#and then I snapped back out of it bc it was so alarming apparently

[venacoeurva]

One time I depersonalized and was on autopilot more or less for like 2 years straight with very few breaks during college because I was so stressed out by it and I barely remember anything except summer breaks (got good grades though). Can I do that again. please

[headlinerkwan]

something new - j.ww

pairing: jeon wonwoo x gn!reader

genre: university!au, e2l, academic rivals to lovers, featuring svt as your friend group, angst, fluff, suggestive - MDNI!!

summary: you and wonwoo have been rivals since the first day you met, everything he did irritated you to no end, and yet, you couldn't escape him and, at a certain point, maybe you didn't want to.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, no one knows how to communicate lol, kissing, suggestive

wc: 5.7k

a/n: wonwoo academic rival bc i love him being all nerdy n shit. i really enjoyed writing this so let me know what you think + if you have any requests for some new fics!! ฅ ฅ

You stare down at your paper, illegible and scattered with doodles and a sharp exhale falls from your lips. Tapping your pen against the table, you wonder how the hell you’re going to pass this surprise exam - a surprise for you at least, apparently telling you must have slipped everyone else’s mind. Someone taps your shoulder lightly, bringing you out of your spiral. You turn to meet the eyes of the stranger sat beside you, his jet black hair is pushed roughly out of his face, allowing you to see his soft dark eyes peer down at you. 

You raise a questioning eyebrow at him, clueless as to why he would be trying to get your attention in the middle of an exam. He mouths the word ‘pen’ in response, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his eyes looking at you with pure desperation.  Looking at his desk, you notice the pen next to his hand is broken. You turn away briefly and watch as he lets out a breath of relief and adorns a grateful smile once you appear with a spare pen for him to use. 

It seems like the bell rings almost immediately once you return your focus to your exam paper - shit. Now you’re definitely not passing. The bell sounds vaguely familiar as it continues to ricochet through you, you rack your brain trying to remember where you’ve heard the sound before… oh, it’s your alarm clock. Oh! It’s your alarm clock! 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Your eyes snap open as you sit up in bed to turn off the irritating tune that your clock had been emitting for god knows how long. It was the first day of the semester, of course you had woken up twenty minutes behind schedule after a cliche ‘first-day-of-school’ dream, what else could you expect?

Arriving at your first class of the day, you find your friend Seungkwan sat strategically in the corner of the semester hall - just far away enough to avoid the risk of being called upon by the professor. You take a seat next to Seungkwan and listen as he begins to rant about his commute. You and Seungkwan have been friends since Freshman year after getting paired up for a group project. Originally, you were fearful that you wouldn’t get along, on the surface you were like chalk and cheese, but you find now that Seungkwan balances you out just right. His bold extrovertism has pushed you to be a little less timid, to actually live and, you like to think that you’ve mellowed him about a bit too.  You wouldn’t mind listening to Seungkwan talk and joke around all day, that’s when he’s happiest so, naturally, you are too. 

Your conversation with Seungkwan comes to stop as both of your attention gets drawn to a loud racket growing a few rows behind you. You follow the noise to find loveable class clowns Soonyoung, Mingyu, and Seokmin. 

“Ah, it's just Soonyoung, so anyways…” Seungkwan turns back to his laptop and continues expressing his somewhat irrational love of drive-thrus . You, however, are still watching your classmates, unable to tear your eyes away from one of them, his dark slightly nerdy features captivating you. 

“Kwan,” you murmur, “Who’s the guy next to Seokmin?”

Seungkwan hums, satisfied, “I was waiting for you to say something, always so nosy.”

You huff gently, knowing well enough that there’s no point in arguing with him, “So?””

“Jeon Wonwoo. Just transferred for his last year I guess.”

“Huh weird, I could've sworn I’ve seen him before.”

Your friend scoffs jokingly,  “In your dreams bro.” 

You sigh again, resting your head on the desk sulkily.  ‘In your dreams’, Seungkwan’s words echo. Wait… Is he… your head whips around to glance at the mysterious man again. No fucking way… Jeon Wonwoo is literally the guy from your dreams. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

If you had known back then how much you would grow to dislike Wonwoo, you never would have commented on his good looks that first day but, you guess you can’t really blame yourself for not knowing how much of a dick he was. Since you had met, you had tried, maybe too hard, to figure out what you had done to make him treat you the way that he did. Over the weeks you have watched him form bonds with everyone in your class - especially your friends, and you saw how his smile fell and laughter stopped as soon as you made your presence known. It was if you had physically attacked him, the way that his eyes immediately dropped to the floor once you came into view. The thing that annoyed you the most about Jeon Wonwoo though, more than the unexplained icing out, was his brain. 

You don’t like to brag but you pride yourself on your intelligence, especially in academia. You had worked hard to reach the place you were in now, throwing away your teenage years in favor of ensuring a happy and successful future for yourself. Because of this, you work hard to make sure you’re at the top of the list whenever your exam results are released - improving upon yourself and being the best of the best,  that’s what you strive for. So of course, it came as an infuriating shock when Wonwoo knocked you out of the top spot, that smug look on his face and the glimmer in his eyes as he walked past  you that day was something you couldn’t get out of your head. No matter how hard you tried, day and night, the only thing on your mind was Wonwoo and how to beat him.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

“Ok, what can you tell me about Wonwoo?” you are sitting in your campus cafe, your best friend Seungkwan sits across from you as you mindlessly stir your coffee. 

“Why do you always assume I have information on everyone?”

“Because you always do, my favorite gossip.” you reply, buttering him up in hope he’ll give you something, anything. 

“What’s your business with him anyways? Oh…” he gasps “you have a little campus crush don’t you?  That’s why you’re so off around him.” 

“Don’t go spreading false information, Boo Seungkwan, he’s the one who gets cold and quiet when I’m around. Besides, no sleeping with the enemy.”

“He’s the enemy now? Hot.” 

You scoff gently at his comment, rolling your eyes “Just tell me what you know”,  you say laughing. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

As time goes on, nothing much changes between you and Wonwoo. He becomes a fixture within your friendship group with the boys taking him under their wing and as he begins to pop up in more areas of your life, you learn more about him. You learn about his love for video games and cats, you learn he’s a great listener but can speak for the country when he’s passionate about something. You learn he’s funny and even smarter than you thought. It’s annoying that you could imagine actually being friends with him if he was just nice, you admit you might be able to understand the crowd of girls that follow him around aimlessly if he wasn’t such an asshole. Because, despite him joining your friendship group and you - unwillingly - spending more time around him, he still acted so coldly towards you, no matter how nice you were to him, he never faltered. 

“Split into groups of six, no more, no less and create a presentation applying your chosen theorem to the 21st century.” your professor orders. Immediately the students around you begin to migrate around the room, collecting friends for the group project. You turn to your left to find that Seungkwan is already clambering over the seats behind you to reach Seokmin, Mingyu, Soonyoung and Wonwoo - all four of them cheering on his show of athleticism. 

“Quickly guys! Come on!” the professor calls out from the front of the class. You look around to realise that you’ve waited a bit too long to choose a group for yourself. That’s when you hear your name being called and turn to find Mingyu reaching his hand out to you with that cheesy grin you just couldn’t say no to. 

“We need the class nerd on our team, c’mon!” Soonyoung calls out to you from above.

“We already have Wonwoo though?” Seungkwan remarks with a mischievous smirk. You quickly shoot him a stern, irritated look as his smile is broken by Seokmin elbowing him in the ribs for a reason you can’t quite figure out. 

A few days later, you and your friends (and Wonwoo) decide to meet at the library to brainstorm for your project. You arrive first with Seokmin and Mingyu and find a table just big enough for the six of you. Soonyoung trails along not long after and the four of you play some quiet games whilst waiting for Seungkwan and Wonwoo to arrive. You note that one of the two empty seats is positioned directly across for you whilst the other is out of view. The solution is clear, Seungkwan will sit across from you, at least then you’ll be able to focus on the assignment. 

Once the pair arrive, you attempt to signal to Kwan, strong eye contact asking him to take the chair opposite you. 

“Won, which seat do you want?” He asks the other boy, and you can’t hold back the sigh that escapes as your plan crumbles before you

“I’ll take this one, the lighting’s better.” Wonwoo replies, making brief eye contact with you before pulling out the chair with a shy smirk on his face. 

…what was that about? And when did he get so cocky? 

Soonyoung clears his throat, breaking the awkward silence that suddenly fell over the group and you thank God that he’s here to take the attention off of your exchange with Wonwoo and prompt you to actually start working on the project. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Soon enough, you find yourself in a quiet bar across town on a Thursday night. Following your friends’ advice you decide to accept your coworker’s invitation to grab drinks. You tell yourself why not? He’s nice enough, attractive and funny, sometimes anyways. Plus you haven’t got much else going on in the love department - no harm, no foul. 

After half an hour or so of pleasant small talk, you leave the booth and head towards the bar to order another drink. As you trudge across the sticky floor you are stopped in your tracks as a man steps in front of you, blocking you from reaching your destination. 

“Excuse me,” you begin, attempting to manoeuvre around him.

“You shouldn’t be with him.” the man says. 

“Excuse me?” you repeat, this time in disbelief. 

“You heard me.” he says, quieter this time. You lift your head to get a proper look at the stranger’s face.

“Of course you’re here.” you scoff. You push past him, shaking your head as you reach the bar. He follows, not giving up. 

“You don’t suit each other.” 

You laugh, God, he’s so infuriating, who does he think he is?

“Oh please, Wonwoo, like you know the slightest thing about me.”

“Actually I-”

Just then your ‘date’ appears, “Is everything ok?” He asks with a slightly concerned look. 

“Yeah! Just a… classmate.” A false happiness lines your voice.

 “Come on, let's head back to the table.” you say, turning your back on Wonwoo who watches on with a solemn expression.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Not long after that, you find yourself at the library with your friends almost every day, grinding to get your project completed. You and Wonwoo haven’t spoken about the night at the bar, not that he speaks to you usually anyways. Instead though, you begin to catch him looking at you more and more often, his gaze burning into you, making you heat up and, most importantly distracting you from your work. 

“What’s going on with you and Wonwoo then?” Seungkwan asks one day whilst you do a snack run for the rest of the group.

“What?” you reply, stopping where you are, astonished. 

“Just saying, he can’t keep his eyes off of you.” 

“He’s trying to sabotage me or something.” 

“...Why would he do that? Y’know we’re graded as a group right?” He says, baffled. 

“Whatever.” you reply, turning into the next aisle, fed up of even thinking about Wonwoo, never mind talking about the man. 

Returning to your friends, they circle you like vultures, picking out they’re snacks. It’s a chaotic free for all and you’re left with a candy bar and some chips. Wonwoo stands patiently whilst the others rob you blind so, once the others return to their seats you approach him quietly, avoiding eye contact and place the chips in front of him. He mutters a small “thank you” and smiles gratefully, watching again as you return to your work. Now he’s just being weird, you think to yourself. You can’t help but be curious about what he’s plotting. 

At the end of the study session, the boys decide to head to the bar to reward themselves. 

“Y/N, you coming?” Mingyu asks.

“I’m good, thanks though!” you reply with a soft smile, finding a quiet night watching Netflix to be a bit more appealing today. 

Your friends leave before you, saying goodbye whilst you pack up your stuff. As you shove your laptop into your bag, you can feel someone’s eyes on you and your face begins to heat up at your suspicion. 

“Wonwoo! Hurry up!” you hear Soonyoung whine. 

“Right, sorry.” 

You look up just quick enough to catch him turning away from you and running to meet with the rest of the group. 

Huh, weird. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

That weekend, your phone buzzes with a string of texts from Mingyu.

Mingyu: Wanna come over and play video games?

Mingyu: (Say yes)

Mingyu: Pleaseee, I’m so bored :) 

You’ve worked fucking hard recently and couldn’t think of a better way to end the week than by playing nostalgic video games with one of your closest friends

Y/N: Don't even WORRY, I’m omw

You respond quickly, pulling a bleach-stained hoodie on and heading for the door. 

You’re sat on the floor next to Mingyu in front of his TV. The room is dead silent, spare some trash talk from the both of you as you channel all of your focus on Mario Kart. As a result, neither of you notice Wonwoo coming in to watch your fierce competition. 

You swear you see your life flash before your eyes when he, watching the screen intently, mumbles “Be careful. Blue shell coming your way.”

His sudden words do nothing but scare the living shit out of you and make you crash into a wall. 

“Oh my god,” you exclaim, heart beating rapidly after his jumpscare, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He looks at you blankly, taken aback by your overreaction, “Oh…uh… I live here.” 

You turn to Mingyu who confirms with his lips pressed together in an awkward smile. 

“Oh. Sorry. You just scared me a bit, my bad.” 

He chuckles quietly in response before walking over to the kitchen and leaving the two of you to finish your race (which you still win, despite Wonwoo’s meddling.) A handful of races later, Mingyu’s phone buzzes, ushering him to go and collect the takeout you had ordered. Standing up, he grabs his jacket and keys but doesn’t dare leave before messing with you more than he already has. 

“Wonwoo?” He calls with a mischievous grin, “Come play instead of me whilst I go get the food!” 

Wonwoo hums a response as he moves to sit down next to you whilst you shoot death glares at your friend, who simply mouths ‘be nice’ before slamming the door behind him. 

He picks up Mingyu’s controller and hovers over ‘Wario’s Gold Mine’. 

“What are you doing?”

He looks at you, confused “Uh… choosing the best map?”

You laugh, “No no, my poor Wonwoo. This is the best map.” You take the remote from him and select ‘Koopa Cape’. 

“Ooh, you’re so wrong.” he replies playfully.

“I’m never wrong.”

“That’s true.” 

You catch yourself smiling as the race starts. Maybe you are wrong, maybe he’s not so bad. 

“Oh my god, hit me with a shell again, I swear to god Jeon Wonwoo.” you exclaim as he surpasses you for the fourth time. He laughs, nudging you gently.

“I didn’t know you were such a sore loser.” 

You look at him, forgetting about the game, “You don't know anything about me.” you say, under your breath. He turns to you, concerned.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” 

Turning back to the screen, you find that Wonwoo has stolen first place from you - again. 

“Fuck.” you mutter, refocusing on the race, watching as a proud smile creeps onto Wonwoo’s face. 

“Wow, Y/N actually lost for once!” Mingyu declares as he returns with the food, “I guess we finally found your match.” 

“Shut up.” you bark back, rolling your eyes and leaning back against the couch. Wonwoo mutters a ‘good game’ before standing up with a smirk and leaving the room. You scoff at his slight obnoxiousness whilst Mingyu sits down beside you and begins unpacking the food. 

“Are you gonna stop sulking and go get some plates?”

“Ugh fineee” you reply jokingly before getting up. 

You’re completely lost in the kitchen, opening every cupboard in sight hoping to find some plates and cutlery.

“You good?” a voice calls from behind you. You look up to find Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe, slightly baffled by your snooping. 

“Uh…plates?”

“Ah,” he says walking towards you, you step back until you’re caught by the kitchen counter. “Just up here.” he continues, reaching behind you to grab the plates. 

He’s so close that, for the first time, you can smell his woody cologne strongly. Your heart speeds up as he places the plates down on the counter behind you, his hands resting on either side, trapping you. 

You look up at him, breathless, as he scans your face. You’re silent, drinking him in, your hands fiddling with the hem of your hoodie. He lifts his hand, brushing your hair behind your ear. 

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers against your lips. 

You can only bring yourself to nod in complete disbelief at the sudden shift between the two of you, the magnetism drawing you together. He moves in closer to you, so close you can feel his eyelashes as they flutter against your skin and his breathing grows slightly heavier. 

“Y/N, did you find them?” Mingyu calls from the other room. You’ve never moved away from a person so fast, separating yourself from Wonwoo immediately. You clear your throat, maintaining eye contact with Wonwoo, still flustered. 

“Yep sorry! Just grabbing a drink.” Thinking fast, Wonwoo hands you a can of coke.

“Can you grab me one too?” Mingyu shouts. 

You both laugh quietly as he hands you another. You nod and smile, leaving him in the kitchen and heading back to your food.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

It’s a week before you see him again, your group's last meeting before the final presentation, a chance for you to go over the final details. The meeting is generally uneventful, everyone finally focused on the task at hand. 

“I think if we switch the parts about culture and equity then it would flow better.” Wonwoo suggests.

“Hmm, I agree” you reply nonchalantly because, on this rare occasion, you actually do. 

“What the fuck was that?” Seungkwan whispers to you.

“What?”

“You never agree with him.”

“He made a good point.” you shrug, brushing off your friend’s interrogation. Looking up you catch Wonwoo smiling at you, giggling under his breath like a teenager. You have to stifle the smile that begins creeping onto your face as you watch him. 

“And that is why we believe that absurdism is an essential mindset to have in order to thrive in the modern day.” Seokmin argues, concluding your group project, finally. The six of you share reassuring nods and smiles, you’ve done your best and you’re happy with it, the rest is out of your hands.

As you exit the assessment room, Soonyoung pipes up, “Drinks, drinks, drinks, drinks, drinks?” He chants pointing at each of you as he does, the group mumbles a variety of agreements. 

“Y/N?” Mingyu asks.

“Come on, it’ll be fun, try something new.” Seungkwan whispers. 

You look at your friends smiling eagerly as they wait for your response, with an exhale and a nod, you give in, “drinks.”

At the bar, you crowd a small table, each with a drink in hand, talking and laughing about whatever comes to mind. You play games, sharing embarrassing childhood stories and weird facts you never would’ve learnt anywhere else. You are having fun, smiling, peaceful but, something’s off. You can feel it. He’s been quiet all night, barely even looked at you. It was annoying. It was annoying that it annoyed you, a few weeks ago this would have been normal behavior but now, it was different, it upset you, made you feel like you’d done something wrong, made you feel… unwanted. 

Being truthful, you weren’t really feeling it tonight. If you had it your way you’d be on your couch right now watching a film. You weren’t gonna go, not until you saw his cheesy grin amongst your friends’, so sweet you could melt. He was the reason you went out tonight. Him, and Seungkwan’s words, you should try something new. You had never felt so overwhelmed by your own feelings, one minute you felt nothing short of hatred for Wonwoo and the next… your heart is fluttering every time your eyes meet. 

During your daze, Wonwoo gets up to buy another round for the group, the sound of his chair moving snaps your focus back to the table but he’s already disappeared. You excuse yourself to the restroom, taking the chance to talk to Wonwoo whilst everyone else is distracted. Standing beside him, his eyes are fixed on his phone, reading some kind of article. 

“Are you okay?” you ask him, nervous for his answer - you’re not sure what you’ll do either way. He looks up at you, soft dark eyes taking you in. He stands with an unreadable expression for what feels like forever before he finally opens his mouth to reply and then-

“Wonwoo! Come here quickly, settle this bet for us!” Sometimes, you really hate Soonyoung. 

He shoots you an apologetic look and then, he’s gone, just like that. All the courage you had built up, wasted on an unanswered question. Fuck this. You grab your jacket, shooting Seungkwan a ‘don’t worry I’ll text you later’ look and head for the door. You’re exhausted, tired of it all, you just want to be in your own bed. 

As you walk down the quiet streets, you hear another pair of footsteps catching up to you. 

“Are you okay?” 

You look at him. You’re irritable and know that you’re probably not going to say the right thing but what the hell. 

“So you’re allowed to ask but I’m not?”

“No, that’s not- I… I’m sorry, I never know how to act around you, I never know what to say, I’m always doing the wrong thing but I-”

“Wonwoo.” you interject, “I can’t do this right now. Just… just go back to the bar.”

He doesn't respond, a silent understanding. He doesn’t leave either. He walks alongside you the whole way home, giving you quiet to think, offering you a comforting smile whenever your eyes meet. It breaks your heart just as much as it warms it, that he, despite your outburst, stays by your side when you need someone.

Even if you try to push him away, somehow he knows, he knows that you want him there. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

With the group project over, you don’t see him as often as before, hardly ever when you’re alone. You decide to put him out of your mind for a while, to focus on work and the rest of your assignments. Wonwoo, though, seems to have a habit of sabotaging your plans. 

It started off with simpler things, turning up at your work just to place a complicated order, smirking as he watches you struggle with it. Then on exam week, a bag of your favorite snacks appears at your door. On a random Wednesday, he orders a pizza to your apartment. On your birthday, a small cake. And, there’s not a week that goes by where he fails to visit the cafe, you’ve grown to look forward to his bizarre orders and playful teasing. 

Once the professor announces the end of the lecture, you grab your laptop and walk towards the door where you’re met with a familiar face. 

“Ah, the coffee fairy, what can I do for you today?” you greet him, playfully. 

“Can we talk? I’ll walk you home.” he asks, his voice laced with anxiety.

“Okay…” you nod, curious as to why he’s acting this way. 

Walking through campus, he clears his throat, “So…” he trails off.

“So?”

“So I don’t really know how to say this. I mean, maybe you already know but I mean… I’m sorry, I’m sorry if I upset you, or hurt you, or made you angry. If you hate me, that’s okay I just-” 

“I don’t hate you Wonwoo. Not anymore, anyways.” 

He chuckles softly, “Well, I just want you to know that I don’t plan on giving up I… I think this is it for me,”

“It?” 

“You. I think you’re it for me. I think it was over for me the moment I saw you.” He takes a deep breath before continuing, “And I’m sorry about everything. Around you, I just, I forget how to act, I can’t think. It’s all just… you.”

As he speaks, your face begins to heat up under his gaze, a smile appearing on your face as you take his hand in yours hesitantly, squeezing it gently. Suddenly, he stops speaking, pausing to think.

“Wait… what do you mean you don’t hate me anymore?” You can only laugh at his question as he pulls you closer to him. 

The walk back to your apartment is nice, peaceful even, like this is where you’re meant to be. You turn towards him to say goodbye and thank him for walking so far out of his way. He can’t hide his shyness as he says goodbye, stammering slightly with rosy cheeks. You look at him, hoping for more, but his eyes are fixed to the floor as he blushes. You laugh quietly, finding him incredibly endearing before turning away to enter your apartment. 

Suddenly, you feel his hand reach for your arm, “wait.” he says, spinning you back to him. 

The action happens so quickly, you’re basically pressed up against him, one of your hands finding his bicep to balance yourself. You look up at him, it’s clear that he’s still nervous but he’s doing his best to play it cool, his hand rests on your lower back as he pulls you even closer. The way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing he’s ever known, sends the color to your cheeks and you can feel your heart beating faster by the second. 

His other hand finds your jaw as he leans his face closer to yours, his breath tickling your lips. His soft, puppy dog eyes search yours for consent, and just like in Mingyu’s kitchen, you can muster up nothing but a nod, your breathing getting shallower with anticipation, hunger. 

His lips delicately brush yours, cautious and timid. You kiss him back warmly, he tastes like peppermint and cola, both new and familiar at the same time. He leans into you more, growing more confident as you part your lips, letting him explore you further. You fall into a perfect rhythm with butterflies fluttering throughout you and your grip on the other becoming firmer.

Remembering that you need to breathe, you break away from each other slowly. He rests his forehead against yours, sharing your breathless giggles and smiles of relief. 

“Jeon Wonwoo.” you whisper, still in a daze.

“Hmm?” he hums happily.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t hate you anymore.”

“Only pretty sure?” he jokes, feigning upset.

“100% sure.” you correct yourself with a happy grin.

“Good.” he says, pecking you softly and then pressing another kiss against your cheek. “I almost went insane waiting for you to realize.”

“Realize what?” 

He pulls you into a warm, strong hug, resting his head on your shoulder before whispering “That it was always you and me.”

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

“What’s going on with Wonwoo?” Seungkwan asks on your way to class two days later.

“What do you mean?” 

“Something’s different… he’s brighter.”

“Why would I know anything about it, none of my business” you state, biting your lip to hide your knowing smile. 

“Oh come on, don’t act like you haven’t noticed!”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bro, he didn’t stop smiling the entire time he was there, it was weird. He even spoke differently, lighter.” 

You hum a manufactured surprised response as your friend continues. 

“Maybe he met someone, he always talks about that person he’s liked since he moved here, maybe he finally made a move - i hope so I don’t know how much more of his schoolboy pining I can take.” 

Your gaze is glued to the floor as you listen, knowing that you were the reason for all his changes and that he was the reason for all of yours. That he made the world seem new, brighter, happier. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

“Are you okay? We haven’t talked in a few days.” Wonwoo says over the phone.

“I’m sorry, it’s just my thesis, I feel like I’m never gonna leave this apartment again.”

“That’s okay! I get it,” he reassures you, “talk to me about it.”

He listens intently as you babble about your thesis, humming along, asking questions and offering advice. Whilst you explain the block that you’re facing currently, there’s a knock at the door. Getting up from your laptop to answer it, you continue, “And now, I’m not sure where to go next.”

“With me.”

“Huh?” 

Opening the door, he’s stood in front of you. His dark hair falling perfectly, as he runs his fingers through it, still holding his phone to his ear with a sweet smile and pride in his eyes. 

Hanging up the phone, he clarifies, “take a break, let’s go for dinner.” 

And how could you deny such a pretty face? 

Walking the streets, he speaks passionately as he shows you his favorite spots around the city and you find yourself just happy to be here with him, to witness his excitement with a cheesy grin that you reserve for only a few people in your life. 

“You’re quite the sweet talker, Jeon Wonwoo.” you say, giggling. 

“Of course,” he responds proudly, “How else would I get to have you by my side?” With that he pulls you into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around you, swaying playfully from side-to-side and holding you as if you’re all he needs with him right now. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

The elevator dings as the two of you stumble inside, your arms resting on his shoulders. Looking at him with adoration as he turns you gently, reaching his hand out to clumsily press the elevator buttons behind you. You giggle between kisses as you find your balance, clinging onto each other. You hardly notice when the elevator rings again outside your apartment, too busy with your hands tangled in his hair and his palms running across your sides in painstaking seduction. 

Then he’s guiding you out of the elevator, hands still firm on your hips and not daring to break away from you for even a second. He slips his hand into yours, taking your keys and mindlessly fumbles to unlock the door.

It takes mere seconds once the door opens for him to slam it shut and have you trapped against the wall, he moves against you sloppily, licking into you with pure hunger and adoration, a tsunami of lust as his groans echo throughout your body. 

“Fuck. If you’d just spoken to me on that first day, I would’ve made you mine then and there.” he whispers against your skin, trailing electric kisses down your jaw towards your collarbone. 

You laugh in shock, lifting his lips back up towards yours, his cold hands sneaking underneath your shirt as you kiss him back feverishly. “Me? No, you were the one who ignored me.” 

“Hmm” he responds breathlessly, turning you around and leading you to your bedroom. Drawn together like magnets, you both stumble across the room, hands and lips battling for the next sweet taste, the next wanting touch. 

“Look how far…” his lips find yours again, “just a bit…” and again, “of communication can go” you finally manage to moan out. 

“Are you gonna stop talking and be mine now or…?” he whines as you drag against his lips. 

You giggle softly as he lifts your arms to rest around his shoulders, pulling you in by the waist before his soft mouth is reunited with yours.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

You could never have imagined that you would come to find a safe space in Wonwoo. That you would eventually know him better than yourself. That the man you loathed, competed against, fought, would be yours. The man whose presence bothered you would soon be the one to hold your hand through good news and bad. That his happiness was your happiness, his sadness, his pride, his love. 

You never could have imagined that he would be the one waking you up on Sunday mornings with sweet kisses on your collarbone. That, at night you would be drawing idle patterns on his chest. That even after waking up from your dreams, he’d still be there holding you. That his touch was the only thing you craved, his kisses your favorite greeting, his voice your favorite song. His gaze and gooey brown eyes which used to irritate you to no end, would soon become your lighthouse in the storm.  You never could have imagined that you would love Jeon Wonwoo.

taglist: @peachytokki @aidanjoon @mykpopficblog @cheeseburgerjuseyo

[kimbapisnotsushi]

i was feeling shiratorizawa + semiten and kawashira hcs so y'all know the drill LET'S GO

goshiki has 100% forgotten that he sleeps in a bottom bunk bed and consequently has shot up awake at the sound of his alarm only to bang his head on the underside of the top bunk bed

or the ceiling if he has the top bunk it's the same either way

also for some random reason i really enjoy thinking about semi and peach green tea. idk he feels like such a peach green tea person

fun fact when i first got into hq i made a list in my notes app where i could keep track of what i thought EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER (organized by team) would order at a boba shop/cafe so i could reference it for fics. i just looked at it for the first time in years. i apparently put down strawberry black tea for semi which still remains a pretty good choice i think

you know what. semi can be a strawberry black tea AND a peach green tea person. he goes for peach green tea when he feels like straying from his usual strawberry black tea. there i fixed the problem we're back on track

tendou uses the excuse of going on boba runs for the team to get alone time with semi. he'll be like "haha i can't get ALL the drinks by myself!! eita come with me :3" and semi just sighs but is honestly secretly really pleased that tendou would choose him out of everyone to run errands with

the greatest love language of all: running errands together

i actually think that, all things considered, semi was probably a little bit insecure and a little bit shy when it came to performing

like yeah he doesn't mind BEING in the spotlight. but he had to work on thinking he was good enough for it at first if that makes sense??? and i think being benched for shirabu probably exacerbates that

he's not used to showing other people his songs and his music!!! he's not used to being vulnerable!! he's not used to believing that he's skilled!!! because obviously that didn't work out in volleyball!! what if semi isn't actually as good at music as he thought himself to be?

tendou of course is determined to make him throw all these thoughts out the window

furudate please give us the secret cultural festival arc where semi gets a chance to shine because of his musical talents . . .

actually since shiratorizawa is a bunch of rich kids i wonder if yamagata has a smartphone bc i just think that'd make him constantly losing it 100x funnier

yamagata: "can everyone shut the fuck up for like five minutes i lost my phone and need help listening for the vibrations"

honestly why do i feel like half the times yamagata has "lost" his phone was really just tendou messing with him

like he's in the foreground running around looking for it while tendou is in the background snapping selfies with it or whatever

reon, ushijima, and yamagata like to go jogging together early in the morning. semi tried it once and then promptly decided never again

i actually think soft quiet early mornings are reon's favorite time of day!! he gets some peace to himself and he gets to see the sunrise bleed into the sky and he gets that crisp sweet air of fresh dew in the dawn and it's so so comforting to him

god i don't know how he does it i could never be that much of a morning person

however this does also mean reon goes to bed at like nine pm at the latest which tendou is personally offended by

reon the early bird riser who probably does yoga or some shit before meeting ushijima and yamagata vs tendou the night owl who stays up til three reading manga in the dark

genuinely how is tendou functioning at practice he probably stays up til three like four out of seven days of the week

(sorry i know i'm dunking on tendou a lot i'll stop now)

kawanishi will never admit it but he is so incredibly fond of the height difference between him and shirabu

it allows shirabu to fit his head perfectly in the crook of kawanishi's neck during bus rides and such and it makes kawanishi's heart flutter every time

but also kawanishi is MISERABLE during spring because shirabu can't comfortably do that when kawanishi is prone to sneezing like every five minutes

shirabu, teacher's pet that he is, is really good friends with the school librarian

oh my god . . . kawashira blue sky complex au . . . i would actually cry . . .

okay anyways shirabu kenjirou is really good friends with the school librarian and that's how he finds out that the school librarian used to know ushijima's dad

wouldn't that be crazy tho????? i'm thinking it was either the same librarian that utsui had or it was a close friend of utsui's who became the school librarian after they graduated and stuff. i'm kind of leaning towards the second one bc i feel like that makes more sense

i just. can you imagine how alone ushijima had to feel. can you imagine how suffocating it had to be. like there's plenty of reason to assume that his mom's side (and perhaps the mom herself) ended up disliking utsui and i wouldn't be surprised if they tried to scrub him out of ushijima's life

new idea guys utsui comes back and gets with the shiratorizawa librarian

i'm KIDDING

(mostly)

honestly i just think this scenario would really show off how much shirabu and ushijima mean to each other because i think that gets underestimated a lot

they trust each other!!! they respect each other!!!! they understand each other!!! ushijima who knows that he is to be used for his pure raw strength and that that's all shirabu wants to do for him and shirabu who wants to bring out the best in ushijima and thinks of himself as someone who serves ushijima!!!!! shirabu and ushijima who both think they're being used by the other but they don't care because that works best for them!!!! it's their way of showing respect!!! by handing the reigns over!!!!

okay that's a really serious oversimplification of what i'm actually thinking but i got like five hours of sleep and i'm running on two mugs of some strong ass lotus green tea i trust you guys y'all get what i mean

like idk i think ushijima wouldn't really know what to do with shirabu when they first meet in their second and first years. quiet upperclassman who is occasionally a jerk but mostly does not mean to be and his equally quiet underclassman who IS a jerk and DOES mean to be. they'd be so fucking funny together. they back each other up in ways they don't even realize. they could leave entire crowds in tears on accident

actually . . . the poor third years back then who had to deal with this first year they thought was quiet and composed and unassuming and totally chill. but was, in fact, completely unchill

shirabu's gone to bat for every single member of the team at some point btw. soekawa ushijima reon yamagata semi tendou etc etc. none of them have ever witnessed it though word just gets passed around to them like shirabu is some honor-defending ninja who only works in the shadows

and then it really surprises shirabu when they come to bat for HIM

i mean i just. i think shirabu is really used to being independent. is used to doing things by himself. he's not used to other people sticking up for him or other people trying to guide him (which could be another reason why he clashes with semi). it's not that he thinks he's perfect but like. he's never had people who wanted to do that for him before!!

but now he's got goshiki who WANTS compliments from him and he's got kawanishi who loves him for whatever reason and he's got the upperclassmen who ruffle his hair and swing an arm around his shoulders and tell him ot text when he needs help and he's just like ???? like a system error.

give it up for shirabu kenjirou everyone i love him

[crispy-bonnie]

Hey There !

Oneshot For Bain And Female H/N ( Dating ) Where H/N Gets To See Bain's Face For The First Time ? 👀

Been A While Since I Requested Anything—

gonna use this request as an excuse to write a concept-ish scene for the dating sim so i hope you like spoilers because there’s gonna be a shit ton . also yes the title is a crk reference hush hush

keep in mind that this is probably gonna be ass bc it’s been a hot minute since i wrote something LMAO

!! SPOILERS FOR PAYDAY: HEIST FOR HEARTS + BAIN’S APPEARANCE UNDER THE CUT !!

Underneath the Slumbering Moon — BAIN X FEM!READER

You stared out the window at the various buildings that passed you within the van, very few vehicles on the roads that Twitch was taking you down. Bain had told you that this was a very important mission, but he prompted you not to bring any weaponry. Apparently this is supposed to be a peaceful information trade, and if you end up bringing anything then everything would be screwed over. Luckily, you wouldn’t find it difficult to kick ass if you absolutely had to.

Adorned in casual wear, you made sure that you would blend in with any passing civilians so that you wouldn’t alarm anyone. After all, you don’t have the proper equipment to deal with the cops. You eventually were pulled out of your thoughts when Twitch took a swift turn down an alleyway, your surroundings now darkened and barely being lit up by the sunset behind the buildings. The van started to slow, making its way down the alley before coming to a calm stop.

“Alright, here’s your stop.” Twitch hummed as he set the car to park, leaning back in his seat and kicking his feet onto the wheel without a care. You nodded, carefully opening the door up and hopping out. You slammed the car door shut before proceeding down the cramped and damp alleyway, your shoes squelching every now and then against the muck that was scattered along the ground.

The stench of the alley and the grime coating the ground started to slowly disappear as you proceeded down the narrow path. You could see a few trees and shrubs ahead, fairy lights and various flowers intertwined in the branches. The soft light lit up your ever shortening path as the sun continued to hide itself beneath the horizon.

You don’t know what Bain had set you up for, but it definitely wasn’t going to be an information trade. You soon found yourself in a little corner of the alley that just barely met with the forest behind the city, vines and strung up light bulbs upon the brick walls. There was a boombox to the corner of this space, a picnic basket sitting next to it as well. It seemed a lot more like a date spot rather than a secret trading area.

You opened your mouth to question Bain’s intentions, but he had already beat you to it as his voice spoke to you through your earpiece:

“It’s been nearly a year since we started dating. We’ve had so much fun over that period of time.”

You could hear a faint echo of his voice, almost as if he was nearby the place you found yourself standing in. You swiveled your head around in an attempt to find the source of the aforementioned echo, but your attention snapped towards a particular direction when you heard the sound of gentle footsteps approaching from in front of you.

“I remember that one night, during that masquerade ball, when you told someone about how you longed to dance with someone.”

You could see the silhouette of a man start to peek out from the few shrubs that lined the small opening to the forest, the earpiece soon shutting off as his voice spoke to you, clear as day.

“I thought that maybe…”

The man soon stepped out from the shadows of the opening, revealing a tall and fair-skinned man. His black beard was well trimmed, and his silky long hair was brushed back neatly. He wore a white t-shirt, black jeans, dress shoes, and a slightly beat up leather jacket.

“…I could share that dance with you now…?”

You stood there, your mouth ajar and your eyes wide with shock. Not only were you taken aback by his sheer handsomeness, but also with the fact that Bain really trusted you enough to reveal himself to you. Tears started to well up in your eyes, causing Bain’s calm smile to morph into an expression of worry.

“[Y/N]? Are you oka-” He was about to take your hand into his, but paused when you suddenly wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling yourself towards him and hugging him as tight as you possibly could. “I- h-hehe… this… this is nice…”

The two of you stood there in that hug for a moment, swaying back and forth ever so slightly. Bain even had his hands resting on your back. It was only a few minutes until you finally pulled away, yet it felt like forever. You looked up at him, a soft warm glow being casted onto his face by the soft string lights and the slumbering moonlight above as you quietly responded to his proposal:

“I would love to dance with you.”

[lokilysolbitch]

hello i would like to add some personal examples bc i have chronic nightmares and sleep paralysis

things i do after nightmare:

-sit and stare. the longer i stare the more fucked up the dream was

-i still try to prepare for things that were supposed to happen in the nightmare for a few minutes before i realize realize i don't need to

-if i wake up in the dark and the nightmare was more dread based than fear based, or if it had supernatural horror themes i'll be genuinely paralyzed out of fear until the sun comes up or i can get a light on

-also i will cover as much of myself as possible in blanket. you know so The Bad doesn't get me

-sometimes i wake up and don't even remember the nightmare and then later in the day when i remember The Horrors and im like "😃,,,,,,,,,,,😨"

-sometimes im afraid to sleep again and try to stay awake, sometimes i just accept it, sometimes i try to guess what flavor of nightmare i'll have next

things i do after waking up from sleep paralysis, once i can like, move:

-sit tf up as fast as possible, sometimes i'm wide awake after and sometimes i still feel half asleep, but either way i will get my ass uP even if it feels like i am made of molasses. rip to my phone trying to tell me i'm got my passcode wrong for the 8th time bc i'm to tired to think

-after sitting up long enough i'll re-evaluate going to sleep and if i do, i set a timer for like 2 minutes bc if i get sleep paralysis within that time the alarm vibrating snaps me out of it (not the sound though). and then i keep repeating the timer and sleep in 2 minute increments. sometimes the alarm doesn't go off for some reason and then i am just screwed and may or may not be having sleep paralysis again

other random sleep things:

-when i go to sleep i consider what would be a comfortable position to be stuck in if i get sleep paralysis

-i take naps with some sort of video playing so if i get sleep paralysis at least i'm entertained. i've woken up paralyzed to asmr bf content playing before. it was really helpful actually. none of you can judge me for it bc this is tumblr

-there's a whole system/flow chart for what makes sleep paralysis and nightmares happen more or less often for me and it sounds like someone explaining the rules of the english alphabet and all of its exceptions. (i can sleep during the day but i can't Go To Sleep during the day. sometimes. except if--) basically i will probably just have a nightmare/sleep paralysis

-this is probably a nicher experience but i'm pagan so sometimes i pray during sleep paralysis. i am saying "get me out get me out loki plsssssssssssssssss can you wake me up plssss i love you so much can you wake me up" and it has worked sometimes

-half the time i shoot up into sitting up after a nightmare/sleep paralysis before i'm even aware and every time i'm like "this is just like in the movies"

-sometimes while falling asleep i realize i'm falling asleep and i feel my muscles relaxing and i'm like "SLEEP PARALSIS⁉️🫨" and i snap awake and i have to distract myself with tiktok for several minutes before i try again

-sometimes i use sleep paralysis as a way to practice controlling dreams bc my brain likes the nightmare+sleep paralysis+physical pain(????????????) combo and i would like to change that. i don't think ur supposed to feel pain in dreams but my brain is a little bitch to me apparently. and it hates me

sleep deprivation things:

- i am autistic, but sleep deprived i get VERY fucking autistic, like more than my usual. i'm more sensitive to stimuli and my already low level of masking is even lower. if you say hi and smile at me i will literally just stare at you. smiling back hasn't even crossed my mind. i won't be able to soften my blunt comments. i lose the ability to dissociate through grocery trips. a lot of my safe clothes become unsafe and i can only tolerate skirts and loose shirts bc they don't feel like they're touching me. my meltdowns are generally internalized but when sleep deprived they will probably be external and happen a lot faster

things people do after having a nightmare that isn’t crying

struggle to catch their breath

grab onto whatever’s close enough to ground themselves in reality

become nauseous / vomit

shake uncontrollably

sweat buckets

get a headache

things people do to combat having nightmares if they occur commonly

sleep near other people so they can hear the idle sounds of them completing tasks

move to a different sleeping spot than where they had the nightmare

leave tvs / radios / phones on with noise

just not sleep (if you want to go the insomnia route)

sleep during the day in bright rooms

things people with insomnia do

first, obviously, their ability to remember things and their coordination will go out the window

its likely they’ll become irritable or overly emotional

their body will start to ache, shake, and weaken

hallucinate if it’s been long enough

it becomes incredibly easy for them to get sick (and they probably will)

add your own in reblogs/comments!

[almostfancywombat]

Amias Story Modern AU

(college au for my bastard children)

The end of class is all Amias needs to be spurred into thunder; tossing his bag over his shoulder, he catapults over the desk, clearing its length before landing with a flourish. Worn sneakers scrape against carpet as he launches into the hall, hearing his classmates and professor’s disgruntled exclamations.

Cheerfully humming, he weaves through his peers. Half-hearted greetings spill from his lips, the bare minimum to appease the hordes before he tears himself free from the surging throng, skirting along the hall’s edge, face nearly skimming the windows. Approaching the lobby, he soars out the doors and into the quad, dancing between the students milling about. Ever eccentric, Amias doesn’t draw much attention. If anything, it would be odder not to see him making a fool of himself.

Instead of returning to his car, he migrates to the library. Tucked into a study room, Amias spends the next hour editing next week’s video and ends up taking a nap on the beanbags strewn about, stealing half a dozen to hide beneath. Accompanied by a steady shuffle of papers and clicking keys, he weight on his chest and arctic air lulls him into a fitful nap.

Amias sleeps through his first two alarms and the student librarian wakes him when his 20th alarm blares. Thanking the girl, he tosses his belongings into his bag and rushes to the parking lot. Across the school, in the business department, Wren sits waiting for him to pick her up for lunch.

Shuffling along, he exits the building, squinting. He snags a scooter from a passing student and zips away. A cobbled path connects every department, and

Still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he abandons the scooter on the stairs outside. He shoots Wren a message, sitting down as he awaits a response. Meanwhile, he studies the students dotting the yard.

The business sector is filled with point-dexters and wanna-be Finance Bros, everything Wren is not. Despite her hobbies, she’s majoring in International Commerce, minoring in Mandarin, and taking additional classes in Arabic. She must enjoy abusing her mind. Today, her final class ends at 1:00, and since he ferries her from place to place, Amias will treat her to lunch-dinner.

ME  Where are you?? 😣 ❤️ Wren ❤️ otusdie bc 👍 Sorry talking with sb rn Stupid empjis

His head snaps around, scanning every nook and cranny. When he finally spots her, he’s surprised to find her sitting at a bench, sandwiched between a hijab-clad lady, and young man. Too youthful to be a college student, he has a fresh and startling visage, shocking Amias with traits atypical of his apparent race.

Though, it is difficult to be certain. As a world traveler, Amias has met people from all backgrounds, witnessed the pinnacle of beauty and fashion, yet none are as astounding as this boy.

An odd mix of characteristics. Tan skin, milky blue eyes and a nest of cinnamon sugar hair. He has a thousand-mile stare, deep, dark circles beneath his eyes. Despite this, his features are soft, not yet fully formed. He and the lady share the same eye shape, but they are otherwise incomparable.

Waving, Amias’ lips quirk upwards in the ghost of a smile. But when he realizes Wren is helping set up a laptop with high contrast mode and a million-point font, he cringes. His hand slips back to his side. The boy is visually impaired and not looking his way, but staring into space.

Wren huffs, still fiddling with the settings. “Sorry it’s taking so long. We should’ve done this during summer camp when we had the translators, but I didn’t have access to the school’s laptops.”

“It’s alright, you’ve done enough,” the lady says. To his linguistically untrained ears, her accent mistakenly registers as Turkish, but Amias is certain he’s incorrect.

The boy mumbles incoherently. Wren somehow understands.

“Yeah, it’s silly. I get that they’re busy, but the very least–” Wren accidentally hits text-to-speech, and the computer spews a Turkic-sounding language. She and the boy jolt, scrambling to turn down the volume.

Slinking over, Amias clears his throat, so as not to startle them. Keeping a safe distance between the other pair, he instead hovers over Wren, feeling her head on his chest. Fortunately, she recognizes the scent of his shampoo and relaxes.

“Amias! What are you doing here?”

He feels her head turn, cheek now pressing onto him.

“Surprise, surprise.” He grumbles. His hands glide over the screen, desperately accessing the toolbar. Despite the undecipherable language, he knows this model’s general layout well enough to disable the function. “I fell asleep in the library and woke up in time to treat you to Lunchner.”

“Oh shit. Can’t believe I almost missed Lunch-Dinner,” she whispers. She slams a few more keys, and the computer finishes its set-up procedures. The text is in what appears to be some Arabic script. “Great. Bye, Sieon, Sieon’s mom. I’ll see you next Thursday. Text or email me if you have any issues until then. I gave y’all my information, right?”

“Yes,” the lady answers, waving around a sticky note. “Thank you again, Wren.”

“S’no problem. Just glad to be of help.”

The boy mumbles and nods, leaning in toward the computer screen as he types a password. His other hand lifts a neon sticky note into the air. Wren’s number is imprinted with a thick permanent marker.

Unperturbed by his sudden appearance, the boy stares and murmurs in a foreign language. When she doesn’t respond, he repeats in the same quiet, steady tone.

Engrossed in packing her bag, it takes a seventh attempt until Wren notices. She takes a moment to process and cuts him off. She responds in Mandarin, which Amias mostly comprehends.

“Eh? Yeah, that’s my friend. 自从我哥哥��近找到工作以来，他就开车送我。I like going with him. 他总是给我送零食。” Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Wren practically throws out her hip to avoid hitting another table. She resumes on her way as if nothing happened and calls over her shoulder, waving. “Anyway, see ya.”

Amias waits until Wren occupies his side to move. Once they’re a safe distance away from the pair, he interrogates her.

“Who were you talking to?”

Wren inhales, prepping for a rant. “Sieon-Fletch Alimjan, a high-school junior. He’s taking English and dual-enrollment classes here.”

“And do you happen to know where he’s from?”

“Said he and his mom just moved from Urumqi, but his dad was already working in the States. They barely immigrated this past summer due to visa issues, and we actually met during June, at a camp I volunteered at. Apparently, the twin’s parents are their co-sponsors, and his dad is working for the same place my mom does, so we’re destined to be in each other’s lives in some way or another.” She scratches her cheek. “Even if he’s younger, I don’t mind. He reminds me of my brother.”

“It’s nice that you’re able to help,” notes Amias with a twinge of pride. She’s come a long way from refusing to even talk to teachers. “Look at you! You’ve developed such a talent for talking with people.”

Wren shrugs. “Not really. He speaks Uyghur, but more Mandarin than English, and I won that study abroad contest, so I’m pretty good at it. I’m only good with him because the admins sorta offered me extra credit for something to tour his family. We get along fine, but he has another aid to help him around when I can’t. Oh, guess what? He's going to Berlian, our old high school. Coincidence, isn’t it?” Then, in a quieter voice, she adds, “You know, I don’t think we would be friends if we hadn’t met so early.”

“How could you say that?” It stings, but he plays it off as a joke. While Amias knows his abrasive personality is off-putting, he’s always restrained it for her, just as she dilutes some aspects of hers. That’s how their relationship works, at least; they have clear boundaries that are hardly crossed, so there’s no reason to enforce arbitrary rules. “We were both weird kids, so I knew we’d get along. Who else had a family member who spoke French?”

“Roman,” she answers, balancing on a curb stop.

He winces. That weird band dictator who insists on auditioning despite having no time? Amias never wishes to make his acquaintance. “He doesn’t count because he’s Quebecois, and his accent is bad.”

Wren stares long and hard. She blinks slowly, like a cat. “I always knew French people were rude, but you’re like, unnecessarily evil sometimes.” Then, before he can act offended, she expertly switches topics. “Anyway, what’s so important that we gotta leave school early?”

“Nothing much,” says Amias, unlocking his car. Sliding behind the steering wheel, he tosses his bag into the backseat and toggles with the radio. Expectant, he eyes Wren. “I’m taking you to Dos-i-Deux to celebrate surviving our first day back.”

Clenching her jaw, Wren remains resolute. A homebody by nature, she prefers drinking instant coffee at home. He’s testing her, playing right into her weakness. But a glance at him sends her resolution tumbling.

“Fine,” she concedes, tossing her bag through the window. It hits him in the face and he carelessly chucks it, a small act of revenge. “Why do the coffee shops in town have the wackest names?” She ponders aloud and runs through a mental list before stopping abruptly. “Turn on the AC.”

“Do you pay for my gas?”

“Turn on the AC,” demands Wren, grabbing and flapping her collar.

He grabs her hand, stopping her from flashing passersby. They enter a staring contest, a death match between an immovable object and an unstoppable force. But relenting to Wren’s will is inevitable. She doesn’t have to say anything before  he’s sighing and reaching for the dial.

Whatever. Whatever Wren wants, Wren will seize. It doesn’t help that, when it comes to her, Amias has a backbone like a chocolate eclair.

On full blast, a cold breeze knocks his hair into disarray. “Can I just lower it?”

“No.” Wren nods, then proceeds to steal his phone and monopolize the radio. Her taste in music is strange; she blares music from eras bygone in languages Amias has never heard.

Nevertheless, they mumble along, and when they reach Dos-i-Deux’s, he has already acquired a taste for Bad Bunny and indigenous Siberian rock. The latter is somewhat expected of her completely random tastes, but Amias picks up Morales influence; Lucinda has raved about the previous, but he hadn’t taken her word on the singer until now.

“The usual?”

Feet on the seat, she holds her knees to her chest. The blue light of her phone illuminates her face. “Yup. I’ll Venmo you the $6.50 later.”

Amias pauses to ruffle her hair. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just deduct from your snack allowance when you come over to study.”

“Ugh.” She slides back in the seat, slamming a palm into her forehead. “Don’t remind me. Can we invite Pan? She’s the only reason we got into this school and she’ll be the only reason we stay in it.”

Laughing, Amias retrieves his wallet and crosses the parking lot. Head swiveling around, he takes in the city, hears its bustle. It’s near the local college campus and a well-placed suburb in a quieter part of town. What he wouldn’t do to leave this place.

Greeting the lady at the counter, he intends to ask about her paid internship. They’ve developed a repertoire, with him helping to introduce her to one of his many contacts while she offers free drinks and company whenever he doesn’t want to work at home. Much to his complete and utter dismay, an entirely different yet still familiar girl turns around to greet him.

Suddenly, the bright decor fades like watercolors left in the rain. The once cozy place, small with heaps of decorative pillows on benches, feels stifling. Is it getting hotter? Is he on the verge of fainting?

“Oh shit,” Amias mutters. Too late to exit, he steels himself and undergoes incredible mental gymnastics in the few seconds it takes to cross the threshold. To emotionally devastate her, or not? He better play it safe. He reciprocates Molly’s wave but lacks the enthusiasm, limp-wristed as his lips curl into a thin line. Leave, he must.

Attempting to place the order and bolt, Amias tries ignoring her, but that ghastly smile remains plastered across her face. After stating Wren’s simple order and requesting a substitution for regular milk, he divulges his diabetes-inducing concoction of syrup, coconut milk, and double whipped cream. Molly is excruciatingly slow to input it. With a heavy heart, he realizes he must participate in the treacherous thing called Small Talk.

Idle banter is not his style; it saps his very soul from his body.

“So, you work here now?”

Hilarious, coincidental, even, that it happens to be the cafe he frequents. He’s starred in a few local, cringe-worthy ads for the place, but perhaps it’s time to cut ties and move on to greater vistas, like their competitors who’ve offered to scoop him up once his contract ends.

The girl twirls a strand of dyed hair, a similar shade to his peroxide locks. “Yeah, today’s my first day. I just got hired.”

“Can’t believe you got another so soon,” grumbles Amias, jamming his card into the slot. “Don’t make my order, then. I’ll take my business elsewhere. I don’t want it to look like shit.”

“Why’re you being so mean?” Molly pouts, leaning in.

Amias grimaces. He forgot she’s into strange, strange things, influenced by the female version of those Alpha Male podcasts and mistakes his Molly-oriented misogyny for attraction.

Sighing, he tugs a chair free and plops onto it, slouching over the table. Amias scrolls through his messages, finding them mostly filled with alerts to redundant comments posted by his younger fanbase. Still, he responds to a fellow creator and a few subscribers in the time it takes Molly to prepare his order.

Scrutinizing it, he deems her training as effective. “Who trained you?”

She beams, relishing in him initiating the conversation. “Some exchange student. Aline something? Has a funny accent?”

He scoops up the drinks, making a mental reminder to inform the manager of Aline’s miraculous teaching abilities.

“M’kay, bye, thanks!” He says, voice sing-song. The second drink rests in his hand while his copiously sweet concoction rests in the crook of his elbow. He bolts before he can feel guilty about not leaving a tip.

Shuffling back to the car, Amias spots Wren staring at her phone, mouth moving. Puzzled, he observes her for a moment, knocking on the door to signal her to unlock it.

He steals a sip from both beverages before setting them in the cup holders. “Who were you talking to? Did Sieon call for something?”

Instead of her bumbling voice, a deeper register responds. “Me.”

Amias jolts, eyes darting to the rearview mirror. A pair of sharp, cat-like eyes stare back. Practically tossing himself into Wren’s lap, he peers between the seats. The boy looks to be seventeen or eighteen, likely his age. Entirely unbothered, dark brown eyes crinkle as the only hint at the smile he flashes beneath his mask. A hand rises to tousle long, wavy hair.

Gorgeous, gorgeous young man. Instantly, Amias decides to despise him with every fiber of his being as he unbuckles and turns around.

“Who the fuck are you and why are you in my car?”

“Language!” With a hand gripping his hair, Wren shoves Amias back into his seat. “Let me explain.”

“You better! He’s even wearing a mask.”

“Allergies,” the stranger justifies.

Utterly perplexed, Amias throws open the door. Turning back to Wren, he shoots her a look that demands she follow his example. With her complying, he grabs his keys and locks car, consequently trapping the boy inside.

The boy presses his face against the glass, miming sorrow. Wren laughs, and Amias snaps to reign in her attention, but he also drifts. From inside the shop, he spots Molly peeking out. When they make eye contact, he sends a withering glare her way. For good measure, he flips her off.

The intruder rolls down the window, studying them.

“Roll it back up,” Amias demands.

“Nah, leave him,” Wren says with a shrug.

“You’re fine with this?”

“Sure, why not? Let’s go inside. It’s not a complicated story, but I want him to tell you, too, and your car isn’t exactly the best place. He’s freaked out about how expensive it is.”

Inside? In Molly’s domain? Amias thinks the fuck not.

“Get back in. We’re going where there aren’t so many witnesses.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

Impossibly, the boy finds no issue with the statement. His compliance makes Amias feel like the worst person in the world as he slides back behind the wheel, intent on driving far, far from the establishment. To dissipate the stifling air, he flips through radio stations before connecting his phone. He scrolls through dozens of playlists, attempting to find one that would suit his assumption of the boy’s taste. He feels like it will be something entirely unexpected. Tedious, Amias deigns to ask.

“Do you have a favorite singer or band?”

“Lady Gaga,” comes his candid response.

And so, the listening party begins with Poker Face. Amias is too mentally exhausted to care when he realizes he accidentally looped the song and it repeats for the ride’s duration. Even more disturbing, the boy doesn’t seem to mind. Amias feels a spark of respect for the boy; he has no room to judge someone who demands to hear Lady Gaga after agreeing to be driven away by a stranger.

He speaks fluently, yet in short, choppy sentences, almost reserved. “I was chased by a dog. Wren allowed me inside, so I came.”

That’s one thing explained; she’s terrified of dogs and would gladly aid anyone suffering similarly. “But that doesn’t explain why you let him in my car.”

“I wouldn’t have if it was something smaller, but it was a labrador.” Leaning in, she tugs Amais down to her height, whispering in his ear. “Also, he was running super fast. It intrigued me.”

Oh. My. God. She has the mental process of a kindgartener when it comes to choosing people to become infatuated with.

Amias indignantly huffs. “So?”

Wren punches his arm, hard. “The kid I was helping set up the computer,” she begins, “is his host family’s son. They just moved to the area from across town because Yanan’s participating in some sports competition thing, and the best training center in the nation just so happens to belong to some local university. Right?”

Nodding, the newly-annointed Yanan beams. He seems eager to share every detail, but Amias lacks the patience for rants and cuts to the chase.

“Great. Nice meeting you, Yanan. Just tell me where you live. I’ll drop you off, but you owe me gas.”

“Money for gas,” adds Wren, clarifying.

Yanan tilts his head and huffs. “Sorry. All my money is still in yuan because I get better rates here - the rate is terrible when you do the exchange at home. I could give it later. Do you have WeChat?”

Amias scoffs; he’ll pass on trusting a stranger’s word. He supposes he must relent his incessant rudeness and be nice for once. Already, he plans for damage control and bribery in the likely case Yanan takes to the internet to share what a major jerk he is.

“Oh, never mind,” he piques. “My host family lives around this area. Thank you, but I’ll walk.”

“Problem solved, then,” Amias says, already dragging Wren to the car. But she halts when she hears her name, Yanan thwarting their escape.

“Wren, right?” Yanan tilts his head. “Let’s get coffee sometime. My treat.” He suggests, offering his phone. The case is obscenely cutesy, an animal with a transparent pocket containing a holographic photo. Stickers decorate the heap of metal and plastic.

“Sure,” says Wren. Weighing the device in her hands, she smiles. “What’d you give me this for? I believe you about the RMB to USD exchange rate being trash, but I think it’s currently seven to one.”

Yanan blanks. “What?”

“Huh?”

Amias releases a delirious laugh and praises the heavens for the first time in his life. Wren is too embarrassed to assume anything about other people’s intentions. She’s not shy and will gladly ask for clarification, but the gears in her brain turn very slowly when confronted with something strange.

He clears his throat, interjecting before she remembers why people give each other phones after making favorable first impressions.

“Come on. Your mom said I need to get you home before three today. She’s bringing over one of your neighbors for that tamale workshop.”

Yanan sneakily glances at his phone. It’s barely 1:05.

“Ooh, Mrs. Garcia. I love that old lady. Are you staying for that?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Successful with his distraction, Amais swipes the phone from her hands and returns it to the mysterious exchange student. He places an arm around her shoulders and guides her back into the car. In the rearview mirror, he sees Yanan shaking his limbs out. Then, he leans down

“He seems like a nice boy,” comments Wren, sticking her hand out the window to view his escape. “If Sieon’s family is hosting him, what university do you think he's attending? What kinda major does he look like?”

Amias shrugs. Their university is down the street, then a conservatory for musicians, then acommunity college. In the next town over, there’s a trade school.  He hopes Yanan attends one of the latter two and was only near their campus to tour it.

“I think he’d get along with our friends. It’s too bad we probably might not see him unless it’s through Sieon. People like him don’t live normal lives, do they?” Without allowing him a chance to breathe, she continues. “Do you think he’s doing online classes, holed up in a practice room? Then he practices to bring glory to a state that isn’t even in the same country as his and repeats the entire thing. And when he leaves, it’ll be without experiencing much of anything because he wasted all that time pursuing his craft.”

“Uh… Is that still a questions?” asks Amias, squinting.

“No, just observations. The thought is depressing. But could that be fulfilling to some people?”

Secretly, Amias hopes they’ll never see him again. For a more standard experience in an American university, Yanan should attend their rival school.

“Eh, maybe. You’re reading too much into this one interaction.” He nearly adds that she could always check if he’s on social media if she’s that concerned, but he’d rather enjoy her undivided attention for a moment longer.

Pulling out of the parking lot, Amias steers ahead. They soon come to a stop sign, where Yanan stands, plucking at keys on his phone. Wren rolls down the window and sticks her head out to offer a departing salutation. Yanan laughs, and Amias glares at him through the rearview mirror. Amias sees him reaching up to grab a descending flower. Bringing it to his nose, he waves.

Amias slams on the gas pedal, nearly flying over the speedbump.

“Hey, watch it!” Wren yelps, arms bracing herself against the dashboard.

Already, Wren has launched into a retelling of today’s events. Amias hopes this means she’s forgotten about the strange, new boy, but his dreams are crushed when she slams her head onto the dashboard and screeches, nearly causing him to swerve into a tree. Heart painfully thumping, he stares at her with wide eyes and gritted teeth. It feels like he’ll burst a vein.

“What?” He snarls. “What, Wren? What?”

“Was that dude asking for my number?”

[missmonsters2]

natasha is dating the newest enhanced avenger whose nightmares come to life. one night the team watches a zombie movie and they have a nightmare based off of it and the team has to face a fuckton of zombies all while nat tries to convince r that it’s not real to get it to go away

I love zombie movies but my favorite is warm bodies bc i'm a cheeseball

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: none. Nat being cute tho.

Count: < 1k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The last couple of nights haven't been too good for you sleep-wise. You looked at your reflection in the mirror, huffing slightly. It was apparent in the dark circles that were slowly forming under your eyes.

"Everyone is in the common room waiting for you, if you are ready," FRIDAY's voice came through.

"Yeah, you can tell them I'm on my way out," you said.

You were a little nervous. Apparently, in the Avengers' downtime, they watched movies together every week. This was your first week joining as Natasha finally mustered up the courage to ask you out.

Previous to that, you were rather a loner. It wasn't anything personal. You were just still adjusting to your powers. But Natasha had asked you to join tonight, and you didn't want to disappoint her.

Everyone smiled at you as you came out, and you felt a little bad you had been avoiding them despite them just wanting to help you. You gave a small smile back as you took a seat next to Natasha.

It was still new, just a few dates here and there, but it was going well.

"Hey," she smiled.

"Hiya," you said back, your smile widening.

"You okay?" Natasha asked as she studied your face. You wondered if she could see your dark circles.

"Yeah, just a little tired," you waved it off. "I'll probably go to sleep right after this."

"You sure?" Natasha bit her lip, feeling bad she asked you to come.

You hummed as you laced your fingers together and squeezed her hand gently.

It was a zombie movie tonight. You've never seen it before, but you could hardly remember the title. It was adrenaline-inducing, though. With the big screen TV and surround sound system, it felt like you were really immersed.

The night ended without a hitch, and you found yourself having fun.

"Goodnight," Natasha smiled as she leaned in to kiss your cheek.

"Night," you smiled, your heart fluttering before entering your room.

You sighed, tired as fuck as you crawled into your sheets. You were out before your head hit the pillow.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Baby, wake up!"

Your eyes snapped open, and up sat up, dazed, alarmed, and confused. You sat up, nearly screaming as there were bodies on the floor. It was rotting and decaying, making noises you definitely didn't like.

"What the fuck is happening as you looked around the room. Everyone was in there with you, trying to hold off what they could while Tony was having FRIDAY lock down your room.

"We stayed up to play some cards but all of these things appeared an hour after you left!" Steve said as he used his shield to cut one of the zombies down.

"I—" You started to say but felt your breath quickening.

"Sweetheart, sweetheart," Natasha placed her hand on your shoulder as she tried to calm you down. "It's okay. It's not real. It's just—it's you. Your powers..."

"That means it is real," you snapped back, and you didn't even have time to feel bad about it when the zombies on the floor were reassembling back together and getting up.

"You need to make it go away," Natasha pleaded with you. "You can do it."

Natasha kept saying reassurances to you as you forced yourself to take deep breaths until you could focus.

Soon, the zombies began to disintegrate, fading away until there was nothing left.

Everyone slumped down with a huff of relief.

"Oh, thank god, I don't think we could've held off the hoard behind the room," Wanda sighed but gave you a smile to let you know she wasn't upset or anything.

"I'm so sorry," you said, horrified and eyes wide. "I—I don't know—"

"It was probably just the movie," Steve said, giving you that same reassuring smile. "Natasha said you looked pretty tired. Dreaming of zombies, I'm assuming?"

You gave a weak nod.

"S'okay. Shit happens," Bucky said nonchalantly, giving you a thumbs up with his metal arm. It was kind of silly.

"But definitely no more horror movies until you've gotten a good eight hours of sleep," Tony cocked his brow at you, smirking.

"Sorry," you sheepishly said, but everyone waved it off as they began to pile out your room.

"You okay?" Natasha said as she used her sleeve to wipe away some of the damp sweat on your forehead.

"Yeah," you nodded. "Thanks for waking me up."

"Of course," Natasha leaned in to kiss your cheek. "Are you gonna go back to sleep?"

You nodded. "I'm going to try."

"Would you...want some company?" Natasha bravely asked, and you looked at her. "I mean, I promise we'll just sleep!" She added hurriedly.

You smiled, thinking about how you had such a wonderful team and, hopefully, a wonderful girlfriend soon.

You nodded. "I hope you're not a blanket hogger."

[lilithbasically]

*Minors DNI*

Shigaraki x Reader

Requested by @ravenina14

Takes place when LoV was still smol. Reader's villain name is Revoke, quirk is called Cancel. Can cancel other's quirks if she knows what it is for an undisclosed amount of time (yes super OP, I know), long lost childhood friends to lovers. Reader calls him Tenko bc that's how she's always known him.

Warnings: angst/fluff to smut, hickies, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), mirror sex, hair pulling, light choking, praise

W.C.: 1.8K

_______________

15 years prior

This was your favorite thing to do with Tenko. Doing nothing but laying in the grass, holding hands, watching the clouds drift by.

"Tenko?"

"Yeah, Y/N?"

"Do you think we'll be best friends forever?"

"I hope so. I don't wanna be without you, and you're the only one I can touch and I like that."

"Promise you won't leave me behind, Tenko?"

Little Tenko gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, something you both did when the other was scared or nervous.

"I pinky promise, Y/N."

Now

Sitting at the bar in the LoV hideout, Shigaraki wondered of all possible memories his mind could conjure, why the second most painful one reared its cherished but ugly head. He loved remembering you and how much he loved you but he hated knowing he'd broken his promise. Of course, he didn't mean to. He had no way of knowing how much his life would change just a few days after that promise was made but you didn't know that and that's what tore him apart the most. His mind produced the worst possible things you could've thought. Thinking about you question how much he loved you damn near brought him to his knees.

Trying to distract himself from his misery, he tuned his hearing to the tv. Some small time villain got caught and, apparently, they gave the cops an extremely difficult time. "Not much is known about this mystery woman. She hasn't been detained prior and she hasn't given her name, only what she goes by: Revoke." The reporter paused, pressing a finger to her earpiece, she continued, "Oh, it seems we have an update. Her quirk is called Cancel. She can cancel out anyone's quirk just by knowing what it is."

Shigaraki's head snapped up to watch, trying to get any kind of confirmation his suspicions were founded when he heard, "And we finally have a name to the face," a picture of you flashed onto the screen, "Y/N L/N."

Standing from the barstool, he motioned at Kurogiri who slightly bowed and produced a portal.

"Dabi, let's go."

"You wanna fill me in on the purpose and location of our little field trip?"

Placing his father's hand in it's normal position, Shigaraki smiled, "Recruiting. The police have something of ours and we're going to get it back."

__________

The blaring scream of the fire alarm stole you from your dreams. 'Hmm, I wonder if they even bother evacuating us deviants,' you thought. Before you could ponder it further, your attention was drawn to your cell wall crumbling. Once the dust started to settle, a tingle shot down your spine when you saw the man in front of you. A hand covering his face, stretching an arm out, beckoning you toward him when he spoke, "Come on, Y/N, let me take you out of here."

As hesitant as you were, it was a free ticket out of prison, okay? No way were you going to refuse that. Following him to a purple and black churning cloud(?), you were joined by a man covered in scars and staples before being pulled into said mysterious cloud and emerging into a bar.

"Okay what the hell is happening? What do you want from me?" You asked.

Handyman slowly walked toward the bar and took a seat before speaking, "Leave us, both of you."

You watched them leave the room before turning your gaze to the man sitting at the bar. "Soooo...you wanna give me a hint? Play 20 questions, maybe?" You asked.

Removing the hand from his face, facing away from you, he chuckled before answering, "Still the same firey girl full of sass, huh, Y/N?"

"Sorry, am I supposed to know who you are? I feel like I'd remember a dude covered in hands, honestly. Wait! Did I fuck you and not call you back?"

"N-," Shigaraki tried to interrupt that tangent, albeit in vain.

"Okay, dude, look, if that's what happened and this is you getting revenge, let me tell you it wasn't personal, okay? I don't do well with trusting men. That shit fucked me up once and I don't want it to happen again. Your dick game was probably A1-"

"Y/N!" Shigaraki yelled, finally garnering your attention, "I don't know how you'll react. I want to tell you who I am but I don't want you to hate me," his voice barely able to whisper the last bit out.

"Oh, so...I do know you?" You asked, seeing him nod, you continued, "When did we meet?"

"A very long time ago," he muttered.

"Well, that's not helpful. Okay...ummm...do I know you personally or professionally?"

Shigaraki took a deep breath and sighed, "Personally."

"Gimme some help here, my guy. Even just a single word that would lead me in the right direction," you pleaded.

Taking two steps toward the mystery man, you stopped, keeping him an arms length from you.

"I'll give you two words," Shigaraki said as he turned to face you.

Preparing for the worst, you sucked in a breath, holding it until he answered, "Broken promise."

Your eyes immediately snapped to him to find his already boring into you, trying to see your thoughts, your emotions, your mind.

You shook your head slowly, trying to decide if you should humor this or not when your sentimental side won out, "If this is a fucking joke, none of you bitches are walking out of here. What was his name?"

Shigaraki's eyes pierced your own, holding your gaze, finally answering, "Tenko."

Your thoughts come to a screeching halt while you carefully study the man in front of you.

Your voice but a mere breath, you asked, "Tenko...what happened?"

__________

After moving to his bedroom and hearing his story, you sat in his lap with your legs wrapped around his torso, arms around his neck, for what seemed like hours. Nothing more than weightless touches, countless whispers in apology, chaste kisses pressed to lips.

His fingers removing your shirt, you let his hands ghost over the curves of your body, starting at your hips. Gliding up your waist and ribs, sliding his palms over your nipples, his lips finding their home on yours, he whispered, "I fucking missed you. Missed touching...I've needed you for so long, Goddess. I'm sorry for leaving you," he said, dropping his lips to kiss along your collarbone, "I didn't mean to break my promise."

"Mmhhmmm, Tenko...I know. I know you didn't. Why didn't you come find me though?" He stopped his assault on your skin to pull back and look into your eyes, his hands falling back down to your hips.

"I know it wasn't fair and I'll do anything I can to make it up to you, please...please know I tried," Shigaraki pleaded. Terrified of losing you a second time, he would do whatever you wanted to make you stay.

Reaching down to palm him through his pants, you leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Show me how much you missed me, Tenko."

"Fuck," he hissed through clenched teeth, removing his own shirt. Carrying you to the bed, his lips never left your own, the hunger behind them growing, your breaths coming out in heavy pants.

He laid you down, immediately leaving a trail of kisses over your breasts, taking time to gently nibble and circle his tongue over each nipple before continuing his path. Stopping at your hips to lick and suck until proof he was there bloomed under your skin while he removed your pants and panties, removing his own as well.

Laying between your legs, his right arm wrapped around your thigh, fingers spread across the supple flesh, kneading. He hummed appreciatively at the sight of your dripping core before dragging a finger through your folds, collecting your arousal and moving to press small, calculated circles over your clit. Watching your back arch and hearing you whimper, "Mmmm, Tenko, please...," destroyed any patience he had. Dipping his head down, he pressed his tongue into your cunt and moaned at the taste, sending vibrations rumbling through you. Continuing his ministrations over your clit, he leaned back, releasing your thigh in favor of pushing two digits into you, curling them up.

Pressing his lips against your inner thighs, alternating between them, licking, biting, and sucking his marks into your skin, he murmured, "Cum for me, Y/N. Cum just like this, Angel, then I'll fill you up. Fuck you like you deserve."

Shigaraki watched you, your mouth dropping open to moan his name and your back arching while you rocked your hips against his hands, trying to burn this image of you, these sounds you make, in his head. Thinking this is as close to heaven as he'd ever be, he never wanted to forget anything about his Angel.

Hovering over you, laying sweet kisses across your neck, he whispered, "Do you trust me?"

"Always, Tenko."

Sitting up, he pulled your body toward him before putting you on all fours, grabbing your hips and rutting his cock through your folds, "Face down, Angel," aligning the tip to your aching entrance.

"Fuck, Tenko, plea-," you were cut off by your own moan, surprised you could make a noise so lewd when he fully sheathed himself in you with one quick thrust.

"Goddamn, Y/N...so fucking wet for me. Such a perfect girl for me..." he trailed off as he pulled his hips back, dragging his length against your walls, letting you feel every vein.

"Fuck, Angel I can't wait," his nails dug into the meat of your hips leaving little crescent marks when he thrust his hips against you so hard you were left breathless. The onslaught of his harsh momentum making his balls slap against your clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Angel, look at you."

Winding a hand through your hair to grip the roots and pull your head up, you noticed a mirror propped in front of his bed. His eyes locked with yours as he continued to pound into you, his lips turning up into a wide grin when you moaned his name, your eyes rolling back, pussy gushing around his dick.

His other hand snaking around to hold your throat, pulling you back in time with his thrusts. "Fuck, you look so pretty when you cum on my cock, Angel. Such a perfect cunt...my perfect girl...gonna fill you up, ahhhh fuck, Y/N," moaning when he flooded you with thick ropes of cum, pushing you over into your third release. He removed his hand from your throat to circle your clit, still fucking you through it.

Pulling out of you smirking when you whined at the loss, when he was sure you were floating back down to earth, he pulled you into his chest. Laying your head on his shoulder, one hand drawing shapeless designs over your ribs, the other intertwining his fingers with yours.

"Y/N, will," Shigaraki started, clearing his throat to rid the nerves from his voice, "Will you stay with me?"

Giving his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze, you pressed a kiss to his chest and whispered, "Pinky promise I will, Tenko."

_______________

General tags:

@fatbitchgeek-blog @sunflowers-rae @totally-not-bakus-hoe @whatever-the-fuck-i-dont-care

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 3/8/22

this week on This Old House

listening dangerous heart, by night club. another kind of goofy little song with a hook that’s thoroughly stuck in my head, that little bloopy bit that sounds like you’re booking it down a rainy highway in a eighties cybernoir. i would have been Very Into this song in high school, but it’s got a real 2016-2018 flavor of...songs that a movie about a female assassin would feature in the climax, where she’s stalking inside a secured facility soaked in rain and neon to kill her mentor/replacement father figure. this sort of driving but understated club music simply did not exist when i graduated high school in 2013

reading fallow week

watching everyone will be delighted to know i am finally watching deep space nine, one of the uncountable star trek tv runs. im about halfway through s1 and im very much “wow cool space station!” and enjoy the little morality puzzle it throws at me and then immediately bulldozes over. who all here has good meta or background reading. apparently there’s a podcast some of the cast did breaking down each episode and i do want to listen to that but maybe not right now.

i love aggravated hands on hips dad sisko. no one will be surprised to know i adore major kira. awful terrible woman, great deal of fun to watch.

playing parking jam 3D, a free mobile game by popcore. unfortunately i did pay to remove ads on this one but i think it has paid for itself by helping me fall asleep several nights in a row. sometimes i check out an app if it’s been in the top 20 for several months of logging shit for work in a row. just to see what’s up. i like simple slidy puzzles. soothing for the brain

the dev, popcore, is a berlin-based company with 100+ employees which is on the larger side for a studio that hasn’t been snapped up yet but they’re making a fucking killing bc their ad placement and frequency is incredibly fucking annoying and this half-paying-attention feedback loop makes it real easy to do uhhhhh several thousand levels while waiting for other things to happen. hypercasual games! easy to pick up with no language barrier where a level can be played in under thirty seconds! that’s how they getcha! i know how it works and i work here and it still got me!

making all right here we go lotta shit happened this weekend bc i attempted to work out some rage in a healthier way mostly by making my kitchen nicer. i’m still catatonically angry but my kitchen does look way nicer.

but first two additions to the bay window room (in my head i call it the office bc that’s mostly what i do in there but it feels very proprietary. other people live here also):

this tiny hardwood/brass table cleaned up very nicely, i regrettably did not take before pics and the craigslist posting has been sensibly taken down. brassoed the living hell out of it, then murphy’s wood soap, 3 layers of tea stain on scratches that didn’t do much of anything, tightened the joints, “solved” a stripped screw problem with a generous dollop of wood glue, and put my little felt furniture pads i love so much on the feeties. there are zero ninety degree angles in this house and none of the floors are level either but it’s at an acceptable level of wobble. i keep forgetting to acquire a rubber mallet to gently persuade the little brass tray to go back in its little cutout but it’s usable. the goal is to make a nice little reading nook in the entryway/other living room bc we simply don’t really use that room very much and it’s weird.

this three and a half foot tall lamp also cleaned up real nice: (vacuumed the shade, glued an alarming amount of the trim and edging back down with my good friend liquid stitch, cleaned the glass and cord, dusted off the metal part, pried open the bottom and removed the broken nightlight bulb)

kitchen: put up art (vaguely anti-war and anti-military-in-space themed, i cannot think of a more western massachusetts thing than decorating my sundrenched prewar kitchen with a gallery wall of activist posters mostly purchased in one fell swoop the last time i got a bonus, i have become that which i hate but it does look fucking sick imo) patched nail holes from failed attempts at gallery wall, caulked a bunch of shit while i was up there, patched some other nail holes from other shit.

after/before, posters from left to right: fuck your space tourism, protect mauna kea, bofa het (my sister got this at some local print on demand shop but here’s an etsy listing), daddy what did you do in the climate war?, a gift from the people of the united states of america, we checked no heaven for bootlickers, octavia butler

acquired pompom trim. acquired more fabric to make curtains for the hall window. washed the new fabric and the curtains i had already made and managed to bleach them evenly, a thing i did not manage the last time i washed them. put the pompom trim on the sink window curtains, managed to complete one set of cafe curtains but i do not have it in me tonight to do the other set so that’ll have to be next week’s making or something. also put up plants on plant hooks from the ceiling (found out my ceiling is inch and a quarter thick plaster and lath) but am also not satisfied with how they are hanging. much to tweak.

there are a couple more things i want to do in the kitchen (magnetic knife strip, contact paper for our weird backsplash, figure out wtf is up with our water filter, finish the wretched hive of scum and villainy cross stitch + frame + hang that up so it covers a weird hole left by a light fixture over our back entryway, a better solution for mops and brooms and shit, caulk some more shit and replace the weatherstripping on the back door) but other than that i am mostly satisfied with that room. i have plates and glasses and cutlery i like and a kitchen table and chairs that could survive a direct hit from a tank. spent a truly ridiculous amount of time and money getting this kitchen, the room i spend the least time in, Just So bc i had such a clear vision in my brain of what i wanted and we are Almost There.

also deep cleaned the kitchen and discovered a slow leak bc that’s just how it goes. conveniently, the shower handle fell the fuck off last night and the bathroom sink stopper has not worked since we moved in (we have been propping it open with a dull paring knife for eight months) so hopefully whoever our landlord sends to fix this will make our house much more functional. even if he refuses to pay for the moth treatment, plumbing shit is a thing that is very clearly his responsibility in our lease. bastard.

[the-atlas-sister]

Since We Were Fourteen Part Two (Conner Kent x Reader)

Two years after your parent's death. You now, a young prodigy, work as an intern for Lex Luthor, your godfather, and current guardian.

Y/n POV

You looked up from your notes as a loud alarm rang through LexCorp. You noticed almost all of the scientists in your sector running through the halls.

"What's going on?" you asked, standing up from your godfather's desk. He had let you stay there to work.

"Something's going on in the cloning lab," one of the workers said, stopping in front of your godfather's office.

Your eyes widened. You had been working in the cloning lab for the past two years of your stay at LexCorp. You ran into the hall and noticed all the workers running towards the decoy lab. That was the lab that Lex set up for show- to stop nosy interviewers and unloyal workers (as he liked to call them).

You spun on your heel and ran towards the elevator. You pressed the down button and rushed in as soon as the door opened. You quickly typed in the code and waited as the box moved. You tapped your foot on the metal floor impatiently.

As soon as the doors opened, you heard yelling and a laser shot the wall next to the elevator.

"Oh shit!" you exclaimed, ducking out of instinct.

"Donivan! Control your creature!" Lex's voice exclaimed, making you look up. You saw Lex on the ground with a boy standing in front of him, his eyes red. Donovan was on the other side of the room, clutching his arm.

"Wait! Wait!" you exclaimed, recognizing the boy as the clone you had met when you first arrived at LexCorp as well as the project you'd been helping with for the past two years.

The boy directed his red eyes at you as you ran in front of Lex. You may hate the guy but honestly... you wanted to be the one to kill him.

"Stop! Stop!" You held out your hand, honestly not knowing how it would help. The boy's glowing eyes faded into a grey color, similar to Lex's. He looked at your hand, then back at your face.

He raised his hand before placing it against yours. (Tarzan who?)

"Um..." you blinked as he seemed to process who you were.

"I know you," he stated, a boyish grin spreading on his face. It looked better than his cold stare from before. "Well, not your name. But your face-" He flew a bit, hovering close to your face. "And your hand!"

"What the hell is this?" Lex exclaimed, standing up. He grabbed your shoulder and pulled you away from the flying boy.

The boy's grin turned into a hard glare towards Lex as his eyes began to glow once more.

"No, Kon," you exclaimed, slipping past Lex and in front of the boy, who you had named Kon.

Kon's eyes stopped glowing as he floated to the ground next to you. "Who's the egg guy?" he whispered in your ear. "And the guy with the glasses?"

"Wait- you don't know?" you asked, taking a step back.

"Why doesn't he know who we are?" Lex snapped, glaring at Donivan.

"He woke up before the transfer was complete," Donivan explained, standing up. "All he knows is that he is Superman."

"And apparently my daughter," Lex added.

Goddaughter, you desperately wanted to correct. "I spoke to him while he was developing," you explained to Lex as Kon was distracted by Donivan. "Maybe we made some kinda connection. Similar to a baby in a womb or childhood friends."

"So now he must be attached," Lex frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not helpful that he has similar hormones of an average teenage boy and your an attractive young girl," he mumbled. You rolled your eyes. "Well, at least he seems to listen to you." Your eyes snapped to Lex as he said that. "Y/N, dear..." he said, giving you a smile similar to the one he'd give you if you disobeyed him. "I need you to teach, the new Superman that he IS Superman.  Guide him in the right direction and teach him that LexCorp is good and everything I say is correct."

You had to resist lashing out at the bald man right then and there.

"Right," you said, pushing down all your hatred and anger.

"Good girl," Lex smirked, ruffling your h/l h/c hair. "Do me proud Y/N."

Find part 1 and 3 on my masterlist https://mooskey.tumblr.com/post/661991989629304832/%F0%9D%9A%83%F0%9D%99%B7%F0%9D%99%B4-%F0%9D%9A%84%F0%9D%99%BB%F0%9D%9A%83%F0%9D%99%B8%F0%9D%99%BC%F0%9D%99%B0%F0%9D%9A%83%F0%9D%99%B4-%F0%9D%99%B2%F0%9D%99%BE%F0%9D%9A%82%F0%9D%99%BC%F0%9D%99%B8%F0%9D%99%B2-%F0%9D%99%BF%F0%9D%99%BE%F0%9D%9A%86%F0%9D%99%B4%F0%9D%9A%81-%F0%9D%99%BC%F0%9D%9A%A2-%F0%9D%99%BC%F0%9D%9A%8A%F0%9D%9A%9C%F0%9D%9A%9D%F0%9D%9A%8E%F0%9D%9A%9B%F0%9D%9A%95%F0%9D%9A%92%F0%9D%9A%9C%F0%9D%9A%9D

[miki-snake]

The haikyuu boys when they’re lonely

✥ Thoughts on how your boyfriend acts or feels, when you and him are apart for a longer time.

➴ post timeskip haikyuu boys x reader

━━━━━━━━━━    ༻✧༺    ━━━━━━━━━━━

✥ Daichi Sawamura

Coming home to an empty apartment was always like a slap in his face. He’d always call out “Tadaima” and expect to hear an “Okaeri” as an answer. When nothing comes to greet him his shoulders slump a bit. He goes on with his chores and everything but he constantly reminds you through texts to take care of yourself. Work keeps him busy but it’s when he drinks his morning coffee that he misses you the most. He’s so used to the taste it has when you make it and is convinced that it doesn’t taste that great if it’s not made by you.

✥ Sugawara Koushi

Watching the kids and the parents picking them up from school reminds him of you and your possible future. When you’re not home though, the thoughts of having a family with you were more apparent in his mind. When you’re gone he looks through everything you normally use and checks if he needs to restock anything, so when you come back everything will be ready for you. He’d tell you over text that he misses you, not whining but just reminders of how much he really loves you.

 ✥ Asahi Azumane

It’s the mornings that he misses you the most. Not waking up with you in his arms (or he in yours bcs he likes being the “little spoon” from time to time) always makes him feel the loneliest. At work he draws some outfits he thinks would look good on you which he always did but during those times he’d do it more often. Develops the habit of spraying a bit of your perfume on the sleeve of his shirt so he can smell “your” scent if he wants to. Nothing is better than your natural scent though. 

✥ Tsukishima Kei

You and him weren’t the typical lovey dovey couple and honestly he couldn’t stand to watch those people being in full on couple mode. So when you’re gone he can’t take it at all, like, the sight was already obnoxious enough but knowing that he couldn’t even be like that if he wanted to because you’re not by his side? Just annoying. When you ask him if he misses you he just scoffs and denies it but he still texts you daily to tell you to “look after yourself, idiot”. He packs his “i miss you” in something like “why did we get a bed that big again”. When he’s sleepy and you two talk over phone his true feelings slip and he starts to blush but you just tell him that you miss him too. 

✥ Bokuto Koutaro

When you’re gone during one of his games he’s especially down because you wouldn’t be there to cheer him on and his team has a hard time cheering him up (the first few times they had to call Akaashi and ask for help. When you’re not home he sleeps on your side of the bed to be enveloped by the smell of yours nearly cries when it fades. If he’s out with his friends he can push back the sad thoughts but in the silence of the night they come back. He has some audios of you talking that he sometimes plays so he can fall asleep. 

✥ Akaashi Keiji

Never forgets to at least text you good morning and goodnight. Sometimes if he’s able to he even squeezes in a good morning call, not because he had to play the alarm for you but because he loves your voice right after you woke up, still tired and confused. He always asks about your day and continues your habit of buying fresh flowers for the living room everyday and sends you an image of the flower of the day. During those times he writes more often on paper and not with his laptop, so he can use the personalized Parker pen you gifted him.

✥ Kuroo Tetsurou

He’d miss your bright smile and sparkling eyes the most and so you and him try to video call each other every night if it’s possible. He asks Kenma, Yaku and his other friends more often to meet up so he wouldn’t feel that alone anymore. He plays it off when you tease him about it but when you tell him that you miss him too, he can’t help the slight sad glint in his eyes and the soft smile forming on his lips. Sends you stupid science jokes which throws you back to your highschool times and the start of you two dating and it never fails to make you smile.

✥ Kenma Kozume

His viewers ask him about his girlfriend and he had to repeatedly tell them that you’re not there with him. So after the streams he’s reminded of your absence the most. He’d get messages from you throughout the day and during those times his responses are a bit longer than usual. He was so used to you cuddling up to him that he misses the warmth next to him. That’s why on one side the blanket is bundled up, mimicking the feeling of someone being next to him with the one side being warmer than his other.

✥ Oikawa Tooru

He misses your gentle voice that would always laugh at his jokes and the teasing between the two of you. He loves to scroll through the pictures of the two of you, reminiscing in the memories you’ve made. Because he feels lonely, he wanted you to also express that you miss him. So he bombards you with photos of him eating, playing volleyball, lying in bed, changing. Also every time you call he whines and asks when you’re coming back and how you could be away that long without him.

✥ Semi Eita

He plays your favorite songs in the background while doing the chores. Most of the time he misses your voice so you can expect many calls or he’ll demand some voice messages. One time you heard how he talked about it to his friends and you surprised him with a recording of you talking about how much you love him and what exactly you love about him. The recording gets played frequently when you’re gone. He also spends more time in the studio, working on songs which you knew so you always text him to remind him to take a break.

✥ Ushijima Wakatoshi

Coming back from practice he misses your soft cuddles and welcome home kisses. You two sometimes try to time your dinner, so you two could video call while eating and talking about your day, well you mostly talk about your day. When you were gone over a Sunday, he’d feel your absence the most. It’s normally the only day in the week he has complete free time and not hearing your laughter echoing through the room and your bright smile in front of him made him feel lonely and he just bluntly tells you that he wants you home soon because he wants to see you. 

✥ Atsumu Miya

He misses your laugh and how you’d laugh full-heartedly at his jokes, even if no one else would. During those times he often goes to “Onigiri Miya”, visiting his brother and talking about how you’re still not home yet. Coming home from practice he always walks past your favorite bakery and sometimes he thinks about getting your favorite cake and snapping a pic to make you “jealous”. At home he mostly sits in the living room, the bedroom making him too lonely without you next to him on the bed.

✥ Osamu Miya

Normally you would go to the restaurant to help him right before closing time so you two can walk back together and when you’re gone he sometimes forgets and still watches the door to see if you're the one who walks through it. 

Always checks up on you if you’ve already eaten and not only junk food but also healthy stuff. Thinks about what to prepare for you on the day you come back and be ready to have a cute little candlelight dinner date at home with homemade cooking that tastes better than in the restaurant.

[headlinerkwan]

something new - [teaser ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹]

pairing: jeon wonwoo x gn!reader

genre: university!au, e2l, academic rivals to lovers, featuring svt as your friend group, angst, fluff, highly suggestive - MDNI!!

summary: you and wonwoo have been rivals since the first day you met, everything he did irritated you to no end, and yet, you couldn't escape him and, at a certain point, maybe you didn't want to. read the full fic here!

warnings: swearing, alcohol, no one knows how to communicate lol, kissing, suggestive

teaser wc: 950

fic wc: 5.5k+

a/n: wonwoo academic rival bc i love him being all nerdy n shit, hopefully i can release the full fic within the next week .ᐟ.ᐟ comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist ᡣ𐭩

lmk what you think!! ฅᨐฅ

You stare down at your paper, illegible and scattered with doodles and a sharp exhale falls from your lips. Tapping your pen against the table, you wonder how the hell you’re going to pass this surprise exam - a surprise for you at least, apparently telling you must have slipped everyone else’s mind. Someone taps your shoulder lightly, bringing you out of your spiral. You turn to meet the eyes of the stranger sat beside you, his jet black hair is pushed roughly out of his face, allowing you to see his soft dark eyes peer down at you. 

You raise a questioning eyebrow at him, clueless as to why he would be trying to get your attention in the middle of an exam. He mouths the word ‘pen’ in response, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his eyes looking at you with pure desperation.  Looking at his desk, you notice the pen next to his hand is broken. You turn away briefly and watch as he lets out a breath of relief and adorns a grateful smile once you appear with a spare pen for him to use. 

It seems like the bell rings almost immediately once you return your focus to your exam paper - shit. Now you’re definitely not passing. The bell sounds vaguely familiar as it continues to ricochet through you, you rack your brain trying to remember where you’ve heard the sound before… oh, it’s your alarm clock. Oh! It’s your alarm clock! 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Your eyes snap open as you sit up in bed to turn off the irritating tune that your clock had been emitting for god knows how long. It was the first day of the semester, of course you had woken up twenty minutes behind schedule after a cliche ‘first-day-of-school’ dream, what else could you expect. 

Arriving at your first class of the day, you find your friend Seungkwan sat strategically in the corner of the semester hall - just far away enough to avoid the risk of being called upon by the professor. You take a seat next to Seungkwan and listen as he begins to rant about his commute. You and Seungkwan have been friends since Freshman year after getting paired up for a group project. Originally, you were fearful that you wouldn’t get along, on the surface you were like chalk and cheese, but you find now that Seungkwan balances you out just right. His bold extrovertism has pushed you to be a little less timid, to actually live and, you like to think that you’ve mellowed him about a bit too.  You wouldn’t mind listening to Seungkwan talk and joke around all day, that’s when he’s happiest so, naturally, you are too. 

Your conversation with Seungkwan comes to stop as both of your attention gets drawn to a loud racket growing a few rows behind you. You follow the noise to find loveable class clowns Soonyoung, Mingyu, and Seokmin. 

“Ah, it's just Soonyoung, so anyways…” Seungkwan turns back to his laptop and continues expressing his somewhat irrational love of drive-thrus . You, however, are still watching your classmates, unable to tear your eyes away from one of them, his dark slightly nerdy features captivating you. 

“Kwan,” you murmur, “Who’s the guy next to Seokmin?”

Seungkwan hums, satisfied, “I was waiting for you to say something, always so nosy.”

You huff gently, knowing well enough that there’s no point in arguing with him, “So?””

“Jeon Wonwoo. Just transferred for his last year I guess.”

“Huh weird, I could've sworn I’ve seen him before.”

Your friend scoffs jokingly,  “In your dreams bro.” 

You sigh again, resting your head on the desk sulkily.  ‘In your dreams’, Seungkwan’s words echo. Wait… Is he… your head whips around to glance at the mysterious man again. No fucking way… Jeon Wonwoo is literally the guy from your dreams. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

If you had known back then how much you would grow to dislike Wonwoo, you never would have commented on his good looks that first day but, you guess you can’t really blame yourself for not knowing how much of a dick he was. Since you had met, you had tried, maybe too hard, to figure out what you had done to make him treat you the way that he did. Over the weeks you have watched him form bonds with everyone in your class - especially your friends, and you saw how his smile fell and laughter stopped as soon as you made your presence known. It was if you had physically attacked him, the way that his eyes immediately dropped to the floor once you came into view. The thing that annoyed you the most about Jeon Wonwoo though, more than the unexplained icing out, was his brain. 

You don’t like to brag but you pride yourself on your intelligence, especially in academia. You had worked had to reach the place you were in now, throwing away your teenage years in favor of ensuring a happy and successful future for yourself. Because of this, you work hard to make sure you’re at the top of the list whenever your exam results are released - improving upon yourself and being the best of the best,  that’s what you strive for. So of course, it came as an infuriating shock when Wonwoo knocked you out of the top spot, that smug look on his face and the glimmer in his eyes as he walked past  you that day was something you couldn’t get out of your head. No matter how hard you tried, day and night, the only thing on your mind was Wonwoo and how to beat him.

[max-is-tired]

Misconceptions: A Show

Pairing: Intrulogical

Characters: Remus Sanders, Logan Sanders, Roman Sanders, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Deceit Sanders.

Words: 3.941

Warnings: sympathetic Deceit & Remus, swearing, some graphic talk bc it’s Remus, screaming in caps

Notes: Finally, I can post this monster of a fic -hey there, @princeyssash, guess who was your secret santa? This fic was honestly so much fun to write, I swear -I loved all of the prompts I had, but this one just called to me,,, I had to,,

Big thanks to @purp-man for betaing this fic for me and listening to my 3am rambles, and shoutout to @afulldeckofaces for helping me flesh out some plot points, like Virgil memeing his way through Roman’s plans. You’re the absolute best <33

Commission me!!  Buy me a coffee!!  My Discord server!!  AO3!!

It was a normal day in the mindscape.

Patton was humming happily in the kitchen, shuffling around with a pep in his step as he mixed the batter for some cookies. In the living room, Logan and Virgil were enjoying each other’s company while doing their own thing, may it be reading or half-slouching on the couch while scrolling aimlessly through Tumblr.

Everything was peaceful.

Until it wasn’t.

“YOU DIRTY LITTLE SEWER RAT GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!!”

Everyone jumped at the sudden shout, Virgil going as far as tumbling off the couch with a startled yelp. From upstairs, Remus’ unmistakable laughter bounced on the walls, followed shortly after by the twin himself bolting down the stairs with a maniacal grin on his face.

“Oh god,” Virgil groaned from the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose, “what the fuck did he do now?”

“Language, kiddo,” Patton called, emerging from the kitchen with a confused frown on his face. 

Turns out, they didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

“REMUS!!” Roman screeched, running down the stairs. He looked thoroughly pissed, eyes flashing dangerously as he glared daggers at his brother.

Virgil took one look at him, blinked, and then promptly broke down cackling.

“Stop laughing, Hot Topic!” Roman exclaimed, cheeks flushing red. Not that his blush was very noticeable, due to the various scribbles and crude drawings covering his face. “Look at what he did to my beautiful face!”

“You just don’t understand real art, brother dearest,” Remus snickered, waving the marker in his hand around.

“Oh, I’ll show you real art,” Roman muttered darkly, unsheathing his sword as he stalked down the last steps of the stairs.

At the sight of the unsheathed sword, Virgil’s eyes widened in alarm, his body tensing slightly as it became clear the situation was starting to escalate. Beside him, Logan looked at the two brothers, sighed in resignation and snapped the book in his hands shut.

“That’s quite enough, you two,” he said, staring the two brothers down with a raised eyebrow.

“Specs, he drew penises on my face! Multiple times!!”

“Which you can easily snap off with a wave of your hand,” Logan pointed out, “I do not believe there is any need for all this screaming, or for weapons to be brought into the picture.”

“Logan, you don’t understand, I gotta fight him now! For my honor!!” Roman exclaimed, waving his arms around -and therefore further proving Logan’s point by almost cutting Deceit’s head off as the side rose up to check what the commotion was about.

“Oi, watch it!” Deceit called out, ducking to avoid another accidental swipe of Roman’s sword, “who are you, Zuko?”

“If Roman’s Zuko then Logan is totally Uncle Iroh,” Virgil added, still lying on the floor.

Logan shrugged. “If we are referring to the first season of Avatar: The Last Airbender then yes, I can see the similarities.”

Roman squinted at them, finally lowering his sword. “There is an insult somewhere in that phrase. I don’t know where, but I know there is.”

“It’s because you’re a dumb-head, bro!” Remus cackled, once again calling the attention to himself.

Roman growled, looking more than ready to stalk through the room and tackle his twin to the ground, but Logan anticipated him before the situation could escalate once again.

“Remus, I believe this is quite enough,” he said, turning towards the aforementioned twin.

“Aw, but Logan, I’m just having some fun!”

Logan simply raised an eyebrow, staring him down.

“Ugh, fiiiine!” Remus finally groaned, throwing the marker somewhere behind himself, “that does not mean I’m happy about it though!”

Then, he sank out.

Peace once again established, Logan hummed and leaned back on the couch, going back to reading his book.

Or at least that was the plan.

“What the fuck just happened?” Virgil asked, staring at him in disbelief.

“Virgil, language!!”

“Sorry Padre, but I gotta agree with Cout Woelaf here,” Roman said, sword laying limp in his grip, “that was nothing less but weird.”

“I honestly do not understand where all of this apparent confusion is coming from,” Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You told Remus to stop!” Roman exclaimed, throwing his arms up, “and he listened to you!!”

“Roman, your sword!” Deceit hissed in frustration, having had to duck for the third time to avoid being cut in tiny scaley pieces. “If you don’t put it down this instant I might just try and stab you with it, do not try me.”

Roman grumbled but complied, making the sword disappear with a wave of his hand. Then, he crossed his arms, looking once again towards the logical side. “My point still stands though. Remus never listens to anyone, like, ever.”

“Yeah, I think I have to agree with them here Lo,” Patton said, still standing under the kitchen’s doorway, “that was a little weird.”

“Well, I do not know what to tell you,” Logan countered, “I asked him to stop, he complied and then sank out -it’s as simple as that.”

“If you say so,” Roman said, squinting at him in suspicion.

From the other side of the room, Deceit gave him A Look, appearing to be torn between amusement and concern. Logan subtly raised an eyebrow in response, making sure the others would not notice their silent exchange.

After all, it wasn’t like he could just tell them the truth, could he?

+++

When Logan finally sank up in his room, sometime later, he was not surprised to see a very familiar side sprawled on his bed, head hanging from the side of the mattress as he threw a tiny dagger up and down in the air.

“Lolo!!” Remus grinned, spotting him, “took you a while, I was starting to get bored!”

“I wanted to finish this novel first,” Logan said, putting the book in question back to its place in his large library, “it was rather interesting.”

“You know what would be interesting?” Remus asked, not looking away from the other as he kept playing with his dagger, “to find out what would happen if this dagger hit me in the eye!! Do you think it would reach all the way to my brain?”

“I suppose it would,” Logan hummed, sitting beside the creative side and quickly catching the dagger out of the air when Remus threw it again, “but between proving that hypothesis and spending the rest of the day with my not-injured husband, I think I prefer the second option more.”

“Oh really?” Remus grinned, sitting up -a slim silver chain fell out of his shirt with the movement, the golden ring hanging from it twinkling in the light of the room. “And tell me, how would you like to spend that time, my dear?”

Logan hummed, the light pressure of his own ring hiding under his shirt bringing a smile to his face. “Oh, I’m sure my dear husband will have some ideas of his own to share.”

“Oh, you are wicked,” Remus said, before leaning in to capture Logan’s lips in a kiss.

+++

For a while, it seemed like whatever had happened in the living room had been forgotten -the others were still confused by how easy it was for Logan to make Remus listen to him, but most of them waved it off as Logic easily overpowering Intrusive Thoughts with rationality and all that shit.

(Deceit knew better than that, but that was mostly because lying to him was next to impossible and Logan had been smart enough to let him in on their secret as soon as it had started to become a serious thing, both to help the couple lie to the other sides and to avoid him finding out on his own and potentially jeopardizing their cover.)

Point is, no one had yet discovered the real reason between the apparent chemistry between the two sides. But that didn’t mean they weren’t starting to notice things.

The first one to start suspecting something was, surprisingly enough, Virgil.

He had been sneaking to the kitchen around 3am, planning to grab a quick snack from the pantry and then tip-toe back to his own room, all the while hoping not to alert anyone of his nighttime escapade -he had already been at the receiving end of several stern talks about his fucked-up sleeping schedule and did not want to have to sit through another one, thank you very much.

What he had not been expecting, was to find himself staring at Logan’s back, the logical side looking busy filling two mugs with steaming water.

Virgil froze on his tracks, eyes wide in alarm as he tried to figure out how to sneak back out of the kitchen and up the stairs without being noticed. Unfortunately, Logan seemed to have other ideas and turned around before the anxious side could make up his mind about the next course of action.

“Uh,” Logan said, blinking in surprise, “hello, Virgil. I have to be honest, I was not expecting to meet anyone at this hour of the night.”

“Likewise, I guess,” Virgil shrugged, giving the other a tiny smile, “why are you up at this hour anyway? Weren’t you the one waxing poetry about the importance of a regular sleep schedule?”

“I got sidetracked, I guess. One late night won’t harm me in any way or form, I assure you.”

Virgil snickered. “I’m telling Patton you said that.”

“I don’t think you will,” Logan countered, calm as ever as he put down the kettle and moved to grab the two cups, “because if you do I will tell Patton about you sneaking into the kitchen at 3am with, as it appears, not a single ounce of sleep in your body.”

“... harsh, L. Real harsh.”

“Just stating facts,” Logan said, before walking out of the kitchen.

Virgil stared after him, watching the logical side leisurely cross the living room and walk up the stairs until he could not see him anymore. Then, he shrugged, quickly walking to the pantry and grabbing the snack he had come for.

He straightened up, holding triumphantly a bag of chips, only to freeze up again when a tiny detail finally struck him.

“Wait, why the fuck did he have two mugs?”, he wondered, turning back to glance at the stairs. Then, he turned towards the kitchen counter, noticing a little bag sitting just to the side of where Logan had been standing just a few seconds before.

“Kuding Tea” read the caption on the front of the bag, the inside filled with slim, dark tea nails.

Virgil frowned, rolling the name around in his head. He was sure he had heard it before, but where?

+++

The second one was Roman.

He had been strolling idly around the Imagination, humming a song under his breath as he walked along a path in the woods. Of course, his guard wasn’t completely down, not now that he was so near Remus’ side of the Imagination -while his relationship with his brother had greatly improved in the last year or so, he was still very much aware of the dangerous creatures lurking in his brother’s domain, and Roman had no desire to be caught by surprise by one of them.

Could you imagine the teasing, if Remus ever were to find out?

So yeah, he was still being very attentive to his surroundings -that’s probably half of the reason why he found himself hesitating when what sounded like distant laughter reached his ears.

Roman stilled, focusing on his surroundings. But all he could hear was silence, and after a few more seconds he was about ready to shrug it off to his imagination.

Then, the same, faint sound echoed from somewhere in the forest.

Curious, Roman started following the sound, watching his steps as his hand moved to hover over the handle of his sword -better be safe than sorry, he figured.

It didn’t take long for him to reach his destination, the forest receding just a few feet in front of him to make room for a vast, lush clearing. What he found, however, was something he could have never fathomed.

In the middle of the clearing, sitting on the grass in front of each other, were Remus and Logan, looking way too engrossed in their own conversation to notice the stunned prince staring at them from just behind a tree.

Remus seemed to be showing Logan something, looking completely enraptured by whatever Logan was saying.

The logical side was talking animatedly, waving his hands around with a grin as he occasionally gestured to something sitting between them. And Remus, well, he was staring at Logan with an expression Roman was pretty sure he’d never seen on his twin’s face.

He was looking at Logan like he was the sole holder of every secret of the universe, like he was everything he could see and hear.

He looked absolutely, utterly smitten, and Roman did not know what to do with that information.

+++

For Patton, well, it was more of a gradual realization.

He may not be the smartest in the group, but he was not by any means an idiot. He had noticed right away the potential chemistry between the two sides, the way Logan never seemed to be fazed by Remus’ shenanigans or the way Remus seemed to enjoy poking fun at the logical side.

Initially, he had not been very thrilled about it. But as time went on and they started to get closer to the dark sides, he could see how those two being friends could be highly beneficial for everyone, Remus and Logan included.

And he thought that was all it was -a blossoming friendship!

But the more time passed, the more Patton started to realize how that wasn’t exactly the case.

He didn’t know what initially tipped him off, really. Maybe it was the shared glances when one of them thought the other wasn’t looking, or the smile both of the sides seemed to fight down when in the presence of the other.

Maybe it was the subtle change in Logan’s demeanor, the way he’d grown calmer, happier, metaphorically softer around the edges ever since he and Remus had started growing closer.

Something was starting to bloom between the two sides, and Patton was not so sure it was a simple, innocent friendship anymore.

+++

Things came to a head one fateful Saturday afternoon, with Logan stuck revising schedules with Thomas and Remus doing who-knows-what in the Imagination.

The other sides were all lounging in the living room, all doing their own thing.

Then, Roman spoke up.

“Do you guys think something’s going on between Remus and Logan?”

Virgil, who was very much not expecting to hear something like that in the foreseeable future, jumped up from where he had been sprawled on the couch, headphones hanging limp from his neck as he stared wide-eyed at the creative side.

“Please tell me you’re not implying what I think you are implying.”

Roman shrugged, looking away as he scratched the base of his neck. “I don’t know what to tell you, Panic! At The Everywhere -I’m just asking.”

“If I have to be completely honest, actually,” piped up Patton from his place on the floor, stopping the episode of Parks & Rec they had been using as a background, “I have noticed some strange things too.”

“Right??” Roman exclaimed, “I saw them in the Imagination, last week, and I swear to god at one point Remus’ expression almost rivaled the way Logan usually looks at a jar of Crofters.”

“Whoa there Princey,” Virgil said, “don’t you think you’re exaggerating a little?”

“I know what I saw, J.D-lightful.”

“And I think Logan could be developing some feelings for Remus, even if he probably hasn’t quite realized it yet,” Patton added.

Virgil went to argue, but suddenly a realization struck him.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered in shock, suddenly looking like he was reevaluating everything he’d ever known.

“What?” Roman asked, confused.

“I caught Logan down in the kitchen, the other day,” Virgil explained, “he was brewing two cups of tea -which I found rather strange, really, but it was something like 3am so I didn’t question it too much. But I saw the name of the tea he brewed, and it felt familiar but I didn’t connect the dots until now.”

“Well?” Roman prompted, “We’re on the edge of our seats here, Marilyn Morose.”

“It was Kuding Tea, aka Remus’ favorite,” Virgil revealed. “He made us brew it all the time, and he was the only one able to drink that stuff because it’s one of the most bitter things you could ever try to swallow.”

Patton hummed, looking deep in thought. “Looks like those two might be closer than we thought.”

Roman grinned, something akin to mischief glinting in his eyes. “How about we help them grow just a little bit closer, uh?”

“We can discuss all of that later, Ro, but first there’s another thing we need to talk about,” Patton said, before turning to look at Virgil with a stern look on his face. “Virgil Sanders, what’s this I hear about you being up at 3am again?”

(Engrossed as they were in the new revelations, none of the sides noticed the tiny smirk stretching on Deceit’s face as he watched the scene unfold. He could have tried to stop them from trying to meddle, sure.

But where would be the fun in that?)

 +++

As it turned out, not a single one of the sides’ plans came even close to its goal.

First came Patton’s idea, which was arguably the most subtle. They set up a family dinner, pestering the two sides until they confirmed their presence at the table. Then, very last minute, everyone gave random excuses as to why they couldn’t come. Everyone was sure it would work, even if they didn’t stick around to find out -knowing Remus’s tendency to make things rather… spicy, they didn’t want to find out what would happen after the two finally confessed their feelings.

However, when, the day after, they asked Logan how the dinner had gone, the logical side simply leveled them with a confused stare.

“Since you all weren’t there we just agreed to bring the food back to our rooms and keep doing our work -I still had some possible scripts to read through so it worked just fine for me.”

So, it looked like plan A had been a failure.

Roman, in all of his finesse and “romantic prowess” (his exact words), decided to put his own plan in action -which consisted of not-so-subtly shoving the two sides in the same room and “accidentally” break the doorknob, effectively trapping them inside.

(“Wow, a true Cupido alright.”

 “Oh, shut up, you Emo Nightmare.”)

However, Roman’s incredible, astonishing, foolproof plan (again, his exact words) did not account for one specific aspect, aka Remus’ tendency of not letting puny, material things like doors keep him trapped.

In less than five minutes, the two sides were free once again, easily sidestepping what little remained of the door with Remus still holding his morning star in his hands.

And just like that, plan B joined its predecessor down the metaphorical toilet.

Last came Virgil’s plan, which was quite different from the other two’s -it was succinct, concise, and the farthest thing from subtle you could ever think of.

“Hey L,” he called one day, not even looking up from his phone, “what if you went and kissed Remus?”

Logan slowly looked up from his book. “... I apologize, what?”

Virgil shrugged, smirking. “Don’t worry, I’m just kidding. Unless…?”

Logan blinked at him, looking thoroughly confused. “Virgil, are you unwell? How many hours of rest did you get last night?”

And that’s how plan C joined its sibling down in the metaphorical sewer.

(“Your plan was a meme??”

“At least I didn’t try to cliché them into a relationship, Princey.”) 

Point is, by the end of the week the three sides had still to come up with a tactic that could actually work. So, they planned another brainstorm question in the living room.

Only, they appeared to have greatly miscalculated Remus and Logan’s whereabouts.

“Alright, you guys want to share with the class what the fuck is going on already?”

The three sides jumped in unison, whipping their heads around to stare at the two sides standing at the bottom of the stairs. Remus was leaning on the railing, looking at them expectantly, while Logan was standing just beside him with his arms crossed in front of his chest, one single eyebrow raised in a silent question.

“Uuuuuh…” Patton spoke up, looking at the other two in search of help, “language?”

“Pat, I think my language is the least of our problems now,” Remus retorted, refusing to drop the subject, “so, who wants to start talking first?”

The three sides, who looked like three deers caught in the headlights, seemed to grow more panicked by the second, searching for a possible explanation and coming up empty-handed.

“We found out you guys have a crush on each other and wanted to help you two get together!” Roman finally blurted.

“Roman!” Virgil growled, turning to glare at the creative side.

“I’m sorry!” Roman squeaked, throwing his arms up in frustration.

“You could have been a little more… tactful about it, kiddo,” Patton said, smiling nervously as they all waited with bated breath what the two’s reactions would be.

Logan and Remus blinked, dumbfounded. Then, they turned to look at each other, before Remus decided that the best course of action was, of course, to break down into hysterical giggles, compete with wheezing and tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

As for Logan, well, he limited himself to chuckling, looking downright amused by the whole situation.

So yeah, not exactly the reactions the others were expecting.

“... what?” Virgil asked, “please tell me I’m not the only confused one right now.”

“Apologies, Virgil,” Logan said, as Remus kept merrily cackling his lungs out on the floor, “we just thought something serious was going on, since you have all been acting strangely during the last week or so. Discovering that the reason behind your strange behavior was that, well, is rather amusing.”

“Wait, is that your way of telling us you actually don’t like Remus?” Roman said.

“Actually, I do like him, in a romantic sense,” Logan chuckled, throwing a fond look at the side wheezing on the ground. “We have been engaged in a romantic relationship for a while now.”

“... I know I probably sound like a broken record but what?”

“He wants to tap this booty, Vee!” Remus cackled, “and I’m 100% down for that!”

“ By the horn of a unicorn, please spare us the details,” Roman muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“So that means you guys are already in a relationship?!” Patton exclaimed, a wide grin on his face as he clapped his hands in obvious delight, “oh my gosh, that’s so cute! I’m so happy for you guys!!”

“I don’t know if I want to be angry because you guys didn’t tell us or because my brother somehow managed to score a boyfriend before me,” Roman grumbled.

Logan and Remus shared a glance at that, mischief twinkling in both of their eyes. Then, once it appeared they were both on the same page, Remus spoke, barely stopping himself from giggling in anticipation.

“Actually we’re married, but go off I guess.”

Silence fell, seconds ticking by as the news started to sink in.

“Now hold on a second you guys aRE WHAT-”

And then, chaos.

[sixtyeightdays]

Apologies don’t change anything

helloo so i did this today bc i probably would’ve procrastinated if i left this for tmr but i really wanted to write this bc i love the idea of it alot so yes here goes (yes i ended up writing half then procrastinating again but its done now so yay)

also the idea of this goes to this post by @flufflepuffle296 

⚠️TW: Mentions of murder

-

Marinette stared blankly at the airport she had just reached. Her class had gone on a trip to New York City, where Lila had oh-so-humbly bragged about all the famous people she knew here.

Lila had gotten Max to tamper with her alarm, setting it to go off a few hours late, at 5.30am instead of the 2am alarm she’d set it to, especially since their flight was at 6 in the morning. 

Marinette had gotten to her hotel room late because everyone hadn’t bothered to get their own luggage to the car, and Marinette was reprimanded for not ‘helping her classmates bring their bags on to the bus’, especially because of Lila’s ‘sprained wrist’. 

She had then been forced to carry all 30 luggages and carry-ons onto the bus by herself. Thankfully, the bus driver, who was staying at the same hotel as them for convenience had noticed her trouble when she’d tripped while carrying Lila’s huge baggage.

Lila had convinced the rest of the class not to bring suitcases that could be wheeled for no good reason, and everyone had brought large duffel bags, apart from Adrien, to which Marinette was very grateful for, even if the blonde boy was still bending to Lila’s whims.

Marinette had never appreciated lifting flour bags in the bakery more.

It had taken over two hours to get al the bags on the bus, especially since her class was stupid enough, or maybe they did it on purpose, and forgot stuff in their room, which they would then come down carrying, and forcing Marinette to unpack all the bags she’d piled on top of one another so they could put their item inside.

Marinette almost screamed when Max came down for the eighth time, carrying a stupid battery that could’ve easily fit into his pocket or Markov’s tail compartment.

Marinette was no exception and her stuff was on the plane, which was now on its way back to Paris-- without her.

She probably would’ve been more mad if she’d hadn’t seen it coming, and prepared a small backpack with her, with her phone, wallet, the binder she used to plan the class trip, a bag of cookies for Tikki, the box of power-up macarons, a jar of sugarcubes for Kaalki, and a spare change of clothes.

Tikki and Kaalki were safely hidden within the pouch Marinette had at her hip, which she was eternally grateful for. The Miracle Box was hidden in Ladybug’s yoyo, which was convenient for the girl so people wouldn’t steal it.

She let out a small groan in frustration until a hand gripped her shoulder. Panicking slightly, Marinette reared back her fist and clocked her attacker in the nose.

He yelped and staggered back as the lady with him looked slightly shocked. The lady faced Marinette, who was still on the defensive, but relaxed slightly when in the scuffle, the man’s badge fell out of his pocket, showing the golden unmistakable symbol of the NYPD.

‘Oh my gods, I am so sorry!’ Marinette helped the man up blushing slightly and panicking because she’d just punched a police officer in the face.

Marinette was very grateful she spoke fluent English.

He just groaned and with the help of Marinette and the lady, he stood up, clutching his bruised nose.

She introduced herself as Nette, because even if he was the police, she didn’t really want to give her name out to someone she punched in the face. You know, so she could run away, maybe Jagged would let her stay at his old apartment in Gotham--

She snapped out of her stupor as the lady tapped her on the shoulder cautiously and introduced herself as Amy Santiago and the man Jake Peralta.

‘What are you doing here, all by yourself? You can’t be more than 16.’

Frowning, Nette evaded the topic slightly and said she was here on a class trip, but she missed her flight back. The police officer looked disapproving until she noticed the binder peeking out of Marinette’s bag.

Her expression gave way to a happy delight as she plucked the binder out of her bag, gushing about how neat it was, how she used the correct fonts to emphasise everything, and she squealed when she saw the itinerary inside of it.

‘I am so sorry for her, she’s a bit of a nerd and she loves binders.’ Jake waved his hand side to side, making a tsk sound. Marinette could tell they were either dating or married, from the way he looked at her.

‘Why don’t you come with us to the police station? It’s about a 5 minute drive away, and we’re heading back anyway. We just had to drop my sister off.’ He explained, and Amy winced at the mentioned of Jake’s sister.

Huh, wonder why.

Marinette, still slightly wary but followed the couple to their car. He was a legitimate officer, and besides it wasn’t like she had anything to lose.

She clambered into the backseat and Tikki nudged her from the purse, a small show of support and a way of saying “i’m here for you”. She pressed her hand against the purse in response, listening to the somehow comforting banter between Jake and Amy.

When they arrived at the precinct, Marinette fidgeted in the lift, slightly nervous. Paris’ police department wasn’t the most friendly, and she was not welcomed there, since apparently Sabrina had complained to her father about Marinette.

When the lift doors opened with a small ding, Marinette clutched the string of her purse tightly, led around by Amy’s comforting hand o her shoulder. As she sat down in the seat Amy asked her to, facing Amy and away from the pigsty that was Jake’s desk holy shit were those rats?

Marinette placed her bag on the ground, making sure to keep it away from Jake’s crumbs.

She looked around her, taking in her surroundings before facing Amy who had a clipboard in hand, ready to write down her statement or Mlle. Bustier’s number she didn’t know.

She looked past Amy and her eyes widened when she noticed a familiar someone in the office behind Amy. She gasped, and somehow he winced totally not hearing it from a bug in Peralta’s desk and looked up.

His eyes widened and he strode out of the office, the door opening with a small bang which made Marinette raise her eyebrow.

Amy looked confused and turned around but shot to her feet when the captain stood behind her. He was not paying attention to his detective at all, staring at Marinette like he was seeing a ghost.

‘Uh, Captain? You look like your favorite detective just died, which he didn’t I’m right here, what’s up with the look?’

He ignored Peralta and started speaking in french, which Mari reciprocated.

‘Marinette? Is that you?’

‘Yep. Your detectives picked me up at the airport when I missed my plane back to Paris.’

‘I’m going to call Kevin.’

He switched back to English, looking to Jake and a rather dumpy looking man. ‘Boyle, do you remember when I told you I shared a croque monsieur with Kevin in France? And I made one for Kevin?’

The dumpy man, Boyle, nodded.

‘Guess who gave me the recipe?’ Raymond Holt smirked, pressing send on his phone. Marinette could make out a ‘Dear Kevin, Marinette is at the precinct. Sincerely, Raymond Holt.’

Dumpy man looked slightly awestruck.

She looked at him and deadpanned. ‘Still type like an old man?’

He smirked back, much to the dumpy man, Jake and Amy’s shock. ‘Still after model boy, Marinette Agreste?’

Marinette winced. ‘Consider me divorced.’

Holt looked slightly concerned. When he had gone to Paris with Kevin maybe a year or so back, the bluenette had blushed over the blonde model Adrien Agreste, her wishing that she’d have a relationship with the boy as successful as Raymond and Kevin’s.

The elevator dinged once more before he could question the girl that was so much like a daughter to him. Marinette noticed that two more people, a woman in all black that had a dagger in her boot and a katana strapped to her leg in a discreet way --badass, she noted-- and a buff man in suspenders that made Marinette want to gouge her eyes out.

Before she could rip into him, she was attacked by a blur of plaid and ginger. It was Kevin! The girl hugged the man fiercely and him likewise.

She socked him in the stomach as soon as he let go. 

‘That’s for not telling me you were leaving Paris.’ She glared at the man as he doubled over.

Badass lady smirked and whispered to Buff Suspenders. ‘I like her.’ Not that Mari couldn’t hear of course.

‘Thank you, Badass Lady.’ The lady in question looked mildly flattered. ‘My name’s Rosa, pinky.’

‘My name’s Nette!’ She chirped, the badass aura lessening slightly. ‘I like your dagger! Can you teach me how to throw one?’

Amy looked rather puzzled. There was no visible weapon on Rosa. ‘What--’

Rosa was staring at the bluenette with shock and newfound respect. Rosa reached into her boot and drew out her dagger, and it glinted in the light.

‘How’d you know it was there?’ The dagger was small enough so that while it fit snugly in her palm, the blade was still long and sharp enough to cause bodily damage. It was small enough so that it couldn’t be seen petruding out from her boot.

Marinette just smiled and shrugged, wiggling her fingers.

‘Magic.’ 

Marinette eyed Rosa’s pant leg that held her katana.

 Rosa looked very impressed by the petite girl.

Suddenly, a groan came from behind them, and whipping around, Marinette could see two men, foodies probably, gorging themselves on Tikki’s cookies.

‘Woah woah woah, my cookies are off limits!’ One of them, the shorter one, scoffed. 

‘Like you can finish this much food anyway.’ Marinette raised an eyebrow and the other man glared at the bluenette, and the two men waddled over to a room. 

Marinette followed and when she entered, she could see different types of chips, cookies, cakes laid out on the table. Jake let out a low whistle.

The two men were already seated there, napkins tied around their necks as a sure sign that they were going to eat.

Mari plopped herself on the chair opposite them and the taller man, looked at Marinette disbelievingly. No way that tiny girl could eat more than him and Hitchcock.

She took it as a silent challenge and waited a few seconds before starting to eat. The squad looked shocked at the fact that not only was the girl not vomiting from eating so fast, she was keeping up with Hitchcock and Scully.

The two had evidently noticed this as well, and shovelled more food in their mouth, causing cream and icing to drip everywhere. Their napkins, clothes and the chair.

But Marinette was still eating calmly, although her jaw was working at a furious pace. However, not one thing spilled anywhere which made Dumpy Man and Buff Suspenders look thankful, muttering something about a Marge.

But by the end of the race, contest, whatever, it was evident that it was a tie. While Hitchcock and Scully had eaten more food, Marinette had not made any messes at all. Plus, Marinette was only one person, while Hitchcock and Scully were two.

Needless to say, by the end of the day everyone had grown fond of the girl who could kick everyone’s asses and still look like a ball of sunshine.

She had ripped into Buff’s stupid suspenders, and he had been insulted until Marinette used the old sewing machine in Holt’s office that he had marched into the break room because he knew firsthand how amazing Marinette was at designing (Kevin had also been on the receiving end of her fashion administrations and it was not pleasant, although the end product was)

She fixed Terry’s suspenders, making the colors match for kwamis’ sake, and he had been very proud and paraded around the whole of the precinct.

Gina, who had just come back from the bathroom where she was totally not watching monkeys walk into an invisible wall had noticed Terry’s new suspenders and walked to the break room, and looking at the bluenette sew, fixing Charles’ tie because “yellow does not go with light orange what the hell were you thinking, dumpy”.

Gina asked Marinette if she wanted to be a fashion designer, because she definitely had the talent, and Mari smiled, saying that she was already one, but she went under an anonymous alias.

‘Ooh, we do love a good mystery. What’s your alias? Maybe I’ll commission a piece from you, I’ve been telling Charles to burn that horrible yellow tie for ages.’

‘My brand’s called MDC.’ 

She said this with the most innocent face she could as everyone around her freaked out that this barely 16 year old girl was one of the most up and rising designers, beating Gabriel Agreste in sales.

Even Jake knew who MDC was, but that was mostly because MDC was Jagged Stone’s personal designer. (He did freak out when Gina told him that MDC designed Jagged’s album covers from Rock Giant onwards)

Gina spent half an hour coaching Marinette on how to strut down the runway “like Catwoman slinking off into the night like the sexy queen she is”. Turns out, Marinette was a natural. (‘You need to work on that blushing though.’)

Eventually night fell and Marinette didn’t have anywhere to stay. Everyone offered their homes, even Rosa. 

She eventually decided to go with Terry because why not, and she also wanted to fix the rest of his suspenders and maybe make him a suit that wouldn’t tear when he moved.

Turns out, Sharon took to Mari immediately, Cagney and Lace even more so. Marinette had loads of experience babysitting, she babysitted terrors on a weekly basis, ahem Manon, Ella, Etta, Chris, and so Cagney and Lacey were bascially nothing.

She loved the two and they loved her too, saying that “Mimi” was definitely the best babysitter they’d had, and Sharon and Terry agreed after seeing how easily the three got along. Marinette knew what made them tick, what made them tired and what made them happy, and nothing got past her.

When Lacey tried to steal cookies, Marinette was there, booping the girl on the nose and handing her one and telling her that she would’ve given them one if they had asked, but since they didn’t, only one cookie for the night.

That had the two of them sharp at attention and they went to sleep without a fuss for once, Sharon and Terry cried at the peaceful silence they hadn’t had in almost a decade.

Rosa taught Marinette to throw knives, which was kind of the same as a yoyo, just with more force necessary and a different angle of throwing. Marinette, using her cool guardian voodoo, summoned an undetectable dagger, that couldn’t be detected by metal detectors.

‘Why do you have this?’

‘...Why not?’

‘...Fair enough.’

Dumpy Man, also known as Charles, had taken to Marinette almost immediately, firstly because of the brilliant croque monsieur, and secondly because of the amazing paella recipe she shared with him.

Nikolaj had declared Marinette his ‘big sister Arin’ after trying one mouth of the paella and saw the girl talk back to his dad. Genevieve loved Marinette, who had made her a new scarf as soon as she noticed the drabby scarf that she was wearing.

Amy loved that Mari could keep up with her puzzles and riddles. The bluenette was amazingly clever and even gave Amy ideas on making a new binder. Jake loved that the girl was the MDC and even more so when he saw how well Amy and Mari got along. 

Jake, Amy, Kevin and Holt got into a fight on who should have custody of Mari while she was here. (She ended up alternating the days she stayed with everyone in the squad.)

Marinette had ended up bonding with Hitchcock and Scully the most, forcing the two to clean their desks, goddamnit, and Hitchcock happened to be a big fan of Clara Nightingale, who was one of Mari’s closest friends and clients. 

The fact that Scully spoke French, Hitchcock loved French pastries and Marinette living in a bakery helped matter loads too.

Eventually, the fact that Marinette was Ladybug became the squad’s most closely guarded secret. She’d gotten caught because Holt was a nosy parent and decided to pry into Marinette’s purse and conveniently found a cookie nibbling Tikki and a haughty looking Kaalki. 

Jake had fangirled big time when Ladybug, looking rather grumpy, swung in and smacked the baddie on the head with her yoyo, hard enough that he’d go unconscious. Turns out, Ladybug was a very popular figure in New York.

After about a week in New York, Mari finally had to leave for Paris again. She was dreading it because of what lies Lila probably spun into making everything Mari’s fault, which made the girl dissolve into a small panic attack, and Rosa, Terry, Kevin, Amy, Jake and Gina wanted to commit cold blooded murder to the people that made this girl as sad as she was when she deserved the whole world. 

Holt was very tempted to let them.

The squad and Kevin took a week of leave and followed Mari back to Paris, escorting her all the way to her classroom. Mr. Damocles had tried to stop them but a glare from Rosa and the sight of Terry’s muscles made him squeak and back away.

They could all hear the false tales pouring out of Lila’s mouth as soon as they reached the outside of the classroom.

‘Mlle. Bustier, surely Marinette will be punished for skiving off school and playing truant?’

They could hear Mlle. Bustier’s voice dripping with disappointment. ‘Rest assured, Lila, she will be punished accordingly.’

This made Amy extremely mad, hearing them talk so crudely about the girl she cared for very much, and she slammed the door open. The class jumped at the sound of the door hitting the wall, and Mlle. Bustier winced when Holt’s deadly glare looked her straight in the face.

It was then that the class noticed Marinette, who was feeling afraid and hiding behind Charles and Jake. 

Max shot up to his feet when his eyes landed on Kevin. That was the Kevin Cozner, one of the most famous and respected teachers known to all of humanity.

Said Kevin had both hands on Marinette’s shoulders, pinning Max with a stare that made the boy’s feet turn stiff and he sat back down.

Murmurs and yells broke out in the classroom and Mlle. Bustier internally sighed at the trouble Marinette was causing. Really, if the girl didn’t skip school and cause a dramatic entrance, she would have been going through the lesson and maybe even getting a promotion, considering Kevin Cozner was here.

She mentally groaned and composed herself, wrenching Marinette out of Kevin’s grip and dragging her to the front of the classroom, where she proceeded to berate the girl loudly for skipping school for a week and causing an unnecessary scene in school.

Instead of looking frustrated or upset and cowing like the teacher though Marinette would be, Marinette only smiled coolly at the teacher. Amy strode forwards, plopping a stack of papers in the hands of the teacher before turning to Marinette and checking her arm, which now had purple bruises standing out in contrast to her pale skin.

Charles looked furious, and when Mlle. Bustier spluttered upon looking at the papers, which in bold, had the words ‘Sued’ on them, he took great pleasure in saying loudly, “You just got served, Caline Bustier.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but then seemed to remember her students’ presences, and those students were currently looking at the exchange between the foreigners and their teacher with rapt attention.

Mlle. Bustier smiled nervously and raised her hands as if to placate the squad and change their minds about suing her.

‘Let’s talk in the corridor. More privacy.’ She explained, striding to the door. She stopped adruptly a dagger was pressed to the teacher’s throat.

She gulped and went slightly crosseyed looking down at the dagger before saying that the children shouldn’t see this and repeating that they should go out in the corridor to talk.

Suddenly, a voice spoke up from the room. It was Sabrina, looking confident and proud and very unlike the meek and timid student who constantly answered to Chloe’s every whim.

‘You didn’t give Marinette that liberty.’

Chloe didn’t look surprised when Sabrina stood up, looking up at the girl proudly. She then stood up and put in a word.

‘You just dragged Marinette to the front of the classroom and tried to scold her when you were the one who listened to Lie-la and didn’t bother to do a headcount before leaving the hotel, hell, before boarding the plane.’

‘You left her in New York City,’ chimed Sabrina, leering at the teacher, who shrunk back into herself.

‘Who do you think paid for her ticket back?’ Chloe smirked.

‘Goodbye, Caline Bustier.’ They spoke in unison.

Mlle. Bustier paled. Gina looked like she wanted to run away with Chloe and Sabrina, and Marinette looked to the two gratefully, the former giving the girl a nod while the other smiled broadly.

Amy spoke again, grinning manically at the redheaded teacher, reciting everything that she’d done wrong in her years as a teacher, whether it be when she was teaching old students from almost a decade ago, or now, when she was teaching Marinette’s class.

“Yes, Rosa, I learnt French specifically for this. I took a seminar, called The French Way to Reprimand A Crap-sack.”

Mlle. Bustier dug herself an even deeper hole as she frantically tried to pile the blame on Marinette, who was pressing the bruises on her arm with morbid fascination.

Gina leaned towards Caline, her breath hot against the teacher’s ear as she drawled in a rather threatening voice. “I know every little secret you have. It’d be best if you’d just mosey on out.”

Bustier shook her head even more, doubting Gina, who took great pleasure in calling out Mlle. Bustier’s shortcomings and dirty little secrets that she’d tried so desperately to bury.

“Caline Bustier. You had a student named Bridgette Jaeng a few years back. She died. Her death was written off as a accident, when that really wasn’t the case, was it.”

Her voice, although rather soft, echoed loudly in the room, ringing in the ears of Marinette’s classmates who turned to look at their teacher with horrified expressions on their faces.

“No! She--” Gina continued as if Mlle. Bustier hadn’t said anything at all.

“She fell down the stairs.” Gina made air quotes when she said fell. “She was pushed down the stairs by her bullies. She broke her neck on impact, and Bustier?” She laughed wryly.

“She saw the whole thing, but didn’t do anything to stop her students. She even went so far as to turn the security cameras off.” 

Caline was growing increasingly pale but didn’t say anything for fear of making it worse.

“You bribed the principal of this school to hire you.” Gina’s voice, quiet and deadly cut through the tension in the room, and as if a dam broke, all hell broke loose and chaos was ensued.

Gina spoke up again, effectively making the class quiet down.

“You told Marinette to be the ‘best Marinette she could be’. You told her to not do anything when Lila and he posse bullied her. You turned off the cameras again when Lila walked down the stairs and sat there, bawling and lying about how Marinette pushed her down the stairs.” Gina’s voice came out in a hiss.

“You didn’t tell them how Marinette was expelled, huh. It was because Lila framed her for stealing a necklace that was found in her locker. But none of the students here are allowed to use locks for some stupid reason.’

The evidence was overwhelming. The contrast of the yelling from minutes ago was now replaced with a deadly silence as they mulled over Gina’s words.

Officer Raincomprix had shown up and arrested Caline a few minutes later, courtesy of Sabrina. 

As Caline Bustier was dragged out of the room, she yelled on last time. “What gives you the right to arrest me? I was only looking out for my students!”

Holt smirked smugly, and everyone in the squad, bar Gina and Kevin, held up their badges, with the very unmistakable logo of the NYPD. 

Caline was forcefully dragged away, shocked. And as she sat in the solitary confinement of her prison cell almost a month later, thinking about what she’d done, there was a knock on the door. The one person Caline thought she’d never see again stood in the doorway, the bars being the only separator between the ex teacher and her ex student.

Caline didn’t trust herself to speak, only staring at the girl. 

Marinette stood there, patiently waiting for her to speak.

When she did, the only thing that came out of her mouth was, “I’m sorry.”

Marinette smiled. Not a pitying one, not a smug one, no. It was a sad smile.

“Apologies don’t change anything.” Marinette told her old teacher. “I can’t speak for Bridgette, but for what it’s worth, I forgive you.”

- 

4.2k words

well yes. feedback and thoughts appreciated

i didnt reread this bc i dont like reading my own works they make me cringe so if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes im sorry oops

Asks are Open!

[mandelene]

Arthur is the one who gets sick and the rest of the FACE family freak out? Whether he’s seriously ill or not is up to you. Bonus if he adamantly denies that he’s sick bc I need a character to project onto 🤣. Have a good week! 💕

Here it is! And I hope you have a wonderful week as well! 💖

Why One Shouldn’t Marry a Stubborn Englishman: A Case Study Word Count: 1424

Although Arthur barely touches his dinner on a Friday evening in mid-October, Francis doesn’t immediately see a reason to worry. His husband’s appetite is finicky at best, and there are days when he is simply too caught up in his own mind to remember to eat. It’s relatively normal behavior, and sometimes, if he pushes around his dinner, he compensates by having a large breakfast the following day. 

But then Saturday morning comes and he doesn’t finish his eggs and toast either. Arthur flips through his weekly edition of The Economist, and pretends not to see the look of disapproval on Francis’s face. And that’s when the worry in Francis’s heart begins to set in. 

He doesn’t even take a sip of tea. It’s tea! Arthur can’t live without his tea. Tea runs through the man’s veins! 

“Is something wrong? You haven’t been eating or drinking anything,” Francis points out, and Alfred and Matthew, who are also seated at the kitchen table, stop talking about their English project and shift their attention to a now flustered Arthur. 

“I’m fine. Not hungry,” Arthur replies shortly, looking down at his magazine and away from them. 

Alfred gives his father a little nudge on the shoulder and adds, “You’ve been acting kinda weird. Are you sick?” 

“You do look a little pale, mon amour.”

“I didn’t know it was a crime to not be hungry,” Arthur snaps, rising from the table. He snatches his magazine and swivels around to leave the kitchen, but that’s when a quiet gasp suddenly escapes him, and he grabs his upper abdomen with one hand. His face betrays a pained grimace, and the hand holding The Economist tightens into a fist. 

The scene triggers alarm bells in Francis’s mind. He sweeps over to Arthur and tries to feel his forehead, but Arthur waves him off and pulls away, insisting that he’s fine and “it’s just indigestion.” 

No one is convinced he’s all right, but Arthur’s stubbornness knows no bounds, and confronting him whenever anything is wrong with him, no matter how big or small, always proves to be a challenge. Matthew offers to get him an antacid from the medicine cabinet, but Arthur rejects that offer and chooses to hide away in his and Francis’s bedroom instead to brood. 

“That definitely didn’t look like indigestion,” Matthew whispers once he’s out of earshot. 

“I know. I’m going to have to fight him for a real answer, as usual,” Francis sighs as he’s picking up Arthur’s plate and bringing it over to the bin. He doesn’t like being wasteful, but if Arthur truly is sick, then it’s best to toss his breakfast away. There’s no chance he’s going to eat it later, and he could be contagious. “Don’t worry, boys, I’ll talk to him. He needs a little coaxing sometimes. He can be childish and moody when he’s unwell.” 

“Doctors make the worst patients,” Alfred notes.

“You could say that again, mon lapin.”

----------------------- 

The denial continues for the rest of the day. When Francis tries to pester Arthur into having something for lunch and suggests some soup or saltines, he is met with hostility yet again. “I’ve already said I’m not bloody hungry.” 

And then, the vomiting begins. While they’re all watching a movie in the living room later that afternoon, Arthur abruptly hurries to the bathroom, holding his stomach once more. Francis trails after him, and Alfred and Matthew come along to watch the drama unfold as well, equally as concerned. 

“Oh, mon cher,” Francis murmurs while Arthur retches, rubbing his husband’s back. With his other hand, he finally feels his forehead and is not at all shocked at the warmth he feels under his fingers. “You’ve caught some sort of stomach bug, haven’t you?”

When Arthur is done and has flushed the toilet, he turns to the sink and rinses his mouth. Clearly, he’s too exhausted and miserable now to be in a position to argue because when Francis takes him by the arm and guides him to bed, he follows him without complaint.

“I’ll bring some sparkling water. It always helps me when I feel nauseous,” Matthew offers, and Francis gives him an appreciative nod. 

“You always tell us ‘rest and fluids’ are the most important things when you’re sick,” Alfred reminds his father, but Arthur merely lets out a small groan as he lies down. 

If this is a stomach bug, then it must be severe because Francis can tell by the expression on Arthur’s face that he’s in a great deal of pain—more pain than one would be in from a simple stomach flu or food poisoning. His right hand is wrapped around his upper abdomen yet again, and his eyes are screwed shut. There are beads of sweat on his brow, and when Francis gently pulls Arthur’s hand away to touch his stomach, Arthur lets out a sharp cry that makes him jump. 

Francis doesn’t think he’s ever seen him in this much agony. Even while ill, Arthur hardly ever lets on how poorly he’s feeling. For him to be in such a state…It’s frightening. 

“He doesn’t look good, Papa,” Alfred says, biting his lip. 

“No, he doesn’t…I think I should take him to the emergency room.” 

At that, Arthur opens his glassy green eyes and grumbles through gritted teeth, “No.” 

“I can’t look at you when you’re like this. You need a doctor, mon amour.” 

“…Don’t need a damned doctor…”  

“Arthur. Be reasonable.” 

Matthew returns with the promised glass of sparkling water, and hands it to Arthur. 

It appears the idea of consuming any liquid makes Arthur turn green with nausea, and he places the glass on the bedside table with another groan.  

“Boys, can you grab one of your father’s coats and a pair of his shoes? I need to get him dressed—I’m taking him to the hospital.”

Arthur shoots him a fierce scowl. “Absolutely not.”  

“I’ve been your husband long enough to know when something warrants a hospital visit. Can you stand?” 

“Of course I can stand, I’m not—”

But when he gets up, the pain flares, and he nearly doubles over. All of the color drains from his face, and Francis has him sit down on the edge of the bed. 

“Okay, okay. That’s enough. The boys and I will help you to the car. Do you want some ibuprofen or something before we go?” 

“No…” 

He should have seen that response coming. 

--------------------------------------------

It was the right call to bring him in—that’s what Arthur’s nurse in the ER tells Francis and the boys. 

Apparently, the silly oaf is severely dehydrated, so he is quickly started on IV fluids and strong painkillers. It’s assumed he could have appendicitis and that the pain just hasn’t localized to the lower right side of his abdomen yet. But then, a CT scan reveals that his appendix is fine. His pancreas, however, is not. 

Acute pancreatitis. That’s the verdict. The doctor says it was likely caused by the medication he’s been taking for his arthritis—azathioprine. The diagnosis is enough to have him admitted because it’s decided he will have to be on a course of IV antibiotics to clear up the infection. 

“Honestly, only you could have an infected pancreas and claim it was indigestion,” Francis chides him, but he can’t be too angry when he knows Arthur must be feeling awful enough as is. “Fortunately, you should feel all better in a few days, you big idiot.” 

Alfred doesn’t hesitate to scold him as well. “You can’t make us worry like that, Dad. You should have said something sooner.”

“Yeah, no one should have to suffer in silence until they get so sick that they can’t move,” Matthew says, holding Arthur’s left hand, which is where his IV is. “It sounds like it could have gotten a lot worse if left untreated.”

“I thought I had it under control,” is Arthur’s lame defense. 

“Well, hopefully, you’ll think twice next time and ask someone for help. Now get well soon, all right? You know how much I dislike hospitals.” 

“Thank you for putting up with me.” 

Francis smiles and kisses his nose, causing Arthur to wrinkle his face. “Anytime, mon amour. Anytime…I love you. Now, rest. You need it. We’ll be here when you wake up.” 

Given that he’s already been sapped of most of his energy, falling asleep proves to be an easy task for him, and he’s out in no time.

What a troublesome man. 

[strawnarrries]

Player - Part 3

Summary: Y/N can’t resist Niall no matter how hard she tries.

Warning(s): smut city and includes oral sex!

POV: 1st

This was NOT written by me! It was written the insanely talented Anonymous! She did the pleasure of writing a part 3 to this and honestly its better than I could’ve ever done so please please show some love to anon bc this is one of the best frat smuts I’ve ever read!!! 

Part 1    Part 2

Just over a month. That’s how long it had been since Niall last used me up like he owned me, since Niall last spoke a word to me. 33 days, to be exact, but who’s counting?

I had decided, after the second time sucking his cock and letting him ruin me, that I absolutely was not going back to him. He gave me the best orgasms I’ve ever had, and to be honest, I loved being used up by him, loved worshiping him. But only in the moment. Afterward, I just felt like shit. Both times.

I’m not sure what I expected after the first encounter. I knew his reputation beforehand. But I believed he must have a heart, that he would at least talk to me after fucking my brains out. So when he completely cut me out, I had to understand why, had to get an answer.

What I got instead was another mouthful of his cock - not that I was complaining at the time.

So when he dropped me off after our second fuck, without so much as a kiss goodbye, and instead a crude comment - “Try to think about something other than my cock” - followed by a typical cocky smirk, I decided there was no way I was going back to him again. If he decided to ignore me like last time, then so be it. I would resist all temptations, no matter how unrelenting, and I would move on with my life.

So that’s how I’ve made it 33 days. A torturous, agonizing month, but at least I was building back my pride.

I know for a fact that pretty much every girl Niall fucks ends up begging him for more. I’ve heard from plenty of girls who can’t seem to shake him from their mind. He gives them the best sex of their life, but then he leaves them in the middle of the ocean without a lifeline in site. It’s not like I felt superior to the other girls in any way; I mean, I was just as hooked as they were; but I did take at least some pride in the fact that I was not feeding his ego.

It was hard, mind you. I saw him on campus a few times per week, and every time, my mind instantly started racing, my face heated up, and my body began to remember what he can do. Now and then, he’d catch me looking, and he’d give a knowing smirk, but he easily resisted approaching me. I was just another conquest, after all, and there were plenty more to come in the parade of women in and out of his bedroom.

No one could make a girl feel like he could, and he knew it. He had nothing to worry about, no one to be jealous of, which made these games easy for him. I was pretty sure that if I crawled back to him, he’d fuck me again. But no way was he was going to come to me.

So, as difficult as it was, I was successful in avoiding him. I sometimes got wet just seeing him in a tank top or flirting shamelessly with some girl; I masturbated to thoughts of him many times; I even stalked his social media in my weakest moments, but I never gave in. I refused to give in.

****

On A Sunday during spring semester, I was sitting in a comfy chair in one of the little study nooks that are dispersed throughout the college. I enjoy sitting here, as it’s usually pretty quiet and I can concentrate on studying. I had my headphones in and was focused on a video that I was taking notes from.

I dropped my pen, as I’m prone to do, and it fell on the ground in the space between the two chairs and the window behind. I stood up and then bent over the arms of the chairs, trying to reach down for the writing utensil.

I then felt something alarming, but familiar. It was very apparent that a crotch was now pushed up against my ass, but the owner of the crotch was uncertain. I most certainly did not have a boyfriend, as I had yet to meet a guy since Niall who could give me even half the physical pleasure Niall could. I had a few girl friends who might joke around like this, but, as evidenced by the prominent bulge I was feeling against my butt, this was no girl.

“Damn, I almost forgot how nice this ass was. Loved watching it move while I fucked ya from behind those times.”

The culprit was now unmistakable.

“What the hell are you doing Niall?” I snapped, turning around to face him. 

I was quickly overwhelmed with his presence. He was right in my face, and I could feel the heat of his body. He was in a tank top and his biceps were bulging, and his smirk was as bright as ever. It was clear that he instantly recognized his position of power. He was well aware that he could have me in the palm of his hand if he wanted.

“What’s the problem y/n? You weren’t so shy when you were moaning my name a couple weeks ago,” Niall said, his hand resting on my hip.

I was already struggling to speak. I was trying not to make eye contact, but that meant I had to look down, and what I saw when I looked down was Niall in some workout shorts with a very noticeable bulge in the front. I held back a whimper. Honestly, it was something of a heroic act for me to not give into him that second.

“A couple weeks?” I said annoyed. “We haven’t talked in over a month Niall.”

“Oh, is that right? I guess it kind of blends together for me. I don’t always remember which girl was when, although you do stand out, y/n,” he said with that smirk plastered on his face, “And I see you’ve been thinking about me, since you know exactly how long it’s been.”

“Oh please, just because I have simple memory capabilities doesn’t me I actually care what happened between us. It meant nothing,” I said, not certain if I was convincing him or myself.

“Tell me, though,” Niall said, as he brought his body even closer to mine, now pressing against me, “What do you remember?”

He moved his free hand into my hair, and leaned down, kissing under my ear, “Do you remember my dorm room, taking it on my bed, feeling me in you for the first time? Do you remember the back of my car, moaning my name and steaming up my windows?”

The hand that was on my hip has now snaked its way under the waistband of my panties, and he’s moving it very slowly toward my sex.

“Do you remember my cock, y/n? Do you remember it filling up your mouth? Do you remember it in your throat?” he asked, making sure to kiss my throat right at that moment, “Do you remember gagging on it? Choking on it? Remember how big it is?"

I let out the smallest gasp and Niall smiled against my skin, as he continued kissing and dirty talking. His lower hand then finally reached my sex, and he felt the wetness instantly. I had no way to lie; the evidence was right there; he had me yet again.

"Oh, my, y/n, in the middle of the science building, and here you are all wet for me. Wow. You must’ve been thinking about this non-stop for … a month did you say? Musta been tough. Well let me make it a little easier for you tonight, huh?”

A finger entered me and then a second. He continued leaving light kisses on me, as his fingers moved expertly, in and out. His bulge was pressed up against my thigh. My limbs were loose at my side. I had no control; all I could do was take his assault of pleasure.

“Say thank you,” Niall goaded, continuing his actions but now staring into my eyes.

All I could muster was a few heavy breaths until finally I whimpered, “Thank you, Niall.”

He pulled his hand out and stepped away in one motion. He said, “You’re welcome” and then stuck his wet fingers in front of my mouth. I opened in a haze, and he chuckled as he pushed my own wetness into my mouth. I sucked them clean. Niall smiled big and said, “Should be easier now to get to your orgasm tonight,” then winked and turned around.

And all I could do was stare at that perfect body - his muscular back, broad shoulders, firm butt - as he walked away.

****

Another two days passed, and I heard nothing from Niall. After all those days avoiding him, trying to get him out of my head, he swooped in, teased me to the brink of orgasm, and then just left me high and dry. He clearly refused to even entertain the notion of committing to any kind of relationship with me, and yet he still couldn’t just let me be at peace. It’s like he wants me to suffer.

I tried to return to my previous strategy, avoiding him at all costs, erasing the idea of “us” from my head. But it wasn’t the thoughts of a relationship that I struggled with; it was the thoughts of lust. The way he pushed me to a near orgasm in about 30 seconds in the middle of a school hallway reminded me of the intense pleasure I felt the two times he fucked me.

The last two nights, while in my bed, my attempts to resist thinking about him were embarrassingly short. As I closed my eyes, my brain immediately focused on him. I remembered his touch, his cocky demeanor, his bright eyes, his smirk, his kiss. And then I remembered his cock, the weight of it, the way it filled my throat. I remembered the boastful look on his face every time I peered up at him while he used my mouth. I remembered the sweat that gathered on his built chest as he fucked into me.

As the thoughts raced through my head, my hand made its way back into my panties, and I quickly found myself hitting my high, quietly moaning his name. And both nights, after the climax, an immediate shame washed over me.

How easily he had taken ownership of me again.

On the third day, I had decided that it must stop. I would return to my life, one that does not involve an arrogant asshole like Niall. He could continue his fuckboy destiny, while I would move on to better things. One setback would not be enough to deter me. 

I was mostly successful. Thankfully I didn’t see him around campus that day. Seeing a couple kissing in the hallway or a particularly fit boy in workout clothes triggered an unwelcome thought, now and then, but I would quickly bury it in the back of my mind.

That night, I was feeling good. I had decided I was going to stay up and watch some shows, until I was so tired that I would fall asleep without even thinking. That was the best way to avoid those late night thoughts of the boy I refused to acknowledge. It was 10:30 p.m. and I was into the third episode of one of my go-to lighthearted sitcoms when my phone buzzed. I figured it was one of my friends, asking about plans for tomorrow, so I unlocked the phone while keeping my eyes on the show. I brought the phone to my face, and I almost choked. It had opened to a text message. A text message from Niall. It wasn’t just words; there was a photo, too.

What appeared in front of my eyes was a shirtless and pant less Niall, sitting up in bed. His skin was tanned and so smooth, except around his chest, where the hair was matted down. I could see every defined muscle – the biceps, the chest, abs, shoulders, thighs. And then my eyes were led to his crotch. He was wearing white boxers briefs that might’ve been too small for him, as his cock could clearly be seen bulging through. One of his hands rested right by the bulge, emphasizing it.

The caption wrote: “Figured ya were thinkin about this, so thought I’d just give ya a real picture to replace the mental one. I haven’t fucked since yesterday, so it’s even more ready to go than usual.”

I was appalled by his action, by his lack of manners and by the fact that he readily admitted he’s fucking a different girl almost every day. Does he really think admitting he’s a man whore makes him more appealing? Unfortunately, though, he’s probably right.

Disgusted as I might have been, I was also instantly hot. Seeing him in this primal form is just too much to handle. His aura reeks of sex, and no matter how much I hate him as a person, he’s the best sex I’ve ever had, and I doubt I’ll ever meet another person who can make me feel what he can. He’s perfection in my eyes, and in moments like this, I live to worship him. My mind goes in a thousand directions, all of them leading to his cock. My fingers are already rubbing my clit, and I’m well on my way to an orgasm.

Another text comes in: “Say thank you.” And as I hit my high seconds later, it comes out as the most pathetic of whimpers: “Thank you, Niall.”

****

Another three days and nothing from Niall. But it’s not like he needs to do anything. He’s already living rent free in my mind. I had decided to let him overwhelm me, because after that photo came in, I had no power to resist. I was not even close to deleting it, instead staring at it, drooling over it, each night I went to bed. I wanted his cock more than anything else in the world. But with some kind of false belief that I still had my dignity, I refused to reach out to him, refused to beg him for sex, like I’m sure so many girls have done before. Instead, I let my thoughts and that photo take care of my desire for him. I would eventually delete the photo, go back to my plan of moving on with life. I just needed a few days of quietly obsessing over him, and then I could work on pushing him out again.

It was a Saturday morning, and I headed to the gym. One way I was trying to maintain my sanity, besides spending a lot of time with friends and studying, was to keep fit. I wasn’t about to be in magazines, but I could be healthy, and I was at least pretty enough for Niall to fuck twice and continue to torture, so I guess that’s pretty good.

I set myself up on the treadmill, where I spent most of my time while in the gym, and I started jogging. I did my best to focus on the workout, drowning out unwanted thoughts with music from my earbuds. I was moving along well, increasing speed, when I made the unfortunate decision to open my eyes.

There are a number of mirrors lining the wall, about 10 feet in front of the treadmills, and in them I could see most of the rest of the gym. And in one mirror, I could see the weight lifting station, and there was Niall. He wore a blue tank top with a gold chain and those same tight workout shorts I saw him in a few days ago. He was lifting what appeared to be a lot of weight, at least to me. And he was making it look easy. His biceps moved with every motion, and my core throbbed instantly. He was just so hot.

After several seconds of my eyes fixated on him through the mirror, he apparently felt the gaze and looked toward the same mirror. We made eye contact through the reflection, and he smirked. I almost tripped but regained my composure and looked straight ahead.

I was completely unable to stay focused. I continually stole glances toward him, as he continued to do more weight training, and he caught me looking multiple times. He even licked his lips on one occasion, which did nothing to help the dampening feeling in my underwear. He hadn’t even approached me yet, and yet he already knew he had me.

After about 15 minutes, I heard his voice behind me, “Hey Y/N, is there something over by the weights I can get ya? I noticed you kept lookin over there.”

I put my feet on either side of the treadmill, pulled my earbuds out and looked his way. Breathing heavily, I said, “Uh, no. I, uh, was just looking around I guess.”

Niall smiled, “Oh, I see. Well do ya wanna turn that machine off? Seems like ya could use a breather.”

I froze for a couple seconds, before listening to him and powering down the treadmill, turning around to look at him, no words forming. At that moment, the only other person in the gym went out the door, and a smirk appeared on Niall’s face.

“Why don’t you come sit?” Niall said, patting his hand on a nearby bench press seat. 

It was phrased as a question, but it was unquestionably a command. He was testing how obedient I would be. I did as he asked, and sat at the edge of the seat. I was feeling vulnerable and powerless, but mostly just aroused.

Niall knelt down on his feet in front of me, staring into my eyes with a mischievous smile on his face. After a few seconds, he grabbed one of my feet, and took off the running shoe and then the sock. He did the same with the other foot. He then started massaging one foot with both hands.

“I saw ya workin hard there, y/n. Tryin to get yourself lookin good?” Niall asked, still rubbing my foot.

“Uh, I guess, yeah,” I meekly responded.

“Hmmm.. who are ya tryin to look good for?”

“I don’t know. I..”

“I think it might be me,” Niall interrupted with an almost aggressive smirk, “Or maybe you’re just tryna distract yourself so you don’t haveta think about me?”

I was speechless. He chuckled, switching to rubbing my other foot and asking, “Did ya like the picture I sent ya the other night? Bet ya didn’t delete it, did ya?”

I was still unable to speak, so I just shook my head, and his smile grew bigger.

“Mmm, good,” Niall said, dropping my foot down and standing up straight, the bulge in his shorts about a foot away from my face, “Why don’t you take those shorts off, y/n? Think ya need to cool off a little.”

I hesitated, but not for long, and I slowly pulled down my running shorts, leaving just my panties, which were obviously wet.

“Why are you soaked?” Niall asked abruptly.

“Answer.”

“You,” was all I could manage to get out.

“Of course,” he chuckled, “I guess you weren’t just ‘lookin around’ earlier, huh? You musta liked watchin me work out. Go ahead and take your tank top off now.”

It was actually just a sports bra, but it’s not like Niall was going to care, so I just ignored that and obeyed the command. It was a little tough, having worked up a sweat, but I managed to pull the layer of clothing over my head, leaving my breasts exposed.

“Very good,” Niall smiled, “You listen very well, y/n.”

He then pulled off his own shorts, leaving his socks and shoes on. He was in white underwear again, but this time spandex, which he probably wore for working out. The outline of his cock was so prominent, he might as well have had nothing on. He then peeled off his tank top, leaving only his chain dangling on his hairy chest. His body was glistening.

“Lay back,” Niall said, as he moved forward.

I obeyed. I would do anything he told me to do right now. My head was now rested just short of the bench press par, with my butt still on the edge of the seat. Niall positioned himself above my crotch, one leg on each side of the bench press seat. When I moved my head up a bit to look forward, all I saw was his crotch and the straining bulge in the front of his spandex. I was overwhelmed at this point.

“Want me to make ya feel good, y/n?” he asked, talking to me like I was a child, “Want me to make ya cum?”

I nodded, breathing ragged. He smirked and then lowered himself down, his bulge pressing against my heat. He then leaned his torso forward and put his arms on either side of my head. And he started rocking his hips. The feeling was indescribable. I remembered just how big he is, as his cock pressed against my folds over and over again. I was sopping in my panties, making his underwear wet, too, and his thrusts started making wet noises.

“How does this cock feel, y/n?” he asked.

“So good,” I whimpered, “It’s so big, Niall.”

He chuckled, looking into my eyes, still thrusting, “I know that y/n. You know how many girls have told me how big I am, how I’m the best they’ve ever had. Is it true, y/n? Am I the best?”

“You’re the best, Niall,” I blurted out, “God, you’re incredible.”

“Yeah? Do you think about me when you’re alone at night?”

“Yes, Niall.”

“What do you think about?”

“Your cock, Niall.”

He smiled a huge smile, “Cum in your panties, y/n” he said, as his thrusts got even more forceful. It felt like his cock was actually railing inside me now. 

“Cum jus like ya do when ya think about me in yer little bed at night, pretending like ya hate me, but never gettin me out of yer head.”

“Ohh, Niall,” I panted.

“That’s right, y/n. This is the real thing. Ya got my cock rubbin up against yer pussy. Ya feel that? Ya feel how big it is? Feel how good I fuck ya?’

“Yes, Niall, yes,” I shouted. 

My orgasm came in, and as I hit my climax, there was no stopping my real thoughts from coming out in a flurry of moans and pants, “No one can make me feel like you can. You’re the best. I think about your cock all the time.”

Niall was beaming at this point, staring down at me. He was so masculine, his chest sweating and his biceps flexing as he held himself up above me. His gold chain was bouncing against his chest, as he thrusted hard and fast. The sight was enough to just about kill me, and my final high hit like a ton of bricks. I screamed out his name.

As I came down, Niall stood up and got out of his underwear. His cock jumping out, smacking against his abs and resting in place. He now only had his chain and his shoes and socks on, and as I looked up, I could’ve sworn he was a fitness model. His broad shoulders lead down to a skinny waist. His muscles were so defined all over.

“Now ya have some work to do,” Niall said, as he repositioned himself over me on the bench press. 

This time though, he moved up, so he was sitting on my chest, above my breasts. His cock was is my face. He reached behind my head and grabbed my hair. Pulling my head up a bit, he made a ponytail from my hair. He then grabbed his cock with his other hand. He had to stand up a bit and move back, because his cock was too long, and he needed to adjust to get it in front of my mouth.

“Open up,” he said.

I was totally fucked out at this point, and would only be able to respond to simple commands. I opened wide, and he slowly pushed in. After a few inches, my mouth felt full, but he wasn’t even halfway. He continued to slowly push in, reaching my throat, and pushing down it.

“Oh, that feels good, y/n,” Niall said, tilting his head up and closing his eyes, as he continued pushing in. 

I was gagging a bit, but he continued pushing in further, “Don’t worry. Your throat will get used to it. They always do.”

I couldn’t even think about the arrogance of what he just said, because I was too entranced, too overcome by him. I belonged to him. After pushing all the way in, my nose now in his sweaty pubes, Niall finally pulled all the way out. He looked down, smiling, and used his thumb to wipe the tears that were coming out of my eyes.

“Do ya like sucking on me cock, y/n?” he asked, started to jerk himself off.

I nodded.

“Say it. Tell me how ya feel,” he commanded.

“I.. I love..,” I started, taking a badly needed breath, “I love how big it feels in my mouth … (deep breath) and how it stretches my throat … (deep breath) and I love looking up and seeing you above me.”

Niall put on a more gentle smile. “Good girl,” he said, as he softly caressed my cheek. 

He then stood up, his cock bouncing above me. “Lay your head down,” he ordered. I did as I was told.

“Open up.” I listened again, and Niall knelt a bit, grabbing the back of my head with one hand and directing his cock back into my mouth with the other. 

He then started thrusting his hips. He couldn’t even fit his whole cock with each thrust, hitting the back of my throat over and over.

I gagged and choked, as drool started coming out. He’d give me short breaks to catch my breath before thrusting some more. All I could see when I looked up was his sweaty body and that gold chain bouncing up and down.

“Love this mouth, y/n. Love how ya used to use it to insult me, but now all ya can do is open it up and let me in. Ya can’t get enough, can ya? I could do this anytime I wanted, huh? Ya tried to resist me, but now I own ya. Ya love this cock.”

I was getting wet again just from his words. I was aware that I would feel like shit later, but I was willing to give anything for this pleasure. I just wanted to worship him; to give him everything he wanted.

Niall suddenly pulled his cock out and put his hands behind his back, “Choke on it,” he said. 

I looked confused for a moment. “Push it down yer throat and don’t let go til I say so.”

I had to lean up to get to him. I grabbed it with one hand, but he quickly swatted it away, and I understood. I leaned forward and slowly started pushing his cock in. It hit my throat, and I gagged, but I kept going, pushing and pushing until I finally reached his pubes. I stayed put. It was hard, as I choked, but it felt so good, doing exactly what he said and feeling his power, smelling his sweat. I grabbed onto his ass for good measure, feeling how firm it was.

“Oh, yeah,” Niall said above me. “That’s it, y/n. Such a good girl, doing everything I tell you.”

“Fuck,” he yelled out and he pulled my head off his cock with one hand, jerking off with the other. 

“Look at me,” he said and I looked up into his eyes. 

He kept eye contact as he reached his finish. It came out in ropes, hitting different parts of my face. It was warm and heavy, and I happily swallowed what landed in my mouth. Niall was smiling down at me, his hand still in my hair. He took the hand that was jerking himself off, and collected some of his cum from my face on his finger.

 “Open,” he said, and I stuck my tongue out. He put his cum-filled finger in and I sucked around it.

“Say thank you,” he commanded.

“Thank you, Niall,” I whispered meekly.

He picked up his clothes and walked away, his cum still on my face.

****

Just over a month. That’s how long it had been since Niall last used me up like he owned me, since Niall last spoke a word to me. 33 days, to be exact, but who’s counting?I had decided, after the second time sucking his cock and letting him ruin me, that I absolutely was not going back to him. He gave me the best orgasms I’ve ever had, and to be honest, I loved being dominated by him, loved worshiping him. But only in the moment. Afterward, I just felt like shit. Both times.I’m not sure what I expected after the first encounter. I knew his reputation beforehand. But I believed he must have a heart, that he would at least talk to me after fucking my brains out. So when he completely cut me out, I had to understand why, had to get an answer.What I got instead was another mouthful of his cock - not that I was complaining at the time.

So when he dropped me off that day without so much as a kiss goodbye, and instead a crude comment - ‘Try to think about something other than my cock’ - followed by a typical cocky smirk, i decided there was no way I was going back to him again. If he decided to ignore me like last time, then so be it. I would resist all temptations, no matter how unrelenting, and I would move on with my life.

So that’s how I’ve made it 33 days. A torturous, agonizing month, but at least I was building back my pride.I know for a fact that pretty much every girl Niall fucks ends up begging him for more. I’ve heard from plenty of girls who can’t seem to shake him from their mind. He gives them the best sex of their life, but then he leaves them in the middle of the ocean without a lifeline in site. It’s not like I felt superior to the other girls in any way; I mean I was just as hooked as they were; but I did take at least some pride in the fact that I was not feeding his ego.It was hard, mind you. I saw him on campus a few times per week, and every time, my mind instantly started racing, my face heated up, and my body began to remember what he can do. Now and then, he’d catch me looking, and he’d give a knowing smirk, but he easily resisted approaching me. I was just another conquest, after all, and there were plenty more to come in the parade of women in and out of his bedroom.No one could make a girl feel like he could, and he knew it. He had nothing to worry about, no one to be jealous of, which made these games easy for him. I was pretty sure that if I crawled back to him, he’d fuck me again. But no way was he was going to come to me.So, as difficult as it was, I was successful in avoiding him. I sometimes got wet just seeing him in a tank top or flirting shamelessly with some girl; I masturbated to thoughts of him many times; I even stalked his social media in my weakest moments, but I never gave in. I refused to give in.

****

On A Saturday during spring semester, I was sitting in a comfy chair in one of the little study nooks that are dispersed throughout the college. I enjoy sitting here, as it’s usually pretty quiet and I can concentrate on studying. I had my headphones in and was focused on a video that I was taking notes from.I dropped my pen, as I’m prone to do, and it fell on the ground in the space between the two chairs and the window behind. I stood up and then bent over the arms of the chairs, trying to reach down for the writing utensil. I then felt something alarming, but familiar. It was very apparent that a crotch was now pushed up against my ass, but the owner of the crotch was uncertain. I most certainly did not have a boyfriend, as I had yet to meet a guy since Niall who could give me even half the physical pleasure Niall could. I had a few girl friends who might joke around like this, but, as evidenced by the prominent manhood I was feeling against my butt, this was no girl.

"Damn, I almost forgot how nice this ass was. Loved watching it move while I fucked ya from behind those times."The culprit was now unmistakable. 

"What the hell are you doing Niall?” I snapped, turning around to face him. I was quickly overwhelmed with his presence. 

He was right in my face, and I could feel the heat of his body. He was in a tank top and his biceps were bulging, and his smirk was as bright as ever.It was clear that he instantly recognized his position of power. He was well aware that he could have me in the palm of his hand if he wanted.

“What’s the problem y/n? You weren’t so shy when you were moaning my name a couple weeks ago,” Niall said, his hand resting on my hip.

I was already struggling to speak. I was trying not to make eye contact, but that meant I had to look down, and what I saw when I looked down was Niall in some workout shorts with a very noticeable bulge in the stomach. I held back a whimper. Honestly, it was something of a heroic act for me to not give into him that second.

“A couple weeks?” I said, annoyed.

“We haven’t talked in over a month Niall.”

“Oh, is that right? I guess it kind of blends together for me. I don’t always remember which girl was when, although you do stand out, y/n,” he said with that smirk plastered on his face.

“And I see you’ve been thinking about me, since you know exactly how long it’s been.”

“Oh please, just because I have simple memory capabilities doesn’t me I actually care what happened between us. It meant nothing,” I said, not certain if I was convincing him or myself.

“Tell me, though,” Niall said, as he brought his body even closer to mine, now pressing against me. 

“What do you remember?"He moved his free hand into my hair, and leaned down, kissing under my ear. 

"Do you remember my dorm room, taking it on my bed, feeling me in you for the first time? Do you remember the back of my car, moaning my name and steaming up my windows?" 

The hand that was on my hip has now snaked its way under the waistband of my panties, and he’s moving it very slowly toward my sex.

"Do you remember my cock, y/n? Do you remember it filling up your mouth? Do you remember it in your throat?” he asked, making sure to kiss my throat right at that moment. 

“Do you remember gagging on it? Choking on it? Remember how big it is?" 

I let out the smallest gasp and Niall smiled against my skin, as he continued kissing and dirty talking. His lower hand then finally reached my sex, and he felt the wetness instantly. I had no way to lie; the evidence was right there; he had me yet again.

"Oh, my, y/n, in the middle of the science building, and here you are all wet for me. Wow. You must’ve been thinking about this non-stop for … a month did you say? Musta been tough. Well let me make it a little easier for you tonight, huh?"

A finger entered me and then a second. He continued leaving light kisses on me, as his fingers moved expertly, in and out. His bulge was pressed up against my thigh. My limbs were loose at my side. I had no control; all I could do was take his assault of pleasure. 

"Say thank you,” Niall goaded, continuing his actions but now staring into my eyes. 

All I could muster was a few heavy breaths until finally I whimpered, “Thank you, Niall."

He pulled his hand out and stepped away in one motion. He said "You’re welcome” and then stuck his wet fingers in front of my mouth. I opened in a haze, and he chuckled as he pushed my own wetness into my mouth. I sucked them clean. Niall smiled big and said, “Should be easier now to get to your orgasm tonight,” then winked and turned around. And all I could do was stare at that perfect body - his muscular back, broad shoulders, perky butt - as he walked away. 

****

Another two days passed, and I heard nothing from Niall. After all those days avoiding him, trying to get him out of my head, he swooped in, teased me to the brink of orgasm, and then just left me high and dry. He clearly refused to even entertain the notion of committing to any kind of relationship with me, and yet he still couldn’t just let me be at peace. It’s like he wants me to suffer.I tried to return to my previous strategy, avoiding him at all costs, erasing the idea of “us” from my head. But it wasn’t the thoughts of a relationship that I struggled with; it was the thoughts of lust. The way he pushed me to a near orgasm in about 30 seconds in the middle of a school hallway reminded me of the intense pleasure I felt the two times he fucked me. 

The last two nights, while in my bed, my attempts to resist thinking about him were embarrassingly short. As I closed my eyes, my brain immediately focused on him. I remembered his touch, his cocky demeanor, his bright eyes, his smirk, his kiss. And then I remembered his cock, the weight of it, the way it filled my throat and my sex. I remembered the boastful look on his face every time I peered up at him while he used my mouth. I remembered the sweat that gathered on his built chest as he fucked into me.As the thoughts raced through my head, my hand made its way back into my panties, and I quickly found myself hitting my high, quietly moaning his name. And both nights, after the climax, an immediate shame washed over me. How easily he had taken ownership of me again. 

On the third day, I had decided that it must stop. I would return to my life, one that does not involve an arrogant asshole like Niall. He could continue his fuckboy destiny, while I would move on to better things. One setback would not be enough to deter me.I was mostly successful. Thankfully I didn’t see him around campus that day. Seeing a couple kissing in the hallway or a particularly fit boy in workout clothes triggered an unwelcomed thought, now and then, but I would quickly bury it in the back of my mind.That night, I was feeling good. I had decided I was going to stay up and watch some shows, until I was so tired that I would fall asleep without even thinking. That was the best way to avoid those late night thoughts of the boy I refused to acknowledge. 

It was 10:30 p.m. and I was into the third episode of one of my go-to lighthearted sitcoms when my phone buzzed. I figured it was one of my friends, asking about plans for tomorrow, so I unlocked the phone while keeping my eyes on the show.I brought the phone to my face, and I almost choked. It had opened to a text message. A text message from Niall. It wasn’t just words; there was a photo, too.What appeared in front of my eyes was a shirtless and pantsless Niall, sitting up in bed. His tan skin was glistening and was so smooth, except around his chest, where the hair was matted down. I could see every defined muscle – the biceps, the chest, abs, shoulders, thighs. And then my eyes were led to his crotch. He was wearing white boxers briefs that might’ve been too small for him, as his cock could clearly be seen bulging through. One of his hands rested right by the bulge, emphasizing it. 

The caption wrote: “Figured ya were thinkin about this, so thought I’d just give ya a real picture to replace the mental one  Haven’t fucked since yesterday, so it’s even more ready to go than usual.”I was appalled by his action, by his lack of manners and by the fact that he readily admitted he’s fucking a different girl almost every day. Does he really think admitting he’s a man whore makes him more appealing? Unfortunately, though, he’s probably right. Disgusted as I might have been, I was also instantly hot. Seeing him in this primal form is just too much to handle. His aura reeks of sex, and no matter how much I hate him as a person, he’s the best sex I’ve ever had, and I doubt I’ll ever meet another person who can make me feel what he can. He’s perfection in my eyes, and in moments like this, I live to worship him. My mind goes in a thousand directions, all of them leading to his cock. My fingers are already rubbing my clit, and I’m well on my way to an orgasm. Another text comes in: “Say thank you.” And as I hit my high seconds later, it comes out as the most pathetic of whimpers: Thank you, Niall.”

****

Another three days and nothing from Niall. But it’s not like he needs to do anything. He’s already living rent free in my mind. I had decided to let him overwhelm me, because after that photo came in, I had no power to resist. I was not even close to deleting it, instead staring at it, drooling over it, each night I went to bed. I wanted his cock more than anything else in the world. But with some kind of false belief that I still had my dignity, I refused to reach out to him, refused to beg him for sex, like I’m sure so many girls have done before. Instead, I let my thoughts and that photo take care of my desire for him.I would eventually delete the photo, go back to my plan of moving on with life. I just needed a few days of quietly obsessing over him, and then I could work on pushing him out again.It was a Saturday morning, and I headed to the gym. One way I was trying to maintain my sanity, besides spending a lot of time with friends and studying, was to keep fit. I wasn’t about to be in magazines, but I could be healthy, and I was at least pretty enough for Niall to fuck twice and continue to torture, so I guess that’s pretty good. 

I set myself up on the treadmill, where I spent most of my time while in the gym, and I started jogging. I did my best to focus on the workout, drowning out unwanted thoughts with music from my earbuds. I was moving along well, increasing speed, when I made the unfortunate decision to open my eyes.There are a number of mirrors lining the wall, about 10 feet in front of the treadmills, and in them I could see most of the rest of the gym. And in one mirror, I could see the weight lifting station, and there was Niall. He wore a blue tank top with a gold chain and those same tight workout shorts I saw him in a few days ago.He was lifting what appeared to be a lot of weight, at least to me. And he was making it look easy. His biceps moved with every motion, and my core throbbed instantly. He was just so hot. After several seconds of my eyes fixated on him through the mirror, he apparently felt the gaze and looked toward the same mirror. We made eye contact through the reflection, and he smirked. I almost tripped but regained my composure and looked straight ahead. I was completely unable to stay focused. 

I continually stole glances toward him, as he continued to do more weight training, and he caught me looking multiple times. He even licked his lips on one occasion, which did nothing to help the dampening feeling in my underwear.He hadn’t even approached me yet, and yet he already knew he had me.After about 15 minutes, I heard his voice behind me. 

“Hey Y/N, is there something over by the weights I can get ya? I noticed you kept lookin over there.” 

I put my feet on either side of the treadmill, pulled my earbuds out and looked his way. Breathing heavily, I said, “Uh, no. I, uh, was just looking around I guess.” 

Niall smiled, “Oh, I see. Well do ya wanna turn that machine off? Seems like ya could use a breather.” 

I froze for a couple seconds, before listening to him and powering down the treadmill, turning around to look at him, no words forming. At that moment, the only other person in the gym went out the door, and a smirk appeared on Niall’s face. 

“Why don’t you come sit?” Niall said, patting his hand on a nearby bench press seat. 

It was phrased as a question, but it was unquestionably a command. He was testing how obedient I would be. I did as he asked, and sat at the edge of the seat. I was feeling vulnerable and powerless, but mostly just aroused. Niall knelt down on his feet in front of me, staring into my eyes with a mischievous smile on his face. After a few seconds, he grabbed one of my feet, and took off the running shoe and then the sock. He did the same with the other foot. He then started massaging one foot with both hands. 

“I saw ya workin hard there, y/n. Tryin to get yourself lookin good?” Niall asked, still rubbing my foot. 

“Uh, I guess, yeah,” I meekly responded.

“Hmmm.. who are ya tryin to look good for?” 

“I don’t know. I..”

“I think it might be me,” Niall interrupted with an almost aggressive smirk. 

“Or maybe you’re just tryna distract yourself so you don’t haveta think about me?” I was speechless. 

He chuckled, switching to rubbing my other foot and asking, “Did ya like the picture I sent ya the other night? Bet ya didn’t delete it, did ya?”I was still unable to speak, so I just shook my head, and his smile grew bigger. 

“Mmm, good,” Niall said, dropping my foot down and standing up straight, the bulge in his shorts about a foot away from my face.

“Why don’t you take those shorts off, y/n? Think ya need to cool off a little.”

I hesitated, but not for long, and I slowly pulled down my running shorts, leaving just my panties, which were obviously wet. 

“Why are you soaked?” Niall asked abruptly. 

“Answer.”

“You,” was all I could manage to get out. 

“Of course,” he chuckled. 

“I guess you weren’t just ‘lookin around’ earlier, huh? You musta liked watchin me work out. Go ahead and take your tank top off now.” 

It was actually just a sports bra, but it’s not like Niall was going to care, so I just ignored that and obeyed the command. It was a little tough, having worked up a sweat, but I managed pull the layer of clothing over my head, leaving my breasts exposed. 

“Very good,” Niall smiled. “You listen very well, y/n.” 

He then pulled off his own shorts, leaving his socks and shoes on. He was in white underwear again, but this time spandex, which he probably wore for working out. The outline of his cock was so prominent, he mine as well have had nothing on. He then peeled off his tank top, leaving only his chain dangling on his hairy chest. His body was glistening. 

“Lay back,” Niall said, as he moved forward.

 I obeyed. I would do anything he told me to do right now. My head was now rested just short of the bench press par, with my butt still on the edge of the seat. Niall positioned himself above my crotch, one leg on each side of the bench press seat. When I moved my head up a bit to look forward, all I saw was his crotch and the straining bulge in the front of his spandex. I was overwhelmed at this point. 

“Want me to make ya feel good, y/n?” he asked, talking to me like I was a child. 

“Want me to make ya cum?” I nodded, breathing ragged. 

He smirked and then lowered himself down, his bulge pressing against my heat. He then leaned his torso forward and put his arms on either side of my head. And he started rocking his hips. The feeling was indescribable. I remembered just how big he is, as his cock pressed against my folds over and over again. I was sopping in my panties, making his underwear wet, too, and his thrusts started making wet noises. 

“How does this cock feel, y/n?” he asked. 

“So good,” I whimpered. 

“It’s so big, Niall.”He chuckled, looking into my eyes, still thrusting, “I know that y/n. You know how many girls have told me how big I am, how I’m the best they’ve ever had. Is it true, y/n? Am I the best?” 

“You’re the best, Niall,” I blurted out. 

“God, you’re incredible.” 

“Yeah? Do you think about me when you’re alone at night?” 

“Yes, Niall”“What do you think about?”

“Your cock, Niall.”He smiled a huge smile. 

“Cum in your panties, y/n” he said, as his thrusts got even more forceful. It felt like his cock was actually railing inside me now. 

“Cum jus like ya do when ya think about me in yer little bed at night, pretending like ya hate me, but never gettin me out of yer head.” 

“Ohh, Niall,” I panted. 

“That’s right, y/n. This is the real thing. Ya got my cock rubbin up against yer pussy. Ya feel that? Ya feel how big it is? Feel how good I fuck ya?’ 

“Yes, Niall, yes,” I shouted. 

My orgasm came in, and as I hit my climax, there was no stopping my real thoughts from coming out in a flurry of moans and pants. 

“No one can make me feel like you can. Your the best. I think about your cock all the time.” Niall was beaming at this point, staring down at me. 

He was so masculine, his chest sweating and his biceps flexing as he held himself up above me. His gold chain was bouncing against his chest, as he thrusted hard and fast. The site was enough to just about kill me, and my final high hit like a ton of bricks. I screamed out his name. As I came down, Niall stood up and got out of his underwear. His cock jumping out, smacking against his abs and resting in place. He now only had had his chain and his shoes and socks on, and as I looked up, I could’ve sworn he was a fitness model. His broad shoulders lead down to a skinny waist. His muscles were so defined all over.

“Now ya have some work to do,” Niall said, as he respositioned himself over me on the bench press.

 This time though, he moved up, so he was sitting on my chest, above my breast. His cock was is my face.He reached behind my head and grabbed my hair. Pulling my head up a bit, he made a ponytail from my hair. He then grabbed his cock with his other hand. He had to stand up a bit and move back, because his cock was too long, and he needed to adjust to get it in front of my mouth.

“Open up,” he said.

 I was totally fucked out at this point, and would only be able to respond to simple commands. I opened wide, and he slowly pushed in.After a few inches, my mouth felt full, but he wasn’t even halfway in. He continued to slowly push in reaching my throat, and pushing down it.

“Oh, that feels good, y/n,” Niall said, tilting his head up and closing his eyes, as he continued pushing in. 

I was gagging a bit, but he continued pushing in further.

 “Don’t worry. Your throat will get used to it. They always do.” 

I couldn’t even think about the arrogance of what he just said, because I was too entranced, too overcome by him. I belonged to him.After pushing all the way in, my nose now in his sweaty pubes, Niall finally pulled all the way out, leaving in just the tip. He looked down, smiling, and used his thumb to wipe the tears that were coming out of my eyes. 

“Do ya like sucking on me cock, y/n?” he asked, started to jack himself off. 

I nodded.

“Say it. Tell me how ya feel,” he commanded.

“I.. I love..,” I started, taking a badly needed breath, “I love how big it feels in my mouth … (deep breath) and how it stretches out my throat … (deep breath) and I love looking up and seeing you above me.” 

Niall put on a more gentle smile.

 “Good girl,” he said, as he softly caressed my cheek. He then stood up, his cock bouncing above me. “Lay your head down,” he ordered. I did as I was told.

“Open up.” I listened again, and Niall knelt a bit, grabbing the back of my head with one hand and directing his cock back into my mouth with the other. 

He then started thrusting his hips. He couldn’t even hit his whole cock with each thrust, hitting the back of my throat over and over.I gagged and choked, as drool started coming out. He’d give me short breaks to catch my breath before thrusting some more. All I could see when I looked up was his sweaty body and that gold chain bouncing up and down.

“Love this mouth, y/n. Love how ya used to use it to insult me, but now all ya can do is open it up and let me in. Ya can’t get enough, can ya? I could do this anytime I wanted, huh? Ya tried to resist me, but now ya can’t get enough of me. Ya love this cock.” 

I was getting wet again just from his words. I was aware that I would feel like shit later, but I was willing to give anything for this pleasure. I just wanted to worship him; to give him everything he wanted. Niall suddenly pulled his cock out and put his hands behind his back. 

“Choke on it,” he said. I looked confused for a moment. 

“Push it down yer throat and don’t let go til I say so.”

I had to lean up to get to him. I grabbed it with one hand, but he quickly swatted it away, and I understood. I leaned forward and slowly started pushing his cock in. It hit my throat, and I gagged, but I kept going, pushing and pushing until I finally reached his pubes. I stayed put. It was hard, as I choked, but it felt so good, doing exactly what he said and feeling his power, smelling his sweat. I grabbed onto his ass for good measure, feeling how firm it was. 

“Oh, yeah,” Niall said above me. “That’s it, y/n. Such a good girl, doing everything I tell you.” 

“Fuck,” he yelled out and he pulled my head off his cock with one hand, jerking off with the other. 

“Look at me,” he said and I looked up into his eyes. 

He kept eye contact as he reached his finish. It came out in ropes, hitting different parts of my face. It was warm and heavy, and I happily slowed what landed in my mouth. Niall was smiling down at me, his hand still in my hair. He took the hand that was jerking himself off, and collected some of his cum from my face on his finger. 

“Open,” he said, and I stuck my tongue out. He put his cum-filled finger in and I sucked around it.

“Say thank you, y/n,” he commanded.

“Thank you, Niall,” I whispered meekly. He picked up his clothes and walked away.