#New Year Quiz Competition

[weoris]

THE CAR’S OUTSIDE ⊹ · YJW 양정원 WORK OF FICTION

000 ┊ PRELUDE ! 𝗦𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖲 𝗖𝖮𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝐒𝖮𝖮𝖭. ‎ 🎀 ໒꒰ྀི˃ ⌑ ˂ഃ ꒱ྀི১ playlist‎

🗯️ ━━━ ever since middle school , you’ve had feelings for your sweet childhood best friend , jungwon . and it didn’t change all throughout your high school life . even when he had suddenly turned against you and created a new ‘ player ’ reputation ?! 📺

⦂ 3𝓀 𝘄𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗰𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍. 🐇 신 𝗟𝖮𝖵𝖤𝖲 𝗬𝖮𝖴!

YOU FROWNED AND GLANCED AT HIM, who was still pouting rubbing the spot you hit on his arm.

You felt a bit of guilt, well—the amount of guilt a seven-year-old could feel.. and you held his hand again slowly and dragged the both of you upstairs to your room. He raised his eyebrows and followed you.

Jungwon whimpered again when you got to your room, with you closing the door immediately. You let go of his hand and he sat down on the bed, sniffling and pouting as little tears fell down his cheeks.

You huffed and came back with a shin chan bandaid, sitting next to him and taking his arm. He raised his eyebrows again in surprise, but let you continue.

Opening up the bandaid, you put it up on the little cut on his arm and patted it gently. You pouted in embarrassment and looked down.

“I’m sorry..” you muttered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.. well- I did, but.. you know..”

he looked away but then back at you, gulping as he nodded. “I’m sorry too..” he said quietly, making you look back up at him and wrap your arms around him.

he did the same.. hugging after every argument was a thing your moms made you do and something you both had grown accustomed too at this point..

you pulled away with an excited smile again.

“So you’ll play dress up with me again?”

He rolled his eyes at your words.. but started nodding slowly. You giggled and jumped, holding his hand and taking him to your closet again.

Jungwon chuckled slightly with a pinkish hue on his soft cheeks as he wiped his tears and followed you, bringing his hand up to you and fixing the slanted tiara on your messy head of hair..

“LOSER!”

“WIMP!”

“CRYBABY!”

were the cheers jungwon heard by the crowd of elementary school kids around him.. as Cho Yoonsik, a boy three times larger than him, pushed him back and laughed at him, making jungwon fall to the ground with tears in his eyes.

reason for ridicule?

because Jungwon made the terrible, elementary school mistake..

of snitching.

He was scared when Yoonsik threatened him for the answers before yesterday’s quiz. and he did give them the answers during the test..

but when you found out, you got angry and told jungwon to immediately tell the teachers.

Yoonsik got in trouble, Jungwon got in trouble.. but Yoonsik has to redo the test tomorrow.. the same time he has a taekwondo competition.

Jungwon was lankier, and was too shy to fight back even if they were both in the same taekwondo class. there was nothing he could do about it..

and Yoonsik found Jungwon’s pink lunch box that his grandmother left for him, a bit amusing.

“Are you a girl? With your pretty, pink lunchbox~?” Yoonsik teased in a funny, mocking voice, making the rest of his friends and the crowd laugh.

Jungwon’s eyes filled with tears as he felt the sharp pain of being ridiculed and embarrassed like this..

“I..” Jungwon stuttered, his pouted lip trembling.

Yoonsik raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “What? Can the sad girl not fight back?” He said as he leaned down and started kicking the boy’s side, making Jungwon whimper and let the tears fall down his cheeks.

“This’ll teach you to not snitch, wimp!” Yoonsik spoke angrily, but with a little smirk on his face. All the other students around laughed and cheered along, some of them were even throwing their snacks on the poor Jungwon. ( out of fear to get on Yoonsik’s good side )

Jungwon wanted to crawl into a little hole and die. His breathing was ragged and shaky from crying, he felt like a mess,

his clean clothes that his grandmother had just bought for him were all dirty.. he did feel like a wimp.

jungwon felt like there was no point in doing the right thing, listening to you and telling the teacher, when this was the outcome.

That was until — he suddenly felt the kicks and pushes stop, and instead heard gasps of the crowd and a yelp from Yoonsik.

Jungwon opened his eyes slowly, covering himself for any more impact just in case and looked to his side, where everyone had shifted.

There he saw Yoonsik.. and

you?!

Maybe his eyes were blurry.. because there was no way that was you.. on Yoonsik’s back..

one arm around his neck to balance, your other arm hitting his head. Your legs wrapped around Yoonsik’s hips while kicking his sides.

“YAH! Who the hell— OW!!” Yoonsik exclaimed, shutting his eyes as you pushed him down to the ground, hitting his hard chest and taking off his denim cap to slap him with it.

Jungwon rubbed his eyes in shock and they went wide..

yeah, that was definitely you..

“Why are you hurting my best friend?!” You yelled, your little-girl screams hurting Yoon’s ears as he winced and shut them quickly with his hands, but had to put them on his chest again to shield away from you.

“I have a pretty pink lunchbox too! You wanna call him a girl again??!” The other kids were gasping and talking amongst themselves, not knowing what to say to not anger Yoonsik later..

The boy winced and shook his head as he gritted his teeth in annoyance.

“N—no! ..eugh..

STOP IT, YOU LITTLE-!”

Yoonsik yelled again, trying to stop you, the other students laughing at Yoon’s urgency to swear and how a little girl, half his size was beating him up.

Jungwon gulped.. he wanted to go up and help. But he didn’t think you were the one who needed help..

Suddenly, he saw you coming up to him, your fingers pinching Yoonsik’s ear and dragging him.

“Apologise to him!” You exclaimed again.. pointing your finger to jungwon.

Yoonsik hissed at the pain and huffed, panting in struggle. You furrowed your eyebrows and pouted, slapping his back again.

“OW! S—sorry! I’m sorry..” Yoonsik spoke finally, his face red from anger and embarrassment.

Jungwon widened his eyes and gulped, nodding hesitantly as he looked at Yoonsik up and down. “Y—yeah..”

he could only mutter back as he quickly got up..

“That’s right! Now— hey!”

and grabbed you by the shoulders, pushing you away from Yoonsik and slightly pulling on his ear.

“Don’t do that again..” Jungwon muttered, pursing his lips and sitting you down on another park bench. “Do what? Save your life?” You said in annoyance with a pout.

Jungwon sighed and rolled his eyes, kneeling down on the rough floor and looking eye-level at you. “Did you get hurt..?” He asked gently, tucking your hair back to check for wounds or scars.

You shook your head with a frustrated look. “You’re the one who’s hurt!” you huffed, making him sigh and take his hand away with a gulp..

“I’m sorry.. just don’t be mad at me..” Jungwon said quietly, looking up at you and pouting.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes with a loud, dramatic huff.

“You are a loser.”

He only furrowed his eyebrows and pouted, not fully grasping that your words were sarcastic.

“C’mon, let’s go to the nurses office, she’ll give us both ice cream!” You exclaimed, taking his hand and running back into the school.

Jungwon’s pout vanished and his eyes sparkled the moment he heard ‘ice cream’.

But deep in his mind, he thought you were really cool out there, defending him like that.

Y/n-ah.. you’re really cool.

JUNGWON SOMETIMES HATED YOUR SWEET TOOTH. How after playing, you ran to the candy store, even after being so sweaty and tired. How you left him alone and sprinted in the direction of the ice cream truck when you heard the familiar tune. How you got so energetic right after, and he had to deal with your sugar-highs.

“You’re really gonna be a sugar-addict.” Jungwon said, rolling his eyes. You ignored his words and opened the wrapper of the lollipop, sitting down next to the sweets he got for you with the 1000 Won note he found in his pocket..

( he actually hadn’t just randomly found it, his mom gave it for him to get something to eat if he got hungry after.. he just lied so you wouldn’t get mad. you looked too happy earlier, you were practically drooling at the selection.. )

“Whatever..” you muttered, climbing up on some ledge near the park, leaning your elbows on your crossed legs and leaning down as you smiled at the other sweets you put down.

He leaned close, putting his arms down on the stony ledge next to your candies and scoffed with a chuckle, shaking his head slightly. nonetheless, a genuine smile crossed his lips when he looked up at how giddy you looked at the sweet and sour taste.

“Is that strawberry?” He muttered, his voice a bit muffled from how he rested his chin on his hand.

You nodded and hummed in response, busy looking elsewhere at the passersby. He took the opportunity and smirked.. before you knew it, his arm had reached up and snatched the lollipop from your mouth, making you gasp.

“Hey!” you whined, trying to take it back but he already plopped it in his mouth, giggling and climbing up on the ledge as well, sitting next to you. Hmph.. an annoyed pout reaching your lips as you huffed.

Jungwon chuckled and put his palms behind him as he leaned back on them, his cap all lopsided. he looked at you, slouching a bit with your elbows on your knees.. he reached his hand out again and took one of the ends of your braids in his fingers, twirling it.

He sighed softly and chuckled. “Don’t be mad at me~” Jungwon cooed, pinching your cheek as he leaned closer again, a hand to your chin as he made you look back.

You raised an eyebrow at his actions, not expecting him to be so touchy.. well—he was always comfortable around you, but why did it.. feel different to you now?

Jungwon smiled again and took the lollipop out of his mouth with a pop sound, placing it between your teeth again, the round shape now stretching your cheek.

Eyes widening again, you furrowed your eyebrows and froze at his action. “Ew.. cooties.” You joked, taking out the lollipop with a chuckle, trying to act casual.

But even jungwon noticed how your face and ears burned up and reddened. He just blamed it on the sunburn..

As silence filled the conversation, the same blush flushed on his face.. as a thought crossed his mind.

Jungwon pushed it back.. trying to not think of it.

“We’re practically kissing..” That was — until, of course, you just had to speak his thoughts out loud.

He hated a lot of things about you. Like how you could read his mind, how calm you seemed about that apparent.. indirect lollipop kissing.

“Yeah.. so?” Jungwon said, clearing his throat and trying to act indifferent. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, drawing little circles on the stony ledge.

Until you looked back at him and hummed softly. “Have you had your first kiss yet?” You asked quietly, making Jungwon’s eyes turn as wide as sauce pans and his face redden like a tomato.

When he looked up, he hated how his gaze went to your lips, coated in strawberry glossiness from the lollipop.

Jungwon cleared his throat and looked down again, trying to act casual. “Y-yeah, of course..” he spoke, pouting slightly and sighing. Almost all of his friends had had their first kisses already.. it was like 13 was the special age for kissing.

You scoffed and raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. It was obvious he was lying..

maybe he was a bit jealous since there were rumours about you already having your first kiss. He always felt the need to remind you that he was just as cool — no, cooler than you.

“Really? With who?” Jungwon froze again.. knowing you caught him. You and him both knew he was completely scared of girls.

He cleared his throat again and furrowed his eyebrows. “M-moka..!” Jungwon blurted out.

“Moka~? The Japanese exchange student who’s dating Haruto?” You cooed, teasing him in a mockingly gentle tone. He grumbled and looked down.

“Just because you already had your first kiss, doesn’t mean you can be cocky..” his words made your expression soften slightly as you paused and looked down. “I haven’t had my first kiss either..”

He raised his eyebrows and looked up at you, blushing slightly again at your words. watching as the wind blew the loose hairs of your braids softly. Awkward silence filled the air, he had no idea what to say to that..

but a bit of relief filled him when you said you hadn’t had your first kiss either.

“Do you ever just wonder if.. maybe people are making such a big deal about it?” You spoke up, turning your head back to him. “Like.. you’ve been waiting too long that you just wanna get it over with?”

Jungwon looked up at you again and gulped, his cheeks puffing up slightly as he nodded. “Mhm..” he could only say.. he felt like he was going to have a word-vomit moment if he spoke up about how he just wanted to have the experience already.

He knew he was still young, but his friends made it such a big deal.. Jungwon couldn’t help but yearn for a feeling like it too.

You tilted your head and hummed, looking at him, how his eyes teared away from you and shifted anywhere else.. his cheeks reddening crazily and his lips pursing again — that habit of his you recognised by now.

“Jungwon.. can I kiss you?”

WHAT?!

Jungwon’s breath stopped, his head shooting up as his mind ran, his heat racing. “Wh—what..?” He whispered, something in his neck stopping his volume from going higher.

You smirked and turned, shifting your position to sit in front of him and now face him. “We’ll be each other’s first kisses.. we’re already comfortable around each other, it won’t be weird.. it’s just to get our first times out of the way!”

The cogs in Jungwon’s brain were still turning, his heart beating like crazy. But he thought about your offer.. it sounded pretty reasonable, right? You were his best friend, his person.. he could talk to you about anything.

And if you seemed so cool about it, shouldn’t he be as well? He should be just as cool as you, anyway..

Jungwon looked up, his sparkly eyes nervous and his lips trembling.

“..do you wanna kiss me?” he asked.

idiot.

not even he knew what was going through his head when he asked that. he blushed in embarrassment..

The corners of your mouth raised a bit, a chuckle leaving your lips. “Do you?” You repeated his question, in a teasing and quiet voice. He gulped and looked down, getting off of leaning against his palms and slouching down, his face closer to yours..

He pursed his lips and looked down, “Maybe..” jungwon whispered, making you raise your eyebrows again. You blushed slightly but smiled, looking down again and gulping.

Your position shifted, now moving to sit facing him. He continued looking down, not wanting to look up and face you.. but before he knew it, he felt a pair of plush lips against his own..

He widened his eyes.. not expecting your lips to feel so soft.. he remembered what he saw in those romantic movies his sister made him watch.. what his friends said, ‘Dude, just relax and like.. hold her waist, girls totally love that!’

Jungwon fluttered his eyes shut, awkwardly not moving his lips, as his hand went to waist to pull you closer. You giggled and pulled away at his awkward, nervous movements.

“You really are a loser~” you said with a giggle, your cheeks still a bit flushed as your fingers went to his round cheeks to pinch and pull on them.

“Hey..” he muttered, whining quietly and closing his eyes shut as you pull on his cheeks.. his hands still on your back and waist gently, holding you closer.

He’d usually be annoyed when you’d tease him like this and pulled on his cheeks. your touch would hurt sometimes — making him swat your hand away.

But when he opened his eyes again.. something about right now..

he couldn’t find himself to care if it hurt, or it was annoying. he just found himself staring a bit too much..

and when you looked back into his eyes.. his own immediately widened, as his face turned completely red.

he looked down immediately and took his hands away from your sides. he gulped and squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment, crossing his arms.

“Tsk.. You’re unbelievable..” you scoffed and teased with a gentle smirk on your lips again, not realising he was caught off guard by something else, something other than your teasing and pulling.

He turned back straight and pouted, trying to calm himself down. His head was still lowered to hide his red face “Sh—shut up..”

why was his heart beating so fast and loud? could you hear it? the last time he felt like this was when he was reading the new volume of wonder woman and he had a massive crush on her.

was the reason for his racing heart.. the same..? he looked at you again, but.. you were gone?

Gasp!

before he could say anything else, your eyes had brightened, you had gotten off the ledge and ran to the ice cream truck — following the lively tune. “ICE CREAM!”

you exclaimed, running to your heaven. Jungwon’s romance-high was put to halt as he rolled his eyes and took all the sweets in a bag. he picked up your cap that had fallen while you were running and quickly ran up to you.

“I already bought you a thousand sweets!”

but he knew his words were deaf on your sugar-addicted ears.

nonetheless, jungwon still felt his heart thump when you took the ice cream excitedly. he couldn’t even find it in him to reach his hand forward and wipe the ice cream off your cheek or pat your head — like he always did, but without that weird stomach—ache feeling..

“Thank you for paying again!” you exclaimed, making him roll his eyes again with a slight chuckle. “Of course~” he sarcastically cooed. you smiled anyway and crossed your arm around his and started skipping back home.

“You’re my best friend—I’ll love you forever! ..m-more than ice cream!” you said in a sing-song tone, making him giggle again as he walked with you.

jungwon pushed back the stomach-ache feeling again when he was with you.

he didn’t know what it was. he liked the feeling, but he didn’t like having it.

then again — he didn’t mind spending his childhood years with it, if it meant having you to protect him, to protect and to eat ice cream with, by his side.

❪ BUNNY TALK ❫ are my jungwon lovers here??? the predebut release of the cars outside is here !! hope you guys enjoy it a lot ^^ have a good day ><

❪ OO1 TAGLIST ❫ OPEN! fill in this google form, send an ask or comment on this post to be added! ����🪽

❪ PERM TAGLIST ❫ @w3bqrl @boowoowho @ahnneyong @kynrki @ixomiyu @yunki4evr @flwoie @bubblytaetae @ja4hyvn @dimplewonie @xiaoderrrr @trsrina @adajoemaya @stepout-09-15 zzegarki @ineedaherosavemeenow @lcv3lies @violetinferno @mijuuv @enhapocketz @hoonics @bubblytaetae @isoobie @dolldhn @jiaant11 @yeomha @mosssi @j-wyoung @artstaeh @spilled-coffee-cup @cowsmicwu @nishislcve @laylasbunbunny @greentulip @enhacolor @miumura @firstclassjaylee @wensurr

[ironinc]

Rivalry's Reward.ᝰ.ᐟ 

Spider-man/Peter Parker x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ While attending your dream college in New York, you and Peter share a competitive dynamic. Constantly trying to outdo each other in class. However, when you both find yourselves locked in detention together, your tension takes a different turn. With the professor temporarily gone, you're left alone, free to explore the attraction that's been building between you two.

⤷ Oneshot, smut very detailed so here’s the warning. Public sex since it is in a classroom. And lowkey enemies to lovers.

⤷ A/N: This is my first story for Spiderman aka Peter Parker so please do bare with me 😫. Btw this space “__” Is just your name. I just don’t like typing Y/N. Also in this story they are attending college so essentially Peter is aged up to 20 years old. Just wanna make that clear.

⤷ Word count: 2,070

⤷ Special song to add spice: Pretty Little Birds by SZA ft Isaiah Rashad

જ⁀➴

The air in the detention room was thick with tension, the kind that made your skin prickle and your breath hitch. You sat at the desk, arms crossed, staring daggers at Peter Parker across the room. He leaned back in his chair, that infuriating smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Of course, he had to look so smug. You’d been at each other’s throats all week, competing for the top spot in every class—calculus, chemistry, even gym. And now, here you were, stuck in detention together, the universe’s idea of a cruel joke.

“Still mad about the pop quiz?” Peter quipped, his voice dripping with faux innocence. You could hear the laughter in his tone, and it only fueled your irritation.

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward, fingers drumming against the desk. “You only won because you cheated,” you shot back, though you knew it wasn’t true. Peter was annoyingly smart, but you’d never give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

“Cheated?” He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “You’re just mad because I outsmarted you. Again.”

The room felt smaller with every passing second, the walls closing in as the heat of your frustration mingled with something else—something you didn’t want to acknowledge. But it was there, simmering beneath the surface, a fire neither of you could ignore. You glared at him, your chest rising and falling with every sharp breath. “Outsmarted? Please. You’re just lucky.”

Peter leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes locking onto yours. There was a spark in them, a challenge that sent a shiver down your spine. “Luck has nothing to do with it. You’re just too stubborn to admit when you’re beat.”

The words hung in the air, charged and electric. Your pulse quickened, and you felt the heat rising in your cheeks. But it wasn’t anger. Not entirely. It was something else, something dangerous. You held his gaze, refusing to look away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch. “I’m not beat,” you said, your voice low, almost a whisper. “Not by a long shot.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall. Peter’s eyes never left yours, and you could see the shift in them, the way the amusement faded, replaced by something darker, more intense. The air between you crackled with unspoken desire, a tension so palpable it felt like it could shatter with a single touch.

Then, slowly, deliberately, Peter stood up. You watched him as he walked towards you, each step deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath catching in your throat as he stopped just inches away. “Prove it,” he said, his voice soft, almost a challenge.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. This was Peter Parker, your rival, the boy who drove you crazy in every sense of the word. And yet, here you were, drawn to him in a way you couldn’t explain. You stood up, meeting his gaze head-on, your chin tilted in defiance. “Fine,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. “But don’t blame me when you lose.”

Peter’s smirk returned, but it was different this timeless teasing, more predatory. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “Oh, I’m not worried about losing,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “I’m more interested in seeing how far you’re willing to go.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt your resolve waver. But then, something inside you snapped, a defiance that refused to back down. You stepped closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, and looked up into his eyes. “Careful, Parker,” you said, your voice a whisper. “You might just get more than you bargained for.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then, his hand was on your waist, pulling you closer, his body flush against yours. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made your head spin and your heart race. “I’m counting on it,” he said, his voice barely audible before his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was fierce, desperate, a clash of wills as you gave as good as you got. His hands were everywhere, in your hair, gripping your waist, pulling you closer. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling slightly, eliciting a low growl from him that sent a shiver down your spine. The desk behind you was cold against your back, but you barely noticed, too consumed by the heat of his body pressed against yours.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dizzy, Peter’s eyes were dark with desire, his breathing ragged. “Still think you can outsmart me?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

You smirked, your confidence returning as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. “This isn’t about smarts, Parker,” you murmured. “This is about who’s in control.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, as he traced a finger along your jawline. “And who’s in control?” he asked, his voice teasing.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. But then, with a slow, deliberate smile, you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear once more. “Let’s find out,” you whispered. 

Your fingers found the hem of your shirt and slowly, teasingly, began to pull it up. His eyes followed your every movement, his breath hitching as you revealed more and more of your skin. The tension between you was electric, and you could feel the heat of his gaze as you finally removed the shirt, leaving you in just your bra. 

His eyes darkened with desire, and you knew you had won this round. But Peter wasn’t one to back down. He stepped closer, his hands finding your waist as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck.

 “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. You shivered, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you tilted your head back, giving him better access. “Maybe I like dangerous,” you whispered, your voice shaking with anticipation. 

His hands moved lower, gripping your hips he pushed you back, pressing your back against the desk. 

His lips found yours again, and this time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate. You could feel the heat of his body as he pressed against you, and you moaned softly into his mouth. 

Peter smirked against your lips, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire. 

You shivered at his words, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. “Don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. 

His hands moved to your waistband, slowly sliding your pants down your legs. You stepped out of them, your heart racing as he stood back to admire you. “God, you’re perfect,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

His hands found your hips again, pulling you close as he kissed you deeply. You could feel the hardness of his body against yours, and you moaned softly into his mouth. 

“Peter,” you whispered, your voice shaking with desire. He pulled away, his eyes dark with need as he looked down at you. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice husky. You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. But then, with a slow, deliberate smile, you reached for his belt. “You,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. 

His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t stop you. Instead, he let you unbuckle his belt, his hands moving to the hem of your panties. “You’re so fucking sexy, __” he murmured, his voice low and rough. 

You shivered at his words, your fingers trembling as you undid the button on his pants. He stepped out of them, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulled you into another kiss. 

The heat of his body against yours was overwhelming, and you moaned softly into his mouth. “Peter," you whispered, your voice shaking with need. 

He pulled away, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you. "Tell me you want this," he said, his voice husky. You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing in your chest. But then, with a slow, deliberate smile, you reached for his cock. "I want you," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. 

Just from the small touch, he let out a small groan. His lips brushed against your ear. "Good," he murmured, his voice low and rough.

 "Because I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name." You shivered at his words, your fingers trembling as you guided him to your entrance.

The anticipation was killing you, every second feeling like an eternity. "Peter," you murmured, your voice barely audible. "Please." His eyes darkened, and with a low growl, he finally pushed inside you, filling you completely. 

You gasped, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, slow at first, then faster, harder. 

The desk creaked beneath you, but neither of you cared. The only thing that mattered was the feel of him, the way he made you feel alive in a way you never had before. "God, you’re so tight," he groaned, his voice rough with need.

“I cannot get enough of you” You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders as he thrust into you, each movement sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Peter," you gasped, your voice shaking with need. 

"Don’t stop." He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "Not a chance," he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "You’re mine now." You shivered at his words, your body trembling with pleasure as he continued to move, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. 

"I’m close." He smirked, his eyes dark with desire. “Not so fast beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Because I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name." You shivered at his words, your body trembling with pleasure as he continued to move, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

 You shivered at his words, your body trembling with pleasure as he continued to move, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. "Peter," you gasped, your voice shaky with need as you clung to him. 

"I’m so close." His lips brushed your ear, his voice a growl. "Let go. I’ve got you." And with that, your entire body tensed, pleasure crashing over you like a wave as you came undone beneath him.

 He groaned, his own release following quickly after, not forgetting to pull out of you. His body shuddering against yours. For a moment, you both froze, breaths ragged, hearts pounding as you came down from the high. His forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the faint tremor in his hands as they gripped your hips.

"Guess I lost this round," you murmured, your voice soft and teasing. Peter chuckled, a low, breathless sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

 "Not a loss," he said, his lips brushing against yours. "Just the start of something new." You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. "So, what now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours. “Now," he said, his voice low and filled with promise, "we see who really has the upper hand tonight… Let me take you downtown for a quick swing.” 

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his comment about 'swinging' around the city. Challenged, you nodded in acceptance. He smirked, already eager to one-up you, as your friendly rivalry kicked into high gear once more. 

After quickly getting dressed, you sat down just in time, as the professor walked back into class. It seemed this game of wits would continue, fueled by the tension that lingered between you two.

Mr. Harrington narrowed his gaze at both of you, his stern tone leaving no room for protest. "You two better have put this 'who's smarter' thing behind you."

You and Peter quickly exchanged a knowing look before sharing a mutual chuckle.

"Yeah, we made up, Mr. Harrington. You don't have to worry."

Mr.Harrington reluctantly let the matter drop, resuming the silent detention session. 

MY SHAYLAAAAAAAA!#%$*# - Guys, how did I do? I hope my stories aren't really repetitive but what can I say?? I just know past me would of been sliding down a wall reading this, and that's the best part of this all.

(Credits: 888hnh)

- Please let me know if you want more ᥫ᭡.

[thomamaru]

Brushed Numbers and Lingering Words

Synopsis: You were always admired by others by your sharp analysis in English. Rin itoshi, on the other hand, was known for his swift math solving skills. So what would happen if you both ended up on the same team for a quizbee? Chaos.

Tags: Rin Itoshi x gn!reader, sarcastic Rin, academic rivals trope, lotssss of teasing from Rin, fluff

The announcement came abruptly during homeroom, and with it, a new responsibility you hadn’t expected.

“The school has chosen two representatives for this year’s quiz bee,” the teacher began, her tone as bright as a fresh cup of coffee. “(Y/N), for humanities, and Rin Itoshi, for mathematics and sciences.”

Your head snapped up. You glanced around, wondering if there’d been some mistake.

Rin Itoshi? Seriously?

Rin sat across the room, perfectly composed as though the teacher had just complimented him on his haircut rather than volunteered him for a major academic event. His teal eyes met yours briefly, his expression unreadable, before he returned to scribbling in his notebook.

When the bell rang, your curiosity got the best of you. You hesitantly approached him.

“So… looks like we’re partners.”

Without so much as glancing up, Rin replied, “Partners? That makes it sound like we’re splitting the work evenly.”

Your brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ll handle the important stuff,” he said, finally looking at you with a faint smirk. “You know, things that don’t involve reciting poetry.”

“Wow,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms. “Do you always have this much charm, or is it just for me?”

“Depends,” he replied casually, closing his notebook with a light thud. “Do you always take everything personally, or is it just because you know I’m right?”

You blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. This was going to be a long partnership.

---

The first training session in the library was about as smooth as you expected—which was to say, not smooth at all.

“You know, you could try to take this seriously,” you said as Rin flipped through a set of sample questions, barely paying attention.

“I am taking it seriously,” he replied, setting the packet down. “I’m just not panicking, unlike you.”

“I’m not panicking,” you snapped, though the furrow in your brow betrayed you.

Rin tilted his head, regarding you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Right. You’re completely calm. That’s why you’re holding that pen like you’re about to duel someone.”

Your grip on the pen immediately loosened, and Rin chuckled under his breath.

The two of you fell into a rhythm of reluctant cooperation. Despite his irritating sarcasm, Rin was sharp, dissecting complex problems with ease. And despite his dismissive attitude, he listened—though he rarely admitted it—whenever you pointed out gaps in his reasoning.

But it was the accidental touches that threw you off.

Your hands brushed when you both reached for the same sheet of paper, and the contact sent an unexpected spark through your chest. A quiet “sorry” escaped his lips, and for a brief moment, you thought you caught a flicker of hesitation in his usually confident eyes.

It was nothing. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

---

As the day of the quiz bee approached, you found yourself pacing outside the classroom, clutching your notes nervously. The responsibility of representing the school suddenly felt much heavier than you’d anticipated.

“Are you planning to wear a hole in the floor?”

Rin’s voice startled you out of your thoughts. He stood a few feet away, hands tucked casually into his pockets.

You opened your mouth to retort but hesitated, glancing at the water bottle in his hand. “What’s that for?”

“For you,” he said, holding it out. “You look like you’re about to faint. Can’t have you passing out before the competition.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, crossing your arms. But when he didn’t move, you reluctantly took the bottle.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice softer. After a moment, you added, “Good luck, by the way.”

Rin’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk. “We don’t need luck,” he said. “We’ve got my brains and… whatever it is you bring to the table.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips.

---

The auditorium buzzed with anticipation, and you felt your nerves coil tighter with every passing minute. As the participants were seated, Rin leaned closer, his teal eyes sharp with amusement.

“You’re shaking,” he observed, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” he interrupted. “Relax. We’ve got this.”

His voice was steady, almost calming, and you found yourself nodding despite the teasing.

When the questions started, everything faded except the two of you. Rin handled math and science questions with a precision that left you momentarily speechless, his solutions flowing so naturally it was almost mesmerizing.

“Focus,” he murmured, nudging you lightly when a question in your area came up.

You answered confidently, earning an approving nod from him. “Not bad,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

The quiz bee continued, the two of you working together seamlessly despite your differences. Each small interaction—a shared glance, a subtle brush of hands—felt like a thread tying you closer together.

---

When the results were announced, you and Rin were just one point shy of first place.

“We were so close!” you said, laughing despite yourself.

Rin’s brows furrowed as he scanned through the score sheet, his analytical mind already dissecting what might have gone wrong. “One point,” he muttered, his tone laced with frustration.

“Hey,” you said, nudging him lightly. “It’s not the end of the world. We still did great.”

He glanced at you, his expression softening. “You’re taking this a lot better than I expected.”

“Maybe because I enjoyed it,” you admitted with a small smile. “Working with you, I mean. It was… fun.”

“Fun,” he repeated, as though the word was foreign to him. But the faint smile tugging at his lips told you he didn’t disagree.

---

The week following the quiz bee, you expected life to return to normal. To your surprise, the school had other plans.

By Monday, posters of the quiz bee results were plastered in the hallways. Your names were printed in bold letters—Rin Itoshi and (Y/N)—Second Place Winners! Teachers spoke of it during class, while students congratulated you both whenever they passed by.

“Looks like we’re the new school celebrities,” you joked to Rin as you walked together toward an assembly.

Rin shrugged, unbothered. “They’ll forget about it in a week.”

“I don’t know,” you teased. “Some people are really excited to know you’re good at more than soccer.”

“Don’t push it,” he said dryly, but there was a faint, amused glint in his eyes.

When you reached the auditorium, a staff member gestured for the two of you to come up onstage. A podium had been set up with a banner behind it that read, "Congratulations, Quiz Bee Participants!" The school wanted to make the most of your achievement.

As you walked up, Rin let out a barely audible sigh. “This is unnecessary,” he muttered.

“It’s just a picture,” you whispered back. “Smile, and we’ll get this over with.”

Once onstage, a student photographer directed you both to stand beside the podium. You positioned yourself on one side, with Rin on the other.

“Ready?” the photographer called out, adjusting the camera.

You turned toward the camera but hesitated when you caught a glimpse of Rin in the corner of your eye. Unlike his usual aloof self, he actually looked… relaxed. He even had a faint smile on his face, which somehow made you look longer than you intended.

That’s when Rin noticed.

“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, redirecting your gaze. But the teasing smirk creeping onto his lips made it clear he didn’t believe you.

As the photographer called for final adjustments, Rin suddenly reached out and brushed something near your temple.

“Your hair,” he said simply, fixing a stray strand with surprising gentleness.

The soft touch sent a jolt through you. Your breath hitched, and before you could react, Rin looked back toward the camera.

The photographer clicked the shutter just in time to capture the aftermath—Rin, standing tall with a small but confident smile, and you, completely flustered as you looked up at him instead of the lens.

“Great shot!” the photographer exclaimed, unaware of the flurry of emotions in your chest.

You climbed down the stage after Rin, trying to gather your thoughts. “What was that about?” you asked, slightly out of breath.

“What was what about?” he replied nonchalantly, glancing at you with feigned innocence.

“The hair thing!” you blurted, your cheeks warming.

“Oh, that.” He shrugged. “It was bothering me.”

“You could’ve just said something,” you muttered, still flustered.

“Would you have fixed it yourself if I did?” he countered, smirking. When you stayed quiet, he added, “Didn’t think so.”

Despite his usual teasing, there was a subtle warmth in his voice. You couldn’t tell if he was doing this on purpose or if Rin Itoshi really was this obliviously charming.

---

Later that day, the photo from the assembly was pinned on the school’s bulletin board. It didn’t take long for students to notice the details.

“Is (Y/N) looking at Rin in this picture?” one whispered.

“And Rin’s smiling?! I didn’t even know he could smile,” another chimed in.

You buried your face in your hands as you overheard the gossip. Rin, on the other hand, seemed unbothered as usual.

“What’s the big deal?” you mumbled when you caught up to him after class.

He tilted his head, smirking. “You’re overthinking again.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

“Relax,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “It’s just a picture. Besides…” He paused, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “You didn’t look bad.”

Your heart stuttered at the unexpected compliment, but before you could say anything, he added:

“Just try not to get a big head over it.”

And with that, Rin walked away, leaving you to wrestle with the mix of emotions he always seemed to stir.

---

Days passed, but the memory of the quiz bee lingered. In class, Rin couldn’t help but steal glances at you, his mind replaying moments he thought he’d brushed off.

You were just his partner for a school event.

That’s all it was.

And yet, when your laugh echoed across the hallway, or your hand brushed his while passing a note, Rin found his thoughts straying in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

And though he would never admit it, the memory of your shared moments during the quiz bee was one he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

Note: this story might be based on my own experience,,, :P

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

KINDRED — 40 (finale)

It’s your final year of highschool, and your only goal is to graduate top of your cohort, as usual. Except as student council president, your advisor can’t seem to leave you alone. What happens when you take Decelis Academy’s top student, their star athlete and put them in front of a camera?

written (2.7k words)

❥･• episode 40 — her entire being is lovable

The week after Jungwon’s competition, the two of you slip back into the usual programming of studying together after school, despite the documentary having ceased filming. It's a curious irony, isn't it? Now liberated from the suffocating grip of your mother's expectations, free to pursue your own desires, yet you find yourself still tethered to your books, for she was right when she says you can’t go anywhere without decent grades. 

You also don’t know what else to do in school besides studying. The library, with its quiet embrace, has become your refuge, a familiar haven and a place where you seek clarity amidst the chaotic excuse you call your current predicament. With your resignation as student body president, all that remains is the race against time until your college entrance exams.

"Y/N, sorry for being late!" Jungwon's voice breaks through the quiet murmur of the library as he settles beside you in your customary corner. You offer him a shy smile, basking in the familiar scent of his cologne that wraps around you like a comforting blanket.

"I finished a whole chapter waiting for you," you tease gently, knowing full well that he'll feel a twinge of guilt for keeping you waiting, only for you to feel bad for making him feel bad. And now you’re both feeling guilty and he’s demanding a kiss from you to make up for it.

"I never took you for the clingy type in a relationship, Yang Jungwon," you chuckle softly, playfully pushing a finger against his forehead to halt any public displays of affection in the holy vicinity of a public library.

"Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d be rejecting my attempts at showering you with love when we’re a whole fortnight into dating," he pouts, his bag dropping to the seat beside you with a sullen thud. If one other thing did change aside from your relationship status, it would be the fact that Jungwon no longer sits across from you, but beside you. He insists it’s for practicality's sake, which to a certain extent you agree.

Truth be told, Jungwon just finds it distracting to be directly across from you, where he was in full capacity to be distracted by the beautiful features of your face. Not that the new arrangement helped anyway when he is still constantly reaching for your hand to hold, a silent plea for your touch that you gladly reciprocate.

“Why did the teacher hold you back anyway?”

"Couldn't believe my math grades improved so much; he thought I cheated on the recent quiz. Never thought I was doing so badly to make him doubt me that much."

"I mean… you were pretty horrendous," you quip with a grin, nudging him playfully. "Emphasis on ‘were’!" you add, teasingly, knowing he won't take it too seriously. He proves you right as he scoffs at your candid assessment of his past academic struggles. After all, deep down, you both know there's some truth to it...

"We have that final confessional with Producer Choi later today, right?"

"Yeah, can’t believe two months just flew by like that. Feels like just yesterday we were agreeing to only pretend to like each other." You snicker softly, sensing the irony in the situation now that you and Jungwon are in an official (not fake) relationship.

The irony is not lost on Jungwon as you catch his silent smile, knowing he, too, is lost in the memories of that pivotal moment, where pretence gave way to something real and profound.

"What's to say I'm not pretending right now?" Jungwon raises an eyebrow, eliciting an exaggerated gasp from you.

"Are you suggesting you still hate me?" you exclaim, feigning offence and playfully inching away from him on your chair. Jungwon's reaction is immediate, grabbing onto you as he pleads for you to stay, insisting he was only joking.

"So, you don’t hate me?" you inquire with mock seriousness.

"No, I would never!" He envelops you in a sideways hug, leaving you in a precarious position where, without his support, you'd probably topple off the chair, earning judgmental stares from every library patron within a half-mile radius.

With his arm around you, you gaze up at the finely sculpted features of his face, marvelling at how you ever found this man annoying in the first place. As Jungwon's fingers toy with the strands of thread hanging off your uniform blazer, a comfortable silence settles between you. 

“When’s your confessional?” Jungwon's question breaks the serene silence, prompting you to glance at the clock and realise the time constraints you're under.

"I'll have to leave soon if I don’t want to be late. Your confessional is right after mine, yeah?" you confirm, already mentally preparing to make your move.

"Yep, I’ll meet you at the gate after, and we could go for some snacks!" Jungwon suggests with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Is this another one of your tricks to feed me into a coma so we don’t have to study?" you quip, raising an eyebrow in playful scepticism.

Jungwon feigns innocence, his grin widening. "Who, me? Never!" he replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm. You chuckle, knowing full well his penchant for indulging in snacks whenever the opportunity arises. But as you gather your things and prepare to leave, you can't help but look forward to the prospect of spending some more time with Jungwon, even if it means indulging in a few too many treats along the way.

You arrive promptly at the confessional venue, positioned strategically in the field right by the entrance of the school so the logo can be seen clearly in the background.  This meant people, a lot of them, stopping nearby to watch and observe the commotion as it's not every day you get to see a whole camera crew in the front yard of your school.

Spotting Producer Choi among the crew members, you make your way over and exchange greetings. "Y/N! It’s been a while, hasn't it?" she exclaims with a warm smile.

"It has," you reply, returning her smile as you exchange pleasantries with the familiar faces of the cameramen stationed around you.

"It felt weird not seeing you around after having seen you almost every day for the last 2 months. Strangely enough, I kind of missed it," you admit, though you sense a hint of scepticism in Producer Choi’s eyes, as she knows damn well you were the most excited for this documentary to end. 

With a gesture from Producer Choi, you settle into the stool in front of the cameras, and the familiarity of the setting washes over you. It's strange how quickly this space has become a second home over the past few months, filled with the laughter of the crew members who have become like family. With that thought in mind, you mentally ready yourself to share your thoughts and reflections on the journey you've embarked on.

"First of all, thank you, Y/N, for agreeing to be a part of this documentary," Producer Choi begins as the camera lights turn red. You nod in response, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement coursing through you.

"Let’s start by having you share with the viewers how you felt about this journey," Producer Choi prompts, her voice gentle yet probing.

"Well, it’s not easy, that’s for sure," you begin, your words flowing more easily now that you've found your rhythm. "It was an experience that urged me to step out of my comfort zone and explore beyond a routine that I was already used to. It was difficult, no doubt, but the friendships that I’ve made along the way made this whole journey worthwhile. If I were to go back in time, I would do it again."

Producer Choi nods encouragingly, her eyes reflecting understanding and empathy. "If that’s so, tell us the most important thing you gained from this documentary."

"This experience was precious to me in many other ways than one," you continue, your voice growing more animated as you recall the memories. "But if I were to point out the most important thing I gained out of this documentary, it would be myself. It’s a little cringy, I know. It still amazes me how much I managed to change in this short period of time. But you know what they say, the best discovery starts within you, and you best believe I discovered." 

The camera captures the sincerity in your eyes, the raw emotion shining through as you speak from the heart; a genuine reflection of your growth and transformation throughout the journey.

"Throughout the airing of ‘Kindred,’ the show has gained immense popularity among both domestic and global viewers, why do you think so?" Producer Choi asks, her tone shifting to a more analytical one.

"Honestly, the documentary was able to do well all thanks to Jungwon," you respond with a chuckle, thinking of your ever-charismatic boyfriend. "Without Jungwon, I genuinely think you guys would have produced the most yawn-bearing documentary to date. I acknowledge my lack of entertainment wits. There is also the whole strange pairing between Jungwon and I, even I admit that I’d be interested to find out how our very unique dynamics would work with each other."

The crew members share a knowing smile, having witnessed firsthand the magnetic chemistry between you and Jungwon that has captivated audiences around the world. It's a testament to the power of authenticity and genuine connection, something that can't be manufactured or scripted.

"Speaking about Jungwon, how has your relationship with him changed throughout the show?" Producer Choi inquires, her curiosity piqued.

"Jungwon is really special to me," you admit, a soft smile gracing your lips as you think of him. "I’m glad I got to properly know him through this experience. I’ll forever be grateful to ‘Kindred’ for bringing him into my life."

"Seems like there's something more to it, but I won't pry! But now that you’re graduating soon, what’s next?" Producer Choi prompts, her tone shifting to one of anticipation.

"Hmm… I’m not sure," you confess, feeling a pang of uncertainty creep in. "Ironic since you’d expect the girl with perfect grades to know what she wants to do. But I’m still working on that. Although, tutoring Jungwon made me realise how much I actually love teaching. May or may not consider pursuing it in the future, but we’ll see. I’m not in a rush anyway."

"Lastly, is there anything you want to say to the viewers of ‘Kindred’?" 

"To all the viewers of Kindred, thank you for all the support and attention you gave us!" you exclaim, genuine gratitude shining in your eyes. "I’m glad you found some sort of joy going through this journey with Jungwon and I. It’s an experience I’ll hold close to my heart forever."

As the final words leave your lips, you can't help but feel a sense of closure wash over you. This chapter of your life, filled with ups and downs, laughter and tears, is coming to an end. But as you look back on the memories you've created and the relationships you've forged, you know that the impact of this experience will stay with you for a lifetime.

"By the way, will Jungwon be doing his interview here too?" you ask, curiosity tugging at you.

"Why of course," Producer Choi replies with a smile.

"Can I watch?" you inquire, eager to see Jungwon in the hot seat for a change.

"You don’t see Jungwon here now, do you? We got to play it fair, Y/N," she says with a wink as she scurries you away from the film site, leaving you with a sense of anticipation for Jungwon’s answers now that you know the questions that were being asked.

"What was your answer to the question?" you grab onto his arms, shaking it relentlessly trying to get him to fold, even equipping your signature puppy eyes. Jungwon, however, continues to chew on his food that both of you bought off a random street cart, and is now seated at the very same bench where you shared your first kiss.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me,” you consider revealing your answers but decide against it when you think back to your responses and visibly cringe.

Jungwon, ever the enigmatic one, simply smirks, his lips curling into a playful grin. His eyes sparkle with mischief as he toys with you, taking another casual bite of his street food as if your inquiry were nothing more than a fleeting thought.

You roll your eyes, knowing damn well the game he's playing. This teasing banter, a familiar exchange between the two of you, only adds to the playful dynamic of your relationship. But deep down, you can't help but wonder what his answer might have been.

“I guess we’ll only know when they broadcast it,” you shrug, resigning to the mystery as you lean your head on his shoulders. The warmth of his presence beside you, and the gentle rhythm of his breathing, all serve as a comforting anchor amidst the bustling street around you.

As Jungwon reaches over to play with the strands of your hair, a comfortable silence washes over you. The sound of distant chatter and the occasional honking of car horns fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble of tranquillity.

With a playful smile, you reach up to gently swat at Jungwon's hand, feigning annoyance. "Stop messing with my hair," you tease, though secretly enjoying the attention. Jungwon chuckles, his warm breath brushing against your cheek as he leans in closer.

"But it's so fun," he counters, his voice a mere whisper. You roll your eyes playfully, unable to contain your grin. "You're lucky I like you," you retort, leaning into his touch despite your mock protest.

Jungwon's laughter fills the air, a melodious sound that resonates deep within you. His genuine joy is contagious, spreading warmth and happiness with every moment you share.

"I know," Jungwon replies with a smirk, tightening his hold around you. "And I'm lucky to have you." You smile to yourself, the warmth of Jungwon's words enveloping you like a soft embrace. His ability to express his feelings so openly still catches you off guard at times, leaving you feeling both exhilarated and a little overwhelmed.

"You know, you have a way with words," you tease, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Jungwon's smirk widens into a full-blown grin, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Only when I'm talking to you," he replies, his voice filled with sincerity.

The sincerity in his words touches something deep within you, stirring a gentle flutter of emotions in your chest. Despite any doubts or uncertainties that may linger, there's a sense of reassurance in knowing that Jungwon is by your side, ready to face whatever challenges come your way.

You never fully comprehended why you felt so connected to Jungwon in the first place. Sure, you could say that anybody in your position—forced to film a documentary 24/7 with a decent-looking boy (though you’d rather die than admit this back then)—you were bound to catch feelings.

To you, Jungwon is more than just a forced proximity crush; he's an anomaly in your otherwise stoic and academic-focused life. An anomaly that got you so frustrated trying to figure out why he’s such a constant pain in your ass. An anomaly that introduced you to the world outside of the one your mother delicately crafted for you—holding you to unrealistic expectations that she knew damn well you could never meet no matter how much you tried.

He helped you understand that this life is a journey that you shape. That no matter what, mistakes are inevitable. You can give your everything and still somehow manage to fuck things up along the way. Yet, the beauty lies in the way you get to decide how you’re going to fuck up. And there’s no one you’d rather navigate these missteps with than Jungwon.

And while many would assume that a student council president with stellar grades and a Taekwondo athlete who can't study to save his life would never go well together, these assumptions are proven to be false as you realise the many similarities you share with Jungwon. Like how either of you will do anything for the people you care about and for the things you wish to achieve. You could say the two of you are Kindred.

As you rest against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, you can't help but marvel at the depth of your connection, forged through peculiar circumstances. 

With him, it doesn’t matter who you want or need to be.

With him, life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile.

prev | masterlist | next

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

authors note: aaaaand that marks the end of kindred!! i have so much i want to say but i'll save it for when the epilogue comes out! in short, thank you so much to everyone who stuck till the end despite my super irregular posting schedule... 🫣 until next time!

perm taglist. @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons @yuviqik @junsflow @blurryriki @hueningcry @fakeuwus @enhaslxt

taglist! @uuzhanggggggg @aloloveswonie @jayhoonvroom @missingemobeomgyu @jiawji @ocyeanicc @s7noo @asterizee @nwjws @noascats @yunwonie @saturnmooonxx @enhaz1 @jiaant11 @clairecottenheart @i2lain @miumiuoi @zhounauts @neocockthotology @nanuer @yenqa @ahnneyong @chanhee-hee @yanqiiuver @yujmelon @keiisu @jaeyunniesimp @jiamini @jihanniee @lilriswife4life @i-yeseo @plutoslostagain @haqzm @ilovejungwonandhaechan

[aziraphales-library]

Hello librarian squad!

First of all I would like to thank you for all the work you're doing and providing the fandom with reading material, you're doing god's work<3

I was wondering if you, by chance knew some good gomens university AU fics with enemies to lovers trope? Preferably a longer one

Thank you in advance!

Here are all the enemies/rivals to lovers university fics I could find...

More of a Comment than a Question by CemeteryAngel725 (W)

Dr. Aziraphale Fell and Dr. Anthony Crowley are both architectural historians in the same department. You would think they would have a lot in common, but it's the exact opposite - from the day they met, Crowley has done everything in his power to annoy Aziraphale. But now they're being forced to share a hotel room at an academic conference, and Aziraphale is worried. Will they survive the weekend?

A Halo Effect by Tv_Saved_The_Teenage_Girl (T)

Living with a roommate so different from you can start to get on your nerves, but when Aziraphale takes care of Crowley one drunken night, things start to change between them. What will happen when Aziraphale finds out Crowley is in an abusive relationship?

Play The Game by ffonippop (M)

Aziraphale was a university student on his last grueling year of pursuing a joint-honors Bachelors degree in Biology and Theology. His favorite day of the week was Sunday, because on Sunday, he could forget about the lab and leave behind the library to gather with his friends and play a competitive game of trivia— Quiz Bowl. He liked Quiz Bowl because it was a brain game, it was engaging, and it promoted teamwork. But most of all, he liked Quiz Bowl because he was the best at it. Until Crowley, the arrogant bastard with a swagger in his saunter, started showing up.

The Shared Desk Dilemma by MissUnderstoodLyrics (E)

In the hallowed halls of Eden University, professors Aziraphale Eastgate and Anthony Crowley share a desk but have nothing else in common—except for their knack for outwitting each other with escalating pranks that have the entire faculty taking sides. When the university president, in a desperate bid to restore peace, mandates a team-building retreat, the adversaries find themselves reluctantly sharing a room, and sparks fly. Crowley can't stand the pompous, irksome Dr. Eastgate, and the feeling appears to be mutual, yet they can't seem to keep their hands off each other.

A Tricky Situation (Entirely of his own making) by sixbynine (E)

"Crowley stood up and went to leave, he turned back just as he opened the door and took a deep breath. “You know I was quite excited to come here and work with you. I enjoyed reading your work. I disagree with a lot of it, but your writing style is lovely and every so often you’d let that privileged rich white boy mask drop and it was fantastic. I was hoping to meet that Professor Fell, but I’m beginning to think maybe he doesn’t exist and I’m going to be stuck with a rude stuck up arsehole for the next five years.” He slammed the door behind him before Aziraphale could respond. Aziraphale gaped, open mouthed, at the shut door." -- Aziraphale is teaching at Kings College London. He's been teaching at King College London for a long time now thank you very much and he does not take kindly to new Professors being sprung on him suddenly. Especially when this one has quite publically made his opinon of Aziraphale's work known. Luckily Aziraphale has an understanding penpal...

- Mod D

[mjwhisperer]

𝚅𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕

2007

Los Angeles/Japan

Word Count: 9.1k

Tags: Fem!Reader, Mature era MJ, Late Night Conversation, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, Intimacy, Married Couple, Phone Sex, Large pp

It was late, the kind of night that settled deep in your bones, the air cool and still in early March. The house was blanketed in silence, the only sounds coming from the low hum of the air conditioning circulating through the vents, and the faint chime of your laptop powering up as you placed it on the bed. Your fingers were slightly shaky from exhaustion as you slipped out of your towel and into a smooth, purple satin nightgown, its fabric cool against your skin. You’d spent the whole day chasing after your two daughters—playing games, watching movies, even making a trip down to the local library. You remembered their excited squeals as they picked out books, eager for their father to quiz them later, a little competition they relished for the promise of toys or treats.

Michael had been gone for a few weeks now, whisked off to Japan for work. The house felt emptier without him, though he’d thought ahead, leaving gifts behind to ease the time apart. A brand-new laptop, gleaming on the bed, and a desktop in your office, all set up by his team. The laptop was for those precious nightly calls, a thread connecting you across the distance. He used it to check in on the girls, his voice filtering through the speakers as they giggled and updated him on their day. But tonight was for just the two of you.

Every other night, you’d Skype him before bed. Sometimes he’d stay on the line as you drifted off, the soft glow of his screen the last thing you’d see before sleep took over, and in the morning, you’d wake to a message, a “good morning” from halfway across the world.

You reached up, tugging the towel loose from your hair, letting the damp strands cascade down your back. You ran a hand through them absentmindedly, hoping they’d dry before you fell asleep. In the bathroom, you hung the towel on the railing, the cool tile beneath your feet grounding you. Suddenly, the sharp, familiar ring of an incoming call echoed from the bedroom. Heart racing slightly, you darted out of the bathroom, a smile already tugging at your lips as you tossed yourself onto the bed. Quickly adjusting yourself in front of the camera, you moved the mouse and clicked the green button.

The screen flickered to life, and there he was—Michael, your husband, looking effortlessly handsome, just as he always did. The soft glow of the hotel suite’s ambient lighting bathed his tanned skin, making it gleam in a way that made your breath catch. His white button-up was carelessly half undone, offering a teasing glimpse of his broad, familiar chest, muscles shifting slightly beneath the fabric. His eyes locked onto yours through the screen, and in that instant, the world outside the room felt distant. The unspoken intimacy between you pulled taut, like a thread drawn through space, bridging the miles that separated you.

“Hi, beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a rich, low rumble that had always felt like a caress against your skin. Though softened by the miles between you, it still held that warmth, that velvety tone that made your heart ache with want.

You smiled softly, the weight of the day easing a little. “Hi, baby. I miss you,” you breathed, pulling the laptop closer, feeling its warmth on your legs as you nestled back against the pillows—his pillows, on his side of the bed. The scent of him lingered faintly, a subtle reminder of his presence even though he was half a world away.

He cleared his throat, a familiar gesture, the kind of small movement you’d cataloged over the years. “How was your day? How are my girls?” His voice was tinged with that quiet yearning, and though it was a simple question, it carried the weight of his absence.

You yawned, exhaustion creeping up on you but still softened by the sound of his voice. “It was good. The girls are great. We had some much-needed mother-daughter time,” you replied, a hint of a smile playing on your lips as you thought back on the day.

Michael chuckled softly, his laugh a low, rolling sound that always sent a shiver through you. He shrugged the shirt off entirely, revealing the sculpted lines of his body beneath, half-dressed but every bit the man who always held your gaze. “That’s good. What did you all do? I’d like to hear about it,” he said, standing and stepping out of view, leaving only the rumpled pillows in sight.

“Well,” you began, watching the empty space, “This morning, they begged me to make French toast. I warned them it wouldn’t be as good as yours, but they insisted. So, I gave in, and honestly, it was a disaster.”

From across the room, Michael’s laugh echoed back, warm and teasing. “I had a feeling,” he said, his voice drifting to you like a memory, one of those quiet moments shared in the kitchen, his hands guiding yours.

You laughed too, the memory making you feel closer. “After that, they helped me clean up, and we blasted some of your music. They wanted to do it your way.”

You absently twisted the hem of your nightgown, the silky fabric soft between your fingertips, a calming motion. Michael hummed in response, that deep, knowing sound, and you could picture his expression even without seeing his face.

He returned to the camera, picking up the laptop with a familiar ease. “You’re coming with me,” he said, his tone playful yet commanding in a way that always made you feel warm inside. You watched as he carried the laptop with him, the camera shaking slightly as he walked into the bathroom. He set it down on the counter, the lighting now bright, reflecting off the mirror as he turned toward it.

You gazed at him through the screen, watching as he began wiping the makeup from his face. There was something vulnerable, yet undeniably captivating about seeing him like this—just him, bare, the years of his beauty laid plain before you. The faint traces of pigment on his skin from his vitiligo, a contrast of dark and light that you had memorized, faded but still so distinctly him. He wiped away the eyeliner, his eyes catching yours in the mirror.

“What else did my beautiful girls get up to?” he asked, his voice softer now, as though you two were the only ones in the world.

You took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself as your mind wandered to other thoughts. “We played a few board games, some chess and checkers, before watching a movie together. Then, we headed down to the library—of course, they want you to quiz them when you get back. They saw a doll they really liked, and you know what that means.”

Michael chuckled, the sound like a soft rumble through the screen. “Which books did they pick out?”

You grinned, a knowing look in your eyes. “Take a guess.”

He paused, his gaze lowering toward the camera, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Don’t tell me…” he drawled.

You tilted your head, teasingly. “Harry Potter, of course. They’re little nerds, just like their daddy.”

Michael rolled his eyes dramatically, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They get it from their mother, and you know it. Don’t even start with me,” he teased as he wiped the last bit of eyeliner away.

Watching him like this—just Michael, stripped of the layers the world usually saw, his skin soft and bare beneath the hotel lighting—filled you with an aching warmth. The familiarity of him was both comforting and magnetic, the way his face softened without the lines of makeup, the way his presence filled the space even through the distance. For a moment, it felt as though there were no miles between you, just the two of you connected in the intimacy of the night, the quiet hum of his hotel suite and the steady rhythm of your breathing the only sounds.

He broke the silence, his voice low and tender. “What else?” he asked, leaning forward on the counter, his gaze locked on yours through the screen. His eyes, those deep, expressive eyes, pulled you in further, making the distance seem even smaller. “I want to hear everything,” he murmured, his tone laced with gentle insistence, the kind that always made you feel like you were the only person in the world he wanted to listen to.

A soft smile tugged at your lips, the gentleness of his voice wrapping around you like a blanket. “After we got home, we had dinner. The girls were quiet for the rest of the night, didn’t really bother me, except to say goodnight. So, I took a long, hot bubble bath, washed my hair, did a little cleaning… oh, and I rearranged your closet,” you said, your voice trailing off at the end as your fingers absently traced the edge of the laptop, your mind replaying the small moments of the evening.

Michael nodded, his eyes lingering on you, his gaze sharp but soft at the same time, drinking you in. “New nightgown?” he asked, his voice husky as his eyes trailed over the satin draping your body.

You nodded, the faintest flush creeping into your cheeks. “Yeah, got it the other day. Along with a few others—champagne, black, royal blue, pink, and of course… red,” you teased softly, knowing that last color always sparked something in him. “Your favorite.”

His lips parted slightly as his tongue swept across them, the small gesture making your stomach tighten. “It looks beautiful on you,” he said, voice thickening just a touch. “Never realized purple was your color.”

You shrugged, a playful glint in your eye. “Neither did I. Something new, I guess.”

For a moment, his eyes didn’t leave yours, a heat rising between the two of you as he stared at you with that familiar intensity, like he could reach through the screen and touch you. His gaze was heavy, full of something deeper, something simmering just beneath the surface.

“How are you?” you asked softly, breaking the tension just enough, your voice tender and full of care.

He cleared his throat, shifting slightly under your gaze. “I’m doing well… tired, but nothing I’m not used to,” he said, the exhaustion lining his voice in a way that tugged at your heart.

You sighed, a hint of worry slipping into your voice. “You shouldn’t have to be used to that, baby. Why didn’t you get some rest?”

His lips curved into a small, almost bashful smile. “Wanted to call my pretty girl before she went off to sleep. You know I can’t go without hearing your voice,” he said, straightening up, the affection in his voice unmistakable. There was something about the way he said it, the way his words held you, that made your heart race a little faster.

Your eyes, almost without thinking, traced the lines of his body. He was still half-dressed, the lower half of him clad in black slacks with delicate golden elephants embroidered all over them, an eccentric touch that was so distinctly Michael. But your gaze lingered on more than just the intricate details of his pants—your eyes caught on the subtle but unmistakable outline of his arousal pressing against the fabric, and heat flushed through your body. God, he could never stay down.

Michael noticed your wandering gaze, his eyebrow arching in that teasing, knowing way of his. “What are you looking at, doll?” he asked, reaching for a comb and dragging it through his silky, straightened hair with the slow, precise movements that were second nature to him.

You shook your head quickly, feeling the flush rise in your cheeks. “Nothing, baby. Just you, that’s all,” you lied, your voice a little breathless, trying to pull your mind away from the growing tension in your body.

But Michael wasn’t fooled. His eyes bore into you, and you could feel his attention sharpening, feel him leaning into the moment even from across the screen. “Tell me,” he insisted, his voice low and commanding, a tone you knew well—one that made you melt, one you could never quite resist.

You shook your head again, heat flooding your cheeks and a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “It’s nothing, Michael,” you said, but the lie was transparent, and you both knew it.

His gaze dropped for a brief moment, then returned to yours, and the silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of unspoken desire. You knew he could tell. You knew he’d seen the way your eyes lingered on him, the way your breath caught just slightly when your gaze met his. And just as surely as you’d noticed him, you felt it in yourself too—the subtle quickening of your pulse, the way your body was beginning to respond, the slow rise of heat pooling low in your belly.

Even though the miles separated you, you felt the pull as if he were standing right in front of you, the connection between you undeniable, magnetic, intimate.

The screen’s glow softened his features, but there was nothing soft about the way Michael stared at you. His eyes held yours, dark and intense, and though the silence stretched, it was thick with everything unspoken. You shifted slightly under his gaze, the silk of your nightgown brushing your skin, making you even more aware of the heat pooling in your belly.

“Tell me,” he repeated, his voice lower, more insistent this time, that commanding edge unmistakable.

You bit your lip, hesitating. His stare was piercing, and even though you were miles apart, it felt like he was right there, hovering over you, demanding an answer. “Michael, it’s nothing,” you lied again, but the tension in your voice betrayed you, the way it came out in a soft, breathless rush.

He let out a soft, almost amused chuckle, shaking his head, his long fingers sliding through his hair as he set the comb down. “You’re terrible at lying, you know that, right?” His smile was small but knowing, like he could read every thought running through your mind.

You swallowed, feeling your face grow warm. “I’m not lying,” you whispered, though your voice was barely convincing even to yourself.

Michael’s gaze dropped lower, his eyes trailing down the screen, taking in the way the nightgown clung to your body, the way you fidgeted slightly under his attention. “Uh-huh,” he hummed, leaning back against the counter, his arms folding across his chest. “Then why are you staring at me like that, doll?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I wasn’t—”

He raised an eyebrow, cutting you off. “Yes, you were.” His voice dipped lower, soft and velvety but with a hard edge. “You’re looking at me like you want something. And you’re not saying what.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the pull between you two becoming impossible to ignore. His voice, the way he was staring at you, made it hard to think straight. “I… wasn’t trying to,” you stammered, but your voice trailed off.

Michael’s lips curled into a sly smile. “You don’t have to try, baby,” he said, his voice now a murmur that sent shivers through you. “I can feel it from here.”

Your breath hitched, your body betraying you as you shifted again, the silk of the nightgown sliding against your skin, making you even more aware of your own growing arousal.

His gaze followed the movement, and he tilted his head slightly, his eyes darkening with intent. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hmm?” he asked, his voice low and intimate, like he was pulling the confession out of you. “Tell me.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “It’s just… you,” you admitted finally, the words slipping out, soft and barely audible.

Michael’s smile widened, something darker flashing in his eyes. “Just me?”

You nodded, unable to look away from him. “Yeah. Just… you.”

He leaned in closer to the camera, his face filling the screen, his eyes holding yours with a steady, burning intensity. “And what about me, doll? What is it you’re thinking?”

Your mouth went dry, the heat between your legs becoming unbearable as your body reacted to his words, his tone. You could feel the desire curling inside you, sharp and demanding, but you hesitated.

Michael’s gaze flickered downward, catching on the way your chest rose and fell, the way your body subtly shifted on the bed, and he let out a low, quiet breath. “You’re getting worked up, aren’t you?” he said, his voice like silk, sliding over you, pulling you in.

You didn’t answer, but your body spoke for you—the slight tremble in your hand, the way your thighs pressed together beneath the sheets. He could see it all, even from across the screen, and that knowledge made your heart race.

“Say it,” he demanded softly, his voice leaving no room for anything but the truth. “Tell me what you want.”

You bit your lip, your heart pounding as you held his gaze, the tension between you tightening like a coil. You could feel the heat rising inside you, your body screaming for him, even through the screen. “I want you,” you whispered, the confession slipping from your lips like a plea.

Michael’s eyes darkened further, a spark of satisfaction lighting in them as he straightened up, his chest rising and falling as if your words had sent a shiver through him too. “That’s better,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, your body responding before your mind could catch up. The air between you two was charged, alive with tension that seemed to hum in your veins. Michael stood there, his fingers gripping the counter, the muscles in his forearms flexing slightly as he leaned closer, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your breath catch. The screen between you felt thin, like a veil you could almost tear through if you just reached out far enough.

“And what do you want me to do, doll?” His voice had roughened, deepened with desire. The question lingered in the air, pulling you in, tightening the pull between you.

Your lips parted, a shiver running through your body, your heart pounding in your chest as you barely whispered, “I want you to touch me.” The words slipped out almost involuntarily, soft but loaded with the weight of your need.

Michael’s lips curled into a slow, wicked smile that made your skin flush hot. He leaned back, letting his eyes sweep over you, devouring every inch even through the screen. “Then show me where you want me to touch you,” he said, the command in his voice unmistakable, the anticipation crackling between you.

Your lips trembled at his words, unsure yet utterly captivated by his intensity. “Right now?” you asked, your voice almost shaking with the sudden rush of heat.

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Right now,” he murmured, his voice velvet and steel. “Is the bedroom door locked?”

You glanced over at the door, your heart racing. “No,” you whispered.

“Go lock it for me,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Then take off that pretty nightgown. We don’t need it getting messy, do we?”

Your breath hitched, and you felt a spark of anticipation light deep inside you. You nodded, lifting the laptop carefully from your lap and setting it down on the bed. Your feet touched the cool hardwood floor, grounding you as you crossed the room, the click of the lock in the quiet room feeling like the beginning of something inevitable.

As you dimmed the lights, casting the room in a soft, intimate glow, you caught your reflection in the mirror—your flushed cheeks, the way your lips parted slightly in anticipation. Slowly, deliberately, you pulled the nightgown over your head, letting the satin slip down your body before laying it neatly on your side of the bed. You couldn’t help but glance back at the screen, feeling Michael’s eyes on you even from miles away.

When you crawled back onto the bed, bare now, the cool sheets beneath you a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from your body, you felt his gaze lock onto your form. His breath hitched softly through the speakers, his eyes darkening further as he leaned against the bathroom wall.

“Look at you,” Michael whispered, his voice low and reverent, laced with desire. “So sexy.”

You smiled, your heart pounding with the thrill of his words. “Thank you, baby,” you said softly, your voice trembling slightly.

Michael pushed off the wall, his body moving with the kind of grace that always left you breathless. He walked back to the counter, setting the laptop down and adjusting the angle so he could see you more clearly. “Lay back for me, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice a gentle command that made your stomach twist with anticipation. “Let me see you.”

You did as he asked, leaning back against the pillows, your legs brushing together as you settled in. Your hand slid down your thighs instinctively, and your breath quickened as you felt the heat building between your legs. The distance between you seemed to evaporate, the connection between you two sharper, more tangible.

“God, I miss you,” Michael muttered, his eyes never leaving your body, his voice rough with longing. “Where would you want me to touch you right now, doll? Show Daddy where it aches.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the sound of his voice alone making your pulse race. You spread your legs slowly, your body trembling with a mix of nerves and need. “Right here,” you murmured in a sultry tone, your fingers trailing down between your thighs. The heat of your core radiated as your fingers slid through the slickness between your folds. “It aches right here.”

Michael’s eyes darkened, his gaze flickering away from the screen for just a moment before he walked out of view. You heard the soft click of the bathroom door closing and locking, the faint sound sending a thrill through you. When he returned, his eyes were sharper, more focused, and there was a tension in his body that made your breath quicken.

“Spread them for me, baby,” Michael murmured, his voice dropping an octave, rough and commanding. “Let me see that pretty clit.”

Your body obeyed before you could think, your legs parting wider as your fingers brushed over your sensitive spot, your body responding to his voice, his gaze, the heat of his desire wrapping around you like a vice. You could feel the intensity of the moment, the way your body yearned for his touch, even though it was miles away.

Your breath became shallow, your chest rising and falling quickly as you held his gaze through the screen. His eyes were locked on yours, dark and full of need, and the sound of his breathing, ragged and low, only fueled your own arousal. You could feel the slickness of your arousal as your fingers moved, and the heat in your body built with each passing second.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “Just like that. Keep going, baby. Let me hear you.”

Your body trembled, every nerve alive and burning with a need only he could fulfill. The sound of Michael’s voice, the slow, deliberate way he spoke to you, made the space between you disappear, leaving only the raw intensity of the moment. His eyes, dark and full of desire, stayed fixed on you, watching the way your fingers moved inside yourself, the way your lips parted in soft moans that barely scratched the surface of the pleasure surging through your body.

“God, baby, you sound so pretty,” he murmured, his chest rising and falling as his breath grew heavier. His gaze flickered down to where your fingers disappeared inside you, your wetness glistening in the dim light, your body aching with a deep need for him. “Slide them deeper for me, baby. I want to watch you.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, you pushed your fingers deeper, your walls tightening around them as a breathless moan escaped your lips. The feeling of your slick heat enveloping your fingers sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, but it wasn’t enough—it could never be enough without him.

Michael groaned low in his throat, his hand already moving down, slipping beneath his waistband as he palmed his thick, aching length. “You’re making me so damn hard, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with need. His fingers wrapped tightly around his length, gripping it through the rough fabric of his slacks. His arousal was so evident, straining against the material, his body screaming for you as much as yours was for him.

“Michael…” Your voice trembled, barely a whisper, but he heard it. His eyes locked on yours, a smirk playing on his lips, knowing exactly how much you wanted him. “I need you…”

He licked his lips, standing up straighter, his movements slow and deliberate as he unbuckled his belt, the clinking sound sending shivers down your spine. The metal clinked again as he let it fall to the floor, your eyes never leaving the way his hands moved with such confidence, with such need. “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he murmured, his voice a deep growl that made your whole body tighten with desire.

He slid his slacks down, stepping out of them with a grace that only he possessed. Now in just his white briefs, you could see the outline of him, thick and hard, the fabric struggling to contain him. His bulge pressed tightly against the soft cotton, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip, your fingers faltering for a second as you watched him.

“You want it, don’t you?” Michael asked, his voice teasing as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, slowly peeling them down. The way his body moved was mesmerizing, every muscle in his slender, toned frame seeming to ripple as he freed himself from the last piece of clothing.

You moaned softly at the sight of him, his length thick and perfect, adorned with the splotches of his vitiligo that made him so uniquely beautiful. His length was an exquisite mix of colors—deep brown, soft pink, and pale white—each mark telling a story, each part of him more beautiful than the last. The thick foreskin rolled back as he stroked himself, exposing the flushed pink tip, glistening with precum. Your core throbbed, your body craving the feeling of him filling you, stretching you, making you his.

“I want you so bad,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat. “I miss you…”

Michael groaned at your words, his hand gripping his length tighter, his thumb smearing the bead of precum that had formed at the tip. “I miss you more, beautiful. So much…” His voice was low, gravelly, filled with the same longing that echoed in your chest. He spat into his palm, rubbing it over his length, each slow stroke making you ache even more. “You need me, don’t you?”

You whimpered, your hips bucking slightly as you pumped your fingers faster, but it still wasn’t enough. “I need you inside me, baby. Please…” The desperation in your voice was palpable, your body on the edge, ready to tip over into oblivion, but it was him you needed to send you there.

His eyes darkened, filled with lust and something deeper, something raw and primal. “I bet you do,” he murmured, his voice sending a fresh wave of arousal through you. “Your fingers don’t feel the same, do they? Not like me. You like when I stretch you, don’t you? When I fill you so deep, you can’t think of anything else.”

You moaned in response, your fingers moving faster now, matching the rhythm of his strokes. “Yes, baby,” you gasped. “I love it when you stretch me… when you fill me so tight.”

Michael’s voice was thick with need, every word dripping with desire as his hand slowed, gripping his thick length with the kind of patience that made your entire body throb. “God, I wish I was there,” he growled, his voice laced with frustration, the distance between you unbearable. “I need to feel how tight you are… how wet you are for me.” His breath hitched, and you could see the way his length twitched in his hand, the precum glistening at the tip as he twisted his wrist, his strokes slower but more deliberate now.

You watched, mesmerized by the sight of him, the way his large hand moved over his length. His muscles rippled with each slow, controlled motion, the sheer size of him making you ache in a way that made your core pulse even more. His words brought you back to reality, the intensity of his gaze locking you in.

“Match with me, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low groan that reverberated through your body. “I don’t want you to cum yet.”

Your body trembled as you nodded, slowing the movement of your fingers inside yourself, matching the rhythm of his strokes. Your fingers curled just right, brushing that spot deep inside that made your toes curl, but you fought to keep control, not wanting to disobey his command. The slickness of your arousal coated your fingers, and you couldn’t help but moan softly, the sound filling the quiet space around you.

Michael’s eyes darkened, his gaze intense as he watched you, his lips parting in a soft, shaky breath. “You like watching me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice laced with a teasing edge, but there was no doubt that he knew the effect he had on you.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, and your mind wandered, flashing back to the countless nights you had found him like this—waiting for you, sprawled out on the bed after the kids were finally asleep, his body bare, his hand wrapped around his length just like it was now. He’d always be watching you, his eyes dark with lust, waiting for the moment when you’d walk over and take control, finishing what he started with your own hand. You could almost feel the weight of him in your grip, the warmth of his seed spilling onto your fingers as he let go, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Say it, baby,” Michael groaned, his voice pulling you back to the present. “I know you do. I know you wish you could touch me right now, but I promise you, when I get home, you’re all mine.”

The way he said it made your body tighten, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you slowed your fingers, your breath ragged. “Yes, Michael,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as the desire swelled inside you.

But Michael shook his head, a slow, teasing grin spreading across his face. “Wrong name, doll,” he said with a soft chuckle, his body twitching as his thumb grazed over the slick tip of his length. His voice dropped to a low, guttural growl as he added, “You know better than that.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your body trembling as you corrected yourself, “Yes, daddy…” you moaned, your voice a needy whimper that made his eyes flash with approval.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with praise as his hand moved faster now, pumping his length with slow, deliberate strokes that had you biting your lip in anticipation. “Spread those pretty legs for me. Let me see all of you.”

You obeyed instantly, spreading your legs wider, your skin flushed with arousal as you opened yourself completely for him, giving him the full view he craved. The way he looked at you, the hunger in his eyes as he took in every inch of your exposed body, made you feel powerful, like you were his whole world in that moment.

“Fuck…” Michael groaned deeply, his hand tightening around his length as his eyes roamed over your body. He watched the way your slickness glistened between your thighs, his thumb brushing over the head of his length, spreading the precum that dripped from his swollen tip. “I need you,” he growled, his voice rough with desperation. “I need to be inside you, right now.”

Your breath hitched, your fingers slipping deeper inside yourself as you watched him, your body trembling with the need to feel him, to be filled by him. “I need you too, baby,” you whispered, your voice a soft plea as your fingers moved faster, matching the rhythm of his strokes. “I want to feel you so bad…”

Michael’s eyes darkened, his body tensing as he imagined the feel of you wrapped around him, your tight, wet heat pulling him deeper, the way your body always responded so perfectly to his. “Soon, baby,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a growl. “When I get home… I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk the next day.”

The promise in his words made your body tremble, your breath coming faster as you felt the edge approaching, but you held back, waiting for him, needing to cum with him, needing to hear his voice as you came apart. “Please, baby,” you moaned, your fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot. “I’m so close…”

The tension between your bodies was electric, every word that spilled from Michael’s lips a molten thread that wrapped tighter around your senses, pulling you closer to the edge. His voice was a husky growl, rich and deep, each syllable dripping with lust. “Just a little longer, baby,” he rasped, his breath ragged, as if he could barely contain the heat rising inside him. “I want to hear more… God, you sound so wet for me. You’re driving me crazy.”

The sound of his voice sent a shiver straight through you, making your breath catch in your throat. You moaned softly, desperate and aching, as your fingers moved faster inside you, the slickness of your arousal coating them. Your hips lifted slightly off the bed, seeking more, needing more, as your body trembled with each slow, deliberate thrust of your fingers. Your other hand roamed up your chest, fingertips grazing your heated skin, until they found your breast, your fingers pinching the sensitive nipple, the sharp sensation shooting a fresh wave of pleasure straight to your core.

Michael’s gaze was locked onto you, burning, his dark eyes hooded with desire as they trailed over every inch of your body. It felt like his touch even though he was miles away—his hunger radiating through the screen, making your skin tingle with the intensity of it. The connection between you felt tangible, heavy, like you could reach through the distance and pull him to you. You watched the way his muscles flexed as he stroked himself, his large hand gripping his thick length, the sound of his slick, rhythmic strokes filling the space, deepening the desire in your belly.

His head fell back against the wall of the hotel bathroom, his body flushed with heat, his legs spread wide, hips rocking forward as he fucked his hand, his need palpable. His other hand gripped the counter for balance, his chest rising and falling heavily, droplets of sweat glistening on his skin. The raw masculinity of him like this—completely lost in the fantasy of you—made your insides quiver with longing. You wanted him there so badly, needed to feel him between your thighs, inside you, his body pressed against yours, hot and slick and hard.

“Fuck, baby,” Michael groaned, his voice deeper now, a low rumble that sent vibrations through your body. “You look so good… I wish I could touch you, feel you right now. I need to be inside you, baby. I need to feel how tight you are for me.”

Your body reacted instantly to his words, your pulse racing as a wave of pleasure washed over you. “Michael…” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need, your fingers pumping faster, hitting that spot deep inside that made your thighs quiver. You were so close, the heat between your legs nearly unbearable, your core tightening as you chased the release that hovered just out of reach. “I need you so much… I need you to fuck me.”

His eyes darkened at your words, his breath hitching as his hand moved faster along his shaft , his thick length glistening with precum. “You’re going to feel so good when I get home,” he groaned, his voice heavy, thick with promise.

The image of him sinking deep inside you, filling you completely, sent you spiraling closer to the edge. You moaned his name again, breathless, your body trembling with need, desperate for him, desperate to come undone for him. “Please… I need to cum, Michael,” you begged, your voice soft, filled with the weight of your desire. “I need you to make me cum.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes locked on you, the intensity of his gaze making you feel like he was right there with you, watching every little movement, every little sound you made. “Not yet, baby,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “Hold on for me. I want to see you beg for it.”

A soft whimper escaped your lips, your body trembling as you held back, fighting the overwhelming urge to let go. “Please, baby… please,” you whispered, your voice shaky, desperate. “I need it… I need you so bad.”

Michael’s breath was a low, ragged hum, each inhale more strained than the last as he worked his hand over his thick, pulsing length, the pressure of his grip intensifying. His voice, rough and edged with desire, was laced with command as he whispered, “That’s it, baby… Cum for me. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

His words sent a jolt through your body, your moans growing louder, almost desperate, as your fingers moved faster, slipping and sliding through the slickness of your arousal, the wet sounds filling the room. Your fingers curled deeper, hitting just the right spot that made your thighs quiver and your breath catch in your throat. Your hips bucked uncontrollably, chasing the edge, your body on fire, every nerve tingling with anticipation. The sounds of his heavy breaths and deep groans reverberated through the speakers, blending with your own cries of pleasure, creating an intimate, carnal symphony between you.

Your eyes stayed fixed on Michael, the image of him—head thrown back against the wall, chest heaving, muscles taut with need—etched in your mind. His eyes were locked on the camera, watching you fall apart, feeding off every little moan that escaped your lips. His strokes were fast, hard, the veins on his thick shaft bulging under his tight grip. His toes curled against the cold tile floor as he pushed himself closer to his release.

“I’m so close, baby,” he growled, his voice strained as he watched your fingers pump inside you. His length twitched in his hand, his grip tightening, the muscles in his forearms flexing with every movement. He was on the brink, teetering dangerously close to the edge, his body begging for release.

With one last stroke of your fingers, your body shattered. A breathy moan ripped from your throat as you came, Michael’s name spilling from your lips like a prayer, your hips lifting off the bed as waves of pleasure rolled through you. Your core tightened around your fingers, your body trembling uncontrollably, the heat of your release coursing through every inch of you.

“Fuck…” Michael groaned deeply, his body jerking as his release hit him hard, his hand moving faster, the slick sounds of his strokes filling the room. He growled, low and primal, as thick ropes of his hot seed shot out, splattering onto the floor, dripping from his tip in long, sticky strands. His body trembled with the force of it, his breathing heavy and uneven, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts.

You watched him through the haze of your own pleasure, your body still trembling, your fingers coated in your slick arousal as you came down from the high. Your moans lingered in the air, soft and breathless, as you laid back against the pillows, your legs weak and aching, your skin flushed and sensitive.

Michael leaned back against the wall, his hand still wrapped around his semi-hard length, now covered in his own release. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, sweat dripping down the side of his neck, tracing the curve of his collarbone. His gaze was half-lidded, his lips parted slightly as he stared at the ceiling, the remnants of pleasure still washing over him.

“I miss you,” he said, his voice still tinged with the rough edge of his desire, but now softer, more tender. It was a confession, raw and vulnerable.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening with the same longing, your heart aching to have him there beside you. “I miss you more,” you whispered, your voice soft, almost pleading. “Come home soon, baby.”

He nodded, his eyes dropping back to the screen, the intensity in them replaced by something warmer, more affectionate. “I will,” he promised, his voice low but filled with certainty. “Go clean up, I’ll be right here.”

You slipped your fingers out of yourself, your body still sensitive, and slowly climbed off the bed, your legs trembling as you made your way to the bathroom. The light flickered on as you entered, the cool tile beneath your feet a sharp contrast to the warmth still pulsing through your body. You turned the faucet on and lathered your hands with soap, scrubbing away the slick remnants of your release, the water running warm over your skin.

Back in the hotel bathroom, Michael moved with slow, deliberate motions, his body still humming with the aftershocks of his release. He wiped away the thick seed that had spilled onto the floor, his hand pausing for a moment as his mind drifted back to you. Even after his orgasm, the need for you gnawed at him, a dull ache that refused to leave. His length, still semi-hard, swayed slightly as he moved, a testament to just how deeply you affected him, even from miles away. His hand could never quite compare to the way your body felt, the way your warmth clung to him, trembling under his touch, tightening around him in the way only you could.

You turned off the water, drying your hands slowly before flipping the bathroom light off. The cool hardwood floor felt sharp against your bare feet as you padded quietly back to the bed, your body still tingling from the intimacy shared moments before. You slipped on your nightgown, the fabric cool against your flushed skin, before easing back onto the bed. The room was quiet now, the only sound the soft rustle of the sheets as you settled in.

Reaching over to the nightstand, you grabbed the laptop, watching Michael as he finished cleaning himself up. He looked so at ease, the tension from earlier completely gone, his chest rising and falling steadily. It was just him—just Michael—and the sight of him like that, bare and relaxed, made your heart swell with warmth.

He caught you watching him, his lips curving into a soft, genuine smile that made your chest tighten. “Hi, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice softer now, the rough edge of desire replaced by something more tender. He picked up the laptop and moved back to the bedroom, setting it down on the bed before easing onto it, his body still bare. His length, though beginning to soften, still hung heavy between his legs, the evidence of his earlier need for you lingering.

Michael leaned back against the pillows, running his fingers through his tousled hair, a deep breath escaping his lips as he settled in. “Still need some help?” you teased, your tone playful but your eyes lingering on him, drinking in the sight of his still-recovering body.

He glanced down at himself with a chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “It should go down soon, I think,” he said, his tone light but laced with the remnants of desire. Then, with a smirk, he added, “I wouldn’t have this problem if you had come with me.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Oh, I beg to differ, stallion. You’d still be like this, and we both know it.”

He let out a deep, rumbling laugh, the sound vibrating through the screen. “Maybe,” he admitted, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Then, his expression softened, his tone becoming more casual. “When are you going to sleep, baby?”

You shrugged, pulling the covers up around you as you settled in more comfortably. “Whenever sleep decides to creep up on me. What about you? Got anything later?”

Michael ran a slow hand over his bare chest, his fingers brushing across the ridges of muscle, his skin still warm from earlier. “Just a couple of meetings, nothing serious,” he said with a lazy grin, his eyes locking onto yours. The teasing glint in his gaze sent a familiar flutter through your stomach. “I’ll be free tonight.”

Your eyes twinkled with playful mischief as you leaned closer to the screen. “How free?” you asked, your voice low and suggestive, a hint of heat in your tone. “Because I was thinking… maybe we could do this again later.”

Michael chuckled softly, his smile deepening as he shook his head, wagging a finger at you. “Aht, aht. You know better than that. That’s my time with the girls,” he teased, though his voice was thick with affection. “You’ll have to be patient, baby. But don’t worry, it’ll be worth it when I get home.”

Your gaze flickered down to where his hand rested on his still slightly erect length, his attempts to cover himself proving futile. You could see the outline of him beneath the blanket, and it made you bite your lip, the thought of how he’d feel against you stirring that familiar ache deep inside. “Is that right?” you teased back, rolling your eyes playfully as you snuggled deeper into the covers, pulling them tighter around you. “Guess I’ll just have to wait then.”

Michael’s smile softened as he adjusted under the blanket, the movement revealing a glimpse of his lean stomach before he settled in more comfortably. His voice lowered, his tone taking on a more intimate quality. “I do miss you, though,” he admitted, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. It wasn’t just about the physical—there was a depth in his confession that spoke of the quiet moments, the small touches, the way your presence filled the empty spaces in his life.

You felt your heart clench at the sincerity in his voice, the longing he never quite managed to hide. “I miss you more,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “But this… this isn’t as hard as when you were on tour for three years. That was unbearable.” You tried to smile, but the ache of those long months without him still haunted you sometimes.

Michael’s face twisted into a wry smile, half amusement, half regret. He rolled his eyes gently, trying to lighten the mood but knowing how deeply it affected you. “I know… but at least now, I’ve got more time for you and the girls. I always will. That’s never going to change.” His eyes softened as he stared at you through the screen, his expression filled with a kind of love that made the miles between you feel like nothing. “I promise, baby. Always.”

You both fell into a quiet, lingering moment, just staring at each other, soaking in the connection that remained even through the distance. The intimacy of it, the love, filled the space between you, making the world feel small and just for the two of you. You reached for his pillow beside you, hugging it close, the familiar scent of black orchid wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. It was his scent—strong, bold, and uniquely Michael.

“Tired?” he asked softly, watching you with a knowing look, one arm propped behind his head while the other lazily traced patterns over his chest.

You nodded, blinking slowly as exhaustion began to creep up on you. “A little… I shouldn’t have stayed up so late. The girls wanted to go to the park for a picnic, and you know how hard it is to say no to them,” you said with a soft smile, your heart warming at the thought of the little moments you cherished with your children.

Michael bit his lip, his dark eyes softening as he watched you through the screen. He could see the exhaustion settling into your features, but also the contentment that came with the simplicity of normal life—the life you created together, away from the madness of the outside world. He let out a slow breath, his voice dropping to that low, intimate tone that always seemed to wrap around you like a blanket. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourselves. You all deserve that… you deserve so much more,” he murmured, his words laced with a tenderness that only deepened the ache of his absence.

You smiled, though it was weighed down by tiredness, your eyes heavy but still holding that familiar warmth he knew so well. “They miss you,” you said softly, your voice catching just a little as you spoke. “I tell them all the time that you can’t do everything because you’re working… but they don’t really understand yet. And they asked…” You trailed off, your eyes flicking away from the screen for a moment.

Michael’s brow furrowed slightly, curiosity piqued by the hesitance in your voice. He leaned a little closer to the screen, his hand absentmindedly running through his tousled hair. “Asked about what, baby?” he pressed, his voice still gentle but edged with concern.

You took a deep breath, the weight of what you were about to say lingering between you like a tangible thing. When you finally spoke, it was in a soft, careful whisper, as though the word itself might stir something painful. “Neverland,” you said, letting it hang in the air between you, the significance of the place touching every corner of your relationship. You knew what it meant to him—how deeply it was tied to his dreams, and how much it hurt to let it go. “They’re curious, and I try to explain, but… you know how stubborn they can be. Stubborn like their daddy,” you added with a gentle smile, trying to lighten the mood, though the gravity of the conversation was impossible to ignore.

Michael’s face tightened for a moment, his expression darkening with the memories that the name evoked. He sighed deeply, the sound heavy and resigned as his fingers dragged through his hair. His shoulders sagged just a bit, the weight of it all seeming to press down on him as he thought about it. “We’ll find our home, baby. I promise,” he said, his voice steady but thick with determination. “Just tell them daddy’s working on it, alright? It won’t be long. We’ll have something just as special.” The conviction in his words was strong, but there was a flicker of old pain in his eyes, the kind you knew would always be there no matter how much time passed.

Your heart clenched at the sight of him, the vulnerability he rarely showed anyone but you. “Please come home soon,” you whispered, your voice almost breaking under the weight of how much you needed him. “I miss you so much, Michael. I hate it when you’re away… it feels like part of me is missing.”

His face softened at your words, and for a moment, the mask he wore for the world slipped, revealing the deep ache of longing mirrored in his eyes. “I’ll be home soon, baby. I promise.” His voice was thick with emotion, low and soothing, like he was trying to wrap you up in comfort even from a distance. “Don’t get too worked up, okay? I don’t want you stressing out. When I get back, I’ll take care of you, I swear.”

You nodded, unable to find the words as your throat tightened, the overwhelming need for him making it hard to speak. “Okay,” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible.

He sighed again, the sound full of love and something deeper—an unspoken understanding that the distance between you was unbearable, but only temporary. “I love you, beautiful. Please get some rest for me, alright?” His tone was soft, coaxing, but there was a firmness to it too, the kind that made you want to do anything he asked just to ease the concern in his voice. “It’s only a few more days… and then I’ll be right there next to you.”

You nodded again, your voice catching in your throat as you whispered, “I will.”

Michael’s expression shifted into something warmer, more playful as he smiled at you, his lips curling into that familiar grin that always made your heart skip a beat. “I’ll call you before I head to sleep tonight. I love you.”

You smiled sleepily, your eyelids growing heavier by the second as you fought the pull of exhaustion. “I love you more, doodoo,” you murmured, the nickname slipping from your lips without thought, a habit from years of teasing.

He chuckled deeply, the sound rich and full, like velvet wrapping around you in the quiet of the night. “Goodnight, pretty,” he whispered, his voice a soothing caress just before the screen went dark, the call ending.

You sat there for a moment, staring at the blank screen, the silence of the room settling around you like a heavy cloak. Then, with a sigh, you closed the laptop and pulled his pillow closer to your chest, burying your face in the soft fabric. His scent—bold and rich with notes of black orchid—filled your senses, wrapping you in the comfort of his presence even though he wasn’t there. You snuggled deeper into the blankets, letting the warmth of his pillow soothe you as sleep finally began to claim you.

Soon, he’d be home. Soon, he’d be right there in your arms, where he belonged.

[girlboypersonthingy]

hi!! i love ur writing sm :D

do u think u could do a pidge x reader where reader is english/history smart and pidge is math/science smart, so they became academic rivals (but they always secretly respected and even admired eachother), never saw eachother after pidge left for the garrison and THEN somehow find themselves together again on the castle ship. (maybe reader helped keith save shiro or sumthing like that?)

kinda a classic academic rivals to lovers thing

i daydream diff scenarios with her too often lol

sorry if i didn’t leave a lot of room for imagination :( but i’d love to see ur take on it if possible!!

THIS IS SO ADORABLE YOUVE GOT TO B KIDDIN ME RN 🥹💚💚💚 I love my little Pigeon girl, they are my fav Paladin by far. Also sorry, I bounce between she/her and they/them for Pidge. Idk it’s a habit…also LEE PLZ FORGIVE ME FOR TAKING NEARLY A YEAR TO GET TO THIS 🥹

Academic Rivals to Lovers w/ Pidge

So it all started when Pidge and you were both new to the garrison. You both kept hearing about this super smart person that was new to school and, in typically cocky fashion, you both assumed everyone was talking about you, as in yourself. But then…Lance started teasing Pidge about how there’s another new crazy intelligent kid and telling her she has competition now.

Immediately upon hearing this, Pidge takes it upon herself to figure out who you are, what your deal is and if she should consider you friend…or foe

The first time you two meet, it’s a bit awkward. It’s sort of like…both your friend groups helped yall finally meet and get to talking. They figured you guys could keep up with each other in convo, both being so smart and well spoken. As your friends all stood around, obviously clueless as to what yall were talking about, your friendly banter quickly escalated to you and Pidge very loudly debating which is more interesting and essential to the evolution of human life and knowledge, English and history OR math and science.

Pidge is probably now yelling something like “HOW ELSE IS HUMANITY GONNA EVOLVE?! SCIENCE AND MATH ARE ESSENTIAL FOR NEW DISCOVERIES AND FUTURE GROWTH AND FINDING OUT WHATS BEYOND EARTH AND-“

And you’re now trying to yell over her “YEAH OKAY OKAY AND HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF !!! HOW WILL HUMANITY EVOLVE UNLESS WE KNOW ABOUT ALL THE HISTORY OF HUMANS AND MISTAKES WEVE MADE AND-“

Everyone else around yall: 🤔😥🫠

From that point on, it became a competition, it was all about who could finish their test first, who could finish their book first, who got the higher grade on their essay or quiz.

Then, Pidge started trying to one up you by learning even more about YOUR fav subjects just to rub it in your face that she’s smarter and better than you in EVERYTHING AND EVERYWAY. (Not really, she’s actually just trying to impress you but also playfully tease you about it)

And guess what…you do the same. Y’all are basically like Keith and Lance with that love hate, frenemies type relationship.

And secretly…yall are pining so hard for each other, not so much annoyed at how smart the other is…but more infatuated with learning more about what the other is really into. You complimented each other well. You had a lot in common while also being total opposites in some aspects.

Pidge finds herself in bed at 2am one night with a book she saw you reading once. It looked fairly interesting and she wanted to see what the hype was about. As she read more and more, she began daydreaming about you as her eyes scanned over page after page, her mind focused solely on you as the words she read seemed blurry, not sticking in her brain…you were taking up too much space in there atm.

You found yourself trying to read about and learn how to code and work on tech. You found yourself totally lost and out of your element. It kinda made you smile…thinking about how she was already a science and tech wiz and now she was really getting into history and English thanks to you. Maybe…she was smarter and…maybe it’s all very important.

Before you could gather the nerve and swallow your pride and go apologize to her for treating her less than kind and being an annoying snob…

Shit hit the fan…

You helped Keith save Shiro, ended up in space in what felt like the blink of an eye and suddenly, you and pidge were attached at the hip.

It was like the severity of the situation and Pidge’s fierce determination completely erased your guys’ past together. Now, it was time to band together for the sake of everyone and everything. For the sake of her family.

You and Pidge began spending A TON of time together, often helping each other with tasks, codes, anything the others needed help with. Y’all were the puzzle solvers, the hackers, the ones Lance and Keith came to when they didn’t understand something, the cutie little nerd duo 🥹

With each time you two hung out, you found yourselves both relaxing more, joking and laughing more around each other, bonding more.

Pidge began coming to you all the time to show you new inventions or test out weird stuff on you. You were kinda flattered she always came to you first.

You began often running to Pidge after every book you’d read from the library in the castle. You’d be all excited about something new you just learned about Altean history, zooming through the halls with a huge smile as you look for your girl.

You bust into the room like “HEEYYYYY! OH MY GODDDD GUESS WHAT!!! Soooo, I just found out-“

Cue you rambling for at least 20 minutes while Pidge just smiles and nods along (occasionally she watches your lips move as you talk, only for a couple seconds before she looks back into your eyes)

As time went on, you found yourself becoming increasingly protective over Pidge, especially when out in battle. You…just like her and don’t wanna see your friend hurt or scared.

The first time she ever got hurt, or even got close to getting caught by the galra, she came back to the castle to see you waiting for them in the lion’s hangar, tears streaming down your face. You thought she would be in worse shape and even tho she looked perfectly fine, you were still distraught.

Y’all never really touched besides playful nudges and when you’d ruffle her messy hair but that day…yeah, you hugged her hard that day….

She was a little confused. No one else was this concerned for her so…why were you so freaked out? She was fine, actually more calm than you were atm.

You were so comforted and lowkey entranced by her soft embrace that you didn’t even notice Pidge was now on their knees, bringing you gently down into the same position, as you squeeze each other tighter down on the floor.

“Geez, (Y/N)…you alright?” she mumbles as she pulls back to look at you, worry present on her face.

“I’m sorry, I just…you’re like my best friend. I don’t know if I can do this without you. You…you need to be more careful!”

She was…frozen…watching your lip quiver.

You called her your best friend. The ‘best’ part really made her stomach drop. She was glad you two were closer now and not in a constant academic battle…and it’s not that she doesn’t consider you her best friend, she just…didn’t know you thought so highly of her.

Your friendship and relationship are a slow burn.

For months upon months, y’all just hang out, stay friends, bond over space tech and space history, occasionally cuddle, once in a while you’ll hold hands. Oh shoot, are yall falling asleep in the same bed? Whoa, wait…she’s started hugging you every single day. OMG SHES SO CLOSE TO YOUR FACE AS SHE LOOKS OVER INTO THE BOOK YOU’RE READING AND D A M N YOU REALLY WANNS KISS HER FRECKLED CHEEK RN, WOULD THAT BE WEIRD???

It’s a slow burn…until it isn’t anymore.

You’re the one to confess to her and Pidge is looking at you like 🫤 “oh uhm…I thought we…already kind of established that we…like each other more than friends…?”

You feel kind of dumb but excited nonetheless!!! SHE LIKES YOU BACK!!!!

The rest of the team is even like “Wait, yall hold hands and sleep in the same bed most nights. You’re not dating yet??? Hello?”

And from then on, you guys are absolutely love sick besties together. Not so much love sick in a physical touchy sense but just very emotionally supportive and kind and sweet to each other.

🥹🥹🥹

[ravenkings]

The news business is in upheaval. A presidential election is barreling down the pike. Facing financial challenges and political division, several of America’s largest news organizations have turned over the reins to editors who prize relentless reporting on a budget. And they all happen to be British. Will Lewis, a veteran of London’s Daily Telegraph and News UK, is now the chief executive of The Washington Post, where reporters have raised questions about his Fleet Street ethics. He recently ousted the paper’s American editor and replaced her with a former colleague from The Telegraph, dumbfounding American reporters who had never heard of him. Emma Tucker (formerly of The Sunday Times) took over The Wall Street Journal last year, shortly after Mark Thompson (formerly of the BBC) became chairman of CNN, where he has ordered an American remake of the long-running BBC comedy quiz show “Have I Got News for You.”

They joined a slew of Brits already ensconced in the American media establishment. Michael Bloomberg, a noted Anglophile, hired John Micklethwait (former editor of the London-based Economist) in 2015 to run Bloomberg News. Rupert Murdoch tapped Keith Poole (The Sun and The Daily Mail) to edit The New York Post in 2021, the same year that The Associated Press named an Englishwoman, Daisy Veerasingham, as its chief executive. “We are the ultimate trophies for American billionaires,” joked Joanna Coles, the English-born editor who in April became head of The Daily Beast, the online news outlet itself named after a newspaper in an Evelyn Waugh novel. Ms. Coles has not hesitated to recruit more of her compatriots, installing a Scot as editor in chief and a Guardian reporter as Washington bureau chief. “We are loading up on Brits,” she said in an interview. [...] But while British journalists are used to intense competition, their journalistic rule book is not always in line with American standards. At The Washington Post, the home of Woodward and Bernstein, some of Mr. Lewis’s behavior has unsettled the newsroom. The New York Times reported on Wednesday that Mr. Lewis had urged The Post’s former editor, Sally Buzbee, to not cover a court decision concerning his involvement in Rupert Murdoch’s phone-hacking scandal in Britain. (A spokeswoman for Mr. Lewis has said that account of the conversation was inaccurate.) An NPR reporter then disclosed that Mr. Lewis had offered an exclusive interview if the reporter agreed to drop an article about the scandal. (The spokeswoman said that Mr. Lewis had spoken with NPR before joining The Post, and that after he joined The Post interview requests were “through the normal corporate communication channels.”) This kind of behavior may be acceptable at some London papers, where proprietors are less hesitant to fiddle with coverage. In American newsrooms, it’s verboten — as is the practice of paying for information. At The Telegraph, Mr. Lewis spent 110,000 pounds for documents that fueled a damaging exposé of parliamentary corruption. (His rivals at The Sun and The Times of London balked at a similar deal.) The Telegraph reporter who secured the documents, Robert Winnett, is set to become The Post’s editor later this year. As for the view across the pond? “We are all greeting this with a mix of amusement and indignation,” said one Fleet Street editor, who requested anonymity to avoid the ire of any overly sensitive superiors. (In keeping with the spirit of British tabloids, the request was granted.) “Amusement that these fancy high priests of American journalism are being monstered by good old-fashioned, tough-guy British editors; indignation that they find it so extraordinary that they might have something to learn from across the pond,” the editor said. “Yes, our standards are a bit lower, but we’re extremely competitive and intense and no-nonsense, and that’s probably helpful given how the industry is going.”

the fact that a lot of american billionaires seem to be spearheading this makes me wonder how much of it has to do with these journalists coming from a country where they have to work with notoriously wack libel laws and an extremely rigid class structure (and a monarchy which they kiss the ass of tbh) thus presumably making them more willing to kowtow to authority.............🤔🧐

[verdantcrimson]

An Idol's Life of Daily Study

Writer: Umeda Chitose

Season: Autumn

TL: verdantcrimson

(Unproofread) (Thank you to the Translation Collaboration server for assisting me with a few of the lines!)

Kuro: What? You’re sayin’ AKATSUKI’s next job is to show up on a History-themed quiz show?

Keito: Yes. From what I heard, they approached us due to our reputation as a Japanese culture themed unit.

Kuro: …… I’m not sayin’ I’m not grateful to be gettin’ work, but…

Kuro: We tend to get jobs like this pretty frequently ‘cause of our unit theme, yeah?

Keito: What is it? Are you dissatisfied?

Kuro: I’m not dissatisfied. If anythin’, I’m worried.

Kuro: ‘Cause it’s about intelligence and not strength. Guess what I oughtta say that I’d probably be more useful in a show or event that’s less brainwork and more brawns.

Kuro: If I’m bein’ frank, it’d be a bad idea to have me competin’ in an intelligence based competition. ‘Cause I’m stupid.

Keito: What to do if you’ve given up before you’ve tried? This job is something that we were able to acquire because of AKATSUKI’s uniqueness.

Keito: Additionally, our reputation as a Japanese cultural unit may yield us similar jobs appearing on history-related shows in the future.

Keito: For instance, educational or informational programs for elementary and junior high school students. There’s no harm in studying something that’ll help you in the future, right?

Kuro: You’re real assertive, danna… Welp, I can’t keep actin’ all pathetic about it. 

Keito: That’s the spirit. Let’s do everything we can in the weeks leading up to the recording.

Kuro: … Does “doing everything we can'' have anythin’ to do with all of those reference books ya brought over, Hasumi?

Keito: Now, now. I’m pretty sure I gave both you and Kanzaki assorted reference materials when you were going to appear on a quiz show.

Keito: This time, in addition to those materials, I’ve analyzed the question patterns in the past runs of this show and even prepared a mock quiz.

Kuro: Eugh. Don’t ya think you’re a little too prepared……?

Kuro: After graduatin’ I thought I’d be able to live the rest of my life without havin’ to take another test. Just hearin’ the word gets me down in the dumps.

Keito: Fufu, don’t say that. I brought something today that might bring back even more memories of your school days.

Kuro: That cover, s’that…… A glossary of Japanese history?

Keito: There’s no need to glare at it so resentfully. This book is filled with hundreds, maybe even thousands of important pieces of vocabulary that we need to study. Here, have a look.

Kuro: Even if ya tell me to “have a look”...

Keito: I recommend studying the parts that I’ve highlighted with a marker. When it comes to such things, being able to focus on what is important makes all the difference.

Kuro: Even if it’s only the highlighted bits, the amount is just so…… (flipping through the pages of the glossary)

Kuro: ......?

Keito: What is it?

Kuro: Nothin’. I dunno why, but I was just thinkin’ how untouched this glossary looks for somethin’ that’s been used for three years.

Kuro: There ain’t any creasin’ on the pages, and not much writin’ either. Pretty sure I saw textbooks last year that had way more stuff in there.

Keito: You noticed well. I just bought this glossary.

Kuro: ? Why’d ya go and buy it again?

Keito: The one I used to use was in poor shape. I figured it might be difficult to study with, so I bought the same book.

Kuro: Then, does that mean ya highlighted everythin’ all over again too?

Keito: Of course. The knowledge you’d need for a quiz show is different from what you’d need for a highschool test, so naturally, the areas highlighted would have to differ.

Keito: I learned quite a bit while drawing new lines with the highlighter. I knew it’d be a good idea to buy a fresh copy……♪

Kuro: Sigh. You’re sure are studious, danna……

Kuro: (It’s incredible. Every single line is drawn perfectly straight, like he used a ruler.)

Kuro: (He’s a real meticulous guy. Goin’ out of his way to buy a new book just to study shows just how serious he is.)

Kuro: ( —He’s gone this far for my sake, I guess I’ve gotta buckle down and study hard too.)

Kuro: …… (flipping through the pages of the glossary again)

Keito: Kiryu. You know you won’t be able to learn much just turning pages, right?

Kuro: That’s not what I’m doin’. I just thought I’d try and find an era of history that I think might be easy to understand.

Kuro: Okay yeah, startin’ from the Sengoku era would probably be the easiest.

Keito: Good idea. Partly thanks to manga and videogames, even people who aren’t familiar with history tend to know some names and have a vague visual of a few generals from the Sengoku era.

Keito: Furthermore, the show we’re appearing on has asked questions where the participants were asked to draw connections between various warlords, the territories they ruled, and the battles they fought several times in the past.

Kuro: Really? Then it’d be better to study the Sengoku warlords so I’ll at least be able to answer those questions, even if I suck at everythin’ else.

Kuro: The Sengoku era related stuff… Starts from around here.

Keito: I don’t mind if you write on sticky-notes and stick them in the book if you feel the need. Make use of it in whichever way makes it easiest for you to study, Kiryu.

Kuro: It belongs to you, danna, I ain’t gonna get too comfortable. Wouldn’t wanna ruin a brand new glossary with my writing.

Kuro: Besides…

Kuro: Over the course of your long idol career, you’re gonna keep usin’ that glossary until it’s all worn out again, right Hasumi?

Kuro: Just watchin’ the writin’ and sticky notes that ya add to the glossary grow in number works perfectly for me.

Keito: …… Fufu, ‘until it’s all worn out again’?

Keito: I suppose so. Then you can look forward to what kind of book this one will become in the future.

Kuro: Yeah. For now though, I’m just gonna burn this still new and shiny glossary into my brain……♪

[A while later]

Kuro: Ugh….. Couldja let me off the hook for today?

Kuro: If I do any more readin’, all the words are gonna fall outta my head.

Keito: You’ve been quietly working hard this whole time. You even took notes. Good work, Kiryu…♪

Kuro: I’m a lost cause, but it’d still be nice if I could remember at least a little.

Keito: Now then, I’ll be quizzing you using questions related to the sections you read up to, Kiryu.

Kuro: You seriously…? Go easy on me, wouldja?

Keito: An easy question, got it…

Keito: Who was the ‘first Sengoku daimyo’, otherwise known as the founder of the ‘Later Hojo clan’?

Kuro: ……?

Keito: Your hints are ‘Insurrection’ and ‘Odawara Castle’.

Kuro: …… Uhhh. Was it Hojo Soun? ¹

Keito: Correct! The results of your studies were immediately apparent……♪

Kuro: Was it really the studyin’, or some sorta fluke? Felt like I had to scrape the insides of my brain for an answer.

Kuro: Studyin’ just this one bit made my head hurt. Even if ya squeezed it down to just the bits highlighted with marker, readin’ this whole book is gonna be like breakin’ every bone in my body…

Keito: What are you talking about? This won’t end with one book. Here, look.

Kuro: Huh? S’that a glossary of World History…?

Kuro: No, wait, hold on! If we got the job ‘cause we’re a Japanese style unit, then there’s no point in studying World History…!

Keito: That might be true, but because the questions cover ‘History’...... We can’t afford to neglect World History.

Kuro: (Has he already highlighted the World History book too? I’m sure Hasumi doesn’t have a lot of free time in the first place, so I’m sure that means he’s doin’ all of this for our sake.)

Kuro: …… Ah jeez.

Kuro: I’m not sure if I’ll even be able to reach World History at this rate, but since you’ve gone this far for me, I’ll study with ya till the very end, danna.

Translation Notes

Obligatory link to Hojo Soun's Wikipedia page. The title of 'First Sengoku Daimyo' feels confusing because there were other Daimyo at the time, but Hojo Soun was the first to seize a territory with military force without deferring to the Shogunate. (Something that characterized Daimyo in the Sengoku Era was that they did as they pleased)

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Bill Prutt for Slate:

On Jan. 8, 2004, just more than 20 years ago, the first episode of The Apprentice aired. It was called “Meet the Billionaire,” and 18 million people watched. The episodes that followed climbed to roughly 20 million each week. A staggering 28 million viewers tuned in to watch the first season finale. The series won an Emmy nomination for Outstanding Reality-Competition Program, and the Television Critics Association called it one of the best TV shows of the year, alongside The Sopranos and Arrested Development. The series—alongside its bawdy sibling, The Celebrity Apprentice—appeared on NBC in coveted prime-time slots for more than a decade. The Apprentice was an instant success in another way too. It elevated Donald J. Trump from sleazy New York tabloid hustler to respectable household name. In the show, he appeared to demonstrate impeccable business instincts and unparalleled wealth, even though his businesses had barely survived multiple bankruptcies and faced yet another when he was cast. By carefully misleading viewers about Trump—his wealth, his stature, his character, and his intent—the competition reality show set about an American fraud that would balloon beyond its creators’ wildest imaginations.

I should know. I was one of four producers involved in the first two seasons. During that time, I signed an expansive nondisclosure agreement that promised a fine of $5 million and even jail time if I were to ever divulge what actually happened. It expired this year. No one involved in The Apprentice—from the production company or the network, to the cast and crew—was involved in a con with malicious intent. It was a TV show, and it was made for entertainment. I still believe that. But we played fast and loose with the facts, particularly regarding Trump, and if you were one of the 28 million who tuned in, chances are you were conned. As Trump answers for another of his alleged deception schemes in New York and gears up to try to persuade Americans to elect him again, in part thanks to the myth we created, I can finally tell you what making Trump into what he is today looked like from my side. Most days were revealing. Some still haunt me, two decades later. [...]

Now, this is important. The Apprentice is a game show regulated by the Federal Communications Commission. In the 1950s, scandals arose when producers of quiz shows fed answers to likable, ratings-generating contestants while withholding those answers from unlikable but truly knowledgeable players. Any of us involved in The Apprentice swinging the outcome of prize money by telling Trump whom to fire is forbidden. [...]

Trump goes about knocking off every one of the contestants in the boardroom until only two remain. The finalists are Kwame Jackson, a Black broker from Goldman Sachs, and Bill Rancic, a white entrepreneur from Chicago who runs his own cigar business. Trump assigns them each a task devoted to one of his crown-jewel properties. Jackson will oversee a Jessica Simpson benefit concert at Trump Taj Mahal Casino in Atlantic City, while Rancic will oversee a celebrity golf tournament at Trump National Golf Club in Briarcliff Manor, New York. Viewers need to believe that whatever Trump touches turns to gold. These properties that bear his name are supposed to glitter and gleam. All thanks to him.

Reality is another matter altogether. The lights in the casino’s sign are out. Hong Kong investors actually own the place—Trump merely lends his name. The carpet stinks, and the surroundings for Simpson’s concert are ramshackle at best. We shoot around all that. Both Rancic and Jackson do a round-robin recruitment of former contestants, and Jackson makes the fateful decision to team up with the notorious Omarosa, among others, to help him carry out his final challenge. [...]

Trump will make his decision live on camera months later, so what we are about to film is the setup to that reveal. The race between Jackson and Rancic should seem close, and that’s how we’ll edit the footage. Since we don’t know who’ll be chosen, it must appear close, even if it’s not.

We lay out the virtues and deficiencies of each finalist to Trump in a fair and balanced way, but sensing the moment at hand, Kepcher sort of comes out of herself. She expresses how she observed Jackson at the casino overcoming more obstacles than Rancic, particularly with the way he managed the troublesome Omarosa. Jackson, Kepcher maintains, handled the calamity with grace. “I think Kwame would be a great addition to the organization,” Kepcher says to Trump, who winces while his head bobs around in reaction to what he is hearing and clearly resisting. “Why didn’t he just fire her?” Trump asks, referring to Omarosa. It’s a reasonable question. Given that this the first time we’ve ever been in this situation, none of this is something we expected. “That’s not his job,” Bienstock says to Trump. “That’s yours.” Trump’s head continues to bob. “I don’t think he knew he had the ability to do that,” Kepcher says. Trump winces again.

“Yeah,” he says to no one in particular, “but, I mean, would America buy a n— winning?” Kepcher’s pale skin goes bright red. I turn my gaze toward Trump. He continues to wince. He is serious, and he is adamant about not hiring Jackson. Bienstock does a half cough, half laugh, and swiftly changes the topic or throws to Ross for his assessment. What happens next I don’t entirely recall. I am still processing what I have just heard. We all are. Only Bienstock knows well enough to keep the train moving. None of us thinks to walk out the door and never return. I still wish I had. (Bienstock and Kepcher didn’t respond to requests for comment.) Afterward, we film the final meeting in the boardroom, where Jackson and Rancic are scrutinized by Trump, who, we already know, favors Rancic. Then we wrap production, pack up, and head home. There is no discussion about what Trump said in the boardroom, about how the damning evidence was caught on tape. Nothing happens.

We attend to our thesis that only the best and brightest deserve a job working for Donald Trump. Luckily, the winner, Bill Rancic, and his rival, Kwame Jackson, come off as capable and confident throughout the season. If for some reason they had not, we would have conveniently left their shortcomings on the cutting room floor. In actuality, both men did deserve to win. Without a doubt, the hardest decisions we faced in postproduction were how to edit together sequences involving Trump. We needed him to sound sharp, dignified, and clear on what he was looking for and not as if he was yelling at people. You see him today: When he reads from a teleprompter, he comes off as loud and stoic. Go to one of his rallies and he’s the off-the-cuff rambler rousing his followers into a frenzy. While filming, he struggled to convey even the most basic items. But as he became more comfortable with filming, Trump made raucous comments he found funny or amusing—some of them misogynistic as well as racist. We cut those comments. Go to one of his rallies today and you can hear many of them.

If you listen carefully, especially to that first episode, you will notice clearly altered dialogue from Trump in both the task delivery and the boardroom. Trump was overwhelmed with remembering the contestants’ names, the way they would ride the elevator back upstairs or down to the street, the mechanics of what he needed to convey. Bienstock instigated additional dialogue recording that came late in the edit phase. We set Trump up in the soundproof boardroom set and fed him lines he would read into a microphone with Bienstock on the phone, directing from L.A. And suddenly Trump knows the names of every one of the contestants and says them while the camera cuts to each of their faces. Wow, you think, how does he remember everyone’s name? While on location, he could barely put a sentence together regarding how a task would work. Listen now, and he speaks directly to what needs to happen while the camera conveniently cuts away to the contestants, who are listening and nodding. He sounds articulate and concise through some editing sleight of hand.

Then comes the note from NBC about the fact that after Trump delivers the task assignment to the contestants, he disappears from the episode after the first act and doesn’t show up again until the next-to-last. That’s too long for the (high-priced) star of the show to be absent. There is a convenient solution. At the top of the second act, right after the task has been assigned but right before the teams embark on their assignment, we insert a sequence with Trump, seated inside his gilded apartment, dispensing a carefully crafted bit of wisdom. He speaks to whatever the theme of each episode is—why someone gets fired or what would lead to a win. The net effect is not only that Trump appears once more in each episode but that he also now seems prophetic in how he just knows the way things will go right or wrong with each individual task. He comes off as all-seeing and all-knowing. We are led to believe that Donald Trump is a natural-born leader.

Through the editorial nudge we provide him, Trump prevails. So much so that NBC asks for more time in the boardroom to appear at the end of all the remaining episodes. (NBC declined to comment for this article.) [... So, we scammed. We swindled. Nobody heard the racist and misogynistic comments or saw the alleged cheating, the bluffing, or his hair taking off in the wind. Those tapes, I’ve come to believe, will never be found.

No one lost their retirement fund or fell on hard times from watching The Apprentice. But Trump rose in stature to the point where he could finally eye a run for the White House, something he had intended to do all the way back in 1998. Along the way, he could now feed his appetite for defrauding the public with various shady practices. In 2005 thousands of students enrolled in what was called Trump University, hoping to gain insight from the Donald and his “handpicked” professors. Each paid as much as $35,000 to listen to some huckster trade on Trump’s name. In a sworn affidavit, salesman Ronald Schnackenberg testified that Trump University was “fraudulent.” The scam swiftly went from online videoconferencing courses to live events held by high-pressure sales professionals whose only job was to persuade attendees to sign up for the course. The sales were for the course “tuition” and had nothing whatsoever to do with real estate investments. A class action suit was filed against Trump.

That same year, Trump was caught bragging to Access Hollywood co-host Billy Bush that he likes to grab married women “by the pussy,” adding, “When you’re a star, they let you do it.” He later tried to recruit porn actor Stormy Daniels for The Apprentice despite her profession and, according to Daniels, had sex with her right after his last son was born. (His alleged attempt to pay off Daniels is, of course, the subject of his recent trial.) In October 2016—a month before the election—the Access Hollywood tapes were released and written off as “locker room banter.” Trump paid Daniels to keep silent about their alleged affair. He paid $25 million to settle the Trump University lawsuit and make it go away. He went on to become the first elected president to possess neither public service nor military experience. And although he lost the popular vote, Trump beat out Hillary Clinton in the Electoral College, winning in the Rust Belt by just 80,000 votes.

Trump has been called the “reality TV president,” and not just because of The Apprentice. The Situation Room, where top advisers gathered, became a place for photo-ops, a bigger, better boardroom. Trump swaggered and cajoled, just as he had on the show. Whom would he listen to? Whom would he fire? Stay tuned. Trump even has his own spinoff, called the House of Representatives, where women hurl racist taunts and body-shame one another with impunity. The State of the Union is basically a cage fight. The demands of public office now include blowhard buffoonery.

Bill Pruitt wrote in Slate that Donald Trump used the N-word on the set of NBC's The Apprentice in 2004 when referring to a Black contestant (Kwame Jackson)'s chances of winning the competition by saying "would America buy a n***er winning?"

This is yet another example of Trump's long record of anti-Black racism that dates back to the 1970s.

[madlysage]

my stardew valley bachelorette headcanons… again super niche and definitely just me being insufferable

leah

- grew up in the south and still has a little twang when she speaks

- loves fleetwood mac and all 70s rock

- tried to make her own wine and elliott made harvey give her a stern lecture on botulism

- a serial dater with a string of bad ex-boyfriends in her wake (she was just a lesbian all along but that wasn’t accepted where she was growing up)

- a baby gay who still gets flustered when flirting with girls

- befriended the hat mouse and is still trying to convince elliott that he’s real

- dyes her hair but insists she’s a natural redhead (her mom was one and she always wanted to emulate her)

i always picture kennedy walsh (icon that she is)

haley

- the closet is glass babe (lesbian/possibly pan)

- wanted to go to college for photography and studio art but was worried it would put financial strain on emily

- secret little crush on leah because she loves her art and her artistic eye

- her and emily were raised by a single dad who passed away unexpectedly- it’s part of the reason she has a hard time opening up to ppl

- left anonymous mean notes about clint on the town message board for WEEKS after she found out he was hitting on emily

- uses her dad’s camera: it’s very sentimental to her

perf- would def be into clean girl makeup

emily

- nobody is quite sure about emily’s sexuality… including emily!

- very into spirituality- crystals, spirits, astrology, luck etc.

- makes alex uncomfortable anytime he comes over: she doesn’t realize she’s starting contentious political debates with him

- makes all her own clothes and hasn’t bought anything new in 3 years

- writes sweet notes to shane on the bar napkins when she can see he’s rlly going through it

- wears crystals in her bras

- stole haley’s diamond earrings for a gem mediation (it did not go over well)

- makes elliott quills with her parrot’s dropped feathers

but picture the hair blue ya know: don’t cast elle fanning as a character in a fandom challenge level impossible bro

penny

- bicon

- my image of penny is Filipino… stardew needs more diversity gonna be so real

- went to college for education and got her teaching license but had to move back home because of the debt

- learned how to do maru’s hair after she complained about how long it took

- watches old movies with maru every weekend and they do a book swap once a month

- sam is the only one who will eat her cooking (but he’ll eat anything… especially if penny made it)

- lets maru come in and give guest teaching sessions in science and math to jas and vincent

-started drinking coffee just to have an excuse to drop some off to maru and harvey at work

likeeeee beabadoobee just makes the perf penny i can’t explain it’s the vibe

maru

- lesbian queen

- my autistic love

- graduated highschool early: got a full ride to school and double majored in nursing and engineering before going to nursing school (graduated early from that too ofc)

- lives off of coffee and gets a daily lecture on caffeine consumption from harvey

- is harvey’s wingman (neither of them have any rizz…)

- goes to the bar just to quiz emily on astrology

- sets up ferris beuller type traps when she wants to sneak out and not deal with demetrius

-used to sneak into sebastian’s room during thunderstorms and still does sometimes

laura harrier my love my light… just picture her with glasses

abigail

- straight but likes to makeout with girls when she’s drunk

- goes to college online (majoring in business for pierre but double minoring in classics and anthropology) - her parents wouldn’t let her go in person because she’s too “reckless”

- brought home a squirrel once and hid it in her room for weeks

-used to do competitive irish dance as a kid (seems like something caroline would make her do)

- has a huge crush on sam and will flirt with sebastian to make him jealous

- pierced her own ears six times at once and made caroline faint when she saw her

- has a tattoo on her thigh that’s she’s desperately hiding from her parents

-helped emily dye her hair for the first time

- hooked up with alex once but will never admit it

can’t explain it she just gives kiernan - with purple hair ofc

[focusnicole]

oct. 22, 2024

its homecoming week !! theres lots of activities going on for my clubs this week, including making at least four dozen cookies thursday for one of the competitions. im excited, but i also have a very big presentation thursday that im sooo nervous about. im dropping the class anyway since it doesn't fit anywhere in my major, but i’d hate to screw over my partners since its a group project. we worked on it a lot today !!

i’ve stopped tracking what i eat for the time being. i track to keep myself healthy and to focus on what im putting in my body, but its been a hassle to keep up with recently when all i have the time for is assignments, eating, and getting some sleep. 

i've also been looking into new jobs. i love my coworkers at my current job, but im getting scheduled less and less hours and its making it hard to cover all of my expenses. i may go to work with one of my friends, but we’ll see !! i’d feel like im abandoning my current place of work ;; i’ve been there for almost a year and a half now and have liked it a lot– it just doesn’t get the traffic to cover everything. 

random note: been watching 9-1-1: lonestar with my roommates and these people stress me out so bad </3

✦ got done ;

worked on rough draft of sociology project slides

french reading

studied french phrases for quiz tomorrow

poetry reading for creative writing

checked in at hoco week events

✦ the best parts ;

making my own iced coffee

maxi skirts

google calendar colors

relaxing youtube videos

coffee. lots of it. 

brown mascara

yummy caf dinner + snow cones

kitty socks + minecraft boxers 

yapping with classmates 

✦ trackers ;

sleep: 8 hrs 30 mins

water: 34 / 68 oz

protein: paused

study hours: 6 hours

screen time: 5 hrs 45 mins

[callmearcturus]

i'm writing a quick, fast lasso fic and Punct really liked the opening bit so i'm sharing it

Now, no one was happier than Theodore Lasso that Roy had managed to hash it all out with Trent, that was for sure. It was maybe a bit strange of him to admit given how far up in the years Roy was getting, but Ted was proud of him for managing to find a measure of peace.

There were plenty of times that Ted admired Roy's tenacity and growling and all that. He was a man quick to swing the axe but just as quick to accept an apology. It reminded Ted of back home, the way the farmers along I-70 would take chainsaws and tractors, felling the trees every couple of years before lighting the field on fire.

The very first time he saw it from the backseat of the car, he'd gasped and pointed. Then, his uncle had explained about controlled burns, how you had to let the field go to smoke sometimes. It kept the whole farm from burning down if someone threw out a lit cigarette from the car window into a drought-stricken grass.

Roy's anger was a hatchet, cutting down everything in range.

But the next time they were all in the office together, when Trent cautiously stepped up to lean on the doorframe, Ted saw the way Roy looked at him, how the fire had burned out, how only smoke remained.

It was a relief, because as Ted admitted to Beard, "I was startin' to get real concerned, like I was gonna have to step in there and convince the team to roll out the welcome mat."

"Which obviously could have backfired," Beard continued smoothly, immediately understanding. "High-risk maneuver, coach."

"You know that's right. If I pulled it off, I was gonna call name it, you know like how gymnasts get to name skills if they pull 'em off."

Beard gave him a withering glance. "Gotta pull them off at an international competition, coach."

Ted frowned. "Well, I'm an American and--" Already, Beard was shaking his head. "Well, shoot, coach, I was real lookin' forward to the Biles-5 or whatever we're up to now."

"You can't decide to name it for someone else."

"You know I'm startin' to feel a bit like Streisand in '64 and '68."

"Sorry for raining on your parade twice."

The particulars of the gymnastics Code of Points aside, things were looking up for the team and their new bespectacled chronicler. Forget the parade, it was all feeling right as rain.

Well. It did at first, anyway.

.

(Punct read this and was like how you research references for beard and ted, and I'm like "actually it's only two pieces of research. i knew I wanted to reference gymnastic skill naming convention and Beard would absolutely know the minutiae of the rules. then organically I got to a point in the dialogue when Ted said 'rain on my parade' which happens to be a song from a musical that got turned into a movie-musical, so I looked up the year of the musical and the movie, boom, there's Ted's reference"

also, the thing about Beard and Ted is that.... I frequently joke that my own writing style is "why use 3 words when i can use 10" but Beard and Ted are "why not 25 words." Call 'em Tony Hawk bc they are playing Don't Explain The Joke goofy-style: the explain the joke FIRST, and THEN they use that explanation as a test for each other and the answer to the quiz is the actual joke/reference.

Also I grew up in Missouri, outside of Kansas City. I was unfortunately preordained by fate to write Ted Lasso fic.)

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Why Are Seers Always Cursed? (2)

Wesley Weston is a son of Apollo with the rare gift of prophecy.

Written for @crossoverdanuary Week 2024, Day 3: Percy Jackson | Lake

This takes place shortly before Annabeth, Luke, and Thalia arrive at Camp Half-Blood, and while Wes is still in middle school, meaning it's set before the primary canon events of both series. You can also read it on AO3.

Chapter 2: Camp Orientation

Previous | Next

[No Warnings Apply]

New York City was nothing like Amity Park. If Wes thought the buildings back home were pretty tall, the skyscrapers here were gargantuan. He was half worried they'd fall over at that height, like a Jenga tower. It smelled worse than Amity Park too. Maybe it was just because of the steadily increasing heat, but the place smelled like sweat and garbage.

"Come on Wesley, no time to waste," Melvin said, ushering him onto the shuttle out of the airport.

"I told you, it's just Wes," he repeated for probably the sixth time. "So how far is this Camp Half-Blood place, anyway?"

The two of them had had the chance to talk on their flight, and Melvin had explained everything. Wes hadn't wanted to believe it at first, but after listening for a while, it started to make sense.

"You mean Apollo wasn't a stage name?" Wes had asked. "That was the real, actual Apollo? No way, that's ridiculous."

"When he sent a message to camp asking for a searcher to go get you, he said that you had inherited the gift of prophecy," Melvin had said. "Haven't you ever felt or seen things before they happened? Had dreams or visions that ended up being true?"

Wes' mind had instantly gone to how he'd known that his mother was going to meet Apollo again. But then he'd started to remember other things. That time his dad had gotten fired, and he'd used his saved-up allowance to buy a consolation cake on the way home from school, even though he couldn't have known until he got home and his dad told them about it. Somehow, he'd just known that something bad had happened and his dad would need a pick-me-up.

He'd thought about how he always somehow knew when there would be a pop-quiz at school. Even about how, when he was little, he never lost a game of Guess Who. How he hadn't been surprised when he'd learned his dad wasn't really his dad, how he'd almost been expecting the news. He'd known when Easton's college acceptance letter came in the mail, and when Kyle was going to eat it and break his arm during a skateboarding competition.

All this time, Wes had attributed it to coincidence, or lucky guesses, but... could it really be prophetic knowledge?

"I can see by your expression you know exactly what I'm talking about," Melvin had said. "But prophecy is a rare and highly coveted ability. Honestly, Apollo should have called us to pick you up years ago. You're just lucky you never made the connection before, because if you knew, they'd be able to smell it on you."

"They?"

"Monsters," Melvin had clarified. "The ones from the Greek myths, harpies, cyclopes, basilisks, all them. They're all real. A demigod with the gift of prophecy like you is in even more danger than most. I mean, any demigod is in danger of being attacked and killed by monsters, but you? You they might keep alive as a prisoner, using you for your ability, and that's arguably worse."

Wes had swallowed, suddenly a bundle of nerves.

"Don't worry, though, once we get to camp, you'll be fine," Melvin had said. "There, you'll learn how to fight and protect yourself, and you'll be protected, too."

"Right...."

Wes was jumpy as they took the shuttle to the city and then the bus to Long Island. After Melvin had explained the mist to him, he looked at everything and everyone like they might be out to get him. He'd never been so paranoid in his life. But him being a demigod explained more than just his apparent precognition. 

Back when he was in grade school, he could have sworn on his life that their neighbor's huge quote-unquote "dog" was not a normal dog. It's eyes glowed sometimes, and out of the corner of his eye it always looked to have horns, but they would disappear when he looked directly at it. It always growled at him when he passed, and one day, he took the long way home and snuck in through the back door because he somehow knew that if he took his usual route that dog was going to attack him.

The day after that, the neighbor took her dog and moved out suddenly. He never saw either of them again.

How many other monster-dogs and monster-people had he missed because he didn't know he should look for them? How many times had he narrowly avoided death because he had a gut feeling that made him take a different route home or fake sick to get out of school?

"Stop that," Melvin whispered.

"Huh?"

"It's good to be vigilant, but if you assume everyone is a monster, you'll drive yourself crazy," he clarified. "Our stop's coming up, and from there is a bit of a walk, but it's usually pretty quiet. Just try to stay calm. We're in the home stretch."

Right.

Trying to stay calm failed spectacularly. Wes spent the whole walk from the bus stop to the camp more anxious than he'd ever been. He felt like every shadow, and even the wind blowing through the trees was going to come after him. Melvin was right. It was driving him crazy.

"You know, this is going really smoothly," Melvin said after a while. "I mean, I said the walk would be quiet, but usually we searchers find demigods because they're being attacked or something. It's not often that a god actually comes by camp to tell us to pick up his kid and gives us an exact address. 

"Of course, it's not often a demigod inherits the gift of prophecy either. In fact, I think the last one was born in the 1890s, if I remember right. It's almost as rare as a child of Hephaestus being able to control fire. I guess I should have expected your case to be different—it was certainly better planned and scheduled. I would have expected more danger though."

Suddenly, Wes felt a hot feeling shoot through him. "Wait," he said stopping in his tracks. He looked around, scanning what he could see of the horizon. "We should go a different way."

"Why? Did you see something?"

"No I felt..." Wes suddenly felt silly again. There was no reason to change course because of a feeling. Then again... he did supposedly have the gift of prophecy. Maybe it wasn't just a feeling after all. "I felt like I was standing next to a bonfire for a second. I think if we keep going this way, we'll get burned."

"It could be more dangerous if we stray from the path but... who am I to argue with a seer," Melvin said. "We'll go this way."

With that, Melvin led him just past the trees that lined the road. After about thirty minutes, they heard a distant roar in the direction the road would have been, and Melvin stopped to smell the air.

"Definitely a monster," he said.

A plume of fire shot into the sky.

"A drakon, I think. It would have been bad if we'd run into it." He looked down at Wes, a little incredulously. "I'll be damned. Did you know?"

"Not exactly," Wes said. "Like I told you, I felt fire, and a strong sense that it was related to the direction we were headed. That's all."

"I guess that's all we needed," Melvin said. "Huh...." The look he fixed Wes with next was curious, almost hungry. It made the redhead squirm. "Anyway, camp's not much farther now. If the drakon's heading that way, we should warn them."

A few minutes more, and they reached the crest of a hill.

In the valley on the other side was a summer camp. Wes could see an amphitheater, a large blue farmhouse with a wraparound porch, a cluster of maybe a dozen cabins, give or take, and a little ways away a place with about a dozen long, white picnic tables. Campers ranging from about seven-or-eight to their late teens were scattered about doing an odd mix of normal camp activities and intense-looking combat training.

"Welcome to Camp Half-Blood," Melvin said brightly. "Come on, we should warn Chiron about the drakon."

Melvin led Wes down to the blue farmhouse, where he met the camp director, Mr. D, and a centaur named Chiron, who apparently was the actual camp director. Melvin quickly introduced Wes to both of them as the child of Apollo who could see the future, and then told them about the drakon they'd avoided on their way there.

"Thank you, Mr. Barkley, I'll take him from here," Chiron said, and he led Wes toward the cabins.

"Another one for cabin eleven?" A wiry-looking girl of about sixteen asked.

"Sorry, Robin, this one's been claimed by Apollo already," Chiron told her. Then he looked back at Wes. "Robin is the head counselor of the Hermes Cabin. Since Hermes is the god of travelers, that's where campers who haven't been claimed, or who were claimed by a god other than the twelve Olympians stay. We know who your godly parent is, so you'll be staying in cabin seven, the Apollo Cabin, along with the other children of Apollo.

"Apollo's head counselor, Archer, will show you around camp," he finished as he stopped in front of a cabin with the number seven hanging over the door. "Now, please excuse me, I must inform the Ares Cabin of the potential threat."

Wes waited for him to leave before knocking on the cabin door.

"If that's you, Robin, fuck off!" a voice called from inside.

"It's not!" Wes called back awkwardly.

A few seconds later, a boy about the same age as Kyle answered the door. He was about average height and build with brown skin and dark brown hair tied back into a short ponytail.

"Who're you?" he asked.

"Uh... I'm Wes Weston," Wes answered. "Chiron told me to come here."

"You're a son of Apollo?"

"I guess."

"Archer Gutierrez," he introduced. "I'm head of the Apollo Cabin, nice to meet you. Sorry about the language. Come on in."

Inside, there were bunk beds on either side with a cot in the middle of the cabin for some reason. It smelled of clean linen and dried sage. Rough wooden beams ribbed the ceiling and the white plaster walls were mostly bare, except for a few hooks, even though there were paintings and wall hangings all over the floor.

"Sorry, Robin keeps breaking in and taking everything off the walls for literally no reason," Archer explained. "We have set so many traps and stuff to stop her, but she keeps getting past them somehow. Either we're gonna have to escalate to putting in landmines like the Ares Cabin, or just stop hanging stuff on the walls altogether, because this is ridiculous. I mean it's basically harmless, but it's super annoying. Can you put that bow back up over there?"

"Are the Apollo and Hermes cabins, like, rivals or something?" Wes asked, lifting an intricately carved bow off the floor and resting it on a set of hooks Archer had pointed to.

"No, not really," he replied. "It's just Robin. I think she's still pissed that I broke up with her a couple months ago. She said she was cool with it, but she still keeps breaking into cabin seven to make a mess, so I don't know."

"Weren't you in school a couple months ago?" Wes asked. "I thought this was just a summer camp?"

"Some of us stay here year round, if we don't have anywhere else to go, or if we don't want to go," Archer answered with a shrug.

The two of them finished hanging everything back up in relative silence, broken up only by Archer's humming and Wes occasionally asking where something was supposed to go. Once they were done, Archer took him out for the grand tour. The cabins, the dining pavilion, the camp store, the forge, the amphitheater, the arts and crafts room, the archery range, the music classroom, the infirmary, the arena. 

He mostly focused on the places where Apollo campers tended to hang out, unsurprisingly. Apparently Wes would be expected to help out in the infirmary sometimes, since Apollo was the god of medicine, even though the most Wes knew about medicine came from Kyle bribing him to help patch up skateboarding injuries before their dad found out.

It seemed the camp and camp activities were pretty much completely divided based on godly parent. In the dining pavilion, they had to sit at their godly parent's table, and weren't allowed to sit at someone else's. They did camp activities in groups with other people who shared their godly parent. They weren't allowed to enter cabins that weren't their own—though obviously that didn't stop Robin. The way Archer explained it made it sound like these rules were pretty strict though.

Then Wes saw something out of the corner of his eye. "Huh?"

"What? You have a question?" Archer asked.

"No, I just thought I saw... nevermind. Must've been a trick of the light." For a moment, Wes thought he saw a large pine tree at the top of the hill. But there was obviously no pine tree there.

"Come on, I'll show you the volleyball court."

"I prefer basketball."

"I'll bet you do," Archer snorted. "Apollo cabin has pick-up games from time to time. It gets pretty intense. The record for farthest score is 165 feet from the hoop."

"Really?" Wes said. "That's amazing. That's more than a full court shot. That's almost two courts."

"Everyone knows Apollo kids have the best aim. That was two year ago, though, and no one's been able to match it yet, not even the guy who did it."

Wes stopped in his tracks. The hot feeling had returned, this time on the back of his neck. He turned around and saw the camp border directly behind him. 

"It's coming here," he said.

"Huh?"

"What do you guys do when a monster attacks?" he asked instead of clarifying.

"Ares cabin usually takes the front lines with the other cabins providing backup," Archer explained. "Apollo cabin grabs our bows and arrows and retreats to high ground to lay down cover fire."

"You should get ready to do that, then."

"Huh? Why?" he asked, cocking his head in confusion. "We can't know when a monster will attack until it does, so there's no point freaking out about it, ri..." he trailed off when he caught sight of the entire Ares cabin fully armed and armored and heading up the hill. "That's strange, usually they only send a few guards at a time to act as lookouts, but I haven't heard the lookouts say anything." 

Just as the rest of Ares Cabin reached the top of the hill, the lookouts started to shout.

"Drakon approaching!" They screamed as loud as they could.

"How did you know?" Archer asked Wes, not moving.

"Shouldn't you get your bow?"

"Right, but this is not the end of this conversation!" He started running to tell the other Apollo campers to get ready.

As Wes looked back up to the hilltop, to the Ares campers charging down at the monster, for a moment, he saw that pine tree again, stretching up toward the heavens. Then he blinked, and it was gone. It hadn't been there in the first place.

[mciat]

Welcome to my study blog! Here, I’ll be documenting my methods, motivations, struggles, and moments as a student.

School starts in a month (July 8) sooo letzgo🔥💪🏻🔥🔥💪🏻

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Me

- My name is Cia

- I am a 9th grade student

- I’m from 🇵🇭‼️🔥

- i love art and dancing🫶

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Acads

Previously (8th grade)

With High Honors

General average of 96

Highest grades : 99 in Social Studies(History) and ESP (Edukasyon sa Pagpapakatao, basically just values education)

Joined many campus competitions such as mural painting, character impersonation, various quiz bees, logo designing, headdress making, cheerleading, etc

Was an active member of our english/theatre club

No sports😭😭

Usually slept 4-6 hours a night (2-4 hours during exam/ performance task szn)

Lazy af ngl😭😭😭 (Spent more time on the phone than studying)

Goals for 9th grade

With Highest Honors

General average of 98+

I’m the incoming department secretary of issues and advocacies in the student council, so I wish to make many successful projects within the schoolyear🫶

Fixed sleep schedule (7-8 hrs a night)

Keep the same level of activities as last year

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I’ll be documenting my acad-related stuff thru-out the whole school year and maybe ask for/share some advice. Pls follow me or interact with this post if you have similar goals as I do! I’d love to make new friends on this app🫶

[jackhkeynes]

American History Quiz

from the 1930 book Prove your Knowledge!, a part of the series Games for Sorties and Excourses. This was a collection of casual party games compiled and published by Merch couple Anna and Ralph Highwater through the Royal Tommarth Castinghouse.

History XI: The Novomund (answers on sheet 236)

Which emperor of Tavancy [~the Inca], whose 61-year reign from 1599 until 1660 is the longest of any monarch in Cappatian history, is suspected to have been assasinated by Morrack [Morrocan] agents in order to be able to increase the volume and decrease the price of silver exports?

For whom were the Sturgovan [Appalachian] Mountains named?

With which Mendevan people did the nascent polity of New Provence principally trade during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries?

In what year was the Steeplepost Tapestry in the Ambrosian city of Aiga d'Angoixa [~Quebec City] erected, the first device capable of displaying an image communicated via the steeplemesh?

What astronomical event inspired the naming of the major Mashick city of Moshtar [~San Francisco] in 1780?

What property of matter was discovered by the Cappatian city of Varonøw [~Vitória, ES]'s Nÿstad Atellier in 1902?

Which was the first of the staddomains [colonial tradeposts] along the eastern Cappatian coast to be established, with an official chronicle dating to 1561?

A predecessor to the Lineball Global Tourney, what was the name of the international lineball competition first held in Awasúconda [~Paraná] in 1909 between twenty teams?

Which was the only Novomundine polity to have a delegation present at the signing of the Laic Declarations in Belgrade?

What was the name of the first Chinese ship to alight in the Novomund?