#interactive piano classes

[weirdnerdygoat]

Oh look, a younger ford blushing picture...

I... may or may not be making something...

[2amriize]

˚⟡˖ when you are both idols — RIIZE | maknae line.

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist

genre fluff

pairing idol!riize x idol!reader

click here to see hyung line ver.!

ᯓ★ SEUNGHAN

People literally love your dynamic. You seem like siblings.

You already knew each other before debuting; in fact, you were friends since middle school.

You always practiced together and would hang out for meals after class.

Random fact, but your mom loves him.

You could say that thanks to you two, your fandoms are also like siblings.

Since everyone loved your interactions so much, you were invited several times to be hosts together and also to entertainment shows.

You two have so many famous funny moments together...

Some people have even shipped you two, but you don’t have those feelings at all. You see him as a brother.

A brother who never stops bothering you.

Even though 90% of the time you’re filming content together you’re teasing each other, you also care a lot about each other.

During a stage for your new comeback, your legs gave out, causing you to fall to the ground.

When he found out, he was the first to show up at your apartment with food to cheer you up.

"How can you not rest enough? You shouldn’t overwork yourself."

ᯓ★ SOHEE

You first spoke to Sohee during one of his interviews on MCountdown.

You thought he was so cute!

You couldn’t stop laughing at everything he said and smiling whenever you looked at him.

But it was clear that he was very shy, at least with people he didn’t know.

After the interview, whenever you ran into each other at music shows or award ceremonies, you’d greet each other politely.

It wasn’t until both of your groups were invited to a variety show that you got to talk more with him.

They put you in the same team for some challenges, and there you got to exchange a few words, realizing how funny and playful he was.

By the end of the recording, you were already pretty close and felt comfortable with each other since you shared the same sense of humor.

So, you exchanged phone numbers to talk more and hang out sometime.

The truth is, you had a lot in common and got along really well.

ᯓ★ ANTON

You had seen TikToks of Anton a few times as they appeared on your fyp, so you knew who he was.

In one of your group’s concerts, you had to do individual covers, so you decided to cover Get a Guitar by RIIZE.

You were surprised when they thanked you for covering one of their songs.

But you were even more surprised when Anton recommended one of your songs on Weverse.

He seemed really nice.

But your impression of him changed when you crossed paths with RIIZE at a music show.

You approached him to thank him for recommending your song and to chat a bit with him.

But you didn’t expect him to be so SHY.

He hardly said anything, and the situation became a bit awkward, but at the same time, you found it quite endearing.

Even though he didn’t say more than two words during your whole conversation, he didn’t hesitate to ask for your phone number.

You were also surprised when he asked you to collaborate.

He knew you played the piano, so he asked if you wanted to record a cover with him.

You didn’t hesitate to say yes.

Thanks to the rehearsals, you became closer.

And people loved your cover; they even asked for more!

click here to see hyung line ver.!

[orbitariums]

( in the accent of a suburban blk girlie ) dhmu just thinking ab being art and patrick's joint pretty little thing and they're both like hah ! art/patrick could never score a girl like this, she's different from every woman ive ever met ( black as hell, boujie as hell, BUILT as hell ), he doesn't have it like me. and then all of a sudden they both find themselves at a mostly black club she frequents and posts ab on myspace a lot and they both find themselves giving her flirty, llustful looks across the dance floor at her, go to give eachother a 'hah you could never pull all that' look and realize they're both doing the same thing and then realizing that you could pull any little frat-esque, trust funded white boy you wanted and they LOCK TF IN on proving they could treat and fuck you best

- 🎹

all that | artrick + black reader

literally obsessed with this request piano anon ... thissss is universe-building and i LOVEEEE to cross cultures >:-) also, made this playlist to fit the vibe (tried to keep it 2006 themed but haddd to throw some cash cobain in there — his new album is also perfect to listen to for this)

contains: a FINE black GYAL, art + patrick feening they ain't never BEEN with a baddie, smut: fingering, oral (f! receiving), threesome i realize i could've made this a drabble but i'm a writer. so imma write. so i hope y'all fw this! word count: 7.7k and not proofread

It's giving Stanford era Art and Patrick — Art feels like he has dibs on you because he met you first and takes a few classes with you. Unlike Patrick, Art prides himself on being your friend — even though you've really only interacted through class projects, and Art hardly has the courage to talk to you outside of class.

You're different from anybody Art or Patrick have wanted in the past. Stanford opened up a door to a whole new world for them — a world outside of rich white girls who spent their summers in the Hamptons or elite tennis camps. and you were the key holder. you were hands-down the most stunning girl they'd ever seen. For Art, it was the Marley twists that reached your butt (a staple hairstyle of yours when you weren't rotating from lace fronts to sew-ins to natural), the way your brown eyes glimmered when a ray of sun shone over you through the window.

For Patrick it was your lips, thick and glossy or perfectly painted with a brown lip combo — gawking at you in the cafeteria when he visits and watching you reapply your lip gloss after you eat might be his favorite pastime.

Once, Patrick literally groaned, throwing his head back with a hand on his forehead when you bent over to pick up your lip liner, then readjusted your jeans and did that little jump trying to fit your ass properly back in the pants. Art couldn't even call him out on it because it took everything in him to hold back a whimper.

Your skin was supple and a rich brown, soft like a pillow they wanted to sink into. everything about you was something to admire — your laugh, the certainty in your voice whenever you spoke, your graceful yet assertive demeanor. You knew who you were, and that was something lacking from all the Sarahs and Kaylors and Brittanys they had been with. And, satisfying their basest desires, was your stallion body. tall, thick, and fit.

"She's so pretty," Art blinked slowly, the two of them watching you from a distance in the library as you gathered with a group of friends, standing around a table and giggling softly.

"Her ass is so fat. I've never seen anything like that shit before," Patrick murmured, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were concerned— really he was just incredulous.

A beat as Art swallowed hard, clenching his jaw. Ignoring the way his pants grew tighter. Patrick doing the same.

"Yeah," he exhaled after a moment of silence and low-eyed ogling from the two of them.

It was weeks of that — just gawking at you and getting themselves worked up thinking about you. At that point, there was more sexual tension between Art and Patrick than either of the two lusting boys had managed to work up with you. Tashi found their fantasizing aggravating and berated them for not just going up to you and talking to you — secretly, Art and Patrick praised the fact that Tashi has a girlfriend, otherwise she'd be competition too.

Art practically fainted when he saw you in the hallway talking to Patrick— Patrick leaning against the wall with his hand just above his head, towering over you with the confidence of a sly dog. He could just make out the murmurs of your conversation, the warm ringing of your laugh, Patrick's flirtatious chuckling overlapping just a few seconds later. He was laying it on thick, and Art felt like he might go into cardiac arrest with how angry he was.

Art strode up to the two of you with determination, slowing down once he gets closer so he doesn't come off as defensive as he felt. He gave Patrick an icy, tight-lipped grin that made Patrick smirk ever-so-slightly, his eyes wandering to some spot just above Art's head.

"Pat," Art bleated. He turned to you, his eyes softening along with his brain and everything else in his body except his dick. He smiled gently, locking eyes with you. "YN. It's nice to see you. I'm Art, by the way."

You shook your head and chuckled, one of your braids drifting over your shoulder. You pushed it back, and Art and Patrick went numb at the simple maneuver. You bit down softly on your bottom lip, grinning bemusedly,

"I know who you are. We did like two chem projects together, don't you remember?"

"Yeah, remember?" Patrick echoed, glancing over smugly at Art, who was too enamored by you to side-eye Patrick in return.

"Yeah. Yeah of course I remember. You were the backbone of our projects," Art trailed off into a genuine laugh, one full of appreciation.

"Well, I am pre-med, so," a slight laugh bubbled up in your throat and it was so attractive and confident, Art couldn't help but grin at you dazedly.

"Smart girl," Patrick inserted himself, catching your eye as soon as you turned your head to him again.

You didn't miss the way he held eye contact, the way he was so comfortable giving you a name to hold on to, like it was something he was used to doing with you. There's some sort of intimacy to a nickname like that, suggesting something provocative yet impossible to name. You're well aware of the fact that they're both attracted to you — you couldn't possibly miss them staring at you even when you knew they thought they were being discreet.

Seeing them now, up close and personal, finally actually talking to you instead of checking you out and avoiding eye contact, you saw their strategies, their archetypes. Art, the charming and unassuming rabbit — assumed timid by most but smart and eventually crafty — and Patrick, the rakish, bold fox, unabashed in his cunning and willing to show out. Both types that you'd seen before, but not quite in this form. And both intrigued you deeply. You, the snake. Letting them have their glory in this game now, but plotting just how you would leer over them soon enough, evaluating your prey.

"Gotta be. I only get one chance," you replied to Patrick's comment.

You could tell he was used to having girls stuck, and you weren't that type. But with you, their eagerness and need to prove themselves was strong right away.

You could tell they were trying to figure out what to say. You figured they were used to girls giggling and blushing over them. Maybe they expected a thank you, complete with hair twirling and bashfulness, like you didn't already know you were smart, fine, and everything in between.

"Mkay," you hummed, smiling precociously up at them. "I'm gonna hit the library, got a bio exam next week. I'll see you both later?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you'll see us," Art assured you immediately, on top of Patrick drawling,

"We'll be on the lookout."

You chuckled, giving them one last look over your lashes before you turned around. You could feel their eyes on you as they left, tracking all the way down to your hips which swayed as you walked.

They watched you like that all the way out the double doors, in a trance. When the door finally closed, Art swiveled on his feet and jabbed Patrick in the shoulder, walking off dramatically. Patrick caught up to him quickly.

"What the fuck? What's that for?" he whined.

"What the hell man, you can't just talk to her," Art frowned.

Patrick paused, staring at Art like he was a middle schooler,

"I just did. Besides, it's not like you were talking to her anyway, I did us both a favor."

Art knew he was being petulant but he couldn't himself — he didn't mind admiring you with Patrick, but sharing you was a whole 'nother thing. He wasn't ready to admit that the thought turned him on, and the attraction was still fresh enough that he was possessive. Maybe the doors would open once he knew he could get you.

"Yeah, well I was gonna."

"Ha!" Patrick barked out a cold laugh. "Like that'd get you anywhere."

"Fuck does that mean?" Art scoffed, glaring at his best friend and lamenting the luscious mop of overgrown dark curls brushing against his forehead.

Patrick tapped the underbrim of Art's red hat, which Art quickly readjusted,

"Look at you. You're dressed like a skinny white cuck. You don't even know what to do with all that." Patrick was growing more and more defensive and loud by the minute. He shook his head and glared off into the distance like he was thinking of just how he'd handle "all that," then continued. "She wants a big dog."

Art actually laughed — he genuinely doubled over laughing, and Patrick marched along while Art was cackling a few feet behind. He caught up to Patrick, red in the face,

"And you're a big dog? You're a rich white Jew from Rochester, New York."

Patrick smirked, like he knew something Art didn't — but when does he not know everything before Art has even gotten a hint? Or at least, he pretends to know everything. Art wasn't sure if it was too late to come out from under Patrick's wing, it's all he knew.

"Exactly," Patrick responded quietly.

Art, miffed but trying not to show it, switched the trajectory of the conversation and shook his head. He offered the first reality check ever since this little crush had formed,

"Don't sound too sure of yourself. I don't think either of us are her type."

"C'mon Art, don't be racist. You think she only likes black guys?"

Art was ruffled— he retorted,

"I didn't say that!"

"Whatever, I got her Myspace. I'll give it to you so you can stalk her but don't actually follow her like a creep. You're welcome, dumbass. You can thank me for bringing you a step forward from jerking your tiny little dick while you think of her alone in your dorm room."

How the fuck did he get her Myspace?

| | |

Patrick was back again by next week, fooling around on the computer while Art laid back on his bed and bounced a tennis ball against the ceiling.

"Oh shit," Patrick muttered to himself, a toothpick wiggling in the corner of his mouth. Art perked up, sitting up on his elbows.

"What?"

"Come look," Patrick waved Art over.

On the computer screen was your Myspace, which you just updated few minutes ago.

[ YN ] Can't wait to hit up Nebula later tonight!

"What's Nebula?" Art asked, his voice quiet and curious as he squinted at the glowing screen.

Patrick wordlessly pulled up another tab and typed up Nebula. It was a club a few miles north of campus. It had no description but a bunch of pictures. It was different from what they were used to — frat parties consisting of fist bumping and neon necklaces, a sea of white crashed against the floor and someone shotgunning a can of Budweiser. Instead, they're looking at photos of a nightclub with flashy lights and graffiti decor, and not a single hint of white — at least, not in any of the pictures. But it looks busy, and as far as they can tell, it actually looks fun.

Patrick and Art scanned the page of images meticulously, it was like their brains were reconfiguring. After some time, they both speak at once:

"Should we go?"

"We're fucking going."

The boys spent the next few hours getting ready. Or at least, Art did. Patrick didn't have a change of clothes, so he was going as he was — untucked Ralph polo, khaki shorts and all. Art on the other hand, showered and rotated through multiple outfits. By his third shirt, Patrick was fatigued,

"What are you doing?"

Art held up a white t-shirt to the mirror and angled it against his body,

"I don't wanna show up looking like an asshole. Look at you, what are you wearing?"

"There's nothing wrong with it," Patrick griped, though he did a double take at himself behind Art in the mirror.

"Did you not see how everyone was dressed in the pictures? We're gonna look like idiots if we show up like a bunch of tennis douchebags," Art retorted, finally deciding on a white shirt and ripped blue jeans.

"We are tennis douchebags," Patrick said to himself. "Got a pair of black jeans I can wear?"

Art smirked wordlessly, throwing a pair over to Patrick.

The club is packed, to say the least. But it's huge. The bouncer took a long, hard look at the two boys before graciously deciding to let them in. They did look painfully out of place — the club seemed not to have a white person in sight for miles. They were tokens here, not oblivious to the curious looks and outright glares. Chingy's Right Thurr was blasting from the club speakers, booming over the sound of Air Force 1s and chunky heels scuffling across the floor. Art and Patrick stood in the front, taking in the view of the dance floor like a pair of birds overlooking the sea from the shore.

"What if she's not even here?" Art muttered.

"She's here dude, trust me. No way she's staying in on a Friday night after exams and this is clearly the place to go," Patrick shouted over the music. The two silently scanned over the crowd, desperate to pick her out in a sea of people. Then, Patrick laid eyes on her. He jabbed Art's side, who immediately snapped his vision to focus on you, so far away on the dance floor, unaware of their presence.

You were in a tight-fitting short pink dress that hugged every inch of your body — it seemed like it was made for you. Your tits sat pretty and your ass jiggled with even the slightest move. Your brown skin glinted under the flashing lights, and reflections shimmered off of your golden bracelets. You were with a group of friends, laughing and rolling your body to the beat, hips swaying with the motion of water. Patrick and Art were absolutely stuck, staring at you with dry mouths.

"Fuck," Art mouthed, and Patrick found his lips pulled beneath his teeth.

You didn't have a care in the world. You weren't drunk, but you had a few drinks in you and the bass was thudding against your eardrums just right. And you knew you looked good. Everything felt right — but the last thing you expected to see when you turned your head was two white boys, especially not two white boys who you knew. They seemed to realize that they were caught once you made eye contact with them, squinting at first in confusion.

Then, you saw it, the lustful look in both of their eyes. Patrick was unabashedly checking you out — you were sure he was doing it before, but now it was like he wanted you to know. And Art had this look in his eyes, so deep and watchful that you could tell he was simply drinking you in. Arms tucked over his chest, his tongue swiping slowly over his lip.

You giggled, returning their gazes with a subtly flirtatious cock of your head, and a bemused grin. Patrick smiled and nodded, and Art cocked his head in unison with you. Like he was playing. And you liked this game. You turned to your friends for just a moment and quickly excused yourself, then turned back to face the two boys, glancing towards the bar.

You didn't wait for them, just started slowly sauntering over, knowing they would follow you.

Once you broke their gaze, they turned to each other, smirking. On the one hand, they knew they had an in. But they were challenging each other too, with a competitive spark in their eyes that said, "you wish."

They rushed over to the bar, practically skidding across the bar and even bumping into each other. They got there just seconds before you did, still catching their breaths by the time you got close enough. Before you could even open your mouth, both of them were panting. In unison, they spouted,

"Hey—"

"Hi."

"Can I buy you a drink?"

They glared at each other, and you laughed, shaking your head. They were practically brothers, the way they were so in sync with each other and seemed to bounce off of one another. It was fun analyzing their characters, and even more fun because they were trust fund babies without a care in the world, and you couldn't be any more different. But one thing was for certain — you could get anything from them.

"That's y'all's favorite question, isn't it?" you grinned up at them slowly, batting your lashes.

They both laughed weakly, not used to being called out so bluntly. They were so set on having you, but now that you were in front of them, it was clear you made the rules. The way you assessed them both silently, letting your eyes observe the both of them from head to toe, slowly but surely, they had no choice but to stand at your feet.

"How about this," you started, and they perked up like dogs, hanging on to your every word. "Whoever guesses my drink of choice can buy me a drink."

"Sex on the beach," Patrick blurted, mainly because he was thinking about sex.

"Vodka cran?" Art offered hesitantly.

You squint at them, shaking your head.

"Cognac, neat."

Patrick snorted, and you looked over at him with a curious grin. He explained himself,

"Sorry, it's just... that's dark liquor."

"Duh. I don't waste my money on watered down cocktails." A pause. "So...?"

They fought to get drinks, but ultimately, Art was the one who flagged the bartender down first. You told them that you should talk somewhere a bit more quiet, and led them to a couch beneath the stairs, where the music was slightly muffled. You knew that their eyes were on you as you were walking, you could tell by the way they went silent while behind you.

You sat between them on the couch, one leg over the other. Both their mouths went dry over the sight of your thigh pooling and expanding as you placed it on top of your other one. Your brown skin contrasted deliciously with the pink fabric of your dress.

You sipped your drink and leaned back just a bit against the couch. Basking in their intent eye contact.

"So," you smirked.

"So..." Patrick grinned at you, unafraid to show all his teeth.

You glance between the two of them,

"It's your first time here, isn't it?"

"Whaaat?" Patrick feigned offense, shaking his head and waving his hand. He sips his drink, leaning back just a bit to align his body more with yours. "Psshh, no, we come here all the time."

"Really?" you challenged him, and he just nodded silently with that fucking smirk on his face, his eyes boring into yours with an impish sparkle. "'Cuz I come here all the time, and I haven't seen you two before. Like, ever."

"Guess you weren't looking for us hard enough," in comes Art, quiet as ever but still so strikingly present — it's impossible to forget him, the way he sneaks up on you every time with some suggestive comment or smart remark.

You turned your head towards him now, your smile growing bigger by the minute, thoroughly enthralled by this delicious dialogue.

"Oh, I should be looking for you two?'' you raised your chin up, humored.

"Nah, but I mean... you might find something you like," Patrick replied, coolly as ever, never looking away from you even when you weren't looking at him. It was how you found yourself face to face with him when you turned your head away from Art.

"Yeah? And what's that?" you mastered your most innocent voice possible, rubbing your glossy lips together. Patrick's eyes lowered down to your lips, and he let them stay there for a while before he spoke again,

"You gonna let us find out what you like?"

No smirk this time, accompanied by unshaken eye contact. It got your heart jumping, but you played it cool, chuckling and sipping your drink,

"Y'all play too much."

"Who says we're playing?" Art interjected then, and you're met with a charming, slow-appearing smile.

“Messy. You usually have the same taste in girls?"

"I mean, yeah, we do," the boys glanced at each other and nodded good-naturedly as if assessing the question together before providing you with an answer. "But you're just... better," Art replied, and Patrick nodded.

"Better? Better how?"

"I mean... you're incredibly sexy," Patrick said as if it were self-explanatory.

"Yeah? Tell me more," you bared your teeth in a slick-mouthed smile, leaning your chin on your hand and blinking softly up at Patrick. You turned your head slowly when Art spoke.

"Your lips. They look soft," he licked his lips when you looked at him. It was like he was a completely different entity now, shrouded by the thick cloud of desire he had for you. His voice had dropped an octave lower and his lids seemed heavier. He took a sip of Cognac and leaned back just a tad.

"Got a pretty voice," you turned this time to Patrick, whose lips were turning up in a slow smile, his teeth glinting in the dark club.

"Beautiful eyes," now Art — you knew you had them right around your finger but they were proving to be more than you'd bargained for — you wondered how often they moved like this to a girl, together.

"Your body's absolutely insane," Patrick divulged.

"Personality takes the cake, too," Art chimes in.

By the time they'd finished, it felt like they were inches closer to you, encasing you in their body heat. And they had inched closer to you, the both of them cocking their head in your direction, studying your face. It all felt so practiced, yet natural. They knew just what they were doing, and that's why you didn't move a muscle. But you'd be lying if you said it didn't have an effect on you.

You didn't reply, you just sat back and slowly swallowed down the rest of your drink. All eyes were on you, the boys both leaning back against the couch and just admiring you. You set the glass down on the table in front of you and got up to stand, wiggling your dress down to readjust it.

"Let's dance."

That's how you found yourself sandwiched between Art and Patrick while a song by Miguel played. Your breaths, hot and smelling of liquor, floated against each other, bodies pressed into yours. Patrick was behind you with his hands on your waist, towering over you and looking down at you in awe. He kept it respectful, but you could feel him against your ass, poking through his ripped black jeans. Art was in front of you, your arms around his neck, just inches of space between all of you. The club was dark bar for a strobe light rotating across your faces periodically, so you could hardly see the desire in their eyes, but you could feel it. You swayed your hips to the rhythm of the song and let your head fall back against Patrick's shoulder, swaying your whole body now. Art was pressed into you, his face dipping into your neck. He nearly whimpered— you smelled like caramelized vanilla and a hint of coconut oil. He imagined you lathering your damp body in creams and oils after getting out of the shower, and had to fight an erection from forming directly against you. Meanwhile, Patrick was already half-hard.

All they felt was bliss — Patrick had more of a sense of certainty that the night would end up somewhat like this, but Art doubted they'd even be able to find you. You could sense the way they held back, waiting for you to shut it down or take it an inch further. You paused when you felt your cellphone vibrate in your purse. You pulled away gracefully from Art and Patrick, who stood there dumbly waiting for you to pull them back in. You grinned when you read the text from your friends, who knew of your whereabouts, telling you to pull up to Alicia's apartment for afters, and "bring your little white boys."

You let the boys usher you out of the club, Art with his hand on your waist trailing behind you, and Patrick taking your hand as he pushed through the crowd and out the door.

"You smell amazing," Art mentioned the minute the fresh air hit you, re-surging the scent that drove him near ballistic in the club.

You giggled at Art's sudden outburst, and the genuine admiration in his tone,

"Thank you, babe. Now, are y'all good to drive?"

| | |

Alicia's apartment was huge — her dad paid for everything, to say the least. The moment you walked in, Alicia, Nessa and Tiana crowded around you, squealing and ooh-ing and aah-ing over Patrick and Art.

"This your lil shit right here? Go head, then YN," Tiana stuck her tongue out raucously and you shook your head, laughing.

Before you knew it, you were pouring shots of Hennessy down each other's throats, playing a vicious game of Uno, and blasting Me & U by Cassie. Art and Patrick had some settling in to do at first, since they weren't used to being around mostly black girls — the most fun they knew how to have at parties was fist-bumping to dubstep. But they fit right in, and your friends had no trouble making them feel welcome. As the night went on, you lost some of that mysterious enigma, but it didn't make them want you any less.

Art nearly melted beneath you when you stood up above him and poured Ciroc down his throat, holding his chin up with your fresh French tips. Patrick was next, putting on a brave face, unwavering against the screeches and pointing from your friends. He made sure to keep eye contact with you, swallowing boisterously with an "ahh!" sound, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You grinned and took a swig yourself, then ran to your friends to dance with them, swaying your hips and shaking your ass in a way they hadn't seen just yet. It was like they weren't even there, it was just about you and your friends now.

"Fuck, man," Patrick blinked slow, standing beside Art just feet away from you.

Art ran his hands through his hair, in disbelief at the way your ass moved in your dress,

"I'm gonna be honest, Pat. I don't think either of us could handle that."

For the first time, Patrick nodded, wordlessly agreeing.

It didn't take long for your friends to disperse about the apartment, most of them heading out to the balcony to smoke. You decided to stay behind inside ("For your guests, right?" Nessa had snickered, smirking over at Art and Patrick).

"Are you bored to death yet? You're the only two dudes here," you sauntered over to the two boys, who were leaning against the kitchen counter. All three of you were just a bit more than tipsy, eyes bleared over and heat fanned against your cheeks, drifting about in that pleasantly warm dreamscape.

"Bored? You just baby birded both of us with Ciroc," Art guffawed, and you cocked your head to the side, looking up at him with those low, drunk eyes,

"Yeah, you want more?"

"I want whatever you have to give me," Art replied with quickness, simply entranced by your eyes and that sweet voice. You chuckled, shaking your head.

A smattering of shrieking sounded from outside on the balcony. You scoffed, swiping a joint that Alicia had rolled from off the kitchen table. You started walking down the hall, back faced to them as you said,

"They're so loud. Let's go somewhere quieter."

Art and Patrick both gave each other a glance— they weren't sure if the night would ever actually come to this, but still they didn't quite know what to expect. All they knew was that whether or not either of them could "pull" you, you were the one in charge. Your hips swung more freely from side to side as you walked loosened by the Henny and Ciroc concoctions of the night. Art and Patrick's eyes were like pendulums following your hips.

You turned into the guest bedroom, plopping down onto the bed.

"Close the door," you gestured to Art. Heart pounding, he closed it behind him.

Art and Patrick stood stupidly in front of you. You shook your head at them, laughing quietly,

"Are y'all gonna sit?"

They might as well have tripped over themselves zooming to sit next to you on the bed, one on either side of you. You had the whole world in your hands. It was silent bar for the muffled R&B music from outside. For boys who were so flirtatious, they were awfully quiet now. You shifted to place your legs underneath you, sitting on your knees, your dress riding up your thighs just so. If they looked behind you, they'd see your ass poking out a bit too.

"So. Who's idea was it, hmm?" you hummed. "I mean, you must've wanted to come find me. I'm impressed."

You lit the joint, pressing it to your lips.

"Saw your Myspace post. Thought we'd keep you company," Patrick admitted, coolly as ever, though you saw the bulge forming in his jeans, saw the way his eyes drifted down to your lips around the joint.

You tossed your head back to exhale, giggling up at the ceiling and covering your mouth with your hand.

"You thought you'd keep me company. Y'all are too good."

You passed the joint over to Art, who took a drag and exhaled while keeping it perched in the corner of his mouth, voice half-muffled as he continued,

"We just wanted to make sure you weren't lonely, that's all."

"Yeah," Patrick took the joint from Art, doing the same. "Since you don't have a boyfriend or anything."

This time, Patrick lifted the joint up to your lips for you. You leaned into it, slowly wrapping your lips around it and sucking for just a second longer than you usually would, never breaking eye contact while Patrick's smirk grew wider and wider with each passing second. You blew the smoke out and it fanned against his face.

"And how would you two know if I don't have a boyfriend?"

Art sniffed, humored, as you passed the joint to him. It was starting to hit now — a haze rose up just so slightly in the air. You relaxed into it, feeling emboldened.

"Don't think we'd be here if you did," Art shot back.

You snaked forward, taking the joint from Art's lips and putting it to your own. He let out a sharp breath at the casual dominance such an action exuded. Your face was just inches away from his— you didn't know if it was the weed, or how turned on you were after exercising the utmost self-control for the better part of the night, but you noticed that his eyes had such a gleaming strike of blue in them.

"Think you got me, is that it?" you questioned, so close to Art that if you inched any further, your nose would brush against his. He swallowed, unsure of whether he should be turned on or scared, but either way, his pants were getting tighter. Your voice was so tantalizingly quiet as if you were sharing a secret just for him and Patrick. You huffed out a humored breath. "I'm not gonna fuck you, you know."

The way you were looking at him begged to differ. You felt the strap of your dress slide down ever so gently over your left shoulder. Before you could push it up, Patrick's hand, strong and firm, was grazing against your shoulder, pushing your dress strap up. You let your gaze on Art linger for just a moment longer before you turned to Patrick, smirking. You handed him the joint, which had gone out. He placed it on the bed beside him. You were leaning in, an unmistakably seductive twinkle in your eyes as you got even closer to Patrick, murmuring under your breath,

"'M not gonna fuck you either."

“Not gonna fuck me?” Patrick smirked, looking from your hazey eyes to your lips. You pressed your lips into his, letting your eyes flutter closed as you hummed your response into his mouth,

“Mm-mm.”

A slight breath escaped Patrick, keeping his mouth open so you could slip your tongue against his. Patrick kissed you hard and slow, his hands immediately wrapping around your back as you lifted your leg over his lap and straddled him. You could feel how much he’d been wanting this by the way his tongue curved effortlessly against yours and his grip on your hips got stronger. He kissed the way he talked. Rough and hard, but with effortless ease, like he knew exactly what you liked. Maybe it was his confidence that made the kiss so good, his lips locked in perfectly with yours. You reached behind, pulling Art in as you simultaneously pushed Patrick down so his back was against the mattress. 

You pulled away from Patrick and in one fluid motion turned your head to kiss him, letting your hand wrap against his neck and run up through his hair. Patrick, who was watching from the pillow, groaned and let his head fall against the pillow. Art kissed you needily, but gentler than Patrick. He kissed you like he was parched and your lips were a fountain of water found in a barren land— like he needed to explore more. As you kissed Art, you felt Patrick’s hands kneading your ass, and you moaned — which made them both moan. It took everything in Patrick not to just lift your dress over your ass. But you must have been reading his mind because you wiggled your dress over your ass so it was finally exposed. 

“That’s it,” Patrick groaned in approval, his hands finding new purchase against your bare skin, squeezing your ass with a tender grip.

Your kiss with Art grew sloppier, spit threatening to spill out from the side of your mouth as Art pressed himself against you. You let your hand wander down to his black jeans and gripped the hard bulge that was poking out, running your hand up and down it. Patrick, not one to be left behind, took the liberty of lifting your dress a little higher so he could see the black, lacy panties you wore. He let out a low whistle, his firm on your hips grew firmer, keeping them in place as he ground his up into you, rolling up directly against your clit through your underwear. You gasped when you felt how big Patrick was, pulling away from Art to look down at the sight of Patrick’s hips snapping slowly into you. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, tilting your head gently to the side so Art could press his lips against your neck. 

Patrick chuckled, but he was unable to hold back the groan that lodged in his throat. He could feel your clit pulsing through your underwear. 

“Take it off, baby,” you gestured down to Art, who scrambled to take your dress off, throwing it carelessly to the side once it was over your head. Both the boys nearly busted on the spot, because instead of being greeted with a black, lacy bra, your tits simply tumbled out of your dress, perfectly plump and brown and sitting pretty. 

“Oh my god,” Patrick groaned at the sight of your tits above him. He sat up immediately, attaching his mouth immediately to your tits. Art, a whimpering mess by this point, followed quickly, his lips wrapping around your stiff, brown nipple. They both sucked on your tits lasciviously, reserving one for each of them. The lewd sounds of their tongues sucking your plush skin as their hands fondled and squeezed you filled the room. Art was gentle, shifting from reaching a hand underneath your tit and cupping you softly to circling a gentle finger around your nipple. Patrick was more direct, grabbing you with closed hands. 

If you weren’t so turned on, you would honestly giggle at the sight— these two boys who’d been fiending for you for so long, showing you just how long they’d been waiting for this very thing. It was a wonder — the school’s prestigious tennis players who attended every frat party and had enough money to be set for life (Patrick at least), reduced to a melting puddle beneath you. At your beck and call, your mercy, even as the grind of Patrick’s dick against your clit made you soak through the panties. 

You looked down at them with a cunning smile playing on your lips, cupping both their chins softly,

“You’ve been wanting this real bad, haven’t you?”

Two pairs of needy, blissed-out eyes looked up at you immediately, their heads nodding insistently as they moaned around your nipples. You chuckled, your laugh ringing like bells in their ears. You tasted so divine and they hadn’t even tasted you where it really counts. Art decides he wants to get a head start. You felt his hand, his fingers long and spindly, travel down your body, past your soft stomach and down your thigh, until it looped back up to the waistband of your panties. He toyed with the waistband of your panties, pulling at the stretchy fabric until he let it snap against your waist. 

He pulled away, his lips warm and wet against your ear as he whispered,

“Can I?” 

You bit down on your lip and nodded, gazing at him as he let his hand travel back down until it crept into your panties, never breaking eye contact even as he dipped two fingers against your soaked slit. You trembled at his touch and he smirked, cocking his head gently as he brought his fingers to his lips, tasting you on his fingers.

“She tastes so good, Pat, you gotta try,” Art said, leaning down — Patrick, dazed, lifted his head and looked up at Art with glazed-over eyes.

You watched, rendered speechless for the first time that night as Art dipped his fingers back just slightly against you again, and placed them at Patrick’s wanting lips. Patrick sucked the taste of you off Art’s fingers like it was nothing, like he’d done it before and would do it a thousand times more. The sight of him, lifting his head up to meet Art’s fingers, made you stir above him. 

“Fuck, she’s perfect,” Patrick practically moaned, his lips hovering at Art’s fingers. He wasn’t even looking at you, still holding Art’s gaze as he dipped his hand into your panties and prodded at your slit, the pad of his finger tapping against all the arousal that’s gathered there, making wet sounds like fat raindrops collecting in a puddle. “She’s so wet already, shit.” He held Art’s gaze for a moment longer before he turned to you. 

“Can we taste you?” Art asked, his voice soft and lilted. 

You lifted yourself off of Patrick’s lap and kneeled between the two of them, taking their shirts off one by one. Art went to take off his cap, You embraced Art in a kiss first, then Patrick, until it was lost on you which was which— it was all a blur, mouths sloppily entangled and meeting in the middle, kissing each other all at once and you were certain Art and Patrick’s lips met more than a few times. Somewhere in the middle, they had pushed you back against the mattress. You whined as their lips suctioned against your body, down down down until they stopped between your thighs.

You couldn’t see whose lips were on you first, but you were sure it was Patrick, the way he dove right in without hesitation and started sucking expertly at your clit. You cried out, your back arching slightly off the bed at the sudden jolt of pleasure from the contact. You saw Patrick’s tuft of black curls right in between your thighs, and Art’s golden-orange locks just beside him, placing chaste kisses on your inner thighs, his hand massaging the plush skin there too. 

Patrick moaned from in between your legs, sending vibrations through your core and up your chest. You relaxed into his touch, pushing his head in and burying your fingers in his curls. He made sure to drag his tongue along every inch of you, pointing it into your slit and thrusting it into you, and flattening his whole tongue against you as he gave kitten licks to your pussy.

His grecian nose poked deliciously against your clit and he used it to his advantage, bobbing his head up and down each time you moaned at the point of contact. He sucked your clit gently with his lips, toyed at your slit with his finger and glanced up at you to gauge your reaction. The moan that fell from your lips as you locked eyes with him from between your legs was almost pornographic, and enough for him to slide one thick finger inside of you. 

You were writhing above him and Art, moaning ever so softly. Your tits were splayed perfectly against your chest and your face was constantly contorted in the sweetest expressions. They’d both imagined you like this, mouth open and eyes rolling back into your head, trapped in bliss. Then another finger, fucking into you deep and slow as he continued lapping up all your arousal, all while Art kissed your thighs with increasing hunger, his once soft kisses becoming wet and crazed. 

“Fuck,” Patrick pulled away, his mouth and chin glistening wet with spit and your arousal. “Art, taste her pussy. Want you to feel what I did to her.”

Art whimpered and assumed position immediately. 

“Wait,” you said, shifting and turning yourself around so you were on your knees, your pussy pulsing right in front of Art’s face while Patrick pulled down his shorts and boxers, wrapping a hand around his shaft and starting to tug slowly, groaning under his breath. Meanwhile, Art’s eyebrows rose up so far he thought they’d get stuck there, his mouth dropping slightly at the sight of your pussy throbbing around nothing, your folds dripping with a mixture of your own arousal and Patrick’s spit. 

You placed your head on the pillow, craning your neck to look back at the two boys. You liked the juxtaposition that was happening — the two of them in full control of your pleasure, while you were granting them the only thing they’d been thinking of for weeks now.

“Oh fuck,” Art whispered to himself, and Patrick chuckled darkly, squeezing the base of his cock. 

You wouldn’t admit it, but their faces in this moment were seared in your mind permanently – Art’s gaze of pure amazement, and Patrick’s wicked smirk snaking across his entire face, glaring down at your pussy. It was enough to make a shiver run down your spine, how readily they consumed you — the feeling of being wanted wasn’t new to you, but with them, it was just… different.  

“Her pussy looks so pretty after it’s been ate, doesn’t it?” Patrick noted to Art, who nodded with a broken whimper before shoving his face into your pussy, his button nose dancing against your clit as he put his tongue to work. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, your head dropping down against the pillow. Art might have been gentler, but that did not mean worse by any means.

If anything, he was passionate, noting every slight movement and sound you made and following in your stead. His tongue lappd against your clit, pleasure climbing up your spine. The new angle had you struggling to keep your legs up, but Patrick was sure to keep you in check.

“This is what you wanted right?” he proclaimed, one hand on your thigh to hold you steady, the other still stroking his cock, a bit faster now. A guttural moan surged from your throat as you nodded weakly. “Yeah? So take it. Take Art’s tongue in your pussy, fuck.”

Patrick looked down, his mouth hanging open as he watched the way Art slurped away. He detached his lips only to slide a finger in, kissing you gently as he fucked his finger into you, slow and deep and relishing the way you stretched over his finger. 

“So fucking warm,” he muttered, talking to your pussy like you and him were the only two in the room. He slipped another finger inside you, which made you cry out, pussy throbbing around his fingers. “There you go, squeeze my fingers.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, delirious. Art was rutting against the bed now, chasing his high along with you, and Patrick’s hand was working overtime on his cock, spreaidng the precum leaking from his tip along the shaft. His hand reached up to smack your ass, groaning at the way it reveberated beneath his touch. 

“You’re so fucking hot, oh my god.”

Inadvertently, you started to catch the rhythm of Art’s fingers, throwing your hips back against his fingers and his face. The sight of your ass practically covering Art’s face was almost too much for Patrick to handle — he actually glanced away for a second, hoping he could hold off on his swift-approaching orgasm. 

“Yeah, fuck back onto my face, I want you to use me,” Art moaned, muffled by your thighs wrapped around his head. 

You weren’t sure when it all happened, you just knew that you were moaning both their names as you’re sent over the edge, Patrick and Art deftly following — Patrick in his hands, Art in his jeans, hips stuttering against the bed. You squeezed around Art's fingers as you dripped down onto the bed, soaking Art's tongue and chin. It took a while for all of you to gain some semblance of reality, pushing past the haze of pleasure and smoke and bitter alcohol that you were floating in. 

“Did you come in your jeans?” Patrick’s voice cut through the foggy silence, and Art slapped his chest. 

“Shut up, look what you did to the sheets.”

You were lying on your back, gazing up at the two boys with a sated grin, resting your hands on your stomach. 

“Aren’t you glad we found you?” Patrick teased. 

You didn’t have to answer, he already knew.

i think i’m gonna have a part two for this you guys have no idea how much i was debating whether or not they should fuck in this but i feel like reader is the type to make them wait…  plus it would've actually been a novel if i added that and i wanted to get this out cuz i don't wanna keep y'all waiting!! so when they fuck they'll fuck NYASTY.

[sleeplesssmoll]

Vertin's personality and traits based on in-game context.

Contains Spoilers.

Will update when I find more tidbits about our beloved Timekeeper.

Updated: March 15 2024

Vertin sucks at math.

Not much to say here. Although, this is another difference between her and Sonetto, who loves math. I hope they do something with this later because it'd be fun.

Vertin is 16 confirmed

While this isn't a personality trait, I did see some debate about her age since it wasn't officials stated until now and it was assumed through context. Prisoner in the Cave explicitly confirms her age. Vertin became Timekeeper when she was 12 and has been the the TK for the past 4 years.

Vertin is a pianist and a painter.

You can see a piano in the back of her office in the Suitcase by the window. It makes sense in regards to Vertin's musically inclined Arcanum. There's an easel and stool in her office too. She doesn't merely collect art, she creates it. Vertin also owns a camera (official artwork released) too and mentions her photography in the begining, so this isn't new but I thought I should add it.

Vertin's still playful under all her composure.

We know baby Vertin was a little menace, but we can still see a spark of that mischief in her later years. For example, Vertin slapping a fake mustache on Regulus to avoid Sonetto really captures this. We can tell from other characters' voice lines that Vertin will most likely play along with their shenanigans. She'll chirp like a bird in response to Rabies talking about his bird friends (Wilderness interaction). She'll help Sonetto during hide and seek (Wilderness). She watches movies with Eternity and An An Lee. X asks her for help with his projects. Going through her crew's voice lines really paints a better picture of how she interacts with others. The voice lines point to someone playful and curious when she's not in work mode.

Vertin was a gremlin.

Vertin's love language is giving.

We know baby Vertin loved to give gifts to a reluctant Sonetto, but that part of her still exists. She tried to grant everyone's last wishes during the 1929 Storm. We also know she gives Lilya alcohol as a gift upon her return from 1929. She is also very direct. We see her ask people what they want or what can she do for them throughout the story. To expand further, you could say she likes fulfilling people's desires instead of limiting it to material gifts. We can see more of instances of this during the Green Lake event, especially in the way she protects Jessica from the Foundation. She also tried to get Regulus funding for a ship. I love the Suitcase Dad meme, but it's rooted in nuggets of truth.

She was a crappy student, yet she was also a resourceful gremiln. Vertin never liked the institution! Honor student? Top of the class? Never. Teachers are filled with that "Godamnit Vertin" energy toward her too. I hope we see more gremlin energy in the future.

One-sided childhood friends.

Vertin is a collector.

Sonetto and Vertin were desk mates but Sonetto couldn't stand Vertin when they were kids. She even tried to avoid Vertin at times but Vertin persisted with her gifts. We can see this in the hallway scene. Sonetto's about to change routes to avoid Vertin but Vertin called out to her to give her a frog she caught. Kinda funny how Sonetto can't stand Vertin but also can't resist her when they were kids. Vertin and Matilda were actually closer back then. Well, at least until the tear gas incident. Sonetto changed after Vertin was hurt and the rascal wasn't around to bother her. I feel like this tidbit says a lot about Vertin and her influence on people.

Baby Vertin collected rocks, bugs, and frogs. Adult Vertin collects painting and mementos of people she's lost. Things were simpler as a kid.

Vertin is stronger than she looks.

She was a wild child and she's still got it years later. Vertin can run for long periods of time, endure injuries, and climb obstacles. That, and she's still essentially a child solider. We see her hold her own when she needs to fight solo doing stuff like dodging bullets. Sonetto and Matilda also exhibit these freakishly athletic traits, especially Sonetto.

Vertin befriends people in every Era, despite knowing she'll lose them.

Compared to the other children raised by the Foundation, Vertin's traveled the world and witnessed loss in every Era. This opens doors to a whole new set of questions. How did she change over time? How do the Arcanists she recruited before the story treat her? Did she have crushes in previous Eras? Were the oranges just as bitter? Vertin seems to get close to people very easily and doesn't build walls around herself despite the trauma. You'd think someone who's lost so much would stop trying to get close to people, but she doesn't.

Vertin is optimistic.

Even as a child, she was full of hope. It's why she fights for the future and is a core part of her personality. She needs to fight for all those she lost and stop the Storm from taking more lives.

Vertin gets quiet when embarrassed/shy.

She'll blush and fall silent, but she doesn't stammer or go all tsundere. We can see this in voice lines. Sonetto's high praises make her cover her face with her hands. Eternity gets a reaction out of her when she holds her hand. She also blushed when she received surprise smooch and fell silent.

Vertin has a unique scar on her back.

Vertin is a tactile person.

Arcana mentions the scar after Vertin was shot multiple times in the back by Schneider. It's a big scar and new theories about the scar are ongoing and interesting!

In several voice line interactions, Vertin is patting people's heads or holding their hands. Not all her crew mates are on board with it, some seem confused, and others play along. We can also see examples in story like her handing Sonetto a frog while gently grasping her hand or her taking Regulus's hand to lead her into the Suitcase. Here is a post with the evidence to back this claim.

Vertin sucks at arcanum but her deep understanding of arcanum is uncanny.

The story mentions her weak arcanum skills throughout the story. They really want you to remember this. Also, her arcanum didn't manifest until sometime after the break away event but before the events in the prologue. During her stay in the guardhouse, she doubts if she's even an arcanist and mentions her arcanum has yet to manifest, which is wild. Smoltin is fighting with her tiny hands and wit in this chapter. However, in the prologue it's mentioned Vertin's understanding of arcanum and her perception makes her unique amongst arcanists. She's also considered more "rationale" than other arcanists. You can read more about this here.

Vertin is stealthy.

Smoltin sneaks around to play outside. She steals food for herself and the Ring from the Staff Canteen, which has better quality food than what the kids get. This tells me she's done this before. Adult Vertin also sneaks around the Walden to find Schneider. She makes maps, tracks guard routes, and avoids detection since whe was a kid.

Tooth Fairy was one of the few Foundation members who cared about Vertin.

Tooth Fairy is the one who gave Smoltin the toffees (chit chat voicelines). She also covered for Vertin on a few occasions to protect her from punishment. She remembers Vertin faking her illness to skip class, but her bruises and wounds were real. The Foundation does have a few kind hearts that genuinely care about the children. The causes of Vertin's injuries is up to speculation.

[queenhoneybee-exe]

♥ reverse miraculous AU ♥

🐞🐱🐞🐱🐞🐱🐞🐱🐞🐱🐞🐱

this has been so long in the making im sobbing. im hoping this gets at least some notes bcs ive got so much stuff planned!! i'd basically be rewriting the whole series hehe. anyways--

🐱marinette dupain-cheng🐱

she/her

daughter of two famous fashion designers (tom+sabine)

has plagg

model, class rep, wants to be a fashion designer

confident, a bit sassy but means well

in love w m. cocchinot, doesn't much care for adrien

relationship with her kwami:

pre-s1 (and pre-plagg) marinette was very quiet & reserved, plagg helped bring her confidence out

he also forces her to relax because she tends to bring on more projects than she's able to manage (like in canon)

as a superheroine:

basically a fem version of canon chat noir - sassy, full of cat puns and witty comebacks, charming, confident

AND she purrs !

unlike canon chat, felinette uses her cataclysm sparingly and only when requested by m cocchinot

🐞adrien agreste🐞

he/him/they

son of paris' best baker (just emilie)

has tikki

confectioner, baker, always ready to help marinette

awkward, nerdy and klutzy but makes the best damn macaroons EVER and still plays the piano

absolutely smitten w marinette, only platonic love for felinette

relationship with his kwami:

pre-s1 (and pre-tikki) adrien was homeschooled due to his disability, so now he's just as clueless as he is in the show

tikki helps him see his best side, gives him confidence and calms him down after another awkward interaction w marinette

as a superhero:

a natural leader, kind and responsible, emphatic, calm and collected even in the face of danger, an absolute lovable babie

his magical powers make him invincible, helping him w his disabled leg

he does fly at times to let up on his leg, but he can't fly too far and for too long

🐞🐱🐞🐱🐞🐱🐞🐱🐞🐱🐞🐱

♥ the lovesquare ♥

marinette

m cocchinot: crush

adrien: 1st half of s1 indifferent, 2nd half of s1 friends

adrien

felinette: friends & partners

marinette: crush

🐞🐱🐞🐱🐞🐱🐞🐱🐞🐱🐞🐱

extra info:

sabine and emilie know abt their respective kids' identities (the kids don't know this)

adrien and chloe still grew up together and are friends to this day

thank you for reading this far! ;w;

[wave2tyun]

apple cider | ☆

pairing: huening kai x reader

genre: fluff, childhood friends to lovers

summary: you were foolishly blind to the feelings you held for your best friend, huening kai, until one they, they started to bottle up like soda pop

warnings: slight injury?? nothing serious<3

word count: 3.5k

a/n: apple cider by beabadoobee has been ON REPEAT!!!! these past few days!!!!1!1! which is why i believed it might be the perfect time to bring this fic back!!😋 i love love love writing things based on songs, and this is (obviously asbdsjha) where the inspo for this fic came from, as well as the studio ghibli movie 'from up on poppy hill'!! :D also, is it just me or do 24 hours in a day simply not feel like enough anymore......?😖

☆ = repost from my old blog!!

huening kai was the definition of a sweetheart. grandmas loved him, animals adored him, he was the type of boy anybody's parents would be delighted to meet if you brought him home. and most importantly, he was your best friend.

you and kai met in kindergarten. your very first interaction happened when your parents were late to pick you up, so you, a sensitive child started crying a river. kai was even faster than the teacher to approach you, napkin in his hand and a sweet smile on his face. he patted your back until your parents arrived, sometimes cracking some pokemon impressions in an attempt to make you smile again like he saw you earlier that morning. during your arts and crafts session the next day, you made kai a sloppy drawing of his favorite pokemon character, which, to this day, he insists is the greatest gift he has ever received, the treasured piece of paper sitting in a frame on his nightstand to remain in pristine condition.

from that day on, you only ended up spending more and more time together. you switched seats so that you could sit next to each other during classes, played together during breaks and became lunch buddies, an unspoken promise which had been kept during primary school, middle school, and even now, as you were both high school students in your last year. kai grew up to be a piano prodigy, thus becoming the president of the school's music club. you, on the other hand, wasn't any interested in any extracurricular activities, preferring to stay in bed and sleep your day away on the days where your parents weren't attacking you with house chores. still, you and kai were stuck together like glue. you talked on the phone every day at midnight, rambling on about your day or about anything that crossed your mind; you tried your best to meet up outside of school whenever your schedules allowed, popping a cold bottle of your favorite sweet apple cider.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

your eyes scanned the tables for kai once again. he told you to meet up at the outside dining area, but 15 minutes had passed and he was nowhere to be seen. you huffed, placing your tray down at a table where some of your classmates sat. ‘can’t believe he’d ditch me today’ you angrily pierced the straw through your milk carton.

the sound of a loud horn startled you, making you almost choke on your drink. the highest windows of the school were opened with a bang, paper scrolls coming out of them, followed by the heads of some students as they were peeking out.

“are those the club leaders?” someone at your table asked.

“yeah...seems like so” yunjin answered “what are they up to now?”

you shielded your eyes with your hand, squinting as you tried to read the words written on the papers.

‘lack of freedom kills the people’

“they’re protesting” you broke the silence, making everyone’s head turn towards you “the principal has been wanting to shut down the clubs”

some students gathered around the dining area, they moved in sync and with fast movements, taking out the grate that was placed over the water basin outside. you shrugged, going back to your meal. you weren’t exactly sure what they were going to achieve with this. not even a minute later, yunjin gave you a tap on the shoulder, pointing towards the roof.

“isn’t that-“ she stopped midway, unable to finish her sentence. your face was instantly drained of color at the sight.

it was huening kai.

“what the hell is he doing up there” you mumbled, frowning. you didn’t have a good feeling about this- whatever this was.

huening kai had a bright smile plastered on his face, the whole school’s attention being on him. he coughed then cleared his throat before loudly speaking.

“if our words weren’t enough to reach principal Jung, then that means that it is time for us to turn to actions” he inched closer towards the edge of the roof. his voice remained confident, but his hands betrayed him, shaking as he held the mic close to his chest.

you gulped. you felt nauseous, an empty feeling was taking over your stomach despite the distance between the roof and the ground not being that high.

“if you don’t want to respect us- we will make ourselves heard” huening kai turned his head, looking back at the boys behind him, who gave him a short nod. then, he put the mic down, taking a deep breath before diving into the air, aiming for the water basin.

the plan was easier said than done, and kai stumbled into a bush before landing down on his knees in the shallow water. the members of the photography club were quick to capture the moment, just like you were quick to jump out of your seat and approach the boy. “are you okay-“ you reached your hand out to help him stand up. kai’s smile never faltered away, and once he was back on his feet, he gave you a wink as he clasped your hands together. the bright flashes of the cameras surrounded you in an instant, the photographers pushing through to get “the best shot”.

your cheeks turned a bright shade of red, and you let go of his hands, mumbling as you went back to your seat “stupid- so stupid” you continued to stuff your face with the sandwich you had packed in your lunch bag. why was your face burning that much anyway- you shook your head, trying to ignore the thoughts invading your mind, as well as the hushed whispers coming from all around you. you couldn’t let such foolish actions disturb your day.

kai, as usual, still called you that night. you, however, loved being stubborn. when you saw his name coming up on the screen of your phone, you contemplated for a few minutes, before swiping to deny the call. ‘that should teach him’ you thought. barely a minute later, you were already regretting your decision. you were still mad at him, yet, for some reason, you still wanted to hear his voice, just like every other night. it never mattered to you whether it was a proper conversation. you didn’t care what kai would be talking about- you just wanted to feel like you had him, in some way, close to you, though your pride didn’t allow you to be the one to initiate another call. why was it that you wished to hear him so badly? after all, you didn’t even like him...right? or at least- you didn’t even like him that much- right?

you tossed and turned in your bed, unable to let your eyelids close.

fuck.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

dark circles adored your eyes as a result of the poor sleep you had last night. you wished you could skip the first period and remain in bed for just a few minutes more, but your mom wasn’t having any of that. she took the blanket off your bed and opened your window, forcing you to get up and get ready for the day.

you stood in the hallway, head buried in the school’s newspaper, which teased ‘a revolution’ as well as ‘an endearing romance’ with a big image of you and kai holding hands on the front page.

“is there any way i could make it up to you?” you heard a voice near you.

you closed your locker’s door, kai’s face coming into sight, grinning as always. you wanted to ignore him for the day, pretending to be mad at him for the embarrassment that he had put you through the day before. but kai knew you too well- he had already anticipated your reaction to his stunt, and he wasn’t going to let you get rid of him so easily.

“depends. do you have anything in mind?” you crossed your arms, leaning on your side against the locker.

“apple cider, 10 pm at the playground. sounds good?”

you bit your lip to fight back the smile that was threatening to take over your face. looking down at the floor, you chuckled.

“i guess that would suffice. we’ll see”

the bell rang, signaling the end of your break. kai took the chance to quickly ruffle your hair before sprinting to his class. ‘dork’ you snorted, putting it back into place before going your own way.

you were quick to prepare dinner that day. both of your parents were taken aback by the stark change in your attitude compared to how you behaved in the morning, the sudden surge in energy being questionable. they chose not to bring it up though, afraid that they might ruin your mood. you arrived at the playground at 10 pm sharp and sat on one of the swings there, protecting the other vacant one from the kids that still lingered around until kai came. and soon enough, there he was, apple cider bottles in his hands (just like he promised) as he approached you. you smiled at the sight.

“are you that happy to see me?”

“you wish- i’m just happy to receive the apple cider” you joked, lying through your teeth.

“ah- i’m hurt” hueningkai frowned, dramatically putting a hand over his heart. you laughed at his cute antics. he took his place on the swing, handing you one bottle.

“that jumper looks pretty on you, i like it”

“t-thanks” you stuttered, looking down, failing to see the tips of his ears turning pink. you took a sip from the bottle, the taste so refreshing and all too familiar.

“so- did you manage to convince the principal not to shut down the clubs?”

kai chuckled, reminiscing the events “yeah-“ he stood up, putting his hands on his hips and clearing his throat before speaking again with an exaggerated lower voice “never in my 40 years in this field have i ever seen such- such outrageous actions” pinching the bridge of his nose, he continued “whatever, just do whatever you want. at this point it’s less of a pain to let you continue than to cancel everything”

you burst into laughter at his silly act. kai always had his imitations spot on, and to you, it was much more entertaining than any kind of comedy movie.

“i’m glad it wasn’t all in vain” your smile died down upon noticing the bandages wrapped around his hand “is your hand okay though?”

“oh- yeah, don’t worry about it, it’s just a scratch” he replied quickly, stuffing it in the pocket of his jacket before sitting back down. you sat in silence for a while after that, kicking around the pebbles underneath your feet.

“i’m sorry” kai whispered softly.

“hm? sorry for what?” you frowned.

“sorry for getting you involved in this, it wasn’t supposed to be like that- i told the other members of the club to remove the picture from the article but they didn’t listen”

“hey- it’s okay” you reassured him “it was out of your control, it wasn’t like you knew this whole fiasco was going to unfold”

“but-“ he tried to argue,

“no buts” you interrupted him, laughing “whatever happened, happened. plus- i got to drink some apple cider. even better since it was with you- so, it’s all good”

kai returned your smile, he seemed to be a bit more at ease after hearing those words. you wished that you could have found the strength to get up and give him a hug too, but you were too afraid that your heart would burst if you did that now.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“i’m home” you shouted as you stepped inside the house. leaving your bag on the floor in the hallway, you dragged your feet to the kitchen and put on the apron to get started on your dinner. your parents never got off work before your classes ended, meaning that the responsibility of preparing food for everybody always fell on you. you opened the cabinet underneath the sink to get some potatoes, but your hand reached out into nothingness. confused, you crouched down to have a better look. your face dropped as you realised that there was nothing left inside. that one vegetable was the whole star of the dish, meaning that there was simply no way to substitute it.

‘shit shit shit-‘ you stormed out the door, wanting to slap yourself in the face as you recalled the moment your mother asked you to stop by the farmer’s market in the morning. maybe, just this once, the traffic would be jammed and your parents wouldn’t be so quick to return home from work. you struggled to put on your jumper as you also held a basket in your hand, wanting to be as quick as possible. just as you were about to make your way down, you someone called out from behind you:

“need a ride?” kai was riding his bike to his grandparents, but stopped in his tracks upon seeing you in such a hurried and panicked state.

“god- yes, please” you fumbled over your words. the timing couldn’t have been any more perfect; you were so grateful to see him there, you could almost see a ray of light shining on him and a halo on top of his head.

“have a seat then” he laughed.

you quickly sat down in the back of kai’s bicycle. looking down at the steep path in front of you, you gulped “are you sure it’s okay for us to ride together?”

“just hold on tight” kai took hold of your hands and wrapped them around his torso before pressing on one pedal with his foot. you couldn’t even brace yourself properly for the impact as you went down the hill of doom; your head instantly hit kai’s muscular back, and you found yourself holding his body tighter. you closed your eyes, trying to shift your focus from the citizens passing by you in a blur, to the sweet scent of his fruit-punch shampoo invading your senses. kai swiftly took a turn to the left, effortlessly avoiding all the possible obstacles in his path. thankfully, you both made it to the farmer’s market in one piece.

sighing in relief, you lifted yourself up and walked to the nearest vegetable stall around. kai remained right next to you, making a purchase of his own. he munched on a freshly fried hashbrown as you did the necessary shopping, holding a second piece in his other hand.

“all done” your shoulders slumped down, the whole thing had drained you both physically and mentally. you quirked an eyebrow as you looked at kai eating.

“what?” he asked, throwing the last piece of food in his mouth “i need energy to go back”

“right” you sighed “thank you so much. i might live to see another day because of you” you tried to joke. in reality, the thought of your parents scolding you alone was enough to make your heart start beating faster.

“don’t worry about it” he chuckled “here- take this” he handed you the hashbrown he had been holding. you took it reluctantly, not having expected to receive something like this.

“eat it- it’s good. plus, you need energy too” kai grabbed his bicycle again, positioning himself on the leather seat “i have to go now, you should probably hurry too.” he smiled “take care, y/n” kai sent you a little wave before setting off. you stood on the side of the road for one more moment, smiling at the hashbrown in your hand. you took the first bite as you started to go up the hill again, the worries that were clouding your head quickly disappearing.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

somehow, soon enough, you found yourself in front of kai’s house. you wanted to thank him for his sweet gesture from a few days ago. if it weren’t for him, your parents would have probably kept you locked in the house. you didn’t know what you were going to say to him. staring at the box of cookies you brought with you, you tried to muster up the courage to knock on the door.

knock knock knock

you waited patiently, biting your lips.

‘maybe there’s still enough time to run-‘

“y/n- hi, come in” kai opened the door, greeting you.

“hi” you blurted out. stepping inside, you took off your shoes, then silently followed behind kai as he guided you towards his room. piano sheets were spread out everywhere- on the floor, on his desk, on his bed. you’ve never seen it look like such a mess.

“oh- sorry, were you practicing?”

“tried to- the music festival is just around the corner, but the song choices are killing me”

“can you show me?” you asked, it was always a pleasure to hear kai practicing, but this time, you were also using this as an excuse to organise your thoughts properly.

“yeah, come here” kai patted the empty space beside him on the piano bench. you hugged the cookie box close to your chest, the short distance between the two of you making you feel nervous.

kai’s fingers glided along the black and white tiles, wrist playfully flicking up as he changed up the speed with ease to create a flawless, harmonious symphony. it sounded perfect- it always did.

“that was great” you spoke softly as he finished up the piece.

“wanna try?” kai offered.

“s-sure” you stuttered, putting down the box. somehow, despite all those years that you’ve known each other, you had never given learning piano a try.

kai took hold of your right hand, placing it on the keys “you have to use the pad of your fingers” he put his hand over yours, gently pressing down to demonstrate. you prayed that he couldn’t hear the loud sound of your palpitating heart “then- move your wrist up before moving on to the next set of notes, then down, like a feather falling” you started to feel light-headed, the feeling of kai’s warm hands on yours making you unable to concentrate on the task at hand. you looked up at him, his face now much closer to you than when you first started practicing. kai’s hand stopped guiding yours, yet didn’t let go of it. he glanced at you, his gaze stopping on your plush, rosy lips.

“holding you closer right now- would that cross the line?” he spoke softly, in a daze.

“maybe i want you to cross the line” you whispered back.

kai stood still for a moment, letting your words sink in. then- with gentle movements, his hand came to rest on your jawline, thumb rubbing against your cheek. he seemed nervous- so nervous to not ruin all of your built-up relationship up until that point. but fuck it- you looked so pretty with that jumper he adored, sitting gingerly on his piano chair, inviting him to finally feel his lips on yours. how was he supposed to resist? and when kai closed the gap, his mouth meeting yours in a gentle peck, it felt so incredibly right, so good and sweet.

one more peck.

his body shifted even closer to you.

another one.

his hand came to rest on your lower back, yours grabbed hold of his soft black sweater.

and once more- but this time, you both let the touch last longer, melting into the feeling.

“can i kiss you more?” kai asked, voice barely above a whisper, his thumb was caressing your lips as he spoke. you nodded, eager to indulge yourself into the taste of his sweet kiss. you hummed as he pressed his lips on yours again, the butterflies in your heart unable to settle down. he grinned into the kiss at the sound, his heart felt warm knowing that you wanted this, and enjoyed this just as much as he did. you pulled away, giving the mole at the corner of his lips a kiss, then you left another on the one near his temple, ending with the one you adored most, the one on his nose. you cupped his face, the temperature of his cheeks rising against your fingertips. kai chuckled as you hid your face in the crook of his neck, the adoration you felt towards him becoming almost too much to handle.

“do you want to stay the night?” kai asked bashfully, his fingers playing with one of your sleeves “i have some apple cider left” he looked up at you, eyes gleaming with hope.

“of course i want to” you giggled, dipping down to leave another peck on his soft lips.

3 bottles of apple cider down, you and kai laid down on the bed, legs tangled with each other as he played with your hair and you braided his. you joked around, playing with the plushies on his bed, sometimes stealing kisses on the cheek from each other and falling into another fit of shy giggles yet again. and when you finally drifted off to sleep, hand in hand, you swore you had never felt your heart feel more at ease.

@huekalover3000 @maybabe00 @sunoooism @boba-beom

[mattiebluebird]

Yk that post that's like ‘signal is the spiritual successor to nightwing’ bc I DO & IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT NON-STOP.

And the comics pretty much confirm it (To Me) in Grayson #15.

So in this issue each of the Robins, minus Steph (RIP Steph) get paired off with one of the We Are Robin gang and give them their own advice on what it means to be Robin.

Tim—whose main problem with this whole thing is that they don't know these kids, how can they trust them?—gets paired with Andre Cipriani, a mob kid whose dad was murdered by a rival gang when he was eight years old. Tim trains Dre by having him fight blindfolded. He tells Dre that being a Robin is about truth and investigation, which makes sense, right? Tim became a Robin by figuring out Batman and Robin’s secret identity (keep this in mind, all the Robins’ advice links to their origin).

To be a Robin, you have to understand what you don't know. And then you must seek to know it. You must always ask: how can I see into the dark? Batman once told me, being a Robin can be summarized into one word: investigation.

These two were an interesting choice to pair up. I would've thought they'd put Dre with Jason, given their violent tendencies—Dre is smart, but at this point in the comics doesn't strike me as particularly investigative. Then again, right after this arc he goes undercover in a gang, so maybe he learned something?

Speaking of learning something: at first I thought they should've paired Dre with Steph (#teamcriminaldads lmao), and while that would be an interesting team, Dre did learn from Tim. If Riko were present in this issue, she would've been a good fit for Steph, as she idolizes the Batgirls and Steph was both a Batgirl and a Robin. Plus, Steph and Riko are both brave & have mean streaks, something that Riko has trouble showing because of her shyness. Steph’s advice probably would've been along the lines of “being a Robin is about defiance”.

Besides, if Tim and Dre weren't paired up, we never would've gotten this interaction.

— You like Liszt.

— What?

— Franz Liszt. The composer. You play the piano. I looked you up. People who play the piano like Liszt.

Points to Tim for the most autistic small talk ever. ‘You like this, which I know because I researched you in a totally non-creepy way.’ Amazing. 10/10.

Dax gets paired with Jason. They're interesting parallels. Dax is the inventor/mechanic of the team, but also sort of the wild card with very strong morals, like Robin!Jason in a way. Like Jason, Dax’s father is (implied to be) a crook, though they took different moral directions because of that—Dax is completely opposed to gun violence.

Anyways, Jason's main reservation is that you can't have Robin without Batman. And I guess he decided to solve this issue by just becoming Batman & making the WAR crew relive his origin story by stealing tires from the mob.

Y'know, kid, Batman once told me, being a Robin comes down to one word: confidence.

Jason Todd, the Crime Alley street kid who had the balls (and the skills) to steal Batman's tires and get away with it. Sort of. Confidence, indeed.

Damian's problem with the Robins is, of course, that they're weak, and strength (according to him) can't be trained; you either got it or you don't. He gets paired with Izzy, who probably has the toughest home life of the WAR crew. Her brother's in a gang (that he regularly beats her up for not joining), and she's failing all her classes because she's too busy working night shifts at her mom's restaurant to sleep or do homework.

So Damian's advice to her is pretty apt:

Batman told me that there is one word that captures the essence of being Robin. Suffering.

Damian and Izzy are both outwardly surly, stubborn characters who have had to fight to survive. Notably, Izzy is the first of the crew to almost resort to killing/guns (in WAR #6). She's also probably the best fighter in the WAR crew after Dre and Riko. She does dancing, gymnastics, judo, and kick-boxing.

And, finally, we reach the point of this whole post: Dick & Duke.

Duke deduces Dick's secret identity in like .5 seconds.

— I've solved a lot of hard in my time. This ain't hard.

— No. No, it wasn't hard. Not for you. Again, Duke Thomas?

Dick: You discovered my secret identity!

Duke: What? Like its hard?

After scoping out their strengths and weaknesses, Dick sends the Robins on individual assignments: Dre and Tim to investigate, Dax and Jason to cause a distraction, Izzy and Damian to apprehend Robo-Batman/Gordon.

Dick brings Duke on to a roof for a stake-out, where they have this exchange.

— You think only the originals understand how to be Robin?

— Nope.

— Yeah. Me neither.

Then it turns out that Dick actually turned them all in to the cops because he wanted them out of harm's way. He's been watching Duke for a while and he knows he's scared of heights, so he led him onto a roof he knew he couldn't get off of. Just before they part ways, Dick imparts his Crucial Robin Advice:

Batman once wais to me that being a Robin is about one thing. Family.

(I find this whole thing super ironic considering Dick's whole aside concerning the Robins was the fact that it doesn't matter if people know you're manipulating them as long as it works.)

The point of Robin? Family. Dick and Duke are alike in this way. Dick only became Robin to get justice for his parents’ murder. Duke only joined WAR to find his parents.

Their origins and motivations are similar, and so are the characters themselves. Dick is often called the world's second-greatest detective next to Batman himself. Duke is a child prodigy—one of our first introductions to his character is when he tried to solve the Riddler's riddles in Zero Year. He loves puzzles. He's an amazing detective.

And, of course, one of the things we know and love about Nightwing is his inherent kindness, something that's present throughout Duke’s entire character arc. Even their hero names, Signal and Nightwing, are parallels of each other (light and dark). Batman’s first sidekick and his last. And, like Nightwing, Signal formed his own team (WAR) with no help from the others (except Alfred ig).

Of course, the entire point of Signal’s character is that he's not just a Robin. He's something different. It reminds me of that post that's like—’poor dick grayson, originator of a legacy he never meant to be a legacy, crushed with guilt and jealousy when he looks at all those who came after’. To me at least, it makes sense that Nightwing’s successor would've never been a Robin at all.

[chiefduckgarden]

This whole thing is feeling like Jim and Pam

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: you're in love with your best friend. She has a boyfriend.

A/N: If the title was enough for you to know what's this about, let me give you a hug :)

Words: 3231

Wanda was amazing.

You knew that very well.

She was kind, funny, talented, smart, friendly and beautiful.... Really, really, really beautiful.

She was your best friend. Since kindergarten you two were inseparable.

But only on the early months of high school you started to develop deeper feelings for her.

You'd spend hours thinking about her eyes. Ohh those green eyes you could get lost in. Found yourself daydreaming about her smile, her laugh, and the way her nose scrunch from time to time.

She was just perfect in every way.

But you didn't dare to tell her, too afraid that your feelings might not be reciprocated. You couldn't lose her. That was the last thing you wanted.

And to be honest, you felt like it wasn't necessary, she was your best friend, always caring and supportive, all the time by your side. Wanda was a lovely person, very affectionate with all the people around her. But specially with you, she was always very touchy, telling you beautiful things and making sure you were feeling okay.

And that worked for you. At least for two semesters.

Vision got transferred to your school on the third semester, and despite being a shy, quiet guy, he got all the attention by being the new kid. And also by being Tony Stark's cousin.

That semester you didn't shared many classes with Wanda (barely three). But Vision did. And of course, Wanda being the warm person she was, didn't hesitate on welcoming him to school.

That's how your nightmare begun.

After the first two weeks of interaction between them, everything Wanda talked about was Vision.

"Did you know Vision was home schooled his whole life?"

"He's also in the debate club now, we're both working together"

"He knows how to play the piano, he said he would teach me someday"

"Vision told me he spoke french, can you believe it?"

Vision this. Vision that. Uggh, you grew tired of listening to his name.

But being her best friend, it was normal for her to share that part of her life with you. And you were very good at hiding your distaste, because she never noticed it.

Four months later she stopped talking so often about him. Suddenly the talks about him ceased. You felt relieved to say the least. Even if you would ask about him, she'd change the subject almost immediately, barely answering to your questions.

You thought that whatever that was going on between them was over. So you didn't pushed any further, and stopped bringing him up.

But one week before the christmas break she dropped the bomb.

- I know I wasn't talking about Vision that much, or at least the way I always do. But now I have something important to tell you... The reasons behind this behavior it's that... We've been dating all this time.

Your smile faded that same instance.

- I know, I know, I should've told you since the beginning but he wanted to keep it private.

You nodded, still dumbfounded.

- Okay... - you said almost in a whisper - So, what changed, why are you telling me this now?

Your hands were shaking, and you could feel your heart skipping like crazy.

She smiled widely.

- Yesterday he asked me to be his girlfriend.

Oh no. No, no, no.

- And I said yes. He's my boyfriend now.

Did you hear that? It was the sound of your heart breaking.

The girl of your dreams, the love of your life was dating someone else.

You were in love with your best friend, but she had a boyfriend now.

- So what do you say Y/N? - she asked you.

You blinked a couple of times before returning your attention back to her.

- Amm...

What were you supposed to say?

"Please break up with him because I fell in love with you"

" That's not fair, I was in love with you first"

"I feel like vomiting"

No, you couldn't say that. You would never jeopardize her happiness.

So you put on your pants and faked a smiley face.

- I'm sorry, that was a lot of information to process, but I'm really happy for you Wands, I hope he makes you really happy.

She smiled and hugged you.

- Thank you Y/N, i was really nervous to tell you, but now I know everything is fine.

You hugged her back.

- Everything is fine - you replied.

Vision suddenly appeared after that and you congratulated him. Not missing the opportunity to warn him.

- You know Vision, I hope you make her really happy, treat her the way she deserves. And If I get to know that, somehow, she isn't happy, or that you made something stupid that hurt her, or if you directly break her heart... I will haunt you down, so you better take care of my bestie....

Both, Wanda and Vision laughed a little. They thought you were half joking, but deep down, you knew you meant it. You would never let someone hurt Wanda.

- I promise Y/N, i will treat Wanda as the princess she is - he said.

- Aww Vis...

She kissed his cheek and you knew you weren't ready to watch them.

- Eww, gross - you said - I better leave now, I don't wanna third wheel in here.

Again, they laughed. And again, you weren’t joking.

-Okay, see you later Y/N - Wanda said, hugging you one last time.

You bid your goodbyes and went straight home. That afternoon you cried your heart out for hours, basically until you fell asleep.

The first weeks were weird for you, Wanda never had any other boyfriends before, so this situation was new for the two of you. The dynamic changed, and even when she still made time for you, she was still in bliss with Vision, and would spend all the possible time with him.

As time passed, you noticed Vision kept up with his promise on treating her right. But if you were honest, you knew you would be a better partner for her.

Vision wasn't bad (not a total asshole, luckily), but from your perspective he was taking Wanda for granted. The way he treated her was normal, good, average.

And Wanda deserved much more than just average.

She deserved the whole world. You would put the universe at her feet if you could.

But Vision, that guy was doing the bare minimum. Wanda used to tell you everything about her relationship. Sometimes that was bad. Sometimes that was good.

You knew, first handed, that sometimes he ditched her to go out with his friends, even when they had agreed on a date. He would ask Wanda to go to her football games, but he didn't attend to her music recitals.

And yes, they were still kissing, and holding hands at school, going on dates. He was still giving her flowers, showing her off to everyone, proudly being her boyfriend.

And you trusted him enough to know he wouldn't cheat on her.

But still, you knew you could be better.

You would attend to each and every single one of her recitals, you would even wait for her at her rehearsals. Damm it, you did it. As her best friend you always waited for her after school. You took her home every afternoon, even if you had to go back to yours later.

You drove her to school every morning, patiently waiting for her to get ready. Vision said she always took too much time, so it was better to meet at school.

You would even go with her to walk her dog. She told you Vision wasn't "a dog person", so he didn't like touching her little dog.

Even Pietro, her twin brother, told you you were better for her one morning before leaving for school when you two were talking outside.

- I always thought you and my sister would end up together.

-What? - you asked, thinking you heard wrong - Why?

- Well, I thought you liked her, I mean, you have a really special bond, and I know she loves you too much... But maybe I was wrong.

You gulped, still freaking out.

- Yeah, maybe you were wrong.

He looked at you, analyzing you for a few seconds.

- But you know, high school relationships never last long... Perhaps, there's still a chance if you two take it.

Suddenly Wanda came out from the house and Pietro winked at you before leaving. He had a scholarship on a private school thanks to his athletic skills, that guy ran as fast as the light, so he didn't attend the same school as you and Wanda.

Under that circumstances high school years passed, and without even thinking about it, you were about to go to college.

Vision and Wanda had their ups and downs, but were still together.

And you were even more in love with her.

Everything was normal, although you noticed slightly changes in Wanda's behavior. She seemed a little less cheerful than before. But maybe that was just you.

You and Wanda always talked about going to NYU together. You also liked UCLA as well, but New York and Wanda sounded like a better idea.

Then she mentioned Vision was also thinking in NYU.

That made you second guess your decision, maybe UCLA was better for you. But no, you couldn't abandoned Wanda, she was happy that her best friend and her boyfriend would be with her.

You still had time to think about it though.

Prom got closer as the days went by, and you didn't know who you would ask to be your date.

You thought that, Wanda would go with Vision. But then she mentioned that his parents were hosting a dinner for him that same night, and that he asked her to be there.

- But you love prom, that's something you've been dreaming since freshman year... - you told her.

- I know, but he's my boyfriend Y/N, and it's a special night for him.

- It's a special night for you too Wands. Why don't you two come to the prom, and then you go to dinner the next day. The dinner can be any other day, but you can't move prom night...

- His parents settle the day, he didn't like the idea of coming anyways...

- But Wanda that's not fair.

- Well, I like the idea of spending that night with my boyfriend, so I'm happy about it too - she said, and you noticed an irritated tone in her voice.

- Are you sure?

- Yes Y/N, I'm sure, if you excuse me I need to go find Vision now.

She left you alone in the bench without saying goodbye.

From that day on things between you felt odd. But you were still picking her up for school and driving her home everyday.

Pietro told you he wasn't happy with his sister's decision on not attending to prom. But you already had gave up on that topic, so you just listened to him.

- By the way, who are you going with? Did you ask somebody? Or did somebody ask you?

You sighed.

- Well, your sister would've been my first choice if Vision didn't attend, but with this situation I don't know, maybe Kate Bishop, she's a really good friend too.

- Ohh, is Y/N going for something special with the archer girl?

- Oh stop it, she's just my friend, I like her but not that way.

- But you do like her...

- Pietro..

- Who do you like? - suddenly Wanda's voice interrupted you.

- Oh, no one, Pietro just like to tease.

- Yeah sure, I just like to tease...

You and him laughed, but Wanda seemed still confused.

- Whatever, let's go Wanda, it's gonna be late.

She went silent the whole way to school, and the moment you parked she just stepped out of the car and said thank to you. You didn't see her for the rest of the day.

That same week you prepared your promposal for Kate and asked her to be your date. She excitedly said yes, and hugged you in front of everyone watching.

In the afternoon, Wanda finally broke the silence on your way back home.

- So you and Kate huh?

- Amm yes, she's one of my closest friends and I wanted to be with someone I feel comfortable with the whole night.

- Hmm, that sounds nice, she's pretty and funny.

- I know, she's the perfect date.

- Why didn't you tell me before? That you were going to ask Kate.

You looked at her confused.

- Well, we haven't had talked that much this week, and I wasn't sure If I would do it until I just did it.

She nodded and looked through the window.

- I've been talking with Vision, about the prom situation and we decided to go to the prom, only for an hour or so, and then leave to have dinner with his parents.

- Oh, that's nice Wanda, it will be awesome to have you there.

- Yeah, that way I can go to prom and he gets his dinner. Everyone happy.

- Yep, everyone happy.

The awaited prom night finally came, you picked up Kate from her house, had nice pretty prom photos taken and had a lot of fun dancing and chatting with your friends.

Wanda and Vision were there as they promised, and since the moment Wanda stepped in the room you couldn't help but stared at her as if she was the only girl in the world.

Her beautiful black dress and her pinned hair did nothing but make her look even more beautiful (if that was possible).

Vision wasn't in the mood for dancing, so Wanda danced with you and your friends the whole time. You felt anger towards him. How could he do that to Wanda? You were dying for having a dance just with her and he wasn't even looking at her.

You felt crowded out of the sudden, so you excused yourself to Kate, telling her you needed to catch some air, and left the room.

Wanda noticed this and followed you right after.

You were standing in an empty hall when she found you.

- Are you okay Y/N? I saw you walking out of the room.

You were a little surprised to see she followed you. But answer with a little smile.

- Yes, I'm fine, it's just I needed some fresh air, it was getting a little bit crowded in there.

- Oh but are you alright? Are you feeling down?

- Oh no, I'm great, just needed some space. Why don't you go back? You were having fun.

- No, actually I was coming to say goodbye, Vision and I are leaving in a few minutes.

You frowned.

-Are you actually leaving? You're having so much fun in there.

- I know but I promised Vision to go to his dinner. Also his parents will be there, I can't cancel them last minute.

- Why not? He canceled you last minute like a thousand times, why can't you take one night to yourself? - you asked slightly annoyed. Wanda deserved to enjoy her prom night, and Vision was taking it away from her.

- Why are you bringing that up? - she asked, also annoyed - Just because he failed sometimes doesn't mean he's a bad person.

- I'm not saying he's a bad person, I'm saying he's a bad boyfriend.

- What? How can you say that? Have you been hating him this whole time?

At this point the both of you were raising your voice tone.

- Yes, I hate whenever he made you feel bad just because he didn't know how to treat you. And I hate that you always forgave him, never realizing that he doesn't deserve you Wanda. Damm it! He's even forcing you to leave your own prom night!

- Are you serious? I'm telling you I want to go, yes I'm having fun but... He needs me.

- I'm your best friend, I need you too, I wanted this to be a special night for us but now you only care about Vision. I tried to be nice to him, but now I like him less and less everytime.

- He doesn't like you either... - she said seriously.

- What?

- He doesn't like you either Y/N, he had always thought that you liked me, that you were in love with me.

Your heart was rushing, and a sudden blushed invaded your face.

- I told him he was wrong, we're only friends. But he never said something mean about you, why are you so against him?

You were still in shock.

- Y/N? Why do you dislike Vision so much?

Your mind was working too fast. He knew, he knew you liked his girlfriend. Maybe this was the proper time to come clean, to try your chance with her. Or maybe it wasn't. Your brain was having a several short-circuit, and before you even though about it, the words came out of your mouth.

- He's right - you said - I love you Wanda, I've been loving you for years.

Wanda could swear the world stopped moving for a second.

- What?

- He's right Wanda, I'm in love with you - you repeated - I'm really sorry if that's weird for you to hear but... And I know it's a really bad timing but I needed you to know.

She looked straight into your eyes, looking for any sign of that being a joke. But she only found your attentive gaze on her, waiting for an answer.

- Y/N... Why are you doing this? You know I... - she seemed nervous and shocked - I can't, he's there and...

- Don't leave Wanda, stay with me.

You saw she was processing everything. A little part of your soul hoped she would nod her head and kiss you, telling you she was in love you with too. But your realistic part took the hit sooner. She was stepping back.

- I'm sorry, I need to go, he's waiting for me.

- Wanda.... - you tried to stop her, but she turned around and started to walk away.

- I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea... That's probably my fault.

- It's not your fault - you said - I'm sorry if I messed things up, I'm so sorry.

She didn't hear that last part, as she was already out of your sight.

You stayed there in the empty hall for twenty minutes. You told everything to Kate and she suggested you to go back home. You didn't want to leave her all alone, but she assured you she would be okay with the rest of your friends so you gave in and left.

You were miserable.

She didn't love you.

She didn't choose you.

The next day she posted a picture of her and Vision at the prom and you knew there wasn't anything you could do.

That week you sent your application letter to the UCLA.

You needed to move on, and you definitely wouldn't apply to the same school as Wanda and her boyfriend.

She made a choice. And that wasn't you.

You had no future in New York.

You had no future with Wanda.

I know Pietro, she's great but, she's my best friend - Wanda said to her brother, tears dried all over her cheeks - I just never thought she would feel the same way. I didn't know what to say, I just wanted to run. Now I think it's all messed up, it's too late. There's nothing left to do. She probably hates me. But... I think I'm still in love with her.

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

omg that don fic was amazing!!!! could you write another smutty one please? 🥹🫶🏻

your wish is my command so I present to you nothing but Don and his lovely hands

Piano Man

Jack's Don Hume x reader

wc: 4,000

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: fingering, oral, riding Don, Don trying to be bossy, minors do not interact lest I have to water board you

Enjoy this garbage!

Don Hume always had gorgeous hands. They had elegant curves and dignified bones and moved so forcefully yet gracefully. And he was downright intentional in his every use of them. 

He always had immaculate technique when rowing, perfectly executing every twist and pull of the oar. He was a most excellent pianist and could play almost any piece he wanted. He had beautiful handwriting. If there was anything that had to do with hands, Don could do it. Better than most.

You know this to be true. 

Mostly because you felt them on you.

It happened the night of their first win. The boys dragged poor Don on stage and made him play. The simple then was too humble for him but he was nervous. Once it was over and he was allowed to leave the stage, he made a point of sitting on the same bench you were. By himself. Just a few feet away. 

“Congratulations on your big win, Don.” You scoot closer so he can hear you. His face drains of color. He’d always thought you pretty but that’s exactly what made him shy. Too shy to ever really make a move or even talk to you outside of your shared classes. 

“Th-thanks.” He stutters and jams two fingers between his throat and his collar, trying to swallow down the lump of nerves choking him.

“I had no idea you played the piano.” 

“Oh yeah, I uh…” 

You keep talking to him, and he keeps responding. The people on the dance floor become a blur in his peripheral and the music is a jumble of white noise. He doesn’t even notice the boys pointing and shouting excitedly at seeing Don talking. They would come looking for him eventually, thinking he was dancing with you in a secluded corner, but by that time Don would be long gone.

Walking you home had turned into a kiss on the cheek to the full enclosure of lips. He was so dizzy. So unable to comprehend the earnestness in the kiss until you grabbed the lapels of his suit coat and pressed him to the door. “Maybe you should come inside?” Your whisper against his lips makes his vision spin. He’s half worried he’ll pass out on you but that doesn’t stop his eager nod. 

Your hand closes around the brass doorknob and you twist. Don is met with the sensation of falling. But he’s weightless; he hardly feels the stumble and scuff of his shoes. The door closes and locks and it’s just you and Don away from prying eyes. Something happens that Don cannot explain. His initial shyness dissipates; and he finds himself tugging you onto his lap when you collapse onto the bed. 

Your dress skirt, soft as silk over his rough knuckles, sweeps up your thighs as he wanders. He distracts you with kisses as his fingertips brush the hem of your tights. They trail over and find the seam, tracing downwards towards the gusset. One of Don’s tentative fingers rubs over the gusset. There’s a slight dampness over the puffy labia and his fingertip lingers. Gentle swipes of the digit tease your slit; his touch is just light enough to map out the ridges and valleys of your core. He graduates to two fingers pushing through the growing wet patch. He enjoys the huffs and gasps against his lips, drinking them down to fuel his newfound confidence. 

You’re busy too. You undo his tie and fling it onto the nightstand. The buttons of his halfheartedly ironed shirt come next, exposing the scape of his alabaster skin. When your hands touch his bare chest, he flushes all the way down to his clavicles. Your touch is so cloud-light he’d miss it if he wasn’t so intensely absorbed in the moment. You break apart just so you can look down while you explore him. 

He thinks it’s the first time he’s ever been touched like this, by someone who has more care than greed. It’s not hasty or ravaging, the way some others had been before you. Where theirs was trying to get in and out of his pants, yours is trying breach something deeper than just his body. Don had never felt this before. This tingling in his muscles and nervous that resonated from the places your skin meets. How his heart hammers and blood rushes in his ears. He’s tempted to let you strip him down and take him apart like he’s done so many other nights. But he can’t. Tonight, cannot be those other nights because you are not those other women.

Don bunches up your dress in his fist and yanks it over your head. He takes note of the goosebumps rising on your skin from the kiss of the cold air and he brings you in closer. Hot breaths puff over your cheeks as he rubs over the gusset more seriously, fervently. 

“Don—”

His name passing through lips is like the call of a beloved memory, of a favorite song over the radio coming to life on a piano’s keys. He remembers hearing you say it for the first time when you met up in the library for a group project. “You’re Don, right?” That melodic “aw” was beautiful in your mouth. It became ingrained in the folds of his brain as he heard it again and again until that sound could pluck his heartstring when it rattled his ears.

And you had no fucking idea just how deep it ran. 

You’re pushing at his shirt now, wanting it off him so you could know more of him. He allows you this because it’s only fair. And also, because he’s addicted to the zap of connection. He calls your name back as he applies more pressure through his fingers. You’re dripping now and shifting uncomfortably in those tights. Time to get you out of them. 

Don slips his arms around you, bundling you up as he swaps your places and gracefully lays you down. He fixes a kiss to your lips as he works the tights down your thighs, over your knees, and off your ankles. His kiss slides from your lips to the underside of your jaw and begins to travel down your throat. He moves to slide a finger through your folds only to find a paper-thin strip of lace keeping him from you. 

He pulls away and stares down in shock. He hadn’t even noticed them. How had he not noticed them? They’re frilly and black and coordinate with your bra; you’ve put on a matching set just for him. You’d planned on bedding him long before he’d gotten the balls to kiss you. 

“Everything okay?” You ask, hips canting upwards. 

“Yeah, yeah—” he’s just speechless.  The longer he thinks about it, he realizes he’s always been the one to initiate things. He had never considered that someone would want him back enough to actually plan ahead. He’s never actually seen lingerie before, and he feels stupid and inexperienced for it. He should say something so that the silence doesn’t stretch for too long. “You might just be too pretty for—”

“Oh, don’t even start with that.” Your legs settle around his waist, “You don’t hear half the things people say about you, women in particular.” 

“They talk about me?”

“All the time. Usually about how cute you are. Or how strong you look. And sometimes, about these beautiful hands of yours.” You lift his hand and suck two of his fingers into your mouth. 

Don gapes at you. As you suckle at his digits, he absentmindedly makes a pass over your clit with his free hand. You gasp as he slips one fingertip under the lace and drags it through the sticky slick. As your mouth opens wider, he pushes his fingers further across the velvety expanse of your tongue, pressing down on at the back of your throat.

You don’t choke.

Good hell, you don’t even gag. His fingers are sunk to the third knuckles, and you hardly react save for your fluttering eyelids and belabored breaths. He’s hypnotized by the sucking sensation and flow of saliva and the scrubbing of tastebuds. He dreams of stuffing his painfully hard cock into your mouth and prays you’d be able to deep throat him even further. 

Shit, if he keeps going on like this in his head he’s going to cum in his pants.

Don musters up enough sense of mind to tug his fingers free of your drooling mouth. He takes your jaw into his wet grip and lays a vigorous kiss on your lips. Meanwhile, his other fingers trace your clenching entrance and tease the gushing hole. In that bleak, dead quietness of night he can hear it; he can hear the faint squelch of his finger pushing in and stretching you out. You whimper against his lips. Your sweaty palms ball up along the rise of his spine. 

After he’s done bruising your lips, he strips your drenched panties off and shuffles off the foot of your bed. He drags you down until your feet hang off the edge and your cunt is set before him. 

A real delicacy you are. 

Slick strings across your folds and clinging to your most pleasurable spots. One careful stroke parts your folds so he can put it in again, carving along your walls. Each careful push and pull of his finger ricochets from nerve to nerve like wildfire and leaves your chest heaving. He begins to meticulously unravel your stroke by stroke. 

Patient, he needs to be patient. He remembers spending hours and hours practicing the piano as a child and into his teen years. How that progress took so much time and patience. Sometimes he’d felt so frustrated he’d wanted to rip the pages out of his piano books, but he knew that wouldn’t make him a better player.

Similarly, rushing this night just to get an unsatisfying but instantly gratifying high won’t make him a better lover. At least, not the kind he wants to be. He recognizes that keeping you means showing you a good enough time that you want it from him again. That you need to be just as hooked on his every breath as he is on yours. 

“Want another—” 

Your airy cry rips him from his stupor. He registers the arousal dripping down the back of his hand from your pussy. His middle finger unfolds as his index finger withdraws. Two blunt fingertips greet your hole this time, wriggling past the initial tightness of your entrance and resuming his ginger pace. This is about building up, he reminds himself, his foreplay has to fulfill you but leave you desperate at the same time. 

While his fingers find a steady rhythm and pattern of thrusts, his tongue wanders out of his mouth and the very tip curiously tastes the wetness on your swollen clit. 

You choke, “Sh—it! DON!” feet scraping over the sheets as your knees come up. He’s sure he’s not giving you enough to cum but the way you react to each circle of his tongue around your clit makes him wonder if he underestimated your sensitivity. 

“Feel good?”

“So fucking good!”

This makes him grin, tongue retracting so he can place a loving kiss to your folds, “I’m glad but try to keep it down. I’d prefer to be the only one hearing you like this.” Then his tongue is back at its nagging swipes. You’re burning to the touch, pulsing against his splayed mouth, and glistening like a crystalized renaissance painting. You talk of his hands like they’re something magical and he wonders if they might just be with what they’re doing to you. It makes him proud. 

Don slows the thrust of his fingers to a maddening caress that grazes your walls like the edge of a feather. “What do you need?” Don mutters between licks. He’d tell you to beg because that’s what he really wants but he doesn’t know how far he can push you and he’d rather play it safe than sorry. Patience, care, and tact, he tells himself. Tonight must be handled delicately.

“Wan’ you.”

In a moment of ego Don breaks away with a wet pop, “I know, sweetheart, but you’re going to have to do a little better than that.”

You whine and nudge him with your ankle, but Don doesn’t budge. He simply returns to his shallow thrusts and slow, sloppy kisses. He figures you’ll give in and, “You said to be quiet.” You complain.

“Bullshi-that’s not what I meant!” In a way you’re not wrong but he did not expect attitude, “and complaining won’t get you anywhere.” He withdraws his fingers entirely, leaving his only his lips to soothe your burning skin. 

You chuff unhappily and thread your fingers through his hair, “Want you in me, Don, ‘ve been wanting it for a while.”

Finally. 

“Why didn’t you say so?” 

You’d love to get smart with him and slap the smirk off his lips but he’s undeniable cute in his smugness. It doesn’t help that you find his secretly darndest behavior very much attractive. You would have never guessed this about him; that he would be so authoritative when intimate when his mellow demeanor had blindsided you. 

Don dusts kisses up your tummy and breasts as he moves the both of you back up the bed. His knees dig into the mattress as he kneels, pulling you up to straddle him. Chest to chest, you wrap your arms around each other in a sweaty embrace. The bedframe rattles slightly and you can see the midnight sky out of your window now. You wonder when the dance ends and pray that it’s not soon so you can take your time with him. Or more likely, so he can take his sweet time with you. 

“We can stop if you want?” You must have been staring out the window for a moment too long because when you look back at Don, there’s concern filling his shadowed eyes. Nighttime is just as pretty on him as afternoon sun on his shoulders as he rows or the warm stage lights as he plays. He probably thought he overstepped. 

“You’re gorgeous, Don.” 

Even in the dim moonlight you can see his blush. The red blooms swallowing up his freckles and erasing his nervousness. “Where do you find the gall to be so blatant?” It’s a genuine question, he’s never been able to be so flatly open about what he thinks. He’s always marveled at the people who can 

 At some point he must have shed his pants because you realize that he’s bare beneath. A happy trail of dark downy hair winds down his navel. Then there’s his erection, where the rest of his body is pale as porcelain, his leaking cock is ruby red and glistening with a rivulet of precum streaming down the underside. 

He guides himself to your entrance and replaces his arm around your waist. “Tell me if you need a moment.” He his head tilts forward, forehead pressing against yours, eyes sweeping over your face.  He pushes his throbbing tip into your entrance and sucks in a huge breath. You both clutch each other tighter, fighting off moans as he works himself in. His eyes have fluttered closed and his jaw his clenched painfully. 

He bottoms out, thighs flush with yours, and sighs mightily as you relax around him. You cup his face to keep your foreheads together. He resolves that you must like this proximity then. That you like it enough kiss him hard and drain away his composure. Before he can lose too much, Don’s arms flex, his abbs tensing as he drags you up his cock and then drops you back onto it. Two strained cries echo off each other. He does it again, again, bouncing you on his lap. You grip his shoulders for better support; your nails digging into his sun-bitten skin. “Don, baby—” 

“Holy f-fuck!” His voice breaks into your mouth as he slots your lips together. Earlier he’d been drunk on the pulse of your cunt against his tongue but now that it’s surrounding him, he feels helpless. A ringing fills his ears, he squeezes his eyes shut, and his entire body clenches up as he slams you down harder. His hands splay over your waist and are probably bruising you but both of you are too absorbed. At some point you’re done kissing, but your lips stay brushing each other, open mouthed and utterly consumed in a mind-melting pleasure. 

Sweat trickles down Don’s face. His hair is a mess from your fingers raking through it and he’s flushed from the tip of his nose to his belly. While he’s on the border of knocking himself out, you find it in you to slip your hands off his shoulders, trusting his strength, and bring your uncoordinated fingers to his chest. Don practically screams when your fingertips graze his pert nipples. His back bows into you, pushing his chest into your hands. He nearly loses his balance. You pinch them, hard, and Don has no choice but to drop one hand to the mattress and lean away from you. In this position, you’ve got enough leverage to ride him yourself, bringing your hips down to meet his thrusts. And no matter how Don seems to squirm, he can’t escape your mean fingers. Then you’re bending down, and your lips wrap around the sensitive bud. 

Don is beside himself. What is he supposed to do? You drooling pussy is swallowing him every heartbeat and your tongue and lips are ravaging his chest. He feels a low pulsing deep in his stomach and knows he has to stop this now. The remaining hand on your waist travels up your spine and tangles in the roots of your hair. He pulls. Your lips pop off his chest and you peel away from him. He must not let tonight go like those other nights. He reminds himself.

“If I remember right, I’m supposed to be treating the lady.” Don sits back up which forces you to slow your pace, your balance off kilter now. 

“You were.” 

“Turn around.” There’s newfound resolve in Don’s eyes and you want to test it, but you can sense his restraint. He’s been playing nice for most of the night probably. “I’d rather not ask again.” You listen to the bite in his words and climb off him. Once you’re on your hands and knees, Don takes your hips in his hands. You feel his tip at your entrance again. He bottoms out in a single thrust this time and decides to show you a bit of the endurance he’s been able to pick up. 

You were right about him holding back earlier because now he’s truly fucking you. And he’s doing it just right, hard enough that your walls spasm and clench but not so hard that it hurts. He’s managing to tiptoe the border of pain and pleasure. His chest (still wet with your saliva) presses to your back as he adjusts himself. A hand has returned to your hair, guiding your head up and back so he has access to your throat. Briefly you wonder if all those girls who talked about his body and hands knew anything at all about his mouth. Maybe you’d keep it as a coveted secret. 

The sound of it all is absolutely ludicrous. His hips bruising your ass creating a sharp smacking sound. Occasionally the sound of his lips sucking at your neck. But worst of all are those moans he’d told you to keep to just his ears. You can’t help it. He’s efficiently fucked himself into your head well enough to keep you hooked on his every move and careless to the outside world. 

“All you wanna do is talk about how pretty I am but you forget yourself.”

Don’s voice has picked up a rasp. He may have incredible stamina, but his care is costing him. Each squeeze of your walls is bringing him closer to an edge he’s not ready for. He needs you to cum first which is why he had to abandon the softer sex because he’s too prone to the intimacy. He’d have been finished minutes ago if he hadn’t pulled you off him. 

“You’ve got no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to do this. How many times Bobby’s had to curse me out for letting me mind out of that boat, or how many times I miss lecture notes because I can’t take my eyes off you, or many damn times I fall asleep to thoughts of you and wake with cum in my pants. Fuck you! Fuck you for making me like this! What the hell!”

Then comes that victorious moment when he feels your whole body tense up. 

“You gonna cum? Gonna fuckin’ cum for me? That’s right! C’mon, let go. I’ve got you.”

Don let’s go of your hair and cradles you to his chest as he holds his pace steady. A shudder racks your body and you let out a strangled moan as the blinding hot heat washes over you. You go silent, drool pooling on your bedsheets, cum gushing as you squeeze the life out of him. Your head spins, body becoming light, it shocks you to the core.

“Baby! Baby!” Don pleads into your ear. He’s gonna cum, he swears it’s taking his everything not to. “Sweetheart!” 

You vaguely register him begging you for something, reaching a shaky hand to clutch his forearm. 

“Where do you want me?” He sounds like he’s going to cry. 

“Please!”

“—please!”

He doesn’t know what to do. He should probably pull out but then what. He doesn’t have enough time to think too hard. He jerks away and falls back on the bed. His rough hand, much less favorable to your gummy soft walls, strokes rapidly over his cock. He wails and grips himself too tight but then he’s cumming, hot spurts of white seed splattering on his torso. 

Both of you stay frozen in place, shaking from your orgasms. Don recovers enough to reach a now clumsy hand for your waist and roll you over. Your eyes a shut tight and you’re breathing hard. Your thighs quiver and close as the cold night air chills your body. He knows it’s probably time to leave. The party should be ending soon, and your roommates will be back. 

He soothes a hand over your thigh before getting up to open the windows. He cleans his cum off his stomach the best he can and then scoops you up into his arms. “Donny.” You curl into him, and it breaks Don’s heart. He really just wants to stay right here but he can’t.

“I know,” He strokes your hair and kisses your forehead. For the first time he feels truly satisfied. He feels loved and like this is how it’s meant to be. And it’s only reaffirmed when straighten up and kiss his balmy cheek.

“Promise me we’ll do this again.”

“Swear on my stroke seat.” Don murmurs, sharing a tender kiss with you.  He feels you smile and congratulates himself on the accomplishing his goal. “You need to get cleaned up. Your friends will probably be back soon.”

You sigh and slowly extract yourself from his arms. You open your wardrobe as Don redresses himself. “You really mean you’ll come back.” 

“Truthfully, I wasn’t intent on leaving at all, but these dorms—” he trails off. It’s a curse for everyone he supposes. Once he looks suitable for going out, Don hugs you one last time. His forehead rests on yours, a position he must like, and he gives you another soft kiss. “See you tomorrow in geology?” He asks, sweeping the hair out of your face. 

“Only if I can walk to class.” 

“C’mon now, you said you’d tell me if I went too hard.”

“It wasn’t too hard. It was perfect. You’re perfect. Now get out before anyone sees you.”

“By the way, I’ve got about an hour between geology and English, we should you know—”

“Out, Don.”

…

Masterlist

[glitterjay]

— AND LIFE STARTED SOUNDING LIKE A PIANO | LHS

﹒ꕀ﹑je te laisserai des mots

GENRE fluff, college au SYNOPSIS heeseung's life seemed to be a lot darker and more depressing than usual. after his previous girlfriend broke up with him, all he did was sit around and do nothing. if he could describe what was going on inside him, he would probably use the sound of crashing waves in the middle of the night to represent the disaster within him. but who would have thought he'd find comfort in a girl who was trying to learn how to play the piano? WARNINGS not proofread

it had become routine for you to spend time in the music room that housed a piano. it had always been your dream to learn how to play, and now that you had one within reach, you couldn't let the opportunity slip by.

no one was ever in that room unless there was a class going on, and no one really bothered to go in when they heard the instruments being used. it was perfect for a single girl to learn at her own pace.

heeseung, though, had lost any interest in instruments and singing. knowing he’d spend hours in front of that same piano last semester, writing or learning songs for his now ex-girlfriend made him sigh in frustration. sometimes relationships just don’t work, and he understood that. but damn did it hurt once it was over.

it was the weekend, which meant you could spend even more time trying to learn, "lights are on." It was a simple yet beautiful melody that could get you used to using both hands on the keyboard.

heeseung was just passing by at the time you started playing. wearing a simple, loose white t-shirt accompanied by gray sweatpants and slippers. if he was honest, he really didn't feel like going to sunghoon's dorm, but he knew he had to get out of his own at some point.

the melody had caught his attention for a second, and he shook it off. just as soon as he was about to turn the corner, he heard you smash all the keys at once—a sign of frustration he knew a little too well.

his body had stayed still for some reason, still listening to your attempts at getting the chords right. after the breakup, heeseung felt like all he could hear was static noise. sometimes it even felt like waves crashing over his ears, preventing any other type of sound from being heard.

but as soon as he heard the melody of the piano coming from the room, his point of view had changed a little. it was a nice sound that didn't make him feel like he was drowning.

once again, you hit all the keys at once, releasing a very loud sigh right afterward. heeseung walked back to the open door that was allowing him to hear everything. sunghoon and his friends could wait after all.

he stood there for quite a few minutes until you noticed his figure. it was then that you offered him a smile and a small wave. heeseung smiled back without even thinking about it and nodded in response.

"you play the piano?" he asked. simple and obvious question, but a great conversation starter.

"would you believe me if i say no?"

"no."

"then, i guess i do know how to play the piano."

he smiled and pointed at your hands resting on the keys. "press any of those," he said. you found his request quite strange, but you pressed one of the notes nonetheless. "see, you do know."

and without even noticing it, heeseung had spent the next couple of weeks helping you master the song you were learning. he would joke about why you didn’t pick an easier song like “married life,” and you’d simply tell him that you wanted to go above and beyond.

when he knew he'd be too busy to be with you, he would go to the music room at night and leave notes for you to follow the next day.

to you, it was a great way of interacting with new people outside your friend group, and it was nice to finally have someone with the same passion as you. on the other hand, heeseung felt like his life was starting to come back to him. It started to sound like the beautiful melody of the most expensive piano.

© glitterjay | tumblr

happy semi c comeback :]

[ihrtsevyn]

HOW TO GET THE GIRL: A LOVERS GUIDE

CHAPTER NINE: about jiwoo. (1.6k)

WARNINGS: angst, reader is referred to as woman.

◃ previous ep. ⊹ masterlist ⊹ next ▹

Weeks have gone by since you started tutoring Riki. To say you've started to like him more was a vast understatement. Once you dropped your "cold" act that lasted for a mere 3 sessions, You started to become accustomed to him.

Although you had gone many years without interacting with each other, it felt like the spark you had imagined between you two never left.

The both of you had grown comfortable with each other to the point you started to interact with each other outside of the usual library doors.

At first, it was embarrassing to have your name shouted at the other end of the hallway, however, it turned into a typical routine where instead of keeping your head down and speed-walking away from him to avoid lingering eyes, you'd wave back.

During these study sessions, you learned more and more about him. How he microwaves his strawberries, he has a dog named Bisco, he can play piano, and he has a large fear of bugs that you've sadly had to learn the hard way after he accidentally pushed you aside to run away from a nearby wasp.

Something else you learned about Niki was that his grades did not match up with his knowledge. Sure, he was inconsistent with his attendance and would rarely turn in classwork if any at all, but he was smart and an extremely fast learner.

It had gotten to the point where you'd just set a small bulk of his past-due assignments in front of him and study for your other classes until he finished.

The study sessions quickly turned into more of a hangout. Staying in the library together hours after completing whatever workload had stacked up over the week to share hushed laughter and talk about everything under the sun until the library had to close down for the night.

You'd even go as far as to call him your friend, and so would members of the Newspaper Club.

"You're in a rush." Lily offhandedly mentioned as she typed away on the school's computer. Her posture had straightened at the sound of you hastily packing away your belongings but her eyes refused to stray away from the screen.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I'm supposed to meet up with Riki." you answered before slinging the book bag over your shoulder.

"To do what exactly? It's a Friday and I thought you only tutored him on Sundays." J suddenly butted in, a playful yet accusatory tone to her voice as she suddenly invested herself in the conversation.

"I don't know actually, he asked to meet me at the school gates when our session ended."

"Oh? Is he walking you home? That's pretty cute." Yoon commented, a teasing smile growing on her face. "I don't know why he would, I mean— he's never done it before. So, I don't see why he'd want to do it now." You replied with fake unconcern.

You were being honest when you said you didn't know why Riki had suddenly made this decision to meet you at the school gate, but if it was to start walking you home on a frequent basis, you're 100% sure your knees would give out.

"Did you guys need any more help before I head out?" You suddenly questioned, trying to shift focus away from your last comment.

"Nope, we got it from here. Only thing we have left to do anyway is restock the printer paper." J assured with a small smile before hoisting herself up to sit on a desk.

"Okay, I'll see you guys later then." You quickly replied as you made your way towards the exit,

Lily only hummed in response to your statement before saying "Have fun, don't get into any trouble."

A smile crept onto your face as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at how much she sounded like a Mom sending her daughter off. "And text us when you make it back home!" Seeun responded, suddenly bordering out of the storage closet with a box filled to the brim with different bulks of paper.

"Okay, Moms, will do."

"About time." Riki groaned out, loud enough for your approaching figure to hear as you made your way into eye view. "Oh, shut up," you said as he pushed himself off of the gates.

"I feel like I've been waiting for forever." He whines as he follows behind your figure. "Yeah, right. Couldn't have been waiting that long since it looks like you went home to drop off your backpack." You pointed out, silently relishing in the feeling of freedom as you got farther and farther away from school grounds.

"I didn't feel like carrying that thing around all day. Plus, it'll be easier to carry yours." He stated nonchalantly.

He reached over to slip your bag off of your shoulders before flinging it across his own, his delicate fingers brushing over your own as he did so. But just as quick as his touch arrived, it was just as quick to leave.

His simple actions shouldn't ruffle you like they do, yet it still happens. You know that when Riki does things like this he never has an underlying intention which makes it all the more pathetic when you feel your stomach brim with butterflies the moment you make skin-to-skin contact with him.

You cleared your throat before wrapping your arms around your stomach, a meek attempt at trying to calm the raging storm of feelings that was happening inside of you.

"So, why did you want to walk me home all of a sudden?" You asked, shifting your gaze around the growing shrubbery to avoid looking in his direction.

"Oh, right. I wanted to ask you something." He shyly uttered, his free hand that wasn't holding your bag made its way to the back of his neck, nervously rubbing it as he looked down at his sneakers.

You glanced in his direction to see that whatever was on his mind had been weighing in on him for a while. "Yeah, what's up?" you asked softly before shifting your gaze forward.

"Um, you're friends with Jiwoo, right?" he asked, out of the corner of your eye you could see him turn towards you. Trying to gauge your reaction and see what you'd say.

It took a moment for the question to fully translate in your mind as if he was speaking a foreign language you had never heard before. Once it did register in your head you couldn't help the shock that overtook your body, nearly making you stumble over your feet.

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out, it was as if you were a fish out of water. Your mouth had suddenly gone dry and it felt as if you saw the fantasy of your TV romance crashing in front of your eyes. "Yeah, Jiwoo and I are really good friends." You finally managed to push out.

"Why do you ask?" You quickly follow up, your eyebrows unknowingly furrowing.

"I asked because I wanted to know if she was single." He replied, his tone went from nervousness to giddiness in a matter of seconds.

You couldn't turn towards him because you could hear the smile in his voice at the mere mention of her name. You were afraid that if you saw how he beamed at the thought of her that the butterflies that were swarming in your stomach just a few seconds earlier would escape onto the concrete in front of you.

"She's single," you affirmed with a stiff nod.

"Do you think you could set me up with her?" He immediately asked, a hopeful tone in his voice. Each word that came out of his mouth felt like a blow to the gut, killing off each butterfly one by one.

Your head shook 'no' before you could even form the words. "I-...I don't think I could."

"Oh, come on, please?" He suddenly pleaded, turning towards you once again. He wanted you to look at him, whether intentionally or not he knew that if you made eye contact with him you'd fall into his trap just like everyone else.

"Just get one of the basketball players to help. Or one of their cheerleader girlfriends." you tried to reason. "It's not the same," he muttered, tilting his head towards the sky, another whine threatening to come out of his mouth.

"Come on, you'd be the perfect wing-woman. you're good friends with her so it'd be easy and less weird when someone she barely knows tries to set her up with me," he argued, adding onto why he wanted you to set him up with her.

You bit your lip in contemplation. It felt like the obvious answer was 'NO!' but another part of you wanted to agree to set them up. You were happy with the relationship you and Riki had started to build together and you didn't want an elementary crush to get in the way of that.

There was always the lingering possibility that you and him were only ever meant to be friends and nothing more, and maybe, just maybe, Jiwoo was the one for him.

"What do I get out of this?" You quietly asked after the lingering silence.

"Anything you want. If you do this for me I promise I'll pay you back" He swiftly responded before stopping in his tracks, instinctively making you stop alongside him. "Please, just do this for me." He begged, his hands fidgeting with the rings on his fingers as he waited for your answer.

"Fine, I'll help you."

TAGLIST: @sakiimeo @sakuxxi @ilyjxdz @artstaeh @rosas-in-the-garden @k1ttylvr @stilesks @enhagvrl @yourssincerely-mimi @rizzanna-soda @saursoob @haechansbbg @nishislcve @winuvs @kyrojackson @suhiiiies-blog @rikisgeef @soobs-things @jumigurumino @ssukiyakii @baribaaari @eleanorheartschishiya @rikibun @seunghancore @wonik1ss @sheepgardenbahhhh @rksbae @lukesboo @moomis @luvvvash @conwunder @yvjw @bunnbam @eilidiii @riksaes

[rems-writing]

Not all fratboys are brainless

Pairing: frat boy!Yeosang × tutor gn!reader

Summary: Yeosang proves you wrong. Will he succeed?

Warning(s): lots of prejudice, Yeosang cries (Wooyoung would absolutely murder the reader if he could), the reader softens up, slight bullying

Genre: Angst with a fluffy ending

Nets: @blossomnet @mirohs-aurora-society @illusionnet

"Professor Kim, can I talk to you about my grade?" Yeosang asked his music theory professor. Hongjoong looked up at him and gave a small smile to the younger boy.

"Of course. But your grade is relatively good so far."

"I'm aware but I feel like I can do better you know. Music theory is hard and I want to excel in this class. I've tried studying the chords on piano and even tried looking for songs that I can listen to so I can identify the chords but so far, I've only been able to pinpoint what scale the song starts on."

Hongjoong listened carefully to Yeosang's explanation and nodded slowly as he thought of something.

"I could get you a tutor to help you get a better grip on the chords. They are an excellent student and is probably the topmost student in all of my music theory classes. They're currently studying for an exam in my level two advanced theory class but I'm sure they can help you out with something as simple as chord recognition."

"Thank you so much, professor!" Yeosang exclaimed gratefully and Hongjoong's heart swelled in adoration upon seeing his smile. As he watched his student gather his things and exit the classroom, he whipped out his phone and texted you.

Hongjoong sighed shakily as he sent her a heart as his message.

Joongie: Your prayers have been answered. You get to tutor a music theory student.

You: HELL YEAH, BOIIII! Which level are they at rn?

Joongie: Music Theory I

You: Easy peasy! What's their grade if I may ask? I know this class is hard >-<

Joongie: It's fairly decent but he feels he can do better.

You: Oof. Ik the feeling lol what does he need help with specifically?

Joongie: Chord recognition

You: Ahh! Ok got it. I can start tomorrow.

Joongie: Sounds good to me. Oh and Y/N? Please be nice...

You: Oh don't sweat it, Joongie! I got you

Yeosang had no idea what was in store for him......

---------------------------------------------------

Whatever excitement you felt the next day was flown out the window when you saw him. Your professor could've chosen anyone. But him? You only had three rules.

Never let anyone dictate your life.

Never give up no matter what

Never interact with frat boys or girls from sororities!

As you saw him set up his things, you felt a sense of dread wash over you. You thought of ways you could weasel your way out of this but Hongjoong would know immediately since you never weasel your way out of anything.

It's either you accept or deny. And you accepted.

With a heavy heart, you walked in, annoyance evident on your face. Yeosang was oblivious to it though. As soon as he saw you, his face lit up with excitement.

"Hi! You must be Y/N! I'm Kang -"

"Yeah yeah. Kang Yeosang. Yeah hi nice to meet you. Come on. Let's get this over with. I got an exam to study for."

The smile on Yeosang's face disappeared as you slammed your things on the table and opened up your music theory I textbook.

Throughout the entire study session, you did somewhat help him, but he didn't appreciate the fact that he was treated as if he were the dumbest person on the planet. You spoke purposefully slow, talked to him as if he were a child, and scolded him over useless shit. However, Yeosang remained patient.

After all, he knew of your intense hatred towards frat boys.

After the two hours were up, you didn't even bid him goodbye. You simply told him when the next session was and left immediately.

What did he do wrong...?

---------------------------------------------------

The rest of the study sessions persisted with the same old thing. You come in, treat him poorly, get angry when he messed up, and then leave as soon as the session was over. There were even times where you didn't even show up, claiming that you were busy. Maybe it was true most of the time, but there were times where it was complete and utter bullshit. Yeosang tried so hard to be patient with you, but even the kindest frat boy had his limits.

In the times that you didn't show up, he was studying on his own. His memorization may have been weak, but he was determined to get you to see beyond the boyish charms and stereotypes you had around him.

Today was another study session. Yeosang stood proud and tall as you walked in, grumpy as usual. You set your things down and looked at him.

"Come on. Let's get this over with." You sighed heavily and Yeosang shook his head.

"Quiz me."

"Um... come again?"

"You heard me. Quiz me!"

You sighed and nodded before taking your mini piano out of your bag and setting it down on top of the table. You turned it on and configured it so it was loud enough for him to hear yet quiet enough so you guys weren't kicked out of the library. You positioned your hands in the right playing position and looked up at him with a bored expression.

"Ok. Let's do it."

Yeosang was determined.

The first chord was played.

"That is a C Major triad."

The second chord was played.

"That's an e minor triad."

The third chord was played."

"That's an A Major traid."

The fourth chord was played.

"That's a first inversion g minor triad."

The fifth chord was played.

"That's a second inversion F Major triad."

Throughout the entire time, Yeosang was getting every single chord right. Deep down, you were thoroughly impressed with his knowledge and the way he recognized the chords immediately. As the final chord was played, Yeosang gave the correct answer. You lifted your hands from the piano and stood up before him.

"I have to say. I'm impressed. You certainly have studied your ass off."

Yeosang felt a sense of relief and accomplishment wash over him. However, that feeling went away when you said something ludicrous.

"Wait never mind. You're a frat boy. You probably cheated."

Yeosang was looking for any sign that you were joking. There wasn't. You just stood there with your arms crossed as you looked him up and down.

"You can admit it. It's fine. I can't necessarily say I'm surprised though since all you care about is partying, sleeping with every girl on campus, and -"

"How could you?"

You grew confused as you saw the raw emotion on Yeosang's face. His eyes were swimming in unshed tears, his fists were clenched, and his body was shaking a bit. You dropped your arms to the side as he scoffed harshly.

"For weeks, I have been studying and quizzing myself, pulling all nighters, and even isolated myself from my friends so I could impress you and change your views on me. It looks like I failed... and I'm sorry for failing you. I'm also sorry for wasting your time."

With that, he gathered his things and ran out of the library while you stood there, confusion being replaced with shock and guilt. You felt your chest tighten upon imagining him crying as he ran back to his dorm.

Why does seeing an angel cry feel like the biggest sin?

---------------------------------------------------

The next few weeks have been awkward to say the least. You were in Professor Kim's class, trying so hard to concentrate on his lectures, yet your mind was somewhere else. Ever since that day in the library, you've had occasional nightmares pop up in your head. It was of the same thing: you accuse him of cheating and you stand with an inflated ego while he runs out crying. You thought you were being a hero.

You were actually the villain. And you accepted that fact.

After class ended, you stayed behind so you could talk to Hongjoong. When the room was nearly empty, you approached him slowly.

"Um...professor?"

"Oh? On that professional status I see." Hongjoong joked with you but when he saw the worn out look on your face, he grew concerned. He pointed to the chair in front of him and you sat down.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"I think... I think I fucked up."

"You haven't even taken the exam yet -"

"I made my student cry."

Hongjoong was silent as you looked at him with your own eyes swimming in unshed tears. He gently took your hands in his and prompted you to look at him.

"What did you do?"

Despite the gentle tone in his voice, you could tell he was disappointed in you. He explicitly told you to be nice and you went against that.

"I accused Yeosang of cheating when I quizzed him and he got all the answers right."

Hongjoong dropped your hands and rubbed his face out of agitation.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"It was an accident! I let it slip out -"

"Yeosang is one of the kindest and most intelligent students out there. Your hatred towards frat boys needs to cease."

"Yes I understand that -"

"Do you?"

You flinched when he said that through gritted teeth. You hung your head in shame as he kept talking.

"To have you, my best student, accuse him of cheating... that's low. So fucking low."

"Hongjoong, I know -"

"You need to apologize to him."

"I am aware of that but -"

"But what? Hmm? Don't give me any excuse whatsoever. I know you're studying your ass off for my exam, your parents are out of town, and you don't have any pets or plants to take care of. So tell me. What's stopping you from apologizing to him?"

"I'm afraid!"

You hung your head in shame once more and let all the tears out.

"I'm afraid that he'll just spew so much hatred towards me. Not saying that I don't deserve it, but having someone like him be angry towards me feels like I'm going through hell. I saw his face that day. And I even have nightmares about it! Trust me. You think you're disappointed in me? Well the feeling is mutual in a sense."

Hongjoong listened to you despite feeling anger towards you.

"I already faced my punishment. Yunho stuffed fake spiders in my locker so my arachnophobia was triggered, Mingi towered over me and trashed all my papers for my other classes, San shoved me to the ground which explains my scraped knees, and Wooyoung... oh God."

Hongjoong had to hold you to stop yourself from shaking. His anger was slowly fading as you recounted everything that happened to you and felt his chest tighten when you just took it in stride rather than stand up for yourself.

"He was vile. He cussed me out, pulled my hair, and told me that maybe frat boys can be brainless, but they're not heartless monsters such as myself."

"Oh, Y/N..."

"He's right. He's definitely right. But it still hurts. And you want to know the worst part?"

"What is it?"

You drew in a shaky breath and exhaled before speaking.

"Yeosang was a witness to it all... and he still made sure they didn't do anything else drastic."

You started crying and Hongjoong held you close.

"I tried thanking him and even worked up an apology, but he held a hand up towards me and stared at me dead in the eyes before walking away."

Hongjoong held your face and wiped your tears away.

"What did I tell you? I told you he was the kindest person I've ever met."

"I know, Joongie... I know. I feel awful."

"I think... you should try again. If his friends try to stop you, stand your ground and make sure you keep on insisting until you are able to see Yeosang."

"What if he doesn't want to see me?"

"Trust me. If he was able to get his friends to back off of you, then he'd be willing to listen to your apology. Whether he accepts it or not, that's up to him. But just know that your apology is genuine and that you truly feel remorseful for your words."

You nodded as you listened to him and absorbed his words. Hugging him one last time, you gathered your things and sprinted out the classroom.

"Tell Seonghwa I said hi!"

Hongjoong chuckled lightly at your mention of his husband and looked down at his wedding ring.

"I hope Yeosang forgives them..."

---------------------------------------------------

You cringed at the way the ATZ frat house was littered with red solo cups, streamers, and random piles of puke. You almost fled the scene when a drunk guy landed on top of you and tried to hit on you yet you persevered. You finally spot the five guys and mentally gave yourself a pep talk before approaching them.

"Oh look! Here comes the witch!"

Wooyoung hissed at you and everyone cackled. Yeosang simply crossed his arms and stared at you. You winced at the insult.

Yeah you deserved that.

You composed yourself and tried so hard not to blow up on Wooyoung. You didn't need anymore bad blood with him or anyone else for that matter. You sighed shakily and stared right back at Yeosang.

"Yeosang, I'm aware that you don't want to talk to me and it's clear that your friends want me to go away as soon as I set foot in this place. However, I will only say this and then leave."

You looked up at the ceiling momentarily to blink away the tears that were about to spill from your eyes. You then looked back down at the boy who looked angelic even under the dimmest of lighting.

"I am so utterly fucking sorry for accusing you of cheating. It was wrong of me to do that. I never should've done that. Instead, I should've been proud of you for recognizing those chords right away. Music theory is a hard class and I admire your ambition to strive in being the best. I heard you passed one of your chapter exams and I just want to say congratulations. In addition, I also want to apologize for being so rude and brash with you from day one up until now. It's my own fault and I have already faced the consequences of my actions. If you're able to forgive me, I would be so happy! However, if you decide to join your friends in making me miserable... well that's fine. I deserve it after all."

You sniffled and looked at his friends momentarily since they were watching the exchange.

"I'll leave now. Um... enjoy your party on this fine Friday night. I'll probably head to the arcade to calm down. Yeah ok bye."

You scurried off before Yeosang had the chance to say anything, afraid he'll be worse than his friends.

Yeosang wished you stayed.

---------------------------------------------------

You went through every single game in the arcade, ate some takoyaki, and decompressed at the bar. You sipped on your moscow mule and sighed to yourself as you whipped out your phone to scroll through any memes your friends sent you.

"Excuse me? Is this seat taken?"

You whipped your head up to see Yeosang looking down at you with big curious brown eyes. You shook your head and Yeosang had a small grin on his face before sitting down next to you and ordering a glass of water.

"I could only chug so much beer in my life."

You giggled lightly at his response as you sipped on your drink some more.

"By the way, I forgive you."

Your eyes widened and your heart fluttered when he pulled you in for a hug. He was slightly taller than you so you felt his chin rest on your head.

"I was mad and debated on not forgiving you, but the moment that you congratulated me on passing my exam, it all washed away. I told my friends that I forgave you and being the simps they are, they send their apologies to you for doing all of that, especially Wooyoung."

"It's ok. I deserve it."

Yeosang pouted and shook his head before patting your own.

"Mind if I spend the rest of the night with you? I dig this arcade actually."

"Sure. I don't mind. But first."

You stuck out your hand.

"Hi. I'm Y/N. Pleased to meet you."

Yeosang took your hand in his and shook it.

"Pleased to meet you, Y/N! I'm Kang Yeosang."

[family-on-6]

Ok I seriously despise Porter. Especially now after the new episode, his interactions with Gorgug and Fig always felt a little ehhh but now it's just I have a blinding hatred for this motherfucker. How can you be a teacher, not just a fully grown adult but a TEACHER in a position of AUTHORITY AND INFLUENCE, and just straight up bully one of your students for what, not being angry enough? Having a kind and generous heart? Literally Porter has been Gorgug's teacher for two whole years now and we have heard him say maybe one nice thing to Gorgug. Almost every other time we see them interact, Porter is comparing Fig to Gorgug, who isn't even supposed to be taking barbarian classes, mind you, and basically telling Gorgug that his friend is a better barbarian than him to his face. He even encourages Fig to continue attending barbarian classes, when he KNOWS that isn't even her goddamn class! He has the common sense to know that she is suffering academically because she keeps going to barbarian classes but he keeps encouraging her and positively reinforcing that behavior, and Fig almost gets expelled from school because of it! Fucking WHAT IS UP WITH THAT??

And don't even get me STARTED on their conversation about the MCAT. Imagine having a teenager come up to you, a person they look up to and seek guidance from, and they tell you that they found something else that they excel at and are passionate about. What would you do in that scenario? I think most reasonable fucking people on the planet would encourage that young and impressionable TEENAGER to follow their heart, wouldn't you think? But no, Porter decides to refuse to let Gorgug take the MCAT, despite knowing for a fucking fact that he's capable because, I dunno, he's SAVED THE ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD MULTIPLE TIMES WITH HIS FRIENDS, WHO ARE ALSO TEENAGERS. And because of this Gorgug is forced to take on so much more work than he would've needed to if Porter just got his fucking head out of his ass and let Gorgug be an artificer without him needing to find a workaround.

So yeah Emily was right from the beginning and Porter is a total asshole. I hate him so much and every time he comes on screen I desperately want a baby grand piano to come crashing down on his big ass head. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[reggies-floatie]

Young Love- Derek Hale X Vampire!Reader

Summary: What if instead of Derek falling for Paige when he was younger, he fell for Y/N?

After Y/N randomly left Beacon Hills leaving a young teenage Derek Hale confused and frustrated, she finally returns after a few years, grown and the new history teacher of Scott and the rest of his pack.

Warning: pure filth, enemies to lovers to strangers to lovers again, switch Derek, a bit of angst and smut and fluff, oral male and female receiving, breast worship, and so on…

Enjoy my beautiful readers-

November 7th, 2004

Sitting alone in the music room, practicing my piano trying to focus I hear this bouncing? Fed up with it, I go out to see who’s making all this noise, the second I enter the hallway I make direct eye contact with the one and only, Derek Hale.

“You mind playing basketball somewhere else?” I say clearly agitated,

“Why would I do that?” The arrogant voice of the Hale boy rings against my ears.

“Because idiot, i’m trying to practice” I state through gritted teeth, my eyes glaring at the raven haired boys.

“ooh looks like we’ve got a feisty girl on our hands boys” he says grinning,

Not wanting to play into his games I roll my eyes and shut the door of the music room, praying that the music from the piano drowns out the idiotic boys in the hallway.

After that interaction, about a week later I’m sat at my usual lunch table with my friends Paige and Grace comparing our test answers for history when all of a sudden Paige looks up and smiles, she grabs Grace and quickly their off. Confused, I look up to see the Hale boy walking towards me, that same cocky grin on his face that he had earlier in the week.

“What do you want Hale.” I say rolling my eyes,

“Just wanted to say I think you look gorgeous today, Y/N”

I choke on my milk, “Sorry?” I ask my face heating up,

“You heard me, Cmon Y/N let’s go on a date” He says confidently,

“Yeah i’m good” I say confused but flattered, “is this some kinda sick joke?”

“Why would i be joking?” Derek says with raised eyebrows, I reluctantly agree on going on the date, little did I know what Id be getting myself into.

After our first date, we would use any excuse to see each other and by seeing eachother, I really mean going into empty classrooms and dark hallways to makeout with eachother until we lost our breath. We were whipped for eachother.

That is until my uncle Alaric called me, he sounded really worried, something was going on with his wife, my aunt and he thought i could help. I had no time to say goodbyes to anyone not Paige or Grace. Not even Derek. Little did I know, me going to Mystic Falls would lead to me becoming what my uncle was sacred of, what he hunted. A vampire.

September 8th, 2012

“Good morning class! My name is Ms. Y/L/N, I’ll be your new history teacher!” I happily speak out, “I hope to get to know each and everyone of you lot very well! I know you all probably don’t want to be here given history is the most boring subject” I say using my fingers as air quotations for the last part.

“But i hope you know i’m trying my very best to make this class enjoyable, I’m not one to give out homework, and i’ll always try to give you as much class time as i can to help you guys, so please if you’ve got any questions i’ll be more than happy to help you guys.” I say making eye contact with a boy with a buzz cut, i can tell he’s going to need help.

The year started our lovely, that is until this blonde girl, Erica, waked into class looking as confident as ever, it was a good look on her don’t get me wrong, but i could tell by her smell that she was a wear wolf. As the year started I could tell who was and wasn’t aware of the supernatural world. the people who I knew that know about it were, Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Stiles Stillinski, Erica Reyes, Issac Lahey, and Boyd. I’m sure some others knew but those were my main suspects. There was this one kid, Matt I knew he was up to something i just didn’t know what.

I was going to sub in for Mr. Harris as he randomly didn’t show up and the school didn’t have any substitutes that could come in last minute, so as any good teacher would I rushed over, as i walked in I heard Scott and Stiles whisper about how Derek Hale is trying to expand his pack. Hearing this I stiffened my back and coughed to get the student’s attention. I made direct eye contact with scott and with that, he knew that I knew about him and his friends.

Given that the class was the last of the day, when the bell rang i started writing notes for Mr.Harris when none other than the trouble duo came up to my desk, “Need help?” I ask not looking up from my paper at the two.

“you know about us.” Scott says, his heart rate rising, “are you a wolf too?” the boy with the buzz cut butts in,

“something like that.” I say finishing my notes, “what is it you were saying about derek hale?” I ask, standing up.

Me being impatient, I compelled the two boys into telling me everything they know, once they are done, we chat for a bit more before i’m off. I’m about to get in my car when I notice a tire in flat. I turn around as i’m greeted with Issac claws out pointed at me.

“Hello Mr. Lahey” I speak up, with a calm voice.

“What did something like that mean?” He asks, that sly fucker listened into my conversation with Scott and Stiles,

“Vampire, blood sucker, you know whatever they call us these days.” I say shrugging, “what’s it to you?” I ask the boy, when suddenly it clicks, he thinks i’m the Kanima,

“you sure?” he asks, “I need you to come with me”

“I’m your teacher Issac, me getting into your car would be highly inappropriate.” I know for a fact issac doesn’t care and he won’t leave till i do so with that i get into the passenger seat.

After a quiet drive and a few empty threats, we show up to a loft type place? slowly walking behind him we get a these big doors to which he opens, “Derek, I think we found our Kanima” issac says out loud to which i scoff. he can’t be serious.

“derek’s out right now with boyd but he’ll be back” Erica states, “Ms. Y/L/N?” she says confused as me and isaac walk in,

“Hey Erica” I say with a smile unbothered by the situation, “for reference i’m not the Kanima but i’m glad you guy’s thought of me” I say a smile plastered on my face.

“only. a kanima would say that” Issac says with a scoff, suddenly he cuts me with something normally i would care and it would heal, but i let out a scream, that little shit has vervain. I fall to the ground holding my wound.

What feels like two hours which is really ten minutes go by when Erica and Issac stand up at the opening door. In walks in boyd, with Derek Hale in all his glory,

Boyd is the first out of the two to notice me, “Ms. Y/L/N? holy shit are you ok?” he asks, the second my last names leaves his mouth derek looks up, there he is, the boy who i fell in love with then abandoned.

“don’t, she’s the kanima.” erica says her eyes glowing at me,

“If i was the kanima I don’t think vervain would take me down but here we are” i say, the veins under my eyes showing as well as my fangs,

“Y/N?” Derek says looking at me, “you three get out of here” he says looking at his pack members,

“but-“ is safe starts but is cut off,

“she’s not the Kanima.” he says his red eyes glowing at the three, and with that, they leave,

i try to muster the energy to move, or to even thank him but it’s cut short as a shooting feeling of pain hits me, causing me to scream, worried, derek runs over “how can i help you?” he asks looks at the wound,

“blood. i need blood and fire.” i says throwing my head back in pain, derek runs off and comes back with a blow torch and his claws out,

“her i got fire and you can use my blood” he says starting at his once girlfriend,

“fuck that, i’m not feeding off you, i’ll kill you” i say looking him in the eyes, but everyone knows derek hale is the most stubborn person ever. “it’s going to feel weird but when it gets too much tell me okay?” i say as he nods. with that i close my eyes as my fangs come out and i sink them into his neck, tasting the blood in my mouth sent a sense of euphoria to come over me, and i think him too as he lets out a sudden groan, after a little bit i pull back as i grab the torch and i burn the vervain out of me. the pains too much for me so i pass out, the world going black.

I wake up to the smell of coffee and the sun shining into the room, i’m on a mattress and i’m wearing a large shirt which i assume is derek’s, i groan and sit up only to meet the gorgeous green eyes i once yearned to see. “hey” i mutter weakly,

“where we’re you all this time?” derek says handing me a cup of coffee,

“I was with my uncle, in Mystic Falls, i became a vampire just a little while after i came there, that’s why i never came back i was scared that if you saw me like, we’ll you know, that you wouldn’t love me anymore.” i say looking down at the floor, “i was ashamed derek, and i feel so bad” i say finally meeting his gaze,

“how’d you die.” he asks, sadness in his voice,

“it was either me or my sister who had to die, so i took the step forward and here i am” I say a weak smile on my face. the rest of the day is spent with me and derek catching up, the things we missed, i never thought that seeing him and the conversation we had would lead to him, laying down on the mattress half naked, with me in top of him making out. hey, maybe old habits really do die hard.

I let out a small moan as his hands wrap around me and unclip my bra, “derek” i moan as one of his hands goes to my breast and the other goes into his mouth, i don’t think i’ve ever felt this good holy shit, his mouth moves from my boob to my neck, which leads to him flipping me over and removing my pants and underwear, his hand finds my clit as he plays with it, leaving little figure 8’s making me moan, the other hand goes to his pants and with one hand he pulls them off, he kissed my mouth, then my neck, then my breasts to my stomach then to my mound, my hands go straight to his hair as his skilled tongue draws patterns on my clit to my entrance, the feeling is so divine and i feel as if i’m about to come when he stops,

he draws a whine out of me, “calm down my girl, i want you to come around my cock” he says stroking his member.

i close my eyes as he enters me, and shock of pain and pleasure erupts through my body as he slowly starts moving. his pace gets rougher and rougher as we both start moaning louder and louder, I flip him over as i started riding him, pinning his hands above his head, i bite my lip and let my head fall against his chest as this new position is the one to send me over the edge, i feel my stomach start to tighten as i finally let my release go, clenching around derek

“oh fuck” i hear him slip out as he comes inside of me, completely emptying himself. I drop next to him as he holds me close, “stay with me this time?” he says staring into my eyes,

“of course” i say smiling.

later that day i changed into better clothes, i saw derek standing behind the kitchen island washing the counter, i walked over and kissed him.

as i pretended to drop something, he laughs it iff but it’s stuck in his throat as he feels my hand palm him, i pull down his sweats and start massaging him with a grin, “you dont need to.” he starts but i just smile as i take him in my mouth.

he lets out a moan as his hand goes behind my head pushing me further down his large cock, this man had to be atleast 9 inches, i continue to deepthroat him as i hear the door open, hearing that mixed with the voice of erica and issac only make me keep going i can tell derek is annoyed that they came here, but i know he’s happy that i’m continuing.

they walk into the room and start talking to him, i reach my hand to fondle his balls as he lets out a chocked growl and i feel something shoot down my throat, suddenly i hear issac stop talking, “oh shit derek” he says laughing as he realizes what happened, quickly he leave pulling erica behind him, her still being confused,

i stand up and kiss his lips, with a smirk, me coming back is going to be so fun.

Hey gang! sorry i haven’t posted in a while, i’ve has loads going on omfg. sorry if the words are wrong, not only am i on the phone but english isn’t my first language. i hope you enjoyed and make sure to send requests.

muah muah -Bailey

[lewkwoodnco]

Hii I wanted to request Anthony Lockwood×fem!reader with Invisible string, where they're neighbours for years, and used to play together as children. When Lucy joins the agency, she becomes friends with the reader, so the reader starts to be more around their house. Then Anthony starts interacting with her more, and they become friends, but Anthony realises his falling for her, so he starts to become awkward and shy around her she notices it and confronts him about it, then he confesses.

Invisible String - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: fluffy fluffy, though there is like the baaarest hint of angst which is kind of brief as long as you dont dwell on it too long + most of it gets resolved hehe and its made up for in the happy happy ending! yay!! personally i imagine the song she's humming at the piano to be invisible string heheh wc 5.4k

Lucy is waiting by their garden gate impatiently. They weren't running late for their job, but it was chilly out and she wanted to get in a cab before it got much colder. Lockwood walks out soon enough, holding a letter, but he walks to the fence rather than the gate. Over the fence, there's a girl pulling on her gloves as she walks towards her own gate, but Lockwood waves her over.

"What's this? Another lawsuit?"

"Not for me, at least. Our mail got mixed up again."

"Ah. Thanks."

They talk about their week for a while. Lucy watches Lockwood's polished exterior melt as his body language becomes more casual and fluid. The girl pockets the letter and the two of them look at each other for a while. He lamely gestures to her outfit.

"You look nice. Going on a date?"

"Yeah, with this guy in my pottery class."

"That sounds nice. Have fun."

"Thanks. You stay safe."

"I'll try."

Lucy walks over, looking at Lockwood meaningfully while he stiffens reflexively. "Who's your friend?"

"We're just neighbours." The girl smiles pleasantly, but Lucy doesn't miss the way he carefully watches her. They introduce themselves to each other. They chat a little, and Lucy picks up on her good-natured teasing of Lockwood appreciatively.

"So you must have known Lockwood for a while now, right?"

"Try ever since I was born. Our parents got on so well that we used to have dinner together every other day. And that was excluding brunch on the weekends. Trust me, I've had enough playdates with him to last a lifetime."

"Lockwood! You've never mentioned her, not even once."

"Well, to be fair, that was all years ago. We've been a little busy for the, um, last decade or so." There's a silence.

"Oh, there was that summer..."

"Yeah."

"Hmm."

"That had been nice."

An uncomfortable prickling accompanies the silence this time. She finishes fiddling with her gloves and looks ready to walk away, but Lucy recognises the suppressed look in Lockwood's eyes and tries to salvage the situation.

"You should come over sometime. We're doing some spring cleaning tomorrow, if you want to join."

"Luce. Let's not burden Y/N with chores."

"No, no, that sounds nice. I'd love to help. Though Lockwood never struck me as the spring-cleaning type."

"He's being coerced. We're holding his favourite rapier hostage."

Her lips twitch as she slices the envelope open. "Well, I wouldn't want to keep you from your job. Be careful. Mum sends her love." She says the last part more to Lockwood, who smiles with a warmth Lucy had seen little of. He watches her walk out, skimming the letter, and it isn't until George joins them that he looks away.

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Their case is so exhausting and Holly piles so much work on him the next morning that he forgets that she's coming over. It isn't even until the afternoon that he realises she's there at all, when looking for someone to help him rip the stitches off some old curtains. He walks into one of the spare rooms, calling out for George, but he stops short when he sees an unfamiliar figure standing on the bed, peeling posters off the wall. She glances behind and he suddenly remembers the events of last evening.

"Oh - Y/N. Hello. Have you seen the others lately?"

"Lucy went out to get another scraper and I think George went down to the Archives. Holly just left for the post office."

"Oh. I see. Er, do you need help?" She turns around from the poster she was steadily peeling off, dropping it into the pile with satisfaction.

"Nope, that was last of them. Anything I can help you with?"

He hesitates, and she picks up on it.

"Lockwood, I don't have anything to do until Lucy comes home anyway. I don't mind, really."

He relents and she agrees to help immediately, poising to step off the bed. She pauses before making the step, looking at the floor nervously.

"...need help getting down?"

"No. Just...give me a minute." She tries to hold onto the bed's headboard but still suffers from some internal struggle in stepping down. The image triggers a decade-old dormant memory in him, of the time she had slipped from the picnic tabletop in her garden and twisted her ankle. Instinctively, he holds out a hand, which she grabs thankfully and is down so quick he doesn't even realise until she pulls her hand away. The feel of her fully-grown hand in his is a jarring yank back to the present.

"Still so afraid of heights?"

She shudders. "My ankle still twinges if I so much as think of making a small leap. Now, where are those curtains?"

They decide to occupy the couch in the living room, and it's a bit of a tight squeeze with the piles of linens towering around them, but they manage.

"So you take the seam ripper, like so," Lockwood fumbles with the comically small seam ripper but somehow slots it under a tiny stitch, "and you rip the seam. Just like that."

She rips the stitch on her curtain with greater efficiency than him. He looks mildly startled. She glances at the pile of curtains next to her, and then the one next to Lockwood.

"Looks like I'll be done with my pile first."

There's a pause as Lockwood processes her words and the glimmer of competition in her eyes, and then they both leap into action, tugging down yards and yards of fabric, painstakingly unravelling the seams stitch by stitch. It doesn't take long for them to start playing dirty. She tries to block Lockwood's vision by flapping the dusty curtains at him and he tries to slow her down by holding her curtains down. But by the time the rest return, they're too engrossed to sabotage each other so that Lucy finds them sitting in some weird contorted manner, ripping seams feverishly.

"I was only gone two hours! Both of you've done all that?"

She tries to shush Lucy, already feeling herself slow down as she tries to free up enough mental capacity to answer. She feels rather than hears Lockwood giggle in delight as he picks up his pace. Lucy shakes her head, walking out to the kitchen.

"Find me when you're done, I'm having tea." She groans, heavily enticed by the suggestion of biscuits and sweet tea after an afternoon of stringing her fingers to bits.

"Wait, wait, truce please, I want tea."

Lockwood reluctantly lets up, stretching under the sea of curtains around them. They part ways for the evening, taking breaks or helping out with other smaller projects, but they reconvene after dinner, though with significantly less fervour.

An hour or two past midnight, once his neck had started to ache too much, he looks over at Y/N, and realises she's fast asleep. He moves to shake her awake, but she looks so peaceful and alarmingly similar to the little girl he remembered her as that it gives him pause. Lockwood wasn't one for sentimental doting, but it felt nice to have a piece of his long-forgotten childhood in his home again, safe and warm.

He makes a quiet phone call to her parents before fetching a blanket for her. That night, the childhood memories he falls asleep to are warm and happy.

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Lucy wakes up from her nap in a delightfully warm haze. The house is quiet, likely because of everyone staying up late the previous night. She shuffles to the kitchen, but pauses when she hears a curious sound echoing in the hallway. She blearily follows it to the living room, where she sees Y/N and Lockwood sitting opposite each other at the coffee table, playing poker. She seemed to be trying her best to stop giggling, yet failing, while Lockwood berated her.

"Your poker face sucks, Y/N. I know more about your cards than I do mine."

She shakes with silent laughter, covering her face with her cards ashamedly as Lockwood joins in with the laughing. It's a weirdly surreal sight to see. Everntually, Lockwood's eye drifts and he spots Lucy standing in the doorway.

"Luce. Have a good nap?" Lucy grumbles some incoherent reply, pulling a biscuit out of the biscuit tin. She sits down and watches them shriek at each other (Lockwood was right, her poker face was downright terrible) as they finish the game, and Lucy can't help but smile over the idiots.

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"Where's Y/N?"

The first words out of Lockwood's mouth the next morning were arguably his most poorly-chosen yet, especially without any buffer from the relentless mocking of Lucy and George. One of them alone was bad enough, but with both of them joining forces, it made for a very weary breakfast.

"Cool it, she's my friend. Get your own."

"Then what does that make us, if not friends?"

"Neighbours." Lucy smiles innocently as Lockwood throws a dish towel at her.

The rest of breakfast passes up uneventfully, which makes the incident the first thing out of Lucy's mouth as soon as she steps through the door.

"Morning!"

"Lockwood missed you at breakfast this morning."

"Did not."

Between Lucy's smirk and Lockwood sullenly hiding in the shadowed hallway, she wasn't sure what to start with.

"Did too, he so wanted you to be there."

Lucy turns to Lockwood, daring him to contradict her. Holly steps out of the kitchen, straightening her pinafore, but doesn't pick up on the tension so she just smiles. His eyes dart between the three of them and some part of his body decides that panic is the best reaction of choice.

"DEPRAC wants to steal my papers," he says as some odd form of explanation, before disappearing into his room. Lucy snorts while Holly and her share a puzzled look.

"I think he's talking about our case report."

Whatever it was, it was being tucked away into his coat when she ran into him at the front door about ten minutes later. His smile is part grimace.

"Sorry about earlier." He stops talking, but looks like he wants to say more, so she patiently hovers. "About breakfast - I just feel bad for doing all this free labour, breakfast is the least I could offer-"

"Don't sweat it, I'm fine."

"Well, I'd feel a lot better if you popped by for a bun every now and then."

Her lips twitch. "Maybe I will."

There's a concerned look in his eye and his gaze that lasts a little too long to be comfortable, and it reminds her of the last time he looked at her like that. It had been near the tail end of the summer a few years back, late at night. She had been crying something awful on her front porch after a certain Noah Lewis had dumped her, and he was neighbourly enough to play a good samaritan in talking her through it.

It had started with a lot of unrestrained swearing and dragging of Noah Lewis' name through the mud as soon as she walked through the front gate, the kind that made her father peer out the window in alarm and then disappear back into the house. After a good quarter of an hour of this, her rage faded along with her energy, and she ended up crying embarrassingly on Lockwood's shoulder. "That's it," she had sobbed into his soft, forest green sweater that smelled like clean cotton. "I'm done with dating. It's the single life for me from now on." What flimsy grip she had managed over her emotions started to slip once more, as she burst into a new set of wails.

"Oh God, I'm going to die alone!" Lockwood rubbed comforting circles on her back as she clutched him tighter.

Looking back, she understood the smile on his face a little better, though a part of her still wanted to stay peeved at him for laughing at her misery. At least he had the decency to cold-shoulder Noah when he came around a few days later.

The memory occupies the back of her mind for the rest of the day, and it's still there when Lockwood returns. She doesn't realise it, but it makes her soften around him, though not noticeably so. By then, they've cleared up enough of the house to uncover the piano tucked away in the basement. Holly had spent the afternoon lovingly tuning it and polishing it up, but no one else seemed much interested in it.

After dinner, she sees Lockwood sitting at the piano, watching the keys as if he's too afraid to touch them. She joins him at the bench, taking in the sight of the glossy keys she could barely hear being played from her room when she was a child. Maybe that's what she's thinking about when she asks him to play something for her, and he obliges.

He plays a short piece that isn't extremely elaborate by any means, but it's beautiful and makes her want to rest her head on his shoulder. When he finishes, there's a short silence, and she tells him it was beautiful. She feels him smile against her head. Her fingers meander over the keys and she plays the occasional note as she hums some tune tucked away in the recesses of her mind. He picks up on it after a while, playing a more complete accompaniment to her stilted humming. She tilts her head where it rests on his shoulder to look at his face, and his hand slips on the note. She wishes to stay there forever.

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"Hey."

"Hey."

"Hey." The last one was from Lucy, and it earned her a reproving glare and there was this silent yet intense communication between the girls. It's the next day, and now they've started on the library, sifting through the masses of newspapers dating well back into the past century. Lockwood had just returned from helping George at the archives (all the dust and cleaning was making his allergies act up so he wasn't at peak performance, as much as hated to admit it). She finally looks away from Lucy with the air of washing her hands of her, looking up at a forgotten Lockwood.

"Your coat collar's turned up."

"He does that to look cool. And because you're here. Dunno if you've noticed, Lockwood, but the coat hanger's by the door."

"Ha-ha. I'm leaving for Satchell's soon. Just...wanted to see how you were getting on."

"Wanted to see how Y/N was getting on."

"No, no." But his voice is a little too high-pitched to be fully convincing, and Lucy bursts out laughing, and his annoyance evaporates his nervousness. "Just making sure you haven't bullied her to tears, Luce."

"I've been such an angel."

She traces the outline of Lockwood's coat with her gaze fondly. "I remember the morning you bought it." She leans conspiratorially towards Lucy. "Preened in front of me for a good ten minutes, shifting his weight around to look cool. He only stopped when he heard my dad coming out to get the paper."

"That's awfully patient of you. George and I just try to suffocate him when he gets too unbearable."

"Are - are you hearing this? Admission of assault."

'Oh hush, you big baby."

She smiles as she watches them bicker. Lockwood clutches his chest with an exaggeratedly injured look, and their eyes briefly meet. He looks away first.

"What can I say? When you're stuck with this...peacock of a neighbour, you're bound to be forced into being an adoring audience on more than one occasion. Comes in and disrupts my peaceful mornings."

"Someone had to appreciate it, and you're always up at the crack of dawn."

"So are you, but you don't sleep so it doesn't count."

Lockwood lets out an uncharacteristic bark of laughter. Lucy's eyes look like they're about to fall out of her head.

"Sue me for wanting to share first thing I bought with my hard-earned money with someone."

She chokes on her breath, barely holding herself back from a fit of giggles. Lucy looks as though Christmas had come early.

"Lockwood had a job? Like, a proper one?"

"Well, I don't know if I'd call it a job so much as a cosplay of being working class. But yes, he manned a frozen yogurt cart in the park a few summers back. First and last time i've seen him willingly sit out in the sun."

"Oh, please, at least I didn't spend my days making eyes at Noah Lewis."

She shrugs in mock ignorance in a way that Lockwood can't help but match her smile. For a while the only sounds that could be heard were of the girls shifting through the newspaper with inky fingertips, until Lockwood finally gets up to leave for the client meeting.

It's an uneventful trip and consultation, but looks promising enough in terms of commission. It's tedious enough to make him peckish for a mid-morning snack. When he returns, he walks into the kitchen to sneak a biscuit and finds her fiddling near the stove.

"Oh, hi. Lucy and I wanted some tea but I'm not quite sure I know how your kettle works..."

He fiddles with the plug a little, twisting the wire in ways that make her concerned for his safety, but eventually they hear the kettle hum cheerfully, and they silently wait for the water to boil. She fidgets, trying to make small talk.

"How's George's room coming along?"

"I told him to pick out his favourite biohazards. The rest would have to go."

The kettle starts to crackle louder now. She eyes it apprehensively but Lockwood doesn't seem to even register it.

"House looks...pretty much the same."

"Yeah."

"I like it."

"Thank you. But I'm glad we're doing this. The spring cleaning, I mean. Sometimes I wonder if it's too crowded."

"I like it. I think it's crowded with life."

He gives her a soft smile and when he looks at her, he's not as quick to look away as before. But then he remembers her outing last evening and carefully broaches the subject. After all, it had been a while since they talked about things like this, and she was by no means obligated to, but he tried.

"How was your...date?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. It was alright. He's a nice guy. Patient. Down-to-earth Unlike someone I could mention."

Her teasing smile is back, and Lockwood feels as though a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. His features contract into a familiar melodramatic expression.

"I'm sorry I disrupted so many peaceful mornings."

A smile slides back onto his face as she scoffs and gives him a shove. "Very funny. You were plenty insufferable before your friends came along. You're lucky I wasn't as creative as them."

"Mm, so grateful."

More silence. "They seem nice, George and Lucy. I see why you spend so much time with them."

And not so much with me, she wanted to add, but she didn't want to cause unnecessary strife, so she just focused on keeping her tone light. But Lockwood still picked up on the subtle edge of bitternes.

"I thought you...moved on to other things in life. You don't stop to chat by the fence much anymore."

"You got so busy with your agency business. I didn't want to impose."

She glances at Lockwood's genuinely puzzled expression, his lips barely parted as she saw the cogs turning in his head, trying to reconcile the idea of their chats being an imposition. She feels awkward in a way she's never felt with him, even when it was just the fence in between the two of them. They went from close, to distant, to kind of close again for that one summer they were 16, and now...now she wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I...I didn't mean to."

"Yeah, well...you can say hi more often. Or bye. If you wanted to." It was stupid; she knew she was being childish but she couldn't help it. Something still smarted inside of her when she saw the three of them traipsing off most nights, something she didn't quite understand.

"I always want to."

"Lockwood? You better not be withholding tea."

They get startled by Lucy's voice and take a step back. Lockwood fumbles as he pulls off the top of the cottage-shaped container, scooping out piles of teabags. "Look, plenty of tea. All the tea. Please don't tell Lucy."

She shakes her head, bemused, pouring water into their mugs just as Lucy walks in, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at Lockwood. Luckily, she gets distracted quickly enough and starts dumping sugar into her mug. She watches Lucy for a while until Lockwood fold his jacket over his arm, brushing her shoulder as he walks past.

"Hm?"

He stops by the door to the kitchen, a familiar easy smile on his face. He looks like home.

"Bye."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Why do you call him Lockwood? Surely you knew him when he was 'Anthony,' or - or was it 'Big A'? Please tell me it was 'Big A.'"

She had started to become a regular visitor at the breakfast table, which meant more time for Lucy to spend interrogating her on everything and anything about Lockwood. Even George had joined in briefly; it was too good of an opportunity to pass up for an enigma like Lockwood. All the while, he anxiously flitted around, on guard to brush off anything too incriminating.

He carries the kettle away, mildly peeved. "I think that's enough tea for you, Luce." Lucy makes a face behind his back and the girls share a muffled laugh.

"Oh, he hasn't been Anthony for ages." She smiles briefly, but gives Lucy's hand an intentional squeeze, her eyes asking Lucy to not press it. She doesn't realise how Lockwood has suddenly become much more interested in the paper only because she too is avoiding eye contact.

She remembers it like it was yesterday. Her parents had done their best to help Lockwood, but there was only so much they could legally do (not that it stopped her mother from sniffing disapprovingly at every inept social worker that walked up the garden path). It had been after Jessica's funeral, and for once they were both on the same side of the fence: sitting on the steps to the porch. He was wearing a suit that was a bit too big for him, not unlike his daily attire now, and the smell of burnt rubber hung in the air.

"I don't think I want to be Anthony anymore."

It was a decision that never confused her, not even for a minute. Anyone would have needed a reconstruction of identity after going through such traumatic experiences at an age as young as his. Adjusting to the change had been surprisingly smooth too; he didn't look much like Anthony after that day either. But it was bone-deep agony to watch time drip by, like lazy honey, and only being able to hope that he was getting happier.

Lucy picks up on the hint and starts asking George about the rooms they need to tackle today. Meanwhile, she walks past the kitchen window, nearly bumping into Lockwood. They breathe a reflexive apology and laugh lightly. Her eyes land on the angry red cut on his forehead.

"How's the-?"

"Oh, it's fine. Just a scrape. I've had worse."

"Aw, you poor baby."

Lockwood laughs weakly as she gently tugs at the skin near the cut, which at least seemed to be better than the previous night. When looks away she notices the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. She frowns at the slightly ajar window, closing it firmly. There still was a chill in the air from the frost that hadn't completely melted away yet.

True to his word, Lockwood comes home with a broken wrist a few days later. George is rather miffed and Lockwood insists that he's making it sound worse than it actually was, but that doesn't stop her from wincing when George claims he heard the snap of his bone from the floor below. Despite Lucy's insistence that he had survived much worse, she can't help but fret over him a little.

"I can pour my soup myself, you know."

"Yes, yes, you're a big strong man who needs no help. Now go sit down, I'll bring your toast." It might have been more convincing if she hadn't been absent-mindedly muttering, or even without the pat on his head, but he still took his seat at the table, not entirely unhappy. George had managed to wrestle him into his bed in the afternoon and his body finally succumbed to the beckoning of sleep, making him sleep through dinner. It was just the two of them in the kitchen, one anxiously watching the other sip their soup.

"Really, you didn't need to do this. It's no trouble on my wrist."

"Lockwood, the doctor said not to put any pressure on it. It is, by definition, trouble on your wrist."

He sighs, frowning at how she worries her bottom lip. "You're not...doing this out of guilt, or something, are you?"

She opens her mouth to deny it, to say how preposterous such a suggestion is, but her protests die on her lips. She takes a shaky breath.

"I was thinking about the days after...you know. How exhausted and lonely you must have been. How I didn't care enough to visit you more, to even cross that fence, unless it was to come running to you with my own silly problems."

"Y/N," he looks like he wants to smile but is trying not to for the benefit of the situation, and it rubs salt in her wound. "Of course you cared. You were just a kid, acting like kids do."

"I yelled at you about Noah when I was 16. 16."

"And I appreciated it. You gave me something more normal to be mad about. You made me feel like a teenager again." He reaches out and covers her hand with his uninjured one. "And I don't ever want you feeling like any of your problems is too tiny or insignificant to bother me with. I'm your neighbour, what else am I good for?"

She gives him a watery smile, feeling the tension that had been bunching around her temples all afternoon start to dissolve. He always knew just what to say, the ointment to every wound and scratch. He made it easier to live, easier to breathe.

"Wait, where's Lockwood?"

"Going down to Arif's."

"With a broken wrist?"

"He still has his left hand!" Lucy calls after her, but she's too busy scrambling for a pair of mittens and hurrying to the front door. Luckily, she catches him just as he's about to head out, and a smile cracks open on his face when he sees her.

"Everything alright?"

"You forgot your mittens."

He eyes the patterned woollens in her hands. "Y/N. I haven't worn mittens since I was...six, maybe."

"Obviously, since that's about how long they've been collecting dust in your old coat - which, by the way, is in no shape for the Salvation Army. You didn't set it on fire, did you?"

"Look, when it comes to fires, I may have an affinity for them but not necessa-"

"Fine. Just wear the mittens."

"I'll only be a minute! What's the worst that could happen?"

"Oh, yes, because a cold is exactly what you need on top of a snapped wrist and cut." She holds the mittens out expectantly, and he reluctantly takes them. They spend a few awkward minutes trying to figure out how to get them on without his cast getting in the way, and Lockwood nearly drops them when he gets startled by the brush of her fingertips on his palm, until she decisively puts them on his hands herself. When she looks up, his ears are tinged red again, as well as his nose.

"See, you're already getting cold. Are you sure I can't go to Arif's for you?"

They hear a scoff from behind, and turn to see George watching them. She looks at him questioningly but he ambles past her to the kitchen, muttering words under his breath she couldn't quite understand. Lockwood takes advantage of the pause in her fussing and steps out before she can continue protesting, but the sight of the mittens securely pulled over his fingers gives her some relief.

George turns his snigger into a poorly concealed cough.

"What now?"

"If you keep kissing his scrapes better, he'll throw himself off a cliff one of these days."

"George." Lucy admonishes him while she tries to settle the awkard swooping sensation in her chest.

"It's true and you know it."

Lucy nods awkwardly at her. "I mean...he's got a point."

When she thinks about it, it makes her feel funny in a way she can't deicide.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that evening, she's sitting on her porch, brooding, when Lockwood leans over the fence.

"Home so soon?"

"Thought I'd come here for some quiet thinking."

He nods affably, his flyaway hair gleaming in the setting sun. "You left your cards in the living room."

"Come on over," she says unexpectedly, possessed by a sudden desire to be close to him. It surprises her as much as him, but as she watches him walk out of his own gate, and strangely walk into her gate, the foreign sight reassures her with a distant sense of familiarity. She had been on so many crazy misadventures, but they all led her back to the same place: in his arms. Maybe the universe had grown hoarse from yelling at her to open her eyes to what was right in front of her.

He sits down next to her and hands her the cards. She looks at the quiet face of Anthony hiding inside the sallow face in front of hers, and marvels at how the same time that put her through hell as a child had somewhat healed his wounds. She puts them to the side and links her fingers in his, resting her head on his shoulder as their breath misted in the chill.

"Remember that summer at the yogurt shop?" She feels him relax against her as he hums in agreement. "You looked so fresh in your teal shirt."

"I wondered what you were doing, sitting under that tree all day. Was it really just to watch Noah all day?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. It was a weird sort of year. I had this restlessness in me...this desire to sit outside in the world and wait for things to start happening to me. For someone to find me and for my life to begin." She shifts, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "Speaking of Noah...did you know he got married last year?"

"Someone wanted to marry Noah Lewis?"

"You say things like that as if I wasn't ready to have his children just two years ago."

"To be fair, you weren't the brightest two years ago."

"Anyway, they're expecting a child. Him and his wife. I even sent him a baby shower gift."

"A gift? What, TNT?"

She laughs into his shoulder, and she can feel him metaphorically swelling with pride. And when she stops laughing, there is nothing to distract her from the dull ache in her heart, the string that tugged at it as it desperately reached for Lockwood's. Lockwood, who invigorated her spirit and quelled her anxieties, who was the balmy breeze on a warm summer evening, who smelt of a pleasantly sharp soap. She stumbled and fell a million times with all the wrong people in all the wrong places, but now she felt as though she were being reeled home by the invisible string that permanently and irrevocably tied her to him.

She looks up at the sky, a thousand different shades of blue, purple and pink. The temperature continues to drop, but with Lockwood's arm wrapped around her after a particularly vicious gust of wind, she feels warm enough. She murmurs into his neck and feels the hair at the back of his neck stand against her lips.

"Isn't it just so pretty to think...all along there was some invisible string," she inhales, "tying you...to…me."