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crsssie · 1 year ago

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sheer curtains

word count: 2.8k

warnings: hurt/comfort, messy soulmate relationship, angst to fluff

summary: It's taboo to speak about the situation, but Tim finds that a ripped curtain has nothing on him, stepping into your side of the line, desperate to have you in his arms for the rest of his days.

Tim's no stranger to the concept of soulmates.

Fingers pressed to your skin, nose dug into the skin of your neck, Tim has known you for longer than he could imagine. Since the early mornings of waking up in the mansion to the late nights where you'd beg your mom to stay until he fell asleep, you've been a cornerstone in Tim's life for a long time — fingers laced with him under the lunch table in middle school, arms wrapped around his waist during the short time he was in high school, registering the bond together years later than supposed to, you are Tim's soulmate, through and through.

His timer only had four years compared to everyone else in the hospital he had been born in.

And true to the clock, at four and a half years old, you skipped into his life, following behind your mother as she introduced herself as the new maid. Your timer hit zero, made a beep, and promptly disappeared into your skin, only the date left behind. Tim's wrist had done the same thing from the top of the staircase when the two of you met eyes — but neither of you would say anything about it. You would remember, but you wouldn't know. The small glimmer of his blue eyes and a matching one in yours — the two of you knew, even without asking, that the two of you were soulmates.

Neither of you really knew whether it was platonic or romantic, and neither of you really cared.

The sandbox in his backyard mattered more to the two of you.

Even when you two were muddied from the water spilled into the box to build a mound of sand called proudly by the two of you to be a castle, and even when the two of you were scolded by his family for getting messy, neither of you cared. It was fun playing with one another, and that was enough for the two of you. When you're five and the only thing on your mind is figuring out how the two of you would navigate his school, that's enough.

"They could be a personal aide." Tim's mother suggests in the study. "The two of them could work together for good. Your child catches onto things fast."

Your mother is much more apprehensive about the idea, but as you steal the last cookie from Tim on the couch and he doesn't complain, she relents. If you did not want it, you could leave whenever. It was as simple as that. The two of you could split up whenever. Your parents didn't know you were soulmates — you two did. It hurt when you spent too long without each other. Neither of you knew why, but you knew to stick close.

In the sticky floors of kindergarten and the wooden blocks of preschool, you had been sent to attend the same school as Tim despite the lower class status. He had kept you close, fingers interlaced with yours, sharing his plate of snacks with you. It was hard to figure out if the two of you had been just friends or if it was a puppy crush. But it didn't matter to anyone — neither did it matter to you. You were happy to be around him.

Tim didn't find it in himself to leave you alone, even when he made new friends and met new people.

At eight years old, the two of you found out you were soulmates during science class.

"When your timer strikes zero upon meeting someone, they are your soulmate." Your teacher had smiled at you all.

You tugged on Tim's sleeve under the table, blinking slowly at him, clicking on the matching date on your wrists. Tim nodded back at you, toothy grin on his face, lips quirked up. He knew. But neither of you knew if it was platonic or romantic, and honestly, it still didn't matter to the two of you. It doesn't matter to the two of you. It felt platonic to the two of you, so there was no need to register it with city hall. It wasn't required for minors.

Even in middle school, your fingers laced with his under the table, cheek pressed to his shoulder, heart racing in your chest, neither of you cared to check whether or not you were romantic soulmates. Even when he ran his thumb over the back of your hand, even when he rested his face in the crook of your neck, even when he stared at your lips too hard while sending you to your room, the two of you had never assumed to be romantic soulmates. Even at middle school graduation, when Tim had his arms around you and cheek pressed to yours, it was never a thought.

There was never a label for your relationship — there was never a need.

Even as Tim blinks at you owlishly under the dim lighting in his Robin suit, letting you peel the mask off his face in high school, he doesn't care what kind of a soulmate the two of you are. Even when you whisper his name in the darkness of his old room, eyes wide, struck with fear, neither of you speaks about it. It's taboo — talking about something that the two of you had known for so long. It didn't matter to the two of you, even when Tim was crashed in your room, bandaged wounds and quiet cuddling, even when you're forced to leave his house, watching as he's legally adopted by Bruce Wayne, left behind in a way. It's taboo to talk about the situation.

You continue in high school for the few years that Tim goes missing in your life, the burning of the date on your skin, a reminder that your soulmate had decided to leave you after revealing one of the biggest secrets in his life. He texts you occasionally, sending you updates on where he was living, but other than that, you see him less and less. The friend group that Tim had for a short while in high school also starts breaking apart, and you find yourself stranded in a sea of students at the end of the semester. You don't know if you want to continue. Graduating early sounds like something on the table for you. You discuss about it. Tim's been changing around schools and never making time for you. It might've been a sign for you to start moving on your own, even if the two of you were soulmates.

But Tim catches you before you can leave, as he does, desperate to keep you.

You sit outside the hall during Prom, undoing your blazer, letting the cold air run on your skin, clicking on your phone while seated on the sidewalk. You've left already, but you aren't ready to drive home yet. You grimace at the thought. Your mother's picked up working for someone else, finally, yet you were left behind in the dust, an empty highway at night, wondering what you were without Tim. You had known him for as long as you could remember. It. It felt wrong to move on on your own even though he had already moved on.

"Alone?" Red Robin swings down next to you, weight resting on the streetlamp as he stares down at you.

"Oh, look who finally showed up." You mumble bitterly. "Got bored in Bludhaven?"

"You know I didn't—"

Tim stops mid-sentence when he notices the way you look at him.

Alone. You looked alone. Lonely. It looked like him when he was staring in the mirror in Bludhaven. You looked miserable, like an abandoned child in the street, like the look on Dick's face when he lost his parents at the circus. You looked like him when he had attended his parents' funeral. He grimaces as he tries to reach for you, only for you to turn away, standing up, blazer in your arm, not turning around for him.

It's taboo to talk about the situation, but you rip the curtain first.

Tim's shoulders sink when you shake.

"Tell me to go." You whisper. "Tell me to leave. You have your life, and clearly we're just platonic soulmates. The news loves showing me about how my soulmate is out with someone that has someone else, because clearly, romantic soulmates would have their hearts crushed at the sight."

The tears in your eyes run hot against your cheeks.

"Don't." Tim whispers, heart sinking in his chest at the idea of you leaving. "Don't go."

"Yet." You turn around to face him, eyes hard, chest tight, cough breaking out of your chest. Tim reaches to help, only for you to hold a hand up to him. "You have gone without me. You don't care about me, Master Drake."

It hurts. Something seems to shatter in Tim's body as you call him that. You never called him that. It was something your mother reserved for his family and him back when he had been upper class. It was something that not even Alfred called him. He runs his hand through his hair, desperate to fix this. How does he even fix it? He doesn't—

"We..." You seem to hesitate. "We can get the dates covered up. I'm sure your adoptive father has enough money for the surgery, so it's clearly—"

"No!" Tim lunges at you this time, grabbing you by the arms, heart racing in his ears, eyes watery. "We. We can't. I won't. I won't let us. I..." Tim's head hangs, his own breath caught in his throat, something threatening to rip out his voice. "I can't. I.. I can't lose you too." He chokes out. "I've lost too many. Just." He falls to his knees, kevlar clanging against the ground, grabbing your hands now, pressing your fingers to his forehead, begging you to stay.

No matter how much you had wanted to leave at first, none of it mattered. You wouldn't have left if Tim hadn't said anything. You would have had a hard time leaving if he had told you to leave anyway.

But he's not yours.

It hangs in the air when Tim offers to drive you home, and it hangs in the air when he sends you back to the apartment, lips pressed to yours in an attempt to make you stay, his own heart in a predicament. He knows what he feels. He just refuses to admit it. He couldn't admit it. You might've ripped the curtain, but you did not step through. The two of you could only see each other now. Staring dead into each other's eyes, wanting more but never making a move. Neither of you could win. There was no winning in a game with no result. There wouldn't be a winner or loser. There would simply be an outcome.

Tim never returns to high school, and you settle with graduating early, applying around to colleges. You still want to leave. Tim was not yours. Tim wouldn't be yours. He couldn't be yours. Even as the two of you are seventeen and the world seems to fall back into place, he isn't yours. You go to the town hall to check your soulmate mark, wondering if they would have an answer for you.

They tell you you need to bring in Tim, so you decide that running away was going to be a recurring theme in your bond.

At sixteen and a half, you leave Gotham for Ivy Town U. You don't tell anyone other than your mom, a scholarship in tow from your writing, money from years of your mother saving up her salary for you. You leave Gotham like a ghost, disappearing out of Tim's life one day, number changed and disappeared like the wind. He tries finding you from the street cameras — no avail. You disappear from him, his own soulmate mark burnt into his skin, some nights worse than others.

Some nights, he's stuck in his bed, gasping, curling into a ball, praying that the stinging pain on his wrist would go away. It hurt worse than all the times when he had left you alone in Gotham. It hurt more than when he had his first girlfriend. But that was what it was. Your soulmate mark was far from platonic. Tim knew it. He had an inkling of a suspicion that you did too, but he couldn't prove anything. Not when you had disappeared on him. He couldn't text you even if he tried. Your number was changed too.

It bothers him to no end, deciding the last relationship he would ever have would be with you, leaving his boyfriend for you.

There was no one in the world that Tim Drake couldn't find — but it seemed that you were dead set on proving him wrong.

You graduate, inviting your mother to your graduation, smile on your face, lips pulled up gently. She coos at you, a support in your life, never questioning why you did specific things and not others. But it didn't matter that much to you. It never mattered to you. You've avoided having people ask you who your soulmate was at the cost of covering it up, and you had changed your appearance — desperate to gain control of your life again after being Tim's for so long.

You graduate early, and for a second, you think to turn down the job offering from Wayne Enterprises.

"Go." Your mother urges you, hand on your bicep, squeezing affectionately. "You know you want to."

And you do.

You miss Tim. You miss holding his hand under the table in middle school, wrapping him up in early high school when he was still Robin, the feeling of his hand in yours in the early days of kindergarten and preschool. You miss the taste of Tim's lips from the only time he had ever crossed the line to kiss you, and you miss the feeling of your wrist at peace. Both of you had been avoiding the conversation for as long as possible.

At twenty years old in the airport in Gotham, you stare at the man sent to pick you up.

At twenty years old, Tim runs into your arms at the airport of Gotham, sobbing into your neck, all thoughts about his public image gone with the wind. He clings onto you like his life depends on it, gasping for air, you finally in his arms. He sobs quietly, his wrist no longer burning, like he had to absorb you into his body so that his heart would calm, racing in his chest as he feels you wrap your arms around him too, giving him a gentle squeeze.

It's taboo to speak about the situation, but Tim finds that a ripped curtain has nothing on him, stepping into your side of the line, desperate to have you in his arms for the rest of his days.

If it would cost his life, then so be it.

He moves his head to your chest next, pressing his ear to your heart, listening to the way your heart beat, making up for all the nights he had stayed in bed knowing you had been out doing the same thing as he. He listens to your heartbeat to make up for all the times he had cheated you, all the nights where he had crashed without explanation, your endless patience for him bleeding through your skin onto your hand, his blood staining your cells. He listens to your heartbeat to remind him of every single moment in his childhood, the two of you glued to each other, enamored with each other as much as children could be. He listens to your heart to learn what you had gone through because of him.

You let him listen, fingers tangled in his hair, lips pressed into a tight smile. You aren't uncomfortable. Despite the assumption that you would be, you aren't. You wonder what kind of reflection ended up with Tim so honest with himself, but you aren't complaining.

You two are romantic soulmates. It showed in the way Tim had clung to you as a child, it showed in the way that you had wrapped him up in your room in the dead of night, it showed in the way you both had a burning in your wrist when you had picked people that were not each other. It was not taboo to talk about the situation when both of you knew what you were, it wasn't taboo for Tim to press his lips to yours in the airport, the rest of the world lost behind him—

because the world meant nothing when it came to you.

It meant nothing when he could finally hold you in his arms, longing long gone on your side of the curtain, the sun warm on his skin, your forehead pressed on his.

It meant nothing to him if it meant he couldn't have you.

Your side of the curtain is much cozier anyway.

#tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #dc x reader #tim x reader #LITERALLY HOW DO YOU TAG FOR TIM I GIVE UP #also if you notice the banner looking weird it's on photopea for the content aware screwing me up #does anyone know any accs that clean batfam comic panels here #☾.fics

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bitchlessdino · 4 months ago

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Put it in Writing (m) teaser

posting tomorrow 6pm cst

In collaboration with @camandemstudios Pairing: college student!seungkwan x Fem!TA!reader Genre: humor, smut Word count: 7.9k tags: college au, TA x student dynamic, push-and-pull, mentions of TXT's soobin, mentions of Ryan Gosling, a lot of fucking lying, explicit content, unprotected sex, hair pulling, cream pies, oral Summary: You keep things professional--as you should--even if one of your students is someone you hooked up with one night before the college semester started. Meanwhile, Boo Seungkwan is anything but honest--he's a writer after all--but if he is honest about one thing, it's about wanting to write a new story with you. interact if you want to be tagged.

“Now tell me your work. What is so amazing that you do?”

“I’m—“ a teacher’s aid in massive debt on their way to graduating with potentially a useless degree neither of their parents is proud of because, although you love it, you’re too proud to say otherwise, “—a indie movie producer with one of the films up for a reward. Super lowkey right now, but…we got Gosling.” You shrug, impressed with your own lies. “So, things are looking up.”

“That’s quite impressive.” he hums, intrigued and interested in hearing about more. “Is he as nice in real life as he is in interviews?”

“Ryan’s got a screw or two loose, but pretty okay guy. At least not into Scientology or anything.”

“Interesting,” He gaze dips towards you, being drawn to you immensely, if not locking eyes with you, scanning over your features, particularly your lips that wished to be claimed. “You call all big-name celebrities by their first name?”

You shrug, the lying coming more and more naturally than anticipated. “Only the ones I’m close with.”

His palm hugs the curve of your cheek, thumb softly brushing against your bottom lip. “I wonder what getting close to you entails.”

“Are you planning on finding out?”

You give each other a long look, one that keeps waiting and ushering the other until your lips decidedly crash into his. His lips part, making way for your presence, the heat of the kiss flushing your skin and pleased shivers running throughout your entire body. Your breath hitches when you feel his teeth pulling your flesh and a soft sigh escapes his lips before his hand creeps behind your head and muffles a moan that neither were sure from who.

You lift your body from the couch, chasing his pace, and pull him closer, kissing him deeper with all your might. You crawl over his lap, straddling his hips, hands in his hair, breath on his skin. Your chest tightens as he presses you closer by the small of your back, to which you gasp as you part from his lips.

He finds your gaze, his round and glistening eyes meeting yours in soft urgency. “You okay? Something wrong?”

You shake your head, palm clasped against your burning face. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

He lets out an amused scoff. “Keep up, Miss producer.”

#svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #seungcheol smut #seventeen smut #boo seungkwan #seungkwan #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seungkwan smut

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 2 years ago

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Howdy! May i request prompts 52 or 54 with dom Larissa Weems x gn Student Reader? maybe sugar mommy vibes aswell 👀

Heyyy anon! So… I went with a TeachersAid!Reader instead… But I’ll make it up to you by using both prompts and by adding those sugar mommy vibes… 😏 Also I don’t know why but I just associate AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” with car sex… 😆🤭

Tipsy Nights ~Principal Larissa Weems xFem TeachersAid!Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#52. “Fuck… Mommy! … Oh my, I’m so sorry, it just… slipped out…?”

#54. “You can call me Mommy if you want too…”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, alcohol consumption, age gap (all legal), kissing, fingering, eating out, car sex, thigh riding, mommy kink, praise kink, sugar mommy, implied degrading kink, etc.

Enjoy (;

You hadn’t expected this when you had applied to Nevermore as a Teachers Aid. You joined the school with the hope of one day becoming a teacher there as well. Larissa had immediately taken note of you when she had hired you, and throughout the year, she had noticed your isolated nature. Her inviting you to a friendly dinner had been spur of the moment, but she was ever so grateful that she had.

This was the fourth time that Principal Weems— or as she insisted you call her, Larissa— had invited you to dinner. It wasn’t anything relationship-like, Ms. Weems had suggested it at first, because she wanted to talk and make sure you were doing well. But now after three dinners and a fourth invite, you were starting to think that Larissa was simply lonely and that she wanted company.

And that was okay with you. You were open to going to dinner once a week and chatting with the blonde principal. It felt nice to be honest. It made both you and Larissa feel less alone. So you two developed this nice system; she’d take you to dinner and you two would enjoy the pleasure of another’s company.

~~~

“Can I ask you something the tiniest bit awkward…?” You spoke, fiddling with the wine glass in your hand as you looked up and across the dining table to the blonde.

The two of you had already eaten and were now slowly drinking the night away.

“Anything, Darling…” Larissa hummed, taking a sip of her own wine.

“Aren’t you kind of like my sugar mommy…?” You pondered aloud, “Like you buy me dinners and gifts, and in return, I give you company…”

At your words, Larissa had to stop herself from chocking on her wine.

“I… Yes, if you want to think about it in that way… I suppose so…” she chuckled.

~~~

You both left the restaurant a little bit more than tipsy. Larissa had insisted she drive as her alcohol tolerance was a lot better than yours. You both got into her car and headed back to Nevermore. The drive was taken in silence, mainly cause you couldn’t stop staring at Larissa’s lips.

“You’re staring…” the blonde chuckled.

“Right, sorry…” you muttered, looking away and your cheeks flushing red.

You finally arrived back at the school, Larissa pulling into the Nevermore parking lot. But as she put the car in park and turned the ignition off, neither of you went to get out of the vehicle. You both just stared forward as the tension in the car built.

Then at one point, you looked over to the blonde, only to find she was looking back at you. You both seemed to be inching closer to each other. Your gaze flickered from hers to her lips and back up to her eyes. And before either of you could say anything, your lips were connected with hers in a breathless, heated kiss.

You were just beginning to taste the notes of wine in her breath, but as soon as the kiss had happened, it was over. Larissa was quick to pull away, looking rather frantic.

“I… did I do something…?” You asked, concerned.

“Darling, we… we shouldn’t be doing this…” Larissa muttered.

“Oh… Because I’m your subordinate…?”

“I— No… We’ll sort of…” Larissa muttered, biting her lip, “I just…”

She finally looked at you. Her eyes were filled with a myriad of emotions.

“I don’t want to ruin a good thing…” she whispered.

You gulped and nodded.

“I… I understand…” you sighed, not bearing to look up at Larissa not wanting her to see the sadness in your eyes.

At this, the blonde snaked her hand into yours on the car console, attempting to comfort you. But then a though struck you.

“But—But what if it’s part of our arrangement?” You spoke with hope in your tone, meeting the blondes gaze again.

“I’m sorry…?”

“What if in return for dinners and gifts, I give you my time along with other things…” you whispered.

Now it was Larissa’s turn to flutter her eyes down to your lips.

“Yes…” She breathlessly whispered, crashing her lips back into yours.

Larissa immediately picked you up and pulled you into straddling her lap. You moaned into her lips as your core ground lightly against the side of the blonde’s thigh. Larissa chuckled lightly at your sensitivity, moving you to straddle her one thigh instead.

“I would say let’s continue this inside, but I don’t think either of us can wait… Can we…?” Larissa breathily groaned.

In saying that, the blonde placed her hands on your hips and tensed her thigh, making you jerk you hips forward in pleasure.

“OhHhH Fuck…!!” You moaned out, your clothed clit grinding deliciously against Larissa’s thigh.

“That’s it, Darling… Grind down on my thigh…” Larissa breathlessly purred, her hands on your hips aiding your grindings.

Another needy moan left your lips. And another. And many more after that. Larissa herself was getting insanely aroused at how delicious you looked, rutting against her thigh. At one point, your knickers rubbed against your clit in just the right way, making your eyes roll backs bd your hips jerk forward.

“Fuck… Mommy!” You cried out, your eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

But your eyes opened wide as you stopped all administrations, when you realized what you had said. Larissa was simply starring at you, mouth agape.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry, it just… slipped out—?” You stuttered.

“Shut up.” Larissa growled, pulling you by your neck and smashing her lips onto yours once more.

You whimpered desperately into the kiss. Larissa pulled back slightly, her lustful gaze meeting yours.

“I want to taste you…” Larissa lustfully growled.

Your breath hitched and you nodded vigorously.

“Um… Back seats…?” You needily suggested, your hips squirming in anticipation.

Larissa nodded eagerly. Within minutes, the blonde had you splayed out across the back seats of her car as she removed your knickers and finally delved her tongue into your throbbing heat.

You couldn’t contain your moans and whimpers as Larissa skillfully ate you out. You always had a feeling that tongue of hers was talented. And fuck did she prove you right… The woman had you cumming within mere minutes. And then again. With only her tongue. And the screams she pulled out of you… Oh they were downright sinful…

Christ, were you in love with this woman…

After your second orgasm hit you like a brick wall, Larissa came back up to your face with a smirk and your cum all over her face. Her lips were on yours once more.

“Let me return the favor…?” You panted into her red, plump lips.

Larissa nodded eagerly, pulling you up into a sitting position with her, and then pulling you down in the other direction so that you were now on top of her. You nodded, understanding Larissa’s thought, and you scurried down her body, rolling up her dress, and quickly stripping away her knickers.

You licked your lips and were quick to attach your hot mouth to the blonde’s clit. Larissa’s hand snaked itself in your hair, only pushing you deeper into her cunt. You then inserted two of your fingers into her heat. Larissa let out a guttural moan as you began curling your fingers inside her. Her thighs squeezed your head so deliciously tight, you thought you’d see stars.

You worked the blonde up and over her climax, happily drinking all of her juices as she came all over you fingers. You helped Larissa down from her high and then pulled your fingers out of her, coming back up to her gaze.

“Suck on them for me, Darling…” Larissa lustfully husked, indicating to your fingers, “And you can call me Mommy if you want too…”

Your breath hitched at her words, and you did as you were told, stuffing your fingers in your mouth and sucking her cum clean off.

“Yes mommy…” you whispered.

“Good girl…” Larissa praised, connecting your lips back to hers.

~~~

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hightwers · 1 year ago

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TEACHER'S PET ─── ANAKIN SKYWALKER

summary: anakin skywalker, sorry the teacher's aide anakin skywalker. teachers and students aren't supposed to be this close, right? it's a bad idea, right?

warnings: smut, gaslighting, coercion and manipulation. themes of student/teacher relationships are present. mdni, 16+. fem reader, usage of the word cunt, cock, pussy, etc. talking you through an orgasm.

Everyone knew Mr. Skywalker; he was the young teacher's aide. He was fairly young, couldn't have been more than 23.

And he was kind, charismatic, and helpful. He was often seen helping other students during office hours, staying late to grade and correct assignments.

It was said that he had a favorite student, but that's neither here nor there.

It was the first time she had failed a test. A big one. Fuck. This was avoidable had she actually taken the time to study.

And she didn't. Instead she decided to fuck around and get drunk with several people from her class. To be fair, it had been fun in the moment.

And much to her dismay, Mr Skywalker had asked her to stay after class.

Not wanting to leave anyone hanging, she did.

"Hey! I didn't think you'd stay! Cool, as you know Matt didn't stay today, sorry about that, it really should be him talking to you about your exam," he apologizes profusely as if that makes the situation better.

She sits there, quiet, and nodding along. "No, I mean its fine, you're his aide, you know just as much as he does,"

"Right, right, right," he says with a laugh. "So, what's up? You never score anything lower than a 94, and this time you have a 37, what happened?"

Ah there's the question. "And I understand that things happen, but are you okay? Everything okay at home? Was the material too difficult?"

She shakes her head. "No, I just... Long weekend, didn't prepare enough,"

He nods in understanding. "Well, you are young, so," he laughs understandingly. "We'll give you a retest, just come back in a week. Study the material, if you can't understand it, come find me and we'll work on it together, yeah?"

She nods. "Thank you Mr Skywalker," she replied with a slight smile.

"Anakin, we're not in class at the moment," he corrected.

Her smile widened. "No, I suppose we're not," she agrees, her fingers intertwine with her own.

"You know, you don't have to take the retest, there's. . . something else you could do," he offers hesitantly.

She perks up. "What's that?"

His eyes glimmer with excitement and he presses his lips together. "Oh, its uh nothing, nevermind,"

She deflated just a little. "Aw, what's the matter? It's not like you need a friend, right?"

He shifts uncomfortably in a chair. "Uh no, but really, its fine,"

She moved closer to him and leans over his desk. "Why? Its not like I'm gonna beg to suck you off," she joked. "Unless you ask me to,"

His eyes glimmer. "I'm not sure that's an appropriate. . . suggestion," he whispers. "But. . ."

She rises from her chair. "But?" she asked, leaning against the desk, sitting on the edge.

He glanced at her. "If. . . " he begins and shakes his head. "No, its not right," he muttered to himself.

She glanced at him. "I'll do anything," she whispers. "I swear, please,"

He shakes his head. "Morally its just not right," he says. "You understand, right?"

"Mr Skywalker," she pleads. "I'll do anything,"

His lips quirk at her comment. "Anything?" he asked.

She nodded.

"On your knees, sweet girl," he whispers and his eyes flicker with excitement as she does. "You have to be quiet sweet girl," he whispers.

The pet name fills her with a warm feeling, it courses through her as she kneels in front of him, her hands reach for the buckle on his pants and he swats her hand away. "Patience is a virtue, Darling," he whispers.

She moved closer to him, carefully unbuckling his pants and belt, tugging his pants down slightly, and leaving him in his boxers.

There's a tent in his pants, aroused to the point of wincing when her fingers brush him through the thin cloth. "God," he moans softly.

She's pleased with the reaction and her hand slides into the briefs, her fingers rubbing at the slit on the head of his cock, causing a soft and low moan to escape his lips.

A part of her knows that she needs to stop, that she needs to draw a line but the other part of her knows that she'll never have this opportunity again.

Her hands make the motion to tug the boxers down, leaving him standing at attention and then it hits her. "I should stop," she whispers.

He shakes his head. "No, please, don't stop," he begged softly. "We don't have to talk after, you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to,"

She looks at him, he looks desperate and he's shaking from all the feelings stirring within him; she falls to her knees again and pressed a kiss to his tip, swirling her tongue around him.

Her mouth engulfs him, her hand working whatever doesn't fit in her mouth. She allows herself a small laugh as his fingers tangled in her hair, grasping and tugging at it as he raked his fingers through her scalp. "Please," he pleads.

She groans around his cock as he begins to thrust himself into her throat, she controls his pace with her hand and head. She can tell that Anakin was trying to keep his moans and groans to himself as she rakes her teeth along his cock. His sharp intake of breath spears through her like a jolt of electricity down her spine and throughout her body as she licks the bead of his salty seed.

Anakin makes the mistake of looking down, her eyes were on him as she works his length with one hand, her full lips wrapped around the head of his cock, her tongue swirling around him and he nearly whimpered from the sensation.

She enjoys watching him in this desperate state. He's basically whimpering for her at this point and the minute its all over, with his seed dripping from the corner of her lips, she pulled away from him, her throat raw and abused from how his shaft forced itself down her throat.

He's begging her to keep this a secret, begging her to never speak of it again.

She won't, but she'll never forget how he begged her to, and how he promised her that she'd never speak to him again.

It was a one time thing, just to get her grade up, right...?

authors note: part two? let me know!! this was also... taking me forever to write. this originally started as a concept on tiktok because of @ioveanakin's edit.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #saia's library.#saia's thirsty thots.#hayden christensen smut.#saia writes things.#saia's anakin.

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lolita-lollipop · 2 years ago

Note

could you do a platonic bakudeku taking care of/pampering depressed reader?

SOFT YANDERE AIZAWA X FEM READER

I apologize I read this ask at 4 am with no sleep and saw Aizawa, so I wrote Aizawa. If you want, put in another request and I’ll write the original

———————————————————————

Your health overall had become a stressor in Aizawas life, ever since he had gotten to know you better as a human being, it wasn't that you tried to hurt yourself, but it just seemed to happen. That worried him more often than he would like to admit.

You had come to U.A. as a teacher's aid, or a teacher in training, and were assigned to his classroom. At first, you generally kept your head down, your eyes glued to the floor, not intentionally, but you were a little uncomfortable working with somebody as world-renowned as he was. being somebody who had just graduated high school a year ago, it was strange to be in the same loop as somebody like him.

Aizawa had known that you struggled with your health constantly, both mental and physical. Even upon the first meeting, he saw glimmers of anxiety in your eyes, the picking at your skin, the biting of your nails. All things he'd seen in teens before.

He even experienced it before in his younger years, when he was in high school at UA he went through a lot and had to deal with it all by himself, too fearful of being judged to reach out for help, even from his teachers. It made him feel so connected with you, except he wouldnt give you the option of independence. Even if you hadn't openly stated that you were struggling, he always tried to make your life easier for you, just the little things that always counted.

but, while you were shy, he immediately knew the two of you would be close, you were just so young, so much younger than he was, and he felt such a pull to care for you like he would his students. You were so selfless, so optimistic. Showing up to work with little treats or a coffee for him almost every day (even with your less-than-low teachers-aid salary), being so soft-spoken when giving criticism. He would always see you with a smile on your face, and you were so willing to help anybody at any time. That worried him even more.

It hadn't taken long for you to wriggle yourself into his heart, you worked too well with his student and always were trying to improve. When the two of you became close, he started looking into your background more. Your medical records, your records with the hero association, it was for your good, partially for his curiosity. He didn't want to invade your privacy, but the way you acted was strange to him, you were social and closed off at the same time, and it confused him.

Even so, Aizawa looked forward to your daily interactions throughout the year. The way you made him lunch every day, the way you always looked to him when you had a problem, the way you hovered close to him at teacher's events and meetings. He became used to your presence, even had come to like it.

Imagine his surprise when he saw the countless therapist appointments, medications, and rehabilitation visits written across your medical records. It shocked him honestly, but as he thought about it more it made more sense, tis is why you were the way you were, and he still loved it. That's why he thought you were so likable, it just made him want to protect you more.

Your relationship with him was a little strange, at least to most others. What kind of pro hero just becomes best friends with a quirkless teacher aide like you? He did everything with you, lunch, teaching, and sometimes even on weekends the two of you would hang out. You and Aizawa became very very close very very fast, of course, neither of you minded.

He ended up playing somewhat of a fatherly role to you, helping you when you were hurt, paying for meals when the two of you went out, and caring for you. Eventually, you trusted him enough to reveal the issues you dealt with on the daily.

Your vulnerability with him was cute honestly, the way you were so willing to share your deepest emotions and fears with him.

You told him everything that’s happened, everything that’s caused you to be like this. And he listened, he listened well and hard, and made you feel accepted and loved. Your relationship escalated from there. He was the first person you would call when you needed help, the first person to cry to, to laugh with. eventually, you realized that you loved him. NOT LIKE THAT. But you loved him.

As a child your parents paid no attention to you, from the day you were born they wrote you off as a nuisance, leaving you to fend for yourself from the moment you were able to speak. It made you grow up too fast, having somebody like him was nice for a change.

So when your teacher's aid year ended, and you had to go back to school, you were devastated. That was the first time you had ever cried to Aizawa, and it showed you just how kind he could be. From then on you knew that you would last with him, teacher's aid or not. And so you moved back to your old apartment near your little teaching school, it had taken every ounce of self-control for him to not move with you.

As months passed by he visited often, but slowly, he started to see you change. It was slight at first, just having less energy when you spoke with him, but slowly it ascended into so much more. Your life was all of a sudden so filled with stress, school overloaded your life, and it taxed your health, mental and physical. He watched as your nails slowly became more gnawed down, your skin getting more and more picked at, your eye bags becoming darker and darker. His worry grew with every day that you failed to call him.

Sometimes it would get bad enough that he would force you to accept his help, whether it be money or food or clothing, or even just a place to stay, he would make you accept it, even if you didn't want to. Aizawa just couldn't fathom why you wanted to be so independent, he suggested you move in with him so he could watch over you, but you had denied it quickly, explaining how you "needed to do this on your own".

He found himself feeling responsible for you. You didn't know how to take care of yourself, not in his eyes, it was only natural, you hadn’t grown up with much guidance towards self-care (as you had told him in a moment of vulnerability). So he would help you. It became somewhat of a routine for him to check on your well-being, sending a text at noon every single day just to make sure you're okay. It comforted both of you.

But, as time passed, school and work filled both of your schedules to the brim, and you never had time to travel across town to each other. So you slowly drifted; it started as days without talking to each other, but days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. At some point, he realized that he hadn't even checked in on you for 5 months.

After coming to that realization his worry washed over him once again, cold flowed from his head to his feet. You weren't ready to be alone, oh god what had he done?

He hadn't seen you in months, however, it felt like years, knowing that, he couldn't even imagine how you were feeling. The last time he had seen you, you had been doing well, eating and sleeping healthily, you seemed alright, so he felt okay in leaving you for a long period of time.

He should've kept a closer watch on you when he was away, he should've monitored the bank account he had set up for you, and he should've checked the cameras outside your apartment more. It used to be comforting for him to take a break from his life and check in on you, when did he start forgetting? Was he that bad of a best friend? He needed to see you. now.

And so, after 6 months shouts Aizawa was standing at the entrance to your apartment complex. Staring at the dirt growing thick on the exterior, the windows that had grown foggy and unclear with age.

Walking up the front steps, he observed just how quiet it was, the atmosphere was almost unsettling with how abnormally silent it was., you had refused to let him buy you a nice apartment near the urban areas of the city, so you lived near the rural edge in the older areas. The entire district was old and only growing older, crime rates were spiking, and buildings were slowly breaking down. This particular building was aging with every day. Paint chipping, door handles rusting, the elevator no longer was even in service.

He stared up the long flights of stairs, each step sad and grey and growing rust at the edges, even though they weren't metal. Imagining you have to make the climb to the seventh floor every day, Aizawa sighed. He honestly doesn’t know why you would choose to do this to yourself.

As he began to ascend the steps, he realized just how dingy the place was, the steps were concrete yet they were still able to squeak with every time he put a foot forward. There was a faint smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol in the air, combined with body odor and the smell of mildew, this place was just sad and lonely. Even the lights were going out, flickering and glowing a dirty yellow. The last time he was here the building wasn't in this bad of a condition.

By the time he was able to make it up to your apartment, his pity had grown severely. Why were you living like this? Why would he let you live like this? He felt at fault, one of the top heroes and he couldn't even manage to put his best friend in a nice apartment, even if they didn't want to be there. He wouldnt let you live here anymore, not when it was this bad. With that, he left three firm knocks on the door, the paint was chipping down, revealing old rotting wood.

The sound rang out through the hallway, cutting through the heavy air. When you didn't answer he knocked again, this time louder, and the sound reverberated across the large piece of wood again. He knew your doorbell didn't work, last time the two of you talked you told him allllllllllll about how you'd been trying to get maintenance to fix it, they were refusing. How long ago was that? It should've been fixed by now, he knew it probably wasn't though.

After the second knock, he pulled the spare key from above the doorframe, such an obvious place to hide a key, it was a wonder your home hadn't been broken into yet, even though he told you to move it elsewhere you hadn't. You were stubborn like that sometimes, he couldn't help that he loved it. The door unlocked fairly quickly, after a few harsh shoves to un-jam it, something you also had mentioned last time he talked to you. Something that was still not fixed.

he pushed the door open slowly, and a loud creak rang out. the rough feeling of the doorknob against his fingers was sandy and divoted. The silence in the room was louder than anything else. looking back at the door he saw almost four new locks that weren't there last time he was there.

“Y/n? I figured I should stop by, I was in town.” He yelled through the apartment door, loud enough to inform you of his presence but not loud enough to startle you, he was met with nothing more than the clanking of your air conditioning.

The stench hit him before anything else did, smelling like somebody died and then was resurrected only to die again in here, the scent was strong enough to make him have a double take. Usually, you were very clean, obsessing over the cleanliness of your apartment, even if it was old and rotting. It was strange enough that you hadn't answered the door when he knocked, but now not answering his call? Something was wrong.

“Y/n? Are you here?” he continued, stepping further into the small room with a grimace, it was a mess, not dirty, but cluttered everywhere, like you had stopped caring where things go. This was already a bad sign, last time your apartment looked like you weren't doing very well. Aizawa knew that he should've checked in on you sooner, he was trying to let you have a little space to feel independent, but he shouldn't have.

Hurriedly he rushed to your bedroom to check if you were even here, and what he saw horrified him. Upon opening your door he was hit again with the same smell, this time just a thousand times more concentrated. The sight of your room was just awful, he'd seen some bad things, but it's different when it's you. Clothing was strewn everywhere in large piles, packets of ramen and other instant foods lay discarded beside the bed, and some of the picture frames that were hung on the walls had fallen to the floor. Your room wasn't very large in the first place, so the trash and clothing crowded the space, making the air even denser.

It took him a few moments to realize that you were here, just buried under months of trash. You were hidden under a crevice in your bed, sleeping so heavily it worried him. Immediately he moved to get you out, shoving all the stuff off of you and looping his arm under your waist to hoist you up, you were lighter, frailer. Your breathing was shallow, almost like you were struggling to inhale and exhale a sufficient amount. He cupped your head on his shoulder and hurried out of your bedroom.

He frowned at your state, you hadn't been eating well, even though he made sure you set reminders for yourself every day. Your clothing looked baggy and dirty, your eyes sunken in and glued shut, and your hair. Oh god your hair, he could tell it hadn't been brushed in quite some time, you had it tied back but he could still see the knots starting at your scalp. How had it gotten this bad? More importantly, why hadn't you called him? He was supposed to be there for you, but clearly, he wasn't.

“Y/n, Y/n cmon I need you to wake up sweetheart, please. Open those eyes for me, I know you can do it.” he practically begged, cupping your head with his hand and holding you up to get a better look at you. He shook you gently and watched as you stirred. Groaning in your sleep, your eyes groggily fluttered open, you brought your hand up to rub the sleep haze out of your vision, only to realize you were in the grasp of somebody else. You let out a startled squeak and sent your hands flying out in front of you to push the person off, then you were reminded how exhausted your body was, as even that small motion brought pain bursting through your fingertips.

“Whoah- whoah it's okay- y/n it's me, it's me- I’m not going to hurt you- you're okay-” he stammered out soothing words, and one of his hands immediately went out to grasp your own, holding them still. He wasn't worried about you hurting him, you probably couldn't even if you wanted to, he was worried about you hurting yourself. Upon realizing that it was your best friend, and not an intruder aiming to do horrible things, you relaxed in his arms, finding comfort in physical touch for the first time in months. God you missed this, more than anything.

“Why didn't you tell me you were coming around? I would've cleaned up,” you spoke, your voice hoarse and raspy, almost like you hadn't been using it that often. You met his gaze, and he stared back with this sympathetic look you had grown to know so well, immediately your eyes found the floor, embarrassed. You knew that it meant he was going to lecture you about something, and you could predict the words that would come out of his mouth before he even spoke.

“I figured it would be alright if I came in like I usually did… Y/n we need to talk- are you okay? This-this is bad, worse than last time- I told you to call me if you were feeling like this anymore, I know how you get.” he lectured with that mother hen tone he always had with you, aizawa was always so caring, so soft. Not to anybody other than you, but that's how you knew him. With his words, you found your lip wobbling, and little tears pooling in your eyes. You didn't know how to tell him anything when he was making that face at you, the pity stare, so you buried your head further into his shoulder and spoke.

“I just- I thought you would get mad at me- I was doing so good last time and I just went back and made it all I jus-” You stammered out, tears now streaming down your cheeks and onto his shirt, around halfway through your voice broke into a sob. You knew that he would have to come some time or another but you hadn't expected your emotions to just flow out entirely like this. Little sobs left your mouth to the point that you couldn't keep speaking, he rubbed circles into your lower back, bouncing up and down a little to calm you, or at least try.

“I would never- NEVER. Baby you can't live like this, I can't let you live like this.” He pulled your head from the nook in his shoulder, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“I know. I just- I just didn't know how to fix it- and I didn't want to make you upset so I just let it- Don't be mad- please” You couldn't even control what you were saying anymore, your words just flew out o your mouth faster than you could think of them.

“It's okay- I’m here now. You won't have to worry anymore okay? I'll make it better, I'll help you get through this. You're alright.” He confirmed, all he wanted to do right now was make you feel okay, as you didn't. He wouldnt leave you alone again, he wouldnt dare. You've never scared him like this, it's never been this bad. Hell take of you, he has to now.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, you crying into his shoulder, and him rubbing your back and holding you close. After a minute or two he set you on the ground, keeping a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the door. You followed blindly, too caught up in your crying to care about where your feet were taking you. You leaned into him naturally, clutching him close.

The trek down the hallway was slow and painstakingly quiet, by the time you reached the stairs he had you in his arms again. You were barefoot, and the last thing he wanted was for you to nick your foot on anything in the carpet, especially when you were so fragile, so frail. He wouldnt let anything hurt you now, not even the carpet.

You were his responsibility now, fully his responsibility. Seeing how you are right now, how unstable, how fragile, he HAS to protect you, he just can't let you hurt like this. Such a sweet girl in such a large amount of pain, it almost makes him angry. Not at you, at the world for doing this to you.

He will protect you now

He has to

"so- um. Ya like jazz?" you let out a sad giggle through your tears, and he smirked. you weren't used to being so serious with him.

---

It took you a very long time to stop your crying, long enough that you had gotten into his car with him, and he began to drive. Where? You had no clue, but you knew he would only mean the best for you. The entire time he was comforting you in the car, when he wasn't sending worried glances he was giving you words of encouragement.

You didn't know what to say anymore, you and Aizawa have been close for quite some time, and naturally as a teacher he cared for you like one of his students, you were close in age, a little bit older than the kids he cared for. He has seen you at your lowest lows… clearly… but you don't think he's ever seen you this bad before, you honestly don't think you've seen yourself this bad before.

All you wanted to do was prove to yourself that you could handle this like an adult, that's why you never called or reached out, you just wanted to feel mature enough to handle your own issues. Without somebody forcing you to handle them.

“I am sorry- I didn't mean to scare you I know it's worse than last time- I can take care of myself I swear, you don't have to do anything” You muttered, bringing your knees up to your chest in the leather seat, usually Aizawa would lecture you if you did this because he always said it was “unsafe”, he didn't say anything this time. Right now you just felt embarrassed, you had just collapsed on him entirely.

“Don't apologize, it isn't your fault. You're gonna be okay, ill make sure.” his words were blunt (as usual, but more comforting than anything else he has ever said to you before, he made it sound more like a promise than a statement. He reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze before returning to his normal driving. The atmosphere remained comfortably quiet for a few more moments before you decided to speak again.

“so.. . where are we going?” You asked, hoping it was someplace nice, away from all your responsibilities. you weren't opposed to going to his house, but you knew that if you did, you would cave in even more. Meaning your independence would revert to how it was.

“Home. “

—————————————

I’m back lol. It’s been a while so I hope this was good, I have felt with some mental instability in the past so o tried to use my knowledge from my own personal expierience here, don’t come for me if it doesn’t fit your own.

Tysm for requesting! I’m so excited to start writing again. Love you all! And have a great day!

Bye!

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lightlycareless · 4 months ago

Text

Not really Naomi's first day of school, but more like your and Naoya's reaction to it. Mostly yours, Naoya tends to be quite... distant because of work ugh I hate it. 😿😭😭😭 I just like writing silly domestic things :)

warnings: fluff. domestic au; you have a beautiful daughter with Naoya named Naomi. He is a good husband!!! as well as an overprotective father, just like you.

Happy reading!

“—but nothing too far, we must be able to answer quickly if something happens!”

“Then why are we even considering beyond the estate? There’s no safer place than here!”

“Well, you are right in some way… but she still deserves to make friends, you know? Hang out with kids her age, make friends… do things of her age! And not limit herself to me or my staff…”

“No one will be good enough for my little mochi. We might as well keep her here, you know? Besides, she actually doesn’t need to go to school. She has her whole life set up already just for being my daughter!”

“Oh, Naoya, just listen to yourself! We can’t deprive Naomi of the world! It’s her right, just as anybody else’s”

“But we can choose what’s right for her, and I think her being homeschooled is the best option.”

“…For us, not for her.”

Naoya sighs.

Seems that at the end of the day, no matter how much the two tried to avoid the subject, they always came back to the same conclusion: Naomi needed to go to school.

No homeschooling, no private tutoring, none of that. She ought to go to an actual building where she’d meet other people, from teachers ready to aid her growth, to kids who wished to befriend and play with her.

It was a day that everybody knew was coming, and yet, you and Naoya couldn’t help but feel highly unprepared; mainly due to both needing to prolong the inevitably.

And neither could be blamed, after all, you and Naoya had grown accustomed to having little Naomi around all day; hearing her cute giggles resounding across the estate, the pitter patter of her feet running from one side of the hallway to the other, her witty chatter that often made little to no sense, yet you loved hearing, for it filled the cold, emptiness of your home with her warm presence, to her adorable snores…

You didn’t want her to go. You wished her to stay…

But as good parents, this needed to be done. And soon, instead of taking Naomi to accompany you to your errands, or your quick runs to satisfy whatever sweet craving you had, you’d be taking her to school; to leave her there for seemingly endless hours, unable to know what she was doing.

If she was happy, if she needed you.

And yet, that was the beauty of watching her grow; another part of you wanting to accompany her through this special moment and all that pertained through it: from buying her first backpack, dressing her up in her first school uniform, to helping her choose what hairstyle she wanted for her first day—

It was all exciting for you and Naoya.

Didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult for overbearing parents like you to drop her off at the gates of whatever prestigious school both decided to enroll her in (only the best, Naoya required, anything less is just a waste of my time).

You naturally preserved the moment through thousands of pictures, a few selections posted on her dedicated Instagram and causing an expected commotion in your family.

naomis_grandpa: Naomi-chan looks adorable as ever!! I can’t believe she’s going to school already—time sure flies by! Why don’t we celebrate her first day of school by having a small gathering? I can arrange something over there!

l/n_hinata: Oh, I wish I could’ve been there but you know how work is 😥😥!! I’ll call you later to ask how her first day went (and if you’re faring well lol) Good luck, Naomi-chan!!

l/n_ren: Haha, she looks just like you on your first day, all the way down to the pout! The resemblance is uncanny, she really is your daughter.

zenin_y/n: I wasn’t like that on my first day..

the_strongest_one: Yes, you were! I remember! You wouldn’t stop crying once your mom and dad left you hahahaha!! I think I have a picture somewhere… anyways, did Naomi cry like you? Or was she strong, like me?

zenin_naoya: leave my wife alone.

the_strongest_one: sure sure, but does your wife know you just dm’d me asking for the picture?

zenin_y/n: Naoya.

But Satoru’s words did highlight an important point, one that you expected to happen yet surprisingly, it didn’t. Naoya was equally amazed when you told him about it…

In other words, contrary to all beliefs… Naomi did not cry. She did not whine, demand to be taken back home, nor did she tightly cling onto you as you guided her onto the entrance.

Nope, nothing at all.

Instead, she was excited to start this new adventure! See what this so-called school had to offer and seize the moment!

You won’t deny that seeing her so happy was both elating and disappointing in some ways, undoubtedly for having your expectations refuted—the two were virtually inseparable, after all, surely… Naomi was just as affected as you were.

But alas, the ones far more emotionally invested were you and Naoya, trying your best to move on with their day as if nothing had changed, behaving like Naomi was still at home, just around the corner…

Kind of dramatic, wasn’t it? She was to return home 4 hours later…

“Oh!” Your thoughts would be interrupted by the loud sound of your cellphone ringing, a call from the only person you expected to do so at this time, pausing your work and rushing to respond, a smile on your lips as your husband’s face appears on the screen. “Hello, my love! How are you? How’s work treating you?”

“Dreadful, princess—as always, every second I go on without you is pure torture.” He confesses, exhaustion evident in his face. Oh, how you wished to kiss his worries away. “Just wanted to check in on you, I didn’t call you on a bad time, did I?”

“No, not at all. I was just tending to the garden; I heard you asked the gardeners to change the flowers to something Naomi liked, That’s very sweet of you.”

“Well, she mentioned liking sunflowers—and you know I had to do it.” He states proudly, your heart flutters at his smirk. “And you? How is my pretty princess?”

“Tired.” You admit. “And a bit hungry too; it’s almost noon.”

“Don’t forget to eat, I don’t want to come home and hear you hadn’t.”

“I know, I know… it’s not like my staff will allow it anyways.”

“Good. It’s what I pay them from.”

“Naoya…”

“I know, I know.” He sighs. “No need to scold me.”

“I’m not scolding you…” you pout, Naoya laughs.

“You’re adorable—anyways, do you know how my beloved dumpling is doing? I’ve missed her so much.”

“Ah, right! Wait, I think she should be awake right now so you can see her!”

“Wait,Y/N—" Naoya tried his best to lessen the shock which you would inevitably encounter once acknowledging reality, called out your name a few more times, but it was all for naught for you were determined into getting to Naomi’s room, hoping to find her playing with her toys in the company of either your seamstress Hitomi, or your cook Haruko, the latter being her favorite nee-san at the moment (though you don’t tell Hitomi that).

To see the glow of your face dim upon entering your daughter’s room is a sight that will remain imprinted in the back of Naoya’s mind, filled with an overwhelming need to comfort you, yet impotent to do so while kilometers away.

There’s no doubt now that you remember where Naomi was supposed to be, pushing you into a vivid emptiness her absence placed in your heart: a sentiment you never thought possible until becoming a mother.

“Y/N…” Naoya murmurs, heart-stricken upon seeing the sorrow in your face.

“Oh, Naoya… how could I forget that she was at school?” you lament, defeated.

“She’s always been there, it’s only natural that you’d forget.” Naoya attempts to console you, you sigh. “…What makes you feel this way? Besides missing her, of course.”

“… I don’t know, I guess… I fear that she might not like school at all. That the teachers don’t like her either… that she doesn’t get along with the kids…”

“She’ll be alright, my love. Naomi is a good kid, she’s our daughter after all.”

“I know, I just… wished I could be there for her. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but that’s how it’s always been! I’m there for her when she needs me… and she’s here for me when I need her…

I just… miss her, I guess.”

“I’m sure she misses you too.” Naoya can be nothing but understanding of the solitude you must feel in a place like the Zen’in estate now that he, and your daughter, were away.

Naomi had truly come into your life at the best moment, a blessing of sorts, that is without a doubt. For not only was she remembrance of the ever-growing love you felt for one another, and the achievement of a personal milestone…

But also, the one to fill the void your husband’s absence had unwittingly given you.

Though you knew the type of relationship you’d have once getting together with Naoya and all that his demanding career entailed, it didn’t make it any easier to live out. There were countless nights were your heart ached so much to have him near, and yet, all you could do is anxiously wait for his return—hope there would be one, if fate hadn’t decided to cruelly rip him—

You worry that your attachment to Naomi might come to harm her in the long run, that you’d hinder her growth for your own personal desire…

But you just loved her so much to act otherwise. You just wanted the best for her, and nothing less. Was it all too wrong?

“She’ll be home soon, you’ll see.” Naoya adds, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your gaze returns to him, to his gentle smile, a reminder that he’ll always support you. “And when she is, I will call her, and she’ll tell us all about her first day at school.”

“Do you think she’s having fun? Or do you think she’s afraid? She’s never been that social, you know? At least not when meeting new people. What if she doesn’t get along with anyone? Or what if no one likes her? Oh, she’d be devastated….!” You naturally fret as a concerned mother; there is nothing you’d like more than your daughter to be liked by everyone!

“I wish I could tell you.” Naoya continues, understanding your concerns for he too considered them—experienced them, in fact. He’s known what it felt to be lonely, even when given everything in the world. So, the last thing he desired was for his daughter to go through the same. “But there’s one thing I know for certain.”

“What is it…?”

“That she’s an adorable kid. The type one could only love. And if they don’t, they’re stupid.” He shrugs. “And there’s no cure for stupidity, so don’t worry about anything; She’s perfect just the way she is… and I know that because she’s got you as a mother.”

“Naoya… when did you get all sappy on me?” you murmur, doing your best to hold back your tears.

“I—I’m not sappy, I’m just… saying the truth.” He stammers, and though subtle, you’re still able to see a tint of red in his cheeks. “How about I pick you two up after work and we get something to eat? It’s been a while since we’ve gone down to the city.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful! And that way we can also celebrate Naomi’s first day of school! I can’t wait to hear all about it; I’ve always loved how cheerful she spoke, makes everything far more entertaining!”

“We just gotta keep this a secret from your father; he’s been calling me non-stop about a supposed reunion he wants to make for our daughter.” Naoya warns. “Haven’t seen him so enthusiastic since… well, he’s always like this, isn’t he?”

“I kind of feel bad for leaving him out…”

“Well, he is on the other side of the country.”

“If it were up to him, I think he would’ve liked her to be enrolled in a school over there. And as much as I love it when they spend time together…”

“Yes?”

“…We’re a bit too much, aren’t we?” Naoya laughs at your words. “People might think we’re bad parents…”

“No, Y/N. I know for a fact that I have much to improve, but not you. Never.” Naoya smiles, wanting nothing more than to hug and kiss your insecurities away. For he could be nothing but glad that his daughter was unconditionally loved, cherished far more than his family even bothered to care.

Your worries and enthusiasm just proved what he always knew, what he saw the moment his eyes fell on you, what his heart sung when he fell in love:

“You’re absolutely perfect.”

🥺

#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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freywrites1928 · 2 years ago

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Forbidden

Aizawa x Student Fanfic || (student is 18)

TW: student teacher relationship, smut

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Part One:

“Oh, yes! Right there!�� I moan out as his tongue sweeps expertly over my sensitive clit.

“You like that, huh?” His deep voice whispers over my core. “You’re so wet for me, and just from a few licks. What a little slut.”

With that, he brings up his hand, looks me in the eye with a dark expression, and inserts two long fingers as he continues his work on my clit.

“Mmh, fuck…” I hum as I keep my eyes on the gorgeous man between my legs.

“Yeah, that’s right. Keep your eyes on me, I want to see your face as you come undone from just my fingers and tongue.”

He begins to pump his fingers faster, in and out, in and out, curling them slightly so they brush against my g-spot with every pass. He keeps his eye contact as he brings his thumb up to aid in his assault of my clit.

“Oh, yes. Yes! I’m so close!” I manage out as I try to maintain our eye contact.

“Yes, that’s a good girl. Cum for me darling. Cum all over my fingers and tongue like the good little slut you are.”

“Yes. I’ll cum for you, please don’t stop! Right there! Yes. Yes!”

“OW!” I’m suddenly jolted awake as I feel a slight sting on my forehead. “Did you just flick me?” I look over to see the purple haired menace grinning back at me.

“Well yeah, I had to. I tried calling your name a few times, but you wouldn’t wake up. We’re almost there.” Shinsou points out the window.

I look over him, and sure enough, our bus is driving down the dirt road that took us to the annual camping grounds. Man, I really don’t feel like enduring this camp for a whole week. And boy, am I pissed right now at Toshi and his shit ass grin for waking me up from such a beautiful dream,

“Ouch!” He yelps as I suddenly flick him right back on his forehead. “Jeesh, would you rather I have let you continue moaning like that for the entire bus to hear?”

“Yes, actually I would. You couldn’t have just waited 3 more seconds?” I try to angerly whisper yell at him, but it came out as more of a laugh. His grin spread again and soon we’re both laughing like school children. With an over dramatic sigh, I lean over to rest my head onto the shoulder of my best friend. We are silent for a few moments, looking out the window.

“So, was it me in the dream? Because you know, I could sneak into your tent one of the… Ouch!” He yelps as I once again flick him on his forehead. “If you continue to do that, you’ll leave a mark!”

“Good, you deserve it.” I state as I lean back onto his shoulder. Strong, muscular but not too bulky. I look at my friend. He’s handsome, well built, and we get alone great (which I can’t say about most people I interact with.) And not to mention, we can relate to each other’s struggles that come with the burden of having mind based quirks. All this put together, and it was only natural that we sought out a relationship that was more than just basic friendship. Though, we both agreed from our first time together that it would only be friends with benefits and nothing more.

At first, I was skeptical because anytime you hear about a friends with benefits situation, it always turns messy. Not with us though. I find it almost strange, our friendship has remained the same and neither of us have caught romantic feelings or have gotten jealous or anything. We are truly just best friends who help each other out when we get horny or need physical comfort. Or at least, we were that way.

After our last hook up, about a month ago now, I told Toshi it was the last time. Of course he rolled his eyes, because I always say that when I get crush on someone. The way I figure it, even if we aren’t bothered by that sort of thing, most other people aren’t going to go for a girl who’s sleeping with someone else. Usually, the crush I have goes no where since I don’t ever actually talk to the person I’m crushing on, so it fades, and I’m right back to Toshi’s bed.

Not this time though. It’s been a month, and I’m still firm on my resolve, because this crush is definitely not going anywhere anytime soon. I can tell Toshi’s getting a bit frustrated. He acts calm and cool all the time, but he’s really just an awkward dope who also has trouble connecting with other people. As a result of that, he doesn’t know how to approach people in a ‘seducing’ type of way so now he’s bordering on sexually frustrated. Since I’m not there to help him out, he doesn’t know what to do. I find it funny. Him, not so much.

My head is still resting on the purple haired boy’s shoulder, as the bus continues to rumble along the road, passing by the beautiful forest scenery. I look into his eyes a moment, since that’s all the time I need to activate my quirk.

I immediately regret it.

“Oh my god!” Why are you thinking about that at such a peaceful moment!” I whisper yell as I pull out of Toshi’s mind. “I was sitting here reflecting on our wonderful friendship, and you’re over here thinking about the time you tied me up with your binding cloth! You pervert!” I shove his shoulder to emphasize my disgust.

“Hey now!” Toshi retorts. “You were the one having a sex dream and moaning right next to my ear just minutes ago. What do you expect! I am a guy after all.” He tries his best to look innocent but his mischievous eyes and slowly emerging grin ruins it. “And besides, I’m not convinced your dream wasn’t about me, so I’m not doing anything wrong.”

I roll my eyes at him. “You’re so full of yourself.” I say as a lightly punch him in the shoulder, earning me a real smile from him in return. “But, you should know, it really wasn’t about you.”

“Oh yeah Mia, then who was it about this time?” Toshi grins and raises his eyebrow at me, but the smirk I give him wipes his face blank. “Nope, never mind. I do not want to know.” He looks back out the window.

“Oh, but you were so eager to find out a second ago Toshi!” I taunt as I lean over and whisper in his ear. Just then the bus comes to a halt as we’ve finally arrived at the campground.

“No, I wasn’t that curious. You can keep it to yourself.” He nervously states trying to avoid looking at me.

The door of the bus opens and we see someone walk on to address the students.

“Calm down now.” A deep, tired sounding voice sounds through the bus. “Gather all your things. Everyone from all classes are going to meet in front of the main operations building.”

Toshi is still not looking at me as I lean over and whisper in his ear yet again. “You mean you don’t want me to tell you that person in my dream, the one that made me moan so hard even while sleeping…” Toshi finally looks over at me in what can only be described as agonizing despair and slight disgust. I look up towards the front of the bus, and Toshi follows my gaze, and we see him staring at us both. “…was your favorite mentor…” Toshi shakes his head trying to make the image that is no doubt forming go away as I proceed to smirk at the rough, dark haired man at the front of the bus. “…Aizawa sensei.”

#mha fanfiction #my hero academia aizawa #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #aizawa x student reader #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #shinso hitoshi #mha smut #aizawa shota #aizawa smut fanfiction #anime fanfiction

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out2pasture · 6 months ago

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FANTASY HIGH: THE REMIX - a next generation au

Adaine + Oisin - The O'Shaugnessy Twins, Ophelia is a Draconic bloodline sorcerer and Puck is a very maryanne-core wild magic barbarian (I think it would be really funny for 3 wizards (Zayne would help raise them ofc) to have to try to figure out how to raise 2 kids who are inherently magical and explosively so).

Fig + Ayda - No kids of their own but the Manor/Library is a safe space for kids who need it and theres this one young teifling, named Argo, they've basically adopted who is a cleric of Ankarna.

Kristen + Gerty + Tracker - Gerty is trans and you can pry that from my cold, dead hands, their son, JB is a Cassandra Paladin. He eventually multiclasses into Swarm Ranger. Kristen was the person who carried the first time and vehemently refused to do it again, so Tracker did it the next time and they had a little girl.

Gorgug + Maryanne - its canon that Gorgug FUCKS, so they have 2 kids already and an egg they trade off who carries it on them in a baby bjorn to incubate. Maryanne works making cozy games. Gorgug is the Artificer teacher and the tutor for 'uncommon' multiclasses and is 100% uncle Gorgug to the entire party, A Jawbone type if you will.

Fabian + Mazey - They have a whole passel of artistically inclined babies, the oldest of which , Boann, gets to Augefort first and is The Bard of all time. Shes giving the princess who was kidnapped by pirates and is slowly becoming a member of the crew, she plays fiddle and dances.

Riz - He grew up to be a PI and while he doesn't want a partner hes always wanted to be a dad so when he found an orphaned Goliath baby while investigating the disappearence of said baby and their parents, he adopted Pock "Juno" Gukgak Junior who is a rogue just like their dad.

((You guys can pry Fabian and Adaine being really ademant about having more that one child out of my cold dead hands too, Adaine wants her kids to be there for each other the way Aelwyn was for her (after she finished being evil) and Fabian doesn't want any of his children to feel as lonely as he did growing up.))

Additional notes:

- Jawbone adopted Adaine, Aelwyn, and Kristen after he and Sandra-lynn got married, Kristen is the only one who kept her last name

- After Tracker came back they hunted Gertie down and explained polyamory to her and convinced her to go to therapy for her weird temper and attachment issues

-Tracker and Kristen are nesting partners and Gerty used to come and go, but she became a much more constant presence once kids entered the picture

- Adaine and Oisin didnt get together until the end of college when they reconnected, they were in couples therapy from the beginning just in case

- Gorgug's kids are either not old enough to go to Augefort yet or a few years ahead of The Party, but next year his 2nd youngest will enter in a party with The Littlest of the Applebees

- Mazey proposed to Fabian via dance recital, they are the hot older couple you can spill all the tea to

- The O'Shaugnessys, Applebees, and Fayeths live in Mordred Manor (the fayeths' bedrooms are in Leviathan at this juncture),the Seacasters live in Seacaster manor, and the Gukgaks live right next door to the Seacasters.

- Puck is trans and Ophelia is hard of hearing, theyre both just as autistic as their parents.

- Argo has a prosthetic leg

- JB picked Cassandra for himself, Kristen would never pressure him one way or another and neither would Cassandra.

- He also has the BIGGEST crush on Puck

- Boann has crippling Eldest Sister syndrome, but would rather die than ask for help.

- Juno is basically a humanoid jungle gym for their father, it comes with the territory of being twice your dad's size before you hit puberty. Riz will either stand on a table or make them crouch down to reprimand them, "Pock Pila Gukgak Junior, come down here!" Is a common refrain in their home

- Ophelia only uses her magical hearing aids when she's at school or in combat, all of Mordred Manor, knows Spyre sign language so she's very rarely without an interpretor, Augefort himsef created an archanotech professional interpretor for classes. Her party members also know or are learning SSL.

Edit:

Changed Pock Juniors nickname to reference another Nonbinary PI that i hold dear ;)

Edit 2:

Finally finished Junior year and made some adjustments accordingly!!! Im so obcessed with Gorgug and Maryanne!!! Also did some clarifying about a few things! Soon everyone will have names, not just Juno

Edit 3: Names!!!

Adaine: Ophelia and Puck O'Shaugnessy

Fig: Argo Firethistle (their human parent is a gnome)

Kristen: Jawbone "J.B." Applebees-O'Shaugnessy-Bladeshield (a big hypenated name is very lesbiancore IMO)

Fabian - Boann Seacaster (I really wanted to name her Terpsichore but Brennan beat me to that one)

Riz - Pock "Juno" Pila Gukgak Jr.

#figeroth faeth #fantasy high #gorgug thistlespring #fabian seacaster #adaine abernant #adaine o'shaughnessey #fantasy high junior year #mazey fantasy high #ayda aguefort #oisin hakinvar #fig x ayda #adaine x oisin #fabian x mazey #next generation #next gen oc #next gen au #thoughts #adaine fantasy high

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yoonia · 1 year ago

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Chance Encounter | 06

⟶ Title | Chance Encounter

⟶ Summary | Sometimes your fangirling can cause you a lot of problems. Add alcohol and your clumsy thumb into the mix, followed by waking up to an accidental DM getting sent on Instagram, and your life changes forever. The entire mess leads you to an odd form of friendship with the man who you had always admired. But what happens when your two worlds collide, blurring the lines between reality and dreams? Will you be able to return to your real-life once this is over?

⟶ Author's note | It's finally here! After a long wait, I have finally returned with this story. I think this would be the perfect time to reveal the reason why I haven't been updating this series in a while and that is...*drum roll*...because google docs lost the entire files for the rest of the chapters lol I'm back, though, and I have every intention to finish this series because I still have a ton of ideas to share featuring this amazing man. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Six

“Are you guys still at the mall? Seriously, did you have to take so long to pick your��bathing suit?”

Pressing your hand on your mouth, you muffle the sound of your laughter while Christian continues fuming on the other side of the call. “Bathing suit? Damn, you sound older than Momo’s Dad,” you almost choke as you tease him, unable to stop yourself from laughing.

“Okay, bikini, swimsuit, whatever,” he says, grumbling on the phone, causing you to laugh harder.

“It’s not that we lost track of time because of the bikinis,” you answer him with your voice lowered, not wanting to draw any more attention from the people roaming around you when you had already drawn enough eyes on you just by giggling to yourself. Having people glancing your way is already making you feel uncomfortable enough, even more so when it feels like you are hiding a big secret from the world and you have an irrational fear of getting caught growing on you.

Speaking to Christian like this makes you feel that way. It feels like you are keeping an important secret from the world. Although you have to admit that this is exactly what he is—a wonderful secret that you want to keep to yourself for a bit longer.

Thinking about this puts a smile on your face. One that stays with you when you cheerfully add, “We just had a little detour while shopping, that’s all. We’ll be back on track and finish things up in no time.”

Just as you are saying these words to him, you cast a glance towards the other side of the store where you currently are. There, you see Momo leaning over one of the glass showcases lined inside the store with rapt attention, eyes glowing over the collection of expensive branded watches lined up properly on display. Right beside her, Em is basically doing the same, and it is almost comical to see their expressions mirroring one another, with the bright lights coming out of the glass display reflecting on their faces to make them shine. And neither of them is even bothered by it, too mesmerised by the flashy collection that they have been eyeing on.

“Is ‘detour’ a code word for saying that you guys are getting carried away at the mall? You’re not trying to buy everything you see on display, are you?” Christian speaks on the phone again, and you are forced to stifle your laughter as you listen to what he is saying. Even without seeing him, you can already picture his pouty face and the curious frown that he normally gives you when he is trying to understand something that he couldn’t get a good grasp on, which often happens when you share some of the things that you do when you are not with him. You turn to look at the watch counter, watching silently as Momo is helping Em choose between a couple of watches that the storekeeper has personally picked out for them.

“No, it’s an actual detour. We sort of encountered some kind of—distraction.” A smile comes to your face when you recall what had happened. To remember the reason why you and Momo had ended up in the exclusive watch store with Em, the last person on earth that you would expect to be hanging out with.

It was quite awkward at first to have Em join your shopping date, when you barely knew anything about her except for what you have learned through the few cordial encounters you had with her, especially after the cryptic comment she made about the gift she is looking for.

But you are thankful that you had Momo here with you today, as she managed to defuse the situation, knowing exactly well about your habit to overthink and worry about the things that you don’t fully understand. Once Momo jumped in to break the ice, you finally gained enough information to not be as wary as you were when you first met Em earlier.

“What kind of gift are you thinking of getting?” Momo asked her while the three of you were browsing through the shops and did some window shopping before making any decisions about where to go, and Em—having no knowledge of the turmoil happening in your head at that moment—nonchalantly answered,

“Something that would give a nice message as a congratulatory and send-off gift.”

Momo stole a glance your way then before asking. “Send-off? Is it for a friend of yours?”

“Yes,” Em said, looking at the two of you with a bashful smile that told you more than any spoken word could. “He’s a really special friend of mine who is moving to the States sometime next month. He got this terrific offer that would allow him to make more music, which is basically a huge upgrade to what he’s been doing here lately,” she explained, then she turned to you with a request, “He’s also a good friend of Rome. I mean, Christian. Since they’ve been spending time together quite often lately, would it be okay if I ask you not to say anything to Ian when you see him? I don’t want to spoil the surprise too soon. We’ll be leaving for the States together once the date is set, but my friends and I are planning to have a send-off party the weekend before. I’m thinking of giving the gift to him then.”

The smile that came to your face was almost spontaneous. The relief that you felt must have been palpable, yet you couldn’t get yourself to reel it in. Though you did manage to control your composure when you promised her, “Your secret is safe with me,” while you tried to qualm the feeling of guilt for having suspected the relationship that she has with Christian.

On the phone, Christian gives you a sarcastic scoff and says, “Riiiight—”

“It’s not what you think, I promise.”

“No, I get it. Those discount sale offers can be quite intriguing,” he says, obviously having the wrong assumption about what you are truly up to. You wish you could explain, yet this is just another secret that you would have to keep from him. At least until the end of the month, when Em would finally be able to reveal her surprise gift for her special friend. “Look, just go ahead and have fun with your friend. You deserve it,” Christian adds, though his voice sounds lighter, no more of his feigned annoyance is heard. In its place, you can hear his smile, which only draws your own to appear.

“Thank you,” you say to him. “Aren’t you supposed to be busy right now?”

“Yeah, I’m in the middle of a break, but we’re getting back into it in a minute,” he says, already sounding a bit distracted just as the noises behind him start growing a bit louder. “Call me when you’re back. Maybe, you know, you can give me a little preview—”

Knowing where this is heading, you quickly cut him off before he could say the words, “Goodbye, Ian.”

He chuckles on the phone. “See you later, baby,” he says, before ending the call, all while your heart is racing so violently in your chest for the endearment that he had just given you. Immediately, your face grows hot, and your mind seems to be swirling up to the air with the joy blooming inside you.

Still feeling as if you are on cloud nine, you almost miss it when Momo turns to call you over, “I think we’ve found the perfect one. Come here and take a look at this, try to see if you like it too.”

Putting your phone away, you rush towards your best friend and your new shopping companion, Em, who appears just as giddy and excited as Momo is to show what they have found. Seeing their combined reactions, you cannot help but share the same sentiment, and it adds a bit of pep to your footsteps as you come to join them in finding the perfect gift for Em’s secret crush.

“How about this one?” Em asks you as she shows you yet another pair of bikinis that seems a bit too revealing compared to what you are used to. You make no comment about her choice of outfit as she hands the delicate pair to you, choosing to take a good look at the piece to appreciate her genuine effort in helping you to find the piece that might fit your taste more.

Ever since the three of you came into the store, both Em and Momo have been assisting you to find the perfect pair for you to buy, as they took notice of your indecisiveness right away. Everything you are seeing in the store has been lovely that it is making it impossible for you to choose, yet the two girls have only been of little help to you. Because when Em keeps choosing the most revealing and extremely daring ones she could find in the store which makes your face burn each time you try to imagine yourself wearing them, Momo has been choosing the ones with the brightest colours and flashy frills that you would never be able to wear without getting your face burning in embarrassment.

This time, however, the piece that you are holding in your hand seems to have caught your eye. It is a solid coffee-coloured triangle set with beaded strings, and a halter top that covers just a bit more skin compared to the previous ones she showed you. The piece sure looks like a major upgrade from the small black piece that she showed you earlier with the top which barely covered your boobs and the thin strip bottom, and while it looks revealing, it seems a bit more appropriate to wear at Momo’s house this weekend—where some or any of her family members might be present—compared to the other ones she has shown you so far.

“You know what? This one actually looks quite nice,” you say to her, acknowledging her taste in style and suddenly believing that you might actually look good in something that seems quite daring.

Your comment seems to please her as her face instantly brightens. And for some reason, it makes you just as happy to see her getting excited for you. This new feeling is quite—odd. Not more than an hour ago, the air of awkwardness that was present had made it hard for you to start a conversation with her without Momo’s help. You cannot deny that the underlying doubt that you felt about her relationship with Christian had made you feel inferior while being around her. Added with the way she looks and dresses and how she wears her confidence so openly, something that is quite the opposite if compared to you.

But that feeling is no longer present now when you have finally gotten to know her a bit better, and once you got to see her bubbly personality that seems to fit your and Momo’s energy perfectly.

Once that bridge has been crossed, you begin to see and understand why she is able to get along with Christian and his friend group. The more you spend time with her, the more you are able to see how kind and friendly Em really is. And that despite her pristine appearance, she could be quite—clumsy.

Much like you are.

Perhaps knowing that you aren’t completely different from one another has been the reason why you are beginning to feel comfortable hanging out with her without anyone else’s helping you.

“Great! I knew you’d like it. The set comes with a cover-up too,” she says, plucking the thin piece of coverup from the rack that appears to be a part of the set for you to try on. “Here, try them all on together and see if it’s something you’d like. Oh, and try the black one too,” she insists, quickly snatching the similar set in black before handing them to you along with the coffee one. She looks at the sets you are now holding and sighs dramatically. “I still think the previous one was hotter, though.”

“Oh, no,” you quickly say to her, shaking your head when you recall the one she mentioned. “The black one you picked for me was not a bikini top, those were nipple patches.”

Your comment makes her laugh. “Yeah, I admit, those were more daring than the rest. But I have a couple of them at home and they’re really comfortable. And I bet you’d look really good in them.”

You almost grimace as you try to picture yourself wearing those tiny things, though you hide it the best you could, knowing that Em has rocked those types of bikinis perfectly and is evidently loving them to bits. You know this because she has shown you a few photos of her wearing them from her social media, and you have to admit, she does look good wearing all the daring pieces you saw that you almost feel envious of her confidence.

Em leaves you be as you make your way to the fitting room at the back of the store, only to suddenly return before you can get there so she can slip a couple of new items into your arms to add to the pile that you are about to try on.

“Here, try on these too while you’re at it. Can’t hurt to know how they would look on you, can it?” she says, while you only roll your eyes and laugh at her.

“Fine, if it makes you happy.”

Sliding into one of the vacant booths, you finally get to take a look at what you have gotten with you so far. Aside from the two complete sets that Em got you earlier, you also find the black top which you classified as nipple patches among the pile. This one is adorned with gold chains tying the top up to hang around your neck, making it look a bit more classy compared to the ones that Em initially found when she first started helping you.

Shaking your head and chuckling at Em’s sneaky antics, you put the tiny thing away to have a look at the others. Other than a new pair that looks similar to the black and coffee sets that you liked earlier, you find another bikini set which Em managed to slip in. This one looks just as revealing as the other ones, if not just a bit more, with a brighter colour that makes them pop in your eyes. You hold up the red halter bikini top which comes together with a thong-like bottom that leaves almost nothing to the imagination. Although, there is a sheer long skirt that comes with the pair, what seems to be a coverup that looks to be sufficient enough to cover the bottom half if you need it.

Surprisingly, you find yourself liking this piece as well. Just when you are pressing the pieces against your body just to imagine how it would look on you, you hear a knock at the door before Momo speaks to you from the other side.

“Em told me that you’re in here. So, have you finally found something you like?” she teases, while you can only shake your head and laugh.

You look down at your stash with a sigh. “Will you be patient? Perfection takes time.”

A scoff is heard from your best friend, and you can almost imagine her rolling her eyes at you. “Or you’re just being too picky. Hurry up and try them on, then come out here so we can see it. Em already approved the ones I picked.”

You smile at your reflection in the mirror when you recall Momo slipping into a fitting booth with an arm full of bright-coloured bikini sets. “Why should I show you mine if I didn’t get to see what you’re buying?”

“You’ll get to see them later when we’re paying for them. I only want to see yours to make sure you’ll look hot in my jacuzzi,” she says, making you laugh.

“Okay, let me try these on. Now leave me alone.”

You hear nothing from Momo other than a simple, “Okay,” and you start choosing the ones you want to see yourself in. Surprisingly drawn towards the red bikini set, you immediately pick that one to try first. While you can never possibly imagine yourself wearing it this weekend, you want to see if it would be something that you could wear sometime in the future.

The thin fabric feels like silk on your skin, but they are surprisingly comfortable. You are originally not one to wear something this revealing, always have been choosing the modest ones whenever you could, yet you can definitely see yourself in this set even if it may not happen for a while.

“Which one are you trying on now?” you hear Momo asking, and you absentmindedly answer her while admiring your own reflection, turning left and right to see yourself from every angle, making sure that the piece actually works for you before you can buy it.

“It’s the red one that Em found for me.”

“Really?” you can hear Em squealing from outside, excited to hear that you are trying out the piece that she seems to like. It makes you stop to hear her voice, realising that she is also out there, crowding the front of your booth with Momo.

“Seriously? Are you guys actually standing out there together waiting for me to show these?”

“We just want to see them,” Momo whines, while Em chimes in curiously,

“So? How do they look? Do you like them? Don’t they look gorgeous?”

They actually do look gorgeous, and it makes you look more appealing while wearing them. You feel the sudden urge and excitement to show them, especially Em, just to make her happy to see you trying this on. Yet, thinking about stepping out of the booth right this minute makes you feel a bit insecure.

“Um—do I have to step out and show you guys? They’re really—well, I feel exposed,” you hesitantly admit, feeling every bit self-conscious about stepping out of this booth.

It is one thing to wear this on a beach or while you are lounging in a fancy jacuzzi. It is another thing to be flaunting it around while being in the middle of a mall. With strangers around you to see. Momo seems to get this when you hear her snickering from the other side of the door.

“Then take pictures of them and send them to me so we can have a look.”

“Ooh, good idea!” Taking out your phone, you start taking pictures of yourself. Posing right in front of the mirror, you find the best angles that would be able to show the set that you are wearing, before covering your bottom half with the sheer skirt and taking photos of yourself wearing the complete set as well. “Hang on, let me try out the others before sending them to you.”

You barely hear Momo’s response as you quickly change out of the first bikini set, then repeat everything again as you try out the other two which you liked earlier—the coffee and black ones that you would feel more confident to wear. Feeling cold, you rush to quickly send all the pictures, adding a short comment for the coffee-coloured one in the message, ‘I’m getting this one for the weekend.’

Once you are done, you place your phone aside and change back into your clothes as you wait for Momo’s reaction to the pictures you sent. When you hear nothing from them, you simply figure that they might be still looking through the photos and think nothing of it and focus on sorting out the pieces you tried on before taking them with you.

But then Momo calls out to you from outside, getting you confused when she asks, “What’s taking you so long? Did you take the pictures yet?”

You stop in the middle of tidying yourself up. “What do you mean? I sent them all to you already.”

“Really? I’m getting nothing on my phone though.”

Wondering what the hell went wrong, you pick up the phone to see what happened with the messages you sent her. Only to have your stomach dropping once you open your message app, finally realising what you have done. Because you already did send out the messages and the pictures, except that you had not been messaging Momo the entire time.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” you curse at yourself when you see Christian’s name and his profile picture on top of the message thread. Panicking, you quickly begin deleting all the photos, even though deep down, you know that it would be no use. Minutes have gone by since they were sent out, and while Christian would often take a while to check on his phone whenever he is busy, you can already see that he had seen the pictures already, even if it had only been mere seconds before you started deleting them.

A sharp gasp and a desperate cry leave your lips as you drop down to the floor, feeling like your legs are giving up on you, drawing Momo’s concern when she can hear everything from outside.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

Covering your face with your palms, you groan defeatedly before answering, “Nothing’s wrong. Just give me a minute.”

With a deep breath, you pick up your cell phone again to call Christian, who answers the call within the first ring, confirming your suspicions that he has been holding his phone the entire time to witness your shenanigans. The photos showing off the outfits you were trying on wouldn’t be such a big deal if you hadn’t been showing that much skin, or the funny and sultry poses you did to show off the sets which were originally meant for your best friend, or the fact that you have not even been dating this man for more than a day for you to be showing him—all of these things together.

“Did you open the text message? Please tell me you didn’t get it,” you immediately question him even before he could finish saying hello.

“Mhhmm—” is the only response he is giving you.

“That wasn’t supposed to be for you,” you continue blabbering, hoping for any slight chance that he might have not seen them and you had been quick enough to delete them before he could. “I’m so sorry. I was too shy to come out and show them to Momo when she asked to take a look so I took the photos for her instead.”

“Mhhmm—”

“What does that mean? Oh my God, you’ve seen them,” you worriedly question his lack of response and groan deeply when you realise what had happened. Though knowing that he had no doubt seen the photos only makes you grow more concerned about other things. “Oh no, you’re still working, aren’t you? Did anyone else see it? Is someone there with you?”

Christian chuckles softly on the phone. “Yes, I’m still at work. Don’t worry, Dabin had just stepped out of the room when I opened your text.”

“Okay—” you softly answer, though your voice fades to a muffled groan as you sit back against the booth and hug your folded legs as if it can help you hide from the world, which is clearly not missed by Christian.

“What’s wrong? You sound funny.”

Sighing, you refuse to raise your head as you answer, “Nothing. Just trying to figure out how to bury myself so I would stop feeling embarrassed.”

While you are busy covering your burning face, you can almost hear the smile on his face when Christian speaks again, “I guess I have to get used to this, huh?”

“To what? What do you mean?”

Chuckling softly, he answers you with a teasing voice, “Getting stray messages coming in when least expected. I don’t mind it, though.”

Burying your face deeper into your folded knees, you let out another groan. “Please stop. God, I wish I was at least drunk.” Thinking of how often this has happened between the two of you, you can only sigh to yourself. How could you have forgotten that you have been messaging constantly with Christian while you were out the whole day? “Fucking stupid. I should’ve paid more attention.”

Your comment makes him laugh, though he quickly tries to console you by saying, “Hey, it’s fine. The messages are gone on my part too. I was just about to ask you about them when you finally noticed and they started disappearing.”

“Thank God I was quick enough, though,” you say with a sigh. “I’m sorry again. Please forget that this happened.”

You hear him chuckling softly on the phone. “Forget? Hah—Now, that would be a bit hard to do,” he teases, making you smile. It is quite funny how easily he makes you feel calmer, when you were so close to crying over your own stupidity merely moments ago.

“Ian, please.”

“I’m just teasing you, baby. Don’t worry about it, okay? Besides, no one else had seen them and they’re no longer on my phone. Although, I wish I had saved them—”

Your cheeks have been growing warm with how gentle he is when speaking to you and calling you with this new endearment that he has chosen for you, but that quickly changes with his teasing that you roll your eyes. “Really?”

He laughs. “I’m joking, baby. I wouldn’t do that to you. Besides, I can always keep them in my memory—” he says, while humming softly as if he is closing his eyes to recall the photos again, “—or wait for a chance to have you showing them yourself for a private preview.”

“Hah, we’ll see about that, Mister,” you scoff at him, making him laugh. But as you find yourself feeling better and feeling less like an utter idiot, you cannot help but whisper to him, “Thank you, Ian.”

“Anytime. Now go on and continue shopping with your friend. Don’t mind me while I’m here trying to work and not think about those photos. I’m going to be dealing with a ton of stuff here anyway, so I probably won’t remember any of them by the end of the day,” he says, drawing a smile to your face. You feel grateful for the way he is able to help you qualm your trepidation and dread simply with his gentle voice and comforting words.

Yet, in a typical fashion of his, Christian reminds you of his mischievous ways as he teases you for the last time before ending the call, “Hey, babe? I think I liked the red one the best on you.”

Past the entire shenanigans happening during your shopping spree, followed by the busy week where you had to go through classes and assignments while Christian was keeping up with work, the weekend finally comes.

There was nobody home when you arrived at Momo’s house in the morning, as her family members were mostly out for the weekend, so you and Momo got to enjoy the entire house to yourselves and hang out in the new jacuzzi for as long as you like. While lounging in the hot water during the afternoon, the two of you talk about the day you spent at the mall. You share with her your apprehensions about Em and how your feelings changed after spending time with her and getting to see what kind of person Em truly was. Then Momo shares her curiosity about the secret crush that Em harbours and who it might have been directed to.

“Could it be Dabin?” she curiously asks you after chugging down her cold beer, while you shake your head.

“Not sure. She only said that it was one of Ian’s music producer friends, and Dabin has a lot of projects coming up with Ian so I don’t think it would make sense for him to leave,” you tell her, to which Momo groans softly.

“Yeah, that would be hard to figure out then cause we know Christian has a ton of friends, and I doubt you’ve met every single one of them already.”

Hearing this makes you smile. “You’re right, he does have a lot of friends and connections.”

“Speaking of Ian,” she suddenly says, turning to you with a sly grin on her face. “Are you excited about tonight?”

Your eyes grow wide, and you immediately feel your nerves spiking when you are reminded about what is happening tonight. After having only met Christian in person twice the entire week and only during classes, with both of you being so busy with your daily schedules, he finally called to propose taking you out on a date once he is done with his project this week. Once you found out that Momo has another plan tonight after hanging out with you, both you and Christian agreed to set the date for tonight, once he is done with the day and after Momo drops you back at your place when she leaves at sunset.

“I’m more nervous than excited, to be honest,” you admit to her, while Momo waves her hand at you.

“It’s fine. Everything’s going to be just fine,” she says, consoling you in her own way. “You’ve gone out with him before, so it’s going to be nothing different than those times, right?”

You ponder about it for a moment, and it only makes you frown just to think about seeing him tonight.

Because, no, absolutely not. It wouldn’t be anything like the times you shared with him previously.

Because this time, it would be a date. A real date. Not just a simple meet-up at the coffee place like the times you had to meet him after class to discuss about the class assignments, or when you came with him to the work party, or the night you joined him and his friends for drinks. This is different. It would be just the two of you—no friends, no assignments, no other people around that he has to meet up with as he is handling his business. It would be just you and Christian doing whatever it is that he has planned for you.

“I don’t think there’s anything for you to worry about, though. The guy likes you, and you like him too. I’m sure things will be great. Just like how it’s always been. Both of you are similar in a way, so I’m sure he’ll make it comfortable for you instead of making things awkward for a first date.”

You rest your back against the side of the jacuzzi, with the hot water bubbling against your sides, massaging your toned muscles and rubbing away the tension you have in your body. You relish the pleasure you are getting while taking in what Momo is saying. She wasn’t completely wrong. Things with Christian have been flowing so easily. You have always been so comfortable when you are near him, while he seems to have always been able to sense your mood, always keeping up with your pace instead of going about things in a more rushed and lavish way.

Perhaps the only thing that makes you worried is the fact that things have also been proceeding the way you had never once thought they would. How everything that is happening now feels like a dream, and there is a deep fear haunting you that once you are with him, once everything between the two of you changes to a new direction, you would be forced to wake up and face reality, to see that nothing is as beautiful as what your mind keeps telling you to see.

Just like what happened back then with—

Shaking away your worries, you tell yourself that things are different now. Things have to be different. Because you have no idea how you would be able to deal with it if things turn the other way around once again.

“You know what? Maybe you’re right. I’m worrying too much,” you finally say to Momo, making her smile with relief, not realising that you have also been consoling yourself by saying this.

“Good. That’s the spirit. Just enjoy everything and have fun with him. I’ll help you get ready if you want to and we’ll make sure you’ll be knocking him off of his feet once he sees you tonight.”

Closing your eyes, you try to relax and give in to the comforting warmth around you, trying not to overthink and let your agitation takes over when you are supposed to be having a good time. Both now, as you are lounging in this fancy jacuzzi without having to spend a single penny, and later, when you are about to see the man who has always managed to cause your heartbeat to race wildly in your chest.

You remain in the hot tub only for a while later, stepping out just as both of you start feeling more relaxed and you are ready to continue the lazy afternoon pampering each other and relaxing on her cozy pool-house. It isn’t until sunset when you are finally ready to leave, with Momo dropping you off before she heads out to where she needs to be.

“Remember—” she says, once you stepped out of her car, “Don’t be so nervous and relax, enjoy your night with him. You won’t be able to have a good time if you’re worrying too much.”

“I know. Thanks, babe,” you answer her gratefully, somehow finding yourself believing in your own words this time.

“Anytime,” she says, before quickly adding, “Oh, and wear something sexy!”

“Goodbye, Momo,” is all you say to her as you shut the car door close, and you soon watch her car rolling out of the parking lot, leaving you all on your own to get ready for your first night out with your new boyfriend.

[06.58 PM] From Christian: I’ll pick you up around eight. Will that be okay?

[07.03 PM] To Christian: I’ll be waiting ;)

[07.04 PM] From Christian: I can’t wait to see you :)

Just when you had thought you were ready for your fateful first date, the text that Christian sent you only makes you feel on the edge. Once again, you feel tense. The tension that you feel as you are reading his texts may not be as daunting as it was before, when your imagination kept running wild and your insecurities kept taking over with still many hours left before the date happens, yet it doesn’t mean that you are not nervous enough about tonight.

The thought of meeting up and being alone with him tonight seems nerve-racking. But just like how you managed to get over your worries earlier, you keep repeating the same comforting words in your head like a spell as you continue getting yourself ready to see him.

Everything is going to be okay.

You continue reminding yourself of this as time continues to pass. The clock is ticking, your heartbeat keeps racing, and your feet would not stop pacing each time you try to relax. You can barely able to get yourself together with nothing distracting your running thoughts, but by the time eight o’clock rolls around, you have gathered up enough composure to stop pacing around your living room and pulling at your dress as you wait for him to arrive. The long trails of discarded clothes that you left behind in your bedroom when you couldn’t decide what to wear would have to wait until you return home. Right now, all you can think of is how you are going to keep it together once he is here.

A knock comes at the door, and it makes your heart do funny things even before you get to see him in person. After giving yourself a brief pep talk while shaking your trembling hands to make them calm, you finally open the door. Your heart begins doing that funny thing again, skipping a beat and rushing at the sight of Christian standing right in front of the door, waiting for you, wearing his dashing smile on his face while being surrounded by an air of confidence that makes you look at him in awe.

Stunned speechless, you say nothing to him, giving him a chance to take the sight of you in. His eyes trail down on you with an appreciative look. Going from your face to your dress, and it makes your skin grow warm under his perusing gaze. Seeing that you are still unable to speak, a smile expands so subtly on his face as he greets you first, “Hey.”

“H-hey,” you stammer in response, which only makes his smile grow wider.

“You look great,” he says, making your cheeks burn even hotter.

“Thanks,” you chuckle softly. “You too.”

Christian laughs softly at this. “Are you ready? I have an Uber ride waiting for us downstairs. I hope you don’t mind. I figured if we were both going to have drinks afterwards—”

You look up to him as he speaks and feel an instant sense of relief. Because it suddenly becomes quite obvious to you that he might be just as nervous as you currently are when you notice him rushing as he speaks, and he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands when he keeps slipping them in and out of his pockets or running them through his immaculate hair.

“I’m set to go. Thanks for thinking ahead,” you quickly reassure him before he could continue with his rambling, and a visible look of relief appears on his face.

“After you,” he says as he steps aside to let you join him once you have your jacket and purse with you, locking the door behind you as you leave for the night.

It is a warm night, so the two of you decide to have the ride drop you off a block away from your destination so you can enjoy the short walk there, with the sight of the city’s main river accompanying your walk. As you walk side by side with him, his hand entwined gently with yours to keep you by his side and the conversation flowing slowly as you talk about your day, you find yourself steadily getting more and more comfortable. The tension that has been following you the whole day soon fades, while the familiar ease that you have often felt when you are with him starts coming back to you.

It doesn’t take long before you finally reach the restaurant that he had chosen for tonight’s date. Situated right at the end of the boardwalk that you have been walking on and not too far from the clear river is a quaint pizza place, partly hidden from the main road but still open to the view around the neighbourhood to allow you to enjoy the comfortable atmosphere around you. He finds a table for two outside, quite a distance away from the sidewalk that you can have your own space without having to worry about the passing crowd. A soft tune of music is playing from the restaurant, giving you a pleasant welcome as you both begin perusing the menu.

He makes a suggestion to order their signature dish, the cheese pizza, which you are completely fine with, while you choose the appetiser and one of their pasta plates to share between you two. As he hasn’t been drinking alcohol as often lately, Christian chooses a glass of their special draft beer to taste and a bottle of soda to go with his dinner, while you order a glass of cheap wine that costs nearly the same as his orders.

This is all happening so fluidly—how you talk about the menu without worry and choosing what the two of you would like to have and share—that it feels almost natural to do something like this. There is no hint of awkwardness existing between you, helping you to forget that you are on an actual date instead of casually hanging out with him, even if the feeling lasts just for a brief moment.

Your stomach has been in knots since you left home with him. While the short walk here and the conversation that was shared from then until this moment have helped a little to put you at ease, he would constantly bring back the tension either with his gestures or by being particularly flirty. Each time his fingers come brushing gently against your hand, sparks instantly start flying in the air around you. Your skin would tingle when you are talking to him and he leans closer to listen with rapt attention, and your chest would feel tight when his eyes are looking deeply into yours.

And then he reminds you the reason why you have always been so captivated with him and how you began to harbour a deep crush on him, as he shares with you about everything that he has been up to lately—of the long hours he spent filming with his crew and the long nights he spent working on post-production, and also about how he is slowly diving back into making his music again. It is the moment you look into his eyes when the flutter in your chest returns, when you get to see the clear sight of his love and passion for what he does, the look that is so captivating to see that you are once again lost for words.

The waiter returns to your table just then, setting down the drinks that Christian ordered before pouring the red wine into your glass. Once he is done, Christian leans forward to get closer.

“So—how about you? You said this week has been busy for you,” he inquires so suddenly, sounding genuinely curious to know what you have been up to this week while he has been busy with his own thing and you haven’t seen each other after attending his last class.

“Oh, just the usual,” you answer with a shrug. You tell him everything about the classes you went to this week and all the mundane things you would usually do during the day. But then as you begin sharing with him about your assignments, and the exciting things you do during your part-time job in the night, your excitement grows. He should be able to notice it from the tone of your voice, or the way you keep twirling the wine glass in your hand as you speak. Either way, there seems to be no way Christian would miss the way you are enjoying these things, as he keeps his eyes on you the entire time, looking deeply at you as he listens, taking in everything you are sharing with him.

“Speaking of your work—” you hum, suddenly recalling the day you joined him during filming. “I kind of missed being in that environment, to be able to see you work and see how you handle things in the set. Your crew seems so fun to work with too.”

Hearing this makes him smile. “You’re right. I’m lucky to be working with a group of talented people. Working with them has been fun,” he says, before he suddenly tilts his head and you see him getting curious about something.

“You know, I’ve been wondering—” he starts as he leans closer over the table to gently ask you, “How did you get here?”

You raise your eyebrows. “You…picked me up. At home,” you answer him, feigning innocence, even if you have quite an inkling of what he is trying to ask.

“I’m not talking about being here,” he chuckles softly. “How did you end up studying film production? Have you always been so interested in making videos and movies?”

You bite your lips. Not feeling sure how to answer him at first. “It’s quite a long story,” you finally tell him. “And a part of it might be a bit embarrassing to share.”

Christian gives you a reassuring smile. “I got time. And I won’t laugh, I promise.”

Sipping your wine slowly, you try to decide where to begin. Once you gather enough courage, you finally admit to him softly, “Actually, I could probably say that I got interested to dive deeper into this because of you.”

Christian’s eyes grow wide in shock, obviously not prepared enough to hear this. “What—?”

Chuckling softly, you begin to tell him everything. “When I started college, I knew I was either going to study art or film, but I have to admit that I had no direction to know where to go. I’ve always loved movies and old films, and I loved the artistry behind creating music videos. I’ve also been drawn to documentary videos for a long time, but I never knew if I would be able to take up the challenge to dive into that world. And then I remember stumbling upon your videos during that time—” you stop briefly as you recall finding his raw videos before his crew grew into what is known today, but it was seeing him sharing those raw videos and making the process behind them seem like such a fun thing to do that got you so drawn into the entire process and finally getting to love it as well.

“I tried to see if I would like it, so I started by learning and doing photography while saving up to buy my own camera set. Then you started sharing your travel videos and your post-production process online, and it got me interested in learning more about photography and film. And I was right about it being so much fun. I found the kind of challenge I was looking for in film major.” You stop for a brief moment and cannot help but smile as you recall those days when you finally had your mind set on it. “Let me just say that switching from art major to film production was the best decision I’ve ever made in life.”

You turn to smile at him just then, realising that you finally get the chance to do the one thing that you have always wanted to do. That you finally get to do what you had always imagined you would be once you meet him in person. “Thank you for inspiring me, by the way,” you say to him with a grateful smile, before adding playfully, “And if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t end up taking the post-production course to finally meet you in person.”

Christian has been in such awe as he listens to your story that he seems to be lost for words. You feel worried that you might have been oversharing with him and that you are making him uncomfortable with your confession. A part of you is relieved that you get to say all of this instead of keeping them to yourself, but another part of you is afraid that he might feel burdened by the admiration you have for him, and you are worried that it might only push him away.

But seeing him getting flustered makes you feel intrigued, curious to know how he feels about what you had just said to him. Clearing his throat, he rubs a palm over his lips to cover his bashful smile, though you can still see the crimson shade materialising on his skin.

“You’re flattering me too much that I have no idea what to say,” he says with a nervous chuckle. Noticing your silence as you are waiting for his response, and perhaps noticing how shy and tense you seem to be feeling, Christian scoots his chair closer until he is within inches of you and reaches for your hand, once again igniting the sparks between you as he takes your smaller hands between his larger ones.

“But I’m glad that finding my videos was what led you to me,” he gently says as he rubs his fingers against yours. “Or else, we probably wouldn’t be sitting together like this tonight, and I wouldn’t get to know your amazing personality and talent.”

This time, you are the one who is flustering in the middle of what was supposed to be an innocent conversation. With his hand on yours, his deep eyes looking intently into yours, and his presence being so close, you are not only feeling sparks rising between you, but also heat simmering in the air that you start feeling a different kind of tension. The kind that gets your chest filled with delicate flutters and your body growing warm.

The food arrives, granting a short moment of reprieve from the rolling tension as he finally leans away and the two of you soon dive into the beautiful meal while the conversation between you lightens.

“So,” he says while eyeing you expectantly as he slowly devours his food. “Tell me more about your, um—little adventure at the mall.”

You immediately laugh at this. “There is nothing more to share. If any, I think I may have already overshared with you by accidentally sending you those photos.”

Christian softly chuckles, and he glances at you with a sly look dancing in his gaze. “I have no regrets of it happening,” he says, while you can only shake your head.

“I’m sure you don’t,” you taunt him in return.

Despite playing along, he probably suspects that you are still feeling uncomfortable about the mishap that happened that day. He reaches across the table to once again cover your hands with his. “Don’t worry, nobody else saw those photos, I promise. And you deleted them from both devices already so you won’t be able to find those photos anywhere on my phone, I’m sure,” he says, reassuring you. Though it is hard to feel immediately relieved when you see the playful grin growing on his face soon after. “Lucky for me, I have quite a good memory, so I won’t have to look for them again to remember everything. Like the coffee-coloured one that you said you were buy—ow! I’m kidding!”

Rubbing his upper arm which had just become the victim of your reflexed slapping, Christian laughs, pleased to see your reaction. You tease each other a while longer while you continue enjoying your meal, with his hand occasionally reaching out to you at every chance he gets, from brushing against yours to entwining his fingers between yours whenever he likes it.

When casting your gaze down on your joined hands, your heartbeat would start racing rapidly. Everything still feels like a dream that you want to pinch your skin so badly to see if you would wake up from this, yet you can still feel his warmth through your entwined fingers, letting you know that this moment is real.

Then you would look up to see his face, to see his smile from up close and listen to his voice as he chats with you, and you realise that he is real.

Instead of allowing your nerves to take over and have yourself be intimidated by his presence, you choose to savour this moment. Because the more you open yourself to him, and the longer you are together with this man, you finally realise that the infatuation that you feel growing between you isn’t simply a figment of your imagination. That it is truly there, and it is just as real as the two of you, present and blooming steadily even without any of you realising it.

Once dinner is done, Christian takes you to another walk just to have more time with you. This time, he chooses to make a stop at the small dessert spot not too far from your place and start from there.

You can feel his eyes on you while you are slowly licking at your ice cream, savouring the taste and this serene moment you have together as you walk on the side of the street, with nobody paying attention to any of you.

“Have you been enjoying the night so far?” Christian suddenly asks you once you arrive at your place and he is now walking you to your door.

“Do you hear me complaining?” you question him, drawing a smile to his face. “I had fun. I think it was the most fun I’ve had in a while, to be honest.”

Chuckling softly, Christian nods his head. “Same with me. I always love being with you,” he admits slowly. “You always make me feel—” he sighs, as if having trouble finding the right words to say. “Comfortable with myself, if I have to describe it with words, and that’s not even half of it.”

Soon enough, you are standing right in front of your door, with your hands entwined and he is not showing any sign of letting you go. Deep down, you also feel like you are not ready to part ways with him. Your chest feels heavy as you are not ready for the night to end this soon.

So you turn to him, smiling as you nervously ask him, “Do you want to come in?”

His smile grows, and there is something showing in his gaze that looks quite unfamiliar to you when he says, “I would love to.”

He follows you as you walk into your warm home, still with your hands interlaced with one another. The moment the door is closed right behind him, Christian reaches out to you and pulls you to him, before he finally does the one thing he seems to have wanted to do all night long, as he soon leans down, capturing your lips in his to a deep, long kiss that takes your breath away.

And the heat that has been simmering between you the entire night erupts into flame.

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finnlongman · 2 months ago

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If one were to want to read the Irish myths in the original language, would it be better to learn old or middle irish? how much difference is there between them? a lot of resources/books I've found focus on Old Irish, or at least that's what the titles say. But when I've looked at the original texts for a lot of the tales, i cant actually tell if what I'm looking at is old or middle irish.

Neither, do Early Modern Irish and join me in hell, lmao.

Realistically due to manuscript survival, the majority of longer narrative texts are in Middle Irish or later, so if your interest is "reading stories", that's what you're going to end up dealing with. Very, very few people would just sit down and read a medieval Irish text the way you might read a passage of modern Irish, though this is partly because many of them are in dreadful editions that require a lot of work just to use, and in turn this is often because of illegible or damaged manuscripts. A more realistic goal would probably be trying to get to the point of being able to translate medieval texts, or to compare other translations with the original.

But most learning resources for medieval Irish are Old Irish. That ... doesn't really matter? Like, you start with Old Irish because it's the most complex grammar that's the most different to, e.g. Modern Irish. And then you just sorta relax your grammar and lose your infixed pronouns and gain independent pronouns etc and you wind up with Middle Irish without having to learn a separate thing. We had exams on trying to tell the difference when I was doing my MA and it can be Challenging, especially since there's a lot less definitively Old Irish than people originally thought, and because things are often preserved in later manuscripts with updated spellings.

Plus, many of those horrible editions that I mentioned were done by editors who decided to reconstruct the spelling according to what they thought it should be, or standardised all the verbs, or otherwise emended the text in such a way that a lot of its definitive dating features are now invisible. So if you're looking at an edited text, it can be incredibly challenging to gauge the language and thus the likely date.

Anyway, the textbooks like to show you nice proper grammatically correct Old Irish with all its infixed pronouns squarely in place and behaving themselves, and then no text you look at will ever look like that, at all. It's great fun. There just aren't textbooks and resources for learning Middle Irish specifically (probably because anyone working on Middle Irish is going at some point to need to deal with Old Irish features, and also because of the field's historical trend towards focusing only on the oldest versions of things they could find). But you will find resources for Old Irish that incorporate texts with Middle Irish features.

You can also go the other way, which is to learn Modern Irish, which is much easier due to the wider availability of resources and teachers, and then just kinda work backwards. I did not do this so I cannot advise on the best approach there. I will say that I am finding my modern Irish more useful for most of the Early Modern stuff I do than my Old Irish, but that is also because I have substantially more modern Irish than I have Old Irish at this point, and the Old Irish at least aids me in guessing how to approach particularly heinous verbs.

(It is miles easier to eyeball an untranslated 15th century text and have a vague sense of what it means than it would be to do the same with a tenth century text, especially with how rusty I am on Middle Irish at this point. So if I am posting excerpts of a text and noting that I'm just doing the translation on the fly it is going to be an early modern text 99% of the time.)

Rough dates, fyi: 600-900 Old Irish, 900-1200 Middle Irish, 1200- Early Modern Irish. Realistically you have Middle Irish texts being written in the fourteenth, fifteenth centuries and of course things also get copied into later manuscripts and preserve older language, so these are only very broad approximations. TBC 1's earliest MS is ~1106, the Book of Leinster is ~1160, so firmly towards the end of the Middle Irish period, but they still have bits of Old Irish in there, esp. R1. Stowe is 15th century in a 17th century manuscript with modernised spelling but often it's Middle Irish in grammar. It's a whole mess. Good luck lol

[Apologies that this is not the most coherent or detailed answer I've ever written. I am very tired right now]

#medieval irish #i am emphatically not a linguist and cry if i have to do textual dating based on linguistic features btw #it's the worst i'm terrible at it #answered #anarcho-sgathach

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daresplaining · 5 months ago

Text

Glori: "...Of course you can't control the bleeding-- as you say. Whatever in the world made you think you could?" Matt: "I could once, sort of... A teacher of mine, a man named Stick--he warned me. Said I was two things and I'd have to become one or the other or I'd end up being neither. Maybe that's what's happening." Glori: "Sure, an' what you are is talkin' nonsense." Daredevil vol. 1 #211 by Denny O'Neil, David Mazzucchelli, George Roussos, Danny Bulanadi, and Joe Rosen

Matt never ends up telling Glori that he's Daredevil, but here, having gone to her for medical aid after a villain beatdown, he offers up some vague, incomprehensible comments about Stick. Glori, understandably, assumes he's just delirious from shock.

#Daredevil vol. 1 #Daredevil #Matt Murdock #Glorianna O'Breen #ID in alt text

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call-me-copycat · 1 year ago

Note

Heyoo, I hope your having a great day/night!

Congratulations on 400 followers!! That's a great achievement right there 😁

I was wondering if I could join your writting event? If so, can I please ask for a "Pick a Prompt" for number 8, the characters being present mic and a f!reader? (as in "xreader")

It can be romantic, but can you please avoid any drinking/sexual themes?

If not, it can just be platonic!!

Wish you the best!

Hello! Thank you so much @bingewatchintilldawn for requesting for my writing event! I'm so glad you're here ଘ(੭ˊ꒳ˋ)੭✧

I'm so sorry for the delay, I do hope you enjoy! Sorry for any grammatical errors as well, it's a little late where I am right now, so I'm a little tired ‪(´•ᴗ• ก )‬՞ ՞

Request for my writing event!

Slot Chosen: Pick-A-Prompt 1

#8: "Why are you hiding behind me? What did you do?"

➜ CHARACTERS: Mic & Fem! Reader (Platonic - I'm sorry, I didn't know how to write this off as romantic)

➜ Word Count: 2230 [I got a little side-tracked with this one, I hope you don't mind (ㅎ.ㅎ ) ]

➜ WARNINGS: Mentions of food, I believe that's it

Students chattered amongst themselves as the day passed by, with conversations ranging from light-hearted compliments, to angered rants, to teasing taunts and the scoffs that would come from the receiving end. It was a relaxing day, one that you were grateful for since that usually meant that there wasn't much work for you to do.

Glancing at the small stack of papers that needed to be organized and stapled so the class can receive them the next day, you sighed before cracking your knuckles and getting right to work.

One might begin to think you were a teacher at UA, what with all that you do, but that wasn't exactly what you were. While you weren't a teacher, you were a teacher aid, tasked with helping and following the orders of whichever teacher called upon you for the day.

It seemed you were doing something new each day, whether that be helping out Snipe with rearranging his books for history class, or answering the students' questions when Eraserhead was sleeping, or even dashing throughout the halls to get a folder to Nezu. It's one of the many reasons why you enjoyed your job so much. Not only was it interesting, but the people were also quite amusing as well. Some more than others.

That was probably the reason behind why you were always offering to help assist Present Mic with his class, often enjoying the thrill of his funky attitude and excitable demeanor. Kind to everyone and ever so intriguing, you felt it was just a little easier to talk to him at times. He wasn't very judgemental (then again, neither were any of the teachers really), and could hold and start any conversation with anyone with ease if he so wished.

Oftentimes a couple of his students would stay behind in his class during lunch and eat there, enjoying the jokes and conversation their teacher brought. It was only a plus to it all that he never really required you to do much work for him. While it seemed he wouldn't be one to do much work or preparing, you couldn't help but notice how each morning a newly stacked pile of papers were always printed and stapled before everyone else had even started. Or how you never had to help grade any papers since they'd all be finished the same day they were turned in. It was one of the many things he never really spoke about but still quietly did in the background.

Thinking back to that fact, you smiled as you found yourself once again not needing to do much work, the stack of papers thin and simply needing to be stapled in groups.

"Sorry it's a bit much today! The printer wasn't workin' on me, so I'm a little behind today. Oh well! Ya live ya learn!"

Turning to the voice coming from the door to the classroom, you smiled as you saw Mic walking through, work bag and a folder in one hand and a water bottle in the other as he fumbled with the door. After getting up and helping hold the door open, you smiled at the "a-thank-you" that you were given as he walked by.

"It's not much really, did you need anything else done today? Or is that it?"

He placed his work items down as he waved his hand at you, "No, no! That's all for today! No need to overwork yourself, I'm no Eraser!", he laughed, enjoying his jab to his good friend while you shuddered. Aizawa was much more strict, and wasn't always keen on having a new face around. While he did have his moments of leniency, they were often overshadowed by the stacks of paper given to grade, or the number of times you had to run down the halls to fulfill the errands he had asked. No, he was indeed no Eraser.

The day ran smoothly, with schoolwork being handed out and students being taught. It was something you hoped you'd reach one day. Until then, being an assistant wasn't too bad.

Debates were common occurrences in his class, seeing as he taught English after all, and not only did they commonly happen, they were sometimes encouraged. 'It's good teaching material', he had told you as the students discussed the pros and cons of having heroes advertise products. There were times when they had to be shut down though, sometimes provoking the wrong kind of passion in the students. And when screaming matches occurred, there wasn't a single soul that challenged the Voice Hero.

UA was certainly a one-of-a-kind school. All the teachers there treated you as an equal despite your lower profession, and each had a unique spark to them. Midnight always loved having you around for her art classes, though there were times where you couldn't handle the risque attitude that she radiated. Vlad was much more professional in a sense, but that never meant be didn't enjoy a good conversation every now and then.

You learned that during breaks Snipe loved to play cards, and that Midnight loved to challenge anyone in anything. Lunch Rush appreciated having company whenever he was cleaning, and Recovery Girl loved to have someone to listen to her stories about her past work. It was a tight-knit community, and although everyone ran under the same set of rules, it couldn't feel more familiar.

The bell rang for lunch, signaling the day to be half-over. Resorting to mindlessly doodling on a piece of paper at the teacher's desk could only ever get you so far before it became redundant. You normally sat at Mic's desk since he rarely ever sat still, always up and walking around the class, or up and down the length of the chalkboard when the students were taking a test. Even then he wasn't completely silent, settling on whistling some jaunty tune he either made up or heard somewhere.

With the class being dismissed, all the students left for the cafeteria for the day, leaving you and Mic to eat your lunch in the teacher's lounge for the day. It was only when you entered that you remembered you had left your lunch at home.

Turning to Mic, who was whistling that same tune to himself once again as he flipped through his planner, you spoke up.

"Hey, I forgot my lunch today at home, do you mind if I run down to the cafeteria to pick something up real quick?"

This caused him to look up, but before he could say anything, a woman's voice cut him off.

"You can have my lunch, honey. I actually just came from the cafeteria so I don't need it."

Midnight walked the rest of the way in and held up a little tray that she had gotten for herself from Lunch Rush. "I couldn't resist, he made my favorite today so I had to go down. Take whatever's in the fridge, I should've left my bento in there from yesterday"

Nodding, you smiled and thanked her as you rummaged through the fridge, finding it empty except for a single bento box in a plastic bag. It didn't look homemade, but rather store bought as the box still had the price sticker on it.

"I'm gonna head off to the office, I need to work out some typos on an assignment before I print it out. You okay with staying here?" Mic questioned as he packed his things and headed to the door.

"I'll be fine, you can go if you need to" Was your answer as you ate your lunch, the bento being an oddly simple one that just consisted of three compartments; one for rice, one for beef, and one for pickled vegetables.

This was the best photo I could find, I hope it helps (=ﾟДﾟ=)

It wasn't something you were used to seeing Midnight eat, as she normally picked bentos that mainly consisted of vegetables, and her go to protein being fish. It was new, but you didn't question it.

Once lunch was finished, you checked the time to see you still had about 20 minutes left to yourself. Taking advantage of what time you had left, you decided to go give Mic a visit, tired of sitting alone in the lounge as Midnight had only come by earlier to grab a cup of coffee.

However, you nearly bumped into a figure that was entering the lounge at the same time you were exiting, the deep "Watch where you're heading" giving you a clue as to who it was before you even saw him.

Looking up and meeting eyes with Aizawa, you hastily apologized and went to leave, only for a single sentence to freeze you in place.

"Who ate my lunch?"

Aizawa was crouched in front of the communal fridge, frowning at the empty shelves before slowly turning to look at where you were frozen in the doorway with one foot out.

Hesitantly, you slid your eyes over to him. As soon as your eyes met you panicked and quickly scuttled out of the lounge, giving him the answer to his question and causing a chase to form.

Dashing throughout the empty halls, you immediately spotted Mic walking down in the opposite direction of where you were headed, casually chatting alongside Cementoss.

"Hey, [Name]! So nice of you to stop by- Whoa, whoa, whoa, why the rush?!" He questioned as you quickly made your way over to him, only to position yourself right behind him and attempt to use him as a human shield of sorts.

Just the same, his question was answered as an annoyed Eraserhead stomped his way to where the three of you were standing.

"I just want to talk to her-"

"It wasn't me!" You retaliated, trying to weasel yourself out of this mess.

"Okay, okay, why are you hiding behind me? What did you do?" Mic was beyond confused, having been forcefully tugged into the situation.

"She ate my lunch, that's what she did" Aizawa answered, an agitated tone to his voice. "The one day I actually bring some food to eat, and it's gone"

"N-no, I... "

Aizawa raised an eyebrow and silently waited for your answer, never one to raise his voice or cut someone off to argue. His belief was to just let the person try and fail to explain themselves, causing them to dig themselves into their own hole without him having to retaliate.

Mic then thought back to what Midnight had told you earlier, suddenly understanding what had occurred.

"Ah, man, it looks like ya caught me Shouta"

You, Cementoss, and Aizawa all turned to look at Mic with a confused expression, the situation growing even more complex at the sudden confession.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he continued, "I'll pay you back, promise, just don't go blaming her. Y'know, maybe you should've labeled your lunch in the first place, then we wouldn't be here, now would we?"

Aizawa scowled at his friend's cheeky tone, throwing his hands in the air. "You know what? I'm not going to stand here and argue about the food." Turning and beginning to walk away, he muttered just loud enough for you all to hear, "I'm going to take a nap, don't disturb me"

You watched Aizawa's retreating figure disappear down the hallway, possibly to his class, and turned to Mic. He spoke before you could get a word out, "Now that that's taken care of, let's get back to work, shall we?", right before bidding Cementoss a temporary goodbye.

Walking down the halls, you still had to ask him why he had taken the blame, especially knowing he'd be getting an earful as soon as school got out.

"Oh, none of that! No need to get so worried about me, I've been annoying everyone here since I first started working." He slipped one hand into his pocket as the other held a folder and a clipboard for his teacher-ly duties. "Did I ever tell you about the time I put plastic wrap across the door frame, only for Nemuri to walk right into it?" He laughed out loud as he spoke, clearly enjoying the memory that was brought back to him.

"Man, she was pissed! I had to hightail it out of there if I wanted to see the next morning sunrise! Y'know, I ought to ask her if she remembers that, cause I sure do! "

You chuckled alongside him, happy to have such a kind, yet intuitive coworker... No, friend. Yeah, it was nice to be surrounded by such charismatic people you could call your friends.

There was just one thing you needed to do.

Aizawa scowled as he walked through the halls towards the teacher lounge, hoping that at least no one stole his rice koji packets. Those were strictly his, at the very least.

Honestly, this was my best guess as to what it is that he eats ┐⁠(⁠‘⁠～⁠`⁠;⁠)⁠┌

Opening the fridge though, he was met with a surprise.

Inside was a plastic bag with his name on it, in handwriting that was clearly not his. Opening it revealed the same bento he had bought from the store, only this was a new one. Alongside it, was a note:

"Sorry for eating your lunch. I didn't know it was yours. Hope this repays for the mistake.

Till next time, [Name]"

Aizawa smiled.

He knew it was you the whole time.

Thank you again for requesting! I really appreciate you taking the time to do so! Please have a lovely day ( ⑉¯ ꇴ ¯⑉ )ﾂﾝﾂﾝ

*A little side note: I think writing for Present Mic is actually very fun. I love his character a lot! ʕ ◦`꒳´◦ʔ

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