#and i almost passed out four days in a row this week and most of the days in the past couple weeks too

[sharkieboi]

I’ve been having some really horrible health problems since re-getting covid and I hate that every medical person I go to like begging for help has basically been like “idk drink gatorade about it??? we don’t have a cure for long covid, you’re just tired.”

I’m not looking for a fucking cure I’m looking for literally any form of treatment that will help I have been dying since March and I’m on the verge of quitting my job because I’m literally fainting almost every day between the fucking back to back 100F+ heatwaves and the minimum amount of physical labor required for my job in a building/exhibit with almost no AC or air movement at all and is bright and hot and loud and requires so much energy devoted to attention

but anyway I finally am getting my blood tested tomorrow so maybe I can finally at least get on the path to answers. i’m so tired and i just want this all to be over.

[aliidarling]

i searched male manipulator music to find a song for this post LMFAOO anyways guys i dyed my hair burgundy:3 i’m in my red hair era

i need to purge my urges, shame shame shame ♡

RICK GRIMES x fem!reader

part 2

nsfw content — please scroll if uncomfortable

summary: you get taken by the CRM by total coincidence and reunite with your lover who you haven’t seen in years, only to find out he’s only a fragment of the man he used to be

tags: p in v, praise, gaslighting, toxic!rick, manipulation, i’m bad at tagging

nsfw content below !!

You were lying barely alive in a field, bleeding out from your stomach. Your eyelids were heavy as you struggled to stay conscious, not wanting to die. You had so much to live for.

Everything was a blur, the blood staining your clothes. His name echoed in your head. It had been years since you saw the man you fell in love with. Ever since that day the bridge exploded, the day you lost him.

It had been almost eight years since then.

You supposed a normal person would have moved on by now, but his face and voice still haunted you, keeping you up during late hours and not allowing you to rest.

It would only be fitting that he was the last person on your mind during your last moments. You only could hope you were one of his before the bridge took his life.

Everything started to fade slowly, your ears ringing. Your eyesight was spotty. All you wished for was to reunite with him in the afterlife.

As you finally went still, the loud noise of a helicopter nearing went unheard by you.

You had no idea what was going on. You were being carried by two large soldiers wearing all black, holding you up by your arms as your body dragged on the floor. When you awoke, you were in an infirmary, all bandaged up and feeling better.

It was like they worked magic on you. The bandages around your abdomen were the only evidence of the stab wound that was once there.

“Where the hell am I?!” You yelled, your voice almost scratchy. They ignored you and continued dragging you towards a door in the hallway.

“Listen to me you fat fucks!” A screech left you as they shoved you inside the room, slamming the door behind you. You stumbled into the room, quickly regaining your balance as you clutched your side, the aggressive treatment opening your stitches slightly.

“Jesus, what the f… Your words were trailed as you looked up and realized four people were staring at you, all of them seated in a row with one empty seat in front of them. You blinked slowly.

One of them calmly smiled at you and motioned for you to sit. You gritted your teeth, looking around the room. Soldiers were standing by the walls, guns in their hands.

You sighed and hesitantly sat down, giving them a blank look.

It had been a week since then. They explained the overall situation you were in, and how they had found you half-dead in a field and saved you. You felt a little grateful, obviously, but you couldn’t shake off the weird feeling this place gave you.

The way they didn’t let you leave no matter what you said was what freaked you out the most.

“What do you mean I can’t leave?!” You snapped, raising your voice at the tall man before you. He had introduced himself as Okafor and was one of your superiors. For the last week, you had been dragged outside by the gate, handed a sharp spear, and instructed to kill walkers without any choice in the matter.

He rolls his eyes at you and frowns, staring down at you.

“Why would you want to leave? We’re giving you a place to stay with a small fee for some labor.” He scoffs, ushering you off back towards the fence.

“You’re being brainwashed.” You grumble, reluctantly setting your spear back up and pulling your mask down.

Another few hours of just stabbing walkers in the head passes, tiring you. You’re leaning against the gate, blood all over your clothes and the jacket they supplied you with.

“Good job, rookie,” Okafor comments playfully, giving you a pat on the shoulder. You grumble and push him off.

“This place sucks ass. I just wanna go home.”

Okafor hums and shrugs at you.

“Sorry to break the news, but there’s no chance. Only one man in history has attempted to leave, and even he didn’t make it.”

This sparks your interest for a moment before you sigh and turn away.

“Am I done for the day?”

Okafor grins and immediately shakes his head, making you groan and cross your arms. You had been in the heat for half the day now, you were sweating and all you wanted to do was go home and wash all this blood off you.

“We have a commander coming to do a check-in. He’ll be here in around ten minutes, so stay put.” The words leave him smoothly, not giving you even a second to complain before he turns away and starts talking to another one of his men.

With a groan, you picked up your spear and started stabbing the walkers again. You felt like that’s all you’ve been doing recently, other than planning on how to escape this place.

A few long minutes later, you hear a name being yelled that makes your heart stop.

“Commander Grimes!” Okafor yells happily as a tall man in a tactical suit walks up to him, his back to you. Your blood ran cold as you prayed that it was some coincidence.

Even still, if it was a coincidence it would still make you feel sick. The universe always had its way of making fun of you, and now it was making you hear his name everywhere.

You stared at the man’s back, silently praying that when he turned around it would be him. Or wouldn’t. You were confused with yourself— you didn’t know if you wanted to see him alive if it meant he was working for this corrupted military.

But your heart ached, even if the cons weighed you down. You found yourself staring, walkers long forgotten.

Okafor notices you staring and frowns, turning his attention from the commander to you with a wave of his hand.

“C’mere, rookie. You gotta meet Commander Grimes.”

Oh fuck.

Your legs felt wobbly like they could buckle from underneath you at any second. With your legs working on auto drive and your mind racing at a thousand thoughts per second, you found yourself walking towards the two men.

Once you reached them, the tall man slowly turned to look at you. It felt like should have been in slow motion, but in reality, it was all going way too fast.

The commander turned to look down at you, his blue eyes and curls making you want to vomit. It was him. Of course, it was him.

His eyes were emotionless, his face completely blank. He stared at you like you were any other person. Like you weren’t the woman he shared a bed with for years. The woman who helped him raise Carl.

“Sweetheart, your mask,” Okafor comments mockfully, making you grimace. That’s probably why he’s staring at you like you were a piece of dust.

“S-Sorry, sir.” Your voice cracked slightly as you quickly pulled your mask off, your hair getting tangled slightly. You quickly brush it out of your eyes, blinking rapidly. Gulping down the nausea, you looked back up to meet Rick’s eyes.

He was frozen, his lips parted and eyes wide, not making a single noise. His back was turned to Okafor, so only you could see the expression he had. The expression of shock, realization, and recognition.

After a long moment of silence between the three of you, you held your hand up to your temple and saluted him, your fingers trembling.

“Commander Grimes.” Your voice shook as you pressed your lips together.

He stared at you for another long few seconds before nodding, so subtle you barely noticed. Everything in his body was on fire, alarms blaring and his heart pounding.

There you were. Standing in front of him. Saluting to him.

“Welcome to the CRM, consignee..” He trailed on.

You held back a laugh before muttering your name, glancing at him, the ground, and then back to Okafor.

“Am I free to go?” You said rather harshly, your fists clenching.

Okafor gave you a once-over, judging your dirty clothes stained by walker blood and messy hair from the mask. He hums before waving you off.

“Yeah, whatever, I’ll see you here at 8am tomorrow morning.” He mutters before going back into casual conversation with Rick.

As you walked away, you could feel a pair of eyes burning a hole into your back.

Just later that night, you were in your given apartment. It didn’t feel like home, like Alexandria. Your mind stayed on Judith and RJ, freaking out about whether they were alright or not.

Judith had stopped answering you a few days before you got captured. You knew a part of you was delusional for going out on a whole entire journey to find your lover when this whole time he was living luxury at the CRM. He was a commander, fuck.

What were you doing? Staying here? You needed to escape now, find Rick, and ask him what he was doing here. You wouldn’t leave without him, that was for sure.

You crawled up on your bed, hunching closer to the window. It led to a fire escape but was sealed tightly shut. For a place that says they never had anyone want to leave, they’re pretty cautious with these types of things.

Glancing at the mini kitchen, you got an idea. You grabbed one of the knives and got back on the bed and kneeled down next to the window and started to slide the knife between the slits, hoping to hear a crack or any type of noise that would alert you you’re going in the right path.

Not even mid-way through your little escape attempt, your door suddenly slammed open. You shrieked and dropped the knife, sitting up and turning towards your door.

Rick stood there, staring at you with a panicked expression. He shut the door, locked in, before turning back to you. He was wearing dark clothing still, but not tactical. Instead, he wore a button-up paired with jeans, with a leather jacket on top.

He rushed towards you and grabbed you, cupping your face with shaky hands and trembling lips. You immediately leaned back into him with the same expression, happy to finally be with him, and happy he still cared for you.

“You- you— why—“ He furrowed his brows as he patted you down in a panic, not believing the fact you sat before him. His hands were shaky as he cupped your face again and leaned down towards you, scanning every detail on your face.

“Rick, Rick— is it really you?” You gasped softly, sitting up further and pulling him in by wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He places one hand on the back of your neck while his other stays on your back, pushing you into him.

“It’s me, baby, swear. S’me.” He soothingly brushes his fingers through your hair before gently placing his other hand on your chin. His thumb picks at your bottom lip.

“What are ya’ doing here, sweetie? How’d ya’ find me?” His voice was soft and gentle, lowered. His thumb gently pulls your lip down before leaning his down. He breaths onto your lips.

“I-I— I’ve been, I’ve been looking. I swear. Almost died and CRM took me.” You muttered shakily. Rick frowns and massages the back of your head gently.

“You almost died?” He mumbled and gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. You whined softly, wanting nothing more then his lips on yours. Your hands clawed at his jacket. He giggles and pushes you down onto your bed, crawling over you and pressing your body down with his.

“You’re okay, now, right? Good girl, keep being good for me.” You nod in response as he kisses your neck, your eyes fluttering shut as your hands gently tug at his hair.

“Missed you.” You whimper into his ear, a soft moan leaving you as he nuzzles his beard into your sensitive flesh. His hips grind down on yours, the two of you desperate for each other.

“God, can’t even describe how much I missed ya’, gonna fuck you so good.” He almost whines. His hands come down by your sides and grab at you. He presses his lips against you hard.

A muffled moan leaves you as he sits up over you slightly. He pushes one of his knees between your legs and puts pressure against your core, his hand going to your shirt.

“I’m not gonna let you leave this time, kay’?” His eyes darkened as he said this, making you shiver. With a hesitant nod, Rick starts to pull your shirt off. Once you were topless underneath him, his lips pressed gentle kisses against every inch of your torso.

His breath brushed against your breasts. Your bra was the only thing separating him from your breasts. Without another second to spare, he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra.

This was all going so fast.

“Wait— Rick,” You whine softly, trying to sit up. He shushes you, cupping your breasts and pushing you back down, colluding his lips with your neck.

“Haven’t seen you in eight years, sweetheart. Nothing you do can get me off you.” He chuckles darkly, nuzzling his scratchy beard against your sensitive throat before pulling away and lowering his predatory gaze to your breasts.

A small moan left your lips as his hands started to massage your breasts, his warm palms gliding over your chest. Your nipples hardened, making him chuckle. He leans down, tweaking one of them with his finger and gently taking the other in his mouth.

Your eyes flutter as you find yourself being pleasured by the man you’ve been dreaming of for years— your body being treated like a vase. He was so gentle and soft with you, kissing every inch he could reach. His hands were soothing as they caressed you.

It still felt odd though. Something about his dark gaze and his possessive words had you shivering under him, looking up at his eyes. The new scars on his body had you wondering what he went through.

He was holding you close to his chest, hugging you tightly and humming soft little praises into your ear. His cock was buried deep inside you, your walls fitting him like a vise. He moaned into your ear, holding you so tightly you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up with bruises.

His hips rocked smoothly, pushing himself deeper and deeper, wanting all you could offer. He wanted every inch of you and never wanted to let go.

“Good girl, so good for me, pussy so tight around me,“ He groans into your ear. His voice was raspy as his hands tightened around you, one on the back of your neck and gripping it. He held your face towards him so he could lean down to give you kisses whenever he wanted.

His other hand went down to work at your clit, humming approvingly as you clenched down at the pressure and let out an adorable little mewl under him.

“Wanna cum? Hmm?” He coos, gently rubbing your sensitive spot, leaning closer, and nuzzling into your neck. His thrusts get harder.

“P-Please, Rick, love you so much—“ You choke out, grabbing at him to steady yourself as he batters your insides. Your toes curled as your eyes rolled back, broken whines leaving your throat.

“Oh, oh, oh God— p-please! I’ve been so good..” You cried out into his ear as your words started to slur together. Your lips were quivering as he kept slamming his cock into your tight hole over and over again, sending you right over the edge.

“Yeah, you gonna cum? Mmm, good girl, just like that,” He whispers softly as he pounds into you more as you spasm around him. He feels your little cunt go tight around him and let out your juices. He grunts at the feeling, burying himself as deep as he could as he closes his eyes and leans his head back, relishing in the feeling of cumming inside you for the first time in eight heat.

“Yeah, sweet little baby. So good for me.” He groans as he fucks you gently through your orgasm, listening to your shaky moans and cries as your release keeps getting dragged on and on, more cum leaking out from your hole.

With a shaky sigh, he makes sure he has completely milked you out before slowly pulling out, small squelching sounds filling the silence. Your breaths were shaky, and so were his, both of you exhausted after the passionate love-making session.

“Rick..” You mumble tiredly, looking over at him. You lay limp on the bed, your pussy a mess with both your cums dripping out.

He smiles and looks over, now standing up and reaching for his boxers. He leans over you and pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, his thumb squishing your cheeks together.

“I’ll clean you up, kay? Gimme a sec, hun.” He says sweetly before pulling away once again and walking off to your bathroom.

A few minutes later the two of you laid in your shitty bed together, the mess between your thighs cleaned up. You were currently receiving a back massage from him, oddly enough. You laid on your belly as his large hands worked on your back muscles.

He stared down at you, admiring every little change in your body. He wished he was there for you all those years he wasn’t.

“What happened?” You asked softly, peering at him from over your shoulder. You felt him press his thumb down on a knot in your shoulder, making you whine softly.

“…You want me to start from the start?” He chuckles dryly. You give a hesitant nod.

“…Anne found me.. half dead on the riverbank. She was working with the CRM and turned me in, saved my life.” He spoke with a small hint of gratitude in his words, masked by his deadpan tone.

You continued to lay there silently, enjoying the back massage but still wanting him to explain everything. Was that all he was gonna say?

“..And? Did they— did they force you to stay? Did they hurt you?” You stuttered, wanting some type of explanation why he never came back. You wouldn’t be able to handle it if you found out he had willingly stayed here for eight years.

He was silent for a moment, his palm pressing down on your shoulder blades and rubbing in small circles. His eyes gaze down at you, wondering what to say to make himself not sound like the bad guy.

“No.” He mutters after a moment.

You felt like your entire world had shattered again, like he was being ripped from your arms like that day on the bridge.

“Why didn’t you try to come back?” Your voice cracked, making him realize he had screwed up. He hesitates on what to do before quickly pulling you into his arms, rubbing your back gently, and nuzzling your face into his chest.

“I did, sweetheart, promise. Tried a few times, but they stopped me. Made me realize what this place was. It’s life-changing, baby, you gotta give it a chance. I want you to stay here with me, kay? For me? Please, you gotta do it. If you loved me you’d stay, wouldn’t you?” He whispers soothingly, his words like daggers as he holds you tighter with every passing second.

“W-What? Rick? No— I can’t—“ You attempted to pull away, making him growl and push you down on the bed, crawling over you and planting his arms on each side of you.

“No, you gotta listen to me.” He says firmly, his eyes dark. Who was this man? Why was he treating you like this? The Rick you knew would never speak to you like this.

“Rick—"

He shushes you.

“You’re staying here with me, got it? It’s safe here. You’ll be safe. Don’t you wanna stay with me? Don’t you want tonight to happen over and over again?” He whispers, his dark tone turning into a sickeningly sweet one, his hand coming to cup your cheek and gently caress your skin.

“I can't, Rick. What about A-Alexandria? Judith? Maggie and Daryl— they’re all— you need to come home! This place isn’t good, good for you, good for us.” You attempt to plead.

Your words fall on deaf ears as he shushes you again, the dark look in his eyes coming back. He stares down at you in an almost offended manner.

“Are you trying to manipulate me?” He scoffs, sitting up and giving you a disgusted look. You freeze, quickly sitting up and attempting to reach for him. He clicks his tongue and pushes you away.

“I cant believe you sweetheart, just got me back, and is already trying to fall for your words. I thought you loved me?” He whispers slowly, glaring at you with narrowed eyes.

Your heart stops as his words settle in your throat, your eyes wide. Panic overtakes you as you quickly pull him back in and hug him tightly, trembling now.

“N-No, no, I swear— I wasn’t, I’m sorry, I’m sorry Rick, please don’t leave me.” Your words are small and fearful, fearful of him leaving you after you just found him.

His eyes soften as he keeps the sick grin from overtaking his face, his hands going to gently cradle you in his chest. He hums sweetly, rubbing your head.

“It’s okay, I know you’re just a lil’ confused. I’ve gotcha, sweetheart. I love you, okay? I’ll keep you safe and sound, just gotta stay here with me, can you do that? For me?”

“Y-Yea— yes, yes, anything for you.” You stammer, curling into his arms with watery eyes and shaky limbs. You didn’t want him to leave you, not again.

“Good girl. Knew you’d snap back to reality.” He chuckles dryly. His large hands hold you close to him, humming gently into your ear and rocking your small body.

The two of you lay there for a long time until you were asleep and gently snoring, and he was staring down at your vulnerable form, thinking.

You weren’t gonna go anywhere, and he’d make sure of that. He had searched for you for too long to let you slip away now, he’d rather die than watch you leave. He just needs to find a way to get Judith here, and you’ll all be the happy family you once were.

He’d make sure you had nowhere to go, even if it meant hurting you and twisting your sight on the world.

lmk if u want a part 2? idk what i could make happen but there's def potential

[tmntxthings]

∑一Heart to Heart Pt. 2。・゜・

author’s note: it was a close race in the polls but here we are ladies and gents! the sequel :D it has been awhile so i suggest rereading the first part if anyone’s confused, alsoooo i feel like this chapter is kinda all over the place but we posting it anywayssss here’s to hoping y’all enjoy xD

warnings: impending angst, multiple povs, fluff, female reader, cloaking brooch au, unedited, cursing

previous - next?

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Previously. . .

“Now give me back my cloaking brooch!! NOW!!” Missiles were firing as Leo finally undid the necklace. It was a miracle he could do so while in a full on sprint. His true form shifted back into view and Leo clenched the chain in his left fist as he pulled out an odachi with his right, slashing for a portal and shooting a wink at his enraged twin. “Buhbyeee~~” he cackled. Watching as everyone lunged for the portal. He wondered how the turtle pile felt without him as they all fell short to the pavement.

One week and a few days had passed by since then. You had almost forgotten about the encounter entirely. Though dark green eyes like those were hard to dismiss completely from your thoughts. It was your day off, Saturday, and you had plans. These plans had been months in the making. College was hectic, so getting a volleyball intramural team together was pretty tough. Everyone had different class schedules. Everyone worked whether it was internships or part-times. This was one of the first games of the season! It was imperative that all of your teammates showed up. Everyone had said they would. But they said the same thing for all the practices too. And let’s just say there was never a full attendance during any of those.

Your hopes were high despite what the past indicated. You were optimistic! It was two hours ‘til the game and you were out on a quick trip to a sports store. In your experience as captain for the past two years, one thing remained the same. Someone always, always forgot their knee pads. Literally the only thing they needed to remember. It was kind of ridiculous so you made sure to keep a spare. That was one of the reasons you were going, another was because your pair was getting a bit tattered. They had lasted through the practices but with the first game of the season coming up, you rather just get a new set while you were buying the spare anyways. Two birds, one stone.

Keeping your pace as a quickened step, you got off the bus and made your way down the street. It wasn’t that far of a walk, New York was jam-packed with stores. And rats. You thought as one scurried in front of you. Holding back a scream, you continued on your journey. The mental clock in your head ticking as you finally reached your destination. The sliding doors whisked open for you, the cool air from the a/c immediately making your shoulders relax. “Alright, knee pads, knee pads..” you muttered to yourself. Most all-inclusive sport stores had a very small section for volleyball. It just wasn’t as popular. Football/soccer? Rows upon rows. Basketball? Baseball? Same thing. Little space was left for the rest of the odds balls. Including in your humble opinion, volleyball, golf, swimming, rugby, and ping pong! You knew this store well enough so you went for the quickest route. Straight through the four basketball isles and then—

You sped-walked right into someone. With a resounding smack as your nose collided into a chest. “Ow, shitttt! I’m sorry!” You apologized, super embarrassed and already trying to escape the situation. Just get the damn knee pads and get the fuck out! “That’s alright, are you okay? Sounded like you took the brunt of it!” Now you had only sidestepped to move out of the way. So when you heard his voice it was one that you faintly recognized. Which led to you lifting your head, turning it to the side and meeting those deep green eyes. “It’s you!” You stated in shock, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Ahhhh lookie here is this fate or what!”

Two rows deep in the basketball area, the bus stranger you had practically forgotten was here! “Something like that I guess,” you couldn’t help but agree. Out of all the stores in New York. Out of all the people and just the sheer luck of timing!? “Looking for more Hamato gear?” You questioned though you weren’t planning on sticking around for the answer. You didn’t have the time! Though the encounter was neat you had plans and the captain could not be late. “You remembered my favorite too? Have I been occupying your mind?” He sounded like he was following you with a smug expression. You kept your back to him, making your way out of the basketball section and into the small row for volleyball. “Hardly! I just have good memory,”

“Uh huh,” he hummed. Then he was walking right beside you. Stopping when you stopped as you gave him an inquisitive look. “Well I too seem to remember that night and some sort of a deal?? That pertained to..” he pointed a finger out to the sign that hung above them. ‘Volleyball’ That was right, you had said something along the lines of playing a match with him. “I don’t even know your name!” You started with your first excuse. “Easy, Leo’s the name, and you?” You shook your head. Walking ahead to the knee pads and looking at the sizes as you replied. “Pretty,” he said smoothly, continuing by your side and picking out a pair of knee pads. “Ah, look, todays not a good day I’ve-“

Your second excuse was interrupted by a vibration in your pocket. You grabbed for it, answering on the third ring. “Hello?” The phone call was one that you were hoping not to receive. One of your teammates canceling, and apologizing profusely. “It’s alright, thanks for letting me know,” you sighed. It seemed they weren’t feeling good, something about a headache or a stomach ache? You had tuned most of it out because you were watching as the bus stranger kicked off his shoes. He was trying to pull up the knee pads he selected but they were wayyy too small for him. The phone call ended and you couldn’t stop your laugh. “Too small dude,” and you handed him a larger size for him to try. The pair had hardly went up his calves.

“Thanks!” He smiled as he traded you. You put the small pair back on the shelf. Then it struck you. “So as you were saying? Todays..?” You cleared your throat as you kept staring at the pads. “Todays actually perfect, I’m down one player so if you’re free-“ he cut you off excitedly, “Heck yes!!! I’m totally free!! So this is like an official match?!?” He wanted all the details and he forgot all about pulling up the knee pads. You told him about intramurals, how it was a official game, one of the first this season. He was practically buzzing! You grabbed another pair for yourself and headed for the checkout. “But we gotta head there like now if we wanna be on time!” Leo had quickly shucked the pads off, put his shoes back on, and was bounding after you. “Can’t be late to my first game ever!!” He beamed and easily passed you, grabbing your free hand and tugging you along.

He let go once the two of you had reached the registers. He sure was forward, or maybe he was just easygoing? Both of you paid for your gear and then you were back out on the sweltering sidewalks. “Thank god this sport is inside,” Leo spoke up, swinging his bag that contained his purchase to and fro. “Yeah, the college gym has a pretty big facility. They have four courts altogether so we’ll have plenty of room!” The bus ride to said gym was filled with questions. He wanted to know the positions. Which position would he be playing? Who was the enemy team and were they any good? Among many other questions…

[🐢 Leo’s pov.💙 ]

Talk about coincidence! Now this was.. what his sixth time sneaking out with the cloaking chain? Yeah we’ll go with sixth, because honestly he lost count after the second time. Leo had convinced Donnie he had lost the cloaking device, and the purple brother had almost drilled him. Thankfully Raph didn’t condone murder so he was safe for now. Probably until Donnie finally figured out that the cloaking chain wasn’t lost and that it was in fact around Leo’s neck right now as he stretched out around a bunch of other college students. You had introduced him quite quickly before telling everyone to start warmups. Yeah. Donnie would probably choke him with said chain. Oh well, Leo planned on never being found out!

That lasted all but two days if you wanted to count the fact that Mikey knew… BUT he was swore to secrecy. Anddddd Leo was also sharing the chain with him when he wasn’t using it. So there! Anywayyys Leo was chatting it up with his fellow teammates, practicing bumping the ball among other volleyball techniques that he didn’t know the name of. All he knew was that he was good. Damn good. Because everyone caught oohing and ahhing which in turn inflated his ego so much that he could probably float all the way back to the lair later. But the compliments that mattered most came from her. From you. Because as he watched everyone else practice he could tell you were better than them all. Now it was Leo’s first day and all, but he liked to think he was right behind you skill wise.

That may just be his inflated ego talking though. Insert metaphorical shrug here. Now Leo would loveee to go into detail about the game. But let’s just say they won. He won. And sure he got a volleyball to the face more than once, but that didn’t matter! Nope a win is a win in his book. The rest of the team dispersed after celebrating, talks about the next game and when the next practice was. Leo had the dates in his mental calendar. He was totally on the team now. “Hey thanks for filling in!! You were great out there!” Ending your sentence with a smile. Leo beamed back, “No problemo, I’ll be your fill-in anytime!” Giving you a smirk and a quick wink.

Leo watched as you shook your head, completely unfazed by his antics by now. He had upped his game during the actual volleyball game. Once the team had a pretty big lead he had quite blatantly flirted with you. Who could blame him?! You looked absolutely divine with your hair up. Cheeks flushed from doing your best during the game. “I told you they didn’t quit! This was just a one time thing!” Rightttt, Leo wasn’t actually on the team. Though he felt like he fitted right in! Leo made a face, pouting, “So what happens when someone else bails hmmm?” You chose to ignore him, pulling down your knee pads to your ankles. Leo took this opportunity to creep forward silently, and when your frame moved to upright itself he watched as you jolted backwards. He closed the distance again, “C’monnn Captain, you know I’m the best player you got!! My skills slayed on the court, add me to the team! Please? Pretty please??”

Leo wasn’t above begging. And he kept up the charade until he watched your eye twitch, then you blew out a long winded breath before holding out your hand reluctantly. “Alright gimme your-“

Of course Leo wouldn’t let you finish! He grabbed your hand shaking it vigorously whilst saying you wouldn’t regret your decision. And thanking you in abundance. Then going a step further, pulling the hand he held to him, smiling brightly as you stumbled forward into him. Squeezing you into a hug and picking you up off the ground to swiftly twirl you with limitless excitement. “Woah, WOAH! Hold up- Wait- LEO!” He released you seconds later smiling sheepishly. “I was asking for your phone you dummy!!” Your face was a darker flush than before, hand still outstretched for his phone but you were no longer looking at him. Cute. Were you embarrassed? Leo thought so. Hehe. Cute. You were absolutely adorable.

“Ohhhh rightttt my number huh? Couldn’t wait?” He teased further. Enjoying himself throughly as you turned a shade darker. “I swear to god I’ll change my mind rig-“ Leo was quick to place his phone in your hand. Still smiling more to himself but decided he wouldn’t push his luck any further. The game has definitely brought the two of you closer. The whole team had to work together but with Leo’s skill level almost to yours, the two of you played really well with one another. It had bolstered his pride and confidence, making him a bit more insufferable than usual. “Here,” you handed him back his phone. He checked the screen, noting your contact was added with a volleyball emoji. He’d have to change that later. It was fitting but maybe something more blue?

“So what’s the plan now? Wanna go grab something to eat? I know this great pizza place!” You made a face and he almost did a double take. How could someone not like pizza?!? Until he remembered you worked at a pizza place. Rightttttt. “Or you know whatever you feel up to eat!” He amended. He wasn’t a picky eater. You were slipping off your knee pads finally, stuffing them in the bag that carried the spare. “Uhhh yeah I know a place, it’s pretty good do you like Mediterranean?” Leo blinked. That was a big word. A Donnie word. He just nodded along, he’d figure it out eventually! Turns out he did like Medtiranean-whatever-its-called!

From that point on Leo spent more time with you. He messaged you often, and saw you at least twice a week. The perks of looking human were immense. Leo found himself not wanting to share the cloaking chain with Mikey, but he was threatened on more than one occasion that said brother would snitch. Luckily Donnie was building another one, and the nerd definitely made sure it was known that Leo was not allowed to use it. Which was fine since he had his own. Leo felt like he was being conspicuous with how much time he was spending with you. Whether it be checking his phone at random or giving odd excuses to leave the lair. He thought he was being pretty smooth but Mikey had informed him that Raph and Donnie were getting suspicious.

He’d have to get them off his trail somehow. And no, he would not be spilling the beans or telling the truth. That was not an option. Lest he be choked to death remember?? Other than that things were going well for the blue turtle. He enjoyed the competitions and the practices. He enjoyed being able to go out topside and not worry about ninja-stealthing. Or wearing layers upon layers of clothes. Or acting like he was a cosplayer. But what he enjoyed most was you. And he was starting to think you liked him too.

.

[padfootagain]

Walking on Water (I)

Part 1

Here we go for a cute little story for Ben Barnes! This was not requested, and I’ve written this a while ago. Just wanted to include a place I’ve been to, because I was looking at the pictures from these vacations and it was super pretty. That’s all!

There are a few links to some pics of the mountains and places I’m talking about, if you want to get an idea of the landscape on the masterpost for this fic (I’ve tried to describe it, but it’s still interesting to have actual illustrations).

It got a bit too long to be a mere oneshot, so I’ve split it into two parts, I guess you can call that a mini-series? Part 2 is already finished, and will be posted in a couple of days!

Hope you like this cute piece! Let me know what you think!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warnings: None! Fluff, a little bit of angst, Ben being an idiot, the usual… Best friends to lovers, only one bed, mutual pining, almost kissing… honestly, I’ve used so many tropes in this one!

Summary: Going for a trek across the Alps with your best friend aka crush aka love of your life is bound to get you into an awful lot of trouble.

Word count: 5226

“Why is summer so hot?! I’m melting!”

Ben merely chuckled and kept on walking in front of you. Or rather ‘climbing’, considering the slope you had to conquer.

Come with me hike across the Alps, he said. It will be fun, he said…

You regretted every single one of your choices at that moment. You would have expected for the temperature to be fresh at those altitudes, but you were quickly disappointed. You were covered in sweat and dust, under a burning sun, climbing up a mountain when you could have been in your bed reading a good book.

You cursed under your breath the idiot who was responsible for all your misery.

And there he was, walking in front of you. Oh, for sure he was out of breath and sweating as well, but he somehow managed to look good doing it. You did not. And you could not have cared less about how you looked because you could feel a bloody cramp spreading across your calf and that was really the last thing you needed…

You had followed Ben in his crazy idea of walking for four days straight. Going all the way around the Grande Casse, which, undoubtedly was part of the most beautiful spots of the Alps. And that was saying a lot.

But after two full days of walking in the mountains for seven to eight hours, sleeping on uncomfortable beds in shelters, and feeling like every single one of your muscles hurt… you were starting to lose your joyful temper.

But then again, you had planned this with Ben. You had talked about wanting to spend some time in nature, and you both enjoyed walking and running together; whenever Ben was around, of course. He had had a busy year, between acting and his new music projects, so travelling together for the summer sounded like a brilliant idea. Two full weeks lost in some of the most beautiful mountains in Europe. What could possibly go wrong?

Your crazy friend. That was what went wrong.

And sure, the first couple of days spent in a chalet felt like heaven. You relaxed, you visited some pretty sights, you ate good food, and had so much fun finally spending some quality time with your best friend.

But then came the time for the two of you to start this crazy project of yours to walk for four days in a row, sleeping in mountain shelters and enjoying the wonderful landscapes with your best friend. When Ben had proposed this idea, you were excited.

And now… now the harsh reality of it all had caught up with you, and if you could have gotten away with murdering your best friend, you would have pushed him off a cliff, without a doubt.

“Come on, it’s not so bad!” he encouraged you.

He reached a turn in the path, and waited for you there, moving to the side to let other tourists pass.

When you joined him, he handed you your bottle of water with a grin.

And you wanted to punch him in the face so hard…

“I hate you,” you breathed.

You were struggling to catch your breath, drinking the cold water in long gulps. It felt good. It was cooling you down under the burns of the sun. There was no wind to make the heat more tolerable either.

Ben nodded towards the path up ahead. He was out of breath as well.

“We’re going to reach some trees over there. It should be easier in the shade.”

“I hate you,” you repeated, handing him back your bottle so he could put it back in the little net on the side of your backpack. “Why did you convince me to do this again?”

He laughed, a bright, wonderful laugh, before he pointed at something behind you.

“That’s why.”

You turned around, and took in the breathtaking view.

You had reached a turn in the path, and there was a clear view of the mountains from there. You were too busy looking at your feet to avoid falling because of roots and rocks during your climb, too busy struggling with your breathing and this horrible heat to actually pay attention to your surroundings.

This was a nice and necessary reminder.

Before you a field of wild flowers – purple, red, yellow and white – descended along the side of the mountain you were climbing: a peak on your left that fell abruptly at first, but then more smoothly, gently enough to let grass, bushes and flowers grow. Further on the right, the mountain you stood upon stopped, or rather you lost sight of it beyond pine trees. And beyond these trees, you could see the mountains on the other side of the valley. They faced you with all their height and might, chiselled rocks that seemed to be reaching for the azure sky above, fingers thrown upwards trying to hold the firmament. The tops of the sharp peaks were painted with splashes of white, eternal snow that never melted. They were like innocent spots across black stone.

And all around you, in all direction, as far as the eye could see, it was just mountains. Peaks and falls and snow and forests of greens and golds.

It truly was indescribable. Some of the most beautiful things you had ever seen…

You slowly nodded.

“That’s a pretty good argument.”

But when you turned to Ben again, you were glaring at him.

“Won’t save you from my wrath though.”

Your best friend merely laughed again, readjusting his old red cap upon his head.

“You’ve always been merciless,” he teased, an annoying grin plastered on his features.

He brushed away a couple of droplets of sweat that were rolling down the side of his face, from his temple down to his jawline.

“Have to admit though that walking under this heat is quite painful,” he added, taking a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

“How long till we reach the shelter?”

“Two hours.”

“I’m going to die.”

“Of course not. I would then have to carry your corpse all the way down the mountain, and that would be way too much effort. So, I’m forbidding you to do so.”

“How generous of you. You could always leave my body here.”

“For your family to kill me? No, thank you.”

You let out a laugh, and he soon joined you.

“It is a pretty sight though,” you nodded once more, letting your gaze drift back to the landscape splayed before you.

You didn’t see Ben’s tender smile as he kept on looking at you.

“It is a beautiful sight, indeed…”

But even if you enjoyed this short break, you still had a long way to go to reach the shelter. You heaved a sigh, turning towards the path again.

You walked for about twenty minutes until the path slowly faded, from a clear line to a mere passage drawn through the grass by the many footsteps of hundreds of hikers. You followed this passage through the tall grass and flowers that tickled your calves and perfumed the air with a sweet smell. You kept on walking until you reached a barrier, made of barbed wire. In the distance, you could hear bells ringing, breaking the quiet of the peaceful scenery: you needed to cross a field where cows were grazing.

You found the handle that allowed you to detach a segment of the wire so you could cross, and you entered the field with Ben. You stopped to admire the cows, remaining at a respectful distance of the quiet animals. They didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the two of you though, eating grass and wildflowers while the bells around their necks rang loudly in the motionless air. Butterflies flew from flower to flower as well, adding even more splashes of colour upon the idyllic landscape. Beyond the cows and field, you could still see the same tall mountains that rose majestically on the other side of the valley.

You were about to start walking again, laughing at Ben as he tried to get rid of an annoying fly, when you heard an animal walking towards you.

It was a donkey. Grey with cute, darker ears and a lazy pace that made you wonder if he really was walking purposefully towards you and Ben or if he was simply minding his own business, and you happened to be on his way.

You had to admit that you looked at the quiet animal with some worry, not sure how to react. Ben, however, had an adorable smile on his face.

“Hi, there,” he said in a calm, welcoming voice.

The animal stopped, seemed to study the two of you, and took a couple more steps to get right in front of Ben.

“You should be careful…” you advised him, but Ben rolled his eyes.

“This guy seems quite calm.”

He tentatively rose his hand, gave the donkey’s nose a few scratched, and the animal wriggled his ears in an appreciative way.

You took the opportunity to take a couple pictures, while Ben was grinning like a boy, still petting the donkey.

“This guy’s very friendly!” he grinned. “You should pet him!”

But you were hesitant…

“Come on!” Ben encouraged you. “Look, he’s very calm.”

Before you could protest, he held your hand in his and guided your palm to rest on the donkey’s muzzle.

The fur was surprisingly soft under your touch. Ben’s touch was burning your hand, it seemed…

You were struggling to breathe, and it was not because of the donkey.

Ben looked down at you with tender eyes, his grin growing fonder and brighter at the same time.

“It’s pretty great, isn’t it.”

You couldn’t help but nod.

“Yeah, pretty great.”

You realized then that you had taken a step closer to Ben, and that you were standing very close, shoulder to shoulder. When you looked up at him, you noticed the way he turned away in a hurry. After spending three days in a row outside, he had caught small sunburns on his cheekbones and on the tip of his nose. Nothing painful, but enough for the skin to turn into an adorable shade of red. You were certain though that he seemed redder than before, as if he were blushing.

He let go of your hand.

“We should get going,” he said, looking away again and he started walking without waiting for your answer.

He didn’t want you to realize that his face was on fire. That even his ears were on fire, actually. That his heart was pounding because of you, because of your fingers under his, because of your shoulder resting gently against his arm, because of the light of the bright sun in your eyes…

He heard you hurrying behind him, and he forced himself to slow down. He took a few deep breaths, calming down.

He had been so good these past few days at hiding the way he truly felt about you, he couldn’t just… show it now and blow everything away and destroy all that you had built together along the years…

No, no… he couldn’t do this. It was too much of a risk to take to tell you about his feelings for you.

For a while, he had thought it was a mere crush, that it would pass. But time had flown by, carrying weeks, and months and years and it seemed that it only got worse. Only got more intense.

The more time went by, the more he was falling desperately in love with you.

He really, really was an idiot for falling in love with his best friend…

“Huh… Ben… I think we have a problem…”

He turned around, and indeed, you had a problem. A problem in the form of a donkey.

Because that friendly animal apparently wanted more than just scratches. He was following you across the field, and had started sniffing your backpack suspiciously.

You hurried to reach your friend, and bravely hid behind him.

“What do we do?”

Ben couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head as he got an apple out of his bag, and handed it to the animal.

“I reckon that’s why he was so friendly. He was hoping for a treat.”

Indeed, the donkey grabbed Ben’s apple and started munching on it, bits dropping on the grass.

“Let’s make an escape while he’s distracted,” you proposed, and you resumed your walk towards the other side of the field.

When you crossed the barbed wire again, the donkey had started following you once more. He let out a loud cry as Ben walked away.

“You’re really good at making new friends,” you complimented Ben, making him laugh.

“This one’s a little too intrusive though. Very stubborn,” he joked.

He patted the donkey one last time from the across the wires though, before turning away.

“You really do make friends everywhere you go.”

“That’s because I’m absolutely charming, obviously.”

He was joking of course, a giggle badly hidden in his voice and ready to come out at your reply. But your tone was not as humorous as he had expected it to be when you answered.

“Hmm… well, you are quite charming, that’s true.”

You didn’t laugh, and he guessed that you weren’t joking, not fully anyway.

He blushed even more fiercely than before, and was grateful that you were walking in front of him, so you could not see his crimson cheeks.

Le refuge du col de la Vanoise.

Last shelter of your crazy trip, before going down to a village down the mountain the next day.

There was an older building built in stone at the beginning of the 20th century, but that was not the building where you would be spending the night. You would be sleeping in the large, modern one made of wood and metal that sat by its side. When you arrived, you first saw it coming up from the path, its rectangular shape resting at the foot of a peak covered in snow and black stones. You had to admit that it was an impressive sight to see, it seemed ridiculously small next to the large shape of the peak, that some people were brave enough to attempt climbing.

When you turned to Ben, he was grinning, a dreamy expression painted over his features.

“That is one hell of a view to spend the night, don’t you think?”

He finally turned to you, and you couldn’t argue with his statement.

“I think if we walk a bit further, we can even reach the snow, look,” you added, pointing towards the fading grass, where the slope became more intense again and the ground lost any trace of green, in favour of dark grey rocks, that were splashed with stains of white snow.

“That would certainly cool us down,” he laughed.

You had noticed that the air was chiller now, but with so much effort put into trekking, you hadn’t felt the need to put on a pullover yet. The gush of wind that followed made you reconsider your decision, though.

Over 2500 metres above sea level… That was pretty high, you reckoned… And you looked up at the peaks above you, that seemed so close, reachable now, you truly realized how far you had walked in just three days. When you had started, they seemed to be so high above you, unreachable at the time.

You followed Ben as he walked towards the mountain shelter. Black t-shirt hugging his frame, a black backpack, grey shorts and his old red cap, its colours had fainted long ago but he still wore it often. You had gifted him that stupid cap ages ago. Almost… almost a lifetime ago, it seemed.

For how long had the two of you known each other? You had stopped counting. It felt like he had always been here, with you. There had been a change in what you saw in him along the years. Slow, barely noticeable at first. Something that settled in your heart without you noticing, that grew stronger with each minute you spent together. When you realized what it was, it was too late already. You couldn’t go back. You couldn’t see a mere friend in him anymore.

But how could you tell your best friend that you loved him?

It seemed impossible, unfeasible, unreachable. Just like reaching the top of this mountain. You felt too small to achieve such a thing.

A thousand things could go wrong, and you would have rather kept him in your life as your friend than try to have more and lose everything. So, you dated other people, and he had a love life of his own. Somehow though, you always ended up with a glass of wine in his apartment every Friday night. Somehow, he always called you when he was away on Sunday mornings. You watched movies together even if you were thousands of miles apart. You talked to him on the phone until he fell asleep. He listened to you for hours complain about work. He looked at you with this expression in his eyes that was so full of tenderness that you melted everytime.

And you thought, sometimes, as if caught in a dream, as if yielding to a moment of madness, that perhaps… perhaps he felt the same. Perhaps he had stopped seeing you as a friend at one point. Perhaps he loved you too.

But how could you tell your best friend that you loved him?

While you were lost in these thoughts of yours, some that were becoming quite frequent these days, you had reached the shelter, and Ben was checking with the guardian about your reservation. You were still too distracted by your own worries to pay attention to the conversation Ben was leading, in a mix of French and English. You did notice the few French words he spoke though; they made your heart jump every time.

You focused harder on the conversation though, when you heard Ben repeat himself several times. You saw him reaching for his phone in his pocket, and he showed his digital copy of the reservation to the keeper. The bearded man stared at the screen. He looked like he was about fifty, with a face marked by years spent under the wind and sun.

He nodded, taking his time to choose his words as he answered in English, but with a heavy accent.

“I can see that you have booked two beds. There must have been a mistake.”

He shrugged, emphasizing his gesture to show what he meant, in case Ben would have not understood his English. But he had, and so had you.

He lifted a finger to show the two of you to wait. He disappeared inside the shelter, looking for something. You asked Ben what was going on.

“Apparently there was a mistake and they have registered only one bed for us.”

“What? Does that mean we can’t sleep here tonight?”

“I don’t know. The guy is gone looking for something, apparently.”

“But we can’t reach the town tonight, it’s several hours away…”

Ben rested a soothing hand on your arm.

“I’m sure we’ll find a solution, don’t worry. We’re in the middle of the mountains, they’re not going to just abandon on us to spend the night out there.”

Right at that moment, the keeper came back. He had an apologizing smile on his face as he explained the situation, slowly, struggling to find his words sometimes.

The shelter was fully booked for tonight. He couldn’t explain the problem with the online booking system, and it didn’t matter. What mattered was that you needed a place to stay for the night, and it wasn’t an option for the two of you to go somewhere else.

He had found an extra mattress, along with a dozen of blankets. You would still be missing a bed, but you could use the old mattress and the extra blankets to sleep on the floor, while still being at least a little comfortable.

Ben and you exchanged a glance, but there wasn’t anything else to be done. And this poor man before you had no better option either, he couldn’t summon a bed, after all.

So, Ben helped the keeper to carry the mattress across the building, until you reached the corner of a large dormitory filled with many beds. They put down the mattress, along with the blankets, right next to a single bed set in the corner.

But, despite the seven layers of blankets added to the mattress, Ben couldn’t refrain a laugh as he laid down to test his bed for the night, after the French man had left the two of you alone.

“If I can get up again tomorrow morning, it will be a miracle,” he chuckled, running a finger through his hair before replacing his cap on his head.

“Is it that bad? I can sleep on the floor…”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just… destroy my back during the night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous…”

“I’m not. Help me up, would you?”

You offered him your hand, rolling your eyes at him.

You pulled with all your strength to tease him, making him almost fall as he got up. And it made you both laugh but also… It made him hold onto you to keep his balance, and when he looked down at you, you were very close.

Desperately close.

And being so close to you, with your hand still in his, so close that he could feel the air leaving your lungs come to brush his lips, he couldn’t look away from your eyes. He was trapped inside them. He couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. He could only stare, and take in the warmth of your skin against his, and the way he wanted to bend down and finally…

You both jumped as the door of the dormitory opened, and the spell was broken.

You did find snow a few meters away from the shelter.

You did enjoy a nice evening sharing a meal with a hilarious Italian couple, two French sisters, and an old French guy who had been coming here every summer for twenty years.

It was a light evening, filled with stars and funny stories shared with strangers and an awful lot of wine and cheese.

The temperature had dropped considerably during the evening, and when you finally headed to bed around 11pm, you were happy to stay in the shelter and not outside, in a tent.

When you let yourself fall onto the bed, you couldn’t refrain a sigh of relief. Some people sharing the room were already asleep, and you whispered when you saw Ben coming in from the showers. He was still drying his hair with a towel, his dark locks completely dishevelled. He was wearing an oversized black hoodie with a pair of dark jogging trousers.

“I’m so tired,” you whispered as he sat down at the end of your bed.

He yawned, as if to agree with your statement.

“We need to get up early tomorrow. Lots of walking to be done,” he added, his tone matching yours in the quiet room while he rubbed the towel against his rebellious hair.

You threw a glance at the mattress on the floor by the side of your bed, and heaved a sigh.

“You shouldn’t sleep on that thing, by the way.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll break your back.”

“It’s better than the floor.”

“You can sleep with me.”

You stared at each other for a moment. You realized you were staring but so was he. You were trapped in his brown eyes again, as usual. You always were…

The room was quiet, peaceful. Outside the wind had started to blow, got caught in the rocks of the mountains around the shelter. It howled. In the dormitory, you were the only ones talking, your voices mere whispers. On the opposite side of the room, someone was softly snoring.

“Are you sure?” he asked in a voice even lower than before, full with something kind and delicate, fond, almost loving…

You shrugged, trying to hide behind a casual gesture how nervous you truly were.

“Of course. We’ve been friends for… how long?”

“Too much to count at this point,” he answered with an amused smile, but his dark eyes remained on you.

“So… I reckon we can share a bed. We’ve done worse.”.

“Alright,” he nodded, finally freeing you from his intense stare.

He threw the towel on his bag, ran his fingers through his hair to tame the rebel strands. He was avoiding your gaze, but you didn’t notice. You didn’t notice either that he was blushing.

More people walked inside the room, there were only five minutes left before the main lights of the room would be turned off, so that everyone could go to sleep. Or at least, those who didn’t want to spend most of their night outside, enjoying some music and some happy conversations. You were too tired to join them though.

“Move over then, or I’ll have to crush you,” Ben joked, finally turning towards you and waiting for you to lie on your side so he would have enough space next to you.

You both tried to get comfortable, it was quite difficult in the tiny space of the single bed.

“You’ll lose any part of you that touches me during the night by the way,” you joked in a half-threatening tone.

“Alright, but then I’ll push you off the bed if you start snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You do. Trust me, you do.”

You both chuckled, but didn’t manage to get comfortable for a while. He winced when your cold feet collided with his.

“How come your toes are so cold! How have they not fallen off yet?” he complained, making you roll your eyes.

But Ben stopped moving, and seemed to think for a second. He threw a glance at the pile of blankets on the empty mattress, before turning to you again.

“Would you prefer not to share the blankets? We have some extra ones. You can keep these two, and I can lie on top of them and get some for myself.”

You considered his offer, but shook your head.

“It doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable. You?”

“No, it’s okay.”

“If you steal all the blankets though, I will leave your body to be devoured by vultures.”

“Always so violent, Y/N…”

But he was chuckling, finally settling in a comfortable position. He was on the edge of the bed, but he didn’t seem to mind. A hand under the pillow, he was lying on his side, facing you. You could see his body finally relaxing, and he heaved a satisfied sigh.

“That feels nice,” he smiled. “I have to admit… it was a tiring day. My legs are very sore.”

“I thought you weren’t in pain. I thought you loved climbing.”

“Shut it.”

It was your time to chuckle as you eventually settled down. You didn’t notice that your position matched Ben’s. Hand under the pillow, facing him…

Only when you rested your cheek against the soft cotton did you notice that Ben and you were face to face, so close…

So close… close enough for you to fall in his eyes immediately, irises so dark they seemed the same colour as his pupils. You could feel his breath brushing your lips, the air leaving your lungs mingling in the small space between your faces. Only a few centimetres separated your bodies, you were so close that you couldn’t lay your hand flat on the mattress across the space between your bodies. Instead, your hand was partially closed, and when Ben moved his fingers a little, his knuckles brushed against yours. You didn’t move, but stopped breathing, still lost in his eyes. He blinked a couple of times, and you noticed how his breathing quickened, how he retrieved his fingers instantly, the touch disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. You stared for a few more seconds in silence.

But then it was back. Feathery, and hesitant. The touch of his knuckles against yours, brushing his skin against yours. Warm. Delicate. Slow, as if asking for permission. You didn’t move, and so he didn’t stop.

When he extended his fingers a little more, you opened your hand as well, slowly, as if to invite him in. To invite him to hold your hand in his. And he almost did, moving his fingers around yours. He was about to close them when he paused.

“Maybe I should… turn around. Would that make it… easier?”

Make it easier?

For you to fall asleep? Or for the two of you to act like this wasn’t happening? Like your heart wasn’t pounding, like his breathing wasn’t a mess, like your skin wasn’t on fire, like he didn’t have butterflies all over his stomach, like you didn’t want to close the gap between your bodies and finally run your fingers through his hair, like he didn’t want to lean in and finally kiss you and hold your face in his hands to keep you close…

Would that make it easier if he turned away?

“I don’t know. I’m not sure you should,” you answered in a whisper.

You moved your fingers against his, as if you encouraged him to imprison your hand in his. And he did start to bend his knuckles, to close the trap of his warm skin around yours…

…and then the lights went off.

You had been accustomed to the light, and in this new darkness you couldn’t see a thing. You felt Ben’s movement stop, as he was surprised as well by the sudden blindness.

And somehow, the spell was broken.

You pulled your hand away and turned around as quickly as you could, your back now facing him. You closed your eyes tightly. You tried to calm down…

“Good night, Ben,” you let out in a breath.

He blinked a few times, trying to get accustomed to the night. There was a little bit of light in the room, from the stars outside and the sign indicating the emergency exits. They were enough for him to see your shape after a few seconds. He stared at the form of your shoulders, opened his mouth to respond, to argue…

He lifted his hand slowly, bringing his palm closer to your back. He stopped millimetres away from your shoulder blade, hand open and ready to rest gently on your t-shirt. But he didn’t close the gap. He didn’t touch you. He kept his fingers there, still in mid-air, still close enough to feel the heat escaping your body and warming the world around you. But he didn’t close the gap, he closed his fist instead as he let his hand fall by his side.

He clenched his jaw, shut his eyes tightly for a few seconds. He wanted to call your name…

He didn’t.

“Good night, Y/N.”

You felt the bed caving under his weight as he turned around as well. You waited until he had stopped shifting his weight around to let out the breath you had been holding. You were grateful he couldn’t see the tear that rolled down your cheek.

***************

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black

[jorvik-aita]

warning this ones long: I didn’t realize how long it was when i wrote it.

POV: Big Bonny, formally: Bonnibel Blair.

AITA for creating robots that are half machine, half human for an evil company? 

For context, I was at this job for months. They company approached me offering me a Job as an “innovated organic machine operator.” At the time I wasn’t sure what that meant. 

However, it must have been something important for I hadn’t heard of the company before. They wanted me to keep things hush-hush reasoning that they were to quote “working on top-secret projects involving the most advanced science and technology that have yet to hit the Jorvegian market.” 

Which sounded like a dream come true. Since my true passion is pushing the boundaries of technology and science. 

However, once I got there things started going horribly wrong. It started off small, first with the workers there seemed to hate their jobs. All were gloomy, nonchalant at best. One of the workers even said that the novelty of the place wear’s off after a while. Only now do I see what he meant by that. 

Then, the job seemed to at first not be what I expected it to be. For after a few weeks there I only hand-cleaned barbed wire fences and polish bolts in the wall. I almost quit then and I should have to be honest. However then, I met the man in charge. That was a mistake. 

The man in charge managed to convince me to stay and to quote “serve Dark Core to the best of your abilities.” I of course blurted out yes before he had finished speaking for he had offered me my true task. And I was so pleased to get to actually follow my passion that overrode any unhappiness. 

Then my True job was reveled. That was to create robots that were part man, part machine. They would be a husk of a human, no emotions, no memories, merely some cogs and wheels with some silicone skins grafted over them. And I then started using dark science, cloning, and secrets only Dark Core knew, that I dare not speak out loud. Heaven forbid write them down.

A few months passed after that event. I sorely regret it. I spent those months buried in my work. Created clones with no emotions, and no thoughts. Their only purpose was to see Dark Core succeed. And to boot their machinery makes them unnaturally strong. I gave them googles to cover their lifeless eyes, and gloves to cover their robotic hands. 

For a while it was only mildly unsettling to create something so life-like that isn’t alive at all. But the thrill of pushing the boundaries of science was far too exciting to abandon. That was until I reached my breaking point. 

That night of my breaking point, I could not ignore any longer how that the more clones I created the more the human workers disappeared. And after a while it was just me and the clones. No humans resided on that rig any longer. I decided to confront my boss in the morning.

However, as I was sleeping in my bunk after a long hard days work, I awoke to fateful nosies. I heard the cries of horses, and cackles of humans ringing throughout the metallic shell of the rig. And the curiosity got the best of me and I snuck out of my bunk determined to find answers. But as they say curiosity killed the cat and it could have killed me in that instance. For what I saw changed my life forever. 

My boss, and four shadowy figures were standing in the middle of a platform. There, towering over them, was a deeply horrible, terrifying sight. I saw there, a portal to an another place, it was swirling with darkness. It was emitting the cries of horses I heard from my bunk. These cries now sounded even more horrible than they did from my bunk almost as if the poor intelligent caring animals were being tortured. My heart cried out for them.

However, before I could processes anything, they turned around, spotting me with ridiculous accuracy. Spotting me like an eagle does with a mouse. My instincts came over me and I fled and grabbed the nearest rickety rowboat I could find. I rowed with such ferocity you would think my ass was on fire. 

I only turned around for a glimpse to see if they were watching. And they were. Thats the last I saw of my boss and the four shadowy figures; them standing at the edge of the platform; watching me row away. I can only conclude that my boss knew what I saw, he knew it was me. And from then on my life has been in danger. 

Once, I got back to the beaches of Jorvik I could swear I could still feel their eyes on me. So I escaped further inland. Since then I have gone into hiding.  I live now in a sleepy small town. I dare not name where for fear they will come get me. Yet some small part of me thinks they let me live, they let me reside here. Maybe they know I won’t dare tell the authorities?

In the end, this sleepy village is where I made my home, doing my best to blend into regular life. I have done my best to process everything that happened. And to process that I was contributing to the evil intentions of Dark Core. 

I’ve been trying to make amends, and bring as many inventions to Jorvik for the better of the island. I first started with making a clone, with emotions, thoughts, and feelings. I called her Little Bonny. And sent her out into the world to live a life like everyone else. Someday she shall be called Big Bonny like me. She didn’t move far from me and I visit her whenever I can. She’s a Witch now in Moorland, helping the youth of Jorvik. I’m proud of her.

Today, I have long been living my fresh start at life. Filling it with the normalcy of mundane life, and not an evil corporation in sight. 

It does feel good to get all of this off my chest. But I can’t help but feel, AITA, for being young and stupid, and creating those clones that contributed to the evil Dark Core has done? 

[umichenginabroad]

New Zealand Part 1 (Week 11)

One of the beautiful things about studying at UNSW is that during week 6 of our studies, we get a flexibility week where the majority of courses don’t hold class and students are given the chance to catch up with schoolwork, get ahead, or do nothing and just relax! My hostel-mates and I knew about this opportunity from the day we got here, so a big trip was always in the works. We even knew that we all wanted to spend the time in New Zealand. The only problem? There’s 18 of us living in the hostel together and we’ve had enough trouble planning trips for just 5 or 6 people, let alone 18. Everyone had a different vision of what a trip to New Zealand could look like between camping, or renting cars and staying in AirBnBs, or living out of campervans. Needless to say, the trip planning was procrastinated all through the 4 weeks of summer and another 4 weeks of term 1. Once in a while someone would say, “Guys, we really have to plan this. Plane tickets are getting expensive!” and they’d be met with more approval and support than a professor who has suggested extending a homework deadline. But, as expected with our group, no action would be taken. Until one person sits down and buys themself a roundtrip flight to New Zealand, nobody is going anywhere. Soon enough, after intense procrastination and discussion, tickets were bought, plans were made, the group of 14 (four couldn’t make it) had divided into two campervans and two cars (who would be staying in AirBnBs), and I was sitting on a plane to Queenstown. 

^^ Landing in Queenstown

Queenstown may not be among New Zealand’s 20 largest cities, but it is renowned for its adventure sports and stunning scenery, earning it the nickname "Adventure Capital of the World," as my friend Elizabeth would say. Our adventures in Queenstown, however, were put on hold until the end of the trip as we had a road trip planned that would take us up north to Christchurch and then back down to the Adventure Capital. So, on our first day there we picked up our car rentals and headed to Fiordland National Park for a quick hike. The greenest plants, mossiest rocks, and most colorful mushrooms riddled the paths and made our short hike one of the most memorable. 

^^ Some New Zealand Flora

I also felt a lot safer hiking in New Zealand compared to Australia. New Zealand has none of the snakes that Australia is infamous for and has an almost negligible amount of dangerous spiders compared to the numbers Australia boasts! With our glow worm cave tour waiting for us in Te Anau, we had to get back on the road quickly. Lucky for us, there are worse places to be driving than one of the most naturally beautiful countries in the world where mountains surround you in every direction and lakes bluer than the sky itself pop up out of the blue (pun intended) every few moments. We weren’t allowed to take pictures in the glow worm caves, but imagine yourself sitting on a boat in a pitch black cave with little blue/green specks scattering the ceiling. That was pretty much it! It was interesting to learn about the glow worms themselves – they glow brighter the hungrier they are (to better attract flies) and they’re actually larvae, not worms, so they just need to survive long enough to turn into gnats and reproduce. You may be wondering why I’m sharing so much detail about random worms. Well, as a recent trivia night attendee (two weeks in a row), I see every random fact as a future topic in trivia. You can thank me later.

^^ Just the average roadside view while driving along the west side of the South Island!

Milford Sound was next on the list. Just a two hour drive from Te Anau with the option of a bus service to shuttle you there and back, Milford Sound is a large fiord stretching 9 miles (or, 15 km should I say) to the open sea. Once there, a boat cruise takes you down to the ocean and back while passing waterfalls, dramatic cliffs, and some popular scuba diving destinations. Milford Sound was highly recommended as an activity on our itinerary, and it truly lived up to the hype! From the stops on the bus ride to the scenic cruise, I was in a constant state of awe that I will never forget. The rest of the trip was just as exciting, but I’ll cover it in the next post! Until then, Cheers!

^^ The car gang on our way to Milford Sound

^^ A snippet of Milford Sound

David Bayer

Biomedical Engineering

University of New South Wales in Sydney, Australia

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Sleeping Arrangements

Thorns and Jasmine

In which Caldyn understands something fundamentally wrong.

Warnings: Panic attack, low self-worth

This should give me five in a row in my second BTHB, and will be the last one of this card I fill. Going forward, my writing will not (longer? apparently most never did) fit the style of this event, so that’s it for me.

This one is set a while after he’s settled in the valley, and has already met Seyonna. I wasn’t sure if I should be posting it, but then I realized most of the people still following this story are also the ones who read the novel, so... like any other fandom, right? Right.

Masterlist

Caldyn sat in the entrance of the cave and listened to the rain. It was a heavy rain, pattering on the leaves, splashing on the ground, drowning out every other sound, but it was no storm. There was no wind, driving the drops against the cliff side or away from it, no thunder in the distance. Just water, so much water, falling from the sky since before dawn.

There had been a time he would have disliked a day such as this. When he had needed to go out each day to find food and water, when he had wanted to go out each day to find distraction, rain such as this would have made him pause. Would perhaps have made him wait, too, hoping that it would pass rather than become worse. Hoping it would not hinder him more at a later time, when he had no choice but to venture out. It wasn’t so much that he disliked the water, not like Seyonna; even now, he occasionally lifted a leg, to push his toes so far out, the drops coated his bark with moisture.

But he disliked the wet forest floor, making it so much easier to slip, to lose the grip on his staff. He disliked how everything felt different when wet, making it harder to find familiar marks and paths. And, while he didn’t mind the water per se, he disliked the cold that came with it. He tried not to think about it, how the only times he had ever felt truly cold had been the times he had been close to dying. It wasn’t quite the same, but on days when his thoughts already wandered along those dark paths, it could be enough to push him too far.

Those days had become rarer lately.

A quiet rustling noise behind him made him smile and pull his leg back, stretching it out in front of him as he turned toward the back of the cave.

Seyonna had made herself quite at home during those past weeks. She was always busy with something. Little odds and ends she had brought from the humans, half a dozen crafting projects and a lamp or two now filled his cave, made it feel more like a home than ever. Yet they were always in the same places; on the ‘table’ — a wooden board balanced on a rock formation, Caldyn had never found much use for — or in several boxes, bearing a sign for her name. She always took care to not let something lie around where he wouldn’t expect it, so he wouldn’t brush against it, or worse, stumble over it. On the rare occasions when she had to occupy a different spot, or move one of his belongings, she always made sure to tell him, perhaps even show him.

It felt so natural to have her at his side, in his life, Caldyn had almost managed to stop wondering about whether she would leave. Every time she spoke about a future, their future, here, he pushed those thoughts further back. Her talks about getting a second rug, building a shelf or growing a bridge all made it seem like she truly intended to stay.

It would have been easy to ask; three, four words were all that were needed. But the gnawing terror of what if she says no kept him from asking this question out loud once more, as he instead concentrated on the noise she made. It sounded a bit like sweeping the floor, but it was lacking the distinct noise of the broom she had brought from the humans.

“What are you doing there?” he asked idly, nothing but mild curiosity behind his words.

“Well, I’m tired of getting up almost each night to come over,” she said.

It didn’t matter that her words didn’t carry the annoyance he expected to hear, or that they didn’t make sense of the sounds he had listened to a moment before. They froze his core and made his stomach drop. Of course she was tired of his nightmares. Everyone would be.

If he only knew how to stop them, he’d do it in an instant.

He had tried his best not to wake her. Sometimes it was enough to know that she was there, to reach out to her warm energy. Other times he had to get closer, sit next to her for the rest of the night, not touching her, but knowing that he could. He always hoped she wouldn’t notice, tried to get up and find something to busy himself with before dawn. There was no way for him to tell if it worked.

But more often than not, she was already at his side when he awoke, and the feeling in his throat and his aching limbs told him that he must have screamed and lashed out. She always managed to calm him down eventually, talking to him about a million things he could never remember on the next day. Touching him so her strange, beautiful warmth could chase away the terror that held him captive. Sometimes he even managed to fall asleep again, something he had never dared when he was on his own. And every time he awoke after, she was still at his side, her warm hands buried in his leaves, her jasmine smell all around him.

Caldyn pulled his legs close, wrapping his arms around them in the hopeless attempt to ward off the cold creeping up on him from the inside. Perhaps, in the end, this would be why she’d leave. Not because she had to return to the Tiyatsin, not because she grew tired of this place, of a dark cave and a swamp full of the water she hated so much, but because of him.

He had toyed with the thought of coming with her, if she decided to go back. Of trying once more to live beneath the parent tree, closing himself off from the aether. He would miss the humans, and he would feel completely useless without his magic, unable to heal, to help. It was a price he might be willing to pay, to see his friends again, to stay at her side.

But if she left because of him, that wouldn’t really be an option, would it. Caldyn didn’t bother reaching for his head as it started to hurt, feeling the all too familiar burning pressure behind his eyes. Perhaps Gawyn had been right. He was too broken to ever be with someone again. How could he burden someone he loved with his fears and his nightmares and his pain?

“Caldyn? What’s wrong?”

Seyonna was suddenly next to him. He hadn’t heard her come closer. Even now, as he forced himself to lift his head, everything sounded muffled, drowned out by more than just the rain. He wanted to tell her that he was fine, that it was nothing, but when he opened his mouth, no words came out. Why couldn’t he speak, why couldn’t he at least smile, why couldn’t he… he couldn’t even breathe, he realized, gasping for air that wouldn’t fill his lungs.

A terrified noise escaped his lips, and he hated himself for it. She’d be worried. She was worried, he could feel it in the meaning, touching his mind, even when her words didn’t reach his ears. She shouldn’t worry. He wanted to feel the smile in her words and hear her laughter, not the concern and sadness that reached him every time she had to pick him up when he fell apart. She shouldn’t be sad. Not because of anything, but least of all because of him.

Her warm touch on his shoulder made him whimper quietly again. He wanted to pull away from it, to flee so she wouldn’t have to see him like this. He wanted to lean into it, to soak up her warmth. In the end, he did nothing, just sat there, trembling and frozen in terror he couldn’t put into words.

“It’s alright. I’m here. You’re safe,” she said. The words felt familiar, as if she had spoken them over and over again. Perhaps she had, and it was just now that he understood them. He could feel her arms around him, warm on his freezing limbs, and smell a hint of jasmine, drowned out by his desperate gasps for air.

“Breathe with me,” she whispered, pulling him closer so his back was against her chest. He could feel it rise and fall. He could feel the fabric of her dress against his leaves and the touch of her fingers in his hair. “Breathe. It’s gonna be alright.”

It was easy to let the sound of her voice carry him, even if her words still barely reached him. Almost as easy, somehow, to follow her words, to breathe with her in the rhythm of her own breaths. They matched the pace of her fingers, stroking his hair. After a while the dizziness faded, but the exhaustion stayed. He felt like he could fall asleep right then and there, but he fought against it. He had to cling to what could very well be the last moment with her he’d ever get.

“Can you tell me what happened?” she asked quietly, still stroking his hair.

Caldyn shook his head. He couldn’t. Even if he could speak, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t allow her to blame herself for this. Not when it was his fault, really; it were his delusional hopes he had allowed himself, his horrible nightmares that would chase her away.

“Was it something outside? In here? Something I said? Something I did?” Her words faded again, barely breaking through the haze in his mind, as she recounted the events of the morning; not that there were many. He couldn’t follow them. He felt impressions of their breakfast, of rain, of twisted wood and drying moss, until a sharp inhale made him flinch.

“Oh no.”

There was so much horror behind Seyonna’s words. Caldyn raised his head, almost managing to form the words for a concerned question. Almost. As it was, he only moved his lips, raising his trembling hand to reach for her. She grabbed it, squeezed it, clinging to it.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry, I didn’t mean… You didn’t notice… Of course you didn’t, you can’t see, I should have thought of that.” Seyonna talked as fast and disconnected as she rarely did, at least not in those last weeks. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but then you looked at me, and I thought… oh this is all my fault, I’m so sorry, Caldyn.”

Still holding onto his hand, she jumped to her feet.

“Can you stand? I need to show you something. I mean, if you can’t, I can tell you, but I think you need to see it yourself, and it isn’t that far, just a few steps. Can you try? I’ll help you.”

What her whispered assurances hadn’t managed to do, her torrent of words did; it snapped him out of it. He was halfway up by the time he realized his hands were barely shaking anymore. Still, he clung to the wall, knowing that Seyonna wouldn’t be able to hold all of his weight, should he falter. He didn’t trust his left leg; as always it hurt, his knee barely carrying his weight as he tested it. It would work for a few steps, though. It had to.

He barely managed one before Seyonna was at his side, putting his left arm around her shoulder. 

“Let me help you. Please,” she pleaded. As little as he wanted to be a burden to her, he couldn’t deny her this wish. Not when she sounded so desperate, even if he couldn’t understand why.

Seyonna led him across the cave, a few steps only, before his toes touched the familiar frame. He had woven it from young branches, to keep this bedding in place. For a moment, Caldyn was confused; he hadn’t expected to reach it yet. Usually he was quite good at measuring distances in his home without thinking. It probably wasn’t a surprise that his hazy thoughts and heavy limbs failed him, though. Perhaps he should sit down, he thought, allow Seyonna to bring whatever she had wanted to show him to him instead, if possible.

He reached out with his right hand, leaning towards the wall that had to be there — and almost fell over forwards when it wasn’t there. It was only Seyonna’s grip on his left arm that kept him from losing his balance, from stumbling into the rock face first.

Caldyn shuffled his feet, feeling for the wooden frame with his toes. Was he still this confused? He had done the very same motion dozens, perhaps hundreds of times. What he felt just wasn’t right.

“Careful,” Seyonna said. She was so close, so warm, it was hard for him to concentrate on anything but the soft touch of her hair on his shoulder. “Here’s the wall.”

She had somehow reached around him, guiding him one step forward, directing his right hand until he could feel the rock. It was familiar, and suddenly everything felt right again, but the confusion still lingered, making him dizzy. He used the wall to steady himself as he sat down, letting his arm slip off Seyonna’s shoulder in the process. She sat down next to him, so close he could feel her warmth on his bark.

“I’m so sorry. You must have thought…” She paused, and he heard the quiet noise of her playing with the bands of her dress, as she so often did when she was nervous. He was nervous, too. His mind still hadn’t quite caught up, and he wondered if she could guess the extent of his dark thoughts.

“Anyway, all I wanted was to move my bed. So I can sleep next to you. So I don’t have to get up at night. That way I’m right there when you need me, and perhaps I can even notice it sooner. When you have a nightmare, I mean. I never meant to say… whatever it sounded like.”

She had… moved the bed? Caldyn leaned forward, reaching for where he expected the bed to end, finding nothing but more dried moss and soft leaves. He couldn’t reach the end of it from where he was sitting. He leaned back against the wall again, turning slightly so he was facing her, head inclined.

“Is that… is that alright?” she asked, so much uncertainty behind her words. “I guess I should have asked, but I had this idea this morning, and I wanted it to be a surprise, and I didn’t think you’d mind, because you always seem so happy in the mornings. But if you don’t want me to, then I’ll put it all back, I promise.” She paused, perhaps waiting for him to say something, but he was too overwhelmed to reply. When she continued, she talked even quicker, a thing he wouldn’t have thought possible. “And if we leave it like that, you don’t have to come over anymore to sit next to me, because I know you do, even if I don’t know why. Well, I guess so you don’t wake me up, but I told you, I don’t mind, Caldyn, please, wake me up if you need me. I want to help you, even if I can’t do much.”

Not much? He’d have to tell her just how much she did for him, how much she saved him, every single night. But he couldn’t, not now, not before he had figured out how to phrase it without making it obvious how desperately he needed her. He didn’t want to put this on her.

“It’s…” It was hard for Caldyn to find his voice again, to make the words leave his lips. “You don’t… have to.”

Seyonna sighed. There were so many emotions behind the sound, he couldn’t tell them apart; he stopped trying when she snuggled up to him, leaning her head against his chest.

“I… I like not sleeping alone, too, you know,” she said so quietly, it was barely more than a whisper.

There was both loneliness and happiness behind her words. It made his chest tight as he wrapped his arms around her. It was a selfish thought, he realized, to consider that she might have chosen this not only for his sake. Believing that perhaps he could offer her a bit of comfort, too, provided an excuse to not reject her offer, even if he knew that she gave so much more to him than he could ever give her back.

“Come. Let’s rest a bit.” Her hand on his side coaxed him to lie down, to bed his head on the pillow, his back towards the wall. “I thought I’d sleep here, on this side. That way I can easily get up if you need something, and you can touch the wall. I know you sometimes do.”

Caldyn was almost surprised she had noticed it; almost. She noticed so much, so many little things. And yet she barely ever asked, just like she didn’t ask now. Instead she laid down next to him, reaching for her own pillow to stuff it under her head. It was so close, one corner of it tickled his chin. Then she was so close, too. He resisted the urge to pull her even closer, instead interlacing his fingers with hers as she reached for his left hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Caldyn shifted a bit, so he could move the arm he was lying on. He didn’t get far, just managed to touch her lightly, feel soft fabric under his fingertips, and warm bark.

“Don’t. I’d never… blame you.”

He had promised her that on the first day, and it was still true. It wasn’t her fault when the darkness dragged him down, when a smell or a world made him lose his grip on reality. He wouldn’t blame her for turning her back on him, either, but she never did. Instead she pulled him back, every time, with all her patience and warmth. Saving him, just like she had earlier, like she did now. The last bit of tension left his body as a soft touch on his forehead made him relax. Perhaps it wouldn’t last forever; but for now she was here, and she didn’t seem to want to leave, and that was already more than he’d ever have dreamed of.

[ID: The top image is a banner showing red, glowy plants. Across it   is written the title of the story, Thorns & Jasmine, in a bright to dark green gradient. The letters are slightly thorny looking. All other  images in this post are purely ornamental lines. End ID.]

Tagging: @dont-touch-my-soup​ @whump-cravings​ @badthingshappenbingo​

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Love Beyond the Black - CH 4

Fandom: Ateez Rating: Mature Pairing: Jung Wooyoung/Choi San, with a little bit of Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa sprinkled in AO3 Masterlist

Summary: Wooyoung is the son of a merchant sailor for the King, one of his best. He is coming of age to prepare to take his fathers place as the captain, and so his father takes him on his first sail. After nearly facing death in a raging storm at sea, Wooyoung and his father make port at their destination. Not long after their arrival Wooyoung finds a boy washed up on sea, still alive, and the most gorgeous thing he has ever laid his eyes on. He is instantly entranced by him, taken by this boy with no memory of where he came from or why he had been washed up on shore. Wooyoung couldn't have cared any less about the unanswered questions, but how will he feel when he finds out the boy he has so very quickly fallen in love with turns out to be one of the most revered pirates to have ever sailed the seas?

*** MY WORK IS NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER SITE WITHOUT MY EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION. THOUGH REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE SUPER LOVED AND APPRECIATED! THANKS FAM!***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter four

     The ship was still in need of repairs, but Wooyoung couldn't have cared any less. He was certainly in no rush to get back out to sea, and things had honestly been quite good lately. They’d been stuck in Nero for over a week, and where normally Wooyoung would be dying to get home, he didn't care if they never left.

     Over the last week, he'd spent almost all of it with San. There wasn't much they could do down at the docks while the ship was being repaired, so they spent their time walking through the town or laying in the fields beyond the kingdom walls. Sometimes they merely stayed in their room all day and laid side by side, San’s hand on Wooyoung’s hip while Wooyoung ran his hands down San’s face and chest and arms. It was perfection, bliss, and Wooyoung never wanted it to end. 

     Today was one of their stay in bed days. They had woken tangled in each other's arms and legs, and for the sixth night in a row Wooyoung had woken from a full night's sleep, not a single plaguing nightmare. The day had passed while they laid there together, talking and wasting the day away. 

     Wooyoung had gotten up in the late evening, and made his way down to the kitchen to gather some food for himself and San. On his way back he passed his father’s room. The door was slightly open and voices were coming from inside. One he knew was his fathers and the second sounded like his new chief mate. He stopped to listen, curious as to if they were speaking about the state of the ship and if they would be forced to leave soon. 

     From the crack of the door he could see his father leaned back in a chair, his feet crossed in front of him while he spoke. "The ship should be ready any day now, so ensure the crew is ready to leave at a moment's notice. As soon as the ship is ready I would like to return home, we've been far too long away."

     "Yes sir," the new chief mate answered, "and what of this boy Wooyoung found washed up along shore? Have you decided what to do with him? I assume his memories have still yet to return?"

     His father was silent for a moment, Wooyoung could see him scratching his fingers over his chin in thought. Then he leaned forward and planted both feet firmly on the ground before he answered, "I shall take him with me, as I promised. He has been a good friend to Wooyoung during our time here and has kept very close to him, seems to want to protect him."

     "As he should. Your boy saved his life."

     His father smiled and then leaned back again. "How can I deny him when he treats Wooyoung the way he does? So he will come home with us, live with us, and should his memory return and it so happens that he has a family waiting on him somewhere else, then we will return him to them. Until then he is welcomed with us."

     "Wooyoung will be happy then," the chief mate smiled, "good thing the boy didn't turn out to be the pirate you feared he could have been."

     Before Wooyoung's father had a chance to respond, Wooyoung was through the door without having realized his feet had moved of their own accord. "A pirate?" He was shocked, his eyebrows were practically in his hair. "You thought San was a pirate?"

     "Wooyoung! Have I not told you about listening at doors!?" His father scolded him, but then his expression softened and he turned to fully face his son. "I know San is not a pirate. He is far too gentle a man to be anything like those monsters. He bears no scars or tattoos like any other pirate would, brands of the life they live. But it was a thought I had to entertain, especially since he is so close to you. That storm could have wrecked any ship, even that of the greatest pirates who sail the seas. But not to worry, Wooyoung, I trust him with your life. I have seen the way he takes care of you, no longer do I worry about a pirate slumbering within him."

     "Good," Wooyoung nodded, "and he can still come with us."

     "Yes," his father answered, smiling at his son as he did, "San will be staying with us. I promised to take care of him, and I intend to keep it. So both of you make sure to be ready to set sail as soon as the ship is ready. Pack your things and make sure San has everything he needs for the journey, anything else he doesn't have we will get for him when we return home."

     Wooyoung said nothing more and ran off down the hall. He burst into his shared room with San and found the man lounging on the bed, waiting for him to return. He placed the plate of food he'd grabbed from the kitchen on the bedside table and all but jumped on top of San.

     He laughed and grabbed Wooyoung in his lap, lifted and turned him so he was straddling him with Wooyoung hands wrapped around his neck. "What's gotten you so excited?"

     "I overheard my father speaking with one of the crew." San watched him curiously and waited for him to continue, while his hands rubbed idle circles on his hips where they rested. "He said that the ship will be ready any day now and we'll be returning home soon! And of course, as promised, you'll be coming with us!"

     San smiled and pulled Wooyoung against him for a tight embrace. "I owe you and your father everything. You for saving my life and your father for taking me in, despite my memories still not returning."

     "Speaking of that." Wooyoung pulled back and moved off his lap to sit beside San. “I Also overheard my father talking about how he was worried when I first found you, that you could have been a pirate who washed off a ship during that storm."

     Wooyoung laughed, but San’s face scrunched and his lips pulled into a frown. "What if he's right?"

     "San, he's not," Wooyoung said, placing a hand on his cheek, "like he said, you're far too kind and gentle to ever be a pirate. It's not possible."

     San thought about it for a moment, and once again tried to regain some kind of memory that could help him figure things out, but there was nothing. Just a continuous empty void. "But there's a chance… I don't remember anything, so maybe-"

     "San," Wooyoung turned his head back to face him, staring him down intently while he spoke slowly, "you are not a pirate, and I don't believe that you could ever be one. The San I have come to know, even over this short of time, is not capable of the devilishly cruel life of a pirate."

     He watched Wooyoung for a moment, saw the truth and sincerity glistening in his eyes as he stared back, and smiled. "Yeah, you're right. I could never be so ruthless or merciless."

     "Good," Wooyoung answered, then turned and grabbed the plate of food and passed it to San, "now eat, and then we have to make sure we are packed and ready to go as soon as the ship’s ready. Then we can lay in bed all night and relax."

     "Sounds perfect."

~~~~~~~~~~~

     "What are you reading?"

     Wooyoung placed a finger in the book and closed it as he turned to look at San and showed him the title. "It's called Everlasting."

     "What's it about?" San asked and scooted closer to him on the bed.

     "It's a romance," he answered, then ran a hand gently down the book as he continued, "it's about a wealthy woman in England who falls for a poor servant boy who works in her family's stables. She loves him so much, but it's expected of her to marry according to her status, so a poor stable worker is not good enough for her, especially in the eyes of her father. So they try to run away together, but they get caught and the boy gets thrown in a cell and sentenced to death."

     "Why?!"

     Wooyoung chuckled at his enthusiasm, and answered, "Because the girl's father accused him of kidnapping his daughter. And because he had such a high status, his word was taken over the poor boys and he was given the sentence."

     "What else? Does she save him? Do they get to be together?!" He had practically crawled into Wooyung’s lap, begging for answers.

     "Unfortunately no," he answered, giving San a small smile when his lips turned downward, "not in life anyway." San gave him a quizzical look that Wooyoung found extremely cute, so he continued. "She is forced to watch his execution and it destroys her. Then her father forces her into a marriage she doesn't want with some high class brat who she hates. All the while the only thing she can think of is her lost love. In the end, because she just can never forget him or the love they shared while he was alive, she kills herself while laying on his grave to be with him. So they meet again in the afterlife and it turns out he'd been waiting there for her the whole time, and they finally get to be happy together in the end. It's a sad ending, but kind of happy I guess. I've read it before, but it's honestly one of my favourites. You can read it when I'm finished if you want."

     San frowned and shook his head. "I can't read." It was Wooyoung's turn to look confused. "I don't know if it's because of the memory loss, or maybe I was just never taught, but I can't read. I tried to read some over your shoulder earlier, but I couldn't."

     "I could teach you," Wooyoung offered with a smile, happy to do so.

     San thought it over then shook his head and said. "Or you could just read it to me. I'd rather just sit and listen to your voice anyway."

     Wooyoung beamed and maybe even blushed a little, though he didn't try to hide it. Instead he just sat further back against the headrest, stretched his legs out, and patted them for San to lay down. He settled in right away, laying on his back with his legs hanging over the bed, staring up at Wooyoung as he turned the book back to page one and began to read.

     "Elizabeth was a quiet girl." His hand instantly found its way to San’s hair, playing with it idly while he read and San purred at the touch. "A good girl. She made no fuss and caused no grief. Did everything she was told and always with the sweetest smile. She was loved by all she came across, admired by many more, and cherished as her fathers only daughter. Elizabeth was a good girl, until she met Edward."

     "The poor stable boy!" San gasped, and wrapped a hand into the front of Wooyoung's shirt.

     He laughed and ran his hand through San’s hair again. "Yes, he's the stable boy." The he turned back to the book. "Edward's father had worked for Elizabeth’s family for years, and upon his retirement, Edward took up his place in her family's stables. What was supposed to be a simple job for him, turned out to be a change in his life he would have never expected."

~~~~~~~~~~~

     The next two days found Wooyoung and San never leaving the bed. San was so fixated on the book, on the story of Elizabeth and Edward and their growing love, that all he wanted to do from sunrise until sunset was listen to Wooyoung reading. Sometimes San would even snuggle close to his side and hold a candle near the pages, just so they could continue into the night. Wooyoung didn't mind one bit.

     By the second evening they were over the halfway mark and just getting to some of the good parts, one of them being one of the more passionate scenes that was Wooyoung’s favourite. He had a feeling San was going to enjoy it as well, if his love for the previous romantic scenes in the book was any indication.

     "It was this night,” Wooyoung read, “this chilled autumn night, with a star-covered sky and the sounds of owls and crickets playing the symphony of their love, that Elizabeth and Edward decided to become one. 

     She was nervous, excited, her entire body thrumming with nerves. After dinner that night with her parents, she retired to her room and immediately ran to her window to throw it open. Edward had said he would light a torch in the barn window when the other stable hands had left, when it was safe for them to be together for the night without the risk of being caught.

     She waited there, perched on her window for what seemed like hours before the torch finally bathed the barn window in a bright orange. Finally their time had come.

     Elizabeth climbed over the window sill and out into the cool night air. She ran across the yard to where the barn was and quietly snuck inside. Her nerves made themselves known again, twisting her stomach in all kinds of knots, but she pushed them aside and walked further into the barn.

     Edward was there, as promised, waiting for her. He had set up the loft with a blanket, some old torn pillows, and surrounded it in lit candles, all ready for their night of romance. 

     Edward held out his hand to her, led her up the stairs and into the loft. Without a single word said between them he helped her down to the blanket, laid her back and settled himself between her legs…" Wooyoung paused for just a moment, long enough to look down at San where he was laying in his lap. He was on his side with his arms wrapped around Wooyoung's waist and his head turned so he could look up at him. His eyes were wide, the anticipation in them was clear. Wooyoung was right, he had known San would like this part of the book just as much as he did. 

     Wooyoung quickly snapped the book shut and placed it on the bedside table out of San’s reach. "I think that's probably enough for tonight, we can read more tomorrow."

     "What?!" He shook his head and jolted up, staring at Wooyoung in disbelief. "We can't stop there! You have to keep reading."

     He reached over Wooyoung and tried to grab the book, but he grabbed his hand and stopped him. "I think it's a perfect place to stop," he smirked, knowing this would get San going, "and it's already dark, it's getting hard to see the pages in the candle light."

     "But I need to know what happens!" Wooyoung simply laughed at him. Then San sat up fully, twisting so that he was straddling Wooyoung's lap. "You could just tell me then, so I'm not left wondering. Tell me what happens."

     Wooyoung smiled at him and settled his hands on his chest, rubbing gentle circles as he spoke. "Elisabeth and Edward get to have the night they were hoping for. They spend the night together, making passionate love until the sun rises the next morning, and then she leaves him with a kiss and the promise of more nights spent in bliss."

     San sighed, as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. "Good," he said, "but I need to know more! I need to know how their night went, and if they realize how much they love each other," then added with a coy tone and a sly smirk, "I guess that, during their night of passion, there would have been lots of kissing, a lot more than just one simple goodnight kiss."

     "I would think so," Wooyoung agreed, matching his sudden seductive sway.

     "And they probably get really close, just like this." He leaned in to Wooyoung, touched their noses together, felt the breath catch in his throat.

     "Yeah," he nodded, his breathing picking up.

     "And then…" San moved in all the way, closing the gap and placing a gentle kiss on Wooyoung's lips. It was simple, merely a press of lips on lips, nothing more. But it was the most exhilarating thing either of them had ever felt, a spark that lit their nerves on fire.

     When they parted they kept close, their lips ghosting as they lingered in each other's space. "Have…" Wooyoung started, still breathless, "Have you ever kissed anyone before?"

     "I can't remember," San shook his head, nudging his nose against Wooyoung’s as he did, making him laugh, "but if I had I think I would have remembered, especially if it felt like that."

     "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

     San just smiled and leaned in again for another kiss, intending this time to take more from Wooyoung and give him even more in return. 

     Wooyoung jolted up to meet him, eager, needing San to devour him, craving his touch already.

     The halls outside erupted into sudden chaos, and both boys pulled back and turned to face the door, frozen. They could hear screaming, people running through the halls. It sounded like people were falling, banging into walls and knocking things over. It made Wooyoung's skin tingle and his hair stand up on edge. He clutched to San’s shirt as the commotion continued on endlessly, and his breathing picked up for an entirely different reason.

     The door to their room burst open and San jolted from the bed, placing himself between Wooyoung and whatever was coming through the door.

     "Boys!" It was Wooyoung's father. His face was white and panicked, there was sweat gathered on his brow. "We have to leave now!"

     "Father, what's going on?"

     He ran into the room and grabbed the two bags Wooyoung had packed for him and San, and slung them over his shoulder before he turned back and uttered one single word that left their blood running ice cold. "Pirates."

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I know it's been a while, but things got a little crazy around here for a while, but I am back with another chapter for you! I hope you like it, things are starting to get a bit more heated between San and Wooyoung... XD

[spirituallyyellow]

17/5/24

A couple of weeks after the very bad day, N and the kids travelled to the small island where his parents live for a visit over the long weekend. This had been arranged ages previously, and when N asked me if I wanted to book a last minute ticket to join them, I said no. Mainly because I didn't want to deal with his family on top of all the emotions I was dealing with.

I did think, after they left, that I wouldn't have recommended to a client that they spend four days totally alone less than a month after a suicide attempt, or serious suicide consideration, but I didn't say anything.

It's hard to explain the exhaustion I felt after that day. It was like a bone-deep, soul-sucking lethargy. I've heard that in accidents where people nearly die, they'll spend a few days afterwards just sleeping constantly while their body heals. I think I was sleeping constantly while my brain was trying to heal itself.

I would sit upright and it was like my body was trying to melt to the floor. I would open my eyes and feel like I had worked out. I'd try to breathe, and I could feel tears form. So mostly I just turned over in bed, pulled the curtain open as best as I could without getting up, and then lay there and looked out the window. I don't have a particularly nice view, so mostly I just became extremely familiar with the row of rooftops behind our house. Maybe the occasional pigeon.

Friday night I played D&D. Saturday I woke up and I could feel the creeping doom. I sat in silence most of the day, scrolling through Reddit or just looking out the window. Or sleeping - I did that, too. I had a Call of Cthulhu game scheduled that night and I almost bailed on it, but I forced myself to go. I knew I really didn't need to stay home alone.

I went. I had a good time.

I came home, and the alone-ness was overpowering. I put all my stuff down, stood in the middle of the living room, and felt my breathing shift, getting more and more unsteady as my thoughts raced. I don't know what to do, I just want to die, just let me die, please God just let me die, just die justdiejustdiejustdie and then Dandelion, my cat, woke up and yowled at me. I fed him some treats and then sat down. I pulled out my journal and started to write an unsent letter (by which I mean one of those letters that you write to someone just to get all the feelings out, but you never send nor intend to send), but I got one sentence in and said, "This is stupid. I don't want to think about this." It occurred to me that I never had painted the drawings I did in Manchester. I paused for a little bit, unsure if opening that particular can of worms was going to make things worse, but I was feeling reckless enough to just say fuck it, and I got out my watercolours and dug out a paintbrush and opened my notebook.

I felt a little shaky at first, but I put on my Amazing Devil Spotify playlist and I quickly just started seeing the colours and shades I wanted.

I started painting around 10:30 at night, and then suddenly it was 2am and I had finished painting everything and I didn't even notice the time pass. My breathing was steady, I wasn't crying, I was tired but in a more normal way. I was tired because I'd stayed up late making something, instead of being tired because I wasn't sleeping because I was busy feeling terrible. I went to bed and slept.

_

I haven't been sleeping well recently. I woke up at 2:30 in the morning a couple of days ago, my mind racing again. I laid in bed, wrestling with whether or not to let someone else know about all of this for over an hour. I finally sent a message, and then had such terrible pain flood through me that I actually thought I might be dying. I ended up getting up and getting a shower at like 4am just to distract myself.

I got back into bed, put on my Christian meditation app, and fell asleep relatively quickly, but I felt bad all day. Everything hurt, I struggled to concentrate on anything, I just wanted to go home and go back to sleep.

I had a message back and of course it was fine, and of course I'm making up a story in my head that it's actually not really fine and I've murdered a friendship again by not knowing when to shut the fuck up, but I'm trying to let the thoughts pass without comment. I cried really hard for about ten minutes, and then put on music and caught the bus to a village about 45 minutes away and bought some yarn for a project I'm working on. N offered to come pick me up, but I said no, I'd just get the bus back. To be honest, I just wanted to listen to music in peace for a little longer.

[lianabrooks]

A Year Of Doing Less – Welcome to 2024

Happy New Year!

2024 has tiptoed into my life on silent cat paws of fog. It’s 8am and I’m slowly enjoying my breakfast as I sit down to write and make my Monday to-do list. I’m grateful that this is happening in a hushed house where most of the family is still asleep because the nearest shop won’t open for several more hours. I’m in the Land of the Morning Calm where the majority of people are not morning people and where no one thinks twice about starting your day much closer to noon than my old 5am wake-up times when I was on the rowing team in college.

I like that I have this little pocket of space to think. To mull over the coming months. To really dive into what I want.

My writing partner reached out this morning to tell me about an author doing a 2,024-word-per-day challenge for the year and, let me tell you, I almost spit out my hot cocoa. That is decidedly not my goal this year.

In fact, I’m scaling back in 2024.

As many of you know, I have a writing calendar that I fill in with stickers every day for writing, editing, and general office work. Because secretly I’m 3 and I really love stickers. It works for me because I have an instant visual reminder of what I’ve done, and I get the beautiful dopamine hit of putting a sticker on paper when I finish my work.

But, in 2023, I realized my desk calendar with my writing recorded doesn’t have the full story. In fact, none of my calendars have the whole story. I have one for appointments, one for writing, one for work, and one for volunteer work. None of those four have my daily parental tasks of getting kids to school, overseeing meals, grocery shopping, bill paying, ect.

I glanced at my regular calendar that only has appointments above and beyond the regular schedule and I realized I had 100 days not scheduled in 2024. Day 1 and I am already two-thirds booked.

That made me step back and re-evaluate my plan for 2024.

I am under contract for two books. I have promised my agent a new title to shop in 2024/25. I have multiple editing clients booked for the year.

That’s on top of commitments to family and friends, my local community, and myself.

I know SELF can get dropped out of the planning a lot of the time. If you’re a certain age and background you were probably taught to put yourself last and prioritize other people. You probably will give up your time for a massage to go help a neighbor or pick up that extra shift. But I’m not twenty any more and I do actually need to make time for myself and my health.

So I’m taking a three-pronged approach to 2024 so I can do everything I want while also not losing my mind (or health).

1) Less Writing Usually I earn a sticker for every 1000 words written towards a publishable novel. This year I’m dropping the word count requirement and giving myself a sticker any time I write. The goal of a writing session will be 400 words, 1/10th of what I usually write on a writing day.

There is science behind this decision. First off, Terry Pratchett aimed for 400 words a day and had a fabulous career and wrote a world he loved while being happy. I want that too. Second, quantity leads to quality. It’s the whole 100 Pots thing taught at every motivational speaker event for the past two decades. If you ask half a class to make 100 pots and the other half to make one perfect pot, the group that makes 100 pots will be the ones who make better pots.

In 2023 I wrote 182,000 words, but I was writing only a few days a week. It was inconsistent, and I was only writing when I could guarantee I had the time to write at least 1000 words. At this point in my life that’s not sustainable, so I’m not going to do it. I’m going to aim for small, daily sessions. If I write 400 words five days a week I’ll write 104,400.

Who wants to bet I’ll write more than 104,400 words in 2024? I am.

2) The 2024 BINGO Card Someone introduced me to this idea in passing while I was in Australia last week, and I love it. The idea is that you write down a bunch of crowd-sourced, random things that are either goals or events or even disasters, and put them on a bingo card. When something happens, you mark it off. When you have bingo, you celebrate.

I’m crowd-sourcing my bingo card with family and friends this week and aiming to make a card that’s optimistic. It’s a little silly and a little different, and I love that for me.

3) Setting A Fun Goal This came from another conversation with friends and a social media post about setting goals like Seeing The Most Birds or Having Weekly Picnics. And that honestly sounds like so much more fun than the usual list of goals.

There are reasons people set goals involving health or good habits, and I support that. But I also suspect that those healthy goals are much easier to reach if you are having fun while you hit those goals. Mindset is a huge part of success in any venture. If you believe in something and you enjoy it, you’re much more likely to succeed. Citation needs? Citation provided, my friend, USC published a study on this only a few months ago (https://appliedpsychologydegree.usc.edu/blog/how-liking-your-job-will-help-you-succeed).

I’m still looking for my fun goal. If you’ve got a great idea please drop it in the comments.

As we fly into 2024 I hope you find something joyous. I hope you wake you wake up every day with something to look forward to and spend more of your time with people who love and support you. I hope that by bringing optimism to your daily life you end 2024 much better than you ended 2023 (if it’s possible – I know a few of you are going out on a very high note, and I’m proud of you).

Happy 2024, everyone, let’s have a magical year!

[the-kneesbees]

hi fish <3 because you reblogged something about wanting to interact with people in your blog, i'm going to ask for your advice! <3

so, i have this friend. we're very close and we've been friends since forever. i love her and i know she loves me too. but she's been doing this thing that really bothers me for almost a year now. you see, every single time that we make plans, she cancels them in the last minute. sometimes she doesn't even let me know she isn't coming over, so i spend my day waiting for her, just for her to text me at 8pm like "sorry, i was sleeping. let's meet another day". i don't want to be harsh on her, because i know she went through a rough patch two years ago and she's still struggling. i know she doesn't mean to hurt me, i just think she's gotten so confortable with the idea that "i'm so understanding and i never get mad at her" (those are literal words she's used plenty of times) that she just cancels on me without taking into account my feelings anymore.

sometimes i will be all ready, dressed and make up on and with my bag in my hand and she will text me that she's not coming over. sometimes i cancel or move plans that i have with other people because she insists that she wants to see me, and then she doesn't come and i'm left not being able to do neither one nor the other. and i just don't know how to bring this up. because most of the time, she texts me things like she cannot come over/go to whatever plan we had made because she feels sick or she thinks her cat is acting strange so she's going to stay at home and keep an eye on it. i just feel bad calling her out, because i know these are valid excuses and i would feel absolutely terrible if i said something to her and all these excuses turned to be real. the thing is... it's happening so constantly that i don't know what to believe anymore. every week, she cancels on me at least once. last week we were both on holidays and she canceled on me four days in a row, and always with excuses that i cannot rebuke because i would be a terrible friend if I did.

i don't know what to do. it's something that's getting to me, and i'm starting to think that maybe she's making up things because she doesn't want to see me. and it's making me so sad. i feel so... unwanted? like, i must be someone horrible to hang out with or something. my other friends and even my mother have started to notice, how sad i'm becoming and how this situation has grown to be a constant in these past months. they know i'm hurt and they think i should just stay away from this friend because they feel like she's not being honest with me. i just don't know what to do, because confrontations make me anxious as fuck and i know i get emotional, and my friend tends to get defensive and that scares me even more. so... do you have any advice? <3

i'm sorry for dumping all of this on you! i guess i needed to take this off my chest and you're such a nice person, i couldn't pass the opportunity when i saw you wanted people to interact with on your blog <3 <3 (please, don't feel obligated to answer, i know this is probably too much! <3 )

hey alice <3

I'm not super great with advice, especially considering I've been in a similar situation and had no idea what to do, but I've had time to think about it since so I may be able to offer some help...since you said confrontation makes you anxious (totally understandable) maybe try mentioning that yall haven't been able to hang out and say something like- "hey! I've missed you lately, I feel like every time we try to hang out something comes up haha,,, you wanna try doing (x thing at x time)?" that way you can acknowledge that your plans keep getting canceled but not really call her out on it

or maybe make plans with her and another friend together so if she cancels you won't be left hanging.

if it's any consolation, it doesn't seem like she's doing it on purpose. you mentioned that she had asked you to hang out a few times, so the effort isn't one sided. it seems like she's just been getting busy.

but if you wanted to go the confrontation route, which I know is terrifying but sometimes it's important, try bringing it up in a way that also acknowledges her boundaries and stuff. maybe something like "hey, I've noticed that whenever we try to make plans you end up cancelling. this makes me feel bad cause I've really been looking forward to hang out with you. i know you're busy a lot so is there a way we can plan something that would work around your schedule?" or something like that idk..

I hope this is helpful sorry I'm not super good at advice haha..of its not, I'm glad you were able to hey this off your chest, and I hope things get figured out soon 💕💕

[boyfhee]

10 : 10 am | blue rose

G. friends to ? ( 0.7k )

N. me when i write impulsively. unedited help

heeseung thinks you should be more than friends.

no— he believes. it's an odd thought for ten in the morning, in middle of chemistry lesson, but heeseung doesn't mind. and just like an important presentation, he has all the reasonings jotted down on the back of his notebook, doodles with vines and hearts.

heeseung has known you for four years. not you, heeseung; he has known you for four years. he isn't the type to stand out amongst the crowd, for he seemingly dissolves into it like fine particles, almost too invisible to be sedimented. he doesn't enjoy attention. heeseung likes to be the to sit in middle of a row with ear phones and math occupying most of his day.

coming back to the point, four years, they have been terrible for him. the day you transferred to his middle school, his life turned upside down. you had taken the last bench, near the window, and still managed to have everyone in the class look at you as if you were the subject to their queries. you were the type to throw paper balls in the middle of the class. you made snarky comments, disturbed the momentum, ruined the decorum, destroy his peace of mind, made it hard for him to focus— there are so many reasons why you flipped his life style.

you don't know heeseung, you never tried to, until highschool. you knew there's a boy in your class, too quiet to mingle, too loud in his mind to speak anything.

you knew there was a lee heeseung in your class, that's it. that was your story.

now, in highschool first year, you know there's a lee heeseung in your class. the same lee heeseung who was your classmate in middle school. the one who keeps listening to that one tchaikovsky piece over and over again while solving math. the one who always caught your attention, but never mystic enough for you to reach him out.

you've known him for three months now, and that's how heeseung's story began.

there are so many reason as for why you and heeseung should be more than just friends. he has known you for four years, that's a lot more than any other friend you have in the school. he's the only one you seek at 2 am for late night escapades. his notes are the only reliable source of study material you refer to two weeks before exams. his number is the only one you've saved with a '<3' on your phone, and many more.

heeseung doesn't remember taking a liking to you at all. he remembers calling you annoying in front of everyone in middle school. he remembers cursing out at you when his team lost relay because you tripped. he remembers all the moments he hurt you. heeseung also remembers spending first three months of highschool sitting next to you, but he doesn't remember falling for you.

he doesn't remember doodling your name on the corner of his text books. he doesn't remember doing those silly compatibility tests with you on the palm of his hands. he doesn't remember losing his breath when you hugged him instinctively after you won your first relay in highschool. heeseung doesn't remember the important details.

once upon a time, there was you, that's it. that's his story. that's his beginning and his end, all from you.

heeseung doesn't remember falling for you but he realises that with every passing day, he falls even deeper. it's like going down even after hitting rock bottom. heeseung recalls when you held his hand for a group picture with your middle school friend and his heart exploded into a million butterflies. it's really nothing, just the way your hand fits in his; it's literally five plus five, and yet your touch had him orbiting and ripping his hair out strand by strand when that sensation slipped inside his head every night.

he really believes that you should be more than friends. heeseung believes you should be lovers instead.

but, then again it's all inside his head; and you're too busy being in love with jay to even notice his lovelorn eyes.

taglist in the rbs.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

In Bloom: Alpha!Geto x Fem!Omega!Reader

synopsis: take a look at this ask

wc: 2.9k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

Omega.

The lowest of the low.

You look at your reflection and ask the universe why you aren’t at least a beta. But today you and the other omegas would be passed off to various available and willing leaders of the pack, chosen only by scent.

“It’s not so bad,” your best friend, Geto Suguru, chimes in at breakfast, assuaging your fears. He’s an Alpha, but you know he wouldn’t choose you. You two were too close to consider being part of a household together; you had been best friends since you were young, and that was the extent of it - well, that’s what you knew was true. It’s not what you wanted to be true. “Plus, sometimes you’re not picked for mating, and you meet your mate later. It’s just an easier way to distribute enough people to avoid overwhelming each house.”

“The sniffing test sounds worse than it actually is,” your sister, Marie, chuckles, nudging her beta husband, Yuta. “You’ll see what I mean later.”

And later came sooner than you thought, you realize, standing in a room with the four other omegas in the pack who haven’t been claimed yet and are of age. Nostrils are flaring, eyes are dancing around, and your head is clouded with the smells of the other betas and alphas in the room in front of you.

“No one here is pleasing to me,” Nanami crosses his hands over his chest, looking at the head of the pack with disdain. Gojo shrugs, looking over the four of you with passing interest.

“Anyone?” Toji Fushiguro steps forward, eyeing you all carefully before picking Mei Mei, a small little thing that would definitely be dominated by him inside and outside the bedroom.

“I’ll add Mei Mei to my group.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, thankful that you wouldn’t be the one Toji picked. It was every girl’s worst fear - well, until he satisfied you in bed, of course. Rumors of his prowess in bed were enough to make any omega tense up, and he was famous for not having a single complaint come from his household about polyamory. In fact, both of his mates - Gunnar and Elizabeth - were some of the kindest and heartwarming people you had ever met, despite being mated the weapons handler for the pack.

“I’ll take Haibara,” Yuki, another Alpha, announces. You look over at the man - who had been waiting patiently for this moment - as he joined the only person he loved in the camp. Yuki’s choice had not been unexpected at all. But now it’s down to you and Urahime, and you eye her with curiosity. Would Geto choose her? Or would Gojo take her? Urahime was an introvert, and not really suited for being the head of the pack, so obviously--

“Urahime,” Gojo holds his hand out, and she shuffles toward him, her hair hiding the blush creeping up her cheeks. You look over to Geto, who smiles and crosses his arms over his broad chest before nodding at you.

But wait--

“Come on, y/n.”

Wait, but wasn’t he-- didn’t he say--

Aren’t we just--

You’re still dumbfounded as he walks you to his - now your - home, which isn’t too far from yours. Geto didn’t have a mate, nor did he have anyone else in the house. That was why he spent so much time with you and your sister in your home.

“Just see this as the main house,” Geto announces as you climb the stairs behind him. “We can bounce between your old one and here if you’d like.”

“Wait,” you finally murmur, finding your voice. “Why did you choose me? Was it because I was last?” Geto turns around, raising a brow as his hand lingers on the doorknob to his bedroom.

“I would’ve picked you first if we hadn’t cast lots to see what order we would go in. I lost this time.” He swings open the door, and you see the room has completely changed from what it used to be. What used to be a bachelor’s pad with flannel sheets, LED lights, gaming consoles, and a massive TV on the wall has become a light-filled room with grey curtains, cotton sheets, a bookshelf, and two comfortable chairs by the unused fireplace instead of swivel chairs and a banner that covered up the brick enclosure.

“You redid the room…” you breathe as you walk past him, and he smiles a toothy grin, watching you take in the transformed space. “All of this for me?” You touch the comforter, and eye the row of candles beside a wooden desk - all things that weren’t there before.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Am I here just to take care of the home? I understand if that’s the case. I’d be happy to--”

“Let’s talk about it over lunch,” he murmurs, and you jog to the kitchen downstairs. Your sister is already there, apparently coming in through the side door that’s closer to your former residence. She’s just finishing up making pulled pork sandwiches, and you help her set them on the dining room table.

“Not so bad, huh?” she laughs at you, and you shrug.

“I mean, staying with Suguru and helping out until he meets his mate is enough for me,” you smile, placing a bag of chips onto the table. Your sister raises her brow but says nothing else while you work. When you finish setting the table, you all take your places and begin to eat, the silence deafening. You glance at Geto, hoping he will explain your duties while you stay here, but he just looks at Yuta, who glares back at him.

“Just spit it out, Suguru,” your sister gripes, and Geto sighs, placing his sandwich back on his plate.

“So, y/n. I know today you joined my household, and I want to tell you why.”

“Sure,” you shift in your seat, placing a chip in your mouth before Suguru announces,

“I want to be mated to you.” Saliva and chip pieces create a blockage in your throat, and you cough, eyes falling to your lap as your sister pats your back roughly.

“Me?” you finally croak, still choking a little. “Are you sure? We’re friends, Geto, not--”

“I would hope that would come with time. But I wanted to know if you would stay with me. You can say no and move back into the house with your sister; I won’t be hurt.”

“It’s not like you would be doing anything you’re uncomfortable with,” your sister adds. “All of this will be at your pace.”

You scoot your chair back, and whisper, “I need some time to think.”

_____________________________________________________________

Your time to think about everything lasted more than one night. It lasted almost a whole two weeks, you realize when you look up from your wooden desk. Geto had given you the room to yourself, choosing to huddle on the couch downstairs or retreat to his study when necessary.

You hadn’t really touched on the prospect of mating with him the entire time, not wanting to betray your feelings for him as a big brother, but the part of you that saw him as a handsome and caring man (and potential mate) wouldn’t go away. Actually, it just grew as you cohabitated with him and learned more about him.

But today would be especially difficult, you remember, rubbing your thighs together. You look over at the collections of pillows and one stolen hoodie from Suguru’s closet. You try your best to avoid being near him because you know what kind of overdrive your heat would throw him into. So you stayed in your room for most of the time, using the master bathroom, and only coming out to eat when you knew he left to run an errand. Your stomach growls angrily, and you clutch at it, hoping Suguru would go out for lunch and leave you so you could grab food and just be left alone to decide what you want to do if anything. You pick up your phone and frantically text your sister:

SOS, need food

Within a moment, your phone buzzes and Marie replies:

Can’t you ask Suguru?

You furiously type:

No! Last day of pre-heat.

Seconds later, a knock at your door startles you so bad that you almost leap out of your seat, and you call out, “Yes?” The door opens to your dismay, and Suguru peeks his head in, his wet hair and grey shirt appearing first. Should’ve locked the door.

“Marie told me to check on you, are you…” He examines the nest of blankets, pillows, and the stolen hoodie, and the confusion in his eyes vanishes. “Oh.” You try not to grimace, but he closes the door behind him, retreating down the stairs then reappearing with a carton of juice and a bag of trail mix.

“I keep these around, just in case,” he explains, then walks out of the room. “Lock your door,” he warns, then shuts it behind him with finality.

_____________________________________________________________

The knob jiggles in the middle of the night.

That’s when you know your heat has started.

“You okay in there, y/n?” Suguru murmurs, lips pressed to the crack of the door. You shift the large blanket off of you and wipe the sweat from your face.

“I’m fine,” you croak and rub your face slowly. “Just tired.”

“L-let me know if you need anything.” You hear him slump against the door and slide down, effectively blocking any and all exits. “Do you want to go home to your sister?” he calls out, and you groan.

“No.” You didn't want to inconvenience your sister and Yuta in this way, and she’d already snitched on you once in hopes that your heat would push you and Suguru together.

“Sure you don’t need anything?”

“N-no.” You whisper, and he falls silent, no doubt attempting to figure out how he can get on the other side of the door. No, you still had to decide. If you held out for long enough, you’d find out that his feelings were just figments of your imagination, and Geto couldn’t be interested in an Omega like you. He needed a Beta, a beautiful one that could match him in every way. You’re not that woman, and you could never be.

“Y/n…” You perk up at the way he whines your name, and inch closer to the door. “Let me in. Please.”

You hold a hand to the smooth wood, closing your eyes and letting it fall to your lap.

“You need a strong mate,” you answer, shaking your head. “I’m not the right one for you.” You stare at the doorknob with longing. You could open the door and let him in, but what would happen when he moved on to someone better? You’d be crushed, settling into the reality that you’re just a replaceable Omega.

“I don’t want anyone but you. No beta or other omega could be perfect for me. Not like you are, y/n.” When you don’t answer, Suguru murmurs, “Remember when we were in the park when you got your first heat?” You nod, even though he can’t see you. “I swore you knocked me flat on my ass right then and there. I knew I didn’t want anyone else from then on, but I had to fight Gojo once you ran off with your sister to go home.” He chuckles, as if this happened yesterday and not when you were seventeen, which was five years ago.

Your hand is reaching for the doorknob before you can stop it, and you unlock the door, anticipating Suguru to burst in and ravage you. But when he opens the door, he walks in slowly, taking stock of you on the floor and in an old t-shirt of his. He’s still in a grey shirt and joggers from before, his hair pulled back like always.

When he crouches down to face you, you’re shaking - whether it’s from fear or from excitement, you can’t tell. Either way, when Suguru places his hand on your cheek, you feel all of your nerves drift away. He taps a kiss to your nose, then tilts your head up to kiss you on the lips, holding you close by the neck. Once he’s done kissing your mouth, he trails below your chin, lips making a path to your collarbone.

“Get this off me,” you moan, and he flips his shirt off of you, tossing it into your nest before lifting you and taking you to the bed. He lays on top of you, spreading your legs wide while you jerk your hips up to meet his palm.

“I know you want to go fast,” he breathes, pressing another kiss to your mouth. “But let’s go slow. Take our time, hmm?” You whine, a fire building in the pit of your stomach while he smooths his fingers and lips over your skin. “I’ve waited for this for years.”

“Please take me now,” you plead, and Suguru shakes his head, diving past your underwear and sliding a finger into you easily.

“Patience, sweetheart.”

You don’t know how you got so turned on, but damn Suguru is going incredibly slow. You grunt in displeasure and your hands feverishly push down his joggers, letting his hard length spring free without hesitation. Suguru is taken aback at your show of aggression, but he follows it with his own, taking his teeth and raking them up your leg.

“Can’t hold back, huh,” he wonders, finally shucking his pants off. The dark-eyed Alpha removes your underwear and spreads your legs, pumping his cock a few times before nestling into your heat. You both give a loud groan of pleasure, which rocks you to your core as he sinks into you before pulling out, then thrusting back inside of you. You keen as he angles his hips so that your hips are meeting him easily without a single ounce of resistance.

“Please, Su,” you whisper, holding him close as he fucks you senseless. A haze settles in over you and you’re lost, wandering around aimlessly in your mind as he continues to pump into you. There’s no pain, no fear, no nothing. Just you and Suguru mating in your bed with abandon.

A stretching feeling fills you towards your entrance, and you pant, feeling even more full than before.

“S-Suguru…” you hiccup, but he hushes you, still pushing into you as his hand ghosts over your cheek.

“It’s okay… everything’s okay…” His fingers are shaking, but you don’t know why. Even so, something in you shifts, and you feel the burning fire roaring to life in your stomach. You grip him a little harder and cry out his name, which makes him lean forward, mouth open. At first, you think he’s going to kiss your neck, but when you feel his teeth graze a sensitive spot and then press down, you know what’s happening immediately. His scent explodes tenfold and you do the same, biting into his neck with equal pressure and feeling a trickle of blood run from the spot after a while.

The feelings that flood in are incredibly overwhelming, and you suddenly lose all sense of time, space, and knowledge. A loud exhalation is ripped from your throat, and Suguru echoes your sound a few moments later, spilling his seed deep inside of you.

A few minutes pass, and he’s recovered considerably, the mark on his neck still fresh with blood but not as red. His knot has only gone down a fraction, but you don’t mind. Your thoughts are like water and mist, just flowing past you easily, nothing sticking for too long.

“Talk to me,” Suguru whispers, but you can’t reply, your mind landing on one word, but then ghosting it away as soon as you go to speak it. All you can do is rest in his arms, nuzzling him close and closing your eyes.

BONUS:

As you rest with your back against Suguru’s chest, he’s making that sound while rubbing your swollen stomach. The sound is like a croon - bordering on a purr - and whenever he does it, it soothes you to the point of sleepiness. Your pup is tossing and turning despite Suguru’s soothing motions, and you wonder what your pup would be for a second before Yuki and Haibara appear in the backyard.

The sounds of greetings from the other pack members echo around the large space, and you watch them hand over a plate of uncooked steaks to Yuta, who is busy flipping the meat on the grill. Yuki approaches you, hands out to touch your bump as Haibara chats with Gojo and a two-year-old Yuji.

“I say it’s an Alpha by how much it keeps you up at night,” Yuki speculates, and you laugh, praying to God you wouldn't have a mini-Suguru running around the house any time soon. Gojo would very easily snatch him (or her) up and train them how to be “the strongest”, which wouldn’t bode well for your doors or kitchen cabinets.

“I’ve been telling her it’s an Alpha,” Geto chimes in, and you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Are you going to also tell Yuki here what you said about the Fushiguro’s son?”

“What?” he asks innocently. “I only said Megumi would make a great Omega.”

“And Toji told you to eat shit.” Yuki leans back and cackles, holding her stomach.

“Sounds just like Toji.” You let the two alphas continue their conversation, tuning them out and watching Megumi run across the grass with Yuji and Nobara.

“You know, there’s only one thing worse than a curse user,” You hear Gojo mutter to Toji, and the green-eyed man nods.

“Yeah, a child.”

[palbabor-writes]

Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, student/teacher sex, tw.dubcon, tw.sub/dom dynamics, brat taming, fingering, masturbation, a table is pretty roughed up in this, so pls hold a brief moment of silence for it    

Words: 12,857

“So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Notes: the title was selected because it’s got the word cum in it. ahhh, the things that crack me up. anyhow. 

this is part of the BNHA Degeneracy server’s 9 to 5 collaboration! i had a ton of fun participating in this and thank you guys for making this so freaking awesome! special shoutout & thanks to @albinoburrito​ & @kugutsuu​ for their beta edits! this was a departure from what i usually write about and i appreciate all of your notes and help!  

Practicum prac·ti·cum /ˈpraktəkəm/ noun a practical section of a course of study

It’s your senior year, they said. Live a little, they advised. Stop and take a breather, you’re practically home free! Take some easier classes. Focus on what’s in front of you, it’ll be over before you know it! On and on and on. 

Spring semester is almost here. You’ve applied for graduation, the cap and gown ordered, and you have a shiny class ring sitting on your pinky. It’s in the bag. Just breeze through four more classes and you’re out. Well, it would be an easy shot, if you hadn’t put off this one class. 

It always popped up, so it’s not like you could plead ignorance. Your advisor warned you, each quarterly meeting, that you needed to get it out of the way. Take it seriously, he cautioned, clacking out his notes, typing down that you’d failed to heed his sage advice, again. If you wait too long, you’re not going to get the professor that you want.

That was the other problem. You’re a procrastination superstar. If there was some kinda award for putting off assignments, you’d have won it ten times over. You liked the heart pounding race to the deadline, the sleepy boasts that you’d tackled the project within hours of its due date. 

It’s a stupid habit. Every semester you promise yourself that you’ll do better. You won’t wait, you’ll tackle things one assignment at a time and turn them before the hard cut off at 11:59 pm. Who the fuck did you think you were kidding? Certainly not your friends, or your advisor. He could read you like a book. Hell, he’d even sent warnings. 

‘Don’t forget about the deadline for senior registration!’

‘You don’t want to be on a waitlist. You especially don’t want to take one of the harder professors. These are freshman level classes, they’re designed to flunk undergrads. Don’t forget (Y/N), chew them up and spit them out tactics are employed.’ 

But you had. You’d set an alarm on your phone, then neglected to give it a title, so you’d only chuckled and smacked the chirping into silence that morning, snoozing the all important deadline away. 

Fuck. 

Most of the classes for biology are wait-listed. No, scratch that, all the classes for Intro to Genetic Biology are wait-listed. You opt into the waitlist for all of them, just in case, and a week later your phone alerts you that one has an open seat. Actually, it has several open seats, too many open seats to be natural. However, you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so for now, you’re enrolled in BIO 1208: Principles of Cell and Organismal Physiology - For Non-Science majors. 

Perfect.

Yeah, no. You’d looked up the professor, since the whole open seat thing was still giving you the heebie-jeebies, and your heart dropped. You’ve heard of him, most of the student body has. His classes are notoriously small. Not because the university limited them, or planned for smaller class sizes. No, his classes are tiny because he is infamous for failing students. 

Most, when they realize they’re scheduled for his bio classes, frantically drop, taking the withdrawal and praying for better luck next semester. Others, brave souls who think they can come out unscathed, attempt to grit their teeth and push through. But, by midterms, they’re war torn and haggard, shaking their heads and praying for a ‘C’, at best. Fewer still, pass.

This pedagogy isn’t a sign of good teaching; quite the opposite, in fact. You don’t want your student body failing. Yet, year after year, Professor Tomura Shigaraki keeps teaching the same Intro to Bio class. It boggles the mind, but you’ve never had to worry about it. Well, until now. 

When you’d received the notification that you’re enrolled in the B section and spied the name Shigaraki under the professor listing, you’d scarfed down your suddenly flavorless lunch and dashed up the steps to the student advising hall, praying there was some way you could wiggle your way out of this growing disaster.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to take it earlier and to take it in the fall when there are more freshman level classes available. I swear I said that to you. And, AND, I even sent you emails, several times if my sent inbox is to be believed, to NOT forget when senior registration ends.” 

Your advisor is peeved. You don’t blame him. He’s right, this is your fault, but there’s gotta be some kinda loophole. Something, fuck, anything, that can pull you from this mess. 

“I know, I know! I’m so sorry. You’re right. But, I mean, can’t I just hold off for another week? See if the waitlist clears?”

The man that you’ve known for four years, that’s seen you progress from freshman to senior, steeples his long fingers and purses his lips, likely debating on a tactful scolding, or a firm rebuttal. He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but sink into the soft cushioning of the chair, your nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

“Do you know how many students we require to take BIO 1208?”

“No,” you gulp, nibbling on your lower lip nervously. 

“Over 7,000. Do you want to hear the statistics that would need to shake out in your favor for you to miraculously avoid taking this specific class? Nothing is going to open for you, it is this class, or no class.”

You sigh, and your advisor nods, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well then, I suggest you brush up on your study skills. Find a classmate that you can compare notes with, join a study group, go to the student union and ask for a tutor. I would hate to see you back here for the summer semester. You’re scheduled to walk the stage this spring and you’ve worked hard for this, so don’t fuck it up, okay?”

You’ve attended this university for four years, but the first day of term always gives you the jitters. It doesn’t matter that you know your way around, or that you know ten professors by name, and bump into several friends on the way to your next building, you’re always buried in your phone, checking and double checking the next class’ room number. 

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

In your defense, it’s your first time stepping foot in the Graduate & Research building and the whole concrete block is a fucking maze. There must be a basement because the numbers don’t match up with the floors and they seem to jumble further every time you round a corner. Like what the hell? How can this next room be GR 3.03.05 when this is clearly only the second floor and GR 2.03.11 was right down that other hallway?

Exasperated, you lean against the nearest wall and tug your phone out again. Shit. Class started ten minutes ago. 

Part of you wants to call it a day, end the search here and try again on Wednesday. Maybe take a few extra minutes to scout out the building next time and have some idea of where you’re going before the start of class. 

Ugh, why is this so stressful? 

It’s the first day of classes. Surely Professor Shigaraki won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late; besides, if you’re lost, others must be too. 

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and resume the hunt. Two hallway turns later, you find your mark.

Your hand pauses beside the heavy wood, and you take a steadying breath. Again, why are you so nervous? Just go in and take a seat, it’s easy, stop freaking out over nothing. 

The door groans open, hinges protesting the sharp push, and you stumble into a darkened room. The low glow of the projector doesn’t help your blurry vision. Ah, shit, it’s one of those older rooms, so it’s built like a bad movie theater. Oh well, better get to a seat before he spots you. 

Swiftly, you make your way toward the raised steps of the aisle and the second row of chairs, plopping into the first one you reach that’s empty. You’re too busy fiddling with the zipper of your backpack to notice that the speaker has stopped his rasping preamble, but as you pull your laptop out the ominous weight of that heavy silence hits you and you toss a hooded stare toward the front of the lecture hall. 

Immediately, your eyes land on the professor’s and you feel a low shiver shake up your spine. 

He’s watching you. 

The gleam of the overhead projector makes his red eyes flash, and he openly scowls at your gaping expression, his lips curling into a dark sneer.

“Well, thank you for joining us, Miss…?”

He’s waiting for your response and you squeak out your last name, mindlessly rubbing your moistening palms against your thin skirt. 

“Ah, Ms. (L/N). Now that you’ve graced the class with your belated presence, may I continue?”

“Uh,” you gasp out, your mouth dry, tongue sticking to your teeth, “I’m sorry. I got–”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation, or in your case, an excuse. Or are you now attempting to disrupt this class purposefully?”

“Wha– I-I’m–” your words stumble to a halt, voice failing under the intense glare that he’s giving you. “No,” you finish lamely, ducking your head, nails digging into your sweaty palms. 

“Thank you. Do me a favor, stay after class.” His voice is gravel, threatening and low. You don’t like the edge in his tone. It makes your skin prickle and your knees knock. He sounds like the kind of guy that you don’t want to run into in a dark alleyway, or a classroom, for that matter. Even so, it’s not your fault, and despite your feelings of unease, you can’t tamp down your need to protest his unreasonableness. 

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

“If I need to repeat my insistence for silence, I’ll make things easier on both of us and fail you now.”

Stunned and fuming, you bite your tongue and lean back into your chair, crossing your arms and blinking back mounting tears of frustration. Great, just great. It’s the first fucking day of class and it looks like you’re already on his shit list. And for what? For being late on fucking syllabus day! What an ass. 

You look over at him as you defiantly finish setting up your computer, hoping each pull of a zipper or screen reboot will grate under his stuck up skin. He’s not inordinately tall, or old. In fact, he looks like he might only be in early 30s. He has long white hair that’s pulled back into a low ponytail and, from what you can make out in the dim lighting, some kinda skin condition on his forehead. That, or he’s prematurely wrinkled, and let’s be honest, if he’s gone through life with that big of a stick up his ass, he deserves each and every pull on that mottled skin of his. 

You linger in your seat when class is over, lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed. Finally, when the last student has left the room, professor Shigaraki flips a switch beside his elevated podium, filling the lecture hall with a sharp, fluorescent light. He pauses by his raised computer system and clicks off the overhead projector, blanketing the massive room in an uncomfortable silence. 

“Since you missed the part of class where I go over the syllabus, I’ll give you a brief rundown. Under no circumstances will I tolerate tardiness. If you do it once more I’ll mark you absent and three absences knock you down a full letter grade.”

Glumly, you cross your arms and peer up at him, finally able to get a good look at his face. Your first observation was correct. His skin is sharper around his forehead, but his wavy white hair does a pretty decent job of covering up the imperfections. He has two scars: one nicks across his right eye and the other splits down his rough lips, parting the skin and granting him an even more foreboding appearance than his already gruff demeanor does. He’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans and he’s wearing a low slung v neck shirt. It’s a brilliant red and it brings out that otherworldly glint of his red eyes. Shit, you think bitterly, while he’s not conventionally handsome, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes either. 

You shake your head against these unproductive musings and curtly snap out a clipped, ok.

“What was that?” Shigaraki scoffs, tilting his head at your sullen figure. “Speak up.”

“I said,” you bristle, eyes narrowing and chin lifting, “Okay, I apologize for interrupting your lecture, it won’t happen again. But, in my defense, if I’m allowed to do that in this class, I’ve never been in this building before, and it’s not like–”

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then you’ve had four years to figure out the layout of this university. The excuse of ‘being lost,’ isn’t an option for you. You know the buildings and you’re fully capable of turning up early to sort out the rooms.”

You let out a long sigh and look away, mumbling vague protests. This guy is ridiculous. You’re not a science major and it’s not your job to know the ins and outs of each building. How fucking stupid. Who does he think he–

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

You bite your lip and look back at him but he’s moved in that distracted moment, silently stepping down from his raised platform and is now leaning over the first row of chairs, looming over you. You can’t help your sudden flinch as you sink further into your chair, away from him.

“If you’re gonna complain, Ms. (L/N), I’d much rather hear it. Don’t you think It’s rude for you to mutter under your breath about me? You don’t see me doing that to you.”

“Fine,” you blurt out, turning away from his insistent, and all too close, gaze. “I was saying that I’m not a science major. I get that I’m a senior, but you can’t seriously expect me to know every nook and cranny of this campus.”

“No, but I can ask for you to be a little more thoughtful. I put time and effort into my lessons and I won’t have you undermining them by bouncing in here with those legs and that flouncy little skirt.”

You’re about to counter his little haughty speech on politeness when you finally process that final comment he’d breathed out. Flabbergasted, you raise your head back to his, but he’s already moving away, snatching up his shoulder bag and waving you a curt goodbye as he presses open the squeaky door. “Next class is at 10 am sharp, so be on time Ms. (L/N).”

You’re still slumped in your seat when the door glides shut again, your eyes wide and jaw no doubt comically unhinged. 

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

Obviously, for the next class, you’re early. You’re so early that you’re the first one in the lecture hall. You select a seat toward the back and fiddle with your computer, checking your messages, adjusting your brightness, replying to old emails, anything to keep your head down and attention occupied. 

The door opens and, despite your best efforts, your head flies up, expectant and tense, ready to meet those red eyes of his head on, to show him you’re here and he better… oh. It’s not him. It’s two chattering freshmen. One of them gives you a quick smile, but they both quickly take their seats, a few rows over, and continue their soft conversation, leaving you to fall back onto your earlier distraction tactics. You twiddle with your phone and shoot off a few texts, change your wallpaper, accidentally close an app you meant to leave open, and then the lecture hall door reopens.

He steps in slowly, completely ignoring you and the other scattered students, opting to sort out a few papers and set up his login on the school computer. The minutes tick by and you can’t seem to jerk your eyes away from him, suddenly fascinated by his languid movements. He looks more relaxed than he did on Monday, looser and fluid, completely in his element. True to his word, at ten am on the dot he begins class. 

Professor Shigaraki has an interesting voice. It’s low, calculated, bordering on a rasp. It’s one of those tones that makes you want to lean forward and listen up, even though he’s only discussing cellular biology. Which isn’t exactly the sexiest topic for that shockingly dulcet timbre of his. 

Wait. Sexy? 

Your pen falters against your notebook, and your eyes drift up to his frame. He’s switched the lights off again and the shine of the overhead projector is the only illumination in the hall. His white hair gleams in the dim lighting and his long hands animatedly illustrate his points, elegant fingers opening and closing, gesticulating about the intricate nature of the human genome. You’re so focused on watching his movements that your elbow partner has to push the slip of paper onto your collapsible desktop. You blink at the sheet, your pen nearly clattering from your hand, and you twist to peer at the unfamiliar student beside you. 

“It’s the attendance sheet and, um, I think you’re the last one,” they whisper, careful to lean away after they finish their explanation, not wanting to draw professor Shigaraki’s ire. You maneuver the paper under your pen and scribble down your name, biting your lip and silently berating yourself for your poor selection in seating. Great, now you’ll have to take the paper down to him after class. What if he talks with you again? Shit. 

At 11:25, class ends. You collect your things and plod down the steps, the attendance sheet clutched between your fingers. He’s just snapping the projector light off when you reach his podium. 

“I, uhh, have the attendance. You want me to just leave it here, or…”

“I’ll take it,” his hand is extended toward you and those red eyes are fixed on you now. It’s not the same disgruntled stare he’d given you on Monday. No, this look is a little more curious. Again, you’re taken aback by your reaction to him. He’s not even saying anything, just patiently waiting for you to deposit the sheet into his open palm, but there’s something about him that’s making your heart race. 

Maybe it’s those eyes of his. 

They are an unusual color and they have a strange intensity to them. Right as they narrow, the vermillion shining under the sharp lights; you press the paper to him and he pulls it from you, studying the names that are listed. 

You want to say something. Maybe toss him a quick, friendly, goodbye. Or apologize for the other day? Ugh. What can you even say? ‘Gosh, so glad I was on time today! All that fascinating information about the genetic code! So glad to be here!’ No, that sounds stupid and a little patronizing. Besides, why do you want to talk with him at all? He’s an ass, remember?

“Did you need something?”

His question snaps you out of your stupor and you numbly shake your head at him, already lowering your gaze, but his exhaled chuckle makes you pause, your fingers curling around your backpack straps.  

“I know I upset you the other day, but I appreciate you taking the effort to correct your mistake.” 

“Oh,” you breathe, your eyes finding their way back to his. “Yeah, well, like you said, I’m a senior. Gotta take responsibility for myself someday.”

“Ah,” he smirks, that long scar on his lip quirking upward. “Seems like you’ve got some determination after all. You might be more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

“God,” you scoff, popping out a hip and crossing your arms at the bemused leer on his face. “Just come right out and say you think I’m a bad student, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he amends, tucking the attendance sheet into his shoulder bag and snapping the clasps closed. “There’s plenty of time for you to end up right back at square one with me.”

He’s already halfway out the door by the time you right yourself from the shock of his last comment and you follow him, a string of low curses falling from your lips. 

The spring semester always flies by, and before you realize it, a full month has bled away. You’ve kept that same seat in Shigaraki’s class and at the end of each session you head down to his little platform, attendance sheet outstretched. Each day of class has a different ebb and flow. Sometimes he chats with you and it’s gotten easier to talk with him, both of your eyes holding and lingering, lips raised into calculating smiles. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s flirting with you. Other days he only spares you a curt nod, his white hair curtaining his expression from your curious gaze. You’re not bothered by these silences, not when you’ve got your secret weapon. 

The days that you like best, the ones that you plan, sorting through your closet until you’ve found the perfect choice, are the days when you wear one of your skirts. You’d even gone on some skirt shopping sprees as of late. On those days he doesn’t just make some sort of fleeting eye contact with you, no, on those days he stares. 

At first, you’d tested out your theory, staggering your outfits, careful to not screw up your suspicions with a hasty miscalculation, but as they say, the third time’s the charm. How did he expect you not to notice? He never bothers to hide those sharp ogles and recently you’ve made a point of dramatically gathering your things when you wear these cute little ensembles, bopping down the steps so his eyes have to work to follow the line of your hips and the long paths of your bare legs. One rainy afternoon you’d worn over the knee stockings, that came to an abrupt halt over the plush skin of your upper thigh, under your mini skirt and he’d practically leapt over the podium to grab the sheet from you, his eyes hooded and dark, almost wild.

“Test, on Friday,” he warns, eyes finally rising to meet your bemused expression. “Don’t stay out too late tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, brushing at a rogue fold in your skirt, luring him back to your legs. 

He scoffs at you, that jagged scar arching into a smirk. “Humph. You’re dressed up. Most of the students just wear the sweats, or pjs, and call it a day.” 

“I like to put a little effort in all that I do,” you retort, grinning up at his vermillion stare. 

“Yes, so I’ve noticed. You certainly look the part…and you’re keeping up with the workload of this course.”

“Ahhh,” you crow, clapping your hands excitedly. “Are you saying I might get an ‘A’ in this class? Be the first time someone’s done that in a while, from what I’ve heard around campus.”

Shigaraki sneers and tuts out an inaudible reply, leaning a little closer to you, making you inadvertently fall back a step. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Awe,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m doing ok on all the quizzes and the classwork.”

“So far,” he taunts, his pearlescent hair falling over his broad shoulder.

“Tch. Don’t be like that. I’ve been studying.”

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

“Oh?” you smile, raising your chin. “What else should I be doing, professor?”

“We’ll know that after Friday, won’t we?”

God. 

You’d felt so confident when you’d turned in your test and that stupid, horrible, sexy little quirk of his lip scar that he sends you, when you’d handed him your papers, carries you on some strange, half aroused cloud all weekend. Maybe, just maybe, this class won’t be so bad after all.

The tests are handed back the following Friday, passed from row to row so everyone can fish out their papers and marked Scantrons. Yours, since you still occupy that final seat on the back row, is the last. Biting back a grin, you flip it over, so ready to see that A, that grade that you worked so fucking hard for, that… wait.

The gross flash of red across the top of your paper leaves you reeling, your breath catching against the back of your throat. It’s not a terrible grade, well, it wouldn’t be, but there are only three tests in this class, so it’s going to plummet you down to a B. One more fuck up will leave you with a C, or worse, an automatic failing grade. 

No. No, no, no, no. 

You can’t afford a bad grade, you honestly can’t even let yourself slip to a B. Your fucking cap and gown have just come in and with them that cord that you can wear around your neck at graduation. The one that marks you as honors cum laude. Fuck. You’re already pulling one B, in one of your other classes, because you’ve been focusing so much time and effort on this one. Another B will strip that cord from you, leaving you barren, with a less than ideal GPA. 

God fucking damn it.

You glare up at Shigaraki, who’s busy taking the rest of the class through a review of genetic mutations, but you can’t hear him anymore, too incensed, too overwhelmed to even care about what he’s saying. The test crumples under your fingertips, the paper shaking in your hands, and you seethe, your teeth biting your lower lip to pieces. 

It’s not fair. You’d paid attention. You’ve taken all the notes. Read all the chapters. Drilled and studied till your eyes had drooped, heavy with exhaustion. You’ve done it all right. Plus, he’d been so fucking flirty, so open with you. You’ve never chatted with a professor this way, never gone out of your way to wear clothes they like, that make them watch you, their eyes hungry pinpricks as you walk to them, mindful of the luscious sway of your hips. 

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

Before your elbow classmate can leave, you ask for them to hand in the attendance sheet. You barely hear their response, too busy slamming your laptop into your backpack. As you storm past the podium, you can feel his eyes on you. The distant sensation of his gaze makes your flesh prickle, but you ignore your involuntary reaction and shove your way out the door. 

“(Y/N), you can’t switch classes this late. It’s almost midterms. Besides, I don’t think anything has opened up and if you’re going to drop it, you’ve gotta get the signature of the professor,” your advisor tells you, blinking at your stony expression over his thick glasses. “I don’t get it. Why do you want to drop it? Your grades are alright and it’s just one test. You can always try–”

“Gimme the paperwork.”

Shigaraki’s office is on the top floor of the research building, tucked away down another winding and weaving hallway that once again requires your careful inspection to navigate. When you finally hit the right set of doors, you slowly make your way forward, counting the numbers up as you pass. His door is wide open, a yawning cavern that’s filled with the distant light of a lamp. You brush a hand down your skirt, smoothing away any wrinkles and steadying your nerves. 

You’d tossed on the skirt this morning, before you’d gotten the grade, and you hadn’t thought to go home and change, too consumed by that simmering rage bubbling within you. And now, like this fucking class, this skirt felt like a mistake, something stupid and vapid that you wished you had time to change out of. He’d told you he liked your attire, liked that you put effort into your outfits. At the time, you’d been so thrilled and excited that he’d complimented you, but now you wish you were confronting him in baggy jeans or lazy sweats, anything that would turn that avid gaze of his away from you. 

Lost in thought, you waver beside his open door, nibbling on your lips and tugging at your clothes. It’s now or never. No point in putting it off. What’s the worst that can happen? What can he do now? Or, a darker side of you whispers, what do you want him to do to you? What? That’s a stupid thought, you scold yourself, lifting a hand to the wall and rapping against the beige paint, announcing your presence. 

When the sound fades away, swallowed up by the empty and darkened hallway, you poke your head around the corner, searching for him. His head is tilted quizzically, and he blinks twice when he spots you, that all too familiar smirk lifting his lips. 

“Ah, Ms. (L/N), what can I do for you?”

His voice is softer than usual and your name sounds like honey, his tone resting on the syllables and consonants for a beat, almost as if he’s savoring their lift, their sound. You can’t help but swallow heavily at his appraisal. Suddenly this may be a terrible idea. 

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N). 

“I-I need you to sign this withdrawal paperwork,” you finally reply, digging in your bag and tugging out the thin leaflet, holding it out to him. He’s silent after your demand, meditatively threading his fingers and peering up at you, his red eyes bright. 

“Step inside and shut the door behind you,” he instructs, his gaze never falling from yours. Despite the simplicity of his request, you can’t help but bristle at his imperious tone. Why does he always have to sound like that? Like he’s seconds away from taking control of the situation, or of you? He’s always one stupid step ahead, and no doubt he’s going to try and talk you down. Or, he’ll sign it and say that he always knew you were a screw up, someone who only did things halfway, who could never match up to his lofty expectations. Humph, the sooner you’re outta here and out of his class, the better. So, you obey, closing the door and petulantly flopping into the unsteady chair that sits in front of his low desk. 

He maintains that uneasy quiet, his red eyes whisking over your disgruntled face, waiting, watching. Unable to take this strange standoff, you push the university paperwork toward him, sliding it as close as you dare to his bent elbows. “I would like to withdraw from your class,” you repeat, lips setting into a thin line. 

“Why?” he asks, cocking his head so his loose white hair falls a little further down his rough brow. 

“Something came up.”

“Hmm, I can try to work with a new schedule, if it’s your job, or home life,” he counters, eyes narrowing as he sharpens his observations of your brittle expression. 

“It’s not that,” you smart, crossing your arms. Great, he’s going to make this difficult. 

“Then I suggest you tell me what’s on your mind,” Shigaraki replies, mirroring your movements and leaning back in his chair. 

“I don’t think this class is working out for me.”

He exhales a soft laugh at your lie, and you watch that tiny mole at the edge of his chin lift in his quiet mirth. “This is a freshman level course and you’re a senior. You’re in my class because it’s likely the last pre-rec that you need to take before you graduate.”

“Um, yeah. But–”

“And now, you’re wanting to drop it because of one poor grade.”

You grind your teeth and fix him with a stark glower. “I–”

“There will be two other tests. If you read your syllabus, you’d know this.”

“I read the syllabus. Your tests are worth a stupid amount of points and it only takes one of them to tank my grade.”

“Frankly, you did better than most of the class. You only need to work on practical application. I said that the written portion would be a major component of the exam. I also provided you with a review and a rubric. So I’m not sure–”

“Your grade drops me to a ‘B’, and that ‘B’ pulls me from the honors list. And… well… I thought that…”

“Oh? What did you think?” he presses, his voice suddenly dropping to that lower octave it had drifted into when he said your last name. 

“I thought I’d get a better grade,” you spit out, turning your head and biting at your lip again. 

“Why?” he counters simply. His obtuseness is making your blood boil.

“What do you mean, why?” It takes all of your will to not slip a ‘jackass’ into that question. 

“It’s not a hard thing to answer. I graded you fairly and according to my rubric. Why exactly do you feel you merit a different grade than the one you earned?”

You fall into a frustrated silence. You can hear your heart pounding against your ribs and you want to scream at him, to leap over his desk and shake him until his teeth fucking rattle. Your shoulders are rising and lowering disjointedly and his vermillion eyes are honed in on your face, shifting over your pinched expression with a distant interest. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes and you hastily rub a fist over them, brushing away any rogue drops of moisture.

“How can you ask me that? You think I didn’t notice you staring at my legs? Or that you always had something to say to me when I was wearing a skirt? What was I supposed to think, huh? I fucking thought shit like that was gonna help, ok? God, I’m so stupid. I can’t… fuck.” 

Shigaraki arches forward when you finish, a deep sigh leaching through his parted lips. His teeth snap together when you look up at him, your eyes gaining back some of that earlier defiance, and he gives you a quick grin, clearly pleased by your shift in attitude and pushes your paper aside, fixing you with a dark look. “Here’s a thought, since you feel you’re so different, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a chance to make up the score.”

“I don’t care about the score anymore. I wanna drop your class,” you snap, but it’s a halfhearted barb. Something has changed in his demeanor. He’s dropped the concerned professor act and is leaning so close you can hear his steady intakes of air. He’s only a few inches away; if you want, you could touch him.

“I doubt you want to attend a class in the summer. Besides, they won’t let you walk if you haven’t finished your freshman level courses. And you can’t tell me you don’t want to graduate, to earn that cord that lets you into the honor cum laude. So stop pouting and hear me out. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever like anything about you,” your voice is sharper than you mean it to be, but the challenge makes Shigaraki smile. As it crosses his cracked lips, it pulls that scar up and it makes those eyes of his glow. He looks like the cat that’s got the cream and you’re not sure how to respond, so you cross your legs and wait for him to make the next move. 

“You sure about that? Well, I’ll have to change your tune then, won’t I? But that can wait, lemme tell you what my requirements are. I’ve got a copy of the textbook in here. I’ll have you review some of the major concepts, you’ll read the passages aloud so I’m sure you’re on the right track, you’ll hand the book back to me, and then I’ll verbally quiz you over the material. If you answer them correctly, I’ll bump you to an ‘A’ on your test.”

You have to actively work to keep your mouth closed. “So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands. 

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin. 

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Your eyes boggle and you have to clench your thighs tighter, your stomach churning, you feel light-headed and you can feel your core fluttering with your sudden arousal. “Wh-what did you just say?”

“Stop gaping at me like that, you’ll make me blush. Now come on.”

Your jaw snaps closed and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind from your whirling emotions. He takes this reaction as a surrender and stands, stepping toward a marred table that rests a little ways away from his desk. He licks his thumb pad and flips through a few pages before finally settling on an appealing section. Once he places it on the table, he twists back to you and crooks a finger your way. “Come here,” he orders, his voice deep and languid. Obediently, you rise on unsteady feet, hands tugging at the length of your skirt, careful to keep it pressed down as you walk toward him. 

He makes space for you to stand in front of the book and shifts back, one hand resting on the table, propping him close to your bent figure. You look up at him, but he only nods his head toward the table, a wicked smile curling the corners of his lips. Blink a few times but finally, the words clear and you can see the block of text that’s in front of you. It’s passages on DNA encodes and RNA proteins, hefty stuff, things that you had to make flash cards for. This isn’t going to be easy. If anything, he’s picked some of the harder concepts, the ones that take steady knowledge in the foundations. Flustered, you look back to him, but he’s moved. He’s leaning against the wide window beside the table, a dark mark against the glass.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a laugh bubbling in his tone.

“There’s no way…” you stammer, shaking your head at him. 

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

“I should ask what kinda curve, but knowing you, it’s likely gonna be something terrible.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he rumbles, stepping away from the window and leaning close to your stiff form. “It just takes an open mind and some enthusiasm on your part.”

“Enthusiasm?” you question, trying your best to withstand his closeness. You can feel the heat radiating off of his broad shoulder and if you tilt a little nearer, you could graze against him, or feel his breath on your skin. 

“You’re right,” he amends, his forearm contacting your side. You startle at the touch, a gasp falling from your lips, but you don’t pull away and you can’t stop staring up at him, your eyes wide. “Obedience is a better word. From here on out, whatever I tell you to do, I expect you to obey it, although it’s not exactly, ah, school approved.”

“You want me to suck you off or something?” you sneer, hoping to stumble him off his guard, even if it’s only for an instant. Too bad he’s always one step ahead. 

“Don’t be vulgar. Think outside of the box, (Y/N). Do you think I’m going to go for something so short sighted when I could have you bending to my will? Obeying every little demand that I make? I’d much rather see if that skin of yours tastes as good as it looks, then simply have you on your knees. No, I want you to fucking scream for me while I stuff you full of my cock. But first, you need to put in some work. You should know that by now.”

Oxygen is suddenly very hard to come by and you can feel your mind hazing over as you stammer up at him, your mind flitting from word to word disjointedly. Shigaraki grants you a wolfish grin, and he dips his lips beside your ear, whispering over those tiny hairs that rest against your tender skin. “I’ll make this part easy. Nod and I’ll give you the first set of instructions.” 

What did he say? Nod? What happens when you nod? Fuck, why are you letting him do this? Is your grade really worth it? Are you that desperate that… that… 

Shigaraki is whispering other promises over you as you war with yourself, speaking his words gently, slowly, his breath hot as it fans over your neck. It’s like you’ve fallen under some kinda spell and before you realize it, your traitorous head is bobbing up and down, letting him know you want him to keep going.

“Perfect,” he sighs, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear, jerking a shiver from you. “Now, lean forward and put your hands against the table.” 

You do as he says, but he’s not satisfied with your positioning, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and yanking you forward, jutting your ass out and pressing your chest down, maneuvering you until your nose is right above the pages of the textbook. “There we go,” he rasps, pulling away so he can admire your splayed form. “Hmm, your legs are too close together. Spread them.” Knees trembling, you obey, gasping when he runs a palm against the curve of your thighs.

“You’ve got such nice legs (Y/N), so let’s put them on display, shall we?” His fingers search against the top of your skirt and they still when he reaches his prize: the zipper. When he pulls it down, you let out a sharp squeak of protestation but he silences you with a swift pinch to your side. 

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You nodded, remember? Besides, you could have left when I told you I’d give you a curve but you couldn’t help yourself could you? You want me to keep going and to do that, I need you to take this skirt off. No, don’t move. I’ll get rid of it for you. Why don’t you focus on the task at hand, hmm? Aren’t you supposed to be reading for me?”

You arch away from his fingers and he chuckles at your impudence, one large hand hooking under your chin and pulling you toward his face. His red eyes blaze as they find yours, the dark pupils threatening to swallow up that deep vermillion. “Let’s start with the second paragraph. If you do well, I might grant you a reprieve.” 

Jerking your face from his grip, you twist back to the text, trying, and failing, to ignore his inquisitive fingers, unable to resist sighing as he works one up your inner thigh. He pauses when no words fall from your lips and you grumble out a few low curses before acquiescing to his silent demand. 

“The flow of genetic information in cells from DNA to mRNA to protein is described by the Central Dogma, which states that genes specify the sequence of mRNAs, which specify the sequence of proteins. The decoding of one molecule… the… the… molecule… by spec-specific…”

He’s slipped your skirt down over the swell of your ass, but he’s taking his time, flexing out the front of the material and dipping his fingers over the bump of your lower stomach, kneading into the delicate flesh that’s stretched out for him. You can’t help the twitch of your spine and you involuntarily wiggle, palms slipping forward, dragging you further along the tabletop. Shigaraki chuckles above you, running his rough lips over the back of your neck.

“You’re so sensitive. I’ve barely touched you.” 

He circles his hands back to your skirt and edges it along, lowering it sharply on one side and then giving the same treatment to the other. You’re doing your best to keep up with your stammering readings, but it’s difficult when he keeps sighing and running his long nails across your newly bared skin. Finally, he works the skirt down and it thumps against your bare ankles; the fabric tickling your skin. 

Meanwhile, his other fingers skitter against the elastic band of your rapidly dampening panties. Once he hooks the lace under his hand, he yanks them along your legs, trailing them sinfully slowly, ensuring that they glide down the billow of your thighs. His teeth nip at your ear when you stumble to a halt in your recitation and your hands tense over the grains of wood beneath them, your nails pinching into your palms. “If you stop, I stop,” he warns, his head bumping against yours, his sharp nose pressing against your pulse.

“You’re not exactly making this easy,” you grumble, doing your best to ignore his renewed pets and strokes. 

“Stop complaining,” he smirks, leaning away from your head to peer at your newly exposed flesh. “You better pay attention to what you’re reading or you’re not going to pass the questions I’ll be asking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, ow!” you squawk, whipping your head around to glare up at him. He fucking pinched you again! This time, he’d slipped his hand between your spread legs and tweaked your inner thigh, painfully. 

“Read,” he repeats, running those guilty fingers upward, lingering beside the heat of your cunt, careful to not get too close. When you start on the next sentence, one of his hands tugs up the fabric of your shirt, snaking upward until he’s thumbing against the wire of your bra. Once again, you falter to a halt and exhale a wavering breath. 

Goddamn it. This review is no review. You’ll be lucky if you can even recall what a cell is if he keeps this up. You hear his ominous intake of air and quickly resume your recitation, mumbling something about RNA and mRNA differences. 

Wait. Didn’t you just…  

“Looks like you’re having trouble listening to me. I told you to read aloud, not to repeat the same passages over and over.”

“Hey, at least I’ll have a firm grasp on those. You should ask me something about that s-section… ah–”

The hand that was resting under the cup of your bra has made its way underneath the lightly padded material, and his thumb and index fingers have trapped your peaked nipple between them. As soon as your snarky comment left your mouth, he’d twisted the bud, squeezing it until it throbbed. 

“Pay attention,” he commands, shoving your bra upward, freeing the globes of your breasts and cupping both of his broad hands under them. Your abused nipple stings and the mixture of sharp pain and jarring arousal goes right through you, stoking that coil that pulsed within your core, and sending a tacky flush of your essence down your spread thighs.

The next few words are a struggle. The text keeps blurring and your breaths are coming in fast and heavy. Shigaraki is still feeling you up, keeping his lips close to your ears, rasping sharp commands to you and dealing out lightning fast rounds of pinches and squeezes each time you falter. 

“I–I can’t… I don’t even know what I’m reading anymore,” you bemoan, your hips pressing against the edge of the table, legs trembling as you attempt to keep them apart. He’s deliberately ignoring your throbbing clit and a desperate edge is creeping into your voice. 

“Are you always this whiny? Fine. I’ll give you a moment to read without any distractions.”

Thank God.

True to his word, he slips away from your back and you’re left shivering against his sudden absence. Despite your quaking, you’re determined to make the most of this chance and you quickly read out the paragraphs that are on the second page. As you ramble down to the last bit of text, you realize you can’t hear him anymore and when you finish the last sentence; you start to really wonder where he’s drifted off to. A tense silence follows your completion of the material and you arch up on the tips of your toes, jutting your ass out and stretching the stiffened muscles of your lower back. 

“Didn’t say you could stop reading, and judging from all of your complaints, I don’t think you got some of those earlier concepts, so I’d suggest doing a quick review,” he taunts, the sudden rasp of his voice startling a low gasp from your lips. 

He’s close; somewhere behind you and to the left from the sound of it. You try to twist around, your chest lifting from the table, and when he notices, his hands return, creating a rough pressure against your neck as he forces your body back down. His weight plasters you to the surface, scraping your partially exposed stomach and tender breasts over the nicked wood. Shigaraki is merciless in his swift correction, his breath puffing out angrily behind you. “Didn’t say you could move, either.”

Stunned, you freeze. Your arms are arched awkwardly, but he keeps his weight against you, flattening your breasts and forcing your back to arch into an awkward bend. Fuck, you think, how are you supposed to stay like this? Your legs are already aching and if he shifts away again, he’s likely going to expect you to maintain this absurd pose.  

“Yes,” he groans, his voice catching against the word, “Good girl. Now, stay just like that.”

Damn it.

“Go on, read the first part again,” he instructs. 

“The entire genetic content of a cell is known as its genome and the study of genomes is gen-genomics. In eukaryotic cells, but… but not in p-prokaryotes, DNA forms a complex with histone proteins… with histone proteins… sub-substance… of…”

His teeth have latched onto your neck, and he’s sucking bruises into your tender skin. He’s still pinning you to the table, but his hands are widening their explorations. He’s started dragging a fingernail across the puffy folds of your cunt, teasing against the dripping and swollen flesh, chuckling when you buck against his hold. 

“You always seem to lose it when you get to cellular modulations.”  

“I–I–It’s not… I can’t help that you keep…” you whimper, your fingers curling under your palms, head shaking back and forth. You can’t think. He’s not being fucking fair, and you can’t even string your goddamn words together. Shit. “Y-you’re not being fair,” you accuse, falling on the only thing that keeps running through your mind, your splayed feet shifting uncomfortably under you.

“Not fair? Not once did I say fairness would come into this arrangement,” he lifts himself off of your back and leans beside you, one arm planted beside your crooked elbow. His fingers trace over the curve of your ass, cupping at the thickest part of you and squeezing. 

“But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a little satisfaction out of this arrangement. I bet you look good when you cum. And you’ve been working so hard to get my attention these last few months. So careful to do what I tell you. Looking at me with those big eyes of yours, all wide eyed every time I catch you looking at me. And don’t even get me started on your lips. You’re lucky I didn’t fucking bend you over after class, especially when you started wearing all of those cute little skirts for me. Ahhh, don’t moan like that, I won’t be able to help myself if you do. Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?” 

Without warning, he slips his longest digit into your cunt, groaning loudly when he’s sucked into your welcoming heat. Your pussy, hungry for any kind of scrap, ripples around his intrusion, clamping and pulling, desperate for more. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his weight falling against your shoulder. “You’re soaking.” His elegant digit pushes deeper and you roll your hips under him, urging him closer, sighing when he sinks to the last knuckle. As he pulls his finger back, he adds another, swiftly v-ing the two before curving them together as they slip back out, dragging a steady line of pleasure from your quivering cunt. Shigaraki whispers another round of awed praise against your ear, his voice dark and breathless. 

A third digit is added on another trip out, and it creates a ragged sensation within you. It’s close to what you like, but he’s stretching you too far and it’s starting to hurt. He either needs to speed up, or give you a little more pressure. If you can hump your clit against the edge of the table, maybe it’ll give you the friction that you need. When you mindlessly buck your hips, your thighs threatening to lose that spread, he stops, holding his fingers inside you, laughing as you agitatedly try to shift him back into his earlier rhythm.

“So eager. I’d say you’re ready for my questions.”

“W-what?” you gasp, wholly focused on making him restart the push and pull of his fingers inside you. 

“I’ll start you off with something easy. What’s the cell membrane?”

“W-what? The cell… ah–” 

“Answer me. Now,” he grunts, leaning forward, re-steadying you as his fingers pull outward, dragging against your sensitive folds and schlicking through your arousal lewdly, loudly. You moan and your eyes roll back, completely ignoring his demand as you fall into the haze of pleasure that comes after his movements. 

His free hand travels up your neck and he tangles his fingers into the tendrils of your hair, yanking and jerking at the strands, demanding your attention.  

“I said, answer me.”

“Shigaraki–I–fuck. I can’t even… ugh… think right now!”

“Do you want the grade, or not?” he questions, his voice tense. “Answer correctly and I’ll give you what you want.” 

“I–I don’t think I can,” you whine, pressing your hips back as he thrusts his fingers forward again, curving them upward, searching for the spongy pad of nerves that rest against the front of your pelvis. 

“Oh? What happened to wanting that A? What about your graduation? You gonna let me fuck up your entire college career? I can do it, you know. I’ve done it to so many simpering freshmen. I fail kids left and right and you’re no different, (Y/N). 

The university lets me ahh–there it is! God, you’re so fucking wet. 

Where was I? The university can’t say no to me; they let me do what I want. I bring in too much money, too many tempting grants, and that’s all they really care about. So what’s it gonna be? Let me see that you can answer this basic crap and I’ll pass you. Or would you like for me to tie you down and force it outta you another way?”

He’s picked up the pace of his fingers as he rambles over you and a swift press against that newly discovered spot inside you has you falling to pieces in his hands, popping up onto your tiptoes and rutting yourself against the surface of the table. “O-ok, God, ok! Just–fucking repeat the goddamn question,” you pant, head slumping forward, forcing his fingers to tighten against your hair to hold you upright. 

“What is the cell membrane?” 

You wince your eyes closed, trying to rack your brain to focus on something other than the heavy pressure of the three fingers that are teasing their way across your dribbling pussy. He’s moving his presses with a lackadaisical, inconsistent rhythm now and it’s hard to fucking think. You can’t tell if his next thrust will be hard, or soft, or so rough that it’s bordering on that bittersweet line of pain. 

You shake your head, doing your best to ignore the mounting pressure that he’s building inside you and the ache of your neck and legs. Finally, after another sharp tap against that secret bunch of nerves at the front of your cunt, you latch onto a vague remembrance. 

“It… it’s a double layer of–of phospholipids that make a boundary between the cell and t-the surrounding… ugh… it controls the passage of materials.”

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

He’s unrelenting in his domineering treatment, twisting and frigging his fingers each time your breath hitches, and your arousal is leaking down your legs, making your skin stick and pull. It’s too much, you can’t! How can he even ask this? Words are falling from your lips incoherently, and all too soon you’re gasping out his name rather than reciting the answer. 

“Cellular–oh, fuck, Shi–Shigaraki–Please, keep–don’t stop! S-Shigaraki, God that… feels… ah–keep going!”

He ignores your request and pulls his fingers away, robbing you of that sweet pressure that he’s so carefully mounted within you. 

“I’ll count that one as incorrect. Your ‘A’ is swiftly becoming an ‘A’ minus, (Y/N)” he snarls, his teeth gritted, hands falling to the swell of your hips, wet fingers digging into your soft skin. 

“What? No! You didn’t give me enough… e-enough time! How can–can you expect me to answer that qui-quickly!”

“Let’s try another.” 

It hurts. That ache that he’s drawn out of you is starting to sting and throb and he’s being such a dick about it! You twist and grind under him, and he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“I don’t–” you protest weakly, your legs trembling and chest heaving under his weight.  

“Do you want this? Wouldn’t you like to pass this class? To graduate with honors?” he growls, leaning closer, his hands braced against you, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on the supple crest of your hips. 

“You’re such an ass! Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then answer another question. What’s diffusion?”

“D-diffu-diffusion is the process by which molecules move from an a-area of… of… fuck- of high concentration, to low concentration. Shigaraki!”

“I should count that as another miss, but you got the major concept correct.” He removes his fingers from your waist and yanks your ass toward him, keeping your overeager hips away from the fleeting relief of the sturdy table. “Pop your legs together,” he commands, one hand wrapping around your arched throat, squeezing until you obey. His other hand drops to that thatch of curls that rest between your quivering thighs and he gathers up your gossamer strands, rubbing against your clit for one hazy instant, sending a flash of spots across your vision.

“Mmm, now that’s a pretty sight. Good girl, don’t move,” he reminds you and you want to scream at him. Right before you can spit some frustrated vitriol out, he’s releasing your neck, his hands dropping from your skin and letting you fall back to the uneven surface below. Just before your chin contacts the wood, his hand is back in your hair, tugging you upward, holding you a few inches above the table. The sharp pain makes your scalp tingle and you unconsciously rut against the tempting heat that’s now plastered to your ass. He’s hard. You can feel the stiff bulge of his cock straining against the front of his dark jeans, pressing into the cleft of your posterior. 

“T-that’ can’t be comfortable,” you pant, twisting your head so you can look up at him from the curve of your shoulder.

“Oh? You worried about my cock?” he asks, his red eyes flashing down at you challengingly. You don’t bother giving him a verbal response, opting instead to grind your ass up, catching against the jut of his length, earning yourself a low groan. His lips curl when you repeat the motion and you realize you love watching that smug face of his drift into a look of tense pleasure. It makes his scar on his lip flush and those red eyes of his fall to a lazy half mast. He spies your arched brow and pleased grin and pushes himself off of you, leaving you alone and open on the table.   

“Keep pushing your luck. I’m more than happy to drop you back to a B.”

“What?” you scoff, teeth clinking together as you clench your jaw. “I didn’t move!”

“No, but you’re trying to take control of this and we can’t have that can we?” Shigaraki sneers. “Now, how shall I punish you?”

“P-punish me?” you stammer, a chill racing down your spine. 

“Ah, I know. This’ll really piss you off,” he twists from your strained gaze and walks back toward his desk. What? What the fuck does he mean? You can’t see him from this angle, not with the way your legs are stretched and back is lowered, but it doesn’t stop you from trying, your chin lifting upwards as you do your best to keep him in focus. 

Ugh. It’s no use. He’s slipped past your field of vision. 

Hearing is likely your best bet, so you shift your forehead back to the table and listen, straining your ears to pick up any morsel. Something opens and closes and you catch the sound of the wheels of his chair as they shift, squeaking across the floor, and the groaning of the springs when his weight is applied to the cheap leather. 

Okay, so he’s in his chair. Is he just gonna look at you? That’s not… wait… 

There’s a faint clicking sound. 

It’s both familiar and unfamiliar to your ears, but once the teeth slide over the last pull, you realize. It’s a zipper. 

Oh fuck. Is he going to jerk himself off? With a gasp, your head whips back around. He’s still positioned himself away from you, and you can only just make out the sounds that are accompanying the undoubted rise and fall of his fist. All you can see is a tiny sliver of his body, but you catch sight of the coiling muscles on his neck and you notice that his head is dipped forward, pearl white hair settling across the cut of his collarbone. The one red eye that meets yours is blazing and hungry, it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand up.  

God, he’s staring at you, watching you, getting himself off as you’re half naked and bent over a desk in his office, fully subjugating yourself to his whims and fancies for the sake of your grade. 

Damn it, (Y/N). This should not be a fucking turn on. You should be disgusted, but the flush of slick that drips down your thigh says otherwise. 

He lets out a choked moan, picking up the pace of his hand, letting you hear the click and slip of his palm as it strokes up and down his cock. A shiver echoes up your spine and your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding your clenched thighs over the dip of the table, easing the clenching pulsations that your cunt is shuddering through you.

“Look at you, so desperate for my touch that you’re humping the fucking table. Such a dirty girl, and so disobedient. You’ve only answered a few of my questions correctly and yet your slutty little mouth and body keep pushing at me. Making me put you in your place. Let me ask you something, why should I go out of my way to fix your grade when you can’t even prove to me you understand the simplest concepts? 

Ah, here’s a thought. What if I told you I’ll wave the other requirements; no more readings, no more quizzes, but I won’t let you cum? What if I just get myself off? You’re putting on a such a good show for me! Why should I bother with seeing that you’re satisfied when that table seems to do the job for you? Sound good? Or would you like for me to come back over there and make you cum?”

“I–I don’t… I don’t want…” You can’t get the words out, your tongue feels leaden between your lips and you can’t think of anything but the steady itch that’s spreading from your clit. 

“Speak up,” Shigaraki demands, slowing his jerking fingers. The chair he’s sitting in groans as he leans forward, and his eyes wide as they take in the delicious sight that’s propped before him. “You don’t want to cum? Is that it? You’d like for me to get myself off and leave you there?”

“No!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the scuffed wood of the table. “I-I want you to make me cum.”

There’s a sharp clatter and you jump at the abrupt noise. It must be the chair you think, your heart pounding against your chest, waiting for Shigaraki’s next move. He only lets a few seconds drift by before he presses himself back to you. He leans his broad chest over your back, the front of his legs pushing against the back of yours. His exposed length is wedged firmly against the cleft of your ass and its tempting hardness makes you squirm under him, but he’s propelling you forward, pinning you against the rough wood, and you can only flail uselessly under his control. His lips skim over your neck and he bites into your skin, sucking and licking bruises as he inches closer to your pulse.  

You say his name pitifully, wantonly, and he lets out a shaky gasp. Something about your tone has shifted something within him and you can feel his cock swelling, dripping a rope of wet pre-cum down your shaking leg. 

He leans away, removing his sticky hardness from your ass. “Seems your priorities have shifted. You’re a little preoccupied right now, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice gravel scraping against your overwhelmed senses. You let out a weak moan and he snaps into action, his fingers pushing under your flattened stomach and tugging against the fabric that he finds. He yanks you upward, pulling your shirt up as he goes. His palms dip under your half lifted bra, and he cups at your breasts, massaging the rounded bulbs and plucking at your peaked nipples. Your head lolls back, and he sucks at your earlobe again, his breath warm and rasping as it passes by. 

“Hold still,” he commands. 

It’s not an easy position, this stretched upward arch that he’s forced you into, but it’s worth it when you feel his cock pushing between your tensed legs. He doesn’t thrust into you, opting to run his weeping tip against your slippery folds, pressing until his bulbous head is twitching against your pulsing clit. 

Goddamn it, you think as he stills, his lips smacking open-mouthed kisses over your shoulder, it’s not enough. You wiggle your hips back and forth and he abruptly exerts a firm pressure against your windpipe, leaving you sputtering and gasping. “What’s wrong? Not happy with this? Do you think you deserve something more? Do you think you’ve earned that?” He shoves you back against the surface of the table, his broad chest following the plane of your back, trapping you under his heavy form. 

You’d replied, you know you must have, but you can’t hear yourself anymore, your attention attuned to the warm length that’s pressed against your shuddering folds. You’d likely thrown in a please for good measure because Shigaraki rewards you with a quick peck to your shivering neck and his thumb, swirling it around your clit, creating a cresting ache that leaves you mumbling incoherently, a thin line of drool slipping from your parted lips. As he keeps that faint osculation up, your fingernails scrape over the wood of the table, your feet lifting you onto your toes, curving your back, and shoving your leaking pussy into his open palm. 

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki says, a breathy desperation lingering around the edges of his rasping voice. “But it’s just not enough, right?” 

You nod, licking up some of the excess saliva that’s built under your heavy tongue and crane your head back at him. His eyes are the first thing you see. They’re wild, ravenous and glinting with a roughness that makes you whisper out a soft whine. Fuck. It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to want him this badly. Goddamn it. Now that he’s caught your gaze, he won’t let you look away, and he presses himself closer, his cock twitching and warm, the tip rubbing back and forth, keeping time with his circling thumb.

“You gonna fuck me, or not?” you finally ask, unsticking your lips and smirking up at his hardened face. 

“Tch. Don’t rush me,” he grumbles, removing his hand and teasing cock from your cunt, watching as your body convulses under him, your pussy quivering against the excess stimulation that he’s wrought over you. Your thighs burn, aching to break free from his control, to rub against that throb, that tingling that keeps shuddering outward.

“One more question,” he tells you, lifting his dripping thumb to his lips and sucking off the traces of your arousal. The sight of him licking his pink tongue over his gleaming knuckles almost makes you lose your balance, your arms shaking precariously under you. 

“A-another? Come on,” you pout, your eyes following the curve of his wicked lips, watching as his scar quirks upward, amused by your useless defiance. 

“Make you a deal, answer it correctly and I’ll give you my cock. Sound fair?”

“Ugh, whatever, just hurry up,” you snap, so impatient and turned on that you can hardly think. 

The tip of his cock presses against your sopping entrance, pushing forward just enough to part your dripping folds but stopping before he clears that first, tight ring of flesh. The promise of his dribbling tip makes you lose any semblance of self-control. You thrash under him, but he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“No! Don’t stop! Come on Sh-Shigaraki–Don’t be such a fucking–ah–” 

“Do you want this? Do you want my cock?” he growls, leaning over you, his fingers squeezing down, no doubt leaving bruises in the supple crest of your hips. 

“Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

“They… they’re n-nitrogenous base… fuck… base that pair… that pair with guanine during D-DNA replication… I–please, please, Shigaraki! Fuck me! I want your cock! Fuck me, fuck me!”

Thankfully, he either takes pity on you, or can’t control himself anymore, his hips surging forward, gliding his thick length into your cunt and snarling at the mind numbing heat that waits for him. He keeps driving upward until he bottoms out, sharp hipbones grinding against the plushness of your ass. 

He’s not gentle with you, no he’s animalistic and raw, his thrusts papping into you with a terrifying strength. You would have liked something slower, something that lets you enjoy each imperfection and dip that raced along his cock, but this, oh, this is an exception because this is perfect. It’s not what you want, but it is what you need. 

The heavy fullness that he’s stuffing you with leaves you breathless, but you somehow manage to gasp out a string of nonsensical praises each time he drives back into you, overwrought by his roughness. 

This coupling isn’t kind, isn’t right, and is not healthy, for either of you. No, not with the way he’s using your shivering body, distracted with slacking that euphoric thrum that’s making his cock pulse and swell inside you.

But fuck it feels good and you can’t help but tremble with delight. These intoxicating thrusts of his ram him up against something that’s buried deep inside you, and each time he hits it another star of bright pleasure races through you. The familiar coiling of release is steadily mounting with each rapid fire rut he gives you and if he could just, ah, there’s something that’s… no, fuck, it’s, it’s not going to work. It feels good, but it’s missing one vital ingredient, one thing that he’s neglected to pay attention to, to notice. 

Your clit needs to be tweaked and rolled, and right now it’s pulsing away against the table, beating a sad tattoo into the grainy wood. Oh well, you think, head fuzzy, lost in the euphoria of his powerful cants, grinding your ass into his hips as he digs into another teeth chattering thrust. He’ll likely finish soon, and you’ll probably need to get yourself off later. It’s not something new, and it’s not like he’s going to care enough to focus on that, on you. This whole thing has been about control, so there’s likely no room for your own pleasure.

“What’s wrong,” he gasps out, his fingers lifting from your hips to curl beside your turned head. 

“What? N-nothing–I–” you pant, eyes rolling back as he hits that spongy patch of nerves again. 

“Tch. Hold on,” he interrupts, his voice rasping and breathy. He pulls himself out of you with a grunt and yanks you upward, hauling you onto the tabletop and flipping you on your back, bending your stiffened legs and bracing your knees against his lean forearms. 

He holds you apart, spreading you open with his powerful hands. You can see him properly now, and the sight makes your breath catch against the back of your throat. Fuck, he looks good. 

His long white hair is draped across his bare shoulders and his eyes are blazing pits of hunger, devouring the sight of you with those red irises. His jaw is clenched, and he glares down at you from his imperious height, his nostrils flaring as he drags in a quick intake of air. To your shock, he gives you a little time to acclimate to this new position, opting to languidly step forward, letting his slippery cock head press and tease at the dip of your opening. But right when you think he’ll move again, he stops, his eyes roving over the lines of your face. 

His sudden stillness makes you peer quizzically up at him and you scoot closer, your feet lifting from the table. The movement snaps him out of his stupor and he grabs your ankles, roughly pinning you back down.

“Keep still,” he snarls through clenched teeth, that scar of his lifting. 

You nod mutely and he rewards your unquestioning obedience with another powerful thrust, sinking his swollen cock back into your waiting cunt. He lets out a sharp groan and grabs at your hips, jerking you forward, already drifting back into that all-consuming rhythm he’d started earlier. His ruts are a little slower from this angle but, in no time at all, that familiar ache pools in your core, stoking and building at an alarming rate. The driving force of his hips soon has you blinking back spots and distant stars, and this time he adds the all important pressure of his thumb, circling the finger pad over your clit and dragging a broken moan from your quivering lips. 

“So that’s what you needed. You close?” he grits out, his lips set in a curled scowl. He’s lost some of that early control, his hips stuttering as they connect with yours, his power lessening, cooling, as he looks for your release. 

“I–I think–oh fuck, do that again. Yes! Just–ah!”

He angles your hips upward and gives your clit another quick oscillation, pressing down until you’re gasping. “There you go. That felt good. You’re getting tighter,” he laughs, looming over you, shoving your heaving chest downward as he jerks your hips into him, forcing your body to do most of the motion, making your shoulder blades scrape across the uneven wood. “Cum for me. Fucking cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum and I’ll give you your A, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your spine arches as you break around him, your cunt greedily pulling him deeper, slipping him past the barrier of your tender cervix and earning you a weak shout of praise from Shigaraki. Seconds later, he’s pulsing and twitching against your walls, the warm pooling of his cum filling you up and spilling down your spread thighs. 

His head drops to your shoulder and the rough skin of his forehead sticks to your sweat dampened flesh. For a long moment you’re both still, each of you struggling to catch your breath, luxuriating in the tingling sensation of release. 

“I fucking hate you, you know,” you gasp out, your arms circling his back, fingertips etching vague patterns over his neck and shoulders. 

“Ha,” he snorts, “I’ll have to remember that. Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll pay you back for that little remark next time.”

“Oh? Next time?” you chuckle, moaning as he twists out of your hold and pulls his softening length out of you. 

“I’ll fail you on every assignment if you try to keep away,” he threatens, his eyes falling to the gaping mess that he’s left behind. You cross your legs, denying him the satisfaction of leering at your dripping pussy. 

“Fine. But next time, fuck me on something softer than a damn table.”

tags: @spicy-skull​, @xwildskullx​, @yixxes​, @ghstmthr​, @rekoii​, @diaouranask​, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love​, @libiraki​ <--- i’m coming for you. you’re gonna have to read for this, lady. so, uh, i’m officially noneconing you here. 

notes: you made it! this thing is a monster & i’m so sorry i can never stfu

[h2bakugou]

Could I have a fic or situation where 1-A was hosting a play and it was sleepy beauty? With Bakugo being the Prince and reader being the sleeping princess? I thought it be cute!

a/n: yes yes yes! this is really cute omg im so sorry it took me forever to write this but i hope you enjoy it hun!!

summary: the play was a class project, one for some short school arts festival. the play chosen was sleeping beauty, one that stared you as the princess, and bakugou as the prince.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff, some slight competitive nature with class b (i do love them im so sorry for the slander)

word count: 1.9k

;cut for length;

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"The school arts festival starts in three weeks. By the end of the week, you'll need to come up with some sort of arts-related project to present as a class." Aizawa stated, handing out small stacks of papers to each of the students at the front of the rows to pass back.

"Another festival?" Kaminari piped up.

"This festival focuses mainly on the arts. You'll have to pick something related to it. No superhero quizzes." Aizawa's gaze drifts to Midoriya.

You begin to feel giddy and excited. The last festival was amazing, the singing, the dancing, hearing the crowd cheer. It was so much fun.

"Let's start coming up with ideas." Iida suggested, ready to stand up at the board and write the ideas down.

"You have twenty minutes." Aizawa sunk down into his sleeping bag and closed his eyes, zipping it up before rolling toward the corner of the room.

"We should do another song!" Mina suggested.

"Or some sort of like mural painting through a song." Kirishima added.

"What about a play?" You suggested. A few heads turned toward you.

"I mean Class B did one and almost beat us in ratings. Think we should show 'em how it's done?" You tease, earning a few scattered cheers.

"I think a play could be lots of fun!" Uraraka agreed, as well as a few others. After listing off some more ideas, the play seemed to be the most popular, outvoting Kaminari's idea to do a maid-cafe-art show.

So after deciding fairly quickly, it left you with plenty of time to get started.

You had all settled on Sleeping Beauty, something that everyone had some sort of role in.

Though through some small auditions, you landed the role of the sleeping princess, and Bakugou, who had originally stated he didn't want to be in the play and rather help on the set, the class thought he would make a good prince.

After the first week of script-reading and assembling the set, you'd practiced enough to no longer need your script at all.

Bakugou, on the other hand, was a little ignorant. He'd practiced his lines over and over again in his room and memorized them within the first three days.

However, he'd pulled you aside on day four and made some rules.

"Listen up dumbass. Just 'cause we're playing some prince and princess don't mean shit." Bakugou stared into your soul, making you feel small under his gaze.

"It's just a play, it's not like they think we're together." You say quietly. Bakugou shook his head.

"It has to be believable idiot! We get married at the end of the fucking play. If I'm gonna be in this stupid thing I'm gonna give it my all." And with that, he walked away, leaving you a bit flustered.

When rehearsals for the kissing scene came up, you were nervous. Not because you had to kiss someone, but because you'd never kissed anyone at all before.

And to do it in front of your classmates, it felt sort of awkward. Maybe even embarrassing if you did it wrong.

"Alright, places!" Sero called from offset, allowing everyone to fall into their set places, you laying on the 'bed' closing your eyes.

"Action!" Sero called.

Bakugou began his role, acting as the prince who was climbing the tower to get to you, the sleeping princess.

You held your breath as he leaned over you, blocking your face from everyone else. You froze as you felt his breath hit against your lips. You jerked away.

"What are you doing?" He hissed quietly.

"You-your breath stinks!" You lie quietly, feeling terrible for making him feel bad. He raises a hand over his mouth and groans, lurching back from you, raising an arm to Sero.

"Cut! What's going on?" Sero asked, a little upset that he didn't actually get to see the two of you kiss. He wanted to tease Bakugou about it.

"I'm taking five." Bakugou wandered off stage, leaving you on the bed, sitting up.

"M-Me too!" You shouted, running off in the same direction.

You'd been practicing in your regular clothes for a while, but dress rehearsals were in a few days.

You got some cool water and splashed it on your face in the bathroom, wiping it all off with a paper towel before staring in the mirror at yourself.

Quickly checking to make sure your breath didn't stink, you were thankful to find it didn't. You felt horrible for possibly embarrassing Bakugou, if it were even possible to do such a thing.

Returning back to the set, you spoke with Shoji, one of the lead costume designers.

"Do I really have to kiss him?" You asked quietly. Shoji's hands stopped measuring your shoulders.

"I suppose not, not if you're not comfortable, I'm sure there's another alternative. Blocking the view would work like how you just rehearsed." Shoji tilted his head to the side.

"It's a little too late to switch leads, though if you're not comfortable, I believe Momo was the one who asked to be your understudy. She's memorized the lines while working on costumes and set design." Shoji spoke softly, understanding that you most likely didn't want the entire set to hear your conversation.

"Thanks." You nodded, walking back to the stage, feeling a little less on edge.

When Bakugou returned, you wanted to pull him aside and apologize, but you got back into your position and waiting for Sero's directions.

It didn't help that your small crush on Bakugou had now festered and grown even more. Doing this might've all been a bad idea, and it was going to result in you most likely locking lips with the explosive blonde in front of a crowd.

"Alright places everyone! Bakugou, (Y/n), let's try not to block the audience's view of the kiss, we want this to be believable! We need the good ratings or Class B wins." Sero encourages Bakugou to not block the view of the kiss from everyone. And now you feel worse.

"Action!" He calls again, awaiting Bakugou, you can hear his footsteps as he approaches, this time he's on the opposite side of you.

Everyone sits in anticipation as he lowers his head down toward yours, his breath, now overwhelmingly minty, ghosting over your lips. You jolt away once more stumbling out of the bed before running off.

"Cut!?" Sero pointed in the direction of where you'd run off.

"I'll handle this." Bakugou groaned. Chasing after you, he found you sitting back in the empty classroom.

"What's going on with you?" Bakugou's loud voice scared you. Lifting your head off of your desk, you peeked over your arm, laying your head back down.

"I just need a few minutes, I'm not feeling good." You lied.

"Bullshit." Bakugou closed the door behind him as he entered the classroom, walking over to you. You wished he would leave and let you be, but you knew he was smart and that he'd probably figured out something was wrong.

"What's your fuckin' deal?" Bakugou's voice was right in front of you now. Refusing to lift your head and look at him, you clenched your fists.

"I-"

"You what?!" Bakugou growled.

"I've never kissed anyone before!" You cried. Refusing to show your face, it had gone silent. Bakugou stood before you, his cheeks turning red.

He'd somehow roped himself into a stupid class play, one that you just so happen to have the lead role in. Admiring you was a challenge at first, refusing to believe that he wanted anything to do with you. But your drive, your passion for heroics, it fired him up.

You were beautiful as well, smart, snarky, but light-hearted and kind. Bakugou waged a war inside him as his own crush on you grew. And now he had to kiss you. And he wanted to, so badly. Desperately. He needed to.

Thinking about being your first kiss made him feel cocky. Your first kiss huh, it was going him. It was going to be him. Not from some stupid boyfriend you might have, or random boy during a cliche game of truth or date.

"Let me kiss you now then." Bakugou spoke quietly, watching you lift your head up.

"Wha-"

"Just shut up and come here. You're thinking too much about it, it's making you nervous. Do you not want to kiss me?" Bakugou questioned, asking for your consent.

"No, I do! I just..." You trailed off, standing up as you moved toward him.

"I'm just worried that I'm gonna mess up and embarrass you on stage or something-"

"Shut up." He cupped your cheek, silencing you as you stared up at him nervously.

"It's just a kiss. Just follow me, it's not rocket science dumbass." He pulled your face toward his, slowly leaning in, his eyes flicking to yours before closing them, eliminating the gap between you and him.

His lips were soft against yours. Still not sure of yourself, you tried to follow him, moving your lips against his in a similar fashion. It was sweet but oddly wet. His lips tasted like mint, and you could tell he'd brushed his teeth. Recently.

"I lied." You pulled away.

"Your breath didn't-"

"Obviously." Bakugou pulled you back into him, your lips colliding with his again, the motion getting smoother as you leaned back against your desk, his free hand finding home on your hip.

You didn't want to stop. His lips felt so nice against yours, you wanted to kiss him for hours.

He pulled away this time, rubbing his thumb over your lower lip, grinning.

"Feel better now?" He asked, watching you shake your head.

"Yeah." You mumbled. You were obviously flustered, your cheeks were hot and he could probably feel that while his hand rested on them.

"Can you kiss me on stage now?" He asked, heaving a sigh as he moved his hand away, stepping back.

"I can try. It's kind of weird doing it in front of so many-"

"Pretend it's just us. Block them out. Think we're back here in the classroom."

When the day of the play came around, you were excited. Dress rehearsals had gone amazing, and you'd gotten a little better at kissing Bakugou.

But now, as the audience watched, the show slowly going on, it was time for the kiss.

Bakugou made it up the 'tower' and toward you. Moving hair from your face, you tried your hardest not to smile at him. He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

It was electric, your lips moved against his, probably more than they should've. Though with some restraint, Bakugou pulled away before you sat up, 'awaking' from his kiss.

The play continued until it was over, the curtain call aligned all your classmates in one, all of you bowing as the audience cheered.

After stepping offstage, Bakugou pulled you aside, slamming his lips on yours.

"Be mine, I'm tired of acting." Bakugou groaned, watching as your eyes lit up.

"Yes please." You smiled, hugging him.

The after-party was a success. The dorm was rather alive that night, especially joking about Bakugou being all soft for you with dozens of photos taken of him kissing you.

"Delete them!" He charged after Kaminari, palms sparking.

"Awe Kacchan! Go smooch up on your princess some more!" He teased, dashing toward the couch.

"Shut the fuck up!" He grabbed your hand and pulled you up to his dorm.

"Guess my play was a good idea after all." You teased.

"Yeah. Guess so, princess."

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[watchmegetobsessed]

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 8)

a/n: oh my! we have finally reached the end of this story and I never thought it would turn out to be this long but im happy it did! thank you for reading and loving it, and now, enjoy the last part!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: 4k

warning: just pure fluff

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

“Girl, even if you don’t win, you’ll surely take the title of the hottest woman on the red carpet tonight.”

Florence’s words make you chuckle, but you try not to move your lips too much as the makeup artist finishes up the last touches on them, using a nude shade.

“Stop, my head is big enough already,” you tell her, giving her a look through the mirror. She is standing a few feet behind you, already wearing her beautiful, golden Versace gown that hugs her perfectly. Her hair is up in a neat bun so her back can be on full display and the diamonds in her ears can also shine brightly. She looks amazing while she is the opposite of what you’ll look like tonight.

Rhonda, the makeup artist has an amazing notion about your look when you showed her the gown you’d be wearing tonight and since the dress is not the sparkly kind, like Florence’s, she went a little heavier with the glitter on your eyes, using mostly whitish-silver colors, creating rosy cheeks and topping it with nude, glossy lips. Your hair is in loose curls with a bunch of extension, creating the illusion that you might as well be Rapunzel herself tonight. But you are the most excited about the gown that’s already waiting for you to be finally put on.

“What time is it?” you ask Florence as you don’t have your phone on you, but she has hers in her hands already.

“We still have half an hour before we have to leave. Dude, I can’t believe you are an Oscar nominee and might turn into a winner tonight!” she sighs, eyes shining bright with excitement. She hasn’t come off of this high for days, so over the Moon that you get to walk the red carpet tonight as a nominee.

“Don’t jinx it, Flo,” you warn her.

There’s a knock on the door of the hotel suit you’ve occupied for the glamming and Florence is quick to rush to it answering, but you both know who it is. As she throws the door open Harry comes to your sight, looking  as handsome as ever, wearing his custom made Gucci suit with a pink dress shirt underneath that matches your gown perfectly.

“Florence, you look wonderful!” his british accent fills the room, making you smile. Rhonda sets your makeup with some spray and you’re finally done. Standing up you move your legs around a bit as they went a little numb from all the sitting.

“Thank you! Pink suits you well, Harry,” your friend compliments your man and you watch them smiling.

When Harry’s eyes set on you, the light up, his smile widening from ear to ear. He looks spotless, freshly shaved, his hair recently cut and combed into place for a change. Not that you don’t like it when it’s all tousled and messy, especially when it’s because of your fingers.

“Angel, wow!” he breathes out as he walks up to you, taking your hands in his. You know he wants to kiss you, but doesn’t want to risk messing your lips up, so he is left with admiring you with only his eyes.

“Just wait until you see her in the dress!” Florence chimes in making you chuckle. You kept your dress a secret, wanting to surprise him with the first look. You gave out only the most necessary details for Lambert so the two of you could match.

“You’d be great like this too,” he teases, taking a look at your fluffy robe.

“I’m not going to the Oscars in a robe,” you tell him with a narrow-eyed look.

“I know, I’m just saying that you’d still be stunning,” he mumbles with a boyish smirk.

“Y/N? Time to choose a necklace!” Your stylist, Rupert appears from the room where your gown is hanging. He has a few jewelry boxes in his hands and he sets them all to the coffee table, opening up you are met with four breathtakingly beautiful diamond necklaces, each of them different yet so magical looking, you can’t decide which one you like the most.

“Harry, which one do you like the most?” you ask, kneeling down next to the table, mesmerized by the jewelries in front of you. Harry leans down and inspects them one by one before poking on the last one in the row. It has three rows of diamonds, not too big, the stones in the last row are shaped like water droplets, it’s such an elegant looking piece, it surely caught your eyes as well and you think it would be perfect with the dress.

“This one,” he tells you and you nod, shutting the other boxes, satisfied with the choice.

“Alright, time to get you into the gown, girl,” Rupert winks, gesturing at you to follow him into the room.

“I’ll be right back,” you tell Harry, risking a quick peck on his lips before you disappear in your temporary dressing room.

You fell in love with the gown on the first fitting when Rupert pulled it out, still in the finishing phase. It still has pins in it, but it already took your breath away. It has a massive A-line skirt and a tight upper part that hugs your body perfectly, a row of buttons running down the middle of it. The sleeves are puffy, but then end in a tight run from a little above your wrists, the same set of buttons appearing like on your chest. It’s giving out some Victorian style vibes in a more sophisticated and simpler way, but it’s by far your favorite dress you’ve ever worn to any event.

It surely needs the extra pair of hands from Rupert to put it on, but once you are secured in it, you feel like a princess straight out of a fairytale and surely, your prince is standing on the other side of the double doors.

“Alright! Everyone get ready for the big reveal!” Rupert announces, sneaking out the room so he can open the door for you. He waits a few moments as you hear everyone shuffle around outside, probably lining up to see you walk out in your finished state. “Okay, three! Two! One! Welcome our Oscar nominee!” he cheers, a round of applause is heard before you even appear, but it’s quickly replaced with gasps when Rupert pulls the doors open and they get the first glimpse of you in your gown.

“Holy fuck!” Florence gasps, mouth hanging open as she keeps raking your form up and down. Your eyes find Harry’s gaze and you see him in a state you haven’t often found him in the past almost two years you’ve been dating. He is completely speechless, eyes glued to you in awe as if he just saw an angel in real life.

“Y/N, I—wow,” he breathes out, still at a loss of words.

“You like it?” you ask with a shy smile.

“I fucking love it, baby. You look… You really are an angel,” he tells you, making you chuckle at his words.

“Would you please help me put on the necklace?” you ask him and he nods eagerly, carefully taking the jewelry out of its box and walking behind you, he brings it around your neck, his fingers delicately working on the clasp. Once it’s all set, you step to the floor to ceiling mirror, taking in the final look.

“There won’t be a straight woman left on Earth once you step on the red carpet,” Florence bluntly comments, making everyone in the room laugh.

“Let’s take some photos, I need to immortalize this masterpiece,” Rupert gestures around, already grabbing his camera.

The next ten minutes you take hundreds of photos, alone, with Florence and then with Harry. He still seems a little stunned by your look, feeling shy when he circles his arm around your waist, but it’s cute that you can still have such an effect on him after being together for almost two years.

Florence snaps some with your phone as well, your favorite is when he held your waist and leant you back, making you arch backwards as your noses touched since he couldn’t kiss you. You already know it’ll end up as your lockscreen, replacing the selfie the two of you took on your latest trip to Hawaii.

When it’s time to leave you grab your little purse with your phone and other necessities and the three of you pile up in a minivan, since your dress needs all the space so it doesn’t get wrinkled before you step out to the red carpet.

As you sit in the car and watch the buildings pass by, your nerves start to rise in you. When the nominations came out a month ago it seemed so far, you couldn’t imagine yourself actually attending the Academy Awards, but now here you are, on your way to find out if you’ve been good enough to be the best.

Your role in Sinful Heaven has brought a lot to your life aside from the nomination. The three months of filming was one of the hardest times in your life you’ve ever worked through and at some points, you didn’t even think you’d get through it. Working so closely with Levi took a toll on you while you were trying to prove in such a heavy and serious role. It was a mess especially at the beginning when you and Harry were still in this weird phase, but that eventually turned right when he literally punched Levi in the face and ten minutes later asked you to be his girlfriend. It’s a badass way to start a relationship and you wouldn’t trade it for anything, especially because it put Levi into place or at least scared him enough to get off your back for the rest of the filming.

When Harry left following that visit, you couldn’t see each other until filming wrapped and you flew straight to him and travelled with him for the next two weeks, hopping from one city to the other, watching him perform every other night and spending all your time with him.

When the movie premiered eight months later, you didn’t appear with Harry by your side, Maya was your date for the evening, but by that time everyone knew you and Harry are an official couple. Neither of you felt like hiding it or caring about what others would think and you were able to focus on each other and rely on the strong foundation you’ve built for your relationship.

He was there with you when the nominations came out and probably screamed louder when your name appeared in the list. With tearing eyes and choked out sobs you jumped into his arms as he mumbled into your ear.

“I’m so proud of you, Angel. So, so proud!”

And now you are on your way to the show, only hours away from finding out if your dreams will come true tonight. Harry squeezes your hand and you turn to face him, his soft eyes meeting yours.

“Nervous?” he asks with a small smile.

“Very,” you admit with an airy chuckle.

“Whatever happens tonight, I’m very proud of you. Don’t forget that.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, giving his hand a squeeze back.

Since it’s the first time you and Harry appear on the red carpet as a couple, once you set your feet out of the car, everyone goes nuts. He helps you out and even fixes your dress so it falls just perfectly around your frame before he offers his arm. You link your through it, taking a deep breath as the two of you start walking down the carpet, posing for the photographers.

You feel powerful and strong, like it’s the peak of your career, but you also feel that it wouldn’t be the same without Harry by your side even though he is making sure to let you shine tonight. At one point he even steps back for a moment so photographers can snap you alone and you think it’s such a caring move from him.

You feel a little dizzy from all the flashlights by the time you walk into the theater, Harry holding your hand tightly as he leads you to your seats.

You’ve been to plenty award shows and it’s not even your first Academy Awards appearance either, but for obvious reasons, it’s the most important. Sitting in your plush chair, you can barely stop yourself from continuously fidgeting as one category follows the other and it’s still not yours.

Then following a jaw-dropping performance from Dua Lipa, Chris Evans walks out with a golden statue and an envelope in his hands and your heart skips a beat, but not because of the man himself, but because you know he is the presenter of the Best Actress category.

Your hold on Harry’s hand on your lap tightens and you glue your eyes to the big screens behind Chris as he smiles around.

“Good evening. It’s a pleasure to be here and to present the award for Best Actress. The theater tonight is filled with exceptional talents, but let’s see the nominees,” he speaks into the microphone and then he starts listing the names.

Emma Stone, Anne Hathaway, Margot Robbie and Rooney Mara are called and a camera fixates on each of them when Chris says their names, all smiling brightly and waving around before your name is called at the end. Taking a deep breath you plaster your most wonderful smile across your face, waving around like the other nominees did before the big screen splits, showing the five of you simultaneously.

“We’ve seen some spectacular performances from these ladies and now let’s see who proved herself to be the best this year.”

Chris flips the envelope open and pulls the little paper out that has the winner’s name written on it and for a moment you’re convinced you’ll pass out. You’ve never felt this anxious before and you’re gripping Harry’s hand so tightly you’re surprised he hasn’t pulled it back, but he is patiently putting up with your nerves, his eyes glued to the man on the stage as well.

“And the Academy Award for Best Actress goes to…” Chris starts with a charming smile, holding a short pause before he finally says the name. “Y/N Y/L/N for her role as Marie Davidson in Sinful Heaven!”

Your mouth hangs open, ears ringing as you process that your name was called. Everyone around you jumps up, including Harry, who is screaming just like when the nominations came out, while you are completely blank. It takes you a couple of moments to realize that you in fact just won your first Oscar and everyone is waiting for you to go and get your little statue.

“Baby! Baby you won!” Harry cheers as he helps you up from your seat and you throw yourself into his arms as reality sets in. “I fucking love you, Angel. Go and get your Oscar!” he laughs, pride all over his face as he urges you to walk up to the stage.

“Walk me up, please!” you stammer, not trusting yourself with walking in this fragile state. He offers his hand without a second thought, walking you to the stage where Chris is politely waiting for you to help you up on the stairs.

“Thank you,” you breathe out once you’re finally up on the stage, every set of eyes on you as Chris hands you the little statue.

“Congratulations,” he smiles as the two of you exchange two kisses on the cheeks before he steps aside and lets you give a speech.

You thought about writing a few words beforehand, but you figured if you end up being the winner you’d forget the whole thing, so there would be no use and that’s the case. Your mind is still blank as you look down at the award in your hands, the crowd still cheering on you, giving you a few extra moments to figure out what to say.

“I uhh—I don’t even know what to say, this feels like a dream,” you admit talking into the microphone, the clapping dying down so that everyone can hear your words. “I want to thank to everyone who worked on Sinful Heaven, because I wouldn’t be here without them. To my wonderful director and amazing costars, it’s been such a wonderful journey with you all. Thank you to my friends and family who were there with me from the very start, believing in me when I was losing faith in myself, thank you for never giving up on me. To my parents who I assume are now crying in front of the TV,” you add chuckling softly, imagining your mom and dad in tears as they listen to your words. “This is a wonderful sign to me that I am where I need to be and that I’m on the right path, so thank you for giving me even more motivation to keep me going on my way.”

Your eyes roam around all the guests until they fall on one proud man staring at you in his Gucci suit and pink dress shirt, his green eyes looking glossy as he listens to your words.

“And last but not least, thank you to one special person, because I’m convinced I wouldn’t be here tonight without him. I have one thing to tell you.” Forgetting about everyone in the theater you hold up the Oscar in your hand as you finish your speech: “Never have I ever loved someone like I love you.”

The crowd starts cheering again as you step away from the microphone and Chris is quick to jog up to you and help you down the stairs, Harry rushing back to take your hand once Chris lets go of it.

You catch him wipe a tear off his cheek as the two of you walk back to your seats hand in hand. Once you are settled, you take a deep breath and turn to Harry who is already looking at you, the same proud smile you saw from the stage still on his handsome face.

“I have never,” he tells you as his answer to the last line of your speech and you chuckle as your free hand finds the back of his neck, pulling him close. The lipstick on your lips long forgotten as you finally kiss him for the first time tonight.

“I have never either,” you whisper against his lips before kissing him again and again.

***

  Smiling around you wait for the audience to quiet down as you make yourself comfortable in the familiar armchair. It’s such a nostalgic feeling to sit here again.

“Y/N, it’s so nice to have you here again,” Ellen greets you once the clapping has stopped.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course. A lot has happened since the last time you were here, you won an Oscar just a few weeks ago, congratulations!”

The cheering starts again as a picture of you appears on the screen behind you, wearing your iconic pink gown, holding your Oscar in your hands.

“Thank you,” you shyly smile, still not entirely in peace with the fact that you are now an Oscar winning actress.

“Such a major thing, congrats.”

“Thank you, it is a huge thing, yes.”

“Do you already have a spot for the award? Does it have a designated place?”

“Well, for now it is in my study along with some more mementos, but I’m planning to have a little stand made in the living room,” you share your plans.

“Surely, I would want to show it off if I had an Oscar,” Ellen chuckles. “You have such a busy time behind you, have you been up to something new lately?”

“We finished filming the third season of The Umbrella Academy, so now I’m having a little break before I jump into anything new.”

“Sounds nice, you deserve all the relaxing. Anything planned while you’re on a break? A new book to read, or maybe a concert to go to?” she asks and you already know where this is heading.

“You know you can just ask if I’m planning to attend a Harry Styles concert,” you bluntly tell her, making the audience and Ellen laugh.

“Well, I was just asking around about your plans, but I’m happy you plan to visit Harry’s concert! It’s also good to know that the situation has changed since the last time you were here, you definitely have been to one of his concerts since then.”

“I have been, yes,” you admit smirking.

“And I assume the two of you are now very close, am I right?” she asks and suddenly a paparazzi photo of the two of you appears where you’re walking down the street hand in hand just a couple of weeks ago.

“You could say that,” you nod, biting into your bottom lip.

“Amazing, because he is going to join us now. Everyone, please welcome Harry Styles!” Ellen announces and turning around you spot Harry walking out from backstage, the audience screaming for him. He shyly waves around walking up to the center, greeting Ellen with a kiss on the cheek before he turns to you, pecking your lips shortly as he sits down next to you.

“Harry, so good to see you again,” Ellen smiles at him.

“Good t’ see you as well,” he nods.

“So, the last time you two were sitting here, you—it was the first time you ever met, right?”

“Right,” you nod with Harry.

“And now you are…” she gestures at the two of you, not finishing the sentence, but everyone knows what she meant by that.

“And now we are… not strangers anymore,” Harry says chuckling, making everyone in the studio laugh.

“Certainly,” Ellen nods. “Alright, I thought that we could play another game, just to bring back some nice memories,” she explains, reaching behind her armchair, grabbing the familiar board from her, flipping it in your hands with a nostalgic smile.

“Can we keep it PG rated though?” Harry asks, examining his board before looking up at Ellen.

“No,” she simply answers, reaching for her cards as the audience starts laughing. “Okay, you know how to play it, no need for explanation. Here is the first one: Never have I ever used my fame to get in somewhere.”

Ellen is quick to show the I HAVE side of her board and you slowly do the same while Harry thinks to himself.

“Oh come on, you surely have,” you elbow him playfully as he smirks in your way, holding up the same side as you and Ellen.

“We all have, it’s not a shame,” Ellen shrugs. “Next one. Never have I ever forgotten the name of someone right after they introduced themselves.”

Ellen holds up the I HAVE side and you do the same again while this time Harry flips it over to I HAVE NEVER confidently.

“Really?” Ellen asks him, surprised at his answer.

“I’m good with names,” he simply shrugs.

“That’s a good trait. Alright, let’s move on. Never have I ever punched someone in the face.”

It’s a sneaky and very shady statement. Just a few days after the incident with Levi, word got out that he was punched, a few blurry pictures floating around the internet of his bruise, then fans figured out it had to happen around the time Harry visited set and people were quick to put the picture together and assume that Harry was the one who hit Levi, but it was never confirmed.

Glancing at your boyfriend you are fighting your smile back, holding up the I HAVE NEVER side as he is looking back at you slyly, continuously flipping his board before it finally lands on I HAVE, the audience immediately rumbling at the partial confirmation and seemingly Ellen is also amazed by Harry’s honesty.

“Alright, interesting. Love that for you, Harry,” he comments making everyone laugh as you reach over and give Harry’s hand a squeeze. “Last one,” Ellen announces, reading the last statement from her cards. “Never have I ever fallen in love with someone I played never have I ever with.”

Ellen quickly shows her I HAVE NEVER side as you suck your lips into your mouth, glancing at Harry again. You share a look before you both slowly raise your boards, both reading the same sign on them: I HAVE.