#i fucked this class up so hard and i emailed him apologizing and asking if i could find a way to make things up before end of session

[yrbutchgf]

this professor has no reason to be being this nice to me rn

[pandenewie]

08 - It’s Giving Control Freak

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Being a pushover is one of Jungwon’s many… quirks you could say. He often finds himself using his rare off-time running around and doing favours for anyone who asks. It’s not rare for him to spend his afternoons in a random classroom, offering his help to whatever teacher needs it - much like today.

Except Mr Jeon isn’t here yet, and as much as Jungwon wants to have faith in his friend Ni-Ki, the one who set him up with this task, it wouldn’t be the first time the younger boy had set him up.

The clock strikes 10 past 3 - marking a marvellous 15 minutes that Jungwon has been waiting. Just as he’s about to go home (setting a mental reminder to email Mr Jeon and apologize for leaving) the door to the classroom opens and shuts.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Jungwon’s eyebrows furrow at the familiar voice, turning around to see a confused Y/n standing by the door. “Uh… I’m waiting for Mr Jeon.”Jungwon says, a slight waver in his voice. This is the first time he’s even made eye contact with Y/n since their… disagreement. Let alone spoke to them.

“Mr Jeon hasn’t been here all week.” Y/n says blankly. Oh. Well… that would make sense. Jungwon isn’t in any of his classes, so it’s not like he would have known.

“That explains why I’ve been waiting I guess… but why are you here?” Jungwon asks. From what he knows, Y/n doesn’t hang around after school. They’re not in any clubs or extracurriculars, and they’re certainly not the type of person to offer up their time like Jungwon is.

“Detention.” Y/n mumbles, almost embarrassed. Jungwon’s eyes widen at their words… they got detention? He can’t help but feel a little guilty - as if it is his fault.

“Uh… can I ask why?” He speaks hesitantly. Y/n sighs, fidgeting with their top as they avoid eye contact. “Skipping class… yelling in the halls… and… dress code.” Y/n mumbles, their voice almost going silent at the last part of the sentence.

Jungwon doesn’t know what to say. Well, he knows what he wants to say but he likes to think that his self-control is impeccable. Another one of his quicks. Unfortunately, his self-control seems to have clocked out for the day. Four words leave his mouth before he can even fully comprehend them himself:

“I told you so.”

Y/n’s head snaps up at Jungwon’s words, their eyes narrowing as his own widen in shock. He didn’t mean to say that… at least not out loud.

“Oh fuck off, Jungwon.” Y/n scoffs, turning around to leave the classroom. “I’m just saying… actions have consequences.” Jungwon mumbles, his eyes widening even further when he realises Y/n heard him. He mentally curses at himself to stop talking.

In the blink of an eye, Y/n is face to face with Jungwon, their index finger jabbing at his chest as their words cut through the air. “I don’t need you to tell me that actions have consequences, I’m not an idiot. But if you would focus on something other than yourself for once, you would see that no one likes the dress code. I’ll get detention every fucking day if I have to until it’s changed. Because unlike you, I sacrifice myself for other people.” And with that, Y/n turns around to leave once more.

Jungwon is the definition of being stretched too thin, and for possibly the first time in his life, he feels his restraint snap. All senses of rationality go out the window as Jungwon strides towards Y/n, ripping their hand off the door handle and turning them around to face him.

“You have spoken to me maybe twice ever, and both times have done nothing but yell and insult me. Who the hell are you to say that I don’t care about people? Do you have any idea how hard I have to work? How many people depend on me?”

“Oh boo hoo. It’s almost like that’s your job, Jungwon.” Y/n spits. “You’re literally the president of the student council, you signed up for this!”

“Name one member of the council other than me.” Jungwon challenges calmly - a stark change from the aggravation in his voice just moments prior. Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, they’ve never seen him like this. He squeezes their wrist and they quickly try to rack their brain for an answer…

Nothing.

“Exactly.” Jungwon mumbles, stepping back from Y/n’s frame and collapsing into his previous chair. Y/n watches curiously as he buries his head in his hands, letting out a tired sigh.

“I know the dress code is unfair, Y/n. But I can’t fix that. Not when I have all this other stuff on my plate. So please just… leave it.” Jungwon sounds almost desperate, and Y/n mentally curses at themself as guilt starts to form in the pit of their stomach.

Their body seems to move on its own as Y/n cautiously takes the seat next to him. The atmosphere is awkward and uncomfortable, and Y/n has to bite back a snide comment. They’re not that mean.

Swallowing their pride, Y/n lets out a sigh before mumbling a quiet “I’m sorry”. They can practically see the way Jungwon’s body tenses up at the words. He hates it when people pity him - hates feeling vulnerable.

“You can… stop, y’know. It’s not your job to do everything.” Y/n says quietly. “Who’s gonna do it if I don’t? Jungwon asks, awkwardly shifting in his seat. “Even if I did… pull back. The guilt of not doing things is just as bad as the burnout of doing it all.”

Well… now Y/n feels like shit. They always assumed Jungwon did everything for selfish reasons - that he wanted to be the centre of attention, the one with all the praise. Little did they know, he does it all because he has to. He was right, Y/n can’t name a single other person on the council this year. They thought it was because Jungwon was stealing all the spotlight, but it’s actually because he’s the only one doing the work. Heck, he probably does more than some of the teachers do.

Glancing at the time, Jungwon sighs as he rises to his feet. “I should go, I’ve still gotta finish my essay for tomorrow’s class.” He says, causing Y/n to look up at him confused. “You have an essay to write, and yet you were gonna spend your afternoon helping some random teacher clean their classroom?” They ask in shock. Jungwon smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he nods. Y/n shakes their head, sighing as they go to move past him - knocking their shoulders together in the process.

“I don’t get you, Jungwon.” Y/n mumbles. The words cause an awkward chuckle to escape Jungwon’s lips. “That makes two of us.” He finishes his words with a sound of confusion as Y/n jingles the doorhandle once, twice, three times. 

“Is it jammed?” Jungwon asks curiously, moving his hand to push hard against the door. “Probably… yet another thing this stupid school needs to upgrade.” Y/n mumbles, ramming their shoulder against the wooden surface.

“You got a paperclip by any chance? Or like… a really thin pen?” Y/n asks, rummaging through their back to find any form of sharp object. Trust the one day they forget to bring extra bobby pins for the girls, to be the day they get locked in a room.

“Paperclip.” Jungwon says, holding the small piece of metal in front of their eyes. Y/n quickly takes the item from his hand, mumbling a quiet thank you which causes Jungwon’s ears to perk up - a small smile spreading across his face.

The smile quickly turns to a look of shock as Y/n stretches out the paperclip, quickly shoviving it into the lock. “Hey, wait… you’re gonna pick the lock?” Jungwon asks, pulling Y/n’s hand away from the door. “That’s destruction of poperty.” He adds, earning an eyeroll as Y/n yanks their hand out of his grasp. “Would you prefer we stay locked in here till tomorrow morning?” Y/n asks sarcastically. When Jungwon doesn’t respond, they go back to their task - the lock releasing with a click in no time.

As Y/n turns around to grab their bag, they furrow their brows at the sight of Jungwon crouched over a desk, writing what appears to be a note. “Watcha doing, Prez?” Y/n asks, pulling the piece of paper from his grip. “Writing an apology note for the broken lock.” Jungwon says matter-of-factly. He takes the paper back and grabs the tape from Mr Jeon’s desk, fastening the note to the classroom door.

“Oh my god, you really are a goody-two-shoes.” Y/n can’t help but laugh. “Oh, and here’s your paperclip back. Think of it as a souvenir.” They add with a wink, placing the broken paperclip in his hand before turning around to leave the classroom. Jungwon shakes his head as a small chuckle escapes his lips. He looks down at the paperclip sitting in his palm, before stuffing it into his pocket and following Y/n out the door.

The hallways are silent and dead as the two students make their way out of the school buildings. They walk side by side, but without spearing each other so much as a word or glance. Eventually, Jungwon breaks the silence with a sigh. Something Y/n has noticed he does a lot. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

Y/n can’t help the laugh that escapes their lips, causing Jungwon to look at them confused. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That was your definition of yelling?” They ask sarcastically, causing Jungwon to shrug. “Well… kinda.” He mumbles, causing Y/n to roll their eyes. “You really are too nice, aren’t you?” They ask before silence falls between them once more. A few moments pass before the peace is broken once again, only this time by Y/n:

“Just to be clear, I still don’t like you as a person.”

“That’s okay… the feeling’s mutual”

“Watch it, Yang.”

“Sorry.”

TAG LIST (closed): @kang-yeosangs-initials @kpopstanmeg @b1ndignity @soobiverse @dudufodd @mikadorbs @pagesofmiracles @tya0 @ilovewonyo @bringer-ofchaos @huening-ly @ifearjwn @callmeblondie @run2min @straykids-riley (can't tag) @rikimylove @chaechae-23 @lacimolela @n1ght-maring (can't tag) @luvvsjungwonn @yenqa @tzuyusluv @viyqe @vocaloshin @deadgirlwalking3

[harryforvogue]

i feel like yas and harry have a lot of tension when it comes to finals time with them studying and also being ta’s like anything will set them off especially yasmine! she can get snappy and after the week ends they’re like 🧍🏽‍♀️🧍🏻 . . so that happened

i feel like the fights they'll be having definitely starts with yasmine. she's the one who gets angry at the wildest thing and then it snowballs from there.

she slams her laptop shut. "can you stop breathing so loud?" she hisses, causing harry to take his earbud out.

"what?"

"you. are. breathing. so. fucking. loud. shut up!"

"i'm breathing like a normal person!"

"no you're not! you're doing it on purpose!"

harry's eyebrows go up. "you're joking right?"

"i don't see why we even have to study together when clearly you want me to fail! and i didn't ask you to come over. you just showed up!"

harry's speechless for a moment before he slams his own laptop shut and stands from her desk. "i can't deal with you right now. i came here for some fucking peace so i can grade all these late papers and you're on my ass--"

"maybe don't hand out extensions like candy and grow a backbone about deadlines!"

"now you're complaining about my teaching? it doesn't even have anything to do with you!"

"it does when i get emails about my students hearing about you being so lenient. and i have to reply to every single one of them saying no and then they argue with me and--"

"give them the fucking extension then, yasmine!" harry starts to pack his bag. she really doesn't like the way he says her name. it makes her angrier. "they're stressed out too! and you've got two weeks until final grades are due. give them a break!"

"i refuse to give students who don't make an effort in my class a break! they did this to themselves!" she watches him put his shoes on. "where are you going?"

he swings his bag back on. "out of here. you need to deal with whatever the hell is going on with you." she follows him to the door. "i'll see you after you've calmed down. fuck's sake." and then he leaves, the door shutting hard behind him.

a few days later, yasmine shows up to his door. he answers and leans in his doorway, clearly not letting her in. "yes?"

yasmine grits, "i'm sorry."

"oh yeah? for what?"

"for yelling at you."

"mm."

"and for telling you you breathe too loud. you don't."

harry reaches for the front of her shirt. he yanks her into his room and locks the door, pushing her against it. "apology accepted. just because i know how much you hate having to do that."

"you also said some mean things, by the way." she leans back when harry goes to kiss her neck. "you should apologize too."

harry hums. "i am."

[bloodyknucklesforme]

How Can I Make it Okay? | Price & Nina

When Nina feels like she can't go home she goes to Price's.

TW: mentions of attempted SA

She hoped the rain would rinse the smell of smoke out of her clothes. She hoped he hadn’t moved since the last time she visited. She hoped he was in the country. 

Her phone was off, she’d be inundated with calls and texts if it wasn’t. She trudged up to the front of the building, suitcase catching on the step. She’d been to London before but that was on school or family trips. 

J.Price scribbled on a peeling sticker. She buzzed his flat.

“Who is it?” His voice was gruff and staticky. She’d made a mistake. She hadn’t escaped, only delayed the inevitable. She knew her father would still be raging when she returned. 

“it’s..it’s nina. can i come in?” 

The door unlocked with a loud buzz. 

He was standing in the doorway as she got off the elevator.

“Suppose I have to call your mum back now,” he sighed, taking her suitcase from her. “She was worried to death about you.”

“I should have told her I wasn’t coming home. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” There was a set of sheets already laid on the couch. He pulled her into a hug. “Get dried off. Just finished making supper.”

He’d already set out towels in the bathroom for her. She pulled a jumper out of her suitcase and changed into it after drying her hair. 

John was sitting at the dining table, two plates already laid out. He’d made roast chicken with asparagus and potatoes. She always liked his cooking. 

“You going to me tell me why you’re here and not home?” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. She shrugged, moving a potato around her plate. “You can stay the whole winter holiday if you want but I need something to tell your mum.”

“I failed my classes.” 

“Did something happen?” His face softened, reaching across the table for her hand. 

A lot had happened. She and Kyle had broken up at the beginning of Summer when he went to basic training. Her university was away from home and she’d always had trouble making friends. She’d always had trouble with boys except for Kyle. She’d missed him, wanted to feel like someone liked her again. 

He sat behind her in Modern British Poets. He had a nice smile and always complimented her hair. They started dating by the end of September. It was before the end of October before it all ended. A night out to the pub, he’d helped her back to her room. He climbed on top of her, insidious whispers as he tried to stick his hands up her skirt. She shoved him off the bed. 

“Fucking cunt.”

The next day all her friends were now his, maybe they were never her friends. Rumors about her cheating on him floated about. More cruel ones followed. That she’d cheated on Kyle last year, that she was sleeping with the professors to get good grades, she’d bought her way into the school. 

She barely left her room. Staring up at the ceiling, ignoring texts from Kyle and calls from her mum. Her professor from Modern British Poets sent an email asking if she was okay. She didn’t want to sit in front of that boy again. 

“No. I just…I don’t know. I don’t really like my school.” 

“Can you transfer?” He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. 

“I just wasn’t planning on going back.”

“If that’s what you want.” He squeezed her hand. “I know your dad is hard to please but your mum would understand.”

“She wouldn’t.” She pulled her hand away. “She’s always on his side. Doesn’t matter what it is. It’s always him over me. I could be bleeding out and she’d apologize to him about ruining the carpet before she even looked at me. No one is ever on my side.”

“I am. I’m always on your side, love. I’ll talk to your mum for you.”

She embarrassedly wiped the tears from under her eyes. John got up and came around the table to hug her, rubbing her shoulders. 

Why was it so hard? She tried to be a good person, she didn’t understand why she kept losing people she trusted. What was she doing wrong? She kept thinking back to that October night, maybe she should have just let him do what he wanted. She would still have friends. She wouldn’t have failed. She would be at home with her family and not crying against her dad’s old friend. Why was he the only one who cared? Was it selfish to want more? Her chest was tight and ached. 

“When I was little the world felt so big and now it seems like it’s getting smaller and I feel like I’m gonna get crushed.”

“You’re okay, love. You can stay here as long as you need.” He rubbed the back of her head. “You’re safe with me.”

He got her ice cream once she stopped crying. Helped her make a bed on the couch. Watched a couple Doctor Who reruns. 

“You’re too old to be tucked in, I’m guessing.” He chuckled as she crawled under the covers. 

“If you want to, I can acquiesce.” John was always willing to do the things her father never did. He taught her how to ride a bike, took her fishing once, taught her how to drive. When a poem she wrote made it into a local literary magazine he bought two copies, one to keep and one to cut out and frame. 

He smiled and tucked the blanket underneath the couch cushions. 

“Get some sleep, love.” He kissed her forehead. 

“Thank you… for everything.” 

He ruffled her hair. 

“If something ever happens you know you can tell me. I won’t be cross with you. We don’t have to tell your parents. I can handle it.” He said. He spoke like Atlas, holding the world up on his shoulders even if it was just for her. “What other people decide to do is never your fault, Nina.”

“I know.”

He nodded.

“I’ll call your mum in the morning. Goodnight, Nina.” He turned off the light.  

"Goodnight, John." She replied and in a much softer voice, "I love you."

Tags: @queen-ilmaree@macravishedbymactavish@gogh-with-the-flow@water-bearz

[erodasfishtacos]

Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k 

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow. 

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek. 

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison  to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.” 

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.” 

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all. 

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

**

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.” 

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound. 

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.

[daechwitatamic]

Chapter 5: Childish || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: What Was Hidden (Masterpost)

Rating: explicit, minors DNI pls

Genre: college!au, angst, eventual smut, strangers -> friends -> lovers -> idiots -> lovers

Pairings: Taehyung x female reader, MYG x OC

Summary:  This is how it all starts: Taehyung is flunking Western Lit. You’re assigned to tutor him. His paper on Strindberg’s The Ghost Sonata could pass or fail him for the semester. As you and Taehyung slowly become friends, then more, you learn that there’s a lot more to him than you originally assumed. Together, you navigate your own experiences with the play’s themes: one’s “true self” versus one’s “shown self”, darkness behind the facade, and how people can be quite literally haunted - and it has nothing to do with ghosts.

//

In which you and Taehyung address what happened at movie night.

Chapter Warnings: language, kissing, bad rap lyrics… listen i tried my best ok

Word Count: 3.8k

Note: This is a duplicate of Chapter 5. Apologies if you already interacted with the first version - it wasn't showing up in searched tags. The Ghost Post for Chapter 5 is here.

I saw the sun and thought I saw what was hidden The Ghost Sonata | Scene III August Strindberg

Chapter 5: Childish

Sunday, November 18th

In the morning, Kiko’s bed is empty, so you text her, “Good morning???”

Instead of answering you with words, she sends you a Soundcloud link titled, Sirens [DEMO]  - MYG ft K!k0.

[9:02 AM] Kiko✌️: sry for bailing on the movie but we finished this

You scramble for your earpods, eagerly starting the track. The beat starts, fast and angry, and then Yoongi’s rapping starts.

All these months at sea have got me seeing shit I close my eyes and take an even bigger hit Your siren call has got my fucking guard up These last six months I’ve been so fucking hard up Snared by your beauty as you pass by Your siren song is just another goddamn lie I have heard you singing, each to each You’ve always been just outside my reach Part of me wants to let you drag me down Til human voices wake us and we fucking drown I’m powerless to fight it, I refuse to try Your siren song is just another goddamn lie

The chorus starts, and you hear Kiko for the first time. Her voice comes in sweet and steady, definitely her, haunting as it traverses the minor key.

“Holy shit,” you say out loud, pulling out your earpods and scrambling up the ladder to Bridget’s top bunk. She whines in complaint as you scoot in next to her, poking her arm.

“Wake up, you have to hear this,” you tell her. “Look at our baby go!”

[9:10 AM] You: omg omg omg that’s so good i literally woke b up to listen to it too

[9:11 AM] You: she hates me but she loves the track

[9:12 AM] You: your VOICE iasnfoiajefjef 

[9:14 AM] Kiko✌️: thaaaanks 🥺🥺🥺

[9:16 AM] You: if he gets famous w that hes gonna get a cease and desist letter from Eliot’s people lmaooo

[9:19 AM] Kiko✌️: ????

[9:20 AM] You: ts eliot? the poem?

[9:22 AM] You: ‘i have heard them singing, each to each’

[9:23 AM] You: ‘til human voices wake us and we drown’

[9:24 AM] You: they’re from that longass ts eliot poem idr the name of it

[9:25 AM] You: hold on im looking it up

You send her the link to The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock and click your screen off. 

“You think he wrote that about her?” Bridget muses, eyes still closed.

“No way,” you say. “You’d have to have some serious audacity to ask a girl to feature vocals on a track you wrote about trying to resist her charms…”

“Maybe he has a lot of audacity,” she murmurs. 

You kick your way under her blankets - your feet are freezing - and put your earpods back in, turning your screen back on to listen to it again.

Monday, November 19th

Monday brings sunshine, even if it is freezing cold. You’re leaving your final class, your laptop bag heavy on your shoulder, when a phone call comes in from Bianca.

“Hey, Y/N,” she says when you pick up. “I figured this would be easier than emailing back and forth five times. I’m trying to reschedule your session with Taehyung. Are you feeling better?”

“Oh,” you say, stomach dropping. Good, now that you and Taehyung aren’t speaking you can spend an extra hour alone with him! “Yeah, I’m all better. Thanks.”

“Great,” she says. “Can you do tomorrow morning? I know it’s kind of late notice,” she says apologetically.

“I’d have to be done by ten for class,” you tell her. 

Bianca schedules you for nine the next morning, and tells you she’ll email you both to confirm. 

You’re at dinner with Bridget that night when Taehyung texts you about it.

[7:55 PM] Taehyung: hi. Would you be okay with doing tutoring at the coffee shop tmrw instead of the library

[7:56 PM] Taehyung: i have class at 10 and its closer to the academic buildings

You wave your foot around in discomfort. You hate knowing you hurt his feelings. He’s obviously upset, or this would’ve been a facetime call. 

[7:59 PM] You: yep. See you at 9.

He doesn’t answer.

Tuesday, November 20th

When you reach the cafe in the morning, Taehyung’s already in a booth, books open on the table. You pause at the edge of the table, and he looks up at you, but doesn’t say anything.

“Morning,” you said uneasily. “I’m gonna get in line and order my coffee, and then we can start?”

“Sure,” he says, and goes right back to highlighting the Strindberg text. 

You frown, crossing your arms. “Is this how it’s going to be for the whole hour? Are you even going to speak to me?”

“If I need help with the work,” he allows, eyes still on the text.

“Taehyung,” you say, frustrated, “don’t be childish -.”

“I’m being childish?” he echoes, eyebrows raising indignantly. “You started the cold shoulder shit just because I dared hang out with a friend when we -.”

When we… aren’t anything in the first place. You know that’s the end of the sentence. You know that’s the truth. There was nothing between you two but potential, but that had spoiled now. You don’t wait for the end of the sentence. You turn on your heel to leave.

“Wait,” he says quickly, and reaches for your hand, holding your fingers tightly. “I’m sorry. Don’t leave.”

You stand there, his fingers still clutching yours, frozen. His hand is warm on yours, his eyes intense, and you feel like he could just tug you right down there next to him with very little effort. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “Let’s just… I’ll work on the paper. Let’s just… work.”

You don’t really have a choice. You’re contracted for an hour. Pursing your lips, you set your bag on the empty bench. 

“I’m going to order my coffee,” you tell him quietly, and he nods, finally dropping your hand. When you return, you settle in and get your laptop running. 

“Okay,” you say, eager to put the arguing behind you and get to work. “What step of the paper are you on? Isn’t it due this week?”

“Yeah, by Friday at midnight,” he tells you. “I’m just done taking my notes for the disillusionment theme and then I can start typing it up.”

“How can I help today?” you ask.

He frowns, sliding the Strindberg text between you. “I was looking at his last little bit here,” he says, pointing with his capped highlighter. “I saw the sun and thought I saw what was hidden - I was going to write about the word thought - like, he thought he knew what was there, he thought he was seeing something hidden that was beautiful and good. Like, he saw the darkness behind the facade, but then the sun shone on this spot and he thought that behind the darkness there was still something good… but he was wrong.”

“Tae,” you say, quietly. 

He gives you a warning look. “Don’t,” he says. “Focus on the paper. Am I onto something worth putting in the paper?”

“Yeah,” you say, begrudgingly. “It’s good.”

He nods and writes something down in the notebook he has open next to the text. When he’s done, he opens his laptop and gets typing away. You drop your eyes, focus on your coffee. 

He types for about fifteen minutes and you don’t talk as he works. When you hear the sound of clicking keys stop, you glance up to see if he needs to be reminded to focus, as he asked.

But instead of looking distracted - out the window, or at his phone - he’s looking at you. He’s pouting, lips protruding, and it’s so fucking cute that it makes you feel angry.

“What?” you snap, but you’re fighting a smile. 

“I can’t stand that you’re mad at me,” he admits. “I should have told you I had a girl at the house, that it was a friend. I’m sorry. I know that we aren’t… y’know… but if I’d run into you with a guy like that I think I’d…” He trails off, half-formed thoughts tripping him up. “It would have felt bad. And I did not mean to make you feel bad.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “You can do whatever you want. You owe me nothing. I shouldn’t have gotten upset. I was trying to be chill about it and just… failing miserably.”

“You don’t send someone homemade soup and then show up with another girl,” he says, shaking his head. “I screwed up.”

“You didn’t,” you tell him gently. “It’s fine. I’d like it if we just… moved on.”

–

By the time your hour is up, Taehyung has finished typing most of the paper. You make him promise to finish it and send it to you to look over before your normal Wednesday morning session tomorrow.

You gather up your things and wait as Taehyung does the same. Once you’re both ready, you turn and walk towards the door; you both have class right after, and you’re in a bit of a hurry to make it on time. 

The line of students trying to grab a coffee before the ten o’clock classes start is quite long, reaching almost to the door. And at the end of it stands Davis.

You drop your eyes quickly, as if seeing him would make him more likely to see you. You scrunch down into your sweater, hiking your bag higher on your shoulder, and pick up your pace. 

Taehyung is suddenly beside you instead of behind you, his arm around your shoulders, pulling you tightly up against him as you walk side by side. He’s warm and solid against you, and you feel the tight fist that had been wrapping itself around your lungs release a little bit. It just feels instantly… safer. You keep your eyes down, but you feel Taehyung turn to look at Davis as you pass by. He reaches forward to open the door, and you step through together.

“Thanks,” you mutter, still watching the very fascinating pavement. 

“You have to stop running from him,” he tells you seriously. “He’s garbage, and you’re…”

You’re what?

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t let him get to you like that,” he amends. 

You scuff your sneaker along the path. “Which way are you going?” you ask him. 

“Pastorino Building,” he tells you, pointing.

“Me too.”

When he holds out his hand for you, you take it. 

--

[11:44 AM] Taehyung: you finally took me off of read, huh?

[11:52 AM] You: ???

[11:54 AM] Taehyung: insta

[11:56 AM] You: lol oh

[11:57 AM] You: yeah u earned it i guess

[12:00 PM] Taehyung: “i guess” o ok then 🙄

--

[12:11 PM] Nina💕: y is ur new man messing with Davis????

[12:14 PM] You: 100% honesty, i have nooooo idea what ur talking abt

[12:16 PM] Nina💕: walking around campus giving him dirty looks nd shit, real mature

[12:19 PM] You: omfg. i need everyone to grow the fuck up pls. 

[12:20 PM] You: knowing davis and knowing taehyung, i’d guess they saw each other ONCE and if tae didn’t smile then davis went and cried like a fucking baby 

It’s almost twelve hours later, after you’re in bed working on getting sleepy, that you realize that Nina had said “your new man” and you’d done nothing to refute this.

Fuck.

Wednesday, November 21st

You’re - stupidly - excited for your tutoring hour on Wednesday morning. You don’t know what is starting with you and Taehyung, but something is. But when you arrive at eleven on the dot, he’s not there. He’s still not there five minutes later, and you shoot him a quick text - “we on for tutoring?” 

Two minutes later, he comes up behind you, practically panting, a paper travel mug in each hand.

“Sorry,” he says, “I was already running a minute or two late because the line was so long, and then I got here and I couldn’t open the door -.”

You crack up, reaching to take the cups from his hands and place them on the table. 

“Did you bring me coffee?” you ask accusingly, a smile creeping across your face.

“I’m still trying to make up for Saturday,” he says with a laugh, pulling out a chair on the other side of the table.

“You have already, and then some,” you tell him seriously.

“I hope I ordered it how you like it,” he says sheepishly.

“I’m not picky,” you assure him. “So, what are we working on today?”

“All business, huh? Even when I bring you coffee?” he teases, eyes crinkling. 

“I’m all business when I’m on the clock,” you agree. “Talk to me in fifty-three minutes and I can be more fun.”

“You’re fun anyway,” he says, eyeing you sideways as he takes out his laptop. “Anyway, I finished the paper last night. Can I send it to you now? Then I can start my Chekhov reading while you look it over?”

“That sounds perfect,” you tell him. “Chekhov, huh? Three Sisters?”

"Cherry Orchard," he corrects you.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” you tell him. “I’m excited to see what you think. I do like Three Sisters better, though, if I had to choose.”

“I don’t get to choose,” he says lightly. “I just sent you the paper, did you get it?”

“I’m surprised you even know how to use the school email,” you murmur without thinking, eyes on your screen, and you’re surprised when he laughs, one hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Sorry,” you laugh. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Oh, but it’s fine if you think it?” he challenges, raising one eyebrow. Something stirs in your stomach. 

“Shut up and do your reading,” you say, laughing, doing your best to ignore the flutter of attraction. 

When your hour is up, you walk together towards the cafeteria as you have on other Wednesday mornings. But instead of splitting up, Taehyung raises that eyebrow at you again, as if issuing a dare. 

“Want to sit together?” he asks.

You grin. “Yeah,” you say. “But you might have to deal with my roommates when they figure out I ditched them.”

Thursday, November 22nd

Thursday is cold, but the sun shines brightly, so you decide to walk at your trail between your morning class and your afternoon class. It’s too cold to sit on your bench for long, but at least the walk will give you some exercise, and some good thinking time. Your mind is disgustingly full of Taehyung - the easy back and forth you have, how shockingly different he is from your expectations, the fucking cute way he pouts as he eats, the sexy way he rolls his tshirt sleeves, the way his smile will start so tentatively and then blast full-wattage out of nowhere.  You walk quickly, the cold hitting you sharply, like a slap in the face, and you need it. It knocks some sense into you. You’re a fucking mess, and you feel a little out of control with it. 

You head back to your room to take a quick shower before your 2:30 class, opting to skip lunch. You haven’t eaten since breakfast, and you know you won’t be able to eat until tutoring ends at 7. You wonder if you’d be able to talk Taehyung into doing tutoring from the cafeteria.

You somehow manage to make it on time for Becky at 5:00, barely, but you’re starving by the time Taehyung plops down in the seat across from you.

You tell him hello absently, already digging in your bag for your wallet, ready to ask him if he’d mind doing tutoring somewhere with food.

“Oh, goddamn,” you murmur, shifting your laptop out of the way and scraping around the bottom of your bag.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks, peering at you.

“I can’t find my wallet,” you tell him, starting to take things out of the bag one by one. Then suddenly you freeze, your wide eyes meeting his across the table. “Oh shit,” you utter. “I think I dropped it at the trail.”

“The trail?” he echoes.

“The walking trails over at the nature preserve,” you clarify, still horrified. “I went walking there before class and I had my wallet with me then, and now that I’m thinking about it, I didn’t have it when I packed my bag for class.”

Taehyung looks at you, calculating. Then he nods and says, “Okay, so let’s go get it.”

“What?” you say, sure you misheard him. “Now? It’s dark. And freezing.”

He shrugs. “We’ll bundle up. It’ll be fun, like a little adventure.”

“Trespassing on closed trails in the dark - in snow temperatures - does not sound like an adventure,” you tell him. 

“Come on,” he goads. “What else are you going to do? You’re in classes until it’s dark tomorrow, you won’t be able to go look.”

You frown at him. “How do you know my class schedule?”

“I pay attention,” he says, waving a hand at you, like this is insignificant. “So? We’ll use our phones and follow where you walked. It could still be there.” 

You stop to consider it. You could just consider it a loss - freeze your credit card, replace your drivers license. Or you could wait and see if anyone turned it into the police or campus security. Surely, this isn’t so pressing that you need to go now.

But.

But, going for a nighttime walk with Taehyung - even if it is fucking cold out - does sound kind of exciting. 

“What about tutoring?” you ask, resolve crumbling.

“We’ll talk about Ibsen the whole time,” he says, already starting to pack up his bag. “Come on, there’s a parking lot at the trailhead, I’ll drive us over.”

There are no other cars in the lot when you park - probably because the whole nature preserve closes at sundown, which was about three hours ago. Taehyung turns off the car and you both get out, turning the flashlights on your phones on. You guide him to the trail you took, and walk in silence for a few minutes, beams crisscrossing the trail as you go.

“I turned my paper in yesterday,” he tells you. You’re shivering a little, searching the edge of the path. “Two days early. Do I get extra points for being early?”

“No,” you tell him flatly. “But yours will be one of the first she grades. I’m excited to see her feedback.”

“She’ll probably think I cheated,” Taehyung laughs. 

“No,” you disagree. “It definitely still sounded like you wrote it. Your voice came through.”

He looks at you across the path, only a silhouette from your phones illuminating patches on the ground. In the dark, you can’t make out his face at all, can’t read his eyes or his expression. 

“You did a good job,” you reassure him again. “It was well written.”

“Thanks,” he says finally. 

You walk in silence a little longer. You can’t see anything except the small circle on the ground from your phone, and it’s eerie. You’re glad Taehyung is with you, but you’re half tempted to step closer to him, to walk in his wake instead of on your own. You shiver again, your face aching from the cold, your fingers going numb. 

This was probably a dumb idea. 

You reach your bench and you hurry over, sure that if your wallet fell out of your pocket it would have been while you were seated. Sure enough, you find it under the bench, in a small tuft of dead grass. It occurs to you that Taehyung is here in your most sacred thinking spot, but you’d never brought Davis here even though you’d been dating for almost two whole school years as students here.

“Got it!” you cheer, turning to find Taehyung by the location of his phone’s light.

He comes up next to you, putting his hands on your upper arms. You’re still shivering slightly.

“You cold?” he murmurs, and you’ve never heard that tone of voice on him before. It’s low, almost guttural, and your body responds to it immediately, the blood rushing away from your head. 

“Mhm,” you say, not trusting yourself to try and form words. 

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in, and you lean in, soaking in his warmth. This is fine - this is nice - but then he moves a hand to gently tip your chin up and leans in to kiss you. His lips are soft against yours, but his kiss isn’t. As soon as he can feel you kissing him back, he reaches both arms around you again, tugging you tight against him as your lips crash together. 

You manage to sneak a hand out of his tight embrace and curl your fingers through the wavy hair at the nape of his neck; you tug just a little and his mouth opens for yours, a tiny groan escaping him as if against his will as his tongue touches yours for the first time.

Everything about the kiss is slow but purposeful, intense in its lack of frantic energy. He kisses you like he’s got his whole life to keep it up, like there’s no reason to rush when he can take it this slow and feel everything, notice everything, love everything that you do.

You bring one freezing hand up to touch his jaw, your thumb rubbing a gentle line along the bone, and he shivers under your touch. He moves to tangle one hand in your hair, and suddenly it’s an entirely different kiss, all the energy and aggression that he seemed to be holding back earlier now bursting forth.

You appreciate the variety.

You release his hand and clutch the front of his zippered winter coat, pulling him closer, though it doesn’t seem possible. You want him closer. You want him to kiss you for a hundred more hours. 

He nips your bottom lip and you whimper without meaning to; he groans again in response to this, moving to kiss a line down your jaw and down to your neck. The air is instantly freezing in the wake of his hot mouth, and you shudder in his hands. 

When he finally pulls away, leaning back to look at your flushed face, he asks, “How about now?”

You laugh, once, and whack him in the chest. “A little better,” you admit. 

He presses his forehead to yours and inhales deeply. “I would like to do that again��without the puffy winter coats on,” he tells you.

You laugh again, stepping back a little bit. “Okay,” you tell him. “I think that can be arranged.” 

Next

Thank you so much for being here! I appreciate every single like, reblog, dm, ask, or reply!

As always, a million thanks to @kookstempo for being an expert turkey-wrangler and also for beta-ing!

[tom-holland-parker]

I Wanna Wear Your Tie

Request: Can you please do a professor tom x student reader, she’s of age of course, and he takes a liking to her for being so smart and he can barely contain himself with every outfit she wears. And one day after class he asks her to hang back and things get very SMUTTY?

Warning: 18 + SMUT (oral, choking, vaginal sex), student/teacher relationship, cursing, age gap (legal)

Pairing: Professor!Tom x Student!Reader

Word count: 4081

Masterlist

Tom knew from the first time you walked into class he was going to have a hard time. Not because you were a trouble maker, he heard from your other professors that you were an extremely bright and well rounded student, but because you liked to wear the shortest sundresses he’d ever seen. Tom knew he fucked up by developing a crush on his student. It was immoral and he could lose the job he worked so hard to get. 

Tom had been staring at the email all weekend, debating all his choices. He knew the right thing to do was to report it and let the school handle everything, but a big part of him told himself to do otherwise.

Dear Professor Holland,

I want to wear your tie while you fuck me

Love Y/N

Tom let out a deep breath as he rubbed his eyes, refreshing his inbox once more in hopes you had sent another email, an explanation or maybe even an apology, anything that would avoid him having to send the response that he had drafted Friday night after he received your message. Of course as the hours passed he knew that hoping was pointless, Tom sighed looking over his drafted email for what seemed like the 100th time before hitting send. 

Ms. Y/L/N

In regards to your last email I have no choice but to report it to the school. I do, however, acknowledge that you are one of my highest scoring students so it is only fair that I give you a chance to explain yourself. Please meet me in my office Monday after class

Professor Holland

Little did Tom know you were freaking out, spending Saturday nursing your hangover from partying Friday night. It was a drunken mistake, you would’ve never sent the email had you been sober but leave it to the vodka to let you do something stupid.

You had one day to come up with some apology and still couldn’t find the right words. Countless drafts saved in your notes app, but none good enough to express the regret you felt by sending that email. Of course time wasn’t on your side and the hours moved faster than usual. Finally it was Monday afternoon and you sat in your door waiting for your final class of the day, his class

“Maybe if you just tell him it was a mistake he’ll understand” Your roommate Kendra laughed as she looked at your computer, you’d been rereading the email for hours, hoping it would go away. Glancing at the clock you sighed, “I have his class in an hour, how am I going to face him”

“You could skip”

“I’m already in enough trouble as it is I can’t skip class” You sighed, closing the laptop as you moved to put on your shoes, “I’ll just give the best apology he’s ever heard of and hopefully it’ll all work out”

Kendra chuckled, “who knows maybe you’ll get exactly what you wanted”. You rolled your eyes, “I’ll text you after class”

///

Tom watched as you entered class, his eyes trailing over your outfit, you were wearing his favorite dress, white with blue flowers. He chuckled at your innocent appearance but frowned when he noticed you taking a seat in the back instead of your usual seat in the front.

You showed up to class right on time, looking at your feet to avoid any eye contact with Tom. It was hard to concentrate when all you could think about was that stupid email. It didn’t help that he was wearing a tie today, the same tie you’d imagine him gagging you with on most nights. You shook your head trying to focus on forming an apology that wasn’t absolutely pathetic

“Alright class is over, If you have any questions about the assignment you can” his gaze shifted towards you, “email me”

Your eyes widened as you distracted yourself by putting your things in your bag. As if the universe wanted to see you completely embarrass yourself in front of the teacher you’d been crushing on all semester, you piled out the class with the rest of the students, trudging down the hallway towards his office. You stood outside the door for a few minutes, pacing back and forth as you tried to compose yourself. You took a deep breath, gathering all your courage as you knocked on the door 

“Come in” You heard his muffled voice from behind the door. You took a deep breath as you twisted the door knob walking into the well lit office. 

“Hi Professor, you said you needed to see me” You say trying to seem innocent. He cleared his throat pointing to the leather seat in front of his desk, “Please have a seat” 

Slowly you make your way to the seat, placing your bag on the floor as you stare at him. Tom took a deep breath, opening the email as he passed you his laptop, “When I get an email from my brightest student I expected a question about her latest essay not this”

Your face heated in embarrassment as you handed him the laptop, “Professor I’m so sorry I was very drunk Friday night and I know that isn’t an excuse but I didn’t mean to send that. If I could take it back I would just please don’t report this”

Tom watched as tears slowly began to trail down your face, “y/n I’m not going to report you”. 

You looked at him in disbelief, “Seriously”

“but you’re not getting off that easily” He closed his laptop, “You’ll be spending the week and your weekend helping me grade papers”

You let out a sigh of relief, “thank you professor I’m really sorry it ever happened”

Tom chuckled, “You’re one of the smartest girls in my class. I would hate to see you get in trouble because of one drunk mistake” You wiped your tears away, feeling yourself relax now that you knew you weren’t going to be in too much trouble. “After all you’re only young once, just try to keep your thoughts in a diary and not your emails”

You chuckled, picking up your bag as you got up to leave, “will do professor”

///

Tom instantly regretted his decision. Don’t get him wrong, having the extra help was amazing but it was hard to concentrate when all you wore were short dresses. He spent all week sitting at his desk, too afraid to get up for fear that his body would betray him and you see the hard on he was trying desperately to get rid of. Seeing you in class was hard enough but when he watched you in what seemed like your natural element it changed something in him.

He watched as you sat on the couch in his office, your hair tied back and your glasses slowly sliding down your face, every once in a while you had to push them back in place. Tom couldn’t help but smile at the faces you made while reading the essays, a look of annoyance when you read over an obvious mistake or the way your eyebrows furrowed when you wrote the feedback. He tried his hardest to keep his laughter inside whenever you got distracted and drew little faces in the margins. He hated to admit it, it made him feel terrible, but he was a professor falling for his student

“Professor I’m not sure about this” You said getting up from the couch as you walked towards his desk. Your voice knocked him out of his trance as he watched you hand the paper to him, “See the evidence goes along with the topic sentence but the explanation is still choppy” 

You watched as Tom took the paper from you, your breathing hitching when his hands grazed over yours. You shook your head reminding yourself that you were already here because your stupid feelings and if you kept letting yourself indulge in what was supposed to be your punishment you were going to end up in the deans office.

“I see what you mean,” Tom said looking over the paper, “just circle the paragraph and place it in the pile and I’ll look over it later.” He looked up, surprised to see how close you were to him, your chest inches away from his face. It was just his luck that you decided to wear a low cut dress today.

“Okay” You replied, taking the paper from him as you slowly moved back to the couch. Tom glanced at the clock noticing how late it was getting, “Well it’s getting late and you probably want to spend the you weekend somewhere way entertaining than here so you can leave, punishment over”

“Are you sure? I still owe you two more days and it doesn’t feel fair to end my punishment early” You said, grabbing another paper. You weren’t sure if you wanted to stay because it actually felt unfair or if you really just wanted an excuse to keep spending time with him. 

“Well if you insist, '' he chuckled, a part of him happy that you weren’t eager to leave, “But we can finish this tomorrow afternoon, I’ll walk you out”

You gathered your things, meeting Tom at the door where he waited for you, his hand resting on your back as he guided you out the room, locking the door behind him. “It’s dark, I’ll walk you to your car, Where are you parked?” Tom said looking at the parked cars on the street

“I don’t drive” You said awkwardly, “But my dorm is only a few blocks away from here I don’t mind walking”

Tom shook his head, “No way I’m letting you walk, it's too dangerous, I’ll drive you.” You watched as he took his keys out his pocket unlocking the black BMW parked across the street.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get in the way” you looked down on your feet, here you were again too flustered to even look at him. Tom chuckled at your nervousness, “Don’t worry about it. I insist on it.” Your breath hitched as he placed his hand on your back again, guiding you towards the car.

It only took a few minutes for him to get to your dorm building, “well here we are” He said, parking his car before looking at you. You glanced at him nervously, “Thanks Professor”

“Call me Tom” he chuckled, “But only when were alone”

You wanted to punch yourself for feeling butterflies but you couldn’t help it. “Well Tom” You laughed, calling him by his name felt weird, “thank you”

He watched as you moved to grab the door handle but froze, “Oh I forgot to ask you about your assignment”

“What’s up?” he shrugged. “Well I know you wanted us to write about how the author uses the women in his novel to display power but I can’t write about that. The author clearly doesn’t see the woman as symbols of power he sees them as sex objects, which is shown multiple times throughout the text so I can’t write about something that isn’t true”

“So you don’t believe sex is a form of power?” Tom questioned trying not to smile at the way your brows furrowed in concentration

“Of course I believe sex is a form of power but for the author to display women having sex as a symbol for powerful femininity the woman would have to own their sexual desires and wants”

Tom chuckled, “If you really feel so strongly about that then write about it, I’d love to hear more about what you have to say about owning your sexual desires. Seems to me you know a lot about that” 

“Oh my god” You hide your face in your hands, “I didn’t even realize-”

“Don’t be embarrassed, if you can’t joke about it then you’ll let it eat you alive” Tom chuckled

“Well” you smiled, “I should probably get to writing”

“Yeah you should”

You both didn’t even noticed the way you both began to slowly lean into each other, the tension in the car growing thick

“Goodnight professor”

“It’s Tom” He said with a smile

You scrunch your nose, “Goodnight Tom”

Your faces were inches away from each other. He couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at your lips before looking back at your eyes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t do the same, “Goodnight y/n”

You both stayed silent, letting the tension take over. Your lips grazing over each other. The kiss was slow at first but it soon progressed into passionate open mouth kisses, both of you giving into your desires.

Your hands reached to grab his face, shocked at how soft his cheeks felt. “Wait wait wait” Tom said, pulling away slowly. 

You caught your breath, wiping your lips as you moved back into your seat, “I should probably go”

Before Tom could say a word you were out the car rushing towards the dorm building. “Fuck” he said to himself as he leaned back into his seat. He knew he’d fucked up, but he couldn’t help the way he felt when he kissed you.

///

When you knocked on Tom’s office door the next day you were even more nervous than you were Monday. You were too embarrassed and instead of facing the problem head on you did what you did best, ignored it. 

You spent the afternoon on the couch, headphones on as an excuse to block out Tom. If you had a question you didn’t ask it and when you had a comment you didn’t say it. It was pure torture for you and Tom, yet you both chose to ignore the elephant in the room.

As the hours passed and the sun began to set Tom’s patience was growing thin. He couldn’t pretend like the kiss never happened, and if he was being honest with himself he wanted more.

You sighed in frustration, as hard as you tried to concentrate on the papers in front of you, you just couldn’t. Thoughts about last night flooded your brain making it hard to concentrate on even the simplest sentences. You threw the paper on the couch, ripping your headphones off, “I’m sorry but this silence is killing me, can we just get this awkward conversation over with”

“Alright well” Tom stared at you, unsure what to say. Yes he felt wrong but he also didn’t care. He got a taste of you and now he wanted more, “I apologize for what happened, it was completely unprofessional on my part”

You cleared your throat trying to find the right response, “yeah, well, I'm sorry too, we were both in the wrong and it shouldn’t have happened and I’m really hoping we can just move past this” 

“Yes I agree” Tom nodded his head, “So how are those papers coming along?”

You shrugged, sitting down in the exact leather chair you’d sat in on Monday, “There needs to be a study group or something, I mean if this is the writing skills of our future world leaders I’m honestly a little concerned”

Tom chuckled, his hands instinctively reaching for his tie, something you noticed he did subconsciously. Your heart skipped a beat as your stomach fluttered, “god get a grip girl” You thought as you blinked your lust filled thought away.

Tom smirked, noticing your reaction to the way you reacted to him, “Yes well not everyone has an easy time with writing as you do”. He touched his tie again, this time tugging on the knot a little.

Your breath hitched as your brain went foggy. A low chuckle leaving his mouth as you shook your head, “Well I’m not that great of a writer, I mean I have countless drafts that no one sees”

“Really?” Tom played with his tie, loving how much the simple habit affected you, “How many drafts did you make before you sent that email?”

Your eyes widening in surprise, “no drafts. Drunk me is the best writer”

Tom smiled, getting up from his seat as he moved to stand in front of you. You watched as he leaned against his desk. You bit your lip as you leaned back into the chair, enjoying the way that Tom seemed so much taller than you.

“You know you probably shouldn’t say that to your professor”

You smirked, “There’s a lot of things I shouldn’t say to my professor” You were playing with fire but the heat felt too good, it made you want to know what the burn felt like. “Fuck it, what’ve you got to lose” You thought to yourself as you smiled.

“Oh yeah?” Tom’s eyebrow raised in question as he leaned down towards you, his face only inches from you, “things like what?”

You smiled bringing your lips close to his ear, “Like how much I want you to fuck me”

The groan that left Tom had your thighs clenching together, “Yeah you definitely shouldn’t tell me that.” You chuckled as you leaned back in the seat, Tom’s eyes moved over your body like you were a work of art, “but then again as a teacher I probably shouldn’t want to fuck my student so badly”

Your lips parted in surprise as Tom smirked, his fingers gently trailing up your thigh. Your breath hitched in anticipation but a disappointed sigh left your mouth when his hand didn’t move past the hem of your short dress. “If this happens no one can know”

You nodded your head as his hand grabbed your chin, keeping your head in place and forcing you to look into his eyes, “Words darling”

“No one finds out” You gulped, your body frozen. You could feel yourself getting wet from the power he held over you. The feeling of his having control over you was intoxicating

“And you understand that I will never use this against you? You can leave right now and I will forget this ever happened and we can go right back to our normal professional student-teacher relationship”

“I understand professor” You nodded, wanting nothing more than for his hands to be all over you. 

“Good girl” He smiled, placing a quick kiss on your forehead, “Now go sit on my desk and spread those legs”

You smiled, quickly doing as you were told. Tom chuckled, amused by your excitement. You watched as he got on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours as he places kisses up your thighs, occasionally leaving a mark that would stay for days to come. “You’re so wet, all this over a couple of kisses?” He teased

Before you could answer Tom moved your underwear aside, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. You moaned, your hand instinctively reaching for his hair. “I knew you would taste good,” He said, licking his lips. He ate you like you were his last meal, licking and slurping you like a starving man. 

You’d never been more thankful that the school was empty on Saturdays, no one around to hear the moans that Tom was coaxing out of you. “Oh god” Your hips shamelessly bucking against his face as he pulled your legs onto his shoulder.

“Tom please” You whimpered as his tongue slowed down to a teasing pace. He groaned, his large hand slapping your thigh, “It’s professor.” His voice was demanding and powerful. Your eyes rolled back as his fingers stretched you, toes curling as he effortlessly found your g-spot. “Professor please I’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me baby” He moaned, “I want your cum all over my face”

His fingers moved faster as you reached your breaking point, loud moans leaving your mouth as your back arched. You could feel Tom smirking against your clit as your legs began to slightly shake. 

“You sound so pretty when you cum” Tom said as he stood up, your cum making his face glisten in the last bits of light that came from the windows of the office. You couldn’t help yourself, grabbing his shirt to pull him closer as you licked your cum off his face. 

“Someone’s eager” He joked as you kissed down his neck. “Hmm I can’t help it, you just look so sexy with my cum on your face. Plus I’ve been wanting this all semester so are you gonna give me what I want or am I gonna have to get it from someone else”

Tom’s jaw tightened as he grabbed your wrist, “Don’t be a brat or I’ll edge you all night and leave you with nothing”

You whimpered as Tom pulled you off the desk, “Now if I remember correctly,” you watched as he loosened his tie, “You wanted to wear this.” You nodded your head, watching as he took off the blue and white tie, taking a deep breath as he placed it around your neck. 

“And as much as I love you in this dress, I think I’d prefer for you to be out of it” He smirked. You chuckled, turning around so he could unzip the dress, letting the fabric pool at your feet. Tom’s arms snaked around your body he pulled your back into his. His fingers playing with your nipples, squeezing and pulling the sensitive area. You bit your lip, rubbing your ass against his hard on, your pussy desperate for more attention.

“Professor” You wined, “I want you”

“So needy baby” He chuckled against your skin as he kissed up your shoulder and neck, ���Don’t worry, you’ve been a good girl I won’t tease you too much”

Your head rested against his shoulder as his hand twisted the tie, making it tighter around your throat, “Is this okay?” You nodded, wincing when his hand roughly slapped your ass, “Come on sweetheart you're smart enough to know that when I ask a question I expect an answer. Now use your words”

“Yes Professor” You said moaning as his hand gently rubbed the area he’d just hit. Tom quickly unbuckled his pants, pushing them down as he aligned himself with you. He teasingly rubbed the head of his cock on your clit, loving the low whimpers that escaped your mouth as your hips jolted up. 

Tom’s grip on your hips tightened, pushing you down into the desk as he bottomed you out. You moaned loudly as he began to thrust into you, “This is what you wanted right? Your professor fucking you like a slut”

You gripped the desk, trying your best to keep your balance. Tom gripped the tie again, the fabric pulling your head back. “Faster please Professor” You begged as you moved your hips. 

His hips sped up as his hand moved in front of you tracing figure eights on your clit. You became light headed from how tight the tie was but you couldn’t care less it all felt too good. “Sir Please It’s too much I’m gonna cum”

“Go on baby cum on my cock, give it to me” Tom sped up, becoming needier as he came closer to cumming. He pulled your body into his, fucking up into you as he kissed the harsh line where the tie met your skin. The sensation was too much for you as you came, your walls squeezing Tom, milking his cock of all his cum as he came shortly after you.

Your body went limp, leaning against the desk so you didn’t fall to the floor. Tom sighed, pulling out of you, groaning when he saw his cum leaking out your abused hole. “You did so good” Tom whispered as he kissed up your spine, “Such a good girl for me”

You slowly got up, turning around to face him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Tom smiled, picking you up and moving you to the couch, where you sat cuddled in his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked, still placing kisses all over your body

“I’m cold” You said, your head resting against his shoulder. He chuckled, quickly grabbing his jacket from his chair before returning to your tired body. You laid in his lap with his jacket wrapped around you, Tom’s hand running up and down your spine as he kissed your forehead.

You glanced at the clock, “it’s getting late”

Tom sighed, “let’s just stay like this for a little while, then we’ll get you dressed and I’ll drive you to your dorm”

[fuck-customers]

This is a long one, and a fuck customers, fuck coworkers, fuck managers, and fuck me aaaall wrapped into one hellish situation.

First week back at classes in college. I've worked for this place for a couple years now, and am now part of student management (assistant manager) at the university's food court. We have one really, constantly slammed unit that does burgers, wraps, salads, that sort of thing. And naturally in the middle of the lunch rush my fellow assistant manager, who decided she would just sit on her ass in the office giving orientations to new workers instead of spending some time on the floor like I do (and I constantly tell her to leave some to me but that doesn't seem to be happening), gives me a new student to train on REGISTERS for this super slammed unit. No matter how many times I show her all the buttons, she is in panic mode already seeing the line, so I'm also taking in that panic, I have a unit manager who won't go away and keeps giving me new information which I really needed to not be told at the moment in time. And the training on all the register options and combos is just patchy and sporadic and not covering the amount of material I wanted to because the line is getting so long.

While I'm getting that, I am preparing food orders, expiditing them to students who aren't listening for their number to be called no matter how loud I yell, while also constantly having to correct the student mistakes on the register because I haven't been able to actually pay enough attention to her, and then one of the full timers (not students, this is just their job) is talking over me to a student who's order I'm trying to prepare correctly and show the student how to ring up correctly at the same time. Asking him if he wants pesto and or extra pesto and shit. An order was missed somewhere along the way a few times. The full-timer didn't even need to be involved! She is doing wraps and salads! The dude wanted chicken tenders with buffalo sauce which is the grill side of things!

I try very hard to say "hey I need some space; there are four people talking at me" and she isn't listening and the student is getting freaked. So I finally had enough and told her "I need everyone (customer has moved on at this point down to wait for his food so not directed at him...i would never say that to a customer) to STOP talking" and frantically motioned with my hands for her to get away. I have a lot of problems processing repetative or constant noise and have had some uncontrollable outbursts when I was younger, resulting in broken belongings so I am trying so hard to regulate myself since it's been a long time since it was a problem but she Keeps. On. Talking at me. And NOW, she is saying I'm being rude and that it was so unnecessary. When literally the only thing that got her away from me was being rude! No one listens when I'm nice! They just assume I'm optional to listen to unless I'm an ass.

And really the new student was the victim in all this chaos. I feel like I failed her, and I DID fail her. She deserved better than I gave her today and I even sent out an email apologizing and asking how I can better support her in the future...but it's never going to erase what happened today.

And I am really normally great at my job. The chefs and other staff and managers usually get noticeably more at ease when I'm there, so today just has made me go to a really dark place knowing I was the total opposite today. And with my new managerial duties, i have yet to actually be trained or shown where to find documents, i dont have access to things like fuckin printers or online files, there are about 50 oddball half-formed docs and sheets floating around online that nobody actually ever shows me how to find, requiring about 50 tabs to be juggled with only about 10 minutes to find everything needed, there are no protocals or procedures or any sort of master list/sheet/file to help keep track of everything. And none of the other student managers will help me because they have so much on their plate already.

On top of all this, I have another job on weekends (that is also driving me up a wall), student teaching, four classes, and then this job. So I work 7 days a week, and the earliest I get home during the week is 11:30 p.m. (weekends is more like 6:30 p.m.) and the latest I get to sleep in is 7 a.m. But I so badly need the money. I'm really worried this is just how it's going to be and I'm just going to continue to get worse.

[aereres]

Professional - Jonathan Toews

Summary: You were expecting things to become calm after landing the position as Jonathan Toews' PA, as calm as your stressful job could be. Your relationship with your boss, though, makes your life become anything but calm.

A/N: It’s here! It’s out! Wanna thank my bestie @captaindaddies for helping me out with some stuff, ily bby ❤️

Word Count: 14,4k 

Warnings: Lots of swearing, SMUT, maybe even a tip of angst, lots of nervousness and lots of teasing. Mentions of Patrick Kane, if it might bother.

Nervous, that was how you felt. Standing on the front steps of Jonathan Toews’ house was you, your bag nervously pulled close to your side as you mustered the courage to knock, to let him know you were finally ready to work as his personal assistant.

How you landed the job was still unknown to you: you were inexperienced, and everyone could tell by the way you were nervously standing in front of his front door. Still searching for the courage inside of you, you breathed out a sigh. You needed to get your shit together.

Jonathan Toews wasn’t intimidating. Right?

After breathing in a large amount of air and pushing it out of your lungs quickly, you let your knuckles hit the wood of his door, your heart hammering against your ribcage. You waited, for so long you almost thought you had missed him due to his early morning practice. When the door opened, though, you were met with a composed-looking hockey player.

You had seen him only through the screen of your laptop, but you could say that he looked way better in real life. Trying not to get too lost in his dark eyes, you greeted him softly, a nervous smile on your features.

“Y/N! Great to finally meet you in person!” He spoke, his voice deeper than you could remember as he looked at you, a professional smile on his lips. “Come in, I got a few minutes before I have to leave for practice,”

“Thank you, Mr. Toews,” was all you were able to mutter, getting rid of your coat and holding it in your arms as you looked around the rather large mansion. He gave you a small tour, and you found yourself mesmerized by everything he had shown you, from the high ceilings to the large windows that viewed Lincoln Park.

“I left a list of things to do on the kitchen counter,” he said when you found yourselves back in the main hall. “You’ll find everything you might need in that paper,”

“Okay, sir,” you smiled, finally at ease. Rummaging through your purse, you grabbed the stack of papers you had printed out for the occasion, carefully handing it to him. “You asked for my curriculum,”

“Right,” he nodded his head, scanning through the words quickly. “I’ll take a look at it after practice,”

You smiled his way, nodding your head before he could leave the room to grab his bag, leaving you on your own in the large hall. You hesitantly let yourself wander inside the kitchen, where the paper he had talked about was sitting neatly on the isle.

“I’m heading out,” he called from the hallway. “My number is on that paper, if you need help with anything,”

“Thank you, Mr. Toews,”

“Oh, and make yourself at home, Y/N,”

-

“What are you even reading, man?” Patrick sighed as he dropped his helmet on the bench, looking at an already-showered Jonathan slumped over a bunch of papers.

“My PA’s curriculum,” Jon mumbled, lower lip tugged between his lips.

The teammate snatched the papers from his hands, scanning through the words with a smirk on his face. “Originally from Canada, fresh out of college, worked for a company for a couple of months, ten years younger than you,” he nodded his head. “And she’s even hot,”

“It’s strictly professional,” Jon huffed, jokingly punching his friend’s shoulder as he turned around to grab some clothes, his eyes finding your picture attached to the files as he did so.

“Yeah, sure,” Patrick rolled his eyes as he took off his skates. Jonathan got dressed in silence, his mind wandering back to you and what you could have been doing at the mansion. He had received no call from you, no text, so he was guessing everything was coming along just fine back at his place.

“You aren’t even going to give it a thought?” Patrick asked after a while. “You’ve been single for ages, man,”

“She’s my employee,” Jonathan sighed, sending his teammate a dirty look. “I pay her to work for me, that’s all,”

“Whatever you say, Jon,”

“I’ll see you later, Kaner,” was all Jon said as he grabbed his duffle bag, propping it over his shoulder as he left the room, his mind elsewhere. Entering his Tesla, he took a deep breath and decided to go grab another coffee, something he didn’t do too often.

Patrick was exaggerated, Jon knew it already, but his teasing words impressed themselves into his mind. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, he had taken a liking to you from the first moment you had your call together for your interview. You were kind, a smile constantly on your face as you answered his questions, you were willing to do everything he asked you to do.

He shook his head when that phrase formed itself in his brain, taking a rather different turn from the professional relationship the two of you shared. Hell, he was shocked at his own self when he let his mind even go there just after your first time meeting in real life.

Turning off the car in the coffee shop’s parking lot after grabbing his usual order, he slid his phone out of his pocket. His brain was telling him not to do it, not to get too into your business, but he wasn’t thinking straight anymore.

He couldn’t even remember when the last time he had pressed on that contact’s name was, that was how much time had passed since he had last called that person. He didn’t hesitate, finally starting the call and pressing the device to his ear, his eyes focusing on the steering wheel.

“Mike? Hey, it’s Jon,” was all he said as soon as the old acquaintance picked up. “I need a background check on someone,”

-----

You had graduated at the top of the class, moved away from home for college, to Edmonton. You had an older brother, you weren’t big on sports when you were younger, you liked traveling. All the information was engraved in Jon’s mind.

You didn’t like being late, it was clear from the way you had apologized earlier that morning, Jonathan’s coffee in your hands as you mumbled sorrowful words. You overworked yourself, you weren’t one to leave work undone, and you didn’t like disappointing people.

From his spot in his living room, Jonathan analyzed you, his brows furrowed in concentration and arms folded over his chest. You were interesting, to say the least. There was something about you that had him extremely intoxicated.

Was it your sweet perfume? Was it your laugh? Or the way you spoke? He didn’t know. Less than two months. That was how long it took his thoughts to become anything but professional, that’s how long it took for him to become more than aquaintained with your presence.

Was it your inexperience? Only two boyfriends throughout high school and college, both lasted less than two months. Or was it your innocence?

You kept him awake at night, thinking about you the way a boss shouldn’t think about his employee. You had become a constant distraction at practice, during meetings, during moments he had less expected to even think about you.

He had never felt that weak for a woman ten years his junior, and he truly felt frustrated.

“Mr. Toews? Everything okay?”

Your sweet voice sent jolts through his body, snapping him out of his trance. Mr. Toews, the name kept making his cock strain against his pants, no matter how many times you called him that. “Yeah, I’m fine, Y/N,” he mumbled, voice deeper than usual as he stood up from the couch. He was at your side in just a few seconds, his eyes finding the screen of your laptop to see a schedule. “What are you doing?”

His arms caged you against the kitchen island as his chest slightly touched your back, his eyes still attached to your screen as your heartbeat quickened. “I uh- I’m organizing your schedule,” you stuttered, your body shivering from his closeness. “Player media tour is coming up soon,”

“Right,” he mumbled, a smirk painting itself on his lips as your breath got caught up in your throat when he squeezed your waist before leaving the room. You struggled to stay concentrated after he left, your mind going places it shouldn’t go as you cursed yourself for feeling that way about your boss.

Everything felt so wrong, from the way your heart hammered against your chest every time he stepped close to you, to the way you often found yourself in need of release from his teasing actions.

Working for Jonathan Toews had been unexpectedly hard, it was testing your boundaries. Holding yourself back, acting as if he wasn’t the only person you could think about, as if his name wasn’t the one you had found yourself screaming at night; it was becoming hard.

Two boring months had passed from the day you had started working for him, two boring months of taking care of his stuff and doing what you were told. Two boring months that took a turn and became two hard months when your attraction for your boss had started, two hard months that would soon become three, four, five…

Things needed to change, if you wanted to keep yourself away from any kind of heartbreak. You needed to change.

With a sigh, you unlocked your phone, letting your fingers do their work until a dating app was installed. You stared at its icon for what felt like ages, wondering whether it would be worth it or not, but eventually, you got yourself logged in.

And maybe, it was for the best.

-----

“Fuck-” you breathed out as you skimmed your way through the people crowding the streets of Chicago, some of them even wearing the Blackhawks jerseys. “I’m so late,”

You forgot to pick up his suit. His damn suit. You had been so concentrated on answering emails and getting things settled for him that the task had slipped out of your mind. The city was crowded, almost everyone seemed to be buzzed for the game, and you truly were late.

The familiar banner of the dry and clean was visible from where you were, and it took you less than a few minutes to actually reach their entrance, your breathing heavy. Your phone chimed in your hand, snapping your attention towards the message that you had received. Markus, one of the guys you had matched with on the dating app just a few weeks prior, was asking you out. If you wouldn’t have been as busy as you actually were, maybe you would have squealed in happiness, maybe you would have even called your cousin to let her know you were back in the dating scene. But you were late, your boss was waiting for you, and the text from Markus could be left on delivered for a little more.

Pushing your device inside the back pocket of your jeans, you stepped inside the warm environment of the workplace, picking up the clothing as quickly as you could before making your way back towards the mansion.

You were almost sweating when you finally closed the front door behind yourself, slipping off your coat and looking around the first story of the building for Jonathan, your mind thinking about the text from Markus. “Mr. Toews? I have the suit,”

“Upstairs!” Was all he yelled, lightly scaring you. You were hesitant to walk up the stairs. He hadn’t made it official, but it was pretty clear that he cared about his privacy, so you had taken it upon yourself to stay away from the sleeping area of the house.

You had visited that area twice: on your first day, when he had toured you around the mansion, and a week into your job, to hand him Advil after a pretty rough night at a club. Even then, you never walked past the threshold of his room, too scared to intrude.

Carefully, you started to make your way to the last floor of the house, dragging with you the suit and your nervousness. Shuffling sounds came from the end of the hallway, where the door was peeking open. The warm tones of the lights inside the master bedroom were slightly illuminating the hallway, inviting you to step closer.

“Mr. Toews?” You said, knocking lightly on the door. “I have your suit,”

He was quick to open the door completely, revealing his body to you. He had a white button-up on, his bottom being covered only by a pair of boxers. “Come in, I need your advice on something,”

Jonathan Toews was almost half-naked in front of you, showed no embarrassment from it, and you felt oh so turned on. But it was wrong, you weren’t supposed to feel that way, and that was when you made your decision. You were going on the date.

He walked towards the mirror, turning his back to you as you hesitantly stepped in. You laid the suit on his bed, keeping your eyes to the floor to avoid any kind of discomfort from his side.

“Help me choose my cufflinks?”

He was looking at you, motioning for you to go stand next to him with a small smile. When you obediently made your way towards him, he turned towards the mirror to sort out his tie. Your eyes met his quite big collection of cufflinks, everything looking so shiny and expensive. You weren’t shocked, it wasn’t a secret that you were working for a man with money, you were just surprised to see so much gold in front of your own eyes.

“I was going to go with these ones,” he mumbled, snapping you out of your thoughts and pointing towards the blue pair that was resting on the dresser. “But I’m not too sure. Choose a pair, please,”

With shaky hands, you let yourself pick the ones that had caught your attention from the start. They were golden, probably pure gold, resting cold in the palm of your hand as you inspected them. They stared back at you as the room fell silent, the only sounds coming from Jonathan, who was touching up the look of his tie.

“My grandfather’s,” you heard him say after a while, his deep voice bringing you back to reality. He was closer than you had thought, his warm palms gently holding your arms as he looked down at the pair you had chosen. “Good choice,”

Your cheeks burnt at his praise, your eyes looking up at his mirror reflection for a second. He had you flustered, and it was extremely unprofessional. Everything about your boss seemed to bring you to the edge: from the way he spoke, his voice deep and lustful, to the way his rough hands would randomly graze against yours, their touch so gentle.

“I’ll- I’ll be downstairs, I’ve got some stuff to finish,” you stuttered, biting on your lip as you started to make your way outside, stopping in your tracks when you remembered. “Oh, I had a question, sir,”

“Go on,”

“I was wondering if I could get off earlier, tomorrow night,”

“Anywhere special to be?” Jonathan asked, a smirk painting his lips as he completed the pre-game look.

“I have a date, sir,”

He tried to keep his expression as natural as possible, even though jealousy was truly burning him alive. He didn’t want to see you with someone else, someone who barely even knew you, or who barely even knew how to treat you.

He was pretty confident when it came to knowing you. Maybe the way he found out - thanks to Mike - wasn’t the best way to actually get to know you, but he knew what got you flustered, what had you weak. He knew how to make you feel that way.

How could a guy your age even know anything regarding your pleasure?

“Sir?”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem,” he mumbled - his voice fakely uninterested - ending the conversation as quickly as it started. That was your sign to leave the room, confused as to how you were supposed to feel. Happy because you were going to go on a date with Mark? Or sad because Jonathan seemed to not care at all, especially since you had thought he would, after all the teasing he had done on you?

His voice held you back one last time, making you turn around and catch his gaze in the mirror reflection. “Wish me luck?” Was all he said, making you remember just then that he had more important things to do to even care about your date.

“Good luck, Mr. Toews,”

-

Jon breathed out a long sigh as he let himself fall on one of Patrick’s couches, the glass of whiskey in his hand feeling cold against the warm skin of his palm. They had taken another loss, and that time, Jon was pretty confident when he said it was his fault.

He had tried to push you to the back of his mind, at least for one night, but it had been easier said than done. The jealousy he had felt just hours prior didn’t leave his body, and he wanted nothing more than to show you who you belonged to.

“Another fucking game, man,” Patrick scoffed, letting his body flop down next to him. “That shit gets me so pissed off,”

“Yeah, man,” was all Jonathan mumbled, putting the glass to his lip before taking a drink, the liquid burning his throat.

“How are things with your pretty girl?” Patrick changed the conversation, sending his friend a smirk as he sipped his own drink.

“What pretty girl?” Jon grumbled, looking at the whiskey in the glass with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Your PA, man,”

Jon fought the urge to roll his eyes, the look he sent his friend being enough to answer his question. “I told you, professional,”

“Come on, Jon,” Patrick chuckled. “You haven’t even given it a thought?”

Jonathan stayed silent for a few seconds, trying to gather his thoughts before actually giving his teammate an answer. Oh, he did give it a thought. Multiple times. “She’s going on a date tomorrow, that’s all you need to know,”

“And you’re jealous,”

“Am not,” Jon lied, scoffing as he downed the rest of his drink, pouring himself more.

“Then why are you telling me about this?” Patrick asked, knowing that no matter what, he was right. “Don’t act as if you haven’t been thinking about her, you’ve been weird ever since she started working for you,”

Jon clenched his jaw, his eyes directing towards the skyline of Chicago from Patrick’s windows. “Okay, yeah, maybe I am,” he admitted. “Guys her age will never be able to take care of her,”

“She obviously wanted a reaction from you, man,” Patrick rolled his eyes, so obvious in his point of view. “Why would she even tell you? You’re her boss, as you like to say,”

His thought made sense: why did you even tell him you were going on a date in the first place? “That girl got you fucked up, bud,” Patrick chuckled, shaking his head.

“Fuck, every time she calls me ‘sir’ and ‘Mr. Toews’-” Jon sighed out, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands. “I can’t resist her,”

“Then don’t,”

Sending his friend a dirty glare, he chugged another drink. “I’m serious, Toews. Just get the girl,”

“As if it’s that easy,” he mumbled under his breath, pushing his glass on the coffee table before standing up. “I’m outta here. Thanks, man, I’ll see you tomorrow,”

Heading out of the house, he wanted nothing more than to go home and get some rest. You crowded his mind even in his sleep, but he needed to get some rest and figure himself out.

He wasn’t able to resist you anymore, that he was sure of.

-----

You hadn’t been on many dates before, but it didn’t take much to understand that the one with Markus shouldn’t have even been considered a date. He had charmed you, brought you out to dinner just to get you in his bed, and even fussed when you had made it clear that you didn’t want to see him again.

You were frustrated, to say the least.

You had gotten just a few hours of sleep before having to head in for work, finding the mansion empty, no sign of Jonathan. No call from him was received, when you worked, he had shown no interest in you for the entire day.

Your cousin Laila also seemed to be missing in action: she hadn’t picked up your calls and ignored all your texts. You were pretty sure she had kept her phone off for the day.

The first sound inside the house was unexpected, it almost scared you. It was the front door closing, the sound of footsteps following soon after. You put on a smile, glancing up from your computer to see a tired-looking Jonathan entering the living area.

“Good evening, Mr. Toews,”

“Hi,” he mumbled, pushing himself towards the kitchen to grab a glass and an expensive bottle of wine.

“Can I help you with anything, sir?”

He had to hold himself back from sighing, shaking his head as he poured himself a glass. “Didn’t you have that date, last night?” Was all he asked after a while, twisting his wrist and watching the velvety liquid move around the glass.

“I did,” you sighed. “How was your day, sir?”

“I don’t want to talk about my day,” was all he said, voice stern as he sat next to you on the couch, more than curious to hear about the guy you had gone out with. “Tell me about the date,”

You held back a shocked look, letting your eyes find his for a second. “I-I don’t want to bother you, sir,”

“You’re not bothering me, sweetheart,” the pet name had you weak, your heart beating out of your chest as you struggled to breathe properly. “And please, call me Jon,”

The smile on his lips was enough to send shivers down your spine, a breathy sigh leaving your lips as you shut your laptop. The fact that Jonathan, your own boss, cared to even listen to you ranting about your date made him even hotter, from your point of view. He seemed to be the only one that wanted to hear about it, which spurred you on to actually talk to him about it.

“Well, he brought me out to dinner at this new Indian place, downtown,” you started, fidgeting with your fingers as you let your eyes stay on your lap. “He made us split the check-”

“Hang on-” he mumbled out, his hand finding your knee to stop you. “He split the check?!”

“Yeah,” was all you could whisper, gulping as you looked at his hand on your leg. With your last ounce of courage, you let your eyes focus on his.

“Tell me he at least paid for his shit,” he said, taking a sip of his drink as his hand slowly moved higher.

The shake of your head was enough to get him to groan. “He got the most expensive dish out of the menu and just split the check at the end,”

“That’s bullshit,” he scoffed, sending you a glance. “Hope you went home after that,”

You kept your mouth shut, your silence being enough to make him realize that you had done the opposite. “Y/N-”

Your name sounded so good, coming from his lips, it had you burning for him. Coming back to your senses, you kept explaining your side of the story. “Well, he mentioned going back to his place, and I needed to relieve some stress, Jon,”

“So you fucked,” he tried to keep his bitterness at bait by chugging down part of his wine. “You don’t look too relaxed, though,”

Everything seemed to spill out of you so quickly after that, especially under his gaze that left you more than submissive for him. “There was no foreplay,”

Jon rolled his eyes, hiding a cocky smirk when he realized he was more than correct, the night when you had revealed that you were going on the date: the guy didn’t know how to satisfy you.

“And, you know-” you mumbled, suddenly shy. “I wasn’t- I didn’t-”

“You didn’t cum,” he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief as his hand slid up even more on your thigh. “It was pretty obvious,”

You looked at him, your body on fire as you tried not to concentrate too much on how his hand felt on your leg, or how much you needed him. “You know, you look cute when you get shy,” he mumbled, smirking as his thumb drew shapes on the tender skin right before your inner thigh, teasing you just right. “You’re so innocent, you don’t even know what you do to me,”

Your head rolled against the back of the couch as you bit back a moan, his eyes holding yours strictly as he let his hand inch closer to your center. “Did he have you so riled up for him?”

You breathed out a sigh, relishing in his touch as his fingers ghosted over the spot you needed him the most. He stopped, though, snapping you out of your lust-induced trance by pulling you over his lap. You were breathing harshly, your hands on his muscled chest as your noses brushed against each other. “Answer my question,” he grumbled, his hands rough on your thighs. “Did he make you feel the way that I make you feel?”

“No,”

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” he said, voice firm as his eyes stared deep into yours.

You finally seemed to be back to your senses partially, realizing just then how wrong everything was. But it felt so good, you needed release and Jon seemed to be the one willing to help you with that. As if it wasn’t enough, all the teasing he had done on you seemed to resurface, and it made you more than eager to let him have you.

What was happening, suddenly, didn’t feel wrong anymore. “I want it,”

That was all it took for him to let his lips meet yours in a hungry kiss, your hands subconsciously moving towards his hair, gripping it gently. His mouth ate all your moans, giving him the opportunity to slide his tongue in, leaving you even more at his mercy.

The smell of his cologne had you in a frenzy, kissing him until you were short of breath just to have him press open-mouthed kisses on your neck while you pulled apart for air. His lips were back on yours before you knew it, playing you like the finest violin as the warmth in your chest spread lower.

When his hands found your waist, pulling you even closer and helping you grind on his growing bulge, your mind started working again. It reminded you it was wrong, that Jon was just your boss and your relationship had to be strictly professional. Caving in had already been a big mistake, not stopping would have surpassed every possible line.

You scrambled away from him, pushing yourself off of his lap in a rush, feeling extremely guilty. “Y/N, come back-”

You didn’t listen to his pleas, grabbing your coat before heading out the door, your heart beating out of your chest.

You had fucked up.

-

You had almost considered calling in sick just to avoid the sight of Jonathan for a little longer. The regret was intense, and you were sure you hadn’t felt anything like that before.

You were essential to his life, though, it was something you had to face. You couldn’t stay home and avoid him, or beat yourself up for what had happened the previous night for months. It had happened, it was unprofessional, but you had to get yourself out of bed and on with your life.

The mansion was silent, when you first entered it. You found your laptop on the couch, on the same spot where you were sitting the previous night, and some of your belongings on the kitchen table.

You left a go-to cup of Jon’s hot coffee on the island, opening your computer to take another look at your boss’ schedule. After morning practice, he had to be headed towards his favorite restaurant to have lunch with his brother, and then, he had a session with his personal trainer later in the afternoon.

Just as you were thinking about the fact that you needed to go pick up a present for his mother’s birthday, you heard two pairs of footsteps coming down the stairs. Jonathan was walking behind a blonde-haired woman, his hair messy as she sported a smile.

The sight of him with another woman had you regretting your previous night's reckless decisions even more. She was pretty, he seemed happy, and you felt dumb. Dumb to even have hoped for a small moment that it might have meant something to him, dumb because you were jealous of her, even though you had been the one to run away, after getting your moment with Jon.

His eyes found yours when he finally stepped foot inside the first floor. You held back a fresh set of tears as you looked back down at the computer screen, biting on your bottom lip as you tried to zone out.

“And that’s the door,” you heard him say quickly. “Y/N, I can-”

“Call me later?” The woman interrupted him, voice as sweet as honey as he opened the door for her, trying to get her out of the house as fast as possible.

“Sure. Bye,” the door was shut loudly behind her, the echo of his footsteps impressing itself into your mind as he made his way inside the kitchen.

“Y/N, I can explain,”

“You have lunch after practice with your brother,” you said, voice monotone as you avoided eye contact with him in every possible way. “Then a session with your personal trainer at five. Want me to schedule you a call with that woman, too?”

“Listen, Y/N, she was here because after last night-”

“Last night was totally unprofessional from both of our sides,” you stated, finally sending him a sharp look. “I’d prefer if the matter won’t be discussed anymore, Jonathan,”

“Y/N-”

“Practice is in five, I’d start leaving the house, if I was you,” you mumbled. “I’ll be out to get your mother her birthday present from you,”

“Fuck, her birthday, yes,” he muttered, grabbing his keys and coat as he settled for leaving the house, knowing just how much he had fucked up. “I thought we could have gone together?”

“Your schedule is pretty packed, but I could see,”

“Please?” He asked, voice soft for the first time. You bit your lip, trying to ignore the tears that were slowly swelling up as you nodded your head. He wanted to talk, it was obvious, and you just couldn’t say no to your boss.

“Thursday afternoon,”

“Thank you,” he sighed out, grabbing his cup of coffee before leaving the house, his mind elsewhere. “I’ll see you later,”

As soon as the door closed behind him, you let the tears fall. As much as you wanted to put up a tough facade, you had been broken, and you felt like your whole world had been dropped. You felt confused, heartbroken, jealous.

You pressed on Laila’s contact, sniffling when she picked up. “Y/N?”

“Oh, Laila,” you sobbed, even surprising yourself. “Why am I so stupid?”

She was confused, to say the least. You hadn’t called her in tears for what felt like ages; hell, work had gotten you so busy you hadn’t called her for months. Everything had come out of your mouth so quickly it had you shocked: you explained to her the teasing, the famous night, and just what had happened minutes prior, tears streaming down your face as if you’d never experienced heartbreak before.

The fact that you even felt heartbroken from your boss, Jonathan Toews, felt unreal. You had pushed your feelings for him aside for so long that you weren’t expecting to feel that hurt over something so small. You were shocking your own self.

“Why am I even crying over him, Lai?” You sniffled, wiping the leftover tears on your cheeks with the back of your hands.

“You clearly have feelings for him, Y/N,”

You closed your mouth shut at her words, shock evident in your voice as you stuttered. “But I barely even know him!”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Silence came from Laila’s line, a long sigh could only be heard as the two of you stopped talking. “This might sound so cheesy, but listen to your heart, Y/N,”

You sniffled at her words, still unsure of everything going on in your life as your heart still felt quite broken even after venting to your cousin. You needed time to figure things out, time to think.

And time was what you gave yourself.

-----

“Hey, thanks for coming,” Jonathan greeted you softly, his eyes finding yours when you stopped in front of him. “I’m not the greatest at gifts,”

You giggled, shaking your head as you mindlessly let your hand grasp his forearm, sending shivers down his spine. “Of course, Jon,”

“I uh- I got the car out,” he pointed towards his Tesla, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I know you prefer walking, but I exaggerated at the gym earlier and my legs are pretty sore,”

“It’s fine,” you reassured him, his softness making your heartbeat quicken. “Shall we go?”

As if you had snapped him out of his thoughts, he nodded his head, leading you towards the vehicle and opening the passenger door for you. The car was fancy, but you weren’t expecting anything else from him. He was Jonathan Toews, his wristwatch probably cost more than your old college tuition.

You small talked until you reached your destination, the large mall just out of town that hosted the most expensive stores, the ones you were so used to admiring from the distance. You slipped out of the car on your own, looking at the building with a small ounce of anxiousness as you waited for Jon to reach your side.

“You ready?”

You turned around to face him, nodding your head sharply as you tried not to get lost in his wide smile. “Thought you wanted to stay there and gaze at the mall for the rest of the afternoon,”

“No,” you giggled, starting to walk just when his hand slipped on your lower waist, nudging you. Your heart was fluttering, his touch so gentle against your skin as he helped you towards the door. Why did it feel so good when he touched you? You were supposed to hate him, to be disappointed in him; yet, you couldn’t pull away, keep a safe distance between the two of you. It was as if you were magnets, the attraction too much to actually let go.

Snapping out of your trance, you remembered just why you were there, with him, and what you needed to do. “Uh- have you been thinking about anything?”

“Jewelry,” was all he suggested, his hand dropping back to its place next to his waist when you walked inside the large main hall. “She doesn’t wear it too often, but she secretly loves it,”

“Okay,” you nodded your head. “Any store in mind?”

“There should be one just around the corner,” he mumbled, directing you around the quite empty mall with large strides. He was right, one of the largest jewelry you had ever seen was right in front of your eyes, the prettiest diamonds being exposed right next to rings and earrings.

“Woah,”

“I know,” was all Jonathan mumbled, dragging you along with him inside the store. You had an employee at your side the moment you walked in, her eyes barely even acknowledging you as she started blabbering about the shop and what they sold, entirely focused on your boss.

“We’re here for a gift, but I think we won’t have trouble looking on our own,” Jon politely said, sending the woman a small smile just as he pulled you close to his side by your waist, making you repress a gasp. The woman left soon after, giving you a once-over right before she went back to walking around the store in search of people to help.

You were struggling to breathe when he released your body, his eyes going to the jewels behind the displays as he kept you close. “I’m sorry about that. She was making me uncomfortable,”

“It’s okay,” was all you were able to mumble, following his gaze on a necklace. “Is she one for necklaces?”

“Not really,”

“Maybe earrings?”

“Yeah, she wears those often,” Jon nodded his head, searching for the displayer with the earrings. “I want something she could wear every day, though,”

“Something simple,” you hummed, your eyes raking around the various pairs of earrings. You came across a pair that looked like white gold in the shape of a flower, tempested with small, white diamonds.

You carefully pointed towards them, your fingers catching Jon’s attention. “Those look pretty,” he mumbled as he called over another shop assistant. “Could we get these out? I want to see them closer,”

The pair was in front of your eyes before you knew it, shining under the warm lights of the store. You had to refrain yourself from letting your eyes widen at the price tag, deciding to let them focus on Jonathan’s expression. “What do you think about them?”

“I think they might be too big to be casual,” was all he mumbled, glancing towards the displayer again to search for something else. “I was also thinking about a bracelet, you know?”

“I’ll go take a look at some of those for you,” you whispered, smiling his way before moving towards the other side of the store, where the bracelets were located. The diamonds and pearls were all staring back at you, begging to be bought as you talked lightly with the shopping assistant.

You didn’t even realize you had been stuck on one specific item until the lady helping you caught your attention. “That’s a Cartier,” she smiled your way. “Simple but classy, they’ve been selling pretty quickly,”

“It’s really beautiful,” you whispered, batting your lashes a few times to push yourself out of your daydream before focusing on the rest of the collections. You were pretty sure Jonathan would like the bracelet you picked out: a small, golden chain with a charm that represented family, also stutted with diamonds.

“Found anything interesting?”

You jumped when you heard Jon’s voice from behind you, his palm finding its place on your smaller back again as he stood by your side. “Thoughts on this one? The charm represents family,”

Jonathan was gentle as he lifted up the jewel, looking at it attentively before smiling your way. “I think we found the one,”

With a smile, you went to take a look at the earrings he had chosen, leaving Jonathan on his own in front of the bracelets. “We’re getting that one,” he mumbled to the shopping assistant, pointing towards the present for his mother. “Was she looking at anything else when she was alone?”

“The young woman?”

Jonathan nodded, hoping the employee could help him out in some ways. He had felt the urge to buy you something from the moment he first saw your eyes sparkle at the sight of the jewels. He knew it was wrong, but he felt like he might have needed it someday: maybe as an apology, or maybe as just a present.

“She was looking at this one,” the woman said, nonchalantly taking out of its displayer the Cartier rose gold bracelet you had been gazing at for minutes.

Just the best way to spoil his girl, he thought. “Add it to the rest, please. And don’t use a separate bag for it,”

“Of course, sir,” the woman smiled, leading him towards the checkout. “I’m sure she’ll love it,”

The two of you left the store soon after he swiped his credit card, heading towards the parking lot in silence. Your time together had come to an end, and you felt weird when the thought of missing him even crossed your mind. He had shown you softness, even regret, throughout the afternoon, and you realized you had gotten to know another part of him. The sensitive part, the part that was in some way asking you to give him another chance.

“I know I fucked up the other day,” Jonathan said when he started the car, the flashbacks of him walking the woman out rising back to life inside your brain. “And I know that you don’t want to talk about it anymore, but I owe you an apology,”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as he kept driving, the city running past your eyes. He was willing to admit his mistakes, but were you going to let him back into your heart?

“Okay,”

He seemed surprised when you answered, but snapped back to reality quickly. “Take a day off, tomorrow,” he said, his eyes finding yours quickly before directing them back to the streets.

“But you have the game, Jon,”

“I want you to come to the game, have some fun,” he said, words authoritative as he kept his eyes trained on the road, your panties dampening just at the tone of his voice. “And then go out for drinks with me after it,”

That was anything but professional, if you thought about it, but was your heart going to stop you? There was nothing holding you back anymore. You took a fast glance at his face, not realizing he had caught you until his eyes met with yours. “Y/N?”

“Okay,”

You suppressed a smile as he drove towards your apartment complex, playing with your fingers in your lap as you tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Your usual Friday night was going to take a turn: you weren’t going to watch Jonathan play behind the screen of your TV anymore, and you weren’t going to daydream about him before falling asleep.

Friday night was going to be different, and you knew it.

-----

Friday was calm. The sun was warm on your skin as you read a book on your couch, thankful for a morning off and some time to figure your life out. It had taken you a while to realize just how much you had been ignoring your own mental health, how you really felt, and your day off seemed to be just the perfect way to understand yourself better.

It felt confusing, if you had to be honest. Your heart was more than ready to give itself entirely to Jonathan: to give him your all, to wake up in the morning next to him, to make memories together. Your brain, though, made you feel like it was wrong, almost dirty.

You wanted the two of them to find a solution to all their divergences, to make it easier for you. You couldn’t bear the confusion anymore, staying away from Jon was already hard enough.

Laila’s words replayed themselves in your mind while you took a shower, rinsing the shampoo from your hair. What if you really had feelings for him, though? The way your heartbeat quickened every time he said your name was almost enough to answer your question; the butterflies dancing in your stomach every time you’d feel his touch were so evident you almost laughed at yourself for not realizing it sooner.

The sexual tension, at the same time, was something you clearly couldn’t ignore. You were so sure that it was what it had made you attracted to him in the first place, the warm feeling deep in your stomach, or just the way you were burning for him.

By the time evening rolled around, you felt nervous. You were worried you were dressed correctly for the game, but totally underdressed for drinks; you were worried you were going to make a fool out of yourself, as always, or that you were going to embarrass him.

The doorbell was enough to snap you out of your trance, making you grab your coat and purse in a rush before leaving the apartment building, only to be faced with a black car and a man in a suit. A driver?

“Good evening, Miss Y/L/N,” was all the man said, opening the door for the backseat for you in a quick second. “Mr. Toews wasn’t able to drive you, so I’m here to pick you up,”

“Thank you,” you said, holding back the last remnants of shock in you as you slid inside the car. The lights of the city moved past you as you were driven towards the arena in silence, the city looking busy as red and white jerseys packed the sidewalks.

You felt like you were in a movie. Never in your life had you thought you would have been in the backseat of an expensive car, a driver sent by your boss chaperoning you towards the destination.

“Miss, this is your ticket,”

The car had stopped, and you had realized just then that you had reached the arena, your heart starting to leap out of your chest. “Could I stay here a little more?” You asked, voice small as you hoped for a ‘yes’, suddenly overwhelmed with what was going to happen throughout the night.

“Of course, miss,” the man smiled, almost as if he wanted to reassure you everything was going to be okay, like a guardian angel.

Jonathan wanted to apologize to you, that was what was going to happen, nothing more. What were you even worrying about? Pushing all your worries aside, you grabbed your ticket and thanked the driver, following the mass of people towards the entrance of the arena.

You heard multiple excited conversations about the game, both from Blackhawks fans and from Sabres fans. You felt slightly out of place in the crowd of people dressed in red, already holding beers in their hands as they talked, even chanted their team’s name.

You found out just after getting inside the building that you were reserved a spot with the team’s close family members, a lot calmer than the spots near the rink itself. When you walked inside the room, you were met with who you could only guess were some of the player’s parents, but a group of younger women was by far taking over the room.

They were all sporting the team’s jersey, the players’ last names on their backs never repeating on the other girls’ shirts. You silently took a seat, noticing you had the best view of the rink, from the highest spot of the building.

“Newbie?”

Your head snapped to the side to meet with a girl slightly older than you, a smile on her face as she sat next to you. “What?” You asked, slightly confused at her word.

“I’ve never seen you around here before,” she explained. “I’m Amanda, Kane’s girlfriend,”

“Oh, I’m- I’m Y/N, I work for Toews,”

“Oh, so you are new here,” she giggled, shaking your hand softly. “I’ve heard about you,”

“You did?” You asked, holding back a giggle.

“I’ve heard Jon talk about you many times,” Amanda confessed, your heart fluttering at what she said. Jonathan talked about you? “You know, other girlfriends and I are just sticking together for the game. Do you want to join us?”

The offer was given to you quickly, you weren’t even able to process the fact that Jonathan’s friends knew about you, in some kind of way. You were a total stranger to them, and yet, they knew you, they wanted you to join them. “That would be awesome,” you smiled her way. “Thank you,”

When she went back to the group, you glanced down at your phone, sending Jonathan a quick text before, eventually, joining your new companions.

Good luck, Jon :)

-

“Honestly, I’m so happy they won,” Amanda mumbled, looking over the few people in the hallway right before the changing room to see if the team was going to come out soon. “They really deserved it,”

A few noises of agreement came from the rest of the WAGs, the girls you had joined just a few hours prior. “What are your plans tonight, ladies?”

Most of the girls talked about going home, relaxing with their significant other, and enjoying the night; one of the wives mumbled about leaving for a small trip right after being done at the rink, and somebody else talked about going to a club. When you were asked, your cheeks heated up.

“We’re going out for drinks,” you mumbled, nervously playing with your fingers as most of the girls smiled your way.

“And you’re just working for him? Girl, don’t lie to us,” Becca, another girl, pushed your shoulder jokingly.

“What are you ladies mumbling about?” Patrick walked towards your group, wrapping an arm around Amanda’s waist as she giggled. His eyes found yours in a second, scanning your face as a smirk planted itself on his lips. “You’re Y/N, right? Nice to meet you,”

“Hi,” you smiled, your attention quickly snapping towards someone else when a familiar hand settled itself on your smaller back.

“Hey,” Jon said, propping his bag up his shoulder as he looked down at you. “Good evening, ladies,”

The girls barely even answered, too busy with greeting their husbands and boyfriends and congratulating them to actually acknowledge the captain. “Did you have fun?” He asked, his thumb drawing small circles on your back, your stomach filling with butterflies all over again.

“Of course I did,” you smiled.

“You busy tonight, Jon?” Patrick asked, snapping the two of you out of your trance. “Drinks at mine?”

“We’re going out,” Jonathan stated, looking at his teammate with a smile. “Next time, I promise,”

You still couldn’t contain the giddy feeling whenever he referred to the two of you as ‘we’, it was something that had always made you so smitten.

“It’s fine, man. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Patrick winked, leaving you just enough time to say goodbye to Amanda before the two were off on their own.

“Shall we go?” Jon asked, his eyes focused on yours as the hallway cleared out around you. With a nod of your head, the two of you were headed off towards his car, reaching in just a few minutes a fancy bar.

The lights inside were dim, and it wasn’t the usual kind of bar filled with bodies and loud music. There were tables, just a few of them occupied by people enjoying their drinks in silence as soft jazz music set the vibe. It was cozy, in some kind of way, even if the place was extremely out of your reach.

A table was reserved for you near one of the ample windows facing a rainy Chicago, the warmth inside the room making you breathe out a sigh of relief. “I like this place,” you said, looking around the room with a smile on your face.

“I’ve been coming here for years, now,” Jon admitted, taking a seat in front of you. “I don’t like normal bars too much, they’re too messy,”

“This place represents you, in some way,” you mumbled, your eyes finding his.

“I guess it does,” was all he mumbled before ordering your drinks, voice firm as he talked to the waitress. You were sure he couldn’t see the way she was looking at him, heart-eyed as she scribbled down the drinks as best as she could, it was almost funny.

When she left you to yourselves, silence built between you. You were more than nervous, to say the least, and he seemed to be in his thoughts, in his own world. He clearly was snapped out of his trance when your drinks were slipped in front of you.

“Y/N, I just wanted to apologize for everything,” he spoke, looking at the liquid inside his glass quickly before letting his eyes meet yours. “I never thought things would go like that, I even tried to hold myself back, but I didn’t make it,”

“It’s okay, Jon,” you whispered, playing with the rim of your glass as you tried to find some words to say. “I have to apologize too, what I did was anything but professional,”

“Y/N, it’s not your fault,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you. “If it wasn’t for me, things would have been normal, now,”

You stared at him for a moment, his dark eyes holding yours as you tried to not mutter out what you had been thinking about for ages, your body shaking in anticipation as you played with your fingers.

“I don’t want them to be normal, though,” you whispered with your last ounce of courage, shocking your own self as you bit on your lip. He looked at you in silence, making it hard for you to understand what he was feeling. “I wish you knew how I feel whenever you touch me, or when you say my name, Jon,”

There was a beat before he spoke, his voice firm after taking a sip of his drink. “Tell me what you want, Y/N,”

“I want you to make me yours, even if it’s just for one night,” you breathed out, holding eye contact as you said your next words. “Even if it might not work,”

He adjusted himself on his chair, biting on his bottom lip as his pupils dilated, giving you a once over. “Don’t play with fire, sweetheart,”

“Am not,” your voice was coated with lust as his hand traveled up your thigh with anything but hesitance. “You can take me home if you want me, Captain,”

He held your eyes for another moment, downing his whiskey before standing up, dropping a bill on the table. “Stand up,” was all he said, voice dark as he looked down at you. You fell into your submissive character as soon as his voice became authoritative, automatically jumping to your feet and following him out of the bar, the cold rain falling on your face.

The drive was silent, filled with tension as Jonathan went over the speed limit, the streets empty. His hand was on your thigh, too close to your center to even make you think straight. Everything was going too fast, but you didn’t care anymore.

Were the few sips of alcohol making you intoxicated, or was it Jon? Was it the strong scent of his cologne, the touch of his hand on your skin, his dark eyes?

His grip on your thigh tightened when he parked the car inside his garage, his eyes meeting yours for a long moment before he finally leaned in, over the console, and kissed you.

His lips were softer than you could remember, but there wasn’t anything soft about the way he was kissing you, grabbing you to pull you over his lap. You were eager to see where things were going to head, curious to explore more of him, and he was feeling the same way.

As his tongue caressed yours, his hands found their way towards your ass, pushing your center even closer to his growing bulge. You bit his bottom lip to suppress a moan, your hands dropping to his chest to undo his already messy tie.

He pulled away to breathe in some air, his lips ghosting over the skin of your neck as he grazed your throat with his teeth, shivers running down your spine. “Jon-”

“Say my name, sweetheart,” he said, voice dark as he threw his undone tie in the backseat. His hand dipped inside your jeans, tracing over your panties as he kept eye contact. “Tell the world who makes you feel good,”

“Jon-” you moaned again, head thrown back as he grasped your neck to pull you closer again, letting his lips find yours for another heated kiss, his hips bucking up to meet yours.

“Let’s head inside, baby,” was all he grumbled against your lips, hands on your thighs as he opened the car door. You whined, not wanting the moment to end, which made his voice darken even more. “Don’t be a brat. I’m not fucking you in my car on our first time. I’m better than that,”

You had to hold back a moan as he carefully exited the car, holding your body in his arms as he expertly walked towards the elevator, his mouth on yours. You were so lost in him you barely even registered your back hitting his comforter a few minutes later, his body hovering over yours as he wrapped your legs around his waist.

“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to have you like this,” he grumbled in your ear, breathing heavily as he pushed your shirt over your head, your bra following along. “Under me, at my mercy,”

His words, followed by his lips on your breasts, made the coil inside your stomach tighten. He felt so close, so real. You realized you weren’t on your own, in your room late at night, taking care of all the pent-up tension anymore. Jonathan Toews - the man who had been the center of your world for months, the man who had kept you up at night ever since he had first laid eyes on you - was on top of you, finally giving life to every fantasy of yours, and probably also of his.

His touch wasn’t as soft as it used to be anymore, his hands roughly moving from your sides to the button of your jeans, opening it in a rush as his lips found your skin again. His fingers ghosted over your heat, making you moan out a curse.

“Jon, don’t stop,” you breathed out, his lips kissing their way down to your navel. He was faced with your heat in a second, his hands pushing your underwear down your legs. You had to suppress a whine when the cold air of his room hit your heated core, your walls contracting around nothing as he let the pad of his index finger trace your slit.

“Look at you,” he whispered, licking his lips as he watched you quiver under his mere touch. “So drenched for me,”

He placed kisses on your inner thighs, teasing you just right as you whimpered under his touch, your fingers grasping his hair just when he finally let his mouth find your center. He was eager to learn what ticked you off, what made you feel good, what you needed to come off the edge. He had wanted to know for so long.

Jonathan sucked your clit in his mouth, the strangled moan that left your lips being enough to make his pants tighten even more. His tongue slid down to your entrance, his strong arms holding your waist down when you tried to follow his movements, to get some relief.

“Don’t make me tie you down, sweetheart,” was all he said, voice deep as his eyes bore deep into yours, sending you into a state of submission. When he dipped down again, he kept eye contact, his humming against your heat almost bringing you over the edge.

His tongue was making you feel stars, touching places you didn’t even know could make you feel so weak. He knew what he was doing, and he took pride in it. By the time one of his fingers slid inside of you, you were a moaning mess, everything inside your body screaming at you to let go.

Jon was attentive, keeping his eyes on you to see just how good he was making you feel, just how easily he could work you over the edge. But, just as you were about to give in and let the orgasm take over you, he stopped his movements, his lips kissing their way up your body again.

“Want to take it slow,” he whispered in your ear teasingly, biting your lobe and letting you know you weren’t going to leave the bed anytime soon. His mouth was on yours again, your taste on his lips making you moan.

Your hands were quick at undoing the buttons of his white, neatly ironed, shirt; your fingers didn’t hesitate when they touched the newfound skin of his chest, so warm and soft it made you melt.

His pants were off in a second, thrown in a corner of the room as his lips stayed on yours. You didn’t think you’d be able to separate after the night, after finally giving in and letting yourselves get close.

You were eagerly palming his cock over his boxers, ready to push yourself to your knees and give him what he had been thinking about for months. His hand gripped your wrists tightly just when you were about to push his undergarments down his thighs, your eyes snapping up to his when he shook his head. “Tonight’s about you, sweet girl,” he whispered, letting his free hand card through your already messy hair before giving it a firm tug. “On your hands and knees,”

His authoritative voice had always made you oh so desperate for him, and that time, it wasn’t any different. You were positioned in the middle of the bed as quickly as you could, your ass up in the air as he explored your body with his eyes.

“So pretty for me,” he muttered, discarding his boxers before making his way towards you. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer to him as he leaned down to kiss your spine. “Beg for it, baby girl,”

“Please, Jon-” you whined, burying your face in his pillows, completely at his mercy. “Please, fuck me,”

The chuckle that left his body was enough to make you clench around air again, the shameless moan that exited your mouth getting muffled by the soft material of his pillows. “So desperate,” he unexpectedly slid his length inside of you, the stretch making chills run down your spine as a string of curses left his lips.

“Fuck- so tight for me, sweetheart,” he breathed out, his hips stuttering for a quick second before he started to thrust into you, the sound of his hips smacking against your ass harshly filling the room.

His thrusts were quick, his skin slapping against yours rhythmically as you moaned loudly. One of his hands gripped your hair, pulling your head away from his pillows, the sting of his pulling sending pleasure to your clit.

“I want to hear every single moan,” he grumbled in your ear, his punishing pace sending you into subspace as your high neared again, your legs struggling to keep the rest of your body up. He could feel your walls constricting around him, making his own pleasure even more evident as he tried to keep his cool.

Your moans became louder again when you started to tip over the edge, but you were denied your orgasm again when Jon pulled his cock out of you, gently handling you around.

You found yourself on your back, legs spread for him as he tapped his cock against your overstimulated entrance, a smirk on his face as he entered you again. “Want you to look at me when I make you cum, sweetheart,”

His words had you whimpering, your eyes closing as he moved inside of you, the new angle making you feel even better. His hand slipped down your body, reaching your clit and teasing it as he kept his bruising pace.

“Jon- Jon I’m going to cum,” you breathed out, your legs wrapping around his middle as they slightly shook, holding him closer to you.

“Look at me,” he said, his fingers on your clit speeding up. “I said, look at me, Y/N,”

You let your eyes meet his as your orgasm made your body shake, a shout of his name leaving your mouth as your walls convulsed around his cock. You were breathing harshly as he helped you ride your high, his hips snapping quickly against yours as he held back groans.

He pulled out quickly, coming all over your stomach with a loud groan as you tried to gain back your breathing, your eyes struggling to stay open. The room sat in silence as he left the bed, only to come back a few minutes later to clean you up.

He took care of the cum on your stomach, gently cleaning it with a wet towel before going back to his position between your thighs. “You did so good for me, tonight,” he whispered, hushing your whines when the towel touched your sensitive skin. “Such a good girl,”

“I probably should go,” you mumbled sleepily, trying to push yourself out of his bed only to be interrupted by his voice.

“Stay the night, Y/N. Please,”

“Jon-”

“Please,” he repeated, taking a seat next to your laying body on his bed. His eyes were scanning your face for any kind of discomfort as he let his hand card through your hair, the moment of softness making butterflies erupt in your stomach.

As you looked up at him, you found yourself realizing just where you were, just where you were laying. Your eyes really met his bedroom for the first time at that moment, noticing every single small piece of him that was resting inside the place that he found most personal, the place he barely let people in.

He was sharing it with you, the part of him that most people barely even knew.

He slid with you under the covers, pulling your body close to his as his eyes found yours. He pushed a strand of stray hair away from your face, his other hand drawing shapes on your smaller back.

“What are we doing, Jon?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he whispered, his hand cupping your cheek as he sighed out. Silence settled between you as you tried to figure out what was happening between the two of you, if your relationship had changed, but his voice filled the room again. “You know, I was in need of release after you ran away, that night,” he mumbled, his fingers toying with the ends of your curls. “There wasn’t a moment where I wasn’t thinking about you, when I was with that girl. It was a mistake-”

“Jon, please, stop it,” you whispered, looking up at him with a small smile. “I accept your apology,”

Your words seemed to put him at peace, at least for the night, and he pulled you even closer. “Get some rest, we’ll talk in the morning,” he whispered, tenderly kissing the top of your head as you cuddled on his side. Your body was tired, but your heart was beating quickly against your ribcage at how your night had ended.

Not only did you have the best sex of your life with the man you had been wishing for ever since day one, but you also found yourself cuddling by his side, his warm body pressed against yours. The question that left your lips was slurred by sleep, but you needed to know, you needed to know if it wasn’t going to end just so soon.

“Will you be there when I wake up?”

There was a beat after you said your words, his hand carding your hair one more time as he smiled.

“Of course I will,”

-

“Good morning,”

The whispered greeting had you slowly waking up, the warmth of Jon’s body close to yours making you breathe out a sigh of fondness. “Hey,”

“How did you sleep?” the man beside you asked, voice still sleepy as he played with your bed hair. You had to repress a giggle at his question, hiding your face in his chest as you mumbled out your answer.

“Like a baby,”

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around you as the other held his phone, his eyes focused on the screen. “Plans for the day?”

“You have to meet up with your coach this afternoon,” you said, your fingers drawing shapes on his naked chest. “What time is it?”

“Nine,”

“Jon, you’re late to practice,” you scolded him with a sigh, rolling your eyes when he shrugged.

“Everybody needs a day off,” he said, making a chuckle leave your mouth. “I’ll go grab us breakfast, don’t fall back asleep without me,”

A peck was placed on your lips as Jon left the bed, your body missing his warmth after just a few seconds of being apart. You looked at the ceiling as you took in the events of the previous night, well-accustomed to the butterflies in your stomach.

You had to refrain yourself from clenching your legs at the flashbacks from the late-night activities, instead biting on your bottom lip as you remembered just how good it felt to be touched by Jonathan.

His hands on your skin, his mouth on your body, his eyes locked with yours.

You weren’t ready to leave him, though. You weren’t ready to forget about the night the two of you had spent together, to name it ‘just a one-night stand’. You wanted to wake up every morning next to him, to scold him when he was late, to spend endless nights talking about your lives after some good sex, and to be his. That was what you wanted.

You settled on getting ready as best as you could, taking a quick shower and throwing on his discarded button-up from the previous night, his cologne invading your nostrils as soon as the expensive material slid over your skin.

You heard the front door shutting after you had just made yourself comfortable in the kitchen, your laptop opened in front of your eyes as Jonathan put the coffees on the table. “Got bagels. Is it okay?”

“More than okay,” you smiled, your eyes meeting his as you took a sip from your cup. “I hope me taking a quick shower wasn’t a problem,”

“Not at all,” he smiled, seemingly noticing your outfit just then, as he leaned against the kitchen counter while he took a bite of his food. His eyes roamed your figure for a long while, your cheeks becoming quite heated as you kept your gaze on your computer screen. “You look good in my clothes,”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t find my clothes from last night,” you whispered, biting on your lip as you avoided his eye contact.

“That shirt looks better on you anyway,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist as he peeked at your laptop. “What do you have to do, today?”

“Just picking up some clothes at the dry and clean,” you mumbled, taking a bite out of your bagel. “Oh, I also need to pick up some packages,”

“I’ll come with you,” he mumbled, letting his hands squeeze your waist quickly before going back to stand against the kitchen counter. Your heart was beating against your ribcage as you tried to act unbothered, one of your hands running through your hair.

“You have other stuff to do, Jon,” you sighed, turning around to face him.

“Don’t care,” he smirked, his thumb and index finger grabbing your chin to make you look up at him. His lips ghosted over yours teasingly as you struggled to breathe, the warmth in your stomach invading your entire body. “The world can wait a little more,”

-----

Huffing as you walked around the halls of the United Center, you were trying to hold all your stress under control. It was a stressful day for Jon and you, probably the most stressful day the two of you had ever had, and things had been going okay.

Well, they had been going okay until Jonathan was nowhere to be seen after morning practice, your busy schedule being put on hold as you scanned through every room inside the building anxiously.

He had a meeting, a very important one, in fact. Coaches, PR teams and the most important people of the Blackhawks were all finding themselves in one room to discuss important business, and the captain just couldn’t be late.

His coach had mumbled something about him being extremely distracted during the previous weeks, his head going elsewhere whenever it was possible, and it didn’t take a while for you to realize it was because of you.

It had been a few weeks ever since the night, and you were confused, to say the least. You felt as if you had gone back in time, when all the two of you could share was teasing touches, deep eye contact, and sexual tension. Why were you two playing hard to get?

The large doors of the dressing room snapped you out of your thoughts, your heart hammering against your chest as you wondered whether it was a good idea or not to actually search for him inside. It probably was an invasion of privacy, right?

You almost squealed in fear when the doors opened, revealing one of Jon’s teammates, a beaten-up look on his face as his eyes met yours. “Can I help you?”

“I, uh- is Jonathan in there?” You asked nervously, sighing in relief when the younger guy nodded his head absentmindedly. “Thank you,”

He muttered something under his breath as he walked away, leaving you to open the doors to the changing room in silence. You were faced with emptiness, just the faint sounds of shuffling entering your ears as you looked around the room.

“Jonathan?”

“Ah, just who I wanted to see,”

His face sported a smirk when he walked towards the main hall of the room, dressed in only one of his extremely tight thermal shirts and a pair of boxers. He was hot, and he knew it; hell, he even took pride in it, you were sure.

“Missed you, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you close to his body. You seemed to snap back to your thoughts - too busy admiring his Adonis-like body - just then, looking up at him with a stern look.

“Jonathan, you’ve got a meeting to attend,” you said, pushing against his chest to get him away from you. “And you’re so fucking late for it,”

“You’re hot when you’re pissed off,” he mumbled, dipping his head to your shoulder to press a line of kisses over your blouse, his fingers playing with the hem of your skirt. “Everyone was looking at your ass, sweetheart. Did you know that?”

You closed your eyes as his kisses trailed up your neck, reaching your sweet spot in just a few seconds. You felt in heaven, so deeply pushed into a lust-filled trance by just his mouth as you forgot what was happening outside, what you needed to do. “Had to kick all their asses to get their eyes off of you,”

His possessiveness was sending jolts to your core, his touch so teasing yet so pleasurable as he pressed another coat of kisses down your neck. His hands slid to your ass as he let his body drop down on one of the benches, your legs straddling his waist.

“Jonathan, the meeting starts in ten minutes and you don’t even have a suit on,” you scolded him as best as you could, his fingers undoing the first few buttons of your shirt.

“Just enough time to fuck you,” he whispered against your lips, his mouth on yours a second later as his hands were already pushing your underwear to the side to tease your drenched center. “So wet for me this early in the morning, baby girl?”

You let out a shaky moan as his thumb played with your clit, the pleasure too strong to pull yourself away from him. “We’ve got to be quick, Jon,” Your hands dropped to his bulge, pushing his boxers out of the way as he aligned his cock with your entrance, ignoring your sentence.

“So needy for me,” he muttered, his cock sliding against your walls smoothly as you moaned out his name, your hands tightly gripping his shoulders. To say you were a little surprised to have sex with him for the second time inside the United Center’s dressing room was an understatement, but everything felt just too good to make it end.

“Here we go, sweetheart,” he whispered, nipping on your earlobe as his hands helped you rock your hips against his, a sharp moan leaving your lips at the stretch. A few groans left his mouth when you picked up the pace, one of his hands dropping to your clit as he relished in the pleasure.

“Jon-” you moaned, your head lulling back as he kissed your neck, his teeth leaving a love bite on your skin. He knew it was something he shouldn’t have done, that marking was for kids, but he wanted the world to know you were his, even if he didn’t have the balls to make you his.

He seemed to be pushed in a trance as you speeded up even more, trying to chase your high and bring him to his as quickly as possible, time clicking. “I’m gonna cum,” you whispered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as the pleasure became too much.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he spoke, voice sweet as he let his lips find yours again. “Milk my cock, baby,”

Your eyes locked with his as you came, mouth opened in a silent moan as your cunt clenched around his length, bringing him unbelievably close to his orgasm. You kept moving on top of him as best as you could, your sensitive pussy making you whine.

“I gotta cum, sweetheart,” he groaned in your ear, subtly telling you he needed to pull out. Your cheeks, as heated as they already were, seemed to burn even more as you whispered your next words, hiding your face from him.

“I’m on the pill,”

“Fuck- shit-” he muttered under his breath, the thought of being able to cum inside of you sending him over the edge, his abs clenching as he released against your walls. You caught your breaths together, his forehead leaning against yours after he pecked your lips gently.

Your eyes dropped to your watch, noticing you had just a few minutes before the start of the meeting, another curse leaving your lips. “Jon, you better get yourself ready,” you said, pulling yourself away from his body to fix yourself up.

You were hoping it wasn’t too evident that you had just fucked with your boss inside the dressing rooms as you made your way towards the doors, ready to leave.

“Y/N?”

You turned around to face Jonathan, who was messily trying to put on the tailored suit you loved on him. “What?”

There was a beat of silence as he pulled on his slacks, sending you a quick look. “The team is hosting this gala, next weekend,” he mumbled, cheeks rosy as he avoided your eye contact. “I was wondering if you wanted to come along?”

“Are you asking me out, Jon?” You giggled, biting on your bottom lip.

“I’m trying to,” he huffed. “You obviously don’t have to, if you-”

“Yes,”

“What?”

“Yes, I’ll be your date,” you giggled, tugging him close to you by the collar of his shirt to kiss him, your body relaxing against his. When you pulled back, a smile was resting on his lips, your heart beating out of your chest. “Now, get ready. There’s a meeting we have to be at,”

-----

You were so fucked.

The Cartier bracelet was on your wrist, shining under the lights of your apartment as you touched up your makeup, stomach churning nervously. You had come home to a couple of boxes on your bed, well-known names printed on top of them, and you were shocked, to say the least.

The material of your dress - a classy, black cocktail dress - was soft against your skin, and you were trying to refrain yourself from looking it up and check the price tag. The bracelet had been your breaking point, your eyes tearing up at the sight of the rose gold accessory you had found yourself admiring more than a month prior.

It felt strange to get spoiled by someone, you were going to be honest.

You heard the faint knock just as you were slipping on a dark pair of stilettos, your lips pulling into a smile as you opened the door, your eyes falling onto your date. He seemed speechless as he gave your body a once-over, his eyes softening at your smile.

“You look stunning, sweetheart,” he said, voice gentle as he tried to tear his eyes off of you. His hand slipped into yours, pushing it up to his lips to leave a lingering kiss on your skin, his eyes finding just later the bracelet he had given you.

“Thank you, Jon,” you whispered, cheeks heating up at his comment. He was looking better than ever in his all-black suit, matching your outfit perfectly, and it was hard for you to keep the butterflies in your stomach at bait.

“We should head out, I know you hate being late,” Jon mumbled, his eyes still not leaving you as you locked the front door behind yourself, his body close to yours. He led you out of the building with a gentle arm around your waist, nothing but warmth filling your chest as he helped you inside the car.

You were in silence as the driver moved the car around the city, directed towards the venue, Jon’s hand staying firmly on your thigh. You had so much on your mind, so much keeping you in your thoughts, and Jon seemed to notice.

“What’s happening in that pretty head of yours, darling?” He whispered, the palm on your thigh moving to grasp your hand.

“You- you bought me all this stuff and-”

“This is my way of saying thank you,” he whispered, smiling your way as the car came to a halt. “I actually bought the Cartier when we were shopping for my mom’s presents,”

Your eyebrows scrunched as you chuckled, giving him a shocked look as he helped you out of the vehicle. “Really?”

“Yeah,”

“You never told me if your mother liked the gifts,” you whispered as the two of you walked inside the venue, your arms linked together as people smiled your way.

“She did,” he stated, greeting one of his teammates with a nod of his head. “She loved the bracelet more than I thought she would,”

You smiled proudly, waving excitedly towards Amanda when her eyes caught yours. “God, Y/N, you look so beautiful tonight!” She squealed, pulling you in a hug as Patrick and Jon talked, her hands gentle on your skin as she took a good look at you.

You thanked her shyly, leaning against Jon’s side as your attention was pushed towards the center of the room, where they were announcing the start of the gala. You were introduced to various people throughout the night - shaking hands, hugging wives and girlfriends, even waving to some little kids - and you felt quite tired when you found yourself in the middle of a makeshift dance floor, your arms wrapped around Jonathan’s neck.

He seemed to be in his thoughts, his touch warm on your skin as the two of you messily swayed to the music, your eyes closing. “What are you thinking about, Jon?”

“It’s complicated, sweetheart,” he whispered, sighing when your head found its place on his shoulder.

“Tell me about it, I’m willing to listen,”

He chuckled, his thumb drawing shapes on your back as he tried to find the words, the courage, to tell you he was in love with you. He hadn’t felt like that in ages, so whipped for someone, so willing to give them the world, if they asked. It felt scary, he had never fallen in love that quickly for anyone before, but something in him told him you weren’t a mistake. You were the one.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he mumbled, pressing a small kiss to your shoulder. “And I truly can’t get you out of my mind, in any way I try. You’re my constant thought, no matter where I am or who I am with.

“I wake up every morning, and the first person I see is you. When I come home, you’re there to ask about my day, always smiling,” your body stopped swaying as you listened to his words, the world surrounding you stopping as you focused on the moment. “You’re who I want to see every moment of the day, you’re who I want to wake up next to, and who I want to gift flowers to on Valentine’s day.

“You’re who I want to vent to, and who I want to spend lazy afternoons with. I’ve made mistakes, Y/N, and you’ve always been there to help me through it, to accept my apologies,”

“Jon-” tears were coating your eyes as you realized where he was heading, your heart fluttering.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his hands cupping your cheeks as his eyes stared deeply into yours, softness in his voice. “I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you, and it’s scary,”

“I love you, too, Jonathan,” you whispered, your forehead resting against his as you bit your lip. “So much,”

He didn’t seem to care that you were in the middle of a room filled with people, his eyes were gentle as he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss you had never experienced before, so full of passion and love.

He pulled you closer to his body as he kissed you again, his gentle hand keeping your face close to his by the jaw as he showed you all his love in just one kiss. When you pulled apart, you didn’t care about the people staring at you and him, or the hushed whispers that they were sharing. You just leaned your forehead against his again, catching your breaths in silence as a giggle erupted from your mouth.

“Be mine, baby,” he whispered, smiling down at you. “My one and only,”

“I’m yours, Jon,”

Taglist: @thirstyybitch @bellaguarneri @boqvistsbabe @trashforbarzal @captaindaddies @keithseabrook27

[yutahoes]

Weirdo

main characters: transferee! Yuta Nakamoto, female! surprise character! Y/N  word count: 1.2k words  genre: fluff summary: Being a transferee is hard enough. Being a weirdo is harder.  warnings: slight make-out scene, violence, mention of a sex tape, curse words inspired by Ishigami Yu’s character in the anime ‘Kaguya-sama: Love is war’

CZENNIES’ ANIME BOY BIRTHDAY PROJECT - DAY 20

Yuta could feel the nervousness in his skin as the teacher introduced him to class. It’s already senior year, why should he transfer schools instead of just worrying about college? Now, he had to worry about being friends with the other students. Not that he’s purposely worried about it. He never had any real friends, to begin with. But it’s the middle of the school year and to survive the gruesome world of high school, he needed to blend in.

The teacher asked him to sit on the vacant chair by the back of the class, next to a girl who is all smiles at him. “Hi,” she greeted while giving her name. “We have a pair project for Chemistry. Do you want to be partners with me?” Yuta nodded.

School wasn’t as bad as he initially thought although little problems appear here and there. Besides, his seatmate is being a great help to him. She always reminds him whenever class will start after taking a nap or when it’s dismissal already. She seemed really nice and friendly.

Yuta was staring at his phone. Next month will be the school festival and the president wanted to just talk through Line rather than talking in class which is a real hassle. “Now I have to install Line, it’s such a bother.” he complained.

“Hey,” he turned to see the vice president of the class already changed in her gym clothes. Wait, they have gym class today? “You don’t have Line? Do you want me to send you the updates through Email?” she asked making him nod, apologizing for all the bother. “You better change for gym. Coach is pretty strict.” He thanked her before heading to the classroom to get his clothes.

Opening the door, he saw two students making out by the window. He closed the door immediately, looking stunned at what he witnessed. He didn’t know she is dating someone.

-----

Yuta isn’t sure if she saw him catch their make-out session but she remained friendly with him. Too friendly.

It was lunch break when a male classmate held his shoulder. “New guy, do you want to go to a mixer?” He remembered him, the guy his seatmate is lip-locking with. A mixer? “There will be hot university girls.” But he had a girlfriend, right? “A chance to get laid.”

“But you’re dating…”

The guy smirked. “I already got her virginity. She’s no fun.” What? She’s so kind to him. So friendly. Why is she dating this stupid excuse for a guy? “You should hear her whimpers and how tight her…”

Yuta landed a punch on his face, the other guy’s mouth bleeding while he lie on the floor. “You like her, don’t you?” Again, another punch. The image of her smile etched on his mind as he landed another strong hit on his face.

“Hey! Hey!” he only felt someone hold his shoulder, moving him away from the bloody guy. Their classmates crowd around them. “What happened?” the president asked, next to the worried-looking vice president.

“He started punching me when I told him that I’m in a relationship…” He coughed some blood that made the female students groan in disgust. “I think he likes my girlfriend.”

What is he saying? What the fuck is wrong with this guy? Before he could speak up, a female voice can be heard. “You’re so creepy, Yuta!” The sentence made him stop. Her.

Creepy? Him? “He’s crazy…”

“You’re the one who’s crazy!” She shouted, tears running down her face. “You’re a stalker!” What? His classmates started murmuring ‘He’s so creepy.’ ‘What a weird guy.’ What?

“Yuta, come with me to the faculty room.” the coach claimed, making everyone look at him. Why is he the one in trouble? This is so unfair. He never did anything wrong. That guy deserves a beating.

The coach wanted him to write a letter, an apology to the guy and the confession of his sins. Yet he cannot write a single word. He feels frustrated. Why is he the only one getting punished? If he writes an apology letter, will that guy stop being a jerk? Will this letter protect her? “Shit!” he cursed out loud. This is so fucking frustrating! The ink of the pen fell on the paper yet he still can’t bring himself to write anything. “You need to write,” he whispered to himself. “Or you’ll be expelled.” he reminded himself. But all that’s running in his mind is how unfair everything is. 

The door opened followed by a shining light that almost blinded him. A person’s silhouette can be seen followed by a voice. The guy’s voice telling him all about the mixer and how he took a certain girl’s virginity. “I didn’t know I left my phone recorder on.” The vice president claimed. “He does deserve the beating so don’t write that apology letter.” The surprise was too much for Yuta that he only felt tears falling from his eyes as he listened to the recorded reactions of his classmates. “If it was me, I’ll make sure his mom wouldn’t even recognize his face but losing his front teeth is…”

“Why?” A question came out of him. He’s crazy. He’s a weirdo. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because I have a gut feeling that you’re a nice person to be around with.” He hastily wiped his tears so she walked to where he is, taking the pen from his hand. “Instead of writing an apology…” His eyes widened in surprise as she finished writing large letters on the piece of paper. “You should write this.”

Go to hell!

Yuta chuckled. “I should, shouldn’t I?”

The girl smiled warmly. “I’ll tell the coach about what happened.” She claimed then put her phone in her pocket. “Then I’ll deal with that toothless bastard.” She whispered while cracking her knuckles, creating a loud sound.

Yuta held her hand before she could leave the room. “Please don’t hurt yourself, Y/N.” She smiled, assuring him that it’s a piece of cake and that she’s used to beating people up. A smile came out of his lips. She’s crazy. She’s a weirdo. Like him.

-----

The school festivities started off with the athletic meet and Yuta felt the nervousness he once felt the first day while standing in line for the baton relay. “Yah!” Y/N called that made him smile, turning to her. “Wear your headband.” She even helped him tie the red ribbon around his head. “What’s the use of the anchor without his headband?” She teased and he grinned.

“Yuta!” they both turned to the owner of the voice, Sua, Yuta’s used to be seatmate. “How dare you enjoy the festival when he broke up with me because of you? You have no right to be happy, Yuta!”

“Yah, Sua!” Y/N shouted but Yuta laughed wholeheartedly that made her stop.

“Go to hell, idiot!” The girl looked surprised at the hostility making their classmates smirk at her.

The vice president rolled her eyes when Sua dramatically ran away. “I can’t believe you have a huge crush on that drama queen.”

“Had. Past tense.” He corrected and the girl sighed, telling him that she’ll check on his ‘ex-crush’. The guy held her hand before leaving, “Present crush. If I win, will you go out with me?”

Y/N laughed. “Just win, you weirdo.”

Yuta smiled. He surely will.         

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 5

Masterlist

Shoutout to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my sounding board and beta reader! She's the absolute best a girl could ask for, thanks my love!

Word Count: 3.0k

Recommended song: "The Heart is a Muscle" by Gang of Youths

You woke before the sun, Pierre's bare chest pressed to your back and an arm slung over your middle. You wiggle in his grasp, trying to be sneaky as you turn to face him but ultimately waking him. You run a finger over his lips as they curve upwards before biting lightly. You draw back and he laughs quietly.

"Morning," You whisper, head throbbing slightly. "I feel like I got hit by a train."

"Knocking back four or five shots in a few hours will do that to you." Pierre stretches, arching his back and exposing his neck. The slight mark you left the night before had darkened into a true, unmissable bruise. The reminder of it sent a thrill down your spine, and you couldn't resist ghosting your lips over the hurt.

He sighs, cupping your chin and bringing your mouth up to his. The kiss is lazy, both of you still too ensnared by sleep to put any heat into it. 

You stayed tangled in him until Yuki called to remind Pierre they had to be at the airport by eight. You helped him pack as slowly as you could manage, a stone settling in your gut. When the time came, Pierre hadn’t wanted to leave, only relenting when Yuki called again to say the jet was waiting on him. 

The longing wasn't something that normally hit you this hard when Pierre left. It was new, the edges raw and unhealed when you poked at it. Everything on campus Tuesday reminded you of him, from the sunlight hitting the lab table to the rare cloudless blue of the London sky. 

Just when you’d gotten over the sting of his absence, the news broke. Charles sent you the link to the article, simply captioned, 'You will want to read this.'

Gasly snogs mystery girl in London bar, the headline read. And fuck, that was a grainy picture of you standing between his legs, fingers tangled in his hair. You scroll through the article, heart in your throat, praying you weren’t called out by name.

By some small miracle, whoever had taken the photos hadn’t gotten one of your face. Against your better judgement, you checked the comments.

That was where your name came up. Fans had connected the dots. Your hair had been up that night, but it was the exact same shade as the picture. Your instagram had been filled with photosets of London for months, and Pierre had flown out early before Silverstone. Clearly he had been meeting someone. Anyone with half a brain could figure out that you were the one in the photos, even if the article didn't mention you directly.

The first DM didn’t come for a few hours. It was nasty, the user hurling cruel words at you that struck your chest like tiny knives. Plenty more followed, threats and names alike. 

Gold digger.

Does she really think she deserves him?

He could do so much better.

You couldn’t bear attending classes. You sent Pierre the link to the damning article and stayed in your apartment and sobbed. The fans- if they could even be called such a thing- pulled no punches. Every DM and comment struck home, until you eventually had to turn your phone off and curl up in bed, defeated.

People are cruel, you thought, wiping the tears that streak down your cheeks. 

You kept your phone off for a few hours before you gathered the courage to check it again. You immediately uninstall any and all social media, unwilling to let it affect you further than it already had. But messages pour in, most from Pierre and a few from your brother.

Hell yeah! Was all your brother sent, along with a screenshot of the article. Your mouth twists, the memory of the comments washing over you again.

Pierre’s messages were the ones that broke you. There were close to a dozen of them, accompanied by missed calls and panicked voicemails. 

“Are you okay? Please pick up the phone, my love, I need to hear that you’re okay. I love you. Please call me back.”

The last message, time stamped from a half hour earlier, simply said, “I’m getting on a plane.”

A fresh sob wracks your body. You press a hand to your mouth, trying to silence it. God, he was so pure hearted. You knew the comments would hurt him just as much as they hurt you, if not more. He would blame himself, when in reality, it had been a mutual mistake. Either one of you should have recognized the risks of your actions. But you couldn't let him risk his career for it. You could make it through… somehow.

I’m okay, you type, hating that you had to lie. You don’t need to come to London.

I’m already in the air, He informs you, and you curse softly. He would have hell to pay upon returning to Austria, even if he had somehow convinced Tost to let him leave at the last minute.

I'll be there soon

The flight from Vienna to Heathrow was about two and a half hours, which meant you had that long to pull yourself together. You didn’t want Pierre to see you broken. You shower and change into slightly less ragged sweatpants and an oversized shirt. You grab your laptop, quickly emailing your professors to apologize for missing lecture unannounced and informing them you wouldn’t be there the rest of the week either. You'd need time to sort out your head before facing your peers.

Pierre’s knock came far too quickly. You’d barely assembled your face into a mask of resolve before the door opened. Whatever semblance of control you'd managed to construct came crashing down at the sight of him. He looks just as distraught as you, eyes red and cheeks flushed.

Before he says a word, he gathers you in his arms, tucking your head to his chest. Your lip wobbles, and when he whispers “I’m so sorry,” the tears fall in earnest. For less than a week, you’d been on top of the world with Pierre by your side. You’d gotten to enjoy the idea of being his girlfriend for six days before reality stepped in and ruined it.

You clutch at his shirt, fighting hard to piece yourself back together. Now that he was there, the dam had burst and no amount of willpower could keep the sobs back. 

Pierre sweeps you up, one arm under your knees and the other keeping you tight to him as he carries you to your bedroom. He climbs into bed, shoes and all, and keeps you in his lap as he strokes your hair. He sniffles, softly enough that you know he's trying to be strong for you.  The realization that he's crying too just makes it hurt that much more.

"I'm sorry," He whispers again and again, as if the two syllables were the only ones he remembered. You can't find your voice to tell him you don't blame him or how much his presence means. 

Instead, you press your face into the soft cotton of his sweater. He doesn't move except to stroke a calloused hand over your hair. You let his presence wash over you until your breathing turns more even and your fingers stop trembling. 

"H-how were you able to leave Austria?" Your voice shakes, but you tilt your head up to face him. He quickly wipes away the wetness on his cheeks with a sleeve.

"I just left. The only one I told was Yuki. He said he'd cover for me. I saw the comments and I couldn't think straight. I didn't want you to believe them." The look he turns on you is an apology. "When I called and it didn't even ring, I had to get to you."

"I don't think you'll be welcomed back with open arms," You point out, and he presses a tender kiss to your brow.

"They can be pissed at me all they want. I don't care. I needed to be here." You wouldn't admit it, but he was right. The fact that he'd risked everything to comfort you helped you ignore what those users had said. Nothing could ever erase the words, but Pierre’s presence dulled their impact.

“I already petitioned for the article to be removed,” Pierre says softly. “Don’t know if it’ll amount to anything, but it’s worth a shot.”

You nod and wipe your nose on your sleeve. “It’s so much worse than I imagined.” Pierre’s cheek comes to a rest atop your head, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your arm. “I get that I’m not the only one that loves you. But it’s like they don’t remember that I’m human.”

“People are bold when they're speaking to a screen instead of another person.” 

"It was so much easier before anyone knew," You say, words dipped in longing. Rumors had never swirled when you had kept your distance, you'd made sure of it. But now that the secret was out… Would your life be spent dodging threats and dealing with negativity?

He pauses, thumb stilling. “Do you… Do you want it to go back to the way things were before? When we were... friends?"

Your head whips around. “What?”

“It isn’t fair that you have to go through this because of me,” He explains. “I hate the fact that I’m the one causing you pain. The way you’re being treated is only because I live in the spotlight.”

“It’s not your fault,” You assert, placing a hand on his stubbled cheek. “Please don’t blame yourself.”

“Maybe it would be easier if we-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” You say sternly. You force him to look at you, his eyes storming like the sea. “We’ll figure it out. Our emotions got the best of us last week. We just have to be more careful, keep this behind closed doors. We don’t need to flaunt it, right? Just tell the press that you want to keep your private life private, and I’ll take a break from social media. We can figure it out.”

Pierre nodded in agreement. His voice is scratchy, like he had swallowed gravel. “Alright.”

“It’s us against the world,” You tell him, “And I couldn’t ask for a better teammate.” Your lips ghost against his in an attempt to reassure him. He returns the kiss, firmer and more confident. Your hand slips to the nape of his neck, drawing him in as your tongue glides against his lower lip. 

Last week, you’d fucked. But tonight, the sex was something else entirely. It was soft sighs and languid kisses, whispered words of adoration and promises of endless love. Above all, it was an affirmation. Pierre loved you; heart, mind, and soul. In every sense of the word. He would let nothing come between you and himself. Not his career, jealous fans, or the thousands of miles that may sometimes separate you.

Pierre offered you his heart, and you accepted it without question.

**********

The few precious hours Pierre managed to give you were enough to keep you afloat the rest of the week. The break from seemingly endless lectures helped to reset your mind and give you time to focus on yourself.

Pierre called as often as he could, and texted when he couldn’t. You filled him in on the little things you did to keep busy, like how you spent all of Sunday rearranging your tiny apartment so that your bed was as close to his in Austria as you could get it. Monday night, you fell asleep on Facetime with him as you tried and failed to write a term paper for your architectural history class. 

Pierre’s visit and subsequent calls had made you feel invincible. But the moment you walk into the lecture hall on Tuesday, everyone’s eyes are on you: the first test of your newly minted confidence. Chin held high, you meet a few of their stares and take your usual seat at the front. The moment you start to question yourself, if you're ready to face the scrutiny, your phone buzzes with a text from Pierre.

Ignore them. Remember that I love you. I’ll call you tonight.

Once again, he somehow knew exactly what you needed to hear. It amazed you that a handful of carefully selected words could grant you so much strength. But it was proof that Pierre recognized and accepted your fears and was willing to help you work through them. 

You take a breath, letting the whispers of your classmates fade until they were nothing more than a faint hum. You turn your focus on the professor as she enters, falling into your usual cadence. Easy. You could ignore the gossip until they got tired of it and left you alone. Their fascination couldn’t last more than a few days. 

You made it through the rest of your classes and walked home without incident. No one ran up to you and demanded you explain your relationship with Pierre. Your worst fears had been abated. The stress of it rolls off your shoulders when you make it to your apartment. It was already 7 o’clock, but Pierre hadn’t called yet. Seeing as Austria was an hour ahead, you weren’t sure he would hold to his earlier promise.

Your stomach growls, and you leave your bag next to your bed before heading to the kitchen. Dinner was a box of macaroni and cheese, simple but delicious. You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at your phone every few minutes, hoping to see Pierre’s name on the screen. 

Coming to terms with the fact that you probably wouldn't be getting a call, you settle into your favorite chair and crack open your laptop. Term papers didn't write themselves, and you still had a few thousand words to write. You lost yourself in theories and articles for a few hours before your phone breaks your concentration.

You awake?

A smile splits your face. Yeah. Working on this never ending term paper.

I'll leave you to it. Love you, sleep tight.

You laugh quietly. You agree with his 'school first' mentality most of the time, but there were exceptions to every rule. You call him, heart stuttering when he answers.

"You're supposed to be writing."

"Well, nice to hear your voice too," You say playfully. "It was boring me anyway. Who wants to read twenty pages comparing Roman and Greek columns anyway?"

"I'm pretty sure your professor does," He says with a laugh that warms your bones. If only he were standing in front of you so you could feel his chest rumble beneath your fingertips. Wanting to see his face, you switch to a video call.

"I was wondering how long that would take," He teases, smile wide and welcoming. 

"I miss you," You say softly, padding to your bed. You'd accomplished enough that you could push off writing more until tomorrow. "I wish I could come to Japan this weekend."

"Me too, my love," He responds, voice tinged with longing. "It's one of the more challenging circuits on the calendar. And you've always wanted to visit Tokyo."

You weren't surprised that he remembered that silly dream of yours. "Send me something that reminds me of you." You flick off the lights before climbing under the covers, pulling them up to your chin. "Something cute and sweet."

"I fly out tomorrow night to meet Charles. I should have some extra time to do some window shopping."

"You and Charles going on a date?" You tease, propping your head on a hand. Now that you were cozy, it was hard to keep your eyes open.

He shakes his head. "He's been… helping me with the press. Tackling it all."

"Oh." The mood sours. You decide not to dwell on it, turning to humor instead. "Give him a kiss for me as a thank you."

"He would love that," Pierre laughs. Comfortable silence blankets you, broken only by Pierre humming softly. It was a song you recognize as one of his favorites; it must have been stuck in his head.

"What time do I have to wake up on Sunday?" You mumble, struggling to stay awake while he was unknowingly serenading you.

"Do you want to watch the prerace stuff?" Papers shuffle softly on the other end as he figures it out for you. "If you do, probably like 3:30. If not, the race would be at five your time, so maybe 4:30."

"That's early. You're lucky I love you enough to sacrifice my beauty sleep."

He didn't hesitate before responding. "Luckily you don't need sleep to be beautiful."

Your mouth curls in a sleepy smile. "When you say things like that, I hate the distance between us even more."

Pierre scrubs a hand over his face. "I don't have a break for another month or so."

"I know."

Silence falls again, both of you lost in your own heads.

"You should sleep," He says finally, and you nod. Your first class was only 6 hours from now. "I'll sing to you if you promise to close your eyes and try to sleep."

Despite your best efforts, you yawn. You often called him for a song when you couldn't sleep and the time difference permitted it. Just hearing his voice was soothing enough, but a song? It was heaven. "Shouldn't be hard to do." Sleep came within minutes, Pierre's soft song your lullaby.

Tagging: @flashcal @sunshinesewis

[coffeechangbeanie]

Home Reading 18+

Dilf!Chan, biker!chan, kindergarten teacher!reader

Basically Chris' daughter is in your kindergarten class, and you've been simping whenever he pulls up on his motorbike to pick her up. Plus he's tattooed because I have n e e d s ok? There's a bit of pussy slapping and dirty talk but it's pretty vanilla.

__________________________________

You were standing outside the school, making sure your kindergarten class stayed in line. As the bus pulled up to the side if the road, your kindergarten assistant took her line of bus kids to that side of the parking lot, giving you a lovely view of the parent parking lot. Especially one parent in particular. You composed yourself as you saw Mr. Bang pull up in his motorcycle, his daughter, Yuna, excitedly jumped up and down, accidentally hitting another girl. The girl starts to cry, hitting Yuna back. Hiding your annoyance, you knelt down to Yuna, "Yuna, remember, keep control of your hands." Yuna sheepishly nods. "And Suzie we know not to hit our friends back-"

"Ms. Yn?" A deep voice says behind you, interupting your teacher speech.

You turn around, standing up to see Chris.

His black leather jacket hangs off his shoulders exposing just enough of the head of his surpent tattoo on his neck for you to wonder how far the snake went down his body.

"Ah, Mr. Bang, did you get my email?"

"yes I did, where are we having this impromptu parent teacher meeting?" He says, adjusting his helmet under his arm, a much smaller, sparkly pink one tucked inside.

You see your assistant coming back up the sidewalk. "Right now if ms. Chaeyoung wouldnt mind taking over."

"of course! Go have your meeting," she says, taking your clipboard from you.

You lead the way back inside to you classroom.

The room's walls are lined with students drawings, crafts, and pictures. A whiteboard with the day's letter still up.

"Mr. Bang, today marks the 3rd week her home reading isn't done. In class she's unfocused, hyperactive, and disruptive, I'd like to work with you so we can help her succeed."

Chris rubs his eyes defeatedly, "it's been a tough few weeks, I'll get on the home reading and speak to her about her behaviour."

"thank you, Mr. Bang."

He nods, awkwardly leaving your classroom. You watch him exit the building from the window. Happily picking up Yuna and putting on her helmet for her. He carries her out the his bike as she sits atop his shoulders. You can't help but smile at the cuteness.

It had been a few weeks since your meeting with Chris about Yuna, but you couldn't get the thought of him out if your head. (Not that you could normally, but it was especially bad lately). You know you shouldn't be thinking about one if your student's parent that way but you'd never seen a ring in his finger and Yuna never talked about her mom on the "draw your family" art project...

You were out walking your dog through the playground, the late afternoon sun hanging low in the sky. You hear children giggle as they played.

"Ms. yn!" You look up to see Felix, a parent of another of your students, sitting in a park bench next to Chris. You do a double take when you catch a blush rising up his cheeks.

"Mr. Lee, Mr. Bang," you say, your dog preoccupied with a smell under the bench, "lovely evening for the park innit?"

Felix checks his watch, "speaking of, it's almost dinner time."

"tell your wife I say 'hi'" Chris calls after Felix who's helping his little girl pack up her toys.

"always do!" Felix calls back.

Chris laughs. It's such a genuine laugh, almost like a giggle.

You found yourself fascinated with the sound.

"something on my face?"

You snap out if your daze, "sorry, I just wasn't expecting your laugh to sound like that," you try to laugh away the awkwardness.

It seems to work as Chris relaxes his shoulders, loosening up. He laughs again. The sight of his crinkled eyes as he looks at you makes your heart swell.

"I know it's rather sudden," Chris inhaled sharply, "but would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow? Yuna's having a sleepover at Felix's since it's a Friday-"

"I'd love to!" You cut off his rambling.

"really!?" He asks excitedly with wide eyes.

"yeah I thought you'd never ask," you laugh, "is 7 o'clock a good time?"

"I'll see you then," he says, grinning from ear to ear.

You walk up a set of concrete steps, seeing Chris' bike on the drive as you approach the front door.

The door opens before you have a chance to raise your hand to knock.

Chris looks stunningly sifistocated in his white button up and black jeans, hair styled curly as he invites you inside. He asks to take your coat, more than happy to show off your backless red dress.

"wow," he breaths, taking in the sight.

You smile, "you don't look half bad yourself."

He has a classy dinner already laid in on his dinning room table.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't find a table cloth."

"I don't mind at all," you say, smiling at Yuna's drawings etched into the wood.

Chris pulls out a chair for you, you sit down, thanking him. From this angle you have a good view into an office. You notice a stack of books and recording equipment piled on a desk

"what's the books for?" You ask.

"hm? Oh! Just my university stuff," he says, serving you.

"what are you studying?"

"music production, because I hate working so low down in the company."

You listen to him talk about his degree, how he's been studying for his finals the last few weeks, his job now and Yuna. He fills you in on all the adorable, sweet, and cheeky things his little girl has done. You see the sparkle in his eyes and can't help but reciprocate, she really is a sweet kid.

You find him fascinating in everyway. But your mind wanders a bit, he is also irresistibly sexy with his dark curls in his eyes and shirt showing a bit too much skin. The fact that you're sitting across from him now is enought to make your core wet.

"-sorry I don't mean to talk so much, I just rarely get the chance to have adult conversations, you know living with a 5 year old and what not- and here I go again rambling." He sheepishly resumes eating his dinner.

"not at all! I love listening to you!"

"really?"

"yeah," you say, a bit too breathy.

"that's good," he says staring at your lips. You hadn't realized you'd been biting your bottom one. You decide to bite the bullet instead and press your foot to his crotch. His body goes pliant in his chair for a moment before he silently puts his fork down.

He looks at you, searching your gaze before a dark lustful look comes over him.

He picks up his fork again, "the bedroom is the last room on the left hallway," he says, finishing his last bite of food.

Youve hardly processed his sentence when he speaks again.

"Did you hear me baby girl?"

You nod rapidly, standing up with weak knees going down the hallway.

You find the bedroom. You're inside for less than a second when Chris pushes you against his bedroom wall, kissing you deeply.

"How about you strip for me, let me see how much you want me." He's hardly finished his sentence when you're pulling off your clothes. You struggle to get out of your dress in your eagerness, eventually draping it over a nearby chair, kneeling on the floor, looking up eagerly at him.

"no bra," he breaths, his eyes fucking you.

Chris takes his sweet time unbuttoning his shirt. You can't help but ogle at the sight. Your eyes find the serpent, following it down his chest, the end of its tail still tucked behind his black jeans.

Chris continues the show, slowly dropping his pants and stepping out of them.

So it ends at his knee. You think to yourself.

You can see his leaking dick pressed painful hard against his underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight.

"close your mouth, darling. You'll catch flies." He grins, voice like silk.

"maybe you should close my mouth for me," you test.

He smirks, running the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip.

You take that as permission to pull his boxers down.

"you gonna be a good girl and take all my cock?" He asks smugly.

You nod, stroking his length, leaving kitten licks on his tip.

Chris groans, "feels so good, Yn."

You take his whole length into his mouth, taking him by surprise. he accidentally bucks his hips into your warm mouth.

He moans seeing you choke on his cock for a second.

Chris mumbles an apology as he rest his hand in your hair, feeling the way you bob your head up and down on his thick length.

You bask in his elicit moans, feeling smug knowing you're the one on your knees for him, not any of your co-workers or single moms. You.

He suddenly pulls your head off him. You whine in response. Chris guides you back to your feet, pulling your body against his.

"that was fun baby girl, but now it's your turn," he whispers into your neck, his hard-on dripping against your thigh.

Chris picks you up, tossing you effortlessly on the bed, he kisses down your neck to your boobs, giving each a gentle squeeze before continuing his ministrations down your body. He gives special attention to your thighs, avoiding where you want him most. You catch his drift.

"please Chris, please touch my pussy" you whine.

Chris moans, "such a dirty girl."

"please," you whine again.

Chris lightly brushes his fingers over your womanhood, just barely missing your clit.

You groan in annoyance.

"touch me harder, Chris please!"

He lands a harsh but not painful slap on your dripping cunt. You moan, gripping his bicep as a wave of pleasure hits you.

"like that, baby girl?"

You nod rapidly.

Chris kisses your pussy lips, before slapping you again, you don't have time recover when he lands a third.

Chris presses his tongue against your clit. You watch his eyes flutter closed as he eats you out like he didn't just finish dinner.

He inserts 2 fingers, making you scream in pleasure.

He pistons his fingers in and out of your soaked heat while sucking harshly on your clit.

It quickly becomes too much, you come on his fingers with a moan of his name

Chris doesn't stop, he slows down while you ride out your orgasm but picks up the pace when you start squirming.

After your third orgasm, pulls his fingers out, you whine in protest.

"I can't take it anymore," he groans, whipping a drawer open and cracking a fresh box of condoms.

You watch his fingers, still slick with your come open the wrapper.

"first time using one of these," he nervously giggles when he catches your gaze.

You take the condom from him, sliding it down his thick length. His erection twitching in your hand.

You sense the anxiety in the air.

You lay on your back, pulling him on-top.

"fuck me Chris," you moan.

He groans as he guides his dick in you.

You moan when he bottoms out.

He starts off slow, letting you feel all of his length. As he gains confidence, he quickens his pace until you're screaming his name.

He slows his thrusts just long enough to make you squirm before his hips resume pistoning in you. The pleasure knocking the wind out of you.

"feels so good, Chris," you moan, tangling a hand in his hair. Your other hand moving down his back, feeling his back muscles flex with every jerk of his hips.

"fuck Yn, I'm going to come."

You've lost the ability to speak, responding only by moaning.

You both come at the same time, feeling him relax onto you.

After a moment of heavy breathing and gentle kisses later, Chris pulls out. He throws out the condom standing up. He pulls one of his clean black tees over your exhausted form. He tucks you into bed with him.

"that was amazing, Yn, thank you."

"you're very welcome, I thoroughly enjoyed myself," you chime. Chris giggles, his thumb rubbing circles on your thigh.

You laugh, burying your head into the crook of his neck.

He wraps his arms around you as you trace his snake tattoo from his neck down to his side to his leg.

He pulls you into a gentle but passionate kiss, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders.

"can I ask a question, Chris?" You ask between kisses.

"shoot."

"what happened to Yuna's mom?"

Chris took a deep breath, you cringed at yourself for letting curiousity get the better of you.

"she was a fling in my senior year of high school, when she got pregnant and didn't want the baby, I said I'd take her. Yuna's never met her mom."

"I didn't know, I'm so sorry."

"don't be." He smiled, "I think you'd make a much better mom for her."

"really?"

"if that's what you want!" Chris rushed, realizing what he just said.

"that is what I want," you say, kissing his lips.

"does that mean you'll do her home reading for me?"

You laugh, nodding.

_______________________________________________

_______________________________________________

Ugh I feel like this is trash lmao I tried. Ive volunteered in kindergarten before so I tried to make the dialogue work but idk if it did, I wrote this instead of sleeping. It's also been a very long time since I've written in "novel" format since I'm practicing screenplays rn oof so I'm sorry if this sucks. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! And thank you to @lovebini for the giggling suggestion!

-Elle

[sunaswife]

Summary: It’s been five years since you’ve seen your ex, Rin. He’s still not over you and you’re not over him. When he finds out you have children he thought he didn’t have a chance. Then he finds out they’re his? All of a sudden you’re teaching Suna how to be a single dad.

note from denise: TAGLIST CLOSED

Warnings: Fluff, angst I guess, drama, and cuteness twin overload

Previously Up Next Masterlist

Chapter seven

“Alrighty give mommy kissy.” You squatted down. Both of your kids tackled you in a hug and they kissed your cheeks. You kissed them back and pulled away. You watched as they walked to the bus.

Even though they’re homeschool, they offered a program where your kids can still go to class in person once a week so they can socialize and it won’t affect their mental health. After talking to another mother who put her kids in the same program, she recommended it and you decided that it was best.

Your kids already socialized in their volleyball practice but it wouldn’t hurt for them to talk more with other kids.

You saw as Rini helped his sister up the bus first and blocked the back of her skirt from showing her shorts underneath and you lowkey wanted to cry because he was such a gentleman. He then got in and they sat together on the right side of the bus and they waved you goodbye. You waved back and the bus began to leave.

You sighed and turned back home. You washed this morning’s dirty dishes and cleaned a bit around. After you were satisfied with the presentation of your house, you made your way to your small studio office and began answering more emails and writing topics for the new podcast episode you and Jamie had to record.

You took another sip of your barley warm tea and finally you heard the doorbell ring. You glanced at the time on your watch and realized it wasn’t 12 yet, it was probably Jamie.

You carried your laptop and placed it on the dining table and ran to the door. “I’m coming!” You yelled as Jamie rang the bell again. You opened the door revealing your two best friends and you were shocked to see Hana. She’s your best friend from highschool, the one who blocked the boy’s numbers and let you spend the night when you got kicked out.

She was also the one who was rooting for you and Suna but she was more than furious when she found out what happened. You called her on New Years and started balling your eyes out.

You told her to never date boys cause they sucked but little did you know she had a big crush on you. You were her first love.

I guess you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. So when Rin started to take your attention, she felt jealousy and loneliness but your happiness mattered more than her selfishness.

She became a fashion major in University but dropped out because she didn’t like what they were teaching. With the bit she learned and already knew, she turned into art. She made beautiful leather pieces of lingerie with straps and belts and lace and the models needed dramatic makeup and hair. And you happened to know an amazing makeup artist.

That’s where Jamie came in.

And eventually they fell in love.

Hana is always busy with her lingerie company since everything is hand crafted and not made in a factory like Jamie’s makeup products. So that’s why it was a shock to see her here during the day at least. “Come in come in. Mi casa es su casa.” You said in broken Spanish and they laughed.

Jamie sat on the dining table and sighed. She rubbed her baby bump and you asked if she wanted something to drink. You got her water as well as some wine for Hana. “So they’re really coming over?” Hana asked as she opened Jamie’s laptop and set it up for her wife.

“Yeah I hope so. If they flake I’m not gonna give him another chance. I already told the kids he’ll be here and they’re excited.” You said and she nodded. “Good.” Hana replied. You and Jamie began reading eachothers notes and topics regarding the podcast. “I think Hana is gonna have to take my place on the podcast if I pop.” Jamie mentioned randomly.

“Hell no.” Hana immediately said. “That’s a you two thing I’m not getting into it.” Hana said sternly. “But Hana, since Jamie got pregnant. You didn’t have a face for your spicy lingerie line. So I temporarily replaced her. Surely you could do the same!” You exclaimed and she rolled her eyes. “Speaking of lingerie I have something I want you to try for the next photoshoot. I’ll go get it after my smoke.” She said and you rolled your eyes with a nod.

“It’s pretty hot, like a harness thing on your wrist that connects to your thighs.” Jamie spoke up as Hana left. “Where does Hana come up with these things?” You asked and Jamie made a smirky face. “Nevermind I don’t wanna hear about your guy’s sex life.” You shuttered and she snickered.

Hana got out your front door, walked to her fancy Mercedes and took out the gift wrapped box as well as her favorite pack of smokes. She sat on the small bench in the front of your house and she lit the lighter, breathing in the nicotine. She sighed and wondered if you’re going to be okay with your ex seeing his kids.

If it was her she would refuse to let him see them and take it to court. But you weren’t like that. You always had hope and patience that you’d meet Suna again someway somehow.

She heard a car door slam and looked up to see the three tall figures get out of a car. She exhaled the smoke and they looked up to see her. “It’s been a long time, huh?” She tilted her head to the side and Suna scratched the back of his neck as he neared. “Hana I—I’m sorry for everything.” He said. “I trusted you with my best friend and you hurt her. I don’t think I could ever forgive you for hurting my first love like that.” She spoke bitterly and put out the cigarette in the small froggy bowl turned ashtray that the twins made.

“First love?” Osamu asked and Hana stayed quiet and motioned for them to follow her. Suna didn’t know what to say, after you left Hyogo Suna began bugging her for answers and she went off on him once and that’s when he realized that Hana was gay and in love with you the whole time.

Immediately when the door opened they heard yelling and singing. Obviously confused the boys looked at eachother but Hana seemed unfazed, she’s used to her wife’s chaotic nature and even though you’re pretty quiet and collected you make a complete 360 with Jamie around. You were both like Yin and Yang.

“Shh she’s been trying to get this song down for weeks.” Hana whispered as the boys followed through the small hall. They looked at the photos that adorned the wall and they saw baby photos of Suna’s kids and they truly looked like him. From the corner of his eye, Suna saw a photo of you with Shawn Mendes and smiled that you finally had a chance to meet your celebrity crush.

Suna nor the twins didn’t know what to expect when they saw you again. But they were shocked to see you in your true nature with studio headphones over your ears as you sang each note higher and higher. Jamie was yelling and slamming the table with her palm encouraging you to keep on going. Jamie used to do that in parties, drinking games were her favorite.

You finally finished the song and you took off your headphones and started screaming. “SIX WEEKS IT TOOK ME SIX FUCKING WEEKS TO COPY IT TO A T! I DID IT OH MY GOD!” You yelled and Jamie yelled again too. “BITCH I TOLD YOU YOU COULD DO IT BUT YOU-“

“SELF-“ punch

“DOUBT-“ punch

“ALL-“ punch

“THE-“ punch

“TIME!” punch

“Alright alright I get it goddamn—if you weren’t pregnant you know I would punch you just as hard.” You scowled as you rubbed your arm. “Sorry y/n.” She apologized and chuckled. “We’re not interrupting right?” Hana spoke up causing you and Jamie to turn. The three men stood behind her and your face fell. The air shifted and you suddenly felt cold.

“No just work stuff.” You said and you quickly stood up. “Welcome to my home. You’re welcome to sit at the table.” You said and closed your laptop. “Would you like anything to drink..?” You asked, trying to be hospitable and Hana scoffed. “Give them water, you don’t have to be nice to them.” Hana said and she sat by Jamie. You bit the inside of your cheek and looked at the three men. “Water is fine..” Suna spoke up and the twins nodded.

“Sit.” Jamie said and motioned to the dining chairs. They all sat awkwardly while waiting for you to come back from the kitchen. You had your tray with their water, more tea for you and Jamie, and a glass of wine for Hana.

“Alright where do we start..” you said as you sat down next to Suna since that was the only empty spot. “The beginning.” Jamie shrugged. “I already explained what happened. I told her everything.” Jamie told the boys and immediately Atsumu scowled. “Knowing you you probably made yourself sound less bad.” He muttered, immediately Hana was about to say something but you interrupted. “Did you make the bet?” You asked the blonde, “Y..Yeah..” he frowned and shifted in the seat awkwardly, “Did you accept the bet?” You turned to Suna. “Yes..” he said guiltily. “Did you think Suna would win?” You asked Osamu. “Yeah.” “Jamie Did you think pissy— I mean Atsumu would win?” You asked her and she sighed a yes. “And did you all bet with money?” You asked. They all replied with yeahs and yes’s.

“Did you guys agree to quit because it was wrong?” You asked and they all nodded. “Then that’s all that happened. I don’t need to know anything else.” You explained.

“Look guys.” Jamie spoke up and she tapped her manicured fingers on the table nervously. “It took a long ass time for Y/N to forgive me and trust me, I ruined her life and I’m blessed to have met her. Without her I’d probably still be in an abusive relationship. Without her I wouldn’t have learned how to be humble and grateful for even waking up in the morning. She’s my best friend and I’m telling you straight up if you truly want to be her friend again. You need to work for it, Suna if you really want to be in the kids lives and earn Y/N’s trust you truly need to work for it.” she said almost desperately.

“If you ever disrespect her again. I will not hesitate to sock you in the face and I’ll call up Tobio if I have to. That goes for all of you.” Hana told the three men.

“Do you guys have anything to say?” You asked. “I would apologize but I’d rather let you see it than hear it.” Suna spoke up and you nodded. “Alright.” You said simply.

“I’m sorry, Y/N-cha—I mean Kageyama.” Atsumu said. “I’m sorry Kageyama.” Osamu finished and you nodded once more.

“Okay this is awkward. I forgave you guys a long time ago but I don’t trust either of you. Atsumu, Osamu you are not obligated to be my friend. Suna you aren’t obligated to be my friend either but I would appreciate it if we were civil with one another for the sake of the kids. If you ever have any questions regarding the kids I’ll be happy to answer.” You told him as you played with the tea bag in your cup, and they all stared at you.

Like that’s it? You forgive them? You’re not going to throw your tea at them?

“Um I kind of want to ask about the ya know..”

“Pregnancy?” Hana raised a brow and Suna nodded awkwardly. “Like when did you find out....and is that why you left?” He asked. “If its alright can we talk about that in private?” You asked and stood up. “Y-yeah sure.” Suna stuttered and he stood up as well. “Hana, Jamie you don’t mind—“ “The bus honks at 13:30 we know. We’ll be able to hear it.”

“Yeah and we have a lot of catching up to do.” Jamie fake smiled and you wanted to snort at the her disgust and their awkwardness. “Alright follow me.” You motioned down the hall. You opened the door to the kids room and you took a step in. He followed you and closed the door. You both released a sigh and you sat on Akira’s bed. “You can sit there.” You motioned to your sons bed.

He nodded and sat on the small bed. “Okay so..the pregnancy..” you started. “Mhm.” He nodded. “I found out on January 25th, I wasn’t feeling the best for a while and I couldn’t handle the discomfort anymore so I went to the hospital with my mom. The doctor asked me the basic sex questions and tested my urine. My mom came into the room when I was told the news and I was basically disowned.” You sighed and leaned back against the wall.

You hugged your knees to your chest. He could already feel the shame you must have felt in his chest. “I had to walk to the pharmacy in my school uniform to get to prenatales since my mom told me to walk home. When I finally arrived home, my room was trashed and they were asking if you happened to be the dad. I told them no. He even threatened to kick me out and I told him I didn’t know so I was kicked out and I left. I spent the night at Hana’s and the next day I resigned as the team’s manager, and gathered all my papers to transfer.” You said and he rubbed his face and sighed.

His birthday.

You found out on his birthday.

He patiently listened and asked a few questions here or there and before you knew it you barley heard the faint foot steps and the door bursting open. You both turned to see your guy’s kids standing there. “See I told you they were talking.” Akira mumbled. “Aunt Hana said something about them making out.” Rini huffed.

“She said making up not out! Are you an idiot or an idiot?!” Akira said slightly frustratedly. “I’m older than you, don’t call me an idiot.” He said and shoved her. Before you could scold your son, you saw Akira’s whole demeanor change and you knew Rini was fucked. “How many times has mom said to stop shoving girls and pushing women! If you keep at it than you’re going to be a bad husband to your future wife someday you stupid Rabbit!” She yelled as she tackled him and began smacking him around. “Get off me you nerd!” He yelled and you quickly pulled Akira away.

Rini began crying and Akira did too and you sighed and turned to Suna.

“Welcome to parenthood.”

🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @sarahvvictoria @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @iloveanime691 @tpwkatsumu @ohshirabu @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu @hidden-otaku-stuff @seijohiselite @caxsthetic @aquariarose @hhwanggu @bakuhoetoedoroki @yoozuku @osamus-onigiri @akaashi-todorki @donica95 @kakaokenma @airheadpillar

[whitehotharlots]

A movement that cannot be criticized cannot achieve positive goals

The hardest part of talking about malignant trends on the broad left is that, well, you’re not allowed to talk about them. It’s no exaggeration to say that criticism has become fully conflated with violence. If you attempt to engage critically with a left-liberal writer--regardless of how thorough and respectful you may be, and regardless of how powerful, public, or insulated the subject of the criticism--you will be accused of dismissing and erasing the writer, of inciting violence against the writer, and of committing some form of genocide against whichever identity groups the writer belongs to.

Conversely, if you don’t provide specifics, you’ll be accused of making stuff up. The same people who claim it’s an act of aggression to ask for proof when they make claims of victimization turn into immense pedants the moment they encounter a heterodox opinion. 

Unsurprisingly, a discourse milieu in which critical analysis is forbidden is a prime breeding ground for unsustainable (and even horrific) behavioral standards. Never mind improving the world that exists outside their sphere of influence... these people are perpetually on the brink of destroying their allies, their institutions, and themselves.

Today I dug into an especially profane case that highlights both of these points. It’s a matter of public record, so I hopefully won’t get accused of “doxing” anyone for discussing it. It’s also the sort of story where if someone cares about it, they’ll have an opinion of it within a second or two of reading a headline describing what happened. This means it’ll only be of interest to the sort of cranks who read this blog. My goal here isn’t to express outrage or advocate for one side or other--although it is outrageous, and you won’t have to try too hard to see which side I favor. Instead, I’m going to try to move beyond that, to use this instance as a broader cautionary tale in regards to the more horrific tendencies of the identitarian left, and to begin formulating some means of resistance. 

In other words, this might get boring. Even more so than usual. 

The story involves a court case, documented here, in which a young man named Kieran Bhattacharya is suing the University of Virginia Medical School. Mr. Bhattacharya (a white supremacist name if I’ve ever heard one) was subjected to formal censure, repeated psychological evaluations, suspension, and eventual expulsion. This all happened because he raised some concerns after a White Fragility-inspired panel on microaggressions.

This is one of those cases where both sides are going to assume there’s a lot more going on beneath the surface and, like I said, are going to be disinclined toward actually reading the available evidence. Thankfully, the court brief is fairly exhaustive and--importantly--the account provided in the brief has received the approval of both plaintiff and defendant. To stress, everyone involved in this case agrees, legally, that the account provided herein is an accurate picture of what happened. Additionally, we also have audio of the initial microaggression seminar (Mr. Bhattacharya’s comments start at around the 28:30 mark), as well as of the pursuant committee meeting that ended in his expulsion. 

Here is the initial exchange, as documented by the brief:

Bhattacharya: Hello. Thank you for your presentation. I had a few questions just to clarify your definition of microaggressions. Is it a requirement, to be a victim of microaggression, that you are a member of a marginalized group? 

Adams: Very good question. And no. And no— 

Bhattacharya: But in the definition, it just said you have to be a member of a marginalized group—in the definition you just provided in the last slide. So that’s contradictory. 

Adams: What I had there is kind of the generalized definition. In fact, I extend it beyond that. As you see, I extend it to any marginalized group, and sometimes it’s not a marginalized group. There are examples that you would think maybe not fit, such as body size, height, [or] weight. And if that is how you would like to see me expand it, yes, indeed, that’s how I do. 

Bhattacharya: Yeah, follow-up question. Exactly how do you define marginalized and who is a marginalized group? Where does that go? I mean, it seems extremely nonspecific.

 Adams: And—that’s intentional. That’s intentional to make it more nonspecific . . . . 

After the initial exchange, Bhattacharya challenged Adams’s definition of microaggression. He argued against the notion that “the person who is receiving the microaggressions somehow knows the intention of the person who made it,” and he expressed concern that “a microaggression is entirely dependent on how the person who’s receiving it is reacting.” Id. He continued his critique of Adams’s work, saying, “The evidence that you provided—and you said you’ve studied this for years—which is just one anecdotal case—I mean do you have, did you study anything else about microaggressions that you know in the last few years?” Id. After Adams responded to Bhattacharya’s third question, he asked an additional series of questions: “So, again, what is the basis for which you’re going to tell someone that they’ve committed a microaggression? . . . Where are you getting this basis from? How are you studying this, and collecting evidence on this, and making presentations on it?”

You can listen to the audio if you like. There’s nothing there, in my opinion, that is not captured accurately in the written description. Bhattacharya does not yell or raise his voice. He sounds skeptical, but in no way violent or threatening. Nor does Adams, the presenter, signal that she is experiencing anything that approaches fear or trauma. 

Immediately after the event, a professor who helped organize the discussion filed a “Professionalism Concern Card”--a cute academic euphemism for a disciplinary write up--against Bhattacharya, alleging he had displayed a troubling lack of respect for differences (the irony here probably does not need to be explicated).

Soon after that--literally still the same day of the panel--Bhattacharya received an email from faculty asking him to “share his thoughts” so as to help him “understand and be able to cope with unintended consequences of conversations.” The tone of the email is polite and professional, but the text hints toward an attempt at entrapment. You’ll see this a lot in woke spaces--invitations to come to an understanding with one another that are, in actuality, attempts to get a person to say something cancellable.

Bhattacharya took the bait, and, well… 

During Bhattacharya and Peterson’s one-hour meeting, Peterson “barely mentioned” Bhattacharya’s questions and comments at the panel discussion. Dkt. 33 ¶ 73. Instead, Peterson attempted to determine Bhattacharya’s “views on various social and political issues—including sexual assault, affirmative action, and the election of President Trump.” 

At this point, the kid was fucked. He soon after had an uneventful-seeming meeting with a dean. Two weeks after that, a separate panel found him guilty of “patterns of unprofessional behavior and egregious violations of professionalism” and strongly encouraged him to seek psychological counseling. 

Pre-Trump, Bhattacharya still probably would have been fine if he had just kept his head down, gone to a couple therapy sessions, and maybe issued an empty apology. Since 2016, however, the rules have changed. An accusation is now absolute proof of guilt and no amount of ablution can save someone in a vulnerable position. 

Eleven days after receiving the ostensible suggestion that he receive counseling, Bhattacharya was informed that he would not be permitted to return to classes until he had been evaluated. A day after that--before even having the opportunity to seek the mandated counseling--he was given a mere 3 hours notice before having to attend another disciplinary committee meeting. 

This meeting found that Bhattacharya’s continuing behaviors were proof that he posed an imminent danger to the campus community, although the committee did not bother to explain what those behaviors entailed. His behavior was simply noted as “unusual” and this was proof that “Any patient that walked into the room with [Bhattacharya] would be scared.” The following day, Bhattacharya was forcibly removed from campus and told he could not return until he had been screened. He was, subsequently, not allowed to receive sanctioned screening, because of his status of having been removed from campus after being deemed a security risk.

Again, none of what I have described is an exaggeration. None of these details are even being contested. 

Now for my own conjecture: the problem isn’t that anyone genuinely believes Bhattacharya poses a threat to anyone’s safety. The problem is that he attempted to question the ideological firmaments of contemporary anti-racist training. These firmaments are protected with aggressive viciousness precisely because they cannot withstand scrutiny. Had Bhattacharya merely scoffed at them, or even if he had been outright condescending and dismissive, he probably would not have received such a severe punishment. The problem was that he was right, and his accusers knew it.

Understanding speech in the manner prescribed by the peddlers of microaggression theory cannot possibly be codified in a way that won't result in arbitrary punishment. Bhattacharya’s experience demonstrates that with horrific irony. 

The assertion here is that the intention of a speech act should have no bearing on how we adjudicate the morality of that speech act--such a point was made repeatedly in the initial discussion, and stressed once again after Bhattacharya’s concerns have been raised. This standard contradicts how we've processed the morality of speech for centuries, but that's what people are very explicitly demanding.

How is this workable, when literally any statement could, conceivably, be considered offensive by at least one individual? This, I feel, was the point Bhattacharya reaching toward. If you were to say, I dunno, "I love trees" to a group of 1000 people, 999 of them could regard that statement as benign. But what if one person takes offense to it? What if they work in the lumber industry, or they were molested by guy in a Smokey the Bear costume? What if that person then files a report accusing the tree lover of offensive speech? Will the speaker be disciplined? Or will the powers that be take intention and effect into account?

Of course, we're not going to criminalize all speech in this way. Like all extreme and broad-reaching disciplinary standards, this one will only be selectively evoked in order to punish people with heterodox opinions and/or those whose presence threatens the status quo. Someone who says something much more incendiary, like "all men are rapists" or "white people shouldn't get social security" would not receive a reprimand regardless of how much offense their statements caused, because they're saying something that's acceptable in our current milieu. And right now, the least acceptable speech is that which shines a light on the manifest flaws and hypocrisies of corporate anti racism. 

Back to my hypothetical example, if the tree-loving speaker was on good terms with everyone, the complaint would most likely be ignored. But if he had said or done other things that for whatever reason displeased the people in charge, the specious accusation could still ruin him. What's worse, the person who filed the allegation of offense might not have even actually taken offense at the statement--they were just looking for a way to get rid of him.

Bhattacharya was attempting to voice legitimate criticisms about a political movement whose suggestions are functionally unworkable and that, even if it were implemented fully and uncritically, does not contain even a hypothetical explanation in regards to how its goals would result in improved racial equality/equity. Because of that, he was cynically labeled dangerous and expelled from a public university. 

You'd think a group that obsesses over power differentials and their own marginalization would have some grasp of this. Regardless of which side you fall into with this particular culture war, it should fucking terrify you that a movement that’s been tasked with addressing pressing social problems is designed in such a way that any substantial criticism is met with aggressive punishment. 

There’s no way you can win if this is you is how conduct yourself. This is why we’re losing. This is why even if you get all the censorship and deplatforming you can ever dream of, even if every major bank and multinational corporatation professes fealty to your movement, you will still lose. Because there’s no way you can win. 

[babybluebex]

of pubs and profs pt.2 [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: professor!tom x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 2.7k ➽ summary: for some reason, you just can’t say no to tom holland, even if you know that it’ll end in sadness.   ➽ warnings: explicit language, mentions of sm!t ➽ a/n: you all voted for opap pt.2, so here it is!! enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio!

Your heart was in your throat for the entirety of class, and it only got worse when Tom dismissed the class. You had been terrified for when class ended and you had to talk to Tom. You gathered your stuff in your bag and lingered awkwardly. Once when the room was empty, Tom got up from his place at his desk and shut the door, and then he turned to you. “I think we should… Address the obvious here,” he started. “I want you to know that I like you. I really do, but--”

“But we can’t be together,” you supplied quickly. “I know. I should’ve asked what your job was.”

“Well, there was no reason for you to,” Tom said. His eyes were focused on you, and the contact was too much; you looked down at your lap. As cliche as it was, seeing his pretty eyes only reminded you of your night and the way they glittered as he looked down at you. “I… I feel partially responsible. I knew that you were the right age to be a student, I just didn’t think about it, I was so distracted and blinded by…”

“By…?” You said. “By what?” 

Tom shrugged. “You,” he said. “You are so beautiful, and… I was distracted by my own desires and wasn’t thinking rationally. Please don’t blame yourself; I’m as responsible as you are.” 

You chewed the inside of your cheek, and you mumbled, “Guess we gotta break up, huh?” 

“Would be for the best,” Tom agreed. “That being said, you… You left something at my apartment.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What?” you asked. 

Tom laughed, his cheeks growing red. “You seem to have left your panties,” he said. “I put them through the wash, they’re all clean for you. Unless you’d rather me keep them...?” 

You had noticed that you left your panties at his apartment, but that was the plan. In the best circumstances, you would have called him that night and asked about them, and you would have had an excuse to go back and retrieve them. However, given everything, you would need them back. “No, no,” you said. “You can keep them. Throw them away. Whatever.” 

“Are you sure?” Tom asked. “They seem expensive.”

“Just keep them,” you said softly. “‘Cause how would I get them? Go to your apartment? You’d bring them to class? There’s no way to do that innocently.” 

Tom sighed. “You’re right, I guess,” he said. “Well, at least one of us has our head on straight.” 

You tilted your head in confusion, and Tom added, “It’s so, so wrong, but, darling… I was so happy with you. That sounds stupid, but I slept easy with you in my arms. I had gotten into a habit of not sleeping at all, but you made me feel happy and safe and comfortable enough to… Anyway. I have feelings for you, my darling, and I can’t just overlook them.” 

“Tom, we can’t,” you whispered. “You could lose your job, I could get expelled. I like you a lot too, but we just can’t.” 

Tom nodded, and he wrung his hands together. He was perched on the corner of his desk like at the beginning of class, and he said, “You’re right. You’re right, darling. You’re so smart… Well, I have my phone number in the syllabus in the event that email goes down, so there’s an excuse for having my number in your phone. I… I will see you on Friday, then, Ms. Y/L/N.” 

You nodded. “See ya, Dr. Holland.”

“Alright, tell me about Tom.” 

A pang of sadness hit your chest, and you looked up from your computer at Zendaya. “What?”

“Your new boyfriend,” Zendaya said, playfully jabbing your ribs. “I wanna hear about him.” 

“Oh,” you started. You were dying to tell her all about the scandal that you had found myself in, but you were scared to admit it. “Well, his name is Tom. He’s from London.” 

“How old is he?” Zen asked. 

“Umm…” you started. “In his mid-twenties.”

Zendaya nodded. “His job?” she asked next. “Does he have one?”

“Yeah, yeah, he does,” you mumbled under your breath. “You… You can’t tell anyone this.” 

“Ooh, is it juicy?” She asked, readjusting herself on the couch for the incoming gossip. 

“Yeah,” you said. “He’s a… Umm, a professor.” 

“At our university?” Zen asked, and you nodded. “What does he teach?”

You swallowed thickly. “English lit.”

“Oh, does he know this Dr. Holland guy?” She asked. “I have his class tomorrow morning; you had him this morning, right?”

You sucked in air through your teeth as shame filled your chest. “I did, yep,” you said. “And he does know Dr. Holland… Because he is Dr. Holland.” 

Zendaya sat for a moment, blinking at you. “You…” she started. “You fucked our professor?”

“I didn’t know he was our professor when I fucked him,” you scoffed. “C’mon, Zen, give me more credit than that! But we talked after class and we broke up. It’s better, ya know?” 

“Oh my God,” Zendaya laughed. “Oh, that’s really funny, Y/N. You fucked our professor, that’s--”

“Alright, stop,” you said. Your phone buzzed against your thigh, but you paid it no mind. “I’m in mourning right now, just…” 

“Oh,” Zen mumbled. “Shit. You really liked this guy, huh?” 

“I did,” you nodded. “Like… Love at first sight. That’s stupid, but… I really, really liked him, and not just because he was good in bed. He was sweet and funny and so handsome, and we really got along. I... “ Your phone buzzed again, and you looked down to see a flurry of text messages from Big Dick Tom. “Oh, Jesus, he’s texting me.” 

10:32PM - Big Dick Tom: I’m so sorry. 10:32PM - Big Dick Tom: I’m such an asshole please  10:34PM - Big Dick Tom: Please take me back. 

10:36PM - Y/N: you shouldn’t be texting me right now. i already told you, i can’t be with you. 

“He seems drunk,” Zendaya said, and you tilted your phone away from her. 

“Invasive,” you chuckled, but your heart still sank. She was right; he did seem like he was drinking. 

10:37PM - Big Dick Tom: I’m so sorry darling. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. 

10:38PM - Y/N: you didn’t. just leave it alone.

Before you could properly close the conversation, your phone began to ring with a call. “Christ,” you mumbled. “He’s calling me now.” 

“Put it on speaker,” Zendaya said, and you batted her away. 

“What did I say about you being invasive?” you said, but did as she asked anyway. “Tom, what’re you--”

“I’m the biggest asshole in the world,” Tom said quickly. “Please, darling, please forgive me.” 

“It’s already done, Tom,” you told him. “You’re forgiven. You really can’t keep texting me and calling me like this.” 

“I know!” Tom sighed. “It’s fuckin’… God. I miss you.” 

“I’m gonna hang up,” you said quickly. 

“No, please don’t,” Tom whimpered out. “I just miss you. You’re so pretty and smell so nice, and I loved sleeping next to you. Can we meet somewhere? I wanna see you. I miss you.” 

“It’s half ten,” you sighed. “Nowhere’s open. And we can’t do that anyway, we can’t be seen together--” 

“Oh, fuck off!” Tom groaned. His accent was thick, his voice low, and you swallowed thickly. The sound of it was attractive, and you couldn’t stop the thought of him whispering in your ear with that voice, a hand in your hair and the other… 

Your train of thought was completely derailed when you heard a shattering from Tom’s end of the call. “Tom!” you exclaimed. “What was that? Are you okay?” 

“Threw a bottle,” Tom mumbled. 

“Christ,” you whispered. “You’re drinking, aren’t you?” 

“You know something? I am,” Tom said. “Why do you care, though? It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

“I care about you, you dick,” you told him. “You’re acting like this isn’t hard for me too. I told you that we had something special, Tommy, and, if things were different… Ya know? I like you, you piece of shit, just… Christ, I’m coming over.” 

“Why?” Tom asked. 

“Because I don’t think you can be alone right now,” you said. “You’re drunk and throwing things.”

“What happened to ‘we can’t be seen together’?” Tom asked. 

“Do you want to see me or not?” you asked. 

There was silence for a few long moments, and you almost thought that you had misread the situation. Then, Tom said, “I do. How soon will you be here?”

“Give me like half an hour,” you said. “Please don’t do anything stupid until I get there.” 

You remembered the way to Tom’s apartment, and you got there quickly. You had to knock on his day and wait for him to answer, and your heart sank deep when he revealed himself. Sweatpants and a t-shirt, his hair undone and frizzy with unkempt curls, his cheeks red with drink. He was holding his hand away from his body oddly, and you saw thin streaks of blood on his fingers and palm. “Hi,” Tom said simply. 

“What happened?” you asked, taking his hand in yours. You saw a little glimmer of green glass in one of the cuts, and you tugged him to the bathroom, kicking the door shut. “Did you really smash a bottle?”

You sat Tom on the edge of the bathtub and began to look through the medicine cabinet for anything that could help bandage up his hand. “Felt like it,” Tom sniffed. 

“Jesus,” you whispered. “Tommy, listen, we both know how terrible this is, but getting angry like this isn’t gonna help anything. Fuck, do you have any antiseptic?” 

“Under the sink,” Tom told you. “I wish things were different.” 

“Me too,” you admitted. You retrieved the bottle and a few cotton balls, along with a set of tweezers and a roll of gauze, and you sat down in front of him. Carefully, you pulled his injured hand towards you, and you began to extract the glass bits with care. Tom winced every so often and you apologized, and, finally, once that bit was done, you began to clean up the cuts. 

“I…” you began. “I should drop your class.”

“Why?” Tom asked. “Am I… Do I make you uncomfortable?” 

“No, no, no,” you said quickly. “Not at all. I just can’t focus. I’ll never pass.” 

“Why can’t you focus?” Tom asked. “Is someone giving you a hard time?”

You had to remind yourself that Tom had been drinking. “You are, doofus,” you scoffed. “I can’t focus on the lecture when you’re the one giving it. If I stay, I’m gonna need tutoring out the ass.” 

Tom pulled his hand away from you with a gasp, and you almost thought that you had hurt him, but the smile on his thin lips said differently. “That’s how we do it,” he said. “Tutoring. I tutor you! We get to meet at least once a week outside of class, in my office, alone… Would you want that, my darling?”

Your knee-jerk reaction was to say yes. After all, you did want to be with Tom, but anxiety kept you from instantly agreeing. “What if we get caught?” you asked. “It’s your job on the line, and my scholarship, I might even get expelled. It’s so… We just can’t.” 

“But isn’t that a bit exciting?” Tom asked. “The rush of it!”

“You’re insane,” you huffed, grabbing at Tom’s hand, but he stopped you. 

“Am I?” he asked. “Or am I actually smart?”

You chewed your lip as you considered it. The fact that you were even considering it at all was enough to make your breath falter in your chest, but you had to admit that Tom was making a good argument. Anyway, you only had his class for one term. 16 weeks. That wasn’t that long, in the grand scheme of things. You could do it, if you were careful. “Let me sleep on it,” you said softly. “I wanna do it, but… I don’t know. There’s so much at stake.” Tom nodded in understanding, and you whispered, “And you might think differently when you’re sober.” 

“I won’t,” Tom said. “I’ll still think you’re the best girl there is.” 

“You hardly know me,” you said softly, looking up at him. You wound the gauze around his hand, trying to cover the cuts, but his other hand cupping your cheek stopped you. 

“That might be true,” Tom said. “But you’re special. I know it.” 

“You are too, Tommy.” 

The smell of coffee filled your head, and you squeaked as you stretched. It smelled different than usual, lighter than Zendaya’s usual dark roast, and your heart nearly stopped. It wasn’t coffee. It was tea. 

You shot up in bed, gathering the blankets in your fists. Tom’s bedroom. Tom’s bed. Tom was making tea. You studied yourself, trying to assess the damages, and you found bruises littering your hips and thighs. If you could see your neck, you would bet that he had left hickeys there too. 

You cursed yourself every which way to Sunday as you got out of bed. You knew what was bound to happen if you saw Tom again, and there you were, right back where the problem had started. Your arms felt weak as you shoved your shirt from the night before back on, and you whirled around. Bra. You had left your bra. 

“Woah,” a low chuckle came from the doorway. Tom stood there, grey sweatpants and damp hair, absently stirring a spoon in a mug. “Late to class?” 

“No,” you said quickly. “I need to--” 

“Need to go,” Tom sighed. You saw a perfect mouth-shaped bruise just under his nipple, and the sight of it stopped you. You remembered every beat from the night before, every kiss, touch, breath, and moan, and the memory of his hands was enough to stop you dead. “Right.”

“No, actually,” you said, taking a breath. Your intentions had flipped as soon as you remembered, and you scrambled for an excuse. “Need to go to the bathroom. I don’t remember if I went after we finished last night.” 

“Ah,” Tom hummed slowly. “What’s it called? UTI?”

“Yes, and they can be painful,” you said quickly. 

Tom smiled, a sleepy, fuzzy thing, and he pulled you into him with one arm. His lips were warm against your forehead, and he whispered, “Good morning, sweetness. Glad you slept well.”

“Well, you nearly exhausted me last night,” you chuckled. Your arms circled his waist and you pressed your nose into his hard chest. “Would’ve been impossible for me not to.” 

Tom landed a kiss in your hair, and he said, “I didn’t wake you up, did I? Seems to be my superpower.” 

“No,” you said. “The tea did. I’m used to coffee.” 

“Oh, my darling, you need to get familiar with tea,” Tom said. “I’m from Southwest London, we do tea.” With that, he offered you his mug, and you peered in for a moment, assessing the light tan drink, before you carefully took it and took a sip. It was warm and tasted good, lighter than coffee, and you nodded carefully. 

“I think I like coffee better,” you whispered, and Tom gasped. 

“You just insulted the whole of England,” he said. “How dare you.” 

“To be fair, England deserves to be insulted,” you said quickly. “Most independence days that are celebrated are celebrating independence from your whack-ass country.”

“That’s…!” Tom began, then sighed. “Yeah, no, that’s fair. Well, do you want me to pop out and get you a coffee?” 

You giggled. “No, I’m alright,” you said. “I’ll make it work with your pathetic leaf water.” 

“Better than bean water,” Tom said, sipping his tea. 

You laughed at him. “Did you really just shade me and sip tea at the same time?”

“What does any of that mean?” Tom asked. “Is that a meme?”

“Jesus, you’re not that much older than me!” you laughed. “I’ll have to teach you memes.”

“And I’ll have to teach you not to sass me,” Tom said. “You can get awful lippy, my darling.” 

“I sure can,” you said and bit your lip as you played with the band of his sweatpants. “Want me to show you?” 

“You little minx,” Tom smirked. “I’d never say no to you.” 

[starcloud-nova]

Favorite fics by some of your buddies on Tumblr and Discord?

God nonnie. You fucked up big time. You underestimated just how hard I can appreciate my friends. I’d like to formally apologize for how long and in-depth this got, but I would pick a stopping point and then go ‘oh! but i cant leave out so-and-so’ and then this got mega out of hand.

Organized by author and not genre! And if I didn’t include any of your works (or I did and it was not the one you wanted), please, don’t take it personally. I am trusting everyone who comes across this post to read the tags themselves, but for two of the fics I have left TWs in front of them.

Cassia’s fics:

Internet Enemies by @cassiopeia721 (x)

At school, Midoriya Izuku is ignored at best. At home, he's raised by a single mother who seems to be always taking night shifts, and who he communicates with almost exclusively through notes on lunch boxes and texts lying about his location. As such, Midoriya Izuku turns to the internet— or more specifically, an All Might fan server on discord— for companionship. Like most things in his life, it goes wrong eventually. It just takes longer than usual.

hypnic jump

Izuku finds himself somewhere he doesn't recognize in an oversized green jumpsuit with a hero he's never seen at his back. He's pretty sure he's dreaming, and subsequent events only solidify that theory into rock-solid certainty.

Paradigm Shift (Harry Potter)

Harry undergoes a paradigm shift at the beginning of his fifth year. (Slytherin Harry)

~~~

Kestrel’s fics:

Compass by @autisticmidoriyas (x)

Midoriya Izuku never had the chance to become a hero—or even to grow up. Fifteen years after his death, Akatani Izuku tries to save the life of a dying hero and in return receives a target painted on his back and a power humming in his bones.

All Might, Sir Nighteye, Ground Zero, Suneater, and Skyquake are left scrambling in the wake of Lemillion’s death to figure out who now holds One For All.

Intertwined with all this, the League of Villains’ war against Japan burns on. With the loss of Lemillion, the advantage is now theirs, and with the loss of One For All, victory is all-but-assured.

(What the villains don’t know is that One For All lives on in the blood of a boy who was always meant to be a hero.)

triskelion

A few seconds, and their lives—their life—is changed forever. Where three people used to exist, there is now only one.

While visiting the mall with their class, Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto are the victims of someone whose quirk can fuse together objects … and people.

Permanently.

Facing down the fact that they may never be unfused, a long adjustment period lies ahead of them as they learn how to be themself and figure out where they fit into their families, their class, and their world.

the meaning of hope

One day, the smoke will reach its end. They hold out hope for that. Even with quirks, fires cannot burn forever. They will consume all their fuel, until there is nothing left, and they will wither and die.

~~~

Lilly’s fics:

Rise of the Rat Finks by Authoress_Lilly

“You're not in trouble Neito. You’ve been tapped to join The Rats.”

The boy blinks. “The what?”

Vlad opens up a folder and hands Monoma a flyer and a small pin in the shape of a rat. “It’s a sort of secret society here at UA.

Or: an excuse to put Monoma and Midoriya together in way too many words 😅

The Root to Villainy

Prompt: Izuku doesn't realize how fucked up his past was until Aizawa does an immersive class on villain origins.

Whoops?

~~~

Dance’s fics:

Never Take Your Problem Children To Costco by DanceInTheKitchen

“SECURE THE EGGS! I REPEAT SECURE THE EGGS!” Bakugou bellowed.

“YES SIR! AYE AYE SIR!” Izuku saluted.

Shouta is staring at his students, one of whom seems to be reenacting the Lion King with a carton of eggs while the other salutes him, and wonders. What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve this?? Past him must have committed some great sin, like putting sugar in his coffee, or being a dog person.

 Or, Aizawa, Bakugou and Midoriya walk into a Costco.

grow as we go

The dorms were silent, but out here in the open air, she felt both isolated and free. Isolated from the world, but free from the responsibility crushing her, isolated from her friends and family, but free from judgement. Up here, with only the stars and Iida as company, Momo felt like she could breathe.

They sat next to each other in silence, watching the stars silently crawl their way across the sky. Iida doesn’t break the silence, but he also doesn’t leave. It’s a silent promise, to listen if she needs it, or to keep her company if she doesn’t want to speak. It’s comforting.

She’s not sure when she speaks, it’s somewhere between staring up at the stars, and looking at the shiny dew covering the grass of the hills behind UA.

“I’m not ready.”

 Or, with graduation right around the corner, Momo has a conversation with Iida about what growing up means.

~~~

Azure’s fics:

A Helping Hand for All by azureskyy

Izuku doesn't know why everyone's talking about a certain hero analyst online. He's tried browsing through the forums and other sites, but he just can't find the person they're talking about.

Maybe he'll ask them later. For now, he has some analysis to do.

Or: Izuku is a well-known hero and quirk analyst across multiple social media platforms.

Not that he's aware of it, of course.

A Missed Chance

Two paths cross then diverge. In another universe, perhaps, they could have walked on the same path; they could have talked for the second time that day, and Izuku could have been given an opportunity that could change his entire life. And maybe, just maybe, he would have taken it.

But this isn’t that universe.

Or: What if All Might wasn't able to find Izuku after the Sludge Villain Incident?

~~~

Alice’s fics:

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by @makeitbluue (x)

“Did you think you’d be safe from me forever? That you could chip away at my power base and I would not care or try to hunt you down?” The man asks as he steps forwards.

Izuku scrambles backwards in his bed, searching the covers as he goes for his phone. If he can get a text off to All Might or Aizawa-sensei he can alert people to the potential danger.

But even as he moves, something in the back of his mind tells him he had heard this voice before. A different time, a different context, but the same voice.

~~~

Ely’s fics:

bend and break by @queenangst (x)

In a world where you can feel your soulmate's pain, Eijirou spends a lot of his life up until meeting his soulmate hurting.

draw and quarter

In District Twelve, no one volunteers.

When Aizawa Shouta’s name is called, no one says a word. He stands there for a moment, feeling all the world slow around him, and then he straightens his shoulders and walks to his death.

He will die fighting. At the very least, Shouta can promise that.

Shouta's name is drawn for the Hunger Games, alongside Shirakumo Oboro. No one from their district has ever won.

damage control

After All for One's defeat, Aizawa Shouta is grasping for ways to protect his students. At the same time, a discrepancy in Midoriya's behavior leads Shouta down a dangerous line of investigation and to a single question: if Midoriya is the U.A. traitor.

Between the Wind and the Water

Staying at U.A. for winter break, Izuku hopes it'll be a quiet chance to spend the holidays with Todoroki and supervising teachers All Might and Aizawa-sensei.

It's just his luck a gift-shopping trip turns into a gift from a villain, and Izuku's new Half-Cold, Half-Hot Quirk is not so easy to control. Neither are the secrets he's been carefully keeping.

a glimpse of tomorrow (looking back)

Subject: Aldera Time Capsule Ceremony Forwarded Message— This year marks ten years for the Aldera Middle School graduating class of 20XX.To celebrate, we would like to invite pro heroes Kingpin and Deku, Aldera alumni, to participate in a public time-capsule opening. We are incredibly proud to have helped them on their journeys to becoming heroes, and would be most honored to receive them as guests and for them to speak at the ceremony. [...]

"Well," Deku says, leaning over to turn the monitor towards him. His eyes flick over the contents of the email one more time. "If they haven't changed, then I guess we could return the favor."

Ten years down the line, Bakugou and Midoriya are invited to a time capsule ceremony at their middle school to read letters from their past selves, and look back on their past and how it shaped their future. For anyone else, it would have been a celebration.

For the two of them, it's an opportunity.

A look into Bakugou and Midoriya's past—through a future neither of them imagined—as pro heroes, agency partners, and friends.

of the mighty heart

It was just complicated. Kacchan had changed. Izuku had changed. What was between them was constant—Kacchan was always there—but even constants, Izuku supposed, could change, too.

...You saved me, sometimes you say Deku and it doesn’t sound so much like an insult, you say it like you mean it, you say it like you mean me.

After the war ends and the dust settles, Izuku is left in pain and feeling useless. There's still so much to do and people to save, and it's just... too much for one person.

And then there's Kacchan.

~~~

Fawn’s fics:

Bough Breaks by @fawnvelveteen (x) (trigger warning for discussion of rape/noncon)

In life, nothing is certain. Pro-heroes aren’t always the good guys. Children are not spared from the darkest realms of humanity. Izuku isn't acting like his normal self at school lately, and his homeroom teacher has taken notice. After learning about the mother’s new, unwelcomed boyfriend, Aizawa’s concern shifts into dread. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his student away from harm.

Almost Moon (trigger warning for suicide) (Black Clover)

It was always at night. One of Noelle's squadmates, apparently, believes it's a good idea to walk across the rooftop, directly over her head while she is trying to get some sleep. Finally, she decides to confront the nighttime nuisance. What she discovers is something she never expected, nor did she wish to see.

~~~

Nez’s fics:

The True Successor by @neko-nez (x)

Toshinori is caught in a time loop.

~~~

Aodh’s fics:

new game + (the pros of being over-leveled, the catharsis of finally beating That One Boss, and a bonus social link) by @takeyamayuu (x)

Izuku hasn’t been noticed yet, being as far from the fight as he is. Or if he has, they’re dismissing him in favor of the larger threat of Aizawa-sensei. As they should, since he takes out the last one with a well placed kick, turning to face Shigaraki,

Izuku tenses, this is-

This is where his teacher’s arm is injured and then-

The Nomu.

One for All spikes to around fifty percent, his muscles stinging, bones creaking as Izuku darts forward, aiming for Shigaraki’s head with an axe-kick.

Second year Midoriya Izuku gets hit with a Quirk, skids into the USJ, and learns a little about self-care along the way.

~~~

Ghost’s fics:

fingerpaint bruises and a kick in the teeth by @ghoststrawberries (x)

There’s a sour taste in Shouta’s mouth as he stares at Jackrabbit’s bright smile. The smile he’s wearing in every clear photo of him. It somewhat reminds Shouta of All Might’s smile.

Jackrabbit might be a menace to the Commission, but there’s no way Shouta can believe that a man with that smile is anything less than good to his core.

“And I’m your last resort to handle this quietly.” He says knowingly, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Precisely.”

Shouta’s gut response is to refuse.

The words “I don’t kill.” are halfway up his throat before they become stuck.

As an underground hero, sometimes Shouta Aizawa is called upon to do darker jobs than one might expect a hero to have to do. This time, when he's tasked with taking out a vigilante who's managed to bother the Hero Public Safety Commission one too many times, he's not sure he'll be able to follow through.

~~~

Amira’s fics:

And Now I See Daylight by @awake-my-oceans (x)

AnalysisOverload Current mood: HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON

AnalysisOverload reblogged AnalysisOverload  Okay, let’s talk HeroCon. 

Look around, and you’ll see a lot of discrimination—against people whose Quirk is debilitating, against people whose Quirks scare us, against people who have trouble controlling their Quirk, against people who don’t have a Quirk at all. It’s easy to feel alone in a sea of discrimination.

Enter HeroCon:X.

A social media fic following Deku post-graduation.

The chaotic neutral’s guide to time travel

“You claim you are from the future,” Nedzu said, hopping onto his desk. “Do you have anything to prove this?”

Hitoshi fished around in his pocket. “Here’s my hero license,” he said, holding it up.

Nedzu opened his mouth, but Hitoshi kept right on going, producing a handful of odds and ends from his pocket. “Also a movie ticket, some dryer lint, some, uh, didn’t know I still had that but it’s old gum—“

That was when Aizawa walked in, capture weapon floating around him. “What’s the emergency?” he asked, clipped, as he kicked open the door.

“—and the left arm of a Deku plushie,” Hitoshi finished, unruffled. “My cat ate the rest.”

~~~

Aaaaaand that’s all I got. Thanks for making it to the end!