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temptaetions · 7 months

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angel eyes 🪽 b.cc (m)

a/n: the photo above is from stray kids' skz magic school shoot. i don’t own the media. i clearly got carried away writing this, because it's so long. however, i hope you guys enjoy it. obviously none of this is real...so does accuracy matter?

✩ spellbound secrets series m.list

✩ synopsis: you’ll think you’re in paradise, and one day you’ll find out he wears a disguise, don’t look too deep…

✩ genre: idiots to lovers | love epiphany au | teacher x student

✩ pairing: ??? b.cc x fem!compassion conjurer!reader

✩ word count: 21.6k | lowercase intended.

✩ rating: 18+. minors do not fucking interact.

✩ warning(s): quite a few time skips. minor character death, mentions of a car accident, semi descriptive. y/n has a scar across her body (not self inflicted, how it was inflicted is not described), both y/n and chan have unresolved issues with love, chan's kind of a dick in the beginning. swearing, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, brief mentions of blood, y/n has a medical episode, once more horribly written smut [between b.cc x reader: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!!), creampie, oral (f. receiving...he starts eating it thru the panties LOL), so much kissing, some (nude) grinding, missionary (because i'm an emotional bitch), light nipple play (clothed), crying during sex, multiple orgasms, reader begs a lot, some biting, light choking (m. receiving), a bit of alluding to sex as 'extra credit' and subtly feeding the professor x student power dynamic]. (more information about y/n: she glows, kind of like a glowstick, and she can float around instead of walking.)

✩ what to listen to: angel eyes - abba | the chain - fleetwood mac | bodyache - purity ache | if it isn't love - new edition | cherish the day - sade

tuesday – november 02.

it's slow, the fall. it feels like liebesträume.

feeling lost is an understatement.

he's been lost before - in grocery stores, not understanding assignments. shit, he's even been lost in the woods before. he knows what it's like to be lost, physically. he knows what it's like to not know what his emotions mean, either, so that also counts in his book.

but this? this feeling that he's just wandering the world? not knowing where his purpose lies, or what he's meant to be doing with said unrealized purpose? this is a feeling of damn near disorientation, isolation, off fucking course. it's all the same anyway. everything is the same, nearly everyday.

he wakes up, brushes his teeth. greets changbin and hyunjin at the table for breakfast, and gets ready for the day. goes to class, daydreams. he comes home, has lunch with jisung sometimes, and goes to the gym with changbin at seven-thirty. every few fridays, he'll go to one of the university baseball games, cheering on seungmin and jisung while sharing nachos with his ex-fling, sooyoung, and her best friend (who so happened to be seungmin's former girlfriend.) then, he's home again, he showers, he sleeps for a few hours.

every. single. day.

he gets bored, but reminds himself he needs to find peace in the routine. it's all he knows – he doesn't know what's keeping him here, but he's aware it's something. everyone knows it's something, but have no answers for him. he's sought after so many master sorcerers across all dimensions, begging to find an end to his equation, but to no avail.

he has no idea who he is, or what purpose he serves, and he pretends he's okay with it. he soothes by saying that not all can be known.

he pretends it's fine as he goes through his days, as he goes to class, as he talks to girls. he doesn't feel much of anything when he does these things, but the women he speaks to certainly do. they grin from ear to ear, like cheshire cats, when they get a moment to speak to the uncertainty that is bang chan.

but, it's fine. he's fine, it's really not a big deal.

he's in his last year of grad school, hoping to just bury himself in his studies to stop the feeling of impending doom. normally, you open up shop right after undergrad. you offer your services, barter for goods, sometimes get paid in a goat and two chickens instead of money. so many of his friends have already done so, relishing in the satisfaction that is being a sorcerer and mastering their craft.

what the fuck is he supposed to do? study until his fingers fall off and his brain becomes putty?

"i dunno, man. you could become a genius." jisung spoke around a mouthful of blueberries, and chan grimaced. "what? i'm bulking up!" shaking his head, chan closed his notebook. shoving it into his bookbag, he sighs. "i don't think i want to know everything there is to know, ji."

"doesn't knowing everything you need to know, start with knowing yourself?" minho teases from across the table, winking at jisung over his coffee cup. the younger boy nearly chokes, getting a whack across the back to aid in not seeing god. "don't flirt with him, he'll have an aneurysm." "hey!" jisung sputters, but the three of them know it's true. how jisung was the campus' playboy, no one would ever know. chan didn't even know if jisung could read when they first met. "you know it's true, ji. i gotta head out, i have a night class this semester with professor y/l/n, i finally got my schedule fixed. changbin is going to hate me because i'm going to miss the gym every tuesday and thursday." chan groans as he swings his bag over his shoulder, and the two men watch as he slides his headphones on, walking out of the library.

he's insufferable lately, and they don't know why. they assume he needs to kiss someone, preferably sooner rather than later.

"you think the poor guy knows what he's in for?" minho mumbles, closing his textbook. jisung shakes his head, popping another blueberry in his mouth. "i hear she's ruthless. i mean, if i was an anomalistic prodigy with gorgeous thighs like hers, i would be, too." "shut up, you can't even kill spiders."

your classroom is surprisingly cozy as he strolls in. the lights are dimmed, and there are blankets draped across many chairs. he looks around, spotting a green couch in the back. raising his eyebrows, he makes a beeline for it, hearing other people start to trickle in.

setting up his laptop on the table before him, he lets his eyes wander.

the walls are plastered with entomology posters, and he scrunches his nose as he sees a taxidermied praying mantis on your desk. he remembers what you said in your speech at your commencement ceremony – "the people of ancient greece and egypt saw the praying mantis as a guide. a guide for those who needed direction, and my god, have i needed it. life truly does go on and i am further amazed by how deeply it fills me with joy to stand here before you. the people of ancient greece and egypt saw the praying mantis as a guide, and i am so honored to be the mantis that prays for you."

you were the university's little treat, their trophy to parade. their only compassion conjurer and possessor of the will to practice benevolent magic. you cared of nothing more but to help those around you, you never said no. you never denied yourself to be utilized to find peace. he admired you, but not really. it was twisted, but he thinks you should…help yourself. he believes you should be selfish, at least once in a while.

he didn't really know you, but he hadn't expected to, either. you seemed like you were constantly on the go. you floated about, sort of like a ghost. your hands often clasped behind your back, a warm golden glow surrounding you. he'd heard from some people that they've seen it change color, but he never has.

but again, he didn't know you.

"chan!"

the voice whips him out of his thoughts, and he looks up to see yugyeom. he smiles, reaching his hand out for a dap from his oldest friend. "hey! how have you been? still on the baseball team?" "nah, i quit after i started dating doyeon. apparently, she has quite the track record with the team." he whistles, pulling out his laptop as he slides on the couch. "you quit the team for a girl?" chan questions, and yugyeom gives him a shy smile.

"she's not just any girl, chan. i think…she could be the one." he shrugs, a blush coating his cheeks as chan bumps his shoulder. "aww, that's so gross."

"shut up. what happened with you and sooyoung? did you guys break it off?" yugyeom takes a sip of his water, and chan nods as he sees more people walk in and take their seats. "yeah, we stopped fucking around. i wasn't as emotionally invested as she was, and i felt awful for it but we ended on good terms. i'm just not ready for a relationship and i should have made that clear. that was months ago, though, and we're fine." he shrugs, and feels an odd shiver down his spine. he shakes it off, continuing the casual conversation with yugyeom.

the door opens, and they both stop talking to look up. you're floating in gracefully, dark hair framing your face, a few scattered gold strands sprouting at the crown of your head. a bit like a halo, really. long, wine red nails reach for the light switch, dimming the lights even lower.

"good evening, everyone. eyes up front, please." your voice is softer than at your ceremony, but just as confident. you're looking around, your glow dimming lightly as your eyes stop in his direction. chan's eyes flicker to yugyeom, who is smiling at his phone, thumbs typing rapid fire. shaking his head, he looks up at you, your gaze on yugyeom. chan bumps his foot, and his head shoots up. your eyes are slightly amused, "you're paying for this class. i suggest you pay attention." "sorry." he slides his phone in his jacket, and chan bites back a laugh as he clicks his pen. smiling, you redirect your attention. "welcome to identity theory! i'm professor y/l/n, but you guys can call me y/n. you might already know me, as i'm the university's only compassion conjurer, and that is exactly why i'm teaching this class." you hold up the syllabus, and begin walking around to pass them out.

"this is an extension course to the one you took in undergrad, self-discovery 101. here, we are going to further delve into ourselves, and figure out who we are outside of our powers, or what purpose they serve. i like to focus on eudaimonic theory, but if you guys have any others you want to talk about, i'm open for discussion. i also want to apologize for starting the class so late in the year. i promise the workload isn't much, i was just having a hard time deciding if i wanted to teach this class. i wouldn't be doing much soul searching with you guys, i'm already the trophy wife of the administration."

he likes your voice. it's smooth, unwavering even as you apologize and joke, even as you let your feet touch the ground. he feels his chest grow hot as you graze everyone's table with your fingers, a soft chatter beginning amongst the students. he's not nervous, but you're very commanding. he likes the way you grab attention, despite it now seemingly about to be directed to someone in the room.

"your eyes are very pretty." you stop in front of him, and the class grows quiet. you look down at him, the soft light around you a little brighter. he feels his cheeks flush, as he nods in confusion. "do they glow brighter the more i make you nervous?" you tease, and he looks away.

"cute." you slide his syllabus in front of him, and he takes it with a soft thank you.

his eyes were the only thing that gave him that something that people always mentioned. they swirled, every now and again, the brown glowing slightly violet at their own will. nobody knew what it was, but it seemed to take your interest. you move forward with the lecture, not even attempting to hide the subtle boredom in your voice as you go over the syllabus.

"i will see you all on thursday! have a safe night!" you cheer, and the students seem to bask in your happiness as you let them out of the room. you float about, and catch chan at the tail end of the gaggle of students. "you, pretty eyes."

his headphones are in the way, and you place your hand on his arm. his skin is warm to the touch, and he jumps at the contact before turning around, sliding them off. "oh, i'm sorry. did you need me?" "i just wanted to say, i hope my teasing didn't make you uncomfortable. sometimes it just slips out." you smile, and you notice one..two dimples make their presence on his cheeks. "don't worry, it's alright. is that all?" "no, actually." you hold up his file, and he seems to know exactly what's coming. "i don't know my abilities, if that's what you're going to ask. and i won't answer any questions about my parents, that's also in there."

his eyes hold something heavy, and you notice your glow dim as he speaks. if he does, he doesn't mention it. "alright, then i guess that's it. i'm sorry if i disturbed some emotional blockage." your brows furrow lightly, and he raises his own.

"whatever." he mumbles, and slides his headphones back on. he walks away, and you feel your lips tug into a frown. you wonder what his problem is as you walk back into your classroom, sliding the file into your desk drawer.

"you try and make a classroom a home."

thursday – november 12.

from: [email protected]

hello, chan. this is professor y/l/n. i noticed you didn't show up to class last thursday, tuesday, or tonight.

i took it upon myself to look into your file again, with permission from the administration. i want to apologize for the sudden hot seat on tuesday after class, i was unaware of your situation and just wanted some insight. i can see how this made you uncomfortable, and i am sorry for causing said discomfort. i want you to be able to enjoy my class, and hopefully we can traverse that journey together.

that being said, i have come up with a new assignment for you, for the time being. since you don't really know what your specialties are, i can't grade based on performance or any papers delving into how they affect your life, personality, etc.

below is the rubric designed for this assignment. i spoke to the administration, and they're on board with this approach. if anything is too much, please don't hesitate to send me an email, or a text. my number is also below. have a good weekend!

signed,

y/n y/l/n

identity theory

spellbound institute of magic

psychology department

555-8212

he's been staring at this email for the last half hour. he even let hyunjin read over it, asking if he was seeing shit.

he'd skipped your class on thursday, and today. he didn't want to see you, so he avoided the psych hall altogether. he didn't really know how to feel as he switched tabs to the rubric you'd sent, essentially just saying you wanted an essay on how he's been coping with not being sure of his path in life.

how does he feel about it? does it bother him, and if he could pick, which abilities would he pick? his brain says the ability to never see you again, but his heart pangs as he rereads the postscript at the bottom of your email.

p.s. i am once again very sorry. i hope to see you in class on thursday, channie. - y/n

channie. ugh, his heart ached. he'd been so rude.

"you're thinking too hard." changbin sings from the living room, and chan sighs. "how would you know? you can't read minds." he rolls his eyes, shutting his laptop. changbin walks into the dining room, leaning over the back of a chair. "i know that look. the furrowed brows, the pout. you're thinking way too hard about this, and it was an honest mistake on your professor's part. you need to apologize, you grumpy bitch." "yeah, i don't really think it's a huge deal, either." hyunjin chimes in from the kitchen, and chan frowns. "you guys think i'm being overdramatic?" "i think your emotional repression is getting to you, you've been so insufferable lately. when's the last time you got laid?" hyunjin teases as he slides into a chair, and changbin wiggles his brows in agreement. "ugh, don't even." chan slumps his head against the wall. maybe seven months? he has a lot of pent up frustration. maybe not enough to write about his feelings and how annoyed it made him that you were digging into his life this early into him meeting you. what did you need to know, anyway? "isn't your professor that compassion conjurer paradigm? i heard the speech she gave at the convention last year, and i saw the photos. she's gorgeous, that glow around her all the time?" changbin whistles smoothly, and chan's stomach does a flip. he also saw the photos, but couldn't bring himself to think anything of them. he barely remembers watching your speech, too, but he certainly remembers the way your hips swayed as you walked off the stage.

he grimaces, feeling a bit gross at ogling you.

"she's fine." he shrugs, and changbin gives hyunjin a knowing look. "so, she's hot and you're into her. that's why she has you so worked up."

"i beg your finest fucking pardon, seo?" chan blinks, and hyunjin smirks. "then beg, channie. i'm sure professor y/l/n would like it if you did, she seems like the type. get on some dating apps, man. you need stress relief." chan scoffs, shoving his laptop into his backpack. "i'll be in my room, if you decide to stop talking about romancing my professor."

hyunjin and changbin snicker as chan storms off, his door slamming behind him as he flops onto his bed. sure, you were…okay. okay, you're hot. you're so fucking hot.

but, he doesn't like you. he doesn't like that you put him on the spot, and he doesn't like that you intended to ask so many personal questions right off the bat. he also doesn't like that his roommates are probably right – he probably is angry because he needs to get laid.

he groans into his pillow, fishing his phone out of his pocket. he unlocks it, opening the stupid app. "spellbound soulmates, how dumb." he mutters, unpausing his profile. he goes through it, updating photos and prompts. once he's satisfied, he goes to his deck.

left. left. left. left. right. right. left. left.

y/n, 26

compassion conjurer, benevolence magic

biography: sexy as fuck by day, sexy psych prof by night. everything you've heard is true.

interests: if your ass is phat, swipe right 🥵

his eyes widen, your smiling face staring back at him. scrolling through your profile, he sees mostly modest photos – you holding a tray of shots being the most scandalous. not a sliver of skin showing above your waist, but plenty of short skirts showing off your full thighs. you're smiling in every photo, but he can't think of anything except your lips parted, your thighs around his head. moaning his name.

alright, chris. he thinks. chill the fuck out.

he contemplates it for a bit, scrolling up and down your profile when he just shakes his head, closing the app and tossing his phone to the side. he flips onto his back, letting the pillow close around his ears.

he hates to admit it, because he doesn't know you. he doesn't dislike you, per say. but he's not very fond of your subtle insistence.

it's not necessarily your fault, but he really doesn't like talking about his family, especially his parents. only his friends know, and even then, it took all of four years to even bring it up. the fact that they're humans is a huge deal, and he can't risk their safety like that.

not to mention, admissions begged him to keep it a secret. they were toeing the line, chan being the third person in the university's history to have human parents. they knew about the world of magic, but didn't really have the abilities to take care of chan the way it was necessary.

so they didn't. they sent him to boarding school from a young age, and made it a point to frequently visit him. he sees them at least four times a year, but it's never enough time. he feels like he's missing a place to call home.

he feels so alone.

it's not your fault. and he knows he needs to apologize. he just has too much pride right now.

he hears a knock, and changbin opens the door. "hey, what are you doing? i'm going to the gym, want to come with?" chan sighs, before forcing himself out of bed.

tuesday – november 17.

he's sitting on your couch today.

legs spread, hair tucked under a cap. black, like the rest of his clothes. he looks relaxed, his fingers dancing across his laptop as yugyeom shows him something on his phone. he just nods, and you can't make out what his lips say.

you'd been feeling terrible about the events of last week, and hadn't gotten so much as an email from him. not about the assignment, not about how he clearly hates you, or even addressing your apology. you didn't understand him, but you don't know him, either.

the past three classes, you'd gotten to know your students. minnie, soyeon and shuhua were your favorite (and only) group, giggling in the corner over their laptops. they were all herbomancers, and you could tell simply based on how giggly they were. they chatted, and last thursday, shuhua was so high she just sat against her chair and stared into the abyss. you found it a little funny, when soyeon and minnie would have to drag her out of your class.

mingyu was a constant flirt, and you attributed it to his matchmaking expertise. he was one of the few cupidancers on campus, and you'd seen him about before. he had the ability to entrance people, to get them high off his attention, and you often saw girls with hearts in their eyes after speaking to him. it was quite the sight, to see someone emotionally orgasm. the fact that you were his professor didn't stop him from smiling at you, making suggestive comments, overall trying to weasel into your heart. you simply played his game, making him flustered.

yugyeom was too enthralled with his phone, and his girlfriend, to complete the assignments. the fact that minnie had slid eighty dollars his way told you his spirit weaving ways were some for the books – and so did minnie – as she rambled about a party at beta tau that past weekend. "you should come sometime, y/n. you'd get so wasted but it'd be so worth it."

you liked that they felt so at ease with you, speaking to you like you were nothing special. you liked being their age, being able to relate to the crazy parties and not worry about how you'd get home the morning after. you enjoyed the intimacy of the small class, but not the coldness surrounding who you would deem your most intriguing student.

he just sits there and he looks so nice. the slope of his neck, the way his fingers bounce on the keys of his laptop. the sheen of his lips from the cherry lip balm he applies three or four times over the two hours of your class. the way your hue almost changes from gold to pink from staring at him, and you know you catch some of their eyes as it tries.

"why do you glow, y/n?" you can hear minnie's hazy voice from the back of the room, and you feel yourself a bit dimmer than usual as you fight down the feelings of lust. "i actually don't know. the master sorcerers never told me, but i know it can be several different colors. care to ask me what they mean?" you wiggle your brows, and minnie giggles.

"pink means you're turned on, huh?" mingyu calls from his seat between shuhua and soyeon, earning a smack from both of them. you chuckle as he pouts, "what? i hooked up with a compassion conjurer last year in the second dimension, forgive me for assuming." "i thought you were bitchless, gyu? what a nice surprise, loverboy." shuhua teases, and mingyu just rolls his eyes. "well, he's not wrong."

their heads whip back to you, and you're purposely glowing gold. you're glad they don't make it weird, their eyes full of glee. "i know those sex flashbacks gotta be good, y/n." minnie giggles, and sighs dreamily. "i once got one in undergrad during the ochem final. i ran out of time and failed."

you laugh, floating closer to their table. "the colors mean a lot of things. i can also change them at will, if one isn't overpowering the other. the hues and brightness also amplify how i feel, which makes it really hard to hide any of my thoughts. for example," you pause, closing your eyes. you feel the warmth of blue overtake you, and hear a soft ooh.

opening your eyes, you give a quick spin. "blue means i'm sad, disappointed, or at ease. i rarely get this one, it usually happens when i'm with my closest friends and can act on impulse."

the quartet looks amazed as you continue to change colors, explaining them slowly.

green, for envy, and disgust. you also rarely turn this color, and it is amongst the most dim that you've ever been. pink, for lust. you say it's your favorite color, but not your favorite feeling. orange for anger, and you recall that you only turned this color when in your mother's presence, and that you hated this one. silver, for remembrance and emptiness, and they don't require an explanation as the light grows brighter, your face deepening in sadness before you shake your head.

you exhale, before letting the cold of indigo overtake you. they gasp, and you feel shivers rack your body before you can finally speak.

"this is the only one i don't understand. i can make it seem darker, too." you say calmly, eyeing the dimness of it. it glowed almost like a blacklight, and at your will, it turned a deep violet, lining your extremities in black pixels. "have you ever felt it before?" soyeon pops a piece of gum in her mouth, offering a piece to you. taking one gently, you shrug as you unwrap it.

"nope. this one feels cold, though. the others feel warmer, like a blanket. this is like, sub-zero temperatures." you slide the piece into your mouth, feeling your golden glow return as you speak. "that's so cool, though. thank you for sharing." shuhua is gazing at you, fondness riddled in her eyes. you feel your cheeks heat, as you smile.

"my pleasure. class is over in twenty minutes, so wrap up whatever it is you're doing and i might let you guys dip out early." you nod at them, floating in the direction of yugyeom and chan. looking up from your gum wrapper, you see chan looking at you intently, his eyes slightly swirling with that same violet glow from tuesday.

"hey, pretty eyes. so kind of you to grace us with your presence today." your teasing makes him grimace, a hint of annoyance flashing through his eyes. "paying for the class, might as well pay attention." he mutters, echoing the first words you said to yugyeom.

your brows furrow at his attitude, and you watch yugyeom slip away, beckoned by minnie with a piece of pink paper. chan glances at you, closing his laptop and shoving it in his bag with indignance. "why are you acting like this? i already apologized." you feel your glow flash orange, before feeling the soft tinge of blue creeping up your back. his eyes are still violet, but they've softened. "i'm just trying to help you, chan."

"i don't think you can help, when you're part of the problem." he mumbles, his gaze never moving from your eyes. you sense blue creeping up your neck, and succumb to it, letting it blaze. "how disappointing, for a teacher to try and aid you in finding your path of life." your annoyance is visible as you spin, directing your attention to the gaggle of students watching your interaction. soyeon's eyes are wide as you dismiss them, asking them to please let the door close instead of leaving it propped open.

the words aren't even out of your mouth when you hear the door slam, yugyeom pitiful eyes confirming your thoughts. they begin to stand up, heading for the door when yugyeom splits from them, circling back to you.

"don't worry about chan. he's being a dick, it's not your fault." he places a hand on your shoulder, and you give him a sad smile. "i know, yug. i know."

a soft squeeze to your shoulder and he's gone, you're alone in your room. you sigh deeply, letting the most overwhelming hue of all take over.

the same dark red you felt all those years ago, letting it overwhelm you entirely. you sink into your desk chair, letting the soft burn of grief sink into your skin. you can close your eyes and still see it, the wine color in front of you. the one that matches your nails, and on occasion, your lipstick. the one that makes you ache the most, and yearn for those who are no longer here.

you miss him.

just like you miss chan's wide eyes, not having heard the creak of the wooden door in your turmoil. he slips away.

— ☆ — — ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —

later that night, you're sitting in your bathtub, letting the hot water relax your muscles. you hear your phone ping, and you reach for it.

from: [email protected]

hello, professor y/l/n. i have read your email a few times since it was sent.

i accept your apology. i also accept this assignment, and will submit it as my final project grade, as per the rubric allows.

that being said, i will not be in class on thursday due to a prior commitment. feel free to email me back with any questions you may have, only those regarding the assignment will be answered.

signed,

bang christopher chan

spellbound institute of magic

general magic

you glare at the email, and let orange flicker like the light of your limoncello candle. you made no effort to question it, simply letting it slide. you send back an automated reply, sounds good! have a good weekend.

thursday – november 19.

chan hated meeting his parents in secret.

like it were a crime, to want to see them. he hated acting like it didn’t bother him that his siblings were growing up and he didn’t know them, he didn’t know what they liked, or what they did for fun. he felt so left out of everything, but still framed the photos they sent him. he still tucked their letters in a box for safe keeping, he still yearned to be loved by them.

not that they didn’t love him, but obviously it’s hard to do so from a distance. so they sit in the middle of the forest that surrounds the university, exactly 50 miles from all civilization. they sit there, for hours, and catch up.

“any luck yet?” his father peers at chan over a steaming plate of food, and he shakes his head. “no answers yet. if i don’t find out before the end of the semester, the master sorcerers said they’d figure something out.”

his mother sighs, her spoon stirring the canteen that held her warm coffee. "it'll be alright soon, channie. have you focused on other things? maybe find a nice girl to settle down with?" his father watches as chan visibly tenses, before pulling his wife close. "jagi, maybe that's for another time." she grimaces.

"i disagree. if he's having issues with other parts of his life, he needs to put it on the back burner for a second and figure out other parts. when you can't find a piece of a puzzle, you pick another part to focus on, do you not? the goal of life is to not let one bad thing, or one disappointing moment deter you from finding the answer to your qualms." she rolls her eyes, earning a smile from her husband.

"okay, she has a point." his father relents, and chan just shakes his head. "i'm not ready for a relationship.' "what about that girl, sooyoung?" his mother won't back down and he knows that. "moving on from my love life, i'm content. i'm fine with things, i have my friends, i have my studies. i'll get an answer eventually." he shrugs, trying not to let it show how much it gets to him.

"chan." she slides her arm across the picnic table, grasping his hand gently. "you're not happy. you can't possibly be, with all the turmoil you feel. you're like an angsty teenager who has never stepped outside his room." "yeah, well. life goes on." he mutters, and she feels her heart sink as he pulls his hand away, checking the time on his watch. "i think i'd better start heading back. i have an early day tomorrow." he's lying. they know it, but they begrudgingly allow him to bid them goodbye. they watch him

walk to his car, and flash his hi-beams as a final farewell before pulling off.

thursday - november 26.

it's been about a month since chan started taking your class.

and it's been about a month since he's been able to say a single word to you without the same tone of indignance on the tip of his tongue. seeing him look indifferent in the back of your classroom made it all the better, though, because at least now he was in class. he didn't speak to you unless you spoke to him first, but he was on time and attentive.

you liked something about him, but you didn't really know what. it's quite possible you just have a little lustful wishing for him, but it felt…weird. it felt strange, you could practically feel your skin on fire every time you glanced at him, catching his eyes every once in a while. he never held the gaze for longer than a few seconds.

as for his violet eyes, you hadn't seen them since. you saw him smile with yugyeom. you've heard him laugh, the sound so sweet to your ears. you hated that your glow was so evident when his giggle resounded in the classroom.

you thought nobody noticed, the students didn't treat you any differently than their own friends. soyeon, minnie and shuhua made it a point to start inviting you out to drinks, and mingyu flirted with you relentlessly. you simply took the interactions in stride, and smiled politely as you kept the lectures going.

but tonight? chan wasn't in class (again) so you didn't have anyone to fawn over. mingyu was front and center, and the girls gathered around him as they conspired amongst themselves. they weren't very secretive, and you could hear them giggling as you floated over.

"what's the joke? i want to laugh, too." you teased with a soft smile, and mingyu flashed you his pearly whites before turning his phone at you.

message from: doyeon

[9:03pm] hey mingyu! tell yug i'm waiting for him at the party, and bring the girls with you!

[9:04pm] see if you can convince your professor to come, too 👀 i've seen her and she's hot! maybe she can take eunwoo off our hands, i'm sick of him moping over jisoo

you chuckle, your glow brightening a bit. "you guys want me to go to a party, at a frat house, on a school night?" shuhua nods her head, a giggle falling from her lips. "c'mon, y/n! live a little, there's going to be so many cute boys there."

"yeah, y/n! plus, a little bird told me a certain purple eyed boy will be there." minnie wiggles her brows at you, and you smirk. "yeah? chan skipped my class for a party?" you glance at his empty spot on the couch, your glow dimming.

"c'mon, y/n. we all know you have the hots for him." mingyu says matter-of-factly, and you laugh. "i do not! he doesn't even speak in class, i don't know anything about him." you shrug, and mingyu smirks. "i've seen the way you look at him!" minnie chimes in, and you shake your head. "so what if you don't? he's hot and you're into that. he has nice muscles, i've seen him at the gym." mingyu sounds like he's trying to convince you, and you give him a smile before patting his shoulder. his cheeks tinge as you whisper, "are they as nice as yours?" soyeon teases mingyu as you float away, and their words stay with you as the class continues for another forty minutes. you type away at your desk as you bid them goodbye, but don't miss minnie sneaking away from her group to hand you a piece of pink paper.

"the address, in case you do want to see chan tonight." she slides it across the desk, a shy smile playing on her lips as she walks away. you glance at it, grimacing at the beta tau seal.

you sigh, pulling your phone to map the walk there from your apartment, receiving a text from your friend, jihyo.

message from: jihyo <3

[9:55pm] hey, you! come with me to a party, i want to scout for booty tonight 👀 i heard beta tau is having one

message to: jihyo <3

[9:57pm] funnily enough, i was about to text you, i got an invite. captain booty reporting for duty 🫡 wear something hot!

— ☆ — — ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —

the party was already in full swing when you and jihyo arrived, pinkies linked. it was apparently a student's birthday party, a short stop on the baseball team. you didn't keep up with the university's sports, but managed to snag a piece of birthday cake in a cup (meaning you dumped the rest of the pink whitney into your cup, and a splash of lemonade) as you let jihyo roam.

"y/n, you made it! you look so hot." you hear minnie from behind you, and you swirl to see her holding onto mingyu. "hey, guys! sick party, my friend jihyo also wanted to come." you shrug, taking a sip from your cup, and minnie gives you a knowing smile.

"hey, don't worry about it. lover boy hasn't kissed anyone since he's been here." minnie moves her head in the direction behind you, and you twist to see chan holding a red solo cup and talking to another student, short with wire rimmed glasses, and a waist you could only dream of. you turn back to minnie, who just winks at you before pulling mingyu away with her.

your body twists to look at chan, trailing your eyes down his figure. he's got on a white muscle tee, and mingyu had not been lying about his body at all. his chest donned what seems to be a rosary, nestled between his pecs that bounced lightly as he laughed. a sliver of his lower stomach was visible, mostly covered by a jacket he likely took off, but the red on the lapels looked good against his skin. silver hoops looped through his lobes and if you didn't sink your teeth into him soon, you were going to combust.

you don't have a crush on chan. not in the slightest. but, you're not blind.

you decided to worm your way to the bathroom, but you didn't realize his friend had spotted you staring. nor that chan's eyes were on you now, wondering what you were doing at a party on a school night, in that short black skirt and soft, flimsy blouse – with no bra. his eyes roll, asking himself why you manage to torture him this way. your coat is long, and covers most of your thighs as you walk away. he winces at the twitch of his cock against his pants.

"professor! what are you doing here!" you hear yugyeom shout from across the room, eliciting a woo from all the people at the party. you smile, and hold up your cup. "hey, yug!"

he waves you over, and you oblige, downing the rest of your drink. "here, try this! i made it." he holds up a long, brown bottle – and you smirk, letting him pour it into your mouth. a bunch of students are watching you down this burning liquor without a second thought, a low whistle emitting from one in particular.

tall, handsome. nicely chiseled face, hair slicked back. barely dressed. slutty.

not chan.

"who invited the trophy wife of the administration? that was hot as fuck." he leans on soyeon, who huffs and shoves him off. "shut up, san."

minnie screams before you can answer. "i invited her! she's cool as fuck, drinks up and tits out for professor y/l/n! wooo!" the crowd that had formed around you took their drinks, a few girls flashing their breasts at you. you let a laugh rip through you when you spot jihyo smiling at you in the crowd before knocking back the rest of her drink. you point to the hallway, signaling you're going to continue your way to a bathroom, before you suffocate on the smell of buchanan's and cheap beer.

the house gets quieter the deeper you go, aside from soft moans coming from a linen closet, obscene wet noises making you shiver as you turn left, finding a clean bathroom. you leave the door slightly ajar as you splash cool water on your cheeks. you let it drip through your lashes before you grab for the toilet roll, only to see someone slip into the bathroom in the mirror.

"hey." chan's voice is low as you pat the toilet paper on your face, and you glance at him. "hey. skipped my class for a party, huh?" "what are you doing here?" he doesn't sound upset, moreso amused. his eyes shamelessly rake up your legs, and you give a snort in reply. "minnie invited me, and my friend jihyo wanted to scope out some ass."

"yeah?" his eyes flicker to yours in the mirror, the violet swirl evident, and you feel your thighs clench in his gaze. your glow starts to change hues, and you roll your eyes as you glow pink instead of your normal yellow. "yeah. why, channie? are you here looking for babes?" you turn, letting the liquor talk as you lean against the sink.

"would it bother you if i was?" he tilts his head, sort of like a lost puppy. you smirk, shaking your head. "why would it bother me if my student wants to get some?" "do you always play this little game with your students, professor?" he takes a step closer, and you curse yourself for glowing a little brighter, but shrug as nonchalantly as you can. "beats being uptight like professor callaghan."

"god, you're so right." he chuckles, before his hands cage you in between his body and the sink. "i bet this glow thing gets really annoying, huh?" "you have no idea." you look up into his eyes, subconsciously tucking your bottom lip under your teeth. you wonder why he’s not questioning the color change, maybe he just knows, maybe he was listening last week. you wonder how many girls he’s gotten with, and how many he’s romanced with those angel eyes of his. "you look good." he says gently, almost as if he's giving you an out. almost as if, he's nervous.

"i taste good, too." you mumble, ghosting your lips over his. you can feel your skin start to singe, but you let him kiss you anyway. you let him lift you onto the sink, parting your legs to stand between them. you let him run his hands up your plush thighs, leaning into the kiss as deep as you can without completely absorbing him.

“can’t you get in trouble for this?” chan doesn’t really care, to be honest. you can tell he doesn’t as he drags his lips down your neck, his fingers tugging your skirt up gently. “hmm, no. not me, anyway. trophy wife of the administration privileges.”

he laughs against your skin, and you give him a cheeky smile as he kisses your lips again, his thumbs gently working circles into your hips. “i don’t want to do this here. let’s find a room, yeah?” "mmm, i don't think so. students who don't participate in class don't get extra credit." you pout, patting his chest when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

message from: jihyo <3

[11:47pm] saw you dip with cutie, so i cozied up to that mingyu guy

[11:48pm] going back to his, u can get home safe?

[11:49pm] i'll turn around if u can't. bros before hoes 💪🏻

message to: jihyo <3

[11:51pm] go ahead <3 txt me deets l8r he's a massive flirt lol

you slide it back into your pocket, and chan's hands leave your skin. he quietly moves your skirt back into place, and his eyes flicker to meet yours. he doesn't look upset at your rejection, moreso a bit grateful. "you're cute. you ask too many questions, and i'm still upset with you, but you're incredibly cute."

it's just the liquor talking. he won't remember any of this, or change his behavior by tuesday. he seems to hold grudges, but you know it's really just emotional blockage. nothing you can't help with, but everything he won't let you help with.

"maybe come to class and i might let you cum in me. you'd like that, wouldn't you?" you mumble against his lips, a shiver going through his spine. "let me walk you home." he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against yours. you feel your stomach flip, the gesture so cute you just might let him sleep with you. you capture his lips again, sliding your hand up his chest, fingers softly wrapped at the base of his neck. his hand catches your wrist, sliding it higher.

you give it a soft squeeze as you slither your tongue into his mouth, drawing a soft groan from him. he pulls back, your lips chasing after him as he raises an eyebrow. "who's needy now, huh?" "shut up, let's go." you place a peck to his cheek, and you force your glow back to gold, albeit dimmer than normal. he has his hand on the small of your back as you exit the bathroom. he slides it around your waist, his fingers softly digging into your hip before he stops dead in his tracks. "what?"

you're whispering as you follow his eyes, seeing a blond guy in a baseball jersey staring back at him as he sneaks out of the closet you passed. a girl is gripping his hand, floating behind him. the guy turns on his heels, quickly weaving his way through the people crowding the hall, the girl giving a hazy smile as he drags her through.

"in a closet? really?" he shakes his head, and you feel his hand squeeze your waist. "sorry." "no worries. could've been us if you showed up to class." you tease as he guides you through the crowd, and you spot minnie watching you sneak your way through the people. she wiggles her eyebrows, and you just shake your head as chan opens the front door, letting you out first as he grabs his jacket from his friend.

"shit, it's colder than a witch's tits out here." you chatter, and chan quickly joins you on the porch, sliding the jacket over his arms. "it really is. which way do you live?" the walk is quiet, besides the leaves crunching under your shoes. he's close enough that his cologne meets your nose, but not close enough to where you can touch him and not be overdoing it. the taste of his lips was not enough to satiate you.

"why are you so mean to me?" you ask, not daring to look at him. he hums in response, before grabbing your shoulders, swinging his arm over you. you instinctively wrap your own around his waist, your fingers brushing the same sliver of skin you'd eyed earlier that night. you're burning up against him, and he welcomes the heat as your hips bump.

"i'm normally not this uptight." he starts, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "i don't like answering questions about my personal life, much less my abilities. or lack thereof, rather. it was too soon when you asked, i'm still trying to figure myself out. i'm very lost in that area of my life, and if i don't find out soon, i'm not sure how i'll make a living. please don't think i'm only this way with you, i'm just feeling stuck. it's like i'm running out of time." you take in his words, nodding silently. you know your magic is taking over him as he speaks, because you feel your glow dimming more and more as you keep walking. "i don't know what that feels like, chan. i'm sorry, genuinely. i truly do want you to understand that i am here to help as much as i can, not just as a professor but as…a friend, i guess." "mmh, i don't think you can help." he squeezes your arm gently as you make a left turn. "i'm too far gone, i believe. i thought about what you said, the emotional blockage thing. and i know that you're using your fingers to seep your funky little magic into me so i talk about myself and get things moving for your peace of mind." his fingers pat yours lingering on his hip, and you sheepishly go to move them.

he holds them in place, as you guide him to the gate of your complex. "i don't mind talking to you, or answering your questions. i really, really admire you as a person and sorceress. the selflessness, you're one of the kindest people i've ever had the pleasure of meeting. you just have to give me some time to warm up to you."

he stops in front of the gate, letting you punch in the code before sliding his arm off your shoulders. "i want to apologize for my behavior. i know i've been increasingly bitchy and standoffish, i'm just stressed. i'm sorry, and i'm sorry for taking it out on you. i know you're just trying to help."

"won't you come in? it's rather late and i'd hate to have you walk back alone." your eyes are slightly pleading, and he raises a brow. "are you sure?"

you shrug, holding the gate open. he walks past you, not comfortable enough to slide his arm over you once more. he feels the warmth of you as you float past, and he follows quietly. unlocking the door, his eyes peer into your apartment, and it's just like your classroom.

the lights are dimmed, and your couch is the same velvety green. it smells like bambinella pear and bergamot, and your walls are littered with photos and articles. many of them penned by you, he notices, as he skims them. "feel at home?" you chuckle, and he hears the rustling of your coat as you slip it off.

"mhm, it smells nice in here." he nods as he continues observing articles, before bumping into your side table. he looks down and sees a newspaper from seven years ago, a smiling face staring back at him.

spellbound prodigy involved in an automobile accident puts the world of wizardry at risk.

he skims the paper, seeing your name repeated over and over again but yet, no mention of the person in the photo. no age, no name.

"oh, you found that?" you're behind him, and you take hold of the paper, letting it droop over your hands. "who is that?" you sigh, your fingernail tracing the man's face. "minhwi. he was my best friend from primary school until the summer of 2017. that's when the accident happened." setting the paper back down, you pat the picture before floating to the kitchen, your golden glow gone as it begins to turn dark red.

"it's grief, the hue." you wave your hand at yourself as chan leans against the island, his eyes softening as you pour water in a glass, sliding it to him. the color dims as you turn to him, sitting on the bar stool. "i know, you're wondering how i'm involved in the accident."

chan looks down, and you let out an airy chuckle. "god, i hate talking about this." you rub your thighs, before looking up. "he told me he was in love with someone, and i encouraged him to make the hour drive to see her. i even offered to tag along, even though it was into the human world."

you're nervous, and chan can feel it. he rounds the island, sliding onto the stool beside you. you twist to face him as he takes your hands in his. how cute, you think.

"there was a really bad thunderstorm, but minhwi literally used to race cars for money. rain or shine, he was an expert behind the wheel. he won so many, and i was there for almost all of them. he called me his biggest cheerleader." chan's thumb wipes at your face, and you hadn't even known you were crying. you feel your chest ache as his hand lingers, before dropping back to your lap. "lightning struck one of the oak trees lining the backway route into town. minhwi tried to swerve out of the way, and we wound up spinning out. the tree landed on the car, and the weight crushed us, and there was glass everywhere. he died on impact."

you sniffle, and chan's eyes are glossy as he clears his throat. "and you blame yourself?" "absolutely." nodding, you interlace your fingers with chan's. "and the fact that i survived and he didn't, it kills me inside. it's not like he would've been able to, he was a…" you trail off, and chan's eyes match yours in size.

"...he was human." he finished, and you can't look at him. "you exposed the world of magic and our practices, to a human." you stay silent, before his arms envelope you in a hug. the burn you feel is almost debilitating, but you feel blue crawling up your neck as he rubs your back softly. "i'm sorry for your loss, y/n."

"that's it?" you blurt, and he laughs against your neck like he did earlier. "yeah, it's not like i can judge you, and it's not like humans don't know we exist. we're just frowned upon, it's not a crime to involve yourself with them. love makes us do crazy things." he pulls back, and you let blue overtake you. "i'm genuinely sorry about your friend. he sounds like he was a great time." "he was. i haven't talked about him since. all i have left is the scars from the accident." you shrug, taking a sip of your water. "scars?"

you flash a smile at him, before shaking your head. "just know, if i ever do let you in my pants, the shirt stays on, not because i'm insecure but because i hate looking at them."

he nods, a shy look crossing his eyes before he closes them. "can i ask you for a favor? before you go to bed, i mean?" "sure, anything." you tuck your hair behind your ears, sitting up. "that emotional blockage you spoke about, you can…remove that, right? i'm not too sure what your powers are." he mumbles as he picks at his nails, and you smile. "i can. would you like me to do that for you?" his eyes look to yours, and you see fear flash through them. "it doesn't hurt, channie. come on, i can do it right now." you slide off the stool, holding your hand out to him. he takes your hand, but instead of following you, he pulls you towards him.

your chest is flush to his, and you see a subtle blush on his cheeks as he dips his head, lips brushing against yours. you relax in his hold, letting your lips mold against his. you can't feel anything but heat and his tongue teasing yours, but it's no big deal (you're trying to convince yourself at this point.) his hands move to hold your face, his fingers burning your skin when he pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours.

"not tonight, i don't think i'm ready." he whispers against your lips, and you open your eyes to look into his hazy ones. nodding, you press another chaste kiss on his mouth. "whenever you're ready, channie. i'll be here."

"i'll take the couch." he plants one last kiss on your forehead, and you nod. "if you insist. goodnight, channie." "goodnight, y/n." he watches your glowing form trail down the hall, likely towards your bedroom.

and he sees a hint of indigo spreading across your back as you shut the door behind you.

tuesday – december 15.

chan is a lot nicer as the next two weeks go by. still shows up to class, even early, since your escapade after the party. he finds himself staring at you more often than not, and you're not the only one who notices.

minnie often slips you knowing looks, and you find yourself growing shy as you look to see chan peeking at you over his laptop, eyes glowing that bright violet you've come to adore.

"alright, everybody. have a good weekend!" you smile cheerfully as they file out, your glow now bright blue. the girls had mentioned you looked much more relaxed these days, and you attributed it to 'more sleep.'

you didn't really know what it was. you'd woken up glowing indigo the day after the party, and almost everyday after that. you flickered indigo when you caught chan in the hallway before class on tuesday, and when he hung back a little too long on thursday. really, if you even glanced at chan, you'd flash the dark color and leave the students rubbing at their eyes.

chan, on the other hand, was constantly looking for ways to talk to you.

he saw the flustered flickering, the confusion of your body as it glitched from hue to hue. at one point you had splotches of indigo, pink and your natural gold all over you. you still flirted back at mingyu's advances, albeit he calmed down noticeably. he observed that mingyu was on his phone more often, and you later found out through minnie that he was utterly romanced by jihyo. you thought it funny, and teased him about it (and jihyo, the next time you saw her for coffee and pastries.)

"hey, can we talk?" chan is standing behind you as you wave off your students, and you jump at the closeness. "sure, channie. what's up? is this about your final project?"

it wasn't an unreasonable question. the semester was coming to an end, the students looked visibly stressed and you hadn't heard of any parties since.

but, you knew it was unreasonable for your situation with chan. you never missed his longing glances at your lips, or the fact that he was early to class. his friends changbin and jisung often trailed behind him as he walked to class, and he only introduced you to them because they wouldn't stop badgering him at the doorway. "she's even prettier up close," jisung had said dreamily, and you just gave him a soft smile as you watched him bump into the doorframe.

"not really? maybe." he rubs his neck, and you tilt your head. "what's going on?"

"uh, i think i'm ready. for what we talked about…the night of the party." he swallows thickly, and you feel taken aback. "oh? what brought this on?" you float to the back, patting the same couch he sits in during class. you tuck your legs under you, holding your head up with the wall. his knees brush yours as he sits, and you wince at the heat you feel in your chest.

"i started the essay you assigned last night." he can't look at you, and you find your stomach to grow increasingly tight. "yeah?" "i can't write anything. i have six drafts already, and i feel so overwhelmed." he's nibbling on his lip, almost as though not to cry. you lean closer, his eyes glassy as they meet yours. frowning, your hand finds home on his jaw, your thumb wiping a few fallen tears. "i'm here, i can help. we can do it here."

you get up, moving the tables back towards the walls. he watches you as you move, and your back is splotched with indigo. he still doesn't know what it means, but you shiver as it creeps up your neck. your hand flies to your nape, rubbing your skin. it dissipates, returning to your golden glow.

"need an open space. are you sure?" you motion for him to join you in the center of the room, and he nods. you can already feel the same heat on your skin as he settles in front of you, and the same eerie cold of indigo on your shoulders. you huff, sliding your cardigan onto the floor and rolling up your sleeves. "i have to touch your skin for this, okay? and don't worry about anything else, just keep your eyes on me." he's nervous as he lets you take his shaky hands, a soft pout on your lips as you close your eyes. "i got you, okay? i won't let anything hurt you, you're strong." you're muttering, but he finds comfort in your words. he's sure you say this to everybody.

until you start glowing a blinding blaze of indigo, your face scrunched, wincing as the room cools significantly. you're brighter than he's ever seen, possibly brighter than the fluorescent lights that line the university halls. your grimace grows as you furrow your brows deeply, the glow around you seemingly like a flame. he just watches silently as you drop one of his hands.

"can you lift your shirt for me?" your voice is strangled. your eyes are screwed shut, and he quickly does so, your hand trembling as it makes contact. your skin feels like it's on fire, and you don't know what's happening that you can only hear ringing. you'd never felt anything this intensely, but you persist as your hand palms around his torso, before reaching the center. you splay your fingers, pressing into his skin.

you flash green for a second, so quick he almost misses it.

sliding your hand up his chest, you find the base of his throat. a sigh slips through your lips, and you pull him closer. placing his hand on your waist before moving yours in his hair. you flash slightly pink as he slips his other hand on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin.

"this might feel a little cold." you murmur, and you dim entirely. the glow around you is now gone, a soft grey floating off you. it runs to the floor, like sand, and forms different grainy figures. kind of like…sandcastles. you open your eyes, despite the damn near inferno heat where your skin meets his.

"these are all your blockages." you pull his shirt down, and move his hands from your hips. to your right, is a grainy woman that splits into several more women. next to her, are two figures, who seem to disappear into another figure, a forest. you skirt around him, holding him in place with a hand on his hip. behind him, is another figure.

shaped kind of like you. your thighs, your arms, your hair.

"what…do they mean?" you're snapped out of your process by his voice, and you sigh. "this one…channie, you have to find better coping mechanisms. sleeping with women for stress relief is not good for you. i know it feels good, but there are other things you can do. ever tried puzzles?"

you sink to the floor, pulling him with you. you move the figures next to each other in front of you, the sand-like texture sticking to your skin. gesturing to the women, you keep talking.

"casual sex is awful, when you compare it to relationship sex. shit, even hate sex. at least you feel something other than lust for the person you're fucking." you grimace, and he nods. with a wave of your hand, the sand collapses. "these next three…you can pick which you want first." he glances at them, his hand subconsciously searching for yours. you grab it, and he points at the two people. you let your skin burn as you begin to talk, his fingers tightening around your palm. "these…are your parents, and the forest around the university." the room stills, and chan lets go of your hand. "what about them?" "you're afraid they're not proud of you. you feel like you're missing out on your experiences with them, because…" you wince as an aftershock racks your body, making you shiver. you miss chan's nervous glance. "because they're distant. you feel like an outcast from your family, and it affects the way you form bonds here. it's hard for you to build friendships, and it's hard for you to establish relationships because you fear being loved. or maybe loving, and not being loved back"

taking a breath, you pull your knees to your chest.

"the forest is representative of your lost feeling. all the trees look the same, and it makes you feel like you're constantly going in circles. everyone here is identical, we all have something special. you find it hard to relate because although you know there is something that makes you like us, you're unaware of what it is." he nods, and you let the figures drop.

"this one…" you're mumbling, and he leans slightly closer to hear you. sighing, you pull the figure of you closer. raising your arm, the figure raises her arm. "that's me." his head snaps to look at you, your eyes burning holes into the floor. you glance at the figure, collapsing it. all the figures pool together, and you lean forward, blowing it like you would dust off a bookshelf. it disappears, and chan leans back on his hands.

"what about you?" he murmurs, and you shake your head, moving to lie through your teeth. "i don't know." "you're lying." you feel your glow return, flickering gold. "y/n, tell me what it means." "i can't." you shrug, "i don't know what it means. did this help? do you feel better?"

he's peering at you, his eyes swirling violet. you raise a brow as you look at him over your shoulder, and he just shakes his head. getting up, he stalks back to the couch. you watch as he shoves his arms into his hoodie, and you simply get up, floating towards your desk.

he grabs your arm, pulling you closer to him. you sense the frost of indigo across your mid-back. you turn his hold, eyes glued to his fingers wrapped around your arm. "why?"

"hm?" "why can't you tell me?" his eyes are insistent in their violet glory. chills run down your back, indigo spreading over your hips as you run your eyes over him. he's so beautiful. "because…i can't reciprocate."

he doesn't understand, you can tell as he keeps looking at you. kind of like he wants to eat you alive, but also like he wants you to vanish.

"it means you're in love with me, or you will be. you don't like the idea of it, because it means you'll have to open up to me. that kind of…figure doesn't change, even if you want it to. you won't get the option to leave me out of your heart, and it will be unrequited for the rest of our lives. you will love me, forever, and you won't get a say in it." he lets go, brows furrowed, and his face is deep red in embarrassment. you take a step forward, and your hands instinctively reach for his waist. he allows it as he crosses his arms across his chest, his eyes fixated on you, waiting for you to speak.

"i can't love, chan." you whisper, and feel indigo overwhelm you. pursing your lips, you look down so as to not let him see the tears forming. "trust me when i say i wish i could. i wish i could love you, the way you deserve. i could wake up every morning and reach for you, but you would never be there because i can't give you what you need." the tears are dripping off your face now, pattering on the rug beneath your feet. you let go of him, your fingers tugging your shirt up, slipping it over your head. your hair falls to your shoulders, and you push it back, dropping your shirt on your desk. his eyes soften as he looks at the curve of the wide scar – like an insignia, it's carved into your skin. it starts on your shoulder, curving around it the way a fallen bra strap would. it trails down your sternum, before splitting at your diaphragm. a sharp point ends right under your left breast, while the other curves to the right of your belly button, ending on your hip.

"there is nothing i could do in this world that could ever get me in trouble, because i have this." speaking softly, you lift the cup of your bra, showing him where x marks the spot – directly above your heart. "the coven said this was my punishment for minhwi's involvement in this world, and the outrage i sparked. i can't feel love, and i haven't for so long that even if i did, i wouldn't know what it's like. i won't ever feel what it's like to be loved again, because i don't deserve it."

chan's eyes are glossed over as he brings his hand to your skin, the singe making you grimace as his fingers trace the border lightly. he tucks his lip in his teeth as he touches your shoulder, and your glow flickers slightly brighter. he pulls you in, burying his nose in your hair. "everyone deserves love. this is not your fault, i'm sorry things happened this way." you pull back, his eyes glistening with tears as he thumbs the scar on your shoulder. you give him a sad smile, shrugging in his hold. "it's life. life goes on, but for what it's worth…if i could, i'm sure you'd take great care of me."

"i still can." he says, reaching for your shirt. "i'm a pleaser, really. reciprocation has never been an issue."

"are you seriously making a pass at me? after i just told you all of that? have some shame." you let an airy chuckle slip through your lips as you take your shirt from him, and he just smiles. one, two dimples. "not being able to love doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to cum. just saying." you gasp, landing a gentle smack on his arm before sliding your shirt on. "chan, stop it! what did i say about casual sex, hm?" pointing an accusatory finger in his direction, he cages you between your desk and his firm chest. "didn't we just talk about this? you know it's not casual." you know it's not casual.

"just once, think about yourself, yeah? do yourself a favor." he places a chaste kiss on your nose, and you feel your cheeks heat as he peppers his lips over them. you let a giggle bubble in your throat, his lips stopping over your lips. "just think about it." he gives your lips a quick kiss, before pulling back.

"it's late, let me walk you home?" he offers a gentle look in his eyes. you just nod, grabbing your purse from the back of your desk. you decide you'll move the tables back on thursday, sliding your cardigan up your arms. "aren't you cold?" he asks, sliding his arm over your shoulders like he did the night of the party, as you lock the classroom door.

"no, actually. i don't know if you feel it, but every time you touch me, i feel like i'm on fire." you chuckle lightly as you start walking, and his breath hitches. glancing at him, he just moves the two of you forward. "chan?" "mhm?" he doesn't look at you, and you stop walking. crossing your arms, he sighs. "it's not a big deal." he shrugs, trying to shake the subject by tugging you slightly closer. you frown, wrapping your arms around his waist. your eyes are fixed on him, and he can't help but coo.

"you're so pretty." he squishes your face with his free hand, and continues walking forward. "does it bother you?" you ask, your fingers drumming on his hip. the air is so frigid, and so is indigo as it fights chan's warmth. you just have to let me warm up to you.

he did so awfully fast.

"does what bother me?" he's tracing circles in your shoulder, the movement scorching. he seems so relaxed, so unperturbed by anything. you'd never seen his face so calm, used to the furrow of his brows or the bags under his eyes darker than they should be. "the fact that i won't be able to love you back." he chuckles, fingers squeezing your shoulder. "i'm used to it, as pathetic as it sounds. love is not my forte, or for the people around me. jisung is surprisingly able to get into almost anyone's pants, and can't settle down for shit. changbin is sickeningly in love with his best friend, and do you remember that guy we saw at the party? the one sneaking out of the closet?"

you nod, and he laughs. "that's seungmin. that girl he was with, they broke up back in august. they've been fucking around ever since. if they're both at a party, they're hooking up. can't seem to stay away from each other, in a desperate attempt to stay on each other's minds, i guess? it's cute, i think." he shrugs. you feel your heart skip a beat, looking down to see a white glow on your chest. you ignore it, probably glowing silver as you feel the emptiness, the longing to understand what he means.

"so no. it doesn't bother me, it never will. you get used to it."

it pains you a bit, to hear him sound so…well, used to it. so accustomed to settlement, so unbothered by a lack of reciprocation. selfless, really.

wednesday – december 16.

chan wound up spending the night at your apartment. he insisted on taking the couch before you physically pulled him into your room. the moment his back hit the mattress, he ate his words as you tickled him, forcing him to admit that it was more comfortable.

really, you'd just wanted an excuse to wake up next to him. maybe see his bed head, run your fingers through it, exchange a morning kiss. all of that stupid couple shit that you would never fully experience.

because love makes you do stupid things, like spin out on a backroad and die. so you don't deserve to feel it, and really, it keeps you safe. you have no idea what it's like to love anymore and you pretend you're okay with it. you soothe by saying that not all can be felt, not all that can be desired should be had.

but fuck, if you didn't like chan before, you certainly do now.

there's no reason for this. for him standing in your living room, holding a cup of coffee as he reads through the articles you've written and framed. for him to look so cute in your old abba shirt that's too tight on his arms, for his eyes to be swollen with sleep as he blinks over the mug. for him to be so effortlessly unaware of his beauty, of his own effects. on you, on the people in his life.

"you're up." his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you feel your cheeks heat as you nod. "your hair is a mess. here, let me fix it."

he sets down his cup, calmly running his hand through your mussed hair. the curls fight him as he tucks them behind your ears, his fingers lingering on your lobes as you stare at him. your indigo glow reflects on his skin, his head tilted as he speaks. "what? cat got your tongue, professor?"

your mouth opens to retort, but you have nothing to say. nothing comes out. you feel orange flicker through you as you close your mouth, earning a squeaky laugh from the man in front of you. "cute. there's coffee in the kitchen, i just made it."

he doesn't have morning classes on wednesdays, you figure as he follows you to the kitchen. because it's eleven thirty and he's still in your apartment, in your shirt, with his hands on your waist, and you don't care one bit as you pour yourself a cup of coffee.

"are you upset? you haven't said a word." his thumbs work into the small of your back, and you shudder at his touch, before you shake your head. "i'm not used to having people here so early." "it's nearly noon, y/n." he laughs airily, his breath tickling your neck. "still, so early."

you try and ignore the heat in your chest, far stronger than it had ever been before as his fingers carefully dip below the waistband of your sweats, coming out just as quickly. "you weren't in bed when i woke up." you're muttering, but his proximity makes him hear you anyway.

"aw, did you want to wake up in my arms like they do in the movies?" he's teasing you. you scoff in embarrassment, eyes not catching the subtle white glow on your chest as you turn in his hold. "no way, pft. i like spreading my limbs like a starfish, you were crowding me all night." "hey, i offered to take the couch." he shrugs, and you just shake your head. "should've insisted a little more, then i wouldn't have felt so cold when i realized you weren't there." you joke as you set down your cup, and he raises a brow. "didn't think it would bother you, but that can be fixed." "chan–" you squeal as he hooks his arms under your thighs, your own flying to his shoulders. your legs wrap around his waist as he marches the both of you to your bedroom. "chan, don't you have classes today?" "don't you?" he kisses your forehead gently as he sets you down on your bed, pushing you back lightly. you roll your eyes, trying to hide your excitement as he slips under your duvet. he tugs you closer, your back to his chest. if he cares about the scorching heat of your skin touching, he doesn't mention it as he settles his head in the crook of your neck, reaching to intertwine your fingers with his. he holds your hand tightly, nestling it between your breasts. "if you wanted to touch my boobs, you could've just asked." "shut up, let me hold you. be selfish, for once." he nips at your earlobe, and you sigh. tender kisses trail your neck, and you can feel pink creeping down your thighs as he gives your hand a squeeze. "is this okay?"

"mhm." you can't speak as he lets go of your hand, fingers dancing across the exposed skin of your hip where your shirt has ridden up. he doesn't go up, but instead softly dips into the waistband of your sweats, snapping your underwear against your skin. a whine slips, and you freeze as he pauses. "should i stop?" his voice is raspy in your ear, and your hand grabs his wrist, bringing it lower. "it's alright. you can keep going. f-further, if you want."

you curse yourself at the stutter, hearing a soft chuckle in his throat as his fingers pad over the fabric of your panties. your breath hitches in your throat as he circles the wet spot you've been presented with, a shaky sigh escaping chan as he rocks against you. you feel pink envelope in its warmth as you turn onto your back, holding his hand in place as you capture his lips. he kisses you back fervently, his fingers never stopping their movements on your clothed heat.

"c-can you…" you whimper against his lips, his hand never slowing as you move against it, brows furrowed. he watches as you try to form words, your eyes screwed shut as your hand tugs his away. "can you go d-down on me?" barely a whisper as you peel your eyes open, and he swears they hold the stars.

"i'd kill a man if you asked me." he shrugs, and you just roll your eyes. tugging your sweats off, he gets a glimpse of the way your panties stick to your lower lips, his heart racing in his chest knowing he's got you soaking.

he could make you cum with them on. he's positive.

spreading your thighs slowly, he watches as you hook your thumbs into the waistband. he pushes your hands away, not bothering to address your confusion as he holds them in place, sinking between your legs. he can't help but tease, dragging his soft lips up your skin, watching you shudder at the contact. he moves to grip your hips, your shirt rising and the end of your scar becoming visible. his eyes flicker to yours, "shirt stays on, right?"

"y-yeah." you look away, and he rubs your hip reassuringly. "s'alright, baby. i can make you cum just like this, if you want."

it's not a question, you can tell as he kisses the pink cotton of your panties. he has no intention of taking them off, he might not even fuck you, but you don't care. all that matters are his eyes peering into your fucking soul as he dips his head down, a chaste kiss pressed to your hip. he trails down, hands circling your plush thighs as he litters them with kisses. your eyes are watching him nervously, lip tucked under your teeth to stop the soft pants from echoing the room. you feel like you can't breathe as he pulls you closer to his face, pressing that strong nose into you, inhaling deeply. "you smell so fucking good, baby." he's not even doing anything, but the vibrations of his moan against you elicit a whimper from your throat, making you buck your hips forward. his grip tightens as he nuzzles his nose against your clit, placing a soft kiss on it before he speaks against it.

"be nice, or i'll make you scream." he smiles into your underwear, tonguing your clit through the fabric. he watches as your glow grows brighter, pulling you impossibly closer. he's letting you grind on his face, to use him for your pleasure, and you'd be lying if that doesn't make you that much more wet for him. "y-you don't want to take them off?"

your stuttering is adorable to him, and the way your fingers card through his hair and tug adds to his own pleasure. shaking his head, he snaps the waistband against you again, "you're so needy, aren't you? can't get off just like this?" "channie, p-please. please, i want your f-fingers." he hums against your clit, continuing his cruel lapping, the sound of your pussy against his face obscene and sloppy. "you can beg better than that. tell me how bad you want it, baby." "w-want it so bad, channie, please. please, i'll be g-good for you, p-promise. s-so good." you're almost sobbing, and he almost feels bad. a gentle laugh leaves his throat as he thumbs your slit, leaving sticky strings against his skin as he gives in. "so good? so, so good for me? is that right?" he slides the flimsy fabric down your legs, the exposure to the cool air making you shiver. he's watching your face contort as he collects your arousal on his fingers, before slowly teasing your entrance. "i swear to god, chan-" your retort gets cut off by a gasp, his fingers hitting just right, his lips sucking tortuously on your clit. he likes it messy, is all you can think in your fucked out state as you coat his entire hand in your slick, feeling him groan against your pussy.

"look at you, so pretty. you're a good girl for me, right? you're gonna soak the sheets, hm?" he feels you clamp around his fingers, another wave of your arousal glazing his palm as you sob. "fuck, you sound so hot." "c-channie..." you rasp, your voice so low he almost misses it. he peers at you over your soft tummy, your lips swollen and covered in your spit from biting back your moans. you're actively whining, grinding against his hand in a weak attempt at reaching your release. "aw, baby wants to cum? is that it?"

you whimper, making him curl his fingers inside your wet heat. he seemed to have found the perfect spot as you arched your back off the bed, attempting to pull away from him. his left arm holds you tightly in place, your fingers clutching his wrist as your choked moan rings blissfully in his ears. your thighs close around him, his soft shh doing nothing to quiet you down as you let your orgasm wrack your legs. his lips pepper kisses all over your pelvis, mumbles of praises as he works his way up.

he hovers over your face, pressing his soft lips on your cheek. you wrap your arms around his neck, shivering at the way his fingers pinch your clothed nipple lightly. "you can give me one more, right? just one more, princess." he's murmuring against your skin, and you nod as he reaches your lips.

"just one more?" you nip at his lower lip, before sinking in to kiss him. "just one. want to feel you around me, want to know how good i'm making you feel." you realize it's important to chan, despite what he said the night before. he wanted to be praised, he wanted to make somebody proud, even if this was the only way he felt he could do it. he could act like he's this statue, this emotionless, needless creature of nature – but he also desired approval, to be needed, to be wanted.

to be loved.

you don't say anything as you let his hands push your knees to your chest, his lips now suckling on your nipple through your shirt. your hands move to his head, pushing it away as you go to slip it off. his hands let go of your legs, entwining your fingers with his brows furrowed. "you don't have to." "i want to." you quip back quickly, tugging your fingers out of his grasp. you hook them at the hem of your shirt, lightly lifting off the bed to slide it off. he hesitates, his eyes tracing the curves of the raised skin. the way it glows lightly, almost as though it's losing its defined edges.

his eyes flicker to yours, your gaze intently scanning his face. did you think he'd be disgusted? maybe even repulsed? lowering his head, he brushed a kiss to your lips, before he allowed himself to sink to your chest. you breathed in nervously, your fingers gripping the sheets next to your body when you felt his mouth planting feather-light touches to your scar.

he can feel your skin heat under his face, the more he travels along the healed welt. the glow is slightly brighter than your overall pink, as you shudder under him, his hands pulling your fingers into his, the crumpled sheets forgotten as he pins your arms above your head.

"you're so beautiful. gorgeous, ethereal. no words could express how lovely you are." he whispers as he presses one final kiss where x marks the spot, and you jolt lightly at the singe you feel. it spreads, the whole insignia across your torso burning deeply as he moves back. his eyes are flashing with something you can't read. "chan…" "sorry." he shakes his head, his thumbs rubbing circles into your hands. you tilt your head at him, before glancing at his body, a smile spreading on your plump lips. "are you going to fuck me with all your clothes on?"

"i can." he smiles, and you raise an eyebrow. "off, all of it."

standing off the side of your bed, he tugs your old abba shirt off, and you watch with sinful eyes as he flings it away. "stop staring at me." he whispers, and you shake your head playfully. "you said you'd kill a man if i asked, and gave me the best head of my life, but i can't watch you strip?"

"the best, huh?" he ignores everything else he slips his sweats off, pulling your hips to the edge of the bed. "don't get cocky, or this won't count as extra c-credit." your eyes peer at him, the leaking head of his thick cock already teasing your folds lightly. his hands circle your legs once more, pulling one over his shoulder while folding the other close to your chest. he stares at your soaked cunt, the way it clenches around nothing. so inviting, so wet, so ready for him.

"that's alright, let's count it as the first class i missed. what was it, getting to know me? ask me something." he continues his teasing, watching as you squirm against him. "uhm, o-okay. what's your favorite color?"

"really?" he rubs against you lightly, his tip dragging over your clit so menacingly, you swear you could cum from just that. "hm, i like black." "black is an ab-absence of color, fuck." you dig your nails into your thighs as he shallowly thrusts into you, the lack of warning wracking a shudder up your spine. "mm, if you can't keep talking there's going to be an absence of dick in about two seconds."

"n-no, no please. shit, that feels so good." you can't keep your eyes open as he slowly sinks further into you, stilling his movements as you tuck your lip into your teeth. "ah, ah. eyes open, keep talking to me." his fingers lightly tap your cheek, your skin burning in embarrassment as you peel your eyes open. "next question, baby." "b-biggest accomplishment so f-far?" you swallow thickly as his hips are flush against your ass, allowing you to adjust to the size of him before making any more movements. he leans his head against your ankle, brows furrowed as he speaks. "probably making you cum so hard, you cry." you narrow your eyes as you look at him, "you h-haven't, though?" "but i will." he kisses your shin, giving an experimental thrust of his hips. your eyes flutter shut, a silent gasp from your lips turning to soft mewls as he starts a gentle pace. "next question." "d-do you believe in love at first s-sight?" you feel him hesitate, before he gives you a particularly harsh thrust. "somewhat." he rubs your thigh gently before continuing his brutal ministrations. "harder, please." silently, he obliges, letting your breathy moans fill his ears instead of talking. he hates talking, he hates answering questions, but he can't help and adore the tone of your voice, the softness of your queries, the avoidance in answering his.

"you feel so good, channie, holy shit." he can feel you clenching tightly around him, but lets your praise take precedence. the way you're arching your back off the mattress, hairline lined with beads of sweat as you let him fuck into you, just the way you like. the way you seem to love, as he lowers to whisper in your ear. "next question."

the proximity makes everything feel like it's a thousand degrees, your hands flying to his hair as he sucks on your collarbone lightly. "favorite s-song? ah!' you hiss at his teeth on your skin, feeling his grin against you.

"your voice." his thrusts are slowly becoming less steady, but you don't care. you don't care because his skin is scorching hot, he's holding you to him, you can feel the air of his pants against your neck and he feels so good.

there's no reason for this. for him to be blissfully ruining you while holding you flush to his chest, your nipples touching with every roll of his hips. for him to look so good while he defiles you, the way you're not even speaking coherently in his ear. for your soul to feel like it's aching for more of him, but how much more could you have when you can't love him. for him to be so effortlessly unaware of his beauty, of his own effects, on you, as the white-hot of your orgasm starts approaching fast.

"i…" you feel a sob rip through you, and he instinctively pulls away from you. "hey, hey. it's alright, baby." guilt fills his chest, his hands holding your face as the tears stream down your cheeks. "it's alright, we don't have to–" pushing yourself up on your elbows, you smash your lips to his, feeling yourself glow so hot you're practically on fire. it's all teeth and tongue, and you're wrapping your fingers around his throat before he can react. squeezing gently, he whines into your mouth, his hips snapping erratically against you. you swallow his sounds in your quiet sobs, the tears dripping down your neck doing nothing to cool you down.

"y/n…" he whines pitifully against your lips, and you can feel his pout emerge as you clench around him. he settles his face in the crook of your neck, cheeks flushed. "p-please don't stop, don't stop, e-ever…" you're just as needy as he is, throwing your head back as he bites at your shoulders, your hand on his throat tightening as he sends you over the edge.

"fuck, baby." the whimper into your shoulder does nothing good for him as you clench around him, milking whatever is left of him, hips driving you both into overstimulation. he slows, his head lifting from your shoulder to peer into your eyes. you avoid them, letting go of his throat and wiping them off with the back of your hand.

the room feels heavy, with guilt. shame. maybe even a bit of hatred, but you’re not entirely sure as he kisses you gently, chastely, before pulling back. his eyes hold the sun, the stars, the moon.

"guess you got your biggest accomplishment, huh?" you chuckle thickly, and he shakes his head, pulling out slowly. his eyes avert to your center, watching his cum drip out of you slowly. he feels weird, it's such a waste. "are you okay? i should've asked sooner, i'm sorry." "no, no. it was…it was really good." you admit, feeling your glow flicker. you close your legs, scooting up on the bed as he reaches for your shirt, you cross your arms over your chest, fingers digging into your sides. "i really liked it, actually." "are you sure?" he's absent, you can tell as he wipes the back of your legs gently, before tossing the shirt over his shoulder. "i'm sorry for crying, i know it was really sudden. i just felt so overwhelmed and you felt so good, and i…" you trail off, and he feels his cheeks heat, shaking his head again. "no, it's fine. that was the goal, after all. i…do you want me to go?" your brows furrow, and you tilt your head. "go? why would i want you to go?" he shrugs, not meeting your eyes as he tugs on his sweatpants. "i don't know, i usually leave after…things like this." "what happened to 'you know it's not casual?'" you use air quotes, and you see his cheeks burn bright red. "i…i don't think i'd be able to do this, especially after what we talked about yesterday."

"do…what? we just had sex, it's not a big deal." you uncross your arms, ignoring your blatant nudity as he slips your abba shirt to you, taking it just to toss it to the side. "...act like i don’t care. i really, really like you, y/n, and i already feel so guilty about this." he can't look at you as he slips his hoodie on, the one you'd thrown over your desk chair last night when he said it was too hot to wear to bed.

you close your mouth, pressing your lips into a firm line as you grab the shirt, tugging it over your head. "i figured this would happen. maybe you should go, chan. clear your head, and we can talk later."

your brows are furrowed as you open your bedroom door, and he swallows thickly. he knew what he was getting himself into, so why does it bother him now? he said he wouldn't care, he said it so confidently.

and yet, he can't bring himself to say a word as he slams out of your apartment, eyes full of tears. leaving you feeling dejected, guilty and alone.

thursday – december 17.

it wasn't until the next day that you noticed it was significantly smaller.

it didn't curve under your breast anymore, the subtle x on your skin gone. it didn't wrap around your shoulder anymore, and it stopped right next to your navel. the scarred skin was now a bit paler, and you'd grimaced as you tugged your shirt on.

you couldn't be arsed with thinking about it, really, because now you had to walk into your classroom and face chan. of course, the chances of him not being there were fifty-fifty.

which inherently, made you feel worse.

you didn't understand why you couldn't stop thinking about his words, and what he said. your voice was his favorite song, he didn't care if you loved him or not, he somewhat believed in love at first sight? he'd met you officially a little over a month ago, no one can fall in love that quickly.

groaning, you felt orange flicker across your body as you let your heels clack against the saltillo tile of the hallway, tossing your half-empty coffee cup in the trash can. upon entering your room, the air feels…cooler.

chan is sitting on the couch, his legs squished together as minnie and shuhua peer at his face. soyeon, mingyu and yugyeom are flipping through various textbooks, each talking about what could have caused a sudden irischroma shift. he probably feels the heat of your stare, his eyes flickering to yours.

they're a deep, deep indigo color. they flash lightly at the sight of you, and minnie looks up to see you standing at your podium. "y/n…you've gotta come see this." "i can…i can see it, minnie." your voice is faint as you feel your chest searing hot, your hand coming to soothe it. clearing your throat, you shake your head as you feel a little weary, shuhua approaching you quickly. "are you okay? y/n?" "yes, i'm okay." your breathing becomes a little labored, soyeon and mingyu rushing to your side as you sink to the floor. "just give me some room." your hands touch the cool floor, and you can feel yourself dimming by the second.

"gyu, get help." minnie shoves mingyu out the door, and you can hear his footsteps fading as he runs to the infirmary. "chan, help me pick her up." yugyeom urges, and you weakly shake your head.

"i'm fine, i'm okay." you choke out, your hand clutching your chest as you feel chan's warm hands on your arms, circling around to lift you gently. "easy, easy. i got you, baby." he murmurs, and you feel your eyes sting with tears as he lets you slump against him, your glow fading fast.

"stay with me." his fingers dig into your side as he picks you up bridal style, carefully walking you over to the couch. yugyeom pulls their backpacks off, letting him lower you gently. minnie fans you with a stack of papers. chan peers at your face, your brows pinched as you breathe in as deeply as you can, his thumb instinctively padding at the crease. huffing, you tear his hand away, lacing your fingers in his. he acts like his heart doesn’t lurch forward.

"alright, everybody, back up." mingyu's voice rings in the room, and your bleary eyes can barely make out the oxygen mask that nurse taeyeon is slipping over your face. "there, there, professor. we got you."

you're shivering as she instructs chan to lift you onto the gurney on three, and you almost cry at the loss of contact when he sets you down. "chan, chan." your voice is nearly a whisper, and the students watch as you flicker, your glow lost as it glitches between colors.

"maybe you should go with her." yugyeom nudges him as nurse taeyeon glances at him, and she crosses her arms as chan nods slowly,slipping his bag over his shoulder. he takes nurse taeyeon's place at the end of the gurney, rolling you quietly out of the classroom. you're flickering from color to color as he walks slightly faster at nurse taeyeon's command.

"what happened?" she asks, and chan shakes his head as they take a sharp turn, your groan resounding in the hall. "i'm not sure, she just started clutching her chest and basically fell to the floor." nodding, taeyeon stays quiet the rest of the walk, her eyes only glancing at his worried expression and your hazy one. they're in love, she thinks. this is love.

taeyeon can't really help you. her powers lay in the herbalism field, she has no idea what's wrong, and she can't get a specialist here fast enough. she watches as chan carefully positions you in the empty room, letting his bag slide onto the floor before taking a seat at the foot of the bed. she simply sighs, calling that she'd be back with a rosemary tea and to just sit tight as she calls for the master sorcerers.

his hand gently strokes your ankle, making you flinch. "chan, chan i can't breathe." you tug at your collar, and he quickly reaches to unbutton your top buttons. "it's gonna be okay, angel." he's whispering as your hand grasps his wrist, the oxygen mask doing little to help as you wheeze.

"chan…" his head lifts, and your eyes are teary as you hear footsteps approaching hurriedly. he doesn't acknowledge you as the master sorcerers burst into your room, taeyeon trailing behind them with a steaming cup. "excuse me, coming through." she perches at the edge of the bed, carefully pulling you up. you whimper softly, and chan feels his heart ache at your pain. "drink this, it'll help your stress. that's probably what this is, just some anxiety."

taeyeon's tone is soft as she takes off the oxygen mask, the master sorcerers waiting until they can swoop in. neither of them acknowledge chan, despite getting to know him insanely well over the past few years. he could dare to think that they were afraid of him, of not knowing what he was. master sorcerers my ass, he thinks.

"i can't…" you're breathless, and taeyeon's gaze softens as she lets you slump down on the pillow once more. "it's alright. the master sorcerers are here, okay? they'll take care of you." she pats your shoulder, and you nod wearily as the grandest of all, dr. kang seulgi, takes a step forward.

"bang chan, why are you here?" her sharp voice echoes in the room, and your hand weakly reaches for him as he slides off the bed. "i brought her in, dr. kang."

"i see. you can evacuate the premises." she waves him away nonchalantly, and he frowns deeply as he steps back, your eyes fixed on him. almost like you're begging him to stay.

"i think i'll stay, actually." he blurts, and dr. kang's eyes snapped to him. "i'm not asking you, chan, i'm telling you." "let the boy stay, what's the harm?" dr. min's voice rings from his spot against the door frame, and chan glances up at the nimble man. "c'mon, seulgi."

"yoongi, if you undermine me again, you're sleeping on the couch." she grits, her wedding band to dr. min glinting in the low light as she rubs her temples. your hand reaches for chan once more, a soft groan from your lips catching his attention. he takes it, entwining your fingers quickly, kneeling at your side. "of course, jagi. y/n, what seems to be the problem?" dr. min pushes past, noting the undone buttons of your blouse. your chest is glowing, but the rest of you is the dimmest indigo he'd ever seen. much less, having seen you never glow indigo. your breathing is still labored, chest glowing brighter as chan once more rubs the pinch of your brows away.

"y/n, i'm going to open your shirt, okay?" dr. kang pushes past dr. min, her nimble fingers undoing the rest of the buttons. your scar is illuminated, but…it's not really there. it's faded, and chan can tell this is out of the ordinary as dr. kang's brows raise.

"yoongi." her voice is low, bringing her husband to her side. "oh, my."

their eyes meet, as though they're speaking telepathically. dr. kang's eyes flash gold as she furrows her brows, her husband grimacing as his own flash green. they glance at chan, who is gingerly moving your hair out of your face, his fingers barely ghosting over your sticky skin.

you can barely see him through your foggy eyes, but you're scanning him intently. you can see the glowing indigo of his eyes, that matches yours. you're dimming, but he's brighter than ever and it sends a shiver up your spine. his hand squeezes yours, a wave of heat attacking your chest.

dr. kang looks back, her husband staring intently at her.

"he healed her, it seems." his eyes speak, and she shakes her head. "he's not a healer, remember? we tried that already." yoongi nods, eyes fluttering back to the both of you. chan's now sitting on the edge of the bed, your arm draped over his lap as he speaks to you gently. he can't hear what chan is saying, but the glint of adoration in his eyes tells him all he needs to know.

"chan, can i see you in the hallway?" dr. min speaks, and your head turns to him. you pout, your eyes filling with tears as chan pulls away from you. dr. kang gives him a hard glare as she takes his place, her cool hand placed directly on your hot skin, making you groan.

"yes, dr. min?" chan's eyes are enticing, and dr. min shrugs. "let's try a little something, hm?" chan follows dr. min's line of vision, the door of the bathroom ajar. dr. min makes a gesture for chan to wait, before ducking into the bathroom, shutting the door. chan hears a loud crash, and dr. min appears just as fast, with a bloody fist.

"dr. min, are you alright? i can get nurse taeye-" dr. min places his free hand over chan's mouth, a knowing look in his eyes as he holds up his injured hand. "heal me, chan." "what? sir, i'm not a healer, you know that." chan furrows his brows, and dr. min shakes his head. "channel it." dr. min's eyes are boring into chan's soul as he looks away, shivering as he tries to channel any sort of magical energy for this injury. he's not surprised when nothing happens, and dr. min nods his head.

dr. min simply heals it himself, and chan looks away as the skin closes quickly, the dried blood disappearing before his eyes. vitalis mendacium, he thinks it's called. "chan, i think i may have an idea of what's going on with professor y/n." dr. min clasps his hands together in front of him, and chan tilts his head.

"you're in love with her, aren't you?" dr. kang's voice rings from the doorway of your room, and chan gapes at her. "w-what?" "don't play dumb. she told me she helped you clear some emotional blockage on tuesday, and she showed up in your blockages." dr. kang crosses her arms, and a groan is heard from you, chan flinching at the sound. "chan, this is dangerous territory." his eyes narrow as he shakes his head. "i don't think what you did to her was right. i think we all deserve a chance at love, no matter our mistakes. you're wrong, dr. kang." dr. kang scowls, "you think we did this to her? the old coven did it, we had no say!" she points between herself and her husband, and dr. min places his hand on her shoulder.

"chan, seulgi is right. in this world, there is no amount of study done that could reverse what the old coven has done to y/n. they cursed layers upon layers of punishment on her, this was never intended to be something that could be undone." dr. min speaks slowly, and chan can hear you whining in the room behind the couple. he's antsy, he feels sick to his stomach knowing you're a mere ten feet away and he can't make you feel better.

"i don't know what to do." dr. kang admits lowly, her hand covering her eyes as she looks away from the men in front of her. "i think…" dr. min trails off as chan pushes past them, sliding next to you. he watches chan fan you with his hand, your own wrapped around his waist as you shiver.

"you trust me, right?" he looks to seulgi, who nods her head. "always." his hands spin her around, making her face the two of you. "i think this is his to heal. look how quiet she is in his presence, she's barely moving. her breathing is more steady." "yoongi, he's not a healer." seulgi groans into her hands, her eyes catching a flash of white protruding from you as chan runs his hand down your back. she watches as he helps you peel your jacket off, your baby pink shirt transparent from the sheen of your sweat soaking through.

"maybe not for us, but for her." yoongi mumbles, seeing chan swipe your hair away from your neck, his lips pursed as he blows cool air against your skin. your groan is one of relief as he rocks you, and seulgi glances at her husband, swallowing thickly. "they're so rare, yoongi. there hasn't been one in this dimension in three hundred and twenty five years."

"i think we may have another on our hands." yoongi smiles widely as you slowly prop yourself up on your elbow, chan's worried eyes scanning your face for distress. you make a noise of disgust, your glow returning green steadily as chan helps you sit up. "what happened? ugh, i'm all sweaty."

glancing at your hands, you see them glowing indigo as it spreads up your body. you turn, seeing the master sorcerers staring at you from the doorway. grimacing, you glimpse at chan, who is looking at you intently. "hey, you alright?" his hand is holding your hip, and your frown falters as you look into his eyes. they're glowing bright as he looks you over. "what happened to your eyes?" your voice is raspy, and he looks away, shrugging.

"i'm not sure. they started changing last night." he swallows, and you shudder as indigo engulfs you entirely. "they look…pretty."

he snorts, shaking his head. "you might want to button up your shirt." feeling your cheeks burn, your fingers fumble with the buttons when you feel seulgi's cool hand on your wrist. "wait."

letting her lay you back, you miss chan's warmth as he slips off the bed, lingering from a few feet away as she opens your shirt. her eyes widen as she quickly beckons her husband over. his eyes snake down your torso, and his eyes glint with green as he meets seulgi's. they're silent, their faces moving as they communicate.

"y/n?" dr. kang's voice is low as she runs her hand through your mussed curls, and you meet her line of vision. her eyes are soft, staring at your torso. "y/n, do you know the history of psychosomatic healers?"

raising a brow, you nod your head. "yeah, they're the rarest of the healing trifecta. there hasn't been one in this dimension since 1699, and even then there's only seven recorded cases because they're so difficult to pinpoint at commencement." dr. min steps forward, noticing chan's eyes glued to the floor as dr. kang examines you further.. "y/n, i'd like to try something, if you don't mind." nodding, you allow dr. kang to take your arm in her hand, pulling your sleeve off your shoulder.

with a quick swipe of her nails, you're bleeding. you gape at her, a scoff flying from your lips when chan looks up, the sound tearing him from his thoughts. "are you serious, seulgi?" you push her away, flickering orange and dr. min beckons chan forward. "touch her, chan."

taking a deep breath, chan gets closer to you, his nose scrunching at the blood seeping into your shirt. he takes your hand in his, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin. you look away from your shoulder, zeroing in on the subtle touch of affection when a white glow catches everyone's eyes. tugging at your shirt sleeve, seulgi reveals a clean shoulder, no injury visible.

"a psychosomatic healer can only heal those they love." she states, her eyes boring into chan's as he tries to tug his hand away, but you only use it as leverage to sit up. "what the fuck are you guys on about?" "there's no way you're that dumb, y/n." seulgi snorts, her manicured fingernail pointing at your chest. "i don't know how he did it, and i don't think we'll ever know. the curse the coven set upon you has been lifted by him." you look down — the raised welt where your scar once was has dissipated. widening your eyes, you peel the shoulder of your shirt down, the formerly scarred skin now smooth. your fingers tremble as you run them over your soft flesh, feeling the sting of tears forming. you can feel the burn of a sob in your throat as chan releases your hand, stepping back as you process.

the burning of his gaze, of his skin on yours, of your chest in his presence. the ache you felt in your soul yesterday as his lips brushed your neck with every roll of his hips, the way his answers confused you. the anger you felt while walking to class, at not being able to decipher him.

the way his angel eyes held the sun, the moon, and the stars. the way worry creases his brow though relief has washed over his frame, the way you're itching to hold him close, and never, ever let go.

it all makes sense.

"we'll give you both a moment." the master sorcerers bow their heads as they back out of the room, dr. min closing the door behind him. you sit in silence, feeling sticky and gross and overwhelmed.

"you're in love with me?!" you shriek, and chan throws up his hands in defense. "i thought we already knew this, why are we screaming?!" you swat his arm, and a nervous laugh bubbles up his throat. flopping back down onto the gurney, you dramatically cover your eyes with your arm, sighing. "now i have to cherish this, and we're probably going to get married and have kids and all that shit. are you serious? are you serious." "y/n…" you stand up, pacing back and forth in front of him, your hands weaving through your hair to soothe the onsetting migraine at the information. "how are you not freaking out, chan? you just found out you're one of the rarest healers in the trifecta, and not to mention the first in over three centuries! are you shitting me right now?" "y/n?"

you're not listening as you continue to ramble, pacing a hole into the floor when he grabs your shoulder, pulling you to him. taking both your hands in his, he looks you in the eyes. "you're spiraling."

huffing, you nibble on your lower lip. "what happens now, chan?"

his smile is warm, it's comforting, it's making your stomach flip as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. "i don't know. isn't that the beauty of it all, though? not knowing where you end up?"

pouting, you rest your head on his shoulder, allowing his warmth to seep into your skin. "i've never felt this, chan. i don't know what it's like to be lost, i've always had my answers." you can feel the vibrations of his chest as he laughs, his hand coming to stroke your hair gently.

"that's okay, it'll be like the blind leading the blind. for now, we can just focus on…us? maybe go on a date, have dinner…" his voice is soft as you look up to him, his eyes already scanning your face for any hint of rejection. "unless you don't want to." you do, of course you do.

"i'm all sweaty, and gross. we've had a revelation about your purpose in this world, your eyes are a different color, and you want to focus on us?" your voice is laced with incredulity, a hint of amusement peeking through as it tugs at your lips. "i have my whole life to focus on other things. when you can't find a piece of a puzzle, you pick another part to focus on, do you not? i have that answer, that piece now, but i'm already figuring this part out." squeezing your shoulder, he places a chaste kiss on your hairline, your nose scrunching.

"why did you come with me?" you poke his chest, and he smirks. "yesterday or today?"

gaping, you land a soft smack to his chest, his squeaky laughter filling your ears as your cheeks heat. "chan! not funny!" "sorry, i'm sorry! i saw an opportunity, i took it. but, i was worried about you." he starts, taking a piece of your hair between his fingers. "i saw how angry you looked before minnie spoke to you, and before you looked at me. you started looking faint when we met eyes, and i was…i was scared that something might happen to you and that i wouldn't be able to apologize for potentially overstepping boundaries, or ruining whatever little game we have going on."

"you couldn't ruin whatever this is even if you tried." you scoff, your words tumbling out before you can process them. "i've never felt anything this intense before in my entire life. my ears started ringing when i touched your chest on tuesday, here." you splay your fingers on his hoodie, in the same place.

"i couldn't hear a thing. that was me, the blockage, i was basically hearing myself. if we didn't have that moment, if you hadn't let me in, none of this would have happened." you speak softly, taking his hands in yours, his eyes glassy as he looks into yours. your smile is gentle, and he can feel his stomach flutter as you lean closer. "and i'm so glad it did. despite this whole day being so weird, despite the coven probably burning holes into the back of my head right now from hell right now, and despite the tears i can see about to spill out of your eyes, nothing could ruin this. okay?" he looks away, nibbling on his lip. your thumb strokes his cheek, catching a few stray tears as you make him face you. vision blurring, but you can see him clearer than ever.

"okay?" you insist, and he nods. "okay."

"good." pulling him towards you, you crash your lips to his, feeling your heart beating in your ears. your arms cross over his shoulders, his hands finding home on your bare waist, the kiss becoming heated. parting his lips, your tongue snakes its way in, a soft groan from chan as he pushes you back, your knees hitting the gurney.

"not in here, guys." dr. kang's voice echoes in the room, and you spring apart like teenagers. wiping at your lips, you watch as chan grabs your discarded jacket, and his bag. outstretching his hand to you, you take it, letting him rush the both of you towards the door. quickly bowing to the master sorcerers, you giggle as the cool december air hits your chest.

"yeah, y/n! nice titties, girl!" you hear a holler from down the hall, your eyes catching a glimpse of minnie's teal hair. you smile widely, waving as chan continues, a blush coating his cheeks as you begin to float behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"where are we going?" you mumble in his ear, and he shivers. "to yours. i need to show you how much you mean to me." you let the butterflies bounce around in your stomach, knowing exactly what was coming your way.

friday – january 08.

your relationship with chan had become the talk of the wizard world. several words were thrown your way, many to your detriment – but you chose to focus on 'love epiphany' and 'anomalies made to traverse together.'

he naturally passed your class with flying colors, what more could you do when he literally discovered himself? the students deemed it completely fair, with only yugyeom choosing to retake your course because he felt like he didn't really do what was necessary. mornings were filled with the buzzing of your phone – the students had made a group chat and continuously badgered you with memes, and mingyu with his graduation photos.

whereas, chan's mornings were filled with you, his phone long put on silent. your soft hair tickling his neck, only for your gentle lips to place chaste kisses along his jaw as he awoke. your warm leg draped over his waist, your knee teasing his crotch so early was something he'd never get used to. your arm, propping you up once he lazily peels an eye open, closing it the moment he sees your beaming smile, a blush coating his cheeks.

"do you always stare at me when i sleep?" he mumbles, his fingers dipping under the hem of your sleep shorts. "do birds fly?" "you're a creep, you know that?" laughing, he lets you hold his eyes open with your fingers, the indigo glow of them making you glow brighter in turn. that was what it meant, after all – the subzero color now warm, as you illuminated the room with your love for chan. "yeah? well you're creeping your fingers into my panties, so maybe shut up."

your lips are addicting, he could never get enough of them as you brush them against him. both sets, of course.

kidding. sort of. not at all. he loves you, okay? that's all that matters.

"you should check your email, channie." you murmur against his neck, and he nods his head, watching as you try not to smile. "oh i should, should i?" ignoring the raise of his eyebrow, you reach for chan's phone, plopping it on his bare chest. chan lolls his head back, hands relocating to your hips as he pulls you on top of him. your cheeks heat at the soft love bites on his pec, but shake it away as his voice snakes into your head

"you seem a little too excited, baby." he ruffles your hair as he unlocks his phone, and you just bite your lip as he scans the screen. "tell me, sorcerer, what's the news?" your voice bounces off the walls, with chan just squeezing your hip in response.

from: [email protected]

dearest bang chan,

it is our honor here at the spellbound institute of magic to let you know that you have been chosen to be published in this year's edition of the spellbound sorcerer. such an honor is only awarded to those with extraordinary skill.

we've also made the unanimous decision for you to speak at this year's annual convention, taking over the healing trifecta's booth. more information will be provided as the date approaches.

we look forward to seeing you and professor y/l/n there.

signed,

dr. kang seulgi

dr. min yoongi

master sorcerers

spellbound institute of magic

his eyes flicker to yours, your grin so wide, it's infectious. "i'm getting published." "you're getting published!" you cheer loudly, and chan feels his cheeks heat as you pepper his face in kisses. "you're getting published, baby! we have to celebrate! let's ask your parents to dinner, yeah? we can get a cabin for the weekend, so they don't have to drive home so late."

he forgets how you pried the truth about his parents out of him, but he's almost sure it was last tuesday when you made him beg for you to sit on his face. almost sure, but he doesn't really care anymore. after all, he'd warmed up to you.

"i'm so proud of you, channie." your voice is gentle as you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, and he nods, burying his face in your chest as embarrassment spreads in his. "hey, you can't hide from me. what happened to the praise kink? don't you want to know how good you're doing?" "i told you that in confidence!" he swats at your leg as he nestles into your laughter. "i know! it's just me and you here, what's the problem?! let me praise you!"

"never. come on, let's read my stupid essay." he throws the comforter off his legs, and you huff as you climb off his lap. sitting up on the edge of the bed, you lean against his back, your arms hooked around his broad shoulders. the same ones full of your nail marks, a few imprints of your teeth scattered around them. "i graded it, i already read it." "well, praise me while i read it." he snorts, and you press a soft kiss to his shoulder. "mm, okay. i'll take what i can get."

bang chan

professor y/l/n

identity theory

if you're nothing without this suit, then you shouldn't have it. – tony stark, spider-man: homecoming (2017)

the fall was slow, like liebesträume.

feeling lost is an understatement.

i've been lost before – in grocery stores, misunderstanding assignments. i've even been lost in the woods before, riddled with anxiety standing within the trees. so uniform, full of belonging. those trees know where their purpose lies.

me? i've been wandering this world not knowing where my purpose lies, what i'm meant to be doing with said unrealized purpose. this is a feeling of disorientation, isolation, off course. it's all the same anyway, isn't it?

i spent years looking for answers – from the day i was dropped off at the academy to the day i met professor y/l/n. life was well sullied with fear, a feeling of desperation as i felt my time running low. i willingly put myself in danger, hopping from dimension to dimension with the aid of some friends to find something to ease my worries, and came up empty. answers will find you, not you them.

another thing i failed to consider was that i perhaps had my answer all along. from the natural instinct to protect and take care of the people i hold close, to the agony of being away from my family – all i needed was a catalyst. something to throw me even more off course, even more confusing than what life had come to be before her.

professor y/l/n has brought me to life. truly, i could never say enough to express the appreciation i have for her, but i will attempt it any chance i get. an enigma, an anomaly, a paradigm – she is far, far more than these words could begin to define. she's selfless, she's full of light and i could never understand that. my admiration for her goes well beyond this lifetime, and like the praying mantis, she was a beacon of guidance.

her story is full of twists and turns as she allowed me to indulge. from the flickering of the glow around her, to understanding that only the deepest of her indigo hue glows for me, i'm honored to say the least. i will never get enough of her story, of her truths, of her. the idea that love lies in the hands of the beholder is entirely true in this case. to be loved is to be known, and she read me far beyond my wildest dreams the moment her golden cast laid upon me.

eckhart tolle says that, to love is to recognize yourself in another. i have never experienced something as deep as this, nor have i ever seen myself in y/n – and i'm glad i don't. my insecurities, my flaws, what i dislike about myself, are my own. however, i know she sees something i don't, and i trust that. i trust her, with my entire being. without her, i'd have no clue of my purpose. to younger me, who is still wondering the answer to that, i propose this.

your purpose is to love. love beyond your ways, love selflessly. love selfishly, like it's all you can do. like it's all you're capable of, because the moment you lay eyes on y/n? you will see, it is. loving her is all you can do. life without love is meaningless, life without her is hopeless.

taglist: @cookiesandcreammy | @alician87

(if you asked to be on the taglist and do not see yourself here, please consider checking if you have your age/year of birth in your desc! otherwise, you will not be tagged. thanks!)

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stacy-fakename · 8 months

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I’m sorry, but my type-a ass cannot be against the Rat Grinders. They’re essentially the kids that couldn’t get the special treatment from teachers and get by on stumbling through tests and happening to get an A without studying. The Rat Grinders feel less like people who cheated the system, and more like the kids who aren’t naturally gifted or lucky, and have to spends hours on end studying, doing extra homework and extra credit, losing their social lives and free time to catch up with the kids who can just breeze through it. Fig never went to a single class or did any homework but gets away with it because the coach, lunch lad, and vice principal are her dads, Kristin and Riz did literally the worst thing their respective class can do, Gorgug actively works to avoid using the main feature of his class whenever possible, Adaine became the Oracle through seemingly happenstance, and Fabian’s rich family bought his way into the extra curricular he’s now the captain of, and all of them skipped half of freshman year! Obviously we, the audience, know that they worked their asses off to get through school each year and to get where the are today. We know they earned every little good thing they have! Fig has worked so hard to become the rockstar she is! Kristin literally brought back a god! Riz in a supergenius detective! Gorgug is an incredible barbarian and artificer! Adaine works so hard to help all of her friends survive a toxic system! Fabian slaved away to earn his achievements himself instead of letting his father’s legacy be his identity! But think of it from an outside perspective, without all the knowledge that only the audience has! These random kids stumbled into three adventures that let them skip grinding for XP, got to miss half a year with no consequence, get special privileges and quests because they are related to or friends with the faculty, never do their assignments or go to class, became popular because of their privileges, and now randomly start spouting micro aggressions towards halflings? If I was one of the Rat Grinders, I’d be pissed off too! I’ve been both the gifted kid, seemingly effortlessly breezing through classes and befriending the entire faculty while secretly going through terrible struggle and stress, and the kid desperately trying to game my way through a system built to harm me while being furious at those who seem to thrive in it, and I can’t help but feel empathy for both. I don’t think the Rat Grinders are evil, cheating monsters who plan to destroy the Bad Kids out of spite. I think they’re just kids in a harmful toxic school system that have a lot of righteous anger at their lot in life, that has sadly been misdirected. Idk if this ramble made sense, sorry for the wall of text!

Edit:Introducing Ivy Embra, the first Rat Grinder to actually be antagonistic to anyone in any way! Also introducing Oisin Hakivar, a super nice guy who’s willing to take advantage of his generational wealth in order to help a fellow student! So the first Rat Grinder to actively be nice to someone too! He likely did something with the ice mephits, but he still seemed genuinely sympathetic and helpful to Adaine!

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #d20 #fantasy high junior year #fh:jy #fhjy spoilers #fhjy #rat grinders #kipperlilly copperkettle #ruben hopclap #idk if this made sense #mary ann skuttle #ivy embra #oisin hakinvar

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ohbabydollie · 4 months

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another teacher!schlatt idea: letting his class do “literary hot take” powerpoints, and they all go a little like this:

“why algernon is just oscar wilde’s fanfic insert”

“clueless is better than jane austen’s ‘emma’”

“even mr. schlatt has more rizz than shakespeare”

he let the underclass men that had a few weeks left to do a silly little project and present at the end of the school year, just for fun but also needing to be decently educational related, so they got their “literary hot takes” project, mostly a completion grade.

he was slightly nervous as he gave next to no requirements besides n 1. powerpoint, n 2. related to literature in some way and n 3. don’t make it boring (i have to sit through over 50 of these)

and the students had fun with this one, making the most out of pocket titles, the worst topics known to mankind, etc.

some of the worst include “how 9/11 is to be blamed for the downfall of literacy” “shakespeare if he was alpha male rizzlord gyatt level 100” “why i believe we should have the vamp kids and furries reenact twilight for next years autumn school play” “why fanfiction should be considered literature within school (unban a03, wattpad and tumblr)”

and more titles that he considered to be absolute brain rot that he enjoyed watching, but his favorite was from the kid who always turned in their assignments late, never bothering to turn them in on the exact day they’re do, always a day or two after. they had gotten their assignment done in class the day it was assigned, fixing and making it look nice within the next few classes.

schlatt was curious as to what they would create until he saw them putting up their presentation, “why mr. schlatt has more rizz than shakespeare”

schlatt just expected a bs sort of assignment, maybe half assed from them, but instead they presented a powerpoint so well written that he was almost in shock

he was intently listening and even clapped when it was done

it had everything from what was known about your meeting with him to being caught in public with you, with things he had said in quotes, dates and the comparison to shakespeare was absolutely magnificent. well written, well made, it was an 11/10, he absolutely loved it.

when the day was done he went to your room and showed you the powerpoint

yeah that kid definitely got extra credit

#schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #jschlatt fluff #schlatt fluff

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wands-natsthing · 8 days

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Teacher's Pet

This story was on my old acct @wandanatsthings I made a new one (aka this one) which will be the acct I use from now on.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

No one: what do you think about at 4 am?

Me: ☟︎☟︎☟︎☟︎☟︎☟︎☟︎☟︎☟︎☟︎

Honestly just thinking about high school English teacher Wanda x senior in high school reader (18 of course).

The way you visit her class room everyday during your lunch period and how she would always have food for you cause you’d never remember to bring your own and she hates to see her little pet go hungry. How you’d always try and stay after school to get her to help you with an English assignment that we all know you could very well do on your own but you just love spending time with her and would do whatever it took just to see the smile she would give anytime you answered something correctly. When it was your class period. you would act like the perfect little teacher's pet. Always answering her questions, turning your work in on time, doing the extra credit, bringing things to the office for her, not being afraid at all to tell kids to be quiet if they were talking while she was. Or how after everyone would leave the classroom you would be sure to stay behind and try to sneak little kisses before her next class. You would also be sure to arrive early every class and help her with any leftover papers that needed grading. You would do anything for her and she knew it. What could you say? You were her perfect little teacher's pet.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

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leeofthevoid · 7 months

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Cold-Blooded Beings- Part 1

Farleigh Start x Reader

a/n: Hey guys this is a multi-chapter thing, a little series I suppose and I'm excited to map it out. Hello! Had a few comments that wanted it changed to Y/N and I got you! Please let me know if I missed a few but I tend to not use the assigned name I did before. Just tell me if you guys also want some name specific Fic for you so I can make one shots! Big thanks to the people who pointed good stuff out!

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol, Strong language

Word Count: 1777

|| Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Money Makes The World Go Wild

Oxford was a dream come true. It was so difficult to actually get into the school without the help of your family’s wealth and earn your place, it was rewarding to finally get into it.

It wasn’t until dinner time when you felt big arms wrap itself around your shoulders while you ate. “Look who we have here. N/N L/N.” What the hell? This voice was unrecognizable. What does this guy want with you? “I’m sorry um…Did I do something wrong?” The man looked confused and chuckled. “Y/N , it’s me Felix? Felix Catton? Cry Baby Fee?”

You jolted back in surprise and your face turned from a slight scowl to surprise. You didn’t hesitate to jump and wrap your arms around him. “Fee! Holy shit you’re so big now! I barely recognized you!” You both laugh heartily as you pour out your happiness in the embrace. “How I miss you, I miss you so.” You pulled back to pepper his face with kisses and finally sat back down on your seat, huge smiles still plastered on your faces. “You’re so big now Fee! I can’t believe you’re the same little boy I had to carry when you scraped your knees.” Felix cringed slightly at the story but still smiled his heart out. “Well yeah, I’m not the little boy Catton you used to know. It’s so nice to see you N/N. Venetia would be so happy know you go here.” You pause and look around the dining hall looking around for the other Catton sibling. “Speaking of, where is she?” Felix leaned on the table and sighed, “Went to Cambridge in fear that I would ‘ruin’ her university experience.” It was so like Venetia to say that and you admired how they seemed to barely change.

You ended up talking through dinner time about how you got into Oxford the way your family always went in. Felix teasing you about your strict family. How you both grew through the years and realized how you missed each other’s presence ever since your father threw you to Switzerland to attend boarding school after your last summer in Saltburn. You both exchanged numbers and a promise to Felix that you will for sure hangout with him and his friends. With a goodbye embrace that was too long for other people, you parted ways.

It was hard being a Teacher’s assistant. When you settled after a few months into your summer term, your professor offered for you to help him tutor his students which you gladly agreed to for extra credit. You were now stuck in the room with Mr. Ware, this shy scholar kid named Oliver Quick, and another empty seat that the other student seemed to miss every session. It’s their fifth absence now. Oliver was in the middle of reading his essay out loud when you decided to take a quick bathroom break, waking up your professor in the process to at least pay attention to the poor guy. After a few minutes out, you’re met with a new person chatting with the tutor and Oliver sits back quietly. You got a better view of the new presence and saw a nice head of curly hair, fashionable clothes, and…No way. “Farleigh?”

Oliver and Farleigh look up at you from the door and his eyes widen. “ Oh my god N/N!” He stood up and scooped you in a tight hug. Man, these Cattons sure love their hugs. “I thought Felix was fooling us when he mentioned a special childhood friend in Oxford.” He gently puts you down and backs away to sit next to Oliver again.

“My, my. A L/N and a Catton? Oliver, you have quite the company.” Your Professor stated. You saw Oliver slowly back up in his chair more, feeling a tinge of pity for the guy. “Let’s start over, Sir. I believe we all have limited time.” You chime in. You all sat down and proceeded to listen to the essays Oliver was abruptly cut off. His work was too robotic and a little…Boring? You can’t help but try to wake the other two people up from time to time to at least alleviate the embarrassment Oliver had. When Oliver finally finished, you cleared your throat, signaling for Farleigh and Mr. Ware to at least look alive. Mr. Ware shared his thoughts and you did too, “I believe there was a lack of something in it, Oliver. I’m sure you’ll be able to revise it better so don’t worry too much.” Farleigh snorted at your kindness and blatantly told him the truth. It was a tensioned back and forth that you’d much rather not be apart of but what can you do? Farleigh was right but so was Oliver, you looked at Mr. Ware and he simply shook his head. “So! We had quite the session today, lads. Oliver, please take note of the changes Ms. L/N will send you, and Farleigh please write your essay too. Um…Send anonymous regards to your mum too please?” Farleigh winks at him and gives you a kiss on the cheek before he leaves the room. Oliver soon made a beeline out of the room and you followed after getting a few tasks from Mr. Ware.

After a few days, you came across Oliver walking alone through the courtyard. “Hey, Oliver!” He quickly looked around for the source and saw you waving at him. “Oliver! Fancy meeting you around and not in the office.” You smiled at him as you put out your hands out to shake. He took it and gave you a shy smile, “Ollie is alright. Y/N right?” You nodded. “So sorry about Farleigh, he always had a sharp tongue ever since we were kids, can I buy you a few drinks to apologize?”

“No, no, c’mon now Y/N it’s not your fault. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to. I don’t need a reason to treat a friend out?” You smiled at him as he fiddled with his jacket deep in thought. “I suppose you it wouldn’t be bad…” You smiled again “See you later at the pub then. You know where right? Bring your friends Ollie!” Oliver hurriedly walked away with a small bounce of excitement as you slowly backed away bumping into something…Or someone. “Running a charity case, love?” Farleigh chuckled. You look up at him and roll your eyes with a slight smile. “Don’t be mean Far, I just thought he was a decent person to befriend.”

“And where is Farleigh’s invite then?” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you both walked. “Since when did you grow so mean? I remember you jumping up and down whenever I complimented you more than Felix.” Farleigh groaned at the memory as you laughed. “You know, being the oldest out of all of us had its perks, such as carrying both you and Fee when you were both so tiny! I felt so big next to you! Now look at you towering over me.”

“N/N, you sound like an old lady reminiscing about her children’s lives, I don’t miss that at all. If you’re coming to the pub with that bore of a person, come by at our table yeah? I’d hate for you to be lonely.” You chuckled as he kissed your cheek to walk off into who knows what.

The pub had a really good atmosphere for a place swarmed with people in their early twenties dying to have some semblance of relief from school. You would even argue that The King of Arms was a decent place to have a date, even dressed nicely to appease the people you’ll hangout with. One problem is that you never anticipated the fact that Oliver could probably have no friends. Well, he had one, Michael, but the thing about Michael is he seemed to be so absorbed in his genius that he never did care to let you or Oliver talk. As much as you appreciate the boys not ogling at you with the usual stares you get from wearing provocative clothing, it was kind of pathetic that they didn’t at least compliment you perhaps?

You excused yourself to get another round of drinks, on you of course. It kind of put you in a bit of a damper mood when Michael didn’t even acknowledge it, at least Oliver did but it still sucked. You approached the Barkeeper to bring you three pints of Pale Ale which he kindly nodded to. “What’s a pretty lady like you doing with losers like them?” You chuckled and looked up at the figure slowly sliding their hand on your waist. “Farleigh.” You lightly warned with a smile, “Cut them some slack. It’s probably their first time going out with people. I was like that when I started my summer term.” Farleigh simply rolled his eyes at your kindness thinking it was stupid. You notice how he seemed to still tower over you and that was something since you weren’t exactly short, five foot ten to be exact. You even had heels on for goodness sake! When did this small tiny boy grow so tall?

You snap out of your trance when the door dings. You turned and saw Michael’s retreating figure, turned and checked the table you were occupying and found no signs of Oliver. Great, you just got ditched. “So…About my offer?” Farleigh’s tone was teasing and you can’t help but give in. With a sigh and a defeated huff you give in. “Fine Far, you win. What about the stuff I ordered?”

He scoffs, “Thank you for buying me some, you’re a doll.” Farleigh says in a sarcastic manner, picks up the tray and brings it to the table while dragging you with him. You notice Oliver’s shy figure sitting beside Felix as Farleigh pulls a chair out for you. Paying no mind to the boy who just walked out of your table, you greeted everyone with a cheery expression even earning some wolf whistles from the guys sitting with you. “Y/N will apparently buy two rounds of drinks for us.” Farleigh teases. Everyone cheered making you roll your eyes at him. At least you get to use that allowance your dad finally said you earned.

After some time on the table, it still pissed you off that Oliver ditched you, he even avoided eye contact with you while talking to Felix. It’s alright, everything will be okay and you should just let this instance slide, you say to yourself. It was just an apology drink from Farleigh’s mean outburst and the subject of the event was right next to you making out with a girl on his other side. Don’t you just love university?

#farleigh x reader #farleigh start #saltburn movie #saltburn fics #saltburn #felix catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #farleigh x you

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cuteitgirlinspos · 1 year

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౨ৎ How to romanticize this school year 🎀

I know school might be tiring , boring , or even scary , so here are some ways to romanticize this school year , next school year , and all the future school years to come

౨ৎ Stretch in the morning and drink water , usually when we wake up for school most of us don’t wanna get out of our bed and are extremely tired or drained out due to either waking up early or not getting enough sleep from last night 🎀 , so it is very important to stretch doing some poses you already know or watch videos on YouTube that are abt 5 - 10 mins depending on how much time u have , drinking water is also good for your skin and fastens your metabolism it will also hydrate you in the morning which can lessen how tired you were when you woke up . 🧚🏽‍♀️

౨ৎ sleep early , I know this might be very hard for some people because of the amount of things that they have to do , but you can limit the amount of time u take to do those things and take naps or sleep around 8 - 10 MAX , sleeping around these times are more healthy than sleeping around 12 pm or 3 am in the morning , your body needs the most rest it can get to keep it going 🎀

౨ৎ Please be yourself in school , many people tend to want to fit in and change themselves bc of what other people think , what their friend group says , or even how the internet influenced them to behave , you don’t have to change your behavior / personality just to fit in a group / area , real friends / loved ones will love you the way you are 💗🎀 .

౨ৎ Don’t disrespect teachers for no reason at all please 😭😭 , many teachers don’t get paid enough for dealing with kids all day long , make sure you’re being respectful to them and being nice / positive , one way you can do that is by simply greeting them good morning everyday or saying bye to them everyday .

౨ৎ PLEASE try on your grade , obsessing over your grade isn’t good either you don’t have to be sad / mad at yourself bc you didn’t get a 100% remember that everyone isn’t perfect , although you should try and bump your grades or try to be better at the subject you’re struggling with , when teachers notice you try your best in class they most likely bump your grade or try to give u extra credit even if you got a low grade . 🎀

౨ৎ Don’t start drama for no reason , trust me it’s not worth it ; you can get in trouble and that can be draining always try and be positive if someone else is being negative , rude , or annoying ; ignore them or don’t talk to them ; don’t try to engage with bad conversations with them to also get YOU in trouble , if you’re a good student and you barley get in trouble your teachers might let you go or not pay attention to it the first or 2nd time u get in trouble . 🤗

౨ৎ I can not stretch this enough , PLEASE organize your things , being organized can make school less stressful for you since you know where all your things are ! it’s much more easier than stressing when you need a notebook / paper / or an assignment and you can’t find it , an app that can help you be organized is notion ; using notion can track your to do’s like if you finished an assignment , need help with something , and be organized in general 🎀 .

౨ৎ Don’t be nasty , most people like me don’t like to hang around people who smell bad or do disgusting things , stick to a scent that smells good ; you don’t need a bunch of perfume sprayed all over you unless you have 2 or more perfumes mixed together that smells heavenly 😋 , PLEASE use deodorant and brush your teeth TWICE a day that way you can be clean and healthy , also take a shower everyday there’s no point of missing a shower be clean . 🎀

#coqeutte #barbie #aesthetic #school #back to school #summer #romantizing school #romantize your life #pink pilates princess #pink pilates girl #tips #study tips

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

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The Odyssey | Prologue | Bradley Bradshaw (18+)

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Bradley wakes up in a foul mood, your ego takes a hit. A deal is struck to ensure that you’ll be able to graduate.

warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), will be smut, virgin reader, swearing, infidelity. warnings to be added on a chapter by chapter basis. 18+ minors dni, wc: 3.1k

…

Nine weeks into Spring semester, six to go. Six more weeks of having scalding coffee, missing tastebuds and a fucking freshman girl ranting into his ear all before the clock even hits 8am. Bradley’s sunglasses sit perfectly across the bridge of his nose, gold-framed Ray-Ban caravans that hide how late he was up last night. This means that sweet, little freshman Bettie O’Riley can’t see the look that he’s giving her as she jogs along to keep up with him.

Hallowed halls, filled with young adults that either reek of cheap beer or Daddy’s money, all signs would suggest that Bradley isn’t supposed to be here. Only thirty-three, sitting at that awkward age that makes him neither a frat boy nor a balding tenured ex-businessman turned lecturer. And yet, his brown leather shoes hit these aged floors every morning on the way to his first class of the day.

Beige, almost cream-coloured, wide pleated dress pants and an untucked blue shirt, rolled up at his forearms and missing the top button. His messenger bag draped from his shoulder, his tie balled into the hand holding the to-go double shot espresso.

Six more weeks until he’s in Italy for two months, teaching during the mornings, free as a bird in the evenings. Sun on his face, limoncello on his tongue; good books, women who don’t just giggle and twirl a strand of their hair at him. History. All funded by the Cornell school of Arts and Sciences. He damn near sighs at how badly he wants to be there now.

“Bettie, I already told you,” He sighs, adjusting the gold-framed sunglasses and shooting a look down at her and her wispish black, curled bob. “I can’t curve your grade, it was a C minus.”

She speeds up and steps in front of him, walking backwards now. “Please, Professor Bradshaw. I’ll do anything.”

Professor Bradshaw rarely draws a reaction from him these days. Only his bosses and parents call him that. He makes a point of scrawling it across the chalkboard at the beginning of each semester, but he’s usually still reminding kids a couple of weeks in to just call him Bradley.

Still, both he and Bettie O’Reilly know that it isn’t her method of address that makes him scoff at her. He stops walking and pushes his sunglasses up into the feathery brown curls that adorn his face, staring down at her like she’s even younger than she is. She swallows, regret flooding her. The other professors usually lean into the kind of virginal, good-girl, bad student thing that she’s got going on.

“Bettie,” Bradley speaks slowly for her, pink lips against tanned skin. Warm eyes against a cold stare. The hallways are full around them, standing stationary in the steady stream of students. “Don’t come onto me like that again. Study.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Alright, come to my office tomorrow morning, I’ll give you an extra credit assignment,” It’s more lenient than he should be with a girl who just propositioned him before he has even finished his morning coffee, but Bradley knows not to blame little Bettie. With those thick, rounded glasses and dark freckles, he knows that she gets a lot of attention from her other professors. The culture they’ve created in this school isn’t her fault. Neither is the fact that Bradley’s class is notoriously hard to pass. “We’ll talk through what an A grade paper should be looking like. Do me a favour and don’t talk to me until then.”

He steps around her and continues; she’s swallowed instantly by the sea of bustling students. In the run up to the end of the semester, people start showing up to class again as it hits them that their professors might actually fail them. There aren’t too many F’s floating around in a school like Cornell. Its stats are exceptionally high, especially these past few years. It would seem that, in a school like Cornell, a passing grade quite simply has a price tag on it.

Three minutes before his morning class is due to start, and having woken up on the wrong side of his bed, Bradley drops his sunglasses back down over his eyes as he strolls into the lecture hall. It’s surprisingly full for a Monday morning. The gossiping never stops when he walks in — he’s not that kind of teacher. He allows the whispering to continue while he sets up his supplies.

There are six people in this room that Bradley has not seen since the first week of class. Every single one of them has a parent that is a benefactor to the university. Front and centre, surrounded by a group of excitedly whispering, well-dressed young women, there’s you. He knows you vaguely, knows that you’re coasting on high B’s. He hasn’t seen you since January, you won’t be passing this class.

“God, look at that rock!” The blonde to your side fawns, grabbing at your hand and lifting it up towards the light to get a better look. Setting his sunglasses down on the desk, Bradley looks too. There’s a silver band with a big diamond on it around your ring finger. You’re beaming. Dressed in a white turtleneck and fitted blue jeans, Bradley’s got his assumptions about the family you come from, and the family you’ll be marrying in to.

You’ve been taking his classes for the full three years that he has been teaching here. He knows your boyfriend. Malcolm something something the third. Maybe fourth. His Daddy paid for the science wing refurbishment last year. Bradley remembers the night that your Prince Charming ditched you out in the snow, drunk out of your mind. You probably don’t remember that night.

“Good morning.” His booming voice obliterates the pleasant chatter coming from your friend group. You cross one leg over the other and look downwards at the glimmering rock on your finger.

Six more weeks until you’re out of this hellhole. An apartment in Manhattan all lined up and Mac’s place with his father’s firm long confirmed by now, it’s all coming into place. You’ll have a summer wedding at the end of August, and then you’ll truly begin your life.

“Tell me all about it! Did he get down on one knee?” Veronica nudges her white tennis shoe into yours and leans across to you, tapping her pen against the white-lined page of her notebook. Between the two of you, Catherine readies herself to take down notes that you’ll copy later.

A decent string of A to B grades and a diploma, that was the agreement, and then your life is all yours. That was all your father had held you to. You hadn’t ever promised to do something with the degree he had paid for.

Why would you? — Your mother hadn’t. She had studied literature, made friends for life, and met her husband. Then, she began her life. Having her children, shopping in the afternoon, tennis on the weekends. Bliss.

“Of course he did!” You confirm eagerly, leaning over Catherine to continue the conversation.

The first five minutes of a lecture determines everything. If he loses their focus now, then he might as well leave now and take an especially early lunch. He starts off with a quick reminder of their upcoming exam, and a nod towards last week’s discussion of Roman literature.

His attention is quickly diverted to the excited whispering happening six feet from him, right in the front row. Your friends aren’t bad students. You weren’t ever a bad student. It has just become clear that you were in college to find a husband, and now you’ve found one. Bradley’s eyes narrow in on you and your preppy, little friends, giggling at the front of his class.

Exhausted, overworked and underappreciated, Bradley stares at you calmly. You conversation comes to a slow stop as an awkward air of silence fills the lecture hall. He’s just standing at the front, staring right at you, waiting for you to shut up.

“Sorry, Bradley, somebody just had some exciting news.” Catherine smiles shyly at him. He knows her the best out of the three of you. She TA’d for him last year. Great girl, really bright future — to generous when it comes to grading. It’s because of his respect for her that he doesn’t jump to humiliating you right away.

“I can see that, congratulations,” His tone is dry, broad shoulders squared, his face unamused as he looks to you. You stare back at him calmly, giving a curt nod — less than polite in your mannerisms. “Now, if those of you that still have a chance of passing this class could please turn your attention back to me, we’ll give the blushing bride her moment afterwards.”

He opens the little brown, leather bound book in his hands and clears his throat, assuming that your rude interruptions are done for the day. Somehow, the awkward silence that sits heavy in the room grows to an even deeper low after you retort.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” Bradley deadpans, bored. You squint at him, six feet between the two of you and a lifetime of differences. Unimpressed by his joke, you roll your eyes right away.

Sitting there, you cross one leg over the other and sit forwards, frowning at him. He doesn’t fit in around here and you do, perhaps that’s where his problem with you stems from. Perhaps it’s the lack of ring on his own finger. “Why would you assume that I wouldn’t pass your class?”

As much as he knows of you, you know of him too — he’s supposedly a jackass. “Because you missed half of the semester. That includes two quizzes and a term paper. There’s no way for you to achieve a salvageable grade in this class.”

When you’re around Malcolm, sometimes he says things that are just so entitled that you’re wincing before he’s even done talking. He can’t help it. He means well. With the amount of time you’ve spent at his family home in the past few weeks, it’s no wonder that words you would normally wince at are spilling from your own lips, “I was planning a wedding, what do you expect from me?”

“Attendance.” Bradley snips. He raises his eyebrows slowly, waiting for you to pack up your pretty, coordinated stationary and walk yourself out of his class.

“But—“

“Goodbye, Mrs. Ashworth. Congratulations again.” Bradley speaks harshly, calling you by a name that isn’t even yours yet like it’s an insult. Like he’s better than you, somehow.

Your pencil slams down onto the half desk in front of you, eyes ablaze. Perhaps the first time you’ve ever been told no. “If you fail me, there will be consequences.”

The silence that fills the classroom this time isn’t awkward. It’s just anticipation, baited breaths, waiting for Bradley to lose his temper. He walks a few paces closer, close enough to smell the cherry scented perfume on each of your pulse points.

His eyes darken as he dips his head just slightly, meeting your gaze. “You’ve got me shaking in my boots, honey. Now, stop wasting my time and get the fuck out of my class.”

There are certain lines that a professor does not cross when working at an Ivy League. Swearing at the daughter of someone with more lawyers than Bradley has living family members, was not his brightest idea. Still, your father is an amicable man — he keeps on saying that — and he wants to work this out. Bradley gets to keep his job, you get to graduate. Everybody wins.

“Classics majors work closely with individual professors in their areas of expertise, often in small classes, and have many opportunities for independent research and travel,” Doctor Kazansky’s voice is calm, teetering on the edge of cold. It’s growing increasingly difficult these days to put up with snotty parents and their snottier children. “I’m sure you understand why attendance would play such a strong part in succeeding in such a major.”

Bradley braces himself against the radiator, glancing down at the watch on his wrist. Real Italian leather that a girl’s grandfather had made for him a few years back. He’s missing happy hour for this circus.

“Of course I understand, Doctor Kazansky,” Your father might as well be a parrot for how well he has learned to mimic tone. You cross your legs at his side and sit up a little straighter. The way you tense up at his voice is so routine, it’s almost Pavlovian. Bradley watches wordlessly. “Just like I’m sure that you understand that in this university’s hundred year history, it has never failed a member of my family and my daughter will not be the one to tarnish our impeccable reputation here.”

You glance up quickly, catching the look on Bradley’s face. He squints disapprovingly at your Charles Dickens villain of a father.

“What can she do to bring her grade up?”

Now that, admittedly, does come as a surprise. This isn’t the first meeting that Bradley has been called into where someone’s parent demands a better grade. It is the first where he hasn’t seen them resort to bribery before they finally blame their kid.

“She missed over half the semester,” Bradley answers perhaps too quickly, still hot from the way you had spoken to him earlier. He gives a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders and looks at your father rather than you. “Two quizzes and a term paper. Even if I gave her extra credit, she couldn’t pull her average above a D.”

Your father’s face doesn’t react at all to this information. Instead, he turns his attention back to the Dean and rests his hands on the armrests of the chair, slowly raising his eyebrows.

“What about the Italy trip?” Doctor Kazansky looks to Bradley, sitting back in his chair. Bradley stares blankly back at him. “There were two empty spaces from what I remember. Is that correct?”

“For research assistants,” Bradley’s tongue drips venom, his brown eyes dark and his arms folded across his chest. You narrow your eyes at him, knowing that an insult is coming next. “She can’t research what she doesn’t even understand.”

“But, if she were to complete extra credit for the rest of the semester and then accompany you for your research, she would have enough credits to pass your class and then graduate.” Doctor Kazansky explains, more for your father’s benefit than Bradley’s. Bradley already knows this.

He grits his teeth, eyes darting across to you. His only solace is that you look just as dismayed about the proposal as he does.

“I’d graduate late.” You point out.

“Better than not at all,” Your father intercepts, pushing his chair back and standing. He carries himself like a man much taller than he really is. “Thank you, Doctor Kazansky. We’ll be in touch about this research opportunity.”

“You can’t just choose to do it, there’s an application process.” Bradley’s tone is far from professional, it’s downright snarky by this point. He doesn’t care. He can’t imagine anything worse than lugging a brat like you around Italy with him for two months, just for you to fail anyway.

You stand to follow your father, ditsy white loafers on the dark oak of Doctor Kazansky’s office floor. Bradley remains where he is, leaning back against that wall with his arms crossed.

Your father smiles across at Bradley and then shoots a look back towards the Dean. It’s smug, knowing. That process doesn’t apply to him. “We’ll be in touch.”

There’s a final look shared between you and the oaf that just cost you your summer in Manhattan — the first time that the two of you have agreed on anything, a silent exchange. Neither one of you wants you to join him on that trip.

He watches you leave, following blindly after your father like a child, then whips his head around to his boss.

“It’ll be good for her, maybe you can actually teach her something.”

“My expertise unfortunately lacks when it comes to setting the table by seven sharp and getting the kids to bed before her husband makes it home.” Bradley scoffs, pushing himself away from the wall and shaking his head as he straightens up.

“Is there something offensive to you about a woman being a homemaker, Professor Bradshaw?” Thomas Kazansky has two daughters. One, is a wife with two beautiful children of her own. The other, is a doctor. Bradley’s been over to their house a few times and he knows that Tom makes a point of it to be equally proud of them both.

“Oh, give me a break,” Bradley rolls his eyes at the notion, despite the subtle truth it holds. He shakes his head. “She deserves to fail and you know it.”

“Well, we’ll see how she does at the end of summer. I’ll be the first to admit my defeat, if she fails.” Tom gives a small smile and a shrug of his shoulders, always too calm for his own hood these days. Apparently he has mellowed with time, Bradley hears that he used to have quite an attitude in his early career.

Pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek, the younger professor tries to stare his boss down. Tom knows how much these trips mean to Bradley, he takes his work so seriously. Still, Tom just stares back at him, calm.

Squinting, it takes a few moments for Bradley to give up. He turns and growls in frustration, letting the door to Doctor Kazansky’s office slam behind him. His shoes echo through the halls as he storms out of the building and across the quad. Not even Bettie O’Reilly would dare to interrupt his when his face looks as stormy as it does now.

He shrugs his bag off of his shoulder and throws it into the back of the bronco, then shoves his hands into his pockets in search of his keys.

“Do you even understand how hard I have worked for you to have the opportunities that you have had?”

Bradley glances up. He isn’t surprised to find that you’re the one being yelled at. He almost snorts — good, it’s about time someone reigned in that attitude of yours.

You stand, tearful, at the side of your father’s expensive Porsche, your head bowed in shame. Bradley unlocks his truck and pulls himself into the driver’s seat. He figures you probably cry a lot when someone’s telling you no.

“I mean it! — If you ruin this opportunity, don’t even think about coming back. Hopefully Malcolm’s family like you, because they’ll be all that you’ve got, I swear.”

Bradley turns his head slowly. Swallowing to keep from sobbing in the parking lot, shame burns through you as you meet his gaze. Your father towers over you, demanding to know if you’re even listening to him.

Bradley turns the engine on, his brown eyes looking decidedly less scary when he isn’t glaring at you. There’s something else. Maybe it’s pity — you aren’t used to that. He turns his head away and reverses out of the spot.

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @sunflowerziva @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @bradshawseresinbabe @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @sheisanangell

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw x reader

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theragethatisdesire · 1 year

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much ado about nothing chapter 3 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

finally!!!!!!!!!! finally all the tension has led to something.....well, some of the tension, anyway. you and eren are both idiots in denial, but you're horny idiots in denial, which makes all the difference. hope y'all have your a/c on, bc it's about to get hot in here.

corny jokes aside, pls enjoy chapter 3 of plug!eren and get ready to get steamy (finally!!!! sorry for holding out on you<3333)

miss the first couple chapters? find the series masterlist HERE

specific cws: smut, nasty nasty smut. mentions of drugs/alcohol. use of pet names, squirting, oral (fem!receiving), eren being a cute little shit

“That’s a fair thought to lie between maids’ legs.” - Hamlet by William Shakespeare (Act III, Scene 2)

You make your way through your weekly routine, but Eren follows you everywhere you go. You see him in the dark-haired man two rows over in the library, the smell of weed walking down fraternity row, in the kissing couple sitting on the campus’ main water fountain. It doesn’t help that Historia won’t shut up about him, scolding you day and night for not bringing him to your bed that night.

Part of you agrees with her, but another, more sinister part of you relishes in the denial of it all, the hot anticipation that courses through you each time he sends you a cheeky text about nothing. You promised yourself one fuck, one good, long fuck, and you were leaving him in the dust, and you weren’t going to rush to get it out of your way.

You’re busy anyway, heading over to The 104th Bean, the campus coffee spot, on quick feet to make it in time to the study group you were hosting for a few of your students. You didn’t think the sonnets you’d assigned for this week were too complex, but a good chunk of them were struggling with the meter of the lines. It was the least you could do to offer them an opportunity for one-on-one help, and in lieu of an office, 104 was the best spot to get it done.

“Hi guys,” you breeze in, breathless and slamming a stack of papers down on the table your students have gathered at, “sorry I’m a little late.”

“We just got here,” Falco, a precious, blonde wisp of a kid smiles brightly up at you, “and we went ahead and got you a coffee. It’s still hot.”

“Aw, thank you guys,” you gratefully accept the paper cup he offers you. It’s your favorite brew, and you raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Which one of you figured out my coffee order?”

“All of us,” Gabi shrugs, “you bring the same thing to class literally every day.”

“We have a whole thing about it in the group text,” Zofia wiggles her phone at you.

“I might need to offer some extra credit.” You take a sip, closing your eyes at the blissful feeling of caffeine rushing into your half-conscious brain. You jump straight into the material, deciding to tackle the sonnets one by one, line by line until they’ve all made perfect sense to your little group of college kids. They’re all smart, evidenced by the way they question their way to the answer before you can give it, and in their defense, some of the sonnets you pulled have been from your graduate classes. You spend the next hour working through everything with them, a welcome reprieve from sitting alone in front of your laptop, tugging at your hair.

“I…um, need to go to the restroom,” Gabi checks her phone and stands suddenly, looking frantic. You frown, but wave her off in the direction of the bathroom, making a mental note to send Zofia after her if she didn’t return soon.

After a few minutes have passed, Gabi sits back at the table, looking much calmer than when she’d left. You don’t make any note of it, until a tall figure catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. You’re positive that it’s your mind playing tricks on you like it has been all week, until you hear a familiar timbre calling your name.

Eren’s sullen mouth widens into that heartstopping, crooked grin as he walks over to wrap his arms around you in a hug that makes your knees weak. “What are you doing here?”

“Study group,” you gesture at your students, noticing that Gabi’s blushing heavily and pointedly avoiding eye contact with both of you. Ah. “Working?”

Eren glances at Gabi and looks at his shoes. “Nah, just needed a coffee.”

“Uh-huh,” you roll your eyes. He’s not even holding a cup, and you’re not buying his story for a second. As her professor, you should scold Gabi for buying drugs which are definitely banned on campus, but considering that you’re plotting to get into her dealer’s pants, you figure that might be a tad hypocritical.

“You didn’t text me back last night,” Eren pokes a finger into your ribs playfully. You’re well-aware of your students’ eyes boring into your back, watching intently as their professor’s personal life spills into their study session. Great material for the group text.

“I knocked out! You know I’m busy.”

“Too busy to reply to my memes about Jujutsu Kaisen?” Eren cocks an eyebrow.

“Apparently so. I woke up with my phone still unlocked and stuck to my face.” That draws a laugh out of him.

“Okay fine,” Eren concedes, “but if you’re not going to pay attention to my very funny memes over text, then you’ll have to check them out in person.”

“Eren,” you hiss, flicking your head in the direction of your suspiciously-silent students, “Would it kill you to behave?” Eren scoffs.

“They’re not listening. What about tonight? We can watch a movie or something.”

Watch a movie. You want to inform him that each one of those students is very much listening to him shamelessly flirt with you, students that absolutely know what “watch a movie” is code for. Especially Gabi, who knows exactly what Eren’s occupation is from experience and will likely be all too thrilled to inform her classmates that you’re banging her hot drug dealer. Simply getting Eren to leave is probably your best bet at retaining any shred of respect your students hold for you.

You can’t resist teasing him a little first. “Is that what an old man does on a Friday night? Watch movies?”

“Mikasa’s covering some clients for me,” Eren admits, “if you come over, that is.”

“I think I’m free tonight,” you scan through your lengthy list of obligations in your head, trying to ignore the way your heart flutters as you realize he’s already gone out of his way to cover work and give you both your alone time, “as long as you don’t mind if I bring some quizzes over with me. I still have my 9:00 am’s to grade.”

“Can I help?” Eren’s eyes light up, childlike and excited.

“You don’t even know the answers.”

“Straight As for everyone,” Eren smiles, changing his tune when you shoot him a look, “straight Fs, then?”

“It won’t take me long, twenty minutes tops, and then you can pester me with all the memes you want. Deal?”

“You got it, teach.” Eren’s tone is suggestive enough to make your face warm, and you shoo him away from the table of young adults that you literally must remain respectable in the eyes of. Eren bids you goodbye with a wink that goes straight to the warmth pooling between your legs. You allow yourself one deep breath to regain your composure, turning back to your students with a wide, nervous smile.

“Sorry about that, guys.”

“Is that your boyfriend?” Zofia flinches when Gabi kicks her under the table with a loud bang.

You hesitate. No, just the hot guy I have no business getting wrapped up with that I’m going to let fuck me stupid later. “Just a friend.”

“He seemed pretty into you to be just a friend,” Falco teases.

“Do you want to fail your next three tests?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he balks, turning back to his notebook with a mumbled apology. You don’t miss the way Gabi’s looking at you, something between embarrassment and curiosity on her face. You can’t blame her; you’re not far enough in age from your students to be completely out of touch, and if you found out one of your professors had been sleeping with someone as deliciously dangerous as Eren, you would have been all over spreading that rumor.

Friends with someone like Eren, you correct yourself in your mind, remembering that you haven’t slept together, not quite yet. Tonight’s apparently the night, though, and your chest is tight with anticipation. It’s all you can do to pull yourself together and make it through the day, breaking out in a cold sweat when Eren shoots you a reminder text to head to his place around 7:00.

“Oh you’re getting laid. You’re so getting laid!” Historia squeals excitedly through your phone speaker. “I never thought this day would come!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you say, letting the sarcasm drip freely from your voice. Your nervous hands had started shaking in your pockets as you rode down the elevator shaft to embark on the twelve-minute walk to Eren’s, so you had Facetimed Historia for a distraction. All you had gotten in return so far, however, was a whole bunch of shrieking.

“You just second guess yourself too much,” Historia says, shaking the camera, “let loose, live a little like we used to.”

“Living like we used to is what had me crying in the shower over a frat boy every two weeks, remember?”

“Eren’s not like that,” Historia dismisses you, “and honestly, he seems into you.”

“He invited me over to come fuck in broad daylight, so yeah, Stor, I’d say he’s fairly into me.”

“Not like that, like actually into you. I’ve never seen him get all touchy with anyone like he did the other night. Plus, he drove you home, which was super sweet.”

Oh, calling Historia was a mistake. Big mistake. That’s the last thought you need in your mind on your way to your one-and-done, already being a repeat offender for catching feelings from basically nothing. Eren’s too volatile to play with, too charming, and if you’re not careful, you’ll fall right into a trap he probably doesn’t even know he’s setting for you.

“I don’t know,” Ymir chimes in from somewhere off-camera, “guys will do a whole bunch of shit to get laid. Probably doesn't mean anything.”

“You’re literally a lesbian, Ymir, shut up,” Historia snips. You raise an eyebrow.

“Do the words ‘pot’ and ‘kettle’ have any meaning to you?”

Historia rolls her eyes. “Ymir’s like, allergic to penises, don’t listen to her. I, on the other hand, have a million guy friends and, with no emotional or sexual interference in my male-female relationships, I have learned to read them like books. Deny it all you want, but he’s totally got a little crush on you.”

“This is the last thing I need to hear,” you groan, “he’s too pretty for me to think he has a crush on me. We’re fucking just this one time, and then I’m done with him.”

“Sure,” Historia smirks knowingly, “I’m sure Sasha’s roommate said that too.”

“And they never dated either, so that’s on her for breaking her own rule.” You’re pushing back a little too hard to be described as anything but defensive, you know it, but a small, wavering flicker of hope in your chest wants Historia to keep going, wants her to be right. Because Eren’s dreamy, makes you want to kick your feet and twirl your hair like a schoolgirl, and if anything actually came of this, you wouldn’t be the one to say no.

However, you’re heading over for a meaningless, one-time fuck, so feelings need to be pushed to the back of your mind.

“You’re never any fun,” Historia pouts.

“Two days ago I drank an entire bottle of wine with you for zero reason other than the fact that you wanted to get drunk and cry to Taylor Swift. That’s plenty of fun.”

“She does that to you, too?” Ymir commiserates, still off-camera.

“Okay, it’s Eren-talk time, not shit-on-Historia time,” Historia huffs, blowing a strand of blonde out of her eyes. A notification pops up on your phone: destination in 200ft.

“Oh my god, I’m almost there,” you practically moan, covering your face with your hand, “what if he does have a massive dick and it like, impales my uterus or something?”

“No dick talk!” Ymir snaps. Historia shushes her.

“Relax, for every rumor about a guy’s dick, you have to knock, like, two inches off what you hear. Trust me.”

“What if I choke on it and throw up on him?”

“I’ve seen you deepthroat an entire banana without batting an eye,” Historia pulls a knowing face.

“What if this whole thing is a prank and Ashton Kutcher pops out and they’ve somehow started up a Punk’d remake that I don’t know about–”

“Then you get a selfie with Ashton Kutcher and call it a day,” Historia laughs, “you’re working yourself up way too much. Remember when you used to be a slut and do this, like, five times a week?”

“Jesus,” you hear Ymir mutter.

“Thanks, Stor. Thanks so much.”

“No, but seriously. Eren might be hot and funny or whatever else you like about him, but he’s just a guy. You are also hot and funny and totally a catch, you’ve got the upper hand here!”

“Ugh,” you stop a few feet from Eren’s drive, knowing you would fully die if he overheard you gossiping about him on the phone. “I’m here. Let me just get this over with, and I’ll see you at home later.”

“Yeah, when Eren answers the door, try to sound a little more excited that you’re going to get laid and less like you’re going to your execution,” Historia traces a smile onto her cheeks with a pink fingernail, “good luck!”

“Use a condom!” Ymir pipes up just as the call ends.

You look over at Eren’s house, cute and squat with its little red door, and trudge up the sidewalk before you can lose your nerve. You wince at the tremors shaking your fist as you knock, wanting to run away or throw up or disappear–

“Hey,” Eren answers the door with a broad grin. You eye his gray sweatpants, essentially straight woman kryptonite, and gulp. He knows too much.

“Hey,” you force a smile, letting him beckon you inside. It smells…very nice. Not as boyish as it should. You take note of the candle burning on the coffee table with a little smile.

“Want anything to snack on? I have popcorn, stuff for quesadillas, cosmic brownies…” Eren’s eyes twinkle at the last suggestion. You’re not surprised; he seems like the type to have an insatiable sweet tooth.

“I ate before I came over, but thanks anyway,” you say, fiddling with the zipper on your jacket. Eren takes note of your twitchy hands, raises an eyebrow at you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say automatically, embarrassed that he’s caught you flustered. He’s just a guy. “It’s…okay, it’s honestly just been awhile.”

You expect him to laugh or tease you, but Eren just smiles that stupid fucking canine-heavy, disarming smile. “We’re just chilling, okay? No sweat.”

“No sweat,” you repeat, admittedly feeling a little better now that you’ve gotten it out. Eren’s new to you, still unfamiliar and full of surprises, but for some odd reason, you trust him. There’s something comfortable and steady in his casual confidence that eases your nerves and ignites a pounding in your heart all at once.

“So, I was thinking Texas Chainsaw,” Eren goes on like you hadn’t just shared a little moment in the hallway, flopping onto the couch, “but if you’re not into horror, I’d be down for Pineapple Express.”

The irony’s so blatant it’s almost not funny.

“So, the drug dealer wants to watch Pineapple Express?” You plop down beside him, relieved that he’s drawn you to the living room as opposed to his bedroom. Sure, you feel better, but you know one look at Eren’s bed would ignite a fresh wave of nerves. Eren rolls his eyes as you poke fun at him.

“It’s a classic!”

“For seventeen-year-old stoners, definitely. What about Grease? That’s a classic.”

Eren lolls his head on your shoulder, pretending to snore. You smack his face lightly, still giggling under your breath, and he fakes jumping awake, shaking his head. “Sorry, I dozed off. Boring.”

“Okay, fine, let’s just do your horror movie,” you sigh, knowing that if everything goes according to plan, you won’t be stuck watching the movie for long. “I’ve never seen that one, and isn’t it sort of a pillar of the scary movie realm?”

Eren pauses his thumb on the remote to gape at you. “You’ve never seen Chainsaw Massacre? Like, ever?”

“Nope.”

“Holy shit. Prepare yourself to be educated,” Eren mumbles disbelievingly under his breath, finding the movie quickly and standing to turn the lamps in the room off, leaving nothing but the cozy glow of string lights and the TV. “Ready?”

You snuggle into his side, letting him pull you close enough to feel his chest rise and fall under your face. “Ready.”

The movie doesn’t hold your attention, too caught up in Eren’s embrace to pay much attention to the plot. He’s got one arm around your shoulders, hand dangling down far enough that you can reach your hand up to play with his large fingers. It’s comfortable, probably a little too comfortable for a quick fuck, but you’re content, trying your best to focus on the film until he makes his move.

“M’bored,” Eren says abruptly, after not even thirty minutes.

“You picked this movie,” you argue, peering up to look at him. He’s feigning a pout, but there’s something mischievous glittering in his eyes.

“Yeah because I thought you’d scream,” he says, shrugging, “but for someone who didn’t want to watch a scary movie, you don’t seem very scared.”

“I’m not screaming because it’s predictable.”

“You’ve never even seen it, you should be screaming.”

“You need a horror movie to make me scream?” You’re tired of the games, confidence restored as you remember just how badly you want what you came here for. Historia was right, he’s just a guy, and you’re ready to get laid. Eren blinks for a brief second, caught off guard, but a slow, wolfish grin slowly begins to spread over his face.

“Is that what we’re doing now? Talking shit?”

You’ve dug your grave now, blood running hot with anticipation. Might as well get comfortable. “Maybe.”

Eren shifts, pulls you into his lap to straddle him chest to chest. Through your leggings, you can feel the outline of him, intimidating and hard, rubbing against your core. It draws a little gasp from you; no running from him now. “Yeah? Where’d that mean mouth go?”

You lean in, already eager to feel his lips on yours, but Eren reclines further, making you chase him.

“Cat got your tongue?” Eren chides, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Thought you wanted to be mean to me.”

“That’s not what I want.” Your voice already sounds gone, breathy and heavy in your mouth.

“What do you want then?”

“Wanna kiss you,” you admit, hating how strung out you already are, hot between your thighs and shaky in the hands. Eren smiles at you, so sweet and easy on the surface, but you can see the danger lurking behind it. He’s going to eat you alive.

Eren leans forward, leaving a chaste peck on your lips. You make a discontented sound as he pulls away. “What’s that for? Gave you what you wanted.”

“Not like that,” you play with the strings of his hoodie, not even able to look him in the eye, lest he see the unadulterated want pulsing through you, “like…”

“The other night?” Eren finishes for you, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “Been thinking about it?”

“Mhm.” He puts his hands on your hips, and you hum at the heat of his hands through your clothes. Unexpectedly, Eren pushes you down, grinds you against the erection growing in those damned sweatpants, ripping a humiliating, choked sound out of your throat. You aren’t sure what you’d expected of him, but you definitely hadn’t anticipated this level of boldness.

“Been touching yourself? Thinking about me?” Eren asks, low and expectant. You nod, hating yourself for admitting to your late night transgressions, giving into him so easily. “Good. ‘ve been doing the same thing.”

Eren swallows the little moan that spills out of your mouth, crashing into you, all teeth and tongue. He’s sloppy, far more demanding than he had been the first time around, licking into your mouth and fisting a hand into your hair. His other hand’s still hard at work, moving your hips against him, letting out little grunts when you grind down particularly hard.

“Not here, need to,” Eren pants into your mouth, trying to speak around your tongue slipping between his lips, “need to take you to my room. Is that okay? Need you to tell me now if it’s not.”

Your heart melts; you want to kick yourself for ever calling him ‘scummy’. Even in the midst of your heated moment, Eren’s eyes are blown wide, scanning over your face for any sign of hesitation.

“Please,” you purr against him, peppering his jawline with kisses and rubbing yourself on him wantonly. Eren groans deep in his chest, a sound that makes your cunt throb between your legs. That convinces him; he scoops you up, legs around his waist like you weigh nothing– god, it always strikes you just how strong he is– stumbling through the house and letting you plant sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down his throat.

You bounce on his bed when he tosses you, not even taking your eyes off of him for a moment to do a quick inventory of the room. You decide you’ll take the time to investigate afterwards, greedy for any details that might unravel the mechanisms behind the man in front of you. Eren’s practically ripping his hoodie off where he towers over you, revealing an expanse of hard muscle nestled under olive skin, random little tattoos etched into his physique here and there. You want to trace those tattoos with your tongue, feel how the skin gives under your teeth. Your jaw drops an inch or two; you reach a hand up to ghost your fingertips under the ripples of his ridiculous six-pack.

“You’re a drug dealer. What do you even need muscles like that for?”

Eren snickers, letting you have your fun for only a moment before he’s reaching down to tug your top over your head.

“I have a lot of down time, I guess. You’re one to talk anyway,” he sucks in a breath, crawling over you and forcing you back on your elbows, “I mean, just look at you.”

You bring your hands up to your face to hide where your cheeks are growing warm under his lecherous gaze, but Eren’s having none of it, pulling them above your head and securing them by the wrists.

“Ah ah ah,” he tuts, mouthing his way down your neck, “why so shy all of the sudden? Don’t hide from me now.”

“S-sorry,” you stutter, back unwittingly arching, shoving your chest closer to his eager mouth. Eren releases you to unclip your bra, slide it over your shoulders. His eyes darken even further, bright green deepening into the shade of a dark, forest floor.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” Eren mumbles, leaning down to drag his tongue over the tops of your breasts. It’s lewd, sloppy, the way he licks at you like you’re something sweet, something to be eaten, but you like it, fisting your hands in his dark hair and clutching him to your chest. Eren’s large hands palm at your tits; he takes one nipple in his mouth and you sigh contentedly as he sucks, nips at you in all the right places. “You've got the most beautiful body, baby. Feel good?”

“Yeah, feels good,” you whisper, cradling him so close you might be suffocating him, but you don’t care. There’s something akin to a Greek god licking at your tits, looking up at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, can you really help yourself?

Eren kisses down your stomach, tugging your leggings and panties down easily, propping your legs open for him. You frown, popping up on your elbows, more than ready to just get him inside of you as fast as you can at this point. What stops you is the extremely sexy noise he lets out at the sight of you, bordering on a growl.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he absentmindedly circles your clit with his thumb, dips it into your hole a few times, testing the waters.

“Eren, no– want you in me,” you pull at his shoulder pointedly, but Eren just chuckles, breath fanning over your sensitive cunt, making you jolt.

“Gotta get you ready for me, yeah?” Eren tilts his head innocently, rubbing a little faster against your clit. Your words die in your throat, nothing but a broken whimper slipping out in place of your protests. “See? Just want to taste you, know you’ll be so sweet.”

“Fine, knock yourself out,” you say, trying to appear at least slightly less wrecked than you are. Eren looks up at you, amused.

“Gonna fuck that attitude right out of you if you’re not careful.” Jesus, the mouth on him. You bite your lip, too afraid of what might come out if you dare to respond. You believe him.

Eren’s leaning in, licking through your folds lazily, no clear plan in mind, just getting a taste for you like he said he would. Somehow, even with his warning, it still catches you off guard, the hot lathing of his tongue into your center.

“Shit,” Eren groans into you, “you taste so fucking good.”

His words go straight to your pussy, and you twist your fingers in his hair shamelessly, pulling insistently. You need far more than what he’s giving. You need what you know he’s capable of.

“Where’s all that shit talking now?” Eren chuckles under his breath, the vibrations sending a fresh wave of heat through your body.

“C’mon Eren, quit fucking with me,” you pant, making the mistake of looking down. Whatever you were about to say gets lodged in your chest; Eren’s looking right back up at you, bottom half of his face tucked into your cunt and one eyebrow cocked smugly.

“Need something?”

“Your mouth, your f-fingers, please–” you’re off the deep end, feeling yourself spiral further down into Eren’s little world of hot hands and devilish lips, bottomless need threatening to swallow you whole. You’re not the begging type, but for him? You’re as good as on your knees.

“There you go,” Eren coos, sinking a long finger into your heat, crooking it just right to punch a groan from you, “can have whatever you want, baby, just gotta ask.”

His mouth closes around your clit, sucks hard just as his finger nudges into the perfect spot in your walls, that spot that makes your head spin. You’re crooning above him, muttering something about how good it feels, how you need more, putty in his experienced hands. When he slips another finger into you, picking up his rhythm, you nearly cry, tears welling in your eyes as he works you open.

“That’s– fuck, that’s so good,” you whine, fisting the sheets, his hair, your own chest, anything you can sink your claws into to keep you grounded in the moment, keep you from floating away like you feel like you’re going to. Your hips are canting up into Eren’s mouth of their own accord; you buck so violently that Eren has to throw his free arm over your stomach, locking you in place so that you have no choice but to stay and take what he’s giving you. “Eren, I–”

“Hm?” He hums against your swollen clit; you can even feel his lips stretch into a grin against you.

“Don’t stop, I’m gonna– gonna cum,” you manage, legs already beginning to shake. Every part of you feels like it’s on fire; when Eren presses his arm down a little harder on your lower abdomen, a strange, sticky heat starts building in your stomach. “Eren–”

“Come on, baby,” Eren huffs, sinking a third finger into you, stretching you impossibly wider. You’re wet enough that it doesn’t hurt, but the shock of it is enough to make you cry out. “Don’t fight it, want it so fucking bad. Let go for me.”

That’s enough to hurl you over the edge, obscene sounds spilling from you as you jerk in his hold. You’re vaguely aware of the squirt dribbling out of you, soaking the sheets, but you’re preoccupied with the earth-shattering orgasm rocking through your body, the lewd slurping sounds Eren’s making between your legs, groaning into you as you cum violently on his face. You finally begin to settle, shoving at Eren’s head and whimpering from the overstimulation.

He presses his lips to your hip bone before he comes back to you, pulling you into a filthy kiss, both of your faces drenched in your cum and sticking together. When he pulls back, you nearly cum again at the sight of your slick literally dripping from his chin.

“How was that?”

“Fine,” you pant, “just fine.”

Eren laughs, a real laugh that pulls a giggle out of you too, makes everything just a little less intense. “So you’re good?”

“I’m very good,” you grin up at him, bleary-eyed and blissed out. Eren falls back against the headboard, sitting himself up. You notice two things right off the bat: 1. that his gray sweatpants are gone and 2. that the rumor mill wasn’t lying.

His dick is massive, wide enough that your fingers wouldn’t touch if you wrapped them around it and long enough that you’re pretty sure it would slap against your belly button if you laid it just right. It’s pretty, too; flushed red tip leaking precum down his shaft in a way that makes your mouth water. Your eyes widen, apparently enough for Eren to notice.

“Quit drooling and get over here,” he chuckles, grabbing you under your arms and pulling you to his chest, forcing your legs to spread over his thighs, “wanna see you ride me first.”

“I’m not drooling,” you scowl defensively, trying to regain some of your composure after whimpering and crying for him only a minute ago. He’s just a guy, Historia’s words echo in your mind.

“Go for it, then,” Eren smirks, landing a light smack on your ass that makes you jolt. You steel your gaze against his, determined not to give him the upper hand.

You take him in your hand, slide the head through your wet folds, earn yourself a hiss from him. Shit, even the tip catching on your eager hole has an intimidating stretch to it. He wants you to sit on this thing?

Either Eren’s a mind reader, or your hesitation is written all over your face because he cups your chin, pulling you down to him for a troublingly tender kiss.

“Just a little at a time, okay?”

You’re humiliated by his encouragement, but you tuck your lip between your teeth and nod, pressing just the head into you, pride forgotten on account of the slight burn between your legs as you sink down on him.

“Oh,” you sigh, long and languid, head rolling back off of your shoulders at the stretch. Eren’s grin has fizzled out into a look of fascination, his eyes glued to where he’s splitting you open. You inch down a little further, wincing at the ache in your thighs and in your walls; he feels even bigger than he looks. Eren notices, wipes a thumb under your eye at a stray tear.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” you hiss out through your clenched jaw, “s’just…so much.”

“Doing so good for me,” Eren’s thumb returns to your clit, swiping across it softly, “does this help?”

Your answer is nothing but a heady whine as you drop down another inch or so, cunt pulsing around the welcome intrusion. Eren’s trying to comfort you, holding you tight to his chest now and murmuring little encouragements into your ear, but his voice is strained and you can feel his hips twitching, begging to buck up into you, just as unraveled as you are at this point. After what seems like eternity, you’re almost there, feeling him deep in you, nudging against your cervix, but there’s still a small space between you, one you can’t manage to close.

“I can’t, Eren,” you whimper, fucking yourself up and down on him in an effort to get that last little bit in, “won’t fit.”

“Yeah it will,” Eren simpers, taking you by the waist, “lemme help.”

Eren adjusts the way you’re sitting, leans you back just a little, and he’s right. The small space between you disappears, both of you groaning when your clit meets his stomach.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you stammer, rolling your hips against him experimentally.

“So goddamned tight,” Eren huffs, voice gruff with the strain of keeping himself under control, “so fucking perfect for me.”

You move, rocking this way and that, marveling at the way each new angle feels. Eren’s digging his teeth into his bottom lips, squeezing your hips hard enough to bruise, but he holds himself back, letting you work yourself open and get a feel for him. When you lean forward, brace your hands on his shoulders and grind your hips back, his cock nudges a spot in you that makes you see stars. You collapse onto Eren’s chest, rutting your hips into him desperately, panting.

“Right there?” Eren’s hands finally move, pulling and pushing your hips back and forth against the spot that has you mewling into his chest.

“Right there,” you gasp, feeling your orgasm building upon itself embarrassingly fast, still raw from his fingers.

“That’s right,” he grunts, moving your body against him faster, “not so mean with my dick up in you, are you?”

You mumble something unintelligible in response that would have been muffled by Eren’s shoulder between your teeth even if it had been a coherent sentence. Your eyes roll back in your head as the pressure builds, and Eren releases his grip from one of your hips to rub hard, fast circles against your clit.

“Come on,” Eren licks up your neck, “give me one more. You can do it, baby, just one more.”

And just like that, you’re cumming again, wailing into his sweaty skin as tears fill your eyes. Eren guides you through it, working your hips into a slow grind, groaning deeply in your ear as you ride it out, moving your hips along with the rhythm he’s set. He rubs circles into your back as you come down, leaving a litter of kisses along your shoulders while you tremble on top of him, nails dug into his biceps.

“That was a big one,” Eren grins at you, all cocky and stupid, when you pull back to look at him. You’re too exhausted to berate his smugness, laughing breathlessly.

“It was good,” you agree, whimpering when Eren lifts you off of him. He tosses you to the side, propping you up on your hands and knees.

“Gonna let me have my fun, now?” Eren asks from behind you, landing a few light spanks to your ass.

“That wasn’t fun?”

“Oh, it was very fun,” Eren slides back into you, all the way to the hilt, punching a groan from your throat, “but doesn’t this feel so much better?”

Before you can respond, Eren’s got his hand around your throat, pulling you up onto your knees until your back is flush with his chest. His fingers sneak up, grab your chin, force you to look down.

“See? Like this, you can even see where I’m fucking all the way up into your little tummy.” His free hand rubs lovingly over the little bulge in the bottom of your stomach pulsing in and out in accordance with his slow thrusts. At this angle, Eren’s hitting that gummy spot in your walls dead-on with each snap of his hips; all you can do is cry and whimper pitifully as he picks up his pace, skin on skin echoing throughout the room.

“E-Eren— fuck,” you can barely form words, overcome by the way he’s just using you, manhandling you and bullying you into the shape of him. Your fucked out mind struggles to grasp onto Historia’s reminder; Eren’s not just a guy, he's ruining you for any man to come after him.

“Feel good, baby?” Eren releases you, placing a hand between your shoulder blades, shoving your face into the mattress creaking underneath you and shoving himself that much deeper, fucking up against your cervix. “You feel so good for me. Best pussy I’ve ever had baby, s’like magic.”

You notice the slur in his words, like he’s drunk on you, getting lost in you as much as you’re drowning in him. You shove your hips back towards him, trying to line up in rhythm with his thrusts, make this good for him too instead of being a complete pillow princess. Eren slaps his hands onto your hips and grabs hard, hard enough to leave little fingerprint bruises and move your hips for you.

“Look at you, pretty little thing all slutted out just for me,” he sounds strung out, like his inner monologue is just spilling from his lips, “lemme take care of you, bet I can-“

A hand wraps around your body, thrumming insistently against your puffy, sore clit. You’d like to think the sound that erupts from you is more akin to a moan than a scream, but you’d be lying to yourself. You claw at the bedsheets, desperately trying to run away from the overstimulation- it’s so much, he’s so much-

“Don’t run from me,” Eren slaps your clit sharply, “you can cum again for me, can’t you? After all that fucking talk earlier, I know you can.”

“I can’t, I can-“

“Yes you can,” Eren’s whispering all sweet in your ear like he’s not fucking the life out of you, “just one more, baby, then I’ll give you mine. Promise you can do it.”

Your abused cunt tightens around Eren so viciously you nearly push him out, sobbing into the bed sheets as Eren shoves you over the edge for the third time that night. Eren’s murmuring in your ear how good you are for him, how good you feel, how pretty you look crying for him, only making it all that much sweeter. His hips begin to stutter behind you, and he cums deep in you with a loud groan and a generous amount of swearing.

You collapse in a sweaty heap, Eren pulling you to his chest and affectionately rubbing circles into your back, whispering sweet nothings as you sniffle into your chest. When you start to come back to yourself, giving Eren a meek smile, he runs off to the bathroom for a washcloth to handle the wreck between your legs. That gives you the opportunity to sit up, clutching the sheets to your chest to protect any sense of modesty you might have after that, and take a look around his room.

There are some anime posters on the walls, Jujutsu Kaisen (naturally), Death Note, Bleach, and a framed picture of Eren, Armin, and Mikasa as children. You notice there’s nothing resembling a family photo, and your heart thuds sadly. There’s a desk in the corner scattered with papers, and your curiosity wins out over the trembling in your legs. You toddle over on weak knees, sheets wrapped tightly around yourself, wincing at the feeling of Eren’s cum dripping between your thighs.

To your surprise, most of the papers littering the little desk are sketches of buildings, measurements and keys to each drawing detailed on the side in neat handwriting. They almost look like blueprints, professional and meticulous. You pick one up and study it, missing the creak of the bedroom door.

“What are you doing?” Eren’s got a suspicious look on his face, holding a little cloth and a cup of water in his hands.

“Sorry,” you’re flustered, dropping the paper onto the desk, “I was just–”

“Snooping?” He cocks a knowing eyebrow, walking over to you. Your cheeks warm.

“A little. What are these?”

Eren joins you by the desk, spreading a large hand over the collection of drawings. “Designs.”

“For what?”

“I was an engineering major,” he says simply, shrugging. You can tell he’s a little uncomfortable, but when he doesn’t elaborate, your curiosity outweighs your manners.

“You went to college?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Eren chides, scooping you up bridal-style, sheets and all, and walking you both back over to sit on the bed. Your stomach does somersaults; you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of how easily he can just move you where he wants. “Yeah, I sell drugs or whatever, but ‘m not a complete idiot.”

“I’m sorry,” you say earnestly, letting him open your legs and gently wipe at you where you’re sticky and dripping, “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just surprised s’all. Why didn’t you do anything with your degree?”

Eren frowns, clearly you’ve hit a sore spot. “I couldn’t stand the idea of the nine to five, wife and kids shit. My dad and my brother really pushed it on me, so they haven’t exactly been gung-ho about the fact I never used my diploma. They still think I’m just bartending somewhere.”

You wince; from your conversation at Scout’s, you know you’ve now tread into completely inappropriate territory for a one-night stand. “I didn’t mean to bring it up, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Eren offers a tense smile, “you didn’t know.”

“Your drawings are actually really good.”

“They’re designs, not drawings,” Eren corrects you with a chuckle, “just because I finished school doesn’t mean I stopped liking the work. Just…don’t really want to settle yet, you know?”

You nod. “I know the feeling. Want to just drop it?”

Eren smiles gratefully, pulling the sheets back around you. “You cold? I can find something comfy for you to throw on while I cook.”

You scrunch your nose. “Cook?”

“Think I’d put in that much work on you and not take care of you after?” Eren snorts, already having set you on the bed and started rummaging through his drawers. “What kind of man do you take me for?”

You blush, having expected nothing more than a pat on the bottom and a goodbye after Eren added you as another notch in his belt. “Didn’t particularly take you for any type of man, but definitely not a chef. What are you cooking?

“Burgers,” Eren turns around with a triumphant grin, holding out a corny t-shirt that says Kiss the Chef on it in enormous, white letters. “You want this one, or the Grill Dad shirt?”

#much ado about nothing #PART 3!!!! AH!#i love this chapter so much i hope u guys do too #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren x you #aot x reader #aot smut #aot fic #eren jaeger fic #snk x reader #snk x you #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction

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aurevoiralways · 5 months

Note

Dude imagine y/n getting knocked out by one of the students mucking up an assignment. The poor kid is mortified watching an item fly across the room just to collide with their Professor's head, and the next thing y/n knows, both Poppy and Severus are leaned over them where they lied on the floor. They're trying to measure the extent of her injuries and she's just losing her shit because who gives a fuck what Pomfrey is doing. Why was Severus so damn close to her face??

Lmao. You don't have to do anything with this; it's midnight and i wanted to do a thought-infodump somewhere other than my own account. You're hella blunt so I respect that. Thanks, Little Bat <3

DUDE THIS IS SUCH A CUTE LIL SCENARIO LOL. Now I'm imagining this situation with my own oc omg. I might have to draw a comic of this or something its so cute (I would credit you ofc). I'm rubbing my hands together like a fly imagining Severus acting suspiciously concerned and doting over Vincent (or y/n, or anyone else's oc, etc. we share in this house XD). In his tsundere snapeish way anyway LOL. Bro thinks he's slick sneaking in the extra closeness when no one is watching... maybe a few lingering touches. We see you sir 🤨

Also thank you so much 🖤. I really appreciate that ^^. I feel like in this fandom we all have to be a bit blunt. Maybe we're all absorbing and channeling the Snape vibes LOL.

#pro snape #severus snape #severus snape x reader #severus snape x oc #severus snape imagine #severus snape headcanon #vincent rosario

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nottswitch · 5 months

Text

(five) stages of grief (love)

stage one: denial

so, this is going to be a series with five parts, obviously. heavily inspired by the band voilà and some of their songs. each song has an assigned part and will be revealed at the beginning. you don't have to, but I'd strongly recommend checking them out, as they're not only good songs, but will also elevate your reading experience.

also, since it's a series, I will be doing a taglist, so if you'd like to be added, let me know <3

falling asleep at the wheel by voilà sirius black x reader warning: toxic relationship, gaslighting, emotional abuse, swearing, drinking, mentions of underage drinking. read at your own risk. wc: 3.2k

The two of you were just a couple of young kids suddenly thrust into adulthood.

During the last few months at Hogwarts the thoughts about the future couldn’t escape your mind. It felt strange in a sense, because you remembered planning out your life after school down to the smallest details. You had your mind set on becoming a healer for a long, long while. You studied pretty much every single day, dusk till dawn, dawn till dusk – you had to ace the N.E.W.Ts or else your childhood dream would be crushed by the ruthless claws of the education system. Sirius never got that. He sounded rather nonchalant every time you tried to have a talk about the future, even when it came to the future of you as a couple. He didn’t have any plans, at least as far as you were aware. He brushed off your worries like they were specks of dust on one of his immaculate white shirts (two buttons at the top always undone, three – on special occasions). At some point, you had to give up trying to hammer at least some sense of responsibility into his head (not literally, but sometimes you really wanted to). But you stupidly didn’t, so you had to deal with an actual toddler of a boyfriend on top of your daily stress of the ever-accumulating homework and extra credit tasks you never failed to take.

Sirius was annoyed by your never-ending passion to study as much and as often as you could. He always joked about the fact that he had never spent this much time in the library as he started to when you got together. That much was true: in order to catch mere minutes with you he had to visit the quietest place in Hogwarts rather often – way more often than he would prefer. He wasn’t really joking when he said it though, and you started to catch irritated glances from him from time to time as your relationship progressed. At first, he used to compliment your longing for knowledge, he used to say you looked cute cuddled up with a book on a couch in the common room; as time went by, the number and the poetic value of his compliments had majorly decreased.

Sirius couldn’t help thinking that he didn’t sign up for this, but he didn’t have enough nerve to voice these thoughts. Still, you started having more and more fights. In your mind, you shouldn’t have had any during the so-called “honeymoon phase” of your relationship, but you chucked it all up to simple teenage drama. You thought it was brilliantly self-aware of you, but obviously it didn’t seem like it to Sirius. He hated the fact that he had to scramble for crumbs of your attention and lost the battle against your textbooks more than half the time. He wasn’t used to being sidelined, more so when his opponent was an ancient Herbology volume that looked like it was about to disintegrate in your hands as soon as you breathed on it.

You still had love for each other. It wasn’t puppy love, oh no – your eyes would shoot daggers at anyone who even dared to suggest it. Sirius was also of an incredibly high opinion of that thing between the two of you, calling you “star-crossed lovers” and “the modern version of Romeo and Juliet”. He started using the latter as soon as you made him acquainted with this terribly upsetting love story written by a muggle literary genius, and wouldn’t let it go even after learning that these kids did, in fact, die. He always assured you that you wouldn’t end up like them, that even death couldn’t do you part, and you just knew he was right. You just knew.

“So, what’s next?”

You were standing on the platform, waiting for Hogwarts Express to pick you up and take you away into the likely gray and rainy but still welcoming embrace of London. Your eyes were still glistening in the sun from all the tears you shed during the graduation ceremony. You kept sobbing as you left the school grounds on the same boats that took you there when you were just a small child with a dream. To be honest, you still felt like a child with a dream; suddenly, you weren’t fully ready to take the next step that could take your life in various directions even you, a goody-two-shoes with spreadsheets tracking her exam scores, didn’t have the ability to predict.

“I don’t know, baby. We’ll figure it out.”

Sirius was as laconic as he usually was when it came to these kinds of talks. His hands were wrapped around your waist, bringing you some sense of comfort in front of this huge uncharted wasteland that was the future. You looked up at him, exploring every single feature of his carefree face, completely unbothered by any mighty thinking. You wanted to remember him like that.

“Oh, the lovebirds are at it again, look at them!” James yelled, running up to you hand in hand with Lily. You let out a little laugh, because he seemed to be blissfully unaware of him being a member of the “lovebirds club” as well.

“You ready?” he asked, hugging Lily from behind as they stopped next to you.

“Born ready.”

It was such a Sirius line. You remembered getting annoyed at how he inevitably used it every time you questioned his lack of concern about tomorrow. He was born ready to face anything – McGonagall’s justified wrath when he failed (or, more precisely, didn’t even start) to complete the simplest Transfiguration homework known to man; raging Slytherins after a particularly nasty Quidditch loss; a hangover after getting wasted on very illegal firewhiskey that the guys managed to get at the Hog’s Head and sneak into school. You weren’t born ready, so you felt his words were rather offensive towards your anxious state.

“Where’s Moony? He’s always wandering somewhere; I’m shocked he hadn’t missed a train once!”

Just as Sirius’ words escaped his mouth, someone’s hand landed on his shoulder. Remus was all smiles, running his other hand through his hair to move some stray strands from his face.

“Here, Pads, don’t you worry. Wonder where this little rat is, though. Peter!!!” Remus screamed at the top of his lungs to cover as much ground as possible.

“Coming!” Peter approached your group, slightly out of breath.

You felt like you were in a dream – you know, one of those you wake up from and have to take an extra minute to yourself to come back to Earth; you can’t believe it didn’t happen in real life. That moment at the platform awoke the same exact emotions in you. You had all your friends around you, you should have been over the moon and looking forward to what life had to offer – and somewhere deep inside your mind and soul you were. But you felt your stomach turn all the same, looking back at the glorious castle that towered over the crowd of new graduates even in the distance. For the first time in years, you knew for sure that you wouldn’t be returning there on the 1st of September. But it would be the last time you would cram yourself into the carriage with your closest ones, the last time you would laugh your asses off for the whole Express to hear, the last time you would say your goodbyes on the Platform 9 ¾ and not know when would be the next time you see each other.

“Hey, baby?” Sirius gently nudged your shoulder, drawing your wandering attention. “You seem lost.”

“Can’t believe we’re leaving, is all.”

Your voice was hoarse and quiet, like it didn’t belong to you at all. Sirius pressed his lips against your temple, leaving a trace of lingering warmth. At the moment, he made sure you knew that you were his world and he was yours. The voices of your friends around you were muffled by the soft and fresh cotton blanket of his love.

“We’ll be fine, baby. I promise, we’ll be fine.”

And you wanted to believe him.

The couch in your tiny rented flat was all beaten up and shabby, but as long as it was Sirius whose breath your felt on your skin while you lay on it, it didn’t matter. The whole flat had most definitely seen better days, but it was your home, your first home together, so it already had sentimental value assigned to it. Were you too young at this tender age to live together? Too young to shoulder the responsibilities that the very unforgiving Big World had yet to put on your shoulders? Your parents would enthusiastically agree, but you and Sirius would just roll your eyes in sync and you would add that you weren’t their little baby girl anymore. Then you would soften, because you loved your parents a lot, even when they were insufferable! – and assure them that they could calm down, that you had everything figured out, that you would send them owls at least every three days and visit at least once every two weeks. Your mom would laugh and say that promises were nice, but if you were to succeed in becoming a Healer like you wanted, you would never have time for all that. And you would leave, realizing with stifling regret that she was right.

“Baby, I’m sorry, I have to go,” you whispered into Sirius’ ear. He seemed to have fallen asleep, but as soon as you moved your body to lift yourself up from the couch, his eyes snapped open and he strengthened the hold he had on you. You sighed and pushed yourself against his chest, trying to unglue his tightly locked arms.

“No, Sirius, really, let me go.”

“Why would I?” he wondered, determined, of course, not to let you leave him on the couch all alone. “You’re warm, you’re soft, tonight I slept for two hours… See?”

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, clearing your head without any pressure that Sirius liked inflicting on you with his puppy eyes. Lately you had to deal with them and his pleading far too often. It had only been two weeks since you moved in together, but tension hadn’t left the air since day one, when you couldn’t agree on the chore chart you suggested – as in, Sirius didn’t want to have one at all. He thought it was perfectly fine to leave dirty dishes in the sink, to leave dust to accumulate in layers on every surface imaginable – he was a wizard, after all! He could do it whenever, so why would he spend his precious time that you can’t get back on some measly chores? His attitude drove you insane, but each time you had a fight about it, you had to let it go until another little thing would make you lose your temper. He just. Wasn’t. Cooperating. In anything.

“Sirius, love, my apprenticeship. Why do you always forget?”

“Oh yeah. Sure. Your apprenticeship.”

Sirius loosened his grip and you were able to slip away to finally start getting dressed. His bitter verbal quotation marks were a given whenever he mentioned your new job. As soon as you heard the tone of his voice, you slapped your palms against your face so hard that you could hear the sound faintly ringing in the air, and let out a whistling breath into the gaps between your fingers.

“Again?”

“What? I just said “sure”, is that not allowed anymore?”

Sirius was getting angry. You could tell by way his chest heaved harder than usual and his hands, albeit still resting on his stomach, were clenched together, knuckles so white they could blind the sun itself.

“You know what you said, Sirius. I’m not stupid.”

You didn’t have time to deal with all this nonsense, you would hate to be late to St Mungo’s again. Besides, throughout the whole fortnight you had been living together so far, you started to grow increasingly more anxious and irater whenever you had to mention your newfound venture even in a brief recollection of you day. Sirius would never leave it be, he would always, always do something or say something that hurt you. He didn’t do it maliciously, he told you anytime you took notice of that, he was just reacting, you knew how he felt about you always being away, and blah-blah-blah, and so on… You believed him, you tried really hard to believe him and spent hours on hours on hours persuading yourself that he didn’t mean it, that he loved you and was happy for you.

“Whatever. You can leave. It’s not like I’m locking the door.”

He knew you hated it. He knew how much you despised getting out of the house with a fight between the two of you still looming like the sword of Damocles above your head during the day. He also knew that you would likely forget about the whole deal by the end of it, or at least would try smoothing things over. You hated fighting. But this time he was mistaken – rage you had accrued by that point was burning you up from the inside and you were tired of the endless piles of shit he kept throwing your way.

“You know what, Sirius? You’re a real fucking asshole!”

That was a pretty pathetic insult, you thought, but turned out, it was just enough to get Sirius all riled up. He jumped up from the couch and in seconds he was standing right in front of you, spitting words straight into your face.

“A real fucking asshole?! Come on, baby, who taught you to swear? A fucking child?”

“Yes, it was you, so yes, a fucking child!”

Sirius stepped back, raising his eyebrows sarcastically and bursting out laughing. He was hysterical, by the sounds of it.

“I’m a child? I am a child?! And who are you then, my poor, poor soul? Because throwing me crumbs when your fucking hospital gets the whole three-course meal is real mature!”

And there he was again, shitting all over you like it was small talk.

“Could you ever respect my job?! Is this too much that I’m asking?!”

Your arms hurt from waving them around so much. You wished you could stay calm, as always, you wished you had just left, then came back at the end of the day and everything was alright. But deep down you knew this whole delusional bubble would burst at some point. Sooner was better than later.

“Come on, what job? What job?! 2 galleons a day is a-fucking-lot, isn’t it, love?”

A wave of pure shock nearly knocked you down. Your nose started tingling, signaling the imminent arrival of those pesky motherfuckers called tears. Sirius never talked about money to you, on the contrary, it was always your initiative to go over your budget for the week. He never agreed, because he felt it was too burdensome, and now he was throwing it straight back into your desperate face.

“At least I don’t sit on my ass all day! Your part-time at Fortescue’s is so much better, right?! Why don’t you try the Hog’s Head next?”

You knew you struck a nerve. You couldn’t even deny doing it deliberately, just to show him that it hurt. Sirius never explained his choice of career to you, but he seemed happy enough, so you never let it bother you. But his unwillingness to actually properly discuss it made you think he wasn’t that satisfied. You saw it on his face right after you blurted out your little speech.

“Oh yeah, I do sit on my ass all day, and you know what? Even I earn more than you!”

Sirius wasn’t that easy to break, you knew it, but you hoped that you could maybe just this one time… And you also knew that you brought this storm upon yourself, because when Sirius was angry, he could say anything, literally anything without a care in the world, something he would probably regret later. You could never guess if he actually did, but your heart was desperate to believe so. It didn’t happen often, but whenever it did, it stung like a thousand wasps landed on you at the same time and plunged their stingers deep inside your skin at the same exact spot.

“So, it is about the money?”

You weren’t shouting anymore. Any leftover strength fled your body, so you had to sit back down on the couch, staring at Sirius as he was going blurry in front of you, as if he was already drowning in the upcoming stream of your tears.

“No? If that’s what you’re getting… well, good fucking luck.”

Sirius threw his hands up, as if he was giving up. He leaned on the wall and crossed his arms on his still heavily heaving chest, looking somewhere through the leaking ceiling.

“What is it then?” you asked, almost in a whisper, because you truly did not have it in you to even raise your voice, let alone have a screaming match.

“Really? I fucking love you, that’s what!”

Sirius did have it in him. He tried really hard to ignore your fallen spirit; he felt the need to dump the entirety of his emotional outburst on you, because when else would he do it? Things were already perfectly awful, so nothing had the capacity to make the situation worse.

You wished you had some magical noise-cancelling earmuffs that would drown out his voice. After everything he said (and had been saying before) he had the audacity to tell you that he loved you? Indeed, he did. It was no surprise, unfortunately. All your fights ended up like that – he told you that he loved you, that he was just afraid of losing you, that you were his everything; he begged you to say that you loved him too. He needed to hear it, he cried. And you would always crumble right there with him. You forgave him every. Single. Time. And then he went back to his usual careless self.

“I want to be with you in every possible way, do you understand that? Emotionally, spiritually, or whatever the fuck you call it, and physically.” Sirius took your silence as a go-ahead for him to continue, his voice still raised. “And right now, I can’t have that. And I don’t like it at all, I hate it with a burning passion. Why can’t you see it?” he finished much softer.

You finally let a violent shower of tears leave your eyes. You couldn’t stand crying in front of Sirius – it was a sign he won. But he never let it show. He could finally play the part he knew and loved the most: a wonderful apologetic boyfriend who pulled you into his arms, cradled you like a baby and gave your head thousands of little kisses while you wept into his shoulder. He apologized over and over and you felt guilty for making him do it. Ultimately, he was right. Maybe you were selfish, maybe you didn’t have your priorities straight, maybe you wronged him each and every time you took an extra shift at St Mungo’s to prove yourself as a reliable Trainee Healer. Maybe he did love you more than life itself. Maybe he was your fate, your forever and ever, and you were his.

“We’ll be fine, baby. I promise, we’ll be fine.”

You had already heard these words before. You believed them.

#— witch’s works ☾#sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #sirius black series #the marauders #the marauders era #the marauders fanfiction

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cowgurrrl · 7 months

Text

Slow It Down Cowboy

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: this ended up being so chunky but I hope that’s okay

Summary: The wall [5.8k!!!]

Warnings: academic blackmail??, bad administrative decisions, an even worse parent, Joel comforting reader, more art talk, slight angst

As the sun sets earlier and the weather dips below the usual heat, things actually start looking pretty good. Andie, somehow, found time off of work and is coming home for a few days during the long winter break. You've gotten back to making art you actually care about now that you're in a race with Joel. All your students are settled and starting to come out of their shells, making more experimental art. Ellie continues to show up with cups of coffee with your name on them before anyone else can spill into your classroom, and you continue to text Joel.

How much are you spending on coffee now?

I thought we agreed to keep certain things secret.

Joel Miller.

Hush. You deserve it.

In between lessons and at lunch, you'll manage to catch each other at the right time and shoot messages off as fast as they come in. He helps you fix a squeaky chair over text, and you help him set up a care package to send to Sarah. It's nice even though you haven't really seen him since the night of the gallery opening. Even things at the bar seem to be doing better, and you're making enough to not have to worry so much. But you're most proud of the list of students whose art will be shown at the winter showcase, Ellie's work among them.

You make a big deal about it and send in an announcement to be read in the morning, congratulating all the students. You even go out of your way to announce it in all your classes and offer extra credit to any student who shows up to support their classmates. Surprisingly, your rag-tag group of moody teenagers actually seem keen about the opportunity. Things are going well. You're happy, healthy, financially stable(ish), and your guards are down for the first time in a long time.

You're working with quiet music playing over your computer when the knock at your door sounds during planning period. You stand to open it, but before you can, you hear a jangle of keys and the popping of the lock. Principal Martinez walks in, squints at you, and immediately turns on the overhead fluorescent lights that haven't been used in God knows how long. They buzz in protest as your eyes adjust.

"Hey!" You manage to sound cheery even though she looks like she means business. "I'm assuming you're here about the winter showcase?" You ask, and the line between her brows deepens.

"The what?"

"The showcase? A couple of my kids from the art club got accepted to have their artwork shown in a gallery downtown. It was on the announcements this morning. I can send you the information about when the event is." You offer. Something clicks, and she shakes her head now that she knows what you're talking about.

"Oh, that," she says. "No, I'm not here about that."

"Am I in trouble?"

"Not exactly." She says, and you feel panic pool in your stomach like an unwanted visitor. "Dalton Green's father has brought his grade in your class to my attention."

"He hasn't turned anything in to me since September. I can't grade an empty page," you say, hoping that she's as aware as you are that it's the beginning of November. "I sent an email to his father and football coach back in October, but I still haven't seen any work from him."

"Mr. Green says he's positive his son has turned in work. Are you sure you haven't just misplaced it?"

"No, I've graded and given back every single assignment from the semester."

"Let me be clear," she says. "Are you sure you haven't just forgotten to put his grades in? It's an easy mistake to make. You could always just input them now so that he's eligible to continue playing. You wouldn't want to bench a perfectly responsible young man. Would you?"

"Ma'am, are you suggesting I lie about Dalton's grades just so he can keep playing football?" You ask, your panic quickly turning into frustration.

"It'd be such a silly thing to fail something as simple as art. Especially when the funding for the school comes directly from our team's ability to perform. Sometimes, as teachers, we have to make sacrifices to ensure the greater good of our students." She says. It never fails to surprise you how condescending people can be when it comes to your job. Martinez will be gone in a year to fight for a place on the school board, and it's clear she's not pulling her punches even now. Still, you're floored by the ask. Never in your career have you been asked by a principal to lie about a student's grades.

"I'd be willing to make certain accommodations, but I'm really not comfortable doing that. If he wanted to turn something in, I could find a way to give him half credit." You say. Her face changes almost imperceptibly before she straightens up with a cynical smile.

"Well, I think since you had the idea, you should be the one to call his father and tell him the good news," she says it like it's a reward, but it feels like more of a punishment. Your good mood comes crumbling around you as she looks at you expectantly. You have principles as a teacher. This is one of them, but how far are you willing to go to protect it? "I have a meeting with some people from the school board, but please let me know what conclusion you and Mr. Green come to regarding Dalton's grades." She says as she walks out of your room, not even bothering to look at you over her shoulder as she speaks to you.

"Fuck," you mutter as the door closes behind her. You stare at the phone and think about your options. You can't let her walk all over you just because she's your boss, and you won't compromise your values just so the football program will thrive. But you also really don't want to make this phone call. If Dalton's dad is as pleasant as he seems over email, you can't imagine this going well. "Fuck." You say again as you pick up the receiver and search your records for Dalton's dad's phone number. You find it, and in a burst of confidence, dial the number and listen to the line ring, secretly hoping he won't pick up.

"Green." His dad says in place of a greeting, and you take a deep breath.

"Hi, Mr. Green. This is Dalton's art teacher from school. I understand you had some issues regarding his grade in my class?" You tread very carefully, but even then, he scoffs.

"You're damn right I have some issues. Why are you failin' him? He's gotta pass to play football, and Principal Martinez said you'd get it sorted."

"Yes, sir, that's why I'm calling," you say. "Dalton hasn't turned in any of the assignments I've given out since September, and because of that, I've been unable to give him a good grade. However, I can make some arrangements to give him half credit for every assignment he turns in before the end of next week. That should give him more than enough time between classes and practice."

"He told me you lost his assignments."

"No, sir, I haven't received anything from him." You say. He doesn't say anything for a moment, and you almost hope the call dropped before he can respond.

"Are you sayin' my son's a liar?"

You spend the next twenty minutes being berated over the phone, not even allowed to get a word in without being cut off. Several times throughout the call, you think about hanging up and unplugging the phone, but you know that'd only make it worse. God forbid he show up at the school and humiliate you in front of the other staff or, worse, students. No wonder Dalton has issues if this is how his father speaks to people. If your day wasn't ruined by your encounter with the principal, it certainly is now. You handle it as well as possible until he gets near the end of his rant and takes a deep breath.

"I just can't believe they'd let a teacher as horrible as you work there. What right do you have to teach anything?" He says, and that's what really gets under your skin. Suddenly, hot tears spring in your eyes, and your throat feels like sandpaper.

"I don't know." It is the only thing you can think to say.

"Call me back when you have a real fuckin' solution and not whatever bullshit this is." He spits before hanging up the phone. You put the receiver down and bury your head in your hands, trying your best not to cry. Your molars buzz, and it feels like your head is swelling with pain. His insults and backhanded comments echo in your ears, and you can't hold the tears back any longer.

What a fucking shit show. You know Martinez won't do anything about the verbal abuse unless you're willing to lie about grades, which is a ridiculous request in the first place. Dalton's dad won't back down, and you can safely assume Coach Sanders is next up on the roster if you don't do something soon. Why can't you get a kid to turn in a fucking piece of paper? Are you really that bad of a teacher that you're losing an argument with a seventeen-year-old? Is this the hill you want to die on?

You think about going upstairs and seeking refuge in Mrs. Tomlinson's English class, your favorite coworker and the one who hides the good snacks in her desk, but you know she has a class, and you don't want to embarrass yourself. Andie is seven hours ahead and probably asleep. You're friends with people from the bar but not good enough friends that you could call them crying about a situation like this. The realization that you're alone in this makes you more emotional, and you have to stifle your sobs behind your hand.

You jump when your doorknob twists open again, and you half-expect Martinez to be there with an I-told-you-so look on her face. You quickly turn so your back is to the door and wipe the tears on your face. You can't stand to be humiliated again today. When you turn back to see who entered your classroom, Joel's big brown eyes soften when he sees how upset you are.

"Honey," he murmurs, and you almost start sobbing again at his soft tone. "What's goin' on?"

"I didn't know you were coming today." You sniffle, trying to pull yourself together. He walks over and drops his toolbox on a nearby table so he can pull you up from your chair.

"Supposed to be a surprise." He says as he tucks you into his chest. You hug him tightly and let him rub your back in the quiet of your classroom. His shirt smells like laundry detergent and the cold wind sweeping through the hill country. He should be wearing a jacket, but he's not, and you can feel goosebumps on his skin. For a minute, you just cling to him and cry, staining his shirt with tears, but he doesn't care. He's patient and shushes you gently as he adjusts his hold on you to bring you closer. You bury your face in his neck, and he kisses your head.

"What are you doing here?" You ask into his skin.

"I found your missin' piece for the projector. I thought I'd come install it for you so you'd stop fallin' off things tryna get it to work," he says. He leans back just enough to swipe your hair out of your eyes and rests his hands on either side of your face so you can see him. You want to turn away because you know you look like a crying mess, but he doesn't flinch. "There she is," he whispers fondly when you meet his eyes. "Your turn. What happened that's got you all upset?" He asks, swiping his thumbs under your eyes to catch stray tears.

"Just… a really shitty call with a parent." You say, not wanting to get into specifics just yet.

"Anythin' I can do?" He asks, and you shake your head. Just his presence is enough to make you feel better. His big, warm hands holding you like you're precious is a big plus, too. You run your hands over the muscles hidden by his shirt and take a deep breath.

"Just this," you say, and he smiles. "'S a very nice surprise."

"I might've had ulterior motives." He says sheepishly, and you chuckle.

"What are your ulterior motives, maverick?" You ask. You honestly don't know where the nickname came from, but it's stuck around. You've heard it used by old southern women when talking about someone who's independent or doesn't follow the rules. "There goes maverick again!" They'd say when their unruly son would go speeding by in the kitchen. You think the private name suits him.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks quietly, without a hint of shame or doubt in his voice. You almost fold just because of how he's looking at you through his long eyelashes. Almost. The age-old sound of your projector whirring reminds you where you are, and you straighten up.

"Not here."

"After I fix the projector?" He negotiates, and you laugh at how quickly he bounces back.

"After you fix the projector and we're not on school campus anymore."

"Deal," he says as he turns away from you and toward his toolbox. "You should time me. This might be the fastest replacement I've ever done."

"You're really that motivated now?" You tease, the levity between you two draining the dredges of your bad afternoon from your brain. He smiles and digs in his toolbox for the right screwdriver.

"For you? Of course." He says. You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting a smile, and he winks at you. He's barely standing on a chair before you grab his arm and stop him.

"Wait," you say. You're not really sure what the plan is, but you also don't care. Joel, however, looks confused. "I found an old step stool in my storage closet the other day, but it's on the top shelf. If you can get it down, that might be a little safer."

"You've had a step stool this whole time, and you're still climbin' on tables?" He asks, raising his eyebrows at you. "You're gonna put me in an early grave one of these days."

"Quit that," you laugh as he steps off the chair. "I didn't have time to get it down whenever I needed it, and I just forgot about it until the other day. C'mon, I'll show you where it is." He sighs dramatically but follows you into the dusty storage room filled floor to ceiling with various art supplies. It's hidden by a suspicious-looking, windowless door just off to the right of your classroom. You think it might've been used as a tornado shelter when the school was much smaller and younger, but since then, it's been renovated into a personal storage room.

The second the door closes behind him, you turn around, push him against it, and kiss him before you can change your mind. He gasps into you like he wasn't expecting this but quickly grabs your waist, anchoring to you and kissing you back feverishly. You really had planned on making him wait until you were safe, far away from school grounds, instead of pulling him into the nearest private space like a teenager. But you figured if Martinez can break the rules, why can't you?

Your hand snakes through his hair and plays with the curls at the nape of his neck, drawing a content sigh from Joel. His lips are a little chapped and firm against yours. He tastes like coffee and something sweet, and you want more. You tip your mouth up to him to kiss him deeper, and he grips your hips hard, his fingers grazing the skin just under the hem of your shirt. You test scratching your nails over the back of his neck, and he shudders beautifully under your touch. In one move, he switches places with you and pins you between him and the door.

With him in control, he slows down just a little, kissing you softly like he's got all the time in the world. You've realized Joel likes treating you like you're made of porcelain. Like all it would take is one wrong move, and you'd fall apart under his touch. He lets you make the first move every time, tying his hands behind his back until you say the word in an impressive show of self-control. Even at the art gallery, when there was so much tension between you, you thought you'd choke on it; he wasn't the one who initiated. The knee-jerk reaction of flipping your positions against the door to take control is his first show of power, and you like it. What do you need to do to get him to do it again?

The bell sounding through the intercom breaks you apart, and you groan at the intrusion. Nothing is keeping you after school today but you aren't ready to separate from Joel just yet. You rest your head on the door and stare at him as you vaguely hear the sounds of rowdy kids flooding the hallways. His lips are swollen and a little pink, and his hair is messy from all your pulling.

"What?" He questions your staring and you shake your head.

"I just like looking at you," you say. "Your hair is also a mess, but that's a completely different story."

"And whose fault is that?" He laughs and musses his curls back into place. You help with a few strands at the back and smile when everything is tame again.

"Good as new." You say. Now, it's his turn to peer at you, and you give him a confused look. You swipe under your eyes as if there's mascara stuck there and fix your hair, waiting for him to give you the all-clear, but he just chuckles.

"I can't believe you pulled me into a closet to make out."

"Me neither, honestly." You admit as the both of you dissolve into delirious laughter. You wait in the closet for a few more minutes so the hallways can clear out (and you can kiss a little more) before you finally exit, checking that it's clear and then opening the door wider for Joel. When he sees his toolbox sitting on the desk where he left it, he sighs and glances between you and the ceiling.

"I'm never gonna get to fix that goddamn projector." He mutters, and you laugh as you pass in front of him and pat his shoulder.

"Next time, maverick." You say. His grumbles disappear as you pack up your stuff side-by-side in silence. It's nice to not feel like you always have to fill the space with conversation. It's enough for papers to rustle as they land in your bag and his tools to clink as they find their proper homes. The hallways have gone quiet, and the eerie silence of an empty school slowly creeps up on you.

Joel's boots squeaking catch your attention as you unplug your computer and start turning off various lamps around the classroom. He stands in front of the whiteboard where you have a big print of a Rothko painting displayed for today's art history lesson. He tilts his head as he looks at it like he's trying to find some hidden meaning or perspective, and you smile to yourself at the motion.

"Lots of people think it's not much to look at." You break the silence from the back of the room, and he looks at you over your shoulder.

"I didn't say that."

"I know. I'm just letting you know what certain historians say," you say. You finish with all the lamps, and the only light coming into the classroom is the little bit of natural light streaming in from the windows near the ceiling. Stray dust spins in the air as you join him in looking at the poster of the Rothko, and you try to imagine what he's thinking.

It's a little unnerving, like most of the ones Rothko made towards the end of his life. The vast darkness on the top half of the painting is daunting, while the gray at the bottom helps ground the viewer, at least a little. If you look closely enough, you can see the various washes and brushstrokes he used to create the painting. Obviously, a lot of skill and time went into something like this, even though not everyone wants to see it. "It's hard to know what it meant to him. It probably didn't mean anything, honestly. He wanted people to have sensory experiences with his art, so you only get as much as you put into it." You explain, and Joel nods but doesn't look away from the painting.

"Is it the surface of the moon?" He asks.

"What makes you say that?" You interrogate, trying to hide your excitement at getting to hear him tell you what he thinks of art.

"Well, it kinda looks like I'm standin' on the moon and lookin' out into space." He says as he runs his finger over the divide between the two colors.

"Where's the Earth, then?"

"Maybe I'm on the dark side of the moon."

"Why?"

"I don't know," he says. "Maybe the Earth is just too far away, and I can't reach it, but I know it's there. If the moon started spinnin' faster or somethin', I could see it, but maybe it's not for me to see..." It's incredibly profound, even if he doesn't realize it. You see where he's coming from based on what you know about his past and almost want to reach for his hand, but you don't. "But I don't know. What do I know bout art?"

"A lot," you answer quickly, hating how he talks about himself like he's stupid. "You know a lot. That was a really good analysis." He hums noncommittally and bumps your shoulder with his.

"What bout you? What's it to you?" He asks, and you sigh as you look the colors over again.

"A wall and the night sky."

"A wall?"

"Yeah. It's either protecting me or keeping me in, but either way, it's there, and there's not much I can do about it. I could stay where I am and never find out what's beyond it and be safe, or I could climb the wall and never be the same again. I wouldn't know what's behind it or what's out there— that's why it's all black at the top— but maybe that's what's so interesting about it. The unknown." You say, and Joel hums.

"You should be a teacher or somethin'." He says, and you laugh and move to grab your backpack off your desk.

"It just might be in the cards for me," you say. "What's Ellie doing tonight? Don't you have to pick her up?"

"She's actually going to the movies with some friends tonight." He says, beaming with pride, and you gasp dramatically.

"Is she really?"

"Sent her with twenty dollars and everythin'."

"Oh, that's so good! She's doing so good! I knew art club would get her out of her shell." You clap your hands, and he nods, smiling.

"She certainly ain't shy anymore. It feels like she's always on the phone with someone these days." He's a little nostalgic for the little girl who used to cling to her dad, and you make a sympathetic sound.

"Don't you worry. I'm sure she'll want to hang out with her old dad during winter break."

"Old?!" He parrots as you usher him out of the room, your keys jingling on your arm.

"Her words, not mine." You say as you walk out into the empty hallway with him and lock your classroom door behind you. He scoffs and grumbles something under his breath but doesn't push you for any insider information on Ellie. You like having your secrets with her, and as long as she's not a threat to herself or others, you'll keep those secrets until she's ready to tell him.

You walk out to the parking lot together to catch the last few rays of sun scattering across the sky and smile when you see that Joel somehow managed to park close to your car. He loads his tools up in his truck bed while you throw your backpack in the backseat, but neither of you gets in your car immediately after things are settled. Instead, you wander back over to his truck and lean against one of the doors.

"So, if Ellie's out with friends, what are you doing for the rest of the night?" You ask, and he smirks, stepping into your space. You think about scolding him, but the parking lot is practically empty. Plus, you like having him close. In the orange light of dusk, you feel safe next to him and his truck. He quirks an eyebrow at you and looks serious.

"Are you askin' me on a date?"

"It's not a date."

"Is this the same thing like you weren't gonna kiss me, and then you did?" He teases. You roll your eyes and push off his truck, putting your arms up in defeat.

"I didn't realize Joel Miller hated spontaneity so much. Fine, I'll stop doing it." You start walking back toward your car, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back before you can get far. You smile when your chest collides with his and look up at him.

"Now, I didn't say all that," he says. "'M just surprised. You're gettin' ballsy."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I don't think so," he says as he leans forward like he's about to tell you a secret. "I think it's pretty hot, actually." He whispers lowly in your ear, his breath fanning out across your neck and making your face hot. You shove at his shoulder, but he just laughs and grabs your hand. "What? You don't like me callin' you hot?"

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"I ain't hearin' a 'no.'"

"Yes, Joel, I like it. Is that what you wanna hear?" You finally relent, and he shrugs with every ounce of sass.

"Maybe," he says. "I also wanna hear what you were thinkin' for our not date."

"Oh, something super romantic."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. Whataburger meals and milkshakes." You say, and he makes a play at his knees giving out under him.

"A woman after my own heart." He groans, and you roll your eyes.

You could take separate cars. It'd probably be easier for getting home and take away an extra stop, but you don't really care about that when you climb into the passenger's side of his truck. He doesn't seem surprised by your decision to ride with him and rests a hand on your thigh the second he pulls out of the school parking lot. He asks about your day, painting, and even if you've heard anything else from Henry as he drives. You rant a little about Principal Martinez and ask about his day, so he gets a turn ranting about headers and structural issues. You're not exactly sure what he's talking about, but you nod and listen anyway, and he doesn't critique you for not knowing.

When you get to Whataburger, you have to scout to make sure there are no teenagers you recognize before going in. Of course, he opens the door and lets you order first like a gentleman, but you elbow him out of the way so you can pay before he can even reach for his wallet. By the look on his face, you would've thought you ripped a cookie out of his hands. "It's my turn!" You say, but he still looks shocked when you hand him his orange and white striped cup. You choose a booth near the back and continue talking about your days or recent developments until your food comes, and then you talk in between bites. It's not romantic, but it is comfortable.

He updates you on Sarah's progress in medical school and even shows you pictures on his phone of the last time the three of them were all together. He looks lighter when he's with the both of them like all the pieces of his heart are bound in those girls. You like to think it is. He tells you how he's looking at grants for small-business owners in Austin and is eligible to apply for a good amount. "'M just nervous I won't get any." He says, and you shake your head.

"They've got insane amounts of money they're looking to give to hardworking people. I bet you'll be a millionaire by the end of this bet." You say, and he chuckles as he pops a fry in his mouth.

"What bout you?" He asks.

"What about me?"

"How's the search for a gallery goin'?" You take a deep breath at his question and shrug.

"I don't really have anything to submit just yet, but some places are taking rolling submissions, so I can send something in whenever. I just want it to be good."

"'M sure it will be." He says, and you give him a look.

"You haven't even seen any of my work. What if it's awful?"

"Then I'd lie and say it's the best thing I've ever seen."

"So you’re a iiar."

"At least, I'd be a considerate liar." He says. You're about to start arguing with him about it when a pair of familiar eyes meet yours across the restaurant. Before you can even think about a tactic to get out of the situation, she's already up and walking toward your booth.

"Oh, shit," you mutter, and Joel's eyebrows furrow until he finds who you're looking at. His face falls exactly the same way you're sure yours did.

"Hi!" Marnie greets as she lands in front of you. "I haven't seen you in a minute!"

"I know! I've been meaning to text you about getting drinks, but I keep forgetting!" It's a lie. A considerate lie, but a lie nevertheless.

"Oh, you're too sweet. We'll set somethin' up," she says as she turns to Joel. "And you! I haven't seen you since Sarah moved. How is she?" Oh, shit. How does she know you and Joel? He recovers quickly with a charming smile and a nod.

"Yes, ma'am. She's doin' real good up in Boston. Keepin' outta trouble and everythin'."

"And Ellie? How's she doin'? She still makin' art?" 900,000 people in Austin and countless Whataburgers within 100 square miles, and the person who walks into the one you're in is the one you used to work with at school. Not only that, but she knows Joel's kids. She knows Joel. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Yeah, she's still doin' art. She's good at it. She's seein' a movie with some friends from school tonight." He says, and Marnie's eyes light up at the mention of the high school while Joel tenses.

"Oh, my gosh, how's the new classroom? I completely forgot they renovated that old teacher's lounge a couple years ago."

"It's good. The equipment's a little old, but nothing's fallen apart yet. You'll have to come see it sometime."

"We'll have to find a time!" She says, always insanely cheerful. "Well, I'll let y'all get back to your meal, but I'd be kickin' myself if I didn't come over here and say hello to you two. Joel, please tell the girls I said hi."

"Yes, ma'am," Joel says politely. With that, Marnie turns and walks back to her waiting husband and says something that sounds like, "I know them!" Your food is suddenly cold and unappetizing when you look at it, and your stomach is in knots. The warm bubble around you and Joel has burst, and you're left in the stark light of the truth. "D'you wanna go?" Joel whispers, and you nod.

He takes your trays and throws away the food before opening the door for you to walk out into the cool night air, avoiding Marnie's stare the whole time. He doesn't reach for you or help you into the truck. He barely looks at you until you're in the safety of the cab. The world is spinning around you, and alarms are sounding in your brain. What the fuck just happened?

"How do you know her?" You ask Joel, staring straight ahead, and he swallows hard.

"She was Sarah and Ellie's science tutor," he says, and your eyes flutter shut. "How do you know her?"

"She was the science teacher at the high school during my first year there. She left to go to a different school after that, but we were pretty close."

"So, she knows you're a teacher at the same school my kid goes to."

"And she knows Ellie does art, so she knows she would be one of my students." You slowly piece together how bad this could be. You got caught having dinner with the parents of one of your students. If Marnie says anything, word could travel through the district until Martinez hears about it. You'd be in much more trouble than you already are with her. You could be accused of giving Ellie special treatment and violating school policy.

"Fuck." Joel mumbles, mirroring your exact thoughts, and you nod.

"We can't do this." You whisper, not wanting to admit it, especially after such a nice day with him. He doesn't protest. He feels the gravity of the situation. You want to put your hand over his. You want to hug him. You want to comfort him the way he comforted you, but you can't.

"I know." His voice is even and controlled like he's choosing his words carefully, but you can hear the disappointment in his words. You can't go back to an hour ago when you were laughing and pulling him into storage rooms. You have to stay where you are. You have to stay safe. He is the personification of your wall and you have to be okay with not knowing what’s beyond it.

You can't do this.

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