#history watches the pens

[carpehistoryandthepens]

twins. sid has TWINS named for him?

<3

[the-armada-is-sailing]

FIVE ON 3? Why do you hate us? Free our ships from the blockade (box) !

[coffee-at-annies]

I feel I’m being weird making a big deal of black hockey history night as a white fan but like I dunno I don’t think we’re doing enough and like this is the bare minimum of reparations considering the thriving historically black community the building of the civic arena destroyed. Like idk with dei under attack from the government and the nhl being majority white and conservative, the bare minimum feels important

[crow-talks-hockey]

do you ever think about those that remain. do you ever think about how one of the best and most competitive athletes in pro sports, his best defenseman and close friend, and his other half and monster in his own know exactly what it is to win. three times actually. and do you think about the two that joined them and stayed. do you think about the seemingly fragile boy grew to play top line every night and be loved by his city. about the boy who goes forever underrated and under appreciated for the things he does. about the those five that stayed and that know. that know what it is to win. and now, must learn, again, to lose.

everyone else says they come here because pittsburgh is a winning city. that it's an honor to play with the big three, and that it becomes even more incredible to play with guentzel and rust too. but they don't know. how could they? they weren't here in those golden and black and white days. they weren't around to play with hornqvist, kessel, sheary, hagelin, cole, maatta, kunitz, daley, murray, dumolin, flower. they weren't around, really, truly, for those two cups in 2016 and 2017. they just don't know, and that's ok... but sid does. geno does. tanger, rusty, and guentz do. they remember. and that makes all this only hurt more.

it is the joy of winning that makes the losing so much more difficult. to know you have been there before, but that it may never happen again.

and do you ever think about those who never wanted to leave? that were torn away? do you think about flower, about dumolin, about all the others? do you ever long so badly for something you never experienced (what's up new pens fans <3 also older fans, im jealous of you but in a good way) that it hurts? do you have to remind yourself to just enjoy those big three and their "eldest daughters" while you can even when they lose but in reality you just don't want to because you just want to win. because it sucks losing and in some small way, you know how they feel out there on the ice each night. longing for something that might well be completely unachievable. do you think about that?

[cosmicrhetoric]

this is funnier than the montblanc collab imo. for the low low price of like 10 bucks you can get a sasuke themed eyeliner called "REVENGE"

[zenosanalytic]

#THE POINT OF IT#IS THAT THE BAR IS ON THE FUCKING GROUND#AND THINGS STILL CANT MANAGE THE LEAP#THE POINT OF IT IS IT SHOULD BE SO EASY!!!!!! (via @arrows-for-pens)

THIS is why we still need feminism. FUCKing Christ X| X| X|

you people will just. say anything

[scottishcommune]

Below the cut is a template email to send to Edinburgh Pride regarding sponsorship from Aegon, who have investments linked to the genocide in Palestine. Please feel free to use this text or edit it and make it your own and send it to contact@prideedinburgh.co.uk

Dear Edinburgh Pride,

As a queer person living in Edinburgh, I was deeply saddened to learn that the march partner for Edinburgh Pride 2024 is Aegon.

In December 2023 the ‘Don’t Buy Into Occupation Coalition’ published a report that showed Aegon have US$564million invested via shares and bonds in companies operating in illegal settlements in Occupied Palestinian Territories. Source: https://dontbuyintooccupation.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/2023_DBIO-III-Report_11-December-2023.pdf

We are watching a live-streamed genocide every day - over 36,000 people in Palestine have been murdered by Israeli forces, including at least 15,000 children. The brutality of these atrocities are unthinkable, with evidence of torture and targeting of hospitals, ambulances and refugee camps.

We all have a responsibility to do what we can to end this genocide. As queer people, we are part of a rich history of resisting oppression and dehumanisation - of both ourselves and those we stand in solidarity with. Pride started as a protest against homophobia, transphobia and police violence. It is an important moment to come together as a community to celebrate queer joy and resilience.

But how can we celebrate using profits stained with the blood of our siblings in Palestine?

Aegon has $564million invested in companies that have been listed by the UN as “raising human rights concerns” for their operations in illegal settlements in Occupied Palestinian Territories, In 1948, 750,000 Palestinian people were displaced from their homes and lands and since then, Israeli settlements have been used to spread this process of colonisation.

In addition to this figure, Aegon also has major investments in Eaton Corp Plc., who supply parts for helicopters and fighter jets to the Israeli military and have recently been the target of major protests at their factory in Dorset. They also invest in Amazon, who support the Israeli military with surveillance technology used against Palestians.

Israel has long used ‘pinkwashing’ as a tactic to justify the brutal repression of Palestinians, using queer people to legitimise this horrific violence. We refuse to allow this to be done in our name.

The tide is turning on companies like Aegon that profit from investments in the companies complicit in genocide. Recently, both Hay and Edinburgh Book Festival have dropped Baillie Gifford as a sponsor after over 800 authors called on them to divest from companies involved in Israel and the fossil fuel industry.

I ask that Edinburgh Pride:

Calls on Aegon to commit to divest from companies involved in supplying technology to Israel and operating in illegal settlements.

Drop Aegon as a sponsor until they are able to show evidence of divestment.

Publicly call for a ceasefire and a free Palestine.

There is no pride in genocide.

I look forward to hearing your response.

XX

Sources:

Investments in companies operating in illegal settlements https://dontbuyintooccupation.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/2023_DBIO-III-Report_11-December-2023.pdf

Investments in Eaton https://extranet.secure.aegon.co.uk/static/sxhub/pdf/client-pen-distribution.pdf

Investments in Amazon https://www.aegon.co.uk/content/dam/auk/assets/publication/fund-factsheet/standard_bkj9zs0.pdf

Israel’s pinkwashing: https://bdsmovement.net/pinkwashing

War on Gaza statistics: https://www.aljazeera.com/news/longform/2023/10/9/israel-hamas-war-in-maps-and-charts-live-tracker

Edinburgh book festival ends Baillie Gifford sponsorship: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cm553zrr3e4o

[anthropoetics]

love is stored in the pen & paper: poems

being boring, wendy cope

intifada incantation: poem #8 for b. b. L., june jordan

thursday, james longenback

history student falls in love with astrophysics student, keaton st. james

the demon, mikhail lermontov

four friends catch up over pasta, amy kay

sonnet 18: shall i compare thee to a summer's day, william shakespeare

litany in which certain things are crossed out, richard siken

the eyes of the poor, charles baudelaire

stop me if you've heard this one before, kaveh akbar

conversation with a rock, wisława szymborska

the joy of writing, wisława szymborska

can in an empty apartment, wisława szymborska

blind fish, yusuf komunyakaa

the crane, javier peñalosa m.

train to agra, vandana khanna

landscape with a blur of conquerors, richard siken

warming her pearls, carol ann duffy 

what resembles the grave but isn't, anne boyer

what the living do, marie howe

gretel, from a sudden clearing, marie howe

death with dignity, kaylee young-eun jeong

keeping quiet, robert bly

i go back to may 1937, sharon olds

the encounter, louise gluck

outhouse, rachel mckibbens

the end of poetry, ada limón

i felt a funeral, in my brain, emily dickinson

how to watch your brother die, michael lassell

boston, aaron smith

laura palmer graduates, amy woolard

upon learning that some korean war refugees used partially detonated napalm canisters as fuel, franny choi

monet refuses the operation, lisel mueller

flare, mary oliver

tomorrow is a place, sanna wani

shoulder, naomi shihab nye

snowdrops, louise glück

hammond b3 organ cistern, gabrielle calvocoressi

the night dances, sylvia plath

makeout sonnet, douglas f. brown

you mean you don't weep at the nail salon, elizabeth acevedo

when i'm asked by lisel mueller

every single day (after raymond carver's hummingbird), john straley

for julia, in the deep water, john morris

the same city, terrance hayes

in blackwater woods, mary oliver

the bridge, c. dale young

mittelbergheim, czesław miłosz

gift, czesław miłosz

late ripeness, czesław miłosz

[burntcheerio]

i have 11 missing assignments and i don't get home until like 7pm today 🤩 luckily my sleep schedule is fucked and ill just stay up doing/submitting it all tonight

[captain-huggy-bear]

The Teacher's Always Right

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Your students badger you about your relationship status and you let slip you're dating a hockey player who plays for the Vancouver Canucks. They don't believe you, you're petty enough to arrange a school trip to Rogers Arena just to prove your point.

Notes: Very self-indulgent of me as someone who teaches teenagers for a living and regularly gets questioned on my relationship status. They really do bully you (affectionately).

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You're in the middle of teaching your high schoolers about the fur trade in colonial Canada, mid-speech, arms spread wide as you gesture to your powerpoint when a teenage voice interrupts you.

"Miss, are you married?" It's David, sat at the back, legs stretched out as far as he can reach them. He's ironically enough wearing a Canucks jersey, specifically Number 43...a very, very familiar number to you. As is the question. In your years of teaching this isn't the first time you've been interrupted to be questioned on your relationship status, in fact it happens multiple times a year. Each set of students eager to know why you're a miss and if you'll be a mrs soon and are going to be leaving them to have a baby. When you were single, the questions were usually why?

"No." You've gotten rather good at deflecting or at least not letting slip the reality of your relationship, usually finding out you're not single is enough for them, but there's something about David's attitude that screams persistant curiosity. It makes you wonder why you bother teaching your subject at all when he's more curious about your love life than History itself

"Do you have boyfriend?"

"Yes, does this have anything to do with British colonisation or the fur trade or....?" You lean back on your desk, board pen landing gently on the surface, knowing that you're not going to be free of this conversation for at least another 2 minutes.

"What's your boyfriend do?" You breathe a deep sigh and look around the room, you don't want to get into who your boyfriend is. It's not like its a well known fact that you're dating the captain of the Vancouver Canucks and you try to keep it that way. Not because you're ashamed but because its your private life, school and home, those are as separate as you can make them. It would be impossible to do that if everyone was talking about your relationship, although you know eventually it'll become more public.

Stacy from one of the desk by the windows chimes in this time, curiosity peaked, dragging her away from her current hobby of staring out the window in boredom, "C'mon, miss, it can't be that bad? What? Is he like unemployed or something?" She says while chewing loudly on a wad of gum.

"Gum in the bin, Stacy." Her chewing stops and she slumps as she stomps her way to your classroom bin, spitting the gum in with a roll of her eyes.

"So? Is he unemployed?" You decide to answer the question, only because Stacy actually did what you said this time. You hated gum in the classroom, mostly because it always ended up on the bottom of your shoes and made them stick to the floor as you walked. You wouldn't mind it so much if they could all just throw it away normally.

"No. He's got a job, a good job." A really good job, a ridiculously good job actually. You didn't talk money with Quinn much, but the reality was that he made an amount in a year that you would never make in a life time as a teacher.

"Sooo???" David interjects, leaning forward now in his seat, clearly not happy enough to just know your boyfriend isn't some unemployed bum.

"He's a hockey player."

"Like beer league?"

"No. Like NHL." You watch your classes faces in what feels like slow motion, the series of disbelieving looks, wide eyes and raised eyebrows that are quickly followed by a chorus of objections and claims that you can't be telling the truth.

"Nah, no way! You're not here, teaching us, and dating a guy who makes millions, nah." It's actually frustrating, it shouldn't be. You've literally had students throw tables at you and yet, the idea that they think you are a liar is what makes you frustrated. Is it really that hard to believe that you enjoy your job and don't want to scrounge off of your pro-athlete boyfriend? Or that hard to believe that you managed to snag a pro-athlete in the first place?

"You don't believe me?"

"Nah, like if you are, he's gotta be in some really bad team in the US." You're already formulating a plan to prove to your students that you're not lying and not dating a shit NHL player. Sure, the plan involves a lot more work for you, but the idea is in your head and you can't help but think that it'll be worth it.

"He's a Canuck." You smirk a little, knowing the mention of the local team would get a response. Most of the kids you teach go to at least one game a year or watch it on TV. Some have even seen you at the games, but you always sit in the stands like a regular fan. Mostly because Quinn can't really talk to you anyway when he's locked into a game. You'd serve as more of a distraction if you sat front and centre every game.

"No, no way!" David stands, slamming his hands on his desk, "You're lying!" Half the class echo his claims that you must be lying and it makes you even more determined to prove them wrong. Do you really need to prove to a bunch of teenagers that you're dating an NHL player? No, do you want to? Absolutely.

"Fine, don't believe me, but i'm not lying. I'm dating a Vancouver Canuck."

It takes a little to get them all back on track with the lesson but you manage it. Although you're just as distracted. The moment the bell goes to signal lunch break and your classroom empties, you're on your phone calling your boyfriend, even though you know he's probably in the middle of practice.

He answers on the second ring, the sound of the rink in the background loud and clear as pucks hit the sideboards and skates scratch up the ice.

"Hey, baby, everything okay?" It's unusual for you to call him in the work day and you can hear the worry in his voice, even if he'll pretend he's not worried at seeing your name pop up when you should be working.

"Hey, I'm fine, don't worry...but...you know how you love me?" You fiddle with a little wooden bear that sits on your desk. Quinn bought you it after finding out your favourite animals were any type of bear, it's left ear is broken off and it's got a little bit of red paint where it fell on a floor one time, but you love it anyway.

"Uh huh?" The worry in his voice gives out to amusement at realising you're after something. On his end Quinn is stood at the bench watching the guys run drills, Tocc giving him a look as if to say 'hurry up'.

"And you know how you want to always make me happy?" He smiles at the faux innocent voice you put on, as if he'd deny you anything.

"What do you need me to do, baby?" There's zero hesitation, typical Quinn really, if you want something you've got it, if you need him to do something he's agreeing before all the terms are laid out. He's lucky you don't abuse that sort of power really, he'd spoil you completely if you let him.

"I need you to help me organise a school trip to see you guys practice and meet you all, so that I can prove to my students that I am actually dating an NHL player because they're calling me a liar and I will not be called a liar by teenagers who gaslight me all the time!" The faux innocent voice gives way to your rapid ramble, annoyance riding your tone as you pace across the front of your classroom.

You're greeted firstly by his loud and genuine laugh, so loud that it makes you pull the phone away from your ear. It takes a solid minute for Quinn to stop laughing, and he can see the looks he's getting from the ice, Brock throws him a questioning eyebrow raise, Petey perks his head up at the sound of his captain actually laughing that hard.

It's the dead silence on your end that makes him stop, "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yes! They're telling me i'm lying and I will not be called a liar!"

"Okay, so let me get this straight." He runs a hand through his hair, before leaning against the side of the bench, "Your students don't believe you're dating a canuck, so you need me to help you organise a school trip-"

"For free!" You interrupt, knowing you won't get permission for a trip that costs the school anything more than a few buses and fuel costs, school funding being what it is.

"For free, to prove that you're dating me?" There are easier ways, Quinn thinks, to prove this. Like, him posting a picture of you together on the internet or him kissing you in front of the arena at a game, but it's kind of cute how much you're affronted by your students calling you a liar. It also sounds way more fun.

"Yup, is that...is that too much to ask? I'm being silly aren't I?" He hears it in your tone, the way you seem to start second guessing yourself, can hear you tapping a fingernail against your desk, probably messing with the little bear figurine he got you all those years ago.

"A little silly, but for you? I think I can pull some strings, honey."

You know Quinn will say yes to most things you ask, but you hadn't actually expected him to agree this time. It had felt too big, too much. Your normal requests were small, something like asking if he could get you a doughnut on his way home or could he put the dishes in the dishwasher.

"You serious?"

"Yeah, i'm serious." It takes a beat before your almost squealing in delight down the phone at him, the realisation that he's actually saying yes hitting and he can't help but laugh even as he pulls the phone away from his ear.

"I love you! Have I told you that today?" Your voice is sweet and happy, brighter than it was before. It makes him want to always say yes to you, the way you light up like a christmas tree.

"Mmm, not since 6am this morning."

"Well, I love you and you are the absolute best boyfriend I've ever had and I will never take you for granted."

He can see Tocc motioning him over, telling him without words that its time for the call to end and get back to being captain. Part of him just wants to keep talking with you, rare as it is to get to do during a working day, but he has responsibilities just like you do.

"I have to go, baby, I have practice...but we'll talk about this later, okay?"

He knows his evening is going to be spent planning out what you want this trip to look like before he goes away and tries to make it happen, but he doesn't mind. Anything to make his baby happy. Even if that is trying to prove a bunch of teenagers wrong.

Between the two of you it takes about 2 months to organise the trip. A lot of that time simply spent getting risk assessments done, approval from your administration sorted and organising parental consent. It also takes you getting the sports teacher on side because it was becoming difficult to find a justification as a History teacher for why you wanted to take kids to meet some hockey players. By the time you've organised it, most of your students have forgotten your claims. You have not forgotten their belief that you are a liar, however.

"I can't believe you managed to get us a trip to Rogers Arena! To meet the Canucks! Best teacher ever!" The hockey boys in your class are especially stoked, many of them playing in junior teams and following the Canucks closely as their team of choice. David is no exception to that rule, arriving to the school bus in so many bits of Vancouver merchandise that you're unsure how he's managing to walk weighed down as he is.

"I told you, my boyfriend plays for them." You remind him, ticking him off the register of kids and ushering him up into the bus.

"Miss, we all know that's not true." He turns to you just as he's about to dispear to find his seat. The scepticism written all over his face.

It makes you shake your head, waiting for the moment the puck drops.

The entire ride to the stadium features your students making fun of you for saying your boyfriend was a canuck, you let it slide simply because you're looking forward to seeing them eat their words. They think its funny right now, but you know you're getting the last and final laugh.

You're met at the entrance by, surprisingly, Tocc, who greets you with a warm hug, "Hey, how you doing?"

"I'm good, thank you for having us, Tocc." You like Tocc, he's a good coach and you like that he cares about how the guys are as people not just how they perform. You also can see how much Quinn appreciates him as coach, so you have a soft spot for the scary looking guy.

"No problem," You can feel the weight of 50 eyes on you, all varying shades of disbelief as they realise you seem a little too familiar when interacting with the Head Coach and its only the beginning. You can't help but smile simply because they're starting to realise that maybe they fucked up. Maybe their doubt was misplaced, maybe you actually were telling the truth all along.

"Are Quinn and the guys on the rink or in the locker room?"

"Rink, easier to fit all the kids, but we've got to get them booted up first." The famililarity with which you refer to Quinn and the guys, does not go past David and Stacy both of whom share a look that screams 'don't tell me that she actually knows them...'.

It takes a bit of time to get all 50 kids in skates, although at least 20 of them bring their own, as do you. You're not much of a skater, but dating Quinn meant you couldn't avoid him buying you a decent pair for family skate and the few times he manages to drag you on the ice each year.

You're about to put your own on when Quinn makes his way over to you clearly having just come off the ice, guards on his skates and hair messy from his helmet. He waves briefly at some of the kids before reaching you, taking your skates in hand without hesitation.

"Y'know I can do it myself, right?"

"When have I ever let you do your own skates? Besides, I thought you wanted the last laugh?" He nods his head in the direction of your students who stand gaping at the Captain of the Vancouver Canucks putting your foot in a skate and putting said skate between his thighs to help him tighten the laces with care. Not something one does for a strange teacher they don't know.

"I'm really enjoying myself already. The whole ride they were giving me all sorts of hell about it, and now I can see their little brains working hard to figure out if I was actually telling the truth or not."

You watch Quinn work, finishing tying off your first skate before reaching for the other, his hands are sure on your calf as he slips your foot into it. "The guys are looking forward to it, think this might be their favourite practice of the year. You might be their favourite WAG now."

"All I had to do was bring a bunch of teenagers to the rink to get them to love me?" Quinn stops mid lace pull, smirk firmly in place as he looks at you from underneath his eyelashes.

"Y'know they loved you already, right? Pretty sure Petey is your number one fan."

"That's because I bribe him with sweets." Specifically his favourite sour candy which makes his eyes water. The more sour the better.

Quinn huffs out a laugh, tying off your laces before patting your foot and setting it back on the ground. His hands reach out to help you to your feet and linger on yours a little longer than is strictly necessary.

"You ready for this?"

"Can't back out now, so I guess I have to be." There's a slight bubbling of nerves under your skin, the sense that your students might not think this is cool and instead think that you're undeserving of your relationship, but you shrug it off. After all, they're kids, their opinion on your relationship is genuinely not important.

"See you on the rink?"

"See you there." You watch him walk away and try to ignore the buzz of chatter you can hear from students, commenting on the fact that Quinn did your skates for you.

You get them registered, orderly and help them file onto the rink, the less sure of the bunch buddied up with someone who had more experience skating to avoid 50 kids bowling each other over on the ice. You did not want to deal with a pile of kids flat on the ice after knocking each other over, the paper work would be ridiculous.

You stand back and just watch. The clear awe on their faces as they step out onto the ice, the large rink impressive any day let alone for kids who had never stepped foot on a rink that size. It makes you smile, knowing you're contributing to their memories, providing something great even if it all started out of petty spite. Even if they don't believe you, you feel good knowing they're getting to enjoy this experience.

You skate nearer to the front, Brock and Petey giving you a bright smile and wave, a variety of nods of recognition from the others. Little things that once again tell your students you know these men better than they expected you to.

"Hey, guys. Welcome to Rogers Arena, it's great to have you here," Quinn starts the introduction, smoothly sliding forward on his skates and gesturing to the line of players as he proceeds to introduce each them by name and position, before finally getting to himself, "And i'm Quinn Hughes, Captain of the team,"

"And Norris trophy winner" You chime in, arms crossed as you watch your boyfriend do what he's best at. He's good with fans especially kids, even if he's terrible with the after game reporters.

He turns to you with a bright grin, "Hi, baby," You can see the twinkle in his eye as he drops the petname, you know he does it on purpose to get the reaction that he does from your students as a wave of muttering and murmuring goes through the little crowd.

"Hi, honey, thanks for having us." You throw it right back, more sickly sweet than you'd usually be, playing up to your little audience who practically gasp.

"Anything for my girl."

"No fucking way!" "What the hell?!" You watch each face drop, mouths open, eyes wide. Watch David as he swears loudly face aghast, almost horrified at the realisation that he might have been making fun of Quinn Hughes' girlfriend the entire time he'd been calling his teacher a liar.

"Language, David!" You tell him off even as you smirk, watching the murmurs die off as Quinn and Boeser talk the kids through skating techniques and how best to shoot the puck, the different techniques and ways to hit the puck with the stick. Half of it makes little sense to you but its nice to watch how the kids get engaged, how Quinn takes over a leadership and teaching role.

You mostly take a step back throughout, watching your students learn from Quinn and the guys, but every now and then Quinn finds you under the pretense of fixing your stance or giving you a tip or piece of advice.

Like now, as his hands reach out, fixing how you hold the hockey stick, foot kicking yours just slightly further apart to adjust your stance.

"So, think they believe you now?" You look over at your students, the joy they're having learning hockey from some of the best, but also at the looks they keep sending your way. You're certain they've learnt their lesson, the teacher is always right, at least when it comes to her own love life.

"I think I am offically the coolest teacher in school, so thanks for that." You reach up and kiss Quinn on the cheek, quick and chaste, nothing inappropriate considering you're both at work and surrounded by kids, but it's enough to make his cheeks flush red.

He rubs the back of his neck with that boyish smile of his and it makes you want to kiss him all over again, "Well, I couldn't have a bunch of teenagers calling my girlfriend a liar."

You're so stuck in the moment with him that you don't notice David and his friends until they're upon you and calling out to Quinn. The picture of respect when talking to who might just be their new favourite NHL star.

"Hey, Mr Hughes?" Conveniently half the kids surrounding you are the ones who claimed you must have been dating some beer league level player or some guy from the Chicago Blackhawks.

"You can call me Quinn, Mr Hughes is my dad. What's up, dude?"

"So when are we going to be calling teach Mrs Hughes?" It's your turn to flush, face warming harshly as Quinn's practically asked when he's proposing to you by a spotty 15 year old.

"David!" You might never be able to call your future child David at this rate, far too familiar with calling the name in admonishment. Definitely no David's in your future. Add that name to the list of names you can't use.

David looks at you with a wide grin, braces on full display. "What? I'm tryin' a help you get that bank!" It's actually mortifying, you thank your lucky stars that Quinn knows you're not actually after his money because if a 15 year old were to ruin your relationship you might actually become a super villain.

"I do not need a 15 year old wingman!"

"Baby, it's alright." Quinn wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his side as if that will sooth the embarrassment of having a 15 year old try to help you get a rich husband, "Uh, to answer your question, it won't be too long now, bud."

"So, like 6 months? A year? Next week?"

"Oh my god..." You turn your face into Quinn's shoulder, your groan muffled by his jersey. You're certain you might actually pass away from embarrassment, even if deep down there's a little thrill in your stomach that Quinn basically just said he's going to propose to you sooner rather than later.

"I gotta keep it a secret, sorry, man! Gotta keep Mrs Hughes on her toes." Your toes curl at the way he calls you Mrs Hughes, a small smile on your face hidden by his jersey.

A little back and forth is exchanged before David and his friends decide their bored and skate off towards Boeser who's going over the finer points of 'get to the net' and 'just shoot the puck'.

You mumble into Quinn's shoulder as his hands run up and down your back in soothing strokes, "Are you really ganging up on me with a bunch of teenagers?"

"Hey, I just told you that I want to marry you and you're mad at me?" He's not serious though, grinning as pushes you back to look at him. It's adorable, the pout on your face as you glare up at him for making fun of you. Although, you're always adorable to him, so maybe he's biased,

"Correction, you told a 15 year old that you wanted to marry me."

"Okay, okay, I see the problem." He shakes his head solemnly, hands on your shoulders as he lowers his voice just a touch, "Baby, just so you know I want to marry you."

"Okay."

"Okay?" You watch as he stands, mouth agape at your casual response. You're sure he was expecting you to giggle or squeal, but you're determined to mess with him a little.

"That's...nice to know?" You grin at him even as internally you're screaming because your boyfriend wants to marry you and you definitely want to marry him.

"You're such a fucking nerd."

"You're dating a teacher, that's like my whole thing. I'm a professional nerd."

"Yeah... it's cute. It's why I want to marry you."

"Quinn!" You shove him away with a laugh. Maybe your students won't be embarrassing you anymore, but you think you might have a lifetime of Quinn doing it instead. Somehow that doesn't seem like the worst idea.

[carpehistoryandthepens]

I love how the announcers are like, 'We may be up by four, but there is a lot of hockey left, so make sure you keep your expectations set.'

[shegetsburned]

archeology teacher!kento who’s your first-semester teacher for your anthropology major. he was recommended by one of your friends so you took his archeology class.

archeology teacher!kento who’s considerate and kind towards his students and has an inspiring passion for history although he comes off as stoic and aloof.

archeology teacher!kento who laid his eyes on you the first time when you came after class to his desk to ask questions, leaving a permanent impression on him with your cute demeanour and bright smile. your interest made him question his.

archeology teacher!kento whose athletic build molded by his tight blue shirt attracted your gaze more than once while he explained roman architecture with his back turned toward the class.

archeology teacher!kento whose subtle eye contact makes your heart flutter and your thighs clench together. he’ll always find your gaze whether you’re at the back of the class or on the sides.

archeology teacher!kento who won’t hesitate to take overtime if it means being able to deepen the subject with you and help you in any way he can.

archeology teacher!kento who shifts closer to you while showing you slides of ancient artifacts, occasionally brushing your elbow with his.

archeology teacher!kento who’s normally capable of separating sentimentalism from service, but can’t get you out of his head. thinking of you in ways he shouldn’t be thinking about when it comes to his students.

archeology teacher!kento whose hunger becomes more and more insatiable the more time he spends with you. his focus failing him every time you look into his eyes while he speaks or when you touch his elbow as you get up from your seat at the end of the studying session.

archeology teacher!kento who closes the door behind the last student after a two-hour long class on a friday evening, leaving you two alone. despite his tired figure, he insists that he can still work on some subjects with you.

archeology teacher!kento whose explanations are unusually incomprehensible and languorous. you ask if you should call it a day but his demanding eyes tell you otherwise.

archeology teacher!kento who leans on his desk, inattentively misplacing his stuff and shifting his weight closer to you, his cologne blesses your nostrils when his neck is to your height, forcing you to look up.

archeology teacher!kento whose heavy breath lends on your forehead when his hands grab the sides of your chair, pulling you closer, his thumb just slightly caresses your thighs sending shivers down your spine.

archeology teacher!kento who gives up any kind of restraint and self-control that inevitably comes with the job when he lifts you up on the desk, placing a ravenous kiss upon your lips, his hands tracing your curves up and down.

archeology teacher!kento who hurries his movements, skillfully undressing you with little to no regard for anyone that might enter and watch him fuck his student.

“n-nanami. is it okay?” you ask against his lips, already melting into his touch. you were certainly more concerned than him for the consequences.

but he had watched you for weeks, rubbing yourself against your chair, nervously biting your lips and nibbling at your pen while he taught the class. he had enough of your subtle grins and teasing smiles.

“i don’t care.”

archeology teacher!kento who gets off on your shy moans that echo through the whole amphitheatre. your hesitant whines are blocked by one of your hands until he grabs your wrist, pulling it down against the desk.

“let me hear you, sweetheart. let the whole school hear you.”

archeology teacher!kento who lowers your pants and underwear before unbuckling his belt and steadying himself right in front of your entrance, a grin on his lips when you ask for him by pulling his tie down.

archeology teacher!kento who mercilessly pounds into you, holding your hands down behind you and bending your body so your back arches against the wooden desk.

you wrapped your legs around him, pushing his weight forward, asking for him deeper, but the sheer size of his member was already enough to completely fill you. whenever he moved, it bruised your tight pussy, completely covering him with your seed.

archeology teacher!kento who places gentle kisses upon your ear and neck despite how greedily he fucks you. your nails dig into the desk to maintain yourself, every time he thrusts in.

archeology teacher!kento who easily but patiently leads you to multiple orgasms, keeping you in his class for more than one hour of overtime.

archeology teacher!kento who lets no part of your body undiscovered, leaving no place for the imagination when you end up completely naked as he eats your pulsating cunt just like you expected he would.

archeology teacher!kento who watches you leave his class for the tenth time, but this time satisfied. you left a delicious imprint on his lips and his hands that he’d think about for the whole weekend. he knew he needed to have you all to himself now and promised he’d ask you out for a proper date next time, hoping you wouldn’t say no to a teacher who had taught you so much already.

© shegetsburned 2024 please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.

[myonexox]

A GEEK

⁽ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ⁱˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵉˡˡⁱᵍᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶠᵃˢʰⁱᵒⁿᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵒʳ ᵖᵒᵖᵘˡᵃʳ⁾

pairing : jake x female!reader

genre : romance, fluff, slow burn, high school au, mutual pining

synopsis : your quiet, geeky girl’s life changes when jake sim, the most popular boy in school suddenly starts noticing you. what begins as awkward encounters turns into something special as you get closer and discover how much you mean to each other.

word count : 6.5k

you had always been invisible. not in the literal sense of course but in a way that made your presence in the crowded hallways of decelis high school feel unimportant. you just blended in with everyone else, your navy blazer and plaid skirt making you look like part of the crowd. it was a skill you had mastered over the years, being unnoticeable.

you’d walk through the corridors, arms clutching your books tightly against your chest, your head dipped low to avoid unnecessary eye contact.

life as a geek wasn’t bad. it was… predictable. your days followed a rigid routine that you found comfort in. morning began with your alarm’s shrill ring at 6:30 am sharp. you’d shuffle out of bed, slip on your thick rimmed glasses and head to the kitchen for a breakfast of toast and strawberry jam. by 7:15, you were at your desk, double checking your homework and packing your backpack.

your room was your sanctuary. shelves lined with books of every genre imaginable towered over your desk where stacks of notes and colorful pens were neatly arranged. posters of your favorite fantasy and science fiction films adorned the walls. it was the one space where you felt truly yourself.

at school, you weren’t the type to sit in the back and daydream during lectures. no, you were the girl in the front row, hand always raised with answers that made the teachers smile and the other students groan. it wasn’t your fault you loved learning. physics fascinated you, history intrigued you and math… well, math was the closest thing to magic you’d ever known. math was fun actually. there was always a solution to solve the question even if it took a while to find it.

the library was your second home. during lunch breaks, while your classmates crowded around cafeteria tables gossiping or laughing, you’d retreat to the quiet solace of the library. the librarian, mrs choi, often joked that you’d read through the entire fiction section before graduation. you weren’t sure if she was wrong.

your wardrobe didn’t exactly help you stand out either. comfort always came first which meant oversized sweaters, jeans and sneakers. you’d tried makeup once after watching a tutorial online but the eyeliner had smudged so badly you swore off the idea entirely. besides, who had time for makeup when there were more important things like finishing your essays?

if there was one thing you prided yourself on, it was your organizational skills. your planner was color coded. every test date, project deadline and extracurricular meeting was accounted for.

extracurriculars were another realm where you excelled, quietly of course. as a member of the school’s academic decathlon team, you spent countless times preparing for competitions that most of your peers didn’t even know existed. the thrill of solving complex problems was something only your teammates understood. they were your people in a way though you never hung out outside practice.

socially, you weren’t entirely isolated. you had acquaintances, people who’d partnered with you in group projects because they knew you’d do most of the work. there was minji who sat next to you in biology and occasionally borrowed your notes. and there was dohoon, your lab partner in chemistry who appreciated your knack for balancing equations but never talked about anything other than the assignment at hand.

deep down, you sometimes wondered what it would be like to be someone else. someone who didn’t have to try so hard to fit in because they already belonged. you weren’t bitter about it, envy wasn’t in your nature but the thought lingered on the edges of your mind. but what could you do? you’d much rather be home, curled up with a good book or rewatching your favorite sci-fi series than socializing. it was exhausting.

your family didn’t mind your geekiness though. your parents, both engineers, encouraged your love for academics. they were the ones who’d introduced you to stem at an early age, buying you science kits and puzzle books instead of dolls. your younger brother, jungwon, often teased you about your “walking encyclopedia” tendencies but it was all in good fun. he was the polar opposite of you, athletic, outgoing and effortlessly popular but the two of you got along well enough.

weekends were your favorite. saturday mornings were reserved for trips to the local bookstore where you’d spend hours browsing the shelves before leaving with a small stack of new treasures. afternoons were for academic pursuits, online courses and science experiments. sunday was family day, a time for board games and takeout dinners.

still, there were times when you really felt alone. like when the teacher announced group projects and you’d sit there, waiting for everyone to pair up, knowing you’d be one of the last picks. or when you overheard classmates making weekend plans that didn’t include you.

but you’d learned to accept it. after all, being a geek had its perks. you didn’t have to deal with the pressures of popularity or the drama that seemed to follow the school’s social elite. your world was small but manageable, filled with things you loved and understood. and that was enough for you. or so you thought.

but everything changed on the day you suddenly tripped over your own feet in front of the most famous boy in the school, jake sim.

it happened so fast you barely registered it. one second you were walking through the school courtyard, clutching your books tightly as usual and the next, your foot caught on a crack in the pavement. gravity did the rest.

your heart plummeted as your knees hit the ground, sending your books scattering across the concrete. the sting of embarrassment flared even before the pain set in. you heard laughter around you.

when you looked up, it felt like the world had slowed down. jake sim. of all people, it had to be jake sim. the most famous boy in school. the golden boy. captain of the soccer team, straight A student and the reason half the girls at decelis high pretended to care about morning assemblies. he was standing right there, his eyes widened in surprise.

his friends were there too. ��did you see that?” one of them said, snickering. “she went down like a ton of bricks”

“classic geek move” another chimed in. the words burned and your face was on fire, hot with humiliation and you wanted nothing more than to disappear.

but then, jake moved. he stepped forward and crouched down in front of you. his friends quieted, their laughter fading into confused murmurs as he extended a hand toward you.

“hey are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle and genuinely concerned. his brown eyes met yours and for a brief, bewildering moment, you felt a flicker of warmth in his expression.

but the warmth didn’t last. you’d already heard his friends laughing at you. you could feel everyone was staring at you. some of the students nearby had even pulled out their phones, recording the scene as if it were some kind of spectacle.

your stomach churned. you were sure jake was mocking you too. why else would he bother? why would someone like him, someone who had everything, lower himself to help someone like you? it had to be a joke, some cruel attempt to make you feel even smaller than you already did.

without thinking, you shoved his hand away.

“don’t” you muttered, your voice trembling as you scrambled to your feet. the words barely made it past the lump in your throat. you didn’t dare look at him again, didn’t dare see the reaction on his face.

clutching your books to your chest, you bolted. your legs carried you across the courtyard as if your life depended on it.

by the time you reached the safety of the library, your chest was heaving and tears were threatening to spill. you sank into a corner, hiding behind a row of books and buried your face in your hands. it was the most humiliating moment of your life.

the rest of the day passed in a blur. you skipped lunch, avoiding the cafeteria at all costs. you didn’t go to your usual spot in the library either, knowing that someone might find you there. instead, you wandered the school aimlessly, keeping your head down and praying that no one would notice you.

but of course they did.

by the time the final bell rang, the entire school had seen the video. someone had posted it on social media with a caption that read, “geek girl meets golden boy #epicfail”. the clip had been shared dozens of times and the comments were relentless.

“omg this is gold” “she really thought jake was gonna save her lmao” “that’s what she gets for being such a try hard”

each comment felt like a dagger. you tried not to look but it was impossible to avoid. the video was everywhere, playing on phones and whispered about in every corner of the school. you caught snippets of conversations as you passed.

“did you see the way she ran?” “i can’t believe she pushed jake away. who does that? she must be crazy”

you wanted to scream, to cry, to lash out at everyone who was treating your humiliation like it was entertainment. but mostly, you just wanted to disappear.

you were sure jake had seen the video too. how could he not? his friends were probably laughing about it right now, showing him the clip over and over until it was burned into his memory. the thought made your stomach churn. you imagined him smirking, shaking his head at how pathetic you were. it wasn’t hard to picture. people like him didn’t care about people like you.

as soon as you got home, you immediately locked yourself in your room, threw your backpack onto the floor and collapsed onto your bed. the events of the day played in your mind on an endless loop, refusing to let you find peace.

the way his friends had laughed. the way the crowd had stared. the way he had looked at you, his hand outstretched like he actually cared.

you groaned, burying your face in your pillow. why did he have to do that? why couldn’t he just ignored you like everyone else? if he hadn’t tried to help, none of this would have happened.

you stared at the ceiling, wishing you could rewind time and avoid the courtyard altogether. or better yet, wishing the ground had opened up beneath you and swallowed you whole.

the next morning, you dreaded going to school. you considered pretending to be sick but your parents would see right through you. so you dragged yourself out of bed, got dressed and braced yourself for another day of whispers and stares.

and the whispers and stares were there just as you’d expected. people glanced at you in the hallways, some smirking, others pretending not to look but failing miserably. you heard someone say “hey, isn’t that the girl from the video?” as you walked by. you kept your head down, your cheeks burning and pretended not to hear.

jake was everywhere. not literally but in every conversation, every snicker, every mention of the incident. his name had become synonymous with your humiliation and you hated it. you hated him.

but most of all, you hated yourself for caring so much. for letting one moment define you.

you just hoped it would all blow over soon. that something else would happen to distract everyone and they’d forget about you. until then, all you could do was survive, one day at a time.

the school day had dragged on endlessly, each second ticking by like an eternity. everywhere you went, whispers seemed to follow. no matter how hard you tried to ignore them, the laughter and muffled conversations felt like they were closing in on you, suffocating and relentless. you just needed to get away.

the rooftop. yes. you rarely went there but it was the only place where no one could find you. and it was the only place that came to your mind at the moment. it wasn’t exactly a secret spot. plenty of students went there during lunch or breaks but in the middle of class periods, it was usually empty. at least, you hoped it would be.

you made your way up the stairwell. when you reached the top, you hesitated for a moment, hand hovering over the metal handle of the rooftop door. taking a deep breath, you pulled it open and peeked through the small gap.

no one. the space was deserted just as you’d hoped.

you slipped through the door, letting it close behind you with a soft click. the cool breeze brushing against your skin as you stepped closer to the railing. for a moment, the weight on your chest eased. up here, you felt like it was just you and the open sky, no whispers, no stares.

a frustrated sigh escaped your lips as you gripped the cold metal of the railing. the humiliation burned like a fresh wound and the anger bubbling in your chest was too much to contain.

without thinking, you let out a scream. it was raw, loud and full of every ounce of frustration and embarrassment you’d been holding in. the sound echoed across the rooftop, carried away by the wind. but it wasn’t enough. you needed more.

“damn it!” you yelled, kicking the base of the railing with your foot. the clang of metal rang out, satisfying in a way you couldn’t explain.

“stupid video! stupid school! stupid jake sim!” the words tumbled out, each one more sharper than the last. “if everyone thinks i’m just some geek who doesn’t have feelings, they can go to hell!”

you turned and kicked at an old wooden box that had been left by the wall, sending it skidding across the rooftop. you let out a short, bitter laugh.

“look at me” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head. “having a full on breakdown up here. real mature”

for a moment, you stood there, breathing heavily as the adrenaline began to fade. the silence was almost comforting. you pressed your palms to your face, letting out a long, shuddering sigh.

but then, you heard it.

a faint sound like footsteps on concrete. you froze, your heart skipping a beat. slowly, you turned your head, your eyes scanning the rooftop for the source of the noise.

and that’s when you saw him.

jake sim.

he was standing near the door, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“that was quite the performance” he said, his voice light and teasing. “didn’t know you had it in you”

your heart sank. of all people, why did it have to be him? you felt the heat rush to your face, your earlier anger quickly replaced by sheer mortification.

“how long have you been standing there?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

he shrugged, pushing himself off the wall and taking a few steps closer. “long enough”

you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “oh my god. just… just leave, okay? pretend you didn’t see any of that”

“why would i do that?” he asked, tilting his head. “it was… entertaining. therapeutic even. honestly i get it. sometimes you just need to let it all out”

you dropped your hands and glared at him. “what do you want?”

he held up his hands in mock surrender. “relax, i’m not here to make fun of you if that’s what you’re worried about”

“sure you’re not” you muttered, turning back toward the railing. you gripped it tightly, your knuckles turning white.

then, there was silence. you half expected him to leave, to go back to his friends and tell them all about the geek girl having a meltdown on the rooftop. but instead, he stayed where he was.

“you know” he said after a while, his tone softer “people talk about me all the time. they make up stories, spread rumors, post videos. sometimes it feels like they think i’m not a real person. like i don’t have feelings”

you glanced at him, surprised by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“i’m not saying i know exactly how you feel” he continued, meeting your gaze. “but i get it. it sucks”

you didn’t know what to say, you didn't know how to respond to that. his honesty caught you off guard and you weren’t sure if you believed him.

“yeah” you said finally, your voice quiet. “it does”

he smiled then, a small, genuine smile that made your heart felt something you didn’t quite understand.

“so” he said, gesturing to the broken box “are you feeling better now?”

you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound surprising even you. “a little” you admitted.

“good” he said, his smile widening. “because i’m pretty sure that box didn’t deserve what you just did to it”

you rolled your eyes but the corner of your mouth twitched upward.

but then you remembered that this was all his fault. if only he had just ignored you like everyone else did, none of this would have happened. so why did he help you? why did he even do that? for what?

the questions swirled in your mind. jake sim was the last person who should’ve noticed you, let alone intervened. he wasn’t just popular, he was untouchable, orbiting in a world so far removed from yours that his sudden attention felt like some kind of cruel joke.

“well, what’s your deal?” you finally blurted out, turning to face him. your voice sharp but you didn’t care. if he was going to mess with you, he might as well do it openly.

he raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. “my deal?”

“yeah” you said, crossing your arms. “why did you help me that day? why didn’t you just laugh along with your friends like everyone else? that's what you should do”

his expression shifted, the teasing smile fading into something more serious. he ran a hand through his hair, a small sigh escaping his lips. “i don’t know” he admitted. “you just… looked like you needed it”

you blinked, caught off guard by his answer. of all the answers you’d expected, that wasn’t one of them. “what does that even mean?”

“i mean...” he said, leaning against the railing beside you “you fell and i just thought you might need some help”

you frowned, studying his face. “so what? you felt sorry for me?”

“no” he said quickly. “it wasn’t like that. i just… i wanted to help. that’s all. is that wrong? it's normal, right?”

you didn’t know how to respond to that. part of you wanted to believe him but another part of you couldn’t help but feel suspicious.

“well, you shouldn’t have” you said finally, looking away. “now everyone’s talking about it. about me”

“and that’s a bad thing?” he asked, his tone light but curious.

“of course it is!” you snapped, turning back to him. “do you have any idea what it’s like to have people laugh at you, to make fun of you just for existing? i’ve spent my whole life trying to stay out of the spotlight and now, thanks to you, i’m front and center”

his jaw tightened and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make things harder for you”

you stared at him, furrowing your eyebrows. he looked almost… guilty. did he? it was a strange sight, seeing someone like him apologized to someone like you.

“i- it’s fine” you muttered, the anger in your chest softening. “just… don’t do it again”

he smirked. “no promises though”

you glared at him.

he chuckled. “so” he said after a while “what’s next for you? going to hide up here forever?”

you sighed, leaning against the railing. “i wish i could. but no, i’ll probably just… go back to class and pretend none of this ever happened”

“sounds boring” he said, his grin widening. “you should do something more dramatic. like storm into the cafeteria and announce that you’re taking over the school”

you snorted. “yeah right, that’ll really help my reputation”

“hey, it worked for me” he said with a wink.

you rolled your eyes and smiled.

as you walked back to your class, jake couldn't help but find himself smiling. at first, he thought you were just a funny ‘geek’ girl, someone quirky and different from the crowd he usually surrounded himself with. but there was something about the way you had spoken to him that stuck with him. he didn’t know why but he kept smiling, the image of you playing over and over in his mind.

by the time he returned to his own class, he still couldn’t shake the feeling. it wasn’t like him to get distracted especially by someone so… unexpected. but after that day, he found himself looking for you in the hallways, hoping to catch even a glimpse of you. and whenever he did, he couldn’t stop the grin that would spread across his face.

it started small, a passing smile here, a quick wave there. but somehow, you kept running into each other. sometimes it was at the rooftop where he’d escape to find a moment of peace only to find you already there. other times it was at the library where you’d be buried in a book.

“hey” he’d say, sliding into the seat across from you at the library.

you’d glance up, startled at first but then your expression would soften. “oh it’s you”

“don’t sound so excited” he’d tease, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

you’d roll your eyes. “what do you want?”

“nothing” he’d say, shrugging. “just thought i’d say hi”

and somehow, those brief interactions would turn into conversations. real conversations. not the shallow small talk he usually had with his friends but actual discussions about books, movies, anything and everything. you had a way of speaking that was so candid, so unfiltered that it made him feel like he could drop the act for once. like he could just be jake, not jake sim, the popular guy everyone wanted to be around.

it was… refreshing. addictive even.

he didn’t know when it started but he began seeking you out more and more. the rooftop became your unofficial meeting spot, a sanctuary where you could escape the noise and chaos of school. sometimes you’d sit in silence, simply enjoying the view. other times, you’d talk for hours, your conversations flowing effortlessly.

“you’re different” he told you once, leaning against the railing as his eyes never left your face.

you raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “gee, thanks. that’s not the first time i’ve heard that”

he laughed, shaking his head. “i mean it in a good way. you’re… real? i don't know how to explain it but it's like... like you don’t pretend to be someone you’re not”

you shrugged, your gaze fixed on the sky. “what’s the point? people will judge you no matter what you do”

“true” he said, nodding. “but still. it’s nice. talking to you i mean. please don't ever change. just... be yourself. that's better”

you glanced at him and simply nodded.

it was moments like those that stayed with him. the way you could silence him with a single look or make him laugh with your dry sense of humor. the way you’d listen when he talked, like really listen without expecting anything in return. you didn’t care about his popularity or his reputation.

and he liked that.

as the days turned into weeks, he found himself thinking about you more and more. whenever he was alone, his mind would drift to you. he’d replay your conversations in his head, savoring every word, every laugh.

“you’ve got it bad, man” one of his friends teased one day, catching him zoning out.

he snapped out of his thoughts, glaring at the guy. “what are you talking about?”

“you’ve been smiling like an idiot all day. so who’s the lucky girl?”

“no one” he said quickly. “just shut up”

was it that obvious? did people notice the way he… looked at you? the way he’d light up whenever you were around?

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. maybe his friend was right. maybe he did have it bad. but what was he supposed to do about it? you weren’t like the other girls he’d dated. you didn’t fawn over him or try to impress him.

and that only made him like you more.

for the first time in his life, he felt like he was falling for someone, really falling. not because of their looks or their social status but because of who they were. because of the way they made him feel.

and as terrifying as that was, it was also exhilarating.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

the rooftop had become your refuge, a place to escape the noise and chaos of school life. you’d grown used to the tranquility it offered. it was your little corner of the world, a space where you could think, unwind and just be. but today, as you pushed the door open, the familiar sense of solitude wasn’t there. someone else had beaten you to it.

jake was standing by the railing, his back to the door. you froze for a moment, debating whether to leave and come back later but something about the way he stood stopped you. he looked… different. his shoulders were tense, his head slightly bowed as if he was deep in thought.

“jake?” you called out hesitantly, stepping onto the rooftop. he turned at the sound of your voice.

“hey” he said, offering a small smile.

you walked closer, stopping a few feet away from him. something was definitely off, you could see that.

“are you okay?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “you seem… a bit different today”

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he turned back to the railing, gripping it tightly. you could see the way his jaw clenched, the way his fingers tightened around the metal bar.

“jake?” you prompted gently, stepping closer.

he let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. “do you ever feel like… like you’re standing at the edge of a cliff and you know you need to jump but you’re scared?” he asked.

you blinked, caught off guard by the question. “i guess? i mean, i’ve felt scared about things before. is that how you’re feeling right now?”

he nodded, his gaze still fixed on the sky. “yeah. that’s exactly how i feel right now”

silence stretched between you. you didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to comfort him when you didn’t even know what was bothering him.

jake’s mind was a storm, a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions that he couldn’t seem to settle. should he tell you the truth? should he open up and lay it all bare, knowing that once the words left his mouth, there would be no turning back?

but what if you didn’t feel the same? what if his confession only made things awkward between the two of you, ruining the connection he had come to treasure so much? he hated the idea of losing this. it wasn’t something he’d experienced often and he wasn’t ready to let it go.

yet, keeping his feelings bottled up felt unbearable too. every time he saw you, every time you smiled or laughed or looked at him, it made his chest tighten and his heart race. he’d never felt like this before.

“why are you so scared?” he thought to himself, his grip tightening on the edge of the railing. “what’s the worst that could happen?”

the worst? he could already picture it. you’d avoid him, wouldn’t meet him on the rooftop anymore, wouldn’t share those quiet moments of peace and understanding. and he’d have to watch from a distance as you moved on, completely unaware of the effect you’d had on him.

but the best case scenario? that was harder to imagine. what if you smiled and said you felt the same? what if you took his hand and told him he wasn’t alone in this? it seemed too good to be true like a dream he didn’t dare to hope for.

he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. he couldn’t keep doing this, running in circles inside his own head, paralyzed by fear and doubt. if he didn’t say something now, he might never work up the courage to do it again.

“she deserves to know” a voice in his mind argued.

honesty. it sounded simple but it felt like the hardest thing in the world. still, he couldn’t keep running from this. he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when his feelings were threatening to consume him from the inside out.

with a shaky exhale, he opened his eyes and turned to face you. “this is it” he thought. “now or never”

“i’ve been thinking about something for a while now” he said finally. “something i’ve never really had to think about before. and it’s… it’s terrifying honestly”

you furrowed your brow. “what is it?”

he hesitated, his grip on the railing tightening. “it’s… complicated. i don’t even know how to explain it. and even if i did, i’m not sure you’d want to hear it”

“try me” you said, your voice soft but firm. “whatever it is, i’ll listen”

he glanced at you, his eyes searching yours as if looking for reassurance. whatever he saw seemed to give him courage because he took a deep breath and turned to face you fully.

“okay” he said, more to himself than to you. “okay”

you watched as he ran a hand through his hair again. he was clearly nervous which only made you more curious. jake sim wasn’t the type to get nervous. what could possibly have him so rattled?

“jake—”

and then he said it. three words that you never expected to hear from him.

“i like you”

you thought you’d misheard him. surely he hadn’t just said what you thought he’d said. right? but the look on his face told you otherwise. he was serious. dead serious. and that made your heart skip a beat.

“w- what?” you stuttered.

“i like you” he repeated, his voice stronger this time. “i have for a while now. i just… i didn’t know how to tell you. or if i even should. but i can’t keep it to myself anymore. i had to say it. i had to”

you stared at him, your mind racing. this was jake sim. the most popular guy in school. the guy everyone wanted to be friends with, to date, to be. and he was standing here, on the rooftop, confessing that he liked you? were you dreaming or hallucinating?

“why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

he blinked, clearly caught off guard by your question. “why what?”

“why… why me?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly. “i’m just… me? i mean, i’m not popular or cool or… any of the things you are. why would you even like someone like me?”

he let out a soft laugh though there was no humor in it. “that’s exactly why i like you. you’re not like everyone else. you don’t care about popularity or appearances or any of that stuff. you’re real. like i said, you're real. you’re honest. and you're just... yeah, you. you're just you. and you make me feel like i can be myself when i’m around you”

you opened your mouth to respond but no words came out. you didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process what was happening. this was all too much, too fast. and yet, there was a part of you that couldn’t help but feel… flattered. maybe even a little happy.

“i know this is probably a lot to take in” he said gently. “and i’m not expecting you to feel the same way. i just… i needed you to know. that’s all”

you looked at him. he wasn’t joking. he wasn’t playing some cruel prank.

“jake, i…” you began but your voice trailed off. you really didn’t know how to finish the sentence. what could you possibly say that wouldn’t make things even more complicated? and even more... awkward than it already was?

he smiled, a small, bittersweet smile. “it’s okay. you don’t have to say anything. like i said, i just needed you to know how i feel. that’s all that matters. i—”

before he could finish, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him forward and pressing your lips against his. it was sudden, impulsive and completely out of character for you. but in that moment, it felt right. it was a kiss that lasted barely a second, just long enough to silence him but not long enough to fully process what you had done. when you pulled away, your face was already burning as you released his shirt.

“i think… i like you too?” you said softly. your eyes darted everywhere but his face, too shy to meet his gaze. the words felt foreign and strange coming out of your mouth but they were true. you liked him and it was about time you admitted it, not just to him but to yourself.

you took a small step back, your fingers curling nervously into your palms.

at first, jake had been nothing more than the most popular boy in school. you had your books and your quiet life. you never thought someone like him would even notice you, let alone talk to you. he was charming, confident and surrounded by people who adored him. you had always assumed he was just like everyone else in his social circle. superficial, vain and too wrapped up in his own world to care about anyone outside of it.

but then that fateful day happened. the day you tripped over your own feet and fell right in front of him. the embarrassment had been overwhelming especially when his friends laughed at you. yet, amidst the jeers and snickers, jake had extended his hand to help you up. you hadn’t taken it then, too mortified and convinced that his kindness was just another way to mock you. still, that moment had stayed in your mind far longer than you wanted to admit.

after that, he started showing up everywhere you went. at first, it seemed like a coincidence, bumping into him at the library or passing him in the hallways. but then there were the rooftop encounters, moments that felt too deliberate to be accidental. you’d always gone to the rooftop to escape. it was your sanctuary other than the library. yet somehow, he had managed to worm his way into that space too.

you remembered the first time he sat down beside you on the rooftop. he hadn’t said much, just offered a casual “hey” before settling into the spot next to you. you had been too stunned to respond, too caught off guard. why was he there? what did he want from you? but as the days turned into weeks and the rooftop became your unofficial meeting spot, you began to see a different side of him.

he wasn’t like the version of him you had built up in your mind. he wasn’t just the popular guy who thrived on attention and basked in the admiration of others. he was thoughtful and... dare you say it, kind. he listened when you spoke as if your words mattered to him. and you'd do the same. and when he talked, he let down his guard, revealing pieces of himself that you doubted he shared with anyone else. it was in those moments that you saw the real jake sim, not the image everyone else worshipped but the person behind it.

you had tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered whenever he smiled at you, the way your pulse quickened when he leaned in just a little too close during your conversations. you told yourself it didn’t mean anything, that it was just your imagination playing tricks on you. but the truth was, he had wormed his way into your heart without you even realizing it.

it wasn’t one grand gesture or a single moment that made you fall for him. it was a series of little things. the way he remembered everything you told him, the way he teased you just enough to make you smile, the way he always seemed to know when you needed a friend. it was the way he made you feel seen. and maybe that was what scared you the most. the idea that someone like him could see you in a way no one else ever had.

for a moment, jake just stood there, frozen. he tried to process what had just happened. you kissed him. you actually kissed him. on the lips. and then you said you liked him.

“oh my god” you muttered, covering your face with your hands. “i shouldn’t have done that. i’m so so so sorry… i didn’t mean to make this awkward. jake, please just forget i—”

before you could finish your apology, his hands shot out, grabbing yours and gently pulling them away from your face. his heart was pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it but he didn’t care. in one swift motion, he leaned forward and captured your lips with his.

this time, the kiss wasn’t brief. it wasn’t hesitant or uncertain. it was full of everything he had been holding back. the longing, the fear, the overwhelming relief of knowing you felt the same. his hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. his lips moved against yours slowly at first, testing, savoring but as you responded, he grew bolder. the kiss became more fervent, more desperate as if he was trying to pour all his emotions into that single moment.

you felt his fingers tangle gently in your hair. his lips were warm, soft and incredibly inviting, making it impossible to think about anything else. the world around you seemed to disappear. the rooftop, the school, everything. all that existed was him, the way he made you feel and the dizzying sensation of his lips moving perfectly against yours.

when he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. his forehead rested against yours as he closed his eyes, a small, content smile playing on his lips.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while” he admitted, his voice low and slightly raspy.

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your cheeks still flushed. “you could’ve just told me”

“yeah, well” he said, finally opening his eyes to look at you. his gaze was warm, filled with so much affection it made your heart skip a beat. “i think this worked out better”

neither of you moved for a moment as if afraid that breaking the silence would shatter the magic of what had just happened. but when he smiled at you again, that playful, boyish grin you’d grown so used to, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

“so” he said, his voice light and teasing now. “does this mean i can officially call you my girlfriend?”

you rolled your eyes but your lips curved into a smile. “whatever you want, jake sim”

“i’ll take that as a yes” he said, his grin widening.

you stood close together, the breeze gently ruffling your hair. his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers.

it was strange to think how much had changed in such a short span of time. you, the girl who had always preferred to blend into the background, the girl who had built walls to protect herself from the judgment of others had found something so unexpected in the boy who had everything. and jake, the boy who had lived his life in the spotlight, surrounded by people who adored him for what he was rather than who he was had found solace in you.

it wasn’t a fairytale ending. it wasn’t dramatic or over the top. it was simple but that was what made it perfect.

[coffee-at-annies]

It’s his night (jakenbake)(poj)

[shoukokus]

Beautiful day/night (or afternoon) may I request how the overblot characters in twisted wonderland would react to s/o culture clothing? (For example: spanish people have those beautiful colorful traditional spanish dress)

I tried not to make it too specific, so as to not exclude anyone!

Riddle Rosehearts

He firsts sees your cultural clothing while attending a ball in his hometown

It was just for a couple of days, and everyone in Heartslyabul was invited, Deuce, Trey, and Cater were there too. Ace didn't want to go to a stupid event

It took you all day to get ready, and Riddle was beyond curious why you were being so secretive

But when you finally came down the stairs, your stunning garb on display, Riddle knew it was worth the wait

When you explain the significance of your outfit, he's very touched

You waited all this time to wear something so important to you, for an event important to Riddle? Someone hold him, he's about to start crying in the ballroom

Leona Kingscholar

When his family invited him home for a long weekend, the only thing that would make it tolerable would be your presence

He said something about some fancy dinner party really offhandedly, and you came up with an idea to make even THAT fun for Leona Kingscholar

Outside of your room in his palace, he waits for you, tugging at the tie you gave him for some reason

When you come out, ready for the dinner, it all clicks into place. His tie matches your outfit and its colors. But more than that? You look incredible

He smirks as he twirls you around a little, eyeing all the details and any skin that's showing....

You tell him that you wanted to make a good impression, to be proud of your history and culture like his family is... Well, let's just say he's thinking about how to mix those two cultures

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had potential investors coming to visit, and he was unbelievably nervous the night before

He was pacing, and triple checking all his accounts and even the freshly pressed suit laid out

He reminded you multiple times to have your own outfit ready, and you would assure him every time, don't worry... you got this

When Floyd and Jade escort you into his office a few hours before the event, he looks up and nearly breaks his pen in half

You look incredible! He stands and sputters as he compliments you. How did he get so lucky?! Where were you hiding this? It looks amazing on you and perfectly goes with your features

When you tell him the significance, he starts tearing up. He hugs you, whispering how much he appreciates you and the mindfulness you always give him

Jamil Viper

You and Jamil are having a cozy night in when the topic of cultures came up

With your full attention, Jamil tells you about the Scalding Sands and the society he grew up in

When the topic of clothes come up, you get excited, an opportunity presenting itself

You tell him to wait for just a little bit as you run to your room. He waits curiously until you finally come back

Your attire has been changed and Jamil is stunned. You look amazing!

He watches you with loving, soft eyes as you explain all the details of the outfit and what they mean

Vil Schoenheit

It was the first major event that Vil had invited you too, and the desperation to make it a good experience was palpable

A simple luncheon was surely like the jungle in Vil's world... but he was insistent that you could wear something simple yet elegant

With your cultural clothing, you decided to take the chance

Of course you would need Vil's approval so you invited him over the day before

When he enters your room and sees you inspecting yourself in the mirror, he's immediately entranced. What wonderful colors on you, how it works with your figure and features...

Telling him that it's from your culture, he's not surprised. Of course it would look perfect on you! With a kiss on the head, it is officially Vil approved

Idia Shroud

Idia finally wants to take your relationship to the next level... By showing off his costume collection!!

He has outfits from all sorts of different shows, movies, and games. It may seem silly, but they're very important to him

So the next day, you decide to reciprocate in a similar way

You invite him over for the usual game and snack night, but when he opens the door, he's greeted by you in a new, brilliant outfit

He thinks it's amazing, but is unclear on what it means. When you explain that you wanted to show him care in your own way, his hair turns a light pink

You.. showed him your important clothes in response to his important clothes? Yeah, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you

Malleus Draconia

Malleus had just bought you a ton of new clothes. It's not unusual for him to go buying up things for you when the impulse strikes

This time he had been thinking about how wonderful you'd look in some traditional Briar Valley clothing, and then... nine outfits happened

When it all arrives, an impromptu fashion starts as you try everything on to test sizes and styles

He's helping you sort through everything and hang things up when he spots an outfit he's never seen before

You tell him that it's the only change of clothes you came to Twisted Wonderland with, that it was important to your culture and meant a lot, but just hadn't the time or reason to wear it

Immediately demands to see it, and you agree. When you come out looking like the sun itself, he pulls you close and promises to keep your heritage alive and well

Requests are open!

[cherryredstars]

Hey sweetie hoping you're doing well

What about a college au where Miguel is a punk and reader is a smarty coquette? And Miguel is very teasing with her to catch her attention... Very enemies to lovers (with smut)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff, Penetrative Sex, Slight Mentions of Bondage

Summary: He loves how you wear your ribbons.

A/N: This request is so cutesy!! I hope you're doing well too, love!

Unedited

You hate him.

Which hurts you to say because you really do try your best not to hate anyone. But Miguel O'Hara makes it very easy to hate someone. You're just so tired of him! It's like he makes it his life mission to make you angry. Which makes you even more mad because he likes seeing you angry because he just loves making fun of how you look when you're mad!

He's always trying to annoy you. He finds it hilarious to pull on the ends of your bows, making them uneven and loose. You have to spend well over 5 minutes trying to fix your hair while he snickers about it. He's always pulling you back by tugging on your necklace of the day, maybe even pulling the ends of your styled hair. To him, there is always something nasty to point out about your carefully crafted outfits, let it be the quaint design, the ruffles, or even the freaking soft color of it. He finds some sick enjoyment in messing up your aesthetic notebooks and pens, removing the small decorations off of them when you're not looking or dirtying them with graphite stains. He always has to comment about something. He's making fun of the stuff he sees you liking on social media when he's being nosy. Has to tell you how utterly trash your music taste is as a Lana Del Ray song is sung under your breath. Can't let you have an ounce of peace when you talk about how badly you want the new Sonny Angels collection or looking for a specific Calico Critters set. Don't even get him started about all the pastel, cute items you have saved on Pinterest or on your home decor wish list.

But honestly, Miguel is a sucker for everything about you. He's constantly on his knees every time you walk into the lecture hall wearing your frilly skirts and dresses. Damn near collapses of a heart attack when he pulls on the silky bows in your hair or on your necklaces and the sweet smelling perfume you wear hits his nose. He's itching to steal one of your pens so he can have it everywhere he goes or taking a peak into your notebook to look at the dainty notes you are so concentrated on taking. He likes peering into your ribbon-filled world, trying to understand the 'relatable' posts you like about your favorite things. His browsing history is of the little toys you keep mentioning, an occasional search for room decor breaking the stream of Sonny Angels links. He has that one Lana Del Ray Album that you keep singing saved to his music app, and he much prefers your covers.

He finds luck where you find despair. While he loves the fact your professors always pair you two together because of your smarts, you find dread in knowing you can't escape him throughout the weekdays. You always have a pout on your glossy lips as you reluctantly take your seat next to him, your tote bag falling on the long desks with a thump to further emphasize your mood. It makes him chuckle, seeing your obvious dislike of being around him. It makes his heart skip a beat every time you turn to him, warning him in a low whisper to not get on your nerves today. In turn, he should be telling you not to distract him. He can't count how many times he's stopped paying attention to the lecture because he's watching you reapply your lip gloss or fix your hair from the corner of his eye. He's paralyzed for a good minute when you spray your perfume, leaning his arm the slightest bit out so the smell can cling to his leather jacket throughout the day.

But he finds himself the luckiest when he's walking through your dorm room for a project, taking in the distinct smell of you and a room that looks exactly like your Pinterest boards. He isn't exactly sure how it happens, but one second your notebooks are sprayed out against the covers of your bed, and the next they're a crumpled mess on your floor as he has you pinned under him. Your soft bed sheets have nothing on your skin as his rough hands travel up your legs and arms, pulling down the straps of your dress and untying them from the back. He's never been more in love with your bows than the moment your dress slips off your body to reveal the small bows decorating your underwear. It makes him groan as he slips them off your body, making a mental note to please take them home with him when he's done.

As much as he loves the ribbons in your hair, he can't help but think how pretty you look when your hair falls around your shoulders. He much prefers the look of the silk ribbon around your wrists, making sure the ends are even and the bow is tied in perfect loops. Your glossy lips look divine as they drop open in a moan as he pushes into your tight cunt, obsessed with the way your walls pulsate around his leaking cock. And the way you call out his name in that wobbly tone, so different from the low hisses you usually give him, has him gritting his teeth to will himself not to shoot his load so soon. His mind is as loopy as your bows when he buries his face in your neck, huffing at the smell of vanilla cherry and sweat and sex on your skin. He feels like he's in paradise, and even the low tones of Lana's voice filling the room doesn't take away anything from the moment.

Don't question him when that pink ribbon around your wrists goes missing after this, because there is no way in hell he isn't taking that home with him too.

Part 2 Part 3