'd come back," Professor Crane remarked, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back in his chair.

Taking the now familiar seat across from him, Y/n observed as he pushed aside his work to focus on her. Placing her books on the table, she turned to the last page of the chapter, the faint rustle of paper filling the room.

"It was just the end bit that I kinda lost track of," Y/n admitted, her voice portraying a hint of uncertainty.

“This should be a lot quicker than yesterday, then,” the Professor smiled, joking lightly.

Leaning over the book, Professor Crane again took her through the paragraphs slowly, picking them apart one by one, making sure she understood each thing he said.

As she attempted to maintain focus, the alluring scent of Professor Crane's cologne began to weave its way into her senses, creating a subtle distraction. The close proximity, both of them leaning over the desk to study the book, allowed the fragrance to unfold in intricate layers. The cologne, not noticeable the day before or perhaps just more subdued, now revealed itself with greater prominence.

The scent was strong, but not unpleasant. The fragrance enveloping him carried a sophisticated blend of notes that gracefully danced in the air. A distinct combination of musky undertones and woody accents created an aura of timeless masculinity. As he moved, subtle hints of citrus and spice gently emerged, adding a layer of complexity to the scent. 

"Y/n? Did you get that?" Professor Crane's voice pulled her back to reality.

Y/n shook her head, attempting to refocus. "Oh, sorry, could you repeat that last part?" she squinted, her face warming with embarrassment.

Professor Crane patiently reiterated the information, ensuring she grasped it this time. Internally, Y/n chastised herself, questioning how she could be so easily distracted by a man's cologne.

"You want to write that down?" he suggested, studying her expression.

"It might take a while..." Y/n admitted, well aware of her heightened distraction today.

"That's fine; we have all the time in the world," Professor Crane assured, leaning back in his chair.

"But another student might need help," Y/n hesitated, considering the potential impact on others.

"That's not a problem. No one comes to office hours. Just you," Professor Crane revealed, a statement that slightly shocked Y/n. She had assumed his intimidating demeanor might keep some students away, but the revelation that she was the only one who sought assistance caught her off guard. "O-oh," she stammered in response.

Y/n focused on her notebook, diligently transcribing the information provided by Professor Crane. As she carefully jotted down the details he emphasized, she couldn't shake the feeling of being exposed, a vulnerability that crept in unnoticed.

Glancing up, she caught Professor Crane looking directly at her. Despite the file in his hands, his gaze remained fixed on her. The realization left Y/n feeling a bit uneasy, unsure of why she suddenly felt so exposed under his scrutiny. Opting to dismiss the discomfort, she decided to concentrate on her writing, pushing the unease to the back of her mind and assuming it was just a fleeting moment of self-consciousness.

Having finished writing her notes, Y/n placed her pen down and looked back up at her professor. As he set his file aside, he directed his attention to her notebook. "Finished?" he inquired.

Y/n nodded in confirmation.

"Any more questions about yesterday's lesson?" Professor Crane asked.

She shook her head, indicating her understanding.

"Well, I suppose you're free to go then," Professor Crane remarked. Y/n began packing her belongings when, unexpectedly, he continued, "Unless... would you like me to teach you today's lesson?" The offer hung in the air, leaving Y/n momentarily surprised by the unexpected opportunity for additional guidance.

"But... office hours end in like half an hour," Y/n pointed at the clock, expressing her concern.

"They're my office hours; I can change them however I want," Professor Crane replied, his words softened by the friendly smile adorning his face.

"Are you sure you want to waste your time teaching me? I'll just hear it in a couple of hours anyway," Y/n expressed her uncertainty.

"I'd like to teach you; no one's more eager to learn than you are, my Dear. I insist," Professor Crane insisted, the endearment slipping into his words. Y/n almost missed it, caught off guard by the unexpected warmth in her professor's tone. It was a side of him she hadn't anticipated, and the kindness he displayed left her pleasantly surprised.

Y/n sighed with a mix of relief and gratitude. "You're too kind, sir. Thank you," she expressed, recognizing this as a valuable opportunity to get ahead in the class.

"Don't need to thank me, Dear," Professor Crane replied, a slight smile playing on his lips as he again tested the newfound name.

As she retrieved her books, Professor Crane opened them to the latest chapter. Patiently, he guided her through each part, allowing her the time she needed to take thorough notes. Engrossed in the material, Y/n's awareness was focused on the subject at hand, and she failed to notice Professor Crane's not so subtle staring for the second time.

Unbeknownst to her, he watched as her hair gracefully sat behind her ear and took note of the delicate way her fingers held the pen. The Professor's attentive gaze added an unexpected layer to the lesson, one that went beyond the academic content and into the realm of unspoken dynamics between student and teacher.

Y/n looked back up at Professor Crane, anticipation in her gaze as she awaited the next part of the lesson. As the professor spoke, Y/n found herself gazing up at him, absorbing only fragments of his words. Amid the intricate details of the lesson, her thoughts drifted to a deep appreciation for the professor and the invaluable assistance he was providing.

Glad she had returned to his office hours, Y/n reflected on the decision to have him teach her this lesson. The material was notably more information-heavy than previous lessons, and she couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude. Without this one-on-one guidance, the complexity of the subject matter would have left her utterly lost in the classroom setting.

Professor Crane skillfully condensed what could have been a two-hour lesson into just over an hour. The efficiency of the session left Y/n feeling remarkably more confident in her understanding of Psychology.

"Thank you so much, Professor," Y/n expressed her gratitude with a genuine smile.

"Don't have to keep thanking me, Dear. Just doing my job," Professor Crane replied, returning her smile with a warmth that surpassed the formalities of a typical teacher-student interaction.

Checking the clock, Y/n realized class would commence in 20 minutes. "I should head off to give you time to prepare," she suggested, preparing to rise from her seat.

Professor Crane, however, suggested otherwise. "You might as well just wait here. You won't get in the way."

Unsure, Y/n hesitated before asking, "You sure you don't want a break before teaching? You're probably tired of me."

"Not at all... I could use the company," he reassured, his smile indicating a genuine desire for her presence rather than any sense of obligation.

Y/n couldn't help but smile. "Feeling lonely?" she teased, a newfound comfort allowing her to engage in a more playful manner.

"You could say that," Professor Crane replied, meeting her teasing with a genuine smile.

Reclaiming her seat and settling in, Y/n sought to initiate a conversation. "So... not many students come to your office hours?" she inquired, curious about the dynamics of student-teacher interactions.

"None... you're the first to come," Professor Crane admitted.

"Oh..." Y/n's realization set in. When he mentioned earlier that no one attended, she assumed it might be an exaggeration. Now, it became evident that she was indeed the sole student seeking assistance during his office hours. 

Y/n had an realization; perhaps the reason Professor Crane treated her so nicely was that she was the only student attending his office hours. It occurred to her that he might genuinely appreciate her active approach to seeking help, recognizing her passion for the subject.

"I guess the other students are just too intimidated, or don't care," Professor Crane mused, his words carrying a subtle tone that hinted at his sentiments towards the rest of the students.

She sensed a certain disappointment in his words, an unspoken judgment on the other students who, for various reasons, didn't take advantage of the opportunity to seek additional guidance. The realization left Y/n feeling a mix of gratitude for the personalized attention she received and a touch of sympathy for the potential missed opportunities by her peers.

"Gee, you think very little of them, don't you?" Y/n quipped, her tone half-joking. It was her subtle way of delving into why Professor Crane sometimes treated the class so harshly.

She recognized that she might be overstepping, but a genuine curiosity about the man behind the professor prompted her to seek more insight.

"The class is full of imbeciles. They don't know a thing about psychology. The lot of them couldn't tell a psychopath from a sociopath," Crane vented, a hint of frustration in his words.

"Hey, they're not all idiots," Y/n tried to offer a more different perspective.

"You haven't read their papers," Crane rolled his eyes, a touch of exasperation evident in his response. The exchange revealed a layer of dissatisfaction with his students' grasp of the subject, providing Y/n with a glimpse into the source of his occasional sternness in class.

Though Y/n recognized the impossibility of psychoanalyzing her professor, curiosity had taken a firm hold, compelling her to want to understand more about the man behind the lectern. The enigma of Professor Crane's demeanor and his candid assessments of the students intrigued her, prompting a desire to unravel the complexities that lay beneath the surface.

"Well... what about my papers?" Y/n inquired, a mix of anticipation and curiosity evident in her expression. She was eager to hear how Professor Crane would describe her work.

His gaze intensified as he began, "It’s clear through your writing that you’re passionate about psychology. You beautifully discuss topics in a way that engages readers and sparks interest. Your ability to convey complex concepts with clarity and enthusiasm is truly commendable. It's evident that you not only possess a deep understanding of the subject matter but also a genuine passion for sharing that knowledge."

His words hung in the air, the intensity of his gaze holding a weight that went beyond mere academic assessment. Professor Crane's thoughtful analysis revealed not only an appreciation for Y/n's proficiency but also a recognition of the passion that fueled her exploration of psychology. It was a validation that made her feel proud of herself, creating a moment of mutual understanding and acknowledgment.

Y/n was taken aback, her eyes darting all around the room as her face warmed with disbelief. Praise of such magnitude was unfamiliar territory for her, and coming from Professor Crane, renowned for his exacting standards, it added an extra layer to her astonishment. "Gosh, my work couldn't have been that good, sir. You're too kind."

"You know I'm not kind just for the sake of it. I don't praise just any student's work, dear," Professor Crane responded, his expression serious, the weight of his words emphasizing the sincerity behind his commendation. The gravity of the moment lingered, leaving Y/n grappling with a mix of surprise and gratitude for the unexpected recognition of her efforts.

Y/n acknowledged that Professor Crane wasn't the type to dispense niceties without genuine merit, intensifying the authenticity of the moment. "I... I just don't know what to say," she confessed, her words laced with a mix of humility and gratitude.

"You don't have to say anything; just know that you're a brilliant student, and I'm glad to have you in my class," Professor Crane asserted, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, hands clasped together.

"Thank you," Y/n replied with a genuine smile, the warmth of the professor's acknowledgment lingering.

He nodded politely, reciprocating the smile. "So, what would you be doing right now if you weren't here with me?" he asked, a subtle inquiry into her interests without directly posing the question.

Indulging the curiosity, Y/n shared, "Usually, I'd be back at my dorm studying or maybe out with friends."

"Are these of yours friends taking different courses? It's just that I never see you sitting with anyone in class that much," Professor Crane probed further, expressing unexpected interest in the dynamics of her social circle.

She hadn't anticipated his curiosity about her friends. "Yeah, most of them are taking things like English Literature, History, Biochem," Y/n answered, providing a glimpse into the diverse corses her friend were taking.

"I see... and are all of them…just friends?" Professor Crane asked, his gaze intense, as if searching for something beyond the words.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, a touch of confusion coloring her expression. "I'm not sure I understand the question," she admitted.

"Are you seeing anyone?" he asked, taking the conversation into unexpected territory. It caught her off guard. Why was he interested? What prompted such a personal question? Despite her surprise, Y/n chose to keep the conversation flowing, steering clear of awkwardness. "No, I'm not," she answered. Professor Crane nodded, his focus unwavering.

Feeling a degree of boldness, Y/n decided to reciprocate, nervously asking, "How about you? Any wife or anything?" There was a hesitancy in her voice, a fear of overstepping.

"Nope... just me," Professor Crane replied, his tone casual yet offering little insight into his personal life.

Wanting to explore a topic outside the realm of teaching and relationships, Y/n sought a new avenue of conversation. "So you're also a Doctor at Arkham. What's that like?" she inquired.

Professor Crane sighed, a subtle chuckle escaping him. "Every day's a new challenge. I do enjoy my work there, but the patients can be a handful sometimes," he shared, offering a glimpse into the complexities of his dual roles as a professor and a practitioner at Arkham.

"From all the news, it sure sounds like a lot," Y/n remarked, sharing a laugh at the intriguing tales surrounding Arkham Asylum.

"You could come see it for yourself if you'd like. I can take you," Professor Crane offered, extending an unexpected invitation that caught Y/n off guard.

"W-wow, really?" Y/n's eyes widened with excitement. The prospect of exploring the infamous Arkham Asylum, even with it’s poor repetuation, was a dream come true.

"Of course, it would be a good learning experience," Professor Crane affirmed, his smirk hinting at a certain familiarity with the inner workings of the institution.

"Are you sure it's allowed?" Y/n inquired cautiously.

"I'm pretty high up in that place, so I can pull a couple of strings," he responded with a confident smirk, revealing a hint of his influence.

After a quick glace at the clock, Professor Crane rose from his seat. "People should be coming in right about now."

Looking at the time herself, Y/n gathered her belongings and prepared to leave. "We can talk more later about showing you Arkham if you'd like," Professor Crane suggested, holding the door open.

"That sounds perfect. Thank you, Professor," Y/n expressed her gratitude, making her way to the door.

"Talk to you after class, then," he said, smiling at her before returning to his desk.

Walking out of his office, Y/n couldn't fathom the extraordinary opportunity that had just presented itself, and the thought that such an experience might await her left her both thrilled and intrigued.

-

The class came to a close, and Y/n eagerly approached Professor Crane, who had already neatly packed his things, a shared smile bridging the distance between them. 

"Let's talk about Arkham, then," Professor Crane suggested, leading the way to his office, Y/n following in tow.

"Do you have any lectures tomorrow?" Professor Crane inquired, his voice carrying an air of anticipation.

"Not tomorrow, no," Y/n responded.

"Then that sounds like the perfect time for me to take you," Professor Crane declared, a warm smile playing on his lips.

The reality of the situation began to sink in for Y/n. It was happening — the chance to explore the mysterious Arkham Asylum with Professor Crane as her guide. The thrill of the unexpected adventure filled her with a sense of wonder and disbelief.

"Oh my god, thank you so much, sir. This means so much to me," Y/n exclaimed, genuine gratitude painting her expression.

"You deserve it," Professor Crane replied, his assurance carrying a sense of sincerity.

"So umm... how will we go about this?" Y/n asked, eager to plan the logistics of the upcoming adventure.

"I'm assuming you stay at the university dorms?" Professor Crane inquired.

"I am, yes," Y/n confirmed.

"I suppose it would be easiest for me to pick you up from there. I can come get you at 8, if that works for you," Professor Crane suggested, offering a practical solution.

"Of course," Y/n agreed, the excitement bubbling within her, the prospect of exploring Arkham Asylum with Professor Crane creating a sense of giddiness that was hard to contain.

"Perfect," Professor Crane remarked. "Now, I should let you get back to your dorm and get a good rest; tomorrow's gonna be a big day for you," he added with a confident smirk.

Y/n chuckled in agreement. "I could imagine. Thank you, sir. Goodbye."

Professor Crane nodded politely as she exited his office. Y/n practically floated back to her dorm, the anticipation building within her. Following his advice, she decided to rest for the remainder of the day. The excitement of visiting Arkham Asylum, coupled with the mysterious allure of the institution, fueled her imagination.

As night fell, sleep proved elusive for Y/n. Her mind buzzed with anticipation and curiosity about the impending visit. What would she discover within the walls of Arkham? The prospect of the unknown, guided by Professor Crane, fueled her restless excitement, and she could barely contain her anticipation for the extraordinary day that awaited her.

-

The rhythmic buzz of Y/n's alarm clock greeted the new morning, a herald of the exciting day that awaited her. Brimming with anticipation, she practically bounced out of bed, fueled by a burst of energy that could only be described as a cocktail of nervousness and exhilaration. The bathroom became a sanctuary for a swift but thorough morning routine, cleansing her senses and preparing her for the significant day ahead.

As she perused her wardrobe, each garment held the weight of consideration. Y/n recognized the importance of making a favorable impression, especially considering the potential encounters with the discerning doctors at Arkham Asylum. She chose an outfit that balanced professionalism with a touch of her own style, a subtle nod to the gravity of the impending visit.

A glance at the clock revealed that she was ahead of schedule. It was 7:48, and uncertainty lingered about Professor Crane's punctuality. She realised she had no way of telling when he would arrive. Determined not to keep him waiting, Y/n decided to head outside, leaving the dormitory corridors.

The university grounds welcomed her with a subdued ambiance, the early morning calm only disturbed by the distant hum of city life. Y/n found a spot on a sturdy bench at the front of the dorms. The atmosphere was draped in the typical Gotham gloom – a ceiling of gray clouds stretched endlessly above, holding the promise of impending rain. Yet, for now, the air bore only a biting chill, a forewarning of the unpredictable Gotham weather.

Seated on the bench, Y/n couldn't escape the palpable excitement that rippled through her. The visible breaths she exhaled added a tangible layer to the anticipation, creating wisps of mist in the frigid air. The quietude of the campus seemed to magnify the significance of the moment as she patiently awaited the arrival of Professor Crane, the orchestrator of this extraordinary excursion into the unknown.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/n was blissfully unaware of someone approaching until a familiar voice cut through her reverie. "Good morning, Y/n," Professor Crane greeted her, his presence catching her by surprise.

Looking up from the ground, Y/n beamed a warm smile at him. "Good morning, Professor," she responded instinctively, the habit of addressing him formally ingrained in her.

"We're outside of class, my Dear, you don't have to call me Professor. Just Jonathan is fine," he suggested, a rare invitation to familiarity that caught her off guard. Testing the waters, she hesitated for a moment before tentatively trying out his first name. "Okay, Jonathan."

His smile in response conveyed a subtle warmth, as if sharing this piece of himself with her was a gesture of trust. "My car's just around the corner," he mentioned, and she rose from the bench to follow him.

As they made their way to the car, Y/n couldn't shake the peculiar nature of the situation. Getting into her professor's car in full view of her dorms was certainly out of the ordinary, but the sense of trust she felt for Jonathan quelled any reservations. The gentlemanly gesture of him opening the car door for her only added to the surreal atmosphere.

"Thank you," she expressed her gratitude with a smile as she settled into the car. Jonathan circled the vehicle and took his place in the driver's seat, the engine humming to life. As he secured his seatbelt, he shifted the conversation to a more mundane topic. "Have any breakfast before leaving?" he inquired, glancing over at her.

The realization struck her – breakfast had slipped her mind in the whirlwind of excitement. "Uh, no, I didn't," she admitted, a slight sheepishness in her tone.

“Well we can’t be having that,” Jonathan said, looking at her with his piercing blue eyes behind his glasses. 

“Oh, it’s fine really,” Y/n tried to reassure him. 

"You're in for a long day; you need food," Jonathan remarked, his concern for her well-being evident in his words. "Besides, I haven't eaten yet myself. I know a lovely cafe on the way; don't worry about it."

Grateful for his thoughtfulness, Y/n smiled and responded, "Thank you."

"Not a problem, my Dear," he assured her, his use of the endearment somehow making the situation feel even more surreal. With that, he skillfully maneuvered the car into the flow of traffic.

To her surprise, the chaotic Gotham roads seemed unusually cooperative, allowing their journey to unfold with an unexpected smoothness. The city, notorious for its perpetual hustle and bustle, offered a brief respite as they cruised toward their destination. In the serene confines of the car, Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the contrasting calmness outside. 

Jonathan expertly maneuvered the car into a parking space just outside a charming diner nestled on the outskirts of the Narrows. Exiting the car, the duo made their way into the cozy establishment.

"Seat yourselves, I'll be right with you," greeted a friendly waitress.

Jonathan gestured towards an inviting booth, Y/n slid into the seat, the comfortable booth promising a relaxing start to the day's adventures.

As they settled in, Jonathan reached for a couple of menus discreetly tucked beneath the cutlery. He handed one to Y/n with a casual smile. "Choose anything you'd like—drink and food. I'll pay," he generously offered, his gaze shifting to his own menu.

"Oh, I can't have you pay for me. You're already doing so much for me," Y/n insisted, a hint of guilt tainting her expression.

Jonathan chuckled warmly, his eyes reflecting a genuine understanding. "You're a university student staying at the dorms; money is not something you should be throwing around. I, however, am well off with my jobs. Don't worry."

Despite his reassurance, Y/n couldn't shake off the feeling of indebtedness. "I just feel bad that you're doing all this for me," she confessed, her sincerity evident in her eyes.

"If you want to so badly, you can pay next time," Jonathan suggested, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

"I'll hold you to that," Y/n responded with a smile, the lighthearted banter momentarily easing the weight of gratitude she felt. The easy camaraderie between them made the ordinary act of sharing a meal feel like an extraordinary moment. 

She appreciated the effortless flow of their conversation, finding an unexpected camaraderie with Jonathan. The notion of befriending a professor initially seemed peculiar, but with each passing moment, it felt surprisingly natural. Their discussions swayed seamlessly between topics, and Y/n discovered a side of Jonathan beyond the classroom, making her appreciate him not just as an educator but as a genuinely pleasant individual.

As the morning sunlight streamed through the diner's windows, casting a warm glow on their table, Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the ease with which they interacted. The atmosphere was friendly and unburdened by the typical student-teacher dynamic. In that little diner booth, they were just two adults enjoying each other's company, forging a connection that went beyond the confines of academia.

The array of options on the menu presented Y/n with a delightful dilemma. The diner's atmosphere was lively yet intimate, with the aroma of brewing coffee and sizzling breakfast filling the air. 

The waitress gracefully returned to their table, pen poised over her notepad. "What can I get for you two?" she inquired with a welcoming smile.

Jonathan was quick to respond, "I'll have a coffee and a breakfast bagel." His eyes then shifted to Y/n.

Feeling more on the sweet side, Y/n replied, "A berry smoothie and a brownie, please."

The waitress, attentive to details, followed up, "Would you like cream or yogurt with the brownie?"

"Yogurt, please," Y/n said.

The waitress jotted down their orders. "Is there anything else?" she asked, awaiting their final decisions.

"That'll be all," Jonathan confirmed, and Y/n nodded in agreement. With that, the waitress gracefully glided away, leaving them to resume their conversation in the cozy diner booth.

Jonathan chuckled at Y/n's choice, "A brownie at 8 in the morning?" he teased playfully.

"I know, it's a bit sweet," Y/n admitted, laughing along with him. "But treats like this are rare for me."

"Everyone deserves a morning indulgence now and then," Jonathan responded with a smile.

Their conversation continued to flow effortlessly, exchanging bits of information about their lives, particularly revolving around university.

Around 10 minutes later, the waitress returned with their orders. "Here you go," she said, placing the plates in front of them.

"Thank you," Y/n expressed her gratitude, eagerly eyeing the delicious spread in front of her.

As the waitress left, Y/n took a moment to appreciate the aroma of the coffee and the vibrant colors of her berry smoothie. Jonathan sipped his coffee and leaned back, a relaxed smile on his face. The atmosphere was comfortable, the diner buzzing with the low hum of conversations and the clinking of cutlery.

Jonathan leaned forward, taking ahold of his bagel, a faint smile on his face. "I hope you don't mind the detour for breakfast. It's good to start a day like this every once in a while."

Y/n chuckled, feeling the ease of their interaction. "Not at all. It's a pleasant surprise, actually. I didn't expect today to begin like this."

Jonathan nodded. "Well, sometimes it's the unexpected moments that make the day memorable."

Jonathan took a sip of his coffee before speaking, "So, tell me more about your interest in psychology. What drew you to the field?"

Y/n took a moment to savor her smoothie before answering, "I've always been fascinated by the human mind and how it works. It's like this intricate puzzle, and psychology helps me unravel its complexities. Plus, the idea of helping people through understanding their thoughts and behaviors would also be pretty cool."

Jonathan nodded, "It's a noble pursuit. Psychology has the power to make a significant impact on individuals' lives. Do you have any specific areas within psychology that you find most intriguing?"

“I won’t lie, Arkham has always been an interest of mine. Not necessarily the famous rogues that are constantly escaping, but the more troubled souls that had a rough start,” Y/n shared.

“Not so interested in the Joker then?” Jonathan teased.

“God no,” Y/n responded.

Jonathan chuckled, "Can't blame you there. The Joker is a whole different level of chaos."

Y/n took a sip of her berry smoothie, enjoying the refreshing taste. "But seriously, the idea of helping those who are struggling mentally, especially the ones society tends to overlook, that's where I want to make a difference."

Jonathan nodded, sipping his coffee. "Mental health is often stigmatized, and people don't realize the impact it has on individuals and society as a whole. Your dedication to understanding and helping is commendable."

The conversation continued, effortlessly weaving between casual banter and more serious topics. The comfortable atmosphere of the diner, coupled with Jonathan's easygoing nature, made Y/n feel at ease discussing her aspirations.

-

As they drove toward Arkham, Jonathan and Y/n continued their conversation, Jonathan sharing about the intricate workings of the human mind. The cityscape changed as they delved deeper into the Narrows, with its dodgy alleyways and poorly lit streets, which even in the dark made it difficult to see, creating an atmosphere of unease. The air felt heavy, carrying the weight of the stories locked within the walls of Arkham Asylum.

Jonathan glanced at Y/n. "It's a unique place, Arkham," he remarked, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

Y/n couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation. The legendary reputation of Arkham Asylum had always fueled her curiosity, and now, with the prospect of exploring its mysteries, she couldn't contain her anticipation.

Securing a parking spot proved effortless in the vast, desolate parking lot. Stepping out of the car, Y/n gazed up at the imposing structure – a stone fortress that housed some of Gotham's most notorious criminals. Jonathan, an experienced guide in this ominous environment, approached her and led the way inside.

With a swift display of his ID, Jonathan gained entry, Y/n following suit without a single question. He grabbed a visitor badge for her before securing it around her neck.

The echoing clang of the heavy metal door closing behind them filled the entrance hall. The dimly lit corridor stretched ahead, lined with security personnel stationed at various checkpoints. The cold, sterile air of the facility sent shivers down Y/n's spine as she adjusted the visitor badge Jonathan handed her.

The corridor seemed to wind endlessly, each turn revealing another layer of security. Jonathan led her through the labyrinthine structure, his familiarity with the layout evident. The occasional distant echoes of unsettling sounds from within the facility heightened the tension in the air.

As they passed by the barred cells, Y/n couldn't help but steal glances into the shadows, catching glimpses of faces that seemed to hold a myriad of stories. The residents of Arkham Asylum, each with their own struggles and torments, observed the visitors with a mix of curiosity and detachment.

Jonathan explained the varying levels of security, detailing the procedures in place to ensure the safety of both staff and visitors. Y/n absorbed the information with a mix of fascination and a growing sense of apprehension. The weight of being surrounded by some of Gotham's most troubled souls pressed down on her.

They eventually reached a central area, a hub of activity where staff members bustled about their duties. Y/n observed the dynamics, the interplay between doctors, guards, and the patients who moved within the confines of their respective spaces. The atmosphere was a blend of tension and routine.

Approaching a door, Jonathan turned the doorknob, revealing the door marked with his name – Dr. Crane. The office, his domain, welcomed them, and Jonathan efficiently navigated around his desk to retrieve a couple of files.

Jonathan gathered the necessary files and responded, "Just a regular in-patient for the first session, but the second might be less conventional."

"Will they be okay with me being present?" Y/n asked.

"Well, if you're concerned, you can always ask them. Consent is important," Jonathan replied.

"Thank you," Y/n expressed her gratitude.

Jonathan guided them through the dimly lit halls of Arkham, arriving at the room where the first session would take place. They waited at the door, observing the tense atmosphere. Soon, a guard led a patient down the corridor, and from Jonathan's focused gaze, Y/n assumed this was the individual they were there to see.

"Mr. Wilson, you seem to be in good spirits today," Jonathan remarked, his tone carrying a sense of monotony.

“Mhmm,” Mr. Wilson responded, his eyes wandering around the hallway.

“I have a student from Gotham University joining us today. She's here to observe the session. Would that be acceptable to you?” Jonathan inquired.

Mr. Wilson finally looked up, his gaze meeting Y/n's. It appeared as though he hadn't encountered a woman in years. After a moment's contemplation, he nodded slowly.

“Great,” Jonathan said, holding the door open for everyone to enter the room.

The room was clinical, with pale walls and minimal furniture. Jonathan guided Y/n to a seat near the back, gesturing for her to take a comfortable position. Mr. Wilson settled into a chair across from Jonathan's desk.

As the session began, Jonathan engaged Mr. Wilson in conversation, discussing various topics. Y/n observed the interaction closely, trying to discern the nuances of the therapy process. She noted the controlled detachment in Jonathan's demeanor, a stark contrast to the patient's erratic and paranoid behavior.

Throughout the session, Y/n was captivated by the exchanges between therapist and patient. Mr. Wilson's responses were often fragmented and disjointed, revealing the complexity of his mental state. Jonathan navigated the conversation with finesse, probing gently into sensitive areas while maintaining an air of professionalism.

As the session concluded, Jonathan thanked Mr. Wilson for his time, and the patient was escorted back to his room by a guard. Jonathan turned his attention to Y/n, who had been silently observing.

“What did you think?” he asked, his expression betraying a genuine interest in her perspective.

“You're a really good doctor,” Y/n chuckled softly.

"I appreciate that," Jonathan replied modestly. "It's crucial to establish trust and understanding with the patients here. Each case requires a unique approach."

Y/n nodded in agreement, absorbing the gravity of the therapy session she had witnessed. Jonathan guided her out of the room, and they continued to explore different areas of Arkham, with Jonathan sharing insights into his work and the challenges he faced.

As they walked through the eerie corridors, Y/n couldn't help but feel a mixture of fascination and trepidation. Arkham held a dark allure, and she marveled at the intricate dance between the staff and the troubled individuals confined within its walls.

"So, your next patient?" Y/n inquired curiously.

"I'm sure you've heard of Edward Nigma, otherwise known as the Riddler—a real piece of work, that one," Jonathan remarked.

Y/n felt her heart skip a beat. The Riddler, notorious for creating horrifying traps and puzzels for his victims.

"I'm assuming you're going to sit out on that one?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes, please," Y/n replied.

Jonathan chuckled, understanding her hesitation. "Not a fan of riddles, I take it?"

Y/n smiled nervously. "Let's just say I prefer my challenges to be in textbooks, not in the form of elaborate mind games that may or may not get me killed."

"Well, you're not alone in that sentiment," Jonathan assured her. "Nigma is... unique, to say the least. We'll proceed cautiously, and you can observe from the safety of the mirrored room."

They continued down the hall, passing by cells where other inmates were confined. Each face carried its own story, and the air was thick with an unsettling atmosphere.

As they approached the next room, a heavy door with a small window, Jonathan peered inside. "Edward, good afternoon."

The Riddler, a man with sharp features and an air of arrogance, looked up from his seated position. "Crane, always punctual. Who's this?" He nodded toward Y/n.

"Edward, meet Y/n, a psychology student from Gotham University. She's here to observe our sessions," Jonathan explained.

The Riddler's eyes narrowed as he examined Y/n. "Ah, another curious mind seeking the secrets of the human psyche. Fascinating."

As they entered, Nigma looked up, his eyes locking onto Y/n through the window. A sly smile crossed his face. "Are you here to solve my riddles?"

"She'll just be observing," Jonathan explained, gesturing towards the second room—the observation room.

Y/n's discomfort grew at the Riddlers staring, but she managed a polite nod. Jonathan guided her to the observation room, assuring her of the safety measures in place before going in to talk with Nigma. 

From behind the one-way mirror, Y/n observed the intricate dance of intellect between Jonathan and the enigmatic Riddler, realizing that the challenges in the academic world seemed trivial compared to the complexities of Arkham Asylum.

The atmosphere grew more uncomfortable, and Y/n felt a chill run down her spine. She could tell Jonathan was reaching his limit with Edward's antics, his patience visibly waning.

"Riddle me this... how much does the Doll behind the window know?" Edward provocatively inquired, locking eyes with her.

Edward, ever the provocateur, threw a cryptic remark Jonathan’s way, using the unsettling nickname "Doll." She couldn’t understand how he knew where she was behind the window, considering it was a mirror from his side, but he was looking right at her.

Jonathan's reaction was subtle but telling. A momentary pause in his movements, a flash of irritation across his face, and then he composed himself. "My, my, getting lousy with the riddles, are we?" he retorted, his tone laced with thinly veiled frustration.

Edward, undeterred, pressed on, "Then let me ask a question..Why did you really bring her here?...Does she know about Scarecrow?" His tone held a hint of malevolence, making Y/n acutely aware of the dangers potentially surrounding her.

Jonathan decided that enough was enough. "That's it for today, I believe," he declared, swiftly closing his file and rising from his seat.

Edward, seemingly amused by the exchange, reclined in his chair, his laughter lingering as the guard escorted him out of the room. Jonathan approached Y/n, his expression a mix of exhaustion and determination.

-

Even after that chilling session, Y/n found herself increasingly drawn to the complexities of mental health and the delicate art of psychiatric treatment. As the last session concluded, Jonathan silently walked her back to his office, both seemingly lost in their own thoughts.

Packing away his last thing, Jonathan moved over to Y/n, “Come on…” Jonathan's voice broke the quiet, quietly guiding her out of Arkham, his hand resting on the small of her back.

Reaching his car, Jonathan moved to her side first, holding the door open for her.

"I hope this was an insightful experience for you," he remarked, opening the door for her.

"Absolutely," Y/n replied. "Thank you for the opportunity, Jonathan." She hopped into the car, and Jonathan closed the door behind her before taking his place in the driver's seat.

The day at Arkham had left a lasting impression on Y/n, sparking a newfound interest in the intricacies of the human mind and the challenges faced by those dedicated to healing it.

The occasional streetlight cast shadows across his face as she looked at him from her side. However, her mind couldn't shake the lingering questions from the Riddler's cryptic words at the end of the session. Did Jonathan have another motive for bringing her to Arkham? And what was he referring to with Scarecrow? What was Scarecrow, and what role did Jonathan play in it? The mysteries lingered, casting a shadow on the experience that, despite its profound impact, left Y/n with a sense of curiosity and unanswered questions.

She hadn’t even noticed Jonathan pulling up in front of the University dorms. It took a moment for her to realize that they had arrived, and Jonathan's gesture of opening the car door for her snapped her out of her daydream.

Jonathan opened her door and extended his hand to help her. "Thank you," she expressed meekly as she accepted his assistance.

“Don’t mention it...” Jonathan replied, a subtle smile on his lips.

“...You’ve been so kind to me, Jonathan. I really appreciate it. I honestly couldn't thank you enough,” Y/n conveyed, looking up at him.

“I’m just giving you what you deserve,” Jonathan responded, a warm smile still playing on his lips.

Jonathan walked her to the stairs and as Y/n stood by the entrance of the dorms, she hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was appropriate to ask what had been lingering in her mind.

"Jonathan," she began, "about what the Riddler mentioned... Scarecrow, and your motive for bringing me to Arkham. Is there something more I should know?"

Jonathan's expression shifted ever so slightly, and for a moment, it seemed like he was carefully choosing his words. He leaned against the car, a thoughtful gaze in his eyes.

"The Riddler likes to play games with words," Jonathan began, "and sometimes, the less you know, the safer you are. It's part of Arkham's peculiar charm."

Y/n nodded, understanding that some things might be better left untouched. "Okay..Thank you, Jonathan."

He nodded in return, a sense of mystery lingering in the air. "See you Monday."

With a final nod and a friendly smile, Y/n made her way into the dorms, the encounter at Arkham echoing in her mind.

-

Monday came around, and Y/n hadn’t stopped thinking about her indirect encounter with the Riddler. The weekend had been filled with a mixture of fascination and apprehension. She went about her usual classes, but the questions surrounding Jonathan's involvement with the Riddler and the cryptic mention of Scarecrow lingered in her mind.

As she entered Professor Crane's psychology class, she couldn't help but wonder if he would address anything related to their visit to Arkham. The room filled with students chatting, the usual buzz before the lecture, but Y/n found herself scanning the room for any signs from Professor Crane.

The door to the classroom swung open, and in walked Professor Crane, looking as composed as ever. He started the class without acknowledging Y/n at all, diving into the lecture material as if it were any other day. Y/n's curiosity grew, but she decided against pressing further, at least during class hours.

After the lecture, as students filed out of the room, Y/n lingered, waiting for the opportune moment to approach Professor Crane. Once the room emptied, she approached his desk.

"Professor Crane," she began, "I've been thinking about our visit to Arkham. I know I shouldn’t, but I haven’t stop thinking about what the Riddler was talking about?"

Professor Crane looked at her, his gaze unreadable for a moment. Then, he sighed, realizing her curiosity wasn't easily deterred.

"Y/n," he started, "Arkham is filled with various personalities, each with their own stories. The Riddler is among many. Some tales are better left in the shadows. Focus on your studies and leave the mysteries of Arkham where they belong."

It was a cryptic response that left Y/n with more questions than answers. She felt unsettled in the way Jonathan was dismissing it so easily. 

Jonathan sighed, observing her detachment. "Just forget about it, Nigma is in Arkham for a reason. Don’t take what he says seriously... He’s just trying to mess with your head," Jonathan said.

Y/n nodded. "Okay... sorry about that. I won’t ask again."

"No need to apologize," Jonathan replied, his eyes showing a hint of understanding.

“I’ll be off now,” Y/n said, sensing a slight awkwardness in the air.

“You don’t want to stay?” Jonathan asked, his expression softening.

“Uh... would you like me to?” Y/n inquired, feeling a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty.

“Only if you wish to,” Jonathan said, leaving the decision up to her. The room held a lingering tension, a silent invitation for more conversation or perhaps a shared moment of quiet reflection.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, considering the unspoken offer. Eventually, she decided to stay.

"I don't mind staying for a bit," she said, offering a tentative smile.

Jonathan gestured toward one of the chairs in his office. "Please, have a seat."

As they settled into a conversation about various topics, the atmosphere became more relaxed. Y/n found herself opening up to Jonathan about her experiences and interests, and he reciprocated by sharing anecdotes from his work at Arkham. The initial professional boundaries started to blur, and a genuine connection began to form between them. It was an unexpected and refreshing turn of events for Y/n, adding a new layer to her academic journey.

-

In the following weeks, Y/n continued to attend Jonathan's office hours, not just for academic assistance but also for the engaging conversations they shared. Their discussions spanned beyond the realm of psychology, delving into personal stories, interests, and even occasional light banter.

As the semester progressed, Y/n found herself becoming more captivated by both the subject matter and her professor's unique approach to teaching. Jonathan's guidance extended beyond the classroom, as he recommended additional readings and shared insights that went beyond the standard curriculum.

-

The day that followed unfolded in a way Y/n hadn't anticipated. Making her way into Jonathan’s office for their customary daily discussions, she greeted him with a warm "Hiya," bearing a takeaway tray adorned with a coffee and a smoothie – their usual indulgences.

"Evening, Dear," Jonathan reciprocated, his smile adding a touch of warmth to the comfortable atmosphere of his office.

Choosing the inviting couch over the formality of the desk, Y/n settled in, and Jonathan joined her after finishing up his paperwork. The shift in seating only enhanced the coziness, turning their daily talks into a more intimate and relaxed exchange. Y/n handed the cup of coffee to Jonathan, a small gesture in their routine. She indulged in the refreshing sips of her smoothie as Jonathan accepted the coffee.

"Thank you, my Dear," he expressed with a grateful smile.

"Anytime," Y/n responded, the casual exchange feeling comforting.

Sipping her smoothie, she rested her head on the back of the couch, facing Jonathan. 

"..I know I said I wouldn't ask again, but.. I just can't shake off what the Riddler was saying..back at Arkham" Y/n said, slowly looking up at Jonathan.

Jonathan huffed, a hint of frustration showing in his expression. "What the Riddler said is not important," he dismissed.

Y/n sat back up, "I know that's not true. I don't understand why you can't just tell—" Y/n was abruptly cut off.

"There's nothing to talk about!" Jonathan suddenly snapped.

The sudden outburst startled Y/n, witnessing a side of Jonathan she wasn’t used to being directed at her. She could feel the tension in the air. Jonathan, realizing his sharp reaction, sighed. Removing his glasses, he rubbed his face with his hand, frustrated.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm just... trying to protect you, okay?" Jonathan explained, his voice softer, revealing an undercurrent of concern.

"..How is this possibly protecting me? The Riddler was taking about me... I need to know," Y/n insisted. She realized she had pushed too far, but this seemed like something serious that Jonathan was intentionally keeping from her.

Jonathan stood up slowly and approached his office door. Y/n heard the distinct sound of the lock clicking, sending fearful shivers through her body.

"What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room," Jonathan stated with a gravity that heightened Y/n's anxiety.

As Jonathan turned around to face her, setting his coffee down, he sighed and began tapping his feet with his hands on his hips—an unusual display of nervousness. Y/n, taken aback, had never seen Jonathan appear so uneasy.

"I will admit, Y/n, the feelings I have for you are not entirely appropriate," Jonathan confessed, avoiding direct eye contact.

Y/n let out a shaky breath. "What?"

"The real reason I brought you to Arkham was to make you feel special... to show off, even," Jonathan revealed.

Y/n's mind raced back to the Riddler's insinuations about Jonathan's potential ulterior motives for bringing her to Arkham. The revelation left her bewildered and unsure of how to respond.

Y/n tried to push aside Jonathan's unsettling confession, focusing on the second thing the Riddler had mentioned. "So what is Scarecrow?" Y/n inquired, curiosity driving her to seek answers.

She could sense Jonathan's breath hitch. "Scarecrow... is an individual with a fascination for fear," Jonathan explained, his gaze fixed on the ground, hands still on his hips. "I'm sure you've been hearing about the recent patients being admitted to Arkham with strange yet similar symptoms of hallucinations."

"So what does this individual have to do with me?" Y/n pressed further.

"Let's just say... his fascination doesn't stop there," Jonathan replied cryptically.

With each passing moment, Y/n's tension heightened. "Jonathan... who is Scarecrow?" she asked nervously.

"I think you already know," Jonathan responded, finally meeting Y/n's gaze with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine.

Y/n found it difficult to catch her breath as her eyes darted around the room. Setting the forgotten smoothie on the ground beside the couch, Y/n stood up.

"I should probably go," Y/n attempted to make a quick exit past Jonathan, only to be halted by his firm grip on her arm.

The touch made her jolt, but his grasp didn't loosen. "I can't let you leave," Jonathan declared.

"P-please, I promise I won't say anything," Y/n pleaded, feeling tears welling up in her eyes.

"How do I know that?" Jonathan questioned.

Her blood ran cold. "I promise you, I'll do anything," Y/n begged.

Jonathan looked at her curiously. "Anything?"

Y/n gazed at him, her stomach jumping. Acting on an impulse she couldn't quite comprehend, she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. His eyes widened in shock, but the desperation in the air forced him to give in.

Jonathan couldn't resist, kissing her with a passion he had suppressed for months. His hands moved to Y/n's waist, pulling her closer. In that moment, Y/n thought, this was the perfect distraction.

She slowly moved one of her hands behind her, fumbling for the doorknob. Finally getting a firm grasp on it, she slowly turned the knob to open the door. However, luck was not on her side when the lock clicked loudly, the sound echoing in the room. Her heart dropped, and Jonathan's eyes shot open. Just as Y/n was about to hastily open the door, Jonathan pushed her back, causing her to scream as her body slammed against the door, keeping it firmly closed. Harshly grabbing her arms, he held them above her head.

He stared down at her as tears streamed down her face. "Trying to distract me, huh?" Jonathan said, an evil glint in his eye.

Y/n tried to yank her hands out of his grip, but it proved impossible given the strength he had over her.

"Please, Jonathan! You can't do this!" Y/n cried.

Jonathan brought his face closer to hers, she turned her head in fear, closing her eyes tightly. Jonathan dragged his nose up her neck, breathing against her skin. "I'll do what is necessary," he whispered.

In a desperate attempt, she brought her foot up, trying to stomp on his foot, but that only seemed to anger him more. Jonathan aggressively threw her around and shoved her over his desk, holding her down by her hands again. However, this time, he stood between her legs, preventing her from using them.

Y/n whimpered beneath him, but he remained unyielding. "I never wanted this to happen, but you don't leave me much of a choice," Jonathan spoke through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, I'll be nice, but you have to let me go," Y/n pleaded.

"That's not going to happen, my Dear," Jonathan said.

Before Y/n could react, Jonathan swiftly brought his sleeve-covered wrist up to her face, a faint hiss preceding the release of a mysterious puff of gas. Y/n's immediate response was a piercing scream as the unexpected spray hit her face, sending shivers down her spine. The gas had an acrid smell, and as she inhaled, an unsettling sensation crept over her. The world around her started to warp and distort, as if reality itself was bending to the whims of her deepest fears.

Y/n's vision blurred, and her surroundings became an eerie dreamscape. The once-familiar office now transformed into a haunting image. Jonathan's figure morphed, his features elongating and contorting, creating a grotesque visage that sent chills down Y/n's spine.

A sense of dread settled over her, intensifying with every passing moment. As the fear gas took hold, Y/n felt a chilling coldness crawl up her spine. Her body became increasingly heavy, and the room seemed to close in on her, suffocating her in a nightmarish reality. The longer she stared at Jonathan, the more the lines between nightmare and reality blurred, until the gas finally overwhelmed her. Y/n's consciousness waned, slipping into the abyss of her deepest anxieties, and the world around her faded to black as she succumbed to unconsciousness.

-

Waking up was excruciating, her head pounding with unbearable intensity. Fear pulsed through her, her heart racing in tandem with the throbbing ache in her temples. As she reluctantly opened her eyes, a disorienting mix of darkness and blinding light assaulted her senses. Surveying her surroundings only deepened her confusion; it appeared as though she had awakened in some kind of forest, a surreal landscape that contradicted Gotham's urban reality. Yet, her vision played tricks on her, rendering it impossible to discern between what was real and what was illusion.

“It’s good to see you’re awake, my Dear,” a voice echoed beside her.

Startled, she turned towards the voice, recognizing it but struggling to reconcile the distorted tones with its origin. The person wore a burlap mask, concealing their identity.

“J-Jonathan,” Y/n stammered, feeling a profound sense of weakness.

“I’m giving you a chance to run,” Jonathan declared.

Confused and disoriented, Y/n attempted to question him, but Jonathan interrupted her.

“I'll give you a 30 seconds headstart. If I can't find you, I’ll leave you alone. But if I catch you…I won’t let you go,” he ominously proclaimed.

“J-Jonathan, I can barely see!” Y/n cried.

“Get up, Y/n,” Jonathan commanded.

“Jonath-”

“Get. Up.”

His authoritative tone sent shivers down Y/n's spine. Trembling, she maneuvered to kneel on her knees, only to be met with a searing pain radiating from her ankles. A guttural scream escaped her lips as she gazed down, her vision still distorted. Through the haze, she discerned the ghastly reality – two bells, meticulously sewn into her flesh on either side of her ankles. The skin threaded through them, attempting to heal around the foreign objects. The grotesque sight made her stomach churn, and she screamed in sheer horror.

“What did you do to me! My fucking feet! You fucking bitch!” Y/n cried, her voice filled with rage and terror as she screamed at Jonathan.

He sighed before grabbing her by the arm roughly and pulling her to her feet. She sobbed, attempting to push Jonathan away, but his strength prevailed, keeping her on her unsteady feet.

“Listen, Y/n... I’ll give you a minute to get ready, but after that, you have to run... I don’t want to hurt you,” Jonathan said, his voice carrying an unsettling mix of calm and sincerity.

“You fucking liar! You put bells on my fucking feet! You gassed me! You have no fucking intentions of letting me go!” Y/n tried shoving Jonathan, her desperation evident, but his unwavering strength proved impossible.

Y/n felt a mix of fear and desperation as the distorted voice of Jonathan haunted her in the dark forest. The minute he gave her felt like an eternity, her mind racing with confusion and terror. She could barely comprehend what had happened to her – the bells on her feet, the agonizing pain, the disorienting surroundings.

As the seconds ticked away, Y/n attempted to collect herself. She fumbled to her feet, the pain shooting through her legs with each movement. She desperately wiped away her tears, trying to focus on her surroundings. The distorted voices in her head urged her to find a way out, to escape from this nightmare.

"Jonathan, please!" she pleaded, her voice shaky and weak.

But Jonathan remained silent, hidden behind the burlap mask, his presence lingering in the shadows. The ominous silence amplified Y/n's anxiety as the countdown continued. The forest seemed to close in on her, each shadow playing tricks on her mind.

As Y/n continued to struggle against Jonathan's grip, he finally let her go. She stumbled backward, her vision still blurry and disoriented. Tears streamed down her face as she realized the gravity of her situation.

“Your minute is up, Y/n,” Jonathan said coldly.

Panicking, Y/n attempted to move, but the pain in her ankles was excruciating. The bells on her feet jingled with each step, amplifying her fear. She could barely see the distorted figures of trees around her, unsure of where to go.

Jonathan's distorted voice echoed, “Run, Y/n. Run if you want to escape.”

With her heart pounding in her ears, Y/n turned around and limped forward, desperately trying to navigate the nightmarish forest. The fear of being caught and the pain in her feet merged into a tormenting symphony.

Every step felt like agony, the pain from her ankles shooting through her with every move. Determined, Y/n forced herself to pick up the pace, only to be met with the relentless jingle of the bells on her feet, echoing through the unsettling silence of the distorted forest. Her screams of frustration reverberated, a desperate attempt to drown out the haunting sound. Uncertain of the reality around her, Y/n pushed herself forward, driven by the primal instinct to escape from the unknown horrors lurking in the shadows.

The echoing chime of the bells attached to her feet seemed to resonate through the eerie forest, an ominous soundtrack to her desperate flight. Despite the seemingly impossible task of escaping undetected, Y/n pressed on, fueled by fear and rage.

Tears streamed down her face as she navigated the distorted landscape, grappling with the stark contrast between the professor she respected and this nightmarish pursuer. Regret and self-blame consumed her thoughts as she questioned whether she had unknowingly unlocked a darker side of Jonathan Crane or if this twisted game had been his true nature all along.

As the forest blurred around her, Y/n couldn't gauge how much time had passed, but the feeling of being hunted intensified with every breath.

The shadows danced around her, but Y/n had more pressing concerns. The closest forest was on the outskirts of Gotham, and by her knowlegde, this wasn’t it. The trees surrounding her didn't match the familiar landscape. Adding to the surreal experience, the echoing sounds of concrete beneath her feet contradicted the visual illusions that played out around her.

Although the effects of the gas were gradually diminishing, the horror lingered. Trees transformed into buildings, and lampposts seemed to sprout from the ground, creating a nightmarish dreamscape that defied the logic of Gotham's familiar streets.

Navigating the unnaturally morphing terrain was challenging on its own, but the addition of bells sewn to her ankles introduced a cruel twist to Y/n's desperate attempt to escape. A sharp turn around a building resulted in the bells grazing against a rough surface, tearing at her delicate skin. Agonizing pain shot up her legs, forcing her to collapse in sheer torment. A cry of pain escaped her lips, quickly stifled in the realization that Jonathan could be lurking anywhere, ears attuned to her distress.

As she sat on the ground, cradling her injured foot, hot tears streamed down her face. The sight of her foot revealed a troubling scene – it was red, irritated, and blood slowly trickled to the ground. Cursing under her breath, she was foolishly leaving a trail of breadcrumbs, marking her path for Jonathan to follow.

Defeated and desperate, Y/n closed her eyes, surrendering to the overwhelming hopelessness that enveloped her. Resting her head against the wall behind her, she weeped. She damned from the very beginning. Jonathan's idea of escape left her grappling with uncertainty – was his definition of ‘escape’ merely leaving this immediate area, contacting the police, or leaving Gotham altogether? Didn’t matter, she didn’t know.

Even if Y/n managed to ‘escape’, she knew all too well that Jonathan wouldn't simply let her be. Having spent months in his company, she had learned that determination and obsession defined him. The prospect of escaping his clutches seemed increasingly elusive, leaving Y/n trapped in a sinister game of hide and seek.

Refusing to succumb to hopelessness against the wall, Y/n gathered her remaining strength. She couldn't accept this as the end; she needed to keep going. Rising to her feet with deliberate determination, she carried on moving. Instead of running, which would only amplify the bells' noise and her exhaustion, Y/n pressed on with a steady walk. She was determined not to let Jonathan's twisted game break her spirit.

Undoubtedly, the blood marked her path, but Y/n had no other choice. Pressing forward was her only option. The effects of the gas seemed to have worn off, revealing a less distorted reality, albeit no less grim. She recognized that she was now in the Narrows, but the specific location remained a mystery.

As she moved cautiously ahead, a voice, dripping with malevolence, echoed from behind her. "I see my Dear has hurt herself..." Her blood ran cold. She didn't need to turn around to know she was in deep trouble.

The tears flowed freely down Y/n's face. "Why are you doing this?"

Jonathan remained silent, a chilling stillness in the air. He took a step forward, and instinctively, she took one back.

"Please..."

Suddenly, Jonathan lunged forward, catching her off guard. Y/n had no time to react as he tackled her to the ground, his weight pinning her down. She screamed and thrashed, the muffled sounds of her distress lost in the indifferent hum of Gotham's background noise. People in nearby buildings likely heard, but in a city like Gotham, such cries often went unanswered.

"Like a doe that's been shot," Jonathan spoke in a low, unsettling tone near her ear.

A syringe emerged from his pocket, and panic surged through her. She squirmed and fought, but his hold was unyielding. The needle pierced her upper thigh, and a sudden rush of paralysis coursed through her body. As consciousness waned, she heard Jonathan's remorseful voice.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," he uttered, holding her captive on the unforgiving ground.

"I thought you were my friend.." Y/n cried, her voice echoing in the desolation of the Narrows.

The world around Y/n blurred as the drug took effect, robbing her of control over her own body. Jonathan's mask became an indistinct smudge, but his unsettling presence still lingered. The last words she heard before succumbing to unconsciousness were Jonathan's remorseful apology, leaving her with a sense of betrayal and a haunting question: What had she done to deserve this? -

A/N: I think it's pretty clear by now I have a chasing(Prey/Predator) kink🧍‍♀️I don't know about you guys, but I want that adrenaline rush of being chased by an obsessive man 😫🤚 Thank you for reading and I hoped you enjoyed it. My requests are open for feel free to request 💚

[touchtheinvisiblestars]

Close To Home Part Five

Part Four

***

By the time the weekend rolled around again, the weather had turned. Rain fell in slow, steady sheets all day Saturday, drumming against the windows of your house like it had something to say. You had a to-do list a mile long—laundry, lesson plans, emails you’d been putting off—but instead, you found yourself curled up with a blanket, sipping tea, and reading over Joel’s last few messages.

You always found the semester breaks strange, you still had mountains of work just minus the chaos of teaching a class. It felt like a weird limbo of sorts. As all breaks go, it's over before it feels like it's begun. You resigned yourself to marking some papers, getting the most tedious job of the day done first.

Slowly working your way through the pile, you found some answers that made you chuckle. Others that drew an involuntary eye roll out of you. Some of the kids in your class were too smart for their own good sometimes.

As you finished marking a stack of tests, your phone buzzed. You couldn't help the smile that creeped up, knowing who it was before you unlocked your phone.

Joel: Looks like we’re getting rained out on this job. Might be home early for once.

You: Rare sighting of the elusive Joel Miller, off before sundown?

Joel: Don’t spook me. I’ll disappear.

You laughed to yourself, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Before you could type, a new message popped through.

Joel: What’re you up to tonight?

Your heart did that dumb flutter again, and you scolded yourself for it—but didn’t stop smiling.

You: Rainy night in. Tea, a book I keep rereading instead of finishing, and probably falling asleep halfway through a movie. You?

Joel: That sounds better than anything I’ve got. You ever read that book out loud? Bet your voice’d make it sound nicer.

Your breath caught a little—caught and held, like your brain needed a second to catch up to your heart.

You: You trying to charm me, Miller?

Joel: Is it working?

You didn’t respond right away. You didn’t need to. The three little dots showed up quickly after.

Joel: Sorry if that was too much. Just... been thinkin’ about you a lot. Even more than I should, probably.

There it was again—that thing between the lines. That quiet vulnerability he never outright said but somehow always let you feel.

You: It’s not too much. I’ve been thinking about you too.

You weren’t sure what you expected after that. Maybe a heart emoji. Maybe silence.

What you got was:

Joel: Rain stops tomorrow. You free? My girl's having a sleepover at a friend's.

You read the message three times before replying.

You: Yeah. I’d really like to see you again.

Joel: Then it’s a date.

You decide to try your luck and start typing.

You: Are you busy this evening?

The wait between the message being read to those three dots appearing made you regret sending it in the first place. but before you could unsend the message another popped up.

Joel: I can't, I promised we'd have a movie night tonight. I'm sorry.

You: Please don't apologise, she always comes first. If we do this, you have to know I want you to put her first.

Joel: Thank you, that means a lot. See you tomorrow?

You: Looking forward to it.

It wasn’t a grand plan. Nothing extravagant. Just coffee again—or maybe something warmer, like dinner at the quiet diner near the hardware store he’d once told you about in passing. But that was enough. More than enough.

You stared at his name on the screen long after the conversation had ended.

***

Part Six

[animasolaoriginal]

INFATUATED ♦️ NINE

CHAPTER ONE ♦️ SERIES MASTERLIST ♦️ AO3

When he comes back from his jog-turned-errand run, he finds her with a bit of a temper - nothing he can't deal with and correct immediately. And the lesson doesn't stop there...

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Vaginal sex. Sex toys. Assisted masturbation. Hand job. Thigh humping. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 9k

EIGHT 🟥 NINE 🟥 TEN

When he returns to the apartment, the sun is setting behind the large windows, tinting everything in a bright orange hue. The jog that he had planned to get his mind in order had turned into an errand run. A visit to the club, checking in, to delegate some more things he didn't know he needed two days ago. Many phone calls, arrangements, orders. A stressful ending to a perfect weekend. And after all that, his mind is still in disarray. Full of her.

He shouldn't have left her for so long.

Putting the bags down on the kitchen island, he inhales deeply, runs a hand through his hair and mentally prepares himself for what he may find in his bedroom. Unlocking the door, he isn't sure what he is seeing.

There's a pile of blankets in front of the window, a little mountain of sheets and linens, and by the looks of it, she's stripped almost the entire bed to wrap herself in her little cocoon. He approaches the window slowly, watching how the bundle in front of him moves slightly, barely noticeable, just a little shiver when her deep breaths hit the window pane and fog up the glass.

He crouches down beside her and gently puts his hand on the soft fabric, and she stiffens, holding her breath, before her head slowly emerges from between the blankets, her eyes blinking tiredly as she meets his curious gaze.

“Hey, baby,” he whispers. “What are you doing here? Did you build a fort?”

She huffs a scoff and turns away, staring through the window down at the city that's getting ready for the night. It's already dark on the streets, lamps like little dots that can't disperse the shadows, while the sun sets slowly behind the tall buildings around them.

“Are you hungry, darling?” he asks quietly, both his hands on what he assumes to be her shoulders under the many layers of fabric she's thrown over herself.

Her voice is muffled, but the tone is clear when she repeats his question in a mocking tone. “Are you hungry... what do you think?” she adds, burrowing out of her cocoon to glare at him, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. “The only thing I ate all day is the fucking cum that you pumped into my stomach!” she croaks hoarsely, her voice louder than he's used to hearing. She sounds downright cranky.

He backs away in surprise, not having expected such an outburst. Not from her, his perfect little girl, who's been so submissive from the moment she woke up in his bed. She may have a point, but he doesn't like the way she talks to him.

Straightening up, he grabs the blanket and rips it off her without much resistance. She yelps as she tumbles to her side when he gathers the fabrics in his arms and throws them back onto the bed, then stares down at her darkly. He pauses as she crawls backwards, pulling her knees to her chest. She is wearing one of his hoodies that sits around her tiny body like a potato sack.

He clenches his jaw, meeting her wide eyes. “So you went through my closet, huh?” he says quietly. “After I told you not to?”

The defiance in her eyes wavers, her breath quickening. He's never felt more like a monster as he looks down at the slowly deflating bundle in front of him, the little rabbit sinking into herself as the wolf looms over her, baring his teeth.

“Well?” he snarls, still in a low voice, loaded, dangerous.

She looks away, sinks her fingers into the thick fabric, pulls it closer around herself. She mumbles something he can't understand.

“Speak up!” he says, a notch louder, making her flinch.

“M-missed you,” she repeats quietly, muffled as she presses her chin against her knees, hiding half of her face in the wide neckline of the hoodie.

He narrows his eyes, not sure he heard correctly. Slowly he crouches down in front of her, extending a hand to pull the fabric away from her mouth. She winces, stiffens when he touches her, eyes even wider, full of fear. “Say that again.”

She bites her lip, swallows hard, blinks quickly. “I... I... I've... m-missed you...” she whispers then, her voice that low little hum in the atmosphere, a sweet sound, a fleeting impression. “Y-you were gone so long...”

There's a strange sting to his heart, a little ache, his stomach tensing up as well. He doesn't know what to make of it. But his body reacts before he can think more about it, his big hands hooking under her arms, pulling her to her feet (she looks so fucking adorable, the hoodie is so big it's almost reaching her knees, the sleeves falling over her hands, hanging off her like boneless limbs) – before he unceremoniously throws her over his shoulder, that little bundle of limbs and hair and his hoodie, and she yelps, grips the back of his shirt, struggles a little bit, but ultimately stops fighting him the moment he leaves the bedroom.

Holding her legs, her small body bouncing on his shoulder, he carries her to the kitchen, then carefully puts her down on the counter, as careful as his trembling hands allow, before he grabs her face and stares at her, his breath fanning over her quivering lips. Her big eyes are glistening, fearful, all defiance gone. He's tempted to let it slide, forget about the mocking tone she's had (before she's tried to confuse him with her pitiful confession), but she has to learn her place.

“Next time you talk to me like that,” he whispers darkly, brushing his nose against hers, “I'll spank you so hard you won't be able to sit for a week!” She gasps, shivers, furrows her eyebrows. “And if you wouldn't look so goddamn cute in my hoodie, I'd do the same thing right now. You'll never go through my stuff again, understood?”

She nods frantically into his hands. “Y-yes, sir,” she whimpers. “I... I'm sorry...”

He exhales loudly through his nose, closes his eyes for a moment, then looks at her again, tilting his head to brush his lips against her jaw before he whispers into her ear: “So you missed me, huh? How much?”

She flinches, rapid little puffs of air leaving her flaring nostrils. He grips her throat with one hand while the other slides under the hem of the hoodie and finds her heat, fingers dipping right between her folds. No underwear. And it only takes him a few strokes of his fingertips and she's wet for him again. But it's not enough, he can tell when he presses his finger against her entrance. Her muscles are tense, stiff almost.

“Should have used the toys, baby...” he whispers, watching her closely. “This will probably hurt now...”

Her mouth falls open, her hands reaching out to grip the front of his shirt, to push him back or pull him closer, he's not sure and neither is she. She stares at him, eyes watering, this pure little thing, folding to his threats. The hand on her throat moves up to cup her face, wipes at the wetness under her eyes, while he keeps pushing his finger deeper into her tight warmth. She issues something like a croak, a voiceless little noise of protest or discomfort, but she doesn't squirm, doesn't try to pull away.

She just sits there on the counter, holding onto him, looking at him, and he can't help it, he leans in and captures her quivering lips for a deep kiss. And she moans against him, fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt, leaning into him, moving her lips, her tongue against his own, kissing back as needy as he's ever seen her. She really missed him, huh?

Still kissing her passionately, he slips his finger from the tight grip of her cunt and grabs her waist, pulls her towards the edge, nudges her legs apart, stands between them. Her feet hook around his legs, anchoring him against her. He gives a dark laugh into her mouth, gripping her hair to pull her head back a little. She gasps, lips red and swollen, eyes almost black with how dilated her pupils are.

His hands fumble with the fabric of the hoodie, push it up and around her waist, he's tempted to rip it off her entirely, but the idea to fuck her while she's wearing his clothes fuels his want for her even more. So the hoodie stays on. Her hands fall to her side before she braces herself on them, fingers (hidden under the long sleeves) curling around the edge as she watches him push his pants and underwear down. Holding her hungry gaze with the same hunger, he grips his cock and gives it a few pumps before he presses the tip to her entrance.

No preparation, he's going in raw, he needs it, she deserves it. Her face tenses when he forces the tip in, she's so tight, tighter than usual, and it takes him a few nudges to sink the first inches into her. Her breath quickens, and she fights the pain, he can tell, her eyes watering, her arms shaking as she white-knuckles the counter. His hands find the dip of her waist, and he rolls his hips into her, feeling her resistance, the tense muscles fighting the intruder.

Watching her closely, he pushes deeper, inch by inch, his cock squeezed by her clenching walls. He wants to just slam his pelvis against her, hammer his way into her, bury himself with violence, but she's already on the verge of losing it, face red, lips pressed into a thin line, the first tears rolling from her lashes, body shaking under the sensation of him impaling her raw.

His hand finds the back of her neck, and he pulls her against him, meets her mouth with a smack. She's greedily leaning into him, legs raised, feet digging into his lower back, hands reaching up to grip at his shirt again, as he keeps moving his hips into her, steadily, with so much restraint he feels his legs trembling. She yelps against his lips when he reaches her deepest point, her muscles still tight around him, but he only grips her hip and starts hammering into her more, determined to fully fuck her open.

Her gasps and whines are swallowed by his tongue plunging into her mouth, as he tastes her, absorbs her. She seems a little distracted by the kiss, or too overwhelmed to properly acknowledge the pain anymore. She even wraps her arms around his neck and throws herself against him, and he allows it, holds her in place, lets her bury her face in the crook of his neck while he pistons his cock in and out of her, slowly finding it easier and easier to sink into her warmth.

She's that pliant thing in his arms, perched on the edge of the counter, a tiny body to use for his own needs, and she still seems to lean into it, into him, clinging to him, warm little breaths against his neck. He groans when her walls clench around him, squeezing his cock, in a different way than just protest. It's almost intentional. He wraps both arms around her, holds her pressed to his chest, while his pelvis smacks into her with fervor, need, hunger, back and forth, fast and hard and deep.

He can feel her tears on his skin, hot and wet, but not as hot and wet as when she presses her mouth to his pulse, muffling her noises, a little self-indulgent gesture while he takes what he wants without mercy, her own needs shining through as she starts sucking on his skin. He groans, grips her tighter, moves even faster, it's a whirlwind of sensations, his head spinning, his cock throbbing inside her, her cunt gripping him as needily as she grips him.

It's his rapid heartbeat in his ears, the wet slapping of skin against skin, lewd squelches every time he plunges deep into her, their breaths loud and rough, and he's right on the edge, so close to losing it all, when he rips her off him, grunting animalistically when he pushes her down on her back, her wide eyes glistening, his hand shaking when he grips the hem of the hoodie and pulls it up to expose her fluttering stomach.

He can barely contain himself, he's so fucking close, his balls tight, cock rock hard as he slips it from her warmth, grips it with a force (ignoring the thin layer of blood on it), and it's barely a few seconds before he comes with a deep growl, shooting his load onto her pure skin, watching breathlessly how her fingers sink into the fabric of her (his) hoodie and hold it up, letting him soil her slender torso.

He braces on his arms, head sunken between his shoulders, breathing hard, chest heaving, spent cock resting on her pelvis, twitching, leaking the last drops onto her skin.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees her hand moving, and he freezes when he sees her dragging her finger over her stomach, gathering his cum, before she brings the same finger to her lips, licking it up. He leans back, staring at her, feeling a new wave of excitement rushing down into his groin as he watches her clean herself up, tasting him, taking every single drop he gave her. His head is fully spinning now.

Once she's done, he straightens up fully, steps back, puts his hands under her arms to hoist her off the counter. She immediately goes down on her knees in front of him, and his hoarsely whispered “Clean.” has barely left his mouth when she is already on him, her little tongue lapping around his length. He grips her shoulders, inhales deeply, tries to calm his racing heart. She's so eager to lick up any excess cum, even puts his tip into her mouth and sucks on him hard, and he has to pull her off him when he feels himself twitching.

She stands up, looking at him with her cheeks bright red, that little thing buried in his big hoodie, her hair messy, lips swollen, eyes glowing, pupils still dilated. He knows she didn't come, he finished too quickly, but that doesn't seem to bother her. His hands find her face, rub at the corners of her mouth, before he bends down and kisses her softly. “Good girl,” he whispers, staring into her eyes, watching her reaction to his praise, how she bites her lip, smiles shyly, blushes even more.

He gives her another forehead kiss and straightens up, rolling his shoulders, before he pulls his pants back up and tucks his dick away. Without another word, he grabs her wrist, hidden under the long sleeve, and drags her around the kitchen island, slips onto a bar stool and lifts her up onto his thigh effortlessly.

She leans into him, fingers fidgeting with the hem of the hoodie in her lap, while he pulls the bags of takeout closer to him. Upon seeing the food he's putting in front of her (mostly finger food like fries, chicken wings, nuggets, bread sticks, chips, easy things to grab while on the go – he really has to put in more effort to feed her properly in the future), he can hear the low rumble of her stomach, making him smirk.

Poor thing, living the entire day off the cum he made her swallow. A thing she blamed him for, but that's still better than nothing, right? And she clearly seemed to have a hunger for it too, with how she went down on him. Rubbing her back, he feeds her some fries, and she lets him, watching him with curious eyes as she chews.

It's another one of these strange moments, the peace after the storm, little innocent instances of domesticity that he really has to get used to, wants to get used to. It's a nice balance, one he knows she needs, one he didn't know he needed as well.

They keep eating in silence. She always waits for him to offer her a new bite, never takes something herself. This submissive little thing on his lap, big eyes on him, mesmerized, caught in his web. Blushes every time he shoots her a smile. He has her, body and soul, he feels it. His arm wrapped around her waist, hand heavy on her thighs, brushing against her fingers, he watches her, lured in by her innocent beauty. Maybe she has him too...

“So what did you do while I was gone?” he asks quietly, moving his grease covered finger along her bottom lip. Her tongue darts out, hesitant, licking along his fingertip.

“Looked out the window,” she mumbles, focused on his finger. “Watched the cars go by, or tried to. They're so tiny from up here...”

He huffs a laugh, grabbing another fry. “You really had no desire to play around a little?”

She blushes deeply, averts her eyes, shakes her head.

“No? Are you afraid of my toys?”

She purses her lips, shrugs her shoulders. “I... I just don't know how to... use them...”

“Really, baby? After all the sex we've had you don't know how to push a dildo up your cunt?” He shakes his head, exhaling loudly as he shifts her on his lap.

“It... it's not the same,” she mutters under her breath, sinking into herself a little, squirming in embarrassment.

His hand moves along her neck, fingers teasing against her throat, before he grabs her chin and makes her look at him. “You prefer my cock, huh?” he teases with a smirk, meeting her big eyes. She blinks, tries to look away again. He grips her jaw harder. “Come on, don't be coy...”

She inhales sharply when she looks at him, swallowing against his hand. “I... I think so...”

“Say it,” he says, staring her down.

She sucks in another breath in clear discomfort. “I... I prefer... your... your cock...” she whispers barely audible.

He leans down, pulls her chin up, captures her mouth for a short but deep kiss. Sighing contently, he leans back, brushing his lips against her nose. “Flattering, really,” he says and smiles at her as he sits up straighter again. “But you know, I cannot entertain you all the fucking time,” he adds, watching her as she bites her lip. “And you have to learn to prepare yourself for me...”

His hand moves along her neck, slips into her hair, before he twists his fingers around the soft strands. She gasps as he pulls her head back a little.

“I'll teach you how to use them...” he whispers, his eyes wandering over her flushed face, already imagining stuffing her holes, seeing that look of shame and arousal filling her pretty eyes. She'll probably cry too, and he can't wait to see that, hear her little mewls, hold her down as she squirms and fights the sensations he's going to show her.

But he has to wait. Even if patience isn't his strong suit. He lets go of her hair to caress her scalp, licks his lips as he watches her. Then he leans past her and grabs a few more fries, feeding her casually as if not already planning out the rest of the night.

Once most of the food is gone and she's that happily humming thing on his lap, leaning against him, fed and content, he holds her for another moment, before easily picking her up and setting her down on the counter. She watches him curiously when he stands up, he only ruffles her hair and walks to the fridge, grabs two small bottles of water and rummages through the bags he's brought.

She frowns when he returns to her and hands her one of the bottles, sets the other down next to her, before he fidgets with the little box in his hands, then presents the pill to her. “Take this,” he tells her, waiting for her small fingers to scrape over his palm as she picks it up hesitantly. Once she does, he takes a look at his watch, memorizes the time, and watches her put the pill on her tongue before she brings the water to her lips and swallows hard.

Another thing he has to be patient about, for her birth control to take root, even though thinking about filling her up to the brim until she's leaking from her puffy little pussy is occupying a large portion of his mind right now.

He exhales loudly, his hand on her cheek as she parts her lips to show him her empty mouth. “Good girl,” he coos, giving her a strained smile and a quick forehead kiss. “Ready for a little training session?” he then offers with a wink. He knows she isn't, but he picks her up anyway, doesn't wait for her reply, takes what he wants as usual.

Carrying her to the bedroom, she seems to make herself intentionally heavier, molding into his arms, leaning against his chest, eyes closed, breathing deeply. Poor thing. She has to know by now he isn't done with her yet.

“Go make yourself ready for bed,” he tells her once he sets her down and she reluctantly unfurls from his hold. Nodding, she follows the order and vanishes into the bathroom while he slips into his closet and changes out of his work-out clothes into something more comfortable.

She's still washing up when he rummages through the nightstand to gather the tools he'll need. It's a large assortment of different things, but he picks the ones she might not be as intimidated by, even picks the brightest colors for the most part. The quiet tapping of her footsteps sounds behind him, and he turns around, squaring his shoulders before he extends a hand to her. She's still wearing his hoodie.

“Raise your arms,” he whispers after he's pulled her towards him. She does, watches him while chewing on her bottom lip. He holds her gaze as he moves his hands down to the hem of the hoodie and pushes up the fabric, palms slowly rubbing over her bare skin until he pulls it over her head and throws it behind her. She's shivering, instinctively covering herself up.

He lets her, gives her the illusion of safety, allows her some modesty. He's seen every inch of her by now, and she's still shy about being naked in front of him. Cute. Innocent. A smile curls his lips as he leans in and grabs her face, eyes boring into hers, before he closes his lips around hers for a relatively chaste kiss. She kisses back almost immediately, her minty tongue extending to meet his, as she soaks up the gentle touches, her arms relaxing, hands finding his forearms.

Breaking the kiss with a sigh, he leans back, holds her face, watches her closely. Her eyes are big, but not frightful, pupils dilated. Perfectly pliant. His hands move to her shoulders, and he turns her carefully, making her face the bed and the array of sex toys he's lined up for her. He feels the shudder that crashes through her small body at the sight. Holding her upper arms with a firm grip, he leans in, rests his chin on her shoulder. She stiffens.

“I want you to choose,” he tells her quietly, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She's still biting her lip.

When he releases her, he gives her a gentle nudge, and she takes a step towards the bed, staring down at its contents. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he watches her, how her shaking hands move over the smaller and bigger items, before she picks up the smallest toy, a bright pink dildo, barely an inch in diameter, three inches long, thin and barely considered making a difference in his eyes. She's certainly taken way more before.

He scoffs, she flinches at the sound and turns to him, holding up the small item. “That one? Really?” he teases, holding up his pinky finger that has about the same dimensions. “Pick something bigger, sweetheart.”

She inhales deeply, looks back at the items, then chooses the second smallest thing. Of course. He sighs, steps past her and picks up a baby blue dildo, about one and a half inches wide and six inches long, shaped more lifelike than her pick. This'll do nicely, she can handle this for sure. He places the toy in her small hand. She stares at it, hesitantly closes her fingers around it.

“Now pick a butt plug,” he tells her, leaning back, resuming his watching stance behind her.

A tiny little whine escapes her, a mix between a sigh and a scoff or a wail? He isn't too sure. He knows she's not happy about this, but she'll have to learn. She takes her sweet time looking at all the different plugs. He has quite the collection he realizes. Metal ones, silicone ones, glass ones, small and tear-shaped, bigger and more rounded, cute bejeweled bases with thin necks and more practical ones formed like a handle, some are short, some are longer, some ribbed, smooth or made of balls pushed into a line.

She picks up the smallest metal one with a heart-shaped base. He sighs, and she drops it, a shiver running through her tense body. Her fingers glide over the line of toys as if she's waiting for his reaction. He smirks, lets her hand move up the bed towards the longer ones. He exhales loudly, and her hand stops, landing on a smooth silicone one, black, with a round base, thin neck and an elongated body, probably double the length she's had in her cute little butt before (aside from his cock of course). Progress.

He sees her swallowing when she picks it up. “Good choice,” he says with a wink as she turns to look up at him. He takes both toys from her hands and places them on the nightstand, then quickly gathers the rest of the items up and puts them back into the drawer. He considers grabbing the lube from the back of it, but then refrains. No need, he'll want her to remember this...

“Wait here,” he says, holding her gaze for a moment. She nods, frozen to the spot in front of the bed, chest rising and falling faster, arms stiff at her sides, hands balled up into fists, and he walks into the closet and grabs the floor-length mirror that he positions against the wall, facing the side of the bed. He meets her confused expression in the reflection.

Without explaining anything, he steps behind her, hands on her shoulders, before he quickly pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it towards where he discarded the hoodie. Then he sits down on the edge of the bed, far enough to allow her space between his legs, and pulls her towards him, one hand heavy on her stomach as he scoots her closer to him until her bare back meets his bare chest. She inhales deeply, a furrow between her eyebrows, her cheeks burning up.

Their eyes meet in the mirror. “I want you to see everything,” he whispers, leaning closer, brushing his lips against her ear. “Open your legs, baby.”

She stares at him, goosebumps rippling over her skin, but her thighs remain clamped together firmly. He gives her a few seconds, then his hand closes around her leg, long fingers almost completely encircling it as he slips them between her soft thighs. She bites her lip, her hands gripping at his wrist, but she stops protesting eventually, slowly allowing him to have a better view at her cute little cunt.

He kisses her earlobe, moving both his hands to her thighs to hold her wide open. She looks away, breathing harder. “Now show me how you would normally touch yourself...” he whispers, smiling when her breath hitches a little.

She's struggling, visibly struggling to make her hands move down to her sex, her cheeks flushed a deep red, lip worried between her teeth, a deep crease between her eyebrows. “I...” she stammers, breathing a little harder. “I don't –”

“Come on, darling,” he says almost softly, planting kisses along her neck, feeling the heat of her blush and her rapid pulse against his lips. “You can do so many things for me... but not this?”

She still hesitates, and he closes his eyes as his patience runs out. A yelp escapes her when he grips her wrist and forces her hand between her legs, eyes opening slowly as he meets her fearful gaze in the mirror.

“Touch yourself,” he orders, his voice low and quiet, bordering on angry. She whines a little, lips parted and quivering, tears shimmering in her wide eyes. She pushes hard against his hold but ultimately fails when he presses her hand down, his fingers guiding hers towards her folds. “I'm gonna take my hand away now. Show me what you can do...”

He does as he said, watching her closely. Her hand remains cupping her mound, her eyes fixed on her own reflection. He curls his fingers around her thighs, holding her wide open, waiting, trying to be patient, his nostrils flaring as he takes deep breaths to calm himself down.

And slowly she starts moving, bending her middle finger, rubbing slowly up and down her lower lips, a concentrated look on her flushed face. She's slow and uncoordinated, fingers shaking, her breaths labored but not from how she touches herself, more from embarrassment. She clearly has no idea what she's doing.

He inhales deeply, shaking his head. She looks up at the motion, meeting his dark gaze. “I... I'm sorry,” she mumbles, biting her lip. Without replying, he brings his hand back to hers, his long fingers hovering over her smaller ones. He slips them between hers and moves her hand higher, rubbing her palm over her heated skin. She flinches a little when he presses the heel of her hand against her clit, moves it in tight circles until her breaths turn even more frantic.

Then he lets go of her again, watching her. It takes her a few seconds before she repeats the motion he's shown her and another few until she realizes it's easier using her fingers. Two fingertips press against her sensitive nub, and she gasps when her thighs twitch at the sensation. Holding his gaze in the mirror, she rubs herself faster, lips parted, breaths rough. She increases the pace even further when he gives her an encouraging smile.

Soon she's panting between his legs, caged in by his thighs, held by his hands, observed by eager eyes as her small body shivers and convulses slightly. “That's it,” he coos softly. “Keep going... almost there...”

His words spur her on, and she moves her fingers faster, harder, against her clit, rubs through her glistening folds, up and down, teases between them. He feels his own heartbeat accelerating as she presses her back against his chest, anchors herself. He feels her thighs twitching uncontrollably against his hands.

She gasps and mewls, eyebrows furrowed, cheeks burning up, lips quivering. Her hand curls into a claw, thumb pressed to her clit, fingers digging into her soft lips, and he can see the slight hesitation when she pushes two fingers against her entrance. “Go on...” he whispers, watching her shudder when he leans closer. “Put those fingers where they belong...”

A little moan escapes her when she does, tiny fingers slipping deeper into her wet little pussy, and then she's just gone. Her head thrashes back against his shoulder, body spasming hard, thighs fighting against his grip to clamp together, while she slips her fingers in and out fast, as deep as they go, while her thumb prods her nub in frantic little motions. She stiffens when she comes, wailing quietly, squeezing her eyes shut, while he keeps watching her in the reflection, a tiny body overcome by pleasure with her fingers buried deep in her own sex.

“Good girl,” he praises when she comes down slowly, relaxing in his hold, breathing harder. He kisses her neck and feels her rapid heartbeat against his lips.

He gently grabs her wrist and pries her fingers out of herself. Her eyes flutter open, only a little as she turns her head and looks at him directly, licking her lips. He meets her hooded gaze and brings her hand up to her face, her small fingers glistening in her own juices. She freezes slightly when her own smell hits her nostrils, but he only smiles and moves her hand higher until it's hovering in front of his face.

She blushes an even deeper shade of red when he extends his tongue and licks along her middle finger, sucking the tip into his mouth, tasting her sweet essence. A hum escapes him. She watches him closely, curiously. When he brings her hand to her lips, she opens her mouth almost automatically, and he smiles at the submission, before he feels his cock stirring in his pants as she licks up along her own index finger, tasting herself, inhaling deeply as she does so.

He lets go of her hand and grips her chin, turns her head more towards him to capture her glistening lips for a quick but deep kiss. She gasps into it, shifting against him until she drapes her legs over his thigh, her small hands, one of them wet, pressing into his stomach. His arm wraps around her, pulls her closer, before he leans back a little, looking at her with a dark smirk.

“We're not done yet, darling,” he whispers, and while she frowns in confusion, he leans over her and grabs the toys she's chosen earlier. She stiffens immediately when he puts the baby blue dildo into her hands, placing the plug to the side for now. He rearranges her between his legs, facing the mirror, his hands going back to her thighs to pry them open.

She lets out a quiet whine when he exposes her glistening cunt, her hands shaking as they grip the toy harder. He watches her for a moment, observes the struggle as she turns it between her fingers. With how tense his stomach is, there's no more patience within him. Snatching the dildo from her hands, making her wince, he grips her throat with his other hand and leans her back against him, her chin tilted up, eyes wide in the reflection.

“Do you want to be called a good girl again?” he whispers, lips brushing against her ear. She nods frantically. “Then behave like one.” She swallows against his palm, breathing loudly through her nose. “Open your mouth.”

Again, she hesitates, and he closes his hand around her neck until she obliges, parting her lips, tongue out flat, her chest rising and falling faster against his arm. He brings the blue toy to her mouth, prods the lifelike tip against her upper lip, then slips it a little deeper. She lets out a muffled whine, but as soon as his dark eyes land on hers in the mirror, she stiffens, holds his gaze, slowly closes her lips around the object and moves her tongue against it, hollowing her cheeks slightly.

He pushes it deeper, fingers holding it tightly against her, and she flinches when he hits the back of her throat. His hand on her neck holds her in place, ignoring the shudders of her body, as he starts moving it back and forth, in and out, coating it in her own saliva. Her hands shoot up and close around his wrist, fingernails sinking into his skin, but it only fuels him, makes him move the toy faster, deeper, and when she gags around it, he tightens his grip while he watches the tears rolling out of the corners of her eyes.

His cock stirs at the sight. Her head is heavy against his shoulder, her body jerking into him the more he teases the back of her throat. The pleading look in her eyes is mesmerizing. He stops his motions, holds the dildo right at the edge of her throat, squeezes her neck, stares at her. She blinks her tears away, a deep crease between her eyebrows. A smile creeps up his lips.

Pulling the dildo back, he watches her relax immediately, melting into him, taking deep breaths through her nose. A strand of saliva connects her lips and the item when he puts it back into her shaking hand. She uses her free one to wipe at her mouth, then swallows the excess spit and licks her lips. Her small fingers close around the base of the wet toy.

Instead of waiting for her to get her bearings, he hooks his hands under her knees and lifts her legs up, makes her put her feet on his knees, and while he looks closely at her exposed pussy, he notices the deep blush still finding ways to make her skin look even more flushed. He nestles her between his legs, holding her, watching her, a silent “Come on already...” in his impatient gaze.

She brings the blue dildo to her wet folds, hands shaking badly, her whole body tense while faced with a task he really doesn't think is that hard. She never fights him when he puts his cock into her, not much anyway, but seeing this kind of hesitation makes him wonder why she's so shy to use toys.

It's either the humiliation to do it in front of him or she really never felt the urge to seek her own pleasure. Must be her submissive nature to let others do the work for her instead of doing it herself. As if she can't get any more perfect. Well, there is still room for improvement, but he's certain she'll adjust just fine once that first barrier is broken down.

The toy looks bigger in her small hand, but it's nothing compared to his straining erection throbbing in the confines of his underwear. She should be thankful he lets her practice with something smaller. His hands tighten around her thighs, holding them up, his arms caging her in while he looks over her head, so close to completely losing his patience.

But then she pushes the tip of the object against her entrance, and with how he holds her, she's spread wide open, and it slips right in. A little yelp escapes her, but he only smiles. She catches the movement of his lips and stares back at him, eyes wide, still glistening, lips parted and quivering, as if waiting for his praise. But he denies it for now, she's not done yet.

And so she starts moving the toy in and out, slow little nudges, until half of it is covered in her juices. “Deeper,” he growls into her ear, watching her like a hawk. She bites her lip and grips the base harder, pushes it deeper, body jolting against his when she meets a little resistance. “Keep going...” She does, slowly, hesitantly, completely unsure what she's doing. His breaths grow louder, more impatient, the urge to grip the toy and shove it in and out of her himself overwhelmingly strong.

But she has to learn. Slowly, she adjusts, her fingers cramped around the base as she keeps moving it in and out, always a little faster, while her breaths quicken and her thighs twitch in his hold. It's beautiful to watch how the discomfort on her face turns into bliss, how her lips quiver and part more with each flick of her wrist, how her eyebrows furrow before they relax, how her eyes roll back as she frantically plunges the blue toy into her reddened pussy, the squelching sounds telling him how wet she is, how aroused this makes her after all.

Little mewls and moans escape her as she presses her back into his chest, grounds herself against him, feet digging into his knees, toes curling around them. Her legs spasm into his hands, the urge to close them, press them hard together, is the last fight she fights before she succumbs to the sensation and cries out, stilling the toy inside her as she convulses against him, her stomach fluttering as she comes.

His eyes are fixated on her reflection, her small hand relaxes, slowly pulls the toy out of her clenching cunt, her walls clinging to the soft silicone, drenched in her juices. There's a little popping sound when it slips out, her pussy gaping for a moment, her wetness seeping out slowly. She's panting now, meeting his gaze in the mirror. He takes the soaked dildo from her shaking hand and brings his lips to her cheek.

“Well done,” he whispers, watching her shiver at his words, her pupils dilating a little more. “Now let's put this where it belongs,” he says, and she relaxes at first when he leans over her, but then stiffens immediately when he shifts her on his thighs, hooking his arm around her leg as he brings the toy back to her glistening folds.

“Wait... what...” she stammers, but he ignores her and pushes the blue thing right back between her clenching walls. She yelps, squirms against him, he doesn't care. He nudges it in all the way until only the flat base pokes out, and when she tries to grab at it, pull it back, he slaps her hands away and cups his own palm over her mound, holding the toy in place.

“You need to get used to having something inside you, baby,” he tells her, meeting her flustered gaze. “You'll sleep with this tonight.”

She frowns, biting her lip, writhing uncomfortably against him. He leans over her, hand still on her sex, feeling the toy nudging against his palm as she tries to push it back out. His gaze is dark and intense, and she freezes, eyes wide. He opens the bottom drawer of the bedside table and rummages through the contents. The cuffs are clinking against each other, the ropes are soft against his fingers, before he finds what he's looking for.

The leather straps gleam in the dim light. She's fallen silent and still at the sight. “It's a harness,” he explains. “It'll keep the dildo in place overnight.” It's a mixture of a chastity belt and a harness normally used for strap-ons, but he doesn't have a use for either of those, just a means to help her adjust. It's basically a very rigid leather thong, and she already knows those.

She lets out a pathetic whimper when he starts pulling the straps up her legs with one hand before he nudges her to stand, his other hand still pressing between her thighs. She's shaky on her feet, grabs his shoulder for support as she watches him fasten the straps until the contraption sits snug around her hips, the thick leather band between her legs keeping the toy from slipping out, running all the way from below her belly button to between her ass cheeks.

He moves her hips playfully, testing the device. Everything stays in place. Good. “How does it feel?” he asks, looking up at her as she stands between his legs, this tiny thing with her big eyes, overwhelmed yet again.

“Full,” she whispers, and he smiles softly and pats her fluttering stomach.

“You'll get used to it,” he says, his big hands rubbing up and down her sides.

His eyes fall onto the plug still lying beside him, and he hesitates. Both at once might be too much for her right now, so he sighs and puts it back on the nightstand. Her eyes follow the motions, and there's relief on her tear-soaked face.

He looks at her, waits for her to meet his gaze. She licks her lips, the quick motion of her tongue making his stomach tense up. “You can only open this if you have to use the toilet, understood?” he says, his fingers gliding over the buckle sitting a little above her pubic bone. “And the toy goes back in right after. No cheating, or I'll have to punish you, won't I?” She nods, he tilts his head, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, sir,” she replies quickly, worrying her lip back between her teeth.

He smiles, pulling her closer until she sits on his thigh, wincing when the toy inside her moves with her motions. Patting her legs, he watches her, then raises a hand to wipe at her wet cheek. “You're doing great, sweetheart,” he says softly, tucking a strand of silky hair behind her ear. Looking at him, she leans against his shoulder, seeking his warmth, his praise. So eager. So innocent.

He wraps his arms around her and holds her, pressing his lips to the top of her head. One moment. He gives her one moment of reprieve, a little bit of comfort, before he can't ignore his own urges anymore. Without another word, he grabs her shoulders and makes her stand again, eyes on her, her surprise evident on her flushed face.

“Kneel,” he says, watching with growing adoration how she flinches, then immediately follows the order and goes down between his legs, hands gripping her own thighs as she bites her lip, shifting a little until she finds a comfortable position. He can only imagine how the hard thing inside her makes her feel right now. Not that he cares.

He grabs her chin, pulls her closer, while his other hand pushes down his pants and underwear to release his throbbing erection. She swallows, her eyes flicking to his groin, before she looks back at him, awaiting the next command. And it's that moment that he realizes he may care after all.

This girl. How she's kneeling there, so obedient despite her own discomfort, her big eyes on him, waiting, ignoring the state of her body, forcing herself to remain calm, breathing through whatever goes on in that pretty head of hers. This fucking girl. After everything he's done to her, took from her, everything she had to endure, everything he made her do, a weekend full of abuse, she is still kneeling there, looking at him, waiting, wanting to please.

She's so fucking perfect...

He inhales deeply, shifts closer to the edge of the bed, one hand on the fabric of his pants, the other moving to caress her face. For a moment he's fighting the quite obvious urges that rage inside him, that make his cock bounce angrily against his lower stomach. It's a primal instinct to force himself on her, a need to be satisfied, a desire to dominate, but as he looks at her, meeting her patient gaze, there's something else rushing through his veins.

A need to protect, to hold, to comfort her. Something he's never felt before. And it's scaring him more than he likes to admit. Because he isn't afraid of anything in this cutthroat world, he's adapted to it, he's become the one to fear. That's the way it's always been, for many years, ever since he discovered this side of himself. To have this girl of all people make him pause in following his desires... it's strange. Unreal.

It's the doubts whirling through his head that make him stand up suddenly, causing her to flinch away, but he just hooks his hands under her arms and pulls her up and against his chest, embracing her tightly, feeling her small body shivering against his, her hesitant hands finding their way to his back as she returns the hug. He presses his lips to her hair, inhaling deeply, taking in her sweet aroma, the innocence oozing out of her like something that's messing with his senses, clouding his mind, a silent death nestling in his bones.

With her in his arms, he steps out of his sweatpants and underwear and climbs onto the bed, turns off the lights before wrapping the covers around their bodies as he lies down with her, pulling her against him when he rolls onto his back. She settles on his chest, a warm wet cheek pressed to his shoulder, a small hand flat on his stomach, her leg automatically hooking over his thigh as she moves closer to him. An instinct, for her to search his warmth, for him to hold her against him.

Despite it all, it feels familiar.

And he would have settled for it, fell asleep like this, but then he feels her moving, pushing off the blanket, slipping from under his arm to place chaste kisses down his torso with her hand slowly inching closer to his groin.

“What are you doing?” he mutters. She's never initiated this before. Only ever did what he told her.

“Y-you... you wanted me to... do this, didn't you?” she whispers into his skin, looking up from under her lashes as she rests her chin on his hipbone.

He considers it, but then he shakes his head. “No,” he replies quietly, grabbing her arm to pull her back up. “Just use your hand...”

She stiffens when he puts her back on his chest, a crease between her eyebrows. Resuming her position, leg hooking around his thigh once more (he can feel the cool leather of her harness pressing into his skin), she moves her hand down his abdomen and blindly fumbles to grab his cock. Her fingers close around it, as best as they can (so fucking small), and start moving up and down his shaft.

He relaxes into the bed, inhaling deeply, one arm behind his head, the other rubbing along her back. She tilts her chin up to look at him, biting her lip, watching him closely. Blushing deeply when he meets her gaze. While she works her hand around him, the pressure of her fist getting stronger the longer she does it, more confident, and he smiles at her which makes the corners of her lips twitch as well.

What a cute little creature.

Exhaling loudly, he leans in, the arm around her pulling her up a little more until he can capture her mouth for a heated kiss. She gasps into it but soon mirrors his movements, kissing him back with the same hunger, her tongue flicking around his, a sensual dance while the grip of her fingers and the flick of her wrist get harder and faster, causing him to groan into her mouth.

He feels the telltale tension settling in his stomach, the tightening of his balls, his cock twitching in her hold, but before he allows himself to tumble over the edge, he angles his leg up, making her flinch when his thigh presses between her legs and against the harness holding the toy inside her.

“Grind on my leg,” he tells her between kisses, voice rough with impending release and the desire to give her something back.

She shifts on top of him as she starts moving her hips back into his leg, whimpers falling from her lips that he tries to swallow with eager flicks of his tongue. She's warm against his skin, warm and wet, her body shuddering, the hand around his cock trying to keep up while her other hand hooks around his arm for support. He holds her while she presses her pelvis into his thigh, over and over again, her breath quickening, mingling with his.

Her eyes are hooded and glistening, cheeks burning, and he pauses his kisses and watches her, pressing his forehead to hers to stabilize her. Little mewls escape her, her thighs clamping down around his as she nears her peak. The thought of her humping his leg with that baby blue dildo stuck inside her while her walls probably clench and unclench around it, the heat gathering inside her with nowhere to go, makes him growl in his throat.

He moves his hand down and closes it around her smaller one, helping her along as she tries to jerk him off. His motions are much rougher, and it doesn't take him long to unload right against her stomach, spurt after hot spurt, grunting loudly as he feels the tension dissolving into pleasure. “Fuck,” he groans and presses his mouth to hers, savoring the warmth of her tongue moving against his, her sweet taste.

His leg jerks against her, and she cries out against his lips, succumbing to the shudders of her small body, uncontrollable little spasms as yet another orgasm crashes through her. The wetness that makes it past the toy stuck inside her seeps into his skin. He lets go of his spent cock and brings her hand with him, rolling her onto her side before he does the same, facing her, holding her hand tightly in his as he watches her.

She has her eyes closed, breathing heavier, slowly coming down from her high. He leans in and kisses her damp forehead. A little mewl escapes her, and he pulls her closer to him, curtly noticing the stickiness on her skin, but he doesn't care about cleaning up now. He's too content. It doesn't matter. Inhaling deeply, he rests his chin on top of her head as she buries her face in his chest. His free arm grabs the covers and pulls them back around them before he lets his hand rest heavy on her lower back, holding her against him.

“My good little girl,” he whispers into her hair, feeling a shiver crashing through her. “Sleep now. You did so good.”

She relaxes against him, deep breaths fanning over his skin. He closes his eyes and leans into her, slowly falling asleep with her hand still braced between his long fingers. He wonders how he was ever able to sleep without this tiny warm thing in his embrace.

48 hours. A chance encounter. A decision on a whim. And he's not regretted a single second. She's perfect, and he knows he did the right thing. He'll never let her go ever again.

EIGHT 🟥 NINE 🟥 TEN

End notes: I don't even wanna try to recap the weekend these two had, it feels unrealistic to be honest, but that's the fun with fiction, isn't it? 48 hours of almost nonstop-fuckery? Sure! Why not? Anything goes!

So. We have one more chapter to seal the deal, so to speak, (for now). Let's look at this as if it's the finale of a season, because there will be more! Sir and Darling's story is not yet done!

(Btw: a little reminder that the whole concept of inches is very foreign to me (give me centimeters >_>), but I tried to keep it universal for you guys, so if the dimensions of these toys feel strange to you, that might be it.)

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

TAG LIST: @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN

ELEVEN TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

[animefreak1145]

•´¯`•» 🎀 𝐼𝓃𝓉𝓇🍬𝒹𝓊𝒸𝓉𝒾❁𝓃 🎀 »•`¯´•

😘𝓗𝓒’𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓓𝓲𝓿𝓪 𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓵: 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 1😘

Bell decodes with different colored glitter gel pens. ✨🖋️

—Each color means something unique in regards to the necessary information to decipher, encrypt, decrypt along with any necessary information. 😌That’s at least what Bell says when Hudson complains with a twitching brow and a vein in his forehead. 😇 He never gets the bigger picture like Bell does 🙄

In the same papers of her work, Bell does random doodles of “R+B”, hearts, cigarettes, smoke from the cigarette in a shape of a heart, and shades. 🤭

—She also has every “i” and “j” with a heart instead of a dot if she’s decoding English. “ö” “ü” “ä” “i” and “j” in German. Sadly, there is no possible hearts when she writes in Russian. 😔 But she writes pretty Russian clear cursive instead to make up for it 🥰✨

No leaving the safehouse till Bell’s nails are fully dried. 🙄💅 No chips will be created nor warbled polish on her nail that looks like someone took a shit on it. 😤 Thankfully she’s time efficient and plans accordingly if it’s for a mission. If anyone complains or is not willing to wait, be prepared for a whiny complaining Bell the ride. Everyone has learned their lesson the first time, however. 😌💅

—Bell has a special polish ordered overseas where it’s infused with snake venom. 😌💅 If someone gets slapped by her with her perfect almond shaped nails—they’ll surely get a scratch and feel the effects of the venom quickly with a burning sensation. 😇🤭 Nothing like another’s screams at how perfect you do your nails. 💅✨

Bell gives everyone health tips in any way, shape or form in every conversation if possible. She’ll squeeze something related into it unprompted but that’s because she’s just looking out for everyone 😌😇 Including Russ 😍😍😍

Speaking of health, Bell absolutely needs her beauty sleep in the correct amount of hours each and every time. 😤 She will not have eye bags. Anything that needs to be done can be done the next day 😌💯

She randomly goes outside of the safehouse to tan with a bikini on in a makeshift chair she made with the pallets and chair cushions. She needs to keep her tan line 💅 It doesn’t matter how cold it is, she’s quite capable. 😌

—it also gives her an excuse to either ask or “borrow” Adler’s jacket to warm her up. 😏😘 She also likes to steal either his or Hudson’s shades while she tans in between decoding. 😎😜Adler knows her play early on with a roll of his eyes and starts to refuse, making sure he has her own jacket ready on hand. He’s immune to Bell’s pouts 😭 but not immune to her other numerous plans for him to fall for her. 😌😍💁‍♀️

All her plans are laid out in her journal that looks like she “edited” with pink glitter and cut outs you can find in crafting stores that won’t break such as shades 🕶️, lipstick kisses💋 , lipstick💄, nails 💅 and nail polish at the front titled: “Classified”. 💯 Inside there’s a 15 step listed plan on the different scenarios Bell has for him to fall for her or make a move on her.

—Adler found it while snooping around her hotel room, read it, and slowly put it back and left the room. (He read that Bell has already done 1–6 of her plan 🤭😘) He doesn’t know why he’s starting to feel suspicious of the high maintenance terrorist that was clearly from high society based on his observations, but he can’t shake it after the Berlin Wall mission. 😌 Russ is so astute and sharp 😍🥰😘

Bell has a voice kink. 😍😍😍 Only Russ’s tho 😤 She loves how often Russ says her name at the end of each sentence practically. His voice sounds so sexy when he says “We’ve got a job to do” too! 🥰🥰🥰 What a man! 😘

▚

▞

▚

A/N: More HC’s to come! This is just the set up. I’ll have drabbles here and there. Remember this is for fun and more information will be revealed in this format along with drabbles. 😂

I also wanna try to show what Bell’s feed would look like if she wasn’t born so early. This Bell would’ve loved TikTok and Insta. And a menace on Twitter, based on @makeyourpeacenow own observation. I just need to figure out how to do it. 💀

Tag List: @tr1ppylady @parkeepingparker @weirdoartist21 @gojocat247 @mayaibnlaahad @dallmaistir @salvija @kylezkie4adler @asaltryefl @stupid-stinky @aurora-windu @zachfoxx121 @pyxis-stellae @makeyourpeacenow @obsessedgremlin @butterfly-stitches @djloveyou3000

[lavendercharm]

Linger, Chapter 5: Kiss With A Fist/Human Nature

A/N:

Ya'll. Writing this chapter felt like a marathon. But I think I'm ultimately very happy with it. Please let me know what you think!

This chapter is a bit longer, and I think it deserved to be named after two songs because of that. "Kiss With A Fist" by Florence + The Machine definitely fits the first half of this chapter and was one of the first songs I added to my playlist when writing this story, so I knew I wanted to use it for the big public confrontation.

The vibes toward the end are different. I discovered this song earlier this week and haven't been able to stop listening to it, so maybe I'm just reaching to try and justify including it lol. But "Human Nature" by Barrie is what I decided to use for the second half of this. Cause they're spitting facts when they say "Human nature doesn't always come easy" lmfao.

This is far from the end of this story, but it may be a second before you hear from me, depending on how busy the next few weeks are. I say that - watch me turn around and post something this weekend lol.

Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me thus far. I love you and I'm so grateful to know you're along for the ride.

---

Summary: From the moment you meet her, you can't stand Melissa Schemmenti.

Warnings: Strong Language

---

Barbara Howard did not take days off. It was only recently that she allowed herself her first mental health day, and while she could see the benefits, she had been eager to get back to her classroom, her students, her best friend, and even her coworkers. The life of a teacher was unpredictable, and the life of a teacher at Abbott Elementary came with its own unique set of challenges, but Barbara had seen a lot in her decades of teaching. With some hard work, support from her fellow teachers, and the grace of God himself, she had seen and survived it all. Barbara Howard could conquer anything thrown her way.

However, if Barbara had the magical gift of foresight, she might have chosen Monday morning to take her second mental health day in her entire history at Abbott. 

As it was, Barbara could not see into the future, and so she entered the teacher’s lounge at 6:30 AM, on the dot. She claimed her usual spot, made herself a cup of coffee, and began sorting through her lesson plans for the week. She enjoyed her few moments of serenity in the lounge prior to the arrival of her more talkative coworkers. It wasn’t unusual for Melissa to arrive a bit later, especially on a Monday, so Barbara thought nothing of her absence. She politely greeted Janine and Jacob as they entered together; she did the same for Gregory shortly after. As the three younger teachers gathered at their table and discussed their weekends, Barbara continued her work, occasionally reacting to what she overheard. And when you entered the lounge, your first time visiting in the morning, Barbara was mildly surprised, but she shot you a warm smile all the same. She noticed you seemed to be a bit tense, but she chalked it up to the fact that you were still very new. 

Melissa had talked her ear off about you last Monday, of course, explaining your tardiness and the shots you’d taken at her about her age. When Barb pressed her for details about your confrontation and what you’d said to each other, she simply said, “I took care of business, a’right?” 

While Barbara agreed it was unprofessional of you to arrive late, she also knew Melissa better than anyone else in Abbott did; she knew Melissa could take things too far. Melissa was as passionate as they came, which meant she was one of the best teachers at the school. On the flip side, she also had a short fuse. Barbara knew she didn’t have all of the details, but she didn’t think much of it - you were a sub, after all. She expected she’d never actually meet you. 

So when you arrived in the lounge for lunch the day after your explosive argument, she was shocked. While skeptical of you, she couldn’t help but admire your tenacity. You’d come face to face with the wrath of Melissa Schemmenti and still returned to Abbott. You’d introduced yourself, and as far as Barbara could tell, you were perfectly polite and well mannered. The displeasure and hostility radiating off of Melissa was felt by everyone in the lounge, but aside from giving her close friend a pointed look, Barbara chose to ignore it. 

You’d continued showing up the rest of the week, greeting Barbara every day before taking a seat with Janine and Jacob, as well as Gregory, occasionally. The younger teachers seemed to have taken an instant liking to you, the four of you sharing stories from previous schools or discussing the latest movie releases. You’d even had a good-natured exchange with Ava one morning. The principal had leant against the corner with her phone and talked you through her “roster”, whatever that meant. Barbara was sure she didn’t want to know. 

Barbara observed how seamlessly you integrated into Abbott’s social circles - with the obvious exception of the red head who always sat to her right in the lounge. Melissa pretended you didn't exist, which would have been fine if it wasn’t the elephant in the room. Your first day in the lounge, Janine had tried to talk to Melissa about you. She’d turned to Melissa with a huge grin on her face and said, “Man, Melissa, you’re so lucky to have such an awesome sub as your aide.” 

Melissa had glanced at Janine over the rim of her cat-eye glasses, and in a sharp tone, retorted, “What sub?” That’s all it took for everyone in the room to grasp her unspoken message: If you value your life, drop it. The only reaction Barbara saw was a sharp flash of your eyes before you turned your back to the older woman and called Janine over, changing the subject. 

But last Friday, Melissa caught up with Barbara after the school day ended and explained that you’d just given her two VIP tickets to the Eagles game on Sunday. If there was anything that would help Melissa forgive your transgressions, it was that. Once again, Barbara found herself impressed with you - you took the initiative to make amends and you’d knocked it out of the park. She was happy for her friend. She’d told Melissa, “Just think of how much you’ll be able to accomplish now that you and that young woman can work together. Now, you and Gary go enjoy that ball game.” 

A week after your first morning at Abbott, all of the water was seemingly under the bridge, and the staff room could breathe easy again. No one paid much mind to the anxiety radiating off of you. For the most part, the energy in the room was calming as the day began. 

The sudden CRACK of the door slamming into the shelves violently ripped the room’s occupants out of their morning zen. It was enough to cause everyone to nearly jump out of their skin. Heads whipped in the direction of the doorway as Melissa’s furious form charged into the lounge. Her attention was initially on Barb, but as she opened her mouth to speak, her eyes locked on you. The blush of fury rose instantly in her cheeks. She ripped her bag off of her shoulder and tossed it in the direction of her regular table, nearly hitting Barbara in the process, and as her eyes narrowed, you could practically see the steam rolling off of her as she hissed out, “You.” 

And that’s when Barbara knew any chance of a peaceful morning had gone out the window.

—----------------------

As your weekend began, it didn’t take long for it to sink in that you were well and truly fucked. You completely failed to consider the consequences of your little scheme. There’s no way in hell Melissa wouldn’t be out for blood at the start of the next school week. The smartest thing to do would be to never return to Abbott, move to a new city across the country, and change your legal name. You went back and forth between chastising yourself for being ridiculous, and being so ridden with anxiety that you couldn’t eat. You felt so stupid - what did you think would happen? 

Ultimately, you reached a point where you couldn’t handle the crushing weight of what you’d done alone, so you’d spilled to Ava. Her response had been about the least reassuring thing she could have said.

You did WHAT? I didn’t know you were crazy like that! You’re gonna die girl. I’m not even joking. We gotta go out this weekend, cause it’s your last one alive. I’ll make sure you have fun tho. Do you own any latex?

After refusing Ava’s offers to make your last days on earth worthwhile, you spent most of the weekend drowning in anxiety and imagining how Melissa would bring about your demise. You decided you had to do your best to prepare. You literally couldn’t afford to not go back to Abbott, especially after getting your headlights repaired Saturday afternoon. Under the anxiety, you could feel the ember of your rage, still pulsing with a red-hot glow, so you decided to grasp ahold of it. What you’d done was shitty, sure. But compared to smashing headlights? All you’d done was get even.

Seeing as you couldn’t afford to uproot your whole life and leave Philadelphia, the next most logical thing to do was to never be caught alone in a room with Melissa ever again. You were pretty sure this was something you could pull off - you figured you had two weeks left at Abbott tops, and as long as you had kids or other teachers in the same room, you would have witnesses who could recount your violent death should Melissa murder you. 

This is what caused you to arrive at Abbott on Monday morning a full hour and a half before you needed to be there. You’d dithered in your car for about fifteen minutes, debating driving away and then talking yourself out of it. Eventually, you braved the outdoors, darting into the building and down the hallways as quickly as you could. You practically sprinted past Melissa’s classroom door - the lights were out, but even though you logically knew she wasn’t in yet, your mind conjured a vivid image of her jumping out of the shadows like a monster in waiting. You slowed down and tried to control your breathing as you entered the teacher’s lounge, and you were immediately soothed to see how many people were already there. Even better, Melissa was absent. 

As you passed Barbara, you gave her a hesitant smile. You actually liked Barbara, as much as you can like someone who’s polite and whom you don’t know very well. You figured it may be the last chance you get - surely the woman would turn against you once Melissa told her what you’d done. Janine, Jacob, and Gregory were all sitting at your usual table, and after preparing your morning coffee, you quickly situated yourself in a seat, thankfully facing the door to the lounge.

“Hey!” Janine said, shooting you her adorable, slightly gapped-toothed smile. “How was your weekend?”

“Oh, uh… it was fine,” you said, your eyes darting toward the door as it opened. Not Melissa . “Mostly caught up on chores… had to get some work done to my car, fun stuff like that.”

“Car problems are tough,” Gregory said, spooning a bite out of his bowl of plain oatmeal. “What was wrong with it?”

“Uh…” you hesitated, unsure if you wanted to share what was really wrong. It would inevitably lead to questions and the last thing you wanted was for everyone to know the details of your feud. It was one thing for everyone to know Melissa didn’t like you - there were very few people Melissa actually liked in general. But it was another entirely for them to know she’d smashed out your headlights. Something generic - a bad alternator, maybe - would suffice.

You didn’t even get the chance to lie.

Despite the fact that you could see the doorway, the resounding SMACK of the door slamming open still made you jump. Before your brain knew what it was processing, in stormed Melissa Schemmenti, thick heels clacking on the linoleum tiles. She wore a form fitting pink sweater, the neckline questionably appropriate, and skin tight black pants. Her saint necklaces shimmered from their home on her collarbones. You supposed she wanted to look hot when she killed you.

It only took a moment for her eyes to lock on you, and in that moment you knew things were about to get ugly. To your surprise, seeing the flustered state she was in created a feeling of immense satisfaction. She was furious because your plan had worked. You didn’t even fight the smile that began to find its way onto your lips. The anxiety wasn’t gone, but you relished in the triumphant feeling of landing a critical hit. 

“ You,” she hisses, tossing her bag from her shoulder. The tension in the air was thick enough to be cut with a knife. 

Your eyebrows shoot up, feigned ignorance in your voice as you point at yourself and respond, “Who, me?”

She starts toward you, and everyone else at your table scatters. You’re shocked to see Janine step in front of you, her hands up placatingly. “Melissa-”

“Shut it, pipsqueak, and get out of my way ,” she growls, her gaze over Janine’s head burning holes in you. 

“Hey!” You spit out, anger spiking and crowding out your anxiety. You’re suddenly standing. “Don’t call her that!”

Janine turns to you, holding a hand in your direction now too. “It’s fine, she calls me that all the time-” 

“It’s not fine!” You shout, fists balled. Your eyes are glued to Melissa’s. “You think you can say and do whatever you want because no one will stand up to you. Well, I’m not going to put up with it!” 

“Oh my god, please stop this. I will never psychologically recover from seeing your dead body,” Jacob pleads, wedged between the corner of the room and the fridge for cover. 

“Can’t believe I was dumb enough to trust ya,” Melissa growls. “And after all that bullshit about ‘olive branches' and bein’ cordial.”

You smirk. “Oh, right! How was the game?”

Melissa starts forward again and Janine has to physically hold her back. She’s shockingly effective in spite of her small stature. 

“Ya know I didn’t get into the game! Gary and I went all the way to the stadium, but you gave me fake tickets! We wasted our whole afternoon and got harassed by security!” she shouts. 

“So what are you gonna do about it? Beat me up? Call the cops on me?” you challenge.

A deeply offended look crosses Melissa’s face as her jaw drops. “Are you callin’ me a snitch?” she snarls. She surges against Janine one more time, who manages to keep her back again. “That’s low, even for you!” Melissa says nastily over Janine’s shoulder.

“Oh, that’s low?” You ask incredulously. “Low like smashing someone’s headlights out?” There’s an audible gasp from Jacob in the corner, and you feel the heat of everyone’s gaze turn from you to Melissa, the whole room enthralled by your verbal tennis match. 

Melissa glances around her before pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Ya can’t prove that was me!” You thought someone would have to have been born yesterday to believe that; anyone who worked at Abbott knew that’s exactly something Melissa would do. 

“Oh yeah, because everyone else here keeps a bat taped under their desk like a neurotic asshole!” you proclaim, throwing your hands up in the air. 

“I’ll show you ya stronza- ” Melissa hisses, pushing past Janine and beginning to reach for you. Your arms come up to instinctively protect your face, but before she can reach you, a figure closer to your height blocks your vision.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” Barbara Howard bellows. The whole room comes to a standstill, frozen in time. Even Melissa has been stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide in shock as Barbara looks accusingly between the two of you. You feel immediately ashamed. “Are you both not grown adults? I cannot believe the absolute foolishness I’ve just witnessed!” She rounds on Melissa. “Especially from you!” 

“Barb, she-” Melissa starts. 

“I don’t care if she insulted your cooking to your face, you do not behave like catty teenagers! We are professional, grown people! Acting like this in front of your peers? Disgraceful! ”

She rounds on you, her eyes narrowing. “And you. To think that I was beginning to think highly of you. You went to all that trouble to make fake football tickets, just to get back at Melissa? Have you ever heard the phrase ‘An eye for an eye’ ?” 

The pit of shame in your stomach is sickening as you slowly lower your arms, your eyes unable to meet Barbara’s. Feeling like a petulant child, you couldn’t help but mutter, “She started it.”

“And now I’m ending it!” Barbara yells. You feel her grip the sleeve of your sweater and pull. You stumble after, seeing her grasp Melissa as well. “You are both coming with me!” The rest of the lounge doesn’t move a muscle as Barbara Howard physically drags you into the hallway. 

She marches with both of you in tow, Melissa sending you the nastiest glares she can muster from the other side of her friend. Stopping in front of a classroom full of bright colors and tiny chairs, Barbara turns to both of you. “This has gotten completely out of hand! You are both going to sit in my room and we are going to work through this. I don’t care if it takes all day - you will NOT be allowed out until you can act like civilized adults!” She folds her arms and gestures her head forward. You stare back for a moment, thinking she must be joking, but the woman doesn’t budge. After a moment longer, you enter the classroom. You’re followed closely by Melissa, who stalks to the other end of the room. 

Barbara closes her door and pulls down the window blind. She turns to you both, her eyes closed and her shoulders rising in deep, even breaths. Eventually, she opens her eyes, and commands, “Take a seat.”

You glance around and only see chairs for children. You begin to protest, but the look on Barbara’s face prompts you to simply grab the nearest chair and plant yourself in it. Your knees are comically close to your chest and you don’t know where to put your hands. You settle on resting them on top of your knees. Melissa is pacing back and forth, muttering to herself - you guess she gets to ignore Barbara’s request. 

“Now,” Barbara begins. “We are going to talk out your problems so we can put this whole mess behind us. Your students deserve you at your best, and you cannot be your best when you’re at each other’s throats!” She’s stern, chastising, and you feel ridiculous. “Where did all of this animosity start? Why are you angry with Melissa?”

You can’t help but scoff because the answer should be obvious. Barbara presses her lips together in annoyance and you quickly reply, “Well, where do I begin? Aside from smashing my headlights out, she’s done nothing but disrespect me since I stepped foot in her room. She was insulting me before she even learned my name!”

“I never learned your name,” she pipes up spitefully, and you whip your head around to glare at her. 

“Memory not as good as it used to be?” you retort. A muscle in her jaw jumps out as she clenches her jaw, her face coloring once more. 

Before she has a chance to rip into you again, Barbara cuts you both off with a stern, “Knock it off!” She looks exasperatedly between the two of you before pinching the bridge of her nose. “The Lord is testing me today,” she whispers to herself, shaking her head. She turns her attention to the fiery woman across the room. “Melissa?” 

Melissa comes to a stop, planting herself and leaning her weight onto one hip. She rolls her eyes, gesticulating wildly as she speaks. “If we’re goin’ back to the start, then first things first, she strolled into my class thirty minutes late. Didn’t even have the decency to apologize.” 

“You didn’t give me a chance to!” you protest. “I hadn't even stepped into the room before you were criticizing me. It’s not like I did it on purpose, it was a complete and total accident. And then you started insulting how young and inexperienced I look.” 

“I was just givin’ you a hard time, that’s all,” she says indignantly. “How was I suppose ta know you can’t take a joke?”

Your head whips toward her. “And smashing my headlights? Was that a joke?” you retort incredulously. 

Her eyes narrow and her tone is venomous as she hisses, “Nah, that was for throwin’ away my school supplies, stealin’ lunches, and callin’ me a bitch.” 

You hear Barbara’s sharp inhale and jump to defend yourself. “Those supplies were all broken or unusable! You have so much on your hands with two classes and I was just trying to help you. Also, Janine gave me that lasagna because I forgot my lunch, I didn’t steal anything. You wouldn’t give me a chance to explain myself before jumping down my throat. Not to mention calling me degrading names in Italian!” 

Barbara raises an eyebrow and gives Melissa a knowing glance. “Melissa uses gabbortz quite often, it’s nothing to get offended over,” she says, an attempt to reassure you.

Melissa’s eyes dart to Barbara’s as she huffs, “Uh, it’s gabbadost , Barb. And I mighta used somethin’ more… vulgar.” To your disbelief, the red head practically looks sheepish at this admission. Her arms cross in front of her as she shifts her weight, and your eyes are drawn to how the motion causes her cleavage to swell ever so slightly. Feeling heat flood your cheeks, you dart your eyes all over the room, attempting to find something else to fix them on. Luckily, neither woman seems to notice. Barbara’s eyebrows are furrowed in an inquisitive way that suggests she’s waiting for the shorter woman to elaborate. Melissa lets out a puff of air. “I mighta used the ‘P’ word, a’right?” 

Barbara’s eyes widen as her mouth drops open in a gasp. “The ‘P’ word? Melissa Schemmenti, you don’t mean-”

“Yeah, yeah, the one I save exclusively for Kristin Marie. That ‘P’ word.” You don’t know who Kristin Marie is, but Barbara looks positively scandalized.

Tearing her eyes away from Melissa, Barbara stands and turns away from both of you, hands on her hips and head shaking in disapproval. As she takes her turn pacing across the room, the disappointed silence from the older woman allows the weight of the last week to settle on you, and you find yourself suddenly exhausted. You lean forward, your head in your hands and the shame rising inside of you like a tidal wave. How did you get here? 

“Well, I think you both have been sufficiently horrible to each other,” Barbara says, turning toward you. “Now explain how this has all made you feel.” 

You and Melissa groan in unison. “Come on, Barb,” Melissa starts, but Barbara holds up a single admonishing finger to silence her. The Italian woman becomes subdued immediately, and you notice how different Melissa’s reaction is to being silenced by Barbara.

“How has this made you feel?” the older woman presses, her tone of voice a warning to comply. Melissa leans against the wall, refusing to budge. You all sit in tense silence for what feels like an eternity, and you wish the floor would swallow you up. She was using the same tactics on you that you might use on two fighting eight year olds.

Eventually, you can’t handle the tension any longer and you burst out, “I feel totally disrespected!” You look to Barbara and she gestures for you to continue. “I uh… I feel belittled, and like you don’t take me seriously, but I think the worst part is I never got the chance to prove to you that I belong here… you wrote me off before you even met me. I’ve worked hard, and I love what I do, so to have you disregard me right off the bat, just because I made a mistake and I look young… it felt pretty shitty,” you admit, the confession coming out of you in one long rush. 

“Especially because… I was excited to work with you,” you add quietly. You’re suddenly enamored with the floor, unable to bring yourself to look either woman in the eye. You feel exposed and vulnerable, and you’re majorly uncomfortable with it. 

You’re forced to endure your feelings of discomfort for a few more torturous minutes. Suddenly, your eyes widen in shock as a husky voice meets your ears, and it takes a moment for your brain to process the words. 

“I guess I feel a lot of the same,” Melissa admits. You raise your gaze to meet hers, and she’s staring at you intently, the earnestness reflected in her jewel-green eyes making your heart skip a beat. “Felt like you didn’t really care when you were late. Some a’ these kids? They got plenty of adults outside of these walls that don’t really care. That’s the last thing they need here. And then ya walked in and you look so young… I couldn't resist teasin' ya. But then you got me back and I got defensive, and I shouldnt’a.” She shifts her weight, casting her eyes to the floor. “I bought all those supplies with my own money,” she admits. “So seein’ you throwin’ em away, it really rubbed me the wrong way. But… you were right. I was tryin’ to stretch em when there was no more room to stretch. And then seein’ my lasagna on your desk… I know I can be a real hot head, and I took it out on ya and it wasn’t fair.” 

As you look at Melissa, her red hair shining under the fluorescents and her evident unease at her own candor, there’s a swelling feeling in your chest and a warmth slowly spreading in your limbs. “Melissa,” you say, and her head snaps up to meet you. You search her eyes, waiting for her to snap at you for using her first name. She doesn’t. She simply waits, holding your gaze, and you can’t quite read what’s behind her eyes, but you suspect it’s something far softer than she’s shown you before. 

You allow yourself to swim in those emerald pools for just a second longer before you admit, tenderly, “I’m sorry.” You see her shoulders drop ever so slightly, tension releasing as she allows your words to sink in. “I’m sorry for what I’ve said about your age. I’m sorry for throwing your things away without asking. And I’m really sorry about the Eagles tickets. That definitely wasn’t my finest moment.” You say the last bit with a touch of humor. You pause for a moment, before adding, “I’m not going to apologize for the lasagna, though. Janine insisted on giving it to me, and it was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever tasted.” 

You see her eyes widen, her brows raising in surprise. A genuine satisfied smile graces her lips, and you can’t help but momentarily wish things had been different over the last week so you could have seen more of those. That smile made her entire demeanor change. 

“Well,” she says, eyes flashing with her own humor. She shoots you a sly grin, and you return a small smile of your own. “If I’m bein’ real with ya, I’m impressed. Fake tickets? Pretty diabolical,” she continues, admiration in her voice. Her smile fades, though, and she brings her hand up, pressing a knuckle to her lips briefly in thought. She sighs, murmuring, “I’m sorry too. I shoulda given you a chance before jumpin’ to conclusions. And, uh… I’ll pay for ya to get your headlights fixed.” She mutters that last part, and you notice that she didn’t apologize for smashing them - but you know it’s as close as she’ll come, because you’re not sure she entirely regrets it. You’ll take what you can get.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and once again you suddenly can’t look at her anymore. Luckily, Barbara draws your focus to her as she clears her throat. You both look toward the older teacher as she stares down at you, a smug, triumphant smile dancing across her full lips. 

“Now, was that so hard?” She asks, her voice teasing both of you. For the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe fully again. Melissa rolls her eyes, pulling herself away from the wall, but you detect a hint of relief radiating off of the woman as well. 

“Don’t expect us to hold hands or nothin’ Barb,” she says as she heads for the door. When she reaches it, she pauses and turns to you. She considers you for a moment, and you begin to feel warm underneath her gaze. Finally, she says, “Well, ya comin’? We got lessons to plan for the day. How do ya feel about teaching Science?” Her tone is gruff, commanding, no nonsense. The carefully curated tough exterior of Melissa Schemmenti is back in place. But you’ve seen the slightest glimpse of the human being underneath.

“Right behind you,” you reply, and a tentative grin breaks out across your face as you stand and begin to follow the short woman. You pause briefly though, a thought entering your mind, and you turn to Barabra. Your hands grasp each other behind your back as you rock forward onto the balls of your feet, and you convey your gratitude by giving the older woman the warmest smile you can muster and uttering, “Thank you, Barbara.”

She returns your smile, her own radiant and warm, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve been blessed a bit. “My pleasure, dear. Go on, I’ll see you at lunch.” You nod in agreement, and turn on your heel, following after your lead teacher. You’re not friends - seeing as your time is limited at Abbott, you don’t imagine you ever will be. But you feel lighter, and there’s a newfound respect for the short woman. And for the first time since you stepped foot inside Abbott Elementary, you feel excited for the day before you.

-------

A/N:

Yes, I'm sorry, Gary will be briefly mentioned/perhaps even making small appearances. Stay strong lol. Controversial opinion but I don't hate Gary. Did I think he was good enough for Melissa? HELL NO. Do I think he should have respected her wishes and listened to her when she explained her boundaries? HELL YES. But ultimately he was just a big dumb guy who was infatuated with Melissa Schemmenti, and to that, I relate. Still, I wasn't mad about that split.

Fun fact - if you've watched season 3 episode 4 already, I wrote the Ava roster line before that episode aired. I died laughing when the kids were talking to Gregory about his roster. We don't need to talk about the firefighter exchange... denial is my favorite state.

[wordpress-blaze-242745748]

#Get Ready With Me.

THIS JUST IN: YOU LOOK AMAZING. DON’T THINK TOO HARD. The world is burning, but here's what’s in my cart 💅 #GRWM During the Collapse 12 Looks That Survived the Fire Hauls More Explosive Than the Headlines Best Lip Glosses for Evacuation Day These Leggings Ended a Regime “This is Bisan from Gaza”

Wake up Wake up Wake up Scroll Scroll Scroll Scroll ScrollWake up ScrollWake up ScrollWake up ScrollMake your jaw look snatched Scroll - Scroll - Scroll Scroll Scroll Scroll Scroll - Scroll - Scroll Scroll Scroll Scroll Scroll - Scroll - Scroll Scroll Scroll Scroll Scroll#GRWM while ScrollWhile ScrollWhile ScrollWhile... Interact from the bottom up please See me Anyone See me Please see me Wake up Wake up This is Bisan from Gaza See me Anyone? Like comment share please Someone see me Scroll This can’t be the end Scroll

Source: #Get Ready With Me.

[imjustabeanie]

Matchup Exchange

For @ethereal-moonglow

Your HSR match is...Jing Yuan!

I hesitated between Jing Yuan, Aventurine and Sampo! In the end Jing Yuan won because he’s more stable than the other two. Is it ironic that I say that knowing I love red flags? Yes but we shall not speak about that.

Now for the meeting… you got involved with a mentorship program for young Cloud Knights-in-training. You weren’t an official soldier, but your ability to connect with kids, your strategic mind, and your natural leadership made you an excellent tutor in basic battlefield psychology and adaptability. He was curious and decided to come in and observe the program in person but in a very bad disguise. Ditching his uniform and wearing a wig isn’t enough. And also who would expect him to do something like this? Isn’t he normally always busy? Apparently not. And it’s totally not because his kid is in the program nooooo

You figured out his identity pretty fast. I mean…golden eyes? Very advanced answers for a so called beginner? Check. Come on he’s no fooling anyone. Not even the kids cuz when you challenged him with a follow up question he responded effortlessly, like he was teasing you. The back-and-forth turned into a full-on debate, with the kids watching in fascination. Some connected the dots and you gaslit them into thinking otherwise. Needless to say, you two had a meeting after hours as to what on earth compelled him to do this? Doesn’t he trust your reputation? More at 9 because the quality of his answers might make him face an angry instructor.

Jing Yuan being the gentleman he is invited you over for tea. At least he got good taste. His excuse for such a bad costume and infiltration?

“There has been some rebellions in the youth lately. It was traced back to their instructor. Now, making Yanqing join the program was planned. But you can’t blame a guardian for being worried am I right? Not that you are suspicious lady! I was just worried about my child…Now that I’ve met you I’m jealous that he gets to spend so much time with you”

Real smooth Jing Yuan. Crisis averted, and it was totally not because the food was good. During that dinner both of you warmed up to each other and ended up cracking jokes. But there was one question…who’s the best smooth talker? Sorry but I believe he wins. Good luck making him blush!

Now how you two got close…. Jing Yuan found you fascinating. Someone who could keep up with his wit, challenge him, and wasn’t immediately intimidated by his status yet respectful? Of course he wants to develop a friendship or at least build up good relations! So naturally, he started visiting the mentorship sessions more often, using the excuse of “evaluating the program.” His visits became a routine. Sometimes he joined the lessons. Sometimes he just watched you work, secretly enjoying your energy and playfulness. It all escalated till one day Yanqing was complaining that your puzzles were too difficult! He even said jokingly that you might be the only one able to beat Jing Yuan in a game of chess. Jing Yuan has his own ego and is now curious about your level in chess…that’s why he invites you for a game. At the end of the game he saw you in another light…for such a mature and professional tutor, you sure as hell is chaotic! You didn’t playing traditionally. No, your gameplay is chaotic, spontaneous, and you made risky moves that shouldn’t have worked but did. In the end he won but he knew that you were gonna ask for a rematch and train to get better.

“I haven’t had a match this enjoyable in years…would you humor me with another?”

More matches came and he didn’t realize how at ease he felt with you. Till one day, he walked into a wall while watching you. That’s when the general knew he was smitten. It didn’t take long for him to confess. Well it depends how close the next festival is. Yes he confessed at the festival, under amazing fireworks.

Now Jing Yuan as a lover… He’s a strategist at heart, but when it comes to you, he willingly throws caution to the wind. No matter the shenaningan you want to get into, he will encourage you cuz he trusts his ability to keep you safe. Yes he’s a bit protective due to the many enemies he has. I didn’t want to start with the angst but here it is. None can convince me that he doesn’t have nightmares of the past. That man lost a lot of his friends and companions. It happens that he wakes up in sweat, dreaming that he lost you. He loves how you always manages to calm him down afterward but you can feel him being more on guard and clingy for at least a few days after.

Back to the happiness, I can see him having 3 main love languages. Gifts, words and acts of service. While he loves quality time he’s always busy. That’s why he compensates with gifts and acts of service. Every day you can expect flowers, your favorite drink and the such being delivered to you. And when he can, he whisks you away for some quality time during lunch. Jing Yuan even went as far as to one day take a day off without telling you, then spend the day cooking something for you AND hide little papers with words of encouragement all across your home. It was a very domestic date but one he secretly yearns for.

Frankly, everyone knows how smitten he is. I mean…he once did a 180 from being disappointed at subordinates to asking how your day went with a soft tone. Oh and the pet names…don’t get me started on them. He tried them all and has no shame to use them in public. If someone gets too bold around you, he won’t get angry. Instead, he’ll smile smugly and casually pull you closer, whispering something in your ear that instantly flusters you and gets the point across. What a diplomat.

All of this to say that Jing Yuan is a very devoted and loving boyfriend. Considering the things he witnesses, he loves how doting and understanding you are. It’s a break from the darkness without being cheesy. That’s why he makes sure to tell you every day how much you light up his world.