#not sure if this is what you were envisioning

[snoopyhughes]

it's you, it's you, it's really all for you (nh13)

Happy winter fic exchange @puckology101 !!! For the plot I had in mind, I didn't think a Swiss Alps trip was realistic but I hope this does the trick. I tried to detail the beautiful Banff scenery as best as I could (especially for someone who has never been!) so I hope you could truly envision that.

As always, @wyattjohnston Demi thank you so much for hosting this event for our community!

This is 2k+ words, I don't believe there's any mentions of any defining traits but I have not done a thorough check to ensure that this is safe for all to read. If you would like me to do that, shoot me a message and I'm more than willing to double check.

Title from Video Games by Lana del Rey (the live version, iykyk) this is loosely edited!

Nico Hischier, in hind sight, was thrilled that Switzerland was not a part of the four nations tournament. His logical, captain sense knows that he should want to play hockey all the time, work on his game, and he does really love international play. However, he needed a break. The high powered, adrenaline filled season had taken a toll on his body and his mental capacity.

But deep down, he was thrilled. Because that means he gets to go on a trip with his best friend, Y/N. When some of the guys who weren't going to four nations decided to get a group together and take a trip to Banff, complete with skiing, the beautiful winter scenery, and two hot tubs on the property, he jumped on the opportunity, even faster when he knew Y/N could come with.

Dawson insisted that he invited his girlfriend because he promised her a trip on the all star break but she ended up not being able to go. Soon enough, almost all of the guys were inviting their partners, save for Luke who insisted on bringing his best friend Dylan Duke, never one for formalities with girls.

Nico was chronically single, but always by choice. He does not have enough fingers and toes to count the amount of times he's tried to show you how much he loves you, more than a friend, but it never works. Either you're lovingly clueless or you don't feel the same way, the latter causing a pit in his stomach. That being said, Nico will always pick you as his plus one to pretty much anything. If you ever suggest that he find a real date, someone who he might want to be romantically involved with, he shrugs it off immediately, letting you know that "he doesn't have time for a relationship right now" and that "you make him happier than any relationship ever could."

Everything leading up to the trip was relatively smooth. The private jet flight (that you'd never get used to) was like flying on a resort, you were able to get time off work with no problem, and even the packing didn't seem like as much of a chore as it usually does. But things started getting interesting as soon as you, Nico, and the group made it to the ski resort. You always knew you'd be sharing a room, that much never bothered you. You'd shared hotel rooms with him before, having not been a first timer on an all star break trip, which is essentially what this was. Coincidentally, all of the people on the trip ended up with rooms right next to each other. When you opened the door, you saw one huge king bed staring right at you.

You and Nico shared a look, assuming that your room may have gotten mixed up with the others. Sure enough, when you knocked on everyone's door, they all had the same set up as you. The only room with two beds on the floor, it seemed, belong to Luke and Dylan. You thought of asking them to switch, but you could only imagine Luke's dramatics and theatrics if you tried to suggest switching rooms.

"It really doesn't bother me, Y/N. As long as it doesn't bother you, I'm fine with it. Besides, did you see the size of that bed? It could probably fit a third person in there also." You really didn't know why you were so nervous. Of course, you had known you had feelings for Nico. But you always felt that Nico could never have any feelings for you. You had watched Nico flirt with girls in the bar after games, even on the trips you went on, awkwardly tagging along on his side. It was the same way he flirted with you sometimes. It made you feel like you were just another girl for him to flirt with. He had a naturally flirty personality, and you were just another person who came in contact with that.

As you opened the door to the bedroom again, accepting your fate, you took a second to look around and truly take in the room. You were amazed at what you saw. When you first walked into the room, you could clearly see the bathroom, with a jacuzzi tub and a waterfall shower, and even a double vanity sink. In addition to the huge bed, there was a massive TV set up across from it, some of the softest towels you've ever countered in your life, and a huge glass sliding door. When you moved the curtains, you couldn't help the gasp that had came over your mouth.

Nico had seen tons of beautiful mountain scenery in his lifetime, growing up in Switzerland. He had seen the mountains, the snow, all of it. And sure, you had seen snow. It was usually tinged with grey and brown, tire tracks and footprints ruining its true beauty. This, this pure, unaltered beauty of the mountain scene in Banff, it took your breath away. Nico couldn't help but smile, seeing your pure joy, watching the breath get stolen from your mouth as you observed the scenes around you.

"Nico this is... wow," you gasped, leaning in when he wrapped his arm around you, feeling him rest his head atop of yours. Your heart fluttered, feeling like you were meant to be here. "You're my best friend," you smiled nuzzling into his side. "Yeah, my best friend."

You should've known with the room situation that the guys were up to something. After all, Dawson insisted on booking the rooms, saying that Nico deserved a break from his "captain duties," causing Nico to rebut that "booking rooms on a vacation is hardly a 'captain's duty.'" But when you turned away from the mountains, you were beginning to discover that it was possible that you and Nico had gotten the "honeymoon suite." You had your own private hot tub on the deck of your room, the first floor patio backing up into a beautiful mountain scene. You imagined snow falling onto your face and hair as you and Nico lounged in the hot tub together. Your cheeks heat up at the thought, causing you to pull away from Nico. You couldn't allow yourself to get too caught up in the what ifs. If Nico really wanted to make a move on you, he would make a move, not the same move he had made hundreds of other times.

You found yourself in your bathroom getting ready with the other girls that were on the trip. Nico had already gotten ready and was downstairs at the bar drinking with the guys. Since you had gotten in to the resort after 5, you knew no skiing would be happening, so you made reservations at a nice restaurant in downtown Banff.

"So, how's it going with you and Nico? Do you like the room?" Dawson's girlfriend giggling, nudging you in the side. "I knew that couldn't have been accidental. Dawson seemed way too excited watching me trying to figure out how to unlock the room door," you laughed, nudging her right back. "It's so foolish. You both clearly love each other, but neither of you will make a move. It makes no sense. If you guys won't do it, someone else had to try it." You sighed, putting the cap on your lip gloss.

"I know what you mean, but I really don't think Nico likes me back. He acts the same way with every other girl he's come across. If Nico really wants to be with me, I want him to make it known, make it obvious. Do something that lets me know that it's me only, not me and the girls at the bar, not me and the girls who wait for him after games, just me." Whether you realized it or not, the other girls were silently taking notes, and as soon as you went to the bathroom at dinner, they told Nico.

When you arrived with the girls at the restaurant, you learned the guys were already waiting at a table. Nico's eyes lit up when he saw you, smiling wide and blushing at your prolonged eye contact. As you came closer to the table, he took a step toward you, pulling you into a hug. His large hand ran along your back as he pulled you in close, causing goosebumps to raise up your arms and on the back of your neck.

"You look absolutely stunning," he whispered in your ear, causing your cheats to heat up, a smile just as big as Nico's. Nico only pulled away to pull your chair out for you, again causing your cheeks to heat up, the girlfriends smiling around you, although you had genuinely no idea because you couldn't stop staring at Nico.

They wondered how you couldn't see how much he cared for you, more than anyone, especially any other girl. Even the guys could see how much he cared for you. The girls understood deep down, knowing how difficult it can be to be able to fully trust a man, especially if you had been hurt in the past by one. Because yes, they were taking notes to share with Nico. But they really didn't need to. And everything they told him, he already knew.

He knew exactly where you'd want to eat, knowing that you craved your comfort food when you were tired. It was the perfect place to eat after a travel day, and getting to the hotel when it was already dark. He knew your preferred seating choice, and of course he knew that you would want a table with a view of the mountains. He didn't care how much it cost him, or that he had to name drop himself (and Luke) to get the table with the view. All that mattered was that he could sit across from you, and watch you admire the view, while he admired you, which was really all that mattered to him.

And nothing felt more perfect than when the rest of the couples started either making their way back to the resort or to the next stop on their drinking trip down the Main Street in Downtown, you and Nico stayed. The two of you stayed, his hand softly brushing yours as you talked, him with his back to the window, taking that spot specifically so that you could see the scenery. And even as everyone left, leaving the two of you at the table alone, all he wanted to do was look at you. The way you smiled, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you laughed, even the soft yawn you let out towards the end of the night made him smile, his cheeks hurting at the end of the night.

When the uber dropped you two off at the resort at the end of the night, Nico held the door open for you, helping you back into the room. When he moved from the front of your view and you saw what he had done, you couldn't stop the gasp from coming from your mouth. How he had done it while being at the restaurant and you being the last to leave the room, you truly didn't know. But you didn't need the logistics, because it all settled in for you.

It's you. It's always you. It always has been, and always will be. The most beautiful bouquets of your favorite flowers sat around the room, no flower petals on the floor because you both agreed that that was impractical. A bucket of champagne sat cooling right by the glass doors that outlooked the view, the most perfect view. It was then you realized that it was more than Dawson who picked this room, it was Nico, wanting to share the space with you. It was Nico who knew how much you'd love the view. It's Nico. It always has been, and it always will be.

When your eyes locked from across the room, your eyes finally looking up at his, which you knew had been on yours the whole time, you couldn't cross the room fast enough. And when your lips locked with his, everything else floated away. It was like nothing else mattered. As the snow fell in the background just behind you, you knew that it didn't matter where you were, and it didn't matter who came in the way. It was always you.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

How To: Overcome Distractions in the Workplace

This fic will cover the “I give you permission to kiss me like that any time in an effort to keep me quiet.” square on my @jacklesversebingo card and the Multiple Orgasms square on my @spnaubingo card.

It will also fulfill this gif request for my 2K follower celebration. The amazing @suckitands33 sent me the gif in the title card above. Hope you like what I've done with it, lovely.😊

Summary: Mr. Smith wants you to practice dealing with distractions...him being the biggest one of course.

Pairing: Dean Smith x Reader (You) (Use of Y/L/N - your last name)

Warnings: Smut. Pure Smut. Dom!Dean Smith. Sub!Reader. Vaginal fingering. Hand spanking. Unprotected PinV sex. Semi-public sex. Multiple orgasms. Slight overstimulation. And okay, there's a bit of fluff. 😁

Word Count: 2,379

A/N: So, I got a fair few requests for a sequel to How To: Dress for the Position You Want, so I thought I'd do a whole "How To:" series with these two. There will be two more that will cover my "Safe Word" square and my "Sub!" square in my SPN AU bingo card. Not sure how quickly I'll get them out, but I'll work on it.

Just an FYI that I envision this fic taking place about three or four weeks after the original. Y/N and Dean have a somewhat established relationship now. You'll see how that plays out. Hope you all enjoy. ❤️

Dean One Shots || Dean Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The divider below was created by @talesmaniac89

Your legs were like jelly as Mr. Smith approached you in the conference room, his face set in determined lines as he closed the door. You couldn’t take anymore. Your muscles were so weak as it was, walking around the office already felt like running the last mile of a marathon.

All day he’d been cornering you. It started first thing. 

You'd been in the file room at the end of the hallway, pulling the documents you’d need for the big board meeting that was happening at two o’clock. He walked into the cramped, slightly dusty room and closed the door behind him.

“Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N. I wanted a word with you before the day started.”

You looked up at him as he approached you, your breath kicking up as you noticed the look of pulsing heat in his gaze. 

“Yes, sir?” You enquired breathlessly.

He stopped three feet short of where you stood and twirled his finger in the air. “Turn around.”

You felt your stomach hitch and you turned slightly, still looking at him. 

“All the way around. Slowly.” He corrected. 

You did as he asked and when you faced him again, he was frowning. “Mm hmm…that’s what I thought. Your skirt is exceedingly short, far too short for the office.”

You smoothed down the little black skirt you were wearing. It came to just above your knee, but it did flare out quite a bit when you turned quickly, which you were all too aware of, and had planned to use to your advantage whenever your boss was nearby.

You pouted slightly and raised the hem of your skirt a bit, showing the silky slip underneath. “But, sir, I’m wearing something under it.”

Mr. Smith snorted and stepped closer so that he could slide his hand under the hem of your skirt. His big hand ran up your thigh and over your hip, pushing the skirt and slip up out of his way. A groan slipped out of him and his hard fingers flexed on your ass cheek, denting the skin.

“And no fucking panties.”

You grinned mischievously as you shook your head and moved his hand to the front. “Not true, I’m wearing a thong.”

He rubbed his thick fingers against the tiny scrap of fabric that barely covered your pussy. “Of course, otherwise you’d be indecent Ms. Y/L/N. And we can’t have that in the office now can we?”

You wanted to answer something cheeky, but lost the ability to speak when he pushed aside the tiny triangle of silk and took your clit between his thumb and forefinger. He rubbed gently and you fell forward, burying your face in the shoulder of his blue suit jacket. His fingers were magic and they worked you apart in mere moments. He didn’t even get push inside you, he didn’t have to.

The scent of him and the feel of his hard, thick body against yours was more than enough to already have you wet and aching. His fingers plucking and rubbing, teasing and tormenting you were more than enough to send you over the edge. You bit into the expensive fabric of his jacket as you came all over his hand. 

As he pulled away from you, leaving you wobbly on your feet, he shook his head. “Meet me in my office after my nine thirty, and we’ll have a proper conversation about the company dress code.”

That proper conversation had consisted of him turning you over his knee and delivering a spanking that made it hard to sit down for the rest of the morning. 

Then, just after lunch, you’d been in the Xerox room making the copies you’d need to create the binders for the board meeting. Despite the poor lighting and toner smell, you sort of liked the copy room; it was always warm from the machines and their hum was soothing. So, you were daydreaming and not really paying attention as the door opened and Mr. Smith came up behind you.

He grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. You were about to let out a scream of surprise and fear, but he slammed his mouth down roughly on yours before you could get out a squeak. 

As he came up for air, he rubbed his thumb across your kiss-swollen lips. “Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to scare you, or kiss you so rough.”

You shook your head, enjoying the moment of ease and lightness between you both. Usually, at work, the roles of Mr. Smith and Ms. Y/L/N were strictly adhered to. The moments when he was just Dean and you were just Y/N were reserved for after hours when you were at his apartment or yours, snuggled up on the couch. You both enjoyed the strong lines you drew between work life and non-work life, so you stuck to them.

But the odd moments where Dean popped up instead of Mr. Smith were still sweet. You kissed him softly as you shook your head, smiling at him. “I give you permission to kiss me like that any time in an effort to keep me quiet.”

He chuckled lightly and kissed you again, slowly, softly, sweetly. “God you’re so fucking perfect.” He said quietly when he finished. 

Your eyes were shining as you gazed up at him. “Right back atcha.”

After a minute he straightened up and cleared his throat. Mr. Smith was back, and a thrill shot through you. 

“However, I’m curious why, an hour before the meeting, you’re still gathering together documents. Shouldn’t the presentation materials be ready by now?”

“Yes sir.” You said, trying to hide a grin. “I’m afraid I’ve been a little distracted.”

Mr. Smith’s expression became calculating and he passed a hand over his mouth in contemplation, making you want his hands and mouth on you immediately. 

“Hmm…I think maybe it’s time you learn to turn in good, timely work despite any distractions you may encounter. So, keep copying your documents and assembling your binders. Practice ignoring what I’m doing.”

“Yes, sir.” You said, turning back to the copier and knowing full well, you were going to fail. 

He started off small, moving up close behind you and simply opening a few buttons on your blouse so he could tweak your nipples through your silk bra. But that small distraction alone caused you to accidentally set the machine for a thousand copies of something when you only meant to make ten.

He reached forward to hit the stop button for you. “Concentrate Ms. Y/L/N.” He said, his voice smug.

You nodded, but you were already gone again as he tucked the hem of your skirt and slip into your waistband and slid his hand down the front of your thong. He rubbed your clit briefly, just passing over it as he slid his thick fingers into your dripping hole.

Your knees gave out slightly. “Oh, fuck.” You whined as you slumped against the copier. 

His other hand came around your body and pinched your nipple hard, making you cry out. “Stand up straight.” He growled. “And focus on your work.”

“Yes, sir.” You breathed out again as you tried to stand under your own power. But his searching fingers had found your sweet spot and were rubbing against it steadily. “Oh god, please.” You begged pitifully, but whether for more or less of him you weren’t sure. 

He ignored the plea. “Concentrate.” He ordered again, and you nodded. 

As he fucked you with his hand, you put through the last of your copies, trying desperately not to just burn to ash on the spot. As the papers ran through the machine, Mr. Smith dipped his head to nip at your neck, causing you to reach your hand up behind you and run your fingers through his hair.

He sped up the pace of his hand pumping in and out of your body, three fingers stretching you open and allowing your juices to run down your thighs and his wrist. As he pumped in and out of you, he slid his fingers over your g-spot, constantly bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

Finally, just as the machine beeped the end of its work, your climax hit and Mr. Smith slammed his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet once again as you shouted out your pleasure. You convulsed against him, and as your climax ended, he went to work on the next one, and the next and the next bringing them on one on top of the other, and in record time. 

By the time he was finished with you, you were slumped over the copier, skirt and slip both pushed to your waist, your thong around your ankles.

You could feel his cock rock hard against your ass just before he pulled away, and you were hoping he’d fuck you with it. Or let you suck him off. But he simply stood up straight and fixed his jacket and tie. 

“I would say you failed this lesson, Ms. Y/L/N. I’ll expect you in my office within a half hour for discipline.”

You straightened up slightly. “But the board meeting is in a little over an hour. I don’t have time to-”

“You will make time, Ms. Y/L/N or you may find yourself looking for a new position.”

Logically you knew of course that he wasn’t going to fire you. It was all part of the game, but you still hurried to put yourself to rights and get going on all the things you had to finish before the meeting. Compiling the binders alone would take half an hour, nevermind all the other things that needed to be set up in the conference room for the presentations that would be happening.

Which was why you never made it to Mr. Smith’s office. You’d finished the binders and rushed to the conference room to do everything quickly, before going to see him. You knew you’d be late, but at least you’d be done. But as usual there had been a million small problems that arose; every time you took care of one issue another one popped up. 

People kept texting you and pulling you away from the conference room, so that by the time Mr. Smith was angrily stalking through the door, you were finally just finished, with barely twenty minutes before the meeting was to start. 

You tried to head off his annoyance as the door clicked shut after him. “Mr. Smith. I was just finished and on my way to you.”

“Yes? Almost an hour late.” He said, still striding forward.

“Yes, sir. I do apologize but-”

You let out a squeal as he reached you and roughly bent you over the edge of the massive table. Without a single word more, he threw up your skirt and slip and began to spank you harshly. You were panicking as you reached behind you and tried to push your skirt down and stand up.

“Dean, what are you doing? Anybody could come in here, let me up!”

But he didn’t budge and you couldn’t move. He simply gathered your wrists at the small of your back before delivering a particularly solid blow, making you yelp at the sting. 

“You think this behavior is acceptable? Hmm? You just ignore my direct orders and then think it’s okay to address me so informally?”

You shook your head, frantic. “No, no, but we can’t do this here, I mean…” He spanked you again and your pussy clenched. Your heart was pounding and you felt a little sick to your stomach at the idea of someone walking in and seeing you in this position. But if you were being honest, it was also unbelievably hot. 

He paused briefly. “You using your safe word, sweetheart?” He asked, and you shook your head again. 

“Good.” He answered as he kicked your feet apart. “Then shut up and take your punishment.”

You nodded as he yanked your thong aside and lined up briefly at your entrance before slamming himself to the hilt in one deep, hard thrust. He drove into you over and over, so hard you knew you’d have bruises from where he gripped your hips as well as on the front of your thighs from the hard mahogany conference table. 

After a dozen strokes you could feel your cunt tighten, about to come again. But Mr. Smith brought his hand down hard against your ass cheek, the smack echoing around the cavernous room and making you chew on your fist to stop from screaming.

“You do not have permission to come, Ms. Y/L/N. What sort of punishment do you think this is?”

Your pussy ached from need, but you nodded and focused all your concentration on not coming around his cock as he slammed home and emptied into you completely. His hips rocked against you falteringly a few more times before he slumped onto you, crushing you slightly. 

All too quickly, though, he stood up and pulled out of you; you whined at the loss. But you straightened up quickly, rearranging your clothes and trying to fix the mess of the papers that you’d crumpled beneath your torso. 

You watched Mr. Smith tuck himself away just as the handle on the conference room door rattled. You gasped from fear but then frowned with confusion as the handle didn’t turn and then a small knock sounded.

Mr. Smith zipped himself up and then smoothed down your skirt in the back, before moving towards the clearly locked door. As he approached it he turned back to throw a wink your way, speaking softly. 

“Don't worry, I gotcha baby, not gonna let us both get fired. This is way too much fun.”

You grinned at him as he unlocked the door that he’d obviously managed to lock earlier while you were thoroughly distracted by his annoyed expression and the prospect of what he might do. 

He opened the door and walked out before a couple of other secretaries and assistants came in to get things ready for their particular executive. 

You wondered briefly if they suspected what went on behind the closed doors with Mr. Smith, but you decided you just didn’t care. Dean was right; this was way too much fun.

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[hollowed-theory-hall]

Dumbledore is a little full of himself

Like, I read Tales of Beedle the Bard, and I was struck by how Dumbledore comments on his own cleverness and knowledge in his notes incredibly often:

This prejudice eventually died out in the face of overwhelming evidence that some of the world’s most brilliant wizards(3) were, to use the common phrase, “Muggle-lovers”. [...] 3 Such as myself.

(Albus Dumbledore on “The Wizard and the Hopping Pot”)

I think I may say, without vanity, that both my Fountain and my Hill performed the parts allotted to them with simple goodwill. Alas, that the same could not be said of the rest of the cast.

(Albus Dumbledore on “The Fountain of Fair Fortune”)

Even I, Albus Dumbledore, would find it easiest to refuse the Invisibility Cloak; which only goes to show that, clever as I am, I remain just as big a fool as anyone else.

(Albus Dumbledore on “The Tale of the Three Brothers”)

The guy can hardly talk about anything without talking about how smart and wise and brilliant he is. Like, no humility whatsoever.

In the books, everyone keeps singing his praises like Dumbledore can do no wrong and the only one who keeps saying Dumbledore can be wrong is Harry. And even then, in Harry's limbo vision of King's Cross, which I don't think is really Dumbledore, it's telling Harry envisions him saying something like this:

“And you knew this? You knew — all along?” “I guessed. But my guesses have usually been good,” said Dumbledore happily

(DH, Ch35)

Dumbledore doesn't speak to Harry all that often throughout the series, with book 6 being the one he interacts with him the most. And we see that even in conversations with people, Dumbledore loves to hear how wise and great he is. When he says "I might be mistaken" it's with the tone of "I'm right and everyone else is wrong". Which is usually the case often enough, yes (though not always), but he does it a lot, and I found it interesting how often he uses this phrasing and how smug he seems about it:

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers — “Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!” (GOF)

“I may be wrong,” said Dumbledore pleasantly, “but I am sure that under the Wizengamot Charter of Rights, the accused has the right to present witnesses for his or her case? Isn’t that the policy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Bones?” he continued, addressing the witch in the monocle. (OotP)

“Payment?” said Harry. “You’ve got to give the door something?” “Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Blood, if I am not much mistaken.” (HBP)

Dumbledore uses this phrasing when he knows what he is saying is correct. He is saying it not because he thinks he might actually be wrong. When he actually thinks he is wrong, he makes excuses and tries to reason why the decision he made was actually reasonable at the time:

“Harry, I owe you an explanation,” said Dumbledore. “An explanation of an old man’s mistakes. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young ... and I seem to have forgotten lately...”

(OotP)

He is incapable of saying: "I was wrong, it happens, let's move on," it has to come with reasoning or an excuse. He blames it on his age, not that he made a wrong judgment call. This isn't humbleness.

Dumbledore is a character who wants to be humble but just isn't. he considers modesty a virtue. Hell, humility is practically his favorite trait Harry possess:

Harry, who could not see any way out of this without flatly lying, nodded but still said nothing. Slughorn beamed at him. “So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond — you were there, then?

(HBP) - Slughorn mentions how Dumbledore appreciates modesty.

The third brother in the story (“the humblest and also the wisest”) is the only one who understands that, having narrowly escaped Death once, the best he can hope for is to postpone their next meeting for as long as possible.

(Albus Dumbledore on “The Tale of the Three Brothers”)

He appreciates being humble and modest and sees it as being wise. He derides Tom for thinking of himself as "special" or "clever" even when it's true (and when he does the same). He loves Harry's modesty, which is really low self-esteem, not modesty. Harry's low self-worth is like the ultimate humbleness in Dumbledore's eyes because he doesn't see it for what it is and he was never humble in his life, so he doesn't really know where the balance between confidence and arrogance is or the line between modesty and low self-worth. I think he honestly doesn't know because he is exceptionally arrogant.

Dumbledore created this image of ineffability around him and it's clear Harry is one of the only people (besides Dumbledore and Aberforth) who knows Dumbledore can make a mistake and he keeps reminding Hermione, Lupin, and literally everyone else of that fact:

“People have said it, many times. It comes down to whether or not you trust Dumbledore’s judgment. I do; therefore, I trust Severus.” “But Dumbledore can make mistakes,” argued Harry. “He says it himself. And you” — he looked Lupin straight in the eye — “do you honestly like Snape?”

(HBP)

This is all another case of Dumbledore being incapable of practicing what he preaches. He values modesty, but he doesn't seem to be capable of it.

Now, I'm not saying he isn't clever or special, he is. But he is the type of really smart person who looks down on anyone they don't see as intelligent as them. He doesn't see most people as equal to him.

Dumbledore doesn't see most of the Order or Aberforth as his equals. He never did. Elphias Doge kisses his ass, but Dumbledore clearly doesn't share the same level of respect for him. Or for most people, really.

“Elphias Doge mentioned her to us,” said Harry, trying to spare Hermione. “That old berk,” muttered Aberforth, taking another swig of mead. “Thought the sun shone out of my brother’s every office, he did. Well, so did plenty of people, you three included, by the looks of it.” Harry kept quiet. He did not want to express the doubts and uncertainties about Dumbledore that had riddled him for months now. [...] “Grindelwald. And at last, my brother had an equal to talk to someone just as bright and talented as he was. And looking after Ariana took a backseat then, while they were hatching all their plans for a new Wizarding order and looking for Hallows, and whatever else it was they were so interested in.

(DH)

Dumbledore doesn't trust the majority of the Order with anything because he doesn't think they'd be capable of handling it because they're not him. He literally tells them nothing until he has to, keeping them busy guarding a prophecy he knows can't be stolen by a run-of-the-mill Death Eater. He only tells Harry about the Horcruxes because he has no choice but to tell him. Same with Snape — Dumbledore trusts him out of necessity.

Snape and Grindelwald are the only people we see Dumbledore show respect towards their abilities, wisdom, and magic in some capacity.

Like, he calls Sirius clever, but he talks about him as foolish in the same breath. He calls McGonagall wise, but he clearly doesn't think she's wise enough to be told anything or trusted with anything. And while he does speak highly of Harry's courage and humility and though Harry is insanely powerful and with the right training could beat Dumbledore, Dumbledore keeps putting him down when it comes to magical abilities/intelligence compared to himself:

“I’m not upset.” “Harry, you were never a good Occlumens — ”

(HBP) - even though Harry can and does get really good at it once he does it his way.

“I do not think you will count, Harry: You are underage and unqualified. Voldemort would never have expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place: I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine.”

(HBP)

I find this tendency of Dumbledore to be really interesting. He underestimates people constantly and thinks too highly of himself. and he is very honest about it to people's faces. He keeps talking about how Voldemort’s defenses on his Horcruxes are shit, and how Voldemort is foolish when the curse Voldemort left on the ring is literally killing him at that very moment:

“I do not think you will count, Harry: You are underage and unqualified. Voldemort would never have expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place: I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine.” These words did nothing to raise Harry’s morale; perhaps Dumbledore knew it, for he added, “Voldemort’s mistake, Harry, Voldemort’s mistake ... Age is foolish and forgetful when it underestimates youth. ... Now, you first this time, and be careful not to touch the water.”

(HBP)

Dumbledore thinking himself so clever, more clever than Voldemort, is what killed him. His arrogant insistence that he's the smartest man in the room killed him. He is undermining Voldemort for mistakes similar to the ones he makes regularly when interacting with Harry. And he's aware of that. He knows he's a hypocrite:

When I discovered it, after all those years, buried in the abandoned home of the Gaunts—the Hallow I had craved most of all, though in my youth I had wanted it for very different reasons—I lost my head, Harry. I quite forgot that it was now a Horcrux, that the ring was sure to carry a curse. I picked it up, and I put it on, and for a second I imagined that I was about to see Ariana, and my mother, and my father, and to tell them how very, very sorry I was . . . “I was such a fool, Harry. After all those years I had learned nothing. I was unworthy to unite the Deadly Hallows. I had proved it time and again, and here was the final proof.”

(DH) - Dumbledore's portrait

I think Dumbledore's self-awareness is why he wants to like Harry as much as he does. While I don't think Dumbledore knows Harry as well as he thinks he does, what Dumbledore does see is enough for him to imagine Harry in his head as this perfect, virtuous martyr that he wished all his life to portray himself as. He idealizes who he imagines Harry is without fully respecting Harry as his own person with his own abilities.

I just find it interesting that for a character who speaks so highly of humility, he doesn't seem to possess it, and that it ends up being the death of him.

[charmingnovak]

AUTUMN SPARKS || emily prentiss

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ emily x female reader ᯓ★ˎˊ˗

Summary: You’re a single mom and attorney, balancing a demanding career with raising your energetic three-year-old daughter, who has no sense of stranger danger no matter how much you try to teach her. One crisp autumn morning at the park, she runs up to a striking woman with a dog, sparking an unexpected connection that feels like a new beginning.

It was a crisp autumn morning in Washington, D.C., the kind of day where the golden sunlight filtered through a canopy of fiery red and amber leaves, casting playful shadows on the ground. A slight breeze carried the earthy scent of fallen foliage, and the occasional crunch underfoot broke the peaceful ambiance of the park. You were there with your three-year-old daughter, whose energy seemed boundless as she darted between the playground and a squirrel she seemed determined to befriend.

You adjusted the cream-colored knit sweater you’d thrown on over your favorite pair of faded jeans, grateful for the steaming cup of coffee warming your hands. Despite the serene setting, you couldn’t entirely shake the vigilance that had become second nature to you. Life as a single mother had taught you to always stay one step ahead, especially with your little whirlwind of a daughter. She was fearless, with big, curious eyes and a laugh that could melt the hardest heart. But her lack of stranger danger awareness often left you chasing after her, reminding her not everyone was kind or safe.

This wasn’t the life you’d envisioned a few years ago. Back then, you had a picture-perfect plan: a growing career as an attorney specializing in family law and what you’d thought was a solid partnership. But behind closed doors, your ex-partner’s charm had given way to anger, control, and, eventually, abuse. The day you decided to leave was the day you realized your daughter deserved better, and so did you.

With support from a few trusted friends and relentless determination, you’d rebuilt your life. You filed charges, testified, and ensured your ex-partner ended up where he belonged: behind bars. You’d used your own skills as an attorney to navigate a complex legal system, knowing firsthand how difficult it was for survivors to get justice. Now, your days were a delicate balance of courtroom battles, late-night case prep, and making sure your daughter never felt the weight of the world you carried on your shoulders.

This morning, however, you’d promised yourself to leave work at home and focus on your little girl. Watching her dart around the park in her little pink jacket and butterfly-patterned boots, you felt a swell of pride. She was strong, spirited, and oblivious to the weight of the past—just as you wanted her to be.

A sudden burst of giggles pulled your attention, and you turned to see her sprinting toward a woman walking her dog. Your heart skipped a beat as you quickly followed, knowing all too well her habit of approaching strangers like old friends.

The woman was striking, with dark, shoulder-length hair slightly tousled by the breeze. She wore a well-worn leather jacket over a burgundy scarf that framed her olive-toned face, and her piercing dark eyes softened as she crouched to meet your daughter at eye level. The dog, a sleek black rescue mutt with a wagging tail, seemed just as delighted by the encounter.

“Can I pet your dog, please?” your daughter asked, her excitement bubbling over as she reached out without hesitation.

“Of course,” the woman replied, her voice smooth and warm. “Shadow loves gentle pats right behind his ears. He’s a bit of a diva, though - only the best will do.”

Your daughter giggled, carefully following her instructions as Shadow leaned into the attention. You approached quickly, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. She’s... very social.”

The woman stood, her lips curving into an understanding smile. “She’s fearless,” she said, her gaze flicking between you and your daughter.

“She takes after her dad in that way,” you replied, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Quickly, you added, “I’m just trying to keep up.”

Her dark eyes softened, and she nodded. “You’ve got a great kid. She’s lucky to have you.”

Something about her tone, so sincere, so kind, caught you off guard. You weren’t used to people seeing past the polished attorney facade to the mother doing her best to keep it all together. “Thank you,” you said softly, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with your coffee.

As your daughter continued to play with Shadow, you and the woman - Emily, as she introduced herself - fell into an easy conversation. She mentioned her job in the Behavioral Analysis Unit, though she kept the details vague. You shared bits of your own story, carefully skirting the heavier parts. Still, Emily listened intently, her full attention on you in a way that felt disarming.

“I can’t imagine how you do it all on your own,” she said, genuine admiration in her voice. “You must be some kind of superhero.”

You laughed lightly, waving her words off. “It’s not easy, but she’s worth every second of it.”

“She really is,” Emily agreed, her gaze drifting to your daughter, who was now trying to teach Shadow how to play tag. “And it’s obvious you’ve raised her to be brave and kind. That’s no small thing.”

Before you could respond, Shadow decided to steal the granola bar your daughter had been holding. She let out an indignant squeal, and you rushed forward, but Emily was already crouched by her side, gently pulling Shadow back.

“Shadow!” she scolded playfully, shooting your daughter an apologetic smile. “He’s supposed to be making friends, not stealing snacks.”

Your daughter pouted for dramatic effect, and Emily quickly added, “How about I buy you a hot chocolate to make up for it? And maybe I can bribe your mom with one too?”

The hint of flirtation in her tone caught you by surprise, and you found yourself smiling despite the chaos. “I think we could be persuaded,” you replied, meeting her gaze.

As the three of you walked to the nearby café, your daughter happily chatting about marshmallows, you couldn’t help but feel the first spark of something new. For the first time in a long time, the weight of your past felt a little lighter - and the future, a little brighter.

[fernpetals]

Fragile

An extension of THIS ask

More of Yandere Tom Ludlow and his dollification-kink

Warning: Stalking, manipulation, infantilization, implied restraining and dub-con, manhandling, abuse of authority, power imbalance, dollification(obviously), corruption kink, non-con caretaking, implied age-gap, hints of conditioning and, blackmailing

Credit to the GIF owner.

Unedited Piece.

Soft yet dark Tom, a little rough around the edges maybe. Anyway, enjoy!

In his twenties, Tom had foolishly envisioned his forties— a picture-perfect life with a wife, a dog maybe, even kids–the typical picket fence scenario. He was young, he could dream, he was naive, and he could dare to have a rose-tinted lens for the police department.

Now he truly is in his forties and reality is staring back at him as the paperwork piled on his desk and a cold home to go back to. Tonight, he won’t have to though— he is going to hunt those motherfucking drug dealers responsible for a shootout and he is going to make sure to get them bloody. But of course, Officer Tom Ludlow would be home at the time, as per records.

That pretty much sums up Tom Ludlow in his forties. He is cynical, he is self-loathing and he has nothing to lose, or look forward to. His only purpose, honouring his oath- ‘To Serve and Protect’.

Be it by any means necessary.

Well, that is until you come into the picture. Like the warm sun on a winter morning, he simply wants to bask in your light, in your warmth. Tom never realised that somewhere, he had that craving for warmth and sweetness alive in him until you came into his life.

How can it be selfish to want you all to himself? You have no fucking idea how nasty the world can be. And you sweet little thing alone there? You might have survived until now by some miracle, but Tom cannot risk it anymore. 

He loves seeing you in sundresses. The warmer months are suddenly his favourite. You, in a soft, pretty sundress and a cone of your favourite ice cream? Tom realises that he is not immune to heart eyes after all. He is head over heels for you. Tom is so lucky to have you in his life. 

Though maybe the same can’t be said about you.

Tom sees you as a fragile little thing. Especially if you are a regular civilian, especially if you are younger. You do not understand how ugly the world can be, how dangerous it can be. Of course, he needs to keep track of you twenty-four-seven—what do you mean you are going out all by yourself beyond that convenience store? Even that is forbidden after sundown. He simply loves taking care of you, making you dependent on him, making you need him so that even the thought of leaving him never occurs in your sweet, sweet mind.

Imagine getting frustrated and so disappointed at his behaviour—you yell angrily and he acts like you are throwing a tantrum and need to calm down—the power imbalance is glaring and it is the red flag you had so foolishly ignored in the beginning of the relationship. But if you think you can leave, Tom will only shake his head—you naive little thing. Don’t you see? He is on the top of the chain. He has the means and all the loopholes. He can keep you locked up in his home for a long, long time and no one would even know. Who knew that his other home on the city's outskirts could be of such good use? You can come back to your normal life once the stupid notions of leaving leave your pretty little head—don’t try to pretend and lie to him, he will sniff it out in seconds.

And if you are not in a relationship with him, he is going to patrol the area you live in quite often. Suddenly, you see his car frequently in your neighbourhood. Imagine just getting home late for some reason— work, party, just some quality time with yourself or with friends, maybe even a hook-up and a police car pulls up, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Don’t you know how dangerous it is this late?” 

He is going to interrogate you then and there. Where were you? What were you doing? When do you walk out of your office normally? It is weird, but he towers upon you and has this piercing stare and the kind aura that screams ‘authority’ and you find yourself answering him instead. Much to his pleasure.

If he gets any hint about a possible relationship or hook-up. That guy is royally fucked. In a couple of days, you get the news of him being involved in some case, or crime and now he is behind bars? Or maybe he is sent to the hospital for a while? Either way, you are not seeing him again.

Yandere Tom is the type to insert himself in your life and your personal affairs—you do not like it? You do not know what’s good for you, he knows best, and he will take care of you. If you test his patience though, you will find yourself cornered, literally. 

“Do you even know how the world works? You go skipping around like a little doe, dressed so pretty, without a care. You need me. Now quit it and get into the car before I make you.”

He is not afraid to manhandle you, though he keeps in mind to be unrelenting and firm, while not hurting you. But that’s all. Other than that, you can swear, scream or beg all you want. If he decides that something or somewhere is not good for you, there is no changing his mind. You can only try to hurt him with your cute, bare hands, it amuses him.

He is the type to blackmail you into entering a relationship with him. And if that doesn’t work, he is not above kidnapping you.

So, either way, you are ending up under his roof, under his control so that he can pamper and protect you like he always wanted to. He dresses you up in sweet and bright-coloured clothes—sundresses, especially and pounces at every chance to flip it over and sink his tongue, finger or length into you. And he makes sure that you enjoy it. Every time you come, you are looking into his eyes and mewling his name like the good little doll that you are.

Imagine him using your fear to his advantage—his anger is scary, and while is will never lay a hand on you, there are other people he can beat into a pulp and if you don't want that, better behave. He does not like the fact that you are afraid of him, but if that is what keeps you in line and safe, so be it.

He loves to have his hand all over you, it’s like a need—he has to be touching you all the time he is at home. He is addicted– to you, to your presence, your light, your touch. There is no going back. You are his sweet, fragile doll— so don’t fight him, you will only exhaust and frustrate yourself.

[red-takami]

HII NORTH ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) do you know a lot about manifestation/how to practice it? if so what has ur experience been with it? i have a follow up question but i dont want to sound like im interrogating you 😭 ill probably ask it after this question/in the comments of this question

Honestly I'm not good at it all that much 😭 besides shifting and actively experiencing a change, I almost never try any other methods of it because of how weird/complicated I make it on accident while trying.

In my personal experience, manifesting is like boomerang, you throw out your intention and you receive it back physically. It's sort of unpredictable, like sometimes you experience results immediately, or not for a long time. Sometimes it's not exactly what you envisioned, or maybe it's EXACTLY what you envisioned - but it's not what you needed in that instance yk?

I don't do it a lot, because unfortunately I get demotivated extremely easily. If I don't see results immediately then the doubts make it almost impossible to keep faith in my own intentions. Which is why whenever I shift, I make sure to have whatever I desire in mind so that way I don't need to go through all of this trouble for it.

When I was a younger kid, I would listen to subliminal messaging RELIGIOUSLY. Like every single day for at least a few hours at a time. I did this for probably around 3 years, starting when I first found out about subliminals and not stopping until I experienced something that had kinda made me realize the gravity of doing so like I did.

Nothing bad, at least not this first experience anyway. I remember back then, I was obsessed with werewolves specifically from twilight. It crossed my mind every single day so of course I was willing to jump into anything that could promise my own experience in such a life as a twilight werewolf 😭. I looked and explored all over the internet for different subliminals made by different sources and different affirmations, and no results at all. Eventually though, I just found I grew extremely patient with the results I was waiting for, I found that I genuinely just enjoyed the couple 3 or 4 main subliminals I had found enough to listen to them without the anticipation in my belly making it hard to be in the moment. Of course, back then I didn't realize this, nor did I realize what happened because of this newfound relaxation until one morning I woke up and the teeth in my mouth had all changed shape entirely. I looked in the mirror getting ready for school and vividly remember just standing there with my mouth open and frozen in my spot. My teeth were absolutely a different shape before this morning. I had fallen asleep that night to a subliminal and coincidentally, one of the affirmations were fangs and sharp k9's. This took the relaxation and turned it into slight intimidation. Made me realize that whatever I was doing, was working somehow. It was intimidating.

Second experience, years later in 2020 I had picked up subliminals once again after a year or two break from it, and instead of wolf subliminals - it was shifting subliminals. I won't name the account because honestly I can't remember but they're extremely problematic. I'm not the only bad experience with this account and their subliminals. I had fallen into the same routine, falling asleep to the subliminals daily, everything was fine enough at first that I didn't realize anything was wrong. Just chalked it up to my brain being an asshole.

Over time, and continuing to listen to those affirmations religiously, I started to experience some scary shit back to back, more than normal. Nightmares that weren't lucid but felt more vivid than reality, where the contents were nothing but darkness and pure malicious invasion of my mind and dream state. It was disgusting. I stopped after I realized what the reasoning for these things was, and eventually even heard the same exact stories from other shifters who used that accounts subliminals.

I don't use subliminals at all anymore, but only because I know I don't need them. However, if I did, I now know for a fact that this shit is serious, manifestation is real and you need to take caution with what you're trying to make your reality. This was my second time being shown this, and now my main form of manifesting is just shifting, so I'm sorry if that's not helpful. Feel free to ask anything else!!!

[luckyroll3]

Quid Pro Quo: Chapter 1

Masterlist and Summary

Warnings: This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only. Includes explicit sexual content, graphic language, some violence, etc. Author chooses to not extensively tag in order to preserve some elements of storytelling.

Word Count: 9,558

You sit at your usual table in the bustling student center, absentmindedly twirling a pen as you wait for your new tutee to arrive. You glance at your watch for the third time in as many minutes. You look back over to your floormates Jess and Sam sitting across from you. 

"Did you hear about Sarah hooking up with Matt at the party on Friday?" Jess leans in conspiratorially, her voice a dramatic whisper. "Apparently they were all over each other on the dance floor."

Sam rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Knowing Matt, he probably sweet-talked her with some cheesy pickup lines. That boy is shameless."

You chuckle at their antics, enjoying the lighthearted gossip session. Jess launches into another scandalous tale about someone called Josh from the Business School.

"I'm telling you, he's slept with half the cheerleading team already," Jess whispers conspiratorially, her eyes wide with gossip. "Lisa said he's got some special move that drives the girls wild."

You roll your eyes, suppressing a grin. "And I'm sure Lisa has firsthand experience, right?"

"Well, no, but—" 

"Don't encourage her," Sam interjects with a knowing smirk. "You know how Jess loves to embellish."

The three of you dissolve into giggles, the easy banter a welcome distraction from your waiting. The person you were supposed to be tutoring was already 5 minutes late. 

Suddenly, a smooth voice cuts through your laughter. "Excuse me, I'm looking for my tutor. Any chance you lovely ladies can point me in the right direction?”

You look up, the words dying on your lips as you take in the sight before you. Tousled bleached blonde hair frames a face that belongs on a magazine cover, complete with deep dimples, a broad nose, thick pink lips, and warm brown eyes that crinkle at the corners. The casual jeans and black hoodie hug his athletic frame in all the right places. You’ve seen him around campus and at parties – he’s kind of hard to miss – but you’ve never actually spoken to him before. He holds his phone out to you, and points at a name. Your name.  

"That’s me," you say, clearing your throat. "I'm your tutor. You must be Chan?"

You notice Jess and Sam exchanging meaningful glances, eyebrows raised. They clearly recognize him too and must have gossip about him like they do about everyone. Interesting.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he takes you in, a slow dimpled grin spreading across his face. He clearly had not envisioned someone who looked like you. "Wow, I wasn't expecting... I mean, you're not exactly what I pictured when they said, 'best math tutor on campus.'" 

Funny how the men always seemed to be caught off guard. And you're never sure whether to be flattered or offended. "And what exactly did you picture?" You propped your fist up under your chin.

Chan's grin widens, revealing perfect white teeth. "Honestly? Some nerdy chick with thick glasses, a pocket protector, and maybe corrective shoes." He shrugs as he pulls the chair out and sits next to you. “And certainly not stylish.” His eyes take in your pink crop top and dark gray wide legged jeans that hugged your hips.

You can't help but laugh. "Sorry to disappoint. My pocket protector’s in the wash. I’ll be sure to have it with me next time if that makes you feel more comfortable." Chan smirks at your joke, his eyes never leaving yours. “This is Jess and Sam,” you say, pointing towards your friends. 

“Hey Jess and Sam,” he says, flashing them his smile before turning back to you.

“Hi Chan. Uh, we should get going,” Sam says hastily. “We were just keeping her company while she waited…” She and Jess hurriedly gather their things. 

“Have fun studying,” Jess calls over her shoulder as they scurry off, leaving you alone with the blonde bombshell.  

You watch your friends as they walk away, whispering between the two of them as they continue to glance back at Chan. Turning back to him, you clear your throat. "So, shall we get started?"

Chan's cocky demeanor falters slightly as he lets out a frustrated sigh. "I have to admit, I’m really struggling in differential equations. I kind of bombed my first exam. Like, spectacularly. I’ve never failed anything before. I’ve never even gotten below an A- in any of my courses! My professor suggested I get some extra help."

You nod understandingly. "That's why I'm here," you reassure him. “Let me give you a quick rundown of how I tutor and my rates, then we can dive in."

For the next hour, you pour over Chan's exam, dissecting each problem he got wrong. Your passion for the subject shines through as you enthusiastically explain the underlying concepts, using real-world examples to make the material come alive.

To your pleasant surprise, Chan listens attentively, absorbing your words. As Chan explains his frustrations with the material, you find yourself impressed by his intelligence despite this particular academic setback. He asks thoughtful questions, determined to grasp the ideas fully. His brow furrows adorably as he works through a particularly tricky concept. He seems to genuinely care about improving his understanding. Plus, the intense focus in his captivating brown eyes is rather attractive.

"Okay, let's break this down step by step," you say, leaning in closer to guide him through one of the problems. The subtle scent of his cologne teases your senses, and you silently chastise yourself for noticing. 

Over the next hour, you lose yourself in the elegant dance of numbers and variables, your voice growing more animated as you explain the intricacies of differential equations. Chan proves to be an attentive student, his initial bravado melting away to reveal genuine curiosity and a quick mind.

But your session is interrupted several times. A perky brunette approaches your table, her eyes fixed on your tutee. "Hey Chan," she coos, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I didn't know you studied here."

Chan's demeanor shifts instantly, his smile widening as he leans back in his chair. "Only when I have a beautiful tutor," he says with a wink in your direction.

You roll your eyes, but can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. "Flattery will get you nowhere, especially not in differential equations, sir," you quip as you tap your pencil on his textbook, earning a laugh from Chan.

Twenty minutes later, two more girls stop by, batting their eyelashes at him. You observe with amusement as he effortlessly juggles their attention, his charm cranked up to a thousand.

"Ladies, ladies," he says after a few minutes, "As much as I’d love to continue our chat, I'm in the middle of a very important tutoring session."

You snort. "Oh, now it's important?"

Chan grins at you, his eyes twinkling. "Always has been. How else will I impress you with my mathematical prowess?"

As the girls reluctantly drift away, you can't help but admire Chan's ability to navigate social situations with such ease. It's like watching a performance, and despite yourself, you're entertained.

"Wow," he says as he finishes working through a complex problem at the end of the session. "You really know your stuff. I think I actually understand some of this now."

You flash Chan a warm smile as you gather up your notes. "That's great! I'm glad I could help. If we keep meeting regularly and you keep putting in the same effort you showed today, we'll have you acing these exams in no time."

Chan leans back in his chair, giving you a smoldering look. "With a tutor as brilliant and stunning as you, how could I not be motivated to give it my all?"

He winks flirtatiously and you can't help but chuckle. Throughout the session, you noticed how Chan turned on the charm anytime a cute girl walked by your table, making them blush and giggle. But you see right through his player persona.

"You should save your cheesy pick-up lines for the girls over there eyeing you," you tease, nodding your head towards a group of freshmen near the cafe counter who keep glancing your way and whispering. "I don't mix business with pleasure."

"Pity," Chan sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "And here I thought my devilish good looks and witty remarks were winning you over."

"Keep dreaming, Casanova." 

“Unlike Casanova, I’m 100% clean. I get tested monthly,” he says, cocking his head to the side with a sly smirk. “Hey! Did you call my pick-up lines ‘cheesy’??” he asks, in mock offense, followed by a smile. “That’s certainly a first.”

“Yup!” You roll your eyes playfully as you slide the textbook back into your bag. "I will say, when you weren’t distracted by ass and tits, you were a very attentive student today. Here’s what you owe me.” You hand him the invoice.

Chan's eyebrows raise as he examines the total. “Ouch,” he says, but he pulls out his wallet without complaint. "But I'd say you're worth every penny... and more," he adds suggestively. 

You simply shake your head in amusement as you accept his payment, immune to his flirtations after years of dealing with cocky jocks, handsy frat brothers, and other self-assured fuck boys who became humbled when they needed your help to pass math and physics. Still, you have to admit there's something magnetic about Chan's presence, a spark of intelligence and humor beneath that bad boy exterior that intrigues you. And damn, he is cute. The problem is he knows it.

"Seriously though, thanks for being so patient with me. Same time next week?" he asks, flashing that dimpled smile that you're sure has broken countless hearts.

Shouldering your backpack, you give him one last appraising look. "Yup. Don't forget to do the practice problems I assigned."

"As you wish." He grins roguishly. "I await our next meeting with bated breath."

You laugh again, before turning and walking away, very aware of Chan's eyes following your every step. This is going to be an interesting semester, you think to yourself as you head to your next class. 

Later that evening, you're sprawled on your bed in your dorm room. Jess sits in your desk chair and Sam is on the floor eating chips. The two of them rehash the day’s events. The conversation soon turns to your new tutee. 

“I can’t believe you’re tutoring THE Bang Chan,” Jess says incredulously, pausing in the middle of painting her toenails a vivid red. 

“Do they really call him that? Bang Chan?” you ask curiously. You know his full name is Chan Bahng. 

Sam jumps in. “Yes, Bang Chan. As in the notorious fuck boy who’s probably slept with two-thirds of the girls on campus. 

The room erupts into giggles and excited chatter. "Oh honey," Jess says with a grin. "Everyone knows Bang Chan. He's only the biggest player on campus!"

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Really? I mean, I noticed he was flirty, but—"

"Flirty?" Sam snorts as she sets down her bag of Ruffles, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. "Girl, you have no idea. That boy is trouble, with a capital T. Fuck, all the letters are screaming at you! He’s broken more hearts than I've had hot dinners. They call him the 'One Night Stand King'. He never hooks up with someone more than once."

“You would know this if you didn’t spend all your time in the physics building or with your boyfriend at the Phi Theta Nu house,” Jess says as she points the nail polish brush in your direction. 

“That’s why I hang out with you bitches! So you can catch me up on all the campus drama and gossip I miss.” Jess and Sam laugh at you. 

As your friends launch into increasingly outrageous stories about Chan's exploits, you feel a strange mix of fascination and disbelief. Could the attentive student you tutored really be the same person they're describing?

“I heard he slept with three of the sorors from KEK in one week, and not one of them knew about the others!” Sam continues. “And they all lived on the same floor!"

"Oh, and get this," Jess leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper as if the three of you weren’t alone. "I heard from my friend who fucked him freshman year that he's absolutely mind-blowing in bed. Like, earth-shattering good." She tightens the cap on the nail polish bottle and sets it on the desk. 

Sam nodded her head vigorously as she popped another chip into her mouth. “I’ve heard that too. That he works hard to get each girl off. That’s a miracle in and of itself, given how awful and selfish most of these guys are when it comes to our pleasure.”

"That part! And apparently, he has a magical tongue, if you know what I mean," Jess adds with a salacious wink.

The three of you devolve into loud laughter. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed Chan’s devilish smile and the sinful way he bit his plush lower lip. You're about to ask for more details when a knock at the door interrupts the gossip session. The scent of yummy food wafts in as your boyfriend Changbin enters, bags of takeout in hand. His handsome face breaks into a sweet smile at the sight of you.

"Hey babe," he greets, pecking you on the lips before holding up the food. "I brought dinner.” Changbin's eyes sweep over the room, taking in your friends and the remnants of your gossip session. “I didn’t realize you two would still be here, but there’s enough for everyone," he offers.

“Best boyfriend ever,” you declare as you move to help him with the food. 

"Mind if I join the party?"

Your friends eagerly accept, and soon you're all sprawled across the floor, plates balanced on laps as the conversation flows. The aroma of spicy chicken and savory noodles fills the air, mingling with laughter and playful banter.

After a few minutes of catching up, Changbin raises an eyebrow. "So, what were you all talking about before I got here? I could hear you laughing down the hall!"

Sam giggles, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Oh, we were just filling her in on Bang Chan's reputation."

Changbin's expression shifts, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Chan? I know him. We play soccer together sometimes in the pickup games on Saturdays."

You lean in, curious. "Really? What do you think of him?"

Changbin shrugs, his muscular shoulders rolling beneath his fitted shirt. "He's actually a pretty nice guy. Killer on the field, but always fair. I’ve also heard from a couple of my frat bothers who are also engineering majors that he’s really fucking smart. Why? What have you ladies heard?" Changbin turns his attention to Sam and Jess, fully aware of their gossip queen reputations.

As your friends launch into a recap of Chan's notorious exploits, you find yourself torn between their salacious stories and your own experience. "He was my tutoring student today," you interject. "And yeah, he was flirty, but he was also polite and seemed genuinely interested in learning. I could tell he was also very intelligent."

Changbin nods, a thoughtful look on his face. "That tracks. He's got quite the reputation, but I've never seen him be disrespectful or mean. Just... very popular with the ladies." He ticks his head to the side and smirks before shoving a forkful of noodles into his mouth. 

“Does it make him a bad guy that he likes fucking around?” you ask sincerely. “He’s apparently single; from what you all have shared he offers nothing more than sex, then moves on. As long as he’s not tricking or forcing anyone, I don’t get why it’s a big deal.”

“True, true,” Sam agrees. 

Jess doesn’t look too sure. “It’s probably more about the volume and that he also fucks friends,” she adds after thinking about your comment for a few seconds. 

Changbin doesn’t really care and just continues eating, grabbing an eggroll from your plate with a cute smirk. You make a face at him. “What,” he says after taking a bite. “You know you’re not gonna eat it.”

As the conversation shifts to other topics, you can't help but ponder the complexities of Chan's character. Your mind wanders, comparing him to Changbin, wondering about the different types of men and relationships that exist in this world, especially considering the whirlwind of rumors surrounding Chan. You push the thoughts aside, focusing on the moment at hand, but a small part of you remains curious about the enigma that is the ‘Bang Chan’.

Later, after your friends have left and your dorm room is quiet once more, you and Changbin settle onto your bed. His strong arms encircle you, pulling you close as you cuddle together. Having a single this semester means that the two of you get to spend a lot more alone time together. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, comforting and enticing all at once. You rest your head on his sturdy chest as his fingers trail gentle patterns along your back. 

"Can you believe it's almost our one-year anniversary?" Changbin muses, his deep voice vibrating beneath your cheek. "Time flies when you're with someone as amazing as you."

You tilt your head up to meet his warm gaze, your heart fluttering at the open affection shining in his eyes. "I feel the same way. Being with you has been the best part of this whole college experience."

Changbin's hand comes up to tenderly brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I want to make our anniversary special, baby. Is there anything in particular you want to do to celebrate?"

Nibbling your lower lip, you contemplate his question. In truth, all you really want is to spend uninterrupted quality time with the man you’ve been falling for over the past 10 months. No distractions, no studying, no gossip about cocky fuck boys with sinful smirks...

Just you and Changbin, savoring each other's presence, and maybe… something more.

You snuggle closer, relishing the feel of him. "Just spending time with you is enough," you reply softly. “I don’t need anything fancy. I just honestly want to disconnect from everything and everyone but you.” 

Changbin's pink lips curve into a soft smile. "That sounds perfect.”

He leans in, capturing your mouth in a tender kiss. Your eyes flutter shut as you melt into him, relishing the gentle pressure of his lips on yours. It's chaste and sweet, just like most of the kisses you've shared over the past year.

And yet...

A tiny, secret part of you can't help but yearn for more. To feel the heat of desire, the intensity of passion, the urgency of wandering hands and fervent kisses. Your thoughts stray to the erotic stories your friends shared earlier, of Chan's alleged prowess in the bedroom....

Mentally chastising yourself, you force those illicit musings away, focusing instead on the warm solidity of your boyfriend's frame against yours. Changbin is perfect – caring, respectful, patient. He deserves your full attention and devotion.

As his fingers continue to trace lazy patterns along your spine, a shiver runs through you. You can't help but wonder if Changbin wants more from your relationship. Over the past year, your physical intimacy has been limited to these chaste kisses and some gentle petting, and you're acutely aware of how accommodating he's been to your general lack of interest in intimacy, despite having sex with his previous partners. A perfect gentleman.

Gathering your courage, you tilt your head back up to meet his gaze again. "Binnie... do you want more from our relationship?"

His dark eyes soften as he looks at you, a mix of tenderness and desire in their depths. "I only want what you want," he says sincerely. "My priority is making sure you're happy and feel safe. We can take things at whatever pace you're comfortable with. There’s no need to rush anything."

“Okay,” you whisper.

His words fill you with a comforting warmth, like slipping into a hot bath on a cold night. In that moment, you make a decision, one that feels both monumental and inevitable. Silently, you promise yourself that for your anniversary in two months, you'll take things to the next level with Changbin. He deserves it, and if you're honest with yourself, you want it, or rather him, too. You want his touch, his closeness, the deeper connection that comes with truly giving yourselves to one another emotionally and physically.

No more holding back, you tell yourself. You have just over two months to prepare, to get comfortable with the idea. As a sign of this new commitment to yourself and your relationship, you gently slide Changbin’s hands from your lower back to your ass. The movement is slow and deliberate. “That’s better,” you whisper. Your breath catches in your throat as you wait for his reaction.

Changbin lets out a low, appreciative chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your body. He squeezes gently, testing the waters, and you feel a spark of arousal shoot through you. His lips find your neck, and he begins to pepper it with light, teasing kisses, each one sending a tingling wave of sensation down your spine.

You close your eyes, savoring the moment, the feel of his strong hands and warm lips. This is what you want. To be closer to him, to experience the physical side of your feelings for him. As you lay there in his arms, your mind drifts to thoughts of what that next level might entail. You try to imagine what it will be like when you finally cross that line: the heat of his skin against yours, the weight of his body, the mingling of your breaths. It’s a tantalizing thought, and a mix of excitement and nervousness flutters in your stomach.

****

The library hums with quiet activity as you settle into a table towards the back. You’re looking forward to seeing Chan again. Despite his reputation, you enjoyed talking to Chan, and he was a fun and attentive student last time. Maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye. 

Speaking of the “fuck boy” in question, you see Chan approaching, his blonde hair slightly tousled and a grin playing on his lips as he struts towards the table like he owns the place. Which, let’s be honest, he might as well. Every woman in the building, young and old, cast him longing glances as he passes by, but his eyes are only on you. 

“Hey tutor,” he drawls, flashing that alluring grin, “ready to help a desperate man?” As he slides into the seat across from you, you catch a whiff of his cologne – a subtle, woodsy scent that's oddly enticing. “Oh, and before you say it, I know I’m irresistible. I just can’t help it.”

"Hello, Chan," you say, feigning exasperation, but you can't help the little upturn of your lips. "I'll help you, but only if you promise to behave yourself."

"Scout's honor," he says, holding three fingers up playfully. 

"Heh, good. Ready to tackle some more concepts?"

Chan's eyes light up with a mix of enthusiasm and mischief. "Absolutely. I've been practicing, you know. Might even impress you today."

You raise an eyebrow playfully. "Oh really? Let's see what you've got, blondie."

As you dive into the session, you're pleasantly surprised by Chan's progress. He's quick to grasp concepts that stumped him before, and you find yourself laughing at his clever quips between problem sets.

The next two hours fly by in a flurry of notes, examples, and Chan's near-constant, yet surprisingly endearing, banter. He's actually put in the effort and it’s clear he’s been studying.

"See? Told you I'd impress you," he says with a wink as you wrap up.

You roll your eyes but can't suppress a grin. "Alright, alright. Don't let it go to your head."

As Chan reaches for his wallet, his expression shifts, turning serious for once. "Hey, um... about the payment," he starts, his usual confidence faltering, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features. He hands over the bills in his hand. "I hate to ask this, but... is there any chance I could get a discount?” An uncharacteristic blush creeps up his cheeks.

"Chan, if you can't pay today, it's fine," you assure him, offering the cash back. "We can work something out; you can get it to me next week. We also don’t have to do two hours every time."

He shakes his head. “No, that’s yours. You earned it.” He meets your gaze. “I… I can’t pay for any more sessions at this rate after our next session.” Chan runs a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed. "Yeah, it's just... I'm here on scholarship, you know? Most of what I make from my campus job goes back home to help my family. I totally get it if you can't give me a discount, though." 

His admission catches you off guard; you’re surprised by this sudden vulnerability. So, the infamous "fuck boy" may have a heart after all.

As he speaks, you notice how he's trying to maintain his cocky demeanor, but there's a genuine worry in his eyes that tugs at your heart. Suddenly, an idea strikes you – one that makes your pulse quicken with both nervousness and excitement.

"Actually," you begin, your voice lowering conspiratorially, "I might have a proposition for you." You pause, thinking about the best way to phrase your question. "But first, I have to ask... what's the deal with your reputation as the campus 'fuck boy'? I heard they call you ‘Bang Chan’?"

Chan's eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting this turn in the conversation. Then he lets out a laugh, his dimples deepening. "Wow, straight to the point, huh? I like that." He leans back in his chair, a glint in his eye. "Well, I won't deny it. The rumors are true. I am, for lack of a better term, a fuck boy.”

"And you're okay with that label?" you press, genuinely curious.

He shrugs, still smiling. "Look, I don't think there's anything wrong with it as long as I'm upfront about my intentions. No false promises, no declarations of relationships or love, no repeat customers, no broken hearts – just fun between consenting adults. I’ve never seen the point in stringing women along or pursuing those who aren’t interested when there are so many who are willing to hook up with no attachments if you just come right out and ask."

As he speaks, you feel a mix of admiration for his honesty and a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. 

“I like how practical you are about it. And you’re right. Despite what society tries to tell us, women’s sexual drives are just as high, if not higher than most men’s.” He nods in agreement, clearly impressed with your non judgemental take. You take a deep breath, preparing to make your unconventional offer. You lean in towards him. “How about we… negotiate?”

His interest piqued, Chan leans in too. "I'm listening."

You lower your voice. "Okay, here's my proposition. I'll waive your tutoring fees for the rest of the semester if..." You pause, your heart racing. "If you agree to teach me about… intimacy."

Chan's eyes widen, his usual cocky demeanor faltering for a moment. "Wait, what?" He searches your face, as if trying to determine if you're joking. You’ve shocked him for the second time in less than 5 minutes. 

"Well, here's the thing," you say, biting your lower lip. "I need to... gain some... experience."

Realization dawns on Chan's face, and a sly grin spreads across his lips. “Really?!? Not sure what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that!”

"I'm serious," you say, surprised by how taken aback he seems by your request. "I want to take things to the next level with my boyfriend, but I have zero experience. Who better to learn from than the campus expert?"

Silence settles between the two of you. Chan runs a hand through his tousled blonde hair, his expression a mix of surprise and interest. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "This is... unexpected," he says finally. "But I’m intrigued. Give me a minute to think about this."

As he considers, you find yourself holding your breath. You anxiously twirl your pencil as your mind races with thoughts of Changbin, of your upcoming anniversary, of the potential benefits and consequences of this deal. You turn your focus back out externally to notice Chan's eyes roaming over your body. He just smirks when you catch him.

After what feels like an eternity, Chan leans forward, his brown eyes locking with yours. "Alright, I'm in. But we need to set some strict terms."

You nod eagerly. "Of course. What did you have in mind?"

"First," he begins, his tone suddenly businesslike, "this is purely transactional. No catching feelings, no strings attached. I’m assuming you’re a virgin?” 

“Yes,” you say, unashamed. “Will that be a problem?” 

He sighs. “I usually don’t fuck virgins because they tend to get…”

“Clingy?” You finish for him. 

“Yes. They tend to get clingy. If either of us starts developing feelings, we end it immediately. Agreed?" And by ‘either of us’, you assume he means you and your clingy virginity. 

"Agreed," you say without hesitation. "I have no interest in complicating things. This is just about learning. No clinginess, no drama. It’s simply not my style. I’m coming at this from a completely practical perspective. Just mutual… assistance."

Chan nods approvingly. "Good. So, in exchange for diff eq tutoring, I'll teach you about sex – from kissing to... well, everything I guess." He smirks, his confidence returning. "That means we’ll spend time alone together, and we’ll have to touch and other things, building our way up to fucking, if that works for you."

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, but you maintain eye contact, determined to convince him that it’s not a big deal. Because it’s not in your mind. Simply a quid pro quo – your services for his. You talk about sex all the time; you’re just not having it and it’s finally time to rectify that. "Understood. You get what you need from me to pass your class and I get what I need from you to confidently seduce my boyfriend. Shake on it?"

Chan extends his hand, and you take it, feeling a small thrill at the contact. "Deal," he says, his signature charming smile returning. "Now, let's figure out our schedules. One diff eq session and one... ‘intimacy’ session per week?" You nod.

As you pull out your phone to compare calendars, you can't help but wonder what you've just gotten yourself into. But the thought of surprising Changbin on your anniversary pushes any doubts aside.

****

The following week, you meet Chan at the house he shares with 3 other guys to continue your tutoring.  

You stand on the porch, your heart racing with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before knocking on the door.

Chan answers almost immediately. The door swings open, revealing him in a fitted black t-shirt and jeans that hug his muscular thighs. His blonde hair is slightly damp, as if he just showered. The scent of his soap, a minty eucalyptus smell, washes over you.

"Hey tutor," he greets with that signature dimpled grin. "Come on in."

You follow him inside, taking in the typical college guy decor – mismatched furniture, video game systems, posters. But you can’t help but notice how tidy the place is; everything is surprisingly clean and organized. It’s the opposite of what you’d expect in a place where 4 college-aged boys live. 

“Who’s your housekeeper,” you ask. 

"Impressed?" Chan asks, noticing your wandering gaze. "It’s me. My roommates are fucking slobs, but I think after a year, I’m finally rubbing off on them," Chan explains as he leads you to the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a Mr. Clean.”

“There were no housekeepers in my neighborhood. We all had to chip in at my house.”

“Same in mine,” you say as you take a seat at the kitchen table. “My friends all had housekeepers, but my parents didn’t believe in that shit. They both grew up poor and didn’t want my brother and me to think that having money meant other people did basic stuff for us. We washed dishes, we did our own laundry, we did lawn maintenance…”

“Damn, even we didn’t have to mow the lawn!” Chan laughed. “But that’s cool of your parents to keep you guys humble.”

The two of you dive into the session, reviewing his notes from this week. You're pleasantly surprised by how quickly Chan grasps the new concepts you introduce. His face scrunches adorably in concentration as he tackles each question, only occasionally glancing up to catch your approving nods. 

After returning from the bathroom, you lean over Chan's shoulder, pointing out an error in his calculations. "See here? You forgot to apply the chain rule."

Chan's brow furrows as he studies the problem. "Ah, I see it now, shit! Thanks.”

As you explain the correct approach, you're acutely aware of his proximity. You retake your seat and continue to watch him erase and scribble as he works out the problem.

"You've really been practicing," you comment, unable to keep the surprise from your voice.

Chan looks up, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Well, I've got a pretty great tutor motivating me," he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes playfully. "I told you, flattery will get you nowhere, mister."

"Oh really?" Chan leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Because it usually gets me everywhere." He smirks. 

"Alright, alright.” You flip a few pages in the textbook. “Try this next one on your own," you say, sliding the textbook towards him and pointing out a particularly tricky problem.

As Chan works through the equation, you can't help but notice the way his t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, or how his tongue darts out to wet his lips when he’s in deep concentration.

"Okay, I think I've got it," Chan says triumphantly after solving it. He looks up at you, his brown eyes sparkling, as he slides his notebook in front of you. You review it, nodding. 

“Nice work.”

“You’re impressed?” He leans back, placing his hands behind his head and quickly arching his eyebrows several times.

You can't help but smile. "I am. You've clearly been putting in the work." You hand him back his notebook and close the textbook. “Let’s call it.”

As you wrap up the math portion of your meeting, a nervous energy settles between you. Chan clears his throat, his cocky demeanor faltering slightly.

"So... I guess it's time for your lesson now?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.

You nod, your heart rate picking up. "I guess so."

Chan stands, looking at his watch. "Let's move somewhere more comfortable. Plus, I think a couple of my roommates will be home soon."

He leads you to his bedroom and motions for you to place your things on his desk. 

You stand awkwardly, your heart pounding. Chan leans against the wall, his brown eyes studying you intently.

"Don't look so nervous. I don’t bite... unless you ask me to.” His lips curve into a mischievous smile, causing you to shake your head at his ridiculousness. “We'll start slow." He walks over to stand directly in front of you. "So," he says, breaking the tension. "Show me how you usually kiss. Don't overthink it."

You take a deep breath and step closer, Chan's scent filling your senses. You place your hands on his shoulders and press your lips against his, holding them there for a few seconds before pulling away.

Chan's dimples appear as he smiles warmly. "That was... gentle. Sweet, even. But let's work on technique."

You feel your cheeks burn. "That bad, huh?"

He chuckles. "Not bad, just inexperienced. Here, let me show you."

Chan cups your face with one hand, his thumb grazing your cheek. "First, create anticipation," he murmurs. His eyes flick to your lips, then back to your eyes. You find yourself holding your breath. “Start exactly how you did before, soft and gentle, but then let it develop into something deeper by opening your mouth slightly, using your tongue to slightly tease, and when they part their mouth in response, slip your tongue in and massage theirs. Like this.”

As his lips meet yours, they are soft and gentle, yet determined. He moves slowly, deliberately, guiding your mouth to part slightly and tilting your head for a better angle. Your body instinctively leans into him, craving more. You feel the gentle probing of his tongue against your lips, and you respond by eagerly accepting it. His tongue explores every nook and cranny of your mouth, and you press yours back against his.

Changbin has kissed you like this before, but never for long. He never wants to seem like he’s pressuring you to do anything. But the way Chan is kissing you is so sensual, yet intense, you actually feel like your knees might buckle. You can see why all the girls on campus are so taken by him. 

After a moment, he pulls back. "See the difference?" 

You nod with your eyes closed, a bit dazed. "Definitely." He laughs at your response.

"Now you try," Chan instructs. "Remember, it's about connection, not just pressing lips together."

As you lean in again, you think, I can do this. It's just practice, like math. But when your lips meet his this time, it feels anything but clinical. You replicate what he just showed you. At the same time, you feel him clasp your hands, which are hanging lifelessly at your sides, and bring them behind his neck. You interlace your fingers in the new position. After a few moments, you pull your lips away. 

“Good. And remember to touch him. Rub his back, grab his ass, and if your hands are around his neck like they are now, run your fingers through the hair at the nape.”

You slip your fingers up into his hair, toying with the curls forming at the back of his neck. “Like this?”

“Just like that,” he whispers with a smile. “Now the functionality of this shifts with the position.” He retakes your hands in his and leads you to the bed. He sits and motions for you to get on him. His hands settle on your hips. “If you’re straddling your partner, it’s similar to standing. Wrap your arms and legs around me and go again.”

You bring your lips back to his. The kiss quickly deepens, and you sigh lightly when you feel Chan’s hands slide to your lower back, continuing on to your ass. Chan smiles against your lips at your reaction, which causes you to laugh and break the kiss. 

“Sorry,” you chuckle. “You just caught me off guard.”

“That’s okay. Just get comfortable with it.” He squeezes your ass playfully. “Your boyfriend doesn’t grab your ass? It’s a great ass.” 

“He’s pretty respectful. If I told him to grab it, he would.” You lazily twirl your thumbs on the back of his neck. 

“Keep doing that. That feels good.” He leans back in to continue the kiss. After a few minutes he leans back on the bed, pulling you on top of him. “Don’t stop,” he whispers against your lips. And you don’t. He eventually rolls so that you’re both on your sides, facing each other. “You’re a quick learner,” he says when he finally allows you to come up for air. 

"Well, I've got a pretty great tutor motivating me," you smirk with a wink, mimicking his comment from earlier. 

“Ha! Well, you do! I am the best.” He readjusts both of you, pulling your body closer to his, and repositioning your top leg over his hip. “Now when you’re lying down, kissing can get uncomfortable. But if both of you are into it, it shouldn’t matter. And rolling around usually helps. Got it?”

“Got it.” You don’t wait for him to tell you to try again, you just dive in. His positive feedback has helped you grow your confidence in a short period of time, and you’ve surprised yourself by how comfortable you feel making out with him, when you’ve never really done it with anyone before. 

****

That weekend, you and Changbin sit in his car after a tasty dinner at your favorite Italian bistro. The restaurant's neon sign casts a soft glow through the windshield, illuminating Changbin's face as he leans toward you. His eyes, warm and inviting, flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. Your heart races with anticipation.

"I had a great time tonight," Changbin says softly, his hand reaching for yours.

You smile, gathering your courage. "Me too."

As he leans in for what he expects to be his usual gentle peck, you surprise him by cupping his face with both hands. You hold him in place, tilting your head slightly as you deepen the kiss. Your tongue traces his lower lip before easing into his mouth.

Changbin makes a small sound of surprise, then leans into the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck. The console between you digs into your ribs, but you barely notice, lost in the sensation of his lips moving against yours.

When you finally pull away, both slightly breathless, Changbin's eyes are wide with pleasant surprise. "Wow," he breathes. "That was... unexpected. But amazing."

You can't help but grin, a mixture of pride and excitement coursing through you. "I've been practicing," you admit, then quickly add, "In my head, I mean. Imagining. And watching porn." You grin.

Changbin chuckles, his thumb caressing your cheek. "Well, your imagination is impressive. What else have you been imagining?" And after a beat he adds, “and what kind of porn???”

“Don’t you worry about that!” you laugh. “I don’t ask you about your porn, you don’t ask me about mine.” 

“Deal!” he says with a chuckle. “Cause some of my porn is pretty cringey!”

As he starts the car, you ask softy, "Hey, Changbin? Can you stay over tonight?"

He glances at you, his expression a mix of excitement and concern. "Are you sure? I thought you had to study."

"I'm sure," you nod, your heart pounding. "I can study tomorrow."

Changbin happily agrees, his face breaking into a wide grin. He’s slept over before, but usually, the two of you only cuddle. You want to do more tonight. 

After washing your face and changing into your PJs, you climb into bed with Changbin. He’s in his undershirt and boxers, his muscular arms and legs on display. He cuddles you like he’s done many times before. "So, what do you want to do?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You take a deep breath. "I want... I want more," you say hesitantly.

Changbin raises an eyebrow in surprise. "What kind of ‘more’?"

You blush, feeling suddenly shy about voicing your desires out loud. "I want... to... make out with you," you say in a small voice. 

"Okay then," Changbin whispers before leaning in to kiss you again.

This kiss is deeper than the one in the car, filled with unspoken promises and longing. His hands roam over your back as yours tangle in his hair, drawing him closer. His hands wander slowly down your back. You gently guide one of his hands to your ass and encourage him to squeeze, like you did the week prior. He’s hesitant at first, but then he grabs two handfuls of flesh, making you yelp.

“Sorry,” he whispers against your lips.

“It’s okay. I liked it,” you whisper back with a smile before you playfully nip at his lip. He laughs and resumes kissing you. One of his hands moves to cup your breast through your shirt, making you moan into his mouth. It feels so good. You pull him on top of you, and the two of you spend a few hours making out heavily.  

As you wake the next morning, your lips throb and tingle delightfully from last night's passionate kissing. You're surprised by how much you enjoy the slight discomfort, not realizing that your lips could get sore. But it makes sense, you rationalize in your head, since there must be muscles there that help them to move and pucker. 

While you eat lunch, you can't stop smiling at the memory of Changbin's happy face as he left your dorm room. His gentle kiss goodbye still lingers on your lips and in your heart. If this is what you’ve been missing out on with him, you can’t wait to explore more.

**** 

You can barely contain your excitement as you settle into your usual table in the student center for your next session with Chan. As soon as he arrives, flashing that signature dimpled smile, you blurt out, "It worked!"

Chan's eyebrows shoot up as he slides into the seat across from you. "Someone's in a good mood," he teases. "What worked?"

"The kissing techniques," you whisper, leaning in conspiratorially. "Let's just say my boyfriend was very impressed."

Chan's laugh is warm and genuine. "Look at you, becoming a master seductress already." He winks, then adds, "I did pretty well too. Aced my last quiz."

"That's fantastic!" You hold up your hand for a high five, which he enthusiastically returns. 

As Chan starts on his homework, you can't help but notice biting his lower lip again when he's thinking hard. It's... distractingly cute.

The rest of the session flies by, the two of you falling into your easy rhythm of banter and problem-solving.

"So," Chan says, as you're both packing up. "Ready for your next lesson?" His voice drops an octave.

You nod, trying not to appear too excited. "Where to, professor?"

Chan grins at the nickname. "Um… let’s go to the Sandbar. It’s still early, so it will be pretty quiet before happy hour starts. Perfect for... practical demonstrations. Plus, my roommate is the bartender, and he’ll hook us up."

At the bar, Chan introduces you to one of his roommates, Minho, who drops off a pitcher of beer and two chilled pint glasses to your booth tucked away in a dimly lit corner towards the back. 

As Minho walks back to the bar, Chan moves to your side of the booth and leans in close. "Foreplay," he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear, "is all about building anticipation. It starts long before you hit the bedroom. It's in the way you look at your partner, the casual touches."

"Show me," you whisper.

"The key," he whispers in your ear, his voice a sensual purr, "is taking your time.” Chan's fingers trail lightly along your arm, barely touching. "It's also about suggestion," he explains. "Hinting at what's to come." His hand moves to your neck, fingertips grazing your skin. "Teasing them until they're aching for your touch. How does that feel?"

"Tingly," you admit, your voice slightly breathless. "Like little electric shocks."

He nods approvingly. “Explore every inch of your partner's body, paying special attention to their erogenous zones. Graze, nuzzle, kiss."

His skilled fingers move to your lips, brushing lightly against them before trailing down your chin to your sternum. Your breath catches as his hand grazes the exposed skin of your cleavage, followed by his thumb circling your sensitive nipple through the fabric of your tank top, which immediately hardens by arousal.

He smiles approvingly. "Moans are your best friend," he huskily informs you, his lips grazing your earlobe. "They let your partner know what you like."

As if on cue, a low moan escapes your lips when he pinches your nipple, spurring him on. His mouth follows his hand’s path, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses down your neck, over your sternum, and onto your cleavage, making your knees weak and pulling more sounds from you.

"See?" he murmurs against your skin, satisfaction lacing his voice. "Communication is key."

With that, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue invading your mouth. His hands slip beneath your tank top, his fingers teasingly brushing against the heated skin of your belly, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

Over the next hour, Chan walks you through the finer points of foreplay – the art of the tease, the power of anticipation, the importance of paying attention to your partner's responses. He demonstrates each technique with a clinical detachment, but there's no denying the heat that simmers between you, the way your body responds to even his most innocent touches.

"Now, your turn. Show me what you've learned."

Emboldened by the beer coursing through your system and the heady rush of new knowledge, you slide closer to him. Taking a deep breath, you extend your hand towards him, feeling the heat emanating from his skin, letting your fingers dance along his forearm and trace his defined muscles. You lean in, nuzzling slightly against his neck, your lips barely brushing his skin as you whisper, "Like this?"

You feel rather than hear Chan's sharp intake of breath. His voice comes out husky when he responds, "Exactly like that." A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you hear the approval in his tone. 

You pepper a few soft kisses on his neck as your hands tickle the skin around the waistband of his jeans, causing him to sigh. "Fuuuck.” His head falls back against the seat. “You catch on quickly."

“Thanks,” you say giddily. As you pull back, you catch a glimpse of something in Chan's eyes – a flash of heat, quickly masked. It makes your heart race, and you wonder if you're getting in over your head.

The moment passes, and Chan rotates his head lazily to stare at you while he leans back in the seat, his signature dimpled smile returning. "Not bad for a beginner," he teases, raising his glass in a mock toast.

You laugh, feeling the tension dissipate as you clink your glass against his.

As the weekday happy hour crowd starts to arrive, your conversation drifts away from the intimate lesson and into more casual territory. You find yourself genuinely enjoying Chan's company, surprised by how easy it is to talk to him. As you talk and laugh together, you’re also surprised at how much you’re opening up to him.

"So, what made you decide to go into mechanical engineering?" you ask, sipping your drink. "Was it always your dream?"

Chan shrugs, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the tabletop. "Not exactly. My parents always pushed me to excel academically, I've always been good at math and science, and I like to build things. Engineering just seemed like the logical choice."

"But is it what you want?"

He's quiet for a moment, considering. "I don't know," he admits finally. "I mean, I'm good at it and I’m interested in designing roller coasters. But sometimes I wonder if there's more out there for me, you know?"

You nod, understanding completely. "I feel the same way about my major sometimes. Like I'm just going through the motions, doing what's expected of me."

"Exactly." Chan's eyes meet yours, a spark of connection passing between you. "It's like, is this all there is? Studying and working and just... existing?"

"Right. There has to be more to life than that," you agree. "Yeah, I want to work for NASA, but I also want to travel, to experience new things… to fall in love." The words slip out before you can stop them, hanging in the air between you.

Chan's gaze softens a bit. “NASA huh?” He smiles and you’re appreciative of him ignoring your last comment. 

“You want to make roller coasters, I want to study black holes.”

“That’s pretty fucking cool! I’ve also thought about building rockets and spaceships, but it felt too far-fetched.”

“Not at all. Tons of mechanical engineers are hired by NASA. But only if they pass Diff Eq,” you tease with a smirk. 

“Ha, ha,” he says sarcastically as he refills your beer. 

As the night wears on, you find yourself losing track of time, too caught up in the thrill of deep conversation, shared dreams, and this apparent friendship you and Chan are developing. Around you, the bar begins to fill with folks interested in cheap beer and discounted food. Clusters of college students talk and flirt and dance to the music spilling from the jukebox.

You become increasingly aware of the looks you and Chan are getting – curiosity, envy, speculative whispers. A group of girls at the bar, in particular, keep glancing over, giggling behind their hands. Chan seems oblivious, his attention focused solely on you.

"Does it ever bother you?" you ask him, nodding towards the onlookers.

He follows your gaze and chuckles. "The attention? Nah, I'm used to it. It’s a burden looking like this," he adds with a wink, followed by a deep laugh. You roll your eyes but can't help smiling. "Besides, it's not like any of what they’re thinking is true tonight."

After the two of you finish a third pitcher, the pressure in your bladder becomes impossible to ignore. "I’ll be right back," you say, tapping him on the shoulder to let you out. “Bathroom break.” You slide out of the booth. 

He nods, his eyes crinkling with a smile. "You’re breaking the seal, lady! So dangerous,” he says with a laugh. “But, hurry back. I’ll be lonely without you," he coos as he sits back down.

As you wait in line for the ladies' room, you can't help but notice the girls a couple spots ahead of you in line. They're eyeing you with blatant curiosity, whispering.

Finally, one of them turns to you with a bright smile. "Hey, are you here with Chan?" she asks across several people, her eyes wide. 

You blink, caught off guard. "Oh, um. Yeah, kind of.” You stammer. “I'm his tutor, actually."

The girls exchange knowing looks, giggling. "His tutor, huh? Is that what he's calling it these days?"

“No, really,” you say with a smile. “I’m tutoring him for his differential equations class.”

She raises an eyebrow, looking skeptical. "Really? You don’t look like a tutor.” She shifts from one leg to another as she sizes you up.

“And yet, I am. Physics major; top of my class.” You’re always slightly irritated that people assume you can’t be cute AND smart.

“That's amazing!" the other girl gushes. You’re not sure if she’s being facetious or channeling some girl power energy.  

You nod and give them a fake smile. 

They turn back to their conversation and a couple seconds later they walk into the bathroom. After 5 more minutes it’s finally your turn and your bladder is fucking thankful. 

As you head back to the booth, you spot Chan standing next to the bar chatting with one of the girls who had just spoken to you. His charm is on full display, dimpled smile flashing as he leans in close, leaning his ear towards her to hear her over the music. Her hand rests on his arm as she laughs at something he says.

You roll your eyes and snicker. You’ve been gone for less than 10 minutes and he’s already on the hunt. This is your signal that it’s time to go. You’ve already taken up a lot of his time tonight.  

You grab your bag and approach Chan at the bar. "Hey, Chan," you interrupt, "I'm heading out. Early class tomorrow."

Chan looks up at you in surprise, his brow furrowing, his smile faltering slightly. "What? Nooooo! Stay; have a couple more drinks," he pleads, those expressive brown eyes locking onto yours. He flashes you that charming, dimpled grin, the one that would make your knees melt if you were into him like that. 

You hesitate, tempted by his request since you were enjoying chatting with him. But then you catch the other girl's side-eye, clearly indicating that she wants him all to herself, and make up your mind. "No thanks,” you say with a smile. “I really do need to get some studying done. How much do I owe you for the pitchers?”

Chan opens his mouth as if to protest, but instead adds, “Don’t worry about. Min took care of it for us.”

“Cool,” you say nonchalantly. “Tell him I said thanks and I’ll see you at our session next week, okay?"

“Yeah, okay.” He watches you as you leave.

“Have fun,” you call out over your shoulder with a wink. 

“You too! And be careful not to give buddy a heart attack this weekend!” he replies with a chuckle before diving right back into his flirting.

As you walk away, you can't help but feel a little excited. You've learned so much tonight, and you can't wait to try it out with Changbin. The thought of his intense eyes softening as you put your new skills to use sends a shiver down your spine.

[gottencents]

012: my favorite coworker pt.2

synopsis. SM Entertainment would’ve loved for FALLEN ANGELS and aespa to never share a stage — especially with Chanel possibly "corrupting" their prized “it girl,” Karina.

____________ ____________ ________ ____________

Chanel had been thinking about this moment for weeks, replaying it over and over in her mind. She wanted everything to be perfect—no, not perfect, but meaningful. She knew Karina was special, but expressing it in a way that conveyed how much she truly cared? That was the tricky part.

It was a tuesday afternoon when Chanel impulsively found herself in a quaint little flower shop downtown, browsing through bouquets that spoke of love, admiration, and deep affection. She didn’t exactly have a plan yet, but something about picking the right flowers, candles, and the perfect ambiance felt like the right starting point. She wanted it all: something intimate, something simple, but still memorable.

By the time Chanel arrived at the rooftop, hours had been spent setting everything just the way she envisioned. The fairy lights strung across the edges cast a warm, romantic glow. The table was adorned with a simple yet elegant arrangement—a mix of roses, ranunculus, and her favorite blooms Karina had mentioned once in passing. She even made sure there were two glasses, two plates, two everything—like this night was all about them, and them alone.

The scent of vanilla candles filled the air, and soft acoustic music played from her phone, the melodies creating a soothing backdrop. Chanel was nervous. Her hands fumbled slightly with the last-minute adjustments, and even though she had imagined this moment countless times, it didn’t seem any easier now that she was standing there, alone with her thoughts.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself, “you got this.”

The elevator doors opened, and Chanel’s heart skipped a beat as Karina stepped onto the rooftop. Her heart swelled the moment she saw her. Karina was effortlessly stunning, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, wearing a simple yet elegant white dress that made her glow even brighter in the evening light.

“You did all this?” Karina asked softly, her eyes wide with amazement as she took in the scene before her.

Chanel smiled nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. “Well, yeah. It’s, uh… kind of for you.”

Karina stepped closer, her expression softening. “This is beautiful,” she murmured, her voice full of warmth. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“But I wanted to,” Chanel said quickly. “You deserve it.”

For a moment, there was only the quiet hum of contentment between them. Chanel could feel the weight of her words, and from the way Karina was looking at her, she knew it resonated.

“You’re always so thoughtful,” Karina said, taking a seat at the table. “It’s one of the many things I like about you.”

Chanel blushed, and for the first time, she could feel her nervousness begin to ease. “Yeah?” she asked softly, sitting across from Karina.

“Yeah,” Karina confirmed, giving her a gentle smile.

Dinner passed with easy conversation. Chanel found herself giggling at Karina’s stories, and Karina laughed at Chanel’s awkward attempts at making small talk. There was no pressure, no need to impress, just them, lost in the simple moments that felt full of meaning.

At one point, Karina leaned back in her chair, looking at Chanel with a warm intensity. “You’ve been so quiet today,” she teased. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Chanel grinned sheepishly, swirling the wine in her glass. “Just… overthinking, as usual.”

“You?” Karina said with a teasing smirk. “You’re always so put together.”

“I’m always put together because you make me nervous,” Chanel blurted, her voice quieter than she intended.

Karina tilted her head slightly, studying her. “Nervous? Why?”

“Because,” Chanel started, trailing off. “Because you’re you, and you’re amazing, and I’m just… me. And this whole thing feels important, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

Karina smiled gently, reaching across the table to take Chanel’s hand in hers. “You could never mess this up,” she said softly. “Just being here, with you, is more than enough for me.”

Chanel’s breath hitched. She felt an overwhelming sense of warmth, of peace. Karina was right there, holding her hand, looking at her like she mattered. And in that moment, Chanel realized how lucky she truly was.

The evening carried on, and soon it was time for the final act of Chanel’s plan. She knew it was time, her heart pounding harder with each passing second. She cleared her throat nervously and stood up, taking Karina’s hand and guiding her to the edge of the rooftop, where the view of the city stretched out before them.

“Okay,” Chanel said, taking a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”

Karina looked at her with soft, curious eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I just…” Chanel started, stumbling over her words. “I wanted to say… more. About us.”

Karina smiled encouragingly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Go on.”

“I know we’ve been doing this for a while now, and it’s been amazing, but I don’t want it to just be fun and casual,” Chanel said, her voice steadying. “I want more. I want you. And only you. So…”

She took a deep breath, her voice steady now, her gaze locked on Karina’s.

“Karina, will you be my girlfriend?”

Karina’s eyes widened in surprise, her lips parting slightly. “Chanel…”

“Yes or no,” Chanel said quickly, still holding her breath.

“Yes,” Karina whispered, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Yes, of course I will.”

A wave of relief washed over Chanel, and before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in and kissed Karina.

The kiss was slow and sweet, filled with months of unspoken emotions and promises they hadn’t even fully realized they were making. Chanel’s heart raced, and Karina’s hands found her face, cradling it gently as they shared a moment that felt entirely their own.

When they finally pulled back, their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling in the cool night air.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” Karina murmured softly.

Chanel laughed quietly, her cheeks flushed. “Yeah?”

Karina nodded. “Yeah.”

For the rest of the night, there was only the quiet hum of their laughter and the warmth of each other’s presence, as they soaked in the realization that this, right here, was theirs.

After the kiss, the room felt warmer, quieter. They pulled back just slightly, both smiling softly, their foreheads gently pressed together.

Chanel let out a quiet breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her heart still racing. “That was—” she started, but couldn’t find the words.

“Perfect,” Karina finished for her, her voice barely a whisper.

The moment lingered. For a while, neither spoke, only soaked in the intimacy that seemed to stretch between them like a shared secret.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this,” Chanel murmured after a while, her voice steady but laced with awe.

“Like what?” Karina asked gently, brushing her thumb over Chanel’s cheek in a tender touch.

“Like… like this could be real. Like I’m not just imagining this moment.”

Karina gave a soft chuckle, leaning back to meet Chanel’s gaze again. “You’re not imagining anything. I’m right here.”

They shared another quiet moment, neither in a rush to speak. Instead, they simply enjoyed the warmth of each other’s presence.

Later, as the night stretched on, they sat close on the couch, watching a movie in the dim glow of the room. The tension from before had settled into something more comfortable—a shared quietness, filled with stolen glances and lingering touches.

Chanel, ever the dorky one, tried to focus on the film, but she kept getting distracted by Karina’s laugh, her small smiles, and how warm her hand felt in hers. Every so often, Karina would steal glances at Chanel, her gaze soft and admiring.

“You’re staring again,” Chanel whispered playfully after catching Karina looking at her for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Can’t help it,” Karina replied with a teasing smile. “You’re really distracting.”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” Chanel teased, grinning as she nudged Karina’s side.

“Yes. Absolutely your fault.” Karina leaned in slightly, her voice lowering. “But it’s a good thing.”

Chanel flushed at that, the warmth from before returning in full force. “You’re too much,” she mumbled, though her smile gave her away.

“You’re just right,” Karina said simply.

And for the rest of the night, the world felt a little smaller, a little brighter, knowing that they had something real—a bond deeper than any words could describe.

____________ ____________ ________ ____________

A/N: texts made to all be incoming on purpose for u to know who talking better <333

Taglist ( closed ) : @saysirhc @awkwardtoafault @yjiminswallet @gtfoiydlyj @1luvkarina @womanl0ver @hazel-tanthamore22 @deuxae @arihiu @spidrgamer @goofymickeyr

[realmbred]

✨         *               :         the   plight   of   a   witcher   was   not   something   that   could   have   been   taken   lightly,   nor   ignored.   people   from   all   over   often   times   called   upon   the   valiant   warriors   to   do   things   that   they   couldn't.   the   only   reason   why   a   town   would   need   a   witcher's   help   was   because   they   could   do   something   none   of   the   townsfolk   could.   if   anything,   a   high   priest   and   sorcerer   would   know   it   from   firsthand   experience.   they   were   the   ones   who   saw   what   happened   when   someone   wasn't   strong   enough   to   go   through   the   training.   when   the   experience   took   them   to   the   edge.   the   amount   of   bodies   that   he   had   to   dispose   should   have   filled   him   with   grief.   after   a   century,   it   ended   up   just   being   a   way   of   life   though.     ❝     my   apologies,   warrior.     ❞       he   almost   used   the   term   my   soldier,   but   that   would   have   been   incorrect.   while   witchers   hunted   monsters,   they   always   got   paid.   they   weren't   loyal   soldiers   and   knights.   unless   one   of   them   decided   to   take   up   that   mantle.     ❝       not   well,   but   not   unwell.   what's   the   term   for   that?   the   infamous   debate.   the   same   way   someone   think   whelmed   is   the   in   between   to   overwhelmed   and   underwhelmed.     ❞       yet   no   one   would   use   that   as   a   part   of   a   regular   conversation.   people   didn't   say   they   were   just   whelmed.     ❝       you'd   like   that,   wouldn't   you?   at   least   i'm   sure   there's   some   witcher   out   there   that   would.   the   thought   that   a   high   priest   gets   hard,   starts   to   drip,   just   because   they're   in   the   presence   of   someone   so   strong.       the   important   thing   is   that   all   of   you   can   swim.     ❞       elenorius   took   in   a   deep   breath,   reaching   for   the   ground   underneath   him   with   his   hands.

there's   a   small   magical   exchange   that   happened.   although   it   was   unclear   if   he   was   absorbing   energy   from   the   dirt   or   pouring   his   own   energy   into   the   land.   his   ears   were   perked   up   as   he   carefully   listened   to   loren't   story.   with   each   vivid   detail   that   he   got,   it   was   like   he   could   envision   the   exact   scene.   he   rolled   his   head,   neck   cracking,   almost   like   he   was   experiencing   the   pains   of   a   long   hunt   that   lasted   several   different   days.     ❝       tricky   little   creatures,   aren't   they?   sounds   like   you   got   to   learn   a   lot   about   varlinnis   though.     ❞     gaze   fell   on   that   torso,   committing   the   scars   to   memory.       elenorius   crinkled   his   nose   too.   almost   like   he   was   smelling   the   flesh   of   a   ghoul   and   alghoul   being   melted   down   and   stinking   up   the   whole   town.   again,   acting   like   he   was   right   there.     ❝       quite   a   way   to   get   your   name.   if   you   got   to   give   yourself   a   title,   for   all   the   hard   work   that   you've   done   and   all   the   experience   you've   had,   would   you   stick   to   fleshrender?     ❞ 

⚔️           *           ﹕ㅤㅤ   the witcher eased himself down a little closer to the fire, leaves and rough earth pressing against his back⸻ shifting here, there, until he finally found the perfect compromise between vigilance and comfort, propping himself up on his elbows. and warmth crawled up his body, seeping into his chest, difficult not to just savor its quiet hum, the kind of comfort he might've ignored years ago when every breath felt like a prelude to another hunt, another fight. now, though ? lorent let himself lean into it, offering a faint snort at the high priest's words, a wry curve pulling at the corners of his mouth.         ❝         alive, sure.          ❞         lorent responded, his voice low and flat, easy to be mistaken for disinterest if you didn't know know him.         ❝         but well ? that's pushing it.          ❞         and there it was, finally some semblance of humor, albeit dry and unadorned. lorent's hand drifted toward the dirt, tracing lazy circles in the ash and fallen pine needles, gaze still pinned on elenorius as his smile twisted into something more double-edged, a hint of disdain yet still light.         ❝         you high priests, though ...          ❞         he murmured, pausing long enough to acknowledge the seemingly proud smile on elenorius' lips.         ❝         bet you get off on it. makes you hard and wet to see your creations be strong and resilient. made something powerful ' nough to endure the worst, then throw it into the deep end to see if it floats. must feel really good and exciting when it does.          ❞         a slight tension in his voice, but mostly buried in lorent's usual indifference, gaze dark and steady on the other man. ❝         most hunts are the same  ﹕  cut down creatures, get coin.          ❞         the witcher gave a slight shrug as he pushed himself upright to sit straighter.         ❝         but there was this town scorched to cinders in the ruins of old varlinnis. a noble family wanted the land cleared so they could resettle it. ghouls and alghouls made it their feeding ground, thick as rats in a granary.          ❞          lorent chuckled, as if memory revisited was still vivid on his mind.         ❝         took me two days to clear the town. just me, my silver sword, and enough elixirs. bastards, dozens of them, kept on coming, so i kept swinging and burning them till my arms felt like they'd shatter.          ❞          he stopped there, hand lifting up his shirt to expose the ridged terrain of torso, a large scar down his left side, pale and jagged.         ❝         from an alghoul smart enough to try something new. tore into me before i gutted it and melted its flesh like wax. they called me fleshrender after that. guess melting down ghouls with magic leaves an impression.          ❞          

[boy-oneder]

"This is the skin of a killer, Bella!"

For ✨ @helinyetille ✨ who wanted me to make a meme based on their post

[cerb-daily]

Cerb made entirely out of triangles please

day 54 - triangles

[pallases]

IM FREEEEEE

[seilon]

you know I hate to use the term because it’s thrown around for unworthy candidates far too often but I can’t deny it jayce talis really truly is a disaster bisexual

[attila-werther]

sextus pompey-mark antony but not in a way that fixes anyone

[gghostwriter]

Out of Sunshine

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Having forgotten your dinner date, Spencer comforts his usually sunshine girlfriend Trope:Fluff & Comfort w.c: 1.2k a/n: been very overwhelmed with responsibilities and wants lately that I just needed to write a self-indulgent fic. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Spencer’s knock on your apartment door was met with silence. It was a starry Friday night and he had arranged a dinner reservation with you, his girlfriend for a year and a half, to the newly opened French restaurant along the main street. With a certain spring in his step, he settled with Hotch, and by extension the team, that he couldn’t be disturbed unless an emergency case comes in—something he silently wished not to happen. He had also picked up a bouquet of your favorites from the local florist. An array of whites that reminded him of the dress he first saw you wearing at the park.

He knocked again, ears straining to hear anything behind the dark wooden door. There was nothing. He balanced the bouquet on one hand and reached for the phone inside his satchel. It was quite unlike you to not answer the door.

The number you dialed is either unattended—

“Strange,” he muttered under his breath. During his morning phone call with you, a much needed routine to tide him through the macabre of his job, you sounded so excited about the dinner he’d planned and had even promised to wear the same white dress that had plagued his eidetic memory. He chuckled in reply before asking any plans for the day. There was a slight pause on your end, no doubt thinking of ways to pass time before night winds down, and you answer—

The studio, he remembered. You mentioned passing by your art studio to occupy time. He sighed in relief as he enters his vintage blue car parked on the the sidewalk, bouquet placed securely on the passenger seat. The clock on the dashboard tells him there’s still time to make it to the reservation, granted he wasn’t sure if you were ready to go.

A non-descriptive tune played from the radio as he turned left to enter the designated parking space of your studio building. It was a mixture of soft piano keys that sounded like spring and sunshine, both adjectives he loved to use to describe you.

When he finally found the courage to fumble his way in asking for your number, the smile that flashed on your face was blinding. It was as if he stared directly into the sun with little to no protection for his vision.

Over the course of multiple dates, he found himself waxing prose about you in his head. The pinking of your cheeks reminded him of strawberries ripening, so tempting to touch with his own pair of lips. The twinkle in your eyes, full of adoration and trust, made him feel strong and protective—like he was some kind of crow guarding his loot of sparkling treasure. And the bounce in your step wherever you’d go had him envisioning a sprig of wildflowers growing from each footprint, the nymph of his very own Spring.

He let himself in the studio, grateful you’ve trusted him with a spare key. “Sunshine,” he called out.

The light inside the four cornered room was on, windows all open for the paint fumes to escape, and there you were, hunched over an easel, furiously painting without any care of your surroundings.

He called your name, softer this time, as if to slowly ease you out of the artistic trance. The timber of his voice and his sudden presence led you to squeak in surprise, paintbrush dropping on the wooden streaked floor.

“It’s me, sunshine,” he raised his hands in front of him in surrender. “It’s me.”

Your nose scrunched up in question, a streak of blue dried paint on your cheek, adorable. How adorable you were in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you bent down to grab the brush before resuming your old position.

“It’s 7:50, love.”

You swiveled to face him, eyes wide in distress. Hands promptly reaching to turn over the faced down phone. “No, no—oh my god, I am so sorry!”

“It’s alright,” he tries to placate you but his words of comfort seem to fall on deaf ears. “Really, it’s alright. It happens to everyone.”

Tears were starting to build up in your eyes. Your hands were wrangling with the apron tied around your waist as you mutter a series of apologies again and again. “I’m sorry. So sorry—we can’t make it to our reservation now, can’t we? Spence, I’m so so sorry. I—I forgot,” a sob escaped from your throat. “I don’t know what to do.”

He puts down the flowers on the nearest available space, your stool, and steps into your space. Filling it with his perfume and warmth meant to comfort you. He could see how distressed you were—rocking on your heels, hands unable to stay put, and lower lip sandwiched in between your pearly teeth.

“Breathe. It’s completely fine, love. No harm done. Really, it’s alright.”

The tears come rushing down, staining your flushed cheeks with its tracks. “It’s not—how could I forget?”

“Sunshine, it’s okay. It happens to all of us and I know you’re quite busy, it’s understandable.”

You burrow into his chest some more, afraid of separating from him and the haven he brings.

He continued on. “I also know you’re overwhelmed, the exhibit is just around the corner and I know how important it is to you, I understand.”

Laying your cheek near his beating heart, you mutter a reply. “It’s really not—I don’t want you to think you’re not important to me too.”

His hands cupped your face to stare into your saddened eyes. Spencer couldn’t see the warmth and brightness that was always present in his sunshine. There was a cloud of rain and doubt covering its’ greatness. He understood no one could always be happy all the time but it bothered him to see you breaking down from stress.

“Shouldn’t I be the one worried about that?” he lightly joked. “I’ve cancelled on dates so many times and did those ever make you feel less important to me?”

“No. Never,” you sniffled.

“Then what makes you say I’d think that, sunshine? I would never, I promise.”

The corners of your lips lifted up to a small smile. There it was, the rays of sun peeking behind the clouds, bringing warmth back to the dark crevices of his being.

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” your lower lip jutting out in a pout. The air of anxiety slowly dissipating around you.

Spencer laughed, noting the tear stained marks littered on his purple button down. “That’s alright. Why don’t we order from your favorite Indian place down the block? We can get your favorites and have our dinner date here instead?”

“You’d be okay with that?”

He leaned in to kiss your temples, taking in the twinkle back in your eyes framed by your wet long lashes and the flush on your cheeks from emotion—good and bad.

For Spencer, you had never looked more beautiful. The reason behind of your breakdown was raw, intimate, and it made him see you in a new light. Heat bloomed in his chest, like a series of red roses, filled with love for you.

“Anywhere with you is good for me, sunshine.”

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[downhillrepose]

an old love

overview : father charlie mayhew reunites with an old lover he was head over heels for before he began his journey into priesthood.

pairing : father charlie mayhew x fem!reader

word count : 1152 (and it’s still ASS)

a/n : this is my first fic so please excuse.. everything… while i try to figure it all out! xx

it was an early sunday evening when father mayhew was interrupted while planning his next sermon. the doors to the church pushed open, the loud hinges and heaviness of the door stirring him from his concentration.

father mayhew looked up from his altar to the entrance of the church, not necessarily surprised to have someone else join him in the holy place, but startled nonetheless by the sudden intrusion.

a frazzled young woman stumbled in, her wide eyes looking around to the tall pristine ceilings and stained glass windows before settling on father mayhew’s tall figure on the stage.

though a sin, father charlie swore his heart stopped beating when his eyes finally settled on the woman in his church. could it really be? no… no, it’s not possible.

“charlie?”

charlie’s eyes widened beyond belief, definitely sure this time that his heart stopped beating. “Y/N..? is that.. you?” his voice was breathless, rough with disbelief.

“oh, charlie,” you beamed, quick steps scurrying over to the altar, stopping short before the steps. “i’m so glad to see you..” your eyes raked over his attire, “oh! i’m sorry, father charlie.”

frozen, charlie just stared at you before he somehow got the courage to say something. “Y/N.. what are you doing here? it’s been..” he trailed off, not wanting to say how long it had been since he’d seen the woman he fell in love with.

“forever?” you finished for him,

“yea, forever,” he gulped, slowly moving from behind the altar to descend the steps. his eyes never left your frame.

your gaze followed him as he made his way toward you. the closer he got, the faster his heart beat. is it about to come up his throat?

“i’m sorry to barge in on you like this it’s just that i got word that you were here and had to see for myself,” you softly smiled. how are you smiling right now? how are you not in complete and utter pain like he is?

charlie just blinked, finally in front of you now.

“right, i have to explain myself, god, oh! GOSH,” you corrected yourself, hand over your mouth. “i’m so sorry, i’m an idiot.”

this finally made charlie’s face lighten up, you hadn’t changed at all. “it’s okay, Y/N, really,” he felt his lips tug upward. you were still the cutest thing in the entire world.

you just blushed, embarrassed. “i.. i just finished my degree abroad, you know...? anyway, when i got back home my dad said that you were a priest now and i… well, i had to see you. couldn’t believe it.”

charlie raised a brow, “how come?”

you clasped your hands in front of you, “nothing, really, i just always envisioned you to be out of this old little town.. traveling.. doing whatever your heart desired. like you said you would…” your gaze flicked to the floor, your shoes suddenly very interesting.

charlie hummed, “no, i couldn’t leave this place.. trust me, i tried.” charlie’s gaze suddenly turned to a dim one. a dark, glum cloud seemed to hover over his head.

you raised your head at that, eyes locking with charlie’s once more. you opened your mouth for a moment before abruptly closing it. you contemplated for a moment before forcing a smile on your face.

“well i’m just happy to see you, charlie” your eyes flickered over his face, almost as if you were trying to imprint the image of him in your mind so you would always have it.

charlie didn’t say anything at that. he opened his mouth just to close it, too. he shook his head slightly, hand coming to comb through his hair.

“are you sure?” he clenched his jaw.

your eyes widened at that, flinching at his brazenness. “of course i am, charlie..” your hand moved to his arm before hesitating, tucking your hands behind your back in tight fists.

charlie saw this, his jaw clenching even tighter, he was sure his teeth would fall out. “i’m sorry it’s just hard to believe when i’ve been here the whole time.”

“charlie..”

“no, Y/N, what are you doing here? really?” his tone became defensive, building a wall around his heart right in front of the woman who helped him tear it down all those years ago.

you didn’t say anything, eyes wide looking up at him.

“i never left, Y/N.. i never left…” his voice was barely above a whisper, eyes hardened in faux credence.

your lower lip quivered, looking away.

“i’m sorry.”

“for what? for abandoning us? or for never coming back?” charlie bit out. according to his beliefs, charlie should forgive, but something inside him still ached from when you left, it wasn’t that easy.

“everything, charlie.. everything.” your eyes were glistening with tears when you looked back into his. charlie’s heart sped up at the sight, hand itching to take your face in his palms.

as the first sob of yours was let out, charlie couldn’t stop himself, pulling you into his arms and into his warm chest.

“shh, shh, baby.. don’t cry.” his hand caressed the back of your head and neck, head coming to rest atop of yours.

your heart clenched in your chest. “i’m so sorry, charlie.” the words were slightly muffled against his chest, but he knew what you said.

palms coming to cup your cheeks, he wiped your tears with his thumbs, eyes locked on your red and watery ones. “shh, it’s okay..”

you shook your head, “no, it’s not.”

charlie’s eyes softened even more, if that was possible, “sweetheart… come here.” he brought you back into his arms for another embrace.

“missed you so much, charlie, i just.. i couldn’t face you after what happened. please. you knew i missed you, didn’t you?” you raised your face from his chest, neck craning up to look into his eyes.

“well, i do now…” his ring covered hand came to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “just wish you came back sooner.”

your eyebrows crinkled up again, “i know, i’m sorry i just thought you hated me and i couldn’t bring myself to face you.”

charlie brought his forehead to yours, “oh, sweetheart, i could never hate you..” his palm caressed your cheek. you leaned into his touch, releasing a heavy breath.

the two of you stayed like that for a while, the silence of the church engulfing you, making it seem as though you were the only people in the world.

charlie broke the silence first, eyes soft looking down at you, “what do you say we get something to eat? that diner is still open, and you can tell me everything..”

you softly smiled, sniffling, “i’d like that a lot.”

with your arm locked in charlie’s as he led you out the church doors, he realized something:

a million years could go by without seeing or hearing from you, but his connection and devotion to you will never falter. ever.

so… that’s it! im so sorry the ending is so rushed and just. bad? im sure grammar and the present and past tense verbiage was annoying asf pls forgive me :,,) im new to writing (writing my own stories i mean) and am open to criticism! constructive pls..