#so i get a new one every semester or so as they complete their programs

[hannieehaee]

hii!! i hope ure having a great day

i just wanted to request loser!scoups hehe I RLLY LOVED CHANS VERSION AND WAS HOPING TO SEE MORE 🫶🏻 anyways take your time to answer when ure free, thanku!

18+ / mdi

content: loser!seungcheol, afab reader, smut, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 2686

part 1, part 2, part 3

a/n: hii thank u for requesting <33 i never considered loser!cheol before but ngl i loved writing it hehe i hope u enjoy <3

masterlist

despite popular belief, seungcheol was actually a bit of a loser.

okay, maybe his appearance didn't necessarily fit the bill (with his slicked back hair and bulging muscles), but everything else about choi seungcheol truly screamed loser.

even with a large group of fratboy friends, seungcheol was still the loser of the friend group, being the only one who had opted out of joining the frat and who spent every day and night studying rather than ever attending any of his friends' parties.

this was all by choice, he swears! seungcheol was just far too serious about his education to let anything become a distraction. and it had always been like this, even dating back all the way to middle school (jeonghan could vouch for this, having known him basically since diapers). due to this, seungcheol had always been kind of a black sheep in any and every social situation he ever found himself in. as a result, seungcheol ended up becoming shy, awkward, utterly embarrassing in social situations, and as jeonghan liked to put it, a 'virgin loser.'

even if seungcheol wanted to disagree with his friend, he knew he was right. here he was, twenty-one years of age and still a lonely virgin who had never even felt the touch of a woman's hand in his. he'd had opportunities before, set ups orchestrated by his friends, but he always managed to fuck them up. due to jeonghan's outgoing disposition, the girls he usually set him up with were set for a surprise upon meeting a his friend seungcheol, who could not even hold eye contact for more then twelve seconds (he counted).

except this year that would all change.

now in his senior year of college, seungcheol had an epiphany.

on the very first week of senior year, upon being assigned a new dorm-mate due to his previous one transfering, seungcheol finally saw a mirror of himself.

his new roommate was, for lack of a better term, a fucking loser (the term being courtesy of jeonghan once again). seungcheol had barely met the guy, yet he could not stand one more moment of conversation with him. not only was he a know-it-all who could only ever talk about academics, but he was maybe even more of a loser virgin than seungcheol was (at least that's what seungcheol was able to assess from the three separate occasions in which he walked in on his roommate watching porn in the common area of the dorm). his hygiene was terrible and his wide-rimmed glasses made him look like the typical nerd in every high school movie. everything about him was what seungcheol feared to one day become.

this one week of torture had been enough for seungcheol to finally take jeonghan up on his offer to join his frat and subsequently move into the frat house. granted, jeonghan had to break a few rules to allow a new pledge with zero obstacles in the way, but jeonghan was just charming enough to get away with it.

seungcheol had already spent the past 10+ years with perfect grades and pristine extra curriculars, so he figured that even if he completely flunked these last two semesters, he would still be a shoe-in for the masters program he'd been eyeing since arriving to university.

so now seungcheol was immersed in the frat lifestyle, though he still felt a bit out of place, which unfortunately for cheol, was something his good friend jeonghan noticed immediately. but this would only be a problem for a short while.

unbeknownst to seungcheol, jeonghan had orchestrated a plan for seungcheol's first frat party. it all started with giving seungcheol a bit of a new look. jeonghan insisted on throwing out most of cheol's 'nerdy clothes' (admittedly, he did dress like an old man at times), traded in his thick-rimmed glasses for some better fitting specs and lastly, gave cheol a trim to better frame his face. after all these changes, cheol felt more confident but still did not feel ready to attend one of the frat's well-known parties.

the decision was, however, taken for him, as he found himself in attendance to one just a few days later. also unknown to cheol was that jeonghan had been playing cupid once more, scouting to see which one of his closer girl-friends would be a good fit for his friend. and of course, his attention immediately fell on you.

jeonghan had only known you since the last semester of his junior year, in which the two of you had partnered up for a project that took up the entire fifteen weeks of instruction. the two of you hit it off pretty easily, but you hadn't quite caught his attention in a non-platonic way.

but you had caught someone else's.

although it had only been a fleeting moment, jeonghan caught onto every single look and action that had occurred the day in which seungcheol had accidentally interrupted a study session between the two of you.

he had easily noticed the blush in cheol's cheeks upon seeing you for the first time, along with the way he shyly checked you out when you weren't paying attention. what had surprised him the most, though, had been the way you checked out his friend as he went to leave the room. that had been enough for jeonghan to decide to play matchmaker between the two of you if the opportunity ever arose. and that was now.

getting the two of you alone was not difficult, but jeonghan knew better. he knew that sending the two of you into an empty room, completely blind to whatever he was planning was just a bad idea. so jeonghan decided that for the first time in his life, he would not scheme. he would simply set up the scene and leave the rest to you.

when jeonghan first came up to you a few days back and let you know about his friend's crush on you, you had been pleasantly surprised. what had shocked you the most, though, had been the revelation that jeonghan's cute friend was actually an inexperienced virgin. jeonghan told you to please not bring it up to cheol, but that he felt it was best you knew so you didnt feel caught off guard should you ever try to hit him up (which he knew you would). what jeonghan didnt realize was that this fact excited you more than you'd like to admit.

planting that seed was more than enough to get you looking for cheol in the empty room jeonghan had said he'd be in (okay, maybe he did scheme a little), prepared to deflower the pretty nerd you'd been thinking about every time you started to notice him sitting alone in the library every other day.

you had dressed to the nines, donning a red slip dress that gave you breathing room but still accentuated every part of your body you wished to stand out. ready and confident, you quietly opened the door to what you assumed to be jeonghan's room, knowing you'd find his pretty friend inside.

sitting alone on the bed, seemingly trying to psych himself up as he whispered affirmations to himself, the boy jumped back upon your unexpected intrusion, with his hears instantly turning red at realizing who you were.

you were jeonghan's pretty friend. the one seungcheol had had some unbecoming thoughts about immediately after seeing you in jeonghan's room last semester (and subsequently seeing you around campus as his eyes would unknowingly always search for you). and you looked .... fuck. and you were alone in han's room with him .... and you had closed the door right behind you .... and now you had walked all the way over to where he was sitting at the edge of the bed, not shocked at all to see him there ....

"hi," you smiled at him.

"h– hey."

"are you okay? how come you're here all alone?", you sat next to him on the bed, damning all boundaries, apparently.

"oh, i ... just a little nervous, i guess."

"yeah? of what?", despite the unexpectedness of the situation, you seemed genuinely interested, so seungcheol responded.

"it's, uh, my first party as a member of the frat."

"oh, really? i had no idea you were a member of the frat. that's pretty cool, seungcheol."

"you know my name?"

you scoot closer, smile still on your face, "yeah, of course i know your name. do you now mine?"

"oh, i, uh, yeah ..."

"okay, so we know each other. do you maybe want a friend to go out there with? maybe that would ease your nerves," your hand had somehow made its way to his thigh, now invading his personal space a bit. except he couldnt find it in himself to complain.

"t– that's fine, i, uh, i have han and– "

"but arent i better company?"

"y– you're ..."

"can i be honest with you, seungcheol?", you didnt wait for a response, "hannie told me that maybe you needed some help. that i could maybe help you out?"

"help? what type of help do you mean?"

you leaned in even closer, "do you want me to show you?"

"i ..."

"all you have to say is 'yes', cheollie ...", you breathed out now close enough for him to feel your breath on his lips.

he nodded and made an embarrassing noise of affirmation, completely giving up on speaking.

it was embarrassing how easily he let you turn him into a puddle, not even bothering to question how or why jeonghan orchestrated this situation. but that didnt matter as he finally felt the lips of a woman against his own – your lips; the lips of the girl he'd been crushing on from afar, jealous that maybe you'd become more than jeonghan's classmate. this was a clear declaration that his assertions had been incorrect.

seungcheol wasn't sure what to do with his hands (or with his tongue) as he kissed you. he felt you smile against his lips at his whimper, making feel that maybe you were making fun of him. when you pulled away, he feared that maybe he'd been right.

"cheollie, let me show you, yeah? just let me– yeah, like that", you positioned him in a way that would allow you to straddle him as you said this, wrapping his arms around your waist, "okay now let me show you how to kiss me, okay? just open your mouth a bit for me and let me teach you. then you can try it on me."

with that, you leaned into his open mouth, sticking your tongue inside as you played with his own, sucking on it and causing his eyes to roll back, another embarrassing moan leaving his lips.

"do you wanna try it now?", you asked as you pulled away.

he feared his voice would betray him, so he just nodded before leaning in.

seungcheol mimicked your previous actions, though his were a bit sloppier and more desperate. he whined at the way you sighed and pulled at his hair due to the way in which he suckled at your tongue and squeezed his fingers on your hips.

eventually you began to also kiss him back, making it a battle between your tongues all the while seungcheol tried to keep up.

suddenly your hips began to move against his own, making him groan in pleasure. after that, you leaned over him, causing the two of you to lay on the bed as you practically rode him through your clothes.

cheol couldnt help his cries of pleasure at feeling you press against his now swollen member. he didnt want the feeling to end, so he grabbed onto your hips and helped you in your movements, even grinding his own hips upwards to match you.

"cheollie ... do you want more? hmm? wanna feel what its like?", you purred against his ear while pulling off your dress, leaving you in a tiny bralette and thin panties.

"yes! fuck, please. i'll take whatever you wanna give me, just ..."

"shhh, it's okay. i'll give it to you, pretty. you dont have to beg. want you just as bad," you kissed him again before he could reply.

without him noticing, you had thrown off your bra, something which made him completely blank when you pulled away and began talking to him. none of your words made it through his head. he was far too busy looking at the pretty nude girl in front of him. he salivated at every inch of naked skin, wanting nothing more than to lick and kiss at every curve. out of all parts of your body, his eyes were glued to your tits. the fleeting thought of suffocating in them flew through his head, making him shudder.

"cheol?", you grabbed onto his chin and pointed his gaze towards your own, finally breaking him out of his trance.

you giggled at his confused face, causing him to sheepishly apologize for dozing off.

"it's okay, pretty. i'd be distracted too if i could get all these clothes off you ... that's what i was asking actually, can i?" your hands began to teasingly pull at his top, mangling it a bit so it could expose some skin.

his nod was all you needed to rip off his shirt and pull off his pants with urgency that had seungcheol blushing. after getting him fully naked, you threw off your panties and finally sat against him completely bare. the heat of your skin against his was enough to have him burying his face against your neck and begging you once more to please give it to him.

"shhh. i'll give it to you, pretty. i– i'll give you everything," and with that, you sank down on him, throwing your head back at the intrusion.

meanwhile seungcheol was completely gone. the warmth of your body against his had been one thing, but feeling your heat wrap around him was what truly did him in.

it's not like he had stayed a virgin by choice. he had tried to hit it off with many of the girls jeonghan set him up with, but none of them showed any care for him. they'd all expected him to step up and fuck them. even when he would try to shyly explain that he had never done anything sexual before, he'd just be met with scoffs or laughter. but you had walked him through it. you had complimented him and made him feel comfortable. you had made him see pleasure for the first time in his life.

although these thoughts swam through his head as you fucked yourself on his cock, seungcheol's mind was otherwise completely empty. all he could think about was how good you felt and how pretty you sounded as you threw your head back and pulled at his hair. you were just the embodiment of pleasure.

all cares and worries were gone from his brain until the moment in which he felt all his pleasure reach a peak.

he didn't want to be a fucking loser and cum so soon, but you just felt so fucking good, he couldnt help himself. he cried a warning out to you, to which you encouraged him to let go and told him you'd follow him soon.

his orgasm was something he never couldve imagined. but your own orgasm soon trampled that experience. your tightness as you let yourself go while still wrapped around him had him delirious with pleasure. without meaning to, his nails dug into the skin of your pretty hips as he lost consciousness for a few seconds.

unable to fully process it, he felt a sweet peck against his lips before feeling you cuddle against him. he didnt have to think twice before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer.

"remind me to thank that idiot", he spoke up after some moments.

"who, hannie?", you giggled against his chest.

"yeah. he was onto something when he made me get ready in his room."

"oh? he sent me in here looking for you."

"that fucker", he chuckled, "owe him one."

[puckinghischier]

Spotlight

luke hughes x fem!reader

summary - reader prefers to stay out of the spotlight being luke hughes’ girlfriend brings

notes - y’all asked for luke, so luke you’ll get. i wanted to try to get out at least one more fic for you guys before my semester kicks off tomorrow. i don’t know how often i’ll be able to write once things get going, but i’m going to try my best not to completely disappear again. i don’t really like the ending of this, but i hope you enjoy it anyways. happy reading! 🫶🏼

request - “go with me?” “only if you’ll hold my hand” “take my jacket, i don’t want you catching a cold”

[2.3k]

You were someone that absolutely hated the spotlight. You hated the feeling of eyes on you, the knowledge that every move you make is being observed and analyzed.

You flew under the radar all through school, until college. You managed to become valedictorian of your program, earning a highly sought after position with a company based out of New Jersey.

The city has always brought a sense of anonymity to you that you’ve enjoyed. The ability to be a stranger everywhere you go brings a certain comfort to you.

That is, until you met one of the most well-known men in Jersey.

You first met Luke at an event your company was hosting in partnership with the Devils to present them with a hefty donation for a new practice facility. You had tried to get out of going, suit and tie events not being your typical scene, but your boss informed you that you were required to attend.

Even wearing the most plain dress you could find, you caught the attention of none other than the team’s rookie defenseman. You had tried to politely make your exit, but Luke was too intrigued by the pretty stranger in the corner.

The two of you had spent the rest of the night talking, despite the feeling of every eye on you as Luke lead you back to a table. The two of you exchanged numbers at the end of the event, Luke inviting you out to a game. He offered to give you a ticket, but you informed him that your company had rink-side season seats, courtesy of the GM after the donation.

You attended games regularly after that night, blending in the sea of red with Luke’s own Jersey on your back—another perk of the large donation— while also chatting with Luke nearly every day over text, which eventually morphed into phone calls, then facetime calls when he was on the road.

Four months after your initial meeting, Luke decided to make it official and put a label on your relationship.

You had worried about the unwanted attention that came with being a ‘WAG’ as you learned the other significant others on the team were nicknamed, but your feelings for Luke were greater than any discomfort you may experience.

Now, though, looking at the hoard of photographers that are stationed around the rink, your anxiety begins to spike a little.

“Honeybee, I promise it’ll be fine. They probably won’t even focus on us, anyways. They’ll want a few shots of me and Jack with mom and dad, but it’s likely they’ll be too busy on the guys with kids to even notice you’re with me,” Luke reassures you, crouched in front of you while tying your skates.

Today was family skate day for the team, Luke having asked you weeks ago to participate with him.

You agreed, despite your limited ability to skate, thinking it was just going to be the players and their families, no media presence. When you arrived with Luke this morning, however, and you saw the photographers trying to get pictures through the windows of Luke’s BMW, you realized you were wrong.

“I’m just nervous, Luke,” you tell him quietly. “I know if they release pictures of you with a girl during family skate it’s going to be the next big hockey gossip topic, and then it’ll feel like I’m under a microscope.”

Luke’s soft eyes look up at you, sensing the nervousness in your own.

“I know, sweet girl. But I promise, I’ll have Tom talk to the media and tell him to withhold any pictures of us together, if that makes you feel better?” he offers, picking up your now skate clad foot off of his knee and placing it on the padded floor.

You think about the offer, but realize it would still cause unwanted attention on you. You don’t want to be difficult, just invisible.

“No, I don’t want to overcomplicate things. It’s fine. Like you said, I’m sure they’ll mostly focus on everyone else,” you smile down at him, watching his own grin overtake his face.

“Well then, it’s time we finally get you acquainted with the ice. I have a feeling you’ll be seeing a lot of it in your future,” he winks, standing to his full height and holding a hand out to help you off of the bench.

He helps you walk over to the entrance to the rink, steadying you after every wobble. Once you reached the gate, you hesitate, halting your movements.

“C’mon, Honeybee. Go with me?” Luke asks you, already having stepped on the ice.

Thinking about what this means once more, and the huge step it is, no only onto the ice but in your relationship, you hesitate for only a few seconds.

“Only if you hold my hand,” you tell him, your words going deeper than just ice skating.

“Always,” he responds, tugging your hands towards him when you step onto the ice, shakily keeping your balance.

“Well, look at you, Wallflower, out here skating with the big dogs,” Jack calls out, skating up towards you and Luke.

Looking over to give him a short smile, you try to keep a majority of your attention on not falling over as Luke slowly pulls you towards him as he skates backwards.

“Figured it can’t be that hard if you do it all the time,” you tease him back, the two of you becoming close friends over the course of yours and Luke’s relationship.

Jack, as rambunctious and rowdy as he can be, is one of the people who works the hardest to keep you out of the spotlight, other than Luke, of course.

On the rare occasion you decide to tag along for team outings with Luke, Jack will act as your own personal body guard, perfectly hiding you in-between him and Luke anytime there’s a flash of a camera or a squeal of a fan.

“Oh, yeah, make fun of the professional. Let’s see you do this,” Jack makes a big show of skating backwards while swiveling, then executing a very poor jump, but still managing to land upright on his skates.

You roll your eyes at him, only glancing up for a few seconds at a time, trying to keep your eyes on your own feet.

“Alright, Jack, that’s enough showing off. Give the poor girl a break,” you hear Ellen scold her middle child as her and Jim skate over towards the three of you, hand in hand.

“Hey, she started it. I was just trying to defend myself,” he holds his hands up in surrender.

Luke guides you over to one of the short walls, allowing you to hold onto it for support for a second, giving you a break.

“Don’t act like you have to have a reason to show off, it’s just your natural state,” you tease Jack again, earning a laugh from the rest of the group.

“You got me there,” Jack doesn’t argue, shrugging his shoulders in agreement.

“Jack! Luke! Over here!” you hear a voice yell, turning to look at the photographer a few feet away from you, leaning over the wall with his camera pointed in your direction.

You feel the spike of anxiety in your chest, attempting to scoot further down the wall to separate yourself from them, but nearly losing your balance.

Luckily Luke was right there to catch you. “Hey, it’s okay. They’ll just get a few pictures of our family together and then move on,” he assures you once he makes sure you’re steady enough to be left alone.

You watch as Jack and Luke position themselves in just the right way that you’re completely hidden behind them, the added bodies of Ellen and Jim only ensuring your hidden state.

The photographer snaps a few shots of the family before giving a thumbs up, looking down to check the quality of his pictures.

You let out the breath you were holding in, sagging a bit at the relief of avoiding any unwanted attention.

“See, told you there was nothing to worry about,” Luke skates over to you again, leading you away from the wall.

“Luke! How about a shot of you and your lady!” the same photographer yells out, causing your relaxed state to turn rigid in a heartbeat.

“Nah, man. No pictures for her today. Just me and Jack,” Luke replies, skating to stand in front of you, blocking you from the camera pointed at you.

“Oh, c’mon, man. The fans will love it!” the photographer tries again, attempting to move positions to catch a glimpse of you.

“He said, no, man. Go get some shots of Cap or something. She doesn’t want her picture taken,” Jack skates up, standing in front of both you and Luke.

The photographer rolls his eyes, agitated at the loss of a good picture opportunity. “Fine, whatever,” the man huffs, turning and walking towards Nico and his family.

“Thanks, you guys,” you mumble out, embarrassed at the interaction.

“I told you, no pictures if you don’t want them,” Luke turns to face you, taking your hands in his once again, pulling you out further onto the ice.

The rest of the skate goes smoothly, no more unwanted attention from the photographers, just you and Luke and his family skating in small circles and having a good time.

Towards the end of the skate, you start bringing your gloved hands up to rub at your red nose, the chill of the ice finally getting to you.

“You cold, Honeybee?” Luke asks you, knowing how chilled you get, even when wearing layers like you were right now.

“Yeah, it’s a little chilly in here. Not that you’d know,” you tease your boyfriend, gesturing to his full set of pads and jersey he was wearing. Not to mention his tolerance for the cold anyways.

He leads the two of you over towards the benches, leaving you leaned against the wall for a second before returning with something in his hands.

“Here, take my jacket, I don’t want you catching a cold,” he tells you, draping your favorite plaid jacket of his over your shoulders.

You put your arms through the large sleeves, loving how you were now engulfed in the smell of his cologne.

Thanking him, you lean up to give him a small kiss, not caring who was watching, lost in your love for your boyfriend.

“Alright, let’s get you out of these skates and back into your normal shoes before people start filing in for warm ups. I have a game to play and you have to get to your seat so you can watch your hunky boyfriend do his manly job of hitting people and chasing a piece of rubber on ice,” he tells you, causing you to laugh at him, bringing a hand up to ruffle his curls.

After helping you remove your skates, and pouting until you give him a good luck kiss, Luke shoos you away so you can make your way to your usual seat, Jim and Ellen opting to join you at the glass rather than sitting in a box with some of the other player parents.

The boys ended up winning their game, Luke coming straight out of the locker room after the game and picking you up in a celebratory spin, claiming you have to go skating with him before every game now.

You laugh at his superstitious self, grabbing his hand and walking towards the exit of the rink with him to join the rest of the team for celebratory drinks, not wanting to bail on Luke after such a game.

Weeks later, when you see an article containing the pictures from the family skate event, you click on it and scroll through the various snapshots.

You find yourself smiling at all of the family pictures of Luke’s teammates, enjoying how happy the guys are to have their wives and kids with them on the ice.

Scrolling all the way to the end of the article, you find yourself stopping on a couple pictures in particular, the familiar pit of anxiety forming in your stomach.

The last two pictures in the article are pictures of you and Luke. The first was taken when he was zipping up the jacket he gave you, the two of you looking at each other with so much fondness you could feel the love radiating from the picture.

The second is when you were craning your neck to give Luke a small kiss, the picture captured right before your lips touched, both of you smiling at the other with the same fond look in your eyes.

Your immediate reaction should have been a level three meltdown, your picture out there with Luke, officially, in an ESPN article of all places, but you were surprisingly calm. You should have been screaming and angry, having specifically told the photographer no pictures, but you couldn’t find that anger within yourself.

The pictures showcased yours and Luke’s love for each other so well, you wanted copies of them for yourself. Suddenly you didn’t care if people knew your name, or your face. You could care less if you were front and center on every hockey gossip page in existence.

All you cared about was the amount of happiness you saw on Luke’s face in the pictures, and how deeply you felt about him.

So, when Luke called you an hour later, panicked and telling you he was in the process of getting them taken down, you told him it didn’t matter. They didn’t need to be taken down, because you didn’t care if you had to stand naked in the middle of the rink during puck drop at his next game, you just wanted people to know you loved him with every ounce of your being.

Your aversion to attention be damned, seeing these pictures made you want to scream your love for him from the rooftop of the highest building in Jersey. You were still opposed to the idea of unwanted and unnecessary attention, but decided right here that there would be no more hiding. You were going to be there for Luke in any way he wanted or needed you from here on out. And if you happened to be caught in a few pictures on the way? Well, you guess you’ll just have to get them framed.

[limarieb]

so high school

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Growing up, you could never understand how people your age were so romantically interested in other people. You begin to understand for the first time, however, when you encounter a certain Sokovian during your first semester of university.

Warnings: mentions of underage drinking, college!au, friends (?) to lovers, college au, making out, slight angst (but not really)

Word Count: 4.0k

Author's Note: everyone say thank you taylor swift for the spontaneous new fic! also this is lightly proofread, so edits might be made later oops

Main Masterlist | ao3 | Wattpad

...

Growing up, you never truly dated anyone. Sure, you had crushes on fictional characters in the media you consumed, and you allotted arguably too much time to admiring celebrities online; but, you never saw anyone in your personal life in such a light. At various hangouts and sleepovers over the years, you noticed just how much your friends discussed their love lives. Hushed whispers and sighs of the same phrase, “I really like them,” flooded your ears in the hallways at school. You had originally tried to join in on the conversations, not wanting to be excluded, but you simply couldn't engage in them wholeheartedly; eventually, the inability to relate began to upset you. You naturally boiled it down to something that must have been wrong with you — how could it possibly be normal to be like this when everyone else around you seemed to share these romantic sentiments?

Thankfully, you became completely preoccupied, both mentally and physically, by the prospect of university. By the time your junior year of high school had started, your love life — or lack thereof — no longer held too much importance to you. Instead of keeping whimsical love letters on your desk like others your age did, you opted to pile various books. From Camus to Aristotle, you discovered a deep fascination and affinity to the field of philosophy and the metaphysical discussions it posed. Therefore, when your senior year had arrived, you threw yourself head first into your studies, determined to build up your application in order to get into a top university.

After accepting your offer into one of the best philosophy programs in the nation, you anticipated your time at university, daydreaming about all of the things you would study and all of the people you would meet there.

But never could you have anticipated someone like Wanda Maximoff.

You had met her during one of your introductory courses in your first semester. Wanda was the type of person that, upon first glance, you would be scared. Not just because she was undeniably pretty, but she also had this stone cold exterior to her. Her lips were permanently etched into a slight frown, and she never really showed too much expression while she spoke during class. To put it simply, she intimidated you; so, you settled on admiring the brunette from afar (two seats up, one to the left — if you were to be specific).

Your plans changed, however, after the two of you got assigned to be partners for a class project. It was just a presentation, but it required you both to meet outside of class to work on it. You would be a liar if you said your heart didn't skip a beat at the thought of seeing Wanda outside of these four walls of your classroom, even if it was just to work on this assignment.

Seemingly unbothered by it all, she gave you her number for you to set up a date and time to meet. Her messages were all business, but they still made you feel like a dopey teenager every time her name showed up on your screen.

The day quickly came for you both to work on the presentation. Ultimately, you had settled on the two of you meeting in your dorm, which you made sure to deep clean before she came. You were not necessarily messy by any means, but the idea of Wanda, the most daunting person you could imagine, stepping into the safe space of your room made your blood run cold for some reason.

As Wanda knocked on your door, you rushed to open it. The two of you stood face to face for a moment, divided only by the doorframe. She still had her typical frown, but you noticed it shift into the slight uptick of a smirk. After a moment had passed, she finally broke the silence. "Are you gonna let me in, or...?" she asked, teasing you and your awkward nature.

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you stepped aside for her to enter, "Oh, right... Sorry."

You led her to your side of the room, where she stood for a moment analyzing all of your possessions. You felt small as she did so, like a tiny insect under a bright, unsettling microscope.

She suddenly turned to face you, dropping her bag on the floor, "So, are we gonna work on this or not?"

That is how you found yourself on the floor, her laying on her back and you on your stomach. You had your computer in front of you, typing furiously as she provided you the words and ideas. You glanced over at her every now and then, especially if she was being awfully silent.

Most times, she would just be looking up at the ceiling in thought, her brown hair sprawled in random patterns underneath her; however, after a particularly long bought of silence, you looked over at her to find her gaze directly on you. You quickly returned your eyes to the screen of your computer and began typing whatever came to your mind. You hoped she did not notice the blush rise to your face.

She did.

She sighed, turning her body to lay completely facing you. "You're very quiet, you know," she stated, closely observing your reactions highlighted by the light of your screen.

Unsure of how to respond, you simply say, "So I've been told."

"Oh," she exclaimed, her smirk from earlier returns. "She has jokes."

You hum in agreement, "Just a few, unfortunately."

With the project now finished, the two of you abandoned it in favor of simply talking to each other. Never would you have guessed that Wanda could be this... warm. Unlike what you had witnessed in the classroom, she was very friendly and sarcastic in the privacy of your dorm.

You discovered a lot of information about the brunette during this conversation, such as how she loved coffee but only if its iced, how she never loved texting (preferring to call or talk in-person) but will do so if she must, how she immigrated with her twin brother from Sokovia when they were children. As she recounted her memories from Sokovia, you could hear the accent she once had poking through the surface; although, you did not point it out, afraid it was an insecurity of hers. Maybe you would tell her another time how nice it sounded, but for now, you bonded with her about collecting CDs and vinyl records from various artists.

While the two of you casually spoke, all you could think about was her — how pretty she was under the dimmed lighting of your dorm, how every joke she told was the epitome of humor, how much you wanted to stay in this moment with her. She was perfect.

Is this what people were talking about in high school?

As the night came to an inevitable end, you found yourself feeling quite sad, for you no longer had an excuse to hang out with Wanda. Though she had her number, you did not have the confidence to use it and ask if she wanted to meet up again.

You did not have to worry too much about it. As she packed her belongings back into her bag, swinging it over her shoulder, she spoke, "You know, you're pretty cool, Y/N."

You tried to hide the shock caused by her words, "Thank you, I think?"

She chuckled lowly, "My friends are having this thing at my place this weekend, if you wanted to join?"

Your head perked up, eyes blinking rapidly in shock. Unable to deny her offer, you nodded, "Yeah, sure... okay."

“Great,” she replied, walking toward your door. You followed behind her and reached around to open for her. She smiled at the gesture before speaking again, “I’ll text you later with the details and everything. See you in class.”

“Yeah, see you,” you returned. As you closed door behind her, you feel your mind finally catch up to reality: you, the stereotype of a nerd with very few friends, are going to hang out with Wanda and her friends.

You close your eyes, leaning your head onto the back of the door. “Oh, shit,” you whisper aloud into the open air. What have you just gotten yourself into?

Decoding your own thoughts and feelings about the Sokovian in the days leading up to your next class had revealed just how infatuated you had become; yet, you didn't even know how to act upon them. For years, you had only observed romantic behaviors from the outside looking in, whether it be through your friends' dating experiences or the words on a page from whichever sapphic novel you had picked to read. Now that you finally found yourself in the loop, what were you supposed to do?

Should you message her about whatever? No, that would come across as needy and overbearing.

What if you found her after class and ask to hang out again? No, that's even more overbearing than the text message.

The internal war waged on, resulting in your mind and body being paralyzed out of anxiety. For now, you have settled on simply waiting for her message regarding this weekend and presenting your assignment with her this week during class.

Days later, you walked into the class, practically shaking from your nerves about the presentation and the girl that you had to present with (who had just so happened to become your first teenage crush over the span of weeks).

You sat down in your unofficially assigned seat. Being so focused on the way your leg bounced repeatedly, you failed to notice the familiar brunette enter the classroom. Instead of sitting in her typical seat, however, she dropped her bag on the floor by the seat directly next to you.

Wanda instantly noted your nervous demeanor. While she had her own anxieties regarding the presentation and such, hers remained within her mind. She never showed such things outwardly, unless she was with someone with who she felt undeniably comfortable expressing those thoughts.

She slid into the seat and reached over to place her hand on your bouncing leg. Immediately, you noticed the feeling of someone's hand, breaking the chain of your anxious thoughts; upon glancing to your side, you discovered the culprit: Wanda.

"Hey," she started. "Everything is going to be fine, I promise."

Unable to find the words currently, you opted to remain silent, but you provide her with a uncertain nod in return. With a squeeze of her hand as a final attempt at reassurance, she placed her hand back within her lap and waited for the class to begin.

As always, Wanda was right. Your presentation went well; there were a few instances of stumbling words on your part, but otherwise it went great.

When the two of you returned to your seats, she leaned over and muttered under her breath for you to hear, "Told you so."

As you began to do your typical nighttime routine that evening, you heard your phone go off. Unsuspecting to who it was, you tapped on the screen under the assumption that it was just another email added to your overflowing inbox. You were wrong yet again.

Wanda: hey y/n !! are you still able to make it to the thing this weekend?? its gonna be on saturday at my place... lmk !!

You stared at the message for a moment before confirming you would still be in attendance, of course. Was it normal for your heart rate to speed up this much from mere words on a screen?

Saturday night rolled around quicker than you had anticipated. It was almost time to leave, yet you were currently standing still in your pajamas, surrounded by the miscellaneous clothing items you had thrown around. Ultimately, you had settled on the outfit you had first chosen, resulting in a bunch of unnecessary cleaning afterwards.

When you arrived to her place, you promptly knocked on the door. A moment passed before the door creaked open to reveal the Sokovian. Her outfit was considerably more casual than others you had seen her wear around campus. She stood in front of you, adorned with an oversized band tee and jeans; her fingers were still littered with her usual assortment of rings. However, the thing that surprised you the most was her lack of makeup. Not that she needed it, of course; in fact, it was quite the opposite. Tonight she seemed to have abandoned her typical heavy eyeliner and rose-colored shade of lipstick, choosing to only use her mascara and some chapstick.

"Sorry for the jumpscare," Wanda joked, her nose scrunched in amusement from your reaction. She continued to explain, "I know I'm dressed down compared to class. I just don't like putting in the effort to get ready sometimes, especially to just hang out with friends."

"No!" you exclaimed, quickly trying to backtrack the way she took your shocked expression. "No, you're fine. You're beautiful, actually, I just- I was just surprised to see you without the eyeliner and all."

Her cheeks became flushed at the compliment, but you seemed to miss it being overly concerned with your own response. She chuckled at your awkwardness, "Thanks. Oh, you can come in, by the way. I think everyone is here now."

She introduced you to each friend, after which you gave an insecure wave in return.

As the night progressed, you gradually loosened up. Whether it was time or the alcohol in your bloodstream, it frankly did not matter to you. You were not drunk by any means but definitely buzzed enough to not worry about every single decision you made. You even talked to one of Wanda's friends, Natasha, for awhile without the Sokovian present (given that she had left to use the restroom, but it still counts in your mind).

Suddenly, you were sat on the floor, playing childish party games with the others. It was fun, you couldn't lie... until it wasn't. You had already survived Truth or Dare, but someone (Tony) had suggested Spin the Bottle. With no romantic history, it was practically a given that you subsequently had not kissed anyone yet. For your first kiss to be during a stupid game of Spin the Bottle would be depressing; but, you didn't want to be the loser who said no to playing because the reason would be too humiliating to explain.

So, you elected to power through the hesitation, hoping the bottle just would not land on you.

At first, you were confident. The game was now three rounds in, and you remained lucky.

Eventually, the group had noted your lack of participation and had chosen to give you a "free spin." You silently prayed it would at least land on someone with whom you had become somewhat acquainted. With a shaky hand, you reached forward, spinning the emptied beer bottle. In the moment, it felt like the bottle would never stop spinning, but, once it did, it felt like time froze altogether.

It landed on Wanda.

Though you liked the brunette, you truly did not want your first kiss to be this way, especially with her.

She instantly noticed your apprehension. Turning to where Tony sat in the circle, she offered, "Hey, what if we did a hybrid of this and Seven Minutes in Heaven?"

Your eyes widened at the question, feeling unsure about all of this.

With a smirk on his face, Tony agreed, "I like the way you think, Maximoff. Alright, new girl, go follow Maximoff, and don't have too much fun while you're gone."

Before walking off with Wanda to the nearest bathroom, she briefly turned around to aim her middle finger at the boy. Though you were extremely overcome with anxiety about what was about to occur in the bathroom, you released a chuckle at her response.

She pulled you into the bathroom, flipping the lights on. As the door clicked shut, you faced her with your back against the wall.

"So, um, what are we supposed to do?" you asked.

"We don't have to do anything, Y/N," she replied, leaning against the bathroom counter. "I just noticed you weren't very comfortable with the idea of kissing me out there, so I improvised a little bit."

"Oh, okay," you breathed out. "Just for the record, it was not the idea of kissing you that made me uncomfortable. You- You're cool, so, it's fine."

Wanda tilted her head in curiosity, clearly not expecting that response. "Oh?" she questioned. "What was it then? Because I could clearly tell you were not very comfortable in there... I mean, you were visibly stiff."

"It's not you, I just..." you looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

"'It's not you, it's me'?" she joked, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes! No! I mean..." you exhaled. "It's not that the idea of kissing you makes me uncomfortable because, believe me, it very much doesn't. I just- I've never done this before."

The blood rushed to your cheeks during your admission. You felt utterly embarrassed, wishing you could just be back in your dorm in this moment.

"Y/N," she called softly. Despite every ounce of your body screaming at you to not do so, you returned your gaze to the Sokovian. "Do you want to kiss me?"

You couldn't read her tone. A part of you was nervous, maybe this was all some sick joke between her and her friends; yet, the other part of you was thrilled by the proposition alone.

"I wouldn't oppose," you muttered, automatically employing humor as your defense mechanism.

Wanda rolled her eyes at your antics, "Ok, then, let's play a new game." She looked down at her phone, checking the time. "We have less than four minutes in here."

Confused by the sudden change, you acquiesced in her request, "Okay?"

She stepped closer to you, standing a foot away.

Her tongue escaped her mouth, briefly licking her lips, before she proposed, "Are you going to marry, kiss, or kill me?"

Your eyes widened at the unexpected question, but you attempted to recover in order to return her playful energy, "Can I choose all three?"

Her eyebrow had risen, the infamous smirk forming on her lips. Slowly, she inched closer and closer to you until you could feel her breath on your skin. One hand found refuge on your hip, while the other she brought to the side of your face. She used her fingers to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear then cradled your face. You licked your own lips and closed your eyes in anticipation.

Then, you felt it. Her lips brushed against yours, softly and slowly as if she were testing the waters. It was only a peck, but you swear your heart burst from the experience.

A moment passed before she pulled away enough for her to speak.

"Was that okay?" she inquired, ensuring you were still interested in this.

"More than," you affirmed.

She smiled, "Good, because we still have a few minutes left, and I intend to use them."

Without another second, she connected your lips once again. This time was different, however; there was a newfound fervor behind it. Her kisses started slow like the initial pace, gradually becoming quicker and deeper. Uncertain about what to exactly do, you continue to follow her lead. You felt her slide her tongue across your lips, asking for entrance. How could you ever deny her that? As her tongue began to clumsily caress with yours, a familiar feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, but you ignored it and kept kissing her.

A knock at the door pulled you both back into reality.

"Time's up, lovebirds," the voice called. "Clothes better be on and straightened when you leave."

Wanda chuckled at her friend's words and bit her lip. For the first time, you think you see her outwardly nervous. She swallowed as she shifted her gaze from your lips to meet your eyes, "Hey, I um- I hope this wasn't a one time thing."

You sighed in relief, "With you? Never."

She leaned forward once more, placing a final peck on your lips before grabbing your hand to return to the circle. Instead of your prior placements on the floor, in which she sat on the other end, Wanda refused to let go of your hand, instead pulling you to where she had been sitting.

Thankfully, no one mentioned how your cheeks were now incredibly plagued with a pink hue, allowing the game to continue onward.

After the group decided to finish playing games and turn on a movie, you followed Wanda to the couch in order to sit next to her. As soon as you found your place at the end of the sofa, she gravitated closer, leaning into your side. Her head rested on your shoulder as if you both had been close for years.

The movie American Pie started playing, all of her friends too engrossed in it to note how the two of you were cuddled up together. She picked her head up from its place on your shoulder. You didn't think too much of it, imagining her neck must have simply gotten uncomfortable in that position.

However, she turned her head to face you, taking in the sight of you and her friends all hanging out and watching a movie. Unable to resist herself any longer, she leaned in closer, her breath hitting your ear as she whispered to you, "I can't focus on the movie. All I can think about is kissing you right now."

You rotated your head to face her, biting your lip at her words. "Shush, your friends are here," you quietly argued, but you were secretly enjoying her antics. You peered over her shoulder, observing her friends who sat quietly with their attentions fully focused on the film.

Wanda pressed a soft kiss to the base of your neck prior to returning to its original position on your shoulder. You sighed at the feeling of her affection, wondering if it would linger forever.

Soon enough, the movie ended, and it was time to go home for the night. Her friends had left moments ago, but not without saying how you should "come around more often." Honestly, you were deeply excited that you received their approval, especially after the recent developments with Wanda.

You stayed behind for a little, attempting to garner as much alone time with Wanda as you could without being interrupted.

With the others now gone, you allowed Wanda to be more affectionate; or rather, you allowed her to give in to her desires and kiss you again, and again, and again.

After the final peck, you pulled away with the cheesiest smile and swollen lips. She loved seeing you this way: giddy and carefree.

"I really like you, Wanda," you proclaimed with a sigh, effectively breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. "Like, a lot."

"I really like you, too," she replied. "You know, in case it got lost in translation with the kissing and everything."

You playfully slapped the side of her arm. "I'm serious," you started. "You make me feel so... high school."

She raised her brow, gesturing for you to continue.

You resumed, "I never felt like this, especially during high school. For a while, I actually thought something was wrong with me." Her lips formed a slight pout at your past conflict. "I was always so... jealous of others my age, having all of these teenage experiences with crushes and romance. Since I never did, I just assumed that it was my fault, that something was wrong with me. It was isolating; it felt like some inside joke that everyone else knew about except me. But, I'm happy I waited, truthfully, because now I can experience all of those high school feelings with you."

End.

[andikenpachi]

take care

a little drabby-drab of nursing student!reader meeting paramedic student!abby for the first time

the first day of the semester always seemed to be the most hectic, and that didn’t change once you got accepted into your college’s nursing program. the halls of the health science building were filled to the brim as students made their way to and from classes, their respective conversations buzzing around you like a swarm of bees.

you held your gigantic fundamentals of nursing textbook to your chest with one hand (seriously, why did the book have to be so big?), the other clutching the strap if your backpack. you only had one class today, but it was a whopping three hours long, and your mind was already on information overload. luckily, you professor was gracious, and provided the class with a 20 minute break halfway into the lecture. you decided to use that break to take a much-needed breath of fresh air, and you took an almost exaggerated deep breath in once you opened the double doors leading outside. the air was crisp, and a bit chilly, which was perfect for clearing your mind and ridding it of any distractions.

“uh, excuse me?”

a tap on the shoulder and a smooth voice caught your attention, and you turned around, only to be met with, well… your first distraction.

holy shit.

you would’ve never imagined describing a woman as a complete hunk, but no other word could fit the description of the tall blonde standing before you. her broad shoulders and thick arms strained in the light blue shirt that symbolized students of the paramedics program, which was tightly tucked into black cargo pants that fit her muscular thighs a bit too well.

you tried to speak. you made a real effort too… but was her delicate grey-green eyes made you absolutely melt under her gaze. after what seemed like an eternity of just gawking at the woman, you finally found your voice.

“hi…”

hi?! really, that’s all you could think of saying?!

unexpectedly, the woman chuckled, a low and almost raspy sound that made your heart flutter in your chest.

“hi,” she replied, a bit teasingly. she held out her hand, revealing an AirPod case. “i believe this is yours. i noticed it fall out your backpack in the hallway.”

your eyebrows shot up, and you instantly grabbed your bag, only then noticing that one of the pockets were unzipped.

“oh! wow, uh… thanks,” you stammered, unable to even maintain eye contact as the blonde returned your belonging.

“no problem,” she responded, and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought you could hear the smile in her voice.

now what?

you stood there awkwardly, fingers mindlessly toying with the strap of your backpack as you rocked back and forth.

“i’m ab-”

“okay thanks again, bye now!” you suddenly interjected, and you sped away, arms and legs moving almost robotically as you desperately attempted to get out of her field of vision and to your car as quickly as possible.

you didn’t even realize what you did, at least, not until you sat in your car. you slapped both of your cheeks (macaulay culkin style) and yelled, letting out all of your frustration and sheer embarrassment from that interaction.

you leaned back in your seat, shutting your eyes and sighing as you finally calmed down.

what a great way to start off the new semester, you thought to yourself. i’m somehow already behind in my studies, and then i just had to make a fool of myself in front of this fine ass woman, who i might end up seeing almost every fucking day. please, don’t let this day get any worse…

a knock at your window.

the blonde paramedic student.

whoever my enemies are, it seems they have won…

you swallowed the lump in your throat before rolling down your window down all the way, to which the blonde responded by resting her folded arms (oh god, her arms) in the space. she was smiling, biting her bottom lip seemingly to not burst out into laughter, and you fiddled with your fingers in your lap.

“you seemed a bit too eager to get away from me there,” she hummed. “i didn’t even get a chance to tell you my name…”

“i-i wasn’t, i promise!” you exclaimed. “it’s just-”

“no, no, it’s all good,” the blonde assured with a laugh. “i’m abby, by the way.”

“abby…” you repeated, liking the way it felt on your tongue. you told her your name as well, to which she smiled.

“it’s nice to meet you,” abby said, “now i know who to call when i need someone to take care of me.”

your eyes widened and your cheeks heated up in a blush, and abby laughed at just how flustered she got you.

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding,” she grinned. “but since i’m here, i might as well ask: i’ve been looking for a study buddy, and i know we’re in different majors, but we could still-”

“yes!” you answered a bit too loud for how close you were, and you put a hand over your mouth in embarrassment. “i-i mean, yeah, we can study together, if you like.”

abby bit her lip and smiled, clearly pleased with your response. “great, gimme your phone.”

you complied, unlocking your phone and handing it to her, allowing you to save her number onto it. she called herself, pulling her own phone out of her pocket and saving your number.

“cool, i’ll call you later so we can set things up, ‘kay?”

you nodded as abby handed you your phone back, and she tapped the edge of your car door.

“see you around, nurse,” she jested with a wink, sticking a hand in her pocket as she walked away.

you watched her go, letting out a long breath you didn’t know you were holding as you leaned back in your seat.

you weren’t sure what exactly you were getting yourself into, but whatever it was, you at hoped it’d work out.

i might make a part 2 to this, i might not (i will), but it might not be any time soon lol.

[lesinquietes]

I once wrote this longfic about Yandere!Professor!Levi who works out of a university and agrees to take you on as his teaching assistant in the first year of your grad degree…… and guys, the brainrot is back 🥺

Tw; coercion, degradation, dominant levi, dubcon (just a sprinkle), oral sex (levi receiving), slut-shaming, spanking

He remembers how much completing a master’s degree sucks. Rewarding? A little. But mostly just a waste of time keeping to the institution’s expectations of excellence. Originally, he only applied to see if he would get one of the scholarships they offered to the poor folk. He didn’t anticipate gaining entry to the program.

Fast forward to eight years later, and he’s cozy in his teaching position. The headmaster is his best friend, Erwin Smith. Life is good. He doesn’t have to teach much with the team of graduate assistants he has each semester. He lets them conduct seminars on course material to get “teaching experience”. As if that’ll help them find a job afterwards.

Although everything seems to have fallen into place for him, there’s still something missing. A void. A yearning. For what, he doesn’t know; that is, until you came along. You make him realize that life isn’t meant to be easy.

For every class he teaches, he receives at least one teaching assistant. Oftentimes, the flock he gets are new graduate students who don’t know their hand from their foot. They’re so nervous in their new role, that they cause more havoc than they’re worth. As such, he’s learned to be a hard ass. It turns out tough love works better than coddling.

But you.

You don’t respond well to either.

And it pisses him off how you’re not predictable. Growing up in the slums made his ability to read situations damn near immaculately. To some degree, he should be able to predict most common behaviours. He’s utterly confused when you don’t respond to reward or punishment. What kind of person are you? The fascination takes him faster than the alcohol did after Farlan and Isabel died in that car accident. Unlike the liquor, he lets his attraction for you bloom.

He treats you like an academic study. He writes down his hypotheses and then conducts an experiment to record data. He documents every method he tries, hoping to make a breakthrough, all while skirting under your radar; the subject can’t know her role in his field research.

Initially, he’s hard on you. He discovered a marking error on one of his students’ returned papers. Usually he doesn’t bother to check his teaching assistant’s work. With you, he’s been putting in overtime.

“The fuck is this?” He growled, tossing the paper onto your desk.

“What?”

You took the sheet onto your hands and scanned the lines with careful orbs. When you reached the bottom, you locked eyes with him. He doesn’t utter a word. You’re bright enough to understand the implicit message.

“I made a mistake,” you state. “I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful.”

You always act so diplomatic with him. He wishes you would let your guard down. You speak to your colleagues with less of an edge to your tone.

“I thought a master’s student would be able to handle bachelor’s level shit.” He antagonized you. “If you fuck up again I’ll scrap your contract for next semester.”

It’s a bluff. He won’t do that. He doesn’t want anyone else getting you as a teaching assistant, least of all that creep Miche. You’re too alluringly odd. Levi wants to lay claim to you.

“It won’t happen again,” you called after him. “Sorry.”

A lightbulb goes off in his head. His vivid memory of your nonchalance gave him a bright idea. You don’t mean your apologies because you don’t care. Truly.

Of course you haven’t been responsive to his rearing techniques; you aren’t interested in what he’s offering. He hasn’t been using the correct rewards and punishments. You’re in this teaching assistant position against your will; you needed to take it on so you could afford to pay your tuition. He bets you’re dying for stimulation.

With this in mind, he sends you an email, requesting your presence in his office tomorrow morning. If you want something to captivate your picky mind, he’s going to give it to you.

He can’t believe his eyes when you actually obey his request to bend over his desk. Your skirt hikes up, revealing your cute panties. They’re white. The way they don’t fit around the cheeks of your ass makes his cock twitch in his pants. The notion that you planned this crosses his mind. He dismisses it in favour of indulging.

Levi smacks his ruler against your ass, revelling in how your holes twitch each time he strikes. You respond well to this punishment. You moan and gasp when he goes harder, panting breathily like a desperate whore. He’s never seen so much life in your face. He only stops hitting your plump globes when the skin feels tender and worn beneath his palm; even then, he gives them one more clap before standing up to tug down his trousers.

You suck his cock next. Who knew you were such a champ at giving head? He helps you along with a firm hand glued to the back of your skull. You choke and slobber when his rip slams into the back of your throat. He doesn’t let up. Tears are streaming down your face until he decides it’s time you worship his balls. He shoves your nose and mouth into his sack, shuddering when he feels your tongue lavish each sphere with your love. It’s almost enough to make him cum.

He can’t take much more of your teasing. He forces himself down your throat a second time and shoots his load. You cough and sputter, but he doesn’t let you off. You’ll only have the privilege of air when you swallow. Once you do, he’s happy to permit you to breathe.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and tilts your head up. His steely orbs are filled with wanton lust. Your makeup is smeared and your eyes are glossy. You’re in a daze. This is what you wanted all along; to be used by your professor.

Well, if that’s what it’ll take for you to maintain an interest in grading for his class, he’s happy to do it; the next time you need some proctoring, he’ll be sure to claim that wet pussy of yours.

[hologramcowboy]

The whole Danneel + LSU thing is so sketchy. I can’t find any mention of what year she graduated. We’ve never seen pictures from that time period. She’s only mentioned her college experience a few times (mostly party stories of course). She’s not listed as a notable alumni despite there being a very low bar for who they consider notable. She’s not in the 2001 Gumbo yearbook, the year she would have graduated from a 4 year program. I’ve tried looking at the ones from 2002 and 2003 in case she graduated late, but they don’t have a clear list of graduates. Still trying to find commencement programs from those years to see if she’s on them. Her Wikipedia doesn’t mention any education, only third party/rate websites do (the OTH forum says she majored in Beat Poetry, which is very much not a real major). The closet thing to proof is that she was mentioned on an LSU alumni forum/board back in 2008 when she did her spread for Maxim, and a Louisiana Life article from the same year that says she went for Mass Communications. And those obviously aren’t super reliable sources.

My guess is that she did go to LSU, but she didn’t graduate. At least semester or two because that was what was expected of her, and then she moved to California to try to become famous. Mommy and Daddy will only pay for the Studio City apartment if you give college a try first type of thing. Then to try and counteract her bitchy and promiscuous image, she pretended to be the only college graduate in the OTH cast.

It would also make sense that she went to LSU because her foot in the door to the WB/CW was the show What I Like About You, and one of the creators went to LSU (the same show was also run by several creeps known for their love for the casting couch, but that’s a whole other rabbit hole. Crazy that almost every single role D has ever had can be traced back to a creepy dude who gave her the role in exchange for sexual favors).

If it helps, this is the only mention I found from a more official source The Eunice News or whatever it is called.

For all the articles I found, none showed her actually attending OR graduating. The timeline doesn’t match anyway because articles immediately switch to her career in acting and so it seems she merely enrolled and then moved to L.A.

Notice how her mom talks about Danneel and how even she lies, claiming her daughter has standards ( we all saw what she did with her career)

This article also helps you get a sense how involved she was with Riley, they were building a life together way before Jensen came along.

Since we can see her mom completely lie about Danneel in this article, we can conclude that the apple doesn’t fall from the tree. Religious girls don’t do soft porn scenes, I’ll stop here because the rest is obvious.

[edit] Forgot to mention that Clownana was the first set J and D met on. You do the math from there.

[iliterallyjustlivehere]

i dunno if i ever posted this here but... this is a fic i started because i was projecting and about halfway through i realized i only wanted to write the parts where Nick actually gets sick so i completely lost motivation for the rest of the story.....

so here is Galaxy/Bear Witness/Delicate as it is titled in my google doc. i published on ao3 under delicate but galaxy is pretty cute given the circumstances tbh

Nick Nelson never got sick. Ever. He joked about being a great teacher because he never picked up whatever bug his students were carrying. Charlie on the other hand had a shit immune system and ended up with some sort of cold or illness once or twice a month. It was never very bad though, and Charlie had a great system when it came to being sick. He had a plan and he could carry out that plan effectively, because he had had practice. 

Nick did not have practice. 

The last time Nick was actually sick, like, can’t get out of bed or else he’ll pass out type sick, was four years ago during his third week in Uni. Typical freshers flu type beat. That was the only time in his years at Uni he wished he had a roommate. He knew how lucky he was to have his own room, even if it was tiny, but that week he would’ve given anything to just have another person be there. Not even to take care of him, Nick hated being taken care of, but just to bear witness to his illness. Most of his friends from home were genuinely shocked to hear he was unwell. 

Nick had felt so alone. He was still brand new to this world, he didn’t even know his way around campus and here he was, lying on the floor of the bathroom praying to every God he knew of to let him feel better. 

In reality, it was a 24 hour bug, but it felt like eons. He still missed more classes even when it was over because he was terrified of getting sick in class or passing his illness to anyone else. He stayed in bed a week before venturing back out into the real world. 

When he did go back to class, everyone had formed groups and made friends. Everyone had a clique, and Nick wasn’t a part of any of them. Because of his sickness he had effectively missed the most important part of Uni: Making friends. 

He wasn’t completely alone, he hung out with people casually and had gone to eat with other people in his program, but he didn’t feel connected to any of them. He missed his friends. He missed Tara and Darcy and Tao and Elle and everyone else. When he left for Uni he had just gotten truly comfortable around them. They were Charlie’s friends first, it felt, so he didn’t know whether they would even stay in touch when he left for Uni. 

They did. They sent him sweet messages, and told him how much they missed him. Their group chat overflowed with memes and 3AM conversations about who knows what. They were his nightlight when everything else was dark. 

This didn’t mean Nick didn’t feel lonely. He actually felt more alone than he ever had. He couldn’t help but feel he had messed up big time by leaving his friends, by leaving Charlie. His heart ached for them. 

The first semester was rough, but he survived. And at the end of it, he had a little friend group of his own. They weren’t nearly as special as the Paris gang, but they were people he could be around. Nick had learned a valuable lesson in making new friends; he had unintentionally isolated himself from everyone other than Charlie and his friends and because of this, Nick had no idea what to do. Realizing that he couldn’t go through school alone, he managed to pick himself up and introduce himself to people. Humans are pack animals. They cannot survive alone, however much they want too. 

It all ended up good. Nick still kept in contact with some of his Uni friends, they would occasionally get dinner and reminisce on the “good old days” like they were elderly and not one year out of school. 

Still, though it turned out well in the end, Nick carried those feelings of isolation with him. Nowadays, he would panic for a moment whenever he didn’t feel well. Any sign of being sick sent him spiraling because in his mind he equated being ill with being completely and utterly alone. And too much of that feeling, obviously, led to him feeling worse. 

Address. Acknowledge. Breathe. These are tactics he used whenever he got so tangled he couldn’t breathe. All things Charlie had taught him when Nick had opened up about his anxieties. First, address and assess the problem. Figure out the cause. Then, acknowledge it, tell it you know it’s there. Finally, breathe it out. You have to pay attention to something in order for it to do what you want. Charlie had said it was kind of like agreeing what your head was telling you, but choosing to think differently. It was all about rerouting the wires in your brain, making sure none of them are rusty or tangled. 

Everyone’s brains were tangled. Some just more so. Charlie had also said the easiest way to untangle your brain was to bring all the junk to the light. Unfortunately, Nick was an excellent bottler. He would do the classic holding it all in until he exploded over everything and everyone. Nick could look absolutely fine but internally be on fire. Nick was frequently on fire, therefore giving him years of experience of yelling at himself to calm the fuck down. 

And that’s just what he did when he woke up with a headache. He yelled at himself, then went about his day as if nothing were amiss. And now it was three hours later, and Nick was sitting in his classroom trying to calm down. It had just been a headache but now evolved into a dark lump in his throat and a churning stomach. 

He was lucky that he didn’t have any kids today - There were scheduled “teacher work days” spread throughout the year. He couldn’t bear to think about dealing with 15 first graders on top of the pain in his head. 

Groaning, he rested his head on his desk. He knew he should probably just go home, he obviously wasn’t getting any work done, but he needed this work day. People who aren’t teachers can’t even begin to comprehend how much work it takes to be one. And Nick loved it. He loved his kids, in fact, probably too much. Their schedule was always wonky because Nick insisted on giving kids individual help along with revamping programs constantly to better benefit the children. 

Plus, it wasn’t like he was actually sick. 

Right?

On the tail end of a chill, he felt the heaviness that comes from nausea. Nope. He couldn’t deal with this. Nick was stronger than this. He was fine. He was excellent at faking it til you make it. He wouldn’t admit to anyone when he wasn’t feeling well until the last possible second. Charlie was the only person who could always tell how Nick was feeling. Oftentimes, Charlie knew how Nick was feeling even before Nick realized it. 

Charlie. Nick couldn’t stop shivering. He wished Charlie was here. God, he missed him so much he wanted to cry. His face grew warm and his vision blurred. Charlie would know what to do. He would make them cups of tea and let Nick rest his aching head against his chest. Nick longed for the soft and steady beat of Charlie’s heart. 

The fluorescent lights were shooting daggers into his brain.  He stupidly looked up straight into the light which caused his brimming eyes to finally overflow. Putting down his pen, he gripped his head and tried to stop the tears. He couldn’t believe he was crying over something so stupid. He had seen Charlie that morning and would see him again when he went home. Glancing at the clock, Nick realized it was only 11:30. It had been three hours since he last saw Charlie, but it felt like eons. 

Finishing the English assignment felt like the end of the world. How could he do anything? He may as well quit now. The kids didn’t exist in his brain anymore. Everything had swirled together and he couldn’t stop the tears. 

Another wave of nausea rolled through him. He could feel it in his fingertips, a heavy feeling that couldn’t be breathed away. Eventually the heaviness settled in his throat and behind his eyes. How long had he been crying? His face was numb. Nick was falling through a tornado, spinning round and round. 

He jerked the arm that was holding up his head and barely caught himself before slamming his face onto the desk. It was time to go home. He was fine, not sick at all, he just needed to leave. He couldn’t focus here. It would be better at home. WIth Charlie. 

Just a moment longer though, he reasoned. Just until he could see straight. Placing his forehead on his desk, he looped his arms over his neck, under the pieces of hair that touched his neck. His senses were already overwhelmed from the migraine, if he had to feel the hair on the back of his neck, he may actually combust. His hands were ice cold, but his body felt like it was on fire. 

Not sick, not sick, not sick, not sick. He repeated it over and over again, hoping that, by putting all his energy and focus onto the fact that he was not sick, it would come true. 

This was quickly followed by a surplus of spit suddenly filling his mouth. He didn’t even try to keep it in, instead opening his mouth just enough to let it all spill out. Sour spit soaked his notebook, but he didn’t care. He watched as the spit caused the ink to run, turning it into a globby blue mess. Stupid fountain pen. Watching the ink run and the spit puddle grow was mesmerizing. Different hues of blue swirled and mixed. He noticed that the longer the spit sat there, the more shades were revealed. It looked a bit like a galaxy. 

He didn’t even realize what was about to happen until he was actively in the midst of it. The spit had been getting more and more cloudy which added depth to his galaxy. He had focused so much on the page that when his stomach hitched he didn’t react. Five seconds later and his galaxy disappeared underneath a puddle of his breakfast. It took him another few seconds to shake the daze and realize there was more coming. He jerked back and fell out of his chair in an attempt to grab the trash bin he kept at the side of his desk. The falling wasn’t ideal, but at least it got him where he needed to go fast enough to catch the next wave. 

The next 15 minutes were terrible, to say the least. At least his brain had shut off, so all he had to do was hold the bucket and try to breathe in between gags. 

The exertion made the pain in his head worse. Needing to be somewhere darker, away from the fluorescents, Nick fully climbed underneath his desk. It wasn’t much darker under there, but at least the lights weren’t assaulting him. There was a moment of surprise when he realized he could fit under his desk; He wasn’t a small human, that was for sure, and the ability to crawl into small spaces was never something he harbored. Still, he had somehow managed to curl up tight enough to fit. 

Being away from the light helped his head, but his stomach still roiled. Nick had his knees pulled up to his chest with the bin next to him. It wasn’t the best configuration, but it would do for now until… Until what? What was he going to do? His chest heaved and dark spots danced across his vision. What was he going to do? He was stuck. Stuck in the school, stuck in his classroom, stuck underneath his goddamn desk. The thought of leaving his hiding spot made his heart beat faster, so all he could do was sit there in his misery. 

Assess. Acknowledge. Breathe. He managed the first two steps, but as he was trying to steady his breath, another wave of nausea knocked him out flat. Barely having enough time to turn his head, Nick choked out a bit more of his breakfast, then gagged fruitlessly for a few minutes. He didn’t feel much better, but it was obvious nothing more was coming up, so he leaned back up against the desk and tried step three again. His heart was beating much too fast and he nearly blacked out as he shuttered through the first breath. Four more slow breaths and he no longer felt like he would pass out. One thing off his list of ailments. Two to go. 

He hadn’t even begun thinking about what to do next when his phone started ringing. The vibration matched the thumping in his head and he cursed himself for choosing a musical theatre song as a ringtone. As Kristen Chenoweth and Idina Menzel belted out the chorus of “For Good” he reached one arm up to feel around on the desk. Being exposed to the light felt like the worst possible thing to happen right now, so he could only grope around and pray it was in reach. 

The first small miracle of the day was he found the phone at the edge of the desk. He didn’t even look to see who was calling before he answered. 

“Hello, my love!” Oh my god. It was Charlie. All of his muscles started to relax, one by one at the sound of Charlie’s voice. “... what do you think about pizza for dinner?” At the mention of food, the nausea came creeping back in. Nick groaned and covered his mouth with his free hand. He didn’t want Charlie to hear how ill he was, but it was too late, Charlie had heard. 

“So I’m guessing that’s a no on pizza? You could’ve just said so, no need to huff,” Charlie joked. Nick managed to smile at that, though it quickly turned to a grimace as his stomach wreaked havoc within him. 

Charlie then seemed to realize Nick hadn’t spoken a word on their call. 

“Nick? Hello?” Nick’s eyes began to fill with tears again. All he wanted was Charlie. 

“Is something the matter?” Charlie asked. Nick nodded before realizing Charlie couldn’t see him. He could hear his boyfriend's breath over the phone and the tears spilled over. 

“Yes,” he gasped. His stomach heaved again and it took everything in him not to throw up all over his phone. 

“Okay. Okay, can you tell me what’s wrong?” Charlie’s voice had changed to the one he used when Nick wasn’t feeling well. This made him cry harder. He was so sick he thought he might die. He was going to die. Oh, god. His stomach flipped again and this time a spray of stomach bile came up, burning the back of his throat. This round hurt so much more than the first few. This time there was hardly anything left in his stomach and what little he was able to expel felt like acid burning through his body. 

In all the mess, he’d completely forgotten about his phone call. His heart constricted again, Charlie definitely hated him now. He couldn’t do anything for himself, he was completely useless. When he found his phone wedged between his legs, the call had ended. Charlie was gone. That was the final straw. A shock rocked his body, as if he had stuck a fork in the toaster. His head hurt more than it ever had and all he wanted was for it to just stop. 

Just stop. 

Just stop. 

Please. 

He summoned all his strength and slammed his head back against the desk, effectively knocking himself out. 

Charlie had been sitting at his desk when he called Nick. He’d been lonely that day. There was no deadline for him to fill, no work that needed to be done, no chores that hadn’t already been completed other than the dishes, but that was Nick’s job, thank you very much. And what does Charlie do when he’s lonely? He calls Nick, of course. 

Their original dinner plan had been these fancy omelets Nick had seen on tiktok, but, as Charlie found out this morning, the eggs had gone bad. For once Charlie’s anxiety over spoiled food had come in handy. He always tested eggs to make sure they were still good by putting them in a container of water and seeing if any floated. Much to his delight, they all floated. He had been very proud of himself for catching it before they ate any. 

The phone rang exactly six times before Nick picked up. That’s odd, thought Charlie, normally he picks up the phone after three. 

“Hello, my love!” Even just knowing Nick was on the other side of the line made Charlie feel a bit less lonely. “I was just calling to ask about dinner. I know our plan was eggs, but they’ve gone bad.” Charlie paused for a second to see if Nick would say anything. When he didn’t, the loneliness came back in full swing. Nick was angry that the eggs had gone bad. Charlie should’ve been more careful. “What do you think about pizza?” There was a moment of silence, then some scuffling over the phone. What was Nick even doing? Was he that angry at Charlie for letting the eggs go bad? 

Then, he heard what sounded like a groan from over the phone. Charlie’s heart dropped. Nick really was angry. It was unusual though. Normally Nick would communicate better, but he hadn’t said a word the whole phone call. 

“So I’m guessing that’s a no on pizza? You could’ve just said so, no need to huff,” Charlie tried to joke, but his voice was strained and he could feel tears building up behind his eyes. This was so unlike Nick, and normally Charlie would be able to tell that Nick wasn’t feeling well, but he had been feeling emotionally unmoored all day, so the lack of response had his head reeling. 

Still, nothing could be heard over the phone except Nick’s breathing. It sounded ragged, like he’d run a mile in the sun and hadn’t yet had something to drink. 

“Nick? Hello?” Charlie could feel his heart twisting with anxiety. 

A sniffle could be heard over the phone. Charlie was taken aback. Why was Nick crying? Was he that upset? 

Nick whimpered and Charlie’s anxious heart took a step back. This wasn’t like Nick. Something was wrong. 

“Is something the matter?” he asked. 

There was silence over the phone and then: “Yes,” Nick gasped. His voice was tight and his breaths were labored. Charlie’s heart was hammering, his own breath, sharp. 

“Okay.” Charlie took a deep breath. “Okay, can you tell me what’s wrong?” 

He heard what sounded like a cough that turned wet midway through and there was a clunk that indicated that the phone had been dropped. 

“Nick? Oh my god, Nick, what’s wrong?” Charlie was standing now, pacing from the bathroom door to his desk under the window. Daisy joined him, following a step behind. 

More coughing could be heard. It almost sounded like he was gagging. And then the phone cut off. Nick had hung up. 

Charlie abruptly stopped his anxious pacing, causing Daisy to run into the back of his knees. He barely felt it though, all he could focus on was getting to Nick. Nick needed him. Nick was hurt or in trouble or something, something was wrong and Charlie couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel his hands, couldn't open his eyes. 

Having been rudely interrupted in her own pacing, Daisy nudged him from behind, which brought him back down to earth. 

He needed to get himself under control. 

This was not about him. 

He would be no help to Nick if he continued like this. 

Assess. Acknowledge. Breathe. Something Geoff had taught him years ago. It had been a lifesaver on many occasions, for both him and Nick. 

First, assess: he was anxious about Nick. The unknown factors were crushing. Next, acknowledge: Nick seemed to be unwell. This was a normal thing to be worried about. This anxiety was true. Then, the most crucial step, breathe: he counted his breaths. Breathe in 2, 3, 4, hold. And breathe out 2, 3 ,4 ,5, 6, 7, 8. Repeat the breathing as long as needed, while keeping an open mind. He repeated this three times, before the earthquake in his chest calmed down. He was okay. His feet were on the floor. Nick would be so proud of him for this.   

Daisy nudged him again. Charlie opened his eyes to see she had brought him her favorite toy. 

“Thank you, Daisy,” he gave her a pat on the head and she whipped around to lick his knuckles, her whole body wriggling. Charlie gave her a kiss on the head and picked up the stuffed carrot. It looked just like Nellies. Grabbing his cardigan from its signature spot on the floor, he slipped the carrot in his pocket and went to find his keys. 

Technically he didn’t need to drive, Nick’s school was within walking distance, but Charlie wanted to get there as quickly as possible. Plus he didn’t know what kind of state he would find Nick in. A flashback to the hospital made Charlie cringe and he shook his head to clear the thought. Nick was probably just ill. No trips to the hospital would be needed, he thought, trying to convince himself. Maybe a migraine. For some reason, this comforted Charlie. He could handle a migraine. 

Finally he found his keys, (in the sink under the frying pan he had used to make crepes that morning - they were basically just pancakes), gave Daisy another pat on the head and rushed out the front door to go rescue his boyfriend. 

Nick had been listening to the clock for a few minutes now. He didn’t bother counting the seconds, he only listened to the time passing. The nausea had subsided for the time being, but had been replaced by what felt like a cloud in his brain. He almost felt drunk, the room spun when he opened his eyes, so he kept them tightly shut. He was content listening to the clock for now; figuring out what to do about the current situation could wait. 

More time elapsed, but Nick wasn’t sure he believed it. If he couldn’t hear the clock, he would think the world had been frozen. And who’s to say anything was happening? If a tree falls in a forest… 

The door opened. Nick’s heart would’ve fallen into his stomach, but his stomach was in his throat, so it just skittered around for a moment. 

Who could it be? 

Nick curled in on himself once more in an attempt to hide. Maybe if he shut his eyes tight enough, no one would see him. Maybe if he held his breath, no one would hear him. 

Charlie had arrived. He tried to walk calmly to Nick’s classroom, but since there was no one there except a few faculty members and maybe a janitor, running seemed like the best option. 

Plus he’d always wanted to run as fast as he could through school hallways. 

When he reached Nick’s room, he was slightly winded and needed to pause to breathe for a moment before venturing further. This moment was cut short though because when Charlie looked through the window into the classroom, he didn’t see anybody. Where was Nick? His heart sped up, and not because of the hallway sprint. Cracking open the door, Charlie walked into the seemingly abandoned space. 

Nick’s classroom wasn’t that large, there weren’t many places for children to hide, let alone a 6’2 Nick Nelson. The whole room looked dead. Charlie nearly shut the door and went looking elsewhere when the smell hit him. It was acidic and smelled of the tea and toast he and Nick had had for breakfast. It burned Charlie’s nose and his heart dropped, meeting his stomach which was trying to crawl into his chest. 

He cautiously walked further into the room. 

Still, he could not see Nick. What he did see was a thick brown liquid currently dripping down the side of his desk. He tried not to look at it too much, but it was hard when the vomit was literally everywhere. It covered Nick’s desk and Charlie could see various notebooks and stationary poking out from underneath the liquid. 

Still no sign of Nick, but at least Charlie knew what he was dealing with. He took a deep breath through his mouth to steady his heart rate and walked towards the desk. 

It didn’t take much looking after that. 

There was Nick, curled up underneath his desk. An overturned bin was next to him; it was obvious he had tried to keep the mess contained, but it was too much so he gave up. Charlie’s heart fell through his chest and smashed onto the floor, along with his knees as he put one shaking hand on Nick’s shoulder. 

“Oh, love…” Charlie couldn’t tell if Nick’s shirt was wet from sweat or vomit, but it was likely both. 

Nick’s head rolled toward Charlie, eyes closed. Charlie took Nick’s face in his hands and pushed his sweaty hair out of the way. Nick’s face was bright red in some places and pale as milk in others. Tears clung to his eyelashes and bits of breakfast had dried on his chin. Using his bare hands, Charlie wiped away all traces of sickness from his face, whispering to him the whole time. 

Nick’s eyes opened a crack, but his expression was still blank, as if he couldn’t see anything at all. 

“Hi,” Charlie said. Nick’s eyes focused on Charlie for a moment and then rolled away again. 

Now what? How was Charlie gonna drag his 6’2 ragdoll of a husband out from underneath the desk? 

He did not have to ponder for long, because Nick suddenly lurched forward again, right onto Charlie. His whole body seemed to tense as he coughed up a bit of fluid on Charlie’s lap. The noise he made was torturous. It took everything in Charlie to not push Nick back to where he came from. Instead, he took Nick’s shoulders and leaned him to the right so he wasn’t directly in the way of Nick’s next round of gagging. Nothing much was coming up, but that didn’t stop Nick’s body from trying to rid itself of every last bit. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Charlie said when the gagging turned to gasping. He attempted to pull Nick out from underneath the desk, but he was so completely out of it that instead of leaning into Charlie’s gentle pulls, he reared backwards, nearly hitting his head again. How’d he even fit under there? “You’re okay, yeah, everythings fine,” Charlie rambled, more for himself than for Nick at this point. Nick retched drily again, finally leaning towards Charlie. 

Taking this opportunity to finally pull him out from under the table, Charlie managed to sit Nick up right, this time leaning against the filing cabinet next to the desk. He grabbed the trash bin, but there wasn’t much use for it anymore. He was completely empty. Instead, his head lolled back, hitting the filing cabinet with a clunk. The sound reverberated throughout the room and Charlie winced. Nick was going to give himself a concussion along with whatever horrid virus was wrecking his system.  

“You’ve gotta… Oh love, you have to breathe,” said Charlie. Nick kept gasping, tears running down his face. His hands were balled up in Charlie’s shirt, trying to get as close to him as possible, like maybe, just maybe, Charlie would be able to help him breathe through the pain. 

“Hey, look at me,” Charlie held Nick’s chin up, forcing him to look into his eyes. “Breathe. Start slow. In, 2, 3, 4 hold. Out, 2, 3, 4, hold.” He then rested Nick’s head against his chest so he could feel the vibrations of the breaths Charlie was taking.  It was the same exercise they used whenever one of them was feeling out of control. They’d been using it for so long, just hearing the words was able to ground Charlie. He hoped Nick felt the same. 

As they breathed, Charlie realized just how out of breath he was feeling. Sometimes he worried that their emotions were too intertwined, one of them panicking occasionally led to the both of them breathing harshly while curled up wherever they landed. Sometimes their bed, sometimes their kitchen floor. And now apparently the floor of Nick’s classroom. It wasn’t something Charlie could worry about now though, as Nick was finally taking full deep breaths without shuddering. He still shook like a leaf, but at least he was breathing somewhat normally. 

The last time Charlie was ill, Nick had narrated everything, always telling him what he was going to do before he did it, so as to not cause the panic to rise up again. Charlie moved his hands to put them in Nick’s hair and began speaking quietly. 

“I’m gonna move you just a bit, okay?” Charlie wasn’t expecting an answer, but Nick moved his head in a jerky sort of nod. “And now I’m going to lean you back against the cabinet for just a moment.” He put one hand behind Nick’s head to prevent any more head related injuries. “I’m standing up now, then I’m going to lift you up. I’m going to need your help though, I can’t lift you on my own.” Another jerk of the head. “Now I’m going to take your hands and pull you up. Once you’re up, you can lean against me and I’ll put you in your chair.” The chair had somehow remained dry throughout the whole ordeal. “I’m going to count to three then pull, okay?” Nick hiccuped, which made Charlie’s heart skitter around for a moment before he was able to gain control again. If Nick was sick again, so be it. It would be easier to manage once he was sitting up. 

“1, 2, 3, and up.” Surprisingly, Nick did most of the work. He was able to stand almost on his own, even if he was a bit wobbly. Once Charlie had him in the chair, he was able to get a better look at what they were dealing with. 

It… it didn’t look great. Puddles ranging in thickness were spread at least a foot in every direction, slowly congealing in the cold classroom air. 

Nick seemed to be doing alright, all things considered, but Charlie was worried about a possible second (or third, how long had he been sick?) round. How was he going to get all this cleaned up? There were paper towels on the desk, but it looked like they hadn’t been spared in the initial explosion. 

Charlie’s brain was working overtime, and achieving exactly nothing. What was the correct next step? 

He was thinking so hard he didn’t hear the knock at the door. He also didn’t hear when the door cracked up and someone walked in. He did hear the sound of something metal hit the linoleum floor and the gasp that accompanied it. Bouncing to his feet, Charlie spun around to see the school janitor, Mr. Jenson standing in the doorway. 

“Oh thank god,” Charlie said, taking a step forward. “We’re gonna need a mop.” 

Two hours later, after the mess had been cleaned up and Charlie was finally tucking a weary Nick into bed. Charlie was incredibly grateful Mr. Jenson had stopped by when he did. Apparently he had taken to visiting Nick in the afternoons so they could talk rugby, and was more than happy to help Charlie with the cleanup. 

There had been some close calls on the way home, with Charlie pulling over more than once for Nick to dry heave on the side of the road, but he hadn’t actually been sick since the classroom. Charlie still put a bin on Nick’s side of the bed, just in case, but it seemed like he was out of the woods. 

Nick had fallen asleep almost immediately, and Charlie followed soon after. Even though Charlie wasn’t ill, the afternoon's events had still exhausted him, so when Nick was finally settled, he too climbed under the covers. Charlie placed one hand in Nick’s hair and the other lay on his chest, and they both slept the day away. 

And honestly? 

It was pretty great. 

[k-zuzu]

연준

yeonjun 𖹭 gn!reader

i don't want to be just another college memory.

synopsis: y/n lives a completely different life from the mr. smart and perfect popular jock also known as choi yeonjun. they stumble upon each other's lives and can't seem to get away. a typical romance story.

wc: 4.8k

content: slow burn oneshot, puppy love, college AU, frat party, alcohol consumption, mentions of suicide, eventual suggestive makeout sesh, mature audiences only, almost getting caught, mentions of suicide, idk why but feat. bang chan and changbin of SKZ, also hannah bahng is in here 'n she is dating taehyun?, not proofread, lowercase intended.

zuzu's note: main masterlist. this was written so long ago, i tried to salvage it and proof read it but i gave up at some point. - july 2024

teaser:

“i got the part for... ji-sung.” you say, voice soft and shy.

“oh really?” the tall man asks. you're not sure if it's sarcasm or genuine intrigue but there's a gentle smile on his pretty red lips. “i guess we'll be having a few scenes together. let's formally meet. i'm choi yeonjun.”

it's been a few weeks since the semester started and you're fitting in quite well — college wasn't really what you expected, it's so... adult. you didn't realize how pampered you were until now. most of your classmates are dormies and runaways. one of them offered for you to host a drinking party at your place to which you kindly rejected because you knew how those usually ended. you actually live with your older brother and you hung out mostly with the introvert group of your major since the extrovert group seems a little intimidating. everything is still so new, you haven't memorized any of their names and you're just going by the flow which wasn't the best choice.

you're the type of student who thinks classmates are just classmates and not friends since you're already content with the little life you have with your online friend group, older brother, and the kpop groups you watch and obsess over in your free time... in secret. literally nobody knows except your brother since everyone thinks it's cringe for some reason, but you don't really understand, you're not the borderline obsessed psychopath fan everyone stereotypes with kpop fans — nobody is really, it's really rare, it's just like obsessing over a band, but kpop is different in every better way and— you just can't explain it.

at school, your communications professor mentions something about a stage play the college is hosting that the arts programs are collaborating in — theater, visual artists, media arts, and everyone was allowed to audition and he encouraged the class, the auditions were in a few days and you were a little interested. when class was over, hannah walked up to you and asked if you were interested in joining it, she saw the way you perked up when the professor brought it up. she told you how she was really eager to join and she had no one else to go with, one thing led to another and you accepted (mostly because of peer pressure). an audition wouldn't hurt, and if you got a part, then... hooray? you already knew the basics of theater anyway — a loud voice, don't hide your face, the whole upstage/downstage thing, you loved theater and being in one would be pretty cool.

walking down the hallway with hannah to your next shared class, your shoulder briefly brushed against someone else's but you paid it no mind. it's a crowded hall and it's bound to happen — but that person turned around to get a glimpse at the cause of his slightest inconvenience before continuing to walk with his friends...

choi yeonjun.

the semester had just started but he's already the star with current students and seniors. not only was he smart enough to get a fully paid scholarship, he comes from a decently rich family with a prestigious background — an only child with a doctor mother, firefighter father, and he's just super family oriented, sociable with a great sense of humor, a handsome face and a large friend group and fanbase, plus, he's super kind! it's impossible not to fall for his charms. 0 enemies since birth. literally the standard for all of humankind.

and you have never heard of him.

not everyone in the shool has heard of him or knows him, it's a huge campus, it's not the cliché “girls will kill his girlfriend if he gets one” type of deal, his “fanclub” is very respectful and they just admire him for how awesome he is. he gets invited to every party to liven things up, he's just really fun to hang out with even for a second he'll give you the best impression and will leave you wanting more. yet he has such stable grades and does so well in basketball with 0 distractions. not one mistake in this man's life.

so when he turns back to see the one person who didn't even look back at him, he's, needless to say, a little interested.

the next few days, you're at the audition and you're watching everyone else try out on stage for a character named Trisha, who was an American activist... Hannah was up next for the same role and she was really nervous but you encouraged her, lifting up both your firsts. “fighting!!” you say and she does the same pose and says the same as she gets up and grabs the script, going on stage. as she reads her lines, another student goes to sit next to you and, again, you pay no mind as you want to witness your friend perform and you're afraid of social situations.

“is that your friend up there?” a voice asks, and you look over ever so slightly.

“huh? oh, yeah.” you say, and go back to watching her.

“are you also auditioning?” he asks and this time you fully look at the face trying to make small talk with you. you were never a fan of small talk, but damn... he's hot. he's most definitely a senior, probably graduating soon. you think to yourself.

“yeah, actually... park sol.” you reply which causes him to quirk a brow.

“same.” he chuckles and you smile a little bit.

“...well... may the best one... win?” you attempt.

"not with that attitude, you won't."

“thank you for that very endearing audition, hannah bahng.” the director closes his notebook and you watch as hannah bows deeply on the stage, a wide smile slapped across her face and you slowly applaud for her, yeonjun observes as you clap and copies your action.

the results don't come until the next few days, a paper is posted on your block for the cast of the upcoming stage play “spirited together” and when you see your name, you were shocked to see you got another part you didn't audition for: hwang ji-sung... you vaguely remember his character description. he was one of the ghosts in the play — park sol's classmate and best friend who committed suicide. yeah. then you look to see who got trisha's part... it wasn't hannah. you frown a bit, disappointed that you got a part in a play she wanted to be in. your eyes look back up to the list and you check whoever got park sol's and it was some rando named 'choi yeonjun'. huh. could it be the dude from yesterday? not bad. you think to yourself.

“that's interesting.” a familiar voice walks up to you and you look up next to you to see him. of course. “i don't know your name but the one across park sol's surely isn't yours...” he muses, a smirk on his face as he looks down condescendingly on your small form.

“well, is it yours?” you ask back. not wanting to make assumptions that he got the part and he just looks at you with a deadpan expression, one hand holding the strap of his backpack. the two of you make eye contact before staring back at the paper in complete silence. “well, i got the part for... ji-sung.” you say silently.

“oh really?” yeonjun asks, you're not sure if it's sarcasm or genuine intrigue but there's a gentle smile on his pretty red lips. “i guess we'll be having a few scenes together. let's formally meet. i'm choi yeonjun.” he turns to face you fully, then glances at the paper to see who got the part for ji-sung, and his eyes flicker back down to you. "so you're y/n?"

“...y/l/n.” you face him as well, then glance back at the paper then around the room. subtly avoiding eye contact, then you look back at him. “i have... a class soon. so.” you begin to walk away from him but he stops you.

"is hannah in that class?” he asks casually and you just slowly shake your head and he nods "'kay." and he waves goodbye. you're curious as to how he knows her yet not too interested to waste your time with it and you head to your last class of the day.

once the class is over, the sun is about to set and you're completely out of energy. your mind is set and ready to just make some cup noodles for dinner and pass out on your bed, not expecting any social interaction after you stuff all your things in your locker and begin to walk out of campus, just passing by the campus gate when a loud, very loud, group of friends is also leaving at the same time as you — they came from the gymnasium as you're aware there's a basketball club and their court is right next to your building, you don't even try to see it but you didn't expect to see a familiar head of pink hair in that group of people. you're aware of how the basketball club is well known in the school so you're surprised he's not as popular as you expected him to be, especially with his looks.

his pretty red lips in his beautiful cheeky smile as he laughs at something his friend mentions and you can't help but feel a little energized at his presence. seeing him felt like a breath of fresh air, but you know he wouldn't talk to you, so you sigh, look away, and continue on your own path, effectively minding your business. your house it's a walkable distance from campus, but your brother insisted that he'd pick you up at the bus stop after class, so you sit at the bus stop and scroll through your phone out of boredom. the familiar loud voices can be heard in the distance, though you try to tune it out, you hear two voices yelling out “bye's” and “take care's” as the group disbands.

“oh. y/n!” yeonjun goes to sit next to you. you're still a bit shy and awkward so you just bow your head slightly and chuckle as a greeting. he is still with his friend so you didn't want to interrupt anything and you continued on using your phone. yeonjun also didn't want to seem rude and make small talk again since it seemed like you were uninterested, so he just continues talking with his friend near you while they waited for a bus, you can't help but eavesdrop and they're talking about... you? ballsy.

"how did you meet them?" his friend inquired curiously. "they are indeed cute," he added, but yeonjun reprimanded his friend, telling him it wasn't appropriate. his friend merely shrugged and said it was a compliment. as the bus arrived, yeonjun's friend boarded the bus first, followed closely by yeonjun. before entering, yeonjun smiled softly at you and waved, prompting you to wave back in return.

a few days passed by, and you've had script readings and rehearsals together, but there hasn't been much interaction with other cast members, particularly yeonjun. he just seems so kind and approachable, yet you can't help feeling nervous about talking to him. he's formed bonds with the other cast members so quickly, leaving you to feel like just a mere acquaintance. you shake your head, reminding yourself that you're probably just another person to him. you try to curb your delulu thoughts of everyone being in love with you solely because you think you're cool.

you hang out with hannah during lunch and sometimes invite her to your house to drink some soju and watch kdrama — she's fine with your obsession with korean media btw and she also enjoys kdrama and the cheesiness accompanied with it. yeonjun starts to recognize you more in hallways and from afar but you're always, and i mean always with hannah, and he began to doubt your relationship with her and now he's kinda sad if u two are dating even tho he never admittedly had a crush on you yet.

after your preliminaries and a day before the stage play, you and your introvert group of friends visit the mall for a small celebration in a restaurant, then you go to the third floor to visit the arcades when you see two familiar faces — yeonjun and his friend. hannah seems to know his friend and she walks up to him. “taehyun? what are you doing here?”

“you know me and yeonjun are basically attached to the hip.” he nonchalantly says and you can't help but feel a little left out. you awkwardly glance at yeonjun and accidentally make eye contact, then you look at hannah, gently tugging at her shirt and pointing to the rest of your friend group who have entered the arcade already.

“see you. i guess.” hannah pointedly eyes taehyun up and down like... judgmentally. she later mentions that they're church mates and that taehyun is their drummer, and she's the singer and you're like ohhhhh.

“so, you know how me and yeonjun are in the play together.” you innocently bring up and she just nods.

“uh, yeah, you brought him up like twice today. everybody recognizes his name.”

“yeonjun? really?” you find that hard to believe since you only ever knew him through the play and you've never heard him anywhere else.

it was d-day the stage play. it was to be performed twjce today and tomorrow held in a theater not too far from town. you were doing a dress rehearsal of the play on the big theater stage without equipment and after your final scene you're walking down the stairs to the backstage when you almost trip on your face, and another one of the actors catches you in his arms— “woah, you good?” you recognize him to be choi soobin who added you on your social media. you know he's a senior so you rarely hang out or talk with him but he's so admittedly attractive. you chuckle a little as you steady yourself and bow your head in apologies and he chuckles back.

“y/n in communications, right?” he asks as he fixes his necktie, he plays the principal of the school. you nod and chuckle as you play with your fingers.

“you're mr. soobin...” you mumble. and he just chuckles at how cute you are as he puts on his glasses for his next scene and climbs to the next scene, you don't miss the wink he gives you as he goes up the stairs and minds his own business. you're blushing so hard and as you turn on your heel and you see yeonjun loosening his necktie nonchalantly as if he didn't just witness you flirting with someone in the cast.

“i thought you had a girlfriend.” he blankly states as he unbuttons his dress shirt and you look away awkwardly as he changes into something more comfortable.

“excuse me?” you ask and he just shrugs as he dabs his sweaty face with a handkerchief and sprays a mist on his angekic features.

“you know, hannah?” he asks and you're just like... face palm.

“no? lmao, we're literally just friends. besides, she's allowing taehyun to court her.” you laugh as you test random shades of foundations you find on the makeup table backstage and yeonjun just nods understandingly as he fixes his hair in the mirror, and then soobin enters the backstage, and everyone else enters the backstage and it's no longer just you two.

later into the day, your next performance is in two hours and everyone is preparing their wardrobe and props and you're having some prosthetics put on your face since your character is a ghost who committed suicide and had half of their face crushed on the fall, and as you're getting your prosthetics done, yeonjun is sitting next to you having his makeup done in silence when you calmly ask if he has any music on his phone since yours is dead and he just replies a nonchalant “knock yourself out.” and he places his phone on the table 'n your just like...? okay. as you grab it, literally nobody has been so chill with their phone like that. so casually, you mischievously sneakily change his wallpaper to a forehead selfie you just took with his phone and begin playing a random spotify playlist he has.

“lmao is this your playlist?” you ask as 'careless whisper' begins to play and he chuckles.

“no, that's my father's. he enjoys the whole old music thingy... cuz... he's old.”

“do you enjoy it?” you ask and he just shrugs.

“i listen to all kinds of music... they're all a bop as long as it has a good beat or message i'd listen to it.” and you nod at his response. makes sense.

“i like hannah's music though.” Yeonjun casually brings up 'n ur like “does he like hannah?” but you just shake your head and dismiss the ridiculous thought.

��yeah, she's a great musician.” you agree and you pick his phone up again to skip the song. “you have any games?” you ask as you look through his phone and he chuckles.

“i have one basketball game... and bitlife.” he mumbles.

“Lord, just get a room you two.” your makeup artist just complains and you two giggle like a bunch of school children, you look over to yeonjun and can't help but feel a little more motivated at the fact that he didn't try to deny it.

the play is over and, well, you two don't really keep in touch anymore. you're in completely different majors and blocks and live two completely different lives. honestly, there wasn't anything romantically strong with your interactions and you didn't think it was worth staying acquainted afterward — especially since you were so distracted with somebody else who kept messaging you... soobin. your senior who seems really interested in you and wasn't afraid to court you. and he's cute. and tall. and reminds you of a rabbit.

he's not super smart and honestly has a great personality, you were obsessed with his looks and voice and the fact that he was a senior and very obviously interested in you was driving you crazy, and you were mostly flirting back and forth... you never really flirted with anyone like this and, well, why not with someone who actually shows some interest in you? it's sad, really, he eventually confesses that he likes you even though it was obvious, but you'd feel so awful if you rejected him now after 'leading him on' for a few months.

you didn't actually like him, you just smiled at his cute texts and was always really nice to him.. and he had an adorable pet hedgehog! and... you didn't expect him to confess so soon. but you tell him to take you on a date first and you'll see how it goes. you post it on your story eventually. “first date with a cutie” or smth and yeonjun can't help but “jokingly” reply “don't go on that shit” 'n ur just like “okay 💀” but you go anyways.

the date was super fun and enjoyable, you first went to the park and took photos, but it was a little hot so you went the food park nearby to buy drinks, then went to the arcade and he attempted DDR which you were shocked when he was super talented in dancing and as the sun set, there was a christmas event at the same park so many lights and then it started snowing. but as he walked you back to your doorstep you realized it all felt so platonic to you... and you hugged him goodnight at the promised curfew your brother gave you and said goodbye to your handsome first date.

yeonjun really wants to ask for details but it's not his place, you two barely talk recently and he honestly doesn't know why he's so interested!! it's your life, you can do whatever the damn hell you want. he irritably throws his phone against the mattress and begins to do his homework as a stress reliever.

a christmas party is being held at hannah's house, ofc ur invited and ofc taehyun is invited so OFC yeonjun is invited, also bang chan and ur brother are acquaintances so they're drinking together on the rooftop. as hannah manages the rest of the party. honestly, the first big party you've attended without your entire family and with people who are your age and not relatives so you were just a little shy when it came to everything. you were in the kitchen when 'perfect blues' started playing, you felt most comfortable there as you drank your 3rd alcoholic beverage of the night — unafraid of getting wasted since this is your bsf's house.

“how'd the first date go?” yeonjun smoothly walks up to you and you laugh.

“didn't work. i didn't feel romantically attracted to him. broke his heart.” you said coldly as you took a sip of your drink and he just sips in air and tilts his head.

“ooh, y/n is cold... who knew.” he teases and you just laugh.

“what can i say, i gave him a chance and it didn't work... maybe my heart just belongs to someone else.” you whisper near him before leaving your drink on the counter and heading toward the couch, sitting in between taehyun and hannah and taehyun is just like? so offended n ur like “hannah can i bang someone in your house?” and she leans in so interested and taehyun looks less offended.

“PLEASE tell me it's...” he manifests, his hands together as he stares at the ceiling.

“it's yeonjun.”

“yes.” you hear taehyun whisper as he fist bumps hannah behind you.

“anywhere but mine and chan's bedroom, i hate to say this but taehyun lend them some of your condoms. bang safe.” she winks.

“oh, yeonjun has a few with him at all times.” taehyun casually just spills and hannah and you shrug like what did you expect honestly.

now with permission, you're looking around the house for the one and only, tipsy but conscious enough to know you want this and you've been wanting this—but not conscious enough to know the rational side of you would most definitely regret this, when you find him leaning against a wall talking with someone you just stare at them until they're done and he's like “hi?” and when you stay silent he's like... “you're drunk.” and you just shake your head.

“can we talk?” you ask.

“okay, sure.” he nods and you lead him to one of the guest bedrooms and you both sit down on the bed and you're just like...

“so... i've never really been one for college life. honestly, not even school life. and all of a sudden i'm some sociable college person and... i thought i'd just be... some silent student focusing on their studies and my personal life outside of school, and that all of my classmates would just be classmates and that was it but... then i met hannah and we became closer than ever i'm convinced we're forever bff's, and, then...”

yeonjun urges you to continue and you just lay down on your back “and then i went on my first date. and then...” you look at him, making eye contact. “i guess i've always liked you... but i... my first date experience didn't end so romantically so i guess i felt a little scared... and i wanted to keep you as... i guess just some college memory of the first boy i actually really fell for.” you say with a raspy voice. the muffled club like music in the background added to the ambience — the guest bedroom designed to be sound proof so not only can sound not get out but it's protected from sounds outside as well because both chan and hannah make music, it's only natural for their guest room... but yeonjun sees this as an advantage and he just looks at you, thinking of every possibility right now.

he settles for going on top of you, both hands by your ears, and then he leans on his forearms to go closer to your face and you're so shocked by the sudden closeness... you've never been this close to anyone before. and i mean anyone and you're just so nervous you close your eyes. “how drunk are you?” yeonjun asks and you gently open your eyes a little bit half-lidded.

“drunk enough to know i want this, not too drunk that you'll be taking advantage of me. i can consciously say that i'll take responsibility for anything that'll happen tonight.” you reply and yeonjun immidiately, hungrily, slams his lips onto yours. it's such a fiery, passionate kiss he's practically eating your lips. he bites your bottom lip and slips his tongue, the classic tactic, but nobody has ever done it to you and it's all moving so fast you could barely process how super fucking hot it was or the fact that his tongue is exploring your mouth right now and he's moaning against you.

he sucks on your bottom lip once, twice then he kisses your jaw, then he goes up to the back of your ear. and marks you right there, and he stops for a moment to take you. “i don't want to be just another college memory. God, y/n...” he whispers against your skin. you're so close to each other yet he wants more. you turn to look at him and you make eye contact for the first time in awhile and you cup his cheek and he leans into it, eyes closed and you place a soft kiss on his plump, red, wet lips and he lets out such a cheeky smile as he stares into your beautiful eyes.

“you're so beautiful like this.” he whispers, alcohol breath intoxicating your senses and you close your eyes.

“you're way more beautiful.. everyday, every time i see you in the hallway.” you confess and he smiles, kissing you on the lips again and again and you open your eyes.

“i was always jealous whenever i saw you hanging out with someone.” he confesses, and you kiss his lips.

“that's a little possessive.” you state and he chuckles.

“you want to see possessive?” you're not sure if he's flirting or joking. maybe both and you like it. he leans over and catches your mouth in a different kiss. it's passionate but less fiery than earlier, more romantic and gentle and he pushes you over to change your position into a more comfortable one as he slowly makes out with you and you moan against his mouth and he just found that so fucking sexy. your hands are now exploring his back, then his neck to his fluffy pink hair and you start playing with it as he sucks on your tongue then your lips and he groans a little, his pants beginning to feel a little restrained. and you grab his shoulder, the other hand moving to palm him through his pants.

he has to stop for a moment to let out the softest moan, he attempts to unzip his pants and you put your hand down his underwear, stroking his length without even seeing it first and he just wants to cum right then and there so badly, the way you hold his dick is so adorable he just wants to treasure this moment forever — but he knows from now on there are going to be many moments to treasure. he moves down to kiss you again—

click.

the sound of the door opening shocks you both. in a frenzy, you quickly pull your hand out of yeonjun's underwear and push him away, he futilely attempts to zip his pants up while you try to fix your hair as a man walks into the room.

it's bang chan. he peaks his head in. “o-oh...!" he exclaims as he slowly processes the situation. "hi...y/n... yeonjun... s-sorry! i really didn't mean to interrupt!” he shuts the door. “and use protection!” you hear his muffled voice through the door.

“woah, what was that, who was he with in there?” you hear changbin exclaim through the door as well. he also happens to be yeonjun's good friend. which makes the hairs on yeonjun's arm lift. the two of you just sit there for a good moment, eyes locking and you erupt into silent laughter. you're a little embarrassed and flustered but you're not ashamed — you got permission, found a room, and you take responsibility for whatever happens, but now you can't really continue, can you?

“maybe next time...” yeonjun mumbles, a little breathless and you nod in agreement, a bit disappointed. “i can take you to dinner tomorrow though, if you can...” he attempted, and you nod, offering him a small, sweet smile and he smiles back, knowing he finally has you... not officially, but he knows he'll make you his in no time.

[sebs-studies]

Unsolicited advice from a second year uni student

Since it's now September and most people I know will be heading either back to school or gearing up for university. And if anyone did what I did they might look at Tumblr to get some studying/life ideas (I did this during my A-levels and ended up making my own blog!). So I wanted to give some general advice from my perspective to anyone who might want it - also this will be specific to the UK but some of it is just general too. Also I want to be able to look back on this since I went back through my blog recently and realised I may have needed this advice even just a year ago.

For those who are about to go to university do not panic (cliché I know) but seriously. You will survive the first year I promise! It obviously varies from person to person and between unis and degrees but the first year will generally be a massive adjustment period in your life. And that will likely impact your mental health. This is totally normal. I got major impostor syndrome the first few months of uni. It wasn't until semester 2 that I started to feel comfortable. And largely because if was an entirely new way of learning and teaching, I had to completely relearn how to study, whilst also learning how to live on my own, and living in a new city and making friends.

You will make friends, it might not be immediately but you will find someone before the end of your first year. I got blessed by chance in making friends, but I know lots of people who it took the entire year to find their people. The unfortunate part of this advice is to make friends you do have to go outside and meet them (and I don't always mean going out drinking although this is definitely an option). Look for societies and clubs at your uni this will be 100% an easy way to meet people. And especially especially in the first few weeks of uni go to the welcome/fresher/first year events. I avoided them because I was anxious but turns out they're an amazing way to meet people because guess what? Everyone else is just as anxious as you are!

Expect your grades to go down at first and don't be discouraged, you can and will get those grades back up. And even if you don't (given that you are passing) it doesn't matter. Grades, especially at grad level are kind of inconsequential for most people. Two things to be mindful of are if you are going for a work placement or study abroad year (if you live in the UK) as first year grades do matter for those. Something no one will probably tell you till it's too late. But even then for most study programs you only need a 60% in your first year. And to just progress you only need a 40% (at most unis double check yours). Point being if there's ever a time for your grades to go down it's now, don't panic, your degree isn't over, you're not an impostor, you deserve to be here.

Everyone is struggling just as much as you are. Don't be fooled by Instagram or whatever. Even though I am guilty of it, we only show the nice parts of our lives online. When I get most stressed I step back from this blog, and you guys don't see the tears, sleepless nights, frustrating, and also kind of gross parts of being a student. So don't be fooled if Amanda from your seminar seems to have a perfect life on her Instagram, chances are she hasn't got it as together as you think, and you are no less better than anyone else in the room.

Save money anyway you can!!! I cannot stress this enough but one of the students biggest issues is spending. I'm guilty too but do your best especially in the first year to not overspend too much. Still enjoy yourself 100%, but do you really need to take out five times a week? Or the new shoes? Trust me by the time you get to your second year and your savings or your loan is gone you'll be wishing you held back a little.

If you are struggling. Talk to someone. For uni students, go to your mentor, academic lead, or look up the mental health service at your uni. Every uni (in the UK) has a mental health team. I know many of us are disillusioned with student support networks but I mean this when I say uni support systems are better funded, more rigorous and it serves them to support you. You are not just a student at the university, you are a customer paying a lot of money to be there. It's important that you are happy and you are progressing, otherwise both you and the uni lose! Don't be afraid to speak up when you need it, there will be someone there.

For UK students look up student groups for your university of Facebook. I'm being 100% serious when I say there is a gold mine of info on Facebook for unis. I never ever post on Facebook but it is so useful for staying in the know on events, stuff currently happening, and lots of student groups are pretty funny/gossipy. Some unis even have pages giving away free stuff from previous students, i.e. crockery, kitchen stuff, speakers etc. I managed to save some decent money on these groups. Also if you're into clubbing this is a pretty good way to learn where the good spots are in your city ;)

Romanticism will only go so far. Don't exhaust yourself on how you look. At the end of the day if you are getting the job done who cares if you did it hunched over a bag of cold McDonalds at 3 am? It's no better than someone with a green smoothie at a coffee shop.

I say a lot of this because my first semester was an emotional rollercoaster. During my GCSEs to A-Levels I thrived academically and then coming to Uni I felt like I was so out of my depth. And it wasn't until the second year I realised that this is, a) normal, and b) not that deep! So you scored a little low on an essay? Take the advice and work on the next one. You had some awkward conversation at a uni event? Everyone has forgotten about it already, give a different event a go. One of my favourite things about university is that it is surprisingly low consequence (in the grand scheme of things). Making mistakes won't end you it's okay. I know everyone on studyblr is a perfectionist but give yourself some leniency please. Anyway that's enough of my ranting. To be honest I expect no one to read this. But I am curious how I'll update it in a year's time once I'm going into third year.

If anyone has any questions about university my DMs are open. (I actually am now a paid guide for welcoming first years so it is literally my job lol).

[kohakhearts]

when people first meet me and inquire about my studies im generally hit with two different responses, being 1) “wow, that’s an unusual combination”/“you don’t see that often”/etc. and 2) “you must be SO smart!” (or its evil twin, “you must hate yourself ha-ha”), and while the first is obviously a better response than the second, both are kinda…awkward to react to.

like? IS it an unusual combination of interests, or is it actually that most institutions make it exceptionally difficult for people to pursue stem and arts concurrently? and that we don’t often talk about the heavy crossover between stem and the arts because we’re so culturally obsessed with this notion that the world is split into Art People and Science People (also known as English People and Math People)?

and how would my interest in a science make me any smarter than someone in my program who chose to pursue a minor in history instead of physics? also, NO, i don’t hate myself. obviously taking stem classes after spending years believing im “not a math person” has lowered my gpa, but that’s not really something i care about, because at the end of the day i find the subject endlessly fascinating and i enjoy my classes very much, and i get better at math every semester because i have no choice. because it’s just…a method of communication. it’s a language. you practice, you improve - but you have to be consistent and intentional about it. the same way you have to be consistent and intentional about analyzing fictional texts and historical documents.

which is to say that like. you are using the same skills. i tutored a high school student last year who looked at me like i was crazy for saying that close reading a short story is functionally the same as solving an algebra problem. you collect like terms. then you compare and contrast them to make a statement about them - it’s human nature to seek refuge in what is familiar even if it is simultaneously traumatic, or x = 2 and y = -2. you can chart it, you can graph it, you can draw it. listen, isn’t there something so inherently beautiful about the word integral? it’s something intrinsic, baked into a person or a thing - the fundamental values formed within you by tiny, infinitesimal pieces: moments, experiences - they coalesce into something completely different, but still. you can go back. you can find the pieces. define them, pick them apart, put them together again in new ways. expand them, contract them, equate them to something else just to understand them.

half the study of mathematics is called analysis, for god’s sake. what is the study of art if not analysis? is it not the goal of the artist, the writer, to make sense of our place in the world? and is this not what we do in physics, too? look at the world and try to find reason in it? as the poet spends their life trying to make the intangible tangible, the particle physicist attempts to study dark matter. when we form a sentence, we utilize a complex system of equations that are so second-nature to us we don’t even register that’s what we’re doing - but there’s a reason this branch of linguistics is called syntactic calculus.

like…believe me. if you told my teenage self i’d be taking calculus-based courses in university, i wouldn’t have believed it. i teach high school students now who tell me they know they aren’t good at english, but it doesn’t matter to them because they do so well in math. and i get it. i do. but it’s disappointing, too, because i think my knowledge of math has made me a better reader and writer. and it feels like most people are missing out on that connection, because they feel like it’s impossible to make. but any experimentalist can tell you there’s an art to the scientific process. any musician or poet can tell you that great art is dictated by numbers - rhythm, rhyme and metre, all of it. the only group of people as interested in conceptual symmetry as physicists are artists.

anyway, all i’m saying is like - one is not more essential than the other, these things are inextricably linked, these things are as fundamental to human existence as breathing. there’s a reason why astronomers defer to shakespeare to name newly discovered bodies in space, you know? we've all gotta learn to love the math in our art and the artistry behind math.

[takami-takami]

The only authorities I actually respect are my maternal grandma and mum. Every other "authority" is just there to do their job. Police? I admire the good ones for what they do but like, not deep enough to actually count as respect in the correct way. You're paid to do what you're doing bro.

My managers at my first job? Admiration to some and for the others is mere cordiality considering that I know their position of power is above mine (doesn't stop me from calling them out tho). I also acknowledge that they have worked longer than I did and knew the ropes better than I do.

My new manager in my second job is cool tho but I get intimidated because I haven't fully acclimated to the workspace but she has been nothing but reassuring and I suppose I respect her for that.

Ok actually I lied I have so much respect for three of my professors and I have this, what my friends and I call, "teacher crush" where you feel like a simp for them except you're only seeking academic validation. Like I would do SO MUCH for them to just look my way and nod approvingly and that's it. I deserve a PhD for that approval. I would grovel at their feet to get a smidgen of their intellect, their wisdom and aura I wish to be like them when I grow up

Like I only truly respect grandma and mama and also 3 of my professors but every one else is meh

- 🪼

RETURN OF JELLYFISH !!!!!!!

I like your answer!! Admiration is one thing but like you said, you will stand your ground if need be and call things when you see them. I like that!

PLEASE THE ACADEMIC TEACHER CRUSH I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT UR TALKING ABOUT!!! Like you. YOU. (GRABBING THEM IN MY FIST). Those professors that are so so SO good in their field and do exactly what you want to do in your career and they're so CASUAL about it like. I do not care about celebrities but I care about you please tell me how you did it I literally own your book.

I have an extremely kind and smart and cool professor in mind for that. I love you Brenda please answer my email I still haven't forgotten how I did my entire semester project on housing first programs and at the end she was like "yeah my HF project had similar results to that study" so casually like WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU STARTED ONE AND DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING THIS WHOLE TIME?!?! I COULD HAVE SEEN YOU IN FUCKING ACADEMIC SEARCH COMPLETE AND YOU DIDN'T THINK TO SAY ANYTHIGN?!?!

Sorry lol but yes I get what you mean!!!

[ejenvs3000w24]

Launching Into Nature Interpretation

Hey Everyone! My name is Evan, in my last semester here at Guelph. Welcome to my blog:)

My current relationship with nature seems to be transitioning from a purely physical perspective to one that strives to learn more about the ins and outs of what makes things possible, and the purpose behind it. Why do certain trees grow in certain environments? Why are certain plants and mushrooms edible and others poisonous? Did we really go through thousands of generations with people eating a certain plant, dying as a result, and now being taught not to eat that certain plant through word of mouth? These are some of the types of questions I ponder as my current relationship with nature grows.

Besides this, my physical relationship with nature now consists of going on hikes with friends, foraging or just finding different shrubs, trees, or fungi, and since the completion of my program, viewing the natural landscape as a medium for sustainable designs. I just finished my program in Landscape Architecture and now finishing up electives. My hope is that I can take what I have gained and apply that knowledge to interpreting nature for others.  At this point in my life I feel so educated about nature and at the same time feel like I have barely scratched the surface.

I discovered these little guys on a walk when I was living in my student house in Guelph. Based on the fact that it was during winter months and growing on a dead piece of hardwood, I'm fairly certain these are Flammulina velutipes, commonly known as velvet shank or enoki mushrooms (they are edible and choice but I'm only a beginner so I just got this cool picture instead)

The wonderful thing about my current relationship with nature is that I never used to think this way. As a kid, I never thought about the purpose behind things in nature, I just assumed a thing is a thing because it grows and that’s it. I believe my perspective towards nature has evolved through experience. Experiencing climbing trees, falling off trees, trying to catch frogs in a local pond, or using a torch to burn a leach off my leg because I was trying to catch frogs in a local pond. I was fortunate enough to grow up in a middle-class household, and so my old home used to back onto a small ravine and mixed deciduous forest.

Every day after school, my brother and I would put on our waterproof boots, maybe pack a granola bar in the pocket for a snack later, and we would just walk. Walk into the forest, straying away from any desired lines, making your own path, jumping in puddles, listening to birds chirping, or getting hit in the face with a buckthorn branch because your brother didn’t wait for you. We would just walk and talk until there was no more forest to be found or until we stumbled upon the next subdivision of neighborhoods. I truly believe this is where my appreciation and curiosity for nature was born. 

A little blurry but I think it still gets the point across lol. My brother on the right and myself on the left after one of the many afterschool hikes.

When thinking about how one develops a sense of place, it typically can happen in more than one setting, and even under different contexts. For me, my sense of place stems from two major experiences in my life so far. The first, already mentioned above, but I really found such bliss going on hikes and walking in the forest behind my childhood home. It’s hard to describe the feeling, but it feels like you are transported into an entirely new world, where you experience taking your first steps past the forest edge, the wind no longer hitting your face and this calm silence grows until it becomes a peaceful white noise. I really felt like this forest was part of my home; I used to call it my backyard when I was younger because it really allowed me to find comfort in nature.

The second experience is going to my cottage every year. For context, my cottage sits on the shores of Georgian Bay, in Lion’s Head, Ontario. My grandad’s father bought the property in 1939, where they moved their little old trailer onto, and built the most vintage-looking bungalow which I now call my cottage. Georgian Bay is an incredible location, I may be biased but if you haven’t been there I highly suggest it. Connected to the Bruce trails and a part of the Niagara Escarpment, this environment offered a radically different landscape than where I grew up, even though it’s only about four hours northwest. The rocky limestones coupled with blue shale make this environment unforgettable and have allowed me to experience having a sense of place in a completely different environment than what I’m used to. Thanks for reading and see you on the next blog:)

View of the Niagara Escarpment at Lion's Head Provincial Park, Ontario

[scarletanpan]

…

That remote-connection-required GitHub program for my school work had me tweaking so hard i. Impulse bought a laptop yesterday. I have been trying to get one for a few years for school bc my tower is so old and struggles and it’d be nice to be able to take my computer anywhere else so I’m not at home 24/7 bc that’s been killing me for years so like. Had to dig into my savings but it’s still a cheap laptop I just needed it to have decent functionality and after being completely unable to get into it without connecting my Microsoft account I then spent hours uninstalling useless programs and turning off all the dumb sponsors and notifications and random ui features that look atrocious bc I forgot windows 11 existed I was still on 10.

This shit fucking sucks so bad every ten seconds Microsoft is begging u to give them every ounce of your information like it’s not even funny. It’s v easy to click into connecting everything u own to ur computer and like i really don’t care if it’s useful go ahead, but like I’m not tryna do all that. Like can I not just. Use the computer?? Maybe without the system constantly saying how much worse my experience is without one. Like no offense I doubt there’s regulations bc no one would think to fucking do it but it should not be legal to require users to sign up to a service to access their own fucking computer they bought. It literally says if u want to use a local account u can, but after u sign in. So now even tho I’ve tried to delete every trace of my email and removed the original account microsoft edge prompts me with it for sign-in when I open it and no option to delete. So they still have my info even tho I didn’t want to give it to them

And ofc they’re a tech company they need data from users to function but if u don’t glance in the settings there’s a lot of extra ones, to the point that I had to take a break from reading them. Like there’s that fucking many and the ui does way too much back and forth that makes it genuinely exhausting to navigate which is. Interesting

The part that frustrates me the most is that there are now so many random buttons and links on the sidebar every single program in order to redirect to some other microsoft-related features that I can barely tell what I’m navigating sometimes. Everything looks the fucking same, I’m trapped in a fucking soft-edge minimalist window nightmare and it makes me nauseous i think

Might be the only one who feels this way but spending a few hundreds dollars on a brand new computer and then logging in to see the desktop covered with every single possible program (or phone app) u might ever want or need transmuted into this bare, technically functional microsoft void that’s still somehow missing most basic features any active user would need and also can’t be uninstalled w/o settings windows 10 and 11 intentionally removed makes me want to crumble into a ball and die maybe. It’s not hard to add it back but. Just baffling how manipulative the design of the entire system is like. This computer hates my fucking guts for not using its features

Oh and the github shit didn’t work either. Just got to watch it rebuild faster. One of the tech guys on my support case told me the move to github was a v sudden deployment they were rushed into and has lead to tons of issues like this. Which of course, I assumed bc it was Not like this last semester but wow. Love to see tech companies fucking over their workers and the quality of their platform for a deal. Like why is tech annoying and depressing and fucking me in so many ways this isn’t good for my future which I hoped would be tech-centered. It will be anyway I just know I’m gonna be mad abt the stupid fucking ways ppl run their businesses the whole time

[simmerdowndee]

uni_dayz episode nine part two

Noah and Laura are headed over to hang out. It’s been nice hanging out with these two, feels like old times. You know, before we decided to start dating and adding that type of chaos in our lives. I hear them at the door. Its open, so they come right on in.

Laura: Koda bear!

Dakota: So happy you guys came over to visit.

Noah: Are you doing okay?

Dakota: Yeah, I’m okay. My workload this semester isn’t too bad. Taking those two courses during the summer benefited me.

I took two courses during the summer to keep my mind off of… you know. It actually worked as they were very heavy instruction on top of my clerkship. Since I did those then, I was able to free up my schedule for other things I may want to do.

Laura: You guys are coming to my graduation, right?

Dakota: Yeah, I don’t know, I may be busy…

Noah: Yeah, I think I have a seminar….

Laura: Are you guys serious?

*Noah and I bust out laughing*

Dakota: Of course, we’ll be there.

Noah: I wish I took a picture of your face.

Laura: Assholes.

Dakota: I’m so excited for you!

Laura: I am excited too. I am working on my first exhibit soon.

Noah: We get VIP, right?

Laura: The best of the best for my besties.

Dakota: I can’t wait to see it.

Dakota: What are we doing this weekend?

Laura: Uh… I have a date.

Dakota: Ooh with who?

Laura: Someone from my program…...

Dakota: You have a picture of her?

Noah: Yeah, stop being secretive.

Laura: Here, nosy.

Dakota: She’s very pretty Laura.

Noah: She looks familiar…….

Laura: Please don’t tell me you’ve dated her……….?

Noah: No, not one of mine.

Dakota: One of yours, what do you have a fucking roster or something?

Noah: You sound jealous.

Laura: It sounds like you guys are flirting, stop.

*Dakota laughs*

Dakota: Well, I have nothing to do this weekend so… movies and junk food it is.

Noah: Do you want to go with me to this new arcade?

Dakota: There’s a new arcade?

Noah: Yeah, and it as DDR.

Dakota: I LOVE DDR. YES, LET’S GO.

Noah: I knew you’d say yes. I’ll pick you up around 8:30

Laura: First it was flirting and now you’re going on a date….

Dakota: I take you on dates all the time?

Laura: Because its me.

Noah: Wow.

Noah: Don’t be mad she likes me more.

Laura: Please. I am the love of her life.

Dakota: Its true.

Noah: No DDR for you then.

Dakota: Awh c’mon baby.

*Noah gets incredibly red*

*Dakota and Laura bust out laughing*

Laura: I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!

Noah: Jesus you are loud.

Dakota: Yeah, I’m getting a migraine girl.

Laura: No? C’mon!

We banter a bit before we all head out to go eat lunch. I’m excited to hang out with Noah this weekend. I haven’t really been out in a while. It will be refreshing to see walls not located in my townhome.

Meanwhile…. In Windenburg

(Theo’s POV)

I’ve been in Windenburg for about 4 months now, and It’s been good. I’ve met a lot of new people in my program. School is also going well. Its interesting to study from across the world. I completed my first week of work and we had our first big win with a client. My team is going out to celebrate. I have to admit, when we secured our first client, the first person I was ready to tell was Dakota. I haven’t really gotten used to not being able to text or call her when I want. To be quite honest, I miss her. I miss her a lot.

Ana: Theo, are you coming?

Theo: Huh, yeah. I’ll be right there.

I’ve thought about just saying fuck it and calling her, but every time I get ready to push the call button, I back out. I wouldn’t even know what to say to her….

I hope she’s doing well.

[trinity-mia]

a story as endless as the ocean

the lightning thief

0.3 hurricane season

warnings : abusive home life, cussing

word count : 5.8k

0.3 Hurricane Season Comes a Couple Months too Early 

If I were religious, this confessional probably would've hit a little bit harder, but— y'know. It's never too late to repent or whatever the Christians say. 

I completely ditched Grover the second the bus made a complete stop. His bladder acted up every time he got anxious or nervous and this time was no different. He bolted for the bathroom the second he got off the bus.

He made me promise to stay right where I was and he'd be back in a second. But whatever happened, I had to stay there. 

I felt so guilty starting my bike back up. I'd even hoped it would be loud enough to grab his attention and make him come running back out to stop me. But it was New York, and the roar of my engine just blended in with the other loud noises. He didn't come out. So I left. 

He was out of sight and he was just freaking me out too much. And I had just finished a school year, which meant I was less than an hour from seeing my mother. The feeling of needing to see her just became too overbearing. 

A few words about her, just before you meet her.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she is actually the greatest, most genuinely perfect person I've ever met. Which, by the way, just proves my theory that the best people have to worst luck. It was kinda sad really. Her parents both died in a plane crash when she was five, so she had to move in with her uncle. He didn't really care for her all that much, so she spent more than enough of her life feeling neglected and unwanted. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent highschool working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma. 

The best break she seemed to have ever gotten was meeting my dad. 

I have no memories of him, just this kind of... warm glow, maybe the barest trace of a smile. My mom doesn't like talking about him and she doesn't have any pictures. She said he was rich and important, so for all I know, I could've met him at an A-list party or something without knowing of any relation between us. 

The only problem with that was: no one in Hollywood looked like me, which for the record is funny— because I've met almost too many who would pay every dollar they have in order to do so. I've had many plastic surgeons tell me my face was the most requested one for women who came to them. 

RDJ, who played my father in the MCU as our Tony/Celeste Stark father-daughter duo, had once offered to be my fill-in father, once. I'd only laughed him off, but secretly wouldn't have minded. With how much advice I always asked of him, it was like he filled the roll in, anyway. 

But aside from that, it also isn't an odd thing to say because I look nothing like my mother. Everything to do with my facial structure and features came from my father because my mom's features don't match mine and our hair and eye color are both different. And there is also the even bigger point of: my mother said that he'd needed to go overseas to do whatever he did. So he set sail over the Atlantic and never came back. 

She'd always said he was lost at sea. Never dead, just lost at sea. 

Either way, she worked odd jobs to provide for us, even though I could've done it myself. She always hated it when I spent my money on her, so she didn't let me buy an apartment, at least not one she'd live in, and she didn't let me buy my Harley. She paid for food and everything else because she is a stubborn woman and "doesn't want anyone's charity— not even her daughter's." 

She took night classes to get her high school diploma because she'd gotten pregnant right after what would've been the start of the second semester of her freshman year of college (at least, if everything had gone her way). She couldn't go back to actual high school, so she did it during the night and online. She never complained or got mad, which was kinda crazy, all things considered. I was not an easy child, not by a long shot. 

That, combined with paparazzi always following me around, combined with how awfully I got along with my asshole stepfather, her life was a trainwreck. She'd married Gabe when I was around 5 or 6. He'd been nice the first few seconds we knew him, but quite soon after revealed his true world-class asshole, misogynistic colors. As I grew up, I'd started calling him a range of nicknames, most including curse words that my mother always gave me a dirty look for saying. 

I didn't know if it was just me being superstitious or paranoid or something, but I always felt gross around him. He stared at me like I was a piece of meat or a stack of 100 dollar bills or something. It always made me feel like I needed to take five showers and scrub a layer of skin off of my body. 

Just to add salt to the wound, he smelled awful. Like so bad to the point where I'd have to apply perfume outside of my apartment because it would wear off the second I walked into the same room as him. 

The two of us made my mom's life a living hell, with how much we hated each other and how awfully he treated her. When I get home is a really good example of how our 'step-father, step-daughter' "relationship" worked. 

Our apartment was pretty small, mostly because it was coming from mom's money and not mine. When I needed a fix of seeing my mom, this is where I'd hunker down, but that didn't mean I lived there full-time. I had my own apartment in my name in the Upper East Side, almost too luxurious for a seventeen-year-old, but there were certain pretenses I had to set as "Hollywood's  Shining Star". Plus, I needed a few bones to throw paps whenever they got too close to figuring out my mother's address. The absurdly large amount of rent I paid, in addition to giving me an escape whenever Gabe pissed me off too much, was another way I attempted to save my mother. I'd been used to the business for my whole life, she still didn't understand many of the ways my world worked. 

But even as small as it was, Gabe mostly took over the living room so he could play poker with his buddies, so that always made it seem even smaller. I never knew why he enjoyed playing so often, since the times he won were few and far between. The T.V. blared ESPN, talking about an NFL player who'd hurt his hamstring during practice. I'd hoped my mom would be home, but I doubted it. Stale chips and beer cans were strewn all over the place. Oh, if only the cameras could see me now. 

He hardly looked up from his cigar, but I knew he knew it was me. "Well, there's my darling step-daughter, home from school. I was wondering when you'd make it home. Got any cash stuffed up that bra of yours?"

"No. Is my mom home yet?" I asked, praying he wouldn't actually check. 

He raised a greasy eyebrow. "She's still working. And don't lie to me, I know you love carrying cash around. I'd say you have a few twenty's in there. Maybe even a hundred or two. C'mon sweetheart. Just a little something for your step-daddy. Wouldn't want me to check now would you?"

Fuck. I sighed mentally. He could sniff money out like a goddamn bloodhound, which was funny considering his smell should've masked everything else. He was right though, not that I'd tell him; I did have a few twenties and two hundred dollar bills. And I definitely did not want him checking, considering the only time that happened was when I'd been close to getting sexually assaulted by another dude who came over to play poker with the asshole in front of me. 

I gritted my teeth and pulled out some of the cash that's been there. I slowly counted it in front of him, $280 in total, and used a little sleight of hand to give him only $60. It was a little trick my instructor had taught me a few months prior when I was filming Now You See Me. 

Gabe managed the Electronics Mega-Mart in Queens, but he stayed home most of the time. I never knew why he hadn't been fired long before. He just kept on collecting paychecks, spending the money on cigars that made me nauseous, and on beer, of course. Always beer. I may have enjoyed a drink or two here or there— a bit of wine at dinners, and a bit of tequila and others at certain parties— but I was never able to stomach beer. Even the smell made me sick. No doubt Games proclivities were to blame. Whenever I was home, he expected me to provide his gambling funds. He called that our "little secret." Meaning, if I told my mom, he would punch my lights out. Again.

"Gabe, the girl just got home. And she makes the money herself. Shouldn't you give her a break?" Eddie, our on-the-older-side-and-mostly-better-than-the-rest-of-Gabe's-asshole-friends building manager said, doing his best to reel Gabe in, to no avail. 

Gabe twisted his face into a frown, making his quadruple chins ripple. "Now why would I do that? She's Hollywood's bitch. She's loaded and I'm her step-father. If anything, I deserve the money she gives me considering I agreed to raise her freakshow self." He threw the money I'd given him to the middle of the table. "Give me my chips. Let's start another round."

I left as soon as the money started getting counted and replaced with chips. I was not in the mood to get screamed at for not giving him the full amount. 

My suitcase had been thrown haphazardly into the hallway, kind of close to where my bedroom door was. I picked it up on my way and once I made it into my room, I tossed it onto my bed. Gabe wanted to use my room as his own personal 'man-cave' while I wasn't in school, but my mother always made sure my door was locked and he wasn't smart enough to break-in. 

Home sweet home, I grumbled in my mind, pulling out the nearest perfume and spraying it generously. Gabe's smell was almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds, or the sound of that old fruit lady's shears snipping the yarn.

But as soon as I thought about that, my legs felt weak. I remembered Grover's look of panic— how he'd made me promise I wouldn't go home without him. A sudden chill rolled through me. I felt like someone— something— was looking for me right now, maybe pounding its way up the stairs, growing long, horrible talons. Step by step, almost there—

Then, with one single word, my fears melted away. 

"Allie?" My mom's voice called. 

I felt my whole body immediately relax. My mother could make me feel good just by walking into the room. Her eyes sparkled and changed color in the light. Her smile, as warm as a quilt. She'd gotten a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never thought of her as old. When she looked at me, it was like she was seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Gabe.

"Oh, Allie!" She cried, almost tackling me onto my bed with a hug. "You look so grown up! I can't believe my princess graduated today!"

Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. She'd brought me a huge bag of "free samples," the way she always did when I came home. My dietician hated it, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. 

We sat together on the edge of the bed. While I attacked the blueberry sour strings, she ran her hand over my double dutch braids and demanded to know everything I hadn't called or texted her about. She asked about all the new movies I'd starred in since the beginning of the year and talked a lot about college. She mentioned a few interviews I'd done, and my cover of Vogue that I'd told her about, but hadn't come out yet. All she wanted to talk about was me. Was her baby okay? Was she doing all right?

She'd been in the middle of saying something about Columbia when Gabe interrupted from the other room. "Hey, Sally! How 'bout you make us some bean dip?"

I saw her shoulders sag, just slightly, and I knew she saw my whole body tense. She knew I hated him and she knew how much I wanted to stab him in the eye with a spoon, but she always wanted us to get along. My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to one of the hot actors who'd played as my dad in some of my movies, not this ass.

For her sake, I'd tried to sound super happy about my last year of high school, but in all honesty, it sucked. I suffered from a bad case of senioritis (even though I wasn't really a senior) and I got sexualized and catcalled almost daily. I didn't tell my mom about that, though. I also didn't tell her about Mrs. Dodds or the old ladies. With the usual horrible stuff she read about me on the internet, she didn't need anything to add to her worry. 

"I have a surprise for you!" She said, and she snapped her fingers like she always did once she remembered something she'd forgotten. "We're going to the beach. I want to use the beach house you bought a lot now since, for this moment, you don't have shows or movies to worry about and you won't have to model again for a few more weeks."

I perked up immediately. Our summer beach house was virtually the only thing my mother let me buy with my own money. At least, the only thing that she'd use, too. Her parents used to rent it out until they died, which is where she'd hunkered down when her uncle died. She stayed there for a week to wallow in her misery before she had to rejoin society, lest she blow all her money to stay there. She'd met my dad there, on her last night. She never had the nerve to go back until I was around six, also around the time of her and Gabe's first year of being married. She tried to make it back every year, but it was a large and expensive beach house in the Hamptons, and cost a lot of money to rent out, even for a night. 

By the time I was 12, I had a pretty good understanding of life and why the number in my bank account could actually be a great thing, even if it was accompanied by a countdown for how long it would be until I turned 18. I'd asked Danny to look into buying it out, and low and behold, the woman who owned the property was looking to sell, as she was close to having blown all of the money she'd inherited from her dead Oil-Tycoon husband and didn't feel the need to care for it anymore. She was all too happy to sell it to me. 

But I'd done all of that behind my mother's back and she almost boycotted going that year entirely, before deciding this would be the only thing she'd relent on. She strong armed me into an agreement that I'd never spend so much money on something that had to do with her again, however, and not wanting to see the disappointed look on her face due to not being able to provide me the same luxuries I could provide myself, I relented. She knew how much it meant to me, being able to go to the house every year with her, and since I'd already bought it, there wasn't much else she could do. 

"Uh, when?!" I asked, almost jumping up and down. 

"Once I get packed, we will be ready to go. You already have your suitcase of clothes and things here, so all I need to do is get my stuff ready. I'll take your step-father's car and you can take your Harley."

Quick bit of information: I kinda have a car obsession. So I own many cars, however, they are all stationed at our beach house in East Hampton. I wasn't about to temp Asshole Gabe into wanting to drive my luxury cars. The only vehicle of my own that was always near, was my Harley, which I knew made my mom happy. I tended not to use any of the cars I bought around her, for the same disappointed look reasons. 

Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?" 

I wanted to punch him, but I met my mom's eyes and I understood she was offering me a deal: be nice to Gabe for a little while. Just until she was ready to leave for East Hampton. Then we would get out of here. 

"I was on my way, honey," she told Gabe. "We were just talking about the trip." 

Gabe's eyes got small. "The trip? You mean you were serious about that?" 

"Pig," I muttered. "He won't let us go, will he?" 

"Of course he will. He doesn't have control over you anyways," my mother said evenly. I tried to ignore her emphasis on 'you.' "Your step-father is just worried about money. That's all. Besides," she added, "Gabriel won't have to settle for bean dip. I'll make him enough seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works."

"Money," I scoffed under my breath. "I bought the damn house. The only money we spend going is the gas money we use getting there and back." 

Gabe softened a bit. "So this money for your trip... it comes out of your clothes budget, right?" 

"Yes, honey," my mother said placatingly, settling her hand on my arm to keep me from pouncing. 

"And you won't take my car anywhere but there and back?" 

"We'll be very careful." 

Gabe scratched his double chin. "Maybe if you hurry with that seven-layer dip... And maybe if the girl apologizes for interrupting my poker game." 

Maybe if I cut off your dick with a butter knife, I thought. And make you sing soprano for a week. 

But my mom's eyes warned me not to make him mad. 

Why she put up with this guy was beyond me. I cleared my throat quietly, preparing for the intense acting energy I was about to exert. Red leather, yellow leather. Red leather, yellow leather.

"I'm so terribly sorry," I lied, "for interrupting your incredibly important poker game. Please go back to it right now."

Gabe's eyes narrowed and for a moment I doubted my acting and lying skills, but then he rolled his eyes. I guess his tiny brain couldn't detect the intense sarcasm in my voice. 

"Yeah, okay. Whatever," he settled on. He went back to his game. 

"Thank you, Allie. Let me go get ready. Get your helmet and keys and I'll be right back."

She left to go pack and make Gabe his seven-layer dip. 

We were ready to leave an hour later. Gabe watched me roll mine and my mom's suitcases down to his car and kept watching as I got my bike ready. 

He yelled down to me once I finished putting my mom's suitcase in the trunk. "There better not be a single scratch on that car once you bring it back or there'll be hell to pay. I'll have a beer bottle with your name on it waiting. I'm sure it'll love getting broken over your head and I'm sure you remember how that felt last time."

I wasn't going to be driving, but I doubt he cared. It'd be my fault because I was easy to push around and had a lot more money than my mother. He'd find something to blame on me and that beer bottle would connect with my skull at some point. As long as he could hold my mother over my head, he had the upper hand. 

Watching him lumber back toward the apartment building, I got so mad I did something I can't explain. As Gabe reached the doorway, I made the hand gesture I'd seen Grover make on a few different occasions while we were in school. I thought it was a sort of warding-off-evil gesture, a clawed hand over my heart, then a shoving movement toward Gabe. 

The screen door slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the ass and sent him flying up the stair-case as if he'd been shot from a cannon. Maybe it was just the wind or some freak accident with the hinges, but I didn't stay long enough to find out.

Once I saw my mom walking towards me I got on my bike, put my helmet on, and was ready to drive as soon as she'd opened her door. 

Our beach house was very large and sat right on the beach. It was perched right at the end of the neighborhood and was easily the largest house in a couple-mile radius. There was a shitton of rooms, most of which weren't used often, so there would be a few cobwebs if it wasn't taken care of. The beach had white sand, the same shade as my hair and the seas were normally pretty cold. 

So, of course, I loved the place. 

It calmed me down in a way nothing else could. The water hitting my feet made me feel like I could do anything. Like the feeling you get when you walk out of a movie theater and you feel like you could conquer the world, except I don't feel like I'm in a daze. It's quite the opposite, actually. I feel wide awake. 

As we got closer, my mom always seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea. I didn't even have to be in the same car as her to know that. 

We got there at sunset, opened all the windows (well, not all the windows. Mostly the ones in the living room and on the main floor), and went through our usual cleaning routine. We walked on the beach, fed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and munched on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work.

Should I explain the blue food?

Gabe had once told my mom there was no such thing. They had this fight, which seemed like a really small thing at the time. But ever since, my mom went out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop. This— along with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano— was proof that she wasn't totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, which wasn't shown often, but did remind me that I did get a few things from her. My polite streak was proof of that. 

When it got dark, we made a fire. We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom told me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She told me about the books she wanted to write someday when she had enough money to quit the candy shop.

I told her I'd get her a laptop and an editor and a publisher right then and there, but she would hear nothing of it. If she wanted to be an author, it wouldn't be because of her famous daughter. She'd probably use a fake last name so it wouldn't seem like she was leeching off of me. I asked her why she wanted to go the hard route and she smiled and shook her head at me; the 'you'll understand when you're older' went without saying. 

Eventually, I finally got enough nerve to ask about my father, one of the few things that was always on my mind when we were here. My mom's eyes went misty and I almost took the comment back, but I stood my ground. She took two blue jelly beans from the bag. I figured she'd tell me the things she always did, but I never got tired of hearing them. 

"He was kind, Allie," she said. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But he was also gentle. You look exactly like him, it's almost uncanny. If you were to style your hair the same way he did his and had the same physique, you two would be impossible to tell apart. You have his white hair and those pretty green-blue eyes. And you definitely didn't get your height from me." 

That was true. I'd passed my mother in height a while ago. She was very short and petite, and while I did get the petite from her, I was also tall and curvy. 

"I... I wish he could see you now, Allie. He'd be so damn proud."

I was shocked. For one, I'd never heard my mother curse. Ever. And secondly, I couldn't quite decide what was so special about a 16-year-old girl who got sexualized on the internet, in public, and pretty much everywhere else. Sure I'd quickly become one of the highest paid actors and models in the world and just that previous September I released the most streamed album of the year, but what would that really mean in the long run? Hollywood is wishy-washy on the best of days, and fame is fickle. The countdown was nearing on a year and two months. It would only get worse the more I did. The more people who knew my name meant a lot more trouble for me. On dark days, I wondered if the trouble was worth it. 

"Did he... stick around? After I was born, I mean," I asked, trying very hard to keep my voice from cracking. It was close, but I think I did it. 

"He... he came to see you a few times. His work was very serious and he didn't have a lot of time. But he saw you." 

I nodded slowly, taking it in. I guessed that was why I'd remembered something about him. I wasn't about to tell my mother that, though. She was already on the verge of crying as it was. I felt like that would set her over the edge. 

"I was going to ask you... I got offered by Warner Brothers to do another movie. They wouldn't start filming for a while, but they wanted to go ahead and get the cast done. It's filming in Georgia, though. They said they might be able to pull a few strings and move it to New York, but Georgia would be ideal. Would you be okay with that?" 

"I don't know, Allie. There's a lot I need to think about right now. I'd feel better if you didn't leave. You know how worried I get every time you board a plane."

"I know. It's just, this one's... different. I think it would... I really want—"

"You know," my mom said, standing up slowly, "I'm getting a little tired. I think I'm going to turn in for the night. Please don't stay up too late. We can talk in the morning."

I just nodded and my mother left me to my thoughts. The wind picked up a little, and my hair flew from my shoulder to my back. My head fell to my right hand as I tried to rub away the headache that was starting to form. 

I only looked up when I felt someone watching me. I could've sworn it was coming from the ocean, but I didn't stay long enough to figure out if anything was there. I was not trying to be the stupid one in the horror movie. No thanks. I brushed my hair with my fingers as I walked into the house.

That night I had an awful dream, shocker shocker. 

It started with a whole bunch of memories I'd tried to suppress of all the bad things that had happened to me throughout my life. 

During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked me on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed me when I told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head. 

Before that— a really early memory. I was in preschool, and a teacher accidentally put me down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into. My mom screamed when she came to pick me up and found me playing with a limp, scaly rope I'd somehow managed to strangle to death with my meaty toddler hands.

And there was one time when I was thirteen and I'd seen a huge lion prowling the edge of a forest we were filming near. I noticed every time the camera would move in its direction, it'd retreat back to the forest and then come back out once the camera moved. Finally, it just leaped away after hours of us filming and no one getting near it. 

Then, the dream changed. 

It was storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse and a golden eagle, were trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagle swooped down and slashed the horse's muzzle with its huge talons. The horse reared up and kicked at the eagle's wings. As they fought, the ground rumbled, and a monstrous voice chuckled somewhere beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.

I ran toward them, knowing I had to stop them from killing each other, but I was running in slow motion. I knew I would be too late. Both animals lunged at each other and before I could see what happened I woke with a start. 

Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery. 

With the next thunderclap, my mom woke. She ran into my room, eyes wide, and said, "Hurricane." 

I knew that was crazy. Hurricanes were never seen around here this early in the summer. But the ocean seemed to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my hair stand on end. 

Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice— someone yelling, pounding on our front door.

My mother grabbed both of our suitcases and ran to the front door, a floor down from us. I followed her down to the foyer. 

She threw my suitcase to me and slung open the door. 

Grover stood there, out of breath and looking like he needed a seat. However, he looked different. What the fuck...?

"Searching all night," Grover gasped. "What were you thinking?" 

My mother looked at me in terror— not scared of Grover, but of why he'd come

"Allie!" she said, shouting to be heard over the rain. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?"

I was frozen, looking at Grover. I couldn't understand what I was seeing. 

"O Zeu kai alloi theoi!" he yelled. "It's right behind me! Didn't you tell her?" 

I was too shocked to register that he'd just cursed in Ancient Greek, and I'd understood him perfectly. I was too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here, by himself, in the middle of the night. 

My mom looked at me sternly and spoke in a tone she'd never used before: "Allie. Tell me now!" 

I stammered something about the old ladies at the fruit stand and Mrs. Dodds, and my mom stared at me, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.

She grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to Gabe's car, pushing past Grover on her way. She took my suitcase and threw me into the driver's seat. Grover got in the back, while my mom ran to the passenger's side and sat down with my suitcase in her lap. 

She didn't even let me ask a question. She just put the keys in the ignition and said, "drive. Now. I'll tell you where to go. Take a left up here."

Now that we were in the car and I had more things to worry about, I finally processed many things. Grover's muscular disease finally made sense to me. Because he didn't have legs. Well, he did, but they weren't human legs. They were more like farm animal legs, all thrown together with fucking hooves.

*    *    *

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[dottozhuu]

ೃ༄ MUN INTRO

╰┈➤ Hello! My name is Mel, I’m 20 years old, my pronouns are he/thy, and my timezone is GMT. I am a full-time student in my last semester of undergrad, and also currently in the process of planning to pursue a doctoral program in my field of study! I am currently in search of a new thread or a few, after taking a decently long hiatus from writing; I’d love to get back into the swing of things.

ೃ༄ RULES

╰┈➤ I have some pretty basic/self-explanatory rules and boundaries, when it comes to writing with me. They are as follows:

Please be 20+ to write with me. I only prefer to write with people very close to my age, or older than me. This is a hard requirement.

Please do not pester me for a reply if it has been less than a day or two’s time, or become passive aggressive about it; just talk to me if you have a question regarding timeliness. It’s completely fine to check in, but I have a very active life outside of the internet, so it may take me a handful of days at times to get a lengthier reply sent. That being said, if it has been 4+ days, do ping me! I also tend to be forgetful at times.

I am completely fine with any length, when it comes to writing style; I do not write with people who use asterisks, but, as for how long replies are—let me know what you’re feeling, and I’m happy to match it!

I do not, and will not ever, write any content that is illegal or morally questionable; very specifically speaking, I will not write topics that involve ||pedophilia, or incest.|| This is non-negotiable.

Please feel free to contribute any and all ideas you may have, when coming up with a plot with me! I absolutely love witnessing other people’s creative prowess in action, so don’t be shy!

I am completely fine with nsfw themes, but typically prefer to have some build-up beforehand. I am also okay with simply fading to black, or avoiding nsfw topics altogether—just let me know what you’re comfortable with, too, and that’s great with me! I write all of my characters as switches, and prefer to write with somebody who does similarly in regard to nsfw content.

ೃ༄ MUSES

╰┈➤ I have a couple of muses, but the ones that I am partial to penning are italicized:

Zhongli/Morax.

Kaveh.

Alhaitham

Diluc Ragnvindr.

Kaeya Alberich.

Cyno.

Tighnari.

Arataki Itto.

Wriotheseley.

Baizhu.

Neuvillette.

ೃ༄ PAIRINGS

╰┈➤ Honestly, I am an absolute sucker for rarepairs. I am happy to make any ship work, so long as both of us are passionate about our muses! Throw your wildest ideas at me, and I’ll eat it up every time (so long as they’re morally fine) LOL. That being said, romance is definitely not a necessity within our thread if you don’t want it to be.

I do personally have some favorite pairings, which are:

Kavetham

Dottozhu

Cynari

Kaveh/Childe

TartaLi/Zhongchi

Chiluc

ೃ༄ THEMES/AUS I AM SEARCHING FOR

╰┈➤ I love canon compliant threads just as much as I love ones that center around AUs, so feel free to reach out if either of those sound appealing to you more generally. More specifically speaking, however, I am in search of threads that incorporate one or some of these sorts of themes and/or AUs:

• ROYAL AU

Suspense

Horror/Psychological Horror

Surrealism

Scream AU (or any sort of other horror movie/slasher flick au tbh‼️)

80’s AU

╰┈➤ If any of this seems appealing to you, don’t hesitate to reach out on tumblr or discord, my discord is dottozhuu and I’ll respond and/or via messaging ASAP. Thank you!