#and I really gotta do well academically this year

[abstract-moth]

for once I would like to be struggling academically bc my brain actually struggles to comprehend the material and not bc I have some dumb*ss sh*t going on in my personal life

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

gamers has this been done yet

[mekanikaltrifle]

i know notes numbers aren’t a sign of success or anything and I don’t actually like the thought of being really hugely known but. sometimes I feel a little down that I’m sucha  small presence inverse to the amount of work I put in. :( Shit ain’t a meritocracy, I know.

[woniehugs]

OPERATION: FUCK SIM JAEYUN.

—✧ summary: as a student, you were a huge academic overachiever, always wanting to excel in class and get the highest grades. as a teenage girl, you wanted to get some hardcore action. academics were stressful, and you needed an outlet for that stress. besides, it’s your second to the last year in high school. what could possible go wrong if you deviated and have a little fun? you’ve had your eyes on one guy for a while now, sim jaeyun. the handsome guy, the star soccer player, good at physics. now, you now had another goal aside from finishing the school year as the top student: fuck sim jaeyun. one day, you get partnered together for a project, and one thing led to another, you end up in his bed. this might just turn your life for the better… or the worst.

—✧ pairing: jake sim x y/n

—✧ genre: highschool! au, fluff, pining (mutual? you’ll see), friends with benefits, casual relationship, smut (in later parts)

—✧ a/n: i’ve been thinking about this plot for soooo long now and i really want to write it so here i am haha. this story will be split into two parts (you’ll understand why soon) each part with a vague number of chapters for now. depends on my mood, i’ll be writing and posting the chapters whenever since i’m pretty busy. but i promise, i will finish writing this because this is the plot i’ve been both daydreaming and sleeping to at night. this’ll be my outlet for my stress from academics ;)

—✧ taglist: @youreverydayzebra @witheeseung @w3bqrl @renjuns-grillfreind (cant be tagged) @freakywonbin , @enhafika , @enhacolor, @woniebuns, @cyberstephzz, @sumzysworld, @woniefull, @aanniikkaa, @faithnsstuff, @wonnienyang, @wonlluvie, @slut4hee, @hwaluvrsblog, @jakeswifez, @jiryunie, @nikibleist , @friurt, @jungwonsstrawberriesnchocolate, @jakesimfromstatefarm, @lolddhfsdcvff-blog (cant be tagged), @my10monthslovesimjae, @heefever, @milanco, @khaisdrz, @cha-raena, @khaisdrz , @milanco , @bananna-12 (cant tag), @ilovejakesimsm (cant tag), @enhypenlovre, @simjaeyunswifee, @shawnyle, @hoonieluv, @niniissus, @bookloversomuch . send an ask or comment if you want to be added!

SHORT PREVIEW:

══════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ��.·:·.*══════

you pull away from jake, panting, trying to catch your breath. you hear him breathing in the same pace as yours, and your brain short-circuits for a moment. you couldn’t believe what the hell just happened.

who the fuck leaned in first?

was it me? him?

and why did i enjoy it so much?

“s-shit, i…” you try to say, clearing your throat. you weren’t so sure what to say after that. wow? you’re an amazing kisser. we should do this more often! oh no you would sound insane. but then again, you were never even sane in the first place.

jake continues to stare at you, still trying to catch his breath. he looks at the unfinished project beside you, biting his bottom lip to keep himself from smiling. you notice this, raising an eyebrow, “what are you smiling about? is this funny to you? we just—“

“yes. we just made out. in my bed.” he cuts you off, looking you in the eye once again. you wanted to look away, growing shy under his gaze, but you find yourself not doing so. “didn’t think you were capable of that. always thought you were the saving yourself after marriage type of girl.”

your eyes widen in surprise, pushing him off. “e-excuse me! you act like you just fucked me in your mattress, which you didn’t, and we won’t ever do!” partially a lie. now that he mentioned it, you couldn’t stop thinking about that scenario now after that incredible almost experience. “and besides, i am that type of girl. i have huge respect for myself.”

jake smiled even wider at your response, “right. i’m not saying you don’t. but i gotta say, i wouldn’t mind doing that again.”

did you hear that correctly? did he just say he wouldn’t mind doing that again?!

well, to be fair, you honestly wouldn’t mind either.

you shake your head, “oh, shove off! let’s pretend that never happened. keep that between us.” you point a finger towards him, “say a word to anyone else and i will cut your balls off. that isn’t a threat, it’s a promise.”

“oh y/n, i know better than to disobey you.” jake replied, holding your hand in his and pressing a kiss to the finger you pointed at him. you could see the mischievous glint in his eye and you wanted nothing more than to slap (kiss, no, scratch that) smirk off his face, but that would mean you were in the losing round in a game that was never played in the first place.

not yet at least. oh god, what the hell were you thinking?

you gulp quietly, nodding at him, and quickly turned to the project in front of you. “right. we’re finished with our short break, l-let’s continue working. we’re not nearly done with this.” great. distract yourselves from what happened. that’s a good idea. put it all behind you and him.

you couldn’t exactly look him in the eye when saying that, so you could probably guess all that jake heard from you was blah blah blah. fortunately for you, jake hummed beside you and continued to work, acting completely oblivious (or so you’d like to assume) to what you were feeling right now.

once you went home, you were going to spend the whole night thinking about this. not just about what happened, but what jake responded to your embarrassing outburst.

“right. i’m not saying you don’t. but i gotta say, i wouldn’t mind doing that again.”

now why on earth would he say that to you?

══════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*══════

chapter list! (tentative)

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

══════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*══════

©2024 ©woniehugs

[moonstruckme]

I’ve been binge reading your emt polymarauders. And I gotta tell you ! It’s like sipping a nice lemonade on a summer day. Oh my…

I’m a medical student so I loooooove this prompt so much. I couldn’t sleep tonight because biochemistry has been rotting my brain. Ugh

Anyways,

I had an idea, could you maybe make a reader who’s in her first year of med school and she’s so stressed. The boys try to ease her a little but she doesn’t listen and itch closer to burnout. Until she starts to feel unwell and comes out of her study to drink water. But before she can react she passes out and the boys rush to help.

(Totally not happened to me once in front of almost 30 3rd years. Nooooo.)

Hope you like the idea ❤️

Thanks babe, I'm glad you enjoy them! And thank you for requesting <3

cw: academic stress, fainting

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“What nerve supplies the posterior arm and forearm?” Remus asks you. 

The words are beginning to sound like gibberish. “The, um…the radial nerve.” 

“Well done.” Remus sets your flash card atop a stack. There are three of them, ones you know well, ones you’re still shaky on, and ones you’ve not got a clue about. This card goes in the first stack. It’s small enough that every addition feels like a victory. 

Your boyfriends have been kind enough to bring you lunch at the library. It was quickly revealed as a plot to try and coax you into taking a break, but when that clearly wasn’t working they decided to stay awhile and keep you company. You have a reading room all to yourself today, so James has made himself comfortable on the couch and Sirius has laid his head down in his lap, content to have his hair played with while James watches you and Remus study.

“And which carpals communicate with the radius?” Remus asks. 

“Um…”

“Think carefully,” Sirius says in his TV host voice. “This one’s for full points.” 

You blink. You feel suddenly odd. Off-kilter. “There’s two,” you say slowly. “Lunate and…um…” 

“Can we do hints?” James asks. 

You’d rather not, but you feel like you need it. “Sure.” 

“Alright.” Remus glances down at your card. “It starts with an s.” 

“I know it.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I had this one yesterday. It’s like sca…sca something. Sorry, I feel like I can’t concentrate.” 

“Do you want me to tell you?” Remus asks gently. 

You sigh. “Yeah, okay.” 

“It’s lunate and scaphoid.” 

You groan, pushing your fingers into your forehead. “I knew that.” 

“It’s alright.” Remus sets the card in the middle stack. He’s watching you carefully. “Do you think it’s time for a break?” 

“Yeah.” You take a deep breath. “I feel weird, I think…” You pick up your water bottle, but it’s light, empty. “I’m going to go get some water.” 

Remus’ eyes are sympathetic. “Good idea, dove.” 

The feeling worsens when you stand, like the change in altitude is making you light-headed. You take two steps. The first wobbles, the second sinks. 

You don’t remember passing out. There’s no darkening of your vision or panicky realization, just one second your knee is bending unbidden and the next the trampled fibers of the library carpet are smushed against your face. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.” It takes you a second to recognize the feel of hands under your head and ribcage, but that’s James’ voice. The knees of Remus’ trousers are in front of your face. “What’d you do that for?” 

“I didn’t mean to,” you mumble. 

“Let’s get you on your back,” says Remus. 

He and James work together to rotate you gently, and then you have a better view of the room. Remus and James kneeling above you, Sirius standing behind them with a look of wide-eyed horror. It appears each of your boyfriends has jumped up in a fright. 

“Do you feel warm?” Remus brushes some hair away from your face while James picks up your wrist to get your pulse and Sirius launches into action, kneeling by your feet. 

“Not really…” You startle as your legs pick up off the floor. “Sirius, my skirt!”

“It’s just us here, doll,” Sirius reminds you. “I promise to protect your modesty if anyone comes in, whatever the cost.” 

You frown at what he could mean by that, but Remus thumbs over your cheek placatingly. “Is there anywhere around here that might have sports drinks?” 

“Um, there’s a vending machine downstairs.” 

“Perfect. I’ll be back shortly.” He gives your cheek a quick hold before leaving. 

James kisses your palm once he’s done with your pulse, and then his fingers find the collar of your shirt, popping open the first two buttons with practiced ease. 

Your hand flies up to prevent him going further. “Why does everyone keep trying to undress me?” 

James laughs, and Sirius replies smoothly, “Why, is this not a good time for you?” 

“Take it easy, lovie.” James takes your hand, holding it in his own. “We’re just making sure all the blood that wants to go to your brain can get there.” 

“Oh.” You knew that. Or you should’ve, if your brain was working properly.

“If it’s somewhat risque in practice, I certainly don’t mind as much with you as I do with the old blokes we sometimes get.” Sirius winks at you. 

You offer up a weak smile in return, and he pouts. 

“How’re you feeling, sweetness?” 

“I’m alright.” You take a breath. “Can I sit up now?”

“Let’s give it a bit.” James rubs your shoulder. “How do you really feel?” 

“Just…weird. Shaky. But not too bad.” 

“That’s good,” he says, though he looks like he doesn’t quite believe you. 

“I think I’ll be fine once I get something to drink.” 

“Mm, I think there’s probably a bit more to it than that,” Remus says as he comes back in. He crouches beside you, twisting the top off a bottle of orange juice. “That is a very well-stocked vending machine. Do you feel ready to sit up, dove?” 

“I have been,” you say. “They won’t let me.” 

“Such ingratitude,” Sirius teases as he sets your feet back down. “We were only waiting for your juice.” 

James helps you up with a hand on your back, and it takes a second of wordless wrestling with Remus to get him to let you bring the bottle to your own lips. 

“You could be dehydrated,” he says as you drink, “or you could just be exhausted, or both. And you can faint from too much stress too, you know.” 

“I know,” you grumble, wiping your mouth. 

Remus takes your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. You find your indignance shrinking under his steady gaze. “You hurt yourself when you push yourself this hard, sweet girl.” 

“I know,” you say, softer now. “I thought I could handle it.” 

“You need to take more breaks.” 

You nod slightly. 

“And work on putting less pressure on yourself.” 

“Alright, Rem, lay off her.” Sirius rubs your knee. It breaks you from Remus’ trance, and your dark-haired boyfriend flashes you a smile when you look his way. “She’s got enough going through her head without having to remember all you want her to do. Let’s go home, yeah?” 

James insists on supporting you while you walk out of the library. Sirius and Remus debate what film you should put on once you get back to your flat. 

“Shouldn’t I get to choose?” you ask. 

“Well, look who’s feeling up to asking questions.” Sirius gives your cheek a condescending little pat. “Unfortunately, I don’t think you’re really ready to be picking out films, my love. Your decision making is probably still impacted from that fainting spell.” 

“Really.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I’ve never heard of that side effect.” 

“Well, you’re only a first year, doll. There’s lots you don’t know.”

[eubybubble]

“you could live a hundred lifetimes, and never deserve that boy”

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader

summary: he's always there when you need him, but he's nowhere to be found at the Yule Ball. while searching for him, you come across something heartbreaking.

word count: 1.5k

pt. 1 | pt. 2

Everyone around you knew. Even the teachers, but you. Enzo would just smile when you nudged him and called him the “best friend you could ever have.”

Even after all these years, it amazed you that whenever you were craving something sweet or were moody, he could pull out candies - your favorite ones, specifically. He'd just shrug off your questions, “Y/N, you're not that special. I have a sweet tooth too, you know? Could've carried ones with you as well so that we can switch roles for once,” he playfully rolled his eyes.

Enzo was one of Hermione's close friends. Maybe that's why he cared so much about school. Or vice versa. But the thing is, he was the top student, and you were just above average. You often forgot to do homework, which played against you, but hey, you had Enzo who would give you a copy of his homework and whisper the right answers to you. But if it were others... “Hey, mate, can I copy that too?” Mattheo looked pleadingly. “Sorry, gotta maintain academic honesty,” he got his notebook back and winked at Mattheo.

“Guys, wanna go to Hogsmeade this Saturday?” you asked cheerfully. Everyone exchanged awkward looks, and it was silent for a while. “We were planning to go out as couples, and some of us got homework to do,” Blaise explained softly. “Yeah, don't hold a grudge against your amazing friends, cara mia; Blaise is only telling the truth,” Theo grinned at you.

“I can, I have nothing to do anyway,” Enzo didn't lift his eyes from books. “Wasn't it you who just complained about Numerology class's workload-“ Draco was confused, but Enzo immediately looked up, staring at him intensely. “Really? Don't think so.” And so, you found someone to go with.

As you two went out, he noticed that you didn't have a scarf on. Your nose and cheeks were red, and you tried to hide your face in your jacket. He just furrowed, but then took off his scarf and wrapped it around you. “Why'd you go out like that? You'll get sick,” he asked coldly. It was unusual. You felt uncomfortable as you tried to return the scarf to him. “Ah... owl tore mine apart; I was planning to buy new. Sorry, let me give it back to you.” He stopped you. “It's okay.”

Your primary goal for today was to buy a dress for the Yule Ball. As you two went into every shop to see if they had something decent, never once did Enzo complain. After two hours, you finally found the perfect one. It was a beautiful shade of orange, which turned to pink towards the end. It was long and had a sweetheart neckline. It just enhanced the beauty of your clavicle, shoulders, and waist. Probably the most beautiful detail was an artificial flower on one shoulder. You were blushing hard as you saw his mouth was agape.

“You look beautiful.” You blushed harder, turning away to face the mirror. The dress was bought successfully, and you two headed to Three Broomsticks. Having placed your order, you just sighed.

“Something wrong?”

“No. Thanks for sparing your time to help me today,” you smiled softly.

“Uh, it's really nothing. I enjoyed spending time with you.” It was strange. You were alone with Enzo so many times, but it never felt so awkward, or rather nervous. He seemed to be braver with compliments today.

“Have you invited someone to the ball yet?” “Nah. Mustering up courage to ask someone special. And you? I mean, has someone asked you yet?” He smirked.

“No... I don't really know why I bought that dress if no one asked me...” To tell the truth, you were utterly embarrassed. You thought he'd start laughing at you, but his smile widened.

“Maybe there'll be someone special in the end. Don't lose hope.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Easy to say when you're so handsome and popular that everyone sends you love letters. He nearly choked from the sudden outburst of laughter. And with that, the conversation topic changed.

The ball was tomorrow, and you still had no pair. Maybe it wasn't meant to be? You groaned as you threw the pillow across the room. “Do you want me to die or?” Pansy was amused at this sight. “Pans, just leave me alone,” you mumbled into the bed.

“Are you still upset because of that ball? C'mon, it's a silly thing, just go with me, you don't need any pair!”

“Easy to say when Draco asked you the first day.”

“Maybe you're right. But you're still going to have fun.” she winked. “Now, let's go to breakfast.”

You two walked into the Great Hall, observing everyone worrying and exchanging shy looks. You could feel someone's gaze on yourself. You turned your head and saw Enzo. He was smiling. A big box of chocolate and a note with flowers lay in front of him.

“You look so sour... Don't tell me no one asked you yet?” He laughed.

“Shut up. And who's that for?' You mentioned things laying on the table.

“Uh, these. They're for-“

He didn't get to finish his sentence as someone tapped your shoulder. It was a tall boy from Ravenclaw. You saw him on quidditch team. He was handsome and smart, given that he's from a blue house. He smiled nervously. “Hey... you're Y/N, right? Would you mind going to the Yule Ball with me?” So straightforward. Yet you were dumbfounded as blush slowly creeped up your face. You just nodded, and he happily went back to his table, giving you a bouquet of chrysanthemums.

You were beyond happy as you shoved the invitation in your friends' faces to brag. However, everyone was throwing worried looks towards Enzo who had his jaws clenched. “Is everything okay? Why is everyone so quiet?” “Nothing. I'm happy for you.” Enzo smiled for a second before standing up and leaving the Great Hall with his belongings. “I have to go; Numerology's starting soon.” Everyone tried to ease up the atmosphere, but you still felt weird.

Yule Ball. Oh, everyone and everything was so amazing. You put every effort into makeup and outfit today. That Ravenclaw boy, or Henry, which turned out to be his name, accompanied you from your common room to the Great Hall. Everyone was having a great time, and you enjoyed the evening. You made your way to your friend group and noticed how beautiful everyone was. There were couples everywhere, but you couldn't see one person. Lorenzo Berkshire. Slowly pulling Pansy aside, you tried to speak loudly enough for her to hear you over the music. “Hey, where's Enzo?”

She looked at you weirdly. “Oh, he just got somewhat sick. He decided to stay in the dorm.”

“He WHAT? Maybe I should check up on him..." You didn't let Pansy finish as you made your way out of the Great Hall.

A million thoughts rushed through your head, making it harder to concentrate on one. Enzo didn't like to be ill. He was rarely ill, but every time, he'd get so scared of being left alone in the dorm. No one could joke about it since it had a stinging backstory. But you stopped in your tracks as you overheard loud talking and laughing. No one was supposed to be in the halls of Hogwarts now.

"She agreed so easily; one could think she'd have many suitors, given that she's such a bitch." It was such a familiar voice.

"Mhm, but now you have to sleep with her. Isn't it a bit hard, Henry?"

"Nah, she'd fold after the right amount of firewhisky."

“I doubt it. But if you win the bet, 100 galleons are yours." You could only stare into space in disbelief. Someone betting on you? It felt so wrong, so disgusting. So your worth was 100 galleons. Tears started rolling down your cheeks as you tried to be as quiet as possible. But you were hurt, you didn't even care anymore. You just ran in the opposite direction, wherever the feet would carry you, until you bumped into someone. Books fell from their hand.

"Hey, what the hell-" He stopped abruptly. It was a familiar voice. Not Henry, but Enzo.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" He seemed perfectly healthy.

"Enzo?" You blinked in confusion. Your face was puffy with tears, and his heart clenched at the sight. "Weren't you ill..."

As he picked up his books, he just sighed. "No... I just. I didn't want to, that's all." Indeed, he wasn't dressed in a fancy suit. He was in his favorite sweater and jeans. "But it isn't about me. Why were you crying?" He asked sternly. "It's nothing... I just..." time passed, and you couldn't think of a single excuse.

You just sighed and sat on a nearby staircase. "What the hell is wrong with me, Lorenzo?" He wasn't used to you saying his full name. "Huh? Who told you that?" He tilted his head curiously. "No one. I was wondering why no one could love me? And why did the only boy who invited me to the Yule ball turn out to be a dickhead who bet that he could sleep with me?" He nearly choked as his face turned dark with anger. "Huh. So he did that?" He got absorbed in his thoughts. You could see his features becoming more sharp as he did so, so you tried to switch the topic.

"So? Why didn't you want to go? Don't tell me you got rejected by that girl?" You teased him. "That girl is you." He just blurted it out.

After seconds of silence, you started laughing. "Nice one, Berkshire. Bet you drooled over me all those years."

"I'm being serious." He averted his eyes. "Ever since I met you the first year, I've always wanted to be your friend. But this changed during the fifth year. I started wanting more than friendship. I am lost in your eyes; in this dark world, they're the only light that keeps me going. I can listen to you ramble all day long. I love all your habits; I want to be there when you cry and when you laugh. I find myself wondering how does your hand or lips feel like. I wanted to be with you, I wanted you to notice me. But all my efforts seemed to be futile." He blushed, hiding his face in his palms. "Is confessing always that embarrassing?”

“Is being confessed to always feels that amazing?" You asked quietly. You've had a crush on Enzo for a long time, but you settled for unrequited feelings. Every sign he gave was shut down by you. After all, he’s kind to everyone, right? Turns out, no. His eyes locked with yours, and he tilted his head, getting closer to your face. He seemed to be asking for permission, and when you didn't push him away, he finally leaned in.

a/n: planning 2nd part with hcs (lorenzo as a boyfriend), yes I’m THAT obsessed with him. anyway, english isn’t my first language so sorry for any any mistakes! you can drop other requests with other characters in my ask box

[let-me-sleep-or-die]

”yay Riz is so good at Stealth and IInvestigation!”

Riz can hide like no one else. He can basically become shadow the bitch can’t get lower than a 23 if he wants to disappear, he can. He doesn’t have to go away entirely, he can hide parts of himself away leaving the rest visible. He hides how stressed he is. He hides his fears, his sexuality, He hides how close he is to falling apart and almost (ALMOST) no one notices.

Riz is also naturally very good at finding g things. He can find people, find out secrets, he can figure out Mysteries a millennia old. He can knows how to find what people want hidden. Kristen’s not over Tracker, she’s not doing well, she’s worried about her god. He knows this and he’s trying to find a way to make it better, he’s running her campaign telling everyone he meets about ibis amazing friend Kristen who he knows is capable. Fig from taking no classes to three, she’s more stressed than she’s ever been, mostly because she’s actually trying for the first time so if she fails this time it might just mean she can’t do it. He knows that, he helps her with homework and lets her come with him to hunt down clues when they both need a distraction.

Gorgug is tearing himself apart, he’s trying to be two things and the world keeps telling him he’s not good enough for either. He’s doing four years of school in one term and the administration couldn’t care less. He is realizing his parents have parts of their lives he didn’t know about, His teacher doesn’t take him seriously and He’s still listening to his Girlfriends Exgirlfrinds playlist what, 6 months after they broke up? Riz knows this, he sees it. He helps Gorgug study, he makes sure he knows that Riz finds their friendship valuable, they have a joint birthday party, he takes his friend seriously.

Adaine is flat broke, she’s got a crappy job and an unfair schooling system. Her sister is only half taking care of herself, she can’t quite find the right answers. Riz sees it. He will always be there to help her research, always offer a second opinion. He knows how to make money stretch, he’s lived paycheck to paycheck. He can help her all she’s gotta do is ask.

Fabian is alone. He has his doors open all the time hoping someone will walk in and stay. He’s the captain of a team, Star of the school and subject to his fathers legacy. Riz has lived most of his life hoping to make a dad father proud, he knows the feeling. If the doors open, Riz will come, he will sit in a corner and work but he will be there. Any time Fabian feels like he may not be enough Riz is there to tell him he is the most amazing person he knows, and he means it.

Riz is watching is friends struggle, and streaching himself thin, taking on everything he can to maybe for just a second lessen their load. He can easily figure out when somethings wrong so when he does he puts his own life on the back burner. He’s mapped out every one of his friend’s academics. He’s managing a campaign, acting as a personal tutor, a member of every club in the school, a Star student and a damn good detective.

Hes burning himself alive and he’s so good at hiding, (almost) no one notices. If he takes on too much stress, it will literally kill him. I wonder if anyone would even know how much he was struggling.

“Oh Riz is really good at Deception and investigation, FUCK!”

[radfemsiren]

I’ll never forget that random normie Asian man that was protesting and standing up against a crowd of Deppford wives with “I support Amber Heard” signs deep the height of her smear campaign.

Feminist accounts I followed for years were tweeting bullshit like, “support male victims🥺” or dumb cowardly shit like, “Well we don’t have the facts yet, let’s stay neutral for now.” … all the while this self described centrist was going out and actually showing her irl support, while getting yelled at and mocked.

Really made me realize how weak and hypocritical liberal feminists were… I had to make a tumblr and finally find support for her here on radblr. That’s how I actually found this community 2 years ago!

I’ll never forget that man, I always think about him when smug pseudo academics online put down “politically illiterate normies,” … that normie’s probably doing more than you! You can post about anarcho/marxist/ feminist/ whatever political stances you want, but you gotta back your shit up and stand on business, even if 90% of people are screaming at you how wrong you are. You gotta recognize a misogynistic smear campaign while it’s happening, and not be afraid to go against the majority narrative. .

(Here’s his interview, a woman passing by was also interviewed showing support, I’m glad she spoke up! Even though she didn’t protest, showing her face on the news and being openly pro heard at that time was very brave)

[ahgasegotarmy116]

The Art of Etiquette Part 1 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Your Step Father would like to introduce you into high society but you're required to take lessons to learn how to play the part and from your instructor's perspective it seems like you have a lot of catching up to do. Pairing: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Explicit Language, not really anything else at this point lol a/n: Planning on turning this into a short series so please let me know what you think <3 p.s. this is horribly edited and was written in one sitting lol

"Why do I have to suffer the consequences of the decisions you made for this family?" I say chasing after my mother as she walks down the main hallway in our new home. "Y/n becoming a debutant is not a consequence" she says, making her way into the main living room.

"To me it is" I complain, dreading this entire ordeal already. "The whole process only lasts about a year so-" "A year? You expect me to be parade around in pretty dresses and entertain people I have absolutely no interest in just because you decided to marry a rich man? Yeah, no I'm not doing it" I say, watching as she takes a seat on the couch waiting for me to tell her my grievances, knowing that I won't back down easily. 

"It's not a huge commitment I promise. You'll have etiquette lessons twice a week, go to a fitting every once in a while and take dance lessons once a week. I'm sure you can sacrifice a few hours out of your week for this. "Your father wa-" "Step father" I cut her off, making my stance on the man known. "Your step father wants to introduce you as his daughter and the best way to do so would be having you come out at a debutant ball" she explains hoping to show me their reasoning behind it. "Oh I'm straight so don't worry I won't be needing a coming out event or anything like that" I say teasing her. 

"Very funny" she says clearly unamused, "I would really appreciate it if you just did this for us, and if you don't want to do it for us then do it for you, for your future. Do you know how pivotal this moment could be for you? A lot of important people go to these balls so if you want to make a name for yourself in this city then that's a great place to start" she says hoping to entice me, showing how this could benefit me as well. "Just think about it, okay?" she says standing up to leave the room and placing a hand on my shoulder as a sign of reassurance, leaving me conflicted. 

A few days later at the breakfast table I finally decide to give them my answer. "Um, dad" I say hoping to get his attention. "Yes honey?" he says putting down the newspaper that he had just been flipping through. "I think I want to go through with the whole debutant thing if you still wanted me to" I say playing with my sleeve, still unsure of the choice I've made but I guess theres no going back now. "That's great! I'll contact the agency and get all of your lessons set up straight away" he says quickly texting his assistant, asking them to get things set in motion.

"Would you prefer private lessons or would you like to take them with some of the other girls that are preparing to come out as well?" he questions, still looking down at his phone. "Oh it's okay don't worry about getting her pri-" "Private lessons would be great" I say cutting my mom off. The less interactions I can have with these spoiled rich kids, the better. I send her a tight lipped smile, telling her to back off before I change my mind and she does just that. 

"Alright, I have Matthew working on it now so we could probably get everything set up by the time your classes end. You finish up at four right?" he asks, catching me off guard, "You know my class schedule?" I question. "Of course I do! What kind of father would I be if I didn't pay attention to my daughter's academics?" he says, giving me a warm smile before taking one last sip of his coffee, standing up to go. 

"I've gotta head off, love you" he says giving my mother a quick peck and then coming over to me to give me a kiss on the top of my head. "Have a good day you two" he says to us as his final adieu, heading out to where his driver is waiting for him. "Thank you" my mother says, happy with the effort I'm putting into assimilating our family. "I'm doing this for you guys, but I'm also doing this for me like you had said, I guess I'll just have to suffer through it for the next year" I say, already questioning myself. 

"I promise you won't regret it!" she reassures me, reaching out for my hand across the table and I mirror her action. 'I sure hope not' I say to myself and give her a pained smile before leaving to head off to class. 

"You're what?" my friend Jesse say, not believing a word I just said. "I'm gonna start taking lessons to become a debutante" I say, repeating myself, hoping he'll just take in the information so we can move past it. "So you're blowing me off so you can go to Barbie school?" he says, still in disbelief. "It's not Barbie school" I say rolling my eyes at him before sitting down at the table we usually hang out at during our breaks. 

"Aren't they going to be dressing you up and making you all girly so you can go to tea parties and balls?" he questions, sitting across from me. "Yes..." I say trailing off not being able to prove him wrong. "Barbie school" he says satisfied with himself, taking a bite out of the apple he had just bought for dramatic affect. "Whatever" I say crossing my arms across my chest. "So when do you start?" he asks, suddenly curious about the topic. "Matthew sent me a text with the address I'm supposed to go to for my first etiquette lesson so I guess I'll be headed there after class. 

"And Matthew is...?" he questions, "My dad's assistant, I've told you this like five times already" I say rolling my eyes at him. "I'm sorry okay, there have been a lot of changes in your life and brand new characters added to the cast so it's hard to keep it all straight" he explains. "Name one other person besides Matthew that I've told you about" I say with a raised brow, curious as to who these 'new characters' might be. "Your step dad" he says proudly, not elaborating further. 

"Anyone else?" I ask, rolling my eyes at the cop out answer he gave me and he decides to sit in silence after putting little to no thought into anyone else I might've told him about. "Do you even know his name?" I scoff, feigning irritation. "Scott? No Thomas!" he says confident in his second answer. "It's James" I say standing up and grabbing my stuff so I can walk towards my next class. 

"I'm sorry, you know I have shit memory" he says throwing his arm around my shoulder after catching up to me, having only been a few steps behind. "I know" I shake my head laughing it off, "It's funny how clueless you are sometimes" I say, shrugging his arm off of me. "Hey!" he whines, semi offended. "It's okay though, I still love you" I say waving him off as we part in different directions and blowing a kiss at him which he bats off to the side, rejecting my love. "Later loser" he says and we head off to our respective classes.

After the lecture is finally over my professor calls me to the front. "Yes?" I question, waiting for what he has to tell me. "I read your paper last night" he starts, "I'm sorry Professor I had some other assignments due at the same time so I wasn't able to put in as much effort as I wanted to" I confess feeling guilty about putting that assignment on the back burner. "Well I was actually going to tell you that I was rather impressed with it" he says looking up at me from his seated position at his desk, fixing his glasses. 

"Really?" I question, surprised that it was good enough for him to even single out. "I wanted to ask if you would be interested in participating in this writing contest at the end of next month" he proposes and hands me the flyer showing all of the details. "You really think my writing is good enough?" I question, not even having considered signing up for something like this. "I wouldn't be speaking to you about it if I didn't think it was" he says laughing at my reactions. 

"This would be amazing thank you!" I say starting to skim through the details real quick. "You can take that with you if you'd like" he offers and at that I nod in thanks and say my goodbyes before walking out and heading out towards my car. 

"Now where exactly is this place?" I ask myself aloud, pulling up the text I got and putting the address into my gps. "45 minutes?" I say in astonishment, now slightly panicked seeing that even if I leave now I'll still be 10 minutes late. "What the hell Matthew?" I curse and put my seatbelt on, speeding out of the parking lot and down the street, praying that I'll be able to somehow shave a few minutes off the eta to make it in time.

"Punctuality is one of the most important aspects of proper etiquette" I hear the man say to me with his back turned as I walk into the area of his home he has dedicated to these lessons. "I'm very sorry I did not realize how far these lessons would be in relation to my University" I apologize hating that I've already made a bad impression which has clearly started us off on the wrong foot. 

"Proper planning is also something you must consider to be able to maintain a certain sense of decorum before arriving to your intended destination" he says still with his back to me. "I apologize again Mr. Jeon it won't happen again" I say using what I hope is the proper way he would like to be addressed. "See that it doesn't" he says finally turning around to face me. I nod my head in acknowledgement and he gives me a sour look showing he's displeased with my response. 

"One must verbally respond to properly communicate with one another" he says, placing his hands behind his back and interlocking his fingers while walking towards me and stalking around me like a predator sizing up his prey. "Understood" I respond and once he finally comes back around facing me he looks me up and down one last time before uttering another word. 

"For your next lesson be sure to come in a dress or skirt that sits at the knee as well as stockings and heels of some sort and a blouse of course to pair with the skirt. If one wants to act like a lady, one must dress like a lady" he says and turns away to grab something in the corner of the room. "Noted" I say under my breath already exasperated, "What was that?" he questions looking over his shoulder at me, sorting through a few books to bring over. "Understood Mr. Jeon" I say, trying to play along and follow his rules.

"Seeing as we need to start from the very beginnings of the art of etiquette I need you to read these books by this time next week" he says handing me five very large books weighing my arms down and requiring me to stumble back to regain my balance. "All of them in a week? That's almost a book a day!" I say surprised by the workload I've been given after not even starting the actual lesson yet.

"I was not aware of the fact I would be required to teach you everything from the very start so let's just say we both have a lot of work to do" he says and motions towards a place I can set my purse down along with my five new headaches for this next week.

"Take a seat here please" he now motions to a chair that he has placed in the middle of the room waiting for me to do as he says. I walk up cautiously and take a seat, sitting on it like I normally would, knowing that he's meant to critique how I sit to change it. "Sit up straight, roll your shoulders back" he says taking in my posture at all angles while I follow along with his orders. "Loosen the tension in your back and shoulders" he says placing his hands on my shoulders from behind making me tense up even more from the unexpected contact. 

"You've done the opposite of what I've asked you to" he says and I can hear how fed up with me he continues to be. "You startled me, I didn't realize you were going to do that" I say under my breath but loud enough for him to hear. "One must never mumble or talk back to anyone no matter the circumstances. Especially aimed to or in front of an authority figure" he says and walks back around to face me again. "So you see yourself as an authority figure to me?" I question, curious to see what his answer might be.

"I see myself as someone who deserves your respect and obedience" he says and tilts my chin up with his pointer finger maintaining purposeful eye contact. "And you will treat me as such". 

prev / next

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @00frenchfries00 @bangtans-momma @coralmusicblaze @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater @marvelbun @j3nni-rs @evidive @beomieboi @forevrglow @jesssssmaybankk @teugiie @chaconnelatte @whoa-jo @snehal @xumyboo @mindurbuzznezz @diorh0seokie

Join my Taglist!

Feel free to fill out the form or comment below to be added :)

[ros3ybabe]

Daily Check-in: April 3rd, 2024 🎀

Today was a weird day. My anxiety was off the walls, and I think it's because that time of the month decided to occur, which is throwing me way off. Birth control has made that not happen for 2 years so, I was definitely caught off guard. (omg I hope that's not tmi, it's just something I gotta deal with again as a woman)

🩷 What I Accomplished Today:

Reviewed Spanish Busuu Chapters 6 and 7

Reviewed all flashcards once fully through

listened to one podcast episode in spanish

completed question set about renal nutrition from my dietitian mentor

met with an advisor regarding adding a 2nd major in finance

met with my advisor and got some good advice before adding the 2nd major

emailed the director of the Dietetic program at my college to schedule a meeting

wrote chemistry notes (need to finish and catch up with this week - I've missed both lectures)

completed a chemistry homework assignment

planned tasks for tomorrow

met with dietitian mentor

scrubbed my toilet clean

🩷 Good Things That Happened:

got an extension on my chem lab report

got confirmation of taking a make up quiz for my psyc class

took an hour nap

got excused from lecture and lab today (going to make it up tomorrow)

met most of my goal tasks

my meetings with the advisors went really well

got to talk to my dad per usual, and he was supportive of the 2nd major stuff

my boyfriend was supportive of my 2nd major stuff

met a super cute blue heeler puppy that was so cute and friendly, tho she did cut my thumb slightly but it's okay cause she's just a puppy

got 7k steps in today

🩷 What Could've Been Better:

could've managed my anxiety a bit better

could've been more productive instead of doing my "productive procrastination"

need to stop trying to do academic things while sitting in bed

need to stop trying to stay awake when I randomly wake up at 4am

need to drink more water, for sure

need to work on better nutrition

Today was a weird day. But that's okay. Weird days do happen. I know now what made it weird, and I'll adapt.

Til next time lovelies 🩷

[leonardalphachurch]

GOOGLE SEARCH: HOW TO TALK TO OTHER DADS REDDIT

Lavernius Tucker and Oliver "North" Dakota are two single fathers forced to brave their most difficult challenge as a dad yet: making small talk with other parents. Not many survive this harrowing ordeal, but the bonds forged through this traumatic experience create lifelong friendships. Or, perhaps, even something more...?

A modern single dads Tucker/North AU written for @rvbrarepairweekdos Day 3: AUs. Warnings for discussions of sex/masturbation, but no actual sexual content.

I don't know why I wrote this, either. I don't even ship this. I suppose the wheel compelled me...

Also avaliable to read on Ao3.

***

“Sooo, uh, what do you… do with your time?"

“Oh, I’m a pediatric dentist.”

“No, I know that, I meant, uh,” This sucked. Tucker had zero things in common with these parents at this School for Gifted Children that had scouted Junior earlier this year. Most of them barely gave him the time of day, but this guy, Oliver Dakota, was insistent on staying the entire time his kid was hung out with Junior. After multiple false starts, Tucker shamefully ducked away for a second to look up ‘HOW TO TALK TO OTHER DADS REDDIT’ and found, “I meant, what do you do with your free time?”

“Oh,” North smiled warmly at the other man, then looked back to the door to Junior’s room. Left open a crack— he would have preferred it to be open all the way, but Lavernius had insisted the kids be given privacy. He seemed like a genuine and nice man, if a little awkward. North appreciated him and Theta being allowed into his home. Still, he wasn’t that interested in talking; compromising on the door meant he needed to keep a closer ear out for if Theta needed him. “I don’t really have much free time. With a kid and work, it’s like two full time jobs. But it’s all worth it for Theta.”

“Right.” God, this guy was giving Tucker nothing. Every single topic went back to Theta. And Tucker loved his kid, but being a single dad meant so much of his life was already dedicated to him. If he was talking to another adult he at least wanted to talk about something adult for once. “You gotta do something with your time, though. You into sports?”

“Haven’t really kept up with any lately. Theta was on the soccer team when they were younger, but we’ve decided to focus on academics in middle school.”

“Okay… Watched any good TV lately?”

“I mostly just catch snippets of whatever cartoon Theta has on.”

“……..Do you play games?”

“Oh, Theta had me join them in playing a little farm game— what’s it called, star, starting… ‘Starting Farming?’ No, no, it’s definitely ‘star’… ‘Starry Farmy?’”

“Stardew Valley?”

“That’s it! Do you play it? It’s very cute.”

“Yeah, uh, not, really my type of game. What about stuff you do without your kid?”

“Ah,” That was kind of a strange question. Most conversations North had with other parents were all about their kids— mostly trying to constantly one up the other’s accomplishments. To ask about things that he did without Theta? Why did he even care about that? “Well, I read alone?"

“Awesome! What are you reading?” Tucker didn’t give a shit about books, but he would grasp onto literally anything this dude was offering.

“Mostly child psychology books. Though lately it’s been a lot YA novels. I try to read things Theta is interested before they do so we can have discussions about them. And to make sure there’s nothing too inappropriate for their age.”

Tucker was stunned. This guy could not be serious. Was everything about his kid? “Don’t you do things with your friends?”

“Ahh,” North’s smile got a little tighter. “We had to move away from my hometown a few years ago; the schools there weren’t great for Theta, and then they got accepted here…”

“You haven’t had friends for years?”

“I have friends.” North was taken aback. What kind of person asked something like that so bluntly?

“But you don’t spend time with them.”

“I… see them often enough. When I visit home. For the holidays.” North didn’t know why he felt so defensive over this.

“Do you…” Tucker hesitated, not wanting to overstep with a guy he barely knew but also fucking floored at what this dude’s life seemed to be, “do anything for yourself that isn’t about your kid?”

North balked. “Of course I do! And, the- this question is flawed. Taking care of Theta is something I do for myself.”

“You can’t just only live for your kid, dude. There’s shit you gotta do without them.”

North twitched a little at the swear word. “There’s nothing I want to do that I would need to exclude Theta from.”

“What about sex?”

“SHHHHH!!” North panickedly looked over at the door, “Lower your voice if you’re talking about that!” He half yelled, half whispered.

“Dude. Does your kid not know about sex yet??” Tucker asked, not lowering his voice even slightly.

“Of course Theta knows what sex is!” North said, still whispering. “Teaching age appropriate sex education is incredibly important to a child’s understanding of their own body and safety. Theta knows exactly what leading child psychologists recommended an 11 year old knowing.”

“Okay.” Jesus Christ. This dude needed help bad.

North frowned. He could feel the judgement coming from Lavernius. Other parents always thought they could butt into situations that didn’t concern them. “I do not need your input on how I take care of my child.”

“I don’t care about how you take care of your kid, man, I care about how you take care of your you.”

“What?” North had no idea what he meant by that.

“Have you had sex a single time since Theta was born?”

“What?!” Seriously, how could he just ask something like that?

“You know what, not even sex. When was the last time you jerked off? Please tell me you’ve had an orgasm in the past decade.”

“This- this is a highly inappropriate conversation to be having with our kids in the other room” North had no idea how they ended up here, but he desperately wanted to move on.

“Not even once?”

“I don’t want Theta to overhear this conversation.”

“They’re playing a game, they’re not gonna hear, trust me. Kids don’t listen to their parents talking even when you want them to, they don’t give a shit what adults say to each other.”

“Theta listens to me.”

“Uh huh.” They needed to move away from the topic of their kids. Tucker needed to help this man. “Listen to me, man. I need you to do something for me.”

“What?”

Tucker grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. Or at least, he tried to. God, this man was way too fucking tall. And actually looking into his eyes— Jesus, they were piercing. Tucker didn’t think this kind of blond hair blue-eyed motherfucker actually existed. Terrifying.

“Tonight, when you go home, once you do whatever weird nighttime ritual you do to put Theta to bed,” Oliver started to make a noise in disagreement but Tucker pushed past it, “I need you to go to your room. I need you to be alone. I need you to get comfortable. And I need you to jack off.”

North had no fucking idea how to respond to that.

“Trust me. I have a friend, his girlfriend died, right? And for like a year afterwards he was so fucking miserable. Until one day I was like, ‘You NEED to blow off some steam, if you know what I mean. Bow chicka bow wow.’ Next day he was like a new man.”

“I don’t. know.“ North thought there were probably some other reasons his friend may have been miserable, there.

“I know, you’ve been out of the game, you don’t know how to find good porn. I got you, I’ll send you some.”

“I wasn’t—“

“I got you.” Tucker was already pulling out his phone, thinking of some good beginner porn he could send Oli’s way. “What are you into? You seem kinda vanilla but sometimes vanilla looking chicks are into the weirdest shit, y’know?”

“That’s— I don’t— this isn’t— I’m. Gay.” That wasn’t really something North tended to share with other parents, but they were so far outside of the kinds of conversations he tended to have anyway, any normal ways to respond had completely left his brain.

“You’re—” Tucker looked him up and down. Huh. Maybe he should’ve been able to guess that. “Uh. That’s fine. I have gay shit I can send you.”

“You have gay shit.” Right. Okay. North was pretty sure he just swore for the first time in years. What the fuck was happening?

“Yeah, y’know, I’m… uh, it doesn’t matter what I am. But I can get whatever you want.”

“Okay.” Okay. North’s brain was starting to catch up to where they were. Was Lavernius… flirting with him? Was this what flirting was now? He was so lost.

He should probably set a boundary.

“I… do not want you to send me porn.”

“Okay,” Tucker said, putting his phone back in his pocket. “You got it handled yourself?”

“Yes, I,” North let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, “I can handle myself.”

“Good. ‘Cause the shit you were saying before was sad, man. I know we barely know each other but, c’mon, single dads gotta have each others backs, right?”

“Yeah, um. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Tucker smiled at him.

North liked his smile.

(continued in reblogs)

[thechillsquid]

Weird Grunkles- Blind Eyes Au

Little Drabble writing for the au cause I can

—

Dipper stared long and hard at one of their puesdo-grunkles, Bill, for what felt like an hour before he finally couldn’t stop himself from speaking, “How in the world did you get up there? More importantly, why?”

Bill was by far one of the weirdest people Dipper had come to know since coming to Gravity Falls, only really being beaten by Toby Determined by just barely. The guy was of an average build, about a head shorter than Stan (and just as wrinkly), with strange tattoos along his arms and legs that the boy was about 90% changed daily.

It took a moment to actually get a response, Bill staring back through his curtain of white-streaked curls before shrugging, “Squirrels were looking at me funny, kid, someone’s gotta chase em off.”

The preteen quietly repeated that to himself before asking slowly, “Are you… like stuck up there?”

He got a beaming, almost painfully wide, grin, showing off one golden canine and the gap between the older man’s front teeth. “Perhaps!”

Really Dipper couldn’t fathom half the shit he saw Bill do, espically when he was apparently older than Stan and Fiddleford (and trying to get any answers about any of the three’s ages was a nightmare he’d long given up on trying to figure out). The guy wasn’t exactly strong like Stan or much of an academic like Fidds, but he was sly and scarily insightful. As well as probably insane, seeing as he was most definitely pushing 50 years of age at the least and still got into situations like this.

This wasn’t even the first time this week that Dipper had spotted the guy in a spot where no one should be, like on top of the totem pole or balanced in tree branches. It was weird and unnerving and Dipper was fairly certain the guy wasn’t actually human.

“I’ll get a ladder…”

“Ask Specs, good ole Fez’s got a fear of heights,” Bill practically spoke in a sing-song, settling down so his back was against the tree’s trunk now. “Thanks, kid!”

Dipper just nodded slowly and went to find grunkle Fidds.

This town was so weird…

[tieronecrush]

꒰ა ONLY ANGEL ໒꒱

javier peña x f!reader

chapter one: sweet temptations

series masterlist

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

summary: After his return to the US, Javier is trying to settle back into a normal life without the pressures of Colombia and the DEA, but he finds himself feeling isolated with no one to spend his nights with. Now a newly appointed criminology professor at Texas A&M, he is drawn to you, a post-grad student in one of his classes. You’re intelligent and witty, sweet and kind, and he can’t get you out of his mind. To cope with his growing loneliness and to rid himself of thoughts of you, he signs up for an “arrangement service” to connect him with somebody—a sugar baby—he can care for. After he is matched up with Angel, he finds himself developing feelings quicker than he ever expected, but what happens when he finds out Angel is really you?

series warnings: power imbalance (prof and student), sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, discussion of money, criminal activity, judicial systems, graduate school, smut, daddy/papí kink, praise kink, degradation, self deprecation, discussion of self worth, multiple sexual or romantic partners, sex work, cursing, use of spanish, likely more warning so read at your own risk!

word count: 3.8k

a/n: first chapter AHHHH!!! hope you all love, i am not sure if i am doing a taglist yet cause it’s a lot of work tbh so will keep y’all posted <3 and a special thanks to bestie @northernbluess for helping me with this brainchild and always screaming about javi with me. love ya sister wife <3

“Professor Peña! Welcome back, sir. So glad we have you on for another year,” the voice of the Dean of Faculty, Jim Banks, booms in the empty hallway of the Sociology department, a cramped space on the top floor of one of the, luckily, newer buildings on campus. With a large donation made to the university last year, specifically directed to the Sociology department for their ‘advancements in the field and hiring top talent’, the department was moved out of the basement and into a space that actually saw the sunlight. And had a decent view of the quad, too.

Javier stops in his tracks in the middle of the hall, turning over his shoulder and giving the man approaching behind him a strained, polite smile. He hikes the strap of his chestnut leather messenger bag further onto his shoulder, the itch of his brand new button-down scratching against his skin.

“Dean Banks, good to see you,” he sounds clipped, but Javier has always had a hard time hiding his impatience and annoyance.

“Please, Peña, like I’ve said, call me Jimmy! No need for formalities, buddy.” The dean slaps Javi’s shoulder when he reaches him, and Javier clenches his fist at his side. The whole buddy-buddy Southern thing never roped him in, and certainly not after he was made privy to what a boys’ club the academic world was.

Javier has been a professor for 6 months at Texas A&M University, based at their San Antonio campus, and has taught primarily undergraduate classes for the first semester and summer session that he was on the faculty roster. Hired into the Sociology Department after job-hunting for something to fill his time after retiring. Well, he technically resigned after the nightmare that was Cali, but he negotiated to keep his extremely cushy government pension. Never needed to work another day in his life, but damn he was getting bored. Even his Pop nearly kicked him out to get him to do something other than roaming the field of the ranch and camping out to watch the boats.

Those damn boats.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Dean Ba—Jimmy?” He takes one step back, out from under the man’s hand on his shoulder, and straightens up, grip tightening on the strap of his bag.

“Well, I do gotta favor to ask you, Peña. See, Professor Harrison has had some…extraneous circumstances that have kept him from coming back to the department this semester, and likely next semester. So, I was coming down here to ask if you would be willing to take on his graduate-level course for the semester, and possibly his next semester too. It’s Sociology of Deviance, and by god, you were the first person I thought of to fill in, ya deviant!” Banks gets a good laugh out of his own joke, the effort falling flat for Javier. He waits out the man’s reaction to his own humor, clearing his throat to attempt to egg him on and end the conversation earlier.

“So, what d’ya say, Peña? Think you can manage instructing that course? Syllabus and everything is already planned, just have to have someone actually teach the material and grade everything.”

“Uh, yeah, that would be fine. I’ll check in with Beth at the department’s front desk to get access to Professor Harrison’s material for the course,” he nods to the dean and starts to turn away, ready to retreat to the peace of his private office when Banks’ voice catches his attention again.

“Can’t thank ya enough, Peña. And, uh, try not to get yourself into any of those extraneous circumstances that will be on the class roster, yeah? Don’t want to have to replace you too. We can’t have A&M losing the Big Man on Campus, hey?”

His brows furrow as nods in response, calling out a ‘yes, sir’ as he finally starts toward his office again, stopping at the front desk of the department and requesting the materials for the graduate course, complimenting Beth’s nails with a playful wink.

At the click of his office door, he sighs and sets his bag down on the desk, turning around to face the large window overlooking the campus quad with his hands on his hips.

What the hell kind of extraneous circumstances was Dean Banks getting at? Javier’s a professional, his days of bending the rules in his career are over.

The morning goes by quickly and suddenly it’s two o’clock, fifteen minutes until the new lecture he’s been assigned to instruct. He gathers the syllabi that Beth had dropped off an hour earlier, taking his bag with him as he weaves through students in the halls and slips into the lecture hall, descending the wide stairs at the side of the rows of seats. At the start of every class, he prefers to spend the minutes before gathering his thoughts and laying out everything he needs to get covered. Today’s an easy day, the only goals are to hand out and review the syllabus, and to have the students introduce themselves.

At the prompt time of 2:15 pm, Javier clears his throat and quiets the chit-chatting down, looking up for the first time and meeting a set of eyes that dry his throat immediately. Soft, supple lips are quirked up into a smile, tendrils of short bangs framing her face. Her skin looks like velvet, with baby pink rouge on her cheeks, and a swipe of gloss across her bottom lip. His eyes combed down to her open chest, the scoop-neck baby tee emblemed with some band’s name that he didn’t know. When you smile at him, he feels his heart pound and his cock jump, suddenly grateful for the pretentious podium that he is standing behind.

So those are the extraneous circumstances Dean Banks was getting at.

It was the second semester of your two-year Master's program, and you were honestly excited for the first day of classes. Over the summer session, you had taken a couple of courses to get ahead and worked as a Teaching Assistant for one of your old undergraduate professors. It was about four years ago that you graduated, working in Corporate America before deciding to go back to school and pursue your found passion in Criminal Psychology. The Teaching Assistant job paid pitifully, as you should have expected, so you had turned to an external opportunity that quickly, and easily, became profitable for you and allowed for you to quit TA-ing and focus on your studies for this semester.

The first class of the first day is Sociology of Deviance, a class that is scheduled for Monday and Wednesday afternoons. When you registered for the course, the instructor was listed as “To Be Determined” but as a required credit for your degree, you signed up for this semester anyway.

And holy shit, you’re glad you did.

A few minutes after two o’clock, the lecture hall door opened and slowly shut, the man in a baby blue button-up and tailored slacks stalks down the stairs to your right, headed for the desk in front of the green chalkboards. Underneath the tiny laminate surface that swings out from your chair, you cross your legs and sit up, eyes trained on your professor. His dark hair is clean cut, but not too cropped, swept to the side and up away from his face. A strong, full mustache adorns his upper lip, perfectly groomed along with his clean-shaven, sharp jaw. Wide, expansive shoulders strain under the material of his shirt, the top button near the collar undone and his tie slightly tugged down. The silver belt buckle sitting at his waist glistens in the fluorescent lights, one glance given down his legs and then to his muscular arms when he turns around to write his name on the board.

Professor Peña.

No fucking way, you think to yourself, immediately more engaged than his looks had you. The Javier Peña was teaching one of your courses, a name buzzing around campus over the summer, one that you had read about over and over for the last few years while focusing on the World News section of the paper. The DEA agent not only had a part in taking down Pablo Escobar, but he was also the agent who found and arrested Gilberto Rodriguez, a godfather of the Cali Cartel, and eventually took down the rest of the whole organized crime family.

Finally, someone who actually had some experience with crime outside of a courtroom. 

Uncapping the ballpoint pen laid in front of you, you tap it against your chin as you listen to Professor Peña recount his philosophies in teaching. According to him, he prioritizes ethical and principled practices in the field, noting personal experiences he had with the opposite. You vaguely remember a story from the Miami Herald about his involvement with Los Pepes during Escobar, and you could never forget reading about the corruption of not only the Colombian government but the US government during the Cali days. That case — that scandal that he exposed was a big reason you dove back into criminology. You wanted to be a person who would better it for the people under the jurisdictions of the judicial system, as naive as it may sound.

A thick, stapled stack of packets gets dropped onto your desk, eyesight zoning back in to look to your side and face your professor standing next to your chair. He gives a tight smile, nodding his head to your left.

“Please pass these down that way after you take one for yourself.”

Even from that simple statement, his deep, raspy voice has you sucking your teeth, shaking your head to yourself as you pass on the stack of syllabi, and turning your attention to the outline of the semester. As you study the required readings, Professor Peña returns to the front. Another clearing of his throat turns your eyes up, sitting up straight again as you watch him lean back against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest.

“At the beginning of each semester, I like to have everyone go around and introduce themselves. Now, I know you’re all adults and probably don’t want to do this, but it helps me to remember you when I’m grading all your shit,” he gives a closed smile to the room as a rumble of gentle laughter erupts and quickly fades.

“Anyone want to volunteer to go first?” Professor Peña scans the room, interrupted by a brunette guy that looks to be around your age, an eager smile on his face.

“I’ll go first, Professor. My name’s Alex, I’m in the first semester of my first year of law school. Planning to focus on Criminal Law. I went to UT Austin for undergrad. Go Longhorns!” The exclamation gets some applause, you note the lack of reaction from Professor Peña and smiling to yourself.

Thank god he isn’t one of those insufferable college sports obsessed men.

A handful more of your classmates take their turns, and you politely pay attention to each of them, but unable to shake the feeling of eyes on you. One glance toward the front and you catch Professor Peña’s eyes, darting away toward the student speaking and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

If you could read his mind right now, you surely would be dropping the class. Javier can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you, entranced by every angle of your face that he’s given, your head turning to face each of your classmates as they speak. It’s endearing how engaged you seem in learning about your peers, and it snaps him out of the daze for a moment when he realizes that he is really the one that needs to be paying attention to the names being spoken.

The only reprieve he seems to get is when you take your turn to introduce yourself, giving your name to the room and each detail you offer, he automatically categorizes into his brain to remember. In those thirty seconds that you are solely speaking, his gaze is trained on you, watching the pout of your glossy lips as they move together and apart, your tongue hitting behind your teeth and the softly shadowed eyelids that crinkle at the sides when you smile. Something you’ve said makes you laugh a bit, the sound ringing in his ears and pumping his heart faster.

The focus moves from you to the next student to volunteer, but Javier can’t help the lingering of his eyes across your collarbone, sloped shoulder and pen bouncing in between your fingers.

Enamored. Infatuated. Bewitched, even.

God, he shouldn’t be thinking about his student this way. 

But you are so fucking gorgeous. And clearly kind, with the way you focus on everyone speaking, gentle smiles given to everyone. You have to be intelligent, pursuing a Master’s degree. And you seem so delicate, so sweet.

What do you taste like?

Nope, not going there Javier. Sure, he’s lonely, but with a student? After another professor just got caught with one, allegedly?

Before he knows it, every student has given their name and random facts about themselves, and he can finally turn his back to the room to begin writing out the required, upcoming assignments and go over the material that will be covered over the next few months. In the blink of an eye, class is wrapping up and he lets out a long exhale, longing for about two fingers of the whiskey that is sitting in the bottom drawer of his desk.

He leans over the table in front of him, shuffling the extra syllabi together and organizing them into his briefcase while the students funnel out of the lecture hall. Brows furrowed, he sighs when he hears footsteps approaching, glancing up to see that little band t-shirt he noticed before, now the view of a dark evergreen, black, and hints of yellow plaid and pleated skirt with legs extending from the mid-thigh hem, and suddenly he’s standing up a bit too quickly to acknowledge your approach.

“Excuse me, Professor Peña?” you ask, saccharine and well-mannered.

“How can I help you?” he responds, not managing to hold back the grin that ticks up one side of his mouth.

“I wanted to properly introduce myself to you,” you give him your name with your hand stretched out, “I know it sounds kiss-ass, but I am really excited to be able to take a course from you. It’s cool to have a non-lawyer professor in criminology courses.”

“I appreciate that,” he slips his palm against your outstretched hand, shaking it and noting your firm handshake, “Hopefully, I live up to your expectations as a professor. Not sure if I will have as good of a grip on the material as Professor Harrison would’ve, this is my first time teaching this class.”

You drop his hand and wave off his concern, a smile still plastered on your face. It’s not forced, by any means, he can see it’s a genuine expression which has his insides stirring again.

“I’m sure you will exceed expectations, especially if the reviews from my graduate cohort have told me anything.” The statement is punctuated with a faint laugh, echoed by Javi as he tilts his head in questioning.

“Glad to hear that I am… well-liked?”

“You could say that, Professor Peña,” you raise your eyebrows with a curl of your lips, nodding slowly, “Well, I should let you get back to your office. Looking forward to the semester.”

“Nice to meet you,” he repeats your name, “And be sure to read your syllabus.”

You turn around as you climb up the stairs of the lecture hall, wide smile, “Oh, I always do my homework, Professor Peña. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Luckily during syllabus week, Javier’s workload is light enough to stay on top of his emails and be able to plan ahead for the next few weeks when things will start to ramp up and assignments will be due.

In his office the next morning, he’s in the midst of slowly working through his short to-do list before his class at one o’clock. With a familiar chime from the clunky machinery on his desk, he turns to the screen and clicks open the tab with his university email address. A new message is in his inbox, one from a student. He starts to skim the message to look for questions asked, thinking to himself as he shakes his head with a disbelieving scoff.

A student already emailing? It’s the first fucking week, c’mon kid, let up and have a little fun during syllabus w—

Oh, wait, it’s you. From his graduate course yesterday afternoon. The student off to the left, with the sweet smile and doe eyes, tight t-shirt and juicy lips.

What would they look like around him?

Jesus Christ, Javier. Get your shit together. A student. That is what you are, and all that you can be.

At least until you graduate.

Shut up, Peña!

He argues back and forth with himself, the angel and devil on his shoulders both making convincing arguments. Physically shaking himself out of the thoughts, he focuses back on your actual message, fully reading it now and chuckling to himself when it’s simply a message about a mistake in the syllabus.

One of the readings is listed with the wrong author, but of course, with how amiable and courteous you are, it’s phrased as a question rather than flat out telling him it’s wrong. Something along the lines of “Sorry Professor, but did I get this wrong…”

He’s not offended, he didn’t write the syllabus, and even if he did, he still would feel no qualms about being corrected where it was due.

There’s a flash of something in his chest, the smallest bit of anger when he thinks about you drafting this email to him, likely nervous you’d get a shitty response back. He knows the type of shit his colleagues say to their female students, and it grates on him every time. Typing up a reply to you, he answers the question concisely. The cursor blinks for a minute on the screen, deciding whether or not to finish off the message with some words of encouragement or not.

Quickly, he adds ‘And please, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. Clearly you know your stuff, and I could use some help with navigating this new course.’ Adding his signature, he hits send before he can give it another thought.

Exiting out of the window, an ad pops up onto his desktop. Javier moves his mouse to hover over the ‘X’ button, the baby pink banner catching his attention.

Sweet Temptations.

Curiosity gets the best of him and he clicks through to the website, licking his lips when he’s greeted with a logo design that features the silhouette of a woman as the ‘T’.

Javier is lonely.

He moved away from Laredo, where his father resides on the family ranch, the only familiar piece of the US that he was eager to return to. That excitement for the slow life burned out quickly, angst settling in and keeping him on edge — those damn boats.

Chucho encouraged the move, the job, the lifestyle change. Something busier to keep his mind and body occupied, left active enough to forget about the news from over the border, the runs happening right behind his family’s land.

Sure, Laredo is a short drive away, but the distance from family and the few friends he has at home, plus no informants to spend his evenings with, Javier has become decidedly lonely. And these days, he is open to any means of companionship.

For a few minutes, Javi pokes around the site, reading about the matching process for men “seeking arrangements” that “avoid the complications of traditional dating”.

From what he can gather, it’s a place to find a sugar baby. And as a man who was — honestly is supportive of sex work (if this even counts as sex work?), he isn’t above paying for an arrangement that will work for him. Traditional dating hasn’t given him much luck, too many expectations put on him upfront, and too big of a jump to be made that he isn’t quite adjusted for. 

All of this logic is leading him to the sign up tab, filling out his information. He creates a new email address for this purpose, choosing a simple ‘javip@hotmail.com’. The rest of the form is a simple questionnaire, looking to get the gist of what he’s looking for out of this arrangement and what kind of woman he typically goes for.

He hovers over one question: ‘Are you looking for a relationship that will be sexually active?’. It’s a check of ‘yes’ or ‘no’, and suddenly the back of his neck is burning with a hint of shame as he selects ‘yes’.

After the rest of it is answered, he submits it.

If this goes nowhere, hey, at least he tried.

In the exact same spot a week later, Javier is slumped in his chair at his large desk, the sleeves of his button up rolled up to expose his forearms as he does the reading for his own class, preparation for Sociology of Deviance tomorrow afternoon.

Last week, at the second meeting of the cohort, he was impressed by your analysis of the first reading assignment, joking with you after you hit all the key points that ‘you could come up here and teach and give him a break’. That same jolt of energy from last Monday passed through him when you smiled bashfully at him, actively listening for the rest of the lecture. Before he could pull you to compliment you again, you were up the stairs and out the door, a tiny piece of notebook paper left behind. He stalks up to the desk you were at, picking up the scrap and grinning to himself when he sees a doodle of yours. It’s him, it has to be with the prominent ‘stache and eyebrows, his characteristically accurate head floating on the page. He tucks the drawing into his pocket and leaves for the day, stowing the art piece in the top drawer of his desk.

Today, he flicks the paper around in between his fingers, studying the fluid line work when his computer sings again with an incoming email. With nothing in his work inbox, he checks his new personal one, greeted with an excitable subject line:

YOU’VE GOT A MATCH!

JaviP & TheOnlyAngel

tagging some peeps that requested it but not sure if i will have a taglist for this series lol: @northernbluess @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsquill @yazsos @cartoon-garbage04 @sugadolly @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

[jackiehicks]

‘Long Distance’

Wyatt Lykensen X Reader

request: wyatt lykensen x reader and they're sitting alone together at lunch and she's just admiring his long hair and they're both flirting and giggling and all of their friends are watching from afar because they all saw it coming.

A/N: this one was so fun to write!!! it’s only a dwtty one in comparison to what i usually write but i hope you guys like it 🫶

words: >1k

content warnings: none!

y/n had been waiting for the first day of school all summer, which was rare. she wasn’t particularly academic, very few extracurriculars, her favourite subject was ‘going home’, etc. it’s safe to say that school wasn’t her favourite place in the world, but today it may as well have been.

she had been visiting family in the UK for the summer, meaning that she hadn’t seen any of her friends in weeks. thank god for mobile phones; she’s been able to talk to her friends - and boyfriend - back home.

she had been dating wyatt since they ended up going to the prawn together last year, and the long distance had been pretty tough, but she got back to seabrook last night and was finally seeing him again today. to say she was excited was an understatement.

“hey!” y/n greeted her boyfriend over the phone.

“hey sweetheart, i’m almost at your place. ready to go?” wyatt had insisted on walking to school with her, gentleman that he is.

“yep, just gotta get my shoes on. i’m so excited to see you”

“i know, baby, me too. feels like it’s been forever since i saw you last.”

“ugh, right? i’ll see you soon though, ok?”

“see you soon, sweetheart”

and with a beep, the call ended. y/n grabbed her sneakers and wedged them on her feet. she was doing up her laces when she heard a knock on the door.

“one second!” she called, tying a bow in her lace and heading downstairs.

y/n opened the door, and had to do a double take. it was wyatt for sure, but his hair… he must have grown it out over the summer. y/n was in shock.

“hey stranger!” wyatt engulfed her in a tight hug.

“your hair looks… amazing” y/n stammered without thinking. wyatt laughed, running a hand through his locks.

“you like it? i figured i’d try something new this year.”

“i love it! you look incredible, honey.” y/n felt her face get hot. he looked really good.

“thank you, sweetheart. come on,” wyatt held out a hand for y/n to take, “let’s get going, yeah?”

she nodded, taking his hand and interlocking her fingers with his.

-

lunchtime had come dragging for the students of seabrook. first day of school after summer break was always slow, but y/n could hardly feel time pass. she just couldn’t get her mind off wyatt. don’t get her wrong, she loved his hair before the summer - she thought the white streak was so cute and she liked how he styled it all spiky - but this new, long hair was something else. it framed his face perfectly, the white streak now falling down the right side of his face, curls running through his soft hair… if y/n didn’t fancy him before, she definitely did now.

y/n and wyatt sat together at their usual lunch table, deaf to the world. y/n reached over and ran a hand through wyatt’s hair.

“i really like this.”

“yeah?”

“mhm. don’t like how you hid it from me though.”

“oh, but doesn’t it make such a good surprise?” wyatt teased. y/n scrunched up her nose in mocking.

“you’re lucky it did, because i’d never forgive you for all those rejected video chats otherwise.”

“believe me, sweetheart, that was torture. you don’t think i wanted to see that pretty face of yours?”

y/n blushed, giving wyatt a light push.

“don’t be cute. i’m trying to be mad at you.” y/n reached up once again and started brushing her fingers through wyatt’s hair, gearing up to start braiding whatever chunk of it she could reach.

“yeah, you’re doing a great job at that.”

“hey, i’m mad at you - not your hair.”

“oh, sure.” wyatt leaned over and gave his girlfriend a kiss on the cheek.

-

“they know that they’re in public, right?” eliza asked.

“ugh, i know. could they be any more gross?” willa replied.

they were sat a few tables over with the rest of the zombie/werewolf crew that had emerged from last year’s events, unable to take their eyes off the disgustingly loved-up couple.

“come on, guys. they’re in love!” addison interjected, cheerful as ever.

“i think they’re adorable.” bree agreed, equally as perky as her best friend. bonzo uttered something in zombie-tongue.

“you’re right, their food is gonna go cold,”eliza replied, “and seabrook cafeteria food isn’t particularly hot anyway, it’s gonna be inedible.”

“they’re too busy making goo-goo eyes at eachother, i don’t think they’re even gonna eat it.” wynter piped up, “ooh - if they don’t eat their lunch, do you think they’ll let me have it?”

“you guys don’t pick on addison and i like this, do you?” zed started, throwing a defensive arm around his girlfriend.

“nah, you guys are nowhere near this gross.” responded willa.

and with that, the end-of-lunch bell rang. the gang could see y/n pout, grabbing hold of her boyfriend’s hand and making their way over to their table.

“hey guys, what are you talking about?” y/n smiled.

“oh… nothing.” zed replied, smirking.

“can i have your lunch? you didn’t eat it.” wynter interjected.

“sure,” wyatt answered, passing a slice of pizza to his friend, “knock yourself out.”

bonzo reached over, poked the pizza, and nodded. it was cold. wynter growled. no one touches her pizza, even if it wasn’t hers to start with.

“i’m taking y/n on a froyo date after school, so we’re fine with no lunch.” wyatt snaked an arm around his girlfriend’s waist, pulling her in close and kissing the top of her head.

“see you guys in class!” y/n piped up, waving bye-bye and making her way to her next lesson, wyatt still attached to her hip.

“i, for one, think they make a perfect couple.” addison smiled, watching her friends walk out of the cafeteria. zed planted a kiss on her forehead.

“not as perfect as us though, right?”

[hatsukeii]

"WE ARE THE BLOOD IN OUR...WAS IT VEINS OR ARTERIES AGAIN?" / T. KUROO

#3. COFFEE AT TIFFANY'S | M.LIST | PREV. | NEXT. |

warning(s): biology, mention of vomit, caffeine addiction and awful, awful life habits, don't do anything the tutor does in this i beg you please

wc: ~2.1k

"Long black for you, and hot chocolate for the mister, right?"

The barista winks as he slides two mugs across the counter, two drinks of differing degrees of brown swirling and frothing at the surface. Kuroo watches as you hold the coffee to your lips, taking a swig without so much as blowing at the steam that emanates from the mug. His fingers tug at the handle of his mug, other hand holding his head as he turns to stare at his more childish choice of hot chocolate. When he hears the knock of ceramic on wood, and your lips smacking together once, then twice, Kuroo finally lifts his own mug to his mouth, hissing at the thick liquid that burns along his tongue and throat, and he wonders how you could stomach something as bitter as black coffee, when the bitterness is a second displeasure to the taste buds after the scalding heat.

"So, y/n, you into anything in particular?"

"If you wanna ask about volleyball for the third time, the answer is still no." Kuroo's pathetic attempt at engaging in conversation backfires once again, and he curls his fingers into the handle of his mug tighter. He needs an opening to figure out your weakness, so he can pry it open until you let your grip on academic excellence loose.

"No, just anything in particular."

A droning hum sounds from your pursed lips as your wrist rotates above a spoon that stirs at coffee aimlessly. Anything in particular... you're not too sure of what intrigues you either. Coffee? You've always wanted to learn how to make drip coffee, but never had the time to watch liquid fall into a flask for hours on end. Maybe music? The guitar from last Christmas is collecting dust in the corner of your room, untouched for the past year and only ever plucked at to study the way its strings oscillate in standing waves. Your wrist stops moving when you come to realise a grave problem- you don't really have the energy to be into anything at all nowadays.

"I used to be, not so much now. Volleyball wouldn't be a bad idea, though."

Kuroo's head snaps towards you, his beloved sport finally piquing some semblance of interest from your unfeeling facade as you take another gulp of your black coffee. The thought of exploiting your interests flees his brain as it is replaced with a set of new questions. Should he bring up the pep talk now to veer the conversation? No, it's too risky, you'd kick him out of your sessions for someone who's serious about biology, and then he'll never get the badass speech he's been putting himself through torture for. Is it still worth humiliating himself in your sessions? He thinks so. If you manage to make it through biology with flying colours, then so can he. So, Kuroo settles for the next best thing.

"Well, it's actually really fun if you gi-"

"Need the bathroom, gotta piss. I'll be back."

You scuttle out of your seat, hopping off the stool and leaving Kuroo in the dust. He sighs, taking a sip at his chocolate, which has finally cooled enough to uncover the silky sweetness that lies beneath its scalding touch.

You go for a piss a total of six more times in the hour following your return from the first bathroom break. Kuroo finishes his chocolate in the silence of your presence, and the silence of your absence.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Kuroo watches you from the two-seater table as you return from the bathroom, and hover over the counter across the cafe to grab at two drinks. Your usual seats are occupied by a bickering couple, whose hands are linked by the pinkies beneath the cool concrete counter as they point and snicker at each other. He can see the corners of your eyes crinkle at every word the barista says, and when your hands place the two drinks down to chat for a little longer, he wants to curse at you for wearing his patience thin. What’s so funny? You barely know the guy anyways, so how is normal talk coming to you so easily? Kuroo wonders if by the time he’s utterly destroyed you in chemistry, you would see him enough as an equal to consider bringing up something even a little interesting to talk about.

“Here’s your chocolate..!” Your voice ticks upwards towards the end of your sentence, as you offer a thick mug of hot chocolate to Kuroo.

“Do you know the guy?”

You shrug, gently placing down a steaming latte onto the table. Kuroo takes a peek at the milky brown that foams at the surface, and offers you a packet of sugar from a wooden box on the side. To his surprise, you pluck it from his fingers with a quick “thank you,” and empty it into the mug, stirring the sucrose into your coffee and tapping your teaspoon against the rim with a tink.

"Nah, he just recognised me from this morning, so we had a chat. Nothing major." Your eyes crinkle as you grin into the latte, taking a sip and swallowing it with an ah! Awfully cheery for a person who specialises in cutting Kuroo down like an axe to a tree.

"This morning?"

"Yeah, I grabbed another this morning too."

And out comes the truth.

"You are addicted."

"No, I'm not. I can do just fine without it."

Kuroo scoffs, obnoxiously sucking air in as he sips at his chocolate and eyes you from the horizon of his mug. You roll your eyes, and do the same with your coffee. The couple from the cement counter finally leaves, this time their arms are linked as they mock each other's voices.

"Two coffees in a day sounds like an addiction to me."

"Well, it keeps me awake."

"Only because the caffeine replaces adenosine and blocks reception temporarily. Your own words from today."

You smile at the shameless regurgitation of short term memory Kuroo spews, waving your spoon in circles like some wand.

"See, the coffees are worth it. You're starting to get the hang of this topic."

Kuroo makes a sound, one that curves like a question mark. Something pulls at his chest, and he knows something has gone wrong as he watches you point at him with the spoon, wiggling your eyebrows. He doesn't understand a word of what he has just said, and only knows the pronunciation from hearing you say it over and over again twenty minutes prior. Something about hormones, and glands, and a bunch of other stuff that he swears he'll fully understand. Someday.

"What?" That comes out more like a judgemental drone than he intended it to.

"The notes, they're good right? Said you were bad at hormones and all the other day, and I didn't have notes that were easy enough to understand, so I remade them last night."

You take another swig at your latte, and Kuroo can do nothing but stare, silence taking over the noise of his bickering. He only said hormones to joke about his recent acne outbreak.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

"No chocolate today?" The usual barista offhandedly comments at the new order that graces the counter.

"Nope, just the matcha, and the latte, thanks."

"I assume the matcha is yours?"

Kuroo shakes his head, nudging it in your direction. The barista peeks over his shoulder to see your hunched figure, a mess of hair lying motionless on the concrete surface. Kuroo's condition isn't much better, dark bags lining the underside of his eyes as he slides the drinks towards his seat, waving the barista off and sitting beside you.

"Rough night?"

"Understatement."

"Understood."

The brown liquid swirls alluringly in Kuroo's mug as he rips open two packets of sugar, and empties their contents into his latte. If he's understood his studying from last night correctly, small doses of caffeine should, by all means, compensatorily increase adenosine content within the body, which stimulates circulating chemoreceptors. He can only hope that it all works the same on a coffee virgin. The first sip is odd, the combination of tooth-achingly sweet sugar and scalding, putrid coffee is certainly eye opening, but not half-bad. The second sip nullifies all effects of sugar, and all Kuroo is left with is the acidic aftertaste of espresso. Never again after today.

He turns to ask you how you could possibly stomach any more caffeine that what is in his watered down, sweetened latte, only to see your empty drink. Bubbles of green settle at the bottom, the ceramic of the mug still steaming as you wipe your mouth lazily on a napkin, before setting your head back down on the counter. From the chapter he studied last night, Kuroo also knows that the theanine in matcha enhances dopamine and glycine release, which should counteract the spike in energy levels that caffeine brings about, and promote relaxation. He isn't sure that it was what you wanted, but he thinks you knew it was what you needed.

"Why the change of heart? Coffee just not doing it anymore?"

You mumble into your arms at his question, legs still wobbly and numb from the usual walk to the cafe as they hang from your stool.

"Can't do any more of it, might blow my guts up."

"See, told you it was an addiction."

Your arm comes up to smack at his shoulder, before dropping back onto the counter lifelessly.

"You try getting three hours of sleep only because you can't stop throwing up."

The matcha does absolutely nothing to get your mind moving again, and you want to punch yourself for it. You cringe at the mistakes you made during the tutoring session beneath your arms; confusing adrenaline with adenosine an embarrassing number of times, losing track of hormonal glands on diagrams that looked more like drawings of a child in your hazy vision, even forgetting what chemoreceptors were. Having to remake notes, study for two upcoming chemistry and biology exams, and somehow be energised enough to teach the next day, you'd be lying if you said this tutoring gig wasn't taking a hefty toll on you.

"That doesn't sound good, y/n."

"It's not, I know. Therefore, matcha."

If the cafe has some sort of furnace, or fireplace, or maybe even a trapdoor, Kuroo would like to jump in right now. This was supposed to be easy, get the pep talk, and go on his merry way.

So what in the world has he roped you, and himself into?

He watches you stir in your cold slumber, the cold counter serving as a pillow. There is no more edge, nothing to shield you from the world. Your words are soft, tired, yet they shoot into Kuroo's chest like bullets of guilt, and he rethinks every decision he's made leading up to this moment.

"You need to rest."

"Then you won't get your notes."

I don't need the stupid notes, but you need the rest. How could I feel satisfied beating you, if I'm only beating you when you're half dead?

Kuroo bites his tongue, and swallows his unspoken words. He takes another sip from his latte.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

"We're not going to coffee."

"Fuck you mean?"

Kuroo pulls his bag from beneath his chair, unzipping it to throw a thermos flask, and a package of baking paper in front of you. You pout at the thermos, the familiar scent of coffee nowhere to be found even as you pick it up and sniff the edges of the lid.

"Eat and drink up."

"I want my coffee, though."

Another thermos comes out of Kuroo's bag, yet the scent of caffeine is still glaringly absent. He sighs, twisting open the cap and taking in a mouthful of iced tea and honey. You unwrap the baking paper to reveal a sandwich. Ham and egg, nothing special, tempting nonetheless.

"Yeah no. No coffee. Can't have you half dead and vomiting everywhere."

"When will I get the coffee back then, Kuroo?"

He shrugs, clicking his tongue as he takes another drink out of his thermos. You stuff half the sandwich into your mouth in one go, pillowy bread and creamy egg salad filling your taste buds as you hum in satisfaction. If this is the kind of food Kuroo's cooking up, maybe giving up coffee for a while is worth it after all.

"Dunno, probably when we graduate or something. Not my problem anymore once you get rid of me."

author's note:

finally got this chapter finished and i kinda love how it turned out!! esp the last two parts but that's just me ANYWAYS sorry for supes inconsistent updates i've been drowning in sm work and stuff irl and it's really killing me lowkey but writing genuinely makes me feel so much better that i just knew i had to finish this chapter off so i hope you guys like this as much as i do<3

tags: @staraxiaa @chuuya-brainrot @akaakeis @hiraethwa @kuroppiii @iiwaijime @she-lovesmyheartshapedsunglasses @cupidsblonde @catsoupki @bailey-reeds @wyrcan @fiannee @shoyosluver @haikyuusunsalad

[sushiwriterhere]

one: description & objectives

flight path

summary: "It’s then that it occurs to you that he might be doing a sort of calculus that means that even though you might win this battle, you’re going to lose the war."  rating: teen+ (eventually explicit, 18+ mdni) pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader word count: ~3.3k warnings: enemies to lovers!, college au!, eventual smut, hangman being hangman, no use of y/n.  notes: dedicated to @waklman this ones for u bestie. i have the rest of the fic planned, just gotta write :) pls pls pls let me know what you think! masterlist here tagging: @roosterbruiser @gretagerwigsmuse @joaquinwhorres @sometimesanalice @seresinsweetie @bobfloyds @theharddeck @sebsxphia @jupitercomet @dempy @gigisimsonmars @sunsetsimpsblog @shanimallina87 @djs8891

“Your project partners are as listed in the PowerPoint, please do not come crying to me about who you’ve been selected to work with, I will not be changing it. Your project ideas are due two weeks from today.” You can feel the dread filling your body as you scan the list of names on the slide in front of you.

The further along you get, the sicker you feel. Each person you know who could at least be somewhat trusted to pull their weight, is partnered. Anyone who’s even slightly normal, is also partnered. And not with you. 

The room fills with chatter as people stand to leave class and seek out their project partners, but all you can do is sit and stare at the name next to yours. Lifting your head to scan the lecture hall, you watch in abject horror as Jake Seresin, toothpick ever present between his perfect teeth, lifts a hand ever so slightly and wiggles his fingers at you.

You turn to the TA who always sits next to you, and put on your most flattering smile in hopes of a miracle, “Grace, I know Professor Simmons just said we couldn’t, but is there any chance—”

She laughs lightly, cutting you off, “Sorry kid, nothing we can do. Strict orders. But it shouldn’t be so bad, Jake’s second in the class y’know. I’m sure you two will come out on top.” 

Gritting your teeth together, you barely manage to keep yourself from explaining to her that that’s precisely the problem. 

You and Jake had met in freshman year intro to mechanical engineering—ENGR-M 101 to be exact. It was a larger lecture hall, but you’d ended up sitting next to the boy and his group of frat brothers. They were joking around, calling each other ridiculous nicknames, and you hoped you’d be able to avoid them throughout the rest of your time. 

You were an unassuming kid when you started college, far away from friends and family, and really only focused on becoming the top of your class so you could get into the best PhD programs possible. If MIT and Stanford weren’t an option for undergrad, they’d certainly take you with a perfect GPA and stellar recommendations. Becoming the best aerospace engineer, the best engineer overall, in your class wasn’t just a goal, it was your destiny. You realized that focusing so hard on academics really meant that, well, social life would be lacking. But besides, the STEM dudes were usually an odd bunch—you briefly considered joining some sort of campus club before the options overwhelmed you and you decided to try and volunteer in a research lab. It could be turned into a paid position. And, grad students could be your friends.

But in that moment, you met your nemesis. Really, it felt childish to say it like that, but Jake Seresin seemed to derive a special sense of pleasure from tormenting you. 

He’d introduced himself on that bright August morning with a winning smile, an extended hand, and a gentle Texan twang, “Jake Seresin. Nice to meet ‘ya.”

You shook his hand firmly, remembering the importance of men taking you seriously, and responded with your name. 

His response made clear exactly what his personality was, “Think you’ll survive the weed out? I’ve heard this professor’s a real hard ass, and I’m planning to be top of our class.”

“He’s perfectly reasonable in the lab; and I’m sure he will be here too.” You had sniffed, not exactly trying to sound haughty but not trying to be subtle about the fact that you’d already gotten a head start on the resume work already.

The smile that spread across his lips was poisonous, as if he’d figured you out just in that instance, “I see my competition has my work cut out for me.”

And with that, he turned back to his friends, ignoring the way your face seemed to warm a thousand degrees. You weren’t his competition, you were sure you were leagues ahead of him. The stereotypes about hot-headed, ignorant, frat boys traveled, and you weren’t a fool.

That light tension in your initial interaction had, frankly, spiraled into something drastically out of proportion and lightly legendary. Every class you had with him, you fought for who was going to set the curve, whose in-class answers were better. And at some point, the details of the first interaction faded and were replaced simply by how he had made you feel: like a bug under a microscope, but also like he was pulling your pigtails and taunting you.

So that was the beginning of a long saga in which you now find yourself facing the cruel reality of an entire semester where your grade depends on the very person whose entire life mission seems to be to take you down a peg. Which, frankly, you consider to be ironic because if there is anyone with an ego the size of the planet, that is Jake.

You keep your eyes trained to the front of the room as you shut your laptop and slowly begin packing up. You can’t really afford to avoid him, because this professor’s whole schtick is ensuring that all engineering students aren't terrified of social interaction. Hence, a semester-long project of ‘intimate’ work with a peer. 

It would be fine, except Jake isn’t moving either. He continues to sit and chat with his friends (somehow also engineering majors and frat bros?) while occasionally glancing up at you to see if you’ve moved. His smirk never wavers.

You steel your nerves, and decide that this won’t be the time he gets to you. You have to work with him? Fine. But you’ll take the lead, make sure it’s on your terms. No military themed projects, that’s for sure.

“Well look who it is, part two of the dream team.” Jake’s voice carries through the emptying lecture hall and you distantly hear some snickers, but his face remains almost impassive. 

You can read the mocking undertone, you aren’t stupid. So you stand slightly awkwardly off to the side as his friends disperse slowly around the two of you. The only friend of his that you know by name, much less respect, Bradley Bradshaw, sends him a warning look and says hi softly as he passes you. Despite the fact that Jake’s standing in a lower row, he’s still slightly taller than you when he stands to his full height, backpack over one shoulder.

“Jake.” You grit out, trying to mask your displeasure. You’re sure it isn’t working. 

“Sweets, it is a joy to see you.” His easygoing smile does nothing to make you feel at ease, in fact, you think it might be giving you high blood pressure.

“I will choose to ignore the fact that you seem to not know my name, and ask that we meet as soon as possible to start on this.” You cross your arms and turn around to start up the stairs, and you hear him hit himself on a desk in his rush to catch up to you. Serves him right.

He seems only slightly deterred by the fact that he just did the adult equivalent of smacking your shin with a scooter, and he keeps his stride even with yours. It’s your luck that you two actually have your next class together as well, something about senior requirements. 

“You’re being unusually nice to me. Scared that your grade’s on the line?” He teases, only slightly distracted by his phone which he’s typing furiously into. 

You round on him, and he grinds to a halt while you brandish your metal water bottle at him, “I take my grades very seriously, Jake Seresin, and I will not have you goofing around and sabotaging us just because you find glee in my suffering.”

Very cautiously, like he’s actually afraid you might hit him, he grabs the bottom of your water bottle and lowers it so it isn’t at his eye level. Then, he has the audacity to salute you. Not a corny one, but one that looks like he’s spent hours practicing it in the mirror when he’s doing his military nonsense. At the very least, he doesn’t snap his feet together, so he manages to save himself from looking like the world’s biggest dork. 

“I pinky promise that I will not sabotage our project because I find it funny. I do also care about my grades y'know.” You exhale just slightly, and you turn back around to start walking again. 

“Good to know you at least take something seriously,” You mutter under your breath, recalling all the times he’s breezed into lecture rooms right as the second hand indicates it’s the start of class.

He manages to catch your muttering, despite your best efforts, “I’m basically first in every engineering class we have, you cannot actually be questioning my academic prowess.”

Something curls in your chest, as you snap back, “Basically first?”

His laugh carries as you two finally exit the building and march through the quad. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you. It isn’t an exaggeration to say that despite the size of your university, people know about your rivalry. 

When you get to your next lecture, Jake plops himself down right next to you, trapping you in the aisle unless you take the long way out. You bristle at the proximity and glare at him, trying to mentally will him into leaving you alone. He seems not to get the message as he fully unpacks and manages to irk you even further by using the shared arm rest.

You almost completely lose your mind when you finally decide to change seats despite the one next to Jake being your unofficial-official seat, and your professor chooses that exact moment to start class. 

Ignoring Jake through the lecture isn’t actually the hardest thing in the world. He wasn’t lying when he said that he took classes seriously–you notice that he takes diligent notes, keeps his online shopping and texting to minimum (that’s nothing to say for his frat brothers who seem to be intent on keeping their groupchat on fire), and doesn’t bother you. He keeps his elbow on the arm rest between you two, though. 

When there’s only a few minutes left and the professor notices that he’s losing everyone, you feel a poke. You ignore it and grit your teeth as you attempt to maintain your composure. Jake pokes you again. 

It takes all of your mental strength not to straight up just yell at him in the middle of a lecture hall, and you turn your head slowly to make eye contact with him. He’s wearing a shit-eating grin and it makes you even more annoyed. 

“Can I help you?” You whisper quietly, “I’m trying to focus here.”

Jake just keeps smiling and responds, “Library after this? We can have lunch.”

Then he has the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows in a way that makes you raise yours at him. He seriously bothered you for this? The same man who insisted he would take the project seriously is trying to distract you from paying attention in one of your most difficult lectures. 

In an instant, you remember that pissing him off completely probably isn’t the brightest idea, and even though you can already tell you’re going to spend most of this semester completely and constantly ticked off with him, you know you’re capable and you don’t want to have him drag you down completely. So, instead, you nod somberly at him, and turn back to the front. 

He seems surprised by your reaction but doesn’t push it, thankfully. 

Once the professor dismisses everyone, Jake once again takes his time putting everything on his desk away and finally standing to leave. You think you could’ve done a hundred physics problems before you two are leaving the lecture hall. Nearly everyone else has already left, and you just find that to be another reason to be irritated with him. This semester is going to be a million years long.

-

“Oh please, Jake, spare me the hyper nationalist histrionics.” You think this might be the fourth time you’ve rolled your eyes in the last two minutes as you and Jake argue about your project topic.

The two of you have claimed a table in the far corner of the second floor and spread textbooks, notebooks, and various supplies over it. Thankfully, there aren’t that many witnesses to the absolute hurricane of materials and the arguing that’s been varying in pitch for the countless minutes since you got here. You’re considering strangling him.

(Yes, you had argued about where to sit. You insisted on a study room on the fourth floor where it was quiet and you usually studied. Jake had won out only because of the fact that the fourth floor was a silent floor and “we’re probably going to yell at each other and I really don’t feel like getting on the librarians’ bad sides this early into the semester.” Five minutes after he said that, you’d raised your voice loud enough to make several people turn their heads– “Urban sustainability shows our versatility as engineers, asshole!”)

You only have two weeks to decide, and even that’s a stretch. These deadlines are fake in your mind–topic should be decided within three days to ensure maximum time for research, analysis, and polishing of the final product. You’d perfected your timeline second semester of freshman year and you were not about to deviate because Jake couldn’t understand that not everyone had their head so far up the Navy’s ass all they could see was its intestines.

So far, the only ‘work’ you and Jake have managed to get done is to argue about the ethics of the military industrial complex as well as, in his words, why you are not in fact a hippie just because you don’t approve of a bloated military budget. (“How much does one pilot’s helmet cost?”) Lunch is abandoned in front of you, a few containers of the sort-of-decent cafeteria food from the basement. 

Jake seems determined to ensure the two of you spend the next sixteen weeks turning yourselves into cadets, or whatever the hell they’re called, and you could not care less. In fact, you absolutely cannot care less because you are not going to do research on the military and a deep dive into urban sustainability projects is the only option. Navy or Army or whoever be damned. You’ve already told him as much at least three times.

“You just said the word histrionics. Who even says that.”

At the very least, you can take comfort in the fact that he looks just as annoyed as you probably do. His usually unshakeable, smiley demeanor is gone, replaced by a look on his face that says he’s probably regretting being so cheerful about calling the two of you a “dream team”. He leans back in his chair so he’s only on the back two legs and you bite your tongue at the urge to chastise him for the extremely juvenile behavior. Someone’s mother clearly never terrified them at age five about putting their head through the windows behind the kitchen table. 

“I say that, Jake, because I’m an adult with an adult vocabulary. And as an adult, as the adult, I’m deciding that we’re not doing some stupid shit about the Navy.” He narrows his eyes at you and you can see the gears turning. 

“Okay, well, I’m also an adult and I don’t say histrionics.” It’s a weak comeback and you both know it, but he seems more preoccupied by whatever plan he seems to be thinking through. 

It’s then that it occurs to you that he might be doing a sort of calculus that means that even though you might win this battle, you’re going to lose the war. You open your mouth to start arguing again, but this time about the project topic, when he holds up a palm to stop you. Now you’re not just considering throttling him, but wondering how aggravated assault can be explained away on graduate school applications.

“Okay, how about we compromise. We can do our project on fuel efficiency of a few types of Navy aircraft. That way I get to do the military and we can talk about the environment. It’s not exactly urban planning but,” He waves his hand around, gesturing wildly, “It’s some sort of planning.” 

For a moment, you think he actually might be trying to compromise. But instead, you narrow your eyes. Jake Seresin isn’t nice, least of all to you. And he certainly doesn’t believe in compromises. 

You stand firm, “I am not doing any project that involves the Navy. Or the Army.”

“National Guard?”

You almost leap across the table at the laughter that shakes his entire body. Instead, you sit and you seethe, considering how much clout you have in the department to get someone to convince your professor to let you switch partners. Or help you get away with murder.

Once he stops laughing, he settles easily back into his chair and then folds his hands together so he can rest his chin on them, a serious expression coming over his face, “How about a deal, sweets?”

Sirens immediately start going off in your head. Bad, bad, bad. You are not making a deal with the devil. But, some part of you is curious, what will he ask from you to let you take the lead on this?

“Go on.” You narrow your eyes at him, and gesture for him to continue.

“You have to come to at least five parties this semester at my invite, and stay for at least three hours, I’ll know if you don’t, and we will do the project the way you want it. I ask for three thousand words to talk about the military, give or take.” The twinkle in his eyes is mischievous in the worst way and it sets you on edge. 

“What’s the catch?” 

“What do you mean what’s the catch? An offer’s an offer, sweets.” He holds a hand out for you to shake but you shake your head at him.

“I wanna negotiate.” Jake raises an eyebrow at you (does he do his eyebrows?), but gestures for you to continue anyways, “I will come to exactly four of your stupid parties, and stay for two hours, no more. We do the project my way and you get two thousand words.”

You can tell he wants to say yes when he sits up in his chair, but then you realize that he’s getting too good of a deal so you cut him off, “Actually, no military or flight deviations. I hate parties.” You wrinkle your nose in displeasure.

“Zero is a hell of a lot smaller than three thousand, sweets.” A crooked grin spreads over Jake’s face and you make a mocking face at him. “And I know, but it’ll be good for you. Socializing with normal humans is good for the soul.”

“Okay well, our page limit is thirty, and that’s 7,500 words double spaced. Not including diagrams and footnotes, so I don’t want you eating up all my research space with military crap,” Jake scoffs when you say “my” but holds out his hand anyway.

“Fine. Four parties, two hours, project your way, one thousand words?” He wiggles the fingers of his outstretched hand like he had earlier in the day and you stare at it for a moment before deciding, what the hell. 

Shaking Jake’s hand makes you realize that’s the first time you’ve ever touched him.