#i find that the ones that are difficult and take a lot of coming back around and shifting fdirections come out the best

[ginkgooou]

dance lessons | alexia putellas

summary: you and alexia try dancing.

this one took a while; i rewrote it like three times before i was finally happy with it. i'm no expert in dancing, but i tried my best to describe the moves. i hope you enjoy! feel free to send feedback or requests. 😄

english is not my first language.

4,272 words

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

you were out with alba, leisurely strolling through the city, when you came across two people handing out flyers. as you were about to walk past, one of them stepped forward, stopping you with a friendly smile.

“hey, do you two want to try a dance class?”, the woman asked you, offering you a flyer.

alba just shook her head. “no, thank you.”

you stopped, intrigued, taking the flyer from her hand and looking over it. it seemed like a fun idea, something you could do with alexia - an opportunity to try something new together.

as you skimmed the paper, the lady explained, “we teach ballroom and latin dances. it's for beginners, so anyone can join. you can sign up online if you're interested. the website's on the flyer.”

you nodded thoughtfully, looking up at her with a small smile. “thank you. i'll think about it.”

with that, you turned to alba, who linked her arm with yours as you walked away. she gave you a knowing look. “you sure ale will do it with you?”

with a smirk, you replied, “i have my ways.”

☆

well, your way was simply signing both you and alexia up for the course without telling her. after three years together, you knew your girlfriend very well and you knew if you'd asked her, she would've immediately said no.

alexia loved her routines, finding comfort in the structure of her days. they gave her a sense of control in a world that often felt too chaotic.

you understood that and respected it, but every now and then, you'd try to pull her out of her comfort zone a little. a new restaurant, an unexpected detour through the city or, when time allowed, a spontaneous road trip - just small things. it was always a struggle to get her to agree to your ideas. alexia could be very stubborn, but you always found a way to persuade her.

you knew that this time would be particularly difficult as it wasn't a one-time thing like usual; the dance course would last over several weeks. you could already picture your girlfriend's grumpy face, insisting she didn't want to go, claiming that she had football and no time for something like this.

but, you'd already made a plan.

first, you decided that instead of ordering in, you'd make dinner. you settled on cooking pasta with the homemade sauce that she liked so much, hoping it would put her in a good mood.

you had just started on the sauce when you heard the soft click of the front door echoing through the apartment. it was quickly followed by the muffled sound of footsteps and the soft thud of alexia's bag being dropped on the floor.

a few moments later, you felt your girlfriend's strong arms wrap around your waist, her familiar warmth bringing a smile to your face. she placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder before resting her head there with a soft sigh.

“hola, mi amor. i missed you.”, she mumbled, her voice tinged with fatigue.

turning your head slightly, you gave her a quick peck on her lips, whispering, “missed you too. how was training?”

“good. lots of things to work on.”, she replied.

as you continued making the sauce, alexia stayed wrapped around you, watching you cook. “ale?”, you said gently.

she hummed in response, letting you know she was listening.

“why don't you go shower? dinner will be ready soon.”

alexia just pressed herself closer, burying her head in your neck, making you chuckle at her clinginess. “baby, come on.”

“vale.”, your girlfriend grumbled, clearly reluctant to let go. with a sigh, she finally released her hold on you and headed upstairs.

while she showered, you finished preparing dinner and began setting the table. you were just plating the food, when you heard alexia coming back downstairs.

you looked up to see your girlfriend padding into the kitchen, her wet hair falling over her shoulders, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants.

“it smells amazing, amor.”, she said, coming over and kissing your cheek. you smiled at her, turning back to the plates. “go sit down. i'll be right over.”

alexia nodded and made her way to the table, taking a seat and pouring two glasses of water.

once you finished plating, you walked over, setting the dishes on the table before sitting down beside her.

both of you eagerly dug in, conversation flowing effortlessly throughout the meal. between bites, alexia recounted her day, telling you about the intense drills, funny moments with her teammates and the interview she had to do while also asking about your day.

once you finished dinner, the conversation and you watched as the tension slowly melted away from her shoulders. her tone became lighter and more relaxed. you knew this was the perfect moment to bring up the dance class.

you glanced at her with a smile. “oh, i forgot to tell you! i was out with alba today. we went for lunch and then just wandered around.”, you began casually. “funny story, actually - we walked past some people handing out flyers.”, you continued, chuckling nervously as you watched your girlfriend closely.

alexia eyed you with suspicion. “what did you do?”, she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“well.”, you started, clearing your throat, “they were promoting their dance classes. i checked out the website - it looks really cool and professional.” you paused, grinning excitedly at alexia, “so, i signed us up for the course! it starts on monday.”

“no.”, your girlfriend said immediately, shaking her head. “no, no, no. we are not doing that.” you laughed at her instant refusal, expecting nothing less.

“come on, ale. it'll be fun.”, you urged, trying to convince her.

“no! i don't have time. i have football.”, alexia argued, crossing her arms defiantly. “sorry, amor, but it's just not happening.”

you sighed, giving her your best puppy dog eyes. “please? for me?”

your girlfriend quickly looked away, knowing she would crumble if she looked at you much longer. “..no.”, she repeated, but her voice lacked the firmness it had before.

sensing she just needed one more little push, you proceeded with part two of your plan.

you scooted back and stood up, alexia's eyes following you as you moved to straddle her lap, your arms wrapping around her shoulders while hers instinctively fell to your hips. she slightly leaned back in her chair, making room for you.

you slowly leaned in, lips nearly touching. “please?”, you asked again, your lips brushing hers.

you could see alexia's resolve wavering and you knew you almost had her. closing the distance between you, you pressed your lips softly against hers. when you pulled away, your girlfriend chased your lips, clearly not ready for the kiss to end yet.

“for me, baby?”, you asked again, a smile forming on your lips.

alexia opened her eyes, gazing up at you. after a few seconds of silence, she sighed dramatically. “i hate you.”

your grin only widened. “so you'll go with me?”

“yes.”, she grumbled, rolling her eyes. “but i don't like it.”

“thank you, thank you, thank you!”, you squealed, showering her face with kisses. your girlfriend tried to keep a straight face, but she couldn't suppress the wide smile spreading on her lips.

☆

it was monday evening, just before 6 pm, and the dance studio was filled with people. you stood near the back, surrounded by couples who were much older than you, their chatter filling the air. shifting nervously, you glanced at the door for what felt like the hundredth time.

alexia was late.

you two had agreed to come here separately, since your girlfriend had a late interview. she had assured you she would make it, but as the clock crept closer to 6, doubt started to creep in.

when it was time for the lesson to start, the two instructors, a woman with a warm smile and a tall man with black hair, stepped forward.

“hello everyone and welcome to the course! i'm isabella and this is my partner, luis.”, the woman said enthusiastically, her voice carrying across the room. “over the next few weeks, we'll be teaching you how to dance.”

you were trying to listen, but your thoughts kept wandering to alexia. as isabella started to explain a bit more about the class, the door suddenly swung open. your girlfriend burst through, slightly out of breath, still wearing her training kit.

“lo siento!”, she called out, blushing as she realized that everyone was looking at her. for a second, she scanned the room, her gaze darting past the curious looks before landing on you.

a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as your girlfriend hurried over, weaving through the people. when she reached you, she leaned in for a quick kiss. “i'm sorry.”, she whispered apologetically. “i didn't mean to be this late. the interview took longer than expected.”

you smiled at her, shaking your head. “it's fine. you're here now.”

alexia sighed, running a hand through her hair as she looked around, clearly feeling out of place in her kit. “i didn't have time to change.”, she muttered, tugging at the hem of her shirt.

“don't worry about it.”, you said softly, taking her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

someone clearing their throat beside you interrupted your whispering. you turned to see an older man giving you both a disapproving look. “could you stop talking? we're trying to listen.”, he said, sounding annoyed.

“sorry, we'll stop.”, you quickly apologized, flashing him a polite smile.

though, when you turned to your girlfriend and your eyes met hers, you let out a giggle. alexia couldn't suppress a grin, quietly shushing you and gesturing to the front.

you tuned back in just in time to catch isabella's last words. "so, our first dance will be a slow waltz," she began with a smile. "but before we begin, let's go over the hold."

she turned to luis, who took her hand in his as they stepped into position. he placed his right hand gently on isabella’s shoulder blade, while she rested her left hand on his upper arm. their free hands met between them. “the lead,” he explained, “places his right hand on the follow’s back, just here, and the follow’s left hand goes on the lead’s arm. your other hands meet, like so.” they turned in a circle so everyone could see clearly. they invited you to try it out, moving through the room and giving tips when needed.

“okay! now to the box step. it is really simple.”, isabella said. “the lead steps forward with their left foot. the follow steps back with their right.”

on cue, they moved, their feet sweeping across the floor in perfect synchronization. “step forward,” luis said, narrating his movement, “then side with the right foot, and bring your left foot to your right. then, you’ll step back with the right foot, side with the left, and close the feet again. that completes the box.”

you shifted your weight slightly, looking at alexia, who was staring at the instructors as if this dance was a tactical briefing before a big match. her brow was furrowed in concentration, which made you grin.

after they had showed you the movement a few more times, isabella smiled encouragingly at the class. “now, it’s time for you to try. we’ll walk around and help you.”

you turned to alexia, a playful glint in your eye. “so,” you began, raising an eyebrow, “who’s going to lead?”

your girlfriend chuckled, moving closer with a confident grin. “me, of course.” she tried to get into position, placing her hand on your shoulder blade, but you stepped back, not ready to give up just yet.

“but what if i want to lead?”, you asked hopefully. alexia shook her head. “no, i lead. no arguments.”

you huffed, pouting slightly as you mumbled, “so not fair.”

with a sigh, you finally let her step closer and take hold of you while you rested your hand on her upper arm. you could feel the warmth of her hand against your back, and despite your earlier protest, an excited smile crept on your face. “well, then. lead the way, capitana.”, you told her, laughing as she shot you an annoyed look at the nickname.

as it came to trying the steps, you could feel alexia’s earlier confidence beginning to waver slightly. she bit her lip, glancing down at her feet, and then stepped forward with her left. you weren’t ready yet and stumbled a little as you quickly tried to follow her lead and move backward, but you couldn’t hold your balance and accidentally stepped on her toes.

“oops, sorry!”, you blurted out, pulling back.

alexia just shook her head, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “no, it was my fault.”, she said, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. “okay. let’s try again.”

you both repositioned yourselves and tried again. this time, you were ready and as she took a step forward, you moved back with your right foot, staying in the rhythm. alexia was incredibly focused, her brows furrowed in concentration.

“forward, side, close.”, she murmured to herself, following the steps. the determination in her eyes made you smile, but you could also feel the tension in her body. “hey, ale.”, you said softly, catching her attention. when she looked up at you, you continued, “try to relax. this is just for fun.”

your girlfriend took a deep breath, trying to let go of the pressure. “you’re right. just for fun.”, she replied, smiling at you.

after a few minutes, isabella made her way over to you. “good! that’s good.”, she praised, offering a warm smile. “but try not to look down at your feet. keep your eyes on each other or look over the left shoulder.” she gestured for you to step closer together. “you can also move closer together. it will help you feel the movements and make it easier to follow the lead.”

you and alexia nodded, moving closer, and got back into position. your eyes met and a soft smile passed between you. when alexia stepped forward this time, you could feel the shift in her weight, making it easier to anticipate her next move. the closeness made everything smoother, as if you were more in tune with each other.

“that's much better!”, isabella remarked before moving on to help the next couple.

after the first successful attempt, you tried the box step again. but it was alexia who faltered this time, accidentally stepping on your toes. “i'm so sorry.”, she muttered, her cheeks flushing as her gaze shifted over your shoulder, embarrassed. “it's just…”, she trailed off, meeting your eyes for a brief second before quickly looking down at her feet. “it's hard to concentrate with you so close.”, your girlfriend admitted softly, biting her lip.

you smiled at her confession, finding it incredibly endearing that even after all this time, you still had this effect on her. you couldn't help but press a quick kiss to her cheek. “i love you.”, you told her as you pulled away, catching the soft smile that lit up her face.

alexia's hand pressed gently against your back, drawing you closer, her eyes sparkling with affection. “te quiero.”, she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, making your heart flutter.

suddenly, luis’ voice cut through, interrupting the moment between you. “alright, now that everyone's practiced the box step, let's learn the turning box.”, he announced, moving to the front of the room. “isabella and i will demonstrate.”

alexia cleared her throat and let go of you, turning her attention to the instructors.

luis took a moment to position himself with isabella. “the lead steps forward with the left foot, but this time, instead of moving straight, you'll turn slightly to the left.”, he began, showcasing the first move.

“as you step to the side with the right foot, your body should turn about 90° to the left.”, he continued, guiding isabella through the movement. “then, step with the left foot next to the right.”

they showed you the turns a few more times, with isabella also guiding you through the follow's role. as the demonstration concluded, luis turned to you all with a smile. “now it's your turn again.”

you and alexia quickly got back into position. “ready?”, your girlfriend asked, looking at you with a soft smile. “yes”, you answered.

you tried it slowly, wanting to get a feel for the added movement. it worked surprisingly well; you barely had to think about it as alexia confidently led you into the turn.

alexia was focused on the steps, murmuring them quietly under her breath. with each turn, you got more comfortable, feeling more confident in your steps.

encouraged by how well it worked, alexia picked up the pace a little and soon, you were gliding across the floor. just as you executed a smooth turn, you suddenly became aware of another couple moving in the opposite direction.

before you could react, you collided with them - your shoulder bumping into the man's side while alexia accidentally stepped on the woman's toes.

“oh no, sorry!”, alexia exclaimed, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. you, on the other hand, struggled to keep your laughter in as you turned to the couple, who looked just as surprised, but quickly joined you in the laughter. the man shook his head, waving off the mishap with a hrin. “it happens to the best of us.”

once you repositioned yourselves, you began anew, alexia now more aware of her surroundings. but the collision seemed to have made her relax more, smiling slightly while continuing to dance.

when luis approached, he smiled brightly at you. “that's really good!”, he said, nodding with approval. “keep it up!” the praise filled you with confidence and when you looked at alexia, you found her beaming with delight, her eyes sparkling with pride.

after a few more minutes, isabella moved to the sound system and put on music. “now, let's try it with music.”, she said enthusiastically.

as the melody of a slow waltz filled the room, everything changed. the soft notes wrapped around you, making the steps feel more fluid and natural, the rythm guiding your movements. alexia's confidence grew with every turn, leading you through the dance seamlessly.

you spent the remainder of the class learning more about the waltz, with luca and isabella showing you new steps here and there.

as you laid in bed that night, you turned to face her. “so, how did you like the class?”, you asked softly.

alexia shifted slightly, turning her head to meet your gaze in the dark. a small smile tugged at her lips. “i actually liked it.”, she admitted.

you raised an eyebrow, teasing her. “really? that's funny, considering someone didn't want to go at first.”

she chuckled, her hand reaching out to playfully nudge your arm. “yeah, yeah. but, really, it was fun.” her fingers intertwined with yours under the covers.

you grinned, satisfied with her confession. “i told you it would be.”

alexia sighed softly, leaning in to kiss you. “it was only fun because i did it with you.”

you smiled, your heart fluttering at her words. alexia wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you closer, her warmth lulling you to sleep.

☆

over the next few weeks, you continued going to the dance studio every monday, learning something new each time. throughout the week, you tried to practice as often as you could, but time seemed to always slip away from you.

both of your schedules were packed - alexia busy with training, matches and interviews while you had your own work commitments. it usually ended up with you practicing an hour before having to leave for class. but, despite the lack of practice, you both had improved quite a lot, especially alexia.

you could see your girlfriend's confidence grow with each session, her movements becoming more fluid and graceful. she led you effortlessly through the various dance routines - slow fox, cha-cha and tango - as if she had been dancing for years. she was a natural at this.

at least, that's what it seemed like to you.

one afternoon, you decided to surprise alexia and pick her up from training. you had a free day and since alexia's car was at the mechanic, she needed someone to pick her up.

after parking your car, you made your way over toward the building's entrance. halfway there, the door swung open and the first few girls exited the building. as soon as they spotted you, their faces lit up with excitement, and they rushed over.

“hi! i haven't seen you in sooo long. i've missed you so much.”, claudia said, pulling you into a tight hug.

you smiled warmly, returning the hug. “hey, clau. i missed you, too. work's just been a lot these days.”

after claudia let go, you turned to greet patri and ona with a hug, too. meanwhile, claudia continued talking, “you should visit more often. ale’s so much nicer when you're around.”

you couldn't help but laugh at that, knowing all too well how your girlfriend could get when it came to football. “i'll talk to her.”, you replied with a grin. then, glancing toward the building, you asked, “but speaking of alexia, where is she?”

more players had started to trickle out of the building, but still no sign of your girlfriend. ona was quick to answer your question, “she wanted to do some extra practice. she's still out on the pitch.”

you turned back to the group with a grateful smile. “ah, thank you. i should've known.”, you chuckled. “i guess i'll head in to find her.”

patri grinned, nudging your arm playfully. “you'd better. otherwise, she'll be out there all day.”

you laughed, pulling each of them into a quick hug. “alright, bye guys.”, you said, the three of them echoing your words as you headed toward the building.

inside, you made your way through the familiar hallways, your footsteps quickening as you approached the pitch, the faint sound of voices drifting toward you.

but as you stepped outside, the sight before you made you stop in your tracks.

there was alexia, but instead of practicing football, she was…dancing. and with mapi, of all people. they seemed to be attempting the tango - or at least something that resembled it. your girlfriend was, of course, leading, her movements focused and graceful.

mapi, on the other hand, was clearly less enthusiastic about the whole thing. “why am i doing this? i don't want to do this!”, she complained, barely trying to follow alexia's lead.

your girlfriend, already looking annoyed, sighed in frustration. “you need to be closer. i can't do this if you're standing a mile away from me.”

mapi threw her hands up. “i don't want to be closer, i need my space! i want to be free, not glued to you!”

you stood silently at the edge of the pitch, trying to stifle your laughter as you watched the scene unfold. alexia, determined as always, restarted the routine, but mapi still kept stumbling over the steps. your girlfriend's patience was running thin, the vein on her forehead looking ready to pop.

“come on, mapi. you're not even trying now. is it really so hard to follow a few steps?” her voice rose in frustration. “it's so much easier with ingrid! why do you always have to make everything so difficult!”

“well, i am not ingrid! and i am trying!”, mapi shot back, stamping her foot and refusing to take another step. alexia took a sharp breath, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “dios mio, i've had enough! you are no help.”, she huffed, rolling her eyes. she spun around, ready to storm off the pitch, but then her eyes fell on you.

she froze, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “oh, no.”

you couldn't help the grin that spread across your face as you stepped onto the pitch. “oh, yes.”

alexia blinked, trying to recover. “it's not what it looks like…”

you raised an eyebrow. “it looked like you were trying to dance.”, you teased, coming to a stop in front of her. “so this is what you've been up to?”

alexia blushed, looking everywhere but you, thinking of ways to get out of the situation. “it's just been a few times…”, she mumbled.

but mapi, who clearly had enough, jumped in. “a few times? she's been dragging ingrid into this for weeks! alexia stole my girlfriend - ingrid's always busy with her now. she barely even talks to me at training! and now i had to dance, too.”

you laughed, watching your girlfriend grow more embarrassed by the second. “i see. and you didn't tell me because…?”

alexia ran a hand through her hair, giving you a sheepish smile. “i just… wanted to impress you.”, she murmured quietly.

you chuckled softly, moving closer and cupping her cheek. “you're so silly, my love.”

your girlfriend wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “i'm sorry?”, she said with a crooked smile.

shaking your head, you leaned in to kiss her again, only to be interrupted by loud gagging coming from mapi. “ugh, can you not? this is torture.”

you both laughed, breaking apart as alexia turned to her best friend. “you're one to talk. and just so you know, i'll never dance with you again.”

at that, mapi began to laugh happily. “thank god!”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[within-ur-intro-verse]

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devil's manner by oronine; Multi-chapter (5,274 words), Rated: Teen; Yandere!KDJ - if Kim Dokja grew up a little different.

Repose by Waltzfor-Zizi (azro_zee); 6,783 words, Rated: Teen; Post-canon - In which KDJ feared the silence, and YJH was reminded that the lull could be a little scary.

Meetings by WindsOfTime; Series, Rated: Teen, Story 1 (39,658 words) and Story 2 (67,592 words); What canon could have been if Midday Tryst had been used more often.

Tangible Things by wyrvel; Series - Story 1 (Complete, Rated: G - 2,967 words), Story 2 (Complete, Rated: E - 3,870 words), Story 3 (Complete, Rated E - 7,710 words); Joonghyuk relationship during the apocalypse.

seldom the ghost returns by yamscooper; Multi-chapter (31,619 words), Rated: Teen; Post-canon - KDJ is hallucinating seeing OD everywhere.

[gothamite-rambler]

Duke Thomas: Okay, were in a zombie apocalypse -

Damian Wayne: Don't worry, Jason would shoot us if we got bitten.

Duke: That's not - even for a cure?

Jason (shrugging): Depends on how far we are from it.

Duke: Okay, I kind of understand that. Not what I was going to ask. My question is if in a zombie apocalypse there's a scarce amount of food, but then we find one dude who says "I have a bunch of food!" It's nothing but meat and it's clearly not meat from any type of farm animal... what would you do?

Jason: It's confirmed it's human meat?

Duke: Yeah, you find him cutting up a body one day, but he's like "You're cool. If you help me out I help you out."

Dick: He can season and cook the meat well?

Duke: Yup and he has recipes. Y'all can make a little gumbo on the weekends, maybe a couple burgers on Monday, do whatever you want.

Dick: Oh... Yeah I'd eat some of the human meat.

Jason: Agreed.

Tim: I would wait until I starve and then right when I can't take no more... Yeah I'd eat my former classmate if they were packaged and ready to consume.

Jason and Dick: Agreed.

Everyone turns to a horrified Damian.

Damian: I couldn't.

Duke: You kind of have to. The crops are dying and the virus makes it difficult to eat plants.

Damian: You can't fucking do that!

Bruce: Language.

Damian: No, fuck that, he added that last part in.

Duke: Okay, well who's taking care of any vegetation, farms, fruits? Doubt there'd be a farmers market during the zombie apocalypse. What you expecting zombie farmers?

Damian: It can still rain and stuff.

Dick (countering): There's no guarantee that'll help for long.

Jason: And I imagine with the infestation of zombie bodies it would affect the ecosystem eventually.

Bruce: What the hell?

Jason: I think about this a lot we live in a very weird world.

Damian: I'll start my own vegetable farm!

Duke (scoff): You're going to start your own farm, keep it in pristine condition, just so you can avoid eating your friend, Jeffrey?!

Damian: Yes! And I will have fruits as well!

Tim: You're a vegetarian, wouldn't it be a pass if they're human meat?

Damian: No, father back me up here!

Bruce: I mean if the circumstances presented themself and there was no other food to eat... Maybe. Maybe not.

Damian: He didn't say he would!

Jason: He didn't say he wouldn't either.

Damian: You all suck! And I'd blast all of you in the head with a single bullet!

Damian storms off. Duke chuckles, his trolling accomplished.

Duke: Stephanie helped me come up with this idea.

Tim: She would do that too.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Eskel noted Geralt’s scent on the crossroads. There wasn’t a lot of overlap in their paths (with so few witchers left, the priority was to cover as much ground as possible, not seek company), but Eskel had chased a creature much farther west than he usually went.

After a long, difficult hunt, Eskel decided he deserved to spend a night in his brother’s company.

Only, as he’s following Geralt’s scent trail, he hears an unfamiliar voice. The voice is in the same direction as Geralt’s scent. But Geralt didn’t take people on hunts, did he?

Eskel finds the source of the voice at what could only be Geralt’s camp. A man in a multi-colored, unbuttoned doublet is cooing and chatting at Roach. Who, amazingly, tolerates the noise. She’s also letting the man braid her mane.

What the fuck?

Scorpion, having recognized Roach, announced their presence with a neigh. The noise startled the colorful man. The man spun on his heel, fumbling to pull out a knife at his waist.

That knife…that was a Kaer Morhen blade!

Upon getting a good look at Eskel, the colorful man relaxed and sheathed his blade.

“You witchers, always sneaking up on poor bards. I swear, one of you shall startle me into a heart attack one day.”

Though he griped, the colorful man looked cheerful as he approached and held out his hand.

“Jaskier the bard, master of the seven liberal arts, at your service. Who might you be, sir Witcher?”

He was baffled by the man’s sunny, fearless attitude, but he took the hand, saying, “Eskel of the wolf school.”

“How delightful! Do you know Geralt?”

“We consider each other brothers.”

“And yet he never mentioned you. That man,” Jaskier tsked, “He never tells me anything!

“If it’s any consolation, he doesn’t tell us much either.”

Jaskier went on to tell Eskel that Geralt was out hunting and would be back soon. The bard invited Eskel to make himself at home and join him by the fire. They simply must become acquainted!

As Jaskier went on, Eskel got a good whiff of his scent. It was familiar to him. It was something that hung on Geralt when he returned from the path. Not to mention, Geralt’s scent was all over this man.

Given all of these signs, Eskel could only come to one conclusion: this was Geralt’s secret lover. The only thing that could make it more obvious would be if they exchanged medallions, which was impossible because this man wasn’t a witcher.

Eskel wasn’t surprised that Geralt kept his lover a secret. He had always been a bit territorial. And getting personal details out of Geralt was like trying to pry an alligator’s mouth open.

How lucky he was to encounter Jaskier! They could fill each other in on the details Geralt was needlessly stingy with.

I'm a huge sucker for witchers-meeting-jaskier fics, especially when they come to the conclusion that Geralt is in love with his bard (because he is!) I love this, I love this, I love this!

[stu-dyingstudent]

Sakura is the youngest of team 7

Let’s talk about a hot topic rn in regards to Sakura… the age order of the rookies. Tbh, I don’t think it’s a big deal but I’m tired seeing misinformation going around.

It’s been the common belief for many years that Sakura is the oldest member of team 7 because of the thought that the Naruto universe follows the American school system for age. However, if we use the Japanese school system then she would be the youngest of her entire graduating class.

What is used by many to back that Sakura is older is the information derived from the databook 4 character files. In those entries it follows that Shino is the oldest and Hinata is the youngest of the rookies. Sakura is said to be 17 during the war and Naruto (as we all know) turned 17 at the end of the war. This would indicate a following of the American school system for the ages.

However, databook 1 goes against this information. In this databook, it takes place in the middle of the chunin exams. For the character files it states that all of the rookies graduated at the age of 12 and that all of them are still 12 while under examination for promotion to chunin. Why does this matter? The only way for this to be possible is if it follows the Japanese school system and let me explain why.

In chapter 11 of the Naruto manga, kakashi states that “it’s springtime” during the Land of Waves arc. This whole arc lasts about a month and they enter into the chunin exam almost immediately after returning. In Japan, spring is from March to May and graduation takes place from mid to late March. Furthermore, the Japanese school system works where children with birthdays from April to March of the following year are placed in the same class. This lines up perfectly with the information here as if they graduate in late March then all of the rookies would be 12 when becoming genin and for the exam.

Now, you might say “well why should we trust one databook over the other?” Well, if you look at databook 3 it still follows that all of the rookies graduated at the age of 12, which follows what was said in the first databook. The entire timeline of Naruto is very difficult to follow without looking to extreme detail (which I don’t have time or care for). However, the wave arc being in spring is an easy find and sets up the storyline for it to follow the Japanese school system/year.

Even with all of this being said, I have seen plenty of people argue that “Naruto doesn’t take place in Japan and therefore doesn’t follow their school year.” Now let me ask, why would Kishimoto, a Japanese man who has used lots of Japanese history and folklore in his series and even said much of the scenery was based on Okayama (which is in Japan), not use the Japanese school year? Why would he use the American system instead? It makes no sense. The only logical conclusion is that Naruto follows the Japanese system and that databook 4 ages were a mistake.

Kishimoto himself has never officially come out to state the age order and there are no direct references of it in the manga. The only thing absolutely certain is that Sasuke is older than Naruto, which we all know and doesn’t help at all. Now, there is one scene in chapter 18 that could give us a clue that Sakura is the youngest, but it’s all perspective imo. Kakashi calls Sakura “our young lady,” which although doesn’t confirm anything, it does indicate or imply that she is the youngest of the team. Otherwise there would be no reason for kakashi to point that out instead of just calling her “our lady.”

Anyway, what I saw rekindle this debate was the apology that Shueisha released regarding some official Naruto merchandise that came out back in 2023. In this apology they admitted to getting the ages of Sakura and Gaara during the war arc wrong and changed the info cards of the characters from 17 to 16. In addition, Sakura's character description (for the war) in one of the Naruto videogames (Borutage) also places her at the age of 16 during this arc. Many fans say that these technically aren't "official" sources to confirm her age, but aside from the databooks, which contradict themselves, these are the only other sources of her age in the war. It's also something to consider that Shueisha went out of their way to make a public apology on the matter and corrected themselves. The databooks have plenty of mistakes, so if they apologized for one mistake then they would have to do it for all. Meaning, it's best if they don't.

Also, I have seen some fans say that this illustration was released by shonen jump, but I haven’t found any proof of that being the case. Nonetheless, I will still place it below as it provides a visual for the birth order and you can use your own discretion if you think it’s official.

Anyway, that's my two cents on the matter of age order. Cheers!

[murkystarlight]

There's a lot of dynamics. So I have dynamics, headcanons whatever really for the new order as couples or... something close(not doing any with Jesse though... Too many different ones that I got to write if I do Jesse. Srry)(or poly. Again, too many variables to write) and most of these are rare pairs ig

It's just me talking random stuff :]

Don't take them seriously

Uh... who do I start with-

Okay. Olivia and Petra (olivtra?)

I'll start with that.

Yeah, so... it's cute. I like this one quite a bit actually. I can imagine something like.. Olivia needing rescoreses on a project and Petra, without a single thought, runs out and comes back in a few hours(sometimes a day or two) with what she needs. And Petra handing them to Olivia with a proud smile on her face while Olivia also looks at her with a warm smile. But also a bit concerned cause she might be hurt. And if Petra IS hurt, Olivia would probably start tending her wounds while muttering stuff like "you idiot. I could have just gotten them from a store" and Petra just laughs it off.

They would cuddle a lot(+forehead kisses from Petra)(then Olivia chuckles and kisses her back)(oh god- what am I doing). And Petra loves playing with Olivia's hair 😌

They're very open about the relationship from the beginning. Probably starts flirting in the middle of a conversation with a whole crowd watching-

Next combo, Axel and Petra (...wait. hold on-- nvm. I can't find a ship name for this)

They're both a bit chaotic. Right? So they would do each other's interest often. Like Petra going to see Axel in Boomtown and having fun with him off on the side somewhere, or sneaking out together to go on a quick adventure or just talk. Sneaking around the griefers can get a bit difficult, but sometimes they make an appearance and just fight with/against the other griefers too. It's all in good fun.

I personally think Petra is good at cooking(and pretty much every other skill to a... an amount) but she isn't great at baking. And Axel on the other hand, great at baking. But cooking.. not as much(still good at it. Just not as good when it's compared to his baking skills). But he also likes to set the kitchen on fire sometimes so he needs someone watching over him. But Petra isn't great at watching over people(and would probably help him burn the place) so they just live off of raw meat and berries. Take out orders daily👏👏

They have a more... playful and friend-like relationship with each other rather than flirty or lovey-dovey shit. That doesn't mean they aren't lovey-dovey though. These cuties would have so much fluff when put in the right situations. I also think that Axel would hold Petra up in his arms a lot, and she really likes that since- he would probably be the only person that could do it(since she is taller than most people). Sometimes she literally crawls onto his shoulders and sticks there for hours if she doesn't have anything better to do.

Probably plays a lot of pranks together on others

Next ship! Olivia and Lukas (if you were expecting Petra again, you're WRONG.😈 This is completely random. I just picked the names randomly lol)(anyways- ship name- uh... darn it-)

They give each other book recommendations. I just think they would. Plus, Lukas sometimes helps Olivia with her redstone engineering, and since Lukas isn't as great as Olivia, she sometimes gives him small lessons about it. I gotta admit they would be so cute together ��

Olivia also gives Lukas feedback on his writing, and Lukas insisted Olivia to try writing too. (I think Olivia would have a diary)

Lukas likes making Olivia small treats to eat while she's working. (And bring her back to reality when she gets into the zone too much)

Either they are trying to keep each other on a healthy schedule, or they both are too immersed in their work and both of them stay up to work for days without food or rest. There's no middle! But after a long time of no-rest working they would cuddle up on the couch and sleep under a comfortable blanket together 🥰🥰

Their relationship would mostly be fluff

This... fourth? one is Axel and Lukas (lukxel)

They would definitely do a lot of baking together! They would share recipes, make new ones and taste each others baked goods. Axel is more into baking pastries or cake(like.. bread-ish?), while Lukas is more into cookies or muffins/cupcakes. Goes on picnics a lot with everything they made 🌸

They have this... uh... 'tradition' where they prank each other. Sometimes things get too heated and they fight. But they make up pretty easily and apologizes.

Lukas isn't a big fan of Boomtown. So Axel sneaks out a lot to see him. But Lukas still tries to go meet Axel himself, instead of relying on Axel to always come out to meet him.

Really tight hugs. (They are both very touchy and affectionate people)

They still kind of hold a grudge on each other for the past, but it's mostly solved. (They made it a joke to tease each other about it)

Okay- last two.

Olivia and Axel (axilivia?)

Not gonna lie. I'm pretty sure I shipped this when I was younger(still kinda do?)

They're like a old bickering couple. They're just too comfortable with each other. They found a nice spot between Boomtown and Redstonia where they can meet up. Even built a small house there so they can chill together. I feel like they would've bonded by being

'no screentime buddies'

Last but not least- Lukas and Petra (luktra)

*sparkle sparkle*

Axel still tries to scare and play pranks on Olivia. But by now, Olivia's more successful at doing pranks on Axel than Axel is at her(she likes to prank his pranks(??))

I'll be honest, I ship them so fricking bad- 😭

They're like a... childhood friends to lovers to a married couple who got divorced five times or smth but somehow still in love and gets back together everytime leaving everyone around them confused

Okay. Thank you for listening (I am happy to yap more about any ships you want me to yap about👐)(and I mean anything)

[wilcze-kudly]

Suyin wasn't "coerced" to commit a crime, neither did she want to take herself out of the situation. She wanted to get her friends out of paying for their crimes because she's spoiled and entitled.

She didn't "have" to travel the world, she was sent to family members to take her away from a criminal and endangering environment, and she decided to escape because she's too much of a pick me girl to stay with the so called family "that didn't show her affection". To be honest, you speak of her as some kind of adult avatar-styled Rapunzel, instead of a teenager who deserved to be reprimanded.

She did turn her life around, and kudos to the creators for showing that. No one can say that her story and background is boring by any chance.

She, however, is not the most likeable character out there to a big part of the fandom, but I seriously doubt someone is taking it as seriously as you seem to do. Just chill.

Istg this happens almost everytime I post something mildly touching on the fact that Suyin deserves compassion too. Though you may be the same anon who blew up my inbox a while back so it might just be you.

I've always found the disdain we have for "troubled teens" upsetting because usually, when a teenager "acts out", there's more of a reason behind it that just "ooh they're spoilt or entitled".

[Trigger warning for self harm and suicidal ideation mentions]

Like, I was a very difficult teen back in the day. I argued with my parents, even got into physical altercations, skipped school, ran away from home at night. I was also going through a severe depression, dealing with a shitton of childhood trauma, cutting on the regular and making multiple attempts on my life. Hell, if my parents had brushed me off as "a kid who needs to be disciplined" I probably would've killed myself at 14. It doesn't excuse me for punching my dad in the stomach when he was just trying to stop me from running away into the night but it doesn't mean I didn't deserve help.

[End of Trigger Warning]

These two things can be correct at the same time. Suyin can have done a shitty thing that deserves reprimand and that she needs help that she seemingly had to find on her own. But like, guess which of these two is almost exclusively focused on.

And I mean, it's totally not like the Avatar fandom has a habit of expressing extreme hate towards young girls (especially young girls of colour) making sub optimal choices or just beind "annoying". I've just never seen that before.

Suyin grew up with Toph, who Lin herself has described like this:

Suyin : No, no. My children are a blessing. Lin: Yeah, mom used to say that too, but she never meant it.

Which btw, still an incredibly hillarious thing to say in front of Suyin's children: "Hi kids I'm your aunt Lin and your mother is lying about loving you"

While Suyin has, as a child, expressed doubt that Toph would even care that she's skipping school. And as an adult, she has described her childhood with Lin as "competing for their mother's affection" and still has doubts whether or not her mother is happy with how either of them turned out.

Hell, even though Su and Toph have been said to have made up, Toph still maintains a heavy layer of distance between them, seemingly dissappearing for years at a time!

It's honestly sad how Suyin hugs Toph and puts up statues of her everywhere in Zaofu and yet Toph still just fucked off to the swamp when Opal was probably less then ten and did not contact them.

I mean, sounds like there's not a lot of motherly affection going on there, dude. Idk what to tell ya. We know there were no fathers around either.

And Lin was also a victim of this environment, so I don't really want this to come off as me blaming her for the way she acted towards Su. But Lin is hardly what I would call affectionate.

So of course Suyin would put so much stock in her relationships outside the house. And her friends happened to be fucking criminals fucking hell. And of course Lin, being a kid too did not know how to approach this situation properly, so she inadvertently just pushed Suyin closer to them by insulting them and making her feel defensive.

Because that's what all fucking teens do. The internalise things, they rely on their peers to form their perception of things and they want to be independent. So when someone, especially someone who isn't a parent tries to control them, guess how they'll react? They dig their heels in. Especially a teen like Suyin who has virtually no reason to listen to her older sister other than a vague "I know better than you" type of vibe which really pisses teens off. That's like the time when talking down to them is the worst thing to do.

And fuck off with saying getting arrested and screamed at by your sister in the middle of the road isn't a stressful situation that you wolud wanna get out of. Lin punched a car so hard it dented! (Especially that Lin has already been confirmed to use her status as a police officer against people she has a vendetta against, like when SHE TRIED TO THROW PEMA IN JAIL FOR STEALING HER MANS like how tf did we brush over that)

What I always find interesting in this scene is the front that Su puts on in front of Lin, which slips up a few times, particularly when Lin can't see her expression. Because Suyin is, of course being a fucking brat and taunting Lin, but you can clearly see that she's stressed out.

Suyin also describing the reason she helped her friends as a getaway driver is something I find interesting:

Suyin: I didn't steal anything. I just drove the car. I owed my friends a favor. It's not a big deal.

Of course she's scared and minimising her involvement but the usage of "owing her friends" could very easily imply her not exactly being too hyped about this, as well as her insistence on not stealing anything.

Because the thing about Suyin is that, especially in the flashbacks, we see her only in Lin's PoV. We don't see her relationship with her friends, what led up to the robbery, anything. Which makes sense, because the flashbacks are supposed to be Lin's. But that means we're viewing Su with the inherent bias of Lin, who clearly has an agenda against Su.

Lin clearly blames Suyin for Toph leaving policework, despite us later seeing how burnt out and cynical Toph was about being a cop. Its more likely that Su's arrest was a wake-up call for Toph, but she left due to the buildup of stress and disillusionment and Lin, who has been idolising her mother and her mother's career blamed it on Suyin in her head.

Hell, even they made up, Lin still immediately pivots to accusing Suyin of being involved in the Red Lotus' attack. Despite the attack placing Suyin's life, the lives of her sons and the lives of her guards at risk and Suyin going out of her way to thwart it.

And Suyin's life is just a fucking mess after this point like: betrayal by close friend, daughter kidnapped by terrorists, anarchy in the kingdom, leaders of 2 foreign governments trying to pressure her into subjugating the people in the name of a monarch she doesn't support, betrayal part 2; child boogaloo, the country she lives in being declared a dictatorship, city under literal siege, threat of attack in 24 hours, the fucking Avatar doing fuck all to help, a desperate attempt at assassinating the leader, getting caught and placed in questionably humane restraints, having to watch her daughter be forced to flee, PUBKIC HUMILIATION, the arrest of her non combative son and husbandd, INHUMANE JAIL CELL...

Do I need to go on? Like the moment the Krew came to her gouse her life just started to fucking fall apart its actually kinda hillarious.

And calling Suyin a "pick me" is just... unfounded? Who's she trying to get picked by? Her mom who doesn't love her? Girlie just wanted a family she literally said so in the show, put your listening ears on, babes.

I understand that Suyin isn't the most likeable character to people. I can understand why they dislike her. She can be annoying, hypocritical, rash, the poor structuring of the episodes around her and Lin makes it so she gets unearned favour from the writers etc. People who like Lin and Kuvira, two extremely popular characters in the fandom have an easy villain in their faves' lives if they just tweak Suyin a bit.

But that doesn't mean I'm obligated to dislike her too or that I'm not allowed to post about her in a way that doesn't allign with the fandom's narrative of her. You're not obligated to read it, hun, you can block the #pro suyin beifong tag if it makes you that upset to see me

I want to appreciate parts of Suyin which aren't highlighted by the fandom and I'm allowed to do that. Just because it doesn't fit with your clearly overtly negative opion of the character well, tough luck. And hey, I gladly take the opportunity to talk about Suyin, but I've also made a ridiculous amount of posts around har and have probably addressed almost every single fandom complaint of her at some point so I'm starting to get a little tired of repeating myself lol.

And I'll be the first to admit, my own teenage years probably heavily affect how compassionate I am towards Suyin, particularly in her younger years. But I know how much people hate "troubled teens", how little compassion thet are given.

The narrative that if a misbehaving teenager just gets deisciplined and reprimanded enough they'll stop being "spoilt and entitled" or acting out is wrong and harmful. It hurts tons of teenagers by not getting them the help they need and it would've fucking killed me.

Also hun, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I tend to use hyperbole a lot. I'm a dramatic bitch. Like did you also think I was serious when I said I'd shoot myself if I saw another ad for Amazon's shit lotr wannabe show?

Tbh everytime I get an ask like this I vaguely consider doubling down and commiting to the bit of being the fandom's "Lin Beifong hater". Though I feel like a lot of people wouldn't realise its a bit and think I actually hate her for real lol.

[nomairuins]

i like overthink everything now it makes me feel so dumb. i used 2 be able to just talk 2 ppl but nowadays every single thing im like Is that actually going to make them hate me. Yes probably. and then i just dont respond which makes ppl hate me. this is how it is

[b6d11f]

how small we are in the grand scheme 

how great

[laniidae-passerine]

Honestly I think Dean Highbottom has some shit to answer to as well. The mockery, the derision, the outright admittance that he was hoping Coriolanus would fail and the Snow family would continue to suffer. How someone who loathed the Games still treated a young man with cruelty because of the past, because of social divides that would be so easy to tear down. In the end, it wasn’t just Gaul who shaped Snow into the man he became. So bitter and hateful. So incapable of compassion and forgiveness. Just like his father. Just like his Dean.

[winter-spark]

CitoIta and Kingdom Hearts Headcanons

Because I like Kingdom Hearts and I like them and they are gamers

(I say CitoIta but honestly, it’s just because it’s about Citron & Itaru, the ship is kinda vague here lol. Like it’s probably optional to read it that way at this point)

(There’s an attempted bonus section about Banri at the end, that’s why I tagged him.)

{Opening in new tab is strongly advised. I used bullet points with sub bullet points. UPDATE: I personally struggled with opening this in a new tab on the blog where all the subpoints are properly formatted, so I pinned it so you can go right to my blog and find it easily if you want. Also I moved the Intro below the Keep Reading link for space.}

Keep Reading (I manually put this one so it would hopefully always open in a new properly formatted tab)

In this post, scientifically backed by my memory, understanding of the characters and other things (eg: feelings, unlisted headcanons, & my understanding of types of people in fanbases/the kh fandom, minus shippers, I’m not touching that... here, I might consider it in the future, probably not but maybe), I will go over basics like how many games they’ve played and their fave games, trios, characters by groups, and moments. Also, there are conversations and little tidbits about how it fits into their world. I tried to pick a favorite battle but note that they probably have more than one those are just notable ones that I thought were worth mentioning. There will be KH spoilers if you’re someone unfamiliar/not caught up with it. 

Citron

Has not played every game but has looked into the story and watched playthroughs of some of the other games.

Hasn’t played the games he has played in order, 

Might not have caught up on the story in order but if so that’d be more because he was looking for specific characters and info

Has definitely played BBS, Days, CoM, UX, & Dark Road. 

Might’ve played (one, two or all three of the following, idk) DDD, Re:Coded, KH

Has definitely not played KH2,

Likes to find/delve into theories

Read the Sleeping Realm Theory 

to Itaru, because he thought it sorta sounded interesting but told Citron he wasn’t reading all that.

I don’t know any other names of long theories besides SRT but you can bet your bottom dollar that Citron has read(or listened to) them for sure

Wants very much to try Sea Salt ice cream

Considering figuring out how to make Wayfinders

UX Union:

Anguis 

and has never switched unions

Favorites:

Game: Birth By Sleep

Trio: Keyblade Knights

Lost Trio is a close second

Character from each group:

Destiny: Sora

Sea Salt: Axel

Keyblade Knights: Aqua

Twilight Town: Hayner

Lost Trio: Namine

but Vanitas is a close second

Organization 13(minus Sea Salt): Xemnas, Zexion/Ienzo or Demyx(probably depends on the day)

Foretellers: Luxu

Xkids: Brain

& He gets bonus points for dressing up his Chirithy

DR Underclassmen: Vor

DR Upperclassmen: Vidar

Xehanort: Xemnas (?)

I know I listed Xemnas as one of his faves in Organization 13 but genuinely I feel it’s a v love hate relationship, where the love is that he can and definitely would(is like two seconds away from it) do an analysis on Xemnas’s actions/behaviors/character

Boss Battle(that he definitely 100% played): 

BBS Aqua ft. Terra vs Terranort

Opening:

Birth by Sleep 0.2 A Fragmentary Passage

Moments/Tidbits:

Involving Fave Trio:

All three:

KH3

Terra gaining control and saving Aqua and Ven

Aqua:

BBS

Doing her job but still standing up for Stitch

Giving up everything to try and save Terra

BBS 0.2

Knowingly chasing after illusions of her friends because she misses them so much.

Terra:

BBS

Gaining hope from meeting Cinderella

Standing against Eraqus to protect Ven

Ven:

BBS:

Running away with Stitch, lowkey being a space criminal

DDD:

Putting his armor on Sora to protect him from the darkness 

Involving someone other than Fave Trio:

KH1:

Kairi protecting Sora/saving him from being a Heartless

Days:

that Sora just subconsciously gave some of his memories to Xion because she didn’t have any

DDD

Neku telling Joshua Shibuya is his home too

Sora going off to thank the Dreameaters

Commonly Quoted(? idk what else to call these, i specifically mean the ones you find in compilations and stuff) Lines from the English Translation: “[’Me? I’m already half Xehanort'] ‘That’s nuts...’”

Bracketed the first part bcuz I think he uses the second part as a reaction sometimes, same infliction and everything

It’s at the point that Tsuzuru’s familiar with it, against his wishes(If Citron says the first part Tsuzuru might accidentally properly respond, that’s how deep in he is, he’s not even sure who Xehanort is(but he does think that’s nuts))

Final things of note: 

Is excited for Atlantis in KH2

Enjoys the attractions in KH3:

Loves that Dark Aqua could be beat w/ a pirate ship 

Loves that there was a roller coaster in the Keyblade Graveyard

Favorite Summons:

KH: Tinkerbell & Bambi

KH2: Stitch

KH3: Ariel & Meowwow

Often forgets he has items but has gotten really good at blocking and healing because of it

Very good with magic

Itaru

Has played just about every game in release date order, 

with just about 100% completion on all of them

Is (lowkey, but acts highkey) appalled Citron hasn’t played the games in order, currently planning time for them to play through all the games together

Has read the manga and maybe some of the light novels

Does look at theories sometimes, might even have a few of his own, definitely has his own headcanons

Secretly wishes he could share a Paopu Fruit w/ someone

UX Union:

Vulpeus

There’s a possibility he might’ve tried the other unions at some point but Vulpeus is his main and current union

Favorites:

Game: KH2

Trio: Sea Salt

Character from each group:

Destiny: Currently Riku, 

Wants it to be Kairi, but it’s just not, is always excited and ready for Kairi news tho

Was Sora for awhile

Sea Salt: Roxas, 

It really is, but he would absolutely main Xion if given the chance

Keyblade Knights: Aqua

Twilight Town: Roxas  Olette 

though he somewhat feels guilty to Pence as feels like he spent more time with Pence but that Olette is just a tad bit cooler

Lost Trio: Rep,

but Namine’s a close second 

Organization 13(minus Sea Salt): Currently Saïx/Isa, but it’s kind of a love hate relationship

There’s also a lean towards Larxene

Foretellers: Ava

Xkids: Skuld

DR underclassmen: Baldr

DR Upperclassmen: Hoder

Yes he cried over their story, no he won’t openly admit it

Chikage did witness it tho

Xehanort: Ansem SoD

Boss Battle (that he definitely 100% played): 

Days Roxas v Xion

Opening:

KH2, 

not because KH2 is his favorite game but rather it adds to why KH2 is his favorite game

Moments/Tidbits:

Involving Fave Trio:

All Three:

KH3

Their whole battle/reunion

to clarify the Lea Isa scene is a part of that

Roxas:

Days

The scene around the Riku vs Roxas battle

KH2:

Roxas v Sora scene

(I debated between this and the DDD scene. Also I feel like his list of favorite Roxas moment is longer than this but)

Xion:

KH2:

The seashell in the opening... for Xion

Days

Xion getting her own answers and spending time with Namine and Riku

Xion leaving all those seashells for Roxas

Axel:

CoM

Letting Namine go

KH2

Sacrificing himself to save Sora

Involving someone other than Fave Trio: 

KH2

Sora and Riku in RoD

Coded:

(Data-)Riku reaching for the moon

UX

Ephemer and Skuld saving Player|Star(light)/bringing them to the new version of the world

KH3 Re: Mind

Playing as Kairi in that boss battle

The fact that Kairi throws her keyblade because she trained with Axel

Commonly Quoted(?) Lines from the English Translation: “Roxas, that’s a stick.”

Final things of note:

Has found all 101 Dalmatians

Has read fanfiction longer than the Sleeping Realm Theory

(which is actually really easy to do, I looked it up and the docs word count is 31,265)

Has his Data-bosses battles on his channel

Proud it only took a couple of tries to beat Yozora (he recorded each try to put his win on his channel)

Uses items all the time, knows when the best time to effectively use items for maximum item usage

“Actual" conversations:

Fave Games:

Itaru: *rambling about some KH2-related topic &/or how he can’t believe Citron hasn’t played 2*

Citron: ooo! Itaru, are you one of those guys who feels Kingdom Hearts peaked at 2?

Itaru: Kingdom Hearts 2 is just an objectively good game, the other games are good too though. KH2 is just, objectively speaking, great. Is it my favorite? Yes, but it’s completely warranted as...

Citron: *smiling as Itaru starts rambling knowing that he’s point two seconds away from going into a 2hr spiel about how KH2 is great*

Itaru: *clears throat catching himself early* A-Anyway, which one’s your favorite?

Citron: Birth by Sleep! I love the ice cream rhythm game :3

Itaru: *understanding that there’s definitely a lot deeper of a reason to that being Citron’s fave* Oh, that’s a good pick. Actually sorta seems on brand for you. Ice Cream Beat is pretty fun.

[Then they boot up Itaru’s copy of BBS and play Ice Cream Beat]

Play Order:

Itaru: So it’s a little late for you to get the full proper experience but we’re gonna play the games in order because it’s really the best way to experience the games.

Citron: Ok, speaking of order and since we’ll get to Birth By Sleep eventually, we both agree that the best way to play the first time is Aqua Terra Ven, yes?

Itaru [has played each route and in varying order, does not quite remember which order he played the game in the first time but is pretty sure it was Terra Ven Aqua]: ...Ven makes a lot of sense to play last...

Citron: Then I am glad we are in agreement. ^^

Itaru: Most people play Aqua last tho--

Citron: Sure chronologically she left Land of Departure last, but story telling-wise *starts talking about why Aqua, Terra, Ven is the best order*

Twewy: (I could do a whole other post on headcanons regarding them playing twewy, it’d maybe be shorter, tho maybe I won’t bcuz I feel like they know more than me lol(I say like Itaru doesn’t know more about KH than me *cries*). If I refer to twewy’s og name wrong here I’m sorry)

Citron: It’s cool that the twewy characters were in DDD. :)

Itaru: Yea. Oh you played subaseka before you met the cast in 3D right?

Citron: :)

Itaru: Right?

[Citron refuses to answer because he thinks leaving Itaru hanging is funnier than a yes or no ever could be]

Ansem SoD as Itaru’s Fave Xehanort:

Citron *three seconds after finding out*: So, is he your favorite because nostalgia as he was the first one you battled or because you think he’s hot?

Itaru: *chokes on being immediately found out because it’s both*

Bonus: Banri & KH Headcanons for no reason other than he also plays games

(With some obligatory Citron and Itaru mentions below because this is their post lol Banri’s not a part of CitoIta. Just to clarify)

Probably has not played all the games

Stares at Itaru whenever he starts talking about secret bosses or hard-to-find treasure chests/secret reports typically until he stops, lists a specific Banri is familiar with or Banri finds a way to shift the conversation. It’s not that he hasn’t come across them he just

doesn’t know which bosses are secret and which aren’t

doesn’t go out of his way to look for treasure chests

Partakes in the memes

Can quote more games than he played honestly, loves those “out of context”/”lines I quote” videos

Has memes saved to his phone

Azami and Taichi borrowed his phone once for picture reasons and Azami was appalled by the Aqua Cinderella meme & the Terra memes (ifykyk)

Probably had Xion’s scream from Days as Sakyo’s someone’s ringtone as a joke (can people set ringtones and ringback tones anymore?) but then he recieved a call from that person in public and was lowkey highkey embarassed so he unset it

He and Citron:

have done a Goofy rendition of Bring Me to Life one time

though Banri sorta begrudgingly participated

At least one Mankai member who was there said he’s not going Karaoke w/ them anymore

are quick to point out or send pictures of “Lucky Emblems” when they see them, it’s almost a contest at this point

Sakyo has asked them to stop sending “lOOk!! a LuCKy emBlem!” in the main chat with a picture of three connected circles, Itaru eggs them on tho

Itaru participates too but he doesn’t have the same luck in seeing them, he is the reason they started tho as in person he pointed one out so later Citron sent a picture of one to show him, so Banri just had to too but he sent two as he already had the pictures and was gonna show them later, so Citron had to find two more to be in the lead and after he found just one more, Banri caught on that they were competing and they spiraled from there

I know logically they don’t appear that often irl but I also know in my heart that it’s happened enough that Taichi, then Kazu and Kumon participated. Now,  the rest of Mankai keeps an eye out for them

Between Tsumugi’s picture of flower bulbs leaning together captioned “Does this count as a lucky emblem?” Izumi asking how many points she gets for a random spot on the ground that sorta looks like a lucky emblem & Omi sending a picture of at lighting set up from work saying “ at this angle this sorta looks like a lucky emblem right?” Sakyo’s feeling a little betrayed because each of those were during times when people weren’t actively mentioning them in the chat.

Winter Troupe is the first troupe to all find at least one “Lucky Emblem”

Autumn troupe (jokingly) blame Sakyo for them not being first

UX Union:

Has probably been in a couple, Ursus or Vulpeus most recently

Favorites:

Game: Dream Drop Distance

but would rather tell you he “hasn’t thought about it, maybe 2″

Trio: Destiny, 

but might not correct you if you guessed Sea Salt,

Character from each group:

Destiny: Riku

He honestly sorta relates in ways. I’m not gonna get too into it but like yea he feels.

Sea Salt: Roxas

Keyblade Knights: Terra, 

but he makes jokes that rag on him a lot so unless you know Banri you would probably think he hates him or just likes to make fun of him. He really does like Terra as a character tho. Feels for him too. But as we know bullying is his love language

Twilight Town: Seifer Pence

Seifer’s a joke fave because of the undeniable proof [they] totally owned [those] lamers (if ykyk)

Lost Trio: Vanitas, 

but Rep’s a close second

Organization 13(minus Sea Salt): Larxene & Xigbar

Foretellers: Luxu (?)

Xkids: Player|Star(light)

DR Underclassmen: Xehanort, “but Bragi’s kinda cool, I guess.”

DR Upperclassmen: *hasn’t actually caught up yet, but he likes Helgi’s design*

Xehanort: Young Master Xehanort(YMX)

Itaru says it’s because they’re both brats

Boss Battle (that he definitely 100% played): 

KH2 Sora v Sephiroth or DDD Riku v YMX [I couldn’t decide which one to list]

Opening:

KH3

Moments/Tidbits:

Involving Fave Trio:

All Three:

KH2

Kairi “calling Riku tf out” ultimately leading to the reunion

KH3

Riku talking with Rep on the beach, Kairi and Sora sees him sitting there by himself

Sora:

KH1

Sora giving his goofy smile before plunging a keyblade into his chest

KH3

Sora dropping down to protect Riku from Dark Aqua in the nick of time

Riku:

DDD

That Riku just subconsciously became a dream eater

KH3

Riku taking a stand against the heartless despite just about all hope being lost

Kairi:

KH2:

Kairi(and Namine) preparing to fight Saix and the berserker nobodies with their bare hands

KH3 Re:Mind

Kairi getting a surprise attack in on Xemnas

Involving someone other than Fave Trio: 

KH3

Yeetus Vanitas

Woody roasting YMX

DDD

YMX & Vanitas spouting “nonsense” at Sora

Lea showing up and Donald & Goofy dropping from the sky, ultimately coming to the rescue

UX

Star ready to square up with the Foretellers

mainly in reference to the Star v Ira speech/scene/fight but the Aced one too

Commonly Quoted(?) Lines from the English Translation: “Mickey it’s Riku, they put bugs in him!” & “Thank you Sora’s heart”

Final things of note:

Always plays on proud mode from the get-go

Not really a completion-ist but does have just about every trophy earned on DDD

Didn’t know you could lose to Yozora in the battle against him

Probably actually more of a Final Fantasy fan than KH, or at least got into KH because the Final Fantasy appearances

Bonus Convos:

Demyx:

Itaru: Yea, I can’t figure out Luxord, for Demyx I’ve seen people guess his name as Myde.

Banri: lol I like the theory that his name is Demyx and he just wandered into the Organization 

Citron: That one is funny, but as far as likelyness goes I like to think his name is Demy and they just slapped an x at the end.

Banri: The laziest naming.

Citron: Exactly!

[and then Banri and Citron start talking about Demyx and it somehow leads them to talking about Goofy’s “death” in KH2 and now they’re talking about KH memes and jokes and Itaru just wanted to know if they had any thoughts on Luxord’s name.]

Vanitas vs Aqua:

Banri: *(possibly somewhat jokingly) insinuates Vanitas is as strong but probably stronger than Aqua*

Citron: *gasp* No!! He is not.

Banri: Really? Then how come he almost took Aqua out?

Citron[genuinely loves Vanitas]: He is a rat! He cannot beat Aqua in a fair fight!

Itaru: I believe he means brat.

Citron: No!! I mean rat, feral ferret child! Can only beat Aqua after biting her and giving her rabies! And even then, she still has at least a week to destroy him.

Itaru: lol that’s quite the metaphor.

Banri: I... *got lost* ???

Itaru: He’s saying Vanitas can only use dirty tricks to even get close to beating Aqua.

Banri: ???

Citron: If Vanitas could beat her he wouldn’t have to result to tricks like firing at Ven, which she was already off her A-game then mind you. But honestly, if Vanitas can’t even get close to beating Terra what hope does he have to actually beat Aqua. I can vouch that he can’t beat Terra. I beat the Terra v Xehanort and Vanitas battle by whacking Vanitas around. It was really easy. Vanitas has only beaten Ven in a fair fight. He’s not nearly as strong as Terra and Aqua. It’s demonstrated through their elements, really. Vanitas is fire...

Banri: *stressed, wasn’t expecting a whole lecture, looks to Itaru for help*

Itaru: *nodding along listening to what Citron has to say*

So yeah those are some of my headcanons involving KH and CitoIta (and Banri with minor Mankai mentions.) If anyone wants to do Taichi(who idk could play already, while I haven’t picked any out I know what type of moments would be his faves, I just can’t figure out yet if he prefers characters he relates to or characters he thinks are cool/want to be like) or Kumon (who I’d feel would want to start after seeing them enjoy it, bet Banri and Citron would have him play chronologically by timeline rather than release order “for science”) or any other characters, really, I’d gladly read it. I can see Taichi & Kumon playing KH but I don’t feel like I know them well enough to do this with them lol. I’m not even sure I know Banri well even to this with him but I attempted it lol. If there’s any questions about my decisions I might answer them, some are easier to put into words than others though. 

Anywho, I dunno how to end this post tbh. Ship CitoIta, Play Kingdom Hearts. idk. 

Thanks for reading all of my nonsense lol.

[radellama]

Picky but.. when watching a docco/docco style video, while it can be interesting to hear about how you ended up in contact with certain relevant people, or how there were plans to contact people that fell through, or that you couldn't get in contact with them... I hate when the filmmaker harps on and on about their 'investigative' process and try to dramatise it.

Sorry but. I don't really want a 15-20+ min detour of you lamenting over trying to get in contact with certain people when all that's happened is you sent an email and didn't get a reply.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 ❞

❝ PROF. GETO'S CLASS IS SO HARD, BUT HE'S SO HOT!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part one of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you were a 4.0, straight A student, until professor geto's class, the same far too hot ethics professor fawned over by faculty and students alike. you didn't understand what was so special about him...until you start having dreams about him.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, masturbation (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), getting off to his voice in recorded lectures, arousal from reading his writing, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, art by @/jatinsohanvi, google scholar graphic by platonic loml @laneysmusings

✧ wc: 10,149 (i have a problem) | part two

“You’re late,” 

Your first impression of Professor Suguru Geto’s class was that you could never be late again, unless you would like to be chided in front of all your peers for your tardiness. 

Your first impression of Professor Suguru Geto himself was that he was truly the most breathtaking man you’d ever laid your eyes on. His inky black locks tied into a neat bun, his deep royal purple vest buttoned over a crisp white button up with pressed gray slacks, his pretty lips pressed in a small frown, as his dark gaze pierced through you. And you don’t know what stirs in your chest — a fleeting moment that is tucked away under a bite of your bottom lip and burning cheeks. 

And now you knew why when you had walked into class, the amount of unfamiliar faces in this course had far outnumbered the ones in your usual course load — the same reason why this man undoubtedly had three chili peppers next to his professor rating on some website out there. 

And now you were faced with him staring you down as you stumbled down the stairs of the all too full lecture hall. 

As you muttered apologies, and took your seat far too close to the front of the class, smack dab in the very front of the very same professor whose eyes still were concentrated on you, before sliding back to the class at large. 

“Now, where were we?” he says, continuing the lecture. 

Ethics was not your major — you were a philosophy grad student, and although the two went hand in hand — no, they were not the same thing. Ethics are the moral principles — like rules to follow to live a moral life — people can follow, while philosophy is the study of knowledge, reality, and existence. And this class encompassed both — an ethics and moral philosophy class. Your eyes slid around the room — and compared to all the random majors stuffed into this classroom, you had no doubt you’d do well. Your eyes met Professor Geto’s — maybe one slight doubt. 

And when you get your first essay back, you eagerly flip to the last page of the paper, wondering what accolades and compliments you’d receive this time. Your eyes find the grade, and your stomach drops, a gaping maw that consumes you from the inside out. 

You got a B. 

A B+ — an 88 on your paper in this course, and you stared at the grade on the very last page of the paper you had collected from his desk — Professor Geto had insisted everyone submit their papers both physically and electronically — his scrawl in red pen littered each page of what you thought was a thoughtful and even clever paper on the existence free will and the ethical and moral dilemmas that surround it. And he had given it an 88. 

You had a 4.0 point average — you had gotten the highest scores in some of the most difficult courses required by your major, and now you were going to be derailed by a class you took on a whim? That’s not happening. No, you were going to get him to change your grade. You were seeing as red as the ink that tore your paper to shreds. 

“Come in,” your knuckles had rapped against Professor Geto’s door, your heart in your throat, as you heard his reply, entering his office. His office was as pretentious as he was. A much larger office than you had seen before (poor Professor Ijichi had a shoebox of an office), while Professor Geto’s was three times the size, outfitted with large, beautiful windows, distinct bookshelves, and even a lovely deep mahogany colored couch with decorative cushions. And you knew why that was the case — Professor Geto was an expert in his field, revered, even at his relatively young age. And the university had coveted him, and managed to lure him to work behind these ivy covered walls. While other professors who have been here longer are stuck with offices that don’t begin to compare. 

Academia was truly hell. 

And yet, Professor Geto seemed to rule over it with an iron fist. Even now, you found your professor looking as annoyingly perfect as ever — his elbow resting against his desk, pen in his other hand, as he flipped through more papers on his desk, his hair in a messy bun, a few black strands falling across his furrowed brow, his pretty lips pursed in concentration, and his dark gaze flicks up from his work to you, and his lips curl, your name leaving his lips, “good to see you, please sit,” 

You had planned to attend these office hours in victory, to apologize for your misstep in the first class, and let your professor praise your paper to no end — but instead you were going to see why your paper was graded so harshly. 

Your speech was ready, you were going to lay it out, you had the perfect explanation and the excellent reasoning “Professor Geto—” 

“I know why you’re here,” he cuts you off, lips forming in an utterly condescending smile, “you want to discuss your paper, correct?” 

“I am, I wanted to—” 

He sits forward in his chair, setting down his pen, “I’m going to save us some time by explaining my comments on your paper, do you have it?” and you close your mouth, pulling the paper out of your folder and handing it to him, “Your paper was one of the best in the class — it was thought provoking, grounded in research, persuasive, even made me consider some points I hadn’t before—” 

You blink, his praise catching you off guard, your thoughts twisting in on themselves, “Then why did you give me B?” 

“You didn’t allow me to finish,” he sighs, as he flips through your paper, looking up to meet your gaze,  “your paper was excellent when it came to philosophical concepts, but your ethical conclusions on the other hand, could use some work,” 

You gaped at him, “What did I possibly—” 

“To put it simply, you were trying to use your knowledge of philosophy to cover up your lack of knowledge in the field of ethics,” 

“I wasn’t—” 

“And that’s okay, because that means I have something to teach you don’t I? That’s why you’re in this course, to learn,” he gives a tight lipped smile, tilting his head. Oh you’d like to learn a lot more from him — like the ethical dilemma of wanting to murder your professor, “and I’m here to teach — and this paper is a teaching moment — and from your expression, I assume you didn’t read the comments I left in detail,” 

And your cheeks burn, as your eyes fall away from him, “Not fully in detail,” you still swallow your shame, and meet his gaze, “I don’t mean to be a bother, Professor, but how can my paper still receive a B — I’ve never received that low of a score on any single paper—” 

“There’s a first time for everything,” and you have to bite back your retort, “yeah first time having an annoying prick for a professor,” and he rises from his desk to hand you back your paper, “the bottom line is, I know you’re capable of better, this class isn’t going to be easy — I’m not going to hand you accolades for no reason. You have to earn them — if you aren’t up for the challenge, you can drop the class.” 

The option was there — you could simply drop the course, rid yourself of Professor Geto and his ridiculous criticism forever. You could take a class with one of the many professors who delighted in your papers (even the ones you’d written at 3 AM and submitted not proofread), and go on with your life and preserve your 4.0 GPA with ease. 

But then you looked at him again. He was unfairly hot, even when he was fucking putting you down, he stood in front of you, offering your paper, his fingers long and thick brushing yours by mistake as you took back your paper, a watch on his wrist gleamed in the low light of his office. You glanced around his office, saw the awards on his walls, pictures of him giving lectures or receiving honors, and the books that lined his shelves weren’t dissimilar to your own academic shelf at home. And your eyes fell back to his, as he stared at you curiously, lips pursed, as your paper slightly crumples in your fist. 

“Next paper is due in two weeks?” and he pauses, before his lips curl in that same grin. 

“Yes it is,” and a smile graces your lips, lightning quick.

Like hell you were going to let him win. You were going to get him to praise your papers (and maybe that wouldn’t be the only thing he praised) — if it was the last thing you do. You’d get an A in his class, hell, you’d get him to beg you to be his teaching assistant (he’d look very nice on his knees for you, wouldn’t he?). 

You rise from your seat, and grab your bag, “I’ll see you at your next office hours then, to discuss my paper topic,” and he watches you leave, his eyes piercing into your back as you do. 

“See you soon.” 

Oh, he would. 

“Right on time,” Professor Geto barely looks up now when you knock on his door, his door now always ajar for office hours. 

Now you had made a habit of showing up for his office hours, you’d bring your paper topic all picked out, along with your handpicked sources you had chosen for your paper, all typed up in a neat bibliography. And he’d kindly rip it apart with that same damn smile on his lips. It had been a few weeks, a few papers later — and you finally had worked your grade up to an A-, not quite an A+, but you’d get there. You had to. 

Because it wasn’t just about your GPA now — you were going to get Professor Geto to praise you — through any means necessary. The man was stubborn, even when you’d come back with an improved draft, he’d only hand it back to you with a smile barely tugging at the corner of his lips, with no compliment to be had — only small check marks scribbled in the margins in your papers, with the occasional “good” written next to it. 

“Well, we all know what happens when I’m late,” he laughs, a noise that makes the ice dagger clutched behind your back ever so slightly melt, “I made you laugh, extra credit?” 

And he rolls his eyes, and you notice that his dark eyes are hidden behind glasses today — and god, why does it only make him even more gorgeous? He’s already brilliant, it’s unfair for him to look as if he was sculpted by the gods as well, “It takes a lot more than a chuckle to earn extra credit,” and you can’t help but bite your lip. 

No, no, he’s the worst. It didn’t matter he was the epitome of every academic’s wet dream, you were above that. You had a goal. 

“So, can we discuss my next paper?” you hand him your bibliography, and he takes it, delicate fingers flipping through, your mind notes the absence of a ring on either hand, before brushing the thought aside. 

“You’re writing on the morality of good or bad actions,” he hums, as he looks over the sources you had chosen, “Scanlon, good — have you read—” 

“‘What We Owe to Each Other?’ Only about a million times — well more like six,” and he nods appreciatively, “of course you’ve read it,” 

“I didn’t just read it, I wrote a paper on it, similar to yours, actually,” and your eyes flick up to meet his, he’s leaning forward in his chair, red pen in hand, as he scribbles notes in the margins, as well as on the back of your bibliography, “of course I don’t have your penchant for rambling,” 

You pout, “I don’t ramble — I like to make my point—” 

“Many times, and the same one,” and your mouth opens, only to find a wry smirk on his lips, “I’m teasing, another one of my very tedious qualities, and how you stand it during class astonishes me,” 

You cross your arms, unable to meet his eyes, as you choose to stare at your bibliography instead, “You’re not completely tedious, more like irritating,” and he huffs a chuckle. 

You had to admit, begrudgingly, Professor Geto was a…good teacher. And you had your fair share of awful teachers — many of them were brilliant, accomplished people in their fields, but didn’t know how to translate and convey that in their lectures to students who simply knew less than them. But Geto…he knew how to break down complex concepts and theories of moral philosophy and ethics to a science, he knows how to make students understand these complicated topics that you had seen other professors fail to, and he does it while being an intellectual dreamboat to most of his students — the ones that swarm his desk after class, still there even as you slowly make your way out of the lecture hall. 

“A rare compliment from you,” he raises an eyebrow, “I’m touched,” 

“You’re one to talk,” you furrow your brow, and a smile pulls at his lips. 

“Didn’t know you wanted my approval,” he tilts his head, leaning forward to lean on his elbow on the desk, “well, you have improved remarkably in the class so far, and if you keep going like this, I may have no choice but to praise you,” 

“You will,”

“Someone is very sure of themselves,” a pause and then he adds with a quirk of his lips, “as you should be,” and he’s sliding your bibliography across the table again, and passes it back, “read the sources I recommended, and see about adding them to your paper — you may have some overlap in the other papers you chose so use your discretion on which ones you use,” 

“So don’t repeat myself?” You raise an eyebrow, and he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. 

“You learn fast.” 

And you do — returning to your apartment to work on your paper, as you flip through his notes — as much as you hate to admit it, his notes and criticism did help — annoyingly so. He was far more detailed and perceptive than any other professor you had. Most had let you skate by without a second thought, and you wrote papers like you deleted your internet history after a scandalous romp through elicit websites — tools, clear history — and then onto the next paper or exam. But Professor Geto forced you to face your shortcomings, face the things that you didn’t like to give a second glance to, lest your rejection sensitive self feel the agony of having to deal with criticism. 

Each time you did it, you got a little better, and he had a little less to say — time and time again. 

You leaned back on your bed, scrolling through the papers he recommended, but so what? So what if he was a good teacher? Doesn’t mean he has to be as infuriating as he is — he knew exactly what to do to get under your skin, and he didn’t prod at it, he scratched it. 

And you found yourself typing his name (“suguru geto”) and T.M. Scanlon’s name into the search bar of your university’s library collection, and his paper pops up right on top. 

You stare at the paper for a good minute, before you click on it — and you start reading. And reading. And reading — and fuck— 

It was good. It was more than that — it gave you so much insight on this topic, it made you rediscover T.M. Scanlon’s work in a new light — and you bite your lip. And it wasn’t just the research — the way it organized, the way it was presented, the way it was written — it was eloquent, but it wasn’t unreadable or incomprehensible. It was…really good. 

You imagined him, pouring over Scanlon’s work as he wrote notes in the margins of his copy, pages dogeared and passages highlighted, as he sat in his office typing away at this paper. His sleeves rolled up, his hair let out of his usual bun, his glasses perched on his nose as he read, only his desk lamp and computer illuminating his office. The keys of his computer clacking under his touch, lengthy fingers pitter pattering as he wrote his thoughts and analysis of Scanlon’s work — his brow furrowed in thought. 

And you felt yourself flush, swallowing the lump in your throat, as you kicked off your blanket — it was so warm all of a sudden, pressing your thighs together. You shook the thoughts from your mind — what the hell were you doing? You glanced at the time, 2:39 AM it read back at you mockingly. You sigh, shutting your laptop down, and putting it aside — you need to do your skincare and brush your teeth. You glance back at your laptop—the familiar of your flush clung to your skin like a forbidden kiss— 

And you clearly needed sleep. 

“Can you read this passage to me?” Professor Geto’s voice said, as he stood in front of you in the lecture hall — as you stood behind the podium that faced the entire class — hands in his pockets, in an olive henley, his hair tied in the usual neat bun, his black bangs falling in his eyes as always, glasses on, instead of the usual contacts. The class sat all around you — his exercise in getting the class to participate and get comfortable speaking in front of others, just as philosophers had done in the past (his very own “literary salon” he called it). 

You swallow, keeping your eyes fixed on the book in front of you, “‘When I ask myself what reason the fact that an action would be wrong provides me with not to do it, my answer is that such an action would be one that I could not justify to others on ground I could expect them to accept—’” 

“What do you think Scanlon meant by this?” he asks you, but his gaze was different this time, it held the amusement it always did when it came to you, but it was warm — no — it was burning. His lips were pursed, as he crossed his arms, the henley’s fabric seemingly straining under the action. 

“He meant that an action that is wrong in his eyes when he couldn’t expect others to accept the ground on which he could justify it,” and his lips curve into that damned smile, as he takes a few steps closer, rounding the podium, as he brushes past you, the brief touch of temptation incarnate — the dangling apple of Tantalus personified before you. 

“And can you give me some examples of what kinds of actions would be wrong?” and he’s standing behind you now, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him — but you can feel his gaze on you. 

“Senseless murder,” and he hums in approval, his breath felt like it was warming your skin, “wanton violence, reckless assault—” 

“What other everyday wrongdoings could fall under this category?” and suddenly the class before you is gone, and it’s just the two of you in an empty lecture hall, “theft, lying, student-teacher relationships?” 

And your breath catches in your throat, his cologne strangling any sense left in your mind, as his body heat nearly radiates off him, “Professor Geto—” 

“Suguru,” he corrects you, and he’s reaching for you, but he pauses, “can I—” and you only can nod, and his fingers brush your hair aside, ever so gently, “would this be considered a moral wrongness, sweetheart?” his lips press a chaste kiss to your shoulder, and you shiver at the softness of his touch. 

“Well, I am a student in your class, and even though I’m of age, it presents a power dynamic and a favoritism that might be—” and your sentence cuts off as his arms wind their way around your waist, pressing himself to your back, “I—” 

“Go on,” he’s murmuring his words against the nape of your neck now, as he pulls his glasses off to place them on the podium, “might be what?” 

“Might be viewed as morally wrong—” and he’s chuckling, the vibration sending a delicious shiver down your spine, as he presses more butterfly kisses to your neck. 

“How can something be wrong when it feels so right?” he asks, and his hand is sliding down your side, “feels so good, does it even matter what society views as right or wrong? Do their rules pertain to what we’re doing here?” and his fingers toy with the hem of your pants, teasing and pulling, as he pauses, waiting for your answer, “what do you think—” 

“Please,” you swallow, as you turn to look at him, seeing his lips in that same smile that haunted you, “touch me,” 

And his smile only grows wider, “Good girl.” 

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ. 

Your eyes flutter open, your breath caught in your throat, as you stare at your ceiling, your hand reaching for your phone to silence the alarm. And you squeeze your thighs together, a distinct ache between your legs, your skin all too warm. 

What the fuck was that? 

You skip office hours the next week. You couldn’t bear it — you could barely tolerate going to class now, as the dream invades your nights, with filthy variations that leave you perturbed and horny (mostly horny). The common theme only being that each time you get close to anything remotely that’s anything (a kiss, a touch that’s more than a caress, anything at all), you wake up. 

It’s as if your dreams are edging you — you groan into your pillow — and it was working. 

You’re so wound up, you’ve even resorted to using your vibrator before bed, wondering if that would make a difference — it did, but only with you having a dream of Professor Geto using a vibrator on you during class — the vibrations growing even faster when you were speaking as he watched you— 

You needed to stop thinking about this. But how can you? 

God, it’s even worse when you’re in class. You sit in your usual seat, front and center — and why does it feel like his eyes are on you far too often? Even as he lectures Professor Geto attempts to catch your eye during his lecture, trying to make a point, you all but glue your gaze down to the textbook and your laptop, typing away his words, trying to drown out the whispered words and groans from your dream that ring in your ears. You can’t stop seeing him — unless you want to skip class, which you really couldn’t when attendance and participation counted for a good chunk of your grade. 

Class ended and you were packing up your things. You had to weather the storm — avoid being alone with him until the dreams were just a distant memory— 

And then you heard him say your name— 

Your eyes flick up to meet Professor Geto — who had his usual swarm of students waiting by his desk, but he parted the crowd, he approached your own seat, hands in your pockets, “Do you have a class after this?” 

“No, I don’t—” the words slip out before your sleep deprived mind can put the pieces together. 

“Then can you please stay after class? I’d like to talk to you,” he says, and before you can say anything, he turns to speak to the students waiting for him. 

And now you wait — your anxious energy singing at the frayed ends of your nerves, as you tried to hold yourself together — wondering what he could possibly want to speak to you about. His students dissipated one by one, until it was just you and him left in the lecture hall. 

Just. Like. Your. Fucking. Dream. 

You round the row you sat in, before walking down to speak to him, “Is there something wrong? The next paper isn’t due until the end of next week—” 

“It isn’t about the paper,” and your heart squeezes, as you try to keep your breathing even, as he steps closer — and why, why did he have to opt to only wear a button up today —  and a deep royal purple one no less,  “I wanted to check in with you,” and he begins to undo the cuffs of his shirt, rolling them up — exposing his forearms and the pretty veins that ran along them — the same arms that he had used in one of your dreams to bend you over that desk, the whispers of heated kisses along your neck—

You needed to get out of here. 

You blink, “I’m fine,” and he tilts his head. 

“I only ask because you’ve looked tired the last two classes, and you didn’t show up for office hours this week,” he crosses his arms, unhelpfully, as he purses his lips, the lines of his brow furrowed. 

“I’m fine, Professor, I appreciate your concern — I just haven’t been sleeping well,” you admit — it was the truth, “and that’s why I didn’t come to office hours. I was trying to catch up on sleep,” 

He nods, sighing, fingers raking through his hair — those same fingers that would feel so pretty around your neck— “I know I’m hard on you,” oh he would be, “but it’s because I know you’re capable of more — most of these students are taking the class for an elective, but I know it’s more than that for you,” yes, it’s so you can finally earn his praise, “but I’m also here for your benefit, so if you need an extension or anything else, please let me know,” 

God, all you wanted was for him to maybe wrap you in his arms and kiss you, or bend you over, pull your clothes off and fuck you, or just to leave you alone all together. 

You weren’t sure which one you wanted the most at this moment. 

“I will, Professor Geto, I appreciate it,” you murmur, biting your lip, as you try to focus on the task at hand — getting out of here, “I don’t think I need an extension, I’ve made good progress so far. I just need to finish it, so I can revise,”

“Well, let me know if anything changes,” his lips curl, “ok?” And you nod, and if you weren’t so hyperaware, you swore you would have imagined it — but you didn’t, “good girl,” 

And you pause a moment — his lips did move, you pinch yourself discreetly — and you know it isn’t a fucking dream. You only smile in return, giving a curt nod and goodbye, before beelining out of the classroom. 

But you didn’t stick around long enough to see the slight flush on Professor Geto’s cheeks — nor did you know that you two were thinking the same thing about yourselves— 

What the fuck were you doing? 

But to your relief, the dreams do subside, and you’re finally able to rest — but the thing that doesn’t subside is your awareness of your professor. 

You sit in class, watching him teach — and you knew he was attractive, hell, it was one of the things that made you all the more embarrassed to have him ream you out — having your super hot professor rail at you for your mistakes wasn’t on your list of shining achievements (lest it was him actually railing you—). 

You needed to stop doing that. 

But it felt as if you weren’t the only one who was hyper aware. You felt as if his eyes skimmed over you during class this week, his replies to your weekly discussion board were less biting than usual, and his office hours were surprisingly canceled this week. First time all semester, but you weren’t so full of yourself that you thought it had anything to do with you — right? 

Either way, you had submitted your paper and now you were done with this week—and as class finishes, you slowly pack up, looking forward to the week being over with and for a personal rendezvous with your bed. But as the usual gaggle of students make their way to chat with Professor Geto, your eyes flicker up to meet his, as he stares back a moment. 

And you can’t make yourself look away, and for a moment, neither can he. 

But then a student calls for his attention, so his eyes flicker away, a smile on his lips as he spoke — and you turn to leave, grabbing your bag, as you look back— 

But why did his smile look so strained? 

There must be something wrong with him. 

Professor Suguru Geto drummed his fingers against his desk, but he felt more like shoving his things off his desk — if only to distract him for a moment. He pulls his glasses off, and runs a hand down his face—god, he hadn’t been sleeping well. No, his nights were plagued, plagued by you — you had slipped into his dreams ever since that day he stopped you. 

Why had he stopped you? 

It wasn’t the first time he had personally stopped a student who seemed to be struggling, he could count the times he had on both his hands. 

But this, this felt different. 

You were different. 

But why were you different to him? He rubs his temples, from the moment you had stepped into his office he thought he had read you — an overachieving student used to getting their way, As handed out to them, and an inability to take criticism. 

He knew, because he used to be one of them. But he knew you needed to be challenged to grow — but it was a matter if you would accept it. And from the moment you asked him when the next paper was due, he couldn’t help but smile. 

And his time spent in office hours with you grew more enjoyable each time you came. And when you hadn’t last week, he couldn’t sit still, checking the time, checking his email, and even checking if his office hours had been accidentally listed wrong in his weekly email to the class (they weren’t). And the hour and half passed with many students hungry for his time and his charm  — but not the  one he was looking for. 

Then those words had slipped from his tongue when he had stopped you, left his mouth like he was possessed, and now he had found himself here. Found himself thinking about how your lips parted when he said it, thinking about how you were feeling, thinking about you, you, you— 

There’s a knock at the door, “Professor Geto?” 

And it was you. 

“I apologize, I know you canceled office hours, but I just had a few questions I didn’t get to ask you in class,” your fingers toy with the ring you wore, a folder in hand, a soft smile on your lips. 

“Of course, come in,” and you did, your dress was painfully short, the fabric riding up as you sat, the folder in your lap, “is this about your paper?” 

“It is, I was reading a few papers, and after our conversation, I couldn’t help but find your paper,” and he tilts his head, “and I want to include it as a source in my paper, but I had a few points you made that I wanted clarified,” 

He raises an eyebrow, and he can’t help but tease,  “Clarified or criticized? Are you planning on turning the tables on me?” 

“Well I do have a red pen,” you click your pen, lips curved in a smile, and there’s a hint of heat that he wishes to unearth, pluck from the earth and possess himself, “but I promise I’ll be civil,”

 “I have no doubt,” he had a million when it came to you — but that wasn’t one of them. He runs his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “of course, let’s discuss it,” 

“You discuss Scanlon’s idea of a social contract, everyone within this moral society agrees on what’s right and what’s wrong — the basic principle is that if there is a rule no one can reasonably reject as a basis, but is there such a rule that can exist?” 

He tilts his head, “Scanlon’s theory relies on this premise — are you questioning me or the premise?” 

“Both, actually,” you shrug, crossing your legs, “is there a magic switch that changes every person to be rational? Because I think only rational people can agree on what rules cannot be reasonably rejected — what about people who are cruel, inconsiderate, self-absorbed? Do those traits go away when operating under Scanlon’s social contract? You propose in your paper that moral reasons are not subjective — nothing is uncolored by human opinion,” 

“No, but—” 

“How can we agree on what is truly right or wrong? How can one hundred people agree on that when everyone views these actions in different ways? Right and wrong? Black, white, or gray?” you rise from your chair to hand him his paper printed out, the paper more red than white with the amount of writing you’ve done, “like for example,” you lean forward, your hand braced against the edge of his desk, “can one hundred people agree that student-teacher relationships are wrong? Because one veto,” your hand trails ever closer to his, toeing that dangerous line either of you had even yet to approach to cross. But here you were, seemingly barreling toward it. 

And he didn’t want to pull away. 

He swallows, whispering your name, “This can’t—” and you were so close — too close, your perfume hypnotized him, your fingers brush against his and he can’t help but hold them, his thumb rubbing across your knuckles, “they can agree that it’s wrong — the power imbalance from the authority of the professor and the age difference—” 

“I disagree, so the rule isn’t legitimate, right? Even if one disagrees, the rule cannot be make valid,” and his breath catches as your fingers slide up his arm now, resting on his shoulder, as you lean over his chair now, as your other hand toys with the loose strands of his hair, “if the two of us can’t even agree, then how could a hundred, or a thousand, or a million?” 

“But—” 

“But what?” you pout, your fingers dragging down his chest, toying with the top button of his button down, “I don’t see you pulling away, do you want me to stop, Professor? Because I will,” 

And he swallows thickly, but he can’t stop you — he doesn’t want to, “But, we shouldn’t — it isn’t a reasonable objection—” he tries his hardest to stand firm, but he only crumbles when your fingers brush his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw. And it feels like flames tickling at his skin, begging him to thrust his hand into the fire. 

“Like I said, people are not reasonable,” your lips draw closer, and he can feel your breath warm his own, and god, why are you so tempting? And your lips stop short, barely an inch between your faces, “and besides, would you rather be reasonable or satisfied?” 

And there’s only one answer — you. 

He leans forward, lips nearly brushing yours— 

RING. RING. RING.

He jerks awake from his desk, papers sliding as he does, his breath caught in his throat, and his eyes wander — and finds no one else there. 

A dream. He runs his fingers through his hair again, crumpling the paper he had oh so lovingly drooled during his nap. He needed to get his shit together. 

But his current predicament wasn’t making that easy — his cock strained against the fabric of his pants — was he a grown adult or a horny teenager? 

Fuck. It wasn’t going away — no matter what he thought, his mind kept circling back to you. 

And his eyes slide to the time: 1:40 AM. 

Far past the time any soul would be here, even cleaning staff would have been long gone. It was just him—

And you. 

“So good for me, baby,” he’s panting, palming his erection, an embarrassing amount of precum drips from his cock for a barely wet dream. He ignores the gnawing guilt in the back of his mind — but he can’t help but imagine the image of you, spread out on his desk, hiking that oh so teasing sundress up, only to find your underwear drenched — just for him. 

His fingers would slide up your plush thighs, squeezing to draw a gasp from your pretty lips, “Professor—“ you’d say, unable to form a sentence, all those brilliant falling away under his touch, until it was just him occupying every crevice of your mind. 

“Where’s that mouth now? So needy f’me,” he’d murmur, “but such a good girl,” and you were, his thumb tracing his slit, smearing his pre-cum, as he imagined you spread on his desk, your puffy folds nearly showing through your far too translucent panties, “my best student’s so pliant for me now,”

And his hand moves faster, and he can imagine your fingers reaching for him too, your smaller fingers wouldn’t be able to even touch as much as he can — but god it would feel so much better. 

But he’d want you to feel even better than he did.  

He’d tug your underwear down, stuffing it in his pocket (his fee for all of additional office hours), and he would prep you right — fuck you open with his fingers, two or three, before he tasted you. Your fingers would dig into his scalp as you moaned his name again and again, before you came all over his face. 

He’d lick his lips clean of your release, before dragging his cock down your sweet cunt, watching his precum mix with your cum, as your walls flutter around nothing, craving to have him sink into you. 

“Professor, please,” you’d beg with pretty, kiss bitten lips between pants, “please,” 

“Where’s all those quips now, sweetheart?” he’d tease, as he would let his tip tease your clit, pulling a moan from your lips, “all those words fall away when you want this cock, don’t they? Been thinking about you like this, wondering what you’d look like spread out under me,” and he would lean down to kiss you, “it’s even better than I expected,”

He’s jerking himself off in earnest now, the lewd noises of his hand around his cock filling most of the silence, his low groans filling the rest. And he’d finally sink into you, inch by inch, until he’d kiss your cervix with his weeping tip. 

And, god, he wishes his fingers fisted around his cock would be as good as your cunt would feel around him. He would fuck you slow at first, “I know those boys can’t fuck you as good as I can, as well as I can,” he’d tell you, as he would pick up the pace when you’d tell him to, making you cum again and again with his cock, thumb rubbing at your clit, until he was finally close. He’d either cum all over your stomach, marking you with his release, or if you’d let him, he’d cum inside you, filling you with his seed—and then he’d watch it drip out when he would pull out. He groans your name lowly, shuddering as he comes all over his hand, hard. 

Fuck. 

That’s the hardest he’d cum in a long time. He’s a mess — panting and flushed, as he leans back, head against the back of his  chair, too spent to even clean up. And then he finally does, cleaning himself up well, and collecting his things to leave the office. 

But he only treated the symptoms, not the problem itself. His hard-on is gone, but his mind is still filled with thoughts of you. How he’d kiss you sweetly after, how he’d clean you up, care for you gently, make you rest because you never seem to do enough of that, and he’d let you relax — finally relax, as you slept the night in his arms. 

As he heads to his car, he knows that he’s utterly fucked (without even being fucked) because he has feelings for you. And he didn’t know if they were going to go away as easily as he hoped. 

But he hoped they would. He owed it to you, your education, and your future career not to act on these feelings. 

And he sighs as he sits in his car, starting it, but why did it hurt not to? 

It was that time again. 

Your next paper had come around again, and you needed to prepare a topic before you went to speak to Professor Geto. You had put it off, something you had never done with his class, but you wanted to limit the amount of time you spent with him, if only for the sake of your heart. 

Watching him in lectures was bad enough, your thighs pressing together as you watched him speak, his impeccable looks and intelligence a deadly combination for your heart (and your body). You could barely focus, your eyes too fixed on the way he wrote on the board —  his fingers too lithe and too thick, his voice all too alluring when discussing Kant and Aristotle and you can’t help but think what he’d sound moaning your name. 

God. Fuck.  

Either way, you needed to listen to the lectures again since you weren’t able to pay attention. Maybe without watching the video would be better, you settle on your bed, notebook and pen in hand, as you place your headphones on. His voice filled your ears, and you’re scrawling notes. 

But your mind begins to wander. He’s lecturing on the deontological ethics, and all you can think about is how he could make you cum with just that voice of his.  

Shit, you shifted your thighs again, feeling that familiar ache again. What would he sound like when he moaned? How would it sound to have him touch you, run those long fingers down your thighs, and whisper filthy things in your ear? 

As you listened to the lecture, his voice became white noise as your fingers slipped past the waistband of your shorts, and you shut your eyes. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, spread your legs for me,” he’d murmur in your ear, his chest pressed to your back and he’s urge your thighs wider, and his fingers would press against the wet patch on your panties, and he’d hum, “so wet f’me and I haven’t touched you yet, Princess,” his lips would kiss your pulse, “you like my voice that much?” 

“Professor,” you gasp, as his fingers would tease you through your underwear, the fabric growing more soaked by the second, “please—“ and his thumb would ghost around your clit, teasing you, as his long fingers would piston in and out — they would reach so much fucking deeper “I need to—“ 

“Already begging? I knew you learned fast, but not this fast,” and his fingers would tug the crotch of your panties aside, his fingertips tracing around your outer lips, before a finger pushes past your sweet cunt, “fuck, my favorite student’s pussy is so fucking tight. These boys are not fucking you right,” and you whimper, his finger would be so much thicker than yours, as you glide another finger inside you, the two dragging against your walls, “listen to your pretty cunt,” he’d grin against your skin, “and the wet squelch of your pussy, “so pliant for me, takes my fingers so well,” he’d murmur with a chuckle, “practically swallowing me up,” 

And you’re bucking your hips against him, wanting, needing him deeper, because your fingers don’t reach as far as his does, moans leaving your lips. 

“I’m so—” you’re moving faster and faster, his lecture still filling your ears, your pre-cum soaking your shorts and onto the bed sheets, “I can’t—” 

“Come on, Princess, use those big words of yours, you have no problem usually,” his hot words would whisper in your ear, and you’d hear him rub his erection against your ass, trying to get himself off, and you’d grind against him, wanting any friction, “tell me,” 

“Let me cum, please,” and he would smile, running his fingers through your hair, before he bore his thumb down on your clit and sunk a third finger into your needy cunt, just as you did now. And it’s too much for you, your toes curl, your messy walls fluttering around your fingers, as you cum all over your shorts and sheets with a groan of his name. Your fingers were soaked, as you pant, trying to gather yourself, as you came down from your high. 

“Fuck,” you murmur, tugging off your headphones, so your cunt doesn’t have to twitch listening to his dulcet words again. And you’re pulling your fingers out, your cum dripped down your fingers, as you shifted, far too wet underneath you, as you tried to slip off your bed to take a shower and clean yourself up. 

And then you realized, you didn’t even hear any of the lecture. 

Double fuck. 

Why was this so difficult? 

You stood near his office, trying to work up the urge to approach his door for office hours? Since it’s almost the end of the semester, there had been an influx of students attending office hours, and with everything, you had found excuses in your head to avoid office hours. But you couldn’t avoid him anymore. 

For your final paper in the class, you had to have a meeting with him during office hours to discuss your topic, complete with bibliography and outline. And it was almost time for your meeting. 

But you didn’t know how to go in. 

The last few weeks in class have made things worse. You couldn’t help but watch the other students fawn over Professor Geto, his lips curled as he spoke to them. And you’d leave class without a word. You had to stick through the semester and your feelings would disappear with time. You wouldn’t have to see him, you wouldn’t have class anymore, and you couldn’t talk to him. 

Or wouldn’t. 

But now you had to. And you didn’t know how— otherwise than just to do it. 

You knock at his door, “Come in,” and you open the door to see an empty desk, blinking, “I’m over here,”

And your head snaps to your right, and Professor Geto is sitting on his couch, his legs crossed with a stack of papers in hand. His jacket is slung over the side of the couch, his deep maroon button up sleeves rolled up, glasses perched on the tip of his nose. 

“I thought you lived at your desk,” you raise an eyebrow, “decided to change it up for the end of the semester?” 

“Everyone needs a change of scenery,” he leans forward, placing the stack of papers on the table in front of him, “do you want to sit here or move to the desk?” 

You shift in place, before moving to the couch beside him, “This is fine,” he stares, “what?” 

“Just surprised, you always have something to say,” he leans on his elbow, “no smart remarks today?” 

“Fresh out, can I offer you my proposal for the final paper instead?” You say dryly, and he cracks a smile, holding out your proposal. He clicks his red pen, readying his sword. 

He takes it, his dark eyes darting back and forth as he reads, his brow furrowed in concentration — and you can’t help but want to reach out and smooth his brow for him, tease him that he’ll get wrinkles. But you can’t. Can’t because that would cross a line that neither of you should cross. 

“You’ve come a long way,” he says, as he flips it back the front, writing only a few notes here and there. 

“But?” You wait for it. 

His gaze flickers up, a tilt of his head, “That was the end of my sentence,” 

You pause a moment, “Really?” 

“Really,” he scribbles a few more notes, “I look forward to reading the paper, it will be excellent I’m sure, maybe you’ll even get higher than a B+,” 

“Oh, ha, ha,” sarcasm dripping from your tongue, but you can’t help but smile, “you’ll miss me and my endless need for academic validation,” but was it really academic validation you were after now — your eyes gazed at him sitting with the tip of his pen pressed to his lips — or was it his? 

And it’s his turn to pause, and his lips curl into a soft smile, “I will,” 

Your breath catches, “Really?” 

He chuckles, “Really,” he licks his lips, his eyes glancing downward at your proposal than at your face, “I’ve enjoyed our chats this semester,” 

“Have you? Even when I argued with you,” a half nervous half serious laugh dies on your lips when his gaze meets yours, far too serious for your heart to take. 

“Especially then,” his fingers run through his hair a moment, before he speaks again, “I can’t say you could say the same,” 

“And why couldn’t you?” his eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t grasp fast enough, before it slips away into the depths of his dark irises. 

“Because you stopped coming,” his voice is soft, his tone barely even, and this gives you a real pause, heat flushing your body, as if his words had set every nerve ending alight, your mouth growing dry along with it, and it gives him a reprieve he needs to brush it aside, “you don’t have to, of course, these office hours are not relevant to your—” 

“I didn’t stop coming because I didn’t enjoy it,” you cut him off, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I stopped coming because I did,” 

He stares, “What do you—” 

“I don’t want academic validation anymore, I don’t care about my GPA,” you consider it a moment, “ok I do,” and he snorts, “but I care more about validation from you,” 

“From me?” he says, and his gaze tries to meet yours and it can’t — but his fingers brush against your skin, making your breath catch, your eyes finding his, “and what kind of validation do you want?” 

And you can’t find the words, and you hesitation makes him shake his head, “I apologize, I shouldn’t have—” 

“Will you have a drink with me?” and he’s speechless for once, “after the semester is over, of course — I know it wouldn’t be ethical before,” 

And his eyes find yours again, “Some would say it would be unethical after too,” 

“I would say it depends,” 

“On what basis?” and you can’t help but smirk. 

“Am I being graded, Professor?” and you delight in a small crack in his smiling veneer as a light flush dusts the tops of his ears, “and if I’m good, will you call me a good girl again?” 

He swallows, “I don’t want to cost you your education or your—” 

“I understand the risks, but we aren’t contemplating shifting a trolley to hit one person or five, or murdering one healthy person to save five sick ones,” and he raises an eyebrow, “it’s a drink to celebrate the end of the semester,” 

“And if it's something more?” he nearly whispers, the softness of his voice reflected in his features, as his fingers that rested on the couch twitched beside yours. 

“Then we’ll cross that bridge then,” and then you add with a small smile, “Or hit the metaphorical person with the trolley,” and it pulls at the corners of his lips. 

“You make a fair point,” and you gasp in mock surprise.

“The first time all semester you agree with me,” and he chuckles, a noise you wished you could hear him make innumerable times more. 

“Not the first,” he replies, before leaning forward, pressing your outline back into your hands, his fingers brushing yours, “we both agree you’re a good girl, don’t we?” 

And your breath catches, his words warm your skin, turning your blood to lava, “Professor,” and he smiles again. 

“When we go for drinks, call me Suguru.” 

~~~~ 

The semester wears on and finally draws to an end, but finals induced hibernation begins for you. A mix of papers and exams, you finish everything — including your paper for Professor Geto’s class. As always, he has you submit a paper and electronic copy, the paper copy to be dropped off at his office mailbox. And you do just that, the mailboxes being only around the corner from his office, and your heart squeezes at the thought of him. After this, the class was over, it was done. You weren’t his student anymore. 

And you place the paper into the mailbox and sigh, chewing your lip as you pass by his office, but find the door closed (and locked, as you quickly turned the doorknob to test it). Where was he? This was the time he was usually in his office, but maybe he had left campus for the semester — had he forgotten about your drinks? 

Fuck. You hadn’t even discussed a time or place, you had left it vague — “after finals.” Your cheeks burned at the memory, you were far too flustered to elaborate. And you had spent far too many nights imagining him calling you a ‘good girl’ in many other situations. 

And then you heard a call of your name, your gaze snapping up, your heart leaping, but only to see the department head. 

“Hi Professor, how are you?” and the two of you make polite chit-chat, until he asks you. 

“Have you applied to be a T.A. for the department?” and you blink, “applications just opened and I think from what I’ve heard about you around the department, I think you would be an excellent candidate.” 

“I’d love to be — how does the application process work?” and he explains that it’s a double blind process where applications are viewed without personal information of the candidates, and then matched with a professor based only on resume and writing samples. 

You can barely listen to the department head, still far too distracted with thoughts of Professor Geto — so you agree to apply, if only to placate the department head, and make an excuse to leave. 

It had been a week or so, as you lay in bed in your apartment, staring at your ceiling — you hadn’t even bothered to get Professor Geto’s personal number. You couldn’t even reach out to him if you tried, as the only way you could was through his university email, which was out of the question — the university had rules against a professor and student dating, and if anyone found that email — you sighed — it wouldn’t be good. 

Maybe it was for the best. 

The only communication you had gotten from him was an email from Professor Geto’s mailing list to the class from a few days ago, stating that he was out of state in a conference, and he would return soon, but your grades would be emailed to you. But the paper copies would be available to pick up in his office from 3:00 PM to 6:00 PM on Tuesday. It was almost time to pick up your paper, and your nerves bit at you as you thought about the possibility of seeing him. Who knows if he would even be there to begin with. 

Would it be anything? Would it be nothing? Was there not any point to this at all? 

Oh, great, you were becoming existential. 

You sat up, the only thing you could do was go. So you do, taking your time to get dressed. If you were going to see him, you might as well look your best. 

Fuck. You couldn’t go in. It had taken you longer to get back to campus than you thought, and now there were only a few minutes of his office hours left.

And you’re about to knock when the door opens, and you find yourself face to face with the man who has consumed every thought of yours for the last few months — good and bad alike. 

“Late again?” and you can’t help but smile. 

“I prefer fashionably late,” and his eyes rake over your outfit, making your cheeks burn. 

“You certainly are,” and he steps aside to allow you into his office, and you glance between the couch and the desk, but he makes the choice and sits at his desk, “I have your paper right here,” and he’s rifling through his file of papers, “how did your finals go?” 

“If I have an A on this paper, perfectly,” and a smile tugs at his lips, and you raise an eyebrow, “what? Something funny?” 

“Not at all,” and he pulls your paper out, ha “I just recall you saying you wanted something more than, what was it? ‘My academic validation?’” 

And your cheeks flush, “I did, but I also didn’t hear from you,” and your fingers reach for the paper, and he holds onto it, “Professor,” 

“I couldn’t reach out to you because I was still your professor, but once you get this grade, I’m not anymore,” and his gaze is sharper without his glasses today, his dark blue Henley doing nothing to help the flush on your cheeks — memories of your dreams flooding your mind, “and once you get this grade back, I’m not anymore,” 

“And what does that mean?” you can’t pull your eyes away from his, but his fingers let go of your graded paper, “how about you look at the last page of your paper and see?” 

You pull the paper into your hands, flipping to the last page: 

99 — I was impressed by this paper not only by the content but by its comprehension and use of both ethics and philosophy. But I was also impressed by the person who wrote the paper. You’ve shown determination and growth throughout the semester — and you have reminded me what we owe to each other. And I think we owe each other a drink, and a chance for this. 

You feel his eyes watch you as you read, your eyes finally meeting his — his brow knit together, his lips pursed, concentrated gaze trying to decipher your reaction. 

“Why a 99?” And his eyebrows raise, as if to ask, “that’s your question?” 

“You had some spelling and grammar errors,” 

“Really? You couldn’t let it slide?” And he tilts his head, before he sees your lips curling into a grin. 

“So you think it’s funny to mess with your professor?” And his voice drops, a playful tone that makes you nearly shiver, as he leans forward, resting his chin against his elbow. 

“You’re not my professor anymore, are you, Suguru?” he likes that by the way his teeth bite his bottom lip briefly, his eyes flitting to your lips for a moment and back to your eyes, “so I guess we’re using that trolley after all,” 

“If you want to,” he says softly, “I wouldn’t blame you if you change your mind, it’s a risk,” 

It was. It was a risk to your reputations, your careers, your futures — especially to yours. But, your eyes met his again. 

“Contractualism is about avoiding risk,” and he nods, as his gaze falls away, “but some risk is necessary in life, and I think this is one that’s worth taking,” 

“We will have to be careful,” he murmurs, but already his fingers are twitching, far too eager to touch you, “we can’t make any mistakes. I don’t want to hurt you,” he adds softly. 

“I know, I don’t want to hurt you either,” and you rise before slowly rounding his desk, “but I want to know what it’s like,” 

And he can’t stop himself — he gets to his feet, his fingers finding your cheeks and he kisses you. You can taste the black coffee on his lips, his kiss is gentle at first, so chaste and fleeting that you’d swear he didn’t kiss you at all — and so it’s not a second before your lips find his again, in a deeper kiss that steals every ounce of breath from your lungs, and leaves only heat behind. This was dangerous. The very risk you were both trying to avoid, but as he’s pressing you into the edge of his desk, you can’t find the logic you misplaced when those goddamn fingers you’ve been dreaming about squeeze your hips. 

“Fuck,” he’s panting — god that word sounded more sinful on his lips than it should — as he presses sweet kisses to your neck, “we shouldn’t be doing this here,” 

“Not very ethical,” you chuckle breathlessly, as your fingers rake through his now disheveled bun, “but I can’t find the sense to care,” your noses brush, as you can’t help but smile, “what would Scanlon or Kant say about this?” 

And his arms lift you onto his desk, several papers crumpling underneath, “Who the fuck cares?” he’s hissing, his lips find yours in a searing kiss, as his thighs press yours apart, as he settles himself between your legs, his knee grazing your core, drawing a delightful gasp from your lips, “I know what I want,” and his eyes soften, his fingers tracing the length of your cheek, “do you?” 

Before you can answer, two pings catch your attention — your phone and his computer lighting up with a notification, and you both pause a moment, as your eyes glance at the banner notification on your phone, skimming over the words. The T.A. positions have been assigned. 

“Fuck,” you hear him mutter, and you gaze snaps up to his on his computer, the email now opened on his screen, “this can’t be right—” 

“What is it—” and the question dies on your lips as your eyes find where his rested — 

You — you were his T.A. for next semester — for the very class that you met in. 

Fuck, indeed. 

✧ read part 2 now

✧ a/n: lets all remember that student and teacher relationships are bad in real life. it's ok to live vicariously through reader but unfortunately no professor will be as hot as professor geto or gojo T_T. s/o to @/laneymusings and @bucky-of-the-opera for beta reading this for me and being just absolutely wonderful!!

✧ tag list: @sokkasmoon, @unoriginalideas, @waytootiredforthisss, @sinnerstardoll, @secret-pages-of-my-heart, @drthymby, @hanlay, @catsgomurp, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @esuz, @difficultdomains, @poopyface222, @iwassentfromhell, @diogodxlot, @totallynotcc, @llovekami, @deadmarygolds, @teatreeoilll, @carcarcraziiv2, @forest-hashira, @aliyalala, @esuz, @that-goth-bisexual, @hehehehesthings, @imjustmememe, @j1jay, @iwassentfromhell,

[sakuravalelp]

The Dance Academy isn't a gang- DC X DP Prompt

Inspired by this prompt

Clockwork suggests to Danny, who's been the king of the infinite realms for 6 years now, that he should take sometime off in a mortal realm. He doesn't feel like going back to his own dimension (you choose the reason), so Clockwork suggest another dimension where he thinks Danny might have fun.

Danny investigates the dimension, and finds it is a dimension where some humans, who are called meta-humans, develop powers, mostly during their childhood. Danny knows how tiring and alienating it is to grow with powers that one have to hide. He wishes to give this kids a safe space to experiment with their powers, but not as a weapon, just as part of themself.

He chooses to create a dance academy, because dancing is something in which you use your body and express yourself. It would be an excellent way to encourage this kids to use their powers while enjoying themself. He decides to open the dance academy in Gotham, were it seems metas may feel more pressure to keep themself hidden. With his ability to see and feel the differences in soul it's easy to identify metas, so he starts scouting kids for the academy.

Of course convincing the kids that it's just a a dance academy that wants to create a save space for metas, instead is of a trafficking ring, is difficult. But once he gets the first couple kids in, slowly more come too.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Bruce is worried about the new possible meta gang that it's forming on Gotham, and sends Duke undercover.

It's hasn't been long since Duke joined the bats, and this is his first official undercover mission. He's excited at the start, feeling proud that he's been trusted with an independent job, but then he finds out that the "gang" it's just a dance academy. He's a little disappointed, thinking that this job is more of a probation thing than anything, since there isn't anything suspicious.

The bats tell him to stay in the dance academy, because maybe the dance thing is just a cover up and they'll reveal their real motives when he's actually accepted in the group. And Duke takes it as them wanting him to have a meta support system. See? He's learning to understand how the bats show love to each other!

Duke finds himself enjoying being in a dance group. It's a lot of fun. Danny it's fantastic, he has a lot of powers and isn't scare to show them. Which makes everyone in the group feel so much safer to use their own.

Danny encourages them to integrate their powers in their dance. It's freeing. Their powers are treated as a normal part of them, and not as this exotic ability that has to be controlled. It's such a safe space that all of them have gotten used to using their powers for day to day stuff when in the dance studio. It all feels so casual because no one bats an eye to it. There's no talk about how they should try to do things "normally," or limit their use of their power.

Danny: "Why would you? That's your normal, and this place is safe for you to just be you."

Duke realizes a bit late that the bats were actually suspicious of the group, and that his placement there wasn't really a probation. He's glad to know he was actually trusted with a job, but, he had really thought that every time they had asked about his day with the group was because they were interested in how he was doing. That they were showing love and interest in him in that evasive ways the bats did, and it kinda suck to know it wasn't the case. It also meant that he had to confront their family in their clear meta-discrimination.

"Would you have been so suspicious if it wasn't a meta group? No. Other than them all being metas there wasn't anything off. No proof of fights, no proof of robberies, no proof of trafficking, nothing.

There's no proof of anything other than a group of teens dancing, and you know that because you checked it out before sending me.

Like, I don't blame you for checking it, I'm not naive, but you were so sure it was a gang, just because they were metas. That's fucked up guys."

[anxiousbabybird]

Love and Deepspace men x fem!reader slightly unhinged HCs

I started Love and Deepspace yesterday so please have my slightly unhinged HCs for the men so far. And minors don’t you dare interact

Part 2

Rafayel

He’s a biter. Leaves you covered in marks from your neck all the way down your thighs.

Plans a date where he’s laid out a huge canvas on the floor of his studio, puts your fave color paint on your hands and his favorite color on his hands, plus several globs of the two colors across the canvas, and then proceeds to have the wildest three rounds of sex on that canvas as it gets progressively more covered in paint. Sells the painting for 6 figures a few weeks later and uses it as an excuse that you need to make more of them.

Tells you his best masterpiece is painting your body with his cum—got really into it once and dipped the paint brush into your cunt to collect his cum and then painted it across your breasts

Has a secret sketch book that’s nothing but pictures of you. Lots of them are of you sleeping when he can study your features but there’s still quite a few he drew from memory.

Made you lay down naked with your legs spread and be still so he could draw the most detailed image of your pussy you could possibly imagine. It’s his personal fave that no one besides him will ever see.

Sees shibari as a beautiful art form and likes to practice with you—has a whole album in his phone just of pics of you tied up all pretty for him

Rarely gets soft in a serious way, he much prefers the teasing back and forth you two usually have.

Xavier

He’s definitely broken into your room Edward Cullen style and watched you sleep

His favorite dates are taking you into the forest at night to watch the stars and moon together. Bonus points if you come across a wanderer and get to fight together.

Clingy after you become his, always wants to be touching you and doesn’t let you out of his sight (and yes that means sometimes he’s following you but it’s just because you’re brave and reckless and he worries)

When he eats you out, he holds both your hands in his for you to hold on to and does it with no hands—makes you cum more times on his tongue than you could fathom (and yes, he’s eating you for his pleasure)

Downloaded a tracker into your watch so he can know where you are at all times

Gets horny when he watches you fight and has def pulled you aside during a mission for a quickie in which you end up having your cunt stuffed with cum for the remainder of the mission

Such a cuddler but like a cat where he only wants to cuddle if he wants to—falls asleep nearly instantly in your arms like the cute sleepyhead he is

Zayne

Finds it so cute the first time he comes to your apartment and sees all the little snow creatures he’d made you sitting in a windowsill together. Makes you so many more after that. Sends you a bouquet of flowers made from his ice too (#Elsa)

Has food delivered to you at lunch on days he knows you’re super busy so you don’t forget to eat since you often forget to take care of yourself (he doesn’t mind too much since he likes that you let him take care of you)

Prefers kisses over hugs, except when he’s sad because of a patient (then he likes the warm comfort of your hugs)

Moves his glasses to the top of his head and rubs the bridge of his nose when he gets really stressed

Brings you a mild painkiller after blowing your back out, a smug but tiny smile on his lips, and tells you, “I was a bit rough so humor me and take this medicine. I don’t want you in excess pain because of me.”

Loves when you want to lay on his chest when he’s reading through cases and medical journals at night. He’ll read them out loud until you fall asleep and then finish them quietly as you snore softly into his chest

Calls you before a difficult surgery because your voice instantly calms him down

Into bondage—specifically he likes to tie you up so you can’t escape when he starts to overstimulate you. He really can’t help it, you just make such pretty noises for him when he gets you to that point that he has to keep going

Tags: @adaurielle @luffysprincess @seraphofthesimps

[sturnsdarling]

'Chris likes girls who don't like him back'

Late night streaming with your best friends turns to a conversation about the boys' type, and Chris gets called out

vibe check: flirty fluffy fun, 3/4 of my favourite f words

1.4k words

A/N: i had this idea literally straight away after what Matt said about Chris' type.........the idea of being Chris' best friend that he openly fancies but you're 'not interested' makes MY TOES CURL BRO LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING anyway I hope you love this. PART TWO IS INCOMING…

love and cigs, merc

"Matt he's right there what the fuck are you doing?!" you scream down the mic, nearly throwing your controller across the room as you jolt back in your chair.

You watch as Matt gets sniped in the head from the back, laughing as he wails on this desk, making the whole stream glitch and nearly crash. Chris is laughing along with you, trying not to make it obvious that he's watching you, and not Matt.

"Matt, bro you need to fuckin' up your game, y/n/n is actually carrying us right now." Chris says as Matt picks his chair up off the floor and sits back down in a huff.

"I always carry when I come on with you boys" you smirk, looking at the tiny square of Chris on your screen.

"yeah because you're a little sweat" Matt chuckles.

The boys had been streaming everyday for over a week now and, after some convincing, they managed to get you to join in on one of their games. At first you were apprehensive, obviously, but they explained that they were trying to diversify their platform and find a more mature audience so, actually interacting with girls on the internet was their first step.

You and the boys had been friends for forever, you met them through Nick in elementary school and had basically all been inseparable ever since, you'd been in some earlier videos but the fans back then made it very difficult to just exist around them so, you took it upon yourself to only exist in their real life, not their online one.

Cut to right now, you're nearly two hours deep in fortnite trios with the boys on stream, everyone was super excited to see you when they announced that they'd be joining and, other than a couple comments that you all ignored, it was going really well.

"Matt, someone asked what our types are" Chris laughed, reading the chat.

"I'm not answering that" Matt dead panned, screwing his face up at the camera

"I can answer it for you both, for sure" you chuckle, "chat do you want me to answer it?"

"yes, yes, yes, yes, omg yes" Chris was reeling off the answers in chat, "everyone wants y/n/n to answer, Matt should we let her?" Chris asked.

Matt rolled his eyes with a smile, "g'head, y/n/n, expose us" He chuckled.

"okay, so" you said, in your best girly gossip voice, "Matt likes nerdy, reader, soft girls" you begin to explain, your train of thought is interrupted by Chris erupting into laughter.

"dude she's so right! you love a girl that looks like she's always buried in a book" Chris wails.

"what are you guys even saying?" Matt complains, the smile etched across his face giving his tone a lot less power.

"you definitely want a girl who will go on a hike with you or some shit, Matt" You say, enjoying this whole interaction a bit too much.

Chris was keeled over in laughter, loving finally being able to talk about this kind of stuff on the internet without everyone going insane.

"I dunno why you're laughing so much, Chris, you're next" Matt states, Chris shrugs in reply.

"i don't give a fuck, call me out y/n/n, gimme the best you got" Chris sits back in his chair, arms folded over his chest.

"hmmmm" you say, exaggerating your thinking, "what is the famous Christopher Sturniolos type" you rub your chin, pretending to be thinking deeply.

A knowing smirk is spread wide across Chris' face as he stares at your face on his screen, tongue prodding the side of his cheek.

"I know Chris' type" Matt adds, a menacing smile on his face.

"g'head matt, you take this one" you gesture to the boy on your screen.

"Chris likes girls who don't like him back" Matts brows raise in accusation towards Chris.

You try and hide the smile forming on your face, attempting to look as focused on the game as possible as your tongue prods at your teeth. Neither of the boys say anything, both of them cheesing, Matt in a teasing and knowing kind of way and Chris more so in a 'I cant say what I wanna say' kind of way.

"damn, Matt, you just called me the fuck out" Chris shakes his head, looking to the tiny version of you on his screen.

You're still quiet, trying to fight the smile on your face and look as focused as possible, you catch Chris looking as if he's looking at you on his screen and shake your head with a chuckle.

"what you grinnin' at, kid?" Chris smirks.

You raise your brows, shaking your head with a downwards smile, "no, nothin', nothin" you say, returning your focus back to the game.

All of the viewers watched the interaction and were blowing up the chat with comments about how Chris definitely likes you, saying things like 'did you guys see that?!', and 'think they're slick look at how they're both smiling!!!!!'. Chris was reading the comments and trying to hide the red blush crawling its way onto his cheeks, Matt was relishing in the fact that Chris was so obviously nervous, and you were just trying not to react.

"Chris, dude, you better wipe that smile off your face, chat's onto you" Matt pokes the bear.

"chat ain't onto shit, Matt, shut the fuck up" Chris says, trying to be serious but unable to push his smile down.

"you know i'm right though, you do like girls who don't want you" Matt pushed on with his joke.

"Matt, shut your fuckin' mouth, dude" Chris rolled his eyes and shook his head, his smile still prevalent.

You couldn't help but laugh, still pretending to not care about the situation unfolding. In hindsight, it probably made it all the more obvious that you knew exactly what Matt was referring to.

"you're awful quiet, y/n/n, you got nothing to say on Chris' type?" Matt extends his joke over to you and your attention is immediately on him.

"nah, you hit the nail on the head, I think" you shrug, stretching back in your chair and adjusting your headset.

"oh really?" Chris replies, brows raised in accusation.

"mhm" you nod, faux innocently.

Chris kisses his teeth, nodding and trying to hide the smile on his face once again.

"yeah, chat, Matts right, I like pretty girls, who don't like me back" Chris says, subtly turning his attention to you and then back to chat.

You roll your eyes with a smile, leaning forward once more to lock into the game.

"you're ridiculous, Chris" Matt chuckles into the mic, watching you shift in your seat, trying not to blush.

The rest of the game went off without a hitch, you guys went on to win multiple times and all the viewers eventually stopped trying to get the conversation back to Chris' obvious crush on you. You played until the early hours of the morning, joking and laughing with the boys' just like old times and relishing in the fact that you were finally able to be a part of their online presence again. When it hit around three a.m you told them you had to sign off, explaining that you had to be up early for college that morning.

"guys, I gotta go, but I'll text you when I wake up" you said, pulling off your headset, and brushing your hair back with your hand.

"alright, y/n/n, thanks for helping us bury kids, its always a treat" Matt grinned at you, shooting you his token boyish smile.

"you know I live to humble kids on fort, Matt" You shrugged, putting on your best boyish persona, earning a laugh from Matt

"okay seriously, I gotta go, bye chat!" you smile, "bye boys" you go to switch off your computer but you're stopped by Chris booming voice.

"bye, beautiful" he says, a cheesy grin on his face.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as an uncontrollable smile finds your lips, "bye, Chris" you reply, switching off your computer.

The whole chat erupts with people losing their minds over Chris calling you beautiful, the boys say nothing, Matt just shakes his head, laughing at the chat as he watches Chris, grinning with pride and completely unashamed of his very obvious crush on you.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10