#(that I definitely haven’t been procrastinating)

[salmonballsss]

The Violet Hour

(Chapter 4)

You are a young, awkward historian obsessed with the Salem witch trials. One name repeats through obscure documents: Agatha Harkness. She's not supposed to exist anymore. But when you find a book authored in her name and follow the trail to a remote New England town, you're met with a woman who looks nothing like she belongs in your century—and who wants absolutely nothing to do with you…

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: None yet.

So… it’s been a couple hours.  

Or days?  

Oh, who am I kidding.

Yeah.

Days. 

You just couldn’t do it.

Come running back to Agatha’s house the very next day after finally meeting her? Please.

Then she’d just think you were clingy. Desperate. Some needy little grad student flinging herself back to her feet after one morsel of attention. One crumb of eye contact.

She was right.   

You were like a lost puppy.

The past few days have been filled with aimless wandering around Hollow Wood — mostly the central part of town, which you’ve now memorized down to the cracks in the sidewalks and the smell of the bakery. You haven’t ventured out into the woods or the rural trails just yet.

Well… not until today. 

You’d just finished getting a painfully late sandwich — 3 PM, because apparently time doesn’t exist anymore — and had slinked back into your hotel room. The place creeped you out at first, but it’s starting to grow on you.  

Like mold.  

Charming, quirky, historic mold.

The townsfolk are nice enough. A little nosy, a little bored. It’s got that classic small town energy — where everyone knows each other’s birthdays, breakups, and bowel movements. During your walks, you’ve strained your ears shamelessly eavesdropping on conversations,  hoping— 

No.  

Begging. 

To hear anything Agatha related.

But no dice. Not even a whisper. No mysterious woman in purple. No town legend. No nothing. 

Maybe Billy was right. Maybe she is a dead ghost lady.  

Maybe you wandered onto haunted land and Agatha’s just a projection.  

A cursed mirage.

Maybe she died in a witch trial hundreds of years ago and now only appears to lonely sapphics with trust issues.

Pft. Yeah. Right. 

You shake your head and pull your pants on, followed by your ever reliable Converse.

Today, you were going to one of the Salem Witch Trials sites Agatha mentioned during your “not an interview” interview.

It’s for research.  

Academic integrity.  

Totally.

You tried writing your thesis to kill time, but without your notebook, it’s like your brain has eaten itself and declared a strike. No notes, no quotes, no structure. Just you staring at a blinking cursor like it personally betrayed you.

You even flipped through every cursed channel on the ancient hotel TV — hoping for a history special, a documentary, anything related to Hollow Wood…

Nothing.

Of course.

You grab your bag and the replacement notebook you bought in town just two days ago. Though… you don’t think you’ll be using it much longer. Not once you get your hands back on your real notebook — the one in Agatha’s possession.

You sigh and head out of the hotel room, using the old brass key to lock it up. You'd scream if you lost anything else — or if something got stolen because you didn’t double-check the lock.

As you leave the hotel lobby, you pull your rain cover on. You’d made it a habit to check the weather every morning since meeting Agatha. You’ve learned Hollow Wood, much like back home in Washington, is the definition of weather-induced whiplash.

One minute it’s torrential rain and borderline hail. The next? Blue skies and a goddamn rainbow.

You make your way into town, passing by the shops you’ve already tourist-trapped and explored while procrastinating — instead of, you know, being a big girl and going to get your notebook back like an actual adult.

A few of the shops had actually been cute. You even bought a sweatshirt from one. Adorable. You’ve been bonding with retail therapy.

Eventually, you reach the edge of town. It’s sunny today, which you take as a personal gift from the gods — at least you won’t have to lug around a stupid umbrella while hiking through the woods like a history-obsessed Bigfoot.

Yes that was a Washington joke. 

Once you reach the small ranger park just outside of town, you pass a few teens and adults lounging around, laughing and talking like normal people.

Maybe if you got Agatha to like you—

No!

No. Not going there.

You reach a rocky trail — the one you know leads to the rural land that houses one of the old Salem Witch Trial sites. Specifically, the cemetery.

Locals have mentioned it. A few of the braver teens trek up there to ��prove something,” only to come back pale and tight lipped, refusing to talk about what they saw.

---

The trail is longer than you remember from Google Maps.  

It winds through thick trees, moss draped branches, and enough uneven rocks to personally ntarget your ankles. You almost roll one twice, but you just mutter something about “historic suffering” and keep going.

Because this is research.  

Real academic field work.  

You’re out here touching grass — haunted grass — for the sake of your thesis. Your future PhD committee better give you a damn sticker for this.

It’s beautiful, though. The kind of eerie, untouched beauty that makes you forget you’re technically trespassing on possibly-cursed land. The forest is quiet. Not silent — there's the occasional bird, the crunch of your steps, the wind whispering like it knows things — but quiet in a way that feels intentional. Like the woods are watching.

And you're flattered, honestly.

You keep walking. Your bag bumps against your hip with each step, your replacement notebook tucked safely inside along with a bottle of water and a sad excuse for a granola bar you shoved in there earlier.

About twenty minutes in, you pause for a second to catch your breath. The trail’s gotten steeper — of course it has — and the canopy overhead is starting to thicken, casting everything in a soft green twilight.

Still no rain, though.  

So far, so good.

You check your phone: 4:17 PM. You’ve got time. You’re making good pace. You take a quick swig of water, adjust your bag, and keep moving.

By the time you see the crooked wooden sign half-buried in ivy, your heart skips a beat — okay, two. One from exertion, and one from excitement.

Historic Salem Burial Site — 1 Mile Ahead 

You grin. Like, full on nerdy grin.  

This is it.

You can practically taste the dusty archives and ghost stories. You’re already imagining how you’ll word the next section of your thesis: A firsthand walk through early colonial terrain revealed the emotional residue embedded in the land itself… 

Ugh. Beautiful.

You press on with renewed energy, practically skipping like some kind of Disney princess. If birds landed on your shoulders right now,you wouldn't even question it.

It’s almost 4:45 by the time the trees thin out and the forest floor begins to dip downward, the ground softening under your steps. There's a break in the brush, and just ahead — barely visible through the trees — you can see it.

The cemetery.

Or at least what's left of it.

Sunlight filters through the branches in dusty gold beams, and beyond them are the lopsided silhouettes of headstones. Cracked. Weathered. Old enough to make your chest flutter.

You stop just at the edge of the clearing, standing still. You’re panting a little, cheeks flushed from the hike, shoes muddy, hair probably sticking out in all the wrong directions. But none of that matters.

Because this is it.

This is history.  

This is your thesis.  

You slow your steps and take it in.

There are maybe twenty headstones in total, scattered unevenly across the clearing like bones half buried in the earth. Each one is slightly different — some tall and grim, others squat and mossy, leaning into the ground like they’ve been whispering secrets to it for centuries. A few are better maintained. One even has a stone offering bowl placed at the base, half filled with rainwater and a decaying daisy. Others are so eroded you can’t even make out the names, just the crumbling shapes of letters long swallowed by time.

You walk carefully, mindful of where your feet land. This is rural land. Old land. Sacred in a way no church could ever replicate.

And your mind — oh, your mind is doing somersaults.

You’d done it. You made it. All it took was a dozen archival rabbit holes, and a woman named Agatha who you’re still not entirely sure exists on the same plane of reality as you. All because you read her book…

God, you’re a weak woman.

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at yourself, breath visible in the chilled air. You really flew across the country for this. And now you’re standing in a forgotten graveyard that probably hasn’t seen a visitor in years.

Your eyes land on one stone — off to the side, built into the edge of a low cobblestone wall like it was slotted in after the fact. It juts awkwardly from the ground, more brick than headstone, but you recognize it immediately.

You drop your bag, pull out your notebook and pen, and crouch down in front of it.

You squint through the moss, brush it gently away with your sleeve.

The name reads:  

Bridget Bishop 

Hanged — June 10, 1692

Your breath catches, just a little.

Bridget Bishop. You’d written about her. Extensively. She was the first to be executed during the trials — sixty years old when they dragged her to the gallows.

Accused of "sundry acts of witchcraft.” Classic.

Five girls had claimed she bewitched them — Abigail Williams, Ann Putnam Jr., Mercy Lewis, Mary Walcott, Elizabeth Hubbard — the usual suspects. Said her shape would pinch and choke them. Said she tore a coat by apparition. One girl even claimed her specter threatened to drown her if she didn’t sign the Devil’s book.

You remember the Cotton Mather quotes. You’d scrawled angry margin notes all over Wonders of the Invisible World like it was a horror novel written by an unreliable narrator — which it kind of was.

The accusations hadstacked high: A third nipple which of course vanished mysteriously between examinations, bewitched lace, poisoned cats, dolls hidden in the floorboards, even her own husband’s claims.

And still — still — it was her attitude they hated most. The way she stood her ground. The way she didn’t apologize for existing.  

“She lies too much,” they said. “There’s little occasion to prove the witchcraft. It is evident and notorious.”

You swallow.

A slow sadness moves through you — a weight in your ribs that balances out the excitement. These were not just stories. These were women. And this one — this woman — was the first to hang.

You press your fingers gently to the cold stone.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Then, quietly, you smile.

Because she mattered. And you’re here. And she will not be forgotten.

You stay there for a long time, scribbling observations, sketches, and personal thoughts. You move from stone to stone — cataloging, mapping, transcribing what you can. Most are unreadable, but you note their placement, their condition, any symbol or scratch that might help you identify them later.

Hours pass.

You barely notice.

Until you pause to stretch your back — and realize it’s darker than it should be.

The sky’s gone pale gray-blue, and the light filtering through the trees feels… muted. The wind has quieted. You glance up.

Fog.   

Thin at first, like a breath across the field. But it’s thickening — curling low around the headstones, inching in from the woods like it’s alive.

And suddenly you’re aware of just how quiet it’s gotten. Not silent, but heavy.

The kind of quiet that makes your skin hum.

You zip up your jacket, turn a slow circle, notebook clutched against your chest. You hadn’t meant to stay this long.

The sun’s setting.

You’d gotten lost in history.

And now it feels like history might be ready to stare back.

You take a deep breath and tuck your new notebook back into your bag — now stuffed with a half drunk water bottle and the crumpled wrapper of the granola bar you'd had for a snack.

You pull out your phone just to check the time, expecting maybe… six?

7:48 PM.

"Fuck."

You hadn't meant to stay this long. It was supposed to be a quick visit. A little peek at the cemetery, maybe a few notes, a sketch or two, and then back before sunset.

But this?

Three hours? 

You blink in disbelief at the glowing screen, your thumb still hovering over it when a cold droplet hits the glass.

Then another.

Then many — sudden, insistent — pattering lightly across your shoulders and hair.

You glance up sharply.

Fog is curling in around the graveyard like smoke. Dense and low to the ground, creeping fast through the trees, swallowing headstones whole.

The sun — what’s left of it — is dipping fast below the horizon, leaving behind deep, long shadows that stretch like claws.

You hadn't meant to overstay your welcome.

You would've brought a flashlight. Or your umbrella. Hell, even a coat with a hood.

"Shit. Shit, shit."

You scramble to your feet, brushing dirt from your knees, heart racing now.

"Maybe I can—"

The words die in your throat.

Because you see it.

Perched on a moss covered headstone, half-shrouded in fog — still, and watching — is a crow.

Same dark glint in its eyes.

Same unshakable stare.

Same unbearable stillness.

Your breath catches. Heart thudding loud in your ears. The hairs on the back of your neck rise with the slow, deliberate spread of fear through your chest.

The rain picks up — sharp, insistent — and above you, dark clouds roll in to swallow what little remains of the sky.

You're alone.

In the woods.

At a cemetery.

No flashlight.

No umbrella.

And that crow — that same crow, you're sure of it — caws once. Loud and harsh.

Your whole body flinches.

Fear floods your veins like ice. You're frozen.

Because you remember.

You remember the day at Agatha’s estate. That same sound. That same crow — sweeping over your head like it was marking you.

Watching.

Following.

Stalking.

Finally, your instincts kick in — not telling, but yelling at you to move. To run.

You take a shaky step back, still half frozen in place.

Then another — before you spin around, breaking into a sprint.

You run through the cemetery, not so mindful of your feet now.

You had to go.  

Now.

Branches slap your arms. Your lungs burn. The rain is coming down harder now, and every squelching step threatens to knock you off your feet. You don’t stop — can’t stop — not when every instinct is screaming that something is behind you.

You don’t see it.  

But you feel it.

Every gust of wind becomes a breath on your neck. Every creak of a tree becomes a footstep. The fog coils tighter, swallowing the forest inch by inch — until all you can hear is your own frantic breathing and the slap of your feet against the forest floor.

God, you shouldn’t have stayed so long.  

You shouldn’t have come here alone.  

You should’ve known better.

You dart around a gnarled oak, feet sliding in the mud — and then you trip. You catch yourself against a root, scrambling back upright, heart pounding, soaked from head to toe. Your fingers are trembling as you wipe water from your eyes.

And that’s when you hear it.

A low caw from somewhere deep in the fog.

You spin, chest heaving. The sound echoes through the trees — familiar in a way that makes your skin crawl. You glance up into the branches, searching for it — then all around you, like some wild animal might pounce at any moment.

Just like before.  

The crow from the house.  

Watching you. Following you.

And still, there’s nothing.

No shape. No person. Just fog and trees and the hiss of rain on leaves.

You’re panting now. Whimpering, maybe — though you don’t even realize it. You push yourself forward again, breaking into another run, vision blurring, every ounce of panic spiraling out of control—

Until you hit something.

No — someone. 

Hard.

You yelp, completely losing your footing, arms flailing as you fall straight into the mud with a heavy splat. Cold, thick earth coats your hands, knees, and sides. You’re soaked and filthy, your chest heaving with exertion and terror.

“���Charming.” 

A voice.

Cool. Clipped. Annoyed.

You freeze.

Wiping your eyes with a mud-streaked sleeve, you look up — and there she is.

Agatha Harkness. 

Unmoving. Calm. Spectral. 

She wears deep plum trousers with black boots, a long indigo blue coat swirling at her calves — buttons gleaming faintly like polished onyx. Her white shirt is open at the collar, collarbones peeking beneath delicate chains. A familiar brooch gleams at her chest — that unmistakable knot of silver.

Her hair is down this time — long, loose waves curling perfectly over her shoulders, the ends damp at most .

Somehow, the rain hasn’t touched her. Not really. Not like it has you.

Agatha glances down at her coat, brushes the fabric once with her hand — and the flecks of mud slide off like dust, leaving no trace.

She looks back at you. Dry. Unimpressed.

“I suppose next time,” she says, arching a brow, “the little historian might consider using a map.”

You stare at her, breathless, blinking against the downpour.

Agatha sighs, as though this entire situation is a personal inconvenience she’s begrudgingly choosing to witness. “Though I do admire the dramatic flair,” she adds, cocking her head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were being chased by werewolves.”  

A beat.  

“Or vampires. Or perhaps a particularly menacing squirrel.”

You manage to push yourself upright, slipping once in the mud. You look like hell. She looks like she commands hell.

“I—I thought someone was following me,” you manage, clutching your bag.

Agatha gestures vaguely to your state. “And how’s that working out for you?”

You blink. A breathless, half-sobbing laugh escapes before you can help it.

She quirks a brow but says nothing.

“Why are you even out here?” you ask hoarsely, arms crossed over your shivering frame. “It’s getting dark, and cold, and you could’ve gotten—”

“Lost?” she cuts in, arching one brow. “Like you are now?”

Before you can even begin to come up with a retort, a low caw cuts through the fog.

Your spine stiffens. You flinch.

Agatha’s eyes flick past you toward the forest — where the crow was. Where you ran from. Her voice drops, muttering mostly to herself:

“Dramatic little shit.”

You blink. “Sorry — what?”

“Nothing.”

She takes a step forward, scanning the trees like they’ve personally offended her. 

You shiver. And not from the rain. 

“I wasn’t lost,” you grumble finally, finishing what you were going to say. “I knew where the trail back was.”

Then her eyes drop to your bag. And suddenly, her whole expression shifts — from mild amusement to something far too knowing.

“Right, and that’s why you ran in the opposite direction of it?” Agatha says with her annoyingly knowing tone.

Despite everything — your soaked clothes, your aching feet, your rising suspicion that you were going to die in these woods — you couldn’t stop the tiny curl of warmth in your chest at the sight of her again.

You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.

Not since that day at her house. Not since she’d let you in — then promptly made you feel like you were on trial yourself.

And yet, here you were again.

Drawn to her like a moth to a blue eyed flame.

You freeze.

Mouth slightly open.

The fear is still buzzing through your veins, not yet caught up with the new reality. You’re not being chased. You’re not alone. But maybe — you realize — that’s not a comfort.

Agatha studies you for another long, quiet moment. Then, her gaze softens just slightly. Almost imperceptibly.

“You chose an interesting spot to spend your afternoon,” she says, voice low.

You tense. You’d only gone because Agatha mentioned it when you went to her house a few days ago. Or… also for your thesis.

But she’s the one who brought it up. Told you it was on the outskirts of town.

And then, like an afterthought, like the inevitable drop of a guillotine:

“Bridget always did like company.”

You go still.

Goosebumps race down your arms, and not from the cold.

You hadn’t said Bridget’s name aloud. Not once. Not when you were there. Not in the notebook. Not anywhere Agatha should’ve known.

You clutch your bag closer without realizing it. “How did you—?”

She cuts you off with a look. “You’re soaked.”

Which is true. You’re rain drenched, mud caked, teeth beginning to chatter. You look like you’ve been spit out of the earth and left to die.

Agatha sighs again — the sigh of a woman clearly cursed with patience she didn’t ask for.

“You should be more careful,” she mutters. “This place doesn’t like strangers stomping around after dark.”

You blink up at her, still catching your breath. The forest crackles quietly around you — like it's listening.

“This trail doesn’t lose people,” she adds, with the offhanded sharpness of someone quoting an old rule she might’ve written herself. “People lose themselves.”

You scoff, but it comes out wetter and shakier than you’d like. “Well, thanks for that cryptic horror movie wisdom.”

Agatha’s head tilts. Slowly. A glint of teeth, a narrowing of eyes.

“Careful,” she says, and it’s almost a purr — soft and smooth and terrifying.

You swallow. Loudly.

The blush that hits your ears is immediate and mortifying. You fumble to recover, grumbling as you clutch your bag tighter. 

Agatha gives you a once over before, breezing past you.

You stare at her, dumbfounded, then realize the rain has picked up again — colder now, like punishment. Meanwhile, Agatha looks… untouched. Her clothes aren’t even wet. Not really.

It’s almost insulting.

Agatha eyes the woods with a sneer, like it’s an unruly pet that refuses to heel.

You drag your hand down your face, slick with rain, and try to pretend you’re not shivering.

“So, I’m guessing the inn is about…” You glance down the barely visible path behind you. “An hour and a half that way?”

Agatha doesn’t answer at first. She just watches you with that look — the one that makes you feel like she’s already figured out your next ten thoughts and is unimpressed with all of them.

Finally, she sighs. “My house is closer.”

You blink. “Okay.”

“I’ll show you a shortcut.”

Your eyebrows go up. “Really?”

She turns, already walking. “Come, pet.”

Your soul leaves your body.

You trip over your own feet scrambling to follow, lips pressed together so tightly they might fuse.

“Pet?” you echo, horrified.

She doesn’t turn around. “Would you prefer ‘lost child in need of a leash’?”

“…Pet is fine.”

You follow her into the trees, the fog curling low and wet around your ankles, swallowing everything behind you. You're not sure what direction you're going anymore — or if the direction even matters. The woods feel older here. Sharper. The trees lean closer like they’re eavesdropping.

You’re still trying to orient yourself when Agatha stops without warning.

You nearly run into her again, skidding to a halt.

She turns slowly, her face unreadable — and then, without warning, steps behind you.

You stiffen.

Her hands — warm and uncomfortably grounding — settle on your shoulders.

“Relax,” she murmurs, voice low against your ear. “You’ll only make the forest twitchier.”

You don’t even know what that means. You don’t want to know what that means.

Her thumbs press lightly against your upper back, guiding you a step to the left. “There. Path’s clearer this way.”

You nod, absolutely not breathing. Not even a little.

Your heart is Racing and your mind reeling. You’re pretty sure you blacked out for a second.

Then her hands fall away, and she brushes past you again, the tails of her coat fluttering behind her like a shadow that forgot it needed to be tethered.

You follow. Because you don’t trust the woods.

And — more unsettlingly — you don’t trust the feeling crawling down your spine when you aren’t near her.

Not quite safety.

But something close enough to it.

---

Once you make it back to Agatha’s — through some weird ass winding path in the woods that made you internally ask,  how the fuck does she know her way around out here?  

You’re freezing. Drenched. Exhausted. And still reeling from the whole graveyard experience… You were having a blast at first sure… then- well you know what happened.

Not to mention you have no idea why you’re being brought to Agatha Harkness’s house.

Or, for that matter, why she was even at the cemetery in the first place.

But your brain’s too scrambled to work that out right now. You’re soaked to the bone. Tired, scared, confused — all in that ordr — and at this point, honestly just trying not to pass out face first into a patch of moss.

You follow her up the creaking steps of her hidden away woodland estate. You’re not even sure if this house exists on a map. It probably doesn’t. It doesn’t feel like it should.

You stop beside her — slightly behind — as she pulls a key from the pocket of her plum colored trousers. The same ones that somehow managed not to get muddy despite the hell walk through the woods.

Your eyes wander.

To her profile, lit soft and golden by the porch light overhead. It makes her features look… different. Softer. Sharper. All at once.

Your gaze travels from her brow bone to the slope of her nose — just the slightest bump in the bridge then to the tip that juts out deliciously—  and down to her lips, which are slightly parted.

And for a second—just a second—you wonder what it’d be like to—

“You have a staring problem, you know that?” Agatha says, completely deadpan.

She doesn’t even look at you.

Just unlocks the purple door, pushing it open like it’s muscle memory, and steps inside.

You freeze.

Your face burns. 

Then, without a word, you follow her in. Of course you do. Because apparently that’s what you do now.

Just how much could you embarrass yourself in one night?

Answer? to be determined.

You’ve noticed a pattern with her. From the first time you met to now — you just… follow.

Wherever she goes. Like gravity’s got a new favorite plaything.

And it’s not like you want to resist.

Not really.

Once inside, you immediately take your wet and mud caked Converse. To be polite, of course. Even though your clothes are clinging to you like a second skin and you’re currently dripping all over her floor.

Gods.

You are an idiot. 

You sigh and shut the door behind you. And just like the first time, that strange warmth hits you right away — radiating from the walls, from the scent of lavender and cedarwood curling in the air.

You exhale.

For the first time since stepping into those cursed woods, your body actually starts to relax.

You glance over at Agatha, who flicks on a few lights with the causal grace of someone who’s never once had to fumble with a switch. Not to mention that you were Still trying to catch up with everything that just happened.

While you were stood there — dripping in the entryway — Agatha cast you a slightly amused glance. Not annoyed. Not biting. Just… amused. Maybe even a little curious .

Her eyes wandered down the length of your soaked form

You swore you saw the ghost of a smirk.

With a soft sigh and a small tsk , she stepped closer.

You froze.

Her perfume hit you like a truck — deep and dark and expensive-smelling, liYou fought the unholy urge to just… breathe it in. 

She reached up and plucked a stray leaf out of your hair with the kind of casual care that made your brain short circuit.

“Honestly,” she said, her mouth twitching like she might actually smile, “is this your idea of playing the damsel? Because you’re almost pulling it off.”

You blinked up at her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Agatha huffed out a low laugh — just a breath through her nose, but it still counted. “Mm. Suits you, actually.”

Then she turned and walked off like she hadn’t just set your heart on fire with a stray compliment.

You stared after her, stunned. Still very wet. Maybe in more ways than one.

“Come on little historian, let's get you a towel. I wouldn't want you to ruin my floors.”

[blackparadinq]

So uh…

I finally passed the elite four

[goodnightsweetdreamsss]

getting artblocked but. remembering that i can draw a porpoise or maybe another thing that i can’t think of right now

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely! Can you do poly!wolfstar x reader who is normally a brilliant student but since the start of the year she’s just been… not? And I mean failing most of her classes, procrastinating more than usual, etc. Like the material just doesn’t click in her head anymore and she feels… I don’t wanna say embarrassed, but yeah maybe a bit embarrassed

Thank you for requesting angel! I hope you know that what Sirius and Remus say in this fic is true, and though grades are never a real indicator of your intelligence you can always improve them <3

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Oh,” Remus says from the kitchen, over the sound of chopping. “Dovey, did you get your mark back on that essay yet?”

A newly familiar brand of self-loathing spreads through your gut. “Mhm,” you hum, half hoping he won’t hear. 

“How was it?” 

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, staring unseeingly at the assignment you’re meant to be doing on your laptop. You know Remus doesn’t mean to pester you. He’s only curious because you’d spent a rushed evening writing the essay at the last minute and he likely remembers your panic; he has no reason to think you’ve done anything but well, as he’s used to with you. Still, you wish he had a worse memory and perhaps cared less. 

“Fine,” you say. 

It’s not a lie, though the half-truth tastes bitter on your tongue. It was, by definition, fine. You’d received a passing mark, though just barely. You shouldn’t have been surprised; the essay had been a last-minute scramble and had probably read like one, your ideas half formed and structured only coherently enough that you thought you might coast by with a B. Realistically, you’d known this professor was too strict to let you do that. 

“That’s good,” Remus hums, appeased. You’re lucky he’s not nearby enough to read the guilt on your face. 

The sharp tang of blood spreads through your mouth as you navigate to a new tab. You haven’t thought much about what effect a C would have on your mark in the class. You’ve avoided thinking about it much at all. Still, the essay was a weighty assignment, so maybe there’s a chance that C could have buoyed you above failing…

You don’t hear Sirius coming up behind the couch. He’s been bouncing between you and Remus all evening, no task of his own but happy to distract you both from yours. You register his arms coming around your front right as he registers the marks on your screen.

You slam your laptop shut. 

Sirius says your name, soft with surprise. 

“You snuck up on me.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” he says. It’s not an apology, but almost. “How long have—why haven’t you said anything?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You feel tears pressing at your throat and you shove them down. “It’s embarrassing.” 

Sirius makes a soft sound, chin landing gently in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. His thumb strokes over your abdomen. “Oh, my girl…” 

“Everything alright?” Remus’ chopping has stopped. Although he can’t see you, he can still detect a somber tone. 

Sirius is quiet. He’s not going to give you away, you know. But to avoid having secrets between the three of you, you have to come clean to Remus yourself. 

“Yeah,” you say with forced lightness. Your stomach is in knots. “Everything’s fine, I’m just not doing very well in school.” 

“Oh.” Remus appears from inside the kitchen. He comes toward you with brows drawn together, not in disappointment but in concern. “Anything I can help with?” 

Your throat closes up at how he offers it so easily. You give him a watery smile. “I don’t think so.” 

Sirius’ arms stiffen at the squeak of your voice. “Hey,” he says, rubbing your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just school.” 

You try to stay quiet as a tiny sob bullies its way out of you. It used to be just school for you. Simple, routine, nothing you had to work terribly hard at. It mattered, but not much, because you never had to worry about it. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you admit as Remus comes to sit beside you, sympathy digging into the space between his brows. “I just can’t—it’s like I can’t do anything this year. I’m failing.” 

“Shh, sweetheart, it’s alright.” Sirius lets you go so Remus can draw you into a hug. You curl against him, humiliated and yet desperate for comfort. “You’re not failing.” 

“I literally am.” 

“Maybe,” he says calmly, “but Sirius is right. It’s only school. You’re only failing some classes, not failing in general. Don’t start telling yourself you’re not brilliant.” 

You’re quiet, sniffling. Remus’ silence is knowing. He rubs up and down between your shoulder blades in slow, short strokes. He has a way of always saying what you’re really upset about.

“You’re still brilliant,” he says. You hide your face in his jumper, steeping in your shame. 

“You can come back from failing a few classes,” Sirius tells you. “I know you’re not used to it, but you’re only having an off term, sweetness. It’ll be okay. You’ll figure it out.” 

“I don’t—” You sniff hard, pulling away from Remus to wipe under your eyes. “I don’t think I have time to figure it out.” 

“You may not be able to pass this term,” Remus agrees. Your face tightens at the confirmation, but he goes on gently, “That doesn’t mean you’ve failed. You can sort it out for the next one. We’ll help you. It’ll only be one bad term, you can move on from it.” 

“People do it all the time.” Sirius leans over the back of the couch, kissing your shoulder. “It doesn’t mean anything about you. Just that you had a rough go.” 

You tilt your head so it touches his lightly, the smallest token of affection. Sirius rewards you by cupping your chin in his hand, tilting your head back so he can smile down at you. He thumbs a couple of tears off your cheeks. 

“You’re both being very reasonable,” you say quietly. “If you loved me you’d tar and feather me.” 

“You know, we so would,” Sirius bends to kiss your nose, “because we do love you, but unfortunately the tar still hasn’t been replenished from last month’s public humiliation.” 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, sweetheart,” Remus chides, rubbing your arm. “It’s only been one term.” 

“Mm, also true,” says Sirius. “Usually we don’t tar and feather anyone until at least three.” 

At last his teasing gets a smile out of you, albeit a small, begrudging one. Sirius grins widely in response. 

He stamps his lips on your forehead, voice dropping into a more sincere register. “You’ve nothing to be embarrassed of, lovely girl. We’ll get past it, yeah?”

You find that you believe him. 

[arayapendragon]

pick a pile: shifting advice 🪬

intuitively pick a pile - whichever resonates most or whichever you feel drawn to. don't think on it, just pick the first one that comes to mind. the chosen pile will give you shifting advice that you may need to hear right now. good luck! :) pile 1

kshama - patience, forgiveness 

lately you may have been feeling overwhelmed and burdened. maybe you’re carrying a heavy baggage, like doubts, anxieties, even fear. or perhaps, you feel like you have too many responsibilities and work in your current reality, which may be stressing you out and making shifting hard for you at the moment. maybe you’re even finding shifting a challenge at the moment. worry not, for shifting will always be there for you, and no matter what, you will always be guided back to it. shifting is meant for you, it found you for a reason. there is a reason you haven’t give up on it yet. trust, friend. :) the universe will continue to bring you back to shifting, so don’t worry. 

now is the right time for you to break free from limitations and negativity. try to recognise your limiting beliefs and repeating patterns via journalling and shadow work. you will be able to overcome self-doubt, fear of failure and attachment to the 3d. free yourself from the patterns that have been holding you back. leave what doesn’t work for you, leave what you no longer resonate with. heal yourself. you may have gone through a period of emotional pain and/or heartbreak. it is now time for you to ease that pain. work on being more emotional stable. whether negative events took place in your current reality that have hurt you, or not shifting yet is causing you pain. just leave it all behind, let go of the past. let go of the pain. do what’s best for you and take time for yourself. do some self-care. do anything that makes you feel better. focus on and prioritise your happiness and wellbeing. try journaling and shadow work like i said, it will help you immensely. once you heal the emotional pain, things will get a lot easier for you. the universe has your back, don’t worry. all will go well for you. push through!  don't put shifting on a pedestal and definitely don't be desperate to shift. your time will come. it will happen, there is no need to be obsessed with the idea of shifting. you will do it, but you must rethink your priorities.

pile 2 shakti - power, energy

shifting is aligned with your highest good and you’re highly likely to be successful! you’ve got this! you’re very much on the right path and the universe is there to support you in every step. you must realize that you have the inner strength and power to shift. you are in control of your reality and have the power to manifest whatever it is you desire. take control. stop being on autopilot; grab the steering wheel and lead yourself to wherever it is you desire. you will excel immensely once you realise your power and take control. 

keep reminding yourself that you’re powerful and know that you have everything you need, you’re on the right path and all will go well for you. think highly of yourself and your abilities, and quit procrastinating. no time is better than the present. pile 3 nirnaya - determination

you may have been feeling more peaceful, happy, and confident lately. even if you aren’t, try to do things that will bring you peace and happiness. perhaps you’re enjoying time in your current reality? keep staying in this state of peace and happiness, it’ll help you connect to your desired reality with ease. let go of all limiting beliefs, if you feel you still have any. 

you already possess all the skills and qualities you need to shift. as a matter of fact, everyone does, regardless of which pile they chose. now would be a great time for you to identify your limiting beliefs and emotions via meditation and journalling. you have the strength to overcome them. be brave, let go of your fear of the unknown. embrace the beauty of the multiverse and of shifting. know that is it your destiny to shift. it is meant for you. don’t let anything demotivate you, just persevere and keep going. have faith in yourself. focus on where you are (your desired reality), not the process. keep a shifting journal to track each time you shift, make a list of what works and doesn't work for you.

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for Shy

Out of jealousy (part 3): disaster date

Orc (Hodei) x fem!reader || sfw, tooth-rooting fluff, kind of suggestive

“Let’s have a date,” he says in a random Wednesday.

You are chilling in your living room, he was scrolling through his phone as you worked on some crafts you’d been procrastinating on for a while. Having a thousand hobbies is great in theory, but when you want to do everything… you end up doing nothing. But you’ve been pretty consistent with your embroidery lately, currently working on a piece for Hodei’s mom’s birthday.

“What?” You ask absently. You had been too focused to fully process what he just said.

“We’ve done a lot of things together,” the way his voice drops at the end makes you blush remembering some of those things… but he continues. “But I haven’t taken you to a proper date, yet.” You stop what you are doing and look at him, confused.

“What do you mean? You cooked me dinner last night.” Even if we didn’t get to eat it till much later, you add in your brain with a little smile.

He’s right that you spent most of your time indoors, most precisely inside your room or his room, but you like his company in general, so it’s just nice to have him share space with you when you are doing mundane stuff.

He sighs, as if he’s reading your mind. “But I mean a real date. One where I take you out and you put on a nice dress so I can drool over you as we have dinner.” His smirk is framed by his shiny tusks and your brain short-circuits for a second, he’s so fucking beautiful.

You blink twice before responding, in the only way you can: teasingly. “You drool over me when I’m wearing pajamas, dude,” you joke with a chuckle.

He doesn’t laugh, just looks down with a light redness in his cheeks. You know you are right, you’ve seen him looking at you with hunger every time you wear one of his shirts to walk around the house. You’ve felt his reaction to that, too… Very deep inside of you.

He blushes harder and then stutters his response: “I know… I do. It’s just… I just…” You look at him, studying his posture and the way he’s looking down like something is worrying him for real.

“What’s the matter?” You ask him, forgetting about your teasing.

“You went out with him, but you’ve never been out with me.” He finally lets out, his voice soft and pained. Fuck.

“What do you mean?”

He takes a few deep breaths and finally looks up, locking eyes with you. “I- You-,” he stutters. Then he tries again after another long breath: “That first night you went out on a dinner with him and then I fucked it up and it hadn’t occurred to me that you might like those kind of fancy dinners where I take you to a restaurant and we eat overpriced food and then share a piece of cake for dessert.”

“You don’t share dessert,” you say without thinking, your brain not fast enough to process the rest of his words.

“I don’t. But… I’ll do it with you,” he says, a tiny smile hiding in the corner of his lips.

That does surprise you. You’ve seen him do a lot of things through all the years you’ve known each other, but never, never, has he shared his food with anybody. Especially his dessert. He has the sweetest tooth in the universe.

“You’d share your dessert with me?!” You almost scream, your voice high pitched as your heart skips a beat.

“Why do you look so surprised? Of course I would!” He looks annoyed at your reaction, and you almost burst out in giggles because of the face he’s making, as if he’s smelling the worst cauliflower in the world.

“Dude… You… You love me,” you let out in a rush, completely blown away by the realization.

He frowns at you, stunned by your words. “What? Of course I do, I told you that. Multiple times.” He definitely had, telling you how much he loves you every chance he got. And you love him back, but the reality of it didn’t click until that exact moment.

“Yeah, yeah… You have but it just hit me. You really love me.” You look at him still blown away. “I- I’ll go on a date with you,” you finally say. The smile he gives you in return is so big and so precious you know you’d do anything to see it every day for the rest of your life. “I love you, too,” you add in a soothing tone.

Two days later you are getting dressed in an uncomfortable dress that makes your ass look incredible but also squeezes your boobs in a way that makes breathing harder, when he smirks at you. You’ll endure dinner for him, you will…

You are trying to give yourself a pep talk as you tie your sandals around your ankles and he gets out of the bathroom with black dress pants and a white shirt that makes his forearms look indecent when he rolls his sleeves up. You want nothing more than to call off dinner and eat him instead, but he’s so excited… fuck.

He drives you to a nice restaurant, kind of fancy but not fancy enough to be horrible to stand around. Still… The dinner is a disaster.

The first course is cold, and you have to ask the server to reheat it. The food is mediocre, and the drinks are very mild. There’s a kid crying somewhere in the restaurant, and the table next to you has the most obnoxious ogre in existence, laughing too loud, cutting his partner’s speech halfway to add stupid remarks… Overall, it’s just a bad evening.

And it’s getting to him. And to you.

You can barely talk over the noise of other conversations (and the awful ogre). Your feet hurt and your boobs are starting to feel itchy because they’ve been so confined in the dress. You still feel a bit better when he looks down at them and licks his lips, but you still aren’t having a good time.

And neither is he.

He gets up to get to the bathroom and you follow, his eyes were sad half the time you were in the restaurant, and every time you look at him your heart beats erratically. He looks amazing, but his mood is souring as time passes, and it’s making your own mood go downhill.

“Hodei, hey!” You call after him. He stops mid hallway. There’s nobody around and you catch up with him, but he takes a step back when you try to hug his middle. You try to act as if it doesn’t hurt you deeply, but you understand it.

“I’m so sorry this night was even worse than the last date you went to,” he lets out half choked. You feel your heart get all gooey for your big soft orc.

“Come here,” you tell him, grabbing his hand and pulling his body to yours. You are looking up at his warm eyes when you say very slowly: “I don’t care about fancy dates or restaurants, I only care about you. I love doing stuff with you, doesn’t matter what… We can go to the fanciest restaurant, or we can stay at home for hours sharing silence, I don’t care as long as you are there with me, understood?” He nods softly, but you aren’t convinced he truly understands. “I love you, you’re my best friend, my mate.” The last word makes him growl, a big smile spreading on his face as he grabs your waist and lifts you up until he can kiss you, deep and sensual.

“Say that again,” he says against your ear. Your legs are hanging and his hands are squeezing your butt in a very non-public acceptable way.

So instead of obeying, you ask him: “Take me home?” His tusks rubbing your cheeks in the most delicious way as he leans down to give you another short kiss.

You smile at him, leaning to bite his lower lip softly, and his growl makes you whimper. You see the exact second his mind changes and he stops caring about anything else. “I’ll ask for the check,” he says putting you down.

“What about dessert?” You asks with a chuckle.

“We taking it with us!” He says over his shoulder, marching to the waitress with his card already in his hand.

Needless to say, you do share a piece of chocolate cake… in your room… licking it off his abs and then tongue-feeding parts of it to him as he pants beneath you.

[whiskis]

Patreon Commission for Shy

Out of jealousy (part 3): disaster date

Orc (Hodei) x fem!reader || sfw, tooth-rooting fluff, kind of suggestive

“Let’s have a date,” he says in a random Wednesday.

You are chilling in your living room, he was scrolling through his phone as you worked on some crafts you’d been procrastinating on for a while. Having a thousand hobbies is great in theory, but when you want to do everything… you end up doing nothing. But you’ve been pretty consistent with your embroidery lately, currently working on a piece for Hodei’s mom’s birthday.

“What?” You ask absently. You had been too focused to fully process what he just said.

“We’ve done a lot of things together,” the way his voice drops at the end makes you blush remembering some of those things… but he continues. “But I haven’t taken you to a proper date, yet.” You stop what you are doing and look at him, confused.

“What do you mean? You cooked me dinner last night.” Even if we didn’t get to eat it till much later, you add in your brain with a little smile.

He’s right that you spent most of your time indoors, most precisely inside your room or his room, but you like his company in general, so it’s just nice to have him share space with you when you are doing mundane stuff.

He sighs, as if he’s reading your mind. “But I mean a real date. One where I take you out and you put on a nice dress so I can drool over you as we have dinner.” His smirk is framed by his shiny tusks and your brain short-circuits for a second, he’s so fucking beautiful.

You blink twice before responding, in the only way you can: teasingly. “You drool over me when I’m wearing pajamas, dude,” you joke with a chuckle.

He doesn’t laugh, just looks down with a light redness in his cheeks. You know you are right, you’ve seen him looking at you with hunger every time you wear one of his shirts to walk around the house. You’ve felt his reaction to that, too… Very deep inside of you.

He blushes harder and then stutters his response: “I know… I do. It’s just… I just…” You look at him, studying his posture and the way he’s looking down like something is worrying him for real.

“What’s the matter?” You ask him, forgetting about your teasing.

“You went out with him, but you’ve never been out with me.” He finally lets out, his voice soft and pained. Fuck.

“What do you mean?”

He takes a few deep breaths and finally looks up, locking eyes with you. “I- You-,” he stutters. Then he tries again after another long breath: “That first night you went out on a dinner with him and then I fucked it up and it hadn’t occurred to me that you might like those kind of fancy dinners where I take you to a restaurant and we eat overpriced food and then share a piece of cake for dessert.”

“You don’t share dessert,” you say without thinking, your brain not fast enough to process the rest of his words.

“I don’t. But… I’ll do it with you,” he says, a tiny smile hiding in the corner of his lips.

That does surprise you. You’ve seen him do a lot of things through all the years you’ve known each other, but never, never, has he shared his food with anybody. Especially his dessert. He has the sweetest tooth in the universe.

“You’d share your dessert with me?!” You almost scream, your voice high pitched as your heart skips a beat.

“Why do you look so surprised? Of course I would!” He looks annoyed at your reaction, and you almost burst out in giggles because of the face he’s making, as if he’s smelling the worst cauliflower in the world.

“Dude… You… You love me,” you let out in a rush, completely blown away by the realization.

He frowns at you, stunned by your words. “What? Of course I do, I told you that. Multiple times.” He definitely had, telling you how much he loves you every chance he got. And you love him back, but the reality of it didn’t click until that exact moment.

“Yeah, yeah… You have but it just hit me. You really love me.” You look at him still blown away. “I- I’ll go on a date with you,” you finally say. The smile he gives you in return is so big and so precious you know you’d do anything to see it every day for the rest of your life. “I love you, too,” you add in a soothing tone.

Two days later you are getting dressed in an uncomfortable dress that makes your ass look incredible but also squeezes your boobs in a way that makes breathing harder, when he smirks at you. You’ll endure dinner for him, you will…

You are trying to give yourself a pep talk as you tie your sandals around your ankles and he gets out of the bathroom with black dress pants and a white shirt that makes his forearms look indecent when he rolls his sleeves up. You want nothing more than to call off dinner and eat him instead, but he’s so excited… fuck.

He drives you to a nice restaurant, kind of fancy but not fancy enough to be horrible to stand around. Still… The dinner is a disaster.

The first course is cold, and you have to ask the server to reheat it. The food is mediocre, and the drinks are very mild. There’s a kid crying somewhere in the restaurant, and the table next to you has the most obnoxious ogre in existence, laughing too loud, cutting his partner’s speech halfway to add stupid remarks… Overall, it’s just a bad evening.

And it’s getting to him. And to you.

You can barely talk over the noise of other conversations (and the awful ogre). Your feet hurt and your boobs are starting to feel itchy because they’ve been so confined in the dress. You still feel a bit better when he looks down at them and licks his lips, but you still aren’t having a good time.

And neither is he.

He gets up to get to the bathroom and you follow, his eyes were sad half the time you were in the restaurant, and every time you look at him your heart beats erratically. He looks amazing, but his mood is souring as time passes, and it’s making your own mood go downhill.

“Hodei, hey!” You call after him. He stops mid hallway. There’s nobody around and you catch up with him, but he takes a step back when you try to hug his middle. You try to act as if it doesn’t hurt you deeply, but you understand it.

“I’m so sorry this night was even worse than the last date you went to,” he lets out half choked. You feel your heart get all gooey for your big soft orc.

“Come here,” you tell him, grabbing his hand and pulling his body to yours. You are looking up at his warm eyes when you say very slowly: “I don’t care about fancy dates or restaurants, I only care about you. I love doing stuff with you, doesn’t matter what… We can go to the fanciest restaurant, or we can stay at home for hours sharing silence, I don’t care as long as you are there with me, understood?” He nods softly, but you aren’t convinced he truly understands. “I love you, you’re my best friend, my mate.” The last word makes him growl, a big smile spreading on his face as he grabs your waist and lifts you up until he can kiss you, deep and sensual.

“Say that again,” he says against your ear. Your legs are hanging and his hands are squeezing your butt in a very non-public acceptable way.

So instead of obeying, you ask him: “Take me home?” His tusks rubbing your cheeks in the most delicious way as he leans down to give you another short kiss.

You smile at him, leaning to bite his lower lip softly, and his growl makes you whimper. You see the exact second his mind changes and he stops caring about anything else. “I’ll ask for the check,” he says putting you down.

“What about dessert?” You asks with a chuckle.

“We taking it with us!” He says over his shoulder, marching to the waitress with his card already in his hand.

Needless to say, you do share a piece of chocolate cake… in your room… licking it off his abs and then tongue-feeding parts of it to him as he pants beneath you.

[singsangseung]

Coming or Going?

Alright guys…..I’ve been having some thoughts….and have been procrastinating writing this. BUT I am doing it

Summary: Chan walks in on you and Minho getting freaky and well.. Minho asks him “coming or going?”

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, degradation kink, hair pulling, threesome, unprotected sex( please don’t), reader is referred to as a whore, slut, cumslut, ass slapping, creampie, oral sex(m receiving), fem!reader, spitting, lots of cum , use of vibrator, clit play

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Chan had seen you and Minho come back to the dorms, but now you were nowhere in sight. “Have any of you guys seen y/n and Minho?” Chan called out, seeing Han and Felix sitting on the couch, playing video games. They both shrugged and shook their heads, “Nope, haven’t seen them hyung.” They chorused in unison. He wanted to ask Minho what he thought  of some new choreography, but now he couldn’t.

With a tilt of his head and sigh, he made his way upstairs to your dorm. Maybe, they’re taking a nap or something. Chan thought to himself, as he walked down the hallway , approaching your bedroom door. But, then he heard it. You definitely aren’t napping.

Fuck, fuckfuck– Min, please, faster.

Yeah? Want it faster, my little whore? Can’t get enough of my cock, huh?” 

He was in front of your closed door and he could hear it all. Every smack laid against your ass, every groan, whine, shriek, wail and cry. He felt his own dick thickening in his boxers, his hard erection straining against his basketball shorts. Before Chan could even register, his hand was on the door knob pushing it open– revealing a sight that would forever be burned in his mind– and his dick hard in his shorts.

You were on the bed, on your front, hips held and angled up by Minho’s hands with your cheek pressed against the bedding and your hands gripping the sheets above where your arms were extended. Minho was on his knees behind you, balls deep in your wet , hot cunt. Chan idn’t stop him from fucking into you though, and you were too fucked out to notice. “Fuck minnnnnn. So fucking good,” You cried, feeling his cockhead kissing your cervix, with every  thrust. “Yeah, my whore likes it when I pound her little cunt like this? I give it to you so good , don’t I?” Minho grunted, landing his palm on your ass again. “Ye-yeah fuck! So good, so fucking big min!” You wailed, your knuckled white from how hard you were gripping the comforter. 

Chan couldn’t even remember or process the small groan that left his mouth. But Minho did and instead of stopping, he only fucked into your harder. “Fuck! Fuck please please please! Min, I’m gonna cum!” You whined, feeling your legs shake and the knot in your stomach tighten. “I-I’m so sorry! I’ll go!” Chan managed to squeak out, but was still frozen in his spot. Shallowly thrusting into  you, Minho Smirked. “Doesn’t seem like you’re going, hyung.” He scoffed, halting his hips. “Wh-why’d you stop?!” You whined, trying to fuck yourself back onto his cock, the knot of your orgasm loosening. Smacking your ass, Minho tangled a hand in your hair and pulled  your head up. “Don;t be fucking rude, slut. Say hi,” He barked, as you whined, your eyes locking with Chan’s. Slowly, Minho rocked his hips back into yours, hand still entangled in your hair. “Hnnng…fuck oh my god….Hi Chan.” “Hi…..” He coughed out, feeling his dick twitch in his boxers. Minho groaned and snapped his hips into yours, balls colliding with your  clit and your eyes rolled back. “Such a tight pussy, fuck me,” Minho whispered before looking up at his hyung. 

“Well….Chan hyung, coming or going?”

Fuck..

Before he could even process it , Chan was stripping himself to his boxers and climbing onto your bed.  By this point, Minho had let go of your hair and was grabbing your hips as he plowed into you. “My my my, what a dirty whore? Is Minho making you feel good?” Chan teased, one hand pulling you up by your hair and the other prying your mouth open to spit in it. “Such a good little cockslut, yeah? Love when he fucks you like that,” He laughed, watching as your face twisted up in please and you nodded. “Mhm, feels so good, so fucking big, Channie. He stretched me so good.’ You whined, feeling one of Chan’s hands slide down the expanse of your back , to land a firm smack on your ass. 

“Hope you can take more, baby doll.”

Then, Chan was sliding his boxers down. His cock slapping against his abdomen. His cock was beautiful- long, girthy, a vein running up the shaft to his red leaking tip and all topped off with neatly trimmed hair at the base. 

Fuck…..he was huge

Chuckling, Chan noticed how your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. “You’re so big Channie,” You whispered, whimpering as Minho continued rutting into you. “Yeah? You like my cock, baby?” Chan smiled, and took his base in his hands, running the head across your lips. “Gonna be a good whore and suck him off, baby?” Minho smirked, seeing Chan pressing his cockhead into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. “Fuuuuck. Just like that, baby.” Chan hissed, sucking a breath in watching as you bobbed your head up and down his dick. “You can do fucking better than that, whore.” Minho sneered, grabbing your hair and forcing your head up and down Chan’s cock, as he plowed into you. “Shittttt, she’s so good at this, Minho.” Chan panted, his eyes clenched shut and head thrown back. “ I know, wait til you get in her cunt, though.” He chuckled, as you gagged on Chan’s dick, spit falling from your mouth. 

It was filthy. But, they weren’t done yet.

Pulling out of your cunt, Minho smacked your ass and pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “How about you let him fuck that sweet pussy, huh, my little whore. Want his big dick in your pathetic cunt?” He whispered into your ear as you nodded, eyes watering. “Fuck, how do you want her , hyung?” Minho asked, as he pushed two of his fingers into your hole. 

You were beyond wet, you were drenched

“Fuck, on her back, legs up, by her chest. Wanna see her pretty pussy.”

That was all it took, before Minho manhandled you, laying you on your back and holding your legs up. Quickly rubbing the pads of his index and middle finger over your clit, Minho smiled. “Such a pretty little hole. Takes cum so well, so fucking wet too,” He cooed, before turning your head and pressing his cockhead into your mouth. “Hnnnggggggg, fuck,” you moaned around Minho’s cock as he continued his ministations on your clit and Chan climbed between your legs. “Fuck, look how wet you are, begging to be filled with cum huh, our little cumslut. “ He seethed, sucking in a breath and aligning his cockhead with your entrance.   Sliding his head over you clit, he sucked his bottom lip between his lip. 

Then, he was pushing in, his girth stretching you so deliciously. “Fuck ,such a tight pussy, sucks cock in so good. Could stay in here forever,” He whispered, pulling back slightly before pushing in again. Your toes curled, eyes rolled back and you slipped Minho’s cock out of your mouth so you could moan .”Fuck! SO big! Channie Channie, fuck!” You cried, as Minho climbed behind you, one hand holding your leg up and the other rubbing your clit still. He leaned down in your ear to whisper, “Yeah? Is hyung fucking your whore pussy so good? You gonna cum around his cock? Gonna cream him, like the slut you are?”

You were going to do More than just cum though

Throwing your head back against Minho’s chest, you whined, grabbing his wrist. “Yes! Yes, Min! I’m gonna cum! Please let me cum. Please Minnie and Chan, please make me cum.” You cried, as Chan snapped his hips harder into you, screwing his eyes shut. Looking down to where his cock slid in and out of your cunt, Chan saw a white creamy ring around the base of his cock. “Fucking hell, such a slutty pussy. Making a mess all over me.” He sneered, spitting down onto your clit. Your legs were shaking, the muscles aching and you wanted to cum, BAD.

Minho, cupped his hand under your jaw and pulled your head up to look at him . “ My poor little whore, is so needy. Wants to be filled with cum, look at you, shaking like a leaf.” It was true, you were shaking. Nodding your head, you saw Minho grab your pink vibrator out of your nightstand and flick it on. “Want to cum so badly, huh, whore.” He glowered, teasingly running the vibrator over your mound before pressing it to your clit,meanly. “C’mon, soak his fucking cock, so I can give you my cum. I know you want it, want me to fucking fill that cunt with my cum.” All you could do was whine, eyes squeezed shut as you cried. “Yes! Yes, fuck please! I wanna cum, need to cum! PLease, fuck! Pleasepleaseplease let me.” You cried, your legs trying to snap shut from the sheer amount of pleasure. But, Chan and Minho were having none of it. Holding your legs open, Chan landed a smack against your tits. “Keep those fucking legs open, slut. Take what we fucking give you, like the good little whore you are.” He commanded, hips plowing into you at an animalistic rate. They both chuckled, voices laced with a delicious venom, as they took in your fucked out state. 

“Poor baby is so fucked out, wants to cum so bad. Clenching around my fucking cock so good.”

“C’mon, soak his cock, baby. Then, he can fill that whore cunt with his cum and I’ll give you mine.”

That was all it took, your vision went white and you squirted hard. “Hnnnnng! Fuuuuuck me! Oh my god ohmygod ! Yes yes yes!” You cried, your release thoroughly soaking Chan’s dick and lower abdomen. “Yeeeea, just like that. Make a mess on me. Suck a good whore– fuck me! Fuuuuuck, I’m cumming. Take my fucking cum in your cunt.”Chan had growled, pistoning his hips into you primally, before he stopped. Rope after rope after rope of his warm cum painting your walls. “Fuuuuck, so good, baby.” he smiled, completely fucked out and spent before he collapsed onto the bed. 

But… Minho didn’t cum yet.

Sliding out from where he sat under you, Minho smiled and leaned down pressing a kiss to your lips, throwing the vibrator to the side. “Hi, kitten.” He smiled, as your glossy eyes stared back at him, your hands coming to curl around his neck. “Hi, baby.” You preened, pulling him into another kiss. “You did so good, baby. Took it so well. Think you have one more for me,hm?” He smiled, bunny teeth showing, as he lined his cockhead up with your hole. Nodding your head, you bit your lip. “Yeah, ‘course I do.Want your cum so bad, min.” You whined, feeling his tip breaching your hole, as he bottomed out in one motion. “Hnnnnng, min! Fuck!” You whined against his lips as he swiftly pulled his hips back, fucking into you with harsh deep thrusts. “yeah?Feel good, my  pretty slut?” He cooed, sucking bruises into your neck. 

Too overwhelmed by Minho’s cock bullying into you, you didn’t notice Chan slide over. That was, until you felt plush lips on the underside of your jaw and two of his fingers reach to pinch your nipples. “Does he feel good. You going to soak MInho’s cock too, like a good slut?” He whispered into your ear, hotly licking the shell. Nodding your head, you felt your orgasm bubbling up, again. “H-huuuuh!yes! SO close! Please let me cum!” You cried, arch backing off the bed. Minho and Chan locked eyes, nodding before Chan rubbed your clit faster and Minho thrusted harder.  

“Cum” they said in unison.

And man……you squirted, Chan’s hand was soaked, Minho’s cock and abdomen were soaked.

“Fuck, look at you, such a good girl. Soaking us like that. You want Minho’s cum, baby?” Chan growled in your ear as you whined and panted, completely spent. “Gonna give you my cum baby, okay?” Minho called, running a hand over your cheek, Then bam his orgasm hit him like a truck. Minho’s hips faltered, before completely stopping, as he spilled his load into you. 

Again, rope after rope after rope of warm white cum filled your cunt, painting your walls white, until it started to drip out of you. “Fuuuuuck, so good, jagiya. Take me so good.” Minho panted, as he collapsed on top of you, also completely spent. “You always take my cum so good,fuck.” He whispered into your neck, sweat dripping from his bangs as he peppered your neck with kisses. 

Recollecting his breath, Chan redressed himself and climbed out of your bed. Before closing the door, he turned to where you and Minho were still laying, his cock still in you. 

“So……..same time next week?”

•°. *࿐Please don’t steal,repost,modify,translate,copy,paraphrase or in any way claim my works, you will be blocked•°. *࿐AStraySimp-AfterDark 2023 •°. *࿐

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Part 5: One Perfect Day

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7

Let me photograph you in this light (in case it is the last time that we might be exactly like we were)

(In which a procrastinating writer procrastinates giving her ship happiness)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Some Fluff

Words: 7.5K

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Good evening my lovelies <3. As many of you have reminded me it is indeed Friday and so here we are, nobody needs to yell at me! I know I'm years too late with this but I hope y'all like it anyways, even though this is very much mainly hurt with very little comfort. But for things to get better, they have to get worse and remember, it's all for the plot! There's plenty of creative liberty taken this chapter with how hotels and post-championship celebrations work and other logistics but I wrote it how I needed to so just go with it. Did I edit? Yes. Are there typos and errors anyway? Probably. As always, tell me what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see next. Have a wonderful weekend lovelies!!

March 2019 

The final buzzer echoes through the Williams Arena, and the disappointment of the last couple of years is finally drowned out as the Hopkins Royals win the state championship. Surrounded by the cheers of her teammates, Paige doesn’t know if she’d call this the happiest moment of her life, the stomach flu symptoms haven’t quite faded yet, but she knows it’s definitely on her mount rushmore of times when life was great. 

For a second, as she’d been crouched over the toilet with Azzi’s hands soothingly rubbing her back, feeling her soul leave with the remnants of last night's dinner, Paige had almost lost hope. But she’d never been taught to give up without a fight. And so it hadn’t mattered that she definitely looked a little green or that standing up was taking twice the energy it normally did, Paige was going to play today. It hadn’t been a flashy scoring night but she’d done everything else her team needed. And as that lead had built and built and built, Paige knew, the moment was still hers. 

“Paigeyyyyy,” Drew is the first one to find her after her and her teammates break apart, launching his tiny body into her legs, “you won!”

Paige laughs, lifting her brother into her arms and spinning him around, “I told you I was gonna didn’t I?”

One by one, her whole family, the epitome of a modern family, pull her into hugs and then they gather into one large group hug, with Paige at the centre of it all. Her siblings look at her with pure admiration while her parent’s eyes are filled with pride. And it fulfils that part of Paige that has always lived a little more for her family than for herself. 

As her family moves away slowly, Paige finds herself face to face with Azzi’s shining smile and her heart skips a beat. And she doesn’t really know when it started or even how really, but it gets a little more difficult every time she sees Azzi, for Paige to convince herself that that fluttering in her chest is nothing. 

“You look a little pale white girl,” Azzi teases, taking a couple of steps towards the blonde, “glad you didn’t vomit all over the floor.”

“Nah no bullshit flu is stopping Paige Bueckers. The flu is scared of me,” Paige juts out her chest with a smirk, earning her a patented eye roll from the younger girl. 

“Oh yeah, you’re real scary,” Azzi indulges before pulling Paige into a bone-crushing hug, “I’m proud of you P.”

Paige smiles into the crook of Azzi’s neck, basking in the glow of the compliment. It’s these little moments they have in between their constant banter, where they let themselves be each other’s biggest cheerleaders, that makes them Paige and Azzi. They pull away, still grinning. and Paige’s eyes roam over the Team Paige jersey framing Azzi’s body. It makes her feel some type of way to see the younger girl wearing her name across her chest, but it’s not a feeling Paige is quite ready to accept. Perhaps it’s been written in their destiny that someday things will change, that eventually they’ll both have to confront the something more that’s simmering underneath it all, but for now, Paige just wants to protect what they already have. 

“That’s a pretty jersey,” she says with a wink, fingers rushing over the soft material. 

“I was forced at gunpoint to wear it,” Azzi sighs dramatically, “I was actually cheering for Stillwater. Their pg’s kinda cute.”

Paige bristles at the comment, the queasiness from this morning returning with vengeance, “she’s mid as hell on and off the court.”

“Don’t be petty Paige. You think she’d let me wear her jersey instead?” 

“You know what,” Paige fights a losing battle with the quick surge of anger that’s taking birth in her stomach, “how about you take off my winner’s jersey and go to the loser’s locker room and beg for her jersey instead.”

She knows Azzi’s joking, knows the point guard on the other team isn’t even really Azzi’s type, knows that even if Azzi’s being serious, Paige doesn’t have a right to feel this way. But that green eyed monster is clawing at her heart, squeezing it and making it hard to breathe. 

“Oh- hey hey hey,” Azzi’s quick to grab at her when Paige tries to storm off, “chill dude. You know I’m just kidding.”

“Well it wasn’t funny,” Paige pouts, aware that she’s being unnecessarily childish. 

Azzi opens her mouth, about to make some smartass quip but there must be something about how genuinely frustrated Paige looks that softens her expression, “I came to watch you P. I have no idea what that other girl was doing. I was cheering for you the whole time.”

“You’re so sappy,” Paige snorts, throwing a handful of confetti at Azzi, but inside, the ice cold jealousy melts into something warm and lovely, spreading through her heart into her veins. 

“Can’t even say nice shit without you being a dick about it,” Azzi rolls her eyes, as she links her arms through Paige’s,  “now come on, let’s go celebrate you.”

***

It’s almost 2 a.m. when Paige’s teammates finally begin to filter out of her house, leaving with droopy eyes and tired smiles. She and Azzi stand in the doorway, waving goodbye to every last one of them and it feels a little domestic, like a couple after a dinner party. Paige shakes that thought away the minute it begins to form, forcing herself to ignore the burst of wouldn’t that be lovely that blooms in her chest.

“What if I just fell asleep here?” Paige sags against the doorframe. 

“You’d probably fall flat on your face and I’d get an epic video of it.”

“You’re so fucking mean to me.”

“Oh yeah right because you’re so nice to me.”

“Am to,” Paige retorts, before she makes grabby hands towards Azzi, “carry me?”

Azzi swats her hands away, “Absolutely not lazy, it’s one flight of stairs.”

“That’s like 20 steps,” Paige whines. To be honest, she’s not that tired. Out of the two of them, she’s probably closer to being a night owl. But Paige is nothing if not a little bit of nuisance, especially when it comes to Azzi. 

“Are you an athlete or not,” Azzi chides, rolling her eyes. 

“Bro I just won a championship AND I had the flu. And you won’t even carry me? What kind of best friend are you?”

“Paige.”

“Azziiiiii.”

“Paige I’m tired.”

“Pleeeeeaseeee.”

The younger girl sighs, a sign of her caving in, before turning around so her back is facing Paige's front, “fine, get on you big baby.”

“YES-”

“Dude shut up, you’re gonna wake everybody up,” Azzi groans, always the responsible one. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Paige whispers as she jumps onto Azzi’s back, the force of it causing the brunette to take a couple steps forward, “fucking hell Azzi don’t drop me.”

Azzi lets out an indignant squawk, as she regains her balance,  “with that attitude, I should drop you.”

“If you’re too weak to carry me, just say that,” Paige teases, wrapping her legs firmly around Azzi’s torso.  She buries her shit-eating grin in her best friend’s neck, as she loops her arms around Azzi’s shoulders.

“It is not my fault you’ve put on like a hundred pounds since I last saw you.”

Azzi squeals when Paige pinches at her ribcage and the blonde immediately slaps a hand on her best friend’s mouth, “what happened to being quiet? Now, onwards horsey- OW! Did you just fucking bite my hand!?”

“What happened to being quiet?” Azzi mocks, adjusting Paige’s weight on her back as she begins to walk towards the staircase, grumbling something under her breath about ‘ungrateful best friends’ but Paige knows she doesn’t mean a word of it. She snuggles further into Azzi’s neck, letting herself breathe in the scent of the younger girl. 

When Azzi had first left Minnesota, after they’d spent every second since the plane ride back from Argentina, Paige had thought that that hollowness in her chest was temporary, that it would fade once she got back into daily life. It didn’t. And the thing is the word miss had existed in Paige’s dictionary before too but she doesn’t think she really understood what it meant til she started to miss Azzi. 

As soon as they reach Paige’s bedroom, Azzi’s already swatting Paige off her back. The blonde falls back onto the pillows on her bed with a content sigh, watching with a cheeky grin as Azzi pretends to stretch out the muscles on her back and her arms.

“I think that might have broke my fucking back,” the younger girl groan, face scrunching up in mock exhaustion, “and I have to sit on a plane again tomorrow.”

That wipes the smile straight off Paige's face. It’s so easy to get lost in the moment with Azzi, so easy to forget that they spend less time together than they do apart. They haven’t bothered with the actual lights but even in the dim glow of the moon through Paige’s windows, Azzi sees her best friend’s change in expression clearly, her own face becoming melancholic. Sighing, she climbs onto the bed herself and lies down next to Paige, intertwining her hands with the older girl’s. 

“You could stay a little longer,” Paige says after a moment, eyes resolutely focused on the ceiling. 

Azzi let out a wistful sigh, “I wish. But you know I can’t.”

“You can, you just won’t, little miss goody-two-shoes,” the light-hearted teasing eases some of the mood as they both let out soft giggles. They dissolve into a comfortable silence before, “I can’t wait til we’re playing for UConn together.”

Paige misses the way Azzi stiffens a little next to her, too enthralled with imagining a future where she and her best friend could conquer the world together. She knows Azzi, with all her indecisive tendencies, hasn’t quite come around to being anywhere near ready to pick a college team yet but Paige still has time to convince her and Paige Bueckers is nothing if not persuasive. 

“So it’s definitely UConn then?” 

“Yeah. I mean it’s UConn dude. The UConn. They’re the best. All these other programs are nice but when UConn calls, you don’t say no to that shit,” and Paige means that with all her heart. As the number one recruit in her class, there had been no shortage of offers and of course Paige had entertained them for a little while. But the minute Geno Auriemma had given his offer, everything else had become obsolete. She hadn’t committed yet, still maintaining a façade of being in the decision stage, but all of that was just a front. Paige knows she’s meant to be a UConn husky, there’s no way around it. 

“I think you’ll make a pretty damn good Husky,” Azzi says with a soft smile, as she absentmindedly plays with Paige’s fingers. 

“We’ll make damn good Huskies,” Paige affirms. 

“I don’t know P, California’s pretty tempting,” it’s said teasingly but a hint of seriousness slips through the cracks anyway. 

Paige scoffs, “cause it’s hot? Bruh that much heat would be boring. Connecticut gets all four seasons. We’d get the heat and the snow.”

“I get all of that in Virginia already,” Azzi points out with a huff, “maybe I want something different.”

“You do get something different. You get to play with me. That’s different.”

“Yeah but-”

“Dude why are you fighting me on this? Do you not want to be on the same team as me or something?” Paige asks agitatedly, suddenly feeling frustrated with the turn the conversation had taken. 

“Okay breathe,” Azzi gives her a stern side-eye, “I was just saying California’s nice. Of course I want to be on your team. Did the shirt not make that obvious?”

Involuntarily, Paige has to smile at the memory of Azzi’s jersey, the team Paige that had been loudly imprinted across her chest, “right, sorry got a little carried away. I just always want you on my team, you know?”

“I’m always on Team Paige. I always have been. I always will be,” Azzi says firmly, as if it’s the most obvious truth in the world.  

When Paige turns her head to look at her best friend, the younger girl is already looking back at her and the sincerity in Azzi’s eyes makes Paige’s heart stutter. The moon shines against Azzi’s face and Paige swears she can see every little detail in the dim light. And the thing is Paige has always known Azzi’s a pretty girl, she’s not blind. But it’s different tonight. Tonight Azzi’s the kind of beautiful that Paige wants to memorise until it’s imprinted in the back of her eyelids, the kind of beautiful that she wants to lock away in a treasure chest and preserve only for her own eyes to ever see again. The kind of beautiful that Paige knows she isn’t allowed to think of Azzi as. But still, right now, Azzi’s the kind of beautiful that makes Paige want to try and see if maybe, just maybe, there’s the possibility for something more. 

That night, when she finally falls asleep to the sound of her best friend’s quiet breathing, Paige dreams of UConn and championships and at the end of it all, kissing Azzi under the confetti. 

***

April 2024

There’s 14 seconds left in the National Championship game and UConn is ahead by eight points. Adrenaline courses through Paige’s veins as that one elusive dream of hers seems to finally be coming closer and closer to fruition. Winning a National Championship had been on her mind since she’d first picked up a basketball. The minute she’d committed to UConn, it had felt inevitable and yet year after year, her team had fallen just a little short. But this afternoon, it seems like it’s finally within grasp. 14 seconds to go. 14 steps closer to having her perfect moment. 

Except, every time Paige had imagined this moment, she’d expected her best friend to be there. In the beginning, before everything, she’d dreamed of them being on the court together, running into each other’s arms the minute the buzzer sounded. And then, until the last second today before she had to take the court, Paige had just assumed that when she’d look in the stands, somewhere in the crowd, there’d be the one face she wanted to see most in the world. But no matter how much she squinted, that face had been nowhere to be found and Paige had forced herself to compartmentalise her disappointment, and focus on the game. She hadn’t looked at the crowd since. 

The ball is in the other team’s hands, their point guard, diligently calling out plays before she inbounds it. Coach’s words echo in Paige’s head, try for a clean steal but don’t under any circumstances foul. Their pg inbounds the ball and the shot clock starts to count down. The ball bounces through the hands of different players on the other team but the UConn defence is stifling. Their coach is out of timeouts and it isn’t until the last millisecond that they heave up a prayer shot. And it doesn’t matter if it goes in, it’s a two point possession game, but Paige’s eyes are glued on the basketball anyways. 

The shot is an airball. The buzzer sounds through the arena. UConn wins their 12th national championship. 

For a second, everything goes silent around Paige. The normally over-excitable girl, known for her insane golden retriever energy, is perfectly still. It takes a couple more seconds for the adrenaline to hit. And then she’s screaming, pummeling her body into the rest of her teammates as the bleed blue crowd goes wild. She loses herself in the noise of her teammates cheering and the bright lights of cameras flashing nearby. They did it. And it doesn’t erase just how fucking hard the last couple of year had been, but it makes the burden significantly lighter. 

Paige rushes through the handshake line, the opposing team’s coach giving her an appreciative review of her performance before she’s recaptured into a group hug by her teammates. It’s a surreal feeling really, one that’s far better than even her most wonderful dreams. For the first time since the game began, Paige lets her gaze wander over to the family section who are all tearfully hugging, smiling at her parents and then her siblings and then- 

When her eyes meet Azzi’s, it’s like the last piece of the puzzle has finally settled into its rightful place, completing the perfect picture of Paige’s perfect moment. A #5 UConn jersey hangs loosely against Azzi’s hips as she smiles shyly at her best friend. And Paige is scared to blink, scared if she looks away, the girl in front of her will disappear. It takes everything in her to not rush into the stands, pull her best friend into her and kiss her under the confetti. 

Azzi doesn’t budge when the rest of the family and friends crew start to move towards the court. There’s too much attention, too much media, for that to be a feasible option. Paige wishes they would all just disappear, let her have her moment the exact way she’d pictured it. She thinks she’d like to fulfil that dream of hers, kiss Azzi in the confetti, twirl her around, and between it all, let the world know that she was Paige’s. 

As always, Drew is the first person to reach her. He’s a little too big for her to pick up, but she spins him around anyway. 

“You won Paigey,” her little brother squeals and he might be older now, but that innocent admiration of his older sister is as palpable as always, “I knew you could do it!”

“Thanks for always believing in me, little dude,” Paige says softly, leaning her cheek against the top of Drew’s head.

Over the top of her brother's head, Paige realises with sudden panic that Azzi’s not there anymore. Dread filters into her bloodstream, the voices in her head screaming it was too good to be true. The way her body tenses doesn’t go unnoticed by her mother who’s quick to hold her. 

“She said to tell you she’d see you at the hotel later,” Amy Jo says with a knowing smile, before letting Paige’s body sag into hers. She rubs her daughter’s back as relief settles into the younger girl's features, “proud of you Paigey.”

Paige smiles into her mother’s chest. Last year had been the hardest of her life and for a while the light at the end of the tunnel had been hard to see. Today, she feels the light surrounding her, washing away all the darkness from the last few years, bathing her in the glow of happiness. 

***

“I always knew you’d look good in a UConn jersey.”

Azzi’s eyes fly open and Paige smirks, leaning her body against the wall. The last couple of hours had been a whirlwind of media, champagne and excited chatter about what the after party would be like. Paige’s focus had been on celebrating, but the thought of getting back to Azzi had been a constantly lingering presence in the back of her mind. And as the bus had gotten closer to the hotel, anxiety had creeped in because what if Azzi wasn’t there? What if she’d changed her mind? 

Paige had smiled for the fans outside the hotel, diligently posing for pictures and signing autographs, ignoring the heaviness in heart. But as soon as she was far away from prying eyes, she was bolting towards her room. And then everything was okay. Paige has heard a lot of cliché things about love, about how it makes you hear violins and see stars and all of that, about how it increases your heart rate and makes you flush. But Paige thinks all of that can’t quite be right. Because when she’d seen Azzi, curled up in her sheets, #5 jersey crumpled but still fitted around her body, Paige had only felt a sense of calm. And that Paige thinks, is probably the actual truth of love, it’s about finding peace and to Paige, Azzi has always been her peace. 

“I’d look great in any jersey,” Azzi claps back groggily, moving to sit up. 

“But you look the best in mine. You always have,” Paige tries to keep her voice teasing, but it comes out sounding rather wistful, and the next words are even softer, “you came.”

Azzi bites her lips, looking down at her fiddling thumbs, “you asked me to.”

Those four little words carve themselves into a little crevice in Paige’s heart as if they’ll stay there forever, as if they’ll echo through her entire body for the rest of time. She practically throws herself onto the younger girl, the force of it pushing Azzi back down into the pillows, as she buries her head in the crook of Azzi’s neck. Their legs slot together of their own accord and it’s a little bit like they’re trying to meld into each other’s skin the way they press themselves as close as possible, til there’s barely space for air in between them. They lie like that for god knows how long; it goes by in a rush and yet ever so slowly. 

“I’m really fucking happy you’re here,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s skin, “really fucking happy.”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, humming into Paige’s hair as she tightens her grip on the blonde’s waist but Paige can tell by the way she stiffens underneath her, that Azzi’s holding herself back from something. Her heart hammers in her chest as she lifts her face from Azzi’s neck to inspect the younger girl’s face. 

“What aren’t you saying to me Az?” she whispers quietly with a sinking feeling.

“Paige,” Azzi closes her eyes. And just that is enough for Paige to understand exactly what’s going through her best friend’s head and suddenly she wishes she’d never asked, just let them have this moment. 

“Never mind, I don't want to hear it.”

“That’s not how that works. I- I wanted to wait a little but we- we need to talk.”

“No we don’t,” Paige retorts stubbornly, fighting the tears threatening to spill, “I don’t want to.”

“Paige-”

The girl in question pushes herself off of Azzi, rising to sit on her knees, “this is meant to be the best day of my life Azzi.”

“I know- I’m sorr-”

“What game are you playing, Azzi? Why even fucking come if you were never gonna stay?” Paige spits out. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” Azzi says softly, as she sits up “maybe- maybe I should have stayed away. But it’s you Paige, it’s you and I- I’ve never been that good at staying away from you. And maybe I’m just really selfish but I- I told you once that I wanted to be there when your dreams came true and so- here I am.”

They’d barely known each other when Azzi had said that, when they had just been young innocent girls with a tentative friendship, lying in the grass and sharing their dreams. Back then, the words had thrown Paige off. She hadn’t quite understood why they had meant that much to her, why they had filled her with more warmth than the sun shining above them. But she’d tucked them away in a little corner of her heart hoping she’d understand it better when she was older. She’s older now and she understands. Except every single emotion she’d felt at fifteen is heightened with the realisation that the words had meant something to Azzi too. And-

Paige surges forward to kiss Azzi. She’s pretty sure this bipolar act of theirs will be the death of them someday but it’s the only thing in the moment that makes sense. Azzi is hesitant at first, clearly too in her head, always the overthinker, but she gives in when Paige squeezes at her waist. It’s not as if they’ve kissed that many times before but it feels familiar, a little bit like coming home. She moves to straddle Azzi’s hips and they can’t get any closer really with every bit of their bodies pressed together now, but Paige tries anyways, tries to etch please don’t leave me into the other girl’s skin. And she isn’t sure if the salt she can taste is from the tears steadily streaming from Azzi’s eyes or the ones free-falling from her own. 

The minute Azzi pulls away, Paige misses her. 

“We can’t-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Paige cuts Azzi off immediately, resting her forehead against the younger girl’s, “please.”

“Paige,” Azzi breathes out, “I have to go.”

“No you don’t,” Paige says stubbornly. 

“Paige please-”

“Stay- fuck please- Azzi- just give me tonight. Tomorrow we can talk and you can-,” Paige swallows, not wanting to say leave out loud, “but please- tonight can we just pretend? Can you give me that? Fuck- can I just have tonight? Please- just- stay.”

Azzi lets out a shaky breath, “it won’t make it hurt less.”

“I know- fuck- I know but I just don’t want it to hurt right now.”

“Okay,” Azzi whispers slowly, thumb caressing Paige’s wet eyelashes, “okay, I’ll stay tonight.”

Paige kisses her again. 

***

The UConn team falls in love with Azzi in a matter of hours. No one had been shocked when Paige had shown up to the after party a.k.a everybody gathering at the hotel bar, fashionably late and with a nervous Azzi teetering behind her. It had been awkward at first; everyone was a little unsure of how to act around the new presence. Not only was Azzi from a rival team, but everyone was at least a little aware of her tumultuous relationship with their star player. But then KK had wanted to film a tiktok that needed someone to do random camerawork and when everybody else had groaned, Azzi had quietly volunteered. Much to KK’s delight, Azzi turned out to be quite the cameraman. And that apparently was all that was needed and Paige marvels at the way Azzi just fits.

She moves around Paige’s team as if they’re just as much hers. One second she’s timing some stupid drinking game that KK and Ice are playing, the next she’s sitting in a corner laughing with a more subdued Ash and Q. 

Aubrey and Ayanna gush over their girlfriend and Azzi’s coos over their pictures, a hint of wistfulness on her face when she meets Paige’s eyes. 

The team does their routine of teasing Aaliyah’s about being vegetarian and Azzi diligently backs the Canadian up with a spiel of how tofu isn’t actually that bad. That gets her a hi-5 from Aaliyah despite the eye rolls from the rest of the team. 

Despite being a little tipsy from having been dragged into doing shots with Amari and Carol, the two other people she knows pretty well, Azzi diligently lets Inés and Jana teach her little bits of Portuguese and Egyptian. 

Even Nika sheds her frostiness, amused by Azzi’s curiosity to learn her native language beyond just the curse words, and teaches the younger girl a couple of words. Azzi rolls her eyes fondly when she realises she’s been taught to say UConn is the best team ever in Croatian and amidst Nika’s laughter, Paige knows is a hidden acceptance. 

But the best part of it is that although Azzi’s suddenly being pulled in all different directions by various UConn girls, she never really leaves Paige’s side through it all. There’s always a little bit of them touching, whether it’s their shoulders or their knees, even when they’re both involved in completely different conversations and activities. It feels oddly domestic and Paige is reminded of the part after her state championship all over again. The burst of i want this forever that stirs in her chest makes her want to sob because it collides head first against a wall of this is only for tonight. And Paige knows that one night won’t ever be enough for her. 

“Aye Paige’s girl, come play truth or shots with,” KK’s loud voice breaks through Paige’s cloud of distress and it’s eclipsed by the implication of those two words. 

Paige’s girl. The phrases makes itself home in Paige’s heart, sounding so fucking right. She hasn’t let herself acknowledge it truly ever but that’s how it’s always been in Paige’s mind. It’s how she’s always thought of Azzi. As hers. Her Azzi. Her girl. 

“I’m not-that’s not-” Azzi’s cheeks are tinted pink as she stutters through her words, withering under KK’s cocked eyebrow. 

“Uh-okay if you say so,” KK rolls her eyes, holding her hands up in a sarcastic defensive position, “guess we’re starting off truth or shots by lying.”

The rest of the team laughs as Azzi’s blush grows even deeper and Paige can’t even try and hide her smile, her own neck tingling a little bit as she tucks herself into Azzi’s side. And it’s not real, they’re not anything, but in this moment it feels a little bit like they’re everything. 

“You guys are sickening,” Ice accuses when she notices the two of them cheesily smiling at each other, “it makes me gag.”

“They’re cute. Leave them alone,” Caroline chastises, ever the supportive friend. 

Azzi leans back against Paige’s arm as the group goes around the circle, asking each other ridiculous questions, cheering like little kids when their teammates opts to drink instead of answering a vaguely invasive question. When it’s her turn, Paige can already tell by the glint in KK’s eyes that her menace mini-me is about to cause trouble. 

“Paigey cakes, when’s the last time you had sex?”

Next to her, Paige can feel Azzi stiffen immediately. The shot feels heavy in Paige’s hand as she seriously contemplates taking it. She knows why KK asked the question, probably having concocted some idea of exposing Paige and Azzi. She’d known by the waggling eyebrows that the whole team had thought the two of them were late because they’d been fucking but that couldn’t be further from the bitter truth. 

Paige chances a look at Azzi’s face as she bites down on her lips. The younger girl’s face is stoically devoid of any emotion and Paige knows she’s thinking about the night of the crash (or as Paige likes to call it, the most terrifying night of her life) except- 

“November, last year,” Paige says slowly and Azzi whips her face around to look at her, lips falling apart in shock. 

“Don’t play, there’s no fucking way,” Ice guffaws and Paige shrugs. 

“It’s the truth.”

“Bruh what the fuck,” KK looks a little shell-shocked, “how the fuck did you survive that long?”

“Some of us actually know what to do with our own fingers,” Paige quips defensively, trying to ignore the butterflies dancing in her stomach at the way Azzi’s still looking at her. 

“I bet Azzi knows all about your fingers huh Azzi?” and even that, KK’s unhinged commentary, isn’t enough to get Azzi to pull her gaze away from Paige. It’s almost as if she hadn’t heard it all. 

“You didn’t- that night?” Azzi manages to get out. 

“Couldn’t do it,” Paige mumbles, “she wasn’t you.”

Despite the horde of people around them, they’re in their own little bubble now. There are a multitude of questions swimming in Azzi’s eyes and Paige wants to answer all of them if it means that maybe just maybe, she could prevent the inevitable misery tomorrow would bring. 

“Okay Azzi, it’s your turn,” Amari’s voice draws Azzi’s attention away and Paige feels cold without the heat of it. She doesn’t know how she’ll survive tomorrow. Living in the present isn’t working and Paige finds herself already feeling the emptiness she knows will become her reality in a couple of hours. Her fingers tap an incessant pattern on her thigh as she tries to keep her focus on the game, 

Azzi swallows nervously before mustering up a grin with false confidence, “I’m ready. Hit me with your best, I’m not drinking.”

“We’ll see about that,” KK smirks, diabolically rubbing her hands together, before she turns to Nika, “all yours Nik-Nik.”

The other girls “ooh”, knowing  Nika’s reputation for being notoriously good at this game. The Croatian grins at Azzi, as she sits up from where she’d been lazily lying on the love seat, a glint of mischief in her eyes. And then her eyes meet the forlorn ones of her twin and something shifts. When she looks back at Azzi, there’s a more serious look on Nika’s face. 

“Have you ever been in love?”

There’s pin drop silence once the gravity of the question registers. The light-hearted air in the room is replaced with anticipation, as all of Paige’s teammates look back and forth between their point guard and her best friend. Paige isn’t sure if she wants to know the answer, doesn’t know if there’s an answer that wouldn’t break her heart just a little bit. For a second, it looks like Azzi’s going to drink until she puts the shot down on her hand rest until- 

“Yes,” she confesses in a whisper, and Paige feels her heart begin to race, “I have.”

“How many times?” Nika prods

“That’s not how the game works. I already answered your question.”

“Different rules for newcomers,” Nika shrugs. It’s a blatant lie but nobody says anything. Paige is still caught up in her own head and the other girls won't challenge Nika, not when they’re just as curious, “I get to ask questions til you drink.”

Azzi narrows her eyes, knowing it’s all bullshit and maybe if she wasn’t a little bit tipsy and competitive, maybe if she couldn’t feel every inch of Paige’s side pressed against her, she’d walk away but she can’t. 

“Only once,” she answers. 

“With your ex-girlfriend?” Nika asks. The way she raises an eyebrow suggests there’s only one right answer to the question. Paige doesn’t know if there’s a right or wrong answer, only that there’s an answer that would shatter her. 

“No. I was never in love with her,” Azzi directs the answer towards Nika, but everyone knows it’s meant for Paige’s ears. And despite the tornado still roaring in her body, the blonde lets out a sigh of relief. 

Nika’s intimidating demeanour cracks a little bit when that answer makes her smile, “are you in love with someone right now?”

Even if it’s not said out loud, the implication of Nika’s question, the someone, is clear. And suddenly Paige doesn’t want to hear the answer, not right now, not when they’re both a little tipsy, not when they’re surrounded by all her teammates, not when their future is so unclear. 

“Drink,” Paige cuts in, holding the shot in front of Azzi, “don’t answer it.”

“Paige-”

“Drink Azzi,” Paige says firmly. 

Azzi looks equal parts relieved and frustrated as she downs the drink, happy to have gotten out of the uncomfortable round of questioning but a little annoyed at losing in front of the UConn girls. 

“And you said you wouldn’t drink,” Nika sneers, as she hi-5’s her teammates. 

“Because you bent the rules; she did great,” Paige defends immediately and everyone snickers, the mood in the room returning to something more casual.

“So fucking pussywhipped,” Ice teases. 

“Shut up,” Paige whines, hiding her face against Azzi’s shoulder as everybody else laughs. If the voices in head screaming this is just for tonight would shut up for a second, Paige thinks maybe she could fall in love with this moment, surrounded by her found family. 

It’s almost 3 am when the team decides maybe they should start going to bed, knowing they have a morning flight back to Connecticut. Everyone else is still in a jovial mood, sufficiently drunk of both alcohol and the high of a championship but Paige’s stomach pools with dread. Every minute is a step closer to a goodbye, she’ll never be prepared to say. 

They get to the lobby of the hotel when Paige turns to Azzi, ignoring her anxiety to be a nuisance instead. 

“No,” Azzi says immediately when she sees Paige making grabby hands at her, “there’s literally an elevator Paige.”

“So? That just makes it easier for you. This is tradition.”

“In what world is this a tradition?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly. 

“Since I won the state championship,” Paige grins, “pleeeeease, I’m tired, my feet hurt.”

Azzi gives her an unimpressed look, “you’ve been sitting for the last couple of hours.”

“And before that I was winning a championship, after beating your team by the way,” Paige’s smirk widens when Azzi guffaws at catching a stray. 

“Oh fuck off. Reminding me of that is not the way to get me to carry you by the way.”

“C’mon Az, you know you’re gonna give in anyway. You know you wanna sleep, stop wasting time.”

Azzi rolls her eyes with a dramatic sight before doing exactly what she always does, giving into Paige, “hop on then you big baby.”

Paige cheers, latching on Azzi’s back as her knees circle around the other girl’s waist. Unlike when they were younger, Azzi’s doesn’t stumble anymore at the additional weight. She’s stronger now, completely solid and steady underneath Paige and that absolutely doesn’t trigger any inappropriate thoughts in the older girl’s brains, absolutely. 

“Y’all are so cringe,” KK crinkles up her face when she turns to look at them as they wait for the elevator, but there’s a certain amount of fondness in her voice, “but Azzi’s cool. Much cooler than you P boogers. You should bring her around more often.”

Paige’s smile vanishes in tandem with Azzi letting out a strangled noise. KK looks between the two of them, slowly realising maybe she’d just put her foot in her mouth. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Paige answers noncommittally, trying to keep her voice steady. 

Much to her relief, the elevator dings open, saving her from having to say anything more. She wraps her arms tighter around Azzi, burying her face as far into the other girl’s neck as she can and closing her eyes, trying to lose herself in Azzi, instead of in the jail of her own mind.

She doesn’t look up from where she’s nestled into Azzi’s skin, when the rest of her teammates start towards their own separate rooms, telling Azzi how lovely it was to meet her. 

“Can you get off her back, so I can give her a hug?” Ice pinches Paige’s arm but the older girl just shrugs her off. 

“No. Go hug someone else.”

“Bro you’re so fucking annoying,” Ice groans and Azzi sends her an apologetic wink but it doesn’t go unnoticed that she doesn’t try to shake Paige off like she normally would. It heals something in Paige to know that Azzi doesn’t want to let go either. And she doesn’t understand why they’re doing this, why they’re fighting this, when neither of them want to. 

“I think your teammates might like me better than you,” Azzi teases when they finally get back to the room and Paige climbs off of her back. The blonde is too lost in her thoughts to come back with a smart quip. And of course her best friend notices it immediately, nudging her quietly, “P? You good?”

Paige blinks up at Azzi, and even before she says the word, she knows Azzi’s already read them in her eyes, “I don’t want you to go.”

“Paige,” Azzi sighs tiredly, “what happened to pretending tonight?”

“Fuck pretending,” Paige blames the alcohol for how loud her voice comes out, guilty only because it makes the girl in front of her flinch, “I don’t want just tonight. It’s no where near fucking enough. I want forever. With you.”

“That’s not- Paige- we live on different sides of the country.”

“For now, but we can make it work. It’s us,” Paige pleads desperately. 

Azzi scoffs, stepping away from Paige, “you say that like it a good thing.”

“What-”

“Us! We don’t- it’s not- being ‘us’ is not a good thing Paige. May us from before but us now? Us now is complicated and messy and hard and I just- I can’t do this Paige.”

“You can- we can- Azzi- just- think about it okay- sleep on it- you’ll see. You’ll see, I’m right.”

Azzi shakes her head, closing her eyes as a single teardrop leaks out, “you’re making this so fucking hard Paige.”

“I don’t want to- I’m sorry- I’m so sorry baby,” the term of endearment slips through Paige’s lips before she can catch it, “but I need you to think about it once please.”

She moves to cup Azzi’s cheeks, thumb caressing away the tears, “please.”

“Okay, okay,” Azzi nods, resting her forehead against Paige’s, “I’ll think about it.”

They’re quiet as they get changed for bed, thinking about the same thing. Co-existing together comes naturally to them after years of inhabiting each other’s space and the. there's no getting in each other’s way, even if they’re both dead silent. It’s awkward when they finally get into bed, both of them lying on their back, resolutely staring up at the ceiling. Paige is the first one to move, turning onto her side so she can face Azzi. The moon shines against Azzi’s face and Paige thinks that so much has changed, but Azzi’s still that kind of beautiful, the same kind of beautiful Paige had thought of her as since the state championship. 

“What was your answer going to be,” she asks quietly. 

“To what?”

“To Nika’s question. Are you in love with someone right now?”

Azzi hesitates a little bit, before turning her own body to face Paige, “you know the answer Paige, you don’t need me to say it.”

Paige doesn’t prod, knowing they were too volatile for her to keep pushing. Instead she reaches over to intertwine their hands together. 

“Do you know what my answer would have been?”

“Yeah,” Azzi says softly, squeezing her hands, “yeah I do.”

Maybe there’s peace in knowing. Or maybe there’s only more pain. Paige doesn’t know if the truth sets her free, doesn’t know if she could ever even be set free from the shackles that bind her to Azzi, doesn’t think she even wants to be set free. But at least Azzi knows too. Maybe there’s peace in drowning together. 

***

Paige wakes up in a panic when she reaches over and finds the other side of the bed empty. She gets up with a jolt, eyes frantically searching for Azzi, until they finally land on the girl sitting on the couch next to the bed. 

“Fuck,” Paige’s voice is still wracked with sleep, “I thought you left.”

“That’s more your style,” Azzi says and Paige flinches at the reminder, “how’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good. How about you?”

“Pretty shit actually” Azzi admits, “I woke up every two seconds, scared you’d be gone.”

“Az-”

“You asked me to believe in you- to believe in us and I-” Azzi draws in a sharp breath and Paige knows she’s not going to like where this is going, “I want to- I really, really, wish I could. But I don’t. I can’t- I can’t be with you Paige- not when I’m scared you’re going to break my heart every second.”

“Azzi,” Paige scrambles across the bed, stopping when the girl in question holds her hands up. Everything in her feels like it’s on fire. There are no burn marks on her skin but she swears she’s been turned to ashes underneath. 

“And you deserve better than that too Paige. You deserve someone who- who’s not scared. Who can give you all of herself without- without holding back and I- I can’t do that.”

“You can- fuck- Azzi you can- please,” desperation leaks through every syllable as Paige fights what she knows is a losing battle. 

“Not right now. Too much has happened between us and we can’t- we can’t just ignore all of that and start something new- maybe someday- but not right now.”

Azzi stands up from her seat, hesitantly walking over to Paige’s side of the bed. She cups Paige’s face, watery dark brown eyes meeting crystal blue ones that are glistening with tears. 

“Azzi please,” Paige begs, feeling everything slip away before she’d even had a chance to fight for it. 

Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s forehead, holding them there for what feels like the briefest of seconds until she’s pulling away, “I’m sorry P.”

And then she’s gone and every part of Paige’s heart is gone with her. 

[vanishingstarrs]

hello! it me again :> sorry to bother you

I read your one shot "Try again" feat. Katsuki x reader. in it, you wrote that you'd love to write for Denki as well. did you or do you happen to know if anyone wrote a Denki x reader story / one shot or drabble where he charges everyone's gadget (phones, laptops, etc.) but readers? and he confronts them when they explain they just don't want to exploit him (like the others)? if not, how your take would be? thank you!

( hellooo ☞ ☜ this is so late omg i’m v sorry but this has been in my drafts forever and i finally finished it the other day !! i’ve never come across this fic, but i’m sure some variation of it must already exist, here is my vers. though !! pls enjoy <33 )

electric touch

You were walking down the hallway, frowning to yourself as your phone announced once again that it was low on battery. You fumbled with your cord, trying to get the damn thing to cooperate with your portable charger, which unfortunately seemed to be also lacking any of its power.

It looked like you would have to sit at the very back of class in order to plug in your phone.

Just as you began to look around your book bag for any signs of your wall plug in, you saw a group of your classmates gathering around the lockers.

You hesitated, wondering why everyone was making so much commotion.

You walked up to Jiro and nudged her side in order to get her attention,“Hey, babe, what’s going on over here?”

She chuckled,“Just Kaminari being his usual gullible self. Did you know there was a power outage last night? No one’s phone is charged, and Mineta convinced him to see how many phones he can get to a hundred before he runs out of juice and starts acting fucking stupid.”

The longer she talked, the deeper your frown became. You walked around your friend, poking your head into the classroom and spotting your class vice president and one of your best friends.

“Momochan!” You approached her desk,“Haven’t you heard what’s going on outside? Don’t you think we should stop it before he gets hurt?”

“Kaminari knows his limits.” Iida, the class president, came over as he overheard everything going on,“He’s also been warned about doing things like this before class, if he does, indeed, get hurt then he’ll be missing class in order to go to Recovery Girl and that’s solely on him.”

You huffed, turning helplessly to Aizawa for help,“Sensei—”

“Don’t involve me.” The tired man sighed.

You threw your arms up in exasperation,“Whatever!”

You took your book bag and tossed it on the desk at the very back of the class, going as far as to move the table a bit more to reach the wall plug in before going back to your previous task and looking for your charger, only to come up blank. You’d probably left it in your dorm room. Fuck. Okay, this was fine. You didn’t need your phone, and you could definitely survive without it. At least until lunch when you could go back to the dorms to grab your charger. You would just focus on work until then.

It wasn’t really too low anyway, you decided as you moved it to the edge of your desk. You wouldn’t use it unless it was emergent.

Aizawa deemed the period to be catch up time, and since you were already caught up with all your work, you decided to get ahead on future assignments. You had a project coming up in Mic’s class that he’d mentioned last week, he’d given everyone the work packets early just in case the class had procrastinators like him (his words). You worked silently, ignoring your classmates titters and giggles as they avoided working.

Your eyes couldn’t help wander over to Kaminari’s empty seat throughout the period, and even during your next few classes.

Once lunch rolled around, you motioned your friends to go on without you before turning in the other direction and heading for the infirmary. You walked in, eyes searching for Recovery Girl, but she seemed to be out.

“Hm…”

You walked further into the room, eyeing the curtain pulled in front one of the beds,“Kaminari? You in here?”

A body sitting upright immediately startled you, as a voice called out,“L/N?!”

You went around the curtain, raising your hand for a wave like an idiot and giving him a smile,“How are you feeling?”

Kaminari groaned as he sat up further,“Well, I’m not dumb anymore, I mean I am, but not in the sense that… you know what I mean. Anyway, I was just waiting on Recovery Girl to come back and dismiss me, think someone got hurt over in 2B.” He kind of went off on a tangent,“Man, I’m starving.”

You opened your bag and pulled out a clementine, going straight to peeling it,"Here."

"Thanks." His eyes lit up as he took the pieces you were handing him,"So... what brings you here?"

“Just wanted to check on you…” You shrugged when your phone dinged.

kyoka ♪ ( / ⌒0⌒＼) ツ: girl where did u go ??

y/n ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ: felt bad, came 2 infirmary to check on kaminari, start w out me !!

“Hey, your phone is—”

“It’s fine.” You chuckled as you put it away,“I won’t need it too bad, plus I already borrowed a wall port from Jiro, I’ll just sit in the back in math and get it some juice.”

“But I can—”

“Really, Kaminari, it’s fine.” You stood up, just as Recovery Girl came back,“I’ll see you in class, hopefully?”

“You don’t need to leave on my account, dear.” Recovery Girl took one look at him and nodded,“You two can head off. Nice of your girlfriend to come and check on you after the stunt you pulled this morning.”

“Oh she’s not—”

“I’m not—”

She gave a knowing look, stopping you both from saying anything else.

You chuckled awkwardly and the woman seemed to shoo you away as she began stripping the sheets on the cot Kaminari had just been on, he stood up as he was kicked out of bed and followed you into the hallway.

You offered him another orange slice.

“Walk to lunch together?” He asked with a grin.

“Okay.” You agreed,“Yeah, I mean, we’re both heading over there.”

“Right.” He nodded.

You walked in silence for a bit until he stopped all together and you turned to look at him, questioning,“You feeling okay?”

“You never ask me to charge your phone for you.”

"Right..." You weren't sure where this was headed.

"And you never laugh at me whenever my brain gets fried and I turn into an idiot... everyone else always makes fun of me and the fact that I don't really have a handle on my quirk yet, despite the year being more than halfway through."

You frowned,"That's not true, I think you've come a long way."

"There you go being nice to me again." He seemed almost exasperated… with himself? You couldn’t tell. “Why do you do that?"

"Because I'm nice?" You shrugged, unsure of what he meant exactly,"I don't know, do you want me to be mean to you, Kaminari? Because I couldn't do that. I never even ask you to charge my phone for me, it just feels like... I don't know, exploitation of your power?"

"But you've asked others to use their power to help you before, what about when you asked Sero to help tape your binder back together? Or when you had Jiro eavesdrop on Ectoplasm and Miss Midnight to know what you scored on the math test?" He brought up several points.

You felt yourself get flustered,"That's different, they're my friends so I felt comfortable asking them to do those things."

"Are we not friends?" He pouted.

"We are!" You tried to think of what to say.

"Then what's up? Why is it different when it comes to them?"

"Because I like you!" You finally revealed, you took a deep breath and turned away from him as you felt your embarrassment overpower any other emotion,"It's different because I have a crush on you, and I know you've never seen me that way, it's why you flirt with literally everyone except me, but it's okay because I would never hold that against you, and I'm rambling now, but the whole point of this, I think, is already lost, and I should get going, I'm sorry I made this whole thing super awkward, you don't have to say any—”

"I like you too."

"What?" Your eyes were wide now.

"I have a crush on you." He repeated with a laugh,"I never flirt with you because I could never stand to face your rejection, even as a joke, plus I never want to make you uncomfortable... I've liked you since the entrance exams when you beat me to one of those stupid robots, showing everyone just how strong you are."

"Oh." Was all you could say.

He grinned, cheeks looking a lot more full of color now than he had earlier that day when he landed himself a bed in the infirmary. You weren’t sure if it was because he felt better now or because he was slightly blushing.

“Oh. That's all you got to say?"

"Kind of...?” You were definitely blushing. “I don't know what to do now…”

The boy laughed, walking back over to you and taking your hand in his,"This okay to start?"

"Yeah." You agreed, readily.

Your hands must’ve been clammy, or his were, or it was some side effect from him having overused his quirk earlier, but you were sure his touch was electric.

"Good." He smiled,"Now give me your phone, there's no way I'm letting my crush walk around on five percent."

You hesitated.

"I won't go stupid again, promise, it's just one and that would be seriously embarrassing if it happened." He explained, and when you still didn't hand over the device to him, he groaned,"C'mon, please? How else am I supposed to sneakily enter my number in your phone?"

And you couldn’t say no to that.

[sitp-recs]

hello loveliest liv :) it's almost semester break for me which means a lot of time for reading drarry! (...as if i haven't been procrastinating all term reading drarry anyway... but shhhh)

so i am coming to you, my most trusted drarry reccer, cup in hand, begging for some lovely, long, plotty recs, pretty please? i'd take anything you have to offer (except for horror-themes they make me queasy ups)

sending love x

Hello my darling! Ahh how nice, you deserve a lovely and chill break full of Drarry treats! I can’t wait to leave on vacation in early August myself 🙏🏼 I did two lists with long, plotty recs (here and here) but it was a while back so I thought I’d add some more. I haven’t read much this year tbh, but really enjoyed these long-ish fics. Happy readings!

your braids like a pattern by @hoko-onchi-writes (E, 31k)

Harry soldiers on with the get-to-know you activity, noting each counsellor's interests and repeating their names. Harry’s eyes land on Malfoy. He’s the last counsellor in the circle. One blond eyebrow is arched, his smirky mouth turned up at the corners. That can’t be good.

À Bon Chat by @oknowkiss (E, 35k)

Draco Malfoy didn’t intend to lead a life of crime after the war. It’s just that being good had turned out so incomprehensibly boring. Now he's thirty-five, a fully redeemed member of society, the darling of the wizarding social pages, and a newly minted consultant for Gawain Robards' Investigative Research division. In his spare time, he enjoys good whisky, casual sex, and moonlighting as an art thief.

Truth to Materials by @toomuchplor, lately (E, 54k)

In which Harry learns to appreciate art and other pleasures of the flesh.

this heaven of mud by @garagepaperback (E, 94k)

winter, 2002: Draco Malfoy is absolutely fine, thank you very much. summer, 2008: Harry Potter is, er- well, not good exactly, but definitely better. Yeah. Better than before. A love story told in two somewhat unreliable parts, over six years. Featuring secret shagging, to friends, to the 'how is it fair for someone to say your name like that' sort of friends, to, finally, someone you could call a home.

Never Mind the Bollocks by @the-sinking-ship (E, 118k)

If someone told Harry six months ago that by autumn he would be single, living on whisky and toast, and dancing the night away with Draco Malfoy, he would have told them to get their head checked. And yet, here he was.

Beholden by @faith2wood (E, 123k)

Draco Malfoy might not be a killer, but it turns out he's an effective painkiller. If stopping pain was all Draco's touch did, things might not be so complicated, but either way Harry can't afford to be choosy.

[genshinluvr]

A Guide on How to Study

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You have been studying for three final exams that are looming over you. You stayed up countless nights to study, but you're not retaining any information in your notes and study guides. Luckily for you, your twenty-five boyfriends have the perfect guide on how to study for your final exams.

Note: This is a mini-fic for my university students who have finals coming up! I have finals coming up in three days, and your girl hasn't studied the fifty-plus terms for Greek and Latin 💀 I'm hoping this is a motivation for all of you to do well on your exams and this as a way for me to force myself to study because I really do need to study 🥲Since it's finals week for me, I will be posting mini-fics for Genshin and HSR for this week. I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.4k

You sit at the table in the library, staring at your study guides sprawled before you. You have four final exams to study for, and here you are, staring at the papers and not retaining the information you need to remember before the impending day. You have stayed up countless nights trying to get yourself to process the given information by your professors at the Akademiya, yet you’re not able to retain any information.

“I’m fucked,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands.

“Still studying for your upcoming final exams?” a familiar voice asks.

You peek over your shoulders to see Venti peering down at you with the other men standing at his side. You sigh, resting your head on the table, and nod. Unfortunately, you are still studying for the final exams. 

The same exams the professors have been encouraging your class to study since the beginning of the quarter. Did you do that? Kind of, but as time went by, you lost the motivation of having to study constantly. It started off just fine, but you gave up halfway into the quarter and put it off. You’re starting to question why you chose to enroll to be a student at the Akademiya. That’s one of your biggest regrets since being thrown into your boyfriends’ world.

Poke.

You’re brought out of your thoughts when someone pokes you in the cheek. You blink and look at the person from your peripheral vision to see Itto standing close to you. You groan and lean in your seat, sighing once again while stretching back.

Itto clears his throat. “Onikabuto booboo bear, you look exhausted. Have you been taking breaks in between your studies like how we told you to?” Itto asks as he pulls out a chair from under the table and sits beside you.

You stare at Itto, shrugging your shoulders. “Kind of, but I decided to cut my breaks short because whenever I take breaks, they’re longer than it’s supposed to be,” you reply.

Al Haitham raises his eyebrows at you. “What do you mean? Are you implying that instead of taking fifteen-minute breaks in between your studies, you would extend it?” 

You smile at Al Haitham, rubbing the back of your neck before slowly turning to your study guides in front of you. Now is a time to study and act like you weren’t procrastinating not long ago. You grab your papers and flip to the ones you haven’t gotten to yet, and begin skimming through them. Maybe that’s why you’re not retaining information. You’re skimming through them and not actually trying to take time to process the definitions and equations. 

Tighnari sighs, rubbing his temples. “Oh, [Y/N]. You’re setting yourself up for failure if all you’re doing is skimming through your notes. Did you know that berries are good for your memories? I recommend snacking on them as you study,” says Tighnari, reaching for your notes.

You bury your face into your hands and close your eyes. You know they all mean well, but you feel like a child being scolded for not doing well on a test that hasn’t even happened yet. You lean on the table, pressing your forehead on the cold wooden desk, closing your eyes. Dear Archons, you’re tempted to go to give up and accept your fate at this point. You can study in the morning, right? A ceramic plate is placed beside your head, grabbing your attention. You look at the plate to see sliced fruits. 

Zhongli pats your head. “Make sure not to starve yourself as you’re studying. Even if you say you’re not hungry, it’s good to have a snack or two while you study,” Zhongli says, smiling at you.

The only beacon of light during the hard times that is your studies is the men bringing sliced fruit to you while you study. It’s a small gesture, but it means a lot to you. They’re always checking up on you to make sure you’re doing well. While they care about your future in the Akademiya, they care more about your mental and emotional well-being. Heizou and Aether sit across from you.

“If you’re not able to study anymore, maybe it’s a sign to call it a day and continue tomorrow!” Aether suggests, reaching across the table and squeezing your hand.

Heizou nods. “You have time to study for your final exams! If you continue to push yourself, you’ll burn out and lose the motivation to study,” Heizou interjects.

You give Heizou and Aether a strained smile. You grab a sliced fruit and begin nibbling on it. How are they going to react when you tell them how many days you have left in your studies before the impending day? 

Cyno leans over to look at your face, narrowing his eyes while you stare at him with wide eyes. Cyno sighs and leans on the table, shaking his head with disapproval. Did Cyno see through you? This man can read you like a book. He has you figured out, like how he has TCG figured out.

“Sweetheart, when is your exam?” Cyno asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You clear your throat. “It’s on Friday! The exam is being hosted in the lecture hall at 9 PM and—”

Kaveh looks at you with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, NINE? At night?!” Kaveh interrupts, propping his hands on his hips.

You nod. “Yeah, it’s at night. The exam is almost two hours,” you reply. “I think….”

You pull your calendar out from your backpack and flip to the month. Your brain is all over the place, and you’re in desperate need of sleep. As previously stated, you stayed up countless nights to study, and you can’t remember when was the last time you had a proper sleep. Thoma looks over your shoulders, scanning the calendar you keep in your backpack with you at all times. 

“Oh! Okay, so you made a mistake there. The exam you were talking about, that’s at 9 PM, is your last exam for finals week. You have other exams before that. The first exam starts at 6 PM,” says Thoma, pointing at the scribbled words on the calendar. 

You stare at the calendar and close it, laying it on the table before lightly banging your head on the table. Oh, you’re definitely screwed. After a few minutes, you stop banging your head on the table and sigh loudly.

“Snookums, we can help you study if you’d like! We can go through the notes together a few times, and after that, we can start quizzing you on the materials in your notes and study guides!” Childe suggests, pulling your seat out from under the table and turning you around to face him and the others.

You hum and chew on the inside of your cheek, contemplating if it’s a good idea to have the men help you with your studies. Some of them are going to get bored and distracted, and you don’t blame them since that’s been you for the last few days now. Aside from that, it’ll be good to have someone help you with your studies because someone will be quizzing you on your knowledge of the subject instead of it being you skimming through it and not retaining any information. 

“Alright, I’ll take up on your offer.”

Diluc had you move to another area of the library in the estate. According to your other boyfriends, a change in scenery is good since you’ve been sitting at the same table for hours and would go to the same spot every time you study for any of the exams you have.

“We’re going to set up a routine on how the study session is going to go. All of us will go over the study guide and notes with you, alright?” Diluc says, patting the spot beside him.

You sit next to him and pull your notes out from your backpack. It was a lot to study, and despite the men volunteering to help you, they can see why you get overwhelmed easily with your studies. The study session hasn’t even started yet, and some of them want to call it a day already.

“How are you going to retain all of these things before the exam?” Xiao mutters, holding up stacks of notes and study guides in the air.

You laugh bitterly and shake your head. “I don’t! I just pray to whichever Archon is listening to me and hope for the best that some of these things stick to my brain before the exam starts,” you reply.

Scaramouche plops down beside you and takes some of the notes from your hands. “And does that work?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Sometimes, but it really depends on what I’m studying and how the information is placed in the exam,” you answer. You look at Zhongli and give him a sheepish smile. “Looks like I’ll be praying to Morax before the exam, hoping he’ll bless me and let me pass all of my exams.” You bat your eyelashes at the former Geo Archon.

Zhongli chuckles and shakes his head, handing you a sliced fruit to eat. You grab the plate from Zhongli’s hands before passing out fruits to the others around you. Dainsleif was in charge of keeping up with the time. The only time you can take a break from your studies is if Dainsleif tells you it’s time to take a break.

“You will be going through your notes and study guide for one class. You have an hour to go over it, and once one hour is up, you will have a fifteen-minute break from your studies before one of them starts quizzing you on what you went over,” says Dainsleif.

You raise your hand before speaking, “Wait, so… is the fifteen-minute break a break from studying and I get to relax for a little bit, or is it a fifteen-minute break from going over my notes and I have to refresh my memory before being quizzed?”

“The fifteen-minute break can be anything for you. If you want to take that fifteen-minute break to go through what you have studied, then you can do that. But we recommend you take that time to relax because cramming your studies won’t help,” replies Ayato.

You sigh and flop back on the chair, staring at the ceiling while contemplating your choices in life. This is what you get for wanting to be a strong and independent person who needs no man to help them with being successful. Here you are, having your lovely boyfriends assist you with your studies. As much as you want to show them you can do it on your own, you can’t do it because you have tried it for the last few days, and look at where you are right now. 

Not retaining any information while getting a headache for stressing yourself out. It’s also nice to have company while you study because it gives you some motivation and you won’t feel lonely! Even though you know some people tend to be distracting with their touchiness, they understand how important these exams are for you and your future at the Akademiya. 

“Okay, let’s get started with the studying! We’ll continue this routine up until the day of your exams. When it’s the day of your exams, we will help you with your studies at the House of Daena before you go to the lecture hall,” says Gorou.

You can always trust Gorou to help you come up with a strategy for your studies. The men will give Gorou some suggestions, and Gorou puts them together to make a strategy that is usually successful. The only plan that Gorou came up with that ended up failing was trying to surprise you for your birthday. You were able to figure things out because they took you to many places you’ve never been to, making you suspicious of them.

Baizhu stops before you and tilts your head up, examining you closely while Changsheng slithers close to your face, eyeing you with her dark pink eyes. You blink at Changsheng and Baizhu, watching the white snake retreat back onto Baizhu’s shoulders.

“It seems like [Y/N] hasn’t been taking their melatonin. They’ve been skipping out on their sleep,” says Changsheng.

Baizhu sighs and rubs his temples. “Just as I feared. [Y/N], I know you’re going to take the fifteen-minute break to review the materials you’ve studied. I think it’s best for you to take that time and nap instead,” says Baizhu, stroking your cheek.

You stare at Baizhu and look over at the others, pressing your lips into a thin line. You see, you would love to take a nap during your fifteen-minute break from your studies, but you don’t think it’ll be a good idea. You can do anything other than take a nap.

You place your hand over Baizhu’s hands, giving them a squeeze. “What if I wake up from my nap and do not want to study? Then what?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at Baizhu.

Kazuha sits on the ground and grabs your study guides and notes. “Oh, you won’t have to worry about that,” Kazuha smiles, flipping through your notes. 

“We’ll make sure you don’t over-nap or continue to take a nap after waking up,” replies Albedo, ruffling your hair.

Kaeya smirks, raising his hand up. “But if you do struggle with it, I know a way to wake you right up,” he winks at you. 

You point an accusing finger at Kaeya. “If you’re going to shove your cold hands up my shirt, I will never forgive you for it,” you state.

Kaeya chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. Capitano, Pierro, and Pantalone gesture for you to start looking over your notes and study guides after Dainsleif brings out a timer that Dottore lets him borrow for the time being. The perfect guide to studying is having a study group (even if the person or study group isn’t in the same Darshan as you), taking breaks after an hour of studying, quizzing each other based on what you have studied, having a snack while studying, and pray to Morax that you’ll pass your exams.

If you pass your final exams, you’ll be rewarding Zhongli and the rest of the men with something for helping you study for your final exams. You’re not sure what it is, but you’re hoping it’s not going to involve Mora. 

Note: I was going to post this after the HSR fic, but I was so exhausted that I could barely get myself to type the mini-fic and post it. So, yes, this is a late post. Since this is my finals week, I'm hoping to post the second route of the Burning Desire series after my finals week. Tighnari is next because he did lead the poll and is still leading. I'm going to try to make a new fanfic request form since I'm not a huge fan of the current request form. Any requests sent in with the old/current format are void. Anyway, to my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @xyji, @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @mompt2, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @samarill, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @kazuhaprnt, @lunarapple, @emilymikado, @mabie, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @heyimkay, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @thelovebuggs, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

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[inkedinfusions]

𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 | geto suguru chapter 3

⊱𖤓⊰ | In which you, a thief, meet the lost prince of the kingdom.

── ★ ˙ ̟ . ⚜️ .ᐟ.ᐟ masterlist

⊰–prev next–⊱

𝟎𝟑 | 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞

chapter word count: 3.5k

content warnings: normal warnings for the tangled movie lol

a/n: Only two chapters left after this one! Fun fact about this fic, I watched the Tangled movie easily like ten times in between rewinding the scenes and just me procrastinating writing but still wanting to feel productive.  

Thanks for reading!

“𝐎𝐎𝐔, 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓,” you say when the light of the lantern illuminates a skeleton pinned to the side of the tunnel.

“That’d be you if they left you hanging there,” Suguru jokes, only smiling wider when you turn to glare at him.

“Not funny.”

“It is a little,” he presses, chuckling when you turn away to avoid showing the grin that worms its way to your face. “So, Starlight, where did you come from?”

“Classified information, sorry princess” you immediately say. “I’d ask the same, but I don’t think you have an answer other than your tower.”

“You’d be correct.”

“And I’m not supposed to mention the hair, or the mother, or the frog.” You nod along with Suguru, who confirms each thing you won’t find out, only ever saying something different about his lizard.

“It's a chameleon, actually,” he corrects. 

“Uh actually—shut up, nerd,” you tease. “But changing the topic—if seeing the lanterns is like, your life’s desire or something, why haven’t you gone before?”

“That's because… well…” he says, trailing off when stray rocks fall from the ceiling above you. 

“Starlight—?” Suguru begins, tensing when a familiar neigh breaks the silence, light suddenly flooding the tunnel. 

“Oh shit,” you say when the guards appear from the corner, making the tunnel jostle. “Run!”

You both sprint through the tunnels until you come to the exit. But it is too soon to cry for victory, as there is only a ledge and a broken bridge greeting you on the other side. There are two tunnels below, but one gets crossed off your list when Jogo and Mahito—the Curses—burst through it. How the hell did they find you? You question when they glare up at you.

“Who’s that?” Suguru asks.

“They don’t like me,” you say, cursing your rotten luck. 

“Who’s that?” he repeats when the guards appear, surrounding you.

“They don’t like me either,” you answer. 

Then, to top it all off, the horse with a personal vendetta against you gallops out of the tunnel. 

“Who’s—” Suguru starts. 

“Let’s just assume nobody here likes me,” you retort, searching for alternative routes.

“Here,” he says, handing you his pan. 

You almost drop it, caught off guard, and you can only watch as he throws his hair like a rope, accomplishing getting it to wrap around one of the abandoned wooden structures the miners once relied on. 

“Hey—!” you shout at Suguru when he jumps, although your worry is short-lived as he swings in the air and safely lands on another platform of dirt below. Well, that's another way to solve the dilemma of escaping. 

You have no such tricks up your sleeve, so your eyes dart around the cliffs, rivers and abandoned tunnels, trying to piece together a plan, anything. The captain and the guards approach, swords at hand, and you have no choice but to swing the kitchen saucepan you had been left with. 

You clumsily attack the guards back, somehow managing to strike the captain straight in the face, knocking him out cold. The other three follow, each taken down by the weirdest weapon you’ve ever wielded. A hit to the side of the head, to the back of it, up their chin. And just like that, all four men lay to your feet. 

Their swords and armor clang as they hit the ground, and you allow yourself a moment to breathe, looking at the saucepan with appreciation. 

“Next thing I’m buying is definitely one of these,” you say with a grin, throwing it up in the air and catching it as it falls. “Maybe he’ll let me keep it—Whoa!”

You barely dodge a blade that is aimed at your chest, and a quick glance tells you that the horse with the gold colored eyes is responsible for your almost impalation. 

“What the hell—” you huff as you parry, getting dangerously close to the edge, “—is your problem?”

In an unfortunate set of events, the horse manages to send your weapon flinging down, pointing his own at your neck while you put your arms up in defeat. First the lizard—chameleon, rings Suguru’s voice—, and now the horse. Animals had to have something against you, this was getting ridiculous. 

“Another chance?” you ask the horse with a nervous smile, when a strand of black hair wraps itself around your hand. 

“Hang on!” you hear Suguru yell. 

You look at him, then at the horse with a triumphant grin. You salute him as you are pulled away, soaring through the air like a free bird. Not quite free yet, of course, but close enough to it you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. 

So you’re swinging now, to freedom—and oh shit, also directly at the Curses. 

“Careful!” you hear Suguru yell, like it's not something that should be obvious. Still, you narrowly avoid getting stabbed by their blades, somehow moving your body out of the way.

“Aha!” you shout, delirious with adrenaline. “You should see your stupid—!”

A sharp thud interrupts you just as your brain registers pain. Groggily, you try to make sense of the situation, your hands and legs thrown to your front with the momentum. Your torso, however, was stopped by an exposed beam, stealing all the breath on your lungs. 

That's not the end of it, because why would it be? You climb the aqueduct you landed on, taking note of the situation once more. The universe is clearly against you today, more so than it has been all your life.

“Come on!” you yell at Suguru when the horse starts kicking a beam, managing to form a makeshift bridge between them and Suguru. You grab his hair with all your might when he jumps, only just succeeding by the skin of your teeth. Jogo and Mahito start to run after him and you follow, sliding down the wooden pipeline like butter on warm toast. 

You jump off it when the beams that hold it up start to fail, tucking and rolling when you fall. You help Suguru with his enormous amount of hair—you really should do something about it, this can't be convenient—and start running towards the mine the Curses didn’t come out from. Foolish mistake on your part, but you won’t know this until much later. 

The Curses aren’t the only thing you have to run away from, because a resounding boom alerts you of the dam’s failing. Wood and nails fly away as it breaks, and water swallows everything and everyone on its path, even taking down a massive pillar of rock, which is set to fall right on top of Suguru and you. 

Miraculously, you step into the tunnel just as the pillar touches the ground, even grabbing the stray saucepan at the last moment. Your relief is once again short lived when water starts to fill the tunnel, and that is when the second bad news comes in; it's not actually a tunnel—or rather it was, but has since been blocked away by rocks. 

You frantically start to push the rocks blocking the way, hitting some with the pan when your efforts become clearly futile. Suguru, bless his heart, dives underwater to see if there are any loose rocks there. He comes back up as agitated as you, only pausing from his struggles when you hiss. 

Scarlet blood oozes out of your hand when a particularly sharp rock interrupts your search. You curse—now is not the time to get needlessly injured, and a look at Suguru’s helpless eyes as water begins to reach your shoulders tells you everything you need to know. 

You follow his example by diving too, but the lack of light makes it difficult to even see your hands in front of you, so you come back up, gasping for air. Suguru attempts to do it again, but you pull him back up before he can drown. Maybe you're only delaying the inevitable, but you’ll be damned if you let him die first. 

“There’s no point to it,” you say, as desperate as him. “It’s pitch black down there, I doubt even Satoru would be able to see.”

He stops flailing around, looking around with resignation. You look down at the murky water and sigh. Death by drowning was lame as hell. You always thought you’d go out in a cooler way, not trapped in a tunnel with no escape, where your body would probably never be found.

“...Who’s Satoru?” Suguru asks, his soft voice breaking the silence. 

“Who’s…?” you ask, dazed, before his words register in your mind. “Oh. The guy back at the tavern. That’s his name. Six Eyes is just an alias.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

He twitches. 

“I’m so, so, sorry about all of this,” Suguru apologizes, looking at you with his defeated, purple eyes. “Mother was right. I never should’ve done this.”

“It’s not like I’ve been nice all the way through. Maybe if I hadn’t hurried us into the tavern, none of this would've happened.”

It's clear that Suguru wants to argue against you, but falls silent at the look in your eyes. 

“Y/n,” you say after a beat.

“Y/n?”

“Y/n L/n. Starlight is, believe it or not, also just an alias.”

“Never would have guessed,” Suguru says, attempting to break the atmosphere with a joke. You respond with a weak smile, appreciating his effort. 

“I have magic hair that glows when I sing,” Suguru says immediately after. You do a double take, looking for any signs that he might be messing with you when his eyes widen in realization and he repeats, “I have magic hair that glows when I sing!”

Before you can ask him what he means, he begins to mumble something about a flower and shine, and to your utter surprise, his hair starts to light up. One thing is the way the sun hit his hair, turning threads of it golden. Now though, it is as if it’s completely made of gold, the light it emits being enough to illuminate the tunnel. 

You both inhale a deep breath when the water completely fills up the place, but thanks to Suguru’s magical, golden hair, you manage to find a loose rock. It's a chain reaction; with one rock out of the wall the rest follow, releasing you both into a nearby stream. You gasp for air as you grip the edge of the river, flabbergasted. 

“We are alive!” Suguru celebrates, jumping out of the stream at the first opportunity. 

“His hair glows when he sings,” is your reaction, dumbfounding and reality breaking. 

As you are having your well deserved breakdown, Suguru stands at a rock on the edge of the river, pulling out his hair from the flow of water. “Y/n!” he calls out, but you don’t answer, too busy with ranting at his lizard, who also got carried away by the same stream. 

“His hair glows when he sings,” you repeat to it, watching as he looks at you with a no duh expression. Are you losing your mind?

“Y/n-”

“Why does his hair glow?” you ask the small animal, frantic.

“Y/N!”

“What?” you snap back at Suguru.

“It doesn’t just glow,” he clarifies, a knowing smirk on his face. The chameleon sports an identical smile, a strange expression to see on a small creature. 

“Why is it looking at me like that?” you ask, agitated, totally nonchalant, not even bothered by it.

The sound of crackling wood fills the echo of the woods, accompanied by the song of crickets and the rustle of the leaves. Smoke rises up above, joining its whiter, fluffier cousins, the clouds, in the sky. You’re sitting next to Suguru on a log next to the fire, warming up after your daring escape. 

The stars light up the sky, aided by the bright moon, and with the help of the fire, the darkness of the woods is not so eerie. That is also not the slightest bit hindered by the fact that you’ve got company, and that said company apparently has magic hair, capable of lighting up even the darkest of situations. 

Suguru’s soft hands cradle your own calloused, injured one, wrapping a lock of ebony hair around it until it runs out. You want to question him, maybe look for the logistics of his god-like power, but you chose to stay silent, not wanting to disrupt the fragile peace you had achieved. 

But once a chatterbox, always a chatterbox, so you open your mouth anyway and begin spewing out whatever random crap you can think of. 

“This is totally not suspicious and I'm totally not freaking out right now,” you start. “Just another normal evening, with a normal person, with normal hair that glows. Mundane day.”

Suguru chuckles, losing focus for a moment and wrapping the hair too tightly against your wound, which you reward with a hiss. “Sorry,” he grumbles under his breath. “It’s been a strange day for me too.”

“You’re telling me you don’t usually get chased down by guards, found by old enemies and trapped inside a cave filled with water? Shocker.”

He smiles, looking down at your covered palm. “Just don’t… don’t freak out on me,” he says. 

You nod, already freaking out internally. But you make efforts not to show it, so you guess that must count for something. Suguru closes his eyes and starts reciting what you think he said at the cave earlier, the one with the flower and glow and shine, only this time it is a longer verse, and you watch fascinated as his hair lights up once again. 

It goes from ebony to golden in mere seconds, small strands of light flowing through it as though it is made of pure sun rays. He could tell you his hair was made by the sun itself and you would believe him, too blinded by its light to think otherwise. 

His verse ends moments after the strand in your palm lights up, sending a tingling sensation through it. You think maybe it's your imagination, but you can see it has fully healed by the time Suguru removes his hair from it. 

“Oh thats—” you clear your throat, “—that’s… nice, uh—”

“Don’t freak out?” he asks, sheepish. 

“I’m not!” you say with the biggest, fakest smile you can muster. “Why, are you? No, no, I’m so calm right now. Uh, by the way, since when have you done that? Or your hair—when has your hair done that…” you mumble, straightening up when you remember something from the morning. “Is that why you asked me what I wanted with your hair earlier? Does your mother know about this?”

“She’s the only other who knows, I think,” he answers, bringing a hand to his nape. “I mean, other than the ones that cut it when I was a baby.”

He pulls away a shorter strand at the base of his neck, showing it off to you. It stops past his shoulders, still long but no longer radiant the way his ebony hair is. Instead, it reminds you of ink as dark as a void or a moonless night, still beautiful but—

Beautiful?

“And that’s why I never left. Mother said it was too dangerous to even attempt, that the ruffians who cut it were still out there, somewhere,” Suguru continues, snapping you out of your second freak out. 

“Do you want to go back? After this, I mean.”

“I—Well—” Suguru sighs. “It's complicated.”

“...I get that.”

“Mhm. So,” he says, his eyes crinkling with the teasing smile that begins to appear, “Y/n L/n?”

You shrug. “It’s just my name. None of that ‘Starlight’ that is printed in my wanted posters.”

“How does a thief get stuck with such a… uh…,” Suguru trails off.

“Such a cheesy name?” you ask, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah, you can thank Satoru for that. But then again, I think ‘Six Eyes’ is the shorter end of the stick.”

“You named each other?”

“It wasn’t intentional, believe me,” you say. “We hit the same target once—some rich dude's house—and he started calling me ‘Starlight’ when I refused to give him my name as a way to annoy me. He then proceeded to trip over something and alert the guy, who then called the guards. I guess they heard us bickering or something, because next thing we know, there are wanted posters without likeness and those nicknames. But you know, such is the life of an orphan turned thief.”

“Oh,” Suguru says, something akin to sympathy in his eyes.

“Don’t—Don’t look at me like that,” you say, flustered. Satoru and you would usually gloss over the tragedy of both your stories with humor and jokes, and nobody else had actually cared since—well, never. 

He tilts his head to the side, confused. “Like what?”

“You—well—never mind,” you say, standing up abruptly, shattering whatever tension had been forming between you and him. “I’m going to find more firewood. Be back in a bit.”

“Sure,” he says, and you swear he sounds disappointed. But that only makes your ears heat up more, so you pick up your pace into the woods. 

About halfway through, when you almost collide with a tree, you realize the light of the full moon is not enough to see. So to avoid any more injuries—even if they can be healed by Mr Magic back there—you sit down on an exposed root to wait for your eyes to acclimatize themselves. 

With only the sounds of nature to accompany you, you reflect back on the day you’ve had so far. You stole the royal circlet, got chased in the woods, found a tower, got knocked out and ripped off by the tenant of said tower, got to know the dreams of ruffians and thugs, got chased again, almost died, and discovered Suguru’s magical powers.

All in all, it was a productive day. Of what exactly? Who knows. 

You twirl your hand around when you can see better in the dark of night, flexing and stretching your fingers, forming a fist and then letting go. It doesn’t hurt as much as it did when it was cut open—more accurately, it doesn't hurt at all. 

But old scars and calluses are still present in your skin, so you think that maybe this power only heals recent injuries, or that it focused solely on it for its urgency. Maybe then that power could be used for healing old injuries too, for erasing the marks that blemish your skin, unfitting of a lady. But you haven’t been a proper one in so long, so why start now?

As you trace your palm up and down, following the line of where a would should be, you think about the soft hands that held your own. The smoothness wasn’t a surprise—he never left the tower, for god’s sake—but the gentleness was. 

When was the last time someone held you delicately? 

You ponder on this question for the next few minutes while you scavenge for firewood, not quite finding an answer you like. The ladies at the orphanage never brought corporeal punishment down on any of the kids that resided there, but neither did they sing you lullabies at night. The guards aren't exactly nice when they arrest thieves, and the closest you had to family was Satoru, with whom playful punches and teasing words are plentiful.

But never had you felt that warmth, that feeling of safety, as when you sat on that log, contemplating the fire you had brought to life, and lent your hand to Suguru with no questions asked. 

You sigh, bringing a hand up to your face, so that maybe the coldness of it could help bring the heat of your cheeks down. This doesn’t make any sense—you need to get a grip, and quickly. You met this guy today and you would say goodbye tomorrow or shortly after it. You can’t afford to get attached, not to someone who deserves someone better, someone who is not a thief, someone with softer hands. 

You think of some stupid question on the way back, something to extinguish that tension that you had felt before, finally finding one when you catch a glimpse of the fire. 

“So—hey, princess!” you yell from the neck of the woods. “Is there a chance I am getting powers now? Since you used that magic on me or something—” you stop dead in your tracks, worry tightening your face when his back is to you, his shoulders tense. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Suguru turns, dazed, like he hadn’t noticed you arrived. “Yeah, just… lost in thought,” he is quick to say. 

You stay silent for a moment, giving him time to explain should he want to, but when he doesn’t, you just shrug and drop some of the firewood into the fire, saving some for later. You then plop down and get comfortable in mother nature’s mattress: grass. 

“Night, Suguru,” you say.

“Good night, Y/n,” he answers, distracted.

[southangel]

Hello! I hope you're doing well ⭐🌟!

Can I get some drama and angst?

How would Stan, Cartman, and Kenny react to their kid getting into fights more and more often in school? They get into more and more violent fights, although they hide that pretty well (the bruises, etc.). Eventually they get caught (how long can you fight in school before they get you or someone rats you out?). The last fight was so brutal that it required both parties to get medical attention. So the school decides to call their dad to inform him about the incident and the fact that his kid will be suspended or even expelled if they don't change their behavior. 

Cartman will probably be annoyed that he has to go to his kid's school to sort this out haha. He has better things to do like for example watching TV

Thank you for your time, and keep up the good work!

(I'm sorry if I'm bothering you with the platonic requests :'o)

Stan, Kenny, Cartman Their Kid in Fights

Warnings: mentions of violence, slight gore

Notes: Oh my God I’m genuinely so sorry this took so long. I have so many things I need to finish and i’ve just been procrastinating my requests and it’s a really bad habit. I swear i’ll try being more active, also I promise i’m not annoyed with the platonic requests.

Stan Marsh

I feel that Stan would be surprised, but at the same time kind of expecting it?

Stan has warned you ever since you started getting into fights, trying to influence you to stop before this became a habit.

He would really prefer if you didn’t get into fights so often, especially since he just doesn’t want you to get hurt.

Stan tries to get you to stop, but it’s as if something else is influencing you to keep fighting.

You aren’t this violent anywhere else, he’s genuinely concerned about it.

His concern only grows even more once you start coming home with bruises and scabs, the calls from the nurse don’t make it any better.

Having Stan come to your school, pulling him out of work, isn’t ideal for him at all.

Not happy with everything he’s told, who would be?

Stan most likely scolds you badly, going as far to risk getting suspended or expelled was the last thing he expected from you.

He’ll probably ground you for a long time, but will end up feeling bad and talking to you about it later.

Kenny Mccormick

Kenny isn’t happy to hear about your school habits.

Kenny had a feeling this would happen from the beginning, but thought you would grow out of using violence so strongly.

He didn’t intend to raise you like this. Is it that hard to just stay out of trouble, even for just a single day?

He’s surprised you haven’t gotten suspended yet, detention is the worst you’ve gotten.

His disappointment shows more once he notices your bruises in the most random areas, was it necessary to go that far?

You know that Kenny cares about you, he’s trying to be the best dad he can and get you to take your anger out on other ways.

Definitely the most upset, not angry out of the three.

Kenny is just overall disappointed, he mostly just cares about your safety more than anything else.

Seeing you walk around in bandages that practically show more than your own skin does not make anything better.

Will ground you for this, but he wants you to understand that it’s for your own good and mainly brought this upon yourself.

Eric Cartman

Cartman doesn’t really care much about what happens in your school life.

Get into fights as much as you want, he’s done it before.

Cartman underestimated how many fights you get into though, and how far you really take them.

As long as you or the school aren’t bugging him about it, he doesn’t care. The school is always calling..

You definitely take after him, so it doesn’t surprise Cartman that you often come home bruised up or stuck in huge drama.

Once Cartman gets informed about this big fight you had, it’s obvious that he’ll be pissed off.

What does it have to do with him? Just because you’re his kid, doesn’t mean this fight has anything to do with him.

Then again, the other family just seems so aggravating. You’re still his kid, he’s not going to let you take the fall like that.

Cartman ends up getting the other family to get the harsher punishment, you really don’t know how he does it..

He does feel a little bad seeing you medical care for most of your injuries, so he buys you things that you might like and just leaves it in your room.

Cartman doesn’t do much at home discipline, but probably yells at you for causing this whole conflict in the first place.

[jennas-stuffs]

our little secret: mission impossible

TW: unprotected sex, piv, fingering, hickey-making, nipple-sucking, brief head (fem receiving), fluff, fem reader.

authors note: this is my first time writing smut so i’m definitely open to tips and constructive criticism 😭

i can’t believe i’m saying this but im actually excited about a college class this year. i’ve always loved criminology, i watched basically every tv series there is containing it growing up. so it’s safe to say i didn’t hate the actual subject my last three years, i just hated the professor. ok sure i doze off every now and then but i know my stuff. it’s just that, he doesn’t believe i do. just because he’s some super genius only a year older than me and already teaching people doesn’t mean that he gets to be the only smart one. enough about him because my complaints have finally been heard and the administration finally finally let me switch classes. i can finally be rid of him. i walk into class with my head up high only to find my posture slump down and my smile fade into a frown.

“hello again y/n, you didn’t think you would get rid of me that easily huh?”

what the actual fuck. what the fuck happened.

“i thought i was switching classes.” i say with my jaw shut tight

“i promised the admins that they wouldn’t have to do all that because i would make it work. also it doesn’t look too good for me when one of my students transfers out my class because we were having ‘altercations.’

the sound of every word out of his mouth is almost identical to the sound of nails on a chalkboard. i nod so he can shut up and angrily stomp to a seat. out of spite, i nap my way through his class and to my surprise i wake up to the sound of the bell signaling my next class. i wake up confused, “why didn’t he wake me up? he always does, he loves disturbing my beauty sleep.” i shake it off and pick up the class paperwork i’ll have to make up along with my homework. a week passes by with undisturbed sleep, this is just getting weird. maybe this is what he meant by making it work. if it is, i’ll have to stay i expected more from him. hes so professional and strict, as would anyone expect coming from an ex-fbi agent. i mean this guy literally saw people die in front of him, and didn’t one of the serial killers set him up to be put in jail? what does he think he’s doing letting me sleep in his class? i should confront him. if he wants me in his class, he’s gonna have to earn it. he thought he could have the easy way out with me, oh no no no. i make a plan to set an appointment with him at the end of the day.

his office is neat and organized like i expected. too bad his freakishly tidy desk is gonna get a glimpse of this sleep deprived, angsty, college student.

we sit down and he quickly releases an exhale.

“so i’m assuming this meeting is about our non-existent altercations, because your grades are great, y/n. i haven’t started a feud just yet so what’s going on?”

i stand up rapidly, pushing my seat backwards. i slam my hand on his desk, leaving a mark on his papers, not like i care though.

“good job figuring that one out professor genius. so listen up. if you think just letting me sleep thorough your class is gonna prevent me from complaining to the admins again, think again. you probably think this is the easy way out so you don’t have to actually work it out with me well guess what. that’s extremely unprofessional. and in all honesty i expected more from you. im disappointed, professor reid. i guess your retired days from the fbi really tore you down huh? you don’t have that same spark in you- you”

“i know about your nightmares y/n.”

…

“what?”

“i’m retired from the fbi, correct. from the behavioral analysis unit. i can still profile people you know. from what i’ve noticed, you barley get any sleep and run on coffee. the work you miss in class you use as an excuse to stay up late at night to procrastinate on the sleep you know will wake you up in cold sweat the next morning. the only good sleep you seem to get, is the one in my class. see, i used to mind the fact that you were just sleeping though my lectures but it’s never interfered with your grade. so, i figured since it’s your last year of college and all i would allow my period to be your nap time.”

…

i sit down shamefully and shrink in my seat. i’m so embarrassed. he was just trying to help me and i snapped at him. i feel like an idiot.

“im so sorry. and thank you. thank you so much.”

one more word and i’ll burst out crying. i quickly pick up my bag and head for the door. but my wrist is grabbed by a warm hand.

“wait, y/n?”

i turn around to meet his eyes and pray he doesn’t notice the extra liquid in them.

i clear my throat, “yes professor reid?”

my wrist hasn’t been released yet.

“are you getting help for the- you know.”

“um i used to when i was little and it helped and they went away, but it came back.”

“when?”

“since i started college.”

“can you sit back down please, i just want to talk.”

here he is being so helpful and i’ve been hating him this whole time. when he wasn’t worried for my grades, he was worried for my sleep, and when he isn’t worried for my sleep, he’s worried for my mental health. i feel like such a petty bitch.

my wrist is released and we sit down.

we talk for hours and hours and he tells me stories of when he was an agent. i’ve never laughed so much in my life. we trade in our top worst and best moments in our lives when he realizes…

“wait so, sorry, if this is crossing a line and feel free to not answer but you’ve had boyfriends. but you’ve never had sex?”

“yeahh that’s accurate. it’s just everytime i think about someone seeing me naked i just get tense, like, just the thought of it makes me squirm.”

“so you have body image issues?”

“woww way to be slick with that one profiler, but sure, i guess.”

he laughs. and this laugh was different from all the other ones because it was this laugh i realized i don’t hate his voice anymore. it actually sounds, nice.

“so you’re telling me you’ve tried everything, all your therapists have given you medication and nothing really stuck?”

“i’m a lost cause doc.”

“don’t say that.”

…

“you know you haven’t tried everything.”

“sex makes me barf. no way.”

“hey a pretty girl like you can easily find some college guy to mess around with. don’t be so closed minded y/n.”

“mhm because you’ve had so much experience.”

his face goes pink.

“how did you know?”

“what? no i was kidding. wait. you’ve never had sex either? YOU HYPOCRITE!”

“it’s much easier said than done.”

“hey, a handsome guy like yourself can easily find some girl to mess around with. don’t be so closed minded professor.”

“spencer”

“what?”

“in my office, you can call me spencer”

“okay, spencer, how about we make a deal.”

“what kind of deal?” he says with a raised eyebrow

“the first to have sex is the better person because they are not a hypocrite.”

“that sounds like mission impossible but. ok. fine. deal.”

“REALLY? i was just joking but OKAY DEAL.”

we shake hands and i go back to my dorm and sleep. i slept, better, that night.

we check in with each other everyday to see if the other person won yet.

“has mission impossible been completed professor?”

“nope. what about you y/n?”

“nope.”

that’s not all we did, though. we went out to cafes to talk about life and how us virgins are channeling that sex energy into some other thing. seeing professor reid, i mean spencer, outside of school was weird. all of sudden his eyes were easier to look into. i just couldnt get enough of them. it was like i was drowning in them. don’t get me started on that voice paired with that cute face. i could just snuggle myself up into each word that came out of his mouth. but we had that same check up conversation everyday after class for a whole month until…

“hey y/n?”

“yeah?”

“are you free by the end of the day i wanna talk to you in my office”

“what happened to meeting up at the cafe? wait. did i miss an assignment? i’m so sorry i’ll make it up i swear.”

he smiles and laughs. that beautiful laugh. “no no i just wanna talk in a more private setting. you know how people can eavesdrop in cafes.”

“oh yeah sure i’ll see you then.”

“see you.”

WHY DID I SAY SURE? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME. THAT WHOLE REASON WHY I NEEDED US TO BE IN A CAFE WAS BECAUSE IT WAS PUBLIC. i can’t help myself when i see him. i know it’s wrong because he’s my teacher but he’s just a year older? i’m trying to justify these feelings for him but i can’t. i can’t help it. he’s so nice to me and i don’t deserve it, i just wanna repay him. no,nonononono. i can’t. not in that way. i have a meeting with him and it’s in his office so it’s strictly professional.

…

“hey y/n”

“hi professor”

he raises an eyebrow.

“hi spencerr, ” i say as i roll my eyes.

“ok good so uh.”

he pulls his chair and adjusts mine so that we’re sitting face to face, with no desk in the middle. god, this is gonna be a long meeting for me.

“i think we’re gonna have to switch your class”

“what?! why! we just started getting along don’t ruin it now!”

truthfully, i wouldn’t mind. all this tension i felt would definitely tone down if i didn’t see him so much. but i wanna see him, i love the butterflies he give me. it’s just so annoying i can’t do anything to ‘relieve’ them.

“well we’re just too friendly now, there’s barley any teacher-student boundaries.”

“are you serious. YOU’RE THAT ONE THAT INSISTS I CALL YOU BY YOUR FIRST NAME.”

he smiles “it’s not only that”

“you’ve chewed up my heart by making me switch classes, so, spit it out.”

“i think i like you.”

my heart feels like it’s gonna pop out of my chest, my pussy throbes and my stomach get butterflies. i get this overwhelming feeling of kissing him. but i can’t. we can’t. we shouldn’t. i look to the door and i look back at him. i stand up and walk up to the door, and lock it. i close the blinds and look at him.

“i like you too spencer.”

he grabs me by the waist and pins me to the door. we’re half a centimeter away from each others lips. looking at each others eyes and looking back down at each others lips.

“we shouldn’t.”

he nods, “we shouldn’t”

we slam each others lips against each other, making me let out the dirtiest of moans. he looks down on me and watches me unfold underneath him.

“you’re just a hot mess for me hm?”

i whimper and notice the throbbing feeling in my pussy intensify. it’s a hot steamy make out scene in his pretty little office, and i wonder how badly we can mess it up.

“spencer?” i gasp, barley having enough breath between kisses.

“fuck. say my name again please y/n.”

i moan, “spencer”

“again baby”

i cry out “spencer”

he says in his sweet voice “yes y/n?”

“fuck me.” i say in a whimper

and with those two words he kicks off his shoes and kisses me again. i mirror him taking off his clothes, working is way down, and up. once we’re both completely stripped he takes a second to look me up and down.

“you’re beautiful. all this time you’ve been hiding this?”

he bends his knees in front of me and kisses my breasts. i giggle at the feeling it gives me, similar to a tickle. he is just so sweet it melts me. while making out we move to his desk, where he pushes all his papers to the floor. he lays me down and my skin winces at the coldness of the wood. he’s sucks on my top lip, bottom lip, my jawline, my neck, my collarbone, making his way down to my nipples. i whimper, feeling his tongue go around in circles. i let out a loud moan, almost a scream, and notice the sudden arch my back went into when he starts to suck. he plans to leave every intimate place on my body with a hickey.

“you wanna leave marks on me spencer?”

he nods, making his way to the other nipple.

it’s just the sound of my whining and his sucking in his office, he breaks the silence for a second.

“i wanna show everyone you’re mine.”

then immediately goes back to sucking.

“my neck shows that enough-mm- spencer.”

“spencer… ohh spencer”

“yes y/n”

“feel me.”

that seems to have gotten him to stop sucking and he sticks to fingers up my throbbing pussy. i whimper at the motion.

“so wet, all of this for me?”

“mhm all for you”

he moves his fingers up and down, making me become a moaning, whining, whimpering, ‘hot’, mess again.

“spencer?”

“yes baby”

“i need you inside me.”

he looks down on me and suddenly the innocent light in his eyes disappear, witnessing a dark cloudy haze rolling in, covering his eyes.

“oh yeah?”

too far deep in the storm that is his eyes to speak, i simply nod. plus, that “oh yeah?” left me FOLDED.

he leaves a trail of kisses on my inner thighs, making me squirm. i feel the heat on his breath when he sticks out his tongue and sucks my core. he sits up and holds his dick, moving the the tip up and down against my folds.

“damn it spencer,” sounding like a whining brat, “stick it in already.”

he slams it in, thrusting forcefully, but slowly.

“faster.”

“yes baby”

i moan, grabbing his hair for support while my back arches even more, begging for more.

he speeds up, faster and faster, filling the office with the sound of unholy clicking, and not the type of clicking that comes from a clock. wet clicking.

i keep moaning his name…

“spencer, spencer, spencer?, oh fuck spencer, yes, please, fuck, fuck, spencer, i’m gonna cum im gonna cum, spencer.”

my head jolts back as he rails me through my orgasm.

…

now we’re laying on top of each other on his, now, filthy desk, covered in our cum and sweat. as we catch our breath i say unconsciously out loud,

“oh shit.”

i feel his laugh vibrating from his chest to mine.

“no, spencer, this is bad.”

“why?”

i sit up now realizing the mistake i made. he mirrors my action with a concerned expression.

“isn’t there some kind of rule in the university’s handbook that forbids students from having sexual relations with their teachers? i mean that’s considering that an average professor would be much older than them, usually it would be illegal anyways. do you think they would make some sort of exception? wait, do you think we’d have to tell them? will i get suspended? will you loose your job? oh my god, ok. so what if… what?”

he keeps staring at me rambling with a goofy smile plastered on his face that’s suppressing a laugh.

“whattt?”

“you know no one has to know about this, right?”

“but what if someone finds out?”

“y/n, what time did i have you come meet me in this office?”

“7pm”

“mhm.”

my eyes widen at the realization.

“ok so you made me come over when you knew the office would be closed just so you could confess your feelings to me, in your office, when the building was closed and everyone went back home?”

“yeah.”

“you know you could’ve just invited me over to your place. you didn’t have to make it so complicated.”

“well our situation is complicated, and if we want to continue to explore this ‘situation,’ we’re gonna have to be sneaky.”

i feel my face heating up.

“soo your likee my secret loverrrr”

he cracks a smile.

“i guess this’ll be our little secret.”

…

after we get back in our clothes and walk out together to our cars, he turns to me and says,

“hey y/n, have you completed mission impossible?”

“yup, what about you?”

“yeah, same.”

😱😱😱 THE END 😱😱😱

[confettimafia]

Hey you, yeah you!

Procrastinated something voting related and think you can’t vote? You have a weird circumstance and aren’t sure? You are registered but haven’t checked recently?

This is the post for you! I’m gonna go through a few different options, links, and definitions for people so you can ensure that if you are eligible, that you can vote. (Yes, this repeats some links for convenience.)

I think I am registered but I haven’t checked: You should. There are many legal battles going on right now trying to purge voting rolls and such. Also mistakes happen. CHECK HERE. REGISTER HERE.

I have not registered to vote but I will be eligible otherwise: Many states have a late registration deadline, it might still be possible, sometimes even online! CHECK HERE. REGISTER HERE.

I have not registered to vote, I will be eligible otherwise, and the voter registration deadline has passed: Some states allow voting by affidavit or casting a provisional ballot. This means you take an extra step to sign a thing that documents that you are eligible to vote and after the fact this is verified. More people need to know about this. This covers a lot of weird circumstances. “As of March 2024, Idaho and Minnesota did not provide for provisional voting. New Hampshire provides for provisional balloting only when a voter does not provide the required documentation at the time of registration, and North Dakota provides for provisional balloting only in the event of a court order extending polling hours.” To be safe, if you don’t know and this is your only option, you should go to your polling place and ask if they do this. FIND YOUR POLLING PLACE HERE.

I won’t be home for Election Day but I can vote: Some states have early voting right now. CHECK HERE. Some states are still accepting absentee ballot applications. CHECK HERE.

I will be at college during election day: you can either get absentee ballot or early voting at home OR you can register to vote where you go to college. Generally speaking you spend enough time at both places as a college student it’s allowed to register at either location, you can switch you’re registration to college if you’ve met the standards of living there long enough etc. See above for absentee and early voting, but I will relink the registration link HERE.

I will reemphasize affidavit voting. I personally have used this after relocating within a state and forgetting to change registrations. It was a simple form. If you are 18 or will be on Election Day, a citizen, and haven’t had your voting rights stripped from you via felony or something PLEASE check and make absolutely sure you can’t vote. I guarantee you there are thousands if not millions of people who are not going to vote simply because they do not know they can. It’s confusing and annoying, and people have paid a lot of money to keep it that way. Don’t let them take your vote away.

Yes especially get this out to peeps in swing states BUT REMEMBER. Everything down ballot is also incredibly important with slim margins. Even if you are not in a swing state there is so much else you can do with your vote.

(Some more affidavit voting reasons for New York as an example, though these vary per state:

* “If the voter has been issued an absentee, military or special ballot, but wishes to vote in person during early voting or on election day,

* If the voter is voting for the first time and is unable to provide identification,

* If the voter’s name does not appear in the poll records

* If in a primary election, the voter is listed as being a member of one party but wishes to vote as a member of a different party (Does not apply in November)”)

After all this, you are absolutely positive you can’t vote in this election but could in the future: Register now! Then it will be taken care of for the future until it needs to be updated again. This stuff won’t suddenly stop being important and literally life and death at times. REGISTER HERE.

All of this has been incredibly anxiety inducing, but sharing stuff like this to get the word out to frankly a large young left leaning audience here on tumblr is helpful. It helps to do something actionable. For those of you who can’t vote, encouraging people like this helps in its own way too.