#also fuck credit hours all my friends hate credit hours. just call them classes just say one class it's a lot easier than 3 credit hours

[rosesradio]

.

[mypimpademia]

— Realistic Random Headcanons

Ft. Bakugo and Izuku

Synopsis: Random headcanons (general and romantic) for Bakugo and Izuku that I feel like make more sense based on their canon characters

TW: Swearing, topics of mental health (depression and anxiety nothing super dark though)

Note: Credit to @4kh for helping me with these :) btw these are just my personal interpretations of the characters and what I think makes sense following their canons instead of fanon (I also use their fanon personas a lot but again these are what I feel like would actually make more sense!)

— BAKUGO

⇶ Realistically, I feel like Katsuki would be aroace

⇶ At first, it comes off as him simply being too goal driven and motivated to make space in his life for romance

⇶ But truthfully, all his life he simply never related to how his peers would trip over their feet because of a crush

⇶ Sure, he found people pretty or handsome, but he could never find it in him to become even the slightest bit romantically invested

⇶ He tried to, just to feel what others around him felt for even a moment, but It never worked

⇶ At first, he chopped it up to simply not finding the right person. But as he got older and as he went through high school still never having any sort of attraction to anyone, he accepted that romantic attraction was simply something he wasn’t into

⇶ Struggles with depression and anxiety

⇶ It all started when he got to UA. Constantly having your life under threat, feeling like you ended the career of your idol, not feeling good enough, and more, take a toll on you.

⇶ Katsuki’s depression is not at all visible, you have to really know him to tell. He puts on a tough guy act and does what he needs to do, but he feels like a zombie

⇶ He’d much rather rot away in bed most days than even think about training, but he knows it’ll do him no good

⇶ Since he grew up with people always telling him how strong he is, he tries to gaslight himself into thinking he’s not depressed. He knows he is, but as long as he’s going about life like all is good and well, he’s not (to him at least)

⇶ His anxiety stems from getting kidnapped and having his life personally threatened on multiple occasions from such a young age

⇶ He’s always looking over his shoulder, afraid that someone is going to come out and make an attempt on his life

⇶ Katsuki would talk about it to someone, but he’s scared that getting too close to people would also put their lives in danger, and the thought of letting people know that he’s secretly weak physically pains him

⇶ As he gets older, he realizes how fucked up it all was that those things were happening to not just him, but his classmates as well. And yet, they were still expected to go back to class and act as of all was well after almost being killed not even 24 hours prior

⇶ Holds a lot of resentment towards Nezu and other higher ups, he wishes they would have at least put them through therapy after everything.

⇶ However, he doesn’t have any bad blood with Aizawa or All Might or any of his teachers over it because he understands that certain things were out of even their power, and that if they could’ve they would’ve. Some of them gave their lives protecting students, they shouldn’t be at blame

⇶ It’s not secret that Katsuki has an aggressive nature, but he is a very caring and compassionate person, and he tries to make an effort to show it even if it come off a bit harsh

⇶ Calls his friends dumb, extras, and says he hates them, but thankfully, many of them know that he doesn’t really mean it

⇶ And if they don’t know, they will eventually because his actions speak much louder than his words

⇶ Katsuki remembers birthdays, special events, always comes through when invited to things, gives thoughtful gifts, and more

⇶ He takes on all love languages (accept words of affirmation, that’ll take him some time) when giving affection towards others

⇶ The love language that takes all for him is physical touch

⇶ But unfortunately, he’s very adverse to being touched because of trauma, and only makes physical contact with family and close friends

⇶ When he does give an occasional hug, he makes it last and you’ll know it’s special (he gives really good hugs too)

⇶ It seems far fetched, but Katsuki actually doesn’t like to yell

⇶ Yes, he yells a lot, a majority of the time in fact

⇶ But it’s always over really dumb or unnecessary things, and that’s the entire point.

⇶ When Katsuki is serious about something, or genuinely angry, he hardly even raises his voice

⇶ He’s smarter than that, and knows it’ll only aggravate the situation

⇶ Very self aware, and because of that, he knows he can have a temper! Always takes a moment to himself when something upsets him, and then comes back later to talk about it properly so he can avoid blowing up at the other person

⇶ This is especially the case if it’s someone close to him, Katsuki would hate to damage a good relationship over something that can be resolved

⇶ If the other person keeps pressuring him as he’s trying to take time for himself, then yes, he will raise his voice. But it’s more firm than anything, and he does it to get them to give him space

⇶ If they keep pushing, or he just very in the heat of the moment, he will start yelling

⇶ Katsuki doesn’t like to go to bed angry either

⇶ Always make sure that his issue with someone else is resolved as quickly as possible, because if it’s not, it most likely never will be

⇶ If he’s in the wrong, he’ll acknowledges it and apologizes… in his own way

⇶ Normally, his apologies consist of him being overly attentive towards the person over the next few days until he feels like they aren’t upset with him anymore and he no longer feels guilty

⇶ On the surface level, Katsuki is your average arrogant, ambitious, hot head, but there’s a lot more to his simple facade

— MIDORIYA

⇶ Such a lover boy and hopeless romantic when it comes to relationships

⇶ Everyone knows he gets crushes easily, but a lot of them are just for the sake of slicing up his life, he doesn’t actually want a relationship with that person

⇶ Admires a lot of people from afar because of this, and he’ll gush over people he’s never even spoken a word to

⇶ It sounds corny, but he really doesn’t care about anything physically, he looks for personality

⇶ Sees no point in being attracted to someone just because they have a pretty face if their personality is awful

⇶ Likes people who kind of act like him, sweet, caring, motivated, a bit outgoing. and has similar interests

⇶ If you don’t act like him, he gravitates towards people who may contrast his personality too

⇶ You still have to be nice or at least have basic decency, but if you’re more reserved, and prefer to keep to yourself instead of being around people, he‘lil still like you

⇶ When Izuku is in a relationship, he’s a very good boyfriend

⇶ He’s attentive, always knowing what you need and what you like. He doesn’t forget dates, birthdays, or other important things

⇶ But he’ll need that energy in return or else he’ll lose interest in the relationship

⇶ Izuku has struggled with both depression and anxiety his entire life

⇶ He was always an anxious kid, and at first, Inko chopped it up to him just being a bit shy or having mood swings

⇶ But eventually, he was diagnosed with anxiety at a very very young age

⇶ It’s manageable, most days, thankfully, because his determination to do better for himself outweighs it

⇶ But his bad days are bad, to the point where they’re so debilitating that he can’t do anything but lay in bed all day in an attempt to be calm and not trigger an anxiety attack

⇶ Took medication for it at some point, but got really bad side effects from it and now chooses to just deal with it on his own

⇶ Izuku was diagnosed with depression a few years after he was diagnosed with anxiety

⇶ It developed shortly after his quirk didn’t develop, and he was being relentlessly bullied at school for being quirkless, and then coming home to see hero’s like All Might do great things while he was literally and figuratively powerless

⇶ His depression only got worse as he grew up and was still getting bullied for being quirkless

⇶ Somehow, Izuku doesn’t resent Bakugo or any of his bullies, and really doesn’t even think of them much as he gets older

⇶ For Bakugo, he doesn’t necessarily forgive him, but he learns to put it in the past for as long as Bakugo can acknowledge that what he did was wrong and can’t be taken back

⇶ As for his other bullies, he believes they’ll get whatever they deserve. He thinks they’re assholes, sure, but they were dumb kids at the time so he puts that behind him too

⇶ During the summer he spent training with All Might to inherit One For All, his mental health got better than he ever thought it would

⇶ Inko had no clue what was happening that entire time, but she could see a different light in her sons eyes and seeing him happy made her cry every night for the entire summer

⇶ Unfortunately, his mental health once again tanked when he was at UA due to all the villain attacks and the way his life was constantly being threatened more than anyone else’s

⇶ He was so exhausted all the time, and would have one or more anxiety attacks on a daily basis

⇶ Izuku is fairly emotional as is, even around others, but he keeps his deeper issues private and takes a moment to himself when even feels like he’s imploding

⇶ Wants to talk about it with someone, he really does, but he doesn’t even know where he’d begin and he doesn’t want to dump all that on anyone

⇶ Inko did put him through therapy as a kid, but he was in and out of it for various reasons, but the main one was money

⇶ Therapy is expensive, and Inko is a single mother. She put him through therapy when she could but there were times were she just couldn’t make it happen as badly as she wanted to get her son help

⇶ Once he got to UA and was very obviously doing much worse, she offered to start paying for therapy again and he completely refused

⇶ He’s always felt bad that she had to spend so much money trying to figure things out with him. Why he had no quirk, his depression, his anxiety, and therapy, he didn’t want her doing all that for him even though she felt obliged has his mother

⇶ At that point, Izuku felt like the responsibility landed on the school to make sure their students were being properly taken care of, mentally and physically, with everything they were going through during their time there

⇶ Doesn’t resent anyone for not doing anything, but he definitely wishes it was handled much better for the sake of everyone

⇶ But if you’re his s/o he will lean on you for support. He won’t tell you everything, because he doesn’t want to put all of that weight on you, but he will vent a little and cry to you

⇶ You can use him as a shoulder to lean on as well of course, and don’t think that you can’t come to him just because he’s dealing with his own things. If anything, it makes him feel better that you trust him enough to support you when you’re vulnerable

⇶ Izuku is a giver.

⇶ He gives, gives, gives, and gives without thinking about himself

⇶ Loves to give his friends little gifts, always coming back from the store with their favorite snack because he saw it on the shelf or a trinket that reminded him of them

⇶ Because he pays so much attention to detail, his gifts are always good

⇶ Insanely good at birthday gifts, if you ever don’t know what to get someone he’s the one you need to call

⇶ He will never get you a gift you don’t like, and if he somehow does, he’ll immediately replace it with w something you do like

⇶ Won’t even get the metal of your jewelry wrong, who do you think he is?

⇶ If you’re his s/o, you’ll be spoiled to death

⇶ He always pays for everything and never even lets you worry about how much it is

⇶ If you ever find out the price of something he bought you, and proceed to ask why he spent so much money on you, he’ll get upset and ask why you don’t want him spending money on you especially if it’s by choice

⇶ Gift giving and acts of service are his main love languages, so he gets very offended if you question him. It’s like asking if he even loves you, and he loves you to death.

⇶ On the other hand, Izuku gets very uncomfortable when people spend any amount of money on him or do things for him

⇶ Doesn’t even like to get birthday gifts or have people throw him parties, because he knows that means people will be spending money on him

⇶ It comes from growing up with a single mother who made just enough for them to live a decent life, he’ll always appreciate the gesture, but it will never not make him uncomfortable.

⇶ This is especially the case if you’re dating him. His birthday and holidays are the only time you’re allowed to spend your money on him, and even then you can’t spend an excessive amount

⇶ Izuku WILL get angry if you do, he won’t yell at you or anything, but he’ll huff about how you shouldn’t waste your money on him for the rest of the day

⇶ Izuku is a sweet boy, really. But as bubbly as he is even he needs someone to depend on, and in turn he’ll give you his all

—

Taglist: @megurulvr @miirene @planetlunaa @romiantic @szaplsdropthealbum @dreampurpledreams @goldenglow149 @gender-queery @roaringlion @chocolateochaco @tatiquichi @kxtsxkii

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—

Thank you for reading, comments and reblogs are appreciated! Follow for more!

[yanderelovlies]

✨Galaxy Anon ✨ here!

Vivi loved that post of Joseph x reader! Ooh it’s good to have some Joseph love as well!

Pfft literature classes I was good at but at the same time I don’t even know how because I still don’t know what a conjunction is. Have faith in your creations!

Dude that had to be awkward especially also having to avoid people who try to make you go to work again before your break is even up.

Kinda but I know I can barely do much not to mention I need more proof and I doubt it change there attitudes for long. I just have to be smarter now to get them off my back.

Oooh movie night then! Makes sense are you guys sensitive also about that or more just hear it? Makes sense everyone had there limits.

I can understand your viewpoint. I wasn’t raising my sister really since school and my mom wanted to make sure I didn’t have to go through what she had but I was really young as well but I have respect for siblings who do have to play parent because it’s hard. Raising your siblings as well having also a mindset of a child still can really mess it up because your brain isn’t developed all the way yet and not to mention already having school to worry about is just hard. Not to mention hearing “ I hate you.” Is different for a child than a parent especially how they handle it. I would’ve start crying if I had to deal with that since I was struggling with my self esteem at the time as well. It’s understandable, you stepped up but you aren’t perfect so sometimes people do things that they regret but you were there for them and I’m sure they are grateful you gave a shit about them. I see. I see vivi and it was unfair of a situation especially having to worry about things like that. But I’m glad you learned and grown as a person and you admit it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. It sucks that you didn’t have another parental figure as well to help with the family and you have the right to be mad about that. But in the end at least you have more stability now and I’m sure your family is glad for what you have done for them. I’m always hear vivi to listen and I maybe not always understand but I will listen. Because that’s what friends are for. And if you ever want to talk privately just ask so I can give you my account here on tumblr. Though make sure not to post it since I’m not ready to go all public with more nsfw content right now.

On a lighter note vivi what did you expect the public to Vote when you said if you should make more smut or not? Everyone horny and honestly your smut fucking delivers so get ready to hear the filthy simps in your comments! Though I can’t deny I’m excited about what you cook up next with your next work so can’t wait!

Galaxy!!!! 💕💕💕💕💕 I was just thinking about you! How are you?? I hope your doing okay!

I'm glad you liked it! I had a Joesph itch that just needed to be scratched 💕

HONESTLY ME FUCKING EITHER BUT IM PASSING!! ah, thank you! I try to but sometimes I overthink. There is so much deleted work because of it.

Well, we went home for our two weeks so if my supervisor asked me to stay and I said no I just went home and forgot about it. It only got weird when she asked me if I would work extra hours lol.

Ah, I see. I hope it either goes well for you or your situation improves. Work is already hell you shouldn't have coworkers making it worse.

Hell yeah! We could do it on discord! My mom isn't as sensitive as I am due to her working in the medical field. Me on the other a real-life deep cute makes me cringe and shiver, and I have to look away.

Honestly, the school was another thing that suffered. Yes, I graduated on time, but not with the best grades, and only because I poured HOURS into credit recovery. I missed so much school that I'm surprised they didn't call the cops. Not all of it was because I had to stay with my siblings, but looking back I think it was because I never had me time it was always school and then being a parent. So I faked being sick to have that me time I wanted. Thank you, Galaxy that means a lot, and the same goes for you. I will always be happy to hear or help you in any way I can and feel free to private message me for anything 💕💕

Lol I'll tell you a secret. I got the idea during my all night marathon. I was reading this really good dmc fic, and it sparked this idea that I hope everyone will like. On top of that I think my smut writing could use some work. I struggle sometimes.

[atlafan]

okay, I know a lot of you are starting college/university this year, so here are some things yall need to know/understand (I’m a first year academic advisor FYI):

no one is going to hold your hand. Many places consider you a legitimate adult at this point. Nothing will be spelled out for you completely.

GOOGLE IS A THING! I know when you don’t know something your instinct is to email someone, but often times if you Google the name of your college + whatever you have a question about, you can find the answer that way

Please remember that your professors/advisor are people too! A lot of us don’t check email on the weekends or after certain business hours. Please don’t ask to meet them on a weekend, or during the noon lunch hour. We need to rest too.

Your professors aren’t going to email you about every little thing, they’re just not. Some might, but most won’t. READ YOUR SYLLABUS! CHECK YOUR COURSE PAGES! As far as buying books? Your college bookstore website should have a search engine for looking up what you need for each class. Start there, then you can go onto Amazon, eBay, chegg, etc to find the best deal. If it’s a gen ed, just rent. If it’s a book for a major course, buy it. And listen, I know we all hate amazon, but but amazon student is amazing, less expensive than a regular amazon account, and you can save way more on books and supplies.

JOIN CLUBS, GO TO EVENTS! You’re not going to make friends sitting alone in your dorm room. I know it seems scary to venture out, but trust me, getting involved in campus activities (even if you’re commuting) is the best way to meet people and not feel alone.

UTILIZE CAMPUS RESOURCES!! Have an IEP or 504 plan? GO TO YOUR CAMPUS ACCESSABILITY SERVICES! They can give you what you need. Get tutoring right away, SEE YOUR ADVISOR, go to the counseling center if you’re not feeling well mentally!! All of this stuff is included in your tuition, use it!

CHECK YOUR FUCKING SCHOOL EMAIL!! I know yall like to text, but please. Don’t email using your personal email (gmail, iCloud, yahoo), USE YOUR SCHOOL EMAIL! Read things through carefully. Departments on campus email you for a reason.

REGISTER FOR CLASSES ON TIME!! At some point you’ll meet with your advisor to discuss classes for the following semester, and they will give you a registration date. WAKE UP EARLY ON THAT DATE AND FUCKING REGISTER! Then you don’t have to worry about getting into the classes you need.

Exercise. Get out of your rooms. Even if it’s just a walk to get some fresh air. Your diet/eating habits are going to change drastically. Please don’t skip meals. Make sure you’re eating. I was a very unhealthy student and would barely eat. PLEASE EAT!

GO TO CLASS AND YOU WILL PASS! Your parents/guardians won’t be there to nag you. It’s on you to get into a routine and schedule. I know it’s tempting to skip, but unless you’re sick, don’t skip class. You or your parents are paying for that class. And if you fail, you have to retake it, which means paying for it again, and paying for an extra class to make up for the credits you’re missing.

CHECK YOUR BILLS! If you’re paying for school on your own, please check your bills. Financial offices will put holds on your accounts if you can’t pay. STAY AWAY FROM PRIVATE LOANS! You’ll be paying off the interest for the rest of your life, it’s not worth it. Most schools will help you set up a payment plan. I recommend calling those offices directly as opposed to emailing, you’ll get more direct help.

Save your money for doing laundry.

Don’t pack a ton of shit. You can go home and swap out clothes at some point.

Get a lanyard for your student ID, idc if you think it makes you look stupid. If you lose your ID it can cost a lot of $$$ to replace it.

Never leave your room without your key. Taking a shower? Great! Your roommate left and locked the door behind them. Good thing you had your key in your shower caddy!

SHOWER SHOES! Get a cheap pair of flip flops to wear in the shower. Girls, yall are gross. I can’t tell you how many times there was hair all over the shower, or a used tampon flung into the corner. Please clean up after yourselves. Don’t leave makeup in the sink. Bathrooms are a COMMUNITY SPACE, be courteous.

If you want to go out and party, that’s fine, but keep your priorities straight. Are you at school to party and drink, or are you there to get an education and eventually a job?

GO TO CAREER SERVICES! They can help you with your resume, and do mock interviews.

GO TO YOUR ALUMNI OFFICE! Alums love helping students find internships and jobs. The people in that office can help you get in contact with the them.

This is all I can think of for now, but for the love of god, heed my warnings. College can be a wonderful time to learn and grow as a person, but it can also be really depressing and tough. Seek help, get involved, and go to class. Good luck! 💕

[maybe-your-left]

ASK FRIDAY - CREATE A SCENARIO: roommates trope with Kylo

Due to some last minute room swapping and late registering Reader and Kylo end up in the same dorm but they're mad about it and hate each other (cue intense sexual tension)

Dorm room, Snowed in, evening time like 6

The heater/power has just gone out and Kylo knows a few ways to get warm...only if Readers up for it...

been working on this for FOREVER ANON. 

I loved it! 

Crushed

TW: NSFW, dirty talk, dom/sub vibes, exhibitionism, kinda fluff, Kylos not that nice and is an entitled man.

Oh yeah, you fuckin’ slut. 

Yes-Yes-Yes! 

‘M gonna cum all over your fucking tits.

You slapped the wall next to your bed, hard. 

“Can you guys keep it down! It’s 1 in the morning!” 

Muffled voices came through the paper-thin wall, sounding like bodies moving to the floor. Good, you thought, at least he will get rug burn from the shitty carpet, might keep him from fucking everything that moves. 

A hard knock on the wall pulled you from that thought. 

“Go read your fucking Bible! I’m trying to get my dick wet!” 

“Please!” 

“Why don’t you go get fucked!?” 

Some giggled came through next, followed by more muffled whispering. You whined loudly, trying to ignore the sounds of him fucking whatever bimbo your dormmate had in his lair. Shoving your face into your pillow, muffling your tears and wails. 

You turned on your TV, drowning out the final act of his performance. Fingers poised over your keyboard to file another noise complaint with the RA… not like they ever helped you. The last time they intervened they left with a black eye and broken nose, shrugging for you to sort it out yourselves. 

A door slammed shut, you let out a sigh of relief. 

At least he wasn’t a cuddler. 

You climbed out of bed, tip-toeing to your door to take a peek of whatever slut found her way into his room this evening. The special lady was a new cinderella every fucking week, he didn’t even try to know their names. You heard him admit it once in class to his friends, saying he called them all ‘baby’ so he wouldn’t have to learn. 

You peeked out the door, blinking from the harsh fluorescent lighting of your dingy dorm halls. The walls were a screaming white, yellowing from years of shoddy cleaning. You tried to clean your room when you first came to school, but it was too disgusting. 

A non-smoking dorm, ha. Everyone smoked, especially your neighbor. 

“Shouldn’t you be in bed creeper?” 

You jumped at his voice, exhaling harshly through your nose. You steeled your features, caught red-handed looking for his latest prey. Crossing your arms defensively, not that there was anything to hide. You were in your ratty pj’s, they were on sale at Old Navy a few years ago and you never threw them away even though they barely fit anymore. 

“If you’re so interested in being a cuck,” he grinned at you, flashing his crooked teeth, “I would love to have you over for an encore, I’m sure you’d love to watch me in action.” 

“Buzz off, Ren.” 

“Ooo, angry tonight,” he smirked, now stepping out of his door frame. You choked a little at his appearance, no shirt on, basketball shorts barely hanging off his hips. Dangerously low, seriously, if he took one wrong move they would be on the floor. His chest was covered in fresh scratch marks, no doubt from his latest victim, a sheen of sweat glistening under the lights. 

Fuck, he was good-looking. 

But he was terrible. 

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, daring you to stare back at him. 

You gulped, caught again. You were better than that, you were just tired from being kept up since ten with his version of ‘love-making’. 

“My eyes are up here cupcake,” he stepped forward. Pushing you back into your doorframe, almost inside your sanctuary. “If you ever decide you want to break your vow of chastity, I’m right next door.” 

“Step away from me, Kylo.” 

He cocked his brow, “I love when you’re mean, come on. Let’s see if kitty has claws.” 

You bared your teeth, fists balling under your underarms, “Not even if you were the last man on Earth.” 

He shrugged, backing away from you. 

“Deal, bitch.” 

You moved to shut your door on him, “Go away.” 

“See you in class, bright and early.” 

------ 

When you imagined leaving for college, it was different. 

Saying goodbye to your parents, packing your car with whatever small valuables you owned. Determined to make a name for yourself all the way across the country, no friends or family, truly on your own. You imagined everything would be different, the dorm would be filled with new and friendly faces. 

RA’s greeting you as you parked outside, giving you a tour and maybe a group lunch with all your floormates. Getting to know each other, maybe even going to some new-student orientation event they planned for the newbies. 

Classes were smooth, acing all your major requirements. Professors were kind and ready to help you at any moment, letting your artistic vision flow through your body every morning with your 8 AM yoga class. 

But no. 

Instead, you registered late. 

Your classes all at the worst times, bright and early. 

Second rate dorm, COED even… smelly dudes between your single bedroom which would be better defined as a broom closet. Burping and fucking on both sides of you while you tried to study. Your major requirement classes were boring and filled with pretentious art students who thought they were the next Picasso. 

Professors didn’t care if you lived or died, only focusing on the bell schedule because they couldn’t control what the freshmen did in their classes. 

Your options for clubs were limited, either join a sport or a cult. 

And worst of all. 

Kylo Ren. 

He was your neighbor, signed up late just like you. You actually arrived at the same time, he pushed you down on your ass in the lobby so he could be checked in first. Calling you a clumsy bitch, only for you both to be handed keys to the same floor. Right next to each other, sharing a flimsy wall. 

On top of that, he was an art major like you. 

And since he registered late, he was in almost every class. 

Even yoga! 

He took your mat the first day, leaving you in tears in the hallway. He apologized afterward, handing it back to you before storming off to be with his beefy upper-class friends. Any moment he could, Ren would humiliate you. Trying to push your buttons, whistling at you when you had to cross the hallway to the showers. Tripping you when you had your hands full, making fun of you for hanging out with your sparse group of friends. 

And when he found out you were annoyed with him making noise, he latched onto it. 

One week he decided to recite the entire Phantom of the Opera, just because you mentioned in class that you loved that play. 

He did every part, even the musical scores, you could’ve sworn he did it with a megaphone on the wall, just to spite you. 

Your parents told you ‘he just likes you, he’s a boy.’ 

No! 

That’s not how people express feelings, at least not healthy people. 

Your alarm clock blared on your nightstand, you didn’t sleep so it didn’t bother you. Letting out a heavy sigh of defeat, Ren ruined another night for you, a night you’d never get back. Of precious, precious sleep that you desperately deserved. 

Slipping on some plum leggings and a sports bra. No one gave a fuck about your outfit in your early morning class, as long as you went with clothes on. You popped on your headphones, trying to drone out the noise of Ren’s music through the wall. He liked to blast some god-awful music every morning. 

Today, it was an old Black Veil Brides album! 

You made it out of the dining hall, snatching a muffin for breakfast. Smiling at some guys you knew, waving at your friend Rose as you stormed off to the gym. The cold chill of Winter biting at your nose, it was too cold to not wear a full outfit. But there was no time, with Ren keeping you up all night and classes back to back, you didn’t have time to fuck around with dressing up. 

Ren ran in after you, laughing with his friends. Big nose all red from the frost, his hair looked frozen to his scalp, probably showered beforehand. You rolled out your mat, trying to stretch while he bragged about the pussy he got last night. Making a big show of your complaining, saying you were desperate to fuck him based on your whining. 

You rolled your eyes when he planted next to you, “Good morning, you ran out in a hurry.” 

“I didn’t want to be late,” you sneered, not giving him the time of day, still stretching your back into child's-pose. 

“How are we supposed to walk together if you run away from me, cupcake?” 

You scoffed, shooting him an icy glare. Despite him grinning at you like the happiest man on Earth, god, you needed to stop giving him a reaction. That would shut him up if you didn’t give him the attention he is clearly lacking from his parental figures. 

“Good morning class,” your teacher greeted you calmly, “I hope you’re all doing well. As you all know, this next week is finals week, I’m offering makeup classes to those of you who need to make up some credit hours. We are also hosting some meditation if you need time to relax between classes.” 

Next to you, Ren leaned towards your mat, setting his hand right behind your back. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know he was hovering. Ready to devour you like a piece of meat.

“Hey,” he chuckled. 

You stayed quiet, pushing back into his arm so he would move. Ren stayed put, purring in your ear, “Did you sleep well?” 

“Move off my mat, Ren.” 

He smirked down at you, “You seem stressed, do you want me to help by fucking your brains out.” 

You shot off your mat, effectively knocking him onto his back. Laughing loudly in a relatively silent room of students trying to center themselves. He grinned from the floor, hands up in the air in defense, “I’m just offering to help you, Jesus!” 

“Just,” you pointed in his face, hair falling out of your ponytail. Everyone was staring at you, even your instructor. Shocked you were yelling, you barely spoke in class, at the scariest person in your class. 

“Just, leave me alone.” 

------

Ren avoided you for the rest of the week, mostly. 

Still had his nightly fuck-more subdued though, you had on noise-canceling headphones to try and focus on studying. There were still so many classes to get to, and you wouldn’t be finished until the day before Winter break… you were desperate to get this over with. 

You missed your family, the plane ticket itself cost you a whole month of meals. 

Of course, you would do fine in your classes, it was just the motivation to get there. Every morning you glared at Ren when he greeted you in yoga, still standing next to you like a menacing shadow. 

This morning was no different, only you skipped class to study in the library. Bundled up in your winter coat, long black scarf, hair in a lazy braid, and thermal leggings on. The wind had picked up last night, bringing on an ice storm that wasn’t expected until late next week. You walked on treacherous sidewalks, dodging all the other students who were seeking the warmth of the library. 

You settled inside, sprawling your books and laptop on an old desk. Grabbing out a few sketch pads so you could finish up some pieces that were due in a couple hours. Most of your finals in art were ‘unconventional’ which meant the professor wanted to see what you were motivated to work on during the year. 

For yours, you had decided to draw the people you saw on campus. 

Studying their faces, mannerisms, languages while they were in an organic environment. It was a great piece, and one of your professors was very interested in showcasing it in a show. You were proud, it wasn’t large but it was important for you and you wanted it to be perfect before turning it in. 

Your pastels were spread out, fingertips smudged and stained from charcoal, a few lines on your face and brow from forgetting about the streaks. There was this one person you couldn’t finish, it was one of your friends from last week. She was laughing and holding a drink, the expression wide and full of emotion but it was hard for you to capture without her being there. 

But you steeled yourself, you weren’t leaving this spot until you finished her. 

“You smudged that dude's face,” a low voice rumbled behind you. A finger pointing down at the top left corner, “Stop-don’t touch it.” 

You moved to swat the hand away, not wanting some random guy to ruin your piece with their grubby fingers. Recentering yourself, he wasn’t smudged, he was just in the corner so it looked like it wasn’t finished… what did he know, anyway? 

“You didn’t draw me?” 

Now you stopped, why you didn’t recognize the timbre of his voice was ridiculous. 

You let out a long sigh, “Please, don’t touch the canvas, Kylo. It’s not ready, yet.” 

The chair that housed your backpack slid out next to you, your things tossed on the ground carelessly before Ren sat. You scooted away from him, he smelled like he just showered. Judging by his wet hair you were probably right… “What are you doing?” 

He shrugged, fiddling with one of your notebooks. Flipping through pages carelessly, “I don’t know-you weren’t in yoga so.” 

“So,” you gave him a weird look, “You stalked me to the library?” 

“There’s no reason to go to yoga if I can’t bother you,” he flashed a smile, dropping it slightly when he saw you weren’t playing back with him. 

Silence fell over you both, the only noises the heat kicking in around the scuffling of boots and shoes to face the weather again. 

“I like your piece,” he gestured to your work, “For drawing, right?” 

You nodded stiffly, not enjoying his friendly tone. Like he wasn’t your demon neighbor who made it his job to annoy you and had for the past four months of your life. Ren shifted again, now leaning on the table with his cheek resting on his forearm. Looking at you with wide eyes, you never took the time to look at his face. 

He had very large eyes that betrayed his emotions. Swimming with flecks of auburn, gold, and some streaks of green, blinking slowly as he studied your canvas. You looked away from him, trying to ignore the urge to draw them, how his long lashes rivaled your own. How his skin was freckled with beauty marks, creases from frowning lined his forehead and nose. You could even make out his stubble, some pieces he must’ve missed the last time he shaved. 

You went back to drawing, no longer focusing on it. Just trying to understand what was happening, your tormentor was a foot away from you. Breathing calmly like a cat laying in a patch of sun. Hunched over the edge, torso too long to rest like a normally proportioned human being, had he always been this big? 

“Wanna get coffee before class?” 

“Huh?” 

You blinked slowly, not registering that he spoke to you. 

Ren leaned off, letting out a big yawn and scratching the back of his neck. 

Yes, definitely a cat. 

“Do you want to get coffee,” he stared blankly, “Before we head to English?” 

You looked down at your mess, then back up at him. Shaking your head softly, voice quiet as a mouse, “No-thank you.” 

He exhaled harshly, “I’m not gonna burn you with it, it’s just coffee.” 

“No, I’m fine,” you said firmer, “I wanna work on this some more.” 

Ren stayed still, probably trying to think of a way to get you to agree with him. You had known him long enough to know he doesn’t like people disagreeing with him. Didn’t have to be a college graduate to see that the man had issues with control, hence terrorizing you all semester. You didn’t want to offer him an olive branch, because he was just doing it as a joke. Probably, waiting until you were calm around him to do something cruel. 

You went back to drawing, listening to him get up and leave you. Mumbling something under his breath about ‘trying to be nice’ before walking out. You shook off the awkwardness, not willing to break down and let him do something nice for you, just because he didn’t ruin your final piece didn’t mean he wouldn’t do something in the future. 

The day was still young. 

------

Oddly enough, Ren didn’t bother you that evening. 

Not even a door slam! 

You almost thought he was dead, but you saw him in the hallway when you were walking to the bathroom. Wrapped in your robe, caddy in hand, he didn’t whistle or try to touch your ass like he normally did. Just a stale smile before closing himself back in his room. 

Not to waste the precious quiet, you went to work packing your bags for your trip tomorrow. Deciding to do a quick load of laundry, your hall was almost empty, so no one would be down there while you waited. 

Piling up your hamper, you threw your pj's and slippers on. Remembering to grab a blanket and your laptop so you could hang out down there while you waited. 

Your friends back home were all excited to see you, ready to hear all about your time away. The boys you met, friends you made, classes, all that. So excited to get home and see your cat, Gremlin, he was all alone without you. Your mom sent you pictures earlier of him curled in your blankets, saying that he knew you were coming home soon. 

Maybe next Fall you could get an apartment, you didn’t want to leave him for another year. 

A washing machine door slammed shut next to you, causing you to jump from your perch atop your own. Faced with Ren, who was doing his laundry in his pjs, or his version of pjs. Giving you another tight-lipped smile before leaning against the far wall. Yawning loudly before sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. 

You ignored him, turning back to your laptop that was playing a crime documentary. Texting some friends to keep your mind from wandering to Ren and why he was in such a mood. 

“Are you leaving tomorrow?” Ren called from his wall. 

You pretended to not hear him, refocusing on the documentary, there was something very interesting happening and you weren’t about to miss how they found the killer's shoe prints in the mud just because Ren was trying to talk to you. 

Then something was thrown at you, and it smelled awful. 

“Oh-my-god!” 

You shot off the washing machine, throwing down the offending garment. Ren was laughing loudly, “Chill out! It was just an old shirt!” 

“How old was it?!” 

He smiled at you from the ground, propping an elbow on his kneecap. One leg stretched out on the tile, you tried to regain a sense of calm, he was just messing with you again. Just take some deep breaths… in-out-in

“Are you leaving tomorrow, after our final?” 

You let out your deep breath, sitting back on the washer. “Yeah,” you paused your show since mister meanie wanted to have a tea party. “I have to get to the airport right after.” 

He hummed, “Same.” 

The washer beeped loudly, echoing in the otherwise empty room. Ren watched you hop off, fixing your shorts which definitely rode up too much. Trying to not flash him your underwear as you bent to move your clothes to a dryer. You cursed when a sock fell from your pile, great.  

“How come we’ve never fucked?” 

Now all your clothes were on the floor. 

Along with Ren, who was staring at you like you were an art exhibit. 

You dragged your clothes back to the washer. There was no way you were finishing now that they touched the dirty floor, no one cleaned down here and just because it looked clean didn’t mean-

A whistle, “You good over there?” 

“Yup.” 

“Okay,” you heard him stretch, popping his joints as he lifted off the floor. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck as he closed in. Almost touching you, no escape, “As I was saying, how come you’ve never let me steal your virginity?” 

You scoffed, “I am not a virgin.” 

Ren pressed into you, pushing you against the washer now. Grinding his hips into your own, you squirmed, trying to dispel every fantasy flooding your brain. Every night you spent listening to him through the wall, imagining just once that it was you. If he weren’t such a monster, you would have gladly laid on your back and let him do whatever he wanted. 

“Nothing?” 

You took a deep breath, placing both palms on the top of the washer. Biting your lip as you silently pleaded for him to let you go, but also continue. You could smell his cologne from this close, how it complimented him so well. Mixing in with his dark aura, you wanted nothing more than to spin around and…

Soon you were doing just that, but not on your own violation. 

Ren had his hands grasping your hips, thumbs slipping under the fabric of your t-shirt to caress your soft skin. Lips capturing your own, you froze in his hold. Unsure of what to do, a part of you wanted to scream and smack him, but the other part loved the smell of his toothpaste. 

He relaxed when you relaxed, your lips still awkwardly locked together. Not opening and allowing for more, but not moving away either. You stared at him, startled to see him looking back at you. Pulling back slightly, you watched his face chase yours. Bringing your lips together a few more times, kissing at the seam. 

You felt his tongue flick for entry, trying to pry your mouth open so he could explore. When you didn’t move he finally huffed in annoyance, “I know it’s your first kiss, but you’re supposed to open your mouth.” 

You groaned, bringing both hands to cradle his cheeks. There was no way he was going to make fun of you, he initiated this so. 

Ren made a muffled noise when you pressed your lips back together. Probably of shock and surprise, because, no. This was not your first kiss, not even your fourth or fifth kiss. Working your tongue skillfully into his mouth, you moaned softly at his taste. Just like you imagined… not that you put much stock into this but… it was wonderful. 

Bringing your fingers to the nape of his neck, tugging on his dark brown hair. Just like you always wanted to, whenever he walked past you with it tied in a bun you dreamt of tearing through it. Ren returned your affection in kind, his left hand moving to the small of your back. Fingers dancing under the waistband of your pajama bottoms. 

You heard him swear when he felt the lace underneath, nestled between your cheeks. Ren slid a hand over the globes of your ass, moving his hips in time with his tongue. Tasting every inch of your mouth, even growling in approval when you sunk your teeth into his bottom lip. 

Petting and groping each other against the washing machines, the sound of you swapping spit barely heard over the rumble of your clothes. Ren had gotten sick of grinding against your hip bone, pulling away from you for a moment. Shushing your pathetic whimpers, he hooked the hand not cupping your ass behind your left knee. 

Hiking it over his hip, opening your legs up. Allowing him to assault your center with his straining erection, oh you could picture it now. How easy it would be to just let him slip inside you. 

Right here, in the laundry room. 

*Beep* 

You pulled back roughly, barely able to unsuction your lips from Rens' own. A string of spit connecting your kiss-bitten lips, he looked at you with pleading eyes. Grinding himself against you harder, pulling a few soft mewls from your throat. 

“I need to switch my clothes,” you croaked.

He nodded, shakily setting your limb back on the floor and backing away. You watched through your own lust-filled state as he trembled. Walking back to his far wall, a hand cupping his cock through his sweats. Your throat clicked as you took in a much-needed breath, doing what you said you would. 

Setting them in the dryer, all the more aware of his eyes watching your every move. 

Not sparing him a glance when you sat back on the washer. 

Turning on your laptop once again to watch your crime documentary. 

Ignoring the throbbing between your legs, his deep breaths, and your shaking limbs. 

------

The TV’s at the airport all said the same thing, “Record snowfall this winter, right before the holidays! Experts say that we will be lucky to keep power until it passes. Our friends on the west coast are enjoying a white Christmas, while we’re stuck in the North Pole.” 

All flights have been grounded until further notice. 

Stuck. 

You could barely make it back to your dorm without crashing. 

Bursting into tears several times when you realized you wouldn’t be home until it was over. Wouldn't be able to safely leave your dorm room until it passed, leaving you utterly alone. 

You had emailed your RA letting him know your bad luck, he let the staff know you’d be there so they would have food and water running still. 

But other than that, this was your holiday. 

You slipped on the walk up to your room, sobbing loudly in the halls as you clutched your luggage. No going home, no seeing your friends or family, no Christmas dinner, no personal shower, no Gremlin to sleep on your face. 

Collapsing on your bed, curling yourself in the multitude of pillows and blankets that adorned it. The room had shitty heating, the entire building had shitty heating. The entire month of December you’d been freezing, and no amount of personal heaters could fix this kind of cold. 

You drifted off to sleep after crying for a few hours, letting your parents know what was happening. Setting alerts for earlier flights, anything you could do to get home. You were so tired in fact, that you slept through a power outage. Leaving the entire building to shut down, no backup generators. 

And no heat. 

It wasn’t until you felt yourself being lifted that you woke up to the commotion. 

Squirming in the kidnappers' arms, limbs aching from freezing for a time in your bedroom. The window must’ve cracked open because it was much colder than when you arrived. Your attacker didn’t let you go, growling in your ear to be still. 

Dragging you out of the building, towards a car you didn’t notice when you pulled in. With the snow swirling all around, it was a miracle they could see their own vehicle. You were thrown in the front seat, followed by your luggage tossed in the back. You stayed still, every time you moved it hurt, hypothermia. Common in the New England storms if you were foolish enough to be outside… 

You about passed out when the driver's side door opened, Ren climbed in. Looking just as frozen as you, slamming the door shut and mumbling something as he started his car. You could’ve cried when the engine turned, heat blasting between the both of you. 

“Hands,” his teeth chattered, holding his own out. He nodded for you to do the same, grasping your pink fingers between his own and blowing on them. “Power went out,” Ren took a shallow breath, “I was leaving and I saw your car. You were almost frozen to your bed, the window broke.” 

“Th-thank you-u-u.” 

Ren cringed at your fingers, slowly gaining back their normal color. “I tried to grab everything I could, like your backpack and luggage. But we can’t stay there, we’ll fucking freeze.” 

You nodded, tugging your hands away to curl into your chest. Thankful that Ren had enough sense to grab blankets, stuffing them in your lap from the backseat. You thought about grabbing your phone, but you could barely make a fist so it would do you no good. 

“My plane g-g-got ground-d-ed.” 

Ren shivered, nodding sharply, “Mine too, my mom got me a hotel room not far from here to stay until the storm passes. So, I’m taking us there.” 

“Okay.” 

You didn’t say anything else, not wanting to distract him from the treacherous roads. Thank god he had a Jeep, or else you would’ve died. You couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, less than that when you were on the highway out of the city. 

Ren kept mumbling things like it’s okay, I’m sorry, I know it's cold, whenever you shivered and took in sharp breaths. You must’ve been out for a while, to get this bad. A quick look at the clock in his car said you’d been asleep for three hours, who knows what would’ve happened if he hadn’t noticed your car… 

He helped you out, more carried you, towards the check-in desk. Too worried you would pass out in the car if he left you for too long, the front desk lady was quick and sweet. Making sure to send up extra blankets and pillows to your suite. Ren had you walk up with him, so he wouldn’t have to carry you and the luggage on separate trips. 

You clutched his hand like a child, tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. But he was so warm, it’s all you could think about. All you wanted was to be warm, nodding blindly to whatever Ren said to do. 

Plug your phone in, check. 

Let him talk to your mom, check. 

Draw a bath for you, check. 

Climb in the bath with you, double-check. 

It wasn’t until you were defrosted in the clawfoot tub that you realized you were naked with him. 

Rens chest against your back, holding you like his life depended on it. Judging by his shaking, you both were probably suffering from acute hypothermia. You had been silent for so long your voice spooked him a little, “Thank you.” 

He hummed into your hair, which was sitting on top of your head in a messy bun. “Are you okay?” 

You nodded slowly, “Can we go lay down?” 

“Yeah,” Ren hastily got out of the tub, draining it and wrapping you in plush towels. You were still too cold to blush from your nakedness, not how you pictured this going. You imagined you would finally give into him on some drunken party night, barely remembering his reaction to seeing you nude. 

But now he had seen you half-frozen, forced to cradle you back to life. 

------

You squinted from your cocoon, greeted by a dimly lit room. 

One spare lamp on a dingy-looking nightstand, well it wasn’t terrible. It was better than your nightstand in your dorm room… where was your dorm room anyway? 

Something vibrated behind you, followed by a heavyweight sprawling against your back. 

You held your breath, you were in a hotel. 

With a stranger. 

“Shit,” you whispered. 

Okay, you could wiggle out of here. You took a moment to study the room, there was the lamp from before, and some curtains on a metal rod in the far corner. If you managed to get out without being detected you could knock out the assailant. 

“You smell so good.” 

More weight settled on you, now you were trapped. This bear was closing in, who knows what happened while you were asleep! All you could remember was falling asleep at your dorm after the upsetting trip to the airport, then being dragged away. 

Your fingers burning when you tried to use them, being shoved in a car… 

Kylo. 

“Kylo?!” 

“Mhm.” 

You threw your arms up, successfully throwing him off you and the covers. Your limbs screaming at the sudden movement, you were still suffering from the cold. Next to you, curled in a ball, totally catlike, was Ren. 

A sleepy smile gracing his lips, hands curled under his cheek, and legs moving towards his chest, Like a child under a blanket. You gasped when you saw he was naked, “Fuck!” 

You were too. 

“What the fuck, Ren!?” 

“Stop yelling,” you watched his hand bat his nose like an animal, “Come back, you were warm.” 

You huffed, flailing off the bed in search of your bags. 

Memories flooding back to you, he took you here after saving your life. 

The bath. 

Ugh, bad time to remember your kiss the night before. 

Ren sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and blinking slowly. You flushed red when you looked between his legs, shit. How does he walk around with that? Is that why he has bad posture? You choked on your spit when he spread his legs out. 

Sprawling completely on the mattress like he wasn’t in a room with a stranger. 

“Snow hasn’t stopped,” Ren yawned, snapping a hand and pointing between his legs, “Come back.” 

“I’m not doing anything until you have clothes on.” 

He rolled his eyes, now looking you up and down. Focusing on your bare tits, swinging around with your erratic movements. You watched him lick his lips, wagging his eyebrows, “Come on, don’t you want to sit back on the bed?”

You shook your head, crouching down to your bag. Trying to not flash him more of your goods, but that didn’t work. Not with him leaning to the side of the bed to make a show of him peeping on you. 

A wolfish grin splitting his face, “You have a nice ass.” 

“Can you stop,” you huffed, tugging on some sweats you found. 

Ren made a pouting noise when you stood, pushing his bottom lip out while you threaded your arms through a t-shirt. You shivered a little-it was still freezing in the room. Probably from the weather, it sounded like it got worse… hopefully this place would keep power. 

You looked back at the bed, Ren was still manspreading. One of his large paws crawling towards his cock, watching you with the same smirk. He let out a soft sigh when he touched himself, eyes momentarily shutting in bliss. 

“Do you have to do that with me here?” 

He cracked an eye open, “Do you have to be that far away?” 

You scoffed, moving to the corner of the room. Shivering since you were near the window, you plopped down in the cheap armchair. Ignoring the sounds of his fist gliding along his cock, you tucked your feet under your body. Humming a tune to ignore the arousal growing between your legs, there was no way you were caving to him. 

What kind of man does that with a complete stranger present!? 

More importantly, why was it turning you on? 

“Come here,” he whistled, you spared a glance at him. Blushing profusely at the sight, his cock was now fully erect. Standing tall and proud, tip flushed almost purple from want. You quickly looked away, trying to swallow down the drool that gathered in your mouth. 

What would happen if you gave in? 

Not like it would hurt you… he looked so delicious. 

“If I come over there, what's gonna happen,” you whispered, determined to stay put.

With a deep breath, the mattress groaned under his weight, probably leaning back to get comfortable. He seemed to love you being there, watching him, or trying not to. Ren made a small non-committal scoff, “Whatever you want to happen, baby.” 

“Don’t call me that, you know my name.” 

“Meow.” 

Your head snapped towards him, met with his grin. “Come on-you really want me to do this by myself?” he waved his cock, fist tight around the base. You rolled your eyes, training your eyes to focus on the least attractive part about him. 

You were coming up empty, all you could stare at was his cock. 

The prominent vein along the underside thrumming in time with his heartbeat. You could practically feel it along your tongue, rigid and stiff. Slowly, you stood from the chair, met with a soft whine from Ren. Eying your hungrily as you sauntered over, you planted a knee in the mattress. 

Between his legs, which were spread obscenely wide, he licked his lips in anticipation. 

“If I help you, are you going to be nicer to me?” 

He nodded, chest taking in sharp breaths. You slowly leaned back on your heels, stripping your top off, despite him seeing you naked earlier. Surprised when he bit his bottom lip, watching you play with your tits, rolling them in the palm of your hand. Just to make him squirm a bit, “I’ll be nicer, whatever you want.” 

“I’m really cold still,” you spoke softly, making sure to lean in close enough to graze his lips with your own before pulling away, “Can you help warm me up?” 

“Yes,” Ren's hands shot out, kneading your flesh a few times. Debating to grasp your tits or the small of your waist, like a kid in a candy store. So many options, but you didn’t want to wait. If you were doing this, it would be about you.

“Eat me out.” 

He stilled, cocking a brow, “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me,” you exhaled on his neck, being sure to drag your kitty claws along his chest. Briefly grazing his nipples, savoring the way he gasped. “Eat me out, if you make me cum, I’ll let you fuck me. Like the desperate slut you are.” 

Ren scowled for a moment, nudging your face from his neck. Eyes dancing across your face before capturing your lips, moaning softly in your mouth, “I can make you cum so hard you’ll never want another man again.” 

You placed a soft kiss, rolling onto your back dramatically. Splaying your legs wide, “If that's true, why do you fuck a different girl every week?” 

He growled at you, actually growled. 

Hands no longer soft in their quest to memorize your skin, instead Ren pinned your legs hard enough for them to pop. Making you squeal from the stretch, “How fast do you think I can make you cum? Hm?” 

Before you could answer, he dove in. 

Lips wrapping around your clit and suckling fast, tongue flicking out every few seconds. You were already bucking up to meet him, but his firm hold kept you flush. While his tongue began to lap thick stripes along the seam of your pussy. Briefly hooking the tip into your entrance, both of you moaning when he tasted your wetness. 

“Shit-Kylo!” 

“Mm,�� his voice vibrated against your clit, continuing his assault until you choked on your spit. You buried your fingers in his hair, keeping him in that right spot. “I’m so fucking close,” you cried out, pleading his name over and over and over. 

“You know,” he popped off, smacking his lips that were glistening with your cum, “I’d rather you cum on my cock.” 

“Wait-” 

Ren flipped you onto your chest, yanking your hips into the air. You barely had time to take a breath before he shoved his cock inside you. His breath hitched as he sank to the hilt, you groaned at the stretch. Now this, this you could get used to.

He pulled out slowly, you heard him swear under his breath. Leaving just the tip of his cock inside and ramming his hips into yours. Pulling a loud scream from your lungs, Ren chuckled at that. Pumping his cock at a rough pace, “Shh-you’re going to upset our neighbors.” 

You huffed, cheap shot, angling your hips a little so his cock would rub up against your front wall. Moaning when he picked up the pace, skin slapping skin. Ren leaned over your form, planting a hand on the headboard to keep it from knocking. You weakly lifted your head, clenching at the sight of his knuckles turning white. 

All you could do was sit and take it, revealing in the bliss you’d denied yourself for four months. 

-------

Ren dropped you both off at the airport two days later. 

You spent three days together, fucking each other's brains out. 

Choking on his cock while he was brushing his teeth, eating you out while you read through your newsfeed. Bouncing on his cock while he fed you breakfast, you didn’t need to change clothes the entire vacation. 

But you wanted to go home and were thankful for the storm ending so you could head home. It was a little awkward, Ren wasn’t very excited about the snow stopping. It felt like he was trying to stall you leaving but reluctantly listened to your desire to fly home. 

“Got everything?” he mumbled, hitching his backpack over his shoulder. The two of you were waiting in the TSA line, about to part ways to head home. You nodded, giving him a tight smile before stepping up on your own. 

Ignoring the feeling of his eyes on the back of your head. 

Both of you stood awkwardly after making it through, “Well-my gates over here,” you pointed behind you. Ren hummed in acknowledgment, kicking at the ground instead of looking at you. 

“Thanks for letting me crash with you,” you tried again, still nothing. 

You groaned, spinning on your heel. Back to being an asshole, you were kicking yourself for thinking he would be nicer. All he wanted was some pussy, and you willingly gave into him when you should’ve remained strong. 

Your parents picked you up back at home, lots of tears and laughs were shared. Thankful that you made it home without freezing, your mom was grateful for your friend who saved your life. She wanted to call him and tell him how much she appreciated it but you shrugged it off, he was just being nice. He wasn’t your boyfriend or anything, you left out the part that he was the neighbor you always complained about. 

Collapsing on your bed felt surreal like you would wake up and be back in the hotel room at any moment. It was odd not sleeping next to him, you had grown accustomed to his clingy arms. Circling you in the middle of the night when he thought you were dead asleep, smelling your hair before tucking you into his naked chest. 

You tossed and turned all night, groaning when you were woken by your siblings to get up the next morning. Barely sleeping a wink, you resolved to take a nap later to try and not spoil your trip back home. 

At breakfast, your mom yelled at you from the kitchen. 

“Hey hon, someone’s calling you!” 

“Just answer it,” you groaned through a mouthful of cereal. Briefly hearing your mother answer in a typical chipper tone, stalling mid-sentence before she yelled again, “It’s someone named Kyle?” 

Shit, you shot to the kitchen. 

Snatching the phone and escaping to the living room where no one was hiding. 

“Kylo?” 

Hey, didn’t think you’d answer.

“How’d you get my number?” 

Took it while you were napping the other day, I knew you wouldn’t give it to me willingly.

You rolled your eyes, “Alright creeper, what’s up?” 

Just wanted to talk or whatever, felt weird not to. 

Silence. 

Are you gonna let me buy you coffee when we are back?

“You were being serious about that?” 

A scoff. 

Yeah-or we could just fuck again if that’s all you want from this. 

“Coffee sounds good.” 

Cool. Cool. 

It’s a date. 

-------

TAGGING: @finn-ray-nal-beads @onlykyloscenes @candycanes19 @historyandfandoms50 @caelum-phyriina-vermillon @ghoulian13 @mrs-kylo-ren @millenialcatlady @relationshipwithmybed @dancingmicrobes @wayward-rose  @contesa-lui-alucard @daydreamsofren @insufferablelust @ohdamnadamm @mariesackler @caillea @safarigirlsp @jalexunderthestars @shesakillerkween @glassythoughts @zimmermansbrat @not-the-teen-witch @jynzandtonic @roanniom @celestiasin @glassbxttless @cornmousequeen @driversmutbucket @blowthatpieceofjunk

[calyssmarviss]

Spoilers for Obi-Wan Kenobi part I

Ok let’s go

Yeah, let’s put in a recap just in case the Prequel Trilogy doesn’t haunt you

“Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi,”

featured in “the top ten sentences that break my heart”

So Hayden being hyped for this was just preparing me for how this is All About Anakin Again

God they were both so hot in RotS

Pun non intended for once

HAAAAA LETS GO

show Order 66 as many time as possible challenge

Yeah those kids are dead

Bye kids

SAND TITLE CARD you’re so sexy

Wait i have a great idea: every opening should be another Order 66 scene i want to see all over that Temple as it falls down

SPACE SHIP SHADOW my beloved

Idk why space ships, especially big ones, make me incredibly excited and a not insignificant part of why I’m a fan of this franchise comes from the fuck you big ships it has. Yes i did like the Last Jedi a lot. ‘cause it had the biggest ship.

Inquisitor Squad! I spent like 2 hours earning them all in GoH a couple weeks ago now I’m gonna see if their attacks are accurate lmao

Another reason why I’m a fan of star wars is that the villains know how to dress

Yeah my dudes, you get why the dark side is fun

“You know who we are.”

“Yeah bro, you’re all dressed like an evil elite force and not the ones wearing red.”

Hehehehe evil monologue let’s go

LOL

THIS FIXATION WITH KENOBI WELCOME TO THE CLUB THIRD SISTER

What is that.

I don’t wanna say Krayt because i don’t know much about them besides that they’re dragons on tatooine and at least some of them are black but Krayt? 👀 (please it’s important to me because of themes)

ARE THEY PROCESSING IT

That meat looks good tho

HE’S HERE

HELLO THERE

OH I MISSED YOU SO

you look good with a knife ngl

scratch that he just looks good in general oh my god i need to find a pirate version of this i want to take all the screenshots

The Obi-Wan Show Episode1: Obi-Wan starts an union

Meat Wars reborn but this time it’s Meat Workers War

No i not will elaborate, know your crack

He’s so beautiful i missed him so much i wanna die

@forcearama i know your pain

SAD MAN IN A CAVE TIME

SMELLY MAN IN A CAVE 😂

Jawas are the best actually. Love how they talk.

They sound like sped up anime characters

“I’ve heard the Jedi are all but extinct.

Courtesy of my best friend.”

Anakin is so bad for business.

Welcome to the stinky wizard club Obes.

He’s still dreaming about him 10 years later no one touches me.

*makes miserable noise at Anakin laughing in the speeder and then the i hate you*

LISTEN

I KNOW ALL THAT ALREADY

WHY IS IT HITTING ME SO HARD

Part of me is like “answer the phone Qui-Gon” the other is like “no that’s good i don’t want to see him anyway and also Obi-Wan needs to be alone and miserable because i love angst”.

Baby Luke!

Oh that’s hitting him hard

*claps gleefully* yes more pain

It’s like he’s paying for child maintenance after his divorce

Oooooh he called him master of course he knew him everyone knew him

“You were once a great Jedi”

Yeah 😭

Is that Alderaan?

Yes!

Tiny Leia!

“Try to not make anyone cry”

lmao that’s daddy Vader’s girl

And that is Anakin and Padmé’s girl <3

Do they have binary classes or did she just learn to interpret by having a droid around from a young age

I’ve got to read up on that it’s important for fanfic reasons

Leia and Lola

Don’t give promises you can’t keep babygirl

You know when we used to talk about a Kenobi movie all i wanted from it was seeing Obi-Wan be sad in the desert and today I’m being finally fed.

Owen vs Ben

“Like you trained his father? Anakin is dead, Ben. I won’t let you make the same mistake twice.”

Might as well stab him in the heart it would hurt less.

Cut off hand count: 1

Is Reva’s Force sense tingling?

Hate to break it to you Reva but Owen’s not dying for nine more years.

Today in Everyone Hates Tatooine

Today in Everyone Wants Obi-Wan

What did he do to her lol

“What I’m owed.”

Like what? Revenge? (Cause her name is Reva) Loads of credits? A promotion? Darth Vader’s attention?

“I didn’t do it for you.”

I knew you would say that you dumb fucking farmer (affectionate) guess what he was probably not saying thank you for himself either

“I didn’t come here to end slavery”,

said most people in Star Wars.

“Then i guess i don’t need manners when I’m talking to you” nice burn.

“You’re not even a real Organa” nah she’s a Skywalker, which is worse

She’s reading your mind cuz

“You have to rise above Leia”

wait til the third trilogy she’ll rise alright

She’s so dramatic i love her

I wonder if her cousin gets blown up with the planet

See, promises she can’t keep

“I know who she’s like”

me too

Bounty hunters?

Who you gonna call?

He’s our only hoe after all 😌

“I’m not who i used to be”

why, because you lost your sparring partner?

Great now i have to go and look up the travel time between Alderaan and Tatooine to know how long it takes for Bail to arrive

Yeah it’s something like 4 days give or take

“You couldn’t save Anakin”

here’s your daily reminder

“There is no one i trust more with my child than you”

hey that’s a sentence I’m sensitive about

Funny how it doesn’t hit the same at all tho 🙃

Ewan has really pretty eyes

A whole army no but I’ll do you one better

Is he

IS HE

digging for his lightsaber?

Did he find it by pinging the kyber?

Oh man i keep pausing on shots of Ewan looking hot that’s not good for my psyche

I’m going to have so much fun drawing him in something else than beige.

I mean come on he has LEATHER GLOVES i love drawing that shit

Ah shit no he was digging for his Jedi robes i hate this show

Bro do you actually wanna get arrested

They really do be hunting themselves

[smol-midgets]

Professor!Andrew AU

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

So his students know how soft he is, but they are also kind of terrified of the short midget. The constant death threats don't help

"Get used to it, you're majoring in criminology"

One day "If you don't want a knife between your ribs I'd recommend being less of a nuisance"

"Professor, you don't have knives"

Andrew looks pointedly at his armbands

".....Do you have knives in your armbands!?"

"Don't ask stupid questions"

They still don't know if he has knives in his armbands

He's staying back after school often, teaching John, some of the strikers from the team also stay back to improve further

On morning of November 4th, Andrew wakes up to Neil gently calling his name

He opens his eyes to find bright blue eyes staring down at him, hair glowing auburn from the sunlight filtering through the windows, and a gorgeous smile

Neil bends down to whisper a soft happy birthday against his lips, before lightly kissing him. "Go brush, Drew, and come out for breakfast"

He comes out for breakfast and sees Neil standing by the counter, preparing pancakes

"You made pancakes?"

"Don't worry I didn't poison them"

"You're cooking is inedible enough, you don't need the poison"

Neil pouts and Andrew has to kiss it away. One kiss turns to two, then ten, and then Andrews setting Neil on the kitchen counter, they're lips not parting the entire time

Andrew gets late for his class

when he gets there, Kevin is sitting at his desk. Students are staring because Kevin Day is sitting in their classroom in front of them

Cue Andrew's "What the fuck are you doing here"

Kevin is out of Andrew's chair in an instant "You're late for your class. And I wanted to tell you to come to that La Guardia restraunt by 6 today"

Andrew narrows his eyes "Why"

"I wanna have dinner with you"

"Why"

"What do you mean why! Can't I wanna have dinner with my best friend on his birthday??" Did he say best friend??? Professor Minyard is best friends with Kevin Day?? And it's his birthday??????

"You were never a good liar"

"I just wanna have dinner with you!"

"Try again"

Kevin's eyes dart around him, as if looking for help

"Spill day, or leave, but stop wasting my time"

*sighs* "Fine, we have a surprise planned for you"

"I hate surprises"

"We know but you'll love this one! I swear! Will you just come to the damned restaurant Andrew!?"

"No"

Kevin tries a little more, but eventually throws his hands in the air and leaves grumbling to himself (Andrew enjoys saying no to Kevin way too much)

"Is it your birthday today professor?"

"Yes"

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I don't care about it" and that was that

When Andrew gets home Neil asks him if he enjoyed his birthday present. When Andrew only raises his eyebrows Neil says "It's been a long time since you really got to say no to Kevin. I know how much you enjoy it. That was your first birthday present. Well... second since this morning" And then smiles cheekily

Andrew rolls his eyes, but they're fond "So are you going to try to convince me to come now?"

"I definitely want you to. We know you don't like surprises but I really thought you'd enjoy this. If you say no nobody is going to force you"

"What will you give me for it?"

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to"

And how could Andrew say no to his junkie now?

So they go to the restraunt, and all the foxes, plus a few other people from Andrew and Neil's old exy team are there (only the people they got close to). Some of Aaron's colleagues are there too. Everyone wishes Andrew and Aaron happy birthday. It's a good reunion, he gets the chance to catch up

Kevin and Aaron drink a lot and get up to weird shenanigans. Matt starts behaving like a puppy and cooing over Dan and Neil. Allison and Nicky start betting on everything and drag the rest of the foxes into it too

Andrew pretends to be annoyed by how he has to deal with the foxes' antics, but he's secretly happy to be around their weirdness again

A few hours later Neil and Andrew leave the party, and Neil takes Andrew to the roof of an abandoned building, where they share whiskey, cigarettes and kisses

They go home and cuddle and fall asleep

The next day his students have prepared an assortment of his favourite chocolates and ice creams (how he manages to maintain that body is a mystery), and a copy of a book he wanted

Andrew is just staring, and at first they think he doesn't like it but then they notice the reverent way he's holding the book (it's a book he's thought of buying for a long time)

"There's even a few cupcakes for your wife here"

"Husband" Andrew corrects automatically, finally able to unstick his tongue from his mouth, "and he doesn't like anything sweet"

Fortunately for them they quickly gather themselves and respond with smiles "Oh sorry. Well, more for you then"

They know better than to think that Andrew will thank them. But when he starts eating what they got him while teaching, they know he liked it

One day students slowly filter in the class to find a man in a large black hoodie sitting at the back of the class

Of course they are criminology students they're not going to just ignore a shady man in their class they've never seen before

So after bugging and threatening the man a little, he lifts his hoodie to reveal

Neil josten

What?!!???!!??

Several students are mortified because they just threatened Neil fucking Josten

Others are still trying to get over their shock at seeing Neil fucking Josten in real life

Andrew enters the class and looks at Neil "Aren't you supposed to be at practice". As if Neil Josten sitting in their classroom is a perfectly normal thing. Right, the only thing weird in this scenario is that he's missing practice. That's it.

Neil responds "I wanted to see you teach"

Andrew narrows his eyes "Did they kick you out? What did you do"

Now Neil looks sheepish "Ah yeah, I kind of hurt myself and Coach forced me to take the day off, but I do want to see you teach."

Andrew is visibly irritated and is grumbling something to himself quietly

The students' eyes are wide because that's probably the most emotion they've seen on their professor's face

He turns to the class and is clearly unimpressed "I don't want to be here either, but that doesn't give you free pass to stare at my face and do nothing. And you," looks pointedly at Neil, "if you're going to sit there you better keep that mouth shut."

Neil considers making a comment about how they might be staring because he's so pretty, but let's it go. However he definitely smirks at Andrew in a way that clearly says "you know how to shut me up"

Andrew tries very hard not to blush, and turns to the board in case he was unsuccessful (he was)

Everyone forcibly look away from the celebrity sitting in their classroom and try to concentrate on the lesson

Andrew makes sure they pay attention (flying chalks make for surprisingly good projectiles)

He finishes his lesson 5-10 minutes early so his students can talk to Neil like they have been dying to the entire time

In his office, later after class, Andrew looks over Neil's injuries

"It's not that bad, Drew. Really I'm f—"

He's interrupted by Andrew's mouth on his. "Don't" is all Andrew says between kisses. Neil smiles

I am SO sorry this part has come this late. I've had a lot on my plate these days. On the bright side, you will be happy to know I've found the super old post that inspired this fic! You can find it here. Credits to @humongousvoidbear for that. (I'll admit this entire fic could be better, but again, this was completely self-indulgent.)

EDIT: I have made a small edition to this part, because someone wanted a meeting of Neil and the students. This is the best I could come up with, hope you like it!

[fruitcoops]

Remus gets injured in a game. I have literally read everything you have written but i'm not sure if you have wrote one like this. If you have, ANOTHER PLZZ

Hello anon! I wove this together with a couple different prompts, listed below:

1. Coops argument

2. Prompt 21: “You need to eat something”

3. Remus gets in a fight with Snape

4. Protective Sirius

5. Coops going home grumpy after losing a game (see link)

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove! TW for fights, blood, bruises, arguments, and someone getting called a wh*re

Snape’s cheek gave easily beneath Remus’ fist, which was a tad bit surprising. He wrapped his other hand in the neckline of his jersey, yanking him back in to land another punch to the side of his head—that would leave a nasty bruise in the morning. Stars sparkled in his vision as Snape got a lucky shot in and he doubled down, ignoring the thin line of pain that trickled down his chin.

“Break it up, boys, that’s enough!” The referee’s whistle blew as he and another pried Remus’ hands off Snape’s jersey; someone took him by the shoulders and pushed him away from the fight. Pots.

“Say it again!” Remus shouted at Snape as the refs and their teammates continued pulling them apart. “Say it again and I’ll knock your fucking teeth in!”

James’ hold on him faltered for a second as another person skated over and tried to join the melee. “Cap, no!”

“Move, Pots.”

“Loops won the fight, it’s done. Let’s just keep playing.” James shoved both their chests hard enough to send them back a few inches, but Remus’ blood boiled as he ground his mouthguard between his teeth. He glanced up at the clock—3:16 left in the third, Snakes up by two. Their win was almost guaranteed and Snape was still pulling this bullshit.

He skated quickly over to the bench and mumbled his thanks to Hestia as she pressed some gauze to his lip and ice to his cheek. “Lupin, you’re in for the rest of the game,” Coach Weasley said, tapping him on the arm with his playboard. “Anything broken?”

“No, Coach.”

“Then get your ass back out on the ice and score some points. We need some speed.”

He could feel the fury rolling off Sirius as they wove through the Snakes’ defense, shooting again and again to no avail. Frustration built up in every nerve—he was worried about the win, of course, but mostly he was pissed. Pissed at Snape, pissed at James for pushing him, and pissed at Sirius for butting into the fight.

Remus scored a final goal just as the buzzer sounded. Hissing filled the stadium, even though it was a home game. Snape smirked at him as he skated past and the only thing keeping him from dragging him right back in by his greasy hair was the possible suspension.

The shower was cold, because of course the fucking shower was cold. Remus shoved his stuff in his duffel and waited outside the locker room, silently fist bumping the guys as they left. God, he hated losing games. It was inevitable, but it always felt shitty.

“How’s the lip?” Sirius asked when he finally came out, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Fine. What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“You butted into my fight. Nobody asked you to.”

Sirius’ eyebrows rose. “Re, he called you—”

“Yeah, I know what he called me,” Remus snapped, practically slamming the door to the parking lot closed. “I was there.”

The only reason you’re on this team is because you’re the captain’s whore, Snape had sneered. He bit the inside of his cheek as his anger flared at the memory. “I was just trying to help,” Sirius grumbled.

“Well, you didn’t. You proved his fucking point.”

“I didn’t prove shit!” Sirius scoffed as they got in the car. Immediately, Remus felt claustrophobic.

“I had it handled, Sirius!”

“You’re still bleeding!”

Remus ran his tongue along his lip—sure enough, the salty tang of blood filled his mouth. He swore under his breath and held his sleeve to his lip; his cheekbone throbbed and he knew it would be swollen in mere hours.

“Here.”

“I don’t need that.”

“You’d rather stain your sleeve than accept a tissue from me?”

“It’s a black sweatshirt, it’s fine.” Sirius muttered something. “Care to share with the class?”

Sirius sighed as he turned off the freeway. “I said it was your idea to keep these here in the first place. I don’t know why you’re being all pissy with me. We’ve lost games before.”

“I’m pissed because you don’t think I can handle myself in a fight.”

Sirius took his eyes off the road for a half second in shock. “Excuse me? Why do you think that?”

“I just told you!” Remus said, exasperated. “Snape was being a dick, so I punched him. I didn’t need your hero complex to swoop in and save the day.”

“Re, I didn’t even get a hand on him. Pots—”

“Oh, I’m pissed at him as well,” Remus snorted, staring out the passenger window at the blurry lights against the dark. “If someone calls me a whore, I’d rather get the message across that they can’t do it again.”

“Would you rather have gotten a penalty?”

“Yes.”

“That is unbelievably selfish.”

Remus laughed without humor. “Y’know, it’s really funny that you’ve never had this conversation with Logan, the king of the penalty box. Is it because he’s not a delicate flower like me?”

“Wh—” Sirius clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Remus. I have never seen you as a—a delicate flower. For your information, I have chewed Logan out on multiple occasions.”

Remus gritted his teeth and trained his gaze firmly out the window. He heard Sirius sigh next to him and it took every ounce of willpower to keep his composure. The next ten minutes were dead silent and deeply uncomfortable, which was a rarity with them; even after losses, they would talk through the errors or try to lighten the mood.

Both of them closed their doors a little harder than necessary when they got to the house and Hattie trotted over hesitantly when they came inside. “Hey, Hatters,” Remus murmured, crouching down to her level and holding a hand out. She licked his cheek and let him bury his face in her thick fur—Sirius scratched her ears as he walked past. “Did you have a good time while we were out? Huh, baby girl?” He looked up and saw the tail end of Sirius’ eye roll. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Sirius, it doesn’t work. I’m giving the dog a hug because I’m still pissed at you.”

“There is literally no good reason for you to be pissed at me!” Sirius finally said, tossing his keys into the bowl by the door. “Holy shit, Re, I don’t even think you’re mad at me!”

“Oh, yeah? Then who am I mad at, oh great and wise captain?” Remus practically spat, shouldering past him into the kitchen and wrenching a cabinet open. “Please enlighten me.”

“I wish I knew!”

Remus slammed the bread down on the counter and glared at him. “Then maybe you should shut the fuck up if you don’t have anything to support your claim.”

“Acting like this is a goddamn debate club isn’t helping. Your lip is bleeding again.”

“Fuck.” Remus ripped a paper towel off the roll and dampened it, holding it to his lip with a wince. Sirius opened the freezer and dug around for a moment with another paper towel. “I don’t remember you getting hit.”

“This is for you, you stubborn fucker,” Sirius said as he walked over and pressed it gently to the side of Remus’ face. “Better?”

“…a bit.”

The tension on Sirius’ face began to fade; he just looked concerned as he pulled the ice away and checked the bruise. “Your eye might swell.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you actually want to talk now, or should we yell a little more?”

Remus sighed and felt his anger abate. He was beyond exhausted, and still upset, but having Sirius nearby was like balm on a burn. “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to make some sandwiches. Hold this.” Sirius tapped the ice towel and moved to the abandoned loaf, grabbing some peanut butter and jelly as he went.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something.”

“I’m fine.”

Sirius glanced over his shoulder and gave him a look. “I know you, Re. You’re not going to feel better unless you get some food, and neither will I.”

“I hate it when you’re reasonable.”

“No, you don’t.”

Remus’ lack of response was enough of an answer. The pain stretched to his forehead and he grimaced, prodding his lip cautiously. Sirius whistled for Hattie and spread the leftover peanut butter from the knife onto a clean spoon, holding it down for her to lick. A smile tugged the corner of Remus’ mouth. “Cute.”

“I can be cute on occasion.”

“You’re always cute.” There was a beat of quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Not for interrupting the fight?”

“Nope.”

“That’s fair.” Something tickled at the back of Remus’ throat. “I fucking hate Snape.”

“Me, too.”

“Surprisingly enough, it feels pretty shitty to be called a whore. Who would’ve thought?”

Sirius turned and faced him, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His eyes were soft. “You know that’s not true, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Remus. What he said wasn’t true. You have nothing to prove to anyone on the team, least of all to me. You earned that spot on the roster fair and square, and Snape’s just freaked out because there’s another player who could grind him into the dust without breaking a sweat.” He stepped closer and leaned on the counter next to Remus, leaving a few inches between them. “I don’t think you’re a whore, if that means anything.”

Remus laughed softly. “Of all the people out there, I think you’re the only one who could reliably make that assumption.”

Sirius didn’t smile. “You’re my best friend and also my fiancé. The sex is a great bonus, but my favorite part of being with you is just being with you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Remus muttered, though the sharp edges began to smooth in his gut. He closed the distance between them and laid his head on Sirius’ shoulder. “Love you.”

“I love you, too. Can I take a look at your lip?”

“Sure.” Remus peeled the towel away and Sirius bent slightly, poking the area around it. “Ouch.”

“That’ll probably take a week or so to heal. He got you good.”

Remus pouted. “No kisses for a week?”

Sirius did laugh that time, bright and sunny enough that Remus nearly made his lip bleed again with the answering smile. “I said nothing about no kisses.” Warm lips trailed from his unbruised cheekbone to the edge of his mouth, leaving tiny tingles in their wake.

“I really am sorry about what I said. You were right, I wasn’t angry with you, and I had no right to go off like that.”

Sirius shrugged. “It happens.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Then let’s agree to talk first, bite heads off later, okay?” He held his pinky out and Remus linked it with his own, kissing it quickly.

“Deal. Are the sandwiches done? I’m starving.”

Wordlessly, Sirius handed him a sandwich and hopped up to sit on the counter, scooting over to make room for Remus to join him. They ate quietly, swinging their legs as the calmness of the kitchen crept back in once more.

[elysianslove]

hi! how have you been since the hell that ensued after halloween is?

also could you do a batboys college au? like their major and how the reader would meet them and all that jazz? 👉👈

-🐥

hi anon!! i’m not sure what ur talking about @ the halloween stuff hvsdhjs but! here are the batboys hc’s! i’m not very familiar with duke thomas’s character enough to write about him tbh, so he’s not included here :( but if you want me to add him let me know!! i hope you enjoy!!

dick grayson

out of all the batboys i really didn’t know how to choose a major for him

but

i think he’d do law tbh, specifically criminal law 

his main motivation to become a police officer in bludhaven had been to be able to help people in any way he can 

i forgot if it’s canon or not but he does realize how corrupt it is and he quits but that’s another thing we won’t get into that lmao 

anyways yes let’s just stick with law 

meeting you ! 

he shares one or two courses with you

one that’s really early in the morning 

and one that’s later on in the afternoon 

dick is like a magnetic okay

anywhere he goes people are just attracted to him

like literally he will breathe 

but someone call the ambulance there’s a person that’s passed out bc of how beautiful he is

but this is an 8 am class 😃

so there’s no way ur awake enough to notice him

coincidentally he sits next to you one time

and this is the one time

you decide

yeah lemme just fkn sleep is uni even worth it 

dick definitely notices right away but he doesn’t say anything 

he thinks you look so cute passed out on your desk like this 🥺

when the professor signals the end of the class, he watches as people file out and then he just leans over and nudges you slightly 

you nearly punch him bc he scared you ❤️

he just laughs and goes “class is over” 

you just sigh like the guilt starts to hit you and your heart begins to sink

and he sees your disappointed face and just goes 

“i took a lot notes. i can share them w you?”

lifesaver in every single way dick grayson 😻😻😻

you had another class that you had to run to and you were rushing

he was like “dw i’ll just give them to you whenever i see you next” 

and you 🏃🏻‍♀️ outta there

imagine ur surprise when u enter class at 12 pm and he’s there in all his glory 

after the lecture is over, he walks up to you as you’re packing and asks if you want to go to the coffee shop nearby 

to take his notes of course

and you finally register just how handsome he is 

so obviously you say yes wtf

and the rest is history 😼

he asks you out, properly, pretty early on tbh 

so unfazed lmfao 

now you take naps on his shoulder instead of the desk 💞💞💞

soooo into pda 

kisses u when he first sees you

when you’re parting ways

when he feels like it

straight up cuddles w during lectures i’m not even joking 

it’s disgusting how cute you two are 

gets you coffee for all those 8 am classes u have w him hehe

study dates always turn into karaoke sessions somehow don’t even ask lmao

jason todd

english literature 

this is a collective agreement right? 

right

definitely english literature 

i dont even think he wants to go to uni but he’s going to waste time plus this is bruce’s money 😏🤑

your major doesn’t necessarily have to be english literature as well

but you share one class

and my god 

you two disagree on everything

like every little thing

at this point if he says something and you slightly agree internally you’ll still say some opposing shit 

that’s kinda what draws you to him 

at first you genuinely had nothing against him

but then this kind of rivalry developed for no specific reason 

but it was fun

and he was hot

so seeing him get flustered or angry made him even hotter somehow 

but then

but t h e n

you’re not sure if your professor like ships you or something

so you’re assigned a debate topic on one of the books you’d discussed in class/one of the books you’ve read outside, and within each group are the two sides for and against 

not only were you in the same team as jason, but you were on the same side as him

so you had to work with him

the audacity of the professor omg 

but jason needs this course 

and 

well you don’t but it’s too late to back out now 

you two meet in the campus library after deciding on a book with the other two of your team

and 

honestly??? 

you two work so well together 

like insanely well

during the debate you destroyed the other team 

spoiler alert 

doing so well with jason kinda made you like hot and bothered 

seeing him in his zone

sexy <3 

what i mean to say is

you both end up making out in some storage room lmfao 

or hate sex 😏

professor has a phd in matchmaking 🤔😻

i think you two don’t admit you like each other

bc you’re both stubborn as fuck

but eventually you’re literally on his lap on his couch and it just hits you

and you lean back and go

“wanna go out w me” 

and he just shrugs and goes “sure” and pulls you in for more kissing hehe

he’s not v good at the boyfriend thing tbh

you have to chase him around and be like “sir!!! did u forget about me huh!!!”

he doesn’t mean to i promise

he gets all blushy and flustered once he realizes 

only ever into pda if he’s insanely jealous 

will straight up make out w u regardless of where u are or who ur with lmfao 

he’s still getting used to the little intimacies and all 

debates in class are so much more fun now cause he finds it so hot when u get all riled up hehe

that eng lit professor is so happy for you two omg

tim drake

okay i also couldn’t really decide for him

but maybe he’d study something like physics (or maybe computer engineering/computer science) 

idk u have to have a death wish to wanna major in physics so tim’s major it is

i’m not sure how it works for every other uni but my uni requires 6 credits of sciences to graduate 

so let’s say for the sake of this hc u take like just the first level of physics to get 3 credits 

and 

you’re struggling 😃👍🏼

so you like approach your professor with a few questions before the quiz 

but tim is also there

and he kinda makes small talk while you two wait outside the office

and he asks why you’re here

you show him

and he’s like “oh i took this course w the same professor as well, i could help?” 

it’s like an angel had descended from the heavens for you personally 

you take his number and decide to meet up with him after a few hours 

he’s of so much more help than your professor would’ve been, even if ur prof is a really nice and smart person 

and he’s super like

patient with you? 

also he pays for all the coffee and snacks you’re getting after you already get them 

ur like bruh i didnt 

dont pay pls

and he’s like no im loaded let me 😼

swooning <3 

and guess what!! 

you ace the quiz out of some miracle

first thing you do is text him and he congratulates you 

and then

bc ur not blind and tim is so fucking cute

you’re like “can i take u out to thank u” 

tim’s brain stops working but ! 

he does say yes eventually 

he becomes your designated physics tutor + your amazing boyfriend

being with tim is so like

chill

it’s a very relaxed time 

lots of study dates! and cafe dates! all hours of the day whether the sun is up or not 

into pda but to a certain degree 

like yes of course have a kiss pretty baby 

but also it will only be a small peck

any time anyone passes by like common rooms you two will be there snuggling on the couch, one or both of you completely passed out 

damian wayne

business major 100% 

or a bsba econ major, which is basically the business side of economics 

he has to take over his father’s company one day duh 

also i genuinely think damian would excel in this field 

he’s a very keeps to himself kinda guy in uni

like you only ever see him in your common classes and then he just

disappears 

anyways there was this party that everyone was going to, and damian wasn’t planning to

but dick accidentally read some groupchat’s messages and was like are u going

damian went 🏃🏻‍♀️

but dick was like go and try to make friends !!!! 

and dames cant say no to his big bro 🥺 so he goes

stays in a corner on the settings app the entire time

like half an hr in he just leaves and is walking home/back to his dorm when you come like rushing up to him 

you’re zooming 

and then you just latch onto his hand and lean up to press a kiss to his cheek, whispering in his ear “this person’s been following me for like 15 mins just please go along w this” 

he kinda stiffens but when he does notice that there’s a person eyeing you he slips his arm around your waist and just carries on walking

he walks you to your home/dorm and is like

so awkward 

but it’s okay ! ur a people’s person enough for the two of you 

you thank him so much over and over 

and then you’re like 

“can i take you out on a real date?” 

and then he becomes ur real boyfriend hehe

is still super stiff but it’s only bc he’s so hyper aware of how attractive you are

and i’m super positive he doesn’t have that much experience with dating so 

you hold the reigns 

but he’s a great boyfriend all in all tbh 

super attentive, super protective, and so loving 

isn’t into pda especially on college campus but he does like subtle pda

things like linking your pinkies or giving you his hoodie to just parade around campus hehe

end note; i’m sorry if these feel rushed or anything like. i used to be an avid writer for the batboys, but i just haven’t been feeling it lately. i still love to write from them bc i know these boys so well eeeeppp. anyways feel free to request some more!!

[raleighcarrera]

outpoint

foreign affairs | m!blaine hayes x mc (kennedy monroe)

a cut scene from chapter 4; after dionne’s party, blaine and kennedy work on their project a little bit and then not at all.

catch up: knockout (E) / on the ropes (T)

tagging: @pixeljazzy ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixelsandkink ; @writinghereandthere ; @choicesarehard ; @natesewell ; @flyawayboo ; @withbeautyandrage ; @blainehellyes

~3.3k words | T

it would be easier not to be seen together if not for the fact that they’re no where near done with their project. in fact, they’ve barely even started.

there’s also the added complication of their less-than-platonic relationship; they’re far from just classmates, or even friends. 

everything feels like it’s gotten out of control so quickly.

but he hadn’t planned for this. he’d agreed to go to vancross because it was that or the campaign trail; when he’d first arrived on campus, blaine had expected to coast through his classes, party until he forgot how pissed off at his parents he was and wait out the boring political drama unfolding back home with a few more years of school.

he hadn’t expected her. 

to their credit, his father’s advisors had done their best to warn him. still, he’d slept through so many briefings before packing up and heading out that he lost count -- going to vancross was supposed to be a reprieve from being blaine hayes, a chance to get out from under his parents’ noses. the first daughter of rutherland was a nonissue, hardly part of the equation at all.

...then he’d met her, and she’d called him a jackass with that cute little challenging sparkle in her eyes, and a part of him that had long since been quiet slowly stirred awake again.

and now he’s here: playing it so cool that kennedy is clearly starting to doubt whether he even likes her at all, fidgety and tense where she’s doing her very best to pretend to be engrossed in her textbook, sitting right beside him on the couch in her suite. 

her bodyguard is definitely glaring at him, too. 

blaine looks away, clearing his throat and nudging kennedy with his shoulder. “hey,” he murmurs, voice purposefully low, “i think i found something.”

it’s only when she blinks at him curiously that he realizes he has absolutely nothing at all to offer her and only wanted an excuse to break the silence between them. he points to a random passage in the book in his lap. “we can use this for our argument.”

kennedy looks down at the section he’s indicated and then stares back at him as though he’s one of the dumbest people she’s ever had the displeasure of talking to. rather than wilt under the disappointment in her eyes, he only smiles charmingly back at her, until she heaves a sigh and says, “maybe you should just work on our citations.” 

god, no. anything but that. panicked, he grabs for the book she’s holding before she can retreat silently into its pages, burying her nose in the spine and refusing to look at him like she has been for the last hour. “look,” he starts, tongue darting out to wet his lips. the sudden spike of nervousness that flares up within him is... new, to say the least. he needs a plan. “can we talk privately for a minute?”

she looks past him, quirking an eyebrow at her bodyguard. there’s a beat or two of silent communication between them that makes him feel uneasy and a sharp twist of her mouth before he hears the front door open and shut, and then they’re alone.

blaine exhales, jumping to his feet. “okay -- come on.” 

he crosses the room without waiting for a response from her, prying open one of the windows in her kitchen. his head leans out to judge the distance to the cobblestones beneath them; it’ll be a bit of a jump, but he’s had worse. when he looks back at kennedy, she’s still blinking at him owlishly. “uh, what are you doing?”

“we’re ditching your bodyguard,” he grins, more confidently than he feels. it is kind of funny how she’s looking at him, like he just suggested a bank heist. “come on. he’ll be back any second.”

kennedy glances at the front door, then rushes over to meet him at the window. “but -- why -- we’re supposed to be working on our project.”

he arches his eyebrows at her, unimpressed. “and we’re obviously not making any headway. plus, i can tell you’re distracted, and since i’m pretty sure that’s my fault... i want to fix it.” well, those are words he’s almost definitely never said to anyone before. to cover up his own surprise at himself, and how uncomfortably true they ring, he widens his grin and asks, “don’t you trust me?”

as soon as she leans around him to peer down at the length of the drop, he knows he’s won. “not enough to go first.”

blaine winks at her before deciding to hell with it, leaning out the window and jumping down to the ground, wincing when his shoes slam against the pavement. fuck. that probably wasn’t worth a shot at impressing her.

though it is worth being in the perfect position to catch her, when she slips from the windowsill and straight into his arms, windswept and adorable. her trip down had been clumsy and imprecise, with all the grace of someone who had probably never snuck out of anywhere before. 

before he can stop himself, he lifts a hand to her face to brush her hair back behind her ear. she smiles at him, as his fingertips graze her temple, and for a moment it’s like they both forget who and where they are.

it’s terrifying. 

he sets kennedy down on her feet as quickly as he can, reaching for her wrist to tug her through the courtyard. “come on.”

“where are we going?” she asks, stumbling to catch up with him, “and -- slow down, jesus. i can’t run in these shoes. no one’s chasing us, anyway.”

right. he knows that. he’s done this plenty of times -- evaded his own security detail so frequently he could probably do it in his sleep. he’s snuck plenty of pretty girls around behind guards, including this pretty girl just a few days ago. there’s no reason he should be off his game now.

blaine shakes his head at himself and then slows to a stop, finally dropping kennedy’s wrist back to her side. “well, you can’t ever be too sure,” he muses, pleased to find that they’re definitively alone, no other students or faculty or wayward paparazzi following behind them. “but you’re off the grid, now. how’s it feel?”

kennedy pauses, then unleashes a blinding grin that’s a little bit dazzling. “i see why you do this all the time.”

he hums his agreement, trying not to stare at her smile. “we’re not even at our final destination yet.”

she makes an interested noise that he tries not to find sexy and fails. no one ever said he didn’t have a one-track mind. “where are we going?”

“you’ll see,” blaine promises, his own smirk sharpening as soon as they reach the gate and his hands find it unlocked. some state-of-the-art security.

kennedy falters beside him as he holds the wrought-iron out wide for her. “we didn’t fill out any paperwork.”

that’s true. but it would’ve been impossible to ask for permission when the plan was still only half-baked in his mind, sprung into being just twenty minutes ago. “we’ll be back before anyone notices,” he assures her, “except maybe your shadow.”

kennedy rolls her eyes, but his teasing does the trick. she saunters out of the gate with him without a glance back. “tatum’s just doing his job.”

“right,” blaine scoffs, “that’s all he’s doing.” 

there’s a pause that feels just a touch too long before kennedy carefully asks, “what do you mean?” 

“i mean --” he adopts the most casual tone of voice he can muster. it still feels like not enough, making him instantly regret dancing around this topic of conversation. “it just seems like there’s something else going on between you two.”

yep. kennedy smirks wide, as obviously delighted as any one person can look. he should’ve seen that coming. “is that so?”

“don’t be smug,” he mutters, hunching his shoulders in when a group of random strangers walk past them on the sidewalk. 

“no, i’m going to,” kennedy argues, looking unfairly cute as she does the same, mimicking his movements. god, he hates her. “tell me, what do you think is going on between us?”

“only if you tell me why you’ve been so quiet,” he fires back, leading them off down a side street. “you’ve been weird ever since we got back from pavadena.”

“i have not,” kennedy insists immediately, though when he looks her way again while they wait for the light to change so they can cross the street he sees she’s biting down anxiously on her bottom lip. “i’m not even supposed to be seen with you.”

“i know.” he’s not, either. yet here they both are, in broad daylight together, in the middle of town. “so?”

“so, i’m risking a lot, and it’s like, for what? you didn’t even -- you’ve barely spoken to me, too.” she looks embarrassed by the admission, avoiding his gaze while she stares at the sidewalk instead. “when other people are around, you act like... it’s nothing. me and you.”

blaine frowns. it’s unexpected, how hurtful it is to hear her say that in the soft tone of voice she’s using, uncertain and uncomfortable. she shouldn’t sound like that. “isn’t that what you want?”

she sighs, hesitating for a moment before opening her mouth again. “i --” kennedy cuts off abruptly, leaning to the side to peer around his shoulder. with a sheepish shrug, he realizes they’ve reached their destination, and that kennedy’s stopped talking because of the music playing, trying its best to lure them across the street and into the carnival. “oh my god,” she laughs, her whole face transforming from shy to excited so quickly it makes his head spin, “how did you know this was here?”

her reaction is worth any potential disaster waiting for them back on campus. it might even be worth the ass kicking that’s definitely heading his way from that surly bodyguard of hers, too. “doesn’t matter. come on.”

they jog across the street with their heads down, though as soon as they’re actually on the fairgrounds he realizes there’s no need to look over their shoulders; it’s the middle of the day and the carnival is pretty much empty, a wayward toddler being chased by an au pair the only other sign of life on the premises besides a few bored looking workers hanging out of their booths. 

“god, i haven’t been to something like this in ages,” kennedy gushes, already dragging him over to a big table marked tickets. “this is amazing.”

the thing is -- he knows exactly what she means. growing up like they did, being who they are, it’s impossible to do anything normal. he can’t remember the last time he had an afternoon out that was as mundane as this one, either. even date night with his last girlfriend had become a production; nothing was ever just dinner and a movie.

instead of acknowledging her gratitude, he shoves her out of the way with his shoulder and opens his wallet for the most tickets the teenager behind the counter will give him. kennedy completely ignores him while he pays, twisted around to look out over the fairgrounds, cataloging every offering with wide, overeager eyes. somehow she makes this traveling carnival that’s absolutely seen better days feel like a luxury destination, and as he passes the tickets over to her blaine finds that his smile is tough to dampen, despite his best efforts to keep his expression contained.

they burn through a good chunk of the tickets throwing baseballs at milk bottles -- mostly because kennedy insists she can knock down more than he can, and that simply won’t do. he refuses to stop until he’s won her the biggest prize they have available, an obnoxiously pink stuffed elephant with giant, floppy ears. 

fortunately, there’s still enough tickets left for the fun house and the photo booth and every other stupid thing she wants to do that he pretends to hate but doesn’t, until eventually the sun’s starting to set and he knows their afternoon out is coming to an end. 

“we should head back,” blaine suggests regretfully, watching her pick her way through the giant cotton candy he probably shouldn’t have bought for her with a mix of disgust and pride. “we’ve been gone awhile.”

“have we?” kennedy blinks, as though she’s only now noticing how late it’s gotten. “ugh. one more ride -- i have to finish this.”

“you don’t,” he remarks with amusement, noting the tips of her dyed-blue fingers even as they walk off indulgently towards the only ride they’ve yet to approach. “you can just throw it out.”

“that’s quitter’s talk,” she says through a mouthful of melting sugar, chewing with her cheeks bulged out while blaine uses the last of their tickets to get them onto the ferris wheel, which is completely abandoned except for the two of them, as far as he can tell. 

once the door is shut and they take off it’s the most alone they’ve been in awhile. the last time they were this secluded was in the kitchen in pavadena, when he’d licked frosting off her fingers and she’d looked at him like maybe she wanted him to kiss her, too -- like maybe she wanted even more than that.

sort of like how she’s looking at him now, doe eyes wide and nervous, the cogs of her mind very clearly turning into overdrive behind them.

it seems so obvious, now, staring at her in the cart. of course she’d wanted him to kiss her on dionne’s birthday. she’d dressed up, searching for a sincere compliment that she hadn’t gotten and invited him to dance in the hopes that if she made the first move he’d make the finishing one, like they’d done before. and he hadn’t even realized it.

so -- he probably is as stupid as everyone thinks he is. 

the ferris wheel creaks around them as they slowly ascend to the top, old machinery groaning while they climb higher and higher. it feels like it takes forever for him to sort his thoughts into a sentence that’s actually passable, but for once, he wants to be careful about what he says. “i didn’t mean to make you think i don’t care.”

he hears her inhale. kennedy flicks her gaze out at the view behind him, then bravely looks back at his face. “no?”

“no,” he confirms, shrugging helplessly again. “this is new to me.” even this conversation is beyond him.

but judging by the look on her face, he’s yet to colossally fuck up. that’s good. “me, too,” she admits, leaning in a little closer across the metal bench they’re both sitting on. “it’d be weird even if we weren’t... us.”

except that who they are has nothing to do with why this is so strange for him. kennedy could be from antartica, and he’d still be the unlucky bastard who finally met someone he thinks understands him and has botched talking to her about it at every opportunity. 

well, there’s one thing he knows he can still execute perfectly. as the ferris wheel glides to a stop for them to take in the view, the setting sun streaming in picturesquely through the little window in the cart, he leans in and kisses her, hands fanning out low over the small of her back.

kennedy tastes like cotton candy and her hands are sticky when they cup his face -- sticky like they would have been if he’d seen the signs for what they were and kissed her in pavadena like he’d wanted to, if he’d taken advantage of the rare moment alone in the way he was now, crowding her back into the corner of the cart with a grip that he knows is probably too tight.

but she kisses him back just as urgently as he’s kissing her, dragging him in closer and biting at his mouth. she’s kissing him like she’s been thinking about this, too -- like she’s found it even a fraction as all-consuming as he has, late at night when he can’t get to sleep and he’s staring at his ceiling cursing the absurdity of it all.

the moment is gone in the blink of an eye. the ferris wheel lurches back into motion with a sound that would be alarming if he wasn’t so distracted, the cart swaying in the wind as they slowly come down the other side of the circle.

she pulls away despite blaine’s best efforts to keep her in his personal space, his hands still firm on her hips. “blaine,” she murmurs, so prettily he actually has to shut his eyes -- just for a second -- just to catch his breath -- 

light spills into the cart as the door is wrenched open. they’re on the ground again, and there’s a line of kids waiting for their turn on the ride. going up had felt like forever, but the descent was done before he could even figure out what he wanted to say. 

they make their way back to the street silently. blaine is so lost in thought it takes him a minute to realize kennedy is on the phone, wincing and rushing to promise the world to whoever she’s talking to -- that they’d only run out for a little, that she was perfectly safe, that she’d be back soon. tatum, she mouths at him as soon as he catches her eye, though as she talks he finds it hard to do anything but stare at the blue corners of her mouth, where she probably still tastes like cloyingly sweet artificial sugar.

he half expects an ambush to be waiting for them at the vancross gates, but it’s quiet when they head back across the quad. after a few steps in the direction of kennedy’s dorm, blaine’s horrified to find that he’s dragging his feet, reluctant to let what was probably one of the better days of his adult life come to an end.

this is going to be a problem.

they stop on the side of her building, out of sight from any students who may be using the main entrance. kennedy clears her throat, then announces, “well... this was fun. consider me -- fixed. i think i’ll be able to get my head in the game, now.”

he should make a joke. she’s lobbed up the spike perfectly, all he has to do is hit it. he’s done it a thousand times before -- it should be as easy as breathing.

instead, he finds himself staring at her. blaine ignores what she’s said. “it’s not nothing.”

kennedy blinks. “huh?”

well -- saying it once was one thing. repeating it is something else entirely. he shoves his hands deep into his pockets, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. “you. this. it’s not nothing... to me.”

she’s smiled at him a lot since they’ve met, in pretty much every way imaginable: exasperated, fond, excited, alluring. none of them compare to the way she’s looking at him now, her whole face lit up with joy.

the kiss she presses to his cheek is soft, yet still so heavy. there’s a promise of something that makes him feel off-kilter weighted beneath it, and his stomach unknots as he realizes he’s said the right thing. “me either. goodnight, blaine.”

she disappears around the corner, pink elephant tucked up under her arm, half-finished bag of cotton candy dangling from her free hand. he watches her go, shaking his head at himself again and running his fingers through his hair once she’s out of sight.

ideally she’d be out of his mind, now, too, but he’s starting to realize there’s just about nothing that can make that happen and, if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t really want it, anyway.

you just went on a date, chirps an annoying little voice in the back of his mind. 

huh.

so he did.

for the first time since he came to this stupid school, blaine whistles on the way back to his room.

[locktobre]

bcbd thoughts

right away I see that this is only an hour long, so... it’s not a movie, then. it’s a one hour special, again. I feel like I’m already gonna miss the extra 20 minutes just like dolphin magic but we’ll see I guess. maybe it’ll be a mercy that it’s shorter.

the opening credits/dream sequence was nice. the animation on the city is decent, and the monochrome thing was kind of cool.

her being on stage reminded me a little of Eden, and then immediately I missed Eden so much. they would never let a version of Babs be a bitch now and that’s such a shame.

so now we’re joking about George tracking Barbie’s cell phone? bc that’s fine and not at all an invasion of privacy or anything. also, you can check flight statuses on the internet so that’s really not necessary. also, why the fuck didn’t Barbie call them once she got off the plane? or at least text? I always text or call my mom when I land, and frankly I’m not even as close to my mom as Barbie claims to be to her parents. and I did that when I was 17 traveling alone, too, so it’s not just something I do as an adult. it’s part of the responsibility of traveling to let ppl know that you got somewhere safe so they don’t worry about you. what the fuck Babs.

was that honking supposed to be like censoring the cabbie swearing bc I would love that. let the cabbie say fuck.

I still maintain that this “summer program” thing is bullshit and Babs should have been going off to college. I know they won’t let her grow up but it makes more sense than this does. also, you’re telling me there’s no summer programs for acting/whatever in LA? seriously? she HAD to go across the country for this? and her parents let her? they don’t even trust her! they said that 2 seconds ago! or is tracking her cell phone the reason she’s allowed to travel across the country (to Willows and Florida and Hawaii) by herself in the first place? I hate this I hate it so much already

The Handler Arts Academy... oh I’m feeling emotions

“luck’s got nothing to do with it. you worked your tail off for this” SHOW ME FOR WHEN, PLEASE. this could have been an actual arc of the show, a goal Barbie was working towards that could thread thru multiple episodes... but no. this came out of nowhere. I’m STILL saying that Amelia bought Barbie’s place here bc FUCK YOU SHOW

“I hope I’m good enough” you’re a mediocre rich white woman, you can do literally anything you want.

why is her guitar shoved in a cardboard box and not, idk, in a guitar case? that’s stupid. also, that’s an open cardboard box, so how did that travel on the plane? a closed cardboard box, fine. should be a suitcase, but fine. but this just makes no sense and I am not going to let it slide bc I hate this continuity and everything about it.

however, I will give Brooklyn a pass for the open cardboard box bc she literally lives in NYC and didn’t have to take a fucking plane to get here. she can carry it like that if she wants.

“as long as you don’t break [my leg], we’re good” I’ve already seen Brooklyn in a cast, so... does Malibu literally break her leg later on? even on accident... jesus christ.

is this Russian(?) custodian lady gonna be the antagonist/villain? bc I’m already not vibing with that. not at fucking all.

how the FUCK could they show up a day early? why would they not show up on the day they’re supposed to? that doesn’t make any sense! and if they’re NOT supposed to be there yet, then there would be no staff there to watch them, so they should have to come back tomorrow! they shouldn’t be allowed to be by themselves in a school like this! I’m assuming this is to facilitate a day of bonding without stupid things like classes in the way, but they could have written an orientation day or something in that would have made more sense, and as I said, I am not inclined to give them a pass on anything these days. fuck you all.

so, room assignments are alphabetical... I guess that kind of explains them being in the same room, altho it does feel coincidental that they wouldn’t be, like, in neighboring rooms. also they didn’t animate little signs on the other doors, even with nonsense text if they didn’t want to put other names up, so their door really sticks out for no reason. also, shouldn’t it say “Barbie Roberts & Barbie Roberts” or some other way of having both names on the door? also, if the school knows they have the same name, couldn’t they put middle initials or something? we know Malibu is Barbie M. Roberts, and I will generously assume that Brooklyn’s middle name is something else, so that would have been fine. this really feels like the administrators don’t give a fuck, and in a supposedly prestigious school, I don’t buy that.

so, Brooklyn has been training every summer in different programs, very intensely, to get in here... and Malibu trained on the internet. what have I been saying about Malibu’s white mediocrity? hmm?

even after that (lackluster) montage, it feels way too soon for “Before Us.” I don’t believe they’re best friends who warrant a song about their friendship. I don’t believe that at all.

I like the bald fashionista being on the billboard, that’s a nice touch.

Malibu bringing up her vlog like that gives me hives. she has already stated multiple times that she does that to help ppl, not for clout, and yet. here she is. being a fake ass bitch once again.

Brooklyn and Emmie’s story is already way more interesting than this and I’m pissed that’s just backstory.

LOVE that green-haired dude. idk where you’re going with that drum but godspeed my dude.

I’m assuming that’s Emmie incognito in the back, but... what’s she doing here if she’s already famous? pulling an Erika Juno?

Dean Morrison seems cool

(is it too early to ship Brooklyn x Emmie?)

if pets are allowed in this school, I’m SHOCKED Malibu didn’t bring Taffy. truly fucking shocked.

Rafa reminds me so much of Jacques Rousseau

“the only labels we believe in are designer” so Rafa’s gay, right? Barbie’s first gay character? I can only assume

the ballet thing still doesn’t make sense to me, if their goal is to be on Broadway. ballet is an entire art and discipline in itself.

fencing makes more sense, bc stage fighting is a thing.

‘work it’ is even funnier than I imagined. Malibu you’re such a fuck up. and I can’t even cut you some slack bc earlier you said your training was “internet.” you didn’t work for this and you don’t belong here. die.

if this was PCS, Malibu would have been kicked out already. YOU WERE NOT PREPARED FOR THIS. WHAT HAVE I BEEN SAYING FOR MONTHS.

so, the ‘work it’ montage clearly showed the passage of time, it’s been at least a week, and... Malibu hasn’t talked to Ken at all during that time? this is the first time she’s telling him about Brooklyn?

ok, confirmed to be a week. and she hasn’t talked to Ken. of course. they are so close of course she hasn’t talked to him in a week, especially when she’s been struggling so much and would need to vent to a friend about it. of course.

so, Emmie is pulling an Erika Juno. at least she’s in disguise.

jesus christ, they’re really having Emmie be exploited by her own father??? JESUS.

ok Brooklyn x Emmie is sailing.

Brooklyn’s mom is an airline pilot, that sounds cool.

so the dresses are powered by the magic of friendship? cool. that’s stupid.

of COURSE Emmie’s dad is the board member. jesus christ I hate this dude.

okay, so she DIDN’T break her leg, it’s only a sprain. thank god. poor green-haired drum dude.

saying “epic fail” in 2021 unironically is not cool, mattel. unless I’m even more out of touch with the youth than I thought, but I’m pretty sure about that.

wait, so Brooklyn was dancing... and now she’s on crutches again? what is this montage? they fucked up here.

of all things to kick Malibu out for, they’re saying she pushed Brooklyn? why not all the fuck ups in her first week?

also, Rafa was taping that class so how do they not bring that up immediately? that’s the whole reason they were dancing over there in the first place! (so he might not have caught anything, but still, I have to assume that’s going to fix this bc that’s what these movies do.)

I really like Malibu’s leather jacket look, but she does look a little bit old I think. Brooklyn’s leggings look is nice, too.

okay, so Brooklyn suddenly believes the unnamed witness over the girl she sang ‘before us’ with? okay. I told you this friendship was a crock of shit. they don’t trust each other at all! Brooklyn should have been angry when she first fell, and it builds to thinking that she was sabotaged, but she brushed it off... and now she’s pissed. that makes no sense.

this friendship breakup song also means nothing to me bc their friendship fell apart for such a stupid reason. fate didn’t tear you apart, you tore yourselves apart by not trusting each other. stupid little children.

if Brooklyn’s ankle isn’t completely healed aka still painful, she should not be dancing on it, she could injure herself more or at least prolong the healing process.

ok, so NOW, after Malibu has already been expelled and sent back home, they remembered the video. these kids are so fucking stupid. and of COURSE the unnamed witness is Mr Miller! Emmie, you ALREADY KNOW that your dad is shady as shit and wants you to get the Spotlight Solo! HOW DID YOU NOT PUT THIS TOGETHER IN 5 SECONDS? I DID

so, Mr Miller thought Malibu was Emmie’s biggest competition for the solo? Malibu, the spectacular fuck up? not Brooklyn? or any of the background extras? I refuse to fucking believe that. I REFUSE.

how did George and Margaret just let Malibu get expelled without flying out there to fight the charge? seriously?

how is is Brooklyn singing ‘before us’ in-universe such that Malibu recognizes it? you’re breaking the conventions of musicals! I don’t get this!

I like Brooklyn’s mom being a pilot less after it’s been used to facilitate this bullshit part of the plot.

again, just “Barbie Roberts” makes no sense. where’s a middle initial to differentiate them! SOMETHING! I know they’re doing the finale together, but still, it’s STUPID.

shipping Rafa x green-haired drummer dude bc I can

where’s the Emmie doll for this movie?????? I’m so disappointed. also the other outfits, the leather jacket and leggings ones, I swear those weren’t dolls either. what the fuck

I see more fashionistas on billboards at the end! I really like that

so the custodian wasn’t a villain... then why that introduction for her? that went nowhere

is “Big City Big Dreams” supposed to be Emmie’s song? that Malibu lips-synced to on her vlog (apparently)? I can’t tell by the voice and they don’t list the voices for the songs in the credits

overall, once again it largely made no sense. idk if it would have benefitted from 20 extra minutes of screentime bc nothing really happened.

also, what the fuck happened to Mr Miller? he just keeps on exploiting his daughter? and for that matter, what happened to Emmie’s mom? bc she lived with her, and then all of the sudden her dad was in her life again and exploiting her, so... what did mom die? did he kill her? what am I supposed to think? and Emmie’s STILL stuck in that situation? girl. what the fuck

also of course they were too cowardly to confirm anything about Rafa. of course.

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Pink Chains

Pt 3

Kyotani owns a grunge /punk apparel shop after leaving the Sendai Frogs after a incident with the Black Jackals. He designs his own clothes and hires Oikawa & Iwaizumi as his employees. Everything goes smoothly for awhile, till you walk in; pink dress, big smile , and bubbly personality. His whole life stops in that moment. 

Punk! Kyotani x Bubbly! F! Reader. ❤️

Kyo had walked you to school after the both of you had calmed down. He hated seeing you cry jesus christ, it hurt him to his core. All he could think about was those tears running down your pretty face down to your fake smile. He was really falling for you, this was a first for him so he had no idea if what he had been doing was right or what.

You skipped ahead of him, he glanced up a couple times and got a big smile on his face. You had on a blue dress with flats and his jacket on, it was too big for you of course but you insisted on wearing it. And that's when he knew he was doing it right. Seeing you in his clothes and having that big smile on your face that was just for him.

“Kyooo!!! I gotta go!”

He shook his head walking to you and putting his arms around your shoulders. “Do you? Skip sweetie.” He teased looking over you to see people staring.

“Kyo!” You gave him an angry face and he just laughed kissing your head. “I'll turn you into a rule breaker yet. Have a good day sweetie.”

“Not uh!” You squeezed him tightly for a minute. “Dont sweat this morning kay?!? I can fight with you, are you working today?”

Your words cut him deep, sure his friends had his back but this was .. different. You were willing to defend him from anything . Hopefully you never had to do that. He ran his fingers through your head and swayed a bit whispering in your ear. “People are staring,”

You giggled just squeezing him more and Kyo smirked , he placed a light smack on your thigh stepping back chuckling at the little yip you did .

“Kyo!”

“Yeah sweetie i work today but im closing early, beach volleyball with friends . Ill text you when i close up shop okay?”

“You better!!” You placed a kiss on his chest and ran off into the school looking back and waving before disappearing.

Kyo waited till you were in the school before leaving. He shot everyone a smug ass grin too as he made his way down the street. Fuck his car was still at the store.

Kyo was not in any rush to get to work. Hell it was his store whos gonna rage at him? No one . Hes the boss. And besides Iwaizumi is most likely there already opening up the store anyway. The heavy rings on his right hand clicked all around while he made his way down the boardwalk strip , hands in his pockets while he eyed all the shops.

Buncha no good stores. If it didn't cost so much to get his brand up and running he could have a bigger building , or at least a better location-… he stopped walking and shook his head. “That's a terrible idea. Kyotani cmon get it together.” He sighed, rubbing his sleeve. “I would never had met her..”

Bbbbbbeeep

“Mad Dog chaaaaaaan!!!!” A car zoomed up to him skidding to a stop . Oikawa peaked out the window grinning.

**

Meanwhile, you were just getting into the first class of the day. Everyone was sneaking looks at you because of the jacket but you had no idea. You were too caught up on last night to really pay attention. Trying to take your mind off it you pulled a red notebook from your bag to doodle while listening to the teacher.

Soon enough the blank notebook page was full of design ideas; red pandas with hats , clothes and big fluffy tails. The designs were really cute , your teacher even complimented them from time to time . But you really just wanted a brand to pick you up, graduation was soon and you did not want to not have a job lined up.

“Y/n.. hey y/n”

A voice next to you alerted you to look up and over to see Kio, the girl who sat next to you in class.

“Oh hey Kio, whats up?!?”

Kio placed her hand on her head with her elbow on the table looking you over in this jacket. She never really talked to you unless she needed notes and was only taking this class for the credit she needed .

“That jacket is so different from what you wear y/n. Where'd ya get it?”

You were about to answer her but heard a snicker behind you , must be Yukio, Kios friend, also in need of credits for graduation. Would probably be best not to mention the store, Kyo did not need the harassment.

“Its my boyfriend's jacket!” You told them pulling it close with a big smile on your face.

Kio and Yukio locked eyes then looked at you .

“Boyfriend?” Kio asked.

“Looks like he has the opposite style as you y/n.” Yukio chimed in , leaning over her table. “Was he that guy with you this morning?”

“Yep!!!”

“He looks.. familiar..” Kio said tapping her pen on his lips.

“He does huh?” Yukio said leaning closer. “Whats his name hm?”

“..Kyo?” You were starting to get uncomfortable with all the questions.

“Oh!!!” Yuki yipped looking at Kio. “Kyotani! The Sendai Frogs!!!”

“..the Frogs? So hes..” Kio shot you a look. “He beat up Bokuto. For no goddamn reason.”

You shuffled around in your seat sneaking glances at the clock hoping it would somehow speed up so you could leave. It was not their business to know the reason behind it. Kyo was a very sweet guy , you had only known him a day but in those hours together you had never been happier; he opened up to you, cried even. Kyotani genuinely feels bad about that incident. He helped you through the tattoo instead of getting upset and brought you around his friend. The smirky smile he threw you always gave you butterflies in your stomach and sent your heart a flutter. He was just a misunderstood guy trying to start over with his friends.

You pulled the jacket off as soon as you heard the sweet sound of the bell and gathered up your bag standing up with the jacket over your arm close to your heart.

“Where do you think youre goin?” Kio got up following you out of the classroom along with Yukio. “Were not done y/n.”

Yukio grabbed your bag yanking it back and You spun around with a big smile and a sweet but slightly angry voice. “Kyo is a good guy and i really like him. I don't care if you two don't. You dont know the whole story either. And please stop following me, its not nice.” You waved at them so they could see your tattoo and you left in a quick pace down the hall . You pulled your phone from your bag texting with shaky hands.

**

Oikawa had dropped Kyo off at his store so he could drive home to shower and change and then go back to start his shift. He was tired and thankful no one could tell he had been crying the night before. Iwaizumi probably knew but he did not say anything, not with Oikawa around.

Kyo had on his shops uniform shirt which was a red dog house on a black shirt that said The Dog House on the back wrapped in chains. The summer line was selling smoothly and Mattsun had let him know that Yahaba agreed to come to the beach volleyball . He helped Iwaizumi unload a shipment while Oikawa was manning the front .

“So how'd it go last night?” He asked, passing Kyo a box.

“I told her .. everything.” The box was set down

“Oh ..? You? You did? What she say?” Iwa got another box groaning from its weight and giving it to Kyo

“Fucking hell.. would it kill them to pack the boots in all the boxes.. she said she was not scared of me. Dammit Iwaizumi she said she would fight with me.” He set the box down cursing .

“Fuck.. Kyotani.” Iwaizumi closed the truck up patting the back watching it drive off. “I know you've only just met her but she seems- Kyo?” He looked at his friend and he was staring at his phone , he looked like he was going to punch something .

Y/n: Kyo.. these girls in my class asked me about my jacket so i said it's my boyfriends and they asked your name cuz you look familiar and I told them and they .. brought up the Incident .

Y/N: i uhm, i did not say anything else but they were upset cuz they like Bokuto i guess but.. i left and they followed me and.. yanked me back. I .

Y/n: i was tough like you would be and asked them to leave me alone and i left. But.. uhm.. can.. can you call me when you can please..

“Iwaizumi...”

“You dont gotta say it. I can watch the front for a minute. “ he put his hand in Kyotanis arm watching his friend huff and puff . “Relax. Take a deep breath. “ Iwaizumi left his friend and Kyotani sat down on a box outside looking at the clouds in the sky with his phone to his ear.

“Kyo…” you sounded shaky and panicked

“Sweetie. Take a deep breath.” He was surprisingly calm sounding. He wanted to explode on the inside though, march right back to that school and take you into his arms and scare the hell out of those girls..He heard you breath in and out a few times till it evened out.

“Alright. Where are you right now Sweetie?”

“The.. outside.. courtyard..”

“Is it pretty there? Tell me what you see.” He leaned back on a box with his back to his shop. He brought one knee up tracing his index finger around in one of the holes in his jeans tugging at the strings making it bigger.

“Uhm… magnolias.. an oak tree.. some students are studying. It is pretty..”

“Sweetie..”

“Yes..?”

“Everything is okay now. Okay?”

“I.. yeah.. I tried to be tough but..i don't know. I said your a good guy cuz you are and I asked them to leave me alone.”

He ripped a few strings in the hole maging it even bigger over his knee. “Do you want me to pick you up after school?”

“Yeah.. i .. i just.”

“Ill be there sweetie.” He suddenly got an idea. “Promise. Now hows my happy girls day going now?”

He heard you giggle and the both of you relaxed slowly while you talked on the phone. You told him about your classes and the doodles you did too and Kyo asked you to send him them, he did not say why though.

“I gotta go sweetie. Ill be out front okay?”

“Kay.. have a good day Kyo.”

“You too Sweetie.” He hung up the phone and got up feeling the fire in him grow again.

After moving the boxes in he went to the front pulling Kawa and Iwa aside to the register explaining what happened. They were both upset over what they heard. Kyotani smirked texting Mattsun then looking at his friends.

“So after beach volleyball you know what we gotta do right?”

“Ou im excitedddd.” Kawa said with a big smile

“I gotta say im excited too.” Iwa said smirking and leaning on the register . “Im sure Mattsun is eager too.”

Kyo looked down reading the text with a side smirk. “Fuck with my girl and see what happens…”

**

@squeaky-ducky @zoppzoop

@haikyuu-but-low-iq @mochababes @kozushiki. @milkbreadcat @derpeedoo

*

[kisskissbanggang]

Hello Stranger

[14K Words/1Hr. Read - Teacher!Bang Chan x Admin!Female Reader - Fake Relationships, Guest Appearances, Fluff, Smut, Slow Burn, New Teachers, Vanilla, Office Sex, Allusions To Troubling Subjects]

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You should’ve expected a phone call when you read the email. At least then you would be somewhat prepared for the verbal lashing you were currently receiving from one of your greatest teachers. 

“I’m sorry, but — wait, you know what? No I’m not, I’m not sorry — but I am not staying here with this dumpster fire waiting to happen! He’s wrecking the department — Johnny, let me talk — and I didn’t even want him here to begin with. Congratulations, ma’am, you torpedoed my program I worked so hard to build.”

Doyoung paused, waiting for you to call his bluff, to appeal to his good side as usual. He was right. He’d done so much for his school — for the district, really, and this was getting out of hand. Johnny could be heard behind him, the poor principal having apparently had his desk phone wrestled away from him to begin with. 

“Mr. Kim,” you spoke into the phone, mustering all the confidence you had in you, “what do you want me to do? I mean it. Tell me what you want.”

“He goes or I go,” Doyoung dramatically laid out into your ear. Johnny could be heard trying to console the raving teacher before Doyoung apparently ducked him every few seconds. “I’m losing my mind. I have 150 students becoming fucking hypnotized and they’re influencing their peers like the plague.”

“Besides losing either of you,” you carefully negotiated, “what do you want me to do? I value your input; I always have. Dig into the meat with me here, please.”

“I will not teach beside some noble renegade who wears hoodies to class and asks his students to call him by his first name. I won’t teach in the same building, nor in the same school. This is dangerous, and you know it is. For all the money you’re throwing at PR this year you could be putting it in your students.”

You hated that Doyoung was right. This was not a great start to the year. A sigh escaped that you had not meant for, and Doyoung audibly steeled himself on the other end of the receiver. He was waiting now. 

“I’m coming down there,” you announced. Apparently Johnny heard you, a god fucking dammit being heard behind Doyoung’s shoulder. Doyoung, however, was sated. 

“Fine,” he replied, but he didn’t sound fine. He sounded like he was surprised he got anywhere. “I’m sorry I got so upset.”

And like that, Doyoung hung up. You slumped down in your chair, having been pacing your otherwise pristine office for the past 15 minutes which had felt more like 15 hours. You were fussily rearranging your desk, trying to calm yourself back down when your assistant finally felt it was safe enough to poke her head into your office. 

“Ma’am—” Yeji greeted before you held up a hand to stop her. You pinched the bridge of your nose in exasperation. 

“How many more calls this week?”

“Only four,” she replied. A relieved sigh softened your tense shoulders as she set the personnel file you requested on your desk. 

You felt so old now, run ragged by all the mayhem, but it wasn’t so long ago that you were young yourself. Even then, you still were according to most standards. You were the youngest assistant superintendent to ever serve the district, a set of magnet schools within the city comprised of one private Montessori primary school, one public STEM-focused junior high, and one private-public hybrid high school of the arts. You pined for the ultimate position, but that chair was long occupied by Mr. Simmons, a token favorite of the school board. He called you dear and was always acting like some big man pitying a little girl. However, this didn’t mean you hadn’t tried like hell to make an impression. 

Your first three years had been a terrific uphill trajectory. In year one, you brought on Doyoung to replace the retiring choir teacher and head of the music department at the high school. To date, he’d brought in more accolades than his predecessor did in twice the time. For your second year, you collaborated with your junior high on an agricultural enrichment program that offset food costs district wide to the point you could improve offerings in all three cafeterias. This year, you re-established the district PTA. Doyoung’s rabid Booster Club and the parents of the junior high’s robotics team made up the first meeting, and more and more parents had joined since. 

So it only seemed fair that this year was your first true hurdle. It had been such an innocent decision: you took a proposed program from the junior high and adapted it for your high school students. A music production and distribution program was a clean, sleek idea that was sure to impress the PTA and enrich the lives of your students in their already affluent music department and work as a dual credit with the business side of the class. What you hadn’t betted on, however, was what exactly a young teacher could get into in a high school setting. 

Chris Bang wasn’t naive — you were sure of it, looking at his portfolio. He’d cut his teeth independently producing from a young age and gathering a loyal following online. This was a concept you understood well enough, but had a time and a half explaining to anyone older than you, it seemed. Anyone older than you, but also especially Doyoung, who was very fiercely proud of his hard work to get his double Masters in Choral Conducting and Music Theory at 21 and didn’t have the patience for homegrown prodigies. You couldn’t blame Doyoung, really, even with his dramatics. His competition choir was a force to be reckoned with — surprisingly disciplined, endlessly talented, and ravenously competitive — and now two of his students were wrapped up in all this, too, and that was just the extent you were aware of. 

You tapped out an IM to Yeji from your desktop, asking her to come back into your office, and she dutifully popped in a few seconds later. She pulled up a chair in front of your desk as you rested your head in your hands for a moment. “Tell me, Yeji,” you sighed, “what’s your read on this?”

“Well, ma’am,” she mulled it over, “it’s not great. It’s awful, really. But it’s hard to tell by now what’s real, what’s a cry for attention, or what feels real but is actually just the zeitgeist. You know how this is, what it can turn into.”

You did. You’d remembered your own whirlwind feelings at a similar age, even just out of high school. Strangers and dissenters had a hard time believing it, but before you had assumed the role of meticulously poised and proper, you were frustratingly belligerent and stubborn like many of your peers when you were younger. It was easy to recall how real, how present every moment was at the time, but you didn’t even remember the whole story now. In fact, you hadn’t thought of that story in ages, but you were suddenly reminded of the smell of pine trees and sugar, the cool electricity of being out past midnight. It was quite possibly the most excited you’d ever felt, but now you couldn’t remember the fine details, the corners sanded down to curves over time. To your students, these letters were the most exciting and dramatic thing to ever happen to them, and if they would remember the details later on would depend on how you handled the situation. 

The first letter surfaced just a week before, and online of all places. A full declaration of this girl’s undying love for Chris and all of the very, very, very inappropriate things she wanted to do with him, found in an envelope on the keyboard outside his office and posted online before he could ever see it. The next letter was eventually found two days later, apparently picked up from where it had missed the trash can: a 17 year old boy, feeling emboldened enough to finally profess who he was — gay, madly in love with Chris, and willing to risk it all. A third was stolen from a girl’s backpack from some bullies and she had been a wreck, so sure that Chris had picked one of the other two and she’d missed her chance. That girl hadn’t returned to school yet. Who knew what else was going on in the hallways, in the cafeteria and bathrooms, in the parking lot after school? 

Four more parents contacted your office, according to Yeji. Four more letters. And now Doyoung was threatening to quit, for added reasons you hadn’t even been aware of. You flipped through Chris’ personnel file, hoping not to find any red flags, but hopefully find any reason this spiraled out of control, anything other than tumultuous teenage life wreaking havoc on your students. 

Your sigh renewed in spades as you glanced at your assistant again. “Who do you remember most from high school?”

Yeji’s eyes were cast downward as she thought about it. “Other than my friends? Probably the student teacher in my auto class,” she blissfully reminisced. “The teacher would sleep half the time and the student teacher would just teach us whatever we wanted to know and what we needed to know for tests. I remember I had the biggest crush because of that.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Yeji gave an apologetic smile. “What about you?”

Her question knocked you off your feet for a moment. For some reason, you hadn’t been expecting it, but you immediately had an answer. “Aside from friends? Weirdly enough,” you began, “someone I didn’t meet until graduation.”

As sickly sentimental as the thought of it was, it was true. You didn’t even remember that boy’s name anymore, but you’d met exactly three times before you left for college. He had been hanging out by the bonfire on the beach at a grad party no one had expected to get so crazy. You couldn’t remember your conversation, but you could remember his bleached hair tucked under a beanie catching your eye as he sat by himself, his friends apparently wreaking havoc on their own somewhere. His lip ring was crooked, and in a fit of beer-buzzed confidence you’d fixed it for him while you talked about the phony gravitas of graduation. You’d almost kissed him, too, connecting over things that seemed way more kismet than they probably were when your friends finally made you walk home with them. 

You gathered up the rest of your patience and courage as you bid Yeji goodbye until your return and headed out to your car in the lot, making the tedious journey to the high school. The handsomely vintage architecture was charmingly modern inside the gates and within its walls, but not overly so. However, this also meant the school was a hike and a maze to navigate through to find the music department. You were distracted, though, missing a turn here or there and having to turn back a couple times now that you were suddenly remembering your clandestine romance from years ago. What was his name? It wasn’t even that long ago. Had so much really happened since then? You wracked your brain. He had a reasonably fresh and nice scratcher tattoo on his bicep, you remembered, but you couldn’t remember what it was for some reason, just like his name. He had to have said it in one of these memory bites. 

The second time you’d met, he’d been handing out flyers on the boardwalk for his own show at a rave in a warehouse on the other side of town, out where the beach met the woods. He’d seen you before you’d seen him, and he had popped up with a greeting of Hello, stranger. He had made you promise to be there, which is where you met the third and final time later that night. He greeted you again the same way. Hello, stranger. You’d thought it was cute then, and still did, which must be why you still remembered that detail, at least. He liked your shoes, your worn work boots you’d picked up at a thrift store and refused to get rid of despite all the times your parents asked. 

Those warehouse shows were always nuts, all sorts of vendors arriving who were willing to shack up with any event that passed through. He had bought you cotton candy from one of these vendors when you met him after his set and you chatted as you walked along the tree line, talking about his dreams of becoming rich and famous on his own terms. He kissed you, once, and you tasted his lip ring and spun sugar for weeks. You found yourself wondering now if he ever did become rich and famous. 

Doyoung gave you a passing glance in the hall as you stalked towards Chris’s classroom: he looked impatient but thrilled and, sure enough, well dressed in his usual suit and tie. You wondered if this new staff member was exactly what Doyoung was fear mongering. Maybe it was simply a difference in values. This was Chris’ first year teaching professionally, you remembered, and now you felt miserably guilty. What a horrible way to start a career. You hadn’t even visited your new teacher since he began, but just the door outside his room was a mess. Doyoung’s fretting made more sense now. Even though you’d only gotten four phone calls, Chris’s classroom door was plastered in letters. 

The door creaked and fluttered as you opened it and peeked your head inside. The room was devoid of any human presence. For a space that needed to serve multiple purposes, it was sparsely filled except for classroom materials and equipment. Regular desks and chairs filled the floor as opposed to risers or music stands like in the other department classrooms, but there was still a soundproof practice room in the back of the room, and only the recording equipment stored around the room gave any hint to the classroom’s purpose. To deal with the mess after the third letter, a sub was leading Chris’s classes in the library, but you at least expected to find him here himself, or at least some posters or framed photos. You peeked inside the small office at the head of the classroom, finding it just as empty as well, but with some more personality. A few extra milk crates of visibly nicer vinyl records for sampling and listening were stacked beside the desk along with a nicer record player than what was by his desk out in the classroom. Some books sat on a shelf with a modest cactus in the corner, and finally some photos: Chris shaking hands and smiling with tons of industry players and friends, and occasionally appearing in one of those hoodies Doyoung had been warning of. He did own suits, apparently. Multiple. And he looked good in them. 

A polite cough surprised you at the door of the office. 

You whirled around, the sun outside silhouetting Chris as he stared at you in his dimly lit office. “My office hours are cancelled this week. May I help you?”

It was your turn to cough, clearing your throat. He was certainly young. He was certainly handsome, his grimace pronouncing the charming dimples in his cheeks. He certainly didn’t dress like a teacher. Chris stood in the doorway of his own office, looking at you curiously in his hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. He even had a backpack hung on his shoulder and a bag of greasy fast food in his hands. He suddenly looked down at it, embarrassed. 

“I, er, wore out my welcome in the teacher’s lounge, it seems,” he sighed out a sullen laugh. “And I needed some fresh air.”

“Mr. Bang, I—“

“Call me Chris,” he insisted with a tired grin. Your heart shamefully thumped at how friendly and cute he was. It was easier to pretend you didn’t hear him. He stepped around you and dropped down into his desk chair. He silently gestured at his food, appearing to ask if you were alright if he ate while you talked. You nodded. He dug into the bag and cheekily offered you a fry. You coolly shook your head. 

“I’m sorry we have to meet like this, but as assistant superintendent—“

Chris sputtered, standing up from his chair as he choked down the fry he’d just put in his mouth. “Ma’am,” he gasped finally, “I didn’t—“

“I know,” you nodded again. You waved up a hand in understanding. “Please, sit back down. I wanted to come by and see how you’re doing, considering the current state of affairs.”

Chris stayed standing, uneasy and fidgeting. “Alright, what do you want? Is this it? Please don’t suggest I need an attorney, I don’t think I can handle it.”

“What?” You asked, surprised. 

“I’m sorry for snapping,” Chris lamented, “but I’ve gotten dozens of emails and messages through the school portal from parents and students asking me if I did anything, and it’s doing my head in.”

“They’re what?!” You hadn’t even considered anyone actually thought the teacher was guilty of anything. He nodded gravely. 

“Read the letters outside!” His demand came out brokenly as he pointed behind you. “They’re begging me and taunting me to do all sorts of shit. Confess, quit, fuck them — all sorts of awful trash that I never even imagined. I just wanted to teach. I don’t know why the hell this is happening to me.”

You had no idea about any harassment. This looked bad. It looked bad to your students, their parents, the staff — everyone. You pulled out your phone from your purse and brought up the PR rep’s number, now on your speed dial. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Of course I didn’t—“ he sputtered before you cut him off. 

“I wasn’t asking, Mr. Bang. You didn’t do anything and I believe you. A good superintendent would support good staff. Your first few months brought nothing but praise past my office.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Chris quietly said. He finally sat down as you dialed the rep. She would be by shortly. You found another chair hiding under a pile of books and cds and moved them so you could sit. Chris was looking at you oddly now as you hung up, sitting closer than you’d normally like in the small office. You shifted uncomfortably. Chris offered you a fry again before you stiffly refused once more. He shrugged and began inhaling his food in earnest. 

“Hungry?” You asked sarcastically, instantly regretting it. There was no sense in kicking him while he was down. 

“Emotional eater,” he clarified around a mouthful, equally sarcastic in your resumed awkward silence. You considered the young teacher in front of you. If you recalled the personnel file, he wasn’t just a brand new teacher, he was new to the area as well. A rumor apparently spread among the students and even some of your staff that he had been running away from something, but you never paid that any attention until you were actually in the same room with him. He caught you zoning out in his direction, an eyebrow raised as he paused on his mouthful of food, and you sheepishly pulled out your phone and checked your agenda until your rep finally found you hiding out together in the tiny office. 

Ryujin had become your go-to girl since the school year started but even more so over the past week. Public relations for a school district should never have to become very high-maintenance work, but Ryujin was quickly proving herself over-qualified for the job. She stood in the doorway, tall and cool in her confidence despite her short stature as she looked over the situation. 

“Stand up,” she simply directed Chris. 

He gave you a quick glance, not moving until you nodded. Chris set his food down and stood, hands in his hoodie pockets as Ryujin circled him. He warily shied away from her prodding as she pinched and pulled at his clothes, looking at tags and labels. She fiddled with the cute studs in his ears, tugged on the strings of his hoodie to draw him more to her level, and ruffled his dark, fluffy hair to look for showing roots or product. Ryujin looked at you now. “This isn’t so bad,” she told you decidedly. 

Chris was confused, left about ten miles behind the conversation. “Why—“

“What do we do?” You asked. Chris looked wildly between both of you as you decided his fate without him. “We’re dealing with harassment now.”

“Of course we are,” Ryujin nodded thoughtfully, “I mean, look at him.”

“Hey!” Chris rightfully looked offended, even as you held up a calming hand to settle him down. Ryujin impatiently waited for you to let her continue. 

“He doesn’t look like a teacher, he doesn’t act like a teacher, he’s under 30, and— I’m sorry— he’s cute. He was bound to get eaten alive when his students are only a few years younger than him and he has no experience.”

“So,” you reiterated, “what do we do?”

“He can go back to teaching,” Ryujin ruled, “but he has to look and act the part. No more first-name basis, no more street clothes.”

“This is so ridiculous!” Chris laughed in disbelief. 

Both you and Ryujin glared at him now before she continued. “He’ll have to make a statement first. I’ll write it, of course. He can speak at the next PTA meeting. But —“ she turned to face him for once, “you shouldn’t be alone. Do you have a spouse? A partner? Some boyfriend or girlfriend?”

Now you shared Chris’ confused look. “Why does that matter?”

Ryujin folded her arms. “I don’t mince words. Sympathy, mostly. For anyone worrying, he’ll clearly appear to have support. For anyone who is doubting him, he clearly appears to have a loyal and loving presence in his life that can attest to Mr. Bang never having any nefarious predilection for his students and never intending to inspire any regrettable actions. It’s ultimately a similar reason to why I suggested you should wear a wedding ring.”

Your face heated up once again at being outed in front of your staff member. Ryujin had suggested a fake wedding ring ages ago when you first hired her. The moment you were appointed, parents instantly began doubting you. Even Superintendent Simmons, a parent himself, questioned you at your third interview. How could you — a young woman with no spouse and no children of your own — ever deign to understand what it’s like to raise and nurture one? The sheer stubbornness that you felt in response to that sentiment made you refuse such a placating notion as a fake wedding ring. Chris seemed to notice your embarrassment before he piped up himself, almost seeming to want to change the subject back for your sake. 

“No,” Chris said simply, “I’m single and fine with it.”

“Look,” Ryujin rolled her eyes, “that is fine. Find a fake, then. It just needs to look real. It’s not fair, but these parents will assume you’re a better person if you’re not single in this situation. They need to see that you’re a loving and committed professional who just wants to teach and nurture young minds. The next PTA meeting is this Thursday night. Today is Tuesday, so you have a little time, but not much. Consider it, and I’ll have an optional line in your statement for whatever you decide. Do you have a suit?”

“For funerals and weddings,” Chris grumbled. 

“A sweater is fine then,” Ryujin shrugged. She put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “This is going to be fine. Let me know if you need anything.”

“You’re leaving?” You realized with thorough embarrassment that you sounded distressed. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” she sighed, “the Superintendent wants a meeting about his son or something. You will be fine. Keep me updated.”

Ryujin ghosted out the door as fast as she’d come, and Chris reeled. “The nerve! I can’t believe her, can you?”

“Yes,” you nodded seriously, “I can. She’s right.”

“Oh, come on!” Chris blustered. You stood back up now, gathering your bag in the crook of your arm and straightening the carefully pressed collar of your suit jacket. 

“I don’t want to see you have to end your career so soon, Mr. Bang,” you sympathized as you pulled out a business card from your purse and handed it to him. “Again, I’ve only heard good things about you until all this. Call me if you need anything. You shouldn’t have to face this alone.”

Things settled for one day. And then Thursday morning happened. Yeji was pale as you entered the office in the morning. 

“John called from his cell.” 

You checked your watch. First period was just starting at the high school. 

God dammit. 

You jogged into your office, grabbed the phone, and dialed him back. Johnny was out of breath. “I have a situation,” he panted into the phone. You could hear shouting behind him. Specifically, you could hear Doyoung shouting behind him. God dammit. 

The tires on your car screeched as you peeled out of the parking lot of the admin building, tearing across town and barely breathing until you passed through Johnny’s office on your way into the building. He was icing his cheek with a cold pack from the nurse, his tie loose and slack around his neck and his suit jacket haphazardly slung over the back of his chair. Before you could say anything, he just shook his head with a disappointed laugh before returning to work at his computer. You walked quickly through the hallway, students watching you from their first period classrooms until you reached the music department. Taeil, the band teacher, closed Doyoung’s door behind him as he saw you in the hall. 

“Ma’am,” the teacher greeted, thoroughly exhausted, “I wouldn’t go in there. We already called a sub for the rest of the day and I took Doyoung’s kids to the library for independent study.”

“Thank you, Mr. Moon,” you thanked him graciously, “do you have any idea what happened?” Taeil shrugged helplessly. His tie was crooked as well, his rolled sleeves uneven. You looked over at Chris’ room, open to the hall. Letters had shuffled off the door and onto the hallway floor. “Take care of Doyoung,” you instructed Taeil, “make sure he’s okay and that he gets home alright.”

Taeil nodded and let himself back into Doyoung’s classroom as you carefully approached Chris’. The room was dark, books and papers strewn across the floor. You cautiously switched on the light, only to find the teacher slumped in his chair at the head of the room, icing his own face with a metal water bottle. He silently glanced at you and sighed as you rushed over to check on him. You set your purse on his desk and gingerly pulled the water bottle away, sharing Chris’ sigh as you saw the bruise on his cheek. It felt a bit gross to still find him so frustratingly handsome in this moment. 

“What happened?” You softly asked him. Chris sank into the chair and gave a dejected shrug, helpless to recollect. And he didn’t get much of a chance to even try, as a commotion erupted in the empty hallway. Doyoung stood fuming in the doorway with Taeil futilely attempting to pull him away. 

“So you are here,” Doyoung grimaced at you before he shot a glare at Taeil, “why are you lying for her? Everyone is treating me like I’m insane and I’ve had it.” He stormed over, only stopped as you turned to press a confrontational hand to his chest. Doyoung had quite the busted lip. 

“Mr. Kim, I know tensions are high—” you began staunchly before Doyoung steamrolled you. 

“Do you?! Do you even know what happened?” He leaned to the side, staring daggers into Chris. “Tell her, you sorry excuse of a—“

“I’m telling you, Kim, just like I have been telling you,” Chris glowered, “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about! You’re the one who came in here looking to start a fight.”

“You’re a goddamn liar!” Doyoung shouted. You put your hands on his shoulders, making him look at you. 

“Tell me, then, Mr. Kim.”

Doyoung shiftily looked back and forth between the two of you. “Tell you what, ma’am?” he grumbled. “Tell you that I had the joy of overhearing one of my brightest students talking with her friends during zero period, bragging about fucking in his practice room? Tell you that she’s just a freshman? Tell you that I caught her and her friends giggling as she wrote her own fucking letter?” 

Doyoung pulled a crumpled piece of notebook paper out of his suit jacket and shoved it into your hands. You looked back at Chris, his shaking eyes horrified as he was apparently hearing this all for the first time. 

“I admit, I took matters into my own hands. I flew off the handle. Why, though, would I come to you with all this first, ma’am?” Doyoung pleaded. You recognized the helpless heartache in his eyes, hating how much he was losing his students. “You wouldn’t come to me first if I asked for your help. You’d go straight to him.”

You glanced down at the notebook paper in your hands, catching glimpses of curly, naive confessions, and you looked back at Chris again. He didn’t look guilty. You didn’t want him to be. You wanted this all resolved, as cleanly as possible before you possibly wrecked the year before winter break. You thought fast. 

“I did go to him first, Mr. Kim,” you conceded, quiet yet confident, “and I apologize if my actions come across as selfish, but this ordeal has caused quite the strain on mine and Chris’ relationship, even more so since it’s still fairly new.”

Doyoung backed up, aghast as his eyes flicked between the two of you again. His normally soft gaze was pure hellfire. “You’re kidding me,” he shook his head in disbelief. He had no interest in waiting for a confirmation before he turned to storm off, herding Taeil along with him. 

Chris was staring at you when you turned back to face him, shocked as he was at your sudden plan. “Why the hell did you do that?” 

You pulled out your phone to dial Ryujin, but before you actually sent the call through, you bored your eyes into Chris, who was still wincing past the bruise on his face. “You still didn’t do anything?”

“Never,” he adamantly shook his head. 

“Good,” you nodded. “We will need to talk before the PTA meeting tonight. My assistant will call you with details.” You plucked your purse up from his desk and shouldered it. Chris watched, still stunned as you made for the door. His continued stare made you pause, a hand on the door frame as you turned back to face him. “You’re innocent,” you explained, “but if you quit you’ll be proving everyone who’s doubting you right. It seems like no one is on your side except me, so if no one will do anything then I will. You’ll be fine, Mr. Bang.” With that, you regained your confidence once more to walk down the hall. You caught your breath before you tapped out a message for Ryujin on your phone. Somehow, you didn’t expect her to call you right away. 

“I’m sorry, but you what?!” Ryujin exclaimed, stooping you in your tracks from wherever she was. 

“You said he needs to find someone and make it look real!” You hissed, trying to keep your composure the best you could in the quiet hallway. 

“I didn’t mean you!”

You grumbled out a curse under your breath. “Well, it’s a bit too late for that clarification,” you bit out, “so what do I do now?”

Ryujin could be heard tapping on her cell phone as she spoke to you. “I’m on it,” she assured you, “and I’m sure you already figured you need to talk before the PTA meeting tonight. We need to make sure you’re on the same page. I’m forwarding you the statement I wrote. Hang tight, I’m going to meet you at your place.”

Chris frowned at the suit laid out on top of your couch after you’d extracted it from its garment bag. Ryujin had brought it, on loan from some unnamed resource, complete with notecards of her prepared statement in the breast pocket. “Why does this also feel like proving everyone right for some reason,” he said uncomfortably. 

“What exactly is wrong?” You sighed. Chris fidgeted. He looked out of place in your apartment, his soft black hoodie and worn jeans contrasting starkly with your minimalist and meticulously organized sanctuary. His brows were furrowed with impending panic, but he looked determined. 

“I’m nervous,” he bemoaned, “tell it to me again.”

“We met over the summer at a cafe downtown,” you explained impatiently. 

“That’s so soon for someone like you to be backing up a pariah like me,” Chris laughed, almost on the verge of breakdown, apparently. He was choking down a milkshake. He’d brought you one too, of course, but when you politely refused he took it as a consolation prize. It was incredible to you that he seemed to be in such good shape for how much food he put down. Or, you realized, maybe a catastrophe of this caliber wasn’t very common for him. 

“Put on the suit, Mr. Bang,” you urged, “please?”

“Oh my god, you need to stop calling me that if we’re dating!” Chan nervously laughed again.

“Look, I’ll be just fine, I’ll be able to fix it when we’re in front of people,” you insisted, “but you need to calm down.”

“Calm down? I’m having an entire escape plan thrust upon me and I’m trying to adjust.”

“Well,” you huffed as you found yourself meeting his level, “maybe you wouldn’t need this escape plan if you didn’t take such a lax approach to teaching.”

“Excuse me?” Chris asked, blindsided by your outburst. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know what people are saying!” You doubled down in defense, squaring up against him as you impatiently folded your arms. 

“Why don’t you tell me, ma’am, what exactly people are saying about me?” Chris stood defiantly, toe to toe with you and daring you to follow through. You took the bait. 

“You know exactly what people are saying,” you challenged him, “that you refuse to take the role seriously because it’s easier that way. You give these students too much freedom, and you’re encouraging them to act out. Who needs homework? Who needs textbooks? Who needs seating charts? They call you by your first name and think you’re their best friend, that you’re one of them, only older, just like they wish they were! They live and die by your approval because you seem so cool and you don’t seem like a teacher.”

“Oh, so I don’t seem like a teacher now?” Chris scoffed. 

“They certainly don’t respect you like one,” you snapped. A deep pause coursed through you both like a cold breeze before he burst. 

“Well you sure as hell don’t respect me like one, so why the hell are you helping me?!” Chris shouted. 

“Well,” you mocked, quickly losing grip, “here I was thinking it was the right thing to do!” You heaved out a frustrated sigh, throwing your hands in the air and finally turning away as you couldn’t stand to look at him. 

However, you may have glossed over the in-progress milkshake that had been in his hands, now currently all over his hoodie and on the spotless hardwood floor of your apartment. 

“Oh, great!” Chris laughed incredulously. “I sure look like I could use the help now, Miss Assistant Superintendent. Guess I’ll put on the stupid suit so I don’t make a bigger fool out of myself at my public execution tonight.”

Your face regrettably heated up as Chris frustratedly tugged his hoodie off over his head, his shirt following right after as he fished the pressed white shirt out from within the suit jacket. He had an admittedly nice figure, his toned torso never being hinted at through his comfy wardrobe. A set of tattooed compass roses on his upper arm caught your attention, and you wished you didn’t find it attractively endearing. “I don’t know why I agreed to this,” he ranted, “no one would ever believe I’d date a stuck-up, uptight, tyrant like you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” you fumed as you turned away, not wanting to get distracted, “except no one would believe I’d ever date an arrogant ingrate like you.”

Chris could be heard pacing behind you as he buttoned the shirt, apparently pausing at your mantle over the fireplace. “I bet you were a nightmare as a student, a real grade-grubber and brown-noser,” he grumbled, now seeming to have found your framed photos of you and your friends at graduation, first from high school and then from undergrad. “I’m going to hang myself with this godawful tie— is this you?”

You rolled your eyes as you walked over and snatched his tie out of his fingers to do it yourself. He’d already deftly changed his pants while you weren’t watching. “Sure, that’s me,” you muttered, “and no, I wasn’t a nightmare, thank you very much.” You paused as you felt a shift in his silence and glanced up at him. For the first time you noticed a subtle cologne on him, a gentle musk that was miserably attractive on him and you just wanted to get this over with even faster. Chris was giving you that indecipherable look again as you fiddled with the stupid necktie. From this close, you could see a cute little dot just under his lip, a telltale spacer that more than likely usually held a lip ring and—

Oh. 

Hello, stranger. 

Chris was gravely silent as he parked in front of your apartment later that night. The PTA meeting had been a disaster, starting the moment you left to travel back to the high school, where the meetings were held in the main theater. A loaded silence had staked itself between you the whole drive, and neither of you had reviewed Ryujin’s statement whatsoever. Nonetheless, you sat and stood close enough to each other during the meeting to be clear but not obscene in what you both were implying with your proximity, and you were faithfully beside him as he approached the podium. It was difficult to ignore the hushed whispers resounding through the audience. Chris’ brazen confidence was all but gone by now, fully broken as multiple hands immediately shot up to get a word in. Chris had forged ahead, though, even as his hands tried not to tremble around his notes. Ryujin’s statement didn’t mince words, just like her. He read out how his inexperience wrongly led him to take a more casual approach to teaching, how he’d recklessly and misguidedly inspired his students to put too much trust in him. He read out what a struggle this presented for both of you, being faced with accusations of such severity, and wishing to regain the trust of the assembled teachers and parents. The hands stayed in the air, and Johnny moderated question after question and Chris adamantly confirmed again and again and again that he had done nothing except naively neglect to put a firmer stop to all this. He was the one, and not Ryujin, to say that he should have brought the letters to Johnny’s attention and not simply ignored them, hoping the situation would stop on its own. More hands kept raising. Seemingly every parent belonging to a letter on Chris’ door was here wanting personal reassurance and, subsequently, a reason from him that their children were acting out. It felt like a never ending ordeal, a constant string of hurt and confused parents needing comfort. Johnny had no words for Chris when he finally ended the meeting, putting him out of his misery. Nothing else got done on the agenda that night. He only clapped a sympathetic hand to his teacher’s shoulder. 

You tapped out what happened in a text message to Ryujin. Her diagnosis was optimistic but tough, and in your continued silence in the car, you suddenly realized you were stopped in front of your apartment. Chris was quiet, zoning out at the wheel until you nudged him.

“Ryujin says we can still do this,” you encouraged him. “Enough of the parents should believe you. We just need to make sure the students and staff do, too…. as well as the board.”

Chris leaned forward, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. “I wish they didn’t have to believe me. They’re probably stressed as hell over this. This whole thing is such shit,” he muttered. “We don’t even like each other.”

“We don’t?”

“What?” Chris sullenly chuckled. “Just because we did ages ago?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “I remembered that pretty fondly. I thought of that kiss all summer.”

“We kissed?”

Ouch. 

You sighed. “Fine then. You’re right. We don’t like each other. You’re cocky and naive and I’m…”

“Uptight?” Chris smirked, but he shut his mouth when you clearly didn’t appreciate the jab. “I’m sorry. I do appreciate everything you’re doing, you know. I just… I’m going through it.”

“I know,” you commiserated. 

“What do we do now?” 

“There’s a board meeting next Wednesday night,” you explained. “You can accompany me to that, and that’ll take care of them. Until then, we keep up appearances at school, now that we’re exposed.”

“How are we doing that?”

“I’ll figure something out,” you reassured him. “What’ll you do now?”

“Oh, you know,” Chris laughed tiredly, “probably go pick up a taco box and try not to ruin this suit.”

You nodded in understanding as you unbuckled your seatbelt and dug around in your bag for your keys. “No hoodies, okay?”

Chris nodded, watching as you stepped out of the car and fussily smoothed your skirt back down. “Do you need me to walk you up?”

“I can manage,” you grinned softly as you pulled something out of your bag. You handed him the offending note from that morning. “I didn’t do this just because I thought you didn’t do anything. This letter is addressed to a Chris but it appears to actually be a student named Christian S.”

“Oh,” Chris grimaced, “isn’t he Superintendent Simmons’ son? I have him in fourth period. He’s one of the first chairs in Taeil’s concert band. He’s sort of… gross, sometimes, about girls. I can’t say I’m surprised, but I’m still disappointed.”

“You alright?”

“I should’ve done something,” he muttered as he sank back into his seat, still staring at the letter. 

“Don’t start with that,” you lightly admonished, “it’s not always easy to know when to interfere.”

“Thank you,” Chris said quietly. 

“Of course,” you said with a small smile. “Goodnight.”

Johnny and Doyoung did a double-take as you walked into the music department the following day at lunchtime. It only made sense to you that if Chris was trying to dress up more, you’d match him by dressing down more. Your requisite suit and heels were switched out for a simple blouse with some tailored jeans and flats. That alone was a huge step for you, considering you even refused to dress down for the annual Welcome Back picnic for the district staff every year. You felt uncomfortable despite still looking clean and poised, but leagues more approachable apparently, proven as students’ passing glances lingered on their way to the cafeteria. Johnny’s look was simply one of surprise, but Doyoung’s was nothing but bitterness. Even Chris, as he happened to prop open his classroom door when you walked down the hall, was curious to see you looking so casual and chipper as you strutted up to him with a bundle in your arms. He was surprisingly handsome, wearing a blazer over a simple t-shirt with some slim jeans and sneakers — better, but not quite there. He couldn’t help a small smile as you theatrically revealed what you had brought: his cleaned hoodie and shirt folded and draped over a bag of takeout to split. 

“Hungry?” You asked sweetly, but hopefully not overdone. A couple of students walked past, their eyes boring into you. Chris looked unfazed, took the hoodie and shirt from your hands and, with a quick look down the hall at Doyoung and Johnny, beckoned you into the classroom with a nod.

“Starving,” he answered with a grin, and even gave Johnny a cheery wave as he promptly shut the door again behind you. “What are you doing here?” He quietly asked you, the dazzling facade of confidence instantly crumbling. His panicked surprise wasn’t lost on you. 

“We need to keep up appearances like I said. It’s Friday, you’re going through a hard time, and you’re eating like you grew another stomach. I brought us something to eat,” you explained, pushing the bag into his hands. 

“You—“ Chris looked dumbfounded, eyes darting between you and the food in his hands, “— brought me lunch?”

“Yes? What else was this supposed to be? I’m your girlfriend, for all intents and purposes.” You led Chris back into his own office and helped yourself to a seat. “We also need to brush up on our relationship in case anyone asks.”

“Fine,” Chris nodded as he dug into his food. “Let’s study, then. I’m guessing you went to college right after we met, and I’m sure you taught at least a little before this.”

“Grade schoolers,” you nodded, “it was good but not for me. I never asked about your accent.”

“You did, actually. That first time, so that’s probably why you don’t remember. I grew up in Sydney, moved here before junior year in high school. Do you live by yourself? I didn’t see a roommate or any cats.”

“I live by myself,” you confirmed, “I gave up on roommates around the time I took this job. No time for pets, either. I guess I’m too uptight.” Chris winced as you continued. “Yes, I’m aware of it; I guess I’m just sensitive. Did you find a good place in the area?”

“Yeah,” Chris said thoughtfully, “cute little house. You should probably see it sometime.”

“You bought a house?!”

Chris’ ears reddened. “Yes? Again, it’s little. A couple bedrooms, a couple bathrooms. Lots of work to be done on it, but it’s all mine. Here, look.” You watched, momentarily stunned as he fished his phone out of his pocket and clicked it open. He pulled up a surprisingly adorable photo of Chris in front of a humble little house, holding what you could only assume was his dog you didn’t know he had. “Cute, right? Her name is Berry. You should meet her.”

“I’m so sorry,” you shook your head in advance, “but you could afford a house? What brought you to teaching anyway?”

“Producing was good, but not for me,” Chris meekly bit at his lip, “I always wanted to try teaching what I know, and thankfully your team brought me on while I’m still earning my degree.”

“So one day you just decided to be an educator?” You asked dubiously. 

“Didn’t you?” Chris seemed more cagey now, more defensive. 

“Sure, but maybe this explains your approach to teaching.”

Chris sighed hard and set his food down. “You know what? I knew you were bringing it back to that. Here I was thinking we were on a little better footing after last night. My approach to teaching came from thinking of what I wanted when I was these kids’ age. I wanted someone to treat me with respect and value my opinion and talk to me like an adult.”

“Right,” you nodded, “but that acceptance clearly looks like an invitation to some students.”

“An invitation to what? The other staff are always saying how closed off their students are, but they’re not like that with me. They’re proactive, they’re independent, they’re thoughtful, they’re excited to be here.”

“What about students who aren’t yours?” You challenged him with your stare. It would’ve looked better in a suit. “Your students are in love with you — some of them literally — and it makes them act out with their other teachers, even students who aren’t yours are citing you as their inspiration. Terrific and capable teachers are being defied simply because they’re not you. Admit this is easier for you than establishing and upholding boundaries.”

Chris listened, but he scoffed nonetheless. “Fine. It’s easier. I’m terrified of these kids but I want them to like me and trust me. But even if I assign them homework and treat them like they’re children, that still won’t solve how the teachers don’t trust me.”

“They will,” you impatiently assured him. 

“Even Doyoung?”

“Why do you care?!” You gave a stunned chuckle. 

“I mean he punched me in the fucking face yesterday,” Chris shrugged. “Is it true you two dated?”

You gaped at him, stunned. “Why do you care?” You repeated. Chris nonchalantly shrugged. “Are you jealous?” You were provoking him on purpose, but there was no use in pretending you weren’t disgusted with this line of questioning. 

“No! We don’t even like each other.” Chris was floundering, now facing his desk more than you. “I’m a naive and arrogant asshole and you’re an uptight ballbuster who sold out, remember?”

“Sold out?” You guffawed, standing up now. “Who the hell do you think you are?! I grew up.”

“Right, well—“ Chris barked as he got up to square off against you. “Did you grow into a stuck-up busybody who is more worried about how she looks than how she’s doing?”

Chris’ ears were burning scarlet as you bristled at his words, but he still walked you to the door as you stormed away. “That was too much. I’m sorry,” he apologized sheepishly before he opened the classroom door into the hall. 

“Go fuck yourself, Mr. Bang,” you quietly gritted out, despite your saccharine smile in case anyone was watching. “I’m helping you and then I’m never speaking to you again.”

You were right back in your suit jacket and skirt on Monday, having stewed all weekend over how much more you hated doing this with Chris now. Worse, you hated feeling like he was right. He was shamefully attractive and smart and funny and charming and as much as you hated it — he was right. Somewhere between getting your teaching degree and getting offered your job, you’d become incredibly jaded by the people around you, but not without reason. Even now, the only people who went out of their way to make sure you didn’t feel like you were some child were Ryujin and Yeji… and Chris. Doyoung had, too, which was why you had dated briefly, but now he had joined everyone else in babying you like you were bound to fail. That wasn’t even mentioning the board, made up of all men from old money who mostly seemed to hire you for humor and bragging rights. Even still, this wasn’t even mentioning Superintendent Simmons, who talked to you like he was a lion with a mouse in its paws. 

So, sure, you had reasons to be aloof around the people surrounding you, but Chris’s nagging was starting to bother you. Yes, you were leagues more organized and fastidious than you had been growing up, and you even took some solace in sprucing up your space, but you also had to recognize you were quick to do that instead of facing problems at times. It was easy to organize the kitchen for the fourth time or clean out your closet, but it wasn’t always easy to deal with adult problems. You took great pride in your appearances, because looking capable helped you feel capable, but did that mean you were? It was difficult to say, almost as difficult as deciphering Yeji’s bemused look on your way into the office on Monday. 

A gorgeous bouquet of flowers was sitting on your desk. You curiously walked over, plucking the small envelope from within the buds and gently prying it open. 

Hello Stranger,

1. Are these still your favorite color? You mentioned it years ago so I could be wrong. 

2. I’m sorry about Friday again. I know I’m a hot-head and what I did was terrible. You’re not stuck-up, and you’re not a tyrant. When I think back to that summer, I thought we were on the same page, and now you make it look so easy while I feel like I’m completely lost and failing the whole time. I appreciate you helping me. Thank you. 

A stiff sigh fell from your lips as you looked at the note in your hands, with Chris’ dumb, nice handwriting giving you a feeling you couldn’t quite place. You quickly paged Ryujin and Yeji into your office. Once both girls were sat waiting for you, it was time for the dreaded question.

“What do people think of me?” 

Both girls looked like they’d seen their lives flash before their eyes as you sat at your desk and did some quick typing. When you showed them your screen, they both gasped. There was you, all acne and unfortunate appearance choices at your high school graduation. “It’s not a loaded question,” you promised, “think of it more as a confirmation. I think I’m trying too hard to hide this person.” You gave the girl in the photo a sympathetic look. She was bright, funny, and brimming with potential — even you could see that. 

Yeji surprisingly sighed out her answer first. “The other office staff were still whispering about you when you hired me. They said you just wanted to hire other young women to look progressive.”

All three of you rolled your eyes at the sentiment before Ryujin piped up. “The board does like you… because they think you’ll do their bidding. They think you’re ruthless. The teachers think you have an iron fist. The Superintendent? Well, you know how he feels.”

A sour grimace pulled at your lips. “Why don’t I like any of that?”

“Is it because it’s not what she would want?” Yeji thoughtfully asked you as she nodded in the direction of the photo on your computer screen. You thought back to what Chris had said, about wanting to be the person he wanted around at that age. It was such a trip, thinking of what that girl would do if she saw you now. She’d give you a belligerent sneer and close herself off from you because you were a cold witch and you knew it. The girls watched as your shoulders softened, sinking into your chair as you pulled out your phone and found Chris’ number that Yeji had fetched for you. 

>>Thanks for the flowers. I’ll be by tomorrow so we can try this all again before the board meeting dinner on Wednesday. 

There were decidedly less stares as you walked down the halls of the high school again the next day when the lunch period began. You saw Johnny try to catch your attention out of the corner of your eye, but you simply waved as you passed his office. You had a sneaking suspicion it was about your outfit. As opposed to Friday’s jeans, you felt much more comfortable being more comfortable as opposed to someone you thought you should be. The pencil skirt remained, only now in a cozier dark pallet and much comfier material. The biggest changes were pairing the skirt with a soft flannel shirt and a smart pair of suede oxfords. You felt exposed in how dressed down you were again, but Chris’ surprised smile as you stood in the doorway of his classroom reassured you. He looked good, his hair moderately styled back and wearing another smart blazer over another old band tee. You could see he was even wearing chinos today, still managing to coordinate them with some worn boots not unlike the pair you used to own all those years ago. It was a good look, one that made you a bit more bashful than you had been already. 

“Hello, stranger,” you cheekily greeted from the doorway. 

“Hey,” he smiled back, motioning for you to come in. 

“Hungry?” You asked, fishing a bag out of your purse and placing it in his hands. He peered inside as you set your purse on his desk. 

“Are these—?”

“I felt so awful this weekend,” you sighed as you leaned against his desk, still unable to keep from straightening stacks of his papers, “and especially after yesterday. I couldn’t think straight so I cleaned my apartment and made you some cookies.”

“You made me cookies?” He asked incredulously before taking a bite. You could’ve sworn his eyes actually sparkled for a moment. “Alright, these are so good there’s no way you still can’t think straight.”

“You’re right,” you nodded. “Just like you were already right, about almost everything. But you left one detail out.”

“What’s that?” Chris grinned around a mouthful of cookie.

“You make it look pretty easy yourself,” you smiled softly. Chris raised an eyebrow. 

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I know you do,” you laughed, “but it’s true! You’ve already done just fine in an industry of your choosing and impulsively decided to become an educator? And you just happen to be financially smart enough to have a house already? It’s reckless but it’s admirable.”

Chris choked on the last of his cookie, his dark hair falling out of place as he composed himself. “I, er, should be up front about that.”

“About what?”

“About deciding to change directions,” Chris sighed. “I had a giant proposal on my hands. I could have had my own company and my own team, but it was a huge investment entirely depending on me and my success. I froze up. I had enough. It felt way too big. I got rid of my fancy apartment, I got rid of my suits and watches, and I just moved.” A sigh fell from Chris’ lips as he folded his arms. He couldn’t meet your imploring stare. “I wish I could do what you do,” he continued. “I want to march headfirst into every single thing no matter what people think of me.”

A surprised laugh escaped you before you could stop it. You covered your mouth as your face heated up. “I’m terrified,” you explained. “Just like you were scared to take that chance, just like you and most of us are reasonably scared of these kids — I’m terrified. I’ve worn suits to attend sports events and picnics with the staff from how terrified I am of them.”

“Well, you look really good today,” Chris beamed at you, but the distracted nuance of his gaze didn’t let it last long. You playfully sat back on his desk, trying to keep his mood up. 

“I feel good today.”

“I lied, by the way,” Chris sheepishly blurted. “I know we kissed that night. I thought about it all the time. I didn’t go out with anyone for almost a whole year, I thought about it so much. If you knew I still remembered, I would be too tempted to get distracted. But I’m getting distracted anyway, so I thought you should know. You look really good today.”

A flattered smile pulled at your lips as you reached for Chris’ hand where it rested on the desk. His hand was warm and gentle in yours and he looked up at you, silently gauging your look to see if it was alright to lean up more into your space… when your phone buzzed with a message. It was Johnny. 

>I was trying to get your attention when you came in. Simmons is here TOURING THE MUSIC DEPARTMENT. Get that time bomb out of there NOW.

But it was far too late. Superintendent Simmons could be heard talking to Doyoung in the hallway. Chris watched curiously as you whirled around just in time to catch them appearing in the open doorway.

“Yes, Mr. Kim, I’d love to hear your plans for the year but— ah, hello, dear!”

You winced at the use of the word “dear” but fought it back. “Superintendent,” you nodded cordially, “what’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to take a stroll through the department,” the older man coolly insisted, his hands in the pockets of his suit. “I also thought I could finally meet young Christopher here since I wasn’t sure if he was accompanying you to the meeting tomorrow.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Your question was stated friendly enough, even as you subtly waved a calming hand back to Chris to keep him back. 

The Superintendent shrugged. “You know how it is, dear. My son takes his class but I haven’t even met the man before. We’re certainly not exempt from being aware of current goings-on and I wanted to see who all the fuss was about.”

“Do I live up to your expectation?” Chris suddenly asked, unmistakably indignant as he came forward. 

“Seeing as my expectations were of a naive, insubordinate, carpe-diem-prescribing kid,” Simmons smirked, “then yes.”

“Excuse me, Superintendent,” you huffed sharply, “but I do not appreciate you speaking to Mr. Bang that way, first as one of my staff members and second as my partner.”

“Oh-ho!” Mr. Simmons threw his head back with a laugh. “Your partner? How unbecoming of you, dear. Now, I would normally do the professional courtesy of discussing this in private, but as you always deem it appropriate to throw a fit, I’ll do it here— you know we need to terminate Mr. Bang. Too much liability.”

A wildfire ignited behind your eyes before you quickly jumped into action. If you had a moment to spare, you would’ve considered the possible consequences. “Mr. Simmons,” you spat, “you know for a fact there are liabilities just as big, if not bigger, right under your nose, just like I know for a fact Mr. Bang is in possession of a confiscated note containing quite the insinuation that your son Christian is having a very close and troubling relationship with one of Mr. Kim’s most promising freshmen.”

You hazarded a look behind you and Chris returned it, petrified. It was a low, risky blow, but an apparently fair one as Mr. Simmons’ eyes grew wide. He stubbornly shook his head. “Christian is a smart boy who is studying hard and has no time—“

“—Christian turned 18 over the summer and wants to have as much fun as he can in high school before he goes to college,” Chris finally spoke up. “He’s said as much in class, and if I recall correctly, that girl is 14. I can show you the letter. He met her at a party that she doesn’t remember but all she knows is she is woefully in love with him. As your son’s teacher I’m a mandated reporter if I think this is an unsafe situation for either of them.”

“You want to play executioner with a man you admitted you just met? Fine,” you warned. “But just like your gossip, you’re not exempt from this, either.”

At that moment, Doyoung sheepishly poked his head into the open doorway, politely coughing to get the attention of Mr. Simmons, who was now sputtering until his face had turned red. “Mr. Superintendent,” Doyoung timidly spoke up, “perhaps you would like to come discuss those plans—“

“Fine time for you to decide to act like a teacher,” Simmons growled towards Chris, before he thrust a fat finger into your chest. “This isn’t done, dear. He’s on thin ice, and now you are, too. Let’s see how long it can hold both of you.” Superintendent Simmons turned on his heel, marching out the door past Doyoung and towards his classroom. Doyoung leaned into the room, giving you both a look that remarkably appeared to be sympathetic support. “Are you alright?” He quietly asked. 

You nodded shallowly, still a bit stunned. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Kim.” Chris was seemingly dazed as you turned to face him. “Mr. Bang, can I see you in your office?” 

Chris barely nodded himself, having gone pale during your confrontation, and Doyoung silently wished you well before closing the door behind him and trotting down the hall after the older man. You clutched onto Chris’ sleeve and pulled him into his office, guiding him in before you quietly closed the door. 

You realized you were breathing heavily, chest rising and falling hard with adrenaline as you looked behind you to check on Chris. He was staring back at you, almost shocked, even as you gently took his hand again to make sure he was alright. His fingers had turned clammy where they squeezed yours, and you shared a brief silence, recovering and staring at each other until he finally spoke up. 

“You wanted to see me, ma’am?”

“Yes, Mr. Bang,” you nodded, leaning back against the door and pulling him a little closer. You felt a bit lightheaded. “I wanted you to finish your thought from before we were rudely interrupted.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded dutifully, now cutting right to it as he followed your hand in his to press against you where you leaned against the door. His lips hesitated a mere breath away before he finally kissed you, deep and seemingly driven by every kiss he’d wanted to give you since that night years ago. You could’ve sworn you tasted cotton candy and his lip ring again, maybe even smell evergreen trees if you weren’t mistaken by his cologne. It was electric, re-energizing enough that Chris seemed to finally realize what just happened outside in his classroom. 

“Holy shit,” Chris gasped like he just came up for air. “Did I just threaten the—“

Chris’ frantic recollection persisted even as you continued to kiss him. “Did you just warn the superintendent that he is better off tending to matters closer to home in more need of his attention? Yes.”

“Holy shit, I’m going to be fired,” Chris lamented, but even still he let his lips run over your jaw, falling into you and pressing you into the door. 

“No, you’re not,” you shook your head as you cupped his face in your hands to make him look at you for a moment. “He would’ve said so. He knows this is bad and it’s going to be a pain to deal with.”

“Wait, you don’t want me to—“

“Report? You just said you should. Honestly, Mr. Kim probably would’ve already if he read the letter more closely in the first place.” You held his gaze as you led his hands around your waist and he quickly got the hint, wrapping around you and diving back into you. “Am I still a ballbuster?” You breathlessly chuckled. 

He nodded heartily as he nibbled and kissed your neck. “I love it.” Chris hesitated as he pulled away from your throat, almost asking permission as he kissed you hard against the door, his tongue hot and needy against yours as he almost knocked the breath out of you. 

“Mr. Bang—“ you gasped, and you felt him shiver in the cutest way. He seemed emboldened to let his hands get a little braver, following your hint when you led them to the waistband of your skirt, and he fumbled with your shirt as he untucked it and began unbuttoning it. It was a bizarre sensation, feeling so vulnerable to someone you hadn’t known long but had been thinking of for years, and maybe you weren’t the only one. Chris’ breath seemed to catch in his throat as he leaned back enough to see, his hungry eyes falling on you as he pulled open your shirt and became impatient for more. You gasped again as he pushed you back against the door, his strong hands now tenderly roaming down your chest and groping your breasts as he kissed you before he came back to the waist of your skirt again. His confidence seemed to be returning in full now as his hands firmly ran down your thighs to the hem of your skirt, his lips trailing down your chest and nuzzling your cleavage as he gingerly lifted it. Another gasp caught in your lungs as his fingertips wandered up your legs and paused, his trepidation even spreading to the extent that he seemed hesitant to kiss you again. You reached up to gently cup his face, his cheek warm against your palm as you tried to see what could possibly be wrong in this moment. Out there, sure, that was all understandable, but in this tiny office there was no reason for anything to be wrong. 

“Mr.—“ you began softly, instantly cutting yourself off as you realized. Oh. “Chris,” you began, more confidently now, “are you alright?”

He sighed out a small laugh before he finally kissed you again. “I am. I just missed you, is all. I’ve been thinking about you. It’s still hard to believe any of this is happening, so Mr. Bang is going to be fine for my students but I’d much prefer it if you and I are more personal than that.”

“I can do that,” you grinned, that stunted gasp from earlier finally coming back and completing as Chris finally let himself caress you under your skirt, getting as personal as you both were yearning for. His fingertips were firm but slow, purposeful as they teased the hem of your panties but continued over them to feel you between your legs, making you so aware of your heat against his hand. He smirked as you shivered at his touch, and you felt your face heat up. “Sorry,” you laughed breathlessly, “it’s been a while.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Chris assured you, finally gasping himself as you regained your mental footing and let your hand drop, trailing down his chest to get an exploratory grip on his growing erection in his pants before you brought him back to kiss you again. His muffled sighs and moans grew feverish as you teased him through his clothes, up to the moment he pressed your hips back against the closed door. You watched curiously as Chris’ lips ghosted down your chest and stomach until he was on his knees for you, dangerously close to nuzzling your damp heat until you let yourself subtly roll your hips towards his mouth. He took the cue to instantly pull the thin fabric aside, just enough that he could dip his tongue into your folds. 

Chris couldn’t take his eyes off you as he lapped you up, one hand holding your panties aside and the other clutching onto your bared thigh as you squirmed and mewled for him. Your fingers stroked back through his hair as he held you tight and hungrily licked until he just happened to hit the perfect spot. That, of course, was when he stopped, leaning away and his shiny lips pulled into a mischievous smirk. “I need you so bad,” he drawled, “I’m getting impatient.”

“You?” You giggled sarcastically. “Impatient? Impossible.”

Nevertheless, Chris rocked back onto his feet and pulled you over to his desk before he sat you on top of it, gently pulling your knees apart to step between them. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely,” you nodded. “Do it.” 

Chris grinned shyly as he unbuckled his belt and brought his pants down enough to reveal his hard cock, groaning as you brazenly grabbed his length and pumped it a few times in your hand before guiding him into you. You both gasped in tandem now as you were stretched open, and your legs quickly found purchase around his hips as he kissed you again, the faintest taste and scent of your wetness still on his lips. He filled you out unexpectedly, prodding deep into you in this angle and his girth just wide enough at the base to make you whimper each time he bottomed out. 

“God, this is so good,” Chris groaned against your lips, “you’re so good. I’ve thought of this so many times.” His groans and whispered curses were hot in your ear as he fucked you on the desk, and you were both lost in this endless moment while you both sounded like you were steadily climbing your respective peaks until you noticed his prolonged smirk. 

“What’s so funny?” You jokingly accused. 

“Nothing,” Chris shook his head with a breathless smile, “I’m just surprised. I honestly expected you to be a little more in charge.”

“Oh, am I not as dominant as you thought?” You pouted for effect, seeming to only convince him for a second before you kicked him back into his chair anyhow and willingly taking his bait. He watched, his hands clutching the armrests with intrepid excitement as you dropped onto his lap. “Is this more what you had in mind?”

“Actually, yeah,” Chris nodded hungrily as you raised your hips, just enough to pull your panties to the side and grind your soaked pussy against the head of his cock. You both sighed in pleasure at the sensation as you took your sweet time dipping his length into you just the slightest bit, your lips parted to barely kiss him the whole time you teased yourself against him. He actually waited patiently as you barely rolled your hips lower into him, even as he began to get impatient again. “Heh, hey,” Chris laughed under his breath, “aren’t you gonna—“

“Whatever happened to your lip ring?” You asked him, teasingly oblivious to his question. 

“My wha— oh, that?” Chris was almost delirious trying to rock his hips up into you. “Don’t laugh, but I didn’t think it looked very professional when I first interviewed. I already wasn’t wearing it out to events and meetings, so not wearing it to school made sense.”

“I’m not going to laugh,” you smirked as you playfully pretended you were about to kiss him over and over, your lips ghosting over his own time and time again as his cock surreptitiously tried to work deeper into you, “but that’s ridiculously funny. You’re literally still wearing your earrings, and don’t try telling me that’s different. Weren’t you waiting for something, by the way?”

“Was I waiting—? Come on, aren’t you going to…?”

“Aren’t I going to what?” You asked innocently. Chris’ head lolled back against the head of his chair in exasperation. 

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” His question was quiet, almost as if he were shy to be saying it out loud, but he asked it nevertheless. 

“Sure,” you shrugged casually, “are you going to wear that lip ring for me sometime? I want to see if it has the same effect.”

“Anything, if you’re that easy,” Chris quipped, even as he was unable to hide the excited tremble in his voice. 

“I’m easy?” You asked, eyebrows raised as you finally sank deep onto Chris’ erection and kissed him again. His muffled groan was thick, laced with satisfaction as you began to ride him in earnest. The hot moans falling from his lips echoed your own impassioned whimpers, only growing more feverish as you angled your hips down, enabling yourself to grind your clit down against his lap. By now you were so lost in it that were thoroughly soaked through your panties you were still wearing.

“Are you sure you’re not easy?” Chris chuckled exhaustedly, even as he nuzzled against your heaving cleavage and gripped tight onto your hips. It was his turn to whimper as you desperately ran your fingers through his hair to clutch onto him as you felt your peak coming fast. Chris must’ve not been far behind, considering the way he sweetly groaned your name against your skin, as if to personally coax out your orgasm. 

The air between you was hot, static, and the way Chris held you was surprisingly affectionate. Despite how much ire and sarcasm had been slung between you previously, now you were both rendered speechless, your staccato breaths falling heavy in the spaces between your sighs and moans. Giving in to Chris didn’t feel like giving up like you had been afraid of for some reason. Reality seemed to be that he may even be quite fond of you, maybe even more than you’d previously imagined, despite how much you did or didn’t change. He obviously wanted to do more than kiss you, and now it seemed he wanted to do more than just fuck you. Chris’ fingertips dug into your hips as he thrust up against you, and you suddenly caught yourself meeting his gaze. The feeling was mutual, apparently, the blown out arousal in his eyes probably echoing your own impending orgasm slowly rising up your spine and making your head spin. He seemed to catch this as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and pressing his lips to your throat as he pistoned his hard length deep inside you, the head dragging along your sensitive walls and daring you to cum.

So you finally did. It hit you hard, giving you barely a moment’s notice for you to grab onto Chris, wrapping your arms around his neck as your core shuddered, radiating out to your quaking thighs and trembling fingers as your heightened moans hit a fever pitch. This, of course, was the final straw for Chris, his orgasm not far behind yours as he tensed up, palms pushing flat against the small of your back as he rutted into you with a broken groan. He uttered a sharp curse under his breath, eyes squeezed shut with the force of his own climax spilling into you as you finished riding out your own on his lap. 

It felt like an eternity, wrapped around each other, faces buried in each other’s shoulders as you both fought for breath and you finally realized how cramped it was straddling Chris in his desk chair, the armrests uncomfortably digging into your legs. As if to mitigate this silent complaint you had, Chris gently began to ease you off of him as he simultaneously pulled you to him for a tiredly satisfied kiss. The bright lights in your eyes finally dulled and the imaginary cotton in your ears finally fell out, letting the sound return to normal. You could hear the low drone of the air conditioner, the muted hum of the hard drive in Chris’ laptop, the clatter of the classroom doorknob outside turning open—

Chris heard it, too, with how he bolted upright with you in his lap. You both stared at the door of his office in terror; this was no way for the assistant superintendent to be found, in post-orgasmic bliss with her legs wrapped around a teacher who was still in a heap of trouble, and you had no chance of escape. Footsteps could be heard approaching before Chris quickly pushed at your retreating knees, apparently on the same page as you when he helped you slide off his lap and under his desk. You scrambled forward to grab at his chair and wheel him close as he desperately stuffed himself back in his pants and tried to make himself presentable. A knock came at the door and Chris quickly wiped the accumulated perspiration off his brow. 

“Come in—!“ he coughed, trying to sound chipper and casual, and as if he didn’t just orgasm with you barely two minutes prior. He gave you one crazed look to make sure you were alright shoved under the desk before the door to his office gingerly opened.

“Hey—“ 

Doyoung?

“Mr. Kim!” Chris sat up a little straighter, inadvertently kicking you in your shin in the process and nearly making you curse out loud. You reflexively punched him in the knee, making him jump as he tried to appear natural. “Is everything alright?”

“What, with me? I’m fine. It’s just...” Doyoung sighed, apparently not moving from where he awkwardly stood in the doorway of the tiny office. “Was it true, what you said about the superintendent’s son?”

“It was,” Chris said solemnly. “Would you like to see the letter again?” His question was genuine, any ill feelings towards the other teacher seeming to have dissipated by now. Your ears perked up as Chris leaned forward. You could hear papers shuffled overhead. He still had it? You could hear a piece of paper being handed to Doyoung, whose sigh only multiplied. 

“I can’t believe it,” he murmured, “that’s so…”

“I know,” Chris commiserated. “Will Samantha—“

“I’ll talk to Sam,” Doyoung resolved, “but first, about the other day, I’m sorry about—“

“Mr. Kim, you don’t have to apologize,” Chris insisted, “tensions were high, you were upset, and you were protecting your student. If you’d like to help me report this I’d appreciate that. You’re a good teacher.”

“So are you, Mr. Bang,” Doyoung conceded sheepishly. “Maybe you can join me in the teacher’s lounge for lunch tomorrow.”

“I’d like that.”

You could hear the smooth heel of Doyoung’s oxford turn to leave and Chris backed up from the desk. The sigh of relief you both let out revealed that you had apparently been holding your breath. He slumped back in the chair before leaning forward to offer you an assisting hand. 

“Oh, one more thing—“

Chris snapped upright in his chair, accidentally kicking you again before his knees knocked into the top of his desk. He grinned through it as he attempted to look nonchalant again. “Yeah?”

“So,” Doyoung began stiffly, “you and her are, like… a thing?”

“Er,” Chris floundered for a second. “Yes. Why?”

“Why? Oh, I mean, it’s nothing,” Doyoung fumbled, “I meant, I guess, is it serious?”

Chris’ Adam’s apple could barely be seen bobbing with his sudden gulp from your vantage point, and you didn’t blame him. Serious? It wasn’t a stretch to imagine his ears turning beet red again. Your thighs were beginning to get sore where you were folded under the desk. “No! I mean, not yet,” Chris said, his stammer matching Doyoung’s now. “I want it to be, though. I really like her. Why?”

Your heart thudded against your ribs. You felt like such a sucker, but why did you also feel so smitten? 

“No reason,” Doyoung laughed politely. “I’m happy for you. For both of you. She looks different with you, you know? You look good together. See you later.”

The door finally clicked closed and you both waited for the classroom door to do the same before it was Chris’ turn to let out the breath he’d been holding. He sighed heavily, melting into his chair before sliding back. His gentle hand reached down to help you out from under the desk. You held his hand, his fingers warm in yours as he met your gaze. “Hello, stranger,” he grinned, “did you have fun under the desk?” Chris fussed with your clothes, helping smooth your skirt back out and buttoning your blouse back up before he realized you were staring at him. He suddenly looked concerned, sitting up as he tried to make sense of your expression.  “What? Is everything alright?”

“You want this to be serious?”

Chris almost flinched as he defensively tried to figure out your tone. He settled for getting back up from his chair and squaring up against you once again, arms folded matter-of-factly like he anticipated a confrontation. “You know what? I do.”

“This isn’t even real, Chris,” you smirked, flattered by his sincerity. “We don’t even like each other, remember?”

He let out an exasperated laugh. “Holy shit, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Go ahead, then, tell me how we aren’t real.”

“Well,” you smiled, “you haven’t asked me out, for one thing.” 

It seemed Chris finally caught up to your game. “Fine,” he sarcastically scoffed. “Would you like to go out with me some time?” 

“Sure,” you playfully shrugged with a smile. “How about now? Are you hungry?”

Chris was amused as he pulled you close into his arms. “You know what? I’m actually not.”

[tomhardysteeth]

u wanna say anything for spn ending? Today's their last day of filming

Yeah sure! I love how you worded this ask, it makes me want to give a very serious answer. I’ve been rewatching random episodes the past few days and thinking about how much of my life was shaped by this random lil tv show, both positively and negatively, so here we go. 

I started watching Supernatural during my junior year of college, when I was grappling with being gay and religious, and had a pseudo-girlfriend who was emotionally abusive. I remember I started watching the show because I had been on tumblr for a while and thought, well this is a popular show on tumblr and looks like something I’d enjoy, so I might as well try it. I remember barely paying attention to the first season and thinking it was kind of silly, and I distinctly remember making fun of it right up until the season 1 finale when that truck slammed into the Impala and I said oh.

I remember sitting in the dining hall between classes, hiding in a corner with my pink headphones and my laptop, watching one episode after the other, completely consumed by it. My personal life was a mess at the time and I was angry and sad and frustrated, but I could forget about everything for a little while when I watched spn. I remember falling in love with Dean Winchester, season 3, when Sam gave him the amulet. 

Because I had already spent a lot of time on tumblr, I knew about Castiel. I couldn’t wait to get to season 4, the anticipation killed me. I didn’t really have a choice in shipping destiel, I literally shipped it before I even watched a single episode of the show lol. My first time watching seasons 4 and 5, I remember how mad I would feel every time the opening credits scrolled at the bottom of the screen and Misha Collins wasn’t listed. I cared about almost nothing but Dean and Cas interacting with each other. I was totally enamored by them, by their potential. At some point I got over that and watched the show because I liked the show, but boy did my heart and brain break for destiel. 

I broke up with my abusive girlfriend. I started coming out to more people, including people involved in the Christian campus ministry I was heavily involved in, and it was very very hard. It was 2013. The first episode of Supernatural I watched live was the episode where Dean turns into a fucking dog. 

I don’t remember when I started reading fanfic, and I had no idea how to read fanfic. A friend invited me to ao3, what is ao3? I didn’t know. I used my email address as my username. I read Twist and Shout and Pie Without Plot and other very popular fics that I knew about because everybody knew about them. I vividly remember the first fics I read because I was 21 years old and had never had an orgasm in my life and believed sex was sinful and so when the sex scenes in fics turned me on, I felt guilty about it. 

I quickly got over that and started writing explicit destiel fanfic. 

I still had no idea what I was doing. I know the very first fic I ever wrote was a mess, I’ve completely erased all traces of it, but other than that I began posting with abandon. Pretty much everything I’ve ever written for spn is still on tumblr and/or ao3. I was running a Hannibal blog at the time and started posting more Supernatural content than Hannibal content, so I created a sideblog, @deancasheadcanons​, and things very quickly got out of hand after that.

I was depressed, I was confused, I was spending my last couple years of college trying to figure out my sexuality, trying to hold onto a religion that was rejecting who I was becoming, trying to find my identity while picking a career path and being sad and being pulled in a hundred different directions. Sometimes I was working three jobs at once, on top of 17-credit-hour semesters. I was getting a degree in a field I did not care about, and I spent every class reading and writing fanfic, scrolling through tumblr, making internet friends, letting my life be consumed by Supernatural. I projected myself completely onto Dean Winchester and partially onto Castiel and did not even realize it. 

I started dressing like Dean, and my sister and brother-in-law noticed and assumed I was gay. They were extremely unsubtle in their attempts at getting me to come out by pointing out the flannel and army jackets, and I did not have it in me to admit to them that I was dressing like a fictional character, but I DID tell them I was bisexual. 

I went to therapy every week during my senior year of college, and I was embarrassed about how often I talked about my “internet life,” as I called it. I remember having the arbitrary goal of getting 1,000 kudos on a fanfic, and I remember the day it happened for the first time and I remember going to therapy that week and saying that I didn’t feel any different, that I thought getting attention for my writing would make me feel better, somehow, but I still felt the same, and my therapist asked me if I would still be writing if I was the only one who got anything out of it and I said yes. But I was still obsessed with writing things that were meaningful, and despite the fact that I would receive 10 negative/mean anons per day, I never turned anon off because I desperately wanted people to tell me that my writing meant something to them, that it mattered to them. I was fighting with myself every day over my sexuality and my identity and my purpose, and I put all of that on the shoulders of Dean and Cas. 

There was also chubby!dean. I had lived my entire life with this inexplicable thing, this shame that I knew I could not share, that I knew I would just have to suffer with for my whole life, and then I joined the spn fandom and found that there were others like me, others that had a fetish and had similar experiences as I did and were drawn to Dean Winchester because there’s no other character that could make eating and gaining weight be as enticing as he makes it (in fanfic). For the first time in my life I had a community of people that I could relate to about a thing that I never thought I would ever be able to talk about with anyone in my life. I don’t remember if I consciously chose to start posting publicly about it, but at some point I did, and I started writing kink fic, but I was still so uncomfortable with myself and so scared of the things I felt, and I tried so hard to temper myself and not offend anyone and not go “too far” and not be too weird and I was so sexually repressed and pent up and full of guilt and shame, and so now when I go back and reread some of the stuff I wrote it feels like reopening an old wound and letting myself bleed out. 

I was constantly comparing myself to others and wondering why I wasn’t getting as much attention as so-and-so, and I always made excuses about how maybe my writing was too weird and I was too much and maybe I just wasn’t good enough and I hated myself and wanted to delete everything I ever wrote, but also I’m awesome and receive a lot of attention and get a lot of good feedback but maybe that means I’m just a narcissist! I acted like an asshole online and justified it by saying it wasn’t really me, that I could be someone totally different on tumblr than the person I was in “real life,” but in hindsight, now when I think back on my early 20s, I cannot separate what I was doing in “real life” from what I was doing in the spn fandom. I shared so much of myself with the spn fandom without even recognizing that that’s what I was doing. 

And I made mistakes, god I made mistakes, and I tried to be so careful about everything I said but I was also presenting a certain version of myself to the spn fandom so that people would like me (for instance: running a destiel blog and trying my best to hide the fact that I also ship wincest) and still I got in trouble constantly, and I grew bitter and mean because you can only receive the “when are you posting the next chapter?” comment so many times before you want to bang your head into a wall. I became defensive and unkind, afraid to check my inbox because it was a nightmare, and yet unable to turn off anon because, like I said, I desperately needed that feedback, I needed people to tell me that they felt what I felt, that they understood what I was writing and why I was writing it.

I expected Supernatural to give me everything I needed. I fantasized about Dean Winchester being canonically bisexual because I thought it would confirm something in me, that it would somehow make my life a little bit easier. I didn’t want to watch other shows that could maybe help me, I wanted Supernatural to do things for me that it had never promised and would never deliver, and it’s because I was defined by it for so many years. Now that I’m back on tumblr, I’ve been going back through some of my old posts on deancasheadcanons and it’s like reading a stranger’s words. Even so, I find myself telling people “I was deancasheadcanons” instead of “I ran a sideblog called deancasheadcanons” because it really was such a huge part of my identity. What’s wild is that every time I’ve tried to explain it to someone in real life, they just look at me like I’m not making any sense. 

It was easy to stop watching Supernatural. I didn’t have cable, and I had been driving to my dad and stepmom’s house each week and watching it on their tv after they had gone to bed. I was in a new relationship with a woman I nearly married, I was back in school for a new career, I was working full time and absolutely did not have time to continue writing fanfic as prolifically as I had done for so many years. I finally reached a breaking point in 2017 and haven’t watched any new episodes since then (I don’t remember the last episode I saw). But now, as I rewatch some old episodes, it is easy to feel the way I felt the first time I watched the show. It’s easy to see why this campy little heartfelt show was a lifeline during my formative adult years.

So it turns out I have never reckoned with any of this, have never written it down, hence the 2k jumble of words you see here. And it’s like, I know that a lot of this may seem silly, trivial, especially for a show that in itself is not very serious, but as it comes to an end I have to reflect on it as a person who put so much of my heart, my creativity, my pain and my floundering identity into it. I am somewhat embarrassed and wish I could respond to this ask with a joke instead, but we’re in a pandemic and I live alone and have had way too much time to think and reflect and become a lot more self-aware, and part of that reflection has definitely been about my time in the spn fandom. I remember thinking the show was never going to end, yet here we are at the end and I felt compelled to type all this out with a desire to, I don’t know, get some closure? Convince myself that I was a whole person, that I wasn’t just a faceless URL posting destiel fics into the void, that my real life was not at all disparate from the time I spent online? In any case, I’ll always think fondly of the time I devoted to Supernatural, and I’ll take the good and the bad and everything in between. Thanks for the nice ask, anon, apparently I needed to get some things off my chest.  

[ghosttotheparty]

say my name and say it twice

32. also on AO3 chapter thirty-one

Lucas drifts off after Jens leaves, after hearing the front door shut behind him and Zoë. He’s anxious for him, knowing how nervous he must be. 

There’s a strange silence after the door shuts, an empty, lonely silence. As he buries his face into the pillow, pulling the blanket up over his face (it smells like Jens), he thinks maybe he’s somehow just never realised how quiet the flat really is. He usually isn’t up this early, and even when he stays up late, he tends to have his headphones on, or he’s on the phone with Jens, the two of them whispering and giggling to each other. But in the early morning, the air in his room chilly outside the thick blanket on top of him, it’s quiet. 

He can hear his own heart beating, can feel his pulse in his wrists on his neck, can hear his own breaths. It feels like something is missing. At first, he thinks it could be a noise, any noise, maybe rain or wind, or noise that he usually wakes up to, like Milan playing music from the kitchen or Senne walking past his room. (Though he’s fairly certain that Senne left early this morning for classes.) 

Lucas moves the blanket off of his face and lets the cold air wash over his face. He sighs, opening his eyes for a second before letting them fall closed again, rolling over and tucking the blanket under his chin, curling into himself, his knees drawing to his chin. The sweater he has on is light, and even under the blanket, he shivers.

He realises what he’s missing. 

After Jens came back to bed after talking to Zoë, Lucas had immediately drawn him in, pulling him close and feeling his arms wrap around him, his face press to Lucas’s chest, his legs entwine with Lucas’s. They spent the whole night like that, tangled together. It was warm. 

Eventually, Lucas drifts off. He doesn’t know when or how, especially with his shivering and restlessness, but he wakes up to Milan’s music quietly playing from the kitchen. Lucas opens his eyes, rolling onto his back and stretching, and sighs. 

Then he grins. 

He throws the blanket off of himself, getting up from the bed, stopping for a second after standing up too fast, and then grabs a pair of sweatpants from the floor, stumbling as he pulls them on while heading to the door. 

Milan is dancing by himself, swaying his hips as he flips a pancake at the stove, and Lucas pauses in the doorway, trying to push the smile off his face before going in. 

“Good morning,” he says, a little more brightly than he intended. 

“Morning, lovely,” Milan responds, turning slightly to shoot him a smile over his shoulder, reaching across the counter and turning down the music. “How are you doing today?” 

“Uhm, I’m good,” Lucas says, understating the condition of his heart at the moment. “And you?” he asks as he sits on the table, setting his feet on the chair in front of him. He pulls the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands, bunching them up in his fists. 

“I’m having a very good morning, very chill. Maybe it’s because Senne isn’t here,” Milan teases, and Lucas snorts. 

“I’m gonna tell him you said that.” 

“He wouldn’t be surprised.” 

Lucas chuckles lightly, watching as Milan flips a pancake before taking it off the pan and setting it on a plate, on top of a pile of pancakes Lucas hadn’t noticed. 

“That’s a lot of pancakes,” he says, trying not to laugh. 

“I’m making a lot so Zoë and Senne can have some when they get home,” Milan says, carefully ladling some batter onto the pan. 

“Kind of you.” 

“If they’re not grateful, I’m eating all of them.” 

“What about me?” 

“You can have some, I guess.” 

“Thanks.” 

Milan sets the ladle in the bowl and turns to look at Lucas, who has to push another smile off his face. Milan puts his hands on his back, resting it against the counter. 

“You’re shiny today,” he says matter-of-factly. 

Lucas raises an eyebrow and tilts his head, confused. 

“Your spirit,” Milan clarifies. “It’s shiny.”

The smile finally breaks through and Lucas has to look away, grinning as he shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. 

“What’s going on?” Milan asks suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. “You’re up to something.” 

“Uhm…” Lucas sighs, twisting his mouth to the side, trying to figure out to tell him. “There’s something I need to tell you.” 

“Okay…” His eyes narrow more and he turns his head. “Is it good or bad? I’m assuming good because you can’t stop smiling.” “Good. Definitely good.” 

“Okay, tell me.” He crosses his arms, an apprehensive smile forming on his face.

Lucas sighs again, grinning, and looks away, leaning back. 

“You’re gonna hate me and love me,” he says. 

“Oh my god, just tell me!” Milan says, laughing.

“Uhm…” “Lucas!”

“Jens and I are dating,” he bursts. 

“What—”

“And we’ve been together for a while, we met before the get together where I met all the guys, but he wasn’t out, and he wasn’t ready, so we just pretended—” 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Milan interrupts, waving his hands and closing his eyes like he’s clearing the air. “Start over.”

Lucas giggles, feeling his face heat up under Milan’s gaze. He adjusts his seat on the table, turning more in Milan’s direction. 

“So—” 

“Wait, you guys already knew each other?” 

“...Yeah.” 

“I don’t get credit for this?” 

“No, I’m sorry.”

Milan let out a disappointed “Ah,” and turns away, seemingly distraught, before grinning and running his hands through his hair. 

“Oh my god,” he says in a high-pitched voice, almost a squeal. “I’m so happy for you guys.” 

Lucas beams, his shoulders lifting into a bashful shrug, but they drop when he hears sizzling. 

“Milan, your pancake is burning.” 

“Oh, shit.” Milan turns around, quickly grabbing the spatula and flipping it over. “That’s fine, we can give that one to Senne.” Lucas rolls his eyes. “Okay anyway, tell me everything. I want details.”

“Uh…” Lucas sighs, wondering where to start. “You know I like wandering around the city and taking photos and stuff…”

“Mm-hmm.” 

“One day I just stopped outside, like, a convenience store, and a bunch of people came out of the building next to it, and there was this one boy…” Lucas is smiling wistfully at the ground, reminiscing, remembering how beautiful he was, standing there with his friends. “And we just kind of made eye contact…” He trails off, looking up to see that Milan has his back against the counter again, smiling at Lucas like he’s watching him take his first steps. Lucas lifts a hand, shrugging. 

“And that was it? That’s how you met?” He sets the pancake on the plate and turns back to look at Lucas. 

“Actually, he left and we didn’t say anything, so I kind of… went back there every day at the same time for a week, and—” 

“What?” Milan cackles. 

“And,” Lucas continues, “eventually he was there again and we hung out.” “You went on a date that soon?” 

“Well it wasn’t really a date, we were just hanging out, but eventually he asked if I wanted to get coffee with him, and we just…” Lucas sighs, leaning his head back and grinning, his legs swinging happily. “And obviously we exchanged numbers and we call, like, every night. Except for the ones we spend together,” he adds, quieter, but he catches Milan’s head turn to him sharply. 

“Together?” Milan asks, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms. “And when— when has this happened?” he asks like he’s interrogating Lucas, who laughs and scratches the back of his neck. 

“Last night…” 

“Wha— I did not approve of this!” 

“Milan, I’m seventeen. And he’s my boyfriend.” 

He doesn’t respond, crossing one arm over his waist and covering a growing smile with his other hand, setting his chin on his palm. 

“Your boyfriend,” he says fondly. 

“My boyfriend,” Lucas agrees, nodding. 

“Who made the first move?” Milan asks after they spend a second just smiling. 

“Me,” Lucas says, laughing. “I asked him to hang out, and I kissed him first. But then he kissed me.” He thinks for a second. “He said ‘I love you’ first.” 

“He said—” Milan squeaks, slapping a hand over his mouth and sighing. 

Lucas grins, kicking his feet in front of himself. 

“Can I have a pancake?” he asks after a second, and Milan drops his hand.

“Oh, sure,” he says, turning and grabbing one from the plate. He tosses it to Lucas and Lucas just barely catches it, the tips of his fingers snatching in the air before it can fall to the ground. He hears Milan chuckle to himself and he looks up, furrowing his brows and jutting out his chin. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” Milan says, still laughing to himself, and he turns back to the griddle, lifting the ladle from the bowl of batter. He carefully pours some in a circle, smiling at the sizzling. “You said you wanted one.” 

“On a plate, dumbass.” 

“Just be grateful.” 

Lucas makes a face at him even though he isn’t looking and takes a bite out of it. 

“Is it good?” Milan asks. 

“It’s definitely a pancake.”

--- 

Lucas doesn’t remember to tell Senne about everything until Jens is already knocking on the door. It’s been days since Lucas told Milan, who’s hassled him every chance since, “When is Jens coming over?” “Where’s your boyfriend?” “Do you spend any time with him at all?” Lucas has avoided telling him they haven’t seen each other much lately because Jens has been spending so much time practising and rehearsing for his recital. 

Lucas is excited about the recital. Since Jens asked him to go, every time he’s thought about it, his stomach has swooped like a roller coaster car. He’s even got his outfit out and ready for it, ready for when Lucas assumes he’ll wake up hours before he needs to, ready to meet with Robbe, Moyo, and Aaron tomorrow evening before the recital. 

“Who’s that?” Senne asks at the same time as Milan’s gasp, and Lucas pauses on his way to the door. 

“Uh… You’ll see.” 

Lucas catches Milan sending Senne a broad grin and shakes his head before leaving to the front door. 

“Hey, beautiful,” Jens says when Lucas swings the door open. 

“Hi,” Lucas says back, immediately stepping close and falling into him, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before letting his head fall to Jens’s neck. Jens wraps his arms around him, swaying slightly and sighing. 

“Okay?” Jens asks, and Lucas hums, kissing his neck briefly. 

“Uhm,” he says when he stands up straight, tugging at Jens’s jacket, pulling him inside and out of the brisk afternoon air. “Milan is very excited to see you.”

“God, I love Milan.” 

“I know. He loves you too.” 

“It’s a good thing he does,” Jens says, taking off his jacket and hanging it up next to the door. “I don’t know what I’d do if he didn’t.” 

“Come on,” Lucas says after laughing lightly, grabbing Jens’s hand and pulling him down the hall into the living room. Jens lifts their hands and twirls him, dropping his arm over Lucas’s shoulder and leaning close to kiss his temple. 

“Hi,” Jens says as they enter the living room, his face brightening ups seeing Milan lounged across the sofa, his legs across Senne’s lap. 

“Hey!” Senne exclaims, surprised. He drops his phone and lifts a hand, pointing at them, a silent question hanging in the air. Are you…?

“Yeah,” Jens says, pulling Lucas in closer and kissing his head. Lucas’s face flushes and he smiles, wrapping his arms around Jens’s waist. 

“You’re so cute,” Milan says, and he turns where he’s laying, twisting his back and lifting his phone to take a picture. Jens lifts a peace sign and Lucas hides his face in Jens’s chest. “What are you doing this fine evening?” Milan asks after lowering his phone. 

“Hanging out,” Jens says, looking down at Lucas. “Getting ready for tomorrow.” 

“What’s tomorrow?” Senne asks, still smiling. 

“I have a ballet recital,” Jens says simply. “Lucas is helping me prepare.” 

“Am I?”

“Yeah, so I don’t have, like, an anxiety attack because I’m… stressed.”

“Oh, okay.” Lucas drops his head against Jens’s chest. 

“A ballet recital?” Senne says, his expression identical to Milan’s, their brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Yeah, I got the solo this year.” (Lucas grins proudly.) “I’ve been practising every day for the past few weeks and now I just need to…” He sighs. “Chill.” 

Lucas lets go of his waist and grabs his hand again, walking backwards out of the room and pulling Jens with him. 

“Ohhh…” Senne says, watching them with a sly smile. He calls, “Be safe!” as they turn the corner, out of sight, and Lucas leans back in to make a face and lift his middle finger to him. He can still hear his and Milan’s giggling as Jens shuts his bedroom door behind them. 

“Hi,” he says again as Jens pulls him in, slipping his fingers into his hair as their mouths meet, their lips part, their tongues press together. Jens hums lowly, sliding his hands over Lucas’s waist, under his pale blue hoodie and pressing against his skin. His fingers are cold. 

“I have a question,” Jens says when they part, after a quiet gasp. 

“Mm-hmm?” 

There’s a beat of silence before he asks. 

“Will you paint my nails for tomorrow?”

Lucas pulls his face away, looking into Jens’s eyes in surprise. 

“You want me to paint your nails?”

“Yeah, I mean…” He trails off, looking away, his cheeks turning pink. “I always thought it would be nice for a recital. And most of the girls do, so I figured…” He looks back at him. “Why not?” 

“Do you know what colour you want?” Lucas asks, starting to smile. Jens shrugs, tilting his head at Lucas and letting his arms gently drape around his waist. 

“Something dark, if you have it. It’ll go with what I’m wearing.”  

“Yeah,” Lucas says, kissing him once more before letting his arms fall from his neck and stepping back. “You still haven’t told me what you’re wearing,” he says as he grabs the red box of nail polish by the handle, lifting it and setting it on his desk. He shoots Jens a look, one eyebrow raised, as he opens its and begins rummaging through, finding all the dark bottles. 

“It’s a surprise.” Lucas scoffs, letting a bottle of black fall into the box with a clatter, remembering it’s gone dry and clumpy. 

“Robbe says you’re going to love it, though,” Jens continues. He crosses the room from where he was standing and sits on Lucas’s bed, cross-legged and watching him fondly. 

“So you’ve shown Robbe but not me?” 

“Mhmm.” Lucas glances up and Jens is nodding, smiling. “He says you’re going to love it,” he repeats. 

“I mean, I believe him.” 

“Good. I think you’ll love it too.” 

“Oh?” Lucas tilts his head, raising his eyebrows and pressing his lips together. “I’m excited.” He smiles when he hears Jens giggling. Lucas rolls his eyes and shakes his head and he cracks the window open and turns on the small fan on his desk.

He makes his way to the bed with several bottles of polish in hand, sitting across from Jens, mirroring him, his legs crossed. 

“Okay, these are all the good ones.” 

“Why did you just bring the box over so you can put the ones we don’t use away?” 

Lucas stares at the bottles in his hand before looking up sharply. 

“Don’t question me.” 

“Okay,” Jens says, snickering as he takes the bottles from Lucas’s hand and analyzing them in the light coming from the window. Lucas rests an elbow on his knee, putting his chin in the palm of his hand and watching Jens fondly, how his brows draw in as he looks, how he lifts them closer to his face, how he turns them in his hands to see how the colours shift. 

“I think I like this one,” Jens says softly, disrupting Lucas’s thoughts. He holds up a cylindrical bottle, the polish dark purple with subtle blue sparkles. Lucas smiles and holds his hand out for it and when he has it, Jens turns, leaning backwards, and places the rest of the bottles on Lucas’s bedside table, carefully standing them all up. Lucas smiles, watching. 

“Okay,” Jens says, huffing slightly as he sits straight again. He holds his hands out, palms down, and looks up at Lucas hesitantly. 

“Ready?” Lucas asks, hitting the bottle against the palm of his left hand. Jens watches curiously and nods, looking up and smiling softly.

“They’re going to be wet for a while; anything you want to get out of the way first?” he asks, looking at Jens with a knowing shine in his eye, and Jens grins, leaning across their crossed legs and grabbing Lucas’s face, sliding his fingers over his cheeks and jaw and neck until they’re buried in his hair. His teeth capture Lucas’s lower lip and Lucas smiles, closing his eyes and dropping the bottle (still closed) into his lap as he holds Jens’s wrists, leaning closer when Jens starts to pull away.

 He reaches up and presses his palms to Jens’s cheeks, feeling the lingering twinge of cold on his cheekbones and moves closer, feelings Jens’s breath against his slicked lips when Jens pulls back to gasp before leaning in again. 

Lucas’s legs uncross and he moves closer, his legs moving to either side of Jens, moving closer, closer, closer, until their chests are nearly pressing together. Jens’s hands move from his hair to his shoulders, pulling him in before he wraps his arms around Lucas’s neck. Lucas gently tugs at his hair, revelling in the small sound that escapes from Jens’s throat. 

They pull away with gasps, and Lucas leans in and presses their foreheads together, smiling. 

“I love you,” Jens whispers breathlessly, and Lucas bites his lip, closing his eyes again as he smiles and runs his hands through his hair. 

Jens says it every chance he gets now, every time they hang up, say goodbye. Every time Lucas texts him I have to go, I’ll text you later, Jens responds with something like okay I love you <3. Every time there’s a pause between their kisses or a moment of silence as they hold each other, the words are there, whispered in the air. 

And Lucas always says it back. 

“I love you too,” he says, pulling away and pressing a kiss to Jens’s forehead. He lets go of his hair and picks up the bottle again as Jens’s arms pull away from his neck. The chilled air from outside hits Lucas’s neck and he shivers slightly,  trying to pull the hood of his hoodie over his head with one hand. Jens smiles, reaching up and doing it for him. 

“Thank you,” Lucas says bashfully, opening the bottle of polish, and Jens holds his hand out, tucking the other in his lap. After carefully placing the bottle in his lap, Lucas takes his hand, gently stabilizing his fingers. “This might need two or three coats… Yeah,” Lucas says, stroking the brush against his nail, leaving a pale, translucent shade of purple in its wake. Jens leans forward, tilting his head to see around Lucas’s (he doesn’t realise how close he leans to focus), and smiles. 

When the polish is on properly, after Lucas has expertly wiped it off of the skin around Jens’s nails, Jens leaves his hands on Lucas’s thighs, trying not to move them. They’re not quite dry, just slightly tacky, and Lucas pulls his lips away from Jens’s every time they shift.

[jjmaybanksblog]

Stress Release- John B

(Not my gif, credit for whoever created it!)

Summary: Friends with benefits; Two friends who trust each other enough to engage in sexual activity without fear of hurting the other's feelings.

Word count: 1,912

Warnings: Mentions fwb, sex, and underage drinking.

You rested on your stomach, textbook in front of you as John B joined your side. You two had been chosen to be partners for a Chemistry class project, but neither of you two had actually paid enough attention to figure out what you two we're doing.

You guys sat in silence for a minute before you exhaled loudly. "What's with the sigh?" You ground loudly, flipping yourself over and laying on your back.

"It's my senior year. I should be out in the world not giving a single fuck about anything, but I'm stressed out of my mind and I have no clue how to get rid of it." You ranted, grabbing the nearest pillow and screaming into it. John B looked at you with a confused look. "What? I'm a screamer. Not sexually, just at life in general." "I can make that sexually." He said, earning a smack from the pillow.

"Therapy?" "Tried." "Painting?" "Tried." "Going to the gym?" "Ha! You're fucking funny." John B remained quiet for a second before coming up with something. "Have you tried just hooking up with someone? You know, like a friends with benefits type thing." 

Your head snapped up from it's spot as you stared at the boy with a dumbfounded look. "I'm sorry?" "Well it's just, if you need to release tension, shit like that helps a lot." John B said as he suddenly felt idiotic for bringing the idea up. You sat there for a moment, trying to process his words. "Okay but even if I wanted to I don't know who would even want to." 

John B's index finger pointed to his face as you observed his gesture. "Really?and why would you want to be friends with benefits?" "I get stressed too, I help you out, you help me out." You considered his offer for a moment before agreeing on his idea.

"Okay. But we have to make a guideline." You negotiated, ripping out a piece of paper from the notebook. Now it was John B's turn to roll his eyes. 

"First rule, we do not tell a single soul about this." You said, grabbing your pen and scribbling the words down. "Okay, okay. Second rule, we call each other whenever we need a release. Whenever and wherever." "No hooking up with anyone else unless either of us get

a boyfriend/girlfriend." He thought aloud.

You nodded your head, writing his words down quickly. "And the last one," you two looked at each other as you spoke in unison, "no feelings." You held the pen out towards him, giving you a questioning look. "What? We gotta make this shit official." 

John B let out a chuckle as he took the pen from your hand and scribbled his name. Returning the pen to you, he adjusted himself so he was resting against the headboard. You quickly signed it, closing the notebook shut.

John B sighed softly before looking at youm "You stressed?" You quickly rose up from your spot, your legs resting on both sides of him as you straddled his lap. "You have no idea." His hands trailed up your back, one hand staying on your thigh and gently rubbing it. The other was wrapped tightly around your waist.

Your lips met halfway, he sighed in relief at the feeling of someone else's lips. The kiss was fierce and rushed, both of you wasting no time in getting your stress out.

_________________

You guys had this 'relationship' going for the last 5 months. Almost every other day you called each other. It was an odd thing for you to do. You had done it before in the past, but sex with John B was something else. There were nights where the type would change, he would take control for most of the time. Angry sex, sex in the living room, car sex, anything he wanted to do, you two did.

However, as time went on the feelings John B had began to change. He wanted to spend more time with you, and not just hook up. He wanted to find out more things about you, watch movies with you, be able to kiss you in public whenever he wanted. The at first sloppy sex slowly morphed into passionate sex. He noticed and it scared him shitless. He loved every moment he spent with you and he didn't want that to change.

He was mad at himself. That was the third rule and he broke it. He never expected it to happen, but when it did it slapped him right across the face.

You two were lying there naked, sheets covering your bare chests. You were fast asleep, your body facing him. He took in the tiny details about you, everything that he could. How sometimes your eyelashes flutter. How you'll snore sometimes. How he rests his hand on your cheek and you unknowingly lean into his touch. He buried this hole too deep and he can't get out.

You both were currently at your friend Angela's party, drunk teens were horribly dancing in the living room, couples were hooking up in the bedrooms and bathrooms. John B was drinking a shot of vodka as he saw you walk by, a red plastic solo cup in your hand. "Hey Routledge!" You winked at the boy who shyly drank from his cup.

A classmate of his walked up to John B, "Hey, what's with you and that Y/L/N chick?" The boy asked, nudging John B's shoulders. He smirked at his classmate leaning closer to him, "we're friends with benefits!" John B exclaimed, clearly tipsy and not knowing the words that are spilling out of his mouth. 

The classmate smirked at the intoxicated teen, giving JB a high five, congratulating him. You were out in the backyard enjoying the night sky with Sarah Cameron.you two were laughing after watching someone run and fall into the pool.

The fun was quickly ruined as the classmate stood in front of you guys. "So Y/N, I heard you help release stress from my good old friend John B. How about you help me out?" Your face dropped in shock, the cup falling from your hand. "I'm sorry?" You asked, pretending not to understand what he was talking about.

"Oh yeah. But real shit, whenever I need something I'll give you a call." The boy sent you a wink before licking his lower lip and walking away. You stared at the ground in shock. "Are you okay?" "I don't know how to answer that." You admitted.

You stomped out of the backyard and out of the house. Stares, comments and giggles were all you noticed as you made your way through the crowded rooms. Making way to your car, you opened the door and slammed it shut. Your fists pounded down onto the steering wheel, accidentally punching the horn. You crossed your arms and leaned against the wheel. Your head fell against your arms as tears stung your eyes. You were furious at John B, but you were also angry with yourself. 

During the time you had been sleeping with John B, you also began to realize how your heart would race a mile a minute with him, even before the physical contact. You had been trying to deny the feelings, 'it's just sex' you repeated to yourself over and over after every session. But to you it was something else, and that scared you.

You sped down down the road, the lights blurring from the tears, your cheeks and nose a shade of pink. Your breathing was uneven as you hicupped every now and then. Returning home, you quickly changed out of your clothes into pajamas and laid in bed. That night was the last time you and John B had an interaction for a whole month.

He would call you, but you'd let the answering machine pick up. You'd swerve him when you walked by him in the halls, catching his eye then turning around to walk the other way. 

You wanted to distance yourself as much as you could. John B tried his best to apologize after his classmate reminded him that he told your secret that night at the party. He felt absolutely destroyed hearing the rumors that were spreading about you, about you both, he hated it.

Your eyes were sealed shut as you attempted to let sleep overtake your body. It was finally Friday and you just wanted to sleep for 12 hours. The sound of rain hitting your window sounded like heaven to your ears, just pure silence except for that one noise. 

A soft tapping sound echoed off the  window. Knowing it wasn't rain, you hesitantly opened your eyes to see John Booker Routledge holding himself as he stood in your backyard, in the pouring rain. His hair was plastered down onto his face. His clothes clung to his body. His eyes were squinted shut in hopes to not get too much water in them.

You quickly got up and pulled him through the window harshly, making him fall to the ground. His skin made a loud slapping noise as he made contact with the hardwood floor. You sighed, rubbing your forehead with the palm of your hand. "Hold on." You quickly went out of the room and walked back in with a towel. You handed it to him as you sat on the bad, John B standing there as he attempted to dry off.

"Look this isn't a guilt-trip. I just genuinely want to know if you dislike me so I can stop bothering you." He started, the towel running through his hair, drops of water flying everywhere. You sighed loudly and pitched the bridge of your nose. "I don't hate or dislike you. I hate that you spilled what we were to what's his face at the party. Do you know how many phone calls I've gotten of guys asking me to hook up with them? 24." 

"What we were?" John B asked softly. "You broke your promise, you can't come back from that." You huffed, your eyes not leaving the floor. "It was just a fling." He lied, not only to you but to himself. "Not to me it wasn't." Your voice was just above a whisper.

"What?" 

"Throughout the last few months things felt different. It was really fucking weird to think about, but my heart would always just... race when we spent time together. I wanted things to just be more than a fling. But I figured you just wanted it to be just that thing since you came up with the idea." you admitted. He lightly chuckled as he bent down to be face to face with you.

"Princess. I walked here to you in the rain. This is how much I love you. This," he pointed his finger between you two, "I want more than a fling. I want to be able to just walk around with you on my arm and just give you all the fucking affection I can give. And I'm sorry about the calls. I'll make sure people get the notice to-" you cut him off by quickly pressing your lips against his.

He exhaled loudly, your skin suddenly felt as if it were burning. "God I missed you." He mumbled against your lips as his thumb stroked your cheek. "Show me how much you missed me." You whispered, pulling the boy onto the bed.